Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Creepy vs. Stupid

So I've been sitting here trying to decide which world leader is the most creepy/stupid.

Shut up. It's what I do.

Anyway, it's down to Ahmadinejad of Iran, and Chavez of Venezuela.

I'll start with Ahmadinejad since I will never be able to spell his name correctly, at least not without cut and paste. I'll get him out of the way first.


1.) He doesn't think homosexuals exist in Iran. But he wants to find them so he can "study" them.

2.) (I realize it's been hammered to death, but) his continued desire to debate whether the Holocaust really happened is always good for tingle of incredulity.

3.) The fact that the former U.S. hostages, taken during the Carter administration swear that he was one of the kidnappers.

4.) He wants nukes. For energy.


1.) He thinks homosexuals don't exist in Iran.

2.) The beard

3.) The dinner jacket

4.) He wants an Iranian envoy to monitor U.S. elections in '08 so he can see for himself if we really want to vote for the Bush administration again.

I'm guessing he's a bit ignorant of the Great Satan's political structure. I don't know if it's possible for him to conceive that a President would peacefully and voluntarily step down after his Constitutionally mandated 8 year limit in the political grinder. But I suppose we should make exceptions for him since he comes from a land where they routinely assassinate political opponents, outspoken journalists, and rebellious teenage girls.

Now for Chavez.


1.) Wants to amend the Venezuelan Constitution so he can be "elected" indefinitely.

2.) Threatens to have the government take over the businesses whose leaders disagree with him.

3.) Wants to be just like the Socialist Paradise of Cuba (!?)

(Happy Contented Cubans on a Delightful Proletarian Cruise to America)


1.) His face

2.) His fat, fucking face.

3.) Insists CNN and GlobovisiĆ³n were sending subliminal messages to have him assassinated.

4.) He told a women's group that "they should drink coffee, eat chocolate and stay awake through Saturday night -- just like the nights when they gave birth -- to ensure they were up early and getting backers to the polls en masse."

I actually can't decide whether this last #4 is creepy or stupid.

I originally thought it was stupid, but the thought of Chavez imagining a horde of coffee-drinking, chocolate-eating, completely addlepated females giving anything resembling birth to his plans for a totalitarian dictatorship has a definite creep factor.

Decisions, decisions.

Tallying the numbers....6+6+14...carry the 1....-2.7314...............

Okay. It's close, but the Iranian midget is the creepiest and the Venezuelan Oompa Loompa is the stupidest.

There. Now I can sleep.

Although the homosexual thing will no doubt cause some second guessing.....

Tuesday, November 27, 2007


I'd never burn down my house with my grandma in it.

I've been wanting to write about my grandparents for some time now, but I've never been sure of what exactly to say.

All four of them are/were interesting people, and all have had a profound impact on my life.

I think I'm going to start with my grandmother who is currently renting my old house. I don't think I'd be doing a disservice to my other grandparents by stating that she has probably had the most impact on my life. This is due in no small part to the fact that she has been around through thick and thin, never allowing us to withdraw from the family no matter how much we craved solitude in times of crisis.

When I was 15, She lost her husband and two sons (my uncle, my grandfather, and my father in that order) within a 6 month time frame. As terrible as it was for me, I can't begin to imagine the cold brutality of her loss.

I won't say I gave anyone in my family an easy time of it back then. That included my grandmother. All of my sisters and I gave our mother and grandmother our fair share of grief. But she remains to this day, steadfast in her love for her family.

I don't want to give the impression that she is a tower of strength. She is fragile and rather delicate. But she has a her love for all of her children and grandchildren, and now great-grandchildren, that has never been shaken, no matter how hurt she has been.

I was looking through some of her old photos while I was supposed to be helping her move in. She was everything I am not. Gorgeous, glamorous, with an impeccable fashion sense, and home decorating/design skills that have yet to be matched as far as I'm concerned, she is everything a woman ought to be. Even at 79, she is elegant and sophisticated beyond compare. For example, she turned my dreadful old house into something wonderful. I hated that house. I couldn't imagine this woman, accustomed to such beautiful homes, living there and being happy. It has none of the charm of her other residences. Yet somehow, she has transformed it into an enchanting place, full of memories, treasures, and comfort. It's a rare gift. And so is she.

Monday, November 26, 2007

So in case anyone couldn't tell, the NaBloProMo thingy isn't going all that well. In fact, it isn't happening at all.

Tough titties, I suppose.

We had a long Thanksgiving week in Houston. Jethro went back for three days of last week to work at the clinic. I missed him.

I was very much looking forward to not going back to Houston for at least a month, but at the last minute, we realized we'd have to back next weekend because my grandmother, who is renting our old house, wants us to get rid of the paint cans in the garage which can only be done the first Saturday of every month. Why she cares, I have no idea. They're not bothering anyone, she's never going to use the shelves that they're on, and finding a place to take them has been a collossal pain in the ass.

And although making numerous 3+ hour trips for small, bullshit details is better than listening to her constant nagging, I don't think she's realized how close I've come to burning the whole house to the ground with her being in it of little to no concern.

I exaggerate, but still.

Anyway, perhaps the weekend after next...I'd like to get our Christmas tree at some point.

Oh, and I have decided against purchasing a Nintendo Wii for the kids. Firstly and most importantly, we can't afford it. Secondly, and rather less importantly, we've come into posession of an Xbox 360. Corin gave Jethro his (which he got from a friend who owed him money) to use while he's in Iraq.

We decided that we'll "give" it to the girls for Christmas and just get another one by the time Corin comes back. As long as the girls can play Dance Dance Revolution until they're as good as all the other little Asian geeks in the arcades, they'll be happy. That, and anything related to Pokemon. I think they could also use some warm pjs too.

In the spirit of NoBloPriMo, I will try to write more, but I'm releasing myself from the Treaty.

Friday, November 23, 2007

Spent a lovely day at the family homestead yesterday. We ate a lot, drank somewhat more, politely discussed both religion and politics (a feat made possible by the copious consumption of turkey and spirits), and had our step-brother take a picture of all the girls jumping on the trampoline in the back yard. My bosoms obscured my face. This was a good thing.

I always take on at least one impossible task during the Christmas season. Usually it's making one extra dish that leaves me stressed out, sweaty and pressed for time. This year it's going to be finding the Nintendo wii for the girls at a retail price. Actually, I'm hoping to score two so I can sell one on ebay for double the retail price. The mere thought is giving me irritable bowel syndrome, but I still plan on going through with it. Wish me luck. If I am successful this week, I will report my strategy.

I hope everyone had a happy Thanksgiving.

Monday, November 19, 2007

Corin's Night

I've been trying to post about Saturday night, but I haven't been able to start for some reason. Some very funny things happened and I want to do right by them, but I guess I'll have to settle for just getting them on the page. So excuse me a minute while I get a glass of water, grab me some Buc-cee's Beaver nuggets, touch myself in all the bad places (including the really REALLY bad place), and think very hard about me, Jethro and King Leonidas from 300 (they will never touch or see each other).

Okay. I'm back.

We were at our favorite tavern Saturday (and by favorite I mean the only one that would let us drink there when were in college before we were 21, so we feel a certain nostalgic loyalty) sending off our friend, Corin who leaves for Iraq on Tuesday.

As luck would have it, the Houston Rugby Team had it's Liquid Golf Tournament that day and decided to congregate at their favorite tavern (and by that I mean the only tavern who will allow them to continue drinking there after such an event).

Let's just say that if Griff's were a woman, she'd be a saggy bosomed gal in her late 50s, blue eye-shadow on her crows feet, pink lipstick on her teeth, with a skin-tight, leopard print camel-toe. Possibly dying of lung cancer.

So we were all sitting at a table minding our own business, listening to our friend and his friend tell a few marine jokes (they're Army), when a stocky woman in a golf hat adorned with an idiotic looking pom-pom, quite drunk, lurched up, demanded to know where our friends had served, and insisted that they cease and desist picking on marines (before they could respond) because she had fought in Desert Storm.

Have you ever found yourself in the middle of such a paradoxical situation? I was vacillating between avoiding her gaze like one does with the deranged homeless, standing up and punching her in the nose, and laughing my ass off because truly, can you imagine anything more comical?

Drunken Moron (for a moron she was) rounded on me for rolling my eyes and told me she had served so I could have the right to be a bitch.

I'm sure she was living out her fondest hippie-slaughtering fantasies, but reality was not quite the tableaux playing in her head.

I told her I appreciated that, and I respected her service, but our friends had both fought in Afghanistan and one was about to be sent to Iraq and I didn't appreciate her "dissing" them. Yes, I said "dissing" which upsets me greatly. Sometimes I revert to my '80s dork-self under pressure.

I was very concerned about getting hit in the face, but she ambled away after doing some more incoherent mumbling, and the evening progressed as smoothly as possible for having 100 drunken golfers in silly hats trying to get into each others' Bermuda shorts.

Later that evening, I was explaining what happened to one of my girlfriends while we were waiting in line for the restroom, when we were confronted again by Drunken Moron and her much larger, drunken sister who happened to be in the two stalls we were waiting to use (I'd have no luck but for bad). It actually ended quite simply with my friend timidly saying, "I'm a Republican" and watching the look of comprehension very slowly spread across Drunken Moron's Mongo-esque features.
I had some drinks, danced with a lesbian (who told me a great Halloween story about my sister which I will save for a later date), let Jethro videotape me and a few other girls dancing a little dirty with Corin, and talked to a great guy with an awesome tattoo.

So all in all, it was a fun night.

Keep Corin in your thoughts/prayers so we can do it all again when he returns in 15 months.

Friday, November 16, 2007

To My Husband On His Birthday


I just want to take this moment to tell you what twittering delight I get out of birthday boning. It doesn't matter whose birthday it is, and the fact that I like boning in general shouldn't weigh into it either.

Happy birthday, darling.


Funnily enough, I gave it up this morning before I remembered it was his birthday. I've never been good at remembering, but I am pretty good at giving it up.

Anyway, we're off to Houston again this weekend. Everyone have a good one.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Internet Derangement

I don't often read and far less often comment on the shitty things people do to each other on the internet, but in a story reminiscent of what the utterly deranged high school teacher, Eliot Stein did to columnist Cathy Seipp and her daughter as she was dying of lung cancer, this story was so horrible, I just can't let it pass.

What kind of shallow, lifeless, damaged creatures would pick on an overweight child suffering with depression for the idiotic purpose of discovering what this poor little girl might be saying about their daughter? What hideous disease in their hearts would cause them to do such a hateful, deranged thing?

I don't understand it. I simply don't understand it. I am utterly bewildered. The girls had once been friends. Megan's family had done favors for them. And then these grown adults go and emotionally abuse their poor little girl? I can't even begin to say how these people should be punished. It's obvious they will never comprehend the guilt they ought to feel. It almost sounds sociopathic.

People talk about making new laws, but what about the community having its say? Maybe a good old-fashioned tarring and feathering? Riding them out of town on a rail? Reminding them daily that the lies they told Megan about people not liking her are now actually and eternally true about them? Since they seem to be people who are unhealthily obsessed with what people are saying about them, I like the last one.

Monday, November 12, 2007

To All Our Vets: Thank You.

I wanted to post something yesterday, but I didn't have access to this picture which I wanted to use. It was taken by the Houston Chronicle at Charles' burial. I thought about him all yesterday especially because I flew back to New Town on Southwest Airlines where he used to work:

God speed, friend.

Friday, November 09, 2007

Lovely Random Bits

Oh so many things to blog about.

I'll start with my Lesbian Environmentalist sister who slept with a guy a few days ago. She emailed me and said it was awesome and that she was a bad Lesbo. I could have told her that, and in fact did tell her that quite frequently. I was also baffled as to how you could grow up in a house with all girls and still like them. I don't.

Next I'll move on to the best celebrity story ever - George Clooney and Fabio cat-fighting over who is the handsomest. Apparently Clooney thought some women were taking pictures of him when they were really taking pictures of Fabio. Clooney told them all to fuck off, and Fabio told him to fuck off, that they were taking his (Fabio's) picture, and to "stop being such a diva." I think then they puffed up a little and made some gang signs at each other but didn't actually engage in fisticuffs. I think faces in the celebrity world are like groins in the boxing world - off limits. But I can't believe it was Fabio who got the one-liner.

And then I read this story on the Italian police's discovery of the Mafia 10 Commandments upon the arrest of one Salvatore Lo Piccolo, mob boss extraordinaire. It reads like lines from a bad mobster movie, and isn't particularly interesting, but towards the end of the article, they started talking about the various bosses they've captured fairly recently. The last paragraph says,

"Investigators believe that the 65-year-old Lo Piccolo could have eventually emerged from a power struggle as the Mafia's new top boss following the capture of Bernardo Provenzano, the reputed No. 1 of the Cosa Nostra crime syndicate. Provenzano was arrested on a farm near Corleone, Sicily, in April 2006, after more than 40 years on the run."

Corleone, Sicily. Had he not seen The Godfather II? I would think that would be the last place a mob boss would go to hide. I mean Don Ciccio was eviscerated there, and that was just in a movie.

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

Here's some Nothing

Yes. I know I didn't post yesterday and today, and I was supposed to. But I didn't have anything to say, and as we all know, I provide only the most insightful and witty of blogging entertainment.

That being said, I still don't have much. So here's a picture of the clinic.

Cute, isn't it?
And Jethro has some pictures up from Halloween. You can see a boob.

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Did you ever wonder what a 300 lb, $2 whore from a country near the equator smells like the morning after a wildly profitable evening?

Me neither. But I think I know.

We spent all weekend painting/cleaning/fixing our old house in Houston. It was hot and dirty and not in a good way.

But most if it is completed aside from a little detail work. Now all I have to do is sell our crap in a massive garage sale. Our neighbors had one this past weekend and I bought a steel string guitar. Everyone has a steel string but me. My folks never bought me anything but nylon growing up. They wanted me to play hippie Christian music. But I wanted to rock and roll, man. And now I can at least try really hard. Deep down, however, I really am a hippie. And the stench this weekend would have proved it.

If you have an extra moment, go read how Trashman kicked someone's ass for money. It's cool.

Saturday, November 03, 2007

1 minute

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Thursday, November 01, 2007

Really, It Was A Lot Funnier Than It Sounds

Jethro and I were walking through the grocery store buying Halloween candy yesterday, when we happened upon an old lady hawking soup.

We obliged her by trying some and purchasing a can.

She asked Jethro if he "spoke another language."

He affirmed that he spoke Vietnamese.

She asked if we were married.

We said we were.

She asked if we had children.

We said we did.

She asked us if they looked like either of us or something altogether different.

Jethro pulled out a picture, so she wouldn't be imagining children with green skin.

She then said she was learning to speak Mandarin Chinese.

We politely raised our eyebrows and congratulated her.

Then she said she had always been raised to think that American culture was superior to other cultures, but...

I cut her off and said, "It is."

She looked confused for a moment and then said reproachingly that she had lived in Mexico City for awhile and that Mexicans were wonderful people.

I said, "They are," and refrained from adding, "But you don't have to live in Mexico to know that."

She said even though there is crushing poverty, it doesn't mean their culture is worse than ours.

I said, "Yeah, it kind of does."

Jethro mediated and said it only meant their government is worse than ours.

I refrained from asking what kind of culture would support a government who insisted on remaining corrupt amidst soul-crushing poverty...

She then said it was a good thing to learn about other cultures.

I said, "It is. That way you know for a fact that ours is the best."

Then I saw the look of hurt and confusion in her eyes, and pussied out and told her I was just teasing.

But really, she was barking up the wrong tree. I know she assumed that Jethro and I, as an interracial couple, would automatically be accepting of, and interested in other cultures. And that would be true if we weren't then required to turn on the culture of the country in which we live - which made and continues to make our life together possible.