You know you might be overwhelmed by the holiday when you are having relations with your husband and visions of sugar plums (and christmas wreaths and candy canes and wrapping paper) start dancing in your head......and they get you off.

Joys and things

Oh how my little blogs suffers. Boring life has taken over this rich, colorful tapestry of imagination and progress.

First off, my massage class of all women and one rotund, progressively slothful instructor is going only as well as can be expected. I stuck my neck out for one of my classmates whom I don't even like, but was being mercilessly picked on by the fat, annoying classmate who didn't like me. And now Fat Girl is gone, so it was much ado about nothing. How I managed to get involved is beyond me. I yearn for a simple life which includes no cunts, male or female, and yet I find myself surrounded. Did I tell you my non-sexy instructor told us all about how his testicles had not descended when he was born? It was all I could do not to sarcastically ask if everything was okay now. And he is shaving less and less. I think he is being overworked, but it could just be that he feels comfortable enough to not bother trying to impress us with minimal hygiene. And he's becoming increasingly inappropriate. My classmates can be pretty crude (there is something about putting your hands all over other people late at night that lends itself to the unseemly), and I admit that I indulge as well (although I try to be as clever with my vulgarity as possible), but I expect my instructors to have some control in this regard, or at least be wittier than the average slattern. But the non-sexy instructor, or the NSI for short, is somewhat slower with the banter. Yes, yes. I did know that head can be a double entendre. Perhaps it is hypocritical of me, but I feel an instructor should rise above, or sink so far below that he or she cannot be touched in any way. Which brings me to inappropriate touching. There is a girl in class who is pregnant. She's married and this is her second baby, but the NSI is always touching her stomach. I find this squirmingly uncomfortable to watch, mostly because he reminds me somewhat of Lenny from Of Mice and Men. Pregnant Girl is polite about it, but I have to look away so I don't vomit. I guess it's just weird because his stomach is bigger than hers which causes me to wonder why if a belly is so fascinating, he doesn't just touch his own. And then I remember that he does and I have to look at the pictures of the STDs so I don't think about it.

Other than that, it's going well.

I feel that I have a handle on the Christmas shopping, except for one present. We draw names in my family because no one can afford a present for everyone even if they're cheap, and I ended up with my sister's girlfriend. On one hand, this is impossible. But on the other hand, it's a challenge. And sometimes I enjoy a challenge. However, all I've got so far in the way of ideas is a customized t-shirt stating: "Carpet Ninja." But I think that might be in poor taste.

George Soros???

If the press is going to quote this man as if his unelected, unsolicited opinion means something, shouldn't they be revealing his ties to the Democrat party and his other organizations each and every time? Shouldn't they reveal his notoriety in wreaking havoc on financial systems the world over?

This man is corrupt to the core and we are now being given his point of view without any kind of counterweight.

Check out all the AP and other press articles quoting and aggrandizing him while barely touching his political affiliations.

George Soros Urges Use of IMF Gold-For-Green Loans

George Soros Warns Against Rebuilding Same Humpty Dumpty Financial System

With Big Money and Brash Ideas A Billionaire Redefines Charity

(check out the bizarre correction at the end. Since when is the Times that detail oriented, especially when the story wasn't initially wrong? It would appear someone's taking marching orders from the subject.)

Stimulus Thinking, and Nuance

This last one is mind-blowing. Check out the headline. Nuance. That holographic code word. The article actually defends fascism (think of it as a governmental system in terms of the economy, not concentration camps) as implemented by the NAZIS and quotes Soros in defense of it. Even if Germany never started its genocidal death camps, fascism is still a terrible form of government.

This is the one article I found that gives any real information on this man. In spite of the headline, it's actually quite balanced and informative. Of course it was published back in '98 when the press wasn't his bitch...

He's Seen The Enemy. It Looks Like Him.

These paragraphs cut right to the heart of the matter:

"Still, many observers wonder about Mr. Soros' straddling of so many fences in the worlds of finance, economics and politics.

''I think there's a built-in conflict between making money in public markets and improving the world,'' said James Grant, editor of a newsletter, Grant's Interest Rate Observer, and the author of several studies of financial markets. ''Soros is out there telling you what he's done, what he's going to do and how he'll save the world. I think there's a conflict because those goals seem at cross-purposes.''

''It raises questions about inside information when you're able to talk to central bankers and policy makers at the same time that you're involved in financial markets,'' Mr. Grant said.

For his part, Mr. Soros, dapper and attentive, defended his probity in a wide-ranging interview last week, saying he has always strived to keep separate his roles as a hard-nosed trader placing global bets and a financial guru able to rub elbows with the highest of the high and mighty. Though he had run-ins with American regulators in the 1970's and 80's, he has never been accused of insider trading or similar financial wrongdoing." [emphasis mine]

He's "tried" to separate his roles? Tried? Come on. If Martha Stewart went to jail, I'm guessing there's about a billion ways to send Soros there, not that I'd necessarily advocate that.

But how about letting in the sunshine? Let's pretend this is '98 and Soros hasn't bought off the press. Let's find out more about him and his intentions for our country. He has billions, his influence is everywhere, he sponsors the left-wing, free speech/information squelching orgainzation "Media Matters" as well as the highly partisan, left-wing MoveOn.org (among others), which the mainstream media quotes without fact-checking, he is being quoted willy-nilly in the press without question.....something is very wrong with this picture.

Zelda...

....briefly considered mixing the scotch in her mouth with soda directly from the bottle, but in gazing upon her husband's stern, somewhat nauseated visage, thought the better of it.

The Tale of Two Rabbits

Wow. It's been a long time since I posted. And I was just starting to get back into the swing of things too. All I can say is that I've been busy. I'm still working on the house, I'm still in my massage classes, and I'm trying to get ready for the holidays.

But I have loads of stories, and I did want to tell of the rabbits.

Our friends gave the girls one of their rabbits. His name is Phillix. He has brought much joy and cooperation in the mornings, as in the girls no longer meet their day with groggy thrashing at the unkind morning world and instead leap from their beds to care for their silent, cuddly friend.

The second rabbit is not so cuddly. And it belongs to me.

The august Trashman made contact to let me know he had a present for me. Jethro and I picked it up from his place of employ - a convenience store directly off the freeway. He was busy with a short line of customers when we walked in, and it gave me time to reflect on just where life's path had led me. If anyone were to have told me it would lead to a convenience store off 35 to pick up a bright orange sexual accoutrement, I would have.....well....probably believed them, but it doesn't change the delightful absurdity of the situation.

When he was through with the customers, we went to his car where he presented me with a multiply layered package. Had this been witnessed by law enforcement, I'm sure I would have had a far more exciting tale to tell.

Now I think I'm supposed to give a review. Trashman has heard of women leaving their husband's for this inanimate object. But I think I must disagree. Since it vibrates, I'd be hard-pressed to call it inanimate. I don't know how interesting the porny details are since we're just a married couple doing what married people do, so I'll give it my patented 9 word review. "It can go ahead and quit it's day job."

I really didn't like The Virgin Suicides. My parents were exponentially more strict.

Ft. Hood Shooter Paralyzed From Waist Down

Good. Now he'll die a contemptible virgin.

Happy Veterans Day...

...to all our vets. I'm alive and happy and free in a wonderful country because of you. Thank you.

12 13 Dead, But Let's Not Forget To Thank Fucking Ken.

He is such a douche. Reminds me of his idiotic comments after the Virginia Tech massacre.

Oh, and they were killed by a Muslim. The media is twating out, as expected, but someone has to say it. There's a rumor that Muslims don't like us much.

Oh So Many Things

I was going to post about a certain present gifted to me by the resplendent Trashman (who is posting again like crazy fun) but I have contracted some plague that rendered me a font of spewing magnificence within earshot of my entire massage class, so I will have to postpone.

I apologize for the delay.

How Does One's Garden Grow?

I can never decide whether it's more fun to be cheerful or more fun to complain. Since I can't decide, and the last post was a complaint of sorts, I guess I'll post a cheerful one.




This is the view from my deck.




Since it faces directly west, we get to watch the wild Texas sunsets, which pictures hardly do justice. But they're my favorite part of the house.

I know the backyard needs a lot of work, but considering it was not taken care of for over a year, and we are just coming out of an extraordinary, extreme, mega-unheard of drought, I think it's manageable. I'm mostly going to put in vegetables and zeroscaping anyway. I've never seen the point in not using native plants in one's landscaping. Trying to keep a lawn of unnatural grass in the climate we have just seems like an exercise in futility and time that could be better spent on growing something productive. I intend to chop down and de-stump every last cedar tree (we're all allergic), replacing them with peach and orange trees and maybe a lemon tree. I would like some berries too.

Now I just have to learn about growing things in Texas. Every bit of knowledge I've retained as far as plant growing, is from my childhood up north. And I can't explain just how, but things grow differently down here.

Clotus

My massage therapy classes are boring. I think I've mentioned that. The only redeeming factor was the fairly cute instructor who could at least provide some eye candy while I debated the merits of poking out said eyes. So of course they fired him. There wasn't any good reason I could see, but the ignoramuses were looking for an excuse for their constant failure, and he was the scapegoat. I wonder what the school will say when their grades don't actually improve.

So as luck would have it, his replacement is a portly gentleman of somewhat less than average looks who regaled us on his first day with an exhaustive description of the surgery he had to correct his deviated septum, leaving out nothing including the removal of his nose tampons in all the bloody, stringy, mucousy detail. I don't hate him or anything, but he's constantly saying disparaging things about the other instructor, and he's certainly no beauty.

And I got into a heated argument with him after a test. He marked an answer wrong on my test that was technically correct. It was a multiple choice question and the correct answer was misspelled which made it an entirely different word. One of the other answers was 'none of the above' which was the one I chose. I thought it was a trick question. Apparently he had warned everyone of this question at a moment I was either not in the room or absent. He wanted to mark the answer as incorrect because I wasn't there to glean the information, and I argued that I shouldn't be held responsible for a misspelled test question since I had studied and not only knew the answer, but also knew how the answer was spelled. On top of that, the answer I chose was actually correct. He disagreed with me, and I disagreed with him in a slightly louder tone. He disagreed again and said he wasn't responsible for the test because he wasn't the one who had written it. I said that I wasn't either and I should get credit because I knew the answer. He said it was my fault that I wasn't in class to hear him tell everyone what the answer was, and I said that would have been a valid point had there not been an answer on the test that was correct given the misspelling. If there hadn't been a valid answer, I would have deduced that it was a misspelling. I further added, that it was ridiculous that there were any misspellings on the tests at all, and that it was extremely unprofessional.

He ended up giving me the two points and then shook my hand as if I was a man that he wanted no more quarrel with. That was kind of cool.

Then came the next class on the reproductive system. Judging by the ever changing hues of purple his face kept turning, I don't think it's his area of expertise. We came upon the term 'sexual intercourse' and he asked everyone what another word for that was. We all looked at him as if he was out of his mind. One girl ventured, 'um...sex?' "Sex?" he said, mockingly. "Come on. Don't you know the biological term? I'll spell it. C-L-O-T-U-S."

I was completely befuddled. "Do you mean C-O-I-T-U-S?" I asked.

"No," he said. "Maybe it's C-L-O-I-T-U-S. Spelling isn't my strong point."

"I don't think there's an L in that word," I said.

"No, I'm pretty sure there is," said he.

"I've never heard of an L in that word. And I've seen that word many times," I insisted brazenly and pointlessly.

"Well, let's look it up," he said smugly.

We whipped out our i-Phones, he looking up his version and me looking up mine.

I was correct, naturally. I tried to soften the blow by telling him there wasn't anything I didn't know about coitus, which I think didn't make him feel better because it made it seem as if he knew nothing by comparison. It's probably true, though.

Jethro's Been Eating His Wheaties

Or rather these new manly vitamins that make him, for lack of a better word, EXTREMELY HORNY.

Now I'm as game as the next wife. I am. Maybe more. But these vitamins don't have a female equivalent and sometimes I need to sleep. The second I get into bed, it's hands, hands, hands. The other night, after futilely defending myself for about 10 minutes, I exasperatedly reverted to cliche.

"You're like a kid in a candy store," I said, to which he replied, "Or a grown man in a pussy store."

You can't block teleporting hands when you're laughing.

New Topic:

Jim Treacher, a lovely, clever boy, and one of my favorite political satirists and just generally funny people of all time ever, got his Top Ten Reasons To Accept That Job Offer From David Letterman read by Mark Levin and Dennis Miller.

He also does funny things with cartoon bubbles.

Really, he's a treasure, especially for the right side of the political spectrum who tend to miss mockable moments in their haste to express outrage.

But Is It Art?

Hey remember when Mel Gibson said mean things about Jews and called a female cop "sugar tits" and everyone said he was a giant fucking douchebag?

He was.

Roman Polanski drugged a 13 year old girl and stuck his dick in her ass.

Funny Video

Quite possibly, I've never laughed so hard at a youtube video in my life.

I know I have a post in me somewhere. It's not as if amusing things aren't happening. For instance, Jethro and I were attempting a quickie this morning and the alarm went off blaring something with a heavy club beat just as I got mine. So it turns out that I can never again say I don't get off on hip hop.

And massage classes are going as well as can be expected given the fact that they are as boring as dust on a windless day.

I have discovered, however, that girls don't like me. Or I don't like them in a group, or something like that. Basically, the women I'm taking the class with don't like me much. I'm very much excluded on break, and in other more subtle ways. I can't decide if my feelings are hurt. I guess I think they ought to be, but I don't feel awkward or uncomfortable about it, so they really aren't.

I think it's one gal in particular. She's my age, but she hasn't been to school since high school and she seems to be reverting to high-schoolish patterns of behavior. She's made another girl her minion and she includes people in their intrigues at her discretion, as if it's an honor of some kind. It's been interesting to watch how power is gained through this scenario. Or at least it's more interesting than the endocrine system.

But I'm not sure how excluding me serves her purpose unless she just really doesn't like me at all, which is probably the case. Sometimes I feel like a boy with ADD in that class, and she seems like the type to be irritated by that especially since I can cut up and joke with the instructor and still know almost every answer.

That's a problem too. I'm not sure what to do. The instructor does a review of the information for each test and we're supposed to call out answers to the questions. I can answer most of the questions before he even finishes them, but it takes everyone else a long time. So I'm not sure what to do. Usually I wait what I think is a decent interval and then answer the question. If someone gets it before, then great. But it's mostly me answering them. This is annoying both to me and to everyone else. There was a guy in the class who could have given me some competition and wasn't afraid to answer all of them, but he dropped out. So it's just me.

If none of this is interesting at all, welcome to my world.

I also switched Gwennie and Emma's school. Emma didn't want to switch, but Gwennie didn't like it, and what Gwennie wants, Gwennie gets. I transferred them to the school they are zoned to at the new house. They started yesterday, and Emma, lucky little dragon-baby, got into the same class as our next door neighbor who she's already made friends with.

Gwennie, on the other hand, has a teacher I already detest and I'm sure Gwennie will come to detest. She's a manic blonde, probably a former cheeleader, and was rude to Gwennie when she couldn't decide where to sit after stupidly being given a choice. I grudgingly forgave that one, but she was rude again when I picked the girls up from school. Gwennie's attention wanders easily, but I'm not really keen on anyone snapping her fingers in her face, especially in my presence. I felt my deadly silence come on and I just stared at her in disbelief. The woman yammered on about what Gwennie needed to catch up to the class, and I did not answer a word. One more incident and Wrath will be my deadly sin.

Update: Just picked Gwennie and Emma up from school. Bitch teacher let everyone chew gum except Gwennie because she didn't have my "permission." That was really fucking nice. I'm about to get pissed off. If I think she has it in for my kid based on one moment of indecision over a stupid fucking desk, I'm going to make her life miserable. Just for fun.

Little Bit of Politics

The IAEA says Iran can now make a nuclear bomb.

I guess we scrapped that missile shield just in time.

Today is September 11th

I had no intention of going to ground zero while I was in NY. I don't need to go. I know what happened. I remember those buildings and the thousands of people inside. My daughters aren't going to get much out of looking at an excavation site because they never knew the buildings that used to stand there.

But we took the West Side Highway back to Brooklyn from Manhattan and we went right past it. So I snapped a picture and felt nothing.

My friend died trying to give these backwards death-cultists a chance at a better life, and we've elected someone who apologizes for our country and wants to prosecute the people who kept us safe.

So here's the picture and I hope it means something more to someone else today.

Back to My Old Back Porch

I am sitting here without my pants and I have no idea how that happened. One second I was wearing pants (shorts) and now I am not. And I don't even see them anywhere nearby.

Anyway, we're back from NYC. It was a really great trip. I stayed with my friend of 20-something years at her condo in Brooklyn. She lives near Brighton Beach which is now all Russian. It's so Russian, the shop signs are in Russian. It really was cool. So many of the ethnic enclaves disappeared as the city became more gentrified. And while I'm never one to render judgment on natural progression, pockets of diversity is what the city is known for, and it's a little sad to see them vanish in favor of the generic eclecticism every city seems to be striving for.

Anyway, it was a great time. My cousin's wedding was so much fun. They had it at this very, very Hebrew restaurant called "Bubby's" in Brooklyn, situated just between the Manhattan and Brooklyn bridges. The food was fantastic. Salmon or fried chicken, with a side of baked macaroni and cheese, and green beans. You might think fried chicken is more of a southern dish, but you'd be wrong. It is that too, but the Jews make it as well and it's different. I can't quite put my finger on how, but it is. And it made it onto my list of all-time best wedding food at #2, #1 being my own wedding which was the best food ever.

And my kids got to see another cousin on the other side of the family who is just Gwennie's age and adores them. They all played in the Diana Ross playground in Central Park. We went to the Museum of Natural History which is always cool, we ate dumplings at the speed of light in Chinatown, drank all-you-can-drink wine at another Chinese restaurant by Central Park, toured the M&M factory (and bought fistfulls of M&Ms), rode the ferris wheel in Toys R Us in Times Square, took pictures of Radio City Music Hall (a special request of Gwennie and Emma), went to a Brazillian Festival, took the subways everywhere to the great delight of my daughters who shrieked with delight every time the train started and they got flung, which made even the jaded NYers smile, and even made it upstate for a day to visit my godmother on her little farm. I got to show my daughters the elementary/middle school and church I attended, the house I lived in, and the town I spent 6-9th grades in.

Our last night, we went out with my friend and her husband to a Russian restaurant. It was amazing. I don't even know how to describe it. It was a mix of Asian and Mediterranean and Scandinavian food. You eat, drink, dance, eat, drink, dance, on and on and on until you

And of course there were things I wanted to do that I didn't even get close to doing, like seeing Beth. I also wanted to visit a graphic design museum and The Met, but it was not to be. I did, however, buy a dress at Bloomingdale's for the wedding. I hadn't planned to, but my friend had to pick up a dress there for another wedding, and I thought I would look around and see if there was anything that had a chance of fitting me. There was, and I bought it. It's purple. I think I'll wear it for Christmas, New Year's, and any other occasion that might call for it. It was expensive. But gorgeous. I love it.

Now for a small pictoral:

The M&M factory (where else?)

Radio City Music Hall

Rockefeller Center

View from the subway station in Brighton Beach

Jethro, me, and my purple dress from Bloomies.

Jethro, the girls, two sisters, and I are in New York City until Tuesday. We had to move, start school, and leave for NY in four days. I love it and I'm dying to write about it but there is no time. Everything is great, though. See you on the other side.