Maybe i should write menus

The Mister and i were driving around together earlier today and we passed by (as in didn't even consider stopping) one of the ubiquitous McD*nald's that litter this area. The sign board read:

MCRIB IS BACK!!

The Mister was annoyed by the grammar. "Shouldn't it say 'McRibs ARE back?'"

"I don't know," i replied, "Maybe it's like their hash browns where you order A hash brown instead of SOME hash browns. Maybe it's a single lump of some vaguely pork-like meat reformed into a rib shape and then drowned in a sweet red sauce."

"You make it sound so tasty!"


I for one vow to eat TWICE as many as i ate last time they were available.

The dangers of snap judgments

Sometimes when i spot a person casually in passing, my mind invents a back story to explain what they are doing.

I was striding through the aisles of the drug store last week when i passed by a slightly rounded Indian man who had a tuft of hair coming out one ear, and one of those brain slugs*, (also know as a Bluetooth,) coming out the other. He was standing in the cosmetics aisle as i brushed past him.

Without me really being aware of it, my mind decided that he was too lost in his brain slug conversation to notice that he was, in fact, in the girly section of the store.

A few minutes later, having completed whatever errand had brought me to the store, i passed by him again. This time he was crouched down in front of the lipstick display, still talking into his brain slug.

"Midnight Frost or Pale Shimmering Frost?" i heard him say in that lovely Indian singsong accent.

Awwww, he's picking up some lipstick for his wife. How cute! And he's not afraid to stand in the cosmetics aisle and utter words like 'Pale Shimmering Frost' for all the world to hear.

This time i smiled at him.

*Futurama reference to an alien life form that attaches itself to your head and takes over your mind.

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If you are not offended by the obscenity, this will crack you right up. If you are offended, skip it.

Now it can be told

I killed one of Em's mice. One of Those Damn Mice. I feel so guilty.

I was not the actual instrument of death, but a moment's inattention allowed Grey Cat to sneak in and cause grievous bodily harm.

I remember reading the torture scenes (i can't remember if it was in Fahrenheit 451 or Animal Farm, or maybe some other book entirely) where the man kept getting killed and revived and then killed again, in a new and horrible way.

Somewhere in my heart i believe that all life has the same value. I'm not saying that all life has the same complexity, but i don't believe in killing just for the sake of it. (Yes, i eat meat. But being eaten as meat has purpose and meaning.)

I keep thinking that someday, when i die, i will be killed in all the ways that i have wantonly killed. I'll be squished with a rolled up newspaper, stepped on by a giant shoe, flushed down a toilet, ground up in a garbage disposal, sucked up into a vacuum cleaner and lastly, i will have my spine snapped by a giant feline, be stuffed into a plastic bag to suffocate, and placed in a freezer.

Later, after i am a frozen corpse, my body will be placed in the trash.



I had to wait until today to tell Em, as yesterday was her birthday. Happy Birthday sweetie, i love you, and i am SO sorry about Elizabeth. But no, we are not getting another one to keep Rain company.

I am not the center of the universe

My mother, upon learning that The Mister has been out of town for the past two weeks (he's home as of this morning, jet-lagged all to hell, slept all day, still snoring gently beside me at 9pm) decided that i needed to be amused. So she offered to take me out to dinner last night.

Now i am a restaurant whore, so there isn't much i won't do for a free meal, including sit at a table with my parents.

My mother also invited my brother (a tidbit of information that will become relevant in a bit,) as he was also sans spouse.

We met at a nice restaurant, one with real tablecloths and candles. Things were looking good!

My dad immediately excused himself for the men's room, where he spent at least ten minutes before returning to the table.

This repeated all evening. Of the two hours we were at the restaurant, he spent at least 45 minutes in the can. At one point, he returned to the table and before he sat back down, turned around and left again. So clearly, something was wrong.

My dad has had prostate cancer and numerous other urethral/penile problems. I am blissfully unaware of the exact grim details, but i know he has had his exit path re-routed, as he could no longer pee or be catheterized due to scar tissue.

My brother carried on as if nothing odd was going on. He remained calm and friendly, while my mother was freaking out, and i was getting more and more tense in response to her angst.

The evening eventually ended, with no one really saying anything about my poor dad's "problem." (Denial. I challenge any family to outdo us in this regard.)

I came home feeling really sad. "Ooooh," i whined to The Mister on the phone from China, "it was awful."

But, after thinking it over, and taking a cue from my brother, i am being a complete ass.

What do i want the man to do? Stay home and limit his activities because it makes me soooo sad to see him struggle? Oh poor me.

How unutterably selfish of me.

He's out and about, coping the best he can with what must be embarrassing and uncomfortable aging issues. And just because i don't like it, doesn't mean that the end result of living isn't dying. My dad's body is giving out on him, slowly. What i want to do is to celebrate the fact that he's eighty-fucking-two, and he's out at restaurants, playing tennis and traveling; not bemoaning the fact that bad shit is happening to his body.

Love accepts things, even the icky. If he can stand it, the least i can do is be there for him without letting my self-centered feeeeeeelings get in the way.

What got into her?

I was loitering at the bus stop the other day, looking for some action, when i noticed these little white tubes discarded on the ground.

"What the hell?"

Upon closer examination, they proved to be the containers in which one buys a single cigarette.

I know i am naive, but i hadn't realized that you could buy a single cigarette, all packaged in a plastic container. This is wrong on SO MANY levels, that i just keep thinking of more.

Packaging waste. This just takes it to a new level of awfulness.

Marketing to kids. If anyone believes that this is not a way to market cigarettes to kids, you are move naive and foolish than me.

Marketing to poor people. So you can't find the (what is it up to these days? $4? $5?) cash for a whole pack, no problem! For 50 cents, or whatever, you can still suck some nicotine into your lungs. That this works out to $10 per pack. Nice work tobacco industry.

Just because people will buy something, doesn't mean it's a good idea. Except that of course it's a good idea if you stand to make some money. Bastards!

This just makes me sick.

Too pathetic?

Okay, i was going to go for NaNoPoMo* but i've decided to become the anti-christ instead. Seems like it might be easier.

"The Holidays" are coming up. I shudder at the thought. I've been thinking about why that is.

You know how kids are silly and grandiose and say all kinds of things that are ridiculous? Some examples;

• I'm gonna be a lion tamer!
• I can really fly, wanna see?
• I'm going to marry DADDY when i grow up.
• Last night i saw a REAL fairy dancing in my room!
• This hole goes all the way to CHINA!

...and so on, you get the idea. Wonderful imaginative things that are the product of childish enthusiasm.

Family gatherings are an occasion to bring out these memories and ridicule the child that said them. This sport is accompanied by telling the adult that used to be the child that they are too sensitive and have no sense of humor.

That adult very well might have a sense of humor about this teasing, if it hadn't also been done back when the adult was a child and had no defenses.

I've never laid it out so clearly for myself before now. I think the correct tactic might be to say, "That child deserves to be defended, even though it's years later."


*National No Posting Month