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Princess Zurg: We need to have a party where we just listen to Nightwish.
Mister Bubby: Like for family home evening?
PZ: Yeah! For family home evening–no, wait, I have a better idea. We should do it on a Friday night so we can stay up really late.
MB: We can listen to Nightwish until 1 a.m.!
PZ: Yeah!
And here is where my husband wipes the tears from his eyes.
*sigh*
I’m having one of those days, when I feel like I really need to just be away from everyone I know for about a week. Yeah, a week should about do it. No offense to the loved ones, but right now I really just want to hide in a closet somewhere. I won’t even need food. Maybe a pillow. A pillow, a pen and a notebook, and I’ll be good to go. Does that sound unhealthy? Or does it just sound like November?
Sugar Daddy and his grandma on child TV stars
Grandma: You know who I always liked? The middle boy on Home Improvement. I didn’t care for the older one or the younger one, but that middle one–I can’t remember his name–
Sugar Daddy: Jonathan Taylor Thomas?
Grandma: Jonathan Taylor Thomas–he was just always so natural.
SD: Well, you know, that Brian Bonsall from Family Ties was just arrested for beating up his girlfriend.
Grandma: What do you want to bet she hit him first?
Madhousewife: I know I would.
All share a good-natured chuckle.
Wednesday Wonderings
* November is National Novel Writing Month. There are two days left in November. Do you think I can write a novel in two days?
* What’s the deal with individually wrapped sanitary napkins? As I recall, when sanitary napkin companies first started doing this, the packages used to tout the “discreet” wrappers–for those women on-the-rag-and-on-the-go, as it were. As though a plastic-wrapped sanitary napkin is going to provide any cover for why you keep visiting the ladies’ room and/or acting like such a b-word. I reckon the difference between an adhesive backing and a plastic wrapper doubling as an adhesive backing is negligible in terms of environmental impact, but for some reason, it still bothers me. Why should it bother me?
* Why can’t I bring myself to spend $8 on Scott Westerfield’s Pretties? If I wrote a book, I would certainly like people to pay $8 for it. Because that would be, like, what–0.008 cents for me? Why am I begrudging Scott Westerfield’s 0.008 cents? Is it because I only paid $1 for my copy of D.H. Lawrence’s Sons and Lovers and still haven’t read it yet? D.H. Lawrence is dead and doesn’t need the money. I spent $8 to see Hitch two years ago. Granted, that was largely due to peer pressure. (Chick Flick Night with the Ladies. Hey, it’s not like they asked me to smoke marijuana or something. Which I would have done, of course, had they asked me, but only because it might have improved the cinematic experience for me and not because I cave to peer pressure as a matter of course. I can stop any time I want.) But still, it’s troubling.
* Sometimes I don’t like to read novels because it reminds me that mine is not finished and in fact just barely begun. Or is it because I’m cheap and don’t want to spend the $8?
* Why is it that I can sing Barney songs and do Baby Bob impressions for my kids without sensing any loss of dignity, but whenever I sing the Wiggles’ “Monkey Dance” song, I feel like a Complete Idiot?
* I swear I could do a full load of laundry that was compromised of nothing but socks. I suppose there are twelve feet in this house, but still, that’s a lot of socks, is it not?
That’s all I got. But for the sake of my compulsion to write tri-fold blogs, here is a random Chuck Norris fact:
Crop circles are Chuck Norris’s way of telling the world that sometimes corn has to lay the **** down.
Most likely I shan’t post again in November. Good luck with those novels, kids. Adieu.
So last week I casually asked a question about requiring prospective voters to pass a test similar to the one prospective citizens take. Most people thought it was a dumb idea, which I can dig. I myself have no dog in this fight; it’s just always been curious to me, much the same way it is curious to others that you need a license to fish but not to have children. One of those funny things about life.
The primary objection people have to such a qualifying test is that it would seem designed to create a sort of voting aristocracy, assuming that only the elite would have a) the leisure time to take such a test and b) the knowledge to pass it. What would be the purpose of such a test, other than to keep the unwashed masses from voting? Personally, I fear the unwashed masses much less than the overeducated and overfed; therefore, I should be more opposed to this test than the next person, and yet I am strangely indifferent. In a world where Ted Kennedy can vote, why should not knowing the number of stripes on our flag disqualify you?
I’m sure you’re all breathing a sigh of relief, knowing that I am not set to lobby any legislative bodies to pass laws against the riff-raff voting. If people want to vote based on their horoscopes or just randomly punching chads here and there, it is really no skin off my nose–I mean, there’s a fifty-fifty chance that they could vote my way, right? And then what would I have to complain about?
Actually, now that I think on it, I might should start a movement for people voting their horoscopes. Hm. More on that idea as it develops.
In the meantime, I want your opinion(s) on this political ad:
Mike Huckabee: Chuck Norris-Approved
Honestly, first reaction: “That. Is freaking. Awesome.” There is a new number-one reason to vote for Mike Huckabee for President–not only does he have a nice name, but he is Chuck Norris-approved! Does it get any better, boys and girls? Answer: no. No, it does not.
But then I remembered that I’m a serious voter. I don’t make political decisions based on my horoscope, or by blindly following Chuck Norris, roundhouse kick notwithstanding. (My favorite Chuck Norris fact, incidentally: Chuck Norris doesn’t sleep. He waits.) And what does Governor Huckabee have to offer me besides Chuck Norris? Or is Chuck Norris enough? These are the questions that perplex.
More detritus from the political junk drawer:
Senator Obama and Senator Clinton are sparring!
Hillary: “There is one job we can’t afford on-the-job training for – our next President. That could be the costliest job training in history.”
Oh, now I see where President Clinton gets his reputation for fiscal responsibility. Those eight years were training two presidents for the price of one. Clever.
Barack: “My understanding is she wasn’t treasury secretary in the Clinton administration. I don’t know exactly what experience she’s claiming.”
Ooh, a little below the belt, dude. But right on target. Point to Senator Obama.
Round two!
Barack: ‘‘Probably the strongest experience I have in foreign relations is the fact I spent four years overseas when I was a child in Southeast Asia.’’
Way to sell it, Senator. Couldn’t have said it better myself.
Hillary: ‘‘Voters will have to judge if living in a foreign country at the age of 10 prepares one to face the big, complex international challenges the next president will face.’’
Body slam! You go, girl!
Barack: 1
Hillary: 2
Plus, according to Dick Morris, she has W on her side:
In an interview on Tuesday featuring the first couple and Charles Gibson, the president said of Mrs. Clinton “No question, there is no question that Sen. Clinton understands pressure better than any of the candidates, you know, in the race because she lived in the White House and sees it first — could see it first-hand.”
By saying that she “understands the klieg lights,” Bush lent credence to Hillary’s campaign assertion that she could “hit the ground running” if she were elected president.
Granted, the President is no Chuck Norris, but Dick Morris thinks he’s sabotaging the Republican campaign by repeatedly “rescuing” the Clintons.
After they left the White House, both the former president and the new senator had low ratings in the polls. Beset by scandal — the White House gifts, the pardons-for-sale, the payments to Hillary’s brothers for pardons, the Hasidic vote-for-pardon scandal, and Bill’s nolo contender plea to obstructing justice — Bill and Hillary were sucking wind.
But, Bush swept in for the rescue, picking the former president off the ash heap of history and elevating him to parity with his father in a two-former-president effort t o raise funds for the tsunami victims. By giving him a respected place alongside a former president of unquestioned integrity, Bush gave Clinton a tremendous way to climb out of disgrace and into the limelight.
As if that weren’t enough, W let his Justice department drop its investigations of the Clinton scandals and accept a plea deal with Sandy Berger (he of the smuggling-classified-documents-in-his-pants fame). Quoth Dick Morris (he of the toe-sucking-prostitute fame), “Without [Bush's] generosity to Bill and his refusal to prosecute matters that could embarrass the Clintons, he bears a great deal of responsibility already for Hillary’s rise to front runner status in the Democratic primary.”
O, bitter irony!
Do you think George W. Bush secretly wants Hillary to become President? You know, he hasn’t endorsed anyone else. I don’t know. The President is a sly one, I’ll grant him that. Crazy like a fox and all that jazz. He just might know what he’s doing. Or he might not. What difference does it make? Did I mention Mike Huckabee is Chuck Norris-approved?
“Chuck Norris doesn’t endorse. He tells America how it’s gonna be.”
Preach on, Brother Huckabee!
Happy birthday, Girlfriend!
A recent survey by NYU’s journalism school found that 66 percent of NYU students would trade their right to vote in the 2008 election for one year of free tuition. Twenty percent said they would trade their vote for an iPod. About half said they would give up voting forever for $1 million.
Considering the way some people vote, I’d call that last one a bargain.
But seriously, folks, Jonah Goldberg cites this survey in his latest NRO column, wherein he posits that perhaps young people are willing to sell their vote cheap because it is cheap. In his words, “A heartbeat and existence on this planet for 18 years are the only qualifications to vote for American citizens.” He then asks the following:
Would it be so awful if voters had to pass the same test of basic civic literacy that immigrants must pass to become citizens? What if we made the right to vote something to brag about? Something to aspire to? Is high turnout among people willing to hawk their vote for an iPod really that much better than high turnout among people who hold their franchise dear?
I have often wondered this same thing. If just living here makes you qualified to vote, why do immigrants have to know what year the Constitution was written and which rights are guaranteed by the First Amendment? I mean, they’re already swearing an oath that no natural-born citizen has to make. If it’s so important for Joe Foreignborn to know who our enemies were in World War II and how many stripes are on the flag, why is it totally unimportant for those of us who were merely born here and have done nothing to demonstrate our loyalty to the government of this land? (For a sample of the U.S. citizenship test, click here.) I would happily give my blessing to taxpayer-funded civic literacy courses for all. Maybe while we were at it, we could teach some people to read, too. Heck, throw in a lecture on how to use a condom, for all I care. What’s time to a hog? (No, I don’t know what that means. I just felt like saying it.)
Do you think requiring a basic civic literacy test before (initial) enfranchisement is unjust or unconstitutional? (Or is that un-Constitutional?) I won’t ask you whether you’d sell your vote, or how much you’d sell it for, because that’s just tacky. I will give you some friendly advice, though, if you decide your vote is for sale. You have to have a lot more than $1 million in the bank before it stops mattering who makes the laws. That’s all I got for you.
Do you know anybody who knows way too much about every subject that could possibly arise in any conversation? No matter what you have to say, this person has information wherewith to enlighten you. Even if you’re just making idle chatter or a joke, or whatever, this person has to respond with a sentence that starts with “Actually…” and ends with some factoid or theory that may or may not be correct, no, what’s important is that it contradicts whatever it is you just said, and all you can do is say, “Huh, I had no idea,” because if you say anything else, they’ll just start spewing knowledge at you again.
Do you have an evil part of you that dances for joy when such a person tries to tell someone else everything they know and the other person responds with the equivalent of “You have no idea what you’re talking about”? I felt the evil dance inside me today. I won’t say that I’m proud, but there it is.
Around this new neighborhood I have seen several baby swings hanging from people’s roofs. That is, the baby swing is mounted on a beam hanging over the front porch, so that it swings about five feet above the ground, which in this case is concrete. This seemeth to me an odd choice for a baby swing locale. What is oddest is not that one person would choose it, but that multiple people would choose it. Granted, the homes in this development lack space in the back yards for actual swingsets, so where else are they going to put the baby swing? And technically, if you follow manufacturer’s instructions and never leave the child unattended, risk of fall and subsequent injury is minimal. But still. It’s weird, isn’t it?
Of course, I’ve never seen a baby in any of these baby swings. Perhaps the neighbors are using them for planters. The swings, I mean. I don’t see any plants in the swings, either, but I’m just trying to come up with rational explanations for why people are hanging baby swings above their concrete porches. Also, I am noting that I never see the babies these swings may or may not have been intended for. I know that many children live on this street. I see them gather at the bus stop every morning. I see them get off the bus in the afternoons. I just don’t see them at any other time. It’s a very quiet neighborhood.
In fact, I’m fairly certain that the noise level in this neighborhood has increased ten-fold since we moved in. Probably the most decibel-intense situation it ever experienced prior to our arrival was when one of the gardeners would run a leaf blower. I don’t know the technical term for this type of housing development. I think of it as a franchise neighborhood, though the houses aren’t McMansions. They are more like luxury McStarterHomes. Not the stuff on the value menu, yet still affordable. Every city in America has several neighborhood exactly like this one. It is the wave of the housing future. Cheap materials + Maximum Density = One Billion Served.
I’m not philosophically opposed to this type of development. I’m not even aesthetically opposed to it. When I see row upon row of these cookie-cutter houses with their matching picket fences and vinyl siding in every approved shade from white to ecru, it strikes me as quaint and rather charming. Others, I know, find it all vaguely sinister; at best the overall effect is claustrophobic. My husband falls into that category. To me the congestion and uniformity together create a fairly compelling facade of community.
Such is the forced intimacy of modern housing. Our homes are packed together so tightly that we can reach out our windows and shake each other’s hands, but it doesn’t matter because no one would ever do that anyway. We are just a lot of strangers who live together while pretending not to live together. No one is unfriendly. We just mind our own business. There is the awkwardness of proximity but none of the comforts. The neighborhood is too young, and no one moves in to stay, including us.
I know that I’m depressed. At this stage of life, for me to notice that I’m depressed is akin to noticing that my hair is turning gray or that I am gaining weight. There is no cry for help, merely an acknowledgment. Oh, this again. Well. I suppose I should do something about it. I just can’t decide what.
For those of you who still doubt that Halloween warps our children:
If I really wanted to scare you, I’d post pictures of me wearing black lipstick and wielding the corna \m/ \m/ at the Nightwish concert, but a) I’m a spoilsport, and b) like the first picture I ever post of myself is going to be something that unflattering? (Beauty tip: pale women with crow’s feet shouldn’t wear black makeup.) As long as we’re on the subject of stuff that’ll never happen…
Like I was actually going to wear a fishnet shirt??? Come on, people!
I did, however, wear the gun necklace:
And the fishnet gloves:
And I don’t have any nail polish remover at this house, so I got to wear the black nail polish to church. I looked pretty slick.
My two younger children escaped the house shortly after lunch. When I went out to look for them, I found them on the street in front of our house. (Hey, a timely search–no kids of mine at the assisted living center three blocks down today.) The baby was wearing Elvis’s Buzz Lightyear costume (about three sizes too big for her) and a snotty nose running to infinity and beyond. Elvis didn’t mind his sister stealing his costume because he was perfectly happy riding his little push trike–the one with no handlebars–around the neighborhood in his bare feet and his father’s Slipknot mask.
Oh, I got pictures. Never you fear.
Speaking of pictures…Princess Zurg: Hey, Mom. Guess who’s on this trick-or-treat bag?
Giraffemom: Who?
PZ: McGruff the crime dog!
Giraffemom: Cool.
PZ: What’s he doing there?
[Here you should understand that our kids have only recently met McGruff the Crime Dog this summer, when their father showed them the YouTube video of him singing "Chocolate Rain." They're largely ignorant of the balance of his career.]
GM: He’s there to remind you to be safe. He wants you to take a bite out of crime.
PZ: What do you mean, a bite out of crime?
GM: He wants to stop criminals.
Mister Bubby: Is he real?
GM: McGruff the Crime Dog? What do you mean, is he real?
MB: Isn’t he just a person dressed up like a dog?
GM: Actually, he’s a puppet. Like Kermit the Frog.
MB: Does he really go out and fight crime?
GM: Do you really think when the police go out to catch criminals, they take a dog puppet with them?
MB: Yeah. Police always do that.
Nightwish concert: T-minus thirteen hoursSugar Daddy: So just so we’re clear–it’s yes on the gun necklace, no on the fishnet shirt?
Mad: You don’t need to buy me a gun necklace or a fishnet shirt.
SD: But if I bought you a gun necklace, you’d wear it.
Mad: Yeah, I’d wear it. I’ll wear it to church.
SD: You have to admit it would look awesome.
Mad: Yeah.
(And if y’all want pictures, it’s gonna cost you.)
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