fuck infertility stupid mother n law
And the best thing about it is that Tertia, Grrl, and Julie all came up on the same search--it's nice to know we all have so much in common.
January 30, 2005
What I Want to Want
The lovely Cecily directed me to these interesting quizzes at beliefnet.com. I was raised a devout Roman Catholic, and for a long time, I really believed. I worked in a convent for several years and as a teenager, I seriously considered becoming a nun for quite a while. During that time, I felt like I had a deep, personal relationship with God and felt a sort of warm, enfolding response when I prayed. It was a wonderful feeling. I left the Church when a nun broke a promise to me and told my mother I had lost my virginity and we didn’t speak for a year. I try not to blame the Church for one woman’s poor judgment, although it’s hard. I also lost that warm feeling, and I’ve been wanting to get it back ever since.
After that, I spent some years not really thinking about faith or believing in God. This last year, however, I’ve been experimenting with Wiccanism. I love the idea of communing with nature as a way of worship. I love the tactility of candles and incense and water and wine, and kneeling in the dark while someone mutters an incantation. Ironically, all of these are important both in Wiccan rituals and Catholic ones.
My quiz results showed me to be 100% liberal Protestant—I guess I haven’t gotten as far away from the beliefs I was raised on as I thought. I’m also 98% Unitarian Universalist—I’ve always been drawn to UU, but there’s never been a church in my town. I’m only 17% Roman Catholic, which surprised me; I figured that would still rank pretty high on my list. I was a little disappointed to only be 73% Neo-Pagan. I guess that’s because all the non-nature stuff lots of Wiccans use, like crystals and Tarot cards, just make me want to laugh. I admit, I’m not a very good Wiccan. Much as I want to worship nature, I’m actually not a very nature-y person. I hate camping. I’m not fond of bugs or dirt, and I love room service.
I turned out 34% Jainist, whatever that is. Apparently Jainists believe that after you reach enlightenment, you become a god. Cool.
You would think that my mother’s Alzheimer’s would have pushed me back toward some kind of religion, so that I could believe in some afterlife where we will get to be together again someday, but it hasn’t. I wonder about that sometimes—maybe it means I really am an atheist, although I hope not. I want to believe in God, I just can’t seem to. And the rules of every religion I’ve tried just make me laugh—I always want to ask, “Do you really think God’s that petty?” I want to want to be a part of a nice, cozy congregation, but I just can’t. I guess I’ll go light a candle and try to meditate on the snow.
After that, I spent some years not really thinking about faith or believing in God. This last year, however, I’ve been experimenting with Wiccanism. I love the idea of communing with nature as a way of worship. I love the tactility of candles and incense and water and wine, and kneeling in the dark while someone mutters an incantation. Ironically, all of these are important both in Wiccan rituals and Catholic ones.
My quiz results showed me to be 100% liberal Protestant—I guess I haven’t gotten as far away from the beliefs I was raised on as I thought. I’m also 98% Unitarian Universalist—I’ve always been drawn to UU, but there’s never been a church in my town. I’m only 17% Roman Catholic, which surprised me; I figured that would still rank pretty high on my list. I was a little disappointed to only be 73% Neo-Pagan. I guess that’s because all the non-nature stuff lots of Wiccans use, like crystals and Tarot cards, just make me want to laugh. I admit, I’m not a very good Wiccan. Much as I want to worship nature, I’m actually not a very nature-y person. I hate camping. I’m not fond of bugs or dirt, and I love room service.
I turned out 34% Jainist, whatever that is. Apparently Jainists believe that after you reach enlightenment, you become a god. Cool.
You would think that my mother’s Alzheimer’s would have pushed me back toward some kind of religion, so that I could believe in some afterlife where we will get to be together again someday, but it hasn’t. I wonder about that sometimes—maybe it means I really am an atheist, although I hope not. I want to believe in God, I just can’t seem to. And the rules of every religion I’ve tried just make me laugh—I always want to ask, “Do you really think God’s that petty?” I want to want to be a part of a nice, cozy congregation, but I just can’t. I guess I’ll go light a candle and try to meditate on the snow.
January 29, 2005
Like Toothpaste and Orange Juice
Raspberry-flavored tonic water is very, very good.
Garlic-stuffed green olives are very, very good.
They are not, however, very good together.
Garlic-stuffed green olives are very, very good.
They are not, however, very good together.
January 27, 2005
Oh, the Irony
Thy guy who parked his car on some railroad tracks yesterday and caused a derailment that killed eleven people will probably be eligible for the death penalty, according to the news. Ironically, the reason he did it is he was TRYING TO KILL HIMSELF.
I'm not feeling particularly merciful today because my sister rode that very train for many years, and only stopped a few months ago when she changed jobs. She could easily have been killed. Perhaps instead of putting this guy out of his misery, we could keep him restrained so he can't hurt himself for the rest of his life, and let him live with untreated depression and whatever other psychoses he may have. I realize that in real life, that's more or less what will happen, given the slowness of the judicial system, but maybe a friendly judge could make it official at the trial.
I'm not feeling particularly merciful today because my sister rode that very train for many years, and only stopped a few months ago when she changed jobs. She could easily have been killed. Perhaps instead of putting this guy out of his misery, we could keep him restrained so he can't hurt himself for the rest of his life, and let him live with untreated depression and whatever other psychoses he may have. I realize that in real life, that's more or less what will happen, given the slowness of the judicial system, but maybe a friendly judge could make it official at the trial.
January 26, 2005
Why I've Been Gone for Two Days
Me: My cable Internet is extremely slow all of a sudden. Are you having a service interruption in my neighborhood?
Comcast representative: Hold on.
[Fifteen minutes pass]
Me: Um, are you still there?
Rep: Yeah. Hold on.
[Ten minutes pass]
Me: Hello? Anyone?
Rep: Yeah. Is your modem plugged in?
Me: Yes.
Rep [typing]: I'm running a scan of your system. Is the standby light blinking?
Me: There is no standby light.
Rep: Huh? What do you mean, no standby light?
Me: No. Standby. Light.
Rep: Um, well, push the button on the modem.
Me: The modem doesn't have any buttons.
Rep: No buttons? Um, hold on. [type type type] I'm showing that everything is fine with your system.
Me: Well, it was just running slow, but now I seem to have no Internet access whatsoever. Good job on that. [Bitter rage begins to swell within my heaving breast.]
Rep: Yeah, we'll have to send out a tech. I have an appointment available next Tuesday. But really, as far as I can tell, everything is fine.
[My shrieks of impotent rage fill the atmosphere.]
Me: Tuesday will be fine.
Comcast representative: Hold on.
[Fifteen minutes pass]
Me: Um, are you still there?
Rep: Yeah. Hold on.
[Ten minutes pass]
Me: Hello? Anyone?
Rep: Yeah. Is your modem plugged in?
Me: Yes.
Rep [typing]: I'm running a scan of your system. Is the standby light blinking?
Me: There is no standby light.
Rep: Huh? What do you mean, no standby light?
Me: No. Standby. Light.
Rep: Um, well, push the button on the modem.
Me: The modem doesn't have any buttons.
Rep: No buttons? Um, hold on. [type type type] I'm showing that everything is fine with your system.
Me: Well, it was just running slow, but now I seem to have no Internet access whatsoever. Good job on that. [Bitter rage begins to swell within my heaving breast.]
Rep: Yeah, we'll have to send out a tech. I have an appointment available next Tuesday. But really, as far as I can tell, everything is fine.
[My shrieks of impotent rage fill the atmosphere.]
Me: Tuesday will be fine.
January 22, 2005
You Feelin' Lucky, Punk?
Dude, you're funny.
And man, I hope you're a gynecologist looking for a new assistant.
And you? You need to get the fuck off my blog.
And man, I hope you're a gynecologist looking for a new assistant.
And you? You need to get the fuck off my blog.
The Media and Infertility
We all know that the media regularly addresses infertility in an unbiased, educated manner so that all of us can learn more about this epidemic, right?
All right, all right, stop laughing. Last night I had the news on while making dinner, and the announcement of a story about a new infertility treatment caught my ear, so I sat down to watch it. It was a report about a new drug, Leptin, which apparently helps start ovulation. Yay, right? Yay! Now, that really is a good thing, and I'm not knocking it by any means. However, the news story really irked me. The reporter had managed to find a woman to interview who needed Leptin--a model who was tall and gorgeous, and who didn't ovulate because she worked out constantly and was so skinny that she hadn't menstruated in fifteen years. Are you fucking kidding me? Now, I know there are high-metabolism folks out there who are naturally underweight, and I'm sure it's a serious problem, but couldn't they find an interview subject whose anovulation couldn't have been solved by simply EATING?? And maybe not spending six hours a day at the gym? How about someone who is at the correct weight and is perfectly healthy but didn't have a period for a year for no fucking reason whatsoever? How about her?
All right, all right, stop laughing. Last night I had the news on while making dinner, and the announcement of a story about a new infertility treatment caught my ear, so I sat down to watch it. It was a report about a new drug, Leptin, which apparently helps start ovulation. Yay, right? Yay! Now, that really is a good thing, and I'm not knocking it by any means. However, the news story really irked me. The reporter had managed to find a woman to interview who needed Leptin--a model who was tall and gorgeous, and who didn't ovulate because she worked out constantly and was so skinny that she hadn't menstruated in fifteen years. Are you fucking kidding me? Now, I know there are high-metabolism folks out there who are naturally underweight, and I'm sure it's a serious problem, but couldn't they find an interview subject whose anovulation couldn't have been solved by simply EATING?? And maybe not spending six hours a day at the gym? How about someone who is at the correct weight and is perfectly healthy but didn't have a period for a year for no fucking reason whatsoever? How about her?
January 20, 2005
On the Inauguration
So, it's official. Four more years. I have only one comment on the inauguration:
Dick Cheney's middle name is Bruce?!
Dick Cheney's middle name is Bruce?!
January 19, 2005
14--It's Less Than Two Hands and One Foot
Fourteen days! In fourteen days, my husband will be coming home. I cannot wait. I can't even think of anything funny or clever to say, especially because lovely Bugs beat me to the "Return of the King" comment. Let me just say that in fourteen days, I will be a happy, happy woman, and in fifteen days, I will get to have sex for the first time in over three months.
Why fifteen days, you ask? Well, let's just say that 10 hours sitting at a dusty airport in Afganistan, then 5 hours in a UN cargo plane, then another 14 hours in a regular plane, then some more hours in an airport somewhere in Europe, then 9 hours in a plane on the way to the U.S., then an hour waiting at Dulles for your bags, and finally a 45-minute taxi ride home does not a sexy husband make. It makes a smelly, bad-breathed, exhausted, but ever-so-lovely husband who needs a long shower and a good night's sleep before he's ready to do the deed. Trust me, it's not that he can't or that he's lacking anything in the virility department, it's just that, at that point, who would want to?
Why fifteen days, you ask? Well, let's just say that 10 hours sitting at a dusty airport in Afganistan, then 5 hours in a UN cargo plane, then another 14 hours in a regular plane, then some more hours in an airport somewhere in Europe, then 9 hours in a plane on the way to the U.S., then an hour waiting at Dulles for your bags, and finally a 45-minute taxi ride home does not a sexy husband make. It makes a smelly, bad-breathed, exhausted, but ever-so-lovely husband who needs a long shower and a good night's sleep before he's ready to do the deed. Trust me, it's not that he can't or that he's lacking anything in the virility department, it's just that, at that point, who would want to?
I Am Losing It
How many times a day is it normal to lose your pen? Seriously, how many? Is it normal to put your pen in the pen drawer, and then a minute later, go to pick it up, only to find it isn't there? And then you frantically begin searching your desk, looking under piles of papers that haven't moved in months, because your very favorite, best, bluest pen ever is MISSING? And then you happen to glance in the pen drawer again and there it is, RIGHT IN FRONT? I ask you, is that normal?
January 17, 2005
Just Breathe
A terrifying story has just broken in the New Yorker. According to Seymour Hersh, "the Administration has been carrying out secret reconnaissance missions to learn about nuclear, chemical, and missile sites in Iran in preparation for possible airstrikes there." In other words, Bush wants to start a new war.
The Administration hasn't denied Hersh's report, although they said it was full of inaccurate information. However, they do not say that the report itself is untrue. To paraphrase:
"Hersh said Bush, Cheney, and Rumsfeld view Bush's re-election as 'a mandate to continue the war on terrorism,' despite problems with the war in Iraq. 'The planning for Iran is going ahead even though Iraq is a mess.'"
I feel like I can't breathe. The King has been in the military for 16 years. He's currently on his third combat mission. We only have to get through a few more months here before we move to Pearl Harbor and start our real life together, the one where he gets to come home every night, and in four years, he'll be retiring from the military.
The past week or so, as his homecoming gets closer, I've finally begun to breathe easier. I've finally started to think, "Maybe we'll really get through this okay, and then we'll get to spend the rest of our lives together, and the King can become one of those veterans who spends his time talking about the good old days." He went to Afganistan twice, and there isn't time for him to go to Iraq before we move. I was really starting to think that maybe I'd be able to stop having nightmares about men in suits knocking on my door with telegrams.
But now the president thinks that he should get to start another war. Mr. President, will you please come to my house and breathe for me? Because I think I've forgotten how.
The Administration hasn't denied Hersh's report, although they said it was full of inaccurate information. However, they do not say that the report itself is untrue. To paraphrase:
"Hersh said Bush, Cheney, and Rumsfeld view Bush's re-election as 'a mandate to continue the war on terrorism,' despite problems with the war in Iraq. 'The planning for Iran is going ahead even though Iraq is a mess.'"
I feel like I can't breathe. The King has been in the military for 16 years. He's currently on his third combat mission. We only have to get through a few more months here before we move to Pearl Harbor and start our real life together, the one where he gets to come home every night, and in four years, he'll be retiring from the military.
The past week or so, as his homecoming gets closer, I've finally begun to breathe easier. I've finally started to think, "Maybe we'll really get through this okay, and then we'll get to spend the rest of our lives together, and the King can become one of those veterans who spends his time talking about the good old days." He went to Afganistan twice, and there isn't time for him to go to Iraq before we move. I was really starting to think that maybe I'd be able to stop having nightmares about men in suits knocking on my door with telegrams.
But now the president thinks that he should get to start another war. Mr. President, will you please come to my house and breathe for me? Because I think I've forgotten how.
January 15, 2005
Troy
For Troy, Brad Pitt was asked to play Achilles, the greatest warrior in history, a man whose feats of arms were so incredible that people said he must be a demi-god, half immortal, a man who could conquer any nation in the world with the strength of his sword.
Brad Pitt chose to costume himself for the role with a set of cheap blond highlights and a leather miniskirt, thus becoming the first man in dramatic history to play Achilles as a three-dollar whore. Good call, Brad.
Brad Pitt chose to costume himself for the role with a set of cheap blond highlights and a leather miniskirt, thus becoming the first man in dramatic history to play Achilles as a three-dollar whore. Good call, Brad.
January 14, 2005
I'm a Teenybopper Again
There are nineteen days left until my husband gets home! Nineteen! I want to jump up and down and shout, but it's really early in the morning and I haven't finished my coffee yet. We're in the teens! That's a big jump, psychologically, every time he goes away on a trip.
This is about the time that I really start getting ready for him to come home. Yesterday I soaked and scrubbed the range burner things. (What are those things? The silver bowls that electric range burners sit in? Anyone?) One of them is so incredibly blackened that I think it warrants just throwing away. Which means I get to go to the kitchen store at the mall, which means I get to buy fancy pasta sauce and some gadget that I absolutely must have which will then take up space on the counter for two years until I throw it away. I am a connoisseur of all things useless-kitchen-gadgety.
Today's cleaning project will probably be the refrigerator, because I really just can't bring myself to do the oven. It has a self-cleaning feature, which fills the entire house with the smell of charred flesh, I don't know why. And when I clean it myself, I am never convinced that I've gotten all the cleanser rinsed out, and I'm afraid that molecules from it are going to get in my food and kill someone. Seriously, I worry. And also, that black crap that collects in the bottom of the oven is pretty gross.
This is about the time that I really start getting ready for him to come home. Yesterday I soaked and scrubbed the range burner things. (What are those things? The silver bowls that electric range burners sit in? Anyone?) One of them is so incredibly blackened that I think it warrants just throwing away. Which means I get to go to the kitchen store at the mall, which means I get to buy fancy pasta sauce and some gadget that I absolutely must have which will then take up space on the counter for two years until I throw it away. I am a connoisseur of all things useless-kitchen-gadgety.
Today's cleaning project will probably be the refrigerator, because I really just can't bring myself to do the oven. It has a self-cleaning feature, which fills the entire house with the smell of charred flesh, I don't know why. And when I clean it myself, I am never convinced that I've gotten all the cleanser rinsed out, and I'm afraid that molecules from it are going to get in my food and kill someone. Seriously, I worry. And also, that black crap that collects in the bottom of the oven is pretty gross.
January 13, 2005
I Will Be Very Bored This Weekend
I've been trying all morning to think of something funny, or at least vaguely interesting to say, and so far, I've got nothing. It's been insanely busy at work, which is sapping my brain cells of any shred of creative power they might have. However, today is much better. Today, I'm working at home. And tomorrow too. And then it's the weekend, and then we get MLK Day off. All in all, I'm going to be at home for FIVE DAYS IN A ROW. What the hell am I going to do with myself?
To answer that question, I went to Blockbuster last night and took advantage of their new no-late-fees (sort of) plan and rented a slew of movies. Then, this morning, the King called:
"Well, why don't you clean the house? I know the refrigerator and oven need cleaning, because you always do that before I come home from a trip. And why don't you take the dog for a walk? And why don't you reattach the siding that blew off the house last month?"
Why do all his suggestions involve work? My plan was to lie on the couch for sixteen or seventeen hours, order a pizza, lie on the couch some more, and then go to bed. What's wrong with that?
It was really good to hear from him. He's doing well, and has been really busy getting ready to leave Afganistan and come home in three weeks. Next week he has to take this very important, very long test, because he's up for a promotion to Navy Chief this year. For you non-Navy types, that's a really, really big deal, and very few people make it that high. In fact, it has always been the pinnacle of his career goals. He was eligible last year but didn't make it, although he was close. The fact that he hasn't been to Iraq is a negative, but going to Afganistan twice may help make up for that this year. [fingers crossed] It'll be months and months before we find out if he made it, but this big test is the first step.
All right, I really am supposed to be working, even if I am in my pajamas. I think I'll go masturbate and then get back to it. (I take a great and perverse joy in looking at Internet porn when I'm supposed to be working.)
(God, I hope no one I work with reads this blog. There goes my good job reference.)
To answer that question, I went to Blockbuster last night and took advantage of their new no-late-fees (sort of) plan and rented a slew of movies. Then, this morning, the King called:
"Well, why don't you clean the house? I know the refrigerator and oven need cleaning, because you always do that before I come home from a trip. And why don't you take the dog for a walk? And why don't you reattach the siding that blew off the house last month?"
Why do all his suggestions involve work? My plan was to lie on the couch for sixteen or seventeen hours, order a pizza, lie on the couch some more, and then go to bed. What's wrong with that?
It was really good to hear from him. He's doing well, and has been really busy getting ready to leave Afganistan and come home in three weeks. Next week he has to take this very important, very long test, because he's up for a promotion to Navy Chief this year. For you non-Navy types, that's a really, really big deal, and very few people make it that high. In fact, it has always been the pinnacle of his career goals. He was eligible last year but didn't make it, although he was close. The fact that he hasn't been to Iraq is a negative, but going to Afganistan twice may help make up for that this year. [fingers crossed] It'll be months and months before we find out if he made it, but this big test is the first step.
All right, I really am supposed to be working, even if I am in my pajamas. I think I'll go masturbate and then get back to it. (I take a great and perverse joy in looking at Internet porn when I'm supposed to be working.)
(God, I hope no one I work with reads this blog. There goes my good job reference.)
January 11, 2005
It Ain't Over Yet
Congratulations to us! Del. Cosgrove, author of the infamous fetal death bill, has withdrawn it because of what we in blogworld did! I'm absolutely thrilled.
However, there's a new bill to worry about. (Were there always this many? Is it purely an outgrowth of Bush's reelection? How did I now know about Maura's blog before?) The new bill, HB 1807, makes it:
a Class 6 felony to provide a minor with a contraceptive if the person knows or has reason to believe that the minor is engaging in sexual relations with a person three or more years older than the minor.
When I was seventeen, I slept with a twenty-two-year-old man. In fact, that affair lasted six years and was one of the most important relationships of my life.
So, what Del. Marshall is saying is that anyone who I tried to buy condoms from during the first year of that relationship, such as say, the fourteen-year-old girl working the register at Safeway, should have tried to convince me to break up with my boyfriends, and if I wouldn't, to refuse to sell me the condoms. Does Del. Marshall like teen pregnancy? Does he think it's fun? You can reach him at Del_Marshall@house.state.va.us to ask him yourself. I definitely will.
Updated to include:
Amnesia--Hmm, I'm not sure why it didn't work. I e-mailed him at that address this morning and it didn't bounce back. Maybe we've actually managed to crash his account? I got the address by clicking on Maura's link to him at http://www.democracyforvirginia.com/. Sorry, other than that, I don't know.
However, there's a new bill to worry about. (Were there always this many? Is it purely an outgrowth of Bush's reelection? How did I now know about Maura's blog before?) The new bill, HB 1807, makes it:
a Class 6 felony to provide a minor with a contraceptive if the person knows or has reason to believe that the minor is engaging in sexual relations with a person three or more years older than the minor.
When I was seventeen, I slept with a twenty-two-year-old man. In fact, that affair lasted six years and was one of the most important relationships of my life.
So, what Del. Marshall is saying is that anyone who I tried to buy condoms from during the first year of that relationship, such as say, the fourteen-year-old girl working the register at Safeway, should have tried to convince me to break up with my boyfriends, and if I wouldn't, to refuse to sell me the condoms. Does Del. Marshall like teen pregnancy? Does he think it's fun? You can reach him at Del_Marshall@house.state.va.us to ask him yourself. I definitely will.
Updated to include:
Amnesia--Hmm, I'm not sure why it didn't work. I e-mailed him at that address this morning and it didn't bounce back. Maybe we've actually managed to crash his account? I got the address by clicking on Maura's link to him at http://www.democracyforvirginia.com/. Sorry, other than that, I don't know.
January 10, 2005
Good Even Though I've Already Got Boobs
Over the weekend I watched the movie Dancing at the Blue Iguana. It's about strippers. It was possibly the worst movie ever made. It had poor cinematography and no discernable plot. However, I drank four beers before I watched it and all I really remember are tons of naked women's breasts. Film doesn't get much better than that.
Also over the weekend, my dog ate a styrofoam cup. Does that seem odd to anyone else?
Updated because...
...I forgot Showgirls! Thanks for reminding me, Chris (and I love you too! Barefoot and rocks.). My personal favorite was also in that infamous pool, but the part where she tips what is presumably a several-hundred-dollar bottle of champagne up...and lets it pour over her into the pool. I always expect the guy's hardon to disappear and for him to shriek, "What the hell are you doing?! That cost me four hundred bucks, you crazy bitch!"
Also over the weekend, my dog ate a styrofoam cup. Does that seem odd to anyone else?
Updated because...
...I forgot Showgirls! Thanks for reminding me, Chris (and I love you too! Barefoot and rocks.). My personal favorite was also in that infamous pool, but the part where she tips what is presumably a several-hundred-dollar bottle of champagne up...and lets it pour over her into the pool. I always expect the guy's hardon to disappear and for him to shriek, "What the hell are you doing?! That cost me four hundred bucks, you crazy bitch!"
January 08, 2005
I'm In for It Now
The King and I are exchanging Christmas gifts when he gets home from Afganistan in a month (only a month left!). To that end, one of the gifts I ordered him just arrived in the mail, and boy, am I regretting buying it. You see, it's an electric guitar.
You read that right--I bought my husband an electric guitar for Christmas. That's what he wanted, and since he bought me a $13,000 engagement ring,* I feel obligated to get him pretty much whatever he wants. (Hence, our 57-inch, high-definition tv.) And what he wanted this year was an electric guitar.
You're probably thinking, hmm, isn't it usually thirteen-year-old boys who go crazy and decide they're going to be rock stars and that they would look super-hot for all the chicks if they had a guitar? Yes, it is. Usually. In my case, however, it's a thirty-six-year-old boy who seems to be going through some sort of delayed adolescence/early midlife crisis, and he has decided he wants to play guitar. I am trying to remind myself that he could have wanted a Porsche.
Does he know how to play guitar? No. Does he read music? No. Has he any musical experience whatsoever? Well, if you count AC/DC concerts, then yes.
Did I buy him a high-powered amp to go with his snazzy new guitar? Yes I did.
Am I now going to the music store to pick up the set of headphones I have just realized he will need if our marriage is to survive? Yes I am.
______
* Note: First, the ring only actually cost $5,000, because he bought it directly from the diamond mines in South Africa when he was there on business. Second, yes, I know they are blood diamonds dug with the hands of near-slaves who make less in a year than I make in a day. I would never have paid either $13,000 or $5,000 for an engagement ring--in fact, I had my grandmother's engagement ring which I would have loved to have worn and told the King that, but he wanted me to have a brand-new one. An expensive brand-new one. What can I say? He was drunk with love. And that's why I had to buy him an electric guitar for Christmas.
You read that right--I bought my husband an electric guitar for Christmas. That's what he wanted, and since he bought me a $13,000 engagement ring,* I feel obligated to get him pretty much whatever he wants. (Hence, our 57-inch, high-definition tv.) And what he wanted this year was an electric guitar.
You're probably thinking, hmm, isn't it usually thirteen-year-old boys who go crazy and decide they're going to be rock stars and that they would look super-hot for all the chicks if they had a guitar? Yes, it is. Usually. In my case, however, it's a thirty-six-year-old boy who seems to be going through some sort of delayed adolescence/early midlife crisis, and he has decided he wants to play guitar. I am trying to remind myself that he could have wanted a Porsche.
Does he know how to play guitar? No. Does he read music? No. Has he any musical experience whatsoever? Well, if you count AC/DC concerts, then yes.
Did I buy him a high-powered amp to go with his snazzy new guitar? Yes I did.
Am I now going to the music store to pick up the set of headphones I have just realized he will need if our marriage is to survive? Yes I am.
______
* Note: First, the ring only actually cost $5,000, because he bought it directly from the diamond mines in South Africa when he was there on business. Second, yes, I know they are blood diamonds dug with the hands of near-slaves who make less in a year than I make in a day. I would never have paid either $13,000 or $5,000 for an engagement ring--in fact, I had my grandmother's engagement ring which I would have loved to have worn and told the King that, but he wanted me to have a brand-new one. An expensive brand-new one. What can I say? He was drunk with love. And that's why I had to buy him an electric guitar for Christmas.
So There Really Is a Point to Blogging
If any of you haven't been obsessively checking Maura's blog, you should go and read her latest update here. I am actually crying because I am so happy that all of us on blogland were able to have a real influence over Delegate Cosgrove and force him to re-write his law. He wrote Maura and said:
"However, after discussing the bill again with our legislative services lawyers, I have decided to include language that will define the bill to apply only to those babies that are claimed to have been stillborn and that are abandoned."
The law may still not be perfect, as some of Maura' s commenters pointed out, but this is a huge improvement, and it is because of all of us. I thank Maura, who I had never heard of until yesterday, for bringing this to all of our attention. We really did make a difference
"However, after discussing the bill again with our legislative services lawyers, I have decided to include language that will define the bill to apply only to those babies that are claimed to have been stillborn and that are abandoned."
The law may still not be perfect, as some of Maura' s commenters pointed out, but this is a huge improvement, and it is because of all of us. I thank Maura, who I had never heard of until yesterday, for bringing this to all of our attention. We really did make a difference
January 07, 2005
Forget the Miscarriage Thing for a Few Hours; Let's Talk About the BABIES!
I've been so freaking pissed all day about the terrifying miscarriage law that Maura blogged about that I've been totally unable to give a huge CONGRATULATIONS!!! to Tertia! She had Adam and Kate this morning. Adam is on a ventilator as of now, but I have total confidence that very shortly both beautiful babies will be on their way home with Mommy and Daddy, and also that both of their first words will be "asshole."
Also, another huge CONGRATULATIONS!! to Julie and Paul, for finally, finally being able to take Charlie home. It's been a long, hard road for them--even the drive home was actually long and hard. I hope they have a wonderful, glorious first night at home with their son.
Also, another huge CONGRATULATIONS!! to Julie and Paul, for finally, finally being able to take Charlie home. It's been a long, hard road for them--even the drive home was actually long and hard. I hope they have a wonderful, glorious first night at home with their son.
HB1677: Urgent
Delegate Cosgrove of Virginia is attempting to get a truly horrific bill passed in the Virginia legislature. This bill would require a woman to notify the police within 12 hours of having a miscarriage. She would have to tell them the sex of the fetus and its weight. Is she supposed to miscarry onto a scale? Please go to this website, which is far more eloquent than I am, and read about this horrendous bill. It doesn't matter whether you think abortion should be legal or not--this is about being able to suffer one of the most horrible tragedies that can happen to parent in private. Miscarriage is not a crime. If you live in Virginia, write to Del. Cosgrove at Del_Cosgrove@house.state.va.us and tell him you oppose it. I sent him the following (I took much of the text from the link above); you are welcome to use any of it:
Dear Delegate Cosgrove,
I am writing to protest your introduction of HB1677, "Report of Fetal Death by Mother." This bill is a horrific intrusion into one of the most painful, private experiences a woman can have. I read your response to a commenter on DailyKos: "This bill...is an attempt to reduce the number of "trashcan" babies that are born and then abandoned." However, Virginia already has standard safe haven laws, and your bill refers to babies at any stage of development and even requires that the mother notify the police of the fetus's weight and sex. Is a man supposed to scoop the blood clots remaining from his 7-week-old fetus out of the toilet while his wife is struggling with her pain and put them on a kitchen scale so he can tell the police about them? Must the parents have DNA testing done on the clots to establish the sex of these "products of conception"? Baby abandonment is a terrible thing, and I understand your desire to prevent it from happening, but this bill is not the right way to go about it. Making nonreporting to police a Class 1 misdemeanor makes it equable with arson, making bomb threats, and stalking. Having a miscarriage is not a crime--it is an agonizing, terrible experience. Please allow parents to come to grips with their grief and loss in private. Thank you.
Dear Delegate Cosgrove,
I am writing to protest your introduction of HB1677, "Report of Fetal Death by Mother." This bill is a horrific intrusion into one of the most painful, private experiences a woman can have. I read your response to a commenter on DailyKos: "This bill...is an attempt to reduce the number of "trashcan" babies that are born and then abandoned." However, Virginia already has standard safe haven laws, and your bill refers to babies at any stage of development and even requires that the mother notify the police of the fetus's weight and sex. Is a man supposed to scoop the blood clots remaining from his 7-week-old fetus out of the toilet while his wife is struggling with her pain and put them on a kitchen scale so he can tell the police about them? Must the parents have DNA testing done on the clots to establish the sex of these "products of conception"? Baby abandonment is a terrible thing, and I understand your desire to prevent it from happening, but this bill is not the right way to go about it. Making nonreporting to police a Class 1 misdemeanor makes it equable with arson, making bomb threats, and stalking. Having a miscarriage is not a crime--it is an agonizing, terrible experience. Please allow parents to come to grips with their grief and loss in private. Thank you.
Now I'm Going to Be the Rat-Eating Girl
Austin Aitken is suing NBC for $2.5 million, contending that he threw up because of a "Fear Factor" episode in which contestants ate rats mixed in a blender.
I read this thinking Mr. Aitken was a participant on Fear Factor, and I thought, "Well, you went on the show, what the hell were you expecting?" But no, it's better than that. This dunce was watches the show regularly, but this time, he was so grossed out by it, he puked. And now he's suing.
What an ass. According to him, he had no problem with when the participants ate worms and insects, but eating rats went "too far." Um, right. So, the size of the thing and its biological complexity are the important thing? I get it, plants okay, insects okay, small mammals not. So I'm assuming eating chickens and cows causes him to have a fucking aneurysm.
January 06, 2005
Does Julia Roberts Have Sexier Armpits Than Me?
julia roberts hairy armpit picture: Seriously, the armpit folks are really loving my blog. Because, I mean, all the other links on that search look like fairly awesome porn, and instead they clicked on me. I feel all warm and fuzzy.
So, I know I haven't written a real post in a couple of days. I've been distracted. I work at home on Fridays because my commute is 90 minutes each way. Two days ago, my boss told me a division of our company that works in another building is moving in with us in March, and we're going to all be sharing offices, which should be a lovely nightmare. To that end, she asked if I would be interested in working at home two days a week. Would I! I accepted and asked if I could start immediately, instead of waiting until March. She thinks I want to save the $10 a day it costs me to commute and spend more time with my dog, both of which will be nice benefits, but really it's because, well, I'm quitting in March, so it won't be of much use to me then.
But really, the thing is that I've been writing other stuff. See, I'm really an editor, but I write too (what editor doesn't, right?). Although being a writer isn't actually my dream or anything, it would be cool, and several years ago, I wrote a book. Then, some time later, I managed to get an agent to represent me. Which was pretty awesome, and if it never goes further than that, I'll still be happy. She e-mailed me yesterday to say that yet another publishing company had rejected it, which is fine, because it's really pretty sucky. I made the mistake of saying that I've got another book in the works and that I hope moving to Hawaii will give me more time to work on it. She was ecstatic.
So the thing is, now I actually have to write the stupid thing. And I told her it was better than the first, sucky book, so I actually have to concentrate on it. Which is a pain in the ass. So, I did 200 words yesterday to get warmed up, and tonight went really well--I did 812 words. At this rate, I'll have it done in three months. Of course, that won't actually happen--the last book I did went great for 95 pages and then completely petered out. Anyone interested in purchasing the rights to a half-finished book? There's a pretty girl in it. And an ugly girl. And a hooker!
So, that's why I've been distracted. I promise to do better. I have to--for some reason, my blog traffic has jumped a lot the past few days. It's the armpit searches, isn't it? Everybody loves the armpit. Everybody but me.
So, I know I haven't written a real post in a couple of days. I've been distracted. I work at home on Fridays because my commute is 90 minutes each way. Two days ago, my boss told me a division of our company that works in another building is moving in with us in March, and we're going to all be sharing offices, which should be a lovely nightmare. To that end, she asked if I would be interested in working at home two days a week. Would I! I accepted and asked if I could start immediately, instead of waiting until March. She thinks I want to save the $10 a day it costs me to commute and spend more time with my dog, both of which will be nice benefits, but really it's because, well, I'm quitting in March, so it won't be of much use to me then.
But really, the thing is that I've been writing other stuff. See, I'm really an editor, but I write too (what editor doesn't, right?). Although being a writer isn't actually my dream or anything, it would be cool, and several years ago, I wrote a book. Then, some time later, I managed to get an agent to represent me. Which was pretty awesome, and if it never goes further than that, I'll still be happy. She e-mailed me yesterday to say that yet another publishing company had rejected it, which is fine, because it's really pretty sucky. I made the mistake of saying that I've got another book in the works and that I hope moving to Hawaii will give me more time to work on it. She was ecstatic.
So the thing is, now I actually have to write the stupid thing. And I told her it was better than the first, sucky book, so I actually have to concentrate on it. Which is a pain in the ass. So, I did 200 words yesterday to get warmed up, and tonight went really well--I did 812 words. At this rate, I'll have it done in three months. Of course, that won't actually happen--the last book I did went great for 95 pages and then completely petered out. Anyone interested in purchasing the rights to a half-finished book? There's a pretty girl in it. And an ugly girl. And a hooker!
So, that's why I've been distracted. I promise to do better. I have to--for some reason, my blog traffic has jumped a lot the past few days. It's the armpit searches, isn't it? Everybody loves the armpit. Everybody but me.
January 05, 2005
Say Again?
According to a CNN report: A U.S. Army major general "predicted the security situation in Baghdad will improve by the time elections are held, although he said attacks probably will increase leading up to January 30."
Um, is it just me, or is that an oxymoron?
Um, is it just me, or is that an oxymoron?
January 04, 2005
How Did I Get to Be the Armpit Girl?
Ah, another wayward Internet soul found me by searching for "I love armpits." I do not, as a rule, love armpits, but I'm glad someone does. They are probably an underappreciated part of the human body, much like intestines or the pineal gland. You go, armpit lover.
January 03, 2005
I'm So Hungry
I just discovered my new favorite blog, The Food Whore. I love food very, very much (who doesn't?), and this caterer/bitter and caustic blogger takes it to a whole new level. Plus, she's funny. What could be better?
Caution: Do not read without a wheel of Brie and some pesto nearby, because, seriously, you will be starving by the end.
Caution: Do not read without a wheel of Brie and some pesto nearby, because, seriously, you will be starving by the end.
Money Matters
Happy New Year! I've been carefully watching my blog statistics because they have been nearing 2,000 visitors, and I wanted to say a big thank you to everyone when then did. Then, this morning, I realized that the statistics were only set to include this month. Because I am a dork. So, instead, thank you and welcome to Rotten Eggs' 4,000th visitor! Who should be arriving some time this afternoon, if everyone is back from holiday and checking blogs again. Really, that's amazing--this makes up for no one asking me to my junior prom. (By senior year, I decided to take matters into my own hands and asked my super-hot, older boyfriend who was 22, legal to drink, and able to rent a hotel room. I was the coolest chick at prom that year. Okay, maybe not, but I felt that way.)
In other news, now that the new year is upon us, and because I am neurotic, I am starting to think about taxes, which are due in three months and two weeks. It's almost time! I usually complete my taxes so early that I get some missing form from a company I worked for after I've already sent them in, and then I have to file an amended form, which always terrifies me, because I feel like it attracts the IRS's attention.
While thinking about taxes, I was contemplating our home, which we will be selling in three months (!!!) when we move to Hawaii. Therefore, I need any lovely blog readers out there who know anything at all about finances to give me some free advice. (Yes, I know, that's a bit arrogant, but really, none of you know me in real life, so who cares?) When we move, we'll be living in Navy housing, so we will not need the profits from our home for two to three years, at which point we'll use them to buy another home. During those two or so years, what should we do with the money? We expect to profit about $100,000, maybe $120,000. What's the best way to invest it?
The other option, other than selling and investing, is to keep our house and rent it out, which is what the King wants to do. I am terrified of that, because I have horrible nightmares about renters trashing the place, disappearing without paying, etc. Any opinions on that? We've been discussing it for months, and could use a tie-breaking vote.
In other news, now that the new year is upon us, and because I am neurotic, I am starting to think about taxes, which are due in three months and two weeks. It's almost time! I usually complete my taxes so early that I get some missing form from a company I worked for after I've already sent them in, and then I have to file an amended form, which always terrifies me, because I feel like it attracts the IRS's attention.
While thinking about taxes, I was contemplating our home, which we will be selling in three months (!!!) when we move to Hawaii. Therefore, I need any lovely blog readers out there who know anything at all about finances to give me some free advice. (Yes, I know, that's a bit arrogant, but really, none of you know me in real life, so who cares?) When we move, we'll be living in Navy housing, so we will not need the profits from our home for two to three years, at which point we'll use them to buy another home. During those two or so years, what should we do with the money? We expect to profit about $100,000, maybe $120,000. What's the best way to invest it?
The other option, other than selling and investing, is to keep our house and rent it out, which is what the King wants to do. I am terrified of that, because I have horrible nightmares about renters trashing the place, disappearing without paying, etc. Any opinions on that? We've been discussing it for months, and could use a tie-breaking vote.
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