Tuesday, October 30, 2012

The Great Pumpkin

It.  Is.  Tuesday.

My week thus far has not exactly been a musical montage of jumping in leaves, wearing a charmingly pointed witches hat and eating all things caramel and pumpkin.

I am writing to you in the following state:

  1. I went a glorious week without jaw problems.. this morning was out running errands, I yawned, and now it has unhinged itself again.
  2. Fairly certain Bubba the Magnificent and his unstoppable German immune system have quietly brought me home some sort of bug
  3. My Aunt this morning was having surgery, and something went wrong.  No idea of any details except my Mom is rushing home from two hours away and they've transferred my Aunt to a different hospital.
So I am hovering over this computer ready to change clothes and run if need be, sans ability to speak and a scratchy throat to boot.

That's right ladies, Stork is bringing you autumn cheer live and in HD.

Not so much.

Confession:  I am normally made entirely out of claymation between October and January, an obnoxiously positive toy from the Island of Misfits.  I love Halloween, I love Thanksgiving, I love Christmas.

I thought it was the weather, maybe, but other than a slightly higher intake of horror movies, I haven't really been into it so far this year.

So not into it, in fact, that Bubba - who is not a holiday man - had to say to me this weekend "shouldn't we have more decorations?  Maybe a pumpkin?"

I would be lying if I said it was just the weather that has me a little less appreciative.  I get hundreds - if not an even thousand - of trick-or-treaters.  No exaggeration.

So last year and even more so the year before, when there was a never-ending parade of small, waddling children dressed up as various animals, I thought 'oh this is so cute - I can't wait to do this with my kids... by this time next year I'll at least be pregnant'.

This year, more than likely, my internal response to the child-safari will be "Great, this is scary.  I will spend the rest of my life handing out candy to other people's kids in a witches hat until eventually I'll be so old and alone the witch rumors will be real and year-round."

Sure, I have my zombie woman on my front porch, I finally gave in and bought a pumpkin today, and my dogs will be dressed as a pig and a skunk.  And while skunk & pig are adorable and I love them to a psychotic, psychotic degree, they're not exactly tricking me into thinking I'm a Mom.

Much like Lionus in the Great Pumpkin, I stupidly think every year that if I show enough faith, things will change.  One more year and I'll have my Great Pumpkin belly.  The ever-elusive reward for my patience will show up, and my holidays won't be ruined.  Every year I think it'll be it, and it turns out to be another year of dogs in costumes. Every year it's a little worse, and every year I have to dust myself off and say 'next year will be different'.

My lovelies, I have so much to catch up on.

To those who nominated me for a bloggy award - a hearty smooch to your behind, I'm gonna get on it.

I am 10 million years behind on writing prompts so prepare to get WAY too much Storky information in one day.

I'm gonna post a scary story of mine for Halloween.  Yes indeed.

And I am sooooo thrilled that I got so many props for the entry I did on Thursday.  I'm a quasi-brave person but I was nervous to write anything political!  Thankfully my pissed side overpowered my chicken side... But I thought it was awesome how many people are thinking the same thing ( we need to be louder about it, girls) and even those who disagreed disagreed on only some aspects and did it very kindly.  Warms my frightened uterus right up.

May your Great Pumpkins be here by next year.

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Get Your Bologna Out of My Vaj

Greetings ladies.

I'm going to explode.  No seriously you should back up otherwise you're going to get something on you.

Warning - this is going to get quasi-political.  And though I can sense out in the ether some followers perhaps clicking the 'unfollow' button, some lurkers deciding that their time is better spent hiding in someone else's bush (pun intended and awesome) and some ICLWers innocently arriving here and falling victim to my wrath..  This is, after all, among other things a place to vent, right? Today you are going to get my not altogether organized and somewhat hostile thoughts.

I need old men to stop talking about my vaj.  Like, yesterday.

Who knew - all these years I've been thinking my uterus was empty, getting sad about it and working myself into a frenzy that can only be compared to a woman that's been watching Steel Magnolia's (the Sally Field version, please) for 2 days straight and this whole time it's been occupied!  It wasn't empty at all, ladies!  It was occupied!

By an adorable growing baby with Bub's brains and my wit?  No.  By hundreds of tiny decrepit aging white men in suits and invariably red ties.  They have crawled up there in the middle of the night like little uterine elves, raised up an American flag and have since been making discoveries - okay sure, they defy the logic of science, common sense and any form of morality but discoveries just the same! - and coming to quite the interesting conclusions.

Oh, and I would abort them but apparently that's going to be illegal soon.  I'll get back to you on what they decide.

For those of you who may have missed it, or those who are the delightful residents of countries that do not have the access to time machines and therefor aren't dealing with men from the 1950's (and earlier) popping up like a sudden colony of unstoppable cockroaches - a sweet looking bumbly man named Richard Mourdock, who is a representative in Indiana, made a fascinating little declaration yesterday:

"I think even when life begins in that horrible situation of rape, that’s something God intended to happen."

Drink it in, ladies, drink. it. in.

To be fair, the link I included was one that includes his... defense of himself.  (Oh lawdy I need a shower).

Now I have openly admitted on here that I am a bleeding-heart liberal (I can feel some of your mouses hovering over the unfollow button - I'm fairly open minded I swear) but I do not believe this is a Us vs. Them issue.  It is a vaj issue.

That being said - this lovely little picture was circling around the interwebs yesterday which is.. a Greatest Hits, if you will, of the rape comments that have been made in the last year (with a bonus track from the 90s).

Again, I believe this is a vaj issue.  I would like to, in my silly little mind, think that Republican women hear things like this, think it's disgusting and say to the closest man wearing a tie "No seriously, shut the fuck up about rape for the sake of the party, at least".

My writing partner Kali came over last night to do some work, and as we were procrastinating and eating pizza we watched CNN essentially going over some of the things, including yesterday's gem, that has been terrifying women with any sense about them.

Bare in mind that Kali is single, childless, highly successful, Jewish, and in possession of a vagina.  I am loud mouth, for all intents and purposes Mexican, also in possession of a vagina.  This talk is starting to make her think that she is going to have horns glued to her head and it's starting to make me think I'm going to probably end up being burnt for witchcraft at some point.

I don't want to get into an abortion debate, but the argument being made for this comment (yes, there is one) is that he's simply stating his opinion that a life is a life is a life.

Here goes.  I am pro-choice.  And people who are pro-life, while I respect you, you need to start calling yourself pro-birth because most of you seem to want all babies to be born and then not give a shit about them once they are (we don't want to give that poor woman forced into having her 9th child money, after all, we want her to earn it).  And as I've said before - if I had been 16 and pregnant (ha! always the clown) maybe I would've had an abortion or maybe I would've been thoroughly disgusted by the very idea - it doesn't matter because regardless, there's no fucking way I would've told you what to do.

And PS, and possibly my greatest pro-choice argument, by making abortions illegal you are by no means stopping abortion.  YOU ARE STOPPING SAFE ABORTIONS.

The idea that we are pointing at other countries and fully understanding that the fact that they are run by religion instead of democracy, and hold their women (and other second class citizens) up to psychotic standards of taking-it-up-the-ass is wrong and the cause of a lot of grief, is awesome.  The fact that some of these people who thoroughly understand that about those 'others', those 'boogie' men, and then want to turn around and 'fix' this country by allowing it to be run by a particular religion and holding all citizens (believers or infidels) up to those standards is mind-boggling.

If I have to start referring to a certain weird section of America as the Tealiban to get my point across, so be it.

And for G-ds sake - anyone making the argument that our forefathers were Christians creating a Christian nation, read a book. Any book.

This shouldn't even be a religious or political issue.  This should be a batshit insane, get out of my vajayjay issue.

So basically,  women who do not want to have children and can't take care of them are going to have to have them (and get very little help once they do), women who need IVF will not be able to have them, and fuck the gays who are looking to adopt.

So for those of us keeping score - if you are physically able to have kids but totally irresponsible to take care of them, you are born Mothers and should accept G-ds gift.  If you are physically unable to have kids but are responsible, ready, and put more thought into it than a bottle of tequila could provide - sorry, you're screwed.  G-ds will, dontchaknow.

There are people (oh yes indeed) making the argument that this isn't even going to matter to some people because the real issue is the economy.

Not for me.

Frankly, I am fine financially, excellent in fact (and ps - having said that, I do not mind the tiniest bit paying extra taxes to help those who aren't, knowing full damn well that there's some people taking advantage simply because there are people who are not). I understand that jobs are a huge fucking problem and need to be looked at - but on a personal note?  I'll vote where gay rights are, because even if I agreed with a candidate everywhere else (and thankfully I don't) I have no business looking my best friend in the eye and telling him that my finances are more important than his entire life.  I will also be voting for my vagina and yours.

The idea that anyone is wasting any time redefining rape (and that they all seem to have a penis) in 2012 is fucking disgusting.

As women, we are violated far more often than these men can seem to understand.

Even if you have never been raped, the likelihood of you not knowing someone who has been is slim to none (whether you know it or not).  And even if you dodged that bullet, you live with it every day.  We check our backseats before we get into our car at night, shake in our boots when we walk to that car alone, deal with catcalls and aggressiveness, jump every time we hear a creak in our house.  You may not have been a victim of rape, but I guarandamntee you you have at least one daily habit that has become second nature that's sole purpose is avoiding rape.  The bravest of the brave of us have a regular fear that we live with.

I am thinking that a week in a maximum security prison may change these mens' tunes on rape, and do not tell me that if men were the ones who carried children we would even be discussing abortion.  As I read somewhere - there would be more abortion clinics than Starbucks.

This does not become a magical and G-d ordained experience simply if your rapists sperm meets up with your egg.  (And by the way, 31 states still allow, in that case, your rapist visitation rights).

So what makes women feel better about sexual assault in a world where it is an everyday fear to begin with? Why, redefining it, of course!  We've just been too strict and harsh with this concept, don't you agree?  It's nice to think that in this world there are both rapists and men who will view it in a soft light providing it results in conception.  That doesn't make me feel violated at all!

I would thoroughly appreciate it, old men stomping around in my uterus and making themselves comfy, if you could get stricter on rape instead of more lenient, stop associating it in any way with a miraculous child, and for chrissakes certainly don't bring G-d into it (again - Jesus. would be.  MORTIFIED).

Ahhhh... and PS - yesterdays big news items -
  1. Donald Trump offered 5 million dollars for the President to release his passport and college records (not racist at all!).
  2. Ann Coulter (who is essentially Rush Limbaugh but with a more pronounced Adam's apple) repeatedly called the President a retard and
  3. The rape hits just keep on coming
All coincided with a Holiday.  Can you guess what holiday it was?


National Bologna Day.  No shit.

(And if you haven't read it - a special needs gentleman responded to Ann Coulter in an open letter.  It is lovely and awesome, and does not have an ounce of the hostility that I have over her comments.. suffice it to say he could certainly teach me more than a thing or two).

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Badass Raccoon Shit

Happy Wednesday, Chiquita Bananas!

May I just say that my Monday (and part of my Tuesday) was mother freaking awesome - awesome I tell you! - because of you all and the vlogs.  I am a fairly brave person and it is a scary, scary concept of putting your face on the internet (even temporarily) with all it's pock marks and bugaboos for people to gawk at.  I bow in the face of your awesomeness.

It was magical.  It was like getting permission to search through someone's underwear drawer.  Totally satisfying to the peeping-tom spirit and delightfully dirty somehow.

So first, thank you to Miss Jenn over at Future Fords who gave me the idea - she's doing writing prompts (which I have to catch up on) and casually snuck in a video request on one of the days.  So a big thanks to her for letting me go from "that bitch is crazy" to "wait, this is kind of liberating" to "she is brilliant!" and thus knocking me up with the idea of doing this in the first place.

And an even bigger thank you to everyone who participated - for totally making my week, first of all, and secondly for being a bunch of fucking reproductive badasses all around.

We're going to do this again, maybe in a month or so (should we do the same kind of free for all questions?  Should there be a theme?) and PS, some of the vlogs got up a little late so it's worth checking the list again (I'll post it at the end of this bad boy).

And you there - yes you -  you're going to join us next time. I've done the macarena in a t-shirt celebrating an all nude Golden Girls art opening.... you can't outdo me in the weird department, I can only make you look good.  Join the badass movement.

In other news, there's a demon living in my shed.

Some helpful information in comprehending this:

  1. I go scary movie crazy during the month of October.  I'm not a total horror freak usually, though it does hold a dark, weird spot in my heart.. That being said, it's completely masochistic because they still scare the crap out of me (ask Sunny, she will attest to this).
  2. Of course I don't really believe there's something awful in my shed... right?  That's crazy.
  3. I have a shed.
I live in a house that was built in the... 50s?  Anyhoo.  Only one couple has ever lived here prior to us, they bought it new and died in the house.  ( Don't panic - semi-natural deaths, it's not like they hung from the chandelier or anything).

We've been here 3 years. We bought the house because for the price it was large, and it's in an awesome neighborhood.  The interior was not new or remodeled.  Evidently the previous couple (who from all accounts were totally lovely) did all their decorating in the 70s and stuck with it.  Carpet on the floor, wood on the walls, a built in bar, and my office used to have mauve carpeting.  Suffice it to say, though I love the 70s not exactly our taste - so we moved in and did a lot of renovations.

Anyhow, the previous gentleman who lived here made a lot of the wood stuff with his bare hands.  So when we redid things (and it's still an ongoing project - our kitchen is a travesty) I didn't feel right about throwing everything out.  So right now, for example, I'm sitting at a wood table that he made, and some of the stuff we took apart instead of getting rid of it I put in the shed.. which we don't really use.


Only a few 'weird' things have happened which I will share with you... There's a tiny window in our attic (which I will never, ever go into - good luck with that, Bubba).  It occasionally opens and closes itself.  One day we were sitting in the living room, and heard a ticking coming from the attic.  Bubba goes up and has to go waaaaay deep into it, and some christmas light timer thing from the 60s had turned itself on.  So does, on occasion, the attic fan.  You can't turn it on or off.. it just does it by itself every once in awhile, and definitely doesn't follow any heat pattern.

Again, I've been bulking up on horror movies to try and get in the Halloween Spirit.  So it is bad timing that the door to my shed (which should in theory, be locked) keeps opening itself and closing itself.  I will close it,  the door is stuck, I will wake up the next morning and it's wide open.  This is the 3rd day in a row.  I am hoping this is just a family of raccoon locksmiths.

And now, from where I'm sitting in my backyard, I swear I can see a face (which I'm rationalizing has to be a trick-o-the-eye with insulation and the sun, right?).  It is so ludicrously clear that I was completely going to attempt to get a picture for you... but I fear, if this were a horror movie, when the chubby girl home alone picks up her phone and slowly approaches the shed-face to get a better look through her view finder, that would be the point where we would all shout at the screen "What the fuck are you doing you moron?!?"

I am Jenny.  I am part badass part chicken shit.  It will be a relief if my shed is full of raccoon shit.

**EDIT - after reading the first few comments on this I have a Stork request!  (I know, I know - you're exhausted from my last one).  Can everyone please at some point write a blog post about their paranormal experiences?  I'm getting a tiny taste of just a few and dying to hear more. (I have one that I'll share that makes me sound totally insane, if that's any incentive).  I feel that'll get us in the Halloweeny mood and help me hurl myself into a total paranormal breakdown. 

Now go check to see if you missed any, lovelies - some got up late.  Far better than watching horror movies, I tell you.

Aspgriswold at Growing Griswolds
Jenny at Sprout
LeslieGail at My Hormonacoaster
Hapa Hopes at Hapa Hopes
Bridget at Iydkmigthtky
Kristin at Return to Go
Arwen Rose at MRKH Musings
Kitty Belle at The Hopeful Journey
Stork Chaser at Dog Mom Chasing the Stork
SM at Unexplained Rantings   (password: magical toes)
Sunny at Cease And Decyst
Belle at Scrambled Eggs
Sharon at Ova Achiever

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Vlog Day!

It is Monday, day of video challenge!

Oh, and PS - if you are here from ICLW, greetings!  This might be an excellent post to get a sense of me (and hopefully get you on board for any future video challenges - it's kinda liberating).

I submit for your viewing pleasure.  Again, though I have managed to keep my balls nice and plump and kept up the last one, no guarantees how long this one will be up... but I am plumping my balls as we speak.

Now go watch these ballsy, ballsy ladies videos:

Aspgriswold at Growing Griswolds
Jenny at Sprout
LeslieGail at My Hormonacoaster
Hapa Hopes at Hapa Hopes
Bridget at Iydkmigthtky
Kristin at Return to Go
Arwen Rose at MRKH Musings
Kitty Belle at The Hopeful Journey
Stork Chaser at Dog Mom Chasing the Stork
SM at Unexplained Rantings   (password: magical toes)
Sunny at Cease And Decyst
Belle at Scrambled Eggs
Sharon at Ova Achiever

Video Prompts

Good morrow, to those for whose ute I root.

Tomorrow is video day.  Put on your brave panties.

I am doing mine Monday morning, so in fact some of yours will probably be up before mine - which is good because this will be my newest post for awhile.

I mother effing love that we got so many questions ( I was afraid we'd have... 2).  Since we have so many - feel free to answer all, some, skip around, do them backwards - Stork isn't strict.  I, for one, am going to answer every last one.  

(Also - there is a question for I'm pretty sure all participating nationalities under specific bloggers.  Show us your weird accent.)

And now, the questions to answer.

All Bloggers:

1.  Describe the setting in which you lost your virginity.

2. What is the worst thing a fertile has said to you without thinking?

3. The cast of the three amigos - Steve Martin, Chevy Chase, Martin Short. You have to marry one, kill one, and screw one. Go.

4.  Where are you located?

5.  Describe your IF journey thus far in 10 words or less.

6. Leaving out weddings and births - what was one of the best, proudest, or most exhilarating moments of your life?

7. What has been the best part of your IF journey and why?

8.  How do you cope with everyday life while cycling?

9. if you could have any one be the father of your child(ren), aside from your current choice, who would it be and why? (I must interject here - don't cheat on this.  We all know you love your current partner).

10.  what is the best advice someone gave you in regard to IF and treatment?

11. Where is the strangest place you and your husband/partner got it on during your "fertile window" simply because you had no other choice?

12.  Give a quick little tour of the room you are currently sitting in. 

13.  what is your number one bad habit?

14. what prompted you to blog about your IF journey?

15. Outside of the blogging community, do you openly share your IF story?

16.  What is the phrase/comment that people say when they find out about your IF that completely annoys/upsets/bugs you? Do you correct them on proper etiquette?

17.  How do you like to relax?

18.  What are your current Tv show obsessions?

19.  If you had to choose between never having an orgasm again, or never being able to hear another note of music, a song, singing, or anything involving a musical instrument or melody, which choice would you pick?

20. Sing (or say, if you're chicken to sing!) one line or verse from the song you first-danced to at your wedding--don't tell us what it is. It will be fun to guess. If you're not married, or didn't do a first dance, sing a song that reminds you of your partner. If you're single, sing any verse from any song you'd like, loud and proud!

21.   What do you do for fun, or in your spare time?

22. If you were to take the myers brigs test ...what personality would you be?

23. What is you favorite thing to drink? (let's think alcohol ladies)?

24. If you were at Hogwarts circa The Half Blood prince, when Snape explained that spells go in and out of fashion... what spell would you make up, and what would it do?

25. out of all the most awesome songs that contain a female's name in the title... which is your favourite?

26. If you could travel to anywhere in the world for a month long holiday now where would you go and why?

27. What was the very first physical thing you noticed/were attracted to in your husband/ partner?

28. Which quality in your husband/partner do you now find most attractive, years into your relationship?

29. If you were a pickle in a pickle jar...where in the jar would you want to be and why?

30. What is your dream profession and is it your current job?

31. Are you now - who you thought you'd grow up to be? (presuming you've stopped growing which is a silly thing)

32. Piercings or tattoos you're willing to show us?

33. If you could take a peek at what your life will be like 5 years into the future would you?

34. What do you know now that you wish you knew before you started TTC?

35. What is your occupation and do you love it or hate it?

36. Do you have an weird "talents"? Crossing eyes? Being able to recite the alphabet backwards...etc.

Specific Bloggers:

American ladies - please say "cut in half", "cereal bowl", and "Cinnamon Grahams"

Australian ladies - please say: castle, lieutenant, data, pasta, aluminum. 

British ladies - please say: glacier, advertisement, lieutenant, pedophile, schedule, jaguar, weekend.

Canadian ladies - please say:  house, pout, chocolate, oranges, sorry.

Amanda - Where do you get the inspiration for your art and what's your usual paint medium?

Stupid stork - exactly how does one do the macarena.  (Oh my).

Sunny - try to wiggle your ears.

Stork chaser - can you stick out your tongue and touch your nose with it?

Janet - please say "I caught a trout while out and about." And tell us the last 4 letters of the alphabet.

And lastly, the list of loverly participants:
Aspgriswold at Growing Griswolds
Jenny at Sprout
LeslieGail at My Hormonacoaster
Hapa Hopes at Hapa Hopes
Bridget at Iydkmigthtky
Kristin at Return to Go
Arwen Rose at MRKH Musings
Kitty Belle at The Hopeful Journey
Stork Chaser at Dog Mom Chasing the Stork
SM at Unexplained Rantings   (password: magical toes)
Belle at Scrambled Eggs
Sharon at Ova Achiever

Go!  Watch!  Gawk!

And for G-ds sake start taping.

Saturday, October 20, 2012

Sunny vs. Sinister

Happy Saturday, my little swashbucklers!

You should be jealous of me right now.  What?  Yes you should.  Last night I had a blind date.  No no, not the Ashley Madison kind, the infertile kind.

I got to meet Sunny from Cease and Decyst.  BOOM.  Drink it in.

I imagine when meeting someone off the interwebs a part of you wonders if
  1. this is in fact going to be a middle-aged serial killer or
  2. just want to share with you that if you simply donated $10,000 to their pyramid and believed wholeheartedly in the spiritual enlightenment of a bald man passing out flowers on Hollywood Blvd, you, too, could be a member of their cult get pregnant.
So it is with my delight that I can officially put my Storkiest Stamp of approval on Miss Sunny, who could not be more awesome if she tried.  She is of a Rockstar status in the mind of Stork and I would genuinely pursue her as a friend with creepy zeal whether or not we had shittiness in common (and we do, which makes it even more awesome).

I now highly recommend overlooking any of the above mentioned fears in getting together with a local infertile and doing it.  It is fucking liberating to be in the presence of someone who is equally pissed off about the very existence of children whilst simultaneously scheming how to create one.

We ate at a cute little 50's diner that I had never been to and discussed, among other things, porn, jerking off into a cup and let's face it, the greatest series of all time, To Catch a Predator.  (And if you are unfamiliar with that series, do yourself a favor and tune into MSNBC on a Sunday - which seems to be sex predator Sunday - it will either be documentaries on sex slaves or reruns of the aforementioned awesomeness).

Then, and I take full credit/blame for this, we wedged ourselves among hoards of teenagers (a healthy reminder - try as we might to get babies, everyone fucking sucks at that age with few exceptions) and saw Sinister.  My darling, brave Sunny was frightened during the previews... I of course took the high road and hid behind a popcorn bag.

Ahh, and for those of you who do not want to see this movie I'll sum it up for you (without any major spoilers).
  1. Happy family moves into house.
  2. Man wears sweater with suede elbow patches.
  3. Sidenote - the post-Uma years have not been kind to Mr. Ethan Hawke.
  4. Man finds movies of murders.
  5. Man still wears sweater.
  6. Shit gets bananas.
  7. No.. seriously... weeks go by and he's still in this sweater.
Let me again make my case for those of you who don't like horror movies - in short, the moral of all horror movies is that nothing good can come of having children easily.  It's basically an open invitation for demons, little girl ghosts, and your possible dismemberment. (Also, in this instance, the moral would also be to do your laundry every once in awhile).


I adore her, be jealous of me, go read her if you're not already because I don't know what you could possibly otherwise be doing with your life.

And I will mention this again when it's not the weekend and more people are reading - but we're going to plan an outing for anyone remotely local and infertile, probably next month.  Something infertile friendly, like dinner and drag queens.

And now, a-la writing prompts, a little something about my Grandmother.

How do I describe her.... She is like, the elderly female Mexican version of Ron Swanson if you took away his hunting and woodwork.

She is both no-nonsense, and absolutely ludicrous.

Some Grandma facts:
  • She calls my Grandpa "viejo" (old man) and will tell anyone that will listen that he drives her insane.
  • Despite approaching 90, she still rides the scary rides at Disneyland and calls those who don't 'a bunch of chickens'.
  • She was visiting us once when I was 9 and I got a very bad splinter on the bottom of my foot.  She spent an hour removing it - with a butcher knife - and told me 'not to be such a chicken'.
  • Until recently she made menudo (no not the boy band, a mexican soup which is the end-all be-all cure for hangovers) every Sunday for our entire family. And there are a lot of us.  We like to mate. Mexican rabbits, I say.
  • She will feed you whether or not you're hungry and take it as a personal attack if you don't eat.  Also?  That part that you don't eat - that's the best part.
  • She once lost her glasses for a few days, accused everyone in the family of treason, and then discovered they were in a salad bowl in the fridge.
  • One of her favorite words is shit.

Yes indeed folks, this is the stock I come from.  I want to be her when I'm an old lady.

Tomorrow I am posting the list of participants and questions for Mondays video!  Last chance - don't be a bunch of chickens.

May your Saturday be heavy on the Sunny and light on the Sinister.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Movers and Shakers

This is Thursday.

Is it living up to your expectations?  Is it everything you thought it could be and more, or did you inexplicably wake up this morning trapped in a binder?

Never fear.  I'm about to make it awesome.

I understand that people tell you to watch videos and sometimes they are dumb or just not your particular cup of tea, and the act of clicking 'play' on a video and watching can sometimes be exhausting.

However, someone sent this to me last night, and I half-ass clicked on it as I was getting ready to sleep and almost wet the bed.  This is... so ludicrous there are no words.  Never fear, it is nothing that is actually political.  I repeat - ludicrous.

I give you, a bad lip reading of the first presidential debate of 2012.

You should genuinely have no idea what just happened to you.

And now, to catch up on writing prompts.

If you could go back in time, what decade would you choose to live in?
Okay, so obviously with the infertility shenanigans this is the one decade where I may not have to live out my life collecting porcelain cats and pretending they're my children.

I should also point out that if when I'm 75 a scientist runs out of his lab, throws his hands to the sky and shouts for all the world to hear "I finally cured infertility, bitches!" I'll be happy for some, but yeah.. Mostly I'll be really, really pissed.

So infertility aside, I would, hands down, live in the 60s.  Love the music, love the vibe, love the clothes - love, love, love.  I have genuinely been misplaced in time.

A little TMI? Share something you never thought you would ever post on the internet.
I don't believe in the concept of TMI!  Apart from posting my credit card information, there is nothing I would consider too gross for this blog.

Seriously.  The concept of TMI drives me fucking bonkers.  As I've said before, if someone were to post that their infertility woes were in any way diminished by blowing snot rockets up their partner's ass, I wouldn't think 'gross why is she sharing that', I would be looking up ways to bulk up my snot.

How would you describe your personal style?
Decorating style?  Bohemian.

With very few exceptions, everything I own, clothing or decorating wise, is black, white, or lower half of the rainbow.  Red, orange, yellow... no-no-no.

Pajamas for me are a religious experience.  If I'm at home, I am in pajamas.

If I am out and about, clothing style is also bohemian (although occasionally I'll buy something because it'll make me feel like I'm from another time - like a polka dot dress that makes me feel like I'm in the 40s).  I can't resist a peasant top.  Cannot.  I hate shoes (I know, I know, call the vagina police) with the exception of flip-flops and hooker boots.  My favorite article of clothing that I own of all time, that I rarely get to wear (damn you California) is my 'Penny Lane' coat that my Mom found me.  No idea where it is right now, but to give you the jist -

Make an acrostic of your first name (or pseudonym) using each letter to describe yourself.
J - ::jazz hands::
E - eats her weight in garlic.  (seriously - put enough garlic on a live squirrel & I'll eat it)
N - nostalgic.
N - Nearsighted.  There is not a chance in hell your eyes are as bad as mine.  no chance.
Y - Yankee, I suppose.

What is your favorite quote?
Eee gads.. I have 3, depending on my mood.

"All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible." - T.E. Lawrence

We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;—
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.
~Arthur O'Shaughnessy, "Ode," 1874

Ars longa,
vita brevis,
occasio praeceps,
experimentum periculosum,
iudicium difficile

(Life is short,
and Art long,
opportunity fleeting,
experience perilous,
and decision difficult)

(Abbreviated version on a wall in West Hollywood).

My darling chickabees, even though it may not be as good as eye of the sparrow - our videos are coming... Our videos are coming....

To throw your brave hat into the ring, go here.  To ask a question of our lovely ladies, click here.

You know you want in - life is short, my lovelies, just as my cement friend in Hollywood says.

And if you liked that last one (OMG - go watch it.  You must). Here is, possibly, an even funnier one.

Again, you're welcome.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Boobies. Butts. Communists.

Hope your Wednesdays are going fabulously, my sweet, sweet delectable treats, and I hope my very grown-up title has drawn you in.

Today is question day.

This Monday, the 22nd, some of us are going to put up a video of ourselves.  (I'm gonna list the participants - if you're just now realizing this is happening or are having a braver Wednesday than you anticipated, by all means let me know in the comment section and I'll add you.. Some of you also seemed unsure so I haven't added you yet - lemme know!).

We need questions for us to answer in these videos - so please, participating or not, leave a question in the comment section of this post.

Nothing is off limits.  Fertility related or not at all.  These can be incredibly thoughtful or just something dumb that you're thinking of right now.  You can ask one question or ten.  The point is to ask a question.

You can ask questions for everyone, AND/or you can ask questions of a specific blogger if there's someone on the list you always wanted to ask something of.  Now's your chance.  You can even ask us to say specific words (I know some of you want to be dirty talked, you naughty little birds).

If you're participating, I'll put a link up on Sunday back to this post so all the questions for you to answer are in one place and on Monday I'll put up my video and repeat the links to participants.

The list of awesomely brave participants:

Stupid Stork at Stupid Stork
Lisa at (Still) Trying to Conceive
K at Our Growing Gardunn (I'm holding you to your beer-laced acceptance)
Cat at Already in my heart
EmHart at Follow Every Rainbow
Aspgriswold at Growing Griswolds
Jenny at Sprout
LeslieGail at My Hormonacoaster
B at A Work in Progress
Hapa Hopes at Hapa Hopes
Bridget at Iydkmigthtky
Kristin at Return to Go
Jenn at The Future Fords
Arwen Rose at MRKH Musings
Kitty Belle at The Hopeful Journey
Slese1014 at Mommyhood after Fertility Frustration
Stork Chaser at Dog Mom Chasing the Stork
Janet at Just A Little Off Kilter
SM at Unexplained Rantings
Sunny at Cease And Decyst
Belle at Scrambled Eggs
Sharon at Ova Achiever

So I am going to ask my questions in the comment section as well (and for this entry only won't be responding to comments so it's easier for people to read for their video) and make it my personal project the next couple of days to figure out individual questions for each blogger.

And now, a picture of a pug going down a slide.

And now, some unrelated bloggy news.

Jessica is one of my oldest in-real-life friends.  Many a moon ago, we went to the same High School.  She was two years ahead of me, somehow thought I was too cool for her, and worked up the bravery to sit down next to me and start blabbering.  She is funny. She is out of her freaking mind.  She resembles a cartoon mouse.  And now, she has started a blog.  I pimp her happily because knowing her is like having a never-ending acid trip where the cartoon mice are singing to you. Could not be a bigger fan.

On a more somber note, this is KelBel, who is as sweet as sweet can be, at Tales from Our Yellow Brick Road.  She lost her pregnancy this week.  Please go and send some strong, loving vibes.

This is Jenn, she of the brilliant writing prompts, at The Future Fords.  She's having a rough day.  Do a jig in her general direction.

Alright - leave a question!  Leave a question!  Leave a question!

Monday, October 15, 2012

You're a Chicken and I'm Diane Keaton

Greetings, citizens of Blog world!

Forgive me in advance for any misspellings in this post, my p is sticking (ahhh, source of all my woes - my pee sticks and my p sticking).

Should you only be in the mood for a low dose of Stork today, please ignore this post entirely and may I draw your attention here.  A week from today, there is going to be a video challenge. Should you want to join in on the fun - and you should, we're going to collectively take a little bit of shame out of all this by coming out of the closet - please refer to that post and join.  And if you are super famous and/or your face is full of boils, you may participate in said challenge using only your voice (and I promise - when drawing my mental picture of you, I'll give you really, really good boobs).

If you are not down for either, I call chicken, m'lady.  Ironically, participating in a video challenge will not make me want to find the real you - but if you don't participate, I will become a blood hound, hunt down your chicken ass and call you in the middle of the night making bok-bok noises.

My jaw has blown out yet again (minds out of the gutter, ladies, I have TMJ - apparently I am delightful when awake and horribly angry when I sleep, video related threats aside) and I seem to have accidentally thrown out my perfectly good ambien when I was getting rid of old prescriptions.  (Which proves the old adage, messiness is godliness and cleanliness is the devil's playground).

Monday has been quite manly, indeed.  I must have had some sort of car dream during one of my hostile sleeps, because I became convinced this weekend that Towanda the old reliable Honda was on death's door.  She... hiccups.  I'll be sitting at a light and she kind of shakes for a minute before getting her shit back together.

Cut to me, this morning, sans functioning jaw, doing an interpretive dance in front of a large group of manly mechanics to try and explain what she was doing.  After some glazed stares, a lovely man in coveralls won the round of charades and sadly I was without a cookie or even an ambien to reward him.

So me, Towanda, and her new sparky spark plugs are off to try and convince a pharmacist that I am not a drug addict, but a silly insomniac woman who cleans and sleeps in furious spurts.  My charm will be more difficult to get across without the ability to speak, so after many years it seems my modern dance classes will finally come in some practical handy.

Today I kill two birds with one stone.  Today's manly Monday fact will be about my gay husband, Mr. T, and also covers one of my answers to an October writing prompt. Both involve the queen of all things awesome, Diane Fucking Keaton (yes, fucking is her middle name.... scientific fact).

The question is, what is the greatest compliment I ever received.

So I'm not sure if it's the greatest compliment I have ever received, but it was pretty fucking great and infertility related.

A few months ago the gay husband, Mr. T, was sick and so we were watching movies and laying around like walruses.  I had never heard anything about The Family Stone, but it was one of his comfort movies and he was the one that was sick.


Diane Keaton in the movie is.. Diane Keaton.  She's the matriarch, she is pretty funny, very blunt and very mellow.  (Again, Diane Fucking Keaton, ladies and gentleman).

There is one scene where they're having a big family dinner, and a new girlfriend accidentally says something insulting about Diane's deaf and gay son.  While the new girlfriend is stumbling to try to undo it, and the whole family is visibly uncomfortable, Diane's character is quiet for a moment, ignoring everyone else entirely.  She then throws her fork at the insulted son who is looking down, embarrassed, and then says "Hey!  Hey you.  I love you and you are more normal than any asshole sitting at this table".

We're watching this, and Mr. T turns to me and says, "I wanted you to watch this because this is exactly the kind of Mom I imagine you're going to be".

In the moment I don't make a big deal of it (I probably give him my signature compliment response, a tidy little boob shimmy), and I don't even know if he remembers saying such a thing in his drug-fueled sickly state... but rare is the moment where someone of their own accord turns to someone like me and makes a statement like that.  Having someone tell me specifically what kind of Mom I would be was magical, because I have a hard time imagining it myself sometimes. Not to mention in this instance he was comparing me to an awesome Mom, a Diane Keaton Mom.

When all this infertility nonsense makes me cold, I pull that gem out of the back of my head and it warms me right back up again.

And honestly, ladies, I have very little usable advice in the how-to-handle-infertility department (other than to laugh as much as possible, and to buy cheap panties after someone utters the dreaded words 'progesterone suppositories').  My one rare gem-o-the-day is that if at all possible, you should run out and get yourself a gay husband in addition to your straight one, because they can be disarmingly wonderful and absolutely invaluable, even to a cold-hearted name caller (chicken!  yes you - the one underestimating her bravery) like me.

Oh, and get the panties for $5 a pack at target - get the gay husband someplace where they charge you $50 for one pair of brightly colored boy panties. They are very different shopping trips.

Saturday, October 13, 2012

Video Challenge

Happy Saturday, lovelies!

Had me an idea about requesting a vlog out of people!  Lemme know what ya think, miss Jenn.

Okay, so for those of you under a rock, Jenn has an October writing challenge which I'm about to catch up with. On day four, the challenge was a video post where you answered some questions, read a few words out so we could all hear you.  At first I was chicken, but I finally did it, damnit.

Soooo much fun seeing the videos of people who participated.  Why?  Because it fills in the picture I have going of you in my head, throws in a voice and boom... you're like, a real person.

So I was thinking we should do this again.  A video challenge.

If you want to face the camera, good on ya you warrior woman, I''m gonna.  If you're not into talking into the camera, you can put it on your toes (mmmm, toes) or one of your goofy animals, and just talk - voices are excellent.  If you're response to all of these options is 'no freaking way' I beg of you to think about it... It's collectively dipping a teeny tiny toe outside the infertility closet, and it's totally cool if you just post your video for that day only and then take it down.

Let's say, video day is Monday, October 22nd (unless there are objections here).  On that day, all participants post a video of themselves answering some questions.

Aha!  But what would the questions be?

This is what I'm thinking.

First, we figure out who the hell is going to participate. (If you want to, leave me a comment and you shall be added).

In the middle of this week, I'll put up a post with a list of all those participating.. and the comment section can be a question free-for-all.

You can ask questions you'd like everyone to answer.  You can also ask questions of a specific blogger, if you'd like. Then all questions will be answered via video on our special out of the closet day.

Questions can be infertility related or totally unrelated.  The only thing I'd say is off-limits is 'give me your full name, social security number and credit card information'.  That would be a faux pas.

So, for example, when it's time to ask questions, I might ask -

What's your least favorite thing a fertile has said to you?  Out of Steve Martin, Chevy Chase and Martin Short (aka the cast of the three amigos) who would you fuck, who would you marry, who would you kill?

Specific blogger:
Emhart - explain why you enjoy musicals.

So to re-cap how this is going to go:

  1. Video day is Monday, October 22nd.  Post your video forever or for a day, your face or just your voice.
  2. If you want to participate, let me know in the comment section of this post.
  3. Middle of this week, I'll make a post with a list of participants.
  4. On that post, leave a question you'd like everybody to answer, and/or a specific blogger on the list.
  5. If you're participating, check back on that post on Sunday or Monday, look at the questions, answer on video.

Ta-da! Video challenge extended from Stork.  I triple dog dare you.

And now to catch up on the aforementioned writing challenge -

If given the choice, how would you choose to die?
Okay so obviously in my sleep peacefully at a ripe old age, preferably with Bubba a-la-notebook.  I'm going to assume that's off the table.

Second choice.. let's see.

Put to death in prison because that seems like a pretty sweet peaceful drug-induced way to go, if you have to go young.  I don't want to do anything bad so.. let's say I killed someone everyone hates.

Let's say Hitler is alive and well in prison, and nobody knows how to kill him.  They've tried.  I figured it out, and did it.  Sadly the jury's hands are tied, and I have to be put to death.  People outside the prison are protesting.  There are monuments being made of giant, googly eyed storks.  I give a lovely, forever-quoted speech on  my little gurney and am simply, quietly put to sleep.

What is your biggest fear?
Hmmm... being childless, obviously.  Also being some random victim of a terribly violent crime.  My most irrational one is fire though - half convinced I was burnt at the stake in a past life.

If you could change one thing about your personal appearance, what would it be and why?
I would have a flat, flat, flat tummy.  And slightly smaller eyes.  Both are a smidge too big in reality.

If you could change one thing about your personality, what would it be and why?
I suppose I would feel brave and confident in any and all situations.  I'm not particularly chicken, but the worst feeling in the world is being unsure of yourself - I'd like to wipe it out entirely.

What is the one thing you like best about yourself?
Hmm.. I think that I'm quick-witted.  It's pretty useful.  If someone's going to like me, they're going to like me pretty quick.  If someone's not going to like me, it's pretty quick - and what makes that awesome is that it instantly reveals if a person is totally humorless.  I'm an excellent humor and bullshit detector.

Again, I triple dog dare you to participate in this.  Let's have a day out of that infertility closet, shall we?  It's quite cramped and G-d knows we're all crampy enough as it is.

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Darkness and Light

It's raining, bitches, it's raining!

Oh my G-d... This is such a big moment for me.  There are so many people I'd like to thank.

I'd like to thank my husband, for putting up with my whining and restraining himself to only the occasional eye roll.

I'd like to thank my air conditioning for sticking with a chubby girl with an attitude problem, and for responding to my flicking it's face when it didn't serve me fast enough.

I'd like to thank Zeus for finally paying attention to the rain dances in my backyard, and my neighbors for not calling the cops when I started performing them nude.

I'd like to acknowledge the other brilliant weather systems in my category - snow, you may not have won since the 50s but I have faith in you.  Earthquakes, even when my husband has doubted you and therefor eaten all the chef-boyardees out of our earthquake kit, I believed.  Sunshine.. you're a spotlight hogging little bitch and I think we can all say we've had enough.

My dark-hearted rainy soul is so happy.


I signed in with thoughts of mentioning this, and wouldn't you know it - Jen over here was thinking the same thing.

On the sad, growing-like-a-tumor list of things I used to enjoy but now do not (or at least enjoy less) because of infertility, we can add "Modern Family".

I love Modern Family.  Honestly if you're one of those people that knows it gets a lot of attention but has yet to watch it - do yourself a favor and get the first season on netflix or something.  It is genuinely funny, and I'm a funny snob.

Oddly enough, the only couple on television that really reminds me of Bub & I is the lovely gay couple on Modern Family, Cam and Mitchell (me being the crazy Cam, and Bub being Mitchell, equally crazy but on a more even keel).

But sadly - spoiler alert - on last season's finale, one of the characters got accidentally knocked up, and so this will be a season full of pregnancy hijinks.

::Le sigh::

I love this show so much that thus far sticking with it.. Although honestly, after watching last night I turned to Bub afterwards and said "I dunno if I can watch this anymore... fuck."

Not to mention last night, one of the couple's was contemplating a vasectomy, and mentioned in a hush-hush tone their neighbors who weren't able to have kids (the joke being 'and we are so jealous').

But seriously... is there no safe television show anymore?  I'm starting to feel like a member of some seriously under-represented group that is just never going to see ourselves on television.  Like albinos.  Or road kill photographers.  Or people who hate ice cream.

Which is totally fucking bonkers because statistically... we're all over the place.  Not including us is more akin to when television used to pretend (and still sometimes does) that black people don't exist.  Or when movies used to pretend (and still sometimes do) that gay people don't exist.  We're here, we're infertile, get used to it.

And I would like to state very clearly for the record, that I don't think including someone going through infertility somewhere on television has to be depressing.  As you may have gathered simply from my blog, from my point of view a lot of what we go through is totally ludicrous, and often hilarious.  Just because something has the element of sadness in it doesn't mean it has to be an endless bummer.

For example, if someone told me to add someone in their 80s to a script, my mind wouldn't automatically go "oh, well, now I have to write someone who has dementia and is slowly but surely approaching death".  Shit, The Big C is a hilarious show that is constructed entirely around a woman who has cancer.

As a writer, reader, tv-watcher, movie-lover - I'm sick to death of writing choices that involve lumping sad things with sad things and happy things with happy things, and ne'er the two shall meet.

I will argue to the death that the most interesting movies/tv shows, shit the most interesting anything, are the ones that make light of dark.

So many examples, but to keep this from turning into a novel, I give you my all time favorite movie, American Beauty.

(I don't know if I have ever mentioned this before, but Alan Ball - who Bub got me in a room with once and I almost died a Beatlemania like death - is my screenwriting hero).

There's a movie that asserts in the first few minutes that the main character is going to die.  There's an affair, a kid that's being abused by his parents, love lost between a married couple, and death.  If you'd never seen it before and I gave you that description, you'd probably think this is a horribly depressing movie that I love.

It's not.

It's the perfect mix of darkness and light (perfect, I tell you).  There's no dancing around the dark and pretending it doesn't exist, and there's no wallowing in it with no humor until your fingers are all pruney.  It's accepting that darkness exists, and finding the light in it.

So why, oh why, can't there be anything on TV or in film that does this for us?

Whenever we're mentioned, it's in passing - or it's considered such a touchy subject that they flit past it so quickly that it's ludicrous.

The examples I can think of off hand are both in "Friends" (which I love - could seriously quote you every episode).
  1. Monica and Chandler think they're fertile.  They both get one test, on the same day, have a 30 second conversation with their doctor finding out they both have problems.  They hug, apologize to one another, and within a few days (no discussion of treatment) immediately go to adoption.
  2. This is sillier - but Phoebe is a surrogate for her brother.  Without any drugs or what not, she gets IVF, goes home the same day, takes a positive pregnancy test a few hours later.  (My brain hurts).

I've only ever seen one thing - just one - where it had to do with infertility, I watched it and went "yesss... this is so dead on".

It's movie starring Mr. Gene Wilder called "Funny About Love".  It's a good movie - they should require you to view it before they hand you your first round of Clomid pills. Seriously - get ahold of it.  It sprinkles in funny (it's Gene Wilder, after all) but it's pretty dead on.

Other than that - where the fuck is our movie?  Our television show?

Someone needs to break down the wall and freaking acknowledge us because it's getting goofy.  (And yes indeed, if I can figure out some brilliant plot I'm going to take a crack at it).

There is absolutely no surviving this life with any joy in it if you don't acknowledge the dark and the light.  There is absolutely no surviving infertility without accepting the dark and searching like hell to find the light in it.  There is absolutely no art, film, literature, that is truly brilliant without both elements.  There is no life that is brilliant without both elements.  Therefor, there is no artistic representation of life that is any good or worth a hill of beans without both in it.

There is a ton of silly within horrible, and I am sick to death of waiting for someone to try to tackle us in art.  Any art that lasts is when an artist tries to tackle the difficult - otherwise museums would be full of velvet paintings of puppies, and television would be nothing but orange-tinged New Jersey women getting drunk and getting in fights (instead of just... mostly).

I'm going to try to get inspired, here.  I am.

I'm curious, my little kumquats - what have you watched that you thought 'got it'?  What were the most laughable attempts?

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Big Bird: Charming Puppet, or Marxist?

Happy Tuesday, my little baked treats!

I spent the morning at my regular ObGyn's - who I haven't seen in ages.  He is on Rodeo drive in Beverly Hills - read: uber fancy.  This provides many moments of hilarity during each appointment - today, a woman wearing high heeled sneakers (yup) boarded the elevator, which I was in the back of, did not look up from her phone and asked me to press the floor button she was right next to.  (Apparently, Stork gives off an air of elevator-man, even without my top hat and tail coats).  I also have to suffer the indignity of having a man valet park my 10,000 year old car full of trash (seriously - my house is clean, but my car is like the saddest episode of Hoarders, ever) and then charge me $16 (!!!!), which I'm assuming will at least cover the shots he'll have to get as a result of the experience.

I do bust out my engagement ring for the occasion only because without it, by comparison to these women, I look like I wandered out of the dumpster downstairs because I heard there was an office where men in lab coats would grope me.

I went in because I've been having off and on mild pain in one of my boobs (in, around, under). He told me I'm one of his favorite patients because I make him giggle (it's my defense mechanism, makes things less awkward - even though it's disconcerting to have a man laugh in the face of your vagina).  He poked my boobs and said there was nothing that suggested anything was wrong (proud of myself because I didn't google this - google is basically typing in any symptom under the sun and waiting for the word CANCER to pop up dripping blood).  So off to get a sonogram I go in a few days - I probably pulled a muscle.

(Anyone remember "Unbreakable"?  Apparently I'm like Samuel L. Jackson's character where my entire body is just made of glass.  Though I do have slightly better hair keep in mind I can do the bug-eye Jackson stare with the best of them).

I do not wish to discuss this today, however.  Today, I wish to discuss Big Bird.

I am done with this election. Done.  My feelings for 'undecided voters' as of this point in time can be summed up in an SNL skit, with a series of undecided voters looking into the camera and asking such earnest, unanswered questions as "when is this election?"  "Can women vote?" "How long is a presidential term?  If it's for life I'm not comfortable with that."

As I have mentioned on this blog before, I am one of those evil bleeding heart California liberals.

Before you disown me and join the valet man in getting shots to hopefully undo your exposure, a few things to hopefully keep you digging me:
  1. I am open minded on all issues other than the gays (because it's so silly I can't even believe we have to have a discussion) and lurve me some republicans.
  2. My Mom's an independent, my Dad was a republican (but an agnostic, fiscal republican - he did switch sides the last election he was around for) and my sister's a socialist.  No, but like, a real one. I dig me some variety.
  3. I think John McCain, for example, is an amazing, good man.  Had it been another year and had he not  tapped Palin (honestly I would've been less offended if they just had a picture of a vagina run for VP to try to get my vote) I may have voted for him.
  4. I dig me the fiscally responsible side of the republican party.  When it's about differences in money, I get it.
  5. I fully embrace and support the idea that people are allowed to dislike this President, G-d knows I wasn't a fan of President Bush.  More power to you, express yourself.  It's when it's thinly veiled racism that it gets me - and you know what?  Had I ever met President Bush in person, I would have called him President Bush and shown him some respect because despite differences, he was the fucking President of the United States.
So this whole big bird thing is silly.

If I let myself get completely paranoid and irrational, my fear becomes that Mitt Romney wants to chop up big bird into little pieces, serve him in sandwich form at Chik-Fil-A to fuel up the men who will inevitably storm up my driveway with torches and battering rams, prepared to go into my uterus and verify that it's full of Jesus and Patriotism.

I can usually talk myself down from this.


I get that some things have to be cut from our budget and that the froo-froo unnecessary are the first to be looked at, never mind that getting rid of any funding for Sesame Street would crack such a tiny dent in it that you'd have to invent a whole new type of microscope to get a look at it.

Froo-froo has to be looked at.  And I love the froo-froo, but obviously it has to be looked at.

I just happen to be a woman who's psychotically attached to muppets to begin with, not to mention things that benefit children.  So, yes, I would much rather see other froo-froo being cut, and a giant chunk of the less froo-froo.  I imagine should PBS ever be in crisis-crisis I will be calling you during your dinner hours on their behalf begging you for money.

But I get that this is just one woman's opinion.  What really bothers me, and I think should bother a lot of people, are the articles/op-eds/horrible comments (seriously comments on news articles should be banned - learn to spell socialist!) around the internet where people far to the other side are talking about things like Sesame Street, or the Muppet Movie when it came out, like they are liberal breeding grounds that must be shut down because of that.

You know, the Muppet movie villain was an oil tycoon.  Sesame Street teaches things like sharing (without even pointing out that sharing is a downward spiral to a culture of dependency!)

Seriously, internet?

I get that when I watch MSNBC I'm watching a station that leans to the left, much like I hope people get when they're watching Fox News they are watching something that leans to the right.

Most of the U.S. national/international media primarily resides in NYC & L.A., which are both left-leaning cities, so I get that a lot of media seems left-leaning.  (If the biggest hive of media was located in Alabama, I'm sure it would lean in another direction).

There are a lot of media outlets people accuse of being liberal propaganda where I totally disagree - I mean, believe me, there are things on some of these 'liberal' channels and in these 'liberal' publications that piss this lefty off.

But.. Sesame Street?  Muppets?

When did sharing in the simplest form (as in, if you have two cookies and your friend has no cookies and is hungry, do you give them a cookie) become a liberal ideal?  When did helping someone out, rooting for the underdog, become propaganda?

Because I'm fairly certain everyone reading these words right now was taught those values when they were little - just like I'm fairly certain there are people reading these words right now who still have these values and are not liberal.

So from my most rational, open-minded self, cut the Bird because you think it's going to help this country financially.  But please oh please, liberal or conservative, stop implying that kindness, sharing and helping are strictly liberal values/propaganda.  Particularly when it's coming out of the mouth of a puppet to a child.

Most unfortunately, people are going to raise their kids to hate everything that is associated with liberals... So I think lumping kindness, sharing, etc. into a strictly 'us' trait is super dangerous.  I would not teach my kids that being fiscally responsible is a conservative-only trait, and just to stick it to them they should spend, spend, spend their money like tomorrow the apocalypse is imminent.  (Stick it to those liberal kids and never share anything!  Stick it to those conservative kids and work yourself into debt!)

And from my left, tree-hugging heart... please oh please leave Sesame Street alone.  It does not need to be a political tool and I don't think our financial woes will be solved if it starts getting sponsored by Charmin' ultra soft.

These are not the puppets on TV we need to be worried about.

Oh, and even if you disagree with me, please don't yell too harshly should I accidentally call you during dinner time on behalf of PBS.  Give me a chance - I'm charming, my gynecologist says so.

Monday, October 8, 2012

Satan's School for Girls

Me no likey the Mondays.

Today, in America, it is apparently Columbus day.  What a bullshit holiday.  Columbus discovered America much in the same way that me going to my local grocery store, demanding all their produce and profits in exchange for giving them all syphilis would be me discovering Ralphs.

Much more important today is my darling, wonderful Grandpa's birthday, who is about as old as Columbus. Bub and I will be traveling this weekend yet again to the often frightening O.C. to make steak and shovel it into his ancient body.  I love my Grandparents.  My Grandma calls my grandpa 'viejo' (which means old man) and they have been married for 68 (I think) years.  They are hilarious.

In fertility news, we had our appointment Friday... A brief summary of my woes, because it's hard to keep everyone's utes organized in our minds - IVF in June, mysteriously poor fertilization (1 out of 12 fertilized) chemical pregnancy.

So Dr. Kickass pulled some strings and got another Doc elsewhere to give Bub's sperm a fancy-shmancy test for free (for freeeee!) so that turned out fine.  Now onto the super duper fancy shmancy experimental test which they do in Massachusetts.  (I won't bore you with what all it means today - if you're interested, google calcium ionophore). At any rate, the test is so fancy shmancy that they can't even prepare a sample here and ship it out, so we're now trying to organize flying Bub out there.

(As I said before, I would've liked to have thought that Bub's sperm would've traveled by air or by tiny canoe, but alas, they need the whole Bub).

So IVF coordinator nurse lady told me to take a pregnancy test yesterday 'just in case' (obviously her stand-up comedy routine needs work) and if it was negative (if!  hilarious) to start some provera today because I haven't had my period since August.  ::le sigh::

Dr. Kickass did say that 50% of couples who have inexplicably poor fertilization one time, come back the next and they're fine.  So regardless of how fancy shmancy test goes, we're looking at January or February.

Which will give me sometime to get rid of some bad habits I have re-acquired as part of my ill-advised  'do anything short of heroin to deal with this with a smile' program I've been on since June.  (Which has involved gaining 7 lbs, getting back together with regular Pepsi, and shame of all shame, smoking the occasional cigarette... whatever, mine are full of vitamins and minerals).

Writing prompts:

If you could have any job in the whole wide world regardless of your qualifications, what would you choose and why?
Hmm.. I dunno... Working admissions at Satan's school for girls?

Me thinks I would do pretty much a combo of what I'm attempting to do now.. Writing screenplays (but you know, a reality wherin I make wild amounts of money and am constantly inspired).  Comedy of some kind.  And more acting.  I looooove acting, I do. I've been an all around thespian-nerd pretty much since birth.  This would of course require me to be about 90 lbs and much more comfortable in front of the camera, but there you have it.

If you could sleep with any celebrity who would it be?
Ladies, you know I have strong opinions about this.

River Phoenix is my forever love, the perfect specimen of man-beauty.

Bill Murray, because if he were to read from the dictionary he would do it in a way that would make me tinkle myself with glee.

And - because I can't believe I forgot to mention him before - Timothy Olyphant.  Now there's a face that could get a girl into trouble - he is definitely on my top 5 (even though I forgot him previously).  Pretty sure my husband hates him because I can go on about the Olyphant (particularly a-la crazy drug dealer from Go) which is ironic because he sort of looks like him.

And now, for Manly-Monday, a non-sperm Bubba Fact.

Someone somewhere in L.A. has finally made a deal with the devil because finally, finally we are on the cusp of some fall-esque weather.  So Bub & I are now at the point where we're still sleeping with just sheets at night, and approaching being cold - but unable to commit to pulling the official blanket out of the linen closet for fear that the moment we do the weather will go back to the hellfire it's been for the last several months.

So last night I brought one of our small throw blankets to bed.  In the middle of the night, I wake up with teeth chattering, no blanket nor furry dog to comfort me, and am convinced the furry man next to me is enjoying the blanket solo.  So I half-asleep reach over and start trying to find a bit of the blanket with my hand, in Bub's lap region.

As I'm trying to find it, Bub, in his sleep feels my hand searching around his lap and yells out a loud "NUH-UH!"

I am absolutely shocked that my laughing - which I could not control for a good 3 minutes - did not wake him up.

Apparently, still-sleeping subconscious Bubba thinks that I am some sort of horndog housewife who at 3 AM turns into an insatiable middle-of-the-night lap rapist.

Settle down dude.. Just wanted a blanket.