shame on Tennessee

Shame on the Tennessee Department of Revenue, Taxpayer and Vehicle Services for denying their citizen, Ms. Whitney Calk's personalized license request because they jumped to the conclusion that she intended something "vulgar."

Leave it to a red state, pork barbecue eating, bible belt bureaucrat to miss the wholesome, health promoting, true intent of a vegetarian enthusiast.

Redeem yourself, Tennessee. Get your collective minds out of the gutter. Reach into the depths of your government issued desk drawers and find the rubber stamp that says

and give Ms. Calk the freedom of expression our American forefathers intended. Just like you did for this upstanding Tennessee citizen:

high college tution: does it pay?

We've got three teens in the house. We are staring down the barrell of a financial shotgun called college tuition.

A few weeks ago we were stunned to learn from a friend whose high school senior got accepted into UC Berkley for the fall that the annual cost of tuition, room, board, books, etc. would be $50K. No financial aid packages available. California would prefer to take a check in full from it's out of state students.

Blew my mind. I knew the Ivy schools would run that high. Didn't expect this from a state university, albeit out of state.

Compare $50K a year to our close-by state university about 30 minutes down the road: less than $20K. Begs this question, does a college diploma that costs $120K more pay off? Even more than that if you add in the interest on student loans. And most kids these days do get loans.

But really, does a kid who graduates from a nationally recognized school experience better financial success?

Something of an answer was in our local paper today. A study by economists Dale & Krueger found that,

"Once you control for aptitude, career earnings don't vary based on the college attended: if you are smart enough to get into a brand-name private university, you'll do just fine going to a state college. What will determine your success will be your aptitude and your work ethic, not the name on your diploma."

So kids? I'd much rather have a $20K t-shirt. No, really.

You can read more on financial lessons for high school grads, here.

motor ann, what's your price for flight?

I heard the song Sister Christian yesterday. By Night Ranger. It's a great song with a catchy tune, but the lyrics. WTF? If your memory sucks like mine, you might need to hit the play button on the video before you remember what song I'm even talking about.

For years and years I've been singing along to this song only to stop at the refrain and think ... what the flip is he saying? Motor head? Motor end? Put your motor in? Or a woman's name? Motor-Ann? Modo-enne?

Thanks to the powerful internets, I was able to google and finally find the answer. Isn't that one of the best forms of mental relief? The just out of reach memory itch that finally gets scratched?

Another one is Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb. My husband laughs at me every time the song comes on because with this song I was confident I knew the lyrics. Not a doubt in my mind. It wasn't until Sam set me straight that I realized I'd been wrong all these years. And I'm embarrassed to say it was only a couple years ago.

Here are the true lyrics:

Now I've got that feeling once again

I can't explain, you would not understand

This is not how I am

I have become comfortably numb

And here is what I was sure they were singing:

After come, comfortably numb

Yes, as a teenager this is what I assumed. And didn't bat an eye, either. Depraved adolescence much?

Here's the tune if you want to listen for yourself.

But the burning question is this: Was I the only one who thought Pink Floyd was come-fortably numb?

How about you, reader? What song lyrics do you remember bungling?

e-bayte my ass

You know when you have been watching an ebatty item for several days and you wait until the last few seconds to bid, I believe this is called sniping, and then you see that you are currently the winner with barely 3 seconds left?

Your heart is all pounding and you feel all triumphant because the item you won at $54 is actually worth $179? And you have $20 left in the bid kitty? You know that feeling?

But then you refresh the page and see that no, at the very last millisecond, some sneaky, snarky, sniper came in and stole won with $1 more than your top bid? You know that feeling?

So then you content yourself on some primordial level of pettiness with the malicious satisfaction that at least the thief sniper had to fork over an extra twenty bucks at the last second? What is that feeling called?

Schnipenfreude?

doc spelled backwards is cod not god

We really like our family doc. He's willing to offer homeopathic suggestions, for one. He's down to earth and friendly, for two., i.e., his ego is not the size of the heavenly firmaments.

So we've been going to our family doc for ten years now. A couple years ago he moved into a brand new building, a condomininum setup, so he now owns his office. Or the bank does. Within his office suite he has established a lab testing unit.

So my husband, Sam, takes an Rx that requires regular lab tests. Over the years, he's been going to one of those large, chain labs. No cost with his insurance card. Lab sends in results to the doc. Doc checks and notifies if there is a problem. All part of the regular check up.

Until recently.

Family doc's office staff instructed Sam to get his blood work done in the on site lab. Requires that Sam set an appointment, return to get blood drawn. Sam gets there, his weight and BP are taken (even though he was just there a few days ago), gets his blood drawn, does not see a physician, but is charged a copay for a "short office visit." In Sam's case, $35 copay. Ouch.

Sam protested to the office staff and the doc came out. Sam told him "I want to go to my usual lab." Doc insisted he get the lab work done on site.

Does this ring of a conflict of interest to anyone besides me? Might this be an ethical violation? We think he's funding his new office. Or has this "short office visit" become prevalent out there in family practice medicine?

trouble on american idol

This week, two of my favoriteist American Idol contestants sang two of my awesomely favoriteist songs.

Alex (Not-to-be-confused-with-Adam) Lambert, the cutest boy in a blonde mullet EVER, sang Ray LaMontagne's "Trouble." You can see and hear Alex here. He's got this amazing raspy voice with incredible tone.

Lilly Scott, the cutest girl in a blonde mopsy-top, sang Patsy Cline's "I Fall to Pieces." You can see and hear Lilly here. And if you want to hear a more soulful song, Lilly's version of Sam Cooke's, A Change is Gonna Come, can be heard here. Either way, you can't help but fall in love with her unique sound.

But tonight, American voting fans gave these same two contestants the giant Idol finger pointing them off the stage. WTF, Idol viewers? Do I need to whip out my wireless phone and slip out of my Idol voting apathy?

One consolation, Alex lambert is from the DFW area, which I hope means he'll find his way to the Austin music scene one day.

Second consolation, American Idol will no longer be a factor in my evening exercise sabotage. But don't worry, I've got plenty more where those came from.

Like, for instance, if Crystal Bowersox makes it to the Top Ten, in which case I might have to sacrifice my get-skinny-quick-scheme for yet another ten weeks.

Now, if all that isn't enough trouble for you, check out Ray LaMontagne's original version.

vent-a-thong

Aaryn Belfer can rant like no other. And today's post was no exception with her 12 things she's really friggin sick and tired of. To include liars (yeah you, Rudy and Dana) and overly vain, surgically addicted fame-seekers (Heidi).

Me? I'd like to add my humble #13. Or make that #12, as I don't have a grudge against those cute, cuddly Pandas.

So here we go. Here's what I'm really friggin sick and tired of: so-called independent and swing voters who decide elections.

Because I have to ask: Who are you people, really?

That one year you can vote for the Bushie gang and the next election year Obama and now this year Scott "I posed naked for Cosmo" Brown?

I mean really, Massachusetts? You lose The Lion and you replace him with Beefcake Boy because he drives a fancy four door GMC Canyon pick up truck? I know this kind of down-home-boy fakery works in Texas elections, but you too?

And why is it that posing nude tends to work against women running for Miss America but works for men running for the U.S. Senate? WTF is that about?

I really do believe wonder if some people register as Independent so they can be the darling of the politico media. As in, I don't get enough attention in my real life so I'll call myself an Independent so exit pollsters will put a microphone and camera in front of my face so I can toyingly make them guess who I voted for.

This is not a game, people.

Did you not see what 8 years of Republicanisms did to America? To the stock market? To the banking industry? To people's homes? Jobs? Lives?

I guess you Massachusians are about as hard headed as your state is hard to spell.

You say you want to send a message to Democrats that you don't like how they're running things. Really?

Lesson 1. Brown's seat certainly means more Congressional stagnation, not less.

Lesson 2. Years of Republican regulation-ease led to financial near-collapse. Or have you forgotten already? I haven't. My husband lost a great deal of income. Our finances still have not recovered. And I am working longer hours to keep us afloat. I am not able to be the available mom that I was before Bush-face and Dick Vader took my country hostage.

Lesson 3. Recent economic indicators, thanks to Dem-lead initiatives, suggest we just might be out of the most troubled waters. I'd say the Dems are doing a pretty damned good job.

Lesson 4. A good thirty years we've endured a steady stream of steep health insurance premium increases and other assaults on our health care. Experts predict more of the same if we don't do something drastically different. But Republican leadership can only come up with tax-cuts and more tax-cuts and filibusters and no-votes and tort reform as supposed solutions.

Lesson 5. I got news for you tort-touters. I live in a state that passed tort-reform. My premiums have not come down at all. They continue to rise several hundred dollars every year. Some years, like this one, more than $1000. You can read more about how tort-reform "did not translate into lower health insurance premiums for consumers" here.

I can only hope Scott Brown makes good on his campaign promises cough! choke! snort! That he votes in the U.S. Senate like he voted in the Mass. State Senate. A moderate who worked with the Dems.

But it's hard to imagine the current Republican party letting Brown get away with anything short of the right wing red meat spewed out by the likes of Limpballs and Annthrax Coulter.

So we shall see, Mass-a-chew-on-this. We shall see.

hot tub etiquette at a large downtown gym

Old man with the rotund physique, I don't know where you came from or how you were raised, but proper jacuzzi etiquette does not include:

1. ignoring the stair step entrance;

2. lollying your full body onto the ledge, laying your head nearly directly behind mine so that you appear to intend to roll on top of me, swinging your legs down into the water, missing me only because I have lightning quick reflexes;

3. continuing to sit on the ledge about six inches from my spot, despite an otherwise empty jacuzzi, arms crossed and resting on your buddha belly, head tilted down, eyes closed, as if in deep slumber, remaining thusly situated for the next twenty minutes.

WTF, old man?!? I came here to relax too, ya know.

H1N1, Anyone?

Sunday night. Started feeling bad, like a fever was coming on. Took my temperature. Not because I thought I had Swine Flu Mexican Flu H1N1, but because I had a tennis match in the morning and wanted to call my teammates, if need be, and find a sub. But no temperature.

Monday morning. Wake with a sore throat. Lymph nodes feel swollen. Still no fever. Play tennis, only to get rained out, silently cursing the powers that be who ignored the meteriorologist's 60% chance of thunderstorm and tornado warnings.

On the way home, get the heroic idea of stopping by the grocery. Full throttle rain now. Get nearly soaked as I make my way across the giant parking lot. In my tennis skirt I shop, crocs and soggy socks, wet head, chilled by the air conditioning. (In cenral Texas, no matter what the weather, the air conditioning is on to near freezing. It was no different on this rainy Monday.) Load my rain soaked groceries into trunk. Proceed home to feel still worse. Take an allergy pill.

Tuesday morning. Still feeling bad. Take temperature again.

Brief aside: Getting ones hands on a thermometer, in my house, is no small feat. Not unlike wrestling The Ring from the hands of Gollum. My husband being Gollum, tired of tracking down the thermometer because "Nobody puts it back where it belongs!" "Nobody" meaning me. Gollum keeps it hidden in the high cliffs of his cave-closet. Each time I must climb those cliffs and snatch Gollum's preciousssssss.

But again, no temperature. Now assume a sinus infection is brewing and am not contagious. Fortunately, and uncharacteristically, a light day is scheduled at the office.

Wednesday morning. Still feeling bad. Full day scheduled, including evening appointments. Take a decongestant, an ibuprofen, and an allergy pill. By the time my 3rd-from-last client arrives, full symptom onset: head hurts, stuffy nose, watery eyes, coughing, and sucking down one throat lozenge after another.

Call to husband Gollum. Tells me the local news said mold spores are super high. Am allergic to mold spores. So here is my answer.

Wednesday night. Make mistake of opening email written by a Texas physician, forwarded to me by a friend who is a school administrator. The M.D. warns that he is hearing "privately" from the "CDC" and "Health Department" that this strain of flu is worse than "the media" is letting on. I won't go into the email's dire details, of which Gollum is ultra-cynical because of the homeopathic remedies suggested at the end of the email.

My eyes lock on the line which says this flu produces "a distinctive 'hoarseness'" in its "victims."

Attempt to clear throat and speak. Believe my voice has gotten distinctively "hoarse."

Mind races. Think back on relatively quiet weekend. Was I exposed to anyone who might have been carrying the flu?

Remember that Gollum and I went to a small Mexican restaurant for dinner on Saturday night. The wait staff were speaking Spanish.

Gollum now insists they were "Mexican Nationals" because of the familliar way they "pull their hair back in a tight pony tail" and "wear their shirts really, really tight across their stomaches." (WTF? Where does he get this?) I argue that they looked quite Americanized to me.

Uncertainty festering, I head to bed. Take an allergy pill, an ibuprofen, a decongestant, and two benadryls (to combat the decongestant's incomnia side effects).

Thursday morning. Wake from long night of stuffy nose, scratchy throat. Had strange and frustrating dreams that involved deciphering between deviated septums and non-deviated septums (I am confused, too. This is all I remember.) Get up and decide to cancel appointments for the day. The "hoarseness" in my voice is obvious to my clients. Am grateful for this validation of my need for a sick day.

Thursday afternoon. Here I lie on my sick-sofa, as our country waits on the verge of a flu-pandemic, wondering if I am the first and unknown case of an Anglo-American woman with H1N1 Influenza.

The link provided on the CDC website "Is it a Cold of the Flu" is not working (argh!) so no help there. I won't go to the doctor. I refuse to subject myself to "the look" from the receptionist and "the nod" between LPN and nurse practitioner which says, "another paranoid fool with too much time on her hands who thinks she has the swine flu."

So for now, cool heads will prevail. I am convinced, despite my hoarseness, and every flu symptom listed by the CDC except a fever, that I have a monster sized simple cold.

I will not send Gollum to the drugstore to buy a stash of face masks as recommended by the CDC. I did send him for Ricola throat lozenges, however, hoping he would remember that I like cherry flavor. But no, he brings lemon. I open one and feel as though I am sucking on lemon flavored amonia tablet. I will, however, wash my hands frequently, throw away my used tissues, drink a lot of water, and follow common sense guidelines.

And I will enjoy an unexpected afternoon of blogging.

UPDATE: If anyone wants to check the number of H1N1 flu cases verified by state, check at the CDC website, here.

Bikini Pig Tissue Box can be found, here.

martha's tips for spring queefing

I was blogging last night with the TV turned onto South Park. The volume was muted. I looked up and this is what I saw. I couldn't find the remote so I was left thinking, WTF? Til now.



This SouthPark clip was originally posted here.

So, Martha fans, how are you readying your queef for spring?

impressed?

This mom, not so much.





How about something a little more challenging, say, a few bratwurst, or a can of refrieds? Then I might think about retiring my plunger.

Video first seen at The Daily Dish.

if an unwed mother speaks into a fox microphone, does she make a worthwhile sound?

Twenty years ago we had Murphy Brown: the TV sitcom career woman who elected to be a single mom. In the speech heard round the world, then Vice President Dan Potatoe-head Quayle, accused the career woman of "mocking the importance of a father."

Now, in 2009, we have Bristol Palin: the daughter of vice-presidential wannabe, Sarah Palin.

Bristol doesn't lament being a single mom so much as having started a family too early, without having "a career" or "her own house" and without having completed her education. All valid points.

Ironic side note: Murphy had a career but no baby-daddy. Bristol has a baby-daddy but no career.

Bristol gave an interview recently as a means of furthering her mother's national political aspirations helping "prevent teen pregnancy." In so doing, she talked about how much she loves the baby. How she didn't "regret" having the baby "at all." How she only wished she had "waited ten years."

Waited ten years to .... what? To have sex? To have unprotected sex?

Interestingly, a regret she didn't mention was being unwed. Any moment now, I'm expecting Quayle's modern day equivalent, a self-appointed family values czar to pontificate on such a clear lapse of moral judgement. Or not, because, she is the direct descendant of one who yaks on about values.

But the whys of Bristol's marital status is none of my business. My only concern is her message to teens.

So, for the record, what does she have to say about abstinence?

"Everyone should be abstinent, or whatever, but it's not realistic." Um. Ok. She didn't want to "get into details" of what IS realistic so that's all we get.

And if not abstinence, what options does she advocate?

She advises teens to "wait."

Newsflash for Bristol: Waiting IS abstinence. Abstinence IS waiting. The two are one and the same unless you are joining a convent.

So consider the interview a ploy to get her mother back into the national spotlight a waste of time, or worse, a public service announcement for how satisfying and fulfilling an unplanned pregnancy can be.

I know, I know. Bristol is only a teenager. She is young and naive. She is her mother's daughter untrained in the art of crafting a message.

So spare us the television appearance, the sham cause. Or if a sincere attempt, so poorly executed as to do more harm than good.

Here is this seasoned mother's message to teenagers: Unless you are prepared to have a baby, and believe me, you are not, show us your maturity. Use protection and use contraception. Condoms can be bought at your local pharmacy, grocery, discount or convenience store. Other contraceptive choices can be gotten by attending a Planned Parenthood clinic. You can click here to find the one closest to you.

I would also suggest talking to a trusted adult before you take the big step. But I know that you won't. Hardly anyone does. The decision is so personal and private and usually made in the dark of night.

On a lighter note, I offer an opinion. Most times two heads are better than one. Take helping kids' with homework. My kids go to dad with the math and mom with the social studies. Science is a toss up.

On math night and every other night? I'm awfully glad their dad is here. And so are they.

strung out on black

Berry, that is.

I just got a new barakberry blackberry. I earned it after carrying around a dinosaur of a cell phone for the past few years, waiting patiently for my contract renewal date.

I've been wanting some sort of smart phone ever since I saw Obama with one got my first PDA and realized what a pain it was to keep up with two pieces of tech equipment: charged, updated and on my person. Oh wait, make that three devices, when you count my laptop. Three communication gadgets carried back and forth between home and office. There must be an easier way.

And then there's the butt problem. How does a woman carry a cell phone in her back pocket, a PDA in the other and simultaneously camouflage twenty thirty unwanted pounds of lard ass? Note to Madison Avenue: design women's dress pants with gadget pockets located somewhere besides the derriere and with a bit more style than these:

Back to the crackberry blackberry. Be careful what you wish for because when you get it you won't be able to see the tiny print on the screen, add a phone number, set your speed dial, figure out the bass-ackward keypad, or change the ring tone, even. Be prepared to spend a four day weekend with your eyes squinting at a 2x3 inch screen, shaking it, cursing at it, and realizing your brain has turned to oatmeal.

Yes, I read the manual. Yes, I took the little tutorial. Minimal help. WTF? I have a PhD and a PDA but I can't figure out how to call my own office?

I guess I should swallow my pride and take my know it all tech savvy teenager up on his offer to take over my cell phone teach me. This is why I took such care in the gestating, feeding, caring and protecting of my children, right? So they can one day surpass me and roll their eyes as if to say, "Get out of the way, moron."

But another reason for letting my son do it: Research shows that the teen brain learns so much faster than adult brains, giving them a natural edge at mastering new technology. It explains, for example, how my son's had his laptop less than a year but has already learned more shortcuts than I have picked up in twenty.

And as this video proves, it isn't just me frustrated with the crippled learning curve.
P.S. Pardon the foul language. Or if you're like me, relish it.