The Notes That Music Teaches Might Not Always Be In Scale

My daughter is midway into having final exams and one of her tasks for the English exam was to memorize 23 helping verbs. Now, I am no fan of helping verbs, dangling participles, past or present superlatives, and moderators, but I am a fan of mnemonic devices and the first thing she said to me was "I can't even think of any silly ways to memorize them like I usually do". Yes, she's also a fan of them. So, I did what any red-blooded mother raised in the 60s-70s would do...turned to YouTube.

"YouTube?" you ask..."YouTube wasn't around back then, lady." True, but 'Schoolhouse Rock' was and any self-respecting Saturday morning cartoon watcher growing up when I did can remember at least one ditty from those three minute spots. Who doesn't remember "Conjuction Junction, what's your function?" You don't even have to know the tune to, well, know the tune. And if you know anything about YouTube...if it was ever out there floating around in the airwaves of tv-space, videotape or 8, 16, or 35 mm...you can watch it on YouTube. The only thing they don't have, and I've checked, is that Farrah Fawcett/Joe Namath Noxzema commercial...and my birth. But to give them all due credit, my birth was never immortalized on film...well, that I know. I'm not too sure about the conception...but I don't want to go there.

So, we decided to wax nostalgic and play some 'Schoolhouse Rock' videos. We? Yes, we. Come to find out my daughter, who is 12, has been watching these things in school since the 1st grade. How else would she have been able to blurt out the words "Lolly, Lolly, Lolly get your adverbs here". Heck, even I forgot THAT one.

Interplanet Janet, The Preamble, Interjections, the Boston Tea Party one... we watched quite a few and the list still went on and on...so did the positive comments people posted after. C'mon, these things are thirty years old and kids on YouTube are saying "These are so cool" "I know these are stupid but I got an A on my test because of this". "Schoolhouse Rock ROCKS!"

So, why aren't more of these things being made? Or better yet...reshown on television? If they worked then and they work now...guess what? They work.

Don't even get me started on the taxation without representation segment...which I think is pretty much taken for granted nowadays and has become the norm as product endorsements are seen from movies to award shows to the backs of free copies of text in Japan. It won't be long before the world as we know it will be run by corporate giants who will gladly pay lowly out of work writers badoodles of money for catchy tunes to sell their merchandise and beliefs.

We just have to put our foot down and remember whilst education is a wondrous thing...corporate takeovers and massive conglomerations hiding behind scholarships might not necessarily be. "Injunction Junction what's our function..." well, it's just not the same exact fundamentally innocent "catchy tune", now...is it?

My Birthday

Well, my birthday has come and gone. I opted to stay home and not go out to dinner because I still was in a lot of pain from my operation. My daughter bought and wrapped me some gifts she purchased at Williams-Sonoma...pretty much anything they sell there I'd like...plus I have been known to do the "oooh I like THIS and THIS and THIS" thing a lot whenever I'm shopping with her.

She also was the one who decided getting a candle down from the cupboard, putting it on my Cheesecake Olivia from Outback Steakhouse, and lighting it would be the festive and proper thing to do. I fear no traditional "Happy Birthday" song would have been sung had she not thought of this, and I feel sad about that.

I also feel sad that my son, who is 20, didn't get me a present nor a card. He is old enough to get me something. He's claiming he didn't have enough money to get me something "really nice". I would have been happy with nearly anything.

Also, it seems the players at my interactive comedy website, don't seem to care much at all either. Must be the season to be selfish...I don't know. But free ecards ARE relatively inexpensive.

Anyway, the day is now over...I only managed to drink one Martini and it wasn't a big one at that, but I was in pain. I also do have a few gifts that will be getting here next week so that will be nice.

I also have a blog I started writing in the doctor's office the other day...so something will be posted here - probably tomorrow.

Now far be it from me to ruin a good time, so those of you who would love to send me cards, flowers, money, job offers, and incredibly gorgeous presents, please feel free to do so. There is an address you can send them to via my comedy website...and yes, it is indeed valid. I am sure it's best to err on the side of caution this time and not start holding my breath anytime soon...last year David Blaine got some wild idea in his head because of my antics. Surely no one wants to give him any more ideas. ;)

Point Well Taken

Okay, I've received a few emails from people asking me why I haven't updated in a while...so I have got the point and will try to think of something to write about tonite. Perhaps whilst I'm drinking a Martini out of my new glasses I bought myself for my birthday. Okay, it's a week early...but since I know what I gave myself, it's not like I'm peeking. :)

Anyway...thanks goes out to people who do indeed read this and notice when I'm not posting.

The "Bliss" Leading the "Bliss"

It never ceases to amaze me the way some people can be totally insensitive and ignorant. Case in point - online comments left by people following a news story. Not just any news story...but a tragic news story.

Now I am not stupid, I know these people are typically commenting to get the ire up of other people...but to gleefully post repulsive statements following someone's untimely or horrific death or life-threatening ordeal...I seriously could never fathom doing so. Even if I were a child, sitting around with a group of friends - I really don't think I could bring myself to do it...or if I did, I'd scurry and delete my comments after they left. You see, I was never the person who made fun of other people in school or at the mall - I was the one saying "hey, a person can't really change the way they look, you know". And don't tell me one person can't make a difference...they stopped doing it, at least in my presence.

Why do people feel the need to berate and make fun of another's misfortune? Is this whole online anonymity destroying whatever shred of decency we once had? Why can't people funnel their anger in a more positive venture...why prey on people whose circumstance they themselves [hopefully] wish never to endure in their own lives?

And these people live among us. They are our bosses, our baggers, the guy in front of us at the light, and, yes, perhaps even the lady next to us in church. The guise of anonymity makes people believe they are impervious to the side glances and finger pointing they would normally get out in the open...so to their privacy of their homes they retreat with their cruel thoughts, keyboards and fantasy screen names at the ready.

Keep in mind there are a lot of such comments online - don't believe me, click on one of those horrific news stories and read the comments. I was just now reading some regarding a 14-year-old boy who had been tripped/fell/collapsed while walking down the stairs to claim a Nintendo Wii he won at a hockey game in Providence, Rhode Island. I read similar, but even worse comments, regarding Natalie Holloway the other day. Oh, yes...let's just make fun of the girl who, in most likelihood, was killed in Aruba. I don't know about you, but I can't think of a more productive and pleasant way to pass my time during the Thanksgiving holiday.

How disturbing must it be for family and friends to go online and peruse the comments, thinking people are sending prayers and well wishes their way only to be met with a barrage of verbal brutality? I cannot imagine the thoughts those people experience...why can't people have more empathy for their fellow man and realize words said in anger or jest can have lasting effects. I know all too well how those "names will never hurt you" words do indeed hurt...and they can stick in your head and play all kinds of wicked games in there...for years and years.

So, I will continue to be amazed at the ignorance of others - (and I'm not just talking about their spelling and grammar...don't get me started on that, as that's for another blog) shake my head and wonder just what makes these people tick...and know deep down that it certainly isn't their overly compassionate heart.

Write Away...

Sorry I haven't been doing a "blogumn" (oh read the rest of my 'blogumns' here, you'll find it) here lately - but with my hysterectomy recovery I just have been doing less around the house, here and with my comedy site - but I feel a lot better today than I have in the last few days, even without my hormone patch on. So, I'm going to try to sit here and focus (oh ha ha - like that will happen with my brainfog going on) and get a contest updated and get a blog written.

Wish me luck! :)

Pixar vs Pixart vs Pixaren't

Okay, I just watched "Ratatouille" and I'm probably the only person in the world who feels this way, but...I just didn't like it.

My kids kept asking me at different points throughout the film, "Is this a 'feel-good' movie?" - to which I have to say, "No." It just didn't seem plausible to me. Yes, yes, I know - it's an animated movie, it's not SUPPOSED to be plausible, right? Well, I beg to differ...all the animated movies that I liked tended to have something believable in them, even if they were extremely fantasy-based. This to me was more like a hodgepodge of ideas thrown out around a table while a couple guys were getting drunk. It was, in essence, Pixar's Atlanta Nights if you will. Sure, the animation was top notch...but that just doesn't cut it to me.

Spoilers here...so don't read if you don't want to know more (altho I'm probably the last person to see this film as I always wait until they are out on dvd)...

A rat that can cook...then said rat being able to pull the guy's hair (who also just happens to be the lowest guy on the totem pole in the haute cuisine restaurant) to control his body movements, then him ending up being the guy who inherits the restaurant, then having it closed down due to rat infestation...only to open another restaurant which apparently caters to the "rat-friendly" who don't mind their meals prepared by vermin. Um...I just don't see anything plausible in the film nor anything fantasy-ish enough to make it credible. Each of these Pixar (or Pixarotype) films score high marks for their incredible art technique...but this one lacks what the others that I've seen had going for them: the ability to take you away for an hour and a half to a fun little world.

"Monsters, Inc." was plausible - a little world filled with the dreaded monster in all our inner child's heads...even if you were OLD like me, you'd hearken back memories of what you saw, i.e., imagined was under the bed, in the closet, scratching at the window, etc. Then to find out the monsters were as scared of us as we were of them...well, that was pretty darned brilliant.

"Toy Story" was plausible - a boy whose toys come to life because, well, we all wished our toys did when we were kids...and secretly thought they did when we weren't in the room...kinda like how all pets can talk only they don't let you know because you'd expect them to do subservient things for you then.

"A Bug's Life" was plausible because we really don't know what bugs do - and for all we know their social structures are far more elaborate (at least in their own realm) than we'd ever give them credit for...until you watched this film. And face it, we've all seen those ants who sacrifice their bodies by stringing themselves across water so the others can make it safely to the other side...so just right there it gains some redemption.

"The Incredibles" - oh, who hasn't wondered what a washed up Superman or Batman would do? And who wouldn't like the whole idea of being able to be useful and young again and save the world - plus have nifty superpowers to boot?

See? All of those have a lot going for them from the get-go - they didn't need 14 different angles to attempt to pull it all together, which to me, fails, except for the fact it has kick-ass computer effects.

Now...don't even get me started on the other film we watched the other day that the whole country went ga-ga about which my kids and I kept looking at each other with that "what the....???" look on our faces: "Happy Feet" - yes, that had a lot going for it - dancing penguins...everyone loves dancing penguins...let's just animate a bunch of penguins. Story? We don't need a story...we have cute dancing penguins! Look, I got my fill of dancing penguins in "Mary Poppins"...and the three minutes they were on screen in that - well, it held more plot (and my attention) than the 108 minutes they used up in "Happy Feet". My feet were only too happy to walk over to remove that disc from my player as well.

Unexpected Pleasantries

Well, as luck would have it...or more simplified (or would that be complicated)..."Murphy's Medical Law" my daughter has been sick starting from the time I was in the hospital and is still sick. We found out the other day that her tests for Mono were indeed positive, so that's a relief...at least knowing what it is and that it's not something worse.

She's been out of school for a couple weeks on and off because of it and I haven't been able to drive because of my recent hysterectomy, so my constant trips to stop off at The Fresh Market (for those of you living here in Montgomery) on the corner of Vaughn Road and Eastern Blvd next to TJ Maxx. I love The Fresh Market - or as I call it "Fresh Market". I cook a lot of gourmet meals and their produce/meat selection, and above all, quality, is second to none in Montgomery...it's a wonderful place to shop if you are strictly buying food...and if you want that food to be top notch.

Today my husband went there to get us some things, and I don't know exactly the conversation, but they asked about me (and probably why they haven't seen me and my daughter every day like usual) and he told them about my operation and about my daughter being sick as well.

Then the manager did something extremely kind: he gave a bouquet of yellow roses to me and one of pink carnations to my daughter. (Nice blurry photos below...taking them at night doesn't help the clarity.) That was very sweet and I promptly phoned him up to thank him. You don't usually get that type of human interaction/contact in other stores I am sure. I've always told everyone I love the fact that I know who the meat people are by name, the cashiers by name, the managers by name, etc., and they know me. That's the way it should be...and touches like the flowers are evidence that places like this and caring customer oriented people like them still exist.




Again...thank you Fresh Market for hiring classy people who take the time to get to know their repeat customers and go that extra distance to make us feel special and respected.

Hospitalization - Part II

Sure, major surgery has its inconveniences which are to be expected (I pointed some out in Part 1 of my Hospitalization blogum located below) but what they are really good at is the little things. Little things mean a lot. Little things can be cute, as in kittens...little things can kill you, as in germs...and little things you can take for granted...well, they'll be the ones I'm referring to here. I can only speak on my personal cases of being in the hospital and for this story I'm sticking to things which occurred this time around.

- Bodily fluids and why are they fascinated with them in the hospital? Furthermore why do they have one bathroom for me and not another one for my visitors?? Do they know WHAT lurks IN my personal hospital bathroom? I feel like the consummate bad criminal in any killer movie when they reach to open the bathroom door...

"DON'T open THAT!!!!"
"Well, why? Whatcha hiding in there I can't look at?"
"Uh...nothing."
"Well, if it's nothing, tell me what it is."
"It's nothing I say."
"You aren't telling me the truth, are you?"
"You CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"

Why does the dialogue ever have to progress that far? I'll be honest with everyone here and now why those bathrooms are for the patient and the patient alone. They give you little bowls and containers with demarcation/deliniation lines...and they give them adorable little names...oh, like "hat". "Time to empty your 'hat'" they say. Well, they don't sell these hats in any haberdashery shop I've ever been in, nor at 'Bed Bath and Beyond'...they are WAY beyond what they sell. I think they get them from a guy who knows a guy who comes around in the back of the hospital twice a week...or they probably order them online or eBay.

Word to the wise...hospitalization is a series of private processes, especially for women who don't routinely sit on the sofa snarfing down nachos and guzzling back beer with men playing "pull my finger" games. Now, nothing's wrong with being that type of woman...but I'm not...I am more on the "demure" side of the fence. I don't want anyone to enter places to see things that even the nurses and doctors shouldn't have to see. So, when you reach your hand out to turn my bathroom door knob...let's just say the only way you aren't getting vituperatively scolded a well deserved "NO!" would be if I were in a coma...but if I were in a coma I wouldn't really be using the bathroom so you could probably use it. I believe you get the point here by now...even if that point is moot.

- I am 46...I'd like to be younger but I'm not. I have, to my credit, built up some medical vocabulary where I feel confident enough to speak to doctors and medical staff using and have them use back with me without my having that "huh??" look on my face. This comes from my odd habit of reading the PDR, medical papers, and hanging out at WebMD.com and MayoClinic.com much more than anyone should. But when a doctor says uncommon words, 99 percent of the time I know what they are saying and they don't have to spell everything out for me in plain laymen's vernacular. I find this to be a bonus and I think they appreciate it as well. But one thing eludes me during my stay this time and I will try to explain best I can. Enter one nurse after I rang the bell...the dialogue goes somewhat like this: Her: "What can I do for you?" Me: "Well, I have to be unstrapped from the blood-clot leg cuffs before I can toddle off to the bathroom and this is where you get to come in." Her: "Well, do you have to go 'tee-tee' or something else?" Me: "Ummmm - I only have to urinate." Now, I am not five or 10 even for that matter and I certainly hoped I exuded a little more knowledge than one click above brain-dead...why she called it "tee-tee" is a mystery to me...but I wrote it off as perhaps she normally works on the pediatric ward. And then after a bit of contemplation I figured I would indeed use this whole dialogue bit in a blog...yes, that's the way my mind works.

- For the love of all things sacred...please feed me something that might get my gastric juices flowing. Even Pavlov's dog would have just sat in the corner and licked his...uh...bells wouldn't have sent any salivary glands salivating in any experiments if he had pawned this stuff off as food in those experiments. And speaking of experiments, I think the Nutrition Department were conducting some of their own. During my "soft bland diet" phase, at lunch and dinner "something" which can only be envisioned as that dough blob that pops at full force out of the Poppin' Fresh dough cylinder when you poke the seam with a knife blade. Honestly, THAT is what it looked like and they were determined to get me to eat it and they had days and days to prove that theory.

-- Day one I was tempted to taste it - but I stood my ground as it didn't look like a pudding and it wasn't exactly an ice-cream as it never melted...so I put it in that illustrious food group in which Fruitcake belongs and sent it back. Voila! I'll get something else later for dinner. Or so I thought. There, mysteriously - right top quadrant of the tray...it was back again. Surely it must be a whole different one you are thinking. Au contrare...it looked the same...but instead of being pristinely white this time...it had diminished to "eggshell". Again I held my ground and returned it - surely it can't return again tomorrow I thought. Ha! I won! Well, I shouldn't pat myself on the back so quickly...plus I had an abdominal incision...it kinda hurts to twist like that.

-- Day two I hear voices from Poltergeist II in the back of my mind..."They're ba-aaak" - and sure enough, it was. Again, had I access to those paint colour swatches I could've discerned this one wasn't even "eggshell" anymore, but now was more closely graduating to "ecru". By the time they came to collect it - I made a joke about how it returns but always a shade darker...I think they either didn't get it or they now knew I was wise to them. I was certain it wouldn't make it to my dinner menu.



-- Enter my children who haven't had me at the house for days dealing with my witty banter (oh go along with me - I had major surgery) on a continuing basis...so I had to relay to them the "scary ever-colour-changing blob which shows up at each meal except breakfast" tale. My daughter hatched a plan - "Stab it!" she says. "NOOOOOOOOO!!!" I say..."Didn't you learn ANYTHING from watching those Sci-Fi movies from the 50s? That 'thing' will slide off the plate, slip under the door, kill three people at the nurses' station and then double back and break my window to kill me when my back is turned to it whilst I'm reporting the whole incident to the police on the phone!" It happens EVERY time - best not tempt providence. And, true to form...the colour was indeed a little darker still...and had lost some sheen...it was now fast approaching "faded ivory piano keys" shade. My son was brave, even with my cautionary words of impending doom...he totally annihilated the poor unsuspecting "upper right food tray blob" and alas, it came back no more. I really don't want to think about why it didn't too long so I'll just gloss right over that whole episode. But at the time, it was pretty much my only form of entertainment...so much so we took photos.

Word must have gotten back to the "mother ship" that I was not going to cave in and consume that thing so I believe they decided they had no use for me anymore and when the doctor came in to see me the next day he stated if I ate some "real food" and "participated" in some honest to goodness "pull my finger" jocularity, I could vacate the premises and be on my merry way home. For years I've tried to class up my interactive comedy website by not catering to the lowest common denominator, "fart jokes"...and here it all came back to bite me on the proverbial...um...arse.

So, again, some of the littlest things you take for granted are your ticket out...and this was to be the one time I would proudly proclaim "I did it!.

Hospital Stay...or Should I Go?

I figured, for your reading enjoyment, I would do this installment in two parts (actually, truth be told - I did it so I would be able to split one long story into two...but "your reading enjoyment" sounds much less self-serving) :) ...

Part 1:

By now, if you know me...or at least kept up with my blogumns (I refuse to call them blogs as they are more like short stories or columns), you'll have gathered that I was in the hospital for a few days following what can only be referred to as "a hysterectomy of some necessity". And "yes", to answer that question that everyone asks, "they took my ovaries out as well".

But, to add to the discomfort of the obvious...the hospital has a few tricks up their hospital gown sleeves to get you up and out that door they always manage to not close behind them (even tho it was closed when they came in) to get you out as fast as humanly possible. Sure, people might say they release you too soon...but I'm betting most people jump at that opportunity to return home for just the most "take for granted" reasons that are out there. We are, after all, creatures of comfort and the hospital is hardly packed with creature comforts...staph infections, yes...but those are a whole different creature and I could easily digress, but I won't. I will, however, point some things out one by one that got me thinking about all this...however, this is not a Top Ten list, so they come in no order whatsoever...you be the judge as to which would send you packing fastest.

- Why is that television set ALL the way up there? "So you can see it better when you are lying there, flat on your back, in your bed" you might say. Wrong! First off, no matter how prone you get, it's still too high to watch comfortably. Try again. "Because if they had it lower, people would bonk their heads into it and then sue?" Well, you are getting warmer - people would indeed sue if they hit their heads into it...but they are in the hospital and probably wouldn't be able to sue them "REAL good" because they nearly bled to death since they were on the floor for hours before someone found them. Someone's bound to find you in the hospital since someone always comes in every hour to take blood, take blood pressure, take your urine away, talk about your urine, talk about your bowel movements, give you medication, and just to leave your door open to annoy you. Here's a little trick I found that works wonders: Want them to stop coming in for a while so you can get some rest? Buzz for a nurse...that will ensure no one stops by for a while. (Oh, I'm joking here...they were very, very, very nice this time around to me.) But to answer my own question...my son actually figured this one out: The television is that high so that you can screw up your neck so you can stay in the hospital longer - or at the very least generate some more business their way.

- How do they expect me to sleep on this horrible mattress with a blood pressure cup attached to my arm that goes off every 30 minutes, blood clot leg massagers that inflate/deflate every three minutes, two IV lines...one put in at exactly the right (or is that 'wrong') angle to make it virtually impossible to bend my wrist for any support whatsoever to help me get up, an IV baggie that keeps getting lower and lower and you remember watching that episode of Marcus Welby, MD where there was one little air bubble in it and the person nearly died because of it, them coming in every couple hours to poke, prod, or generally annoy me to do something, and why do they insist on leaving my light on that they know I can't turn off without getting up...other than to shut the door they continually leave open? Answer: They don't - it's the hospital...leave already.

- You mean I have to actually time my bathroom breaks with the commercials now??? Only those with TiVo will understand this little luxury that, once you experience, you will never live without. You might think it's pretty silly as you've lived your whole life until that point getting up during commercial breaks to make that run. Well, you get a hysterectomy, then lie there waiting for a commercial for 15 minutes when you have to go. Really go. Oh...then remember you have a TiVo at home. Enough said.

- Okay, I just had an operation and I have to be on a "liquid diet" followed by a "soft diet" until I pass gas and can eat "real food" again? First off, this is a hospital..."real food" is debatable. But, I am sure I can live for a day or two eating this stuff. Bring it on. (Two days later...) Well, call me an idiot...I underestimated these people. You see, people IN the "Nutrition Department" of the hospital undoubtedly have a lot of time on their hands between meals to sit around thinking of things that no one in their right mind would ever voluntarily eat...er um..."eat" being the key word here. "Eat" in this case means anything you could sip up thru a straw without much sucking involved. In fact, I believe they have, in their possession, dozens of catalogues of totally inedible food that people didn't know existed that they can order from. Where are these items...I've never seen them in any store? There's a reason they don't have them in a store - the hospital is their sole client. Somewhere out there are companies devoted to making "nourishing" meals that are so incredibly bland and unappetizing in taste, texture and aesthetics they don't have to market them. But the containers they come in try their hardest to get you to taste them...silly names, dancing cartoon figures, vitamins with even sillier bios than their names, etc. They have a lot to learn. Willpower is much stronger than words. So is the gag reflex.


End of Part 1

Not My Old Self

Well, I've managed to do up one HumorMeOnline update last night, so I'm trying to gradually get back to some semblance of my former self without overdoing it. I will try to get a blog up today or tomorrow - but far between Percocet doses the pain kicks back in and it's not comfortable to type and during the time it does work, my eyes unfocus...which makes it rather annoying TO type...so I can't exactly win here.

But hey, at least I'm trying. :)

Back Home Again

Well, I've been in the hospital for the past few days...went straight from a gynecological appointment to the hospital, so I had to pretty much make a decision right then and there as time was of the essence. That wasn't much fun.

Not feeling the best yet, nor will be according to everything I've read...for quite some time. Will try to post some of my hospital food photos and such in the next few days...things that I at least found quite interesting. Hey, you have to keep yourself entertained somehow while there, don't you?

Thanks go out to those who prayed and sent me good wishes and kept me in their thoughts - please continue to do so, if you don't mind...as I really am rather hurting.

"Pause" to Think...

Well, I haven't been having the best month and some here...let's just say perimenopause doesn't have its moments. Between one ER visit, at least three gyno visits a couple doctor visits and one visit to Pri-Med, I am ready to succumb to the wishes of those with greater womanly knowledge than I possess to yank out of me whatever it takes to get this all to stop. When your blood levels drop to the point where they are talking about doing "transfusions"...well, let's just say something needs to be done and be done quickly. I've always been tethered to the "anemic" bungee jump rope (you could call it), bouncing up and down, but my cord's apparently snapped and I'm plummeting head-first down onto the "inflated black abyss" and I'm not sure what'll happens next. Yes, I am in the "scary zone" in pre-menopauseland and I want no more part of this. I don't want to be strapped on any more of these rides, thank you. Furthermore I'd like to see this part of the park closed down for good. I'd like to believe that hanging out at "you CAN leave your houseland" and "maybe I WILL go away for a weekend" can and will turn from being a "funhouse" nightmare into an actual pleasant experience. I'm ready for that change...I relish that change.

So, all those reading out there, please send me your best thoughts, your prayers, your good vibes...whatever you send, just as long as they are good. I'd sincerely appreciate them all...and will definitely need them for my gynecological visit tomorrow.

Mariann aka Tiny Litte Scaredy Cat

Map Quest

No doubt all of you have heard or read by now the disjointed remarks made by 18-year-old Miss Teen USA contestant, Caitlin Upton, representing South Carolina, responding to the question "Recent polls have shown a fifth of Americans can't locate the U.S. on a world map. Why do you think this is?"

If you hadn't seen it, it can be watched here: Miss Teen USA excerpt...and if you can't stop laughing or crying long enough to hear without replaying it 17 times, you can read it here in all its "glory": "I personally believe that U.S. Americans are unable to do so because, um, some people out there in our nation don't have maps and, uh, I believe that our, uh, education like such as, uh, South Africa and, uh, the Iraq and everywhere like such as, and I believe that they should, uh, our education over here in the U.S. should help the U.S., uh, should help South Africa and should help Iraq and the Asian countries, so we will be able to build up our future."

Now, I don't know about you, but if that alone doesn't further emphasize and substantiate the claim that the average U.S. student can't point out China on a map, I don't know what does.

I don't purport to know where the Lesser Antilles or Myanmar (yes, read my blog below to "get" this one) are...but I darned well could point out where Argentina, China, Tasmania, or Norway is on a map...or get plenty of other countries at least "in the general vacinity"...not a haphazard "Pin the Tail on the Donkey, spin me 'round and maybe I'll get it right" kind of blindfoldedness about it all. I probably wouldn't stake my whole wad of cash on a 'Final Jeopardy!" answer on Geography...but I'd wager at least $500.

Where is all this getting to? Is there a point to all this silly banter? Yes. I have, as Archimedes reportedly exclaimed, had a "Eureka" moment the other day where it all became abundantly clear to me "why" we are a nation of geographically challenged inhabitants.

"We" don't typically listen to BBC News.

That's it in a nutshell.

Lately, I've been stricken with another affliction besides insomnia: Watching BBC America's "Cash In the Attic" at 4:00 a.m. Sure, it's not first run programming, but I haven't ever seen any of the episodes, so it's all new to me. And what else is new to me is watching the BBC News which follows at 5:00 a.m.

In one short week, I've found out things I wouldn't ever know otherwise...from Moscow's serial killer, Alexander Pichushkin, to Belgian's winning lawsuit against Microsoft to who the Australian Prime Minister is - John Howard, by the way. Yes, to even the mundane fact that Australia HAS a Prime Minister. Heck, I've been walking around for the past 46 years never knowing what the head of state was called in Australia...for all I cared they could have had the title "Grand Poohbah" bestowed upon him as, in all my years of watching American news, I don't think they've ever mentioned him. They would have if Paris Hilton partied with him...I knew all about Prince Albert of Monaco and the fact he dated supermodel, German-born Claudia Schiffer, a few years ago. Oh, that is "must know" information...but where Monaco IS? "Oh, who cares...didn't that old dead guy, Humphrey Bogart do a movie about that place way back when...'Casablanca' was it?"

Um...no.

And this is why people here in the United States, and school-aged children especially, should be strapped to chairs and their orbits forcibly pried open à la Alex DeLarge in Kubrick's "A Clockwork Orange" - only being made to watch further eye-opening, globe-trotting, mind-expanding broadcasting such as BBC News.

Our news channels should worry less about which ratings place Katie Couric is in, which set looks better, or if reporters should sit or stand while reading the teleprompter...and focus on what is truly important. The citizens of America shouldn't solely get their knowledge of where foreign countries are based entirely upon what countries Madonna's, Angelina's, and Mary-Louise Parker's babies were adopted from.

We, as a nation, deserve more...and we should demand nothing less.

Remiss in Writing

Well, I've had a few things come up here lately and I've been a little lax on my writing. I intend to write something later today...either along the lines of "Confessions of a Former Semi-Hot Chick" or "Eureka, I've Figured Out Why U.S. Kids Can't Find Burma On a Map (other than the fact that they officially changed their name to 'Myanmar' in 1989)!" - but I may just end up doing one and then the other later on this week. So consider this fair warning. :)

The Science of Cleaning

Defusing a bomb, neurosurgery, and keeping my house clean. What do these seemingly uncommon things have in common? They are all things I simply cannot do.

Oh, sure, you might say, "Well, not many people can do the first two...but, c'mon, the third, who can't do that??" I'll tell you who: ME! No, seriously, I have tried and tried. Now, granted, I have two kids and lots of cats - but I stay up pretty much all night and no little elves scurry about at 2:00 a.m. and wreck the place. No poltergeist manifestations, either...so I can't place blame on anyone but ourselves.

How does it get into this state - that's what I want to know. I clean all the time - I don't come in and drop things down on a whim...but still it stays cluttered. Even if you took a scientific approach to try to solve this dilemma, say, Newton's Third Law of Motion (and trust me, something's moving this stuff around)...which states "for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction". Well, once again there's some strange vortex, black hole, or anti-matter phenomenon taking place in my house because we are definitely an anomaly in the world of science. I just can't explain it...I doubt even Einstein, Newton, Planck, or even Fritz Zwicky could either...altho Zwicky did have the most plausible explanation for it all: dark matter at work...because in my own little "home galaxy", far more matter exists here than previously thought. And those neutrinos they can't ever find? I bet I've got some here...bet I have a whole darn box of them lying around...and a few stray ones right here on the table getting batted off periodically by the cats...the ones I end up stepping on and then jumping up...thinking it's what's left over from some dragged in mole.

Someone, probably high up in the physics realm, needs to crack the code here to let me know how it is possible for an area to get more messy/cluttered when more things are put away than taken out on a given day. So, if one person out there actually exists who knows what phenomenon causes this, or better yet, can actually show me how it can be accomplished so it doesn't come back two and four-fold the very next day...you are more than welcome to come here and attempt to prove my theory wrong and yours right. Just pick a day...only make it later in the afternoon as I'm always "on duty" at night ensuring no wood sprites are retaliating for all those trees we cut down years ago when we first moved here...just in case.

So, drop on by...you'll easily recognize me - I'll be the awake one banging away on the laptop perusing the "help wanted" adverts trying (for what seems) ceaselessly to procure a job...as that's another thing I apparently cannot do.

Princess Diana

There are things I always cry at the drop of a hat for: reading "The Giving Tree" by Shel Silverstein, watching The Shawshank Redemption, thinking about my mother not being around anymore, and watching any Princess Diana show.

And now ten years have gone by since she was killed in that Paris tunnel. I remember talking to someone on the phone and Saturday Night Live was on at the time...I glanced at the television a couple times thinking to myself "Geez, this is a really tacky skit they are doing". Then realizing it wasn't one after changing the channel...and telling my friend in disbelief what I...and the world had just been informed of...that Princess Diana had just been involved in a motor vehicle accident and, her diagnosis on screen going from "some broken bones" to "with internal injuries" to "we are saddened to report, Diana, the former Princess of Wales..."

That seems like ages ago and at the same time, it seems like only yesterday. You see, perhaps it sticks with me so much because I, like many others, woke up early to watch her wedding, live, on television. I watched her with her children, I watched her lithe figure dancing away in some magnificent ballroom...and later sitting alone outside the Taj Mahal...her "idyllic" fairytale life brought to real light with that look of total isolation and unhappiness on her face which no one could dispute...it was...over.

But, what seemed like the end of one life transformed itself into one with more purpose: Diana, the champion of people without a voice. She would be the voice for them...she would use her notoriety not to sell perfume or dog clothes...but to speak out for causes such as land mines, hunger and AIDS...and touched not only the hands of those who were shunned...but also their hearts. Touched countless hearts. With her every step she knew the cameras would follow...and she walked right into places no royal had done before (oh, make that ex-royal, she was, of course stripped of her title upon divorce)...heck, she walked into places MOST people wouldn't dare step.

There is a line in a song (Post World War II Blues) from Al Stewart (whose music I loved growing up) which goes "...I can still remember the last time I cried...The day that Buddy Holly died...I never met him, so it may seem strange...Don't some people just affect you that way..." and that about sums up my feelings for Princess Diana...

...some people DO just affect you that way.

Get Me Rich Quick, Please...Schemes

I've been mulling it over in my head for the past few days and there's a couple ways I could make millions if I found either major backing/venture capital or a lawyer willing to take on a really far-fetched case...you know, like that McD's "drove off with hot coffee between my legs" one. Seems being incredibly stupid with connections or incredibly lucky with connections, like inventing the Topsy Tail ponytail doodle or Barney and selling gazillions of them is the way to go. So here are some plans I've come up with which follow that line of reasoning...

Plan A: J. K. Rowling (of 'Harry Potter' fame) is now writing a detective novel, which isn't really fair as she's already the richest woman in Britain and she could write about a peanut vendor who secretly desires to become a perfumier and moonlights as a human replacement for drug sniffing dogs that call in sick at Heathrow...and she'd still be able to sell it. While I, on the other hand, have no such luck, talent, or connections. BUT...I figure if I could get a willing lawyer, I could sue Ms Rowling on the grounds that I would have come up with whichever plot she's going to...only she'll get it published before I can because she already has all that "best-selling author clout" BS in her favour. Well, that doesn't mean that I wouldn't have come up with it...eventually...and just because she has connections, her version will get to press before mine ever would...and that's just not fair, and basically I think she owes me big time. Heck, I'd probably even be willing to make a nice hefty settlement out of court just to spare her the embarrassment over the fact she stole my idea I haven't even had yet.

Plan B: Now for my invention, which I'm sure will be heralded as the next best thing to unsliced bread: The news ticker/news crawl/info scrolly television set cover-upper (okay, the name still needs some work). Are you as annoyed as I am by that black bar they put at the bottom of your TV alerting you to other news that must be so important that they feel compelled to scroll it across the bottom of the screen - but it undoubtedly isn't important enough to warrant a full-blown interruption of what they're reporting on at the moment. Not only do they expect you to concentrate on the top portion of the story, but you also have to simultaneously read about whole other unrelated events as they ticker tape on past. Notice how they don't keep them going during commercials...when apparently they want your whole undivided attention on the product: "HeadOn...apply directly to forehead. HeadOn...apply directly to forehead. HeadOn..." Yes, heaven forbid I miss a single word of that. Oh, let's get back to my "hide the bar" invention, shall we? I figure I could either go directly to the television manufacturers and have them incorporate a "drop down" feature whereas you hit a button on your remote and the picture drops down a tad to cut it off...or easier still, a nice black cloth band, conveniently fastened with two Velcro tab sets for a secure fit to your set. We'll even send you the "adjustable model", sure to fit any sized set: Comes complete with length of black cloth, two sticky Velcro tab sets and a cheapie pair of scissors. See? Once size fits all. Convenient, no? Plans in the future include bands with ads written right on them...or for an extra few dollars, a saying of your choice. I'm sure we'd even find a way to throw in that 2nd Sharpie pen for free (well, for those first 100 callers that is).

And if that doesn't work, I could always go to Plan C and find that lawyer from Plan A and take on CNN, FOX News, and others (if there are others) who do the news crawl scrolly bar and slap a lawsuit on them for inflicting upon me some "as of yet undiscovered" eye dysfunction/mental confusion/brainwave alteration distress. Any of these afflictions, alone, would be clear-cut justification enough to sue, but having the whole EDMCBAD shebang...well, that's definitely cause to employ a crack legal team for representation as surely no amount of "HeadOn" is going to cure those kind of ills.

My Uncanny Blogability

Seems I have the uncanny ability to try to post something here each time their little blogmobile is down for service. As I got in here just now - I'm just letting everyone know that I intend to post up a blog sometime later tonite. Every day they change in my head, so I'm not 100% sure which one will pop up at any given moment, but one is sure to surface before midnite.

Water ya gonna do?

And from the "Things That Make You Go 'Hmmmmmm'" corner of the world...

There's a public service announcement that is running now on Alabama television that really makes me want to give them a call and point out the "Did you guys really think this out thoroughly first?" factor.

It's an anti-drinking-and-boating campaign (put out by the Alabama Department of Conservation and Natural Resources) - which is all well and fine - I can totally understand that concept. But at the end of the spot, the "Marine Trooper" guy in uniform says "Last year drunk boaters caused nearly 1/3 of all fatalities on the water." So I'm thinking "well, that means that a little over 2/3 of the non-drinkers were responsible for the others...so, by that logic, being on a boat with a drunk guy is better odds".

Somehow I don't think that's the point they were trying to drive home. Hmmmm...

I Just Don't Get "It"

My mother used to say "every generation seems to think that they were the first to have sex"...which she might have a point about, as it seems the more things change, the more they stay the same...well, except for more daring displays of sex as these generations go on. The Romans had their orgies, the Victorian times had their "gadgets" (oh, don't let them fool you...they did have sex back then, contrary to what Queen Victoria's history would have you believe), the 20's had Flappers, the 50's had Monroe, the 60's had the pill, Masters and Johnson (I think there's a couple puns there somewhere) and Woodstock, the 80's had big hair, and we have the Internet.

And splattered all over the Internet now are 237 reasons why people have sex and according to this article people are coming up with even more they left out, and AOL's main page the other day had a survey asking what was our worst reason we've rationalized to "get any"...then to top it off they gave us their choices to vote on.

Now there's no denying that sex sells...we've been using sex to sell everything...literally from head to toe. From Herbal Essence Shampoo's apparent orgasmic properties (yes, yes, YES!) to 60's Noxzema shaving cream commercials with a sexy blonde Swede compelling men to "take it off, take it all off" to Joe Namath having Farrah Fawcett slather lather on his face whilst crooning "Let Noxzema cream your face...so the razor won't" (then afterwards telling her "you've got a great pair of hands"), to Joe Namath, yet again, in Beautymist pantyhose. You know, it seems old 'Broadway Joe' scored more passes off the field than on if these 1970's commercials of his were any indication of his sex life.

And then there was that "All my men wear English Leather or they wear nothing at all" men's cologne commercial when I was young. Come to think of it, when I was a kid there were a lot of sexy ads on television...but then again we had to, we didn't have the Internet to get our info. If you were a kid and wanted to look at naughty photos, you did what everyone else did: got out the Sears catalogue and turned to the underwear section.

Ah, yes, the bygone days of my youth...and most people look back on theirs with genuine fondness. How many times do you think back of how things were so great when you were a kid? Or the stories your parents told you when they were young...or your grandparents lingering on tales of what they did when they were children. Well, I've come to the conclusion that while every generation needs to have sex to get to the next generation, life was indeed better without sex. This is also why people want to live vicariously through their own kids when they have them...oh think about it...those glory days of youth. Where would innocent Ralphie, of "A Christmas Story" fame, be if he wasn't mesmerized by that "soft glow of electric sex gleaming in the window"? If he truly KNEW about sex, that leg lamp just wouldn't have had the same intrigue...face it.

So, while a lot of us are indeed curious and read online articles about who does "it" and where and what they say to get "it" and wonder why they do "it"...stop complaining about not getting enough of "it" and just remember how uncomplicated and fun life was before you did. Then go and tell your kid a "When I was your age we didn't have...." story and be sure to smirk a lot...they'll really wonder what you are up to. And only you'll know "not much".