Can't... breathe... passing... out....

I was walking into the building here at Widget Co this morning and almost passed out. We have a revolving door that has a badge swipe on it, requiring everyone to enter individually, and only after swiping their ID badges. This often creates a line of employees at the door waiting for those in front of them enter. However, please keep in mind that the door is outside. Where the wind and infinite fresh (well, sorta smoggy) air are.

Today I walked up the steps from the parking lot (the entry is kind of on the second floor) and no one was waiting at the door. As I neared the door and grabbed by badge, I was suddenly knocked off my feet by a woman's perfume. Seriously, my nose physically hurt! Yet no one had been standing by the door during the full minute it took me to get from my car to the door! That means that, whoever she is, she had so much perfume on that the stench lingered in the 50 degree air for at least a full minute after the employee entered the building!! Seriously?? You can't tell you are overdoing it with the scent? Here's a hint: You get more than one application per bottle!

I pray for the health and sanity of whomever sits near her in the office! I would have to dump a bucket of ice water on her if she were near me. Or I'd go home ill. It was that bad. Anyone have a coworker like this?

On a sort of related note, I have a male coworker with whom I meet on a nearly weekly basis. Nice guy, average looking, but he smells so amazing that I actually look forward to our meetings. I desperately want to ask him what scent he's wearing (deodorant? cologne? shampoo?), but I'm afraid it will look unprofessional or send the wrong signals (he's married and I'm not interested anyway). We aren't friends, just colleagues. Thoughts? Is it inappropriate to ask?

Merry Materialistic Christmas

Have you watched any TV lately? If you have, you've no doubt seen the gazillion (yes, I counted them) commercials for luxury cars as Christmas gifts. That's fine. I know companies are out there to make money, and want to sell their products. What bugs me is that they strive to reach only the shallowest demographic possible -- people who choose their car based on what reaction it might get from others.

Honestly, I never, ever, not even once, thought about buying a particular car just for the joy of impressing the neighbors. I thought: "Will it be comfortable on a long trip?" "Will it be fun to drive?" "Will it be reliable for a long time?" I never thought: "Will someone else think I'm better because of it?"

As cynical as I am, I still find it hard to believe that people think this way, but the commercials (which must be successful, or they wouldn't be repeated year after year) prove me wrong. Take Lexus and Audi as prime examples. Every commercial focuses on how your neighbors will be impressed by that big red bow on your new car, or that you will turn heads as you drive down a busy street, or that people will turn away from other neighbors' holiday decorations to gawk at the headlights on your new car. The absolutely pathetic superficiality of anyone to whom such commercials would be appealing is stunning to me.

Does anyone (other than a man with a mid-life crisis) really buy a car to impress others? Well, maybe I shouldn't even bother asking that question. Having worked at a law firm where my fellow lawyers strived each year to buy flashier and more expensive cars than the other lawyers, I shouldn't be surprised. (I had one coworker who was 6'5" tall, but drove a Porsche Boxter because the boss said he thought Boxters were cool -- this guy's knees were up around his ears in that car!) But I guess I had naively hoped that such shallowness was innate only to those losers. Alas, unless these auto companies are targeting only my former coworkers, the phoniness and superficiality go much deeper into our society. How utterly sad for our culture.

Keep your grubby mitts off my money!

So Hillary has now pledged $100 billion of OUR TAX DOLLARS to some fund with a completely undefined purpose aside from the vague "helping developing countries with global warming." What?? Shouldn't they figure out what they need to do before committing money? And shouldn't she maybe see if this is something the American people favor, since it's our money?

Beyond all that, don't we have other important things to spend money on? Seriously, we're still in a recession (ask anyone who's still unemployed!), and have countless domestic problems, yet she thinks we should be wasting money on this? At a time when more and more former manmade-climate-change-fanatics are coming forward to admit that, well, there really is no proof of a connection between smog and climate change, maybe we should focus on fixing our problems here at home first. I'm all for cleaner air, but giving piles of my money to China and India isn't going to solve the problem.

Also, where is this cash going to come from? Do we just have $100 billion sitting around? Of course not. We'll borrow it from China, our biggest creditor. Then not only will we hand them cash to "prevent" climate change, but we'll hand them huge interest payments too. So it won't be $100 billion per year of tax money, it will be $100 billion plus somewhere around 8% interest (that's $8 billion per year additional).

How about using it to help homeless veterans? How about using it to end poverty? How about using it to make sure everyone has somewhere to live? How about using it to build more schools so kids aren't packed in 45 to a classroom? Or -- and here's a radical idea -- how about letting us keep more of our money so we can spend money to stimulate the economy?? But no. They want to just take it and use it as a giveaway for something that can't even be proven to be a problem anyway. Or maybe any warming of the globe is lethal? Like the warming that happened after the last ice age? How awful that was! I'd much prefer to live in an arctic zone....

They should at least be honest about it and just demand our paychecks go directly to the government. Get rid of the pretense, will ya? Until then, keep your hands off the money I work so hard to earn!

Seriously?

You couldn't be bothered to send me flowers ONCE the 6 months we dated, but think that sending them to me after I break up with you will change my mind??

They are NOT the same thing!

I'm working on a complicated proceeding for Widget Co., and it involves attempting settlement of a case we filed with our Federal regulator. Part of the settlement process (we're just getting started) involves emailing with all parties (they're called "intervenors" and it's all of them against us) to hammer out certain logistical issues before we start discussing the actual meat of the case.

After emailing the intervenors Widget Co.'s position on an issue (a position that they were NOT happy to hear), I waited for a reply. What I got was a reply to all.

Instead of the intervenors emailing just each other, they hit reply to all and forgot to remove Widget Co.'s attorneys and business people from their list. Duh. All sorts of nasty sniping went back and forth, all aimed at yours truly. They called me a creep! Actually, that was directed at all of us here, but ... really?? Emails landed in my inbox in at the rate of 1 a minute, discussing the strategy of how to respond to what I had stated. I vacillated between being really annoyed and really amused. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and let them know that we were still on their distribution list.

Ladies and gentlement who represent the intervenors: Please turn in your State Bar cards and your Attorney-at-Law business cards. "Reply" does not equal "Reply to All." You are too dumb to practice law.

Sneaky, sneaky....

Over the weekend, while visiting friends in my home state, I got a new cell phone. It was time. Mine only stayed charged for a day or so, and it had always had charging issues (the cord had to be in juuuuuust right for it to charge -- bump it, and it would fail). I spent about 40 minutes at the Verizon store looking at the different phones, and finally picked the one I liked the best. It had a $50 mail-in rebate as part of the offer. Checking out took for freakin' ever! The mouth-breather who was helping me moved like a snail (he also never -- not once -- closed his mouth -- I guess thought he'd suffocate). I wasn't even in a particular hurry, but he was so absurdly slow I almost pounded him!

Then I got home and got my rebate email. The instructions were to mail the signed and dated rebate form to Verizon, along with my proof of purchase, and I'd get a rebate in about a month. What I almost didn't notice -- what they are counting on people NOT to notice -- is that, unless you affirmatively check and change your address, the rebate goes to the Verizon store! Now, Verizon bills come to my house, so I'm pretty sure Verizon has my address. In fact, the store clerk even verified my address!

There is no non-nefarious reason for substituting the store's address for mine. Very, very, sneaky! I know that the phone companies do the "rebate" thing rather than just give a discount because they are counting on a large percentage of the population losing their paperwork or just forgetting. That's sneaky enough, but come on!! Seriously? Sending the rebate to yourself? That's just evil.

I blame the "Can you hear me now?" guy. Personally.

Soooooo Natural!

When I was in high school, I would frequently hang out at the home of my then-best friend Tracy (or Tracie, Traci, depending on the day -- oh, and the "i" was always dotted with a circle). Tracy's mom was a nutjob. Seriously. She was really scary mean. She insult me to Tracy while I was standing there, or scream irrationally at Tracy while I was there. She stayed married to the man who molested Tracy. And she pronounced "squash" as "squarsh" and "Washington" as "Warshington." But she did teach me how to knit, so she wasn't all bad.

My biggest issue with Tracy's mom was her eyebrows. She was one of those weird women who pluck their eyebrows out completely and then paint them back on. I really don't get this. Why not just shape them and then fill in any bald spots?? I had a friend years ago who was an occasional Baywatch extra, absolutely gorgeous, yet she did this too. I couldn't fathom what possessed her to do it! And these women never paint them on where they should be. They're always waaaaaaay up high, so the woman's face looks perpetually surprised. Not a good look. At all.

Of course, nothing is as bad as people who tattoo them on!! I found this on Ugliest Tattoos (http://ugliesttattoos.com/):

You can't pass a law you don't understand....

One would think that would be the rule, right? If you're a congressperson and haven't read -- or don't understand -- a particular bill, you can't vote on it. Makes sense, right? Too bad that's not the way it works.

Here's one lovely example from Overlawyered.com: http://overlawyered.com/2009/07/medicare-qui-tam-a-health-care-bill-surprise/.

Apparently, just before President Obama's much beloved universal health care bill was shipped off the the House Ways and Means Committee, a "special" provision was discovered. One that would allow anyone to sue on behalf of the government to recover money from a third party that caused medicare to spend money.

What does that mean? Let's assume you're a driver. You're already having a crappy day, and you crash into another driver who cuts you off in traffic because he's texting and changing the radio station while steering with his knee. Maybe it's legally your fault, maybe not, but there's no debating that you are the proximal cause of the injury. Now, say the injured driver has government healthcare, and that government healthcare pays $20,000 to fix that driver's broken leg. Now, some enterprising lawyer can sue you to recover what medicare spent. Where does the money go? Some to reimburse medicare. But much of it would remain in the pocket of that lawyer.

Even better, other language in the bill would allow the lawyer to sue based on "any relevant evidence, including but not limited to relevant statistical or epidemiological evidence, or by other similarly reliable means." That means if you own a restaurant, and have served food -- some of it high calorie, artery clogging, yummy food -- you can be sued because statistical evidence shows that medicare has to pay for health issues related to fatty foods.

Did the legislators who are pushing this bill know that such language was in there?? I don't know what I hope the answer is. If "yes," then they really want to make sure everyone gets sued for everything they do (or statistically may have done). If "no" then they are clearly voting on bills they don't read, and don't understand.

And people wonder why lawyers are considered bottom-feeders and this country's government is a laughingstock elsewhere.... Please, let's dissolve our government and start over.

Hey! I can see you!!

Living in Los Angeles, I'm always, always, always in traffic. Really. Always. I saw a news story that said the average American is stuck in traffic 32 hours a year, but in LA that number rises to 70 hours! Not just time driving, time stuck. Unhappily, miserably stuck, like a mouse whose tail is caught in a trap, frantically looking around for an escape route, even considering chewing off its own tail to escape, but knowing there is no hope.

When I'm stuck going 4 miles an hour on the freeway (why are they even called "freeways" here? they should be called "long parking lots"), there's not much to do but daydream or look at my fellow motorists. I think I should stick to daydreaming. Today as I looked around, I saw a woman applying mascara (driving at least 15 miles an hour while doing so -- I was so tempted to lay on the horn and make her look like Tammy Faye Baker), a guy with the LA Times on his steering wheel (scary that someone would read and drive to begin with, but even scarier that someone would think the crappy LA Times is worth getting into an accident over!!), and 3 -- yes 3 -- people driving and picking their noses.

Note to Nosepicking Drivers: You know what?? We can see you!!! Would you do that sitting in a restaurant? In the park with your kids? On the bus? No. But somehow you think you are invisible sitting in your car! I know some of you think "Hey, I'm never going to see you again, so what do I care?" but you'd be wrong. One of you had a Widget Co. parking sticker on your windshield. I'm sure I'll see you here in the building someday. I'll be sure to hand you a tissue when I do.

And I WON'T shake your hand!

You're Lucky I Like My Car....

What is it about summertime that brings out the highway hemorrhoids? I'm talking, of course, about tailgaters! Yesterday, I drove down to Long Beach, about a 40 mile drive from my happy chunk of suburbia, and I had someone attached to my bumper the entire way. Not the same somebody -- just always somebody.

Why would someone want to drive this close to my car? What if I hit the brakes? What if I have to swerve to avoid something in the road? What if I throw a bag of dog poop out towards his moon roof? (Ahhh, if only my aim were that good....)

I'm trying to figure out how to invent the following device: When the driver sees a hemorrhoid on her ass as she's driving, she can push a button, which will pop open the trunk slightly. Out of the trunk comes a large hand that goes in the tailgater's driver side window and smacks him upside his annoying head.

If you are an inventor, and know how this can be accomplished, please call me on the Bat Phone.

Silliness

I'm very happy to help those with some sort of disability live a more "normal" life. For example, I'm happy to see that seeing eye dogs are allowed in stores, that many companies offer TTY numbers for the hearing impaired to use, and that most buildings are required to be wheelchair accessible.

What bugs me, though, is PC "accommodation." If you are going to do it, do it right; don't just do it to look like you care because it's the "politically correct" thing to do. For example, the Fail blog (failblog.org) has this example of a not-so-useful wheelchair ramp:



But such silliness could never happen here, right? Right? Oh, wait. It has. Here at Widget Co, our office doors have braille on them, right below the office number. Nice. Useful. Helpful if you're blind. But Furminator's office door has fake braille on it. Yes, that's what I said: Fake braille. It's literally a bunch of dots painted below her office number. Why bother? Who the hell is supposed to "read" this?


Thanks for caring, Widget Co!

Trashy Neighbors

I have some of the most annoying neighbors. They live across the street, and daily bring down the value of the homes in our neighborhood. I'm not sure exactly who lives there. There's the Dad. I think the mom now lives in Oregon most of the time, but is often visiting. There are two women my age who appear to be their daughters (whom I affectionately refer to as "Carrot Top" and "Trashy Girl"), and a guy about my age who appears to be their son. They are not always there, but I can't tell if that's because sometimes they're at work or because they just visit all day every day. There are two small infants and a teenage boy ("Gangly Boy"). One of the infants is named "Junior." I know that because I hear "Junior!!!!!!!" shrieked at the top of Carrot Top's lungs several times a day. I wish I were exaggerating. I'm not. Junior runs around in just a diaper on nice days. His mom borrows Gangly Boy's pocket bike (like a tiny motorcycle with a whiny motor) and circles the block for half an hour at a time (never long enough for the police to catch her). She wears no helmet, and best of all, she puts Junior on the handlebars of the bike, with just a diaper and no helmet. Mother of the Year material to be sure.

Who else lives there? 22 cats. At least, that's how many I've been able to count at any given time. There may be more. There are also 3 dogs, one of whom regularly poops on my lawn. The cats are all carbon copies of each other, and are clearly all from the same exact family tree, with no branches (I suspect the neighbors themselves might be inbred as well). I called the Humane Society and they came to get the cats and spay/neuter them, and then returned them. Hopefully, that means there won't be future generations. Gross.

How do they bring down the value of the neighborhood? Let's see. How about the tent (those mosquito tents you put over your picnic table -- see-through gauze protects you from the bugs but lets you see out clearly) on the front lawn with clothing hanging on racks in it? This was up for 2 1/2 months, until last week. How about the furniture on the lawn? A desk, two dressers, a nightstand, a TV and an armoire, all sinking into the mud, because they've been there since the rainy season started -- January. Sometimes they're covered with plastic, sometimes not. I suspect they are actually being used. What else? How about the wrought iron fence in the front yard? "What's wrong with a fence?" you may ask. It's 15 feet long, and not connected to anything. You can walk around it on either side. It doesn't even stretch the length of their yard. I think they only have it there to chain the 5 bicycles to. Not sure who rides the bicycles. I've only seen Gangly Boy on one of them, once. Other things on the lawn: a new front door (finally installed in March, was there when I bought the house in April 2008), boxes, a 10' x 12' piece of plywood (propped up against a tree), and lots and lots of cat poop.

Let's talk cars. There are 5 cars that "belong" to this house in one way or another. One, a red jeep, parks in front of my house all the time. I wouldn't care (I park in my garage, so it's not blocking me), except the Dad is always out there under the hood. I feel like I live in a mechanic shop. Sometimes the Dad sleeps in the jeep. Wish I were joking. The driveway is mostly unpaved. Three of the other cars are usually in the driveway (two never move). When the black car is there (the one that leaves sometimes), there is always someone sitting in it. I'm only exaggerating slightly. There is ALMOST always someone sitting in it, legs hanging out the door. One of the other family members is often leaning in, talking to the owner of the legs.

These people are yellers. I can hear almost all of any conversation they have, because it is at such a volume. Add that to the fact that, except at night, they don't go inside. Seriously. They don't. They threaten Junior with "do you want to go inside???" to make him behave. I can't imagine what is inside that is so frightening.

These people are the epitome of "white trash." I suppose I should at least be grateful that they don't hire a live mariachi band for a yard party every three months like the house two doors down from them.

I'd love to hear your stories of bad neighbors in the comments section. If someone can top these folks, I really want to know about it.

Late afternoon meetings

My boss set a meeting from 4-5 today. What??? I get here at 7ish so I can leave at 4ish. Ack!! and now, the meeting is delayed because her 3-4 meeting is delayed!! Does she not know it's Drinko... er... Cinco de Mayo??

Seriously, who thinks it's ok to set meetings at the very end of the day??? Of course, it could be worse. At least it's not 4-5 on a Friday!! Actually, I've had 5-6 meetings with bigwigs on Fridays. That's just evil.

Silly hysteria!

Swine flu. Open the newspaper, watch the nightly (or morningly, or noonly, or afternoonly) news, check the news sites, and that's all you'll hear about lately. Swine flu. Oh, no! We have 50 cases here in the US!! Oh, no!! What they seem to bury in the story, if they tell you at all, is that the swine flu has exactly the same symptoms and effects as the seasonal flu. Therefore, if you don't fall into the category of people who might die from the seasonal flu (elderly, people with compromised immune systems, etc.), you'll be fine. The worst you'll have is a bug for a few days. What's with all the hysteria?? Yes, take precautions. Yes, wash your hands and don't cough on people. Yes, stay home from work if you feel sick. But stop freaking out!!!!!

New heights of selfishness

This morning I witnessed a hit and run accident, where a young driver blew through a red light and hit an elderly lady walking across the street. He paused for a second, and then took off. I pulled over to help her and call the police. Only one other car pulled over, out of a full 4 way intersection of people. If I give them the benefit of the doubt, I could assume that some of them figured that a crowd wouldn't be more helpful than two people. I think it's more likely that they thought "hey, I'm late for work. Someone else will help." Shockingly selfish.

They don't answer, so please stop talking to them.

I'm a woman who, unfortunately, physically takes after her mother. Not too tall, high-arched feet, more than ample hips, and unnecessarily large breasts. It's this last feature that prompted this post, although I'm sure many less-overly-endowed women have the exact same complaint. It's been bugging me for years now. Am I complaining about the bra-strap trenches on my shoulders, the headaches caused by carrying the weight of young children on my chest, the second mortgage I had to take out on my house to afford a really good bra, or the fact that most blouse designers figure anyone who would buy their clothing must be an A cup? No. I'm talking about Boobtalkers.

What is a "Boobtalker" you ask? A Boobtalker is a man who, while holding a conversation with a woman, talks half to her face and half to her boobs. Does the Boobtalker think we can't tell the difference? Does he think we can't see his eyes repeatedly drop the 10-12 inches from our eyes? Does he think this is flattering? Does he think the boobs are fascinated by his conversation skills? Does he expect them to answer? AAAAAUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!

Seriously, guys. Women hate this. Hate. It. I really don't really care if you sneak a glance -- that's human nature. Maybe you're just checking out my necklace or something. Fine. But after that glance, leave it alone. Stop looking. I don't wear low-cut blouses or shirts two sizes too small to highlight the girls. I'm not seeking any attention for them, so leave them alone.

Here at Widget Co, most of my clients are men. Young, old, married, etc, they run the gamut. I would estimate that 20% of my clients and male coworkers are Boobtalkers. Some to a greater extent than others. With some, it's just a quick glance every 15 seconds; maybe this type of guy is just worried that something happened to them while he took a break to look at my eyes. With others, it's half a conversation directed at them. This is so utterly disrespectful and creepy that I actually find myself crossing my arms to protect them from further looks. I shouldn't have to do this!!

From now on, I'm going to call the Boobtalkers on it. I've done it before, just not here at work, but I've had enough. Stop the Boobtalkers ladies!! Fight back. Either call them on it or direct your conversation to their chests. Maybe they'll get the idea. Probably not....

More Whining

I was trying to hold a conversation with a friend last week. I say "trying" because her 3 year-old made it impossible. Wait... actually, it's not the 3 year-old's fault, it's the mother's fault. Let me set the scene for you:

[Phone rings.]

Me: Hello?

Sally (name changed to protect the annoying): Hi, it's Sally.

Me: Oh, hi. What's up? Haven't seen you for a long time!

Sally: I just called... honey, can you please sit there quietly while Mommy talks to her friend? Please? Thank you sweetheart. I just called to see if you're free this weekend to catch a movie or something.

Me: Sure. Got a movie in mind?

Sally: Well, I was.... sweetie, please sit down. No, get off the chair, that's not how we use the chair. [unbelievable screech] Please, sweetie, use your inside voice. No, don't pull on Mommy's shirt. I was thinking we could go see that new... honey, can't you see Mommy is on the phone? Yes, that's a very nice drawing. Go put it on the fridge, ok? Daddy would love to see it. No, put that down and put your drawing on the fridge for Daddy. Please? [screech] Remember, inside voice. Put it on the fridge.

Me: Maybe we should talk later?

Sally: No, I just .... Baby, get down, ok? Please get off Mommy's lap. Please stop pulling on Mommy's shirt. [screech] Inside voice, darling. Get off Mommy's lap.

Me: Um, I think I'm getting a call on the other line.

Sally: But we're in the middle of a conversation. Can't you ignore it?

Me: Okaaaaay....

Sally: As I was saying, we should go see the new Monsters vs. Aliens... honey, I said stop pulling Mommy's shirt. No, please don't pour that milk on the ... no, no, don't cry. I'm not mad at you. Don't cry, sweetie, let's look at your pretty picture.

Me: Well, I'm not much into kids' movies. How about Duplicity?

Sally: Well, that isn't really appropriate for a 3 year-old. Yes, sweetie, I see, no, don't do that... I see it.

Me: Um, she's coming with us?

Sally: Of course. With the economy the way it is, I really can't afford a sitter.

Me: How about if I pay for the sitter?

Sally: Well, I.... [insert 4 minute conversation with 3 year-old]. The thing is, she hasn't been sleeping well and I don't want her to feel like I'm not sympathetic to her feelings.

Me: Hey, sorry. I just got an email from my boss. I need to go out of town this weekend.

Sally: You need to figure out your priorities. Your friends should come first, but you are always distracted by your job.

Sadly, this is probably close to word-for-word. I got an email from her over the weekend. It was a page-long diatribe about how hard it is being a mom, and how no one understands. It went on to detail how her kid is doing in every area of her life -- potty training (aren't they trained by this point?), pre-school (i.e. playtime), choosing her own clothing, drawing, etc. It explained how great her kid is, especially compared to all the other kids in her learning academy (day-care). Sigh.

Newsflash to you moms. Your kid is not the greatest kid ever born. In fact, there's a chance your kid will grow up to be an ax murderer or AIG exec, making you look particularly stupid for thinking he/she is so awesome. I'm happy for you that you enjoy being a mom. Really. But I don't -- let me say it again, I DON'T need a report when your kid takes a crap. I don't need to know that your kid was crabby today. I don't think your kid is particularly talented or special. Every parent thinks that about their own kid, and it can't all be true.

As a kid, if my mom wanted to talk to someone, I was told to be quiet, and I knew there would be consequences if I disobeyed. I was quiet. My parents could shop in a store or eat in a restaurant with three kids without earning the collective hatred of the entire establishment. We were told to behave, and we did. If time-outs work for your kid, great. If not, find something else. Misbehaving, screeching and demanding attention are NOT acceptable.

More important news flash. YOU decided to have kids. Not me. So don't start whining to me when your kid isn't sleeping through the night and you aren't getting any sleep. I don't want to hear it when you have to clean up kiddie puke, or scrub infant diarrhea out of your couch. That's part of being a parent, so you signed up for it. Don't think you'll get sympathy out of me when you have to take off work for doctors appointments and PTA meetings, and when other annoying kids show up at your house to play. You asked for it. Keep it to yourself. You're whining.

By the way, I am exempting brand new parents from my diatribe. You are still learning how to cope, and everything is new and exciting. You get 6 months. After that, it's whining. I'm also exempting the parents who refuse to let their kid(s) take over their lives. My friend Susan and her husband drove cross country for 3 months to visit family when the kid was only a few months old. If she can do that, why can't you go see a two-hour movie without yours?

Bottom line: There's not a conspiracy of secrecy to prevent would-be parents from knowing what it will be like. There's no mystery how kids are conceived. You made the decision, you live with it. And STOP WHINING!

You're Saying It Wrong!

Poor pronunciation drives me crazy. Seriously crazy. I’m not talking about people who learned English as a second language – they have a perfectly legitimate reason for mispronouncing words. This is especially true given that, in English, the spelling/pronunciation connection is often attenuated at best. Take for example “laughter” and “daughter” or “bomb” “comb” and “tomb” – why aren't these sets of words pronounced the same? I would be confused too if I learned this a second language.

What I'm talking about, though, is words native speakers of English can’t be bothered to pronounce correctly, even when speaking in a formal setting.

My first example: Library. It’s not “liberry” people!! There’s an R in there. Even worse: February. It’s NOT “Feb-yu-ary.” There’s an R in there. Say it!! How about this one: Temperature. Seems easy enough. Then why do I so often hear “temp-a-chure”?? You can’t eliminate a syllable because you’re lazy!! Don’t add syllables either. For example: Mischievous. It’s pronounced “miss-cheh-vuss” NOT “miss-chee-vee-uss.” Where do people get that extra syllable?? Or how about when people replace one syllable with another, as in: Nuclear? It’s “noo-klee-ar” NOT “noo-kyuu-lar.” Ugh! Or another favorite: Supposedly. It’s not “su-pos-ah-blee.” Read the word.

Ack!! I know some of you have your pet peeve mispronounced words. Feel free to share them in the comments!!

Stupidity

Doesn't it seem that there are more stupid people in the world than intelligent people? And doesn't it seem like they're always being stupid around you? There's a reason for it. Stupid people breed more. Case in point: Octomom. Fourteen children and not a clue how to pay for them. Now, I'm not saying that big families always equal stupid. My Grandpa had 9 sisters, and all were productive members of society (and contributed brilliance to my family, of course). But there does seem to be a correlation between stupidity and numbers. Anyone ever seen the movie Idiocracy? WeMo recommended it to me, and, while it's meant to be a comedy, it's a rather sad social comment on the future of the world. At the beginning, it shows a married couple, in their late 20s and obviously well-educated and well off financially, discussing the pros and cons of having children. They conclude that they aren't at the point in their lives where they can give a child everything it needs, so they put it off. Contrast that to the guy and his wife living in the trailer. They can't afford much of anything, and don't put any thought into their children's welfare. They just start breeding. And breeding. And breeding. As if giving the kids life is enough. Another example, people who bought ridiculously expensive houses with interest-only loans, without ever sitting down to figure out what the payments would be once the interest-only part was over. Or people who live in trailers and drive Lexuses (Lexi?). Then they're surprised when the repo man shows up at their door. What's the point of all this? If you can't afford it, don't do it. Kids, cars, houses, etc. You're just adding to the stupidity of the universe.

Dogs have litters. People shouldn't.

Earlier this week, the big news was that a woman in California gave birth to octuplets, even though doctors said she was only pregnant with seven. Eight new healthy babies. Eight. That's a litter. Dogs and cats have litters. People shouldn't. Doctors won't release information about whether the woman took fertility drugs, but there can be no question. For a human to bear a litter, you need drugs. Lots of drugs. Expensive drugs. Now there are eight hungry mouths to feed. So unless this family is rich, they will need a ton of help from family, friends, and, most likely, taxpayers. The family lives in Whittier, which means it's highly unlikely that they are rich. Highly. Unlikely. Add to that the more recently-disclosed information that didn't make the national news: the woman already has six kids. Six. But for some reason, she thought that wasn't enough, so she needed to take fertility drugs. Now she has fourteen. I hope the babies are healthy and happy. And I hope the mom gets spayed.