Not only are we moving out of our tiny apartment, into a tiny townhouse on base, I’ve decided that I was happier at Blogger, simply because of the photo uploads. So…
I’m grossed out, and tired…
I finally got to hang out with this crazy woman today. And she’s gonna make me get in shape. She’s gonna be fired.
I am 26 years old now and have have had arthritis for a long time now. And it has rained every day for the last week it seems. At night I can’t sleep and I can barely walk. This getting old stuff sucks.
I think I might move back to blogger. Because WordPress makes me nuts when I upload pictures, and with moving, and working, and a wedding coming up, I don’t have time to mess with it anymore. So, I’ll let you know if and when I go back! (At least there’s warning this time!)
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Now that that’s over…
I just saw a commercial for some gold scrap for cash thing. Among the list of things that they will pay you for, is DENTAL SCRAP. Do people really have gold teeth and fillings laying around? Honestly? And they will mail this to some company and then they send you a check. Um. I’m really really really grossed out. I think I almost threw up.
So, just so I know, any of you have gold DENTAL SCRAP in your house? And if so, I’m not coming to dinner!
The R-Word ~ Part I
*I feel a little weird writing this. But I’m going to say what’s on my mind, because I am brutally honest. Brutally brutally honest.*
I use the word retarded. A lot. That’s hard to admit. But for the sake of my argument here, I have to admit it.
I have deleted what I’ve written like four or five times. I have hated everything that I’ve written because it either sounds flippant or like an apology. And I don’t need to apologize for how I feel.
To start. I find the fact that the movie to boycott at the moment uses the word retard over and over again, in a negative way. (Stay with me!) The blatant disregard for the fact that the word offends some people is unacceptable. I can’t stand that we find it completely unacceptable to poke fun of one group of people (which this movie thinks it was doing) but not another. We need to get equal opportunity hater-ade going. The movie repeatedly used the R-word, but removed the N-word, not just from the film, but from the script entirely. Because it didn’t want to offend people? What the hell?!
I was/am a fan of Carlos Mencia. He makes fun of EVERYONE. Which for the most part, is good. Laughing at ourselves is good for the soul and the self esteem. The problem is, we’re making it harder on ourselves to not take things so serious when we get scared of being sued. Of offending one group of people and not another. Don’t tell me one group of people’s feelings are more important than another simply because one group is bigger. I don’t care if you are white, black, purple, a member of Mensa, have downs syndrome, or are only three feet tall. If it’s okay to offend one, it HAS to be okay to offend the others.
The use and “meaning” of the R-word in the film is unacceptable. There is no need to reiterate some “point” and demean so many people. If the film so blatantly and verbally made fun of everyone else (which in my mind they don’t, simply by saying the N word crossed the line) I honestly don’t think I would be so upset.
One of my favorite movies? The Ringer. With freaking Johnny Knoxville. Whom I can’t stand. At first, I was sooo nervous to watch that movie. Because I hate when people make fun of my peeps. But when I watched it, it was good hearted ribbing, and was awesome! It wasn’t a touchy feely feel good movie. It wasn’t a tear jerker (I am Sam makes me bawl. Hysterically.) It was just a good, good hearted movie. I seriously found it a step in the “right” direction.
Black people are in movies with the stereotypes of their race, and they are funny. White people, well, don’t get me started on white people…
Although I believe words have no weight by themselves, not everyone feels this way. Words can hurt. And they do. And if we are going to tiptoe around some words because people get upset, let’s tiptoe around all the “hurtful” words. Equal opportunity hater-ade people.
Now let me tell you how I use the word retarded. The stupidest of the stupid. Not people. Mainly things, or rules, or crap people spew out of their pie holes when they don’t know what they are talking about. I was raised by my single father who probably has some sort of disability. But 55 years ago, he was just slow and didn’t want to learn. My sister was in MiMH classes my whole life. I helped out with Carl Erskine’s softball league for mentally and physically handicapped kids. I attended more Special Olympics that I can remember. Half of my world is “challenged”. And mostly I forget. Because I don’t care. I don’t befriend people who are at or above “my level”. It’s heart and soul and love and all those other cheesy chick flick things that make me befriend people. I do not have a friend that isn’t who they are 100%. I don’t know why I turned out this way.
I do know I want to raise my kids to have this part of me. Because it’s a part of me I love. And that’s what we pass down to our kids.
(Little Bill had a great response to name calling the other day. For all our children. No matter what. The response to name calling is simply “so”, because it’s just not true…unless you’re Little Z and call your sister a girl. Because that is such an insult!)
*For more on this, you can check out Melody, who has three boys that I want to steal. And Tammy, who also has a little boy I want as my own (Her actual post is here). Hubs says I need a son. I told him good luck with that.
~~I can’t leave this at just this. I’ll have another post about it later, because I think it’s important!~~
Happy Anniversary!
If you ignore the amount of time The Hubs’ family spent hating me (6-8 months depending on the person we’re talking about) I pretty much hit the jackpot in the In-law department. The awesome thing is, Hubs and his family are a lot like mine in the fact that cousins are considered close family. So when I got married, I got more cousins. (I already had 7 I was trying to keep in line!)
For two and a half years, we kept waiting for a phone call from Lindsay telling us that Brian had FINALLY proposed. I had the phone conversation all mapped out. No congratulations. Just an “It’s about damn time!” speech. Because I’m a “fake” relative, I can get away with stuff like that. We went to Indiana for Little Z’s first Christmas. I expected Lindsay to have a ring on her finger before I left the state. But, because Brian sucks, it didn’t happen. It happened the next year, I THINK around Christmas. I have no idea. I had just had a baby (excuse good until child is out of diapers!) and had a bunch of stuff going on.
What I do know, is that last year, their wedding (FINALLY) took place right before The Hubs left for the sandbox. So we got to go. I didn’t wear a dress. (I didn’t wear a bra either, but that’s a story for another time.) I did dress up, and so did the girls. I have some pictures somewhere I should dig up.
So today. August 11, 2008, I want to tell the Internet that I am glad that I get to be related to Lindsay (and Brian, he’s the normal one in the family) and that they are celebrating their first year of marriage. Now that it’s gone, I expect some baby news soon. If I’m not having anymore, we need one a year, for at least a couple more years. Not that I’m demanding, but you know, the world does revolve around ME!
I love you guys! Happy Anniversary!
(Their wedding was GORGEOUS! And I have proof!)
Hmmm…
This has been sitting on my counter for a couple of weeks. At one point, it was full of big, fat, nasty dill pickles. (I’m not a fan, can you tell?) Now, it’s getting lonely because I think it’s been neglected for a while. No one wants that last pickle.
Could it be that someone took a bite and put it back? I’m highly disturbed by this finding. Which is of course why I’m telling the internet about it. Because who else would I tell? Geeze. You guys think I have a life or something? Well…actually…I sorta do. And I left the claustrophobic confines of my apartment and finally fixed this major issue with Z’s hair. We went to the salon in the BX and the wonderful Toni cut Z’s hair. Little Z was GOING to get hers done, but the booger chickened out at the last minute.
Kids are so fickle. Five minutes before this picture, in the car, she was so excited about getting her hair cut for the wedding. (26 days and counting) Once the booster seat was in the chair, and her butt was on the booster seat, she decided if she didn’t speak, she would disappear.
Then there were tears. Because even though Princess said that haircuts don’t hurt, she was convinced that they do. (Let’s pretend the self haircut never happened…) I love the little fish all over the cape. Too cute. Had they used a regular black one, I would have walked out, because my baby is not old enough for that.
Zeph has now decided her next hair cut will be with Ms Toni. She’s HER hair cut girl. because at 3 you should find a good stylist. I just hate to tell her that with the life we lead, she’s only got about 3 years left with Ms Toni. (Which is fine. Erica has her hair lady back home. I have a stylist in Indiana. And I’m sure so does everyone else. How do normal people plan vacations? Ours sorta revolve around hair appointments.)
And if she wants Ms Toni next time, well, her hair turned out fine, and I think I’ll let her go back.
Procrastinators of the world UNITE…tomorrow…
Some procrastinating fun for this lovely Saturday morning.
Yearbook yourself. But only if you want a laugh. And since Erica did it, you know I will too.
This is how I would have looked in 1952. Funny thing is, my grandma has a picture of herself with this hair ‘do. It looks MUCH better on her. And also looks better without a photoshopped face on it!
This one is me in 1968. And my MOM had this hair, and glasses very very similar. How funny!
Sara circa 1970. Actually could have been me circa 1997-2002!!
1982, the year I was born.
The year I started high school, 1996!
And what I guess I was supposed to look like the year I graduated high school, 2000, when really the 1970s was what I actually looked like!!!
How Do I Love Thee…Let Me Tell the Internet
I found this in my mailbox yesterday before I went to work. A little beat up, sorta “damp” but still awesome.
When I talked to my dad about sending it, I told him that he was to buy the stuff at the store where I worked with The Hubs. It was on sale. He wasn’t sure how many ears he could get into the box, so he took it with him and just filled it up in the produce section. I told him if he went early, he’d only run into people who know me, and since I worked there for five years, they know him too. In high school and for a couple years later, everyone acted like everything I did was normal. Because I don’t care what people think. Dad laughed because he knew this was true. So he agreed to do it.
My dad is not one to do funny things in public. He’s hilarious when it’s just the family. But remember what my dad looks like?
He doesn’t really look like the type of guy to do crazy things right? Well, after a quarter of a century being related to me, he finally is breaking down and doing stuff that I find “normal” that other people don’t normally do.
Even Katrina who works at the service desk at the store where The Hubs, Brat, and myself used to work at. She left me a message. And I’m sure she decided that my father mailing me a box full of fresh corn was completely normal.
I could almost swear I heard angels singing when I saw this. It was also almost enough to make me faint out of joy. If fainting out of joy is possible.
This? Well this was just icing on the cake, and a little bit orgasmic. And then, I remembered how much I hate shucking corn. Because the hairs? The hairs are a complete and utter pain, and take FOREVER to get out of the corn, or your teeth if you miss a few.
So I made the kids do it. Because I’m the best mom ever. And I sure as heck wasn’t going to be the one to stand over the trash can and peel hair and husk off ears of corn, when I had better things to do. You know, like take pictures of the corn, and read blogs.
Twelve minutes, one stick of butter, and a few grinds of salt and pepper later, this is what I had for dinner. So freakin’ good. And I still have ears to eat. And maybe now, you’ll understand why I say Indiana has the best corn in the world. (And it’s the prettiest. Illinois, Iowa, and Kansas all have beyond ugly corn.)
Because I’m spoiled…
My birthday is soon. I called my dad to tell him what I want. You ready?
Corn. Shipped in from Indiana. He’s going to go out sometime in the next couple of days to take care of it for me.
There is NOTHING better than Indiana sweet corn. Food of the gods I tell you. (Or a state full of hicks, but whatever!)
Life With the Two 
