Queue and Eh...

When the boys over at Queue and Eh asked me to participate, I was excited and a little apprehensive. Thank goodness they didn't expect me to be funny like Calzone and Todd.

So ladies and gentleman, get your ass over to Queue and Eh

I am curious about what everyone will think, and I think it could generate some great discussion..

and possibly a little controversy... eep!

My boyfriend is so evolved...

Orgasms are linked to happiness right? I'm sure there is research to this effect, something about how it releases endorphins, which make you happy... they are generally good times.

A quick google of "orgasms and endorphins" found this!

So they make you happy and reduce stress?!

I haven't seen TFG since the beginning of October.
I have been very stressed out.

TFG being a very evolved and loving man, secure with his skills in the bedroom decided that I deserved a gift in the mail to alleviate my problem.

I came home today from coffee with my brother (my first venture from the cave since Saturday), and the package was on the stairs.. we ran upstairs, my brother all excited, because who doesn't like packages in the mail?
I opened it in front of him, and quickly noticing what it was, slammed the box shut and said it was nothing. He giggled and left.
If anyone in my house asks, its a book.
But for everyone here?

My boyfriend bought me one of these...

its pretty and cute and fits in the palm of my hand.
and it charges so no batteries, and its quiet!

my boyfriend is officially the best.

If I'm a happier blogger tomorrow morning its probably just a boost of endorphins.

For Ubie.

I bathed today, but i probably won't be leaving the house. Bathing and changing out of the clothes I slept in is progress though.


Ubie asked for my avatars, and since that is easier then coming up with something non-computer science related, here goes.

Happy Blogiversary to me.

Well it has been a year. A fantastic and great year of blogging. in tribute to that I have made a list of my favorite posts.

So please fell free to browse the list

You have all been wonderful and I love reading every blog on my roll,

And the comments, jokes, support and general fun

That come from this community we have created.

Greatest Hits.
Dove
Gnome Hunting
Fake Yogurt
Pregnancy and Birth
My fabulous Partner in Crime
Anti-feminist teenage girls
Vibrators
The Maury Show
Vagina Revocation
Feminists for Life
More Vagina Revocation
On the idocy of going by the name "Scooter"

I want Kermit to give me a wakeup call..

He seems to be giving it to everyone else, so why not me?

Target allowed wake up calls from Kermit the frog this morning so you could arrive bright and squirrelly at their black Friday sale.

I would like a wake up call from Kermit every morning "Good morning MissKnit, time to wake up and get off your ass, time to get the ball rolling"

I now understand what it felt like for TFG, while writing his thesis. He couldn't call his parents without being asked "so when will it be done?"
Fuck off
It doesn't help.

My father and I tried to bond this morning at 3am with an attempt at these crazy sales. 4 stores had laptop deals and we wanted to get one for my mum.

apparently, we weren't the only ones.

A dozen slow cookers? I mean honestly. The levels of insanity a person will go for a deal blows my mind, I mean its just stuff.

We were out the door by 4 am, had driven past all 4 stores and seen the chaos, and were home in bed by 5.

All I could think of was riots and japanimation style fighting over cheap merchandise.

We have the same thing in Canada (and I think a few other countries) called boxing day sales, right after Christmas. We always used to watch the lineups on TV, never actually participating in the madness. My father and I agreed this morning that it had partly to due with our detachment from consumer culture and partly our fluid lifestyle.

Neither lends to early morning fighting over a television set.

So back to work for me.
It is flowing.
A week off work should take care of both assignments.
Then exams
Then Xmas
Then Australia.

I have a newfound confidence that I won't fail, that it will happen.

I just need to get off my ass.

Me in a nutshell.

click here

My Name

My name feels like an ill fitting pair of pants.


I'm gonna go away and crawl in a hole with my laptop, only to emerge when I have completed these White Whale assignments that have plagued my every waking moment.
I cannot enjoy my excitement for Australia until they are done.

I mother has begun performing "adult-daughter-sitting" to keep me on track and to hide my wireless internet card in various places.

If I'm not back in ten days, send the rescue party.

Little Miss anxious

A day in my head.

Here is what a day in my head sounds like.

While teaching English-
What part of silent reading do these children not understand?!?!
I can't believe that kid remembers that last year I told him that the had crossed the line and pissed on it with his holocaust joke. Did he just say he wrote a song called "Sometimes I forget I'm not gay"??!?!
Thank goodness the bell rang, get this brats out of here...why is this greasy haired senior looking at me? Why does he want to know what I'm doing Friday night> maybe his little band has a gig? Fine tell him you aren't busy.... He wants to take me out for dinner?!?! QUICK put your emergency "I'm engaged ring" on your left hand... SHIT I'm not wearing it... crap... tell him you have a boyfriend.... He thinks its okay if my boyfriend comes with us?!?!?!..... just blow him off....

While Teaching Video 4 times in a row..
1st time... holy crap I get to watch "Back to the Future?!" kick ass.. and we have projection it in the room?!! sweet...

2nd time... sweet merciful crap this is a great movie...

3rd time... god damnit it would be nice to have some natural light in here... I could narrate this movie...

4th time... please... stop.... no more back to the future... damn you McFly!!!

And one last round of English

wow. These kids are quiet... too quiet... are they on drugs?
How did that unfortunate balding girl get this far without tell her that her tight thin white t-shirt was showing of her black and pink lacy bra? Is she wearing it on purpose? holy crap she is balding... stop staring at the bald stop...


So there ya go, my day from the point of view of my random thoughts... one other random thought? I realized today that I don't think my ex boyfriend never went down on me... and if he did it wasn't memorable... how sad. no wonder we broke up so many years ago...

I'm thinking I need to go on an IV coffee drip.

I spent the day at my dad's office. Completely disconnected from the internet, and I still managed to find ways to avoid work. Damn you spider solitaire!!!

I keep wondering what the hell happened? In my freshman year of university it was normal to be up until 3 am doing school work and then drag your ass to class the next morning to hand in your work of genius.
It was normal to go to the vending machine in the middle of the night and be convinced by some nutrition student that the peanut m&m's are better than the plain because of the peanut protein. I miss that rush. I need that rush, that sense that you need to dive into back to back massive essays in two weeks, or one week, or two days.
It's the shared experience that makes it possible, makes the endurance test feel normal.

I think its living at home that has killed my rush. This crazy semblance of order and "bed times" and watchful parental eyes that has made my nocturnal ways suddenly seem strange.

Don't get me wrong, my parents could careless what time I go to bed, nor would they say anything. Instead I get questions.
"So how many assignments do you have left?"
"When are you going to book your exam?"
"you have to write HOW many pages?"


It doesn't help. don't ask.

Every once and a while, this wave of calm washes over me like a warm bath and I realize how hard this isn't. These waves never seem to occur right before bed, I take hours to fall asleep and wake up with the blankets twisted at the foot of the bed. My legs are tired all the time, I feel like I run a marathon in my sleep.

But this weekend wasn't a complete waste, and only one day of work next week will give me a new few consistent days to get my assignments done.

So sorry if I'm not too exciting, but I'm feeling a little 'whelmed.

Are you Darlene?

I had a day off today, and probably won't be doing much more work between now and when I leave with imminent exams and large ass papers to write.

I needed a change of pace, so I got all dressed, let my hair go all curly and cute and went to the coffee shop. I walked in, and noticed 3 older hot firemen checking me out... always nice.
I set up with coffee, all my papers, headphones rockin and went to work..

Then it happened.

A physically fit friend of the firemen, with gray hair approached me.
"Are you Darlene?" he asked.
I politely said no and he walked off.
While that was the end of our interaction I couldn't stop thinking about it and his sitting nearby looking at me with random confusion didn't help.

Do I look like a Darlene?
Who was Darlene? Was she a blind date? a prospective employee?
Do I look old enough to go on a date with him?
I look like I could be his daughter.... is he meeting a long lost daughter?

I went through different levels of insult and confusion, finished my drink, and left.
I've never been able to loiter in a coffee shop alone.

Especially when creepy older man want to be my daddy...
or my sugar daddy...
ewww...

Purple Happens

I taught Pre-school to autistic children today.

I have yet to get the smell of aqua-velva and play-dough out of my hair.

Play dough is fabulous, helps deal with stress.
It adds stress when a three year old decides to grind it into your pants.

One boy had a distinct smell of the good ol' aqua. It seems that he and his dad shave together in the morning, him with his playskool razor (or some such toy) and he gets to participate in the aftershave portion of the routine. Pretty cute when you think about it, but I just had a kid climbing all over me, smelling like my grandfather.

I had another girl who had such speech issues that she resolved her inability to communicate by throwing the largest, heaviest object she could find at my general direction.

Another student mistook me for a jungle gym, doing bridge pose (a yoga thing) with his feet on my knees, arms around my waist, bellybutton in the air.


So its 11, and I look back on today with much more happiness then yesterday.. I also wore very very comfy "Clark's" shoes, I think there is a correlation.

as I get changed into my pj's, I notice that one student mistook me for their art project and attacked me with a bingo dabber..

Purple happens
All over my pink top.

Ah well.
still a good day.

Uncomfy shoes = mean teacher.

***Disclaimer: I am PISSED OFF.. I had a crappy day and I want to vent, so my post will be filled with generalities and angriness..deal with it ***

I think that high heeled shoes were put upon the earth to bring women down. The idea of joining the business work force is foiled by my hatred of high heeled shoes, that and my hatred of cubicles.

I thought that since I am almost 23 I should magically want to wear them. Like everything I ever felt about my large feet and the idea of squeezing them into heels would be negated by my age.
Yea... not so much.
I found that I was a pretty crappy teacher today, to some really awful kids, because I was pissed that my feet hurt.

I never understood high heeled shoes. You are lying! Everyone knows you aren't that tall! who are you kidding?!?!
and this whole concept of "Breaking in a new pair of shoes" is bullshit. I don't suffer for fashion.

Shoe shopping is like Russian Roulette. You try the shoes on, do your little strut down the aisle, and decide just how comfy that pair is, or pray will be, once you "break them in"

So you take the shoes home, and you find out the truth.
The shoes are put to the test, when you walk a concrete art room floor for a day, trying to be patient with whinny little middle school brats.

My high heels failed.

I may be turning 23.. but slight platforms and boots will be the extent of my heels.
No matter how hot my ass looks in those slightly spikey numbers.


Little Miss Pissy

kissings tests and other such nonsense

I took this test August 17th.... Finally posting it because I'm fresh out of new ideas... And I'm in DIRE need of a good deep kissing. I wrote the caption for it while taking it, obviously.

______________________________________________

I took this test before I left the sweet arms of my lovely boyfriend.... and when I started taking it, he randomly started kissing me passionately, so maybe its good luck!

Part Romantic Kisser

For you, kissing is all about feeling the romance You love to kiss under the stars or by the sea The perfect kiss involves the perfect mood It's pretty common for kisses to sweep you off your feet

Part Expert Kisser

You're a kissing pro, but it's all about quality and not quantity You've perfected your kissing technique and can knock anyone's socks off And you're adaptable, giving each partner what they crave When it comes down to it, your kisses are truly unforgettable

What Kind of Kisser Are You?

PS... a little something funny for all the FSM fans... A prayer..

Our Pasta, who "Arghh" in heaven, Swallowed be thy shame. Thy Midgit come. Thy Sauce be yum, On top some grated Parmesan. Give us this day our garlic bread. And give us our cutlasses, As we swashbuckle, splice the main-brace and cuss And lead us into temptation, But deliver us some Pizza. For thine are Meatballs, and the beer, and the strippers, for ever and ever. RAmen.

Elenor Rosevelt PE teacher Clone...

Whenever I go to teach PE, I think of that Margaret Cho bit, where she's doing an impression of her mother holding her in her arms as a baby: "Oh, you're such a cute baby. Such a lovely baby, such a cute... Oh Oh, what's this? You're a dykey baby! A cute little dyke baby. Maybe you grow up to be, PE teacher."


I'm off to teach PE for the afternoon.. fun times.. I love going to work in yoga clothes.

I know everyone hates long articles, as seen in my previous post, but I'm doing it again anyway.
Up to you to click on the link, its about sex and how one rabbi is approaching it with the youth of his synagogue..



“Be very careful if you make a woman cry, because God counts her tears. The woman came out of a man’s rib: Not from his feet to be walked on. Not from his head to be superior, but from the side to be equal. Under the arm to be protected, and next to the heart to be loved.”- Talmud

Your Child's Sub,By Valerie Schultz

I read this in today's LA Times Magazine. This essay encompasses my lifestyle completely.
Kids seem to be willing to say anything to a person they don't think they will ever see again.


ESSAY
Your Child's Sub
The creation reveals the creator, especially to a substitute teacher


By Valerie Schultz
Valerie Schultz is a writer living in Tehachapi.
November 13, 2005
I am a sub, neither a sandwich nor an undersea vessel, but the person in your child's classroom when the teacher is absent. I'm the substitute. You don't know me, but I know a lot about you from your child. Your child is a mirror, a sponge, a parrot. Your child is the best and the worst of you. You would be surprised by the things your child tells me, things that you assume stay in the family. Like the lemon of a car you sold to the gardener's friend, who doesn't speak English and is here illegally. Like the clipped length of time between your oldest daughter's wedding and the arrival of your first grandchild, and how funny it was at the church when you kept telling her to "suck in." Like your his-and-her tummy tucks.

But usually I know more about you by your child's actions than by anything I'm told. I know if it mattered to you to teach the basic please-and-thank-you manners when your child was small. If manners haven't become automatic by the time I meet your child, it's too late. I know the value you place on a good education if your teenager remembers to bring a pencil to school. I know if your high school senior falls asleep during the short film on how a bill becomes law in the California Legislature because he was working late last night at In-N-Out Burger. "I owe my dad rent and car insurance," he says, explaining both his fatigue and his need for steady income. Is it even legal to charge your kid rent? I know if you respect the teaching profession by the way your child greets me. Or doesn't. By the way I must tell your son every five minutes to remove his Dodger cap. By the way your daughter threatens to sue me when I ask her to stop discussing last night's episode of "The OC." I know that you are a schmoozer by the way your son tries to sweet-talk me out of following the real teacher's lesson plan and into a free day. "C'mon," he says in a buttery voice, "nobody expects to do any work when there's a sub." I know that you manipulate the system by the way your daughter says she must use the restroom immediately because of a girl-emergency, and then turns up half an hour later after visiting her friends' classrooms. And I know that you live by the book because your child surreptitiously points out to me the stolen seating chart. I know that you tolerate bigotry and homophobia by the names your child calls the classroom misfits. Or I know that you are kind to others by the way your child volunteers to partner with the classroom misfit. Or by the way your child does not pile on. When a backpack is flung open under my nose, I know whether you smoke. I know how you voted in the last election because your son suggests naming the newly hatched chicken in the science room "John Kerry." I know your income bracket by the brand names on your child's back, by the camera cellphone and iPod I threaten to confiscate, by the casual way your child wastes food. Conversely, I know the shaky state of your finances when your child does not have $20 to go on the field trip to the Museum of Tolerance, does not have lunch money, does not have lunch.

I know if you are religious by some of the questions I am asked, even though we are not supposed to discuss it in public school. In one classroom, a spirited debate took place during the Pledge of Allegiance as one group of students loudly shouted the controversial words "under God," while another group responded by emphasizing "liberty," the fifth-to-last word of the pledge. The moment was a crystallized lesson in civics. I can guess the state of your marriage by the way your child treats classmates (or teachers) of the opposite sex. Or your divorce. I know that your child shuttles between two households because he can't figure out where he left his report on the San Fernando Mission that is due today. Or when he makes two Mother's Day cards—one addressed to mommy, the other addressed to his dad's friend. I know too much about you when your child, while writing her autobiography, asks me how to spell "tubal ligation." "I wasn't supposed to happen," she tells me apologetically, as though she blames herself for every bad thing that has happened in your life since her conception.

A book called "50 Jobs Worse Than Yours" by Justin Racz lists substitute teacher as one of the all-time worst jobs to have, along with rat catcher and "It's a Small World" ride operator. I must disagree. My job offers excitement and variety, flexibility and immediate feedback, as well as lessons in colorful language and what's hot in body piercing. I often get notes and drawings from students. "You are a beautiful, kind, sweet teacher," says one of my favorites, from a sixth grader, under a drawing that resembles Substitute Teacher Barbie more than it does me. I am heartened when I hear kids resolving disagreements among themselves, when I see them smile in genuine happiness, when I can taste how well they get the subject they are studying, how much it matters to them. It does happen. I admit to bad days, but I'll take a roomful of students over a colony of rats or rows of Small World singing dolls any day. The students are usually somewhere between rats and dolls.

Which you already know—because they're your kids.

All Along the Watchtower..

So most of us had today off, to observe our countless men and women currently serving, or veterans of various wars.
They deserve nothing but our respect, no matter what we think of the president that dragged them into the current war.

Some chose to use this day to get ahead in school work (like myself)
Others took this day as an opportunity to get the family together, and bond.

I woke up this morning, had my coffee and I was walking upstairs to start my day, noticed something odd.
Two white Mini-vans parking on the side of the road, not near any house, all dressed in their Sunday best.
I thought through the obvious things.
A gathering for a funeral,
Some type of party perhaps?
But then I noticed something.
Binders.
And bibles
In their hands.
And they weren't parked in front of any particular house.
I did what any good girl, called into Paul Revere like action.
I warned the household.
"JEHOVAH'S ARE COMING!!"

We took our positions. In hiding. Hoping they would go away, after our two cocker spaniels barked their heads off.

15 minutes passed, and then they rang the door bell. My mother in her fearless glory decided to walk up the stairs, so they could see that we were home, but not about to answer the door.

Now the last time they showed up, we had no warning. An older woman was at our door, coming to preach to us about Jesus.
Now she was easy to dismiss, since she looked like she found Jesus the day before, under the trucker she had just blown for a five spot and a pack of Lucky's.

But today, they were kids.
I would rather have them feel the cold dismissive nature of my unopening door then anything my brother or I could say.

One time they showed up and he yelled out at the top of his lungs "WE FOUND JESUS YESTERDAY, HE WAS UNDER THE COUCH"

So to any Jehovah's out there, let me part with this, going out there and preaching door to door is one thing, but sending your teenage daughters to ANYONES door, unaccompanied is just
plain
stupid.


-Little Miss Grateful.

Yea he's afraid of bears, but that's just sensible.

I'm in love.
If Brooke can have Viggo, I can have him.
how can you not love this...ummm..face?

_____________________________________________

The guvernator was seriously on television 10 minutes ago saying "If I could make another Terminator movie I would make one where the Terminator goes back in time and warns me not to have a special election"

He got his ass handed to him

On a platter

His musclely un-tastey ass.

HA

_______________________________________________

So the Scooter is into bear-on-girl action eh?

Sick twisted fuck.

At age ten the madam put the child in a cage with a bear trained to couple with young girls so the girls would be frigid and not fall in love with their patrons. They fed her through the bars and aroused the bear with a stick when it seemed to lose interest. Men paid to watch

Oh and it gets better, apparently the beastiality is extended to deers as well. Hunting with him must be freaky...
check out the new yorker article...

_____________________________________________

Vincent Gallo, I don't want to have your baby.

He tried to sell his sperm online. Non-whites need not apply..

he says it is guaranteed drug free, but anyone that has remotely heard of Brown Bunny would be suspicious of that claim


Thats all, just saw these things over the last couple days...
Enjoy.

Ps. This is a double post day, so scroll bitches scroll!!

So I'm teaching middle school science today and this is the conversation I get sucked into:

Brat: If we have the periodic table in our textbook, why do we have to write it out?

Me: Well studies have proven that if you write things out in different ways rather then just reading it, then it helps you learn better.

Brat: Well its too much work.

Me: I don't make up your assignments, its not my responsibility. It's your responsibility to do the assignments you are told to do.

Brat: Well could I just write in the ones that are going to be on our test?

Me: sure, if you want to hand in an incomplete paper.

Brat: Geez, I just asked a question.

5 minutes later.

Brat: Why aren't all the elements on our paper?

Me: Excuse me?

Brat: Why aren't all the elements in the chart on our assignment paper?

Me: would you rather I give you more work?

Brat: No, I'm just asking.

Me: Well 5 minutes ago you were trying to argue your way out of doing half the work, now you claim you want to double it, so excuse me if I question your motives.

Brat: whatever.


This is the kind of attitude I deal with every time I'm in a middle school.
also, I need a new phrase to get them to be quiet then "excuse me" because I'm sick of hearing "your excused" muttered under someones breath.
Also, why is there this desire to correct the teacher from middle schoolers?

During the last period of class one student asked a completely stupid question as I had JUST finished giving the instructions for the SECOND time since class had started not 15 minutes ago.


Brat#2: Oh, did you already give these instructions?

Me: (exaserbated from having given the same instructions 100 times in one day) YES like 5 times!

Brat#3: I thought it was only 2.

Me: Excuse me?

Brat#3: (all smug) you only gave the directions twice.

(Whoopdie-shit, 5 vs. 2 and I used the word like.)

Me: And what purpose does that serve? Telling me that I said it twice instead of 5 times? Isn't the point that your friend over there managed to COMPLETELY IGNORE my directions with it being clearly given several times?

Brat#3: whatever.


If I EVER talked to a teacher like that I would be kicked out of the room. Is it a Canadian thing? Is it a french immersion thing and that all my teachers were french canadian?

GRRRRR

Little Miss Meany

PS. I had a kid from Brampton, a kid from Oakville and a kid from England in my class, so we sat around in homeroom talking about candy bars we miss.

Oh how I could go for a Caramilk bar right now.

Go Girlcott Go...

The following t-shirts are for sale from either abercrombie or american eagle.
I would personally like to send a big "Fuck You" out to both of them.

A "girlcott" was formed to send a message to A&F, that they may be able to exploit young girls in 3rd world countries, but like hell they will do that with graphic tees here in America!

But honestly, the girlcott is great and shows amazing initiative on the part of young girls, and it worked, a&f pulled the tee that said "who needs brains when you have these"... these tees still remain though...






I may not like all her movies, but I love this quote, and I think it applies nicely....


"Creating a cultural icon out of someone who goes 'I'm stupid, isn't it cute?' makes me want to THROW DAGGERS! My grandma and my mother did not fight what [they] fought for so you can start telling women it's fun to be stupid. Saying that to young women, little girls, MY DAUGHTER? It's not OK" - Reese Witherspoon (on the Parises and Jessicas of the world)

Panic Mode.

I booked my ticket, and it looks like I will have the joy of seeing Korea...
For about an hour..

The timer on the left was supposed to help remind me how much time I have, making me realise that I can do all the work I set out to do, but instead its making me think about how much time I don't have.

Thank goodness for dentist-prescribed-valium.



So Pardon my awful bloggin lately..

I've had too many Bitchy Pills..


-Little Miss Crabby Ass

The fountain was filled with dawn..

I don't know who she is, but she is out there, wielding karma fantastically..

the "Olsen Twins of the White Power Movement" I have referenced recently have gone into hiding. It seems that the attention that they received after the ABC news left them wounded...

after the TV segment, and an outpouring of criticism "The girls were in tears. This is going to follow them for the rest of their lives."
...
the girls are "living in an undisclosed location and there will be no more personal appearances until this thing is long blown over"

Awww.... the poor things found that the American public wasn't ready for their brand of racist tweeny pop?

Quelle Surprize...

A roundup

So much to say and I want to get it all out, so I'm doing a round up..


1) Proposition 73

I know I polarized the blog a little the last time with this post but ya know what? My blog, my rules. I'm sure that there are many other things that those of you that disagree with me can agree with me on.

I recently read this interesting fact about the proposition that isn't mentioned in the ads.

But that is not always the case. And Proposition 73 is not just about parental notification. If this proposition were honestly about parental notification alone -- not about punishing doctors or judges or making frightened children jump through hoops -- we might be able to make an argument for it. But the devil, in this proposition, is in the details, which is why The Star recommends a no vote.

Proposition 73 inserts language into the state Constitution defining abortion as causing the "death of the unborn child, a child conceived but not yet born." According to the USC California Policy Institute, that can have unforeseen consequences as it did in Pennsylvania, where the "unborn child" language in its Abortion Control Act, prevented embryonic stem cell research on Pennsylvania embryos. Such research is only allowed on out-of-state embryos.

This was taken from the local newspapers editorial. The local conservative publication, so you can imagine my surprise. You can read the whole article here

There is no other reason for that language to be put into the constitution unless it is in the hopes that it will assist in future pro-life endeavours.

2) Harajuku Girls

I was certain I had bitched about this concept here on blogger but a quick search says otherwise. The Harajuku girls are Gwen Stefani's pets. She named them (very coincidental that the girls names make up the name of her purse line, and her album, very coincidental I'm sure), and they consider themselves to be living in "Gwen's fantasy world". An article from Bitch magazine discussed Stefani's consistent use of random pieces of different cultures and how her use of the Harajuku culture is another one of those misinformed uses.

Margaret Cho wrote a great blog post about it, and it's not only funny but interesting as well as her blog always is.

I looked at the links she provides and they are downright scary. I guess that the bottom line is that these girls are getting paid, and probably paid very well to be dragged around like Paris Hilton's designer dog (but probably in less expensive outfits), and they came into their contracts with a complete understanding of what was expected of them. They knew when they signed up that they weren't to speak English while making public appearances with Gwen, and that they would be put in somewhat demeaning outfits.

Watching the videos of the girls on the harajuku website just left a bad taste in my mouth.


3) Time to sent Bush a gift...

I think its time for Bush to upgrade. He lost his Scooter, and that was sad. I hate the image of a little boy having his scooter stolen after his scooter revealed state secrets.

Wouldn't a segway be much better than a scooter? He could get around faster, and we wouldn't have to watch him biking and jogging on TV anymore! And hey, if the batteries die, he might flip over the handle bars and die.

Okay.. maybe he can't operate a segway, but watching him try would be fantastic.


So sorry about the roundup and all the links.
I just needed to get all that off my chest.

Ignorance Must Be Bliss...

As of tonight, TFG and I will have our tickets to Australia. I spent yesterday on the phone trying to get all the information, since TFG already has his ticket and I was scrambling to find a way to get on his flight. Part of it was talking with American Express rewards services.. The phone call went something like this:

Attendant: Hello and thank you for calling Am Ex how can I help you?
Me: Hi, I'm looking to redeem points to get a ticket from LAX to Brisbane Australia.
Attendant: Okay, one moment please.. And where is LAX?
Me: Umm.. Los Angeles?
Attendant: Ah, sorry of course. One moment....... I'm on expedia and I can't seem to get you a ticket to Brisbane, I can get you to Alice Springs, Adelaide, Canberra.

I'm starting to wonder why I'm talking to this woman if all she is going to do is go on expedia and why I could find a ticket there and she couldn't....

Me: Excuse me? You can fly me to Alice Springs but not Brisbane??
Attendant: Is that odd? How do you spell Brisbane?
Me: B-R-I-S-B-A-N-E
Attendant: ah, there we go, okay. You will have to call Virgin Atlantic Airlines, find out how many points it will cost, open an account with them and then call us back and transfer the points. They will then get you a ticket on Air New Zealand.

Seems a little complicated eh? Thats what I thought, so I figured I could ask seeing as she had been doing a bang up job so far...

Me: Is there a way I can get a ticket without transferring the points?
Attendant: (sounding disgusted with me) Well I suppose you could buy the ticket using cash dollars, but I assumed that since you called American Express Point redemption that you would want to use points.
Me: (getting ticked off) Yes, and that is what I expected to do. What I wanted to know was if I could book the ticket, on points, without transferring the points to ANOTHER carrier.
Attendant: OH. Sorry, no, you can't do that.
Me: Okay thanks bye.

Wanna Talk Shop?

Wanna talk about the inner workings of a computer operating system? or maybe how a company decides to get a new Information System?

Otherwise, right now I got nothing... Enjoy a funny picture though!

LA Times Editorial

Now we all know about the East coast/West coast gang rivalry's, but there is also a huge one between the NY and LA Times.

Whether you see this editorial as an indictment of a rival newspaper, or an interesting take on the current political situation I think everyone can enjoy this...


See full source here

---------------------------------------------------------

ROBERT SCHEER


What Judy forgot: Your right to know
November 1, 2005

THE MOST intriguing revelation of Special Prosecutor Patrick J. Fitzgerald's news conference last week was his assertion that he would have presented his indictment of I. Lewis "Scooter" Libby a year ago if not for the intransigence of reporters who refused to testify before the grand jury. He said that without that delay, "we would have been here in October 2004 instead of October 2005."

Had that been the case, John Kerry probably would be president of the United States today.

Surely a sufficient number of swing voters in the very tight race would have been outraged to learn weeks before the 2004 election that, according to this indictment, Vice President Dick Cheney's chief of staff — a key member of the White House team that made the fraudulent case for invading Iraq — "did knowingly and corruptly endeavor to influence, obstruct and impede the due administration of justice."

It is deeply disturbing that the public was left uninformed about such key information because of the posturing of news organizations that claimed to be upholding the free-press guarantee of the 1st Amendment. As Fitzgerald rightly pointed out, "I was not looking for a 1st Amendment showdown." Nor was one necessary, if reporters had fulfilled their obligation to inform the public, as well as the grand jury, as to what they knew of a possible crime by a government official.

How odd for the press to invoke the Constitution's prohibition against governmental abridgement of the rights of a free press in a situation in which a top White House official exploited reporters in an attempt to abridge an individual's right to free speech.

The spirit of a law is more important than the letter, but the reporters who fought to avoid testifying to the grand jury in the investigation that snared Libby upheld neither. They were acting as knowing accomplices to a top White House official's attempt to discredit a whistle-blower.

As the indictment makes clear, this was a case in which the reporters had direct knowledge relevant to the commission of a crime perpetrated by at least one top administration aide. "They're the eyewitness to the crime," Fitzgerald said.

In particular, the indictment makes a farce of the theatrics of New York Times reporter Judith Miller. She knew early on that Libby was using the media to punish former U.S. Ambassador Joseph C. Wilson IV for exposing President Bush's false claim that Iraq sought nuclear material from the African nation of Niger. According to the indictment, at a June 23, 2003, meeting with Miller, "Libby was critical of the CIA and disparaged what he termed 'selective leaking' by the CIA concerning intelligence matters. In discussing the CIA's handling of Wilson's trip to Niger, Libby informed her that Wilson's wife might work at a bureau of the CIA."

That paragraph from the indictment is key to this entire sordid affair. Wilson at that time was beginning to talk to reporters about one of the more egregious distortions in the president's State of the Union speech justifying the Iraq invasion — the 16-word fabrication about Saddam Hussein's nuclear intentions.

Libby, who had been a source for Miller's erroneous hyping in the New York Times of Iraq's WMD threat, was now attempting to shift blame to the Central Intelligence Agency by impugning Wilson's motives for stepping forth as a critic of the war.



INSTEAD OF confronting Libby for trying to mislead reporters, Miller did nothing to expose his efforts to smear a former ambassador for raising such questions. At the very least, she should have written a story stating that a White House official was planting information to disparage a critic of its war policy. Miller couldn't do that because she had acceded to Libby's demand that his White House connection be concealed in any articles she wrote, by identifying him as a "former [Capitol] Hill staffer."

This case was never about protecting government sources who risk their careers by telling the truth, but rather about punishing those like Wilson who do. That Miller cared far more about protecting someone who abused his power as the vice president's chief of staff than about protecting the right of Wilson to speak truth to power says volumes about her priorities.

That the New York Times again editorialized last week in defense of its knee-jerk support of Miller, even after knowing she deceived her editors, is a startling indication that even some of our most respected media leaders still are missing the point.

The 1st Amendment protection is not a license for mischief on the part of journalists eager to do the government's bidding. To the contrary, it was conceived by the founders to prevent government from subverting the free press in an effort to misinform the public. Unfortunately, that is precisely what occurred here.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE TFG!!

In honour of the TFG's birthday and the fact that I can't be there, a wee little gift via blogger. These are the lyrics to "our song" a little tune we heard performed at the Jason Mraz concert in Toronto.

"Well you done done me and you bet i felt it
I tried to be chill but you so hot that i melted
I fell right through the cracks and i'm tryin to get back
before the cool done run out i'll be givin it my bestest
and nothin's gonna stop me but divine intervention
I reckon it's again my turn to win some or learn some
but i won't hesitate no more,
no more, it cannot wait i'm yours
Well open up your mind and see like me
open up your plans and damn you're free
look into your heart and you'll find love love love
listen to the music of the moment maybe sing with me
Ah, la peaceful melody
It's your god forsaken right to be loved loved loved loved Loved
So, i won't hesitate no more,
no more, it cannot wait i'm sure
there's no need to complicate our time is short
this is our fate, i'm yours...."

and of course, what would a birthday be without a cake?

(thanks to Nick for getting the awful place mat out of the pic)

Happy 23rd birthday, you know, um... for the 4th time...