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21st Century Lesbian Trailer Trash

These are the mad musings of a middle aged woman, dyke, nurse, poet. I have a dog, a cat, a mobile home, and delusions of grandeur.

Location: California, United States

Friday, June 30, 2006

Cool Beans!

This week my boss brought me a calendar and an application for training classes from the Petsmart in my neighborhood. So while I was out and about this afternoon, I stopped in to sign up for one.

One of the classes said Puppy/Toy and I wasn't sure if it was for toy breed puppies or for puppies and toy breeds. I walked right into the trainer for the class, a sweet little lady named Bea. It turns out that it was going to be either/ or, depending on who expressed the most interest. She has another lady with 3 toys who wants the class. She told me that if I signed up Jaz she would make it a toy breed class.

Of course, I grabbed the opportunity. This class sounds much better. It's 8 weeks instead of 6 and the first class is owners only. No dogs. She explains what we will be doing with the dogs and gives us homework to help prepare them for the class.

When I walked up to the register to pay, the check out clerk (baby dyke if ever I saw one) said, "You're gonna love this class. I have my Jack Russell in one of her classes right now and after 4 weeks she was a whole different dog." Neato skeeto.

Some other things I did during my afternoon travels? Bought one of Starbucks new fruity frapuccinos. This one was a grande creamy tangerine. Very nice on a horribly hot day. Not quite as nice as the orange flavor that they had several years ago. But nice enough.

I also went to the grocery store and laid in some provisions for my little vacation. Blue corn chips and 5 layer bean dip. Aged cheddar and hot pepper jack cheeses. Salad fixin's. A roma tomato and basil foccacia. Wild mushroom and cheese ravioli. Strawberries. Whole grain nut bread. Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream. A bottle of Dry Creek Vineyard chardonnay. Peach mango sparkling water. Cracked pepper water crackers.

Then I stopped at the video store for a romantic comedy and a couple of dramas. All I need is a beautiful old woman in my bed and I'll be set. Most likely I'll have to be content with the dog and the cat.

How much work do you think I'll get done?

Thursday, June 29, 2006

Woman on the Edge

I cannot believe that I picked the absolute hottest time of the year to take some vacation time. It has been over 100 degrees every day for a week. I don't know where the temperature is being read but it's not here. The weather sites say that our high today was 93. Nope. It was 102. Last Sunday the staff tells me it was 110. On Monday it was 108. Our thermometers are in the shade.

This was not necessarily poor planning on my part. For one thing, usually August and September are the hottest months. Also, I was planning to attend my uncle's 75th birthday party in Illinois. That is, until I remembered I cannot stand his kids.

The air has been so hot that your skin burns when you walk into the sunlight. Yet it's so humid that clothes stick to your wet skin in hot, messy clumps of cloth. Even your toes sweat.

On Tuesday, just to tease, we got about 3 minutes of rain. Fat drops splashed around the earth and were soaked into nonexistence within nanoseconds. I yearned for cool mountain air. I dreamed of splashing in an ice filled pool.

I came home Tuesday evening to ants crawling all over the kitchen counter. Having nothing else to kill them with, I used flea and tick spray. It seemed to work.

This morning I overslept and didn't even make coffee. I stopped at 7-11 for a medium cup of black mountain blend and a large bottle of Propel fitness water with vitamins. Then I spent the day working like mad to begin my vacation early. I did not want to see the afternoon shift.

The thought of hearing one more complaint or solving one more problem made my head hurt. I put out the licensed nurse schedule for July on my way out last night. This morning, on the 29th of June, there were no less than 5 new requests in my box for July. What goes on in people's heads?

One of my nurses forgot that she had Jerry Seinfeldt tickets. How in the hell do you forget something like that?

Working with this bunch is like feeding a pride of starving lions. And the name of our unique facility mythology is Fifty First Dates. Every day is a new day. It's too darned bad that I can remember yesterday. Were it not for that I would probably be at least 50% less stressed.

I have lists and lists of things to accomplish on this few days off. I keep hearing my sister's voice in my head: "Yep. Make sure that place is clean and ready when I get there." Maybe I could postpone until 2030. She might be too old to make it by then.

I was thinking I might work on my typepad site. But I tend to overestimate my stamina. At this very moment in time, however, all I can think about is snow.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Now I'm Pissed

I just spent one hour writing a post and Blogger killed everything. The computer flipped out and shut down.

Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

If Only

This morning I took a page from Kelly and blended my Brazil Ipanema Bourbon with Boca Java New Media Maverick's. The New Media Mavericks gives just the right amount of body to ground the Ipanema Bourbon. The chocolately notes are a bonus.

As I was blog surfing this morning, I realized that if I would just untighten my fist a bit, I could buy a new computer and post cool pics like all of the big kids.

Someone asked a question on my Small Space Living message board this morning about articles of clothing that are no longer useful. I save them all. If I were more organized, I wouldn't do that. Of course I couldn't pull out that nifty little outfit at the last minute either.

I strive for uncluttered space. But my mind is so cluttered that walking through it in the morning is like trying to weave my way out of a maze long enough to find the bathroom so that I can shower.

If only I were a different person, my life might be easier. I try to comfort myself with the idea that I probably wouldn't be so much fun.

Monday, June 26, 2006

Trash Talk & Coffee

I'm drinking the Brazil Ipanema Bourbon again this morning. It's rich but has such wonderfully crisp and fruity notes for summer enjoyment.

The weather is hot! It was 84 degrees outside when I checked the thermometer at 0730. I do not have central air. I do have a swamp cooler in the ceiling of my dining room which helps tremendously. It's also very cheap to run. But I'm thinking about investing in a portable AC.

For your morning amusement:

Barnyardmama has a Fashion Cheat Sheet on her site. This is a must for those of us who wish to be fashionable as well as for those of us who wish to criticize the fashion choices of those we don't like.

Dreams etc is my newest favorite mommy blog. She has one post where she not only uses the word fuck no less than 8 times; she also calls her nasty neighbor Pigeon Cunt. It doesn't get much better than that.

I am a big fan of bad language and potty humor. It leaves me rolling on the floor like a quivering puddle of jello. I grew up with 4 siblings and minimal supervision. Also, my mom laughed at stupid jokes. The dumber the joke, the harder she laughed. When it comes to bad humor, I'm like one of Pavlov's dogs.

For those of you with a more serious bent, I do have a serious topic lined up. But it's Monday morning. I figure most of us could use a little silliness to start the week.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

A Perfect Day

I spoke with my sister last night about our Hawaii trip. We ended up talking about things like The Family Jowels, Mom Arms (those flabby old lady arms that no amount of exercise will correct), and the care of aging teeth. Finally K said "Good grief. We're talking like a couple of old ladies. We've talked about everything but our bowels. Are yours moving?"

My sister is a funny grrl. She is 14 months younger than I and has lived to harass me for as long as I can remember. Our other sister is a kinder, gentler sort of sister.

While we were talking, they were in the midst of one of those wonderful Michigan thunderstorms that I have always loved. Summer thunderstorms are the one thing I miss about Michigan. That and the spectacular summer greenery. She opened the door so that I could hear the rain and I was momentarily jealous.

But today was one of those heartbreakingly beautiful California days. It was quite warm but there was a light breeze blowing. LavenderDE claimed that she could smell the ocean as we headed out for lunch.

On Thursday evenings out here in Redneck Country, our little town has free concerts at the local mall. Tonight was classic rock.

My friend Dixie and I like to meet at the Starbucks that is right next to the concert pit. She has the passion fruit iced tea with lemonade and blackberry. I like the blackberry green tea frapuccino.

Parking was tight and as I walked across the lot, the wind kissed my face reminding me of the Trade Winds that flow in and around the Hawaiian Islands. The air was perfect and the sun was as bright as noon time just before sunset.

We just sat there on the mall with about 500 other folks sipping our drinks, tapping to the music, and reveling in the sweetness of it all. All of the stress, the aggravation, and the turmoil of life and of work simply ceased to exist.

I truly do live in paradise.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

When All Else Fails, Steal It

My get up and go got up and went. That's what the old folks used to say when I was young. I am on my way to an all day Director of Nursing meeting, corporate style.

In the meantime my brain locked at the stress of spending one week trying to fill 4 licensed nurse slots for today when all of them are already working double shifts.

So here are some comments and questions posed around the world wide web that caught my eye during the last week or so:

Why don't children have the fundamental right to a good adoptive home if one exists? A Florida judge says that
they don't. Read the entire article.

Did you know that Twisty's comments on
fellatio caused a veritable firestorm over at I Blame the Patriarchy? Personally, I don't care who does it. But it is interesting how many folks think that it's just another form of patriotism.

And according to
MochaMomma, McDonald's new premium coffee tastes like ass. The one thing she and I agree on this morning is that it's a good BloggersFuel day. I'm drinking New Media Mavericks and it's delicious.

Happy Hump Day.

Sunday, June 18, 2006

Coffee For Sale

Rummaging through my cupboards I find that I have about 15 different kinds of coffee. It looks as though several tiny mice had a caffeine orgy.

No way do I want to drink all of that coffee. It's like eating the crumbs from the bottom of the cheerio box. But at least one half of my genes are pack rat genes.

Some things I can toss with impunity. Other items appear destined to live with me forever. I hate to throw away perfectly good coffee. But for me it has seen its day. Time to move on to newer, richer blends. Fresh beans still shiny with their natural oils.

This got me to thinking about garage sales. Someone would love an eighth or a quarter of a pound of classy coffee for twenty-five cents. I could assuage my guilt about all of those coffee-less workers in China. And I could make some money to boot.

These are some of the things I could send to garage sale heaven:

3 printers; one a 4 in one.

2 hard drives.

1 monitor. Clunky but usable.

More clothes than I could wear in an entire season without wearing the same thing twice. Never mind that some of them have been piling up since 1973. Someone might find use for them.

Books long ago read and never to be touched again.

The ex-housemate's nasty green couch.

Housewares, gadgets, knick knacks, and doo dads so long stuffed away that I do not even recognize them as belonging to me.

Half burned candles.

The gigantic rack of bath salts and bath oils I received as a gift and will never use. I'll bet I could get $10 for that one.

This is just one more reason to love coffee. It is so inspiring.

Saturday, June 17, 2006

The Long Goodbye

I knew that it would be hard to let go. I just didn't realize it would be this difficult. Jaz went to the groomer today. It is the first time I have seen Rika since Maggie died. Rika didn't know. She and I both got pretty weepy as we talked about her.

"You take such good care of Maggie," she said, putting her hand on her heart. "I'm sad too." Rika has been grooming Maggie for about 5 years.

Then I had to stop off at the vet's to pick up Jaz's shot records. R had not yet transferred the records over to my account. Just walking into the office was difficult. I have used this vet for about 12 years for a number of animals. And though each loss was hard, somehow losing Maggie has been the deepest cut.

When I came home I called R to remind her about transferring the records over to me. She was sad too. Yesterday was Jaz's second birthday. "We thought about her all day. We miss her so much. Please give her a kiss for me."

After I hung up, I really started to cry. I lost my sweet Maggie. The Universe gave me a gift. But that gift is someone else's loss. So often life just doesn't seem fair.

Maybe it is these hurts that hone our compassion and keep us honest.

Friday, June 16, 2006

$200 A Plate?

Dang! I got sort of forced into going to this round table dinner last night for psychiatrists and allied health professionals. A really nice drug rep kept pushing me. When she said $200 a plate I figured that it would at least be a really good free dinner.

Dave and Gary were going too. So why not?

It was a nice evening with wonderful food. I had the salmon. The presentation of the food was impressive. So was the taste. They even had this very cool cheesecake that was round with whipped cream and a raspberry candy on top, a little chocolate cookie thing, and raspberry syrup and chocolate swirled in a fancy pattern on the plate.

But I was still trying to figure out where the $200 price tag came from.

We had a pleasant evening and I learned some new things about clozapine. That's the "miracle" antipsychotic that was supposedly going to make schizophrenics normal. I won't bore you with all of that. It's a good drug but the Movie of the Week didn't exactly tell the whole story.

The $200, it turns out, is the honorarium that will be mailed to me at some time in the future.

That's probably just about what it will cost me to have my carpets cleaned.

Jaz was pissed off. So pissed off that she is still holding a grudge this morning. To add insult to injury, I locked her behind the gate in the kitchen for about 30 minutes because she wouldn't pee on her pee pad.

Now we all know that dogs empty their bladders first thing in the morning. Which means she emptied hers elsewhere before I caught her.

Right now she is sleeping on my right foot while I type.

Well. The carpets needed cleaning anyway.

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Is Simply Gay Good Enough?

Let me see if I can get this straight. (This pun was not intended but laugh if you are so moved. It works here).

HomoMojo has a new look. And it is there that I found a link to a blog entry regarding the Advocate's survey asking us queer folk if gay is OK. Or perhaps we prefer something like LGBT.

Without further ado, I give you the young man over on
Proceed At Your Own Risk :

The Advocate has too much time on its hands and is spearheading a campaign to replace "Gay" with LGBT or GLBTQ.

"Mom, Dad, I have something to tell you. I'm LGBT."

"Have you tried one of the new super-antibiotics?"

Personally, I'm content with Gay and Queer. But we could go back to confirmed bachelor and maiden aunt.

Later in the day this same bright fella turned me on to a theory of homosexuality posited by a biologist by the name of Joan Roughgarden. I went to the original article:

From the JUN/JUL 2006 issue of
Seed Magazine:
Credit: Catherine Ledner

Joan Roughgarden thinks Charles Darwin made a terrible mistake. Not about natural selection—she's no bible-toting creationist—but about his other great theory of evolution: sexual selection. According to Roughgarden, sexual selection can't explain the homosexuality that's been documented in over 450 different vertebrate species. This means that same-sex sexuality—long disparaged as a quirk of human culture—is a normal, and probably necessary, fact of life. By neglecting all those gay animals, she says, Darwin misunderstood the basic nature of heterosexuality...

Roughgarden, a professor of biology at Stanford University and a MTF TG person, published a book 2 years ago called Evolution's Rainbow in which she outlines and explains this theory.

Although the good professor discusses homosexual behavior as a kind of social glue found in more evolved species, it was this particular bit of animal erotica that rocked my lesbian world:

Japanese macaques, an old world primate, illustrate this principle perfectly. Macaque society revolves around females, who form intricate dominance hierarchies within a given group. Males are transient. To help maintain the necessary social networks, female macaques engage in rampant lesbianism. These friendly copulations, which can last up to four days, form the bedrock of macaque society, preventing unnecessary violence and aggression. Females that sleep together will even defend each other from the unwanted advances of male macaques. In fact, behavioral scientist Paul Vasey has found that females will choose to mate with another female, as opposed to a horny male, 92.5% of the time. While this lesbianism probably decreases reproductive success for macaques in the short term, in the long run it is clearly beneficial for the species, since it fosters social stability. "Same-sex sexuality is just another way of maintaining physical intimacy," Roughgarden says. "It's like grooming, except we have lots of pleasure neurons in our genitals. When animals exhibit homosexual behavior, they are just using their genitals for a socially significant purpose."

Well, that was fun.

As far as theories go however, I like the one that a friend of mine stumbled across many years ago. According to her, there is a biological imperative for lesbianism. Back in the Stone Age, when people dropped like flies, it made sense to have women in the clan with no interest in the rituals of procreation but a great interest in mothering should bio-mom not make it home from the mastadon hunt.

Be that as it may, the Advocate can call me whatever it likes. A lesbian by any other name smells just as sweet. But for some reason, this whole thing brought to mind the image of the one-eyed one-horned flying purple people eater. Except in my song she's called a flying purple pussy eater.

Apropos of Nothing

No one. And I do mean NO one can give you the evil eye like a very pregnant and very pissed off 6 foot (in spike heels) Latina with her aged and weeping mother in tow. Actually, her mother is about my age but she sure plays her part well.

Not only was I, with the toss of a chesnut mane, deemed too stupid to live; I was also, judging by the alarming and unparalleled rolling of big brown eyes, declared not worthy of notice.

She certainly was not going to translate this sorry ass gringa's English to sully her mother's ears and perhaps bring her again to tears.

Such is my life as someone who sometimes likes to believe that she is in charge.

Breast Cancer Screw You Fest

So our friend Twisty over at I Blame the Patriarchy has been dealing with breast cancer for awhile now. Being that she is so young, she dished out something like $4,000 to be tested for the BRCA2 gene. Which she has. Which means she has some heavy duty surgery ahead.

But that's not the worst part. Here is Sola's response to Twisty's entry:

Jun 11th, 2006 at 9:41 am

Here’s one way the patriarchy comes into it: BRCA2 has been patented by Myriad, the company that “found” it. This means lots of things, including:

Myriad owns a little speck in each and every one of your cells. Thanks to our “everything is a product” mindset, if someone can make money from a gene, they can claim to own it and sell rights to it. Never mind that the gene is in your body and is in fact inseparable from you.

Since they “own” the gene, Myriad gets to charge whatever the hell they want to charge for the test that identifies it. This charge doesn’t appear to be based on the actual costs they incur in doing the test. Instead, it seems to be based on what women are willing to pay.

Myriad did a market research in about 1997, when the test was new. They had a contractor call high-risk women, including me, to ask them how much they would be willing to pay for such a test. They wanted to know how desperate we were to find out the truth and how much we would fork over to get the answer. (I told them I wouldn’t pay them one f*ing dime.) They don’t give a shit about whether our insurance will or won’t pay for the test. They just want to know what price they can get from their market.

This means that each and every one of us is being held hostage by this biotech company. Most insurance companies won't pay for the test. It would seem that it is cheaper to treat some of us while we are dying than it is to test all of us who might fall into the risk group. Here's a little something I found over at the link provided by Sola:

Myriad has received patents for two genes, BRCA-1 and BRCA-2, used to perform a cancer screening tests. According to the firm's SEC Form 10-K, "BRCA-1 and BRCA-2 appear to be responsible for approximately 84% of the early onset hereditary breast cancer and approximately 90% of hereditary ovarian cancer." Myriad has licensed the rights to perform these tests to about a dozen laboratories in exchange for very high royalties on each test performed. (The federal government brokered a deal to pay lower royalties when the genes are used by NCI and NIH-sponsored research institutions and investigators.) Myriad is currently trying to enforce patents on the BRCA-1 and BRCA-2 genes in Europe and Canada, which is has led to a lot of controversy in their public health communities because this would raise the price of testing for cancer considerably.

Just a little something to take with your morning coffee.

Monday, June 12, 2006

The Blue Funks

Haven't posted in a few days, primarily because I had nothing interesting to say. I did a lot of web surfing and blog hopping. Collected lots of interesting snippets. Enjoyed a few laughs and got my blood stirring with some reports of the usual injustices.

But I simply did not have it in me to post. I realized that the Blue Funks had me by the short hairs.

The Blue Funks put you right down into the depths of self pity and self loathing. The old tapes start playing and before you know it you're a snot nosed mess:

Not good enough. Not organized enough. Lazy. Unloveable. Not nice. A failure...

If I could put those tapes to music I'd have a great country song. But I wasn't born that talented so I was forced to find other ways to cope. One of the good things about being my age and having nearly 3 decades on the couch is that I know the Blue Funks won't last forever. My mother used to call stuff like that "regression in the service of the ego."

There's something roiling around there in my empty pea brain but it will be awhile before I figure it out. Life, apparently, is a series of bumps in the road. So I forced myself to do a few constructive activities.

I had my nails done. I had my hair cut. Both way overdue. I shopped for groceries. I finished half of my CEU's to renew my nursing license. I did the dishes. I half heartedly mopped my kitchen floor.

But mostly I played with the dog, read, and watched some movies. I did make a Starbucks run for one of those scrumptious banana mocha frappuccinos. (Oh yeah. You're fat and you're mother dresses you funny).

It never helps that on most Sundays (don't ask me why) my nurses harass me from morning to night. Most of it yesterday was forgiveable. They are so stressed out with the overtime that it's necessary to prop them up emotionally to keep them going.

Here it is, Monday morning. While I'm not exactly prepped and ready to do battle, I do feel more or less human. So. Fortified with Starbucks Papua New Guinea I'm ready to face the workplace.

Wish me luck comadres and compadres. And may all of your Blue Funks be short lived.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

When Filipinas Cook

I'm drinking Starbucks Gold Coast blend this morning because I needed a strong jolt to wake me up. My birthday was great. But I was forced to eat so much food that I had trouble falling asleep. I ended up taking something and didn't wake up until 0830.

So what am I still doing here? Well, I just haven't had a break in several months now and my body is screaming:

"Bitch! Don't you do that to me. Hear?"

So I am moving as fast as I can but that means a break between brushing my teeth and getting in the shower. Then I have to decide if I have the muscle power to wash my hair.

I truly did not have one drop of alcohol to celebrate the day.

The department managers took me to the Olive Garden for lunch where I pigged out on soup, salad, and breadsticks.

Later on, in the early evening, the nurses threw a little surprise party for me with a huge feast that included pansit, menudo, cassava cake, custard, a melon punch, and a 7 layer bean dip. Of course I had to pig out again because I learned, early on in my nursing career that when a Filipina offers you food, you don't refuse.

When I first arrived at my facility 3 years ago, all of my nurses were white except for one black nurse. This is remarkable in southern California. I spent my entire career here being in a minority among large populations of Philipino nurses.

It was a difficult marriage. In my natural state, I tend to be far too aggressive, open, and blunt to suit the tastes of the average Philipino. But as the years passed and as I adapted, I came to find that I had some dear friends within that community. Because when you have won the respect of a Philipino nurse, and if you never cause them to lose face, you will have an ally for life.

Josie is one such nurse. I worked with her when she was a nursing assistant in a home care agency and right away I knew she was special. Like many Filipina nursing assistants, she was a baccalaureate RN in her country. And it took her almost 20 years while raising her family to regain that status here in the United States.

I happened to help her secure her first job as a licensed nurse here in San Diego. And when she passed the RN board last year, I immediately hired her on as my assistant.

Josie is the one who made sure that we had a baby shower for our pregnant nurse. She arranged my surprise party and cooked a huge amount of food for the pot luck. She stayed up until midnight Monday night then arrived at her other job yesterday morning at 7 a.m. They are in the midst of State survey right now.

She had a very bad day. She called me to ask me to wait for her and then ranted into the phone. "I'm so piss off!" she screamed into her cell phone. I couldn't understand the whole story but it seems she felt horribly betrayed by a Filipina supervisor at this other job.

Another thing I have learned about her culture is that if you are in any way a maverick, you can be ostracized by the community at large. And even if you aren't entirely comfortable with the whole of your culture, most of us don't want to be told that we cannot go home anymore.

So here's my friend at one of the lowest points in her career when she realizes that she has been set up by one of her own.

What could I do but stay and eat the food that she so lovingly prepared? On a full stomach I gorged some more. Which is why I was still tossing and turning at 1 a.m.

But it made Josie happy. And that my friends, is a small price to pay.

Monday, June 05, 2006

Monday? Again?

I am much happier when the week includes a holiday Monday. But I have rectified that by planning to take this coming Friday off. Finally, a little extra break after the Survey Madness. I teach the last classes today.

This morning I am trying Brazil Ipanema Bourbon from Starbucks. I can almost hear the song. It's a well balanced, medium body coffee with a pleasing flavor for early morning. Taking a cue from my Late Night Log In coffee experience, I added more beans than usual and the result was as I had hoped.

My jaded taste buds were able to discern the nuttiness that was promised.

Jaz and I went to visit the boy and his mom. It was a joyous reunion and I think they were relieved to see that she is well, happy, and bonding with me. But she sure knew where she was going. She almost leapt out of the car window when we pulled into the parking lot.

It's definitely an open adoption. I'll try to remember to take my camera the next time. I'd love to have a picture of Jaz and her buddy.

Sunday, June 04, 2006

Must Have Been an Off Day

I tried the BloggersFuel Late Night Log In again this morning. Boca Java and Bruce have been so nice to me that I decided this coffee deserved a second chance. And this time, I used about 50% more beans than I did the last time.

What a difference a bean makes. Properly made, it is bold, rich, and smooth, just as advertised. This South American and Island blend was very satisfying. As an added bonus, it is not at all acidic. Thanks Bruce! I thoroughly enjoyed this morning's coffee experience.

Bits & Pieces

Twisty has this to say about the new dyke on the block, Batwoman:

But no. Batwoman is clearly just one of those straight chicks who gets drunk at parties and wants to make out with the real dykes. Which only enhances her whack-off appeal, I suppose, since cultivating an addiction to looking at pictures of hot straight women pretending to get it on is a man-law. Pardon my French.

Lorraine, over at Me and the Cat, posted some great bumper stickers. I liberated my favorites:



GOD BLESS EVERYONE (No exceptions)


IS IT 2008 YET?



Over on Matrifocus there is a profoundly moving and thought provoking piece by Carolyn Gage called Marilyn Monroe's Shoes. If you care about women, about children, or about the issues of sexual abuse, read this article.

And lastly, from the Progressive, if you think that your government is not trying to tie you up like a pretzel, think about the librarian who received a National Security Letter from the FBI.

These letters are an extraordinarily powerful tool in the hands of the FBI. Basically, they amount to subpoenas the Justice Department issues by itself, without having to go to a judge for approval. When they were first authorized in the 1970s, the FBI was required to have “ ‘specific and articulable’ reasons to believe the records it gathered in secret belonged to a terrorist or spy,” Barton Gellman reported for The Washington Post on November 6, 2005. But thanks to the Patriot Act, the FBI can slap these letters not only on terrorist suspects but on anyone who is “relevant” to a national security investigation, even those “who are not alleged to be terrorists or spies...

Federal Marriage Amendment: Vote No!

Thanks to Tookie for this heads up. Your Senators will be voting on the Federal Marriage Amendment on Tuesday.

Just say NO! You can have
postcards sent to your Senators via the Human Rights Campaign website.

You can also call (202) 224 - 3121 and ask to leave a message on your Senator's voice mail.

Spread the word. This is about much more than gay rights. It's about the rights of all of us as citizens to have a say in how, when, and why the Constitution shall be amended.

The FMA threatens to write discrimination into the Constitution for the first time in over 200 years. We as citizens ought not to stand for this.

Saturday, June 03, 2006

Tootin' My Own Horn

Friday, June 02, 2006

Like a Rock

No. Not that kind of rock. More like the kind of rock that someone ties around your neck before they drop you to the bottom of the ocean. Greymatters over at Lobal Warming alerted me to the sad tale of the VP's daughter.

Mary Cheney's book has so far failed abysmally. Her publisher must be pooping bricks. For a one million dollar advance, less than 4,100 sold as of May 25.

Well, didn't they read it before they published it? Poor Mary only goes to prove that the words REPUBLICAN and DYKE do not really belong in the same sentence.

I'll send you to Pam's House Blend. She comments so much more smartly than I could. What is it about lesbians named Pam?

Kinja, the weblog guide

Thursday, June 01, 2006


Well. This is disheartening.

Kinja, the weblog guide

More This & That

From Adrenaline's Shadow:

It's hotter than two rats fucking in a wool sock.

And it's probably going to get hotter. This promises to be a miserable summer heat wise. I was hoping for something more like Mutiny on the Bounty; storms and high seas. But I don't think it will happen in my life time.

The last 2 months of my life have sucked. By Monday I was having my first panic attack in over 20 years. And by Wednesday, I had convinced myself that I was dying of colon cancer.

Then I realized that there was an easy fix. Don't work more than 8 hours per day. Why do I work? My dog. My health insurance. My 401k. Everything else is moot.

This is what I heard from one of my nurses yesterday as she came bawling down the hall. "I'm just exhausted from my 2 days off."

And this is my problem because.....?

Today, the same nurse got snippy with me, insinuating that she was too busy to listen to what I had to say. I'm going to yank her by the short hairs so hard when I have the chance to counsel her she'll be singing coloratura.

I talked to Jaz' mom tonight. She didn't expect to miss her so much. I'm going to take her over to their house on Saturday so they can visit and see that she's doing OK.

The only other thing I need to do is figure out how to break it to my boss that I am taking another long weekend very soon. And I won't be taking calls. Even though I have vacation in July.

Eat my dust you little pissants.

Kinja, the weblog guide

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