Recovering from Thanksgiving

When I was a little girl, Thanksgiving was not one of my favorite holidays. It was actually pretty low on the list. The list went something like this:

1. Christmas
2. Easter
3. Independence Day
4. New Year's Day
5. New Year's Eve
6. Christmas Eve
7. St. Patrick's Day
8. Halloween
9. Mother's Day
10. Groundhog Day
11. Father's Day
12. Thanksgiving

Over the years, some of the more adult holidays made their way up the list and St. Patrick's Day is a bit special for Savannah – it's not that I am Irish. Point being that Thanksgiving was not really that enjoyable for me. But as I have matured, I have really started enjoying the holiday.

Every second or third year, I work at one of the homeless shelters. There is something very rewarding in serving those less fortunate than us. I enjoy the church homilies, the family gatherings, the food, and even the shopping the day after Thanksgiving.

I always sensed that the adults enjoyed the holiday more than me. When you have food, football games, family and conversation, as a child, it is a bit of a yawner. Actually, perhaps it is a bit better for the guys. At least they got to play touch football in the backyard after the dinner. I was on "clean up" duty. Not sure why a uterus is necessary to clear the table, put away the food and wash the dishes, but when I was growing up, I did not question such things.

And several days later, I think I still have a tryptophan-induced content feeling. I hope my boss does not think he will get any work out of me today.

Leesa's Mailbag: Issue 1

I was looking at some things I did on my blog last week, and here are a couple of things that did not stand the test of time (they ended up being sort of lame):

1. YouTube Reviews. I started writing YouTube videos in December 2006, initially because I discovered it for myself and I wanted to give people exposure to their videos. I try posting them on Saturday, and you can see previous reviews by clicking on my YouTube label. But then I got bored with it. Perhaps I will write a YouTube video review every once in a while. We will see.

2. Web 2.0 Commentary. I have start writing certain blog entries that deal with Web 2.0. Mostly blogging and vlogging stuff, but I hope to add value to this important topic.

I think the YouTube reviews were lame for two reasons: (1) writing about homemade videos is more boring that watching homemade videos, and (2) I had to watch a lot of YouTube videos. The reason Web 2.0 fell out of favor was that I really did not know a lot about it.

Well, I am trying a new weekly, monthly or semi-annual blog entry called "Leesa's Mailbag." It will depend on the interest. Over the last few years, people have emailed me with questions, and I have answered them on an individual basis. Now, I think I will answer them on a blog entry. Perhaps Friday. Not sure I will get enough questions to do this often, but I will try to answer questions. Sort of an Ann Landers with attitude. Just write to the following email address:

Here are some questions answered in recent comments:

Knot wrote: I used to have a friend who told some of the most convincing stories. Not sure how many of them were real, but I guess 60% were false.

Leesa's answer: It is simple math. If you know what percentage of them were false, you can calculate the percentage of them which were real. The calculation follows:

Real % = 100% - False %

If 60% were false, then 40% would be real. But don't worry, love, congress has the same problem when balancing the budget. Of course, their confusion costs us money.

Funny thing was that I looked at a bunch of other answers I gave, and they were all not funny and a bit boring. Now I am wondering if doing this will be sort of like my other endeavors (see YouTube Reviews and Web 2.0 Commentaries above).

Followers
A few weeks ago, I mentioned a new Blogger gadget (I think they call them widgets) called "follower." I actually found a blog using the widget who had no followers at the time. That made me sort of sad.

And I got a question on followers: Anonymous wrote: how does this follower thing work?

Leesa's answer: Looks like Google/Blogger has a new widget for this. They wrote about it in August, actually, but I am sure many of us don't read "The Official Blogger Buzz."I think it is a way to stalk people. It might not be as satisfying as going onto their page and refreshing every few minutes, while cackling maniacally, but it still does the job.

One Percenters

Last week, I wrote about something I overheard in a fast food joint. Larry had the following observation:

There is a different number motorcycle gangs use to describe themselves, its the "1%" often inside a diamond, or "One-Percenters", which comes from the Brando movie "The Wild One", where when asked about the life depicted in the movie, the American motorcycle assoc said that the 1% of these bad characters give motorcylcing a bad name.

My current wife was a friend of Sonny Barger, the Oakland Hells Angel Chapter founder. She was at the Altamonte festival when they were providing security for the concert for the Stones. While living in the Oakland CA area, she meet lots of entertainers that liked to associated with them, Willie, Waylon, Kris, Johhny and Hank Jr.

And Larry has an interesting point.

We all have our experiences; we tend to assume that what we have experienced is "normal." From an old stats class, I translate normal to "68% of the population."I think that is one standard deviation for a normal distribution. But we aren't all normal; at least I don't think I am normal.

For instance, let's say you go to a football game. Georgia verses Georgia Tech. You notice that the Georgia fans are a bunch of animals. You assume all Georgia fans are animals. But that may not be the case.

Similarly, at work, one of your coworkers happens to be lesbian. She is also a Goth and perhaps Wiccan as well. You may conclude that all Goth-Wiccans are lesbians. And you would be wrong. Sure, they may have books on Gerald Gardner, and even have a large stash of porn, but that does not make it so.

Our minds really try and reconcile what we experience with what we believe. If one of your arch-enemies does a kindness to you, you might believe there is an ulterior motive.

What is the lesson to learn from this? Perhaps nothing. Perhaps, however, if you are a member of a group that is quite visible and you do stupid stuff, perhaps your actions will be painting a picture for those of us who are not embedded in your group.

Straying in a Relationship

Years ago, I strayed in my relationship with my husband. At the time, I was unaware as to why I strayed. Through a bit of counseling, some powerful psychotropic drugs, and several heart-to-heart conversations, we started working in the right direction.

When I did not really know I strayed, I could tell my husband was not heading to the divorce lawyer but was thinking about it. He would deny this to this day – but I can tell. I think he was this way for two important reasons:

1. I really did not understand why I went from loyal wife to cheating hussy. And if I didn't understand why I did this, I can't fix this in our relationship. I would not normally use "fix" but I am thinking from his point-of-view.

2. Until he found out, he had not a clue I was cheating. My actions towards him did not change while I was cheating, so I am sure he was unsure if he would pick up such clues if I began straying again.

These two things, more than anything else, really kept us from seeking some sort of closure for my infidelity.

I did do some things right. I owned up to the indiscretion. I listened to him talk about how it made him feel, even though I wanted to interject certain facts in my defense. I got professional help quickly – and as luck would have it, I found a faith-based counselor that really helped me to see things in a way that spoke to me.

Almost a year after my affair was made known to my husband, he strayed. I knew he did from the start – I read him so easily. It took him about a week to fess up after I dropped a hint that his behavior had changed.

In a way, getting over his indiscretion was easier to do. His reason (more of a vengeful, you cheated so I wanted to try it out/hurt you) was simpler to address, and since I knew the signs, he knows he will probably not be able to get away with it if he tries again. He also knows that we are all out of chances. Two strikes, if you will.

I have shared my story to a co-worker who I knew was getting friendly with someone else in the office. I told her, in unglamorous terms, about my own experiences. She cheated anyway. She got caught eventually, and then quit the company. Not sure if she is still married. She did say that she wish she would have listened to me, but things just continued to happen. Yeah, I have been there before.

Not sure why I wrote about this today . . . .

Eavesdropping at a Fast Food Restaurant

A couple of weeks ago, I was at a fast food restaurant – part of a large chain. It was the middle of a Saturday, and I was just grabbing a bite to eat at a location I do not frequent. Actually, the location was in a "bad part of town." Not bad enough for me to hold my pee and continue to the next area, if you know what I mean.

So I was sitting by myself, reading a book and eating. I always carry a book or two in the car. I don't mind eating by myself, but need to have a diversion. I almost always have a book in the car, a stack next to my bed, and others casually thrown throughout the house. When I was in school, I would buy Oxford Pocket Classics – can you imagine having a book, a classic, in your purse? Oh, am I geekish.

I am reading and here a rather large man taking to a family of four. I am going to call the big¹ man Frank. Not sure he is a Frank, but let's just do it to give him a name. Everyone deserves a name.

In the course of talking to the family, Frank learns about a guy they mutually know. Frank says that he was the other guy in the backyard story. Non-descript, I know, but that's what he said at first.

Then he talks about some associates, associated with a club known as the 81s. And he asks the family if they know what the 81s are. Luckily for me, they don't know, and he said the numbers represent the letters in the alphabet. But he says nothing more. HA, and I think of things it could be. It didn't take more than a minute to think "Hell's Angels."I could have googled it if I was at work, but the ol' brain still works.

Over the course of the conversation, he goes back to the backyard experience. A little more light is shed. He told the family that he knew they would be okay because "they can't do ballistics on shotguns."

Instantly, I casually look for the entrance. All clear. This guy is freaking me out.

I stay planted because I am interested and afraid.

I hear more about Frank's life – that he held a gun at someone's head because they touched his jacket. And he was not mad at the guy; he just did not want to be touched. Or how he would fight with others. He was a rough guy.

And I can't get it out of my head that he admitted to others that he and a friend killed two people in a backyard. I start to think about what to do with this information. How do I inform the police without having him know anything about me?

And then I remember something else he said. That he had a try-out with the NY Jets. Not that he tried out with them, but that they called him. I have known a couple of football players. They would have dwarfed this man. He played nose tackle and center. I can't remember which is which – I mean, one is defensive line, one is offensive line. But I can't remember which side of the line plays bigger. Point is, the guy had to be lying about the NY Jets. Not sure if he was lying about the backyard.

Just makes me feel better to have that as a possibility.

---

¹ A bit overweight, and I am being a tad kind, actually – not helpful, I know, when I am describing a scene.

Fish and Chips without the Fishies

I was told about a story of Sperm Donor shortage in the UK. The first thing that leaped to my mind was, "why the heck did the guy forward the article to me". I mean, does he want me to know because if I somehow travel to England and want to get knocked up while visiting a sperm bank, there may be a line? Okay, so this may not be about me personally, and I almost lost interest. Almost.

But then I started thinking. Dangerous, I know, but I started thinking about sperm banks and related problems.

When I was in college, I knew a couple of guys who would donate blood every six weeks or so. I think they were paid $12 for their donations. The blood was tested, or course, and it went into circulation. And these two guys I knew did it for the beer money. I mean, they were broke, but they would donate a pint every month or so to get beer money. Plus, as an added bonus, they could get wasted really quickly after they donated. Not the brightest bulbs, mind you. Perhaps they are managing hedge funds (and making millions) now.

I gave blood as well, not as often, and all I would get is a cookie and a white t-shirt. Perhaps some juice. And a warning not to do anything too strenuous for the next 24 hours. I would donate twice a year, at the times when blood bank trucks blocked the entrance to the library. They shamed me into giving. A good friend of mine was 102 pounds and anemic. I envied her at blood bank time.

Now I don't know a lot about sperm banks. Only what I have read in porn. And I would imagine you still don't get the cream of the crop, no pun intended, when you ask for sperm donors. I mean, you are asking for guys to masturbate into a beaker to old tittie magazines for money.

And it just occurred to me that some of these guys are making donations frequently. Perhaps for beer money. And they are not just donating a bit of semen. They are donating genetic material that actually may make a person. I mean, some alcoholic may be donating his genetics to a whole classroom of children. And he may be doing this every time he needs beer money.

With blood, you have to wait every 6 weeks for a new donation. With sperm donation, I don't think the wait is nearly as long.

And if two products of artificial insemination meet and marry. Well, they could be genetic siblings. I am not sure there is a term for "unintentional inbreeding", but perhaps someone ought to think of one. I mean, Dolly the Sheep was created in Scotland. I mean, I am a geographically challenged American, but Scotland is part of the UK, right? What is it with the UK and avoiding sex to make babies? Must be a Church of England thing.

On Marriage

A witty blogger I rarely follow wrote about her 2-1/2 year anniversary. Okay, when I was married, I celebrated my one month, two month, and six month anniversaries. At almost three months, I became a bit nauseated at the monthly anniversaries – the gifts were just not worth me cooking a fancy dinner, getting in a nice dress, and spending a lot of time on hair and makeup, coordinating lingerie, etc., when we ended up dancing horizontally. New hubbie basically showed up for a nice meal, a pretty wife and a night of passionate sex. He actually liked the anniversaries. Imagine that?

I still don't understand a 2-1/2 year anniversary. But that's okay. I also don't understand why people will pay a dollar to vote for someone on television but don't vote for a governor, senator or the president.

But you know, Jill is sort of lucky. She found her husband and they were allowed to get married.

But you know, there are lots of people who don't get the opportunity to get married. I was looking up marriage laws, and I was surprised to find that Mississippi had a law that you had to be 21, unless by parental consent. Some of the states say "written parental consent," and my mind leaps to signing one's own report card in school. Why not sign some type of consent document as well.

But I am not talking about minors. I am talking about the whole Proposition 8 deal that was in the news lately. Not my state, but certainly I have been thinking about it. Living in Georgia, I really should not care what they do in California. I like states rights. For me, if a state wants to make the death penalty illegal, that's fine by me. Same thing concerning marriage. Sort of, I guess. I mean, if I get married in Georgia, I want to make sure I am married in California, Florida or South Dakota. Can you imagine your spouse going to a meeting in Nevada, and your marriage not being valid in that state? I mean, all of those hookers and single women/men? Ouch.

For me, my religion says "man + woman" for marriage. I don't agree with it, but I also think the Pope's hat looks a bit outdated. What 'cha going to do? But my church also believes that gluttony is a sin. And I think it is fine that McDonalds sells a bunch of fat. I mean, the French fries are to die for. A slow death, clogged arteries and all.

I think the government should regulate marriage, but not stamp morality on the issue. I mean, tax marriage – the American thing to do. And I think everyone ought to be able to pay more in taxes, get bored in a sexless marriage, and be eligible for a nasty divorce. Sort of how this guy ended up, rich and alone after a marriage from hell.

American dream, baby. Let's don't discriminate because of body parts.

PSA: Oil Fires

You know, how you get some junk mail. I got one recently, with this movie attached. It is a PSA for Oil Fires. By posting it here, I don't think I am violating any copyright agreements. A bit frightening, this is.

$700 Billion Mistake: Won't Help Foreclosures

A few weeks ago, I wrote something about the $700 Billion Bailout. I was driving to work one morning last week, and I heard something about how the first chunk of change was going to help people fend off foreclosure. Now, perhaps the money will help loosen up some business credit, but I would like to dispel any notion of this money helping struggling homeowners.

I mean, most of the people who have their houses near disclosure are living close to the edge. I mean, if they weren't close to the edge, they would be making their home payments. Make sense?

But let's look at this from the point-of-view of someone who doesn't have very good credit and is making a house payment. To make this example concrete, I am going to make up some numbers. Let's say a family of four purchases their dream house a three years ago. They pay $200, 000 for the home, which is at market prices for the time. Maybe before the market crash, the homeowners looked on Zillow and saw that the house appreciated to $210K (5% in one year!). Now, however, the house is worth about $150K. The people made payments, each payment, at the first of each month. Now, they look at the equity they have in the house, and they are up-side-down. Perhaps they now owe $195K and the house is worth only $150K. The homeowners don't have good credit, and now they can either bail on the house, or keep paying on an asset that is depreciated and probably will not appreciate anytime soon. Not-stellar credit and even if you take a major hit on your credit, it gets forgotten after 7 years. If the homeowner keeps paying, it is not certain that in 7 years, they will be in better financial shape. Sure, the bank can sue the homeowner for the difference between the amount owned and amount the bank gets after foreclosure. But will the bank get anything from the person walking away from house? Doubtful.

Now the auto industry wants only a sliver of the $700 Billion. The problem, however, with the auto industry is that they are bleeding billions every quarter, and their business model is not about to change anytime soon. I don't really know if this is true, but some PhD on NPR said something to that effect last week.

Anyway, we are spending tons of money to fix a problem, and what we are doing is paying for bonuses and paying to solve rich people's problems. This is Medicaid for the rich, pure and simple. And we don't want to know.

Guess I will open my 401-K statement. That is something I have been putting off.

Class Warfare

I read an article the other (it was the other day when I wrote this, but this stayed in my draft folder until today) day in a magazine about marriage between classes. It is in a magazine that I normally don't read – I read it probably twice per year – and the article was trite, not-well-written and got published. I really think the only reason the article was published was for the title of the article and the picture which accompanied the article, a red stiletto next to a work boot. Perhaps the magazine wanted to use the picture and had to find an article to match.

I don't want to go into the article, but what I realized from the words was that some feel like there are still class distinctions in the United States. This is a fairly un-American sentiment, and a sentiment I did not believe exists.

I was brought up in a working class family, and although we did not make sandwiches for Dad who spent time in the mines, we were definitely not living comfortably. But even though I am not well-off, I have mixed in Upper Class company once in a while. And those with money – I am talking real money – they see themselves a bit differently than the rest of us.

I have seen the following concerning wealthy individuals:

1. They seem to believe they deserve their wealth, even if it is inherited.
2. Many feel that wealth comes with a burden. That money has a host of responsibilities and problems associated with it.
3. They seem to equate wealth with class. Can we all just say, "Oops. We can see the problem with this assumption." Two examples which come to mind (and how else would they be related) are OJ Simpson and Rush Limbaugh. Both are wealthy, and both lack class.

When I look at people, I don't see different classes. I mean, the reason behind the Campbell's soup artwork (Andy Warhol) is that whether you are a millionaire or some struggling food stamp family, you eat the same type of soup. Okay, since Andy Warhol painted these soup images, there have been lots of changes in food, and now if you are wealthy, perhaps you can get a better can of soup. But Warhol was interested in the fact that some threads reached across classes.

In college, I had a friend who was rich. And he would "cry on my shoulder" about all of his responsibilities. Things I could not understand about. All this while I was working through school, wondering if my paycheck would cover books this semester. Through it, though, I never once thought that he could not understand my concerns about money.

One thing that bugs me is when people assume they are smarter than me for whatever reason. Because they have money. Because they have power. Because they have influence. Because they have double-D boobs. Because they know HTML.

Sports and Politics

I captured this image a couple of weeks ago, I think. I was going to write something about rankings, perhaps talk about the BCS. Well, I have no idea what I was going to say, because I never wrote anything down.

A week ago, President-Elect Obama had this to say on Monday Night Football: "I think it is about time we had playoffs [in college football]. I'm fed up with these computer rankings and this and that and the other. Get eight teams -- the top eight teams right at the end. You got a playoff."

Some football fans credit this statement, on the eve of Election Day, putting him over the top. Me, I think it was more to do with politics, or the fact that W. Bush sucks.

I am very much in favor of a playoff, mostly because my team is Georgia Tech, and if we slide in at number 8, we may have a shot at winning a national championship. It could happen, a heck of a lot more likely than us going 12-0.

I want to say something philosophical and deep about football, but that sort of ruins the game. Am I right or what?

Accounting Refugees Unite

You know, every once in a while, I get something in my inbox, saying something like, "Hey, Blogger Chickie, join this cause to save the world. The flavor of the week this week is Refugees Unite."

At first, I thought perhaps I would write something about Cheerleading Refugees uniting. But then I would have to endure the guys talking about cheerleader bondage. And I really want to help someone.

So I looked through my recent memories, and I figured out that no one seems to help accountant refugees. I mean, let's say you help some CEO bilk millions from retirement accounts, slush funds, or wherever you could pilfer money for the well-deserving CEO. I mean, in industries where the government does not subsidize CEO golden parachutes for malfeasance. So if you are in big oil, and you are moving money around. Pretty soon the FBI busts into your private residence and suggests you cooperate or else you will be a resident in another gated community. But this new gated community is state-sponsored. So instead of rolling on your CEO, you flee for Mexico or Tuvalu.

Now, these poor accountants are in foreign countries, left with just the clothes on their backs and the stacks of unmarked bills in their suitcases. A pity.

I say we start some sort of fund for these guys. I mean, they probably don't have English cable television or Diet Dr. Pepper, or online banking. A true pity.

Please cue the violin music. Any of you wishing to donate to this fund can deposit money for this worthy cause.

Blogging is Like Anal Sex

The other day, without any provocation from anything I have written, Joe made the following statement: "Blogging is like anal sex. That analogy sprung to mind, but I have no idea how to tie it all together. Can you work on that for me?"

I will take this opportunity to see if I can convince you that blogging is like anal sex. Let's lube up and begin.

The reasons that blogging is like anal sex.

1. People just don't admit they do it. I mean, how many of us who blog once, twice, three times per week will even admit reading blogs, much less writing about them. When asked about it, one may say, "Blogging? I have heard about it, but I have never really thought to do it."

In the same vein, while some mentioning of sex can be seen in even polite company, I have never heard someone even jokingly talking about sex around the poppie hole.

2. It is just not natural. When I was in school, we had health. I learned that you ate food with your mouth, that your teeth start the digestive process, then down to a bunch of tubes, to the stomach, to a bunch of other tubes, and exits out the anus. I always laughed on the inside when I had to write "anus" on a health test. The point is, when I was in health, we talked about the anus being the exit for the food after the nutritious stuff was taken into the body. There was nothing said about it being a secondary entrance for a guy's penis. I always laughed on the inside when I had to write "penis" on the health test.

Blogging is not natural either. I mean, when you think of writers, you think about someone writing for a newspaper or magazine or, better yet, writing a book. I wonder if the people who wrote all of those various tests on Cosmo were laughing when they wrote them. Expressing yourself by writing is one thing; blogging is not natural.

3. It is just – so dirty. Blogging can be really dirty work. I mean, if you look at some of my own work and the work of others, some of what we write about is painful, dirty. I label this as cathartic, but others may see it more as dirty. Raw emotions can be dirty.

Anal sex is also dirty. And we all can guess why. 'Nuff said.

4. It is too hard to do every day. But if you don't do it very often, starting can be painful. Just read that last sentence again and again. It is too hard to do every day. Blogging, it is too hard . . . . Anal sex, it is too hard . . . . Do I really need to spell this out for you? Didn't think so.

Blog Following and Anal Sex

If you have not guessed, I have been a bit distracted lately. Not bad distracted, but distracted from everything blog-related. Actually, this has been an evolutionary process, and I have been more dispassionate the last year to eighteen months.

By dispassionate, I don't mean I don't care at all. I usually care so damn much about things that interest me. For instance, when I was first blogging, I would hit 20 or 30 blogs per day, making comments about half of them. Witty comments too. And not about panties or cum stains (hard to believe, I know), but about living with loss, hand regeneration, bio-nuclear engineering, and pop tart art. I fancied myself the Michelle Angelo of blogging (yeah, I know it's Michael, but there did not seem to be a bunch of well-rounded women in the Renaissance period (I mean, Bottochelli's female models were rounded, but not well-rounded).

Anyway, there is a sort of new feature called Blogger Following. The feature lets readers/viewers publicly subscribe to your blog and, if you want it, can add a "Follower" list to your blog so that people can see who follows your blog. It lets you know who is reading, and they don't miss a single sentence fragment. I don't know if I want to add a follower list – it looks cool, but sadly, I only have one follower. I mean, an army is a cool thing, but an army of one, well that seems to be fairly pathetic. Incidentally, that is also the US Army's current tag line. Oopsie.

The following is a clip from an HBO show called Lucky Louie. It is making its way around, and although I don't particularly like the subject, I was rolling on the floor laughing. Perhaps because I don't like the subject (anal sex). It's of an adult nature, so it is tasteful (unlike some of my posts).



I don't know why I am mixing these two very different subjects – just say my medication levels are off, perhaps. Oh, and I am not sure you should mix anything with anal sex – that has led many a person to the local emergency room. Remember, don't replace light bulbs while engaging in anal sex. It goes badly for those involved, but it does provide wonderful joke potential.

The first post after the election – deals with leaders and anal sex. Makes sense to me.

Election Day Advice

Today is Election Day. All over the country. And I have heard a lot about how it is our duty to vote. But you know, if you don't know how many Supreme Court justices we have in the US, if you don't understand something about the issues, and if you get your advice from bloggers, I don't want you voting.

You see, ill-informed votes dilute other people's votes. I mean, if you have given it some thought. Even if you looked at the candidates mascots and figured which would beat the other in an ultimate fighting match (Obama went to Columbia, the mascot is a lion; McCain graduated the United States Naval Academy, the mascot is a goat), I am betting on the lion making cabrito out of the goat. The point is that I want people to think before they vote. But not real random thoughts. I don’t want a voter saying, "Well that McCain supporter had nice tits. I think I will vote for McCain."

I want voters to come up with cogent arguments that make sense in your world view. I mean, I don't care if the methodology is bizarre – just that you have some rationale. Let's say you make your living on insider trading. Well, if you thought McCain would be tougher on adding people to police insider trading, vote for Obama. Or if you are a military contractor doing business in Iraq and am afraid Obama would get us out of Iraq (I find this a bit doubtful), then vote for McCain.

But if you have no clue who to vote for, don't practice drunken voting. Just don't vote. And if you want to lie about it, then you will have something in common with most candidates. I don't think a vote for Obama or McCain means the end to civilization as we know it. That was last election.

So if you don't want to vote for president, just pass. And if people want you to go to the voting booth with them (perhaps a candidate entices you with booze or a ride anywhere in the city), then vote. But just vote against all of the ballot initiatives. Most of them are just something about raising taxes (or bonds to build this or that). Sure, occasionally it will be on another issue, but since the initiative is poorly written anyway, you probably won't be able to figure out what it says. And we have survived all this time without the initiative, so what harm does it do for not passing it?

Me, I am going to see what soft drinks each prefers to make my choice. But have a system people. We don't need no more hanging chads.

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My prediction (made on November 3, 2008): Obama will win 46 of 50 States. It will be an early night for those setting up camp on the couch with a pint of Häagen-Dazs and the remote.

Oh, and this just in. Someone sent it to me - so I don't have a real source - other than the wire itself.

LAND O' LAKES, Fla. (AP) - A nudist community on Florida's west coast wants to establish the first clothing-optional polling site. The Caliente Resorts, located in Pasco County north of Tampa, has approached election officials about the idea.

Nothing in state law would prohibit it, but the supervisor of elections says he is opposed to creating any new precincts before redistricting in 2010.

Gives another meaning to the term "hanging chads."

The Ten Commandments

Grant, an occasional reader and wonderful writer, wrote something on Halloween that was not satanic, overtly mocking, or had any pictures of hot Asian women in miniskirts. He wrote about religion. But not in a "why doesn't your Savior get a haircut" sort of way. More like in a way where several freshmen political science majors could plagiarize his blog, quoting him as "a senior white house official".

Grant's thesis, as follows: "Here in the Southeastern portion of the United States a lot of the Christian propaganda slingers make claims that our laws are based on the ten commandments." I have taken all of the wit out of the thesis, basically so I look clever and sexy, and Grant looks like an accountant with morals. Yeah, some accountants have morals. I have read about them. Okay, I haven't. But based on the number of accountants in the United States, there have to be some with morals.

Okay, I had to go back to Grant's site to cut and paste the Ten Commandments – and there was mention of a miniskirt in his blog. Well, at least I know it is him. [edited in: The bolded parts are from Grant's blog, and the rest is crap I made up and pawned off as fact. I added this after knot made a comment that made me think I was cutting and pasting all of Grant's blog from this point forward.]

The reason I took his 10 Commandments is because I don't know all ten of them. You see, I am Catholic. All I remember is not to have sex before married, or until the guy is really, really frustrated. Anyway, Grant gave very good reasons why most or all of these commandments have no relevance to our current government, and I thought it would be interesting if I tried the exact opposite approach, that the commandments are entrenched in our government.

#1: Do not have any other gods before me. The US Government can be thought of as a god. Our money has the words "In God We Trust" emblazoned on its money, but we are really talking about the US Government. If you have a peek at the government, it grows. When President Carter decided to make two new cabinet posts (the Department of Energy and Department of Education). These two departments have grown a lot over the years, and I don't know too many people who think we have a better energy plan or our education is any better since establishing these two departments. Clearly, the US Government thinks they are god, and the government knows best. So this commandment is clearly entrenched in the US Government.

#2: You shall not make or worship a false idol. You see, the government, according to the above, is the true idol. The government gets more power when you rely on it, when you take their handouts. And I am not faulting anyone from taking handouts. I mean, when I turn 65 or 72 or whenever I am eligible for Social Security, I will be filing my paperwork. But the Government doesn't want us to build our own businesses (why else would they tax them the way they do?), to form communities where we don't depend on Social Security (the Amish, for instance). No, our Government does not want us to worship other things.

#3: You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain. Again, if the US Government is a god, then why do you think we enacted the Patriot Act? To catch bad guys? Right. How about having something where we can spy on our own? Oh, and as a bonus, we can imprison those who are against us. Bonus.

#4: Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy. The Sabbath is not necessarily Sunday. For our government, there are several of these days. We call them Federal holidays. Try mailing a letter or depositing money in a bank on those days. Even some public transportation is extremely scaled back.

#5: Honor your father and your mother. Okay, again, "father" and "mother" are actually the President and Vice President. Mom and Pops. Seems you can't burn these people in effigy. I remember in school that the founding fathers burned King George III in effigy. Hell, if W. had a son named George, think of the parallels. Oh, I am off on a tangent again. Anyway, the Government doesn't like free speech if it involves fire. Think flag burning, yelling fire in a building. I could go on and on. Hey, now that is a great title for a blog. Again, a tangent.

#6: You shall not kill. This rule is for individuals, not municipalities. I mean, who hasn't read an article about some rookie cop shooting a ten-year-old with a lime green squirt gun. Oh, and this is the law of the land, as long as you don't count Texas. In Texas, you can kill someone if they are on your property holding your television set. Apparently, a TV set is considered a deadly weapon. I gave an argument for this one, but admittedly, this is my weakest argument thus far.

#7: You shall not commit adultery. I think this means you can't say, "Government, fuck yourself." Say government, bomb, George Bush, and anthrax on the phone to someone. See how long until some ATF guy with a 'tude knocks down your door. It may not be illegal, but if they can put you in jail without you seeing a judge, er, I think that is a bit worse than something that is illegal. I mean, you still screwed.

#8: You shall not steal. You can't cheat on taxes. That is like stealing from god. Not cool, illegal, and how they nailed Capone.

#9: You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. Don't lie in court. Sort of like the above, except they nailed Martha Stewart (she really needed nailing, in more ways than one). They couldn't get her for those stupid doilies she makes on camera or the bitch she is, so they got her on lying.

#10: You shall not covet your neighbor's swag. I actually had to look this one up. I did not know what a swag was, but I am guessing it is a female stag. Bestiality is illegal, immoral and messy.

Okay, so I just argued the opposite of Grant. And I filled in all the blanks. Oh, and you know what is sort of funny, other than my one stalker (yeah, Grant, I have a stalker and you don't) and a few other people, the only people who will be reading this are freshmen political science majors and people surfing for Asian girls in miniskirts. And that's called limited freedom of speech, baby!

Nasty Comments

For those of you who read comments (I normally don't read other blog comments, so if you are like me, you may not be aware), I have had a nasty anonymous commenter lately.

I normally write for myself and really don't care where you are from (and don't snoop to see where people are from). Anyway, this gal pissed me off, mostly because she hides behind being anonymous. As Prata or Grant would suggest, posting anonymous comments are not really anonymous.

Well, Wednesday night (Oct 29 2008 7:38:05 pm), she posted another note. I don't know a lot about her, but I do know she probably is from Chester, New York. She uses Optimum Online (Cablevision Systems), perhaps uses Firefox for her browser (at work - oh, and her work computer is a PC running Windows XP). And I have her IP Address. And if that is not all, her initials are AF (yeah, I know the name, too, or the name she has used in the past on her work computer).

Sorry I can't have anonymous comments right now.

Presidential Infomercial

I remember when Infomercials first started out (I think). Anyway, there were three main television stations (ABC, CBS and NBC), one public television station, and one independent station. Well, the independent station, every once in a while, would air a 30 minute Infomercial. I am assuming they just did not have the cash to run "What's Happening" again. Remember, I live in the deep south, and people did not like the social commentary of "Good Times." I did not understand it, actually, at the time but I tripped on the differences in an English class in college. For some reason, college English has a lot to do about social commentary, sex and politics. Not just GPS – grammar, punctuation and spelling. Guess it was more about communicating ideas than the vehicles (sentences) in which the ideas are communicated.

Crap, I should remember that – it sounds pretty insightful. Note to self: spew this out at the next cocktail party I attend.

Anyway, I saw Obama's Infomercial last night. I had two thoughts when watching this: (1) Obama could make a killing being the voice-over for documentaries, he really could, and (2) Obama is presidential.

Both presidential candidates this time are presidential – people you wouldn't mind seeing in the oval office. I like that.

I have been on the fence for some time, and my biggest hurdle is not the candidates. It is the people who support them. I don't like either side, and until now, I thought I must be anti-social or something. I don't like the Republicans who are blogging about them (or their talk show hosts that talk about them), and I don't like the Democrats that are telling their part for Obama. I don't like either's supporters. If one side had fewer supporters, perhaps I would favor that side. Either that, or if one side had fewer assholes supporting them.

Now, I have friends on both sides that have tried to sway me – I am not talking about them. I am talking about what I here when driving to work, what I read in the Op-Ed part of the paper (the third most read part of most newspapers, behind the comics and sports).

I am ready for this to be over already so I can start believing in someone who was not like W. or Clinton. I didn't like Bush senior, but he did not annoy me the way the last 16 years have. And I would have been annoyed by Gore as well. Can't we just have someone that doesn't piss off 60% of Americans? Is that too much to ask?

Loved the Infomercial. And I felt that I could just pick up my cell phone and text in my vote for president. Wait, that was another show, right? Made me want to own a Ginsu knife though. Not sure why.

Financial Bailout

Over the last day or so, we have heard a lot about how some banks will use their bailout money. Some reports are that the banks are going to some of it on bonuses. Oh, they say, the bonuses are a significant part of one's salary, and it should be around what they earned last year.

So we have an industry where a bunch of people screwed up, and we want to ensure they are rewarded to the extent they were rewarded the previous year? Doesn't seem to make sense to me.

Can you imagine this in other areas of the world.

Drunk Drivers
Judge: Okay, Mr. Drunk Driver, the state has arrested you for drunk driving. We do not want drunk drivers on the road.

Drunk Driver: Do you are going to lock me up, huh?

Judge: Well, you smashed up your car pretty good when you ran that school bus off the road. We thought we would give you some money so you can buy another car?

Gambler
Casino Boss: Well, Mr. Gambler, you lost lots of money at our casino this week. Looking at your credit at our casino, you seem to be tapped out.

Gambler: Guess you will comp my room tonight and send me on my way.

Casino Boss: Not exactly. We are part of a government program to extend more credit to you. In fact, we don't want your losses to hurt you in any way, so we are also going to comp you some meals, theater tickets, and, what the heck, a prostitute.

Gambler: Thanks. I learned my lesson.

---

We are teaching industry that when they screw up, we will pick them up, dust them off, and give them what they need to fail again. We have always had the government lining the pockets of the rich since the barons of the nineteenth century. It just was not that obvious until now.

Limiting One's Choices

There is a photographer I absolutely love in Flickr. Well two, but this one (named AustinTX) took the picture to the right of my words. I love this picture. And not for the reasons that others may like this picture.
Yeah, she is a beautiful young woman, completely nude – but tastefully so – and she is looking at pictures on the bed. Well, I am not sure that's what she is looking at, but that's what the image suggests. When I was in my late teens and early twenties, I did not take any naughty pictures. I mean, there is one picture of me, but it was not a "photo shoot." And now I don't have my twenty-year-old bod anymore. So I really can't ever do nudie pics that show me in my twenties.

If I had to do it all over again, would I want some naughty pics of me? Maybe. Maybe.

Getting to Know Your Cyber-Lover

Like many thirty-something women, on rare occasion, I chat with guys. You can go any of a number of public chat rooms and find people who want nothing more than to discuss sex. Sometimes these discussions concern previous experiences – which is nice because it is a way of reminding yourself of previous liaisons, and sometimes the guy wants to masturbate, and your words and attentions help him do that.

But when you meet such a man online, you really don't know much about him. You can't really trust what he says about his age, location or marital status, or even his real likes and dislikes. You can chat and talk and sometimes get a better idea, but you really don't know for sure.

Okay, so let's say I had a friend, let's call him Push77. Turns out he is a bit older than me, graduating college in 1977, and he loves to push his cock inside of women. That's how he got his name.

Anyway, after one cybersex session, we were chatting about this and that, and I asked him which video sides he thought were good. He turned me onto a site I had not ever seen – fantasti.cc. If is definitely not work friendly. But neither were our chats.

Anyway, afterwards, I trek on over to the site. You have to sign up, which is a major pain in the ass, but I do anyway. Turns out the site links to lots of other sites – it uses frames so you can see many other sites without having to leave their site. Sort of cheating, but if you can search for good porn, why not?

After looking at the site for just a little while, I get bored and leave.

A couple of weeks later, I get a note from the site, saying that I have a new "friend", Push77. Well, I log onto the site, wondering what a new friend means to a site that just serves up porn. Well, turns out that you can "save" porn that you like to view later. Not that I knew that, but I investigate it. Turns out, since Push77 is now a friend, I can see his taste in porn. I am psyched, because I want to see if he views what we chat about.

I log onto the site, and one of his favorites is "Amazing Girl Fucking Fantastic (22:11)". It starts out with this 20-year-old hottie, small boobs, shoulder-length light brunette hair, long eyelashes. Oh, and it is from megarotic (remember the site does not have its own videos). She is a cutie, but I would get bored very easily if she is just looking at herself in the closet door mirror.

Enter skanky guy. At first I don't know it is skanky guy. All I see is a huge penis, thick and long. And then my focus is really taken away. I mean, she licks him, takes him deep inside her mouth and all I see is his fantastic manhood. It is not for a minute or two when he starts fingering her and she says something about "my little pussy," that I remember there is a girl in the video.

But really, for me, the action is still on him. I mean, she is there, bending over, accepting his penis deep inside of her, but her gaping labial lips seem like just the right place for his cock to be. Their juices flow, and my heart begins beating faster. I love that Push77 has picked a video that he can enjoy that seems to give me pleasure as well. The only thing that detracts slightly is that she spits on his penis several times. And I wonder when I do the same, do I seem less ladylike.

The girl swallows the cum expertly and smiles. Video over.

After watching it, I go back to see what over videos Push77 has selected. I start to feel that he really has not lied, that our sessions are similar to the video I have just seen. Then I see his short bio. Apparently he is gay. Not bisexual on the bio page but gay. Still a great cyber lover, but gay. Guess I did not see that one coming.

Political Decisions

I am completely beside myself. I have to decide by November 4 on who I should vote for. If you think about it, ruminating over this decision is fairly inefficient. There will be more than 120 million people deciding on who the next president should be. And a bunch of people are figuring out for themselves who to vote for. If half are not decided (not voting in step with their party affiliation), that is 60 million people who were trying to figure this thing out.

Anyway, I have got an idea. I started keeping a list of drivers – some with Obama bumper stickers, some with McCain bumper stickers – and what they have done to piss me off. I am not normally a half-empty person, but I don't notice cars unless there is something unusual they have done, and most of the unusual seems to be bad.

For instance:

McCain Lexus ES330. Was stopped on a red light. Blinker indicating the car wanted to turn right. No other traffic. Owner on cell phone and did not turn until the light was green. McCain 0 Obama 1

Obama Toyota Celica. Driving on the highway and the car passes me on the right. Nearly clips the side of my car, and I was traveling 8 miles above the speed limit. McCain 1 Obama 1

Obama Ford Truck. Turning left on a red light. The arrow changed to green and the owner makes the turn right before the light changes to yellow. Lots of cars had to wait because owner was not paying attention, and not even on the phone. McCain 2 Obama 1

McCain Saturn sedan. Owner picking nose at stop light. Gross. McCain 2 Obama 2

McCain Ford Focus. Owner listening to loud Christian music at stop light. Not sure one should blast Bethany Dillon ever. McCain 2 Obama 3

Anyway, you get the idea. I am not sure where this will lead me, but I will at least be as informed as those who listen to political commercials. It is hard to believe that some people don't understand that political commercials are really advertisements. I mean, if you are not going to trust George Foreman when you buy your next hibachi, why trust political ads to make your decision for you.

On Writing

It's almost here: National Novel Writing Month. I have thought about doing this year after year. Last year, I started it – but I fizzled out fast. I did about 6,000 words over four days. And I did not do a darn thing for the rest of the month. I trashed the words – I did not like where the plot was going, and I was sort of frustrated as well. So I trashed it. It felt good, actually.

Kerry McFee, NaNo-Overachiever, wrote a piece about how she wrote so many words last year. Sort of funny, but not sure I just want to write words. Still, she wrote a whole lot last year. Pretty impressive.

I have read that writers write because a bunch of woman will sleep with you if you publish a book. When I was younger, I may have been in that screaming throng, eager to shed my panties for a playwright or a poet. I don't know what it is about men who can write. But that's not what I am writing about today.

I find myself on the edge of November once again, and I desperately want to write, but I am not sure how to begin. I know, I know. You begin by diving in, writing word after delectable word. But I don't even know what genre I want to write in. I mean, because it is a novel, that would eliminate all the books on buckeyballs and nanotechnology. Okay, I will admit it, I know nothing about them, but they sound darned impressive. Nearly damned impressive. And I will not write a cookbook. Or a travel book.

Everyone's mind leaps to erotica. And you know, I have the stored knowledge and experience to write a nice tale. But when I write about erotica, I tend to want to masturbate A LOT, and I am not sure I would have the energy to write 50,000 words about erotica and masturbate nearly continuously in order to find my muse.

Doctor: "This is a highly unusual case. Notice the vaginal tearings, the engorged clitoris, and the carpel tunnel syndrome from typing. Frankly, I have no idea how she got into this condition. Very strange."

Nurse: "You can stop examining her, doctor."

I just don't want to visit the ER for such a reason. Yikes.

And I am not thrilled about writing a children's book. I know, I know, JK Rawlins may be the highest paid author ever – going from living in her car with her kids to a nest egg that is over one billion dollars – but that only happens to one author (and it already happened to her).

I don't want to write about vampires – I find them too creepy – or romance novels – too trite. And the more I write here, the more I have a "don't list" instead of a "do" list. Perhaps writing turns me into a negative person. I write about what not to say to someone who has lost of loved one instead of what to say. How not to fuck 40 of your co-workers instead of how to fuck 40 of your co-workers. How not to contract an STD in a public restroom instead . . . you get the idea.

This year I am going to write about how to ring 50,000 words from my brain in the month of November instead of worrying about not being able to do it. One word at a time.

Voting Strategy

Okay, there is a bit of an election in early November, and I figured that I would let you know who to vote for. I am not going to give you a name, but a strategy in which to choose a president.

First, I want you to think back to past elections. You have to have selective amnesia, of sorts, and remember who you voted for and why. Then, if they were elected, how did they perform in the office. Then think of people you thought were bozos pre-election, and then how they performed. Then you look to see how your pre-election thoughts panned out. Obviously, your pre-election thoughts may be different than my pre-election thoughts, and that is okay. I am not telling you that you are right or I am right. Just look at your pre-election thoughts and then what happened while the president was in office. Were they congruent? Did your predictions pan out?

Here are two examples I have:

President Reagan
I was not of voting age when Carter and Reagan were campaigning for president in 1980. But I remember the election and remember what I thought. I remember thinking that even though Carter was not really doing a super job as president, mostly due to things beyond his control, I thought that electing a B-list actor from California did not seem like a smooth move. Plus he was governor of California. I am living in Georgia – and people from California were considered nuts at the time. My reaction to Reagan was really unflattering, and I think his presidency, even though I did not agree with everything, was very positive.

Summary:
pre-election view of Reagan: he sucked
post-election view of Reagan: how wrong could I be?

President Clinton
I could vote for President Clinton when he was first elected. I was not focused on the election, but it seems that he seemed to have come out of nowhere. I thought, this man rocks. He is not like other politicians. Not like Bush at all. I was not a Bush supporter, and I thought about voting for Clinton. I actually voted for Ross Perot – because I wanted to give those in office cause for worry about third party candidates. But when Clinton was elected, I was pleased. Since I was – and to a great extent, still am – an idealist, when I learned of Travelgate (the White House travel office controversy), Whitewater (the Susan McDougal land deal controversy), the FBI file controversy, and the circumstances surrounding Vince Foster's death (just felt fishy). And that has nothing to do with Clinton's apparent liaisons with women (when Arkansas governor, a couple of troopers had a bit to say about this), Gennifer Flowers, Monica and her blue dress, and I may have missed some. I remember reading portions of the Starr report – an interesting read.

Summary:
pre-election view of Clinton: very favorable
post-election view of Reagan: how wrong could I be?

Bottom line is that I am not really good at picking the president. I should really just do the opposite of what I want to do. Who knows, you may be better at discerning who would make a good president based on pre-election thoughts.
It is easier to pick the trifecta after you know the results of the race, but then it is too late to bet. I, am a voter, sort of suck at picking a good representative. Is that because my choosing skills suck or because the whole process is hosed? Sometime to think about.

In Love with Eli Stone

Last year, I fell in love with Eli Stone. And I don't mean Jonny Lee Miller, the man who plays Eli Stone. I am talking about the television show. Okay, I like www.ibdb.com. It makes me sound so much more with-it when talking about pop culture. The premier of Eli Stone is Tuesday, October 14, on prime time.

I guess I like the story because it is about redemption. You have some lawyer who may have not made the best decisions in his life. Then, he has an epiphany. Or a brain aneurism. Or something.

I like stories about redemption, perhaps because I want very much so to be redeemed. And willpower is a bit more courageous than keeping a dime between one's knees. Don’t believe me – give it a try.

I sometimes feel that God is communicating to all of us – perhaps not through cataclysmic visions (one of Stone's visions was of an earthquake). That would be too easy. I think we are all trying to find our way in the world, and I think it would be sort of humorous if God was guiding us through, but most of us were not in tune to hear what He was telling us.

Reminds me of an Abba song: Cassandra. Okay, the song is actually a re-telling of the Greek tale. Here is the "Leesa version" of the story. Cassandra hooked up with Apollo. Apollo is the god of light and sun. From the statues I remember when I was in high school, he had a little penis but a large scrotum. I figure he really knew how to use his junk, though, because he had lots of lovers. Cassandra must have been a good lay because Apollo gave her the gift of seeing (or hearing, depending on the story) the future. Well, Cassandra did not return Apollo's love, so then Apollo placed a curse on her so that no one would ever believe her predictions.

Things went downhill after that. She predicted the Trojan War; no one believed her. Her parents locked her up because apparently she was a raving lunatic. She was raped (by "Locrian" Ajax) and taken as a concubine (by King Agamemnon of Mycenae). Moral of the story: don't screw around with the gods.

So I have gone from a television show, to my religious views, to the Greek stories. No answers. Just God trying to talk to us and most of us (me included) having ear buds blocking our ears. Sorry, God.

A MILF By Any Other Name

The other day, I was watching some television shows online, and there was a commercial about the "Gilmore Girls." I did not know that Lauren Graham being a MILF was why some men enjoyed the show. Actually, I don't know of a single man who ever commented on the show. But to have a commercial, even online, that highlights the fact that the show is "MILF and Cookies."

Okay, I have heard the term MILF. And when I looked at the Urban Dictionary, there is an entry for "MILF and Cookies." But I think the definition was made up. I mean, is this a MILF that is sweet? Or fattening? The definition is not so entertaining.

Then we fast forward to Sarah Palin. Yeah, you know the one.



I am neither Democrat nor Republican, but I have heard not one but two Republican pundits mention that they'd like to . . . . Well, I mean, if you are part of a party that is prudish, it seems silly to shout for joy that your VP candidate is more f***able than the other party's candidate.

When I was young, I remember hearing something in the news about Jimmy Carter. Mr. President said that "he had lust in his heart for some Playboy Playmate." All you have to do is google Jimmy Carter and Playmate and you get Patti McGuire's name. Jimmy Carter is still a bit of a legend in my state. Mr. President was an honorable man. He did say something about lusting for a playmate. Okay, we had a president with a libido. Again, understandable.

I never understood the moment that MILF became a household word – a line we crossed as a society. I saw a sit-com last year, and they used the word, "cameltoe." Really. It is official; the world is going to hell in a hand basket. Enjoy the ride.

Rich Bitch and Bubble Baths

News flash. I am not rich. I have not even whiffed real money. Big money. So when someone like me thinks of an expensive watch, my mind drifts to Rolex. I don't think of Roger Dubois (their new men's watch, the Excalibur, retails for $657,150. The one thing I don't get – if you are spending over $650K for a watch, why tack on the $150 on the end of the watch? Really, like someone is going to say, "You know, I was looking for something under $657,120. Makes no sense to me. Oh, and if I was watch shopping for hubbie and saw this watch along side a decent Timex, I would have purchased the Timex (even if I did not know one watch cost more than a house more than the other watch).

Similarly, I don't know good threads. Oh, and I am talking about bedsheets. Apparently Hästens is a fine brand that I have not heard of. I mean, I would get my sheets from JC Penneys. They hold up in hot water when you are getting cum stains out. I mean, isn't that important? Either right people don't cum, or they throw the damn sheets out. Again, a foreign concept.

For me, I can remember a few airlines. Southwest is my favorite. I am not looking for an outfit like Netjets (they are one of the large charter jet services; not sure if they have frequent flier mile program). Flexjet is another carrier.

When I look for a deal, I look to Wal-Mart. Actually, truth-be-known, I prefer Target (pronounced Tarczey for a classier sound). I don't fly to wherever and attend a Sotheby's auction.

I mention this because every once in a while, I read a magazine called Worth. I make a warm bubble bath and read it from cover to cover. I don't dream of being rich, but while reading this $6 magazine, I sometimes wonder how the other 1% lives.

Receptionist Sandy

I wanted to relay a conversation I had the other day with a receptionist. Okay, I am going to exaggerate the phone conversation a little bit, but only a very little bit. It was nearly this bizarre. I called a friend of mine, and I wanted her to call me back. All I was looking for was the receptionist to get my name and phone number. That's it. Over the years, I have learned that just getting those two pieces of information correct can be considered a minor miracle. Anyway, here is the conversation, as I remember it:

Receptionist/Sandy: Good morning, ABC Incorporated. Sandy speaking. How may I delight you today?

Leesa: I would like to speak with Barbara. Is she available?

Sandy: I am sorry. Barbara is on another line. Can I take a message?

Leesa: Actually, can you forward me to her voice mail?

Sandy: I am sorry. We no longer have voicemail at ABC Incorporated. Your phone calls are important to us, and we want to give them personalized attention. May I take a message, Leesa?

Leesa: Sure. Please have her call Leesa at 912-555-1212.

Sandy: I am going to read the message to ensure I have this correct.

What Leesa is thinking: Sandy is delightful. She took time to tell me in a delightful way that the company no long has voicemail. She also got my name right and wants to ensure she got the message right. So far, I love this (other than the fact I can't go directly to voicemail, something which should be a God-given right. Or at least something we should expect in the United States.

Sandy pauses, and then the following ensues.

Sandy: "Leesa, a disgruntled customer, is calling to speak with Barbara X. She needs immediate attention and satisfaction and can be reached at 512-555-1212." How is that, Leesa?

Leesa: Sandy, I am not disgruntled. I am not upset. I just want Barbara to give me a call.

Sandy: Oh. I thought since you called, you were disgruntled. Most people who call this office need us to fix something, so I wanted to add something to give your message special attention.

Leesa: Oh, and you got my area code wrong as well.

Sandy: Well, excuse me. I am trying to give your message attention, and I have already written it down on my note pad. Tell you what I am going to do. (I hear the tearing of paper in the background.) I am going to leave three messages from you to Barbara. That way she will call you back.

Leesa: One message is sufficient. But please correct the area code. It is 912, not 512.

Sandy: Well, Leesa, our work is monitored, and because I want to delight you, I have spent more time than I normally would on the call.

Leesa: Can you read the message again?

Sandy: "Leesa, a pleased customer, is calling to speak with Barbara X. She needs immediate attention and satisfaction and can be reached at 512-555-1212." How is that, Leesa?

Leesa: Sandy, I don't want to nit-pick, but my area code is 912, not 512.

Sandy: What zip code is 512, anyway?

Leesa: I am sure I don't know. But can you please change the area code.

The phone call went downhill after that. Sandy did not delight me, and Barbara did not call. I fully expect Sandy to be promoted to a spot where she cannot mangle telephone numbers and piss off customers (I was a friend, not a customer of Barbara). And I have a feeling that was Sandy's plan all along. At least she delighted herself on that day.

777 Point Tumble: Message from a Former Bimbo

I admit it. I always wanted to write a blog entry with the words "tumble" and "bimbo" in the same title. Tumble and bimbo go together like bacon and eggs, grits and honey, or the Captain and Tennille. They just work together.

I admit it. I was a bit surprised by yesterday's events. When Nancy Pelosi said that the Republicans, I was not surprised. But saying it right before a "non partisan" vote seemed a little extreme. Guess she thought she had the votes. Oh, yeah, and she told 16 Dems to vote against the bill. Not to worry. She had the votes. From where I sit, I don't think most Republicans like Bush, and she basically wanted to align all Republicans with Bush and tell them it was their own damn fault. Hearing her speech reminded me of watching an illusionist in Las Vegas. Or was it Reno. Somewhere where gambling (and prostitution) is legal. I sort of think all places where both are legal look the same – lots of big breasted women in cocktail dresses at four in the afternoon, and slot machines on every damn surface.

I admit it. When I wrote that bit about prostitution and gambling, I thought that could explain the credit crunch. I mean, mortgage companies were gambling that housing values would go up and up, all of the time. Hell, I can remember when I purchased a house a few years ago, the mortgage company did not want us to put anything down. They said they could not legally say this, but if we got in trouble with the house payment, that we could just flip the house for a profit. Yeah, I wonder why they told me it if they could not legally say it. You have the real estate agent, the mortgage broker, the title company, all working together like pimps and prostitutes. Working the housing industry like the prostitutes work the street. Now that I have the "tits and ass" and "gambling" in this blog post, I can wrap this puppy up.

I admit it. I am mad at the banking industry – and Wall Street. AYou are going to hear a lot about how politics just robbed your 401Ks of 1.3 Trillion Dollars yesterday. Don't believe it. Wall Street already factored in the bailout into the equation and valued stocks accordingly. When it seemed that the bailout would not happen, they had to re-evaluate those stocks. They were counting on money to boost stocks again. Sons of bitches.

I admit it. I really hate mortgage bankers. Right now, the Federal Reserve has been trying to infuse money into the economy. But banks are sitting on all of this crappy debt, debt they knew was crappy. By not lending money, they are hoping against hope that the government will take over all of this bad debt.

I admit it. I got off track talking about prostitutes and gambling. Which brings me back to the illusionist at Reno. I did not finish the thought. The reason illusionists have beautiful assistants is to distract you. You are looking at the glittering cleavage and you miss the slight of hand. Right now the mortgage industry - the whole banking industry is hoping you look at the blonde's knockers, because they really, really want the 700 Billion dollar bailout. And I predict this as well, we will not hear bailout anymore. The word has stink attached to it. It will be a stimulus package or a rescue or something that sounds all noble and worthy of your representative's vote. Just keep your eye's on the illusionist, Americans. I don't want my 401K to go to hell in a hand basket, but I also don't want the government to fix a problem the banking industry made in the first place. With the help, of course, from Freddy Mac and Fannie Mae, and Alan Greenspan.

I wrote a funny little post for today, but I wanted to get this out. I know it is political and not funny. But at least there is a bit of T&A. Maybe I should find a picture and attach it to the post. I love Google for such things.

$700 Billion

Okay, I have been listening to a lot of talk over the last several days. Last one night last week, a bunch of fat cats met in a back room, and they came up with a plan to save the US economy. Put this in perspective. If you wrote a digit per dollar on a piece of paper, one thousand of them, turned the paper over and then wrote another 1,000 digits on the back, you would need another 349,999,999 pieces of paper to make 700 billion digits. 700 billion is a lot of money. And the people cobbling together the plan either are lobbyists or are elected officials. I am sure these people can't do anything wrong with such a complex issue. Lucky for us, they don't have any hidden agendas. Lucky for us.

The price of my home has gone down more than 10 percent over the past year. No big deal. I still make the payments. My investments have gone down more than 15 percent over the past year. Gas prices have gone up a bit over the past year – twenty or more percent, I would guess. Food prices are up double digits as well.

So we will be spending $700 Billion on whatever. Golden parachutes, I suppose. Investment bankers' trust funds. Whatever. Yeah, I know. This may stop my investments from going south. Maybe. I mean, these fat cats without hidden agendas, they know best. Right?

The Finger

I don't think it is very lady-like to give someone "the finger." I don't remember when I knew what the finger meant, but the first time I remember seeing it (e.g., it made an impact) was when a student in eighth grade gave a teacher a reverse finger (but you know what the student meant). He was a real cute guy, and I sort of had a crush on him.

I can still remember the student's right hand – it is etched on my brain. Or at least on chemicals that make my memory mine. It seemed like a really ugly gesture, and my crush on that guy ended.

Something happened over the years. My wide innocent eyes changed gradually. They did not change immediately or noticeably, but over time, with an ever increasing barrage of middle fingers, that obscene gesture because more commonplace.

Now, you can see the finger anytime a driver disagrees with your driving (so I have heard). And it makes me a little sad. How I long to be shocked by the middle finger.

Adjustments

Okay, the people who read me regularly know that I have not been writing regularly. I have had to make some adjustments - because I have other pursuits now. I have had to juggle my time; sort of like when you pull your panties out of your ass – making the panty adjustment. Okay, not really that way.

Every time I change something I need to make an adjustment. When I gave up Diet Dr. Pepper, I had to make adjustments. I had to keep sharp knives away from my desk at the office because without my caffeine fix I would risk plunging the knife into random passerbyers. PMS may be a legitimate murder defense, but caffeine withdrawal. Not so much.

When I started blogging, I made some adjustments, too. I had to sacrifice porn surfing for blogging. Oh, and I guess I sacrificed some work time as well. But I was willing to make that sacrifice. Guess it was more of a sacrifice for my bosses.

Well, I am not on a good schedule for blogging right now. I wanted to do a Tuesday-Thursday thing, but it has not worked out by now. Guess I need to adjust myself. Just making an adjustment.

VP Contender Sarah Palin hacked

I saw this somewhere, and the original story follows. The site for the story is here, but as you would expect, the server is extremely busy and sometimes down.

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WIKILEAKS STAFF (Wikileaks)
Wednesday September 16, 2008


The internet activist group "Anonymous," famed for its exposure of unethical behavior by the Scientology cult, has now gone after the Alaskan govenor and republican Vice-Presidential candidate Sarah Palin.

At around midnight last night some members affiliated with the group gained access to governor Palin's email account "gov.palin@yahoo.com" and handed over the contents to the government sunshine site Wikileaks.org.


One of the family photos from the accountGovernor Palin has come under media criticism in the past week for using private email accounts to avoid Alaskan freedom of information laws. The contents of the mailbox show this to be true and also hold clues of at least one other Yahoo based mail account held by Palin, "gov.sarah@yahoo.com".

The zip archive made available by Wikileaks contains screen shots of Palin's inbox, two example emails, address book and a couple of family photos. The list of correspondence, together with the account name tends to re-enforce the earlier criticism of Palin's email use.

The list of emails include an exchange with Alaskan Lieutenant Governor Sean Parnell about his campaign for Congress. Another screenshot shows Palin's inbox and an e-mail from Amy McCorkell, whom Palin appointed to the Governor's Advisory Board on Alcoholism and Drug Abuse in 2007.

The e-mail, a message of support to Palin, tells her not to let negative press get to her and asks Palin to pray for McCorkell, who writes that "I need strength to 1. keep employment, 2. not have to choose."

According to Kim Zetter of Wired Magazine, McCorkell confirmed that she did send the e-mail to Palin.

Subsequently tests by Wikileaks reveal that both Palin's "gov.palin@yahoo.com" and her unrelated "gov.sarah@yahoo.com" account have now been deleted, almost certainly by Palin herself.

According to the Guardian, who has looked at the Wikileaks data, among the emails in Palin's account were several from addresses belonging to her aides, including a draft letter to California governor Arnold Schwarzenegger, a discussion of nominations to the state court of appeals, and several bearing "DPS", the acronym for the Alaska Department of Public Safety.

DPS supervises the Alaska state troopers. Could the e-mails in question be relevant to the brewing ethics storm over Palin's push to sack her former brother-in-law from the force?

The contact list included also holds accounts for other official representative's private email accounts, including those of Alaska's Kris Perry and Sharon Leighow.

Screenshots and other details follow:

Slutty Writer at Your Service

I have been asked this a lot. "Leesa", my public says, "you write a shit-load of erotica. Are these from your own personal experiences?"

My public is a bit vulgar. And by "my public", I am talking about a few stalkers. Stalkers seem to be vulgar, live in basements, look down on people who eat Ramen but eat fast food, and have an alphabetized porn collection.

The erotica I write is not a blow-by-blow encounter of my life (if only) - but there are elements of truth in all of the stories. Some are truer than others, but all are a mixture of truth and fantasy. I mean, I don't want to give my brother-in-law a blow job. That is just wrong. And some girlfriend did not tie me up and leave me to be found by my husband (that one was mostly fantasy).

I think we all want to express ourselves in some way or another. Paris Hilton shows her pussy in public. I write. To each her own. Well, I am going to write another chapter for my book. Or surf the Internet, looking for Paris Hilton upskirts.

Patriot Day

Today is a holiday: Patriot Day.

I am not really sure I understand Patriot Day. As I have said previously, I don't get how being in a building on the wrong day at the wrong time makes on a hero/patriot. I know the terrorists were psycho douchbags. I get that.

But as Americans, we kinda piss people off. It does not mean that the people we piss off have a right to run into two of the World Trade Center Buildings or the Pentagon. I am not saying that. We should not, however, be surprised when psycho douchbags do bad things.

We already have Independence Day (a patriotic day), President's Day (a patriotic day), Veteran's Day (a patriotic day) and Memorial Day (a patriotic day). I don't see the need for another patriotic day. Unless the Mail carrier's union is pushing to get another holiday, a few years down the road.

Me, I am taking the day off. After all, a few years ago, 19 people walked onto planes to visit various New York and Washington, DC attractions. And we have not been the same since.

Glass Ceilings

The below video part of an interview with Diane Greene, who was the president of VMware. Yeah, I don't know what VMware does, but here is a short snippet from the announcement of the change of leadership:

VMware’s Board of Directors announced today that it has made a change in the leadership of the company with the departure of Diane Greene as President and CEO. VMware’s Board of Directors has appointed Paul Maritz as President and CEO of VMware effective immediately. Maritz was also named to VMware’s Board of Directors.

Joe Tucci, Chairman of VMware’s Board of Directors said “VMware is in a tremendous position to extend its lead in the virtualization market. VMware’s Board of Directors is very pleased to be able to appoint an executive with Paul’s experience and track record to lead VMware to its next stage of growth and development. Paul is a leader in the software industry. He has decades of experience building one of the greatest franchises in software history, Windows. Paul was instrumental as part of the core executive leadership team in building much of Microsoft’s success.



When I was in school, middle school or so, I can remember a push at school to get us (and by us, I mean girls) more interested in science. I don't remember the school focusing on math, but I do remember a push in science. I don't want to quote a lot of statistics (because it would be so hard to look them up), so I will make some up.

In the 1980s there were not too many women doctors. Now, there are a bunch of them. As a woman who sees a doctor for yearly checkups, I would just like to say, "Thank goodness." Lots of women in healthcare. But not lots of women in IT. Personally, I think more men are attracted to IT because of the porn. But I don't have statistics to back me up on that one.

Now we have a woman VP candidate: Sarah Palin. She certainly reminds us that women certainly have come a long way, baby. I mean, she can field dress a moose, give money to Alaskans in the form of oil rebates, and become John McCain's running mate. The first woman presidential candidate was Victoria Woodhull (in 1872) with the Equal Rights Party (her running mate was Frederick Douglass). The first woman with a shot at the White House was Geraldine Ferraro. Okay, with a presidential nominee like Walter Mondale, perhaps Sarah Palin may be the first candidate with a legitimate shot at the White House. I am not saying I am going to vote for McCain. Actually, I don't know who I am going to vote for.

Perhaps her middle school had a science program, too. I mean, where else do you learn to dress a moose. Guess McCain lost the PETA vote with his selection. Oh, and I like what Diane Greene said about glass ceilings - if you don't like them, build the house.

Television Series Preview

I am not sure I am "back" or not. I have been thinking quite a bit about my blog – well, sometimes. Actually, it was very easy to just stop thinking about writing in my blog three times per week. It became a chore, writing all of the time. But something in my brain would look at something I saw and I would think, "I need to write about it in my blog." My brain became wired that way. Son-of-a-bitch.

Anyway, I had a lot of experiences this summer that I wanted to write about. I had a pretty interesting summer – and had a lot of fun. Crap, I sort of feel like the fifth grader that came back from summer, wanting to tell all of her friends about the summer. But I have not been that little girl in a very long time.

One of the things that I did this summer was to spend more than a week with a college friend – my rich college friend. I see her every once in a while, mostly for lunch. Anyway, hubbie was traveling on business for a while, and instead of be miserable and lonely, I spent some time with her.

I will tell you more about the trip later, but one thing that I did while with my girlfriend was watch a new show: Captain Cook's Extraordinary Atlas. And get this. The show is not yet available for the general public. I don't really know even if it will be picked up, but it was sort of cool being able to see a pilot before it was scheduled.

I really should not reveal anything about the pilot (it reminded me a lot of Spiderwick Chronicles), but it was way cool. And I don't even watch television. Now saying that, perhaps they are already promoting the television show. If they are, please remember I live under a rock and don't get out much. But it is sorta cool to have had a preview before the series aired.

Anyway, apparently there are lots of copies of movies, television shows and what not that are for preview only. This must have been one of those shows.

A short post, I know. But I just wanted to write this down before I forgot the whole name of the television show. It felt more like a movie than a TV show. Really cool.

Shovel Buddies

Last week, I heard a story about someone . . .

Well, read the AP story for yourself:

MAYFLOWER, Ark. – Auctioneers preparing for an estate sale Saturday morning made a scary discovery among the items up for bid – a suitcase full of military-grade explosives.

The rusted, padlocked suitcase sat alongside a porcelain coffee service set and other goods.

Auctioneers opened the suitcase, which belonged to a deceased former member of the U.S. Navy, just before the sale and found three blocks of military-grade C-4 plastic explosive, two tubes of a similar plastic explosive, a blasting cap and some dynamite.

Workers quickly called 911, and the Conway Fire Department's bomb squad collected the materials, drove them to an isolated spot and destroyed them, according to the Log Cabin Democrat.

When I heard the story in the car, the first thing I thought to myself was, "Too bad the guy did not have a shovel buddy." A shovel buddy is someone who has agreed to, after you have died, discretely get rid of all of your "loose ends." For most of this, this may involve adult toys that we don't want our friends and family to ever know about. You know, after losing granny, we really don’t want to tarnish the image with imagining her using a vibrator on . . . you get the picture (sorry).

A while back, I was a shovel buddy. That's actually how I found out about the term. A girlfriend of mine asked me to be her shovel buddy, not because we were best friends but because we were good friends and I was discrete and responsible. She had a toy chest that I was to dispose of if she and her husband were to die about the same time. And I was sort of fine with that arrangement. She gave me a key and a bit more information about her sex life than I wanted to know. Oh, and I was to dispose of her adult movies as well. Apparently her brother-in-law had a bookstore and she had a lot of adult movies. This was a few years ago, so they were movies, not DVDs, as I recall. Well, we have drifted apart a bit – and she took the key back and said she would find someone else to perform the task.

I was a bit hurt and a bit relieved. I was hurt because she took away a unique responsibility I had. And I sort of wanted to know what types of toys she had as well. But I was relieved because if anyone caught me removing property, well, I am pretty sure I would be trespassing and stealing, according to the law. Even if the deceased wanted me to do it. I mean the theft would be nothing like grand larceny (unless she had one of those Sybian machines). I mean, I am not sure I could explain this to the police.

Leesa: Yes, officer, what seems to be the problem.

Police Officer: Ma'am. We got a call from a neighbor. The occupant of this residence has recently become deceased, and the neighbor is concerned that you are not a family member.

Leesa: I am just picking up a few items that are . . . mine.

Police Officer: I count seven vibrators in this box. What was the nature of your relationship?

And then my mug shot would be on the news that evening. Something about lesbian larceny (they like those types of news items – they rhyme, the have sex and lesbians and they are weird. Forever more I would be known as a lesbian.

When all I ever wanted to be was her shovel buddy.