Should for some reason the president not be able to complete his term, the first runner up is...!

Anyone not under a rock today knows that McCain chose Alaska Governor, Sarah Palin, as his running mate.

Rich is impressed that she is a lifetime member of the NRA, she hunts, eats moose, plays basketball and was a runner up in the Miss Alaska pageant 25 years ago.

I am impressed that she got into office through grass-roots, start by making a difference in your own backyard kind of mentality and quickly got herself elected governor. I am impressed that she has an 80% approval rating and she has 5 kids!!! (I have 4 kids and run a household and I'm not sure I have even an 8% approval rating.)

However, she and her husband "The First Dude" (not kidding.) named their 5 kids: Track, Bristol, Willow, Piper and Trig. (Trig!?)

This really brings her judgment into question.

Hooray for Hollywood

My best friend, Eva, has a role in the new Samuel L. Jackson movie, Lakeview Terrace. This looks really good... I'd see this even if Eva wasn't in it.



I believe she plays an Internal Affairs officer who looks into the complaints about Jackson's character. It opens September 19th.
So, um, go see it.

We already know it weighs more than she does.

A solid gold sculpture of Kate Moss? Worth 2.8 million?

Think of its worth, had the crazy artist sculpted it from cocaine! And then it truly would be representative of Ms. Moss.

You're not the boss of me!

I've lost a reader.

My husband. I lean left, he is firmly planted on the right. Dinner conversations have often been, uh, lively.

He began to read my posted response to my brother-in-law and he got so irritated he had to shut down the page. We have had the "point is completely lost in the delivery" debate over Ann Coulter before.

I'm paraphrasing, but I pretty much got: Your stuff used to be funny and now it's just dry and boring. And you don't know what you're talking about and it's poorly written. I'm not reading this anymore.

The minute I begin writing with an eye for what someone else might think about it, I've lost the purpose of this blog. It's for me. If other people like it in the meantime - that's great. No? Then don't read it.

It's a good thing I know he prefers brunettes to blondes or I might be worried.

Dear Uncle Jayson,

I love this! Debate! Yay! I've decided that from now on when someone leaves a full blown response, as opposed to just a comment, it gets its own post.

My wonderful brother-in-law and I have had several political discussions (much to my sister's chagrin) and the discussion continues here:

I suppose it was only a matter of time before I expected you to make a comment. For once, I actually agree with you...'only' on Ann Coulter. As a life long Republican (recently leaning to In dependant), Ann's comments can grate even on me when she fills in for Bill. She does have a tendency to steam roll guests and points.

I can't throw any stones when it comes to steamrolling during a discussion (what with my living in a glass house and all...)

My contention with Ann Coulter is not that she is a strong, pushy, arrogant kind of personality, but that she is vicious and hateful. She is the kind of woman who would have been first in line to sign up and join the Nazi party. Back in the day, she would have been goose-stepping right along with the rest of them, confident that her religion, race and country were the right way, the only way to be.

She is a horrible woman at her core, but I think she steps it up to a synthetic evil in order to gain publicity and sell books. Pretty funny for someone who calls left leaning people godless. She distracts people from real issues by stirring up hate and controversy. And she likes it that way. Why? Because she is a publicity whore. She is an elitist, arrogant, hateful bitch. (With anorexia.)

To loosely borrow a line from one of my favorite movies "How can you put up with people who claim to love America, but clearly can't stand Americans?" **

While Bill can bloviate at times, I really do feel he is much more fair and in touch with the common person. Perhaps you notice it more only because 90% of the other pundits always take the soft or PC approach, usually paralleling a point than actually addressing a straight question posed to them and thus the audience has been conditioned to accept a certain way of presentation that has been dominate the last 30 years in media.

First, kudos on the $5 word. Good one! I don't think Bill O'Reilly is "more fair and in touch with the common person." I'm guessing that the common person doesn't appreciate anchors or pundits yelling. I don't listen to people when they rant and rave. Maybe I'm too distracted by the throbbing vein in the middle of his forehead. Or maybe it's that his point is lost in all the shouting. While Ann Coulter is an emotionless cow, Bill O'Reilly seems to take everything too
personally. There is a vast difference between being passionate about your position and being emotional about it. Anger is an emotion. It doesn't work when trying to make your point.

I'm always amazed at polls, because I always wonder who they actually speak to. Unless myself and most of my friends are living in a vacuum, the 'reasoning' they conclude behind issues always blows me away and seems quite contrary to the average 'Joe' (if there is an average Joe anymore). I find this much more with the left, however, the right has also made some gaffs as of late in assuming what the people want.

Lets first keep in mind that polls can be made to show whatever the pollster wants:

1. Would you like to increase welfare benefits or would you like to kick a puppy?
2. Would you like to decrease welfare benefits or would you like to kick a puppy?

No one wants to kick a puppy (except maybe for Ann Coulter.) The point is that based on that poll question, if you choose #1 you're a Bed-Wetting Democrat and if you choose #2 you are a Black-Hearted Republican. Polls (and statistics) can be made to support whatever issue the polling organization wants it to support.

What both sides of the aisle don't seem to understand is that the people in the middle of the spectrum, which is most of America, want to both help people in need and puppies. So you're right, Uncle Jayson, in that most polls don't adequately reflect the needs and wants of the American people. But also, I am convinced that most career politicians, and definitely the presidential candidates, are making overall general and erroneous assumptions about what we want.

Anyway, I'm pontificating here. Hopefully you don't consider all of us 'nut jobs' because some of us want to cut through the standard BS and scripted answers and actually get to the meat that affects us. And believe me, if you think I'm happy about McCain and the GOP as of late, I'm not...absolutely not. I consider myself an average middle income person, and I feel (especially living in CA) that my party not only forgot about us, but is acting out in some alternate universe up in Sacramento and Washington as of late.

I'm sorry, but you aren't yelling that the "other side" is inherently evil and should be boycotted or killed, so you do not qualify as a "nut job." At least not on that basis.

I am not happy with my party either. I haven't been for the last two presidential election cycles and I end up voting for the lesser of two evils. Not a fun way to choose a candidate, and unfortunately I will be doing so in this election as well.

Overall, while I understand your point that shows like O'Reilly may be just as bad in your opinion as those they claim to bias

Yes, that was one of my points, but one of the main points I wanted to make (and I guess I didn't) was this: even a broken clock is right twice a day. The freak on roller skates, standing at the corner of a busy intersection, holding up a sign that says "Jesus Loves You!" is right. He is spot on, absolutely right. But you know what? He actually turns people away from Jesus because he is trying to deliver his message in such a freakish and unsettling manner.

It is entirely possible that Ann Coulter has some valid points in there somewhere. Most of us will never know, because whatever she says is so toxic and awful that we don't bother to try to find any truth in her words. We turn away and look for the information from a source that isn't snarling.

I hope you also take into consideration shows like his is the closest thing that the right has to any representation on cable right now. His 1/2 hour show is but one that presents an opposing viewpoint to the other 10+ shows who pander to the more liberal interpretations that surround the same time blocks

Well, he and Rush Limbaugh both are certainly in partnership when it comes to incendiary comments and complaining about the liberals. But I wouldn't say that they are representative of all conservatives, any more than Al Franken is representative of all liberals.

I don't know what to tell you about the low number of right wing cable shows. Perhaps they don't have enough of a following? I know that Rich almost never gets his news from the TV media any more - he searches it out online and educates himself. However, since most Americans don't do this, I would think it would be in the right's best interest not to offend the middle ground and tip them towards the left... assuming that there really is bias in the media.

Still love ya.

Still love ya, too.

** "The American President". Michael Douglas? Annette Benning? A political chick flick. Love it!!

Please pass the nuts.

I was in a bar last night (What? I can meet a girlfriend for a drink if I want to) and the TV was tuned to DNC coverage. Then the channel was changed to FOX news, where Bill O'Reilly proceeded to cover the coverage other networks were providing. He was beating his Media Bias Drum to the point where (shocker) he just sounded like a whining, petulant, nutbar.

I'm sorry, but delivery is so important. He may have a perfectly valid point, but he will not be able to make that point if he turns off the audience the minute he opens his mouth. (Ann Coulter really needs to learn this lesson.)

And really, who is he trying to convince by making this point? If he's going for the Preaching To The Choir audience, doesn't he already have them? But if he's trying to convince a Non-Believer or an On The Fence, Not Sure person, like say... me, he needs to provide evidence with out ranting and name calling.

Now whether bias in the media is a real, pervasive problem or not, don't the people jumping up and down about it (Bill & Ann) skew the public perception just as much as these "biased" networks do? By being so obnoxious and so abrasive and downright vitriolic (Ann!), all they accomplish is to highlight the fact that everyone else in the media seems sane and rational. CNN, MSNBC etc all seem more credible when compared to the hysterical shouting.

Their caustic rantings actually makes the left seem attractive to the moderates in the same way that the Al Sharptons and the Jesse Jacksons make the right seem attractive. When loud people who are slammed all the way to one side of the spectrum start spewing this crap, all they succeed in doing is firing up the nut jobs who already agree with them and turning off the people they're trying to sway. How do you induce change like that?

I know lots of liberals and I don't think they're godless. I know lots of conservatives and I don't think they're money-grubbing fat cats. There is a balance to be had. Not only within parties but within indivduals. They're called moderates.

I'm pretty sure that one of the worst ways to sway someone's opinion is to lump them into one, big general population (and I'm talking about both parties) and say that they're the devil. Start insulting them, name calling, and then try to convince them that you're right. Yeah. That'll work.

Except in the case of Ann Coulter. (That bitch really is the devil)

Shampoo bottle avalanche? Not in my shower.

Dad Gone Mad is a blog I check every morning. The guy who writes it is really funny, and what I find interesting is that even though it is written from the male point of view, I find myself connecting with the Dad as much or more than I connect with the Mom.

Case in point: a shower caddy. He tried to organize all of her shower crap. She hated the caddy and called it hideous. Crazy. No one looks in the shower but the "showerer". Would she refuse a closet shelving system because it isn't attractive? Organization is a wonderful thing.

Rich has:

• 1 bottle of combination shampoo/conditioner (a real beauty no-no if you ask me)
• 1 bar of deodorant soap.

On average I have:

• 2 bottles of shampoo (1 for colored hair, 1 for the occasional dry scalp issue) (shut up.)
• 1 bottle of conditioner
• 1 or 2 bottles of shower wash
• 1 tube of face wash
• 1 jar of exfoliating sugar scrub (with ground peach seeds too!)
• 1 tube of pomegranate scrub for feet
• 1 tube of apricot scrub for feet and hands
• 1 set of exfoliating wash gloves
• 1 or 2 razors
• a hair clip

Why do I need all of this crap?

Well for one, the shower is the only place where no one can bother me. I can be sitting on the toilet and still be able to hear "Mom!? Mooooom!? Where are you?" However, I can't hear anything over the drum of the shower. A good reason to stay in there a long time. Also, I can be in sweats afterwards, with no make-up and my hair shoved in a ball cap... and I'll still feel OK, knowing that underneath that slouchy ensemble I am soft, I smell good and I have on nice underwear.

And yes. I do turn the bottles upside down when they're getting low. (I hate to waste anything.) Yes, I do understand that makes them tippy and they fall. That is why a shower caddy is a good thing. My only complaint is that they're too small. I think someone should invent a shower shelving system. I'd buy that in a New York minute.

I figure Rich will be more appreciative of my exfoliating, shampooing, conditioning routine if he is not injured in the process.

Tonight's secret ingredient is....!

Conner is getting braces. He got the brackets, spaces and a bite plate last week and has had trouble speaking and eating ever since. (Well, to be honest, he's always had trouble speaking and eating, it's just that now he has a good excuse.)

I made pulled pork sandwiches for dinner. I warned that there may still be a bone or two, and for everyone to be careful. Conner bit down on something, but said he wasn't sure if it was a bone or a hard, caramelized piece of pork. (Whatever. You simmer pork for an hour and a half, being distracted by kids, etc and see if you are perfect.)

Since he can't open his mouth very well we sent him to the bathroom to complete the extraction of this hard object. Upon his return to the table we asked "so what was it?... "

"I'm not sure. It looked like a miniature tree stump."

I will not make fun of my mother's Hummel collection again. I will not make fun of my mother's Hummel collection again. I will not make fun....

If you know someone who collects crap like this, perhaps you should consider ending the relationship.

If you can't end the relationship for some reason (for example, your grandma collects them) here are some alternative gift ideas, so that you don't become an enabler:

• A feather duster
• A straight jacket
• A gift certificate to The Franklin Mint (crap, but still better than resin monkey/baby mutants)
• A subscription to In Style Home
• Hip-Hop dance lessons
• A lighter, so they can burn their money more conveniently

Any of those things is better than these figurines.

There's a girl in my breakfast cereal.

My good friend Chris and her daughter, Lauren, spent the night at my house last night. Chris works nearby and needs to take Lauren to a dental appointment (wisdom teeth - bummer) this afternoon. It makes total sense that they spent the night because that way Chris has a 4 mile commute instead of a 40 mile commute and Lauren can hang out here instead of waiting at her mom's office for 6 hours or so.

Lauren is 13 years old. Devin has just turned 16... certainly old enough to know how to appropriately handle the following situation:

When you went to bed last night, there were just your regular family members at the house. You did not listen yesterday when mom mentioned at least 5 times that Chris and Lauren were spending the night. When you woke up this morning, there was a cute girl sitting at the breakfast table. Should you:

a) say, "Hi, I'm Devin" and allow her to introduce herself to you?

b) hope she says something to you first?

c) find your mom and ask her what's going on?

d) pretend you don't see her, walk past her and proceed to fix your breakfast 4 feet away from her without saying a thing to her or even acknowledging her presence because you are a giant dork?

The answer is d..... shocker.

Well, then that's different.

We went to the cabin this weekend. Rich was working on a project outside, tools scattered all around. Grant picked up one of the tools.

"Put that down Grant. It's not a toy."
"I'm not using it as a toy."

Still in mourning, sorry.

I guess there is a new video game , where the object is to defend the WTC Twin Towers from space aliens.

It's attached to an art exhibit of some kind, but it is still a game that is using 9/11 as a premise. Waaaaaaaaaaaaay too soon to be making games like that. I'm not sure that a video game based on Pearl Harbor would be appropriate yet. (For all I know there is one.)

This goes beyond distasteful. It's disrespectful to the families of the 9/11 victims. It is opportunistic and sleazy to capitalize on the deaths of more than 3,000 people in order to turn a profit.

Goodwill my ass.

Instead of Spring Cleaning, I'm doing End of Summer cleaning. Going through kids' closets and seeing what can be passed down to another brother, what is for Goodwill, what's only good enough for the rag bag, etc... I'm also clearing out just a lot of Stuff. Vases, picture frames, old linens, and things that I'm just storing because I have pack-rat-like tendencies.

So I packed up the Suburban and went to my nearest Goodwill donation center. There I found a member of the Goodwill Gestapo, clipboard in hand, frowning at the bounty of nice household items and clothing I was trying to drop off.

"We only take appliances if they're working."
"These are working, I just don't use them anymore" (An electric chicken rotisserie? Please. Why did we ever even have that?)
"We don't take shredders or fax machines. We don't take any baby items except clothing. We don't take toys that have been opened."

Geez. Will you take books that have been read?
Will you take clean towels that once dried something wet?
Will you take clean sheets that have been slept on?
Pots and pans that have been cooked with?
Picture frames that once held pictures?
Clothing or shoes that have been worn?

Wasn't the whole point of Goodwill Industries was to give people who were disabled a chance to work and provide good household items at a low cost in their stores? I'd have better luck trying to find a Neiman Marcus donation site.

WreckYourHomeLifeHurtYourChildren-LeadWithYourGenitals.com UPDATE

OK, I'm always the last to know.

It appears that this website has been up and running since January 2002 (5.5 years!!) and has just under 2.5 million dicks, I mean members, across the country. Wow. I am not up on the latest smarmy websites. I'm not doing a good job of keeping tabs on the underbelly of society.

Where have I been? Oh, that's right: loving my husband and kids.

Thanks anyway, but I'll keep the termites.

The mission of Moxie Pest Control is to increase the standard of living and the quality of life for clients, employees, and the community through safe, dependable pest control service.

Really?

Do you think my quality of life has been increased when you show up on my doorstep with your company shirt and your clipboard and refuse to move when I tell you: "No thank you. We already have a quarterly service plan with Western Exterminators." Also, in case you haven't noticed, I am on the phone (as would be evidenced by the phone on the side of my face).

I try to close the door. No response from Moxie Man, no effort to move out of my doorway. Literally, no response, as in no words at all, just creepy staring. I start to close the door again. He isn't moving, he's just staring. I get the feeling he would stand there for hours, his nose 3 inches from a closed door... just staring. I finally shooed him away, but Holy Perserverence, Batman!

Hello Moxie Pest Control? Hi, I would like to report a pest problem. Yeah, your salesman.

Why not call it WreckYourHomeLifeHurtYourChildren-LeadWithYourGenitals.com ?

OK, I have a real problem with this too.

There is another online dating service that people can join. A dating service for married people who want to discretely "date" other people. Their slogan? Life is short. Have an affair.

I know that people have affairs. But they shouldn't. Isn't this public promotion of seedy behavior going to far?

This site has apparently been profiled on Fox News, 20/20, the Ellen DeGeneres show, etc. A public spotlight on this stupid site, even one that is protesting it, only draws more attention and publicity to it. People don't need help to have an affair. It's bad enough that people often let themselves fall into one. Now, people who are just a bit unhappy in their own relationship, or who are simply curious, can have some one do the legwork to help them make this adulterous choice.

Rich made a really good point regarding the Part-Time Swinger post below. I'm paraphrasing, but basically: Go ahead and live your alternative lifestyle. Whatever. But when you publicly flaunt that alternative lifestyle, you can expect to be judged.

And I'm judging. It's wrong. It's selfish. It's immoral. End of story.

Dear "Part Time Swinger"

Thank you for the very interesting point of view you left in COMMENTS about the Kevin & Bean KROQ Swingers Party. There is so much I'd like to say that I think a new post is in order:

"Yeah, you kinda ARE a prude but then again not really. To be accurate, you're typical. You grew up with typical social programming and even though it's obvious with half of marriages ending in divorce, you're still "one of those" who subscribe to the fairy tale."

If I am considered typical, in that swinging seems wrong to me, then I will happily accept that label. Social programming isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Social programming, paired with a general idea of right and wrong, helped to produce laws that we need in our society: Stealing is bad, it’s not OK to murder people, etc.

What does the divorce rate have to do with fairy tales? A solid marriage shouldn’t be a fairy tale, but rather a goal. Marriages that fail often don’t set a goal. People give up, or give in to a sort of “Moral ADD” that makes them incapable of working on the things that are the most worthwhile. We have a society that is very much geared towards instant gratification. If it’s too tough, quit. If it feels good, do it.

"Your complaint is valid but mostly because it's an adult subject and the show occurs in the morning and kids listen. Oh but btw:kids these days are throwing "rainbow parties" so get over it. (Google "Rainbow Parties" in case you don't know what that is)You should take a closer look at your reaction. You may sleep well, but does your husband?"

My complaint is valid on several levels.
Not only that it is an adult subject and that the KROQ audience includes people of all ages, but that this party has corporate sponsorship and that it is being promoted.

Your contention that there are young people having rainbow parties therefore I should “get over it” makes absolutely no sense at all.   That’s like saying there’s a humanitarian crisis in Darfur, but the Tibetans are being oppressed, so get over it.   Huh?   One bad thing (or icky immoral thing) isn’t made better just because something similar is also happening.

Why should I take a closer look at my reaction?
There is no psychological mystery as to why I feel this way.
There isn’t something missing in my life or relationship.
This isn’t a knee-jerk reaction.
This is me, willing to live and let live as far as what others do with their sexuality. I might not agree with your choices, but hey, that’s your gig.  My issue is that your sexual behavior (which is NOT the norm or even close to it) should not be promoted on a corporate level.  It should not be celebrated as “hey this is great! Let’s all do this.”

And I sleep very well, as does my husband, who agrees with me on this issue and shakes his head as he hears about this contest… just as I do.

"Infidelity is rampant, so why is it somehow gross or empty to be honest and explore those feelings with the one person you are supposed to trust above all others? It's like when the guy steps out on his wife because he can't do "those kind of things" with his wife. It's ridiculous."

Infidelity is rampant because people are lazy, selfish and have lost their moral compass. It is incredibly rare that a man has an affair simply because his wife won’t give him a blow job. There is usually quite a bit more to it.

Everyone has certain thoughts and urges.  Everyone has looked at someone other than their partner and had a little “hey, hmm, look at that! yummy!” kind of moment.  The difference is that some people channel those thoughts and urges right back into their relationship and others act on their impulse.  I say that swinging is gross and empty because it is something that even if it brings you closer initially, it will fail you in the end.  Empty.

"Once upon a time people put the same connotations on gays, that they lived a sick and perverted lifestyle. I wonder if you are "one of those" too?"

Nope. I’m not “one of those.” One of my best friends is gay, I have relatives who are gay. The difference between being gay and being a swinger is that one of those things is a conscious choice that is being made.

"Monogamy was a form of ownership of women and didn't extend to the male of
the relationship, marriage was about power and money and the consolidation of
both."

Monogamy is between two people. 

Polygamy is where monogamous attributes didn’t (and don’t) extend to one of the people, and yes, usually the male. 

You sound like a smart guy.  I would think you are aware of this difference between “poly” and “mono” as far as prefixes go.

"Knock knock, it's the 21st century and a lot of people have figured out that variety has altered our perception of romance, relationships and what is really important in life. Pick up a sociology book or even a science book- humans are NOT predisposed to be monogamous. It's a choice and in this era there are more choices than ever and more information as well.I'm not telling anyone how to live or love and really, who is judge enough to do so?"

Knock knock - that's cute.  Yes, it is the 21st century.  And your point is… what?   Variety has altered our perception of “what is really important in life” …? What is important in life to you?   What is this “more information” that you say is available?   Please keep in mind that “perception” is not always the same thing as reality.

Yes, let’s pick up some books. I’ve picked up my share of sociology and science books. If you want to get scientific about things, it was the males who wanted to roam about, impregnating everything they saw. It was the females who tended to be monogamous in order to have protection for themselves and their babies. Males wanted them to be monogamous so they could be certain of their own offspring. There are many animal groups who do practice a sort of serial monogamy, in addition to those animals who really do mate for life and raise their offspring.

But let’s also pick up the bible and add a theological argument to the scientific one. Who did the humans start out with: Adam and Eve. Not Adam and Eve and Lisa. Not Adam and Eve and Lisa and Bill.

I’m not telling anyone how to live or love either.  I am always interested to hear other people’s views.   I have my opinions, and on my blog, they reign supreme.   I understand full well that in society at large, my opinion matters very little.  However, still I don’t think a swinger’s lifestyle should be promoted in a contest.

"Keep that in mind when you look at your gay friends. Unless, of course, you're "one of those" and you don't have any."

-"Part Time Swinger"

"PS: Yes my girlfriend and I sometimes play around, but it's not our whole lives. We're not sick perverts and I'm sometimes amazed to find that our relationship is WAAAAAY stronger than that of our "regular" friends', especially after 4 years. We deal in honesty, openess and truth and how many couples can you say that about???"

Honesty.

Openness.

Truth.

Honesty can be brutal. Openness is sometimes the opposite of intimacy.  The truth can hurt.

You can have those things and still not have love, trust and security.   You can have those things and still not have a best friend.   You can have those things and still not be happy in your relationship.
By the way, I can say that most of the couples I know have all of these attributes.

And no one is fucking other people in order to achieve it.

Best of luck to you.

I am NOT Lot's wife.

Would you enter a contest where these things are part of the prize package?

• Moral bankruptcy
• The undermining of any trust in your relationship
• An STD
• The selling of your soul in pursuit of hedonism
• A weekend of debauchery that will inspire guilt and bad feelings forever after
• Your personal contribution to the further disintegration of society's moral fabric

Do these things sound good?

Well! Then KROQ's F'Monogomy Swingers Party in Vegas is just the thing for you!!

I am not a prude and I'm not blind. I know that there is a segment of society who thinks it is fun to have sex with other couples and attend private swingers parties. Gross. Sad. Empty.

However, when I wake up to morning radio and hear people begging for passes to a corporately sponsored Swingers Party, it goes beyond sad and empty. It is morally reprehensible. This "party" will be held at Caesar's Palace in Vegas. It is sponsored by a new FOX TV show and the Vegas Tourism Board. You know, the What-Happens-In-Vegas-Stays-In-Vegas people. This is not some sneaky, underground activity... It is being promoted on the radio and has corporate sponsors!

Like I said, I'm not a prude, but I definitely have a big problem where morality and social norms are kicked to the curb in such a public way.

This is one of the most popular radio stations in Southern California. (I have listened to it since I was 13 years old.) What does it say about our community that this crap is not only going out over the airways, it is being promoted as normal and actually healthy for relationships that may have become a little routine?!

And the people calling in! They are describing that they either need to "spice up" their relationship or that they "do this" all the time and would love the opportunity to be flown to Vegas to "do it" there. And they need to send in their photos in order to make sure they are attractive enough. Just ew.

Will I stop listening to this station? Probably not. The music is too good. Will I stop listening to the Kevin & Bean morning show? Certainly for right now I will. I will ask my husband (who I love, sleep with and next to everyday, with never a thought that this has gotten routine and perhaps we should have sex with other people's spouses to add some zing), I will ask him to change the "Wake to Radio" option to "Deafening Buzzer" option on our alarm clock.

Deafening Buzzer will be much more soothing way to wake up.

There's a fine line between uninformed and stupid.

My boys have KP every night after dinner. I cooked the dinner, they can clean up. Invariably, one of them finishes before everyone else and gets started on their share of the clean up. Rich and I have gotten tired of them interrupting our dinner (we actually try to enjoy our meal by chewing and swallowing our food, as opposed to acting like snakes swallowing goats) with their stupid questions. (And yes, there are stupid questions.)

Mom, where does this go?
What should I do with this?
Should I use a Tupperware container that is too big or one that is too small?
Do I have to clean all of the kitchen or just the part I am standing in?
Should I put perishables back in the fridge or leave them out all night to spoil?
Is the stove-top part of the kitchen?
Where do we keep the Windex?
Are the dishes in the dishwasher clean or dirty?
Do we save salt and pepper?

On and on and on. We are bugged by these questions because each of the 3 big boys has asked each question at least 4-5 times. You do the math. I want to tell them Hey! Why don't you put your stuff away and move in with us?

While I am bugged by stupid questions they already know the answer to, I welcome legitimate queries. One that should have been asked and wasn't:

"What is this big gnarly root looking thing and should I throw it away or save it?"

That root thing is fresh ginger and is expensive. Please do not throw it away.
Devin threw it away last night because "I didn't know what it was and you get mad at me when I ask you questions." I was preparing a quick dinner until I spent 20 minutes looking for a ginger root that the garbage man took away this morning. I'd just say Screw it, you all get Sloppy Joes as punishment, but I know they'd like that.

Please use your head. It's that thing you're supposed to be shampooing.

I cannot tell you who.
I cannot tell you why.
I certainly cannot tell you how.

All I can tell you is that all of the bath toys and toothbrushes from the boys' bathroom are currently going through an extra hot, super duper cycle in the dishwasher. And will probably be put through again, just to be thorough.

It's moment like these that it is truly amazing I'm not sitting catatonic, drooling, and muttering to myself about HazMat Crews and idiot children....

Bedtime Story.

"Mom, will you read me?" (That's not a typo: "read me")

"I already did, but you may take a book to bed and read it to yourself."

A love of reading is a good thing, but I would think it's uncomfortable.

When in Rome, mangia bene!!

Confused sea turtles march into Italian restaurant. Well, yeah. Everyone likes Italian food!

Don't take the apple.

I forgot about this:

When we were camping last month, I took Grant into the women's bathroom to get him ready for bed. There was a woman in a stall when we arrived, but Grant didn't notice. He yakked non-stop while I got him ready, even trying to talk with the toothbrush in his mouth.

As we finished up, the woman emerged from the stall. She was wearing a large purple sweatshirt and had the hood up. Crazy gray hair peeked out from underneath the hood. Instead of a flashlight, she had a lantern. She was very old and wrinkly, had a chin that curved up and a nose that hooked down. She had a Sarah Jessica Parker mole on her chin. (OK, the mole that SJP used to have on her chin.)

Grant's eyes got huge and I could hear him take a sharp inhale of breath. I knew exactly what he was thinking. I shoved the toothbrush back in his mouth and kept him from talking. Fortunately, the lady washed up and left quickly. When she was gone, Grant looked up at me and said in complete awe: "Mom, it was the Snow White lady!"

Where's my emergency sewing kit? And I'd like some Visine, please.

I am the kind of person who will pull you aside and let you know if you have spinach on your tooth, or a booger, or toilet paper stuck to your shoe. I would hope someone would do the same for me.

So when I'm standing in a line this morning, and I notice the woman two people ahead of me has a hole in her pants, I feel obligated to tell her. This is not just a little hole where a seam is splitting. This is a hole that is about the size of a golf ball and frayed around the edges, and is right in the middle of a cheek. She is either wearing a thong or going commando - either way, I can see her butt. And her butt would do well (very well) to have some Jolen smeared onto it for a while. Her butt would also do well to get on a Stairmaster.

The hem of her shirt is barely covering the top of it. Without losing my place in line, I try to scooch up next to her to discretely tell her about the hole. "Excuse me, but you have a really big hole on the back of your jeans." She looked completely nonplussed: "Oh yes, thank you, I know."

Oh yes, thank you, I know? I know?

Really?

So in summary, she got up this morning and put on a pair of skin-tight, faded, frayed jeans with a big hole in the butt, knowing that the world can see her fat, hairy ass. And doesn't care.

And this is somebody's mother. Not only that, she is a Team Mother, as the line we are in is to turn in our AYSO volunteer forms. The team who has her for a Team Mom will probably be called something like The Soccer Slobs or Terrible Trash, and will probably get Twinkies and Pepsi at half-time instead of orange slices and Gatorade.

That's just wrong on so many levels.

And also? On my way home from the AYSO thing I passed by a guy with a full beard, all tatted out, wearing a ratty T-shirt, black knee-high socks, combat boots... and a kilt. And was pushing a baby in a stroller.

But at least his ass was covered.

I'm not checking anyone's pockets but my own.

I want to renegotiate my laundry contract.
Now.

Doing laundry for boys is tough work. It smells bad and there are often unmentionable stains and things that need stain remover. (Lots and lots of stain remover.)

Doing laundry for boys is usually unappreciated. It requires follow-up to ensure that the folded clothes laid out on the beds of the owners are actually put away and not dumped, still folded, back into the clothes hamper to avoid putting them in the proper drawers. (Or thrown away.)

Even after checking pockets (something I think the owner of the clothing should be responsible for doing) there are certain things that the mothers of boys expect to find in their washing machines at the end of a spin cycle.... Those things would include:

• Hotwheels
• rubber bands for braces
• gum (used and new)
• trading cards
• wrappers from candy they aren't supposed to be eating while in braces
• iPods
• notes they were supposed to give to their teacher 3 days earlier
• notes their teacher sent home last week
• pens
• spare AA batteries for their Gameboys (I usually don't find these until they are clanking around in the dryer.)

However, I absolutely, positively, without a doubt draw the line at real Lizards.

Yep.  In my washing machine.

 

This? ...Is not OK.  (It is also what lizards look like after 50 minutes in a Whirlpool Duet's "Normal/Casual" cycle.)
And yes. I did pick it up with my bare hands before I realized what it was. ew.

Now where did I leave my Xanax....?

Everyone is pretty at 2:00 am. Duh.

Really? Was it really necessary to do a scientific study in order to determine that there actually is a "beer-goggle effect"?

Of course you think members of the opposite sex look better after a few drinks.
It's called Horny.
Of course you think you look better after a few drinks.
It's called Blurred Vision.
Of course you think that you should sing karaoke or it would be a good idea to dance on a table.
It's called Lack Of Inhibition.
Of course you think old friends want to hear from you in the middle of the night, or the friends you're with want you to hang on them and give them sloppy hugs, repeating: "I loveyu, yur my bes fren..."
It's called Bad Judgment.

While this study was unecessary, cuz, well, duh, I actually would be interested to hear about scientific answers to the following questions:

• Do people who choose Coors Light (even when there are real beers to choose from) have lower IQs than the people who choose the real beer?
• Are bartenders who can't make a proper Lemondrop Martini just lazy, or are they suffering from a type of Post-Traumatic Kool-Aid Syndrome?
• Do people think Two-Buck Chuck tastes better if served in a lovely decanter as opposed to the original bottle?
• Do the loudest and most obnoxious men in bars really have the smallest penises?
• Are Mommies that drink wine every night more relaxed than Mommies who don't?

See, there are lots of questions out there that remain unanswered. Maybe I'll take up grant writing and seriously look into that last question....

Oh, the things I hear... (part 1)

"Don't take my crococile off of the toilet." - Grant

"There's an arrow in my butt." - Grant

"The helicopter can't go up, but the hot dog can!" - Grant

"The object of the game is to kill me" - Mitchell (immediately followed by...)

"Well then quit yelling at me for killing you!" - Conner

While eyeballing a huge, whole cake: "Mom, will you please move that cake closer to me?" - Grant

"I will put this banana peel on the floor so I can slip on the banana peel!" - Grant

"I'm thirsty! May I have milk, please?" - Grant

"Have some water" - Mom

"But I'm thirsty for something white." - Grant

"Grant, go pee-pee please." - Mom

"But my penis is not hot." - Grant

Now wait a minute. My water just broke.... How can he already be 16?

Devin is 16 today. What. The. Hell?

First of all, for those of you who are worried, let me say: No. He will not be behind the wheel and on the roads any time soon.

We had our family celebration last night. He got the dinner of his choice: Sloppy Joes (pardon me a moment while I try to control this gag reflex) and Chocolate Wipe-Out Cake from Hof's Hut.

Conner had a lot of fun giving Devin his gifts. He talked up his "gift" and how great it was going to be, and how much Devin was going to love it, etc. Then gave him an just an OK video game. Devin put on a nice face and told him thank you, that's really cool, Conner ...

Conner had previously given me my line in this farce: "Devin, you really smell. Please go put on some deoderant." When Dev went to the bathroom to get the deoderant (protesting all the way that he does NOT smell!) he found his second gift in there, along with a note directing him to the next gift. He got 5 video games in all, with Conner saving the best one for last and hiding it in the depths of Devin's nasty laundry basket. (Which, by the way, is still overflowing with dirty clothes...)

Some of my favorite Devin moments (although not necessarily at the time)

• Learning to talk + fascination with firetrucks = FUCK!! shouted at the top of his 3 year old lungs whenever he heard a siren.
• At age 4 after our waitress introduced herself to our table, Dev didn't miss a beat: "I'm Devin, this is Annie, and Vivienne's name is Mommy."
• Around the same age, telling everyone he met that he can make "the biggest poop you ever saw!" after overhearing Mike comment on a toilet-clogging fiasco.
• Around age 3, the only time he ever saw actual cash used in a transaction was at the Taco Bell drive-thru. Everything else was a check or plastic, so he thought that cash was only good for buying tacos. He loved tacos. This prompted him to go up to strangers and say, "Excuse me sir, but do you have any money?" - basically, my child was begging for tacos.
• When he was 3 or 4 his car seat had been brought into the house for some reason. He flipped it over and shoved one of his fingers through a hole in the plastic under the seat. I tried everything and couldn't get his finger out. I had to call the fire department to come and get him out. The jaws of life in my living room. (OK fine, it was a hacksaw and butter, but at least by then he had stopped yelling his special word for firetruck).
• At age 5 we had dinner at my friend Jen's house. As we were leaving, I prompted Devin: what do you say, Dev? "Uh. Thank you for your HOSTILITY." Jen still tells that story.
• Upon encountering a very large woman in a store, Devin loudly proclaimed "Mom, that lady is really fat!" I took him aside and said, "You shouldn't say things like that. She knows she's overweight and what you said will only hurt her feelings. Try to be a little quieter about it too, OK?" "OK!" The next time we saw a large lady, I prayed Devin remembered what I had told him. He did. He tried to take the less obvious route, but still at maximum volume: "So. Mom.... (pause for dramatic effect - look directly at Big Lady, then back to Mom)... Do you exercise?"

There are so many of these little stories - I will have to have a Devin Stories Part 2. Happy Birthday Dev! You're a great son and a wonderful big brother. We love you tons!

BTW? This is the reason the boys' room always smells like feet.

Too much American Idol.

I just took the boys to get haircuts. When Grant is in the chair, I try to stand near him so he doesn't get wiggy or uncooperative. He kept looking in the mirror asking about "the microphone."

Behind ya! In the mirror. Look! A microphone!

We did not get it at all. He was getting really frustrated with both me and the lady cutting his hair. We finally realized he was talking about the little dustpan on a stick that they sweep the hair cuttings into.

Of course you're right, Grant! We were blind not to see that!

Narcolepsy?

I wish I could just fall asleep in any 'ole place, in any 'ole position, no matter what is happening around me...

Beelzeboobs

This Victoria's Secret model:

a) Has been on that cayenne pepper & water diet and is now so hungry that the photographer caught her mid-faint.

b) Is possessed, having sold her soul to the devil in order to be that thin.

c) Is going for that come hither look and failing miserably.

d) Is only 16 and is rolling her eyes while her mother gives her a lecture about her piercings.

e) all of the above.

The answer is b. No one is that thin without some assistance from the underworld. The god of evil, uncomfortable underwear, perhaps?

The latest in lounge-wear.

Click on photo for fine print.

You little punks. I've forgotten more music than you'll ever hear.

You know what's funny? To hear someone humming "Smoke On The Water" and realize that it is your 4 year old.

I am a pretty musical person. Not in the capacity that I can play instruments or sing (there are many who can vouch for me on this!) but in that I like a wide variety of music and have a ridiculous ability to remember most of it.

I am not the kind of mom who buys KidzBop or Disney CDs to play in the car for her children. Having come from the Driver Controls the Stereo Tribe, I grew up with Dad's country music (and I'm talking Waylon & Willie, Conway Twitty, etc. - none of this cross over Martina McBride-y stuff) or with Mom's classical. (Rock me Amadeus? Not so much.)

So now that I drive the car, KROQ is my station of choice (has been since 1981) and I don't care what my kids want. This music is for their own good. I thought I was schooling them well. I tried introducing them to punk and classic 70s rock. To goth and rock-a-billy and classic 80s (and by that, I mean early 80s, Dave, not this Taylor Dayne crap-ola! Just because it played in the 80s does not qualify it as 80s music!) Basically, I wanted them to have a well-rounded appreciation for all types of music. (Except for Jazz and the current R&B hip hop stuff. I can't help them there. yuk.)

Anyway, I thought that they've been paying attention. (Silly me.) I thought they've been absorbing this musical education that's been playing in our cars and our home for years and years. (Silly me.) You know who is getting the credit for this musical education? Rock Band and Guitar Hero.

I'm trying to just be happy that they're finally paying attention to this music, but I must admit that it bugs me that these dumb games are getting the credit for what I've been trying to teach them for years.

"Mom! Have you every heard of the Stray Cats?
Of Cream? Of KISS? Pearl Jam? The Dead Kennedys? Guns N Roses? Pat Benatar? Aerosmith? Muse? Nirvana? Have you ever heard of the Rolling Stones?!"

Oh Pah-leeze. How can I feel old and current and superior and obsolete all at once? (I remember hearing about parents who were dismayed to learn that their kids didn't realize that Paul McCartney had been in another band prior to Wings.) I guess that it doesn't matter who teaches them the lesson, as long as they learn it. It is with a sense of humor that I grant them permission to "further their education" as they now want access to my iTunes library and would like to paw through my CD collection.

I hope they pay attention. There may be a pop quiz later.

Hi. My name is Vivienne and I play bunco.

OK, I play bunco. It's cliche. It's suburban housewife-y. It's fun.

The girls get together, we drink wine, we talk, we laugh, (sometimes we even remember to play bunco). All for a buy in of $10. (Personally, I like it when it's my turn to host bunco because it forces me to clean the house really well and gives me an excuse to buy fresh flowers.)

Rich has never been to, nor seen a bunco game played. He calls it Drunko. I read a blog today that was about bunco from the man's perspective. It's hilarious and it reminds me of what I just know Rich is thinking whenever I mention bunco, especially when I tell him that there is such a thing as Couple's Bunco, and "wouldn't it be fun if..."

Crazy Johnny's Law School

Rich just won a case that has been making him nuts because the other lawyer truly is a slime ball. Rich said of him, "He's either very stupid or he's crazy like a retarded fox."

Struck me as so funny I just had to share.

Don't you forget about me... or my marketing strategy will fail.

This is wrong, wrong, wrong.

Today's kids have no idea what this is referring to, unless their parents (ahem) saw The Breakfast Club when they were in high school. JC Penney has got to be aiming this ad at parents, not at kids. Because if they haven't seen the movie, I imagine the kids find this commercial incredibly confusing and disjointed.

John Hughes is spinning in his grave. He's not dead? Huh. We're all so old now, I thought surely he must be.

Is Molly Ringwald still alive?

Death to the skinny girl!! The Lane Bryant Story.

First of all, the name of the store is Lane Bryant. It's not Big Girl Pants. It's not She Blots Out the Sun or She's Just Big Boned. It's not even Woman's World (where in a stretch, World could imply a sense of, well... roundness).
It's Lane Bryant - which implies nothing.

In 1991 there were a couple of things going on: the Soviet Union dissolved after Gorbachev resigned; the South African Parliament repealed the apartheid laws; the Anita Hill/Clarence Thomas confirmation brouhaha was going on...    Also? I was a size 5. In juniors.

There was also a fashion trend that I laugh about today, but very much participated in back in '91. The over-sized, tunic-like painted T-shirt that was worn over leggings or (ack!) stirrup pants. (Oh, the shame.)

And I was a mere 23 years old and cuh-lu-less when it came to paying attention to what's going on around me.

So during this dark time in fashion history, I am shopping in a mall. (Cuz', like, where else would one get stirrup pants...? I'm so sure!) Mostly window shopping, just killing a little time. As I pass a window display, a lovely over-sized painted T-shirt beckons me to come on inside. Lane Bryant. Hmm. Never heard of this shop.

While looking for the T-shirt rack, I notice there is something a bit off about the promotional posters and displays they have throughout the store. Beautiful (and well proportioned) models, but it's weird - they're sitting on really small park benches, or standing near a teeny tiny birdbath, or holding the hand of a rather emaciated child... You'd think that the photographer would take size and scale into account when taking these pictures. Jeez! Why doesn't the stylist just go ahead and put them all in white and horizontal stripes while they're at it!

At any rate, as I look through the racks of clothing, I realize I don't understand the sizing in this store: 16, 18, 22.... where's the 3, 5, 7 etc rack? Perhaps they are European sizes? Maybe that's why I've never heard of this store!

A saleswoman approaches me.
Please imagine a battleship, but shaped like a woman.

source

Her boobs are enormous. (Dolly Parton and Anna Nicole Smith put together...? Saleslady is bigger.) It looks like she has two watermelons in her bra. Her boobs reach me a good 3 seconds before the rest of her does, and they defy gravity. Her whole body is encased in some sort of support garment that seems to be made of titanium, steel, and a little spandex.

As she opens her mouth and speaks, I realize I am being helped by a Sassy Southern Lady:

SSL: Can I help you, hon?
Me: Yes! I don't understand your sizing. Is it European?
SSL: Whatchu mean, "the sizin?"
Me: Your sizes. Are they European?
SSL: Whatchu mean, "European?"
Me: Are they in inches?
SSL: The sizes are the sizes.
Me: Yes, but are they in inches? I mean, I'm a size 5. What
would I be in these sizes?
SSL: Honey, these are the sizes.
Me: Yes, but what would I be in here? 18? 22? What?
SSL: They're the sizes! The sizes are the sizes!

Sassy Saleslady's voice is getting a bit louder with every frustrating attempt to, um, help me. Well, excuse me! I'm getting frustrated too, and I'm not raising my voice. I wish she'd simmer down, because the other customers are starting to stare.
The other customers. Hmm. They're a little on the larger side, too. And they look a little unfriendly... Yes. Decidedly unfriendly.

Right as it dawns on me, Sassy Saleslady loudly says:

"The sizes are the sizes! Honey, this be a big lady store. You don't belong in here! "

The other half dozen shoppers have now turned their full attention to this little drama. Oh crap. An audience. I feel really stupid, and I'm embarrassed, because I now recognize my stupid mistake.

So what do I do to diffuse the situation? If I've offended anyone with my cluelessness and stupidity, how do I make them feel less offended and me feel a little less stupid?

I've found that a little self-deprecating humor will do the trick every time:

A big lady store? Oh. Well, if I keep eating the way I've
been eating, I'll be in here soon any way! HA Ha ha heh...  oh.

oops.

They chased me out of there with torches and pitchforks.

I want a backhoe too!

This guy is so funny!

How did I get in the "dirty colon / little penis" demographic?

I always have to check the contents of my spam folder before I empty it. Yahoo does a sucky job of filtering my emails. Why do they send offers to cleanse my colon or enlarge my penis directly to my inbox, but send emails from people who are in my address book (and have their own Yahoo accounts) to my spam folder?

Is there a stupidity filter? How can I download it?

Structural Engineering 101

I spent this weekend at the cabin, alone with the 4 boys. Rich had too much work to do at the office, so he stayed home. I don't like going without him, but I had to take a bunch of our camping gear back up there. Also, I wanted to see if there was any damage from Tuesday's earthquake.

As we drove up the dirt road and the cabin came into view, I said: "Well, it looks like the cabin is still standing."

To which Grant replied: "The cabin's not standing! It don't have foots."

True. It don't.

Litter-Bugs, Lifeguards & Severed Heads.

Litter-Bugs

Let me preface this by telling you that a few weeks ago I yelled at a teenage girl who was driving like an idiot. I saw her in my rearview mirror, weaving in and out of traffic on Los Alamitos Blvd and coming up fast. She whipped around my car and ended up to my right at a stoplight. Blonde, holding her Diet Coke in one hand, texting someone with the other, probably steering with her knee. She had her window down.

I couldn't help myself.

I rolled down Devin's window. (He was in the front passenger seat.) I leaned past him and yelled over at the girl: "Hey! You really need to stop driving like an asshole! You're going to get your self or somebody else killed, driving the way you do. And hang up your damn phone! What're you? All of 17? Concentrate on the road, Miss Inexperience!" I'm sure she said something back, but the light had changed and I didn't quite catch it.

Devin? Oh, he was mortified - sitting in a car, next to a cute teenage girl, with his crazy-ass mother yelling past him at said cute teenage girl. You've never seen such a big kid try to make himself so small. "What's wrong with you, mom?! She isn't going to listen to you and you can't just yell at people like that!" Oh, but I can. If she isn't going to listen, it doesn't matter if I yell because it makes me feel better.

Yesterday: We're on our way to the beach. Devin is in the front passenger seat and we're at a stoplight. There is a big, raised, white truck next to us. The teenage driver's arm is out of his open window, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. I'm watching it, knowing the guy is going to flick it into the street. Yep. Flick. Ugh!!! Still gun shy from the last time mom was unhappy with another driver, Devin sees what's about to happen and implores me: "Oh mom, let it go!!! Don't do it!" and holds down the button for his window, preventing me from rolling it down.

At that point, I decide to mess with my son a little bit. I pretend that I'm going to catch up to the truck, etc. I run a steady stream of monologue: Look at that! He isn't wearing his seatbelt either! Punk teenager! I'm going to tell him not to litter! Half the state has burned down this year! What's that kid thinking throwing lit cigarettes out the window! Oh my gosh! He is already lighting up another one! Wow, smoke much?! Devin is getting more and more agitated.

(Note: in the back seat, Grant begins saying "blah, blah, blah..." Conner asks why he's saying that... "Because Mom is talkin' too much!")

As we pull into the beach parking lot, the truck is behind me. (This is getting good!) Looking fearfully behind us, Devin begs the driver "No! No! Drive away! Get out of here!" From the back seat, Conner says, "No, he's making a U-turn and going the other way. Whew!"

Oh, but the boys are just messing with me, for as I pay my parking fee to the state park guy, I look in the rearview and see a white truck behind me. I tell the attendant, "Hey, the guy in the white truck behind me threw cigarettes out of his truck the whole way down PCH. You may want to let him know that the state of California doesn't appreciate litter-bugs and that he shouldn't throw trash on your beach."

Feeling smug, I pull forward. (After all, I got to make my point to that guy and I got to mess with Devin!)

I look once again in my rearview mirror and see that it is, indeed, a white truck. However, it is not raised and does not have a teenage punk driving it. Oops! "Nevermind!" I yell and hurry down the access road, hoping to disappear before they catch my license plate. Devin's comment? "Ugh, mom, you're so lame!"

Lifeguards

So as we lug boogie boards, beach towels and snacks to the sand, I notice the waves look pretty good. Pretty big for Bolsa Chica, actually. I spot Raquel and her kids and my Aunt Mary Kay and her grandkids and plop down next to them. The kids are all off and running. All is fine, we just have to occasionally wrangle them as the tide is coming in at an angle and with each ride in to shore, they move a bit down the beach. The littler guys are fine, but we notice the 4 oldest boys (15 and 16 year olds) have gotten pretty far out in the surf. They don't have their boards with them and are trying to body surf.

We 3 moms are getting a bit nervous as we see how far out the guys have gotten (now on the other side of the swells coming in) and we begin waving for them to come back into shore. They don't come back. Hhmm. They either a) can't see us; b) are deliberately disobeying; or, c) they're in trouble. The lifeguard strips off his shirt, jumps from his tower and races out to the surf. I guess it is option c.

As he makes his way out to the boys, a truck with a flashing light pulls up and 2 more lifeguards run from their towers and into the surf. One of them is a girl.



So the guys get rescued, and they explain that they were "just fine" and don't see what all the fuss was about. Some of the surfers nearby had been saying, "Duuuudes... you're in a rip-tide. Better swim parallel to shore." That's probably what alerted the lifeguards, so thank you to the Jeff Spicolis of Bolsa Chica. A lecture from Mom, (complete with shark story reminders) (again, a story for another time...) and instructions that boogie boards are mandatory for the rest of the day.


(By the way, the kid who was proudly rescued by the Baywatch Babe? Chris Kent.)

Severed Heads

In the meantime, Grant has been having a ball playing at the water's edge with the two Conners.

He comes to me for a snack and a juice box, and when he finishes, he runs back down towards the water. About halfway down, he stops running and lets out a screech. We all thought he was hurt. Hurt bad! Like stepped on glass or stepped on a jelly-fish hurt. He comes running back to us, crying so hard there is almost no sound coming out. We look him over quickly, checking for blood, swelling, etc. "What's wrong, buddy!?" No words. Just crying, shaking and pointing.

Pointing.... oh, I see. A severed head at the beach would make me cry too.

Reluctantly, Grant allowed himself to be taken over to get a closer look at The Severed Head, (aka Cousin Sammy). It took him a few moments to calm down and marvel at the idea that anyone would willingly be buried up to their neck in sand.

Many people have a scary experience with water that makes them afraid of the beach. Only a special few have a traumatic experience with sand.