And your regional cuisine sucks too!

Birmingham, the 2nd largest city in England, has issued an ordinance to ban the apostrophe from all of their street signage. Their claim is that the apostrophe is outdated and it confuses people. Confuses people? Really? Confuses people?! You have to be a special kind of stupid to not be able to find a cathedral because you aren't sure if it belongs to a saint or if there were just a lot of them hanging around when it was built.

One of the people behind this ban said that he does not want to need a high school level education in order to "find a restaurant." Are you serious? Then go hungry! If you can't leave your house without being attacked by punctuation marks, don't go out. If the presence of an apostrophe reduces you to a complete idiot (instead of just a partial idiot) then don't go out and for God's sake, don't breed.

If people with a high school education or better are the only ones who know how to read the difference between plural and possessive, then there is a lot to be desired in Great Britain's elementary curriculum. (See? Right there: the curriculum belongs to Great Britain. How difficult can that be?!)

Does any society benefit by dumbing things down for the lowest common denominator? That would be like intentionally rotting the teeth of the few Brits who are acquainted with a toothbrush, so that those who qualify for the Big Book of British Smiles won't be the only ones with a horrible dental situation. Or like taking out the entire Theatre District in London because some audience members didn't understand a show playing there.

I would also argue that it is far cheaper in the long run to educate people than it is to go around removing a little punctuation mark from every sign. Ridiculous.

If the leaders in Birmingham devoted as much time to dental care as they do to this assault on the Queen's English (That's their Queen, their history, in case you were unaware...) then at least the population would be a bit better looking. Stupid and attractive goes much further than stupid and ugly.

(Yes, I know this is a snarky diatribe, filled with cliches, stereotypes and generalizations. So what? At least it's not filled with cliche's, stereotype's and generalization's.)

We need some help in the shoe department. Please.

Mitchell & I went shopping yesterday. We were looking at some shoes and discussing which we liked the best. There was a pair of Vans with some cool details on the sides.

"I like these best" Mitch says, pointing to the shoes, "The ones with the Space Invaders on the sides."



Oh no, no, no.

"Mitch, those aren't Space Invaders... it's called houndstooth."


I guess I can see how he got a classic video game and a classic pattern mixed up... Houndstooth is one of my favorites, and I'll never be able to look at it the same way again.

You'll eat it...you'll eat it and like it!

My brother-in-law (the former cheerleader & current advocate for more Bring It On movies)
sent me this, taken from a Florida newspaper. This guy turns "mangia!" into an order. I thought it was hysterical! (Um, in an assault & battery kind of way...)

A Florida man got a side of assault with his calzone when he was
pistol-whipped by a pizzeria owner after complaining about his order.

Richard Finney and his roommate were having a cookout at their Palm Coast
home on Friday night but the roommate's 11-year-old daughter didn't like what
was on the menu, the News-Journal reported, So the pair ordered her a calzone
from Goomba's Pizzeria with no sauce and no feta cheese.

But when they discovered that the calzone had both, they went back to the pizzeria to complain, and that's when it got ugly.

According to a police report, security footage from the pizzeria shows Joseph Milano, the owner of the restaurant, striking Phinney with a gun. He then jumped over a counter and started to assault Phinney and the roommate.

Milano, 40, was charged with aggravated assault and battery with a deadly weapon and released on bail.

Phinney was taken to a local hospital after the incident with a bloodied
head. "I don't even want to go out to a fast food place now because
I don't know what to expect," Phinney told the Daytona Beach News-Journal.

Click to read the full article.

I don't pistol-whip my kids if they complain about dinner. However, I do make them eat it at gunpoint.

(kidding.)

I'd argue that congratulations are in order.

My hat is off to the students who comprise the Clark College Speech & Debate Team! They were just ranked 22nd in the nation over all and 6th among 2 year community colleges. 6th in the country!!! That's a very big deal... Think how many community colleges there must be in the country! (I just looked it up: approx 1,116.)

Why is this? Because of Dave K, the Director of Forensics. His coaching and guidance are the key to the team's success. And also? His ability to get his team to tournaments safely, even though he is the world's worst commuter van driver. (Ever.)

Getting involved with a Speech & Debate program is the most valuable thing I ever did, as far as my education goes. Those of you with kids in school should insist they take a public speaking course and get involved with debate if it is available to them. They will thank you later. Profusely.

Dear Uncle Jayson. Again.

Criticism is part of life. I expect it. I yap about whatever I want to on this blog and I figure most people a) don't read it; b) could care less; or, c) agree with me.

Sometimes it is the person doing the criticizing that is a surprise.... I am being criticized by my (big, strapping, weightlifting) brother-in-law because I said that the movie Bring It On has no plot. I will respond to what I sincerely hope are his tongue in cheek comments. (I thought about putting his comments in pink, but that's just uncalled for. ;-) Italics will work just fine.)

As the former captain of a male Yell Leading squad ('88 CVHS), and who at one point in his own life could indeed do round-off's, cartwheels and splits (from my own Karate days no less)...

You do know this is a public site, right? Other people will find out about this past of yours...

I am stunned you say there is no plot to Bring It On. "Blasphemy" I yell in my gold and black megaphone!

OK, maybe I was a bit harsh when I said there was NO plot. I'll rephrase. There IS a plot. It's just that it is so tired, transparent and formulaic that it is easy label it as having no plot. I stand corrected.

I'll have you know there are 4 movies in the franchise, with a 5th (Bring It On: Fight to the Finish) slated for a 2009 release!!

McDonald's is a franchise too. Just because there are a lot of them around doesn't make them innovative, exciting, thought-provoking or necessary. (And the fact that you are so generous with the use of exclamation points when it comes to writing about the 5th one... well, it has me a bit worried about you.)

The stories are chock full of high stakes drama fueled by teen angst as generally the under dogs have to overcome insurmountable odds to prove they are the best cheer team.

Remove the cheerleader aspect and you've just described the plot of every Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoon ever made.

It's the tale of the unsung hero's...the cheerleaders and yell leaders of our communities. We never get credit.

Does the tale belong to the unsung heroes, or is it about them? Decide, adjust your punctuation accordingly, then get back to me. (Say hi to my sis and give her a big hug!)

Salt, pepper and digital camera to taste...

I like to cook. So does my husband.
I appreciate great food. So does my husband.

The similarities often end there.

When I cook, I try to be as neat as possible. I clean as I go and I am almost OCD about preventing cross-contamination on my cutting boards, etc. He cleans as he goes too, but seems to think this salmonella thing is all in my head.

I am efficient and economical when it comes to the cooking process. My husband seems to use every pot, pan and utensil we have in the kitchen. (He made a casserole Thursday night and I cleaned blobs of cheese and sour cream off of the walls on Friday morning.)

Don't get me wrong. He's a great cook. (Seriously! The Lemon Meatballs he made that one time were an anomaly....) It's just that from concept to completion, we tend to have very different processes. Different styles.

If I see a recipe on TV, I know it's probably on the show's website and I go online and print it. (In some instances, you can even see a video clip of the cooking demonstration.) Such was the case this morning. Apparently there was an interesting cooking segment on the Today show.

If it were me? I would have gone to the website and printed the recipe directly...

If it were me? I would not have used the pause feature on TiVo and our camera to do this:


Now he knows he can grab the recipe online, thus giving him more time to cook.
I plan to stay out of the kitchen the night he makes this. I'll have a bite when it's all over, but I don't want to be around to watch it happen.

READY!?! OK! (um, no, I'm not ready.) Or: "How does everybody know about this but me?"

When I was growing up, I swam, took karate, and played soccer & softball. My mom put me in ballet and tap classes as a little, little kid, but I don't think I really enjoyed it (and those tu-tus are damned itchy.) I was a cheerleader in high school (well, I wore a cheerleading uniform and yelled encouraging things at football games), but I was not a gymnast and I am not flexible. (I could barely turn a cartwheel, let alone do the splits.)

My boys play soccer and baseball. (Did I mention I have a few boys around here?) They have fun, but they aren't in to it. We also have fairly strict guidelines: school comes first, one sport or activity at a time and no one is on a travel team.

My best friend's 7 year old daughter, Kaya, has a sport: cheerleading. I have all boys (did I say this before?) and I am completely ignorant of today's girl culture. There is a whole industry churning out little cheerleaders and selling them gym fees, tumbling lessons, coaching, uniforms, sparkly eyeshadow and hair bows.

They drive all over the place attending these competitions and they practice 6+ hours a week. I had no idea. I had heard of little girls cheering, of course, but I imagined it was like cute little girls at a recital who waved to their parents in the audience instead of dancing.

I went to watch Kaya compete yesterday, and it was amazing. There was an entire college sports center filled with little girls from about 4 to 14, and their stunts (and micro-mini skirts) defied gravity. These girls were flipping through the air, tossing and catching each other, and, some were gyrating and thrusting their little hips like there was no tomorrow. And that was just the 8 year olds.

It was Bring It On, but with no plot. (Not that there really was a plot in the movie, either....) The seats were filled with people(who paid $15 a head to get in) cheering on the cheerleaders. Who knew? (OK, apparently everyone but me, but whatever.)

I don't know that my husband would be able to take it if we had girls. Our hypothetical daughter would probably be the only one out there in sweatpants and a turtleneck.

God gives you what you can handle.

Shut up shut up shut up!

I know that we've all gotten used to being around people talking on their cell phones. Maybe we are even guilty of carrying on a conversation while at the grocery store or while pumping gas (although I hear that can make your car blow up...)

Still, it was everything I could do to not get up and bitch slap this woman who walked into a so-quiet-you-could-hear-a-pin-drop doctor's waiting room, cell phone clamped to the side of her head. She was yapping at top volume to a friend who is obviously going through a divorce: "Oh absolutely! It's a community property state! You totally get half! Well you need to get access to his accounts! Oh, there's no way he's going to hide behind the corporate veil! What's the mortgage payment?! Well he needs to pay for that!!!" I could not hear all of the eye-rolling over her yammering snark disguised as support, but I could sure see it. She was so loud that she even drowned out the heavy sighs and the fake clearing of the throats.

How can anyone be so obtuse as to not realize the whole waiting room is staring at them and irritated? How can anyone be so self-centered as to not even wonder if they are disturbing the people around them with their loud and very personal conversation?

The only reason I did not smack her (or at the very least give her a "Hey, do you mind taking your call outside?") is because she was pregnant. Not because I was particularly worried about her delicate condition, but I know enough not to mess with a pregnant woman. They're crazy.

There is no cure for what they have... it's chronic.

I don't recall how it came up, but I was in the car with Devin & Conner and I said something about "that Playboy chick" on a nearby car.

This is the conversation that ensued:

Devin: "Wow Mom, that's so weird!"

Me: "What's weird?"

Devin: "To hear you say 'chick' - it's just weird to hear a kids' word come out of a 42 year old's mouth."

Me: "First of all, I am 41, not 42. Second, do you really think that your generation is the first one to use the word 'chick' to refer to girls?! Really?"

Conner: "Well Mom, how are we supposed to keep track of how old you are?"

Devin: "Ya, you're always going to seem to be about 50 to me."

Conner: "Ya, you look around 50...."

I was en route to take them both for a doctor's check up. Unfortunately the doctor was not able to fix what is wrong with these little twerps. (And so what if one of the twerps out weighs me by 15 pounds and is 2 inches taller than me...?)

Is it cold in the news room? It is in Wisconsin.

Southern California rarely has anything interesting going on, weather-wise. Rich and I watch the morning news, not so much to see the weather report, but to see what our NBC weather girl, Elita Loresca, is wearing to cover up her enormous boobs. We crack up seeing what her librarian-inspired ensemble du jour is.
No. Cleavage. Ever.

The opposite of boring, mild weather: My friend Cindy and her family are stationed in Wisconsin. It was -27 degrees. She went outside with wet hair to see how long it would take to freeze solid. Two minutes. Crazy. But at least it's interesting. There are only so many ways to say that it'll be sunny and in the 70s for the next 3 months...

Three big brothers wield big influence

I don't know any other 5 year olds who can sing along with the Rolling Stones and recognize Paramore when they are on the radio.

I don't know any other 5 year olds who say things like, "Dude! That's tight!"

I don't know any other 5 year olds who would rather sit through almost 3 hours of Transformers than watch SpongeBob. (Although he's a favorite as well.)

Big brothers need to constantly watch what they say and what they do, because SpongeGrant absorbs it all.

Friends of the family have a little guy, Jack, who just turned 5. He and Grant have been thick as thieves whenever they get together at a family function, so Jack wanted Grant to attend his party. It was at one of those Pump It Up places, where it's all inflatable slides, jumpers, etc.

Grant had a great time, but I was a little embarrassed when my little bruiser yelled "You scream like a Girl!" at a little boy going down a slide. How do you unring that bell?

oy.

The proverbial accident waiting to happen. Literally.

Grant and I were running errands about 2 miles away from Leisure World, a seniors community.
A car was tentatively making its way towards us on Seal Beach Blvd, going in the wrong direction.
The driver seemed to realize the mistake and try to turn the car around and go the right direction.
Traffic was snarled. People were frustrated. Those closest to the wayward vehicle were nervous.

I couldn't see the driver.

Do you think it was a senior citizen who should not be allowed behind the wheel any more?

Me too. Of course, maybe they were just texting.

Hitler needs a haircut. And the First Amendment.

New Jersey state officials have taken the kids named after Nazis out of their parents' care.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

State authorities don't say why the kids were removed from the house.

I think these parents are scum and total idiots. I wouldn't let them take care of my dogs and the thought that they're raising children with this pro-Nazi mentality makes me ill. I absolutely loathe the fact that these people saddled their kids with offensive names, but I certainly hope that's not why they were removed. As Papa Idiot said in the above video, this is America and you can name your kids what you want. In other words, in this country you are free to be an asshole. Something both sad and wonderful at the same time.

Perhaps they were removed because of the boy's terrible haircut (or lack thereof?) That I would be OK with.

Willard Scott isn't half as crazy as the people who keep him on the air.

Rich and I have a Friday night guilty pleasure: The Soup with Joel McHale on the E channel. If you've never watched it (you should!) it is 30 minutes of clips from reality shows, talk shows, soap operas, you name it. It is a show that basically makes fun of pop culture and all of the crap on TV.

Willard Scott from the Today show is frequently featured (skewered) on the Soup.

I predict that Friday night's Soup will have a clip of Willard's appearance on the Today show this morning. Among some of the other wacky things he said, this was my favorite: "It's Girl Scout Cookie time! I love the Girl Scouts. I'd like to make a cake out of them!"

If that's not Soup-worthy, I don't know what is!

What a difference 25% makes.

I love Christmas.
I love the entire time period from the day after Thanksgiving to New Year's Day. We have special holiday movies that only come out once a year (It's a Wonderful Life vies for viewing time right alongside Scrooged.) We have wassail almost constantly simmering. We have elves that leave early yuletide treats in stockings (if you've been good, that is) and Christmas music is on permanent rotation all month. We do all we can to make the entire month of December a special time.

We have the kids' tree, which is adorned with all things bright, plastic and Spongebob, and we have the family tree (aka Mom's tree). The family tree is color coordinated each year. I have so many Christmas decorations that if I don't edit, it's like Christmas threw up in the house. (Hence choosing a color palate and sticking to it.) This year was red. Next year is gold, brown and black. (Yes, little pops of black.)

As much as I love-love-love the season, I love the post-Christmas decor sales. Not only is it the thrill of the hunt, but it's the beginning of the 2009 Christmas season for me, as I scout out new deals for next year's color palate.

Target is a favorite. This is what I got for $100 at the 50% off price on 12/29:

It is also what I returned to the store on 12/30.

Once I returned the stuff I bought for 50% off, I repurchased it all (and then some), at 75% off. This is what I got for my original $100 and an additional $13 at 75% off.



I am a clearance sale goddess. I hit other stores too, but didn't take any pictures because that would be, um, weird.

Merry Christmas. Please pass the scissors.

Still undecorating the house.

Still picking up random bits of wrapping paper and Christmas toys in unlikely places. (Really? Who unwrapped a gift in a bathroom?)

Barely uploaded the Christmas photos.

Until a real post comes along, please enjoy Conner's smiling face as he finds the gift the Ribbon Fairy left for him.

The first parenting blunder of the year.

I spent New Year's Day "un-decorating" the house. Literally, the whole day. By 9:00 in the evening, I was exhausted and wanted a long hot shower. I had the TV on while packing up ornaments.
It did not occur to me to turn it off when I left the room. Jerry Maguire was on... what's bad about that?

You complete me.
You had me at hello.
The human head weighs 8 poundths (from cute little kid with glasses and a lisp)

So what could be bad?

Um, how about Kelly Preston, naked and bouncing up and down on Tom Cruise's lap while screaming "Never! Stop! Fucking! Me!" and nearly breaking the headboard of his bed.

Rich told me he walked in from the garage at the exact moment that scene was on. Grant was standing in front of the TV with a concerned look on his face. "Dad, what's this movie?!"

Twenty one hours into 2009 and I'm already out of the running for mother of the year.
Ef me.