Derail into Crankville

I know that some of you have been around long enough to remember when the Pet Peeve of the Morning made a regular appearance. I haven't written about them in awhile, in part, because I don't want the crabbier parts of life to be my focus. There will probably always be things that annoy me and I can choose to focus on them & give those things that power over me or I can choose to let them go and focus on something more positive.


Besides, who wants to hang out with the cranky, snarky girl, anyway?


OK, fine. I know who wants to hang out with the cranky, snarky girl and it's just people who end up perpetuating the cranky snark until it's a self-perpetuating circle of crabtasticness that I really don't feel the need to be a part of anymore. Sure, a vent-fest is good every now & again, but not all the damn time!


However, inspired by this post, here's a totally random list of things that are pissing me off right now.


1. Wood isn't food - Did you know that the "cellulose" you see on the ingredients list of food products comes from wood? As in "how much wood could a woodchuck chuck" wood. Which, near as I can tell, humans weren't meant to or built to eat. In fact, they totally admit that it's completely  indigestible and non-nutritive. It's just cheap filler. Dude. I don't even feed my dogs cheap filler. Why the fuck would I feed it to my children? This article has me fighting the urge to read all the nutrition labels from everything I bought at the grocery store this past weekend. I don't even want to know, but I'm definitely adding this to the list of things I'm looking for on ingredient labels.


2. From the same people, The Great Cancer Hoax. Not that cancer's a hoax, but that the billions of dollars we as tax payers and charity donaters dump into the fight against cancer goes to anything that might actually help. The only treatments being approved for the fight against cancer are really expensive and highly toxic. As someone whose genetics make her a ticking time bomb waiting for a cancer diagnosis, it pisses me off that simple, effective treatments are being ignored because they don't provide a big enough profit base. And, no. You shouldn't be surprised. Because in America, everything is about the all mighty profit margin, and if you think that the government isn't assisting Big Business in this, you are definitely deluded.


3. I totally don't believe the sob story that Big Farmer can't figure out how to produce strawberries without chemicals. Maybe we in America will have to get used to the fact that not all produce is or should be available all year long, but I'm pretty sure we can still grow produce without chemicals. And it seriously pisses me off that regular and "organic" produce are grown the same way. Now please explain how "organic" is so much more expensive.


Items like 1 through 3 are why I harbor the not-so-secret desire to go completely off-grid and be self sufficient. Sure I have fantasies of a large plot of land and commune style living. Sue me. If you have a problem with that, you're not invited.


4. Sacramento drivers fucking suck. Dudes, I totally thought it was just me. That I was the only sane driver in Sacramento, the only one who saw what crazy, lame, pains in the ass other Sacramento drivers were, but no! Because every time I've checked this site, Sacramento's been number one in road frustration.

5. Finally, in a question posed by Jess, why the fuck do we, as a society, feel compelled to provide commentary on the lives, weight or eating styles of perfect strangers? Now, I would expect a friend, family member or loved one who knew me and my general habits and lifestyle to discuss with me a concern they may have about my health, because these are people I expect to a) Know the bigger picture and b) actually have my best interests at heart. But perfect strangers? Bug off, it's not your business.


*whew*


Now hopefully I can go on about my life and look for the joy instead of focusing on the dumb crap.

Rainy Days and Dogs

On Saturday, I took Gomi out & about. I had decided that it was high time that Miss Smelly had a bath. As much as it's been raining, recently, bathing her seemed fairly pointless.

So we hopped in the van, turned on Stella, our GPS, and...


Mom, why is the box talking?
You can totally see her little brain hamster spinning its wheel trying to figure that out.

After her bath, we went to not one but two Big Box Pet Stores (because the first had a great deal on a water dispenser but, apparently, does not carry Miss Priss' Expensive Ass Dog Food).


Gomi is totally the most well behaved dog most of the places we go. Which is cool (for me) but kind of sad (for everyone else). This includes the three German Shephards at the Dog Washery that went completely apeshit lunging at not just Gomi but whatever other dogs came by. Um. I might be a novice, but I'm pretty sure that's seriously bad doggy manners. There were a couple of dogs at the pet stores that barked at her, too. I love that she follows my lead & just walks on past.


This is the face a Gomi makes when you skritch in just the right spot.
I went out later for a quick grocery run and, when I got home, ended up getting trapped in the van by this:




It was the kind of hard rain that makes you check twice because you're sure that's hail.

Nope.

Just rain.

I am so glad that the forecast says we're in for a break from the rain. I'm sure most of California could stand a chance to dry out.

Advice on Raising Dogs

Years ago, when I was pregnant with MonkeySee, I was warned numerous times about the well meaning advice I'd get from people far and wide about pregnancy, childbirth and parenting.

Because, you know. Everyone knows how to be a mom better than you do, and they are not afraid to share their, uh, wisdom with you.

But nobody, not one damn person, warned me that dog raising would come with the same Holier-Than-Thou pitfalls.

I'm not even going to tell you that I'm any kind of expert in dog behavior or dog training. By necessity, I've done a fair amount of research and question asking. I've tested a few theories and figured out what works best for my dog. But I'm not going to tell anyone what they should be doing differently, partly because I'm no expert and partly because it's just not my place*.

It amazes me the number of people who feel it's acceptable to instruct me on what's wrong with my approach, my collar, my general Dog Raising Skillz.

I took Gomi into a pet store where a perfectly friendly sales clerk suggested that I bring Gomi to her class, because she'd be able to teach Gomi to walk with a regular collar, instead of her Martingale. Regardless that Gomi's Martingale has nothing to do with her obedience or lack thereof. Surely I, as a responsible dog owner, had not made the decision to use a Martingale collar because I like my dog and would prefer she not slip her collar and make a break for it.

Recently we had occasion to visit with the owner of a small dog, who felt the need to discuss how the theory regarding Alphas in wolf packs was based on flawed research and that dog training approaches based on this theory don't work and, furthermore, Cesar Millan is doing it wrong.

Like many people who disagree with the Alpha "theory", she was a proponent of positive reinforcement.

Which, you know. Totally works for some dogs.

Most notably dogs that look like this:

This photo was taken by TSM & Barbara Keller in April 2003.
But not so much dogs that look like this:

The Daily Puppy

LA Unleashed

Courtesy of WineDog
Because people who work with these dogs day in and day out will tell you that, regardless of what you think of certain research, these dogs require strong leaders in order to be well-behaved members of their family packs.

As for my dog, I'm the one that has to live with her. I'm the one that sees her and works with her and has to put up with her every day. Unless she's humping your leg, peeing on your rug or gnawing on your table, please don't tell me that what I'm doing is wrong.

Because, despite her best efforts to the contrary, my dog is pretty damn well behaved.

*Unless you ask for my advice. Or you live with me and are helping raise our dog.

A Hot Mess of Cranky

I should totally use the excuse and blame my irritations on PMS, but there are a few things that have really bugged the snot out of me today.

Back to School Night

Every year, the school expressly requests that parents leave their kids at home for Back to School night. Unlike Open House in the spring, Back to School Night is a time for parents to get more information about what's going on with the school, what will be happening in their child's class, who their child's teacher is, what will be expected of their child, etc. It's not interesting to kids, because, really, they hear it every damn day, so they don't really want to hear it again at night, right?

But every year, without fail, easily half the parents bring their kids, anyway. Some bring their actual grade-level kids, and some bring toddlers and babies. Of course, the parents are torn between paying attention and minding their children, so neither gets done effectively. Which tends to also mean that there are quite a few kids not behaving themselves (or keeping quiet) like they should be.

It's not that hard, right? It's one friggin' night a year - make other arrangements! I totally get that some parents don't have babysitters, or close family, or the ability to make arrangements for their kids' care for, what, two whole hours? Especially when I'm looking at both parents there with the kids in tow. Because one of you couldn't have stayed home and minded the ranch? That's how we do it!

Yes, I will totally admit that our little family has been extraordinarily fortunate in that there's never help or back up sitting far, should we need it. Between my family & SweetPea's family, plus Neighbor and assorted other friends and relatives, we've never NOT had someone who could watch the kids when we needed it. But I fail to comprehend that this many families, particularly when so many of them have two parents present, just can't find care for their kids for two hours for one damn night.

Party Invitations

MonkeyDo told me last night that one of her friends invited her to a party. No, a proper (and paper) invitation was not provided. I advised her that she could tell her friend that I would need something written, on paper, with a phone number I could call, before I would consider any invitations.

Today she presented me with a scrap of notebook paper that her friend had written the details on.

It's a birthday-slumber party. It's Saturday.

You know, I don't even think I need to say anything further about that.

San Francisco Field Trip

This is possibly just kind of petty, but I'm writing about it, anyway. Sue me.

When MonkeySee was in fourth grade, his class went on a field trip to San Francisco. It was. You know. THE San Francisco field trip. I remember going on it when I was a kid (vaguely), and I believe that was in fourth grade, too.

You know what?

MonkeyDo is in fifth grade this year, and, apparently, there is not to be any San Francisco field trip for her.

It's not that she's never been to The City, or done any of the cool things that are there. That's totally not the point. It's the first big rented-buses, get to school early, leave late, drive two hours AWAY FROM YOUR PARENTS, and "here, have some money for the gift shop" field trip. It's a big deal, dammit, and she totally missed out, and I totally didn't even realize it until recently.

It sucks, and I'm ticked.

Doctor's Appointments

Last week I got a call from a doctor who requested I come in for a procedure. He can't do it there at his office, so he was forwarding my information to another office, where he would do the procedure, so that the head nurse could call and schedule an appointment.

Tonight I received an automated phone call with a "reminder" for my appointment Monday.

Know what happened in the meantime?

Bupkiss, that's what.

I never even got an attempted phone call to schedule an appointment. Nothing. Because, clearly, I have nothing better to do than rearrange my life at a moment's notice.

Fortunately (for me and definitely not for her), he happened to give me the name of the head nurse who was supposed to call me to schedule the appointment.

Guess who's getting a phone call in the morning?

Ooh, good guess!

Now, I'm not bringing The Bitch out up front in the phone call (well, maybe I am... depends on how ticked I am when I dial). I mean, this procedure is not exactly pleasant and I'm not entirely sure pissing off the Head Nurse before the procedure is a good idea. But I will be expressing to her, in no uncertain terms, that it would be better for her if, next time, she discussed it with me before scheduling me for an appointment.

People who assume I have no life

I guess this plays into the thing with the nurse and the invitation. The last month or so has just been filled with last minute scrambles as we found out about events and appointments and things at the last minute. It is so frustrating, and I cannot even count the number of times I've grumbled "What? Am I NOT supposed to have a day job?"

As we gear up for another school year, I understand that things are going to be crazy and hectic and largely seat-of-the-pants, but it doesn't help when people like teachers, school administrations, doctor's office, etc. don't take into account that none of us are sitting around, twiddling our thumbs hoping that they've got something for us to do.

Also? I am not nice when I'm pissed off, and not much pisses me off more quickly than being disrespectful. And not being mindful that I have other obligations smacks too loudly of disrespecting myself and those obligations.

Something I Love

Packages from the HagRag!

Yeah, I know, I totally BUY them and all. But I just love getting them! She always packs them like they're presents, there's always an extra goodie or two, and they're just so gorgeous and soft and shiny and brand new.

I know there's a lot of you who may never even consider using cloth pads, but she also sells reusable cloth tissues (like handkerchiefs, only smaller, softer, and more fun), as well as "roundies", which are awesome for everything from makeup removal to mopping up small spills or even using to wipe fingers on at mealtimes. Plus, she's just totally adorable, and has a totally adorable, chubby-cheeked baby girl named Zuly. Zuly fergoshsakes, how awesome is that!

If you haven't been around long enough to have read my dissertation on cloth pads, you can check the posts out here and here.

I've also ordered (from a vendor on etsy) a custom double-sided "wet bag" for when MonkeyDo starts. That way, she'll have one side to keep her "clean" pads in and one side for her "wet" pads, and her wet ones won't leak or smell because of the waterproof lining. Should be cute as beans, too, but I'll post more about it once it arrives.

Goodnight, Moon

And now I'm going to bed. Not because I think sleep will help me be less crabby, but because I really am enamored of The Sleeping, and I totally want to make it my boyfriend.

Goodnight!

An Open Letter to a Local Tattoo Artist

Dear Local Tattoo Artist (who shall remain nameless),

You have a website, which is awesome. Nobody in the field should be without one. Go you!

Most of the pertinent information pertaining to your shop and yourself is available on the myspace.com page for the shop and the one for yourself.

Um. Kay.

You have an email address on your website as contact information. Which is super awesome. I am so much better at the email, sometimes.

Unfortunately, there is only one email for the entire shop. Not specific email addresses for each artist.

Because I am not interested in contacting one of the random people that work in your shop, I feel it would be a little awkward to begin the message all "I'm sure you're cool and all, but I really only want to talk to Person A." I totally think that would be rude.

The only contact information I have that links directly to you, the artist with which I would like to work, is your myspace page.

So I send you a message.

Which you read.

But don't reply to.

That's not even the end of the story, esteemed tattoo artist! Because even with my practically worthless memory I remember that this is the second time we've done this song and dance.

I send you a message all about the hi! I'd love to give you some money for doing that thing you love to do and you're all "who is this crazy person and why does she think I want to talk to her?"

So I did what any relatively sane person would do. I researched the other shops and artists in our area.

Do you have any idea how many that is?

Like, a lot.

And you know what? I think I found a shop and an artist that I like a lot better.

See what happened there?

Just a little snippet of rude and you've lost my business.

Sure, I only need a little something something right now. But do you realize that I have an aim of at least 60% coverage? Do you realize that my wife and I know a lot of people who are into body modifications and consider us experts in the field and would totally take our word for it if we directed them to a specific shop or artist?

Are you starting to do the math in your head?

Good.

Next time, maybe you should try hitting "reply" when you get an inquiry regarding your work.

Just a suggestion.

How To Save Eighty Million Lives

So we came home this afternoon and our next door neighbor (not Neighbor) came over to let SweetPea know that her cat had kittens in our shed.

Again.

Which is pretty damn funny, considering how, after her cat's second batch of kittens last year, she said that she had her scheduled for a spay but got pregnant first.

Y'all may not know this, but we took in half of her first batch of kittens last year. We took the dark ones, a friend of hers took the orange ones.

Not one of those kittens made it through the summer. Not one.

She had another batch in late summer, early fall. One of which Tatiana got in the yard.

Let me tell you, it's something else to look out into the yard and see your dog tossing about the body of an adolescent cat.

Last year, we dropped what we were doing to dig out that shed no less than three times to get at those kittens. This year, not so much. She's just going to have to wait until mom brings them kittens out.

Last year I wanted to kidnap that cat and get her ass spayed.

This year I think I'm going to have to contact the county and see if there's anything that can be done (uh... legally).

Because, no, it's not cool at all to let two unfixed cats (male and female) run loose in the neighborhood.

Today is the Day of Reckoning

Pet Peeve of the Morning:

High beams and fog lamps.

In normal urban driving conditions, you should need neither. In fact, if you feel like you need them to see to drive by, perhaps you should not be driving at all.

I do not understand the obsession with them, and they tick me off. They hurt my eyes, and while you may not consider that your problem - I do.

If I ever snap and go crazy you'll know about it. You'll start seeing news reports of a crazed woman with a bat busting the lights out of cars.

Where the hell is my silver bullet?:

I went online the other day and ordered each of the dogs one of these. Along with my order receipt, I received a link to a document that gave instructions on how to use the harness to train my dogs not to pull.

Um.

Qué?

In theory, couldn't I just use a regular collar + your instructions to train my dog not to pull on walkies?

OK, I know this sounds bad, but what I had been led to expect was something along the lines of a silver bullet fix. A harness that would make it so uncomfortable for my dog to pull that she would just stop. Maybe not instantly become the best behaved walkies dog ever, but stop pulling. What the hell do I need to buy your damn harness for if I still have to put effort into it by training my dog to walk on a leash properly?

$50 plus shipping ago, I was at a place where I was going to have to take the time & effort to train my dog to walk on a leash properly.

$50 plus shipping later, I am at a place where I am going to have to take the time & effort to train my dog to walk on a leash properly.

Does anyone else see something wrong with this picture? (please raise your hand if your answer to this question involves the phrase "never, ever should be allowed to own a dog, ever, ever again")

Walkies:

No, I did not take the crap machine on walkies down to the school again last night. I was just too tired to deal. Also, I knew she'd had play time in the yard with SweetPea.

Instead:

Monkey Do and I sauntered on down to the local Chinesery and procured yummyness in the form of vegetarian Sweet & Sour "Pork", Almond "Chicken", and Egg Rolls. OK, we also got SweetPea some decidedly non-vegetarian General's Chicken.

I would have brought leftovers for lunch, but I still have half my lunch leftover from yesterday.

Tired:

I am so tired that I am not entirely sure how I'm managing to be awake right now.

Between allergies, being on the rag, still recovering from the damn flu, and SweetPea coughing all night from the flu, it feels like someone popped a cork in my heel and all my energy drained out onto the floor.

Apparently, the night before last, there was some business about me fighting SweetPea over her knee pillow.

Because of her back, SweetPea sleeps with a pillow between her knees.

Well, to hear her tell it, during the night I ended up with it between my knees. She tried to take it back and I smacked her. She tried again and I kicked her. So she went back to sleep. When she woke up later, I still had it, but now I was dangling it over the side of the bed, still clutching it, like "You are not getting this pillow back!"

Also:

The last couple of days I've had a thing about diet Coke. It seems that if diet Coke is not physically in my mouth, it feels like there is something wrong in the universe.

Right.

Starbucks' Tip Jar

So I'm surfing cnn.com while drinking my morning coffee (purely by happenstance, y'all, I actually don't get coffee every morning, I swear!), and I ran accross this article.

I don't know how it works in other states, but California state law says that supervisors and managers don't share employee tips. It's one of the easier ways of making sure that a dishonest supervisor isn't hustling the wait staff for tips. To me, it makes perfect sense. Yes, a good supervisor or manager is worth their weight in tips. They keep things flowing, keep the customers happy, fix problems, deal with the bad eggs and do countless other things that help the wait staff earn good tips. You pay a supervisor or manager to do that awesome job and do it well. They're not doing it for tips, they're doing it for the extra salary. OK, a lot of them are doing it because they're good at it and they enjoy it, but the money's good, too. Your management staff shouldn't need tips because they should be getting paid enough to not require tips.

Your wait staff does need tips, because wage laws are set so that you can pay your wait staff less if they receive tips. Those tips are part of their salary, essentially, and a lot of wait staff count on those tips to make ends meet. Maybe that's sucky, but that's how the law is set up.

So y'all need to take that money you're saving by paying your wait staff less, and give it to your management staff. Do not take the tips that are being given to your wait staff and pay your management staff with them. That's not cool.

Now I know I've talked before about my Starbucks and the reason that it's my Starbucks is because of the manager. Every time I've been there that she's been working, she's taking orders, making coffee, doing all the things the regular staff do and, frankly, she's earning being tipped. Because she's manager, however, she's doing all those extra things that managers do that regular staff don't have to do. Like listening to me bitch about the new blonde girl and, seriously, why is she still here? Because she's manager, her employer has the duty and responsibility to pay her a wage that is comensurate with her experience, training, and level of service to the company. It's their responsibility to make sure she is being rewarded financially for the work she does.

Valerie O'Neil, spokeswoman for Starbucks, said "This case was filed by a single former barista and, despite Starbucks request, the interests of the sift supervisors were not represented in litigation."

What this says to me is that Starbucks clearly  has no concept of California law or the reason behind it. Laura Ho, the attorney who represented the baristas, summed it up succinctly: "Starbucks illegally took a huge amount of money from the tip pool to pay shift supervisors, rather than paying them out of its own pocket. The court's verdict rightfully restores that money to the baristas."

If You Pay My Salary, Shouldn't You Already Know What It Is?

On March 4^th, the Sacramento Bee published, in conjunction with a series of articles detailing salaries paid to certain high-level civil service employees, the salary of every single person employed by the state of California.

Including me. ($39,900)

The database created by the Sacramento Bee was, in its original form, searchable only by the department or the name of the employee. Not by classification. Not by salary amount. Not by length of service. Not by office location. Not by office.

While the information is public record, the fact that the Sacramento Bee made the database searchable primarily by name brought the database out of the realm of public information and dropped it squarely in the realm of snooping.

Could you search to find out what others in your classification were earning? No.

Could you find out what your old boss was currently earning? Yup.

Could you search to find out how many state employees are earning less than the poverty level? Nope.

Could you find out what your ex is making? Absolutely.

Could you search to find out what other employees are making with similar length of service? No.

Could you find out what that jerk that works in that office that is totally inept earns? Oh, yes.

On top of this, there is the added issue of privacy and safety that the Sacramento Bee fails to consider. I have heard numerous stories of people who left violent relationships or were witnesses to violent crime who had managed to gain some degree of anonymity, even as civil service employees, only to see what many consider to be personal information exposed online. Simply plug in a last name and you have direct and immediate access to information that can put you in touch with a person (where they work), and information that will let you know if it might be worth it to seek civil action against someone. Or steal their identity.

The Sacramento Bee has since updated its database to include the ability to search by base salary and by job title. However, the instructions indicate that you still need to include a last name or a department when making your search. While I appreciate the Sacramento Bee’s efforts at making the database remotely less like a witch-hunt, the changes don’t do very much to open the database up for meaningful searches. If I want to search by base salary, I can only search within a department or agency, or for people with a certain last name.

The release of the information led to a flood of comments on the Sacramento Bee’s website, which prompted a response from the editor. The response included the following gems:

“The Bee did not set out to embarrass anyone or to invade anyone's privacy -- government pay is public record, not private information.” It’s good to know that the Sacramento Bee did not intent to embarrass me by releasing my salary to the public. It’s also good to know that the Sacramento Bee has no problem reminding me of my place as a civil servant. And that place is, apparently, to bend over and take it whenever the Sacramento Bee decides it’s time.

“The pay database does not include addresses, social security numbers, email addresses, telephone numbers or other personal information. We do not believe names and pay levels are adequate information for identity theft. Simple internet searches might show you that your address and phone number, for instance, are available online through other sources.” Personally, I love how the Sacramento Bee points out that it has left out key information that would be required to steal someone’s identity, and then goes on to point out ways in which a person could access that particular information. It’s good to know that the Sacramento Bee is looking out for my best interests.

Look, I understand that the state of California is facing a big ass budget crisis. I also understand that the easy and popular choice for dealing with the crisis is by pointing fingers at all of us lazy state workers. I can tell y’all right here and now that you are not going to find the answer to the deficit in my monthly pay warrant. It ain’t there.

I know you’d also just love to point fingers at all of those state employees who are earning big bucks. It’s easy to pick on civil servants, isn’t it? Everything’s just right out there. Consider, though, that these people are doing jobs that would earn them, in the private sector, two to three times what they’re making as civil servants. Even though they are making what you consider to be offensive salaries now. These are people doing jobs that earn that money. Maybe you don’t consider that a state employee is capable of earning money, but there it is.

The number one thing you need to remember about civil service employees, love them or hate them, is that not a damn one of them is in it for the money. Because that would be stupid.

Love them or hate them, I can tell you that state workers work damn hard for the money we receive. Work loads are going up, staffing levels are going down or staying the same, and even getting a cost of living salary increase is like pulling teeth. By the way, when we do get one, it's eaten almost entirely by increases in tax rates, benefit premiums, and increases in union dues.

I know the Sacramento Bee is looking for an easy way to increase readership and incite controversy and make it look like it's a Big, Bad Newspaper that's going to Solve the State Budget Crisis Single Handed! But maybe y'all should try some real reporting.

You might be surprised by what a pleasant change it is.

A Clarification

Someone mentioned something that made me aware that I needed to clarify the previous Pet Peeve.

It's not exactly that the parents want their kids to be their friends. It's that the parents are trying so hard for their kids to like them that they're afraid to do anything that might make the child not like them, no matter how temporary.

And, you know, I had the differentiation all in my head, but that was a few days ago, and, you know what? I'm really tired, and my nerves are about shot.

I will say that if I've pissed you off, you have a different opinion, or you agree, please post a comment and let me know. Everyone parents differently. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

With the Lights Out, It's Less Dangerous

Pet Peeve of the Morning:

Technically, this is the pet peeve of dinner last night. I tried to post about it from the restaurant via email using my cell phone (because, y'all, I am like that), but then I went to backspace over a word, held the stupid button down too long and lost the entire freaking thing.

Y'all. I am like that, too.

We went to Mel's for dinner after some discussion as to how I am still Mr. Pickle'd out and not even kind of interested in going there.

They sat us in a booth, which had an added bonus feature - the ass of one of the children in the adjoining booth planted firmly on my daughter's head (or the seat back. whatever).

Even after we sat down, the parents did not see anything wrong with allowing the rodent their daughter to sit on the shared seat back. We actually had to ask the server to ask them to have their daughter sit down.

The exact phrasing of this request was (and I quote paraphrase): Is it possible for us to get a booth where there's not an ass on our daughter's head?

Our lovely server (actually, the gal that seated us and got our drinks) brought it up to the manager, who advised the parents that it was inappropriate for their daughter to be seated there, and that we were not paying for the pleasure of having her ass next to our heads.

Yes way.

So they put the younger daughter on our side and the older daughter on the other side, which had no adjoining booth. Which was good, I guess, because she sat on the seat back throughout dinner. Meanwhile, the little rodent girl was standing on the seat and facing us through most of our dinner.

If it had been a different situation, SweetPea would have proceeded to spend the meal making faces at and entertaining the rodent wee one. Because that's how she is.

However, given that they had already set a precedent for being oblivious to the inappropriateness of their rodent's daughter's behavior, instead, we spent the meal repressing the urge to ask the parents just what the hell was wrong with them that they thought it was ok to allow their children to behave in this manner in a public eatery around perfect strangers.

After they were gone, I asked SweetPea what their problem was. She was facing their booth, so she had a view of what was happening at their table.

"Bohemian parenting."

"So they want to be their kids' buddies?"

"Yup."

Y'all.

That creature you squirted out from between your legs is

NOT

YOUR

FRIEND.

That is your child. You are responsible for housing it, feeding it, clothing it, teaching it and (this one is important, so pay attention) disciplining it.

You are responsible for instructing your child on how to behave in public, which does, I swear, include consideration for others. Children need discipline. They need limits, they need consequences, and they need to understand where they fit in with the larger picture. I'm not (just) saying this from the viewpoint of someone who doesn't want to put up with crap from other people's kids. Ask a child psychologist, this is what they will tell you.

Parenting in such a manner where you're trying to be their friend is doing them no favors.

You are not their friend.

You are their parent. Protector. Guardian. Teacher. Provider. Disciplinarian.

I'm sorry if you had them with the intention of having a built-in buddy, but that's not how it works. Your children do not become anything remotely resembling "friends" until they're grown.

If you're lucky.

And you don't screw up now.

Pet Peeve of the Night:

Really less of a pet peeve and more of a complete and total freak out. I'll begin with a little back info.

Our dog is a good dog. She's an outdoor dog (and, yes, I know that makes us horrible, and I'm working on it, but the clutterfuck that is our house is just not prepared for her giant ass), and she's not a barker. She will literally and seriously only bark if there's something wrong.

A few months ago, she woke me up at three-some-odd in the morning on a weekend. Barking. I got up, went to the bathroom window and called her, let her know it was ok, I hear her. That totally shuts her up. Every time. She's letting us know, now we know, so her job is done. Then I sat down on the potty and had a think. I was debating calling the cops and asking for a neighborhood buzz-through, because our dog just does not bark like that. After I was done having my think, I went to the front door, to see if I could peep anything untoward going on the neighborhood.

You mean like the five cop cars parked out front of my house?

Yeah.

Like that.

So I thought to myself "Huh. I guess they're on it," and went back to bed.

< /back story>

At three-some-odd this morning, I get drug out of a dead sleep by my barking dog. I am laying on my side and SuperFat is laying on top of me. I try to get up but he won't move. So I drop his ass and get up. I head to the bathroom window and look out into the yard. I make the kissy noise. I call her name. I call her name again and tell her to come here. Now, I'm parched as fuck, so I'm probably not being very loud with any of this. But she's still barking. And then I notice it.

She's hoarse.

My good dog that doesn't bark unless something is wrong has barked herself hoarse at three-some-odd in the morning.

Between that and the stories we've heard about theiving and attempted break-ins on the street behind us, I fly into full alert mode. I'm fumbling around in the dark trying to figure out where I left my clothes, where the hell my sandals are, where the fuck is my phone.

Then I realize that I've actually watched a horror movie in my life. Once or twice. I know that there is no way in hell I should be flying out into the pitch black backyard in the dead of night with nobody the wiser as to where I am.

So I get SweetPea up.

Now we're both up and dressed and we've each got a cell phone and a flashlight and we head into the yard. Tatiana charges at us like she's just won the Super Bowl and now she's going to Disneyland. We check things out and everything appears ok in our world, but dogs on the street behind us are going nuts, too.

Mind you, the main house with the issues backs up to our next door neighbor's house.

SweetPea locks me in the house with both sets of keys, the flashlight and the dog and takes off in the car to cruise the neighborhood. She cruises up the street behind us and notices that the house in question is pitch dark. Except for the garage, which is not only lit up, but the garage door is open about a foot.

She calls me up on the phone and tells me this and that she's seen some guy walking up the street.

It's now four-some-odd in the morning, and, probably, some guy shouldn't be walking up the street.

I tell her to call Emergency, and to call Emergency now.

When she gets off the phone, she comes home and we both go stand out front.

Picture if you will:

Two fat dykes standing in the front yard of a pitch dark house in the middle of the pitch dark night with a big ass Akita, a bat, and a pack of cloves. On the plus side, we're both clothed, so that's a bonus.

After a while, the cops came cruising through and declared the all-clear, and told us we'd be better off in the house.

Which is all well and good, except now we're both strung out on nerves.

SweetPea is finally asleep again, but - Hi! Here I am because, y'all, I may not be sleeping any day real soon.

Further... Clutterfuck or not, that dog is sleeping in the house from here on in. If SweetPea's real lucky, Tatiana will be sleeping on the floor, instead of in the bed.

The sky is finally getting brighter, and hopefully Neighbor will be up soon so that I can go down and have a(nother) smoke. Because I've been forbade going outside until it's full bright, and only if Neighbor goes with me.

Bahb Would Say I'm "Aggro" Today

Pet Peeve of the Morning:

People who don't get the concept of a four-way stop.

Look, dude. It's not 1-2-3-4. It's two-by-two. So if you & the guy directly across from you are both going forward, and you're both at the line at the same time, it's both of your turns. That means you both go at the same time. Really, it's ok.

Now, this didn't hold me up none, so I guess I don't care that much. Still, though, you were holding up a big line of people, who I'm quite sure did not appreciate having to wait an extra turn, just because you're a dipwad.

Honorary Pet Peeve of the Morning:

For GruppieGirl - OMG, are people crazy?

Look, if someone's turning in to a school, that means that not only do they have kids in the car, but, also, they do this every day, so they're probably fairly good at it, and don't want to spend any more time doing it than is absolutely necessary.

What's that mean to you?

Suck it up, have a breather, use the slight pause in forward motion to finish sending that text message you're working on and get the f* over yourself.

Thanks.

Apparently, I'm cranky today:

Yesterday morning I woke up all freaking kinds of sleepy, so I thought we'd hit the Starbucks on the way to Monkey See's school. Until, that is, I got in the truck and heard the radio and we were only three minutes earlier than normal. That nixed that idea in a good way, so I thought we'd stop today.

Which was an awesome idea. Until we got there.

The cashier taking orders was, clearly, brand squeaky new. I have empathy for this, really, I do. It took a good five minutes just to get the order placed.

Like I said, I have empathy for that in-training, don't know what the hell you're doing yet thing.

Here's my issue (oh, y'all knew there was going to be an issue, so just hush):

Not only was she clearly new and learning the ropes, there was the stink of inept around her. You know what I mean. The kind of person that somehow missed the "common sense" line during construction. The kind of person who may have never stepped into a Starbucks before deciding that, really, she needed a job. The kind of person that makes everything harder than it needs to be because they're overthinking things (even though they have no apparent common sense).

What is this person doing working the morning shift by herself? I understand that she needs to learn, but why was she on her own and why, why was she on during the busiest part of the day? Also, has nobody noticed how clearly inept she is? How does this not get sniffed out during the interview process?

Yeah, because I do think that whoever hired her has no business making hiring decisions.

Really.

And it's not like it's the Starbucks I prefer (of which I know I've spoken before), where I could probably walk up to the (butch lesbian) manager, look her in the eye and say "look, kitten, sparky has got to go."

Which, by the way, I totally intend to do the next time I go there if that new blond girl is still there and she's still having as hard a time as she's been.

My point is that I don't know who the manager is, so I can't walk up to someone and complain.

If this is still an issue the next time we go, however, I will probably not be taking my business back there. I have places to go and things to do and none of them, on a weekday, ever, ever involve spending more than 5 minutes at a Starbucks. Ever.

And I had it easy. There was only one person in line in front of me. There were about 8 people in line by the time she was done taking our order.

Check that, SweetPea... I "backed up drive through" in the lobby!

Did You Guess?:

For those of you who didn't catch that...

Yes, I have a preferred Starbucks because it's run by a butch lesbian.

I don't know how they're run where y'all are at, but around here, an older butch lesbian is not a standard issue Starbucks employee, much less a manager. Further, most of her employees are not what you'd call standard issue Starbucks employees, which I think rocks. Almost all of them are stellar, too, which means I can stand going there (I am such a customer service snob).

The reason that I don't go to my preferred Starbucks during the week is that it is so not on my way anywhere. Which is so poopy I can hardly stand it.

Good Thing I'm Not On a Diet:

I brought my standard lunch today, which is a can of vegetable soup (shut up, Codejnki), but I just didn't feel like eating it. It's possible that I've been "souped out". So, I think to myself, no big deal, I'll just get lunch from the snack shop. I figured poptarts and a bag of chips.

Too bad there weren't any in there, and the snack shop was pretty picked clean.

Of course, I still didn't want my soup, so that was out of the question.

My lunch? A can of Diet Coke and a cinnamon roll.

Yum.

I *heart* Wednesday

Pet Peeve of the Morning:

Look, Mr. Semi Truck Driver, I know you saw that light was turning yellow. I know you were cruising up on that turn lane thinking "hey, it's only yellow, it's not like it's red." You know what, though, Mr. Semi Truck Driver? I'm pretty sure that you damn well know you're are not sliding that big ass trailer through the intersection while the light is still yellow. In fact, I'm pretty damn sure you had a reasonable understanding of the fact that, probably, you were going to be holding someone up on their green light, possibly long enough for it to turn yellow.

While I'd totally like to give you the benefit of the doubt that stopping for the light would have been dangerous for you to do, I see this way too often to believe that's always the case. I know you're hoping you can make that light, Mr. Semi Truck Driver, but, seriously, slow it the fuck down so that you can stop if it turns yellow. I really don't need to be smeared across an intersection just because you wanted to spare the 3.5 minutes you'd have had to wait for the next green.

A Note About Bodytribe:

I came to Bodytribe by way of the Wine Dog, who is the one responsible for information related to "no ass, no glass" and then something about barely even a locker room. I've done a thorough job of perusing their website and reading the blog and I really have a lot of respect for what they're doing, and the information they're putting out there. I also love the attitude, which is sort of a combination of intense, laid back, taking it seriously without being serious, with a smidge of "arty" (bohemian?). I think it's something that would be awesome fun to be part of, and I think that's a good goal.

But here's where we hit a snag.

Weights intimidate the crap out of me (just when you thought I couldn't get more neurotic, right?). Yeah, ok, that's probably silly, but there it is.

Personally, it's never been something I was ever particularly interested in. I've also never had any real opportunity to really learn anything about what to do and how to do it. The only thing I really know is that it's really easy to do two things:

1. Hurt yourself
2. Spin your wheels by doing it wrong

Frankly, I'm not interested in doing either, thanks.

I do know that, in order to get where I want to be both weight-wise and health-wise, weights are going to have to become a part of the plan. I know. I'm not stupid, y'all. I also know that, when I get there, someone really patient and really knowledgeable is going to have to walk me through doing things correctly. Probably more than once. And I'm sure Codejnki can back me up on the "patient" part.

Right now, I think I'm going to work on getting some of the fat off, getting some time in on the skates, and getting used to being "active" again. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to figure out when it's time to stop putting it off. And I'm also pretty sure that there's someone or other who would be willing to get in my face about it when it is time.

When it is time? I'll tell you what... I can't wait to make that tire my bitch.

In Other News:

My work schedule has been officially changed. I'll be getting off an hour earlier, and will be home by 4:30. Monkey Do doesn't need to get picked up until 6:00, so I plan on spending that gap walking. At least for now. I also plan on walking to the school to pick her up, instead of getting my lazy ass back in the car and driving down there.

Ha.

Did you catch that?

I'd rather walk to school (about a mile and a half, round trip) than drive because I'm too lazy to get back in the car & drive down there.

Also, I guess I owe y'all a post about my tits. I'm kind of concerned, though, about whether or not you can handle it.

Yeah. I'm totally going to post it anyway, though.

Manic Monday, Random Tuesday?

Pet Peeve of the Morning:

People who sit at a four way stop and wait until you have pulled all the way up to the line and come to a full and complete stop before they go, even though there is no other reason for them to be waiting.

You know what I'm talking about. What the hell is up with that?

I had one this morning. She was stopped at the left hand stop and was turning left, away from me. I was pulling up the line, with my right-turn blinker on, obviously slowing down and, what's more, turning into my right turn as I pulled up to the stop. Even had we both gone at the exact same time, the direction of our individual courses was such that we would not even have come close to meeting.

Why, why, why do people like this feel the need to wait? Why can't they just take their damn turn and not make me wait for them?


Eat Less, Move More:

Yesterday was actually a pretty good day, on the eating front. Not only did I make it the entire day without cramming a pop tart into my mouth, I also only drank one can of Diet Coke. Of course, the rest of the day I was drinking iced tea, so my water consumption was still fairly low. But. You know. Whatever!

Dinner was kind of a bust, as per usual, what with the overeating and all. But it certainly wasn't as bad as it usually is could have been. So that's a bonus.

We did not make it down to check out the gym either of the last two weekends, and it's looking fairly bleak for this weekend, too. That's kind of ok, though, because the special they were running when I first checked them out is over, and I am in no way paying retail when a rate like that is available.

I did, however, purchase a fancy new pair of sneakers. They are so fancy that I got them at Payless on BoGo because I am a big old tightwad. If I ever actually take up running, I am so. screwed.

I may be adjusting my work schedule so that I'm getting out of here an hour earlier. This may lead to the possibility, if the other gym isn't forthcoming with a reasonable rate, of joining the Fitness 19 which is closer to my house than the 24 Hour Fitness. They don't open up near early enough for me to get there in the morning, but, if I'm leaving an hour earlier, there's every possibility that I can hit it on myway home and then call it a day.

Unlike Bodytribe Fitness, Fitness 19 has enough glass to render it an earthquake hazard, much of which is in the form of ginormous windows that look out onto the busy shopping center parking lot.

Which is just so awesome I can't stand it.

Also, unlike 24 Hour Fitness, but much like Bodytribe Fitness, there is neither a pool nor anything resembling a locker room. The locker is no big, since I'll be headed home for the day and it's not like I can't shower there.

The pool thing, though...

Well... Let's just hope that Fitness 19 has a month to month plan.

Google Keywords:

Searches for "totally tatiana" are still completely out of control. However, the big winner lately is the post about the inverted bob. Who knew? I have no idea what keywords people are using, because most come from a google image search. I think that's pretty funny, because there were no actual pictures in the post, only links to pictures. Lots of other people are getting good advise on business phone call etiquette (ha!).

Moving On:

That's about all I have for y'all this morning, but I should be posting more soon, with topics including my tits and probably some other drivel that nobody will care about because Hi! Tits!