dyanamaria.com

When I was in the 7th and 8th grade, I was picked on. A lot. Mostly by the boys on the flag football and basketball teams but the girls in their cliques would typically just stand by and watch with smirks on their faces when the boys chanted whatever stupid rhyme they had thought up for the day. Their silent stares were just as hurtful.

It was strange how some of the people who came to my birthday parties every year from first grade through fifth grade suddenly didn't know me when 6th grade started. They were in 6B, I was in 6A - our classes had been jumbled up and I was in a classroom with unfamiliar faces. 6th grade was fine, I made new friends. 7th grade was meh - we were jumbled up again. 8th grade was barf. I cried at home on an almost daily basis.

If not for the fact that I knew my family loved me (despite going through a hellish puberty and fighting with my parents regularly) and for the mish-mash of friends I had I could have become a seriously messed up individual at the hands of my peers.

My friends were a band of misfits - the girl that was 4'9 and tormented for it (the boys played keep-away with her stuff, dangling it above her head so she'd have to jump up to get her stuff back), the painfully shy girl, the uuber smart Asian girl, the hyper girl who know about gangstas, the Mexican girl with the big lips and booty that we'd all kill for now, but was the source of much taunting and then there was me - the 80 pound dork who wasn't allowed to shave her legs... who was dressed by her mother in clothes from the petite woman's section instead of the juniors section... and who was forced to try out for the cheer team and made it only to be the girl who sat alone at practice.

I somehow still liked myself, but I was slowly coming to hate everyone else.

Towards the end of that last year in Jr. High, I began to unravel - I think we all did a little. We began to pick on each other within our own group and said some of the same mean things that outsiders had said to one another. I felt picked on by the hyper girl and I didn't know how to deal with it. None of us could see at the time how much it must have hurt our friends to be picked on, because we were all so concerned with coping ourselves.

To be picked on by the football team was one thing, but to be teased by a friend pierced the faux suit of armor I had built up around me. Looking back, I doubt she even knew that she was doing it.

I went about things backwards and ended up indirectly "dumping" this girl maybe 2 months before graduation, although she was the one that stopped hanging out with us (after a blow out in the middle of the school yard where I said "you treat me like shit.") Everything was a whirlwind from that point on.

She started hanging out with a different group of girls - one of the girls had come up to me at lunch and said "Please take her back. She's so annoying." I didn't say anything. I could see on my ex-friend's face that she knew she didn't fit in with the new group she had latched onto, but I had painfully pushed her out of mine and at that time all I could think about was protecting myself emotionally.

Even then, I felt horrible for her but I was so consumed with my own suffering that I couldn't think of opening myself up to her again and she should never have any reason to want to talk to me. I tossed her out to the wild without thinking of how painful it must have been for her to be alone in a place where we all already knew that we didn't belong.

I'm somewhat ashamed of it now and I wish I could apologize, but I wouldn't know how to begin. I was 12 years old and I'm not sorry for trying to stick up for myself, but I'm sorry for how I did it. I would go back and do it all differently, but I can't ever take away what may have become a huge scar on that girl's life.

I once moved seats in a movie theater to get a better seat and ended up hurting a friend who thought I didn't want to sit next to her. It was accidental, but it wouldn't have taken much thought for me to explain my move to my friend and ask her if her seat was ok. I learned that I wielded the power to hurt people intentionally or not and that either way, I didn't like the way that it felt. I've since said and done things that probably needed to be said, but I wish I wasn't the one who had to say them.

Anyway, that was on my mind today. I felt like sharing.

I am seriously so stoked for Mr. Ben Hays because a) he is awesome, b) he is hilarious and c) he is fracking talented. In any case, the most recent video from the brilliant minds of Ben & Ryan is this:





...and while I know it's the internetz and they're going to have to line up after the star wars boy, the crying screaming Brittney kid, and the 3 year old talking about monsters to get their internetz dollars, this is somehow already bigger than that.

See, these guys actually wrote something, thought it out and put it on the internet. The funniest youtube videos are not scripted - they're a 50 second glimpse of someone doing something stupid or outrageous and then it goes viral. 90% of all scripted youtube videos are not funny. 95% of them are not smart. They happened to do both and I'm so stoked for them because seriously with the skill those guys have it's just the beginning of everything they were going for. Fricking Joe Rogan sent them an e-mail telling them it was the funniest thing he's seen all year!

Brilliant. Congrats Ben - you rule... I'm so excited for you (even though you're a Mac fanboy and I haven't seen you in person since sometime in 2003... but seriously... Ben and Ryan...awesome show, great job.)

I am stressed out right now and I need a little venting room. The seatbelt in my old faithful 1987 Benz got stuck in my driver's side door and now the door won't open or shut all the way. It's stuck in limbo.

I heard it first and turned around and saw that it wasn't shut - no biggie, I just have to pull it open, right? I pull. Nada. I lean back on the handle with all my weight... nothing. I get into a squat position and pull with all my force - not a budge.

I realize now that I'm going to be late for work even though I'm already in my office parking lot... but I can't just let it be. I run around to the passenger side, crawl in and try to open the door that way. Nothing. I pull the handle and lean all my bodyweight against the door, nothing. I lay down putting my feet on the door and basically bench pressing with all my strength, causing the paneling on the inside of my car to creak and sound like it was going to snap. Nothing.

I figure maybe brute force isn't the trick. I try to wedge the seatbelt out of the latch delicately. It doesn't move. I try to wedge the seatbelt out of the latch with all my strength... it wiggles... I think. Maybe it was just my imagination.

I start to get emotionally unstable. The thought of having to cut the seatbelt out quickly turns into the horror of having to use the jaws of life to remove the door on my beloved car. Then I realize more realistically that I can't drive my car in this state. I have no functioning seatbelt and my door is technically open. My car will buzz (my car buzzes, not dings, when the seatbelt is not latched and a door is open) while I drive. This is not going to work.

Anyway... I go into the office. Mike suggests asking a co-worker for help, but I'm too frazzled, embarrassed and emotional to talk to anyone... besides I'm not going to ask my boss to come downstairs and help me with something that will invariably make us both look stupid in the process or cause some inadvertent damage to my car (for which I will hold a secret grudge), other cars or their body... too much at risk.

So my brother - the hero - is coming down during his lunch break to help me. If we cause damage to the car, it will not make me as sad as if I had imagined some random person had carelessly damaged my car. We've already seen eachother looking stupid and he has an understanding of the 80's era Mercedes. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that we'll be able to work it out.

The next step would be AAA I guess.

Almost any other day of the year, you know what would have been step one? Call my dad. He's in Iceland this month and won't be back for another week. He would have been at my office fixing my car as we speak. Ugh. I need to take mechanic classes.

Marcie did it - so I did it! Looks totally possible to me and we all know that MASH always has accurate fortune telling capabilities. (scroll down - I don't know why it's half way down the page.)

		I will marry Mikey.
		After a wild honeymoon, We will settle down in Tokyo in our fabulous Apartment.
		We will have 6 kid(s) together.
		Our family will zoom around in a Bodacious Blue Teleportation Machine.
		I will spend my days as a Superhero with telekenisis, and live happily ever after.

Morgan Spurlock has a show on FX called "30 Days." It's essentially a modified "Wife-Swap" which puts a person with a certain set of opinions into another person's shoes for 30 Days. It's an interesting show and unlike "Wife-Swap" the people on the show are usually intelligent and friendly on both ends of the spectrum. Episodes have included things like: living on minimum wage, living as an illegal immigrant, living in a wheelchair, working in a coal mine, etc. More often than not, people don't really pull a 180 and change their minds, but find that the middle-of-the-road approach has some real value. Last night, the episode placed a deer hunting carnivore from the Midwest into the home of a vegan family in LA for 30 days where he would participate in PETA protests, work at an animal sanctuary and lead a vegan life.

Now, I have some serious issues with PETA. I think they employ and condone a number of extremist tactics which are violent, derogatory to women and offensive to victims and survivors of crimes against humanity. They also have a stance on pet-ownership which I (obviously) strongly disagree with and a stance on breed-specific legislation which I think is ridiculous (considering that they consider humans to be species-discriminatory, why is it ok to be breed-discriminatory?) and some wingnuts have a twisted idea of "humane" when it comes to the plight of shelters(http://www.newsobserver.com/102/story/535593.html) In any case, my support is thrown behind other animal-rights groups and not PETA.

So, when they said they were throwing this meat-loving, dear-hunting, Jim-Bob into a family of PETA activists, I was none too thrilled. They started off by showing him the standard PETA fare - Meet your Meat - which documented in video the horrors and atrocities of animal farming. Chickens crammed into tiny boxes with their beaks ripped off, men slamming chickens down into boxes as if they were rag dolls. Then video of animals being skinned alive, cats with electric paneling surgically installed into their heads... terrible stuff ....and like the Jim-Bob said, a lot of it was so horrible it looked fake (although I doubt it was.)

They go through 30 days, and our protagonist participates in ridiculous protests where nothing of significance is really accomplished other than shock and awe. He is frustrated and annoyed (as I would be) with the pointlessness of the protests. He works at a farm animal rescue and continues to look at these animals as food - nothing has changed.

Well, the change happens when he is taken out to Ontario, CA and is given a tour of one of the many dairy and beef farms in our area and we all see just how real and awful the circumstances are right then and there. The set isn't staged, everything is filmed by the 30 Days camera crew looking through the metal fences. Dead calves rotting next to a pen of dairy cows, or dumped on the side of the road covered in flies, or half alive, anemic and left to starve to death in a field. We see the ranch hands pulling young calves out of their pens, violently yanking them by their tails and legs to toss into the back of a truck as the calves desperately fight to escape them. I couldn't help but cry.

I don't have a problem with eating meat. I had at one time or another tried to be vegetarian (unsuccessfully) or pescetarian (unsuccessfully) and I own a number of vegan and veggie cookbooks with yummy recipes, but I think it boiled down to the fact that my issue was not with eating animals. I believe we are part of the circle of life and while everyone is free to make their dietary decisions, I don't have an issue with actually eating another animal. I have an issue with the unnecessary suffering and treatment of these animals for cheap, mass produced, wasteful food in the name of corporate gain. I am not naive, I know what happens in a slaughterhouse (I went to one when I was young - actually one of the most traumatizing experiences of my life) but I also know that what farmers and indigenous people around the world do and have done for centuries is not at all the same as what these mass-production farms do.

So what am I supposed to do? I've come to believe that being vegetarian or vegan doesn't really impact the meat industry . Vegans and vegetarians are not consumers of meat products and the meat industry isn't interested in pleasing non-consumers. It's the meat-eaters that can actually force change.

There's a rising number of people who consider themselves "Ethical Omnivores." I'm adding my name to that list. This means that I will only eat animal products which are certified as having been raised humanely. I'm not ok with the suffering and I can't pretend that the meat I'm eating at Burger King was not just like one of those poor animals who had it's tail pulled from it's spine as they were trying to launch it up into a pick up truck. I just can't do it.

There are a number of organizations that have strict guidelines as to what humane farming entails and a listing of the products you can purchase that are approved:
http://www.animalwelfareapproved.org/
http://www.americanhumane.org/site/PageServer?pagename=pa_farm_animals_ff_producers
http://www.certifiedhumane.com/links.html#producers

And as a matter of fact, Whole Foods supermarkets have their own set of guidelines for all animal products they carry which enable the shopper to pick out any product with confidence that the animal was raised and slaughtered humanely. http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com/products/meat-poultry/qs_programrequirements.html

It makes going out to eat more difficult - but not impossible - I'll be more of a veg in public unless a restaurant indicates that it's animal products are local, organic and humanely raised. This helps: http://www.eatwellguide.org/i.php?id=Home

The goal is to make ethical farming profitable to force the abusive farm to change their methods and stop abuse and suffering. No one wants an animal to suffer, so why do we support the suffering by pretending it doesn't happen as we scarf down our $0.99 cheeseburger made from 100% mutilated and abused cow. In-N-Out dropped it's contract with it's beef supplier when it discovered animal abuse (which by the way, farm animals are exempt from most animal-abuse legislation) and has set up a policy to only use humanely treated meat products. Chipotle also has humane-animal policy (although there is some controversy surrounding it's Chicken supplier)

Anyway, the point is that change can happen... it's not that hard. For more info or further reading on eating meat with a conscience:
http://humanecalifornia.org/ (info about legislation to change the laws in CA)
http://www.tigersandstrawberries.com/ (chef's blog about with some very interesting posts on getting back in touch with our food - humanely)

I’ve been on a quest for about the last 3 months to find a new doctor. I’ve had HMO health insurance for the majority of my life and continued to see my HMO doctor even after switching to a PPO health plan. My job provides me with great insurance benefits so I am no longer limited to the practices of an HMO where I sat in the waiting room for an hour, spent 20 minutes in the office waiting, and then have the doctor come in for 15 minutes for a chat, diagnosis and prescription drug.

I’m lucky to never have had any very serious illnesses - but to be honest with the experience I’ve had with doctors it’s not as if I would know. The last time I went to the doctor, I went because I wanted to make sure my heart was healthy. My dad is thin, never smoked, doesn’t drink and had to have emergency sextuplet bypass heart surgery when he was in his early 50’s.

The doctors had no idea that all six of his arteries were blocked and that he was on the verge of a fatal heart attack. He went in with chest pains and my mom had to be very persistent to finally get the doctor to check him into the hospital for heart trouble. When my dad was in surgery, a nurse met with my brother and I to discuss what this meant for the two of us. She looked at us - both at a good weight, non smoking - and basically told us, "you’re screwed."

Genetics were the primary contributing factor to my dad’s heart disease and she told us that most likely we would both have the same sort of troubles.

Nice. In any case, I went to the doctor a few years after that and explained my family’s medical history and that I just wanted to be sure that I was ok. Here’s a rough transcription of how my appointment went after that point:

Doctor: You’re young, you’re thin, you don’t smoke and you don’t drink regularly. Plus you’re a woman so your estrogen keeps you at lower risk for heart disease. Have you had any symptoms that you feel concerned about?
Me: No not really, but I just want to be sure before it’s too late.
Doctor: Ok, well I wouldn’t worry about it too much. (as she checks my vitals.) You could probably exercise more but everyone should.
Me: Well, can I get a blood test?
Doctor: Sure (she scribbles on a notepad)
Me: I don’t’ know anything about what to ask for, but can you make sure it has all that comprehensive stuff, you know cholesterol and everything?
Doctor: Yes - just take this to the 4th floor and they’ll take care of you. If anything abnormal shows up then we can go from there.
Me: Uh, ok. Thanks.
Doctor: Anything else?
Me: No. I guess not.

Total time with the doctor - 15 minutes. Total time in the building, waiting for the appointment and waiting to get my blood drawn? 2 hours. Results came back, mostly normal except I was 1 point away from having "high cholesterol" at 24 weighing 127 lbs. I recieved the results in the mail and interpreted them myself based on the notes scribbled on there from the testing clinic. I called the doctors office, waited to talk to a nurse who got on the phone with me and said, "everything is fine, watch your cholesterol" and hung up.

My experience with my old HMO doctor prior to this one was worse. My mom asked him to run some tests for something she thought I might be having issues with. He looked at me and said how are you feeling. I responded "fine." (I was feeling fine.) He looked at my mom and said "if it’s not broken, don’t fix it." Sure, at the time I didn’t want to be poked and prodded so I welcomed his response, but now that I’m older, I can understand how frustrating this must have been for my mom.

Anyway, I had had enough and I begun trying to find information for a new doctor with my fancy non-HMO insurance. The most I used my PPO for was to go to the walk-in clinic near my home for treatment any time I had a minor issue and was basically experiencing the same treatment without having to drive to Orange to see my primary care physician. 20 minutes in the office waiting, 15 minute chat with the doc, diagnosis and prescription drug. Wham bam, thank you ma’am.

I basically have 4 criteria for my new doctor - listed in order of importance:
1) Female, MD
2) None of this 15-minute-per-patient rush
3) Supports preventative treatment and minimal use of pharmaceuticals
4) Takes my insurance.

I was convinced that a PPO would give me limitless choices in the world of medicine. I had already enjoyed the benefits of a PPO for dental work and I could never turn back (as I have a totally insane phobia of dentists and their sharp metal torture devices and now I can get laser work instead!) I assumed finding a new and awesome doctor would be as easy as 1-800-Doctor.

No. This is not the case with Doctors. I can get 80 user reviews on a Pizza Hut pizza, but I can’t get any feedback on a single doctor from my "In-Network" list of care providers anywhere on the web.

All I have is a name, an address and a couple hundred online offers to send me a report of any malpractice lawsuits against my doctor for a "nominal" fee.

None of the doctors on my In-Network list in Orange County are board certified and worse than that, half the time I can’t tell if Chao-Ming, Dana, Arfa, Jo and Kea are male or female first names.

I don’t think the "Institute of Progressive Medicine" takes our insurance. It’s a place that I found that meets all of my criteria except for number 4. There’s a female MD on staff. These doctors say they spend between 1 and 2 hours with the patient on their first appointment to test and assess. They specialize in prevention and avoid overuse of antibiotics and other loosely prescribed pharma (although they clearly state that there is a need for those medications when used and prescribed correctly.)This is exactly what I had been looking for! And in order to get it, I’d have to pay out of pocket.

I found an article in the Register talking about how a lot of higher end doctors are pissed off about watching necessary treatments for their patients be denied by insurance, or not getting paid for services by insurance companies so they’ve begun to drop private insurance companies and only accept cash payments. They provide billing information to the patient so that the patient can go through the hassle of collecting reimbursement funds from their insurance for applicable out of network costs, but they no longer have to go after the funds themselves and loose out on money they’re owed. Anyway, one of the owners of the Institute of Progressive Medicine was quoted as having dropped their last PPO in September of 2007 because of billing and collecting issues.

It sucks for us as patients and it sucks for the doctors. I guess that’s the whole problem with these stupid insurance companies anyway. You can’t live with them and you can’t live without them (as of right now.)

Anyway - perhaps some of you know a fantastic doctor that happens to meet all my criteria and works out of the Orange County area. It would be a million times more awesome if she were in the Newport/Costa Mesa/Irvine areas. And a billion times more awesome if she served nachos in her lobby.

I'm sure you're all wondering why I've seemed so distant from the blogging world lately. It's true - I've been somewhat uninspired by the typical meaningless bloggy blog things and when I write blogs about the world or politics, most people either don't care or are bored. That's fine. I take my political rants home and vent them there (and there's a new book out called "Free Lunch" that I'm reading and makes my head spin with all the things I need to be pissed off about... but I digress...)

The reason I haven't been faithfully blogging recently is because I'm an addict. Yes. They tried to make me go to rehab and I said, um, no thanks. I watch Celebrity Rehab, and maybe I should be in there... only I'm not addicted to drugs or alcohol - I'm addicted to Yahoo Puzzle Games.

The games are simple, repetitive, silly - but right now nothing satisfies me more than clearing a set of gems or helping a set of missionaries and cannibals cross the stream. I can't help it. All I want to do is match sea shells and release new fish into the internet's ocean, attach vines and clear the way for the monkeys, finish a tangram made of sparkly jewels.

At first it was just my old standby game, Alchemy - I played whenever I had time to spare... I got good... I started saving my high scores onto a word document so I could beat my own high scores. It rarely happened, but when it did I felt like I had just won the Olympic Gold Medal of Awesomeness.

Turns out Alchemy was a gateway drug. After a few weeks, Alchemy just wasn't cutting it for me anymore. I stopped caring if I was able to match double lines using only one symbol. I needed more. I began experimenting with anything I could get my hands on. Soon I was playing Bejeweled 2, and Ball Lines. Yahoo offered me a long list of puzzle games and since they knew I'd probably be a broke addict, they continued to offer me a variety of games for free that would peek my interest, but leave me drooling for more (what they maybe didn't anticipate is that I'm also a cheap addict... so no matter how awesome the game is, I'll never pay $19.99 for the full version... if I beat the web version, it means I beat the game... next...) And then I met... Big Kahuna .

Big Kahuna started out like any other matching game - you matched at least three in a row, diagonal or vertical and the spots cleared. Big Kahuna was set in the ocean, with a tiki and every time you cleared you released a new fish. Whatever - I didn't care, another matching game I needed to plow through and beat. Levels one through 5 were child's play. I beat each level in under a minute.

Level 6.

Level 6 took all three of my renewable puzzle game lives. It was impossible. I spent 3 days working on Big Kahuna level 6 until I finally beat it once. Convinced that it must have been pure luck that I beat it I tried again. It took me another 2 days to beat level 6 again - and when I did, I just barely beat the clock. I've beat it twice now - level 7, 8 and 9 are easy as pie... but level 6 wants to just punch you in the spleen.

So like any good addict, I'm going to try and push my addiction onto you - my friends - so I don't have to be addicted alone. Obviously I reccomend Big Kahuna... but there are others.

These games seem really simple but will bug the shit out of you unless you figure it out on the first two tries. Once you solve them, you'll have no desire to play again - but the high you get when you want to punch your computer monitor for showing you such a frustrating puzzle is worth it: Missionaries and Cannibals and Arrows

Cubis 2 is a variation on your basic match and clear games, like Bejeweled2 and Ball Lines.. fun - and the crunch blocks are so fun to smoosh.

Puzzle Inlay is a giant tangram - something soothing about fitting pieces together... and you'll need something soothing if you try and play String Avoider 2 which might be one of the most addicting and frustrating games to date.

Anyway, that is all for now. I must continue my exploration for new and exciting puzzle games. I may or may not return. Remember me always - not as the girl who was addicted to puzzle games, but as the girl who loved nachos and other things too.

When my brother was in the All American Boys Chorus they'd sing "I'll Be Home for Christmas" at their Christmas concerts and if I remember correctly, their arrangement started out with:


(and then on cue, the audience would clap)

Apple (the little beast) wrapped up in a mess of things she shouldn't be wrapped up in...





and Maggie... the sweet little angel...




I finished putting up all the ornaments I took from my mom's collection - a couple apples, a couple tops, a couple crystals mixed in with a bunch of ornaments from the 70's, a couple ceramic angels that no one can really remember and our two new ornaments.

Our tree is up - it's not perfect, the ribbons are a little crooked, but we love it. Michael said he always had colored lights in his Christmas tree, so I found these big colored Christmas tree light bulbs and mixed them in there. They're my new favorite lights.

We still don't have a tree topper. I told Michael he'd have to pick one up or find one and we would put it up top. I can't wait to see what he finds.

That's about it for now... we've been experimenting with mulled wine recipes since we had some on our trip up to the Central Coast. It seemed like a cozy "adult" Christmas drink - and now that we have our own tree, we're feeling more and more like grown ups. I'm determined to figure it out... so if you have any fantastic recipes, send them my way.















Apple, not so sure what to make of this new thing.








Yes, even a California Angels Ornament.

"Radio has no future. Heavier-than-air flying machines are impossible. X-rays will prove to be a hoax." -William Thomson, Lord Kelvin English scientist, 1899.

The X-Files movie is slated for release sometime in 2008 (hopefully.)

I love the X-Files. I have no idea how many times I've watched all the episodes, but I have all 9 seasons on DVD and the Mythology set... and I've watched them all in consecutive order, then in the order of my favorite episodes (numero uno being the episode that Chris Carter based on his visit to the city of Irvine - "Arcadia" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GixZdibeyJ4 where a disgusting garbage monster kills people for not obeying the HOA covenants, codes and regulations) then in order of my favorite monsters, etc. etc. etc. I love the X-Files.

I was reading about all the hype around Dennis Kucinich saying he saw a UFO. I didn't think it was too strange myself - after all, both Jimmy Carter and Ronald Regan claimed to have seen a UFO while they were governors of their states. I suppose those were different times though.

I remembered listening to Kevin and Bean and hearing an interview with Buzz Aldrin. He described his venture into outer space for Apollo 11 with Armstrong and Collins and their near-UFO experience. Here's a You Tube video with him describing the same thing:



There's a whole buttload of other NASA Astronauts who say they've had interaction with UFOs or have seen them while on missions into outer space (a superficial Google search revealed at least these: Cady Coleman NASA transmission shuttle mission STS-73; Astronaut Dr. Brian O'Leary; Charles J. Camarda Ph.D. NASA Astronaut; NASA's Scott Carpenter.) So the people who work in outer space are saying that there are unidentified flying objects in outer space which our intelligence agencies can not explain as spy vehicles from any earthly country - how can one laugh at anyone who says "I think I've seen a UFO?"

England has a department that is dedicated to the investigation of UFO sightings. When investigations began 80% of those sightings were easily explained away as a mis-sighting (weather balloon, traffic lights, aircraft, etc.) 15% lacked enough information to investigate appropriately and 5% of the information had complete and reliable information (multiple unrelated witnesses, radar, RAF pilot testimonies, etc.), yet still was totally unexplainable. Unidentifiable. Object. Flying.

I understand that for all governments that these issues are matters of national security - they have to do their investigation in secrecy assuming that it could always possibly be a result of some foreign nation with incredible skills that we had no idea existed... but if that's not the case, I wonder if the governments would come out and say, yes, officially there is some sort of unidentified flying technology and we're trying to figure it out.

In the X-Files they don't tell anyone because at first they claim it would cause mass panic - in the end, it's really because a sect of these mean aliens are trying to colonize our planet and have made a deal with an organization of elite men to save their asses by not being infected with the virus that will turn them into psycho ass aliens... but their asses would only be saved if they didn't tell anyone. Mulder finds out, kicks ass, ends up in a motel room with Scully awaiting the end. Also, there was some stuff with the Mayans and you know the origin of our species being alien and crap. All awesome.

Anyway, there's an episode where Cigarette Smoking Man and another head FBI official (who technically doesn't "exist") have been told that they have captured a live alien and have to make the decision to kill it or let Agent Mulder know. They kill the alien. I hope we're not killing aliens now too.

I never knew what Harry and David was until I started working in an office. It's the office gift basket of choice so a few years ago when gift catalogues started pouring in at the holidays and my office bigwigs mulled over the Harry and David options, I thought this was another sure sign of the apocalypse. It was $29.95 for 4 apples and 4 pears! That's $3.75 per fruit not including shipping! How could anyone pay that much for a fruit? I could just swing by the whole foods market and bring a bushel back for the same price, we'll throw it in a basket and be on with it.

That is until I tried it myself.

Our company gets a big H&D basket every year from one of our clients. My bigwigs - being great bosses - set it out in the kitchen to be shared. The first year was a basket of "Royal Riviera" pears and nuts. I don't eat nuts, and I don't like pears, but I have a hard time turning down free snack food so I grabbed a pear and headed back to my desk.

Holy balls, these must have been the pears that the good Lord Himself planted in the Garden of Eden. The skin was thin, delicate and just a tad tart. The fruit was smooth and dripping with this amazing syrupy juice - it was so soft you could scoop it out with a spoon. I had never smelled a pear that once split had an aroma that I would like to rub all over my body. THIS must be what a pear was intended to be!!! Organic! Alive! It was heaven.

I ran back to the kitchen (being the glutton I am) to grab maybe one or two more (you know, for the road...) but they were gone by the time I got there.

I eagerly awaited the next year. Oh, for one bite of that pear - I had spent the year surfing their website looking at their gorgeous pears and telling myself over and over again that I could not justify spending that much for a simple pear. I'd go to the store, buy a pear only to eat half of it. Despite this, I did well. I didn't buy a thing from Harry and David's website.

Christmas time came again and the big Harry and David's basket found itself sitting in the kitchen. I must have a friends in high places because I was the first one to discover it sitting there all alone in it's virgin state and I was there to pillage! This time it had a variety of treats - pears, apples, chocolates, nuts... and CHEESE.

My heart pounded.

How am I going to carry this all to my desk without looking suspicious? I heard footsteps and talking coming towards the office kitchen.

I can't take one of each back to my desk to hoard like a chubby chipmunk for the winter! Oh god... not enough time...

Too late.

They turned the corner and gabbed away as they perused the selection. I was already holding an apple... I couldn't grab a pear now... but I can't just leave with only a regular old apple! I want an apple and a pear... and chocolate... and CHEESE. The cheese. I could take the cheese.

I grabbed the first block of Cheddar Cheese I could reach and opened it up and began slicing it (you know... to be "helpful" and stuff...) One of my co-workers eyed the cheese I was slicing - mentioned something about how she couldn't wait to try it - I don't know what she said... my head was spinning. I sliced up the whole block.

I took 3 slices and put them on my mini-plate next to my apple. My co-workers turned their attention to the coffee machines... I quickly grabbed at least 4 more slices of cheese and threw them on my plate and dashed out before they could think thoughts about my weight gain since starting my desk job.

I looked at this "Crisp Mountain" apple with disdain. An apple is an apple - what I really wanted was a pear. I sliced the apple at my desk (I have a plastic knife and cutting board set at my desk... weird, but useful) and I was taken aback by the soft apple scent that fluttered up through my olfactory glands. I satiated my watering mouth with a crisp wedge of this cool crunchy apple.

I finally understood why Eve couldn't resist a piece of fruit. This must have been the apple hanging on the tree of wisdom. My primal urges lunged toward my plate intent on scarfing the rest of the apple - seeds would be nothing more than collateral damage. The office setting and my years of training as a well behaved member of society stopped me. I paused, took a deep breath and picked up a piece of the cheese.

Oh god. The cheese.

Let's have a moment of silence to honor the cheese.
.
.
.
.
Thank you.

I took a bite of apple and immediately felt refreshed, alive, excited... and quickly followed it with a bite of cheese - savored it, breathed it, absorbed it. I was in an altered state - that could be the only explanation for what I did next. A little something I like to call "Apple in a Cheese Blanket." Yes, I rolled a slice of cheese around an apple and stuffed it in my mouth. That was the moment I understood that the universe actually existed in the Supreme Being's mouth and was a result of the reaction of combining Harry and David's cheese and apple into one bite. I went back into the kitchen to check on the status of the gift basket a few hours later. The fruit was all gone. I had expected as much. I was about to leave when I saw a little twinkle of yellow-orange sunshine peek out from the darkness. To my surprise the dish of sliced cheese had been pushed back behind the large box and was tucked away between the wall and the box edge. There were at least 15 slices left!

I couldn't eat all 15, could I? That would amount to over 100% of my daily saturated fat daily allowance. Could I really do that to my body? Could I be that overcome by a block of what amounts to be rotted dairy?

I don't know who Harry and David are, but they must have sold their souls to the devil and farm their fruits in the actual Garden of Eden hidden from the likes of us regular mortals. Even though business is slow this year, I'm hoping our client still has it in them to send us a box of Harry and David goodies. They have a new set of Pearsnapples (the box combining 4 pears and 4 apples) with fresh "Rogue Valley" blue cheese. That sounds like it would be a good option.. although I'm sure I'd be equally happy with the Delux Pearsnapples set with 2 cheddars, a jack, and a Danish havarti.

Oh, and to answer my own question, I can... I did...and I'd do it again.

Ok, so the media isn't particularly liberal or conservative - it's entirely corporate... just like the politicians they're parading as the top contenders for the next presidential election. The "media" admits it - setting up a self-fulfilling prophesy...you know, to help you "focus":












I can't vote in the primaries because I'm not registered with a political party - but if you are I urge you to turn off your tv and radio and do the reading starting now.... for my sake. Since you are my friends, I assume you are smart enough to read up on the issues and have well formed opinions of your own even if we disagree. If not, and you need help getting started, message me and I'll give you some pointers.

Still not totally sure who you're rooting for? Take a couple of fun quizzes to get you looking in the right direction:

Quiz 1
Quiz 2
Quiz 3

Honestly if someone is going to tell me, come 2008, that I am going to have to choose between the "lesser of two evils," I'd prefer that the two evils weren't bought and paid for by big business. Kay? I'm tired of all the Guilianni-Clinton-Romney-Obama-McCain-Edwards fluffy playland of almost having a real answer but not really (did anyone watch the debates? You can catch them on YouTube... I was so annoyed... just answer the damn questions with a damn answer. )

Anyway - here's the Primary Election calendar: http://www.fvap.gov/pubs/primarycal.html

And here's the list of Closed Primary states: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Closed_primary so if you don't live in one of those states, maybe you can find out if you are eligible to vote in the primaries!

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A Fox, a Wolf and a Whole Lot of Bull

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I had a dream last night that involved some sort of controversy over interracial dating - actually I think it may have been more like inter-galactic dating as the issue was over a human dating some sort of non-human alien spirit thing. That's the way my brain works when I sleep.

In any case, the dream is not important but as I brushed my teeth and got dressed this morning I began to reflect on my own dating history and suddenly realized that I can not for the life of me remember my first kiss. I froze.

I mean, your first kiss! All the movies, the books, cartoons and comics clearly indicate that your first kiss is a big deal. Whether it be awesome or embarrassing, you're supposed to be able to look back on your 70th birthday and tell your great grandchildren about that first kiss. It's only been maybe 9 years and I have already forgotten. Is this early onset Alzheimer's?

I'm assuming I didn't have my first kiss until after graduation from high school. I think. Right? Ok, time to reflect.

In the 6th grade, I played spin the plastic soda bottle in a jacuzzi with 2 other girls and 3 boys at our end-of-the-year class party (which was held at one of my classmate's homes.) One of the girls and one of the guys were "dating," so when they spun the bottle, it conveniently landed on them and they could kiss each time. The rule was that whoever spun the bottle got to make up the rules of the kiss - you know - with tongue, lips only, on the cheek, underwater, in the eye, etc.

I was mostly just watching until they decided to turn on me. They spun the bottle to me and I had to kiss some kid named Martin. I was not attracted to Martin and I can pretty much guarantee he was not attracted to me. As much as I tried to back out, my friends at the time (who were apparently evil 6th graders) peer pressured us into it - our rules were that we had to kiss, underwater, eyes closed, on the lips. Resigning to the fact that my first kiss was going to be in a jacuzzi to Martin of all people, I reluctantly dove beneath the surface where Martin met me and proceeded to head butt me in the forehead. Our lips did not touch - thank god - and our friends were satisfied thinking we had kissed.

So, that was not my first kiss. I think that was my first head butt though.

In High School I may have had the most crushes of anyone in a high school in the world. Off the top of my head, there was Jeremy (aka. Germs. The incredibly hot and dumb surfer boy who left after freshman year), his incredibly hot friend Mark Humphries, this guy David who was in the class before mine (maybe his last name was Ramirez? I dunno) and Travis Coleman who wooed me with his dancing skills (if only I had my gaydar installed in high school) then Michael Layton (who was pretty much the only guy I knew in a serious relationship and who later became my husband) and of course Brent Mendoza (who I proceeded to stalk at school... like seriously. I stalked him. It took me forever to find it, but here's my old Brent blog) and a whole list of other boys who I decided I was in love with and never spoke to. I wanted hot teenage action like nobody's business - and of course, I never got it.

I went out on a few dates with boys who did not go to my high school - I remember going on those dates, but I am 99% sure I did not kiss them. There was Justin, LeRoy, Travis H and Johnny. We went on dates, we never made out. As a matter of fact, 2 of them were ultra-Christians and I don't think they wanted to kiss until they were married, one smelled like cigarettes and fried chicken, and the other just intimidated me because he was way more experienced than I was. Once again, no hot teen love scenes.

Right after graduation from High School, Nick and I started dating. I had known Nick since we were kids and he wasn't really my type. BUT - for the love of all that is holy - I had spent 4 years drowning in my hormones and someone was finally interested in me! I wanted my action!

Nick must have been my first kiss. We dated for a few months so I know we did kiss.

Maybe it was on my senior trip to Hawaii... because I think that's when we officially started dating. I think. Was it some amazing romantic first kiss on the white beaches of Oahu with the sun setting and casting a glow on my toned high school abs and huge tits while a cool breeze blew through my hair and he leaned me back and went in for the kill? Or was it some awkward kiss in a sleeping bag right next to all our friends on the floor of his parent's Oahu bungalow?

I have a feeling it was the latter. I never had toned abs or huge tits and I don't remember any amazing romantic kisses in Hawaii. I think we were trying to keep our dating a secret. I think I must have even been wearing my retainer too (because the trip to Hawaii was the last time I wore my retainer at night and when I got back home, my retainer didn't fit anymore) and I was sunburned since our first day out there I got the worst sunburn of my life. And lastly, I'm pretty sure all of our make out sessions were on the floor in the living room in our sleeping bags right next to all our friends in classic high school action style. So, my first kiss must have been awkward and painful.

Does it matter that I can't specifically remember my first kiss? I feel like there's a gap in the mad-lib of my life because I can't recall it in either a fond or embarrassing light. Maybe it will come back to me someday in a sort of Vietnam War-esque flashback. I'll be casually walking along minding my own business when, BAM! it will all hit me like a ton of bricks. I'll remember the twang of my retainer, the pain of the sunburn and the warm ookie gooeyness of making out with someone's inexperienced tongue and then I'll start screaming and crying in the middle of a grocery store leaving the other shoppers to wonder. Maybe not.

I very clearly remember my first kiss with Michael (it was awesome.) I guess when I grab hold of my great grand children and force them to listen to the stories of my youth as the desperately try to wiggle away, I'll have to start - "I remember my first kiss that mattered." (Awww... isn't that disgustingly mushy?)

Mike & my brother frequently accuse me of not liking things simply because the majority of people do like them. Mike's prime examples are always "Rent" and "Harry Potter" - two franchises I refuse to have any involvement with whatsoever. Eventually the argument will open up to the number of things that I have mentioned in the past that I dislike with fervor for no obvious reason.

Despite the massive popularity of "Rent", "Harry Potter", "Sex & The City", "American Idol", "iTunes", "Madonna", "Brittney Spears" etc etc etc. what might normally be a general disinterest based on my personal preferences turns into a revolt against everything within that world. What causes me to do this? I must analyze.

Rent. The first time I can recall doing this was when Rent was in everyone's cars early my senior year in high school (along with the god awful Backstreet Boys, N-Sync and the Spice Girls.) I was in 2 musicals my senior year - Godspell & Follies - some of the best times in my entire high school career. I enjoyed musical theater. Someone loaned me a copied tape of Rent. I wasn't particularly struck by the music, it wasn't horrible, but it didn't move me the way Les Miserables had moved me the summer before. I knew the story - I had been in La Boehme only a year or two before with Opera Pacific, it wasn't my favorite production, but I liked it. I knew I wouldn't be a Rent fan, but it would go into the bucket of other musical theater productions that I was not a fan of (that bucket is mostly filled with Andrew Lloyd Webber productions) and I would forget about it.

Only, I wasn't allowed to forget about it. Holy dillywhackers - everybody and their mother was re-enacting Rent right and left. You be the boy, I'll be the girl, I'll be the tranny and GO. No matter where I would hide, I couldn't escape it. Rehearsals, class, after school - everyone was talking about how Rent was the BEST thing to happen to musical theater.

My casual disinterest slowly grew and bubbled into a total vomit fest. I became the anti-Rent. Now I would no longer be disinterested, I would actively be hating Rent. Even a few years later, when Rent (the movie) was out in theaters, I held onto my fiery hate of Rent and refused to even watch the film.

Harry Potter. I think I may be the only person left who has not read a single page of the Harry Potter books and who could care less to crack open a page. Mike has read all the books. Actually, most people I knew read all the books - that's fine.

What would bug the living crap out of me was when people would carry around their massive hard cover Harry Potter books and read them in public - at work, in school, in class, on the sidewalk - everywhere. They were worse than those damned Louis Vuitton bags that everyone had and these books were used as just as much of a status symbol - as if to let others know "yes, I'm reading a very large book, and yes, it's Harry Potter and the Curse of my Hairy Balls and it's so good that I'm reading it for the 3rd time too." I couldn't walk around work or school without eventually having one Harry Potter Ballsac talk to another about how great the book they were reading was and if they already got to such and such part and then look at me as if I were some sort of retard for not already having read the entire book 3 times. As if I had been missing out on some information of global importance. My disinterest warped once again. I became the anti-Harry-Potter.

When Mike & I were dating, I went to watch one of the movies with him. Mike put a lot of effort into coercing me into the theater. We caught an early matinee a couple weeks after opening (so I could avoid the throngs of Harry Potter fans and their books.) I was into the movie. I liked that blonde girl's hair-do. Things were going surprisingly well for someone who hated the world of Harry Potter.

Then it happened. A good kid dies and his dad cries. His dad - a grown man with thinning hair - cries really loud. And a lot. It was really sad. There are 4 things that will prevent me from enjoying movies. 1) hurting cute animals 2) tragic parent-child relationships 3) Eva Mendez 4) realistic violence (unrealistic blood splatter or violence is totally fine.) This moment ruined the delicate thread I was walking on with Harry Potter. It was a well made movie and of a topic I might find myself interested in, but that death threw me back into my dark place of hating Harry Potter.

Now, you might think that Mike & my brother are right - obviously it's the sheer number of inescapable fans that cause me to feel this way - but that's not exactly it either.

I love geeky things (if Harry Potter is as geeky as you get - you're not a geek) I'm a rabid X-files fan. I watch anime for crissakes. Star Trek fans, Star Wars fans, LOTR fans, Morrissey fans - none of them drive me to repulsion in the same way that my short list does.

I'm not into Star Trek. There are trek fans everywhere but I don't find myself ready to punch someone in the face for saying they would totally hook up with Seven of Nine. I knew of Star Wars fans before I knew of the movies. I has seen wussy and gangsta Morrissey fans, but still became a fan myself, and although I don't consider myself to be anything like the majority of Morrissey fans, it didn't stop me from joining in. It's not just the fans. There's something else.

Maybe it's a case of 1 apple spoiling the whole bunch before I get a chance to understand the flavors of the fruit myself. Maybe somewhere along the line I interacted with an obnoxious Rent fan, or irritating Harry Potter fan who forever ruined my experience allowing me to forgive my friends for their fandom, but never allowing me to actively participate? This bad apple may have taken something I would have casually ignored and became the catalyst for pop-hatred.

Whatever it may be, the point is - Mike and Johnal - that I don't dislike things just because everybody else likes them. I have many reasons and they may not be very deep, but you guys only harp on it because everybody else does like them and you can't understand why I'm not one of them. Well boys, it's complicated. Deal with it.