Saturday, May 21, 2011

Linwood Delong

Linwood Delong had just sent me an email promising “no carnal breakdowns 120%.” I’m not sure what the percentage refers to, and I don’t think I can bring myself to begin a conversation with a man called “Linwood Delong”. He also tells me that “Best cures for male libido are sold here on the web!” Is that a cure for women who have male libidos, for men with a libido, or for one or the other who would like to have a male libido but don’t? He also implores me to “Try on lowered prices now!” I think I look better in full-prices, but I’m open to trying on lowered ones, too.

Do people respond to those emails? Is it a good business move? I’m trying to picture, or not picture, I should say, the many sitting at his computer who says to himself, “Yes, that’s exactly what I need.” I imagine he doesn’t do much more than sit at his computer, which makes me sad and more than just a little grossed out. He probably also wins at solitaire and has several games of World of Warcraft going. Poor balding, smelly, hairy, toe-picking, Journey concert-shirt-wearing man.

Hal has gone on a Facebook hiatus. Maybe he was tired of communicating with me via that private forum. He had something he really, really wanted to post, though, so he made me do it for him. It involves a video camera, a troop of Boy Scouts and the title “Campgrounds of Doom.” It is exactly as bad as you think it is. A friend of ours wrote, produced, directed and filmed it. A genius he may be, but if he ever replaces Lucas, I’m going to hold this early movie over his head until he pays me loads of money and promises to name his first born child after me.

For my part, I am not on any sort of hiatus, unless it’s a cleaning hiatus. May has become the new December around here, not only because it’s still snowing, but because the school has thrown in every sort of program, recital, performance and party they can think of. Each child has an end-of-school project, an end-of-school performance and an end-of-school graduation ceremony. I’ve got an end-of-school need to sleep which is not being helped in spite of loads of Tylenol PM. I might need the heavy stuff. I might need a new bottle of Nyquil.

Or maybe I should reply to Linwood’s email. He might have a magic snake medicine that will help me sleep. I’ll let you know if he does.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Raisin in the Sun

I walked into the gym prepared to battle the treadmill for 11 miles. I have Baby Boy on one hip, my Ipod fully charged and a bottle of zero calorie Vitamin Water, which is nasty and bitter unless you’re dying of thirst. I’m wearing shorts because I hate clothes touching my sweaty body but I haven’t yet found a private nudist gym. Very private, as in only one member--me. I check Baby Boy into the nursery and tell him to be good for the next 2 hours. I’m not a fast runner. I walk to the treadmills which are on the opposite side of the gym. I’m ready. I am a warrior. I am a running maniac. I am...

Wearing a squished raisin on my knee.

I’m not very astute when it comes to fashion, but even I know that wearing big chunks of food should be avoided. Unless you’re Lady Gaga, and then you can only wear meat, it seems. The vegetarian version of that outfit is not nearly as comment-provoking.

But it did get me some good stares, which is why I noticed it.

I would not make a good politician. First of all, because I say stupid things all the time, and stupid things always seem to make the news. Second, because I walk out of the house without checking myself in the mirror. I’m rather surprised that I haven’t had raisins coating my body more often. Third, I have morals. Not high ones, and not anything Mother Teresa would recognize as being moral, but more than politicians have.

So, here’s Mitt Romney. I don’t like him. I don’t trust people with hair that perfect. Aside from his hair, I don’t like his remade political views. But I’ve got to hand it to him. Massachusetts is dying over the ballooning costs of the health care system he put in place, and instead of back-pedaling, he’s chutzpah-ing through it. Man is either stupid or has cajones. I’m still not sending him money, though.

I think Palin and Romney should be on a ticket together. It could be called the Hair Team.

I hate politics. But worse than politics is the lack of a functioning political system. Think of the Congo, where it’s estimated that 1,152 women are raped. A day. That’s 48 women per hour. It takes political control through fear to a whole new level.

Here’s a quote from an 18 year old soldier. “We rape women in order to beat the enemy.” One-third of the rapes involve children, and 13 percent are against children under 10.

This is what I would like to see politicians figuring out. The most powerful nation in the world, at least until our rating is downgraded because we can’t pay our loans, and we’re worried about raisins on our knees instead of the state of our sisters. We’re more worried about seeing Obama’s birth certificate than we are about the suffering of the whole nation of Congo.

Excuse me now. I’ve got to step off my high horse.