Seven.Caged.Tigers

Once again I’m shocked by the ignorance and stupidity oozing from out of every Bush pore. The man has seriously stated that he supports a constitutional ban on gay marriages. Remember–the Constitution has but twenty seven amendments. They rangle from the rights of congress to the rights of people. HUMAN RIGHTS. Unfortunately, what Bush is trying to do is remove human rights from people.

What’s next? Will all liberals be banished? How about book burnings? Oh! I know! He’s going to exile all speakers of the truth to Antarctica. Heck…he’ll send Michael Moore first.

In any case, I think that his speaking of the banning of gay marriages has as much to do with diverting attention from the war. Ah yes…that horrible, ill conceived war that began with a lie and has continued for no particular reason. People die every day. People who maybe wouldn’t have gone to Iraq had it not been for Bush’s blatant, idiot lies. But in Bush pushing the idea of banning gay marriages I believe he’s doing himself a major disservice.

Most people realize that allowing for gay marriages is a human right. Marriage has zero to do with religion and much more to do with tradition. Keep in mind that I am an atheist married to–gasp–an atheist. Anyway, marriage if not for the legal aspect wouldn’t exist in the US. I was married by a Mayor who had the right to sign the legal paperwork. But a minister must file with the county in order to make it legal. Therefore, the power lies in the hands of the government. Seems to be very much NOT religious to me. All Bush’s claims that it is a religious sacrament are ridiculous. My husband and I are proof enough of that.

I’m so incredibly angered by this whole mess. Bush is a horrible, awful President who clearly has his own issues and vendettas. All Presidents have their own interests to deal with, but most put them aside in order to first do what’s best for the country. Too bad about this jerk we have in the top US position right now.

So when you vote in November keep in mind that we have all been lied to and decieved. That thousands upon thousands have died. That the man behind the 9-11 tragedy is still at large. That marriage regardless of sexual orientation is a human right and that the issue has no business being in the federal eye. Keep in mind that we need a massive regime change. Keep in mind that it is for the best of our country. We are headed toward a dictator state. It scares the shit out of me.

One step closer to having my eye fixed. The date is but a week away…I guess that means that the next seven days are going to move at approximately half the speed of a sloth. In any case, I can’t see right now to save my life. I had my eyes dialated. I can see in the distance (where there’s zero sunlight) but up close is a huge chore. In fact, right now I’ve got my glasses off because my vision is better up close sans correction.

Eh. Oh well…it’s all going to be SO worth it in the end. Shelly, the girl who could never see, will for once in her life be able to wake up and not put on glasses. She’ll be able to pass out drunk (not that I do that all too often) without worrying about first taking out my contacts. She’ll be able to fall asleep in the car without the lenses rolling up into her eyes. Finally, she’ll be able to read in bed and on the off chance she falls asleep the shape of her glasses won’t be imprinted on her face…

Oh yeah, baby…I’m rockin’ and rollin’ now!

When I turned five years old I decided I was a big girl. I didn’t think big girls carried around blankets or sucked their thumb. So I stopped–cold turkey and without any apparent reservation. I even gave my grandmother half my special yellow blankie for safe keeping. I suddenly in the passing of just one day grew up.

But not all was well in Shellyland. See, I was without question orally fixated. My mother says that the first moment she saw me, my left thumb (funny considering I’m right handed) was already firmly planted in my mouth. The doctor said I probably sucked the appendage even in utero. I am the worst kind of orally fixated person I guess. It is an inborn habit. I was never even given so much as a fighting chance.

So on my fifth birthday I stopped one habit and picked up another. I started biting my nails. In the past nearly 22 years, I’ve continued on that road. I’ve never been able to stop for more than a few months, and it’s probably been a good seven or so years since I’ve made any real attempt. I’ve just resigned myself to the fact that I can’t stop. And I’m fine with it. I know my hands are ugly–because when I say I bite my nails I also mean that I rarely see even seasoned nailbiters with worse hangnails, cuticles, and the like. Like I said I’m incredibly orally fixated—and catch myself doing it at all moment of the day.

Growing up, I was made to think my behavior was gross and abnormal. My parents bought that polish that tastes like something dead. I got used to it and bit right through it. I wore gloves to bed to try to make myself think I shouldn’t bite my nails. It didn’t work. My mom put all sorts of crap on my hands–I too was able to eat it all. She gave me a lovely yellow pretzel teething ring at about 9 years old (or so) to give me something else to chew on. But I just chewed my fingers and the teething ring at the same time.

And growing up I found many other outlets–Barbies weren’t sacred. I chewed the feet and when they were gone I chewed their arms. And when my Barbies cried mercy, I turned to my sister’s. It really was an ugly, ugly thing. My first Barbie, Ballerina Barbie, at age three was my original victim. I ate anything I could and then I didn’t get another one for like two years. Very few of them came out of childhood unscathed. I gnawed on towels, plastics, wood, and as a baby something else. And this is the funniest part of all.

My mother’s story involved me as a cribbed infant/toddler. The discussion all began because of a woman on TLC’s Clean Sweep who couldn’t get rid of her children’s crib. My mom piped up and said that she didn’t have any issue because I chewed on mine. That’s right. In addition to eating plastic, fabric, and nails I also ate wood. She called me a little beaver and said that I chewed on the horizontal and vertical parts of the crib. She never could figure out how I got to the vertical slats. I can’t imagine why. It’s not like I ever had buck teeth. And before you blame it one a teething baby, I want to just say that my teeth were (clearly) well planted by the time I got to gnawing on the crib.

Anyway, I told her that should have been a clue that I would have this affliction for my entire life. She said it wasn’t a clue and that she just painted the crib and gave it to my little sister when she arrived—and unlike the woman on Clean Sweep was more than happy to get rid of the baby-gnawed furniture.

I’m so humored by this whole thing. Especially considering the woman I’ve become–one that still bites her nails (although fortunately hasn’t been able to readily reach her toenails for years). I look down at my hands an am fine with what I see. Heck, it makes working on computers quite a lot easier than if I had nails. And believe me I know all about having nails—I’ve had acrylics probably half a dozen occasions for a total of maybe two years and have managed to chew those off. And I stopped getting nails because I couldn’t imagine all the chemicals that go into an acrylic nail could possibly be good for me.

So basically if your child eats their crib, Barbies, and towels (not to mention countless other “inedible” objects) you better believe they are going to chew their nails. And it may be an ugly habit, but I suppose it’s even uglier to see an adult sucking their thumb.

So there. Stand up and join me.

“My name is Shelly, and I am a nail-biter.”

When I turned five years old I decided I was a big girl. I didn’t think big girls carried around blankets or sucked their thumb. So I stopped–cold turkey and without any apparent reservation. I even gave my grandmother half my special yellow blankie for safe keeping. I suddenly in the passing of just one day grew up.

But not all was well in Shellyland. See, I was without question orally fixated. My mother says that the first moment she saw me, my left thumb (funny considering I’m right handed) was already firmly planted in my mouth. The doctor said I probably sucked the appendage even in utero. I am the worst kind of orally fixated person I guess. It is an inborn habit. I was never even given so much as a fighting chance.

So on my fifth birthday I stopped one habit and picked up another. I started biting my nails. In the past nearly 22 years, I’ve continued on that road. I’ve never been able to stop for more than a few months, and it’s probably been a good seven or so years since I’ve made any real attempt. I’ve just resigned myself to the fact that I can’t stop. And I’m fine with it. I know my hands are ugly–because when I say I bite my nails I also mean that I rarely see even seasoned nailbiters with worse hangnails, cuticles, and the like. Like I said I’m incredibly orally fixated—and catch myself doing it at all moment of the day.

Growing up, I was made to think my behavior was gross and abnormal. My parents bought that polish that tastes like something dead. I got used to it and bit right through it. I wore gloves to bed to try to make myself think I shouldn’t bite my nails. It didn’t work. My mom put all sorts of crap on my hands–I too was able to eat it all. She gave me a lovely yellow pretzel teething ring at about 9 years old (or so) to give me something else to chew on. But I just chewed my fingers and the teething ring at the same time.

And growing up I found many other outlets–Barbies weren’t sacred. I chewed the feet and when they were gone I chewed their arms. And when my Barbies cried mercy, I turned to my sister’s. It really was an ugly, ugly thing. My first Barbie, Ballerina Barbie, at age three was my original victim. I ate anything I could and then I didn’t get another one for like two years. Very few of them came out of childhood unscathed. I gnawed on towels, plastics, wood, and as a baby something else. And this is the funniest part of all.

My mother’s story involved me as a cribbed infant/toddler. The discussion all began because of a woman on TLC’s Clean Sweep who couldn’t get rid of her children’s crib. My mom piped up and said that she didn’t have any issue because I chewed on mine. That’s right. In addition to eating plastic, fabric, and nails I also ate wood. She called me a little beaver and said that I chewed on the horizontal and vertical parts of the crib. She never could figure out how I got to the vertical slats. I can’t imagine why. It’s not like I ever had buck teeth. And before you blame it one a teething baby, I want to just say that my teeth were (clearly) well planted by the time I got to gnawing on the crib.

Anyway, I told her that should have been a clue that I would have this affliction for my entire life. She said it wasn’t a clue and that she just painted the crib and gave it to my little sister when she arrived—and unlike the woman on Clean Sweep was more than happy to get rid of the baby-gnawed furniture.

I’m so humored by this whole thing. Especially considering the woman I’ve become–one that still bites her nails (although fortunately hasn’t been able to readily reach her toenails for years). I look down at my hands an am fine with what I see. Heck, it makes working on computers quite a lot easier than if I had nails. And believe me I know all about having nails—I’ve had acrylics probably half a dozen occasions for a total of maybe two years and have managed to chew those off. And I stopped getting nails because I couldn’t imagine all the chemicals that go into an acrylic nail could possibly be good for me.

So basically if your child eats their crib, Barbies, and towels (not to mention countless other “inedible” objects) you better believe they are going to chew their nails. And it may be an ugly habit, but I suppose it’s even uglier to see an adult sucking their thumb.

So there. Stand up and join me.

“My name is Shelly, and I am a nail-biter.”

You are *NOT* funny, you think you are, but you are
not. You are the person who sits next to
somebody on a long bus or plane rides telling
anectdotes and stories that are interesting
only to you. People find ways to avoid being
trapped with you while you tell stories and
jokes, and you don’t even notice. Stop trying
to be funny, you just aren’t. Not everyone can
be the comedian. Not everyone can be the clown.
You are neither. Your humor isn’t happening.
Move on.

WAIT! THERE IS ONE WAY TO SAVE YOURSELF, GO TO:

How funny are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Stolen from revelling.org who in turn got it from thelovebelow.net. Of course I could have gotten it myself…but I’m lazy.

Step 1: Open your MP3 [CD] player.
Step 2: Put all of your music on random.
Step 3: Write down the first 20 songs it plays, no matter how embarrassing.
Step 4: Profit!

This “mix” is by no means endorsed by sevencagedtigers.com. It’s weird, schitzoid, strange, and absolutely impossible to imagine burned. But with that said, it’s all fun and games….

01. New Order: Fine Time
02. Flaming Lips: Are You A Hypnotist?
03. Pink Floyd: Mother
04. Pink Floyd: Hey You
05. Pulp: Live Bed Show
06. Black Crowes: Bad Luck Blue Eyes Goodbye
07. Pet Shop Boys: It’s A Sin
08. Belle & Sebastian: Beautiful
09. Cult: Revolution
10. Oasis: Hung in a Bad Place
11. U2: In God’s Country
12. Gomez: Tijuana Lady
13. Ben Harper: Forgiven
14. Sterephonics: Step on my Old Size Nines
15. Beck: Sweet Sunshine
16. Duran Duran: Drowning Man
17. Morcheeba: Part of the Process
18. U2: Lemon
19. Soundgarden: The Day I Tried To Live
20. Elvis Costello: (The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes

So. Uh. Yeah.

First off, in honor of an ongoing conversation this weekend, I provide to you two very, very special things as related to Quizno’s commercials. Seriously–if ya’ll haven’t seen these then click. They are the most ridiculous things I’ve ever seen on network television in my 27 years of life. Yes…that includes the seventies and 90210. Click here for Quizno’s and then scroll to the middle of the page and watch the strange dancing…uh…gerbils?

And, uh, I’m Hyde apparently (yes, I do like That 70’s Show):

You’re Hyde!

Which That 70’s Show Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

I just returned from a weekend “up north.” Of course, I must clarify that “up north” in yuppie-speak means that we rented a mansion (seven bedroom, four bathroom) on Lake Michigan. In any case, it was a nice release–three and a half days off of work. What more could a gal want?

I didn’t personally do any skiing. I just didn’t feel like getting cold or wet. But what I did manage is to get drunk two nights and sleep well for all three evenings. Though, I must admit, I wasn’t at all keen on eating all the crap. Chips, chocolate, grease, and soda. Yum, yum. There were twelve of us staying in the house sharing the space and it did overall go very well. In addition to the eating, we played a lot of games–most specifically Sequence but also Sorry.

And if Christina reads this, I just want to mention how much we all LOOOOVED Sorry and Life the card games.

All sarcasm aside, I had a great time. I’ve got an interesting video I’m going to try to put up in the next few days. It’s not long, but it does show this REALLY awesome pair of red moose-print shorts. Really, we all loved ‘em.

Weekend over. Blech.

So yesterday I had my appointment with TLC for evaluation. I figured everything would go perfectly fine and it did! I’m having Custom LASIK on March 5th to correct my yucky vision. After nearly twenty years of wearing glasses and contacts my eyes will be fixed. I can’t wait. I can’t imagine how life will be without the aid of lenses of some type. The price isn’t exactly cheap, but there’s zero question that it is outweighed by the freedom.

I can’t wait to fall asleep without having to take glasses off. I can’t wait to open my eyes under water. I can’t wait to not have to dig my contacts out of my eyes after they’ve dried up and rolled back.

I just can’t wait!

I called my dad and asked if he’d be willing to drive me to and from the surgery. It’s about a 2 hour drive to visit me, but I figured he’d really enjoy it since part of the benefit is actually WATCHING the procedure. He, of course, agreed. I guess I’ll have to treat the old guy (sorry dad…just had to) to a lunch at Mongolian Barbeque.

Two big things today. First is, of course, Valentine’s Day. To be quite honest neither me nor JT is particularly romantic. We both try on occasion–and usually fail miserably. His is a birthright while my lack of romanticism is more just apathy. In any case, Saturday went well. We met with my mother and then visited Grandpa at Alterra. He seems to be doing well and thinks he’s only been there a day…so that’s good. And he has ZERO idea he’s at a “home.” Another good thing (VERY good thing in fact). He seems to be properly medicated for once also. He made jokes and talked quite a bit but was just generally confused. It is so hard to see him like that.

After that visit, we stopped by Wal Mart to get our Clearly American water. Yes, we’re freaks, but this flavored water has made it possible for us to not have soda at home. Anyway, so my husband hops out of the car. I waited like a good girl for the guy with the kids in the minivan next to us to get out before I swung my door open and cracked one in the head. JT kept on walking. He didn’t notice I wasn’t there and locked the door. See…that’s a problem. If I were to try to get out the alarm would go off. So I sat there, and sat there. Maybe only a minute but still…he didn’t notice I wasn’t with him. He apparently got to the front door of Wal Mart before noticing. Nice, eh?

That evening we went to Outback Steakhouse. I’m an easy sell…and it had been a while so it was a nice place to go. Plus I can get a lovely beef filet done just right. Yummmm…. As far as gifts go, well, I gave him a lovely shirt (he didn’t tell me what he wanted so I really couldn’t do any better). He gave me the new hardback volume of The Gunslinger. Very good man, I tell ya.

Second big thing is that I’m getting my eyes fixed. After nearly twenty years of glasses I’ve just up and decided that it’s time for laser eye surgery. I’m not afraid of the procedure or the money. Both are only tiny compared to the ability to see–something which has been a challenge for so long. I’ve made an appointment for this Wednesday for an evaluation. If all goes well (and I suspect it will) then I’ll make an appointment for the actual surgery. WOO HOO!!!! I even told JT that if he agreed to let this happen, I’d cut down on my music buying. He of course asked if that also applied to books–”hell no” was my response.

Fuh-fuh-fuh-FRIDAY!

That’s right. Finally, the last day of the working week is upon me. Unfortunately, these last minutes and hours before I head home are dragging worse than my dog’s itchy bum. Uh. Well. I don’t have a dog, but I’ve got cats. And one of them certainly has an itchy bum.

Anyway, this is FRIDAY THE 13th. MWAHAHAHAHA. Of course, I’m not in the least bit superstitious but I am looking forward to the badly hacked-up USA and Sci-Fi and TBS versions of the film series by the same way. By the way, “hacked up” probably wasn’t the best word choice there. And, if you can’t tell, I’m more than slightly slap happy. It’s been a long week–I’ve worked hard and waking up at 5:15am is getting the best of me.

Last night, I finished reading Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale. It was a scary little book that tells of a future I wish not to live in. A future that seems all too real in this American in which we live. See, in this future America most everything has been banned for being subversive, evil, and just all around icky. People who are different also fall into this same category. In any case, apparently women are just always different because they who are fertile act as “handmaids” to rich families who can’t have kids. Basically, a household would employ (if you can call it that) a bunch of women with which the master would procreate in the hopes of spawning another kid. It really was a bleak, dire, and all around depressing book. But highly recommended of course.

I’m not sure what I’m reading next. Maybe I’ll get to Vernon God Little, one of the books my sister got me for Christmas. Yeah…that sounds good…

Oh…and as an afterthought here’s the new portrait I promised. We look like a coupala dorks, but ’tis the way we look. Plus, I’m wearing red and that’s my signature color.

Censorship.

It’s a mean, ugly word. But even worse is when it is encouraged by those in the world who are in control. Right now, the state of America is such that it wouldn’t suprise me if all the clearly power-hungry, absolutely ignorant, and completely self-serving politicians who lead this formerly fine country elminate what thread of free-speech we have left. People think we are free. We are not. People assume we can say what we choose. We can not.

Boiling just beneath the surface for years, the appearance of a certain starred nipple on network television has ignited the flame of censorship. With this fire burning beneath their collective flatulent asses, the Congress and FCC (who walk hand in hand) are looking at fining all CBS affiliates $1,000,000 for the incident. Fine enough–but when it reignites discussion about the “fuck” Bono uttered a year ago on network television (from which he was cleared, dismissed, etc…) then there’s something wrong. Not just that, but there are other things on the horizon that anger me even more.

The FCC is looking into regulating pay channels like HBO, Showtime, and Cinemax. Keep in mind, that these are not basic cable and that if you buy them (I personally only get the HBO lineup) you know you’re going to get nudity and language and drug use depicted graphically. In fact, you pay EXTRA for it. Heck, if you’ve got SKINemax you are getting soft-core porn. If they turn these channels into, in effect, the Family Channel or Disney I’m going to first cancel and second go on a rampage. And it’s not just because I like HBO–it’s because I’m an adult with the keen ability to make choices and have a free will.

They also say that they want to limit all talk/images/etc… of sexual organs and activities (which is defined as “indecent”) to late night television. Fine enough, but why don’t they while they’re at it eliminate everything that the Bushies deem “bad.” That would mean we wouldn’t have any of those pay stations. We wouldn’t have music stations. We wouldn’t have some shows on Discovery, History, TLC, etc… because they have nudity. We wouldn’t have E! when they are speaking about sex (or drugs or rock n’ roll). Heck, we wouldn’t even have soaps or reality TV or talk shows.

And why stop there, you cretin Bushies? You may as well regulate what music I listen to and what books I read! I mean, the music I listen to tells people that “I want to fuck you like an animal.” Or at least Trent Reznor does. I suppose that too is pornographic and as such should be elminated from American consciousness. And the books! Well, American Psycho probably isn’t exactly family friendly. Nor is most of my man Clive Barker’s fantastic horror. Nor is so much else of what I read. I guess they just want me to stick to (BLECH!) the Left Behind piece o’ poo series.

Gimme a break people. We are adults. And we as adults are charged with the intelligence to switch the television on and off. Afraid of the kids seeing a boob? Well, then don’t breast feed. Oh…and for god’s sake don’t give them a mirror. Not just that if you dont’ like what is on TV there’s nothing in this world that requires you to own one. Destroy your TV and allow me the freedom to choose.

I’m pissed. I’m incredibly pissed. I’m not a religious girl, but I’m going with my Uncle Bob on this one–if there’s a devil in this world then it is Bush.

Why I insist on posting here when I have nothing of merit to say is beyond me…really. Or not. I guess I really like to hear myself speak and/or see myself write. Simple enough.

JT and I had pictures taken of ourselves in late December as part of a family setting at JcPenney’s. My inlaws just got a package and they needed to get the most of their money. So we had a new portrait taken. I’m really very pleased with it (I’ll post it later this week). We look good–plus, we are both wearing my favorite color. Jeremy said they were very “red.” I have to agree but since I love red (which I’m wearing today) I’m not complaining.

My mother called last night. She got a call from the FBI (yes…those FBI) asking for my sister’s contact information (for a good thing, not bad). But they couldn’t take it over the phone. So the guy drove up to BFE Michigan to sit with my mom for ten minutes to get Cheryl’s overseas info. She said she was expecting a black car and maybe a helicopter. He showed up in a Japanese car and a pinstripe suit. I guess that’s what can be termed a very interesting encounter. It’s not often you get to speak with the FBI!

Finally, extremely preliminary plans are being made to sell my grandparents’ cottage/house. This is a very hard thing. You see they’ve had it since the late sixties. We’ve all spent our entire lives there and have very fond memories of the place. Memories of the river as we call it and walking and fall days and snowmobiling. I guess the memories are part of me, but it still sucks that the house is going to be gone. My grandparents built it–they were “homesteaders.” It was their dream. And now it’s going away.

There is a lead on somebody who may want to buy the house. My mom really has no clue how much it’s worth either. She’s like: “I think it will bring in $150,000 or $160,000.” I had to correct her. See, I routinely dream at houses on Realtor.com and have looked up “the river” just as a pipe dream. Needless to say, the fact that they are on the main river, the fact that their house is in old but good shape, the fact that there is a garage/barn, the fact that there is an acre across the road, and the fact that they are situated on a point are all positive things. I told my mom that it will go for well over $200,000. She was floored.

But I think I’m right.

Protector

The ULTIMATE personality test
brought to you by Quizilla

Calm. I am callm. That’s a good thing too…I don’t think I could manage much more stress…

In any case, the Grammy awards were last night. I didn’t watch since JT refused–instead we tuned into (gasp!) America’s Top Model. Seriously…those girls are catty witches. I kind of like watching them complain though. Each of them thinks they are special. Too bad they are only shells of what otherwise could be possibly considered human.

I did catch the occasional (unfortunate usually) Grammy performance. I saw the White Stripes. They rocked. But nasty Christina Aguilera looked like she had a dead cat on her head. It was laugh-out-loud funny. The awards to the White Stripes, Coldplay, OutKast, and Johnny Cash were great. But then the WTF award went to Metallica who won for the horrifically bad song St. Anger. I guess at least Nickleback didn’t win. And then there’s the overated, under original Evanescence. They only won for “Best New Artist.” Of course this is the official “kiss of death” award so I was happy they got it.

In the words of another underimportant group (not band):

“Bye, Bye, Bye.”

My mom said the funeral was heartbreaking. Tehra, the girl, had been engaged to be married to the guy who was driving when the car was hit. By the way, that guy died on Thursday after it became clear he had no mental function left. In any case, Tehra had been engaged and had chosen her wedding gown. She was buried in it.

As my mother told me this, I cried. Though, I suppose, it was the perfect last bit of respect that could be offered her. I’m certain it was her dream dress. There’s nothing more sad or more appropriate. I’m even weeping right now thinking about it.

In a way I think that it’s for the best that the guy who was driving also died. I can’t imagine living with the pain of losing your fiance by way of freak accident. There couldn’t possibly be anything more difficult than to ask yourself over and over and over and over again if you could have done something different.

Anyway, yeah…it’s such a sad thing. I will post her obit when I get an opportunity. I hate when people really bolster a person after death. But, quite honestly, Tehra was always a sweet girl. And nobody at age 21 deserves such a fate.

I’ve been incredibly “out of it” this week. Of course, I began my week off-kilter because of my grandmother dying. And then of course JT started a new job that required us waking up at the obnoxiously early time of 5:15am. Blech. Then Tehra (the girl I babysat) died. Finally, today I have this career fair thingie that has me running all the hell around. I definitely won’t have to ride my bike tonight after all these miles I’ve walked.

Talk about exhausting.

I’m just hoping for a relaxing weekend. I know I always say that, but I need it now more than ever. Maybe I can watch television while wearing my jammies. That would be perfect.

Talk about being jarred awake this lazy Tuesday afternoon. I opened my e-mail version of the Midland Daily News to see the headline:

Being the accident-watcher type I am and knowing that M-18 is indeed part of my home city and county (both with the same name) I clicked. What I found was incredibly sad and shocking. It seems that at about 7:30am this morning a 21-year-old girl was killed in a head on collision.

I know…this happens a lot. But what really shocked and hurt me was that this 21-year old girl was born and raised for many years of her life across the street from the home I was raised in. I babysat her and her two younger sisters. She was a good girl…a really good, sweet girl. From what the article said, she was pronounced dead at the scene.

Like I said, I was jarred awake.

According to President Match, the following presidential candidates are ones I should look to support:

Kucinich 100%
Kerry 96%
Clark 91%
Sharpton 89% (WTF?)
Dean 86%
Edwards 85%
Lieberman 81%

Uh. Yeah. Looks like Kerry, if nominated, will get my vote.

I needed this weekend of nothingness. I needed it to unwind and to calm down and to just basically mentally tune out. Fortunately I got just that. We didn’t do anything at all Friday night–which was an incredibly relief.

On Saturday, we joined JT’s friend Jim and his wife Christina for a trip to the circus food infested Girbraltir Trade Center in Mt. Clemens. It actually wasn’t as bad as Christina had made it out to be–and it wasn’t as large as I’d hoped. But I did manage to spend $23 on books-on-tape and Christmas decorations. I’d have spent more given the proper audience. Like if my family were around I would have bought glass. I like glass. A lot (hence the huge china cabinet which has long since overflowed).

In other news, we’ve FINALLY saved up enough money to buy my dream table and chairs. I guess I could have gone to Pier 1 or World Market and spent like $600…but I figured if I was going to slap down that much moolah I may as well save up $2k and get EXACTLY what I wanted. I’m buying it from the Amish. Handmade oak furniture to order…gotta love it.