I'm an Angry Woman and I Don't Care if You Like Me

*steps onto soapbox* 

Stop reading now if it drives you nuts when I get up here and rant. I'll warn you in advance that I don't give a shit if I get flamed for this because it's my blog and I'm taking it and going home. So there....

I stopped being passionate about things a few years ago because I realized that at the end of the day I didn't accomplish anything and only managed to upset myself. Yes, I recognize this is an apathetic approach to life but it keeps me sane.  To quote my father, the master of the cliche, "Opinions are like assholes, everyone has one and most of the time they stink".  

Indeed.

Here's my problem.  Lately I've acquired this child and the fire burning beneath the surface has reared its ugly head.  See I may have become apathetic about things that impact me, but I have a really hard time being apathetic about things that impact her.  I'm not political or religiously inclined, but I take exception to people who want to control my body or put my health at risk.  So all the usual suspects piss me off - the status of healthcare, the influence of big pharma, the abortion debate and the latest addition to my personal club of hate ...the vaccination drama.

Everybody's gotta point the finger at someone when something bad happens. My husband likes to shit all over Americans for being so litigious. He likes to say things like, "you know, sometimes people just die and that's the way it goes and it doesn't mean you're entitled to turn around and sue the doctor just because they happened to be in proximity".  Actually you are entitled and that's part of the challenge - you are entitled to point the finger whether it's right or wrong.  The right to point the finger is the cornerstone of our society. It levels the playing field - all people rich or poor can fight when they've been legitimately wronged. Legitimately is such a subjective concept.

Yea I know, there's a big old conspiracy out there trying to mislead the sheep.  We shouldn't trust big pharma, be an informed consumer of medical advice, blah blah blah.  I get it. But here's the deal, some people aren't smart enough to to digest and make an informed decision. They are the reason why there are warnings on plastic packing material that tell you that it poses a suffocation hazard.  These people are not smart enough to consume, digest and then choose a course of action.  They are the very same people who don't understand that shit just happens sometimes and it doesn't give you the right to poison the well for everyone else.

Baaa.

So who gets the venom today (aside from all the vaccine haters out there) - Pennsylvania.  They let unvaccinated children mingle with the vaccinated ones. I stab my kid in the legs every few months to build immunity. I can live with the crying and crank ass she becomes because I'm taking one for the team. I know that she's healthier for it and so are the rest of the kids who can't be vaccinated for actual medical reasons.  I'm also taking one for the kids whose parents probably spent too much time with plastic bags over their heads as children because no one told their idiot parents that oxygen deprivation causes brain damage.  Good thing for those warnings these days...

I keep my fingers crossed that my kid makes it through the vaccination schedule without coming into contact with some child of an ill informed fanatic who happens to be carrying something she has yet to be vaccinated against.  In the mean time I will do my part to make sure that she stays well.  

*steps off soapbox*

PS - for anyone who thinks I'm being mean, please know that I refrained from making a comment about Darwinian theory.  Ooops, I guess I didn't.

The Gift that Keeps on Giving

It's Friday night and my other half is somewhere in Germany for wedding festivities.  I on the other hand decided I would stay home so I didn't have to sit on a plane for 8 hours.  Don't feel bad for me, I've done several very exciting things this evening.  I microwaved dinner, I changed the roll of toilet paper, I did laundry, opened mail and I washed my flip flops.  

I'll bet you're asking yourself, "Gee, why would she be washing her flip flops?".  

Good question. I'll explain.

This morning I decided that I needed a pedicure so I went on the hunt for my flip flops.  Of course I have several pair, but only one that I really like.  I found them tied up in a plastic bag tossed in the bottom of my closet.  I thought that was odd until I remembered that my husband had picked them off the back porch of the beach house 2 weeks ago and thrown them in the bag for transport home.

Of course he did some sort of super duper quadruple knot in the plastic bag so that they couldn't possibly leave any dirt in the car.  All good, except for the fact that they were wet when they went into the bag.  

So at lunch time as I was getting ready to go see a daycare I thought I would put on the flip flops to walk the 8 blocks.  That is when I opened the bag and nearly died.  I do not know what happens to foam and nylon when you leave it damp in airtight plastic for 14 days but it was not good.  At first I couldn't comprehend what was creating such an awful stench.  Then I lifted a lone flip flop to my nose and sniffed.  Dear lord in heaven that is nasty.  I threw the whole mess back into the plastic bag, resealed it with several knots and proceeded to take a cab.

Sometimes boys don't think about these things.... 

I would also like to point out that I still need a pedicure.  

Icky Germs

A few things about Monday:
1. It was my husband’s birthday
2. I was stuck in the airport in a futile attempt to get to Manchester, NH
3. I was sick, still
This did not make for fun times.

Aside from all of the miserableness, this trip once again reminded me that not everyone washes their hands after they pee. Airport bathrooms are a special place. Is that really so hard to do – soap, water, scrub? I thought it was common knowledge that bathrooms are dirty and so you should wash up before you leave. This is why there’s probably poo on your keyboard right now. Your co-workers can’t be bothered to wash their hands and so they track poo dirt all over the office and despite the fact that you wash well and use a paper towel to open the door you still end up touching the copier or the coffee maker and BAM – poo dirt.

Thanks people.

Every time I shake someone’s hand I wonder if they’ve washed or not. I guess this is why my mother used to tell me to keep my fingers out of my mouth. And since I watched the movie “Knocked Up” I know that poo dirt also causes conjunctivitis. So while you're at it, keep your fingers out of your eyes too.

I’m also shocked by people that put their handbags on the bathroom floor. I know that luggage is dirty and I accept that and treat it accordingly, but your purse? I sometimes put my bag on my kitchen counter or my bed. As a result, it most certainly doesn’t need to be on the floor of a public bathroom.

It's a bit like those scary news stories about bacteria in hotel rooms. You know some big fat naked guy was sitting in the desk chair but you don't want to think about the poo dirt on your chair or you'll end up with some freakish OCD type complex that forces you carry around Lysol wipes and medical booties for your feet. I'll bet he runs around the room naked wiping snot on all the door handles too.

On second thought, Lysol wipes are pretty easy to transport. Think how nice it would be to wipe everything down.....that's not crazy, right?

Let's Hope Nutter isn't a Crackhead

Yesterday I walked into the bathroom in Suburban Station and I could hear someone talking inside a stall.

Voice: “I just need some peace and quiet and a bathroom”
Me (inside my head): “Please don’t let this woman be talking to me”
Voice: “Just count to 10 and relax”
Me (inside my head): “What in the hell is this crazy person talking about”
Voice: “Don’t you be passing judgment on me, you could be in my situation tomorrow”
Me (inside my head): “Dear lord, this crazy woman is reading my mind…pee faster!”

A hasty hand wash and dry later (yes, I was traumatized by the lack of proper sanitizing resources, but at least there wasn’t a door to touch on the way out) I was out the door to tell my husband. He confirmed there was also a crazy dude in the men’s room. May I ask just one question? (Ok, maybe it’s the start of several probing questions, but who’s counting.) When was the last time you went into Penn Station and heard someone screaming in the stall? Ummm, in my experience, never. Perhaps this is yet another example of why we’ll never be a tourist destination like NYC.

At a minimum it might explain why Philadelphia gets such a bad rap. It has come to my attention that I am hopelessly desensitized. This is especially evident when we have someone visit from out of town. There are several things they notice, in no particular order:
1. It’s dirty
2. Every corner yields a new homeless individual begging for money
3. Our nightly news is horrific to watch (lots of stuff catches fire and people get shot…daily)

Having grown up in the suburbs I had a fairly low radar for dangerous situations. While most parents were giving their kids sound advice like, "Study hard" or "Don't drink too much", my father's advice was "Listen, if you get mugged just give them what they want, it's not worth dying over" and "If someone tries to pull you into a car, die on the street before you let that happen because death will be better than what they're going to do to you." If he was trying to scare me, it worked.

A weird thing happens when you live in the bad lands, you start to notice things. Which corners are dark, alleys that are poorly lit, which way home has foot traffic, the people around you, etc. You also start acting goofy (which I still do and my husband finds amusing) like pulling all personal identification out of your wallet and purse, hiding it in your pockets so if they do mug you, at least they don't know where you live. Separating your keys from your address so they can’t come find you later. Similar in concept to the "mugger money" we used to carry when we would go out drinking in college. Keep $10 bucks in your pocket and the other $40 in your bra. They leave happy with $10 and you have a better cleavage.

I eventually moved into Center City where you don’t have to worry so much about getting jumped on the street for 75 cents. Over the last 14 years I’ve watched it get better and now progressively worse. Thankfully today marks the end of John Street’s eight year tenure as mayor. What a bum. Under his watchful eye we became the city with the highest murder rate. We’re visibly dirtier than we were 8 years ago. He was a target of an FBI investigation and he gave his idiot brother a few million and a job he clearly couldn’t handle.

And to think we made fun of DC for their crackhead mayor, Marion Barry.

I hope this guy Nutter is a good guy. He seems normal and so does his family. He also appears legitimately pissed off about the state of affairs. I feel bad for him, he really has his work cut out for him here.

Good luck man, you’re gonna need it.

Ps – Today my shiny pretty lady got the boot. Poor Alycia. Bye-bye shiny pretty lady.

picture credit: cnn.com

Please, help me change the channel

In my post holiday couch sitting stupor I have discovered a few scary things on TV. Somehow the digital box has ended up on BBC America and I think it might be stuck. It's a bit like a train wreck, I want to look away but I just keep watching. My latest obsession is a show called "How Clean is your House?". The basic principle is exactly what one might think: people with messy, dirty homes go on the show and end up with clean homes. Two ladies called Kim & Aggie run around to these homes wearing fur trimmed rubber gloves (good thing my mother didn't find those for Christmas...) and they hurl insults at the inhabitants to shame them out of their dirty habits. One of the two, I'm not sure which, frequently tells people that she might be sick. They they take swabs from various places in the house to send out to the lab. Oh yea, and everyone has that teary moment at the end where they talk about what a life changing event the cleaning has been. Also, 75% of these people discuss the sole purpose for doing this is to increase their chances of getting laid.

Here are the highlights...

• One woman liked to throw her dirty underpants all over the house. As a result her little swabs showed traces of candida all over the house. NASTY. (I'm sure she'll get plenty of tail after national television broadcasts her little yeast problem.)
• She also had her refrigerator condemned as a biohazard. She was advised that commercial cleaners would never fix what was in there and to just chuck it.
• There was a gentleman who had resorted to eating biscuits and milk in bed because his kitchen was infested with garbage and flies. (Can someone please tell me what the hell is a biscuit? The only kind I know you can find down south smothered in gravy.)
• Then there was the guy who was advised to vacuum his mattress monthly to keep the dust mites down. He was also the same guy who had cobwebs all over his walls.

I also learned some cleaning tips from these two crazy women. Shaving foam is a wonderful cleanser for walls. (who knew?) For those stubborn stains in the toilet - grab some sandpaper (btw, if you need sandpaper in your toilet, you'd better check your ass). I also threw up in my mouth a little throughout most of these shows. This was sort of like torture. Please don't tell me about all the bacteria and fungus that live around me, it's like dumping kerosene on a smoldering fire... I think I need to go clean now. With bleach...

Next up was a little gem called "You Are What You Eat". Another self explanatory title. People eat badly then they get religion. There's this crazy little Scottish woman, Gillian McKeith, who takes the fatties, tracks what they stuff in their mouth for a week (with the help of some friends that are tired of their pal being a big 'ole porker), has them take a dump so she can check out their poo (while hurling insults like: "I can smell your bad poo from outside this door", "I'll bet you leave skid marks in the bowl when you take a poo", and my personal favorite, "a good poo should hit the water while it's still coming out of you") and then she buys them a gym membership. She does all this in a very shrill squealing voice. People are also terrified of her as well which is fun because sometimes she makes them cry.

• One woman broke down in tears when it was explained to her that she was killing her chubby little children with sugar. (duh...) They pulled together how much sugar she was feeding her little rolly polly's in a week - it was so heavy that the kids couldn't even hold the bowls.
• Then there was a big fatty who liked to eat crisps (Again, a little help here, what is a crisp? Do we have those in this country?) - she cried when she cheated and ate crisps. It was a blubbering mess.
• The candy lady was especially freakish. She consumed more candy in a week than I've purchased in 10 Halloweens. - 14 Liters of Diet Soda and not a single ounce of water.
• The guinea pigs in one house ate better than the children

How is it these people are always shocked when someone tells them that it's bad to eat a bunch of crap? Is this revolutionary or are people just stupid?

However the single funniest thing about BBC America is that they run these sort of public service announcement type commercials suggesting you should put on your closed captioning to understand what the hell everyone is saying. This is especially necessary when watching Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares. My husband has begun running around the house yelling "Bollocks!" in a very strange affected English accent. This is second only to his imitation of the Irish guy at work.

Excuse me now. I'm off, it's time for Coupling....

Hitchcock's Birds ain't got Nuttin' on my Birds

We've all been grossed out at one point or another. The guy on the subway who coughs without covering his mouth or the one who wipes his nose with his hand and then grabs the same rail you're clinging to for dear life. People who only rinse in the bathrooms, people who don't wash at all, those same people touching the door handles that you touch. Chewing of pens. The hacking up of phlegm and spitting onto public streets where it gets on my shoes and I bring it back to my house. Oh dear....I think I just threw up a little in my mouth so now I'm going to stop. You get the picture.

Generally speaking I'm opposed to anything antibacterial. This may seem in conflict with my previous rant about people and their germs. If I were a real anti-antibacterial woman I would belly up to the dirty people and relish the opportunity to strengthen my immune system. I just can't do it, I'm too grossed out. So while I don't go out of my way to come into contact with bacteria and viruses, I also don't try to scrub every last bit away.

This is actually harder than it sounds. Have you ever tried to find non anti-bacterial hand soap? There's all of one option in the liquid hand soap variety. Every single cleaning product has started throwing in a little antibacterial somethin', somethin' for good measure. Another good reason to go natural. My husband carries those little antibacterial disinfectants with him when we travel. It must be a doctor thing - something about hospital germs and carrying illness from one patient to the next. As much as I like to make fun of him for this peculiar habit, it has come in handy more than once. As a result of incidents like those listed below I've relaxed the ban while traveling.

No soap in the airplane bathroom? No problem!
Big fat dude next to you just sneezed all over himself and then proceeded to touch everything around you? No problem!
A scary bum spits a half eaten gummy bear in your hair on the street in Chicago and then runs after you and throws her dirty shoe at you? No problem! (100% true, you just can't make this stuff up)

So now you understand that I'm sort of a germ-a-phobe at war with myself. My latest activity on the home front is to wage war against my neighbor two floors up. Not necessarily the person per se, but their bird feeders. This person has a collection of illegal (per our apartment bylaws) feeders that swing wildly from their illegal window boxes. For the life of me I can't figure out what pleasure they even derive from these since they hang below the balcony. We're now knee deep in discarded seeds and fallen feed on our balcony. As a result we now have a bird party on our balcony every day. The bird crap on our railing is threatening to take over and it's starting to pile up on the cement floor as well.

Hey! Don't let me hear any crying! These aren't cute little song birds, they're huge flying rat like pigeons. It's a damn infestation!

So my husband, being the helpful person that he is, happened to mention a while back all the nasty illnesses you can get from pigeon feces. I now imagine dried poop particles flaking off and flying into my nose, leaving me for dead. Think I'm kidding? Try one of these beauties on for size:

Cryptococcosis - causes acne like ulcers on the skin (bad rash? I think NOT)
Histoplasmosis - flu like symptoms, fever, death and in some cases blindness (at least 2 out of 4 don't cause permanent damage - right?)
Toxoplasmosis - central nervous system damage

and my personal favorite.....

Ornithosis - fever, chills, fatigue, a rash and lung problems such as shortness of breath and a cough. It can also lead to rales, which are small clicking, bubbling sounds coming from a portion of the lung.

Clicking sounds from a portion of my lung? Are we living in a 3rd world country?? Next thing you know the kids in the building will be kicking around a dead chicken in the courtyard and we'll all die from Bird Flu.

I have no idea who lives two floors up. With my luck it's probably an old woman whose only joy in life is waiting for the birds every day. You know what? I don't care. I can live with stealing her joy, I can't deal with the birds. Curiously though, I'm starting to sense that the birds have started exacting their revenge. Today as I was walking home from work, a bird took a big crap on me and missed my head by about 1/2 an inch. It landed squarely on my scarf, dangerously close to my mouth. Perhaps that was just a warning strike.

"Hey lady, there's more where that came from, back off the old broad who feeds us!"

All I have to say is, "BRING IT ON you diseased flying rats". I'm bigger and I can kick you with my impossibly pointy not-so-practical shoes.