Suburban Bliss:: Birth Control Via The Written Word

Credit card companies can kiss my ass

Let's see this application is pieced together with scotch tape. Hey great! Here's $5,000!

Grrrrrrrr................

The universe: reacting to trolls with philosophy.

Sometimes I'm just stunned by the universe when things like this happen. This is the fortune Logan got in his fortune cookie last night at his weekly pool league.

Yes, I realize there are women at the pool league. Not to worry I strapped my Man Saving Panties around his head to protect him. He's mine ladies....all. mine. And I am grateful he even came home after wards.

Hey! I thought I was over it but I'm not.

The ironic thing is, Logan is never uncertain about his beauty, he never stops beholding it. But then there's me drowning in self-loathing and doubt and I can't get a fortune cookie like that to save my f-ing life. Life is funny.

I've decided the Internet is having it's period and that is why it's being so bitchy. I was actually sort of surprised at how long the Internet has been kind to me. But then again, the first comment Bethany left about not leaving my husband while I go on vacation because he'd cheat on me, I didn't take as a slam but then it was! Duh!

Look how numb I am to your hatred PMS Internet. I don't even notice anymore when you're slamming me. The part where you said, "Your kids will be happy you're gone." Nice touch I didn't even register until you called me ugly. Woooo! Try some Midol and maybe Yasmin birth control because I hear that's good for PMS.

But I was wondering when the hatred would flare up because a lot of nice things are happening to me. But then when bad things are happening I get shitty comments about gratitude and etc. So hey! I guess I just have to not care anymore.

In California Heather revealed her biggest trick for dealing with the hatred which inevitably comes with writing on the internet. "Ignore and then? Ignore some more."

When she said that I was thinking, "You know, I've really started to get the hang of that." Which was a lie. I don't have the hang of it at all.

But you see the crappiness is not just happening to me. It's also happening to Very Mom. And Amalah's gotten an earful about a particular dress (but don't talk about it....she's over it and you should be too) and her decision to work outside the home.

So my theory holds up. The Internet is having it's period and soon all the raging hormones will stabilize and we'll all get along. Until I go to Amsterdam (the 23rd...we're not all going at the same time...though that would be really funny. A bus tour of nerds!) and then some of the Internet will be jealous, and when some people get jealous they don't understand that feeling and are uncomfortable with it. So they make that emotion about something else and they lash out in hateful ways to make other people feel badly.

On a related note: I've realized how I can't write about celebrities anymore at Flogging Baby. Last week I wrote about Britney's rumored next pregnancy and then yesterday I had to write about the car seat debacle. I've been making an effort not to be judgmental about the celebrities, to not say much because we don't know them. We know them even less than people know bloggers and I know how much it hurts when people say shitty things to me. Even still, the vitriol, hatred and judgements hurled at Britney, Katie and Angelina by the commenters on those posts...it's stomach turning.

Whenever I write about a hot celebrity my email fills with these words and also, I think, bad karma.

The problem is, let's be straight here, Blogging Baby is a blog which is based on good writing and interesting links and news but also as much based on traffic.  But Suburban Bliss is just mine. Traffic is of course something a personal blogger loves...but I loved writing this site when I had 8 people reading it.

You'll note the celebrity and gossip blogs have insane traffic and amazing ad revenue, because people love it. They eat it up like a big fat buttery biscuit. So, it just is a necessary evil at Blogging Baby.

But I think my karma is paying the price for writing pieces which put celebrities up for ridicule and hatred. Perhaps the universe is trying to teach me a lesson for letting people leave comments like this:

"I feel for little Sean. I can't imagine what his life will be like."

Because people have said something to that effect to me on this website.

"Um, wow if she actually is pregnant... her hubby acting the way he does, and she's stupid enough to have another one of his offspring?"

Ouch. I wince.

I won't even go into the Angelina/Brad debacles. Oh the rage the general public unleashes on celebrites who cheat (because you know, regular people never have affairs and start over with new lovers)...I've got a lot of shitty comments coming my way if that comment thread is any indication.

When you look at it that way, that I'm putting out even more opportunities for people to spew hatred and judgements at people in the world, perhaps I don't deserve to expect to be treated any differently in my own public forum.

So no more celebrity news other than birth and pregnancy announcments. And I will defer to the rest of the writers to report Katie Holme's delivery or Angelina's because even just a birth announcement sends people into a judgemental and nasty froth.

And my karma inbox is full.

The Bend Over Basement*

The ceiling in our basement is very very low. I am of average height but if I wear the wrong shoes in the basement (meaning anything other than a thin piece of leather strapped to the soles of my feet) I will slam my head into the upper joists and duct work as I make my way to the laundry room. As you can imagine this makes me love laundry more than I already do, which is a lot.

Another thing that makes me love laundry is the fact that the only point of exit into the sewer system of our house is our laundry tub and about once a year the main drain to the street fills with tree roots (don't tell me to cut down the trees, the big old trees are what makes living in this neighborhood marginally worthwhile) and causes the laundry tub to fill with water of disgusting origin and it often over flows onto the floor. Hearing a gentle waterfall in the basement while I'm doing laundy, a water feature if you will, well you can imagine how giddy with Laundry Delight that makes me!

But what makes me fill with even more lightness and joy is when I tell Logan I set up the plumber to come on Monday which is, for everyone following along at home, the day before the 1st which will mark the end of my bad mood...for a few days anyway. Setting up the plumber and losing $100 literally down the drain isn't the part which fills me up in a joyous way. It's when Logan says, from the phone in the office, "Are you sure we need a plumber?"

And while I'm on the phone looking at the floor of the basement covered in water again and the shop vac full of water from the last over flow and the pieces of mixed vegetables from last night's dinner stuck to the sides of the laundry tub I think, "Gosh, I just don't know. Maybe we don't need a plumber!"

I also think my robotic husband was programmed with a very strong denial mechanism.

*When we moved in someone had built a bar in the deepest darkest bowels of the basement. First of all our basement is perhaps the least pleasant place in the entire state of Michigan. Secondly, were these midget bar hoppers? Because to stand at the bar my six foot tall husband had to keep his head bent over. We took to calling it the Bend Over Bar, which maybe it was. Maybe our dark, dank basement was once the hottest gay bar in Royal Oak! Too bad we tore out the original bar. Maybe we should rebuild.

From now on I'm creating constitutional amendments for everything I don't like.

All along in this election I've been hearing the ads for Proposal 2. Stupid ads with scripty type floating across the most heinous and outdated 80's wedding photos.

"A man. A woman. As it should be."

I've had several seizures while watching these commercials. But in the back of my mind I've felt comforted thinking that my state wouldn't buy into this bull shit. But Holy Fucking Shit. They are buying into this bullshit.

When Max covers his eyes he says, "You can't see me mommy!" Because from his perspective I can't see him since he can't see anything.

Sometimes I wonder if I haven't matured past being a self centered 3 year old. I rarely talk politics with anyone. I just assumed everyone around me was on the same page. But they're not and now it's the night before the election and I'm so afraid Proposal 2 is going to pass.

I think Max may very well be gay. And constitutional amendment or not I will not deny him his chance to be Bridezilla. Please vote accordingly. (Also you should know Choppable HATES Proposal 2.)

On To Other Things

Logan's computer has a constitutional amendment denying the existence of USB ports so I can't upload any pictures from my digital camera. (Thank you Apple!). But Logan's office does not have a constitutional amendment banning USB ports at the office so he plugged in there and gave me a few shots from our weekend.

We decided to be a cat and a mouse for a party Saturday night. Logan thought being a mouse was a swell idea until he realized he looked like a mouse and he couldn't be cool dressed in all gray with an adorable little tail and gray and pink ears on his head. Isn't he adorable?

Here we are with Logan's friend Meg. Meg does not have a nose piercing, it was a purloined part of another's costume.
In this picture I noticed how when I smile I completely lose my upper lip so I wondered what it would look like if I had really full collagen lips. Lovely!

Here are Madison and Maxwell moments before vomiting all over the place. Not really, but why do they have to do that when I take their picture?

One year Madison was a monkey. Another year an adorable fat bumble bee. Then a chicken. This year she was everything I hate in a halloween costume. A soul killing confection of polyester and iron ons.

Next year there will be a constitutional amendment banning all costumes I can't stand.

Break It Down.

We have a tv/vcr for the car and we've heard a lot of comments like, "When we were kids there weren't tv's in cars. We actually talked! And sang Kumbaya! It was good enough for me and it's good enough for my kids!"

The thing is, when I was a child we didn't have a tv in the car either. Instead we had an angry father who threatened to 'Give you kids something to cry about in about 10 seconds!' for most of the drive.

We didn't have tvs in our cars back then, but we also didn't wear seat belts because in the 70's seat belts were something the hippies down the street were forced to wear. And 'God damn it, we're not hippies!'

We didn't have a tv in our car, so my brother and I entertained ourselves by putting my little sister on the arm rest in the middle of the back seat. The 'Hump' seat, which she liked because it made her taller and she could see. The exciting part of my sister sitting on the hump seat was the constant threat of her becoming a high speed projectile should we come to an abrupt stop.

Also, I seem to recall a cooler of adult beverages in the front seat.

So of course we didn't need tvs in our cars back then, but things change.

We wear seat belts and we don't place small children strategically for ejection and we don't drink while we drive. When you add all this up....watching a few movies while driving doesn't seem like such a bad thing anymore does it.

I'll admit it's a little sad how my children become brain dead zombies while we drive. But I finished an entire People magazine AND the Ikea catalog on the way home from Chicago yesterday, so can tv in the car really be that bad?

I have more to tell you about my weekend. Most of it involves a church with a band who, in the middle of a song, called out, 'Now we're gonna break it down!' The black hole in my heart where organized religion might have gone grew five sizes that day. Thankfully, no one noticed.

My vision of God and Jesus really doesn't involve breaking it down. Ever.

Anyway, there's more to tell but you know how it is. Remember how I'm really unstable? And how the doctor said it should take 3 weeks for my medication to work? It's been 10 days, so you can imagine how things are.

Break it down....

Designer Socks.

I love Alice. I said I was going to talk about my love of others more in this year of blogging and then I forgot. But Alice was talking about her son's frilly ankle socks and it made me love her even more. The mention of frilly ankle socks also made Max ask me who this Henry is, because we all know how my son feels about frilly ankle socks.

Her story brought to mind the socks Max wears. No, he doesn't wear anklets with lace. He inherited a whole batch of hand-me-down designer socks from an acquaintance. I've always hesitated to write about this particular issue of mine, since it's really nice that someone hands me down her designer socks (and sometimes other clothes), but now I've just decided to go completely crazy and cut all ties with anyone who has been even remotely friendly to me because I'm currently in the drowning throes of depression and why do I need acquaintances?

I don't even have a problem with hand me down socks. I've, somewhere along the way, lost my sense of pride and hand me down socks seem like a great idea to me. One less thing to buy! However, I have a problem with logos on socks. On socks!

Who cares if you have Ralph Lauren socks? This makes as much sense as having a Ralph Lauren toilet plunger. Why would you want to spend good money on something so utilitarian? There's good money to be wasted elsewhere. I mean, I'm good at wasting money and I have never in my life plopped down a premium price on socks.

I may have wanted to. Or at least I may have wanted my mother to when I was 17 and in high school with kids who woke up on their birthday morning to a brand new Land Rover sitting in their driveway.

Maybe some part of me felt that socks would prove to everyone, once and for all, that I too could have a Land Rover if I wanted one but they haven't made a Ralph Lauren one yet and as you can see by my socks, I am very loyal to this brand. In fact, I have a Ralph Lauren plunger in my bathroom. I don't even own a toilet brush because Ralph Lauren hasn't come out with one yet. But when he does....I will be scrubbing my toilet in high style. Until then I guess I'll just make due with my socks and you can have your absolutely generic Land Rover. Ha!

My mother wasn't forking down $15 on a pair of Ralph Lauren socks (not even a bathroom plunger) and so I wore *gasp* generic socks. Now that I'm an adult I just don't see the allure of designer things for no reason other than a little logo on them. I like nice things. I like a stylish purse or a well made frock. But socks? No. A designer sweatshirt? No. A designer toilet brush? Okay well, I'm still tempted on that end.

Max though, inherited 40 pairs of designer socks, all with a blazing logo meant to impress people. The logos fill me with embarrassment and I hope no one will notice and think I actually wasted my hard earned money on socks with a stupid logo on the side.

I'm afraid they'll see me at the grocery store buying generic food and using coupons and they'll say to themselves...."Look at that woman spending all her money on socks to impress people and buying 'Jolly Value Canned Beef' for her family."

Today I was at the post office and a woman was collecting signatures in front.

Max was running from me on the sidewalk and I was watching him (I was!) with one eye and listening to her with my ear...it's my superpower.

The signature collecting woman was very concerned my son was going to throw himself in front of a car or a disgruntled employee (this is the Royal Oak post office after all, Original Home of Workplace Violence) so she watched him while I signed the petition.

This is a true story (I am not even exaggerating for comic effect)! She watched him by talking to him, keeping him engaged so he wouldn't do anything crazy like run into traffic. But her choice of conversation was my worst nightmare come true.

"Hi Max. Hey Max! Are those Polo socks you're wearing! Oh those are nice Polo socks you have there young man! What nice Polo socks you have little man! And I bet that shirt is Polo and those shorts and how about those shoes! Are those Polo shoes Max?"

I was furiously writing my name and address and saying under my breath...'No..just the socks. Just the stupid socks! I know they're absurd, I didn't buy them. I didn't buy them.'

I'm guessing she didn't really care about his brand name socks and she was just trying to make conversation with a three year old that didn't include the words, 'Do you have to go potty now?', because that's all he hears from me anymore.

But I felt a little stupid putting my son's designer sock ensconced feet in our 12 year old car and driving off I was certain I heard the signature lady yelling, "Hey Max! Is that your Polo car? That's a nice Polo car you've got there Max!"

I hate those socks.

So odd.

So I guess the thing is.

You're supposed to ignore people who are addicted to hating you.

I guess posting about them at your site just keeps things brewing for them in some odd way.

My lips are now zipped.

Dirty Words.

Logan's office email has a device meant to prevent potentially offensive emails from being sent through to employees.

I first found out about this scanning program many, many months ago while discussing my husband's recent vasectomy. As I recall, the email said something along the lines of,

"Your poor testicles have been through the wringer."

The email was sent back to me claiming my 'message contained potentially offensive material' and would not be sent to my husband. I was livid. My email response to 'Mr Interscan' was:

"Dear Mr Interscan, If I want to discuss my husband's tortured testicles, I will do so as his lawfully married wife. Thank you."

'Mr Interscan' bounced that message also!

I edited my email, explaining to Logan that his office does not allow anyone to discuss t*e*s*t*i*c*l*e*s. However, because I tested it, 'balls', 'scrot', 'nuts', 'nut sack', 'hairy nutsack' are all okay.

I think Logan got 147 emails that day with the subject line 'Testing', as I tested all potentially offensive words in email to him.

'Vagina' is forbidden, but all other nasty slang words for vagina (I'll let you think of them yourself) are allowed.

'Breast' is forbidden, but all other names pass. 'Penis' is forbidden, but even the most nasty names my dirty little mind could come up with made it through. 'Prostitute' is forbidden...but again all nasty slang for prostitute is gladly patched right through!

Imagine Logan's glee that day when he received a hundred emails with every dirty slang word I could think of.

He was beyond thrilled!

As far as I can tell via my exhaustive research: Logan's agency wants everyone to speak in a crass and dirty manner. Anatomical names are not okay, dirty slang is what they're all about.

I don't get it.

Still Lazy

I've been running lately. It's been 4 weeks of running and still I spend the entire time saying 'inspirational' things to myself like, "THIS SUCKS SO MUCH ASS" or "I feel like I might be dying." or "People do this for 'fun'?"

I'm running 8 to 10 miles a week (don't laugh....I am NOT a runner, this is huge for me) and still, I am lazy.

Yes, it's true. I'm running 4-5 times a week and I'm still lazy. I am lazy because I only want to commit 30 minutes to working out. However, I drink a lot of beer (though I have cut way back....thank you Financial Misery!) and in order to burn the most calories in the shortest amount of time....I must run.

Another Facet Of This Life I Lead: Overpriced 'Lifestyle' Dolls

Last summer we went to Chicago and while there visited American Girl Place. It was a lot like my clearest vision of hell and Madison loved every single minute of it. Which is odd, since she has never shown an interest in dolls. Oh, that's right....merchandising!

Wendy brings us American Girls Gone Wild

That's Service.

We went to dinner with friends on Saturday night but first we stopped at a new eatery in town for a drink. It seemed a lovely place and since it was the first Saturday night they'd been open....they were very attentive.

Three different bartenders tended to my every need. 'How's your beer?' 'Is it good?' 'Too cold?' 'Too warm?' 'How are you?'

I had to draw the line at the full body massage but not before I got a manicure, pedicure and a scalp massage. It seemed they'd simply do anything to make sure my drink was the best I'd ever had in the city of Royal Oak.

Then, as we left 6 different people eagerly said, "Bye! Thanks for coming! Have a nice night!"

A Tour Of The Perplexing

Tonight I started thinking about how I used to wear knickers back in the early 80's, when I was in first and second grade. I remembered them being 'the thing' to wear.

I remembered wearing them but then as I thought about it all some more I realized I must have been dreaming because I couldn't imagine knickers ever being 'the thing' to wear even if you're a golfer, but especially if you're a second grader or even worse, if you're in high school.

But no, it wasn't just a very bad dream, it really happened.

Also recently perplexing, and entirely unrelated, is the fact that prostitution, having sex in exchange for money, is illegal. However, if you have sex in exchange for money but you let people record it and distribute those tapes so that anyone who chooses to can watch the act...then that's legal?

So, in effect, prostitution is fine as long as everyone can watch it? I don't get it.

My...this is unsettling.

Latest Google hit.

Now, now....those who must never be named, but who feel compelled to read my site and monitor my writings, please keep your comments to yourselves.

The Place Time Forgot.

As a child of the 80's I loved roller skating, like, so much! There were two skating rinks nearby, one was in Clawson and only the really trashy people went there. But it was pretty close to my house and my parents preferred driving us 10 minutes rather than 20, so if it was a choice between skating or not, we'd go to the trashy skating place.

But sometimes, if my parents were feeling really generous, they'd drive us to Skate World! Which was, like, the best place to skate if you weren't a trashy Clawson girl. (What a disturbing sense of false pride I had.)

I honestly thought places like Skate World died out a long time ago. I thought there was some sort of War On Relics From The 80's that caused the collapse of all skating rinks.

I realized I was wrong last night when I saw a horrible commercial for Skate World. I swear to God, people live there. I think they haven't left, I think they've been there since 1985 waiting for their favorite song to come on during 'Couples Skate' and they never learned that stirrup pants and feathered hair isn't cool and they've been eating roller rink food for the last 20 years and they still think it's, like, totally cool to skate!

Also, they celebrate their birthdays there at Skate World, so they think they're getting older and they think it's perfectly normal to invite these scary animals to the party.

If anyone ever thinks of inviting Madison to a party with Roller Roo, we're going to have a huge problem on our hands.

is it just me?

Is this disturbing?

If not, you can whip one up and dazzle everyone at your next dinner party.

I am not what you call 'Pet Friendly'

Just when I thought the 'Animal Lover' vibe couldn't get more intense at Monday Night Knitting Class, it got so much more bizarre I almost can't believe what I saw and heard this evening.

You may recall this conversation some nice, but insane, ladies in my knitting class had. It was all about how much they love their pets and how their pets seem to control them with their eyes, those eyes that just get you.....Right. Here.

You know?

My answer is, no. I don't.

Tonight this lady comes in and tells us her cats attacked her. Attacked her. One cat got tangled up in a grocery bag handle and while trying to help dislodge the cat from the tangled mess it freaked out and bit her. Right through her ear. She had a big gaping wound.

During this scene the other cat saw it's opportunity and bit right through the skin of her calf. She claims the second cat was defending the first cat....I know better. They smell weakness. There were marks.

I assumed she must have gotten rid of these homicidal cats.

She looked at me like I was the crazy one. As though I was the one who decided to keep a pair of homicidal cats in my home.

The thought of what those cats did to her, makes me want to set my cats free. Ever since I walked in the door I feel like they're watching me. Waiting for the moment I let my guard down.

There is no fucking way in this lifetime I will keep any animal that turns on me for no good reason.

Granted, someday my children will be teenagers and I won't be able to set them free when they turn on me...but cats? Oh yes, I will.

Uh, oops?

In the last 2 days my search hits have increased by 50%. Someone had suggested that the writing 'playing bongo drums on another woman's ass' was going to get me Google hits.

It wasn't that term that has given me all these hits. Instead it's something I'd never even heard of...until yesterday when I started to wonder why on earth 50 people were landing at my site after searching for 'Sexual Snowblowing'.

You can research for yourself....but it has nothing to do with offering sexual favors in exchange for clearing a sidewalk with a snowblower.

I do still have one question. Why the sudden interest? Was it mentioned on 'Jerry Springer' last week or 'The Real World'? Are people just really bored as winter has set in...looking for new uses for that brand new snowblower they picked up at Sears last week?

I'm confused and just a little bit disturbed.

Look At Those Eyes, They Follow You....

Conversation I heard at knitting last Monday.

I did not participate in this conversation, however I listened intently and politely, not wanting anyone to feel uncomfortable with the fact that I thought they were raving lunatics.

"Does your cat do that thing....you know, where you try to leave the house....and the cat follows you to the door....and you know, you're running late and you really have to get to the office. But the cat is batting at you as if to say, 'Hey, where are you going?'....It's just so hard to walk out when she's acting like that. Don't you just hate leaving when the cat is acting like that? Sometimes I'll just call the office and tell them I'm just going to have to be late."

Here I'm thinking: "No. This has never happened to me and will never happen to me."

But the nicer woman involved in this conversation, actually does get it.

She joins in with: "Oh, yes!!!! I know what you mean. You know my puppy....she is so beautiful. So beautiful!"

At this point she sounds as though she might start weeping with the beauty of the dog.

"You know those eyes, she's a malamute...and those eyes, they get me everytime. They get me Right. Here. [motions to heart] You know? I'm like putty for that dog with those eyes. My grandmother...even my grandmother has fallen in love with those eyes."

Here I'm thinking: "No. I have no idea what you are talking about. I've never 'been gotten' by the eyes of a dog."

But the other animal lover, did know exactly what she meant. I wondered silently if the dog is playing mind games with those eyes...using mind control with those irresistable eyes.

I felt bad, because I am far from an animal lover....very far.

The one lady did say something that I kind of agree with. She thinks animals are a lot nicer than people...in fact, she likes animals more than she really likes people.

I can actually see that, however, I don't really like the general population...and I'm not extraordinarily wild about animals either. I'm screwed.