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Erm...

Being a collage artist and a lover of vintage and retro ephemera I've seen lots of old Lysol ads claiming to do a lot of things but I had to rub my eyes when I read this one...

Hat tip to Weirdomatic

Ironic

So, I'm reading my RSS feeds and keeping an eye on "Sicko" (Micheal Moore propaganda about how awful US healthcare is), hearing about how wonderful Britain's NHS medical system is when I click on Seahorse's blog and read:

"I thought I'd leave it a week or so before posting about my new NHS wheelchair. You know, the one that took three years getting to me".

Don't Screw It Up For The Rest Of Us

Well, it's the beginning of a new year and I've been choosing among my thoughts before posting. Prudence.

Many of the blogs I read are written by moms. Moms of small children, moms of bigger children; moms who write; moms who make things; moms with disabilities and chronic conditions and moms who just love being moms. I also follow some of the same moms I read on Twitter and Facebook and other social media sites. Sometimes I follow their comments personally, sometimes I just look for their comments in a public feed. I'll be honest- I pay little attention to the moms who espouse rainbows and unicorns about their children and lives all the time. It simply can't be "Father Knows Best" all the time. If it is, it's bullshit and I stop paying attention. Some of my favorites are So Anyway, Plain Jane, I, Asshole,  Dooce, Not Afraid To Use It, and Spin Me I Pulsate.

I've done my share of mothering and giving birth to ideas and works of art but It's hardly a secret that I am not a mother to a human child. I made that choice years ago and I don't regret it. My thoughts on having children were,-"Well if I get knocked up, I get knocked up"- hardly a glowing endorsement of my aspirations about motherhood.

I have this weird idea about motherhood- in order to be a good mom you have to really want to do it. You have to want the Baby Borg to assimilate your whole life and be willing to do what it takes to allow it to happen. I didn't want to do that for reasons which would be better explained in another post. The decision to be a parent shouldn't rest entirely on an "Oh well, it happened, guess I'll do it" frame of mind and if it does, maybe it needs to be rethought.

Okay, so Sunday evening I am keeping an eye on the public Twitter feed and see a humorous tweet which made me laugh and feel for the mother at the same time: the kid wouldn't go to sleep, mom was tired and frustrated and wondered if smothering was a crime if the kid refused to go to sleep. This made me laugh in the same way Dooce's new memoir about the pregnancy and birth of her first kidlet is aptly titled "It Sucked and Then I Cried: How I Had a Baby, a Breakdown and a Much Needed Margarita".

However what was not so funny was seeing Eden post this Friday morning to which I commented:

 "Okay. I'll weigh in on this one. And I'll blog about it too, I think. I followed Thordora on Twitter on the public feed and now I can't follow her at all because I wasn't on her Twitter feed because she has rightly protected her updates. Snooze you lose.

I saw that tweet and while it made me laugh, I also understood Thordora's frustration. I DID... NOT assume she was going to do something ugly to her kid. If I had thought it, I would have asked her if she was ok. From reading her blog, Thordora I know she isn't off her nut and is probably more hyper-aware of such things than those of us who don't live with her challenges.

The thing to do is ASK and then call if you still have concerns. OF COURSE, I understand the old addages 'Better safe than sorry" and "to err on the side of caution" but really... it never hurts to think before you act."

Upon thinking about it some more, I landed on the friends I have who live with Bi-polar disorder. They are way more aware of their surroundings and their emotional well-being than even I am, living with chronic depression. It was and is obvious to me that Thordora is taking care of herself and looking after her life.  I know what BPD looks like when it's not medicated. It's ugly and frustrating and makes me want to smother something.

Quite naturally, I wanted to see just who this sterling epitome of motherhood was- this dumbass who would call the cops before asking Thordora if she was was joking or what. In my two decades on the Internet, I've never run in to anyone who was asking for help that didn't at least talk about whatever it was that was bugging them.  That doesn't mean it doesn't happen. It means I haven't run into it and only have my own experience to draw from.

Titless Wonder Tara aka- feelslikehome feels like nothing I want to read about. From looking at her, I'd venture to say she has issues of her own that should keep her from judging someone else's situation from a tweet but I don't know her, haven't read her (and won't) so I'll shut my bazoo on that score. However,  I guess if I was interested how to make babyfood or Banana Sour Cream Cake and posts about tired, overrated "organization gurus", I'd be in Cleaver Heaven. Y-A-W-N.

If these are the kind of followers Thordora had, she's better off without them.

Add me to your Twitter followers, Thordora.  I know I was pokey about adding you to my Twitter list. I've already been following your blog for awhile now and enjoyed your tweets. Don't make me suffer because a few dumbasses showed their big red money butts.

Image credit: SocialMedia

Also see: The Moon is Down, Salted Lithium,

Automaker CEOs Can't Travel First Class?

Anyone else find this, uhm...preposterous, idiotic, even insulting?  Maybe just a little?

If you are going to come to Washington to plead for public $25 billion public dollars maybe you could sell the private jets first? Or at least not use them on your begging junket?

Rick Wagoner, CEO of GM, stated that GM wanted to continue providing services to America as they always have but that doing it "alone" wasn't something they could continue to do.

Hmmm... does that mean we also get to use GM's fleet of private jets?       

"The CEOs of the big three automakers flew to the nation's capital yesterday in private luxurious jets to make their case to Washington that the auto industry is running out of cash and needs $25 billion in taxpayer money to avoid bankruptcy.

The CEOs of GM, Ford and Chrysler may have told Congress that they will likely go out of business without a bailout yet that has not stopped them from traveling in style, not even First Class is good enough.

All three CEOs -- Rick Wagoner of GM, Alan Mulally of Ford, and Robert Nardelli of Chrysler -- exercised their perks Tuesday by flying in corporate jets to DC. Wagoner flew in GM's $36 million luxury aircraft to tell members of Congress that the company is burning through cash, asking for $10-12 billion for GM alone."

Read the read of the article and see the news piece Big Three CEOs Flew Private Jets to Plead for Public Funds here, if you think you can stomach it.

Two Hineyholes in a Hummer

In order to use disabled parking legally you need to have plates with the logo or hang your placard in the front window. As someone who needs to use disabled parking, I see perfectly able-bodied people use these spots all the time and more and more they are getting brazen about it. No embarrassment, no guilt when they are caught.

There are those people who have a disability and take advantage of it. These are the ones who park in front of entrances and no parking zones or even in the loading area of an already filled spot, hanging the placard in the window as though it is some sort of acceptable excuse for deliberate inconsiderateness.

KInda like the lady who parked a huge duel-axis pickup 3 feet away from the entrance at the hardware store a few weeks ago. She told me I was rude because I muttered under breath, 'Some people don't have to use parking spots'.  She was was talking to someone on her cell phone and interrupted her conversation to tell me I was rude. She pointed to her placard ferociously and said she was disabled and was picking something up. She toid me I didn't need to be so rude and ruin her day.

I would agree. You must be far more disabled than you look.

And there are those who have a placard and either refuse or don't display it properly and expect people to simply know they have one.

It's been happening so much that all I can do when I see it is mutter under my breath or or shake my head.

So yesterday, we stopped off at our neighborhood Walgreen's. I noticed a brand new, spit-polished and detailed Hummer, shiny clean rims and all. I looked at the plates, no logo. As we pulled into the other disabled spot, we both looked past the passenger on the cell phone to the rear view mirror. No placard.  As I got out of our truck, I looked back over at the truck and shook my head as I walked into the store.

Once I got to the pharmacy, I was treated to an unhappy man yelling at the Pharmacy Tech. He called the kid a jerk and was a complete hineyhole.  Why?  Because he couldn't read his own prescription bottle right. He insisted the expiration date was 11/31/08 and he insisted the tech look at it. "Sir, I see 10/31/08 not 11/31/08".

Uhhh... DOOD... there is no 11/31/08, even in a leap year.

So after Mr. Hineyhole finishes his tirade and tells the techit was his responsibility to let him know when his prescription  expires, I did my business and made my way out of the store, several feet behind Mr. Hineyhole.

Guess which vehicle Mr. Hineyhole got into?  Yep. The Hummer.

As I walked over the truck and was getting in, Mrs. Hineyhole had some words for ME.

"Maybe next time I'll take my autistic son in there and you can shake your head at him!".

Well, if he's as big a hineyhole as you and your husband I just might, CHICK.

"Huh?" is  what Manthing asked me as I was getting the truck. When I explained to him what it was all about, he told me they had a placard on the dash, not hanging in the window.

The times I have forgotten to hang the placard, I expect people to look at me weird or at the very least shake their heads a what a hineyhole I appear to be. They don't know I forgot. I certainly don't cop an attitude and hang out of a car window yelling like a fish wife at a total stranger because they shook their head at my vehicle

So here are a few tips to follow if you are ad disabled parker:

If you have a placard use it. 

If you don't, don't park there.

If it says 'NO PARKING', don't park there.

Don't get ugly because other people can't see the placard you refuse to hang or you think you can park anywhere because are disabled.

And don't use your kid as your weapon...for anything.

Just cause YOUR KID is autistic, doesn't give YOU special privileges.

AND

If you mutter under your breath, make sure you do it quietly.  ;)

What About Free Speech & Responsibility?

Okay, people. Can we please ease up on the political correctness here?

First, there was the outcry this week over Don Imus again:

I noticed it this week only because hearing about it vaguely annoyed me. But I was pre-occupied with more pressing matters so I didn't linger on it.

This morning, I checked my morning e-mail and found an e-mail asking me to sign a petition to let Kathy Lee Gifford her latest dumb ass crap had pissed off a bunch of pagans.

Oy Vai.

Here's what Kathy Lee Gifford did and said:

Now, because I identify as a pagan, I am automatically supposed to get my bloomers bunched up over this?

FIRST:  I say bullshit. So you don't like what Kathy Lee Gifford said. Big deal. That doesn't mean you get to shut her up. Sorry. You can bitch about she said. You can start petitions to make her apologize for what she says. But that doesn't mean she will shut up or her employers will censor her or force her to apologize.

Last time I checked, I live in America and you know what? I can say whatever the hell I want about anyone I want because we have a little thing here called Free Speech. I may not like what people say but they have the right to say them without fear of losing their jobs or harassment or censorship.

SECOND: So Kathy Lee referred to pagans as "bad and nasty". Does anyone in this country not know what an ignorant, vapid, dunder-headed ancient bag of dusty wind Kathy Lee Gifford actually is? Hello? Is KATHY LEE GIFFORD'S  uneducated, narrow-minded stupid ass OPINION really that big of a deal?

THIRD: As a pagan-type person, I want to  know who the bad guys are.  I want to know who doesn't like me. I don't want them hiding off in the shadows making idiotic, insipid dumbass comments where I can't see or hear them.  I want them front and center for all the world to see.

"Well", said someone today as we were discussing this, "with that logic I guess it would be fine with you if a pedophile moved into your neighborhood because they have a right to live, right?"

Would I be "fine" with it? No. I wouldn't care to have a pedo in my neighborhood, especially if I had kids. BUT, the pedo has a right to live anywhere he wants as long as he follows the rules, goes to therapy AND DOESN'T DO ANY KID TOUCHING OR RAPING OF ANY KIND. We live in a free society and because it's free, all kinds of people get to live wherever they want.

What about what happened to that guy in California, recently? He only said he was obsessed with kids and thought about touching them and they ran him out of the fucking state. True enough, he was wacko- certifiable. True enough, he got put in the pokey because he wouldn't keep away from the grade school after the court order forbid him to be within 400 yards or something of it. But chasing him out of his home because of what he might do? That was wrong. Better safe than sorry you might think but I think we tread on dangerous ground when we begin participating in mob mentality. Very dangerous ground.

So I may not like it and it may worry me but the pedo still has the right to live wherever he wants to live. Once he violates the rules and touches ANY kid, I'll sign every damn petition that comes down the pike and do whatever I can to get him and keep him out of my neighborhood. Get the fuck out and don't come back. Have a terrific, incarcerated life, you piece of shit rat bastard.

"You'd feel differently if you had kids. You'd want to know your kids are safe".

Uhm, wouldn't that be my responsibility? As a parent it'd be up to me to protect my kid, right? I'll tell you, I'd have ZERO FUCKING PROBLEM telling my kid:

"See that person who lives in the green house on the corner"?

"Yes, Mommy."

"Well, stay way from them. You have my permission to ignore that person. You don't have to say hello or be polite to them. If they touch you or come near you, scream your head off and run away from them as fast as you can. That's a bad, sick person and they hurt children so stay away from them".

And if they didn't stay away from the weirdo on the corner, we'd be having some chats and some grounding going on at my house.  Sometimes, a little healthy fear is good for a kid.

So, do I like what Don Imus or Kathy Lee said? Not particularly. I also consider the source. Kathy Lee Gifford is an ignorant sack of aging wind and Don Imus is a dinosaur. I'd tell my kid to run away from them screaming too.

What about you?

More Dear Doctor Fun

Well, just to show me... Dear Doctor's office returned my call about 4PM.

I still did not speak to the doctor directly.

NURSE 1: I got a message here that you called Dear Doctor for a referral for a new doctor?

ME: Yes.

NURSE 1: Well, Dear Doctor cannot automatically refer you to a new doctor. Can you SEND US A LIST (emphasis mine) of the physicians in your network and if he knows any of them, he will be happy to recommend them.

ME: I need to provide you with a list? Are you telling me Dear Doctor doesn't have the name of a doctor who can provide me with the level of care he can without looking at a list *I* send him?

NURSE 1:  Yes.

Motherfucker. I even have to provide a name for my own fucking recommendation.

ME: Well, you know, I really don't think I care to go to all the trouble to do that. You guys have already inconvenienced and insulted my intelligence enough for one day. But, perhaps he knows of the new physician I intend to visit. Her name is Hopefully Competent, MD and she works of the Hospital Dear Doctor left to be a part of your retarded three-ring circus family practice.

NURSE 1: Well, I'll pass this information on to Dear Doctor and give you a jingle back.

ME: I'll wait with baited breath.

About 10 minutes later, another nurse from Dear Doctor's office called me.

NURSE 2: This is Perky Unhelpful Nurse 2 at Dear Doctor's office.  Unfortunately, Dear Doctor doesn't know Hopefully Competent MD.

What a fucking surprise.

NURSE 2: I am sorry this has happened. Unfortunately this does happen sometimes when you switch insurance. My husband had to go through this very thing last year so I know it is devastating.

Uh, hello ? You fuckers STILL aren't listening to me and if it's so "devastating" why the fuck do you do it?

ME: Wait a minute! Just hold it! this has nothing to do with MY insurance company.  My insurance company called YOUR business office and wanted to make it so I could continue to see Dear Doctor.  YOUR BUSINESS OFFICE has refused to accept my insurance. It has ZERO to do with my insurance and everything to do with YOUR business office.

NURSE 2: Oh. So this has to do with our policies and not your insurance?

"CLICK" goes the lightbulb.

ME: That would be correct.

(long pause)

NURSE 2: Oh. Well. I'm very sorry we cannot help you.

ME: Well, a few hours ago I might agree with you. But I don't now because even if Jesus came down and visited your business office and made them see the light, I would still need to take a big pass on ever being treated in that office again.

What is too bad is that Dear Doctor is a good doctor and I was very pleased with  his medical expertise and attention; it's your business office that sucks big time. I have had to see a lot of doctors in the last 10 years regarding my spinal cord injury and I have NEVER been treated so poorly or not been allowed to speak with to my doctor when I specifically asked to do so. And as long as Dear Doctor is hooked up with your outfit, I'll seek medical treatment elsewhere. I have enough going on without being treated like an inconvenient commodity.

(long pause)

NURSE 2: Well, I wish we could help but apparently we can't. Oh and the doctor says your prescriptions will need to be refilled by your new physician.

No surprise there, either.

ME: I figured as much.

And that was the end of that.

So, once I have calmed down enough to write a decent letter, I will once again write to Dear Doctor because I am not at all sure he ever received the first one. And to make sure he will receive it, Manthing said he will have a chat with him at his next appointment and hand deliver a copy of the letter to him, in case Dear Doctor never receives the second one.

Because as Eden has pointed out in the past, there's a chance he doesn't know what is going on. Still, it seems to me that he'd want to make it his business to know. I'll post a copy here once it's done.

Is There A "Miniweeiner" In The House?

This arrived in our snail mailbox recently.*

I think I shall return it marked "Return to sender. No Miniweeiners at this address".

See what happens when you whine about your boring life? You get junk mail for Thom Miniweeiner.

And we don't even have a deck here...

 

*As usual, click on the image to see a larger version.

Can you believe it?

I had just about gotten over pneumonia and boom... coughing, sneezing and snorting. AGAIN.

I have cold or a sinus infection or some kind of upper respiratory gunk.

Well, at least I am not wheezing and hacking up a lung.

I am so over this.

P.S. There's an entry over on my writing blog about creativity and time. Let me know what you think, if you get a moment!

The Receptionist

My appointment was for 11:45 AM.

I arrived at 11:25 AM.

I signed in as usual and confirmed with the receptionist that my insurance had not changed since my last visit.

I sat down in the waiting room smack in front of the door to the Inner Sanctum at 11:27 AM.

I called up a recent Keith & Girl Show on my Zen ( since being ill I'm a bit behind on my listening) and watched people filter in a filter out as I listened to Keith and Chemda talk about Celebrity Rehab.

At 12:05 PM, I hit hit the pause button, got up, went to the front desk and asked the receptionist if she would please find out how late my doctor was running.

"What time was your appointment?", she asked as she glanced at the clock.

"11:45".

"Well, it's only 12:06. As soon as they have a room free, I'm sure they will come and get you".

"But that isn't what I asked you. I asked you to please find out how late he is running", I replied as patiently and carefully as I could.

" I answered you, M'AAM. As soon as they have a room available someone will call you".

I stood there and just looked at her a minute and said, "You don't get it", from behind my raised my eyebrow.

I have no idea if she responded in any way because I had turned my back on her and returned to my seat.

I touched the "play" button on my Zen and sat watching her as she worked, like a little bug behind glass, noticing her over-processed blonde hair needed a touch up under the cheap plastic headband she wore and stuck out like straw from a scarecrow's hat. Her eyebrows weren't just tweezed pencil thin but shaved; rearranged and arched unnaturally with a pencil on her forehead. She was concentration camp thin and her red lipstick made her look vampiric.

This silent scrutiny must have made her extremely uncomfortable because a few minutes later after a few furtive  sideways glances at me through the glass, she opened the window and said: "I'm sure it won't be long."

I remained unmoved. Only a slight nod of my head  interrupted my steady gaze in her direction.

This clearly irritated her.

At 12:20 PM, my name was called and I went in to see the doctor.

My doctor doesn't act like my time is less valuable than his. Neither do his nurses.

I wondered why then, his front desk staff would behave differently. Because honestly, I don't give a shit whether you actually feel that way or not. All you have to do in a situation like this is pretend that you do. You don't even have to be happy about it.

But I called the office manager when I got home to discuss my  reception experience and was told that:

"Our receptionists would never get their work done if they called the nurse's station every time a patient wanted to know how late the doctor was running".

"Uh, isn't that part of their job description?"

"The physicians in this practice hired me to run the office as I see fit.  They trust me to keep things moving".

"But that isn't what I asked you...nevermind. Maybe there will be a new office manager  next time I need to see my doctor".

One can only hope, eh?