Alert for California Parents

I hope everyone had a happy holiday. Before you settle in to enjoy the quiet week before the new year, I wanted to bring to everyone's attention some legislation that was slipped out of committee before the CA state legislature went on vacation. California parents may have already suspected that this legislation was in the works but it looks like its headed to a vote in January. Here's the summary:

Bill Number: AB: 1103
Introduced by: Assembly Member Dooley

An Act to Amend section 2003 of the California Family Code, relating to the welfare of children

AB 1103, as introduced, Dooley. Sibling non-proliferation

Existing law provides that parents are entitled to undertake the duties and responsibilities of conceiving and bearing children at a number to be selected by the parties. This bill would enact the “Sibling Non-Proliferation Act”, and its companion legislation, SB 731, the “Birth Order Preservation Act.” These bills codify and authorize the natural tendency of existing offspring to undertake any means to prevent the conception of other offspring, or the practice thereof. This bill is an appropriation, in that it authorizes spending on research and on the acquisition of existing technologies to implement the mandates of AB 1103 and SB 731.

Some of you may not mind this bill; however, the disturbing part of the legislation is that Senator Q. Dooley has managed to get "practice thereof" added to the bill. Hopefully, Schwarzenegger will catch this, as it does apply to him. But Arnold is laid up from a skiing accident and if he's not back to his desk within 30 days of passage, the bill will go into effect. Please call, write or email your state representatives now to object to the Q amendment to this bill! Thanks!

Thanks for Visiting

I was in the mood for another round-up to see what brings y'all to Mock Whiskeyville. It turns out raw bloodlust for The Big Lebowski draws a lot of new readers.

Here are a few recent searches that have brought people to my blog lately:

1. cocaine Hawaii - While not actually a Big Lebowski reference, it might as well be
2. Yeah well, that's just, ya know, like, your opinion, man.
3. sam's bbq montgomery
4. freezer whisky -tape - huh?
5. I see you rolled your way into the pull the trigger till it goes click - They don't exactly nail it, but you get the point.
6. matrix name maker
7. "jen lav" - I think someone might have an admirer, heh?
8. deos mio man
9. lyrics to i said it's either me or the whiskey
10. sam turano blog -I think someone else might have a French admirer, sil vous plait?
11. aporkalypse - Mmm, yummy.
12. for all you haters
13. Marjorie payne file this please - In this case, I think someone is googling herself, don't you think?

So, except for the lovelorn seekers of FOS (Friends of Scobie), I am a little despondent over the "types" I seem to be attracting. Big Lebowski and Matrix fans? Nerd alert! Maybe I should blog endlessly about The Wire (which I not so secretly wish to do), just to attract a minutely broader audience.*

I can feel a New Year's resolution forming. More John Roberts? Cher? Are the masses really clamoring for Jen Lav and Sam Turano? I will give the people what they want. This is a democratic blog.** More on this later, while I mull my topical options for '07.

*I recognize that essentially invites others to stop reading this blog, so I won't do it. I am just admitting the self-control has been difficult to muster.
** Other than the self-restraint w/r/t The Wire, no, it actually isn't democratic. But people love "democracy" so, you know, give the people what they want.

A Brand New Day

Sometimes, in the darkest night, there is nothing to blog about. For example, Monday, December 18, 2006. That was a dark dark night. Take your toaster to Hawaii? What's wrong with you??(The wedding toaster is not going on vacation with us because it caught on fire two years ago, and Brook was never happy with its toasting capabilities anyway. It's been replaced.)

And then sometimes, you wake up and there is a story that offers so many angles that you don't know where to begin. For example, Miss USA Agrees to Rehab to Preserve Reign. Miss USA, aka Tara Reid, oops, I mean Tara Conner, has agreed to go to rehab so that her crown will not be passed along to Miss Photogenic, or whoever. She is going to rehab, despite the fact that, "'I would not say that I am an alcoholic,' she said, though at times, she said, she was unable to resist drinks offered free to her."

Frankly, the headline was more enticing than the Girls-Gone-Wild-but-only-on-Peach-Schnapps-and-Appletinis sense you get from the article. I was hoping she was meth freak or something. The New York Times, in dabbling with trash journalism, are being a bit demure, I think. If you're going to do celebrity gossip, attribute "occasional cocaine use" to a "social friend" of the subject. Make it worth the compromise in your standards, please.

Another thing: If you were going to have an intervention, and you could call one celebrity in to help, would it be Donald Trump? Why is he involved here? And what kind of democracy is the Miss Universe contest if he can fire and hire Miss Universes at his leisure because they're doing a bad job? Maybe if all the prior Miss Universes got together and said, "Oh no, sister, do not tarnish our crown!" I could see that, but what does The Donald have to do with this.

And then there's this sad ass shit:

Ms. Conner thanked Mr. Trump, her family and others, and noted that she had made a recent promotional appearance at a Target store. “I have wanted this
since I was 13 years old,” she said.

No wonder she's hitting the bottle. If her dreams do not even permit her to transcend Target openings, why stay sober? It's better to black out, and not dream at all.

Ruminations

Here are some things I am chewing over - like this stale gummi bear in my mouth - before I go to bed:

1. Do you think that's just a persona that Pauly Shore created, to get attention? And that actually he's a pretty mellow, calm and normal-speaking guy? Is he related to some other famous person?

2. My Christmas tree ornament collection has accrued in spurts. 1978 was a big year, so was 2002. One sub-collection I have is of ornaments made by my "crafting" aunt; you can tell which years she hit the sauce before she made the ornaments. 1992-94 and 1996 are definite in that category. They are all little hearts painted with violets. Why do I continue to place these on the back of the tree, rather than in the garbage?

3. 2002 was the year we got married. Brook joked today that we should take our coffee maker on an anniversary vacation with us next year. What other wedding gifts could I bring with us? Maybe I could try to fit in my wedding dress and then wear it every day of the vacation, like Ms. Haversham on holiday.

4. I really need to go to bed. One of these days, I promise I will read or do something that warrants a post that is not a stew of discombobulated thoughts. Til then....

More of What You Want

The Readers are clamoring for more artisanal marshmallows. What are they? You say. And Why didn't Mr. Scobie even notice them at the wedding?

I'll answer the latter question first: He was too busy waving his hands in the air like he just don't care, is why. It was a regular dance party, people, and you know he has to get his groove on.

I don't have much to say about artisanal marshmallows other than "delish" and that they sort of look like tofu from across the dance floor. But others have weighed in, including CandyBlog, Angry Chicken, and AAA (scroll down). Yeah, that triple A, so they aren't really a big secret, it turns out.

Update

Hey, folks, sorry I haven't blogged in awhile. We were in NYC all weekend and before that, I was in panic attack mode for no discernible reason. Here are some disconnected thoughts from over the past week, in no particular order:

1. There were follow-up suggestions to the placenta question, but I had a reader literally call me on the telephone to tell me, "Stop with the placentas." So you're on your own now, research-wise.

2. Here's something you wouldn't think needs repeating, but I will say it anyway: Just because your fanny pack is made out of a really cute material does not make it acceptable. It's still a fanny pack and you look like an idiot when you wear one.

3. I saw a T-shirt that said Slacker on it that I bet cost about $140, and the guy wearing it has never slacked at anything in his life, I am sure. Except possibly self-criticism.

4. Season 4 of The Wire is over.

5. I went to a wedding this weekend that had artisanal marshmallows at the reception. Who knew? Anyhow, they were "delish" (as is my son, per a woman on the flight home).

The Placenta Q & A

Q: How many placentas are out there, getting freezerburn?
A: Isn't one too many?

Q: No, really, how many?
A: Not sure, but possibly a lot.

Q: What does it "say" about the people that live here that they bring their placentas home but then don't eat them?
A: It "says" that they are either (1) smarter than they initially seem or (2) sheep, willingly following the dumbest hippie advice at its first whisper, and then, when the whisper has been carried off by the wind, ashamed enough only to seek anonymous help.

Q: So what's the advice on dealing with a placenta that's been in a freezer too long?
A: It's a real grab bag of stuff you'd expect and one you might not expect.

Q: Are you stalling because this isn't funny anymore?
A: No, I just want you to savor this. And that's not a pun about eating placenta, although that is one thing you can do with it.

Q: What else can you do with it?
A: You can return it to the hospital. You cannot return it the hospital. You can bury it in the park in the dark (where it may grow into Clark, from One Fish Two Fish). You can bury it at an organic farm, or a friend's house, or at your house. And then plant a tree over it, and have the buyers of your house send you a picture of the tree every few years. You can donate it to a high school science teacher. "Science teachers love that stuff!"

Q: Anything else?
A: Yeah, you can just leave it there and forget what it is and every few months, someone in the family can pull it out and everyone groans and gets grossed out and in it goes again. In this case, you just write sympathetic posts to other placenta-keepers. The only OTHER thing to do with it is write a song about it. That sound would have these lyrics:

yeah babe i just gotta tell ya
wanna eat your placenta
it'll make ya feel like a tiger
and looks like brownschweiger...

Which is the best idea yet.

Thomas Avenue Crime Spree

There have been a rash of thefts from the front yards on our block. APB out on the following items:

1. a metal yard chair from the 50's painted purple, fun & whimsical from a front yard

2. two cement "balls" from a porch

3. bonsai tree from a porch

What is the design aesthetic of this thief? And how do we thank him/her?

Up the street, there's an art school, and I have strong suspicion that someone's fall semester final sculpture project will feature a whimsical purple chair, two cement balls and a bonsai tree.

Ask and I Shall Receive

Just a few minutes after my call for news, I got this email from my fave cuz:

Fake novelist in your 'hood! according to the SFGate, the former JT Leroy is a waitress in Rockridge: "These days, she is out of the literary limelight and back pocketing tips on the night shift at Soi 4, a Thai restaurant in Oakland's Rockridge district." how exciting!

Which incarnation of JT Leroy, though? It's the person who was dressing as JT, not the person writing as JT. Something you can take from this article is that Savannah Knoop is almost as annoying as JT Leroy, which I didn't think was possible.

We get Soi4 take out all the time, and the owner's kid goes to Broccoli Montessori. I am annoyed that I have only 1 degree of separation from this twit.

Help!

I am at that point on my To Do list where everything has been on there for two weeks, or will take more than 10 minutes to complete, and therefore I cannot Do it. SO, I am trolling the internet and my readers for good stories. Here's one. They pulled a naked crackhead out of the jaws of an alligator down in Florida. Begrudgingly, it seems. "He admitted that he'd been smoking crack cocaine. But still, it's a human life," (The sherriff) said at a news conference. "Our deputies don't ask questions, they respond and they save people." That's big of them.

Also, ho hum, Britney Spears is hanging out with Paris Hilton, either cutting in half or doubling the number of disaster-prone moments that Us Weekly can cover.

A Point That Bears Repeating

It's the holiday season, so I just wanted to remind everyone: Do They Know It's Christmas Time? is such a stupid song. I heard an a capella version the other day on the radio (I was trying to change lanes, so I couldn't change the station) and just thought, again, "They may or may not know, but they certainly don't give a shit."

And there won't be snow in Africa this Christmastime
The greatest gift they'll get this year is life(Oooh)
Where nothing ever grows
No rain or rivers flow
Do they know it's Christmastime at all?

I doubt you need me to chronicle the ways in which this is stupid. You've already done it yourself annually for the past 20 years. But it's that time of year again, so in your festive spirits, do not forget to be angry about the absurdity of these lyrics. Happy Holidays.

Shooting Fish in a Barrel

Here's your BPN post o' the day:

How to properly dispose of placenta in freezer

We took our baby's placenta home in the hopes of planting it under a tree, forgetting that we are renters with no backyard.Now, it's in our freezer and I wanted advice about proper disposal (it's considered biohazardous waste). Can we take it back to Kaiser? Other ideas? needing freezer space back

What.were.they.thinking.exactly? And what do they need the freezer back for? Thanksgiving leftovers? You made your bed, placenta-keepers, and now you need to sleep in it.

In other news, I saw a truck today that said

Crime Scene Clean-up, Inc. Homicide Suicide Accidental Death 24 Hour Service

Good to know that's out there, I guess.

Not much going on otherwise. I am wiped out from all this work and kids and sh*t.

Outraged Defense of a Friend

The other day, I directed you to read a piece concerning a certain Toothbrush-of-the-Month Club, written by our pal Jay Wexler. You probably nodded your head throughout, thinking, my toothbrush is stanky, I could totally use a toothbrush-a-month.

Well, this hater just doesn't get it. OF COURSE, FOR BETTER OR FOR WORSE IS CANADIAN! How else would they give voice to the inner yearnings of Americans? There are several problems with "Z.D. Smith's" doubt-a-rama. First of all, Canadians understand Americans (and by this, I mean, United-States-of-Americans) better than Americans do. Second, FBOFW is about the human condition, not about national identity. Finally, Canadians live on the continent of North America, thus making them American. Sheesh. So fear not the unlikelihood of tenure, Jay Wexler. Your piece on the shits-and-giggles of the SCOTUS doomed that long ago.

Your Little Dose of Methadone

I've been getting some complaints about my absence from the blog. I didn't even realize it had been a week. One reader suggested that I get an assistant to handle things at work, to free me up to write. It's a great idea, but, really its an unfunded mandate. Plus, this week the blog could practically write itself. OJ? Kramer? Riot Grrl mothering? So very much to annoy me, so little time.

Brook and I will be unveiling our "Smile Rockridge" campaign any day now, so check back for updates. We welcome designs for T-shirts, bumper stickers (preferably along the lines of "I heart smiles and I heart Rockridge and I vote" or somesuch), etc. I was thinking maybe we could draw the library into it, make a read-a-thon part of the celebration. But that might just be because I love read-a-thons. For those of you who don't live in the neighborhood, here's the issue: We live in possibly the nicest place on the planet, in one of its nicest neighborhoods, and people on the street refuse to smile or make eye contact. They aggressive frown at you when you walk by them. It's a very walkable place too, so we get frowned at a lot. We cannot figure out what's going on. So in addition to a design contest and a read-a-thon, Smile Rockridge (tm) also welcomes psychoanalysis. A therapy- in, if you will. I think the kick-off week for this campaign is off to a great start and I welcome your comments and suggestions.

Toothbrushes

Toothbrushes toothbrushes toothbrushes.

By the way, is Lincoln Chafee going to go back to being a blacksmith now??

Tummy Grumbles to Paladar T

Paladar Temescal gets a mention in the LA Times in an article on underground restaurants. Congratulations, Melissa and Hannah! Great job this weekend!

Children, Acting Nice

To compensate for the hundreds of times I have forbidden Liam from touching Quinn, I let him hold the baby on his lap this morning. Here's the result:


I learned today that two acquaintances, totally separate and unrelated, had committed suicide. I've also learned other sad things this week, which made me feel old, and, at the same time, naive. I'm being intentionally vague, and mention all this just to say, take care of the ones you love and love them. Thanks.

Thanks But No Thanks

There are problem hundreds of reasons why the Democrats won big yesterday. I am almost certain that this book, Why Mommy Is A Democrat, helped very little. Even with a portion of the sales going to help Democratic candidates.

A New Day

It looks like “Art” did his part, and helped sweep the Dems into power. Very big heavy sighs of relief. This may be the first time that the homophobia of evangelical Christians helped get Democrats elected. The news was reporting that voters were concerned about “corruption” but, like the “values” voters of 2004, this is a code word for homa-sexuals. Only this time, the gays are Republican, and the bans on gay marriage propositions reminded nut-wingers to vote Democrat, as the party of non-pedophiliac, non-methhead gays.

This morning I heard John Tester call Iraq a “quagmire” and Harry Reid called it a “morass”, words no Dem would use yesterday. Well, let’s call it like we see it and be honest now. Very good very good.

May Election Season Never End

I cannot tell you how much I love this story. If this were in a novel, you'd be, like, yeah right. So much hypocrisy. I really hope it torpedoes Colorado's dumb anti-gay-marriage ballot measure. And with Rev. Ted Haggard calling himself "Art" for the purposes of his meth-fueled trysts, I wonder, How does one choose a nom de perv? Is it like the old "Porn Name" game, where you take your first pet's name and the street you grew up on to figure out what you'd be called if you made adult movies. Depending on the pet, and the street, I could be "Frick and Frack Rural Route 4" or "Raindrop Oakland" or, best of all, "Flynn Kimbark", which sounds more like my Lady and the Tramp 3: Bow Wow Wow (straight to video) name.

Anyway, I digress. Maybe Art is somehow a nod to The Naughty Reverend's defense that he never really did meth. He just, you know, wanted to see what it felt like to buy it. It was an experience that he needed so that he could dance about it. Or translate in Chiaro-oscuro or whatever his particular medium is. Or maybe Art was the father of a childhood friend, who was a police officer that Haggard always looked up to, and Haggard wanted to follow into public service, and now, when he's not ministering to his 14,000 member flock, he goes undercover to help do drug and sex-ring busts for, but he can't tell that part of the story yet, because that would hurt an ongoing investigation.

Whatever it is, it's clear we have not heard the whole story yet.

Happy Halloween

Here's picture of Liam in his Starfish costume (belly-up view). I hope everyone has a fun, unegged day.

Lest you get the impression I am working hard

Not much going on - you know, I'm still chewing on last night's Wire episode - but I thought I'd share a couple of things.

First, I think you will come back to this repeatedly.

Second, did you know that Snuffleupagus's first name was Aloysius? Read the wikipedia entry on why adults can now see Snuffy. It's quelle disturbing when you find out Sesame Street is keeping it real.

Please Forgive Me, Mr. Simmons

It turns out that if you Google "I'd love to read a book that traces the history and trends of various names," the first two hits are for Bill Simmons' original column and then my blog. I know this because someone did, in fact, google that sentence. God knows why.

Anyway, aside from being sort of star-struck by my place in that particular line, I am now worried that SportsGuy is going to find out I reprinted part of his column and then sue me. So, Mr. Simmons, if you find your way to this blog (more likely now that I have written your name several times), let me explain: Yours was really a funny column, made funnier by the fact that I have a kid named Liam. HA! "Liam D." if you will.

Other things you should know about me: I love The Wire, and I read your whole book, start to finish, in about 3 consecutive nights. I interrupted a sleep-inducing Sudoku mania to read the whole thing. The hardcover version, which I had bought for my husband. How about that? HOW CAN YOU SUE ME AFTER ALL THAT?

The Mail Bag

A Dear Reader writes:

Dear Drea,

I visited your blog today and read the discussion about postings on BPN. Naturally, my first thought was: "WTF is BPN?" So I did a search on Google and came up with:

1. Berkeley Premium Nutraceuticals. The manufacturer of Enzyte, "the original once-daily tablet for natural male enhancement." The posts you were discussing seemed to fit, but then I thought: "Why would Drea be visiting the Enzyte site?" I mean, I've seen the photo of Brook with the 70's mustache and no one with a mustache that awesome could be having trouble "down there."

2. The Butane-Propane News. Butane? Propane? In your teens you may
have huffed chemicals from paper sacks in New Jersey basements. But Butane? Propane? Too flammable! And, I bet, you don't do that anymore.

3. Banco Português Negócios. Could Drea be laundering money for Bay-area organic milk cooperatives? Maybe? But why would an opinionated hooker be hanging around a Portuguese bank website? Oh wait. Where else would someone go after turning tricks in Macau? Still, that just didn't seem like the answer. Why would Banco Português Negócios have a chat room on their website for milk-money launderers and hookers? Doesn't make sense.

4. Berkeley Parents Network. Oh. That must be it.

Maybe you should publish a glossary of terms and abbreviations so folks like me don't have to devote a half hour to figuring out WTF you're talking about.

Thanks, Reader. You found BPN but for the rest of you, here's a supplemental glossary for understanding this blog:

WTF = What the Fuck?

MIL = Mother-in-law, i.e. someone who does not like that I occasionally use the word "F" on my blog. I would like to just reassure my MIL that I did not then, and do not now, huff chemicals. Ick.

'stache= mustache, an inexplicably frequent topic here at Scobie's.

A Fresh Breath of Sanity and/or Realpolitik

You don't even need the initial post, or the title, to figure out what this BPN post concerns:

I'm a married man at least ten years your junior, and I cantell you are getting more than your average share of intimacyfrom your wife. Also, you're not doing enough around the house. You sound like a complainer. Grow up, start acting like a man (make sacrifices), be happy and love your wife.

Heh, heh. I wonder if Junior even lives in Alameda County. On the topic, here's another voice of reason:

You had my sympathy, more or less, up until that last line: ''I’vesuffered from low self-esteem but getting rejected 6 out of 7days in literally killing me.'' Sex once a week may be frequent,or infrequent, depending on the couple; getting pestered EVERYDAY about it is going to be a huge turn off.

And then there is the "put the fear of God in my heart" post:

This is as much a heads-up to the many moms who post about their reduced sex drive as well as a specific reply to the gentlemanwho posted the query. I'm answering as a single mom in my 40's who is also unashamedly a part-time ''provider''--I advertise on Craigslist--I'm paid for sex and companionship by men from 25 to 65, mostly married, whose wives can't or won't engage in intimate relations (some ever, some infrequently like your wife).

I'm not a ravishingly gorgeous siren; you couldn't pick me out in line at the berkeley bowl. I don't do anything particularly skillful or kinky; what I do is something far simpler, for which there is vast demand: I authentically enjoy sex (albeit on a commercial basis) with husbands like you. More--many more--men get entangled in affairs than see a pro; the repercussions of affairs, when they become emotionally involved, have been well documented on this list.

Whatever those of you reading this may think of me, I'm positive I've seen more than a few husbands of happily married BPNers on a professional basis. I try to send them home feeling satisfied, desirable, and appreciative of their wives' strengths as well as their limitations. If that seems threatening to the women on this list, consider the fact that there are many, many willing women with less firm boundaries--paid and unpaid--for your husbands to avail themselves of in their search of what's ''missing'' long-term in your marriage.

In my opinion, if a woman is not willing to address either the underlying problems in a marriage nor the possible psycho- or physiological reasons why she doesn't enjoy frequent sex with a husband who desires her and is committed to the marriage, then (if divorce is out of the question) you as the husband are justified in discreetly "supplementing'' your sexual needs with other women while your wife keeps her head in the sand. An Opinionated Hooker

Oh, snap.

By the way, various milk obsessions seem to be in remission this week. I will get back atcha when a lactovert surfaces....

The Post that Lets You View the Other Posts

This program has glitch where sometimes you can't see text when there are posted photos. This corrects that, for some reason. Sorry to peel back the curtain on this magical operation.

Who's the ERISA Hottie Now?!

What a fun crew! What a happy couple! See, there are no zombies or peeling flesh! Brook only looks like he is sporting a 70s 'stache!

"But, Dre", you ask, "Why are you hiding behind that lovely bride, peeking over her head like Kilroy over his wall?"

The honest truth is, because I was trying to hide my burgeoning, umm, motherness. I'm too embarassed to post an evidentiary photo, so here's a picture of the beneficiary of my, umm, beneficence:

What Is Stylish?

At my alma mater, you can "concentrate" (aka "major") in some wierd things, like Big Problems* or Fundamentals: Issues & Texts. In Fundamentals, you ask a question, read classical texts concerning that question and then, I don't know what happens. You graduate with the same inchoate degree everyone else has, I guess.

Anyway, I always wanted to concentrate in Fundamentals, but never found the right question. Because my intellectual capacity has dropped off considerably since graduating from that fine institution, I have lowered my standards for what constitutes an adequate question and, in doing so, have found my question. "What is stylish?" and its correlary: how do people choose their style?**
In particular, I am curious about two diametrically different phenomena. First, the people who choose a style that has no currency in popular culture, present or past, and second, people who actually wear stuff featured in fashion magazines. To illustrate the first: the 14-year old daughter of our kids' nanny wears rubber bands around the ankles of her jeans to cinch them. Why? Otherwise she looks put together in the young soft-tough Latina style. When I was her age, I also pegged my jeans, only I folded them tightly. Why did I do that? Nowhere in popular culture are tightly pegged or rubber-banded jeans identified as cool.

To illustrate the second: some of the mothers at Liam's preschool actually wear asymmetrical felt coats. Why? do? they? do? that? I am sure that its all over the Italian Vogue or something but it escapes me why anyone would apply that fashion to their lives. So ugly and uncomfortable, but not even u/u in the skewed "fashion" sense of Berkeley. And by asymmetrical, I mean this, not this.

* "Big Problems" is a set of courses offered to fourth-year students but my experience was that most people had their "big problems" in their sophomore year.

** My classical texts would be Ways of Seeing and Color Me Beautiful, I think.
Alrighty, folks, I will be out of town this weekend at a wedding. Hopefully, I will live to tell about it, rather than becoming one of the special dead.

Christmas Is Coming! Order Now!

My literary agent thinks the time is right for me to announce my forthcoming hardcover memoir, St. Scobie's Mock Whiskey Vol. I. Sign up now for holiday orders!

Blatant Republication

From The SportsGuy at Espn.com:

Here's my question: is there anyone under 40 who goes by the name "Dick?" When did that name go out of style? What was happening in the '50s, when people routinely went by the name "Dick," and there was a famous TV show named "Leave It To Beaver?" And why did names like Ethel, Franklin, Agnes and Marge go out of style, to the point that nobody would ever name their baby daughter Marge? Will the same thing happen in 50 years to names like Jennifer and Liam? I'd love to read a book that traces the history and trends of various names. I'm convinced that half of the girls 20 years from now will be named Sophie or Lily. We're going to have a "Real World/Road Rules Challenge" in 2026 where Sophie A. is feuding with Sophie D. and Sophie G. while Liam N. and Liam W. are forced to pick sides.

hee hee.*

I don't have much to say for myself today. I started back to work Monday and it has had the soul-draining effect that one expects it to have. I started a post the other night which I will put up later, once I find a zinging way to end it. So check back then.

* SportsGuy's query is actually answered in the last chapter of Freakonomics, which I will not summarize for you here.

What Is Stylish?

At my alma mater, you can "concentrate" (aka "major") in some wierd things, like Big Problems* or Fundamentals: Issues & Texts. In Fundamentals, you ask a question, read classical texts concerning that question and then, I don't know what happens. You graduate with the same inchoate degree everyone else has, I guess. Anyway, I always wanted to concentrate in Fundamentals, but never found the right question.

Because my intellectual capacity has dropped off considerably since graduating from that fine institution, I have lowered my standards for what constitutes an adequate question and, in doing so, have found my question. "What is stylish?" and its correlary: how do people choose their style?**

In particular, I am curious about two diametrically different phenomena. First, the people who choose a style that has no currency in popular culture, present or past, and second, people who actually wear stuff featured in fashion magazines. To illustrate the first: the 14-year old daughter of our kids' nanny wears rubber bands around the ankles of her jeans to cinch them. Why? Otherwise she looks put together in the young soft-tough Latina style. When I was her age, I also pegged my jeans, only I folded them tightly. Why did I do that? Nowhere in popular culture are tightly pegged or rubber-banded jeans identified as cool.

To illustrate the second: some of the mothers at Liam's preschool actually wear asymmetrical felt coats. Why? do? they? do? that? I am sure that its all over the Italian Vogue or something but it escapes me why anyone would apply that fashion to their lives. So ugly and uncomfortable, but not even u/u in the skewed "fashion" sense of Berkeley. And by asymmetrical, I mean this, not this.

* "Big Problems" is a set of courses offered to fourth-year students but my experience was that most people had their "big problems" in their sophomore year.
** My classical texts would be Ways of Seeing and Color Me Beautiful, I think.

Alrighty, folks, I will be out of town this weekend at a wedding. Hopefully, I will live to tell about it, rather than becoming one of the special dead.

What Brings You to These Parts?

As I told you yesterday, I have the technology at my fingertips to determine where my readers are, and how they found me. I don't actually check all that often but I was prompted to do so by a more careful reader (okay, it was Mr. St. Scobie). Here's a list of google searchs that have brought you to me, my sweets.

1. works that opposed thomas payne's "common sense"
2. joe maguire and ann coulter
3. "pregnant milking FAN" on Polish google. Don't do this search, it delves into realms you don't want to explore. I am NOT kidding about this.
4. "blog's theme" on the Vietnamese google. Huh? Boring City.
5. pix of fireman Here again, I think the searcher was probably hoping for something a little naughtier than I dish up.
6. breakfast in a can and Htoo brothers
7. Nelson Marans is googling himself again. Although this search suggest Marans has a nemesis.
8. union auto plants
9. Amanda Cotten You remember her, don't you?
10. And, saving the best for last, mustache phobias

I am pretty proud of my failure of cohesiveness.

impraesentiarum

I've been meaning to give shouts out to my reader in Bangladesh and now I can do it all proper style with a link to his blog. Check out impraesentiarum. Thank you.

FYI, fellow bloggers: if you scroll to the bottom of this page, you'll see a little site meter icon. Click on it and you can find out how many readers I get, where they are and what searches bring you to my blog. I can't profile you any more closely for advertising purposes because I don't pony up for the paid service, but its pretty cool nonetheless. That's how I know when someone in Bangladesh or Sweden is reading The Scobie Plain Dealer.

Misguided Social Action

The New York Times reported on Monday that Joe Maguire of Reuters may or may not have been fired for writing "The Lies and Lunacy of Ann Coulter". "A Reuters employee who insisted on anonymity out of concern at angering management said that the 20 or so employees at the markets desk where Mr. Maguire had been one of two editors in charge 'took a group coffee break' in solidarity (last) Thursday."

This is what passes for collective action these days. How sad is that? Not only is the only economic weapon used here "a group coffee break" but rest breaks are, in some states, required. In California, employers that fail to provide a 10-minute rest break in every 4-hour work period must pay the employee who did not get a break one hour of extra pay.

I walked over to the computer to blog about this wussy b*!!sh^@ on The Union Lawyer, but then I received this email from a co-worker:

I am getting involved with a non-profit organization that will help provide under privilege children, who are in foster care, guitar lessons. It is a great way to boost their self esteem, and build their confidence. I'll be volunteering my time to offer these kids free lessons one hour a week each Thursday evening. (They are always looking for volunteers).

This is the best we can do? Give guitar lessons to underprivileged children? I have tried to play the guitar and it did nothing for my self-esteem, except, arguably, lower it.

All this reminded me of Karen Karbo's op-ed ("Will Work for School Supplies") in the NYT yesterday. Karbo made the point that the considerable energy spent selling wrapping paper and popcorn to buy school amenities is energy wasted from a political/social campaign for better school financing. It's an excellent point. But what disturbs me equally is that well-intentioned people waste energy reserved for social change on pointless exercises like "group coffee breaks" and Guitars, Not Guns.

Belly Button Survives Thorough Exam

Does anyone have a local resource for buying into a milk cow share? People do this all the time for meat - I'm hoping to do it for milk. There's some really good information on www.westonaprice.org about how people are getting together to do this, as well as the issues surrounding raw milk, etc., and it seems that it's perfectly legal in California to do this. I know I can get raw milk at a store, but for me freshness is more the issue than anything so I'd really like to pursue this route

I was going to post a comment about this recent BPN posting that went something like this: "Enough with the freaking milk!! There's a war! mid-term elections! nuclear testing in North Korea! and all you people care about is the milk. Stop with the milk!"

And then I realized, any sane friend of mine would be within his or her rights to say: "Dre, Enough with the milk people!! There's a war! mid-term elections! nuclear testing in North Korea! and you care about is lambasting people who obsess about milk! Stop! Obsessing! About! People! Who! Obsess! About! Milk!"

Okay, I'll try.
----

Does anyone have any further information on "Jillian"?

----

Here's a recent photo of Q: N'joy.

Showing Restraint

Believe me, it is with great restraint that I am not, willy-nilly, reprinting the entire BPN Advice Given newsletter today. It's really ripe. So I will just give you one. This is a second or third generation* response:

++ When to Stop Showering w/Son-

What I find interesting is that you refer to your son as a 39-month old. I'm not a prude, but if you started referring toyour son's age as it really is - 3 1/2 years old now, sinceyour posting - then maybe it would sink in that he's perhaps alittle too old to do this.Unless, of course, when he's of driving age you will be celebrating his 192nd monthday-It's high time you used years.

How awesome is that, for a position to stake out? We're at war in Iraq, a congressman tried to fondle underage tidy strivers while his colleagues fiddled, Amish people are being gunned down, and this person is irate that a parent counts their child's age in months. They even took the time to fake-calculate an 18-year-old's "monthday"**. So awesome. And here I thought that only I stake out irrational positions on the minutia of others.***

* The original request for advice having been published several weeks ago.
** 12 times 18 is 216, so an 18 year old really celebrates his 216th monthday. Or birthmonth, really.
*** This person is basically irate over nothing! Think about it: 39 months is 3 and 1/4 years old, not 3 and 1/2. It's practically the same as 3, if you round numbers. And three-year olds are just glorified 2-year olds. So what is the big deal?

Sorry

I just wanted to apologize for sounding like Andy Rooney in that post earlier today.

Or maybe I sound like Mickey Rooney. Egad. I'm even sorrier for that.

Redundant Again

Little Rock, Arkansas, announced that they have chosen a new nickname for their city. The Rock. Catchy, huh? But how about The Little Rock? Or -- since Alcatraz Island is also known as The Rock, but is smaller than the city of Little Rock -- The Big Rock? Or -- since there's a famous action-movie star named The Rock -- The City of Rock? Or is Motor City hoseying that name? Or is Cleveland? Or how about The Geographical Rock? Or the Arkansas Rock?

How about, why does a city need a nickname?

Get Your Freak On.

Per my post below, there is a campaign underway here at 5500 to convince me that there is some redeeming value to football. As part of that campaign, I was encouraged to read Michael Lewis' article on the discovery/creation of Ole Miss left tackle Michael Oher. This will supposedly make me love football because my baseball fannishness, such as it is, can be blamed on Lewis' Moneyball (read it).

But I ain't coming around on this sport. Sorry. The Ballad of Big Mike is (inadvertantly) juxtaposed with What If It's (Sort Of) a Boy and (Sort Of) a Girl?, an article about whether parents should be allowed to authorize surgery on their intersexed kids. Both articles concern "freaks" of nature - one about children born with sex organs which do not reliably correspond with a specific gender, the other about an impoverished boy-giant who has all the social graces of Nell. The only conclusion I could draw from these articles is that if you have one kind of social incapatibility, you will get a cliterodectomy; with the other, you get adopted by born-again Christians who conveniently get you into their alma mater and set you on the path to an $8 million NFL contract.

The intersex article is particularly troubling: the author goes to great pains to put herself at some distance from the subject of the story, a woman who learned of her gender surgery (at ages 2 and 8) only once she was a grown-up. The woman's mother said she had her daughter's clitoris removed because she never used her own. Brrr. Anyway, the reader is supposed to feel sympathy for these parents who don't like their own children's sex organs. What? The? Fuck?* Dislike them so much, in fact, that they have them removed. And I am supposed to side with these people?

Michael Oher, on the other hand, whatever. A poor black child so freakishly large that white people figure out how to make a lot of money off him. I am so unendeared to this story that I have in fact taken a step backwards, toleration-wise, from the sport of football.

(Another inadvertant juxtaposition in the Sunday Magazine is the inclusion of an insider-y article on Ken Mehlman of the GOP. He is a freak of nature because he thinks that the GOP can be transformed into a party of Blacks and Hispanics and does not understand why no one else in his party is on board with his plan. Ahh, poor Ken. boo hoo.)

*Again, sorry, Mother-in-Law.

Lame Thoughts

Today I was driving home from Broccoli Montessori and I saw a bumper sticker that said, "My two favorite teams are Michigan and whoever's playing against Ohio State" andit occurred to me that, to be an anti-fan, i.e. someone who hates "your" team's rival, you actually have to want the team you hate to do moderately well. Which makes you a fan of the team you hate, if you think about it. A rivalry would die if your rival were never any good. Okay, maybe in the first year of their suckdom, you'd be all schadenfreude, and then the next year you'd be like, "Ron Zuck is such an idiot." But in year three, would you give a shit* anymore? You wouldn't paint your face to watch the other team get trounced, reliably, by 11 hits or 5 touchdowns, would you?

I've been thinking a lot about sports lately because my almost-three-year-old is now infected by the football bug, or as he says in his wierd St. Louis accent, "fitbull". He loves it. The only only good thing about it is that in a few years, I can have every Sunday afternoon to myself for a few months at a time.

Finally, and this is totally unrelated, you NEED to watch The Wire, if you are not already doing so. The first two seasons are on DVD, and the third is coming soon. The fourth season is three eps in, and you can watch the first three episodes back to back on Friday night at 8 on HBO. I might watch them again just because I am addicted to this show. I may remind you to watch it every day this week, or even until all my readers cry UNCLE and say, yes, they've watched it.

And another finally: I have been occasionally updating Bay Area Hiking Mamas, for all of you who are interested, but then stopped bothering checking.

*Apologies to my mother-in-law, who thinks I swear too much on my blog, and probably in my life.

A Little Bit of Clean-up

Apparently some folks were baffled by my swipe at Nick Ashford. Okay, so I am no Fug girl; fine, I can live with that. But people, you have to admit he looks like a total drag queen. Either Simpson is his beard or he's one of those straight men who like to wear women's panties - whatever - I just think that explains their causy-ness over The Sexual Other.

Second, David added "incentivized" to the list, and in that spirit, I realize that probably there are other fake words that have "-ize" on the end, created by b-schoolers. Synergize, for example. . .

Finally, did any of you know that Lincoln Chafee was a blacksmith before he was a senator? I can't think of anything funny to say about that, really. He learned it at horseshoeing school; mainly, he shoed horses, I guess. In reality, he looks less like a smithy and more like an actor who plays a smithy in a local theater production of Oklahoma!*

* Full disclosure: I played a male member of the chorus in Oklahoma! in the Academy of St. Elizabeth's 1991 spring production.**

** My other high school spring musical roles include "member of chorus" or "Friend of Nanette" in No No Nanette, "nun" in The Sound of Music and "Lady Brockhurst" in The Boyfriend.

New Link

I have added a link to Rangelife over there on the left because it's a funny blog, and it beat me to the punch on writing about the parents who kidnapped their daughter in order to force her to have an abortion (here). Oh, snap. Probably the easiest story to blog about today but still. Anyway, enjoy your new reading material. Sadly, Rangelife replaces Poo Poo Platter. I think the Grand Poobah is too dejected about the fact that Cheney was not indicted by Fitzgerald to go on blogging.

The second easiest story (that I saw) to blog about involves smuggling rare animals into the country in people's underwear, or something. I wish this article had more specifics. *sigh* I do like the fact that, although the movie was a flop, "snakes on a plane" is now a regularly trafficked cultural touchstone. "Federal agents were tipped off to some unusual happenings when large birds of paradise came flying out of his luggage." That's interesting, but not as interesting as "Most notably, as Monday’s indictment recalled, Mr. Cusack had concealed two lesser slow lorises, also known as pygmy monkeys, in his underwear." What kind of underwear was he wearing?

Actually, this article would be pretty easy to blog about too, but this is a family blog so you'll have to come up with your own jokes. No pun intended.

Finally, T&A Lady reports that she was burglarized, which, as I noted in comment 2 to her post, totally sucks. But it got me thinking, how many words have "ize" on the end? Burglarize, plagiarize, Martinize, modernize. I can't think of any others. Oh wait, pulverize. Any others?

Alanis Morrisette Day

Does anyone else think its a bit ironic that the company allegedly responsible for the E.Coli spinach outbreak is called Natural Selection LLC?

But there is nothing ironic about the fact that Ashford and Simpson have added several paeans to the difficulties of homosexual love to their new show. Per the NYT:

If the show concentrates on favorites from the Ashford & Simpson songbook, including “I’m Every Woman,” “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” and “Solid,” it also includes three promising new songs from a musical-theater work-in-progress based on E. Lynn Harris’s breakthrough novel, “Invisible Life.” “Born This Way” and “I Don’t Ride That Train” bluntly address the conflicts facing characters struggling to define their sexuality. “God Has Love for Everyone” puts a positive slant on all the conflict.

Come ON, Ashford.

I Wouldn't Leave You Hanging

I know you've been dying to hear about the ghost advice, so here it is:

(1) I didn't see your original post, so I don't know how scary your ghost is. I just wanted to comment that my experience was that some ghosts arenot harmful and will leave if you ask them. I feel odd that I even havethis story since most of us never really believe this stuff unless we experience it. The couple that owned our house before us lived there along time and died around age 90. The wife first, then the husband. They did not die in the house. I kept finding the husband's business card in different places in my house (how polite!). I would find them in places I was sure they had not been earlier. I collected them to make sure they were not the same one. I got about 10 of them. Some doors opened on their own and sometimes I felt his presence. Eventually I found a whole box of his businees cards in a basement cupboard. On the advice of a friend, I spoke out loud to him and told him that we had bought the house and were going to take good care of it, that we would make changes to it and make it our own. I told him he needed to move on and go see his wife and rest in peace. I burned some sage sticks in the house and did a make-shift cleansing ceremony. This did the trick! I haven't felt, heard or seen him since. I would say you should start with something like this, maybe even include your son. If it doesn't work after a few conversations then you can move to bigger measures. ghost-less

(2) Your house is probably not haunted, as mine was probably not, but as long as you think it is, you might as well act accordingly. When we first moved into our 1914 house, some weird things happened, so I decided to make friends with the ghost just in case. I talked to the ghost and asked his/her permission to live there and thanked him/her for helping us out. I once left a note for him/her. Then the mysterious things started being helpful things, like the kitchen faucet (which I'd left on) turning itself off before the sink was about to spill over onto the floor. Then stuff stopped happening. Who knows? Reaching out made me feel better; it was probably all in my head but that's what matters to me. Ghost-friendly

So there you go.

Personal Mortification

It seems my good friend T&A Lady has nominated me for a beauty pageant just 5 weeks after I gave birth. With friends like these. . . .Anyway, check out my nomination in the ERISA female hotties contest, and vote for me so I don't lose to Sarah Downey (the current leader) or Ms. Jazz, errr, Fosse hands. I seriously wish I were competing in the ERISA male hotties contest, where the competition isn't quite as stiff. Or rather, the competition is more stiff, and therefore I would have a chance of winning.

I Want Some Pants!!

That's what L is yelling from his room right now, whilst "napping". I don't even want to know why this is being yelled. Anyway, here's another picture from yesterday that I couldn't get loaded before. Sorry that L looks sort of goofy. As does Q. Oh well. At least I look like a brick sh*t house.

Update on school: When asked what he did at his new school, L said, "I sat in a circle. I played with beads."

Which, as I understand it, sums up Montessori education. I think he's just missing, "I wiped the table."

First Day of School

Li started preschool today. He walked into his Montessori classroom, looked around and said, "Where are the toys? Where are the dinosaurs?" I hope education is not too rude an awakening.

He calls his school Broccoli Montessori.

"Sweet sweetness."

In other news, Little Miss Sunshine is funny. Sorry to be all Jackie Harvey, but we don't get out much.

Update

"What is rude is to tell someone else they are being rude. And no, knitting at a meeting isn't rude."

It was not overwhelming, but the majority of responses were that it is not rude to knit at a PTA meeting. Does that make the majority of people in the Bay Area rude? Or do we need to rely on other evidence for that?

The Lazy Blogger

I am considering changing the name of this blog to "The Lazy Blogger" in acknowledgment of my over-reliance on BPN postings as fodder for the blog. But this shit writes itself, people:

Haunted house
-------------------------------------------
I know this sounds completely crazy but I am wondering if my house may have a ghost. My house was built in 1934 and there was one couple who lived in it until the death of the woman in the 80s. The woman died in the house and it was sold. Since my son could talk he would say things about seeing a lady, a shadow, a ghost, etc at different times while in our house. Sometimes he would be afraid and other times not. These days, he will be perfectly happy in a room, playing alone, when all of a sudden he will run out of the room terrified and say something about seeing a ghost. Sometimes we hear strange noises inthe house or will find things in a different way than we thought we had left them. Does anyone believe in ghosts or have experiences with them? I would like to say I don't believe, but I am a very open-minded person and since we really don't know what happens after death, I am starting to believe my son
- haunted house owner

Knitting at meetings
-------------------------------------------
I'm wondering if others think that it is acceptable to quietly knit during PTA or similar meetings if you are clearly a member of the audience and not leading the
meeting. I have always done this and someone just told me that they think it is
disrespectful and plain rude.
Multitasker

Amigos Amigos Amigos

Do you remember in The Three Amigos (one of my favorite movies) when the villagers all dress like amigos ("Sew like the wind, incredibly old woman") in order to confuse and defeat El Guapo? Yeah, I thought it was brilliant too.

According to this article, Hezbollah are also fans of that Martin/Chase/Short vehicle, and are now employing the Amigos Amigos Amigos tactic to their own advantage. There are, in fact, a plethora of Hassan Nasrallahs.

The Cute People Have Invaded

Oh the joys of motherhood, here they are: not crying, whining, nursing or throwing stuff at me.

Fresh Outrage

For those of you who are not networked in with other Berkeley parents, I know you look to me to generate appropriate anger over the lost sheep of the East Bay. I've tackled milk several times. Today's newletter brings answers to the following two queries (summarized):

1. Should I bring my kids to Burning Man?

2. Should I let my brother-in-law, who is the caregiver - nay, manny - of my young daughter, deal pot out of my house?

Now here's my question:

3. How off-kilter is your moral compass that you need to appeal to your neighbors to answer those questions? And why would you? Aren't these the kinds of things we used to hide from one another?

So how do the Berkeley Parents fare in answering? To their credit, it's pretty unanimously agreed that the manny should not be allowed to deal. But that doesn't take a PhD in philosophy or social welfare to get right. The BM question gets a split vote: one "leave the kids at home", one "take them to the Family Camp", and one "wait til their older". Annoying there is not "Burning Man is stupid and people who attend should not be allowed to breed" response. Hmm, we'll have to work on that.

I Feel a Little Dirty Admitting This

As much as I think the US News and World Report college rankings are bogus bullshit, I did feel a slight glow of satisfaction in learning that the University of Chicago moved from #15 to #9 this year (even if it's because they reported a higher endowment than they previously have reported). I feel bad about feeling good, and want to be excoriated, so that my guilt will be purged.

What the aych-eye-double-hockeysticks?

On Friday, the Brookster, Q and I got a little stir crazy and decided to head into SF to see some art. We ran into our old neighbor Julianne. She's good peeps. For those of you who might have visited us at the green house, she was the one with the stanky cats. Anyway, we asked her how were things, etc, and in particular, how are the new tenants who took our apartment?

She went to great lengths to let us know that Amos and Annie (yeah, that's what they go by) are REALLY REALLY nice people. But, "they, ummm, do howl therapy." They bark and cluck and howl like animals as part of their particular brand of yoga/worship/therapy. But they are really nice folks. He is a "part-time teacher" and she is a "life coach/storyteller". *sigh*

Googling "howl therapy" just yields blogs devoted to poetry and the poets' progress in analysis, so don't bother.

Quinn Finally Arrives

I am pleased and exhausted to report that Quinn joined us on July 31, 2006 at 2:04 p.m. He weighed a whopping 9 pounds 12 ounces, 20.5 inches. He is an expert nurser and sleeper, and is slowly warming to his role as a little brother.

Where I Have Been

Short answer: Nowhere.

Long answer: Gestating like crazy and crawling the walls as a result. So no, there's no news. I am now 9 days late. I thought I would provide a list -- and this will bore you to death -- of the things I have been doing while waiting for this baby to be born:

Due Date: July 17 - took a walk around the block, then retrieved child #1 from his daycare in order to take him to the emergency room because he smashed his head open on some piece of trash his day-care lady had left in her backyard. Spent hours in ER, complaining to anyone that would listen that I was due that day. Turned down offer of gurney, held injured child, burrito-style, while an Annie-Lennox-but-less-hot-looking nurse glued the kiddo's head back together. He is no worse for the wear; I am still pregnant.

I have gotten one pedicure.

I have completed one 500 piece jigsaw puzzle, featuring Mt. Rainier.

I have taken in one Red Sox-A's game.

I have finished book 7 in the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series, Blue Shoes and Happiness. McCall Smith is really coasting on bullshit pseudo-Africo-wisdom now. I am seriously considering finally finishing Moby Dick, which I have pretended to try to do twice already before.

I made a mix tape for Liam. It includes the following songs: This Land is Your Land, Lindbergh, The Car Song, Do-Re-Mi (Woody Guthrie); O Susannah (James Taylor); Washington DC and Fido, Your Leash is Too Long (Magnetic Fields); Hey Ya! (Outkast); Family Business (Kanye West); Can't Take My Eyes Off of You (Lauryn Hill); Chasing After James (Hazel); two samba songs; Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots (Flaming Lips) and Isabel (Unrest). Not in that order. I worked on it for like 3 days. Only one of those songs (Fido) uses the F word, as far as I can tell.

It turns out I am the kind of parent who likes songs that include inappropriate topics/words, but am not comfortable letting my child hear them. I feel like such a hypocrite already and he's only 2. This occurred to me recently when I was listening the Beastie Boys. The lyric "Your mom just threw away your best porno mag" made me realize that I have, or will, change sides in the historic battle between adults and children.

I have taken many walks around the block.

I am up to date on all Entourage episodes except the one that was added to On Demand yesterday. I suspect (from the description) that it may involve a threesome, so I don't want to watch it while my mom is still here.

I saw the Gee's Bend exhibit at the DeYoung Museum.

I have eaten Indian food twice.

I have paid some August bills, and dealt with two health insurance matters which I had been avoiding. Apparently someone else is also visiting the emergency room using my insurance card. Great. So that means I can add "I got my identity stolen" to the list of stuff I have done while waiting for child #2.

That's it, I'm tapped out. I think if other women followed my prescription here, they would have had their babies already. So I am looking for other low-key, time-consuming activities that might induce labor. I welcome your thoughts.

Htoo Twins Take Over Poland

When I saw this picture in the paper this morning (to the left there), I immediately recalled the Htoo twins*, and wondered, Why aren't there more super-villainous twins??

Those Htoo brothers sure grew up fast, didn't they? I wonder if there is a Karen rebel/Polish super-alliance now. And Johnny (or is it Luther) did a great job growing his hair back down to its natural hairline.

A Slightly Better Attempt

While I do not have my chops today, Dan Savage does. In particular, I like this letter:

I love my husband so, so much. He's so, so good to me, we have a great life together, and the sex is good. But there's another man I'm so, so attracted to. I don't want to jeopardize my marriage, or hurt my husband, but I'm afraid I might give in to the attraction in a moment of weakness. At the same time, I don't want to give up the activity where I see this other man, because the activity (martial-arts study) is a really important part of my life.
So, So Married

Lordy, what a predicament! The more time you spend with this other man, the likelier it becomes that you'll cheat. But you can't stop seeing this other man because you study martial arts with him and that's such an important part of your life—unlike, say, your marriage—and you couldn't possibly give it up! And as everyone on earth knows, there's only one martial-arts school on the whole freakin' planet, so you're pretty much condemned to spend time with this other man—what other choice do you have?—until the inevitable inevitability inevitably happens.
Puh-leeze, SSM. If your husband doesn't rate the supreme sacrifice of switching to some other martial-arts school, then nothing I can say is going to stop you from getting what you so, so desperately want. But after you fuck this other guy, SSM, don't run around pretending that you were just a victim of cruel circumstance—martial arts made me do it!—and not the so, so guilty instigator.

Sorry It's Been A Whole Week

This doesn't even really live up to Scobie standards, but I thought you might like the distraction. In related news, there's this.

*sigh* I promise that I will try harder to find something interesting for you to read. No pun intended.

Scobie Grab Bag

For the four readers who check in here to get their fix of Alabama political gossip, y'all should know that former governor Don Seigelman was convicted on 7 (of 34) counts of corruption earlier today. Co-defendant Richard Scrushy, former HealthSouth CEO, found that pretending he was a black preacherman didn't work as well in Judge Mark Fuller's court as it did up in Birmin'ham.

I'm sorry, but I agree that John Devis' Journal is the best blog that I have seen in maybe my whole life. I really wish that, when I was casting about for a theme, I had thought of the "big cats/dead game/Khazakhstan" combo.

The time killer over at My Heritage.com ("Find the Celebrity in You! TM) reveals my likeness to, in order to likeness: Neil Sedaka, Andie McDowell, Maurice Chevalier, Sharon Stone, Hugh Grant, Peter O'Toole, Gary Lineker, and Chloe Sevigny. No Isabella Rosellini or Linda Evangelista. Wierd, huh?

F your I, the photos I chose to link to are not the ones that were compared to the one I submitted. Except for Sharon Stone's. I basically look just like her in the picture I submitted.

Milk OBSESSION Hits Bay Area!

I thought the relatively reasonable referral to Straus Creamery last week would have mooted this sort of nonsense, but looks who's back. Or its her sister. But whatever:

Raw Milk

During my first pregnancy, a dear, and very well-informed, friend introduced me to the wonders of raw milk. I drank it throughout the pregnancy and had a very successful pregnancy and birth and are blessed with a very healthy child. I'm now pregnant again and want to continue drinking it. After researching it extensively, I'm absolutely convinced it is one of the most important things I can be doing for my and my family's health. The trouble is, it is very,very expensive from retail outlets. Two questions: 1) does anybody else have experience (positive or negative) with drinking raw milk? and 2)does anyone know of a local (we're in oakland) buying collective we could join/would anyone be interested in starting one with us? They require a minimum $200 purchase every two weeks - roughly 35 gallons I think. The aforementioned friend is part of such a collective in Wisconsin and could give us guidance about the logistics. If you would like more information about raw milk and its benefits, you can check out realmilk.com or organic pastures.

By Comparison, the Responses Seem Sane

I am sure you were all dying to know what the BPN posters below got in response to their queries. Appropriately, Ms. Eco-friendly Shelf Liner got no responses at all. I breathe a sigh of relief that we, as a community, have not gone that far out of the bounds of reality yet. The Mad Milker got this single response - tame in comparison to her request, despite the reference to bovine homeopathy:

I saw this message in an earlier newsletter and hopefully by now someone has steered you (no pun intended) to Strauss creamery milk (in the glass jug). The cows are raised up in W. Marin and given only homeopathy, etc... Remember that cows NEED to be milked twice a day and machine milking is the way to go in the 21st C. You need to shake up the Vit. D. milk to homogenize it--no child enjoys a slimy cream layer on their glass of milk. Good luck and congrats on trying to get your kid the very best in milk products Milk Lover

The jury is still out on The Sunscreen Scrooge.

The Marin cows thing reminds me of a story: My aunt is a big fan of her Shelties but she and her husband travel a lot for work. She once reported, without a hint of doubt or irony, that she had found a dog kennel to board her beloved Bailey where, for an extra $15/day, the dog would be taken for "a walk in the meadow." My aunt thought it was the deal of the century until someone (everyone) pointed out that there was no possible way to confirm that the walk had occurred. In the 10-15 years since, my aunt is asked whether her dogs have gotten their walks in the meadow, their steaks tartare, their trips to the symphony, etc. Haar har.*

*Family stories aren't really that funny outside of the family, are they?

Be Thankful You Live Elsewhere, If You Do

This time of year, when it is blazingly hot everywhere else in the country, non-Bay-Arears (??) turn westward to vacation and salivate over our perfect 72 degrees, clear as chrystal days. But if you need any reason to appreciate your own humid, nay, fetid, hometown, then look no further.

First of all, check out Rangelife's riff on SF business owner Amanda Cotten. (Thanks Missoula).

Next, follow me over to the Recommendations Wanted posting from the Berkeley Parents Network for these gems:

Eco-friendly Shelf Liner: We just remodeled our kitchen and need shelf liners to protect our newly painted shelves from heavy pots. I've just read that the heavy plastic liners off-gas a lot, so I'm looking for an alternative. Any suggestions? I'd rather have something removable (not contact paper). Thanks!

You live in a toxic stew of Bay Area car emissions and Berkeley patchouli body odor and you are worried about your f***ing shelf liner?? Also, is "off-gas" a f***ing word??

Fresh milk in Berkeley or surrounding area??: We are a vegan family (mostly—we do sometimes eat eggs from a friend’s chickens) with a 20 month old who is soon to be weaned off breast milk. We’re thinking that we may start adding milk to her diet (probably goat or sheep, but we’re open to cow) when we stop feeding her breast milk if we can find a well treated local animal to milk, or to have milked. Does anyone have any suggestions? We live in South Berkeley.

You are going to milk this goat, SHEEP, or cow by HAND????

Sunscreen for seriously rashy baby: My 10 month old is very rashy and every sunscreen I've tried so far is a no-go. I've read what's on the website, and I've tried Banana Boat and also California Baby. I'm sure there's one out there that will work, but they're so expensive, I don't want to spend hundreds of dollars on tubes of things I'll never use. What works for a very rashy baby, other than a hat and an umbrella?

Do you, or do you not, want to your child to get sunburned?? Cheap bastard.

Okay, I will stop with the foul-mouthed Andy Rooney routine and go back to meditating in preparation for my silent water birth.

Oh Brit. Part Deux.

I have a pretty strong suspicion that Britney Spears does not know where Namibia is.

To which Angelina replied: "And I will have my next baby in a crack shack on the bayou. Can someone please fetch me a restraining order?"

Oh Darryl.

I am posting this for my temporarily-Swedish readers:

Speaking of publicists, was it Darryl Hannah's publicist who thought she could revive her career by being arrested at The Farm in LA? Because it isn't going to work. I suspect Julia Butterfly Hill is a little annoyed that DH has been squatting on a bush or something for the past 17 days. I suspect this because I am a lot annoyed by it. And I am 110% the biggest community gardening fan on the planet. I am just not a Darryl-Hannah-revived-career fan.

Oh Brit.

Apparently, Britney Spears has hired Tom Cruise's publicist.

I can say that because I watch Entourage now, and know what a publicist does, or is supposed to do.

For All You Haters

I am pretty tired of hearing about how huge I look, and why I am still at work, and how I am "all baby" and "bout to bust" and so forth. You can direct all future comments to this brave woman, who has found a terrible way around China's one-baby policy.

Good Foreign Policy Move for 2008 Candidate

Check it:


It's a crazy thing to do, but you gotta admit, Hillary looks great in a bikini. Maybe not so much in the thighs, but her boobs are shockingly nice. For a senator, is what I mean.

How Bad Do You Want it?

When I first read that Ann Coulter has called 9/11 widows "witches", I was so shocked that I laughed. Another apt reaction: "She makes me want to stab myself in the eyes and ears with pencils." Thanks poo poo platter.

But then I thought, I have to think about this from Coulter's perspective, which is hard, since I am not Satan. But I think I understand where she's coming from. She's jealous. She is green with envy. Because honestly, she's the only woman alive who would wish her husband had died in a fiery terrorist attack so that she could have the kind of political capital those widows have. Of course she's never married, so she's never had the opportunity to profit from the nationally-tragic death of a spouse. But, oh, she would if she could. And not just in a "cash in the life insurance" kind of way.

The other thing is, this is just going to sell books. So once you know about it, just file it away in your brain and do not waste one mental milliwatt of energy on her vomit. It only encourages her.

Totally Unrelated Good News

Wow, Roy Moore goes down AND Albertson's announces its closing its store on College Ave. Deos mio. It's a good day.

Political News of the Wierd

It should be a good night for blogging. Those of us who swore off electoral politics (temporarily) after the 2004 election get a little taste of November with today's primaries. First, the normal news. Lucy Baxley looks close to trouncing Don Seigelman in the AL Democratic primary, and Bob Riley has already been declared the winner of the Republican primary. Their margins of victory are, in the first case, a sign that folks are turned off from politicians of either party who have the stench of scandal about them, and in the second case, a sign that Alabama Republicans want to be free of the stench of Roy Moore. Bob Riley was roundly despised (by Republicans) during his Amendment 1 campaign but they still don't want to be marked as backwater nutjobs. In other good news, Drayton Nabors is beating Tom Parker for Supreme Court Chief Justice. (For updates on AL polls tonight, see here.)

In my county, Phil Angelides is leading Steve Westly for the Dem gov nomination. It's early, but Alameda County has 1 out of every 20 Democratic voters in the state. And Francine Busby is leading Brian Bilbray in the 50th Congressional District. Which rules.

Here's the wierd, or maybe sad, news from today's Alabama primary: Larry Darby is close on the heels of John Tyson for the Democratic nomination for Attorney General. (Troy King has already got the Republican nomination - natch). That's fucked up.

Even more fucked up than Katherine Harris' inexplicable contention that she will use a guide dog in Washington once elected to the Senate, notwithstanding her sightedness. She sounds totally unhinged these days.

Okay, more as the evening unfolds.

The Internets Is Abuzz Today

Anna Nicole Smith has announced that she is pregnant. Let me be the first (or whatever) to congratulate her. My sincerest hope is that she was inseminated with the sperm of her late husband J. Howard Marshall II, Texas oil tycoon*. If so, she is a complete genius. Or her lawyer is. If she were to create a new heir to the Marshall fortune, it would guarantee litigation with her obnoxious "stepson" well into the next century. Notwithstanding evidence to the contrary, I actually have work to do, so I will have to "research" the cases about posthumous insemination a little later in the day.

*I need more reasons to use the word "tycoon" in my life.

This Blog Is Not Sponsored By Spencer's Gifts

It only seems like it is.



For those of you curious about the Puzzle Alarm Clock, which spews puzzle pieces when it goes off and can't be silenced til the puzzle is done, I also recommend the Blowfly Alarm, which buzzes around the room and can only be silenced when it is returned to its cage.

Caution: John Travolta Alert

In case you were hoping that the gross-out stories of the day would be limited to the front page of the paper today, hope no more. The New York Times Style section has an article on how gyms are no longer the dating scene they once were. Great, you think. Except that it includes descriptions such as this:

When men and women first began working out together in the late 70's and early 80's, the atmosphere at many gyms was as sexually charged as a John Travolta-era disco: beefy men and lithe women pumped iron, Jazzercised and gave each other the eye.

And gym bunnies, both male and female, dressed to accentuate their appeal (or so they thought). "Jane Fonda made it O.K. for us to exercise almost naked in public," Ms. Fox said. "There was a whole sexual revealment — a thong leotard with a flesh-colored tight. It was like, butt cheek, hello! When I look back on it now, it looks like an exotic dancer outfit."

Men liked to flaunt their assets, too. In "Perfect," Mr. Travolta wears crotch-hugging short shorts, and he's not afraid of the hip thrust.

Is that necessary?? Also, is revealment a word?

WTF?

Having gotten no satisfaction from my earlier license plate musings, I was pretty annoyed today to see a bumper sticker that said, "I (heart) dogs & I (heart) art & I vote!!" I am not even going to bother researching this stupid bullshit. I will go straight to Dan's conclusion re Thomas Payne: "Actually it makes no effing sense at all, and solves nothing." I may cross-stitch that on my ass if I see another stupid fucking license plate/bumper sticker.

I take that back, since Berkeley is the ninth circle of bumper sticker hell.

My Vigilance is Rewarded

Nelson Marans is dropping some knowledge on y'all over on the Science Times letters page. Don't think I am not watching, Nelson Marans. I am.

What else is going on with me? Not much. I updated Bay Area Hiking Mamas yesterday. I let someone give my child a buzz cut yesterday. No, wait, I actively encouraged it. It's really freaking cute. Our digital camera is broken, so you'll have to take my word for it.

Re-printing Without Editorial Comment

From The Onion
Pregnant Woman Glows With Rage
May 24, 2006 Issue 42•21
BROOKLYN, NY—Developments common to the seventh month of pregnancy have caused mother-to-be Anita Cernicke to glow with the inner light of pure fury, those close to the Cernickes report. "Jesus Christ, my fucking back," Cernicke, incandescent with the wrath of impending motherhood, said repeatedly to her husband during a recent trip to the grocery store. "Ask the manager if I can use the restroom. I'm peeing every 15 minutes, I swear. How long until I can have a god-damned drink?" Family sources said they see no reason why Cernicke's positively livid radiance can't sustain itself to the baby's due date and beyond.

Boo Boo the Chicken

Things to Do in Arkadelphia When You're Dead.

Can you tell that I am having a really hard time focusing on work this afternoon?

Where Are They Now?

Hey former Hache-Pee-Kayers, wonder whatever happened to Benjahmin Evans and his adorable sweetheart Jen Stewart? Look no further. Not sure what this means for Drag King, but the radon sure contributes to the, umm, mystique.

And sorry to my other readers who could not give a shit. Or who wonder why I read Money magazine. (Let me put it this way: I read it for the articles.)

Nothing Makes Sense About This

Anonymous asked for clarification on a license plate cover that said, "My Other Car is a Thomas Payne Novel". My interest was piqued. After searching Amazon and the Oakland Public Library, my curiosity is beyond piqued. What's a word that even means "beyond piqued"? Enzealed?

Here are some books authored by people named Thomas Payne or Tom Payne:

1. Gatitos! by Larry Dane Brimner & Tom Payne - Cats - Juvenile fiction
2. Odd Moments in Baseball - Joel Cohen & Tom Payne - Baseball humor - juvenile
3. The Epiphany: An operetta for children: Matthew 2:1-12 by Edward Thomas Payne
4. Spiritual death and resurrection;: A treatise: on The crucifixion and death of the old man, and The resurrection and spiritual life of the new by Thomas Payne
5. A catalogue of books, to be sold at the prices affixed to each article by Thomas Payne
6. Things I Wish I Had Known Before I Started Sailing by John Vigor and Thomas Payne
7. From the inside out: How to create and survive a culture of change by Thomas Payne
8. File This, Please! by Marjorie Thomas Payne
9. Exploring Language Structure: A Student's Guide by Thomas Payne
10. This Whole Tooth Fairy Things Nothing But A Big Rip Off! by Lois Grambling and Thomas Payne

Need I go on?

Did they owner of this car really mean Thomas Paine (author of the nonfiction Common Sense)? Or is Thomas Payne a code word for vanity-publishing authors? And why do 7 of these 10 examples have an exclamation point in their titles? Is it the law of averages or do exclamation points really draw the reader's eye to the title?

I am reminded of Pee Wee Herman's speech in his basement to his friends when he is describing his search for the bike thief:

The mind plays tricks on you. You play tricks back! It's like you're unraveling a big cable-knit sweater that someone keeps knitting and knitting and knitting and knitting and knitting and knitting...