Friday, October 17, 2008

Interesting

The Chicago Tribune endorsed Obama today.

The first time in the paper's history that the editorial staff has chosen a Democrat. It was founded in 1847.

Also today: The Washington Post (another relatively conservative paper) announced it is endorsing Obama as well.

Here's what is most interesting: Both of the papers cited McCain's choice of running mate Sarah Palin as a major reason for their decisions.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Amazing Life - Jem
I am reading: The endorsements
And I am: Fine

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Where I'm from

Pet peeve #3,874:

"Oh, you're from Michigan? Where?"

"Mount Clemens...well, where I grew up they call it Macomb now."

"Is that near West Bloomfield?"

"Um, no, it's er, northeast of Detroit."

"Oh. I only know people from West Bloomfield."

God...DAMMIT.

If you haven't guessed, West Bloomfield is where all the 'My car is worth more than your home' people live.

Makes me feel like I'm in that scene from Caddyshack when the wealthy kid says 'Really...are you going to Harvard?' and Danny replies 'No, I'm going to St. Copias of northern. . .'

Yep.

What really kills me is this: Michigan is a HUGE state. Huge.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Round Here - Counting Crows
I am reading: Updates to my event wiki
And I am: From the CLEM, dammit!

Monday, October 13, 2008

Endorsements

Jeez, Hedy. Enough with the politics. We're sick of it. We're sick of bad news. And we're tired of all the negativity.

I know! So these endorsements involve two of America's favorite pastimes: Entertainment and Shopping!

YAY, America!

Movies

Freedom Writers - This is an amazing true story. A step way, way above any of the other white-teacher-makes-a-difference-in-the-projects flicks. Worlds better than Finding Forrester (my former favorite in this genre). I've watched it twice in the past 24 hours. If you watch one movie in the next two weeks, make it this one. Relatively kid-friendly with a tiny bit of violence and language, but so powerful.

Ironman - I'm more of a Merchant Ivory chick, so I don't get much from the comic book movies. But this is fun for one reason: Robert Downey, Jr. He's brilliant and captivating. A bit of violence, but again, fairly safe for kids.

The Color Purple - Hadn't watched this movie (based on Alice Walker's Pulitzer Prize winning novel) since the late 80's when, flipping through the channels, I found it a few weekends ago. It's as powerful as ever. Amazing story - amazing cast. Fuck Out of Africa. This movie should've won the Best Picture Oscar.

The Full Monty - This is like the anti-Christ of Merchant Ivory films but I love love love it. Watch it with subtitles on because the accents can be dodgy. I cry laughing over the gnome interview scene every time. In my top 10 favorites of all time.

The Queen - Speaking of Brit flicks, this film gives us a glimpse into the weird, wacky lives of the royal family immediately following Princess Di's untimely death. I don't know how accurate it is. Hellen Mirren's queen cries over a dead buck but is a cold-hearted bitch when it comes to Diana. Sad but interesting.

TV Shows

True Blood - I read Salem's Lot by Stephen King in high school. Before that, it was Detroit's Sir Graves Ghastly who lovingly introduced me to all of the classic horror flicks, including Dracula. That said, I'm not a huge fan of vampire books and flicks. That silly-ass born again twat Ann Rice ruined it for me. However. This show, written by Alan Ball -- who created Six Feet Under and American Beauty -- sucks you right in. Sorry. Still. Amazing characters and fantastic writing, but not at all kid-safe.

The Big Bang Theory - Confession: I'm a geek freak. Be smart. Make me laugh. And I'm all yours. Watch this show if you want to understand what churns my butter.

Dexter - You know those chicks who write letters to prison inmates? Although this show's serial killer (who only kills really bad people) hasn't been caught yet, I finally understand those nutty broads. Fascinating premise. Good writing. And Captain Yummy Pants, Michael C. Hall is a real killer.

Products

Apple wired keyboard - I went to Best Buy with the intention of purchasing a new Apple keyboard for my desk at work. Against my better judgment (it's a long story) I came home with the Rocketfish Bluetooth keyboard - an utterly disappointing piece of shit for several reasons: Lame set-up instructions, a virtually worthless web site, and (most important) a loud, clunky keyboard. I came home and took the time to pair the keyboard with my Mac that night rather than having to fiddle with it in the morning at work. It took six (!) times to get the Mac to recognize the keyboard and when I got in the office the next day, it didn't remember the keyboard. And yes, my Mac was set to remember the hardware. I returned to Best Buy that night and got the Apple keyboard. Soft, silent and remarkably well made. Bonus: The Apple keyboard was $10 cheaper so I had extra cash to get the Ironman DVD for Jim. So, the lesson here, kiddies: When you have the opportunity to purchase something from Apple, don't fuck around, just do it.

Pill Pockets for Dogs - Gromit is a decidedly middle-aged dog. He's on more meds than us, and that's saying a lot. And he's no fool (as you well know). You can't bury the pills in his food because he'll eat around them. Pill Pockets are perfect for providing pills to your persnickety pooch.

Gap Undies - I pretty much hate this store. The clothes are overpriced and lately they feel cheap. But I wandered in a few weeks ago and they had a sale on squirrel covers so I picked up a few. I have to say they make me feel like Gladys. Gladys, Hedy? Yes. Gladys. Glad-ass. Happy bottom. Good stuff.

The Pet Trainer - I'll never forget this. The first time little 8-week old Grommie visited the vet, his doctor told me two things: 1) I hope you didn't get this dog for protection, because he's a sweetheart and 2) He will always tell you exactly how he feels. In case you haven't noticed, Gromit can be rather outspoken. Which is a nice way of saying he has a tendency to bark his ass off. Especially if you're swimming. Or eating dinner. Or simply in the other room, ignoring him. A couple months ago Jim's mom picked up the Pet Trainer for us and it works remarkably well. It supposedly emits an ultrasonic tone that is irritating to dogs. I dunno, but every time we hit the button, Grommie squinches up his face just like Sarah Palin when Katie Couric asked about her foreign policy experience. The best part? We don't have to actually use it any more. If he gets barky, we just pull it outta the drawer and he shuts right up. Smart dog.

Dr. Feelgood's face balm - About 2 p.m. every day, my face gets about as greasy as a Mr. Beef's Italian, which is best eaten off of the sports section of the Chicago Sun-Times because Mr. Beef doesn't provide trays. Anyhow. Back at my face. It ain't just T-zone, either. It's AOFF-zone. As in All Over my Fucking Face. But no more. Dr. Feelgood - in spite of the unfortunate Crue-esque name - is fantastic. No more Mr. Beef forehead. As Jim likes to say: Just a steamin' pile o' cute.

iPhone - If God had a mobile phone, it would be the iPhone. Of course there ain't an app for talking to The Lord just yet, but I'm sure those clever buggers over at Apple will announce it soon. Email. Internet. All kinds of cool gadgets wrapped up in the easiest, most comfortable, most useful phone you could ever want. Can I get an amen? AMEN!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Bad Things - Jace Everett
I am reading: Not much
And I am: Relaxed

Sunday, October 12, 2008

The opposite of Arab is....

Here's a transcript from an exchange between McCain and one of his supporters at a recent rally. They're talking about Barack Obama:

"He's...he's an Arab," says a woman from the audience.

"No. No ma’am. No ma'am. He’s a decent, family man citizen that I happen to have disagreements with on fundamental issues," says McCain.

Did you catch that? Here's the video.

But HEDY - you PROMISED you weren't going to write about politics.

This is more of a social commentary than political. Truly.

So the woman calls Obama an Arab and McCain says "No, he's a decent citizen."

As if the 3,500,000 Arab Americans living here in the United States aren't decent citizens?

Well, I'm sure some of them are complete assholes, but it's not as if simply by virtue of being Arab, they're automatically terrorists, criminals, and liars.

Right?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: The Chicago Marathon, waiting for Meet the Press
I am reading: Stoking fear of The Other by Steinberg
And I am: Sad

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Quiet

Unlike my friend Moe, I have no legitimate excuse for not posting this week.

He's right, you know.

Our lives will change because of what's happening in the global economy.

Although you wouldn't know it. The parking lot was jammed as usual at the Chicago Premium Outlet off of I-88 this afternoon.

And there was an hour wait at the restaurant we went to last night - so we ended up eating at the bar.

So. This means either a) People don't realize how bad things really are or b) They realize and are making themselves feel better in typical American fashion by drinking, eating and shopping.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Freedom Writers
I am reading: Research on Bill Ayers
And I am: Tense

Tuesday, October 07, 2008

The Zen Question

"What don't you know and how will you learn it?"

"Great question. They say that wisdom begins when you admit what you don't know. I'd like to end this debate with perhaps the first honest, direct answer of the evening. I don't know if I'll be able to accomplish all the things I've been talking about throughout this campaign. I don't know when this fuckstorm of an economy is going to turn around. I don't know if you'll be better off four years from now. But I do know that putting you - the American people - first for a change and really listening to what you know about this great country of ours would be a good start towards learning more about the things that I don't know. Thanks for listening to us tonight; it's time we started listening to you."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: NBC5 News
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Really craving some candor

A bit of non-partisan frustration, if you don't mind

Senators Obama and McCain: ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTIONS.
~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: A bunch of blah blah
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Frustrated

Saturday, October 04, 2008

Best day

We're heading into this highly anticipated Big Wedding Weekend as my friend Susan so lovingly pointed out yesterday.

It's 9:33 a.m. And I'm eating Cheez-Its for breakfast.

I'm not crazy, just incredibly hormonal.

Yep. Perhaps one of the most emotionally-charged events in recent memory and I'm fixin' to bleed.

I was choking up at the rehearsal last night. Without serious help from Jack Daniels today, I'm going to be a blubbering pile of snot before we even make it to the church.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Are you glad you married me?" I ask yesterday, after a lovely and unexpected afternoon visit with the Bride and Groom.

It's not quite enough to be cramped and bloated and crabby, I have to become a bleeding Mrs. Beasley doll -- pull my cord and instead of 'Would you like to try on my glasses?' or 'Do you want to know a secret?' it's the same four questions:
  • Do you love me?
  • Do I look fat?
  • Are you glad you married me?
  • WHERE IS THE CHIP DIP?
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Are you glad you married me?"

"Yes. It was the best day of my life."

"You're lying."

"Yes. I'm lying. It was the day Karen Abbott gave me a blowjob. But our wedding was a close second."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
And that is what I wish for our dear friends Steve and Judy on this brightest and most blessed of days: Laughter.

Keep laughing together and your best day will never be behind or ahead of you, but today.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: This Will Be (An Everlasting Love) - Natalie Cole
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Bleeding and blessed

Thursday, October 02, 2008

VP schmeepees

I peed in my pants a little when Biden said 'Bosniacs.'

Da says she lost; Mom says she won.

I've promised not to talk about this until I can be nice, so I'll just say G'night and God Bless Ya to Joe SixPack and the Soccer Mom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Tom Brokaw talking like he has marbles in his mouth
I am reading: Nothing, too tired
And I am: Sleeping in tomorrow

The question

"Hedy, when it comes to establishing your world view, I was curious, what newspapers and magazines do you regularly read to stay informed and to understand the world?"

"I'm so glad you asked, Katie. I read the New York Times, the Washington Post, and the Chicago Tribune on a daily basis. For a more global perspective, I also read the International Herald-Tribune and the Scotsman. I listen to the local NPR station as often as I can. For a more irreverent (yet truthful) perspective on world events, I subscribe to the Daily Show via iTunes and visit Fark every day. I also have Google reader set up on my iPhone so I can do a quick scan of news first thing in the morning. As for magazines, I subscribe to Newsweek and Real Simple. My husband gets Playboy and I read that every month, too. Great stuff in there about major Supreme Court rulings and whathaveyou."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Amazing Life - Jem
I am reading: Here Comes Everybody by Clay Shirky
And I am: Informed

Wednesday, October 01, 2008

The perfect sandwich

“So I read your blog. You’re not going to write about politics or religion anymore?”

That was Mom on the way to the train this morning.

“Nope. Not until I can figure out how to do it without being offensive.”

“Well that’s good,” she says.

“Yeah, we’ll see how long it lasts.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Watching late night TV on Monday, it hit me: The ingredients for the perfect sandwich.

The perfect sandwich, Hedy? Is this what it’s come to? Recipes?

Right. I don’t cook.

Last night I turned off the oven light All By Myself and received a standing ovation from Jim and our friend You Know Who.

To be perfectly honest they didn’t exactly stand up. Or clap. But it was a proud culinary moment nonetheless.

Anyhow. Just because I don’t know my way around the kitchen doesn’t mean I don’t know what tastes good.

So here ya go:

Hedy’s Recipe for the Perfect Sandwich

1) Russell Crowe
2) Craig Ferguson

Ta-da!

Clapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclap.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You were expecting bread and condiments, not beefcake? C’mon.

The idea of Craig and Russell making a Hedy sammich is sometimes the only thing that gets me through the day.

Well, at least since yesterday.

Before then it was more of a Craig Ferguson flat-bread pizza with a smidge of extra virgin olive oil. And a banjo.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hedy, your sandwich seems a little meat-heavy, won’t that be rather, um, filling?

Exactly.

Bon appétit!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Don’t Tell Me - Madonna
I am reading: Here Comes Everybody – The Power of Organizing Without Organizations by Clay Shirky
And I am: Hungry

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

The point of my story

I was fortunate to spend last Sunday afternoon with my dear friend Susan, and, as expected, the conversation turned to God and politics.

She shared two stories with me:

Last week she found herself walking to work next to a woman – obviously a Democrat – sporting an Obama button on her bag. Seizing what Susan thought was a great opportunity to learn more about a supporter of this candidate, she asked the woman: “Would you mind telling me why you’re supporting Obama?” The woman looked at her coldly, almost angrily, and said: “No, I don’t like sharing my views on politics.”

We agreed that – whether you’re wearing a symbol of your faith or a political button – if you’re going to advertise your beliefs, you ought to at least be willing to talk about them with curious strangers.

The other story involved her son. Apparently he has an Obama bumper sticker on his car. Sitting at a red light last week, a woman in the car next to him – obviously a Republican – started yelling at him about supporting a man she considered a terrorist and/or the Anti-Christ.

The point is, while it was obvious that both of these women held decidedly strong political views, neither of them was doing their chosen candidate any favors by their actions.

Which brings me to the point of my story.

I love this blog. I love what it’s done for me personally. It keeps me writing every day, helps me figure things out, and gives me something to do besides my other hobby, eating.

Most of all, I love how it helps me stay connected with people from all over the world – my oldest friends like Moe and Nelson and DewMama and my newest friends like Susan and Dave and Pos.

But I realized this week that I’m no good at writing about religion and politics.

I’m offensive. A caterwauling shrew.

A caustic bitch, as my dear friend You Know Who lovingly calls me.

The fact is, like those two ladies from Susan’s stories, I’m not doing my politics or my faith any favors by writing about them here.

So I’m not going to talk about that stuff until I can figure out a way to do it without being rude.

I suspect the solution involves story telling. The best stories don’t beat you over the head with a moral – they sneak up on you, surprise you with how you feel, and offer lessons that can transform your life and your views.

Thanks, Susan, for sharing your stories. And thanks to all of you for staying with me for this long story.
~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Breathe Me - Sia
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Still learning

Monday, September 29, 2008

Bread and circuses

I went to the Bears game last night and, while I enjoyed it very much, I couldn't help but look out into the crowd of orange and blue and think about bread and circuses.

According to Wikipedia, it is Latin (panem et circenses): An ancient Roman metaphor for people choosing food and fun over freedom. It often appears in commentary that accuses people of giving up their civic duty and following whichever political leader offers to satisfy their decadent desires.

Biggest financial meltdown since the recession and we're screaming at the Eagles.
~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Off on Your Own - Al B. Sure!
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Tired

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Attention Dave & Pos

Get this, guys.

We've been censored.

I thought we lived in America. But in the Land of Moe, no dissenting opinions are allowed.

Moe has removed us from his blog roll. I discovered it this morning and sent him the following text message:

"You deleted my blog from your list. Nice."

His reply?

"Until after the election...I don't promote anger and bitterness."

Anger? Bitterness?

This, from the whiner who cries censorship if he has to wait more than five minutes for me to publish his comments?

From the guy who, just yesterday, was ready to sword fight with some nail-clipping schmoe in the sauna?

From a guy who nearly gets his ass kicked on a golf course because some golfer is taking too many practice swings?

Moe invented anger and bitterness.

So it's not surprising that he's also a closet Communist.

But Chairman Mao Moe has spoken. There will be no dissent in the People's Republic of Moe.

So what say you, comrades? Are we deleting him from our blogs, too?

Or are we gonna take the high road, be charitable, and show Moe what true blue Americans are all about?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: SNL
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Censored

Best quote re: Palin

"My cringe reflex is exhausted.”

This, from Kathleen Parker, a conservative syndicated columnist.

Me too, Kathleen. Me too.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Craig Ferguson
I am reading: Not much
And I am: Cringing

Friday, September 26, 2008

A fart in church

I didn't watch the debate.

I know.

I have priorities. And my good friends will always be more important than politics.

That said, I came into it at the point when Biden was offering his assessment of what transpired.

Then -- like a fart in church -- NBC's Brian Williams says: "Although invited, Republican Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin declined to comment so we have former mayor of New York City Rudy Giuliani here to give the Republican perspective on tonight's debate."

Heh?

Palin is sidelined and Giuliani (arguably the most liberal Republican on the planet) steps in? WTF?

Oh. Right. Did you see this? Maybe you didn't. Here it is again:



Honestly, my favorite part is when that wacky bitch says: "Our next door neighbors are foreign countries. They're in the state that I am the executive of."

Yep.

"They're in the state that I am the executive of."

A heart beat away from president and she's ending sentences with a preposition.

I could cry. Or laugh. I can't decide. Wanna debate?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Post-debate blah blah
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Confident

Thursday, September 25, 2008

I got me some foreign policy experience, too, dagnabbit

Just watch this moronic bitch and tell me she should be leading anything but maybe the annual Girl Scout cookie sale:



Hmmmm...reminds you of another video, doesn't it? Such as...



Furthermore, I grew up in Mt. Clemens, Michigan -- a town about 30 minutes from Windsor, Canada. I'm no beauty queen, but I guess that makes me an expert on foreign relations.

"You see, the Canadians, are uh, right over there and ya know, uh, sometimes their Canadian coins get mixed in with our U.S. coins, so I'm not only an expert on foreign policy but on international monetary policy, too. Except you can't use their coins in our parking meters, which is a real bummer, ya know? You betcha. Alrighty."

Fuck that. Cookies are too yummy and important to be trusted to this silly twat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Entourage
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Disgusted again, sorry

This side of the room

It’s your standard-issue dorm room. One of thousands on this mid-sized, Midwestern college campus.

Snug. Yet functional. With just enough room for two beds, two desks, a fridge, and a TV.

As for its occupants, they will struggle to share this space because they are worlds apart.

On that side of the room, it’s White Sox. And tits. No reading material beyond the required and ridiculously expensive textbooks. There’s a box of Kleenex on the shelf by the bed. It’s bland. Average. Orderly. Nothing at all extraordinary or unexpected.

But on this side of the room, it’s another story.

It’s Tom Wolfe and Hunter S. Thompson. A psychedelic poster graces one wall, a Fear and Loathing poster, the other. Pencil drawings taped above the bed. Empty liquor bottles stuffed behind the bolster. This side is delightfully – almost intentionally – cluttered.

These two kids are freshman. At the dawn of their professional adult lives.

Who are you betting on?
~~~~~~~~~~~
People like us – from this side of the room – don’t take the standard, acceptable path to get where we are.

Some people call us courageous. But following our own path has always been more about instinct than bravery.

Things don’t always go according to plan for us because, quite frankly, there is no plan.

We don’t always follow the rules. Because some of the rules are downright ridiculous.

We don’t learn from the mistakes of others – preferring to stir up our own share of fresh (often silly, always exciting) screw-ups.

What’s ordinary bores us. We’re drawn to everything sophomoric and irreverent and rude because it helps us escape everything that’s expected and typical and normal.

We’ve disappointed our parents and friends, teachers and bosses. But these are the same people who are still around, rejoicing the most when things go well for us, because they knew we had it in us all along.

We’re attractively normal looking (much to our disappointment and undying dismay) but are always more comfortable among the freaks on the fringes.

We’re scarred. But rarely scared because we’ve survived more than our share of self-induced shit.

We’re atypical addicts. Food, sex, drugs, booze – you name it, we’ve got it. But there’s no AA meeting, no counselor, no ‘Higher Power’ that’ll rid us of our demons because we know them so well, they know their place, and we genuinely enjoy having them around.

We know damn well why we do the crazy-ass shit we do – we’re often excruciatingly self-aware – but will rarely change because it’s what keeps us so alive, so lively.

We don’t talk much. When we do, it’s meaningful. It has to be. Our silence, coupled with our innate inability to follow anyone (ever) makes us reluctant leaders. We’re destined to disappoint our followers, too, but they’ll stay with us because we’re the only people honest enough to tell them the really right thing to do.

We’re happy to play The Fool – keenly, often uncouthly stating the truth when everyone else remains silently satisfied with lies.

We are also capable of great foolishness. But don’t be mistaken – we rarely suffer fools.

It could be intelligence. A bit of creativity. However, we believe it’s mostly some cosmic quirk that allows us to experience a little more success than most. We also know we’re quite capable of losing everything at any moment, so we tend to be more grateful than most, too.

We’re the kids from this side of the room. Bet on us.
~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Dissident – Pearl Jam
I am reading: The Pleasures of the Damned: Poems, 1951 - 1993 by Charles Bukowski
And I am: From this side of the room

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Traveling with Balzac

A few years before we were married, I met Jim in Paris for a long weekend.

It was a great trip -- he was in Europe for work and I got there a day early, visiting the Palace of Versailles by myself.

Once he arrived, we made a beeline to the Eiffel Tower. The next day, the Louvre. And a very memorable evening in Montmartre.

But the best part of the trip was an ages old cemetery called Pere-Lachaise. It was fascinating. Tons of famous people are buried there. Moliere. Proust. Gertrude Stein. Jim Morrison.


And the famous French novelist and playwright Honore de Balzac.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Speaking of Balzac, I sat across from this guy on the train yesterday.






















Hedy?

Yep. You bet I snagged a shot.

They were so impressive I felt like a tourist all over again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Purple Haze - The Cure
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Traveling with Balzac

Sunday, September 21, 2008

The Fictional President

If you were ever a fan of West Wing, read this amusing column from Maureen Dowd at the New York Times: Seeking a President Who Gives Goose Bumps? So's Obama.

"You were raised by a single mother on food stamps — where does a guy with eight houses who was legacied into Annapolis get off calling you an elitist?"

I sure miss Jed Barlet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Sunday house sounds
I am reading: Everything
And I am: Voting for Aaron Sorkin

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

How you know

Someone asked me this question the other day:

‘How do you know that you're in love?’

Great question.

I told her if she’d asked me 20 years ago, my answer would’ve been way different than today, but beyond that I’d have to think about it.

It’s been a few days and here’s my answer:

Beyond all the flowery crap, being in love comes down to two things: How you feel about what the two of you have in common and how you feel about the things you don’t have in common.
~~~~~~~~~~~
It's September. Nineteen years ago. And I'm deeply in love (the first time) with Jim.

It's a lazy Saturday afternoon and we're making out on the couch at a condo I share with two roommates. I can’t recall why we weren’t upstairs naked and abusing each other in all sorts of amusing ways, but anyhow.

“Look at that,” I say, coming up for air. “You have three moles in a triangle on your arm.”

“Yep,” he says.

“Look. So do I.”

This odd coincidence gets added to the short but growing list of things we were discovering that we had in common – right after a love of fast cars and out-of-the-way beer gardens and the raw, sinfully sarcastic humor of Sam Kinison.

The point is, back then we were looking for things that we had in common to reinforce the rather uncontrollable and irrational feelings we had for each other.

It was fucking hot. It was love.
~~~~~~~~~~~
At some point in the relationship, however, you begin to notice the differences again.

It happens right about the time the guy you love and share the odd polygonal birthmark with says he’s going to come over after a golf outing but decides to stay out partying with his buddies then shows up at your door at midnight wielding his whiskey dick.

The fact is, it happens.

You begin to come out of that initial euphoria and throttle back on noticing the things you have in common and start noticing the differences again.

If you’re self aware and not needy and/or co-dependant, you quickly realize either a) There are too many things that you don’t have in common for the relationship to survive or, hopefully, b) There are just enough things that you don’t have in common to keep things interesting for a whole lifetime.

That’s the extremely cool moment when you and your partner go from arguing about your differences, to laughing about them. It's when you go from loving all the things you have in common to loving all the things you don't have in common.

Then you’re in love all over again, only better.

Make sense?
~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Bad Things – Jace Everett
I am reading: Neil Steinberg at the Sun-Times
I am: Still here

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Push

Oh. Hey. That’s not good. He/she’s really struggling in that wheelchair. It’ll take hours to get anywhere. Should I go over? Wait. See if there’s someone. Nope. Nobody to help. What would Susan do? She’d definitely help. Don’t hesitate. Just do it. Okay. I’m doing it. Wait. Some disabled people don’t want help. Asking them is offensive. But he/she’s really having a hard time. Hey, if asking causes offense, at least you asked. You’ll regret it if you don’t. Remember: What would Susan do? Okay. Here goes.

“Wanna push?”

“Oh? Yes. That would be great,” replies the somewhat bedraggled and unshaven yet obviously grateful he.

“I live right there,” he says, pointing a gnarled finger at the poshy entrance of a high-rise condo building less than 20 feet away.

Disabled. Loaded. Yet no one to help.

Interesting.

Then, a rush of words as I wheel him towards home:

“I try to do this on my own but it’s hard and I’m not even supposed to be in this thing anymore thank you so much for stopping I really appreciate it.”

“Are you in physical therapy?” I ask.

“Yes, that’s where I’m coming from.”

“They sure beat you up, don’t they?”

“YES and they don’t give you any breaks, either, I was really sweated up today.”

“I’ve been there,” I say. “Were you in an accident?”

“Sorta. I had a heart attack and they gave me the wrong medication and I had a bad reaction to it and it put me in a coma for a while.”

I’m rescued from having to say ‘That’s terrible’ or ‘What a shame’ or some other inane comment because we’re at the entrance where a tall, impeccably dressed black man hustles around the security desk to open the door.

“Could you take me upstairs?”

“I can’t leave the desk,” says the security man.

“No, I was asking her,” says the man in the chair, thumbing his shoulder.

Silence of the Lambs. The creepy pupa dude asks the chubby chick to help him load a chair into the van. I’m the chubby chick. He’s not really disabled. It’s a scam and he’s gonna get me upstairs and starve me and make a swimsuit outta my skin and no one will ever see me again. Nobody even knows where I am right now, just walking back from lunch. But he's old and lives in this ritzy-titzy condo and the security guard saw me and he obviously needs help and oh what the hell, Heather, have a little faith in the universe for once.

“Sure.”

He’s Mike. I’m Heather. He’s on floor 9 please. The hallway is all polished hardwood and much darker than I thought it would be.

“Right over here,” he says.

My heart is in my throat as he struggles to put the key in the door.

Now. Now. NOW. If this is one of those scary Stephen King stories from your childhood, NOW would be the time when he leaps up out of the wheelchair -- transforming from a weak old geezer into a crazed psychopath with Super Human Strength -- and shoves you into his lair.

Serial killers have lairs.

Rich old cripples have condos.

I roll him through the doorway, careful not to cross the threshold.

“Thanks again for your help today,” he says.

“You’re welcome. Take care.”

And thank you for not being Ed Gein.

So.

Incredibly stupid? Or just every day kindness to strangers?

What would you have done?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: If I Ever Feel Better - Phoenix
I am reading: Salesforce.com stuff
And I am: Chubby and helpful

Saturday, September 13, 2008

The Washington Post does your homework

In case you're wondering which of our fine presidential candidates is going to raise your taxes, the Washington Post has created an excellent graphic that should clear things up.

Start on the left with 'Family Income in 2008 dollars' and locate your household's annual income below. Then slide your eyes across the grid to see what the two candidates have in store for your tax bracket. McCain is in red for Republican. Obama is in blue for Democrat.




















Surprised? Me too.

McCain is running ads claiming that Obama will raise taxes on the middle class.

Of course the Republican candidate believes 'wealthy' begins at $5 million, so it's easy to see how he'd think folks making more than $2.87 million per year are middle class.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"But Hedy, you can't trust the liberal media. They made up this graph to make Obama look good."

Actually, the Washington Post is known for its more conservative views.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yes, McCain's plan lowers taxes for everyone.

But here's what bothers me about this graphic: under McCain's plan, the percent decrease in taxes gets higher towards the top of the graph and goes down to practically nothing for people at or near poverty level.

I'm not a math person, but it sure seems like it ought to be the other way around. Do you know what I'm getting at?

0.2% of $18,000 amounts to dick. And 4% of $2.87 million is, well -- like I said, I'm not a math person -- but it's a veritable ass-load of money.

Call me crazy, but don't people with lower incomes need the higher percentages than people making millions of dollars per year?

Better still, why can't the tax cuts just be equal across all income levels?

"But Hedy, Obama is worse! He's raising taxes disproportionately on the wealthy and that's not fair, either!"

Agreed. Obama's plan isn't fair, either.

But I think we can agree that Obama's plan provides more significant tax relief for more of the people who need it most.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Of course, if you care about big issues like abortion or the environment or the war in Iraq, the Washington Post graph won't help you make a more informed decision.

But if you're willing to pay more taxes because your candidate can effect change on issues that matter more to you than money, then that's pretty cool.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"But Hedy, both of these plans are essentially bullshit -- no one really knows what'll happen once either candidate is in office. Remember Daddy Bush's promise about read my lips?"

True.

Put the numbers aside then. And look at the core of each tax plan -- which one provides more help to more people? What does that say about the candidate's intentions - whether the tax plan gets implemented or not?

What does it say about Obama that he wants to help regular working Americans keep more of their paychecks? And what will it do for our economy if a majority of people have a little more money to spend?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Blah blah blah, Hedy. I'm so fucking tired of this crap. I just want the new season of Heroes to start."

I know. It's exhausting. I'm tired, too.

But we gotta do this, people.

We gotta care enough about our country to make an informed decision on November 4. Now more than ever, your vote matters.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Sex and Candy - Marcy Playground
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Tired

Thursday, September 11, 2008

And he's a patriot, too

You know how I feel about Craig Ferguson.

Well, he took it to the next level Wednesday night with this monologue on 'our sacred right as an American' to vote.

Watch it. Register. Vote.

He doesn't care who you vote for and neither do I. Just do it.

And Craig? If you're reading this, CALL ME.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Silly evening news
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Enamored

Perhaps crazy

“You know you’re flying on 9/11,” I say to Jim this morning.

“Yeah, kinda weird,” he says. “But I’ve done it before.”

“I know, but isn’t it odd that there wasn’t any news about terrorist threats in the U.S. all summer? Not a peep. It would be just like the Republicans to lull us into a false sense of security and then BAM! There’s an attack on the anniversary of 9/11 and McCain wins in a landslide.”

“Yes, it would be just like them, wouldn’t it? Because you know George Bush was the one who actually ordered the 9/11 attacks.”

“I KNOW! See? So be careful today.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What does it say about the state of affairs here when someone like me – arguably liberal, but hardly a nut-job – is speculating on a government orchestrated terrorist attack in order to screw with the presidential election?

Well, you are kind of a nut-job, Hedy.

Right. Kinda.

But seriously, with the economy, the war, oil prices, and scandal after financial scandal, would you be all that surprised if Bush & Co. figured out a way to mess with the election?

Be honest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Clear skies across the country today,” said the weatherman on WGN. “A quiet day, weather-wise.”

When I think about that day back in 2001, the morning weather report is always the first thing that pops into my head.

A quiet day. Right.

Then I remember what happened the night before.

I’ve never told anyone this until now.

It was a normal night. I went to bed before Jim, like usual. I’m lying there, all cuddled in, when all of a sudden this overwhelming feeling of horror and grief came over me.

I couldn’t breathe, I was crying, and completely terrified. For no reason.

I understand now that it was a panic attack.

I’d never had one before. Or since.

There was no stress in my life, no reason for it to happen right then, and I guess that’s the reason why I remember it so vividly – because it was very, very out of the ordinary.

Now I’m not saying that I had a premonition or anything – of course no one could predict what happened that screwy, scary day.

But if it ever happens again, I’m hiding in the basement all day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An attack on the anniversary of 9/11?

Too obvious. People might expect that. Plus, it could reflect badly on the current administration and given enough time, people could blame McCain.

I know: Let 9/11 pass quietly and lull our clueless citizenry into an even greater sense of false security. Then BAM! Stage a Super Secret Strategery U.S. government-sponsored terrorist attack two weeks before the election.

The ultimate October surprise.

That close to the election, it’ll scare the crap outta everyone. Folks will be too busy mourning and praying and vigilizing that they’ll elect that great patriot and war hero John McCain in a landslide.

Yep. That’s it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hedy, you're officially crazy.

Perhaps.

Add that to the catalog of damage that Bush & Co. have done to this country. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Crazy – Patsy Cline
I am reading: An explanation of the Fannie/Freddie bailout by Steve Chapman at the Trib
And I am: A nut-job, kinda

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Lips and assholes

Straight outta the shoot:

"So have you ever put lipstick on a pig?" asks David Letterman.

"No," says Obama. "But it might be fun to try."

"The McCain camp has demanded an apology. They say you called Sarah Palin a pig."

"Technically, she would be the lipstick. The failed policies of John McCain would be the pig, following the logic of this illogical situation."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Another infernal Viagra commercial
I am reading: This guy
And I am: Craving hotdogs

On My Own

He’s away again this week.

He thought hiding the Bag of Eternal Gloom in the closet would keep me from figuring it out, but He was mistaken.

Because I am Gromit, Genius Dog.

I conducted a full investigation while He was showering and, upon discovering said B.E.G, proceeded directly to the middle of the floor in order to affect my very best Woe is Dog pose.

I’ve perfected it over the years. It starts with the eyes. Always the eyes.

It’s a withering glare, quickly followed by a brief, hopeful ‘You’re Not Really Leaving Me Alone with She Again’ glimpse.

Then, when I know I have He’s full attention: unimaginable, soul-penetrating Peepers of Grief.

If it’s allergy season, I can actually work up a few tears.

Of course in my life, there’ve been few exceedingly sad moments, so I try to imagine not being able to lick my wiener ever again. It works pretty well.

Then I flop down on the bed, carefully positioning my hindquarters so that’s all He will see upon exiting the bathroom. As soon as He is within earshot, I let fly The Whole-Body Sigh. In truth, it’s more of a groan than a sigh and often can be heard in the next room.

It’s highly effective.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“It’s Wednesday, Gromit,” She says with more enthusiasm than ought be allowed before 7 a.m.

“He’s coming home tomorrow. And Grandma is coming to visit you today.”

I respond with one of my more advanced maneuvers: The Sigh, quickly followed by a Roll Over and Face the Wall combo.

Don’t get me wrong, Nobody’s better than She when it comes to leg massages and ear scratches. And She is the Queen of the Butt Rub.

But my whole standard of living goes down when He’s away.

For example, upon returning from my morning constitutional, I expect breakfast accompanied by fresh water in my bowl.

He knows this. I suspect it is because He is a man, although He doesn’t lick his wiener ever, which is unsettling, since wiener-licking is without question the greatest joy of being a member of the male species.

Anyhow.

He knows the schedule. He sticks to it. After eight years, He ought to.

She, on the other hand, is always fiddling around cleaning things and doesn’t get to my food before I’m at the door, with my Terse Bark, demanding to be let in.

And that’s another thing. I never have to break out the Terse Bark with He. He is always at the door, waiting to let me in. Better than a garage door opener, He is.

“Sorry Grom, let me get that for you,” She says, as if sorry makes up for having my entire day ruined because of a flagrant schedule violation.

Then, with nothing more than a Bye Grom, Love You Dog, Be a Good Boy, She leaves.

Be a Good Boy. As if I have a choice. As if I could be anything else.

And it’s only Wednesday.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Those damn morning doves on the chimney
I am reading: Nothing, She never brings the paper in, either
And I am: Dog of Woe

Thursday, September 04, 2008

Waffles, anyone?

Okay, Sarah Palin is a lying little bitch. With a stinky crotch.

Well, maybe not that last part. But she's no good with the facts, that's for sure.

Please read this. And this. Oh, and this.

This is why we should never rely on our 'feelings' when it comes to political candidates. We need to investigate their background, their accomplishments, their ethics.

I broke my own rule. Never again.

Also: Here's a huge, heartfelt apology for Taxman. I'm sorry, sir. Feel better.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: The rain
I am reading: Mists of Avalon by M.Z. Bradley
And I am: Feeling much better now

Wednesday, September 03, 2008

Big Red Boners, Laying Pipe: A Special HedyBlog RNC Update

I like Rudy Giuliani. I once thought he could be the next president.

But his speech at the Republican National Convention sucked.

He talked about terrorism. Because it's the only thing he's capable of talking about.

Sadly, somebody forgot to tell him that nobody cares about that stuff anymore.

It's 2008 -- not 2001 -- and I'm sorry to bring out this tired old Clinton-era phrase, but it's about the ECONOMY, stupid.

I don't know anyone who's worried about terrorists. But I know plenty of folks scared shitless about the economy.

It's not "Boy I sure hope Al Qaeda doesn't come back."

It's "Boy I sure hope I can make my mortgage payment this month."

We're not afraid of terrorists attacking our buildings, we're afraid of a very real, imminent threat: The shit-ass economy attacking our way of life.
~~~~~~~~~~
On the other hand, Sarah Palin was great.

She talked about laying pipe and drilling. And white, gun-toting men across America saluted her with a collective Big Red Boner.

Seriously, I didn't want to like her.

But she's genuine and tough and interesting. And, God bless her, she's capable of giving a roiling political speech without sounding like a caterwauling shrew.

She confronted the issue of experience head-on and in some respects, kicked 'community organizer' Obama to the curb.

Sure, she was a little disingenuous talking about the 'pride' involved with her 17-year-old daughter's unplanned pregnancy, but what the hell.

Oh, and then there's this: With a new special needs baby and an unplanned grandbaby on the way, was it right for her to accept the nomination for VP? What about her family? How will she manage all of this?

"Nobody's asking Barack Obama how he's managing his family while running for office, so it's not fair for us to question her decision to take on the role as VP, Hedy. It's sexist."

Bullshit.

Asking the question isn't sexist, it's honest. Because let's face it: Moms do everything. Dads are great, but Moms think of - and do - practically everything. It's what they do.

And that is precisely why I think Sarah Palin would make an excellent vice president.

She reminds me of the amazing, dedicated, where-the-hell-do-they-get-the-energy moms I know. There are a bazillion unsung Sarah Palins out there right now who care enough to get involved in the PTA and on school boards and in local governments to make a difference not only for their own kids, but all kids.

We need more strong, dedicated people like her getting involved in government so they can do the same kick-ass job for our country that they do for their families and their local communities.

Plus, she talked about laying pipe. Which is sexy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: I Am Woman - Helen Reddy
I am reading: Mists of Avalon by M. Z. Bradley
And I am: Probably not voting for McCain, but this new chick has made it really fun to think about

You wanna know

"You wanna know why I like you?" says my chiropractor this morning.

"MMMmmm?" I reply, face down on the table.

"Damn, that's it? I was really hoping you'd help me answer that question."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Bad 70's music
I am reading: The Mists of Avalon by M. Z. Bradley
And I am: Damn fuck shit hell hurty again

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Spam

"Please fuck me this is not a joke"

It's rare that spam gets my attention anymore, but this subject line prompted me to open the e-mail Right Away.

My mind was racing during the Michael Phelps millisecond it took to click, then load. Could it be...Craig Ferguson? Someone with a yet to be identified life or death medical condition? Moe?







Nope.

Turns out it was someone named Melodyxkon2 inviting me to chat via Yahoo messenger.

Hmmm. Melody. xkon. 2.

Enticing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ever get a spam e-mail you just HAD to open? Are you still getting spam?

The only reason I even see spam anymore is because of Yahoo - it was the first personal e-mail account I ever opened and is only used now for placing orders on-line or for signing up for news sites that require a login.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So what'd you do with the e-mail, Hedy?

Sadly, I had to forgo a humorless roll in the hay with the tuneful two-time felon.

But I know just the guy who would LOVE that sort of thing.

Click. Forward. Send to: MoeWanchuk@ElitistHornyPigs.com.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Gromit breathing
I am reading: The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley
And I am: Not falling for it again

Friday, August 29, 2008

But wait

And this one's entirely unintentional from Paul Begala, a Democratic strategist, on CNN.com:

"In choosing Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin to be his running mate, he is not thinking 'outside the box,' as some have said."

Yep. Outside. The. Box.

Brilliant!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Heart Shaped Box - Nirvana
I am reading: Henry VIII
And I am: Rolling

Miss Alaska

Regarding McCain's pick for VP:

"It's a coup de twat."

"Great to see another woman with a 'crack' at the presidency."

I sure love this country.
~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: What I Got - Sublime
I am reading: Not much
And I am: Amused

That’s great, but

“He gave a great speech last night, Hedy,” says Da this morning.

“Now do you understand why I like him?“

“He said everything we wanted to hear and more. If he can do half of what he says he can do, he’s a miracle worker. I’ll pray for him.”

“That’s great, but will you vote for him?”

“Ah. I don’t know about that.”
~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Like a Prayer - Madonna
I am reading: Neil at the Sun-Times
And I am: Happy

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Great day

"It's a great day," said the cab driver, winding his way through Chicago, helping me get to Union Station. Helping me get a little closer to home.

"It sure is," I say.

"Obama is our candidate for president," he said.

"He sure is."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Listen.

I realize I can't convince any of you to vote for Obama. And that's okay.

Even if he doesn't win, tonight changed everything.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Obama in Denver
I am reading: Henry VIII by Margaret George
And I am: Elated

Getting it straight

Thanks for all the great comments yesterday.

My favorite was submitted by brave little Anonymous. I was really hoping someone would pick up on my disingenuous jab at McCain. Thank you. Whoever you are.

"Let me get this straight. You're not contesting that the man spent extra time in a POW camp because he refused to leap-frog other POWs and accept an out-of-sequence repatriation offer...But you are questioning his motivation for doing so? That truly saddens me."

Confession time.

I don’t actually believe that McCain passed up a Get Out of Hell Free card for political gain.

I can believe a lot of bad things about politicians – hell, John Edwards and his wife were willing to jeopardize the entire democratic process earlier this year – but I don’t believe McCain was focused on anything beyond surviving his time in Hanoi.

Really.

Here’s my point: How is what I said any different from the right-wing whack-jobs claiming Obama is a Muslim terrorist?

The fact is, both are extreme, ridiculous claims with no basis in reality or fact.

But if my pseudo-cynicism about McCain saddens you, then good. As that brainiac Bush would say, Mission Accomplished.

Because what saddens me more than anything is when people don’t bother to investigate the facts before spewing garbage about political candidates.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Songbird - Fleetwood Mac
I am reading: The Autobiography of Henry VIII by Margaret George
And I am: Sad, too.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Two choices

The way I see it, you have two choices: You can vote for McCain – a tired, angry old man who represents the party that plunged us into the worst economic crisis of our time, not to mention a war based on nothing but lies and greed that has killed thousands of American soldiers.

Or you can vote for Obama – an intelligent, patriotic young man who represents a break from politics as usual, a break from our disgracefully racist history, and a break from an economic policy that has helped the rich get richer over the past eight years.

But Hedy! Obama will tax the crap out of our businesses. If we don’t elect McCain, companies like mine will simply shut down.

Bullshit.

All of the brilliant Bush/Cheney tax cuts for the wealthy and tax breaks for big business have done what for us? C’mon. They’re economic morons. Admit it.

The Republicans – who claim to really understand finances, ironically enough – have done nothing but increase our debt and lower our standard of living since they’ve been in office.

But go ahead, vote for McCain if you want more of the same.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hedy! You call Obama patriotic when McCain is the veteran and former POW? Shameful! Show some respect!

Yes, being a veteran is the ultimate patriotic trump card, isn’t it? McCain deserves respect for the sacrifices he made for our country. No question on that.

However. Being a veteran is not the only way to define what it means to believe in your country.

Because of Obama’s history – because of his heritage – and because of his accomplishments, I believe that he understands more about what this country means to regular folks like you and me, than McCain ever could.

McCain is just like Bush. He got where he is because of his family, because of the privileged life he lead, and ultimately because of his connections (and don’t get me started on what uber-wealthy wife #2 has done for him.)

I know, I know.

As a POW, McCain could’ve used his connections to get out earlier than the rest of his men – he chose not to. Maybe because it was the right thing to do. Or maybe because he didn’t want it coming back to haunt him in his political career. We’ll never know, will we?

Obama got where he is through good old-fashioned hard work. And intelligence. And a willingness to make sacrifices to make a difference in the lives of others. He believes in everything this country stands for because he’s lived it and benefited from it and ultimately, his children will benefit from it.

Being a patriot isn’t something you can inherit. It’s not something you can assimilate by simply knowing the right people.

It’s an effort.

And as far as patriotic efforts go, McCain and Obama are more than equals.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hey.

Vote for McCain if you want more of the same.

It almost has the same ring as 'Be a Moe Ho'. I like it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
But I’m a one-issue voter, Hedy. I’m pro-life. And McCain is my man.

Okay. What has the Republican Party done for you on that issue, really?

They’ve held more sway over the Supreme Court than the Democrats, by far.

And yet Roe v. Wade still stands.

Here’s my theory: Republicans love, love, LOVE you pro-lifers because you’ll give and give and give ‘til it hurts in hopes that abortion someday will be illegal again.

It ain’t happening. As long as abortion is legal, people like you will support Republicans, who care more about being re-elected than about the Right to Life. But go ahead, continue to support these folks. Sure.

To summarize: The Republicans take your money and do nothing.

Don’t you want to at least give the Democrats a shot at taking your money for a change? Who knows what could happen? And you’d be no worse off, that’s for sure.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I stopped forwarding you stuff about Obama so we won’t argue,” says Mom this morning.

“Like what?” I say, knowing what’s in store.

“Well, that he’s a Muslim.”

Sigh.

Like I asked Mom, I’ll ask all of you: Please, please focus on what the candidates say and not what others say about them.

And please, rather than relying on the endless stream of crap forwarded from people too lazy and too shortsighted to care about the truth, do your homework.

Care more about your country and your way of life than to trust it to anonymous, fear-mongering assholes who have a vested interest in keeping things just the way they are by keeping you desperate and afraid.

I would also ask that you focus on what’s really important. Things that will have a direct impact on your family, your work, your lifestyle, and ultimately your freedom.

Things like our piss-poor economy. The deficit. Our antiquated energy policy. The war in Iraq. Healthcare. The environment.

I don’t give a fig if Obama worships the God of Bacon Bits and Oreos.

Is he more capable and more committed than McCain when it comes to making a difference for you and me? Yes.

Two choices. Care enough to make the right one. Please.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Walk This World - Heather Nova
I am reading: Neil Steinberg
And I am: Worshiping the God of Bacon Bits and Oreos

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Hillary

She always sounds like she's reminding us to clean our room.

Whether you like Obama or you're a total Moe, you have to admit Barack's way better than Hillary.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: "CLEAN YOUR ROOM!" Clinton
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Grateful

The way it's meant to be

When things are good, it's easy to forget how miserable you were.

Walking into the office today, I remembered that dark and dreadful feeling I'd get going to that other place. It was a smokey, dirty, depressing and dysfunctional environment. Not to mention the fear of getting screamed at for no reason every day. Hard to believe I lasted six months.

Now I walk into my clean, airy, fun, positive office -- with no worries beyond how to do more today than I did yesterday for these fine folks. Better still, we're not only growing, but thriving, in spite of the crap economy.

Since it was entirely serendipitous finding this place, I'm noodling lately on how everything happens for a reason and how (perhaps) being in this new place was meant to be.

It seems like everything finally clicked back into place when I came here. This is a feeling I've been waiting on for nearly four years.

Have you ever had that feeling? That ahhhh, sigh-filled feeling when everything goes back to being right and good again? Maybe it was when you had your first child. Maybe it was when you found your spouse. Or the right job. Or a house that finally felt like home.

That's where I am right now. And it's cool.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: The Way Life is Supposed to Be - Bob Schneider
I am reading: Nothing much
And I am: Joyful

Monday, August 25, 2008

C’mon, how much?

“C’mon, how much you making these days?” he’d ask. “C’mon. How much? Just tell me.”

And then: “What kinda car you driving these days? C’mon, tell me. Tell me.”

My first reaction? “What difference does it make? Why is this so important to you?”

But eventually he’d wear me down, I'd wince and tell him.

It happened every six months or so – much later, I realized he’d only call after receiving a raise or promotion, or after getting a new car.

It always was important to him to know where he stood in relation to me – a twisty little competition he’d created between us since childhood that was mostly amusing but occasionally downright irritating.

We don’t speak much anymore. I’m not sure why.

But I don’t miss the competitive aspect of our relationship at all. And I wonder how happy he is, constantly measuring the 'things' in his life against others.

To me, the better questions have always been: What have you been up to? What is new? What excites you about your life? How’s your family? How are the kids? How's work?

If you’re going to count anything in life, it ought to be your blessings above all else.

Right?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What’s the rudest question anyone’s ever asked you? And how did you respond?

Beyond the whole salary/vehicle thing, here are a few more of my favorites:

Are you pregnant?
How much did your house cost?
Is that your real hair color?
How about a blow job?
Are those your real boobs?
Are you a professional?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Are you a professional? Why is that rude, Hedy?

Well. I was in a club. Dancing.

"HEY, that GUY just asked if I was a PROFESSIONAL," I yell to Nelson over the music, beaming proudly, thinking the dude meant professionally trained dancer.

"STRIPPER, Hed. He thought you were a STRIPPER."

Oh. Right. Rude.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Everything Counts – Depeche Mode
I am reading: Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine
And I am: Counting my blessings

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

The devil craves Vicodin, the angel takes Advil

"Would you like some Vicodin or Codeine for the pain?" asks the young and lovely Dr. Patel at Urgent Care this morning.

TAKE IT. YES. YOU NEED VICODIN. YOU LOVE VICODIN. VICODIN IS YOUR FRIEND. GET THE VICODIN. NOW. GET IT. NOW.

That would be the wily little devil camped on my right shoulder.

Now, Hedy, the Advil is working just fine. You don't need anything stronger. And do you really want the temptation of Vicodin, which Jim calls your Bitch Pills, in the house again? Remember what you went through getting off that stuff after your knee surgeries? Be smart. Be like Nancy Reagan. Say no.

Imagine harp music playing while the angel buzzing my left ear talks me down from the splendid and tempting offer for heavy drugs.

"No, thanks, the Advil is enough," I say, with a tiny bit of regret.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Well, we almost made it two years," says Jim just now.

Yep. Injury-free for almost two years.

Tip: If you're going to fall and would like to maximize your embarrassment/horrification, do it right outside Union Station during rush hour where everyone congregates on benches.

If I hadn't been so shocked by suddenly sucking on the sidewalk, I would've leaped up and yelled "TA-DA!"

A few friendly tourists helped me up and offered me beer.

"How could you tell they were tourists?" asks Jim.

"Well, they had British accents and...they helped me up and offered me beer."

So I have a bruised bone at the base of my thumb. It's covered by a nifty black wrist brace, for broadcasting my bumbliness.

And the angel is doing back flips while the devil is flipping me off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Angel to You, Devil to Me - The Click Five
I am reading: My interview with Playboy's EVP of Interactive
And I am: Taking Advil

Thursday, August 14, 2008

A jolly rogering

Here at HedyBlog, we're all about excellence in journalism.

And cock jokes.

So whether you're large or small, thick or thin, you'll say God bless Jan Vinzenz Krause, inventor of the spray-on condom.

Have you heard about this? It's called Jolly Joe.

Apparently ill-fitting condoms are the scourge of the $300 million willy wrap industry.

I seriously wouldn't know.

The closest I come (shaddap) to a condom these days is putting on the nifty rubbery case for my iPhone. It's a sick, twisted little thrill. And I do it as slowly as possible. Gently slipping the case over the hard edge, giving it a fun little snap to secure it in place...

Whew. Okay, I'm back. Sorry.

So Krause - who Time magazine compares to Edison and Ford - invented spray-on condoms.

Yep. Edison and Ford. Time Magazine.

All hell's breaking loose in Russia or Atlanta or whatever. It turns out the ancient Chinese secret is "Lie about everything, who gives a fuck, we're communists."

And leave it to Time magazine to make a headline out of protecting your cock from crotch rot.

I'm not even going to say it. It's too easy. Okay, I can't resist.

When it comes to hard news, Time is like a sore wiener: You just can't beat it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
However, all is not well in the land of the sealed penis. Apparently the latex takes two to three minutes to dry.

More than enough time for Mr. Peeper to lose his pep, if ya know what I mean.

But no worries, ladies. Krause - who says he "felt a little like MacGyver" created clever packaging so you can diddle while your dude dries. Brilliant.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just a side note on the Olympics: We've got Tancock and Beavers fighting it out in the Men's 200-meter individual medley tonight.

Again. Excellence in journalism, folks.

Clapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclap.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: "Beavers ends the race on top of Tancock..."
I am reading: Not much
And I am: Playing with my iPhone again

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

That's my classy wife

From: Heather
Sent: Tuesday, August 12, 2008 2:25 PM
To: Jim
Subject: Hi

Looking forward to our date tonight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On 8/12/08 2:32 PM, "Jim" wrote:
Me too
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From: Heather
Sent: Tuesday, August 12, 2008 2:35 PM
To: Jim
Subject: Re: Hi

I got my digital picture frame working finally
It’s very nice. Thank you. xoxo
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On 8/12/08 2:59 PM, "Jim" wrote:
Well that’s good
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From: Heather
Sent: Tuesday, August 12, 2008 3:01 PM
To: Jim
Subject: Re: Hi

Are you okay? Are you disappointed because you’re not coming downtown tonight?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On 8/12/08 3:09 PM, "Jim" wrote:
No I am in a meeting
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From: Heather
Sent: Tuesday, August 12, 2008 3:11 PM
To: Jim
Subject: Re: Hi

Ahh well then fart poop shit ass piss. Ta-da!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On 8/12/08 3:15 PM, "Jim" wrote:
My laptop is on the projector
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Pump Up the Volume - M-A-R-R-S
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Classy

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Here's the deal

Yesterday’s entry on alcoholism caused more of a stir than I imagined.

All of your great comments helped broaden my understanding of why alcoholism is, as Taxman says, ‘a strange genetic curse.’

Having grown up in a family where alcohol was literally non-existent, I can’t begin to know what it’s like living with an alcoholic.

I do know that it means a cycle of profound pain and anger and disappointment and grief for those touched by it. And I’ve seen how that deep, in-your-bones brand of hurt bruises generations because it changes people and their relationships and their view of the world.

But here’s the deal.

Anytime learning about a topic takes me from a place of anger and judgment to a place of compassion and understanding, I feel like I’m growing a bit and doing my part to become a better citizen.

I wrote on this for one reason and one reason only: Because Neil Steinberg’s book Drunkard transformed my perception of alcoholism. This is a Very Big Deal, as Mom can attest. She was shocked by what I wrote because we’ve argued repeatedly (and sometimes rather loudly) about the alcoholism/disease thing over the years.

Beyond the small miracle of changing my narrow opinion about alcoholism, Neil’s book has me assessing our family history to determine if we’re at risk of allowing it to ruin our lives. It's entirely possible. And it is frightening.

Again, I can't imagine what Neil's drinking put his wife and children through. But his book helped me understand that alcoholism isn't about wanting to hurt your spouse or family, it's about your body and your brain making it damn near impossible to avoid hurting them.

And that kind of pain is simply unimaginable.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Starry-Eyed Surprise - Paul Oakenfold
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Relaxed

Monday, August 11, 2008

Drunkard

Maybe you know someone with a drinking problem.

They’re fun – way fun – until they’ve had too much alcohol. Then they become abrasive:

“I HATE YOU!”

Or emotional:

“I LOVE YOU!

Or silent:

“ . . . !”

Which implies they HATE you or LOVE you – something for you to ponder whilst they’re barfing on your Blahniks.

It’s become a clichĂ©, but the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and over again expecting different results. So why do these people keep getting hammered all the time?

Neil Steinberg’s book Drunkard helped me finally – finally! – understand alcoholism.

If you’ve known me for more than 10 minutes, you’re aware of my unhealthy yet purely intellectual crush on Neil Steinberg – brilliant, balding columnist at the Chicago Sun-Times.

But here’s what you probably don’t know: Neil is an alcoholic who got drunk and smacked his wife a few years back and spent a night in jail because of it.
~~~~~~~~~~~
I sent this email immediately after reading about the incident in, of all places, the Chicago Sun-Times:

Hi Neil,

Just thought I'd tell you: You are who I wanted to be when I grew up. Hang in there.

Heather S.

This reply came five minutes later:

Heather,

A drunk who assaults his wife? Still, thank you for the kind words.

Neil
~~~~~~~~~~~
Hey Hedy. You drink. Probably more than average.

Hell yeah, I do. I’ve had three Jack and Cokes as I’m writing this.

And I’ve been known to get hammered and whip my top off in the Gulf of Mexico in broad daylight. But that happens MAYBE once a year, tops.

We’re social drinkers. We rarely drink during the week other than special dinners out and NEVER to excess. And we tend to tip a few on Fridays and/or Saturdays but RARELY to excess.

We drink to relax – and if you’ve ever been really, really, really drunk – you know it is perhaps one of the least relaxing things you can do. So we know how to manage it and keep it fun and most importantly, safe.

Here’s the difference between us and alcoholics: We never NEED to drink. We WANT to drink.

And that is precisely what puts us at the most risk for eventually becoming alcoholics.

It creeps up on you. Alcoholism.

This is one of the big lessons from Neil’s book.

One day you’re a happy go-lucky social drinker, the next day you’re snorting vodka fumes from an empty mini-bar bottle and abandoning your 9-year-old son at the library to hit the liquor store up the block. Or you’re hitting Billy Goat on Washington for a boozy little breakfast to take the edge off before walking to work.

Somehow your typical one or two glasses of wine on weeknights is no longer Nearly Enough and once you start drinking, you can't stop until you pass out in bed, waking up hung over as hell and dreading work, yet somehow itching to do it again As Soon As Possible.

It’s frightening. Disturbing. And it’s genetic.

It happened to Jim’s dad. He was a social drinker. Then he retired and started drinking every day and pretty much didn’t stop until he died. He started to need it. It changed who he was.

That was Neil. He examined his life and realized that at some point he went from wanting drinks to needing them.
~~~~~~~~~~~
“Tell me I’ll never have another drop of alcohol my whole life and it’s fine. Tell me I’ll never have Ruffles Sour Cream & Cheddar potato chips again and we’ll have a major fucking problem.”

That’s me. Still.

Yet I wonder if someday I’ll reach the point where whiskey replaces chips on Hedy’s hierarchy of needs. I wonder.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Three Jack & Cokes, Hedy? What’s up with that?

I wrote this several Wednesdays ago on the train ride home after meeting a group of former co-workers for celebratory drinks. The last time we were together the three of us were miserable and searching for new jobs.

Miraculously, we’ve all landed in delightfully pleasant places and THIS is cause for great celebration.

A three Jack & Coke celebration to be exact.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt from Drunkard:

“Have you ever looked back on a period in your life – a year, a week, an hour – and said, ‘I wish I drank more? Have you ever looked back at an event and said, ‘You know, that was fun, but I just didn’t drink enough?”

Jonathan laughs, shaking his head. “Never.”

“Exactly. So why look forward and despair at all the drinks we’re not going to have in the future when the truth is, once we’ve lived through it, we won’t miss them at all?”
~~~~~~~~~~~
Cancer is a disease. Parkinson’s is a disease,” I’d say. “Alcoholism is NOT a disease.”

I was wrong.

Reading Neil’s book helped me understand the way an alcoholic’s brain works. The compulsion to drink is a physical, genetic condition involving the CREB gene. You can read about it here.

This is going to sound insane – and you cancer survivors can beat me up about it – but I’ve come to believe alcoholics have a tougher path than people with ‘traditional’ diseases like cancer or Alzheimer’s or ALS. Perhaps it isn't fair to compare. Suffering is suffering, right? But still.

What the fuck, Hedy? Worse than a three-year-old with a brain tumor?

Yep.

Here’s why: Cancer patients get treatment. They get drugs. And most importantly, they get compassion.

Alcoholics have AA. And will power. And they are essentially alone in their battle to stay sober.

Try telling a cancer patient to ‘rely on your Higher Power’ and ‘take it one day at a time’ to get healthy and they’ll tell you to Fuck Right Off.

But that’s what we tell alcoholics. And if you’re an agnostic, well, it especially sucks.

“Let me get this straight. My only hope for staying sober is to rely on some religious bullshit I stopped believing when I was 12? You’ve gotta be kidding. I need a drink.”
~~~~~~~~~~~
Of course, a lot of what’s involved with battling alcoholism is mental.

I’ve recently had the pleasure of getting to know someone who hasn’t had a drink in 15 years.

Not because he had a problem. No.

Because his father was an alcoholic. And he realized if he didn’t stop drinking completely, eventually he would have a problem, too.

So he stopped. Isn’t that cool?
~~~~~~~~~~~
Read Neil’s book if you’d like a better understanding of why alcoholics do the batshit crazy things they do. Read it if you’ve always been skeptical about Alcoholics Anonymous and the whole higher power thing.

Don’t read it if you want a juicy, emotionally charged account of Neil’s battle back to sobriety. He’s a journalist. Plus, he just ain’t that kinda guy.

And the jury’s still out if Neil is the sort of guy to stay sober.

I don’t know and I get the feeling from his book that he doesn’t know either. I do know his book helped me have a better understanding of alcoholism.
~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Rehab – Amy Winehouse
I am reading: Neil at the Sun-Times
And I am: Glad I read Drunkard by Neil Steinberg

Friday, August 08, 2008

Vote Moe

Dear Moe,

With all the whining you do, it sure seems like you’re not satisfied with your work/life these days.

I have a solution.

If there’s any justice in the world, Detroit will be needing a new mayor very soon.

You are perfect for this job.

You’re frugal. You’re a hockey fan. You certainly have the pedigree.

And you’ve been itching for an excuse to get back home to the ‘hood.

I know at least three people who’d vote for you right now. By the way you owe me $9.

Just think: You’d be able to stop all of this incessant complaining AND finally put some of your brilliant political ideas into action.

I’m sure the people of Detroit would find it refreshing to have a compassionate, generous soul like you leading their beleaguered city out of its current shit storm.

Plus, you’re always complaining about how much it costs sending your kids to that fancy-schmancy school – Detroit schools are notoriously cheap. In fact I’m pretty sure it’s the only district in the nation where wiping your ass with an outdated textbook is not only encouraged, but required.

Of course there’s the whole power/sex thing, too.

Mrs. Moe won’t be able to keep her tiny hands off you once you’re in office. (Just had an a-ha moment here: I figured out why you married a small woman – it makes Little Moe look ginormous. Nice going.)
~~~~~~~~~~
A few thoughts on campaign slogans:

Be a ho, vote Moe!
Shaddap and vote for Moe
Moe: He ain’t black but he’s willing to learn
Vote for Moe or my buddy Degrande will kick yer ass
Moe: Cheap. Horny. White.
Moe: Not nearly as bad as that last douchebag
Moe: Too cheap for texting
Quit yer whining. That’s my job. Vote Moe.
~~~~~~~~~~
A word of warning, though. Politics can get ugly.

Keep in mind that even seemingly small things – like leaving the American flag off your hybrid go-cart, for example – can and will be used against you. But I’m sure you know this, being such a huge fan of Fox News and Rush Limbaugh.

So whaddaya say, Moe? Mayor of Detroit.

Do it for the citizens of that sorry-ass city. Do it for your family.

But most of all do it for your faithful fans who’d love to see you quit belly-aching and actually do something for a change.

Hey.

Moe: Do Something For a Change. Perfect!
~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: The Star Spangled Banner
I am reading: Neil in the Sun-Times
And I am: a Moe ho

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

Wonderful

For you wake one day, look around and say: "Somebody wonderful married me."
~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Married - Cabaret soundtrack
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Blessed

Saturday, August 02, 2008

Mine goes to 11

Just when you think the world can't surprise you, there's this from -- ironically enough -- the Land Down Under:

Australian doctors warn against 'designer vagina' craze

I refuse to actually read the article for fear of being caught up in this muff-related mania.

Seriously.

Isn't keeping up on skirt lengths and hairstyles worrisome enough for us fashion-impaired types?

Now I have to think about couture for my cootchie? C'mon.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Okay, I had to read it.

And I'm all "WHEW!" and then "THAT'S CRAZY!" and then "OUCH!"

Apparently this latest craze is about surgery for 'vaginal rejuvenation, revirgination, designer vaginoplasty and G-spot amplification.'

G-spot amplification? Amplification?

Is there a knob somewhere? Does this mean there's a mute button, too? Who knew?
~~~~~~~~~~~
But Hedy, you had a boob job. Would you deny women the opportunity to improve their quality of life through surgery?

Tits are one thing. You just don't mess with the muff.
~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Pink - Who Knew
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Having t-shirts made