Saturday, March 22, 2008

Basketball And Boy Crushes

Don't ask me where this came from. Just look at it.

Have you ever seen anything like this? I stopped dead in my tracks because as I passed it, I actually did a sitcom-style double take, with head snap and mouth agape.

Maybe I'm reading into it. Let me take another look.

Nope. I was right. Those kids are douchebags.

First of all, I get it. They want kids to not be such sports-obsessed assclowns, like most of our country. Fine. Great sentiment. But they're actually putting kids in danger showing them images like this. You bring a book into a locker room at any level above 4th grade, and you're likely to get a beating. On general principle.

You add to that a little bit of latent "I-think-I-like-girls-but-I'm-not-sure-because-I'm-still-more-
comfortable-around-other-boys" and now you're walking into a hate crime. I mean, doesn't that kid with the glasses just remind you of a gay Lucas? Not that there's anything wrong with a young boy exploring himself with the help of some sweaty friends. Far from it. But what this poster ought to say is this:

There's A Time And A Place For Reading And Finding Out You're Gay. This Isn't It.

Now Get Out There And Kick Some Pimply Ass.

THAT would be a great poster.

And I'm sure someone could make the stupid-ass argument that they're reading a sports book. Well that's just dumb. And you're dumb. So shut up if you thought that, because you're dumb and dumb people shouldn't talk.

I'm just trying to look out for the kids.

The List

"The List" basically refers to anything that bothers me to the point of repeated awareness. Not a momentary annoyance, or a passing perturbing, but something that on several occasions has proven itself to be a serious thorn in my side. As readers of SisterKissing may recall, one of these things is being woken up too early.

So as readers of this blog already know, I was graced with the arrival of a nephew this week. What readers of this blog don't already know is how this information came to be known to me.

My brother-in-law, fully understanding the person I am, and respectful of what little time I have to myself in the quietude of undisturbed slumber, brilliantly waited until he knew I was already awake to give me some pertinent information on the big day. We often talk early in the morning, but he knows when I usually get up, and while I am the furthest thing from a "morning person" (in fact the very idea of "morning people" makes me want to load up the nearest shotgun and start putting smoky, bloody holes in said individuals), I am fairly functional at some point, and as such, this is when he and I usually talk.

My own mother, on the other hand, has a God-given gift for rousing me in the most aggravating possible way, so that my rage is at full boil before I've even left my bed. She is so practiced at it, that I secretly suspect she saves up these moments and chooses to loose them on me when I am at my weakest, thus relieving her of my full retribution.

Though I have repeatedly, and on many occasions politely asked her to refrain from calling me before she knows I am awake to ask inane questions, here and there she will do so. Granted, the gravity of this particular situation is not lost on me. The birth of the first grandson, the first child for my sister, the first anything, is a big deal. I get it. Really I do. But the 20-minute window we're about to discuss would not have thrown the universe into upheaval, and I would have a few more intact blood vessels in my eyes/head than I do at the end of this week.

I usually get up at about 6-6:15 a.m. Which is WAAAAY earlier than I ought to be getting up, but it's what I have to do. It's not really fair; I have no crops to tend, nor am I a morning workout person (aka lunatic). I HATE getting up this early. In fact, the only thing I hate more than getting up this early is getting up even earlier, and not being able to fall asleep again, thus squandering beautiful sleep. I received said phone call, a phone call that could have easily waited 20 more minutes (as evidenced by the slightly later call from bro-in-law), to inform me that she and my dad were going to the hospital, and also served as an inquiry as to what I was doing. Barely alive, let alone able to form coherent thoughts and vocalize these thoughts, I barked some kind of answer, enough to quell her interest, and get me off the phone.

Of course, now, with just 20-25 minutes that I could be enjoying the warm embrace of my final moments of slumber, I am awake, tired, groggy, and cursing like a sailor who just slammed his thumb with a hammer. I am suddenly aware of every ache, pain, pore, and hair in/on my body. I am spitting bile and venom and would have eaten a newborn baby in front of its mother, despite the fact that I was about to celebrate just such an event. I mean, seriously, I was pissed. I don't care if I just won the friggin' Powerball. It can wait. I don't care if Jesus is fighting Godzilla on a meteor that's hurtling toward the Earth's surface on a perfect trajectory to destroy me in my bed where I lay, LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE WHEN I'M SLEEPING.

It's the only place I can really, truly, be happy, after all, where I can fly, and surf all the time, and drink all the whiskey in the world without so much as a slurred word, let alone alcohol poisoning. I'm charming, don't have love handles, speak perfect Japanese, and exact justice on no fewer than a billion evildoers each and every night. As Ralph Wiggum said once, famously, "Oh boy - sleep! That's where I'm a viking!".

Yes, Ralph. Yes.

I couldn't justify going back to sleep only to be furious when I had to get up moments later, and I REALLY did not want to get up having just looked at the clock. I was caught, locked in the eternal struggle between responsibility and sleep lust. I can't remember being that angry that early in the morning. Well, I can (it was when Elle almost ring-a-ding-dinged her way to a severe beating).

I mean, of course I forgot all about it when I got to the hospital and the excitement of the day finally sunk in, but seriously? My mom almost caught a steel toe in the cheek. She had no idea how close she came. Because nothing is cooler than beating up your mom.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Judgment Day Looms Ever Closer.

Even on this most awesome of days, when my family welcomes a new tiny life into the world, we must remain ever vigilant against the rise of the machines.

Never surrender.

Awww... he's so cute, though!

Monday, March 17, 2008