I Looooooove it!

I like putting emphasis on certain words when I write or talk. I think it helps to get my point across and every now and then I REALLY enjoy an all-caps word.

There are times when I like to draw out a word for emphasis. I might just want to let someone know that I really like a movie or book by saying that I just looooooooooved it. The 'o' sound is drawn out.

But every darn time I get on Facebook, people are just loveeeeeeeeeeing stuff. That just doesn't make sense to me. I loveeeeeeeeeeeeeeee with the 'e' drawn out just irritates the hell out of me. The 'e' is silent to begin with, why would you draw it out?!?

Am I just being picky? Now that could be read as piiiiiiiiiiiicky or pickeeeeeeeee. But not 'love'. It's not loveeeeeeeeeee. Stop making it that way. Now.

Good Housekeeping?

Those of you out there that know the Housewife, know her thinking on housework. Oil and water. I hate it all. I've never met a domestic chore that I like.

After a good couple of weeks in the studio, the Housewife had to make an appearance today to scrape off the crud.

I've included photos. Be damn glad I didn't take a "before" photo of the toilet.

What the heck is a laundry hamper? p.s. this is only a small portion of the dirties.

Which one is the dust bunny and which is the cat toy?

Answer: since I dug them both out from under a table,

they are both dust bunnies and according to the cat, the one on the left is more fun.

After laundry, bathroom cleaning and sweeping, I moved onto dusting. Somehow, it is a less productive use of time than watching paint dry. A complete waste of time, and I do know a great deal about wasting time. Dusting trumps all time wasting (non)activities.

And we're not even going into cooking. The Housewife does not go there! My cooking is generally unsatisfying and often dangerous to people and property. I've been relegated to clean up activities in my house.

And, hell, I just realized there's some ironing to do.

My blood pressure is up. Me feelings of adequacy are down.

How did those housewives of the past not just drop it all and run out in front of a bus?

Well, its lunch time. Soon all of this will be behind me for the next three weeks as the sh#t piles up around me once again. I'm going to enjoy wallowing in it. Until I don't.

Hey Paleface

Bigoted jackass, central Pennsylvania

It’s taken me a few days to get around to writing this. I’ve been dreading even thinking about this again, but here goes.

Each Wednesday afternoon, I take my daughter downtown for her ballet lesson. Then, for an hour, I loiter in the public library. Sometimes I peruse the new books, but usually, I bring a few things I need to catch up on. Like a good little writer, I always have a notebook and pen with me. Unlike a good little writer, I rarely put what I have in my notebook onto my blog. Each week, I encounter some type of strangeness at the library, and I always tell myself I will blog about it when I get home. There are thousands of stories in the library (excluding the ones in books), and sometimes there are so many choices of characters, that I can’t settle on one to write about. Until now.

I had seen this guy once before, as he almost ran me and my daughter down while leaving the library. This day he settled into a chair in front of me and I could see his backside in all of its glory.

Today, the asshole arrives wearing a red T-shirt. The same one he wore the last time I saw him. He sits down at a computer station, pulls out a plastic bag and spits into it. He carries with him a great variety of things: a large jar of juice, tote bag, extra clothing, and a Confederate flag. And the shirt – well I don’t know what is written on the front, but the back reads, in large white letters, “KEEP AMERICA WHITE.” He wears a baseball cap covered with buttons. One button is for Penn State, which is crossed out with a handmade red “X.” A Confederate flag button, several others than I do not wish to get close enough to read, and, naturally, one with a swastika. He completes the outfit with camouflage pants, a wardrobe staple of society outsiders.

So, here in the public library, is a walking potential hate crime. My entire body shakes just being near this person. I wonder just what the hell this intolerant bastard is looking up on the computer. How to make explosives. How to tie a noose. Checking his Google stats on his popularity among white supremacists. I’m guessing that this man has been on earth for at least forty years. I cannot believe that someone who would carry their hatred on their sleeve (and tote bag and hat and . . .), would not have committed a hate crime in all of those years. Someone has no doubt suffered at the hands of this man. I’m suffering just by looking at the back of his hateful body.

Hands trembling, I took a photo. I expected him to turn around and eat me upon hearing the iPhone cute photo-taking noise. I packed to leave unscathed. It was time to pick up my Chinese daughter from ballet. I’m just assuming he wouldn’t appreciate a bit of yellow mixed into his filthy whiteness. I’m glad that my daughter was not here to see this. Would it have been a hate crime to beat him with my umbrella? I so wanted to borrow a Sharpie marker from the librarian, write “Keep America Free from Asshole Bigots” on my own shirt, stand in front of him and clear my throat. However, I don’t think I could have managed that without throwing up. And I would have so loved to decorate his racist face and shirt with my lunch.

There’s always next time, I guess. And with a conveniently located public library, I’m sure that time won’t be too far off.

Hearing Crickets. . .

I'm guessing that is what my readers are thinking about my blog lately. I've been negligent. I could say I've been tending to other matters, but the fact is, I've been wasting as much time as usual on useless stuff.

I'm trying to enjoy autumn. It's beautiful here in Central Pennsylvania right now (and I so rarely say that). But this year is just not the same. I keep thinking back to this time last year. Sometime during October I went to visit my parents, not knowing it would be the last time I would see my mother in her own home.

Right now, the weather is beautiful. The windows are open and I'm listening to the crickets chirping. I hear footsteps shuffling through the leaves. Halloween is not even on my mind yet, but I am already dreading winter.

It's a long winter in these parts. I'm sure there are some Canadians out there rolling their eyes, but really . . .

I'm going to need some help getting through this winter.

Somebody, please help me think of something positive about 5-6 long, cold months. Please!

Oh, Hell No!

Sometimes, when I get bored, I Google my name.

Or if I really want to know what people are saying about me.

Regardless.

I was bored and curious so I Googled and discovered that a member of the Tea Party has my name.

The horror!!

I'm off to bathe and exfoliate and brush and floss and possibly treat myself for lice.

Brother Can You Spare a Dime*

*Or how about just 9 cents (for every dollar)

Yesterday morning, I went to the computer to see the news of the day. The hubby had apparently been up earlier and pulled up an article on GOP presidential candidate Herman Cain’s 9-9-9 plan. One would think that this would just be 666 upside down, but no, it’s much much much worse.

This oh-so-simple plan changes the corporate tax rate from 35% to 9%, swaps out the six-tier personal income tax system for a flat rate of 9% and creates a 9% national sales tax.

So who’s going to be paying for this country? Ah, the wealthy like to say that the country was built on their backs. They feel so responsible for the general prosperity of this country. Up until now. Since corporate heads and the wealthy (yeah, they’re pretty much the same) are going to be let off of the hook for putting gobs of money into the tax system for schools, police, roads, defense and all of that other expensive, government-provided stuff, who will have to pay for most of this? The working poor. And the working middle-class who are sliding their way downhill and landing on top of those working poor. Since the wealthiest 1% of Americans control 42% of this country’s financial wealth, each individual in that lower 99% will be doing most of the grunt work.

Those lowest on the working totem pole are paying 10% of their personal income in taxes. I guess there will be a bit of savings if that goes down to 9%. Think of what all of that extra money will buy. Perhaps these people will now be able to afford health insurance if their employer does not provide it. Yeah, I know. I was just making a joke. Now, if there is a nine percent national sales tax instead of personal income tax, any extra bucks are going to be snatched out of the hands of our poorest people. Herman Cain understands this. He knows that these people will be responsible for their own-decision making. He states his plan will be helping them out tremendously. Hey, you poor folks need a winter coat. That’s a good decision. Go on and buy one for every member of your family. And now, give the government an extra 9%. You don’t HAVE to buy those coats you know. Cain’s plan is here to help you responsibly make decisions. If you decide you don’t have the money, don’t spend the money. Ain’t Cain great? Cain thinks this plan will give Americans more freedom. What do you think?

What I did not see addressed in the 9-9-9 plan was what effect the national sales tax will have on individual state taxes. Will this replace the state taxes? I don’t think that’s what the states want. Each state varies in taxation on food and clothing. Will we be paying a national sales tax for these subsistence items? And what about those additional city taxes? Will these be eliminated or just tacked onto the national sales tax? How much are we going to be paying for each purchase in taxes?

Our country sees taxation as a crime. Our tax system has even been compared to slavery. Herman Cain, an African-American, has stated that our tax code is the 21^st century version of slavery. Does this make anyone other than me afraid of a hemorrhage? What the hell? Does this man know what slavery is? Didn’t any of his ancestors pass down some stories? My dictionary states that a slave is: a person who is the legal property of another and is forced to obey them, or a person who works very hard without proper remuneration or appreciation. It looks like definition two fits Cain’s 9-9-9 plan. Definition number 1 seems to be a perfect fit for one who is free to fuck over thousands of employees and purchase yachts and diamonds and designer clothing and mansions. Right?

It seems that those days (years actually) of the great depression have been forgotten, much like the proper definitions for slavery. Yep, some of you have heard of that depression when people lost their homes and money and jobs and other such insignificant items. Actually, there are millions upon millions of Americans that are struggling with that now, right under the noses of those who will do anything to avoid paying their taxes. The greatest tax burden is borne by those on the bottom of the financial ladder. The poor and middle class are paying the greatest amount for others in similar situations. The taxes levied on the lowest paid individuals are going to pay for the education, police, roads, public transportation, food stamps, social services, etc. for other individual in the same financial boat. In other words, “Brother, can you spare a dime.”

Under Cain’s plan, it’s not only the poorest people that are asking for a little financial help from others, but the wealthiest in this country are asking the poorest, “brother, can you spare a dime.”*

*Actually, that just nine cents (for every dollar) under Cain’s plan.

Here are the lyrics from that good, 0ld-timey depression-era song:

They used to tell me I was building a dream
And so I followed the mob
When there was earth to plow or guns to bear
I was always there right on the job

They used to tell me I was building a dream
With peace and glory ahead
Why should I be standing in line
Just waiting for bread?

Once I built a railroad, I made it run
Made it race against time
Once I built a railroad, now it's done
Brother, can you spare a dime?

Once I built a tower up to the sun
Brick and rivet and lime
Once I built a tower, now it's done
Brother, can you spare a dime?

Once in khaki suits, gee we looked swell
Full of that Yankee-Doodly-dum
Half a million boots went sloggin' through Hell
And I was the kid with the drum

Say, don't you remember, they called me "Al"
It was "Al" all the time
Why don't you remember, I'm your pal
Say buddy, can you spare a dime?

Once in khaki suits, ah gee we looked swell
Full of that Yankee-Doodly-dum
Half a million boots went sloggin' through Hell
And I was the kid with the drum

Oh, say, don't you remember, they called me "Al"
It was "Al" all the time
Say, don't you remember, I'm your pal
Buddy, can you spare a dime?

E.Y Harburg and Jay Gorney

U R rly psng me off

Maybe I'm being a little too bitchy.

Could be because I rarely text and never twitter.

But holy crap, I can't take it when people cannot be bothered to type out words!

If you can't take the time to properly text or email me USING FULL WORDS, then I'm going to assume you really don't give a shit or your message is completely unimportant. I will not read what you have to say. If it's more difficult than reading Shakespeare, then I'm not going to do it.

I will not bother to figure out what the hell it is you are saying.

You. √

Ewe. √

U. Absolutely not. Unless you are making a U-turn. Or, if you must, driving a U-Haul.

And then there's R. Spell it dammit.

What is it that you are really trying to say? That you are too important to waste time typing (non)extraneous letters. That you are illiterate. That I am not good enough to read full words. That you are actually trying to piss me off.

What's even worse is trying to read teenage slang written in this freakin' code. I've got no chance of interpreting that, not that I really want to. It would be nice to understand my nieces' Facebook posts, but, well, I'm just too damn cranky and old so I'll just have to remain in the dark.

Am I the only freak left on the face of the earth that actually likes words? There are so many great ones: alleviate, Ethiopia, tangerine, Bossa Nova, sprocket, Alaska (until it was tainted by politics).

Am I in this boat alone?