Magpie Brain

Things grab my attention
And won't let go
Even as I flit to the next thing
They hang on.
Other things just get stuck in my craw.
And then there's all the crazy shit that goes on around me.

One.
I listen to NPR and think in the shower. Yesterday as I shaved my legs, I fretted about the people we know in Australia. Were they near those devastating wildfires? FranIAm has the update. Thank you, Fran. Now I can go back to fretting about Jessica Simpson's unfortunate wardrobe choices and practicing singing Red Hot Chili Pepper songs in the shower so I can ace them on Rock Band at the expert.

Two.
A few days ago, Kay posted about her miscarriage. A commenter, anonymous, of course, made some hideous statements about hoping that Kay had learned her lesson about "sleeping around." I was so stunned by the callousness of this commenter who clearly thought he/she was doing some god's work by making such inhumane remarks. I want to make a deal with my religious friends - I will continue to tell my atheist friends to not call you a bunch of superstitious loons if you promise to smack "religious" people around when you see this kind of thing sullying your faith. It's going to take all of us calling bullshit on this kind of intolerance to get past our differences. Thank you.

Three.
Of course Kellogg's would go all priggish on us and cancel Michael Phelps' endorsement because he was caught smoking weed. This comes at a very inconvenient time for Golden Manor. You see, we just stocked up on Kellogg's products because we had coupon build-up. And Kellogg's products were on sale at Publix. So here's the thing - we want to participate in the protest/boycott of Kellogg's. But what do you expect me to do? Leave the boxes of cereal to go to waste? Take them back to Publix? Can you really see me standing in line at the customer service to return Apple Jacks and Pop Tarts?

Don't count us out, though. We're going to boycott from here on. And I've instructed The Spawn that when they do eat the Kelloggs' products, they are NOT to enjoy them and they are to do it with bitterness in their hearts and a very angry face.

I'm doing what I can here, people. And I don't even smoke weed. You read this blog - you get peeks inside my hamster infested brain. I ask you - how would weed enhance this?

Four.
I was fully prepared to shout at the television tomorrow morning when I got my masochistic freak on watching Morning Joe. But this time I had some perspective. The shouting, though ineffective as usual, was oh so much more gratifying.

Five.
Willis blogs. Oh yes he does.

Six.
I found some old journals. Hoo boy, can't wait to see what kind of revelations can be found amongst the whining about old jobs and the perceived horror of being a twenty-something married chick before children. I'm afraid if I really go back and delve into them, I might owe some people big,fat apologies for long forgotten slights and misdeeds.

Seven.
Cupcake has a new name again. We're going to call her Garbo here on the blog. Along with hating school and making herself throw up, now she's got a thing about wanting to be alone. Alone, of course, means in the master bedroom with the good television and crumbly foodstuffs that leave nasty gifties in the bordello bed.

If she keeps this crazy up, we're going to call her Sybil.

She spent all Sunday rotting her brain watching America's Next Top Model. When MathMan sent her to bed, she protested with the kind of vigor reserved exclusively for television-related tantrums. MathMan held firm and directed her to bed. A bit later, his cell phone rang. I watched him across the desk as he answered, a bemused look on his face.

"Daddy...." I could hear Garbo's sweetest, most cloyingly precious voice from where I sat. He smiled as he listened briefly to her pleas. When they reached a crescendo of television withdrawal screechings, he said calmly into the phone, "Listen to my answer...." and then he clicked his hang up button.

I roared with laughter. I'm sure Garbo could hear it from down the hallway where she was probably standing at her door, waiting for her daddy to cave in and say 'Of course you can go watch that stupid program just so I can have some peace and quiet.'

It's always worked before. This new resolve is not sitting well with Garbo. A few seconds later, MathMan's phone rang again. He rejected the call. This time, a text message came through. Turns out, it wasn't a text. It was a picture.....

Her mother ought to tell her that her face is going to freeze like that.