Because I want to be one of the cool kids...

Spotted this gem at both Breda's and Tam's places...

Created by Oatmeal

Apple Fanbois?

Here's one for you... Alan and Breda in particular, rocking the iPhones.. :D




Note: No, this is not a PC-lover hating on Apple fanbois. Not at all. If I had the money, I'd totally get a Macbook. They're nifty. I just giggled at the song is all.

Self Defense

The subject of carrying a gun and self defense in general hit home last night.

Redhead was on his way home from hanging out at Country Kitchen with some friends and stopped in to get cigarettes at a store less than a block from our apartment. He left the gas station and began walking through parking lots to take the most direct route to our apartment.

Three guys jumped him right next door to the gas station. One pulled a gun and the other two shoved him to the ground and take everything out of his pockets. Once they took off down the alley, Redhead ran home and called the police.

The cops were out in force last night, and we only discovered why this morning. In addition to mugging the Redhead, three other girls were jumped on their way home. The guys that snatch and grabbed them fit the description of the cum-stains that attacked Redhead.

They snuck up behind each victim, spun them around, pointed a gun at their face while two guys with masks on grabbed purses, bags, wallets, iPods, whatever was had on them. They even asked the Redhead if he had any pot before taking off down an alley. We suspect they live in a house that backs up to the alley, for the cops never saw them come out, and they were all parked with headlights on both ends of the alley. Some friends say that a guy matching the description of the man with the gun, wearing no mask, lives in an upstairs apartment in one of those houses, and is known to act like a wanna-be thug with a chip on his shoulder.

Best we can figure is they thought Redhead was a girl, being built small with long hair and a shoulder-bag for carrying books in. They took his bag, his wallet, the iPod that I had just given him, and ran.

I moved out of Houston to escape this kind of shit. I figured life would be a little safer for a girl in a small town in the middle of nowhere. But with unemployment on the rise, so is the crime rate.

Ladies, please. For the love of all that's holy, if you have to leave at night, even in a decent neighborhood, don't walk if you can avoid it. If you have to, try to go armed, or don't go alone. There really is safety in numbers. Try to keep your eyes peeled and look for signs of suspicious activity, people lurking in the shadows, what have you.

The world is not a safe place. That message was quite clearly hammered home last night for me and my family.

New Toy

So, I got this nifty little toy, thanks to the fever I caught from some cool people.

I bought an iPod Touch. And I must say, it is an awesome little gadget. All the power and capabilities of a laptop computer, the price of your average netbook, and conveniently sized to fit in my left butt pocket.

Can't argue with that.

I am thoroghly enjoying myself playing with it. Facebook, IMs, IRC, and a fuck-ton of nifty little pleasure apps, most of which are free.

I like the touch screen. After playing with it for a solid 8 hours yesterday, I got a text message, and started tapping the screen of my phone... Only to get embarassed when I remembered that my phone was not a touch screen and there was a keyboard there for a reason.

Yeah. I are geenioos.

These things are totally worth the money you spend on them, though. If you buy one, I heartily recommend getting at least a 32 gig iPod, for space fills up fast, and before you know it, the base model 8 gigs is full.

Go. Get one. Spread the fevah.

PS - yes, I did just post this from the new shiny. I am such a tech whore.

Cute Kid Pic

I know, I have been lax in giving you your weekly addiction of adorable baby pictures. Life's been a wee bit on the crazy end of the spectrum, but Daniel woke me up early this morning, so I've got time before class to post pictures for all you lovely people.

Ready? Set? GO!


FLYING BABEEEEEEE!! And the look on his face is priceless. Freaks out while he's in the air, but once Daddy catches him, he's all giggles and smiles.


Don't worry, the bottle was empty. I set it down after I finished it, and when he reached for it, I went to rinse it out before giving it to him. No worries there.


Apples! Which I have to watch when I give to him, because even in big chunks like that, he'll bite off a piece and then choke on it.


Back to work, peons! You've had your pay for the week, now GIT!

My Brand Of Parenting

Overheard in a conversation on Yahoo Messenger with the lovely NinjaMedic:

NinjaMedic: you know,I just love it when my kids restart the router without telling me
Snarky: Throw a shoe at them
Snarky: lol
NinjaMedic: it just makes my fucking night.
Snarky: Is it sad that I can't wait for Daniel to be big enough to do shit like that?
Snarky: "Why you throwing stuff at me?!"
NinjaMedic: I yelled instead. they said 'oh. sorry'
Snarky: Cuz you're being a little shit head!
NinjaMedic: hahahah!
Snarky: You're just like your father. Now go brew me some coffee.
NinjaMedic: haha!
Snarky: "I'm six, I don't know how to use the coffee maker!"
Snarky: WELL IT'S TIME TO LEARN, BITCH.


I win. NinjaMedic shot coke out of her nose.

Haiti

As you are all aware, Haiti was devastated by an earthquake, killing thousands. The people are reeling in the aftermath, and lack of assistance, be it nutritional or medical or what-have-you, is part of the problem.

Some ways that you can help:

• To donate $10 (billed to your cell phone) to the Red Cross' earthquake relief fund in Haiti, text the word 'Haiti' to 9099.
  
• To donate $10 (also billed to cell phone) to the Clinton Foundation Haiti Relif Fund, text the word 'Haiti' to 20222.
  
• To donate $10 to the International Medical Corps, text 'Haiti' to 85944.
  
• To donate $5 to the International Rescue Committee, text 'Haiti' to 25383.

MattG makes a good point here:

Look, I'm a poor man. And, I'm a pragmatist. I've got mine, you know?

But I'm sitting here in my climate-controlled sun room, drinking decent coffee out of a clean glass, typing away on my magic elf box. My stomach is full, and I'm about to register for Spring 2010 grad school.

I may be a "poor man," but I ain't really hurtin'.

And, if you're reading this, neither are you. You're reading this on your computer or your super phone or your netbook or your cybertronic feed or whatever. You're probably seated comfortably. You probably aren't too worked up about where you're going to get your next sip of clean water.

If you've got a few extra dollars to spare, help out some people who truly are in need. Lives depend on it.

Nanny State Goes To School

Remember when you were in high school or college, some years ago? Remember how, if you couldn't do the work, you didn't get the grade? Or if you couldn't take good notes, you failed on the test? That required tutoring, or remedial classes, or seeing the teacher during office hours to try and learn where you fucked up?

Not anymore!

Here at the UCM, we want everyone to be able to pass their classes. We want to make getting a college education as easy as humanly possible for everyone involved, even if it means lowering the standard, or letting under-educated people get jobs with a degree they honestly don't know how to use, because they couldn't do the work.

The Office of Accessibility Services is here to save the day!

What has brought this lovely rant to the surface just happened in my Elementary Algebra class. Yes, I'm in elementary algebra. Why, you ask? Because I hadn't taken a math class in six years and had no SAT scores to place me in a class that was my level. So I'm taking the elementary classes to get up to speed and to serve as a refresher course for my school-atrophied brain.

I'm taking Elementary Algebra II. The first half of the course was last semester, and almost all of the students in II were there with me in I. It's very, VERY basic stuff. And when we started the class on Monday, our professor told us, "For the first two chapters, you are not allowed to use calculators, unless you've gone to the office of Accessibility Services."

We're doing integers: positive and negative numbers. You know, 3+(-4)=-1. Basic shit. Also with variables in it. Solve 4a+3b when a=4 and b=-6.

IT AIN'T THAT HARD, FOLKS.

Anyway. We're going through another section in the chapter, doing example exercises, and I glance over to see a woman only a few years older than me with one of those monstrous TI-83 calculators. I raise my hand.

"Professor, I thought you said for the first two chapters, we weren't allowed to use calculators?"

"Oh, well, Student Such-and-Such is registered with the office of accessibility services. She needs it."

"...On what grounds?"

"ADHD."

It's official. You have ADHD? Cool, you can bypass all the rules for a class and do what you need to. In high school, it didn't matter what you had. You either found some way to make ends meet, or you flunked the class and took it over.

Also available from accessibility services, if you qualify: a note-taker, for someone who "just can't focus". So, while I'm busting my ass to take notes and be able to pass a class, I can look at the girl next to me who's texting her baby-daddy about going out to get drunk tomorrow night, and it's no problem for her, because she has someone else to take notes and pass. And if she fails the class anyway? Five to one says she can appeal to the head of the department due to her "disabilities".

I'm being a real college student, and not relying on some fake-ass disability to make life easier for me. I'm getting an education for a degree I can USE. The people that need to cheat and rely on perks from their "disability" to pass a class will be useless in the real world, unable to do basic math in a business environment.

"But I need a calculator to figure out how much of these meds need to go to the patient!"

Fuck you, and your calculator.

Can't Sleep. Clowns Will Eat Me.

Didja miss me?

I thought so.

Sorry I haven't blogged lately. Went to Texas for a week with la familia, and when we came back, there was a weekend-long scramble of getting prepared for classes that started Monday for me, return to daycare for Daniel, and return to work for Ben. And then, yanno, the week of getting back into the swing of classes with new professors, new subjects, and new classmates.

Whoo.

Anyway. I was a genius earlier and fell asleep while playing me some KOTOR on a friend's borrowed Xbox 360 (I gotta get me one o' them, they're fun), and stayed asleep til 9 PM.

Yeah. No sleep for me.

So, time for some late night blogging. Proverbial counting sheep, as it were.

Besides, I know you're just DYING to hear how Texas went, and how my spawnling is doing. Yeah. You are. Don't lie.

Well. Let's start.

Hm.

To start it all off, this was Daniel and Redhead's first commercial flight. Redhead had only gone up in a little two-seater Cessna when his cousin had first got her pilot's license, and that has been some years ago. He'd never even set foot in an airport before the trip down to Texas, specifically Pasadena.

This was gonna be fun.

Redhead's older sister, Hippie Sister, took us halfway to Kansas City, where Redhead's mother picked us up to cart us the rest of the way. Many hugs were had at the airport, with Mom admonishing us to have lots of fun and take lots of pictures! Of course, I promptly forgot my camera at the townhouse most of the time, so not a lot of pictures were to be had. Sad face.

Never having been in an airport, much less flown, Redhead did not know of the joy of going through security. Empty pockets, take of jacket, take off shoes. "My shoes?!" Yes, sweetie, your shoes. Wait for TSA Dood to wave you through, walk through metal detector. Daniel and I went through with nary a blip, but Redhead's necklaces set off the alarm, so he had to back up and go through it once more.

Finally made it, juggling diaper bag, fat babeh, big puffy leather jacket, and my boots, trying not to topple over on my way to a bench. Of course, even sitting down made putting myself back together, because I couldn't exactly put Daniel down. He'd either fall over on the bench and roll off, and I wasn't going to put him on the floor and have every snotty old lady within ten miles berate me for bad parenting. I don't take kindly to that kind of nonsense, nosirree.

Finally got everything back together, and on our way to the gates we went! Then we sat. And sat. And sat. Oh hey, our turn to get on the plane!

We found seats near the back of a very full flight, with Redhead immediately going for a window seat. He didn't want to miss a thing! It was like watching a little kid: very excited, VERY animated. He loved the feeling of taking off and the sharp banking as we circled upwards, gaining altitude. For a bit, anyway.

Daniel handled flying better than Redhead did. Once we hit cruising altitude (for all of fifteen minutes, maybe?), he was fine. But going up or going down made him nauseous as all hell, and I made sure to keep a barf bag handy... just in case. Daniel just bounced and played, and didn't want any part of either a bottle of formula, nor a bottle of juice. Just chew on the nipple and he'd be happy.

Taking Daniel out into a crowd with that many people was cute to watch. I lost count of how many people stopped to comment on just how CUTE he was, whether in the airport or actually ON the plane. Makes Mommy proud, that does.



I mean, how can you argue with something THAT DAMNED CUTE?!?

Now, a note on our itinerary: the cheapest flight we could find for two adults with an infant in the lap, because we is poor young adults, one of which is a college student... We had to change planes in Chicago. Yes, I know what you're thinking. "Wait. Flying from KC to Houston, and you had a stop in CHICAGO?!" It's madness, it really is.

The plan was land in Chicago, refresh ourselves and change diapers in the hour between flights, and be in Houston by 9:30 that night. No big deal.

We touch down in Chicago, and two gates down was where we were supposed to board the next plane. On the way to the bathroom, I see that our connecting flight has been delayed by two hours. So, overall, we were stuck in Midway airport for three. Hours.

FAIL.

Not to mention that, since we had checked the weather and knew before leaving that it was supposed to be nice and balmy, in the 50s all week in Houston, so we didn't take any of our heavy winter gear. No gloves, scarves, hats, extra hoodies for jacket lining, nothing. And Redhead and I both smoke, so we took turns sitting with the baby to go outside to burn one before plane time.

When I took my turn, I was huddled in a corner out of the wind, smoked ONE cigarette, and when I came back in, the first two joints on all my fingers were BLUE.

BLUE, PEOPLE. BLUE.

Srsly fucking cold.

Also, somewhere in there I made a call to my mother, Ducky, to inform her that our plane was delayed. She needed to know, since she would be the one picking us up from the airport.

Much creative swearing later, I hung up. We waited some more, and FINALLY boarded the plane. FINALLY.

I had told my mother I would call her as soon as our tires hit the ground, since she lives close to Hobby, where we were flying into, and she could be outside by the time we got our bags and got out. And I did.

I like flying. It's a fun experience, for me. I just hate airports. Just thought I'd throw that out there. I'm sure many of you agree with me.

Navigating an airport that's busy at 11 PM is not fun. Doubly so when you have a very tired, very cranky infant. But, we made it to baggage claim, grabbed the big duffel bag Redhead and I were sharing and the carseat we had checked, and outside we went, my eyes peeled for the silver Mazda my mother drives.

Just as I spot her car sitting still behind people loading, she calls me. "Should I circle back around again, or park and come find you?" Stay right where you are, Ducky, we're coming to you.

Without warning, her doors are thrown open, and she jumps a little, squeals at seeing her grandbaby, and pops the trunk to put duffels in. She told me she was afraid that after having so many people around him, and not to mention not seeing Gramma Ducky in close to five months, she was terrified Daniel wouldn't remember her.

She need not have worried. She smiled through the back windshield at him while we were loading the trunk of the car, and his entire face lit up.

Before heading to Granny's townhouse, the paternal grandmother whose house I had grown up in, we stopped at Mamaw Wendy's, my maternal grandmother who chainsmokes and drinks beer all weekend long. Yeah, I come from that stock. Explains a lot about my sparkling personality, don't it? Lulz.

Daniel got hugged and bounced and generally spoiled rotten, when Ducky's phone went off. Big brother, Animal, was at the bar a few blocks away, and would appreciate a ride home. It was after midnight, on New Year's Eve, so everybody was starting to file out of the bars that close at 1 AM, and VERY drunk Animal needed a ride. Daniel stayed with Mamaw Wendy for more spoiling, and Redhead and I accompanied Ducky to go pick up Sir Drunk.

Animal was deep in conversation with someone of the female variety when we got there, so we ordered a round of drinks and waited. When he realized Mom was there, he rejoiced in the ecstatic way that only drunks can achieve, and again when he saw me. Laying eyes on Redhead, whom only my mother and younger brother had ever met, his face contorted into a savage scowl, and he snarled, "Who the hell are YOU?!?"

Animal, this is Redhead. "Oh. You're the carrot top." He then got much ragging for not being enough of a gamer geek and never having watched Science Fiction Theater 3000, or whatever the hell that show was. I don't know.

After drinks were consumed, back to Mamaw's we went, where little Daniel watched Animal like a hawk. He did not know what to think of the big drunk guy. After a bit of watching my mother carry Daniel around on her hip, I told her. "Put him down." What? "Put him on the floor, Mom." Giving me a strange look, she did as she was bid, and Daniel took off at a very fast crawl after my grandmother's cat.

Rejoice, for he doth crawl! He wasn't doing that the last time any of them had seen him. They were VERY happy to see he had progressed so far in the time since they'd last seen him. He has such a personality, and as I'm sure I've mentioned, he's so damned cute it's ridiculous.

The night wore on and on, and everyone was exhausted, so we said goodnight. Daniel was going to be staying with Mom for the night, because she had not had a chance to move the crib to the townhouse, and Redhead and I would be staying with Granny and Ginormous Little Brother. We made it in around 3 AM, collapsed in the full size bed my brother had abandoned for the night, and slept until almost noon, with no infant to wake us at asscrack o'clock.

The next morning, or afternoon, whatever you want to call it, we woke up just as I heard my little brother downstairs ask Granny, "When do you think they'll wake up?" I called down that we were awake now, and we shuffled downstairs to fill ourselves with coffee and step outside for a cigarette.

The rest of the week passed in a blur, with a few notable moments:

• Taking Redhead to Galveston. He had never seen the ocean, much less seagulls or pelicans or a sandy beach, and I had to rectify that. He fell in love with the island, and asked me, "If we move down here, can we live in Galveston?" Um. No. Rent's hella expensive, and it ain't worth it. He loved chasing a seagull on the beach, and picked up a handful of seashells that actually washed in from the ocean, ya'll.
  
  
• Palm trees. There were looooots of palm trees, which Redhead had also never seen. He was like a kid in a candy shop every time he saw one. "Look! Palm trees! Can we have one?"
  
  
• Shooting with one of my #GBC buddies, Tomcat. He hosted us at his range, and let Redhead and I shoot til he ran out of ammo. Glock 30, a little Ruger .22, and two AR-15s, once chambered in 5.56, and one that was suppressed .45. Verrah noice.
  
  
  
  He had never shot an Evil Black Rifle before, and he says he thoroughly enjoyed that zombie popper.
  
  
• Letting Redhead eat REAL Texmex, not this fake chain shit they serve in Missouri. Best damn fajita tacos I've ever had are in a little taqueria in Pasadena called the Ranchito. Omnomnom. Good shit, yo.
  
  
• Drove from Pasadena, TX, to Brenham, TX to meet my Aunt Sara for lunch, because she just had to see "her boy". She held him the entire time, feeding him tomatoes from her salad, and he ate half of her baked potato soup. More spoiling.
  
  
• Lunch at the cafe where my mom works, where Daniel got lots of attention from all my mom's customers, and he ate a LOT of grown up food. Boiled carrots, broccoli, and cauliflower from the buffet line, chewed on some chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, and french fries. Om nom nom nom. Daniel likes eating grown up food like nobody's business. My mother also announced that Redhead was going to eat a REAL chicken fried steak, not that deep-fried cardboard that they serve you at Country Kitchen in Warrensburg. Said chicken fried steak was bigger than his head, and he managed maybe 1/3 of it. He has the appetite of a bird.

We drove around and I showed Redhead Pasadena and South Houston. We had a lot of laughs, a lot of fun, and my family was glad to finally meet the guy who had given them a grandson/great grandson/great nephew/whatever. Ben and I thoroughly enjoyed the warm sunshine and 50 degree weather, taking walks and spending as much time as we could outside. Redhead's mom called to say it had started to snow up here again and sent pictures to my phone as proof, and we were dreading returning to it. Especially due to "blizzard-like conditions" we were supposed to have the night we came back up.

That was complete with a three-hour drive from Kansas City back to Warrensburg. Almost three times as long as it takes to make the trip under good conditions. The entire drive I was whining about how I never should have gotten on the plane.

Alas, I did, and I'm back home now, enshrined in classes and daycare and homework and trying to find a job. Financial aid comes in next week and I'm going to buy a car from a dealership where Former Roommate got his little gas-saver for $1800, with only 90k miles on it. Very bare-bones model, but it's got working AC and heat and a CD player. Not gonna argue with a deal like that.

Now. If only the weather would warm up.

How about some pictures? Ya'll want pictures? Okay.

Also while in Texas, Daniel figured out that bath time is FUN. You can slap the stuff in the tub and this wet stuff SPLASHES YOU. It's AWESOME!







Daniel is just growing so damned much. When school let out for winter break, he wasn't crawling. Now that classes have started back up and he's back in daycare, not only is he crawling, but he's pulling himself into a standing position using furniture. Pretty soon he'll be furniture-surfing, then before you know it, walking.

They really do grow up fast.

And now a giggle-worthy video.



Whoooo. More later. I'm pooped from writing all this stuff. Maybe now I can get some sleep.

Night, ya'll.