Can You Tell I'm Bored And Feeling Guilty For Not Posting Much?

This medblog thing all started with Ambulance Driver. I found him through LawDog, who was linked by somebody-or-other whom I usually read. Danged if I remember.

Meanwhile, I'm rereading the PowerBook Scam online. Funny, funny story.

Ewww

After the OB appointment, I saw DH off to work and went to my favorite Chinese restaurant for lunch. I wanted wonton soup and steamed dumplings. Not five minutes after I ordered, I saw a house roach weaving its way along the windowsill.
Oh. Joy.
I waved the hostess over and pointed it out to her, and she acted like it had personally insulted her by patronizing her establishment. She was mad. That roach was not welcome. I never want to be on a Chinese woman's bad side. She apologized profusely and brought my food out soon after.
I might have been able to talk myself around a single roach, but for some reason, the food was just sub-par. They had switched their brewed iced tea to the icky powdered stuff (I can taste the difference), the wonton was undercooked and almost crunchy, and the dumplings were pasty.
Can anyone recommend a good Chinese place here? I need a new favorite.

Cursed

It seems that a lot of people I know are getting injured in one way or another! My mom just spent another weekend in the hospital with a kidney infection (she's fine now), a friend from college just got word that his father has prostate cancer, my best friend's dad had a stroke Saturday, and now Butterfly Wife has stitches in her thumb! None of these people have anything to do with each other--I'm the common denominator. Is it me?? Am I cursed?
Not to mention I totaled my car last Thursday... I'm ok, just a bruise on my arm from the airbag banging it against the steering wheel. The woman in front of me was stopped, trying to turn left, as I crested the hill. I was going too fast for the rain and hydroplaned right into her.
Turns out she's 7 months pregnant.
She went to the hospital with her fiance ("Don't people do things in order anymore?" my mom commented) to get checked out, but as far as I know they're all fine. The wrecker took one look at my car and pronounced it totaled. I cleaned it out as it sat in front of the body shop yesterday. We're still waiting on the insurance adjuster to come by and say, "Yup, it's totaled."

On another note, I did my civic duty and voted today. I'm not too thrilled about the election, but I put in my two cents, by Jove. At the moment I'm multitasking, what with trying to practice tuba, blog, and work on a book idea I had in high school. I'll email it to you if you want to read it.

Too By Two

WOW.
Just wow.

I saw a muted news channel screw up "to" and "too". The bottom banner said: "Has 'Intervention' gone to far?"
Yep. It made me sick. It was talking about the show "Intervention" letting their subject drive drunk. That in itself is sickening. I didn't hear anything about the story as the TV was across the room.
It stayed up for more than half the story, then blinked off and corrected itself. Someone at that station is a real idiot. They're in the media industry and don't know the difference between "to", "too" and "two"? That's embarrassing.

It's kinda sad that I'm more upset about the spelling than about the show letting a woman drive drunk and endanger everyone on the road. I figure a media shitstorm will fix them.

Shmelly

I finally figured out what was stinking up the fridge so horribly. It smelled like a rotting animal, let me tell you. There was a bag of broccoli forgotten and out of sight in the back of the opaque vegetable drawer on the bottom of the fridge. I had to pull the drawer out to make sure nothing had gotten behind it. then wiped the whole fridge down with Clorox wipes. That sure helped, coupled with the bowl of baking soda sitting in there for a day or so. A scented Yankee Candle fixed the residual stink in the kitchen. I noticed the smell was entirely gone this morning as I came back from attempting to deliver a PT shirt to DH. He'd dug out the wrong grey shirt from the laundry basket this morning in the dark, realized it when he got to work, and called me in a tizzy. Someone else had an extra shirt for him to borrow before I got there, though.
It's 0715 and I already feel accomplished today.

Oh Geez

I hope to hell this isn't true, but the site looks legit, even with all the ads everywhere. About halfway down the page, there is this article. Can anyone tell me if this is true or not? If so, this is just going to keep veterans from getting psychological help they need and create more problems.

VETERANS DISARMAMENT ACT TO BAR VETS FROM OWNING GUNS


By Larry Pratt
September 22, 2007
NewsWithViews.com

Hundreds of thousands of veterans -- from Vietnam through Operation Iraqi Freedom -- are at risk of being banned from buying firearms if legislation that is pending in Congress gets enacted.

How? The Veterans Disarmament Act -- which has already passed the House -- would place any veteran who has ever been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) on the federal gun ban list.

This is exactly what President Bill Clinton did over seven years ago when his administration illegitimately added some 83,000 veterans into the National Criminal Information System (NICS system) -- prohibiting them from purchasing firearms, simply because of afflictions like PTSD.

The proposed ban is actually broader. Anyone who is diagnosed as being a tiny danger to himself or others would have his gun rights taken away ... forever. It is section 102(b)(1)(C)(iv) in HR 2640 that provides for dumping raw medical records into the system. Those names -- like the 83,000 records mentioned above -- will then, by law, serve as the basis for gun banning.

No wonder the Military Order of the Purple Heart is opposed to this legislation.

The House bill, HR 2640, is being sponsored by one of the most flaming anti-Second Amendment Representatives in Congress: Carolyn McCarthy (D-NY). Another liberal anti-gunner, Sen. Patrick Leahy (D-VT), is sponsoring the bill in the Senate.

Proponents of the bill say that helpful amendments have been made so that any veteran who gets his name on the NICS list can seek an expungement.

But whenever you talk about expunging names from the Brady NICS system, you’re talking about a procedure that has always been a long shot. Right now, there are NO EXPUNGEMENTS of law-abiding Americans’ names that are taking place under federal level. Why? Because the expungement process which already exists has been blocked for over a decade by a "funds cut-off" engineered by another anti-gunner, Sen. Charles Schumer (D-NY).

So how will this bill make things even worse? Well, two legal terms are radically redefined in the Veterans Disarmament Act to carry out this vicious attack on veterans’ gun rights.

One term relates to who is classified a "mental defective." Forty years ago that term meant one was adjudicated "not guilty" in a court of law by reason of insanity. But under the Veterans Disarmament Act, "mental defective" has been stretched to include anyone whom a psychiatrist determines might be a tiny danger to self or others.

The second term is "adjudicate." In the past, one could only lose one's gun rights through an adjudication by a judge, magistrate or court -- meaning conviction after a trial. Adjudication could only occur in a court with all the protections of due process, including the right to face one's accuser. Now, adjudication in HR 2640 would include a finding by "a court, commission, committee or other authorized person" (namely, a psychiatrist).

Forget the fact that people with PTSD have the same violent crime rate as the rest of us. Vietnam vets with PTSD have had careers and obtained permits to carry firearms concealed. It will now be enough for a psychiatric diagnosis (a "determination" in the language of the bill) to get a veteran barred for life ­ from owning guns.



Think of what this bill would do to veterans. If a robber grabs your wallet and takes everything in it, but gives you back $5 to take the bus home, would you call that a financial enhancement? If not, then we should not let HR 2640 supporters call the permission to seek an expungement an enhancement, when prior to this bill, veterans could not legitimately be denied their gun rights after being diagnosed with PTSD.

Veterans with PTSD should not be put in a position to seek an expungement. They have not been convicted (after a trial with due process) of doing anything wrong. If a veteran is thought to be a threat to self or others, there should be a real trial, not an opinion (called a diagnosis) by a psychiatrist.



If members of Congress do not hear from soldiers (active duty and retired) in large numbers, along with the rest of the public, the Veterans Disarmament Act -- misleadingly titled by Rep. McCarthy as the NICS Improvement Amendments Act -- will send this message to veterans: "No good deed goes unpunished."

© 2007 Larry Pratt - All Rights Reserved

Unraveling

I had to do some emergency tie-ups on my granny square blanket today. One of the rounds just started unraveling! I was pissed! All I did, though, was loop through a short scrap piece of the yarn color (thankfully I had some left over) and tie it back together. You can't really tell, it just looks a little funky.
Hopefully this doesn't happen any more.

The Wall, Defaced

Go watch this. Now.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gaIMJuD44qY&eurl=http%3A%2F%2Fmichellemalkin%2Ecom%2F2007%2F09%2F12%2Fvandalism%2Ddesecration%2Dcowardice%2Dcoddling%2Denough%2Dis%2Denough%2F

What kind of asshole would do this? Why isn't this all over the news? Why have I just heard of it through AWTM (thanks, btw) and Shakey Pete?
Why doesn't anyone care?

Quads!

Wow...
There are now 4 people in the world with the same DNA. Identical quadruplets have been born in Canada. How will their lives go? "Hi, I'm Kate, but you may have met my sisters, Ruby, Helen, or Kelly. Which one? I don't know."
Wow...
I was conceived as identical twins, but early on, my twin quietly reabsorbed, miscarried, something. I guess we were in separate amniotic sacs, since I lived. I used to go around with the feeling that if I just turned around fast enough, I'd see someone, or like I was missing someone. Took me years to realize that not everyone else feels like that.

Thanks, Mom...

This was in my email inbox this morning:

" Summer "
a poem by Abigail Elizabeth McIntyre

SHIT!
It's Hot !

Lunch, Debriefed

Well, it didn't quite go as planned. I called the all-knowing Mom, and she informed me that the part I didn't remember was that Gramma put an egg in the mashed potatoes to help keep the patty together.
We're out of eggs.
So I tried bread crumbs. Maybe that would help keep the suckers from crumbling in the pan. It helped a little bit, but they still just ended up being globs of potato with tomatoes in them, seasoned with garlic and onion and crisped with olive oil.
Lunch was still good.

Such A Thing As Too Honest

Is there really such a thing as being "too honest"? Perhaps, if your wife is asking if that dress makes her look fat... or if millions of yen are fluttering down from the sky. Apparently people in Japan who have been recieving bundles of money in their mailboxes or watching it fall from unknown places are "too upright to pocket the money" and have been turning it in to police for two months now.
This raises the question: Would Americans act in a similar fashion? Would you, having found about $10,000 sitting in your mailbox, turn it into police, to await the time when its rightful owner will come forward?

Dreary Monday

So DH isn't getting a yearlong vacation to the cradle of civilization. Apparently there was some kind of fight in the barracks in the middle of the night, bad enough that somebody with a lot of stripes decided that everyone, even the people who didn't live in the barracks, needed to be present for the ass-chewing. You can imagine how well that went over. Our Saturday was pretty much shot by the time he got home, near lunchtime. We hadn't gotten but maybe two hours of sleep before the call came, and DH of course didn't sleep at all after that. I got fitsy naps when my brain slowed down long enough. When he got home, DH said he'd been bracing himself on the drive in: "We leave in a week, we leave in a week..." Getting there and learning this was all about a stupid fight, well, that made everyone mad.
I have a lot of cleaning to do and I'm not looking forward to it. There's a lot of new electronic stuff (read: boy toys) that I'll have to find a place for, to get it off the floor. I still have to chenge out my dead hard drive with the new(er) one I got from my father, and try to retrieve my data. If I can't, I'll be hella pissed. There's a box to be sent to Iraq, another letter to RSM to be mailed, applications to be returned...
Sigh.

"An Upscale Bar"

Oh... ow. I'm in pain. It's a good pain, though, as I'm in stitches. Gasping. Oh it hurts.
What a musical joke!

If you know me much at all, you know I'm very musical. I played several instruments, all of which are too big and expensive to own and transport, as much as I've moved around lately. I miss playing, but I much prefer to play with a proper band.
Methinks I'll be visiting Linda more often.

Odd Call

Here I sit, awake at a much earlier time than I usually am, wondering where my DH is.
Oh, it's not as bad as it sounds, I know where he is, just not why or when he'll be back. He got a phone call at 3:30 this morning (on a Saturday!) to be at work ASAP. No idea why and no word since then. I've been sleeping fitfully for the past 3 hours and finally gave up, got up, and made a sammich to keep me company. Now that I've eaten it, I'm lonely again. (ha)
I wonder what this could mean... a fellow soldier's death was the first thing that came to my mind. Three times in high school, strange calls over the PA system were made for certain groups of people (those who went to such-n-such middle school, all sophomores, etc) to gather for an announcement. After the first one, we all knew what such an announcement would be. If that's the case, I just hope it was quick for the victim and that I'll be able to give DH the support he'll need. The second thing that came to mind was deployment. I've been through it before with an ex-boyfriend, so I know I can handle it, but DH hasn't been yet and will worry himself sick over me. I wonder, though... if it's just a deployment announcement, why drag everyone in at 0330 on Saturday? If they didn't know Friday before the end of the duty day, can't they just wait till Monday, or possibly a more humane time than 0330? DH's squad leader asked him if he'd been drinking. He hadn't, but I know more than a few of his buddies were probably still drinking when the call came. It was a Friday night, for Pete's sake!
I know enough not to try calling him. If he could use the phone, he'd have called me already. I just have to wait it out. I remember when I was waiting for a definite go/no-go about deployment with my ex; I was gnawing on my fingers by the time the announcement came. This time, I'm just waiting. I knew when I married him that DH would probably go to Iraq before his ETS date, and if he reups, he'll definitely have a sandy vacation at some point. Maybe it's time.

Blue Falcon, Hooah

Here's a shirt I will be buying a few of and mailing them to certain "favorite" people I know:

http://www.rangerup.com/mysteryshirt.html

If you don't understand, here's a story from my college days that may help out.
There was this one guy in my company, Headquarters (HQ) but not my specialty unit thank goodness... wait, let me explain how HQ was set up in my ROTC program. It consisted of the (cadet) staff NCOs and officers, like the real Army, but also was home to the specialty units: the military band, the precision drill team, the Color Guard, and the Ranger Challenge team. This arse of a cadet was one of the staff NCOs, a great asskisser but not good enough at PT to get an NCO position in a line company.
Well, he totally screwed another guy nearly out of the Corps of Cadets (another story for another day) and was promptly labeled a "Blue Falcon". They're also known as "Bravo Foxtrots", as the initials of the real title are BF (and it sure don't stand for Best Friend). Now, one of the usual things to do to people you don't like, or even people you do like but want to mess with, is pennying their barracks door. These doors were thick, heavy wood in thick, heavy metal doorframes, so it was easy to stuff pennies between the jamb and the door, above and below the doorknob. This put so much pressure on the latch that the knob couldn't be turned, neither from the inside nor the hall. If done well, the pennies would be so jammed themselves that Public Safety couldn't even get them out with a crowbar.
This door was pennied very well. It is rumored that nearly two dollars went into that door.
This kind of thing is done very quietly during the night, so the occupants are stuck in there during morning PT, holding their pee and waiting for Public Safety to come crowbar them out. You might feel sorry for the Blue Falcon's roommate, but he was skinny enough to go out the window. Our Blue Falcon was not, and was holding his pee waiting for Public Safety to save him. Eventually, Maintenance was called in to remove the door from its hinges. This was done, and our Blue Falcon finally made it to his last class of the day. The door was replaced and HQ went about their business.
The next night, while the penniers slept, the artists came out to play. By morning the door sported a bird carved 1/4th of an inch into the dense wood and painted bright blue. It was a work of art, and obviously a lot of time went into it. Also obvious was the fact that the door couldn't be repaired; the carving was too deep to try to sand it away, so a new door was ordered from Maintenance. It took a few days to get it, so our favorite shat-upon was poignantly reminded of his misdeeds every time he entered and exited his room. The new door arrived, was installed, and the old one carted off.
Not quite the end of the story. Some smart cadets noticed where the old door was taken, and the first night our Blue Falcon had a new door to enjoy, the carved door was recovered from the dumpster behind Plant Ops. He hadn't quite suffered enough. That heavy old door made its way back up to the third floor and leaned against the new door, propped up by several well-placed rubber doorstops. They ensured that in the morning, when the door was opened from the inside, the old door would fall right into the room, yet another reminder of how much of an asshat the guy was. He ended up limping all day from bruised toes.
We hadn't finished with him yet, though. Again, the old door was taken away, but Maintenance hadn't learned their lesson, or perhaps they enjoyed the show. The door was again found in the same dumpster that night. The barracks had a ledge under the windows, about a foot and a half wide. Skinny cadets would shimmy out the windows and wash the outside for inspection, or sneak in and out of their rooms after taps, or other devious things cadets think of when they're stuck on campus for six weeks in a row. Somehow that door was lifted to the third floor window ledge and propped against the outside of the guy's window. This time, Maintenance was "too busy" to get it down for a few days; the cherry picker was otherwise occupied.
Everyone thought that was finally the end of the Blue Falcon's door. Months later, however, during HQ's company awards ceremony, our favorite cadet was presented with a new award: the Order of the Blue Falcon. Someone had gone dumpster-diving again and retrieved the carved door. The painted bird had been professionally carved out of the middle of the door and shaped to look like a sliver of a tree trunk, then glazed. Bark had even been glued to the edges for a nice touch. The company commander had a glowing little speech, making it sound like an actual award, and handed the carving over with a big smile and a handshake.
I know the guy will never forget that.

Hospitalized

My desktop has been shelved for the time being... the hard drive is apparently on its way out, so to save my data, it's sitting in the corner until we can afford a new computer and that little doohickey my father was talking about that can transfer the data from my dying hard drive to a new one. I've been trying to get my external CD writer to work so I can back up all my stuff, but it whirrs and whines and then says that the files don't match their originals, and spits out a blank-but-full CD. It's been pissing the hell outta me 'cause I've done everything I can think of to make the damn thing work: uninstall and re-download the driver and writing software. That, obviously, didn't work. All my music, recipies, documents, music, a few videos, music, and did I mention music? It won't all fit on my iPod. I only have a Nano, and it's full of the same stuff I've had on it since Christmas. It's about time to switch out, but now I can't.
Poo.
I want a Mac.

Confession

I have a confession to make, Blogdaddy. I learned your recipie by heart and followed it to the letter for many months, or as best I could in this new city with its comparatively icky water. (I miss mountain well water.) I used a glass pot and wooden spoon, just like you said. I stirred in the sugar while the water was warming up, let the teabags steep for a while, and even put the ice cubes in the pitcher too.
I'm sorry I've failed you.
Today I used my (horror!) automatic coffee-maker to "brew" tea. Dumped the sugar in the carafe, stuck the teabags in the coffee filter, and hit "On". Mr. Coffee bubbled away happily, not knowing the difference. At least I used the wooden spoon to stir the sugar in the carafe before pouring the tea in the pitcher.
It sits in the refrigerator, cooling. RSM would die of a heart attack.

Domestic Me, Part I

I have fallen down the drain, flushed swiftly down the toilet of domesticity. My hell-raising days, though few and far between, are certainly at a dead end now. I might as well buy bandannas and tie my hair up in them, and wander around with yellow rubber gloves on my hands, looking for something to clean.
I have asked for a vacuum cleaner for my birthday.

The Numbers

I must bow to the peer pressure.

$4890.00The Cadaver Calculator - Find out how much your body is worth

Mingle² - Online Dating

And...

I am worth $2,084,340 on HumanForSale.com
How much are you worth?

Glad I'm worth more alive than dead...