It’s almost Mother’s Day, and we know what that means…time to pander to all the moms out there by pointing out how much they “should” be getting paid.

I hate these articles, studies, analyses, whatever you want to call them. Want to know why? Because motherhood is a lifestyle choice. It is not a job.

As a comparison, I have two dogs…and have had them for 9 and 11 years, respectively. They are living creatures which require that I tend to their needs or they will die. Getting these dogs was a lifestyle choice. While I realize Poodle and Schnoozer will not be contributing to society, it is my responsibility to make sure I have raised them so they don’t annoy the crap out of everyone with their barking, or run around loose and bite people or defecate on other people’s lawns. Sadly, I wish more parents would raise their children with the same basic level of respect for others.

Having said that, I do not raise my fist in solidarity with other pet owners, demanding that some entity appreciate my sacrifices and pay me for my many pet owner-associated jobs which include pet food nutritionist, veterinarian, groomer, personal trainer, and behaviorist.

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Is There Room for Emotions in the Workplace? - Knowledge@Emory

I’d like to get some opinions on this article…because I think that even though women have made great strides in the workplace in the last thirty years, we still have an uphill battle. Sadly, I’ve seen this in my current job and in past jobs…and I expect to encounter it to an even greater degree after I finish…well, my degree.

It has been very easy for me not to take on the “mom” role on the job, because I’m not a mom. Of course, when the author is advising women not take on the “mom” role at work, they’re referring to the nurturing aspect of motherhood.

I was involved in an inter-departmental scuffle one time, and our boss actually told us we were all like her children and we needed to learn how to get along. That would be great, except I couldn’t kick the offending co-worker in the nuts like I could have if he were actually my sibling. Although I have viewed co-workers as petulant children, that’s from the perspective of a responsibility-taking adult, not a mom.

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Dear Time Warner,

I’ve noticed in the past few weeks that the number of spam emails which make it to my inbox has substantially increased.

While I understand my email client can filter junk mail (which it does swimmingly, BTW), I also depend on you as my ISP to protect me from salacious e-morons who want me to use Adobe Akrobat, ask if 8 incches is Enough 4 me (actually, just one ‘c’ is enough for me), and would like me to view my bill online. Oh wait, that last one is from AT&T.

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2007 DMN Texan of the Year: The Illegal Immigrant

If I move to…let’s say Australia…to work and live but am a US citizen, that doesn’t make me an Aussie.

But…I am happy to report there is, in fact, a little justice in the world.

Hannah Montana essay winner a fake - Yahoo! News

Not so proud to be a citizen of the great state of Texas this morning…this story has been all over the local media outlets, and it now looks like Yahoo! News has picked it up as well.

I love her defense:

“We did the essay and that’s what we did to win,” Priscilla Ceballos, the mother, said in an interview with Dallas TV station KDFW. “We did whatever we could do to win.”

Local news reports expanded on this quote, with Ms. Ceballos adding that no one ever asked her if the story was true. Seriously, that’s what she said.

If I could track down this woman and smack her, I would. Oh, I’d also make sure my husband - WHO ACTUALLY SERVED AS A SOLDIER IN IRAQ - was right there next to me, cheering me on.

Grumble, *&#*$#*$#!, grumble.

The phone’s sitting right next to my laptop as I’m writing this, so I’m sure I didn’t return it - and am now wondering if, in the rush to get this credit out the door, someone missed something in their query for eligible customers.

I’m actually very pleased with the $100 Apple Store credit offer. Some folks don’t care, or are otherwise annoyed, because we have to use the credit at the Apple Store (and you can’t use it for gift cards). That’s fine by me, though - as it will drop the cost of the AppleCare contract I planned to buy next week by a hundred bucks.

**Update** Apple emailed me back and said I received this error due to a bug which had been resolved, and to try again. I did, and received the same error message. Then, they told me to register my iPhone, which I did - and I received the same error message when attempting to register for the credit again. Waiting to hear back on what my next course of action will be.

Apple cuts 8GB iPhone price to $399 - Engadget

You know, this wouldn’t bother me so much had they waited a few more months, but the fact that I only got a month’s use before the price dropped…that just…hurts.

We were planning on buying an iMac but will probably wait now, as they’ll likely drop the price to $5.

So I was reading this article about high-tech manners this morning, and it reminded me of an experience I had at my allergy doctor’s office a couple of weeks ago.

I was in the waiting room, flipping through People magazine and the gentleman sitting next to me picked up his ringing cell phone. First off, he had a booming voice - and I almost felt like I was being shouted at, even though I wasn’t directly involved in the conversation. Here’s what I found out about the guy:

1. He was interested in purchasing a home warranty, but due to financial issues, couldn’t pay for the whole thing right now.
2. He has rather significant financial issues, as he outlined most of them for the entire waiting room.
3. He did have enough money though, to pay half now and the remainder next month.
4. I learned his full name, credit card number, expiration date, and card security code.

In this case, it wasn’t just the fact that he was so enveloped by his warm & comforting bubble that he didn’t realize there were four people sitting around him while he was engaged in this conversation, it was the fact that these four people could have very easily written down all his information and stolen his identity.

Cell phone rudeness is definitely on my top ten list of Things That Piss Me Off. Call me old fashioned, but it drives me batty when I’m with someone and they engage in a long, drawn-out cell phone call. I don’t care if it’s a quick call, but if you push more than 60 seconds on the phone…that’s really just rude.

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Let me get all the keywords in right from the get-go: Vonage Softphone, X-Pro-Vonage software, Mac OS X crashing. Hopefully someone out there Googling these things like I did (sadly, too late) will learn from my mistake.

Having said that, I’m getting business cards at work - I requested a box after realizing I have significant networking opportunities both in school and in normal everyday life, and I don’t have any cards to hand out. For three years now, my work number has been my home phone number. Very few people have it, so it hasn’t been an issue. With business cards though, I don’t want to just randomly hand out my home phone number…even if it’s disguised as a work number. Just having my cell phone number on the card makes me look like a consultant…or I don’t have a real office.

Anyway, I thought to myself…why don’t I pick up a Softphone line from Vonage? I’ll drop my “unlimited” program on our main line since we rarely use more than 500 minutes, then the extra cost of the Softphone line will balance us out to about what we were paying before - and I’ll have that second line with voice mail and all the other bells and whistles. Plus, it will be on my laptop, so maybe I can actually start traveling with CU once in awhile - since that was supposedly one of the benefits of being a mobile worker.

As a responsible Mac user, I know not everything on God’s green earth is compatible with my chosen OS, so I checked the technical requirements - turns out, all I need is Mac OS X version 10.2 or newer. Fantastic! I’m running 10.4.10! I sign up for my new Softphone (for which I am charged a $9.99 “activation fee” for their database trigger to update a few tables but…bygones), download my software and am ready to go! Sweet!

But…because I am me, I have to test it out. I call CU and ask him to call me on the Softphone. He does…my laptop rings…and I answer the call. Success! We chat for a minute, then I hang up. The application crashes. Hmm. I restart it and have to go through the login process again. Odd. I call CU this time to check outbound calls…we chat, then I hang up. The application crashes. Okay…well…maybe my account just isn’t fully set up yet. I ask CU to call back again, this time to check the voice mail. He calls and I sit here listening to my laptop ring. After the fourth ring his call is kicked over to voice mail and…yes my friends…the application crashes.

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Do you ever have those times when you wish you could play the tit-for-tat game, and actually have it come out in your favor?

My Org Behavior class ended nearly two weeks ago, and grades were due into the Student Records office last Friday…August 3. Grades were to be published online this past Monday and needless to say, I was excited because I’m dying to know how I did both on my individual project and overall in the class.

Monday comes and goes…no grades have been posted. Yesterday, the emails start coming in from fellow classmates, all wondering if we’ve heard from our instructor or seen anything remotely resembling a grade. No one had, so we all start emailing and calling Student Records, wondering what’s up.

Apparently, our instructor just blew off the grade submission deadline. One unhelpful representative had the gall to tell me it was my responsibility to follow up with the instructor because even though there’s a deadline, instructors don’t always meet it. So, I did. Here was her reply:

I will try to get them out to everyone before too long. Final grades should be uploaded into Banner in the next few days.

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Poor (and I meant that in a totally non-economic), victimized Al Sharpton & Jesse Jackson drive me absolutely buggy. Wide-eyed, bulging eyeball, spinning-circles-in-my-eyes buggy.

It never ceases to amaze me how if a white person says something “offensive”, he’s strung up and beaten like a pinata (no offense to any Hispanic readers, of course)…but if a black person does the exact same thing…for some reason society is obligated to turn a cheek and pretend it never happened. Remember the “George Bush hates black people” comment?

Then again…Isaiah Washington was sent to “rehab” for his anti-gay “slur”…but no one hauled him onto Good Morning America to demand his resignation from Grey’s Anatomy…oh no, they gave him an award, instead!

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As much as I love Seattle and the beauty and great wine of Washington, I might just have to boycott the entire state if this unbelievably lame initiative were, by some idiotic chance, to pass.

I mean, I understand where they’re going, but saying, “it should be good fun to see the social conservatives who have long screamed that marriage exists for the sole purpose of procreation be forced to choke on their own rhetoric” is short-sided, because to further the cause of same-sex parenthood, you sacrifice childfree-by-choice couples, those struggling with infertility and married couples with children who honestly, would be better off divorced…among many, many others. I don’t care what you do, but don’t drag my lifestyle choice into your battle…because your proposal is such a slippery slope…and you’re making assumptions that may sound like out-of-the-park hits, but what happens if you’re wrong?

Don’t want to have kids? Sorry, your marriage won’t be recognized. Can’t have kids biologically and plan on adopting? Sorry, your marriage won’t be recognized, either. Forget the fact you’ve been married 5…10…however many years. By some stroke of circumstance, did you have to have a hysterectomy at 17? Forget about marriage. Husband beats you? Sorry, because you have children, under this initiative, you couldn’t get divorced. What about the couple where the woman is past childbearing age; i.e., post-menopausal? Sorry, but thanks for playing.
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First off, Happy Valentine’s Day…again. Always lead on a positive note.

I saw a segment on some news show a couple of days ago, which praised the asinine invention of this thing called “Anti Valentine’s Day,” where pissed-off single women try to hijack the holiday, because they’re not part of a couple and want everyone to know it, I guess. I believe they interviewed the Valentine’s Day Product Manager at American Greetings for the segment, too. How sweet of a job would that be (no pun intended), the product manager for Valentine’s Day cards? I think I may have just found my next career. Greeting card product manager. Oh yeah.

Having said that, this article was in yesterday’s Dallas Morning News. Clip it out, and be appreciative for what you do have, rather than bitter about what you don’t have. Before I got married, I had proportionately less coupled-up V-Days than single ones, so I speak of which I know. And, after watching some of the women in the segment, no wonder they’re single. They’re mean, nasty, judgmental and think love doesn’t count unless it’s romantic. You kind of wait for Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha to show up and smack some sense into them.

Oh, and I love my husband. I love him in that oogly googly schmoopy “You can ditch me for Iraq and Paris two Valentine’s Days in a row and I still adore you, because eventually you’ll come home and do things like replace the light in our master closet” sort of way. Just so we’re all clear on that.

6 ways to add more love to your life

DAYLE ALLEN SHOCKLEY

In 1967, the Beatles declared, “All you need is love.” That assertion may not be far from the truth.

“When we increase the love and intimacy in our lives, we also increase the health, joy and meaning in our lives,” says Dr. Dean Ornish, founder and director of the nonprofit Preventive Medicine Research Institute in Sausalito, Calif.

His book, Love and Survival: The Scientific Basis for the Healing Power of Intimacy (Collins, $14), is a best-seller. His research has been published in the Journal of the American Medical Association and other medical journals. Dozens of other studies showcase the benefits of loving and being loved.

With Valentine’s Day upon us, what better time to add love to our lives? Here are six suggestions:
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Snarkwife’s Googly Woogly Guide To Valentine’s Day

Superman, Can You Read My Mind?: Ladies, if your man isn’t attentive and romantic the other 364 days of the year, don’t pitch a fit and cry and whine about what a loser he is if your Utopian fantasies don’t materialize today. Besides, if he did show up with roses and candy, you’d probably gripe that (a) the roses will die in four days, (b) the candy will make you fat and (c) he only did all of this because he knew you’d get mad if he didn’t. Unless he completely forgets, cut the guy some slack. Having said that…

Embrace Your Inner McDreamy: Men…know your woman. Pay attention. If you hear her say, “Honey…I really like these pajamas and they would make such a fabulous Valentine’s Day gift,” she has just provided you with a clue. Don’t miss it. Trust yourself…you know what makes her happy and if you don’t, well…that’s why God created Walgreens. Hop to it. There’s nothing that drives a woman more wild than a man who appears to give a damn about her thoughts and interests. Seriously. I wouldn’t steer you wrong on this. If you’re so lucky as to have a Kirsten Cohen who will go so far as to flag pages in the Victoria’s Secret catalog (”Did you get me the black with the beige trim, or the beige with the black trim?”), hold her close and never let her go.

None Of That Lover’s Lament Crap: There are infinitely worse things in life than being single on Valentine’s Day. I remember being single on Valentine’s Day, and the day is only as miserable as you make it. If you start out the day hating coupled people and hating Hallmark and hating Walgreens for having shoved the holiday down your throat since January 2…well sheesh…no wonder you’re single. Go out to dinner. Believe me, people aren’t staring at you. They think you’re amazing for having the courage to go out, because they themselves do not possess that courage. Watch American Idol Grey’s Anatomy (updated for 2007!). Give your doggie a smooch and send e-cards to all your friends.

Misty Watercolored Memories: Purge those ghosts of Valentine’s Days Past. I remember…eight years ago, my then-boyfriend had a dozen long-stemmed red roses delivered to me at work. The sentiment fell flat for multiple reasons, one of which being he used his mom’s credit card to order them. He also seemed to get more of a kick out of the attention he got for sending them (we worked together) than whether or not I actually liked them. The only enjoyable part of that day was going to Albertsons after dinner and watching all the misfit men in the Express Lane buying last-minute cards and candy for 75% off.

That is all. Off you go.

Grumpy workers are the best workers

By L.M. SIXEL
HOUSTON CHRONICLE

HOUSTON — The next time you go to work in a bad mood, don’t worry. It could be a sign you’re on the way to solving a problem.

Recent research shows it could be the grumpy workers who are actually a company’s most creative problem-solvers, said Jing Zhou, associate professor of management at the Jesse H. Jones Graduate School of Management at Rice University.

It’s the happy, cheerful folks who tend to think things are going well and that there are no problems to be solved, she said. They’re less likely to be pondering potential pitfalls and often don’t see problems until there is a crisis.

It’s a departure from the general management philosophy that a positive mood leads to creative problem-solving, said Zhou, who based her findings on the results of 161 responses from employees and their supervisors at a large oil-field services company.

As I mentioned yesterday, now that I’m back at the gym in the mornings I get to inform myself on the issues of the day which avail themselves to folks who are usually at home in the mornings watching morning news shows; specifically, how to tackle those flabby arms, how to properly nap, and how to help your child when someone is bullying them at school.

One of this morning’s segments on the Today show…and I swear, this topic is covered about every three weeks, was on school bullies and more specifically, why the parents of said bullies have absolutely no shame and take no accountability for their children’s behavior.

Now, I grew up in the olden days, where you were bullied…and you just dealt with it. Raise your hand if you weren’t ganged up on by a group of at least two people at least half a dozen times somewhere between kindergarten and your senior year of high school. Capt. Uberhusband…yes, even him…has all sorts of fun stories.

Elementary school was misery for me, especially when I skipped the third grade and wound up in the fourth grade with a whole new set of classmates. Some bullied me because I was younger. Some bullied me because they sensed my fear and apprehension about being with a whole new group of kids. Still others bullied me because my mom bought my clothes at KMart and the clothes they got at the mall were way cooler and hence, so were they. The other smart kids saw me as a threat. Or at least, this is what my parents would tell me. Not that I was a huge victim…I did have some great friends. But even if only a couple…or a few kids are “against” you, sometimes it feels like everyone is.

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This is my moment of chocolate-dipped zennerific karma.

I wonder if I could deduct an iPhone as a required business expense…if I only use it for work…and…Fafarazzi.

After I finished my last post, I decided to take a break and take Miss Daisy out for a walk. Seems like I can’t take that poor dog for a walk without some sort of disaster happening…no wonder she gets all excited when I pull out the leash, then turns into psycho dog once she actually figures out what we’re doing.

Long-time readers will remember what happened back in February of ‘05…I tripped, fell…and Daisy went running into the street while dumbass drivers honked and whizzed around her. That’ll scar her (and me, literally) for awhile.

There’s a house about a half block away from us…they have this dog…we’ll call her Cujo. She’s always running around the neighborhood, and I’ve called both animal control and our homeowner’s association because her clueless owner just doesn’t get it. A couple of years ago, I was out one evening walking both dogs…and Cujo came after us.

I scooped up both Cookie and Daisy (that was fun)…and then I went and pounded on the owner’s front door. She pooh-pooh’d the whole situation…”Oh, Cujo doesn’t bite.” “Yeah, well, Cookie does.” I believe I also told her to get her act together because I saw her dog running around all the time. I called both animal control and our homeowner’s association that day…don’t know what happened, but at least I felt like I was protecting myself.

So I take her out today - and I walk past this same house. I hear the dogs literally, climbing the windows but…they’re inside so I don’t care how much they’re flipping out.

All of a sudden…out of freaking NOWHERE come Cujo and a big black cocker spaniel running straight at us. I scoop Daisy up as fast as I can and the damn dogs are jumping on us and barking. I successfully extricate myself and Daisy from the dogs (who have quite the vertical leap), go up to the house and POUND on the front door for about ten seconds until someone answers. Yay…it’s Clueless Woman. That’s the great thing about my neighborhood…generally, someone’s at home at every house during the day.

Snarkwife: HEY…YOUR DOGS JUST ATTACKED ME AND MY DOG.
Clueless Woman: I’m on a conference call.

Seriously?

Snarkwife: I don’t give a shit if you’re giving birth, your dogs just attacked us.

She just stands there…kind of looking around…like she’s afraid I’m making a scene.

Snarkwife: You know, I’d like to be able to walk around my neighborhood without the fear of being attacked by your dogs.
Clueless Woman: This has happened before?
Snarkwife: Duh - uh…yeah! And I see that one {pointing at the brown dog} out running around all the time. We’ve spoken before, and I’ve told you this before.
Clueless Woman: Well, I haven’t been here for the last six months.

At that point, I would have liked to have kneeled down and just pounded my head into her front sidewalk. How many people confront her about her dogs…so many that she can’t remember the last time we spoke? I remember every conversation I have on my front sidewalk…and would certainly remember the face of someone my dogs chased down the street. Maybe she got a lobotomy six months ago. Who knows.

Snarkwife {pointing to the end of the street}: That dog - her name is Cujo, right?
Clueless Woman: Uh huh.
Snarkwife: Then we’ve spoken. Get it together…and I’m reporting you to the homeowner’s association and animal control…again. Seems like the three times a year I walk my dogs, I get attacked by your dogs.

And with that, I have to carry Daisy the rest of the way home because Cujo is still wandering the streets. No wonder Daisy we hates going on walks.

To: Whatever dumbass decided to ring my doorbell at 8:56 p.m. last night
From: Snarky

RE: Do that again and so help me, I’ll overseed your lawn. Birds lurrrrrrrrve overseeded lawns.

I’d like to thank you for ringing my doorbell last night, right as Ryan Seacrest was saying, “And…the winner…of American Idol…is…” GAH! You IDIOT! I was flipping back and forth between that and the painfully intense last couple of minutes of Lost and…you ring my doorbell?

Probably to the average schmo, this is not a big deal except (1) it was nearly 9 p.m., (2) my porch lights weren’t on so I sure as Hell wasn’t going to open my door anyway and, (3) ringing doorbells flip out Cookie and Daisy.

When the doorbell rings, I rarely have enough time to get to Cookie because somehow she goes from sound asleep on the couch to throwing herself at the door in literally, one leap. Pretty good for a blind dog. By the time things settled down, I noticed quite a bit of blood on the tile in our foyer, in front of the door.

Cookie must have caught her paw on something because she cut herself and, after trying to diagnose which dog was bleeding (and checking my own paws) and noticing she was the only one licking her paw, figured it was her. She’s fine, though. Thanks for asking. Nothing some tummy scratches and a few treats couldn’t fix.

I Tivo’d Lost so I was able to watch the end of that, but I won’t ever get back the American Idol moment I lost you stole from me. Plus, the whole incident just startled and scared me.

Thanks a lot. Happy Thursday to you.

I called Cingular yesterday afternoon and told them I was Capt. UberHusband and wanted to add my wife as an authorized user to her cell phone account.

Three times the customer service rep asked me what my name was.

“Capt. UberHusband.”

“No, not the name on the account…your name.”

“Capt. UberHusband. CAP-TAIN OOOOOOBERHUSBAND.”

I guess I sound girlier on the phone than I thought.

The third time she asked me what my name was, she actually called me ma’am to which I responded, “I’m not a ma’am. Now, is there a problem with adding my wife to this account?”

It took the rep an extraordinarily long time to complete the transaction and I felt a slight twinge of guilt. When I talked to Capt. UberHusband last night, I asked him to call Cingular and verify that the deed had been done. So much for being all edgy and tough.

Now that the UberHusband and I have entered what can be described as a “politically charged” arena with the whole IRR reactivation thing, I can’t tell you how many people have come out of the woodwork to challenge me on the things I’ve said so far.

Having said that, I’d like to take this opportunity to remind everyone of Snarky’s Comment Policy, which is pretty much the same as it was during the last presidential election:

• There are a gajillion “political” blogs out there…if you hate President Bush or want to talk about WMD or the back-door draft, go someplace else. You aren’t getting any free publicity here.
• Refrain from telling me how to feel or what to say. That really irritates me. By commenting on my blog, you are in essence a guest in my house. Bringing a bottle of wine is always a plus. Be courteous or I’ll throw your ass out.
• Don’t try to pick a fight with me. Find another hobby.
• Don’t take what I say personally unless I link to you. Far too many people think I’m talking about them when I print my snarky commentary when 99% of the time, I don’t even know who they are but once they comment…they pretty much validate what I’ve said…and provide their own link. Funny how that works, huh?
• I run, for the most part, a light and friendly blog. A sense of humor is a great thing. If you have the means, I highly suggest one. Humor has gotten me through the great tragedies in my life thus far.
• If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all. Or better yet, go say it to one of your plants.
• I’m proud of my spouse. Your results may vary.
• If you don’t (eventually) see your comment…assume you violated one of the above rules. Don’t send me an email asking me if I only print nice comments. Would you print a comment that called you a legalized murderer because your husband is in the military?
• Don’t make me ever write another post like this again. I don’t need to deal with other people’s shit on top of my own and have to pacify people who get pissy if they don’t see their name in lights, so to speak. I don’t want to have to moderate my comments 24/7 to make sure the whackos stay off my turf.

Carry on.

So I was reading this morning’s Dallas Morning News and came across yet another article on that ban on “sexually suggestive” cheerleading moves. Most of the content was of the been-there, read-that variety, but what stuck out most at me was this comment:

Sexual moves already are policed in the sport because highly regulated competitions ban them, and teams that don’t comply lose points or get disqualified, said Brad Habermel, co-owner of Cheer Athletics.

“You are given a huge penalty if you have moves that are inappropriate for family viewing or are vulgar,” he said. “I don’t see the problem he’s seeing. They are all doing dance moves that kids have been doing for 15 years.”

So what Brad is saying…is that I missed the cheerleading sexual revolution by one freaking year? Had I been born in 1970 instead of 1971 or, had I not skipped the third grade, I too could have taken part in something even more titilating that dancing to “I Want Your Sex” during school dances?

But noooooo, because I was a cheerleader my 1988-1989 senior year, I missed out on all the debauchery. Damn.

Now that I think about it though…we did do a halftime dance routine to Pebbles’s “Mercedes Boy,” which, if you think about it, was kind of a racy song…for 1988.

Sorta.

I love pointing out stupid people and giving them the attention and credit they so desperately crave. I also love it when people think they know me and/or the UberHusband better than we know ourselves.

Take for example, two comments I received last night regarding this controversial post from a million years ago regarding a personal incident (and my associated opinion) from an event that happened over four years ago.

By the way, the individual Googled “my husband went to a strip club” and spent 25 minutes at my site.

This one was from someone named, of all things, “Respect”:

Stacy, First of all want to know what trailer park you were raised in. The last time I checked women were strippers because they had no education and were possibly on drugs and have been physically and mentally abused. This is a very sad existance for a man or a woman and anyone who is a humanist would not condone any such behavior from themself or anyone they love. If you or your husband wouldn’t want your daughter on the pole then you better make sure neither of you are near that pole. I wish you well.

Follow that up with a comment from “Integrity,” who, I swear…is the same person as “Respect” since their comments came about six minutes apart from each other…who knows, maybe they’re a husband/wife team who thinks my husband and I are doomed to eternal damnation. How sad for them that they have to go trolling blogs looking for strip club-themed posts at 2 a.m (and tell me that my marriage is in trouble…and has been apparently, since before we even got married), while we sleep the night away, warm and snuggy in our bed.

Girl, You have nothing to be afraid of. You have a right to tell your husband not to go to one of these disease infested meat markets. They are for alcoholic, pathetic, single sex deprived boys who can’t sustain a productive life with his wife. And trust me when I tell you, he is taking advantage of you…and I don’t mean this in such a way to hurt you but to empower you, girl! You are being cheated on girl! Already this is happening and unless you stop it you will be disrespected as a woman and human being, and if you have children they will see this. Please for all women, stand up for yourself, and human beings to not be degrated! Much Love

You know what…if your husband or boyfriend is cheating on you or “disrespects” you (God, I hate that expression) then boo on you for picking such a louse to spend your time with. If your life sucks, don’t try bringing me down with you. How pathetic.

Regardless of what your opinion is on the subject of strip clubs, what happened, happened. It amuses me when people read one thing and then assume the UberHusband is constantly out carousing and frequenting strip clubs when in reality, his ass is planted on the couch next to me and we do nothing but watch television in the evenings.

As for the fear for our children that we won’t be having…I’d be more afraid of them turning into television-addicted couch potatoes than winding up “on the pole.”

So I read this inane article in the Dallas Morning News about the Plano school district removing swings from its playgrounds due to their inherent “danger,” and also saw it over at Lady Mac’s.

Articles such as this run rampant in the Dallas/Fort Worth area…take all of the swings away from the playground, but only get slightly upset that your son’s entire high school football team is on steroids and pity the poor schoolteachers (rather than be infuriated with them) who help their students cheat on the state’s standardized tests.

Hmm…which of the three, overall, is the least dangerous?

Now see, it’s getting bunged up as a child that kept me from coming unglued and suing my homeowner’s association, the City of Allen, the County of Collin and probably the cement manufacturer when I tripped and splattered across my neighborhood’s sidewalk a week ago.

Instead…because I have the benefit of experience and COMMON SENSE, I came home and told myself to be more careful next time. Novel idea, eh?

I cut my index finger with a knife the other day. Should I sue Wusthof?

Cripes. I mean come on…after all, isn’t this why they sell Barbie and SpongeBob SquarePants band-aids? Or are those just for your way-advanced-for-her-years 9-year-old daughter when she cuts herself shaving her legs?

Get ready Gillette…you’re next.

It takes a lot for me to say that.

In an effort to get me out of the house and into the fresh air at least once a day, I have reintroduced the concept of daily walks for me and the dogs. They have different walking styles, so I need to take them out separately.

I took Daisy out first today and about 3/4 of the way through, I tripped on the sidewalk on one of those spots where one area is higher than the other. Of course, I plunge forward, slam my hands and elbow into the ground first and then my left knee went crashing into the sidewalk.

And…I let go of Daisy. She ran into the street.

We were walking along one of those neighborhood streets that has a posted speed limit of 30 MPH and is rather curvy, but clueless people carelessly speed through there anyway. I was scared shitless. Daisy’s never been in the road before. Ever. We’ve never let our dogs roam around and in six years, she’s never been disconnected from me when we’ve been out on a walk.

I didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to do. I called her. She stood there, frozen but was several hundred feet away from me and I was still getting my bearings straight after hitting the ground so hard.

Of course, some jackass mom with two kids in an SUV careens around the corner, I assume spots Daisy and then LAYS ON THE HORN so God forbid she doesn’t have to slow down. Nice lesson to teach your kids. This petrifies Daisy so she runs further away. Another car zips by before I put myself in the middle of the street with my hand up to stop traffic and get my dog.

The next car honked at me so I lowered four of my fingers.

I walked slowly towards Daisy and told her to sit. She did. Good doggie. I stepped on her leash and carried her the rest of the way home. She’s fine…was scared but is okay now. Me on the other hand…my right hand and left knee are all scraped up and bleeding and I’m still shaking. Ow.

The biggest casualty though, was my iPod. It looks about the same as my right hand, except with a nice big scratch right down the center of the LCD screen. Goddammit.

The moral of the story? Slow the hell down, people. And step outside of your bubble for half a second once in awhile to think about the other creatures in the world.

Come here Daisy…come back into the telecommuting cave with Momma.

Let’s start today off with a rant…all together now:

MCDONALD’S IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR KIDS BEING FAT.

Period.

I ate at McDonald’s as a child, we all did. Did we all get fat because of it? No. Considering the number of times I see the words “McDonald’s” and “fast food” in various blogs, I’m guessing it’s far more prevalent and socially acceptable in today’s “fast paced” I’m-so-busy-I-can’t-be-bothered-to-fix-a-good-meal society to just drive it through.

That’s fine…but understand that unbearable amounts of fat, sodium and other crapola are going into your mouth and the mouths of your kids. If your kids sit on their asses all the time and chat online with their friends or play video games, they’re not getting any exercise and they WILL GET FAT. The same logic holds true for us adults.

The lawsuit alleges that tens of thousands of children have suffered obesity, diabetes, heart disease, high blood pressure, elevated cholesterol and other health problems after being misled about McDonald’s products.

Misled? What rock have these people been living under for the last twenty years? I can tell you that Sonic’s cherry limeades and pretty much the rest of Sonic’s menu is single-handedly responsible for putting about twenty pounds on me before I stepped away from the staticky speaker, said, “No, I don’t want tots or fries with that” and took back my life.

You don’t see me suing Sonic because, well, that would just be stupid.

I got my $36.00 back from Randy at This is True today.

And with that, the Earth tilts back into balance and peace is restored in my world.

Biggest jerk on the planet. I’m even madder than I was when I got his original response earlier this week because this time…this time he got personal, which is so inappropriate in so many ways I can’t even get over it.

Here is his response to my email and my follow-up (not sending it to him because, what’s the point?) for your ever-waiting eyes:

At 07:48 AM 12/28/2004 -0600, Stacy said:

>If there are no refunds, then why in the world did the gift notification/confirmation email sent to my father specifically say that if the subscription was unwanted, to reply back that he didn’t want it and that you would then process a refund back to me? I wish I had a copy of that email, and am trying to get a copy from my father, because it’s the one I first forwarded to you following up about the stated refund.

There’s no need to get upset, or try to get a copy of the e-mail. I am happy to send you a copy if you must see it; it says “credit”, and I told you I DID credit your account — every penny went on your subscription — because that’s what you asked me to do:

It said “credit”, *I* said “credit”, and you said thanks. I said “thanks” to you addressing my dad’s response and I thought you were crediting my credit card!

But fine. Even though the web site clearly says “no refunds”, I STILL offered you one. And I replied to your e-mail again and again and AGAIN, putting time into this because your e-mail didn’t work, and it only got through when I bothered to copy a second address you provided. I’ve never had a problem with this guy’s emails getting through until this problem started, which is typical. Considering I kept writing to him asking about the refund to my credit card, even if his responses weren’t getting through to me, the fact that I kept badgering him should have been confirmation enough that I wanted the refund.

And your response is to get UPSET that I took so much effort to offer you this special consideration? Um…yeah, because here we are…three weeks later and, um, still no refund…even after I officially confirmed that I wanted one four days ago and here you are, asking me again if I want a refund.

>In the future, it might be a better idea to send out the gift notification to the recipient and once the gift recipient says “Yes, I want This is True”, THEN charge the gift-giver’s credit card so as to avoid this.

OK, let’s go with that: I send a gift announcement, and get NO reply — which happens 99% of the time. And then I’d charge the card and find out the person has lousy credit, and then send an e-mail saying “your friend is a deadbeat, and I have to cancel your gift”? No doubt you’d REALLY be upset at that!

You asked for a gift to be sent. I’m not going to send it until it’s paid for. For you to suggest otherwise pretty much shows you haven’t thought this through. I love it when people insult my intelligence. Nowhere anywhere on this guy’s website did it say that if for whatever reason the gift subscriber doesn’t want it, that you’re stuck with it for the term of the subscription. And, the one point where I was 100% correct…that the site said “No Refunds” for unsubscriptions and technically, this wasn’t an unsubscription…notice he didn’t address that at all.

>But yes, I want a refund, because that is what was stated in your email back at the beginning of December if my dad did not want to renew.

No, it said it would be credited to you. And it was, and I told you that, and you thanked me. When you later asked for a refund, I agreed to give it, sending you my reply at least three times, saying I wanted to know if you still wanted it even knowing it would cost me money to do it. And you FINALLY get back to me to say yes, you want me to spend that money weeks later, and YOU are upset? That whole “thanked me” thing was addressed above but even if I didn’t reply to his emails, the fact that I sent him several emails asking when my credit card would be credited, doesn’t that sort of imply that yes, I want him to process the refund? And how much money are we talking about here? It’s a $36 charge. It’s not going to cost him $5,000 to process a refund.

You must have had a really lousy holiday. So did I: I got five hours off, spending all of Christmas morning and all Christmas evening working to get everyone’s gift notices out, as I’ve offered to do every year. I hope your refund helps improve your week: I’ll process it tomorrow — after working until 11:00 p.m., I choose not to stay up to do it tonight. Boo hoo pal, not my problem. Actually, I had a wonderful holiday. I too work from home and sometimes have excessive hours that include late nights and holidays but I would never, ever, put that back on my paying customers. Again…reap, sow. This is part of owning your own business. The fact that you’re trying to make me feel guilty about your employment choices is really sad.

Stacy said @ 8:05 am

I came up with a New Year’s Resolution - quit letting stupid people bother me so much.

If you need help coming up with one for yourself, Hallmark can help!

That’s going to be a lofty resolution to keep…I’m wound rather tightly and take issue with people who (a) don’t take responsibility for themselves, (b) have no common sense and…well, that’s about it. The list goes on and on but these are the Dynamic Duo.

Wait…there’s one more. I take issue with people who, knowing that they’re wrong, instead of doing the right thing and just saying “My bad,” try to twist the situation around to make you look like the bad guy. I have encountered this quite often in the workplace.

Anyhoo…as I was driving home from my nail appointment a little while ago, I heard “What a Wonderful World” on the radio and felt like a heel for letting this whole This is True thing bug me so much. My main issue - this could have been taken care of three weeks ago but one man’s voluntary actions dragged it to the point where I snapped. Maybe it was intentional…maybe the goal was to get me to finally relent and say, “Fine! Keep the $36 even though I have no product to show for it!” but, I don’t relent that easily.

Stupid people are all around us. They drive around us, provide services to us, they employ us, they answer the phone when we call Cingular and they give us The Finger when we don’t run red lights. Lest I become one terribly angry snark, I suppose I need to learn how to Let It Go. That sounds so much easier than it is. I hate it when people get away with bad behavior, especially when it seems to be the norm anymore.

2004, after a rather rocky start, wound up being one of the best years of my life up to this point. I’m happy, successful in the things that matter to me and…I’ve managed to parlay my loves of both writing and projecting my opinion into something concrete that I can look at each day…this blog.

So to all you idiots who pissed me off this year…Phuket You (That one’s for you, Dell)! I’m not going to let you drag me, my mood and the UberHusband’s mood (poor guy has to listen to me vent far too much) down anymore. You hear me? NO MORE WIRE HANGERS!

I feel so much better now. Onward and upward!

Larry King is such an arrogant, condescending jerk. I’ve never been a fan of his…personally, I think his head has gotten so big over the years that it barely fits into even my big-screen TV now.

But…last night one of his first guests was Matt, one of Ali’s brother Spencer’s friends who was on Phuket Island when the tsunami hit, and Mr. King was in rare form; interrupting Matt and chastising him like an errant child for going down to take pictures of the wave that ultimately kicked the crap out of him and his friends. You think Matt doesn’t also think it was a bit absurd now, in retrospect? No need to rub salt in the guy’s wounds, Mr. I-Won’t-Go-There-If-I-Can’t-Get-CNN!

Then…he just continued interrupting Matt and getting all impatient when Matt wasn’t responding to his questions fast enough. He’s in Thailand. There’s a delay. Ask the question, wait five seconds. If you don’t have five seconds to wait, find a couple of guests who are local and can respond quicker. Oh wait…he did.

Larry’s a news man…he should know better, but once he was able to get his attempt at sensationalism out of the way he could move on to his more “high-profile” guests, which included two people who were nowhere near Thailand, India or anyplace else in Southeast Asia but sure did like to talk a good game because they had relatives there or they had been there before.

When he grew tired of Matt’s story, he basically just cut him off. No wonder Matt hadn’t held on the line when Larry came crawling back for more sticky ratings goo.

The bummer thing was I didn’t even have a new episode of Nanny 911 to cleanse my viewing palate. Fortunately the Larry King hangover didn’t last long.

I loathe people who try to screw me over. Don’t even bother trying…I’ll always figure out a way to win.

Allow me to tell you a couple of stories…

When I quit the job I was working at four years ago, the company’s Human Resource department tried to recoup the signing bonus it paid to me by sending me an invoice and demanding that I mail them a check immediately. I refused, which caused the Human Resource department to escalate my “situation” to the corporate Legal department, who also demanded I pay up.

When I notified the Human Resource department and the company’s Legal department that, according to my employment offer letter, if I resigned employment within the first 12 months, the company was authorized to withhold the amount of the signing bonus from my final paycheck, minus the minimum wages required be paid to me under state law…a couple of proverbial light bulbs must have gone off in their collective heads because the subject was never brought up again by anyone at my old employer.

My final check was only for one week, so obviously the company didn’t get all of it’s money back. I’m guessing after that fiasco (which lasted a couple of months as we bickered and faxed and emailed back and forth), the company changed the wording on future employment offer letters.

When the UberHusband and I broke our apartment lease back in 2001 to move into our UberHouse, we scoured our apartment lease to find out what, if anything, we’d be liable for. We would only be liable for the time between when we moved out and when someone new moved into our new apartment. When someone moved into our apartment 37 days later, we received an invoice from the property management company for 37 days’ worth of rent, with payment due within 30 days.

After several phone calls back and forth and exchanged faxes, during which we got the apartment complex to concede some of the ancillary “cleaning charges” and what-not apartments like to charge to make extra revenue (I lived in apartments for 12 years, I know their tricks), we noticed a line in our lease agreement that basically said we didn’t have to repay anything within 30 days. We had to pay it back during a time period mutually agreed upon by Lessor and Lessee. Well, the UberHusband crafted a letter that stated we would pay them $50 a month for the next 18 months. If the apartment complex was agreeable to that, let us know in writing and we’ll begin payment on the first of the upcoming month.

Never heard a thing from them again. Most companies (not all, but most) would rather just end the dispute rather than deal with me and the UberHusband. I’ll poke. I’ll prod. I’ll set up task reminders in Outlook to remind me to send you the daily email reminder about how you owe me money or I don’t owe you money. Methodology has it’s benefits.

I mention these two stories because there have been times in my life when I have eluded pain and misery by being nitpicky and interpreting legal contracts to the letter because hey, I am going to do what is legally required, even if that means that you…person trying to mess with me…will not come out ahead.

This time though, it was personal.

Back when I began blogging I talked about an e-publication called This is True. I’ve been a Premium This is True subscriber for a few years now and a couple of years ago, hooked my dad up with a subscription because he also enjoys the stupid foibles of others.

His subscription comes up for renewal in December (it was originally a birthday gift) and I decided to purchase a gift renewal for him earlier this month. I processed my order online, my credit card was charged $36 for two years and a couple of days later, my dad received his gift renewal notification which also stated that if he didn’t want the gift subscription, to reply back and I (the gift subscriber) would receive a refund.

Turns out Dad didn’t want another two years so he responded back with a “No, thanks.” A couple of days later I forwarded the copy of that confirmation email I received to Randy at This is True and asked when my refund would be processed. No response. I wrote another email about a week later again inquiring as to my refund. No answer. I sent a third email asking what the deal was…finally received an answer.

The response?

“I’ll refund it if you insist, but there is a clearly stated “no refunds” policy on Premium subscriptions, mainly because it costs me SEVERAL bucks to process such refunds.”

I came unglued…as unglued as you can come at one o’clock in the morning.

Here is the carefully crafted response emailed back to Randy this morning:

“If there are no refunds, then why in the world did the gift notification/confirmation email sent to my father specifically say that if the subscription was unwanted, to reply back that he didn’t want it and that you would then process a refund back to me?

If we want to get technical, your website says, “There are no refunds should you unsubscribe for any reason.” Well, I’m not unsubscribing anyone. My dad has opted not to renew his subscription, which is completely different. His subscription will simply end this month. He will not receive a single issue based on the new subscription. Had he cancelled three weeks into the renewal period then I can see not being eligible for a refund, but not before he even receives anything. If I were to unsubscribe from my Premium subscription today, then I would not expect to get a refund…I understand that; however, in this case, there is no unsubscription going on.

I didn’t know my father wouldn’t want another two years of This is True and frankly, am a little irritated that my credit card would be processed BEFORE getting a confirmation from the gift recipient, then I am told, “No Refunds” when he declines.

In the future, it might be a better idea to send out the gift notification to the recipient and once the gift recipient says “Yes, I want This is True“, THEN charge the gift-giver’s credit card. If this is an issue with the way gift subscriptions are processed, that needs to be corrected but I shouldn’t have to pay for it.

But yes, I want a refund, because that is what was stated in your email back at the beginning of December if my dad did not want to renew. The charges you will be incurring for that aren’t my problem.”

Needless to say, I will not be renewing my personal subscription when it comes up in July. I’m not above simply disputing the credit card charge but I much prefer to make people’s lives a little miserable and force them to just do what’s right.

Don’t screw with your reading public…especially me. I don’t have big connections, but I have a big mouth and have no problem exposing people or companies I believe exercise shifty business practices. Just ask anyone who knew me when I was trying to buy a Honda Civic EX Coupe back in ‘96 (like everyone else on the planet) and had to deal with the chauvinistic assholes at Shingle Springs Honda.

Players Suspended for Photos of Girls

Um…nothing happened to the young women involved? No mention of that? Can you imagine the outrage if this situation would have been reversed? Can’t you hear the cries of sexual harassment? Yeah, me neither.

What the boys did was irresponsible…and stupid…and completely inappropriate, but if those young women hadn’t gone to the players’ bus and “exposed” themselves, none of this would have happened. From what I can tell, the boys didn’t coerce them, didn’t hold a gun to their head to get them to come to the bus. Free will, my friends.

Once again…that whole reaping and sowing thing.

How terribly ironic that I should get the following via my friend Kevin just moments after posting this little rant…

Police are warning all men who frequent clubs, parties and local pubs to be alert and stay cautious when offered a drink from any woman. Many females use a date rape drug on the market called … Beer.

The drug is found in liquid form and available anywhere. It comes in bottles, cans, from taps and in large “kegs”.

Beer is used by female sexual predators at parties and bars to persuade their male victims to go home and have sex with them. A woman needs only to get a guy to consume a few units of Beer and then simply ask him home for no-strings-attached sex. Men are usually rendered helpless against this approach.

After several Beers, men will often succumb to the desires to perform sexual acts on horrific-looking women to whom they would never normally be attracted. After drinking Beer, men often awaken with only hazy memories of exactly what happened to them the night before, often with just a vague feeling that “something bad” occurred.

At other times these unfortunate men are swindled out of their life’s savings, in a familiar scam known as a “relationship”. In extreme cases, the female may even be shrewd enough to entrap the unsuspecting male into a longer term form of servitude and punishment referred to as “marriage”. Men are much more susceptible to this scam after Beer is administered and sex is offered by the predatory females.

Please! Forward this warning to every male you know. If you fall victim to this Beer and the women administering it, just know that there are male support groups where you can discuss the details of your shocking encounter with similarly-affected like-minded guys.

For the support group nearest you, just look up “Golf Courses” in the phone book.

Big Orange Michael led me to this article about Husband of the Year Jonathan from this season’s The Amazing Race.

I have no doubt that there is some Amazing editing going on but…that can’t possibly explain all of it. The viewing audience has heard way too much of this loose cannon’s perpetually running mouth for the Amazing editors to slice and dice and cut and paste him into something that obnoxious.

No offense, CBS.

Is The Amazing Race so hard up for drama that they have to push the envelope further by manufacturing the hint of domestic violence? I sure hope not.

Personally, I wouldn’t mind taking a 3-piece Ikea frying pan set to Jonathan’s head, but that’s just me. I have ZERO TOLERANCE when it comes to a man treating his wife poorly.

ZERO. TOLERANCE.

Don’t blame your lip-synching snafu on acid reflux behavior on medication for organ inflammation, either. If you become so completely unraveled in a high-stress situation and have medical issues significant enough that they cause you mental distress while carrying a backpack in Berlin, why in God’s name did you go on the show?

But hey…for whatever strange reason, Victoria chooses to stay with him and seems to share a penchant for drama so I guess all the blame can’t be placed on him…if you’re in a blame-placing mood.

Reap. Sow. Rinse. Repeat.

I hate it when people put me in a grumpy mood.

To half of the driving population in Collin County:

See those two things to your left? They’re called the center lane and the far left lane. They can be used for passing. Instead of tailgating the back end of my Jeep, try using one of those other lanes. If you ride my bumper, I can pretty much guarantee that I will not speed up and in fact, will probably slow it down a few miles an hour.

Patience is a virture. Give it a try sometime.

To the other half of the driving population in Collin County:

I do not run red lights. Period. Don’t honk at me. I am wagering that all of the hand gestures I saw you make in my rear-view mirror were not your special way of inviting me over for egg nog. I couldn’t tell exactly what you were saying, but I do think I made out the word “bitch.” By the way, nice example you’re setting for the tween girl sitting in the passenger seat of your car.

Allowing people to use their cell phones to talk during airplane flights is wrong, wrong, wrong.

Wrong.

An airplane is currently the only place I can go to escape ringing cell phones and their ill-mannered owner/operators. Although, wireless internet access onboard could be really cool.

“The ability to communicate is a vital one, but good cell phone etiquette is also essential,” Commissioner Jonathan Adelstein said. “Our job is to see if this is possible and then let consumers work out the etiquette.”

Good plan. Let the consumers work out the etiquette because the loud, boorish, rude folks always seem to win. I’m sure someone will gripe about his/her CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHT to freedom of cell phone speech if one of us oppressors dares to question them!

There’s nothing like holiday greetings and gay happy meetings when friends come to call. Then there’s the Grinch himself, whom I will refer to as Mr. Wong, referring to my latest recap of The Amazing Race over at TVTome.com.

I was just reading your review of the Amazing Race and realized that it’s not a review at all…it’s a really really really long re-cap. After watching the episode, the last thing the readers need is a minute-by-minute, second-by-second recap. Hell, if I wanted to know what happened every second of the episode, I would just watch it again than read about it. The first thing you need to do it cut down the length and take out the announcer, re-cap of it. The first thing any reader notices is the length, and right now, I would think your “review” would discourage anyone to read the whole thing. What else I have to say is that you don’t have to write in EVERYTHING that happens. Just write down what was important, highlights of the episode, and moments of the episode that you liked. The recap of the whole episode shouldn’t take up the whole review, it should only be about a short a paragraph or two. Tell us what you feel during the review, what/who you liked/hated. Tell us what you thought was funny, sad, etc. Like I said, we don’t need a second-by-second of what happened during the episode. REVIEW it, DON’T RECAP it.

Geez buddy, get a life. It’s a television show. Don’t you have anything better to do? I write these recaps/reviews/who-the-f-cares in my free time. I don’t get paid by the word; in fact, I don’t get paid at all for it. To be perfectly honest, I write them for my own amusement…if I can amuse a couple of other people in the process, all the better.

If you don’t like what I write, don’t read it but don’t get on your hippity-hop high horse and tell me how to write. Considering your letter is the second one I’ve ever received that has criticized my recaps/reviews/who-the-f-cares, and all of the other commentors enjoy my style of recaps/reviews/who-the-f-cares, I’m not putting a whole lot of legitimacy into it, unless you’re an editor for a magazine or a writer for a network in which case, let’s do lunch!

Plus…I swear I got an email exactly like this last season…let me look because I love to keep my hate mail…why, yes I did! The one from last season had the same closing line as this one… “REVIEW it, DON’T RECAP it.”

Fine. Here’s a review: love the show. Now, move along. Nothing more to see here.

Merry Christmas, Mr. Wong! See you next season!

Listening to this woman on a live interview with CNN at 6:21 a.m.

I’m glad you’re enjoying all the publicity, lady…and all of the self-righteous talk of staying outside until the first snow which may be, and I quote you directly, “When Hell freezes over” since you’re in Florida.

She was saying that her sinister (my sarcastic adjective, not hers) plot to teach her children respect and responsibility was starting to work since all of the coverage has placed them in a “jury of their peers” but oh no, your intent wasn’t to embarrass them, was it? She wanted to show her children that “other kids” (meaning those with unloving parents or single parents, etc.) don’t have it as good as them.

But oh no, your intent wasn’t to embarrass them into dutiful submission, was it?

Again…hey, if you haven’t taught your 12 and 17-year old children up to this point about contributing to the household, do not whine and complain and pitch both a tent and a fit if the wires don’t connect.

Mom creeped me out, what with calling her children “Son” and “Daugher” and not by their names.

Why not just go on Wife Swap or Trading Spouses like everyone else?

Gah.

You’d think I’d be all over this handy dandy demonic little gadget, what with my almost pathological need for order and for everything labeled Tab A to fit into the corresponding Slot B. Beat me up and call me Andy.

Grrrr.

A few more holes and it could also double as a cribbage board.

Last night, the UberHusband and I watched Dr. Phil from Monday, when the topic was, “Ask Dr. Phil & Robin!” I always get a kick out of these shows, because the intent is to provide both the male and female perspective on things. Sometimes I agree, but this season, with the kinder, gentler Dr. Phil…generally, I disagree.

Their first guests were an engaged couple, engaged in a “disagreement” over whether or not the Groom should “be allowed” (yes, they used that term) to have his bachelor party at a strip club.

Do you want my opinion first or Robin’s? Alright…mine it is.

For the record, the UberHusband’s bachelor party consisted of Hooters, a Dallas Mavericks game and post-game whatnot at The Lodge. I didn’t give one whit about what he did because I love his friends, they love me, we’re all one big happy family and well, my husband is not a jerk who is going to do something stupid to jeopardize our relationship. I also wasn’t deathly afraid he’d find one of the strippers to be more appealing than me and dump me when he got home. When he did get home at 3 a.m., he smelled like strip club (or what I imagine one in Dallas would smell like) so I asked him to take a shower…and that was it. He showered, came to bed…and the sun came up a few hours later. No drama, no fanfare.

The reason I bring this up is because I hear woman after woman after woman complain that if her fiancé is going to a strip club as part of his bachelor party, that is somehow disrespectful to her. Please. The best part is most of these women can’t explain exactly how it is disrespectful…um…er…it just is! The Dr. Phil Phiancée said that her man going to a strip club was an inappropriate celebration of their marriage. No, no princess…you’re confusing his bachelor party with your wedding ceremony. The bachelor party has never been a celebration of the marriage, despite what your girlfriends have incorrectly told you. It’s not a test of his love for you. It’s a party. Period. I won’t even get into the barrage of rules and regulations reputable strip clubs have in place to ensure the kind of debauchery you fear won’t even take place.

I always piss people off when I say this but, if you’re that bent out of shape about your man going to a strip club as part of his bachelor party festivities, then either you’ve got serious self-esteem issues, or you’re marrying a insensitive jackass who in fact, had no respect for you before you decided to get married. Only you know for sure, but unless one of those situations apply to you, this shouldn’t be a problem. If you’re marrying an insensitive jackass who has no respect for you though, keep in mind…that is your choice. No coming back later to complain about what an ogre he is because you knew what you were getting going in.

Oh…Mrs. Dr. Phil’s opinion? It’s inappropriate…and the man’s days of carousing and looking at other women are over! Stand your ground, girlfriend! My favorite comment though…was Mrs. Dr. Phil saying the only woman who should be giving him a lapdance is his fiancé/almost-wife! GAH! Compromise, but be sure you get your way, ladies!

I guarantee…what’s going to happen with this couple is that he’ll have his bachelor party…and he’ll go to a strip club with his friends (who probably can’t stand his future wife, and vice-versa) and will spend the next who-knows-how-many-years trying to make sure she doesn’t find out. Why? Because, he’s not a cad. He just wanted a little traditional bachelor party fun and his wife made her insecurities his problem. Too bad. Marriage can be such fun, if done right. From the beginning.