Dear Healthcare System: You suck

I’d like to apologize for yesterday’s “post” and just say that this week has been its own special kind of lousy that has given me a mad case of writer’s block. But to remain on the positive side of life, I would like to point out that I have written, for better or worse, one post a day for 135 whole days. 135 posts, y’all. You’re welcome.

Seriously, I just need to stand up on a box for a sec and say that I think that the health care system in our country is not only horrible, it actually creates some of the problems that it supposedly helps us pay for. How is it ok that the very same politicians who are “working hard to save the souls of the innocent babies who are aborted every day” are not working their ASSES off for the women who have babies to get the care that they need during their pregnancy and afterward? (P.S. I’m not pregnant.) Who decided that pre-existing conditions were absolutely unacceptable and would not be covered, no way, no sir? How is it ok that one month’s supply of medicine can cost upwards of $425? I’m just pretty pissed off and tired of dealing with having very little expendable income to pay for the inadequacies of America’s healthcare system.

So I’ve had a hard time writing about funny crazy things when my life has been so consumed with STRAIGHT UP crazy things.

I hope to be back to my regular old self deprecating sarcasm tomorrow. Until then, Healthcare System, this one’s for you:

Women seeking blog posts

29 y/o MWF looking for blog post to Rock My Wurld!

RU searching for a blog to call your home? Do U have a passion for lighting up the Internet with your words and wit? RU longing to be the post that everyone wants to read? Do U love long walks on the beach and/or burritos? Then I am the lady 4U!! Get in touch w/ me and let’s see if ur the 1!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Call 1-800-YES-TIME today!!! I am waiting 4 ur call!!!!!!!

I think I’ll go inside the bank from now on

Drive Up Bank Teller: Welcome to Wachovia!

Me: Hello.

Bug: (from back seat) Mama.

Me: (closing the tube and sending it whooshing back through the tube) Just a sec, Bug.

Teller: Just a deposit today?

Bug: Mama!

Me: Hold on, Bug. (to teller) Yes, just a deposit. Oh, and could we get a lollipop?

Teller: Sure. Oh, and ma’am?

Bug: MAMA!

Me: (to the teller while ignoring the yelling) Yes?

Teller: I need to send this back over to you to sign before I can give you cash back.

Me: Oh, ok.

Bug: MAMA!

Me: (signing the deposit slip) Just a sec, Bug!

Bug: MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA

Me: (exasperated) OH MY GOD WHAT BUG.

Bug: You forgot to buckle me in!

Me: (whipping around quickly) What?

Bug: My buckle! You didn’t do it! When we left the PMO! YOU DIDN’T BUCKLE IT MAMA.

Teller: (sending tube back) Is there anything else I can help you with today Ma’am?

Me: (fumbling frantically around in back seat trying to buckle the carseat) Um, no! I’m good! Thanks! Just forgot to buckle him in, haha! First time that’s ever happened! Ever! Isn’t that right Bug?

Bug: MAMA FORGOT TO BUCKLE ME IN! MY BUCKLE WAS NOT SNAPPED!

Me: We only drove two blocks here! Silly me! Can’t believe I did that!

Bug: MAMA YOU SHOULD NOT FORGET TO BUCKLE ME IN. MAMA, DID YOU KNOW THAT. YOU SHOULD NOT. FORGET. TO. BUCKLE. ME. IN.

Teller: (giving me a look) Yes ma’am, well you have a good day now.

Me: (sighing) Thanks for the lollipop.

Bug: MYBUCKLEMYBUCKLEMYBUCKLEMYBUCKLEMYBUCKLEMYBUCKLE

Must be those prune trees next door

I don’t know what’s going on with the birds around work lately, but today we went outside for playground time and were immediately under shit siege. Poop rained down from the heavens in a mighty mighty shower and coated everything in its path. The kids of course were blissfully unaware of the gruesomeness of their recess time, though they might have gotten a little bit of a clue when I yelled RUN AWAY, RUN AWAY hysterically and flung their tiny bodies under the awning. What’s worse is that see sawing and licking the slide are equally fun playground activities to them and are done with gleeful abandon. Routinely a kid would come up to me with a quizzical look on his face, shove a finger under my nose and say “Uhh?” and I’d look down to see a giant purple and white glob hovering there, taunting me with its germy birdy germiness. And while every preschool has its share of contagions, I’m not sure the parents would be very excited to see a sign on our door that said “Dear parents, no big deal, but we wanted to let you know that the PMO has had several cases of AVIAN INFLUENZA.”

I’m just guessing.

Ragamuffin no more

P.S. I’m still working on that new site, so posting is picture heavy and word light. Hang in there…

Yessssssssssssssss

You can tell that people my age are now starting to be in positions of power in the entertainment world. First, My So Called Life comes back, then this. Can 90210 be far behind?

http://teamsugar.com/group/608267/blog/989728

To prove he’s not the milkman’s kid

Gosh, Bug sure was cute when he was two. You know, back in 1981.

This is my blog post at E-Four-E p.m.

Last night my sister came over to babysit Bug so that Lorso and I could go see Spirit of the Marathon. Bug luuuuuuurvs his Aunt S, and was anxious for her to arrive, so to get him to stop whining his mind off of the wait, I told him that she would arrive when the clock said six-oh-oh. And man, he was on that clock like white on rice. Every number change was announced to me loudly, like “Mama! NOW it says five-E-L! Five-E-L, Mama!” which, of course meant 5:37. He did this for 25 minutes, I kid you not.

The movie was one Lorso had heard about and wanted to see, since he runs half-marathons and whatnot. And I’m always a sucker for a documentary. I mean, it doesn’t really matter what the topic is, if you have good voice over and dramatic music, I can be ALL ABOUT volcanos or toy poodles or Millard Fillmore.

This one did not disappoint – it followed 6 runners as they prepared for the Chicago marathon and interspersed marathon tidbits along the way. All with a full orchestra score. It was awesome. It was only being shown for one night (although at the end it said that due to popular demand there would be an encore performance) and all the runners of Atlanta were out to see it. There were those “26.2″ stickers scattered all over that parking lot. You know, they should make you have to register to get one of those things. I mean, it would be awfully easy for just any old person to just slap that on their bumper and reap the image benefits. Whatever those benefits are. I think marathon runners are straight up crazy, so it’s not going to improve my view of anyone.

The movie was inspiring though, even for me. I turned to Lorso when it was over and said, “That movie has given me a goal – I am going to hand out water at a marathon. I mean, I’ll have to start small, you know, with a couple of 5Ks, then maybe a 10K, but maybe by summer I’ll be in the big leagues!”

But now that I think about it, you have to get up awfully early for that.

Looks like we should save the baby clothes

For those of you who haven’t met Lorso, well, let’s just say I’m glad I don’t know any Hadza women personally, or we might be having a throw down. He’s my hunter, bitches.

http://www.cosmosmagazine.com/node/1607

We’re gonna turn it on. We’re gonna bring you the power!

My parents gave Bug a collection of episodes of The Electric Company for Christmas, which he is slowly becoming acquainted with. And I tell you, they just don’t make shows like that anymore. I mean, it’s got Morgan Freeman! And Bill Cosby! And Rita Moreno! And crazy special effects! And awesome clothes! And the Silent E song! I highly recommend that you type the title into a search on YouTube and watch 3 or 4 of their sketches. You won’t regret it. Hey, and you just might learn something. I’m pretty sure the Electric Company was responsible for a good portion of my reading skills. I KNOW it is responsible for making my dad yell “Hey you guyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyys!” for my entire childhood life. Regardless of that fact, I have fond memories of it. I used to watch it after school, happily licking my daily spoonful of peanut butter. I was a weird kid.

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