Suicide Blonde

Thursday, October 26, 2006

Everything Sucks

Please understand. I don't think EVERYTHING really sucks, but just some things. I like the sound of that title better than "Some Things Suck."

Again, I'm under a lot of stress. My boy is still in Iraq and every day we get news of stuff going on over there. It doesn't help that CNN declares over and over that this month has been the deadliest one ever since the Iraq thing started. It doesn't help that his dad (my ex) is calling me every day to ask if I "heard something." He's pretty much soiling his pants and he was always the strong one. It also doesn't help that last time my son called, when I asked him if he wanted me to send him sheets or pillows he told me, "Mom, we're sleeping on the ground." It further does not help that he was very pissed off about something that last time he called and he kept saying that he couldn't talk about it but that they (the troops) were being put in grave danger. After that call I came upon an article written about his commander in which he explains that now the squads are not allowed to shoot back when they are being attacked. That they first have to verify who is shooting at them. This is the new policy and it was put in place to "protect civilian life." Yeah, well, who is protecting my son's life? When a sniper shoots at them, what are they expected to do? Look around them, like in "Are you being served" when the salespeople are asked if they are free? In that split second a sniper or a mortar can get them. It really sucks, and now I understand why my son is angry and feels so frustrated and helpless. And here I am, and I can do nothing for him.

I promise that in February, when he comes back, I will never ever again write about this or go on and on about him. Ever. Right now, though, I need to vent.

Since he left for Iraq, I have written something like 12 condolence emails to families of casualties. I went to the funeral of one of his battalion buddies that was shot by a sniper and talked to this young man's mom and dad, nice hard-working people who were bewildered by the fact that their son was gone. They had that "tharn" look that wild animals get in our headlights at night. All I could do was hug his mom and whisper softly that things would be ok. She didn't know that I was lying.

What hurts me the most about all this is that these Marines are just boys. Boys with Toys. All the Marines I have met, and all of my son's buddies in Iraq are young, very young, idealistic, altruistic, they all wanted to do something for their country, they had high ideals of being important, of defending their flag... They are all good boys. Good boys with girlfriends that cry for them, good boys whose families love them and miss them like crazy. Good boys that should come back safe and sound.

I find myself thinking about my son, what he is doing right now, how the weather is over there, if he is looking up at the stars or at the clouds, if he is eating enough, if he has enough underwear and socks (yeah, mothers always worry about underwear and socks), if he is hot, or cold, or if he is coughing at night (he always had croup when he was little). It is hard to concentrate on other things when he is so far away.

So, please Mr. Bush, let's stop killing each other. Bring those boys back, let the Iraqis deal with their own problems, let's look into solar or nuclear energy instead of oil, let's stop all this nonsense. Let's make our airspace safe, let's take care of our country, our poor, our sick, our homeless. Let's be the country that helps, not the country that invades.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

My Fave Blogs

This is the car that my son, Big D, will soon be driving if he doesn't improve his so-called driving skills. Actually, I fear for the poor horse.

Anyway, I haven't posted in a week. I've been tagged with a couple of subjects but I have not taken up the challenge. I have been a bit busy in the work environment, so I've been absent in the blog world. One moment, please, I have an important message coming in:


Ok, now we can continue with our regularly scheduled post. For a few minutes anyway.

I was thinking that if I still hadn't figured out how to link other people's blogs here, I may as well write about my favorite bloggers and why I like them. Please note that these are NOT necessarily in order and that these are NOT the only bloggers I adore. But I have a time restraint, since a) I'm at the office and b) I would like to have a life:

1) First Nations: She cracks me up something terrible. I will be sitting at work trying to actually work and I will bust out laughing over something FN said in her blog. You really never know what she will come up with next. My favorite post of hers is "More Fun with George," written about one of her hubby's loser friends. Now, I have to admit that I have had and still have my fair share of loser friends and (of course) boyfriends. Well, not my present boyfriend. But I think that George epitomizes everything that is "loserly" about losers. For example, the crazy and unbelievable lies, the excuses for not being able to work, or to have a relationship, or to keep yourself clean, etc. My second favorite post is the one about the junkyard. Love ya, FN!!!! (wup)

2) Mr. Scurra: No one can take an inane, insignificant, uncomplicated subject and convert it into a complex, intelligent-sounding, pseudo-intellectual post, completely undecipherable by us "colonials," like Vic. What drew me immediately to his blog was his picture. Yes, he is old. Yes, he is unkempt. Yes, he needs to drag a comb through that thing usually known as "hair." And finally, yes, I am starting to become a pain in the butt. But he is unique. My favorite post is any of them, especially the ones where he mentions Mrs. Trellis. Where he truly shines, though, is on his brief and biting comments on other blogs. Brilliant, yet perplexing. Savvy, yet unfathomable. But he makes me laugh.

3) Ms. Pie: Cherrypie is the only person I know that has ever written a post about fungus growing in her house, which of course just drew me into her world. She likes birds, improv, perfumes (expensive ones, ok, not Jean Nate), and when we both retire and our sons are on their own we are backpacking through Europe and Cuba together with Pammy.

4) Ziggi: Ziggi is a witch, not a good one but a Very, Very good one. And when you click on her blog, you nevah evah know what she will be going on about. One week, she's entertaining you somewhat with her DIY chimney or whatever it is she's building by herself (while taking a nip every now and then, supposedly to celebrate someone's promotion), and next week she is advertising this electric contraption which she seems very happy about. She also had a hilarious post about a cross-dressing teacher candidate which had me in stitches for a few days.

5) Dave: For many months I would read Dave's posts and out of, say 5 or 6 paragraphs, I would understand (maybe, I may not really have understood) one or two concepts. It was difficult at first because to me, cricket is something that chirps outside your window and that makes you go crazy, screaming and swiping at your hair, if it comes anywhere near you. But, like a long and complicated novel (like Anna Karenina) that at first you don't understand, I am glad I kept reading. One of the things about his blog that I read all the time and it makes me laugh every single time is the short version of his profile. And whose X-ray is that? Homer Simpson's? With a kidney stone lodged in the middle of his brain? And his picture where he's dressed like a Jedi is priceless.

6) Fronty: I was immediately endeared to Fronty when he and I both had Possum Problems at the same time. Apparently, unlike my possum problem, his would run all over him at night while he slept. He lost several battles with them before he was able to regain mastery of his domain. Nobody turns a sentence like FE. He is brilliant, funny, sweet, completely unexpected and has a thoroughly enjoyable blog even though sometimes his taste in music is a bit weird. But you have to give him credit for those airplane models, what the heck are those? They look REAL!!!

7) Tommy: Tommy is a wonderful person, one of the first commenters ever on my blog. Intelligent, compassionate, passionate, mandal-wearing, country squire who also lives in Second Life. Well, we don't want to share him with Second Life, do we Pammy?

8) Pammy: Don't tell anyone, but Tommy and Pammy are an item and they usually meet in Commentland. Pammy is a great wife, mother, friend, blogger and she even speaks Spanish! She has adorable kids, dogs, cats and now kittens. Be careful of the cat, it whaled on her hubby one time.

9) WW and Homey: These two are NOT an item, and please don't say that they are, even tho Homey took a picture of WW's butt which is one of WW's posts (check it out, ladies, it's worth the travel). They are friends and they have been so since they were very young. WW is irreverent, funny, always sympathetic and understanding, has a Niiiiiiiice Butt, and plays great music on his blog. Homey on the other hand, although he is also funny and sympathetic as well as understanding (and who knows, he may have a nice butt too, but that is just conjecture), is the Voice of Reason. He knows how to dissect a problem and how to tackle it from different sides. I really like that. But I still need a picture to decide about his glutes.

10) Anna: She is a breath of fresh air. She writes beautifully, she works hard and has difficult people to work with (including the customers), she is an awesome friend, sister, and mommy to Bruiser, the cutest and most photogenic kitty in blogland. She makes me smile. And she DOES NOT look like Edward G. Robinson.


Wednesday, October 11, 2006

I Am Taking Over the World, Don't Worry I'll Be Kind

Great news! I am getting a promotion! I am no longer a lowly coordinator, those days are gone. Now I am an Assistant Director! "Of what?" You may ask. And I would answer forthwith and with a stupid little smile on my face, "Of the Advising Center for now, later the world."

Do not be afraid, I plan on being a great leader and kind as well. I once had a bumper sticker that read, "when I take over the world your death will be quick and painless." Of course, that was just a joke, maybe inflicting a little pain is not a bad thing. Bwa ha ha ha.

Seriously, though, I'm happy since this means beaucoup $$$! Which is my main thrust (I will try to use the word "thrust" at least once in every post, I believe it will increase my readership as it has for Vicus). They can change my title to Floor Sweeper or Paper Clip Organizer and I would be just as happy as long as I got the $$$.

It is really funny that the whole week before I was told about my promotion, I had been scanning open positions and sighing and mumbling that I had no future in my present position. I had no clue that I was going to get this promotion, if I had had a clue I may have been more cheerful and a better butt-kisser! But this came out of the blue and I am so happy and contented now. For now.

I am celebrating on Friday at Content Hour! Please feel free to have a Margarita on me.

Monday, October 09, 2006


On Friday morning I get a call from my ex-husband, the father of my children. Usually when he calls I take a few seconds to reflect on what it could be that he's calling about and whether or not I should answer. But that is another post for some other time when I am less stressed.

He was calling because my nineteen-year-old son, whom I adore, and to whom I bequeathed my Jeep Wrangler when I aquired my new Cherokee, had just had a traffique accidente. "Is he ok???" (Instant migraine) "Ye's he's ok, he just f*cked up the left fender." His words not mine, even though I probly would have said it the same way. I slowly exhaled and regained whatever level of composure I had before the call (not much).

Anyway, it turns out that my son was going to make a left turn and was turning into the turning lane and some woman smooshed into the left side of the Jeep as SHE tried getting into the same lane. He got the ticket of course. Why? Because he is now under my insurance policy and the car is under my name. Meaning that if the woman decides to go after me I can lose my house and everything in it. Mental note: I must buy a lot more Colorsilk Medium Ash Blonde to cover the ever-expanding gray and I must get it NOW while I still have some spare money...

Teenagers and cars: WHY? Why can't we make them ride bikes (too dangerous) or take the bus (they will be late for school) or walk (too far) until they are in their early 30's and skip this part of their lives where they will methodically mess up each and every vehicle they can weasel their way into?

And then I was remembering a conversation I had with my son, "Big D" as he calls himself on his cell voice mail, about two weeks ago when he took me somewhere in the Wrangler.

Me: D slow down, you took that turn on two wheels.

D: Mom, I'm going 35 mph. Jesus, relax.

Me: I can't relax when the vehicle I am riding in is on two wheels.

D: Mom, I know I've had a difficult past with driving and sh*t, but believe me, I've turned over a new leaf. I'm not the old D, this is the New Improved D. I am allowing plenty of space between me and the car ahead, I'm being careful, I'm anticipating craziness from other drivers. You don't have to worry, Mom.

Me: Ok.

New Improved D just messed up the left fender. By the way, that is the same D that messed up the right fender just a few months ago, when allegedly a column got in the way of him backing up in a parking garage. So now at least the fenders are balanced out, both crushed in.

Big Sigh. So today is Moan-Day and I'm wondering what will happen to us. I'm wondering if my son will continue to play bumper cars out in traffic. I'm also wondering what will be the outcome of all this. Will I have a house in the future? Will I have a future?

I will try to feel a little more optimistic tomorrow.

Thursday, October 05, 2006

My Songs

Ziggi tagged me on this one. Songs that mean something to me, and obviously I'm going to like them too... There are so many, here it goes:

My Cuban roots: My mom and dad loved music and always had something playing on the record player. So, anything by Trio Los Panchos, Ernesto Lecuona, Celia Cruz, Olga Guillot will take me back to those early days. Also, Agustin Lara, a Mexican artist who sang the most beautiful and romantic songs (Noche de Ronda, Maria Bonita, Veracruz, for example).

Childhood: The Beatles were and will always be my idols. I was nine when I saw them on the Ed Sullivan Show (So you don't have to do the mental math, I'm 52) and they might as well have been from another planet, they were so adorable with their moptops and their chic skinny suits. My favorite Beatle song of all time is "Ticket to Ride." And when "Help" came out I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.

Pre-Teen: "Cherish" by The Association was a song that all pre-teens could slow dance to and it was then possible to steal a kiss and maybe make out if you were off dancing in a corner and the adults were looking the other way (hardly ever happened!).

Teen: Santana "Abraxas" was the background music during my teen years. Every song on that LP was great. My sister and I shared a bedroom and we had a clunky record player on the floor and we would play that record over and over again until we fell asleep. Hope it didn't have any subliminal messages.

Young Adult: It may sound silly or something but I loved the Bee Gees. So did my sister. When my sister got married and had my niece she would sing "The New York Mining Disaster" to her ("In the event of something happening to me, there is something I would like you all to see...). Another favorite was "Lonely Days" (Lonely days, Lonely nights, where would I be without my woman...").

Full-blown Adulthood: "China Girl" by David Bowie, I don't know why, loved the beat and the video was cool.

Now: My kids were raised on Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton, Led Zep, Guns 'n' Roses, U2, AC/DC. When they were little they didn't like this kind of music (because they preferred "The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round") but they grew to love it and now that is about all they hear.

My All-Time Favorite Song: "All I Want is You" by U2. Why? I don't know. I love everything about it, and I love Edge's guitar, I love Bono's voice, I love the lyrics, I loved the video.

Off to check if FE did his list.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

The Female Mythtique

At the university where I work, they teach this class entitled "Psychology of Women." The course description reads as follows:

"An examination of women from various perspectives, such as biological, anthropological, mythological, religious, historical, legal, sociological, and psychoanalytical points of view. Discussions of ways in which these various perspectives influence the psychological development of contemporary women."

My question is: "HUH?" I checked all of the psychology class listings and guess what, folks? They do not offer a "Psychology of Men." Does that surprise you? Before anyone comments on the apparent feminism of this post, let me assure you that I am not what you would call a real feminist. I believe that each person, regardless of gender, holds a place in the world, in nature, in society and so things always even out.

You may be thinking: What does she mean by that? And I would answer: If you are a woman and are a genius, there is NO WAY that our society can keep you down. They may pay us 75 cents to a man's dollar, but in the end if you are intelligent, persistent, a hard worker (at least at first), and you know what you are doing, you will rise like the cream in milk. Can't keep good people down, that is my belief.

However, why don't they teach a "Psychology of Men?" What is up with that? So does that mean that regular Psychology classes are based only on male psychology and this one class will explain the female? Ridiculous.

It bothers me that there should be a class dedicated to explaining the female psyche, as varied and as complex and as different as women are. This class would explain exactly what? That we were the gatherers whereas men were the hunters? Then, jumping a few thousand years, women were the homemakers and men the breadwinners? I just don't understand it. Why do we merit a special class to explain our psychology and isn't that a crazy thing to try to do? The way I see it, you cannot lump people together. You cannot catalog people by gender or by ethnicity or by nationality or by sexual orientation or anything. It is enough to make a stupid statement like "Women are maternal" to be shown examples of women who abandoned their kids, or neglected them, or in extreme cases even murdered them.

A few days back a coworker told me a story about being in line at a clothing store and a hispanic female tried to butt in the line and my coworker told her off in English (she is white), and the woman acted like she didn't understand English. My coworker said to her that that's the reason hispanics should not be allowed into this country. Now, my coworker knows that I'm also "hispanic" (a label which I dislike and is totally inaccurate anyway, but that's another post). When she finished, I blinked my eyes a few times. Then I said to her: "You know that that was an asshole problem, not a hispanic problem." And she replied, "Yes you're right." Sigh. Moral: Please don't generalize.

If they offered, for example, a class called "Cuban Psychology." What would that be like? Or another example: "Psychology of Bible-Belt America." Or "Gay Psychology." I don't think any of those would be approved, so why "Psychology of Women?" If I was the professor I'd show up the first day of class and say "OK, people, the difference is that women have two X chromosomes and men have an X and a Y. Discuss among yourselves. Everyone gets a Pass grade. You are dismissed. Yeah, dismissed for the whole semester, go home. Or go wherever you like, just don't stay here."

Makes me mad. (I didn't want to say "It pisses me off.")