Awwwwwwww!

I received an email from a cousin tonight.  I loved the personal note he included, as well as the story he forwarded.  I wish Mr. Misha and I had the cash/space/bigger bed to adopt more rescue dogs. 

The back seat of this rescue van almost looks like our bed at night, every night we have four rescue dogs in bed (two are mother and son, Beatrice and Dante both deaf and blind) and two others, a Peak, Judy and a Long Haired Chihuahua , Pippi, ALL physically abused, and ALL from the Bill Foundation, then during the night the four feral kittens now house cats, a year later, pile into the bed to keep warm on cold winter nights..........that's wife and I, plus eight other 

little ones, get up at night and lose your spot, then its the remainder of the night on the couch.

Animals know how to care for one another 

just like friends do for each other.  

Kansas Tornado.....A Great Story

After the tornado (Greensburg, Ks.) 

THIS IS SUCH A GREAT STORY

The story begins with the rescuers finding this poor 

little guy they named Ralphie.  Someone had already 

taken him under their wing, but they weren't equipped 

to adopt.



Ralphie, scared and starved, joined his rescuers...  




I wouldn't think anything could live thru this...but we

were wrong.




This little lady also survived that wreckage.  


Here she is just placed in the car - scared, but safe. 




and then..they are no longer alone!


Instant friends, they comforted each other while 

in the car.  


Add two more beagles found after that...  the more, 

the merrier! 



Oh boy, a new traveler to add to the mix...

(Note:  the cat coming over the seat needing shelter...)  

PHOTO EATEN BY 
BLOGGER 

Now just how is this going to work? 

(and remember they are all strange to one another)




It's going to work just fine, thank you very much!


Wow!  The things we learn from our animal friends...  

If only all of mankind could learn such valuable 

lessons as this.Lessons of instant friendship.

Of peace and harmony  by way of respect for one another -- 

no matter one's color or creed.

These  animals tell you... 

"It's just good to be alive and with others."  

Yes, it surely is.

Springtime College Memories

I went to a Seventh Day Adventist College(I am not SDA). It was located in a little hamlet on top of a hill in the gorgeous Napa Valley. The location of the town made it possible for the college to keep out most of the secular world. Mail was delivered on Sundays instead of Saturday (their sabbath). Caffeine, alcohol, tobacco, meat and condoms were not available for sale up on the hill. One of my instructors was fond of saying "We are only 7 miles away from sin." My response, under my breath, was "Thank God for that!"


Anywho, I always wondered what my SDA postal carrier thought each May 1st when my roommate would get several post cards from friends around the world that simply read:

HOORAY! HOORAY! THE FIRST OF MAY! 

OUTDOOR FUCKING STARTS TODAY!

Happy May Day. Celebrate it however you'd like!

I'm all about Science. #Boobquake

So today women around the world are conducting an experiment.  They are going to see if their breasts can cause an earthquake.  You see, this doofus in Iran thinks that "Many women who do not dress modestly lead young men astray and spread adultery in society which increases earthquakes" so today women are posting their most immodest photos of their chesticular area to see if it will, indeed, cause the earth to quake.  


This movement was started by this women.  Her Facebook page has over 40,000 fans. I figured, since I have ginormous breastesses, I would lend them to this experiment.  If my H-cups can't cause the earth to move, I don't think anything can.  


Here is the most immodest photo I could find of my boobs.  Hysterically, it is a photo of me in my wedding dress!  HA!

I think my dogs are plotting against me.

I love my little furry babies.  They bring me so much peace and joy.  I love them like I gave birth to them myself.  Yes, I really do love my dogs as much as you love your children.  My two little girls are the light of my life.  But as I imagine most parents experience from time to time, I feel like they ganged up on me today.


I was trying to be a good mom (responsible dog guardian) so I decided to clean the pugs wrinkles.  I'm not sure if all pugs have this, but our pug gets this gunk that I refer to as 'plum sauce' in the wrinkles between her nose and her eyes.  While the production of plum sauce has slowed down since we got rid of our carpet in lieu of laminate floors, it seems like she gets more 'saucy' during allergy season.  The pug hates to have her wrinkles cleaned.  If she even suspects that I am going to go near them she will take off as fast as her little stick legs will move her barrel body.  So it is imperative that one devises a plan.


First, I close the bedroom door.  Second, I go into the bathroom and get the unscented, aloe vera baby wipes.  I take a few wipes out and I warm them in my hands so they will be more comfortable for her.  Then I quickly scoop the pug up and plop her on my lap.  I then spend the next 10 minutes wrestling with all 15 lbs of her.  She tries to wiggle away, but I keep a tight grip on her collar.  Since she seems to be just as afraid as Mr. Misha that her eyeballs are going to pop out, she usually gives up.


Whilst I am ridding my little Chinese Pug's wrinkles of plum sauce, I feel a very familiar movement behind me.  It is a movement that I am sure many dog moms are familiar with.  It is the sensation of the bed moving when your dog is about to puke.  The noise sounds like a prepubescent boy swallowing his burps and the movement is a combination of dry-heaving and air-humping.  If I hadn't had a handful of plum-sauce-encrusted baby wipes, I would have snatched the cocker spaniel up and whisked her to the toilet so she could barf like a lady.  But I was too slow and she barfed right there on my bed.


Just then, Mr. Misha walked into the room and noticed the puddle of bile-colored liquid on the bed.  "Hey!  That looks like on of Marcel's foams!"  my sweet husband exclaimed. I gave him a look that let him know I was not impressed with the Top Chef reference and he quickly got the cocker spaniel off the bed so she could continue to barf on the floor.


Now it's noon.  I worked all night at the baby birthin' factory and I am washing all the bedding so I can remake the bed and eventually go to sleep.  As I type this, the dogs, of course, are sound asleep on the bare mattress.  The little bitches, they always seem to find a way to get the bed all to themselves.

Blog for Fair Pay Day 2010

 

Today I am taking time out from my normal blog jackassery (well, not completely- There will be some in this blog, because of course, I am the jackass that is writing it) to write in support of The Paycheck Fairness Act.  I will return to my usual profanity-filled blog posts tomorrow.


I work with approximately 100 women and exactly 9 men.  One of those men is a nurse.  All the rest are Pediatricians and Obstetricians.  I often wonder if that one male nurse makes more than his 99 female co-workers.  Could it be? If he does, is it because he works 12% harder than his female co-workers?  No.  He doesn't.  We all work hard and we deserve to be paid equally.  Pay inequity effects women and families.  It effects each paycheck, it effects their retirement accounts and college funds. Why the fuss over a mere 12 cents per dollar? Over a lifetime, it can add up to three quarter of a million dollars! That is why The Paycheck Fairness act is so important.




What is The Paycheck Fairness Act, you ask?  Well, I just happen to have a little blurb here from the National Women's Law Center website:


"The Paycheck Fairness Act, passed in the House of Representatives in January 2009 and now pending in the Senate, aims to strengthen current laws against wage discrimination and provides tools to enable the federal government to be more proactive in the fight. Among other things, the Paycheck Fairness Act would also close a significant loophole in the Equal Pay Act to allow for full compensation for sex-based wage discrimination."


Doesn't sound to scary, does it?  Why would anyone be against paying women the same wage that men receive for the same job?  Well, the uber-conservative U.S. Chamber of Commerce does.  So does the National Association of Manufacturers. As does the Retail Industry Leaders Association. Along with the American Hotel and Lodging Association.  The Society of Human Resource Management is opposing it too.  You know who these groups represent?  They represent "The Man".  You know who "The Man" is don't you?  He is the one who is always trying to keep you down.  He is the one who signs your paycheck, makes your schedule and tries to oppress you.  We cannot let "The Man" win!  We must fight against him!




So, check out these links below.  Get yer learn on and find out how you can help.  Let's stick it to "The Man"!


Here is more info on The Paycheck Fairness Act


Facts about pay equity


Here is how you can help!

Lost in Translation

Much to the dismay of our crabby next door neighbor, Mr. Misha and I often holler stuff at each other from different rooms.


Usually it is stuff like, "Are you hungry?" or "Did you feed the dogs?"


But sometimes it is goofy stuff like "I fucking love my wife!"  or "My husband is the cutest husband in the world!"  or "Why are these dogs so goofy? Do you think we should give them back?"


On rare occasions it is something important, "You're supposed to be at your doctor's appointment RIGHT NOW!"  or "I'm gonna go get you coffee before you leave for work!" 


Yesterday, Mr. Misha yelled something from his man cave and I completely misunderstood him.




What he actually said: "On the 28th Flight of the Conchords are going to be in Berkeley!"


What I thought he said: "On the 28th the cocker needs to be in a burka!"


I have no explanation.

My Earliest Political Statement

To be truthful, I do not remember this story AT ALL.  It is family lore and has been told to me many times.  Keep in mind; my mother's memory is both selective and creative ... so I cannot vouch for the accuracy of this story. I was December 1970 or 1971. My father, after completing his duty in Vietnam flying Med-Evac helicopters, was flying Marine Corps One for President Richard Nixon.




The White House was having some sort of Christmas party for the staff. It was a candlelight tour of The White House. Knowing my Mother and Father, I am sure that they spent all day getting ready.  My Mom with her hair rolled up in rollers the size of soup cans, except for her bangs, which were taped to her forehead with that pink tape everyone used back then. She probably used enough Aqua Net that night to make her own personal hole in to ozone. My father, in his office, with his groovy music playing on his big reel-to-reel stereo system, polishing his medals and bars. His already perfectly starched and ironed dress blues would be hanging by the door. I am sure that Francis, my heavy-set, black nanny, had scrubbed me up and made me sit still and play quietly until we were just about ready to leave. Right before my parents would leave, she would put me in a clean diaper, stuff me in my starched dress and set a big bow with scotch tape to my nearly bald head.


I imagine that the white house was beautiful. The entire house decorated for Christmas, pine boughs, red ribbons and white twinkle lights placed throughout the building.  Tables of hors 'd orderves and sweets displayed meticulously as staffers went by and tasted the fare. The time came for my mother, father and I to greet the president. The story, as told by my mother, goes something like this:


"Your Father and I took you up to see the president.  He was smiling and seemed very excited to meet you.  Your father introduced me to the president and I shook his hand.  He told me you were a very beautiful baby and then outstretched his arms to hold you. I handed you over to the president; he sat down on a settee and set you on his knee. He was smiling and talking to you, you were smiling and drooling (you were teething and a drool factory at the time) and then all of a sudden, his face changed.  He lifted you up and handed you to me. I noticed a wet mark on his pants where your butt had sat. The president excused himself and I took you to the bathroom to change your diaper. When I came back from the bathroom, your Dad was mortified and the president was wearing a different pair of pants. That is the story of when you peed on President Richard Milhous Nixon."

Skin It

Before I met Mr. Misha, I dated a Sheriff's Deputy named Mark.  ER nurses have the "You'll never guess what my patient had stuck up his ass!" stories. Law enforcement people have good "You'll never guess what this bad guy had stuck up his ass" stories. He would tell me all sorts of stories. I thought I knew everywhere on a body where you could hide your dope.........I was wrong.


Mark was working "Intake" at the jail. This where the patrol cops would bring in people they arrested, where people turned themselves in, etc. So he has to do a strip search on this one bad guy. He takes him into the search room and has the guy get undressed, he tells the guy to squat and cough, bend over and cough, pull you butt cheeks apart and cough, etc. Then he tells this guy to pull back the foreskin on his penis, the guy does it.........and a little baggie of dope goes flying to the floor. The best part, the guy immediately yells; "That's not mine!"




Yet another argument against circumcision.......You can keep your weed in it!

My Mom Is Having An Identity Crisis

This is a picture of my Mom on her 60th Birthday. She is 3 years older now, but she looks pretty much the same. She is 5'2", blond hair, blue eyes, big boobs and a bubble butt.

She came over one day, as it was a spa day for our dogs.  I have a Cocker Spaniel and a pug; she has a Jack Russell Terrier.  We dropped "The Girls" off at the spa, stopped @ Starbucks to get coffee and croissants, and then went back to my house.  My mom doesn't smoke anymore, except when she is at my house, and then she "borrows" a cigarette and smokes it with her mocha.  We sit on the couch and catch up.  She updates me on family issues, dog issues and what she has done for the past few days.  It is usually pretty boring and she usually repeats at least one story she told me over the phone a couple of days before. Every once in a while, my mom tells me a GEM. This is one of them.

She had been at the dollar store in Vallejo.  She had been in the store for a few minutes when a young woman yells out; "Woo wee!  We got a white bitch in the store today!" My mom said she looked around the store and couldn't see the "white bitch".  She kept looking, but couldn't figure out who that lady was talking about.  She said she finished her shopping, checked out and as she was walking out the door ...  She realized that "white bitch" was her.  She started to laugh as she walked out to her car.

Goodbye Nana, The Final Installment

Just like the way she lived her life, the events surrounding her dying, death and mourning were filled with humor.  This is the fourth and final installment, enjoy!


When Nana died, we had a little memorial in Northern California for family and close friends.  It was strange.  The priest showed up at the house, drunk.  He also thought he was coming to the house for a "Blessing of the Home", so he brought the wrong book and had to have his assistant drive him back to the rectory to get the right book.  He came back to the house, said some prayers and everyone shared a story.  It was a little tense.  My cousin's Larry and Elsie  (Nana's nephew and niece from Tampa) were mad at my Aunt Marian and her husband.  Aunt Marian was mad at Uncle John.  Uncle John was mad at my Mom.  My mom was mad at everyone.  I was the youngest one there, but the only one mature enough to get along with the  whole family.  A stressful time was made even more so because I was playing referee for all of my idiotic family and their petty disagreements.  I was glad when we made it through lunch without a family brawl.


After lunch, we were all sitting out in the backyard chatting. My Nana's cousin, Elmira, noticed that both of my dogs were wearing St. Francis medals.  She asked me if I had taken them to church for the "Blessing of the Beasts" on the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi.  I told her that Cosmo, my Jack Russell Terrier, did not get along well with other dogs, so I had never taken them.  She immediately went to Father Tim and asked him if he could bless the dogs.  I took him outside and had the dogs sit.  He mumbled a blessing and sprinkled Holy Water on Candy, my yellow lab. She sat there very sweetly and took it all in.  Then he went to Cosmo.  As he started flinging the Holy Water on him, Cosmo started jumping up and biting at the drops of water.  Father Tim looked at me and said in his drunken Irish brogue, "I think that little one is going to need more than a sprinkle of Holy Water!"


Elmira's husband, Bob had a bad back. As the afternoon wore on, he started complaining about it. I sat him in a chair with a heated back massager thingy, hoping to give him some relief.  He promptly fell asleep in it.  Elmira woke him when it was time to leave.  We were all in front of the house saying our goodbyes when, Bob (who is hard of hearing) YELLED; "Michele, I turned off your vibrator when I woke up!"  Bob and Elmira didn't really get it, they are in their 80's and very devout/naive... but the rest of family burst into laughter.  My neighbors looked at me funny for the next couple of days. 




A month later we had a funeral mass and burial service in Southern California. Nana had been cremated, but she wanted to be buried between her husband and mother.  My stupid relatives were still not getting along, so it was up to me to organize the whole deal and mediate between all of them.  Nana had left instructions on how she wanted the funeral to go, she had picked scripture and songs for the funeral mass.  All I really had to do was plan the wake and get someone to do the eulogy.  No one wanted to do the eulogy, so it was left up to me. I spent days writing and re-writing it, by the day of the funeral I was ready, but nervous.  It went fine, my legs were shaking so much...I was glad the podium was there to hide them.


My family had all sat apart in their separate camps, glaring at each other from time to time.  I hoped they would behave themselves at the wake.  

As I sat in the church, worrying about the potential for a full Jerry-Springer-type brawl, some of Nana's friends from Catholic Daughters came up to me.  They were all very sweet little old ladies.  They told me how much their friendship with Nana meant to them, they told me that I did a wonderful job with the eulogy, then one little old lady came up to me and as she hugged me she said, very seriously; "You know, now that Ferne has passed, you are the only sane one left in the Family."

I looked around at my family, still glaring............and realized she was probably right.