(And all you parents worried about your children smoking)

Here's a great idea, while we're morally policing the populace: if we're going to go after tobacco companies for their harmful advertising that obviously induces some sort of mind control in our young people, let's put Abercrombie & Fitch, Mattel, Nerf, and Nintendo up there, too. I don't know if you've seen any of their packaging, or the general douchebaggery of any teen who devotes themselves wholly to any one of these companies' products, but I think it's going pretty far to corrupt the youth of America.

I know a lot more people that don't smoke than do. Most of the ones that don't are young, and, this feels worse to me, naive, self-proclaimed free-thinkers who wouldn't so much as poison their bodies with MEAT, much less smoke.

Even through all that, though, I can get behind some of this bill. Those "400,000" Americans that die in "tobacco-related illnesses", though? Get thee behind me, Satan. Most of us who smoke are way past your scare tactics now. To say that someone who smoked a pack a day for 30 years and died of lung cancer probably hurt himself significantly by smoking is pretty sound logic. However, these few, vague facts strung together can not be called irrefutable scientific proof. If you know how the process works, and I'm sure you do, most of those government health statistics come from insurance companies who report information to various health boards. Wanna know why insurance companies ask if you're a smoker. Yes, that's right-- if you are or ever were, and you die of a terminal illness, they can categorize this as dying from a tobacco-related illness.

And you bet your ass they will, because people love fear.

Now, I'm not endorsing kid's commercials and baby onesies with Joe the Camel. To me, most of that stuff is a historical footnote for amusement value, like the Flintstones Winston commercials. No cartoon character ever convinced me to smoke, and my most beloved comic book characters are not smokers. If anything, my crazy fucking parents drove me to smoking. I imagine a good portion of the underage smokers in America will probably tell you a great story that boils down to doing something everybody would freak out over them doing. For a teenager, this means everything is fair game. It might actually come back to, maybe, I dunno, policing your own damn kids and not me, too?

Anyway. I wanted to let you know I get where you're coming from, and I think, at the heart, what's trying to be done here could be well intentioned. But...

WTF with my flavored tobacco, you Dumbo-earred Joker-grinning MOFO? (I mean that in the politest way, Mr. President.)

FLAVORED TOBACCO? C'mon. Some of us adults, believe it or not, actually like a cognac-vanilla flavored cigar once in a while. I can even get into the banana or grape once in a while. This is another blatant attempt by the government to protect the people from themselves, and quite frankly, we don't need it.

There's this crazy idea that some of us enjoy smoking. There are a few smoking bars in this city, lovely little cafes, really, and there are always people inside, smoking, socializing, eating and drinking. I love Djarum Blacks in the winter time, but only the winter.

Even beyond that, I can think of a few vices we all have ourselves, or have watched for entertainment, that can also be quite dangerous, or fatal, especially if continued for a lifetime. You'd be astonished at the rates on... BDSM, NASCAR racing, bungee jumping, sky diving, sex with strangers, asphyxiation for sexual pleasure, professional wrestling (have you heard what most of those guys' medical charts look like after a while? Eesh), the UFC, alcohol (you know that's a toxin, right? Kay.), football, baseball, uh... yeah, let's just say being a professional athlete of a team sport can ruin your knees/back/neck over a long period... And we all know the memory retention and speech capabilities of those who spend many years in boxing. It can be a hard fact of the business.

We know these things are dangerous, but we've weighed the risk and said for ourselves that our enjoyment of it is worth any drawbacks or risks it may carry with it.

I don't even want to hear the addiction card, either. The phrase you want is chemical dependency, if anything. Modern neurological science has proven love to be an addiction, yes, an actual chemical process that happens in your brain. When you're in love... or addicted to something.. your brain behaves much the same way it would if you were mentally unstable. (I recommend 'The Science of Addiction: From Neurobiology to Treatment' by Dr. Carlton Erickson, 'Addiction and the Brain: the neurobiology of compulsion and its persistence' put out by Nature Reviews Neuroscience in 2001 and published by Elsevier Science. Or just go to Discoverychannel.com and do a search.)

So if we're going to sling the addiction word around, let's at least all be clear on what we mean; socially acceptable addictions, and non-socially acceptable addictions.

I love capitalism, Mr. President, and in that venue, I love that you have done this. Do you want to know why?

You haven't stopped us, you've actually kind of helped me. I've always complained for some time that they don't make enough different flavors of pre-rolled cigarettes that are widely available-- or some just taste like perfume. There are many companies that make flavoring with "multi-purpose use", though, but there's a reason they're sold in head shops along with the "water tobacco pipes." See, with capitalism, with enough demand, someone will make 'it' eventually. I won't walk into my local head shop anymore and be disappointed by the selections of tobacco flavors, and thus, buy the pre-rolled, expensive pack of flavored cigarettes and leave.

Nope, you have now opened the door of opportunity to make what I want-- and what so many people so loudly love to hate-- more available to me. Soon, there will be shelves with all sorts of flavors. I'll buy a few, and the papers, filters, and tobacco, flavor it myself, and then I can make one banana cigarette, or a whole pack. It's entirely up to me. It will be cheaper than a flavored pack. The DIY-resources will last longer, and go farther, and I won't have to worry about not being able to share with my friends who are smokers because "crap, I've only one left, sorry!"

You're going to be renaming my menthol light 100s, but really, I couldn't give two craps about that, because it's only lip service. They won't stop making "lights" or "100s", they'll just call them something else.

Your kids will still smoke, too, but keep on keepin' on with tossing away all of our hard-earned, tax dollars, to stop kids from smoking, to keep Mexicans out, to keep marijuana illegal, and the other inane, pointless things we combat in this country. I'm laughing right now at every single one of your voters that helped lobbyists put this in place.

In closing... thank you for making it easier for me to smoke in the long run, though inconvenient in the meantime while I wait for the market to catch up.

Laughing at you,
Philadelphia Smoker.

hiroe, you'll love this.

http://designphiladelphia.wordpress.com/2009/06/15/septa-hack/

http://www.kyw1060.com/Angry-Mob-Nabs--Beats-Person-of-Interest-in-Child-/4511176

I hope someone ends this monster in the most fucking painful way possible. Bravo, Kensington citizens.

OH MY GOD WHY ARE PEOPLE BEING SO FUCKING STUPID THIS WEEK?

Is Mercury in retrograde or some other astrological horseshit? Has anybody else noticed this? Is it just me?

There are some motherfuckers that I know can behave better, but it's like they ALL decided AT ONCE to chug the spiked pickle juice. THIS IS NOT A GOOD IDEA.

Stop drinking the pickle juice, yo. It is SPIKED.

Watching Spider-Man 3 was like getting a make-out session with the Hollywood hottie of your choice, only to discover they taste like dog food.

I'm a vicious defendant of the fandom interpretations I write behind, be it fanfic or roleplay.

People know this, though I'll also be the first to admit anyone that's interacted with me for more than twenty minutes probably already knows my fannish dislikes, each of them, in alphabetical order, and in precision detail. I'll also be the first to admit I like the sound of my own typing, so here goes.

I'm going to talk about the new Star Trek movie briefly as an example, or more accurately, the myriad of reviews I've heard in the past few weeks. (And before that, because before viewing Joe couldn't stop frothing at the monitor in waxing and waning spurts of fanboyish delight and revulsion. Thankfully the final review from Ensign Pickypants was good, as I have an unnatural obsession with Karl Urban and would go see anything up to and including 2001: A Space Odyssey if he was in it.)

Abrams has constructed a re-imagination, apparently tied into the original canon through a literary device I like to call Pink Negatachyons. It's a lame super-science or mystical super-powered phenomenon of some sort to allow a villain to get away with something seemingly impossible. I generally attribute it to writers being lazy because I feel all things can be made plausible with the proper application, effort, and love. Anyway, it was a relatively minor device used briefly, only as setup to a generally enjoyable flick. Some fans don't seem to share my views, even further that an opinion as such couldn't possibly be a fan. To which I disagree; though it's true I'm not a Trekkie and couldn't even tell you which Enterprise was which without massive descriptors, I am a fan.

I'm an Emma Frost fan, too, and I won't be going to see the new X-Men movie because of it. I don't enjoy the re-imagination of Emma Frost as diamond-powered, but at the same time, I have to give it credit where credit is due. The addition of this power and Emma's spotlight into the X-Men both as a good guy and as Scott's partner re-launched the character into popularity. Admittedly, I have not enjoyed much of the product of her new popularity, but perhaps someday. In the end, I'm content that when I speak to passing fans of the Marvel universe, they won't go “Who?” when I tell them I'm an Emma Frost fan. More people know who she is now, and because of that, Emma's gained a little more longevity in literary history.

The re-imagination doesn't invalidate or hurt my interpretation, and in truth, whether I think it's stupid or not is inconsequential. I'd laugh at anyone egotistical enough to think they could “ruin” something I love, as their love or hate of said thing bares absolutely no weight on my own. This applies the same for them creating things from their interpretation. I may not want it in my backyard of the universe, but fandom is a big damn backyard.

I have plenty of evidence behind why I think the secondary mutation storyline in Marvel was stupid, why I hate the new definition of Emma, and a myriad of other things I have canon on that can be interpreted to support me. The problem with evidence in literary mediums, however, even “cold, hard facts”, is interpretation. This is a backbone of most of my arguments in fandom, and why many have considered me to be so contradictory and confusing that it's better not to deal with me. I can see where they're coming from, mostly because I am always arguing a larger view of things than the smaller one, but I like to think this issue is the bridge between both that is so often forgotten.

While I may have good counter arguments to my vision of the character, for fandom to survive, someone has to carry it on. Inevitably, people will reinvent the original. It is the heart and soul of fandom, and why those things we love can survive the ages. We are giving it immortality by allowing, yes, even crazy pairing nuts that make no sense, to carry it on to others.

Do not undersell fandom's ability to find the backstory and make their own decisions. While this is truth, despite and for this reason, there is rarely any “true” canon that CAN be recognized in fandom because the continuity is free to the whims of its populace; it MUST be. Even further, this lends credence to my belief that there is room for everyone, and all ideas, tangents, retcons, and interpretations, but not everywhere. Know where you are in the universe, and know when to move on. You wouldn't start spouting a Jewish prayer in the middle of a Christian church's sermon. Likely you will find some people that are more accepting of your ideas... and likely if the folks you diverge from are acting like immature brats over your decision, they're idiots anyway.

(Any further than that and we're just to discussing a thing for all places, and a place for all things, and that's not an argument I'm willing to engage in pretty much anywhere because it's very much perspective-based, and always turns out to be an exercise in politics and aggression.)

Wise words to the crazy feminists out there.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/magazine/8064449.stm

OMG. Okay, I just made this for dinner. It was AWESOME. Everyone must try this.



You'll need:

* 10oz package fresh spinach leaves, diced (until it's small enough bits like for a soup)
* 1/2 cup sour cream
* 1/2 cup shredded pepperjack cheese
* 1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese
* 4 skinless, boneless chicken breast halves - pounded to 1/2 inch thickness (or, alternatively, sliced in half to decrease bulk)
* a few slices of bacon, crumbled (bacon bits is an option but not as tasty) ((For my friends out there who don't eat pork, turkey bacon works JUST as well.))
* butter, margarine
* bread crumbs (I tend to get plain and put in my own spices, namely garlic powder, seasoning salt, lemon pepper, and a little bit of chili powder, but italian-seasoned bread crumbs work just as well)
* 1 large baking pan and toothpicks

( Recipe )

If you're going to be a two-faced, egotistical asshole that insists everything your way is right, and everything everyone else's way is wrong--

AND you're going to play double standards by getting angry at certain people for things they do, and NOT me for doing the exact same thing, because I'm your friend?

I have no time for you. Seriously. Grow the fuck up. Behavior is not excused because of its source. Either the behavior is flawed, or it is not.

I haven't slept closing on 35-some hours now. The approaching holiday vexed me, though in the past I have never paid any attention to it. I forget most holidays. This one loomed.

So an hour after I went to bed, at 4:30 this morning, I got tired of tossing and turning and started to unpack. I put on Roseanne as background noise, which is a show I normally adore but instead I had vitriol toward every character. Roseanne especially. 'WTF, lady? Do you have to be a nasty @#$% and control everything and everyone in your families' lives? People like you are why divorcing/suing your parents/spouse is a good idea.'

Yes, I realize the entire premise of the show is that Roseanne is a crazy bitch, but it never nagged at me like that before. I think perhaps my own personal life has ruined something for me. Anyway, we got the living room totally unpacked, got the couches set up, and found a ton of our clothes we'd been joking about starting an archaeological dig for.

Then Harris called but would not stay near the phone or even really talk at it except to yell from the other side of the room, and not quite 'to' me, but it was heavenly hearing his voice. It was good to hear him having fun and playing with the other kids in the back. My boy can READ now. He'll sit down and read a BOOK! And he plays soccer. They're having some trouble getting him up in the mornings for practice, but I'm going to try and find a group his age he can play with when he comes home (hopefully in July if his ESY goes well).

I can not fucking believe I'm a soccer mom, or that I would ever be so proud to be. Just simply that these educators have reached him enough that he can play a GROUP SPORT now... I can't even describe how much that means to me. It's the best mother's day present I could have ever gotten.

Kris also came by today. We walked up to the station to pick her up, then stopped at the grocery store on the way back to the apartment. The couch system in front of the TV works with a group, we made cheeseburgers, gabbed through hours like geeks do, watched the most recent Daily Show, and the Simpsons episode The Good, the Bad, and the Drugly before we walked her back to the station. Plans have been made for next week when we have money to go see the Star Trek exhibit at the Franklin Institute, and go see the new movie as a topper to the night.

It's the first mother's day without mom here. Going through more of her things today as we unpacked was... painful and cathartic. I got an email from Tabby which was nice because we've been keeping better ties since mom's passed. I realized I had spent so much time maintaining what little stability I could with mom that I was often lax in returning communication with her. My uncle sent me a short text message for the day, but did not return the message when I wished my grandmother the same, and asked for a family update. It makes me wonder why they bother. I don't understand people.

Not a bad day but I have a feeling from now on this holiday is always going to be bittersweet.

So make sure you don't just call your mom today, or buy her something. Really let her know you love and appreciate her. As children, it's sometimes hard for us to look at our parents the same way we do other people. (not that dads don't, but that's another day) We pay homage to it, but we don't really think about all the tough choices moms make, all the sacrifices, the crying, the sleepless nights, the worrying, the hours of dedication and effort expended not for a monetary value, not for personal gain, but for love.

It is often a thankless job, and your paycheck comes in smiles, growth spurts, and accomplishments. It is a tiring job, and a highly emotionally rewarding one, as well as being utterly heart wrenching sometimes. It is a hard damn job; I believe being a good parent is the hardest job in the world. There's no manual, no how-to guide, no FAQ, or CSO you can call, no matter what people will try to sell you on. And even if everyone tells you that you did a magnificent job? You always worry. You always fear and doubt for that little person you helped bring along, because even doing a magnificent job does not guarantee success and safety to them.

It is the scariest job there is, having another human being's development trusted to you.

So whoever "mom" is to you, thank her for being who she is, and be a part of the life that helped, if not to make you, to mold you. Not just today, but whenever you can. Whenever you think of it.

And good damn job to all the moms, and surrogate mothers (paradisacorbasi), that I know out there. You build and shape the human race for another generation, and for that, every day you are heroes to someone.

Happy Mother's day, mom.

1) Offer to help Kiko move.

2) Come up with lame excuses/things you knew ahead of time you had to do and conveniently "forgot" when told it is time for previously offered assistance.

2A) Invite Kiko out to social events when you know she's moving, but quickly dodge any line of questioning that may recruit you for said cause.

3) Arrange to meet with Kiko after the move is over to see the new place, then cue lame excuses and conveniently forgotten appointments. Again.

3A) Don't show, and dodge her calls and IMs.

4) Receive nastygram.

*Supplies unlimited at participating locations.

New apt. Really full. Barely any room to move. Sick of boxes. Exhausted.

Finally here.

Coming soon:

1) Death & Resurrection: Satisfaction and static fiction
2) Roundhouse: A story of lock-up!
3) Welcome to the Old Apartment: the Nightmare Year, Moving out of my Dream House, and Breaking Even

We need a systematic matter of reorganization of how we as a culture talk about rape. Right now, the culture is set up to discuss rape only in one way, and if someone attempts to shift that, they are either laughed off, or told to shut up. The post in question that I had an issue with discussed date rape specifically in terms of what men do to women, and that's not an accurate depiction. I noted the inaccuracy, and was shouted down for it.

Let's face it: whenever there has been oppression, if someone attempts to speak up about it, they're told to quiet down, because this isn't the time or place to discuss it. Our culture may not oppress men as systematically or obviously as it does women, but at least when it comes to men as rape victims, they are told to be silent, that they wanted it, etc. If men can't discuss male rape victims in a discussion about rape... when is it appropriate? How, then, are we to shift the way we discuss rape?

In short: this discussion should be about rape -- not just the way one gender is raped by another. Open the conversation the way it needs to be. I certainly didn't wish for this conversation to go this far down the trail of "Let's talk about men being raped." I merely noted that the writer of the article that Indigo linked to was very limited in the context that she speaks of rape.

So... let's not discuss "male rape" further, then, if the problem here is that this thread has become that. Let's discuss "rape"... which is a valid topic when discussing the effect of this movie.

--crispengray

Only ever talking about yourself and YOUR problems may make you a good feminist, but it makes you a horrible human being.

You're not a woman so you can't possibly relate to me.
You're not black so you can't possibly relate to me.
You've never had an abortion so you can't possibly relate to me.
All of these are petty ways people work their prejudices. Now is not the time and place for you, so can it.

Women don't get the cake on every harm of the human race, so get off your little soapboxes, and GET OVER YOURSELF. Stop blaming people you've never met for something someone else did to you. Maybe if you could open up and relate your story of anguish WITH other people, ANY other people, and you had the real strength you spout off that you have all the time, you wouldn't be threatened by other people searching in the dark for SOMEONE to relate to them.

Not to mention, it's highly hypocritical. WE create those monsters by looking the other way, by saying it's okay to ignore someone else because we're talking about ME right now. What if talking about someone else right then might save their life? What if it was a WOMAN talking in a group of men, and someone told her this wasn't the time and place for her to speak about it? THEY would be complete miserable sacks of shit, too, and none of these privileged cunts would take a second to defend any of these men. (with good reason in the reverse as well) We're women and that entitles us to be bitches, we can make ALL time OUR time.

Maybe you need to take a deeper look into yourself. Maybe all this anger you have is about something specific, and not EVERY man, not every person you perceive as a threat. Maybe, just maybe, all this anger comes from the fact that you're not happy with who you are today and you need someone to blame and make you feel better that it's not all your fault.

What does it harm you to relate to someone else's pain? You are more than just the sum of your experiences, and if you can't identify yourself beyond that, that's really quite sad.

[This is not in reference to the OP, but more the fallout and reactions to all of it, and all the overwhelming stupidity I've been seeing since.]

Half dead and exhausted.

I owe a bunch of you on my flist responses on several different issues. I have received stuffs and will be getting back to folks in the queue ASAP, but moving this week and very tired.

I am still reading you guys, and you're all fabulous. More later.

4 topics today.

1) SciFi/Syfy
2) You knew we'd get there eventually... the commercials have been out for about a week... movie-verse Emma Frost.
3) How to NOT ingratiate yourself to people you're working with/don't know well.
4) I'm a year older. Tada.

*
1) I'm not going to stop watching SciFi... or Syfy, or whatever other retarded thing they'll call it in the future. Mostly because I simply don't give a crap what they call it, or that they think geeks, nerds, and science fiction fans are morons. There are plenty of people in the world who think I'm a moron, and I've yet to drop dead (probably much to their chagrin).

Now don't get me wrong, it's not like everything or even most on SciFi is made of win. Honestly, the only reason the channel even has my viewership is because they play ST:TNG, I love reruns late at night of The Twilight Zone, and I dived onto the Battlestar: Galactica bandwagon through the last two seasons. I liked the movies except for Razor, and the second season still sort of grates on my nerves, but they've sold me on watching Caprica, and The Plan (because I can NOT resist stories from the villain's POV. LOVE IT).

I MIGHT give Stargate Universe a chance because the commercial looked damned interesting, but after trying to get the taste of bile out of my mouth after watching the original, and getting my hopes so high for Atlantis which measured as utter fail on my radar, I'm slightly wary. Then again, in bouts of sickness I have resorted to watching SciFi original movies for a giggle, so I guess sometimes blunt head trauma can be a stitch.

2) FAIL. No, you don't have to explain about being visually appealing, or AUs, I get it. I really, really do, and I have encouraged Paul and Joe to go see X-Men Origins and have a good damn time. And I know my one lack of attendance will mean dick in the grand scheme of things, but... uh. UGH. AUGH.

The second time we saw the commercial during a Galactica break, I was actually in the middle of saying, "You know... this might not be so bad. Maybe I'm overreacting and I'll go with--" Then Diamond!Emma came on screen and the repetitions of "NO" started. That was all she wrote.

3) I got 3 invites for something to do for my birthday. How to not ingratiate yourself to people: ( Two examples )

4) is actually about how to ingratiate yourself to people: invite them to a bitchin' ass party of other bitchin' college students in their own age bracket the night before their birthday!

So, Jesy by extension of Sarah invited us to her potluck party. It was out in Gray's Ferry, which is a scary-ass neighborhood, but WTFever, right? We've lived in the ghetto.

Oh my.

The house was AMAZING, the people were awesome, but the neighborhood was scary. The back yard had an awesome smoothed stone wall, with a bitching social space completely blocked off from the rest of the neighborhood. The food was great, my mac and cheese disappeared before even half the party showed, and Paul's homemade banana nut bread was gone before we left.

Everyone looked at me like I grew a third eye when I suggested venturing out to the local Chinese store for soda mixers. In the end I got handed a wad of cash, and Paul, Joe and I walked the few blocks as a group. It was actually surprisingly quiet, the few people that were out were just hanging out on stoops, and everyone just kind of nodded their head at us and paid us no mind. Maybe just the fact that we were crazy enough to be out at 11PM in that area made them leave us alone, but I'm thinking the folks simply made more fanfare about it than necessary. Then again, I lived in Chester, and this place looked like a cakewalk compared to Sun Village or the west side.

All in all, an awesome party and an awesome night.

There are some days that I load up AIM, and the only thing I want is for mom to send me one of those annoying little joke IMs she used to send me all the time.

I can't bring myself to delete her AIM name from my list even though I know it'll always say "Offline".

At the same time, I can't stand to look at it.

The boxing match continues with me and this year.

I got my first ASL test back for this semester. I kicked the test's ass, and apparently bombed SO bad on my narrative that it brought me down to a D. I feel better about it because most of the class failed, only 3 people managed a C. I spent days prepping and standing in front of a mirror like a moron and spent two hours practicing with my classmates just before we all went on. I got in front of the audience and absolutely choked. I had a feeling it would be bad but not quite that fucking bad. Time to study my damn ass off because I plan to make honors again and I won't with a fucking D hanging over my head.

Paul and I decided to walk the loop between the art museum and city hall just to get my head clear. We passed a used bookstore on the way that smells like old books and coffee. They're hiring so we made a stop in so I could apply, and basked in the smell of old tomes in a crappy but bright building stuffed into a hole in the wall. Best sort of bookstore, IMO.

When Paul went to class, I called dad to see how he was and possibly pick me up after the news of my narrative. He's got fluid building in his chest again, so they've inserted a tube and commanded him to bedrest with a nurse. They don't want to crack his chest open again so soon after the last time, but they might have to. I tried to be supportive but I got off the phone and had to sit in the bathroom for a bit just to not walk off campus and call it a bad fucking day.

Day turned better when I ran into Sarah and LilRed, and then later caught up with Sadi who I haven't seen since last semester. Kris finally got on campus so we could study, then she treated me and Paul to a beer before she ran off to class.

Tomorrow is more studying and possibly working out with Kris. Even if I don't make it to the gym, my two-mile walk around campus is at least scenic and good for my head. Then again I may just sleep in and spend the day studying. I don't think leaving the house is in the cards tomorrow.

I was going to watch Dollhouse, but then I remembered I could watch The Bourne movies and be much better entertained with a lot less of the crap.

I feel better. Now. *huffs*

Well, still not dead, although I'm feeling like it these days. School starts next week and I have been waiting all break to get the hell back. Never thought that would happen. (good news on the grades front in a minute)

In the interim, it's been a really shitty holiday break. I'm glad it's over and I hope everyone had a better holiday than I. Harris made out like a bandit once again, including a Build a Bear gift card we're saving for a trip to Cherry Hill with Joe's family, and two robots Paul and I might've had more fun playing with than Harris.

For those that are up to date on such things, the fallout from mom is that the Philadelphia DA's office is full of self-righteous idiots. We never got to hear exactly what mom accused me of, but her own history and the fact that the DA could get NOTHING on me, and I had witnesses, blew holes left and right through whatever case they thought they had. The charges got dropped and it's being completely expunged from my record.

There's also some health stuff that is soon to be taken care of, but I don't feel much like talking about that. Months of feeling bad I've gotten tired enough explaining gross and private anatomy things to family and friends in real life, so much later on that.

Much more entertaining is the good news. We're all eligible for workstudy, and Joe may be going to the campus library to work. If he can control himself enough not to get lost in the stacks *G*, it'll be really good for him, and not just for the incredible references he'll make as he's getting into law. (And please Gods give my restless husband something to do)

Second, I don't know how the fuck it happened, but we ALL made the academic honors list. We just found out today when Joe got his acknowledgment letter, and we looked it up only to realize it's based on GPA, and we all made it. I haven't called dad and told him yet, but when we found out, we all screamed. For several seconds.

So, after everything 2008 dumped on us, we all made honors anyway. Chester school district told me I wasn't smart. I had people all my life telling me how stupid I was, or if I did have any intelligence, it was totally wasted potential.

Finding that out today was like the ultimate "EAT ME!" to ALL of those motherfuckers. Knowing I busted my ass, ate and slept way too little, knowing that I COULD focus myself after all that? It makes the shitty fucking year totally worth it. At some point after mid-terms I lost my steam and had given up on the idea of making Honors. I felt swamped and behind and failed at least one exam and was simply content to pass my classes by the skin of my teeth. I checked my grades three times today just because I had to keep looking at it to believe it.

I wish mom was here to share this with me, but I'm trying not to dwell on that. I know whatever problems mom had, and whatever in life hindered her from achieving real peace and happiness, she was happiest with us, her family, and she celebrated our little victories with us. I'm taking those things in comforting memory instead of beating up on myself for all time about what more I could've done to keep her here with us. She'd be proud of this, and that's enough.

AND, once more out of the depressing, I close with funny ha-has that have been shared.

SO NSFW but funny as hell: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Id_AsfrnuQw

REALLY NSFW #2. The comments to this are just as awesome as the content itself. BAD Micah no cookie for reminding me of the awful movie Event Horizon as that's the first thing I thought of. I will now add that particular 'haunted' line to my vocabulary : http://www.the-isb.com/?p=980

To save you from how disturbing that experience likely was, this is awesome AND office-viewing friendly: http://the-isb.blogspot.com/2006/09/battle-you-demanded-gorilla-versus.html

Happy new year, people.

I'm sure that yahoo! news finds the slaughter of people just as intriguing as you or I, but neither Israel nor Palestine ever gave us anything as entertaining as Grease... OR Battlefield Earth if you're the type who likes to throw yourself down stairs for shits and giggles.

It makes complete and total sense that John Travolta's son being dead is what everyone is suddenly talking about, but no one wants to "talk politics", because "war is depressing".

Well.

Guess the aliens didn't cure his seizures very well, did they?

Anyone whose child suffers from a debilitating medical condition, has the ability to FIX it, and does NOTHING should be shot in the head-- end of fucking story. John Travolta is never getting a dime of my money ever again, and I hope just for him there's a Christian Hell.