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Dec. 18th, 2007

fuck you

oh, for fuck's sake...

I posted this in my other LJ, and took screen shots as the stupidity progressed.. am I really associating myself with such a moron??

I guess when she pretended to be Jewish, I should have known it was all over...

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Nov. 16th, 2007

fuck you

a day to remember

Daughter's Nov. 11 chat with veteran brought tears to our eyes
By IAN ROBINSON

When my daughter Jillian was eight, we took her to the then-Museum of the Regiments on Remembrance Day.

My wife's dad and uncle fought in the Second World War: Her dad John, on a corvette guarding convoys in the North Atlantic, her uncle Clayton fighting his way up the Italian boot, cheerfully carving up the enemy with his bayonet and sending home souvenirs of his kills (unit patches and Iron Crosses) to his mom, many of which are now on display in the small-town Legion where he grew up.

John's eyes would get misty when he talked about the friends he made who never came back.

Clayt never got misty. Ever.

John joined the Royal Canadian Navy partly because he was a gentle soul and had no desire to kill face to face.

And because he figured he would survive the war intact or die.

The thought of going through life on crutches or in a wheelchair horrified this talented, semi-pro baseball player.

Clayt, a not-so-gentle-soul, apparently took to war like Rosie O'Donnell to a box of doughnuts.

When he died, on his coffin, there was a picture of him taken in Italy, grinning, sitting on a captured German motorcycle.

What few in the congregation knew was how Clayt acquired it.

Tired of his army issue motorbike breaking down while he delivered dispatches -- and even more tired of his German counterpart on the other side of the front line laughing at him as he motored past -- Clayt solved two problems at once.

He got up real early one morning, snuck across, killed the laughing German and stole his motorcycle.

There were certain members of this generation that you definitely didn't want to mess with.

My wife and I grew up around veterans and we worried that it might be difficult to transmit our sense of gratitude for the freedoms we enjoy to our kids because such veterans were getting scarce.

Jillian never got to know John or Clayt.

She barely remembered the man with the burned face from church, Garnett Trivett.
I used to sing in the men's choir with him, and had noticed the burn scars but never asked.

Only at his funeral did I find out he was burned when a German 88 shell sliced through the turret of his Sherman tank in the Norman bocage and it went up in flames, fully living up to the nickname given to it by its bitter crews, who called it The Ronson, after the cigarette lighter.

That day at the museum, we went inside and moved from exhibit to exhibit.
Ahead was the slightly bent figure of a white-haired man in the blue blazer above gray flannels, Legion crest on one side, an array of service medals heavy on the other. My daughter marched up to him.

We adopted her from a Romanian orphanage when she was three.

Ethnically, she's a Gypsy -- that's right, loud colors, long skirts, tambourines, fortune-telling, the works -- and we used to try to ensure she knew something of her culture until she sat us down and made us stop, explaining that she was a Canadian now.

But she remembered enough to stride confidently up to the veteran to ask, "Did you fight in the war?" He smiled and allowed as he had.

She stuck out her hand, looking solemn.

"Then I have to thank you," she said.

"I'm a Gypsy.

"Do you know what Hitler and the Nazis planned for Gypsies? He was going to kill all of us. The Jews call what happened to them during the war The Holocaust. Gypsies call it The Devouring", she told him.

"So if you hadn't stopped them, I wouldn't be here... Thank you beating them so I could be born and, you know, live and stuff."

Turns out we needn't have worried about Jillian being able to relate to acts of remembrance on Nov. 11. We should have worried about bringing enough Kleenex. Between the vet, my wife and me, we went through a bunch.

Nov. 5th, 2007

fuck you

old neighbors, new beginnings

Oh, so tired.... I've been sick the last few days with an icky cold, but have gone in to work anyway. I actually like my job, so it isn't difficult. The neighbors upstairs and across the way have been intolerable. Actually, the upstairs neighbor is very nice, it's his crack-whore of a girlfriend who 'doesn't live here' (yeah, right) who makes all the fucking noise. It's like she never sits down. Then again, you can't expect courtesy or respect from someone who broke up a marriage... poor guy got his stereo and the tv. There is literally no furniture in that apartment whatsoever. He says he plans on getting some soon, which might absorb some of the noise. In addition, the women next door (upstairs and downstairs both) let their dogs go ape shit, barking and howling all fucking day long. The downstairs lady actually left her windows open, (with no screen) and lets them just sit there and bark at everyone and everything that goes by.. and some things that don't. Not to mention the fact that she has a Dalmatian and another medium size dog who could easily jump out said window and be long gone. Idiot. At least we are moving soon..

On that note, I am VERY excited to be getting out of this apartment!! The new place is much quieter and in a better location, as well. I am not excited about moving my piano again, but it's time. We've been here way too long already. We're taking the cupboards Andy painted and the management doesn't care because they're renovating all the apartments when people move out, so they were just going to junk the old cupboards, anyway. This way, we get to keep them, and everybody's happy.  =)

Off to bed now.. tomorrow we find out when we can move in. I can't wait!

Nov. 2nd, 2007

fuck you

wishful thinking

Barring the threat of racism, persecution and execution, I fail to understand why anyone would wish (or pretend) to be a different race than they are. I also fail to understand how people of my age group (or younger) who were born in America to American parents can claim to have been personally affected by the Holocaust (especially when said people aren't even of the racial background to have had family members who would have been taken to the camps).

Likely, you're curious what the hell I am blabbering about, so I'll provide some insight. Below is an excerpt from a friend's journal that I read this morning. There are comments, as well, from myself and others. Her entry is about her philosophy on debate and which topics she feels are not appropriate to discuss. While I agree with what she is saying, her argument about why she won't discuss one of those topics really got under my skin...

First off, while she is in fact (part) Native American, she is not Jewish, by religion or ethnicity. I assume that throwing in the word 'Jew' is supposed to give more weight to her argument as to why she won't debate in favor of genocide, though I think most of the population (from various backgrounds) feels the same way, so I don't see how it was necessary. It's as if the Native American genocide isn't enough, so let's throw in some Holocaust 'keywords', no matter their inaccuracy. Nevermind those who actually are Jewish and actually did lose family in (or themselves survived) the Holocaust. I'm sure they won't mind her putting on her little 'Jew' costume and ranting about everything she's had to endure by *not* being Jewish. I'm sure they won't see that as disrespectful at all.. and while we're on that subject, I'd love to know, what 'dead relatives' on the Native American side she was close to that this affected her so profoundly, considering the Trail of Tears happened in 1838? That's nearly 170 years ago. While I understand that people (even those who have no ethnic or historical connection) are saddened and disturbed by these events, it seems more than a bit over the top to be claiming a personal connection to relatives you (or your parents) never knew. Being Romani, I'm sure I have relatives who died in concentration camps, but I don't go on about that as if it has had some sort of profound affect on my life. I mean, let's get real here.. in this day and age, when you're born in America, to parents who are American citizens, you've led a sheltered and privileged life compared to your ancestors of 150+ years ago. Hell, even today Romanies still face racism, persecution, hatred and forced sterilization. The average caucasian American citizen has very little knowledge or connection with this kind of brutality. You can read a book about the Holocaust or the Native American genocide and be disgusted by what happened, but the reality is that most of us are going to go about our day, sending text messages, bitching about traffic, never really taking in how fortunate we are. It's like a bad dream.. the problem is, it isn't one. It actually happened, to millions of people, and in the case of WW2, there are still people alive today who do understand what it was like in those camps because they were in one themselves. They survived the starvation, the daily beatings, the medical experiments, the gassing of their families, the freezing cold temperatures, the rampant disease, the ditches filled with bodies, the smell of burning flesh.. and, yet, people still have the nerve to say they 'wish [they] were Jewish' or 'wish [they] were Romani'. I say to those wishful thinkers, you wouldn't have felt that way if they were hauling you and your family off to be exterminated. You wouldn't feel that way if every time you closed your eyes you were back in the camps, waking up in a cold sweat every morning, having been 'liberated' in the flesh but in your mind never able to escape the terror of those memories. The truth is, you pompass, arrogant, ignorant jack ass, you wish you had an ounce of the courage these people had, and have, to face something worse than death. You wish you were anything but the insignificant little prick that you are... and when you say stupid shit like that, I wish you were, too.

Oct. 31st, 2007

fuck you

lol... lmao... omg... wtf

I randomly came across an entry in someone else's journal, and it amused me so much that I had to comment. I'll paste the text here so you can get the full effect, and then I'll post my comment. Judge for yourself.. too bitchy?

 
I posted anonymously because I don't want a bunch of drama, but I had to say something about this gross misuse of the English language. Anyway, people's personalities often don't transfer well through the internet and their blogs, so she's probably a lot more intelligent than this post makes her seem.. I hope.

I twisted my ankle this morning and actually fell in the process. Now my back is all messed up again (after 4 car accidents and multiple fractures of my spine it doesn't take much), I have a migraine and it hurts all the way from the top of my neck down to my right foot, in addition to the obvious throbbing pain in my ankle. I called my Dad and joked that I think I may have sprained my leg.. he got a good laugh out of that. So, it's ice tonight and the chiropractor tomorrow if I can get in. I have serious issues with my spine and pinched nerves between my shoulder blades and neck that cause headaches from hell and nothing takes them away except an adjustment (or four). There's a $40 co-pay down the drain.

I finally got the rest of my tax info so that I can apply for my financial aid. THANK GOD. I lost my W2 from my last employer and dealing with them is no less impossible now than when I worked there. It's pretty bad when you have to email the CEO just to get a copy of something that should be relatively easy to find. In any case, hopefully that was the last time in my life that I ever have to deal with them. *shudders*

Oh, I almost forgot... Happy Halloween, everyone! My best friend called and asked what I was going to be this year.. I said 'a Gypsy' and he said "not dressing up again this year, eh?" lol

Oct. 27th, 2007

fuck you

(no subject)





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out of style

I've been trying to set aside some time to work on my websites, but it just doesn't seem to be happening. *sigh* I did manage to put together a new layout, which can be found here. I probably could branch out and use different artwork, but (obviously) I really, really like that one, probably because husband thinks she looks like me.. or I look like her.. one of the two. She has the Romani nose.. I wonder if that was intentional on the part of the artist, since she otherwise looks very stereotypically 'Gypsy'. Hmm.. probably not.

I had the (dis)pleasure of trying out LiveJournal's new customization area while doing the new layout. As usual, their 'improvement' isn't one. I feel like I always bitch, and it's probably because I've been on here for so damn long, but I have to ask the same question I always do, and that is could we make actual improvements to parts of the site which desperately need it, instead of 'fixing' what isn't broken and making everything more complicated? It's obvious they are gearing up to completely get rid of S1, and if that happens I'll be rather fucked off at them, since most of my layouts use the S1 style system. The ease of customization (and the extent to which the 'generator' style can be customized) is one of the main reasons I still use LJ for my main journal, instead of sites like VOX or Xanga, where the options are more limited. If I wanted MySpace (or Xanga, or Blogger, or VOX) I'd bloody well use their sites. Why can't LJ stay LJ? I don't get it..

Oct. 24th, 2007

fuck you

the poop nazi

Django was neutered yesterday. We'd planned to do it anyway, but recently he'd developed this little puppy attitude problem, with the charming addition of peeing everywhere (including on me, the seat in the Jeep, on Andy, on the floor, the bed, etc..) so it was time. I elected not to get him pain medicine, and before anyone jumps all over me about how cruel that is, the vet was in agreement, and this is why... some dogs (particularly puppies) don't settle down after the procedure. One of the dogs I had in the past was just as wild and crazy when we picked him up after surgery as he always was, and that can be dangerous as they could tear something inside and end up with internal bleeding or an infection, which would require more surgery to correct. In truth, a neuter is a fairly minor procedure compared to a spay, where the female is actually cut open and major organs removed. A neuter is a small incision and removal of the testicles through said incision, which is why pain medication is an option and not required. Sure enough, after his initial phase of grogginess (which didn't prevent him from wanting to run around, it just gave him a goofy look for awhile) he was trying to play and jump and be crazy like normal, even without pain meds, confirming I'd made the right choice not to include it. He's a bit more cranky today (after the anesthesia has worn off) and is probably in a bit more pain. When we pick him up, he whimpers and it is so sad, but it's better than serious internal injury. I'm just glad it's done. I hate putting animals under anesthesia, especially one who has no prior experience with it. It's rare, but some animals don't do well with it, and they just don't wake up. He did really well and is eating and not having any trouble (other than pain) so we're very relieved.

We ran into a crazy woman at the park the other day, a total stranger who felt the need to harass us on our morning walk. I was on the phone (making Django's appointment) and Andy was standing with Gizmo, who was in the process of doing his business in the grass. Out of nowhere, this woman and her German Shepherd came over and started yelling at us, asking if we were going to clean up after our dog. Andy explained that we were, when he was finished, and she continued to get in his face, so I told the vet I would have to call back and closed my phone. I turned to her and asked just exactly what the fuck her problem was, and she asked me who I was, where I lived, etc., to which I responded that none of that was any of her business, and that I certainly don't give my personal information out to total strangers, especially neurotic, crazy ones who accost me for no reason. She went on to say that the park is 'private property', and that we were 'trespassing'. I rolled my eyes and told her we've been coming to this park damn near every day for the past three years, (sometimes twice a day!) and that I wasn't going to let some haughty bitch push me around. She then threatened to call the police, and take down my license plate number, to which I responded, 'go ahead.. why wait until you get home to call them? I'll call them right now!' and picked up my cell phone to do just that. By the time the operator had taken my information and the details of the situation, the woman had already walked off to the other end of the park. The operator asked if I wanted an officer to come to the scene and I told her that the woman had already left, so she obviously knew she was in the wrong, so no officer was needed. We left and considered the matter closed until an officer stopped by my house later that day. There was a knock at the door, but I don't have a peephole, so I never know who is on the other side, and if I'm not expecting anyone I just don't answer. I figured it was a solicitor or some other nonsense, but later when I opened the door to leave, the officer's card fell out of the doorjam and onto my foot. I came back inside and dialed the number on the card, and the officer asked me if I knew why she was calling. I said that I presumed it was in response to the call I'd made earlier about a crazy woman harassing me in the park. The officer was a bit stunned, not knowing any previous calls had been made about the issue, so I said 'let me tell you the whole story', and launched into the events of the morning and the nutcase woman who demanded my personal information, then accused me of trespassing. I further said that the conversation apparently began because she was concerned that I would not pick up my dog's excrement, and pointed out that when the woman came over and began her tyraid, my dog was not even finished with his business, so it made little sense to me why she felt the need to comment while the event was still 'in progress', as it were. I jokingly said, 'what does she expect me to do, hold the plastic bag up to my dog's rear end so that the poop never touches the grass?' The officer got a bit of a laugh of out that.. she also said I was absolutely in the right by not giving out my information, which I knew, and a good portion of the woman's story was false anyway. She had told the officer that 1) I assaulted her, and 2) that we were on the church property, and NOT the park across the street, so it was clear fairly quickly that she was nuts. She also failed to tell the officer that I had already phoned them while still at the park that morning, but that she didn't feel the need to stick around and preferred, it seems, to call from the privacy of her own home and completely lie about the entire situation with no one there to contradict her. By the end of the conversation, the officer said we were not doing anything wrong and that she would tell this woman if she sees us in the future to mind her own business, and we should do the same, which was comical to me, as we were doing exactly that when she decided to harass us. In any case, another sign that it's definitely time to move out of this neighborhood. She will henceforth be referred to in all future conversations as 'The Poop Nazi'.

Oct. 21st, 2007

fuck you

playing dress-up

Tired of being white? Well, it is that time of year again! That magical time when we celebrate a Pagan holiday by dressing up as monsters, ghouls, ghosts and other scary creatures of folklore and legend. Naturally by "other scary creatures of folklore and legend" what is really meant is...


The Misappropriation Parade

Arabic Folk! Add a bomb accessory for extra laughs at your office party!
Hispanic Folk!
Asians! Get you some nunchucks!
Hawaiians! Because despite being colonized their relaxed good-time attitude never dies!
Gypsy? My favorite!
Indians... Native Americans... All the same, right?

Oh, the good times never stop this time of year. But some of you may be asking what I am going to be dressing up as during the holiday season. After all, if I am wearing long flowing skirts and bangles and scarves all year round what sort of costume might I choose? Well, truth be told I was going to keep it as a surprise, but this year I am going to dress up as...

A White Girl


Halloween is upon us, and with it one of the most obnoxious reminders that racist stereotypes of colonized races and cultures are still alive and well and ripe for use as ammunition in the great parade of misappropriation. What ever happened to cutting some eye holes out of a white sheet and-- Oh, wait. Nevermind.

Oct. 20th, 2007

fuck you

placement

I went in last week for placement testing so that I can start school. There are three parts, a math test, a reading comprehension test, and a writing test. When I was finished, I went to speak with the same advisor who had set it up, and he said 'let's just pull your scores up here..' and then his eyes got really big. I scored 100% on both the reading and writing portions of the test. I didn't think much of that, since the test really wasn't very difficult and I figured other people had certainly aced it as well. He said to me, 'these are the highest scores I've ever seen... you could teach these classes!' I was stunned.. not that I did well, but that other people hadn't also scored as high. My math score was not the best, but not the worst, and I wasn't expecting much there since I have always hated math. In any case, he said that I could 'test out' of the introductory writing course, as I clearly didn't need it. His only concern was that once I go to university, they may request that I take it anyway. He called up Portland State to inquire as to their policies on that, and left a message. I told him it was probably a good idea for me to just take it, for two reasons... one, I am starting college for the first time and it would be much less intimidating if I were starting with a class I basically already know, and two... I need to keep my GPA high in order to get into a good law school, so it certainly can't hurt to take some easy courses. He thought that was a great idea. I will also be taking a math class (yay), and a beginning psych course, which should be cake as well, since I read psychology text books for fun (no, I am not joking.. I really am that much of a dork *lol*) So, I'm very excited, and optimistic. I am starting winter term (Jan '08).

The new job is going well.. working for only a few hours in the early morning and then having the entire day off to do what I please is quite nice. It will be fantastic once I start school.. and, my contract is for a year, so I don't have to worry about it going anywhere. I just have to remember to set aside money for taxes since I am considered an 'independent contractor'.

I love my friends... I sent Jamie a message on that other site, about my plans for school and my concerns if I might be 'too old' to be embarking on such a journey, and this is what he sent back:


My Mom didn't start getting her teaching credential until she was 31 or 32, so I'm pretty sure you'll be okay. plus it's not like you're gonna die at 50. with me in the science field by that time we'll have some crazy shit like injections that completely regrow damaged tissue. I'd say shoot for your dreams. Fuck anybody that tells you you can't, cuz they're just projecting their own fear of success onto you. Good luck, but I think you'll do just fine.

Aww.. I have such awesome friends!

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