Strong Like Bull

Early on in our relationship, Car performed some awesome feat of strength (I believe it was single-handedly lifting a snowmobile out of a drift) that led my brother to label him “Strong like bull.” (Yes, this was right around the time There’s Something About Mary came out, and that phrase was all over the commercials.) That’s pretty much been his role in our marriage–he’s the rock, and I fall apart at random intervals. He’s freakishly proud of his immune response, and also a firm believer of mind over matter. 

If a man has a wife who is frequently ill, saying “I don’t get sick because I don’t want to” might not be the best idea. I’m just sayin’.

It's the Anti-Car!

Some of my favorite moments in our marriage involve completely random comments from Car that are similar to last night’s conversation:

Me: “The doctor at the instacare says I have strep.”
Car: “That’s probably what I had. My throat was kind of sore.”
Me: “Really? How do you feel now?”
Car: “Oh, I’m better.”
Me: “Umm…I don’t think you had strep, honey. You wouldn’t be feeling better.”
Car: “What, it’s not possible to get over strep without antibiotics?”
Me: “I guess it’s possible, but there’s a good chance of complications.”

I admit, it really is possible he could have had strep, but still. What’s he trying to do, steal my thunder? Prove how woefully inadequate my immune system is?

Remember the big West Nile outbreak/hysteria several years back? Based on a short period of muscle aches and general malaise, Car was convinced that he had West Nile, but came through it just fine. Thanks so much, news outlets, for reporting that many people have just those symptoms with West Nile.

Again, it’s not that he couldn’t have possibly had West Nile…it’s the assumption that every time he gets sick, it’s something potentially serious but somehow he manages to overcome it through the awesome power of his immune system. (Ooh–I almost forgot last year’s magical Swine Flu episode! Seriously. He does this with every major health scare.) (Also, I’m really glad he didn’t do any swimming the year of the big cryptosporidium outbreak. I shudder to think how that would’ve gone.)

He’s the healthiest hypochondriac I’ve ever met. Awesome.

Adventures in Idiocy

There are two techs-in-training at our pharmacy. Tech #1 (we’ll call him Stud, because he is awesome) is helpful, funny, and trying his hardest to learn the many things necessary to be a good tech. Tech #2 (we’ll call him Idiot, because that’s what he is) is self-centered, has no sense of humor, and wants everyone to give him all the answers. Because, you know, thinking is, like, hard and stuff.

As you may have surmised, today’s blog is a treasury of quotes from Idiot. I did not make any of these up.

To a female customer: “Why would you pay $50 for birth control?”
Female customer: “Do you have any idea how much it costs to have a baby?”

“My wife won’t use birth control.” (Idiot is currently engaged.)

“I won’t let my wife see a male doctor. I don’t want any other guy to see her like that.”

“Oh, man. My abs are so sore! I worked them way too hard yesterday!” (This comment, in and of itself, isn’t necessarily awful. Repeated 20 times throughout the day, it begins to grate on me.)

And my personal favorite:

“How do I keep my wife from getting fat after we’re married?”

Dude.

*Yes, I know I missed last night. I fell asleep on the couch and when I woke up at 1:30 am, I just didn’t have it in me. If you count Wordless Wednesday, I’m doing TWO posts today!

**Big G update: The pediatrician said Big G might be having myoclonic seizures. Since he’s not positive, we have an appointment with a pediatric neurologist in 2 weeks. I appreciate everyone’s concern!

You Probably Shouldn’t Have Sex

As many of you know, I have an unnatural fascination with prescription medication commercials. Okay, fine, it’s really just the medications for erectile dysfunction. And no, this obsession has nothing to do with my love life, you perverts.

Anyway, I saw a commercial for Viagra tonight in which a gentleman (we’ll call him “Bob”) was conversing with his reflection. “Are you going to talk to the doctor about our erectile dysfunction?” This concerned me. Does Bob frequently seek advice from his reflection? Or is he speaking in the royal “we”? Either way, I find myself somewhat concerned about Bob’s significant other. Does he or she know about Bob’s disturbing habit of speaking with nonexistent personages?

As I pondered this question, I saw this flash on the screen and decided Bob’s psychiatric condition is probably irrelevant:

Dude. Seriously?

I’d ask if this warning is really necessary, but I work in a pharmacy and am sadly aware that it is. Still, I’d like to go on record as saying that if you’re stupid enough to think Viagra protects against STDs, you’re definitely too stupid to have sex.

In other news, my list of people too stupid to have sex is becoming unruly. Perhaps it’d be more efficient to have a list of the people allowed to have sex. I’ll start working on that.

*Thanks to all of you for your support and encouragement. We have an appointment with the pediatrician next week, so hopefully we can start to get some answers. Now stop making me cry.

**WordPress doesn’t like STDs. But really, who does?

Prostituting Yourself the Morgan Jewelers Way!

I’m annoyed. I keep hearing a radio commercial for Morgan Jewelers, and it’s seriously harshing my mellow. Sadly, I couldn’t find the audio online. I know! How are there still things I can’t find online? This video has a similar message, but it’s nowhere near as retch-inducing.

In the radio commercial, a man is proposing to his…girlfriend? It’s hard to tell, because she obviously has no affection for him. She informs him of her “engagement ring graveyard”–the rings from men she rejected. Did she reject them because she didn’t love them? Were they jerks? Did they beat her? Oh, no. They just didn’t buy the perfect ring. So her current beau produces a ring from (da-da-da-DA!) Morgan Jewelers, and she says, “I love it! I mean…you!” He says, “I’m so glad you like it. I mean…me.“

Hopefully this ad is tongue-in-cheek, but come on. Why are advertisers still perpetuating (even in a humorous manner) the myth that if a man doesn’t buy the perfect ring, his girlfriend will reject his proposal? I suppose there are women who would consider a lousy ring a deal-breaker, but these women don’t actually deserve happiness. (Ha! I kid! Sort of. They might deserve happiness, but if they’re basing marriage on a ring, I doubt they’ll be finding it anytime soon.)

Maybe it’s just my world, but I’m pretty sure trading affection for monetary benefit is prostitution. Isn’t it funny to do a commercial that shows what whores women are when it comes to diamonds? HA! See, ’cause they’re materialistic like that! They couldn’t care less how a man treats them–they just want a big flashy diamond!

I’m fortunate enough to have a lovely ring. It’s my second ring, because I lost my first (insured, thank goodness) wedding ring. Don’t you judge me. Car lost his ring too. Admittedly, it was worth several thousand dollars less than mine, but it wasn’t insured! So really, I totally win that one.

My point? I love my ring, but I love the man more. Rings can be lost, pawned, traded, upgraded…but Car? He’s here to stay. So just stop it, Morgan Jewelers. It’s not like the women who want the ginormous rings are going to shop at your store anyway.

BURN!

*If I seem a little off my game tonight, please forgive me. I’m staying at my parents’ house while Car is away, plus I’ve got a few hefty things weighing on my mind. I’m sure I’ll be blogging about them soon.

My Little Marilyn Manson

Big G has a cousin who’s 3 years older than him, so we get a good amount of hand-me-downs. This works out nicely since we’re poor. The only drawback to this plan? My nephew, Gigantor, the 6-year-old boy who is almost as tall as his mother. Admittedly, I have been known to call my sister-in-law “Shrimpy McShrimp,” but still.

When I pulled out the summer clothes this week, I discovered a total of two short-sleeved shirts. I was terribly confused until a phone call to my brother clarified the situation–Gigantor grew so quickly that he completely skipped 4T summer clothes. Which means–yay! I get to buy clothes for my son! Also, boo! I have to buy clothes for my son! I dislike this situation, because it confuses my priorities. I need to shop! I need to save money! But my son needs clothes! But I’m so poor! I don’t need this stress.

Since temperatures are in the 70s now, I decided Big G probably needs a few t-shirts, like, yesterday, so I set off to Shopko. It’s much closer to my house than Wal-Mart, but not at all less frightening.

Big G is now of an age where I can start poking around the boys’ clothing rather than the toddler sizes. Fun, right? Yeah, not so much. I am, quite frankly, horrified by the options available to my 4-year-old. First up, we have the “Peter Steele died so I won’t be leaving my room for the next week” look:

Would I have to dye his hair black, too?

Next up, we have the “I’m a damn hippie” look:

At least I wouldn't have to cut his hair!

I’ve always been a fan of the “It’s never too early to contemplate death” look:

And last, but certainly not least, the “Train a child up” look:

Did I happen to mention that my son is FOUR? I realize I’m probably reading too much into all of this, and I need to loosen up, but really?

I do continue to be grateful for my boys. I’d much rather contend with this:

Available in sizes 6 months to 5T!

Than this:

Available in sizes 7 to 16!

Boggle Has a Dirty Mind

I was going to make today’s post all about my even more traumatic second pregnancy, but I haven’t received any sudden blows to the head that made me lose my sense of humor. I cried over yesterday’s post, so today’s serves no purpose but to make me laugh. I’m not entirely sure it makes sense, and I’m relatively certain I’m going to get some frightening search terms and spammers based on the content…but I’m giggling, and that’s all that matters.

Hi. My name is Jenny, and I’m a Boggle addict.

It used to be TextTwist, but I overcame that addiction…and found something far more insidious. See, I think I’m just going to play one or two games, but then I get a “low score.” I’m putting that in quotes, because according to my family, my low score is an amazing score for any normal person. The only way they’ll even play Boggle in person with me is to give me a significant handicap.

I have a Boggle app on my Pixi. I paid $4.99 for this app, and it’s worth every penny.

When I get really stressed, I play Boggle in my head. I know you think I’m making that up, but it’s true. My brain is a scary, scary place.

All of this is completely irrelevant to the topic I’m addressing tonight.

I was playing a round of Boggle on my Pixi, which included the “Qu” cube. Lucky me, I could make the word queen! And queer! Or…not.

Apparently the word “queer” is on the list of banned words.

I understand the need for banned words. After all, you can’t just release a game willy-nilly if it’s going to let somebody type swears! (Although I do believe an exception should be made for “ass” since it’s an animal as well as a swear. Plus, it’s in the Bible!) But some of the “illegal” words are simply ridiculous. Here’s what I’ve run across so far:

Queer
Ass
Whore
Slut
Tits (I only mention this last one because I can use the word “tit,” but once it’s pluralized, it becomes dirty.)
Rape

I can, however, use the word anus*. Thank goodness. I’d about lost hope that I’d ever be able to giggle over a Boggle word again.

Having re-read the above list, I’m now wondering if all sex-trade identifiers are off-limits, or if it only applies to female roles. Is gigolo** a no-no? And if I can use the word anus, would other anatomically correct labels be allowable?

I guess I’ll have to play some more Boggle. For research purposes, of course.

*I don’t care that it’s juvenile. The word anus is funny. If you don’t agree, you’re probably a proctologist. Which is also funny.

**The WordPress dictionary doesn’t have the word gigolo. I thought you’d want to know.

Unadulterated Awesomeness

The BYU Socialist Conspiracy!

If the above article was a person, I’d marry it. That’s how much love is in my heart right now. If you don’t feel like reading the whole thing, you’re lazy. But I’ll provide one of my favorite parts to whet your appetite:

“As proof that his alarm is more than just alarmism, Norton offers this quote from LDS Church President Ezra Taft Benson: “I feel to warn you that one of the chief means of misleading our youth and destroying the family unit is our educational institutions. There is more than one reason why the Church is advising our youth to attend colleges close to their homes where institutes of religion are available. It gives the parents the opportunity to stay close to their children, and if they become alerted and informed, these parents can help expose the deceptions of men like Sigmund Freud, Charles Darwin, John Dewey, John Keynes and others. There are much worse things today that can happen to a child than not getting a full education.”

That should be enough to give local parents pause, Norton said.

“So is enculturating our young into a social and political democracy harmless?” Norton said. “Hardly. When a group of people set on a deliberate course of action to subvert the moral fabric of a society in the goal to eliminate the worship of deity and replace it with the worship of man, we come to the crossroads of our culture, and must make that final decision as to who the God of this land really is.”

BYU, people. He’s talking about BYU. Pretty soon they’ll be replacing “Enter to learn, go forth to serve” with “Subverting the moral fabric of society.”

I did a crash course on John Goodlad, and found this:

“The Moral Dimensions of Teaching is a framework presented by John Goodlad and Ken Sirotnik.

Enculturating the young in a social and political democracy
Foster in the nation’s young the skills, dispositions, and knowledge necessary for effective participation in a social and political democracy

Providing access to knowledge for all children and youth
Ensure that the young have access to those understandings and skills required for satisfying and responsible lives

Practicing a nurturing pedagogy (the art and science of teaching)
Develop educators who nurture the learning and well-being of every student

Ensuring responsible stewardship of schools
Ensure educators’ competence in and commitment to serving as stewards of schools

Sirotnik, K. A. (2001). Renewing schools & teacher education: An odyssey in educational change. Washington, D. C.: AACTE Publication, p. 28. Program folder. Institute for Educational Inquiry, Seattle, WA., April, 2003.”

Wow. I’m so glad someone’s trying to stop this subversive agenda before it really catches on.

Dear Dannon

Dudes. We need to have a serious talk.

I like to watch TV. It’s pure escapism. It helps me get to my happy place. Want to know what takes me away from my happy place? Jamie Lee Curtis discussing her bowels.

I understand that irregularity can be a real problem, and I’m okay with commercials that discuss remedies. But listening to entire conversations? “I ate so much rich food and I was irregular.” No. NOT okay, Dannon.

When you first came out with Activia, I was willing to put up with the ads. I figured you’d do your thing (hee), get the word out there, and then return to commercials that don’t discuss the state of people’s intestines. How wrong I was! You’ve now moved into the realm of personal testimonials, supposedly from real people who look ridiculously comfortable to be on national television. Of course, I guess they’d have to be pretty comfortable to get in front of a camera and discuss their bowel habits.

And while we’re chatting, I just have to ask: Do you really think it’s a super idea to keep up with these ads when you recently settled a lawsuit to the tune of 35 million dollars? A lawsuit that claims your yogurt doesn’t do what you say it does?

I’m just sayin’. Food for thought.

P.S. Bifidus Regularis? Really? I’m supposed to think that’s a super-scientific thing?

See No Evil, Speak No Evil, Hear No Evil

A local newspaper recently published a poll on sex education in public schools. 

Highlights:
“No teaching is better than teaching without morality.”
“I think sex education does not belong in the schools. It isn’t merely a matter of preventing pregnancy and venereal disease; it is a matter of keeping God’s commandments.”

No teaching is better than teaching without morality? Really? It’s better to have a kid completely clueless about contraception instead of explaining how to use a condom?

Sure, in an ideal world, all sex education would happen at home. Parents would be well-informed about all manner of sexual issues and be able to teach their children the basics with a healthy side of personal values. But guess what, folks? We don’t live in an ideal world.

I spent a large part of my formative years in California (obviously what led to my raging liberalism). When I was in the 3rd grade, my teacher’s wife became pregnant. Mr. Liebman thought we should all understand what was going on, so at the ripe old age of 8 I had my first exposure to sex ed. Fortunately, I didn’t particularly understand any of it, and all I recall is some animated sperm and eggs hanging out.

I had sex ed again in middle school. The only thing that stuck with me there was poor Brian Clarke having to read the paragraph on how girls’ breasts develop. Hee. Middle school teachers are so mean.

What I’m getting at here is that I had multiple exposures to sex education, and still managed to remain a virgin until I was married. Sex ed is not the problem. I have several stories I could share to illustrate that point, but sadly, these stories are from the experiences of others and are not mine to tell. I’ll just say that I know first-hand of times when even morally bankrupt sex ed would’ve been better than nothing at all.

And yeah, I have the luxury of talking about this long before my kids are exposed to it. It’s possible I’ll change my mind when they’re older, but I doubt it.

For some reason, every time I hear about the sex ed debate, I’m reminded of the whole evolution vs. creationism cage match. Obviously if you believe in creationism, anyone teaching evolution is a minion of Satan who is actively trying to drag your spawn to hell. Or, I don’t know, maybe they’re just trying to help your child make well-informed decisions. You think evolution is a bunch of hooey (despite documented evidence to the contrary)? Tell your kid. Explain to them that some people believe a certain way, but your personal beliefs and values teach something different.

We all want what’s best for our kids, and to that end, we sometimes try to limit their exposure to the world. But what happens to the child who leaves home and is suddenly faced with an onslaught of opinions and information that he’s never heard before?

Just a few thoughts I’ve been mulling over. So…release the Kraken!

I’m sorry. I’ve been wanting to say that for weeks.

Bits and Pieces

It’s late and I’m tired, so today I’m going to provide you with this gem of a letter. Sadly, I’m pretty sure he’s not being sarcastic. Equally sad (but still hilarious)? The fact that letters like this are a daily thing for the Salt Lake Tribune.

Also, if you need another laugh, check out this awesome story. If giving CPR to roadkill doesn’t convince you to join AA, nothing will.

Save me!

For those wondering why I was pantomiming breastfeeding to a hispanic man–he was picking up medications for a woman who’d just had a baby. The medication order called for Lansinoh, a lanolin cream which breastfeeding mothers are sometimes given at the hospital. I was trying to clarify that a) she hadn’t already gotten it and b) she really was breastfeeding and needed it. This all led to me pantomiming and saying, “para dolor,” (for pain) which is one of the few Spanish phrases I’ve managed to pick up at work.

Never say I’m not dedicated to our customers.