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another shrill post from your bitch, Wacky Mommy

January 5th, 2009

“Don’t call me shrill, ho.”

The last time I was called shrill, hmm, let’s see. Hmm, hmmm, hummers! That was it! My boss wanted me to blow him and I wouldn’t.

Then one of the other managers (female, unbelievably enough. Oh, wait. Naw, I can believe it) wanted me to explain myself. Apparently he thought blow jobs were part of my job description, complained to her, she was dispatched to “deal” with “the situation.”

“It’s just, you don’t usually sound so… shrill,” she told me.

So forgive me, Anna Griffin, that I am a little “p.o’ed” at you for calling our recently-elected City Commissioner “shrill.”

Steve just wrote a good post about said column. Then told me, “Doesn’t matter, all their links go dead after two weeks, anyway.” So I won’t bother giving them a link. But I’ll give him one. A link! Settle down, now.

Happy early anniversary, Hockey God. Welcome to my brain and how it works.

August 22nd, 2008

I have this problem. For me, it’s a small problem. For my husband, dear, sweet, understanding Hockey God, it’s a big, big, big, huge, frickin’ out-of-control problem. It’s all over the table, floor, stacked up in a rack next to the china cabinet.

It takes up a ton of room in the recycling bin and is heavy.

It makes his brain hurt when we talk about it, when I won’t pay attention to him at the table, because I’m absorbed in the obituaries, the recipes, the People column.

Newspapers. I have a pretty serious newspaper addiction going here.

A-hem. A few of his frequent comments go like this:

“Why don’t you read it online?”
“You know you can read it online.”
“Can I recycle these? All of these? No? Why not?
“Really. Why the hell not?”
“Can we cancel our subscription? I mean, permanently?”

Yargh, the pressure, I cannot take it.

I like a newspaper. I like the heft of it. The thud when they throw it on the front porch. The slick ads. The metro section. The metro brieflys, about horrible, random things happening to random people (who are usually not horrible. But sometimes I suppose they are. Like when a drug dealer’s house burns down because his gro-lights got too hot. I’m supposed to feel bad about that? If he had little kids, I’d feel bad for them. But usually child welfare has already nabbed them. Or when two guys are drunk in a bar and beat each other up, then crash their trucks into each other in the parking lot and get arrested, and their girlfriends won’t bail them out. Hmm…).

I digress.

How will I know about these horrible, random things if I quit my subscription?

Then one day it occurred to me: Why do I want to know about horrible random things? It’s enough to give you a headache. Why give yourself a headache on purpose? That happens enough on accident, no?

Then one other day it occurred to me: This is the only reason I keep my subscription to the Oregonian. That’s right.

Don’t judge me, you. I never claimed to be all fancy-schmancy over here.

For Better or Worse is a good reason to stay married (ten years for us next month!) (and happy 25th to my younger-than-ever girlfriend L and her youthful groom, by the way). But subscribing to the paper just so you can read For Better or Worse? Not reason enough to pay out the money.

Subscription now canceled.

My daughter will miss the funnies but y’know? She can read all of them online.

I’ll get her a free subscription.

smells like teen spirit

May 6th, 2008

You know how many times that video has been viewed? 11 million, eight hundred twenty-nine thousand, one hundred and 12 times, that’s how many. So far. Ah, what’s not to love about anarchist cheerleaders? So. So, so, so. Because I’m in an Oregonian-bashing kinda mood today… Did you realize the writers and editors there didn’t write shit about Nirvana until Kurt died? (more…)

Thursday Thirteen #102: 13 Story Ideas for The Oregonian/You Missed the Boat

July 18th, 2007

Thursday 13ers and Usual Suspects, we have company today. The Oregonian is here. Sure, they won’t leave comments or anything, but they’re here.

Hi, guys. (more…)

The Oregonian Needs Help from Wacky Mommy

July 18th, 2007

Jack Bog has an interesting discussion going on about some shake-ups at the Oregonian, our daily newspaper here in town. Check it out.

What are the newspapers like in your cities? Boring as ours? More boring? Do you read them, or just hand them to your kid so she can read the funnies? That’s what happens at our house. I do love the TV listings. And Chelsea Cain. She talks about her dead mother even more often than I talk about my dead father.

It’s kismet, really.

Speaking of death — (more…)

Jefferson High School, Because I Said So

May 1st, 2007

(This originally ran last August, in response to an editorial wherein the Oregonian blamed Jeff parents for the mess at Jeff. I’m re-running it in honor of Superintendent Vicki Phillips LEAVING THE BUILDING and Leon Dudley, who apparently has left the building, as well. Ta-ta, WM)

JEFFERSON HIGH SCHOOL

Dear Parents, Members of the Board, Community Freaks & Assorted Avon Ladies:

Everything that’s gone wrong at Jefferson High School is my fault. Goddammit, I might as well tell you the whole truth. (more…)

Churches in North Portland: A Do-It-Yourself Approach

April 15th, 2007

My husband — you may know him as Hockey God — did a nice photo essay on his blog. You should go check it out. And yes, I did say that about the Catholic church. Because I’m sick of all my snobby friends saying, “Well, at Cathedral/Holy Cross/Madeleine School/Holy Redeemer… etc. We don’t have those kind of problems.” (Lice, sex abuse, child abuse, meth monkeys, teachers who abuse kids…) Liars! You do so. You just cover it up better. Only, not always. To wit: this.

And from Whoorl and Snackie’s World (”Where Everybody is Bitchy and Nobody is Getting Licked!”), today’s meme:

1. Hey baby, what’s your sign? More importantly, do you believe in astrology? Why or why not?
Cancer, on the cusp of Gemini, with Sagittarius rising. Really, I think this explains it all. Yeah, and I was born in Year of the Dragon. Wacky Girl is Virgo and Perfect, Wacky Boy is Aries and Insane, Hockey God is double Sag with Scorpio Rising or something and Trouble. Of course I believe in astrology.

2. If you were offered a million dollars to never wear lip gloss again, would you take it?
Yes, because “chapstick” is not “lip gloss.” Ditto “lipstick” is not “lip gloss.”

3. Which blogger would you like to trade lives with for just one day and why?
Planet Nomad, because after one day in Africa, watching goats get slaughtered, lice would not seem like such a big deal. Or Nothing But Bonfires, because geez, who wouldn’t want to be Holly?

4. Do you want to have more children or have you not thought that far ahead yet?
Ha, ha, ha! You’re funny! Yeah, they’re cute until they bring home lice. Then they’re not that damn cute anymore. No, we’re done. No more kids, no more dogs, no more lice.

5. And finally, the most important question of the set….mayonnaise or Miracle Whip?
Mayo. But only on our hair.

PS — Whoorl was much more imaginative about this than I was. I’m just in a hurry. Laundry and all. Week Two of the Louse: More Cetaphil on hair; bed pillows, quilts, blankets on hot cycle in dryer for half an hour; sheets, towels and coats through laundry; entire house vacuumed again; and me, oh my! I even found time to plant cosmos, pansies and hollyhocks with the kids. (My husband is doing the vacuuming. With our new fancy purple Dyson vacuum cleaner. The man is a saint.)

Too Much Kissing Can Lead to Freak Dancing

March 12th, 2007

“Little Skunk was glad to do that.
But then he saw another little skunk.
She was very pretty.
He gave the kiss to her.
And she gave it back.
And he gave it back.
And then Hen came along.
‘Too much kissing,’ she said.”

from “A Kiss For Little Bear”
– written by Else Holmelund Minarik & illustrated by Maurice Sendak

Everyone in my hometown of Portland, Ore., is all a-twitter because of something the kids are calling “Freak Dancing,” aka “Grinding” or “Freaking.” It supposedly leads to blindness.

(more…)

Gay Marriage Rocks!

December 30th, 2006

Because I just wanted to let my opinion be known… so there it is. I am expressing myself.

“I’m expressin’ with my full capabilities/
And now I’m livin’ in correctional facilities/
Cuz some don’t agree with how I do this/
I get straight/
meditate like a Buddhist/”

– NWA

Gay marriage should be legal. Wacky Mommy says yes, yeah, go for it, I support it and fully. Love, love, love.

“All you need is love/
Love is all you need/”

– The Beatles

However. The voters of Oregon, progressive and green and free-loving though we may be, passed Measure 36 a couple of years ago, stating that “only a marriage between one man and one woman shall be valid or legally recognized as a marriage.” (Here are some of the arguments against this measure.) (And “we” being “them” because you know I didn’t vote the damn thing in.)

My point: I still see tons of bumperstickers here that say ONE MAN ONE WOMAN YES ON 36 all over town and damn if I wouldn’t love to get my hands on about five or seven of them. Cuz I’d cut them up to say:

ONE WOMAN
ONE WOMAN

ONE MAN
ONE MAN

ONE WOMAN
ONE MAN

And then right next to all that I’d put a Bob Marley sticker that said:

ONE LOVE
ONE HEART
LET’S GET TOGETHER AND FEEL ALRIGHT

Happy New Year to all of you. Peace in 2007.

Loves and kisses, hogs and quiches,

WM

PS — If anyone can get some of these bumperstickers for me I would sure appreciate it.

PSS — No, I haven’t started baking or cleaning yet for the party on Monday, thanks for asking.

Thursday Thirteen Ed. #62

October 12th, 2006

Thirteen Things Bosses Have Said To Me:

1. I could really use a blowjob.

2. If I was a little bit younger, I’d chase you around the block.

3. While you’re on vacation, I want you to think about all the mistakes you’ve been making at work and have a different attitude when you get back.

4. The other editors and I have talked, and we think you need to see a therapist.

5. I know I told the agency I needed you to answer the phone, but I really need you to do my books.

6. You’re working the fifteen-hour sale tonight by yourself. Hope your first day is going well!

7. You’re fired because I’m tired of hearing Susie bitch about you. (This was from blowjob guy. Do you think I blew him to keep the job? Bwaaaaaaa ha ha ha ha…)

8. If I told you that was a nice blouse, would you consider that sexual harrassment?

9. I wish I was you.

10. Can you call all my friends to get them to RSVP for my party?

11. I think after you’ve been doing data entry for awhile you’ll get a real fire in your belly for it.

12. We hired too many people so now I have to fire half of you. Sorry. Happy Thanksgiving.

13. Babe, if you married me, on our honeymoon I’d cover your whole body with bean dip and guacamole and eat it up with chips.

Happy Thursday Thirteen, everyone!

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