some days are good, sweet, filled with chocolate bon-bons and kisses and more love than you ever thought you’d receive.

Other days?

“Just another hurdle on my way to the grave,” in the words of Joey’s Grandma Pigza.

Hey! you know what I did for fun, though? Made a bunch of posts on here “public” and not “private” so… it’s like an Easter egg hunt, kinda. (Clue: check the “remodelling” category. hahahee!)

Steve sent me this clip along with a note that said, At least I’m not this bad!

He’s wrong, he is. Cuz when our girl was waiting for the bus, for her first day of middle school, with a bunch of kids she has never seen before in her life, Daddy wanted to check on her. So he dropped off her brother, buzzed back home, then, uh… yelled out to her…

“HI HONEY, I, UH, FORGOT SOMETHING! HAVE A GOOD FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!”

She loves him so.

“it’s the first day of school/
and the boys are watching…”

This truly sounds like, just possibly, the worst movie ever.

Has anyone seen it? If you’re interested, you can buy a used copy for one dollah.

And yes, that’s Ron Weasley playing his friend, Alan A. Allen.

Right here. (As you may recall, I’ve been blogging about this for a little while.)

Y’know, if I wasn’t so busy helping the kids with homework, starting dinner, trying to get the rest of our house unpacked so I could get at least one of the vehicles into the damn garage… I would respond to this crap.

Instead, I think I will celebrate NAWACOTID, one day early.

Cheers!

— wm, your favorite little radical

My problem with jobs is as follows: You look for one, you find one, then you gotta go there everyday. Until you work for a school district. Then you get unassigned in April, possibly get a new assignment by September, possibly don’t. Or you find a new job in your new county of residence, instead of commuting twenty miles a day (one way).

Either way, it kinda sucks when you buy a new house one week, then lose your job the next.

We’ll be fine. Don’t be crying for me out there — my job buys the groceries and that’s about it.

Oh, wait…

Ha, just kidding. We’ll be fine. Steve is The Man and you know how that one goes — if you’re just a girl you make half the money, work twice as hard, and people demand blow jobs of various sorts.

(Is it OK to say that here? “Various sorts”???)

Then eventually you get kicked out on your ass. The End. That’s the life of a girl. Man, do I want better for my daughter.

xo

wm

it’s over at PPS Equity.

— wm

Hmm.

Here’s what NOT to do when you’re broke: “payday loans.” (Which are now illegal in Oregon and 14 other states, thank God.) And avoid the damn credit cards, if possible. Get a roommate, move in with friends, reduce expenses, stop eating out, walk and don’t drive, take the bus and don’t pay for parking, balance the checkbook daily, don’t rack up “courtesy fees,” switch to a credit union, on and on. Yes, we know all this. Pay with cash when possible, put your money in little envelopes marked “groceries,” “leisure,” “emergency,” turn down the thermostat, donate money, supplies and volunteer when you can… But what about if you’re already over the edge? Hang on. You just have to hang on. Try to have hope when it feels like there is none.

Here’s what else you can do: Watch this show. It’s a Frontline special called “The Card Game,” all about the credit card fiasco our nation is diving into headfirst. We caught the end of it last night, it’s good. (more…)

hello.

do you remember when we had time for one another?

yeah, me too.

— wm

ps — happy weekend, everybody. It’s Wordstock here, it’s 3 days off from school, it’s ice cream and Italian food and running into my sister, her red-headed fiance and their friends at dinner. that’s alright. (no, we did not run into the Mayor.) (You will be pleased to note that the service at PIZZA FINO in beautiful downtown NORTH PORTLAND KENTON was the WORST IT’S EVER BEEN IN OUR LIVES.) (No, worse than that, even. I kid you not. It’s a tragedy. It is an urban tragedy how bad the service is, YET WE CONTINUE TO DINE THERE. Why? I have no idea.)

(The best rock and roll song ever.)

Yeah, no one here will talk about it, for fear of offending someone’s “dog child,” but at least the New York Times dared to tackle the subject. Dogs are a frickin’ problem in Portland. They. Poop. All. OVER THE PLACE. Your dog does not have the same rights as my child, savvy? Besides, my kids are potty-trained and have been for quite some time. Your dog will never be potty-trained. Maybe you can train your pet bunny to use the commode, but the puppy-wuppy? Lost cause. Your dog is not your “child.” You did not birth that furry little poop machine. I know you love him. I know you “adopted” him. But it’s just different.

Aroooooooooooooooooooooooo! You know when I really went all postal on this? When we shared a duplex with a housemate who 1) refused to keep her large dog off the roof that was above our unit (she climbed out through the window and howled at the moon) (and the dog followed suit) 2) never “picked up” after said dog 3) boycotted mowing the grass.

“It is her birthright to have the yard!” (Landlord said we would “share” the yard. Haha to that.)

“Won’t all of the poo just decompose?”

Oh. Dear God. She was a trendsetter! This was ten years ago, but it was the beginning of the end as far as I’m concerned. Dogville, USA ever since then.

The newest trend? Take your doggy grocery shopping. Fun!

My favorite quote from the NYT story: “‘Usually they’ll hold off and not make a complaint until they’ve seen a dog urinate in the grocery store or jump up and try to swipe a pack of meat,’ said Vance Bybee, the head of the food safety division. ‘Or they’ve seen dogs pooping in the aisle, that sort of thing.’

‘That sort of puts them over the edge,’ Mr. Bybee said.”

Imagine.