Thursday, September 27, 2007

Scent is Linked to Memory

A few weeks ago, I received this e-mail (subject line: Memories) from an old ex:

In church today someone was wearing Ralph Lauren's Safari perfume. I couldn't help but think of you. I miss you sometimes. Just thought you'd like to know.

The truth was, I couldn't care less. I know that sounds harsh and unfeeling, but today is very different from yesterday and the memory of him fails to stir more than a few good times and a relief that I've moved on to better things.

It did make me think, though, and I caught on to an odd personality trait. Every. Single. Time. that I've changed relationships, I've changed perfumes. I'm sure it wasn't a conscious decision, or I wouldn't have been so taken aback by the realization. I just think that, like *Allen*, I began to associate the scent with the relationship and moved on when they did.

It's still an odd realization, though and I'm not eager to have any more relationship-related-self-discoveries anytime soon.

Monday, September 24, 2007

Just a Few Football Notes

First of all, let me start by saying: FIRE HOUSTON NUTT!
Ahhhhh, I feel better.

Then I shall say: John Madden actually said something funny when he said (paraphrased, of course) - "Even Rex Grossman has to be getting to the point where he's boo-ing himself." Oh, oh dear, that brought me near tears. So true. So true. Rex, buddy, you've had a . . uh . . hmmm . . well, you've had a run. Time to call it quits for the good of your team. If this goes on much longer, I wouldn't put it past Urlacher to kill you, bury you and recruit Michael Vick from prison. Anyone is better than you.

And, now, I shall ask: What are those green dots in the middle of all the NFL quarterbacks helmets? Just the quarterbacks. Just in the NFL. But they all have them. I'm intriqued. Befuzzled. Baffled.

Yes, I realize that everyone else on the planet probably knows the answer to the last question and Yes, I have my own guesses about what it indicates, but I prefer to be ACCURATELY informed by a knowledgeable second party.

Monday, September 17, 2007

A Woman Has Needs

And mine is blood pumping, chest-shaking, mind-numbingly loud music at least once a day. Seeing as I played therapist to a friend tonight while walking the track, my typical iPod-blow-out-your-eardrums workout was forgone.

This gave me a prime opportunity to try out my new subwoofer. Have I mentioned how much I love my mother for everything she does for me . . but the dirt cheap, best in the world speakers help put her a notch or 9 above all other mothers.

Thus far, I've broken a lamp, a vase, two bottles of wine and have shaken the majority of cans from my kitchen cabinets. I'm sure my neighbors lu-lu-luv me.

Sunday, September 16, 2007


My mother had few what I would call prize possessions. Things never meant much to her, just people. But sometimes, things can remind you of people and you end up cherishing the things as much as the memories they evoke.

My mother had every single Johnny Mathis record every released. She'd received them all at once as a Christmas present from a boyfriend who knew how much she loved his voice. Those albums were her release from bad days, stressful nights and, sometimes, annoying children. I knew how much they meant to her, but I was too young - or too stupid - to care.

When mom left town, I'd occassionally use her records as frisbees. I don't know why. Who can explain the actions of young children? It just seemed like the thing to do. I never reached for the Jethro Tull records or the Wham! albums, no-no, I always went straight for the Johnny Mathis ones.

It was all well and good until one night, my mother had had a horrendous day. Work was Hell, a friend of hers had died and my father was . . less than sympathetic. She went to her old stand-by: Johnny.

The first record she put on just happened to be an original recording of a live performance. VERY rare, to say the least. I still don't know how Larry found that one. But he did, and it was my mom's favorite. I didn't pay much attention until the album started skipping.

Mom leapt from the recliner and raced to the record player with a speed that would have impressed Jackie Joyner-Kersey. She gently pulled the needle from the grooves and inspected the oft abused album. The racket I heard coming from my mother was a million times worse than the skipping and screeching of the record player just moments before. I thought the roof was going to come down on top of us.

She threw herself to the floor and wailed for what seemed like hours, though I know it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. My heart was torn from my chest. I was despondent over what I had done. The honest parts of me were dying to confess, but the more practical side realized that I couldn't. In her state of mind, homicide was a very real possibility. So, instead, I ran to my room, hid in my closet and cried my little eyes out.

Many years later, during a weekend home from college, we were cleaning out closets and stumbled across her Johnny Mathis collection. The six-year old still inside me couldn't take the guilt of what I'd done one second longer. I stutteringly confessed to using her records as frisbees all those years ago.

Expecting a tongue lashing, and possibly a slap across the face, I closed my eyes tight and waited for her anger. But it never came. Instead, I heard a small giggle that soon turned into a deep belly laugh. "Oh, baby, that's too funny. You know, I used to use my mom's 45s as frisbees whenever she wasn't at home. What is it about a record that just makes you want to launch it across a room?"

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Any Idiot . . .

Political Post #2: License to Bear Children

You have to have a license to drive a vehicle, but any idiot with working parts can have a child. This has to be stopped. I think you should have to have a license to bear children.

How do you obtain this license?

1 - You take a minimum of three parenting classes and pass them.

2 - You pass an IQ test. I'm not saying you have to be a genius, or even of "normal level" intelligence to have children. I'm saying you have to show that you have enough intelligence to be able to take care of another human being and make the daily decisions that a parent has to make for their child.

3 - You show check stubs indicating you have a job. It's a sad but true fact that the world operates on money. If you don't have enough to clothe and feed a child, you just can't have one. It's that simple.

4 - You show that you have a clean and suitable household. Babies will put anything in their mouths. So if you're the kind of person that throws things on the floor or has indoor pets who use your carpet as a toilet, etc. a child crawling around doesn't seem like the best idea - now does it?

There are more, but these are the most important of the requirements. I, also, have a perfect demonstration of why these should be implemented:

Last week one of the classroom teachers at my new center got a new truck. It was early morning and she only had one kid in the class at the time, so we snatched him up and walked outside with him so she could show me the vehicle. We'll call this particular 4 year old Alan.

Alan has a baby sister - approximately 9 months old. Note: All of these children have some form of problem that allows them to be at the center. All the children receive at least one therapy and have a minimum of THREE diagnoses. Most have far more than the three required. We'll call the sister Molly.

Alan, his teacher and I are walking back into the building when another therapist approached us carrying Molly. Alan points to her and says: "Hey! There's shit rocket!"

His teacher stops dead in her tracks, as do I. "Alan, what did you say?" We're certain we must have misheard him. "There's shit rocket." His teacher still has a look of disbelief on her face so he repeats, "That's shit rocket." Shaken from her stupor by his third repetition of the term she says, "Alan! Where did you hear that???" and he calmly answers, "That's what my mom calls her."

Today, he came in with his jeans on backwards and no shoes. It's less than comforting to think that this woman has three children.

Licenses, people. We need licenses.

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Why Not?

Well, here we go again, I'm going to attempt another 30 days straight of blogging. We'll see what crap manifests itself here.

For the first week, you'll get a political platform. One idea per day. Enjoy and understand that most of this is very tongue in cheek.

First up: The Legalization of All Drugs

Anyone who has ever wanted drugs has been able to obtain them. And, let's face it, if these idiots want to kill themselves, we'll let them. It will be a form of population control while also serving as a survival-of-the-fittest, weeding-out-the-rubbish kinda thing. PLUS, a few other benefits - as explained below.

So, here's what we do: Manufacture all the drugs and package them with umpteen warning labels informing them of all possible and probable side effects, thus preventing any form of litigation . .. if only those poor bastards at the tobacco companies had done this. We then distribute them to the stores and tax the buddha out of them. I'm thinking 50% sounds like a good number, but if we wanna really stick it to 'em, we can always do 75%. This should allow us to eliminate all property taxes immediately and, over time, income taxes.

Yes, we will probably lose some to shop-lifting (though, this can be minimized by locking them up as we do the cigarettes and, heavens save us, the Tylenol Sinus) and to general theft, but the high tax rate should cover these losses as well.

See, it's all planned out. I don't see why this can't work! Please, if you have some ideas of why it wouldn't or couldn't, let me know and we can discuss them. I look forward to trouble-shooting this master plan.