Native Love,Undead Chickens, and My Inner Redneck

It has been my lucky week! Saturday I was given the Native Love Award by the lovely and articulate Faiqa. I've been eyeing this award ever since I started reading Faiqa's Native Born. If you're like me, you probably already have gobs o' blogs to read already, but if you add Native Born to your reader you won't be disappointed.

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I've also been envious of this special Zombie Chicken Award. Who wouldn't be? If we can't have our very own chicken that is a zombie, at least the luckiest of us can have the Zombie Chicken Award!
Thanks to some of my newest pals, Michele at Facts Are Strictly Optional and Jersey Girl. Michel lives in Sudan. Yes. Sudan. And Jersey Girl lives in....you guess.....yep, Jersey! Jersey Girl delurked out of nowhere and BAM! Gave me the Zombie Chicken. Thanks girls!
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And because I can't pass up the opportunity to hand out Zombie Chickens to anyone I darn well please, I'm bestowing this award upon the following blogs. And I'm not going to say anything nice about them except that they rite rill dam good and eye likes tuh read ther stuff they got tuh say. Ooops. Don't mind me. That's just my redneck heritage popping out. Go to Wal-mart, Hometown Booffay, and the 99 Cent's Store all in the sayme week and that'll happin to yuh. Seccin thot, I'm fillin' too dern layzee to do all dem links n stuff. If ewe'd be wantn' wunuh theez here chickkin awards jist copyn payste it fer yerself and tell evrywun ewe gottit win ewe wuz visittin a tapin' uh The Jaysin Show down in Loss Anjileez.
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Q & A With Your Token Gay, Vol. XVI

Your question is important to us. Please stay on the line. Questions will be answered in the order in which they were received.

Anonymous asks:

I never thought about what you would do with your last name(s), but now that it has come up, how did you and Giancarlo decide whose name came first in Diego's last name? Did you go by what sounds better? Or ro-sham-bo over it? arm wrestle? I know these things are a BIG DEAL in movie credits and law firms, so it made me wonder.

It's simple. I have four brothers to carry on my last name, along with 3,423 male cousins with the same last name. Giancarlo's family line will end with him without another male to carry on the surname. Hyphenating the two surnames wasn't a big deal to me, except that I want my last name to be in Diego's legal surname since we don't have a "traditional" family. When Diego becomes an adult, if he would like to drop my last name, it won't hurt my feelings. Also, Amelia has my last name, of course, and I wanted them to have that in common.

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Lacking Productivity asks:

Do you ever occasionally sneak GC's clothes?

As stated in previous volumes of Q & A, Giancarlo and I share many of our clothes. His legs, arms, and feet are a bit longer than mine, so we don't share long sleeve dress shirts, pants, or shoes. BUT, yes, Kira, I do sometimes sneak his clothes. When he notices, he good-naturedly says, "Hey, who said you could wear my _________?"

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The Vinyl Villager asks:

So why did you stop sharing the undies?

I don't know why this happened. We never really had a discussion about it, all of the sudden Giancarlo put all of our underwear in my drawer and bought himself a bunch of new underwear, declaring that he now wanted to have his own underwear. I guess he got tired of my junk in his drawers.

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Pumpkin Delight asks:

OK, so Mormons are allowed to swim, why not Mormon missionaries?

In order for someone to go swimming, it would require the removal of the garments. Missionaries must do everything in their power to keep themselves out of temptation's way; keeping their garments on at all times helps them in that respect. Additionally, I've always heard something else about how the devil has stronger powers within water, but that sounds like an old Mormon wive's tale to me. Do any of my Mormon readers know anything else on this topic?

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Bonny asks:

(Referring to a previous question about the most wonderful moment of my life and how I answered, "My first drink, at age 29. )

So your first drink was *that* wonderful? I'm almost 25 and haven't had my first drink. I want to, but I'm nervous due to the many horror stories of my youth. I can hear Sunday School lessons in my head, whenever I start to read the drink menu. But if it was that good, maybe I should just go for it.

Actually, Bonny, my first drink wasn't that wonderful. I was mostly joking. My first drink was (surprise, surprise) wine coolers. I nervously pushed them through the store in my shopping cart, nervous that someone I knew would see me with them. I literally was in a cold sweat. I had already decided that I was done being a Mormon and that I wanted to try alcohol, but I wasn't quite ready to stand up to shocked, judging eyes. Now I couldn't care less. I took them home and shared them with my best friend, and told him I was gay. That was the last time we ever really did anything together, just the two of us. I scared him away, didn't I?

I do enjoy my wine each night, and it is fun to drink with friends. But I have learned the hard way that too much is not a good thing.

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Rebeckah asks:

What is your favorite kind of ice cream?

Dreyer's Double Fudge Brownie. So creamy, so chocolaty, so delightful. Try it. You'll be glad you did.
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Domestic Spaz asks:

If you knew of a teenager who was perhaps a bit sexually confused but was being brought up by Christian parents who thought of homosexuality as disgusting, what, if anything, would you say to this teenager? Assume this particular teenager is very dear to your heart.

I would risk making the parents angry and go ahead and have a heartfelt talk with the teenager about it. It could very well be his only hope for a feeling of acceptance by someone very important to him. It could open a lot of doors into overcoming feelings of self-loathing. It could be that this individual is crying out inside for someone to reach out, but being ashamed and afraid, nowhere to turn. It could save his life.

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Helena asks:

I do believe in the Tarot. Do you?

I am quite a skeptic about anything "supernatural." I don't completely deny that there could be some kind of power behind it, but it all seems far-fetched to me. Palm reading, psychics, ghosts, reading tea leafs, and Tarot cards to name a few. Perhaps I am just ignorant on the subject. Perhaps I need to be enlightened. Helena? Tammy?

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Your question is important to us. Please stay on the line. Questions will be answered in the order in which they were received.
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A Decision Long Time Coming

Only my closest, most observant, and most perceptive of friends may have seen this coming. Most people in my life assume that my relationship is peachy keen; I don't really talk much about its turbulent nature. Over the last year or so, things have gotten bad. Nauseatingly bad. So bad that I can't even stand to look at him or touch him. Even the way he smells has gotten to be something I can no longer tolerate. For years I was willing to overlook the bad for the sake of the good, but no more. I was never planning for this to happen, nobody ever plans for this kind of thing to happen. Thinking back, we got together so slowly that I don't even know exactly when it happened. Sure, we had our moments, those times that I thought it would work. But then things slowly got worse and worse. I think I will be able to move on without too much of a problem. Without his knowledge, I've kept other options close at hand. The thought of breaking up has been skulking around in the back of mind; each day I've been coming closer and closer to this decision without fully realizing it. But then tonight during dinner, the clouds cleared in a single moment. It was as clear as day, and I couldn't believe it had taken me this long to come to my senses. I confided in my father-in-law regarding the precarious state of my relationship. And I am even blogging about it now, but I still haven't told him.

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My relationship with fish is now officially over.

I, Jason Show, hereby no longer eat fish. I am a non-fish eater. I've had enough of the taste, the smell, the bones, the scales, the slime, the way it looks, all of it! I can't stand it anymore.

Yuck! Yuck, yuck, yuck!

I want a fish divorce!

Agnostic Blessings, Episode Ten

Blessing #976

I think that I shall never see

A marker lovely as a Sharpie.

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If I Were In Charge of the World

If I were in charge of the world

I'd cancel traffic,

Getting up in the dark,

Arguments,

and also Shirley Phelps-Roper.

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If I were in charge of the world

There'd be food in every tummy,

Minds free of anxiety,

and a giant pause button you could push whenever you wish.

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If I were in charge of the world

You wouldn't have earthquakes.

You wouldn't have violence.

You wouldn't have to shave.

Or "Your mom has cancer."

There wouldn't even be cancer.

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If I were in charge of the world

Your dad would never have thought he was the Messiah,

All fruitcake would be fries with catsup,

And a person who loses the human perspective,

Pushing their own ideals down the throats of others,

Would not be allowed to be In Charge of the World.

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Adapted by Jason

from Judith Viorst

Living on Wisteria Lane: Kaputs After 40 Years

Did you know that I live on Wisteria Lane? If you think I'm being facetious or if you think I'm lying, here is photographic evidence:
After forty one years of marriage, Madge Lindstrom left Lou Lindstrom and moved into a house across the lake. From the outside, they appeared to be doing fine. Every morning at 7:00, like clockwork, they would go out for their morning jog/walk together. Every October they threw an Oktoberfest block party to beat the band with brats and cold beer on tap for everyone.

And then, suddenly, or perhaps not, Madge packed her car with a few personal belongings and left.

Nobody really noticed she was gone, not for a while. Not until the next Oktoberfest, which she dutifully attended and even helped host, when she told us nonchalantly that she had moved out and lived across the lake.

What makes a couple stay together for forty one years and then call it quits? Wouldn't you think that by the 25th or 26th year they would have figured out that enough was enough? Does this kind of thing just sneak up on you, or had they been planning this for twenty five or thirty years?

Did one of them have an affair? Did Madge just wake up one morning and look at his fuzzy hair with the thought dawning on her that she simply wasn't happy? Did she endure and endure and endure and then at last say, "That's it! I'm done!" Perhaps Lou finally had had enough of her nagging about the toothpaste tube or the toilet seat and told her to get out? Or maybe something occurred that gave them the courage to finally end it, even after forty one years.

Was it a quiet, prolonged desperation? Or was this desperation sudden and sinister?

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From the Set of The Jason Show

This Week in Pictures

Stream of Consciousness Blogging: A Britney Fan Cookie

First things first, for I know you are all simply DYING to hear all about the Britney Spears concert last night. Especially Chi Town Girl, blognut, Pumpkin Delight, and my own dear sister, Katrine.

As you may recall, The Pussycat Dolls opened for her, but due to some serious traffic delays we missed all but the last 30 seconds of their performance. We sat in the nosebleed section, in the second to the last row of the Staples Center. However, we still had a good view of the stage although all of the people were the size of ants. The show was exciting and full of great dancing and visual effects. Britney obviously lip synced some of her songs, but for others the live band and the back up singers came out and she was clearly singing herself, but it wasn't bad. The one thing that left us dissatisfied was that they didn't show the performance on the huge monitors. Overall, we had a fantastic time and I'm glad we went!

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This morning there were 74 emails waiting in my in box. I couldn't believe the photo of my Britney tickets had stirred up such a fuss! Turns out, most of them came from somebody named "ed" who diligently went through many of my painstakingly, lovingly written posts and left thoughtful, witty, and lengthy comments. All in Chinese. Or likely another Asian language, although I am not able to distinguish. Hmmm. Then I tried to cut and paste a sample of this text for you but could not because every one of the words is a link to a pictures of very pretty Asian girls, along with another link to I-don't-know-what but I'm sure it isn't something I would be that interested in. I thought my word verification was supposed to protect me from these automated Chinese/Taiwanese/Thai robots! I feel so violated! Now I must go through each and every post and delete those comments, or forever remain the portal for Asian porn. Why, God, are you punishing me? Why me and my humble little corner of the www?

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The gap between my top right front tooth and the tooth next to it is set on growing from barely noticeable to a dark, gaping hole. I pop my retainer back in and it pushes my teeth back together, but a few minutes after taking it back out I notice the gap has gone back to its preferred size. It isn't really a big deal except that I spent the first twenty eight years of my life with teeth like these, so now that they are fixed I kind of want them to be perfect forever.

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Exiting the Staples Center last night was a bit humorous. My girlz and I were moving along in an enormous mass of Britney fans who incidentally mostly looked the same. We moved down a series of escalators and as we approached the bottom we realized that the crowd had stopped moving. Aaaaaaaaaaaaa!

We slowly smashed directly into the people in front of us. The people to our rear smashed into us. And that's how we became the cream in the middle of a Britney fan cookie. I've never had so many nearly bare boobs mooshing into me from all sides!

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CIRCUS

The Nerd Who Made It

I was born a nerd. I'm pretty sure God made me that way; I didn't become one because of my close relationship with my mother or my lack of bonding with my father. My parents did, however, do many things to contribute to my nerdly ways.

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The most obvious was the fact that my mother made all of my clothes. Jeans, shirts, shorts, jackets, suits, you name it. Even underwear. Yes, my mother made my underwear. But they didn't look like normal store-bought underwear. They looked funny, and they didn't fit well. There wasn't enough fabric in the crotch. So things hung out. And my homemade jeans didn't fit well either. So combine those two things with raging junior high erections, and you've got a recipe for nerdly disaster. Thank God I had a math book.

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I digress. In elementary school I hated recess, and I begged my teachers let me stay in and help them correct papers or pass out materials. Usually they wouldn't let me, saying that I needed to go run and play. I didn't want to run and play. I didn't want to show the other kids how I didn't know how to play a single sport or how terrified I was of the ball.

I always got the best grades in my class. That was how I found that one shred of self esteem. However, after a couple of years, kids began resenting me.

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Not only was I a nerd, I was an effeminate nerd who had no understanding what it was to be effeminate, and no understanding of why kids made fun of me. My natural tendency was to skip merrily along my way with my funny looking clothes and my 110% spelling test clutched in my hand, preferring to play with the girls. Along about third grade the kids began calling me a fag or a dick or a dweeb every single day.

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Aside from my unfortunate wardrobe issues in junior high, my nerdliness was compounded with a severe and fiery explosion of acne all over my face and neck. Plus I realized that I loved drama and was in many junior high theater productions. On top of that, some kids would think that they could bully me into letting them copy my homework or classwork or even tests. On that range, I stood my ground, refusing to let them copy because they were mean to me and besides that it wasn't honest. Then they hated me even more. Good thing they didn't know I was in love with my best friend.

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Finally high school arrived. For being such a smart kid I was pretty slow on the uptake as far as figuring out why kids hated me so much. So...I told my mom I was going to begin buying my own clothes thankyouverymuch, I learned about Acutane, I kept my grades a secret, and what else was there? Oh yeah. I turned off my personality. All except for the part about being kind to others, because in the Ann Lander's handbook, "How to Be Popular: You're Never Too Young or Old," she said that the key to being popular was to be kind and genuine to people and show them you were truly interested in them.

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All of those things combined turned my life around. The last three years of high school were much better for me.

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And in college I had to make a magazine clipping collage about myself. I came across a caption that said it all, and I proudly pasted it right at that top:

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"THE NERD WHO MADE IT"

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Living on Wisteria Lane: YOW!

Did you know that I live on Wisteria Lane? If you think I'm being facetious or if you think I'm lying, here is photographic evidence:
Let's take a look down to the right of The Jason Show family's home. Dan Brand lives right next door to Edi Britt, and across the street from Mrs. McClusky. Dan Brand loves life and he loves to express it. He can be heard at all hours of the day and night driving down Wisteria Lane in his $95,000 black Mercedes convertible hollering out a high-pitched and enthusiastic "YOW!"

Dan Brand loves motorcycles. He recently had a boisterous motorcycle party that lasted clear until 4:00 in the morning, culminating in much revving and shouting and laughing and vulgar language and hoopin' and a hollerin', waking all of the desperate families up and down Wisteria Lane trying get their desperate sleep so they can go off to their desperate jobs feeling a bit less desperate. Boy, was Mrs. McClusky fit to be tied.

About a month ago, Dan Brand's fourth wife just moved out. About a month ago, Dan Brand's new girlfriend and her son moved in. (Far be it for me to judge. I still lived in the same house when my wife's boyfriend moved in.) I'm just telling the story.

Dan Brand is a friendly guy, always sure to say hello and ask us how we're doing. His fourth wife was very nice, too. His new girlfriend just looks like a deer in headlights.

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The biggest irony of all about Dan Brand? He works on the set of that popular TV show that portrays homemakers who constantly find themselves in the midst of desperation.  You may have heard of it.
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Coprophobia, and Other Phobias

Our dog, Pumpkin, has an intense fear of her own poop. She can scarcely stand still while she defecates and as soon as she is done, she runs frantically away from it and all the way around the back yard with her ears back and a panicked look in her eyes. Once a piece of poop stuck to her rear end and that sent her into a frenzy that could only be remedied when I grabbed her and pulled it off with a piece of toilet paper. She shook for the next thirty minutes, terrified.

There is a name for this type of abnormal fear of excrement:

Coprophobia

There is a plethora of other phobias that you may have heard of, or perhaps not. This information is available at dailycognition.com, among other places. The list of phobias is extensive, so I took the liberty of editing it and leaving only the most interesting ones. And some of them just sound like someone made them up.

Bald people — Peladophobia

The irrational fear of becoming bald or fear of being around bald people.

Good thing I don't have this phobia! That spot on the back of my head would have me terrified.

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Chickens — Alektorophobia

At some point in the past, there was likely an event linking chickens and emotional trauma.

Chickens and emotional trauma? One would think I would have alektrorophobia by now, after watching my father and mother butcher so many chickens. And once? One of our mean old roosters, whom we called Shakespeare, attacked my sister. So I went out there with a hoe and whacked him on the back. And he died. Yes, I killed a cock.

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Chins — Geniophobia

An unusual and abnormal fear of chins.

What the? Fear of chins? How could one possibly develop a phobia of chins? That's just silly.

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Chopsticks — Consecotaleophobia

The abnormal fear of chopsticks. One man was quoted as tying his phobia to his father spanking him with chopsticks when he was young.

I just think they're frustrating. Someone get me a fork!

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Decisions: making decisions — Decidophobia

An abnormal and persistent fear of making decisions and never knowing what the person wants, at least not until it’s too late.

I get like this when looking at restaurant menus sometimes. Especially Cheesecake Factory. Holy cow. That menu is literally a book that takes hours to read, let alone decide what you're going to order.

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Dining or dinner conversations — Deipnophobia

A fear of dining in the social sense, and by association, of dinner conversation. Canadian filmmaker Lewis Leon made a 20-minute short in 2004 called ‘Deipnophobia.’

I think I had this when I was a teenager. I was afraid of eating around most people, so much that I wouldn't be able to swallow anything, and sometimes I would have to run to the bathroom and vomit.

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Rectal - Rectophobia

The fear of rectums, the anus.

I do not fear the anus.

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Eating or swallowing or of being eaten — Phagophobia

Fear of eating, devouring — harm may occur if any food or substance is digested.

But it doesn't say anything about the fear of being eaten. Fear of being eaten? By whom? Or what?

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Fecal matter, feces — Coprophobia or Scatophobia

An abnormal and persistent fear of feces (bowel waste). Sufferers go out of their way to avoid coming into contact with feces or sometimes even seeing feces.

Pumpkin.

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Garlic — Alliumphobia

Apparently you don’t have to be a vampire to have an abnormal fear of garlic.

It's a good thing I don't have this phobia. I LOVE garlic!

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Infinity — Apeirophobia

The abnormal haunting by thoughts of infinity.

I have definitely had moments where my mind has been blown away by thoughts of infinity. Have you? Fortunately, my thoughts have not been abnormally haunted by them!

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Looking up — Anablephobia or Anablepophobia

The fear of looking up.

For fear that a crow will drop a creamy load of excrement in your eye? I can't understand why else someone would be afraid of looking up.

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Mother-in-law — Pentheraphobia

An irrational, disabling fear of the mother-in-law.

No commentary necessary here. How many of you suffer from this phobia?

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Peanut butter sticking to the roof of the mouth — Arachibutyrophobia

A persistent, abnormal, and unwarranted fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of the mouth. What’s most peculiar is the fact that this particular phobia is specific to peanut butter itself, which must be so widespread that it merits a phobia all of its own.

Do people still experience this phobia even if they never eat peanut butter?

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Phobias — Phobophobia

A morbid dread or fear of developing a phobia.

This one is my favorite. Nothing to worry about? Why not worry about being worried?!

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Relatives — Syngenesophobia

The fear of relatives.

I know I have syngenesophobia.

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Snow — Chionophobia

An abnormal and persistent fear of snow.

I know I have chionophobia.

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Speaking — Laliophobia or Lalophobia

The irrational fear of speaking or of trying to speak. Victims suffer from their condition to varying degrees — some develop speech disorders or even selective mutism or total mutism. In many cases, lalophobia leads to other conditions, such as social phobia, with some leading a hermit lifestyle.

I teeter dangerously close to running away to live a hermit lifestyle.

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String — Linonophobia

The abnormal fear of string.

Get it away! Get that string away from me! Aaaaaaaaaa!

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Teeth — Odontophobia

A morbid fear of teeth.

Sometimes I think being a dental hygienist is the most disgusting job in America. Scraping nasty smelly tartar off of people's teeth for a living?

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Thinking — Phronemophobia

The fear of thought or thinking, or the idea that the thoughts one’s having are bad or can cause them to go insane.

There are people whose own thoughts drive them more insane than the circumstances that surround them. That's for sure.

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Tickled by feathers or feathers — Pteronophobia

The persistent fear of being tickled by others or by feathers.

This one makes me giggle. No! Stay away from me with that feather! Get away! Aaaaaaaaa!

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Ugliness — Cacophobia

An uncommon fear of ugliness.

But is this a fear of your own ugliness or others'?

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Urine or urinating — Urophobia

Fear of the act of urinating in a public rest room, of hearing others urinating, or of urine itself.

Pee shy anyone? I do have a terrible time when I'm at a party or gathering of some sort and someone uses the restroom and I can hear them peeing while the rest of us are just sitting there. I always want to giggle. I have found strategic ways to pee silently. I'll be happy to share them with you if anyone asks.

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Ventriloquist’s dummy — Automatonophobia

Fear of ventriloquist’s dummies, animatronic creatures, or wax statues.

Oh yeah. These are kind of creepy.

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Words, long — Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia or Sesquipedalophobia

The length of the phobic term is rather ironic to its meaning — the fear of long words.

Aaaaaaaa! It's a long word! Get it away! Aaaaaaaaaaaa!

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What are your phobias?

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Q & A With Your Token Gay, Vol. XV

Your question is important to us. Please stay on the line. Questions will be answered in the order in which they were received.

Several viewers of The Jason Show have posed the question:

"Is Anderson Cooper Gay?"


While you may find this hard to believe, Anderson Cooper and I do not know each other. We aren't friends, and he has not publicly divulged the truth about his sexuality. Therefore, I have taken it upon myself to do some highly scientific, 100% reliable and accurate research on the World Wide Web. While I respect Mr. Cooper's choice to not speak publicly about his personal life, I'm sure he realizes that someone in his position of fame and notoriety will have a difficult time hiding secrets. There is much speculation on the subject.

These are the results of my study:



From Yahoo! Answers:

"Anderson is not married and has never been married. The posters claiming he's married are either confused or just blatantly making up porkies. Anderson lives with his male partner (the man thanked in the dedication of his book) and is out to everyone except the press, and that is only because he doesn't feel the need to share his love life with the press. But it is very out even to people who know him only casually. There is no way to 'prove' that of course, because people will believe whatever they want to believe (not that being gay is something bad that needs to be proven) but there are zillions of people in NY who know him as a happily (almost) out gay man.
Source(s):
I worked on the TV show Queer Eye, Anderson is good friends with some of our cast. I've met him and his partner."

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If Yahoo! Answers doesn't quench your thirst for the truth, then check out this bit from Wikipedia:

"Cooper has never married and has actively avoided discussing his private life, citing a desire to protect his neutrality as a journalist:
"I understand why people might be interested. But I just don’t talk about my personal life. It’s a decision I made a long time ago, before I ever even knew anyone would be interested in my personal life. The whole thing about being a reporter is that you're supposed to be an observer and to be able to adapt with any group you’re in, and I don’t want to do anything that threatens that."[4]
His public reticence contrasts deliberately with his mother's life spent in the spotlight of tabloid journalists and her publication of memoirs explicitly detailing her affairs with celebrities; Cooper vowed "not to repeat that strategy".[7][8][9] Independent news media have reported that Cooper is gay,[note 1] and in May 2007, Out magazine ranked him second behind David Geffen in their list of the fifty "Most Powerful Gay Men and Women in America."[10] Cooper has discussed his desire to have a family and children.[5]"

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There were countless other links related to this question, but essentially they all came back to the above articles. So now you know.

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Your question is important to us. Please stay on the line. Questions will be answered in the order in which they were received.

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Dashed to Bits

A few days ago I posted about some crows who persistently attempt to build nests in an overhang at my school and the custodian who just as persistently battles them.

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A few days after that post, a maintenance worker brought a tall ladder and propped it way up against the supporting beam:

Days worth of meticulous and tireless work were unceremoniously flung down to the stair landing. Fortunately, there weren't yet any eggs in the nest.

Meanwhile, the crows flew around nervously and paced the roof line with sticks in their mouths, never taking their wild eyes off of the maintenance man.



Why did my insides turn upside down as I witnessed this scene? After all, they're just birds, right? Many people find crows highly annoying. Some of you are afraid of them. Some even call them evil!
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In a matter of mere seconds, something that two living creatures had put so much time and effort into building, something that was to be their home and a home for their offspring, was dashed to bits. Dashed to bits by someone who was just doing his job, someone who probably doesn't care one way or another about crows.
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Maybe I'm on my man period.

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Stream of Consciousness Blogging: Spilled Coffee and 70 People in My House

I was precariously balancing two empty water glasses and a full cup of coffee in my arms as I began my descent down the stairs. At that precise moment Diego playfully bumped into me from behind, which caused me to lose my balance and grip on the glasses and the coffee. BOUNCE! SPLATTER! CRASH! Shattered glass and sweet coffee sprayed all over the staircase, top to bottom. Niiiiiiice.

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That was the morning of Diego's birthday party, last Sunday. Before we even began planning his party, I made it clear to Giancarlo that I did not want a huge out of control party like we had a couple of years ago. Apparently that went in one ear and out the other because would you care to guess how many four and five year olds (and their parents) we had crammed into our house and backyard? Thirty five. Thirty five kids plus their parents. That made about seventy.

Se-ven-teeeeeeee.

I typically don't like hosting parties anyway, but this? This was MADNESS. My friends Tami and JL0 sat in the family room and just laughed and laughed at me as I ran to and fro amidst the cacophony with a big fake grin plastered on my face.

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Ohhh, you should have seen me gathering 35 preschoolers into one spot for the pinata. You should have seen me skillfully managing them, letting them get up one at a time to hit the pinata. You should have seen me telling them that when the pinata broke, they needed to wait their turn to go and get some candy because we didn't want anyone to get hurt, right? You should have seen my mother-in-law open the back door and shout, "Come on kids, get the candy!!!" You should have seen them rush at the candy. Now, I realize that with a pinata, that is what kids are supposed to do--rush at the candy. But not when there are 35 of them that could easily get trampled. The school teacher in me just couldn't allow that. But the Mexican in my MIL couldn't allow orderly gathering of candy. Speaking of candy....

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I'm going to the Britney Spears concert next week!!! I'm going with five of my girlz, including JLo and my tall, sweet, mild, next-top-model-beautiful elementary school teacher with sparkling eyes and a smile that will cheer up any day friend of mine that you may have read about here. Five years ago I would never have imagined me going to a Britney Spears concert, but her last three albums have just been too good to ignore and not embrace with every fiber of my being, crazy antics and all. The Pussycat Dolls will be opening for her. I have never been into The Pussycat Dolls; they always just seemed like Vegas showgirls without much particular talent other than looking good. So, since I will be seeing them, I decided I needed to give them a chance and get to know them and their music. And you know? I kind of like them. Some of their songs are very catchy, and they are definitely sassy. I especially like their lead singer.

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I also wanted to go see Depechemode at the Hollywood Bowl in August, but tickets are sold out for all three nights. How I love the Hollywood Bowl. How I love Depechemode. I saw kd Lang at the Hollywood Bowl, along with Rufus Wainwright. They were incredible. Especially kd. Her voice is like velvet. We almost didn't make it to the concert because our shuttle bus got in an accident on the way. Just a fender bender, but I was sure we would get held up.

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Speaking of getting held up, my tall, sweet, mild, next-top-model-beautiful elementary school teacher with sparkling eyes and a smile that will cheer up any day friend's husband was taking the train home the other night when someone decided to lay down on the tracks in front of the train. Apparently the CSI people and the HAZMAT team were cleaning up parts from underneath the train for hours, and everyone on the train had to stay on board until it was all done. That took hours and hours, and my tall, sweet, mild, next-top-model-beautiful elementary school teacher with sparkling eyes and a smile that will cheer up any day's husband sat for six hours. Top model friend sat in the train station's parking lot for six hours. Top model friend's husband's cell phone was out of battery, so top model friend wasn't sure what in the world was going on all this time. The worst part was that he had to pee really badly, and he refused to use the train toilet. So guys? Please don't ever lay down on train tracks. If you're wanting to do yourself in, there are surely better ways to do the job. Like a tasteless, odorless poison in your diet coke that just makes you go to sleep quietly and just slip away, no muss, no fuss.

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The Persistence of Crows

For years I've been observer to an ongoing battle between woman and beast. Every spring the crows in our school's area decide that the beam supporting an overhang above the stairs outside my classroom would be an ideal spot to build a nest. They tirelessly gather their sticks, twigs, bits of twine and fabric and whatever else they can find and painstakingly build their home, all the while covering the stairs and walkway with nest material and and sizable splats of creamy crow excrement.

It makes Thomasa, our daytime custodian, absolutely batty. Each year as the crows begin their process, Thomasa comes up new ways to defeat them. The first year she spent the better of part of April standing on the stairs with a hose, spraying down the birds' construction area, keeping the nest wet and knocking down some of the branches with the water stream.

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Never mind that lines of children and their brow-raising teachers were needing to go up and down the stairs all day long.

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The crows perched and fidgeted impatiently on the roof of the school and watch, cawing loudly at her. But at 2:45 each day when Thomasa drove away, they would instantly resume their task.

The following year, Thomasa took the poking and prodding approach. She found an extra long rod used for replacing light bulbs in high places and she stood on the stair landing, competing with the crows. For every stick they put in place, she knocked one down.

Didn't she have floors to wax or urinals to clean or something?

One spring I arrived early each day to Thomasa standing on the quad throwing rocks at the crows, shouting at them to go away and leave her alone. I began to question her mental stability.

This year, Thomasa and the district facilities people thought they had it all figured out once and for all. They brought in the big guns and with the district hydraulic lift, they meticulously strung wires parallel to the beams, in an effort to keep the crows from entering the area.

As the photograph illustrates, these wires now serve as much-needed extra support for the heavy nests. I'm sure the crows are grateful, and I'm certain that Teresa and the facilities people will be eating crow.

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Thomasa is on vacation right now. When she returns I have a feeling that she is going to snap like a brittle nest stick. Mark my words, these crows will finally push her over the edge. I can just imagine her shooting flaming arrows up into the nest, or tossing grenades.

All these years I've been silently cheering for the crows. And now, it seems that their persistence is paying off. What's the saying? Oh, yes.

If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.

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