A Little Rant That Won't Hurt A Bit

One of my biggest pet peeves in the whole entire world is when people screw up my name. It's not a difficult name. It's a classic name, which now has so many permutations that the original is the rare version. It's Christine, but you knew that already.

I mean, I can live with the nicknames from my family, friends, and the one that has stuck since high school. Although, luckily, most of my friends from there now know not to call me that name. If they do, it's in a moment of reminiscing or kindness. So that's not so bad.

Here's what NOT to call me:

1. Chris
2. Kristen
3. Christina
4. Chrissie
5. Christa
6. Christian

I generally don't talk about this because it REALLY, REALLY bothers me to be called anything other than my name. And most people either a) want to dig into the psychology of why it bothers me so much to be addressed incorrectly, or b) thinks it's funny to tease me about it.

So here's some truth: Just don't do it. Don't call me anything other than Christine. It will only serve to royally piss me off and make me wonder if we should even be friends/acquaintances/someone I felt obligated to add on Facebook.

kthxbye.

I'm The Lucky One

The last few days have been tough. I've got some friends dealing with some serious problems, and I've tried to be there for them. Imperfectly, I know, but I've been thinking about them and their worries for a while.

Last night, I finally got a chance to talk with the boy around 10:30. By then I was tired and getting close to weepy. He told me about what's going on with him, and then he said, "So what's going on with you? How's work?" I told him that I didn't want to talk about work because there's so much background information required that it just wasn't worth the effort. "Tell me," he replied softly.

So I tried to talk about two coworkers and how I'm worried for my own position when one returns, and I tried to explain about their personalities, but then I just gave up. It was quiet for a minute, and then the boy spoke.

"Honey," he said sweetly, "When you get up here, let's take one evening and let me wrap you in my favorite blanket and just hold you. Just let me take care of you. You need it too."

Six weeks and counting.

Laughingstock, Once Again

I'll be honest. When this story first broke, I paid it little attention. It just seemed like something that Alabama would absolutely do. Somehow, today, the story caught my interest. I was reading Above The Law and came across this link. Which, of course, led me here.

What really caught my eye were these two quotes: Public morality can still serve as a legitimate rational basis for regulating commercial activity, which is not a private activity, Supreme Court justices wrote in the opinion issued Friday. And, even better: As the Eleventh Circuit in Williams IV pithily and somewhat coarsely stated: There is nothing 'private' or 'consensual' about the advertising and sale of a dildo.

I can't seem to get my head around this. I did search, quite in vain, for the slip copy of the Supreme Court's decision, only to find that for a mere $17 I could have it. That absolutely sucks, but isn't my point. (However, law should not be only for those who can afford it.)

So, is the issue here the commercialization of such shops? In that case, how 'bout we ban gun advertising? Something tells me that a lot more people have been harmed with guns than have with dildoes.

And oh, how I love the ACLU. It fought the law declaring illegal the sale of "any device designed or marketed as useful primarily for the stimulation of human genital organs. And it lost. But at least it tried. And folks, in this story, they quoted the Alabama Attorney General as saying, "a ban on the sale of sexual devices and related orgasm-stimulating paraphernalia is rationally related to a legitimate legislative interest in discouraging prurient interests in autonomous sex."

I would really like to know how. Honestly. If you can explain it to me, please let me know and we'll have a very interesting conversation.

But with things like this happening, how can anyone be worried about sex toys (excuse me, "marital aids")?

Just So You Know

I am thinking, just not writing. I don't know why. Today, though, it's because I'm really, really overtired and anything I write would be even dumber than this post.

Maybe I can get an idea out tomorrow at work. Anything in particular you'd like to know about?

What I Did All Weekend

I know you folks have been waiting with bated breath for a recap of my weekend. Well, lovelies, your hopes are about to come true!

Friday:

It's a surprisingly large state, this here Alabama. I mean, I know it's a long state, but I had no idea how wide it is. It took me about three hours to get to Mississippi (like anyone's in a hurry to get there, but still...). In Mississippi I saw a field of FEMA trailers left over from Katrina. It was a trailer graveyard. Strange. I wished there had been a sign warning me so I could've pulled over and taken pictures.

Finally made it into Louisiana, only to discover that interstate 12 is an absolute abortion. I mean, it was terrible. Bad drivers, bad road...awful. Luckily it was the last thirty miles of my trip, so I managed to make it through unscathed.

I arrived and was a thrilling house guest, what with the alternating yawns and hyperness, brought on by a lot of Red Bull. Oh, did I have wings. But when those wings fell off, I crashed pretty hard...

Saturday:

Wade and I went to the mall and got me the prettiest prettiest dress ever. See, the boy is taking me to he opera next month, so certainly I needed a new dress. It's black jersey on the top and shades of blue on bottom, and the fabric on the bottom is accordion-style...



Saturday night Wade and I went to a casino. I was super excited, as I love to gamble. And by 'gamble', I mean nickel slots. With twenty bucks. Yes, I know what a high-roller I am. No need to be jealous. This casino was pretty bad - it was like Gamblers Anonymous created a place from which to cull new members. Wade's drink was weak, mine was strong, but that only seems fair since she won money and I did not. I lost money and pouted through a smile until we got to go home. Wade's as big a gambling enthusiast as I am.

Sunday:

New Orleans! Wade and I struck out around 1pm and hit French Quarter with the kind of vengeance a stay-at-home mother and underemployed lawyer can. We ate red beans and rice and bread pudding...



Can I just get a Twitter-style NOM NOM NOM?

Next we walked around Jackson Square, looking for someone to read my tarot cards (shut up) and maybe give me a henna tattoo. The psychics all looked pretty non-clairvoyant, so we skipped that plan. Instead, we walked past a street artist and his works, and I saw the most amazing piece of art.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the bestest find I've gotten since the Hell artwork the boy bought for me:

Introducing...Demented Chicken!



I absolutely love this, and it now holds a vaulted space just outside my kitchen. Wade and I then shopping for silliness - t-shirts, other things, and then, just as we were about to have to start kicking tourists, we got out of there.

When we got back, Wade's husband took us out for Mexican food. Can I just tell you that I love Wade's husband? This was the exchange between the waitress and me (mind you, Wade has two small children):

Waitress: Something to drink?
Me: Got any Xanax back there? (Nodding towards kids)
Waitress: ...
Waitress: I don't think so.
Me: Oh, all right. Margarita rocks, please.

5 minutes later.

Waitress: Anything else?
Me: Find any Xanax?
Waitress: Unfortunately, no.
Me: Oh, all right. Another margarita rocks please.

See how clever I am? I'm sure she didn't find me at all annoying.

Monday:

I packed up my goods and got ready to leave. I walked past Wade's husband and said, "If you help me load up, I'll be gone more quickly." That man got up with a speed I hadn't seen all weekend.

It was a lovely trip. I'm looking forward to returning. Thanks Wade, Wade's husband, and Wade's small children!

Placekeeper

I promise to tell you all about my trip to Baton Rouge and New Orleans soon. Right now I'm so wired on caffeine that my thoughts would be more stream-of-consciousness than usual.

Also, I've got a post in the works about how I probably wouldn't be a good parent, in which Wade and her husband look like rock stars and I look like a dope.

You don't want to miss either one! Stay tuned...

I Need The Laugh

It's been a weird twenty-four hours. After some drama last night, I found that I was in pretty good mood today. This surprised me. I thought I'd be anxious and shaky and worried and all those other bad-tummy feelings. Instead, I was busy, cheerful, and productive, and when I got home and GOT ON THE INTERNET (that's directed at someone we shall refer to as 'the boy'. Yeah.) I found a Facebook update referencing despair.com. Folks, this site saved my life when I worked for the software engineering company.

I'm going to share my favorite with you, right here, and hopefully the lovely people at Despair.com will not send me a cease-and-desist letter. If you love these too, go spend your hard-earned cash over at the site. I know I have.









And, finally, a personal favorite. Momma's got this one hanging in her classroom. Good thing she's got tenure, huh?