I Didn't Get It

I'm going to flog the hell out of a dead horse. Bear with me, because I don't often keep as up-to-date with news as I should. I mean, I was excited about the SCOTUS decision regarding health care coverage, but I was also exhausted with Facebook and its political leanings, so I avoided a whole lot of coverage. My best thought regarding the constitutionality of the Affordable Care Act was that we can't know what it's going to look like on the United States as we've never worn such an outfit.

Clever, no? Thanks.

I saw a whole lot of vitriol. I giggled over the number of lawyers (and their loved ones) who posted this:

I braced myself for what was bound to be at least a day-long battle of I'm-Smarter-Than-You comments on people's posts. What I was unprepared for was this:

I had to ask about this. I still have to ask about this. I don't understand what Dred Scott has to do with health insurance. If you guys know, please tell me. I'm serious here - I don't think I'm entirely an idiot. I can explain the difference between substantive and procedural due process with only a few examples in place of definitions, and I realize that explaining by example is a lesser form of definition than a true definition (but it's a lot easier).

I think of this today as I'm catching up with Popehat, a favorite blog of mine when I want to read something with substantially more thought put into it than I put into writing for you guys. (Apologies all around, but I consider this more a diary than a place for discourse, and diary entries really aren't known for pre-planning.) I was pleased to see Patrick's list of SCOTUS cases even more horrifying than this decision, and I agree whole-heartedly with him. 

I hope the (what is it now?) 33 attempts from the House Republicans to repeal the law will end, as we have better things to do, like figure out how else we can screw over those who pay for private insurance already. Tax hike, anyone? 

Karen Klein

I tried to watch the entire video of this woman being harassed on the bus by junior-high kids, but I couldn't do it. I could not get through all ten-ish minutes of the ordeal. Not being able to do so made me feel even worse, because here this woman had to endure such cruelty and know that she could not react, and I'm too big of a wuss to watch it from afar.

Some brave chick I am.

I am so very glad that the Reddits and the indegogos are helping this woman, and I hope she can enjoy a healthy retirement and vacation and maybe, I don't know, one of the punching bags that looks like a real guy? 'Cos I think I'd be into hitting one of those for an hour or year.

The whole episode reminded me of a class period I "taught" when I was a substitute teacher. Here, let me set it up for you:

I was in my late twenties and I was a substitute for a semester, mostly because my mother both threatened to kick me out of the house if I didn't start doing something useful and she was a teacher at the school, so I had a cozy quasi-permanent sub position. I worked with all four years of high school kids and for the most part, particularly over time, I really did enjoy it. I enjoyed it so much I considered staying in the school system, but that didn't pan out, and it's a story for another day.

I was engaged at the time, and the kids (they were freshmen, I believe) were really interested in my life. Anything to avoid working, and who doesn't like thinking that kids find an adult's story fascinating? So the kids asked me about my fiance, and how we met, and how long we had been together, and did I have a picture of him? Yes, I did, and I showed them, which caused one boy to grab the picture and throw it in the trashcan. This almost brought me to tears, and I didn't know how to respond, but the girls in the class did.

Thank goodness for girls who are young and true believers in true love! This boy got an earful about respect and kindness and , "GET HER PICTURE OUT OF THAT TRASH RIGHT NOW!" So he did, and we all moved on, and the class ended, and honestly, although I didn't hold his actions against that kid, I never showed another picture to a class again.

So I'm thinking that the greater tragedy for Ms. Klein is that the other kids on the bus weren't strong enough to shut down the cruelty of a few. I don't think anyone else could have really quieted the noise other than someone in their peer group.

Experiment

Like pretty much everyone I know, I have many email accounts. At last count, I think I have five. There might be more. Wait, I just thought of another, although I don't think I've ever used it.

Of those six email addresses, four are with gmail. I'm digging gmail as I get better and better using it. It's substantially awesome for work, because my cable and internet-based provider only allow about four gigabytes of data to be sent. Only FOUR. That's crap. Considering that my scanner does not have the ability to decrease the size of documents, you can imagine how many things I cannot send to clients or myself or the court system.

Think, for just a minute, how large a bankruptcy filing is. Potentially hundreds of pages. Hundreds of pages through my scanner would probably be about twenty gigs of data. My regular email system just exploded.

Anyway, the point of this is that I am currently signed into Google with at least two email addresses, one for work and one for fun, and I'm about to sign into another account with a third.

If you find you can't search today and Google is really slow, you can blame me.

A Wish

I listen to a lot of different kinds of music, and lately my groove has been set to dance music. I like the bouncy beats, the infectious grooves, the whatever, the energy. So I've decided that one of the neatest things that could happen to me would be this:

I'd like to commandeer a nightclub, its lights and sound system, for about thirty minutes. I don't want to do this while anyone's there - I couldn't take the pressure of trying to ensure a good time for all. Plus I think I'm too old for that sort of thing. I've not been to a nightclub in at least eight years and I really have no interest in returning.

Still, I think it would be awesome to queue up what I want to hear in the way it's intended to be heard. Honestly, Lady Gaga and LMFAO and stuff like that are not really meant for a car stereo or the radio in my bathroom. These kinds of tunes are designed for maximum acoustics and noise-spread, and just for a while, I want to hear them that way.

Also: I've become re-addicted to Bejeweled. I blame you, Google Chrome Store.

Memorial Day Shopping

Last night I took a little pill to help me sleep. I'm one of those who can fall asleep quickly, but cannot stay asleep. This works out just fine if I go to bed at 9, because then the middle-of-the-night panic attack that wakes me and keeps me awake for three hours can't ruin the whole night. But last night, I was really wrecked, so I took the pill at 8:30, went to bed at 10, and was still awake after midnight, reading a book, long after GPOM had tucked me and himself into bed. Glorious.

By 11 this morning, the pill hadn't worn off. I was awake around 7, but stoned until noon. However, this wasn't so bad because I didn't have to meet Momma until one. I made it, only a teensy bit stoned. No driving threat here!

We bought every color of the rainbow T-shirt at the store, and my best find was a fourteen dollar Ralph Lauren shirt. You read that right.

$14 RALPH LAUREN SHIRT. I AM THE QUEEN OF BARGAIN SHOPPING.

Next we went in search of food, but decided that we were above food court "food". This means a trip to Cracker Barrel. No judgment please. I know about its checkered history. I hate its checkered history. But damn, that place can make a mean veggie plate. (Only 40% meat and meat by-products!)

But before then, there was a quick pit-stop at Bath and Body Works, because I was whiny and the only way for Momma to shut me up was to buy me six bottles of foaming hand soap. (Trust me when I tell you it's worth spending the $20 on me. I can be whiny like only an overtired toddler at Disney can be whiny. Plus, I was hungry, so add a missed Disney Princess breakfast to that toddler's attitude, and you're almost close to mine.) On the way out I saw a display of my absolute favorite scent, the Energy Orange and Ginger body wash. It was on sale for $5/bottle, marked down from $13/bottle.

What could I do? I grabbed two, found Momma a place to sit, and went to the checkout. The lady there told me today was the last day of the sale, and if I bought them all, she'd help me to my car. Sixteen bottles and about eighty dollars later, I will smell fantastic through Christmas.

That's a guarantee right there.

A Quick Love Note

What, you thought I'd forget to honor my mother today? The woman who gave me life, sarcasm, and a strong sense of my own awesomeness?

I'll thank her for you.

Today I told Momma that the one thing I really wish I had was a cold beer. It's probably been about three months since I've had one. We had a misery-loves-company shopping excursion, where we discovered that everyone else is a pain in the ass and that we are amazing. Driving her home, I mentioned the beer, and she said that she had some, and would I like to take some home with me?

Um...yeah.

So she gave me three Yuengling Lights, while guaranteeing to me that taking three of them was not in fact too greedy, as she had nine left from her pack. I asked her if she thought it would be OK if I just drank one on the road home.

"Well, they're warm..." she said.

Avatar

All right, let's do this. I realize ahead of time that I could upset some people.

Duly noted.

Why in the world do people use pictures of their children as their avatars? It makes absolutely no sense to me. There's a safety issue attached, and there's a real question of priorities as well. Do you not like your own looks? I've had someone use that reason. Are you extra-super-proud of your children? I've heard that one as well.

It makes me wonder if some people lessen their own value in order to elevate their child's. That is a big ol' problem in my view, because not only does it create a heavy burden for a child (if I'm more important than mom or dad, then I must be responsible  for him/her as well) but it can also elevate the child's self-esteem to an unhealthy level. I think we've all seen what happens when someone believes his own hype. Those people are freaking annoying.

As an aside, I spoke about this with GPOM, and he concisely stated what I was meanderingly thinking: I'm friends with you, not your kid. And here's the bad news: I don't think your child is as endlessly fascinating as you do. I think your kid's just fine. Hell, I might even like your kid. But you are my friend, you are the one I want to see on the internet, and you are the one I discuss life with.

So show yourself and be yourself.