Before I was able to finish my first rant on forcing locals to pay fees for parking their cars. (Ha.) Our own Dear Leader pulled another stunt. So now, if a "neighbor" who doesn't even live in the neighborhood wants to sell a house they're (morbidly) waiting to inherit for a bazillion dollars, and starts complaining about another neighbors yard in fear it might decrease the future ka-ching in their own pockets, Dear Leader will come in and not only take your stuff that can be deemed "junk", but EVERYTHING that isn't tied down with electrified chains.
Do you like to Barbeque? Tough, because Billy Bob Boy will take your grill if it ain't gold plated and "Hamptons Pretty" enough. Do you sell hot dogs in the summer for some extra money in a cool truck dubbed The Patriotic Peddler in this difficult economy? Not anymore! That sucker's getting destroyed and dragged onto a not-so-patriotic flatbed. How about some awesome antiques and classic cars? Dear Leader says nope! Those are going to be recycled (in other words SOLD to a plant for scrapmetal money. We're not stupid, that's what recycling metal is.) Hey, is that a chair and table you're sitting eating a sandwich on? Hand it over, and if it's light mayo I'll take the sandwich too. Confiscating property sure does work up an appetite. Warrant say what? Paperwork proving the dozens of men and machines carving up your yard and taking your stuff? Who? No hablo englais, Senior Blanco. No idea what you're talkin' about. Hey, is that a basset hound?
Just kidding. They didn't take Lord Nelson... as far as I know.
Don't get me wrong, Mr. Whites yard wasn't the purdiest thing, I know because I as a kid lived right behind him and he was one of my favorite lovably eccentric neighbors. His property could very well be the reason no one has found Jimmy Hoffa. But really? The guy lives between a dead end street and low-traffic hill, and although the yard itself was cluttered with everything from a 6 foot tall hotdog to a catamaran, you didn't even notice it unless you're right there. Personally I want to know what safety violations the hot dog posed. Was it radioactive or a cleverly disguised weapon of mass destruction? Did it come to life at the light of the Full Moon and vandalize neighboring houses with ketchup and mustard packets? The cars and boat were deemed "public safety violations." That must mean they were filled with toxic waste and were a the main source of our Swine Flu epidemic. Or maybe one was housing a litter of Montauk Monsters he was feeding small animals to and caring for. For God sakes people, there's a full sized basketball court hundreds of young kids must play on right next to the place according to Bill!
No? Just a court? No again? A hoop on the side of the road? Oops, my bad.
Well, something about the property HAD to be harmful to someones safety. That's why everyone who ripped the place up that Friday did so in Biohazard suits. Right?
Oh, no suits? Maybe masks then at least, right? No again? Huh, weird.
And people are complaining about warrants. Come on now, this is the Billinator we're talking about, he thinks Legal is a new hybrid pet cross between a Lemur and Beagle. (I think I saw a couple of those being walked in Town the other day.) If the ACLU hears about this and decides to jump his gun, he'll just bat his eyes innocently, pucker his lips in his favorite heels, low cut flannel and Daisy Dukes, and when they're good and distracted throw a lawyer curled into the fetal position and screaming "BUT BILL I DON'T WANT THIS CASE!" at them.
What's next? If I have to run to the deli before my morning shower for some sugar (because I HAVE to shower with my coffee), is Bill going to sent his crew of Stealth Hygeine Ninjas to spray me down with a hose of aerosol deoderant, powder my face and change me into a pair of slacks... and then bill me for it?
So Rian, if Bill was so uptight about your belongings, what is he going to do if I decide not to mow my lawn and weed my garden? I hope he comes over and does it for me, I've been pretty lazy lately and my yard is quite a mess. Oh, Bill, My truck hasn't been washed lately either, do you mind? I only use turtle wax on it after, though, so don't get all cheap and buy some generic Walmart stuff. My mailbox and front door needs a new coat of paint too, oh and I haven't done my gutters yet. Hurry, before my neighbors start worrying about their public safety! Long grass can have potentially property-value-lowering deer ticks, that can't be ignored!
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
A Serious PSA For Parents
No parent should ever, ever experience a complete stranger causing any level of harm to their child, but unfortunately we experienced such an event Thursday, May 21st at Waldbaums on Newtown Lane between 6 and 6:30pm. While checking out my groceries with my daughter in the cart, a lady behind us was behaving oddly, raising her arms up and sighing exaggeratingly since we were taking a while (I had quite the cart full), and my 3 year old was hungry and tired after a long day in the sun, causing her to whine and rub her eyes in a normal, preschooler way.
When my daughter reached over and touched her toilet paper (since the lady didn't use a divider, my daughter assumed it was ours), the woman snapped and smackes my daughter in the arm by the wrist. Shocked, my child pulled away, holding her arm and staring at her without a word, and chaos ensued as I stepped in and asked her What in the holy hell she was thinking laying a hand my daughter.
Words were exchanged and the manager stepped in to diffuse the situation, and along with our cashier she handled it in an absolutely amazing manner of grace and charm which I am ever so grateful for, keeping my daughter occupied and telling me it will be alright, while I was shaking too hard to even swipe my debit card properly. My husband and I then rushed our children to our truck, but the woman fled before I returned to call the police. All we have now is a desciption of who appeared to be the Cryptkeepers Wife in a gaudy black hat with white zebra stripes who possibly lives off of goats blood, has an amazing affinity for toilet paper and a voilently predatory urge to hurt children.
I would of (and regretfully should of) kept the woman at the store until the proper authorities arrived, but as a mother, I was so overwhelmed with shock and rage at her actions, I now only regret that I was unable to see her odd behavior before the assault as a warning to protect my child from her in the first place. It's now 7am the following day and I am still at a loss as visions of my daughter holding her arm and widening her eyes in fear and hurt played through my head all night, though everyone who has so far heard what happened from both myself and others in the store have been amazingly supportive in telling me I restrained myself well, and how as parents they would of retaliated in the same way if not worse. If a cart wasn't between us we would probably both be eating our breakfast in jail. That is a fact I am sure any parent can relate to.
Moral of the story: Now that Summer has officially begun with Memorial Day Weekend arriving, please, everyone needs to keep in mind what kind of unstable people can appear around here. Even if they claim to of been here all year long people are still able to transform themselves into complete animals at any age. Keep your children close, and if this ever happens to you and your child please, notify the authorities immediately no matter how shocking and enraging it feels. Men and women like her do indeed exist, running loose until they hit the next child and are unable to escape the wrath of the protective parent and police afterwards.
When my daughter reached over and touched her toilet paper (since the lady didn't use a divider, my daughter assumed it was ours), the woman snapped and smackes my daughter in the arm by the wrist. Shocked, my child pulled away, holding her arm and staring at her without a word, and chaos ensued as I stepped in and asked her What in the holy hell she was thinking laying a hand my daughter.
Words were exchanged and the manager stepped in to diffuse the situation, and along with our cashier she handled it in an absolutely amazing manner of grace and charm which I am ever so grateful for, keeping my daughter occupied and telling me it will be alright, while I was shaking too hard to even swipe my debit card properly. My husband and I then rushed our children to our truck, but the woman fled before I returned to call the police. All we have now is a desciption of who appeared to be the Cryptkeepers Wife in a gaudy black hat with white zebra stripes who possibly lives off of goats blood, has an amazing affinity for toilet paper and a voilently predatory urge to hurt children.
I would of (and regretfully should of) kept the woman at the store until the proper authorities arrived, but as a mother, I was so overwhelmed with shock and rage at her actions, I now only regret that I was unable to see her odd behavior before the assault as a warning to protect my child from her in the first place. It's now 7am the following day and I am still at a loss as visions of my daughter holding her arm and widening her eyes in fear and hurt played through my head all night, though everyone who has so far heard what happened from both myself and others in the store have been amazingly supportive in telling me I restrained myself well, and how as parents they would of retaliated in the same way if not worse. If a cart wasn't between us we would probably both be eating our breakfast in jail. That is a fact I am sure any parent can relate to.
Moral of the story: Now that Summer has officially begun with Memorial Day Weekend arriving, please, everyone needs to keep in mind what kind of unstable people can appear around here. Even if they claim to of been here all year long people are still able to transform themselves into complete animals at any age. Keep your children close, and if this ever happens to you and your child please, notify the authorities immediately no matter how shocking and enraging it feels. Men and women like her do indeed exist, running loose until they hit the next child and are unable to escape the wrath of the protective parent and police afterwards.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Dear Bill McGinfee
Bill, Bill, Bill. I just have to shake my head at you. I can't even imagine how terribly difficult it must be to manage a town where ninety-nine percent of it's residents pretty much consider you a tool these days, and I admire your cajones of steel for keepin' on. I mean really, people getting their panties in a wad just because you lost track of a couple million dollars here and there is just absurd, am I right? So allow me to come through the angry crowd and offer you not only support, but more ideas on how you can make some more money. Charging residents 25 dollars to park at their own beaches? GENIOUS! But come on, Billy, why stop there when there are thousands more you can make without leaving that cushy seat. Here me out, I don't even know why you haven't brought ideas like this up already.
Playgrounds for example. They're freaking everywhere and people use them ALL the time, right? Even kids love them, so why not fence those suckers in and charge a small fee per child, per hour. Let's say, five bucks. People won't mind, that's how much the average mother and nanny spends on their Starbucks drink they sip while they sit on the benches nearby (After they pay the dollar fee to sit, of course.) See? Instant cash right at your finger tips.
Oh, I've got more too. Since charging people to park their cars at beaches went over so well, it would be equally reasonable to charge motorists to drive down our roads too. We'll make up a permit that drivers have to stick on their bumpers for access to each hamlet and the village, and each permit can cost say, fifty bucks, annually, per vehicle. People who ride bicycles just have to stick each permit on their helmet, and if some stingy jerk refuses and tries to rebel by riding down a street without the correct permit, we tazer them. Yup, not only tazer them, but then charge the hooligan a fee for having to use the tazer! After all, those suckers can't be cheap, Bill.
That's not all! I also have ideas for jogging permits, skipping permits, kite flying permits, swimming permits, dog walking permits (with an extra fee for every dump the pooch takes on town property), eating permits, talking-on-your-cell-phone-while-leaning-up-against-a-town-tree-or-light-pole permits, dancing permits, Ipod permits, Joy and Laughter permits, painting permits, cigarette smoking permits, laying on town grass to gaze at clouds and day dream about Johnny Depp permits, breathing permits, speaking permits, book reading permits, sticking chewed gum underneath that bench when no one's looking permits, bus stop useage permits, calling someone by a snappy nickname permits, permits to name your child anything starting with the letter M, and of course, complaining to you about anything ever permits (those are really, really expensive.)
Now I know what you're thinking. Liz, how can we pass all these amazing money making ideas by all those stupid locals. We need a really good way to pull the wool right over their eyes (and then charge a fee).
Well Bill, take a deep breath, you already figured that out when you passed the beach fee permits! We'll just hold a "public meeting" at say, 1 oclock(am) on a Tuesday and not tell anyone about it. Then, just to be safe, this time around we'll tweak it a bit and charge a fee to whoever shows up at the door! That'll fix them.
Well buddy, now all you need to do is implement these permits and you'll be rolling in dough again before you know it. Sure, people might continue to believe you're a tool and possibly form an voilently angry mob over these bits of sheer genious, but just put "pitchfork and torch weilding" permit into effect with an extravagant fee and you'll be fine, I guaranfee - I mean tee, guarantee, it.
Playgrounds for example. They're freaking everywhere and people use them ALL the time, right? Even kids love them, so why not fence those suckers in and charge a small fee per child, per hour. Let's say, five bucks. People won't mind, that's how much the average mother and nanny spends on their Starbucks drink they sip while they sit on the benches nearby (After they pay the dollar fee to sit, of course.) See? Instant cash right at your finger tips.
Oh, I've got more too. Since charging people to park their cars at beaches went over so well, it would be equally reasonable to charge motorists to drive down our roads too. We'll make up a permit that drivers have to stick on their bumpers for access to each hamlet and the village, and each permit can cost say, fifty bucks, annually, per vehicle. People who ride bicycles just have to stick each permit on their helmet, and if some stingy jerk refuses and tries to rebel by riding down a street without the correct permit, we tazer them. Yup, not only tazer them, but then charge the hooligan a fee for having to use the tazer! After all, those suckers can't be cheap, Bill.
That's not all! I also have ideas for jogging permits, skipping permits, kite flying permits, swimming permits, dog walking permits (with an extra fee for every dump the pooch takes on town property), eating permits, talking-on-your-cell-phone-while-leaning-up-against-a-town-tree-or-light-pole permits, dancing permits, Ipod permits, Joy and Laughter permits, painting permits, cigarette smoking permits, laying on town grass to gaze at clouds and day dream about Johnny Depp permits, breathing permits, speaking permits, book reading permits, sticking chewed gum underneath that bench when no one's looking permits, bus stop useage permits, calling someone by a snappy nickname permits, permits to name your child anything starting with the letter M, and of course, complaining to you about anything ever permits (those are really, really expensive.)
Now I know what you're thinking. Liz, how can we pass all these amazing money making ideas by all those stupid locals. We need a really good way to pull the wool right over their eyes (and then charge a fee).
Well Bill, take a deep breath, you already figured that out when you passed the beach fee permits! We'll just hold a "public meeting" at say, 1 oclock(am) on a Tuesday and not tell anyone about it. Then, just to be safe, this time around we'll tweak it a bit and charge a fee to whoever shows up at the door! That'll fix them.
Well buddy, now all you need to do is implement these permits and you'll be rolling in dough again before you know it. Sure, people might continue to believe you're a tool and possibly form an voilently angry mob over these bits of sheer genious, but just put "pitchfork and torch weilding" permit into effect with an extravagant fee and you'll be fine, I guaranfee - I mean tee, guarantee, it.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Tidbits and Puppy Breath
Toothpaste on a sponge takes CRAYON OFF OF WALLS! Woot. Take that Mr. Clean. That bald headed bastard thinks he can do anything.
We got a dog.
Honestly, what is the deal with this rain?! It's been raining here for almost EXACTLY a week. If this shit keeps up I'm building an ark.
Wait what? We got a dog? Yup. After we did some shopping on Tuesday I gave my dear hubby the big sweet eyes and asked if we can go play with puppies. You know, to compare breeds and see what we want and such. The sucker totally gave in in under five minutes and off we went to a kennel.
Oh, if you ever have a really bad week and don't have the money for a therapist, go to a puppy kennel. Nothing is better than being surrounded by dozens of adorable yip yappers in every size, shape and color. There was a toy yorkie there that, I kid you not, must of been no bigger than a hamster. We obviously couldn't go that route because he'd be Kiki The Psychocats breakfast. Ruby and I drifted around in our furry puppy breath bliss until the lady came in and said "You should go to the other room. I think your husband found something."
Ruh Roh.
We head over and there's my big burly husband, sitting on the floor indian style with what looked like a tiny bull mastiff on his lap. She was a 7 month old puggle.
I know, a puggle, one of those dreaded "Hybrid" dogs. Throw me bone here, (heh), I love pugs. LOVE. PUGS. But I just cannot deal with the breathing issues, heat stroke, face goo, and the fact that if you play with them to rough you run the risk of one of their big doe eyes popping out.
Not cool.
This dog was the last one of her litter, and was never sold due to a slight underbight and a funky toe. I think, we can live with that, especially if we get a deal on her.
We sho' did. We tested her with ourselves, the kids, signed off and took her home.
She is AMAZING. She loves both of my kids, plays, does all those great puppy things but is also very intelligent and relaxed. She has a great zen personality that is earily similar to Sam. No pug breathing and eye issues, and no beagle stubborness and desire to run 503 miles to follow the sent of a squirrel. Perfect. I asked the overexcited Ma what her name was and after a thoughtful minute she replied "LUCY!"
Welcome home, Lucy.
We got a dog.
Honestly, what is the deal with this rain?! It's been raining here for almost EXACTLY a week. If this shit keeps up I'm building an ark.
Wait what? We got a dog? Yup. After we did some shopping on Tuesday I gave my dear hubby the big sweet eyes and asked if we can go play with puppies. You know, to compare breeds and see what we want and such. The sucker totally gave in in under five minutes and off we went to a kennel.
Oh, if you ever have a really bad week and don't have the money for a therapist, go to a puppy kennel. Nothing is better than being surrounded by dozens of adorable yip yappers in every size, shape and color. There was a toy yorkie there that, I kid you not, must of been no bigger than a hamster. We obviously couldn't go that route because he'd be Kiki The Psychocats breakfast. Ruby and I drifted around in our furry puppy breath bliss until the lady came in and said "You should go to the other room. I think your husband found something."
Ruh Roh.
We head over and there's my big burly husband, sitting on the floor indian style with what looked like a tiny bull mastiff on his lap. She was a 7 month old puggle.
I know, a puggle, one of those dreaded "Hybrid" dogs. Throw me bone here, (heh), I love pugs. LOVE. PUGS. But I just cannot deal with the breathing issues, heat stroke, face goo, and the fact that if you play with them to rough you run the risk of one of their big doe eyes popping out.
Not cool.
This dog was the last one of her litter, and was never sold due to a slight underbight and a funky toe. I think, we can live with that, especially if we get a deal on her.
We sho' did. We tested her with ourselves, the kids, signed off and took her home.
She is AMAZING. She loves both of my kids, plays, does all those great puppy things but is also very intelligent and relaxed. She has a great zen personality that is earily similar to Sam. No pug breathing and eye issues, and no beagle stubborness and desire to run 503 miles to follow the sent of a squirrel. Perfect. I asked the overexcited Ma what her name was and after a thoughtful minute she replied "LUCY!"
Welcome home, Lucy.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Fox News, Vacuum Cleaners, and Three Year Olds
Can I just give a quick shout out: THANK YOU FOX NEWS - For scarring my daughter for life. My little bedheaded Ma woke up and wandered into the livingroom and took a seat on the couch. On TV they were covering a story on the theory of loud chaotic noises (hair dryers, .uum cleaners, ect.) calming fussy babies.
So what do they do? They bring out a real, angry, wailing, screaming baby.
Ma goes "Oh no! Baby's cryyyying!" and as I told her "Don't worry sweets." and started to walk into the kitchen the guy turns on a hair dryer, baby screams louder and Ma starts getting more upset.
I start walking back to change the channel and the dude takes the screaming baby and then turns on a va.cuum... and all Hell brakes loose in this house.
"OH NO MOMMY! LOOK! HE SUCKIN UP DA BABY! HALP DA BABY MOM HALP DA BABY!!" and then she runs over and holds Moo, who was playing quietly and minding his own business, "Dun worry baby, you no suck up baby." Ma bursts into tears.
Now I had a choice, turn the channel and let her freak out, or keep it on and cross my fingers that that baby stops . Luckily, after a minute the baby did stop and they had a close up of her with a bewildered, but happy look on her face.
"Look honey, they made baby all better." I go, while nodding like a maniac.
"YAY! BABY BETTER!" says Ma and runs into my bedroom.. I think, great, she's going on the computer or something, and I continue on my way to the kitchen.
Nope.
She comes out with my dustbuster and heads for Moo, who was cooing and kicking at toy elephants in his bouncy. I can't stop laughing, even now while she's in her room throwing a good holy hell nuclear meltdown hissy since I took the dustbuster away from her.
NOW I HAVE TO HIDE MY DAMN VACUUM CLEANERS!
So what do they do? They bring out a real, angry, wailing, screaming baby.
Ma goes "Oh no! Baby's cryyyying!" and as I told her "Don't worry sweets." and started to walk into the kitchen the guy turns on a hair dryer, baby screams louder and Ma starts getting more upset.
I start walking back to change the channel and the dude takes the screaming baby and then turns on a va.cuum... and all Hell brakes loose in this house.
"OH NO MOMMY! LOOK! HE SUCKIN UP DA BABY! HALP DA BABY MOM HALP DA BABY!!" and then she runs over and holds Moo, who was playing quietly and minding his own business, "Dun worry baby, you no suck up baby." Ma bursts into tears.
Now I had a choice, turn the channel and let her freak out, or keep it on and cross my fingers that that baby stops . Luckily, after a minute the baby did stop and they had a close up of her with a bewildered, but happy look on her face.
"Look honey, they made baby all better." I go, while nodding like a maniac.
"YAY! BABY BETTER!" says Ma and runs into my bedroom.. I think, great, she's going on the computer or something, and I continue on my way to the kitchen.
Nope.
She comes out with my dustbuster and heads for Moo, who was cooing and kicking at toy elephants in his bouncy. I can't stop laughing, even now while she's in her room throwing a good holy hell nuclear meltdown hissy since I took the dustbuster away from her.
NOW I HAVE TO HIDE MY DAMN VACUUM CLEANERS!
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