Sunday, May 31, 2009

Wacky Mac

So earlier this evening, Dave and I decided we'd grill some chicken. We haven't had old skool baked mac 'n cheese in a while so I mixed up a batch and popped it into the oven as our carbohydrate dish for the evening. Yeah. Um. I don't know what the hell happened but some of the eggs decided to sort of scramble.

You'd think a girl with ten plus years of cooking classes wouldn't have these sorts of disasters erupting from her oven but there it was. I'm convinced it was the lack of sour cream in the egg, milk and butter mixture. I've used that recipe a bajillion times and that's the only difference between tonight and the past.

Even though it looked like a bizarre macaroni and cheese quiche, it tasted so effing good. I'm kinda toying with the idea of trying to replicate it with some yummy ham or breakfast sausage the next time we're having brunch. It will either be totally scrumptious or a barftastic disaster. I'm feeling a bit adventurous lately so I'm going to go for it.

This is the second time in as many weeks I've had a major uh-oh in the kitchen. I made some whole wheat zucchini banana bread that refused to rise. I kept poking it with a knife while cursing the kitchen gods. Finally, I realized I'd forgotten to add baking soda. *Facepalm*

I'm convinced it's pregnancy brain. Zaphod has completely sucked my brain dry of all omega fatty acids. I think the DHA supplement in my prenatal vitamin is all that's keeping me from deflating into a slobbering, jabbering mess. From what I hear, it doesn't get any better after the baby makes her debut.

Good thing Dave has a stomach of steel. Who know what kind of nightmares I'll be dishing out in a few weeks?!?

Friday, May 29, 2009

Down the Rabbit Hole

So the other day while Dave and I waited to be called in for my ultrasound, we heard the announcement that Sonia Sotomayor had been chosen as Obama's nominee for the open position on the SCOTUS. I didn't think much of it since I was reading this totally lame and yet unbelievably engaging article on Pat Boone in some random magazine I'd picked up from the stack in the shared radiology/cardiology waiting area. As I was reading all about Pat Boone's favorite desserts, I suddenly heard Tucker Carlson start shouting wildly, "But she's a racist!"


I glanced up to see Tucker Carlson loosing his ever-loving mind on Fox News. I mean a straight up meltdown over Sonia Sotomayor's alleged racism. I sort of a laughed it off and headed into my ultrasound. By that evening, the entire far right wing of the GOP was in an apopleptic fit over Sotomayor. And I have to say, I find it hilarious.

First of all, it's quite apparent very few of these people screaming "RACISM" have criticial thinking skills. If you read the full context of the essay in question, Sotomayor simply states that a Latina woman with a life experience similar to hers would likely make different choices than a white male. I can't disagree with that. Our life experiences, whether we're born into wealth or poverty, the majority or minority, color our judgments and ideologies. To argue any differently seems a bit ridiculous.

Example? My dad went to school during the sixties. Because he was Latino, he was shoved into this little shithole of a classroom with all the other brown kids and treated as if he were mentally retarded because he spoke mainly Spanish. Was my dad slow? Um, no. Did he really need to be segregated from the rest of his kindergarten class? Hell no. If anything, Dad was lightyears ahead of the other non-Latino students because he could communicate in two languages. Now, all these years later, my dad is a huge proponent of ESL education within the main classroom. He knows first hand what a nightmare it is to be sent away to some dark corner of the school. Most of Dad's Caucasian classmates, however, (many of them his friends) are totally against having those kids in the classroom. If they'd been segregated as if they bore some hideous disease, they'd likely feel differently.

Secondly, where does G. Gordon Liddy get off calling Spanish "illegal alien?" As in, Maria is a polyglot who speaks English, German, Russian, Arabic, and illegal alien. What. The. Fuck. Because, apparently, all people who speak Spanish are illegal aliens? Um, sure. OK. Liddy. And don't even get me started on his sexist comments about Sotomayor.

Behold in all its bullshit misogynistic glory: "Let’s hope that the key conferences aren’t when she’s menstruating or something, or just before she’s going to menstruate. That would really be bad. Lord knows what we would get then."

What? WHAT?! Did he really just go there? Since when does the shedding of the lining of a woman's uterus have anything to do with becoming a Supreme Court Justice?

Finally, what kind of crazy fruit does Tom Tancredo feed through his Jack LaLanne juicer every morning? I mean, really, Tom? Really? The National Council of La Raza is "...a Latino KKK without the nooses or hoods." I can't even wrap my head around that one. So apparently every group that exists to further the civil rights of a specific, historically underrepresented and/or discriminated subset of people is racist? Like, oh, the NAACP? Do you think Tancredo would dare make that comment if we were talking about an African American woman? I'd like to think not, but he's obviously a bit slow so who knows.

Look. Yes, La Raza literally means "the race," but to most Spanish speakers of Central America and Mexico it's used more as a way to describe a community of people. I guess you have to understand where the term comes from to really understand the idea behind La Raza. In the twenties, Jose Vasconcelos* wrote an essay called "La Raza Cosmica" or "The Cosmic Race." Vasconcelos wasn't a huge fan of Darwinism since he viewed it as a way to explain and justify the subjugation of various non-white peoples. He believed that if you looked at what was happening in Mexico, at the continuing melding of European, indigenous Mexican, African, and Native American bloodlines, one could reasonably expect that in the future a new race, a blended race, a Cosmic race if you will, would arise.

Through this blending of culture, ethnicity, and race, Vasconcelos believed we, as humans, could transcend the ugliness of racism and prejudice. Mexicans, in particular, identified and accepted this idea. They adopted the term La Raza as a means of describing their shared heritage with pride and dignity. That's it. There's nothing sinister about it.

Are there a handful of folks in La Raza who likely talk big about taking down The Man and other ridiculousness? Probably. Every group has their fringe supremacist nutters. *Cough* David Duke. *Cough* Republican. *Cough* I try not to judge an entire group based on one or two batshit crazy folks though.

Anywho. I have to say the funniest--like fall out of my chair hilarious--thing I've seen during this entire brouhaha was a comment addressing Tancredo's likening of La Raza to the KKK.

"Just last week La Raza burned an Aztec Calendar** on my front lawn."


*I can't be bothered to get up and dig through my boxes of books still in the garage for the book containing the actual essay so I'm just giving a brief synopsis of what I remember after reading it a decade ago. I could be wrong. You'll have to Google if you're really interested.

**See when you go to an old skool panaderia to pick up a box of totally scrumptious pastries and cookies, they'll sometimes give you a promotional calendar. Without fail, these calendars always have these drop dead sexy half-naked Aztecs cradling buxom Latinas, shoulders bared and dresses fluttering in the wind, against their bronzed mantitties. George Lopez does a funny bit about his grandma and the Aztec calendar and her memories of a rather tawdry affair with a--well--never mind. That's a bit too risque for even this blog, lol.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009


Have you ever been skimming an article and a quote jumps out at you that's so OMGWTFBBQ you have to reread it again and again just to wrap your mind around it? Happened to me the other day, and I've yet to shake the quote from my thoughts. Behold the quote in all it's OMGWTFBBQ glory.

"I know people who have spent so much on pageants they lost their trailers."

Yeah. Process that for a second. If that quote doesn't encapsulate the what-the-fuckedness of little girl beauty pageants, I don't know what else possibly could.

Dave and I have been discussing the absolute hell-no's on our list of acceptable/unacceptable future activities Zaphod might undertake. At the top of that list are those ridiculous pageants where they dress up little girls like drag queens and parade them out in front of a panel of (usually) fat old man judges. Who in their right mind thinks it's okay to spray tan their five year old daughter, stuff a pair of fake teeth into her mouth, force her into baby-sized Spanx, and shellack her face with enough makeup to make a prostitute blush? And don't even get me started on the little booty and booby shaking dance moves meant to--what?--entice those old farts sitting on the judging panel. What kind of men sign up to judge these travesties? I'll give you a hint. The word starts with a "p" and ends with "edophile."

I became a little curious as to how parents justify tarting up their preschool-aged daughters and set out to investigate. Most parents seem to think they're teaching their daughters to be self-confident and poised. Right. Explain to me again how showing an extremely impressionable young girl that she needs to preen and fawn and dress like a hooker for awards is teaching her self-confidence.

I found some truly shocking articles and research papers. I was really surprised to find most participants fall into one of two categories: low income and undereducated. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how people in lower income brackets can afford $2000 pageant dresses, fake tans, makeup jobs and such. Then I read that quote about people losing their trailers. I guess it's all about priorities. Nice to know it's more important to teach a little girl to value her looks over, you know, something like fiscal responsibility.

Ay yay yay! Moms! Quit living vicariously through your four-year-olds!

Monday, May 25, 2009


So we hit 25 weeks today. I'm so much less nervous now that we've reached the stage of preemie viability. Since there hasn't been a single full-term birth on my side of the family in this generation of cousins, it was definitely a huge worry for me. The pregnancy has been incredibly normal and--shockingly--easy. Other than loose hips and some back problems because of that stupid disc I bulged/slipped a few years ago, I've had no complaints. I mean, I'm totally sad that I can't run anymore. I miss pounding pavement and sidewalks so badly. There's nothing like the high of finishing a 3.5 mile run when you're chubby! But my hips just can't take the beating anymore. I'm so wobbly I look like Elvis in the mornings!

Weight gain is finally creeping up on me. I think I've put on maybe 3 or so pounds. Most of it seems to be in my tatas and belly/baby weight. I've sort of been keeping an eye on my thighs. If they start getting all flabby huge then I know I'm packing on excess fat which is useless. If they stay normal, all the weight I'm gaining is good weight. My carb cravings are coming back and most days I just give into them. Unless I fail my GTT (sometime next week,) there's really no reason to restrict my carb intake while I'm pregnant. I mean, really, a handful of Oreos or a scoop of Fruity Pebbles while I write isn't going to kill me.

Tomorrow we head in for another ultrasound. They want to take a peek at Zaphod's heart again just to make sure everything's exactly as it should be. I'm not overly concerned but understand why my docs want to be cautious. With all the heart problems we've had in my family, you just never know. As of yet, there's no indication she has any issues whatsoever. Her heartbeat is incredibly strong. Actually, at my last visit, Dave and I both busted out laughing because Zaphod's heartbeat sounded like the "galloping horses" in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. And by galloping horses, I mean smacking coconut halves together.

Yeah. The staff at our OB/midwife's office think we're nuts, I'm sure.

Other than that, it's same old, same old around here. We're finally starting the nursery--and by starting, I mean I've finally chosen a paint color. My parents are buying our crib sometime in the next week or so which gives us a little time to get the room painted. Oh, and my sister and brother are getting us the travel system/stroller/carseat. Yayness! I'll be ordering my cloth diaper stash sometime this week too. For a procrastinator, I've done more than I'd expected in preparation for the baby's arrival. Shocking, actually...

Oh yeah! Zaphod likes music. I was bored last night and she was doing her yoga poses in my uterus (at least, that's what it feels like) so I thought, "Self! Let's see if Zaphod likes music." I slipped my headphones around Das Bump and scrolled through iTunes. Eventually I settled on the Superman Theme (Planet Krypton) by John Williams. She sort of stilled when the lone trumpet began. As the other brass instruments joined, she wiggled and squirmed. At the climax of the intro, she punched me right in the belly button and kicked my bladder.

I figured that was enough music time, lol.

Next time, I think I'll try Also Sprach Zarathrustra...

Thursday, May 21, 2009


So this morning while Dave was getting ready to head out to work he left the front door open while loading his bags (sleeping stuff, extra uniform, lunch box) into the truck. I was in that weird sleep space where you're sort of aware but mostly in a dream haze when all of a sudden I hear Bosley start barking. Dave started shouting, "No, Bosley! No!"

And then I heard what sounded like flapping wings.

Hmmm. Curious, no? So I rolled over in bed and listened to the circus unfolding downstairs. From what I could tell, Bosley was all worked up over some sort of winged invader while Dave was trying to coax said interloper out of the house. My first thought was a bat. Why? Because we have a shat load of bats in the woods behind our house. Like bajillions of them. I see their beady little eyes staring at me from the treetops at night. They sort of creep me out but they cut down on the West Nile carrying mosquitoes so they're cool in my book. We're actually about to put up a bat house on the back of the house to encourage them to hang around. Yeah. We're weird like that.

Anywho. When Dave came up to give me my early morning smooch before heading out the door he explained a bird had flown into the house. Bosley immediately decided the invader needed to be chased around the living room. The bird, apparently, refused to fly out of the open door so Dave had to scoop him up and launch him out of the house. Sadly this is par for the course around here. It's like we have a poltergeist with a wicked sense of humor.

The early morning excitement had Bosley all riled up so he spent half an hour honking his pheasant and running up and down the stairs while I tried to fall back asleep. Sweet of him, huh?

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Star Trek

OMG! You have to see Star Trek! It's amazing. The visual imagery is simply stunning and so believable. The CGI effects meld seamlessly with the live action shots. I really enjoyed the tight plot (necessary for someone who isn't a dedicated Trekkie) and the well-rounded characters. Oh, and the hot men in tight pants. Kirk/Spock sandwich, anyone?

But, seriously, what's with the ladies in mini-skirts and go-go boots? Really? How are you supposed to kick space ass and takes names when you have to worry about flashing your hoohoo with every roundhouse? Just a thought, Starfleet.

Oh yeah. We had to take Bosley in to have his kidney functions checked yesterday since he's on meloxicam for his funky hips. Let's just say he wasn't pleased with the muzzling or the huge needle they jabbed into his jugular vein. He's been milking it for all it's worth. No, really. We stopped by Petco for treats, and he kept eyeing the stuffed squeaky toy aisle. He had this "Hey! You let them stab me in my neck!" look so we caved and let him pick out a new pheasant with an annoying honker.

Right now, he's staring at my donut. He's doing the weepy eyes. I can almost hear his thoughts. "Jeez, my neck sure hurts where you let them STAB me!" Sigh. Looks like Mama's only having half a donut this morning...

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Natural Selection

So I'm something of a weenie when it comes to watching wildlife programs like Nature, National Geographic, and Planet Earth. I can't stand getting all attached to some cute little fuzzy baby that eventually gets chomped on by some big snarling brute of a predator. Well guess what? National Geographic played out on our porch yesterday, and I'm just devastated.

We have these birds who built a nest on our porch right after we finished building the house. Every year, they've come back to their nest to make new baby birdies. I love watching them fluff up the nest, guard the eggs, and feed the babies. Even Bosley enjoys watching them from the window. Yesterday morning, a little after five, there was a hellacious racket out front. By the time I got to the window, I couldn't see anything and the birds had quieted down. Bosley, however, continued growling. And that's when I spotted it--that fat ass Persian cat from across the street.

Yes, you can guess what happened next. Total effing massacre. One birdie was flattened on the sidewalk. The two other babies survived and hid in my flowers. Bosley kept barking at them in his high-pitched concern bark as if trying to tell them to get airborn before the cat returned. But, of course, they were too young. The mommy and daddy bird tried to protect them and get them to fly but it was no use.

This morning the mommy bird is nowhere to be seen. I'm convinced she's offed herself. Dave tells me birds don't get post-partum depression or grieve but I don't buy it. Even the daddy bird looked rather bereaved this morning when I went out to water my plants. So sad...

I'm all hormonal and anything baby-related turns on the water works so I wept like a little girl. I'm so angry at that filthy bastard cat. First it digs up my flower beds and craps in them. Now it killed my baby birds. I'm tempted to let Bosley loose on it the next time it scampers into my yard.

Monday, May 11, 2009


From the incredibly talented duo that brought us Dick in a Box comes the oh-so-wrong and yet ever-so-hilarious Mother's Day tune Motherlover. Huge beverage alert, folks. I've watched it six times and have tears dripping from my chin.

Happy Mother's Day!!!

Friday, May 08, 2009

Stay Classy Houston

Just when I think I can't be shocked by the incompetence of the justice system in this country, I read shit like this: Rape Victims Forced to Pay for Evidence.

Oh. My. God.

Yes, let's bill rape victims for their rape kits! Let's continue to victimize them by forcing them to relive those memories every time the phone rings or the mail arrives. I'm sure a rape victim is just going to love seeing that delinquent entry on her mortgage application, years after she's moved forward with her life.

What jackass thought this was a good idea? I mean, seriously, am I the only person wondering why the hell rape kits cost anything at all? Shouldn't a rape kit be billed automatically to the police or sheriff's department's evidence gathering department? Why are we billing women (and men) for the privilege (sarcasm) of such a humiliating and traumatizing experience?

Just reading this makes me so sad. And disgusted. WTF, Houston? WTF!

Wednesday, May 06, 2009

Peep Show

So my short story, Indecent, was chosen for the upcoming Peep Show: Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists anthology for Cleis Press edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel. Cleis Press publishes some of the naughtiest, wildest and most brilliant anthologies, novels, and nonfiction works of erotica and sexuality out there. I've been a huge fan of their Best series (Best Women's Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Gay Romance) and Ultimate Guide to series for quite a while now. I'm totally stoked to have a piece published by them.

As the release date nears, I'll post a bit more on this anthology. Until then take a look at the Peep Show blog for snippets from the book and more.