Let me say, I love Bruce Willis. I’d watch him do anything, even change the oil in his car. I especially like him in things with a sense of humor. He smiles and I smile; he laughs and I laugh. He’s usually the star of my midnight fantasies, those not starring Nic Cage. Not that he’s bad at playing bad, mind you. Just, you know, mmmMMMmmm.

And I really like Kevin Smith. Maybe not so much his movies – yet I sort of watched some Jay and Silent Bob movie last night – but I never miss a SMODcast and I’d love to just hang out with the man. He’s damned explicitly funny. But this didn’t really feel like a Kevin Smith movie. Maybe because I just get sucked into anything Bruce Willis does, I dunno.

Anyway, I laughed my ass off at this movie. Tracy Morgan almost was too much for me. I’m a little old for slapstick overboard stupid comedy, but he pulled it back just enough when the story needed to be more serious. Just when I would get bored with his antics, the scene would change. Nice editing, Kevin. But overall the movie was funny as hell. Go for a good time.

The only problem I had with this movie was the casting of Poh Boy. Usually when there’s a bad guy, especially when he’s supposed to be the leader attempting to take over x-amount of someone else’s territory, he looks the part. This guy didn’t look the part. He wasn’t the least bit scary to me, a middle-aged chunky midwestern Mom. He put out a flunky vibe in a part that should have called for a more intimidating character. Much darker instead of what we got. I half expected his peons to roll their eyes behind his back. But the baseball torture cage was inventive!

Should I start using some sort of judging thing? Stars… nah, too bland. Hmmm, how about a four FuckYeah! rating?

They’ve replaced my open and shut purple disc (bottom) with the three dispensers at the top. It took me a half an hour last night to figure out how to use all these stupid things.

The light blue one is used twice a day. You take the cover off, twist it open, insert a capsule from the blister pack, close it up, squeeze both sides to puncture the capsule and then inhale. Then you open it back up to dump out the empty capsule.

Then the short grey one has about the same number of steps. That’s twice a day, too.

Then the pink one thankfully comes pre-loaded, but I have to remember to only do this one once a day but inhale it twice in a row.

And this is on top of the pills I have to take!

I try to schedule my meds for around 10 in the morning and at night to work around the eating/not eating requirements. When I’m out, I can slip that little purple disc and a small pill holder in my purse and voila! Quick click and inhale and I’m done. WTF am I going to do now? I’m out almost every night until well past midnight! This shit is going to put a serious cramp in my social activities. I can’t carry all this out with me!

“Excuse me loverboy whilst I take 20 minutes to fondle and suck on all these stupid inhalers before I work on you?” (That’s assuming I ever bring a loverboy home again.) Oh yeah, that’s sexy as hell.

Fuck asthma.

Meet other parents who are supporters of Breastfeeding, Gentle Discipline, Child Led Weaning, Cloth diapering, Homeschooling, Babywearing, or Co-sleeping all are welcome here.We will have meet ups in Mesa, Chandler, Tempe, Phoenix, and Scottsdale. We ask that you always be respectful of the way that others parent.

Reason you have to put that disclaimer in your description? Because experienced parents know how stupid you all are! The title of the group should be How To Get Your Kid Beat Up and subtitled  Or How To Raise A Columbine Killer!

What the fuck is babywearing?

I’ve been around parents who gently discipline. Those are the kids that are plowing over your kid in the play area or taking his stuff. The “Mummy” gently and in a baby voice says shit like, “no no darling, mummy asked you nicely to stop doing that. Do you want to have to do a time-out? Hmmm?” about 12 times instead of snatching their little brat up and giving him what for.

*sigh* I suppose it’s better than so-called parents who don’t do anything at all but yell at their spawn like they’re dogs.

How to be a good parent? Pay attention! That’s it. Pay attention. Be in the moment with your kid as often as possible, but also teach them that they aren’t the center of the universe. Do what you have to do – which teaches them there’s a time and place and right now you have to do the dishes or make dinner or make this business call, but when that’s done – focus on the kid for an equal amount of time! That’s all they want. Intermittent amounts of undivided attention. They want to know when they need you you’ll be there. Kids are whiny because they know you’re not really paying attention. They whine so you’ll hear them when you come out of your fog.

My disclaimer: My kids were great kids. Polite and well-behaved in public, fun on the playground, popular in school, happy well-adjusted little people. I’ve no idea what happened when they hit late teens and had all that trouble. I wish I had insight into that. Maybe raising non-wussies meant they weren’t afraid to try things they really shouldn’t have tried. But they’re doing well now. One is a single-parent raising a daughter of his own, another just discharged from the Army after two tours in Iraq and the third just moved out on her own.

Not that it matters to me either way.  Whatever floats your boat you know.

It’s just that… I have a wild fantasy life… I often (more often than I probably should) make up entire scenarios about various men I know or see or pass on the street. That’s a lot of energy to waste on the few that will never follow through… not that any will ever follow through but a girl has to dream, right?

I mean, men will never know what’s going on in my head. I don’t act like I’ve set up an elaborate fantasy involving him and I in wild animalesque ballets of sex…

unless you’re reading this now

in which case I don’t mean YOU! It’s that other guy… or maybe it was you. Whatever.

The point is, even though nobody will ever know who I fantasize about, I’m still embarrassed when I find out he’s gay. Even though it’s all in my head, I feel like I’ve just been slapped and not in a good way.

There was a really attractive gentleman that came to #evfn last night. Completely out of my league – which makes him prime fodder for starring in my latest mental pornplay – and I actually asked our mutual friend if the fella was married or gay just so I wouldn’t waste my energy on him. Mental energy that is, because there certainly hasn’t been anyone my own age returning any interest in actual playing around.

Maybe I should write some of these out?

Monday night was a really great night. I went with Ladawn to Yucca Tap Room for open mic night and we had a really good time. I swear Ladawn is my lucky charm. Every time I go out with her I end up getting laid. Tuesday night we recorded Evo at 11. But Wednesday night was THE CONCERT EVENT OF MY LIFE! Really, the last concert I went to was George Michael back in Florida years and years ago.

Hmmm, went to Sheila’s work and we went from there to the Yard House right next to the arena. About 4:30. To drink. Oden and Rachel showed up and around 6:45 in we went. We I was not impressed by the opening band Dashboard Confessional. I didn’t recognize any songs.

Then Bon Jovi started up and I loved it. The band was great, the music was great, the energy was great, but the fat-ass big-haired bitch in front of me was NOT great.

CONCERT ETIQUETTE: IF EVERYONE AROUND YOU STANDS UP TO ROCK THE HOUSE, IT’S OKAY TO STAND UP AND ROCK THE HOUSE. BUT IF EVERYONE AROUND YOU (AND ESPECIALLY BEHIND YOUR FAT ASS) SITS DOWN TO ENJOY THE CONCERT, SIT YOUR ASS DOWN!

Just sayin. I know you paid good money for a seat and so did I.

So anyway, good concert even though I had to watch most of the concert on the jumbotrons. Lots of middle-aged women with big hair, boots and plenty of make-up. Too many screaming women like any of them stood a chance. Fanatics both amuse me and creep me out.

Fun week and tonight is #evfn back at Whole Foods in a couple of hours.

So I responded in some off-hand smart-ass way way about being smart enough to not put your home address on the internet… whatever.

This is his response:

Well Debbie… I don’t care what you think… You are obviously an unemployed ren-fair attendee. Not at all a model of responsible behavior. The picture of you in a corset is also a strong indicator of your lack of ability to determine responsible disclosure levels. This sort of disclosure is counter productive… and can result in your being banned from various more productive and lucrative circles.

So… I’m confused. Why exactly did this person want to be my Facebook friend in the first place? I didn’t go looking for him, I don’t think I even know who he is. One of those people I accepted because he was friends with a  number of other friends so… sure why not click accept.

Personally I don’t friend people I don’t really want to friend. If I went looking for you and asked to be your friend it’s either because we’ve met and I like you, or my friends have talked enough about you to make me want to get to know you. Why did you come looking for me?

For the record dude, I’m not unemployed – I’m disabled. And I haven’t been to the ren-faire in years. Those costume shots are either from a Halloween party or Dragon*Con. Places I’ve had actual, you know, life experiences worth celebrating with pictures. So go fuck the high horse you’re sitting on.

Geeze some people are just wound up way too tight.

The world turns and now there’s this new fake label. Married men who cat around on the side suddenly have this new diagnosis to call on. They can’t help themselves! They have a sex addiction! Instead of taking responsibility for their actions, they do this OH POOR ME bullshit. Kobe, Duchovny, Charlie Sheen – the sex addiction diagnosis excuse was made for rich fuckers to let them off the hook.

I didn’t really care about Tiger’s infidelities. That’s between him and his wife. Okay, the shear amount of women might be gossip-worthy but it was never a News story. I figure eventually Tiger’s sex life will be a joke and his golf career will be back on track. Maybe his endorsements will suffer which in my mind is wrong. I’m tired of people dictating what other people’s morals should be but that’s not the focus of this post.

What impressed me most, and makes me believe that he should be… excused… not really the word I want but it’ll do for now – is his apology. He takes responsibility for his behavior. He never once mentions being out of control or not being able to reign himself in. He felt entitled – which is understandable considering his life. Hopefully it’s all sincere. Hopefully for his wife they can come to an understanding for their children. I certainly wouldn’t take him back, but that’s me.

And I really liked his chiding the paparazzi about harassing his family. I completely agree with him. Any photographer who chases a child should die a painful death. Any stupid person who gives money to those who pay the paparazzi should lose all their belongings to a freak tornado.

Seriously, why is the sex life of someone you’re not married/committed to so important to other people?

It’s all about choice. The spouse has no choice, the child has no choice, but if someone chooses to plow the field they should accept responsibility for what comes up and that should stay between him/her and the people who they betray.

But if you’re not in a relationship, if there is nobody to betray – whats wrong with having sex with as many people as you want? So what?

Years ago I went through the Social Security Disability process and ended up needing a lawyer. Actually most people are denied the first time through so it’s not so unusual. We met once with a lower-level associate or whatever, but didn’t meet the actual lawyer until like 2 minutes before we walked into the courtroom. Then I was thrown off by the fact that my lawyer was cross-eyed and it made me distracted and stumble in front of the judge. Now, Mr. Ober did a great job and was completely professional and I’d recommend his law office to anyone.  And had the associate mentioned it beforehand I would have taken it in stride.

If you work for or socialize with someone with an unusual physical difference do you mention it off-hand to people who are going to meet them? Like, “Dave has decided to tattoo his forehead, but besides that he’s an excellent Dentist.” Or, “my husband was disfigured by a fire as a small child, and he’s joining us for lunch.” (That last one was true too, someone I used to work with. Great guy, but it took a few meetings to see him behind his disfigured face, though I never got past the missing fingers.) “Mr. McClusky has a severe stutter so just hang in there and he’ll make his point eventually.”  “Debbie is butt-ugly but she’s got a great personality if you enjoy pessimistic snark.”

If one has manners one doesn’t pay any attention at all to differences. But it’s hardly fair to throw someone in unprepared isn’t it? Shouldn’t you say something in a not a big deal, matter of fact, this is coming up kind of way? I wouldn’t want the unusual person to be made uncomfortable either. It’s tough enough dealing with your differences without people reacting out of surprise.

Friday night was the usual #evfn, except E and Sheila weren’t there and neither was the guy they had organizing it in their absence. So of course I take up the slack and try to make sure everyone is taken care of and the newbies are introduced around. I don’t think I did a very good job as certain people walked out. Oh well, there’s always next week.

Kira and I hung out Saturday night and this morning we wandered over to a new (for us) McDonald’s, shopped at WalMart and took the light rail to downtown Tempe (yes, I live here but I’d promised Kira we’d take the train one day) to check out #comiccreate.

And tonight I get a following notification on FourSquare (a social geolocation application) for Earl Newton! Now I’ve met the man at D*C a couple of times, and maybe he would friend me on twitter where you’re getting occasional light-hearted updates/comments from people. And maybe on Facebook which is pretty much the same thing. Likely because of my connection to Evo and less on my own merit I think. Twitter/Myspace/Facebook are places you “friend” anyone you’ve ever met and then some. But wouldn’t you only follow people on a location-based application that you might, maybe, kind of EVER thought you’d actually want to know where they are? Earl Motherfucking Newton wants to know where I am? That’s soooo fucking cool. I feel like somebody now.

And Earl? If you’re a googling fool and come across this post, please don’t explain or get freaked out or delete me or anything. This is me after a couple of drinks – FREAKING THE FUCK OUT because someone of your caliber clicked on me as a connection somewhere, that’s all. Let me have this. Carry on and I’ll never bother you again.

Oh yeah, I got paid for work I did! Actual money instead of possibilities.

What a great weekend.

And here’s a link to the 15-second other one where the guy is riding backwards. I hadn’t seen that one before but I’m not as impressed.

Full disclosure, I don’t really care for the smell of Old Spice (asthma issues) but I completely agree with the man-should-smell-like-MEN point they’re making.