Boys and their animal instincts

What is it about children that makes them want to jump all over people, me in particular?  I am sitting on the couch, minding my own business when out of nowhere my six-year-old son decides to pounce on me.  Not only pounce like a cheetah, or a lion or pick your own animal but start climbing all over me.  Why?  Is it a boy thing or do girls do the same thing?

Is this where boys start, with their Mothers and then it continues into adulthood with them pouncing on every living and breathing female they see?  If it’s a purely a subconscious male behavior that starts out in their very early years, I guess I understand it.  Sort of.  But do they have to be so physical and rough?  If I didn’t move fast enough, I am pretty sure I’d have a bloody nose right about now.  And when I try to reason with him about being gentle with girls and ladies of all ages, he tells me he can’t help it because he loves me so much he just can’t control his body.  Crap, it’s starting early.

Can you imagine a man leaping at some woman in a bar, his only explanation that he is so enamored with her that he can’t help but give into his animalistic instincts?  I can imagine it going extremely well…

On the other hand, my eleven-year-old never behaved that way.  He did and still to this day loves to cuddle up next to me on the couch watching a movie.  Yes, sometimes he forgets that he weighs about ninety bounds and is made of pure bones and muscle.  There isn’t a single ounce of fat on that kid, and considering I don’t weigh that much more than him at about five feet nothing, it certainly hurts when he lies down on me.  I cringe with pain, but pretend it doesn’t hurt only to keep him next to me because I know he is turning twelve in a couple of months, and am certain his desire to lay next to his Mother will end the same exact day!  At least he doesn’t use me as his own personal jungle gym like his brother…  I am hoping his instincts, and everything I’ve drilled into him for the past six years will keep him from climbing over some pretty girl at school.  I can only imagine his reasons for doing it: “But my Mom let’s me doing to her ALL the time, and she doesn’t complain!”

Oh Jared Leto, how little I knew about your band…

What started out as a surprise of a lifetime, quickly turned into a XXX porn show for many children and one particular fifth-grader.

I like to think that I am a pretty fun parent, but when my husband and I surprised our eleven-year-old with tickets to Thirty Seconds to Mars concert, my ‘cool factor’ went through the roof!  Yes, I measure my coolness by the lack of booing in my home when I occasionally do something that is viewed as fun by my dear, spoiled children.  Considering this was the first “real” concert that my son would be going to, it was a big deal.  Sure he’s gone to other concerts before, he is a veteran concert goer!  We took him to a Blue’s Clues concert when he was just three years old, and the Wiggles concert when he was five, and who could forget the Doodlebops concert!  Now that’s what you call ‘Quality Entertainment’.

I don’t remember much of the Blue’s Clues concert, probably because my girlfriend and I were indulging in our brand new flasks that were purchased specifically for this event, at our local Target of course, right before the show.  I believe most parents in the audience were seen sipping through some sort of portable drinking devices…

Unfortunately, the Wiggles concert I did not attend.  If I remember correctly, the night before I suddenly came down with an unknown-to-man stomach bug and was unable to join the family for this joyous activity.  As my husband later described the torturous two hours of his life, all I could do is remind him that if I had to sit through two hours of Blue’s Clues, the least he could do was pretend to enjoy the Wiggles!  After all, the Wiggles sang songs and danced around, all Blue ever did was make incoherent noises and make Steve look like an idiot for guessing what the hell that dog was trying to say.  Did you ever notice Blue roll her eyes at him every time he guessed wrong?  You didn’t?  Well, I did.  I clearly remember suggesting the flask to him, but being a non-drinker at children’s events, my husband decided to do it sober.  Bad idea.

What about the Doodlebops, you ask?  Well…  I really didn’t want to go there, particularly because we had amazing seats that were FREE!  If this was a Rock concert I could reach out and touch the performers, but seeing that this was a Doodlebops concert I had to refrain myself from reaching up and tearing the ugly, pink wig off the girl and throwing it at her.  Towards the end of the show, they asked some of the more “outgoing” kids to come up on stage, which I took as a direct invite for me to run up there, however as I tried to get out of my seat I realized that something was holding me down.  I kept getting pulled back into the chair, over and over and over again.  Having drank a liter of rum and Coke during the show, it took me a few minutes to figure out that my husband had his hand wrapped around my shirt therefore preventing me from getting up.  I still don’t understand how he can predict my every move, minutes before I actually decide to make the move!

Let’s go back to Thirty Seconds to Mars.  I realize that I should have researched this band a bit more thoroughly, and more importantly Jared Leto before purchasing tickets.  Neither myself or my husband knew that the guy just released a new video called “Hurricane”, which they decided to show at the beginning of their performance.  This is the part where you stop reading, pull up a new window and look up Hurricane on  Yes, I said youporn, not youtube because that’s where you will find it.  Did you see it?  Good.

As the giant screen went from black to Dominatrix, all I could do was shove my son’s face into my chest as fast as my instincts allowed.  After which I heard an “Ew” and a “Ouch”, but I made him stay in that position for the next fifteen minutes as graphic S & M scenes displayed on the screen.  The only thing missing was the moaning and groaning, which was replaced by Leto’s character in the video trying to sing while performing.  And when I say ‘performing’, I am talking about him trying to have sex with what i can only describe as a Mythical creature who transforms into a woman, man, animal, you name it…  I was about to write that I think my son learned a few things that night, but truthfully I think I learned a few things myself.  For instance, when you rescue a girl from her pimp while she is dressed as a cat in an S & M costume, make sure you let her know how grateful she should be by having sex with her right after.  That’ll teach her to go around whoring herself out!  I don’t know if you can tell, but that’s the only thing I got out of that video, even though I am sure there is some kind of a deeper and darker explanation.  If you figure it out, do me a huge favor and post a comment telling me what it is!

When the band finally came on at around 10 o’clock, they were great!  They could have been even greater if Leto would stop talking and do some actual singing.  Who does he think he is, a Comedian?  When I come to a music concert, I want to hear music.  Not some 39-year-old, ex-Levi’s jeans model talking the whole time.  In the amount of time he spent wasting by getting the crowd jumping and screaming for no other reason than him ripping his shirt off, he could have performed at least three more songs.  And then the genius decided to start ‘walking’ on people in the crowd, yes I said walking.  And what do you know?  The half drunk, half stoned teenagers dropped his skinny ass!  I swear that was the best part of the concert, I was laughing so hard that the overweight 40-year-old Mother of three sitting next to me looked like she was about to beat my ass.  Not to mention my son who leaned over and asked if Jared was going to get trampled by all the people.  My response: “I hope so!”  That didn’t go over too well with him.

And where was my husband this whole time, you ask?  He was sitting down while everyone else was standing, checking his email, along with plotting the best escape route out of Gibson theater on his Blackberry navigation system.  I am not even making a joke here, dead honest truth.  I am pretty sure the only time he was fully awake was during the porn video, and the only reason I know that for a fact is because he made several comments about it on the way home.  Ask him about the actual concert.  I bet every single one of you that’s reading this $20 he has no clue if they were a rock, pop or rap group!  Alright maybe he knows, but the rest maybe a bit blurry.

I am not saying that the concert was bad, not at all.  It was a great concert.  And think of all new experiences that my son learned about: the mask wearing Dominatrix that looked like half bug/half woman, all new smells in the air and why he should selectively hold his breath at various moments, the list goes on and on…  Its priceless!

So, I would like to thank Jared Leto and his band for giving me the most uncomfortable fifteen minutes of my life!  Never in my whole adult life did I think I’d be watching porn with my fifth-grader, but overall a great show from someone who has tried it all, acting, modeling, directing and now singing!  All of a sudden a Wiggles concert sounds so appealing…  Stay tuned.


The ladies of The View and Hasselbeck

Is it just me or is the show, ‘The View’ going down the hill?  The last couple of years it seems that the show has gotten a lot more hostile than in the past…  They have great guests on the show, and their topics are pretty relevant but its the hosts that bug me the most.  Not all of them, mainly the blond, bitter, and very angry 70-year-old woman trapped in the body of Elizabeth Hasselbeck.

How could a 33-year old person be filled with so much anger, resentment and bitterness?  Every time, I tune in to the show and listen to her speak I can’t help but want to scream at her: “Chill out, loosen up, take a breath, relax woman.”  She is constantly arguing, yelling and trying to prove her point.  Granted there are three or four other women to compete for air time with, but come on!  Every single conversation, every topic becomes a yelling match with her.  It’s like she is trying to over-compensate for her young age or something.

Hasselbeck has to always be right, with every single topic.  Does she ever listen?  Sure, she seems to sit there and pretend to listen while the others are speaking but the whole time you hear her trying to get a word in.  How can a young person be so radically Republican and a conservative?  Aren’t most young people just want peace, love and equality?  How badly was she damaged during her childhood that she has to turn so conservative?  I really would love to try and have a conversation with her, I doubt it would be anything more than a monologue though…  Who hired her to be on the View anyway?

She really needs to pull that stick out of her butt, take a Xanax and try having sex once in a while.  It will do her body good, not to mention put that anger into a coma for a little while.  Again, just my opinion…

My Interview with Department of Homeland Security

Years ago, I had applied for a position with the Department of Homeland Security.  Why would I apply for a position with the Homeland Security?  Who knows…  Remember my post about my ADD, and pins in my ass?  Well, that’s why.  This was right after 9/11, and they just formed this new Department.  Homeland Security was looking for people that spoke fluent Russian, to interview potential immigrants that are trying to come to the U.S.  My family and I had to go through that interview process when we immigrated here.  So, when my oldest son started school I decided to go back to work.  The position they advertised looked very lucrative.  Pretty good starting salary, full government benefits and all I had to do was sit on my butt all day, and talk with people.  If you know me, you understand how I could not turn that down!

I filled out an online questionnaire that only took six hours to complete, faxed over all the necessary documents, and sat back and waited.  And waited, and waited.  When I received a letter in the mail six month later, I seriously thought that someone was playing a joke on me, and purposely applied me for a position with DHS.  I completely forgot about it.

The letter asked me to come down to San Diego for a written test, and then wait some more.  A full year and eight months of my second pregnancy later, I received another letter telling me that I had passed the written test with 96%, and now they were scheduling me for a physical exam to make sure I was in good mental and physical shape.   I was so excited, yet confused about why I needed to be in a good physical health to sit at a desk all day?!?!  How was I going to hide my 8-month pregnant belly…  Not to mention, how was I going to do at least 10 sit-ups, run up and down the stairs, and do at least 10 jumping jacks?  To a normal person, reading that letter would have set off some kind of a red flag in their head.  Not to me.  I was as excited as President Clinton upon learning that Jewish girls were allowed in the White House!

Thankfully for me, this is the government we are talking about, they weren’t booking the exam for another three month.  That gave me time to have the kid, pass him off to Mom, get rid of all the baby weight, get into a body-builder shape, and all in two whole months.  I really thought I could do it.  Hell, if Kate Hudson and Angelina Jolie can do it, I can do it.  And they were losing weight for a much greater good that serving their country, they were doing it for the love of film and nude scenes.

I show up to a Medical office for my physical exam feeling pretty confident.  I am instructed to change into my “work-out clothes”.  I really didn’t want to explain to the nurse that my “work-out clothes” don’t include a sports bra and shorts, but rather a bed with some nice 600-thread sheets on it, but I did it anyway.

First, I did the drug test which didn’t worry me at all.  Being a mom to a 5-year-old and a newborn doesn’t leave much time for recreational drugs, unless you count alcohol as one.  Next they had me do a full physical with a 300-lb woman who I am pretty sure was enjoying it a lot more than I was…  When it came time for a physical endurance test, I was sent to another room that had a small step ladder, a chair and a mat in it.  I knew I was in trouble when the amazon woman pulled out pages of what I was supposed to complete.  At first, I had to do ten push-ups, while she sat on my feet.  I tried to explain to her that I had just had a baby about two months before, and wasn’t sure if I could even do one push-up.  Whatever stomach muscles I had pre-pregnancy were long gone!  She pretended not to hear me, and repeated the order.  See, most sane people would have told her to go where the sun don’t shine, and run out of there.  But since I am far from sane, I kept taking her orders while trying not to cry.  I managed to do one push-up, at which point I was very proud of myself.  The amazon woman just gave me a glance, and told me to get myself up off the mat and start doing jumping jacks.

By the time I was done, I felt like I was hit by a truck, and I am pretty sure I passed out for a bit there too.  At the end, they handed me a small packet containing my results, and told me NOT to open it until I get a letter in the mail stating that I can open it.  As soon as I got in my car, I opened it.  It stated that I basically failed every single physical test, and they do not recommend me for the position I applied for.  As I sat there pondering, again what the hell my physical strength has to do with doing a desk job, I realized that some idiot at Homeland Security probably got my paperwork switched with another applicant.  Since it is absolutely impossible to get through to any government agencies by phone, I had no choice but to sit and wait for another letter.

That letter finally came three months after the physical exam, and this time it stated that I was moving on to an actual Human to Human interview.  This in-person interview was going to be held at the FBI offices in San Diego, since the position would be out of that office.  Wait a minute, I applied for the Orange County offices position.  How the hell was I going to get to San Diego every day?  Not wanting to pass up an opportunity to work for the government, and having gone this far already I couldn’t just let this go by, I had to go to the interview!  Once there, I thought I would simply explain the situation, tell them that something got mixed up along the way, and we would all have a big laugh about it while they offer me the greatest job ever.

I show up at the FBI offices in San Diego wearing my brand new Ann Taylor suit, happy as a clam!  As I looked around the room, I had a strange feeling that I was in the wrong place.  All other applicants were either dressed in CHP uniforms, police uniforms or a combination between a policewoman, a hooker and a cross-dresser.  The green eye shadow really gave it away.  I felt completely out of place, especially because they were looking me up and down like I was their prey.  They were trying to figure out what position I had applied for and why…

Once I was called inside, I was standing in front of a very long conference table.  In my whole life, I have never seen a table that long, and I am pretty sure it was there for one reason: Intimidation.  There were only three people at the table, why else would they need such a long table besides to intimidate the interviewees?  There was a very large gentleman wearing a California Highway Patrol uniform, why the hell was he there?  Next to him there was an even larger gentleman wearing a Military uniform, and lastly a tiny bald man in civilian clothes.  Nothing more intimidating to a five-foot-nothing girl than to be interviewed by giant men in uniform, except for the bald guy.  He didn’t scare me.

Baldy started the interview by telling me that they will each read one question for me to answer.  They were very random questions, such as my work ethic and if I would ever leave an Officer behind if they were hurt.  I really didn’t understand how it had any relation to the position that I applied for, and being too scared to ask any questions of my own, I just kept answering what I thought they wanted to hear.  “No, Sir I would never leave an Officer behind!”  What Officer, what the hell is he talking about?  Where and why would I need to leave an Officer behind?  Like during lunch, at Chili’s?  You would think at this point I would just walk out, but I didn’t.  I guess I really wanted to see where this would go…

The last question they asked me was: “I’m going to paint a scenario for you: Its dark, the middle of the night.  You are all alone at the border of U.S. and Mexico.  Your life may be in danger, and you have no way of calling for back-up.  Do you still take the job?”  I stared at them with a black look on my face, trying to figure out if this was a joke.  I started to say something in the nature of: “I think I may be interviewing for the wrong position here…”  The giant in the Military uniform cut me off saying: “Would you like me to repeat the question?”  They were not going to take “NO” for an answer.  I wanted to yell out: You can repeat the question all you want, buddy.  The answer is still going to be NO!  But instead, I mumbled something, I can’t even remember what.  They told me that was the end of the interview, and I need to wait out in the hall for their decision.  As I stood in the hall for what seemed like an eternity, I kept going over what just happened inside the conference room.  I was baffled, scared and pretty sure that I had peed in my pants a little.  For a tough chick like me, this sure seemed over the top.

Why the hell I kept waiting out in the hall is beyond me.  What comforted me was the fact that they would come out and tell me its a “Hello NO!”, and in a way I was relieved, since it was obvious I was interviewing for the wrong job!  Well, it was obvious to me, but what happened next was an apparent lack of common sense in our government!

They finally let me back in, but this time don’t even ask me to sit down what I thought was a bit rude, but who am I to argue with the Federal Government.  Without any hesitation, all three looking at me they announce that I got the job of Border Patrol Officer! What?  Me?  A hundred and ten pound, five foot nothing, Ann Taylor suit wearing, never go camping or having desire to, afraid of the ocean, 5-star hotel minimum, never seen or touched a real gun in person, getting lost in a city I’ve lived in for twenty years, forgetting which way to turn when getting off the freeway ramp while going home, taking two showers minimum daily, wearing make-up to the gym, sanitizing every public toilet before using it only not to ever sit on it, hypochondriac with irritable bowl syndrome?  You want me to do what?  Stand and guard our borders with Mexico, day or night with a weapon?  I am pretty sure I said something along the lines of: But there will be a nice, private toilet near-by, right?

Don’t you feel extremely comforted knowing our government is sending tiny, inadequate, young, Russian-born, Jewish mothers to guard our borders against human traffickers, drug smugglers, and anyone else wanting to get into this country?