Christmas Shopping: Done (except WHAT do I get my father-in-law!!??)
Recipts: Filed
Office Secret Santa gift: Check
RSVP to Office “Holiday Reception”: Check
Recipe for Office “Holiday” Pot Luck: Forget it, I’ll bring Ice Cream and the Ice
Tolerate the “Retail Shopping Atmosphere” aka Christmas Musak: Fine. 

But, you can’t make me watch Pinocchio’s Christmas!
Also, it is currently TWO DEGREES ABOVE FREEZING where we will be spending Christmas this year.

Help me!

 I started this post in the heat of Swartzeneger’s grand plan to legalize all of the illegal immigrants in California. OOOOOh, this is a touchy subject in our home. We get huffy and puffy and mad just thinking about it. 

I got busy at work and the post was no longer timely when I got around to finishing it.

This week on the dink(y) show: Elizabeth gets political.

Ok, time to stick my toe into political waters for the fist time. Please don’t drown me, bite me, or organize a protest over this; but I’ve found me a soapbox to stand on!

Oh, and this happens to be my blog. Now hear this!

This is the Land Of Opportunity, or the Land Of Consumerism – depending who you ask. DH graduated from a computer program in Canada and discovered that there was not a sufficient local job market in his industry. He sent out resumes in the US and Canada, did some phone interviews, and was offered a job here in Southern Cal.

At the time the small company couldn’t afford to get him an H1-B (permanent employment) visa, so he jumped through immigration hoops and got himself a TN-1 (temporary work permit) visa. Every year since he moved here he has gathered the necessary immigration paperwork, flown home, and asked to come back in the US, just like a legal temporary immigrant is supposed to.

As a guest in this country, he has made it his business to know and US and Canadian immigration laws.

Before we got married, he hired an immigration lawyer to help with the process of legally remaining in this country as my spouse.

There has been hoop-jumping, there has been form-filing, there has been lawyer-calling, a

The point I was getting around to making was that DH was making it his business to go through the hoops for legal immigration. It is *hard work* but he was plowing through it.  His paperwork was on file, and he was waiting for Immigration to get around to proceess our request (there was a 3 month waiting period). Right after he filed, people took to the streets waving Mexican flags and insisting that they deserved to be granted legal status JUST BECAUSE THEY ARE HERE!

There was talk on the news about Uncle Arnie conceding to these demands and if that happened, all of the immigration requests for people who had bothered to *do the paperwork* would be put on hold so that a bunch of illegals could be legalized.

Fortunately, this is the land of DemBurocracy. The news cameras packed up, people took their (changing) flags home, and the Immigration office got back to doing what it does.

We got the conditional Green Card (which is not actually green), and will go back in two years to say “Yes we are *really* married. See, look, I’m pregnant.”

Paranoid delusion or tongue in cheek?

http://www.adcritic.com/interactive/assets/aclu-pizza/

Happy Birthday to me, or, Why I Don’t Blog About My Family.

Birthday cards from friends:

From all of us… we love you!

Happy Birthday… thank you for laughter and good times.

Happy Birthday… and many more to come.

(custom print autographed by the artist)… may the year bring you much joy, love and purpose.

Birthday cards from family:

Don’t open this card… you still don’t do what you’re told!

Ok, Drama Queen… it’s just another birthday.

DH has been getting headaches. All the time. Random, unprovoked, butt-kicking headaches. He’s tried all of the major over-the-counter aspirin/acetaminophen/migraine stuff. He’s tried new prescriptions for driving glasses, and computer glasses. A week ago, the doc suggested that it might be a sinus infection and to try penicillin. The antibiotics kinda-sorta helped, but not in a ‘the-hills-are-alive-with-the-sound-of-music’ kind of way.

Friday morning, he woke up kind of itchy. By Friday night, he asked me to meet him in urgent care because he was about to jump out of his skin. When I got there he was covered head to toe in bumps and was using his health insurance card to saw at his skin like a maniac scratch everything he could reach.

“Hon, you’ll give yourself an infection… Hon, you’re gonna make it worse… Hon, if you scratch it will just inflame and itch more… hon… hey… stop that… hey… HEY… hon… STOP SCRATCHING!!!! STOP SCRATCHING!!!”

It was a ninety-minute wait in urgent care, and just *watching him* was making ME itch!

By the time we got to see the doctor, I was barking at him to stop scratching while I was reaching every-which-way under my sweater.

The doc came in and laughed at both of us, checked DH out, and then offered to prescribe ME the anti-histamine/sedative so that I would be able to sleep through the night with all of his scratching. Apparently, DH’s body waited a week to send the message that he is now allergic to penicillin.

Last night DH crawled in bed with a healthy dose of steroids and happy pills. He went the whole night without moving a muscle or making a sound! Not a sigh, a snort, or even a mumble! He didn’t snore, not even ONCE! I had to check twice to make sure he was still breathing…

Today the itching was gone, but the headache was back. Doc said the next round of treatment would likely be CAT scans and migraine meds. I think tomorrow I’ll pick up a book on acupuncture for dummies!

Ha Ha Ha! Its his turn to wail: “Stop poking me!”

Thanks to the moron, my car has been in the shop since just after Christmas.

DH has been taking me to work. I’ve either bummed rides or taken the bus home for the last two weeks. Taking the bus isn’t for sissys! Apparantly, one needs to know NorthEast from NorthWest in order to find one’s bus stop. Who knew!? I have not completely mastered this skill, so I miss my transfers, have to make friends with strange people who seem to know where they’re going, bla bla bla…

I need to lose some weight. I’m tired, I’m stressed, a ton of stuff going on at work, so this morning was not the morning to start “dieting.” I made a deal with myself, as I was leaving the house at 6:30 a.m., that I would drink my water today. No dieting, no meal planning, no guilt… just drink my water. Baby steps, right?

6:30 a.m.: Chugged 16 ounces of chilled filtered tasty water, and ran out the door.
7:30 a.m.: Half a cup of Really Bad Coffee while waiting for my ride.
8:30 a.m.: Got set up for a conference at work and had another half cup of Really Bad Coffee.
9:00 a.m.: Last night we bought seventy 16 ounce bottles of clean tasty water for todays all-day conference. I can drink water when I’m bored, its just something to do… I’ll get my 6-8 glasses in with no problem.
2:30 p.m.: The conference was boring enough to require a total of 3 bottles of water.
3:30 p.m.: Got a ride with someone who insisted on buying me a soda, because he wanted to stop for one. Sugar and caffiene don’t really count toward “drink water” but: Smile, nod, accept the soda. I asked for an Anold Palmer.

He bought me a 44 oz Arnold Palmer.

I new better. I really did. I put off drinking it. I carried it back to my office, finished working, caught the bus. Had a sip. Changed busses, had a sip. Got bored, had a couple more sips.

Its an hour long bus ride. Half way into it, most of the Arnold Palmer was gone.

—-
30 minutes til my stop: Maybe there won’t be many people to pick up. I’ll make it home.

20 minutes til my stop: I’d get off and use the restroom in Starbucks, but then I’d have to wait an hour for the next bus to come by. I really wish this bus came more than every hour.

15 minutes til my stop: Ohh… that woman walks so slow! Hurry up and sit down so the bus can leave.

10 minutes til my stop: Hmm Hmm Hmm La La Laaaaa. Almost there, almost there, almost there.

5 minutes til my stop: Are we going by any markets where I could get off the bus and go? I could just walk the extra few blocks home! No, of course not! Cockamamie little town!
—-

By the time I got off the bus, I had a nice little plan to run home. Except that I was so full and so cramped, I could barely hobble. Suddenly, this was not a few blocks, but an endless marathon.

I considered backtracking and trying to find a business where I could use the restroom, but the crosswalk signal on this corner is soooooooooooooo slow!

Only one way to go: home.

Its amazing what options I considered while hobbling the last half-mile home.

I could knock on someone’s door: except its late, and I wouldn’t be able to keep the half-crazed look off my face when they answered. I’d probably freak them out.

I could sit down on the curb between two parked cars: except that I’d get arrested if I got caught.

Do I really care if I get arrested at this point? Well, maaaaybe.

I could find a bush, or a side yard, or even a trashcan… darn these endless manicured lawns!!

I wish I was a man; it’d be so much easier to be discrete about this!

Its dark, I’m wearing black pants, I could just pee and do laundry as soon as I get home. No one would know… but I just bought these shoes yesterday…

That house! There’s an ungardened spot in that yard!! I wouldn’t be wizzing on their lawn! But I’d get arrested…

Dark corner, side yard, Retaining wall to hide from one direction of traffic… There! I’ll make a run for it. Darn lights are on… Oh, wait! The lights are on in the BACK of that house! They’ll never see me in the front yard!

GOSH DARN YIPPING DOG!!!! SHUUUUSH! I’m gonna wring your… I’ll get caught.

An alley! PERFECT! It’s not too far!
UUUUUGH! Brake lights, someone’s backing their car out.

Shoot, wasted all those extra steps, now I gotta get back on the path toward home.
—-

At this point I had to pee so bad I grabbed my keys from my purse, just to have something to cling to. I was moving slower, my whole body was cramped, and …

Wouldn’t you like to know what happened? ;-).

Dear Moron,

I noticed that last night, you indulged in a great deal of recreational vandalism. While I admire the perseverance you displayed while trying to break into my car, I have a couple of suggestions to help you be more successful in your career of nonviolent crime:

I believe I am qualified to speak on this subject because I had to call the Auto Club to come and unlock my car FIVE times in the last 6 months. I’ve seen the professionals break into my car enough times that I could rig a tool and break into my car in ONE try, all by my girly self.

Three separate professionals who know all of the effective ways to break into a car have dubbed you a “Moron”. All three of the professionals who examined your handy-work have separately exclaimed “Moron! They didn’t even do it right!”

From the artistic reshaping you have done to the doors of my sedan, it is apparent that you made three separate attempts to get Bessy to uncross her legs. Its also apparent that you study under the criminal masterminds behind the UPN and FOX television networks. In real life, if you are targeting the make of car that I own, a crowbar and screw driver are not the tools of choice.

It appears that you were interested in gaining access to the cabin of my sedan. I’m not sure why you would do this, as the vehicle I own is by no means a Pimp-Mobile. I drive an economy car with low-technology gadgets like a single-disk stock cd player and a cassette deck. It would be much more worth your while to swipe a new, boxed, mid-range cd player from WalMart.

If you had taken the time to look in the window, you would have seen said cassette deck. As a matter of fact, there was nothing else in the car accept a bag of pinecones flocked with artificial snow. If its really that important to you, you can have the stinking bag of pinecones, but it would have been a lot less stressful for you to just walk down to the end of the block and pick some up off of the ground.

There appears to be a direct correlation between your timing, and the start of the retail holiday season. I understand that the sounds of the season are enough to make anyone want to pick up a crowbar. On my lunch break this afternoon; I was forced to endure the sound of Amy Grant screeching Jingle-Bell Rock. Believe me, I was looking for my crowbar too! I couldn’t find my crowbar, so I will spend the rest of the season shopping online from my home.

I would advise you to put your crowbar to better use next time. Instead of going after pinecones and cassette players, use the crowbar to poke a hole in the hood of a car. Open the hood and steal a radiator or a carburetor, or an alternator. The aftermarket price on these and other “ators” is much higher than the aftermarket price of pinecones flocked with artificial snow. Besides, I have 74,000 miles on my car, its probably time for me to buy a replacement for one of these “ators” anyway.

In addition to your Artwork d’ Crowbar, I want to thank you for the Artwork d’ Fingerprint that you left on both doors. I’m so glad that I happened to have my car washed the night before you visited: the only prints on my car are yours and mine. Your swirls and loops were beautiful and clear underneath the fingerprinting powder this morning. The cars you’ve broken into are a dime-a-dozen, I’m sure, but I’m so glad that I have one of your official autographed masterpieces on file at the local police department.

Sincerely,

ekd

More blog and comments after the jump:

Oh, my virgin eyes!

MiniMartha: “Have you heard of Myspace?”
Me: “No. What is it?”
MiniMartha: “Its like ICQ but you can leave messages when people aren’t signed on.”
Me: “Hmm. Ok. So?”
MiniMartha: “I keep hearing about it.”

So of course we have to go check it out. Sign up, create a profile, find your high school, blah blah blah. It seems a little more popular than Classmates so I start nosing around for a couple of people I graduated with. I started mindlessly following links, looking for a familiar face, only to be accosted by the waxed and airbrushed hmm-hmm of a girl who was in my 7th grade science class.

Two years ’til the high school reunion. Oh Boy! I just can’t wait!

Lesson 1: When you read the weather report, and it calls for “a few showers throughout the day,” the sky will be clear while you walk to lunch.

Lesson 2: When you read the weather report, and it calls for “a few showers throughout the day,” those showers will flood the city on the second half of your lunch break, right when its time to walk back to work.

Lesson 3: When you read the weather report, and it calls for “a few showers throughout the day,” the urge to wear the cute, new, suede clogs with furry lining that you *just* bought should be fought with all of your girly-might.

Lesson 4: When you read the weather report, and it calls for “a few showers throughout the day,” opt for the ugly black raincoat instead of the cute, fitted, powder blue fleece hoodie.
When will I ever learn?

Ideal mini-vacation: Take the car to the “car-spa,” sit on my rear in a cafe and read a magazine while someone else scrubs the lurp larva off of my car. $14 well spent.

In the magazine i found this: some marketing genius (or acid-tripping grandmother) has created an international tupperware art contest.

Too bad i’ve always been a knock-off shopper. Those Tupperwares would have come in handy!