My Brain Is Freaking Me Out Again

I have a cold. Actually, I'm at the end of the cold, the part where you have a ton of congestion. For all the creationists out there that assert something cannot come from nothing, my sinuses are disproving that right now. Seriously, where does all the mucus come from? And why can't I run out?

Anyway, I'm a little freaked out by my brain right now. Apparently, my brain, or at least the part that I don't control, is completely unaware I can breathe through my mouth. 35 years out of the womb and my brain still doesn't know this.

Which it made abundantly clear by switching me to nose breathing as soon as I fell asleep, depriving me of oxygen until I woke up gasping for air.

I am not kidding you, this is what happened last night:

My brain: So, the nose is all clogged up. Can't breathe out of that. Hmmm . . . is there some other way of getting oxygen to the lungs? Something else I can breathe through? Nope, guess we'll just have to suffocate.

Me: The mouth! I went to sleep breathing through my mouth! Just go with that!

My brain: I have no knowledge of this "mouth" of which you speak.

Me: Look! I'm breathing through it right now!

My brain: I can't heeeeaaaar you.

Me: Fuck you.

My brain: Try going to sleep again. I dare you.

So, yeah, that was my weekend.

The Invisible Hand Is Amazingly Stupid

Musings of Avast! Right Winger* is all upset that we don't know where General Gordon's horse's grave is. Apparently, celebrating the Civil War is much more popular in the South than it is in the North . . . except for Pennsylvania, which isn't mentioned once in the post. Do you know why? Because Gettysburg** is in Pennsylvania, and there is no Civil War site more visited. Every person in Pennsylvania has been there. All school children in Pennsylvania make the trek at least once. All of which makes it a little odd that a piece of the coat Lincoln was wearing when he died is mentioned- pieces of coats are unsurprisingly unpopular- but the site of Lincoln's most famous speech is not. Hmmm.

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I am alarmed when people think successful business owners would necessarily make great mayors, governors and presidents. Seriously alarmed. Why? Because what makes you great at business isn't anything you want unleashed on a country.

For example, the IT guys had been telling my boss forever to buy actual surge protectors and UPSs instead of those "surge protector" strips. Those things do nothing. My husband's studio has over $500 worth of surge protection, including a power conditioner. (I guess it makes the electricity soft and frizz free.) But no, meanboss don't spend no money, bichez.

Then we got a windstorm with 50mph winds. The power line was torn off the building and the resultant surge fried every computer that was on: our server and the billing computers doing backups. Oh, yes, we're screwed. You think he's the only business owner that pulls that shit? Think again. Business owners are all about the right now, what's making me money now, what's saving me money now. Next quarter, next year, next decade doesn't mean shit to them. Why do you think we're in the infrastructure mess we're in right now, anyway?

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All mothers are women, but not all women are mothers.

I can't have children because it would likely kill me (why, yes, restrictions on abortion do make me nervous, why do you ask?), but I had decided not to be a mother long before I knew that. You know why? Because I know I wouldn't be a good mother. I simply don't have the patience or the boundless affection necessary to be a good mother***. I have the patience and affection necessary to be a good dog owner, so I do that instead.

Does this make me a bad person? I don't think so. I think what would make me a bad person is knowing that I don't have what it takes to be a good mother but doing it anyway.

There is a myth that simply have two X chromosomes automatically qualifies one to be a good mother, and that bad mothers are aberrations, crazy people and very, very rare. Yeah, not so much.

But mothers kill their children in this country much more often than most people would realize by simply reading the headlines; by conservative estimates it happens every few days, at least 100 times a year. Experts say more mothers than fathers kill their children under 5 years of age.

At least 100 times a year isn't an aberration, nor were every single one of those women delusional or psychotic at the they killed their child. Some women just aren't good mothers. Unfortunately, they have children anyway.

I think we should start taking women at their word when they say no to childbearing.

*Actually, it's Musings of a Vast Right Winger, but I think mine makes more sense.

**I'd give you a link, but there are so many pages with "gettysburg" in the address, I can't even figure out what the official website is. Because nobody in the North cares about the Civil War.

***I know, I know, it's different with my own kid/once you have a kid. Maybe. And if it's not, I've done something horrible to a person who had no say in it.

There Is One Thing I Like About Fall

Lucidity Optional

[Note: I haven't slept in 24 hours. In that time, I have spent 12 hours unable to pee, 6 hours in the ER and had 3 doses of Dilaudid. Lucidity may vary.]

Dear Doctors, Physician's Assistants, Nurses, etc. at the ER Thursday night and Sunday night:

You are awesome. You were kind, patient and understanding when I was suffering horribly and that made it better. Oh, and the Radiology Techs with the warmed blankets? Amazing!

Dear Doctor GoFuckYourself on Saturday morning:

Seriously, go fuck yourself. I don't care if it is the grossest thing you've ever seen, please do not refer to my painfully swollen genitals as NAAAASTYY!!1!! ever again. Let alone three times. I was so humiliated by you, I waited far too long to go back to the hospital to get some actual help. Which, amazingly, was provided. By actual human beings instead of sociopaths.

To the reader:

I know it sucks to pee if you have irritation from an infection or kidney stones or whatever. Sucks as in "feels like pouring sulfuric acid all over my genitals". I know it is tempting to restrict your drinking on the grounds that you'll be peeing less, ergo less pain. (That's what I thought, anyway.)

Quick chemistry lesson: Urine is water, uric acid and salts. It's the uric acid and salts that cause the pain and irritation. If you cut out the water, that's just concentrating the uric acid and salts. Can you say "ZOMG THAT'S SWOLLEN!" Can you also say "HOLY SHIT, IT'S SO SWOLLEN I CAN NO LONGER PEE!" That's what I said. And yes, I did say it all in caps. See, if you increase your water intake, the urine is diluted, so it's mostly water and very little acid and salt. Yes, you pee more, but it hurts way less each time. That's the sort of knowledge that would have saved me 6 hours in the ER last night.

Anyway, I'm much better now, I just need a nap. You should review the Revised Standard Pain Chart before your next ER venture.

Religion: a Sick System

How to Keep Someone Forever is a guide to creating a sick system in a business or a relationship, but the corollary to religion is striking. Perfect, in fact.

Rule 1: Keep them too busy to think. Thinking is dangerous. If people can stop and think about their situation logically, they might realize how crazy things are.

Religion is good at this one: pray 5 times a day, attend prayer meetings, worship services, bible studies, read the bible regularly, pray regularly, have as many children as you can, evangelize constantly, and on and on and on.

Rule 2: Keep them tired. Exhaustion is the perfect defense against any good thinking that might slip through. Fixing the system requires change, and change requires effort, and effort requires energy that just isn't there. No energy, and your lover's dangerous epiphany is converted into nothing but a couple of boring fights.

This is also a corollary to keeping them too busy to think. Of course you can't turn off anyone's thought processes completely—but you can keep them too tired to do any original thinking. The decision center in the brain tires out just like a muscle, and when it's exhausted, people start making certain predictable types of logic mistakes. Found a system based on those mistakes, and you're golden.

See number one, especially the fundy strains that require many, many children, like Quiverfull.

Rule 3: Keep them emotionally involved. Make them love you if you can, or if you're a company, foster a company culture of extreme loyalty. Otherwise, tie their success to yours, so if you do well, they do well, and if you fail, they fail. If you're working in an industry where failure isn't a possibility (the government, utilities), establish a status system where workers do better or worse based on seniority. (This also works in bad relationships if you're polyamorous.)

Also note that if you set up a system in which personal loyalty and devotion are proof of your lover's worthiness as a person, you can make people love you. Or at least think they love you. In fact, any combination of intermittent rewards plus too much exhaustion to consider other alternatives will induce people to think they love you, even if they hate you as well.

God above all else. That is what religion demands. God above you, god above your family, your spouse, your children, your friends. Are any of the people you love not of your religion? Shun them. Only god matters. And you must prove your loyalty constantly. How much are you praying, how much have you sacrificed, how often are you attending church and evangelizing? And the rules, are your following them? No matter how insane the rules, you must constantly strive for a level of perfection humans can't attain, but don't stop trying, or you're not loyal enough. (See also, rule 1, rule 2)

Rule 4: Reward intermittently. Intermittent gratification is the most addictive kind there is. If you know the lever will always produce a pellet, you'll push it only as often as you need a pellet. If you know it never produces a pellet, you'll stop pushing. But if the lever sometimes produces a pellet and sometimes doesn't, you'll keep pushing forever, even if you have more than enough pellets (because what if there's a dry run and you have no pellets at all?). It's the motivation behind gambling, collectible cards, most video games, the Internet itself, and relationships with crazy people.

Casinos live on the principle of random reinforcement. There is no more powerful force. I see it with my dog every day. I trained him to sit by always giving him a treat when he obeyed the command. Today, he sits on command about 75% of the time. However, he stalks Teh Hubby while he cooks because every now and again something tasty falls on the floor.

How does religion harness this power? Prayer. Pray and pray and pray. Pray for everything, for mom to survive cancer, for little Billy to make the team, pray for love, pray for rain in the desert. Every now and again, your prayer will be answered- god is great! Never mind the 43,000 other times your prayers were ignored.

I highly recommend reading the rest of the post, it's brilliant- and frightening. The section following reward intermittently is an excellent description of my office, in case you'd like to know what my normal workday looks like.

Randomness

Yesterday, I was walking to the Dunkin' Donuts and as I walked past two women sitting on a stoop, I heard this: So I told her you gotta pick one: career woman or mother.

I really wanted to stop and ask if she had ever even considered saying such a thing to a man, but I have to keep living in my house, so I didn't. Really, has anyone ever heard anyone suggest that a man must choose between his career and his role as a father? Anyone? Bueller?

Then, Teh Hubby was reading his twitter feed aloud for me (I just can't get into twitter) and I hear this: A shout out to all the fathers that do more than provide a paycheck to their children. They are the true heroes.

Yeah. Heroes. Let's review the bare minimum for a woman to be considered not a good mother, but rather a "I won't call CYS on you just yet" mother. Care, feeding, clothing, doctor's visits, cleaning, playing with, helping with homework, rocking to sleep, staying up with when sick, being intimately familiar with all friends, fictional and real, all favorite tv shows and movies and music, etc. etc. That's not a heroic mom, that's just a mom. Fathers, however, are freaking Superman if they know their kids' names.

Yeah.

Etiquette Shorts

If you are a man standing next to a woman you do not know on a windy day, and her skirt pulls a Marilyn Monroe, giving you a clear view of her underwear, the polite response is to pretend that the same gust of wind rendered you temporarily blind.

It is not proper to turn to said woman and exclaim, "Wow! Them some nice panties! You get 'em at Victoria's Secret?"

Just so you know.

picture link

What the Entire World Needs

I think the entire world needs a kitty, and before we say or do hurtful things, to ourselves or others, we should be required to pet that kitty's soft, soft belly.

Hmmm. I may have just figured out how the Dalai Lama keeps his cool.

Notes from the Day

Mother Nature is a mean bitch. She combined epic snowfall with getting my period early with the day before payday. So there I was, trudging through 4" of snow, in my winter boots that I quickly learned are no longer weatherproof, carrying a coffee can half full of pennies to the Coinstar. I recommend against carrying a coffee can around while wearing a pashmina wrapped around your head hijab-like to protect your hair from the snow. Apparently, I looked like a terrorist. A really stylish terrorist.



This is the conversation we had with Meanboss at 11 am.

Us: There's 3" of snow on the ground, and it's falling at a rate of 2"/hour for the next 12 hours.

Meanboss: So?

Us: We'd like to go home before we get snowed in.

Meanboss: There's 3" of snow on the ground- you're being ridiculous!

Us: 6 hours x 2"/hour + 3" on the ground = 15" of snow.

Meanboss: Fine. We can leave at 2:30.

Us: *collective seething hatred*


So, I'll see you when I see you.

The New Year

All I have to say is, if 2010 is any worse than 2009, I will wake up one day this year to discover that I am on fire.

The Rules

Okay, apparently some people (you know who you are) don't know this.

If you are walking through a department store, and you see a sale rack labeled $3.99, you must stop and look at the rack. Sure, it's probably filled with the sort of clothes the people who wear gold lame leggings wouldn't wear, but you must look.

Should you happen to see a pair of jeans on that rack in a nice, medium wash*, a reasonable rise, the right length, and your size, you are legally required to buy those jeans. Federal law prohibits you from passing up a deal of that caliber. They are jeans and they are less than $5, you must buy them**.



*I'm still recovering from the 80s, so all of my jeans are one shade removed from black. I die a little inside when I see teenagers wearing acid washed jeans as if that were new, or possibly ironic. It's not ironic, I don't care what Alannis says.

**In the future, when I am Emporor of the Entire Freakin' Planet (my actual title), this will be a real law***. Violators will be prosecuted.

***I will ban leggings while I'm at it. Also.

Busy

The problem with working for banks is that certain business has to be concluded before the end of the year. So, every December, a few days before Christmas, bank vice presidents look at their calendars and say, "ZOMG- it's like 8 business days til the end of the year! This, all of this that has sat on my desk for months and months must be done now! Right NOW!"

And now it's my problem.

I leave you to ponder this:

That might actually make a 6,000 year old universe make sense.

Random Thoughts

To the high school girls that ride the bus with me:

I think it's fantastic that you've invented a time machine, and I'd love to discuss the math behind that with you, but why are you using such a wondrous device to raid my closet 20 years ago?

Why?

Today at Victoria's Secret*

I realized certain truths need to be explained:

I do not want my bras and panties covered in bows - because I'm not five years old.

Also, if you are a man being dragged into Victoria's Secret by a woman, I understand you're uncomfortable. I understand that you don't want to be there- though you also do want to be there. I understand you're not sure where to rest your gaze. My chest is not a good choice. Looking at the panties I am examining, then looking at my crotch is an even worse one. Doing it while your girlfriend is watching you is the worst choice yet.

*The semiannual sale is winding down. If you miss it, you'll miss crazy cheap prices until December.

Swedish Nirvana

sweden, ikea, furniture, random,
So, if I'm in Ikea, listening to Flock of Seagulls and run into Swedes speaking Swedish, is that nirvana or a racial incident? (No lie- happened to me on Saturday.)

What is it with the Swedes and their delightfully modern, affordable furniture and their tiny deer? No wonder they don't need religion.

Still Here

Still here, still atheist. Just very busy. (Oh, and my home computer is broken, hence the lack of weekend posts lately. Supposedly, it will be fixed late this week.)

Will post soon.

Feel free to go nuts with the comments.