No one does that stuff unless they are poor or a kid who doesn’t have access to street drugs.  I also read that she hangs out with Miley Cyrus and Pauly D….Those people don’t have to do whip its either.  All of these fools can afford the real drugs.

Why are they insulting poor people and kids by crossing over into their whip cream can stash?  Stay away Demi…These whip cream cans are MINE.

But you smile and nod and pretend like you are deeply interested in such boring nonsense.  And surprisingly enough, the mere act of you nodding and smiling makes the other party believe you are totally into their crap.  

You go along with it…smiling and nodding and not talking.  (Part of the reason I’m going along with such a charade is because I need friends for my kid…I don’t want to gyp her out of having friends…even though later on in life, she undoubtedly realize that they are overrated)

We go over to their Martha Stewart redecorated house once or twice a week so Piper can play….I smile and listen to this lady talk about recipes and decorating ideas.  I don’t say anything (mostly cuz I have nothing to contribute)…

We decide to do “trade” babysitting…I babysit at their house and vice versa.  I go to their house…I notice that they are the typical normal family…cutesy kid room…lots of healthy food everywhere…a gigantic oversized flat screen TV…I absorb this strange culture.  I’m also a little annoyed all the food is “low fat”, “fat free” or “healthy”…where is the fucking junk food?  That was my only glory in babysitting when I was younger…eating all the junk food in the house and leaving the family wondering where all their food went.

There is no junk food anywhere so my plans are soiled.  Instead I opt to eat their tub of fat free butter..it’s the closest thing I can get to junk food.  I scarf down blocks of the fat free cheese…egads. I’m still starving.  Damn it.

Okay, so I’m going to digress now.  I babysit and now it’s this chick’s turn to baby sit for me.  Oh no….She is expecting Martha fucking Stewart ville and I am more like Adam’s Family-ville.

Food is fairly scarce around here…lots of junk food like nuts and chocolate milk and chili cheese chips which I’m sure she’ll find offensive.  (because even though I never said anything about being healthy or eating healthy food…that is all she talks about and she interrprets my head nodding as ‘yea, I do the same shit’…which is NOT true at all)

I have a totally crappy TV which no one watches.  It’s only here for dire emergencies if the kid is being unruly.  In fact, this past year or so was the first time I even owned a TV set and guess what?  I realized I missed out on nothing. 

My place is a huge open spaced loft type thing…Hard wood floors…I mean, I really like it but it looks like a hippie/artist type lives here (which they do…)

Piper has a huge queen size bed to herself in an area of the house.  She has toys everywhere, a play tent…my boyfriend’s office is in a corner and he works on some racy material at times (which I’m hoping she doesn’t decide to use the computer…it could be awkward if she sees some of his projects)…

We have two dogs which pretty much run the place.  They have beds bigger than mine and they rule dis piece all up in here.  This place is pretty much a kid and dogs dream house.  We have no rules and they have the run of the joint.  

Anyways, I guess it will come out of the bag that I’m not so normal after all.  I hope this Martha Stewart living lady’s dreams aren’t dashed when she sees how undomesticated and unhousewifey I am…. 

It’s really pissing me off.  It all started when I started following and researching Congo and how the US uses precious minerals from their mines.  The stuff that happens in Congo is beyond devestating …over 5 million deaths, 300,000  rapes in a very short period of time.  They force children to work in these mines…force children to eat their parents, watch  their mothers get raped and killed and just unspeakable unfathomable things that go on.

The more I researched, the more disgusted I became…thinking about smug asshole Americans walking around with their iphones and other electronics while the people of Congo are experiencing unspeakable acts and tragedy at our expense. 

I can’t with a clear conscience have a cell phone that was manufactured from the mines which fuel such acts of human violation.  It sickens me to think about even owning a cell phone and what these poor people are forced to endure so we can have fucking electronics.

One good thing though…is cell phone companies are now going to be forced to disclose where they buy their minerals from…which will make things better for the consumer who wants to be aware of the origin of materials that make their communications devices possible..

The downside is..that companies won’t be punished or fined for using conflict minerals.  They just want to raise awareness so people will hopefully start to take notice and stop buying those products.  The other sad part is…a lot of people won’t take the time to research or find out where their cell phones materials come from.

I’ve been researching for a while to find a cell phone made without conflict minerals and it’s really fucking hard.  Motorola says they no longer use them and have a testing device to find out where the minerals come from so I guess that is a start…Iphone is allegedly working on a “conflict mineral free phone”…then I get excited and then I read about the sweatshops that these companies run with poor working conditions…then I get mad again.

In Denmark…there is a freedom phone (I think that’s what it’s called) but you can only get it in Denmark…I would like to go phoneless but I’m afraid I would have trouble getting work and talking to clients and whatnot.  (even though a lot of my work correspondence is through email)…

Anyways, I’ll continue my search or maybe just go cell phone less until the conflict mineral free iphone comes out…Anyways, I urge anyone and everyone to read up on the Congo tragedy.  It’s very disturbing and might cause you to rethink your whole cell phone agenda. 

I also urge people to demand to know where the minerals come from in your phone.  It’s a very small thing we can do to battle the horrible living conditions in Congo.

I couldn’t help but think…what was this joker thinking when he threw the ladder in his truck unsecured?  Did he think it would just stay there magically?

The weird thing was that he just kept driving, totally oblivious to the ladder flying out from the back of his truck.  I’ve never traveled with a ladder in my entire life but I’d have to think that I might take notice of it randomly almost killing people behind me?

The car behind me too…ran it over.  I think they got a flat tire because they pulled over immediately.  I ran over part of it too but I must not have gotten a flat (hopefully…I still have to drive home  from work)…I did make it to work somehow.

Anyways, after my near death experience…much like many…I found the lord.  He rode with me for about two miles and then he wanted to stop at Kohl’s to get a new loicloth that was on sale so I let him out.

He can be a fair-weathered friend.

I even had a few  “drunk” texting friends…where we’d sit and text each other upon alcohol ingestion.  It was completely harmless and we’d just text random nonesense we thought was hilarious.  It was nice having a drunk  texting friend or two.  Alas, those days were put to an end when my car got jacked.

Texting on the bus doesn’t have the same danger factor involved and it’s hard to concentrate over people screaming in their megaphones about jesus or fending off crack dealers.  The subway presented a whole new problem too, there is no phone reception down there…underground.  It was pretty upsetting.

The first time I did feel somewhat alarmed over this was when I saw a sign that said; “If you have an emergency, call this number”  A phone number was posted but the joke was on us…the subway riders.  If we were getting attacked, murdered, mugged or maimed on the subway or the platform area…we couldn’t really call that number until after the attack was over.  Then we’d have to drag our half dead bloody carcasses up the steps a few flights and hope we can get cell phone reception. 

I’m fairly certain to this day, they did it to be funny.

I digress…After my car got stolen, I would rent cars often and I’d totally take the liberty to go on a texting frenzy while driving them.  Sometimes I’d even refuse the insurance to add some danger to the whole thing. 

Then I had a baby and the crazed driving and texting days were put to a squealing halt.  No more danger, no more drinking and texting…or driving and texting or drinking, driving and texting while doing my make-up and eating a burrito.  Egads…all the fun is OVER.

I solemly stopped doing everything that was bad and started driving like an old grandma…no phone in sight.  Suddenly, all my texting buddies disappeared…one by one…I was no fun anymore.

I wasn’t ever drunk enough to be a funny  riotious texter…drunk enough?  I wes never even in the presence of alcohol to be drunk at all.  I wouldn’t dare put a child’s life at danger with my rampid texting sprees…It’s over.  I’m officially no fun.  People were onto me too.  They all noticed and wanted no part of this “chick with a baby and no texting business”.

I hung my head low but I trudged on and still to this day..(two years later)  I don’t text and drive and in fact, I get really pissed at people who do.  I yell outloud…”You bastard, you are putting lives in danger…put your fucking phone down…no one thinks you’re funny.  You are just annoyig with your texting.”  (I like to think of myself as a professional texter with all my snappy quips and ridiculously fast typing..it was a fun game, but alas a game I’m out of now).

So today, some chick (probably simillar to me a few years ago before my reformation) is driving along in her jeep…she is texting…she smashes into us from behind.  OUCH…my neck snaps (it still hurts too, damn it).

We are all okay, she pulls over and KEEPS TEXTING.  She does look up and spew forth a few sincere apologies.  But she continues to text whoever she was texting…like our car being on the road was an annoyance to her texting brigade.

I bet she was texting the textee about how she just hit someon…LOL..LMAO…they are pissed…LOL  They have a baby in the car…LMAO…Should I rob them for kicks?  LOL

I sat and watched her text and felt a small twinge of jealousy creep over me.  Oh, to be young (like two years ago) and texting and driving without a care in the world.  Ha, I hit someone whille texting and driving…it’s okay.  I’ll text my insurance guy..he’ll be right over.  I can even text the police if you want…if they aren’t busy stopping some GTA and LOL-ing about it.

Secretly I just want one day where I can drive around town texting and driving with reckless abandon like the good ol days…before they passed laws against it.

I feel that if you work in a restaurant as a cook, you should not have leprosy on your hands along with open sores.  I observed an open kitchen with a cook who was a freaking LEPER…and had open scabby type sores on his hands.  He was fondling the food more than was necessary which tripped me out even more.

I don’t know why anyone would hire this guy to work in a restaurant, let alone a place that has a open kitchen for all to see their food being molested with leper/scabby hands.  It was super creepy. (before we continue, NO…I did NOT eat there…I politely declined any sort of meal that was offered).

It made me wonder that if you own a restaurant or are the hiring person…did you NOT notice leprosy growing on this man’s hands.  Did the over-abundance of open sores raise an eyebrow or two?  Why isn’t he wearing gloves when manhandling food?  At least put a pair of gloves on if your mitts if they are so grotesque and you are handling stuff people are putting in their mouth.  RIGHT?

Don’t even get me starts on the scabby open sores…I sat there wondering if anyone could get a disease from whatever is happening to his hands.  I watched all the people unknowingly eating their food…while I happen to notice him touching and fingering their food more than was necessary with those scabby hands.

No one else seemed to take notice.  How can you not take a good evaluation of the person who is going to cook your food?  Especially if the kitchen is right there out in the open?  I’m always peeping out the person cooking the grub, even if I can get a tiny glimpse…I will.  I want to make sure there are no communicable diseases I’m going to take home after I eat somewhere.

It may sound like I’m a little nuts..but my family owned restaurants and I was forced to work in them at age 13.  You notice things…I also notice more things because their restaurant/bar was exceptionally clean and upstanding compared to most. But I won’t lie, the occasional asshole comes in and acts like a dick about his steak and whatever else and is irrational…I saw someone or someone (s) drop stuff on the ground and do weird unspeakable acts to it before returning it to “above-said” asshole.

I’m just saying…if completely upstanding people are driven over the edge to do strange things on the rare occasion to people’s food…what is going to stop a disease-laden leprosy scabby hand guy from doing even weirder and more disturbing things to people’s food on a daily basis?

Be careful and make sure and check out the cooks if you can, before you eat somewhere…also, if you can’t get a quick glimpse at them….order stuff that you know they don’t have to manhandle before they cook it.  Or just stock up on antibiotics to fight off whatever disease you are going to catch upon ingestion.

I swear I’m not crazy…well…maybe a little..but seriously, the food thing…you should start taking notice of the people cooking your food at restaurants…it will appall you.

I liked not celebrating the holidays for most of my life.  Now the holidays weird me out a little.  I have to buy stuff, act gay …not get double -time at work cuz I have to “be” somewhere to celebrate with people.  It’s weird.

I mean, I had many Christmas’ where I just sat in my living abode…relaxing.  I fucking loved it.  It was nice to just sit around and relax and then when you go out…there is NO traffic.  That is how it should be.  Just relaxing with no traffic…

Now I have to run around in a frenzy buying stuff for people…throwing a tree up in my living room (First time I’ve ever had a christmas tree is this year…)  If I ever start baking or wearing christmas sweaters…I will end it all.

I work eight million jobs right now and at one of them…our boss mumbles.  I mean, really fucking mumbles.  You have to decipher for a good 15 minutes what he said and really you are just stringing along phrases and hoping your estimate is somewhat close to what he said.

Working for a mumbler is challenging…especially if you guess wrong.  But some things work in your favor when the guy is about 110 years old and forgets what he mumbled about earlier and then you can convince him that he has Alzheimer’s and then tell him what you think he may have said.  It works about fifty percent of the time.

When you meet a mumbler in casual conversation or on the street, it’s easy.  You smile and laugh (hoping it’s something that could be construed as funny…if not, you just come across as an asshole but who cares…you may never see that person again).  When you have to see the mumbler every goddamn day…it’s totally different.  They might be telling you some sorrowful heart-breaking story about their wife and the problems they are having in their marriage and how their sons are just waiting for them to croak so they can collect on the life insurance and there you are…laughing fucking hysterically.  It can be misconstrued.

A lot of times, I’ve learned an earnest head nod and a semi-concerned look can work wonders.  If he smiles, then and only then do you smile.  If he’s yelling, you look sympathetic and shake your head vigorously like you are going to fix whatever is angering him.

It’s really a lot like working with a mute or the riddler.  Then when the mumbler takes a day off and his replacement speaks clearly…you are confused because you don’t have to strain your ears or lean in a little too close or make weird dubious emotional expressions.  You can make the proper ones.

When the guy tells you his cat is dying…you aren’t laughing like a maniac. When he tells you he’s going to Germany, you aren’t making a sad empathetic face. 

SO all of you out there that get to work with people you can properly hear, I envy you.

What the hell?  You don’t have a minute or two to take a piss?  That is pretty fucking busy…I’m imaging a scenario at work where they are sitting at their desk and they get the urge to urinate.  The “busy” on-the-go woman thinks to herself, “I  have to pee, but you know what?  I’m going to just piss my pants cuz I have my catheter in”.  No need to waste time emptying my bladder.” 

Or in traffic, “wow, this is heavy traffic…I wish I wouldn’t have drank that third cup of coffee…I really gotta go.  Oh wait, I have my travel catheter kit with me…no problem, I can pee my pants. 

I mean, really?  Who the fuck is using these things?  Who the hell is comfortable enough to just piss themselves.  Plus, catheters fucking suck…I had a c-section and the worst part of the whole damn thing was the catheter.

Maybe they are marketing it to dedicated tv watchers who don’t want to miss anything and sometimes when they go to the bathroom during commercials…they miss the first 30 seconds or so of their show? 

I can’t decide if you are really fucking busy or really fucking lazy to use this traveling catheter thing.

I was on my computer until it died…I slowly (well actually, rather quickly) ran down the batteries of everything I owned.  The computer, the phone, the dvd player, the cd player…the keyboard, the nook and so on and so forth.

THEN the worst of all, I was forced to interact with other HUMANS in LIVE conversation. WHAT?  It was awkward and weird…actually talking and conversating with humans when I don’t have to (like at work…but even at work you can get away with texting or emailing people from the other room).

Anyways, after all of this uncomfortable and annoying chatting and face to face contact with the neighbors…I retire to (just like a pioneer) my dark living quarters.  Eventually the sun comes up and I gather up my family in the horse and buggy and we head to the nearest Starbuck’s to charge our shit up.  (like everyone else).

It was my lucky day, I got the outlet next to the men’s bathroom…nice and creepy, just like I like it.  I proceed to charge my computer, phone…and anything else I could carry into the joint.  (I feel that my 5 dollar cup of coffee is worth a little power stealing).

When my phone finally comes back to life…I have hundreds of text messages.  (I was expecting to have zero  or one).  People are concerned about me and my well-being.  Huh?  I mean, yea..the power went out but half the people texting me didn’t have power either. I keep reading and reading and reading and reading…and I get to the bottom of it.

Apparently when my computer died?  And I went to sleep…somehow some sneaky  hacker person got into my facebook and emailed people this weird email about me being in London and getting mugged at gunpoint and needing thousands of dollars. 

Some people were nice enough to send me this so-called email.  First of all, I (the hacker) starts it out with “Hi, How are you?”…Who would start out a frantic plea for help with a friendly greeting?  Not me.  I’d be like; “help bitches”…that is how I’d start out a frantic message.  (I’m just giving the hacker ideas for next time…the guy/gal really  didn’t know me at all).

Next it talked about how I was “thankful to god” for saving my life…No I’m NOT…I’m pissed at him for me getting mugged in the first place, what a jerk.  (that is what I’d say)…I certainly wouldn’t thank him for my misfortune.

Then I babbled on some more…blah blah blah (I’m not much of a babbler unless I’ve been drinking…otherwise, I’m pretty much to the point)  Part of my JOB is to not babble or waste people’s time and I try to adhere to that in my personal life as well…(unless I’ve been drinking).  So I (the hacker masquerading as me) tell the email recipients the mugger got my credit cards and cell phone.  Anyone who knows me, knows I would not head to the nearest library after being mugged and get on facebook and start sending messages on facebook.  I really don’t even email that much on facebook and the other thing…MY FACEBOOK NAME IS NOT MY REAL NAME, which is even funnier.  Most people that got the mail have worked with me in radio and know my real name so they were even more baffled.

Last of all, I have been mugged (a long time ago) and I did not email people asking for money.  I called the bank and cancelled my credit/debit cards and then I silently stewed in my apartment about how the guy got my three dollars and I might’ve written a blog about it.  But mostly I would just have rather had the mugger say; “Hey, give me your money…I’m going to pull out a knife if you don’t.”  Then if he would’ve thanked me in advance…I probably would’ve given him the money if he was creepy/scary enough…

Last of all, no one has guns in London like the US…I know tons of people in London and it’s rare to get mugged at gunpoint there…they don’t have guns laying around over there.

Some of my friends were emailing the hacker back which is even funnier…and he was trying desperately to tell them it was me…but the verbage was close to nothing I would ever write, plus the grammar and broken English was atrocious.  (I’m kind of offended if people thought it was me).  

In his attempts to get people to believe me..he was signing the email ”Kim” which I have never used and again, anyone who knows me..knows I hate the name ”Kim” (No offense to the Kim’s out there).

And needing thousands of dollars?  WTF?  IF I was going to ask for thousands of dollars, it would be to make a movie or a short film…not get cab fare back to a hotel.  Last of all, if I did get mugged in London and was left with no money, I’d just live there.

 In closing, after closer investigation…it turned out the hacker actually went into facebook and somehow reset my password and then had the new secret code sent to his/her phone number which is even more sneaky and I’d have to imagine a lot of work.  I know that hackers have high tech programs that just keep trying passwords until they get it…I understand that part of it.  But to get the password and then go ahead and change the phone number that the “secret code” gets sent to is kind of an extra step. 

Okay…really in closing this time…One of my facebook friends actually sent the hacker a dollar.  Maybe this so-called hacker can buy cab-fare to hell now.