Good Times (not the TV show from the '70's)

All of my weekends have been pretty interesting, if not fun, since I went back to school. For the first time since we've been married, Josh and I get to relax and go on adventures together, sometimes a mixture of both. This past weekend was a lot of fun and fairly random. Next weekend promises to be eventful, as well. I can't wait!

On Friday, Josh and I hosted a meeting for full-time L.P.R.S. members, during which my mind was officially blown. Members of our group found the most phenomenal and unique piece of video evidence I've seen in many years of combing through paranormal surveillance files. I am hoping we will have a clip of the footage ready to view within a few days. Our techs are taking great care to provide the obtained evidence in a respectable and professional manner so please bear with us, time-wise, as we prepare to reveal our evidence to the para-community. I hope to have an edited copy for company at ScareFest next weekend. It is sure not to disappoint.

Our faithful and energetic para-enthusiasts then contributed inspiring ideas concerning where the group is, can, and should be headed concerning our desired direction (after the initial shock of the video footage wore off, that is). We decided that "less is more" regarding the amount of talent to take to every location. Our guys surmised that more delegation was needed to allow the organization to operate on a competitive scale and have a presence in the field. We are learning so much through trial-and-error, practice, experience, and the expert guidance we receive from seasoned professionals on a regular basis. Bear with us once more as we become even better at what we do.

As the meeting came to a close, I changed into my version of "going out" clothes and hit the bars with my best friend. Erin and I go way back and rarely get to hang out together outside of her house and back yard because she is a mom. We hit a hipster bar first and almost called it a night after that. We decided to give it one more shot in a friendlier place and moved on to a more accommodating venue. We stayed out too late and drank a little too much, but we had a great time, as we usually do.

A little on the early side, Josh and I woke up for game day. Mom picked us up around 11 am and we headed to campus. The weather could not have possibly been nicer; the parking could not have been closer (and the parking sign read both of my parents' names correctly, so that was good). Dad was in the field but made great efforts to give us a "Boiler Up!" before kick-off, calling all of our cell phones until someone called him back. The offensive line looked organized and effective. The defense got brave and made some huge plays. We sat in our seats for the majority of the game. That hasn't happened in what seems like years, and we enjoyed the afternoon to its fullest. It was a shut-out, another anomaly Purdue fans haven't witnessed frequently or recently. What a fun game to watch.

Mom dropped us off after the game with tailgate leftovers and a new tee shirt for me featuring a throwback Purdue Pete silk-screened on breathable, high quality fabric, in a color I can live with. We notice the pink twinge of developing sunburns on each other's cheeks as we prepare for the day's next activity: a quick drive to Attica to check our camera traps for exotic, large cats. We stop by mom and dad's to say "hi" to everyone on the way and arrive at a bustling farm. Dad is refueling the big red monster with help from my cousin Dan. Big Bill is wearing a Purdue hat and an L.P.R.S. shirt and is happy to see me. I had to jump back in my truck and move it to make room for the semi Luther was lumbering into position. I waved to my second daddy, hollered a hello to my mom, used the pink bathroom, directed Josh to grab some Pepsi and we were off like a dirty shirt.

Of the bait we set, there was no sign. We arrived at the site where we placed our camera and the meat we'd left several days before was gone with no tracks leading to and fro that might indicate what creature ate the yummy goodness I'd left behind. The trap itself was filled with pictures of deer: does and adolescent off-spring mostly and a few button bucks.No big cat photos today, it seems so we do the next best thing. I take my husband road farming.

Road farming is an activity enjoyed by country kids and adults who have access to a vehicle, the desire to drive very slowly, and the need to stare at shit as it rolls slowly by. I love driving around the least traveled back roads, turning this way and that, and not always knowing where you will "end up." Josh showed his unbridled enthusiasm by promptly falling asleep. I woke him for things he likes to see and let him snooze the rest of the time (he can peacefully fall asleep is any moving vehicle). We had ice-cream at Wolf's and french-fries from Short-Stop. We arrived home to cats that were happy to see us and hadn't coughed up or crapped on anything. Nothing was shredded and scattered all over the TV room and our snake, Mittens, had shed again and was looking especially beautiful. I changed into pajama pants (not to be confused with pajama jeans) and settled in to my butt crater on my favorite piece of furniture and picked up my laptop.

Aunt Lucy and Uncle Bill gave me a fantastic leather loveseat that I sit on regularly. It's a comfy seat and less prone to random cat attacks than the dining room table so I usually do my homework here. With homework and classes on the brain I log into my student portal to, once again, check my grades for updates. I took my last final on Thursday and feel like I've been waiting for eons to know exactly how I did last term. Looks like I have a 103, two 100's, a 99, and a 97% in my five classes. This is the first time I've been a 4.0 GPA since my freshman year at Purdue over ten years ago and I am very pleased.

I now have a week off from classes to look forward to and prepare for next term. Josh and I are have a They Might Be Giants concert (with Jonathan Coultan) on Thursday night then we are headed straight to Lexington for ScareFest. This will be our first major Para-Conn and we are very much looking forward to it. Wish me luck and thanks so much for reading!

Idle Brains Write Stupid Songs

I guess I'm either ready for Christmas or another paranormal investigation because this is what I have on the brain right now... Enjoy at your own risk!


The Twelve Days of Ghost-Hunting
For my group's first ghost-hunt, I took along with me
The guy that makes my heart go "squee"

On my group's second ghost-hunt, I took along with me
That crazy bitch from school
And the guy that makes my heart go "squee"

On my group's third ghost hunt, I took along with me
A raging diabetic
Crazy bitch from school
And the guy that makes my heart go "squee"

On my group's fourth ghost-hunt, I took along with me
Occupational therapist
Raging diabetic
Crazy bitch from school
And the guy that make my heart go "squee"

On my group's fifth ghost-hunt, I took along with me
Our... eye... candy...!
Occupational therapist
Raging diabetic
Crazy bitch from school
And the guy that makes my heart go "squee"

On my group's sixth ghost-hunt, I took along with me
Army dudes in camo
Our... eye... candy...!
Occupational therapist
Raging diabetic
Crazy bitch from school
And the guy that makes my heart go "squee"

On my group's seventh ghost-hunt, I took along with me
One Ball State Cardinal
Army dudes in camo
Our... eye... candy...!
Occupational therapist
Raging diabetic
Crazy bitch from school
And the guy that makes my heart go "squee"

On my groups eighth ghost-hunt, I took along with me
Fourth Degree Masons
One Ball State Cardinal
Army dudes in camo
Our... eye... candy...!
Occupational therapist
Raging diabetic
Crazy bitch from school
And the guy that makes my heart go "squee"

On my group's ninth ghost hunt I took along with me
Wives of Army Guys
Fourth Degree Masons
One Ball State Cardinal
Army dudes in camo
Our... eye... candy...!
Occupational therapist
Raging diabetic
Crazy bitch from school
And the guy that makes my heart go "squee"

On my group's tenth ghost hunt, I took along with me
A frightened girl named Katie
Wives of Army Guys
Fourth Degree Masons
One Ball State Cardinal
Army dudes in camo
Our... eye... candy...!
Occupational therapist
Raging diabetic
Crazy bitch from school
And the guy that makes my heart go "squee"

My group's eleventh ghost hunt, I took along with me
Kid that looked thirty
Frightened girl named Katie
Wives of Army Guys
Fourth Degree Masons
One Ball State Cardinal
Army dudes in camo
Our... eye... candy...!
Occupational therapist
Raging diabetic
Crazy bitch from school
And the guy that makes my heart go "squee"

On my group's twelfth ghost-hunt, I took along with me
A rented mini-van
Kid that looked thirty
Frightened girl named Katie
Wives of Army Guys
Fourth Degree Free Masons
One Ball State Cardinal
Army dudes in camo
Our... eye... candy...!
Occupational therapist
Raging diabetic
Crazy bitch from school
And the guy that makes my heart go "squee"

Certain liberties have been taken to make this stupid song a wee less ludicrous. I hope you enjoyed it because that's five minutes you are never getting back. Namaste!

Final Essay for Com II

Why Education Is Important to Today’s Society

Now more than ever, people of all ages around the country and abroad, are flocking to college campuses in droves. The economy is circling the proverbial toilet bowl and the job market is fully saturated. Homeowners owe more on their mortgages than their houses are currently worth. The majority of American voters have completely lost faith in government at the Federal level. Yet, one asset we still have as a country (in the Midwest, especially) is excellent colleges abound. US cities and countrysides are virtually peppered with institutions of higher learning. The people who survive this national economic event will have taken advantage of time off work or government stimulus to further their education, and the country will be better because of it. Education is important in today’s society because it is education that will see us through this mess by opening doors to new experiences; improving your salary at your current job; or carving the path to your new career

To begin, the decision to further your education will open the door to new experiences, like meeting new people, joining clubs, and attending community events. Meeting new people at school is the first step in forming professional relationships with future coworkers. Knowing there are people you like to interact with makes studying more fun and helps drive healthy competition because you are all working toward a common goal. There is also the possibility that you may get to work with some of them as well, so it never hurts to make some friends. The next opportunity to open doors through education lies with clubs and organizations. An academic club is an excellent entity for discovering what the upper-class-men are working on and showing you what to expect in future classes. Clubs and organizations are also great for obtaining new skills offered outside the classroom like CPR certifications and resume building workshops. The third phase of new experiences in higher education occurs when opportunities to branch out into the community arise. For example, attending a Women in Business luncheon would be a great experience and opportunity to meet female business owners and professionals while participating in a seminar led by local health-care workers could introduce you to people already working in the medical field. Exposure to new people and experiences is paramount when pursuing higher education, especially after a lapse in enrollment.

In addition to having new opportunities through networking, choosing to pursue higher education can result in a higher-paying salary at your current job through obtaining a certificate or license, expanding your current knowledge base, or receiving your degree. Many colleges and universities offer training programs in which the end result is a certificate, license, or other accolades. For instance, people wishing to sell homes must first obtain a license to do so and nursing assistants need certification to perform certain duties, depending on where they work. These programs can last as little as a couple of hours, or take up to a few years to complete. Higher education can also improve your over-all knowledge in your occupation or chosen field. Law enforcement officials, educators, sellers of insurance, and licensed pilots (to name a few) must constantly stay up-to-date with ever changing laws and regulations. Being the first employee at your firm with premiere business strategies and updated procedure methods make you more valuable to your bosses and is often awarded monetarily. Now that you have obtained additional certification and expanded your knowledge base in your field of choice, you might as well stay on and get that degree! Receiving your degree, or multiple degrees, can do nothing but improve your station at work and therefore, in life. With new degrees often come new job titles, promotions, and an increase in pay and is that not why we are all here? Sally Struthers nailed it when she said, “do you want to make more money? Sure. We all do!”

Finally, some people (including myself) choose to further their educations because they wish to start completely over in a new work environment, with a new job description, and a better career. First of all, certain occupations are wrought with the same day-today experiences and typical routines; they become boring or tedious after awhile regardless of employer. Obtaining a degree can open up the possibility to work under a brand new set of circumstances in a different type of environment in a completely new field. To continue, possessing a degree can land you a job title you may have never considered or even heard of before. “Hi. I’m Eileen and and I am the director of pharmaceutical inventory management and patient care relations specialists, please step into my office.” You think you can get a title (or office) such as this without a degree? I think not. Finally, there is arguably few events in life more exciting than the prospect of starting a better career. A change of pace is almost always good; new-found respect, promotions, and titles are even better; yet nothing can top waking up in the morning knowing you are headed to a job you love, that will love you back. Ask anyone who has been there and they will tell you, “it is totally worth it.”

There can be no doubt that the world is in a frightening state at the moment and is bound to get worse before it gets better. With all the opportunities to improve ourselves intellectually, there is simply no excuse to accept that we are given a “station in life.” We, as a nation of young and old, must face the reality that higher learning could be our salvation. I think it is time we, as a nation, decide to stop complaining about the dire straits and commit ourselves to making it better.

Here Kitty Kitty Kitty

I think it is so great to see some of the great predators (somehow) returning to their original habitats without human intervention through relocation and breeding programs. This guy (or girl) managed to infiltrate a huge chunk of private private property without being seen. By anyone. This huge cat had to cross highways and interstates and ginormous chunks of open land to arrive where he (she) is living now.

The conservation officer, who was called to the scene, was reluctant to label this animal as "mountain loin" because he feared local residents would use their rights to seek out and destroy the animal if if wandered onto their property.

There still exists, in parts of our country, the innate desire to kill any predatory animal that weighs over sixty pounds to keep the human population safe. In reality, where I often visit, I've found that unless you have a toddler that enjoys long nocturnal walks without the company of his parents, a chicken coup with shoddy fencing, or a pack of ankle-biter dogs that will attack anything 40 times its size and are allowed to run unsupervised at night, then you should be okay.

These cats are beautiful and perfect in design to control the pests that plague your garden or fields. While I am most defiantly not suggesting that you buy a mountain loin from a breeder to let it loose on your property for rodent control, I am also asking anyone who sees one of these glorious cats: to please let it be.

They were here first.

Here Comes Irene!

Okay. So The Weather Channel is freaking me out. First an earthquake and now this storm? With a bastardized version of my name, no less. The Martin Luther King Jr. dedication has even been moved back until October, possibly. Al Sharpton is going to be pissed. This is a major weather event.

The New York City public transit system could be compromised; the power grid infrastructure of the entire Eastern seaboard could suffer catastrophic outages. The storm surge might reach unprecedented levels. I am worried about my friends and Josh's family right now. Where are the evacuees heading? How will everyone, who wants to leave, get out?

I'm actually giving a guest presentation next week at school for a former (and awesome) instructor. The subject of her class's project is preparedness for the Zombie Apocalypse and I am presenting "How to Build an Effective Bug-out-bag."

I remember when the Last weekends of Summer were fun; when I didn't have to work, that is. This whole Summer has sucked, weather-wise anyway, and now this crap. People are getting all biblical, and stuff. It's weird.

Anyway, goodnight!

Don't Say I Didn't Warn You: Because I Warned You

I thought I would get a bit of a jump-start on my campaign to expose some of the people that wish to belittle, demean, or damn us all to hell.

Meet Rose Evangeline. I'm not sure if that monicker is fictional or was handed to her by God (possibly both?) but I am sure of this: she probably hates you. This lady has gone out of her way to post bible quotes on the OUTfest page to inform us of what God thinks of our little party. She later goes into a diatribe concerning the poor, innocent little children that will be forced (FORCED) to witness the very "sin that has warped this nation for many, many years."

I wonder if she is referring to the hatred and persecution suffered by millions of humans at the hands of homophobic males (and females so jaded by their own lack of influence that they attack the lowest common denominator to boost themselves up a bit).

"Please understand that it is the sin that saddens me not the person." Then perhaps you should visit the facebook page for SIN. Talk to the sin, lady.

Or perhaps she, herself is the homophobe. She goes on to say, "I am not perfect anymore then [sic] anyone else. I know what dangers lie ahead because I too once walked that path, thinking it was okay and natural." Methinks Rose wears a 40 pound ceramic angel on her head as penance for de-flowering her roommate in a drunken haze. Ah, memories...

"God bless you and keep you." You too, Rose. Although I think you might need that blessing a bit more then (just kidding, than) me. I am comfortable with who I am and don't feel the spiritual need to seek out those I deem less holy.

My advice to you, Dear Rose, is: pick up a ladle and help feed some of the folks that lost their jobs and homes over the past year. Use your compassion for good and not evil. Contact me, Rose (if that IS your real name); I can steer you in a couple of positive directions where help is desperately needed.

"My Boy Hit Big Balls with Bat!"

I have never cared much for baseball; sitting in the stands is always great fun but I cannot remember the last time I sat down to watch a game on TV. I don't really follow any particular team and couldn't possibly care less about the curses of Bambino and Goat.

I do, however, enjoy those late Summer nights on my porch when Columbian Park shines out like a beacon and echos with boisterous energy. The laughter of kids sneaking away from the game to steal a smooch from their sweetie, the crack of the bat, and the roar of proud parents in the crowd are all sounds I enjoy for some reason. It is that time of year again: time for the Colt World Series.

For one month in August each year, my little corner of the universe is the place to be for all things baseball (for 15 to 16-year-olds, anyway). I walked over to the Frozen Custard for a supa-yummo Vanilla Diet Coke and met a tiny woman in a huge T-shirt that said the word "LAOS", and nothing else. I asked her about baseball games and she replied, "my boy hit big balls with bat!" We shared a good laugh, high-fived, and we went our separate ways. Wow. Laos. That is one dedicated mamma.

For the next couple of weeks, I will have multiple chances to sit outside, forget this oppressive heat I hope), and watch the lights. I'll take in the sights, meet people who traveled half-way around the world to watch a game, take in the sounds of cracking bats, hear the cheers of happy moms and dads, and bid farewell to a very long Summer, indeed.

Big Bag of Goodies: Doomsday-preppers edition

Another assignment for my composition class, this piece contains information that preppers and non-preppers alike should have at their disposal. Stocking your home with food-stuffs and flashlight batteries is all well-and-good, but what if your house is on fire? While meant to be a bit little fun and a little bit serious, this essay is, in no way, professional advice and should not be taken as such. Always consult an expert before beginning your disaster preparations.

The Bug-out-bag: Preparation in a Knapsack


Be prepared; you never know when you might have to leave your home in a hurry. In an emergency situation, you might have to rely on what you can carry for an extended amount of time, possibly on foot. If the power goes out: you can’t get money out of an ATM, your credit cards become worthless, and the fuel stops pumping. At this point, you might consider packing a bag and heading for the proverbial hills.

Humans only require three main necessities to survive short-term: protection from the elements, clean water to drink, and enough food to keep you moving. I keep all three in my bug-out-bag (BOB) and always have it packed and ready to go in the event I need to leave my home. The lack of shelter and decent clothing can kill in hours, water in days, and food in weeks. Always be prepared.



The first basic necessity to have on hand is a collection of tools to ward off the elements. One tool I keep in my BOB is an emergency blanket which is a light-weight piece of Mylar, sixteen feet wide and eight feet long. The blanket can be used as a sleeping bag or a shelter against rain, wind, snow, or cold. It folds up and fits inside a tiny pouch that takes up very little space in my pack. Some emergency blankets, like the one I have, are easily modified into a wearable poncho.

Another tool I carry to aid in separating me form Mother Nature is duct tape; though heavy for its size, the tape’s true worth lies in its versatility. Duct tape is quite useful in shelter construction; you can use it to lash tree limbs together for a Tee-pee or lean-to frame (just add blanket, you’re warm and dry in ten minutes). In addition, duct tape makes a great patch for clothing and shoes; once again: warm, dry, and alive.

The last tool I keep in my BOB for shelter is an assortment of lengths and gauges of rope. The smallest rope I carry is thread; you can stitch a hole in your clothing (or forehead) should the need arise. The medium size rope, twine, makes a great stand-in for a broken shoe or boot lace; it’s also perfect for drying clothes that might get wet. The largest gauge rope (I use a ski-rope for durability and weight concerns) can aid in building a shelter in the event duct tape can’t do the job. In adverse weather conditions, humans can succumb to the elements in the matter of hours without clothing and shelter so be prepared.



Now that shelter and clothing are covered, we can move on to water. In a crisis situation, our most abundant resource could become tainted or scarce so it’s best to have items on hand to first purify, then filter, and finally store potable water. For purification purposes, I pack iodine and chlorine tablets. Iodine is best used in standing water from a puddle, pond, or even the tank on the back of the toilet. In contrast, chlorine is best used in running water from streams or rivers.

Filtering water may become necessary if only the only available source is muddy or filled with debris; which is why I keep coffee filters and charcoal briquettes in my bug-out-bag. Coffee filters remove sand and glass shards just as well as they remove grounds from your morning cup-a-Joe and also remove biological contaminants such as bacteria and mold. A small bag of charcoal briquettes can be crushed and used to filter out more harmful substances like poisonous chemicals and larger, living organisms.

For water storage, I have two items that never leave my pack: a 700 milliliter canteen (strapped to the outside for space reasons) and a collapsible water bladder. This canteen has an adjustable strap and can be worn in a number of ergonomic configurations to ease travel. The collapsible water bladder sports an antibacterial lining and takes up very little space when stowed. In a pinch, the a-fore-mentioned Mylar blanket also doubles as a rain-collection device to conserve filtration/purification supplies. Clean drinking water is vital to short-term survival on foot so be prepared.


The final (and most delicious) sundry that resides in my ever-ready BOB is food: MRE’s, trail mix, and energy bars. My favorite food source (and the most valuable) is the MRE, or meals-ready-to-eat; they are freeze-dried meals normally used to feed members of the armed forces in combat conditions. The meals are light-weight, take up very little room when field-stripped of their packaging, and boast 1,700 calories per ration. In addition, MRE’s taste pretty good which can be a great comfort to those of us who turn to food in a time of crisis.

My second choice for bug out food-stuffs consists of a variety of trail mix. Also light-weight, trail mix contains a decent amount of calories, protein, and fiber. Another benefit of carrying trail mix: you can eat and walk at the same time.

My least favorite of all survival foods is the dreaded energy bar, these things are just terrible. High in calories and other essentials, low in size and weight, this “food” is literally the bottom of the barrel when it comes taste. If I get to the point where I am forced to eat energy bars to stay alive, I’m not sure I’ll make it. (Does anyone want to trade lunches?) A high-calorie diet is a definite must-have on the road if you wish to continue walking it so, please, be prepared.

The bug-out-bag I keep packed “just in case” has evolved over the years since its conception but the basic necessities still remain. If I ever need to leave home in a hurry during an emergency, my BOB contains the items I will need to survive, at least for a while. I have tools to keep me safe from weather, the means to provide clean drinking water, and food to keep me moving. I am prepared; are you?

Author's Note: I did not cover protection because information concerning my chosen methods of protection and weapon details are best kept zipped up tight in my bug-out-bag but know this: you do not want to try to take my bag. Period.

Ghost-hunting for Dummies

The following piece is an essay I wrote last week for advanced composition class. Keep in mind, there was a particular formula I had to follow for the assignment so some aspects of paranormal investigation (obviously) have been omitted. However, I do enjoy writing about subjects that capture my interest and thus give you......

A Ghost-hunter’s Guide to the Galaxy

The Sy-Fy Network hit series, Ghost Hunters, makes the process of paranormal investigation look easy. The show opens with three T.A.P.S. members discussing the next case followed immediately by a music-backed montage of the team packing equipment into their vans. The next fifteen minutes of the program features clips of team members first touring then investigating the supposed haunted location using a variety of equipment and methods. T.A.P.S. members then spend about five minutes discussing their findings with the property owner; the entire case is summarized and edited into twenty-two minutes of footage.

In reality, quite a bit of time and resources are required to conduct these investigations and they are planned weeks or months in advance. A well-organized paranormal investigative team must thoroughly research the proposed location, then develop and execute a plan of action based on available resources, and finally come to a conclusion regarding the property’s “haunted or not” status. Consider the following a ghost-hunter’s guide for beginners.

The first, and most tedious, step in preparing for a paranormal investigation is conducting research on the property utilizing a number of sources. One excellent place to find information on a specific location is the Internet. Many haunted attractions have websites dedicated the history of the property and may include recent activity experienced by occupants, owners, customers, or ghost-hunters. Paranormal message boards can also be useful in obtaining information, however, an experience researcher does not solely rely on the Web.

Local libraries contain more reliable resources such as obituaries, death certificates, and coroner's reports; these records contain names of people who lived an possibly died at the location. Libraries also house years of newspaper archives which can be quite useful to determine information such as: whether the property was ever use as a hospital, morgue, or funeral parlor.

The most reliable source of information on a specific property is the United States Government. If a paranormal team has 120 days and a member with excellent clerical skills at their disposal then The Freedom of Information Act is their “Golden Ticket.” If the paperwork is completed without error using the proper terms the fruits of labor should include every document ever filed concerning the property in question and all persons connected to said location. A professional paranormal team should not arrive at an investigation without first completing their homework.

The second step in conducting a successful paranormal investigation is to develop and execute a plan based on the completed research; organizing the team’s resources is paramount. The first resource to organize in the plan-of-action is people (the living, not the dead); different people have different strengths and should be utilized accordingly. The team’s public relations/human resources specialist should be: contacting members to find suitable dates for pre-hunt meetings and drafting a docket of participating investigators; communicating with the owner/proprietor of the location to schedule a tour and obtain a list of “house rules”; and organizing transportation/rally points and departure times for team members. This person is responsible for assuring all dates, times, and information are correct so the investigation is not wrought with confusion.

The next resource to organize for an effective plan is equipment. The “Tech Manager” should use the information obtained through research to decide what devices will make the trip and where/how that equipment will serve the team best. Some devices are not suited for some investigations based factors such as: whether or not electricity is available (battery charging issues); if the location is in a noisy area (possible audio contamination); and total number of investigators attending (devices should not outnumber people).

The final and most important resource is, once again, information obtained through research. A team’s P.R./H.R. guru can use gathered information to assign specific duties to members based on an area in which they excel. The “Tech Man” should know where to place specific equipment for the best possible chance to obtain evidence of the paranormal based on the research files. Conducting an investigation without a game-plan sets the group up for failure.

The final step in an effective paranormal investigation is developing a hypothesis regarding activity and evidence discovered by the team and usually takes place over several days. The first task to complete is a post-investigation meeting that should happen immediately after the hunt comes to an end. Participating members, one at a time, will rehash the night’s activities and experiences while the remaining team members take notes. Experiences are then compared and possible natural causes for the phenomenon are discussed and noted. Notes are collected and added to the case files for later reference by the evidence review team, which brings us to the next step: evidence review.

The review team will spend the next week combing through every photograph, video, and audio file. Photographic evidence is reviewed first as it takes the least amount of time and the least susceptible to scrutiny. Videos are review next so reviewers can make notes on which team members were where at what time and compare any evidence with the case notes. Audio is reviewed last as it is the most time consuming and previously taken notes are needed to identify speakers and create time-stamps for relevance.

The final case meeting, which rounds out the entire process, is usually held a week after the investigation. At this meeting, the evidence review team reveals any obtained evidence to the rest of the group. Case files are reviewed and discussed at length and a vote is called. Each team member casts their vote aloud along with any final comments on the case and a decision is made: haunted, not haunted, or inconclusive. The investigation process is now complete.

Like many jobs featured on reality programs, the experts make paranormal investigation look easy. On the contrary, some of the most important (and time-consuming) steps die a quick death on the cutting-room floor during the editing process. Any team that stumbles blind into their first investigation is setting themselves up for disappointment and failure. Highly effective ghost-hunters often utilize three steps to ease the investigative process: research; plan development and execution; and conclusion. Happy hunting.

Your Argument is Invalid: Here is a picture of a Bunny with a Pancake on its Head

I am a bit fascinated, and not a little, by the fact that some people are so conflicted between their self-proclaimed righteousness and their own hatred towards people they claim to care about, that these people become defensive as they question their own belief system while waging a personal war against the core of my own being.

Case-in-point: while I neither identify myself as a member of the fundamentalist faction of the GOP nor a supporter of the socialist movement of the left, I do have a well-researched and non-partisan base in the issues facing the nation and world today.

I have currently, people in my life with whom I’ve always enjoyed a good banter or debate regarding anything from: welfare reform to human rights to animal rights to conspiracy theory. However, certain people (until recently) of said circles, have begun to pass judgment on my way of thinking things through and where I choose to volunteer my time because I have no particular party association (as most should not, in my opinion).

In the past months, I have received accusations regarding but not limited to: if I believe so vehemently in one cause and express interest in one issue then why do I not support the political party associated with furthering that cause?; you can’t possibly believe in operation “apple” and operation “orange” at the same time, that’s ludicrous; and my absolute favorite, “why are you so damn moderate? Get off the fence already and make your choice”.

My concern usually lies with the cause in question first, the political proponents for and against those causes second, and to the party in which they belong, not at all.

To expound further on personal, verbally violent attacks on my character and beliefs, I give you another case-in-point with-out details to protect the guilty. I recently brought to light a fatal flaw in a public figure’s main philosophy; the influential politician propagates (backed by millions in funds collected via donation and public, tax-funded coffers) that high school children should not receive any information regarding reproductive health including the risk of STDs and unplanned pregnancy.

One of many public/political figureheads supporting an abstinence-only (until the holy sanctimony of marriage, as it were) approach to education, this “hero” is proving the movement wrong by her offspring producing, not one but two, grandchildren conceived out of wed-lock because they lacked the vital information of how babies come to be. A person very close to my heart viewed my findings on the subject “hateful” and “judgmental”, then made those opinions know on a public forum via a bastardization of the biblical verse, “judge not, lest he be judged” coupled with derogatory name-calling.

This person continued to bombard me with a diatribe of seventeen-plus individual messages labeling (not only my views but my own self-worth) the aforementioned phrases as judgment on my character. This person went on to claim that the judgment and labeling of people were nasty characteristics (without any sense of irony), professed that tolerance and understanding were the true paths to enlightenment, and exploded with rage and hate when the word “hypocrite” was introduced to the conversation.

There are times that I wish people would simply have the courage and self-esteem to defend their argument by saying, “I don’t agree with you” and rebut with a valid reason containing arguments found through research of their own rather than revert to name-calling, labeling, and hypocrisy. Just be honest and say what you obviously feel “I hate your guts and no argument you produce, regardless of lucidity and reason, will ever be accepted by the likes of me.")

On a side-note, I should add that something about my personality rubs about one out of one-hundred people completely the wrong way. I accept this fact as truth and have discovered there is usually little-to-nothing I can actually do to make those people change their minds.


All I can do is tread lightly (walk on egg-shells, so-to-speak) and attempt to not upset that 1% of people that wish me a quick and painful death. Though I am well-trained in this self-censorship, I rarely reap any benefits from this behavior.

The people who have pegged me as a target for their ridicule and hateful lashings seem to always circumvent my efforts and find another outlet to bludgeon my beliefs, my life-choices, my passions, my likes, my interests, my spirituality, and the very core of who I was, am, and who I hope to be, in a (what I can only assume to be) vain attempt to break me so they can feel just a little bit better about themselves for a little while.

As promised...

Porch Time

Thanks to a break in the God-forsaken heat wave, I am able to spend some time on my porch tonight. My porch is one of my favorite (and newly remodeled) rooms in the house for a couple of reasons.

The first being: my cats love it out here. I currently have six cats living in my home and it can be a daunting task to keep all of them happy. With school, volunteer work, and projects for Lafayette Paranormal Research Society, I keep quite busy. Opening the door to the porch so my precious babies can take in the sights, sounds, and smells of the neighborhood is the easiest way to keep cat poop off my floors and my school papers, along with other documents of importance, in one piece (the youngest, Cassius, has a penchant for paper shredding, eating). In addition, I like to see my babies happy.

Another reason I enjoy “porch time” is the opportunity to air out the house. This Summer has produced so much gross weather that windows and doors have remained shut for, what seems (and smells), like decades. I find it difficult to sleep in a stuffy house; the outdoors smells oh-so-much better. The final, and most important, reason I like to spend quality time on my porch is the fact that I greatly enjoy people-watching. At least once a night (or day) something ridiculous takes place and on my porch, I have a front row seat for the action. In early summer, I witnessed a team of con-artists attempting to get motorists to help a young woman feigning an injury. When I called B.S., they quickly fled the area (I wonder if they were the same three criminals that killed that poor boy).* Last month, a seedy group of characters dumped their trash (along with one wallet filled with counterfeit currency) on my lawn in broad day-light.** There is never a dull moment in the vicinity of Kossuth and Main.

In short, I love my porch and I’m out here as much as possible (weather permitting). I look forward to the fall when I can enjoy it more often but until then, I will settle for little breaks in the weather and not look a proverbial gift-horse in the mouth.

* Featured in my blog in the post “Scenes”

**Featured in my “Notes” section on facebook under heading "Pay-back"

Why the Good Mood Food Guy Makes Me Stabby

Arby’s is multimillion dollar company with thousands of stores in dozens of countries that should be able to launch an ad campaign without sucking; Ad Fail! The Good Mood Food guy makes me angry for a couple of reasons.

First of all, the commercials are very, very stupid and not even a little bit funny. They make me want a Beef n Cheddar about as much as I want a root canal.

Second, the guy can’t and should not be allowed to sing. The dude is tone-deaf and the song is awful. Round three of my bout with Good Mood Food Man includes the fact that the words in the jingles don’t even rhyme. Some of the words are made up or unintelligible so I really have no idea what some of the commercials are even trying to tell me.

The final round of bashing the Arby’s guy is dedicated solely to the fact that I used to work for the company back when they had good commercials that were funny and made me want sandwiches. I miss the talking oven mitt; Tom Arnold was hilarious. The character was funny and a little bit naughty! In conclusion, I don’t like the.... Dear God, the commercial is on right now. Right now! I am so not kidding. I hate the Good Mood Food guy and I am changing the channel.

Morgan Freeman for President

In the next US Presidential election, I will be writing in the name Morgan Freeman as he would make a great President for myriad of reasons. To begin, Morgan Freeman has an honest face; his freckles are even noble-looking (not like Conan’s freckles that seem to emote a smarmy cockiness I’m not at all comfortable with). He has a smile that says, “listen to me; I know what I’m talking about here.” In addition to that winning smile, Morgan Freeman has a soothing voice.
In his future Presidential address, he could tell me the Earth was going to hit by a huge meteorite, that a deadly and incurable disease was recently released into the atmosphere, that he was God, or that he was Irish and I would nod, smile and say “yes, Mr. President”. Wait. Those were all movies. That’s okay though, I would still believe and do anything he said in that sweet, sweet voice of his.
Most importantly, Morgan Freeman is a solid pillar of awesomeness. He’s already proven that he can play any part; I don’t see why he couldn’t wear the President hat for just shy of a decade. He is smart and educated and, in my opinion, would make an amazing President of these United States.
I’m off to make “Freeman 2012” posters.

A Woman With Many Hats

I have a memory from about five or six years old. I was staying with my Grandma
(Mom's mom) and playing with one of her hats. She had dozens of hats and if those hats were still in the same place as they were then, I could probably line them up in chronological order and tell their amazing story.

I saw hats sporting high domes that appeared almost helmet-like in shape, made of soft felt encircled by satin ribbons. Some hats had fake silk flowers attached to those satin ribbons. I wondered, "why would a lady's helmet be made of cloth and not metal or plastic? And why the flower?"

Looking back to those innocent years, I remember some hats that were less dome-like but still had the basic sleek shape on top. These hats were brim-less and sprouted adornments even less practical than their felt, silk, flower-peppered neighbors. Many hats of this type had a black fish-net that, upon investigation, could be lowered or raised to cover part of the wearer's face. It made me think of a funeral....

Other hats were skimpier still; they were so small and non-hat-like that I asked Grandma why she kept these weird items with her hats. She told me that ladies used to pin (PIN!) these hats to their heads to keep them from falling off (I thought she meant they used the pins to pierce their skulls) and said, " Wow! Fashion can sure be rough on a girl! Bet that hurt!" She patted me on the leg and said something resembling pleasantries while most likely thinking, "my granddaughter is a dumb-ass. Good thing is: I love her, even if she's destined to use crayons for written communication for the rest of her life".

I miss my Granny! (I called her "Granny" once and she told me if I did it again, she would spank me.)

Oh wow, did she have some hats! I found hats that had fake fruit glued to them! I asked Granny (shush, don't tell), "What is going on with the fruit hats?". I told her it reminded me of the Chiquita Banana lady and she said people, at the time the hats were made, were so worried about [the] war that fruit was the happiest subject to talk about (and wear, obviously). I said that it was weird and she looked out the window for a little while. She looked sad.

Some of my favorite hats in her collection were small like the assumed hats that required a piercing to the skull in order to be fashionable. The main difference was that they were not just a fancy hanky. These hats were taller with the same "military-like presence" of the helmets but seemed a bit more suited for a lady. They reminded me of what a nurse would wear but adorned with satin and silk. I think she said my Grampa fought in a war but I didn't listen much. Back then.

I can still smell her sometimes, when I get a whiff of a perfume she used to wear or a soap she once used. And I see her face. Not the confused face her body was wearing the day she died but her "I'm about to get shit done" face. I see the face that used to put sugar in the spaghetti sauce and enlighten me on the benefits of prayer. I see the face that taught me how to sing. I see the face that taught me how to deal a deck of cards Vegas-style: the reverse shuffle that I still use today.

I miss Granny's (shush, don't tell) hats. If I had a place to keep them and a means to find them, I would line them up once again and take another look at the life lessons Granny gave me. . . . . . . .

My final essays: have a read, won't you?

Below are my final essays for my composition class. If you have a moment, please read and give any feedback for them. I'm shooting for a 100% in the class and just might make it with your help. Anyone who helps will receive a free cat. (just kidding, you can't have my cats)

Any thoughts on title for these bad-boys? My brain is a bit fried at the moment...


The Benefits of Group Study (exemplification essay)

Studying with a friend or group of friends is a very good idea for three important reasons. To begin, every student grasps material differently due to factors such as age, previous experience, and even language skills therefor a study group functions best with a diverse cross-section of students participating. More mature students tend to take classes more seriously and often have a firmer grasp on the importance of studying. Students with previous experience, either in the work force or prior scholastic endeavors, can bring real-life knowledge to the study table and apply it accordingly to a course of study. Students that possess superior verbal skills can interpret difficult concepts or ideas and simplify them, helping other students succeed. In addition, studying with a group of fellow students is much more enjoyable than simply studying alone. Students are more likely to make the effort to wake up three hours early if they know others will be joining them (one might even surprise the group with breakfast). Group study creates an aura of comradery which can ease some of the anxiety associated with preparing for tests and final exams. Groups can play knowledge enrichment games with pictures or flashcards which is, again, much more fun than playing alone. Finally, studying with a group creates friendly competition which can be quite beneficial to all involved. Comparing ourselves to those around us is a fundamental part of human nature and is a basic building block for success. Discovering the level of comprehension that fellow students possess allows others to aid them in their weaknesses while benefiting from their strengths. A competitive person will usually choose the highest scholastic achievers as his or her study buddies to achieve a higher level of success. In conclusion, study groups are a good idea due to: scholastic diversity benefiting all involved, fellowship among students creating an enjoyable atmosphere, and friendly competition driving individuals to perform at the highest possible level.



Writing (comparison/contrast)

Since beginning my Summer Quarter at Harrison College, my writing style and skills have changed drastically. Three months ago I considered myself a decent writer and I wrote almost daily, either in my blog or for school assignments. I quickly learned, in the first week of Com class, that my writing was unorganized and somewhat incoherent. The first speech I wrote for Presentation Skills earned me a dismal and disappointing B-. Once I grasped the basic formula for writing paragraphs and essays, my writing began to improve, slowly. I no longer considered “free-writing” my desired method of communicating the written word but rather tried to incorporate an outline into each of my writing projects. Then, around the half-way point in the term, I noticed I could make an effective outline in my head for smaller writing projects. My writing improved a bit more--along with my speech grades--and I started to feel more confident that I could succeed. The words were flowing much easier as I could organize my thoughts and ideas in my head before relaying them to the page. I also began to record myself reading my work so I could make last-minute changes if a particular passage or phrase sounded “off”. Now, as I write this very essay, I can look back to three months ago and see the improvements I’ve made and feel confident as I write. I suppose writing is like any other talenct or skill: once the basic concepts are completely understood then improvements can be made. I now feel comfortable incorporating my personality into my projects whereas I didn’t three months ago. If someone were to approach me on the street and ask, “have your writing skills improved since taking Com?”, I would have to reply, “look no further than my grades.”



Fast Food (argument)

There exists, in our country, an ever growing consensus that fast food is responsible for childhood obesity, adult obesity, and the over-all declining health of a nation; each of these facts can easily be deposed. First of all, a child’s health and weight is the sole responsibility of the child’s parents and not of any corporation. Critics of fast food argue that the “Happy Meal” is unhealthy for children and blame companies like McDonald’s when it’s the parents that choose to purchase them for their children. While I agree that fast food is quick and easy, that is no excuse for parents to feed their kids nothing but cheeseburgers, french-fries, and soda. Many fast food restaurants offer healthier choices like apple slices and 2% milk but the problem lies with parents not willing to tell their child “NO”. To expand on that concept, adults are responsible for making healthy choices for themselves as well as their children regarding their weight. A delicious, healthy salad costs about the same as the “evil” combo-meal and takes the same amount of time in the drive-through. Apple slices in place of fries is smart choice for Mom and Dad during the work day because they can be eaten in the car and don’t require short-term refrigeration or re-heating. Some adults go as far to claim they are addicted to greasy food yet refuse to exercise and burn those excess calories. The fault lies, once again, with those personal choices and is not the responsibility of an industry of convenience. Finally, heart disease, diabetes, colon cancer, and a myriad of other health problems are caused by poor choices, heredity, and environmental factors, not the institution of fast food. We know the cause-and-affect nature of poor dietary choices and the healthier alternatives therefor cannot blame a red and yellow-clad clown. The genes we inherit from our parents have an impact on our heath--just as much, if not more--than what we eat so unless your father happens to be an actor in rubber king costume, don’t blame him. That cute little girl with red hair and freckles didn’t put that cigarette in your mouth, force you to work in a mine, buy you a tanning package, or install the asbestos insulation in your home so withdraw the claws already. Let’s bag this issue and realize that class-action lawsuits and government intervention will not make your child a better athlete, will not bring you back to your high school weight, and will not improve your over-all health.

Exotic Feline Rescue Center

Hubby and I made the two hour trek to the Exotic Feline Rescue Center just outside Brazil, Indiana last weekend and it was definitely worth the drive! Dozens of volunteers and thousands and thousands of dollars make it possible for these mistreated, neglected and abused cats to have second chance at life.....

Since its founding in 1991, the EFRC has served as a nationally recognized leader in big cat rescue, conservation and care. In the past 19 years the EFRC has grown from its humble beginnings with only three exotic felines to today caring for over 230 cats, representing nine different species.

Shiloh the serval was seized from a crappy circus, parts of her "Run" are constructed from old circus rail cars.



Dakota the lynx.




These are two of three sleepy male lion that live together in a bachelor group, they've been together all their lives. They were so malnourished and poorly bred that they couldn't put their hind legs down at the same time due to shortened ligaments. One was always sticking out. Thankfully, all the cats have had corrective surgery.



This beautiful chocolate and cream tiger was born to a white tiger breeder where three out of four cubs are slaughtered at birth because they lack of the perfect white coat. She is a lucky survivor.



Omy Nom Nom



Vinny Bob is a lover, not a fighter. He's learning to walk on a leash and hopes to be an ambassador in an animal outreach program.




Am Water Sprite, not Tiger! Love water. Eat. Sleep. Poo. Pee. All in water. Yay water!



You and yer cameras ah not relavunt to mah intrust.



Hi, my name is Tom and I'll be your tour guide today. Please follow me and keep arms and legs away from the fences or my friends will eat you.


Please visit their website or, even better, make the drive to Brazil, Indiana and visit these beautiful cats.



http://www.exoticfelinerescuecenter.org/home.html

Bad dreams

I woke up Saturday morning and crawled to the bathtub to soothe my weary bones. I've been achy and sore for a minute and my bathroom retreat is better medicine that any of the prescribed pain-killers currently in my medicine cabinet. My husband came into the bathroom a short time later with a pained look on his face saying, "Leaner, Leaner, Leaner."

"What's wrong, Baby?"

"I had a horrible dream."

"I'm sorry. What was it about?"

"Well, its silly but I had a dream that you were Raptured and I was left all alone so I decided to go home to Massachusetts. To my parents. But when I got there my parents became angry with me because all I did was mourn the loss of you. It was a very sad dream".

He wiped tears from his eyes, sniffed a little and said...... "Honey, what's for breakfast."

Case in point: sometimes we are confronted with our greatest fears via movies, songs or perhaps dreams. Obtaining the perfect balance between what is and what might be is a delicate task. Be careful you don't forget to appreciate everyone that helps you become whatever you want to be.....

Higher learning is cutting into my blogging abilities

In case you haven't noticed, dear reader, I haven't been too custodial in regards to my blog as of late. The reason for this tragic and blatant disregard of enthusiastic blog-a-tude is the result of too much school work and for that I apologize.

It was brought to my attention, by more persons than one, that I seem to majoring in blogging this term as all my classes save one revolve around either writing or typing. That having been said, I was also asked why I haven't written anything new since week two of the current term, what with all the writing and presenting skills I'm gleaning from my classes. So I decided to share with you some of what I actually have been working on lately.


Below is the rough draft of a persuasive speech I am in the process of writing for my presentation skills class. If you have any thoughts or recommendations please feel free to message me or post them below. (And if my Communications facilitator is reading this I, once again, must admit I am double-dipping. This week's controversial topic writing assignment was way too awesome not to morph into a bad-ass persuasive speech. Am I wrong, Jason?)


Important disclaimer: the project below may contain information, observations or opinions not suitable for all readers. Anyone who knows me personally will notice I've crossed outside of my Prudy McPrude comfort zone in order to concoct a written presentation relevant to my interest in social behaviors and the fact that since I'm a medical student I will soon have to discuss these matters with patients without vocally spelling words like v-a-g-i-n-a. Deep breath.

Without further ado, I give you:

Teens Should Have Access to Reproductive Health Education and Contraception Without Parental Consent

Good afternoon. First, I would like to ask a question: by a show of hands, who in the room is currently raising a daughter? Excellent! For those of you with daughters, I would like us to do a roll-playing exercise. Let’s pretend that I’m your fifteen-year-old daughter (I know, it’s a stretch but please, bear with me). I’m your fifteen-year-old daughter and I just came home from school. I say to you, “Mom, Dad, we need to talk”. Are you dreading this conversation yet? As your young daughter I am dreading it more, trust me. “Mom, Dad, I’m pregnant”. Okay, by a show of hands; who’s freaked out right now? Let’s try one more. “Mom, Dad, I have herpes”. Now who’s freaked?

There is a growing school of thought and action advocating that teens should not receive any contraception or reproductive medical advice without written parental consent. Members of the health community are bracing for impact for the following reasons. A recent study conducted by the Journal of the American Medical Association, has found that around 20% of sexually active females under the age of eighteen would rather rely on the Rhythm Method (avoiding vaginal intercourse during approximate periods of peak fertility) or the Withdraw Method (or coitus interruptus, if you get my meaning) in lieu of having an uncomfortable conversation with one or both parents. (Jones, 2005) Unfortunately, this proposed legislation is riddled with dire consequences.
Jones, R. The Journal of the American Medical Association, Jan. 19, 2005; vol 293: pp 340-348.

There is an opposing belief that school girls under the age of eighteen should have access to contraceptive aids and reproductive education without their parent’s consent for several reasons. For instance, the denial of contraceptives to a sexually active teen (or teen that desires to engage in sexual congress in the near future) is not and never has been an effective deterrent for “under-age” sex. Young girls who know they are already grown, mature women will not abstain from sexual intercourse just because they do not have access to products that prevent pregnancy or the spread of STD’s. On the contrary, this denial can result in a sexually transmitted disease or surprise pregnancy. In addition, according the Reverend Clarinda Crawford, lack of proper sexual education can result in an adult woman who’s insecure and uncomfortable with her own persona and not the confident, vibrant woman who God intended her to become. (Reverend Clarinda Crawford of Congress Street Methodist Church)

In addition to the risk of STD’s and becoming the youngest grandparents in town, disclosing information to parents of young girls who request contraception and/or reproductive health education is a violation of doctor-patient confidentiality. The American Medical Association states that the Oath of Hippocrates is a code of ethics that all doctors are required to take before practicing medicine. Commonly called the Hippocratic Oath, it is designed to prevent physicians from divulging the medical treatment history of a patient to an outside party, this includes the parents of teens in almost every state in the US, for now. Patient privacy must be maintained regardless of age in order to continue compliance with the Hippocratic Oath. (AMA Code of Medical Ethics, http://www.ama-assn.com)

Finally, the common misconception that the bodies of girls in their mid-to-late teens aren’t developed enough for safe sexual intercourse or carrying a baby should be dispelled as a complete myth. Any physician not affiliated with the Religious Right can tell you that teens--more so than women in their twenties or especially thirties--often carry their babies to full term and give birth to healthy children with fewer complications than those ten to twenty years older. These babies are usually well-adjusted, calm infants and toddlers and are doted upon by their young parents and grandparents.

In short, denying essential contraceptive products to teens just because they do not have parental consent can and often does, result in pregnancies and possibly STD’s. Requiring full disclosure to parents of a teen requesting contraception is a blatant violation of doctor-patient confidentiality and reproductive education should be available to anyone, regardless of age, to insure your daughters won’t become tragic STD statistics and damage their bodies beyond repair due to the lack of a signed permission slip. "Sexual Health--Health of the Nation" Michael Adler, Sexually Transmitted Infections (2003, 79:85-87).

Does anyone have any questions? Or want to throw a rock at my head?

Other source cited: British Medical Association, BMA House, Tavistock Square, London WC1H 9JP, United Kingdom.


Another adventure in writing came last week when asked by Jason, my Com instructor, to produce a definitive paragraph. One fellow student defined the "know-it-all" (loved it)and I choose the Uber Aggressive Mommie-blogger (later changed to the Ultra-Aggressive Mommie-blogger. It seems Jason prefers English rather than German as the language of choice for us fledgling writers).

I again welcome any constructive criticism either int he comments section below or via personal message or e-mail.

Disclaimer: Please do not take personal offense to the body of work below. Much like my persuasive speech this was conceived purely out of academic necessity and is not the inner window to my heart and soul but rather a casual grouping of observations via contact with--literally--hundreds of people in benign hopes of an awesome grade.

I give you, dear reader, The Definition of the Ultra-Aggressive Mommie-Blogger:

An ultra-aggressive mommy-blogger is a mother (or possibly father) who constantly shoves unwanted information about her or his children down other people’s figurative throats while acting aloof either in person or in written form.

For example, some mothers feel the need to Tweet, or blog or update their facebook status every time their child has a bowl movement or says a word, any word at all. Or when I bump into a lady I haven’t seen since high school, I don’t really need a twenty minute diatribe on the first seven years of her child’s life or how motherhood is so much better than attending college or having a career. At least I can block them on facebook, at the grocery store I’m all but trapped.

Another habit of the ultra-aggressive mommy-blogger is instructing other parents in how to raise their kids utilizing words like “always” and “never”. For instance, one mother will say to another, “I always make sure my kids are in bed by seven p.m.” or “I never let my children have sweets.” It is almost impossible to use the words “always” and “never” without stretching the truth and some parents use them incessantly.

And finally, the behavior I abhor most in the ultra-aggressive mommy-blogger is the belief that anyone who chooses not to have children is somehow deficient morally, financially, or socially. They can’t seem to wrap their brains around the idea that not all married couples want to have babies. A small percentage of parents actually become defensive or even combative around couples who have chosen to be child free.

To summarize, the ultra-aggressive mommy-blogger shares unwanted information with anyone in which they come in contact, can come across as brash and bossy toward other parents and occasionally becomes somewhat hostile when around couples who are child free.

Here are a few of the comments from my fellow classmates; the names have been changed to protect anonymity.


I like your paragraph although some of the words i couldn't understand or even know what they mean, but at the same time i thought that your paragraph was very true. -Bambie

I do like your paragraph I thought it was very true, the writing is done very well just that some of the words used couldn’t understand.-Chelsea


I love this! I think it is very well writting! And also so true, I hate when people over due their kids! Lets say “work on transitions!” lol-Linda-Lee


I hope you, dear reader, can understand why I've been neglecting my blogging duties and can appreciate that school is awesome and I would be a student for the rest of my life if it paid a dime.

Welcome, Faith Korbel to the list of followers (please don't judge me as a heathen).

To the lovely Reverend Clarinda Crawford (is that even your title?): thank you for the insight into human sexuality from a spiritual point-of-view.

To Gretchen, Aubrey, Ashley and Kirsten; please don't divulge the subject of my persuasive speech until I have a chance to speak with Ann to find out whether or not its suitable for our hyper-sensitive classmates.

And to all the mommies out there, young or not so young; please do not misconstrue my meager attempts at writing assignments as the end-all-be-all of what I think or feel personally. I'm only able to write what is pulsing through my brain at the time words are needed to obtain another glorious "A".

Culinary Douchebaggery

I really haven't done my fair share of grocery shopping (read:none at all) so no one but me is to blame for the following story.

When I came home from class today I was starving. Left-overs from last night? Nope. Milk? Eggs? Nada. Anything in the fridge worth eating? At all? Hell no!

Hummm. Hum. Hummmm. Laaaaaa. Laa. La... Nothing in the cabinets either. Damn! I peek around the kitchen door toward the pantry a mere eight feet away. There's a problem lying between me and the yummy yummy food inside that door. I smelled the poly when I got home but my fears were now confirmed as I hatefully stare at the blue painters tape marking exactly where I can and can't walk. Josh finished the new floors today. And guess where I can't walk!! Gahhh!

Fine. I return to the kitchen to rifle through the cabinets yet again. There really is quite a bit of food in there but most of it's in box form and requires milk to make plastic-tasting cheese. Well, what do we have here? Spam? Really? I double-check the expiration date because I definitely don't remember buying Spam. Seems safe enough.

I don't know how to cook Spam. I don't even remember ever eating Spam. So I sliced it up and fried it in a pan. EVOO, a little spice and some pepper-co-jack cheese. Toast the bread in another pan. Mayo on one slice, Sweet Baby Ray's on the other.. Ummmmm it was absolutely awful! Culinary fail number one for the day.

After I slept off my death sandwich I decided I really was going to eat something. An entire jar of pickles sounds good. I'll have that. Oh man, there weren't as many pickles as I thought. Better go get the other jar!

Dear god! I'm ill. I need food and I need it now. Popcorn! I'll have popcorn and go to bed. It's my favorite pre-snooze snack. Whenever I'm feeling sad Josh always offers to bring me a minibag to cheer me up. And this has been a sad day, indeed!

Yay! Popcorn! Something I actually want. Can I have two minutes on the clock please, Mr. Amana? I stick my head in our giant pots and pans cabinet to get my popcorn eating bowl just as I hear popping (not popping as in corn going "pop pop pop" but rather as in "I think the fucking microwave is on fucking fire" sort of "pop pop pop"). I bash my head on the counter on my way up from the pots and pans abyss. There are lights flashing in my eyes and in the still rumbling microwave.

I pull the plug out of the wall and punch Mr. Amana in the face. Well now what? I peek back around the corner at the pantry. It's almost as if I'm planning to sneak over there or something, like doing this might help in some way.

Lightbulb! I'll just wet down my feet a little and even if the floor is not all the way dry I can still get over there and grab some food. Ha! So smart! I run to bathroom on the other side of house as if I weren't just standing three feet from the kitchen sink when I had this revelation. Wet feet. Run (not sure why I'm running again, perhaps it ties in with the "sneaking up on the pantry" plan) through living room. Fall down. Get up. Check feet for wetness. Still wet. Ok.

I make it back to the dinning room, managing to not fall down and take that first tiny step across the blue tape. Hmmmm. Doesn't feel sticky. Good. Step, step, step, pantry. Whoo-hoo! I throw the door open and grab the first thing I see and run (sigh) the eight steps back to the kitchen and notice I've grabbed something that pretty much has to cook in the microwave. Fail number, I dunno six or something.

Back to pantry. Grab. Back to kitchen. This time I've managed score a can of Campbells Chunky Clam Chowder. Yummy! Can opener, lift drop squeeze.... No click/hiss sound. Try again, lift drop squeeze.... What the deuce? No click? No hiss? It's a ring-top can but without the ring. My husband must have broke the ring off then put the can back. Zomg! Clearance too huge for can opener. Jesus H. Macy, I'm doomed! Again. Fuck!

Nonono. I'm not about to give up on Chunky, no way. I even get a pot and turn on the stove to kinda wish myself luck. Grab hammer. Grab butcher knife. Several cuts and abrasions later soup is simmering. Yes! Stir stir taste. Hmmmm. Something is wrong and I wonder if perhaps I've permanently damaged my taste buds eating garbage. Try again. Stir stir taste. Shit. Retrieve can from trash. Double shit. The label says stuff like "Salt-free!!!!!111" and "heart healthy". Whaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!

Panic panic panic. So hungry! Ok. Add sour cream (after I pour the ucky water/oil mixture that always accumulates in the sour cream tub into the trash) salt, lots of salt, pepper, garlic and the last of my taco cheese. Still taste like paper mache. That's it. I'm going to Taco Bell like I should have six hours ago when this culinary debacle started even though I really should be going to the grocery store to get proper food.

O'Doyle Rules!

I can't believe it. Don't want to admit it. I'm in my thirties so it hadn't crossed my mind as a possibility. But it's true. And now I have to deal with it.

I. Have. A bully! Or a reasonable facsimile.

For those of you who don't know I am once again a full time student currently in my second term at Harrison college. New classes started last week so I'm acquainting myself with brand new material, three new instructors and some classmates I've yet to meet. Classes at Harrison are centered around participation and group learning which I love. People with my personality type tend to thrive in that type of environment. What can I say? It combines my two favorite things: learning about interesting subjects and running my mouth.

I first noticed a person had taken interest in me Tuesday of last week. I would make a comment or answer a question and would immediately here a mumble from the opposite side of the room. I didn't think too much about it; people mumble all the time. None of my business. Right? Right. Besides, I wasn't sure who was speaking let alone what was being said.

Thursday I really began to see a pattern. I identified my attacker and deciphered some of the comments. While this person voiced her overall disdain for the class, the instructor and the material at random, specific negative remarks were landing after my comments in iambic pentameter. Today the activity escalated yet another notch.

Me: atomic number = number of protons in the nucleus. atomic mass = total number of protons and neutrons.

Facsimile: pishhhahh.

Me: I remember it this way, protons = pro = positive, neutron = neu = neutral.

Facsimile: yeahwhateverthatmakesnosensewhatsoever. Sheshhhhhhh.

Me: at one point I had to memorize the table of elements. All except for the lanthanides and actinides (after being specifically asked a question by the instructor).


Facsimile: didanyoneelseunderstandanyofthat, no? Ididn'tthinkso. Pishhhhaahh!


I should probably throw in that another person in our class is so into chemistry that every time he opens his mouth even the instructor gets confused. He might as well be speaking Sanskrit. He vomited a particularly obtuse string of words that had the whole class reeling so I offered to translate for him which was well received by the entire class save one.


Facsimile: ohjesuschristyouhavetobefuckingkiddingme.

I wouldn't go so far as to say I get along with every person that knows me; I won't say that everyone I meet likes me right away. But I do know that once in awhile, every two or three years I meet someone that absolutely hates every bone in my body and wants me to know it. I know I rub some folks the wrong way so-to-speak. I'm an adult and I handle it.

A particularly difficult concept came up and I was once again specifically asked by the instructor if I had a different way to approach the subject and I said "nope". Three faces turned to me as if to ask "why not?". "I don't want to make this harder for anyone. I just don't think I can explain it so everybody will understand." Two more faces. "I don't think I have anything instructive to offer.". Five pleading faces. "Sorry", I mouthed in a whisper. "I'm done for today."

I spent the remainder of the class paying attention, answering questions in unison with the rest of my classmates, feeling dejected, smug, angry, sad and awesome at the same time. When class dismissed I gathered my things and a few fellow pupils I didn't even really know gave me a nod or smile. One girl I'd never even talked to said something along the lines of "when exactly did you take a shit in her cereal?"

As I was leaving the instructor pulled me aside, asked me to stay after for a minute. Uh-oh! I knew for a fact that I wasn't in trouble but just like it's been about a hundred years since I've had a bully it's been even longer since I've officially been asked to stay after class.

It seemed to me that everyone was taking their damn time leaving the room and I started to feel rather sick to my stomach. I had to present the first speech of the term in front of many many people I didn't know in less than two hours.

A hot mess, I was!

Hours later it seemed everyone was gone save my instructor and me. Now I really like this particular teacher; she taught two of my classes the previous quarter and we have a great rapport. She thinks and relates material a certain way because that's the way she understands it. I am her polar opposite. I process information like a young child or someone with a learning disability. I take what I find easy and build up to greater concepts utilizing mnemonic devices, movie quotes and visual diagrams. My learning techniques are often silly and funny and she likes that about me.

Ms. Awesome Instructor pleads with me not to shut down. Asks me if I know why
Facsimile is attacking me. Wants to know what I think about the whole situation and if we knew each other. I assure her I have no idea who the hell she is and wonder about it myself.

She then asked me a question that really shook me. She asked if I wanted her to take Facsimile aside and speak to her...... And I'm thinking: I'm 30 (something) years old and the teacher is keeping me after class to ask me about why I'm being bullied and do I want her to intervene.... Fuck!

No no no. I tell her I will handle it myself if the behavior continues or escalates. Besides, with an attitude like that, Facsimile will most likely quit
before the end of the term anyway.

Pranky-pranky!

It has come to my attention that I rock trashcans! That's right, I use my superpowers for good instead of evil these days and I decoupaged (glued stuff to other stuff) the hell out of that garbage bin. I'm thinking of making an art portfolio featuring this and only this as "my work". I'll then offer my services as an "Artist" for sale on etsy.com. Photos yet to come.

But that's neither here nor there. I've called you all together because I'm ready to confess a few crimes I might have committed as a teen (high school and college). Kim, you inspired me! Names and specific locations have been omitted to protect the guilty (and the powned).

Window prank

Crew: 3-4 (you could do it with 2 if you had to but I wouldn't recommend it unless the occupants are on vacation and there's little to no police presence in the immediate area)

Tools: lock pick, credit card or spare key

Materials: 1. occupant's towels, linens and scarves 2. Anything not nailed down

Location: 3rd floor or higher apartment or dorm (also works with a second floor bedroom but again, would not recommend)

Objective: use sheets and towels to hang the occupant's possessions out the window. They either walk into what looks like a burglary where the bandits escaped via window by way of sheet or they come home from class to find their thrift shop dining set dangling on the side of the building. (Go ahead and disassemble the bed frame if there's time.) Either way it's win win!

Forkin'

Crew: depends on how much time you have

Tools: none

Materials: forks. Lots and lots of plastic forks

Location: someplace with a big ass yard (no dog)

Objective: It's pretty simple. Impale entire yard with forks (tines up or down, doesn't matter) until the yard is full or you run out of forks

Changing Rooms

Crew: 1-4

Tools: most likely none unless you need to remove table legs or headboards (I always carry a multitool and an alan wrench)

Materials: a 3-prong adapter if you choose to move the fridge

Location: house or apt interior

Objective: Take everything (not nailed down) from the living room, dining room and kitchen and put it in the bedrooms. Take everything from the bedrooms and put it in the kitchen, dining room and living room.

Note: if you decide to move the fridge stick around for awhile and make sure the breaker doesn't trip!

Other little pranks that can be fun;

Put a fake wedding announcement in the local newspaper

Put someone's house up for sale

Make fliers for free puggle puppies complete with phone instructions to only call between 11pm and 5am only

Steal a doorknob (or two)

Take the wheels off someone's car

Sign someone up for Amway, STD dating networks etc.

Disclaimer; Married with Kittehs takes no responsibility for any pranks past or present and if any of the above pranks befell you at some point, it wasn't me!

Rants and stuff

While I was cleaning the oven, I noticed I was able to identify the exact meal that produced each little splatter. Shows you how often I actually cook. Sad.

Went to the mega-bookstore today with Hubby. Spent the first eight minutes looking at books and the next 25 looking for Josh. I hate the mega-bookstore.

I hate it when the douche with the new car parks across three spaces like an idiot. I used to know someone who did naughty things to cars parked like that. Later in life said person used to just leave notes under the windshield wiper saying, "you would not believe what my friends and I used to cars parked like this. Stop being a prick!".

It sucks that moms buy padded bikini tops, trashy clothes and whore-y make-up for their very young daughters, toddler to tween. Dunno about you but I get creaped-the-hell out when I see an 8-year-old wearing a tee-shirt that says: "Mommy's Little Whore" and "Donkey Punch." (I shit you not, there was a cartoon donkey on the damn shirt!). And the vey thought of a kindergartener with cleavage makes me all throw-up-y.

I don't like it when Chuck Diesel idles outside my bedroom window, playing horrible music really friggin loud on his crappy speakers that make his whole car vibrate and buzz at midnight when the light is red at the corner of Main and Kossuth. I feel old.

The fact that I picked up my new TV three weeks ago and have yet to call the cable company to get HD makes me wonder what the hell was so important in the last 21 days that I've been unable to get this done. I feel lazy.

I've been back to work for one day )One day!) since I started school and I feel like I fell down a flight of stairs. My hair even hurts. I'm feeling old again. On the other hand, I did get decoupage a trash receptacle today. Never did that before!

The Indiana State House of Douchebags voted today that homosexuals are no longer human and are not entitled to human rights. Whoopee for dogmatic bigotry! (It's okay though, sooner or later these pricks will get busted banging their 19-year-old intern, Lance, or sending a string of naughty texts to their boytoy in Belize. Radical homophobia usually indicates.... well we all know what that indicates ;))

Scenes

Sh*t I see from my front porch...

Thanks to the break from crappy weather I was finally able to enjoy my font porch for the first time this Spring thus closing out my St. Patrick's Day in typical partygirl fashion. Sitting with my four cats as company and having a nightcap I watch the evening unfold.

The week so far had been rather rough with two final projects due and hours of studying for next week's exams coupled with the fact I haven't been sleeping well. And when I say "well" I mean very very little. And when I say "very very little" I mean not at all (just ask the bags under my eyes and lines on my face that I had no idea existed until recently).

I was fortunate enough to attend a social gathering in the evening for great food, thought provoking conversation and beer that might or might not have contained green olives (the beer itself wasn't green, something about the dye doesn't agree withe me. Perhaps it reminds me of how filthy the Chicago river looks when she's dyed green. Yuck!).

After returning home I made my little camp on thee porch (where I'm again sitting now) so I could enjoy my nightcap, my kitties and the sights, sounds and smells of the neighborhood. I'm again and again amazing by what transpires right in from of my house.

I saw what looked like a drug deal take place on the playground across the street (either that or the shifty gentleman under the monkey bars was selling boot-leg copies of Windows 7 whilst his companion in the late 90's Caprice Classic complete with $2,000.00 spinner rims looked on with interest). Two dudes sauntered up to each other slowly, nodding their heads this way and that. They spoke briefly, exchanged what each of them had in their pockets, nodded some more and parted ways. One gentleman walked off into the darkness while the other returned to the car.

I saw several vehicles full of St. Paddy's Day party-goers with arms waving out windows plus the occasional driver who had one hand over his left eye so he could see the road a wee better. I saw four. Four. Police Cruisers coast up to the red light at Kossuth and Main before flipping their lights on to idle through the intersection, continuing to coast at 10-15 MPH for a couple of blocks before rolling slowly out of view. I thought a saw a little bunny rabbit strike one of the cruisers from behind.

I saw a black Lincoln limo pull over so a girl could puke in my neighbor's yard. The other occupants tossed a sack of garbage out the door before dragging Pukey McPuke-face back into the car. I hope that poor girl gets the vomit stains out of her hidious bride's maid dress. On a side note, a couple I had the pleasure of sharing fellowship with tonight was celebrating their 11th wedding anniversary. I hope I'll be able to spend as many years with my falcon.

I heard a kitty-cat mewling at the door and it looked like my Audrey was locked outside. I went out to coax her though the door and she just wouldn't come to me even though I called and brought her a treat. I finally lunged and caught her. As I was carrying her back to the house I noticed something strange. "Strange" being that the cat in my arms was definably not my cat. I had my suspicions when the cat I was currently toting seemed a bit heavy and that her fur wasn't quite as soft as it should be. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw my Audrey-girl in the window. She and the other three cats were pitching a huge fit! It's almost like I could hear them screaming "don't bring that thing in here! Admiral Akbar thinks it's a trap". So I set the little guy down and pet him for a few (yeah, guy, un-nuetered male :( ) and gave him a can of my best chow then sent him on his way. Home hopefully.


I saw people jogging, people biking,a dude on skates wearing a patch work quilt as a cape. I'm not sure if he was wearing pants. I saw a cop pull a taxi over. I think I caught a glimpse of the fox that chills in our neighbor's yard from time to time.

I saw a girl sporting a backpack and a big 'ol duffel bag, an over-pronounced limp and no purse. I worried that she might be in trouble but something about the scenario didn't seem right to me. Akbar's clever words echo in my ears.

My options flip though my brain like toilet paper on the roll when you accidentally spin it wrong way. I wonder if she's running away (because that's exactly what it looks like) from an abusive person. I wonder if she's scared or hurt but I also wonder if she was setting someone up. So I kinda crept across the parking lot and hid on the playground where it would be nice and echo-y when I started to yell.

"Yo! You with the big bag, are you okay over there?"

She immediately looks around, "Where are you?"

Crouching I yell, "you need help?"

She's still looking around for the source of my voice, "Where you at? You live around here? Which house is your's"


I am so outta there. Something just did not seem right about this girl. I scamper as low as my current level of physique will allow, back to my house where I slip in the door unnoticed. I watch her from the porch. The girl throws down her bags and makes a phone call but the only word I hear is "hurry" (she's still looking around for me). A sedan full of men pulls out of a nearby ally and picks her up a moment later. She tosses those "heavy" bags into the back seat and hops in after. I've noticed her limp has completely disappeared. They quickly drive away. Off to grift someone else, I guess.

My neighborhood is an endless source of entertainment.

Edit; as Hubby and I enjoyed dinner at cousin Mike's Maple Corner in Covington last week we overheard the bartender and a server debating on the recipe of Irish Coffee. Coffee, cream, Jamison? Coffee, Baileys, whiskey?.... Coffee, a Lucky Strike and a bowl of dirt?

My Joshua piped up and asked "Anyone know what's in a Northern Irish Coffee?"

Everyone shrugged and looked at him like he was crazy.

"C-4, potatoes and peat moss."

And then he walked out of the building not even waiting for a response (or for me).

......Still snickering over that.

Hot? Or not?

"So, is your husband really hot?" This question is posed to me almost every time I meet someone new or bump into old pals. "Is he good-looking?" I recently wondered why Attica/Fo.Co./college/swim camp/fellow world-travelers that knew me when (applying the appropriate "when" depends on the proverbial "who" of course) and people I meet in my new life as a full-time student seem to squeeze this question into conversation almost immediately. When I started to think about these questions (that to me seemed a little inappropriate and shallow) I began to think back on how I've answered said questions. How I answered them three years ago and how I field these queries now varies. And bothers me quite a bit.

Before I divulge whether he is hot or he is not, riddle me this: is physical attraction so important to us as mortals that we are willing to throw away the possibility for true love for the chance to have a gorgeous God-like human at our side? Do we, as the human race really want to out-mate our nearest or most hated same-sex rival? It is common knowledge that people secretly, if not openly want to attract a mate with good genes and blood-lines? So I suppose I understand why people ask me but why is such a high priority? To find out how handsome my husband might be?

So I ask myself: "why does this question keep coming up (in my opinion) very in appropriate times?". I took a hard look at my life thus-far. I looked back at every person I dated, every man I've dated and even every person I've ever been close with as just a friend. And I discovered something that shocked the hell out of me: I have always surround myself with beautiful people (and I'm not talking about beautiful on the inside here, I'm talking really good-looking people). It's almost like somehow I thought just because a bag of shit was wrapped up in a pretty little package it was no longer a bag of shit. I really took a look back and am ashamed of who I welcomed into my heart and soul based on how they looked and made me feel when I was around them. Ashamed. Ashamed for myself and ashamed for the people I possibly enabled into thinking their good looks could out-weigh their short-comings and shallowness. (And let's face it, sometimes people are just plain mean.)

I'm not admitting to being a bad person just that I was once shallow too. But I'm not anymore, I know who I am and surround myself with people that love me for that. Sue me.

Back to how I would answer the big question, a question I heard almost as much as "when ya gonna have some kids?". I would and have said the following...

-He's a bit different
-He's unconventionally cute
-It doesn't matter, he is the love of my life
-I'd rather not talk about it
-He looks good to me
-He's my soul-mate
-What does YOUR husband look like?

I now know after racking my brain for the appropriate and truthful answer is that and only that he is the only person I've ever known to take me fully for who and what I want to be without trying to mold Eileen into their idea of the perfect mate, friend, daughter, sister. He gives me my space when I need it. He holds me when I cry over stupid shit. He yells with me to do better when I know I've failed and need to hear those words to move on. In almost every way he lets me be who I know I need to be and is along with me for the ride that is my life. And I am lucky!

Is my husband hot? I have better questions. Is he a wonderful, uber-intelligent person worthy of your conversation? Are you worthy of his affection? I hope you are because if you fail his test, if your are shallow and unworthy of his attentions and mine, if he knows from the time he meets you that your only intentions are to take and never give then you will not have the pleasure, the honor of knowing him. Of knowing us as a nation of two. And we rock!