Finger Lickin’ Con

Do you ever stop and wonder just how gullible people are?

Seven Herbs and Spices and a $30,000 check for Internet Extortion.

Yes, it is finger lickin’ good, but you’ll have to go elsewhere on account of your face.

I had to stop and wonder about this, again, when I read about the Internet Outrage of the Week, Little Girl Kicked Out of KFC. Quick summary: Grandma claims heartless Kentucky Fried Chicken KFC workers kicked her and her three year old granddaughter out of some Kentucky Fried Chicken KFC in Mississippi after another customer complained about the girl’s disfiguring facial scars, suffered back in April when the girl was attacked by Granpa’s pitbulls. Auntie posts the incident on Facebook, donations flood in to the tune of $130,000 and Kentucky Fried Chicken KFC promises $30,000 and an investigation.

I read the story and was reminded of previous Internet Outrages of the Week.  Perhaps you remember the Red Lobster waitress,Toni Christina Jenkins, in Tennessee who logged onto Facebook to post a picture of a customer’s receipt with the N word written in place of a tip amount. And just to show that the Northeast, home of Eastern Elitism, is not immune to this phenomenon, Dayna Morales, a waitress in New Jersey, claimed that a customer wrote this novel note on the receipt in lieu of leaving a tip: “Sorry, I cannot tip because I do not agree with your lifestyle and the way you live your life.” Morales must be the last living person not to have a Facebook account so her story did not go viral until Have a Gay Day posted it on their Facebook.

Now my curriculum vitae includes the double misfortune of having waitressed and also worked in the fast food industry and all the stories sounded, well, odd to me when I first heard them.  My experience one long, horrible summer working as the “Fry Girl” (I scooped french fries into their cartons during the lunch rush) at Wendy’s™ had taught me that customers who eat fast food want to eat food fast, they don’t sit around the dining area observing the other patrons to determine who might offend their sensibilities enough to disturb the digestion of a Junior Cheeseburger Deluxe, ordered off the Dollar Menu (since my sojourn at Wendy’s™, there’s been a name change and it’s now the Right Price, Right Size Menu and it costs you a $1.49). And also, fast food workers lack both the initiative to respond as well as act on customer complaints, so if someone did complain (which was unlikely), it was hard for me to believe that an employee of the restaurant would do anything.

As for waitressing, a few customers tip well, a few don’t tip at all, but most give the standard 15-20%. No one ever wrote me any offensive messages on the receipt, unless we count that dorky guy who wrote his phone number that one time. Considering the sort of waitress I was, someone probably should have taken a moment to give me some helpful career advice such as “You suck!” on the tip line.  Diners are more concerned about the food, their date, whether they’ll make the movie on time, why their car makes that weird noise every time they turn right, or just about anything other than their server. I really doubted that someone would communicate their racism or homophobia using the forum of a restaurant receipt.

Here's some money, Internet Stranger.  I hope you feel better.

Here’s some money, Internet Stranger. I hope you feel better.

As you may have guessed, both stories turned out to be hoaxes: the Red Lobster customer came forward to proclaim that he was no racist, just cheap, and had stiffed the waitress and wrote nothing on the tip line and a New Jersey couple contacted the news media with their copy of the receipt showing an $18 tip on a $93 check and no reference to “lifestyle.” Unfortunately, the stories weren’t debunked until Jenkins got $10,000 and Morales $3,000 from strangers on the Internet who had heard about their (fake) plights.

And I suspected this KFC story would turn out to be untrue as well. By Wednesday, the results of the internal investigation were released. From the Washington Post“Viral Story of Disfigured Girl Kicked Out of KFC Was a Hoax”:

Security camera footage from that KFC and another near the hospital did not show children matching Victoria’s description going into either restaurant on May 15, according to sources interviewed by the Leader-Call. Nor did any orders taken that day include both sweet tea and mashed potatoes – what Mullins claimed she ordered for her granddaughter.

I guess my interest in this story and others like it comes from the fact that we are so quick to believe the worst about our fellow human beings (“Of course some idiot complained about a scarred girl, and of course the idiot fast food workers kicked the poor girl out!”) and also our willingness to give money to strangers on the Internet, while we walk by homeless people warming themselves over heating grates in Center City Philadelphia (ok, maybe you haven’t done that, but I’ll admit that I have).

Or maybe I’m the one who’s believing the worst about my fellow human beings when I’m skeptical about the story of a scarred girl in Mississippi.

Tin Pan Anniversary

Like a railroad train bearing down on me in an episode of a silent movie serial, my wedding anniversary is fast approaching.

I’ve long struggled with what to give my husband for the day that will live in infamy our anniversary and find myself consulting those lists of traditional gifts each year.  You can find out what you’re supposed to give (or get) every year here. For those of you who don’t know how the internet works, I’ll provide the list for the first ten years of marriage:

  1. Paper
  2. Cotton
  3. Leather
  4. Fruit, flowers
  5. Wood
  6. Sugar
  7. Copper, wool
  8. Bronze
  9. Pottery, willow
  10. Tin
I knew I should have gotten him the DVD!

How am I supposed to wrap this?

Looks like last year I was supposed to give him a piece of pottery or a willow.  A willow?   Yes, a willow.  I wonder if that means the tree or the filmI guess it doesn’t matter since we both forgot our anniversary last year.  About a week later I finally remembered that I’d forgotten, but since he didn’t even remember that he forgot, I decided to save this bit of information to use against him in our next argument (“Not only did you leave the toilet seat up, but you forgot our anniversary, you bastard!”)

So this year it looks like I’m supposed to give him something made of tin.  Amazon.com suggests the “luxurious” Bentley’s Finest Tea Classic Collection Tin Gift Set (certified Kosher!), as well as tin cufflinks and a photo frame (“Cheap looking and definitely not what was expected” writes one disappointed purchaser).

I guess any of those ideas would be better than what one Pennsylvania couple decided to do together to commemorate their three-week (here I am, worrying about what to give for ten years of marriage while other couples celebrate their marriages as a weekly event!) anniversary.  From the NY Daily News:

They celebrated their three-week wedding anniversary and Veteran’s Day by killing a man for the thrill of it, according to police.

Elytte Barbour, 22, and his 18-year-old bride, Miranda, are charged with murder for the Nov. 11 killing of Troy LaFerrara, 42, a man who answered the woman’s Craigslist ad offering companionship in the form of “delightful conversation.”

I’ve warned you all about Craigslist before in the posts You Really Can Find Anything on CraigslistAdventures in Babymaking and Too Stupid to Live but I guess poor, doomed Troy LaFerrara was not a follower of Do Not Get Sick in the Sink, Please . Let his life (and death) be a lesson to you all to keep on following my blog.

As if murdering a stranger off Craigslist to celebrate your anniversary isn’t shocking enough, Mrs. Barbour is now claiming to be a mass-murdering Satanist.  Because, you know, why not?  I’m sure she has nothing better to do than think up crazy bullshit while lying around her cell waiting for trial.

As for me, I’m lying around wondering if it’s too much to hope my husband will forget about our anniversary again this year.

Royalty free stock photos including the image in this post can be found at Stock.XCHNG.

A Different Sort of Hunger Games

I can’t decide what I find more amazing about the news story, Woman Sets Speed Record Eating 72-Ounce Steak: is it the size of the steak (four and a half pounds!) or the speed it took Molly Schuyler to eat it (four minutes!)?

There used to be a reality show on the Travel Channel, Man v. Food, in which the host took on eating challenges at restaurants around the United States.  On one episode he ate a bucket of chicken wings, on another episode he ate a gigantic burrito–you get the idea.  I first discovered the show when I was pregnant and ravenous and nauseous (all at the same time) years ago.  The show has since wrapped production but it airs endlessly in repeats so you can still catch it if you want to watch a guy eat a whole mess of not-always-appetizing food.

Here’s a bit from the episode filmed in Philadelphia where he ate a giant cheesesteak, natch.

I like burritos and chicken wings and steak as much as the next non-competitive food eating woman, but just last week at Outback Steakhouse® I dithered over whether to order the 6 oz. or 9 oz. filet.

My Patient Bloke Husband:  How hungry are you?

Sheila Me: I’m pretty hungry.

No Rules. Just Right. Wait, there is one rule. You have to eat it all in four minutes.

My Decisive Bloke Husband: The nine ounce.

Sheila Me: I may not be that hungry.

My Five Year Old Joey:  (pointing to the 20 oz. Porterhouse) I want this.

My Nine Year Old Joey: You can’t get that.  You have to order off the Joey menu.  (pointing to the 24 oz. ribeye)  I’m gonna order that, though.

Outback Server: Are you folks ready to order?

My Annoyed Bloke Husband: They’ll both have the Grilled Cheese-a-roos.  She’ll have the 9 oz filet and I’ll have the New York Strip.  And a Classic Steakhouse Martini.  Make it a double.

Needless to say, I didn’t finish the 9 oz filet (I knew I should have ordered the 6 oz!) and I can’t imagine a scenario in which I could scarf down 72 ounces of beef, like Molly Schuyler did. And she weighs 120 pounds, so she ate 1/27 of her weight!  She’s sort of like those ants who can lift 50x their own weight, only instead of heaving that grain of sand to the very top of the anthill, she eats it!

You can (still!) watch episodes of Man v. Food on the Travel Channel.  Check your cable listings for dates and times.

The image in this post comes from the Outback Steakhouse® corporate website and is believed to comply with fair or acceptable use principles established in U.S. and international copyright law.

The Daily Prompt today:

Click over to whatever website you visit most frequently to get news. Find the third headline on the page. Make sure that headline is in your post.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us a CURRENT EVENT.

Rocky Mountain High

In case you missed it in all the New Year’s excitement over North Korea’s Kim Jong Un’s greatest decision, ever, or that other Kim, Kardashian, surrounding her infant daughter with choking hazards, it looks like we can now buy and sell (and smoke!) weed in Colorado without going to prison for the rest of our natural born lives.

There’s a neat little photo gallery over on the Washington Post showing all the potheads law abiding citizens rejoicing.  You can view the photos here. Like me, I’m sure you’ll find the photo of the father and son waiting in line together to buy dope on New Year’s Day particularly heartwarming.

This isn't even a gin rickey, it's a photo of a martini!

Just add some rickey to that gin and you’re all set.

My handful of experiences with marijuana all came during college in desperate attempts to be thought of as cool, or hip, or at least not the awkward girl.  I thought smoking pot was another step (like drinking coffee, having sex, and ordering a gin rickey) I needed to take in order to transform from this gawky girl into a sophisticated woman.  I also wanted to be a writer and I felt my life thus far had not provided me with the experiences I needed in order to have something about which to write. Surely, smoking pot would give me something to write about!

And it did: this blog post.

So it was with more excitement than trepidation that I agreed when Eric Penderton asked me if I wanted to leave a party and go outside and smoke pot with him.  And because I wanted to walk on the wild side but not get too wild, I insisted my room mate, Julie, come with us.

Eric reluctantly agreed and the three of us tramped outside to his Hyundai Elantra where Eric was

disappointed a second time when he got in the front seat by himself while Julie and I got in the backseat together.  Eric took his stash from the glove box, lit the joint, and then passed it to me.  I inhaled, held the smoke in my lungs as instructed, and passed it to Julie before exhaling.

Me:  (exhaling) Do you feel anything?  I don’t feel anything.

I probably would have fucked him if he drove a nicer car.

This is what your Hyundai smells like.

Julie:  I don’t feel anything.

Eric:  You have to wait a minute.  Sheesh.  (passing me the joint) Take another hit.

Me:  (after repeating the procedure) I still don’t feel anything.  I don’t think it’s working.  Can it not work?

Julie: (eyeing the joint suspiciously) Are you sure this is marijuana?

Eric: Of course it is!

Me: (giggling)  Maybe it’s not even marijuana!  Maybe it’s a Marlboro Light he just gave us!

Julie: (laughing) Or a Pall Mall, like my grandfather smokes.

Eric: (through clenched teeth) Get out of my car.

After that experience, I realized gawky girls who have smoked weed aren’t all that different from gawky girls who have not smoked weed.  My experience smoking pot left me mostly unchanged, just with a lingering acrid aroma.

I have to wonder if marijuana would have had the same allure if it had been legal. I found that drinking alcohol became much less fun after I turned twenty-one.  Now that it’s legal there, will smoking pot in Colorado, instead of being edgy and dangerous, become just another activity co-opted by the masses, like wearing Uggs?  Will smoking weed be as fun when our parents are doing it?  They’ve already ruined Facebook.*

*Your parents didn’t ruin Facebook.  It already sucked.

Royalty free stock photos including the images in this post can be found at Stock.XCHNG

Maybe Marriage is More than a Sneaky Trap Keeping Me from Other Men’s Penises

I was watching the very poignant videos of gay couples about to marry over on the New York Times website and it got me thinking about how much marriage meant to them, and how I was shallow and terrible and the worst human being ever because I never really wanted to get married.

I wanted to get engaged.

Mazel tov!

Doesn’t really care that I’m engaged (but he’s going to hear about it anyway)

I wanted to wear a big rock on the ring finger of my left hand and show it to all my friends, and maybe even that guy who lives out on the street over the heating grate, and say, “Yes, it’s true.  My man wants to marry me.”

As it turned out, I wound up with a ring that featured a really tiny diamond surrounded by even smaller diamond chips, the money for which I think my poor medical resident husband fiancé boyfriend raised by selling his blood plasma.

I was so ambivalent about actual marriage, however, that we went along with our engagement and never set an actual wedding date.  We lived together, got pregnant (one time, then a second time) and still we wandered along in this perpetual state of “engagement.”  Sure, we even went so far as to get a marriage license but then it sat on our kitchen counter for a month, and then into a second month.

“You know, this license is only good for sixty days,” I mentioned to my husband boyfriend fiancé one day.

“So?” he said.

“If we don’t get married by the end of this month, we have to get a new one.  And that will cost another sixty dollars,” I said.

"You mean this isn't good for a free turkey?"

“Sorry, ma’am. We only accept manufacturer coupons here.”

Long time readers of this blog know I am cheap frugal, so they will have already guessed that we ran down to the Justice of the Peace and used that marriage license like it was a Buy One Get One Free coupon for Quilted Northern Bath Tissue about to expire.

I have to confess that as I watched the videos of these long time couples who are finally able to have their commitment publicly recognized and sanctioned, I got a little teary-eyed and I started to think that maybe marriage is a beautiful thing.

Royalty free stock photos including the images in this post can be found at Stock.XCHNG.

I Probably Should Not Give Marital Advice (No, really I should. I was right after all)

Since Liam Hemsworth is now out there tongue-kissing some other girl and Miley Cyrus has stopped following him on Twitter, I guess we can now officially declare the Cyrus-Hemsworth relationship over, finished, done, kaput.  Back in March,  I blogged with some pre-marital advice for Miley and when she stops sobbing and eating all the Ben & Jerry’s, I hope she gives this old post a look.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

A huge diamond AND Liam Hemsworth.

The actual size of Miley Cyrus’s engagement ring diamond.

I guess I’m relieved that Hannah Montana’s Mylie Cyrus’s wedding to Liam Hemsworth is on again, at least according to her Twitter feed, where she posted a photo wearing a huge rock her engagement ring. From the Daily Mail:

Without making mention of the return of the bling, the singer posted a picture of herself at a photo shoot with the ring back on late Tuesday.

Wearing a onsie between takes, Miley made sure to have her bejeweled hand front and centre of the shot.

Captioning the photograph – which was made up of two pictures spliced together – ‘It’s a onezie PARTY (of one)’ what Miley really meant it is a ‘I’m still engaged party’.

Like every parent, I have mixed feelings about Hannah’s Miley’s impending wedding.  Are you thinking right now that you’re  a parent and you don’t care one bit about the Cyrus-Hemsworth nuptials?  Ok, so maybe I’m not like every parent.  Maybe I’m the only one who feels this urge to sit Miley down and have a heart to heart talk about this major life decision she’s making.  I imagine it would start off something like this:

Me: You’re not pregnant, are you?

Actually, I don’t know what advice I would give Miley.  According to the Knot Yet Report, Americans are delaying marriage, with the average age of first marriage at historic highs (women, 27 and men, 29). At 19, Miley is an anomaly (her betrothed is 23).  Of course, in other countries, parents breathe a sigh of relief when their daughters finally (finally!) get married at 19, and don’t shame them by stubbornly clinging to spinsterhood into their twenties.  I like to remind my own two daughters that they are lucky to have been born Americans, otherwise they might be married and starting their own households by now.

He has a nice personality.

Your Yurkanian husband.

Me:  You know, when I have to pick up your dirty laundry off the floor, again, it makes me wonder how you would manage in South Yurkania, where girls your age spend the whole day toting water from a stream just so their husbands have something to drink!

The eight year old can’t always tell when I’m joking, but she laughs anyway while hoping her father would never allow her to be sent to South Yurkania (would he?)  The toddler, who has a marginal understanding of English beyond the words “No!” and “Mine!” laughs because Mommy always says funny things, and surely this is another funny thing that Mommy has said.

I got married when I was 23, a few years older than Miley, a few years younger than the average.  I guess I wish I could tell Miley that those four years mattered, that I gained wisdom and experience that made me a better wife and mother.  Then I look at a picture of Liam Hemsworth and all I can think is:

Me: God, is he hot!

Royalty free stock photos including the images in this post can be found at Stock.XCHNG.

You Can’t Take It With You But At Least You Can Make Them Fight Over It After You’re Gone

Including the broken Weedwhacker in the garage.

Someday all this will be yours.

On days when I am feeling particularly mortal, I look at my daughters across the small, round dining room table located in our small, 900 foot square house and sweep my arms around our surroundings to encompass the fruit bowl full of over ripe bananas as well as the pile of dirty dishes in the kitchen sink while saying, “Some day all this will be yours.”

My daughters are not sure how to respond to this dubious bequest, and no doubt they’re hoping that before my husband and I kick the bucket, we move the family into a much larger residence with a fenced yard so they can have a dog and a swimming pool.

Since the only items of value they’ll inherit from me is an incomplete collection of Precious Moments figurines and a sock full of Susan B. Anthony dollars, I take some solace in the fact that at least my children won’t be fighting over my estate, unless it’s an argument along the lines of “I don’t want it.  You take it!”  “No, I don’t want it, either.  You take it!”

The same cannot be said for the potential heirs of American zillionairess Huguette Clark who died in 2011 after spending the last twenty or so years of her life being cared for by employees at Beth Israel Hospital in New York City, even though she had long ago recovered from the skin cancer that had hospitalized her back in 1991.  She stayed living at the hospital until she died at the age of 104 because she liked it there. More evidence that the rich are different from you and I.  We only get to stay in the hospital until our insurance runs out.  (Of all the truly bizarre elements of this story, I find the fact that she lived at a hospital as though it were a hotel the most incredible.)  Now that she’s dead, Mrs. Clark’s relatives are showing more interest in her than they ever did when she was alive: they’re contesting her will.  From the Sunday New York Times:

In pretrial proceedings, huge amounts of energy have been spent establishing whether each of the 19 living relatives contesting the second will had ever met or spoken to Mrs. Clark, and if so, when and for how long.

The answers are sometimes comical. Clifford R. Berry III, known as Kip, a veterinarian in Florida and a scion of a horse-breeding family who is in his 50s, never met Mrs. Clark. Others say they saw her in 1945, 1954 or 1957. The last time any of them remembers having seen her in public seems to be in March 1968, at the funeral of Mrs. Friedman’s grandmother at St. Thomas Church, on Fifth Avenue. Mrs. Clark greeted her bereaved half-sister, Mrs. Friedman’s great-grandmother, and other elderly relatives, then left.

HUrry up and die already!

I can’t imagine why I was cut out of the will!

I’m not sure how the court will decide; in most cases of contested wills, judges are loath to go against the last wishes of the decedent, but it’s easy to imagine how elderly heiresses might be manipulated in their final years.  When she was 98 years old, Mrs. Clark executed two wills, signed 30 days apart.  The first gave everything to family.  The second will cut the entire family out.  I suppose the plaintiffs’ attorneys will argue something happened in those thirty days between the two wills (a bump on the head?  A brief, torrid affair with a caretaker? Maybe the second will was intended to be a practical joke?) that caused Mrs. Clark to lose her mind and decide to leave her fortune to her faithful employees rather than a pack of vultures.

You can read lots more about Huguette Clark in the book Empty Mansions: The Mysterious Life of Huguette Clark and the Spending of a Great American Fortune.

Royalty free stock photos including the images in this post can be found at Stock.XCHNG.

Helpful Tips for Tweeting: Don’t Threaten Rape or Murder on Twitter

#rape #murder

#rape #murder

As an American with a Twitter account, I’ve watched with curious alarm as anger over the decision to put Jane Austen on the £10 note has risen to levels where opponents of the 19th century author were threatening rape and murder on the Twitterverse.  From a story in the weekend edition of The Washington Post, “Twitter Apologizes to women abused online“:

Hours after successfully campaigning to have a woman — Jane Austen — featured on a new British banknote, Caroline Criado-Perez was bombarded with rape and death threats. The vast majority came via Twitter.

Who knew Austen could raise such passions in the British public that they would feel the urge to Tweet criminal threats?  And do Americans even know who is on our ten dollar bill? The answer is no, we don’t, but I think it’s Alexander Hamilton Andrew Jackson nope, looks like it really is Alexander Hamilton.

While I don’t think selecting Jane Austen is enough of an outrageous act to drive me to rape and murder, I am kind of baffled by the decision, as Jane Austen is the author of some of the most annoying novels in the English language.  I can say that having read absolute no novels by Jane Austen, as I am an American, and we don’t really need to experience anything in order to have an opinion about it.   Anyway, I’m not reading any Jane Austen, so forget about it, even if you threaten to rape and murder me.   I didn’t read her work in college even though I’m sure I was assigned at least one of her novels (Sense and Sensibility, maybe?  Pride and Prejudice?  Boredom and Agony?  Ok, I made that last one up), and yet I still managed to graduate with a degree in English Literature.  Yeah, the American educational system really is fucked up.

So I’m no fan of Jane Austen but still I think threatening rape and murder over putting her face on a £10 note is a little extreme.  I mean, can’t you just pay with a £20?  And always demand your change in £1? Do you really have to threaten rape and murder?  I’m offering a reasonable solution, and you’ll avoid incarceration and the loss of your Twitter account.

Now I’m wondering what would happen if some American tried to replace Andrew Jackson Alexander Hamilton on the $10 with a woman.  Instead of threats of rape and murder, there would probably be actual rape and murder.  I can’t even think of a woman who could possibly be so uncontroversial in American history that the idea would not be met with a vicious onslaught that would make the entire island nation of Great Britain tremble in the face of our American ferocity.  Oh, yeah, we’ve tried sticking women on coins before with the Susan B. Anthony dollar and then the Sacajawea dollar, but you can see that went over so well I have nothing but George Washingtons in my pocket today.

You can follow me on Twitter @WPKarenBrowne and I promise I won’t threaten to rape or murder you.

The image of the Twitter bird appears with permission.

I’ll Never Be a Member of the Mile High Club

I haven’t flown for a number of years because having children ruins not only your sex life, but also your travel plans.  Anyway, I used to fly regularly for work, enough so that if I never step onto an airplane again it will be too soon.  Why the airlines continue to ratchet up the level of discomfort their customers must experience is beyond me, unless all airline executives are hired from an employment firm that specializes in providing sadistic bosses.  I imagine the folks who run these companies get together for weekly meetings to devise new torture.

Where there is a will, there is a way.

How are we going to have sex in here now???

Evil Airline Executive #1:  Let’s take away their electronic devices!  They’re all addicted to their smart pads and their robot phones and if we prohibit them from using them during flights, they’ll suffer brutal withdrawal symptoms before their fight to Albuquerque even takes off! (Curbs on In Flight Use of Devices Under Pressure)

Evil Airline Executive #2:  Let’s make the seats smaller! (Airline Passengers’ Complaints Rising as Seats Get Smaller)

Evil Airline Executive #3:  Let’s make the bathrooms smaller! (Some Delta Onboard Loos Get Smaller)

Is it me, or does it seem like airline employees really are determined to make the experience even more miserable than it already is?  Witness two recent news stories, Mom says flight attendant ‘humiliated’ her for using breast pump in the air and Man Sues Airline Over Soda Spat.

Now I realize both “victims” in these stories are pussies overly sensitive, and they’re probably just filing nuisance lawsuits in an effort to squeeze a few thousand dollars out of the airlines, but why do the airlines leave themselves open to this sort of litigiousness?  What kind of training do airline attendants receive that tells them it’s ok to get into a confrontation with a mother over the use of a breast pump, and to argue with a passenger over a can of Coke?  I realize the guy with the soda was being a total dick, but someone needs to explain to me how the flight crew reconciles in their own brains that the electronic ordering console embedded in a seat back will not bring down the entire flight with its use, and yet a Medela breast pump will.  And when does being a dick customer (I’ve been a waitress, so I know from dick customers) mean a person should be detained by a small army (eight officers arrived to question Soda Guy when the flight landed) of government agents?

The Tsarnaev's considered a breast pump, but eventually settled on a pressure cooker packed with explosives.

Weapons of Mass Destruction

I nursed both my daughters, so I really sympathize with the pain and discomfort the mom who was not allowed to pump went through on that fucking flight, which probably felt interminable.  I think that mom showed remarkable restraint by only filing a lawsuit.  Had I found myself in the same situation, I probably would have gotten into a fist fight with the flight attendant, and wound up being shipped off to Guantanamo Bay as an enemy combatant.

The images in this post are from Wikimedia Commons, a freely licensed media file repository.  

I Probably Should Not Give Marital Advice

A huge diamond AND Liam Hemsworth!

Miley Cyrus’s engagement ring diamond (actual size, but not actual diamond).

I guess I’m relieved that Hannah Montana’s Mylie Cyrus’s wedding to Liam Hemsworth is on again, at least according to her Twitter feed, where she posted a photo wearing a huge rock her engagement ring.  From the Daily Mail:

Without making mention of the return of the bling, the singer posted a picture of herself at a photo shoot with the ring back on late Tuesday.

Wearing a onsie between takes, Miley made sure to have her bejeweled hand front and centre of the shot.

Captioning the photograph – which was made up of two pictures spliced together – ‘It’s a onezie PARTY (of one)’ what Miley really meant it is a ‘I’m still engaged party’.

Like every parent, I have mixed feelings about Hannah’s Miley’s impending wedding.  Are you thinking right now that you’re  a parent and you don’t care one bit about the Cyrus-Hemsworth marriage?  Ok, so maybe I’m not like every parent.  Maybe I’m the only one who feels this urge to sit Miley down and have a heart to heart talk about this major life decision she’s making.  I imagine it would start off something like this:

Me: You’re not pregnant, are you?

Actually, I don’t know what advice I would give Miley.  According to the Knot Yet Report, Americans are delaying marriage, with the average age of first marriage at historic highs (women, 27 and men, 29). At 19, Miley is an anomaly (her betrothed is 23).  Of course, in other countries, parents breathe a sigh of relief when their daughters finally (finally!) get married at 19, and don’t shame them by stubbornly clinging to spinsterhood into their twenties.  I like to remind my own two daughters that they are lucky to have been born Americans, otherwise they might be married and starting their own households by now.  

Me:  You know, when I have to pick up your dirty laundry off the floor, again, it makes me wonder how

He has a good personality.

Your South Yurkanian husband.

you would manage in South Yurkania, where girls your age spend the whole day toting water from a stream just so their husbands have something to drink!

The eight year old can’t always tell when I’m joking, but she laughs anyway while hoping her father would never allow her to be sent to South Yurkania (would he?)  The toddler, who has a marginal understanding of English beyond the words “No!” and “Mine!” laughs because Mommy always says funny things, and surely this is another funny thing that Mommy has said.

I got married when I was 23, a few years older than Miley, a few years younger than the average.  I guess I wish I could tell Miley that those four years mattered, that I gained wisdom and experience that made me a better wife and mother.  Then I look at a picture of Liam Hemsworth and all I can think is:

Me: God, is he hot!

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