I used to hate Bill O’Reilly because I thought he was a horrible person, but now I hate the people that put him on TV every night. Because it’s obvious to me that he’s mentally handicapped and the producers and writers and directors that continue to broadcast his shit are obviously exploiting the fact that he will say things that are just, for lack of a better word, retarded. Honestly, I feel bad for him.
Semi-related: I’m now thoroughly convinced, and I’m not the first person to speculate this at all, that Ann Coulter is a long-running piece of performance art who has brilliantly infiltrated the Right to spew nonsense at them, which they LOVE and which befuddles the Left because we’re stupid and can’t take a joke. You can’t tell me otherwise.
Fred Phelps is also performance art. Seriously. Watch closely, people. This is a cultural revolution in progress. It’s like Cecil B. Demented but way fucking stupider. And I don’t think Stephen Dorff is involved.
The baby is doing much better today and is just thrilled to be doing shots of that pink, bubble-gum-flavored amoxicillin. I believe his exact words were, “God, I LOVE this stuff!”
It is good and I don’t see why all medicine can’t be flavored that way.
I am also feeling a little bit better. I scolded myself this morning for phoning it in as far as school goes the past few weeks. I know I’m behind, but I don’t know exactly how far behind because I don’t want to look and face the facts. Mature, no? But I’m doing some reading and stuff now…well, aside from this short break to write about how studious I am.
I’m just really burnt out on my bloated schedule. The past few days I had tossed around the idea of dropping a class, but realized that would be pretty stupid since I’m practically halfway through the semester now.
In the fall I’m only taking one “real” class and that will be such a huge relief. Then I’ll take two courses in spring 09, probably another required course in summer 09, one more elective in fall 09 and then I’ll be done. Somewhere in there I have to squeeze in an internship, which will probably end up being some kind of project through my job since my grad program knows that I can’t exactly do an unpaid internship for 3 months. I have a taste for the finer things in life, like eating and having a roof over my head.
The husband and I watched The Crazies last night, which is a George Romero flick from 1973. It’s set and was filmed in Evans City, which is also where he filmed Night of the Living Dead. I’ve always loved NotLD and Dawn of the Dead, but I’m really starting to get into the look and feel of Romero. We watched Martin a few weeks ago, though admittedly I didn’t make it to the end. It was getting late and I find that I get panicked watching movies in which someone breaks into a house because, uh, someone broke into our house. But anyway, that’s not the point. Romero’s films that are set in and around Pittsburgh are so very Pittsburgh. The actors all seem to be fairly local and there doesn’t seem to be any alterations made to the sets.
What is so striking about the films from that time period is that they seem to be plucked from my memories of what Pittsburgh looked and felt like around the time that I was born, when the steel industry was gasping its last breaths and the city was depressed and kind of…stale. Watching those movies I can almost recall the smell. Beer and work boots, metal lunchboxes, and the scent that men have when they’ve been outside. It’s uncomfortable but at the same time pleasingly nostalgic. It’s really hard to describe.
Grunt. I should get back to being a hardcore student.
The baby was up at least three times last night crying due to the pain in his ear. I gave him Tylenol once but the subsequent times he came to me in tears I had to turn him down because I wasn’t sure how much time had elapsed since his last dose due to me being unconscious. I try not to encourage ODs in my kid. I’m a good parent, what can I say?
So, that was kind of heartbreaking. And so was telling him that I wouldn’t be able to stay home with him because I have both of my classes today. Sigh. But the mother-in-law took him to the doctor and he has not one, but TWO ear infections. Amoxicilling we will go.
Oh, but on the upside, my mom stopped by and brought me samosas and they’re sitting next to me making everything smell all heavenly and potato. I’m trying to save them for dinner tonight but drooooooooooooool….
I think the season is really getting to me. I’m so utterly bummed out all the time.
The baby’s situation with his lungs/sinuses is really getting me down. What’s especially frustrating is the fact that we haven’t been able to get in to see his regular doctor so we’ve been seeing this other doctor in the practice and I think he may be a quack. He keeps insisting that the baby has asthma and I just don’t buy that. And last week the baby licked his lower lip a whole bunch and made the skin raw, but the doctor tried to say that it was compulsive, even though it was an isolated incident. I’m starting to sense a drug-pushin’ vibe, but I do watch things like Frontline a lot.
It’s just so frustrating that he was doing so well on the medicine and then like two days after he was done taking it the cough and mucus came back.
And if he does have asthma, what the hell? I keep reading about how our germaphobia is contributing to the rise of allergies and asthma in children and I purposely let him be “dirty” (I’m also lazy and that seemed to help) so that he could build up his immunities and everything. I don’t make him wash his hands every five seconds and I don’t carry hand sanitizer with me everywhere. Now he has allergies and maybe asthma, as well? Augh.
I don’t know. Like I said, I’m extremely bummed out all the time and I don’t want to do ANYTHING. I don’t want to work or go to school or parent or wife. I just want to drink and watch videos all day. I guess that’s not such a healthy attitude is it?
Guess what I did on Friday? It involved wheels and lots of testosterone and patriotism. Indeed, I went to Monster Jam with the husband, the baby, and the sister-in-law.
It was…alright. Certainly, the most interesting part of the evening was the prelude, in which the announcer came out and started paying tribute to all of the firefighters and policemen and “the troops in Iraq who are fighting for our right to be here at Monster Jam tonight.” No, seriously. He said that. That’s why we’re over there. Monster trucks. Now, I’m a cynical bizatch but if I was a soldier and someone told me that I was fighting for a bunch of jackasses to go see monster trucks, I would probably kill a whole bunch of people. Or myself. Of course, they then brought out an enormous flag for the national anthem.
Rough couple of days. There’s too much going on with work and school and the sheer amount of stuff that I have to do makes me want to sleep. The situation with my mom got better…and then it got worse. That also makes me want to sleep. The laundry is piled everywhere and the sink is full of dishes. Yesterday it took us almost two hours to get to work. The baby’s cough was better, but now it seems to be back just as bad as it was before. I’m starting to worry. His school called me because they felt he should go home. My mother-in-law is picking him up. I want to go home, too.
And, it’s Valentine’s Day. Fucking hell. I guess the husband and I aren’t doing anything for it, but since I know he’ll be reading this, I’ll go ahead and post a little valentine to him. The video is cheesy, but the sound is the same.
Since the wind chill was -7 last night, we busted out the super thick half of this insane comforter I bought at Ikea a couple of years ago. Normally we can get by just fine with the thin half, but since walking back to the car from Wal-Mart led to my experience of having my breath taken away by the frigid wind, thereby preventing me from shouting at the assmunch who had the audacity to honk at the frozen pedestrians from inside his heated car, we decided to bust out the big polyester guns.
I didn’t so much fall asleep as slipped into a coma. And, frankly, cocooned up in my bed is where I still am.
But I managed to take my folder of W2s, 1040s, and FAFSA forms to enrollment services, push it across the counter and say, “Here. Turn this into $2,000 please. I don’t know what I’m doing.” I’m attempting to not gnash my teeth through the tax-paying process of my graduate education and I’m thinking one of them thar fancy student loans will be just the ticket. Not that I’m terribly excited about adding some more debt to my pile, but it needs to happen.
Speaking of taxes, I need to file them shits so I can start stimulating the economy. It’s all up to me, apparently.
I also trekked to my mom’s office and hashed some things out with her. See, I told her that it would be better for us to wait to talk to each other until after I had had some time to calm down and she had a chance to speak to someone not in our deranged family (read: a pro). Lo and behold, our conversation was civil and productive. It did not end in my mom crying and me getting pissed at her, as every other serious conversation of ours has. See? I don’t know why people don’t listen to me all the time. I’M BRILLIANT.
“Mum, it seems like…I’m standing on the ceiling and the ceiling is the floor and the floor is the ceiling, and you’re sitting on the ceiling…floor. Upside down. And I’m…ceiling. Doesn’t it?”
