sweet and sour

I show up for my Karate Internship right on time but he's already gotten started, I walk in and see a bunch of boys, a few girls, and M. Karate Guy looks at me and says I brought her this time, just like that, no warmth and sort of defensive maybe. I look at the clock and inwardly groan. I wonder why Karate Guy is hating already and then I figure I can't really blame him.

I'll help I say and he says okay and points over at a group of boys. Keep them in line he says. So I walk over to the little dudes, boys I think are maybe in the range of 9-12 years old. They are off the hook, karate chopping each other and being generally unruly. I stand between them and give them a look. Dudes, I say. I'm watching you.

They don't seem to care and keep on being little shits so I stand between them and tell one of them to go sit against the wall. The rest of them look at me askance. I'm not messing around I say and one of them sticks out his tongue at me.

I decide boys between the ages of 9-12 can be little fuckers. The only experience I have with kids of multiple ages is from my work, and kids at the shelter could be little creeps too but I suppose I cut them some slack. These kids have it pretty good, being housed and all so I figure there's no going easy. I break up two more going at it and make one of them hold my hand.

That pretty much did it, if a girl wants to completely freak out boys between the ages of 9-12 I suppose you make them hold your hand. So it's working long enough for Karate Guy to get started, he's paying extra attention to M and I can't tell if he's making a point or just being cool because she's the smallest one there. So I figure since I'm here I might as well learn something, I do some of the exercises and frequently position myself between my boy posse breaking up random acts of dumbassery. He puts them through a few paces and things are going well until one of the boys calls another one fat and all heck breaks loose. The kid who was being teased gets really upset and to be honest, the kid who was calling names wasn't super slim himself but whatever, I grab that dude's hand and he shuts his mouth. I do all the regular things one does with the other kid when one's feelings are hurt and he's not really having much of it but did start laughing when I took the other dude's hand so I think we are okay.

It's nearing towards the end and Karate Guy asks me to be a "shark" so the kids can be "fish" or something like that, I don't really know what the hell he's talking about but it involves tagging them as they try and run past me which I can do pretty well but some of these kids are also pretty fast, so maybe they should be called "eels" but whatever.

So the class ends and Karate Guy tells the class that this week was much better than last week and I'm of course thinking it's because he had back up, the hand holding kind of back up and he turns to me and says thanks and asks if I can come again next week. Only if there's beer after I say and I think he takes me serious and you know, maybe I am because as I said before boys between the ages of 9-12 can be little fuckers, but they are also pretty cute and so I tell him I'll come next week. He looks at me and says you know, I didn't realize M was so upset last week, the teachers told me she was crying and I thought about punching him in the arm just because he's being kind of dorky but then he leans down and talks to M and apologizes directly and tells her how good she did and that she has real promise and I don't know that I believe him but I lost the urge anyways because he's really a very nice guy doing something nice for these kids and if I were him I'd want as few kids in the class as possible too.

kung fu this

I signed M up for karate weeks ago and she's been over the top excited ever since. The class is offered at her school right after her class is over so as far as I knew it was settled, she was going from class to karate and I was going to the gym. With my mix tape.

So feeling spry and earphones in place take me down to paradise city where the grass is green and the girls are pretty I arrive at her school and head to the room. I was excited all day knowing she was finally getting to do this. So as I'm walking in a guy comes walking out and for some reason I had a feeling this was the instructor so I say, Hey, are you the karate instructor, I'm looking for my kid. Her name is M and he stands there looking perplexed for a minute and says, oooohhh...M? Yes I say and he says Oh, wow, I had so many kids I couldn't handle them all so I left her in her class.

You what? I say and he says he's sorry and for some reason I reach over and punch Karate Guy in the arm. He looks a bit taken aback by this but you know, whatever. Look dude, M's been looking forward to this for weeks, did you at least tell her why you weren't able to take her? Um, no, he says. So I punch him in the arm again. So you just ditched her, and now I get to go pick her up and have her cry?

I'm really sorry he says. Do you want your money back? No, dude, I want you to teach my kid karate.

He looks a little sheepish. There's too many kids, he says. I can't handle them all.

What do you need to do about that, I say? I need a helper, he replies.

Fine, Karate Guy, I'll be your helper. He smiles and reaches out his hand and introduces himself and I do likewise and for a minute I decide Karate Guy is actually okay and he's also really, really cute. And I'm surprised he is actually getting this close seeing as I've already punched him twice. But he does and we settle it. I'll do this thing. Not sure what this thing is, but I'll do it anyways.

I find M and when she sees me she breaks into tears. I didn't get to go to karate! she says.

I lean down and pick her up and hug her. Dude, I know. I've already told Karate Guy how lame he is and she starts laughing. No you didn't! Oh yes, baby, I sure did and I tell her the story but I leave out the part about hitting him twice and she's happy now, especially now that she hears I'm coming to karate too. I'm not sure what I've gotten myself into, but something tells me it'll be amusing at least. And I figure I could do with learning some karate too. Maybe it'll even take away the uncontrollable urge to punch people I've just met in the arm. Twice.

i'm a mix tape in a sea of mp3s

I brought my ipod to the States but forgot my cord. I figured it didn't matter because I don't know how to download music anyways but then I started working out and holy mother I've been doing some long overdue rocking out and all the indigo girls in the world can't meet me there.

I was sharing my lament at my friends' this weekend, two of my most favorite people in this world. I've been hanging out with them a bit lately, my kid loves their kid and I love them and they are the only two people I know in real life who read my blog. So they let me borrow a cord and three hours of computer time later I downloaded all the stuff I liked when I was seventeen or twenty seven and while I am sure there is better stuff out there I dare you to prove it.

Bad Medicine: Who can't relate to this? Love IS like Bad Medicine. But we Like Bad Medicine. I actually saw Bon Jovi on my birthday one year, on a first date with an older guy (not usually into older guys) who showed up with a cake and champagne and good seats (let's hear it for older guys) and I thought it was going to be bad but the show was actually a lot of fun. Plus that singer, he's kinda hot.

Cum on Feel the Noise: There's really nothing I can say and even after 20 years I still smirk when I see the title, those dirty 80's boys. Again, I dare you to prove there are songs better than this. I think I was in 7th grade the first time I heard this and my friend's mom was gone for the night and someone showed up with wine coolers. Remember wine coolers? Those were awesome but probably not when you are in 7th grade.

Lose Yourself. I like Eminem. I know he's controversial and all that, explicit lyrics, yadda yadda but I've always liked him and I'm almost 40 so I probably always will. And nothing gets my speed up on the treadmill like this song does.

Why Can't I Be You? The Cure. 8th grade and it's 3am and I've been listening to Boys Don't Cry for 5 hours straight.I am positive I was wearing all black. Is there anything else I need to say?

Eye of the Tiger. If it's good enough for Rocky, it's good enough for me. Plus it makes me laugh when it comes on. The lyrics are so intentionally intense it makes me giggle. Just a man and his will to survive. That guy wasn't messing around.

Highway to Hell. I saw AC/DC in concert when I was 20. Man, that was a good show. Those guys knew how to rock.

Sex Dwarf. I swear this is Soft Cell's best song, but I think I'm fairly alone in this thought because I don't even know if they released it in the US. I remember driving several hours to the one import store that had this disc and it was a whole adventure. Now we just press a button. Life used to be a lot more interesting. And this list proves I'm a bit twisted. Or at least kind of a loser. But that's okay, I'm comfortable with that. Round and Round, Love will find a way just give it time.

There's some more 80's rock, some rap, basically a bunch of songs you'd probably never admit to liking but you'd sing along to in a bar. So I love my music, it's about two workouts worth and I love it so much I keep the earphones in when I leave and sing really loud in the car. I think that may be against the law here but am not entirely sure.

So all in all this post proves what you already know, that I am a total dork. But I'm a fairly happy one, and I've decided that after 39 years on this planet I'll take a happy dork over an unhappy hipster any day of the week.

eight

it's uncouth really, to carry on about such things. it's one of the reasons i didn't say anything 5 weeks ago when i started. i wanted to of course, i wanted to let you all know i was embarking on new frontier, one that involves counting and planning and you know, sacrificing.

that's right, i'm talking about dieting. i've been counting those bastard points and drinking water and basically being irritable for weeks now, longing for the simple joys of the local taqueria, extra guacamole and cheese has all but been torn from my flesh, those ridiculously delicious rolled tacos and an occasional beer and while passe, good lord i could go on and on.

so stealthily i've trod along, day in and day out recording each and every morsel i put into my mouth, roasting more vegetables than i actually knew were previously possible to roast and still waking up in the middle of the night hungry and yes, oh yes i am embracing my flair for dramatics and in the end i'm okay with that, i've got other priorities i can carry on about too because i'm nothing, nothing i say if not multi-dimensional.

so i sit before you today eight pounds lighter, eight is a sweet little number, round and roly poly and on it's side it's infinity and everything.

Ten more and i'm money. rolled tacos, watch your back. will that part ever go away? are there rolled tacos in the jungle?

dude

you know, it's cool. i totally respect that you only get to see your grandchild a few times a year, so when you get off the plane with a load of plasticky crap and fashion model dolls i can deal. i've already hidden those fashion model dolls for ages 13 and up, but you know, that was easy and you didn't even notice. and it's fine that you take M to the farmer's market under the guise of buying veggies and load her up with cookies and cake. i get it. she begs and you cave. perfectly understandable, she's a manipulative little bugger. and it's fine that you took her out shopping and bought her a gigantic stuffed horse that will never again be touched and will take up about 1/4 of our small home. i get that too. you love her and you can't help yourself. and i even understand that you don't listen when we talk to you, that you are too vain to get a hearing aid and are most certainly almost deaf. i can't leave you alone with her for too long because of it but hey, get a hearing aid and let's rock. no problem. until then we'll just yell all weekend. i mean it, i can live with that.

but then as we were getting ready to take you to the airport after a long weekend, that moment when you leaned close and said i have a confession to make and you tell me that somehow on your walk today you lost her favorite possession in the entire world, her baby blanket that's been here since the beginning, the one she can't sleep without and has never parted her sweet little grip from for more than a few hours, the one that goes everywhere with us all the time, and that it's lost and you have no idea where it went?

well, buddy, you crossed a line there. some things are wrong. just plain wrong. so you just go and get on your little airplane and fly back to your little office and your little fancy car where no one will be crying their eyes out for hours plaintively crying blankie, my blankie. don't worry about me sitting here awake all night consoling a broken hearted child over her great loss. in fact, don't give it a second thought, gramps. we're cool. really. we are cool.

and to his annoyingly existentially minded son who casually said that this is a good lesson, that nothing is permanent and the sooner she learns that the better? you can take your Kierkegaard and shove it up your Nietzsche, buddy. Who's crying now?

i've got a new review up on a way to get yourself organized. i can't claim that it worked too well for me but i vouch for that being 7 parts user error, 2 parts small family and 1 part control freak.

the last vestiges of cool

Awhile back I called the front office at M's daycare and the young woman who answered the phone when trying to place who I was casually said oh yeah, that's right, you're the cool parents. The amount of pleasure I cleaved from those few words borders on the absurd. Being cool, see, is the last vestige of a former life. Of a life unwilling to bend. Who will still bravely go out into the world sans baby items. Or who will take her child to faraway places and breastfeed at the tops of ruins. Or whose partner had dreads, for god's sake. Cool, see. All was not lost. Breeding CAN be cool.

And then as the years go on I find the cool slipping. Little things seep in like inexplicable giddiness in the face of people dressed as cartoon characters. Or singing along with CDs filled with teapots and wee spiders. But I monitored the cool, monitored the slippage. I was still in control. The balance hadn't tipped.

And then the unthinkable. The thing I said I would never do. Could never do. That all but defined the very loss of cool. And the worst part is that I caved in fairly easily, after years of resistance, tonight I caved in almost silently. The slippage. The loss. The pain. I feel it still.

Without further ado I give you this:
The shopping car cart. And there I was pushing this creaking behemoth filthy wretched vestibule of a grocery container, dodging the teetering old folks who'd blandly smile and the gangster types who looked on and away with appropriate disdain. One man looked on with definite sympathy and as I went by I muttered dude I know, I can't believe I'm pushing this pile of shit either only to hear him chuckling as he passed.

But if you look real close you'll see six amber tips nestled in the back. And that can only signify one thing. Micro brews are in the house, er, cart. So take that, you cruel robber of cool.

to whom it concerns

Dear Sir,

You don't know me but I know some things about you. I am just a girl on the fringe, watching the orange alerts creeping into red. I see the borders you are reinforcing, those walls look strong and those men with guns look mean. I see the new prisons under construction, the ones already overflowing (commuting Libby was money, dude. Way to save bed space!) I see the lack of Iraqis being granted asylum in our country, even as we run roughshod over theirs. That pesky deathtoll keeps rising, but calling it collateral damage is a great idea, so much easier to forget that way! And good idea saving money on supplies, our men and women in combat don't need much, it's plenty hot there already, no need to weigh them down with cumbersome body armor.

I notice the rising rates of HMO coverage, the fact that millions of kids can't see a doctor. I see the slow progress in Louisiana, even though some of your contractor buddies made out like bandits over a year ago. Schools are more overcrowded than ever; those federal budget cuts have a way of trickling down, good job cutting corners on that one. Who needs an education anyways! And that whole fight to minimize global warming? Good strategy, no need getting everyone panicked. In fact, incentives for purchasing over sized gas guzzling vehicles is showing your commitment! To Oil!

Not everyone has a house, and some of those who do don't have electricity. No worries there, folks are resourceful, they can use blankets. Plus there are showers at public parks and way less staff around to manage the traffic so any of us can sneak in and clean right up. Saves on water too! Food is an annoying necessity, but hey, dumpsters are overflowing everywhere. Speaking of landfills, I hear we might be using oceans now, what a great idea. Lots of room at the bottom of the ocean! Wasted Space!

All in all, Mr. President, I think you are doing just swell. That whole Patriot Act thing was the real kicker, keeping those people who challenge you in their place! Not to mention fixing the election back in 2000, way to go after what you want, we love that pitbull attitude. And who cares if the rest of the world hates us? We'll just keep them saddled in debt and and terrified of invasion and eventually they'll come around. I think you are doing a great job running this country - you never let anyone stand in your way, not even the truth!

And who cares about truth when we have fear? Fear! The New Truth!

Cheers,

She Who Waits Like A Dog In Heat For 2008

PS. Happy 4th!

PPS. What kind of dirt did Libby have on you anyways?

the dude abides

Christine made me laugh yesterday by pointing out my flagrant use of the word dude.

Dude.

It's the word that keeps on giving. But before I digress, let's start with a working definition.

The term "dude" is best known as a widely-used English slang word commonly used to informally address or refer to a person of the male sex. The word may also be used in the same manner when speaking to (or about) a person of the female sex. In informal social situations, it is not uncommon for young men to use the word "dude" to address one another, for example, "Mike Smith is one cool dude", or "Who did that?", "[The] dude with the red shirt did that". (sis). "Dude" may also be used alone in a sentence, serving as an exclamation; denoting a feeling of surprise, happiness, disappointment, amazement or anger, among other emotion.[1] The word might also be used practically anywhere in a sentence in order to convey such sentiments in conversation. The word's pluralization, simply "dudes," may also be used in the same manners. (Wikipedia, the source of all things accurate).

I was pleased to discover that I am using it in the right context. Dude to the chicks? No problem. Dudes to the masses? A-OK. Dude as an expression of tremendous joy? Right on. Dude anywhere in a sentence to convey sentiments? HA! See, I do that too.

Here are some others and of course, the inflection is critical. The tricky part is expressing that inflection in the blog world. Some examples may include:

Dude. Did you see that!!!
Dude. I am listening and I agree and I am so right there with you.
Dude. Are you kidding me? That rocks!
Dude. I love you.
Dude. Whoa. Wow. Nice.
Dude. No shit, really? That really happened??
Dude. Amen, yes, absolutely perfect.

I use the word at work:
Dude. Hey homeless guy, knock that shit off.
Dude. Hey, let's go get some lunch.
Dude. Nice going!
Dude. WTF? (this one comes with a specific facial expression)

I also use that word at home. M and I Dude each other all the way to school.

Me: Dude
M: Dude!
Me: Dude
M: Dude!

We'll do that till she points out that she does indeed have a real name and dude isn't it. She's still kind of uptight, though. I expect she'll come around. After all, she is only two. Dude.

And if I was as crafty as Alejna Id come up with an entire post replacing words in song titles with dude. Such as: I've been through the desert on a dude with no name (liberties on that one) or Dude on the run, or To dude, with love. But I am not as crafty as Alejna, so I'll leave that to her.

And my special whammy dude comes out when I am dealing with lawyers or cops or political types. I'll give a speech or hold my own in an argument, but then if the occasion permits it I'll insert a dude just to keep them on their toes. A girl's got to keep it real.

And more than anything, it's the irony that I appreciate. It's such a ridiculous word. All the more reason to toss it around.

In fact, the first person to leave a haiku in the comments using the word dude wins a special prize. What prize, you ask? It's special. It might even be candy. Dude.