Ewww....pedophiles intruding on my blog

Wow. So I was on sitemeter checking to see if more than 3 people are reading my site. I noticed that I had a visitor from the UK, and I wondered whether some of my old London friends, from a few years ago when I lived there for work, have somehow found me.

Instead, I find out that it was some random gross person. The referring URL is google, and the search terms are...

"little girls bare bums"

WHY DOES THAT SEARCH STRING TAKE YOU TO THIS BLOG?!?!? EWWWWWWWWWWWW!

I need to throw in some innocent words to counter the effects:

butterflies flowers angels Jesus peace on earth goodwill towards men clouds raindrops on roses whiskers on kittens bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens brown paper packages tied up with string...

Hmm, maybe I shouldn't have "package" on here. shoot! I just did it twice. crap!
Oh god, could "whiskers" be dirty somehow?

Crap, I should quit while i'm ahead. Dammit! I just said "head". Forget it.

Negotiation Tip #1: Bring Mommy

Sorry I haven't posted for a few days...not a good way to start out a new blog. I have a good excuse though: I'm in the process of trying to buy a new townhouse. It's the model home in a new development about 10 miles from where I work. It's not a done deal yet, but hopefully soon. I'm going back today to sign a bunch of paperwork, so I'll take some pictures and post them later.

By the way, my mom is the best negotiator ever! Earlier this week we were going back and forth on the price and we were getting pretty close to the number I wanted. The sales manager was scribbling a bunch of figures down on a piece of paper. First he wrote down the original asking price. Then he took off a few thousand for some wall units that never got built, then he he took off a bunch of money for a discount we had asked for, then he reduced it by some loan incentives we get for using their lender, etc. etc.

We were only a couple of thousand dollars off at that point from my original offer. So my mom busts out with the following compelling argument:

"We are the Chinese. We rike even lumbers." (Poor mom has always had trouble pronouncing the word "number".)

Anyhow, she then proceeds to write in really big print, the figure representing my original offer, just in case the sales guy forgot. "You lumber so ugry! So you preez just to make plice rike this. This more preety."

I had suppress my laughter and nod solemnly. I looked over to my right and my real estate agent, a friend of my mom's, was nodding his head vigorously. But then amazingly enough, the sales guy kept using that number for the rest of the conversation.

My mommy kicks ass!

Touching poo with bare hands (Part 1)

Episode 1

This tale begins almost 30 years ago. It's early in the evening, upstairs in the home of a young family. Picture two of the children - a girl and a boy - playing together in the tub with their bath toys. They're splashing around having a great time without a care in the world. Suddenly, the little girl stops playing, squats in the water, and begins to concentrate. Within seconds the boy has jumped up and is screaming.

"It's ok, it's ok," pleads the girl. She doesn't want to get into trouble, even though she's not sure she's done anything wrong. She's thinking.

Normally, poo goes in the toilet. The toilet is full of water. The bathtub is also full of water. So isn't it ok for poo to go in the bathtub?

Perhaps her logic is flawed somehow. Her brother's actions strongly suggest that she has made a mistake.

Ah-ha! I know what to do.

"Don't worry," says the girl, beginning to be frightened by her brother's reaction. "It's not that big. I'll get rid of it."

She reaches and picks up the big, brown shark with one hand. The boy is standing in the tub, looking horrified, and is scrambling to get out.

Meanwhile, she's still standing in the water. The water is still warm. She doesn't want to get out, but she needs to get rid of the offending intruder. She leans over, holding brown boy in her right hand. "See? No big deal," she says to her brother as she casually tosses the item in the toilet.

She misses.

It lands with a thud on the carpet. (Who the hell puts CARPET in the bathroom? The 70s were a strange time.)

By now, the boy is out of the tub and has grabbed his towel and is making a bolt for the door.

The girl dutifully climbs out of the tub to clean up her mess. She tries once more to convince her brother to stay and finish the bath, but he's determined to leave. She picks up the log, drops it in the toilet, and flushes.

The boy makes his exit shouting for mommy. She watches him leave, shrugs, and then climbs back into the tub to wash her hands and finish her bath. After all, the water is still warm and there are still bubbles left.

Episode 2

Coming soon...

Bah Humbug

I took my mother to the mall today because she needed to do her Christmas shopping. Here are some things about my mother:

1) As the oldest of four children, she was the first to immigrate to the U.S. and eventually brought her entire family over here;
2) She raised 3 children on her own;
3) She owns her own home and has lived alone for the last 10+ years;
4) She travels the so frequently that she had to request additional pages in her passport b/c she ran out of space for all the stamps;
5) She wrote a book which got published.

So she seems pretty independent, right? Well, here's another thing about her:

6) She's completely incapable of shopping alone. This means she just won't do it unless someone goes with her.

Here's something about me:

1) I hate shopping, especially with my mother.

It's not that I don't like her company. I would just rather do ANYTHING ELSE other than go shopping with her. It's all about efficiency, or the lack thereof...she just doesn't know how to make a decision. Today, every store we entered, it would take a gabillionzillion minutes for her to make up her mind about ONE item. I don't want to name the stores lest I give away hints about what people are getting for Christmas. So I'll use code names.

First we went into "Victoria's Shh-Don't-Tell-Anyone" to get my brother's gift. My mother knew what she wanted to get for him, so we looked at that first. But then we had to take a few days to look at EVERY SINGLE OTHER item in the store before she went back to the first item. Then it took another few weeks to decide what size and color. The place was crowded as hell, and people kept jostling past us, grabbing for the sale items, and moving in and out of the store. Oh, here's another thing about me:

2) Crowds of people make me feel claustrophobic, anxious, and irritable.

By the time we paid in that first store, I was wasted away and ready to go home.

We went to a few more stores to get gifts for the rest of the people on her list. And I could slowly feel myself going insane from trying to swim through the sea of shoppers as I drowned in the noise of the crowd. I'm pretty sure I died at least once because I remember going towards a tunnel and a bright light. It was very quiet and peaceful, and I remember feeling happy to have escaped the mall. But then suddenly I felt like I was being yanked back. I tasted something cool, tangy and sweet in my mouth. It was so refreshing, and I wanted more. I opened my eyes and at first thought I was in hell. But it was worse. To my dismay I was alive and well, and sitting in the food court.

Hot-Dog-on-a-Stick Lemonade, people. The miracle that can save a life that doesn't want to be saved.

Anyhow, after resurrecting me, my mother wanted to keep shopping. The same process described above happened a few more times...I think. I don't really remember anymore. I'm pretty sure I'm in my late sixties by now and somehow my memory has faded with age.

Here we go again...

Allow myself to welcome myself back into the wonderful world of blogging. Now that I'm a practicing attorney, I think it's time for me to start posting again, but under a new pseudonym. I've graduated law school, passed the bar, and started my legal career as an associate at an international law firm. Yeah, check me out, bitches! No longer am I simply a bum. Now I am a complete A. Whole.

Thank you to all my loyal friends who have expressed to me on multiple occasions how much they missed the old blog. I killed that thing for a number of different reasons -- none of which I can seem to recall anymore. But, I'm back, and I'm prepared with all new material to entertain the asses...er, masses.

So, I hope you'll stop by to view my internal journey of reflective self-absorption.