My Dad is Cooler than your Dad!

Hi all,

I just wanted to share this delicious holiday greeting from my formerly republican father. Read the original email first then delight in my Dad's fantastical response!

To All My Democrat Friends

Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low-stress, non-addictive, gender-neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular persuasion and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all. I also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2008, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make America great. Not to imply that America is necessarily greater than any other country nor the only America in the Western Hemisphere. Also, this wish is made without regard to the race, creed, color, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wished.

To My Republican Friends:

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Dad's Response:

To my Republican Friends,

And a Merry Christmas to all of you! After the first of the year, when you have finished paying homage to your alleged Christian principles, please continue on with the raping of the environment, the exploitation of your fellow human beings, bringing war and destruction to the farthest reaches of the planet, holding smugly to the idea of your own superiority, believing that your God is the only true God, and in believing that your imagined success is evidence enough of your moral righteousness. Continue to believe that you, as a good, white, scrubbed-behind-the-ears Republican are the final, perfect product of all creation. Do these things, as you always have, in the holy name of profit and exploitation, because now that you have dispensed with the sham, over-commercialized, consumer-obsessed Christmas holiday of your own creation for another year, you can get back to what all Republicans really worship...THE DOLLAR. The meaning of Christmas can be determined, using your usual standards, by how many of those you made.

Yada Yada

My brother in law is an artist and he is having an opening and is asking everyone to title his work. While I realize most of you can't make it to Montana, you can take part in the festivities via his blog right here... http://kneelingbullmagic.blogspot.com/

So, check it out and throw him some titles!!! Thanks!

Early Morning Intruder or The Aquatic Messiah's Resurrection

Dave and I had just turned off the lights in our bedroom and had laid our heads on the pillow when Freud started growling, next he began to bark, then Dave and I heard footsteps outside of our bedroom door. I am prone to worry and have a bit of a fear of the dark so my reaction of fright was not out of the ordinary. When Dave, however, grabbed my hand and whispered, "I think someone is in the house." I was immediately shaking and sick to my stomach. I begged Dave to stay in the room and then I insisted on following him. All we had to protect ourselves was a glass bottle.

We slowly left the security of our bedroom and began to look about the house, turning on every light we passed. Freud was sniffing around but not acting concerned which made me feel a bit better. Dave opened the closet door and just as he did I looked down on the floor and I saw our little Red Tail Pink Chelsea (fish) lying still in a tumbleweed of Freud hair that often litters our floors.

Dave quickly picked the little guy up and began to clean the hair off of him. He felt the slightest movement in the fish and put him into the water but it showed little sign of recovery at first. Dave kept rubbing him and attempting to move the fish in the way that it would normally do on its own. He slowly began to perk up though he was still floating upside down and on his side. We watched him for a bit, laughing at ourselves for the panic when clearly it was this fish that we had heard from our room. We congratulated each other and Freud in our attempts to save the little fish's life and then we decided to go back to bed and hope for the best.

When I awoke this morning the first thing I did was check on the Red Tail assuming I would find him dead and perhaps half eaten by our other 12 fish. I was delighted to find him fully recovered and swimming around just as before. Dave, Freud, and I feel like heroes and are certain we now have a ticket into God's golden gates. ;)

Due to the Red Tails miraculous resurrection we have decided to christen him Jesus (pronounced Hey-Zeus).

sleepiness makes me stupid

I am so busy lately that I haven't the time to breathe. or sleep. School is wholly encompassing now. I feel like a real student for the first time since high school and that's fun, but I am just so tired. At the moment I am procrastinating. I should be reading some mind numbing book about literary theory but I am an"English Traditionalist" and Theory makes my brain hurt. So instead I am thinking about farming.

I know I have mentioned in more than a couple blog entries that my Dad is buying a farm in a few years but I am not sure if you guys know that Dave and I are planning on building our house on the property soon after Dad and Theresa settle in. All of this will begin to happen in about four years. So time would be much better used if I instead focused my meandering mind on homework. I just get so excited thinking about the whole idea of the natural life. Picking our dinner fresh from the yard and playing with goats and sheep and pigs. I totally revert back to a giddy, giggling four year version of myself.

Dave and I have been day dreaming about building an earthship on the farm. For the vast majority of you who don't know what an earthship is you must be thinking that I have lost my mind entirely and plan on taking a first class trip to outer space in a rocket. But an earthship is actually a house. A fully functioning, yet 100% off the grid, self sufficient home. It supplies it's own water from rain and snow, collects wind and sunlight for electricity, and best of all is built from mostly recycled materials - tires, bottles, and cans! It sounds insane and probably hideous but they are actually really beautiful, though certainly unique. Check them out at www.earthship.org or watch the video below... Maybe you'll be daydreaming instead of doing what you should just like me!

This and That

It's definately too soon to be talking about it but as those of you who know me understand, I cannot keep a secret. No, Jackie, I am not pregnant. ;) Dave and I are working together on a children's book. I am really super excited about it. I am doing the writing, he is illustrating and we came up with our idea while driving to Virginia. I am not going to go into too many details just yet but I had to say something. It's been great finding a project that Dave and I can work on together that we both enjoy equally. I have helped him here and there with some of his animations (I stress "here and there") but this is "ours."

I don't have much else to report right now. I start classes next Monday and I am pretty nervous because it will be my first semester as a full time student. I will also still be working 30+ hours a week with Katie so it's gonna be a bit tricky managing it all at first but I am determined to keep my 3.8 GPA. I will just have to learn to deal. My classes sound pretty interesting at least and hopefully that will carry me through to Christmas. Anycrap, if you don't hear from me for a while, now you know why.

I am reading a great book right now called Robbing the Bees by Holley Bishop. My Dad has started beekeeping in his backyard until he can officially retire and become a farmer. I have been fascinated with his newest obsession oddly enough. I actually have a bit of a bee phobia. So at the very least he seems to be helping me to overcome this fear. Bees are ridiculously interesting creatures. So check out the book sometime.

Waitress

The Spectrum Theatre is a little art house theatre a few blocks from our apartment. It is one of the best spots in Albany and certainly one of my favorite things about living here. The crowd is always ecclectic, the place is always packed and the parking lot is always full. There is a little coffee shop right next door that serves horribly bitter coffee and has a perfect atmosphere. Next door to that is a little art shop that sells great local and not-so-local artwork at super reasonable prices. The kind of prices that the working poor like Dave and I can afford. This block is in a scary part of town which makes it all that much better. Dave and I spend an excessive amount of time checking out the art, sharing a cup, and watching movies.

Tonight Dave was feeling in the mood to stay in and I was feeling in the mood to go out with my good lady-friend Karen. So we did little shopping and then headed over to Spectrum to see a movie that I have been interested in, called Waitress. I had heard about it online and read that it had been really well received at Sundance. Keri Russell stars as a waitress in a miserable marriage. Jeremy Sisto plays her dead beat husband.

Jeremy Sisto was spot on and though I hated him intensely he also gave the character this underlying sadness. So he was this intolerable tyrant but was also just so human. He was heartbreaking as well as infuriating. Keri Russell too was so amazing as the dispirited, luckless wife who was just getting kicked around by life.

I won't go any further into it as I don't want to ruin it for anyone who may want to see it. I just hope that everyone wants to go see it! It was really funny and moving and sort of gut wrenching. Truly this movie has been placed in my top ten.

The really sad part about this film is the story behind the writer/director Adrienne Shelly. Her apartment building was being renovated and she went down to a construction worker to complain. The argument got pretty heated and she slapped him. He punched her in the face and knocked her out. Because he was an illegal immigrant he was scared of being deported. He took her to her apartment and staged a suicide and hung her in her shower. She was murdered prior to her movie being released. She made an amazing movie and it's so tragic that her talent was cut short. It seems to always be the case that the most talented people seem to die far too soon. ie: John Lennon, Nick Drake, Elliott Smith...

Anyway, this ended up being a rather depressing blog. My point was just to convince you to see the movie... Hopefully I did that and didn't bum you out too much. ;)

The possible new ride.

So I think Dave and I are getting this car to replace the old as long as our insurance company doesn't completely screw us... Whatdya think? I know - orange is a bit garish but it's sort of grown on me. It'll look good with my freckles. It has everything we wanted in a car; cruise control, remote keyless entry, MP3 jack, and space for Freud. Like I said, no guarantees but I will be really happy if it works out. In fact, I won't even cry over the loss of the Spectra anymore.

the car.

This doesn't look totaled to me but that's the word from our insurance company. This would have been paid off next month. Fairly typical, huh?

So Dave and I are pretty frustrated about the whole thing as you might imagine. I keep trying to be positive about it... I could be dead, or hurt somebody else, yada yada yada. But I always go back to the fact that we were so close to paying it off.

I crashed my car...

and I am really sad about it. This was my very first at fault accident and I am 28... That's not a bad record, right? I was sobbing and I called my Daddy for a comforting word or two; though I claimed it was because I didn't know what to do.

Days like this make me wish that I lived closer to my family. All I wanted was for my Mom or Dad and Theresa to come rescue me on the side of the road. Instead I had to wait for officer Mike. Is it just me or is our generation incapable of severing the umbilical cord?

It's probably just me.

I feel like I am in constant need of my parents advice, guidence and/or monetary assistance. When my parents were my age they were already married, parents, divorced, remarried, and parents again. I on the other hand cannot keep a house plant for more than a month or two.

It's been a while... Let's play catch-up.

Did you know that drive in movie theatre's still existed? Cause I had no idea. I am pretty sure that all the drive-ins in Northern Virginia were closed down a long time ago but they are alive and well in Albany. Dave and I finally checked one out this Friday. It was great because we could bring Freud along. He's happy anytime he can go for a car ride. We saw Evan Almighty - it was crap and Room 1408 - it was okay... I think I may actually prefer the drive in to the more traditional theatres. Except for the wonky screen and the fog rolling in toward the end of 1408 we loved every minute of it. So if you are lucky enough to have a drive in close to you, you should definately give it a visit.

We also went to see the New York City Ballet's Romeo & Juliet at the Saratoga Performing Art Center. It was not that great. But the venue is really nice. We had a great spot under a big shady tree, we packed a great picnic, we got there early and stayed through the first intermission. I have always wanted to see the New York City Ballet and now I am not so sure why. I think it is that I have seen Romeo & Juliet SO many times that I was just completely bored. There were some cool moments but over all we mostly enjoyed the picnic.

Dave and I recently got a 55 gallon aquarium and have 9 fish in it so far. Truly this is the reason for so few blogs as of late. I am completely obsessed, sadly enough. What has my life come to? I sort of feel like a retiree with too much time on my hands.

Let's see what else is new... I signed up for classes for the fall semester. I have lost my mind and I will be taking 6! That will be in addition to the 30+ hours a week I still work as a nanny. Sheesh. If you think it's been awhile for a blog now, just wait till September.

Okay folks, I know you are dying to read more but this is all I have to report at the moment. Such is the life of the old boring lady I have so rapidly become.

Anyone else as crazy as I am?

It is after midnight and I work tomorrow morning. This may not seem strange to anyone but I am someone who relies on a full night of sleep to function. I don't mean I need 8 hours to be at my mental peak; I mean I need at least 8 hours so that I don't lose all sense of coordination and lose my ability to speak in coherent sentences. So my being up this late on a Sunday night is a bit unusual.

I am scared of the dark. There, I've said it and I will simply live with the consequences of having spilled my embarressingly childish secret.

If I am a uneasy for any reason before going to bed, the night is effectively shot. I spend the sleepless night laying in the fetal position facing the bedroom door imagining all the ways in which the psychopath who breaks into my home will torture Dave and me. I imagine what I will do to thwart his murderous attempts. I plan how I will get Dave, Freud and myself safely out of the house. How I will call 911 without being caught. The intimate details of the rest of my twisted imagination are better left unsaid.

I suppose I should explain what happened tonight that has me so scared to go to sleep. My brother and sister-in-law were in town a few months ago and we all went out and drank far too much. We shared a taxi with two girls on our way home later that night. We were very drunk and so needless to say we made fast friends. When the cab driver dropped the three of us at my house the girls asked for my number. I immediately and happily shouted it to them as the cab was pulling away. When I awoke the next morning my pounding headache was accompanied by the inexplicable dread at having given these complete strangers my cell number. I couldn't explain why it was a big deal I just felt like it was.

I never heard from them and I had almost put it out of my mind, until tonight. Dave comes in to the living room this evening where I was reading with a strange look on his face and says, "there is a call for you. The number is local but I have no idea who it could be." I take the phone and the person on the other end says, "Amy... what are you doing?" I was silent for a moment and then responded, "who is this?" To which the person on the other end hung up the phone. Now I can't sleep. Thanks weird cab girls for ruining my night. :(

Oh Freud, Not Again...

First let me start by giving you a little background info on our pooch. When Dave and I moved to Albany we were a little lonely as we didn't know many people so we decided adopting a puppy was in order. So we began by trying to figure out what kind of dog we should adopt. We decided stupidly to get a pure breed golden retriever. They are known for their gentle demeanor and there ease at training.

We looked on craiglist everyday waiting for the perfect golden to come up. A few weeks into our search I found an ad for a four month old retriever pup in need of a quicky adoption and the breeder was only asking 250 for him. Red flag anyone??? Dave and I spoke and decided we would go look at him and if he wasn't exactly what we were looking for we would leave pet-less.

We arrived to find this absolutely gorgeous puppy having diarreah all over the house. So we said where do we sign up? Allegedly Freud had been adopted previously and been returned as the child was "allergic."

Two months after we brought him home, Freud began limping. We took him to an emergency vet and were informed that he had hip dysplasia and would require an expensive surgery and a lengthy recovery. Again we said, where do we sign up?

This was all about a year and a half ago. Freud has many little health quirks (such as vomiting when hungry) but he is relatively healthy. Today, however, we noticed that his ear was leaking. Again we loaded him into the car and brought him to our emergency vet. Turns out he has a "hot spot." He needed to be sedated, have his faced shaved, be on medications for the next week, and wear an elizabethan collar. His second elizabethan collar in a year and a half.

When he came out of the procedure he was so doped up he could barely walk and his eyes were ridiculously droopy. He looked exactly the way he did when leaving the hospital after his hip surgery, only his bald spot was on his face. Here is a picture of our poor little cash drain.

Transdermal Celebration

This song is by Ween and it had an original video. Dave's friend Adam Phillips took the song an animated another video for it and when he showed it to the band, they paid him to use it! Insane, right??? It's a super cool video so check it out!

Vacation Blues

Even a wonderful life is hard to return to after a super relaxing ten day vacation. Dave and I have been home for two days and we are both finding it difficult to adjust to working. I think we'd both prefer to be out on the lake in a canoe. Alas, here we are.

I am sort of in stress out mode as I have much to do before I start at University at Albany in the Fall. And as I am sure all of you know, colleges are very adept at making things difficult. So there is a lot of running around and filling out forms. Do I really need to fill out a form to do everything? Can't we make it easy and do it all online? I am already sick of bouncing back and forth between these two schools and it is just the beginning. Grrr.

One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish. Blue Fish.

I am happy to report that I am on vacation. This wonderful news is accompanied by the news that I am also through with finals and my time at The College of Saint Rose has come to an end. There is simply nothing better than being on vacation immediately following finals. This is something that I have not experienced since freshman or sophmore year of high school I think. Dave and I started our drive south less than an hour after my Poly Sci final on Friday morning and our first stop was at my father's house in Northern Virginia. Freud was along for the ride as my father and Theresa, my step-mom, are taking care of him for us while we are away.

We stayed at my Dad's for the weekend and Dave and I were lucky enough to check out his bees. You can too by clicking here.

We left there on Sunday afternoon and headed further south and are now staying at Dave's parents house near Lynchburg. This house is a true vacation home although they are lucky enough to live here year round. Just behind their house is a lake. Papa Phillips and I decided to take the peddle boat out and do a little fishing.

I used to fish all the time as a kid because my grandparents lived on a pond that they kept stocked with little fish. My brother and I would sit outside all day cathcing the tiny fish and tossing them back. So I was excited to try my luck as a grown-up fisher-lady. Dad and I got out there and I lost hope pretty quickly. Dad assured me that I just had to be patient. Sure enough he was right and a little bit later I caught one. I was pretty happy with my catch even though the little guy probably only weighted a pound or so. I caught my second fish only about ten minutes later and I think it was about this time that Dad began to get a little nervous that he wasn't going to have anything to brag about when we got back to shore.

Lucky for him, on our way back in, he caught a fish that was bigger than both the fish I had caught combined . I told him that it was a good thing his was so big as it evened the score. Dad was quick to inform me that the catcher of the biggest fish wins even if I caught more. Well as long as that's clear! ;)

Funny Girl

I found a poem that I wrote when I was in middle school. I actually remember the assignment. We were told to write a poem that was all about us. You probably could have figured that out... I had almost forgotten how adorable I was. ;)

As I eat my double cheese from Wendy's
I'm sitting beneath a tree.
I think about my acting ambition
and who I'd like to be.

I realize I chew my nails
and my hair's the color of rust.
I think about my taste in clothes
and my rather tiny bust.

I think about how I can go
from happy to being sad.
I guess those are called mood swings
and I get them from my Dad.

My eyes look like dirty rivers
and I really can't stand sports,
I hate when people eat loudly
and I used to play in forts.

My mother says the dog is bad
and he's a stupid mutt
and when I walk she laughs
and says I always shake my butt.

Freud & Sally

Freud, our adorable 2 year old golden retriever, is in love. Freud has had many loves in his brief time in this world. He likes to spread his good stuff to as many lovely ladies as possible. Freud has been "fixed" since he was just a wee pup but this has not stopped him or his love machine. Freud's new girlfriend, I'll call her Sally, has lasted far longer than the rest. I don't think that it's because she is prettier or has a better personality, I just chalk it up to the fact that she's quite a sturdy lass.

Simply put, Freud isn't gentle. In fact Dave and I have had to on many occasions remind him that he needs to treat her like a lady. After our reprimand he'll usually heed our advice for a minute or so but soon enough he's back to biting and growling at her. Dave and I have had to resort to locking Sally away, which isn't fair to anybody really, but what else can we do? We don't want Sally to go the way of all the other girls in his life. The others have been ripped to shreds. It's frustrating because these ladies cost quite a lot. A couple haven't even lasted through a day of his amorous attacks.

Freud's lady love is a huge canvas bed. She cost us 130 bucks and I will not tolerate another tossed away bed. As soon as he sniffs her out and lays on her to soften her up, he immediately goes to humping the stuffing out of her. He picks her up in his teeth and tosses her around liek a rag doll. This dog in his one and a half years with us has made it through more than 10 beds. I know what your thinking, I should make him suffer without a bed. But he just loves them so much that I can't bare to leave him without one for long. Dave is even worse about it than I am. But look at him... could you resist this face?

I hate allergies!!!

My eyes are itchy and runny. My nose is itchy and runny. I have spent so much time rubbing my eyes and blowing my nose that they are both peeling. I have sneezing fits that last for sometimes 10 or 12 sneezes at a time. Argh. Oh allergies, please leave me in peace. If you could find it in your heart to allow me to enjoy the warm weather that is so fleeting in upstate New York, I would truly appreciate it. This picture is a representation of the crappiness of my current miserable condition...

Elephant Gun

One of my favorite bands, Beirut, has a new video and here it be... Whatdya think?

Ramblings...

Things have been so busy lately. And for those of you who know me, you know that I relish my down time. I love to spend time doing very little. Some of the things I spend time doing are talking to Dave about everything from the completely inane to the completely mind boggling. I also love to rub Freud's belly and ears, read, watch irrelevent tv, and watch Dave cook.

I haven't had time enough to do these things as much as I would like to. I have been traveling quite a bit lately and finals are coming up next week. Last weekend was spent hopping around VIrginia from one end to the other. I watched a few little league games. My nephew Trystan plays soccer, my lil' cousin Brianna plays softball. Soccer was okay. Baseball was really boring. But I did learn one thing about my hometown Luray that I was strangley unaware of. Apparently, the little leaguer's parents have a difficult time remaining sober throughout the 2 hour game. So they all have to sign a pledge that they will not consume alcohol on the premises while the kids are playing. Huh?? Do you just get so passionate about the game you have to drink to steal your nerves??

I am not sure that this Blog is really going anywhere so I think I will try and wrap it up. I am tired and I wanna have some time to do the things I like. I want Spring to be far enough along that my eyes are no longer swollen and making me look like I got beat up. I want finals to be through so that I don't have to sit through Sign Language anymore. And most of all I want next Friday to come as quickly as possible. Because then I will be on vacation for ten days. And trust me, I plan on spending most of that ten days being lazy.

Larry King is a Douche

With all of the guilt the media is trying to lay at the feet of Virginia Tech faculty, movies, video games, the police, and the people who were acquainted with Cho Seung-Hui why does no one question how a man who had been deemed a danger to himself and others acquire a gun? If we are so consumed with finding fault with someone, let's point the finger in the right direction. As far as I'm concerned my anger is directed at the assholes who oppose stronger gun control laws. I'm looking at you Charlton Heston.

I'm taking my beer.

Wow! This little girls parents have set her on the path to boozerville all for the sake of funny. Is it wrong? I can't decide. But it is HI-larious!

We Don't Care About the Young Folks

I am obsessed with this song right now. Probably becauser it's the coolest!!! Check out the video. It doen't get any better than this! ;) What do you think???

News Schmews

Is anyone else sick of hearing about Anna Nicole Smith and Don Imus? Why is the media completely unwilling to talk about anything substantial. When Anna Nicole was alive no one spent much time thinking about her. You saw her in the press occassionally making a fool of herself and it was sad and uncomfortable to watch and that was that. But I put CNN on and now all I hear about is Anna Nicole and her kid. I am sad for her daughter and all but there are so many more important issues that should be brought to the forefront and instead we have to watch clips of Anna Nicole all valiumed up making an ass of herself everytime we turn on the television.

That said you would think that I would be pleased with the more socially relevent news of Don Imus being a complete idiot. The problem there is that it's like, "okay we get it. The guy's a douche bag. Can we move on?" People who say the guy needs to be fired are thinking of this entirely from an emotional standpoint. It's called freedom of speech. If we shut him down, who's next? So he said he was sorry, the Rutgers ladies made their speech. Get over it now. Sheesh!

No Habla Sign Language

I am an ASL illiterate. I am taking part two of a two semester Sign Language course right now and I am growing more and more irritated. I am completely lacking the part of the brain that makes sense of all foreign languages or American Sign Language. My professor, though completely mind bendingly difficult to understand, is really funny and super fair. But there is simply a disconnect for us because she speaks ASL and I speak Idiot.

The ironic part is that I took ASL rather than Spanish or French because I stupidly assumed it would be so much easier. But instead I spend the 2.5 hours a week with a completely befuddled expression on my face and sweat beading on my forehead from pure and utter exasperation. She tells funny stories all the time that I just don't follow, well I assume there funny because everyone else is laughing. She gives us assignments and I turn in an altogether ridiculous amalgamation of all the instructions I was able to gather. After she says anything she looks at me and signs, "Do you understand?" Which is really embarrassing because I am clearly the weird older lady in the room. So you'd think I would get this before the half drunk 19 year olds but it just isn't the case.

I am desperate to be through with this semester for a couple reasons. First, I can't bear to sit through this lesson in my own scholastic limitations much longer. Second, I transfer to an entirely different and, in my grass is always greener view, much better school after this month. So I guess I just have to suffer through my ASL ineptitude for a bit longer.

Les Touristes Américains Stupides

Dave and I are in Montreal for the weekend and we are completely in love!! It is really an incredible city. I will be writing a much more in depth synopsis of our trip when I get home but I had to vent my frustrations before they made me say something that would get my ass kicked... So here goes.

Americans are assholes. Seriously. And we wonder why people hate us so much. Okay, please bear with me on this one, I do recognize that there are many of us who do not act like the people I am about to describe but unfortunately these people make the most noise so they are the most noticable. There are two sets of assholes I am referring to in particular but please don't allow this to fool you into thinking that they were the only two groups we have encountered.

Dave and I were walking all day and were cold and exhausted so we decided to stop and get a cup at a bustling cafe. There was still construction going on so the place was clearly brand new and it was packed so as you might expect the staff was very stressed and looked ragged. They were, however, super friendly and pretty efficient considering. There was only one customer ahead of us in line when we walked in and she appeared really confused and had no idea what she was ordering for the 7 people who were with her. But rather than step out of line and confer with her companions and allow the line to move along she decided to yell across the cafe to her family and fumble through several order changes while the ever expanding line waited. Finally after what seemed like hours she was finished and Dave and I moved on to order. Right in the middle of placing our order she barged back in front of us and started berating the two guys behind the counter for missing her caesar salad. The thing is, the guys had already told her that they were out of salad. She of course was insistent that they had not mentioned this. So we wait again for another ten minutes for her to complete her tirade and leave.

Then this evening after dinner Dave and I were walking back to our B & B and we walked past this group of college aged guys. They start shouting that "the Peel Pub sucks" because they only show hockey games on their televisions. I suppose in their drunken stupor these guys forgot that they were in friggin' Canada! What did they expect to see on the TV? Hockey = Canada, idiots. You could see what everyone staring at them was thinking, "Go home f-ing tourists." I know these looks all too well, because what I read on those faces was what I felt everyday living in New Orleans. So for the rest of our trip I will be on a mission to prove that not all Americans are stupid Americans.

Shop Girls

When I was six years old Denise Austin was my hero. She was so blonde and pretty. She was like a really fit Barbie doll. My mom had a Denise Austin workout record that had this giant fold-out poster of Denise illustrating the different exercises. My mother, sister and I would gather around the poster and sweat to the Banana Boat Song. All the while I would dream of the day that my unruly red curls and freckles would melt away and I would sprout long flowing locks of bleach blonde that I would wear in a side ponytail. Hugging the curves of my lean, fat free body would be a turquoise and white striped leotard. My white high top Reeboks and hot pink leg warmers would 1 and 2 and 3 to the beat of Harry Belafonte.

On one such morning, following our workout, my mother left for a long day of work at the Wrangler factory, leaving my sister Jennifer and me with her best friend Cara. Cara was a regular fixture in our apartment. She was young, like my mother, and fun. Cara always smelled like woodchips, grass and stale beer. Her family owned the Shenandoah River Outfitters; they rented canoes, kayaks, and fishing gear in Luray, Virginia where I grew up. She spent much of her time outside and was always tan and just a little dirty.

The three of us sat down to watch Purple Rain. Purple Rain was my favorite movie. Prince was so beautiful and I always insisted on sitting close to the screen so that every time there was a close-up I could give him a kiss.

Cara must have had a long night, because she was asleep before the end of the movie.

"Now what are we gonna do?" I asked looking at our sleeping entertainer.

"I dont know. Do you wanna play school?" This was Jennifers common response. She always wanted to play school just so she could show me how smart she was. She was two years older than I but she acted like she was 10 years older. Jennifer spent hours upon hours trying to teach me to read. So much so, that when I got to kindergarten, the teacher didnt have anything left to teach me.

"No, thats boring!" I exclaimed. "I wanna do somethin' fun! Lets build a fort."

"No, thats stupid. You wanna make our own store? We could do it in our closet. It would be fun!"

I nodded excitedly and we began to gather our toys. Jennifer and I had the biggest bedroom in the apartment. My mom thought it would be the fairest thing since we had to share the room. Our favorite place to play was the huge walk-in closet. It was always transformed into forts, restaurants, schools, homes, anything that our imaginations could conjure. This morning it was destined to be a store. Barbie, Ken and Skipper were set up in the Barbie kitchen snacking on hot dogs. Legos were stacked into buildings and houses. Our Atari games were arranged in alphabetical order: ET, Pac-Man, Pitfall, and Space Invaders.

Everything was ready. Now all we needed was customers. Jennifer and I marched throughout the apartment complex collecting our friends, asking, "Can Crystal come out and play?" being sure to remind Crystal to bring her allowance. She'd need it for this game. We proceeded in this way until we had gathered all of our friends.

"Guys, remember that Cara is sleeping. So you gotta be quiet or well get in trouble!" Jennifer warned as we arrived at our front door.

One by one we crept by our guardian, asleep on the couch. We led our new patrons through the hall and into our room. There we briefed them on how the game was to be played. The kids began looking around our closet and summing up our merchandise.

"How much do I have to pay for Skipper?" Heather, a tall and gangly third grader asked.

"Thats my favorite. She costs, um, 27 cents." I answered.

"I just got a dime and four pennies."

"Oh. Well you can have Ken for that much cause he doesnt got any hair anyways," I said.

Things continued in this fashion until we were almost out of toys and the other kids were completely out of money. After everyone left, Jennifer and I rejoiced in all of our earnings.

"I hope Mommy will take us to Jamesway when she gets home" Jennifer said.

"Me too! I wanna get a He-Man and She-Ra! They are so cool."

The remainder of our day was spent counting and recounting our riches, fantasizing about all the new stuff we were going to buy.

When our mother got home we pounced on her. "Can we go to Jamesway, Mommy? Please! We got all this money and we dont got toys anymore so we gotta buy new ones!" I pleaded.

"What are you talking about? What are they talking about, Cara?" my mother asked sternly. Cara was just as confused as Mom, still drowsy after sleeping through the days exciting events. Jennifer and I explained to our mother about our recent business venture and how we sold our toys to our friends.

"What in the world possessed you to do that?" she yelled.

"We were booooored, Mommy!" I whined, "And we made lots of money." We presented our hands, full of coins and flashed our most pathetic pouts.

"You will return this money now and I dont want to see you back here until you have all of your toys back!"

Her lips were tightly pursed and her brow heavy. Her glare cut into the heart of Jennifer and she began to cry, "But Mommy, we wanted to buy new toys!"

"GO!"

Jennifer dropped her head and turned to walk out of the door. I gave my mom the meanest look I could muster and shouted, "You are so mean!"

I stomped after Jennifer and slammed the door as hard as I could. The whole time I thought to myself, it just wasnt fair. We had worked so hard. We had earned the money and now she was making us give it back. No one made her give her money back!

We proceeded to go door to door begging for our toys and returning the hard earned money, we had so painstakingly attained. At each we stared at the ground, kicked at the dirt, and muttered, "Can we have our toys back? Our mom is real mad at us."

When we were finished we carried all of our stuff back to our apartment and our mother told us that we had to put everything back where it belonged.

I slammed around the house all evening. I wouldnt eat my dinner. With every ounce of willpower I channeled my energy into staying angry with my mother. She was losing her patience with me quickly and told me that if I couldnt act like a six year old I could go straight to bed. I stood up from the table, looked at her and shouted, "You are the meanest mom ever and I never wanna speak to you again!" I quickly stormed out of the room, threw myself on my bed and cried myself to sleep.

The next morning Jennifer and I, in our usual morning ritual, tip toed out of our room and Jennifer made us cereal. We sat down on the couch and watched our favorite cartoons, The Smurfs and The Snorks, until my mother woke up.

She stumbled out drowsily to prepare her coffee. Jennifer and I waited for her to finish her morning brew quietly. Soon she stood over the couch, looked down at Jennifer and me and said, "Okay girls, turn off the TV. Im putting on the Denise Austin record."