Beach Day!!!

We're all heading down to the beach for Memorial Day...too bad I didn't realize we were going until maybe 30 minutes ago. No one tells me anything. They all assume I know what's going on when I'm truly clueless. At least I'll get to see my week-old baby cousin, Julianne and Alyssa and Jack. The babies keep me entertained. Well, I should get ready to go.....

10 Rules For Dating My Daughter

I finally found this list of rules on the internet. So far, I can't find out who actually wrote them, but, if anyone knows, please let me know. To whomever wrote this.....this is frickin' hysterical....good job!

Rule One
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking anything up.

Rule Two
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.

Rule Three
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, In order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.

Rule Four
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate: when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.

Rule Five
In order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early."

Rule Six
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.

Rule Seven
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?

Rule Eight
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter:

• Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool.
• Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight.
• Places where there is darkness.
• Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness.
• Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka zipped up to her throat.
• Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature chainsaws are okay.
• Hockey games are okay.
• Old folks homes are better.

Rule Nine
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a pot-bellied, balding, middle-aged, dim-witted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

Rule Ten
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy outside of Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.

Vanity Sizes

Have you ever wondered how clothing companies compete with each other? The first, most obvious way is to create a line of fun, flattering, and comfortable clothing. This method has been on its way out and I believe completely died in the 1970's Annie Hall craze. Clothes no longer need to match or even cover everything that truly should be covered. They don't need to be functional or comfortable as long as movie stars get one photograph printed in them. Don't believe me? Just take a stroll down the preteen aisle. You'll notice the ultra-low rise, worn-out looking, or barely-there type items. What has happened to our sense of style?

But, there has always been a single ray of hope: the blue jeans. Yes, there are drastically altered forms of the classic, but the basic set of jeans are modest, comfortable and flattering on most people. They are incredibly versital as work clothes, club outfits, casual Friday ensembles...the list goes on and on. How could the clothing company add frustration to this seemingly simple piece of cotton canvas?

Before I answer this question, please understand that I am a small person. I typically wear sizes ranging from 0 - 2 and those are already hard to find. One store in particular (we will not mention names) has created something called "vanity sizes." In this concept, someone who normally wears a size 10 can wear an 8 because the 10 is now labeled as an 8. This is done to make the shopper feel better about themselves, spend obscene amounts of money and return to the store.

This is the bane of my shopping experience. My sizes have now disappeared from the shelves. It wouldn't be so disgusting if it were just dresses and the like, but NO. The blue jeans are the items affected by the "America is generally overweight, so we'll boost their self-esteem to sell more stuff" mentality. What is wrong with people??? They will still be the same obeese people whether their jeans say size 100 or 98. Are we that lazy that we resort to sewing a new tag into clothing to raise the level of our self-esteem? And since when did size make us better people? I'm a short underweight Italian, but I work hard to sing and accomplish a 4.0 every semester. That makes me feel wonderful about myself.

I firmly believe our culture is based too heavily on appearance and social status and too little on life, individuality, and self-respect. To Hell with the brand-name blue jeans!!! I will buy my clothing in a store that does not lie to me about my size or resort to sewing them myself!!!

Speechless

Yet again, I return from time spent at home sick. Not sick in the contagious, "you've caught something" sense, but in the "I can't sing" sense. This has happened three times this semester - enough is enough. I've had the same symptoms every time, so I decided to do my own investigating. As it turns out, there is mold in my bedroom window at my parents' house. It wasn't difficult to discover where it came from either. The last major hurricane cracked the double-paned window, allowing moisture to slowly creap in. This moisture created a "fogged" look to the window - one I had been complaining about since - and encouraged the growth of something reddish-brown in the base of the frame. Voila! the reason I get sick.

The hard part is that I can't sing....I'm a singer, this is a problem. A friend also told me not to talk because my speaking voice sounds fairly rough as well. Anyone who knows me knows that this is impossible.....I just figure I'll talk a lot less and speak softer to avoid extra damage. Wish me luck!

Human Annoyance

There are people in this world that annoy me beyond the point of exasperation...don't get me wrong, these people do have redeeming qualities. Its just that they chose not to show them around me. Those that don't know when to shut up are my particular favorite. They nag you about something you said which, by the way, THEY took to the extreme no one else came near. And why? Because it makes them feel important and superior to you. Aren't there better ways to raise self-esteem while minding your own affairs? I'm sure there are because I do not consider myself one of these obnoxious people - I'm certain someone will contradict that statement. My reply would be, "Bugger off and get a life!"

On a brighter note, the opera went exceedingly well. Thank you to all who came and supported us. I did manage to trip at least once a performance, but luckily it was at the beginning of an entrance where few would notice. Go figure. Major kudos to Mrs. Shaw who filled in on practically no notice. Without you, we wouldn't have had a show (Don't worry, Erica, we all love you and get well soon - I'll keep shouting for you as long as it takes!) Great job cast! Enjoy the vacation - God knows we need it!

Plug For My Store

Yes, I have my own store and this is a shameless plug for it. I create designs for mugs, journals, bumper stickers, greeting cards, etc. I also sell prints of my original artwork online. This is a continual work in progress and I add designs and items frequently. If you want me to design something especially for you, let me know. Check it out - if nothing else, it makes me feel important that people are looking at my site. Here's the address and feel free to leave comments:

http://www.cafepress.com/cachinnation

Classroom Stress

Ever been in a class where you feel like you're the only intelligent person? I have...every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. This is getting to be too much to handle. I can see little bits of my brain dripping from my ears onto the floor. The pinnacle of today's class was this quote: "I guess my roommate isn't that good of a Catholic because she didn't wake up with ashes on her forehead this morning." Go ahead, laugh. Its real - every word. The worst part was that the class neither laughed or corrected her. Don't misunderstand me, I wish no one public humiliation....but there should have been some sort of reaction from the class. Yet, none came. Just the eerie silence of mutual understanding and acceptance. As a friend of mine later stated, "What did they think happens? The Ashes Fairy comes in the middle of the night, puts a cross on your forehead, and leaves a quarter under your pillow?" I determined, as the lone Catholic in the room, that the task of enlightening this young women fell to me. I told her very gently that most of us go to a Church service to receive our ashes - and that this event usually occurred noon or after. I have determined that this situation is what my hell would be like, giving me the motivation to strive to be better than I am.

No Pain, No Gain

I will be the first to admit that I have hundreds of little quirks...ok, some aren't so little. Yet, I never realized that I don't stand up straight. How did I miss that??? This discovery, among others, came during my weekly vocal lesson. I have trouble releasing my jaw; I don't breathe quite as well as I should; I stand in a way that hampers all my other efforts. Murphy's law has struck again, but don't worry....this problem can be fixed and we attempted it in class. Let's just say that it involved me standing with my back and head against the wall with my feet out a little ways in front of me. And in the mirror, it looked normal....to me, it was incredibly painful. Why? Because I've done it wrong for over 20 years and my body doesn't want to change itself. Wish me luck 'cause I have to practice this.

For Rai...

I had to put this act of human stupidity into writing. A few days ago, some redneck decided that it was a good idea to spit directly in front of me. Doesn't anyone else find this disgusting? I managed to avoid stepping into that visual representation of his intelligence, but a year or so back, my friend, Rai, wasn't so lucky. In fact, that incident caused to her to seriously damage her knee and use crutches for several months. The over-salivator didn't even stop to see if she was ok. Didn't your mother ever teach you not to expectorate in public? And if you decided to be that shameless, you should at least apologize for causing injury to another person. This is for you, Rai, that no more spit may cross your path!

Rai's sites:
http://www.snarkage.com
http://glittersavior.blogspot.com/

Tempest of the Mind

The winds blow all around us. They shape us, pull us one way, push us another, and spin us until we don't understand where we are or where we were going. This chaotic whirlwind continues to confuse us until the day we get it right. On that day, the wind is at our backs, pushing us to who we really are and who we'll be. The path becomes clear to see and our purpose is found. But that day is not today. Today, the winds twist and swirl, obscuring my sight.

Damn You, Jack Frost

What the hell is wrong with this weather? Its well below freezing outside and we've had precipitation, yet not the kind for which we have been longing and praying. These frigid temperatures have no other purpose than to provide snow...and kill mosquitos, but that's a another post. SO, WHERE IS THE SNOW?! My siblings got a school day for a measly 1/8 of an inch. I just want enough to close the university for a day. Then, Mother Nature can kick Jack Frost out and let things warm up. I don't care as long as it snows. Winter cold isn't complete without a little snow, so bring it on.

It's Such a Bad Idea to Give Me Free Web Space

I've apparently lost my mind. What could convince me to spend time I don't have to write commentaries that probably no one will ever read? Its free. That blessed four-letter word can make almost anything enticing. Seriously, what did I have to lose...besides all respectibility and the illusion that I'm a quiet, sweet-natured young woman? I think what got me to this point was the simple fact that I write a lot. I scribble my thoughts in a journal, write rants on my yahoo notepad, talk ears off anyone naively willing to listen. Life can get stressful and I lack an effective way of expressing that daily frustration. Not to mention, I can drive everyone surrounding me completely insane. This seemed like a viable solution - and a awesome way to zone out in class. So, for now I close my very first post, my stepstone to the world of the computer savy. Welcome to my blog....God help us all.