Is This Thing On?

I have not been much of a blogger lately. Life tends to get in the way of such endeavors. And yet I can not bring myself to shut down or completely abandon my own little space in blogland. Most of the people who actually read my stuff in the past are either gone, on Facebook (ahem), or have given up the Internets completely, and even I am not sure I have anything to say worth reading.

Last night I spent some time going over my archives. At one time I was a pretty damn good writer. I went into this as a way to express myself and share funny stories from my somewhat deviant past, never realizing that blogging can very easily take over your life. Where did I find the time to write these entertaining little anecdotes? And then comment with such wit and wisdom on other blogs? And why did I have that giant L on my forehead?

In a rare moment of absolutely clarity, I realized that I wrote about so much about my past because not much was going on in my present - and the future didn't look all that exciting either. Actually that's not true. I had many dreams for my future - I just didn't know how to make them happen. I wanted to move home, buy a house, and get a dog. I also wanted a boy and a smokin' body. A smokin' body for me, not the boy. No wait, actually for the boy too. I've probably mentioned this 12 or 20 times on this blog at one point or another.

But things turned out differently than I expected. My future did change for the better. Moving home was the smartest thing I have done in years. Not to say that Florida was a mistake - it wasn't. I went back to school, started a new career, and made wonderful friends that I still stay in touch with on a regular basis. But coming here has been life-altering. I got a great job and work with fabulous people, I started working on my Master's (and I am about to start my ninth class out of ten), I bought a home, got a dog, and am generally - wait for it - happy. Yes, I am happy. It's hard for me to even type the word, so long have I truly felt this feeling. And I can't fight this feeling anymore...I've forgotten what I started....OK stop that. It's not necessary to make jokes about happiness. And that giant L on my forehead? It must have gotten lost in the move.

When I moved into my home after living in my mother's den for the better part of a year, I lovingly unpacked my many boxes that had been held prisoner in storage for so long. Never has unpacking felt so sweet. As I ripped through my kitchen gadgets, I found a little chalkboard that had been hanging in my Florida kitchen. I had drawn a picture of a house on it, complete with chimney and yard. Amazingly, the chalk drawing was intact. It was my own little dream photo, and there I was, holding a picture of the very dream that had come true. Two weeks later, I brought my puppy home. I quickly added him to the picture and hung it up in my very own kitchen.

I have no idea where I am going with this post. I think I just wanted a place to express my gratitude. I am beyond grateful for how things are going in my life. 2008 has been an extraordinary year for me and because of this, I am have never been so excited to see what a new year can bring. In 2009 I will achieve a Master's degree when not so long ago I hadn't even graduated from college. In 2009 I will achieve the smokin' body that I long for. And in 2009 I will find the one I have been waiting for.

Maybe I should put him in the picture too. Just to make sure.

Happy 2009 everyone! May all your dreams come true!

Oh Happy Day

BOO!

If Only They Had Thought of This...

Not again!

Toothpaste for dinner

Thank you Gloria Steinem

While I don't usually get political on this blog, I wanted to share this brilliant piece from the Los Angeles Times Opinion page.

Palin: wrong woman, wrong message

Sarah Palin shares nothing but a chromosome with Hillary Clinton. She is Phyllis Schlafly, only younger.

By Gloria Steinem
September 4, 2008

Here's the good news: Women have become so politically powerful that even the anti-feminist right wing -- the folks with a headlock on the Republican Party -- are trying to appease the gender gap with a first-ever female vice president. We owe this to women -- and to many men too -- who have picketed, gone on hunger strikes or confronted violence at the polls so women can vote. We owe it to Shirley Chisholm, who first took the "white-male-only" sign off the White House, and to Hillary Rodham Clinton, who hung in there through ridicule and misogyny to win 18 million votes.

But here is even better news: It won't work. This isn't the first time a boss has picked an unqualified woman just because she agrees with him and opposes everything most other women want and need. Feminism has never been about getting a job for one woman. It's about making life more fair for women everywhere. It's not about a piece of the existing pie; there are too

Selecting Sarah Palin, who was touted all summer by Rush Limbaugh, is no way to attract most women, including die-hard Clinton supporters. Palin shares nothing but a chromosome with Clinton. Her down-home, divisive and deceptive speech did nothing to cosmeticize a Republican convention that has more than twice as many male delegates as female, a presidential candidate who is owned and operated by the right wing and a platform that opposes pretty much everything Clinton's candidacy stood for -- and that Barack Obama's still does. To vote in protest for McCain/Palin would be like saying, "Somebody stole my shoes, so I'll amputate my legs."

This is not to beat up on Palin. I defend her right to be wrong, even on issues that matter most to me. I regret that people say she can't do the job because she has children in need of care, especially if they wouldn't say the same about a father. I get no pleasure from imagining her in the spotlight on national and foreign policy issues about which she has zero background, with one month to learn to compete with Sen. Joe Biden's 37 years' experience.

Palin has been honest about what she doesn't know. When asked last month about the vice presidency, she said, "I still can't answer that question until someone answers for me: What is it exactly that the VP does every day?" When asked about Iraq, she said, "I haven't really focused much on the war in Iraq."

She was elected governor largely because the incumbent was unpopular, and she's won over Alaskans mostly by using unprecedented oil wealth to give a $1,200 rebate to every resident. Now she is being praised by McCain's campaign as a tax cutter, despite the fact that Alaska has no state income or sales tax. Perhaps McCain has opposed affirmative action for so long that he doesn't know it's about inviting more people to meet standards, not lowering them. Or perhaps McCain is following the Bush administration habit, as in the Justice Department, of putting a job candidate's views on "God, guns and gays" ahead of competence. The difference is that McCain is filling a job one 72-year-old heartbeat away from the presidency.

So let's be clear: The culprit is John McCain. He may have chosen Palin out of change-envy, or a belief that women can't tell the difference between form and content, but the main motive was to please right-wing ideologues; the same ones who nixed anyone who is now or ever has been a supporter of reproductive freedom. If that were not the case, McCain could have chosen a woman who knows what a vice president does and who has thought about Iraq; someone like Texas Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchison or Sen. Olympia Snowe of Maine. McCain could have taken a baby step away from right-wing patriarchs who determine his actions, right down to opposing the Violence Against Women Act.

Palin's value to those patriarchs is clear: She opposes just about every issue that women support by a majority or plurality. She believes that creationism should be taught in public schools but disbelieves global warming; she opposes gun control but supports government control of women's wombs; she opposes stem cell research but approves "abstinence-only" programs, which increase unwanted births, sexually transmitted diseases and abortions; she tried to use taxpayers' millions for a state program to shoot wolves from the air but didn't spend enough money to fix a state school system with the lowest high-school graduation rate in the nation; she runs with a candidate who opposes the Fair Pay Act but supports $500 million in subsidies for a natural gas pipeline across Alaska; she supports drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Reserve, though even McCain has opted for the lesser evil of offshore drilling. She is Phyllis Schlafly, only younger.

I don't doubt her sincerity. As a lifetime member of the National Rifle Assn., she doesn't just support killing animals from helicopters, she does it herself. She doesn't just talk about increasing the use of fossil fuels but puts a coal-burning power plant in her own small town. She doesn't just echo McCain's pledge to criminalize abortion by overturning Roe vs. Wade, she says that if one of her daughters were impregnated by rape or incest, she should bear the child. She not only opposes reproductive freedom as a human right but implies that it dictates abortion, without saying that it also protects the right to have a child.

So far, the major new McCain supporter that Palin has attracted is James Dobson of Focus on the Family. Of course, for Dobson, "women are merely waiting for their husbands to assume leadership," so he may be voting for Palin's husband.

Being a hope-a-holic, however, I can see two long-term bipartisan gains from this contest.

Republicans may learn they can't appeal to right-wing patriarchs and most women at the same time. A loss in November could cause the centrist majority of Republicans to take back their party, which was the first to support the Equal Rights Amendment and should be the last to want to invite government into the wombs of women.

And American women, who suffer more because of having two full-time jobs than from any other single injustice, finally have support on a national stage from male leaders who know that women can't be equal outside the home until men are equal in it. Barack Obama and Joe Biden are campaigning on their belief that men should be, can be and want to be at home for their children.

This could be huge.

Gloria Steinem is an author, feminist organizer and co-founder of the Women's Media Center. She supported Hillary Clinton and is now supporting Barack Obama.

Less than a week to go until back to school...

A week in the life of a squeaky toy

Day One: Hello! This is Monkey. Not the same Monkey as the famed videographer (wait, is that a word? why is it coming up as an error in spell check? dammit!) and retired blogger. Oh no, I am none of those things. I spend my life hanging from a tri-colored rope and resting on a fuzzy banana. I am a squeaky toy. A squeaky toy manufactured to be a dog's best friend. To supply hours of squeaky goodness to my canine master and human pack leader. Though it doesn't sound like much, my life has a purpose. I am grateful for this.

Yay for me!
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Day Two: I was very excited when I met my canine, Riley. It was love at first sight! He's been through a tough time, so he was well-deserving of a Monkey of my caliber. He was very welcoming, and immediately introduced me to one of his good friends, Frog. He didn't say much, but I assumed that my new Frog friend was just very shy. (This is what they call foreshadowing.)

Look at those big, trusting eyes.

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Day Three: Riley and I have been playing nonstop since I got here! Oh the joy of running around the house together, my squeaker sounding emphatically under Riley's powerful jaws. While he's a sweet puppy, he does play a bit rough. I figured that sooner or later he would let me rest with Frog and the other toys in the basket. I am already growing quite tired, and my tri-colored rope has become a bit unraveled. Also, most of my fuzzy banana is now in the dumpster. It was quite startling to see its innards spread throughout the living room, I can tell you!

I'm hanging in there!
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Day Four: I have discovered, too late, that shyness is not Frog 's problem. His inability to speak is due to the fact that his tongue has been ripped out by the devil dog from hell. His beautiful green plushy outside is covered with the slime of our torturer, as am I. My ears are chewed through, and I have a very embarassing hole near my bottom. The human laughs at my pain. I am in fear for my life. Somebody save me!

HELP!!!!

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Day Five: Frog tried to save me, but alas, it's too late for me. No needle and thread can undo this damage. My life's purpose is to end up in a dumpster next to the innards of a thousand other shredded squeaky toys. Run Frog, run! Save yourself!

Warning - the following picture may be too graphic for younger audiences.

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This sucks.
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If this doesn't make you smile...

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.

And get me a Snausage while you're up...

Riley wishes to convey his appreciation for all the good thoughts and well wishes during his time of need. He came through the operation just fine, but unfortunately the damage to his hip (the surgeon believes it was indeed from being hit by a car before we met) was worse than originally believed. Riley will most likely need another surgery in the near future (he doesn't know about this yet, so please keep it on the down-low) to completely repair the damage.

In the meantime, he is resting comfortably with HGTV and Soapnet on heavy rotation. I'm sure once the Tramadol wears off he will realize the TV is actually behind him.

Big Day

Riley is having surgery today to repair his hip. There will be much whimpering, crying, and huddling in the corner.

Luckily, Riley will be unconscious during this time and won't have to deal with me.

Send good thoughts.

Where Love Resides Pt. 2

Guess what? The pity party is over. I don't need to pinpoint when I was in love in the past, or why it didn't work out, or live with angst over lost opportunities. I don't need to prove to anyone, including myself, that I've had great loves in order to give my life some sort of cinema-inspired purpose. I have love in my life right here and now. True blue unwavering love. This is where love resides. In the face of this sweet, adoring puppy. A puppy I found, or found me, just a few months ago. Who makes me laugh every single day. Who snuggles with me while we watch TV. Who counts on me to take care of him and protect him. And most importantly, and miraculously, who trusts me completely.

I didn't know Riley for the first seven months of his life so I don't know exactly what his childhood story is. I know that the Humane Society brought him up from a shelter in North Carolina just a few days before we met, but they knew nothing about his background. He adamantly refuses to tell me anything about his previous life - which I find very frustrating. There are signs, though, that his life was difficult. When we first met, he was so thin his ribs were showing. He has small scars on his nose that won't seem to heal. He has a large chip in one of his front teeth. He was terrified of certain rooms in my house - especially the ones with tile on the floor (he has since overcome this fear). If he felt he did something wrong, he would literally bow down submissively at my feet and wimper (he has since overcome this as well). But his absolute sweetness, his loving nature, and his silly antics completely won me over.

My biggest concern was the limp I noticed a few days after he came home. At times he would be running perfectly fine, and then suddenly he would pull up his one leg and hobble along. The vet said it was probably just an old injury and gave him some medicine. The limping seemed to get better, but I couldn't help but notice that his hip wasn't quite right. So back we went to the vet for x-rays. When the vet came back with them, she told me that there was one thing she expected to see, and another she didn't.

What she expected to see on the x-ray was that Riley's hip has dysplasia. The vet believes that he was not born with it, but that he was either beaten, hit by a car, or even possibly thrown from a car. I was horrified by this news. I could not, and still can not, believe that someone injured him so badly that his hip actually grew incorrectly. It is beyond my comprehension. His hip will need surgery to repair the damage.

What she did not expect to see was the big white spot on the other leg. What the hell is that, I asked. Please tell me it's not a tumor.

It's not a tumor, she said.

It's a bullet.

Someone shot him when he was just a little puppy.

Someone. Shot. Him.

This dog who runs to everyone he meets with tail wagging - was shot. This dog who sits at my feet waiting for hugs - was abused. This dog who lies on his back on the bed with his head on my shoulder - was mistreated. This dog who allows small children to pull his tail and stick fingers in his nose - was treated cruelly.

He holds no grudges. He feels no self-pity. He loves unconditionally.

He is my inspiration.

And he is where my love resides.

Where love resides

It's been a lazy day around my house. Riley, who apparently is allergic to pollen, which is the least of his health problems, but that's another post, is currently on steroids - making him listless and lethargic. His lack of energy seems to be contagious as I have divided my day between approximately three activities - watching television, sending messages on Facebook, and attempting the local paper's sudoku puzzle. Damn the sudoku! Curse the sudoku! Fuck you sudoku!

During the television portion of the day, I found myself getting sucked into the requisite Saturday afternoon chick flick. In this case, it was How to Make an American Quilt, which actually goes beyond being a chick flick to being what may be the original vagina monologue. The only thing that saves this movie from being completely vomit inducing is the brief appearances of beautiful men to offset the off-the-charts estrogen levels. But of course, being the sad sap of simp that I am, I found myself welling up at an unexpected turn of phrase in the movie.

The premise of the film - no forget it this will take too long. The quilt being made for Wynona Ryder's character in the film- I don't know her name, if you want to know you can click the link - has a theme: where love resides. Each female character in the film is constructing her own piece of the quilt that represents where love resides to them. One woman creates a garden that reminds her of her recently passed husband, another remembers a man she met in Paris and makes a section with the Eiffel Tower, and still another sews a painter's palette for her artist husband (who has consistently cheated on her since they first married).

And so I started thinking about what my piece would look like if I were part of this quilt.

.
.
.

And I couldn't think of a damn thing. Nothing. Nada. Nyet.

My mind searched and searched and came up empty.

I felt hollow inside, like the wind had been sucked from me. Am I completely loveless? Have I ever really known love? What's wrong with me that I can't think of a place or time in life that represents love?

I've known happiness. My travels across the world were the best time of my life. I even fell in love a few times, or so I thought at the time. Even now, my life is in a truly wonderful place - I have the home I have always dreamed of, a great job, friends, family, and the puppy I have been wanting for so many years. But is there love? Will there ever be?

Maybe - someday - this house will be where my love resides.

Stupid chick flicks.

The Life of Riley

Like a laborious mosaic

Because I lack inspiration to write, and this is much more fun than doing homework or dealing with family dramas. Make yourself a mosaic. You'll feel better. Thanks to Miss Syl at the Sexeteria for this one.



The concept:
1. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
2. Using only the first page of results, and pick one image.
3. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into Big Huge Lab's Mosaic Maker to create a mosaic of the picture answers.

The questions:
1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food? right now?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. What is your favorite drink?
7. What is your dream vacation?
8. What is your favorite dessert?
9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. What is one word that describes you?
12. What is your flickr name?


Bonus points for knowing where the title comes from.

Psychopath Test

I recently received this as an email. This was a test by a famous American Psychologist used to test if one has the same mentality as a killer. Many arrested serial killers took part in the test and answered the question correctly. I am pleased to announce that the psychopathic answer never even dawned on me. This is not a trick question. It is as it reads.


A woman, while at the funeral of her own mother, met a man whom she did not know. She thought he was amazing. She believed him to be her dream man so much that she fell in love with him right there - but never asked for his number and could not find him. A few days later she killed her sister.

Question: What is her motive for killing her sister?

Give this some thought before you answer. Put answers in the comments. The pyscho answer will be revealed on Friday.


Highlight below for answer:

She was hoping the guy would appear at the funeral again. If you
answered this correctly, you think like a psychopath. Freak!

School's out for summer!!!

Hey Look! A Meme!

Todd tagged me for this. Sort of. And since, as usual, I seem to be plum out of inspiration (and readers) I figured I'd go ahead and dive into another meme.

What was I doing ten years ago?
Ten years ago I was working for a tyrannical Greek man who made a year out of my life a living hell. The only reason I even lasted that long was because of the hot young stud I was working with who made the job a lot more ...uh...fun. This job was the reason for my leaving the hospitality industry once and for all, so in a twisted "everything happens for a reason" way I should be grateful to him. Someday I'll show him my gratitude by having my puppy make him a lawn ornament.

What are five things on my list to do today?
1. Write this blog post (Psych!)
2. Complete my overdue assignment for my Master's course.
3. Make a list of the many things I have to do and buy for my house.
4. Do the laundry.
5. Play with my dog.
I'm guessing approximately two of these things will get done today. Can you guess which ones?

Snacks I enjoy?
I was tempted to take Todd's answer: "Snacks I don't enjoy" would be a shorter list. But I'm no copycat.
I enjoy almost all snacks - accept for pork rinds. And even those will do in a pinch.
Shut up. That's not copying.

Things I would do if I were a billionaire? - oh the things I'd do!
1. Go to one of those spa/detox centers. Spend weeks getting massages from beautiful men,rolling around in mud baths, and cleansing my no-doubt disgustingly full colon.

2. Once I was refreshed and gloriously fat free, I'd get my boobs lifted so they would no longer frame my navel like window panels.

3. Now that I am slim and lifted, it's time for the new wardrobe! Hello Giorgio? You're late for my fitting! I don't have all day!

4. Travel around the world for a while - first class- and buy homes in my favorite cities. Sydney beach front, Florentine hillside, NYC Greenwich Village, and of course my glorious Jersey Shore.

5. Travel around some more picking up furniture and beautiful things (and beautiful boys!) for my fabulous homes.

6. Of course I'm not completely a self-indulgent freak. While doing all this, I'd also be:
- Setting up trust funds for my family members and (certain) friends so they would be set for life.

- Creating an educational foundation that provides scholarships and reading programs to students and teachers.

- Donating huge amounts of money to animal rescue facilities and alternative fuel technology programs.

- Strongarming Campaigning to get the Bush Administration charged with treason.

Three of my bad habits?
1. I'm a major procrastinator.
2. I'm a tad bit anal retentive.
3. I take forever to make up my mind about things.

Five places I have lived?
1. Various places in the South Jersey area.
2. Various places in the Philadelphia area.
3. Florence, Italy (really more like an extended holiday)
4. Sydney, Australia
5. Fort Lauderdale, Florida

Five jobs I've had?
1. Counter girl at Dip-Stix, a now defunct hot dog stand on the Atlantic City boardwalk. Great high school job. Perks included flirting with hot surfer boys and eating excessive amounts of junk food.

2. Nanny Job #1 - Sydney, Australia. I took care of a gorgeous one year old girl and her equally gorgeous three year old brother. I adored the children, but the parents treated me like an indentured servant, and so I was forced to vanish in the middle of the night after only 2 weeks, leaving only a fuck off letter behind.

3. Nanny Job #2 - Sydney, Australia. I became the caretaker of two of the brattiest pre-pubescent girls in the southern hemisphere. Surprisingly, this job lasted several months. Within weeks I had turned these miserable, unhappy brats into super-cool, helpful, laid back kids who were actually fun to be around. All was well until the ex-wife came to visit with the other half of the family - twin ten year old boys. Yes, when the parents broke up, the father took the girls and lived in Sydney and the mother took the boys and lived in Woop Woop. That's healthy - way to negotiate for the benefit of yourselves with no regard for your kids. The mother paraded around like a hippo in leotards and berated me for making the girls clean up after themselves. She believed all children should be "free to express themselves and grow on their own - without interference from society's strangleholds." Considering her twin sons were ten years old and still wore diapers, I had to disagree.
Yes, you read that right.
I left shortly after the mother's visit.

4. Executive Chef for tyrannical Greek. 'Nuff said.

5. Technical Recruiter for international temp service. Unfortunately the company didn't know squat about technical recruiting, so that made it difficult to do my work. My bosses were constantly asking me why I hadn't gotten more people jobs. Probably because I am placing people for career positions that pay 150K a year to set up entire computer networks for corporations, as opposed to placing people in one day gigs that pay $10 an hour to answer phones and chew gum. Which hiring process do you think is going to take longer, you moronic fuckwits? The commission for one of these placements alone will be more than that dumb bitch next to me will bring for the next year, so shut the fuck up.
I never actually said that to my bosses, but I really wish I had.

How did I name my blog?
Originally I had The Babbling Brooke blog. It started to creep me out how many people were searching for Brooke boobs and Brooke is a slut (shut up!), so I decided to consider a change. Also, once you become a teacher they sort of frown on the slutty big boobed thing on the internet, so I changed to Scarlet Hip. The rose (or scarlet) hip is the pomaceous fruit of the rose plant. It's very good for you, much like me.

I won't tag anyone unless they want to be tagged. Mostly cause I can't make up my mind on who to tag.

What the world needs now...

Pearls Before Swine

Scenes from a first grade classroom

The Players:
Ms. Woes - Moi
Class Clown - hilariously funny little boy
PITA - pain in the ass, but wildly entertaining
Sunshine - adorable little girl who is unable to hold still for more than 14 seconds at a time
Surfer Dude - once incredibly shy little boy who now has surfer hair and is all kinds of rad
Clueless - sweet little girl who spends most of the day playing with pencil shavings

Scene 1: The Classroom

Ms. Woes : OK everyone, it's time to clean up and get ready for lunch.

PITA: I wasn't finished yet! *fist raised in the air* Curse you clock!


Scene 2: Walking to the Cafeteria

(Ms Woes playfully pushes the line leader, aka the Class Clown)

Class Clown: HEY!

Ms. Woes : What?

Class Clown: You pushed me!

Ms. Woes : Did not.

Class Clown: Did too!

Ms. Woes: Did not!!

Class Clown: Did too!

Sunshine: Stop it you two! Honestly!

Ms. Woes and Class Clown: (heads down) Sorry.


Scene 3: Walking back from the Cafeteria

Surfer Dude: Ms. Woes, can I hang out at your house this weekend?

Ms. Woes: Sorry honey, afraid not.

Surfer Dude: I'd wash your car.

Ms. Woes: Hmmm, tempting

Surfer Dude: I'll even make you dinner!

Ms. Woes: Dinner? You can cook?

Surfer Dude: Yes! I will make you dinner! And chicken will be fried!


Scene 4: The Classroom

Ms. Woes: Clueless, honey, you need to put your crayons away now. We aren't going to be using them for a while.

Clueless: When I was in kindergarten, a boy was coloring his teeth. With color! Crayons! Color crayons!

Sunshine: Where did you go to kindergarten?


Scene 5: Walking in the Hallway

Sunshine: It smells weird in the hallway today.

Clueless: It smells like my cousin's feet.


Scene 6: The Classroom

Ms. Woes: PITA, someone is knocking on the door. Could you see who it is?

PITA: OK, but I'm not letting them in unless they know the password.

Ms. Woes: What's the password?

PITA: Mustard. The password is Mustard.