By request: Forget Y2K, the end of the world is in May!

Just in time to mark the 7,000^th anniversary of the flood – or is it Noah’s ability to build an ark? – we are going to have a giant party! The Rapture! Oh joy!

Now, look, let’s throw this out there – I went to church growing up, I have my beliefs and I consider myself a Christian. I am not a regular-my ass-sized-groove-in-the-pew-type going person. But I also believe that you can have faith without hauling yourself out of bed super-early on a Sunday morning. When your three-year-old demands waffles for breakfast – that sermon’s going to be preached with or without you there, and you best make with the waffles because you don’t want to endure that wrath.

*warning: religious content*

Here’s my mentality on it, based on what I learned in church. The Bible does not give a date. Jesus even said he didn’t know when it will be. Therefore we will not/cannot know.

*end religious content*

So I find it hard to believe some random dude running a radio station does. He just has money and the ability to broadcast his psychoticness.

Just saying...

However, NPR was nice enough to publish an article, and Julie was nice enough to share… the article itself is long, so I picked some of the high points (read, a close-up of each nutjob featured in the story).

Is The End Nigh? We'll Know Soon Enough

On May 21, "starting in the Pacific Rim at around the 6 p.m. local time hour, in each time zone, there will be a great earthquake, such as has never been in the history of the Earth," he says. The true Christian believers — he hopes he's one of them — will be "raptured": They'll fly upward to heaven. And for the rest?

"It's just the horror of horror stories," he says, "and on top of all that, there's no more salvation at that point. And then the Bible says it will be 153 days later that the entire universe and planet Earth will be destroyed forever."

Haubert is 33 and single. Brown is married with several young children, and none of them shares his beliefs. It's caused a rift with his wife — but he says that, too, was predicted in the Bible.

"God says, 'Do you love husband or wife over me? Do you love son or daughter over me?' There is a test. There is a trial here that the believers are going through. It's a fiery trial."

As May 21 nears, Brown says he feels as if he's on a "roller coaster." What if he is raptured but his family is left behind?

"I'm crying over my loved ones one minute; I'm elated the next minute," he says. "It's all over the place."

Where do you start with this? Okay, so I want to know the proof behind the earthquake in each time zone. If you’re studying what cryptic clues are in the Bible, let’s just point out that the time zones did not exist at that time. GMT, the universal “baseline” for time was not established until 1675, and the first “time zone” did not exist until 1847 as created by the British railway companies. So, yeah … just saying.

Alright, how about the “true Christian believers – and he hopes he’s one of them” line? Don’t you know if you’re a believer or not? Doesn’t the Bible say “whosoever believeth in Him shall have everlasting life?” I mean, does he have doubts in what he believes? Tsk, tsk. No rapture for you, crackpot!

His level of psychoticness caused a rift with his wife? Say it ain’t so!

“I’m crying over my loved ones one minute; I’m elated the next minute,” is his response to the question of how he will feel if he’s raptured but his (allegedly) heathen family isn’t. Somehow I think this dude would be the one ascending, looking down on everyone else left behind (family or otherwise) saying, “Sorry ‘bout your luck.”

Moving onto other psychos…

"Knowing the date of the end of the world changes all your future plans," says 27-year-old Adrienne Martinez.

She thought she'd go to medical school, until she began tuning in to Family Radio. She and her husband, Joel, lived and worked in New York City. But a year ago, they decided they wanted to spend their remaining time on Earth with their infant daughter.

"My mentality was, why are we going to work for more money? It just seemed kind of greedy to me. And unnecessary," she says.

And so, her husband adds, "God just made it possible — he opened doors. He allowed us to quit our jobs, and we just moved, and here we are."

Now they are in Orlando, in a rented house, passing out tracts and reading the Bible. Their daughter is 2 years old, and their second child is due in June. Joel says they're spending the last of their savings. They don't see a need for one more dollar.

"You know, you think about retirement and stuff like that," he says. "What's the point of having some money just sitting there?"

"We budgeted everything so that, on May 21, we won't have anything left," Adrienne adds.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Did this woman just say they budgeted all their money so that, come May 21, 2011, they won’t have anything left? Is she fucking stupid? (It’s a rhetorical question.)

Let’s back up to the beginning and try to digest a little bit at a time.

"Knowing the date of the end of the world changes all your future plans.”

Umm, sweetheart, if you know when the end of the world is going to be, you have no future plans. None of us do.

She thought she'd go to medical school, until she began tuning in to Family Radio.

So, wait, you decided not to go to medical school because you just happened to hear on the radio that the world was going to end in May 2011? WHAT????????? I’ve also heard on the radio about the Loch Ness Monster but that’s not going to stop me from going to Scotland someday.

"My mentality was, why are we going to work for more money? It just seemed kind of greedy to me. And unnecessary," she says.
Um, because we need money to survive in this world. Even if we’re just surviving until 5/21/2011. Plus, sweetheart, welcome to America, where he who has the most money gets the most respect.

Their daughter is 2 years old, and their second child is due in June.
Well, if the Rapture does, in fact, happen on 5/21/2011 (hahahahahaha), that second child is sort of moot, isn’t it?

If the Rapture doesn’t happen, the poor child doesn’t have anything going for it, does it? Its parents are willingly-unemployed psychotic people will be on the street corner, panhandling, with a sign that reads, “Oops, the world didn’t end yet. Need money, need food.”

"We budgeted everything so that, on May 21, we won't have anything left," Adrienne adds.
On May 22, we’re all going to be pointing and laughing.

And now, who is behind Crackpot Door #3 – none other than the man who predicted this mess, himself.

Camping is not the first person to fix a date for the end of the world. There have been dozens of such prophets, and so far, they've all been wrong.

Camping himself has had to do some recalculation. He first predicted the end would come Sept. 6, 1994. He now explains that he had not completed his biblical research.

"For example, I at that time had not gone through the Book of Jeremiah," he explains, "which is a big book in the Bible that has a whole lot to say about the end of the world."

So he's not planning for May 22?

"Absolutely not," Camping says. "It is going to happen. There is no Plan B."

I've asked a dozen of Camping's followers the same question. Everyone said even entertaining the possibility that May 21 would come and go without event is an offense to God. They all hope they'll be raptured. Some worry about being left behind.

"If I'm here on May 22, and I wake up, I'm going to be in hell," says Brown. "And that's where I don't want to be. So there is going to be a May 22, and we don't want to be here."

On the other hand, he will presumably have lots of company.

Of course he’s been wrong before. So has everyone else. Case and point, Wiki points these failures out:

• 1844 - William Miller predicted Christ would return between March 21, 1843 and March 21, 1844, then revised his prediction, claiming to have miscalculated Scripture, to October 22, 1844. The realization that the predictions were incorrect resulted in a Great Disappointment. Miller's theology gave rise to the Advent movement. The Baha'is believe that Christ did return as Miller predicted in 1844, with the advent of The Báb, and numerous Miller-like prophetic predictions from many religions are given in William Sears book, Thief in The Night.
• 1914, 1918, 1925, 1942 and 1975 - Dates set for the end by the Jehovah's Witnesses
• 1981 - Chuck Smith predicted that Jesus would probably return by 1981.
• 1988 - Publication of 88 Reasons why the Rapture is in 1988, by Edgar C. Whisenant.
• 1989 - Publication of The final shout: Rapture report 1989, by Edgar Whisenant. More predictions by this author appeared for 1992, 1995, and other years.
• 1992 - Korean group "Mission for the Coming Days" predicted October 28, 1992 as the date for the rapture.
• 1993 - Seven years before the year 2000. The rapture would have to start to allow for seven years of the Tribulation before the Return in 2000. Multiple predictions.
• 1994 - Pastor John Hinkle of Christ Church in Los Angeles predicted June 9, 1994. Radio evangelist Harold Camping predicted September 6th, 1994.
• 2011 - Harold Camping's revised prediction has May 21, 2011 as the date of the rapture.
• 2060 - Sir Isaac Newton proposed, based upon his calculations using figures from the book of Daniel, that the Apocalypse could happen no earlier than 2060.

There is no Plan B? (I want to make a morning after pill joke here, but I just … it’s just too easy. Insert your own joke here.)

See, here’s the thing, and I’ve believed this for a long time. Every few years God and Jesus have this conversation that goes something like this:

God: So, Son, you ready to go back?

Jesus: Do I have to? I mean, I don’t wanna get crucified again, that was so 2,000 years ago.

God: No, this time won’t be so bad.

Jesus: Okay, whatever you say.

*the Earth News Network comes on – headline “Man Determines the Apocalypse Is Next Week”*

God: You want to make them wait a little bit longer? Prove they don’t know it all?

Jesus: Alright by me. Your turn in Wii Bowling, by the way. 

 

Now, should the Rapture actually occur as planned, there is one burning question (just one?) left – whatever are you going to do with your pets? After all, they aren’t being Raptured with you.

Lucky for you, the answer is out there: After The Rapture Pet Care 

What is this? The short version is, a group of volunteers who do not believe in the Rapture who, after you make the initial $10 donation and register your pets, will come to your house and adopt and care for your pets in your absence.

In theory, it’s a great idea. I mean, I have Oscar willed to someone should something happen to both me and Scott (and in reality, if it didn’t cost $150 to update the wills, we’d add Tona to that now). That being said, just tell me when the next couple estimations for Rapture are, and I promise, the night before, I’ll leave an envelope by the door bearing all my cash that reads, “In case of Rapture – for Oscar, Tona, Booger and Demon.”

--

Because no post about the end of the world would be complete without it - I must include some REM.

OMG, it's worse than snakes on a motherf*&kin' plane!

Cancer patient denied seat on flight

You know, when you first read that headline, you get irritated. I mean, of all the people to be an ass to, it’s someone who is internally fighting the fight of their life.

Korean Airlines denied a woman diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer a seat on a Seattle-to-South Korea flight because she looked too frail to fly.
Now you read this and think, “aww, that’s kind of sweet of them, looking out for her best interest and all.”

Of course, then you sit back and think about the wonderful caliber of people who take your ticket, scan it, and hand it back to you while muttering, “Enjoy your flight,” never once looking up … and these derelicts actually stopped her?

Let’s be fair, it could have been one of a bunch of people you deal with getting on a plane. But in all of the people I have dealt with, from checking in my bags to TSA to gate attendant, I have never, ever had anyone pay enough attention to me to care. If I was having a nervous breakdown (which I take Xanex to prevent when flying, thank you very much), I don’t know that they’d be paying enough attention to me to stop me from flying.

Crystal Kim had approval from two doctors and a note clearing her to fly over the weekend, according to KING5-TV, NBC News' local affiliate in Seattle. The carrier thought Kim might not be up for the long flight, Korean Air spokesperson Penny Pfaelzer said.
Now you land in super-pissed-off land. The woman had a doctor’s note, nay, two doctor’s notes clearing her to fly, but Korean Air, in all their infinite wisdom didn’t think that was good enough. Since when is Korean Air more medically-informed than two M.Ds?

Pfaelzer said the carrier arranged a hotel for the Kims while it attempted to get proper authorization. She said other passengers would be "traumatized" if a passenger were to die in flight, and called the situation unfortunate.
Yeah, well, judging by how awesome the carrier sounds, I bet it was like a Motel 6 or something.

Okay, let’s think about this “other passengers would be traumatized if a passenger were to die in flight” bit. It’s not like it’s never happened, and shoot, it happens in movies and TV shows all the time. (Remember the House episode, anyone?)

Plus, the fact is, anyone could walk on a plane and die – sudden heart attack, unknown health malady, brain aneurysm, and a myriad of other things could happen to anyone on the flight. It seems insanely wrong to discriminate against this woman because she’s already sick. The nerve of some people.

"I wanted to take my mom there for Mother's Day," said Mimi Kim, Crystal's daughter.
Elitist reporter note: Bad transition. We’re talking about the airline fearing she’d die, and the next sentence is “I wanted to take my mom there for Mother’s Day.” Bad, bad editor. Someone slap the editor with a ruler, and a red pen.

But I do find it very sweet she wanted to take her mom to Korea for Mother’s Day. Wow, I wish I had the money to jet around the world for Mother’s Day. Every holiday a new excuse to travel!

The Kims went back to the doctor Monday to get another note, the younger Kim told KING-TV. "Her vitals are normal ... she is fit for travel," she said.
She had to go get a third note? Really? The poor woman’s going to lose her battle with cancer before this gets resolved.

The airline reportedly was still dissatisfied, and left Seattle on Monday without the Kims.
What the hell does it take to make these people happy? I’m guessing since they didn’t wrap the doctor’s note around a stack of large bills.

"It's absolutely ludicrous, heartless and unbelievable," Mimi Kim said.
Yeah, what she said.

Delta Air Lines said it would fly Kim to South Korea on Wednesday, KING5-TV reported.
I hope for free and first class. I hope Korean Air refunded the money. Plus any charges incurred by the doctor to get the notes. Oh, and her pain and suffering. Quite frankly, Korean Air should be paying for all of her cancer treatments just so they don’t have to fear her dying in flight next time because, you know, they took it upon themselves to make sure she was healthy enough to fly – doctors be damned.

A call to Korean Air's corporate office in Seoul was answered by a person who said Tuesday is a national holiday, and said to call back Wednesday. Several Asian countries celebrate Buddha's Birthday, which falls on May 10 this year.
If it was a national holiday, and no one was there, why did someone answer the phone at all?

Am I the only one who thinks their logo looks like the
Pepsi logo?

Korean Air's marketing department in Los Angeles has not yet responded to an e-mail from msnbc.com.
I’m not surprised, because msnbc.com is going to rip them a new one and paint them poorly in the press.

A call to Delta also has not been returned.
This surprises me. I would think they’d be all over the good publicity. Then again, maybe they just wanted to do something nice for the sake of being nice. Are there still people/companies like that out there anymore? (Save for Chick-Fil-A, of course, we know they do.)

Follow-up to the great adventure involving doctors, delinquents and cops from yesterday

“She’s a lot more calm than most.” – the cop, talking to Scott, about me

I love this, because the irony in the quote cracks me up. Where was I when they had this conversation? I was in the back getting a shot in my ass (literally) of Torodol to combat the migraine I had just developed. Which is why Scott’s response was, “She just internalizes.”

I asked the doctor to give me something, a sample of Maxalt laying around the office, a shot, I didn’t care. The nurse is like, “Do you want us to just call you something in?” I was like, “Umm, I have Maxalt at home. I just don’t have a way to get it!” Held hostage at the doctor’s office! However, seeing as how I was able to get the “good” meds as a result, I was held hostage in the best place possible.

Alright, well, here are a few of the most commonly asked questions I've received...

So, did you get your stuff back?

Well, the day of, we found my nook case and wristlet at the bottom of a drainage pipe, both empty.

The cards and the car keys were never recovered. The Nook, however, has been returned to me.

I got a call from the cop at 8 a.m., telling me he has the Nook back. He also told me the story went that the grandma told her thieving granddaughter to give it to her so she could turn it over to the police. Thieving granddaughter refuses. Grandma has to pay thieving granddaughter $100 before she will hand over the Nook, whereupon grandma gives it to the police.

Which leads into … do you believe that story?

Hell no I don’t believe it. Nor does the cop. But what are you going to do?

Of course, I told him (and he agrees), that grandma shouldn’t have forked over the money, should have let thieving  bitch rot in jail. Who the hell holds their grandmother captive for $100 to DO THE RIGHT THING? The cops obviously KNEW she did it, they could very easily find her and retrieve it from her, while also hauling her to Scott County Detention Center – so, yeah … apparently I don’t understand what runs through peoples’ minds sometimes. (Apparently grandma was doing everything in her power to keep her granddaughter from going to jail. Uhh… yeah, no. Let her go. Yeah, you might have to be in charge of her bratty kids while she’s doing time, is that what your problem is?)

Did I press charges?

Given the fact my Nook was returned, he asked if I still wanted to press charges. I would like to see this dumbass bitch go to jail, but not enough to go through the mental anguish of pressing charges over a $200 piece of technology. It’s just not worth it. (Now, had something happened to my car – I’d be screaming something different. And something very well still could happen to my car, and my mind will change very quickly.)

Why am I so laid back about this? In the end, she’ll get judged – by her family, by anyone who faces her again at that office (believe me, none of them took well to this, they won’t like seeing her again), and by whatever deity she believes in. She’ll get hers somewhere along the line. I don’t need to be the first lining up to seek justice. More than anything, you have to feel sorry for her kids, who are growing up with this type of trash as a role model. Wow.

What did my mom have to say?

God love my mother, who lacks compassion (I inherited that, though not quite to her level – though, I admit, there are times she’s compassionate and I wouldn’t be) asks me, “And what did we learn from this?”

*pause*

“To always pick your stuff up and take it with you.”

Thanks Mom. Love you!

She’s got a point, I should have taken my stuff with me. But I was going to a desk not 20 feet away. I didn’t really think it was an issue. I had a couple other people talk to me later and they were like, “I would have done the same thing.”

Why are you selling the Nook?

So, we found the awesome Nook case at the bottom of the ditch. The Nook was returned this morning. But I have decided – and Scott backs me up on this – that I’m going to sell it. I know what you’re asking, why? After all, the Nook still works.

WELL … the most disheartening thing about the Nook case was the fact that it’s at the bottom of the pipe, face down (which means the picture of my kiddo is face down in the mud). I mean, granted, it’s just a “thing” and is not my child, it still sucks. When I think of it, the only vision I have is that Nook case face down in the mud. Therefore, I will be replacing it, as opposed to cleaning it and keeping it. Yes, I’m crazy, I’m aware most of you don’t get it, but that’s okay.

As far as the Nook is concerned – I have already had it blacklisted from my account. Basically, no more book purchases can be made from that serial number by my account. So, I have to essentially start over anyway. Plus, I don’t know what this bitch intended to do – read what I had on there, sell it (I would have thought she would have already pawned it to be honest), or take it in a field and beat it with a baseball bat thinking, “Take that white girl I don’t know.” I don’t know. Nor do I want to know. But just like my case, it’s tainted. It’s just not the same. Nothing is wrong with it, it still works. I just don’t want it. So I’ll sell it to someone who does and go get a replacement.

Side note, we had a debate over upgrading to a Nook color or replacing it with itself, and I’m leaning in the direction of sticking with the tried-but-true e-ink version. After all, I can always read on my phone too, and I don’t need the same basic back-lit interface on both devices. Defeats the purpose.

I don’t expect everyone to get my desire to replace my Nook. That’s okay. Just don’t judge me for it. Thank God for being employed and having the ability to make this decision.

What was in your wallet?

My wallet was simply a Vera Bradley wristlet, it didn’t hold a lot. There were no checks or anything, thank God for that. But it did have: two debit cards (one to each one of my banks), my Kohl’s card, my Maurice’s card (which I JUST GOT the day before), my Bank of America credit card, one of Scott’s credit cards, a Wal-Mart gift card (no worries, it was in-store credit from a return and only had like $12 on it), the key to our room in Disney World, and two Photo Pass cards from Disney.

My license was in my hand, as I needed it to check in, so that’s something. And my phone was with me, otherwise she’d have that too, and then someone might have to hold me back, because taking away my phone is not cool.

What all was on the keys?

My car key and remote, my house key, my mailbox key, the key to Scott’s dad’s Dodge pickup, a key to my old house in Virginia Beach, a ring Scott gave me YEARS ago that I can no longer wear because of the fact it’s bent out of shape because I dropped a car battery on it, a giant blue horse I bought at Keeneland, and all my shopping cards that I have neglected to scan into the app on my phone and I am currently kicking myself for that fact.

Was your car messed with in any way?

No, my car was left alone. Now, that’s not who is to say that it won’t remain that way – after all, my car keys are God knows where (and he’s not telling me at this point) and all someone has to do is wander a parking lot hitting the panic button to find it. I do not like the fact that this is a possibility. I mean, what are the odds this moron will find my car in the parking lot at work in Lexington? Slim. However, you know, it is also seen all over Georgetown. I think we will be using Scott’s car more regularly until my keys are returned to me.

What are you grateful for in all of this?

There are actually a lot of things I’m grateful for…

I *think*the Photo Passes expire after 30 days, so the pictures shouldn’t be online. So, assuming she’s smart enough, she shouldn’t be able to get online to see “Ohh, what this poor sap look like, and her family and how can I torment them more?”

That I have a job, and we have enough money that I can replace my Nook. That Scott’s understanding enough of my crazy delusions to let me do that, no questions asked.

That Jocelyn wasn’t with me. Who is to say that this would have happened if she was there? (Probably still, she would have taken off to play somewhere.) But I would not have been near as calm and collected as I was if I had to deal with her too. Plus, I’d totally be in protective mama mode, so who knows what would have come out of my mouth in that mode. (Of course, it is food for thought to think that, had I had her with me, I wouldn’t have had my Nook. Wallet still probably would have gone missing.)

I’m grateful there were witnesses. Even if the cop didn’t get to talk to them until this chick managed to skip off, at least people saw her and that’s why we were able to recover what we did.

I’m grateful the grandma is pissed. Good. There are times the wrath of grandma/mom is worse than anything you may get in a court of law.

I’m grateful I took my phone up to the counter with me (as I was waiting on a text with the insurance cards in it). Otherwise this bitch would have my phone too. You know I wouldn’t be getting that back. That’s worth more than the Nook.

I’m grateful it happened at the doctor’s office, so when the migraine hit, I was able to get meds for it.

I’m grateful we had an extra set of keys. (Even if Scott didn’t, I had the valet key at the house, so the car could have been driven home regardless.) Like hell I would have left it.

I’m grateful I was able to remain calm and collected and not flip out. Had I turned into a total bitch, I’m sure the cop would have been less likely to help me. I mean, yeah, it’s his job, but he could be an asshole to me, cops like to play those mental games with people. I’ve seen it happen.

I’m grateful that my husband bought me pizza for dinner and a huge chocolate bar. Comfort food. Yum. (Side note, I have not eaten the huge chocolate bar yet.)

Oh, that if I *did* end up having to press charges (read: something DOES end up happening to my car), I have plenty of lawyer friends to call. The most likely candidate - Brady. Because he would so love this one. (Come on, Scott, tell me you disagree!)

What’s the biggest pain in the ass right now?

One – I just got the remote for my car fixed two weeks ago. TWO WEEKS AGO! It cost $80. And what good did that serve me? To make it easier to find my car for this bitch? I half wish I hadn’t done it yet so she could walk right by my car and never know because the old remote didn’t work.

Two – I still worry about her finding my car. Calm and collected will go out the window. I am so close to getting it paid off - don't think I won't be pissed beyond belief if my car gets messed up right as I get it paid off. Heaven help her.

Three  – I had to cancel all my cards. Until the new debit cards come in, I have no way to pay for anything. Sigh.And once they do come in, I have to set up all my automatic bill pay that used my debit cards (like the Sprint bill and the alarm system, etc.).

Four – I just, out-and-out, feel violated. I mean, of all the places in all the world, a doctor’s office? I mean, come on, I’m obviously there because I’m sick (sinus infection, thankyouverymuch), and you want to go add insult to injury? Fuck you. I hope you get violated and see how much you like it.

Let’s see if I can make an analogy. My mom’s car was stolen. It was recovered and fixed. The day after we got it back, my mom traded it in. She said it didn’t drive right. She’s probably right, it didn’t, not after that much damage was fixed. But at the same time, do you really think you’d want to drive a car that two teenage brats decided to take for a joyride? God knows I wouldn’t – it just wouldn’t be the same, whether they wrecked it and it was repaired, or it turns out they were the best drivers in the world. It’s just the fact that someone, who wasn’t you, took your stuff as their own. (And threw a picture of your daughter down a drain pipe, to boot.)

The whole story behind the status update of "F$%k me."

Seriously, sometimes you just have to sit back and ask yourself, “why me.” I mean, honestly. I’m a decent person. I think. I hope.

Started coming down with the start of a sinus infection, so I stayed home from work today so I could go to the doctor.

Now, let’s throw this out there – I love my doctor, been seeing her since 2003. On Monday of this week, she left the office she’d been in for about five years for a new office space, affiliated with UK Healthcare. I’ve dealt with the new call center twice this week and I was not happy either time. So, I walked in and saw Susan, the receptionist and immediately said, “I don’t like the new call center,” and she laughed and said, “Nobody does.” Ha! At least it’s not just me.

Due to the new transition, they handed me a giant clipboard full of stuff to fill out. Information I know they’ve had for years, but because it was a new computer system, I had to fill out again. Alright. And I needed my insurance card and photo ID when I returned it.

I go sit down, and set my car keys, Vera Bradley wristlet and my Nook (in it’s very awesome Nook case featuring a picture of my very photogenic daughter) down on the chair next to me and start telling UK Healthcare my name, address, employer, mother’s maiden name, father’s name (what the hell do they need that info for, especially because he’s been dead for a year and a half!), and other information that, I guess, proves I am who I am. I lost my insurance card a couple months ago, so I asked Scott to take a pic of his and text it to me so they could get the information. (Gotta love technology.)

As soon as I’m done signing my name on the line almost as many times as I did in the refinance paperwork, I head up to the desk with my clipboard, license and phone so I can finish checking in. I leave my wristlet, keys and Nook sitting on the chair, as I’m only walking about 20 feet away and am in plain sight of it the whole time.

Well, while I’m in the process of waiting on the girls to get their acts together to take my stuff, I glance over my shoulder. The chair that held my stuff was surprisingly empty. I looked around me, did I carry it to the desk with me and forgot? No. I just, in passing say, “Hey, my wallet’s gone.” Of course, the girls at the desk freak out and start asking questions. I go back to where I was and look all around, nowhere to be found. I ask the older couple that was sitting there, “Wasn’t my stuff right there?” The older man says, “I saw someone who was sitting at the end pick some stuff up.” Nice.

Now I will give you the God’s honest truth, I didn’t pay attention to the person on my left while I was signing my life away to UK Healthcare. So I don’t remember a thing about her, except for the fact it was a female. I couldn’t even tell you if she was black or white.

Apparently the old man immediately pointed to an older black lady on the other side of the divider and said something about how it was her. I know she didn’t move the whole time I was there, and that old woman is going off showing the insides of her purse, cursing, showing off the insides of the purse of the girl with her, etc. I said, “I didn’t accuse anyone, I just noticed my stuff went missing.” She goes, “But he did.”

Well, at that point, my name was called to go back. The office manager says she’ll call the police. I almost looked at her and said, “You know, this really isn’t important enough to get them involved.” But I figured I’d be quiet and let them do their thing. One of the other girls at the desk told me that I was amazingly more calm than I should have been. Eh, what was I going to do?

Renee, my nurse, went to weigh me and I was like, “Do I have to?” She laughed and said, that no, after what just happened, she’d let me out of it. (I got on the scale at home this morning. It was not a nice number. I don’t want to share that number with anyone, especially my doctor.)

So, we go into the room, and she does my BP, which, understandably is high, and we ran through the usual “why are you here,” bit. Then I cracked up laughing and said, “You know what’s really funny? I hope to God the person who took my Nook was a flaming liberal because I had the George W. and Laura Bush books on there.” She found that funny. (As did my doctor when I told her.) Here’s what’s kind of funny, while Renee and I were in there, a lady was out walking in the back and actually waved at us from outside. Renee was kind of confused because she goes, “They aren’t supposed to be able to look in.” Yeah, well, it seemed a bit odd she was back there anyway, but, what are you going to do?

My doctor comes in, and first off offers me a Xanex, which I shrug off. Eh. Stuff happens. We get down to the reason I’m there, which she confirms my suspicions, sinus infection. Yay! As we get ready to leave, I realize my car keys are among the missing items (why it didn’t hit me before then, I do not know).

My doctor gives me a hug as we’re walking down the hall and, once again, offers me a Xanex. I turn her down. Again.

The office manager then takes me to the break room where I’m, essentially, held hostage for about 20 minutes before the cop comes back to talk to me. Why they wouldn’t let me out to make sure my car was still in the parking lot (as was my fear as soon as I realized my keys were MIA), or anything else, was frustrating. But I used that time to text my friends and fill them in on what was going on. And lamented with one of the employees about how “this is Georgetown, this kind of thing isn’t supposed to happen in Georgetown.”

So, the cop finally comes back and talks to me – there’s a few miscommunciations going on – he thought it was a purse, to tell him I had a Vera Bradley wristlet was sort of over his head. When I said I had a Nook, he was just like, “A what?” Once I likened it to a Kindle, he was like, “oh.” He even asked me what it was worth and I told him and he goes, “The same as a Kindle.” Well, yeah. The biggest thing to me about the Nook was the fact I just got a new Nook case, and as such, had a picture of it on my phone, so I could at least show him that.

So, we go out and he wants me to show him where it happened, which I did, and then we went in the back again. This is when he tells me that he’s pretty sure he knows who did it, but he had nothing on her to prove it. He did stop and question her, and searched her car, but couldn’t find anything and she said she had to leave to go get her kid. He said she swore she’d be back. (Guess what, we left two hours later and she hadn’t returned yet. Weird, huh? Yeah, didn’t think so.) He believed her because her grandma was still at the office and she was grandma’s ride. (Side note, Grandma was the older lady who cursed and swore she had nothing to do with it.)

The cop walked me around the building and told me how someone said they saw this woman and her son digging, and burying stuff, in the new landscaping. But he took his baton and sifted through the mulch and came up with nothing. Then we walked a little further and said someone else said they saw this woman with a handful of credit cards – a green one on top – trying to stuff them between the sidewalk and the dirt of the yard. (I laughed and said, “yep, definitely mine, I just put the green card in my wallet this morning .” I just got it. It’s a Maurice’s store credit card.) Then he walked over to the drainage pipe and said they’ve been looking around in it, but it was full of water and had two paths off of it, so if they threw something in there, he didn’t know where it could have gone. There was a horse in a field next to the office and I said, “Hey, the horse saw it, someone go ask him!” The cop laughed and goes, “Yeah, Mr. Ed.”

So, he and I walked around told me that yet ANOTHER witness saw her digging around in the rocks. I looked at him and said, “Well, we saw her outside the window while I was back to see the doctor and she waved at us.” He goes, “Weird.” Of course she waved. The only other thing she could have done that was more appropriate was flick me off.

So, we saw another drainage pipe, but there was nothing down there. There was a third one, and he shines his flashlight and goes, “Hey, do you know what that is?” Down at the bottom of the drainage pipe was my Nook case. Face down, but I knew it was my Nook case. It was a little too deep for him to get to the bottom, but luckily there were builders working on a building next door who helped us fish it out. (No, they didn’t see anything, so they were no real help as far as that’s concerned.) They fished it out, and my beautiful Nook case, featuring my gorgeous daughter, is now covered in mud, is wet, and is (unsurprisingly) empty. My wristlet was down there – also empty. Car keys still missing. Of course.

Two office workers, the cop, and I traipse around the field behind the office looking for the keys, thinking they could have been tossed out there, but the fact is, if they were, there wasn’t a shot in hell we’d find them. (Which, let’s throw this one out there – it would have been really easy to find my car. Hit the panic button and see which one went off. But she apparently didn’t do that, because everything in my car was untouched. And she best be grateful cause if she stole – or messed with my car in any way – I would be ready to kill.)

So, after all that, and after I talk to Scott and he’s on his way to come get me (because, after all, I can’t take my car anywhere without keys – but he’s got a spare key, so it’s not like we couldn’t get the car home – so nah, nah on that bitch who thought she might be able to steal my car later). I head back into the office to give them the insurance card that finally came through e-mail, and ask if the doctor would be willing to give me something for my migraine. Walk in with a sinus infection, walk out with a migraine. Woohoo! (They did end up giving me a shot of Torodol, God love them.)

Afterwards, the police officer informs me he does know who did it, he’s got enough on her, and knows she’s on probation. He said that, if the items are not returned to him by 8 a.m. tomorrow, he’s got enough for a warrant, if nothing else, but he assured me she would be going to jail. Woohoo.

He even told Scott while I was in the back getting my shot that I was a lot calmer than most. Scott told him it wasn’t that, but that I internalize stuff. Yeah, I do. But honestly, what good would it have done me to start pointing fingers and flip out? It’s just stuff. In reality, I’ll get a new Nook – I’ve cancelled all the credit/debit cards that were in my wallet – the only thing I’m even remotely pissed about at this point is a) my beautiful Nook case is now tainted and b) I WANT MY CAR KEYS! I just got the remote working a week and a half ago, dammit!

So, now I just sit back to wait to hear from the cop tomorrow.

It is important to note, when we left, the grandma did come up and apologize profusely to me. I said, “This stuff happens.” She goes, “No, not with her.” Um, apparently, yes, with her. I really didn’t know what to say. I mean, what did she want from me? She didn’t take it, she didn’t owe me an apology. Her grandkid’s a fuck-up, not really her fault. The police are involved, and therefore, it’s beyond my control. Did she want me to take pity and say I wasn’t going to let him take her granddaughter in? Not gonna happen. Enjoy the cell, babe. I’ll wave at you from outside.

Everything must go, but nobody takes anything!

So the neighborhood had a yard sale today. Woohoo! I mean, it's Georgetown, and the weather is getting nice, yard sales are always going on. (When we lived in Bradford, the little old lady at the end of the street had one every Friday and Saturday in summer. She was, how do you say, a professional yard saler.)

I digress. Someone decided to organize a neighborhood swap meet (I mean, yard sale), which is always good to generate more foot traffic.

Now, after the neighborhood yard sale we did six or seven years ago (in Bradford - competing with the professional on the corner), we ended up with a big, fat fail. Made about $200, sweated about 20 pounds (that was happiness), and watched everyone go across the street because she had all the baby/kid stuff. All I had were books and stuffed animals from my childhood that followed me around and had to go. (Let me backtrack - I still have stuffed animals from my childhood. Just because they followed me did not mean they automatically ended up in the sell pile. No, no, no ... there were, and still are, a handful that I won't even give to my daughter. If you know me, I'll give Munchkin anything ... "sure baby, you can have that machete, just let me teach you how to use it safely, okay?" ... so that's saying something. But again, I digress.)

I swore I would never do it again. I meant it. But our house was starting to look a little bit like an episode of "Hoarders" and it just had to go. Since someone else organized the yard sale, all we had to do was deal with cheap people, right?

It wasn't quite that easy. Poor Scott had to get ready for the event without me, as I had plans elsewhere. (You think I did it on purpose, and had I know the date of the yard sale ahead of time, I so would have done just that. But this is pure coincidence. I swear.) We hauled all our crap down to Chris and Laura's house because 1) their house is on the main street of our neighborhood so better visibility; 2) putting their stuff and our stuff together made it look like more (and it was all mostly kids/baby stuff) so that would generate more foot traffic; and 3) the kids could play together, which is always a good thing (even though, as it turned out, mine was super-crabby).

They got started early, and actually did have a few decent sales. Scott managed to sell the rocking chair that I thought was so far beyond repair I was going to throw it in the trash truck myself, next time I saw it. Shows what I know.

I swoop in around 12:30, four and a half hours after it gets started. Hey - wait, before you hate on me, I brought back LaRosa's and if you're familiar with northern Kentucky and pizza then you know LaRosa's is the best, and the furthest place south I can get LaRosa's is still a 30-45 minute drive from home. So, there you go, I brought lunch. Woohoo. I start my duty answering idiotic questions. Below, actual exchanges...

"Can I leave you my name and number? My niece just found out she's having twins, and they've got nothing. She's not that far along, so they don't know what they're having, but I don't want to just go buying stuff yet. So, maybe you can just save what you don't sell and give it to her?"
Laura and I both have this blank look on our faces at this point. The lady repeated her plea and this time she said something about a "small price" for the lot. Oh, she she wasn't necessarily asking for handouts. Cause after she left, Laura and I were both like, "umm, if we're giving something away, it's to Goodwill so I can claim it on my taxes, thankyouverymuch."

There was this one lady who was insanely large and lacked much of a personality. (Which is funny because isn't it the general thought that bigger/more unattractive girls have better personalities to make them desirable AND if you're going to go offer people next to nothing for their items, you might want to at least have some charisma or ability to develop a rapport to do that.) Anyway, she picked up some VHS tapes. VHS? REALLY? Wanted to know if there were more. We had some in our closet, so I sent Scott home to get them. She did end up with quite a few VHS tapes when it was all said and done. She also picked up a picture and wanted to know how much. I hesitated - I paid $75 for that picture. So I didn't know what was fair. Was $10 fair? Seemed a little under-value, so I told Scott to put a price on it. He goes, "Two dollars." She goes, "I'll give you $1.50 for it." My heart sank doing the math. I can't believe I let that happen. Scott was pissed later when he found out it originally cost so much, he wondered why I didn't put a higher price on it. Mainly because I knew this bitch would walk away, maybe not even with any of her coveted-VHS tapes, so you know, trying to keep the customer happy.

We also had the droves of Mexicans descend upon Sutton Place. Come on, if you're going to buy my stuff, at least have the decency to speak English to me. (Don't get started. I can go off, I sold car parts to them for two years. They never looked me in the face. God only knows what they were saying to my boobs as they rattled off in Spanish.) But, anyway ... more than once I saw them put their kids on the tricycle we were trying to sell, push the kid around, and we'd kind of do that happy dance of "we're going to get rid of that obnoxious thing!" and then the Mexicans get pissed off (probably because we either don't have the prices in pesos or we're not willing to speak Spanish to them) and leave. Don't even make an offer on the tricycle that entertained the kid(s). Hey, screw you too. Perhaps you were unaware of this fact, but a yard sale is not where you go to test drive the kiddie toys. You're supposed to buy them!!! You test drive them at Toys R Us, where at least the people who work there are getting paid to deal with your dumb ass.

Chris said the Mexican women were awful when it came to the clothes. He'd say $2 for two or three baby shirts and they'd freak out. Like they were expecting to pay a dime for three shirts. Umm, no, the sign said "Sutton Place Yard Sale." It didn't say "Five and Dime."

Laura had this toddler bed we've all attempted to get rid of. I listed it on craigslist. She listed it on craigslist. She had it out there and people inquired about it all day. There was one lady who placed money in Laura's hand (not as much as Laura wanted, but it was something and it was out of her house) and the lady goes, "Oh, wait, I don't need this, the one at home converts." And just like that, sale gone. There were countless people who would ask, once they got an answer they'd call someone. My favorite response after one of those moments was, "Yeah, she just didn't want to spend any money." So, when you asked "do you want to BUY a toddler bed" she's like, "No, but they can give it to me if they want." Yeah, well, get in line behind the other ballsy chick asking for handouts.

I also love the lady who rang our doorbell after dinnertime. She bought something (or someone did earlier) and she was coming back to get it, and she didn't know where to go to get it. That seems really mean. First of all, to do for the seller, because what happens if you don't come back? And it's mean to do to the poor customer, because then they look like idiots to the 15 people who answered the door saying, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

All said and done, we didn't hardly make enough to cover the amount of money I spent shopping out of catalogs tonight. (Haha, before you even say it, I was not buying more stuff for a yard sale - I am buying the stuff for other people.) Stupid yard sales. Next time I say, "Hey, let's get in on this, it won't be that bad." Shoot me. Just shoot me.

By request: Ronald McDonald ALWAYS wins over cops

Coral Springs woman orders lunch from McDonald's drive-thru instead of pulling over for police

Flashing police lights apparently couldn't stop a Coral Springs woman with a fast-food craving. 

Well, you know, when you got a hunger only tacos can stop, you gotta make a run for the border. You know exactly what you’ll order, three tacos, two tostadas and a soda pop.

Police say when an officer tried to pull over Roberta Spen, 64, Monday for having faulty brake lights, she instead pulled into a McDonald's drive-thru lane and ordered lunch.
Oh, it wasn’t Taco Bell. Darn. (Shhh, I know what the headline said, but I wanted an excuse to make a South Park joke.)

Well, you know, maybe she was so hungry, she thought her hungry monster was getting a police escort.

The bizarre exchange happened along University Drive just south of Atlantic Boulevard at about 2 p.m., and it spawned an all-out police pursuit.
Woohoo, was it a 35-mph chase? Wait, those low-speed high-speed chases only happen in California.

Officer Courtney Vassell pulled up behind Spen in the drive-thru lane, and got out of the patrol car. With police lights flashing behind him, he told her to pull out into the parking lot for a traffic stop, according to a police report.
Right, and risk the fries getting cold? Surely not.

Spen, though, completed her food order, paid the bill, and then drove her bronze 2001 Chevrolet out of the parking lot and onto Northwest Sixth Court, Vassell said.
Is it just me, or does it seem extraneous to include the year, color and make of her car here?

So, she completed her order, paid the bill and drove off. Why didn’t the cop use his car to block her from leaving the drive-thru? I mean, I know the McDonald’s people would be pissed because it would totally throw off their timer, but I’m sure they’d let their numbers slide for a cop. I’m starting to think this cop is a moron.

Vassell again flipped on his siren and stopped Spen outside the McDonald's, where he said she "rolled her window down one inch and said she was not speeding and she would not roll her window down."
Oh, goody, she actually stopped.

See, this is where I guess my curiosity would get the best of me. “Do you know why I pulled you over?”

“Um, no, I don’t, because I wasn’t speeding. Please enlighten me.” (Yes, my sarcastic nature would get me a ticket all by itself, but my cleavage would get me out of it.)

Spen also refused to hand over her driver's license, vehicle registration and proof of insurance, then drove away from Vassell, police said.
Did she drive over his foot too? Cause that would be funny.

Vassell got back in his patrol car, flipped on his emergency lights — again — and followed Spen as she turned north onto Northwest 98th Avenue, east onto Atlantic and then north on University Drive.
Did he turn on his siren? Or just his lights? Maybe she didn’t think it was a real traffic stop without the siren.

Several other police officers joined in the pursuit.
Woohoo, it’s a party!

Although the police lights did not stop Spen, a red light at University and Ramblewood Drive did, and several officers attempted to box in Spen's car. Somehow, though, Spen was able to drive in reverse out of the box and continued driving north on University, police said.
What kind of shitty cops do they have here? I mean, they couldn’t even box her in? This crazy old lady who is multi-tasking driving and eating is able to out-maneuver multiple cops? At this point I think crazy old lady gets a pass. We do that with the kid, when she outsmarts us, we throw our hands up and say, “Alright, you get by this time.”

Spen finally stopped at the Mobil gas station at 1351 University Drive., where officers again surrounded her car.
She filled her belly, it was the car’s turn. It makes sense.

This time, when she refused to leave the car, the officers went in and got her — smashing the driver's side window and pulling her out, police said.
She just wanted to eat her Big Mac in peace! Of course, I’m pretty sure she ordered hers without glass shards, but the cops were nice enough to make sure her sandwich was complete.

After a quick check-up at Coral Springs Medical Center, Spen was taken to a Broward jail, arrested on charges of fleeing and eluding, resisting arrest without violence and driving with defective equipment.
I don’t know why they didn’t just let the medic at the jail check her out. You know they’ve got to have one there. Seems like they just gave her more time – and another opportunity to escape their grasp (since, obviously, she’s a master of eluding them).

Police said on the arrest report that they found no indication Spen was under the influence of drugs or alcohol at the time of the chase, and they could find no explanation for why Spen, who before her arrest Monday had no criminal record in Florida, didn't just pull over.
She wasn’t drunk or high, she’s just old. She’s just too old.

It’s always the ones you least expect! 

In bond court Tuesday Judge John "Jay" Hurley ordered her release under the condition she submit to a mental health evaluation.
Ya think???

Spen could not be reached for comment Tuesday evening.
Of course she couldn’t, she had to submit to a mental health evaluation. Besides, what are they expecting her to say?

Reporter: “Why didn’t you stop the first time?”
Her: “I was hungry.”
Reporter: “Why didn’t you roll your window down and give the officer your license and registration?”
Her: “I didn’t do anything wrong, why should I?”
Reporter: “When you were surrounded by police, why did you back off and run?”
Her: “Because I felt like it.”
Reporter: “Why didn’t you get out of the car when you were surrounded at the gas station?”
Her: “I always wanted an excuse to say, ‘Come and get me, coppers!’”

Yeah, that’ll make a great story.

---
This really has nothing to do with the story, save for the fact it's McDonald's-related, but I thought it was too awesome not to share.

I can't believe I'm reduced to policing the blog...

“I am an insenstitive piece of crap,” apparently

Note the misspelling in the headline – that’s a direct quote from a comment.

Well, let’s rewind a little bit here. I posted a blog about a guy who got pulled into a pasta machine and was killed. It’s funny. Sad, yes, but it was funny. The writing in the story was nothing short of atrocious.

Now, here’s the thing, this is MY blog, and I can write about whatever I want, providing I am not breaking any rules. Just because I attacked your moral fiber by being insensitive, does not mean I’m breaking any rules.

Furthermore, being MY blog, I have gained my following (which is larger than the 12 people marked as followers) by writing what I want to write about – which is traditionally ripping apart news stories for shitty writing, reporting, or the sheer stupidity of people and/or situations. This particular instance was no exception. My peeps know and appreciate my sarcastic approach to the world, and if they don’t, they agree to disagree, or politely generate comment. They don’t do it by hurling insults at me. You hurl insults at me, I will hurl them back at you, so be prepared.

Yes, I get it, the dude died. Tragic. Here’s the thing, we all die. And have you not heard of 1,000 Ways To Die? They make fun of ways people die, and I am willing to bet that, once time passes, this one will make it on there.

Death is not funny, but it’s a fact of life. It happens to us all. It will happen to you, and it will happen to me. There’s no need to walk through life on eggshells, it’s no way to live. I choose to look at the humorous side of things. I choose to find a way to laugh at everything, most of all myself. What good is life if you take it too seriously?

Have I dealt with death? Yes. Was it sad? Yes. Did I crack jokes about it? Yes. Because that’s what I do. It’s how I roll. If you don’t want to roll with me, that's fine, I didn’t ask you to.

I address serious stuff on here as well – they are more rare than the humorous jabs at life – but they are there. For example, I’ve addressed gay marriage (multiple times), discrimination, murder, labeling other people, death, suicide, etc. Every now and then, there’s that serious side of me that needs to write as well. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – I like to generate discussion. I ask you to bring it on. But do it in a tasteful and tactful manner. 

I mainly write this out of concern for my readers, not so much myself. I know by putting some of this out there, I open myself up for the attacks and insults. (Like I said before, I will hurl them back.) But I don't want this to turn into just another place on the internet to hide behind an "anonymous" label and say mean things just because you can. That's not what I'm about. Nor will I let it be what my blog is about. So I will step in to protect my readers, and those who choose to comment to generate discussion, because I will not have someone I do not know insulting my friends just because the internet allows them that luxury.

It’s actually sort of sad that I had to write this, because I thought a) people got what I was doing here, especially given the information about the blog in the header – where I admit to not being PC and b) I never expected my blog to go the way of reader comments on stories on USA Today. Next thing you know, someone’s going to blame George W. for my blog, wait and see.

You want to get your kid drunk? Just go to Applebee's!

Tipsy Toddler: Restaurant Mistakenly Serves Alcohol to Child

It was toward the end of their meal at an Applebee's restaurant in Detroit when Taylor Dill-Reese noticed something odd about her son, D.J.
Really, it took her this long to realize her kid was odd?

The 15-month-old boy was acting strangely, his mother said. "He was saying hi and bye to the walls," she said. "He eventually laid his head down on the table and we thought maybe he was just sleepy."
Honestly, my toddler says “hi” and “bye” to a lot of things, and I’m sure she’s done so to a wall a time or two. It’s because they are toddlers. Toddlers are crazy. This is the time in their lives when it’s acceptable to have a conversation with a stuffed dinosaur and not be thought crazy, I don’t see why the wall would be any different. Plus, you’re at an Applebee’s. They have pictures of all sorts of has-beens on the wall, maybe he wanted to talk to them. You just don’t know.

Maybe so, but the toddler was also drunk. He had been served alcohol mixed in with his apple juice.

Drunk = sleepy, so it’s all good.

Served alcohol mixed with the apple juice. Good times. Remind me never to order Munchkin apple juice at Applebee’s.

Let’s think this through – a snafu with the apple juice … at Applebee’s. How apropos.

Police said it was an accident; a mislabeled bottle at the bar was poured into a cup for the child. Applebee's said it's looking into the matter.
Are the police sure? Maybe the toddler was irritating some people. I mean, the waitress could have been pissed at the kid for throwing food on the floor, so she figured if she got the bartender to slip him something, he’d go to sleep. Or maybe he was throwing food AT people sitting at a nearby table and they instigated it – and paid for it. “Hey, sweetheart, get the toddler over there a mixed drink, it’s on us.”

The mislabeled bottle at the bar story doesn’t work for me. Number one, they said earlier it was mixed in with the apple juice. Pouring a kiddie cup of apple juice does not involve multiple bottles. Which means this kid got straight liquor because they weren’t mixed. Sure, yeah, the original bottle could have been drained and they had to get a new bottle out, okay, but wouldn’t someone notice the liquids didn’t look the same while pouring. I mean, piss-colored drink in the cup and clear liquid being poured in is very obviously two different things. It’s not rocket science people. Which brings me to another question, who doesn’t know what apple juice looks and/or smells like? Why couldn’t the bartender tell what was going into that cup wasn’t apple juice, if it was mislabeled or not?

Plus, let’s harp on the parents for a little while, shall we? Didn’t they smell it? I would think you’d be able to smell it from a distance. Did you not taste it? I’ve totally been known to steal a few drinks from Munchkin’s drinks. But, that’s the bad mom in me coming out. (Rest assured, if we order apple juice anywhere that it doesn't come in a clearly-marked box, I will be taste-testing!)

What about the kid, if it tasted funny, why did he drink it? Granted toddler’s palettes aren’t very refined, but you’d think he’d recognize it was not apple juice.

"Obviously, any situation like this is unacceptable," Applebee's said in a written statement. "We are working with local authorities and conducting our own investigation to assess exactly what happened."
A situation like this is unacceptable? You think? What else were they going to say? “Obviously we find this situation to be funny as hell, and kudos to all the people who didn’t pay attention to make this possible. We will be introducing a new happy hour every night from 7-8 for our patrons 3 and under. If they don’t puke after the first one, the second one is free!!”

Alright, now, they are working with local authorities (really, what are the cops going to do here?) and conducting their own investigation. How much of an investigation is warranted? Find the supposedly mislabeled bottle, see what’s in it, find the bartender and find out what the hell happened. End of investigation. We know no one will ‘fess up to this, so just figure out what went wrong and fix it. If it’s truly an “accident,” then no one needs to be fired over it.

Applebee's has been in this situation before. In 2006, a New York City Applebee's admitted accidentally serving a 5-year-old a Long Island iced tea alcoholic drink instead of apple juice.
Wait, they’ve been in this boat before? Really? But wait a minute, wait a minute … this one is more ridiculous. The kid is five. The kid clearly knows what apple juice tastes like and is clearly old enough to verbalize “This isn’t apple juice,” or “This apple juice tastes funny,” or something like that. So, yeah, the idiot kid just wanted to get plastered.

"Within minutes, his eyes were glazed," the child's mother, Cynthia Pereles, said. "It was clear he was under the influence."
LITs have nothing but alcohol (save for a shot of Coke to give it color), you can’t tell me you didn’t smell that across the table.

LITs are served in glasses. (In some places, giant fishbowls!) So what sort of idiot mixed one and poured it into a kiddie cup anyway?

In 2007, a California restaurant served a margarita to a toddler in a covered, plastic sippy cup. Again, the patrons had ordered apple juice.
I’m clearly detecting a theme here. Do not, under any circumstance, order apple juice at Applebee’s. Lesson learned. Next.

This one has no excuse. You put the drink into the kid’s sippy cup, it’s obviously not one of the ones the business uses. You were very obviously trying to do something to that poor kid. You cannot, in any way, mistake a margarita for apple juice.

In Detroit, after realizing what had happened, Dill-Reese said her son was taken to the hospital. The toddler was found to have a 0.1 blood alcohol level, well above the legal limit for an adult to drive.
Elitist reporter note: Editing fail. You don’t go to generalizations like that and then back to the story. It’s confusing, I had to read the story twice before I could follow the convoluted flow. You write about the situation, and then, to close, you talk about how this isn’t the first time this happened.

I hope Applebee's will, at the very least, be paying those hospital bills. 

His mother said the child is now fine but Dill-Reese, who is 18 and too young to drink legally in Michigan, doesn't understand how something like this could have happen.
This sentence structure is awkward, I had to read this one twice too, because the first time I thought they were talking about the kid being 18, not the mom, so I was like, “Wait, this just happened and the kid is 18 now? What, I don’t get it.”

She doesn’t understand how it happened? Really? I don’t think anyone does, hence the internal Applebee’s investigation which is in conjunction with local authorities. Does it really matter to you how it happened? It’s not like, “oh, well, it was just a blind bartender, it’s no big deal.” No, whatever reason behind it does not make it acceptable. Unless you liked your kid being drunk, in which case we need to worry about your parenting skills.

"Nobody at the table ordered alcoholic drinks; we can't, so he definitely shouldn't have received one," Dill-Reese said.
Even if you had ordered alcoholic drinks, he shouldn’t have received one. God, what an idiotic statement.

** EDIT 4/12/11 ***
Apparently, as a result of this accident (which, as you read above, was the THIRD time it happened), Applebee's is changing their policies on juice pouring.

Applebee's changes policies after child served alcohol

Observations from the KFC Yum! Center (AKA More interesting stuff than George Strait)

So, if you read my previous entry, you know we went to the KFC Yum! Center for the first time to go see the George Strait/Reba concert. Below are some of the stories and various observations made while there, some pertaining to the concert and some not.

The KFC Yum! Center is nice. No offense to the home of my beloved Cats, but it puts Rupp to shame. Then again, at least the architecture is nice because God knows the basketball played there isn’t. (*rimshot*)

I posted this on FB, but it’s still true. At all country concerts to which I have been, there are people in cowboy boots and cowboy hats who don’t even know what they are. The fact people are posing as rednecks just cracks me up. It does not make sense.

The girls who don’t dress up in boots and hats dress up like complete hootchies. What the hell? Why go to a concert (especially one in which the tickets cost $90 apiece) to look cheap? Even worse, why do that when you are with someone? I mean, you only dress like a dime-store whore if you’re out trolling.

And seriously, why wear a concert shirt to a concert. (In my younger days, I was a violator of this. Looking back, I see the error of my ways.) What’s the point in wearing a shirt featuring the person you are coming to see other than to advertise, “Hey, I’ve seen this before.” Whoopie do if you saw it before, I don’t give a damn. And congratulations, you had enough money to waste on a shirt that time. Good for you.

Speaking of, do you think these people (particularly shy ones like George Strait) like the fact they are emblazoned on t-shirts, and that you’re wearing his picture on your fake boobs?

George Strait so looks old. Time has not been good to him.

I saw a chick wearing a shirt that said, “Strait Girl.” I think that would be hilarious on a lesbian.

I sent Scott to get a Diet Coke. He comes back with a Louisville Cardinals cup. He apologized profusely and said there were no other large cups. Just holding this cup, I felt my hands starting to burn.

Decorating the arena, there was a banner for McDonald’s advertising the “Official Burger and Fry.” I’m guessing it’s the official burger and fry of Louisville basketball. Which is quite fitting in reality – Louisville basketball is the McDonald’s of basketball. You don’t really want it, but it’ll do in a pinch. (*another rimshot*)

During Reba’s show, LeeAnn Womack was out and about (she said during her set she wanted to watch the show anyway), and, at one point, she was standing in the floor entrance right near us. People were about jumping over the edge of the seats we were in (lower level, fifth row up) to see her or grab a picture. Really? Scott asked if I was going to do that and I was like, “No, I don’t want to be one of ‘those’ people. She just wants to watch the show, dammit.” What the hell? Why are people so rude?

Speaking of that floor entrance, the security guard down there was an asshole of infinite proportions. I watched him stop people for no reason, force them to come all the way back so he could see their tickets, and other bitchy stuff. I mean, I understand looking at the tickets the first time someone goes by. But for a guy who is carrying a fresh beer during the last half hour of the show, is this really necessary? Maybe if you’d just pay attention as he walked out on his beer run, you wouldn’t have to be such a prick. Someone’s just wielding power because he can.

Speaking of that asshole wielding power, he stopped a guy who was wearing the most ugly shirt, ever. Like some weird gray design on blue (okay, though kind of out there), and when you flipped the cuffs up, it was the reverse pattern. It was a reversible dress shirt. Load up your wardrobe now, you do laundry half as much! Winning.

There was this one couple being all lovey-dovey and dancing during one of Reba’s songs. Which was freakin’ hilarious considering it was a break-up song.

So, the George Strait aspect of the show was boring. He is not a showman. So, basically, it gave me plenty of time to look around and people-watch. There was my favorite guy, who was drunk off his ass, dancing like a freaking fool down on the floor. I mean, it was white-boy dancing at its finest, and off-rhythm, so entertaining as hell. At one point, I think he realized I was watching him, because he looked right at me and mouthed something. I’m not sure if it irritated him or flattered him, and to be honest, I don’t care, he was entertaining.

During some George Strait song, this couple in lower level seats across the arena started dancing – he twirled her and everything. I don’t even remember the song they were dancing to, but it was funny to watch, regardless. All I really remember is it wasn’t a song you would expect couples to dance to. Eh. To each drunk ass his own.

There was a guy sitting on the aisle seat and he had his left foot out on the stairs, so you had to maneuver around it, which was hard to do in the dark. What a moron. Really? (Scott said when he went to get the aforementioned Diet Coke, someone fell on the stairs, and he suspects it was someone tripping over that dude’s ill-placed foot.)

The people in front of us made us feel very good about our weight. I didn’t really notice them at first. I saw a chick’s hand messing with the hair of the guy next to her, and I immediately cringed because I’m not a fan of PDA. I noticed how fat her fingers were. I actually kept holding my hands up to compare. Scott put his out, her fingers were the same size as his! Then, after I noticed that, I looked at old boy she was with who put the DA in DAMN! I politely referred to them as “Chunky” and “BigUn” when speaking to Scott all night. And BigUn was texting someone all night. I probably would have too, but my phone didn’t get reception inside the chicken bucket.

As we were walking out of the Yum! Center, a chick screams out “C-A-T-S! Cats, cats, cats.” I screamed, “Yeah,” and she turned and high-fived me. I’m guessing she got some evil glances because right after that she goes, “In Lexington, no one cares when you do that.”

So then we started walking to the parking garage a few blocks down. Only I got all turned around and ended up going down the wrong street. Oops. So, we got lost in downtown Louisville and had to backtrack our way a little bit to find it. My bad. And I wasn’t even drinking!!! About the point we decided to turn around, I realized my feet couldn’t handle the boots anymore, so I started to take them off, I was just going to walk around downtown Louisville in my socks – gross, yes, but necessary, or I was going to kill someone if I had to walk another quarter mile in those things. So, Scott helps me, and these girls in a pickup yelled, “Yeah, help her put her boot on.” I said, “No, he’s taking it off!” There were a few more interchanges with these guys, but they understood why I was doing it. (Side note, this is the second time in three months I’ve walked around Louisville in socks/stocking feet – I did the same thing after the even more painful boots I wore to the Gabriel Iglesis stand-up made me homicidal.) That’s the thing, hot boots are made to complete an outfit, not to walk half a mile in. Shit happens, though. Let’s just say, once the boots came off both times, Scott had to lead me because my eyes were on the ground in front of me so I could avoid stepping in something nasty. (Further side note, this would not have been an option if I were wearing shoes without socks/stockings/tights/whatever. Then again, there are people who don’t have shoes and have to go everywhere and do everything without shoes. That’s why they have One Day Without Shoes - which, had I known about it before it already passed this year, I so would have done it.) … and before you judge me for my altruism for wanting to do this event, I almost had my left foot amputated when I was nine because a bacteria from my shoe was pushed into my foot when I stepped on a nail. Had I been barefoot, I would have been just fine. That’s a rare instance, I know it’s much scarier to not wear shoes … however, I’m just throwing that out there, that wearing shoes can be detrimental to your health too.

I have derailed big-time here.

That was pretty much the end of the night. After that, I let Scott drive my car (which was a mistake) because he backed into a red concrete barrier in the gas station because he wasn’t paying attention. If you know me and how much I love my car, you know that led to silence in the car for awhile. It could have been worse. But, you know, doesn’t make the fact it happened any less irritating. I’m not really pissed, except when I look at my car – and try to figure out when I’m going to be able to set aside some time in the next few weeks to get intimately familiar with the car buffer Scott’s sister bought us for Christmas years ago and we haven’t used yet. But hey, it was made for instances like that, so at least we have it.

Disabled kangaroos need love too!!

Woman fights to keep disabled kangaroo

BROKEN ARROW, Okla. (AP) — An Oklahoma woman suffering from depression has found solace in the company of an unusual companion, but local city officials worry that the therapy pet — a partially paralyzed kangaroo — could become a public safety risk.
First of all, let’s get this out of the way, do you really have high hopes for a story that comes out of Broken Arrow, Oklahoma?

Now, let’s look at just this sentence, not even the rest of the story … the woman was depressed. She got a partially paralyzed kangaroo, and it pulled her out of her depression (I’m assuming that’s what “found solace” refers to). But if she keeps the kangaroo, it could become a public safety risk. Anyone think that if you take the kangaroo away she will become a public safety risk? She’ll plummet into a worse depression, and then she’ll go to a school and open fire on innocent children before killing herself, all the while screaming, “I just wanted my kangaroo.”

Christie Carr is seeking an exemption from the Broken Arrow City Council to keep Irwin, a 25-pound great red kangaroo that she cares for much like a child. Irwin rides in a car seat, is dressed in a shirt and pants each day and is rarely away from his doting caretaker.
Is it just me, or does that picture of the kangaroo in the carseat look like, “Please, just kill me.” But you know what, if the kangaroo is attached to her hip all the time, how much of a threat can it become?

At the advice of her therapist, Carr began volunteering at a local animal sanctuary, where she met Irwin, then just a baby. Less than a week later, the kangaroo named for famed Australian animal expert Steve Irwin ran into a fence, fracturing his neck and causing severe brain damage.
Aww, that’s so sad. So, wait, the kangaroo has brain damage and the government wants to ban it. Isn’t that a violation against some sort of disability act or discrimination laws or something???

Carr volunteered to take the animal home and, while nursing him back to health, developed a bond. Irwin cannot stand or walk on his own, although he is slowly gaining back mobility and can hop three or four times in a row with assistance, she said.
If it was such a big deal that the kangaroo be in the general public, why did they let her take it home? I mean, honestly…

Furthermore, the dang kangaroo can only hop three or four times – with assistance – how much of a threat can this thing be? Oh no, it might eat all the lettuce in the local Kroger.

"Irwin will not live if I have to give him up," Carr said, adding that she would rather leave town. "I can't imagine a day living without him."
That’s very sad. We had our idiot real estate developer attempt to ban dogs in our neighborhood, after it was established, and a bunch of people said they’d rather move than give up their dogs. So I can appreciate the sentiment.

Come on, Broken Arrow people, she treats this thing better than some people treat their kids and you don’t take their kids away from them – why take her kangaroo away from her?

Native to Australia, healthy male great red kangaroos can grow up to 7 feet tall, weigh more than 200 pounds and bound 25 feet in a single leap. But because of his accident, Irwin isn't expected to get larger than 50 pounds, his veterinarian, Dr. Lesleigh Cash Warren, wrote in a letter to the council supporting Carr's request to keep him.
Yeah, well, they can, but ten-to-one says this one won’t. I mean, if he gets to the point she can’t cart him around anymore, I’m sure she will be rethinking her “parenting” strategy. Given this woman’s devotion, I seriously think that will involve releasing it onto the mean streets of Broken Arrow to terrorize little children and cause traffic jams.

Neutering has also lessened any chance he will become aggressive.
Well, yay for the snip. You know, the people at PetSmart taught me that a fearful dog is way more likely to attack someone than an angry/aggressive dog. So, you know, so long as this kangaroo doesn’t have to live in fear, it will probably remain fairly docile. So, mayor-boy, STOP SCARING IT!!!!!!!!!

"Irwin cannot be judged as any normal kangaroo," Warren wrote. "He is a unique animal due to his disabilities and will require a lifetime of care and concern for his welfare."
I mean, I think it’s awesome the vet took the time to write that, but it seems like any moron would know that. It has brain damage, and is obviously not growing at the rate of a normal kangaroo, I mean, “duh.”

Carr, who is unable to work because of her health, changes Irwin's diaper several times a day. She feeds him salad, raw veggies, kangaroo chow, popcorn and the occasional Cheez-Its or a handful of Cheetos.
Dude, that kangaroo eats better than I do!

You laugh at the “kangaroo chow” thing – there’s actually a business here in rinky-dink Georgetown that sells kangaroo feed. I laughed when he told me, he said there was actually a market for it. So there, Broken Arrow city council. I don’t see Mayor Varney trying to kick the kangaroos out.

The marsupial never leaves the house without first getting dressed. The clothes — a little boy's shirt cut and sewed to accommodate his neck, sometimes a tie, and jeans or slacks with a hole cut for the tail— are necessary for therapeutic reasons and to protect him against germs, Carr said.
OMG, seriously? A tie. You know you have a mental picture of a kangaroo in a tie and you are melting from the cuteness of that picture. And if you’re not, you are evil, and are probably on the city council in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma.

The 1-year-old animal never leaves Carr's side for more than an hour, often accompanying her on errands and going out to eat. He rides in a car seat before being placed in a pouch when going out in public. Carr's therapist certified the animal as a therapy pet under the Americans with Disabilities Act.
See, the kangaroo is certified as a therapy pet (way to go therapist!) so it’s got to be protected. And I mean, seriously, he is in public in a pouch. If/when he gets big enough this woman can’t cart him around like that anymore, I’m sure she will rethink her strategy. (And I really hope it doesn’t entail putting that poor, disabled kangaroo on a leash.)

Broken Arrow Mayor Mike Lester said he worries what could happen if Irwin is able to regain full mobility. The council last week delayed considering the issue until an April 19 meeting, to give City Attorney Beth Anne Wilkening and other staff time to research the issue.
Yeah, and monkeys might fly out of its butt too. But you’re not going to take it away because of the possibility of adding more non-native animals to the general population of Broken Arrow, are you?

"There's just a myriad of things we need to consider," Lester said.
Yeah, you wanted an excuse to say myriad, didn’t you? Well, good job, but your argument has little merit.

The kangaroo has BRAIN DAMAGE! It’s already way smaller than its counterparts, which means it’s not growing at a normal rate. It can’t hop WITHOUT ASSISTANCE! The woman who owns it carries it around IN A POUCH! The possibility of this animal doing something is slim to none. But, you know, why don’t you reconsider this plan if/when the kangaroo outgrows its carseat and pouch. When it can hop unassisted. When monkeys fly out of its butt. Until then, STFU and let the woman have her therapy pet. Brain-damaged kangaroos need love too.

Every exception made sets a precedent, and the council must take that into consideration, Wilkening said. The council may decide to create an exotic animal review committee that would look at each animal on a case-by-case basis, he said.
Wow, you really think this is going to come up enough that you have to create an “exotic animal review committee?” Honestly?

If that’s the case, I suggest everyone in Broken Arrow go get an exotic animal, find a good reason for having it, and get your tax dollars’ worth out of that new committee.

Broken Arrow Nursing Home owner Joanna Cooper said she doesn't understand why keeping Irwin has become an issue. Carr has brought Irwin to the nursing home in the past for residents to hold and pet. Several residents of the nursing home plan to attend the upcoming council meeting with signs to show their support for Carr and Irwin.
Yeah, I wonder if the kangaroo can predict death like that cat. Wonder if he was useful like that if the mayor would let him stay.

Actually, all sarcasm aside, I think it’s cool she shares the love of her off-the-wall pet with the people in the nursing home. Their lives can get so mundane, it’s nice to have something out-of-the-ordinary to brighten their days.

"Why are people giving her problems when people have tigers and pit bulls?" Copper said.
I agree with the sentiment in this quote, however, I don’t think tigers and pit bulls fall into the same category. Pit bulls are aggressive, yes, but hardly exotic animals. I’m just saying…