New York vs. The World

I’ve only known a handful of born ‘n bred New Yorkers….and all of them wore capes and chewed glass.  Now with Hurricane Irene bearing down on New York, the strongest of the strong are in front of the TV cameras…smiling and pointing out that they ain’t skeered.  Cabs are still driving around, people are still shopping.  Dare I say…..IDIOTS?!

In their defense, maybe they’re just ultimate optimists.  It seems the the majority of those who are staying in the zones that were ordered to be evacuated are quite certain this will be nothing more than a summer rain shower.  That all this talk of mayhem and destruction is nothing more than media hype.  I hope they’re right.  I especially hope that the dude who bought 20 cans of Chef Boyardee for his “Emergency Kit” and put his sofa up on old encyclopedias (leaving the TV down on sea level)….I hope that guy does okay.

I won’t lie.  I’m a lover of inclement weather…and there’s secretly a part of me that wishes I was in the eye of Irene with a microphone and rain gear.  But I have a husband and kid…so my days of irresponsible and risky activity are pretty much over.  In all seriousness, I hope that those in this hurricane’s Danger Zone make it through with minimal damage.

You can visit to get all the info you need to put together an Emergency Preparedness Kit.

Crisis Landing has tons of phone apps that give info on shelters, weather updates and tracking maps.

Red Cross has an extensive Hurricane Safety Checklist that outlines what to do, supplies you’ll need and what to do after the storm passes.

FEMA has tons of readiness info for all kinds of disasters.

Button up and keep safe!


Parental Irresponsibility

I love Katy Perry.  Seriously…I do.  Her tunes are bouncy, she’s beautiful in that classic sort of way and she can rock a night brace like none other.  But did you know she used to have blonde hair, a different last name and sing Jesus songs?  Talk about the cross-over of all cross-overs!

Anyway…if you have a small kid you know that out of 5 million words in a day, they’ll hone right in on the nasty inappropriate ones…repeating them loudly in church, school and grocery store check-out lines;  meanwhile, you’re left standing there trying to defend your pathetic lack of parental monitoring.  When this happens, I usually blame the public school system.

For Cali’s first three years of life, the only television channel she watched was Noggin (pre-commercials).  It was also during this time that she ate oatmeal and eggs…and never begged for stupid toys that squirt cookie dough and glow-in-the-dark paint.  I can’t really pin-point the exact time we exposed her to the other televised programming for children.  All I know is that after that, she started swilling Bubba Cola, walking like a hunchback, picking her nose and wearing peculiar things upon her head.  She also refused to eat roughage.  Truth be told, she became plumb ignorant.

(See pics below for verification)

So back to Katy Perry.  My kid is also a big fan because I have my iPod chuck full of her tunes.  We’ll have the sunroof open, cruising down Slappey Boulevard, singing about extraterrestrials and fireworks.  It was during one of these jaunts that my iPod’s battery died and we were left with nothing but talking space.  So she’s back there, slurping on a Slurpee, looking like a hillbilly when she asks:

“Mama.  What’s a menage a trois?”


“A menage a trois.  Katy Perry talked about that’s what she could have might have did last Friday night.”


And in my most brilliant parental save-a-scene to date, I replied:

“Chinese food.  It’s Chinese food.  She had Chinese food last Friday night.”

Katy…consider yourself censored.

The Compassion of a Child

I try not to let my daughter sit around and watch CNN.  If she happens to be in the room when the evening local news comes on, she’ll walk away, saying “Too much dead and sad!”  But last week she happened to be in the room when CNN aired footage of the women and children starving over in Somalia…and I watched as a small piece of innocence fell away from my child’s heart.  I watched as confusion and worry began to furrow her brow.

In her pure and undiluted mind, babies without food was inconceivable.  I tried to explain it as best as I could.  That some very bad men were keeping the good people from bringing food to feed the mommies and babies.  “But all they are having is rotten rice!”  I could’ve given her the age-old speech:  You better clean your plate!  See…kids are starving in this world!  But I didn’t think it appropriate.  In five seconds, Cali had formulated a plan that made perfect sense and appeared to be a no-brainer.

“I’ll get a car with wheels that fly instead of roll…and I’ll fly really fast over to that world where those babies and mommies are starving and sick without their food.  Then I’ll hurry up and give them their food and leave very fast so the bad men can’t see me.”

Not once did she say “We should go kill those bad men!”  She just thought of a way to get around them.  This morning on the way to school, she was still talking about getting that flying car put together so she could get that food over there.  “I wish I could fly”, she said.

And I thought to myself…my child DOES fly.  She flies over the heads of cynical and bitter adults consumed with political ideals and mind-sets, religious dogma and self-righteous beliefs.  She doesn’t see all of the obstacles…she sees the way in…then through…then out.  That void left by lost innocence was quickly filled with pure compassion.

I totally see the Peace Corp in this kid’s future.

Genius in Silhouette

I don’t impress easily.  It’s true.  It’s not because I’m snotty…it’s more because I set the bar sky-high.  I’ve only been impressed with myself ONCE and that was making it through the birth canal with minimal damage.  There’s also very little I haven’t seen.  That whole “Curiosity Killed the Cat” is a crock.

So I was only half paying attention to that TV show “America’s Got Talent” when they announced an act called Silhouettes.  Like I said…I don’t impress easily.  But this group of 42 kids ranging in age from 3 to 18 blew my mind, yo.  BLEW IT!  And I cried.  I’ll admit it.  I wept.  The choreography was absolute genius these kids dance with more heart and soul than I’ve ever seen in my life.  It’s like 42 different bodies with one heart and mind.  It’s truly an experience to watch them.

So far they’ve done two acts that were nothing alike, yet equally amazing.  I think that speaks volumes of their raw talent.  Check out their performances and for the love of GOD, go vote for these kids next time they perform.  It’s not everyday you see something you’ve never seen before.  (Click on pics to watch videos)

David Slater and the Monkeys

“They aren’t known for being particularly clever like chimps, just inquisitive. Despite probably never having any contact with humans before, they didn’t seem to feel threatened by our presence.”

That’s what photographer, David Slater, (pictured above) said about these Indonesian crested black macaques BEFORE they swiped his camera and started taking Facebook-worthy self portraits.  Perhaps they felt it necessary to shoot down the myth of chimps being smarter.  And who can blame them, really?  Truth be told, back in my early 20’s, I hung out with some pretty cool people who looked a lot like these macaques…so looking at these pics was like a walk down memory lane.

I wish my chronically depressed cat would take a self-portrait of her pathetic self so I could maybe sell it and have enough money to buy her expensive gimpy bowel food AND keep my lights on.

The Redundancy of Depression

I want you to look good and hard at the above picture.  What would you say is going on here?  At first glance, you may say to yourself, “Oh, that’s a malpractice suit waiting to happen.”  Or…”Inappropriate physician behavior.”  I could proceed with a variety of possible scenarios, but WordPress would probably shut me down for inexcusable adult content.

Truth be told, this is the new ad campaign for Abilify.

ABILIFY® (aripiprazole) is a prescription medicine used to treat depression in adults as an add-on treatment to an antidepressant when an antidepressant alone is not enough.

Okaaay.  So what you’re trying to tell me is:

ABILIFY® (aripiprazole) is a prescription medicine that we invented to bamboozle the grown folk into believing Pill #1 is inferior and can’t POSSIBLY be effective because we chemically made it that way, unbeknownst to all ya’ll depressed jackasses out there.

Abilify’s original commercials showed middle aged adults slinking around the house in rumpled pajamas, crying over stacks of over-due credit card bills and not feeding the cat for days.  Apparently their demographic research was faulty.  So they put their swollen heads together and came up with a NEW commercial,  more kid-friendly.

So I decided to try a human behavior experiment.  I muted the commercial and made my 5 year old kid watch it, then give me her interpretation.  Here’s what she said:

“What kind of pet is that?  She should’ve bought a cute kitten.  But not a cat like Tess.  Tess is repressed.”

Tess is our cat.  A chronically DEPRESSED cat.  Cali’s interpretation of the word is REPRESSED.  (Is there even a difference?)

So in a round-about way, Cali somehow saw “depression” in that commercial.  Was it an intentional subliminal message or just a coincidence?  I shudder to think.  Either way, I struggle to grasp the intent.  Make meds friendlier?  More approachable?  Less scary?

I’ll tell you what’s scary.  That side-effect guy at the END of the commercial talking 500 mph and the only words you catch are “bloody stool” and “sudden drooling”.

I made a little movie about this very subject that will give you further insight into this new miracle-cure for the dysfunctional anti-depressant.

I give you…..Abilify vs. Cocaine!

The Rapture: Are Your Underpants Clean?

So have you heard?  On May 21, 2011 we’ll allegedly be smitten by Jesus or smoted.  I know “smoted” isn’t a word….but I think you know what I’m trying to say.  Smote.  As in kick your butt in a celestial way.  Unless you’re perfect and sin-free.  In that case, you’ll jet propel into the skies with Rapture Man leading the charge…bound for glory and all things holy.

Blasphemy you say?  Please.  I had a fundamentalist upbringing.  I’m allowed to have this conversation.  The Rapture was our parent’s weapon of mass destruction.

“If you don’t brush your teeth tonight, you can bet your boogers that you’ll be left behind and have to fix your own breakfast….if there’s even food for you to eat.”


“You sit in your room and think long and hard about what it’s going to feel like when they burn that mark of the beast into your forehead.”

Modern day parents have GPS tracking devices to keep track of their younguns.  Mine had, “Be sure your sins will find you out.”

“Hey April!  Let’s go sit in the Kmart parking lot and drink wine coolers!”

“I can’t.  My sins will find me out.”

And most of the time they did.  At the time I thought my parents had special powers.  Now I see that they were just exceptionally good guessers.

At any rate, I had my Rapture plan all figured out by the age of 8.  I was fairly certain I’d be left behind.  And I was more than certain that I’d take the Beastie Mark…because a kid has to eat.  And when the demons came on horseback….I planned to run into the safe and open arms of Canada.  A pretty good plan, eh?

I don’t even KNOW how many Rapture dates came and went.  Enough to make alot of people look stupid.  Rapture Man is the latest prophet of doom.  He says the Rapture will go down on Saturday and the planet will blow up on October 21st.  I like how they scheduled the Rapture on the weekend.  God forbid someone miss a day of work.

I tried to check out one of the Rapture websites, but it said the service was temporary unavailable.  Thought maybe the Rapture came and I missed it.  Rapture Man (Harold Camping) doesn’t have a good track record when it comes to prophet stuff.  He hollered that the Rapture was coming back in September of 1994.  You can see how that worked out.

I don’t know about you, but on Sunday (that’d be the 22nd)…I plan on visiting Rapture Man’s family radio show website so I can hear the sweet sounds of back-pedaling.  If for some freakish reason Rapture Man speaks the truth….my childhood plan is still in effect.  I got people in Canada.

By the way….am I the only one who sees the striking resemblance between Rapture Man and Mr. Burns?