Hooray for kaka!

I was reading a blog today, and I laughed out loud. Whose? It was mine. Now, as narcissistic as that sounds, it's actually one of the saddest things you've ever heard. I'll tell you why. I was actually surprised at how amusing it was. My mind has atrophied to the point that my own humor and observations surprise me. Damn I was funny. Now I'm a fact machine...well, sort of. I do work for FOX. Yes, I'm back. It's like a black hole you can't escape. I spend my days writing facts, breaking down boring AP wires into something the average American can understand and that won't make them gag over breakfast. And those are the days I'm working. I work 4 days a week at 2 different Fox stations. Yes, two, can you believe that shit? Both the NY affiliate WNYW, and the mother ship, FOX News Channel. I am so messed up in the head. The other days of the week, I'm pulling my 8 month old daughter out of the dog crate and changing poopie diapers. Sadly, I deal with less shit there than I do at work.

The point of all this senseless rambling is that, at one time, I had a voice. A unique voice, oddly amusing and a little too irreverent at times, but unique in its sad little way. I'm afraid that voice may be gone for good. My mind doesn't work in the way it once did. (And I can't remember shit, just ask my husband) Years of media madness have stripped my brain of all the creativity that once lived there. It just packed up and moved out. Tired of dead bodies and crooked politicians and the potentially deadly Christmas tree, I guess. So this resurgence of postings is a last-ditch effort to convince creativity to give me one more chance, baby, just one more chance. I can change, I really can. 

More importantly, I need this. I need a chance to be a writer, albeit a pretend one, even if it's in this vast, impersonal wonderland of binary kaka. Hooray for kaka!

Sweet dreams

"Sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite!" How many times in your life have you heard that? It's practically a fundamental part of childhood, a cutesy way to say goodnight. Have you ever seen a bed bug? Do you know what they do? It's so not cutesy. It's the polar opposite of cutesy, you couldn't get farther from cutesy if you tried. Our exterminator told me (our garage has termites, not bedbugs, don't get excited) they've seen a serious jump in the number of people with bedbugs in the past two years. And in really nice, classy, million-dollar homes, too. Obviously not ours. I didn't realize bedbugs are that snobbish.

Or that conservative. Apparently, Fox News Channel ended up with a small infestation because somebody -- unbeknownst to them, I'm sure -- brought the nasty little creatures in, and they latched on to everybody in their pod. (It was Studio B's pod, if anyone asks) And nobody told me. I heard about it third-hand, as office gossip, from someone who read it on a TV

news gossip website. On a gossip site. And then, The frickin New York Times picked up the story! The NEW YORK TIMES. Writing about bed bugs at Fox News Channel. Talk about a slow news day. Anyway, all the carpeting and chairs had to be replaced, and get this: OSHA (yes, the OSHA) sent exterminators to the homes of 20 employees, and one person had the worst infestation the exterminator had seen in 25 years, he said. Ew, bro. Don't believe me? Here's the link

You have seriously got to read all of the posts. Especially the newest one -- apparently Hot Shot insecticides is offering its product to guests who have been in the studio. You can't make this shit up.

I have a small red bump on my ankle. It looks like a bite. Does anybody have any Calomine? I'm real itchy all of a sudden.

Conspiracy Theory

The Bebe and the dog are plotting against me.

I finished work at 10, was in bed by 11, and fell asleep somewhere around midnight. Begin Phase I. At 4:40am, I awaken to the sound of the dog retching right next to the bed, narrowly missing the pile of clothes I dropped there after undressing last night. Lucky for him. I would have ended up on that show "Animal Cops" otherwise. I guess he thought there would be a better chance I’d step in it if it were right there. Fortunately, I have a lamp on my nightstand. HA! Tiptoe past the Bebe’s room, down the stairs, get the paper towels, sneak back up the stairs past the Bebe’s room, wipe up said vomit. Go back to sleep. 

Begin Phase II. Almost exactly an hour later, I awaken to the sound of the Bebe crying. Frickin great. I get up, go in, put the bottle in the warmer, and pick her up. She’s got snot pouring down her face. She eats. I burp her, and she grins this huge grin, puts her arms around my neck and her head on my shoulder. Aww. I put her down, but she’s still awake. So I return to my room, listening to the baby monitor. All sounds stop in about 5 minutes. Of course, being the paranoid mom I am, I have to go in and check to be sure everything’s ok. So I get up, peek in, she’s konked out on her side. Close door, return to my bed. It’s now 6:30, and I can’t sleep.

Those two are out to get me, I just know it

It's fun to stay at the YMCA!

I was at the Y the other day -- yes, I have been known to visit the gym -- and it was packed. Apparently 4:30 is when all the little rugrats have their swim lessons and soccer practices and spelling bees and thingies. So the parking lot was jammed. Mind you, there were spaces to be found, just not right next to the building. People were driving around in circles to find a spot close to the door. At.the.gym. Because they didn't want to walk far. At.the.gym. Where they will likely spend 30 minutes running (or walking) in place once inside. The.gym.

What the hell?!