I Read Banned Books

This one has been percolating and marinating for four days.  That’s how long it has been since Monkey Boy showered or even changed his clothes.  I know.  I am more horrified than you are; trust me.  I just do not understand why he has not caught on to the personal hygiene thing. At 15 and a half years old (and supposedly interested in girls), he does not bathe unless he is directly instructed to do so.  I have not said anything purposely to him or to Boog to see how long it will go before he bathes, but now I am at the point of going psycho hose beast apeshit Wicked Stepmonster on him with these in the driveway for the sake of good old fashioned public humiliation:

You are probably thinking “it cannot be that bad.”  Well, it is worse than that bad, and I just don’t understand it.  I have spent every summer and winter break for the last five years trying to “get” Monkey Boy.  He only started to do this after he moved back to live with Sueless Sue in the commune when he began fifth grade.  When he was with Boog and me full time, he bathed once (sometimes twice) daily and was wearing deodorant in fourth grade.  Boog and I have talked to him about personal hygiene both separately and together.  Monkey Boy knows the rules and expectations when he is with us, yet we deal with this each and every time he is here.

I blame his mother.  I really do not think he would do it here if she does not either model it or allow it to happen there.  This is doubly frustrating for me as a school administrator.  I cannot tell you how many times I have placed that call to the Department of Family Services for a student that is obviously being neglected.  I shudder to think that one of his teachers or an administrator is thinking the same thing about Monkey Boy.  It is past time for this to be addressed with her.  In the meantime, the beatings will continue until hygiene improves.

A wicked stepmonster hosed her Monkey Boy and

Very roughly scrubbed him up and down,

Up and down, up and down.

And while she skinned him, she sang:

“I’ll ride your ass forever

I’ll haunt you always,

As long as I’m living,

My project you’ll be.”

I often profess to know everything, but today my superior intellect was not completely visible.  I rarely admit I am wrong; therefore, this is going to be one of those red-letter days on I Read Banned Books.  Grab some popcorn.  Get comfortable.

Boog woke me around five o’clock this morning when he came home from work to point out that I probably should get up and go to get in line for the iPhone at the nearby AT & T store.  He noted that there were 10 people already in line.  I rolled over and attempted to go back to sleep because in my mind I was thinking that I would get one no matter what time I went.  After another hour of tossing and turning, I got out of bed and started surfing the web and plurking about going out in a bit to get my phone.  Real world and virtual friends were talking about all the iTards, and I even chuckled that I was an iTard, too.  Hell, I wanted one last June but decided to wait until the hype and price went down and for improvements to be made.  I have worked myself up for the last couple of months for today.  I was getting an iPhone one way or another. By doing so, I totally set myself up to be sore, sour, and sullen for the rest of the day (and possibly the next week or more). I should have known better. I was not raised to put my wants ahead of my needs.

I set out about 8:15 this morning to go to the closest AT & T store to purchase the coveted iPhone.  I stopped on the way to grab a coffee at the other place I covet.  As I drove around the corner, sucking up the venti Iced Quad Shot of goodness, I saw the line.  There had to be at least 200 people in it.  I parked Ruby.  I contemplated leaving her and standing in said line, but then I had a better idea.  I would go to the next closest one since it is very new and a little out of the way.  As I drove over to AT & T store #2, I thought:  if the line is half the other store’s (about 100), I’ll jump in it.  As I rounded the corner again, I saw that the line was equal to or greater that of the first store’s.  Then the insanity really took over.  I decided to go to a third AT & T store near In Da Hood Middle School because “it always looks like a ghost town when I drive by there in the late afternoon.”  As I rounded the corner, I was met with disappointment a third time.  The store had been converted to a My Wireless store and was “an authorized AT & T dealer.” It was not open until 10 AM.  Since there was no line forming, I knew that they were not going to be selling any iPhones.

After adding my disgust to Plurk and Twitter, I lost my mind and drove to the Apple store at the Fashion Show Mall.  As it was before 10 AM, I got a great parking spot in a section of the garage near the exact corridor in which the Apple store was located.  I walked in and mumbled to myself that I would wait in the line if it was no more than 100 people.  Not surprisingly, the line was 250 people minimum and was queued down a service hallway.  Everyone was patient and energetic, and one guy said he had only been waiting for three hours but was still about 100 people away from the door.  There were easily another 25 people in line inside the store.  I decided it was foolish for me to wait, walked out to the garage, and opted to head home.

As soon as I got in the car, I pointed Ruby in the direction of the second Apple store at the new Town Square.  The voices began to argue in my head:

“You should go home and go back to sleep.  Your Treo is just PMSing, and you do not need an iPhone.”

“Yeah, I don’t need it.  I want it, and I am going to have it today … with Bluetooth on top.”

“You should wait for another day.  They’ll have plenty.”

“You should go find another AT & T store in this neighborhood and check there. They are bound to have one somewhere in this town.”

“You are a spoiled brat.”

“You are a slave to the man.”

“Nobody tells CajunVegan no!”

As I yelled for the voices to shut the fuck up and let me think, I saw the queue of all queues winding about Town Square.  I shit you not when I tell you that there were between 400 and 500 people waiting outside in near 100 degree and rising heat.  In my best Cartman voice, I literally rolled down the window and yelled at the employee handing out bottles of water, “Screw you guys!  I’m going home!”  And, then a light shone, and another voice spoke to me in a sing-songy Madonnaish way,  “You are living in a material world, and you are a material girl.  You know that you are living in a material world, and you are a material girl.”

All I could think was, you know I am acting very selfishly, and this hunt is utterly ridiculous.  I should go straight home.  That was my intention anyway.  I drove back by the first AT & T store one more time, telling myself “just in case.”  My heart skipped a beat when I saw only seven people standing in line outside the store.  I threw the car into park, grabbed my purse, and got in line.  I asked the guy in front of me how long he had been waiting.  He said, “I just got here.”  A courtesy representative walked over to the two of us, and we were informed that this store was officially out of iPhones and that most of the stores in the Las Vegas Valley were sold out or close to being there.  He stated that they were taking orders and that the iPhones would be in store in another five days or so.  That is when it hit me, and I walked back to my car.  I crossed the line at prepaying for an electronic device that I may or may not be getting in another five days.  Besides, he could not say if there would be a nightmarish line for the pick-up day and could not guarantee that the phone would arrive in five days.

All along, I knew that I was going to walk out of the store today with an iPhone in hand.  While that did not happen, it will occur another day in the future when I just happen to walk in an Apple store or an AT & T store, and the iPhone just happens to be in stock that day.  In the meantime, I will be happy with my Treo, pain in the ass that she is lately.

As I edited this entry, I stopped briefly to check my Gmail account, and what I found as today’s quote of the day speaks volumes:

“The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.”

~ Socrates

I suppose I do not know everything, and I am really an iTard after all.

This post marks the first in my second year as a weekly poster on Thursday Thirteen.  Since I rarely talk about myself on this blog (rolling eyes at my haters and Boog), I thought you would like to hear more about how fucking fabulous I am.  Please hold your applause, and humor me by reading about my 13 current obsessions.  Sadly, there are more than 13; however, I am going into detail, so I don’t want to make this post TLDR.*

1.  Promotion - Why worry when I can obsess?  The last interview is still a possibility as no one has been appointed or moved to that position.  I put my name in on five (5) new openings this week.  Those who obsess get ahead in life.

2.  Publication - As if I needed another obsession besides this blog and the Cult of Insanity, I want to see MY writing in print in bookstores everywhere no later than the end of 2011.  That’s when I turn 40.  I am writing more now than I ever did.  Maybe if the right people see this blog, I’ll get discovered.  Pimp me out, but don’t steal my shit.

3.  Plurk - For the past few weeks, this little obsession is the first second thing I think about in the morning (Coffee is always the first.) and the last thing that crosses my mind at night.  Obsessively, I wrote a song about Plurkin.’ Pathetically, I have been dreaming about Plurk and caught myself mlurking (mobile plurking) on the toilet in the movie theater on Sunday.  Clearly, I am going to have to face it; I’m addicted to Plurk.

4.  Photobucket - This obsession goes hand in hand with Plurk.  I am constantly looking for original material, especially in the smiley realm.  If I could only figure out the copy of Adobe Photoshop CS3 I stole illegally copied have the rights to own my home computer via the district’s license, I would bedazzle some of my own instead of obsessively searching for the latest and greatest visual for a smack down.

5.  Google Reader - Until very recently, I had all my favorite blogs and daily guilty pleasure websites bookmarked in my sidebar, and I clicked away each and every day.  On the recommendation of several real world and Twitter and Plurk friends, I decided to try Google Reader.  I am affectionately and obsessively referring to GR as my lover now.  I don’t know why I resisted for so long.  I love all of the features (that I have figured out), and I want to start sharing some of my reads in the sidebar of this blog.  That brings me to the next one.

6.  WordPress - GRRRRRRRR! I am completed irritated and confused by certain aspects of WordPress, particularly plug-ins.  As a perfectionist, I am too proud to ask for help.  I am trying to set up multiple features on my template that I just cannot figure out.  This one may only be frustration, but I am going to lose my religion trying to get it right.  (Those of you who know my borderline agnosticism and loathe for Bible thumpers are giggling at that line.)

7.  Clutter - I am obsessively organized.  I bitch, moan, and complain about clutter constantly around the house and at work.  Yet I do nothing to fix it except read self-help books and blogs.  If I showed you a picture of my Monica’s secret closet right now, you would gasp audibly and say in your best Chandleresque voice: “He he he he … You’re messy … I married Fred Sanford.” On the other hand, I also believe that a clean desk is the sign of a cluttered mind, and I want my bookshelves to be color-coordinated and/or alphabetized.

8.  Monkey Boy’s Stankonia - On the advice of my Pleeps, I will use duct tape, make him stand in The Terrorist’s wade pool in the backyard, use the HOSE HOSE HOSE, apply copious amounts of Lava Soap followed by “stink pretty” soap, and scrub him raw with a wire brush.  How’s that for obsession?   I decreed on Monday that he is subject to a daily inspection until further notice (August 11).  I am considering watching him apply the anti-perspirant/deodorant he refuses to wear and sending in Boog for his twice or thrice daily shower detail.  And speaking of the love of my life, let’s move on to Boog.

9.  Boog’s snoring - I have no room to talk because I snore “when I am congested,” but here goes. I harbor a secret, vengeful, obsessive desire to smother him with his pillow while he sleeps.  Yes, I’ve tried to obligatory pillow over my own head, poking and kicking him with “turn over, Boog,” and wearing the neon foam earplugs.  We recently purchased his and hers humidifiers for our nightstands.  We take turns sleeping on the couch when we really need the rest.  Boog even had a septoplasty less than a year ago.  I am getting desperate at this point which is why I say it has become an obsession.  Do you think a Snore Pillow purchase is wishful thinking?  P.S. And when he isn’t snoring, he’s twitching and talking about World of Warcraft in his sleep.

10.  Craig Ferguson - He’s been making me laugh out loud forever, but he keeps me company from 12:35 AM until 1:35 AM weeknights.  He should really “Cut that out!” because I want to sleep in and have to deal with Boog’s snoring.  He addresses himself as “TV’s Craig Ferguson.”  Are you sure he isn’t on Plurk?

11.  Tattoo - I am getting inked sooner than later.  No, I won’t tell you what, where, when, or who.  It will be custom, and I don’t want anyone thieving my idea.  It will be my first (and possibly only), so I want to keep it a big ass secret as long as I can.   The only difference between tattooed and non-tattooed people is that tattooed people are way more cool and can kick your ass.

12.  Smoothies - Can you believe that it is near impossible to get a snow cone in Las Vegas?  Well, it is.  That is when Boog and I say:  “It’s smoothie time!”  Don’t confuse Smoothie Time with Business Time, but it runs a close second when it is eleventy billion degrees in July and August.  Besides, Tropical Smoothie has happy hour twofers on weekdays from 4-6 PM.  Oh, yeah, we love the Jamba and the King too.

13.  iPhone - The real question is:  Should I camp out or not?  It is mine tomorrow!

The sun’ll come out
Tomorrow
So ya gotta hang on
‘Til tomorrow
Come what may
Tomorrow! Tomorrow!
I love ya Tomorrow!
You’re always
A day
A way!

As far as you are concerned, readers, love me or hate me; it’s still an obsession.  Leave me some loving in the comment box.  How’s that for obsessive?

*Too Long Didn’t Read is a Boogism.  Did you finish ALL of it?  That would make you a little obsessive.

• As this title suggests, I am all over the place and missing Waffle House.  According to the website, the closest one to Las Vegas is in Goodyear, AZ.  I’m  thinking:  ROAD TRIP!

• I have a bad case of the DW’s (Don’t Wanna’s).  It was so bad that I took a four-hour nap on Monday, and I stayed away from Plurk almost all day.

• We saw Hancock on Sunday.  Will Smith + Spandex + Charlize Theron + Jason Bateman + Peter Berg’s direction =  satisfaction guaranteed.  During the movie, a real-life Hancock kicked a “punk ass bitch” drunk’s ass for talking and smoking during the movie. First, he smacked him upside the head then he threw him over a row of seats when PAB swung back and did not connect.  PAB flicked his cigarette at him when walking out, and the beat down continued.  Casino security escorted the real-life Hancock out of the theater during the climax of the movie.

• Stank update:  Monkey Boy chooses not to practice good hygiene.  It is not a metabolic imbalance.  He is just vile and gross.  Shoeless Sue’s communal ways are not helping my campaign in the least.  Yesterday’s post, Jesus Tap Dancing Christ, What’s That Smell?, was the best day ever on I Read Banned Books (with over 370 hits at last count).  I should write about MB bringing stinky back more often.

• Burger King has designer packaging now.  I am drinking from a cup that Sean Jean designed, and my fries are in a container called a Frypod.  I suppose anything is better than The King.  He carries the living shit out of me.

• Pringles’ Sticks:  Rold Gold’s Pretzel Sticks’ friend or foe?  And, speaking of Pringles, I want my dill pickle flavor, and I want it now.

• Is there anything better than a new set of chocolate brown 500 count sheets on the bed for the first time?

• I am reading up on the Eat Right for Your Type lifestyle.  I am surprised about how dead on accurate some of the research is about blood type A people in particular.  If any of my readers are practicing this lifestyle, I would like to know more about your successes and failures.

• We are going to be in the one teens this week in Las Vegas.  If anyone mentions that it is a dry heat, I will put my foot up your ass.  Over 105, it is not pleasant no matter how you look at it.

• If you are a Journey fan, buy Revelations today.  Arnel Pineda is Steve Perry reincarnated.  Oh, yeah, Steve Perry is not dead.  Pineda’s vocals are eerily reminiscent of Perry’s, but he has a style all of his own.  It looks like “only the young” is exactly what this band needed to reincarnate itself.  This clip from June 1st’s CBS Sunday Morning led me to rediscover the band:

• Remember:  Tuesday is Chooseday.  What’s on your agenda today?  Have you told any good lies lately?

Fish and visitors stink after three days.

~ Benjamin Franklin, Poor Richard’s Almanack, 1736

Monkey Boy stinks.  He has deadly B. O.  I write this less than two days after his arrival, so Benjy was wrong.  The stankified pube sits across from me on the love seat as I type these words.  I just sprayed him with Lysol and cautioned him that he needs to stay there by his lonesome, as no one wants to be anywhere near him.  This odor is indescribable.  If there were a virtual scratch and sniff, I would attach it to this post.  However, NO ONE should have to smell this.

WARNING!  Stank alert!  Duck and cover won’t help you here!

CV:  Jesus Tap Dancing Christ, what’s that smell?

MB:  I don’t smell anything.

CV:  Obviously, you don’t because IT’S YOU!!!

MB:  I took a bath.

CV:  Standing under running water and playing with yourself does not constitute a bath.

MB:  I shampooed my hair.

CV:  (Holding back the psycho hose beast and the wicked stepmonster) Tomorrow you will get the how to eliminate body odor lesson.

MB:  Again?

CV:  (Counting backwards first in head from 10 to 1 and then cackling maniacally) I’ll get you, my stinky, and your malodorous soul, too!

Oh, it’s on like Donkey Kong.

In numerology, three (3) is symbolic of “completeness,” or “divine perfection.”  This blog is far from perfect; however, after three years, parts of it are pretty fucking fabulous (like its author).

Changes will be coming around soon in my attempt to continue to be the change, as I promised way back on January 1, 2008.  I will be upgrading to a custom template and adding some special features like CommentLuv, email notification for new comments (just for you, Avitable), and a more extensive blog roll.  If you have anything you would like to see on I Read Banned Books, let me know via cajunvegan AT gmail DOT com or in the comments of this post.  I am open to suggestions on anything and everything on this “new day” for I Read Banned Books.

“This is the beginning of a new day. You have been given this day to use as you will. You can waste it or use it for good. What you do today is important because you are exchanging a day of your life for it. When tomorrow comes, this day will be gone forever; in its place is something that you have left behind. Let it be something good.”
- Author Unknown

Thank you, I Read Banned Books readers, for making me strive to be a better writer.  You complete me.  Now go leave me some sweet loving in the comments.