mrtl

Why Are People Sexist about Shit?

It's never considered unusual for a man to disappear into a bathroom for long periods of time. No one even asks where my father is after meals anymore. This is just how things are.

Ask any mother when she last had an uninterrupted moment in the bathroom and she will laugh. She may even cry. Or she'll give you a confused look and ask you to define "uninterrupted."

::tangent to define "uninterrupted"::
Uninterrupted (adj.): without audience; without direct or indirect requests for attention (e.g., raised voices, phone calls that for some reason couldn't possibly wait, child's informing of sibling's non-emergent behavior, loud unintelligible sounds involving unsupervised children to be investigated immediately, complete silence from unsupervised children to be investigated immediately) or assistance (e.g., husband's keys, child's toy that hasn't been seen nor missed in over a year, determining who is right in sibling argument, television remote needing battery change); without needing to lock the door lest someone barge in.
::end tangent to define "uninterrupted"::

I sincerely apologize to anyone crying after reading the above tangent.

This morning I chose to attempt some multitasking by taking my laptop into the bathroom with me. During my stay I wrote a blog post, archived my tweets (yay for Twournal!), and made a new friend.

::tangent to explain the blorgasm I just had::
To think I was smitten enough with this woman from our donut bonding (included below), this is the current blog post at her site.

I now strongly suspect that we were separated at birth and will begin stalking her -- in the most obsessive yet unpsychotic way -- to test that theory. My focus will be on learning her thoughts on religion, bacon, pie, and ass crack self-waxing.
::end tangent to explain the blorgasm I just had::

While I'll admit that I was in there for a while, I couldn't help but be bitter, knowing that my father would have never had to endure such interruptions as those I had. He could expect -- MAYBE -- someone verifying if he were in there (a necessity after he fell from dehydration once and hit his head), but that's it.

 

Mommy never gets the pings. Mommy gets engaged in conversation.

mister mrtl: Are you ok?

mrtl: Yes, I'm reading something.

mister mrtl: I'm leaving for the golf course. [His tone totally said he was disappointed that I couldn't possibly manage to be bothered with a goodbye kiss.]

mrtl: Ok. See you later. [My tone totally said that I couldn't be bothered with his disappointment.]

Bug: Mommy, are you still in there?

mrtl: Yes, I'm reading something. And my butt has gotten numb, so if I get up it will get pins and needles and so I'm going to be a little longer.

Bug: Can we turn on the tv?

mrtl: Sure! [To note, I suggested this before I went into the bathroom, knowing mister mrtl would be leaving soon. So much for preventive measures in securing some solitude.]

Daddy Long Legs: I'm walking on the floor towards you and I'm going to eat you!

mrtl: [Blowing, thankful for quitting smoking so long ago and that my allergies aren't hindering my blowing ability.]

Daddy Long Legs: I'm staggering back to my web now and will not try to eat you. I will, however, look at you menacingly until you get paranoid and get your numb ass out of my domain.

mrtl: [Flush.]

---

To note, TheNextMartha wasn't following me when this began, so she didn't see my first three tweets.

mrtl: New Rule: Do not suggest donuts then decide not to get them. Do not claim not wanting to leave me with sugared spawn...

mrtl: ...and to say you don't want donuts because you have pizza for breakfast? #thatwontgetyousex

mrtl: That said, I have the best husband ever! (Read this: He knows when I am tweeting my ire and reconsiders poor judgment.)

TheNextMartha: I'm gonna go ahead and play a little game this morning called "Donut Toss" #IntoMahMouth #GoodbyeSwimsuit

mrtl: I'm with ya, mah sistah! Delivery is imminent.

TheNextMartha: So far it's Me=1 Donut=0

mrtl: I think this will be a close match. Colossal Donut.

TheNextMartha: Instant friendship

mrtl: Totally mutual; you're funnier than Martha used to be.

TheNextMartha: Neighbor margaritas=Win. Halloween is my obsession. Martha and Richard= Creepy in the most non glitter way.
 
mrtl: Too bad that was two states and six years ago. I've been told by our new neighbors that this is a sangria street.

TheNextMartha: So you went from a fun neighborhood to a more classy refined one. I'm sorry.

mrtl: SC in between. Too much for 140 characters.

TheNextMartha: So how does one get new early Sunday morning underwear after a Sat. night of whoring?

mrtl: You are so in my head.

  
To avoid confusion, the picture at the end is a FFD (female/female/donut) 3-way Alaskanmama and I had in Portland in 2009 with a cock and balls chocolate-covered and cream-filled donut of Voodoo Donuts fame (where the magic is in the hole and good things come in little pink boxes). Mister mrtl was in the front seat capturing this magic moment, in which AM honored me by saying I have "jaws like a snake." We awarded mister mrtl with a ball for his photographic skills.

Obvious Girl is Obviously Obvious Boy's Daughter

This morning at the breakfast table...

Bug: [looking at mister mrtl's colossal coconut-topped donut] Is that coconut?

mister mrtl: Obviously.

mrtl: mister mrtl! It's obvious it's not obvious to her if she's asking. [As if this weren't obvious to him.]

mister mrtl: You're so right, mrtl. You're obviously brilliant. [I don't remember what he really said, but it surely was something like this.]

A few minutes later...

mister mrtl: [putting second donut on his plate, which he did finish, assuring that he will puke on the golf course today] Do you know what they call these?

Bug: Donuts. [Include sarcastic "DUH" tone.]

mrtl: The obvious girl is obviously the daughter of obvious boy.

mister mrtl: [obviously humbled by his daughter's obvious brilliance] ... Yes. Colossal donuts.

Update: No, her mouth was not big enough. She cleaned most of the chocolate and sprinkles off the second half before seceding victory to the donut.

 

Gonna Have to Face It, I'd Rather Be Addicted to Drugs

How long does it take to form a habit?

Googling is useless, and I don't care enough to dig deeper. The length of time I've allowed has far surpassed any of the results listed.

At the beginning of March, 2009, I started taking medication for ADHD. I'm still sorting through my thoughts about the pros and cons of my treatment, but one immediate and much-appreciated side effect has been with my weight.

I've talked a lot on this blog about my struggles with weight loss, no surprise being someone who loves taste, lacks focus and follow-through, and is more driven by being comfortable than by goals. The medication that cleared my brain managed to suppress my appetite so much that I had to make a conscious effort to remember to eat. Suddenly I could relate to people who see food simply as fuel. I stopped getting excited about flavor and indulging. Alas, even pie no longer excited me. Meh.

My weight dropped drastically; at my lowest I was 8 pounds lighter than when I graduated from high school.

::intermission to laugh sarcastically and get a tissue::
...and acknowledge that there are worse problems to have, I know. I'm the first to credit the medication for my inability to remember to eat and lose weight effortlessly.
::end intermission to laugh sarcastically and get a tissue::

Our move to Virginia posed a dilemma. I am allergic to the air in the mid-Atlantic region, and I'd already learned from our visits home that allergy medications unfortunately don't play well with my ADHD prescription. I'd worked with my doctor to tweak the medications, doses, and scheduling to no avail. The drugs aren't supposed to conflict, but I'm apparently an exception. Whatever the ADHD medication does, every allergy medication I've tried cancels it out. Adding insult to injury, the allergy medication doesn't do anything about my allergies when it's inhibiting my ADHD script.

Just when I learned that the choking coughing fits I get sometimes are allergy-induced asthma. Just when I discovered that using my inhaler -- which also conflicts with my script -- stops them and lets me breathe to the point that I have a burning desire to take up running. I lasted a week in Virginia before become insane enough from the excess of snot, coughing, and aching itchy eyes that I decided I'd rather have a muddled brain and stopped taking my prescription. Besides, I WANT to run and be active, so I'll keep my weight in check with that, right? FML

So much for habits forming. You'd think that after living with a reduced diet for 26 months, my body would have adapted to the new eating routine. Being off my ADHD script for about a week now, I am a bottomless pit of mindless eating. It's like I'm making up for 26 months of eating so little. I feel physically awful, sluggish, and exhausted by the thought alone of having Jem full-time with me until she starts kindergarten in the fall. The weirdest thing is that I feel *huge,* even though I'm still lighter than I was at graduation and I'm carrying more weight in my boobs than I was then. Looking at old pictures, I'm shocked at how much bigger I was (25-30 pounds heavier) and remembering my mindset not being very panicked about it in comparison to how I'm reacting now.

I took my ADHD pill today and have added tissues to the shopping list. I'll use my neti pot religiously and see if allergy eye drops pose a problem.

I haven't been compelled to eat anything today (but will make myself after posting this - again, conscious eating), where for the last several mornings I HAD TO have something to eat while making Bug's school lunch.

I don't want to rely on this medication. I certainly don't want to be taking it for the rest of my life.

::sigh::

To Parents of Boys

I'm having a moment where I'm coveting the greener grass and know that it's delusional.

I have two beautiful and sweet daughters... most of the time. The fantasy I had of these two girls being closer than close has not fully materialized. They enjoy playing together and typically get along -- I'd hardly say they "tolerate" each other -- but they bicker constantly. Bug likes to be in charge, but Jem doesn't like to be bossed. Bug is a candy ass, easily injured and extremely sensitive to any slight, while Jem is reckless, impulsive, and has limitless energy. This does not make a symbiotic combination.

For example, this morning I was working in the kitchen while the girls played downstairs. I hear Jem's distinct cry of pain, but not of the hair-raising, earth-shattering, drop-everything-and-bolt variety, like the time she fell while jumping on her bed (after just being told to stop jumping on the bed) and knocked her two front teeth out on her wooden endstand (even though within five minutes she was giggling about having a popsicle). I called down to ask what happened.

Bug appeared in the kitchen, standing with her arms akimbo, a stance that said on its own that she was there to defend herself because she's the real victim here. I told her she's not the one crying and in pain. What happened that hurt Jem?

I had to stop Bug several times to just tell me because there were details I just had to hear. I don't care what drama occurred before the pain started. Get. to. the. fucking. point. child! She countered by talking very quickly to make sure she was able to tell me that she was doing a headstand and Jem grabbed her legs and she told Jem to let go and Jem didn't so then Bug fell and accidentally kicked Jem but SHE TOLD HER TO LET GO and to add insult to her sore butt, during the fall Jem stepped on her hair and it REALLY HURTS ::clutch head and cue tears::.

When I say, "I asked you what happened. You should have just said, 'I accidentally kicked her.' If I need more information, I will ask for it. I first need to make sure she's not hurt more than I can help her," she hears, "Mommy doesn't care because you weren't crying, and she must not love you because when you showed her how hurt you were she didn't clutch you to her breast and feel your pain."

Wrong fucking lesson, damn it. But it's lunchtime. Bug decides that none of the options available are suitable.

When I say, "You can make a sandwich, or [insert other options that don't involve cooking]," she hears, "Mommy doesn't love you enough to cook you a burrito."

Wrong fucking lesson, damn it. So she announces that she's going to her room and is not coming back out till dinner.

When I say, "Sure, Jem, I'll open those peaches for you," she hears, "Mommy loves Jem more and will make sure she gets lunch and must not love you at all because she'll let you starve till dinner."

Wrong fucking lesson, damn it. But she reappears in the kitchen a few minutes later.

When I say, "I'm glad you came back," she responds, "I'm only back because I want lunch. Can I have an apple with nutella?" [This is an obvious attempt to extort love by asking for a rare and special treat.] I hold back my AYFKM face and say she can have peanut butter with it. She holds back her protest and asks me to cut the apple up for her, a small request. I do that, a small act of kindness. Drama diffused.

I'm exhausted.

To note, upon getting to the kitchen and being asked where she was hurt, Jem fell to the floor dramatically holding her aching foot for all of ten seconds while I was telling them lunch choices. She healed miraculously. I'd say that she learned the right lesson from Bug, that the excessive displays aren't effective, but that's not Jem. Jem was hungry. Hunger took precedence. She has my brain.

In the midst of all of this, I started thinking that having boys surely must be easier than this. We haven't even gotten to the hormones of puberty yet! I want to cry just considering how that's going to be.

A reality check is needed. Please provide some insight for me. Comment, please, and share what can make parenting boys mortifying. Thank you in advance!

Having a brother, I'll start us off. I can only imagine the repercussions of these things on parents.

• Boys smell, especially their feet. I can't eat Fritos without thinking of my brother's shoes.
• Boys are annoying and obnoxious. They hit and pinch and poke and stare and breath their yucky breath right into your nose. Worse, they'll hold you down their disgusting Frito-smelling shoes over your nose.
• Boys do their best to torment. Beyond the physical stuff mentioned above, they will tell horrible and scary stories that give nightmares and instill lifelong fears.

Capture the Rapture

Having heard about the "Save the Date" billboards and being completely oblivious to our imminent destruction, I've avoided overwhelming myself with the details and instead focused on presumed protective measures. Since I don't know enough about what to expect and am thoroughly confused about the timing, I'm covering all perceived bases. It would probably be easier just to get more education on the matter, but this way it's much more entertaining.

I'm not even sure if the anticipated events this weekend apply to me. Crafty Girl says I'd be on the October guest list. It's all so confusing, having been raised in that religion that dangles everlasting life with forgiveness carrot for anyone who comes clean.

Pardon, I said "come."

That's what happens when I attempt to half-ass the research by looking at Wikipedia and my eyes instantly zero in on the word "snatch."

There are several reasons why I'm not feeling compelled to seek forgiveness (read this: why yes, I suppose I'm saying that I would sell my soul for these things):

• Justin Timberlake is hosting SNL. I am fantasizing that Zach GalifanowaycanIspellthat will make an appearance for a special "Rapture at Midnight" Lonely Island performance.
• In an unprecedented, newly-discovered perk of living closer to my parents, mister mrtl is taking the kids to spend the day with them while he goes golfing. They'll also be picking up the bikes we have stored in their garage. What shall I do? Why, I shall party like it may be the end of the world but not buying totally into it lest I feel guilty about not spending it with my family.
• I have a ticket to see Brandi Carlile in Anchorage in July with my BFF Alaskanmama.
• I haven't learned how to play the guitar yet. (Note to self to get one and start on Saturday to be prepared.)
• With the kids out of the house, I can have a dans parte and listen to whatever I want while playing with my Jesus Dress Up fridge magnets.
• The after parties being planned sound like way too much fun to miss, especially the one for post-Rapture looting. I've decided to focus on iTunes gift cards so I can get electronic versions of my cassette collection. I may have to get an early jump on this so I don't have to fast-foward through my cassettes for U2's "Until the End of the World" and REM's "It's the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)."

Preparative measures I'm taking include finding as many four-leaf clovers in my yard as possible. I scoff at envious, unlucky "friends" who insist that this means I live on a toxic waste site, even after finding five- and six-leaf clovers.

  

I was relieved to find clovers in my front and back yards, which gives me an added sense of security that I won't be snatched.

Still to be determined is what I'll have for a last meal. My first thought was to make a crock meal, but scrapped that when mister mrtl told me about his plans. It's too much food for just me, and if I don't have leftovers in the fridge and I'm snatched, the smell will be awful.

There most definitely will be pie. I'm still searching for local sources.

For a last drink, I'm considering a scratch margarita or a duck fart. Hell, if I'm leaving and don't have to drive, may as well have both. I'll get mini bottles so none goes to waste.

What's this about being snatched without clothes? I wanted to avoid shaving, so this detail is a pain in the ass. No, scratch that. I will *not* be getting waxed to prepare. How transparent of you, waxing industry! It's shocking that the card and flower industries aren't jumping on this, too.

If I'm naked, can I at least store necessities in orifices? It's safe to assume that Heaven has 3G and recharging capabilities, right?

Written Whilst Using My Unpacked Neti Pot

My nose it is a-flowin'
And so I am a-blowin'
Moving here, I was a-knowin'
I'd be allergic to the air.

It makes my skin a-twitchy
And my eyes so very itchy
It would make me awfully bitchy
But for the fact I'm no longer there.

Uphill Both Ways

We are living in a world with a generation that doesn't grasp how inconvenient life used to be. My children don't know a world without instant gratifiers, and they have no appreciation for the advancements of technology.

For instance, they are not amazed in the least at the special effects in The Wizard of Oz or Mary Poppins. ::yawn::

::Flashback to the summer of 1994, lifeguarding at a local pool. I was 22 and had my first experience feeling OLD getting a blank stare from a 15-year-old girl after mentioning Atari.::

They will never fathom the frustration of annoying siblings who intentionally make noise during an attempt to record a favorite song off the radio by putting a cassette recorder up against the speaker.

They don't appreciate the significance of the ability to set a VCR to record a show, the magic of a dual cassette deck, or the luxury of caller ID, which took the crap shoot out of answering the phone.

So now my children get to roll their eyes when we tell them about "in my time."

Why, when we were growing up there were no portable phones, microwaves, or internet. Cars didn't have buttons to unlock doors or roll down windows. Some of our TV's didn't have color. I remember when we had only a handful of channels to watch, and TV schedules were only available in newspapers or a magazine our parents had to buy.

When we wanted to watch a show, we had to be in front of the tv when it was airing. There was no option to pause, rewatch, or skip ahead. Gotta pee? Hold it till the commercial!

I never realized that this is still the case where the Nielsen Ratings are concerned.

::tangent to whine a little::
Maybe I would have known this if we had become a Nielsen family as anticipated six years ago. Our move to Alaska hindered getting the paperwork, which wasn't forwarded. Or maybe not.
::end tangent to whine a little::

I can no longer imagine life without DVR. Being scattered to begin with and Very Distracted by things like children, shiny objects, an inability to sit still for any period of time, having to pee or eat or sleep or shave that spot I missed on my leg or obsessively strive for that third star on Angry Birds, it's obvious that it's unacceptable for me -- or anyone in this highly distractable day and age -- to comply with this archaic expectation.

I respectfully apologize to anyone who takes offense at my use of "archaic," since Nielsen dates back to 1950.

Many shows that I've really enjoyed lately have been unceremoniously dumped due to ratings. Why?

"People just aren't watching." Not necessarily. If the above article is accurate, the problem is that the Nielsen families are not watching the program live when it is aired. This is so ridiculously unrealistic. We DVR programs to enjoy when we have the time to watch together and focus. This NEVER happens when a show is playing live. There are ALWAYS breaks, pausing the action, especially when the children are around or not quite asleep yet.

"Reality-based shows are popular and much cheaper to make." I'd add that reality-based shows cater better to our society of busy multitaskers. Chances are that if my television is just on, it's playing something that can provide a background. Also, there is a plethora of choices available. The number of channels has gotten out of hand, making planning out any kind of viewing schedule tedious. An acquaintance of mine actually does this -- the viewing schedule -- in an Excel spreadsheet. I'll have to ask if she's a Nielsen household. Is it any surprise that it's sometimes easier to watch a "Top Chef" marathon than trying to keep track of the channel mambo?

If the Nielsen research isn't accurately reflecting the interests of our viewing public, why the hell is it still being used? Why isn't it evolving along with our technology, including DVR and streaming online video? How does Nielsen handle any degree of DVR use or channel surfing?

Are Nielsen families fully aware of how the system works? Are they watching religiously according to that system, or understandably taking advantage of the technological conveniences available? Does Nielsen have some way to gather data to account for other methods of watching?

It's been six years, but I just sent a query to Nielsen asking if the offer was still open. Something's got to give, and I want to be a part of the solution.

-----

Update: Attempted to put this comment on this article, but my computer isn't cooperating with the sign in.

I'm struggling to make sense of how these decisions are made. Am I confused, or is the data used to evaluate a show's potential success or failure this transparently worthless?

Do advertisers think that loyal followers happen instantaneously? Technology caters to busy lifestyles, allowing watchers to truly engage and connect with shows when time allows. Beyond sports or results shows that get "spoiled" if not watched live, it's not realistic to expect even the most loyal viewers to commit to forsaking all else to watch live with the acceptable delay.

There are loyal followers who use DVR because they have kids or schedules that conflict with programming. People who are home constantly, glued in front of a television, may not be those with money or buying power. My children see commercials and ask for everything they see. Does it work? No. It annoys the hell out of us, so we taught them how to pause and fast-forward through the commercials, too. To think that when a Nielsen home turns on a "Housewives of XXX" marathon as background noise, it's driving the ratings more than watching a show religiously during the day since the kids were awake when it aired is disgusting.

Changes are needed. Teach viewers what matters. Don't just tell us that our shows are getting cancelled because we're not watching, but because we're not watching "correctly." Give us clear instructions so the system better reflects what we want. Change how advertising is done to make the data more relevant. Better yet, fix this archaic and ridiculous system that drives programming.

Many channels hijack the bottom of the screen during shows to advertise other shows. Oprah Winfrey Network constantly has a huge "OWN" logo on its screen. News stations will split the screen to include school closings or weather alerts. It makes my eye twitch to consider it, but when the flat screen is as big as it is, sectioning off an area for advertising tidbits (to be expanded during commercial breaks) doesn't seem like a sacrifice. Just don't overlay it because it pisses me off.