...wherein a good fifty people who came to the Cake Eater Chronicles on a daily basis to read said crap have gone on vacation for what seems is the entire month of July.

The little traitors.

What is it with you people, eh? I put out perfectly good content, day in and day out, to amuse/educate/enlighten y'all and you people desert me, like rats from a barge loaded with bat guano, the minute the weather turns nice. Oh, sure. I provide a great escape from your troubles in the winter, but when summer comes around, well, it's a Wham, Bam, I'm Off To the Beach, Ma'am situation.

Pfft.

Get with the program and start pumping my sitemeter back up or I'll export all the labor of this here operation to India. Then I'll sic Lou Dobbs on you. He'll start plugging "The Exporting of the Cake Eater Chronicles" on his newshour. He'll interview me and in reply, when he starts cutting into me for my behavior, I'll say, "Hey, Lou, what do you want me to do? I'm apparently too expensive for my readers. I've got to cut costs somewhere, and labor is my biggest cost. A typing monkey in Bangalore is much cheaper than I am and is bound to attract more American readers, given that their particular tastes run to Asian Lesbian pr0n." Lou will be saddened by the news, but, surprisingly, he will finally get a grip, take things in context and he will understand. In response, he will turn on you my not-so-devoted Cake Eater readers, and it'll be ugly.

So, save yourself the trouble of being flogged day in and day out by Lou Dobbs, my-soon-to-be-devoted-again Cake Eater readers, and get with the program, ya dig?

You honestly don't want to have to wash that hairshirt every day, do you?

Posted by: Kathy at 12:43 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 309 words, total size 2 kb.

Wherever that might be.

Like Martini Boy, I find it particularly delicious that the unions are turning on one another. And they deserve it.

After years of horrific mismanagement, corruption and thuggish behavior, they're trying to find a way to make themselves more relevant in this modern age. Problem is, as Martini Boy pointed out, is that everything they're "fighting for" has now been enacted into legislation, with OSHA and other regulatory agencies fighting their battles for them, ergo they're irrelevant.

They've shot themselves in the foot, in other words, and now they're whining about who pulled the trigger.

The husband's family---his father, in particular---have spent their entire lives working in manufacturing and trucking and some of the stories they've told could and will make your hair curl. What happened to Stephen's uncle, while appalling, is hardly uncommon. One of the husband's uncles worked for Maytag for years---in Iowa, which is a Right to Work state---and, in direct violation of the laws of the State of Iowa, was outed to the entire factory as a non-union member in a union newsletter. Which, of course, led to harrassment on the factory floor. Nothing was ever done about it. Another uncle, in the late sixties, ran a trucking operation out of the Quad Cities. He managed a non-union shop that did runs from Moline up to Chicago. This, if you know the history of the Teamsters, was not a good idea. This particular uncle was in Chicago one time and was "invited" to come and chat with a particular individual. That particular individual turned out to be Jimmy Hoffa himself, who told the uncle, in no uncertain terms, that he'd better start hiring Teamsters to do the driving---and only Teamsters---or there would be trouble. This uncle eventually took another job, but found out some twenty years later that "Mr. Hoffa" had put a contract out on his life. And that the contract was still good, all those years later.

Even the father-in-law has had his own run-ins. An apprentice tool and die maker, he worked at the Rock Island Arsenal when he was just starting out and, partly because of the harrassment he'd seen dished out to his elder siblings, he refused to go union. I believe the fact that the arsenal was a federally run institution saved his bacon on union membership, but I could be wrong. What's particularly interesting in the father-in-law's case was that he eventually worked his way up to management, winding up as the general manager of the first car parts manufacturing plant in America that actually shipped parts to the Japanese. He's moved around in his career quite a bit, but he's still a manufacturing manager and he's never worked in a plant that was union since his days at the Arsenal. He always makes sure his employees are safe and well-paid because he doesn't want the unions coming in. He learned the lesson the unions were threatening and coercing people to learn with their tactics: treat your employees well. The father-in-law did so and he's never had to deal with a union ever again. He may bitch about OSHA's lock-out/tag-out procedures, but he follows the law to the letter: he just doesn't want to have to deal with it, so he works hard to make certain he doesn't have to.

Unions, in this day and age, have painted themselves into the corner of irrelevancy. Most people think them corrupt: which is an image the unions have worked hard over the years to downplay. What I find interesting is that the proof is always and forever in the pudding. When I managed the Caribou, it was located inside a grocery store, which was, of course, union, Minnesota not being a Right To Work state. I cannot tell you how many cashiers worked 39.5 hours a week. These employees were union members, yet the union never stepped up to ensure they could get benefits to go with this full-time employment. They never lobbied the management of the grocery stores to list full-time employment at less than forty-hours a week. I, the manager of a non-union coffee shop, hit FT when I worked 36 hours a week. My employees were elgible for health insurance and the company 401K plan when they worked more than 22 hours a week for three months. This, of course, says nothing of the poor stock and bag boys and girls, who were mostly under the age of eighteen, who were excited to receive their first paycheck and yet were dismayed when it actually arrived. Why? Because a big percentage had been automatically deducted for union dues. Dues for a union they were ineligible to join because they were under the age of eighteen, and, more importantly, a union they had never signed up for membership in the first place. When the story became clear---that they could not work at the grocery store without being a member of the grocery union---they came looking to me for a job. Which I couldn't give them because my store was grandfathered into a verbal agreement wherein the grocery store management wouldn't poach my employees and I wouldn't poach theirs. I felt bad for all of these people. They paid money to a union who took money from their paychecks without their permission and who did absolutely nothing for them when it came right down to the nitty gritty of the matter. Mr. H's dad was a Teamster for years. His trucking company offered him early retirement, in part because the math dictated that it was cheaper in the long run to hire younger, less senior labor, and to put the more senior union members out to pasture than it was to solely rely on the more senior union members for this company's workforce. Mr. H's dad took the deal and retired. Now he's working again, driving shipments of gravel for a nursery who supplies landscapers. Why? Because the cost of his Teamster's health insurance went up. He has to work to be able to afford the union health insurance. I could go on, but I think you get the gist: they've made things so expensive, not only for employers, but for their members as well. There is more of a downside to union membership these days than there is an upside.

You'd think the Unions would slap each other on the back nowadays, telling each other "good job," and then move on to other labor causes in other places. But they don't. They stay in highly developed countries, where in the level of living is high---hence the dues they collect are high---and live off of that, whilst bleating on about a cause that has less and less relevance in said world. After all, it may be the AFL-CIO International but international only means the U.S. and Canada. There are plenty of people in Asia, Central and South America, to name a few places home to the world's sweatshops, that could use their help. These workers are truly underpaid, abused and work in unsafe conditions. But the big unions don't go there and organize the labor. They stay here and cause trouble because it's more comfortable.

Makes you wonder what Eugene V. Debs would think of their behavior, eh?

Posted by: Kathy at 12:04 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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So, have you seen this beast yet?

It appears some fishermen caught this 1,100 pound bugger off of Martha's Vineyard for a shark catching contest or something like that. Apparently, they didn't win the prize because they were six minutes late getting back into port. Which is a bloody shame if you ask me, but anyway...over at Galley Slaves, where I found this, one astute, yet anonymous, commenter left what I consider to be the Best. Comment. Ever.

I can't believe they are parading Ted Kennedy around like that...

{Insert copious snorts of glee here}

Posted by: Kathy at 01:02 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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With a heartwarming tale from his days on a lawn crew, Chad reminds us that, "Stoned, paranoid, and stupid is no way to go through a day at work."

Posted by: Kathy at 12:47 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Not because they're affecting me other than making me pay through the nose for produce. No sirreee. We could not have picked a better time to go car-less. No, what I am referring to is the new and somewhat unusual habit of everyone and their brother of driving mopeds around town.

This is annoying.

Now, I don't mind the new little Vespas. These are actually cute and they don't make noise. But these Vespas have, it seems, started a trend wherein people are pulling long unused, twenty-year-old Honda mopeds out of their garages and are firing them up for transportation purposes.

It sounds like people are driving chainsaws up and down my street.

Now, I can understand why, with gas at $2.20 a gallon, it would be nice to have an alternative---and cheap---form of transportation with which to accomplish your daily running around. Particularly when the weather is agreeing with the desire to rattle around on a moped. But seriously, folks. If the thing is put-put-put-putting along, you might want to get the engine checked, ya dig? You might also want to---and this is just a suggestion, mind you, so don't shoot the messenger---get the engine checked if said moped is emitting loads of black smoke. You're burning whatever small amount of oil it takes to keep one of those things running and it STINKS.

Also, it might behoove you to learn how to drive the stupid things. Just because you have a small moped and can whiz around with ease, does NOT mean you get to jump a curb and drive along the sidewalk when traffic is heavy. This also means if you're going to turn right on a red, well, don't mow down the people in the crosswalks, thinking we can get out of your way more easily than you can get out of ours. PEDESTRIANS HAVE THE RIGHT OF WAY. Learn this or I will not be held accountable for my actions, ya dig?

Ok, I feel better now.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:54 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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I might be a wee bit precipitous in this and I might earn myself a big spanking from my Maximum Leader for the trouble expended, but, it looks as if The Naked Villains FINALLY have completed their site redesign. Looks sweet, kids. Lovin' the gargoyle. (That is a gargoyle, isn't it? We all need more gargoyles in our lives. And particularly in the blogosphere, too. They're a necessary evil to protect us from moonbats.) I sense the fine and accomplished hand of Sadie in all of this.

But, really and truly, what's really important in all of this is that...

AHEM

...THEY FINALLY HAVE COMMENTS!

Let me speak for the entire blogosphere when I say, "Thank 'Effin God." For there was no more frustrating of a blog than the "old" Naked Villainy. All that debate and no bloody way to get in on the action other than to email.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:49 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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In a somewhat Brit-like effort to get along with things, I am commencing my latest Diva essay, despite the news coming out of London.

Today's topic: Most embarrasing dating moments and how to avoid them.

I find myself somewhat at a disadvantage here because, quite frankly, it's been almost thirteen years since I've dated anyone. You, of course, are tut-tutting and saying in a whisper so no one else can hear you talk to your computer, Kath, you obviously remember OTHER incidents from your dating past, no matter how long ago it was, why not this one? Well, you see, here's the deal: I'm very good at blocking out embarrasing things that happened to me in the past. Because there were lots of embarrassing moments when I dated. I experienced much mortification. And I've blocked it out. I've shoved these memories into a trunk, which was subsequently shoved into a back, dusty corner of the attic that is my brain, and, for the most part, has been all but forgotten about. Sorry. You're SOL.

Well, for the most part. An overriding theme comes to mind.

My main problem, it seems, looking back now, was never recognizing when some dude really liked me. I was a clueless heartbreaker it seems. I was always more interested in chasing after the guys I liked, rather than paying attention to the men who wanted me. Sigh. A while back I found a stack of letters a guy friend from high school had sent to me when I was living in Austin, Texas for the summer, nannying for my sister's kids. This being the age before email and cheapola long distance, he'd sent me a letter a week, sometimes twice a week, saying how much he missed me, how much the summer in Omaha was sucking without my presence, etc. At the time, I took it at face value. Even though this guy had previously asked me "to be his girlfriend" in a pathetically sweet sort of way, and I had refused him, I thought he'd gotten over it and was still just being my friend. Nope. I was taking the letters as I wanted them to be, not as they really were. Not surprisingly, he finally took whatever hint I was giving off and moved on.

Another time, in college, I was working at the Econ/Soc Reading Room (which doesn't look as if it exists anymore) and there was this really nice guy, an Econ grad student, Ahmet, from Turkey who patronized the place. I liked Ahmet, because, unlike the Chinese grad students, he washed and shaved, ate food on occasion, and didn't reek of cheap cigarettes or body odor. I liked chatting with him about his country and his experiences going to school on the continent, living in Turkey, etc. Of course, my luck being what it was, he took my friendliness to mean that I had the hots for him. I didn't, of course. This led to one very uncomfortable lunch at the M-Shop in the Student Union. He thought he was taking me out. I thought we were getting together to eat. Whoops. Very uncomfortable that lunch was, because he was offended when I insisted on paying for my food myself.

Then there was Gary, who while a very nice guy, had a lot of notions about what a girl would consider to be romantic. Writing, "Kathy {insert maiden name here} is beautiful" on a chalkboard in the classroom where we met once a week for a seminar on South African politics and then writing "Do Not Erase" on the board next to it, meaning it was up there for entire week before I found out about it, well, was mortifying. But I thought it was just a joke on me. Hahahaha. Funny stuff, eh? Gary was a nice guy and all, but he was really short. About 5'2". I'm 5'6". I stared down at him every time I talked to him. I don't mean to seem like I discriminate against short guys, but...well, I guess I do discriminate against short guys. Sigh. Anyway, he wasn't my cup of tea, and once again, I got blindsided. Turns out his declaration on the chalkboard in Ross Hall wasn't a joke. He showed up one night, a bouquet of flowers in hand, an invitation to dinner at one of the fanciest (and priciest) restaurants in Ames on the tip of his tongue, and I had to let him down gently.

Hmmph. Well, I guess I remember more than I thought I did. Lucky you!

Why was I so clueless? you ask. {Insert shrug here} Beats me. Poor self-esteem? Who the hell knows.

As far as the second part of the essay is concerned, well, I don't think anyone should be asking me about how to avoid being embarrassed on a date. I haven't the foggiest notion. I would assume that you could avoid my mistakes and---ahem---actually PAY ATTENTION to what's going on around you and that might save you some grief in the short term. That might help.

Ya think?

Enough. Now run along and see what the other fabulous demystifying divas have to say on the matter. Make sure to check out what Michele of Meanderings has contributed to the discussion, since she's our guest diva this week. For the male perspective, be sure to visit The Wiz, Phin, Stiggy and whichever Naked Villian is chiming in this week.

UPDATE: The Kid has a couple of stories about drunken fraternity boys and singing cowboys to entertain you all with.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:43 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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I do not like waking up to hear that a city that I dearly love is in the midst of a bomb scare...

...again.

UPDATE: Tim Worstall has more. As does Europhobia. Insty, of course, is on the case, too.

From what little real news I can gather by watching cable news, it seems as if these terrorists either a. had a bad batch of explosives or b. had one seriously incompetent bomb maker in their employ. Whichever it is, thank God for it. This could have been much, much worse than it seems it is.

I also hope that the reporting about what's going down at University College Hospital is correct. If it is, that means one of them is alive and, hopefully, if he's apprehended they might be able to get information from him.

The other observation of the morning is that Christiane Amanpour is seriously annoying. Sheesh. Talk about having a big head. Nic Robertson was doing a perfectly fine job and then Christiane shows up and he gets booted so she can bloviate about how this is because of the UK's participation in Iraq. Sheesh. It took her less than fifteen minutes to bring that up. I suppose you could applaud her for her restraint in waiting that long, but no matter which way you slice it, is presumptous in the extreme. You have a fluid situation, where there is much reporting to be done because no one seems to have the whole story and she injects politics into it. What a little shit she is.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:18 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Well, not my family, because guns scare the crap out of me, but Chrissy's family would dig this article, big time.

{Super Sekrit Note to Chrissy: Note that one of the camps is near Vegas. Take your mom. She could get her blackjack and shooting grooves on at the same time!}

Posted by: Kathy at 02:52 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Have you heard about Tom Tancredo? I'd never heard of him until he said this:

A Colorado congressman told a radio show host that the U.S. could "take out" Islamic holy sites if Muslim fundamentalist terrorists attacked the country with nuclear weapons.

Rep. Tom Tancredo made his remarks Friday on WFLA-AM in Orlando, Florida. His spokesman stressed he was only speaking hypothetically.

Talk show host Pat Campbell asked the Littleton Republican how the country should respond if terrorists struck several U.S. cities with nuclear weapons.

"Well, what if you said something like -- if this happens in the United States, and we determine that it is the result of extremist, fundamentalist Muslims, you know, you could take out their holy sites," Tancredo answered.

"You're talking about bombing Mecca," Campbell said.

"Yeah," Tancredo responded.

The congressman later said he was "just throwing out some ideas" and that an "ultimate threat" might have to be met with an "ultimate response."{...}

So, the guy's obviously an idiot, right? You'd think all sane people would agree that he's an idiot. Well, apparently not. LaShawn Barber thinks he's right on the money.

{...}Congressman Tom Tancredo, the only true conservative in Congress and the only politician on Capitol Hill who takes a hard line against illegal aliens, said that if Islamofascists upgraded to nuclear attacks, we could threaten to bomb Muslim holy sites.

Republicans and Democrats are jumping all over him, mischaracterizing his remarks. They believe Tancredo should apologize. He said he wonÂ’t, and I hope he doesnÂ’t. I stand behind him 100 percent, even as Republicans and so-called conservatives demand an apology. We need tough talk and tough action on global terrorism, and what Tancredo said was actually mild compared to what Islamofascists have in mind for us.{...}

As Doug says:

LaShawn thinks the billion plus Muslims witnessing such an attack would kick their feet and convert to some more convenient religion once Mecca was nuked? Please. The only certainty is that they'd know who NOT to turn to for security. And that would be the nation that nuked Mecca on the basis of simple religious affiliation. The same religious affiliation they personally hold.

As I noted yesterday, LaShawn's position is morally, tactically, and strategically wrong. She cannot explain the benefit, and she conveniently doesn't even try. Her post is barren of substance. She admires the fact that it "talks tough" to terrorists.

Hey LaShawn - then why not threaten them with blowing up the whole planet, you freakin' pantywaist?! That's even tougher!{...}

I'm with Doug. Ignoring the political and social ramifications of such an action---or even threatening such an action---it's pretty clear that LaShawn doesn't have the props to claim she's a hawk as she's lacking in the few simple notions that govern the strategy associated with nuclear weapons, which is if you have them, you generally don't have to shoot them off. The knowledge of said weapons is, indeed, a weapon in itself. It ups the ante.

This strategy is called MAD---Mutually Assured Destruction and any undergraduate political science student knows what it's about. Two countries have nuclear weapons. Does one country fire their nukes on the other, knowing full well that if they do, they'll be blown up as well? No, they don't. The only option to use a nuke successfully is to use it on an enemy that does not have such weapons with which to retailiate, and that is only going to work if said country has not allied itself with a country which will retaliate for it. This is why we invaded Iraq, but not North Korea. This is why it's crucial that Iran not be allowed to develop nuclear weapons. This is why it's a cause for worry every time Pakistan and India start going round after round on Kashmir. But mostly this is why it's not a good idea to ratchet up the rhetoric in regards to what you will bomb with your nukes. With MAD you have a built-in balance; you shoot yours off? Well, the other guy's going to shoot his off at you and you're going to get it just as bad as they did. It's pretty simple stuff, on the whole. But to make sure MAD works, you have to---ahem---keep your mouth shut for the most part. Nuclear weapons are most effective as a weapon when they serve the purpose of deterrance, ya dig?

One could, theoretically, argue that MAD is not going to work with non-nation state aligned Islamofascists. Continuing that argument, one could say that it was a good thing that Tancredo shot his mouth off about Mecca, to let the Islamofascists know just what was at stake. I disagree: first off, we are a nation-state: we will not bomb a target in a country that is our ally because said target has great meaning for the Islamofascists. Leaving aside the question of whether we can really consider Saudi Arabia to be our ally in the first place, it's nonetheless just plain stupid. We will not bomb a target that has meaning for more people---a billion people---than just our would-be attackers. It's not a proportional or rational response. And the last thing anyone wants in such a situation is an irrational response. Second, according to the principles of MAD, if you shoot your mouth off about targeting a certain city which holds great meaning for your enemy, perhaps, just perhaps, you would be encouraging them in their nuclear activities, so that we would think twice about targeting Mecca. Because, you see, MAD swings both ways: they would want to protect their holy city and they could do that if they had their own nukes and let us know about it.

Have no doubts about it, we are not in the cat bird seat when it comes to a rogue nuclear strike. During the Cold War, we did not shoot our weapons off at the USSR, and they did not shoot their back at us because our capabilities were, roughly, the same. On either side of the equation, the end product would be the same: not only the annihilation of our enemy, but of ourselves. There is much to be made of SAC and our capability to strike back in the event of a nuclear attack, but any way you slice it, the end result was the same. In this situation, we would only be able to retaliate: it's one thing to invade Afghanistan using conventional warfare because they are harboring terrorists; it is entirely another to claim that we would use nuclear weapons on Mecca if we were attacked by rogue, non-nation-state aligned terrorists. It ups the ante, which we've already established is not a good thing when it comes to nuclear capabilities. Leaving aside the rogue Islamofascists for a moment, think about Tancredo's remarks in terms of relations with one particular nation-state we consider to be an ally: do we really want Saudi Arabia, of all nations, to think they need to start acquring nukes to protect Mecca? Is that action going to stop the spread of Wahhabism? Would that bring about the changes we would like to see in the way the House of Saud governs that country? Sheesh. Think about it for a minute. Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words, when employed to throw nuclear threats around, really can hurt you. That's not a "weak" response; it's a sensible one.

So, when it comes right down to it, Tancredo is an idiot who knows absolutely nothing about nuclear strategy. He is playing a dangerous game that has serious ramifications to it. And anyone, LaShawn included, who thinks that "talking tough" to the terrorists on a nuclear level is going to get them to back down, or to mend their ways, is not exactly thinking things through. It's a whole different ballgame. It's simply ramping it up to another level---another level which could mean plenty of people would be killed, and not just Muslims. Furthermore, to make the claim that anyone who's "really conservative" should be advocating such an action is ignoring the example set down by Ronald Wilson Reagan, the man who---ahem--won the freakin' war without blowing ourselves up in the meantime. He did not win the war by using inflamed, Krushchev-like rhetoric (Remember the Cuban Missile Crisis? Remember dear old Nikita slamming his shoe on the podium at the UN? Remember the words, "We will bury you"? Did that cool things down? Hmmmm?); he won it by using MAD to its utmost capability: he bankrupted the Soviet Union. If that's not "conservative" enough for you, well, jeez, I don't know what will or could ever be.

Tancredo should apologize for his ignorant remarks and he should do it on the floor of the House of Representatives. That needs to be in the record, lest someone get the wrong idea about what, precisely, the United States' response would be in regards to a rogue Islamofascist nuclear attack on our soil.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:37 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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From Miss Sheila, because this is The Cake Eater Chronicles: we're all about the quality filler!

What I was doing 10 years ago: Geez. What was I doing ten years ago? Hmmmm. It's hazy, but I was in Des Moines at that point in time. I worked. I went out. We moved into the last apartment we would live in that Bad Mojo town. The husband and I enjoyed the last of the newlywed sex before our first anniversary that August. You know, the regular.

Five years ago: Oh, the summer from hell. This I remember. The husband was back in Kuwait. Briefly. He'd been there for most of the spring and had returned for about a month. Then he left again. I was unemployed because he'd told me to quit my job as we would be moving there soon. I just had to wait out the time in between. Everything very slowly went to hell with the Kuwait move, and my sweetie was stuck in the middle east in the middle of summer---when anyone who has any sense in their head leaves because it's so freakin' hot---watching all his hopes and dreams crumble around him because of some ambitious backstabbers. He spent a miserable thirtieth birthday alone and I cried because all I could do was tell him happy birthday over the phone. (Not like he knew it then, but I suppose he knows it now. I made up for it the next year by taking him skydiving.) Every day was yet another adventure in hearing about the possibilities of the trip, but wondering about how this one prick would sabotage them next. He finally got back to the states and the cheap-asses had only paid for a ticket into Chicago. I had to borrow money to get him a plane ticket into town because the bastards hadn't paid him what they owed him.

On the upside, this is the summer I finally started writing. I banged out a little novel during his absence, just to see if I could do it. (Yes. I was that bored.) It sucked rocks and I cringe when I read it now (I keep meaning to torch it, but I keep forgetting.) but I still love how I feel when I write, so one day, it will happen.

One year ago: Pretty much the same thing as now. Not much has changed.

Yesterday: I woke up to a wonderful breeze blowing through the apartment. The husband had turned off the AC and had opened up the house. It was almost chilly, which was nice after all the heat. I power walked around the lake, where there were whitecaps because it was so windy. Then I washed the linen and cleaned the house in anticipation of the mother-in-law's visit last night. I cooked part of a pork tenderloin (rubbed with salt, pepper, and rosemary. I cut holes in the fat and stuffed chopped garlic into it. Mmmmm), steamed broccoli, made rice and a salad. Then I sat down and had dinner with my mother-in-law and the husband. When she left I walked down to Walgreens to get a pack of smokes under the light of the almost-full moon, a nice cool breeze floating around me. It was lovely.

Last night, it actually dropped below sixty-degrees and I slept like a rock. The husband said I snored. {Insert blush here} Usually that's his department.

Five snacks I enjoy: I'm not really a big snack person, but here goes... Saltines, 100,00 bars, fudgsicles, cheese (any sort, really. I love cheese.) and Carr's water crackers.

Five songs I know all the words to:

Say Goodbye---Dave Matthews Band
Vienna and Scenes From an Italian Restaurant---Billy Joel (I love The Stranger album.)
Where The Streets Have No Name---U2
INXS---Mediate (It's "Pretty Kate Has Sex Ornate" just in case you were wondering.)

Five Things I would do with $100 million: Not like I've thought about it a lot, but I would...
a. Buy a private island.
b. Go to the highest point on said island, plant a flag in the soil and declare that I'm calling this bit o' land the Republic of Kathyland
c. Hire good lawyers and acquire sovereignty and US/UN recognition for Kathyland. (If the Vatican can do it, so can I. If I do it right, I won't need guns.)
d. Build a data haven in the basement of Kathyland. (Income, kids. Income. Lots of income.)
e. Buy a really sweet throne with built in masssage features from where I might benevolently rule Kathyland for the rest of my days.

Five locations I would like to run away to:

London. The Redneck Riviera. (And, no, that would not be the one in France.) Dubai. The Maldives. Anywhere with a beach, really.

Five things I like doing:

Walking around the lakes, reading, writing, having coffee with Mr. H., staring out the window at the birds and the flowers. The world really is lovely, you just have to take the time to look at it.

Five bad habits I have: Smoking. I bite my lip when I read books. (Don't ask me why, I've done it for as long as I can remember.) I rub my palms together all the freakin' time. I slouch (although, I'm getting better about this since I started Pilates.). I have issues with finishing things I've started.

Five things I would never wear: Hot pants. Anything Versace. A muumuu. A tube top. Bowling shoes outside of a bowling alley.

Five TV shows I like: House, Lost, the original CSI, McCleod's Daughters (totally addicted! the shame of it!), and currently Bridezillas, because I love seeing brides go bat shit loco over flower arrangements and the like. It's good fun.

Five favorite toys: the laptop, aka Wee Bastard, my Braun handblender (Best. Wedding. Present. EVER. Thanks Mr. and Mrs. Heenan!), the DirecTV, the DVD player, and my digital camera.

Posted by: Kathy at 12:18 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Does anyone find it even remotely ironic that Roman Polanski is suing Vanity Fair for libel over "allegations" that he slept around right after his wife's---Sharon Tate---death, yet this is the dude who PLED GUILTY to sleeping with a thirteen-year-old girl and then fled the country to escape sentencing?

Good. I didn't think I was the only one.

I'm somewhat tired of always being told how sorry we should feel for Roman Polanski. He's a genius, his defenders say. He didn't mean to sleep with a thirteen-year-old in Jack Nicholson's hot tub. She looked older than she really was. She seduced him. It only happened because he was so distressed over his wife's death. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Whatever.

You're either a grown-up and you take responsibility for your actions, even if they land you in the can for a while. OR you have the good sense to shut the fuck up about it. It's pretty goddamned simple, if you ask me. But the one thing you do not do is sue a magazine for libel because they point out the one part of your well-documented sex life that seems disrespectful to a dead woman. You made your bed, Roman, you little slut. Now lie in it.*

pun fully intended

Posted by: Kathy at 03:14 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Hurricane Dennis may not have wreaked as much havoc as the media was hoping for, but it did wreak some havoc nonetheless.

Go and help if you can.

If you've never lived through a flood, well, I can only say that you should be thanking your lucky stars. It doesn't matter if you live in a flood plain or not---the water can, and sometimes, will find you.

And it's a hell of a thing to try and get cleaned up. And that's only if you can clean it up in the first place. Sometimes homes are condemed and people find themselves without a place to live through no fault of their own.

I lived through the 500 year flood in Iowa in 1993: I've seen this sort of damage first hand and it's not the water that's so much the problem---even though it's not really a joy---because the water will, eventually, recede; it's the muck and mire that the water brings with it that doesn't go away and ruins everything you own. Imagine cleaning out a foot or more of mud and river debris from your home. Not to mention all the creepy critters who like living in mud, no matter where it's located. Yeech.

If you can, help Mary Anne and her husband out. They sure could use it. And if you're a blogger, get the word out or suffer Sadie's wrath.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:25 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Like Robbo, I must admit this is pretty cool.

ROME, Italy (AP) -- Decorated cups and fine silver platters were once again polished and on display Monday as archaeologists unveiled an ancient Roman dining set that lay hidden for two millennia in the volcanic ash of Pompeii.

In 2000, archaeologists found a wicker basket containing the silverware in the ruins of a thermal bath near the remains of the Roman city, said Pietro Giovanni Guzzo, head of Pompeii's archaeological office.

The basket was filled with the volcanic ash that buried the city when Mount Vesuvius erupted in A.D. 79. When experts X-rayed it, they saw the objects preserved in the ash, which killed thousands of people but kept the town almost intact, providing precious information on domestic life in the ancient world.{...}

Sweet.

To one up Robbo, here's the Latin version of Pliny The Younger's description of the eruption. Scroll down to entries 16 and 20 and you'll get the whole story in the mother tongue.

(And, no, I can't read it either.)

Posted by: Kathy at 11:02 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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For the love of God.

LOS ANGELES - Actor Colin Farrell is suing a woman for allegedly trying to distribute and profit from a sex tape he says the two recorded with the agreement they would never make it public.

The lawsuit filed Monday in Superior Court seeks general and compensatory damages as well as a temporary restraining order and injunction prohibiting the sale and exploitation of the videotape.

Farrell, 29, accuses Nicole Narain of trying to distribute the tape through an intermediary. The two had an intimate relationship 2 1/2 years ago and both agreed that the 15-minute tape that shows the couple having sex would be jointly owned by them and would remain private, according to the suit.{...}

See, here's the thing, Colin. You're a celebrity. You're famous. You're also tabloid fodder because of the way you act. Soooooooo, doesn't it make just a wee bit of sense to you that perhaps, just perhaps, if you don't want a sex tape of yourself running around on the internet YOU SHOULDN'T MAKE ONE IN THE FIRST PLACE?

Jeez. How stupid can you be? Ah, but I'm judging Colin from the mantle of sobriety. He's a boozer. He doesn't see things clearly.

I ask you this, my devoted Cake Eater Readers: are there ever times in this life when you can just see the outcome of stuff, like you're an author and you know how the book is going to end? Can you see it coming? See, here's what I can see for Colin's future. Brilliant, widely acclaimed actor will keep on acting for a while, and he's going to keep on partying hard, too. Women will walk in and out of his life, and the reason they will keep on walking out of his life is because he's a feckin' drunk. An alcoholic if you will. His family works very hard to keep him from imploding, but they will ultimately fail. It's predestined, because everyone who tries to keep a drunk---famous or not---from imploding fails. It can't be forestalled. So, one day, he will drink himself into yet another stupor and...

...here's where you can play with the ending. But logic dicates that there are only two choices because Colin's the kind of guy where it's either all or nothing.

The Sad, Literary Ending: he will choke on his own vomit whilst sleeping it off. Or he could be behind the wheel of a car and will drive off some cliff in L.A. Or, if you want to be ironic about it, he could be killed by a drunk driver as he stands incoherently in the street, disgusted with his behavior, promising to make amends, swearing that last Guinness he drank was his last drink just as the car smacks him. However you want to slice it, he will die an early death and he will be lauded for the rest of eternity. Like an Irish James Dean.

or

The Happy, PR-Friendly, Tee-Vee Movie of the Week Ending: He will realize he's letting his life slip past in a haze of booze. He will check himself into rehab, and two months later, a shaky, but somewhat solid Colin will emerge from the dark to be praised for his courage in overcoming his demons on the cover of every magazine across the world.

I'm afraid that after having lived through this sort of shit, it all becomes rather obvious after a time. I can spot a boozer at ten paces and it's a tedious sort of knowledge, because you see all the talent that's wasted. Colin Farrell is yet another boozer who thinks he's got his shit together and he doesn't. What's sad is that if you've seen Tigerland you know how talented this guy really is. I don't think any of the standard Hollywood fare he's made since has showcased his talent as well as that small film.

I know. I'm getting my knickers in a twist over someone I don't know or really care about all that much. But when you see it happen, over and over again, well, you just want to knock your head against the wall. It's frustrating because you can see it, but they can't. And you can't even tell them what they're missing because they won't believe you until they can see it for themselves. That's just the nature of the beast. I sincerely hope, even though I will despise the fact his face will be plastered all over the newsstands for months, he opts for the PR-Friendly ending.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:21 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Ah, yes. It's Tuesday, so it's time to Foxtrot over to these fine sites for The Cotillion Ball.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:29 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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...where the heck I've been.

Well, a couple of factors have played into my absence.

1. The weather was gorgeous yesterday. After more than a week of living in a steam bath, it was beyooootiful yesterday. Highs in the mid-70's with a slight breeze. I had better things to do than try to keep you people from surfing pr0n.

2. The mother-in-law came over for dinner yesterday. I had to clean---again---and get ready for the visit. She will be flying back to Phoenix today, so the Cake Eater Pad will shoot back into its normal state of disarray quite quickly, but never fear, my devoted Cake Eater Readers, she'll be back in two months!

Oh, and she used the bathroom.

WooT!

3. Since I was a slacker yesterday, I did not get around to posting the grand total for the RAISE MOOLAH FOR JAMES' WALK fundraiser. We managed to raise {insert drumroll here} $345.00

WOOHOO!

James (and I) would like to thank everyone who donated or helped to get the word out. You're wonderful people.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:03 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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{This post will stay at the top of the page all week long. Yep. I'm pulling a guilt trip on you. And it won't be over with until next Monday.}

James, despite the red hair and all that it implies in regards to temper, is a normal six-year-old, and some of my readers who were around last summer might remember him. He lives down in Omaha with his mom(my sister), his dad and his two siblings, Colin and Maggie. As he has mastered the joy and wonder that is kindergarten, he will be starting first grade in the fall. James is a wonderful kid. He has a vibrant imagination, a memorable personality, and is a great kid, he still, however, gets into trouble like any other six-year-old. The red hair does play a part in this, I'm sure. He likes toys; running around the neighborhood and wreaking havoc with his friends; he has a particular fasciantion with construction equipment when they pass an earth mover or a crane when they're in the car; and he's got plenty of opinions about the way the world works and just what his place is in all the hubbub. He might smack his little sister when she gets in his way (never fear: Maggie will strike back if the situation calls for it) but he's also very protective of her as well. His older brother might drive him insane at times, producing some very windy, very adult-like sighs of discontent out of James, but he loves him, too. To us, his family, he's a very normal kid. All except for one thing that makes him not quite so normal.

James is a Type I Diabetic. And has been since a week past his third birthday.

I know everyone hears a lot on the news about "diabetics" and how this disease is rapidly becoming a health crisis for this nation. Well, that's somewhat accurate, but they're talking about Type II diabetics, not Type I, or what is more commonly known as juvenile diabetes. The destination is the same---the shutting down of the pancreas, which produces insulin---but the path for Type I diabetics is different than that of Type II sufferers. If you need a refresher biology lesson, you need insulin to break down the food you eat into energy. When your pancreas shuts down and doesn't produce insulin any longer, you can eat and eat and eat, but still not have the energy you need to live. Type I diabetes is an autoimmune disease in which the body's immune system attacks the insulin-producing cells of the pancreas. While the causes of this process are not yet entirely understood, scientists believe that both genetic factors and environmental triggers are involved. Type I diabetes strikes its victims---who can be either children, or adults up to the age of forty---suddenly, making them dependent upon injected or pumped insulin for life. While it's great that insulin is available, and that with proper care Type I diabetics can live long, productive lives, injecting insulin to pick up where your pancreas left off isn't necessarily a great thing, either. There is the constant threat of devastating complications such as kidney failure, blindness, amputations and nerve damage.

This is what James has to deal with for the rest of his life. Since he's very young, I don't think he remembers a time when he didn't have to have his finger pricked to check his blood sugar, or recieve a shot of insulin before he eats. My sister does the math every year: as of this year he's had at least 4000 shots and over 7056 finger pricks. (Think about that the next time you go to the doctor's office and whine about how much those finger pricks sting.) I'm not sure he remembers the time when he could eat anything he wanted, whenever he wanted. His life, while normal in so many ways, is not normal when it comes to this disease. Meals are on a schedule and it's one they must be strict about. Not only must he eat his meals at a certain time, he must also eat snacks on a regular routine as well. This, of course, says nothing of the constant management required of my sister and brother-in-law to make sure James' blood sugar remains constant. They're the ones who must prick his finger several times a day. Based on the information they receive from these finger pricks, they must plan meals and snacks based on what he needs in terms of carb intake to keep said blood sugar at the proscribed levels. This means ignoring the ice cream man when he rings his bell. This means handing over his Halloween candy and receiving a shiny, new toy in return. While his parents have done a fabulous job of taking up where his pancreas left off, it's still not the ideal situation, which would be a life where James would not have to deal with any of this. A life where his pancreas worked and he could snarf candy at any moment in time, like any other kid.

While there are many downsides to juvenile diabetes, a major upside is that wiping this disease out of existence is extremely attainable. It's possible that, because of the fine work done by many scientists, there might be a day in the future that James will not have to prick his finger or inject himself with insulin. There might be a day in the future when James' body will be able to break down his food into the energy he needs to run it without any outside intervention. There might be a day in the future when he would be able to snarf a Snickers any time he wants to.

And that is why I'm pontificating at length today. Because I want him to never have to deal with finger pricks and shots and tightly scheduled mealtimes ever again. I want his body to work the way it should. But most of all, I want him to be able to eat a Snickers any time he wants to.

To work toward this end, James, his family and friends will group together, line up under the banner of "James' Jaywalkers," and will participate in Omaha's Walk To Cure Diabetes on August 6, 2005. From today until next Monday, July 18th, the Cake Eater Chronicles is sponsoring the official RAISE MOOLAH FOR JAMES' WALK WEEK. James' Jaywalkers is looking to raise $4000 this year. Thanks to some very generous donations from my devoted Cake Eater Readers I would like to help the team not only meet that goal, but to exceed it. We raised a few hundred dollars last year with the help of my devoted Cake Eater Readers, and I think we can do even better this year.

I know there are a lot of worthy causes out there. God only knows a lot of people need a lot of help in this world, but if you're inspired to help James beat this thing, you can go here and donate what you can. No amount is too small and every cent is appreciated more than you know. The Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation, who sponsors the walk, is a wonderful foundation and if you're worried about the money raised going to support fat-cat administrators, instead of toward a cure, you should know that you have no need to fear: 80% of every donation made to JDRF goes toward research to find a cure.

We're grateful for any donation you should choose to make, and if you can't make a donation because times are tough, well, that's fine too. We appreciate any support you can offer.

In the immortal words of the Bartles and James' guys: I thank you for your support.

UPDATE: See where we're at as of Thursday, July 14th.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:20 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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For well over a week now it's hit 90+ degrees each and every bloody day.

I realize the folks down south might be laughing a wee bit at the revelation that this is awful weather for us Minnesotans, but, really, we're just not prepared for this sort of hot weather. Nor for it to last so long. Most people don't have air conditioners and if they do, well, in this neighborhood, they're the window variety. The heatwave started last Saturday---July, 9th. They said on the news on Friday night that we hadn't had this long of a heatwave since 1947. Today when I was chatting with Mr. H. he said they'd updated it: they had to go back to the dustbowl year of 1936 to find the last time we've suffered so.

Fortunately, it seems to be over with.

It's currently raining right now and I'm watching the temperature on the atomic clock/thermometer that hangs on the office wall go down, down, down. It was 99 in the shade earlier this afternoon, so this is a welcome relief. I can barely wait to open up the house. It will be so nice to finally have some fresh air blowing through.

Thank God!

As far as the title of this post is concerned, well, it may be raining, but it's also sunny outside. When I was a kid we used to say that whenever it rained and was sunny at the same time. Why, I don't know. I believe the theory went something to the effect that God was happy that the Devil was otherwise occupied, but I'm not sure if I'm goofing that.

Posted by: Kathy at 07:29 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Not a big shocker, really. Cate Blanchett and I could pass for sisters.

Really.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:43 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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