It’s that time of the month again. No, not my period. I have The Menopause, which means that I will not get my period, unless I dare to set foot in an airport, in which case I will be visited with a flood of biblical proportions. Ask me how I know. (EVERY SINGLE TIME).
No, it’s the time of the month when I write a blog post, because apparently all I can muster is one post a month.
I have excuses. See above, The Menopause. Also: it’s HOT. Hot? It’s October 13, isn’t it? FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK. Yes, yes it is. It has been above 90 degrees every day, which isn’t the bad part. It’s the nights. Normally at night, we get a cool ocean or mountain breeze. Not now. It has been still at night for weeks, with the temperature hovering between 75 and 80 all night long.
I know, I know, I could live somewhere hot like Phoenix. But the point is that I don’t live somewhere hot like Phoenix. I live in a wonderland of mild temperatures, or should I say I used to? Because it is HOT.
Which brings me to my first Fury. I am absolutely furious at all those jerks in Congress and the former President who blocked climate change legislation because they wanted to keep their campaign donors happy. When New Orleans and Miami disappear under the waves, as they are scheduled to do, I want to make these guys stand on the shore with shame signs around their necks reading “AT LEAST MY REELECTION FUND WAS FULL.” We could have saved the planet, but these idiots dithered around claiming climate change wasn’t real. FURY.
My second fury is for Bristol Palin, who is somehow, unaccountably, famous. I’m not so much mad at her – she’s an idiot from a low-rent family of idiots, so maybe she can’t help herself – but for the media who keeps on reporting on her as if we should take her seriously. She has 2 out-of-wedlock kids from 2 dads, and yet she somehow opines that the state of Washington is wrong in trying to lower its teenage birth rate. FURY.
My third fury is for this old man who shooed me and Abbie when we were walking the other morning. SHOOED us. We were walking in front of his house and he stopped to stare at us, so I stopped to see what he wanted. Then he SHOOED us with his hand motions and said “Go on, go on.” “GOOD MORNING” I yelled back, being me. Look, Festus, my dog isn’t gonna poop on your lawn. And if she does, I HAVE POOP BAGS AND AM NOT AFRAID TO USE THEM.
What isn’t making me furious?
I got a new phone. Traded the iPhone4s for a shiny new Samsung Galaxy Note, which is as big as a paperback book, putting it in the phablet category, a category made horrible by the use of the word “phablet.” Nice phone though, with a stellar camera. Switching from one platform to another is good exercise for your brain. In just 6 months or so, I will have it all figured out. In the mean time, the camera is making me so happy.