My mother-in-law and I recently suffered a drive-by waving! We are both OK now, but our eyes had to recover from the bizarre event. We were driving home on a very long stretch of highway, mid-day, when I looked over at the car next to me. It was that weird sense that someone’s watching you that caused me to turn and look. This beat-up, ugly, red Astro Van was driving right next to me at the exact same speed. When I looked over the person driving leaned as far as they could into the passenger area to get their extended hand as close to me as possible in order to wave this violent, “Hi! Hello!” I then, with a puzzled look on my face, waved back - I am not a rude person after all. The ugly van blasted ahead of us as soon as the waving was finished. My mother-in-law and I giggled about it and thought it was a little weird, but whatever.

It wasn’t until the van slowed down and seemed to be driving erratically that we began to worry about who the freak behind the wheel might be. Our van and the ugly van soon caught up to each other once again, but I was uneasy driving close to the whack who was weaving. We were now driving on a high speed stretch of highway so I sped up and passed the red minivan to gain safe ground! I told my mother-in-law to get a look at the person’s face as we passed. She was unable to see the face at the speed we were going. I returned to a normal speed and watched as the ugly, red van stayed a healthy distance behind us.

It seemed that the weird encounter with the ugly red minivan had come to an end as we were getting ready to get off the highway and the Astro Van was continuing on the freeway. Our luck changed as I watched the Astro Van fly from the fast lane onto the off ramp at the last second - as if the driver had just realized I was getting off. I started to yell at my mother-in-law that the van was following us! The van pushed through traffic, caught up to us and did this double wave thing - once again totally blocking their face - and jetted ahead of us. The red van quickly spun itself around in a U-turn and got right back onto the freeway! My mother-in-law and I just laughed in “Wow, that was strange!” hysterics for a few minutes. I could not believe the encounter that had just happened to us. Not to get a glimpse of the face was the most annoying part! It’s an unsolved mystery.

If you are ever driving the long stretch of highway between hell and… more hell - watch out for the drive-by waver!

WHAT??? Scott was reading an article about how obesity is “contagious” and if you’re family or close friends with an obese person - you are sure to catch it! Watch out - don’t stand too close to a fat person! OK - seriously - I agree to a point that being around, or growing up in a household, with overweight people you have a higher chance at becoming overweight yourself. It’s the whole monkey-see-monkey-do syndrome. We see it all the time with heavy parents and chubby children. Although, I have noticed lately parents in perfect physical condition with chubby little kids. What is going on there? You take care of yourselves, but drive the kids through McDonald’s? We have to first care about ourselves, but when we have children we need to put their needs right up there with (or above) our own. I also see heavyset parents with thin well-fed children. I think that the putting your children’s needs above you own here has gone a little too far. Mommy and Daddy need to be just as healthy as the little kiddies - equal.

I understand the word contagious was simply used as a metaphor, but what a bad choice of words! The use of the word contagious turns obesity into a disease that you feel you need to run from instead of aide. We need to see obesity as equivalent to AIDS, MS and cancer. Dictionary.com says that the word contagions means: capable of being transmitted by bodily contact with an infected person or object. What are we saying about an obese person? That they are infected? If that is the case, then shouldn’t we help them instead of making them feel blame for what is happening to Americans? This topic annoys me because I have watched society and the obsession with being thin sickens me! I have seen first hand how a person who is overweight can be outcasted simply because of their weight. The winner of the latest American Idol was scrutinized because of her size and how it’s a bad image for young girls to have a heavyset girl as a role model. This girl is the perfect size for herself - she’s really tall and large boned, if she was thinner she’d look sick. So, we cannot have a healthy girl as a role model, but we can have drug addicts and sluts as our role models and that’s OK as long as they’re thin? I might vomit! What is wrong with us that we must make others feel ashamed and ugly because of the size of their body? Why do we have to make them feel contagious? We don’t have enough mental problems in our western civilization?!

I agree that something needs to be done to help our society and the unhealthy weight issues plaguing us. Degrading and making overweight people feel less human is not the answer! That is exactly what is going on. We want to simply tell obese people to go out and fix themselves! What we need to understand is that it is not that easy. We need to fix our whole damn country and the food choices we are selling. We need to redo the way we live and how much importance we put onto a quick meal. We need to stop worrying about how much food we get for a buck and worry about getting too much food. We need to stop pointing fingers at “contagious” people and help them! If we help them, we help ourselves and no one has to feel at fault for any type of epidemic plaguing our nation. We live in a high-speed, work-obsessed, shovel-as-much-food-for-the-least-cost-into-your-mouth-as-fast-as-you-can society. Where is family? Where is personal time? When we are able to get together with others for a social event, it’s always based around food and that’s because that is the only time we have free. Our nation is what’s sick and wrong in our lives, and if we cannot see that as the truth, then we are all going to suffer.

I do not believe obesity is contagious in any way, shape or form. I do believe it is a learned lifestyle and a habit formed. I would rather try and help others then pin a blame and make other humans feel bad because of the disease they may have. The study showed that an overweight family was also capable of getting healthy together. If we can just figure out how to work it out together - I believe we would see more positive outcomes with unhealthy weight. We can save ourselves and each other, just not alone.

There is the occasional cry when one is saddened for some reason, or hurt either emotionally or physically. Theses cries are understandable and usually forgiven by society. It’s the endless flow of pointless tears that can drive you insane just being around the depressed or blubbering individual. Crying over spilled milk is annoying and yet there are millions of people who do it - why? Why are people drawn to crying at the drop of a hat? I have known people who tend to cry every time I say something to them, “Boo!” Oh no! Viola said, “Boo!” I have to cry because it hurt my feelings…. Ummm what?! I give up and really don’t care anymore because it seems that no matter what I do, or try not to do, it is inevitable that I am going to make them weep in the dark corner of a quiet room. I have been watching the reality show Big Brother - yeah, I know I’m a dork - where one of the housemates is over the top with her damn crying fits! Scott and I have nicked named her “Alice the Goon” from the old Popeye cartoons - because that’s what she looks like! No joke, she has the long nose and the forever sad face. This girl needs medication! Anyone who cries at everything needs to be on medication! There is something wrong with you if every time you turn around you are crying about nothing and everything. We live in a great time with doctors and medication ready and willing to help you with your problems - seek them out and get aide.

I was talking to my brother about this subject and he gets just as annoyed as I do about pointless annoying weepers. I tell him about the people I make cry regularly and then recently I was telling him about Alice the Goon from Big Brother. He had to write a little something about this subject for a post on blubbering idiots…

I have come across several individuals in the past months that seem to be honestly super-sensitive with just about everything you can toss at them. Being the astute scientist and learned super-genius, I have since researched this atypical behavior, and concluded that these crybabies suffer far more than just being a spineless wimp. The true name of this condition is: hyper delusionary emotional susceptibility disorder, or Weeper Syndrome.

Most people do not know enough about this illness, and the afflicted are usually too busy being victimized, beat up, or crying, usually accompanied with thumb sucking, whimpers, and a “woe is me” expression. Identified as an ailment in 1694, by Puritan Quaker Doctor Ezekiel Shlopmeyer, it was noted that many people suffering from Weeper Syndrome were identified as practitioners of witchcraft, and vessels of the devil. Most of these people were tried and condemned as minions of evil at “Witch Trials” held in Salem, Massachusetts in 1692. In the tumultuous years to follow, despite being known as clinically ill, people suffering from Weepers Syndrome still faced (for reasons of convenience) such fates as burning at the stake, the iron maiden, and my personal favorite, breaking at the wheel until 1832, which was years after all these forms of torture execution had been outlawed as inhumane for regular people. Afterward, people with Weepers Syndrome were just referred to as the “village idiots” or the more popular “American Yeller-Bellies.” The illness was overall forgotten and ignored until the mid 1990’s when it was re-made popular my the mass-paranoia and overall fear of just about everything that was experienced by the population in California around that same time. California, holding the highest number of wimps per capita, (rivaled only by the states of Washington and Oregon), was among the largest area to experience the Weeper Syndrome epidemic. Most weepers have since relocated out of those urban areas and have found thier way into most small towns, such as Minden, Nevada, or Seymour, Indiana. (Used here to illustrate small, dead end towns).

Weepers are usually identified by their incessant blubbering, child-like behavior, and inability to come to terms with reality. Weepers are easily seen at bars, weddings, and other family related events, but often prefer the faceless anonymity offered in the form of voicemail messages, e-mail, or will rely on the voice of others to transmit their boo-hoo-hoos and pee pee pees into audible human language. People who facilitate such transmissions are usually shallow, and in most cases are desperate for a companion. Romantic or any other emotional attachment with Weepers will usually result in a binary or symbiotic relationship, where both parties involved will suffer an endless downward spiral until there is nothing left to identify them other than their babbling faces, begging to be smacked.

Shock treatment is usually the best for Weepers, however medication can also be prescribed, such as Hydrogen fluoride, Potassium chloride, and large doses of mercury or any other substance used for bioaccumulation. Usually, weepers just need a good slap in the face, a kick in the pants, or a punch in the stomach (which also relives the stress associated with being anywhere near one of these pee-pee pants pansies).

I hope this helps you to identify these poor miserable creatures, and will help in your efforts to eradicate them with euthanasia, or any other methods you see fit.

It’s so true that misery loves company. I find myself being pulled down when around these weeping morons, and who the hell wants to be pulled down with you?! All joy is drained when these weepers sit across from you with their faces all pouty and their eyes ready to turn on the waterworks at any given second. With their negative attitude on everything they seem to suck life out of whomever they are around. These people need to be put onto an island along with other weepers so that they can slowly drain each other of life and die in a miserable fit of crying. I commend those who seek out medical attention and try to cure their illness of weeping at everything. There are so many people out there that believe there is no help for them, or that no one wants to help them. These people are much mistaken! There are millions of folks that go to college each year yearning to graduate and help you with your mental disorder of non-stop crying. [Don't get me wrong, I am not bashing depression here. Depression is a nasty disease that eats at human life each year. If you do suffer from depression - please get help! Depression is nothing to sit around and wait to subside - it can be a serious condition that needs the aide of a medical professional (good luck).] I wonder how many weepers I made weep with this blog post?

I like to do things through big well known companies to ensure I get the quality stuff I deserve. A good example of this was when we ordered a new roof for the house and we went straight to Home Depot. They cost a lot more then if we had found some guy and his team in the newspaper, but there was a backer with the Home Depot name and we knew we wouldn’t be screwed over. I did have one issue with the roofers, they left one afternoon and never showed back up to finish the job. They left lunch boxes and whatnot on our unfinished roof and just jetted out of here - it was odd. What was odder was the next day the foreman (from Home Depot) called and wanted to come and look the roof over and give us our certificate of completion. I told him that it was not finished and what the workers had done. His reaction was of shock and dismay, but he was on the phone with his employees and within a few hours they were back and completing the task. I just feel like going through the large name like Home Depot, they would have to cover their asses because they cannot allow their good name to get a bad reputation. I do the same thing when ordering online, I find the big popular names and order things through them. I realize, of course, that the things I am ordering are not always from the store but through a third party. I just feel some insurance ordering through the big name and figure even if the third party messes up I still have the store name to fall back on to ensure a return or exchange.

Recently, I ordered a Moses Basket from Babies R Us online. It was so cute! It arrived and I was a little shocked at the condition of the box it arrived in. It was open with one strip of tape holding it together. I figured as long as the basket on the inside was OK, it didn’t matter. As I opened the box I couldn’t believe what I was seeing - the basket was pretty much thrown into the box without any kind of wrapping to protect it. It was filthy because the box it arrived in was open! I called Babies R Us right away and complained about the delivery. The lady was really nice and understanding about the whole situation. She was very apologetic and helped me get a free return label and a free shipping and handling for another one. She thought maybe there was some mix up at the delivery center. I’ll give them that, and another chance to redeem themselves - I ordered another one. I did tell her that if the second one arrived in such condition as the first one had I was just going to return it and forget about the whole idea of this basket. Weeks passed and before I knew it the second basket had been delivered! The first one arrived via UPS and the second arrived via FedEx - there was a little bit of hope right there. On closer observation I quickly realized even though the box was a little better taped closed, it still was open and the tape was not adhesed very well. It looked like the company was recycling old boxes and tape! Opening the box was a grave disappointment as the basket was once again simply thrown into the box without any protective covering. The cute little blanket and pillow just tossed in and all askew. It made me sick to see this thing I had spent over $100 on treated like that!

Instead of calling Babies R Us I simply took the damn thing into the store and got store credit. I ended up buying another basket in the store, it cost a little more but was well worth it! Plus, it is in a protective plastic covering.

It sucks to order something online and have it delivered in the messed up condition my basket was in. I don’t blame Babies R Us nor do I blame UPS or FedEx for the rude way the basket was packaged and shipped out. It is total fault of the third party company, an outfit called “Sleeping Partners”. They seemed not to give a damn about the product they had sold, only about the money they got for it. I felt ripped off and when buying something that expensive and for a newborn baby - I am going to demand quality and respect! So, I didn’t get my cute little moses basket, but I did get a really nice one that I will probably enjoy even more! I guess there is a reason for everything and this one led me to the other basket. I am happy with what I have and cannot wait to try it out! Of course we figure if the baby doesn’t like it - the cat will!

My brother, the wise and all knowing, has recently read a science report dealing with the whole cats are smarter than dogs topic. He soon realized its truth when he did his own studies - which I have to concur to be factual evidence of pussy cat behavior. If you are a cat owner you’ll realize his points, and understand totally. If you don’t own a cat then you are stupider than a dog, thus the cats will come for you first! “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer” a phrase here which states truth among the pussy cat kingdom because if you house them and feed them they are not as likely to hurt you - until you are close to death, or have already died. (My brother will explain this in his report that follows.) One must respect the pussy cat as the superior being and realize the pussy cat’s potential of harming and/or killing you. (dun, dun, dun)

Once again a warning: Reading this report may cause excess laughter and the wetting of one’s pants. Please, use the restroom before reading - or wear adult diapers to absorb any leakage.

The wonderful world of cats:

Not too long ago, I found myself reading an article called “Ask Dr. Science.” The article that I read was how cats, in many ways, are smarter than dogs, and they [cats] secretly hate us. I have done some of my own groundbreaking research, and found that this is true. Cats are indeed much smarter than their canine counterparts, and in fact hate us with as much loathing contempt usually reserved for Southern Baptist ministers.

Dogs are pretty stupid, with thoughts rarely going outside of “food for me?”, “dig the hole, dig the hole”, “I wonder if I can eat this?”, and my personal favorite, “Oh boy! look at the thing, it’s the thing!!” Each followed by a marathon of mind numbing barking.

Cats, unlike dogs, are never happy to see you. This is because they are too busy secretly hating you. They sometimes dream that they have grown to the size of a house, and are happily playing with you until you are dead. Want to see for yourself? First, watch your cat sleep. See how he/she twitches and tosses out a meow here and there? They are dreaming that they are batting you around like a ping-pong ball, and have found pure bliss in your dying agony. Now that kitty is happy in dreamland, wake them, and look at their expression, see the hateful look in their face? Now that’s an angry stare, ready for murder.

Early in life, young kittens will develop a taste for human flesh. Meow mix has cornered the cat food market with their new “Soilent delight” where the secret ingredient is people. This is good for the cat food companies as people are a plentiful source of the useless fats that cats crave. Senior citizens should have lots of cats. This wise investment will save the senior money in funeral and burial fees if they die at home. Bloodthirsty felines will always be happy to take care of any corpse, no matter how ugly that person might have been. Cats will also be happy to take care of those “almost dead” situations, and you don’t even have to pay them! They would not take your money anyway, because they secretly hate you, remember?

Cats like to turn you in for not paying your taxes, or build up crushing gambling debts by betting on horse races over the phone, while pretending that they are you. Because they hate you, cats have replaced all your vitamins with little “poops” and have taken all your calcium and thew it away, so your bones can be extra brittle when the bookie comes to “collect” the money you now owe him from gambling on all those horse races. Cats, unlike dogs love to watch you do all the work, and will often find that there is a good time to be had at your expense. They love to see your torment with the little “gift” they sometimes leave for you on the carpet.

Cats hate dogs, and they hate people too. We just don’t know about it because they are good actors, and sometimes get together for Shakespeare in the park, and drink latte.

Science has proven that cats are smarter than dogs, and are usually smarter than people too; but they are not smarter than the Japanese.

While putting together this post, my pussy cat has been watching closely. She has made sure that I notice her as she walked back and forth in front of the monitor and sat next to the mouse with the stare of hate. Although, I saved this pussy cat’s life in the past and feel that she owes me a little. I believe that once she decides to kill the others in the house, including her own twin brother, she may spare me. Although, one never knows what exactly is going through the mind of a cat…

I should also add that in the process of writing this post my two dogs have only proven themselves as the dumber species. Sammy had spilled ice cream all over a chair and what are dogs better for then cleaning up the “oops, I’ve spilled food” mess? Scott called the little dog over to vacuum up the spill, the dog heard his name and the command, “come here” he immediately freaked out and ran to his bed to hide. Our bigger dog was the next to be called over to clean up the spill, and she freaked out running in circles until Scott grabbed her and forced her face into the ice cream. She finally got the point and lapped it up - hearing this caused the little dog out of his bed and over to the bigger dog where he pushed her out of the way to lap some up for himself. A risk worth taking, I suppose, as the bigger dog could easily bite his head off, and has come close in the past. The little dog now sits at my feet licking the air vent… yep, there’s intelligence!

[most of this post if fictional fun - most...]

Last Saturday Sammy was involved in the “Super Circus” with his gymnastics class. It was the cutest little thing ever, an end-of-season recital of sorts with every kid in the program participating. And after the children showed off their talents they received a medal for their achievements. Sammy was originally in the 3-to-4-year-old tumbling class, but he had been acting a little crazy and out-of-control lately. With the “Super Circus” coming up I freaked out and had visions of him running amok - and trust me, Sammy is completely capable of running amok. I don’t want my little boy making a spectacle of himself in a negative way, at least not more than he usually does. I flipped out and asked his teacher what she thought we should do with our little wild child. She suggested that instead of pulling him out of the “Super Circus” all together that we simply switch classes and do the circus with the Mommy & Me class. Alright, that sounded like a plan. But as I watched the 3-to-4-year-olds perform in the circus I realized, sadly, that Sammy probably would have been just fine. Oh well.

On the way to the “Super Circus” Sammy had fallen asleep in the car. That’s a pretty normal occurrence in Sammyland, falling asleep at exactly the wrong time. He was having a hard time waking up, and I thought that by the time he was supposed to go up and do his act, he’d be cranky and wouldn’t want to. But my little fella is a shining star and loves nothing more than to be the center of attention, so he was fully awake before it was showtime. Scott took Sammy up with the rest of the Mommy & Me class, and I was holding the camera and tried to capture every moment!

Sammy was awesome - he was the most talented kid in his class. That was probably due to the fact that he’s older than everyone else in the class, some of whom can hardly even walk unaided. Plus he was in the 3-to-4-year-old class for over seven months, so he’s a pro. A pro that needs to have someone holding his hand so he doesn’t run up into the stands and out the back door, but still. He got up in front of everyone and showed off what he knew - I was the proudest mama ever! Then after his little act, he stood upon the podium and proudly exclaimed into the microphone, “MY NAME IS SAMMY!” They then put the medal around his little neck and he hopped down. I was fighting pretty hard to hold back the mommy tears through the entire show, but when he got up there and said his name - I just about lost it! He was so proud of his medal, and when he got off stage he came running out to me full of pride. I gave him a hug and it took all my willpower plus to not start crying like a baby.

I know that showing emotion is a normal human thing to do, but it’s not me. I never wear my heart on my sleeve and it freaks me out to think that I might become one of those mothers that cry at every little event their child does. I wrote my brother - who by far understands me more than anyone else, especially when talking about emotional things. He wrote back a diagnosis to my problem. I was thinking it might be a hormonal disorder due to the pregnancy, but he was able to clear the whole thing up for me. I have to warn you, before posting his letter, that you may need to go potty as the laughter might cause the side effect of peeing your pants. I was lucky enough as to have gone potty right before I read it - otherwise there probably would have been an accident. This diagnosis was so on target, coming from a male, I couldn’t believe how much of a grasp on motherhood my brother has.

The Diagnosis:

I have reviewed the phenomenon of your outward physical display of emotion that caused you copious amounts of discomposure. The overwhelming desire to facilitate use of tear ducts to convey pridefulness has been analyzed in an exact scientific manner, and your unexplainable, non-sequitur behavior can only be deducted and equated to the fact that you have experienced a metamorphosis. Indeed, you are a victim of the transmutation known as Matriarchal Derangement, better known as “mommy madness.” This affliction has no known cure, and in some severe cases, victims of MD disorder have been known to wear polka dot dresses, bake cookies, attend PTA meetings, smile, play bridge with friends, get their hair done, drive a minivan or SUV, and have some kind of connection to the Girl or Boy Scouts of America, by becoming what is known as a “den mother”.

Symptoms include PDA, or public display of affection, show pictures of offspring, weeping at achievements of offspring (as in your case), increased baking and cooking skill, desire to wear blush, using the word “cute”, loss of natural selfish tendencies, notable increase in stains, ability to complete loads of laundry without incident, increased use of “baby talk”, knowledge of live events based on characters from children’s programs, desire to set play-dates, desire to wipe faces and pick noses of children, and ability to listen to temper tantrums without killing.

I am very sorry to provide this diagnosis for you, as there is no treatment and no cure, only the inert need to “have another.” At this point you may want to change your name to Donna Reed, June Cleaver, or some other nice 50’s iconic television mom name. Good luck!

Thanks to my brother and all his wisdom I know now I am doomed to be one of those parents that cry at all their children’s events. I might have to change my name and move out of the country so no one who knows me will wonder who just died as my child gets a medal. People won’t understand when I break into tears at the soccer game when my kid makes the winning goal, but not at Aunt Gertrude’s funeral. They won’t get it when I am bawling over kindergarten graduation but could seem to care less when Grandpa George has to be put down (so to speak). I guess it doesn’t matter, no one gets me now so what do I care if they understand my Matriarchal Derangement (MD)? I am a proud mother and I love my little fella more than anything in the world - so watch out, ’cause this emotional mama’s here to stay!