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Kid You Not believes in the Wizard of Oz style of parenting: All you need is a brain, some courage and a heart. Oh, and some Jager.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

It's called torture


I’m not a really religious guy. My family goes to church on Sunday and we try to live peaceful, decent lives. We’re good neighbors and I don’t drive 55 mph in the fast lane. My men’s hockey league doesn’t even allow checking. I figure all that gets me in good with God.
So why is it the most pious people are the most screwed up? This news about a Wisconsin couple who let their 11-year-old daughter die of diabetes because they figured prayer would cure her makes me really sad. For one month they watched her slowly die, as the treatable condition caused naseau, vomiting, excessive thirst, loss of appetite and weakness. They did nothing.
“our lives are in God’s hands. We know we did not do anything criminal. We know we did the best for our daughter we knew how to do,” the mother, Leilani Neumann, told the Associated Press.
They did the best for their daughter? The girl hadn’t been to a doctor since she was 3 years old.
This couple put their crackpot religious ideals ahead of their children. They are not people of faith, just lazy deadbeat criminals who need to have their three other children taken away quickly. You can be sure if dad had chest pains or mom sprained her ankle, they would be at the nearest clinic.
Fundamentalists, be they Christian, Muslim or Jew, are the worst. God is their addiction, the same as meth or crack. And everyone around them eventually suffers.
“Our lives are in God’s hands and whatever we go through we are just going to trust him,” the mother said. “We need healing. We are going through the healing process.”
Not your daughter. She’s dead, you killed her and God’s really pissed off.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

(Ain’t nothin’ but a) Houseparty!


No, not The J. Geils Band song. No, not that summer of ‘81 bash at Pete’s place where everybody got totally messed up and a dude threw up on the rug and ran around taking his clothes off.
I’m talking about my daughter’s 4th birthday party last weekend. At our house. With 20 kids. And collectible Scandanavian glass tantalyzingly close to little grasping fingers.
Call my wife and I crazy, but we like to have our kids’ birthdays at the house. Our oldest is turing 8, and all of her parties have been at the house. They’ve all been fun events and never resulted in a 911 call. But in our town, house birthday parties are the Desert Bandicoot of entertaining. In other words, extinct. Nobody does house parties because they pay college girls in sweat pants to supervise gym parties in giant, padded rooms. They rent an indoor soccer place and bring in a sheet cake and a few cheese pizzas.
Was Caitlin’s party at Build-A-Bear? No, that was Emma’s. Jacob’s party this weekend is at the ceramics place. Evan’s is at Chuck-E-Cheese. Once the kids hit preschool, parents seem to spend every weekend wandering from one party factory to another, like desert nomad child herders toting wrapped gifts with the receipt attached. The birthday party industry in my town is now bigger than Bear Stearns & Co. (Business idea: Build-A-Bear Stearns, with jelly bean bonuses and self-sticking layoff notices)
Parents, don’t be intimindated by the idea of a house birthday party. The biggest hassle is cleaning up. All my wife and I did is cook up a big batch of mac and cheese, mix a huge bowl of fruit salad and bake a nice cake. It was was princess party, so we bought a bunch of cheap princess hats for the girls and plastic knight’s helmets and tunics for the boys. There was pin the tail on the unicorn and since it was a half-decent day, we had an Easter egg hunt. It will pretty much be the same thing at my older daughter’s party next month, except we’ll rent one of those inflatable bouncy castles. It still ends up cheaper than a factory party and I think it's more memorable. One of my daughter’s friends even wore her helmet and tunic to preschool the next day.
It’s simple: Feed them and get them outside, so they can run around. Hopefully, they’ll keep their clothes on and not throw up on the rug.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

This can't possibly be true


Associated Press
NESS CITY, Kan. - Deputies said a woman in western Kansas sat on her boyfriend's toilet for two years, and they're investigating whether she was mistreated.
Ness County Sheriff Bryan Whipple said a man called his office last month to report that something was wrong with his girlfriend.
Whipple said it appeared the 35-year-old Ness City woman’s skin had grown around the seat. She initially refused emergency medical services but was finally convinced by responders and her boyfriend that she needed to be checked out at a hospital.
“We pried the toilet seat off with a pry bar and the seat went with her to the hospital,” Whipple said. “The hospital removed it.”
Whipple said investigators planned to present their report Wednesday to the county attorney, who will determine whether any charges should be filed against the woman's 36-year-old boyfriend.
“She was not glued. She was not tied. She was just physically stuck by her body,” Whipple said. “It is hard to imagine. ... I still have a hard time imagining it myself.”
He told investigators he brought his girlfriend food and water, and asked her every day to come out of the bathroom.
“And her reply would be, ‘Maybe tomorrow,”’ Whipple said. “According to him, she did not want to leave the bathroom.”
The boyfriend called police on Feb. 27 to report that “there was something wrong with his girlfriend,” Whipple said, adding that he never explained why it took him two years to call.
Police found the clothed woman sitting on the toilet, her sweat pants down to her mid-thigh. She was “somewhat disoriented,” and her legs looked like they had atrophied, Whipple said.
“She said that she didn’t need any help, that she was OK and did not want to leave,” he said.
She was taken to a hospital in Wichita, about 150 miles southeast of Ness City. Whipple said she has refused to cooperate with medical providers or law enforcement investigators.
Authorities said they did not know if she was mentally or physically disabled.
Police have declined to release the couple’s names, but the house where authorities say the incident happened is listed in public records as the residence of Kory McFarren. No one answered his home phone number.
The case has been the buzz in Ness City, said James Ellis, a neighbor.
“I don’t think anybody can make any sense out of it,” he said.
Ellis said he had known the woman since she was a child but that he had not seen her for at least six years.
He said she had a tough childhood after her mother died at a young age and apparently was usually kept inside the house as she grew up. At one time the woman worked for a long-term care facility, he said, but he did not know what kind of work she did there.
“It really doesn’t surprise me,” Ellis said of the bathroom incident. “What surprises me is somebody wasn’t called in a bit earlier.

I will not resign


I have shamed my family. I have shamed myself.
It’s time to stop the lying. It’s time to be honest with those I love.
I stole my daughter’s allowance money. It was $18 she kept in her purse.
First, let me explain.
It was late at night. I was alone. A friend called and said he needed an extra player for his team’s hockey game tonight. I admit, I gave into temptation. I put my needs before the needs of my family. Men’s league hockey with other middle-aged round-around-middle dudes is, I admit, tawdry. The sweat, the communal showers. The physical contact. God, help me.
I rifled through my pockets for the $20 I needed to, um, complete the transaction. I found nothing. I panicked. I was already in to deep. Then I thought about my daughter’s cash.
She wouldn’t even know it was gone for a few days. She’s 8 years old. Her WebKinz cash is more important to her than a couple ten spots.
So I took it and I handed it over. And I played my game. Yes, it was arrogant. Yes, it was self-righteous. And it made my legs really sore.
I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m asking for understanding. Let me remain a good father. Let my family remember the good times.
And, hey, at least I wore protection.

What the person on the left may be thinking


It’s either this: “Hmmm. I wonder if anyone knows how to reach Lorena Bobbitt?
Or a variation of this, from www.dontdatehimgirl.com founder Tasha Cunningham: “Too often men will cheat because there’s something he’s not getting in the bedroom. So you, as his wife or partner, are the one he turns to to fulfill those needs. Judging him when he tells you that he likes a certain sexual position because you don’t agree is a surefire way to drive him from your bedroom and into the arms of another woman.
“Remember, this is the man you love. There is nothing wrong with experimenting sexually with your mate to find out what pleases both of you. Men want to feel like they are in control and often, they use the opinions of women to validate how they feel about themselves. Make your man feel desired. Tell him often how handsome he is and do it frequently because if all he hears from you is criticism, he’ll feel bad about himself and surely find a woman who will sing his praises.
“Men in committed relationships are often bored by the routine of it all. They want the thrill of spontaneous sex, so make sure he has that with you and not another woman. Plan to surprise him with an afternoon lovemaking session, naughty text messages during work hours or sexy lingerie. These small things go a long way in keeping a marriage or relationship together.”
In other words, it’s the wife’s fault.

Friday, March 07, 2008

Lice 'n easy


I can’t decide if this is weird or a really great idea:

OAKLAND, Calif. — It’s the (itching, burning) desire for a new feel — not a new look — that brings clients to NitPixies, a popular new hair salon in the Oakland, Calif., hills.
The head lice removal business, which opened this month, calls itself “a mom’s best friend.” It sells comfort and solace, along with the treatment, to mothers horrified by the blood-sucking parasite that has taken over their kids’ scalps. (Yes, the owners say, moms still seem to be the ones doing the brunt of the pest control.)
“It was amazing how desperately this community needed it,” said Melissa Shilliday, who started NitPixies with Dina Shields, a former teacher and fellow Rockridge, Calif., mom.
Lice infestations are an age-old problem for schools and families, and most parents still deal with them the old fashioned way: scrubbing their kids’ heads with chemical shampoos, combing out the parasites and eggs, and washing clothing and bedding until they’re gone.
But recently, high-end businesses with whimsical names, such as Hair Fairies in San Francisco and Love Bugs in Lafayette, Calif., have come to the rescue of parents — at least, to those who can afford it.
NitPixies is at least the third San Francisco Bay area salon of its kind to open since last April, and its owners are already looking for space in San Rafael, Calif.
For $100 an hour per head, NitPixies technicians in plastic caps comb through sections of hair, collecting small insects, living and dead, and white “nits,” or eggs. Then they spray an organic solution containing tea tree oil onto the scalp to stun the bugs and, hopefully, cause them to let go of the hair.

Cookie Monster


The results are in. My 7-year-old daughter has triumphed in her quest to sell the most cookies in her Brownie troop. She’s Lara Croft and Joan of Arc combined, holding a sword high above the vanquished competitors as cheering townfolk clamor for her Thin Mints and Samoas.
She sold 138 boxes with a little help from cookie addicts at dad’s office. It was double what the next highest-seller in her troop sold, but it’s really not all that much. I’m sure there are troops that have cookie-selling strategy meetings, where the girls are threatened: Sell less than 250 boxes and your little brown vest will be stripped from your back and burned on the ground in front of you.
Most importantly, my daughter sold double what she told last year. That’s a good lesson for living in the United States. Always be closing. It’s Glengarry Glen Ross: “We’re adding a little something to this month’s sales contest. As you all know, first prize is a Cadillac Eldorado. Anybody want to see second prize? Second prize is a set of steak knives. Third prize is you’re fired.”
In fact, my daughter could be Alec Baldwin:
My daughter: You got leads. Mitch & Murray paid good money. Get their names to sell them. You can’t close the leads you’re given, you can’t close &*$%, you are &*$%, hit the bricks pal, and beat it, ‘cause you are going out.
Rookie seller: The leads are weak.
My daughter: “The leads are weak.” The &%$*-ing leads are weak? You’re weak. I’ve been in this business fifteen years...
Rookie seller: What’s your name?
My daughter: $%&* you. That’s my name.
Rookie seller: [laughs]
My daughter: You know why, mister? ‘Cause you drove a Hyundai to get here tonight; I drove an eighty thousand dollar BMW. That’s my name.
Only it’s not a Cadillac Eldorado for the daughter. It’s a $^&*-ing dog radio and a patch.