What are you people smoking over there?

I heard this over the radio while coming in to work and my jaw dropped lower than the Dutch low-lands.

AMSTERDAM (Reuters) - Dutch pedophiles are launching a political party to push for a cut in the legal age for sexual relations to 12 from 16 and the legalization of child pornography and sex with animals, sparking widespread outrage.

..."An opinion poll published Tuesday showed that 82 percent wanted the government to do something to stop the new party, while 67 percent said promoting pedophilia should be illegal."
[complete story here]

First of all, I'd like to know if the "founders" of this "party" have children of their own. If they do, shouldn't social services be looking in on them?

Secondly, I'd like to know why only 82% want the government to stop the new party and why only 67% think promoting pedophilia should be illegal. The numbers should be burning hot red in the 90s! I find that the remaining 18% & 33% are suspicious. In a matter of seconds, the Dutch people went from cow-milking, tulip-planting, clog-wearing, rosy-cheeked people I had branded in my mind to weirdos. Please Dutch people, change my mind back SOON! Don't disappoint me.

.

Continue

Reading about Memorial Day and wondering

I was reading...

President George W. Bush said on Monday that the nearly 300,000 soldiers buried at Arlington National Cemetery were a reminder of the importance of completing the U.S. mission in Iraq. Bush was making his annual Memorial Day visit to the cemetery, where he laid a wreath at the white marble Tomb of the Unknowns. He noted that 270 of the 296,000 soldiers buried at Arlington had lost their lives in the Iraq and Afghanistan conflicts. "The best way to pay respect is to value why a sacrifice was made," the president said. "We will honor them by completing the mission for which they gave their lives."[source]

and I was wondering...

What better way to honor your dead by NOT adding more dead? Or injured. What mission?

.

Continue

Observing TV commecials

Why does TV commercial time, this season every year, alternate ads for ice-creams AND cellulite vanishing creams every few minutes? Are these companies in cahoot? Don't women have enough on their minds without TV commercial tug-of-war?

.

Continue

The day has finally come that food can no longer befriend me

A couple of months ago I awoke at 2 am with a stabbing pain in my chest. Oh-oh, this must be it. A heart attack. I closed my eyes and did meditation breaths to control my panic. My husband was at work and I was unsure if this warranted need of an ambulance. After a few minutes, I realized the pain had lessened but was distressingly present and spreading to my back. The first thing that came to mind was to leave a message of encouragement to my loved ones. Do I have time to write one? Are my things in order? Will they remember my wish for cremation or will they bury me instead and I'll have to come back and haunt them? Do ghosts really float everywhere? Like bathrooms and cinemas? Do my family and friends have a decent picture of me or will they just choose one with a bad hair day? What should I wear at my cremation? Do dead people wear clothes at cremations? Should I shave my legs? I sat there in the dark contemplating about the end and how unprepared I was and taking the pain. It slowly dawned on me that if this had been a heart attack I'd be feeling a lot worse and the chest pain would be overwhelming. Sure enough, the hurting gradually subsided and hey, I was still alive. Another notch on my 40 year old belt.

The pain returned twice after that, always at night, like a vampire and then I knew that a visit to the doctor's was inevitable. He wrote up several different tests but was pretty sure the core of my recent unhealthiness might be a gallbladder stone. Turned out he was right. Sediment (gooey stuff) and crystals (sharp stuff) are what causing my uneasiness (spear piercing my chest). As soon as school and university entrance exams for my kids are over, doctor's orders are to have a gallbladder laparoscopy. The procedure itself is routine and very easy on the patient; up in a day, out of hospital in two (hopefully).

The doctor looked at me across his desk and with a stern voice said: "You realize that you have to stop eating certain foods, otherwise the pain will continue".

"I can forfeit food doc. Just try me. But please don't cut me off the chocolate, doc. You don't know how bad it gets doc. I don't care about meats, breads, fruits and vegetables. I N-E-E-D the chocolate, I beg you NOT the chocolate. I'll be good..."

My words were of no avail. Chocolate's out too. As of last week, food and I are no longer on speaking terms. I've had to cut out a lot of things because my gallbladder acts up and hisses at me. O evil sediment and crystals, that you would banish my beloved from my tastebuds, tummy, hips and tooshie. The cruelty of it all!

.

Continue

What's all the fuss about autographs?

Once got caught up in a mob scene where a Greek celebrity was spotted shopping in a supermarket. Unaware that he had been in my aisle, I found myself trying to squeeze my way out when he started signing autographs. I tried to steer away and suddenly I was facing him, celebrity smile aglow, pen in hand, looked directly into my eyes and asked: "Do you want an autograph?". "No, thank you", I grimaced with a grin, because a fan was stepping on my toes and jabbing an elbow in my ribs. I think I saw a tear forming in his eye while he turned quickly away. Looking back, I feel guilty for refusing; I think I marred him for life.

.

Continue

Young and old rockers had their day at last on Eurovision Song Contest

The Eurovision Song Contest (ESC) is a big thing for some people over here in Europe; mostly because some participants and winners went on to make gigantic careers in the music business. ABBA and Celine Dion are two of these examples off the top of my head. "Waterloo" was anything but prophetic for the Swedish band in the early 70's when they won. Celine represented Switzerland (if memory serves me right) back in her stepping stone years (early 80's) when eyebrow tweezers didn't constitute a necessary accessory in her handbag.

I'd be lying to you if I told you I'm not an avid viewer of the ESC. On a mature level, I don't endorse the whole shebang because the songs and participants seem to all be morphing into English-singing MTV pop music look-alikes with a rare musical ethnic characteristic here and there. Nevertheless, my adolescent subconscious finds it highly amusing trying to guess the winner and spot a prospective international hit.

So, last night I found myself plopped on the couch in front of the TV to watch the 2006 ESC which was hosted in Athens because last year Greece finally won first place after 26 years of participation. (The winner hosts the whole affair, which boosts tourism according to the ESC regulations. I have serious doubts that the Greek hosting committee can balance out the expenses of such an expensive party). Anyway, my favorite entries for 2006 were Norway (a beautiful ballad sung in Norwegian and one of the few songs in native language), Ireland (Brian Kennedy in an inspiring ballad which the Irish ESC entries are famous for), Finland (a hard rock song that would have gone unnoticed had the group not had a "KISS" concept), Ukraine (a bouncy young lass with good breathing and spunk for such a fast song) and last but not least Lithuania (six famous Lithuanian male artists with a befooling, singy-songy one-line repetition of "We are the winners of Eurovision"). I've got to hand it to Lithuanians they have a great sense of humor and I wish they had won if only to ridicule the over-played grandness of the ESC.

I immensely enjoyed the outcome of the contest. Lordi, the horror rock/metal Finnish band not only managed to make all of Europe take notice of their appearance but they also managed to sweep in the votes from every and any kid (and adult) who likes hard rock music; myself included. Finns had never won the contest for over 40 years and had given up hope of ever bringing home the ESC. Finland sent the group as a surrendered attempt to poke fun of the ESC's pop-idol victors. Well, look who's having the last laugh. I heard one granny on the news say, "Sure, the Finns won, by the time I could send one vote on my cell phone, my grandson had voted 10 times already for this group". Young and old rockers had their day at last on Eurovision Song Contest.

p.s. The highlight of the after-contest press interview was when the Finnish band leader (Mr.Lordi) sung the Lithuanian entry "We are the the winners of Eurovision". Quite amusing.

.

Continue

Itsy-bitsy spider

I was out on my veranda, watering plants, when a Daddy-long-legs spider scurried out from behind a flowerpot. "Go", I implored, "Save yourself" and watched it scamper down a drainpipe. I like spiders, in a healthy way; I mean, I don't collect them or keep them as pets. I'm not afraid of them or bothered that they exist; and I can't help but admire the intricate work of nature's needleworker in the form of a cobweb.

Not the same with Daughter#1. Big arachnophobic. And I don't understand how she acquired this phobia. One of the few English songs I sang to her as a toddler was "Itsy-Bitsy Spider". She loved the song and did all the cute hand gestures that accompany the lyrics and would blithely show off to Daddy or any other innocent by-stander her rendition. At some point in her childhood, however, she suddenly refused to hear of spiders or webs or anything spidery. She thought I was teasing her when I confessed that my favourite superhero is Spiderman. Could happen, you know. Genetically tampered and enhanced spider bites boy and transmits spider characteristics. Gooey web stuff spurts out of wrists, climb up walls and humongous water spouts... but I digress.

In short, she's scared silly of arachnids. Harry Potter book and film #3 turned into a nightmare for her when Aragog the whopping Forbidden Forest spider threatened to kill Harry and Ron. And don't even get me started on J.R.R. Tolkien's Shelob. Daughter#1 closed her eyes in the theatre, cringed and braced herself. A kid who walked, talked and breathed Tolkien tore her eyes from the movie screen. I was officially convinced that "SHE DOESN'T LIKE SPIDERS" (her exact words and tone). OK honey, try hyperventilating.

Occasionally, my offspring will scream in her room, jump on the bed and mutter incoherent phrases. We rush to see what's wrong. Her eyes popping wide and shaking a finger in the direction of the eight-legged fiend that has invaded the gothic segment of our household. We pretend to kill the spider and big gasps of relief are emitted on her part. And then she starts carefully inspecting her room for remnants of the invader, webs.

For some bizarre reason all spiders that have ever entered our home seem to go directly to Daughter#1's bedroom, as if they have a calling, a death wish. Spiders must be fascinated by Daughter#1's bedroom décor or the magnetic field under her part of the house particularly appealing. Either way, those spiders are about to get the daylights scared out of them once Daughter#1 is alerted of their presence. Some spiders play dead or act nonchalant, as if they're waiting for a bus; others try frantic scurrying to escape the broom chasing them.

Last weekend, Daughter#1 was cleaning her bedroom. (Parent tip: If you have an arachnophobic teenager lying around the house tell them that spiders love dust and dust-bunnies. They will sweep, shine and lick clean their designated sleep area). I heard a small scream closely followed by the muttered sound of the vacuum cleaner. Then silence. In a matter of seconds, a hideous laugh came from behind Daughter#1’s bedroom door. She emerged cleaner in hand and a smug glow of self-complacency.

Spiders be warned. Daughter#1 has just discovered new weaponry. You are now being sucked into the chaotic depths of our vacuum cleaner's dust bag. Save yourselves!

.

Continue

You know this age will go down in history as "tech era" because...

p.s. A selection of today's e-mail attachments. My friends keep me laughing and my blog looking busy. Thanks Chris.

Continue

Happy Mother's Day

Phone rings. MOTHER (I choose to give the one I'm imagining a Greek accent) picks up the phone and answers:

Mother: Hello?

Daughter: Hi Mom. Can I leave the kids with you tonight?

Mother: You're going out?

Daughter: Yes.

Mother: With whom?

Daughter: With a friend.

Mother: I don't know why you left your husband. He is such a good man.

Daughter: I didn't leave him. He left me!

Mother: You let him leave you, and now you go out with anybodies and nobodies.

Daughter: I do not go out with anybody. Can I bring over the kids?

Mother: I never left you to go out with anybody except your father.

Daughter: There are lots of things that you did and I don't.

Mother: What are you hinting at?

Daughter: Nothing. I just want to know if I can bring the kids over tonight.

Mother: You're going to stay the night with him? What will your husband say if he finds out?

Daughter: My EX husband. I don't think he would be bothered. From the day he left me, he probably never slept alone!

Mother: So you're going to sleep over at this loser's place?

Daughter: He's not a loser.

Mother: A man who goes out with a divorced woman with children is a loser and a parasite.

Daughter: I don't want to argue. Should I bring over the kids or not?

Mother: Poor children with such a mother.

Daughter: Such a what?

Mother: With no stability. No wonder your husband left you.

Daughter: ENOUGH !!!

Mother: Don't scream at me. You probably scream at this loser too!

Daughter: Now you're worried about the loser?

Mother: Ah, so you see he's a loser. I spotted him immediately.

Daughter: Goodbye mother.

Mother: Wait! Don't hang up! When are you bringing them over?

Daughter: I'm not bringing them over! I'm not going out!

Mother: If you never go out, how do you expect to meet anyone?

.

Continue

Dolphins have their own names

"Dolphins communicate like humans by calling each other by name, scientists in Fife have found".

I love dolphins with their good-humored nature, sleek swimming style, show-offy flips and of course their IQ. This new info discovered by scientists actually doesn't surprise me. What would surprise me even more would be if scientists could find out if dolphins call sharks names down there in water land.

Dolphins look like they're grinning all the time and I can't shake a fanciful picture devised by my own twisted imagination of dolphins teasing their long-standing enemies: "You're a smelly selachian and your momma's got a big selachian butt! [sing-song] Niah, Niah, Niah, Niah, Niah [/sing song]. Ooh, look it's smelly sharkie-warkie! Didn't your parents ever hear of an orthodontist? Your nose is ug-LY."

Flip. Splash. Look cute and precious for the humans. "Now, let's go whip some shark derriere!"


Ah, gotta love those peaceful, lovable ocean creatures! "No Flipper, stop chivvying the shark, you're making him cry..."

.

Continue

All in a day's work

Lady co-worker calls me for IT help.

-"I have this e-mail you see. It's a yahoo mail, right? And I don't know, everything's gone awry. It won't show a file in greek and I know it's fine in greek because they e-mailed it to me from the next office and I don't know what to do and do you have any idea what this is all about..."

"First of all take a deep breath. Now let's take this a step at a time", I ask patiently trying to register what her rant is actually about. "Let's try changing the character encoding from the browser's view preferences".

"No, it's not THAT! I want you to TELL me why things have changed and I can't view it in Greek any more! This didn't happen last week. Why is it happening NOW?" She plunges again into her hysterics routine about the damn attachment that's obviously in Greek character code but instead displays little boxes and wingdings.

I give up trying to talk her through it because she is too preoccupied with making sure that everyone near her (and some across town) hear her version of how it isn't her fault, so I resort to remotely accessing her computer and viewing the damage myself. (This is one of the advantages of being a network administrator: you don't need to actually go the person's office to solve some issues).

She sighs with relief when she sees my mouse tracking all over her screen. "Good, you're in. Now fix it". Side-note: I'm a pretty calm person and usually take things with a grain of salt but commands are a no-no with me; they don't win you any points in my book.

To make a short story shorter, the initial mailing of the attachment was flawed. She was quite upset at this answer and just kept asking "why? why? why?" OK, lady, breathe! I then logged into the adjoining office's computer, did the darn thing right by myself and re-mailed it to her. This wasn't enough for her to regain her composure. The "why? why? why? is yahoo doing this to me" dirge kept going. My patience was wearing thin and her refusal to shut up and listen wasn't getting us anywhere. So, I simply answered: "I. Don't. Know". She silenced. (God almighty! How sweet the silence!)

-"Wha, what do you mean you... you don't know? Who does?", she asked meekly.

-"Look, I'm not responsible for everything on the Internet. I AM responsible for our workplace's mail server and it's not part of the yahoo service. It was a bad attachment and you didn't have the proper encoding on and please... don't start again. The attachment is now viewable. My work here is done. I don't have the time to explain your whys and you obviously don’t want to learn how to make things right again". Exasperated and hearing the call-waiting signal on my receiver I ended with "The rest is up to yahoo".

-"Fine", she retorted, trying to sound determined to prove me wrong. "I'll call yahoo then."

I was too busy muffling my laugh when I took the next line.

.

Continue

Don't Nuke Iran

You may have read in the news recently about revelations that the United States is considering plans for a nuclear strike on Iran. I know I'm not alone in thinking this is an insane way to tell a country that it's wrong to develop nuclear weapons.

And where would these weapons come from? The type of weapons the US are including in their plans could be among those stored in Belgium, Germany, Italy, the Netherlands, Turkey and the UK.

Join me in asking for a simple assurance from the NATO countries which host American nuclear weapons that they'll not endorse or cooperate with a pre-emptive nuclear strike on Iran.

When I first heard that the US still maintains 480 nuclear weapons in NATO bases in Europe I was shocked. I find it hard to comprehend that in 2006, 16 years after the cold war ended, those of us who live here are still sitting on such a dangerous legacy.

The Bush Administration can't treat Europe as a convenient parking lot for its destructive missiles. The situation in Iran brings home a very scary fact: the Bush administration could implicate independent European nations in a war that shuns diplomatic solutions and invites retaliation, with or without the consent of the countries that host those nuclear weapons.

This is part of the action alert newsletter from Greenpeace that arrived in my mailbox. Please add your signature here.

.

Continue

When is too much information TOO much?

Why does Superman wear his underwear on top of his clothes?

.

Continue

Old Greek proverb says "Many words equals poverty"

Scene from supermarket:

Red faced Child clutching wanna-get-new-toy: "WHY, mommy, WHY"?
Mommy avoiding eye contact with munchkin enemy: "Because I SAID so".

We, mommies, have the best excuse in the world: Because we SAID so!
Mommies know best. And we don't need to elaborate.


.

Continue