Yikes! It's Been Awhile

You know when your uncle asks if you're still blogging, it's been awhile ;)

So I guess that honeymoon period at work is over, because I've been quite busy the last few weeks, which is why my last post is from almost a month ago! As we speak, it's about 9:43 p.m. in Seattle and I've had quite a long day, starting with a great wake-up call from my boss at 6:30 a.m. telling me there was a mini-crisis with the client. Sigh. Glad that got straightened out -- unfortunately, I had to wake up my co-worker who is also in Seattle so we could get the whole situation fixed. Blah. Luckily, it wasn't our fault and we had tons of e-mails to prove it.

After that, I raced to get ready so I could be at an account training down the street for work. Busted out of there after about nine hours, came back to the room to check e-mails, and then ate at Chanantee Family Thai -- apparently one of the best Thai places in Seattle. And dang, it was a solid effort, that Phad Thai was. Yum.

We leave tomorrow, and I can't wait to come back to Seattle honestly. I like the people, the environment here, and the downtown owns.

Best part about the trip? I'm rereading the sixth Harry Potter book on the plane ride. I'm halfway after the flight here, so it's realistic to think I can knock out the rest on the way back. Clutch.

Here's a link to some of the places we went downtown (like Rite-Aid... they need these in Texas), and some people flinging fish. Because that's what they do here. Oh, and best part about them flinging the fish? We got all girl giggly when they threw it, started to walk away, and they threw a fake stuffed fish at us. Except we thought it was real at first. We screamed. It was funny. But you probably had to be there. :)

http://www.flickr.com/gp/23677584@N00/R969Vv

You'll note I also took a picture of the ferry area where the scene from Grey's Anatomy was shot. You know, the one where the series jumped the shark with the whole life/death/ghost bullcrap.

Okay, I'm sleepy. My clock here says 9:50, but my computer says 11:50.

People are idiots.

Someone told me about an incident that happened a few months ago with the Washington Post and violinist Joshua Bell. Watch both clips.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z0KdAXLSO0Y
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hnOPu0_YWhw

Sigh... only one person recognized him. It's not even like the violinish (term loosely used) that sits at the corner between 6th and 7th on Congress that attempts to play.

Today in History

1942: The Office of War Information was created, with the intent of disseminating timely information of American’s war effort through film, texts, photos, radio and posters to its citizens – you know, those super cool-looking “We can do it” posters of women, presumably “doing it.” “It”, I suppose, is subject to interpretation – but I say whatever those women were doing, they were doing “it” better than men.

1966: The Supreme Court ruled on the landmark case – Miranda vs. Arizona – and the “Miranda Right” was created. Personally, I think everyone knows by now that you should have an attorney present before answering any questions, but people somehow still forget. Oh, and you freakin’ idiot cops that don’t read Miranda Rights because you “forget” – I’m onto your game. I’ve seen enough Law and Order to know what you’re trying to pull.

1988: The world didn’t know it, but it was about to witness overuse of the word “Dude” by four-year-old twins – MK and Ashley turn 20 today. I don’t know – I thought they were at least 21… Oh, and fellow former network pal Tim Allen turns 53 today (she types as she sings the Home Improvement theme song).

1994: A jury found Exxon Corp. and the captain of the boat that leaked a ridiculous amount of oil in Alaska, guilty of being idiots with oil and killing some adorable wildlife (I’m pretty sure I sent part of my allowance to help clean up the poor birds that got oil all over them).

2000: Two 18-year-olds decide that their summer is going to be boring as hell if they didn’t have someone to hang out while having make out privileges.

2004: After a pregnancy scare, two 22-year-olds decide that a dog is a much better option. Especially one that comes to your house and immediately passes out on the couch, and who has the coolest old-man name ever.

I Hate MySpace

And yet I continue to log on daily. I can’t stand the fact that half of their features work less than half the time. If I was the Facebook founder, I was be seriously miffed. Facebook is a superior service, yet more people use an inferior product. I suppose it’s the Web 2.0 version of the Microsoft/Apple tale.

I’ve often thought of deleting both accounts all together, just because I’m sick of the time suck each provide, but I correspond with some individuals solely through these two web communities. *Sigh*, why can’t people go back to e-mailing? *Bigger sigh*, why can’t people go back to calling on the phone??*HUGE SIGH*, why are we suddenly confined to devices for interpersonal communication instead of more 1:1 interaction in person???

I guess I understand now why my parents “just didn’t understand” things. I barely understand things now, especially when it comes to teenage interactions – like through MySpace and Facebook. For example, I was watching “High School Musical” for the first time on Saturday (that is a blog entry in itself… good Lord), and at the beginning of the movie when the two leads are exchanging phone numbers, I thought they were just going to write their numbers on a piece of paper. I was seriously thinking to myself, “Why on earth is he taking a picture of her?” Followed by, “Why on earth is she taking a picture of him?” Conclusion: I need to get a camera phone so I can partake in this activity.

Okay, so at the end of the day (or blog), I’m not going to delete either one of these accounts. Maybe it’s because I enjoy both on some level, or I care enough to right a blog rant about it but not actually go through with it. Hmmm.

If you're near a T.V. in Austin...

Check me out on the 4 p.m. and 6 p.m. news discussing what the Las Manitas Cafe forgiveable loan means to downtown and other Austin businesses.

Because apparently I'm an expert on city council agendas and politics.

Because I sit on a bench in front of the restaurant.

Because it was my first time eating at the restaurant.

It's going to be on NBC-KXAN Channel 36 -- I'll see if there will be a video stream on the Web site later.

The New Digs

For the two of you that care, here are some pictures of my workspace at the new job.



This area is to the immediate right of my main sitting area. I have pictures of people, silly decorative items (like my Grey's Anatomy valentine cards), and my coveted Ikea lamp.

I am a firm believer in the two monitor workstation, as I've noticed sharp increases in my productivity. Seriously. Oh, and that's the newest Mr. Potato Head -- it's a transformer -- Optimusmash or something.

This area needs serious work. You can see some Dave stickers at the top, my Bloomberg flipflops acting as a book holder thingy, and some pictures of my husband and dog. Oh, and my phone headset. That's nice when you're in a cube.

In cube world, outside light is glorious. And I have a window that looks out to -- ANOTHER WINDOW. Haha.

Here is the entryway into my cube, with a terrific view of Sixth Street, Whole Foods, the Hill Country and you can't see it in this picture, but the lake. Nice.

Probably the coolest thing about the job is everyone's in cubes -- from the top of the organization to the bottom.

At my previous job, a lot of people made a big deal about the size of their office, what direction it was facing, and then the wee babies were in the cubes. Saddness. Anyways, I like this everyone approach -- it leaves out the drama.

For your viewing pleasure...

I got the eyebrows done this morning -- and because of a few requests, I decided to take some before and after shots.

And in the process, I've decided to share some eyebrow wisdom I learned along the way.

1. Waxing is bad. I got that idea back in November when this idiot screwed up my eyebrows and all of the hair still has not grown back.

2. Waxing is bad because it pulls the hair folicle out in such a way that it takes it six months or longer to grow back (my current problem).

3. Waxing is also bad because it takes a little skin with it -- and in time -- around the 40s is my understanding -- your eye area will start to sag and look older than it should.

So let me just say, my eyebrows -- as she put it -- still have a lot of work to go before everything is fully grown back in and normal. I have these bald spots that make it difficult to fully shape the brows properly.

But, I also learned about where exactly my eyebrows should begin and end, and where my arch should be placed. It was quite informative.

So, take the before and after with a grain of salt -- as I've got some bald spots that need to fill in, but in a year, everything should be back to normal.

And by the by -- the next available appointment I was able to secure is January 4, 2008. Holy crap, this woman needs to duplicate herself.

Why do I have to work?

It’s not that I don’t like working – okay well, really… who likes to really “work” – so let me rephrase. It’s not that I don’t like working at my current establishment, because I do, it’s that my job interferes with a variety of activities I would rather be doing. Like the Alamo Drafthouse’s Summer Kids series.

Okay, within that title states the obvious – I am not a kid; therefore, it would make since that your job would, in fact, appear to interfere with such an activity.

I mean, I really want to see “The Muppets Take Manhattan” on Monday at 11 a.m. – it’s my favorite Muppets movie EVER. Like, I cried when Kermit didn’t recognize Miss Piggy the first time I saw that scene (an subsequently fast forwarded through the scene because it broke my heart to watch that scene).

And Lord, I rolled when Gonzo did the water skiing act with the lady chickens.

AND OMG – the scene where Sweedish Chef takes the two popcorn containers and does his, “Deet deet deet deet deet deet” had me and my sister re-enacting the scene all the time. Seriously, I just paused to do it right now.

Sigh. I don’t like being a grown up. That has to be it. Being five (before kindergarten) was just the most perfect age.

And I didn’t tell you this – but Justin totally tears up when he listens to the John Denver and the Muppets CD – the Christmas album – especially the second song, when Rolf is singing, and then he’s like, “John…” Please tell me you know what I’m talking about!!!

90 is the new 60

I have good genes. I mean, I had a really hard time believing this – mainly because I’m thick through the middle, have occasional acne (which sure as hell beats the breakouts from my pubescent days) – but damn, I’m going to age well, both body and mind.

Well, if I take after two of my grandparents. Well, three – my paternal grandmother was always a little sickly. Anyways, today is my grandfather’s 90th birthday! And I just talked to him, and he played nine holes of golf with my dad today. Keep in mind, about a year and a half ago he broke his hip! Oh, and he is about to sell a plane he just built. And he’s flown it recently. My granddad is the stuff heroes are made of.

Not to leave my Gran out – she’s going to be 90 soon (either this August or next) and she still works out, her mind is sharp as a tack, and just all around cool.

Today, I was trying to think what I would be doing at 90. I would prefer not to be in a nursing home (my granddad still lives on his own, and my grandmother technically could be living on her own – but she lives with my parents), and I’d like to be playing the piano everyday – but not crappy. I wouldn’t play it if I sounded like crap. I’m thinking it would be a little hard to play the violin, because older adults’ hands shake really bad – at least, all the ones I know do.

Part of me also wants a crap load of grandkids – but that would require me having more than two kids myself, which I don’t see happening.

Okay, hmmm… I’m tired. I’m not writing a blog this late for awhile.

IDIOT! (said in the voice of Napoleon)

Sometimes I think I’m an idiot. I mean that in the kindest way possible, as I don’t want to offend myself – or others , like my parents, for example.

Have you ever been in a truly awkward situation and your only response is to briefly acknowledge said situation and then run away? Or better yet, don’t acknowledge the situation and still run away? I do this a lot more frequently than I thought, despite it going against my better judgment and sensibility.

Take for example an incident that occurred awhile back. I walk into a restaurant to grab lunch with a friend and see someone I know (who I know for a fact thinks I am, quote, a “bitch”). Sigh. I see her look at me with a death glare, and what do I proceed to do? Shrink to the size of a prune, look down, and not acknowledge her at all. Lovely.

Or the other day, I ran into someone I didn’t want to see, said hello quickly, and hopped in my car as quick as possible.

Or a year ago, I almost bumped into this old boss of mine who is a total jerk-off. Key word is “almost” in this sentence. I happened to see his car pull up, so I get into my car, hide, call Justin (who is still talking with the person throwing the party we’re at) and make him take me home.

So the question is why? Why on earth do I hate confrontation on every level? Why do I not have the guts to see someone who thinks poorly of me, (or I think poorly of them – which is only about three people) carry a semi-casual conversation and go about my day? Further, why do I then sit and over-analyze the whole incident?

Like, what would have happened if I told this guy off? Or if I had given this girl a big “EFFFF you” glance, or better yet, smiled, waved and walked away casually.

I would ask, WWJD while looking at my blue bracelet engraved with the slogan (how very 1995 of me) if Jesus saw someone He didn’t like – but I’m pretty sure The Man liked everyone. I mean, there were tons of people who didn’t like Him, and I’m sure he prayed for them, cared for them. And I do that with my “Top Three” haters – from afar, and preferably with my tennis shoes on.

Sidebar: Twelve more days until I get my eyebrows done! I’m so sick of people looking at me like, “WTF is going on with Jenni’s nasty looking eyebrows?” Yes, I know they look like crap people – but I’m growing them out so a professional can make them amazing. This lady is so apparently awesome at the art of the eyebrow, that I had to make this appointment almost four months ago! Everyone who is anyone in Austin goes to this lady. And since I define myself as “anyone,” I’m there! ;)

Happiness is Quite Fleeting

The week off from tasks and responsibilities has quickly come and gone, and to utilize a lame analogy – passed as quickly as a Texas Springtime. Monday I started a new job, which is freaking awesome. Many of my co-workers sit on exercise balls all day long, so I must go in search of one for the workplace, and I sense a hard work=hard partying atmosphere, therefore I should acclimate rapidly.

And to top the great day at work, I proceeded to get pulled over for speeding in Lakeway while driving to the country club to workout. It was my first time getting pulled over, and as I teared up while the cop checked my license and such (to clarify, I did not cry in front of the cop because that is stupid), Justin said I was bound to get my “cherry popped sometime,” and he’s probably right – I was about five years overdue for one.

Such bitterness, right? I suppose Justin could write multiple blog entries on his cop escapades, which are all quite ridiculous, and now he has a new one to add – wife gets clocked going 15 over the speed limit (mind you, going down a hill on a highway where the speed limit had dropped 5 mph) and got off with a warning. He proceeded to complain the rest of the way to the gym that I should have gotten one. MUHAHAHA. And the cop couldn’t have bestowed this warning on a more grateful citizen, as today I traveled well below the speed limit for the majority of my commute. I say majority, because let’s be honest, it’s quite impossible to go only 35 mph on Fifth Street.

I’ve just wrapped up day two of my “Week of Rest” from work, stress, and general strategic thinking and I’ve discovered two things:

*This is glorious; and,
*I’m already bored.

I’m so bored in fact, that I don’t really have anything to blog about, other than I’ve taken it upon myself to convert my entire closet to wooden hangers instead of wire and plastic. Not only is it pleasing to the eye, but it’s supposed to help your clothing somehow. Let me tell you, buying 16 packs of eight wooden hangers quickly takes up the majority of your trunk space.

Other than that, it’s been a pretty uneventful last few days. At some point, I’m going to start piano lessons with the next door neighbor (she’s a former concert pianist – incredibly amazing) and so I hope to get back into the groove of playing. Then I might get a few massages, take some yoga classes, lay out at the pool, and watch the six-hour version of Pride and Prejudice.

I’ll be ready to go back to work in no time!

Heart Racing, Head Throbbing, Water Pumping?

Let me preface by saying that I should never stay up past 11 p.m. on a weeknight. I just can’t handle the seemingly “late” night. And I swear I’m not 12. Some individuals just need more sleep than others, and I’m one of them. Additionally, I should never watch Pride & Prejudice back to back on HBO.

About 5 a.m. this morning, I awaken to a methodical beating sound. Maybe because I’m delusional at this hour, I think my heart is beating so loud that my head is throbbing. I take my pulse, and honestly, I can’t feel anything. I freak out a little more, and then realize that maybe this beating sound isn’t me. That’s probably after about 15 minutes of thinking I’m going to die alone. (Justin is in NYC). Haha.

Stumbling in my room, and Walter also a little out of it, we walk to the bathroom, where the pounding noise gets seemingly louder. At this point, I think that Ashley is in the middle bedroom sewing and beating her sewing machine with some kind of hammer or bat.

So we venture out to the other end of the house where the noise is definitely getting louder – but her door is shut and all the lights are out. And the noise is obviously coming from in-between the walls. At this point, I’ve concluded the following: I’m not going to die, my house is flooding through the walls, and there is a woodpecker floating in the flooded wall trying to peck his way to freedom/avoidance of death. Okay, I honestly thought we were having plumbing issues or the woodpecker got stuck.

I think we all know what I did next – I woke Ashley’s ass out of bed. Because, two girls trying to solve a plumbing problem or a trapped animal is much better than one. So, I wake up Ashley, who also went to bed at late watching the same movie and we both stumble upstairs to see if it is the hot water heater or something.

Putting our ears against the wall to determine if the sound is coming from the attic (instead of just opening the doors like wise individuals – I thought an animal might scurry our or something), we figure it has to be the hot water heater. I grab the attic keys, and discover it is – but have no idea how to turn the bloody thing off. So I just turn it to low and go back downstairs to figure out my game plan.

1. Call warranty plumber. Unfortunately, I can’t find the number, our Internet is down, and my computer broke. Yes – all this morning.
2. Text message Kim (work office manager) to figure out why the crap my computer isn’t working.
3. Call my dad. I think we all knew the parental phone call was coming. He said we may have lost water pressure and to call the city.
4. Call Kim. She gives me the number for the computer help desk at work.
5. Call the Help Desk and leave a message.
6. Call Justin and chew him out for not being here when I needed him. Unfortunately, I woke him up and he doesn’t remember much of the conversation, other than the fact I was chewing him out for no good reason. Which is true. Haha.
7. Call the city. They don’t even ask for my address (retards) and say that it’s my problem and not theirs. Of course, in the middle of that call the noise stops.
8. Call my boss to let him know I am coming in late. Unfortunately, the voicemail cuts me off and I have to call him back saying “The point is, I’m not coming in this morning so I can get this stuff sorted out.” He didn’t get the first message. Haha.
9. Call the plumber. I finally got the stupid phone number for the warranty plumber and they didn’t open until 8:30.

So by this point, the knocking as stopped, so we wait about thirty minutes and try and go back to bed. Unfortunately, every time I almost fall asleep, I keep thinking I hear the noise (which I wasn’t) and eventually just give up.

Long story, well, long story – the plumber won’t come because the noise stopped, my computer is fixed (I need to remember to reboot before calling people so I don’t look like an ass) and I’m at work, hoping my house isn’t flooding. Weeee!

Weloome to my blog!

This past Saturday, I had the opportunity to attend the wedding of a couple I had never met before, and will most likely never see again. I sort of felt like a wedding crasher, but more for the food and alcohol and less about the hooking up (because, I’m married and such).

So about 4 p.m. Ashley and I set out on a drive to the lovely Brenham, Texas, by way of Austin. I’ve taken this drive many times before – it’s a fairly quick route to get to the North side of Houston – but this was the first time I started noticing a bunch of “oddities” during the road trip.

Let me start by saying, I love Texas so much. I could never live anywhere else for a long period of time because it’s home. The people, the land, the history – I just get a wonderful smile on my face sticking my nose against the window during two hour drives through the country.

And it is during those “nose against the window” moments that you find the most ridiculous items to blog about. Seriously, I grabbed a piece of paper and started writing items down, especially in the small town of Giddings, Texas. (which I don’t have with me… so I’m still going from memory) When Justin and I went to the Woodlands for a DMB concert a few years back, we stopped in this town at the local DQ. But, it wasn’t just any DQ, it is a “DQ Restaurant.” Side note: we also received our food in record DQ time – literally Justin was paying and our food was already ready. Nice.

On this particular trip, here are some other random places that would only make sense in Small Town, Texas:

*Weloome to Giddings – You know it’s a bad sign when you enter a town and a hotel sign says,“Weloome to Giddings.” You’re already off to a bad start. Freaking spell “Welcome” right, people.
*Sands Hotel – A few signs along TX-21 and Hwy. 290 (think old school signs) advertised this particular hotel. Most of the time, I’m used to inns/motels advertising free HBO or something. This hotel apparently features “free cable w/ remote.” Because, you know, cable TV just isn’t good enough unless you have a remote to go with it.
*Slender Lady, Weight Loss and Fitness Center – immediately under the sign, “Tan 10 minutes.” Hey, get yourself in awesome shape, and then kill yourself with skin cancer. Nice.

Then immediately out of town, there was also a “Hydrocarbon Corporation.” I don’t know what hydrocarbon is for, but what on earth is it doing in this town, where the nicest “restaurant” is DQ?!

By the time we got to Brenham, home of Blue Bell Ice Cream (and passed through the town of Gay Hill – real smart name in redneck land), the wedding was about five minutes from starting. It was at a place called the Antique Rose Emporium and it was gorgeous. Seriously, if you are wanting a beautiful, small-town Texas wedding, this is the place.

The Middle School Diary

The other day I was cleaning out a closet (and its contents are still strewn across the study floor – I lost interest), and discovered my half-assed attempt at writing in a diary, circa 1994-1995.

It had a lock on it (which doesn’t work anymore), and apparently was from Hallmark – because I demand only the highest quality diary-writing material. Right.

I immediately open it up (however, I still remembered what the combination for the lock is), and on the back page, is a will I wrote for myself. I haven’t written a will since, so I guess if I die, the following things need to be addressed:

1. “All my belongings go to my friends and family” (because not specifying what things need to go to who is a smart solution – people can work stuff out – eh?)
2. “Tell Leti I’m sorry for our stupid fight” (To clarify, me and this girl named Leti were BFFs in fourth and fifth grade, and for whatever reason – probably stupidity and hormones – we had a falling out. In the will, I also say to give her back this keychain she gave me that said “purrfect friends” with some cats on it. How very 1994.)
3. “Tell (omitted) I love him and I’m sorry I never told him” (Only Justin knows who I put down, because it is incredibly embarrassing and something you only share with your husband because it’s so ridiculous.)

And that was it. Now, a friend of mine said how morbid it is for a 13-year-old to write a “living will and testament” in her diary, and under normal circumstances, I completely agree. However, the previous year I had this rare blood disorder that made me a hemophiliac for about six months (originally, they thought I had leukemia) and I very well could have died. So, the idea of a will makes more sense at that age, but its content is still ludicrous!

Side bar – Becki – you apparently stole my diary at one point in eighth grade and wrote an entry that was typical Becki witty. So, you probably know who “omitted” is… maybe ;)

BSC!

A blog that I read quite religiously is Pop Candy on the USAToday.com Web site. Whitney Matheson pretty much likes a lot of the stuff I do (her Lost postings, for example, are a must-read if you watch the show) and one of today’s posts proves it!

“Back when I was shorter and wore enormous glasses, I was hopelessly
addicted to The Baby-Sitters Club. In fact, I probably read Ann M. Martin's
series of books way longer than I should have, but, let me tell you, these
things were impossible to put down! (Favorite character? It's a tie between
Claudia and Mary Anne.)”

Mine was Stacey, hands down. She was hip, cool, from NYC. LOVED HER. My grandfather had diabetes, and so it was great to get a girl POV on the subject. Helped me to better understand the blood tests I would see Gramps do.

So, she links to a site from Scholastic – and it has a pop quiz to determine which babysitter you would be. So I did it. And crap, I’m freaking Kristy. I HATED HER. She was a turd. Probably my least favorite character. Unbelievable. Apparently it’s because “I always speak my mind and sometimes it gets me into trouble.”

But it gets even better. There is a blogger out there who is actually re-reading all of the books. Now I’m super hacked that I gave away a bunch of my BSC books – because I want to re-read all of them.

Anyways, she’s reading one of my favorite books right now – Stacey’s Ex-Best Friend, a.k.a. #51. I don’t think I ever told anyone I wanted to name my future child Anastasia because of the BSC, did I? Now, I’d maybe name my cat that. If I had/wanted/wasn’t allergic to cats.

Sidebar: Me and my BFF, Brandi, went to Town East Mall one Saturday in sixth grade to meet Ann Martin (author of the BSC series) as part of her mall tour. We gave her the biggest stack of book ideas EVER. Haha. I can’t believe we thought she’d read them!

Two weeks...

Notice.

I've accepted another opportunity with an PR agency here in town that provides a significant growth opportunity for my career.

The whole thing is very bittersweet, and it is almost like a mix between breaking up with a boyfriend and graduating college. You know you have to, but yet you'll always have good feelings towards that individual/organization.

So I'm taking a week off around this time, so if anyone wants to plan a trip to Austin, now is a good time to do that :)

But seriously, the whole thing went down very painlessly, and I have a tremendous amount of respect for everyone I work with here. That's the toughest part about leaving.

Soooooo... that's the big news.

stay tuned...

Big changes are coming!

But before I tell you and in the meantime, someone actually took the time to develop a graph of change. I wish I came up with that -- this dude probably made money stating the obvious.

Three Degrees of Separation...

...to Paris Hilton. High-larious. In eighth grade, Justin's cousin was "The Man" -- I think he dated every hot girl that year (so obviously, I wasn't one of them). Ah, the memories.

Tack on another year…

When Justin and I got engaged, we started talking about when we would ideally like to have children and settled on what’s known as the “Three-to-Five-Year Plan.” As you know, we recently celebrated our third anniversary and are now in this midst of this “plan” we devised.

Two news stories during the past twenty-four hours make me want to consider a “Thirty-five-Year Plan” instead. Or home schooling my children, which up until this morning I would never have considered. Let me explain…

Last night, after a particularly late evening at the office, I come home around 8:45 and watch the last few minutes of South Park. I hope my children would never be vulgar, but at times, I hope they are that sharp about what’s going on in the world – Cartman doesn’t count.

Justin then asks what’s on the movie channels, and so I flip around and end up on HBO Family, where they are showing “Middle School Confessions.”

Now, my mind immediately goes back to middle school and how horrible it was. Everyone is confused, hormones are wild, and you knew of about 12-15 kids in your grade that were total whores. I’m thinking to myself nothing has really changed, because I was in middle school only 12-13 years ago.

So this show starts interviewing a bunch of girls about how normal it is to give head at the age of 11 and 12. And I’m shocked. Justin and I are looking at each other like, we are never having kids, ever. I mean, these kids are talking about it in front of their parents! And these girls are saying how empowering it is, because they are in control and they wouldn’t even have to know the person and could just walk away. Seriously, my jaw was on the floor. Crazy. Which, by the way, if you go to the link I provided above, the girl that said that is the one with the braces.

Then this morning, I read an article on CNN about a group of fifth graders in Louisiana who had sex in front of their class for the fifteen minutes their teacher was out of the room. I mean, the worst thing that happened to me in fifth grade was the teacher left to use the restroom and some kid put a roach in my seat and I sat on it. I’m still bitter about that. These kids eventually were arrested because they were doing this in front of other students.

I mean, by the time my daughter is eight, will I have to start her on birth control? Will I have to worry about pregnancy by the time she’s 11? By the time she’s 18, will she be mixing my ashes with cocaine because she’s led me to an early grave? What is this world coming to?

Are parents not teaching their children morals, safe sex practices, or talking to them at all? Granted, 70 percent of the blame lies with the children, because a parent can teach two of their children the exact same principles with different results. But at the same time, are parents too consumed with work, their own activities, to sit down with their children and tell them how stupid they are behaving?

In my most thoughtful moment, I think the end of the world is nearing with stories like this, but then I was watching “The History of Sex” on the History Channel (it was interesting and I was bored) and learned about how people from the Middle Ages addressed sex. The Catholic Church at the time considered prostitution a necessary evil; at the same time, if you had sex and the woman was on top, you could be hanged. Then, there are these old prayer books from this time period with pictures of people getting it on in the margins.

So I suppose this isn’t abnormal behavior necessarily, but is happening way too early in a child’s life. Children at the age of 11 or 12 should not be expressing themselves sexually, and most likely are not engaging in safe sex. Think about it – you don’t even learn about STDs until ninth grade in the state of Texas, and most of the time, the teacher blows through that subject in about three days, and the topics never make a lasting impression.

All this to say, I would wait a long time to have children, because the idea of raising a hellion that sexes it up on the weekends, in-between classes and in his/her parent’s bed mortifies me, but the longer I wait, the more likely it is I’ll be worrying about this stuff during their terrible twos.

Regardless, don’t be expecting any birth announcements from me in the next year.