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Tuesday, March 2, 2010
It's just this sort of thing that makes me wish I went to law school
It's not easy being a journalist; the job itself isn't super-hard if you have half a brain, but the reputation/public perception that we're all scandal-mongering, muck-racking dirtbags is hard to fight when you have people like Rick Sanchez representing the profession:
Honestly, we're not all that ridiculous. Some of us have pride. Scruples, even...
Monday, March 1, 2010
and I do mean idiot box...
One of the most endearing things about my husband (or most annoying, depending upon who has the remote), is his affinity for bad television. When I say the man will watch *anything* on television, I am not exaggerating even a little. As I type this, he is watching a show on public access television in which two African-American women are discussing... I have no idea what they're discussing. One's going to St. Louis, the other one wants to eat M &Ms. I have tuned out. My husband has not.
That is exactly the sort of thing he likes to watch. Public access is must-see TV. The guy who yells, "Read On!" to his companion, who reads passages from the Bible? Husband loves it. Oh and shopping channels? The more hideous the jewelry/outfit/artwork the better. Quacker Factory leisurewear? He'll watch it for hours.
Yet, if I try to sneak in an episode of Grey's Anatomy, I'll never hear the end of it. Not only does he watch awful television (his reasoning is someone has to watch it), he is very judgmental of the TV-watching habits of others.
Some nights, we just have to reach an agreement to put on hockey and be done with it. We can at least agree on that...
That is exactly the sort of thing he likes to watch. Public access is must-see TV. The guy who yells, "Read On!" to his companion, who reads passages from the Bible? Husband loves it. Oh and shopping channels? The more hideous the jewelry/outfit/artwork the better. Quacker Factory leisurewear? He'll watch it for hours.
Yet, if I try to sneak in an episode of Grey's Anatomy, I'll never hear the end of it. Not only does he watch awful television (his reasoning is someone has to watch it), he is very judgmental of the TV-watching habits of others.
Some nights, we just have to reach an agreement to put on hockey and be done with it. We can at least agree on that...
Don't move my STUFF!
So the 5-year-old, he has a lot of STUFF. Toys, subcategories of toys, construction paper, crayons, pencils, stuffed animals, games, trucks, cars, books, flashlights... and I haven't even gotten to the Lego section yet.
In an effort to help him keep it more organized, I took one of my bookcases, emptied it of its stuff, put it in his room and put some of his stuff on it. Since he is a child who craves organization (and craves is the word I was going for), I figured a more-organized room was a very good thing.
Except of course, I did it wrong.
"This is just going to scare me later!" he told me, furious. "Why did you move it all around?"
See, things in your room look a lot different with the lights off than they do with the lights on. Especially when you are a 5-year-old with a vivid imagination. Anything out of place becomes a terrifying visage after Mom shuts off the lights and leaves the room. See: "Bedtime for Frances".
He took everything off the bookcase and reorganized it properly.
He must have done something right, because he slept like a log, not even a request for a drink of water. Maybe I'll have him tackle my closet next... but that's a whole other set of scaries, isn't it...
In an effort to help him keep it more organized, I took one of my bookcases, emptied it of its stuff, put it in his room and put some of his stuff on it. Since he is a child who craves organization (and craves is the word I was going for), I figured a more-organized room was a very good thing.
Except of course, I did it wrong.
"This is just going to scare me later!" he told me, furious. "Why did you move it all around?"
See, things in your room look a lot different with the lights off than they do with the lights on. Especially when you are a 5-year-old with a vivid imagination. Anything out of place becomes a terrifying visage after Mom shuts off the lights and leaves the room. See: "Bedtime for Frances".
He took everything off the bookcase and reorganized it properly.
He must have done something right, because he slept like a log, not even a request for a drink of water. Maybe I'll have him tackle my closet next... but that's a whole other set of scaries, isn't it...
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