Angelina Jolie – Crazy Like A Fox

So, I sort of like playing Devil's Advocate. And I rarely write about current events because everyone else is.

Today, my friend Molley over at A Mother Life posted about Angelina Jolie’s decision to opt for preventive surgery because she carries the BRCA gene. This gene has been shown in studies to cause a predisposition to cancer. 

There’s a topic that I haven’t seen many people discussing with regard to this whole debate.

Cancer, genetic predisposition, science, health history, genetics. Check, check, and check.

But not mental health.

I tend to like Angelina. I think she is beautiful and appears, from what I’ve seen in the media to be a good mother (so it must be true). And she seems to be a decent partner to Brad. I happen to think Brad is a complete and total douche canoe, but that’s irrelevant at this time. And don’t even get me started on the home-wrecker thing. Poor Jen is completely clueless.

Anyway...Angelina lopped off her jubblies. For personal reasons. It seems to have been a relatively significant concern, since her own mother died of cancer.

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I’m not qualified to say whether or not Angelina suffers from anxiety. But if she does, I wouldn’t be surprised. She lost her mother to a very ugly and scary disease. She and her mother were extremely close, especially after her father and mother split up. And I know that she previously disclosed having performed self-mutilating and other harmful behaviors. And that she has stated, "My Mother Was a "Better" Mom Than Me. I think she may have issues.

The average person has a normal fear of abandonment and loss. These are natural human feelings. But for those of us who have actually suffered loss of a close loved one to trauma or disease, our anxiety is often magnified to unbearable levels.

It changes us. 

Affects our moods. 

Our existence. 

Our decisions.

I suffer from anxiety myself. I cannot tell you how incredibly stressful circumstances are when they are out of my control. I will do almost anything within my scope of abilities to prevent that stress from consuming me and sending me spiraling out of control.

So I can absolutely understand why someone with the resources, money, and family history might make a seemingly drastic choice like Angelina Jolie did. Cancer or elective double mastectomy? Her choice minimized the risk of dying and leaving her children without a mother. At least in her own mind.

And let's be honest.  

She is in the business of whoring herself out for attention. 

Just saying.

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And now, she is the absolute center of a full fledged media frenzy. Again. The whole world is engaged in a debate about Angie's boobies. Is cancer horrible? Yes. Was Angelina's decision shocking and drastic? Yes. Would I have done the same? Maybe. 

Either way, let's not forget. Negative press is still press. And we are taking the bait. Hook. Line. And sinker.

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Apparently, Rules Only Apply To Some Of Us

I'm a rule follower. It's just my personality. I know how some people feel about that. Baahhhhh...

Well, most rules are usually there for a reason.

Earlier this year, I was picking up my 10 year old Thing 1 from school at the end of the day. The children who are car riders walk out to the parking lot to meet their parents or whoever is picking them up.

On this particular day, I watched as two different cars backed up and almost hit children as they were crossing the lot. There are cones and a painted crosswalk, but it's a school. And the parking lot is total chaos.

The principal has sent out notes and warnings in newsletters. If the parents picking up must leave quickly, they are to park in the back row or the overflow lot. They are not to park in the front row and there is no backing up allowed.

About 2 months ago, there was a very close call when a group of three children were almost hit by a parent who doesn't feel the rules apply to her. There was a formal letter sent home to all parents and guardians. We were required to read it and send it back saying we have read it, understand it, and agree to abide by it for the children's safety.

And then, last week it happened again. Only this time, it was my daughter and husband who were nearly hit as Desi was walking Thing 1 up to the school in the morning. A van was backing up while the lot was full of children. Did I mention, there are a few repeat offenders? The person who nearly hit Desi and Thing 1 was one of them. It happens daily.

This parent and his wife always parks in the front row in the same spot so they can leave right away. Imagine how delayed they would be if they had run over my husband and child???

I am so pissed right now. I cannot even tell you.

It's not that there aren't options for parents who need to leave promptly. There are several other parking areas where parents can park and depart immediately. So why does this keep happening?

The principal has sent personal emails to this family because BOTH the mother and the father do it. Every. Flipping. Day! And the principal has sent personal emails to this family several times this year already.

I'm not usually finished working in time to pick Thing 1 up at dismissal and she goes to the after school care room. Today however, I happened to be finished in time to pick my daughter up at dismissal.

And because it's a small school, I knew exactly which vehicle and family who nearly hit Desi and Thing 1 last week. I saw the vehicle in question and Mrs. "Rules Don't Apply To Me" was sitting in the driver seat. I calmly walked up to her open window and asked, "Is your name So-And-So?"

"Yes."

"Well. Last week, your husband was parked in this very spot and backed up. You know. The way we're not supposed to until the children are out of the lot. And he almost hit my daughter and my husband with his van.

I was wondering, could you have a little discussion with him about this? I don't know how anyone could live with themselves if they hit a child in the school lot. I know I couldn't ever forgive myself if it was me."

She seemed a bit annoyed and defensive. She said yes she would with a half-hearted apology. She seemed impatient as if I was keeping her from more important business. So I kept on talking. You know. I can talk ALL day if I'm worked up. My hands were totally shaking, I was so upset.

I told her, "When I was in 2nd grade, one of my good friend's little brother was hit and killed by a bus in the parking lot of school. We all need to follow the rules here in the lot. For the safety of the children."

Ironically, she had a van full of her own children as I lectured her. I hope she felt like an ass. Not only because she and her husband do this every fucking time. But because her children got to hear about it from a fellow student's mother.

There are some rules that are less important than others. I get that. But rules like this one are not there to bend or be broken. Some rules are there for a very good reason. And yet, there are some people who don't seem to think that any rules apply to them. And they're teaching it to their children.

All I can say is this. She and her husband are damned lucky they haven't hit and hurt any of the children yet. And extra lucky my daughter and husband escaped unharmed. And super, especially lucky she caught me on a good day today. Or my language would have been FAR less tame. Just saying.

I Invented The Red Box

It's true. I invented the Red Box.

You know...this one.

It was sometime around 1992 or so. Desi and I were married and he so loved to take driving trips across the country to show me all of the places his family traveled through when he was a child.

Desi is a serious road-tripper. So he loves to drive for miles and miles at a time without stopping. At all. Unless he absolutely has to. 

If you know anything about me, you know I can tend to get bored easily. And I almost never sit still. I basically have two speeds. 1. Horizontal (not that way, pervs!) and 2. "Ferret On Crack" speed, as A Motherlife calls it. Plus, I talk a LOT.

You can imagine how much fun it must be to travel on long road trips with me. Probably as much fun as you would expect if you were trapped in box with a rabid badger who talks for 8-10 hours at a time.

Also, I can't read in the car to keep my mind occupied. I get car sick and vomit violently if I even think about trying to read while riding. It's awesome. 

Riding and sitting still for hours and hours without anything to do but talk becomes a little painful. Desi patiently listens to my incessant yammering, but after so long I feel sort of bad for him. And I'm pretty sure he's gone to his "Happy Place." Or quietly insane.

After about 100 miles into the trip, I was guessing he was wishing he had brought his Sony Discman. Or some Chloroform. And duct tape. And a shovel.

We had music via cassette tapes and AM/FM radio. That helped a little. But we were stuck with whatever stations came in on the radio depending on our current location. At 70 mph hour on a highway, there's not much that stays in range for long. And I can tell you with certainty that there is nothing worth listening to on any radio station between Butte and Boise. Take my word. 

Driving through places like Tillamook, which is known for its cheese and subsequent rancid aroma offers an assault on your olfactory organs in every sense of the word. Pair that with constant stimulation of your auditory system via my unending chatter, and it's a recipe for a slow drive to Crazyville.

It was fortunate that Desi had no choice but to stop occasionally so we didn't  run out of gas. It made me ecstatic just to stretch my atrophied limbs. Even my ass was developing rigormortis! And I had usually been begging to stop to pee for about 80 miles.

Flying J, Petrol, and British Petroleum were a few of my favorite stops. They had all of the amenities a weary traveler could want. Even coin-operated showers for the overly hygienic trucker. I never actually tried the showers out since the heavily tattooed dudes loitering outside the showers scared me a little. 

In these truck stops along the freeway where we would stop to fuel up, there were usually books on tape too. For the truckers. You know, because truck drivers are usually avid readers. Only it's dangerous to read books while driving 18-wheelers at 70 mph on 3 hours of sleep and a fist-full of Ephedra. So they wisely choose the audio books over vehicular manslaughter.

Anyway, I didn't want to actually buy the books on tape for $10 each. I'm a cheapskate. I just wanted to borrow one until the next stop so I had something other than Tammy Wynette songs to entertain me when I ran out of pointless anecdotes and wisdom to share with Desi. 

At some point between Minneapolis and Missoula, I came up with an idea. I described it to Desi. Like this:

"Desi! Wouldn't it be cool if there were VHS players in our cars??? And what if we could rent a VHS movie like the audio tapes they have? What if we could pick one up at one truck stop and then return it at the next stop along the way? Wouldn't that be cool???"

To which he replied in his typical analytic tone, "Well, that would never work."

I thought it over for many more miles on that car trip. And then I forgot about it. 

For 10 years.

Then one day, I started to notice these Red Boxes popping up everywhere. They were at Walgreens. And Piggly Wiggly. And trucks stops. In states all over the country.

Wait! What the WHAT??? They totally stole my idea!

And Desi agrees. Finally.

So you see, I really did invent the Red Box long before Automated Retail LLC thought of it in 2002.

Unfortunately, I suck at follow-through.  

Dammit.