My KC Obama Fail – the 2nd most disappointing day of my political life

Kansas City has Obama fever!  In the last 24 hours he landed in KC, ate some BBQ and now he’s giving a speech about the economy in Midtown.

100 lucky people are watching that speech. Strike that 99 lucky people are watching that speech.

How do I know?  Because I had a ticket and I’m writing this blog as he’s giving his speech.  I’m not there.10443511_10153047534804552_1937506879404835464_n


Well it’s a long, sad story.

Gather round friends for a story of a simple, Kansas City girl with a dream of seeing President Obama and the day that didn’t go her way.

It started as any other day.  I got up and looked at my ticket first thing.  “Doors open at 8:30 am” the ticket said.

I bound out of bed and decided what to wear.  I picked a crisp bright red top and blue pants.  Perfect for standing out in the crowd and some might say a political uniform for women.  If I had a Hillary pantsuit I would have worn it.  (Note to self – get a political pantsuit for future events.)

As I got ready I came up with the best possible scenario that could happen to me today:

Obama looks out in the crowd and notices me in my bright red top.  I catch his eye and he comes to talk to me.  I tell him that I’m a political blog writer with snarky undertones.  He said he’s read my work and he is a fan.  He says it just so happens that they have a position open on his cabinet for a sarcastic blog writer.  He asks if I want to quit my day job and move to DC for a six figure salary.  I say perfect!  Deals done.  Moving van shows up and I’m getting the hell out of Dodge.  My first assignment is Boehner’s lawsuit.  Easy breezy.

As I peel off my Crest white strips I head out the door with my golden ticket in hand confident my scenario could come true.  I read The Secret.  All you have to do is believe it could come true and then wait for it!

I arrived at work.  The clock is ticking.  I know doors open at 8:30, but he doesn’t speak to 11.  I’m not going at 8:30 to sit there for hours in a hot theater with a hundred of my closest friends.  I’m going to be smart and leave at 10.  I’ll get there in plenty of time for his speech at 11.  I pat myself on the back for my smart thinking.

I glance at my watch.  9:45.  I head out the door and jump in my car.  Got to love KC.  I zoom up to the theater where Obama is speaking and get one block away from the venue.  I parallel park (thank you for my time in DC for crafting that skill) and get out of the car.  The police already have street blocked off.

I get up to the crowd and flash my golden ticket.  The police wave me over to the yellow tape area. “Up there ma’am.”  It was almost like they rolled out the red carpet for me.  This was too good to be true.  I felt like a Hollywood A-lister.  The protestors are on the other side of the street.  I’m sure people are green with envy as I glide the final few steps up to the theater.  I was walking on air.

I got so close to the venue that I could smell the excitement and then it happened.

“Sorry ma’am, venue’s closed.”

Somewhere I heard a sad trombone playing in the background.

“The venue is what?”

“The venue is closed.  It closed 30 minutes ago.  You aren’t getting in,” the very hot, but stern policeman said.

“But…but I have a ticket and I’m supposed to be discovered.  This is my big break.  What do you mean I’m not getting in?”

“Ma’am step away from the theater and stand over there,” the cop said point to somewhere behind a police horse’s ass.

That’s exactly how I felt at that moment – like a horse’s ass.

No amount of sad, puppy dog eyes or begging was getting me past those policeman.

Another group of people with tickets tried to get in.  I slinked my way up with them trying again.  The policeman caught me.

“I told you that you aren’t getting in,” said the still hot, but now angry policeman.

So I had 2 choices – stand with the protestors or head back to work.  I picked the 2nd choice.  I went back to my perfectly parallel parked car and left the venue completely defeated.

And that was how the 2nd most disappointing day of my political life ended up.

What’s the 1st you are asking?

(See Bill Clinton and the Monica Lewinsky scandal).









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My sincere thank you letter to Sam Brownback

Dear Gov. Brownback,


My mother always taught me that when someone gives you a gift, it is always good manners to send them a thank you note.  That is why I am writing you today – to thank you.  Now you and I have never seen eye-to-eye so why would I be sending you a thank you note?  It’s all about your campaign event yesterday.

First, you had Rick Santorum at your event.  He is my favorite batshit crazy conservative hottie.  He is my go to guy to headline any conservative event.  I am guaranteed two things: 1. that he is easy on the eyes and 2. that he will say something completely stupid.  Ding! Ding!  I was correct on both for your event yesterday.

“Sam takes on the dragons. He is the warrior,” Santorum said, later adding, “He is a visionary in a state that can lead.”

Who exactly are the dragons in the scenario?  The teachers?  Maybe it’s the Kansas taxpayers?  No I’m guessing it’s the underserved people who are getting screwed now that Medicaid has gone over to Kancare.  One thing is for sure, dragons are kind of like the success of Brownback’s tax policy – a fantasy.

I also love the part where Santorum said the free world was a stake with this election.  And people say I’m dramatic.  Geez…

Moving on…

I also need to thank you for the venue that you picked.  You had your campaign rally yesterday at a used car lot.  Now I’m not the one who started jokes centered around used car lots so don’t blame me for going there.

Here is one for your entertainment:

It was a small town and the patrolman was making his evening rounds. As he was checking a used car lot, he came upon two little old ladies sitting in a used car. He stopped and asked them why they were sitting there in the car. Were they trying to steal it?

“Heavens no, we bought it.”

“Then why don’t you drive it away.”

“We can’t drive.”

“Then why did you buy it?”

“We were told that if we bought a car here we’d get screwed …so we’re just waiting.

You are welcome.  Remember to tip your waitress and try the prime rib.  Anyway, of all the places you could have had your event, you pick a used car lot?  There are so many jokes to be had here regarding the used car lot and the state of the Kansas economy.  For example…

What does the Kansas economy and Brownback’s campaign rally have in common?  They both resemble a used car lot.  See how easy that was.  Or what does a used car lot and Brownback’s tax policy have in common?  They are both full of lemons.

I could go on and on….

Anyway, thanks for the comic relief.

Finally, my favorite part of your speech was the part where you blame the Kansas City Star for your troubles.

“We’re not getting a lot of good reporting from the Kansas City Star.”

Now hang on there.  Those are my peeps over there.  I don’t think you can blame the Kansas City Star for your issues.  If  I google articles regarding your failed tax policies I get articles from:

  • Kansas City Star
  • New York Times
  • Los Angeles Times
  • Huffington Post
  • Business Week

Just to name a few.  Here’s the deal.  They wouldn’t be writing these articles unless…wait for it…your tax policies didn’t suck.  Let’s just be honest.  You gambled big. If you would have won, you would be successfully running for President on this platform.  You lost and the result was now Kansas is suffering.  You can try to spin this anyway you want, but this is of your own doing.

Anyway, can’t thank you enough for a great laugh.  I really appreciate it.  It’s not often I receive a gift as good as this.

Sincerely (and I mean that),


A Chick-Fil-A food has been hiding a secret. Maybe traditional isn’t always better.

I realized today that I’ve been doing this  for over 2 years and have written almost 300 blog posts. (Does someone know somebody so I can get an agent or a book deal already?)  All kidding aside, I do this all for free, because I really love it.  I love politics, I love current events and I really, really love to give my opinion.

Thanks again for reading.  I am amazed every day that people read this blog.

This one is one of my favorite posts of all time.

Yours in all that is funny about politics,


July 27, 2012

To ice cream lovers around the country:

I’ve been hiding a secret. See, many people come in to Chick-Fil-A thinking by ordering an ice-cream cone they are eating ice cream. They enjoy my vanilla goodness thinking that I am the same as traditional ice-cream. I’ve been living a lie. See, the ice cream you have been eating at Chick-fil-A is not really ice cream, it’s actually Ice Dream.

That is why I am coming out today to announce to the world that I am not traditional ice cream. I am Ice Dream and yes, maybe that is also the name of a homosexual porno movie (Google it if you dare), but that is besides the point. I am proud that I am not traditional ice cream. I am no longer going to pretend to be traditional ice cream. The reason I’m different from traditional ice cream is from the way I was made. My ingredients make me different from traditional ice cream. It’s just how I was made and there is nothing I can do to change that or it wouldn’t make me who I am, a delicious treat.

I’ve been providing the customers of Chick-fil-A a thrill for decades with my smooth and creamy flavor. No one seems to mind that I am not traditional ice cream. I think this is evidence that traditional and non-traditional foods can live together inside of a Chick-Fil-A harmoniously. This is why I am calling on my owner and Chick-fil-A customers around the country to embrace me and the fact that I am not traditional ice cream and I am finally out of the closet.

I thought people would notice by my extra flamboyant flip that I do at the top of every cone. My flip isn’t a traditional end of the dispenser flip like other fast foot chains. My flip has extra charisma, a flare for the creative as one might say. I thought this would be a sign for people to know that I am not traditional ice cream. Yet, no one paid much attention, because at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter.

My owner, Dan Cathy recently provided a statement that he is in favor of biblical interpretation of traditional marriage. I think that by him serving non-traditional ice cream, maybe he can find it in his heart to change his mind. I am evidence that traditional isn’t always better. Sometimes, like my ingredients, it just comes down to how we were made.

Well, I’m glad I am now out as non-traditional ice cream. I’m proud to be Ice Dream and I’m here to stay.


Ice Dream

Chick-Fil-A’s ice cream of choice

My reaction to Hobby Lobby is a four letter word

I’ve been thinking and saying many four letter words when I heard the Hobby Lobby verdict from the Supreme Court this morning.



Son of a Bitch

Okay that last one wasn’t four letters, but I did say it.

In case you have been off the grid somewhere and just logged back into 2014, the Supreme Court ruled in favor of Hobby Lobby being able to exempt certain birth control coverage for their employees.  Specifically it’s A-OK for Hobby Lobby not to cover IUDs and Plan B.  The Supreme Court found that “closely held companies”  are not required to cover certain contraceptives if it violates their religious freedom.

This just in….  the “War on Christianity” in America is over.  Victory was declared today.

Moving on.

The four letter word I’m talking about to combat this horrible decision is not one of the words above  although it does make me feel better when I yell it.  Here try it.  Just yell one of those words.

See it does make you feel better.  It doesn’t change a damn thing, but it does make you feel better.

Back to the one thing that can make a difference.  It’s not going gluten-free or trying the latest juice fast.  It’s so simple – VOTE! 

Get your lazy ass off the couch and vote.  No excuses.  Don’t tell me there wasn’t enough time or you didn’t know who was running.  You have to vote.  The people who are voted into office appoint Supreme Court Justices and once they are appointed they are in there FOREVER!  Just look at Scalia for God’s sake.  The dude isn’t going anywhere and he has been in there since Reagan.  That’s before the internet kiddos.  That’s back when they were faxing their rulings.

Voting  matters.  Every election matters.  Even if they aren’t appointing Supreme Court Justices there is a program called Title X Family Planning that funds low-cost contraception.  Every year Republicans try to defund it.  That program is important now more than ever.  If employers are going to attempt to get out of covering contraception, we need to be sure the right people are in office who will continue funding important programs like Title X.

After you get done swearing about today’s decision – take the next important step and vote. Make sure everyone in your family votes.  Make sure your neighbors vote.

Oh and buy your craft supplies elsewhere.  Trust me – I stopped shopping at Hobby Lobby years ago and I’ve not been at a loss to find stickers and puffy paint.  Trust me your scrap-book of little Suzie will still look amazing.

I may have lost faith in our Supreme Court, but I always have faith in the American Consumer. We’ve buried bigger brands than Hobby Lobby.

Remember, swearing makes you feel better, but voting makes a real difference.




A letter to the great and powerful Dr. Oz from a girl from Kansas

Dear Dr. Oz,


There once was a girl named Dorothy from Kansas who went on a journey to the land of Oz.  She met a wizard who she thought had the power to take her home.  You know the story.  Turns out she had the power all along.  I was reminded of the story from the Wizard of Oz when I heard about your testimony to Congress last week.  Maybe it was your name, maybe it was because I am from Kansas, but it seemed all too familiar.   A little like life imitating art.

I remember when you came bursting onto the television on the Oprah show.  I was a faithful viewer back then.  You in your green scrubs seemed to have all the answers.  You talked about things that were happening with my body that I was too embarrassed to talk about.  You had all the answers to all my questions.  How much should I exercise?  What should I eat?  When should I call my doctor?  What was that tickle at the back of my throat?  Was that headache normal?  How much should I burp during a normal day?  Did my poop look normal?  Me, Oprah and the rest of America couldn’t get enough.

Then there was the book, “YOU on a Diet.”  It was the capital YOU that stood out.  Me on a diet?  Of course I’m on a diet.  I’m always on a diet.  Since I was menopausal at 33, I’m almost always on a diet and always struggled with my weight. Stay on the outside of the grocery store aisles you instructed and I did. You introduced me to this foreign substance called Greek yogurt.  I’ll admit, I still hate it, but I eat it every day because of you.  Almonds as snacks?  Sure, I’ll snack on almonds because you say it’s what I should eat for my heart and for my body.

You are the great and powerful Dr. Oz.

Next your own show.  I’ll admit, I didn’t see it all the time, but it wasn’t long before I heard about it.  My girlfriends were always talking about the latest Dr. Oz episode.  Just scrolling Facebook and there was  the latest Dr. Oz miracle cure.

Raspberry Ketones to aid in weight loss? Yes please.  I couldn’t get them fast enough.  You said it was “fat burning in a bottle.”  You said it was the same as eating 90 lbs of raspberries.

I took the Raspberry Ketones and….drum roll please.

Nothing happened.

I didn’t lose a pound.

Only through the congressional testimony did I find out that you don’t really believe the claims either.  What a disappointment.  I find myself to be a pretty intelligent person, but I wanted to believe it.  I wanted to believe it because you told me so. Oprah believed in you so while shouldn’t I?    Shame on me for not investigating it further. It’s my body and my choice so the saying goes.  I take responsibility for that.  However, shame on you for having such influence on a national stage, being a medical doctor and still being seduced by the entertainment value of it all and giving people like me what you know we want – the easy way out.  That’s exactly what we don’t need in this country – more convenience.  The really message may be boring – exercise more and eat less, but as a medical doctor it is your responsibility to deliver that message.   If the message is too boring for TV then stay true to your profession and get out of entertainment and back into the exam room where you belong.

Now I’ve got to get back to my healthy lunch of Greek yogurt and almonds.

Yours in the constant journey to maintain a healthy weight and active lifestyle,




The pussificaion of the American cocktail

In honor of my Grandmother who never met a cocktail she didn’t like.

Gather round America because we got a problem. liquors

Put your guns down for a second and pull up a chair.  We have to have an honest conversation about something.  I’m just going to be really blunt.  What’s up with the pussification of the American cocktail? I know that is really crass, but there is no way else to describe it.  You’ve seen it and I’ve seen it.  It’s slowly been creeping up on us and it’s something you and I can’t ignore.  I think we have reached a crisis level here ladies and gentlemen.

What the hell is going on with our liquor these days America?  Anybody else notice it’s resembling a breakfast cereal more than good, old American booze this country was founded on?

What compelled me to write this post was  commercial for “Cinnabon Vodka”.  Just let that one sink in for a second.  That thud you just heard was our great-grandparents rolling over in their graves.

Booze should be many things – smooth, intoxicating, dry, stiff, weak, straight-up, on the rocks.  It should burn a little and feel like it’s putting hair on your chest.  It should make you smack your lips together and go, “ahhh.”  What it should never, ever, ever I mean EVER do is taste like your calorie bomb, diabetes inducing, icing dripping breakfast pastry.  For God sake’s people what have we come to?

In an era where the most popular show is Mad Men, have we forgotten everything?  Booze was just booze then.  It came in flavors like whiskey, cognac, gin, and vodka.  That’s it.  If you wanted flavors there were things called limes and limes.  Case closed.  There wasn’t any under-aged drinking problems because the booze tasted like shit.  Booze was an “acquired taste” translation – it didn’t taste very good.  There were a few umbrella drinks out there like the Pina Colada and the Strawberry Daiquiri, but those could only be found on the Lido deck of a cruise ship.

Now our liquor rivals our children’s breakfast cereal.

“I know you get Fruit Loops for breakfast honey, but you should really try mommy’s Three Olive’s Loopy Vodka.”

Worried little Johnny is going to raid your liquor cabinet?  You should be! Your liquor tastes better than his Halloween candy stash.

What’s the matter with us?  Weren’t we once the home of the brave?  Why doesn’t that apply to our alcohol anymore?  People want to take semi-automatic weapons into a Chipolte, but they are allowing the American public to consume this stuff.  Pass a law or something.  Where are your priorities?

How can we be taken seriously on an international stage when one of our drinking options is peanut butter and jelly vodka?

What are we 6?  How about if we just really get at the heart of the issue and serve up this liquor in juice boxes with a side of fruit chewies instead of mixed nuts at the bar?  Then after four drinks the bartender can hand you a mat and you can unroll it on the floor for nap time.  After that maybe a little finger painting?  I know people say that kids are maturing later  and later these days, but this is ridiculous.

I’ll admit it, I’ve had a vanilla vodka a time or two in my life, but haven’t we gone overboard?  Just because you can flavor something, does it mean you should flavor something?

Maybe for all those people who are longing for the good old days in American, we should start by just drinking a good, old-fashioned cocktail  You want your cocktail to taste like cereal?  Here’s an idea.  Eat a bowl of cereal while drinking a cocktail.  Want your cocktail to taste like a cinnamon roll, eat a cinnamon roll.  I’m off the charts with good ideas.  Just stop with these flavored drinks.  We owe it to our ancestors and the future of America.

Let’s bring back this country’s greatness.  Start by mixing a good cocktail in honor of your grandparents.  They will thank you for it.

(PSA – remember to drink responsibly and don’t drink and drive)






My life as a pain. I mean my life in pain.

Many of you know I am a pain.  I know I am a pain.  I am a self-confessed pain in the butt.  I know I am a pain to politicians – Tim Huslekamp – R KS I’m looking at you.  I know I am a pain about issues I don’t agree with.  Sometimes I am even a pain about issues I do agree with.  Generally I am just a giant pain.  Here’s what many of you don’t know.  I am almost always in some sort of physical pain.

You are probably thinking, “aren’t we all sister.” Like almost every person on the planet I get headaches.  Heck, you probably have a headache just reading this.  My headaches aren’t like most people’s headaches.  In fact, I hesitate even calling them “headaches”.  A headache sounds like I need to stop making dinner for Susie and Johnny and lie down for few moments, putting a warm compress across my forehead and “voila!”  all better and back to normal in a matter of moments. My headaches are more like raging beasts.

I get two types of beasts – hereditary migraines and a type of beast called “cervigenetic headaches” from three herniated discs in my neck from an accident I had in my teens.  It’s the jackpot of headaches.

I always wanted to be the queen of something.  Turns out I’m the queen of headaches.

My hereditary migraines probably go all the way back in my family to caveman times where the only relief my ancestors got was hitting themselves over the head with a wooden club until they knocked themselves unconscious to get pain relief.  I got my first migraine when I was about eight after a t-ball game on a warm summer day.   I’ll never forget that day.  I was running around the yard and suddenly I couldn’t see things right.  I looked at a tree and only saw half the tree.  That was the tunnel vision.  The pain started shortly after.  As a child, I would get these beasts every six months or so.  Once I got a headache so bad I lost the ability to speak correctly.

As I got older the headaches got worse.  We are talking about the kind of pain where no room is dark enough, no space is quiet enough and I spend hours suffering from blinding pain that leaves me vomiting and exhausted days afterward.

I have triggers like all migraine sufferers – hot days, red wine, smelly cheese, exercise, msg, furniture polish, carpet smells, high tide, if the planets are aligned correctly.  The one and only glass of red wine I’ve ever drank was at my cousin’s bar mitzvah back in the 80s.  That was one of my top 10 headaches I’ll never forget.  The thought of no red wine causes people to gasp in horror. How do you manage?  If drinking a glass of vino would cause you to want to take your brain out from the pain, trust me you wouldn’t miss the red stuff.

Before you even start by saying, “have you tried?” The answer is yes, I’ve tried it all.  The list goes on and on….chiropractic, acupuncture, acupressure, massage, reike, chakra alignment, ancient Native American healing, magnets, yoga, meditation, pain pills, nerve blocks, physical therapy etc. etc.  My bathroom looks like a senior citizen’s – ice packs, biofreeze, muscle relaxers, migraine medicine, anti-nausea mediation, pain killers and other potions all to help alleviate the pain.

Between the migraines and the cervicogenic headaches, I am a frequent visitor at many local urgent care clinics and emergency rooms.  I immediately announce upon arrival, “it’s not a brain toomah” in my best Arnold Swarzenegger impression.

Thank God it really isn’t a tumor.  It’s just pain.  Chronic pain.  If I’m not in pain I’m waiting for pain.  When will it hit next? What is the pain going to ruin this time?  What plans will I have to cancel?  What fun thing will I have to miss?  Pain has brought me to the point of suicide.  The pain has destroyed relationships, worn out friendships and hurt my career.  I have spent thousands and thousands of dollars on medical bills and that’s just this year.

I was recently classified as a “chronic pain sufferer”.  I’m 42 years old.  I’m not what I have in mind when I think of someone who suffers from “chronic pain”.  I think of old people in nursing homes.  Not me.  Not people my age.  That’s why I’m sharing my story.

I thank God that  I’m not dying from a terminal illness.  It’s just pain.  So now that I’ve been labeled as a chronic pain sufferer, now what? What color ribbon do I get to wear?  Where is the 5k that I sign up for?  Pain is such an interesting thing.  It’s not a terminal illness like cancer.  There isn’t a struggle to overcome or a huge battle to wage. It’s just pain and it is truly a pain.

If you suffer from pain, how do you deal with it?

If you or someone you know is dealing with chronic pain, please share your story.  I think we all have a lot to learn from each other.

The queen of headaches,



KC Makes It To the Next Round To Win The Convention – I Update My Craigslist Ad To Rent My Apartment To The GOP

Kansas City just advanced to the next stage of winning the Republican Convention!  Dallas, Denver and Cleveland are still in the mix with KC.  I think we can all agree that Dallas, Denver and Cleveland don’t hold a candle to all of the great things Kansas City has to offer.  It’s the heartland for God sakes!

As a shout out to my city advancing, I decided to take out and dust off my Craigslist Ad to rent out my apartment to any potential GOP visitors for the upcoming convention.  I have added a few things to sweeten the deal.  I may be a Democrat, but I am no stranger to the potential to make some serious bucks by renting out my place.

Republican Bungalow You Won’t Want to Misshillary

2 bedroom, 2 bath apartment located in the heart of Republican country.  You will feel right at home in this updated apartment featuring:

  • Down pillows on the bed to rest your head after a long-hard day of thinking about the War on Christianity.
  • A large television pre-programmed to record every Duck Dynasty, 19 Kids and Counting and every Fox News Show.  Don’t let a week go by without tuning in to see what wacky things the Duggars are up to next.
  • Large closets to hold your large collection of Navy Brooks Brothers suits, white shirts and yellow, red, blue and the occasional purple tie.
  • A refrigerator filled with Kansas City BBQ to help satisfy your  trickle down appetite.
  • Close to expensive boutiques and country clubs that cater to the 1%.
  • A variety of Dr. Seuss books to prepare for the next Government shut down.
  • A coffee table displaying the latest issues of Guns and Ammo.
  • A comfortable couch where you can sit down and rest after figuring out how to cut benefits for millions of under served Americans.
  • Enjoy the extra desk area in the apartment where you can home school your little ones after a long day at the convention.

Prior to your arrival I will:

  • Remove all copies of Mother Jones and Vanity Fair.
  • Throw out all remaining containers of couscous, hummus and almond milk.
  • Update my music collection to include artists other than the Indigo Girls, Dave Matthews Band and REM.
  • Remove all Hillary 2016 signs.
  • Replace my Hemp lotion with an Axe Body Spray.
  • Hide all t-shirts saying “my body, my choice”.

As God as my witness, I promise not to add subliminal messages in the background while you sleep saying things like “Obamacare works”,  “Voter ID Laws hurt Minorities” and “Ban Semi-Automatic Weapon Sales”. Seriously. I haven’t even thought about doing that.  Really I haven’t.

All of this for the low….low price of $400/day.  Seeing is believing so don’t let this opportunity pass you by!


Why I want to be a drowner

I’ve decided I want a drone.

I’m not talking about the drones that kill people, but just a regular, non-violent drone.

Regular folks are buying drones.  A close friend of mine bought a drone.  Seriously – he called and told me he bought a drone.  I’m not really sure why he has a drone, but for some reason that sounds so cool.  He is a drone owner or a drowner. 

Just the other day a drone crashed into a St. Louis building. (No it wasn’t my friend’s drone.)

“According to the FAA, civilians can have and operate drones, if you maintain a visual while flying and keep it under 400 feet above ground. The drone that crashed Monday hit the 30th floor of the 593-foot-tall building. It crashed into a floor that houses a law firm. Witnesses tell NewsChannel 5 an employee of the firm found the drone and called security.”

I’ve compiled a list of things I would use my drone for:

1. Taking out the trash.  Now that I’m not married, I have to take out the trash.  I live in an apartment so schlepping trash bags out to the dumpster is a major pain.  I could use my drone to take out my trash. I would fly my trash right off my balcony. (Yes, this is the ultimate in lazy.  No need to point that out.)

2.  It could take my kid to soccer practice.  I could get a comfy basket on the bottom, my kid could jump in a whoosh she is off to practice.  No issues with her walking and my fear of stranger danger.  She could just fly to practice and fly home.

3.  It could take my mail to the post office.  No more standing in lines at the post office.  Just fly your mail right there.

4. It could scope out big crowds.  Worried about how busy the Plaza Art Fair is?  No problem.  Just send your drone with a camera to report back to see if it’s a go or if you should wait.

5.  It could take my doggie to doggie day care.  Remember how comfy Toto was in Dorothy’s basket?  Hook one up to your drone and fly little Toto to Doggie’s Day Out.

What would you use your drone for if you were a drowner?

It’s fun to think about anyway.




Warning: I’m hopping mad! Find out the reason.

Warning:  I am hopping mad today.  Proceed with caution into my rant.

What has me so upset?  Monica Lewinsky.

I never thought I would read about her again since her affair and all the press that followed.  We all remember, Ken Starr, the impeachment hearings.  Did he have sex with her or didn’t he?

I was living in Washington DC at the time and I’m only slightly older than Monica.  I remember the day the Ken Starr report hit the internet and everyone logged on to read it.  I remember clearly crashing the internet at our office as all of my co-workers logged on with the rest of the world to read all of the sexy details.  “CNN was scoring an as-yet-unheard of 300,000 clicks a minute. MSNBC tallied nearly 2 million hits — a one-day record — and about 20 million people read the report within two days.”

I spent a lazy summer reading her book.  I walked the same streets in DC that she did.  I shopped at the same mall.

So now she is back telling her story all over again to Vanity Fair.  What has me so upset isn’t that she wants to retell this story, it’s that she is claiming FEMINISM FAILED HER!

I was a young feminist back in DC during that time and I’m now a much older feminist.  The issue isn’t that feminism failed Monica, it’s that Monica failed feminism.

What did she expect us to do?

First, she may have been an “intern”, but I think that term is what is throwing people off.  She was 22 years old.  In other words, a grown ass woman.  We aren’t talking about a 16-year-old intern here.  At 22, my mother was married and starting a family.  Monica was old enough to know right from wrong.

Think about all of the young feminists out there working hard during that time.  Many got hit on by their bosses.  Many did the right thing and say no.  Feminists stand by those women who, with a clear head and regardless of the consequences, say no to inappropriate sexual advances.  Think about all of the other young women interns and how bad her actions reflected on them. Her actions resulted in people asking  “Are all young interns easy?  Do they all just want to sleep with their bosses?”  Monica owes feminism an apology instead of the other way around.

Do I feel bad for her and her hardships she has faced?  Do I think there was a double standard for Bill? Yes and yes, but ultimately Bill showed us that he is the master politician and able to recover.  That has nothing to do with feminism. That is the unjust court of public opinion.

There are many times that feminism doesn’t stand up when the time requires, but this isn’t one of them.  Feminism should have been yelling louder for the US to get involved when the 200 girls were kidnapped in Nigeria.  We owe those 200 girls an apology.

Feminism failed those 200 girls.

Feminism didn’t fail Monica.




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