tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7641725721622278032024-03-13T02:45:43.665-07:00Miss Spartacushappy lady, angry thoughts, random blogMiss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.comBlogger117125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-60640433661368730082024-01-08T09:17:00.000-08:002024-01-08T09:17:40.984-08:00Happy Holidays<p>I send "Happy New Years" cards to friends and family. I've done this for almost 15 years. I do this to wish my friends well with hopes for a happy new year. I also do this because I know I can never get my cards out by mid-December, when the "Happy Holidays" greeting is more appropriate. Knowing this about myself, I cover my ass and give myself to well into January when the "Happy New Year" greeting is still acceptable (minus Larry David), even if a bit well-worn. </p><p>In the same vein of covering my ass, I also tend to say: "nice to see you" when I meet someone who looks vaguely familiar. It covers me in the event that we have, in fact, already met. This happened on several occasions, where I said: "nice to meet you" to someone who was only too happy to point out that we had already met. Shame me once, shame on me... </p><p>But the way I say "nice to meet you" has to be kind and sincere, lest the other person think I am suggesting we have already met. It is merely a placeholder in case we have, not a direct assault on our prior knowledge of each other. It's similar to the difference between saying "you're welcome!" when someone has done something for you that you want to acknowledge and saying "you're welcome!"(2) when you think someone hasn't said thank you. People that say "you're welcome!"(2) suck. Don't be a "you're welcome!"(2) person.</p><p>So I do many things late, wrong or not at all. As a comic, it is hard to keep up a social media presence if constantly clipping and sharing your work is not your absolute priority. Jokes become no longer current or someone else gets a similar joke out first. It can be hard to keep up with every platform all the time. With that in mind, I am here, on my blog, sharing a video I made last week, but simply forgot to share here.</p><p>I make a Year In Review video each year for the past several years. I have fun making these videos... right up until the last day when I panic that I have to perfect it, share it and get it out in time for the new year. But once it is shared, I can relax and welcome in the new year. I relaxed prematurely and forgot to share here, a mistake I am correcting with this post.</p><p>In the interest of securing your forgiveness, I am including last year's video, in case you happened to miss that one. I think most people missed it... except Fall Out Boy. They definitely saw it. đ</p><p>In addition, I am including a bonus video that I made with family, for family, and also you, loyal blog reader, cause you're also like family. After all, it was Christmas and at Christmas you tell the truth, and the truth is, I have neglected this blog for the past few years as I have started performing live, but that doesn't mean I don't still love you.</p><p>So Happy Holiday! Happy New Year! Nice to see you!</p><p>xo</p><p><a href="https://youtu.be/wJGhdUx40CY?si=eVcLCmM8gWRnynXA" target="_blank">2023 Year In Review</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://youtu.be/oHax2JiDAI4?si=BfMWLcfDSBOxnTLP" target="_blank">2022 Year In Review</a></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKHbSOIqhkkVpC8z5BWGLCfKDj-2I_bnraF2sNbK7yrwFpPzjB7YZnWqHqLnaPn3Rr4nCyLpyLpAd5FdcMMQt0vWwMiHGMc8_xAs9KGLPX27XYTpJVMYuPvubQjh5hVFlm2SCV_c3Xxku_KuKgXH1RDrbaTUEIzCLRZ-GLGZSO0yJXHyeG0S2TLbZZjOwW/s1179/10downing.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="524" data-original-width="1179" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKHbSOIqhkkVpC8z5BWGLCfKDj-2I_bnraF2sNbK7yrwFpPzjB7YZnWqHqLnaPn3Rr4nCyLpyLpAd5FdcMMQt0vWwMiHGMc8_xAs9KGLPX27XYTpJVMYuPvubQjh5hVFlm2SCV_c3Xxku_KuKgXH1RDrbaTUEIzCLRZ-GLGZSO0yJXHyeG0S2TLbZZjOwW/s320/10downing.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://youtu.be/ho6VgiYEB90" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank">Happy Holidays</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-84734628695321554302024-01-05T08:42:00.000-08:002024-01-05T08:42:46.768-08:00Happy Holidays<p>I send "Happy New Years" cards to friends and family. I've done this for almost 15 years. I do this to wish my friends well with hopes for a happy new year. I also do this because I know I can never get my cards out by mid-December, when the "Happy Holidays" greeting is more appropriate. Knowing this about myself, I cover my ass and give myself to well into January when the "Happy New Year" greeting is still acceptable, even if a bit well-worn. </p><p>In the same vein of covering my ass, I also tend to say: "nice to see you" when I meet someone who looks vaguely familiar. It covers me in the event that we have, in fact, already met. This happened on several occasions, where I said: "nice to meet you" to someone who was only too happy to point out that we had already met. Shame me once, shame on me... </p><p>But the way I say "nice to meet you" has to be kind and sincere, lest the other person think I am suggesting we have already met. It is merely a placeholder in case we have, not a direct assault on our prior knowledge of each other. It's similar to the difference between saying "you're welcome!" when someone has done something for you that you want to acknowledge and saying "you're welcome!"(2) when you think someone hasn't said thank you. People that say "you're welcome!"(2) suck. Don't be a "you're welcome!"(2) person.</p><p>So I do many things late, wrong or not at all. As a comic, it is hard to keep up a social media presence if constantly clipping and sharing your work is not your absolute priority. Jokes become no longer current or someone else gets a similar joke out first. It can be hard to keep up with every platform all the time. With that in mind, I am here, on my blog, sharing a video I made last week, but simply forgot to share here.</p><p>I make a Year In Review video each year for the past several years. I have fun making these videos... right up until the last day when I panic that I have to perfect it, share it and get it out in time for the new year. But once it is shared, I can relax and welcome in the new year. I relaxed prematurely and forgot to share here, a mistake I am correcting with this post.</p><p>In the interest of securing your forgiveness, I am including last year's video, in case you happened to miss that one. I think most people missed it... except Fall Out Boy. They definitely saw it. đ</p><p>In addition, I am including a bonus video that I made with family, for family, and also you, loyal blog reader, cause you're also like family. After all, it was Christmas and at Christmas you tell the truth, and the truth is, I have neglected this blog for the past few years as I have started performing live, but that doesn't mean I don't still love you.</p><p>So Happy Holiday! Happy New Year! Nice to see you!</p><p>xo</p><p><a href="https://youtu.be/wJGhdUx40CY?si=eVcLCmM8gWRnynXA" target="_blank">2023 Year In Review</a><br /></p><p><a href="https://youtu.be/oHax2JiDAI4?si=BfMWLcfDSBOxnTLP" target="_blank">2022 Year In Review</a></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKHbSOIqhkkVpC8z5BWGLCfKDj-2I_bnraF2sNbK7yrwFpPzjB7YZnWqHqLnaPn3Rr4nCyLpyLpAd5FdcMMQt0vWwMiHGMc8_xAs9KGLPX27XYTpJVMYuPvubQjh5hVFlm2SCV_c3Xxku_KuKgXH1RDrbaTUEIzCLRZ-GLGZSO0yJXHyeG0S2TLbZZjOwW/s1179/10downing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="524" data-original-width="1179" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKHbSOIqhkkVpC8z5BWGLCfKDj-2I_bnraF2sNbK7yrwFpPzjB7YZnWqHqLnaPn3Rr4nCyLpyLpAd5FdcMMQt0vWwMiHGMc8_xAs9KGLPX27XYTpJVMYuPvubQjh5hVFlm2SCV_c3Xxku_KuKgXH1RDrbaTUEIzCLRZ-GLGZSO0yJXHyeG0S2TLbZZjOwW/s320/10downing.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://youtu.be/ho6VgiYEB90" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank">Happy Holidays</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p>Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-90308297518388706722023-05-11T09:01:00.001-07:002023-05-11T09:01:46.302-07:00This Mother's Day<p>Mom has been through a lot these past few years. This Mother's Day, give her a token of your affection to show her who her best bud is. </p><p>Flowers die. Macaroni jewelry ain't gonna cut it. Those homemade coupon books are cute, but give mom what she really wants this year...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/tqge7o4Jmnk" width="320" youtube-src-id="tqge7o4Jmnk"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://youtu.be/tqge7o4Jmnk" target="_blank">EdiblesArrangements</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>This Mother's Day, show your mom she's high on your list.<div><br /><p><br /></p></div>Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-69238890961646115342022-12-31T12:04:00.000-08:002022-12-31T12:04:37.287-08:002022 in Re(ar)view<p>Another year in the rearview, another year in review.</p><p>Please enjoy the word salad that was 2022.</p><p>Wishing you a wonderful new year filled with only the best love, laughter and celebrity drama there is.</p><p>It can still get better!</p><p><a href="https://youtu.be/oHax2JiDAI4" target="_blank">2022 in Re(ar)view</a><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/oHax2JiDAI4" width="320" youtube-src-id="oHax2JiDAI4"></iframe></div><br />Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-10773771835859630332022-04-22T10:40:00.004-07:002022-04-22T10:40:42.838-07:00Happy Earth Day!<p>Funny thing about the Earth: it's not indestructable. Funnier thing about humans: despite needing the Earth to live on, we are actively destroying it. Not cool.</p><div>Climate scientists are trying to warn us, but we are not listening... kinda reminds me of kids in general. We want to protect them and keep them safe, but they just don't want to hear it. Climate scientists are just trying to help and world leaders just don't want to hear it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Hope you will like and share this video.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/TQqoMHwjUM8" width="320" youtube-src-id="TQqoMHwjUM8"></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://youtu.be/TQqoMHwjUM8" target="_blank">I'm Warning You video</a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Also, if you can, here are some great places to donate money.</div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13); color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Roboto, Noto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<a href="https://donate.edf.org/give/402379/#!/donation/checkout" target="_blank">Environmental Defense Fund</a>
</span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13); color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Roboto, Noto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<a href="https://thesolutionsproject.org/donate/" target="_blank">The Solutions Project</a>
</span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13); color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Roboto, Noto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<a href="https://www.rainforestcoalition.org/donate/#donatedonate" target="_blank">Rainforest Coalition</a>
</span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13); color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Roboto, Noto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<a href="https://give.catf.us/give/399020/#!/donation/checkout" target="_blank">Clean Air Task Force</a></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13); color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Roboto, Noto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<a href="https://secure.ucsusa.org/onlineactions/dR5QqmX2uUCLCFD1KkVEzg2?MS=topnav" target="_blank">Union of Concerned Scientists</a></span><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13); color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Roboto, Noto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div>If you can't donate money, do what you can: compost, bring a reusable bag, recycle, call your elected officials and tell them you care about the Earth remaining inhabitable. We can only make a difference if we work together.</div>Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-82172800272492614632022-03-15T10:55:00.002-07:002022-03-15T10:55:48.624-07:00Jokes!I've been performing standup for a few years now, which is live and fleeting and amazing.<div><br /><div>But to be hip like the young kids nowadays, I have to create content for online consumption...</div><div><br /></div><div>Enter the video of a live joke:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/uRq-iGcPj5k" width="320" youtube-src-id="uRq-iGcPj5k"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://youtu.be/uRq-iGcPj5k" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank">Subway joke</a></div><br /><div>I'm hoping to post one every week... which most likely means I will post one for three weeks in a row, then once a month, then once in a while. Does owning my lack of motivation make it better? Maybe!</div><div><br /></div><div>If you like my joke videos, hope you'll check out my Showtime! page and join me at a live show.</div></div><div><br /></div>Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-26757871427881992232022-01-10T06:39:00.003-08:002022-01-10T06:40:54.784-08:00Are you still watching?<p>Netflix loves a good algorithm. So if they have you watching one of their shows, they want to keep you for other shows. </p><p>I am recommending they develop a new technology: the "sounds like" algorithm, a way to rebrand shows to appeal to fans of their other shows. </p><p>For example, for fans of the show Cobra Kai, they will now offer:</p><p>Cobra Sty: Hoarders</p><p>Cobra Buy: Shark Tank</p><p>Cobra Pie: Great British Baking Show</p><p>Cobra High: Dopesick</p><p>Cobra High: Free Solo</p><p>Cobra High: High School Musical the Musical the Series</p><p>Cobra Chai: (pronounced like the Hebrew letter chai): Unorthodox</p><p>Cobra Chai: (pronounced like the tea beverage): all of their Bollywood titles</p><p>Cobra Eye: Queer Eye For the Straight Guy</p><p>Cobra Spy: The James Bond catalog</p><p>Cobra Thigh: Workout Classes</p><p>Cobra Nye: Bill Nye Science Guy</p><p>Cobra Fry: Supersize Me and The Founder</p><p>Cobra Why: The Footloose re-make from 2011 and the Overboard remake from 2018 (also could be called Cobra Unnecessary)</p><p>and something for the kids, because it's too easy: Cobra Caillou</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgPrU2TTk9M7BCWDJFyfxqH8gX8L95czbpQjQXkDpNmkjroBw5A3ZOwgHLZR3j-3Xc25kbEX10dQwUuvZQ5aWpbeaQ8JqdaBP7AFdpjLhpYSIK9H4UHsS_Bp8tN7y9Ld1OgYePM-BfTfn4FCt3kxF20r1ZHBX67uYChWdJraJ97P7KF3zPyPqJrsB7b6A=s1570" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1166" data-original-width="1570" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgPrU2TTk9M7BCWDJFyfxqH8gX8L95czbpQjQXkDpNmkjroBw5A3ZOwgHLZR3j-3Xc25kbEX10dQwUuvZQ5aWpbeaQ8JqdaBP7AFdpjLhpYSIK9H4UHsS_Bp8tN7y9Ld1OgYePM-BfTfn4FCt3kxF20r1ZHBX67uYChWdJraJ97P7KF3zPyPqJrsB7b6A=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-49983084015053736072021-12-27T05:16:00.003-08:002021-12-27T05:16:43.810-08:00The Exit Interview<p>End of the year, end of the line. Let's face it... it's just not working out.</p><p><a href="https://youtu.be/tn0FKWFNL40" target="_blank">The Exit Interview</a><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/tn0FKWFNL40" width="320" youtube-src-id="tn0FKWFNL40"></iframe></div><div><br /></div>Please watch on YouTube and like, share, subscribe and all those things that we need to feel good about our life decisions. Thank you! <div><br /><div>Enjoy your last week of 2021!</div></div>Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-18540400794079312452021-09-27T20:36:00.005-07:002021-09-27T20:36:53.052-07:00 Why Iâm leaving my husband for Blueyâs dad<p>I have a crush. My current notepad is all hearts and doodles of our names written together: I heart Bandit Heeler, Mrs. Bandit Heeler, Bandit + Lindsey 4-ever</p><p class="graf graf--p" name="445e">Sure heâs the 2-D doggie star of a hit Australian TV cartoon. But a girl can dream, right?</p><p class="graf graf--p" name="29d1">First off, if you are not yet familiar with the TV show Bluey, go do yourself a favor and invest a minimum of 7 minutes (length of one episode). Even if you donât have kids, itâs worth it.</p><p class="graf graf--p" name="2685">In my youth I went for unapologetic good looks, charm and musical talent. But several years into motherhood, what truly makes me swoon is watching a fun, active, exceptional dad. Blueyâs dad Bandit isnât just competent, heâs extraordinary; his commitment to his family undeniable. He is a very good boy indeed. Some say manâs best friend, I think best friend with benefits?</p><p class="graf graf--p" name="c79c">Bandit. Just his name evokes the remarkable intersection of obedience and naughtiness⌠heâs not Killer, not Fang, not Crusher⌠heâs Bandit. Bandit Heeler. It implies a certain mischievousness lacking any real malice. Heâs perfectly imperfect. A bad boy with a good heart. Banditâs so cool, he could make âfetchâ happen.</p><p class="graf graf--p" name="1376">That good heart (along with his rugged good looks) are on display as he sets his life aside daily to engage with his children and be the best dad he can be. Bandit is patient and kind, but also silly and self-deprecating. It is a level of paternal selflessness and devotion to family not seen on TV since⌠well, since ever. He works from home, available to play with his kids whenever they want. They come first. And how can you not love a man who only wants others to come first?</p><p class="graf graf--p" name="30da">Bandit is laid-back, a true domestic dog, which is most apparent in his elaborate brekkie (thatâs Australian for breakfast) as well as his nappy (thatâs non-American for diaper) changing. In fact, his back still ails him from said nappy changing, a pain he manages to push aside for the joy and amusement of his children⌠what a guy! So relatable, yet approachable. The kind of dog you just want to grab a beer with and scratch behind the ears real nice. </p><p class="graf graf--p" name="098d">One of Banditâs most endearing qualities is his insistence that his wife live her life and go to work, exercise, or out with her friends. Donât worry, heâs got the kids. Theyâre in good hands, or paws, or whatever⌠either way, heâs got them. All us moms really want is time away, knowing the children are well looked after. Bandit ensures our peace of mind while we are away, and is never too exhausted to play once we return. Iâd give that dog a bone.</p><p class="graf graf--p" name="aa01">He also loves a bit of make-believe: imaginative play, role playing, cosplay. Bandit excels at keeping his kids not only entertained, but laughing and happy. Thereâs nothing sexier to a mom. And then thereâs keepy-uppy⌠Iâll play keepy-uppy with you Bandit.</p><p class="graf graf--p" name="9660">Of course a huge part of what I love about Bandit is his dedication to his family, so deep down I know he would never leave Chilli for me. But, Bandit, as the notecard in Love Actually read so succinctly: âTo me, you are perfect.â</p><figure class="graf graf--figure" name="9e90"><img class="graf-image" data-height="267" data-image-id="1*EWQM42WZXp7zCC9dl7V4bw.jpeg" data-width="189" src="https://cdn-images-1.medium.com/max/1600/1*EWQM42WZXp7zCC9dl7V4bw.jpeg" /></figure><p class="graf graf--p" name="7b4a">And sure, my human partner is the closest thing to a real-life version of Bandit Iâve ever seen, so I am incredibly lucky. But my heart will always have a spot for Bandit Heeler. </p><p class="graf graf--p" name="5b2a">Woof.</p>Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-31892159479428667542021-05-27T19:35:00.003-07:002021-05-27T19:35:42.268-07:00Return of the Cicadas<p>The cicadas are back! </p><p>After chillin' underground for the past 17 years, the cicadas known as Brood X are returning to the Eastern United States as the weather warms.</p><p>They are here to mate. To do that the males make a buzzing sound, which is their mating song. I'm sure it's lovely when you're one on one, but these guys are back in the billions, and they've only got 3-5 weeks to get their procreation on. </p><p>Of course, having missed the better part of the last 17 years, they may have some cultural catching up to do... </p><p>This is video from their welcome back party...</p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://youtu.be/Vw5wQg7elTc" target="_blank">Welcome back Brood X!</a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Vw5wQg7elTc" width="320" youtube-src-id="Vw5wQg7elTc"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p>Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-52778559128473145412021-04-21T09:41:00.000-07:002021-04-21T09:41:28.756-07:00Pandemic Got You Down?<p>Not sure what to make of the news each day? Feeling overwhelmed with the constantly changing guidelines, the easing of restrictions, the loosening of rules? Mourning the loss of our time, our innocence and our sanity. Well then this is for you!</p><p><a href="https://youtu.be/1Ql6oemHflM" target="_blank"><br /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://youtu.be/1Ql6oemHflM" target="_blank"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1Ql6oemHflM" width="320" youtube-src-id="1Ql6oemHflM"></iframe></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://youtu.be/1Ql6oemHflM" target="_blank"></a><a href="https://youtu.be/1Ql6oemHflM" target="_blank">Pandemic Got You Down?</a></div><p></p>Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-45281880088304910192021-04-06T10:36:00.003-07:002021-04-06T10:36:55.933-07:00A classroom is just the room you're learning in<p><b style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Alternative learning sites for New York City school children while the schools are closed </b></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">A year into teaching my kids, I realize they may be better off just joining the work force. They will learn on the job... literally. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">After a week of them having no school at all, it's good to keep in mind some alternative learning spots for school breaks or when the schools close randomly due to rising infection rates. </p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b>Bowling Alley staff</b> </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">If the elementary school kids canât lift the heavier balls, they can still shine and buff them and roll them over to a middle schooler to lift onto the rack. Keeping score in bowling is its own class of higher mathematics. And measuring feet for the shoe rental helps develop size and spacial relations skills. NASA here they come! <br />
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b>Bar back</b> </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">As most of the children are technically not of legal drinking age, they can study the craft, rather than pouring the actual alcohol. Mixology - ology, thatâs a science! The school experience this year has prepared them well. The âblendedâ model of school has them ready to whip up daiquiris and pina coladas. As it is important to encourage their creativity, coming up with a good garnish is the new art class.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b>Hair stylist</b></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Where better for kindergarteners to go to develop their scissor skills than one of the many hair salons that are open for business? Measurement and length are taught, pre-cut, as well as simple subtraction, post-cut.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b>Bouncer </b></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">With the bars open, someone needs to handle the influx of parents swinging by for some day drinks. The school closure has some parents relying a bit too heavily on the alcohol to get us through the day. How will the children know when the parents have had enough? Blood alcohol content is a percentage⌠thatâs a masterclass in fourth grade math.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b>Waiter</b> </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Most parents have trained their children to bring them drinks at home (if they are good parents). Those skills will transfer seamlessly to bringing strangers drinks and snacks at the restaurants that are still operational. The brunch crowd will teach them introductory Spanish: Mimosas, and shop class: Screwdrivers.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b>Gym attendant</b> </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Towel folding and rolling is the associateâs degree of the future. Give them skills they will use in their home life as well. Learning weights is part of the regular curriculum. Plus those tiny fingers are perfect for cleaning in the tiniest spaces of the machinery. NOTE: Spotters must be 5th grade or older.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b>Barista</b></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">In addition to the art of coffee making, the baristas will also be able to work on their penmanship, writing the names on the cups. This class will earn double credits, as most names on coffee cups also qualify as creative fiction writing.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><div><br /></div>Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-73293144254488584182021-02-12T06:51:00.000-08:002021-02-12T06:51:11.395-08:00Number 2... and that ain't bad<p>Sometimes I wish the 1997 romantic comedy Picture Perfect had been more popular. It would make my references to the movie 20+ years later a little less random.</p><p>Jennifer Aniston and Jay Mohr played unlikely loves back in what I refer to as romantic comedy's "moment." If my taste in movies is any indication, that "moment" lasted about 30 years. Sure, many plot points did not stand the test of time, like carrying around photos in your wallet in order to show people the person you're dating. But one B line plot that stuck with me was Jennifer Aniston's ad exec success when she pitched Gulden's mustard to embrace being the second most popular brand of mustard... "and that ain't bad."</p><p>Naturally the folks at Gulden's loved it. And young women everywhere learned to embrace being second best or accepting their second best attempts at love, a career or whatever may be.</p><p>From that moment on, second seemed just as good as first. Or, if not AS good, then slightly not as good, but in a way we're OK with. There's a life lesson there for sure.</p><p>Second best can be empowering. There is success in nearly making it to the top of any field. Silver medalists are medalists after all. </p><p>But there is one place where second best does not feel as amazing, and that is in the eyes of your children.</p><p>My son loves me. I know that because he tells me all the time. He tells me he loves me when he wants some apple cider. He tells me he loves me when he wants to watch TV. He tells me he loves me when he doesn't want to take a bath. I feel loved. Emotionally manipulated, but loved.</p><p>It is hard to deny where you stand in the rankings when that same son who showers you with pre-meditated love also seemingly ignores you when it comes time to show some love.</p><p>My son had two days of school this week. This is part of a larger problem of why I (and millions of other working women) are cracking up and literally at the end of our ropes. But I'm not here to address that. Thankfully plenty of publications are doing that <a href="https://www.thecut.com/tags/all-work-no-pay/" target="_blank">here</a>, <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2021/02/04/parenting/government-employer-support-moms.html" target="_blank">here</a>, <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/2021/02/01/working-moms-pandemic/" target="_blank">here, </a>and <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/on-parenting/working-moms-covid-pandemic-jobs/2020/10/29/e76a5ee0-0ef5-11eb-8a35-237ef1eb2ef7_story.html" target="_blank">here</a>. I'm here because it takes so little attention and acknowledgment of all we are doing in this moment to fuel us further. My husband and daughter show their love and support in cooking, baking and giant hugs. My son... oh, my son...</p><p>My son was given two opportunities this week to work on art projects to bring home "for someone you love." The first day, he brought home a beautiful card with 3-D cut out hearts that had been colored with love "For My Valentine." Inside it read: To dad. I am obviously well adjusted enough to understand why a sweet boy would choose his incredible dad to address his first Valentine to. I chose the same man to be my Valentine after all.</p><p>On day 2, he returned home with a more intricate art project depicting a rocket and a heart. Now you are probably wondering: who does he love "to the moon and back." And you will probably not be surprised to find out that again, it was addressed: To dad.</p><p>I'm fine with it. It didn't break my homeschooling heart. It didn't crush the spirit of this boo-boo kissing powerhouse. It didn't tear at the fabric of my sandwich prepping, stain-removing, bedtime story reading, bed-making being. It's cool. As Jennifer Aniston once taught me: I'm number 2... and that ain't bad.</p><p>Ironically, or perhaps tellingly, I followed this week's events up with a comedy contest in which I came in, you guessed it: second place. Still number 2... and that ain't bad! </p><p>So, in my best Carrie Bradshaw impression... I had to wonder: If number 2 ain't that bad, how come it feels not so good? If I didn't take so much time practicing my comedy, could I be number one in my son's heart? Or if I leaned in to being the second best parent, took the L and freed up some spare time, could I pull up my ranking on comedy contests?</p><p>The answer is no. I wouldn't want to do either of those things, partially because I am lazy and those options involve me working harder and partly because neglecting my son seems wrong. Attractive, but wrong.</p><p>I am doing OK. Things are fine. I can truly say with all my heart: I'm Number 2... and that ain't bad.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjENBOfzzGtkbwOMwCR2W8Fkr0tHFgG36MW8HoAPc-vh774cXg2RfBHqibsrX_hAT2IO4e8io3YHedSdUNZGBK1hColCX8Dvp5QSxzgiKBiHzLiwEmrkLwkUzq-GXrPdqe9dHrndVJEDIMt/s2048/IMG_2342.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjENBOfzzGtkbwOMwCR2W8Fkr0tHFgG36MW8HoAPc-vh774cXg2RfBHqibsrX_hAT2IO4e8io3YHedSdUNZGBK1hColCX8Dvp5QSxzgiKBiHzLiwEmrkLwkUzq-GXrPdqe9dHrndVJEDIMt/s320/IMG_2342.HEIC" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To Dad, with love</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p>Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-983349396308705082021-01-23T19:19:00.003-08:002021-01-23T19:20:11.900-08:00What Time Is It??I don't do vision boards or resolutions. I like the idea of both, but I have a short attention span and a terrible memory. I prefer to have weirdly specific things that would make me happy if one day I were to achieve them with no set timeframe, just an intention, a direction to head in if you will. <div>tl/dr: I'm lazy, but with goals.<div><br /></div><div>One of these goals was having a reason to make a composite flyer of "Upcoming Shows" as opposed to my usual single flyer: "My Next Show."</div><div><br /></div><div>I have a few shows coming up in the next couple of days and in addition to wanting to promote the events, I also wanted to acknowledge that having small, seemingly insignificant goals in life can be a nice thing when said small goals are achieved. It is significant to me, and so I wanted to share here. I'm uncomfortable publicly indulging my pride, but I think of this more as event promotion versus self promotion, so stick with me on this.</div><div><br /></div><div>Hope you can join me for one of my upcoming shows: (I've always wanted to say that!)</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2weKCV5c3mN-WzvgpYL_isQh7DTDqjHJtsIAqzNvrKo36r0dDp7FnQdLSkE-S3Xn84d4UIXmmSgxdL07j10vyBJsgYdpd89Rp1RJTXLCtiA8ZX2hv6fNFJVIDDAea-A_rIvhTjk_pUbEq/s2048/81D4BCD6-1183-416C-B485-A041932D9135.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="415" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2weKCV5c3mN-WzvgpYL_isQh7DTDqjHJtsIAqzNvrKo36r0dDp7FnQdLSkE-S3Xn84d4UIXmmSgxdL07j10vyBJsgYdpd89Rp1RJTXLCtiA8ZX2hv6fNFJVIDDAea-A_rIvhTjk_pUbEq/w300-h415/81D4BCD6-1183-416C-B485-A041932D9135.PNG" width="300" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>LIVE OUTDOOR:</div><div>Sunday, January 24, 2021: Phase II at Bustan <a href="https://www.eventbrite.com/e/phaze-11-live-safe-comedy-show-in-new-york-city-the-upper-west-tickets-137203067067?aff=erelpanelorg" target="_blank">Tickets here</a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>LIVE OUTDOOR:</div><div>Tuesday, January 26, 2021: Penthouse Comedy in Brooklyn <a href="https://www.eventbrite.com/e/penthouse-comedy-show-in-a-outdoor-heated-tent-tickets-134323261491?aff=erelpanelorg" target="_blank">Tickets/Location here</a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>ZOOM:</div><div>Wednesday, January 27, 2021: Uncle Clyde's Comedy Show at Flappers, Burbank <a href="https://www.flapperscomedy.com/shows/uncle-clydes-comedy-contest-round-one-week-four/61817/" target="_blank">Zoom Tickets here</a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>LIVE OUTDOOR:</div><div>Tuesday, February 2, 2021: Meat Me Here Presents Groundhog Day at the Gansevoort <a href="https://www.eventbrite.com/e/groundhog-day-comedy-special-tickets-137817362441" target="_blank">Tickets here</a></div></div>Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-23568590368057510822021-01-19T09:21:00.004-08:002021-01-19T09:21:57.871-08:00For the First Time In 4 Years<p>It's Inauguration Day! It's Inauguration Day!</p><p>I made a video for it.</p><p>Please excuse the singing... when I grow up to be big and famous, I promise to hire professional singers to sing my dumb songs. But for now, please enjoy my Inauguration Day video.</p><p>As always, if you like it, share it. Subscribe to my channel because I think all that stuff matters and one of these days I am going to sit down and do the work to figure out why.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://youtu.be/eFNSiVHAcxg" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtZ_ARCJfM_IYs8oyUeTTLox20hBPcKQ_n81vIgYjdSYEaRYIVBB0U-XObHZ6h2QNfsHYfH6nu-OBnq5gABXDavLoBQbbO7kMbT8io6Ttb-0odjEPhjvofyD7mofBo_LfLrqPstF3NJ3lR/s0/Unknown-4.jpeg" /></a></span></div><a href="https://youtu.be/eFNSiVHAcxg" target="_blank"><br /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://youtu.be/eFNSiVHAcxg" target="_blank">Inauguration Day video</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Thank you!</div><p></p>Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-38037576613915366932021-01-01T08:59:00.002-08:002021-01-01T08:59:42.735-08:00EAT ME<p><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">End of year reviews for 2020? Who would endeavor such a thing? Thereâs been way too much crazy stuff for one pithy catch-all list.</span></span></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I spent most of 2020 thinking they will one day write volumes about the time warp of a calendar year; the year that felt like 20. And then I realized, the books on 2020 have already been written. No, not Nostradamus. That scamp never saw murder hornets coming. </span></p>
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<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">No, the books on 2020 were written by Lewis Carroll and are our childhood cherished stories of Alice in Wonderland.</span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQkmMeu6YVuWwPTTdUsa1f2x_VN5bHYGvP0gN-G4djOWS8pbhw6lpwJnMd-uPFGQVPOgHAP3CZNTbgPnIF_z8gyM7T_Yi19wsVAyWwC8BsppumkClHM2F4sD4ypfhvPcscLR1HxKOagSbA/s590/440px-Alicesadventuresinwonderland1898.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="590" data-original-width="440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQkmMeu6YVuWwPTTdUsa1f2x_VN5bHYGvP0gN-G4djOWS8pbhw6lpwJnMd-uPFGQVPOgHAP3CZNTbgPnIF_z8gyM7T_Yi19wsVAyWwC8BsppumkClHM2F4sD4ypfhvPcscLR1HxKOagSbA/s320/440px-Alicesadventuresinwonderland1898.jpg" /></a></div></div><p></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Do you know a lot about Alice in Wonderland? Well, buckle up, you will.</span></p>
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<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The year 2020 <b>IS</b> Alice and Wonderland. It is a world of absolute nonsense. There was some scary stuff, but mostly just <i>a lot</i> of <i>really </i>weird sh!t. </span></p>
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<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">We are all Alice. Bored with our humdrum existence as it was on December 31, 2019, curiosity led us into the year that no one saw coming. No one, except Lewis Carroll, of course. Cast your mind back to the monotony of 2019. Miss it? Me too.</span></p>
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<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">We have all fell down a rabbit hole in 2020. For me, it was Chris Evansâ dick pix, but for you it could have been fascism or sourdough bread or âŚ. Ok, it was probably his dick pix for you too.</span></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx1INBJEzrMg48AkMkbgcU6l0mRTmfPwMoNzRSJRJa2JcQ13WTZPVg55J6Ip9H4xq7cKoyom0OFyfgXhyphenhyphenpoWCGu5txbwh3Zvx3jhgj6Dskb_i1BbnP4nupKYliW0CdJcoFkvDoIcCcnLVM/s256/images-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="197" data-original-width="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx1INBJEzrMg48AkMkbgcU6l0mRTmfPwMoNzRSJRJa2JcQ13WTZPVg55J6Ip9H4xq7cKoyom0OFyfgXhyphenhyphenpoWCGu5txbwh3Zvx3jhgj6Dskb_i1BbnP4nupKYliW0CdJcoFkvDoIcCcnLVM/s0/images-1.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The key is zooming in...</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Weâve been drinking potions at an alarming rate. </span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzwczJGua1SpyJtAKy1jZiiBD99eup_g33vKFvS3rKZBr8blasJ-jYyepQtIy3L7ee1W1yWD-jALm3kYumFMiZU6yxGIYBP4bdW0e7GC0xYosrQ0EWwVeioPREZ20i8vVoCy2iRZYn34-K/s618/Disney-Drink-Me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="324" data-original-width="618" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzwczJGua1SpyJtAKy1jZiiBD99eup_g33vKFvS3rKZBr8blasJ-jYyepQtIy3L7ee1W1yWD-jALm3kYumFMiZU6yxGIYBP4bdW0e7GC0xYosrQ0EWwVeioPREZ20i8vVoCy2iRZYn34-K/s320/Disney-Drink-Me.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">It says "drink me" It would be rude not to</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Alice canât go through a door and then cries a pool of tears. Relatable.</span></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfVngkNvjkQVQXsP1QKQsn5KsMpWbtiW6kTtob4zdfngsPJZiPAMqSp0Qhi4KOC8ytiA5R-SQkHxn8u5fMzskxAMS4OZFP-K17IrDH9efMqp6xWuNyyhJnCnBXPy4sUw5NSHW_nDdXxj0/s259/images-11.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfVngkNvjkQVQXsP1QKQsn5KsMpWbtiW6kTtob4zdfngsPJZiPAMqSp0Qhi4KOC8ytiA5R-SQkHxn8u5fMzskxAMS4OZFP-K17IrDH9efMqp6xWuNyyhJnCnBXPy4sUw5NSHW_nDdXxj0/s0/images-11.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Don't go outside? OK, I guess?</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBiZCQpgyXDgyGz-kZ989jcU17kL33yjeJQGItlp9HubQjwqTQ9vtuSMX6jPyU3VC1p_8jbsIMSu02rQ-b2yYV3GAk_Z1zf8A4rwNUpK6IY31HS9xJHM7YkjvX9ULGdgbgqIIi5OV3pgYB/s295/images-12.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="171" data-original-width="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBiZCQpgyXDgyGz-kZ989jcU17kL33yjeJQGItlp9HubQjwqTQ9vtuSMX6jPyU3VC1p_8jbsIMSu02rQ-b2yYV3GAk_Z1zf8A4rwNUpK6IY31HS9xJHM7YkjvX9ULGdgbgqIIi5OV3pgYB/s0/images-12.jpeg" /></a></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Alice meets the Dodo and asks him for help. The Dodo is in a âcaucus raceâ (thatâs what itâs <i>actually</i> called in the book!) where a bunch of characters that only appear in that one part all run around in circles with no clear winner⌠Yâall remember Iowa??</span></p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW2ciHjLZrjmJviffguHgrHP7xt4H3Nea4MDob3UAQO27dl4x1eQfuJF_pJjxaNd5hemt82vOgrWeZ-6_jWDF1TNdH7rR2GouGYw6E_ORD86DZqTwY_RTl8LWt2FL2J0qPeZYgGkF7Xswa/s318/Unknown-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="159" data-original-width="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW2ciHjLZrjmJviffguHgrHP7xt4H3Nea4MDob3UAQO27dl4x1eQfuJF_pJjxaNd5hemt82vOgrWeZ-6_jWDF1TNdH7rR2GouGYw6E_ORD86DZqTwY_RTl8LWt2FL2J0qPeZYgGkF7Xswa/s0/Unknown-1.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">Can we even name all those candidates now? </span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Donald Trump Jr. and Eric are Tweedledee and Tweedledum⌠not that they featured that heavily in the year, but I never miss an opportunity to call those two Tweedledee and Tweedledum.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm9YqtJBvqjztFJM_HDyqn5cjfG2KC7t4GGYidWCj6ixEGoeWuIgBBvEixYC5V7AJ7oDGgtw7x4gGBVlz9J6O0STdw740q5ljuHjO1QZmBhrwgW-YuJRPC-2KR0_06NnrxpJ706C3tOnew/s300/images-7.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm9YqtJBvqjztFJM_HDyqn5cjfG2KC7t4GGYidWCj6ixEGoeWuIgBBvEixYC5V7AJ7oDGgtw7x4gGBVlz9J6O0STdw740q5ljuHjO1QZmBhrwgW-YuJRPC-2KR0_06NnrxpJ706C3tOnew/w320-h179/images-7.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's uncanny</td></tr></tbody></table></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0-cFVubudl4oROlCu3gjs1puHOxjt1vV8vpmsb-H3jVDm4sYivGXQHauXMDFLeaATjh1aA5gqG-rxMOkOKaK_Sr1-FmRbmm8qPVdMaN4roJyrvQ5NdfdDaH3O7EZSOGBK0t3Fr2y6yHbv/s251/Unknown-6.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="201" data-original-width="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0-cFVubudl4oROlCu3gjs1puHOxjt1vV8vpmsb-H3jVDm4sYivGXQHauXMDFLeaATjh1aA5gqG-rxMOkOKaK_Sr1-FmRbmm8qPVdMaN4roJyrvQ5NdfdDaH3O7EZSOGBK0t3Fr2y6yHbv/s16000/Unknown-6.jpeg" /></a></span></div><p></p>
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<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Alice goes into the rabbitâs house, finds something to eat and she grows to the size of the house. Iâve yet to find the cake that will make me smaller, but not for lack of trying... donuts don't work either, and I've tried those several times.</span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The Dodo suggests burning the house down with all their stuff inside, which is a tight analogy for leaving the Paris Climate Accord. You might not remember when he tries to burn the house down. You also might not remember the Australian Wildfires, but they both frighteningly happened. </span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwSXaYzYdrVZsROeB40na_APa7xRSA2tvCS751D1qZPgsQOl20J6EK_uPlv2Zhv-RXb9U-rWENxR_HoUHP3IQ1RYVYrXPEMRWKKloQdu3u2eeziu3qPzExqr1dYdWfn1whesy1BwzzqtQf/s258/Unknown-3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="195" data-original-width="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwSXaYzYdrVZsROeB40na_APa7xRSA2tvCS751D1qZPgsQOl20J6EK_uPlv2Zhv-RXb9U-rWENxR_HoUHP3IQ1RYVYrXPEMRWKKloQdu3u2eeziu3qPzExqr1dYdWfn1whesy1BwzzqtQf/s0/Unknown-3.jpeg" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Yes, climate change is overwhelming, but maybe still "try" to do something?</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">There are the flowers that seem sweet when they think Alice is one of them, but then turn when they find out sheâs different⌠the Karens.</span></p>
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<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWlglGIx-Vae5wLnyFTb9PdOWITlk7XuPfvINdQiPDU3cSEhI83hcKAGyT5suh58FDzL2AJjrrkCrogS2WSOgTdz619BeSojPjIW1exgo1XPmTlCsD7tmEBFLCaCqvAiOpuIwfZE3Wkauj/s258/images-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="196" data-original-width="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWlglGIx-Vae5wLnyFTb9PdOWITlk7XuPfvINdQiPDU3cSEhI83hcKAGyT5suh58FDzL2AJjrrkCrogS2WSOgTdz619BeSojPjIW1exgo1XPmTlCsD7tmEBFLCaCqvAiOpuIwfZE3Wkauj/s0/images-2.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I find the Karen thing funny, but my name is Lindsey... and not caring because it doesn't affect me personally, is kind of peak "Karen"</span></td></tr></tbody></table></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: x-small;">The states that legalized weed are the Caterpillar. New Jerseyâs like, "Who R U? F this, weâre getting high!â</span><p></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">People were eating bits of mushrooms to bring them up or down⌠you guys, Lewis Carroll predicted microdosing!</span></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUeP47mhzR4k8T2m3UXTFWE-k97Uahh2zDhCzOHWrwu_514keKnLXDi0vI65iqcEnAUK2Mpw3leRUcy-TVaEG3-eRmZVDUVwmBsBZAc50FJnsYNtNuoPz1KdIcOf1WbWSm-xCYJaauPah3/s225/Unknown-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUeP47mhzR4k8T2m3UXTFWE-k97Uahh2zDhCzOHWrwu_514keKnLXDi0vI65iqcEnAUK2Mpw3leRUcy-TVaEG3-eRmZVDUVwmBsBZAc50FJnsYNtNuoPz1KdIcOf1WbWSm-xCYJaauPah3/s0/Unknown-2.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Actual pic of Chris Christie on vacation</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">Oregon is the Cheshire Cat⌠"Weed isnât going to cut it, weâre legalizing ALL THE DRUGS. We will get so high, all you can see is our smile."</span></p>
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<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgffVgskEx75HRGAYsNfKi06aGeIWc__Kl2zOyqA4rcX-f3Rd7CJ7jFLEGhhO_nLGdRHEPHwbIH57W_5bJyqM1U1semF5NyyDNUT__KE7oIarTCWhAY7XazfY1aY3YJJ_4HWJAuEWfH-PUP/s336/images.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="336" data-original-width="336" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgffVgskEx75HRGAYsNfKi06aGeIWc__Kl2zOyqA4rcX-f3Rd7CJ7jFLEGhhO_nLGdRHEPHwbIH57W_5bJyqM1U1semF5NyyDNUT__KE7oIarTCWhAY7XazfY1aY3YJJ_4HWJAuEWfH-PUP/s320/images.png" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">We got your anarchy right here</span><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>The tea party guests wished us âa very merry unbirthday,â because what was time anyway? No one knew the date, so celebrate that!</span></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6L2BH7edo17JnnQIWHd5BbbSs-0msvcwxVlUvYS9ufOORTg7TDmq9r1yv9zAu74tKRbmU5xCJmdM4cibuiKF7_y1urAnLFGyDPFtD7jvnEBzD58kIxw7v3RHy2o9yAdeCQQ_Y-3EPikLt/s258/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="195" data-original-width="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6L2BH7edo17JnnQIWHd5BbbSs-0msvcwxVlUvYS9ufOORTg7TDmq9r1yv9zAu74tKRbmU5xCJmdM4cibuiKF7_y1urAnLFGyDPFtD7jvnEBzD58kIxw7v3RHy2o9yAdeCQQ_Y-3EPikLt/s0/Unknown.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Is it March-ember yet?</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Brexit was the dormouse at the tea party: drunk and passed out in the teapot, and we had all forgotten about them already.</span></p>
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The March hare is the whisker I lived with the entire month of March because I was too depressed to pluck it.</span></p>
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<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The Mad Hatters -Hmmm, can you think of any mad hat wearers? I think it refers to the MAGA hats, although Rudy Giuliani is mad as a hatter, so thereâs room for interpretation on that one.</span></p>
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<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxBGnomGQ3MoBfr69QBeaBbvVD-6oGWzA8ZmQE4XqUIPs-XVPhBOv5ZhpCSDRHYPiqIa_i1Y_ewG6wFXHQHAR7x_i6ci-AFWUekg_FRLsajcQrkLTMBKR7xdHTwyY_GyRTe0sn1ORRTM7p/s297/images-5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="297" data-original-width="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxBGnomGQ3MoBfr69QBeaBbvVD-6oGWzA8ZmQE4XqUIPs-XVPhBOv5ZhpCSDRHYPiqIa_i1Y_ewG6wFXHQHAR7x_i6ci-AFWUekg_FRLsajcQrkLTMBKR7xdHTwyY_GyRTe0sn1ORRTM7p/s0/images-5.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">At least this guy is smart enough to avoid the hair dye</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">At the tea party, they screamed âno room! no room!â Thatâs basically how we felt when the murder hornets showed up. Tell the fire tornadoes and toilet snakes that there is no room for more craziness in 2020. UFO sightings and locust swarms are enough.</span></p>
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<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The Nevada votes are the white rabbit⌠âIâm late, Iâm late!â The white rabbit carries a pocketwatch, but Nevada is known for not having clocks in their casinos, so of course they were late.</span></p>
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<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGhE23_WCw_6h3szqwjKZOPL-9oxpBQcdSBOW8jUShBMmSFoBBF1WFoEtOmcvZnbIUqkiigQOFvjOiAJWXT_-TRQqpmGCx5U1FHNv9Q-CpKO50SCcZMRv-egoS1cvi_fKgw9R5OlZGk5oz/s400/The_White_Rabbit_%2528Tenniel%2529_-_The_Nursery_Alice_%25281890%2529_-_BL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="238" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGhE23_WCw_6h3szqwjKZOPL-9oxpBQcdSBOW8jUShBMmSFoBBF1WFoEtOmcvZnbIUqkiigQOFvjOiAJWXT_-TRQqpmGCx5U1FHNv9Q-CpKO50SCcZMRv-egoS1cvi_fKgw9R5OlZGk5oz/s320/The_White_Rabbit_%2528Tenniel%2529_-_The_Nursery_Alice_%25281890%2529_-_BL.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Place your bets on blue</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The Queen of Hearts is Covid 19⌠the evil looming presence that isnât always seen, but is the cause of most of the bad stuff. It does what it wants and ultimately, it wants to kill us all.</span></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyphenhyphenyl_8X3pSNSdqKroqmX6dXnldNHqK1iuiVyUV9ssSKB3X4hLz9nlrh3vMRfoxq4crg7qgqyt8kujKxf6jDO3StxApPy7xf1MUoATEpuCRMj3lv1mMeIyKDYAhJeExbftGXtiZUd1SPEX/s268/Unknown-5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="268" data-original-width="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyphenhyphenyl_8X3pSNSdqKroqmX6dXnldNHqK1iuiVyUV9ssSKB3X4hLz9nlrh3vMRfoxq4crg7qgqyt8kujKxf6jDO3StxApPy7xf1MUoATEpuCRMj3lv1mMeIyKDYAhJeExbftGXtiZUd1SPEX/s0/Unknown-5.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">No way but MY way</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Thereâs a White King, because in 2020, of course there is.</span></p>
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<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWozkqEkpl4yKz35WS6hd39EKf9SvZ1JHwTGVllNHz9eoF-2gb5GEz6wBKvC_6lRQKGqrnC9NVh04t78ES6NRO2mHh21o5KOsLgOjlVadtyRAFsfvqC58dXDe6knbN44COM0XhK9ra4f5n/s260/Unknown-4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWozkqEkpl4yKz35WS6hd39EKf9SvZ1JHwTGVllNHz9eoF-2gb5GEz6wBKvC_6lRQKGqrnC9NVh04t78ES6NRO2mHh21o5KOsLgOjlVadtyRAFsfvqC58dXDe6knbN44COM0XhK9ra4f5n/s0/Unknown-4.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Read the room dude</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The playing cards are the loyal staff of the leader. They screw up and plant the wrong roses. Then they spend all their time, year round, painting the white roses red, or as I like to think of it: Four Seasons: Total Landscaping. This one has the unique distinction of being funnier in real life than in the story. Guys, they booked the Four Seasons - Total Landscaping. I just wanted to make sure everyone still remembers.</span></p>
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<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfciJzn6KJPf5q_N7PwyxTDkYEHOCdamOPA3awG37Aa4npZy1iF-Al-znmoAPMW_tN1uUEy8vz5xezrNJn12YtZ9yTyIF7W80Jo7PmW3TFI4mkdXraTYxl8o74r20ZrJuGi8AzD8iL7eAS/s494/PlayingCards_Rosebush.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="494" data-original-width="336" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfciJzn6KJPf5q_N7PwyxTDkYEHOCdamOPA3awG37Aa4npZy1iF-Al-znmoAPMW_tN1uUEy8vz5xezrNJn12YtZ9yTyIF7W80Jo7PmW3TFI4mkdXraTYxl8o74r20ZrJuGi8AzD8iL7eAS/s320/PlayingCards_Rosebush.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">They booked the Four Seasons-Total Landscaping!</span></td></tr></tbody></table></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: x-small;">There are trials that are a farce (the impeachment) and others that have no legal grounds (the election ones).</span><p></p>
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<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The Queenâs favorite pastime is croquet. You might also call croquet: terrible golf, which is undeniably what Donald Trump plays⌠and played over 30 times while 2020 was raging. Sure, there is room for the comparison to Nero fiddling while Rome burns, but one literary analogy at a time people!!</span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8XJpRf_3g1xPbu3kkfnyR8rSh-ChRNvnFPXG3GO2vBsLk8q7c9avXug-P75PXl7RMDtv7dEr_5oOQ26tC6L6E6bYETIQOVE_EpyyRgbxsjeLY2Jd_4qNPvsytxKMWJeZ5nHrfk0EJvIfM/s495/340px-Alice_par_John_Tenniel_30.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="495" data-original-width="340" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8XJpRf_3g1xPbu3kkfnyR8rSh-ChRNvnFPXG3GO2vBsLk8q7c9avXug-P75PXl7RMDtv7dEr_5oOQ26tC6L6E6bYETIQOVE_EpyyRgbxsjeLY2Jd_4qNPvsytxKMWJeZ5nHrfk0EJvIfM/s320/340px-Alice_par_John_Tenniel_30.png" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Maybe flamingo clubs would help his game?</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Steve Bannon got banned from Twitter for saying âoff with his headâ about Dr. Fauci. Which seems a little too on the nose, but Bannon has never been known for his subtlety.</span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7LBbilENIan0cd7njyl5O9WEquyJtTJ49b6iakUV0LZx33_yTp7vmyKqIUNmArPE5VNQGcRmLADQFZq0fG4w7C67Zw4UIYsc6MOtd9EMQf40iWGXCbTISJEqJhevJ7L6f9HokAV2lKVFg/s318/images-9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="159" data-original-width="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7LBbilENIan0cd7njyl5O9WEquyJtTJ49b6iakUV0LZx33_yTp7vmyKqIUNmArPE5VNQGcRmLADQFZq0fG4w7C67Zw4UIYsc6MOtd9EMQf40iWGXCbTISJEqJhevJ7L6f9HokAV2lKVFg/s0/images-9.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">They kind of look similar too, on a bad day for the Queen</span></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Iâm not sure if this analogy means Iâve done too many drugs or that I need to do more drugs⌠I think both are true at the moment.</span></p>
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<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Lewis Carroll, it should be noted, was allegedly a bit of a Jeffrey Epstein of his day. No, he wasnât murdered⌠I mean the other Jeffrey Epstein thing, enabled by wealthy benefactors to continue his questionable relationship with children. And while Epstein didnât make it to 2020, his story was consumed along with many others as we sat on our couches with our âcuriosity.â Curiouser and curiouser. I mean, the Tiger King does sound like a character from the book that simply didnât make the final edit.</span></p>
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<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Interestingly enough Charles Dodgson, pen name Lewis Carroll, died from pneumonia following influenza⌠guys, he died from flu! </span></p>
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<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">And weâre all sitting here just like Alice, wondering when someone is going to wake us the f#$k up already!</span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdbcSbcuTMdo1q5fDkMef-z4pP5cCeTF8bsJ5WVLIjFFttNo_SAj8LjH8m869gyxU22blOwEh3trXmaxdS81usB6RfO_7VSb7JcsNxAu8xLA2pkjkq16RNXFjBOIvoF7LtZh7efaZGVg4c/s258/Unknown-8.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="195" data-original-width="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdbcSbcuTMdo1q5fDkMef-z4pP5cCeTF8bsJ5WVLIjFFttNo_SAj8LjH8m869gyxU22blOwEh3trXmaxdS81usB6RfO_7VSb7JcsNxAu8xLA2pkjkq16RNXFjBOIvoF7LtZh7efaZGVg4c/s0/Unknown-8.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">So wake me up when it's all over</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p>
<p style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">âSo many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, that Alice had begun to think that very few things indeed were really impossible.â - FAKE NEWS!</span></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho9cWL492AYEvd5qQQ6zwsTIs2TUoy3H9vAntCDb8Nat7M9ABesT-6WzX4svEyfJgxPMZHBNI86vttK10NXVQMYdpUD6bz0hOcJFE7uVjIydsOxJ-OzrHuSF4aQEY_VH_kB4DGIC2z3548/s275/Unknown-7.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho9cWL492AYEvd5qQQ6zwsTIs2TUoy3H9vAntCDb8Nat7M9ABesT-6WzX4svEyfJgxPMZHBNI86vttK10NXVQMYdpUD6bz0hOcJFE7uVjIydsOxJ-OzrHuSF4aQEY_VH_kB4DGIC2z3548/s0/Unknown-7.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">And that's just when I'm checking Twitter</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK6Y-DekSWvk2nWNCXaQ9-Ir0SeHckexDZuz674aq6N5eFUzzccsVyf2aBKDTl6vYp8cHziocZuCm0GCuvCMo-2obclx187YtfSaEMzGYmbZRPU8CxKf19dSmxn8L596kguTWqegVQJwwX/s259/images-10.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK6Y-DekSWvk2nWNCXaQ9-Ir0SeHckexDZuz674aq6N5eFUzzccsVyf2aBKDTl6vYp8cHziocZuCm0GCuvCMo-2obclx187YtfSaEMzGYmbZRPU8CxKf19dSmxn8L596kguTWqegVQJwwX/s0/images-10.jpeg" /></a></div><p></p>Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-16888875183313335822020-12-15T08:18:00.000-08:002020-12-15T08:18:39.149-08:002020 Ironic<span style="font-size: medium;">2020 has been a year. A wild, crazy ride of a year.</span><div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">So I made this.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div> <a href="https://youtu.be/F_EdPAyu2GM" target="_blank">2020 Ironic</a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoeDTXH5dDsGDaLfNQE4lZ4-zwXHxeIz9U8XnGM6Tq8VqbnbR3ULT7qbAizDoqohhLmrT72b6StectzaNXMpX1chY-BPbcWnpLsMSEwjZudduf3HdX4WeN2F6kJXHIBGapCdXd4InQuewn/s320/mqdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="320" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoeDTXH5dDsGDaLfNQE4lZ4-zwXHxeIz9U8XnGM6Tq8VqbnbR3ULT7qbAizDoqohhLmrT72b6StectzaNXMpX1chY-BPbcWnpLsMSEwjZudduf3HdX4WeN2F6kJXHIBGapCdXd4InQuewn/w400-h225/mqdefault.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://youtu.be/F_EdPAyu2GM">link here</a></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">If you like it, please feel free to share with someone you think might also like it.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Thank you for your support.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">We'll all get through this together.</span><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-75035312254767266432020-12-11T05:53:00.000-08:002020-12-11T05:53:00.541-08:00App-y Birthday!<p>Instagram celebrated its 10th birthday recently. Double digits!</p><p>As a mother about to celebrate her own child's double digit birthday, it's easy to see the social media apps as true representations of their ages. </p><p>Sometimes our real life kids require we stimulate our brains elsewhere, and for that, we are grateful to our surrogate children: social media apps. </p><p style="font-family: Times; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b>Twitter</b> is 14 and that makes perfect sense. Twitter is such a moody young teenager: over-emotional, picking fights over nothing. They say inappropriate things and then claim not to know better. They do one thing right and want you to celebrate that and overlook all the times they do nothing. And their algorithms (inner workings) are super confusing, change daily and are the key to their happiness and the happiness of those around them. They act like they don't want to be noticed, but all they want is for everyone to like them.</p><p style="font-family: Times; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b>Facebook</b> is 16, the even more moody, sh!ttier older sibling of Twitter. Facebook thinks they know everything, but really they're just repeating BS they've heard through a friend of a friend that isn't even true. They stir the pot and take no responsibility for the trouble they cause. They want to be both fully supported yet fully independent. They will claim moral integrity, but will actually do anything for money. Britney Spears sang she was ânot a girl, not yet a woman.â Facebook is not a technology platform, not yet officially a media monopoly. But congrats on destroying democracy... keepin' it đŻ </p><p style="font-family: Times; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b>Instagram</b> is the self-involved 10-year-old who thinks their entire life is worth sharing. Visually they have their act together. They are older, wiser and cleaner than their younger siblings, and younger, fitter and more pleasing than their adolescent siblings. They want to make you happy and will sometimes resort to cheap gimmicks to do so. If they do something for you, they want to be compensated. Your affection goes a long way, and the absence of it can be destructive.</p><p style="font-family: Times; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b>Pinterest</b> is the 10-year-old "artsy" one. They probably have undiagnosed OCD, which presents in their hyper-organized manner and attention to detail. They are the most creative and have great ideas, but aren't fun to be around because any deviation from their original perfection they deem a âFAIL.â They have the best birthday parties and their goodie bags are the stuff of legends.</p><p style="font-family: Times; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b>Snapchat</b> is 9. They always seem to have a lot of new, weird tricks that entertain for 5 minutes before they get boring. When they do something cool, you'll never see it again. </p><p style="font-family: Times; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b>TikTok</b> is the toddler sibling from dad's new girlfriend. Like most toddlers, TikTok takes mildly amusing things and repeats them over and over again until they're funny, and then until they're annoying. Fun to play with, but will suck you in for hours and report all your personal info back to their creator to be used against you at a later date. </p><p style="font-family: Times; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b>Only Fans</b> is the baby of the bunch. Thirsty, messy, dirty. Only for the true fan, most of us can't be bothered to look after it. Loves to take off their clothes... there are a lot of body parts and bodily functions on constant display.</p><p style="font-family: Times; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b>My Space</b> is the older sibling from a different marriage. They once seemed cool, but aren't around much anymore. Still out there, you will randomly hear about them once in a while. They have been fighting for relevance for over a decade, but will settle for acknowledgement that they were the original.</p><p style="font-family: Times; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b>LinkedIn</b> is of legal age now and considers themself the mature one. Networking is their whole life, and one day all that hard work will be worth it. Bore off!</p><p>A warning to parents: the more time you spend with these "children," the more you will ignore your own.</p><p>#blessed #parentlife #neverchange #hashtag #morehashtags #stillmorehashtags #whysomanyhashtags</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP-zP_oL5_HktorIXRUyQWpWNpNFADgmmES8uMkgIfFn6kPi8LC8BE_ckM5g4xUhZNwxOztxL30rP-agxZgzzLkw-WDCE9JwNq-2JQKAQ-aU_vgRnFshxBj3KhgR67jqXuPabkn9wM4HBS/s300/Unknown-29.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP-zP_oL5_HktorIXRUyQWpWNpNFADgmmES8uMkgIfFn6kPi8LC8BE_ckM5g4xUhZNwxOztxL30rP-agxZgzzLkw-WDCE9JwNq-2JQKAQ-aU_vgRnFshxBj3KhgR67jqXuPabkn9wM4HBS/w400-h224/Unknown-29.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13px;"><br /></p>Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-86976040257214489412020-08-18T09:43:00.005-07:002020-08-18T09:56:16.752-07:00Life, the universe, and everything<p>I just completed another trip around the sun. Not really a dazzling achievement, but one which I will reflect on in my own self-indulgent way.</p><p>They didn't used to be so exhausting, so physically draining, so emotionally consuming. In my defense, I was busy doing a lot more than simply "aging" this past year. </p><p>I read two books. That fact could be more embarrassing than the accomplishment it felt like given I have owned both books for well over a year. That is why my library card goes under-utilized... oh the fees! (and the funny smell of the pages). But I did it. Hurray for escaping into a good book. Now there are two more items in the piles of stuff around my house of things I am unsure what to do with. (yes, I will donate them eventually... four years, tops). </p><p>I was busy trying my best not to ruin my children for life. This was not necessarily a successful endeavor. Only time will tell, but I would guess it's nothing a few years of good therapy can't help. For the record, my "best" counts as what I have to give and I used most, if not all of it.</p><p>I was busy continuing my attempt to make the people around me laugh, and also widening that circle of people to include more strangers and members of the general public. Also not necessarily a successful endeavor, but for some reason continues to be fun. It makes me feel good more than it makes me feel bad, which is more than I can say about running. </p><p>Running, another thing I tried to do more of. Not exactly sure why, since my body does little in the way of tone and tighten these days, but for a few months those runs were all of the "me" time I got. Me time, more like meh time... ammiright??!!* (*example of jokes I tell in front of other people. To be clear, I said it's fun for me, I didn't say how anyone else felt about it).</p><p>I was busy baking treats and eating some truly lovely things. Baking is one of the many things I learned from my mother and one of the few things I have to give to my children. Pro tip: when you don't have the emotional fortitude to reckon with life's difficulties, kill some time making the house smell like butter and cinnamon and then bribe them with the sugary results.</p><p>Prior to the world shutting down, we went on a bunch of fantastic trips: England, Barcelona, Austin, England (again!), Park City, Maine. That list is either a pathetic attempt at a humble brag, or a partial list of things we can't do and won't be able to do again for the foreseeable future. Ah, good times. </p><p>For the past five months, I have traveled only in my mind. I have been a prisoner of my own lovely life. A life I was rather enjoying before the world turned upside down (yes, I've also been busy watching a lot of Hamilton). A life I have continued to enjoy at random intervals between the anxiety attacks, stress eating sessions, eliminating all contact with the outside world, re-engaging with the outside world, Netflix binges, suicidal ideations, Amazon sprees, guilt for the stress eating because so many people don't have enough to eat, home-schooling meltdowns (both mine and theirs), feeling like a prisoner in a very nice apartment, forgetting how to socialize, overwhelming concern for people I have never met, daydreaming about donuts, heightened sense of impending societal doom, and a few paper cuts thrown in for good measure (one while squeezing a lemon, which felt like the most accurate depiction of the exact moment in history it occurred in). </p><p>That has been the life on this most recent passage around the sun. </p><p>But there has also been love. Most notably the unbending and (at times shockingly) consistent love and support from the person who chose to spend his life with me, and whom I would have easily understood wanting to change that decision at any point, but for some reason doesn't. I feel loved which makes it possible for me to love. I love him more than I love donuts.</p><p>There has been light. In between temper tantrums and meltdowns and crying fits (mostly mine), my children have provided some levity. I have learned a lot. Mostly that they scream at each other a ton. My big takeaway is that I probably have the condition: misophonia and will simply have to learn to live in a constant state of anxiety around my own children... but I'm pretty sure that condition greatly overlaps with another condition known as parenthood, so I'll be fine. Sometimes I make them smile though, and it rights the ship and reminds me of my own capacity for love and why I love making people smile, specifically those two tiny people.</p><p>There has been laughter. Turns out I can make more than just my immediate family laugh. I can make my close friends laugh too. And in one of their words: "I thought it was going to be awkward and terrible, but you're actually pretty funny, kind of like a real comedian."</p><p>There has been family. Even though there hasn't been a lot of in-person time with our entire family recently, the connection is always felt. Together, we miss each other as if the act is enough to bring us together somehow, at least until we can be together again.</p><p>There have been great meals (and some sh!t ones too), but... so many meals shared and increased family time that I will choose to overlook that we probably relied on pasta a bit too much, and rather just focus on celebrating that we had that time. </p><p>Remember all those trips? A lot of fun times and great food with dear friends. Did I mention the laughter? Well, it is what has sustained me this year, and fortified me to enter the next one, so probably best to mention it again.</p><p>42: the answer to life, the universe and everything. It was. I think I get it. The answer is not actually knowing everything... it is simply knowing that. That is the answer because I feel the weight of it. All of it. The weight for myself, for my family, for my community, for my country, for the world, for humankind. The weight of not knowing what's going to come, what will become of our health, our livelihoods, our love, our laughter, our humanity, our empathy, our ability to care for one another, to see good in others and to bring out the best in each other.</p><p>I don't know what the next journey around the sun will bring. I will carry with me the things I loved about this past one and prioritize them above all else: above the noise, the drama, the pain. </p><p>Another year of life is cause to celebrate, so today I will celebrate. Tomorrow I will continue to search for ways to make it all a bit better, the way that the people I have let into my life make it all a bit better for me. At the very least I will continue to search for a way to help people smile while we tackle the undertaking of healing this world. All while continuing to search for good donuts.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOyGla6TTp6ZYlWgkEugtIG1XiKNcbO3SfiK1alXqqwn2nUXBmvrNVEaba3EI4qR2cW_S7hiqoJjzjOu97fBL6Kb_8CfQ189QOGzx7RT3tRWRkEgXi5E3Mp5ISAIZtllBjzN6jjSygNiKb/s2048/IMG_2827.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOyGla6TTp6ZYlWgkEugtIG1XiKNcbO3SfiK1alXqqwn2nUXBmvrNVEaba3EI4qR2cW_S7hiqoJjzjOu97fBL6Kb_8CfQ189QOGzx7RT3tRWRkEgXi5E3Mp5ISAIZtllBjzN6jjSygNiKb/w300-h400/IMG_2827.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise, sunset... <br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-75840425445145584912020-03-29T10:12:00.000-07:002020-03-29T10:12:04.229-07:00Whatcha doin?Hello friend! I hope this post finds you well, safe and secluded somewhere with an abundance of toilet paper and whatever essentials you need.<br />
<br />
First, an apology: I haven't been posting so much because I have been performing jokes live on stage for handfuls of people at a time. Fun, but that means I haven't been writing here regularly.<br />
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I don't want to neglect you, my true OG audience. However, transcribed jokes rarely work.<br />
So, what can I share with you?<br />
<br />
Well, I have been keeping myself busy in quarantine making videos with my friends and family.<br />
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Here's a video starring my kids, because they were the only cast I live with and could get last minute and free*.<br />
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<a href="https://youtu.be/XggtbfejlO0" target="_blank">A (lack of) Space Oddity</a><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a class="style-scope ytcp-video-metadata-info" href="https://youtu.be/XggtbfejlO0" style="color: var(--ytcp-link-color); font-family: Roboto, Noto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; white-space: nowrap;" target="_blank">https://youtu.be/XggtbfejlO0</a><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Please enjoy. Please stay home. Please stay safe. Please wash your hands. But most importantly, please stay home.<br />
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See you soon!<br />
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*They were well fed on set.Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-62672061207886822672019-04-27T18:51:00.000-07:002019-04-29T07:11:42.628-07:00The Crackers We DeserveI suppose we have no one to blame but ourselves.<br />
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First they came with the shrinking candy bar sizes, and <a href="https://www.missspartacus.com/2012/11/its-not-paranoia-or-is-it.html" target="_blank">I spoke out</a> because it wasn't just that my hands were getting bigger, the candy <i>was</i> getting smaller. King Size is a sham.<br />
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Then they came with the multiple sizes of rolls of toilet paper, and I spoke out, because it seemed egregious.<br />
4 titan rolls = 874 regular rolls... no one said there would be math.<br />
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Then they came with the chocolate diamonds, and I spoke out because they spent years teaching us brown diamonds were bad, but then needed to sell their brown diamonds. #Capitalism<br />
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Then they came with this nonsense:<br />
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And here we go again.<br />
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Cheez-It, in their delectable, addictive, cheesy way, have decided that the crackers that accidentally got left in the oven too long shouldn't be thrown away in some valiant quality-control move, but rather re-branded as the cracker we've all been waiting for. This nonsense has to end.<br />
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Don't get me wrong, I have the utmost respect for the marketing folks sitting around their conference table coming up with the words "Extra Toasty." They sleep fine at night. After all, it wasn't their decision to bring this product to market. Their job is to make people want to buy it, and they are just doing their job. But let's call a spade a spade. And let's call a burnt cracker a burnt cracker.<br />
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Please note: "#1 Requested Cheez-It Flavor" refers to nothing. Paul Hollywood and Mary Berry wouldn't sample the crunch of these cheesy delights and suggest additional bake time. There is no one out there eating a Cheez-It thinking to themselves, this could have done with another minute in the fryer.<br />
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To be honest, I don't even know the method by which Cheez-Its are created. Are they toasted, as the "extra" would suggest? Baked? Fried? Do they fall to Earth pre-packaged in all their crispy square glory and the "extra toasty" is a reference to global warming and the increasing effects of the sun's UV rays?<br />
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I don't have the answers. I only have questions. The main one being: do they really think we're dumb enough to fall for this?<br />
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*Checks state of the world*<br />
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Ah, um, I see. Well played Cheez-It.<br />
Nevermind.<br />
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<br />Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-27919138773761014642018-10-07T06:11:00.000-07:002018-10-09T10:18:42.315-07:00Annie are you OK?<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">As a parent in 2018, I have to teach my children that the world can be a soulless, spirit-crushing experience, particularly for women, people of color and those in the LGBTQIA community. But for one afternoon, I chose to avoid all of that by tuning out for a while and watching a movie together, a classic from my childhood. A movie about hope and love and the dawning of a new day because, the sun <i>will </i>come out tomorrow⌠or so I thought.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">This is the story about the afternoon I watched Annie with my daughter and realized that Annie, the original movie of my childhood, did not age well.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu1fUA6DWrfxRUboXBRU7UrQ-18n34cnFEdUBLK352IhCTq2vz6ksMEeP6fC7EHDrzSi4pet9H_RsqR8negFEMLu9R-QxURIm_x6w4febErhlfLPSTT6gqdQKP8Kkn3Glj6qU-jIRwb59d/s1600/515M0rQmBWL._SX342_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="365" data-original-width="342" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu1fUA6DWrfxRUboXBRU7UrQ-18n34cnFEdUBLK352IhCTq2vz6ksMEeP6fC7EHDrzSi4pet9H_RsqR8negFEMLu9R-QxURIm_x6w4febErhlfLPSTT6gqdQKP8Kkn3Glj6qU-jIRwb59d/s320/515M0rQmBWL._SX342_.jpg" width="299" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Open on Annie singing about parents she doesnât have: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">âMom, where are her parents?â</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">âShe doesnât have any.â </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">âWhy doesnât she have parents?â </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">âCause sheâs an orphan.â </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">âWhatâs an orphan?â</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Any fellow parent will tell you, when we put on the TV or a movie, we do so because we donât want to âwork.â We arenât looking for teachable moments or engaging in character forming conversations. We want 90 minutes to zone out and possibly doze off. Not even five minutes in and I know Iâm in trouble here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Back to the filthy children living together in an orphanage, being beaten and doing manual labor. Ok, this actually could work in my favor. Maybe the next time I ask her to make her bed, sheâll be more grateful thatâs all Iâm requesting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Enter Miss Hannigan and having to explain the antics and behaviors of a functioning alcoholic. This is truly going to be a fun afternoon together.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Miss Hannigan propositioning Mister Bundles wasnât something I vividly recalled from my childhood viewings, but my daughter doesnât look like she will forget it as she shrinks a little into the couch next to me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Enough of the child abuse, for now⌠how about a little animal abuse for the folks at home. Enter Sandy being abused by some neighborhood scamps. And then a song about Sandy being dumb, cause hey, we called people dumb back then and it was fine. To my daughter, it was the equivalent of Annie calling Sandy a mother f#cker. We donât throw dumb around in the same way in our house and she seems shook. Note to self: definitely not ready for Old Yeller.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Back to the orphanage. Iâm concerned that Miss Grace Farrell doesnât seem at all concerned by Annie being locked in a closet. A quick tug-of-war with Annie as the rope ends with them headed to the Warbucks mansion, so I guess that bit of physicality is OK?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Enter Punjab and the Asp, the bodyguards of Oliver Warbucks, and two distinct, offensive cultural stereotypes personified. First, Punjab is an offensive name. Second, heâs played by a Trinidadian man. Third, he seems to possess magical powers that I canât put my finger on, but seem problematic on their own. But he tamed Sandy, so everyone seems cool with it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Oh, Annie thinks sheâs being brought in as free labor (read: a slave) ha ha ha! Thatâs funny to everyone. Slavery: making people laugh since the Depression. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Oliver Warbucks returns home with some gems I look forward to explaining later: âeverythingâs urgent to a Democratâ âorphans are boysâ and his rage-throwing of the photographerâs camera. I think my petty slamming of cabinet doors when Iâm angry is looking good in comparison. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Annie manages to charm the old man and gets to stay. Iâve always been impressed by her street smarts and still am. Not every part of this aged poorly. The teachable moment could be: men can usually be manipulated; but really it is: take that rage-throwing of a camera as a red flag and GTFO.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Back to the orphanage where we get a few more talking points for later during the song âLittle Girls.â âIf I wring little necks, surely I would get an acquittalâ is not only an incredible rhyme for the word little, but also a sentence rich with disturbing concepts for a 7-year-old. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Back to the mansion where a bomb comes crashing through the window. A chance to explain: amateur explosives, the Bolsheviks, and the Asp doing some heavily choreographed, and potentially insensitive faux martial arts. Itâs not my culture, I canât speak to it, but it feels bad.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Ok, here we go. <i>Letâs go to the movies</i>! I loved this part. The singing, the dancing, the part where Annie sits on the top of the convertible on their journey from 987 Fifth Avenue to Radio City⌠not exactly around the corner. I know they didnât have booster seats back then, but a seat belt, or even just within the interior of the car? It makes my insistence on her booster seat seem ridiculous and I see her making a mental note. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Going to the movies back then was quite the night out. Not necessarily a night filled with diversity, as the Rockettes lineup illustrates, but still quite spectacular. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">As if one movie with physical and emotional abuse wasnât enough, theyâve managed to insert a second movie rife with issues for me to deal with. Bonus! The movie within the movie is too much, but thankfully the black and white format has disengaged her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Back to the real movie and the mansion and some new topics to explore, like misogyny and power dynamics. Oliver Warbucks to <i>Miss </i>(lest we forget sheâs a bachelorette) Grace Farrell: âYouâre awfully pretty when you argue with me.â Followed quickly by this gem of an exchange:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">OW: âYour teeth are crookedâ</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Grace Farrell: âIâll have them fixed.â</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">OW: âI like them.â</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">GF: âIâll leave them.â</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">But I have no time to explain why our looks should neither define us nor be changed in an attempt to gain the approval of others because weâre on to our next musical number: âWe Got Annie.â And <i>we</i> got an awkward musical dance solo for both Punjab and The Asp. Not just an exaggeration of their racial and cultural stereotypes, the music played over each is offensive in its own right.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Annie and Mr. Warbucks have a âman to man talkâ where Warbucks shares his life story⌠spoiler alert: itâs dark AF.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Non sequitor, as this isnât really problematic in our current landscape, but I canât help thinking that a ventriloquist on a radio show is a strange talent choice. She doesnât need to keep her mouth still for radio, does she? Plus, 30 years later and I still donât know what Annie is doing when she goes for Burt Heeleyâs shoes. But I digress.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Ok, back to the oversized themes for us to discuss: Republicans, The New Deal, helping people work for themselves⌠Actually, the FDR bit is still pretty relevant, just not necessary for a 7-year-old to sink her teeth into.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">I had trouble with Tim Curry for a while and I realize this role was why. He messed me up early and it took me until Clue to get over it. By the time I realized he was Dr. Frank N Furter all was forgiven. But Rooster was scarring. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Lily smoking in the orphanage, stealing from Miss Hannigan and lying to Mr. Warbucks⌠I remember all these âbad thingsâ from my youthful viewings. Rooster knocking Miss Hannigan out, screaming âcome back here you g-ddamn kid,â and then legit throwing Annie off the bridge were âbad thingsâ I remembered, but saw, as if for the first time, through my daughterâs (horrified) eyes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Punjab popping off his turban seems wrong, but I donât think Iâm qualified to write that think piece. I did chuckle at the irony of him quoting Buddha right before he kicks Rooster in the face, knocking him down the ladder. Youâre dark Annie, but I love ya!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">So, in summary, Miss Hannigan gets knocked out and gets to ride in on an elephant for the finale, with some visible sexual tension with Punjab I never noticed before. Is it getting hot in here or is it just this newly sympathetic alcoholic on an elephant?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Even the line: âI love you Daddy Warbucksâ gave me the creeps this time. But thatâs just me applying more modern connotations. This movie cannot handle that on top of everything else and it is the least of my concerns after watching the whole thing through.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">My original memories from watching Annie as a child: great songs, fun, kid-friendly, classic all around.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">My current thoughts from watching Annie as an adult with my own child: great songs but problematic all around.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">I had never understood remaking a great movie, a la Footloose or Overboard, but maybe the occasional re-make is a good thing. Iâm obviously not talking about Johnny Deppâs Willy Wonka. That will never be OK.</span></div>
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Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-22417420571139046202018-01-03T11:31:00.000-08:002018-01-03T12:23:16.271-08:00What in the who now?I am a creature of habit. Anyone who has read this blog can confirm: I like summer in Maine, autumn eating Halloween candy and winter complaining about the weather. See <a href="http://www.missspartacus.com/2014/03/should-we-talk-about-weather.html" target="_blank">here</a>; <a href="http://www.missspartacus.com/2015/04/ducking-done.html" target="_blank">here</a>; and <a href="http://www.missspartacus.com/2016/09/slight-chance-of-rain.html" target="_blank">here</a> for proof of that last one.<br />
<br />
And just when I think I've bored myself silly of weather chatter, they go and do it again.<br />
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It freaked me out four years ago when they introduced the name, if not the outright concept, of the polar vortex. Seemingly out of nowhere everyone started talking about polar vortexes as if they were a common, well-known thing. How do they just invent these new freakily scary names for weather conditions each year? And why do we allow it?<br />
They are Sharknado-ing us, and we are letting it happen.<br />
<br />
I thought we had seen the worst of it, but then today my phone screen lit up with the phrase:<br />
"bomb cyclone."<br />
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<br />
Fuck you.<br />
<br />
No thank you. I have no room in my life for bomb cyclones, unless they're some shitty frozen beverage I drink on an all-inclusive holiday somewhere warm.<br />
<br />
Keep it (thank you Ira Madison III). I am not taking this on (thank you June Diane Raphael). Whatever a bomb cyclone is, which, come to think of it, what the fuck is a bomb cyclone? And why are they now a thing? And are they kidding me with that name? What, was atomic death spiral taken? A bomb cyclone is neither a bomb nor a cyclone, discuss (thank you Mike Meyers).<br />
<br />
Enough of this weather fuckery. It's cold as hell outside and that's all we should have to worry about. Nuclear annihilation is already on my plate because of the Dotard (thank you KJ-U). Avoiding frostbite is already something I'm focused on, on a daily basis. I do not need to concern myself with whatever the fuck a bomb cyclone is, and neither do you. This is just another way they distract us from important shit.<br />
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Do not let the bomb cyclone get to you friends. There's a bad winter storm coming. Keep your eyes open, your hats on, and for the love of love zip your jackets all the way up.<br />
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Stay warm.<br />
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Happy new year.<br />
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Resist.<br />
<br />Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-68831086976232343492017-08-16T21:08:00.001-07:002017-08-16T21:14:13.015-07:00Old AF<div>On the eve of my 40th, five years after starting this blog as a creative outlet for my satirical rants, I find myself checking in to see where I'm at.</div><div><br></div><div>I'm old. I'm actually old AF. So old that I say AF IRL. And while that is probably embarrassing, I DGAF. Something nice happened after 40 years. The confidence I so desperately lacked in middle school, high school, college, post college, the ghost years and beyond, arrived eventually. I am now blessed with some of that old person confidence, and in addition to saying batty things to school age children, I am also able to write and perform with my sole interest being my own happiness. Old person confidence results in ladies arguing with the deli that the turkey is not sliced thin enough or old men sending their soup back because it was too salty. For some it is an affirmation of their firmly rooted beliefs, for some a general acceptance of who they've slowly become, and for others it is the ability to say and do things they maybe once found terrifying or daunting for fear of offending, disappointing, or merely failing to entertain.</div><div>And on the eve of 40 (and here's where the offense comes in) I have managed to create a life that I am genuinely happy with.</div><div><br></div><div>In 40 years you learn things.</div><div>I have learned that I don't have regrets. I have things that I recognize I could have done different, but firmly accept that everything I have done has led me to today. The good, the bad, the tears, fights, moments of weakness, moments of strength, laughter, joy, difficulty has all made my life what it was, what it is today and that only I get to decide what it will be tomorrow. </div><div>I don't have regrets, but I do have a few tips for myself that might have made some parts a bit easier.</div><div><br></div><div>I should have appreciated being pushed around in a stroller more. My kids are unappreciative of the amazing thing that is a free ride while being fed snacks and taken to fun places. My next shot at being pushed around while I talk nonsense and occasionally shit my pants comes way too late in the game. I would like that free ride now, in the middle, when my tired self can really appreciate it.</div><div><br></div><div>Now it seems silly, but a quick note to my ten year old self to tell her we all get pubic hair could have stemmed a bit of panic back then. Cause as the first of my friends, I'm not gonna lie, I was pretty freaked out right at the onset. </div><div><br></div><div>I'd go back to my teenage self and tell her that no, the boys you crush on and pine for will never love you. You are a swan who will take another 20 years to peak, and then another five years after that to realize you've peaked. But, not to be sad about those boys because one day you will get to watch them grow bald, fat and old on a yet to be invented social media platform on a yet to be invented internet. And while it seems no one will ever love you now, #itgetsbetter</div><div><br></div><div>I'd go back to college and see myself skipping class to hang with my friends, eat bad food and watch cartoons and say: yes! Keep it up. These are wonderful years that you are experiencing in the best way possible. You're not a scholar and when you do want to learn more later in life, you'll just be able to pull your personal phone out of your pocket and ask an electronic woman for more information on it. We're all Jetsons in the future, and tonight is probably ladies night somewhere. </div><div><br></div><div>I'd go back to my drunk self in her early 20s and make her say a little prayer of thanks that easily accessible and portable cameras are still a few years out, and while it's sad to only have 24 or 36 photos from most significant life events, you also don't have 150 photos from very insignificant events to constantly haunt you the rest of your life.</div><div><br></div><div>I'd check in with my single self and tell her that 25 is exactly when you should be learning about yourself. You might not ever have it all figured out. But the hyper emotional journals you are currently writing will provide hours of shocked amusement when you reread them 15 years from now. Take it down a notch kid!</div><div><br></div><div>And when those cameras do start appearing everywhere, I'd remind my aging young lady self to tell the camera person to shoot from above and to always put your hand on your hip when you're on the end. Fat arms affect all of us.</div><div><br></div><div>I would point out to my single self that yes, married life is about getting to be with your best friend all the time, but that sometimes being with your best friend involves both of you sitting on your phones until one of you decides to engage with the other who is still on their phone and then getting annoyed at how rude your best friend can be sometimes.</div><div><br></div><div>I'd remind my newly married self that in the talks about where to live and how many kids to have and how to raise them there will be trickier conversations about underwear and when they're ok to be put in the communal laundry and when they must be washed separately.</div><div><br></div><div>I'd tell my kidless self that it's not ok to judge the parents you see for giving their kids popsicles at 11am. Because one day you're going to see another parent with kids with lollipops before 9am, and you're going to silently acknowledge the day they've already had with a sympathetic nod and a moment of gratitude that thankfully you haven't had one of "those" mornings in a while.</div><div><br></div><div>I'd point out to my new parent exhausted ass that you don't need to pretend like you've got this. You don't have to appear to be doing everything perfectly. In fact, the other parents hate the ones doing it perfectly. We like the ones who are fucking it up like we are. There's something very comforting about knowing the entire next generation is fucked, not just our kids.</div><div><br></div><div>I'd tell myself that my kids will remember my emotional outbursts, inappropriate comments and cursing. And hopefully they will learn to control their outbursts, make appropriate comments and curse, in the right context... eventually. We don't need them dropping c-bombs in nursery school.</div><div><br></div><div>I'd sit myself down, on the eve of 40 and say you've done ok. </div><div>You've made some friends that are accepting of not being in constant contact because when we are together, it is like no time has passed. </div><div>You've fucked some shit up. </div><div>You've lost touch with people that should be in your life and gave too much time to people that should have been dismissed sooner. </div><div>You've had nights that you can't remember and that's too bad and you've had nights you can't remember and that's for the best. </div><div>You've lost your temper when you should have kept your cool and you've held in your rage when you should have rained hell on people. </div><div>You've set an example for your kids that includes the nuances and complexities of what life is. You express anger, hurt, fear and sadness, but also teach them how to be compassionate, kind, friendly and fun. </div><div>You eat a lot of donuts. You also go for the occasional run and drink a cup of green tea every now and again. </div><div>You eat a few more donuts, but then justify a family dance party in the name of fitness. </div><div>Your varicose veins are bad, but you realize a smile on your face is all you need to look your best. And mascara.</div><div>You laugh a lot. </div><div>You make other people laugh. </div><div>You make your kids laugh. </div><div>Some people you will never make laugh.</div><div>On the eve of 40 you're doing ok, which is actually pretty good. And pretty good makes you happy.</div><div><br></div><div>Oh, and don't worry about all the stuff you haven't done yet. You're not done yet. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ8nYq6GzbiLi94WNNJcbNTK30KFfkOFuUCuCSWh4lRHc7ai4AowE5VivwXlON6NpAMdiEXRO6K-Y6ByDENrfuYkHUD_fsiOM_5VuawlMqPVUL3g0Y38dtMHre7jT6PSJ8C12d_JEFY8EC/s640/blogger-image-1013084478.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ8nYq6GzbiLi94WNNJcbNTK30KFfkOFuUCuCSWh4lRHc7ai4AowE5VivwXlON6NpAMdiEXRO6K-Y6ByDENrfuYkHUD_fsiOM_5VuawlMqPVUL3g0Y38dtMHre7jT6PSJ8C12d_JEFY8EC/s640/blogger-image-1013084478.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-764172572162227803.post-65295934500501114562017-03-27T19:17:00.001-07:002017-03-27T19:17:33.911-07:00Surprise let downMaybe you've seen the videos: children being told by their tricky, secretive parents that they are about to embark on the trip of a lifetime - Disney! The reactions vary from screaming, jumping and other forms of physically elating to tears of joy sobbing from within their tiny emotional frames. Maybe you haven't seen them. I have. And because I have, I decided that surprising my children would be an amazing way to tell them we are going to Disney. We'd laugh, we'd cry, we'd tape it all for a viral sensation.<br />
<br />
Enter reality.<br />
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Our surprise was going to be the day before we left as I, like many other parents, have no interest in prolonging the agony of waiting for my kids (read: I didn't want to spend weeks answering the question "are we going yet?").<br />
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They didn't know about it, but for weeks I was deep in planning mode. Every free moment typically spent mindlessly browsing my phone or watching TV I spent researching hotels, restaurants and age appropriate attractions; booking fast passes, double strollers and reservations for character experiences; and looking up packing lists and best food lists (obviously), all while sharing none of this excitement with the kids, because, after all, it was a surprise worth waiting for.<br />
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I spent weeks, nay, months, talking to other parents and Disney planners and everyone who had ever known someone that went on this trip to get tips, tricks and suggestions, not-to-be-missed meals and timing tips for where we needed to be and when. The list went on, the planning went on, and still I said nothing to the children.<br />
<br />
Ah, the children. The sweet, adorable, well behaved children that deserved all of this planning on their behalf, but who would never know the extent to which their occasional whining and spatting was jeopardizing the very trip they knew nothing about.<br />
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The more time I spent planning, the more disgruntled I became at their every slight misbehavior. I use candy on a weekly basis to get them to behave. So why now, for some reason, had I knowingly given up on using the greatest bargaining chip that ever existed for my benefit?<br />
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To illustrate my point: my daughter once graciously and willingly went to bed a full hour early because she was going to an ice skating birthday party the following day, which she was very excited about. Can you imagine how excited she would be if she knew we were going to Disney? I'll tell you: very, very excited. Can you imagine how well behaved she could be if she knew about it? I'll venture a guess: very, very well behaved. Can you imagine all the sh!t I could get the kids to do if I used Disney, the greatest thing ever, as a goal or reward for them to work towards? Well I can, because I imagined it every day. Every day as I stayed silent while the little one pulled the big one's hair or the big one swiped a leg as the little one walked by, I grumbled under my breath that they needed to behave if they wanted "something great." But you know what kids think of when they hear the phrase "something great"? Not something great. Certainly not the greatest damn thing they could possibly imagine. And most definitely not Disney.<br />
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But it will be the greatest surprise ever, I reminded myself. I can't tell them. But you could be bribing them with it every day, I responded to myself. But then we won't get the "surprise" video. It will be worth it. In the words of Lin Manuel's Hamilton: "just you wait, just you wait." (yes, not only do I talk to myself, but I very often do so while quoting popular music)<br />
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So wait we did. Through countless dragged feet down the street and uneaten side dishes. Over crying fits about taking baths and screaming matches for the small rubber duck, not the ever so slightly larger one. We waited for the big day, the big reveal, the big surprise. Finally, after packing us all up in secret and with the arrangements all made, it was time to tell them.<br />
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The night before we left, I packed up their Disney packets of ear headbands, autograph books, pens and lanyards and handed them the gift bag. Inside was this note:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitjA_wxvOkYHHtQMyEb86qeZACJhT1I-VrMKgacUIajAyTAtFujY8Z8UKYYTLAs40QQHxIFjHLMr3nn_DCRmF6QItpVKkGvB88TXd2cUwXZG-U8iscwtsyUx3ZPWOop0SKUMRvou0GEuHm/s1600/IMG_5419.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitjA_wxvOkYHHtQMyEb86qeZACJhT1I-VrMKgacUIajAyTAtFujY8Z8UKYYTLAs40QQHxIFjHLMr3nn_DCRmF6QItpVKkGvB88TXd2cUwXZG-U8iscwtsyUx3ZPWOop0SKUMRvou0GEuHm/s320/IMG_5419.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ok, so I'm not a graphic designer</td></tr>
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I was buzzing with the excitement. I couldn't stand it anymore. I was about to burst. So we whipped out our phones and shot a video while they opened it. It's a minute:19, but I'll save you that time and get the gist in this clip right here...<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxoRPI5ME1TCn1bYRTjsDjlXmsdRde2F7qxyaP7plyOET2zuDzLTClg_hjKIIH2UYd0MX2YNMVN1ZJoUCVU6w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
It's OK. It's nice, sweet even. But I had kind of been hoping for mind-blown screams. I like to think they were in shock. So we doubled back to make sure they got it.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzah7k1GR9OEODrYyJsD1ySQRrnpcSOp5_1Uix1j-K8Xa_HmU3jlg6In4KARHV_N5FamuePrkUuNyu3iFpk' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Got it mom. You're just not getting your GIF-worthy video.<br />
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Now, in their defense, they are not ungrateful children. They are 5+ and 2+ and lack the basic mental capacity to process information in the immediate, hey-guys-I'm-shooting-the-video-right-this-second rate I was hoping for. In fact, the little guy never truly knows where we're going, so to a certain extent, every day is a surprise to him. Over the course of the evening, my daughter slowly came to grasp both the magnitude and immediacy of the journey that awaited. Weirdly, the piece of the puzzle that made it click for her was that Disneyworld is in Orlando, as they advertise Orlando on TV, not just Disney, so that information brought this thing into a whole new light for her and she went to bed buzzing the same hum of excitement that I had. The trip to the airport and every minute of the trip were equally enthusiastic, happy, grateful and appreciative.<br />
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But that video.<br />
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In hindsight, I realize that I failed to follow my own advice. When I was pregnant, we found out the gender of our baby as we viewed that as an additional day of a surprise since the actual birth day was exciting for many other reasons. The actual trip to Disney is so exciting, we should have brought the surprise up a few weeks to spread out the joy, but mostly to be able to bribe my children for weeks with the promise of the greatest trip ever. Live and learn. I now know that the true magic of Disney is using it as the best damn bargaining chip there is, threatening to take it away if they call out one more time in the middle of the night or don't take at least two more bites of carrots. I know that now, and can only say to others: do what you feel in your heart is right. Do what you think will be best for your children. But most importantly, do a better job than I did managing your expectations for that damn video.Miss Spartacushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15583812037635676403noreply@blogger.com4