Made of Win (Omnivore Style)

If I were a dinosaur, I think that I'd have giant arms, unlike the wimpy T-Rex, for the purpose of hoisting all those many, many pounds of awesome pork products to my face.

National Healthcare: You First

I have only one request of every politician in the United States re: national healthcare:

You first.

This means that you will have to follow all of the regulations and requirements that you create for the rest of us. No favors, special consideration, or other goodies, either: you should be treated exactly how you intend for the rest of us to be treated. That’s only fair, after all.

If your ideas are good, then you and your families will benefit from your creation, just as we will. If your ideas suck, then you’ll have to wallow in the filth that you shoved down our throats. Either way, you should be active participants. If your plans are good enough for ordinary citizens, then they’re good enough for you as well.

Things Mom Does Better Than I Ever Will

Mom has this aggravating habit of being better than I am at, well, everything. Except, maybe, blogging, but only because she doesn’t have a blog. Now that I’ve written that, she’ll probably go get a blog, come into my bedroom, and force me to add her to my blogroll at fingernail point. (Seriously – she has these wickedly-sharp fingernails. Just waving them within five inches of my face is enough to make me do pretty much anything she wants.)

Scrabble
I was eleven or twelve when Mom brought home a brand-new Scrabble board and asked if I wanted to learn how to play. She explained the basic concept of the game, then slapped a fake-wood rack down in front of me and told me to draw seven tiles. While she chain smoked – and, by the way, got cigarette ashes all over the board, which is totally like just about every other activity we did together when I was growing up – I tried to figure out what I was going to do with a rack full of vowels. Seriously: How do you make a word with E-I-E-I-O-U-U? (Keep in mind that I wasn’t even a teenager at the time and, therefore, did not see diddly squat in that rack. Actually? I still don’t. Because, despite lots of Scrabble playing over the years, I still kind of suck at this game.)

I tried “Oui.”

“That’s, uh, French or something," I said when Mom raised her eyebrows into her hairline.

“We’re Americans. Use a real word.”

“But it IS a real word.”

“Not in this country it isn’t.”

Oh, and she didn’t tell me that I could exchange tiles. Oh, no. She sprang that on me a few plays later, when she said, “Exchange four,” and neglected to put down a word.

“Hey! You can do that?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said, in her, “If I were being any more sarcastic, the awesomeness of my sheer talent would melt your preadolescent face,” tone.

“You never said anything about trading tiles.”

“Well, now you know.”

Soon, it became very obvious that Mom had no intention of going easy on me. She had never, in my life, soft pedaled where games were concerned. You either beat her fair and square or lost. Why? Because she didn’t want to insult you, that’s why. The one time I kicked her butt at chess, I knew that I had earned the victory. And believe me, legitimately beating up your Mom’s chess pieces is way cooler than winning because she threw the match.

While I stuck to the few words that I actually knew back then, Mom let loose all of the words that she’d picked up over the decades. I was playing crap like “kick” and “forge,” while she was laying down epics like “ballooning” and “xylophone.” The final score was…well…lopsided at best, considering that she had three digits to my two.

This butt stomping continued throughout my teen years. Even though my vocabulary kept growing, and even though I eventually found enough brains to read the “Q without U words” suggestions printed on the inside of the Scrabble box’s lid, Mom kept improving her game at the same time. She laid down things that couldn’t possibly be real words. “Ti”? What was that? (A tree, or something, apparently. And really a word, at least according to the folks who produce the Scrabble dictionary.)

Even now, I can whip up on her only when she has a migraine. And that’s because I challenge the gibberish that she lays down. Sorry, but “aaoiuer” isn’t a word, at least not in English.

The nice thing about Mom, though, is that she’s a gracious winner. The phrase, “In your FACE, weenie child o’ mine!” has escaped her mouth only once, and that was only because we were wagering on the game's outcome. (I had to do dishes because she whipped up on me. Had I won, she would have given me...fifty cents.)

Sorry, Folks

I know that I've been neglecting the ol' blog, and I'm really sorry for that. Life has been, well, busy lately.

The family and I took a road trip to visit Grandma earlier this week. She's in what's called a "mind-care" facility, which is a polite way of saying that Grandma, and the other residents, have Alzheimer's. We can't utter that nasty A-word, though, because it terrifies those of us who know what it really means. Including Grandma, who still has good days - and, during these periods, knows what's been, and what's coming, because she saw her own mother, who also had Alzheimer's.

What really bothers me - aside from the fear, that is - is the shame that surrounds this disease. Grandma knew, YEARS AGO, that she had Alzheimer's...but nobody in the family discovered this fact until recently (within the last couple of years, I believe). Having seen her own mom suffer the same disease, Grandma was ashamed of what she knew was going to happen in the future. She didn't want any of us to know. I don't blame her, because I'm sure that I would want to have some semblance of control if I were in her position. Maybe keeping the secret was all that she knew to do.

But I AM ticked off that anyone on this planet would, for even a nanosecond, be ashamed of something that isn't his or her fault. It's not like Alzheimer's is your punishment for whaling on your kid, or drinking a jug of moonshine and mowing down pedestrians with your F350. There's a massive difference between being a tool and being sick.

Grandma enjoyed having us around, though, which is awesome. We got to just sit and talk, and listen, to each other. In addition to Mom, most of my sibs, and myself, two of my aunts were there, along with Kid Sis' boyfriend. So, yeah, there was a nice little group at the facility for a few hours. Grandma seemed to enjoy herself, even if she couldn't quite remember most of us. We reintroduced ourselves every so often, and that was that.

Stuff That Rocks

And now, another installment of Stuff That Rocks - because I've come across some stuff that's made of win lately.

First and foremost: it looks like "Futurama" is coming back. Fo' real. Comedy Central, you are awesome. But not as awesome as Bender. Close, though.

Next up: Khan Academy. An MIT graduate (math degree - shocking, I know...oh, and he's done other stuff, too) decided that he wanted to teach various mathematical and financial concepts to as many people as possible. So, he set up this Web site, which is full of YouTube videos that show you how to solve all sorts of math problems. I'm currently working my way through the concepts that will be on this math-placement test my school's making me take before allowing me to sign up for the "Math for people who aren't at this university to do diddly squat with any sort of math, but have to take two math classes anyway" class. Why? Because I haven't taken a math class in a few years, and have no idea of what I'm doing. The Khan Academy Web site has been, to say the least, insanely helpful.

And now, we're on entry number three: Phil Frickin' Ivey. (No spoiler alert because the tourney I'm about to talk about isn't going to be televised.) Phil Frickin' Ivey, man, in the No-limit 2-7 WSOP event...utterly amazing. And 2-7 Lowball isn't even "his" event, which makes the utter ownage even better.

I Love Emo Kids SO Much Now

No, not really. But this video by Shane Dawson is one of the most hilarious things YouTube's ever hosted. (Psst! Watch out - a bit o' the ol' rough language ahead!)

Poker Players' Money Seized

Yesterday was not a good day for Americans who play poker on the Internet. I'm unhappy, to say the very least, about this whole "Let's take their money - without a warrant, no less! Because we're the feds!" crap.

The Poker Players Alliance has released a statement explaining what in the world is going on:

[NY] PPA Statement on Southern District of NY Action Against Online Poker Players - PPA (06/09/09)

Publish at Scribd or explore others: Law & Government Business & Law poker pokerplayersalliance

Chiropractors Rock

I saw a chiropractor yesterday for my skull thumpers. As it turns out, one of the vertebrae in my neck was wayyyyy out of place. The chiro managed to pop it back without hurting me or popping off my head, so I would call yesterday's visit a success. Oh, and my headache went away for a while, which was impressive because that sucker had been hanging around for a few days straight by the time I staggered into this guy's office.

Oh, and one visit costs less than a month's worth of the migraine meds. Gee. If this guy can help me out, I'll be saving money *and* avoiding drugs. I'm not seeing a downside so far.

Of course, I reserve the right to come back and gripe later. I have a second appointment tomorrow afternoon. If my head pops off or something, I just might change my mind about this chiropractor thing.