Have a safe Memorial Day, everyone.
Thank you to the service members, and their families, for everything that you've done, and are doing, on our behalf. This year, like last year, my family and I putting pork on our beans, and we're grateful for the freedom to do that kind of thing.
Happy Mother's Day to all of the moms out there, especially my own.
Ahh, Mom. What can you say about her that won't get you slapped upside the head with a cast-iron frying pan? Would it really be Mother's Day here at my house without the distinctive BONG! that my sibs and I know and love? Of course not.
She whips up on me at Scrabble 99.999 percent of the time, sure. (The rest of the time, she has a migraine, so I win by challenging words like "aqwoer" and "paweroi.") Sometimes, her evilness scares me - like when she realized that she could just dump the corpses of those who anger her into the septic tank instead of making the effort to dig a shallow grave. And every now and then, she takes the very-last piece of chocolate in the entire house.
But those things just make her even more awesome.
So, Mom, Happy Mother's Day. 
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Oops. I only just now realized that today was Earth Day. Shows how much I care, right? Right.
But you know, it's never the wrong day to do something that's good for the environment, like purchase compact fluorescent light bulbs for your home unnecessarily expose yourself, and landfills, to mercury.
Have a wonderful Good Friday and Easter, everyone. I'm slightly disappointed because Mom renewed the Peep Control Act of 2006 for yet another year. Sigh. Just because I brought home twelve boxes of Peeps the day after Easter ONE time...and just because half of those Peeps were still festering in her cupboard when I brought home a buttload of Halloween Peeps...well...that doesn't give her the right to ban them, does it? Apparently, it does.
Oh, well. I'll just have to enjoy my sickly-sweet, pure-sugar treats vicariously...as usual:
Spring Break started (for me, that is) today. I'm officially off school until the Tuesday after next. Woohoo!
Unfortunately, my Mom doesn't quite understand this yearly holiday.
Mom: Oh, so you're on Spring Break now?
Me: YESSSSSS! (Awkward, but jubilant, dancing.)
Mom: Good. You can help me with the cleaning.
Me: No. It's Spring Break, not Spring Cleaning.
Mom: No. It's Spring Break from school. You can still help me around the house.
Me: BREAK.
Mom: Yes. Break from SCHOOL.
We're both speaking English, but I don't think that we're both having the same conversation.
Today, we have a graph-by-graph snarkfest, courtesy of a group of parents who don't understand what "No" means - much less how to teach this concept to their offspring.
Meltdown fallout: some parents rethink toy-buying
By DAVID CRARY, AP National Writer
NEW YORK – In a season that inspires earnest letters about toys, one notable batch is being sent not by kids to Santa's workshop but by parents to the executive suites of real-world toy makers.
The letter-writing initiative was launched by the Boston-based Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood, which says roughly 1,400 of its members and supporters have contacted 24 leading toy companies and retailers to express concern about ads aimed at kids.
"Unfortunately, I will not be able to purchase many of the toys that my sons have asked for; we simply don't have the money," wrote Todd Helmkamp of Hudson, Ind. "By bombarding them with advertisements ... you are placing parents like me in the unenviable position of having to tell our children that we can't afford the toys you promote."
The Toy Industry Association has responded with a firm defense of current marketing practices, asserting that children "are a vital part of the gift selection process."
"If children are not aware of what is new and available, how will they be able to tell their families what their preferences are?" an industry statement said. "While there is certainly greater economic disturbance going on now, families have always faced different levels of economic well-being and have managed to tailor their spending to their means."
In recent conference calls with investors, toy company executives said they expect to suffer some holiday-season impact from the economic crisis, yet suggested their industry would be more resilient than many other sectors. The toy industry is commonly viewed as recession-resistant, due largely to the parent-child dynamic.
"Parents have trouble saying no," said Allison Pugh, a University of Virginia sociology professor. She says parents often buy toys to avoid guilt and ensure their children feel in sync with school classmates.
"Even under circumstances of dire financial straits, that's the last thing parents give up," said Pugh. "They'll contain their own buying for themselves before they'll make their child feel different at school."
Amanda Almodovar says she encounters such families in her work as an elementary school social worker in Alamance County, N.C., where homelessness and unemployment are rising.
"I had one parent who said she'd prostitute herself to get what her child wants," Almodovar said. "It's heartbreaking. They feel inadequate as parents.
"I try to tell them, worry about your home, your heating bill — but they're the ones who have to look into children's faces, the children saying 'I want this, I want that.'"
Even in some households not in fiscal crisis, there's a sense that this holiday season is different.
John Schenkenfelder, a financial adviser and father of three in Louisville, Ky., wrote a blog entry this month urging families to scale down their gift-giving and spend more time playing together.
"This has been bugging me for years, even when times were great," Schenkenfelder said in a telephone interview. "Maybe people will get it this year — they're so unprepared for this debacle. They're shell-shocked."
In Columbus, Ohio, Erin Beth Dower Charron has been trying to brace her 4-year-old son and 8-year-old daughter for more subdued gift-getting this year as the family begins financial belt-tightening.
"My 8-year-old is still holding out hope that Santa will get her that one special gift, but understanding this year may be different," Dower Charron said. "My son doesn't understand. Everything he sees, he wants."
Toy ads on kids' TV shows make the process harder, she said. "The onslaught seems to be more intense this year."
Dower Charron was among the hundreds of parents who took up the suggestion to write to toy companies.
"Help me understand why your toy is the better one for my child, and why it should be one of the few I can afford," she wrote. "Don't leave that up to my children."
The director of the Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood, psychologist Susan Linn, said she and her colleagues don't expect toy companies to stop advertising — rather, they want the ads directed at parents.
"It's cruel to dangle irresistible ads for toys and electronics in front of kids — encouraging them to nag for gifts that their parents can't afford," she said. "It's just not fair."
The big toy makers aren't likely to redirect their ads for one fundamental reason, according to Richard Gottlieb, a New York-based consultant to the industry.
"Toy companies advertise to children because it works, to be brutally honest," Gottlieb said in an interview.
Gottlieb also contends that it's good for children to encounter toy ads — even in cases where products later turn out to be disappointments.
"It teaches, for very low stakes, how to navigate in our consumer culture," he said.
"They are going to have to spend the rest of their lives listening to every kind of marketing approach, and childhood is where they will learn to cope with it."
As for the economic pressure on parents, Gottlieb sounds a fatalistic note.
"Believe me, there are families with much bigger issues on their plates right now then worrying about whether their child will be unhappy because they did not get a particular toy," Gottlieb wrote in his "Out of the Toy Box" blog. "Delivering disappointment goes with the job of parenting."
Dear New York Wal-Mart Shoppers:
Now you've done it. You murdered a Wal-Mart employee on Black Friday. Trampled him to death because he made the mistake of not calling in sick on the most horrible retail day of the entire year.
Jdimytai Damour, a 34-year-old man, is dead now because you oozing sores couldn't stand the thought of somebody else beating you to your precious merchandise. You showed up at Wally World on Thanksgiving Day - a day before the sales - to be absolutely certain that you, the most important people on the planet, didn't miss out on the goods. Because, as we all know, everything is all about you, of course.
That stampede isn't even the worst part. You're guilty of that, but also of not giving a rat's furry butt that you had just killed somebody. When Wal-Mart announced that they were going to close the store - because, you know, one of their own was dead, thanks to you animals, meaning that the store was a crime scene because of you - you protested. How dare they close when you were in line since Thursday? Just because somebody is no longer living doesn't mean that you should have to go home without your precious merchandise, right? You entitled, selfish boils on society's backside. You life-stealing, oxygen-thieving wastes of matter. You subhuman savages.
Die in a fire. All of you. You murdered an innocent person - a man who was just doing his job - for consumer goods. You didn't even have a decent reason to kill him, you selfish pieces of garbage. Wal-Mart wasn't selling kidneys for transplant, or the last bottle of oxygen, or the last plate of food in existence. Your "reason," as written in the news article:
Items on sale at the store included a Samsung 50-inch Plasma HDTV for $798, a Bissel Compact Upright Vacuum for $28, a Samsung 10.2 megapixel digital camera for $69 and DVDs such as "The Incredible Hulk" for $9.
I did not leave the house today. It's Black Friday: you're insane if you think that I'm going to leave this warm, safe house and fruitlessly attempt to shove through packed crowds in search of sale-priced crap that I don't really want or need.
Instead, I slept in and leisurely strolled into the kitchen at around eleven in the morning. We were getting some rain, and it was a bit chilly outside, so I was immediately glad that I'd maintained my tradition of Staying the Hell Home on the Worst Shopping Day of the Year.
One of my brothers, however, was conned into taking his girlfriend out to hit the "door buster" sales. Here is his report:
He awoke at three-thirty this morning, dragged himself out of bed, and drove to his girlfriend's house. After picking her up, they made it to the first store at the unholy time of four-thirty a.m. Our sister, who works at this store, was not scheduled to work until the afternoon, so she was just as cozy and warm in her bed as I was in mine when Bro. ventured forth into public.
Bro. found a good parking spot, about halfway between the store and the road. The closer spots were already crammed full of early-bird shoppers, all too insane to just stay at home and be comfortable like I was.
When Bro. and Girlfriend went into the store, they could not find a shopping cart. They saw several people pushing one empty cart and pulling another one behind them. They were gearing up for five a.m., when the sales started.
The store was, of course, packed. The couple could barely squeeze through to the small appliances, or to the picture frames, or to anything else that was on sale. This happened despite the fact that the store, in preparation for the crazy-low prices on these specific items, had dumped pallets crammed full of these things in the middle of the larger aisles. Despite all this extra space, and ease of access, the couple could not see around the crowd. They were swiftly enveloped, and stuck there, navigating as one homogenous lump of flesh and hair.
Other shoppers, who were already waiting for the sale to begin, circled the pallets with their carts. If you were late to the party, you could not work your way in to grab the sale items. The earliest of the early birds had created walls of carts, with their own bodies between the carts and the goods. Heaven forbid somebody else also get the chance to grab those $1.50 bath towels that mean oh so very much.
At precisely five a.m., the store's intercom announced the time. At that moment, Bro. said, "Everyone started grabbing boxes from the pallets and throwing them into their carts. All at once." He said that the sound nearly deafened him.
However, Bro. and his girlfriend were able to acquire the few items that were on their respective lists. Bro. came home with a nice stand mixer for our mother, who is prone to breaking lesser mixers (she makes lots of cookies, bread, cinnamon rolls, et cetera - the "regular" mixers die under the strain). The girlfriend got her...whatever she wanted.
They were in the store, though, for a total of two hours, because nothing happened quickly. Standing in line to check out took forever. Trying to work their way to the checkout took forever. Navigating the crowd of shoppers on the way back to the vehicle took forever.
When the happy couple left the store, people were parking in the side street between the store and the neighboring strip mall. The actual lot was completely packed, and not showing any signs of emptying.
That's why I shop online, or well before Christmas, folks. I despise crowds, and I loathe the elbowing, shoving and "me first" attitude that Black Friday sales foster. That, and I'm too polite to barge through a line of elderly people to get a friggin' bath towel.
Have a great Turkey Day, everybody. Even if you aren't American, have a good time anyway.
We'll be celebrating later in the week, when the last of The Sibs come into town. Good stuff. It's supposed to be warmer the day he comes back anyway. Good turkey-and-shooting weather, you know.
However, we did go to the grocery store tonight to be sure that we got all of the necessities for dinner. By "we" I mean one of my brothers and me. Mom, mysteriously, did not feel like going, so she sent us instead. This strange illness, which was not well defined, struck just before we were scheduled to walk out the door. Odd, really, but what are you going to do? I certainly am not going to argue with that lady. She scares me, quite frankly, and I want to be on her bad side about as much as I want to rip out my toenails.
So there we were, in this overcrowded store, trying to get a cart full of stuff to turn into Thanksgiving dinner later in the week. During the hour and half that Bro and I were in this store, we:
* Pondered running over one child, who appeared to be between ten and twelve years old (read: old enough to know better). Why? Because she darted in front of us, shouldered our shopping cart out of her way (even though I was trying to push said cart at the time) and just kept on rolling. Kid, I hope that Santa Claus leaves reindeer nuggets in your stocking this year, and every year until you learn the phrase "Excuse me."
* Had to call Mom for a backup plan because the store was completely out of corn starch. Completely out. Seriously. That entire section of the shelf contained only a thick layer of corn starch dust, which I briefly considered sweeping into one of the plastic bags from the produce department and taking home to Mom. (Despite the fact that this would end in my death.)
* Marveled at the sheer number of idiots who, despite the aisles being crammed full of busy shoppers, parked their carts right in the middle of the main aisles to yak with other people. Hey, morons. We're trying to get through here. Take your conversation somewhere else. Yes, I know that you haven't seen your fellow emo kid since high school (which was, like, LAST WEEK), but get out of the way.
* Snagged two of the last four cans of whole cranberries. Yeah! None of that jellied, "takes the shape of the can" garbage around here!
And that's why I despise grocery shopping.
Have a safe Memorial Day if you possibly can. While my family and I cooked out today, we remembered why we have the freedom to put bacon strips on our baked beans.
That is all.
I don't like crowds, so I usually avoid them if possible. The more strangers there are in the vicinity, the less comfortable I am. It's easier for me to practice situational awareness if there aren't many people around. And I have more fun shopping, working, playing, whatever, when there are just a few strangers in the area.
Earlier this week, a stack of sales fliers showed up in the Borroum clan's mailbox. I looked at most of them. Beall's didn't have anything interesting on sale. Neither did Wal-Mart. Radio Shack? Same story. There aren't many places to shop in this small community, so I didn't take long to confirm what I already believed: few, if any, consumer goods are worth the lost sleep, crowds and other traumas that come with door-buster sales on Black Friday.
So instead of waking before the sun and getting out in the near-freezing cold to stand outside of one store or another, I stayed in bed. I was warm and comfortable. Some of the kitties curled up on and beside me while I slept. And when I woke, the Law & Order marathon was still going. Even though I was up earlier than usual (6:30 - which should not come around twice a day as far as I'm concerned), I had a very good morning.
Local stores were, of course, packed. Malls, electronics retailers and clothing stores in the Metroplex were beyond crowded. At one mall, people were parking in the grass because all of the actual spots were taken.
I watched the live coverage from my living room. I drank Dr Pepper, ate leftover pizza from Wednesday night, and toasted my backside by the fire. This is my idea of a good Black Friday: staying warm while other people raid the stores for cruddy merchandise.
I love shopping for other people. I really do. Every year, my siblings and I draw names from a hat. This year, I drew Middle Bro's name, so I'm shopping for him. This is one of my family's older traditions. There are five kids in my generation of the Borroum clan, so we have to pare the shopping list. Otherwise, we'd all buy (and receive) four cruddy gifts from Dollar Tree.
As of right now, I do not have Middle Bro's Christmas present in hand. I'm not even 100 percent sure of what to get for him yet. But before the twenty-fifth, I'll have his gift wrapped and ready to go.
My secret: online shopping. I can find just about anything in the world with just a few mouse clicks. My debit card has great fraud protection. UPS, FedEx and DHL all know how to find my house. The USPS delivers right to my P.O. box. If I place the order - for whatever it is that I end up getting for my brother - soon, most merchants will guarantee pre-Christmas delivery.
There are no crowds, insane door-buster sales, or any other brick-and-mortar-related frustrations. So yes, I'm shopping online this year, as I've done for the last few years.
