Observations by Key Monroe~~Home of Right Opinions, Cynical Viewpoints, and TMI in Hefty Doses
|E-mail: keymonroe [at] alltel [dot] net

November 23, 2005

Bark Aheh-hem...

A week's worth of coughing, and I'm still hacking away. Very attractive. The good news is that I should have a six pack before long, if my abdominal soreness is any indication.

Sooo... Tis the season to recycle. This is a Thanksgiving recipe from two years ago, courtesy a seven year old Miss Priss:

"HOW TO COOK A TURKEY" - A second grade assignment recipe by Miss Priss:

"First you need a turkey. You take the directions and you take a knife or an ax. Take the turkey and put it in the oven. You need to leave it in the oven for an hour. When it has been in there for an hour, put the thermometer in the turkey. When the turkey is hot enough, put it on a plate and eat it."

So, obviously, Priss is in charge of the turkey; meanwhile, I'm going to attempt a pumpkin cheesecake.

Happy Thanksgiving everybody!

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posted by Key on 03:17 PM | Comments (12) | TrackBack (1)
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November 18, 2005

I Don't Want To Talk About It

But that's not the only reason I've failed to bring it up; blogging has been light, as I have been feeling crappy most of the week, you know, coughing up bronchial slugs and junk.

So the "it" that I don't want to talk about, but I'm going to anyway? Football.

Specifically, my baby Dawgs. But this is not dedicated to glorifying the home team. I have seen some shitty-ass officiating this season, often against teams to whom I owe no allegiance...

But it still pisses me the fuck off.

Vandy. Vandy! [For example...] Was gonna beat Florida. But they were not allowed to go for the two points. Nope. Got backed up for celebrating. Celebrating? WTF? The guy shook his ass and hugged a teammate. That would have been a huge win for Vandy, and it left me hoping that a head rolled shortly thereafter.

And I am not one to blame a loss on poor officiating. Last year, we lost to Tennessee, and it was really fucking sad. Maybe there was a poor call or two, always is. But usually evenly afflicted, and not why we lost. Ainge had a good day, Green had a poor one. And Richt failed to recognize that and let Shockley finish the game. Simple as that.

A few weeks ago, we lost to Florida. Maybe a few bad calls. Little stuff. No big. Florida got them too. Not Shockley's fault either. Joe T did okay. But our defense was bummed, rolled over and played dead the entire first quarter, and our kicker never did find his foot.

But last week? Sure, it was close, would've been close even with fair officiating, but we played well enough to have maintained a secure lead. Yet we did not maintain a secure lead due to the calls. That's right. I'm blaming the refs. And the shoe fits in this case. I have never seen such poor officiating. It was Twilight Zoney even. Players staring in disbelief at the camera dangling precariously on a mid-field tight-rope, wondering if they were on Mad TV.

After the half, die hard Dawg fans had trouble cheering, angered as we were. And more...dumbfounded. It was fucking blatant. And I was at the game, but I hear even the TV commentators said as much.

Every iffy call that benefited Georgia was reviewed. Not one iffy call that benefited Auburn was reviewed. Shock! What'd we ever do to you, ref?

We sacked their QB. Didn't count. They had called a time out before the snap.

We scored in the second half, and two points would have given us a secure lead. We had called for a time out prior to snap to set the play. Not recognized. Delay of game. Not Auburn, but refs pushed us back. Had to kick.


How bout getting set back cuz Pope flinched his arm? Prolly had a bug on his elbow.

How about calling pass interference on us when we had the ball?! ...Yes, I know that in theory you can call pass interference on the offensive team if someone on the defense has a shot at intercepting. But I've never seen it done! Sorry, did our man get in your way as he attempted to catch our ball? Unbelievable.

All of that I could have forgiven, if not for what came next, what I like to call the most egregious lack of officiating that I've ever seen.

Man down. Lonely ball sitting two feet from downed man's left arm on the grass. Players standing around, hands on hips, looking at the ref, waiting to see if the pass would be called complete.

Meanwhile, a lone Auburn defender (with stars in his eyes) spied the lonely ball, scooped it up, and ran it into the end-zone, figuring what the hell, worth a try, right?

So we waited for the inevitable. For the ball to be called back by the ref, and wondering where they'd spot it. After all, it obviously wasn't a fumble. Man down. Lonely dead-looking ball. No dog-pile. No fumble.

They didn't call him back! WTF? WTF? WTF? Put the jerseys on the refs; we're playing them!

You've got to be kidding me. (Had noone picked it up, I am sure it would have been ruled incomplete!)

I've been so disgusted that I haven't watched a game of football all week. And I love football.

Yes, our defense should have stopped them when they were 4th and 12, and we would have had the game by a point if we had. And so, if that carelessness alone had cost us the game, I'd be pissed, but not robbed.

I been robbed, peeps. If not for the worst of the bad calls, we still would have had the game, and by a healthy six points.

Yeah, I know we can still clench SEC East. Not the point. The point is that I am stomping my feet and crying about the injustice of it all. And, for my Dawgies' sake, I hope they are not as petulant as I, as they have work to do.

We shall see on the morrow.

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posted by Key on 05:06 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)

November 14, 2005

Redistribution of Wealth

For Pedro and Jack

Once upon a time there was a big, beautiful cat, orange and tigerish in appearance, and, in fact, answering to the name "Tigs." He patrolled a friendly neighborhood in middle-class suburbia, and he was admired and petted by all.

One day, Tigs was in a horrible accident, and lay mostly lifeless along a jogging trail near the street.

Only three neighbors happened down the trail that night. The first hated that Tigs was injured; he and his children were very fond of the animal. But Tigs was not his cat, and he didn't even know the owner, so he continued on his way.

The second neighbor was very upset over the injuries, and told Tigs to "hang in there" while he ran off to organize a fundraiser for the vet bill.

The third and last neighbor who happened by that night was also very upset over Tigs's condition. He could tell that he had been suffering for a while, and given the late hour, the neighbor wasn't even sure an emergency operation would save him. Hating what he had to do, he ran a tender hand over Tig's head before grasping firmly, breaking the neck.

Now. Quick! Which neighbor was a Republican, which was a Democrat, and which was a Libertarian?

Obviously, this post is a spin off of my last. Tigs's story is not intended to compare a girl to a dying cat, but rather to ponder the varying human response to suffering. And hopefully, it may have even highlighted how utterly ridiculous it is to surmise someone's political affiliation based upon that response.

This is because human personalities are more varied than the party for which they vote. We all have independent personalities, and we WILL respond to suffering differently.

Personally, I think it is an outrage that ANYONE involved, doctor, hospital, mom, dad, charity, government, neighbor, pastor, friend, ANYONE, would stand by patiently while a little girl's face slowly explodes.

I know that the money has been collected at this point, so only the principle is left to argue. And yes, Pedro, I did pick on the doctors a bit, but only because I didn't take the time to pick on everyone else, though I was definitely mad at the lot. And I see now that the quote could have as easily referred to the hospital board. Regardless, my prob is with the "have to wait" portion of the quote, and I am more than happy to direct my venom to the hospital board, or whoever else is responsible for the necessity to wait.

The docs may have been misrepresented in this case. But Pedro, not all docs are like you. Every industry has its self-serving bastards. (Mine certainly does.) And while I've defended doctors against the price-setting nonsense that has the Canadian doctors running to our borders for decent pay, I know that the very capitalistic mindset which I adore, at times, houses selfish bastards.... and again, that's in every industry.

Of course I appreciate that some docs donate their time, both domestically and abroad! I appreciate that hotels have offered shelter to those displaced by the storms. And on a personal level, I have waived real estate commissions to those having to move due to hardship.

And of course I've read Atlas Shrugged!, though I didn't like it as much as Fountainhead. Question Pedro: if all of the "thinkers" run off to some Eden in the mountains of Colorado, who the fuck is going to throw the brakes on the runaway socialist train?

Point: The larger the role that you and I accept to personally mend tragedy within our own country, the smaller the role that is left for our ever-growing government to deduct involuntary charity from our paycheck.

Regarding the girl? So what if I'm fiscally tight? Does that mean I'm heartless? I'll be frank. I can't stand it. I can not stand suffering of any sort. I will not watch movies in which any degree of torture takes place.

I don't care if my pastor thinks I should watch Passion of the Christ! Ain't gonna happen. But I'll be honest, I'd rather have an evening of gruesome torture than years of a bomb growing under my face. That is the most fucked up thing I've seen in a great while, and I can think of about a thousand ways I'd rather die.

No, I don't think anyone should get a free ride, but I do believe that as long as free rides are being given away, I nominate this child to receive my tax monies. And yeah, with or without Medicaid, I think the surgery should have been performed, the bill settled later. I have delinquents in my biz 12 months outstanding, and I haven't gone after their first born yet.

As far as getting that bill paid, no prob. Mom goes into the biggest and most televised church in Florida, they raise a special collection, and surgery and college are both paid for in one lump sum. (All the child has to do is smile for the camera after the surgery.)

So, I apologize if I sounded the slightest bit lacking in capitalistic appreciation, but as you guys know from my foster mom days, I will always have a soft spot for children, and so that post was born out of pure exasperation at the sheer adult idiocy factor. And I don't know how many adults accounted for this tragic delay, but I know that there are some fates worse than death. And I have a new one to add to the list.

(BTW: I would like to thank those who defended me as I took my weekend leave... And a disclaimer regarding the title for those who may have missed the subtle side of me: I hate that fucking phrase!)

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posted by Key on 04:29 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack (0)

November 11, 2005

Compassionate Conservative?

No. Well, maybe, but only when there are children involved...

Meet Marlie Casseus.

Whoever waited until it got THAT bad to consider surgery for this child needs to be fed to rabid wolves. I'm still finding it hard to believe that any American ER wouldn't immediately take her in, settle the bill later.

And what's with this quote:

"A team of doctors in Miami are ready to help the 14-year-old girl but they
have to wait until enough money is raised to pay for her hospital stay."

Guess I'd never make it in journalism. I would have said, "A team of very
wealthy doctors is anxious to take on the deformed patient, however they
refuse to donate their own time. If you middle class Americans, who may never
have the luxuries that these doctors afford, would like to donate, so that
this team will get off their asses and attempt to fix the suffering child, click HERE."

And for those of you fellow middle-class Americans who are not "charitied" to the nub, please feel free to give, as I hate for the child to suffer any longer due to the idiocies of the adults involved. Although, it does irk me that the charity in question does not disclose the running total that they have collected on Marlie's behalf. I'm guessing they've well exceeded the $95,000, and will, in fact, be well funded for quite some time off of the monies swept in by those outraged by Marlie's condition.

Wonder how many kids on Medicaid this year lived in Mexico last year? Might not be a pc question, but I don't care. Point is, people less critical are getting bandaged up care of the taxpayer. Why not the child from Haiti with a 16 pound tumor on her face?

(Link from Drudge.)

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posted by Key on 05:29 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBack (1)
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November 08, 2005

Can We Do This Telepathically?

Can't I just blog in my head? I know. My page is dusty. I have written DOZENS of posts in my head, but when I visited my page today, they weren't there.


No back up copy either. No clue what I was gonna say. Maybe I need a Gingko biloba cocktail with a dash of grape seed extract, topped with a bit of horny goat weed just for fun.

What's kept me so busy? Well...

While I was attending the aforementioned meet at Mr. Wiggle's place, Miss Priss was spending some quality time with her cousins, who live north of Marietta. They do these silly, cheer-dance competition thingies, where they go and shake their too-young-to-be-shakin booties and wear too much make-up, and strut their stuff in overpriced uniforms. And, of course, they must practice for hours and hours every week.

Oh, and the price tag for all of this?!


So anyway, we made it back to Shrek's sis and bro-in-law's house around three. The girls were still out, so we settled in to watch Georgia/Florida on the ten foot TV. Which was good, you know, so that I could really appreciate the smiling blue eyes on Chris Leak as he Pissed all over our defense.

Anyhow, Priss and the girls showed around half-time, and my sweetie girl immediately -as in, no "hello"- announced that I was to go back from whence I came, as she had no desire to see me until the next day. After all, the competition wasn't over until Sunday, and how did I expect her to sleep at night until she knew whether or not her cousins' teams had placed?

So, we waited til she fell asleep and threw her in the back of the Expedition.

After school, the following Monday:

Shrek: Key, did you sign Priss up for basketball?

Key: No.

Shrek: Why not? [Understand peeps, Priss does not have my height, which is a good thing in my humble, but in this case...]

Key: Uh, have you asked her what she wants her winter sport to be? [Although I don't push a particular sport, I insist that she must stay active, lest she become a professional Nickelodeon vegetable.]

Shrek: Uh, no...

Key: [Looking at the child who was only seemingly oblivious to the conversation] Priss, do you want to sign up for basketball or keep doing gymnastics?

Priss: Neither one. I want to do competitive cheer. [Well, I knew that was coming. I wasn't bringing it up though...]

Shrek: NO! NOOOOOOO! No way. Forget it. Never. No child of mine is gonna get up on stage and...

Key: Hon... Uh, this is Mayberry. The competition team here doesn't even show their navels.

He was reasonably pacified, knew basketball wasn't happening, and so the next day Priss and I went to check out this new gym. Little Miss Anal had already conducted playground interviews with all of those in her grade who presently attend or have ever attended the gym in question, and so I had been completely briefed on the pros and cons before even darkening the door.

Once inside, she observed for over an hour, quietly, no doubt making mental notes, and was invited back the following day to practice with the team.

And, while I thought - silly me - that we were checking them out, they were actually checkin' her out. After the practice, I was allowed back to speak to one of the coaches, and Priss was then officially asked to join the team... if I was willing to second mortgage the house and expose my child to entirely too much stress for her age, etc. Shit, I wouldn't have even agreed to the practice, had I known there was the potential for rejection. (Not my nerves. Hers. The kid is already on Prevacid. Next stop: Xanax.)

But she begged. And pleaded. And promised she'd work hard. And clean her room. And not have a tear-flooded nervous break-down in the middle of practice. (That's a biggie for a Pisces with four water signs.)

And while she did look good out there, she's also coming in late in the season, and I never would have suggested this for her.... Not merely because cheerleading is annoying, and it is, but because she has issues. (Yeah, like her Mama, only different.) This is the first time that she has ever BEGGED to be put into a situation that will force her to address her anxiety issues head-on, and I had to appreciate that. And worry over it... Yet mask any doubt. And ask her a thousand times if she was really, really sure, as this is a FIVE month commitment.

I wrote the check last night. Stalled for a week, I did. But she had done the research, and she had made her mind. I can't say she didn't carefully consider it.

And now... I have a kid who is gonna do these silly, cheer-dance competition thingies, where they go and shake their too-young-to-be-shakin booties and wear too much make-up, and strut their stuff in overpriced uniforms. (And, in a round-about way, it's all Eric's fault.)

Heh. Can I get all of that on a bumper sticker?

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posted by Key on 08:48 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)

November 02, 2005

New Blood!

I met me some more blogger peeps last weekend, some of whom are my koolaid drinkin' brethren!

Only the chaos of everyday life has kept me from blogging on said topic until mid-week. While I am disgusted with myself for that, I must battle for my time here, as the ogre that I live and work with still likes to give me shit for "playing" online.

Hmpff. Playing. This be craftsmanship.

I was hoping last weekend's intro to blogworld would do the trick. For those of you not in attendance, I dragged Shrek up to Eric's in an attempt to impress said ogre with the savvy bunch that I, myself, could not wait to meet.

We were whole-heartedly welcomed; I got to meet me some new blood!, and Shrek had a great time despite himself...so I thank you guys for hiding your freakish sides until we were long gone Saturday night! After all was said and done, if the ogre was the slightest bit unimpressed, it was in my attempt to use you guys to substantiate my time-devouring hobby! Eh, nonbelievers.

So, we arrived at 10pm, beating Zonkman -heh!-, after my obnoxious ass ran a text race with him all the way up. We had passed some really beautiful countryside, but uh, we wouldn't know it until the next day.

However, there was some beautiful decor in Eric's living room, which we noticed immediately upon our arrival. I was thinking Zonker....man....hurry up; you're missing out! But I said: Nice to meet you Princess Cat! Sissy! AWTM! Bou and Bou sis! (And this list, to be complete, must include the ever patient Straight White Wife and Tammi, who arrived on the scene later.)

I am so not used to having so many women around at blogmeets to temper the testosterone factor. It was sooooo nice! I think I could spend a week at the beach with these gals. Seriously. Collectively, the following attributes are brought to the table: Beauty, Brains, Energy, Calm, Wit, and Humor, rolled into a Care-taking, Laid-back, or High Strung shell. Perfect!

(WHY didn't I link the attributes? Are you quite mad?! You know who you are!)

The fellas: Eric was not his usual step-bratty self, but rather was a charming and gracious host. Personally, I like him somewhere in between, but I'll take him how I can get 'im! Zonk, on the other hand, was a brat as usual, particularly because he refused to wear the mullet. But I still love him. As I do Denny, whom I'm getting attached to, and whom I automatically assume I will get to see at every meet. Hopefully, I will never be denied!

PRS refused to get trashed on my watch. Man, I had my camera ready too, and all I got was a pic of the man snoozing! (Heh, didn't know that, did ya?)

Johnny Oh! was great. He's like a cat. He's all cool about the attention he receives... until ya direct it elsewhere. Heh. Then he pounces! Thankfully, upon getting hit, my good buddy Glenn Reynolds produced the quick-on-the-draw reflexes to catch this here leaning tower before I took out Eric's wine rack. I tell ya, that was impressive. For a sec, I was Lois Lane and he was Superman...

Neck showed late, just before my bedtime, but it was good to see him, and I believe that Shrek saw in him, a kindred spirit. (Redneck, btw, did not disappoint; he appeared, as expected, in a quilted plaid jacket, and holding a can of Bud. Ah, I love it.)

I met Tammi and the That 1 Guy the next morning. I tackled her first, told her who I was second. What? I'm from Georgia; she should be glad I didn't unload all of the family skeletons into her lap, as my mother does every time she meets a new gas station attendant. That 1 Guy? Well, ya gotta love a hunk with a sweet smile. And I'll not pick on the whole ER story; I'd rather be on the big guy's good side!

One last shout to those that I WISH HAD SHOWED FRIDAY NIGHT, because I wanted to meet their sorry behinds. Granted, my sorry behind took off Saturday, so I really have no case. But when does that stop a blogger from bitchin'? ...Alas, the cure for Post-Blogmeet Depression is another meet, non? Giddy-up.

(P.S., Coming soon: Pics!)

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posted by Key on 05:08 PM | Comments (11) | TrackBack (1)
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