I must warn you that today's blog is PO Rated, slanted, biased, and all around ready to blow. I was going to wait to write this until I could find a calm perspective, but damnit there just isn't one. (The alternatives just make me more PO'd.) As a courtesy to my husband, the best man I ever met,I have refrained from mentioning family members by name, not today...MINIRE!!!!
My sister-in-law is one of the evilest, vilest, creatures ever born, and that includes folklore. But until today I kept that my opinion to myself, as a sometimes nice Southern girl, instead preferring to say, 'we don't speak'. Well no more!
My beer guzzling, pork chowing hubby is somehow always viewed as the black sheep by his more and more devout family. Especially, by his holier-than-thou sister, Minire. She doesn't drink, she doesn't smoke (hates all females that do, and yeah that includes other female muslims/family members), and she never has a good word to say about anybody. What she does do is: BREAKING AND ENTERING! Yeah, you read that right. Apparently, somehow in a hidden passage of the Quran, it is ok to just take a peek in someone else's house. Her words exactly were, "I just wanted to see what color they painted the walls..." I shit you not!
Now, I should say that she was a previous owner to that property. A property that she sold to us on September 1st, to save her from yet another ok with Islam, foreclosure, caused by the refusal to pay your mortgage if it's inconvenient. Now, we had a closing, we had the discussion pointing out the fact that if you were paid for a property, and your butt is saved from said foreclosure, the property is no longer yours.
I should also point out, she never the mortgage on said property once, as she happily expected her son to pay her bills for all eternity. Unfortunately that no-so-attractive son of hers had other plans. Including the marriage to a too-pretty-for-him woman that promptly spouted out three children faster than a jackrabbit. Apparently, too-pretty-for-him baby machine was ok with the arrangement of forever housing mama, until mommy dearest refused to babysit for free, and then, well...you can see how well that went.
Which brings us to the current dilemna. Bitchy mama was losing her house, we were begged to step in and save her from public embarrassment, and thus we all went to the aforementioned closing. At that closing, we gave money, papers were signed, and keys and garage opener were remanded.
But was it the day of reckoning for Brumhilde? No, in a sly little pocket of her witch's gown, there lie a key.... Today, that key was used. I hope with all my heart that that was the first time it was used, but I simply don't believe it. The worst thing is, not how she could have me cost me my real estate license, or even the fact that we could have been named as parties to her little broomflying ride on the wild side. The worst thing is the poor, incredibly terrified tenants.
Imagine, you hear a key scrape in the lock, but you think nothing of it, after all you are expecting your wife home at any minute. right? So, you continue undressing and slip on your oh, so not hip, but very comfy pjs to walk into your living room and find an intruder. You don't have a gun on your unsexy pjs (dang it), and you're not even sure what you seeing.
Strange lady, speaking no English, is casing your apartment, she's delving in your boxes, she's eying your flatscreen. What do you do? You shriek, she runs and you call, yours truly.
I say, "Call the police (never suspecting my FU'd sister-in-law, I mean I got those keys, right?) and I'll call a locksmith." Well, as it so happens the cops show up and the mysterious snooper woman show up simultaneously. Yeah, she returns to the scene of the crime, only next door, with teenage niece in hand, and acting completely oblivious to the pointing fingers from the rent house across the driveway.
Suddenly, no one speaks English, my tenant is frantic on the phone, accusing me of being in cahoots with the snooping demon, and I'm in Florida wanting to commit my own form of jihad. Thank god for the distance, or I'd never get off that Homeland Security spooky kook list.
Long story short...Tons of frantic pleading (mostly for my own behind), mention that my sister-in-law (never mention she may or may not be working for Mohammed) is the daughter of satan and certifiably insane. Tenants are leary (who wouldn't be?), hubby's family mysteriously relearns the English language, and the God-bless-Americans Tenants, don't press charges, YET!
I hope we all learned something from this...doubtful.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Was NPR Unfair to Juan Williams?
NPR Radio has terminated Juan Williams, highly respected civil rights activist and NPR host, after comments he made on the O'Reilly Factor with Bill O'Reilly.
Juan Williams, "Look, Bill, I'm not a bigot. You know the kind of books I've written about the civil rights movement in this country. But when I get on the plane, I got to tell you, if I see people who are in Muslim garb and I think, you know, they are identifying themselves first and foremost as Muslims, I get worried. I get nervous."
To be fair, Williams argued against blaming all Muslims as "extremists," saying Christians shouldn't be blamed for Oklahoma City bomber Timothy McVeigh.
I wholeheartedly agree with both comments, and it's rare that I agree with anything Mr. Williams has to say. I face this dilemna everyday of my life. When I sit down on a flight, after being puffed by the puffing machine, patted down by a burly invasive female security officer, and stared down by the mind readers, I immediately look around to see who looks like the real terrorist aboard. (For some reason Homeland Security has me on the "watch out for that extremist kook" list.) I'm proud to be poked and prodded like a prime heifer ready for slaughter. Why? Because it means someone is looking out the welfare of every passenger on that flight, and that includes my fine flanks.
So is it fair for NPR to terminate such a respected advocate for social justice just because he had the gumpta to speak what everyone else on that plane is thinking? I think not and NPR is playing scared. They have become so politically correct should they even be called NPR anymore? Do they represent the nation or not?
Juan Williams' comment referring to the Muslim's choice to identify himself and set himself apart is starkly accurate. My husband has family members that specifically try to make statements and defy someone to remark on their religious choice. They twist prayer beads on their rearview mirrors, attach them to their key rings, and keep a copy of "A Brief Illustrated Guide to Understanding Islam", in their rear car window just in case someone missed the fourteen pounds of beads. They want an opportunity to fight for their religion.
I believe in the rights of all religions, if you want to pray to the praying mantis, I'll not take issue with it. So for the Muslims, I say pray away. But if you come on a flight dressed to 'blow up', with the look of jihad on your face, don't be offended by the comments you might elicit as you scare the bejesus out of some little old lady.
Juan Williams, "Look, Bill, I'm not a bigot. You know the kind of books I've written about the civil rights movement in this country. But when I get on the plane, I got to tell you, if I see people who are in Muslim garb and I think, you know, they are identifying themselves first and foremost as Muslims, I get worried. I get nervous."
To be fair, Williams argued against blaming all Muslims as "extremists," saying Christians shouldn't be blamed for Oklahoma City bomber Timothy McVeigh.
I wholeheartedly agree with both comments, and it's rare that I agree with anything Mr. Williams has to say. I face this dilemna everyday of my life. When I sit down on a flight, after being puffed by the puffing machine, patted down by a burly invasive female security officer, and stared down by the mind readers, I immediately look around to see who looks like the real terrorist aboard. (For some reason Homeland Security has me on the "watch out for that extremist kook" list.) I'm proud to be poked and prodded like a prime heifer ready for slaughter. Why? Because it means someone is looking out the welfare of every passenger on that flight, and that includes my fine flanks.
So is it fair for NPR to terminate such a respected advocate for social justice just because he had the gumpta to speak what everyone else on that plane is thinking? I think not and NPR is playing scared. They have become so politically correct should they even be called NPR anymore? Do they represent the nation or not?
Juan Williams' comment referring to the Muslim's choice to identify himself and set himself apart is starkly accurate. My husband has family members that specifically try to make statements and defy someone to remark on their religious choice. They twist prayer beads on their rearview mirrors, attach them to their key rings, and keep a copy of "A Brief Illustrated Guide to Understanding Islam", in their rear car window just in case someone missed the fourteen pounds of beads. They want an opportunity to fight for their religion.
I believe in the rights of all religions, if you want to pray to the praying mantis, I'll not take issue with it. So for the Muslims, I say pray away. But if you come on a flight dressed to 'blow up', with the look of jihad on your face, don't be offended by the comments you might elicit as you scare the bejesus out of some little old lady.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Whatever
I'm a worthless blogger. I just don't seem to possess the necessary stamina or interest to keep this bloody thing updated. I realize the horror of that as every writing class I take further drills my uselessness into me. But the truth is, as this is only about my life with my Muslim husband, sometimes our life is just boring.
I spent the last week scheduling our trip to Kosovo for Christmas. Odd, you might say and you'd be right, to go to a Muslim country for a Christian holiday. Our biggest pissing match occured over exactly where we will spend said Christian festivities.
We don't arrive until Christmas Eve, flying out on the 23rd, oh for gosh sakes you get it, it's an overnight flight, yada, yada, yada. And as such he understandly, (I won't admit to ever having said that) wants to spend Christmas with his family. Now, I wouldn't, and shouldn't, have an issue with that, except hello, they are moslem. So there won't be any teary rememberances of the wrigling baby Jesus or even Christmas carols. And I could live with that, but what about brandy spiked eggnog? Am I to suffer hot tea and stale biscuits on the Lord's Birthday? Blasphemy, no less!
It's not like his mother will notice if we come in and sneak out the next morning. I honestly love her to death, but she doesn't remember me anymore and rarely does she remember him. (Ah, the sad plight of Alzheimers, but her treatment is another blog altogether.)
The greatest problem is the local churches, not mosques, that are still standing, won't let me in. I could sneak out for an hour or two on the pretense of needing something...coffee, internet (nope, can't claim that anymore, just spent $3500 to install it in the house) or prayer beads? The local churches no longer hold services, the closest being 20 kilometers away. They only accept the local Christians (Yes, some have actually stayed...now, that's ballsy) in fear of Muslim terrorism. So, I have to go to the Decani Monastery, two hours away in order to worship. Incredible gorgeous place! (If I win the argument I'll post pics.)
I'm not a very religious person, (cults tend to leave a doubt in your mind) but Christmas is like Easter, "I gots to get my Jesus on Days". Celebrate those two just in case there really is something to the Christian thing and those are the best services. I love the incense, the speciality singers, and kick butt coffee and cake after.
Perhaps, seeing that I'm probably worshiping for all the wrong reasons, I should just give in. Let my hubby have the holiday in whole without whiney winsome comments from me. Oh hell no!
I spent the last week scheduling our trip to Kosovo for Christmas. Odd, you might say and you'd be right, to go to a Muslim country for a Christian holiday. Our biggest pissing match occured over exactly where we will spend said Christian festivities.
We don't arrive until Christmas Eve, flying out on the 23rd, oh for gosh sakes you get it, it's an overnight flight, yada, yada, yada. And as such he understandly, (I won't admit to ever having said that) wants to spend Christmas with his family. Now, I wouldn't, and shouldn't, have an issue with that, except hello, they are moslem. So there won't be any teary rememberances of the wrigling baby Jesus or even Christmas carols. And I could live with that, but what about brandy spiked eggnog? Am I to suffer hot tea and stale biscuits on the Lord's Birthday? Blasphemy, no less!
It's not like his mother will notice if we come in and sneak out the next morning. I honestly love her to death, but she doesn't remember me anymore and rarely does she remember him. (Ah, the sad plight of Alzheimers, but her treatment is another blog altogether.)
The greatest problem is the local churches, not mosques, that are still standing, won't let me in. I could sneak out for an hour or two on the pretense of needing something...coffee, internet (nope, can't claim that anymore, just spent $3500 to install it in the house) or prayer beads? The local churches no longer hold services, the closest being 20 kilometers away. They only accept the local Christians (Yes, some have actually stayed...now, that's ballsy) in fear of Muslim terrorism. So, I have to go to the Decani Monastery, two hours away in order to worship. Incredible gorgeous place! (If I win the argument I'll post pics.)
I'm not a very religious person, (cults tend to leave a doubt in your mind) but Christmas is like Easter, "I gots to get my Jesus on Days". Celebrate those two just in case there really is something to the Christian thing and those are the best services. I love the incense, the speciality singers, and kick butt coffee and cake after.
Perhaps, seeing that I'm probably worshiping for all the wrong reasons, I should just give in. Let my hubby have the holiday in whole without whiney winsome comments from me. Oh hell no!
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
My Beer Drinking Muslim
He doesn’t pray, he doesn’t make bombs, and he can suck down a six-pack with the best of them. Does that make my husband and best friend of twenty-three years a bad Muslim? His father would say so, so would his brothers. Just marrying me, (ex-Christian, Chardonnay drinking fool) the personification of infidel, is enough to get him kicked out of most mosques. But I know he’s a good Muslim, not only a good man.
The relationship we have is not all pork buffets and all night bingers. In fact we detest buffets and a binge would have me in bed sick for a month. Us, our thing, is rocky, passionate, and quiet.
Since 9/11 we’ve argued about his religion. Prior to that date, we never discussed it, it was a non-entity. His father was a former mayor in their small village in pre-war Kosovo. As part of the communist regime, he never attended mosque and to my husband’s recollection never spoke of Islam at all. The entire family kept the festivals, but only his mother fasted during Ramadan. So why has 9/11 changed so many people? Not only the Americans were affected, the entire Muslim community was affected just as deeply as we were.
My father-in-law suddenly became devout, and along with one my brothers-in-law even made the pilgrimage to Mecca. But why? My husband, a man I thought I knew more than anyone on earth, changed overnight. He was suddenly torn between his loyalty to his family and his love for America, his home. He no longer thinks of Kosovo as his home, America is.
Having been raised in a cult, I do not respect any organized religion. I do respect the individual’s right to religion and freedom to choose any form of observance they so choose. But having said that, I still fear Islam.
Specifically, I fear radical Islam. I fear the impassioned imams taking undereducated boys in poor countries and brainwashing them into beasts of hatred. Brainwashing exists. I personally underwent thirteen years of it before I was rescued by foster care. While the damage was done in only thirteen years it has taken thirty to begin the healing of the scars left by it.
The relationship we have is not all pork buffets and all night bingers. In fact we detest buffets and a binge would have me in bed sick for a month. Us, our thing, is rocky, passionate, and quiet.
Since 9/11 we’ve argued about his religion. Prior to that date, we never discussed it, it was a non-entity. His father was a former mayor in their small village in pre-war Kosovo. As part of the communist regime, he never attended mosque and to my husband’s recollection never spoke of Islam at all. The entire family kept the festivals, but only his mother fasted during Ramadan. So why has 9/11 changed so many people? Not only the Americans were affected, the entire Muslim community was affected just as deeply as we were.
My father-in-law suddenly became devout, and along with one my brothers-in-law even made the pilgrimage to Mecca. But why? My husband, a man I thought I knew more than anyone on earth, changed overnight. He was suddenly torn between his loyalty to his family and his love for America, his home. He no longer thinks of Kosovo as his home, America is.
Having been raised in a cult, I do not respect any organized religion. I do respect the individual’s right to religion and freedom to choose any form of observance they so choose. But having said that, I still fear Islam.
Specifically, I fear radical Islam. I fear the impassioned imams taking undereducated boys in poor countries and brainwashing them into beasts of hatred. Brainwashing exists. I personally underwent thirteen years of it before I was rescued by foster care. While the damage was done in only thirteen years it has taken thirty to begin the healing of the scars left by it.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Thank God Bajram is Over
Bajram as called by the Albanian Muslims more commonly referred to as: Eid ul-Fitr is the Festival of the Purification After Completing the Fasting Month. Yeah, a mouthful right? The irony of that is they are celebrating the fact that they put nothing in their mouths for a month. During the daylight hours anyway. Of course, they gorge themselves stupid as soon as the lights go out.
Also referred to as simply the Eid, it lasts three days, this year the third day coincided with the ninth anniversary of our September the 11th, a poor ignorant preacher in Gainesville, Florida wanting to roast wieners (I'm sure he was using pure beef ones) over the Quran, and New York in an uproar over the building of a mosque on the ashes of the World Trade Center. I admit, I was terrified they'd be another attack in New York, and not just pissed off New Yorkers throwing their shoes at Joe Biden. (Although secretly I would have given anything to see that.)
The atmosphere around here was hot and heavy for the past week as we argued ceaselessly (I am a redhead and he is pigheaded) as to the probability of such an attack. But thank God, Allah or Daffy Duck that nothing really happened.
Unless you count: Preacher Jones' free trip to New York, sans the shoe throwing, it was too hot to barbeque in Florida anyway, and a worthless deal (worthy of any White House politician) that the 9/11 mosque would be moved to a more appropriate location by a Muslim leader associated with the project. And par for the course, Muslims squealed in protest the world over the non-existent bonfire and killed a few people just for good measure.
Also referred to as simply the Eid, it lasts three days, this year the third day coincided with the ninth anniversary of our September the 11th, a poor ignorant preacher in Gainesville, Florida wanting to roast wieners (I'm sure he was using pure beef ones) over the Quran, and New York in an uproar over the building of a mosque on the ashes of the World Trade Center. I admit, I was terrified they'd be another attack in New York, and not just pissed off New Yorkers throwing their shoes at Joe Biden. (Although secretly I would have given anything to see that.)
The atmosphere around here was hot and heavy for the past week as we argued ceaselessly (I am a redhead and he is pigheaded) as to the probability of such an attack. But thank God, Allah or Daffy Duck that nothing really happened.
Unless you count: Preacher Jones' free trip to New York, sans the shoe throwing, it was too hot to barbeque in Florida anyway, and a worthless deal (worthy of any White House politician) that the 9/11 mosque would be moved to a more appropriate location by a Muslim leader associated with the project. And par for the course, Muslims squealed in protest the world over the non-existent bonfire and killed a few people just for good measure.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Dear Lord Don't Let Me Pee Myself
Coming up at the end of this month, I'll be attending the Wrangling With Writing, writer's conference in Tucson, Arizona to pitch my two finished novels, Alkonost-A Tattoo Awakens and McDracula.
Needless to say, I've queried the first one to every agent seeking paranormal and urban fantasy on the planet, but I'm not giving up yet. I've held off on the self-abuse for McDracula preferring to horde the pain and desperation inside me until it's fairly bursting to explode on the first agent to cross my path.
As the days speed by, seemingly increasing with velocity, the closer I come to the 24th, I find my stomach becoming a knot of starving nerves. I eat everything within reach, even pencil eraser is tasty these days, especially dipped in Ranch dressing. By the time I make it to the 24th I'm going to be so fat, I'm going to look like a Realtor with a glamour shot on my business card, totally unrecognizable from the original.
I'm certain I'm going to do something to totally embarrass myself, no, I'm not being fatalistic, I'm being me. I'm just hoping I don't pee myself, maybe I'll buy some of those old lady diapers before the pitch session just in case. Wish me luck.
Needless to say, I've queried the first one to every agent seeking paranormal and urban fantasy on the planet, but I'm not giving up yet. I've held off on the self-abuse for McDracula preferring to horde the pain and desperation inside me until it's fairly bursting to explode on the first agent to cross my path.
As the days speed by, seemingly increasing with velocity, the closer I come to the 24th, I find my stomach becoming a knot of starving nerves. I eat everything within reach, even pencil eraser is tasty these days, especially dipped in Ranch dressing. By the time I make it to the 24th I'm going to be so fat, I'm going to look like a Realtor with a glamour shot on my business card, totally unrecognizable from the original.
I'm certain I'm going to do something to totally embarrass myself, no, I'm not being fatalistic, I'm being me. I'm just hoping I don't pee myself, maybe I'll buy some of those old lady diapers before the pitch session just in case. Wish me luck.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Scrub Street Signs in Spanish!
As a holder of CDL Class A(Yep, I just checked, it's a Class A)I distinctly remember being required to read to and write English. And since Obama and his posse haven't been able to open the floodgates for the thousands of Mexican drivers to start rolling over fourwheelers here yet, I'd sincerely like to know why there is a sign inside New Mexico on I-10 just over the Texas line that reads, "Bascula de Camiones"?
Now, I might have mispelled that as I really didn't stop to peruse it properly, didn't want to get mistaken for one of those people actually needing to read it. I don't think I got my passport on me at the moment and spending the night in jail, for failure to prove I'm an American citizen(even a New Mexico one) isn't high on my agenda.
But with all that being said, why do you suppose that sign is necessary? I mean if you're an illegal alien cruising along I-10 in a pick-up that sign doesn't actually apply to you, but perhaps it does. Maybe that's the genius of it all. Possibly New Mexico has done some highly unscientific research and realized that an overwhelming number of illegals purchase a pickup (and that's a truck) for their first automobile. By sticking up that sign as they flee from Texas into the great state of New Mexico they slide right on in the scales behind me. The guard can then ask them a couple of questions, determine they don't have a clue what he's talking about, ask to see his papers, and voila!
The state nabs them at the border, albeit not the border they initially crossed, and saves the state unnecessary expenditures in the way of immigration enforcement.
So maybe all the whiners making a fuss over the Arizona Immigration law should really be turning their blowhards to New Mexico. Hmmmm. Genius, sheer genius.
Now, I might have mispelled that as I really didn't stop to peruse it properly, didn't want to get mistaken for one of those people actually needing to read it. I don't think I got my passport on me at the moment and spending the night in jail, for failure to prove I'm an American citizen(even a New Mexico one) isn't high on my agenda.
But with all that being said, why do you suppose that sign is necessary? I mean if you're an illegal alien cruising along I-10 in a pick-up that sign doesn't actually apply to you, but perhaps it does. Maybe that's the genius of it all. Possibly New Mexico has done some highly unscientific research and realized that an overwhelming number of illegals purchase a pickup (and that's a truck) for their first automobile. By sticking up that sign as they flee from Texas into the great state of New Mexico they slide right on in the scales behind me. The guard can then ask them a couple of questions, determine they don't have a clue what he's talking about, ask to see his papers, and voila!
The state nabs them at the border, albeit not the border they initially crossed, and saves the state unnecessary expenditures in the way of immigration enforcement.
So maybe all the whiners making a fuss over the Arizona Immigration law should really be turning their blowhards to New Mexico. Hmmmm. Genius, sheer genius.
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