Happy Halloween

Not exactly, the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown, but it's holiday greetings from YouTube just the same.

What's everyone going as tonight?

Knitting for a cause

I know some of you knit, and those who want to take up the hobby may be motivated by a good cause.

The Orphan Foundation of America (OFA) is looking for people to knit or crochet red scarves to be sent in Valentines Day care-packages for parentless college students. Scarves are accepted during the month of January, and the only real guidlines are that they have to be some shade of red and about 60" long.

The website has a pretty easy pattern to use, and any local yarn store can help with the details (if they're anything like mine, they practically give you things just for walking in there).

For more info, check out: http://www.orphan.org/red_scarf_project.html

As I told my WW group earlier, idle hands eat cookies. Knitting hands change lives. :)

Not that I've been posting much lately anyway

But I’m announcing here and now that I’m taking the month of November off from blogging and focusing my attentions on a project that I’ve always wanted to try. Namely, National Novel Writing Month.

This goal of this project is to begin and finish a 50,000-word novel between November 1 and November 30, 2006. That means an entirely new project (I’m going to have to wait until January to finish my project about Regency England), and yes, I’m a mite bit terrified. However, if I can pull this off, it will be a TREMENDOUS accomplishment, and after I spend the month of December editing, hopefully I’ll be able to really start pursuing the publishers.

A favor, please. Nothing will stress me out more than having to give updates on my progress. I’ll update you when I can, but please don’t ask how it’s going.

If you want to join in the “fun,” (I know most of you are brilliant writers!) you can sign up here: http://www.nanowrimo.org/

Good luck and happy writing!!

He...

May not get a third date as last night was a little less comfortable. He makes me laugh, and that's a good thing; but he also thinks I'm a little bit crazy thanks to my interest in the supernatural. I won't stop being interested in that particular subject, and he only got a three-year window into the entire history, but I could see the wheels turning.

There also seems to be a language barrier that I hadn't encountered before. The difference between "cuter" and "better" seemed to totally escape him. He thought my friends were talking about how they had "BETTER" undies, and I told him that they said "CUTER." I attempted to explain that BETTER implied that granny-panties and laundry-panties were in the regular rotation while CUTER was just a visual thing (hearts, flowers, polka-dots). He wasn't convinced.

We talked politics (a news story came on about NJ and gay marriage), and this is where I started to realize that the language barrier was a deeper issue than just polka-dots and granny-panties. Though he claims to be a Democrat, he kept insisting that gays should have the same rights as a married couple, but we should call the marriage something else. You know, to distinguish it from a "real marriage." I told him that the entire issue was based upon the fact that all the people who were suing in NJ wanted was a "real marriage," and for it to be recognized as such. Another "separate but equal" status was a little reminiscent of the 60s and the bigotry that existed in this country at that time.

Who said I couldn't formulate a good argument about issues that are really important?

I'm not 100% sure that he's not going to get a third. I'm not 100% sure that he is, either. We'll see.

Fantasy Baseball?

Sorry, no.

Baseball season has ended. For the O's fans, it ended around June 15; for the Mets fans, it ended with a guy striking out looking in the bottom of the 9th. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Either way, I'm not watching the World Series.

What I'm talking about here, kids, is Fantasy Congress. For those of you, like me, who get most of your daily news from Jon Stewart, hold firm to the belief that Bradley Whitford should still be running the White House instead of a SNL-knock-off, and spend campaign season figuring out ways to play drinking games while the election results are returned (check my blog for details about that), this game is perfect!

Even if you don't know anything about politics, you could always do what I did for Fantasy Football...pick a team based on name recognition and cuteness factor. To review: John McCain = IN (name recognition), Barbara Mikulski = OUT (cuteness factor). Either way, it should be an
interesting way to learn a little more about how a Bill becomes a Law than what the singing piece of paper taught us in 5th grade.

I've set up a league, and I'm inviting you all to join in. Like everything else in life these days, it's pretty darn simple:

1. Log on to the Fantasy Congress website: www.fantasycongress.org
2. Join the League: "StewartColbert 08" (owner mdsnbelle) with the
password "channel64."
3. Draft your team.
4. Sit back and watch as the points are determined.

To make it fair, I'm not going to activate the league until Election Day. Congress should be close to being back for their Lame Duck (otherwise known as the "I've got two weeks left, so screw it all") Session, and the game should be running in real time at that point. In the meantime: sign up, talk a little smack, and let's figure out if we're playing for bragging rights or something a little more substantive.

The invite is wide open.

Meet the Mets

Most of you know how the story ended last night, the NY Mets held off the St. Louis Cardinals until the last inning of the 7th Game of the NLCS. Then, with a single homerun, the Cards scored the two winning runs and the final Met struck out LOOKING at the ball.

Note to all ballplayers attempting a career in the majors: if you've been watching an umpire call a wild strike zone all night, you're known as a "home-run hitter," bases are loaded, you're two runs down, and there are two outs at the end of the ninth inning...YOU ALWAYS SWING AT THE BALL!

But that's the way the story ended. Now, let me tell you how it began.

It all started in a cow pasture in Cooperstown, NY. The year was 1839, and the bases were steaming piles of....

Eh, maybe we should skip forward a little.

The story I want to tell you is how I, a lifelong O's fan with a minor affinity for the Mets (thanks to the Tidewater Norfolk Tides being their farm team) ended up at Shea Stadium with a boy from college and 35k people having what can best be described as a group therapy session.

That is, of course, if group therapy is supposed to be a good thing.

It all started Tuesday night when I accepted a drinks-date with Jeff. Just a casual thing that was a bit of a relief after the whole Friday night minor-drama.

Wednesday, I called Ben to get his email address for a friend who's looking for a new job (she's fabulous if you're hiring). While we were on the phone, he mentioned the game. Granted, we weren't sure there was even going to be a Game 7, but, like me, Ben likes to keep his options open. Long story short, there was a Game 7.

This then posed an "interesting" problem for me. See, while I had accepted the ticket to the game (and I had promised to pay for it), I didn't have:

1. A place to stay in NYC
2. The necessary time off of work
3. Any clue how I was going to get out of my date with Jeff.

Problem #2 was the easiest to manage. I walked out of the office, promised my boss I'd make up the time I needed, and scored his agreement that I could work from "home" today. Yes, I'm in NY and my sister's firewall isn't exactly letting me get into the files that I need to actually accomplish anything, but my coworker sent me a few things, and I'm doing a lot of thinking. That works, right?

Problem #3 also seemed easy. I sent Jeff this fabulous little email saying that while I'd totally love to go out with him, it was a once in a lifetime (I'm an O's fan, remember) opportunity that I couldn't pass up. I figured it he was any sort of a guy I wanted to see again, he'd go along with it. And he did.

Problem #1 proved to be the hardest. Julia is committed to not having her house turned into "Hotel Charles," and while I respect that, I do have an open invitation from her fabulous roommate. The problem, however, was Ben. Julia didn't know who he was (she does now), and didn't want him staying at the house. Since I couldn't find a place for him to stay, the whole plan was almost abandoned. Which caused a couple of emails to be sent back to Jeff.

• Email #1: Was the one I mentioned earlier.
• Email #2: Was the one I asked Julia to send when she told me that Ben couldn't stay and then Ben decided that it would probably be "easier" if we bagged the trip altogether. I don't have access to my Gmail, so I thought I'd see if I could reschedule with Jeff.
• Email #3: Was the one Julia sent after I convinced her Ben could stay. I needed to cancel again (obviously).

Truth be told, I probably was better off staying in Baltimore. See, every time I get together with Ben, he forgets that we're not dating and tries to get me to kiss him. He's a nice guy, but NO. And the more he throws himself at me, the more that I realize that I want nothing to do with him. I'm going to give him a cooling-off period and then contact him around Christmas.

Funniest part of the evening happened on the train on the way home. Gotta love that post-game zone-out, right? I was sandwiched between a bunch of boys on the 7 when one of them starts bitching about it not being an "Express Train." I turn around and go, "There is no express train; there is only ZOOOOL." Didn't realize I was being loud, but apparently I was. Look for me, on Overheard in NY sometime this fall.

So, kids, no more baseball until the spring. Since the Mets, the O's and the Red Sox are completely out of it, there's no reason to watch the Series. I'll be back in February with a new Baseball Blog, so stay tuned!

BW3

I just heard this lady in my office talking about BW3 opening up in
Maryland. Assuming it was in Baltimore, I immediately started craving
wings. Not sure why, because I don't particularly like wings, but these
are different. Since, I can't make it down to the 'Burg this weekend,
I'm assuming that something in my subconscious saw it as the next best
thing.

So, I checked the website, and it turns out that the closest BW3 is
actually in Westminster. This is 23 miles away. Do I drive 23 miles
for wings? Something tells me that I shouldn't, but somehow I think
that this fall I'm going to find myself doing just that.

Halloween

My friend, Jen, is having her Bachelorette Party on Halloween weekend, so we're all going out in costumes.

I'm trying this on sometime this week. If it fits, I am SO wearing this....

Some Friday Nights

Are just meant to be forgotten. Like, well last Friday night.

Friday night, a friend of my friend's boyfriend (right, that makes us absolutely nothing) had this singles happy hour. So, a couple of us went and, as expected, it was full of attached people. One guy, Mike, seemed nice, so the friend with the boyfriend kept pushing me towards him. To the point that the whole group of us went to dinner.

So, while we were at the restaurant, Kristen's boyfriend (also-Mike) got a phone call. Turned out his friend, Jeff, was at the restaurant and he'd love to stop by the table. Jeff turned the corner, and I died. Bring out the dancing dolls...Jeff was the same guy from Tuesday night. That's right, kids, It's a Small World after all.

Got through a semi-awkward dinner, and after reviewing the potential fall-out, I think I'm relatively ok. I hope. Either way, it made for interesting conversation at Football on Saturday morning

At least until we saw the Jesus-man dragging the gigantic cross (with a wheel of course) across Patterson Park.

We're all going to hell, and I think Ryan's driving the minivan.

Am I the only one

Who thinks that the plane crash yesterday in NYC was less of an accident and more of a suicide? I've got practically no evidence to support it, but I've just got this nagging feeling that all is not as as it seems in this case.

2006 Election Night Drinking Game: The Rules

As promised, the rules to the 2006 Election Night Drinking Game!

The rules are fairly simple, and even a Macaca could probably figure this out. No, not THAT Macaca, as he's probably sitting drinking a beer at a victory party somewhere (plus, frankly, that word is mean), but the monkey itself.

The Basics: Pick a channel and a Party (Democratic, Republican, Independent, Whigs only if you're into that kind of stuff) and stick with it through all contested national elections. For the locals, just stick with who you voted for. Drink once if your guy wins, twice if he loses.

Simple right? I thought so. Now, in addition to the basic rules, drink once for each of these events:

• A state result is called with less than 20% of the precincts reporting.* (Drink twice every time the results are switched after that point)
• Anyone in your viewing party suggests turning on Jon Stewart instead.
• The channel you're watching misidentifies the Party of a candidate/major player (Chug if it's NOT Fox News)
• Any of the people I named drinks after "lose" their jobs (use that unknown guy who took Foley's place for his).
• You hear any network banter/stump speech that sounds like it was ripped off from The West Wing.
• Some actor/musician/celebreskeleton grants an in-studio interview in an effort to sound more "political-like" (Drink twice it's neither Bono nor a Baldwin, Chug if it's Paris or Nicole).

Finish your drinks if either of these happen (you'll need it):

• Someone makes it through a speech without mentioning Iraq or 9/11.
• The Republicans retain control of Congress.

All lawsuits, hanging chads, and wacky voting machines aside, the winner is the last man standing at the end of the night. If no one is standing, understand that that's probably because the Republicans are still in charge (because, really, who's not going to make a speech referencing Iraq or 9/11 these days?). After waking yourself up and discovering that no, in fact, it's not a dream start planning your move to Canada. I hear the Molson's delicious, eh?

* Just so we're clear, this is a personal pet peeve of mine!

The perils of a first date in a hotel bar

First, the basics...cute, smart, well traveled, only child. There were
a few nit-picky details that I thought were a little strange, but I'd
give this guy another shot.

The date started at 8:30, at a hotel bar. This is a nice bar, in a
nice part of town but I'm still confused a little as to why, with so
many options available, he would still choose a hotel bar. Get your
minds out of the gutter, people, I'm sure that that didn't cross his
mind going in!

Anywhoo, the conversation ranged from Europe to accents to in-breeding.
Apparently, he has this idea that Virginians marry young. I say that it
prevents in-breeding because when you're of a certain age in Virginia,
the only options available to you tend to be those family members who
haven't yet crossed the threshold into marriage. I, of course, was
joking, but sadly, I think he thinks I was serious (again with the
nit-picky details). Yipes!

For the record: No, I didn't share any stories about certain friends of
mine whose cousins are now dating each other (though as an aside to
anyone who doesn't know the story -- and I'm not outing my friend -- the
boy's from her dad's side, the girl's from her mom's side and my friend
is the common link between the two). I could have, but I didn't.

Around 9:30, I was ready to call it a night. We had talked for an hour,
had a good time and a few laughs, and I was confident in that I had made
enough of an impression that he'd be clamoring for another date by the
weekend.

Mike, however, had other plans.

For those of you who are thinking, "Mike? I thought she went out with a
guy named 'Jeff'! Is she using aliases again?" Yes, I was and no, I'm
not. Mike is the businessman from Chicago who basically hijacked the
date because he was "bored," wanted to "chat," and that's what people do
in a hotel bar when you're hundreds of miles from home and there's
alcohol involved. So, he opened his mouth and then wouldn't shut the
hell up. Over the course of the next 90 minutes, we heard about his
kids, his business, Mayor Daly, real estate, and social security.
Money, kids, and politics, of course, are all topics you never want to
talk about on a first date. Thanks to Mike, we covered them all. Gee,
thanks, RANDOM STRANGER!! Worse, I had mentally shut down at 9:30, so
my contributions to the conversation, though at times impassioned,
didn't always make a whole lot of sense.

So much for the good impression.

Basically, I don't know where I stand with this guy (Jeff, not Mike --
Mike, I'm pretty sure, liked me quite a bit). I'll do the "thanks for
the lovely time email" tonight and then I'll hope that he judged me on
the first half of the evening, not the second half of the verbal
threesome. If I passed, I'll be picking the next location.

And, believe you me, it won't be a hotel bar.

2006 Election Night Drinking Game: The Drinks

Stock up on that vodka, gin, rum, and mixers...Election Day is almost here!

The drinking game is coming, but first you'll need the drinks. Depending on what side you're on, you'll need a different set of supplies. For extra fun, make sure to order the drinks by their "official Beltway Names!"

The drinks are real, guaranteed to make a 16 year old page do all sorts of dirty, dirty things*, and can all be found in The Bartender's Black Book: Fourth Edition. I'm going to make you buy the book yourself, but to make it almost as easy as Monica or the people advertising "random encounters" on Craigslist (You know who you are!), I gave you the page numbers.

Go forth, stock up on booze, check back for the drinking game, and add your own suggestions in the comments!

Drinks for Republicans

• American Sour (9)
• George W. Bush - Artificial Intelligence (11)
• Michael Brown - Hurricane (58)**
• Mark Foley - Wanna Probe Ya (132)
• Condi Rice - PMS (93)
• Dennis Hastert - Dark Secret (33)
• Katherine Harris - Banshee (13)
• Dick Cheney - Shot in the Dark (110)
• Scooter Libby - Spy's Demise (116)
• George Allen - White Baby (135)

Drinks for Democrats

• Betsy Ross (15)
• Bill Clinton - Banging the Captain 3 ways on the Comforter (13) (also known as a Gary Condit and a Ted Kennedy)
• Hillary Clinton - Empire State Slammer (38)
• John Kerry - 38th Parallel Coffee (123) (also known as a John McCain)
• Patrick Kennedy - Smooth Driver (113)
• Cynthia McKinney - Skull Cracker (111)
• Nancy Pelosi - California Mother (26)
• Bob Woodward - Deep Throat (34) (also known as a Monica Lewinsky)
  

* Not that I'm suggesting that you make a 16 year old page do dirty, dirty things. Clearly, that sort of behavior is reserved for members of Congress and people who obviously don't watch Dateline NBC. If you're going to make someone do dirty, dirty things, make sure that they're at least 18. I'm just saying...

** And if you didn't see that one coming, I'm sure there's a job opening at FEMA for you in Emergency Preparedness...

My sister makes me laugh

For the record, it hasn't been 4 months.

I accepted a date for tonight, and since my friends always complain that I don't provide details, I decided to issue a "Personal Press Release" just so that everyone's in the loop.

It was clear, concise, and included all of the pertinent information. However, leave it to my personal publicist to edit the release in such a way that she better be glad that I can run fast in heels -- especially since I had downed 96 ounces of water by 10 AM!

Her take on my "event" tonight:

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
10.10.06

(Baltimore, MD)—Lindsay F., 28, Single Girl Extraordinaire, today announces relief in her four-month dating drought, with the acceptance of a dinner date from “Jeff.” Jeff (last name withheld), 33, is a Project Manager from Baltimore. The date will take place tonight. For privacy reasons, the would-be couple has withheld the location of the date and asks the paparazzi to refrain from seeking them out.

Ms. F. expressed excitement about the upcoming event, releasing this brief statement: “Thank God Jeff came along. I was about ready to request famine relief aid from Brad and Angelina. I’m going in with an open mind and a cute skirt.”
# # #

EDITOR’S NOTE: Full review and photography will be released tomorrow on Ms. F’s blog http://drama-duchess.blogspot.com/ :)

The publicist got it wrong, no photos are coming. As for the review, we'll just have to see about that, won't we?

The Internet is for...

Just in case you've forgotten, here's two reminders of what the Internet is REALLY for.

The Drunk Guy wishing QVC a Very Happy Anniversary


The Computer Animation

I should be too old for this...

But, apparently, I'm not.

Sometimes I wish I had just sucked it up, kept the relationship that I had my senior year alive, gone on to marry the guy, and hopped out of the dating pool. Sure, he spent more time with the professors in his PhD program than with me, and he had at least three more years in Blacksburg before we could move back to civilization, but I'm pretty sure we could have been happy for at least a few years before I killed him.

Alas, I didn't. And now I fear I'm stuck with the rejects from the shallow end.

Case in point, I'm back on one of those popular online sites (sorry, I'm not going to say which one), and I keep getting emails from people I know/dated in the past. This is a particular problem for me because, as we've discussed, I seem to attract a lot of "Georges," and therefore, being on these sites seems to encourage the "I always loved you from afar" type of emails that make the existing relationship difficult. Seriously, guys, if you didn't ask when it was free, what makes you think that the fact that I'm a paying member changes anything? If you had the crush, and you didn't open your mouth before now, please don't assume my appearance on an online site is any indication that I'm seeking you out specifically.

There should be a rule that says that even if an ex/friend/coworker is "introduced" to you by the system, you get a free pass to ignore it. The system can use all the algorithms in the world to tell you who you could be attracted to, but it'll never be able to tell who you've already befriended or rejected. There's a human element involved and, assuming that you actually ARE a human, only the two of you can be equipped to make the decisions necessary to ignore the computer's attempts at matchmaking.

Considering what the computer has sworn I'd be interested in, in the past (twice-divorced, two kids, no education), the human element is extremely important. Just trust me on this one.

Exceptions to this rule do exist and include a) people I haven't seen in way too long, b) people who have been on extreme makeover or won the lottery in the last few months, or c) the ex-boyfriend who dumped me when I was fat and now that I'm skinny is looking to reconnect.

Anyone who falls into the "C" category, however, does so at his own risk. The second that I realize that you're superficial enough to only want me back because I'm less of a woman than the one you remember, revenge is mine. And, if this blog is any indication of how snarky I can be when crossed, you've been duly warned.

The problem, however, is that when I haven't been crossed or loaded up on a few glasses of wine and some painkillers (like now -- gym accident, don't ask), I come across as a very sweet little gal, who most men interpret as being interested, when I'm simply being friendly. I think it has something to do with the fact that my military upbringing required me to make friends fast. Therefore, when I see someone hanging on the edge of a group, I work to bring them in. If they're a guy and they've got any sort of self-esteem problem at all, this usually brings problems for me in the form of emails, phone calls, and cyber-stalking (even when the only way they've gotten my information is from group emails or tricking another friend into giving it up). However, knowing how frustrating it can be to be on the outside looking in, I can't help it.

But back to the boys on the random internet dating sites. Most guys don't get how much of a problem this can be, but now that most of the sites feature that whole "who peeked at your profile" feature, it makes things just a little awkward.

Like today. Today, I was on the site when I came across a profile name that looked a little familiar. Couldn't place it, so I opened the profile. It was an acquaintance I haven't seen in a few years. Nice guy, but I was never really attracted to him. Lots of reasons, that I can't really remember right now, though. As soon as I realized who it was, I closed the profile. No messages, no winking, no harm done, right?

Wrong. Even though I always try to do my cyber-stalking offline (saves on the heartache when I come across a hot ex or I want to anonymously check out a profile with a spectacularly bad picture), I kinda wasn't. Within minutes of me leaving the profile, the boy emailed me asking if I wanted to have a drink. All because he saw that I had checked him out. But I didn't. I checked out the profile, but I spent less than 30 seconds on the profile because I realized who it was as soon as I opened the profile. Unfortunately, the online system never tells the guy how long I spent on the profile, just that I did.

Aside to anyone who works for one of those sites, that would be a fabulous enhancement!

So, now I find myself walking the fine line of sucking it up and going for the sake of going (thus encouraging something that has a snowballs chance) or letting him down as easy as I can without making it too terribly awkward on the off-chance I run into him at a later date. Though I seriously haven't seen him in over a year, this is a smaller town than you'd think. Believe me, it could happen.

I should be too old for this crap.

But, apparently, I'm not.

I talk good, I'm Microsoft Word

At our book exchange the other day, I picked up this fantastically funny book called Grammar Snobs are Great Big Meanies. I'm sure there's some punctuation that I'm missing in there, but really I don't care right now.

The book is all about the rules of grammar, but surprisingly, it's not the dry read that anyone who survived high school English would expect. The author is funny as hell, and thanks to her I'm paying more and more attention to the grammar in my work documents. The blog, however, is more of a stream of consciousness and will not be grammatically correct unless it happens by accident.

Not that you needed to know that.

As part of my continued efforts, I turned the Microsoft Word grammar-checker back on to catch anything that my careful reading didn't.

Imagine my surprise, therefore, when I got this as a correction...

I've seen some bad grammar in my day, but I'm not sure I've ever seen anything THIS bad. Especially from a program that's supposed to be helping a person ensure that his or her grammar is correct.

We've heard complaints about the spell-checker, so as a warning to the high school students who happen to find this blog, I say this: STAY AWAY FROM MARK FOLEY . DO NOT TRUST THE GRAMMAR CHECKER!!

That am all.

Best Laid Plans

Thank God, I didn't start taking my clothes off.

Since I have a Jaycees meeting tonight, I thought it would be a great idea to stay late at work, hit the gym, and then go straight to the meeting. I'd get points for being a dedicated employee, do something great for my bod, and save a little gas going back and forth. Right?

Right.

I swore I had everything...even running back to the house to grab my HRM. So imagine my surprise when I get to the gym, reach into the bag for my shorts and nothing.

The guy at the desk thought it was a little strange that I clocked a grand total of five minutes in the gym this morning, but when I told him that I didn't really feel like being arrested, we both got a great abs workout.

So, I started driving away when I almost hit a 10-year old on a bike who had stopped in the middle of my lane (he was traveling in the other direction) to pick something up that had dropped. The object that had dropped? A cigarette. I honked my annoyance, he flipped me the bird, stuck the ciggy in his mouth, and biked away. A few years from now, that kid'll be suing Phillip Morris. He'll probably win too.

So, now I'm sitting at the library, typing away on my book and dealing with people reading over my shoulder. Really, if you want to read what I write so damn much, ask for the blog address. Otherwise, don't interrupt me mid-stream while I'm trying to type.

It's just rude.

O'Reilly needs to be shot

Along with Dennis Hastert, Tom Reynolds, and of course Mark Foley.

Why? Because, suspiciously, O'Reilly labeled pedophile-former-Congressman as a DEMOCRAT not once, not twice, but three times during his broadcast last night.

He should be attacking the congressman for his vile behavior; instead, he blames gay Americans (because Foley is now hiding behind the "I'm a gay American and that's what caused me to do this" excuses) and Priests/Pastors/Rabbis for "abusing Foley himself as a teenager."

Sure. I'll believe that when you show me hard statistics that every gay man in America is a pedophile and every pedophile in America is a gay man. But I guess that the second part of the statement, that "Mr. Foley is not offering any excuse" for the behavior should be interpreted that the admissions and accusations offered yesterday were provided for no more than informational purposes and should not be interpreted as any type of excuse. Right, right?

Mr. Foley, for the record, if you're going to claim that you were abused by a man of the cloth, it helps to actually be able to identify what denomination your abuser was. Of course, if he's still preaching, it shows that you weren't really doing your job, doesn't it?

For the record, Foley isn't a Democrat. He's a Republican. Usually, that shouldn't matter when such a sick individual has been charged with protecting our children and fail miserably (Chris Hansen doesn't include the "for the record what party are you registered to?" question when he's shocking predators on Dateline); however, when the sicko involved has been tasked with and commended by our President for his efforts to PROTECT CHILDREN, it matters. It matters a lot.

As for Hastert and Reynolds, they should have raked Foley across the coals (he probably would have liked that) as soon as they learned about the IMs. Instead, they covered it up -- much like the churches that shuffled priests from parish to parish. You can't shuffle a congressman, you can only cover up his behavior. Right?

They also fed the story that the Page program should be disbanded. If that's not a way to blame the victim, I don't know what is. It's like telling a mother: "Gee, sorry Mrs. Doe, I didn't mean to abuse your two year old. It was just that she looked so sexy in that diaper." How fucking sick is that!!??!!??

When even the most conservative newspapers in the country are calling for your resignation, it's time to go. To jail. Do not collect $200, do not keep the money you already collected. Mark Foley was caught with a live boy and resigned. Dennis Hastert and Tom Reynolds were caught with the same live boy and should face the same fate. The money raised by Foley should go straight to a Hurricane Katrina charity (because the IM victim was from that region), the Amish Community (who lost their little girls to a pedophile like Foley) or to a charity for victims of pedophilia. It should NOT go back into the coffers of the Republicans who knew about the abuses and hid them.

O'Reilly isn't the only one who's been hiding information about Hastert's involvement. ABC News and the Washington Post both changed stories after initial postings. Those stories initially mentioned Hastert's involvement, and both had quotes that changed to something that wasn't as clear. Check out the Daily Kos for that info.

So, I'm fully expecting that the next move for Camp Foley is to claim that the abuses extended only to the inappropriate IMs. IMs, incidentally, that were so "inappropriate" that if Charlie Gibson had read them aloud during World News Tonight, he would have been slapped with FCC Fines out the wazoo.

I don't buy that.

Maf54: I miss you lots since san diego.

What the hell happened?

Photos of beauty and tranquility

I blame it on Rockwell.

Thanks to the holiday yesterday, I had the opportunity to work from home. A few hours in, I was starting to get the idea that I should take advantage of the spectacular weather and head out of town to take a few snapshots of the beauty, peacefulness, and tranquility that is the Amish way of life. Yes, you read that right, I said Amish.

After all, I thought, those 80-degree October days don't come around that often, and it so sunny and clear. The way I saw it, I couldn't really resist.

It was a great plan, so I don't really know why I didn't complete it. I downloaded the directions to Lancaster County and got my stuff together, but I never actually got in the car. Instead, at around 10 AM, I sat back down and kept typing away on my work project.

Three hours later, I learned that I just would have been in the way. Yesterday was anything but a quiet day in Amish Country. Five little girls are dead, five little girls are clinging to life because some madman saw them as easy targets.

I was planning a trip to Amish country for photos of peace and tranquility. Now, all I can do is pray for that peace for the families and the recovery of those who were spared initially.