Pansies make horrible political debaters. I would know. I am one.
Yesterday, I posted on Twitter how I was "pro" SB1070.
Although I read the bill itself and was driven to my sway by personal repeat victimizations, I failed to see the potential. The potential liberties that may be taken with the law in place.
After a great chat, with a great lady, I decided to really explain it instead of listing the names of those who have victimized me and saying "I'm pro." (Seriously?! How much of a brain fart can one suffer in one fell swoop?!)
Do I agree with the mess this particular bill might cause? No. Way.
Do I think that officers will now feel entitled to approach Hispanic individuals and ask for their papers? Some may. Most won't. I believe that if they have ever felt so inclined before the passing of the law to take advantage of their position as an officer of the law, they would have acted as such or sought "probable cause" to obtain the information. This bill protects the corruption of some, which I firmly DO NOT agree with.
Do I think that employers and employees need an intervention? HELL YES! People working without their own documentation has been the source of nine years of heartache and turmoil for me. I'm dating myself with this, but that means that before I even left middle school, I was "failing to pay taxes" to the states of Arizona and Florida and the IRS. Now, this is an issue, that will be most effectively resolved if addressed within the SSA by way of federal government intervention, but Arizona (and in one personal instance Florida) employers, until a "higher seat" takes action, need local law enforcement. I can't tell you how many police reports and phone numbers and hold music songs I know by heart. Information you should need to look up, not have memorized.
That sort of pins my stance. I am in favor of the provisions that include local law enforcement investigating companies who have failed to confirm illegal immigrant employees as eligible to work. When they E-Verify and receive a "Yo, this person is not who they say they are!" they should be held responsible for processing that employees "information" through the company's payroll system and far enough into the government records for different branches to recognize them.
When I was on AHCCCS health insurance, was it really necessary for me to have to mail a letter every other week to the DES office contesting a "We've recently been informed you have started a term of employment with {Insert Company Typically Requiring Manual Labor Workers}"? That's not an exaggeration either. Every. Other. Week. Right after I gave birth to a human and had more important things to focus my attentions on than reprinting another letter. Exactly why I finally threw my hands up and opted out of any sort of insurance coverage for a year.
So I retract my statement. I'm anti-SB1070. I am, however, in favor of a bill crafted to address the massive employment fail that has infested this state. Or, if someone wanted to give me a job that required me NOT to particularly live in Arizona to effectively uphold the offered position, I'd be fine with that too.
I'm not racist, I'm a victim.
Also, I'm really great at timing and personal judgment. *cough cough*
Be back soon...
Battle Royale: Coke vs Diet Coke
Coke is disgusting. Diet Coke is delicious.
This battle is an easy win for Diet Coke. Especially when you look at things that are the same when you compare them (or whatever literary terminology is used for these sorts of things. metaphors? similes? onomatopoeia?) like:
Coke is to Diet Coke, as Hungarian wombat urine is to the sweet nectar of life.
or...
Coke is to Diet Coke, as Richard Simmons' work-out shorts are to Brad Pitt's nut-huggers.
or...
Coke is to Diet Coke, as anorexic vampires are to tangible real-life, grown-up, sexy men.
or...
Coke is to Diet Coke, as that other Corey who went to Funkytown on drugs is to Corey Feldman. (too soon?)
Coke may have been "the original", but at the tastebud party in my mouth, it's the second-rate wannabe to the sparkly rockstar, humbly, nay, graciously, known as Sir Diet Coke.
lia sophia Jewelry Party
Welcome to the lia sophia jewelry show webcast!
To join in the fun, simply select the"Open Bigger Screen" icon under the video.
Login with your Stickam account or create a username just for this show.
Interested in placing an order? Head here and enter my name, Jessi Sanfilippo, to access the online catalog. My party will close at the end of the evening, so please place orders accordingly.
Dawn also represents lia sophia in California and Texas. If you aren't able to join in tonight, but are interested in having a contact or booking a show of your own, please leave a comment or send me an email at jess@shuggilippo.com and I will be happy to pass along your contact information.
lia sophia Jewelry Party Webshow
There are still a lot of you who have to send your unfortunate regrets for tomorrow's lia sophia Jewelry party which saddens me because I know how much we can all use some time away from the kids, husband, job, and house upkeep for a night of laughs with the girls. Obviously.
To solve all of your woes about missing a hot opp to kick it old school, drool over jewelry, and stuff your face with some satanic food before swimsuit season workouts really kick into overdrive, Dawn and I have decided to do a webcast of the party. How fun right?! You'll be able to join in via chat and even ask video questions if you're brave! Hooray for technology!
I will be posting the link for the live show on Facebook, Twitter, and right here for you to join us. The webcast will begin at 6:45pm, MST (9:45pm, EST sorry east coasters) so anyone having technical difficulties, can be all set when 7pm rolls around.
A neat thing about Dawn is that she travels and holds shows not only in Arizona, but also in California and Texas. Which is stellar because I know lots of you are off yonder in CA and TX. *waves hello to the beach bums and cowgals* This means, if you're interested in hosting a party of your own, you can book through her and she'll travel to present...and you didn't even have to physically attend a party to do so. I think that's pretty rad. Just sayin'.
Even if you're not interested in buying any jewelry (which would be cool if you did though) or hosting a party of your own, please join us Tomorrow (4/14) from 6:45pm-9:00pm to check out some awesome product and watch me stuff my face with those devil foods I spoke of earlier. Because, in all honesty, that's what you're going to tune in for anyway...a pre-menstrual binge...right? I would.
Kindly pee in this bowl, please and thank you.
We're fast approaching the 27 month mark and I haven't even attempted potty training Nugget.
Thought about it? Sure.
Researched potties? Absolutely. (But, then I got side tracked by something shiny like a multi-functional can opener that also serves as an alley-fight weapon, orange peeler, and nose picker.)
Now? I'm sort of more serious. Serious enough to even request a potty training DVD from the wonderful people at Huggies. A video that Nugget seems to have taken an unnatural liking to. Read: he wants to watch it over his Thomas videos.
All of the questions start flooding in now. Don't boys stand when they pee? If I teach him to sit to pee, will he end up a fruity-tooty fairy boy? These are the important questions people. Not "How will I clean up the pee that misses the potty?" or "Will I have more laundry to do everyday with the bed-wetting?" Pfffft! Cockafooey!
So, the hunt is on for the perfect little potty to get us started. I'm keeping an eye on Target, but will gladly accept the tips you moms'o'boys have on getting the dude to drop the drawers, do his deed, and carry on with all of his dudely duties. Dude.
*The Big Kid Central DVD is available for anyone. I was not provided the video per any arrangement with Huggies. Also, I just love Target to pieces, (you should know this by now) and just love giving them mad props.
It's like Wonka's factory, 'cept I just wanna drop kick all the Oompa-Loompas.
There is an epidemic that, I have unfortunately just realized, has infected my life. And not so much in the good kind of way where I wake up to bluebirds singing outside of my window and a puppy with a big red bow on its head is following behind a man servant graciously delivering my breakfast in bed.
"Friendship". The quotations speak volumes.
I've made it a habit to create excuses for why people just don't care to hang. "We live too far away." "I have a kid now." "I'm just not a single lady anymore." "I don't see them at work everyday like I used to."
They were all a pathetic illusion masterminded by my, well, mind, neurosis included. Except, lately, I've discovered that it really is not so much me as it is them. If I'm invited, I show up. If I'm asked, I answer. If I'm needed, I'm there. If I'm not needed, I see if there's the slightest possibility that I could be needed in some way or another.
When the tables are turned. Forget about.
Now I know, because I've heard it A LOT from the defenders lately, that there are "sucky people everywhere." This I firmly believe. Shitbags exist no matter where you live. But, BUT (now, that's a big but people and we all know I don't have one of those things...period) personally knowing upwards of THIRTY shitbags makes for poor odds on the defending turf. Really poor odds actually.
I've grown up here. All through school and now coming up on six years post school. I was very social all growing up. Parties, sleepovers, extracurricular activities. Life was good, fun, filled with friendship and fairies skipping merrily from tulip to tulip as sprites played pan flutes.
Then, something happened, like a big force field developed around me that warned approaching people, "Don't even think that I would want anything to do with a reciprocated social life now that these days are over! Seriously, back off, or I will cut you with this homemade shiv!"
I lived behind the excuses, and then one day it smacked me upside the face like a sack of rusty nails. "Woman, you haven't changed, they haven't changed, now you just, well, know."
To have offers from my readers who transitioned quickly into friends, to fly out for a weekend girl's night, but not have even a single person that wants to grab a drink, hit the stores, check out a movie, come to your party, that blows the smoke of "we need to get together more often" up your ass any off chance they do bump into you, that's just bad people. And I'm done with it.
Now I don't want your defense or an "I'm sorry I've been a bad friend, I've just been busy/sick/{insert lame excuse}" I want you to know that I'm just plain over it. I'm done trying to vie for something that is obviously not a shared desire. I'm done depending on you for something you say you're willing to bring to the table, but always fail to. At this point, we're all adults. I don't need to spend my time wondering, when I already know. You suck, and I'm done. If you get sorely offended by this, then you're guilty of it. You are most likely the person I've been there for who needed someone through a tough time, or needed people to come to something to help them qualify for something else, or wanted free tickets to something, or there just really wasn't anything better to do, so, I guess since I text you that one time like 2 weeks ago, I'll probably be able to hang with you.
I'm ready to leave. I'm ready to get out of Arizona where the douchebaggery runs high, and the fallacy boggles me. To head places where at least if I'm lonely and bored, it's because I don't know anyone and not that I know a bunch of lame-a-zoids. I feel better. I feel better having been honest, unlike so many I "know".
Be honest. Try it out. I dare you.
Excuse me, you're daughter is choking my son...
Playground Politics.
I've never encountered them before.
The mother's I meet are typically well aware of their childrens' actions and they themselves are friendly, kind, and talkative.
This was not the case when Nugget and I ventured to the park yesterday afternoon.
Per usual, Nugget was the only little boy on the playground. (Um, mom's of boys, what the hell is up with that?! I mean seriously? Mini-dudes LOVE to slide down the slide and give you heartattacks climbing up metal ladders! Was I the only one who got this memo in Arizona?!) He doesn't yet grasp the reality of this heaven he plays in whenever we go the playground, thank goodness, but boy is it cute to see him flirt. it. up.
There were two little girls, Tessa and Bella, who were obviously brought together at the park this day for the benefit of their mothers. Now, we tend to hang out at parks in a more affluent area of town because of its proximity to Husfriend's office, and mostly on days we have the truck and closing time is fast approaching. That means it is always around 4:00pm. In the late afternoon. On weekdays. I never see anyone in these areas who are unkempt, slubby, frumpy, or the likes because it is a see and be seen sort of spot. ESPECIALLY at the playground. I kid you not high heels ladies and gentleman. *eye roll* The two moms, were obviously "free spirited" women from what I overheard of their conversations. "Tessa wants nothing to do with a protein-rich diet." Actually I think you mean your daughter doesn't like damn chicken nuggets. We are NOT in your pediatrician's office, no one is impressed with your textbook dialogue. Irregardless, they looked like slobs. One of them was even wearing, wait for it, a fanny pack. Gah! And not like a Gucci leather "waist purse". I'm talking, nineteen-ninety-called-and-they-want-their-fashion-fad-back fanny pack. I'm not always dressed to the nines, AROUND THE HOUSE!
I took a break from eave's dropping and eye rolling to pay attention to my child. My child who was, in that very moment, being choked from behind by peanut butter hating Tessa. I waited a second to see if Nugget would do a swift one-two punch (which I would have been immensely proud of) or if he looked as if he needed some help on this one. He needed some help. I kindly intervened by saying, "Okay, now how about we let him go down the slide and then you can show me how fast you can go down the slide." Tessa's mom, probably from hearing all of the parental interaction going on in the general direction of her child, stomps her way over to ask "what I think I'm doing." Snarky. Very, very snarky. To which, I ever so kindly replied, "She was choking him and wouldn't let him go down the slide. I was just helping them play a little more nicely." She shot back and I swear on everything holy there were laser beams coming out of her eyeballs, "Tessa would NEVER do something like that!"
News flash primadonna in your faded ass black yoga pants you bought at Target last week on clearance for $6.84, apparently, she is into that sort of thing. Good luck with that come puberty.
With a pleasant close mouthed smile, Nugget and I made our way onto the other side of the playset to go down the big windy slide that he loves so much. All of the other little girls, Bella, Tessa's friend, included where playing on this slide. I was shocked and appalled at what I saw next. Bella, in all of her lady-likeness that she obviously got from her mother who must have forgotten her underpants that day, was de-pantsing the other girls and loudly exclaiming, "I can see your pagina!" The other little girls kept yelling at her to "stop that" because "they don't like that". Bella's mom, from across the playground, yells, "Bella, please don't do that." once. ONCE. ONE SINGLE TIME! Not long after she received her Mother of the Year Award, I overhear her saying, "Her father teaches her the most horrible things." Uh...in or out of the context of the situation, I think they might have bigger problems on their hands with this behavior. But, I mean, who am I to say? I'm just a fellow mother. Who quite frankly finds the actions and your lack there of in response to said actions disgustingly inappropriate.
Bella continued to flash other kids "paginas" for a good 5 minutes because, by proclamation of her mother, she had "five more mintues to do whatever it is you're doing over there".
I. Wha? Who? Am I totally out of it on the appropriate behavior of four year olds at the playground?
All I have to say, thank god for little boys* and their desire to kick soccer balls and throw rocks.
*Pagina not included.
Big Things!
Dylan is going to be a big brother because we adopted a dog that is pregnant with a love child from a failed affair that made her husband file for divorce!
No one is pregnant.
No one got a puppy.
No one cheated.
No one is married.
April Fool's Day is pathetic.
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