This needs to be addressed.

http://hrw.org/reports/2007/nicaragua1007/

I can agree to disagree with people over my extremely liberal pro-choice values. But this is ludicrous. Women - mothers, sisters, daughters, wives - are losing their lives because of an influential fundamentalist faction (sound familiar???) in Nicaragua.
Let's get something straight: ectopic pregnancies DO NOT survive to viability. Ever. And, left untreated, they kill women. Not "slutty" women, or women who were too "weak" to practice abstinence (please read my extreme sarcasm into these categories) - but "worthy" women. And STILL there is no outrage about these deaths??? About politics blocking proper medical care??? About families being left without their mothers because we have to pretend that maybe that ectopic pregnancy will result in a life, and that it is worth letting a woman DIE to prove otherwise?
This is an outrage - a violation of the human rights and dignity of women. But hey, all the politicians who got it passed get to pat themselves on the back knowing they "saved a life" while ignoring the ones lost or ruined as a result. Nice job fellas, next stop, America.

Dreams Be Dreams . . .

So, M. requested a post about Murphy, but he really hasn't done much of interest recently. I mean, he is an incredibly awesome dog. But it is tough to write a great blog post (do not argue that none of my posts are great so that this is actually on par with the rest - I can be interesting! and funny! and informative!) about how he took a nap on my tummy yesterday and kept me warm. Or how he plays fetch with himself in my apartment, and always looks surprised when he throws the ball and must go chase it. Or how he commandeers the back of the couch and drapes his head over my shoulder and his tail over the other shoulder (a move I call "the Murphy scarf"). Oh, and he grumbles. Quite a bit. The most spoiled dog on the planet finds things I do irritating, and grumbles his disapproval. So there you go, M. That is what Murphy has been up to.

On another note, I went to Beer-lympics this weekend. It sort of devolved into an unorganized mess, and people from a neighbors' party came over and ruined our teams. But they were nice, and they commiserated with me about the complete shit-football that occurred Saturday (CU and ASU both got crushed - though to be fair, they were both playing great teams). So there's that . . .

Oh, and the title of the post is referring to my dream about my favorite incredibly-hot-and-talented-with-adorable-shaggy-hair singer, Ryan Adams. I hung out with Ryan and Owen Wilson in my dream - though to be fair, I prefer Luke Wilson (mmm, scruffy men). Ryan totally dug me, obvs. And Owen was flirting with me but he really wanted me to hang out with his buddy Ryan. So yeah, my dreams are totally based in reality. I think the deep dream analysis here is, "AH wants to make out with Ryan." Yep, that's about it.

Calm after the storm.

Wow, my very own blog drama. Who would have thought? Not me. I am going to leave up the comments and my thoughts on them because I think it is important to highlight how horrible the statements were. Rape is never funny. It is never acceptable to joke about "putting someone in her place" with it. It has no place on my little site of internet happiness. But Jeff apologized and I accept that and I will move on. I don't have anything more insightful to say about it.

So, I shall entertain you with the pondering that has racked my brain all day:
If Viagra had been invented at the beginning of the 20th century, would high schoolers still have to suffer through Ernest Hemingway, or would he have had so much sex he never would have written his angst-y novels?

Yeah, that's how my brain works.

Jeff is a RAPIST.

To point your attention to my least favorite person ever, I point you to my post about CNN. If you read it as a reasonable human, you saw that I was mocking CNN for the ridiculous headline calling a person "cancer boy". Because that is awful. Because no person is so singularly defined. Because it is ridiculous and irresponsible journalism. And a respondent thinks I should be raped for saying anything. He thinks I should respect others, because I am a "spoiled rich girl" - but that it is okay to PHYSICALLY ASSAULT ME. I cannot make you understand how offensive this is. I can't. It makes me physically ill that anyone would say that. That is all I can say.

Halloween - Best.Holiday.EVER.

If you really want to know how my Halloween went, Eddie summed it up quite nicely here.

And I have an odd conglomeration of songs in my head right now that mostly consists of Ryan Adams. It goes something like this:

Oh I miss you oh When you laid me down Into your beautiful garden Flowers and the love in my arms Is God playing evil tricks on me
May you one day carry me home Up here in the city feels like things are closing in The sunsets just my light bulb burning out I miss Kentucky and I miss my family
Will you comfort me in my time of need Can you take away the pain of hurtful deeds Cause I will comfort you when my days are through And I'll let your smile just off and carry me

OK, so it is entirely comprised of Ryan Adams. Shush. Happy Halloween.

Well Played, CNN, Masters of the News Universe.

So here I am wasting time in my sweats, with Kashi, at my kitchen counter this morning when I stumble on to cnn.com. CNN is my last resort. I grudgingly click over to it after I have exhausted all other legitimate internet entertainment. Because CNN is not real news. No, really. Anderson Cooper might be a silver fox (which reminds me that I had a really weird dream about my gay neighbors in DC last night that involved me breaking into their house and then eating pasta with them . . . but I digress), but CNN is still crap. Sort of like Jeff, the God of Biscuits (man, I am really all over the place today).

So imagine my glee (and Eddie's as well, sick bastard) at the top headline of the day over at blessed CNN.com:

"Pitbull Kills Cancer Boy's Miniature Horse"

And the ensuing chat:
A-Hottie: "Pit Bull Kills Cancer Boy's Miniature Horse" * what a headline * so well written* Cancer Boy???
Eddie: Is that real???
A-Hottie: yep * cnn.com * where else?
Eddie: i'm crying laughing at that * I just told everyone at the coffee shop
(ok, what are we, an episode from Friends?? Continue . . .)
A-Hottie: heehee * I just like that he is Cancer Boy * like the worst superhero EVER
Eddie: HAHAHA * Cancer Boy * OMG * STOP
A-Hottie: What is his special power? Shoots chemo through his fingertips?
Eddie: Yes. While riding his miniature horse.
A-Hottie: Hahaha, oh man. Straight to hell, do not pass go, do not collect $200.

ADDENDUM. ENSUING HILARITY OVER GCHAT:
A-Hottie: I am laughing so hard * I am picturing this little bald superhero on a mini horse and absolutely crying
Eddie: hhahahahaha OMG it hurts
A-Hottie: i know. with his hospital gown as a cape. oh dear.

Eddie: I think his miniature horse should have the pit-bull gouge still there. like a zombie horse.

A-Hottie: his head lolling a bit to one side.

Eddie: and it should be too small for Cancer Boy too, so his legs scrape along the floor while he's riding him. Cancer Boy has outgrown Minaiature Zombie Horse, but how can he leave him, they've been through so much

A-Hottie: this should really be Tim Burton's next project. and of course the kid needs parents who are complete dolts.

Eddie: and are clueless to the secret identity of Cancer Boy. because he wears glasses. great fucking disguise. maybe he can cure cancer

A-Hottie: ooh like a real hero!

Eddie: but he can't cure his own

A-Hottie: but his pony is magic! and so long as he rides it, he is ok!

Eddie: and by the end of the movie/trilogy, his mini-horse cures him.

A-Hottie: And he becomes a real horse again!

Eddie: ooh ooh! can it have sneakers, too???

A-Hottie: YES

Larry.

Rather than working on my mountain of homework, I thought it was important for me to post this:



















Murphy as Larry the Lobster. What a dog - erm, crustacean.