Monday, July 27, 2009

Snakes, Snakes, Go Away

A disturbing story in today's news has prompted me to write another RoseRant. According to Ron Magill of the Miami MetroZoo, the state of Florida is now known as the "Club Med" for pythons. Apparently, there are up to 175,000 of the highly-lethal serpents roaming around the Everglades, reproducing like mad and eating everything in their path, including alligators. None of these critters live naturally in this part of the world, so the infestation can be blamed entirely on careless pet owners who got in over their heads and eventually released them into the wild. Since the snakes have no natural predators in Florida, researchers are predicting that they will further multiply and eventually slither northward into Georgia, the Carolinas, and Louisiana. Sadly, just the other day, a "pet" python escaped his seemingly inescapable glass box and killed a toddler in her own bed.

The problem of python infestation could have been avoided if just one critical element was used: COMMON F@#KING SENSE. Why the hell are people buying pythons for pets? That is just about the dumbest friggin' thing I've ever heard. What kind of numbnut buys a deadly creature that should never, ever, ever be kept in a box? Is it a penis thing? Does keeping a python under glass somehow add a few extra inches to one less endowed? Note to Zeke, the owner of the now 15-foot python being kept in the back of his double-wide: Dude, your dick is just fine. You don't need to prove anything to anybody. I can only imagine that fateful moment when Zeke realizes he can't handle his reptilian roommate anymore. He puts his snake in the back of his pickup truck, hauls ass down Alligator Alley while listening to some testosterone-laced country & western song, stops by the side of the road, and opens the door of the cage. Real manly, Zeke. You are such a total stud. Yee-ha!

Please forgive my sarcasm, but I just can't help it! I am a Florida resident (at least for the next two weeks) and more importantly, I am a mother of a third-grader who weighs fifty pounds soaking wet. The thought of some gargantuan yellow python wrapping itself around my little girl (or any other child for that matter) and literally squeezing the life out of her, terrifies me. And for what? All because some idiot has unresolved penis issues.

The state government has now gotten involved, officially approving snake hunting in order to hopefully reduce the number of predatory pythons basking in sunny Florida. We'll have to see how that goes. Maybe we should also crack down on those businesses who are selling these creatures and put a modicum of ethics and responsibility on their shoulders as well. If you need to have a permit to own a gun, then you should have to get a permit to own a deadly creature. In order to acquire one, you should be able to prove you can appropriately care for the animal, even when it grows past the cute little cuddly stage. You should be able to show that no one will be in danger of putting the animal in captivity. In short, you should be able to prove that you aren't a total moron.

How many more dead children will it take before we start doing something about it?

Thursday, July 23, 2009

MC 'n Me

I will be at Sarasota News & Books tonight at 7pm doing a joint reading with fellow Sarasota author, MC Coolidge. Our event is called "Seriously Saucy", and believe me, we both live up to the moniker. Since I am wicked busy today, I have decided to be lazy and have MC do all of the heavy promotional lifting. Here is a link to her blog which describes the event. Even if you aren't in Sarasota, I encourage you to check out MC's blog. She's smart, funny, insightful, and a helluva great writer. I'm blessed to have crossed her path. (Although, by the way she has built up my reading as supersexy, people may expect some sort of pole dancing routine to accompany it!)

I hope to see you at SN&B tonight!

Thursday, July 16, 2009

What'chu Talkin' 'Bout, Willis?

I am a Chicago gal. I lived in Chicago for half of my life, and I know two things for sure: 1) Chicago has the best friggin' hot dogs on the planet, and 2) it is the proud home of the Sears Tower, the world's (once) tallest and most majestic skyscraper.

Imagine my horror when I read the news today indicating that the Sears Tower is now the Willis Tower, named after some frou-frou insurance company based out of London. The Willis Tower? THE WILLIS TOWER? WTF????? I can't even begin to tell you how many different shades of wrong this is.

Monday, July 13, 2009

I Swear, It's True!

A recent study conducted at Britain's Keele University has proven what we all have known for ages to be true: Swearing is good for us. No shit, Sherlock.

The study showed that the use of profanity when experiencing pain can make one feel better and increase pain tolerance. The brainy Brits who conducted the research had 64 blokes stick their hands in tubs of ice water for as long as possible while repeating the swear word of their choice (my option would probably have been "motherf@#ker!"). The control group was then asked to do the same exercise, except to repeat a benign word that would describe a table ("planar!"). Lo and behold, the vulgarians were able to keep their hands submerged in the icy waters longer than their G-rated counterparts.

The act of swearing, while often inappropriate, impolite, and downright fucking unladylike, simply makes us feel better when bad stuff happens. I don't know how it happens, but there is something magical that takes place when the word "fuck!" is uttered. It makes everything just a little bit easier to deal with. While it's occasional use might make me sound like a trucker, I certainly prefer it to downing a couple of Percocets or Vicodins. Everybody has his or her own way of getting through the pain; mine is using a well-placed F-bomb every once in a while.

At the risk of being labeled a Bad Mommy, I know my potty-mouth is potentially setting a poor example for my eight-year old daughter. However, in my defense, my off-color declarations rarely take place in the presence of Emma. Yet, when I slam my finger in the car door or stub my toe on the bed post, there is nothing that's gonna stop a naughty from escaping my lips, no matter who is in the vicinity. If the wee one is within earshot, I do my best to mutter the dirty word so as to be as camouflaged and unintelligible as possible. But, to be honest, I know I'd feel a helluva lot better if I could just blurt it out at the top of my lungs. I suggest to the Brits that they do a second study that measures the direct proportion of volume to profanity in relation to pain threshold. No doubt they would find that the louder you scream it, the better it feels.

Fuckin' A!

Friday, July 10, 2009

A Response from YouPorn

A few days ago, my most recent "Sex and the Suburbs" column in Creative Loafing was published. In it, I describe in embarrassing detail my recent foray into the land of YouPorn. Within one day, I received a very pleasant email from James, a YouPorn customer service representative. Here is his note to me:

"Hi Theresa. That was a great article and your observations are much appreciated. You'll be happy to know that we'll soon be releasing a female version of the site and hope to better meet the needs of our female audience. Feel free to keep in touch. Take care - James"

How interesting it is to find that the level of customer service offered by YouPorn is head-and-shoulders-and-genitalia above that which is provided (or NOT provided) by our local phone providers, credit card companies, airlines, and any other reputable business we frequent. It must be the outstanding customer service that makes the porn industry so wildly popular!! :)

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Porn Free

I have been sick for over a week ever since returning from my trip to Denver for the International New Age Trade Show. (I never seem to learn the lesson that I need to rest just a teensy bit before diving back into life's craziness.) Today is the first day that I am starting to feel a little better, but I am still not quite ready to create brand new blog mats. However, I thought I'd share with you the latest installment of my monthly column called "Sex and the Suburbs" in Creative Loafing newspaper. If I think too much about what I write, I find myself blushing beet red from the embarrassment. Suffice it to say, this is one of those blush-worthy items. Enjoy!