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Cookies & Communists

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At swimming yesterday, my swimming buddy asked me if I had seen the article below (in full) about the Girl Scouts. After reading it on  www.theindychannel.com, I can’t ignore it and can’t stop thinking about it.

Seriously? The Girl Scouts are working for Planned Parenthood, feminists, communists and the LGBT community?

Well, wait one doggone minute…

Hmmm….You know, it’s all coming together for me now. I have to admit that I was surprised when I got a free pack of birth control pills and a coupon for 50% off an abortion with our cookie delivery last week. I called my friend to inquire. She apologized for not leaving us with the flier which explained the following promotions:

**With every purchase of 5 boxes of Thin Mints, you get one month’s supply of birth control pills.

**With every purchase of 2 boxes of Samoas, you get a coupon for half off an abortion at the Planned Parenthood clinic of your choice. (I asked my friend why only 2 boxes of Samoas? She said that they have warehouses full of them because of the coconut (not a lot of fans out there). They needed a promotion to move them off the shelves. Since there are a lot of communistic feminists willing to overlook coconut and desiring abortions, the ad campaign is apparently considered a success.)

**With every purchase of 1 box of Trefoils, you get one free class on lesbianism entitled, “How to Liberate the Hidden Lesbian in You”.

I’m a little bummed that I didn’t buy a box of Trefoils. That free class sounds interesting.

Seriously, folks. Where did Fort Wayne get this guy? Was he really voted into office? People in Fort Wayne actually selected him over the other candidate? (Who was the other candidate?)

Wow.  I just realized that we are going to hell in handbasket and you know why? It’s not because we let a transgender girl become a Girl Scout, it’s because we elect closed-minded morons like this guy and let him have any say in our government.

Indiana, we had our Super Bowl Moment, but, sadly, it’s over. We will now be known as the hotbed for the lunatic fringe. No wonder the Artiste (see prior post) is bitter that his bitchy wife made him move here.

And, for the record, Mr. Morris’ “Conservative Hoosier Upbringing and Values” are not my values. It seems that all he values is bigotry, discrimination, hate and divisiveness. Yep, that’s the stuff that will move our country forward.

No. Thank. You. 

Lawmaker Condemns ‘Radicalized’ Girl Scouts / www.theindychannel.com

Rep. Bob Morris: Organization Supports Abortion, Homosexuality

POSTED: 3:17 pm EST February 20, 2012
UPDATED: 8:22 pm EST February 20, 2012

INDIANAPOLIS — An Indiana lawmaker won’t support a resolution celebrating the 100th anniversary of the Girl Scouts because he believes it is a “radicalized organization” that supports abortion and promotes homosexuality.

Rep. Bob Morris of Fort Wayne has sent a letter to fellow Indiana House Republicans explaining why he opposes the nonbinding resolution.

He said he found online allegations that the Girl Scouts are a tactical arm of Planned Parenthood, encourage sex and allow transgender females to join.

 

“Many parents are abandoning the Girl Scouts because they promote homosexual lifestyles,” Morris’ letter reads. “In fact, the Girl Scouts education seminar girls are directed to study the example of role models. Of the 50 role models listed, only three have a briefly-mentioned religious background — all the rest are feminists, lesbians, or Communists.”

He also wrote that the fact that first lady Michelle Obama is honorary president should give lawmakers pause before they endorse the Girl Scouts because the Obamas are “are radically pro-abortion and vigorously support the agenda of Planned Parenthood.”

I challenge each of you to examine these matters more closely before you extend your name and your reputation to endorse a group that has been subverted in the name of liberal progressive politics and the destruction of traditional American family values,” Morris wrote.

Last fall, the Girl Scouts of Colorado accepted seven-year-old transgender child Bobby Montoya as a member, prompting some troops across the country to disband in protest.

Ashley Sharp, spokeswoman for the Girl Scouts of Northern Indiana-Michiana, said Monday in a statement on the group’s website that it leaves sex and reproduction questions to parents. The group accepts transgender youth on a case-by-case basis.

In his letter, Morris said his two daughters had been active in Girl Scouts, but said they would now join a group to “learn about values and principles that will not confuse their conservative Hoosier upbringing.”

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Those Five Little Words

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Do you know what can make me go from absolutely fine to insanely crazed faster than you can blink?

“You just need to relax.”

It doesn’t matter who says it either – my husband, my dad, my friends, my kids, etc. If you’re in the mood for a fight, then just go ahead…….

Who said it this time? Let me backtrack a bit.

My sweet husband bought me a coupon from Living Social for a 3-hour art class. You see, I had a painting that’s been half done for about a year and it’s been haunting me (and others, apparently). Since I’m not a trained artist (I’ve created a total of 2.5 paintings in my entire life), I got stuck and couldn’t move forward. Simple as that.

I finally decided to go to this instructor to see if I could be helped (wait, I know I can’t be helped, but maybe my painting can). How did it go? Just let me say that I’d rather have hot pokers stuck in my eyes than go back to that class.

Let me give you some samples:

“Um, are you happy with your sky?” {He was subliminally trying to get me to say, “No, I’m not.”}

Yes, I LOVE my sky.

“You know, I offer classes on just mixing paints and brush techniques.”

Really? Well you can kiss my ass. It’s not rocket science and I think my mixing is just fine.

“Don’t be so rough with the brush. You want long smooth strokes.”

Again, kiss my ass.

“You just need to relax. Painting should be fun.”

Aaaarrrghhhhhh! Did you just say, “Relax?”  You want me to RELAX? Then quit sitting across from me staring at me haphazardly mixing my paints and roughly smacking the canvas with my paint brush!!!!

{Shit, has it really only been 45 minutes?}

“I absolutely don’t let anyone paint flowers for their first painting.”

Huh? I didn’t realize this was a dictatorship.

“You need to add more black.”

Got it.

“You need to add more black.”

I heard you the first time.

Do you really like oils?

Yes, I like how you can smoosh (It’s a painting term. Look it up.) the colors together. {Clearly oils are wrong and acrylics are right.}

Meanwhile, in between his blurts stated above, he shows us another one of his paintings (ooh, aah), visits the three other painters-in-training and murmurs helpful hints. Then, one of these murmurs catches my attention.

Artiste: “Would you like a glass of wine? There’s only enough for one glass.”

Huh? What about the one that needs to relax?

Mrs. Flirty (sitting behind me): “Sure.”

Then, I hear, “How did you end up in the Midwest?”

It’s a legitimate question. I mean how could a bunch of unrefined, dumb hicks ever appreciate his sheer acrylic brilliance? They don’t even offer Art Appreciation class in Indiana anymore because we all flunked it. There is an ugly rumor circulating that all the cool stuff hits the coasts first and then eventually trickles inward to us poor Midwesterners. I personally don’t think that’s true. I just heard a new band on the radio – Hootie & the Blowfish. Ever heard of them? They. Are. Awesome!

It continued:

Mrs. Flirty:  “You should be in New York or an artist colony somewhere.”

Artiste:  “Blame it on the wife (wives can be such bitches!). She wanted to live in the Midwest so we moved here.

Wow. Wow. Wow. When is this class going to end?

When I finally got home, I was so wound up that Mike was confused (because I was supposed to be relaxing) and then eventually amused by my irritation.

The only true bright spot during the entire ordeal occurred at the end of class. The sweet 14-year-old student sitting next to me looked at my painting and said, “Wow, your painting is way cooler than the actual picture.” Take that, Artiste!

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Infested

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thud-scurry-scurry-pitter-patter

What was that noise?

scurry-shuffle-scurry-shuffle-thud

Was that the dog? Looking at him (see pic), I determine that it’s not the dog.

Is it my keyboard? After abruptly silencing the keyboard, I hear the noise. It’s not the keyboard.

Oh. My. God. You may be seeing us on a future episode of Infested! on Animal Planet.

It sounds like a huge critter – chipmunk? squirrel? possum? raccoon? Believe it or not, we’ve had run-ins with all afore-mentioned critters with the exception of the squirrel (yes, we have squirrels, but none have been so bold as to enter our house).

Possums:

In our previous house, we had a h-u-g-e one (it was the size of a beagle) die under our deck a week before we put the house on the market. Didn’t we notice that our nightly visitor hadn’t been seen in a couple of days? Sure, but we didn’t realize that he had met his maker under our deck until the stench of rotting flesh permeated our house. Needless to say, the hubs and his dad had to tear up the deck to remove the dead possum. We did get the house fumigated, the deck repaired and the house sold within a week of the possum’s demise.

In our new house, we had baby possums dropping from our ceiling in the basement. That was fun. Our first home improvement project? Replacing the drop tile ceiling with a drywall one.

Raccoons:  In our very first house, we had a detached garage and there was a very large raccoon living up in the rafters. Eeeeek! It didn’t stay long, thank goodness.

Chipmunks:  Check out the story here.  It’s worth the read – it’s one of our family favorites.

Okay, so back to the present. What did I do this morning? I did what every normal woman does in these situations – I bugged my husband at work with a problem that he couldn’t possibly do anything about and then got frustrated when he didn’t get on the crazy train with me. I needed a panic partner, not a calm fix-it guy.

[Duh! I knew that I should be calling a professional critter guy instead of you. Don’t you know me by now?]

Why do I do that? I do it so I’m not panicking alone, but then it always backfires on me. Because, of course, the hubs trying to be calm, sensible, and matter-of-fact added fuel to fire by saying, “Well, it probably means ripping out drywall and the ceiling.” 

Great. I’m now on the crazy train alone and shivering with visions of possums living and laughing in the space between our first and second floors.

I only wanted some validation that my gut was right in thinking that I should call our bug guy (yeah, we have a bug guy) for a critter guy recommendation.

Always go with your gut. Call the bug guy first.

By the way, I got a recommendation from the bug guy for a critter guy.  I called and got his voicemail – he sounds like what you think a critter guy would sound like (think “good ole boy” that’s seen a lot in his day). I hope he calls me back………..