this is america.

If you've ever happened upon this web log before now, you've probably read the phrase, "This is America. Bless it." That's because I recently started saying it to (1) express the greatness that is America (2) to showcase things that could only happen in America and (3) to remind everyone of the wrongs going on in America and more than anything our country desperately needs to be blanketed in prayer (I sound very much like a preacher's wife right now).

Anyway. I'm planning on doing my best of making, "This is America. Bless it." a weekly happening on this web log of mine.

We're going to start it off with a showcase of something that could only happen in America.

I'm driving down the road and I see a car's back window that reads, "$ Im crayz" Now, this could only happen in America for several reasons: first up, freedom of speech. The driver of this crayz vehicle was doing nothing more than expressing herself (I have to assume it was a her). I applaud her expression. Second up, capitalism. By placing the "$" in front of the phrase, "Im crayz" it's almost like she was saying, "I'm so glad I live in a country that promotes capitalist ventures AND free speech. I think I'll express myself with a dollar sign, so everyone knows how much I love money and earning it." Lastly, exploration. America has always been into exploring. I mean, our country was found on an exploration and not long after we went to space and the moon and now our citizens (Lord, I pray she was an actual citizen) are exploring creative ways to spell words. Where else in the world could take the normal spelling of crazy and turn it into crayz? I say, NOWHERE.

I had a lot of questions for the driver of the crayz mobile, most notably, "are you more or less crazy than others because you spell it differently?" But, she sped off the second the red light turned into green and I was left in her capitalistic/exploratory dust to ponder the vast reasons that I love living in America.

This is America. Bless it.

updates.

• You may remember this post about Miley Cyrus and a certain Daughtry song: well, guess what? Driving down the road yesterday the Daughtry sang came on (not shocking, it plays about six times an hour) and wincing in pain and much enjoyment, I listened. To. the. whole. thing. The DJ came on and you know what he told me? You'll never guess. He told me that the Nickelback guy (Chad Trashsomethingorother) co-wrote the Daughtry song! Kick me twice and then call me Nancy. I will never listen to that song again.

• Last month I wrote about the term normal and in that post I kind of went off on Ed Hardy. For good reason: horribly ugly, over-priced, usually bedazzled (which, in most cases is actually a plus) and of course, a good majority of the products feature a tiger's head. Anyway. Walgreen's is now selling Ed Hardy lighters. Super classy.

• Someone in Dallas, not too far from my homestead, is going around and mutilating cats and then leaving the bodies in the yard where they can be spotted. I just want to get it out there that I do not condone this type of activity, nor will I ever. But, I did let out some gigglez when the news flashed a picture of one of the dead cats onto the screen and he was wearing a teeny-tiny little baseball hat, much like the cat below.

oh, i see.

So, this morning, like most mornings, I woke up way before my alarm went off and being the morning person that I am, I decided to start the day a few minutes early. But, before I could even get out of bed my head was inundated with thoughts of chocolate donuts. Yes, donuts. I've never wanted a chocolate donut as bad as I wanted one at 6:50 this a.m.

Being the lover-of-self that I am, I couldn't deny myself this treat, so I swung by the place so eloquently titled, "Donuts" by my house and got myself two tasty little treats. The whole way to work I was bothered by the fact that I was almost woken up by these intense thoughts about morning-time pastries.

I took to google to solve my woes and could only come up with the meaning of dreams about donuts. Close enough. "To see a doughnut in your dream, represents the Self. It suggests that you may be feeling lost and still trying to find yourself and your purpose in life. Alternatively, it refers to growth, development and nurturance. You are not completely whole." Umm...oh, I see that.

And what a story it's going to be. When I'm finally elected Senator or cure cancer or win the lottery or have a child and get a reality television show or simply, just discover my purpose in life I can attribute it to today, the day I stopped searching and found a chocolate donut.

actually, don't.

Jamie Foxx's song, "Blame it on the Alcohol" is on the radio every other minute. I'll admit: it's catchy. It has a nice groove, but the message is disastrous.

I never thought about just how disastrous until I was listening to 97.9, The Beat, this morning. This station plays a lot of hip-hop and rap and every morning at 8am they have a praise break. Lately, they've been on a big Mary Mary kick. Anyway, last week they played a song by Mary Mary called, "It's the God in Me." It wasn't a bad little song, until this morning on The Beat's Chicken and Waffle Mix, they had mixed "Blame it on the Alcohol" and "It's the God in Me."

I'm sorry, what? Did you really just mix those two songs? T-Pain and Jamie Foxx's beats were somehow tied into two gUrls singing about the God in them? How did that even happen? Was it an accident? Did a listener request it? Does this listener have any amount of common sense?

I digress.

So, I'm still listening to "Blame it on the Alcohol" and I get to thinking about people who do things and blame it on alcohol. You know, drunk-driving, killings, fires, bad haircuts...I'm just tired of it. It's time we stop blaming things on the "goose" and start taking credit for our own stupidity.

Can you imagine someone saying, "Hey, remember that time you got married?" and the other person saying, "Blame it on the ah-ah-ah-alcohol, blame it on the ah-ah ah-ah ah-al-co-hol."

Or, "Remember the time you wore white after Labor Day?" and it's met with, "Blame it on the ah-ah-ah-alcohol."

I'm not trying to be on a soapbox here, I'll be the first to admit that it takes less than one drink of ah-ah-ah-alcohol to make me start sending text messages that shouldn't be sent, but I'll quit blaming it on the ah-ah ah-ah ah-al-co-hol if everyone else does. I promise. No, seriously. I will.

gender bender.

If you're a reader of this web log, you probably spend your free time perusing the internetS while you should be working (after you've been through every new photo album on Facebook, of course). So, the story of Caster Semenya, the South African teenage running sensation is probably old news to you. I mean, how could you miss this? At first, like many of you, I thought "she" is taking Aerosmith's "Dude Looks Like a Lady" to a whole new level. But, then I started to really think about it and I just got a little bit sad for her.

You see, I, much like Caster (can I just say, that is quite an unfortunate name. If "her" name was Sally or Susan she might not be going through all of this) was quite the phenom of athletic prowess growing up. Once, in fourth grade my basketball coach pulled me out of the game and told me he'd only put me back in if I promised to quit shooting. I obviously promised to quit humiliating the other team with my superb lay-up skills on an eight-foot goal and went back onto the court. Seconds later I scored my 20th point and was taken back out. Afterwards the other team hung their head in shame and admired my obvious abilities, but they never questioned my gender! They never said, "Wow, only a boy would be able to dribble with their left hand at this age! She must be a he!" And I even had a bowl cut.

What I'm saying is, girls can be talented athletes. Girls can run fast. Girls can dribble with their left hand.

And then, I'm also saying, what the hell, people? If "she" is actually a he, what kind of tests does "she" need to take? I can only think of one. Even in this complex world of technology only one way comes to mind. Just one. It's fairly simple, too.

And to say a few more things, what if "she" is a she, then what? I'm afraid she may be scarred for life, world-class athlete or not, who wants to marry a "she" that had to undergo gender tests because of concerns she does not meet requirements to compete as a woman. Hello, hours of therapy.

This also raises the question of a transgender competing in an athletic event. What question I do not know, but I bet there are some.

I'll leave you with a quote from my junior high basketball coach, who had no impact on my life whatsoever, minus this gem of a quotable, "A little bit of effort goes a long way."

cats and society.

This was a letter written to a friend. You can pretend like it was to you personally, if you like...

Cats are disgusting. You should never own a cat. I know you may think you’re missing out on something, but if you never trust anything I say, trust me when I say this, “You aren’t missing out on anything. I swear.”

Have you ever heard the phrase, "you look like something the cat drug in?" Exactly. Cats are nasty and drag nasty things around.

Cats are extremely unfriendly and conceited and are also seriously lame and boring. They don't do anything worthwhile or even anything mildly exciting. They provide zero entertainment or comfort.

When you get older and you notice that a boy owns a cat and he doesn't live with his sister or mother, that should be seen as an immediate deal breaker and you should not date him. However, you can be friends with him and then your first act of friendship should be to tell him to get rid of the cat. Everyone wins.

hodge podge.

Continuing with the theme of my everyday life and the multitude of thoughts constantly flowing through my head, this web log will consist of a variety of topics. Consider it a variety pack, if you will.

First up: rap lyrics. Yes, rap lyrics. Almost constantly, when listening to a rap song, I find myself saying, often out loud, "Wait. What?" This morning I heard a rap song and over and over again they rapped, "I run this town. I run this town." I thought to myself, you run this town? You, a rapper, is running a town? The city government isn't running said town? Are you on the city council? I'm so intrigued by you, rapper extraordinaire/city council member and concerned citizen.

As intriguing as these lyrics were/are I was doubly excited because it made me feel like maybe this rapper was taking an active interest in their community instead of rapping about loose women and expensive cars and liquor. But, of course my mind was quickly changed when I heard the line about "next time I come to church don't take my picture." Don't even get me started.

Next up: Dancing with the Stars. Obviously, clearly and without a doubt they use the term "stars" very loosely. I mean, they could call it Dancing with Former Stars and I'd feel better about it, even though some of them aren't even former stars, they're just mildly and inexplainably recognizable. Notice I said recognizable over famous. I did that for a reason: THEY ARE NOT EVEN FAMOUS. Ok, Kathy Ireland is famous. She does have that clothing line at K-Mart. And Kelly Osbourne, her dad is famous, so I can see how she could be considered a star and all. Don't even get me started on former Republican Majority Leader Tom DeLay being chosen as a contestant. This is America. Bless it.

Moving on to: John Hughes. To be honest, I love (loved?) Michael Jackson. I felt a twinge of sadness when Billy Mays died. But, when John Hughes died I could have wept for days, but unfortunately I'm somewhat robot and all of my emotions are reserved for people I actually know and converse with regularly.

Where was the pomp and media exposure for this man? This man, who undoubtedly shaped my childhood and sense of humor almost as much as my parents did. I discovered what funny was by watching his Vacation movies. My parents still call me to tell me when they are on tv (even though I own them all). When making a list of my top 10 favorite movies of all-time, four of them are John Hughes films and another two are very close to being included. That's a lot.

I'm just saying, Christmas isn't Christmas until I've watched Home Alone and Christmas Vacation. And it's not a vacation if you aren't cruising along in the family truckster.

Lastly, since we're on the topic: Top 10 Favorite Movies of All-Time-Ever

1. Silence of the Lambs

2. National Lampoon's European Vacation
3. Mean Girls
4.To Kill a Mockingbird
5. Waiting for Guffman
6. Home Alone
7. Walk the Line
8. Uncle Buck
9. National Lampoon's Vacation
10. Baby Mama

Close Calls: The Great Outdoors, Best in Show, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, Spellbound, Parent Trap (original), Spellbound, Dirty Dancing