Call the Police!

My hometown paper often publishes clips from the Rochester, NH police logs. To say that they take liberties with some of the log entries would be an understatement. Sometimes there is snark, other times poems, and occasionally bad puns. Here are my favorite clips from the last month and a half:

10:19 a.m. — At the station a man reports finding “very large foot prints” behind his home. Police investigate this Bigfoot sighting.

11:01 a.m. — A Riviera Motel resident reports that $70 was stolen from her. Last September.

4:29 p.m. — A Felker Street man got a watch as a gift, but now it’s gone missing, and boy, is he miffed.

9:28 a.m. — A man is checking out vehicles in an Industrial Way parking lot. It’s OK. He is an insurance adjuster.

5:13 p.m. — A man who had an Xbox and loaned it to a friend, has spotted it at Quick Cash. Is friendship at an end?

2:41 a.m. — On Myrtle Street another boyfriend is drunk. This one “will not shut up.”

9:38 p.m. — On Old Dover Road, a small dog that has been outside barking all day is told to “shut the hell up” by its owner. Yessuh!

6:28 p.m. — At the Shell on Farmington Road, a short, fat lady smashes a gentleman’s taillight with a hammer, while her male companion threatens him with a wrench — the third wrench in one police log.

10:46 a.m. — A teenager punches a kitchen door on Lafayette Street and bravely heads off without a jacket.

8:32 a.m. — On Pickering Road, like everywhere, the weather’s awful snappy. A dog tied to his dog house is thought to be unhappy. (The ACO heads down the line and says the pooch is doing fine.)

12:32 a.m. — There is a report of five men on North Main Street yelling “Niger.” This is more likely to be a racist incident obscured by a spelling error than people practicing for a geography bee.


Ha. Ha. Ha.

For Babies’ Sake, Pregnancy Spacing Matters

“A new study suggests that you might want to wait at least six months before getting pregnant again, and that more than 11 months could be even better.”

I would have read the rest of the article but then I did the math, and if I got pregnant at the minimum suggested time I’d be two months pregnant with number 2. Then I had a massive brain embolism at the suggestion and died, was revived, and died again at the thought. So I couldn’t finish the article.

I want a son, badly, but I don’t want to see his smiling face anytime in 2010 or 2011.

Oh brother…

The other day I was checking out of the store (baby in carrier to witness my offensive language) when I told the clerk “Happy holidays!” I like to be cheerful this time of year, it makes me feel nice. Same reason I cash a few twenties into singles so I can hit every Salvation Army bucket I see ringing the bell outside of stores.

Imagine my surprise when the clerk replied “You mean, ‘Merry Christmas.'”

I was totally astonished. (I can only assume this store (not naming names) has no official greeting policy.) “You’ve got to be kidding me. No, ma’am, I meant ‘Happy holidays.'”

“You’re removing the real reason for the season.” I swear to you, she said this to me with a straight face. Not only is she obnoxious, but she’s a cliche as well.

“I meant ‘Happy Holidays’ and you know what?” Now I was getting angry. “If you can’t accept a well-intended message of goodwill in a gracious manner, whatever its form, you can kiss the fattest part of my holly jolly ass.”

Stunned silence. The baby cooed. I left.

Can you believe it? What an irritating and obnoxious thing to do. When I say “Happy holidays!” I mean exactly that. I mean it as an actual wish that happiness be granted upon you and yours from Thanksgiving all the way through New Year’s Day. That you enjoy the warmth of family, friends, office party eggnog, inappropriate mistletoe snogging, monkey bread (if you’re my family), the soft flicker of candlelight on the walls, and the making of memories and traditions with your dearest. It has zero to do with whether or not you put up a Christmas tree, menorah, Festivus pole, or whatever.

If someone wants to wish me a Merry Christmas, I find that lovely. I accept your tiding, no matter how perfunctory, and return it to you. If someone wants to “correct” me if I DON’T wish them a Merry Christmas, I’m going to curse his or her manners front of the baby and it will be that person’s fault that my baby heard the word “ass.”

Alas, I see that there’s a growing community of “correctors” afoot:

No, really. REALLY. This is what we’ve come to: labeling stores “Christmas Friendly” or “Christmas Offensive” and “correcting” total strangers who are just trying to send a message of goodwill.

What an insane time in which we live.

ETA: I see that many of the comments indicate displeasure that the stores “only seem interested in making money and not the real spirit of Christmas.” Oh for…look. Based on demographics of Focus on the Family’s (site sponsor) key audience, we can assume several of these people are anti-Obama conservatives. You can believe Obama is a socialist and will ruin our economy or you can get upset over stores making money (AKA capitalism) but you cannot do both because I will call you mean, mean things, “idiot” chief among them.

“Evangelical Preacher Urges Congregants to Have More Sex”

You know what? If someone told me there was a church around here with a dude like this at the pulpit, I’d consider attending services again. I think abstinence-only education is unrealistic at best and negligent at worse (*cough-Bristol Palin-cough*. But I wholeheartedly support the notion that sex is best between committed long-term spouses/partners/etc, and that’s a very sensible idea to be passed along to young members of a congregation–even if the message is aimed at their parents.

Hear that, little baby? Don’t think just because Mommy and Daddy have tattoos and will talk to you about birth control means that we aren’t also trying to model real values and what love and commitment should look like. You don’t get off that easily. 😀