Rape

Dictionary Definitions:
1. the unlawful compelling of a woman through physical force or duress to have sexual intercourse.
2. any act of sexual intercourse that is forced upon a person.
Statutory Rape:
1. Sexual relations with a person who has not reached the statutory age of consent.

A background:
She and I were talking this weekend. Watching some show I think were some girl was taken advantage of by an older man. The father was being shown irate, etc., etc.

My thoughts on the subject:
I would kill, repeat, kill, anyone that ever harmed Her or my daughter in that fashion. It's not a threat. It's not puffing or crazy talk. It's reality. That is possibly the heinous act one sex can commit to the other. It does things mentally and physically that can never be reversed. It takes away so much that cannot be returned. There is not punishment that can delivered worthy of the crime. I am ALL for mandatory sterilization under the right circumstances. And that would be my starting point.

My problems with the subject:
1) Notice the first defintion, "of a woman". Sure there is a secondary definition that comprises both sexes, but, like in society, it is regarded as a crime against women. Bullshit. It can and does happen to both. I know people that it's happened to. But when it's a guy, society doesn't accept it. I call bullshit.

2) Statutory rape REALLY gets me. Have you seen how people dress? How easy is it to get fake IDs? It's a strict liability crime. This means one is liable even without fault. She lied? Oh well. He had a fake ID? Too bad. Bullshit, I say. These laws need to be looked at again. Not sure looking at the "totality of the circumstances" answers anything because it's still a he-said/she-said (where SHE is believed more than HE is), but this just isn't right.

Why I blog about it:
Those poor Duke guys. Holy crap have their lives been ruined and their parents money coffers been emptied over a liar. Their names and lives dragged through the mud. Their every transgression held up for the world to see as if they are some sort of degenerates. A minor intox? Misdemeanors? A bar fight? That's not signs of a rapist or troubled youth, that's called college.

These guys, from all the newest accounts being told, are completely innocent. The propriety of strippers at a college house party for a team aside, they have been presumed guilty since day 1, and some asshole DA looking to get famous and advance his career has consistently mislead, leaked information, and pushed a case forward that is highly questionable at best. And after it's all said and done? These guys will still be ruined. Their names sullied. And that's not fair. RAPE is a very powerful word with very REAL effects on lives, and it shouldn't be used lightly. Unfortunately, it is all the time.

And for those that do commit these crimes? You better hope the victim's dad/brother/husband/etc. isn't like me.

I hereby warrant that warranties are warranted.

See that baby over there (->)? While not mine, I have one similar. So do you. Yes, it's a hot water heater. A little eyesore that we try to hide in our garages or basements or closets. Now I agree that it is an eyesore, but what a necessary evil it is. You don't appreciate these little wonders.... until yours breaks. Like mine did. Ugh.

While this sucks and I hate not having hot water and having to mooch of Her or Her parents to get a warm cleansing, all is NOT lost. In fact, victory is mine!!!

Home warranties, my friends, are a godsend. NEVER EVER, EVER buy a house without buying one or, preferably, having the seller buy one for you. They cost between $200 and $400 depending on the coverage. Mine cost the seller $350, I think, and it covers pretty much all appliances and electronics in my house, at the nifty price of a $100 deductible. This warranty lasts for 1 year from the date of purchase of the home.

I have made three claims so far on things in my house.
1) Not every button on my dishwasher worked. Paid $100 and got a $250 part and the services to fix it and put it into tip top shape.
2) My AC was not up to snuff. Got a tech out and he recharged the fluids and inspected. It cost me $80 for the house call. So the warranty didn't help me there.
3) Said water heater. Tech came out, said it was a cheapy alot of builders use/used and that they are troublesome. He was going to recommend to the warranty company that it needed to be REPLACED. A brand new, contractor grade water heater ($1200 installed) for the nifty price of a $100 deductible. Advantage, Mike.

So headache notwithstanding, Daddy gets a new water heater. And I couldn't be happier.

So with that, I hereby warrant that warranties are warranted. Don't get a home without'em.

5 things I think I think

1) Once you put a camera in front of people for reality television it ceases to be reality. (More or less this is a principal of quantum physics)

2) Work to live. Don't live to work.

3) Affirmative action and uber-political correctness perpetuate the very things they allegedly rectify.

4) Our legal system is too forgiving and perpetuates crime because it has largely lost its deterent effect. (Hooray three strikes)

5) Sports in America is a business and hardly recognizable as sports anymore.

What do you think you think?

Hogan does indeed know best...

This is the BEST POSSIBLE NEWS I could have received on the dreary Ohio Friday. Hogan Knows Best starts season 3 on Sunday. Booyah. Consider yourself DVR'd, BROTHER! Nothing better than waking up at the crack of 11 on Sundays and catching each new episode. Even better is when we manage to get up at 10:30, rush to McD's for some fast breakage, and snag the Sunday Blade (for ads only, I assure you, because the Blade is not even worthy enough to serve as Nora's weewee pad). I digress.

Now I need to make it clear, I have a mancrush on the Hulkster. I say my prayers, eat my vitamins, and train... because he told me to growing up. I bleed yellow and red. I always will. I was like a six year old girl getting my first My Little Pony a few weekends back when She gave me a Hulk Hogan t-shirt as my half-birthday present (she was sucking up for having not gotten me a present on my REAL birthday... nevermind the date of our first face-to-face meeting). Giddy I say, giddy. I am totally envious of the dumbass guys Brooke brings home. Because of Brooke? Hell no, because I'd want to get interrogated by the Hulkster. I need to meet him. Stat. Hey Babe, can we talk a stalking tour, errr, vacation to Miami? PLEEEEEASE?

So bring it Linda, you succulent clown princess of makeup-ery. What shenanigans will you bestow upon your adoring public Nick, you annoying little bitch? And Brooke, oh Brooke. I cannot wait to see what your mannish looks and mediocre talent have in store for us. Most importantly, Hulkster, stay over protective and please, oh please, keep grasping at your waning fame and athletic talent. I can't WAIT to see you on Surreal life 17.

NO, I'M bringing sexyback.

I like the answers to the post below my friends. Truly. I think it settled our debate. The winner or loser is irrelevant, the feedback was fun. BUT it created another discussion. WHAT is "sexy"? What does that mean? What does it mean to you? To my close friend from the Lu, Nelly, sexy (or "pimp juice") is defined as:

" Now your pimp juice is anything, attract the opposite sex.
It could be money, fame, or straight intellect"

I absolutely agree. I don't think there is a definition for sexy. I think it's a mindset. An attitude. And it's different for everyone. Guys, typically very tactile and sensory, tend to lean towards outfits *coughcleavagecough*, appearances, and general sluttiness. I mean slutiness in a good way. Teasing, toying, dirty talk. Things of that ilk. Girls, typically very emotional and seeking connections, tend to lean towards intangible things like working a room, being protective in bad situations, intellect, etc. This is NOT to say that Guysexy does not include Girlsexy things, and vice versa.

To me, sexy is definitely an attitude. Wear it like you were born it. Everyone else be damned. When it comes down to it, screw what everyone else thinks, Her opinion is all that matters to me (and hopefully mine to her). We have been through alot. We'll go through alot more. We'll both fail at times, succeed at times, and look silly at times. But we'll do it together, so it doesn't really matter. Trying new things? Sexy. Working a group of people? Sexy. Slutty bedroom apparel? Duh, sexy. Traveling adeventures? Sexy. Wanting me? Sexy. Different things on different days, really. But when they happen (think camo), I'll tell Her, because if we don't talk, we don't know.

So tell me, what does sexy mean? And if you aren't getting it, how do you go about getting sexyback??

That's NO Secret, Victoria

So this weekend the Missus and I were watching one of the eight billion reality shows on tv. Not sure which one. Not sure which channel. We were laying idly-by browsing the tv channel-by-channel, as people are want to do on a random weekend day, when we came across this little situation that caused us some debate.

A gentleman on the show, about our ages, took his girlfriend/fiancee/wife (not sure?) to a lingerie store to pick out something. All too NOT surprising, seeing such a thing caused the pause in the surfage by yours truly and prompted a brief hiatus on said channel for said exchange. They were in the store, looking around, she was trying things on, and eventually she picked something out. Nothing to strippery or Nasty. A tasteful little number. I think it is called a babydoll (?). Oh, and matching bloomers (I know how much some of you HATE the p-word). That, and the word bloomers makes me snicker.

This prompted said debate, to which I ask thee to chime in. In this situation, was the lingerie "for me, for thee, or for we"? Inquiring minds want to know.

Reaching Out, Touching me. Touching you.

So there are differences between the mens and womens. Shocking, I know. One that occurred to be the other day is how men and women deal with massages.

Men want a massage and get one. From a woman.

Women want a massage and get one. From a woman.

Hmmm?

I gather that for men it is because the thought of having another man rub your dainty parts (and regions immediately abutting, pun intended) is, uhmmmm... uncomfortable. While for women, having some strange man paw at you without buying you dinner or drinks first (I keeeeed, I keeeeed) is...well, uncomfortable.

Am I right? Thoughts? What if it was your signifcant other? I would certainly NOT want Her to get felt up by some strange dude, whether it's part of the protocol or not.

I get fatter thinking about it.

This past weekend She and I went to my hometown, Evansville, IN. It's just a humble little town about half the size of Toledo in Southwest Indiana. There is not alot to speak of down there other than a few colleges and some buildings that will one day be landmarks purely due to some association with yours truly. Uhhhh... anyway...
This all ceases to be true come the first full week of October. This, my friends, is the week of the Fall Festival.

What is the Fall Festival you ask? Only the second largest street festival in the nation, after Mardi Gras. It may be the largest now. Evansville stays largely above water, you see. The FF features close to 200 booths (some seen above) of greasy goodness, run entirely by non-profit organizations in the area. In the distance, after one has waddled through fatman's row, is a large grassy knoll featuring the finest rickety rides and cheatyou games money can be thrown at. An area perfect for the stupid, the semi-drunk, and those who have to prove their worth by spending $15 to win a $3 cupie doll. Oh, and there's goldfish. What's a festival without $.25 goldfish in a bag?

I digress. The FF celebrated its 85th year this year. 85 years of community spirit, friendship, games, and most importantly, DEEP FRIED GOODNESS. Said 200 booths feature such common and, uhmmm, uncommon things as: Aligator Jerky, frog legs, fried green tomatoes, deep fried: twinkies, oreos, and snickers, brain sandwiches, Icky licky suckers (sucker with bugs, like a scorpion, inside), Chocolate covered crickets, fresh squid, elephant ears, monster ears, funnel cakes, french waffels, corn dogs, fresh cider, deep friend cookie dough, tenderloins, sausages, tamales, kuchens, coffee cakes, fresh cobblers, and my most favorite.... pronto pups. What's a proto pup? A corn dog made with pancake batter instead of corn batter. Nevermind that ANYTHING on a stick tastes better (Newton's little known 10th and a half law of physics), it's PANCAKE batter. I just got fatter imagining it. Not kidding.

If you are so inclined, ask Her about it. She now knows. No picture, no story, no explanation can do the FF justice. The people come in all shapes and all sizes. One can a tenderloin prepared in one of no less than 10 different ways???? That friends is America. That is the midwest. That is my hometown. It's the social event of the year. It's the social gathering of my siblings and their spouses and families. And I have already started fasting for next year.

Homeward Bound

From Garden State, one of the most underrated comedies in recent memory (and one damn fine soundtrack, I might add), comes this gem of dialogue:

Andrew Largeman: You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of the sudden even though you have some place where you can put your stuff that idea of home is gone.

Sam: I still feel at home in my house.

Andrew Largeman: You'll see when you move out it just sort of happens one day one day and it's just gone. And you can never get it back. It's like you get homesick for a place that doesn't exist. I mean it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for you kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I miss the idea of it. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place.

The first time I saw this movie, spring of 2005, this really hit home. How true it was for me and for most people I would wager to say. Growing up "home" was my Mom's house. It's where I felt safe. And comfortable. A shelter from the outside world and its judgment and pettiness. It was my haven. Then there came a time when it no longer served as my fortress of solitude. It was in high school when my mother got remarried (that's a story for a different blog altogether). When he was out of the picture... home did not become home again. Home was not home during college either. Sure it was a haven from finals and stress. It served as my own personal detox facility at times. It was indeed great for treats and laundry and being doted on, but it was not home. Then came law school, aka High School 2.0. Plenty of fun. I found many GREAT friends and people I consider my extended family and my core, but not home. Then I got a job, rented a fine house. All my stuff was there. I was a big boy with big boy concerns and big boy bills. But it wasn't home. Then I bought a house. A wonderful home. I love every bit of it. Its location, its layout, its feel. But it wasn't home.

For those keeping score, that is Mike being a man without a home for over 10 years. A soul wandering about searching for something that wasn't there. Something I thought I may never re-attain. A childhood nicety and a place of fond memories. My own little Oz. A place of dreams that maybe never really existed. Alas, I was wrong.

I am proud to report to you all: Mike has found his home.

Home, my friends, is where the heart is. It's old and cliche'. You've seen it on a thousand cross-stitched pillows and hand painted crafts, but that makes it no less true. I found home when I found Her. She is there at every turn. Every time I need her. She is my home. And wherever She goes, my home will be there, because "home" is not a building. Not a house. Not a fortress. Home is more than lumber and nails. Home is a state of being. A happiness and comfort. A knowledge that no matter what happens out there or around me, at "home" it doesn't matter for I am loved. Oh yes, I found home my friends, Home is Where the Heart is. Where She is. And I'm not afraid to tell the world.

And then there was Mike

That's right cowboys and cowgirls, daddy's here to blog. I mostly plan to use this as a means of venting or celebrating life. My life. It's my blog afterall, no? There is, on any given day, a myriad of things that get me thinking. Sometimes it's sentimental, sometimes it's an irritant, and other times it's a little ray of sunshine.

You're invited to delve into my deluded little world. Enjoy the ride.