I SO Don't Have A Foot Fetish

I've broken my own rule today, in that my ugly old feet are hanging out in public. At the office. That's just disgusting. I hate looking at other people's feet, why in the world would I think they want to look at mine?

There are a couple of answers to this. A) My feet aren't really that ugly, and B) people probably aren't noticing my feet the way I would notice theirs. I project my hatred of feet onto others. I mean, really, do you like going to the work place, the restaurant, or the movie theater and seeing this:

Ishy, veiny, hairy feet. Gross. People who have been walking for more than six months should not put their feet out for all to see. Feet are not attractive in the least, unless they look like this:

When I see feet like this, not only do I smile, I want to actually put them to my face and nibble on them.

But alas, my ugly adult feet are out for all to see, and I am ashamed. At least my sandals fit. Faux Ma wears sandals that are either too short or too wide and her big toe hangs over the end of the sandal. She has actually told me that isn't a bad thing, most people do it, and most people won't even notice. Perhaps. But I notice, and it looks dumb.

So, you people of the summer, I say to you, don't wear sandals, flip-flops, or bare feet unless you have tolerable-looking feet. And who's to say what's tolerable? Me, of course. And ladies, the french manicure on the feet is almost as dumb as Faux Ma's hillbilly toes hanging over the edge of her sandals. If you all promise to quit subjecting me to your hideous feet, I'll go home and put some socks on too.

Yet Another Episode In The Dramatic Life Of Oprah

I heard today that Oprah's dog, Gracie, died due to rubber ball chokage. Yep, choked on a rubber ball. Apparently the Oprah's dog walker and security guard tried to revive the two-year-old golden retriever to no avail.

First of all, I'm not a pet owner because A) I don't have a dog walker and other miscellaneous staff to care for any animals I might own, and B) I don't understand why anyone would want to clean up poop and barf and other bodily fluids of a species other than one's self.

Second of all, I have come to loathe Oprah and her phoney-ass persona.

Therefore, the fact that a dog under her care has choked on its own plaything isn't the least bit sad to me. What makes it better was reading this little synopsis on the whole ordeal. Better still are the comments that follow what is supposed to be a heartbreaking portrayal of the loss of a beloved family pet.

Gigi writes: "What kind of stupid ass dog chokes to death on a ball?" I say, kudos to Gigi.

Jen responds to Gigi's comment with: "Hey GiGi, apparently you either have never had a dog or dont pay a damn bit of attention to your own. Golden Retrievers are very appropriately named. All they want to do is retrieve and if you had one or was even the slightest bit knowledgeable you would know that they are constantly carrying around a ball, toy, stick or something in thier mouth. It could have very easily choked on a ball if it was playing with a ball that was too small or perhaps was laying on its back while holding it with two front paws which I have seen numerous dogs do. Mallinformed people just spewing things out of thier mouth without facts only enhances thier ignorance. Further, that was a very heartless thing to say." I can only point out to Jen that her ignorance is enhanced by her horrible grammar and use of the non-word "mallinformed."

JenJen caught my attention with her response to the story: "Yeah sad. -- but I stopped reading after I got to "I ran out to the dog walker..." Barf. These celebs that can't change their own kids diapers or walk their own damn dogs....Barf. " The repetitive use of "barf" in this simple response is no less than hilarious, especially when followed by a simple period. Barf. I love it.

The last noteable comment to the sad story about Oprah's dead dog comes from Christine who writes: "Our Golden, Gaia died last July. It was awful. He was my first dog and I didn't realize how much it would affect me. My heart ached for so long. I will say a prayer for Oprah. I'm sure Gracie and my Gaia are at Rainbow's Bridge playing right now. " Yeah, doggy heaven. Rainbow's Bridge. I'm absolutely sure of it.

Frozen Food - The Path To Family Unity

OK, I’m not kidding about this. Stouffer’s has TV commercials encouraging families to have dinner together. These dinners should be a time when the family can talk about their days and spend quality time with each other. What a novel concept, eating a meal together as a family. Without the TV on. For those of you who really do think this is a novel concept, Stouffer’s, makers of all those wholesome, processed, frozen foods has developed a section on their website where families can refer to a list of conversation topics to help them get going. Really. I’m not kidding.

I know I sound like a really old person when I say, what the hell is wrong with people these days? Dinner time was when you told your parents about the D you were getting in math. It was the place you learned phrases like “…oh for cry eye” used by Dad while he talked about his coworkers. It was where you complained about schoolmates after which your mother made you say three nice things about that person you hate so much. How can you have dinner and not talk to your family? How can you not know what to say to them? The only answer to those questions is that families don’t have dinner together to begin with. Families are no longer a unit of people living in one house. They are merely anonymous separates.

For the life of me I can’t understand how a family becomes that way. Parents should not be so busy that they can’t take two hours out of twenty-four to prepare, serve, and clean up a dinner meal. Children should not be so overextended with extracurricular activities that they have no time to spend at home for a decent meal. Why wouldn’t spending time together as a family be a priority from day one? What’s the sense of creating a family if you have no intention of nurturing it and embracing it?

In addition to that, how are children supposed to learn how to maintain a household if they aren’t home to see it done and be taught how to do it by a parent(s) who knows the ins and outs of cooking and cleaning. If you aren’t getting together for a meal, one meal, during the day, how will a child know that food can be cooked on a stovetop, in an oven, even in a microwave instead of calling in a request to a restaurant or shouting an order into the clown’s mouth. Doing the dishes after a meal is part of the package too. Back in my day we didn’t have a dishwasher, so we took turns drying dishes while Mom washed them. What’s wrong with assigning different after dinner clean-up chores to kids? Nothing. Nothing I say!

The whole Stouffer’s thing made me depressed. It emphasized the demise of the American family. It emphasized the reality of domestically-ignorant children and priority-challenged parents. It made me sad that little kids aren’t having the experience of sitting around the kitchen table with their parents and siblings, trying new food, laughing with each other, arguing with each other, and learning about each other, all which enforces a sense of belonging.

While I agree with Stouffer’s in that families should share dinner time together, I think it’s a very sad commentary on our society that a frozen food company can use the pitiful state of the American family unit as a market for their products. Face it, if we were a nation that put more priority on developing healthy family relationships and healthy families in general, and less priority on materialism and competition, we would have no need for frozen food, much less frozen food representatives telling us how to create a dinnertime scenario involving the people with whom we share a house.

Mmmmm, tasty.