Jesus is NOT a Zombie

People who know me knows I am a fan of the paranormal, sci-fi and fantasy world. I drooled over Edward and thrilled with Harry. I am a voracious reader of romances involving vampires, werewolves and witches, sometimes involving all three! I haven't, to my shame, attended any comic cons, but mainly because no one else will go with me.

     Why the obsession? These characters, one and all, are superior in some way. The vampires are hot and OOZE sex appeal and will live forever. The werewolves are hot and aggressive and will live forever. Witches have powers to do serious crap...and will live forever. See a theme? Now zombies...they're a different story. What is there to like about zombies? They're gross, stinky, falling apart and are DEAD. There is nothing sexy or appealing about them, and yet they're "trendy" right now. Warm Bodies is a movie currently playing right now about a zombie romance which is as weird as it sounds. I can't imagine kissing something that's nasty, although some of my ex-boyfriends have come close.

     With that context, I had a discussion with my hubby about why Jesus is not a zombie (don't ask how this came about, but please keep in mind this is a typical type of discussion between the two of us). First of all, a zombie is someone who is dead but animated, otherwise known as "undead". They're actively decaying and at some point will literally fall to pieces. Most of the time they don't know what the hell is going on, and shuffle around at the bidding of the bad person who called them up in the first place. Jesus died, yes, but He was brought back to life. He was breathing and NOT decaying and pretty cognizant for somebody who was just tortured and crucified and stabbed to death. He is The Man...and not undead. God gave Jesus some holy CPR and that's all there is to it. NOT undead.

     SO there you have it. Jesus is not a zombie. For those of you who are preparing for the upcoming Zombie Apocalypse, please feel reassured that Jesus will not be at the front lines directing your own horrible, painful and slow demise- y'all are doing fine on your own with that.

Dances with Baby Wolves

     
I love my boys, but they're little animals. Sometimes they're hyper, poo-throwing monkeys, sometimes they're cuddly little baby kittens, and sometimes they're rabid little dogs. But most times...my baby boys are little baby wolves.

I am fascinated with wolves. They're beautiful, dangerous animals that have an amazingly complex social structure. Over the years, I've learned much through books, movies and, yes, the internet. Although I'm not Team Jacob or Alcide or Remus Lupin (a reference to Twilight, True Blood and Harry Potter for those of you living under a rock), I've found incredible similarities between the human and lupine worlds

Wolves are pack animals- they'll stick with the same pack (usually a family) unless they're driven out or choose to leave. Its a status-led society where everyone has a place in a hierarchy from the alpha male/female to the lowest omega member. Each pack has a territory that the alphas fight to protect, and the oldest siblings help take care of their youngest siblings when the older adults leave to find food. They hunt together, they play together and they'll fight to the death to protect the pack.

In other words, they're a suburban family.

My boys know the hierarchy: Mommy/Daddy are the alphas, followed by anyone older than them...then Aidan, then Liam, then Nala the cat (my poor omega kitty!). When Aidan or Liam challanges authority (as young wolves often do), a firm verbal nip on the backside quickly re-establishes the status quo. Baby wolves often lick the faces of the adults to wheedle affection and my boys know how to kiss to manipulate! They even pee in the bushes to mark their territory (an activity I am actively trying to discourage!). The whining...ah, the whining- its universal in any language, animal or human! Like the baby wolves, my boys playfight to practice dominance games when they become older. And when they become old enough, they'll leave to form their own packs, and have their own little baby wolves (God willing!).

As for me, I'm not much different from a wolf either. Like a mother wolf, I am ferociously protective of my kids. Nothing is more dangerous than a mother wolf protecting her cubs in danger. If you threaten my cubs, you're going to get mauled. My home town are my hunting grounds whereby I forage for food and clothing (generally on sale), and work with my mate to keep our territory from falling to another pack. Plus, wolves mate for life and so do I. If my mate cheats on me, he dies. Enough said.

I love my little cubs. I'll play with them, discipline them, feed them and educate them. I'll run with them, laugh with them and most of all, dance with them. What else can you do? They'll grow up too fast and you'll miss it if you don't.

Just don't mess with me during my moon cycles. Seriously.

The Rise of the Caisians!

     We are increasing. We are dominating. We will take over the world. This is our manifesto.

     I married a white man. When you ask Hubby what his cultural heritage is, he will answer "Protestant Mutt". He's a mix of English and Irish and Scottish with a German thrown in like an embarassing zit. I am a throrough-bred Korean, a "pureblood" as it were, a race that is more xenophobic than any other in the world. When you throw caucasian and asian genes together, you have the new race evolving...the Caisian!

    Caisian children, for lack of a better word, are f-bombing GORGEOUS. Most of the time they have the best features of either race, blended harmoniously into a sum that is better than each of its parts! You want proof? Keanu Reeves - can't act his way out of a paper bag but he's some serious eye candy! Kristin Kreuk (Smallville) and Dean Cain (The Adventures of Lois and Clark) - SuperHotties! Russel Wong (Romeo Must Die) and Brandon Lee (Bruce Lee's son)- droooool. Tia Carrera  and Kelly Hu (Hawaii Five-O) and Phoebe Cates...all absolutely beautiful women.
   
    And then you have those guys who unfortunately drew the losing set in the bag of genes. Rob Schneider - yikes. Tommy Chong (Cheech and Chong) - I think most of his asian genes ran screaming in the night. And then you have Genghis Khan (half proto-Turk and half Mongol, all asshole) - obviously those genes should never have been within one light year of each other! But thankfully, the ugly...I mean the aesthetically-challanged Caisians are the minority.

     My Korean parents, God bless their paranoid little hearts, raised me to believe that the White Man is the ruler of the whole world...and to some extent they're right. Most of the CEOs of the predominant Fortune 500 companies are white. Most of the billionaires in America are white. Lordy even our US Presidents (until just recently) have ALL been white (and how much more powerful can you be than the US Prez?). And why has the White Man historically been the ruling class you ask? NUMBERS I tell you. There's just more of them running around! Well no longer! The White Man seems to have a facination with asian women, associating them with the sultry/innocent Geisha girls of the past. The Caisians produced, being so damn beautiful, will have no difficulty mating like little good-lucking bunnies, producing MORE caisians! The numbers will logarithmically increase and soon they will take the world!

    My kids, not to put too fine a point on it, are bloody gorgeous. Fine, I'm biased, but I've been mugged by Chinese tourists at The White House and at The Intrepid asking to take pictures with my kids. Everywhere we go, people stop me to marvel at their green eyes with the slight asian tilt. In the winter their skin is the creamy peaches and cream you hear about in songs. In the summer they tan a gorgeous brown, unlike Hubby who burn/peels/burns constantly. And they are not alone! My BFF Liz is a Filipino who married an Italian and her 3 girls are going to cause an entire generation of boys heart failure. My friends Phey from college and Glendy from optometry school with caisian kids are achingly lovely. Everywhere I go I see more and more caucasian-asian couples with just beautiful caisian kids! Its happening, people! The proof is out there!

     Caisians are the rising power. Using their heart-stopping beauty and their brains forced to work by Tiger Moms, they will be the new CEOs, the new billionaires...and dare I say it? The new US President??? My heart a twitters...

     Caisians UNITE!

Why Do You Need a Degree from Mensa to Play With Toys Today?

    

When I was growing up I played with dolls. The most difficult thing about I found while playing with dolls was color coordinating Barbie and Ken's clothing. My brother had Hot Wheels and Legos, and we both played with kites and soccer balls and read lots and lots of comic books.
     Today's dolls can talk and walk and pee on their own (ew) and are hideously expensive! The Hot Wheels tracks my boys are playing with have complex links with motors that make the cars crash,fly,spin, AND blow bubbles...not to mention some of them change colors with hot/cold water! Baseball sets for toddlers will actually shoot the ball up so the kid can hit it. Books have been replaced with kid-size e-readers complete with sound and movies! My pretend cameras have been replaced with actual tiny digital cameras for kids! And now kids can start learning on their very own toddler laptops. RIDICULOUS!!!
     I bought for M2's birthday a couple of the new Transformer robots-in-disguise from an online site. Granted, they were supposed to be for 5 year olds, but we've bought plenty of toys that were supposed to be for older kids and they've loved them. When I had Transformers growing up, they were big, made out of metal and only needed 3 or 4 maneuvers to change car to robot. The ones I bought were cheap plastic, small and required 15 "easy" steps to change. FIFTEEN. And it was the "easy" level!!! What freaking 5 year old is going to be able to move teeny parts in a 3 dimensional axis? After I broke the fourth part off Bumblebee I was ready to get the hammer and go Godzilla on the damn thing. The Transformers have suddenly decided they'd rather stay as cars since being robots targeted them to social discrimination and possible deportation to the dumpster.

     To make matters worse, the toy companies have exploited every parent's psychotic need to provide educational stimulation for their child. DVDs like Your Baby Can Read and the de-bunked Baby Einstein Series, as well as video game products like Leapster and VTech promises an edge in your child's education - what parent WOULDN'T jump at the chance to give their kid every advantage to be head of the class? And all for the low, low price equivalent to your mortgage. An article published in babycenter.com featured a psychologist who found that kids get on average of 70 new toys a year (a low estimate in our household thanks to hubby!) but the kids who were the most creative and resourceful were the ones with the fewest toys. Having fewer toys encouraged kids to use their minds to entertain themselves, although I'm sure I'll never see a parent give their child only one toy to play with ("Here Timmy, play with this spoon until you're 16"). The book Freakonomics found that many of the things parents do to increase their child's success (from moving to a better neighborhood to exposing them to classical music) did absolutely NOTHING.

     Hubby and I aren't buying the "educational" toys because we believe the boys learn more just by playing, whether at home with their damned complicated toys or with sticks at the park. Their vocabulary is advanced simply because we're constantly talking with them. You want your kids to be smart? Spend time with them and TEACH them while you love them. No video game that makes you spell is going to be as good as that. And while I'm swearing at the freaking Transformer robot-in-disguise that only someone with a PhD in engineering can play with, I convince myself that the boys are learning spatial abilities simply by seeing what NOT to do.

     Stupid toys.

I AM NOT ANOREXIC!!

     Yes, I've lost weight. Yes, I've lost alot of weight. YES I weigh less now than I did in high school. But for those who think I'm anorexic, EAT ME (ironically speaking).

     During high school I was chubby. My parents owned a convenience store and boy was it ever convenient to snag a chips, candy bars and sodas whenever the hell I wanted. To make matters worse, I had 6 hours of piano practice a day preparing for my final grade at The Royal Conservatory of Canada, weekend tutorials, band practice (I was a band geek) and cramming 5 years of high school into 4 (Canadians stupidly used to have high school that was 5 years long, and no I'm not a dummy). So exercise was not on my to-do list.

     College was different- I started joining aerobics classes because I gained the dreaded Freshman 15. I managed to maintain my weight but studying was not conducive to weight control! When I started with my doctorate...that was pure hell. Eating and studying with very little sleeping started my chub factor to climb. And after I got my first job, all I ever wanted to do was eat! Living in NYC was absolutely to blame- sooo many great restaraunts to sample every day, SOOO many calories! I got pretty damn chunky and I hated it.

    When I became engaged, I found my perfect dress and you know what my frickin' size was? TWELVE. I ordered an eight because damned if I'm going to be married in a bloody size twelve. I started the Atkin's Diet, lost 20 lbs in 2 wks (I don't recommend anyone do that BTW) and started practicing yoga. I got married in a size 6 thankyouverymuch -they had to keep taking it in and the seamstress started to cry everytime I came in for a fitting.

     There was a Bloom County cartoon where Opus the penguin and Milo discussed various different fad diets to try while a cockroach kept screaming "eat less and exercise more!" - he was ultimately squashed by an irate Opus. But its true- the oldy but goody actually works! Every time I eat, I only eat about 3/4 to half my meal. When I go out and they serve those stupid ginormous portions, I halve it, then eat half of that. Believe me, I'm full. I try to practice yoga 2 -3 times a week and chasing 2 toddlers all day definitely counts as my cardio! But the most important thing is portion control. I still eat chips and sweets but in moderation! And I NEVER FINISH MY MEALS.

     Here's where everyone is now crying "people are starving in Africa!!!" I don't think anyone should be offended if I throw out a portion of my food. No one else is gonna want it so let it GO. Early in our relationship Hubby hated seeing it go to waste and usually finished my meal off with his...he gained 25 lbs in 3 months when we started dating. Now he gladly watches it go to the garbage. If wasting a little food means I get to stay at my ideal weight, then pitch baby pitch!

     I don't barf. I don't abuse x-lax. I don't skip meals or go on banana-and-melba-toast fad diets. I just eat less and exercise more when I start to gain weight. So let's STOP talking about my weight at dinners, let STOP screaming at my pictures, and please for God's sake STOP asking if I have an eating disorder!!!

     Ahhh....I feel better now. :D

I Have Lupus and it SUCKS ASS!!!

     Yes, I have Lupus . . . and indeed, it truly sucks ass. I decided to "come out" in this blog to let everyone know about it since the only people I have as facebook friends are actually only friends! I don't want sympathy or offers of help (cash donations might be accepted! ;D ) but just support during the days when Lupus is kicking my butt.

     Systemic Lupus Erythematosis (or SLE) is an autoimmune disease where my immune cells attack my own cells. I'm lucky in that I have the "mild" version with crippling arthritis, horrible fatigue and sometimes massive hair loss. The bad versions all pretty much involve failures of every organ in your body. My knees sometimes swell so badly I can't walk much less work. The fatigue is really sucky- on bad days it literally feels like I'm underwater and walking through mud. I have to slather on sunscreen because it can trigger a flare (an arthritic attack and a really dandy body rash!) and I was hospitalized twice. I had a patient not much older than me who had kidney failure, heart problems, was completely bald, and swelling so severe she couldn't wear clothing because it wouldn't fit! (Please God don't ever let that be me!) I've been taking multiple medications since I was diagnosed about 9 years ago, with little to no sucess. But it's not a matter of taking meds to get rid of the pain. . . its how much pain I can take on a daily basis.

     For the last year and a half I've been on chemotherapy consisting of IV infusions once a month and they've definately helped! Yesterday was my first infusion of a brand new drug called Benlysta which is the first IV infusion specifically for Lupus. Even though my rheumatologist warned me I wouldn't feel better until at least a month, I'm hoping I'll feel some improvement soon. I have my good days and my bad days, ranging from feeling almost normal to feeling like I was 87 years old. Good days means I can play with my kids at the park. Bad days have me crying in bed at night hoping Hubby doesn't hear.

   One of the hardest things about Lupus is its deceptiveness- I don't LOOK sick. I don't have a gross things growing out of my skin (cancer), I don't turn another color (liver disease) or lose a finger (diabetes). I look perfectly fine but on a pain scale I could be off the charts. I tell people at work I have to go home early and I can tell in their gazes that some wonder if I'm really faking it. Having a disease is hard enough without having people judge you for it! That's why I've only told a few friends and family in the past . . . it was a burden but it was my burden to share. Poor hubby has the short end of it. . . he's the type to attack a problem until he fixes it but there's no fixing me. Sometimes I think he feels quite helpless but he deals with it by bullying me into taking care of myself. Alot. There are times when I've told him that his bids to decrease my flares are so stressful it might trigger a new flare! But that's love, I guess. :D

     I was in denial for a while when I was first diagnosed (boy howdy was I!) but its hard to deny a fact when its beating the living crap out of you! Now I take better care of myself, eat better and exercise regularly with yoga. Stress is one of my flare triggers so I try to surround myself with calmness and family and friends (which doesn't always go hand in hand!), and attempt to live my life the way I want to live it: with happiness and joy. I am not going to let Lupus define my entire life and hopefully this new therapy will allow me to have it be a very small, inconsequential part of my life.

     Lupus can kiss my ass!

Bugs Love ME

     I hate bugs. I hate everything about them. I don't care that they feed pretty birds and cool animals like the aardvark - they're repulsive and gross and have waaay too many legs. What do they need all those legs for I ask you? I'll tell you . . . to chase after me while I'm running all over creation screaming like a little girl. Bugs are the one thing that my world could do without.

     I don't think I'd have such an intense dislike of insects if they weren't so weirdly attracted to me. I am a mosquito magnet- everyone will want to stay near me because I'll get bit by every damn bug and they'll be bite-free. If there is a huge, hairy, nasty wingy thing within 1 mile, I'm the one they'll call on. Once, when Alan and I were in Washingston State, we were having a romantic walk along a pier at sunset. It was beautiful...the sky in blues and greens, the water quietly lapping against the beach, Alan gazing adoringly into my eyes! It was one of the most romantic moments in my life . . . up until a mutant roach with wings dived into my hair. I started running in circles screaming "Get it out! Get it out!" and the disgusting little bugger wouldn't get out! Alan was wrestling with it and the more he tried, the deeper the thing burrowed into my hair! I swear I think the thing took up residence and was buying throw pillows or something. Finally, just before I was about to lose it and jump into the water, Alan pried it out of my locks. I spent the rest of night traumatized, twitching at random times and thinking it was still in my hair.

     Another time I was getting up for work at 6am and walked into the bathroom to wash up. I came face to fangs with the most humungous spider I have ever had the misfortune to meet. It was literally the size of a golf ball and it had an alien intelligence in its 50 billion eyes. Every single one of those eyes followed me as I slowly backed out of the bathroom and slammed the door. I then proceeded to scream shrilly, ran to the the bedroom where Alan was sleeping and shook him awake. He jumped up, thinking there was a fire/burgler/earthquake/end of the world and then I told him to go kill a big spider in the bathroom. He got pretty mad. After telling me what to do with the spider (which was anatomically impossible), he went back to bed. I decided I really didn't need to brush my teeth or my hair and went to work hoping the eight-legged beast bit Alan's ass when he sat on the toilet to poo.

    The worst part of bugs in my universe is that I am completely incapable of killing them. Not that I don't want to...oh dear Lord I want to smush those horrid things into paste...I can't kill them even when I try to! Everytime I swing to smack them, I miss. And then I see them pointing and laughing and mooning me. Last night I brought M2 into the bathroom to brush his teeth when a very large, very hairy, very vomit-inducing fly buzzed in. I started shrieking and danced around while M2 starts laughing his little butt off. I decided to sacrifice my Cosmo magazine to kill the thing and thanked the Lord it was slow. I took a swing and got him!...but he buzzed off. I hit him again . . . and he gave me the finger. I smacked again . . .  and he started doing his nails. I managed to find the fly version of the Terminator! This thing had kevlar or something, I swear! Alan came in and made a few disparaging remarks, and while he was mocking me took a swing with the flyswatter. The SuperBug still lived! After 2 more hits Alan finally sent to him buggy hell, but it was scary how die-hard that thing was!

     I don't like bugs but bugs looove me. Maybe that explains the multitude of low-lifes that I've dated . . . I seem to attract the lowest form of life in every species! Every single creepy, crawly, nasty, slimy climb-in-your-ear-when-you're-sleeping-and-knit-slipcovers insect needs to die . . . unless you're cute. If you're a butterfly you're okay (I just have to look the other way while you're a caterpiller).

Which is probably a sad statement on how I see the world. Whatever. :D