Dig Duggars

So here's what's been up with the Duggars.  I kind of stopped watching after all of the episodes were about dentist appointments so I caught up this past weekend when they had a mother's day marathon. I haven't posted about them in like a year and in that year they have seriously had two kids that aren't twins.  This is nuts because in the past year most people in the world have had zero kids and some people have had one kid.  So two is really a lot for a year. 

In December or November, J'Michelle had a premature baby named Josie.  Some people are saying this is a little sign from God that they should stop having kids.  I think that's BS though, because plenty of people get pre-eclampsia and have babies when they are young and only on their first and second kid.  If anything, I say it's a sign from God that they should keep on having kids because it is obviously a miracle that 1 pound Josie didn't just slide on out when there was trouble brewing in the ol' uterus.

So Josie is in an incubator and whatnot in Little Rock, but the Duggars live in Bumblefuck, so they decided to move most of the family to a little house in Little Rock so they could be near the hospital where Josie is at.  Two thoughts about that. 1. The house was a historical site. What historical site, interested in actually preserving history, would let a family with 19 kids into their house?! (minus 3 because Josh was tending to his own homefront and John David and Justin (?) were tending to the Duggar homestead). 2. The home was originally built by some lady who was a big supporter of birth control.  The irony was not lost on JimBob, who pointed it out to the kids on moving day.  The house only had 1 bathroom, as opposed to the 8 bathrooms or something that they have in their regular house.  One of the girls pointed out that they had basically been living out of the bus for the past year, because they have gone on so many trips -- presumably to make the show interesting. 

Most of the episodes involved sitting around in the hospital talking about what a miracle Josie is and crying, neither of which I particularly care for.  The Duggar episodes I really like are when they show off their religious fanaticism, which just wasn't as evident in these episodes.  For instance, two of my favorite Duggar episodes are when they go to the Creation museum (amazing!) and when they go to some place where you can dig for diamonds and the proprietor notes that the site where they are digging is a million years old or something and JimBob just chuckles and is pretty much like "haha. She's means 6,000 years old...we all know the earth isn't a million."  Anyway there is none of that in the episodes I watched.  The closest was how JimBob basically forces the oldest girls to donate blood based on some passage in the Bible about blood.  Meh.  The most remarkable part about that was that I was like "wait don't you have to be 16 or 18 or something to donate blood?" Which obviously the girls are, you just kind of forget because their development is a little stunted.

So this whole thing culminated in Josie being allowed to come home.  She was still very little when they brought her home...like 4 pounds or something even though she was already 4 months old.  So, to be honest, she was kind of creepy looking.  Then they put her in this pink crocheted hat that had brown yarn on it that looked like it was supposed to look like curly brown hair.  On this fetus-looking infant.  That whole thing was kind of horrifying. Then they had to take her back because she couldn't poop.  I guess she had to go back to the hospital again after that, too, but I just read about that and didn't watch the episode. Apparently she is still there.

Overall the whole thing with Josie just doesn't interest me.  I don't care for a Baby Story or anything like that.  I like the Duggars because their lifestyle fascinates me.  But, really, all of the specials and things about how much laundry they have and how much food they buy and how they run the household has all been done.  Josie being born prematurely was probably a good coincidence in terms of ratings and maintaining viewer interest, but it just doesn't hold mine.

Their family friends the Bates, who also have 17 kids have made a couple appearances this season.  One when the Duggars went to help the Bates build an addition to their house (which according to my boyfriend was shoddy work. So I would like to see a special about the toxic mold that ends up in the Bates house) and one when the Bates came to visit Josie in the hospital.  In both episodes the Duggars and Bates shared space that at a maximum would be comfortable for a family of 6.  There has been much speculation that the Duggar-Bates unions are essentially forums for arranged marriages.  And that is what I would really like to see more of.  The older kids are in their early 20's and need to get out of the house.  That's too old to still be at home.  And if marriage is the only way out, then get those kids married off!

In Which I Make A Trimphant Return to Blogging

Well, kids, you asked for it.  I am back, hopefully consistently.

I took a break from blogging because my most popular posts were about my dating disasters, and now that I am no longer dating I felt like I didn't have a lot to write about.

But the universe has blessed me with a job which I believe will be endless blog fodder, so I am going to document it.  We'll see how it goes.

So for those that don't know, I got a part-time temporary job working for the Man in the capacity of one who will be taking demographic information of those who reside in my community in an event that happens every ten years.  To avoid people finding my blog by searching for the actual name of this operation, I will not be using it.

This week was the training week.  So far training has gone about as expected.  It has been pretty disorganized and I have spent a lot of time reading my book.  The people in my training group are overwhelmingly middle-aged white men.  You work in your neighborhood, and this demographic is pretty consistent with the overall demographic of my neighborhood so I guess I shouldn't be surprised.  But I know I am not going to be good friends with anyone.  I should note here for people who read my blog, but don't know me or haven't been updated since my last post - I have since moved out of the ghetto in Brooklyn  to lower Manhattan in a more middle/upper-middle class neighborhood. 

Today was the last day of sitting-in-a-room training, which is good because if I had to listen to this one obnoxious guy ask one more moronic question my head was going to asplode.

The story for the purpose of today's blog is about one of the middle-aged white guys in my training, named William.  William's MO throughout the training has been to talk too loudly about how no one is going to a) answer their doors to us b) be nice to us when we come by or c) give us any information that might help us.  William also had come up with several nonsense hypothetical scenarios that took up immense amounts of discussion time and would then complain that things were dragging on.  I had decided that I think that William's feelings about how others will act is more of a reflection on how he himself would act were someone with our job to come to his home.  And I was proved right in the following exchange in which I decided for some unknown reason to strike up a conversation with him.

William had mentioned that a local VIP lived on the same floor as him in his building.  During a break I made a little comment about this local VIP and somehow ended up mentioning which apartment complex I live in. William started off friendly and said "Oh I live in that complex too!" And I said, oh really? What building? And he answered that he lives in building X.  And I said "oh that's funny, I've never seen you, I live in Building X too!"  (This is not out of the ordinary.  The building has 35 floors and I probably have only seen a fraction of the people who live there.)

But this is where it turns weird.  It was like I could see on William's face that he was really wishing that this conversation would be over, but I couldn't really understand why. I plodded on and asked what floor he lived on and told him what floor I live on.  William got even more uncomfortable and said "that's secret."  "Ok", I said, "but when I see you on the elevator, I will know."  William just shrugged and it was clear that we both wanted this conversation to end.  I kind of half-continued to conversation with a weak discussion about development in the area, even though I should just have left him to himself, but I felt like I couldn't leave it at his weird rebuffal.

For some reason, I am still thinking about this conversation because it just felt so strange to me.  But, it proved my original assumption - William is expecting everyone else to be weird, cagey, and assholes because those are all true of himself.

There was a brief moment today when I thought I would end up paired up with him to practice going door-to-door, but mercifully that didn't take place because I was almost in tears at the prospect of two hours of that miserable conversation.  I am sure William feels the same way.

Actual door-to-door is on Sunday...updates then.
 In fun news, local VIP lives in my buidling...although I may never know on which floor.

I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike

A couple weeks ago the building inspectors came and left a notice saying that all this stuff that was in the halls of my building needed to be cleared out. So Mute Guy got right to work and cleared a bunch of stuff out. I live on the 3rd floor, so rather than haul my bike up the stairs all the time I just left it in the 1st floor hallway. Unlocked. Yes, you can see where this is going.

So around the time that Mute Guy cleared out all of this stuff I noticed that I couldn't see my bike in the hallway when I came in the front door, so I thought maybe he had moved it to the side. However, I didn't check because I also thought that maybe it wasn't him who had moved it, so I avoided checking.

Well, Saturday was a beautiful day so I got ready to go for a ride, went downstairs, and of course...no bike.

Mute Guy lives/squats in the basement, and as there was no other place for him to have put it I was hoping maybe he had taken it down there. So I mustered all the courage I have and went down into the basement.

My bike was not down there. However, there WERE two live rat traps (empty, thank god), a filthyMickey Mouse rug, a huge pile of work boot-type shoes that Mute Guy has apparently been hoarding, and a pretty unpleasant smell. So that was pretty awful.

My next step was to put a sign up, still hoping that maybe Mute Guy or someone else had moved my bike and might know where it is. About 10 minutes after I put my sign up, Mute Guy came knocking at the door.

Now, here is the problem with Mute Guy. He thinks people can understand him because he's not actually mute because he can still make Helen Keller moaning sounds. And I guess because he can hear the words that he is saying in his head, he assumes that it translates to his moaning. He is incorrect.

Anyway he comes up flailing his hands and groaning and getting very frustrated that I am not understanding him. So I got him a piece of paper on which he writes "do not open the door when you leave"

So I was like, oh are you not here about my bike? I'm just wondering where my bike is....

He writes "close door".

Now, what he is referring to is that the door to the building is shit and either doesn't lock properly OR locks so that you are unable to open it with your key. It's pretty awesome. And you have to really make sure it has been pulled shut when you leave.
But I still wasn't sure what this had to do with my bike, so I told Mute Guy that I do always shut the door but that I still don't understand what he means.

Also in between his writings he is continuing to moan about something and it's super awkward because I keep having to tell him I don't understand. Then he gets frustrated and motions for me to follow him downstairs, which I do and we go to the place where my bike used to live. He motions at the now empty space, and I confirm that yes that is where my bike used to be. Aaaand then he is flailing his arms around moaning and moaning and gesturing towards this other bike that's on the other side of the hall.

So I keep saying, yes we're talking about my bike. Yes this is where it used to be. Yes it's missing. Even though I was pretty sure he already knew all that, but I couldn't understand what else is was trying to ask or tell me.

Finally he writes something like "Miss gone bike"

Awesome. He might as well have moaned that for all it made sense. I told him I didn't understand and he wrote "what day bike stole", which is when I said that I was thinking he had moved it when he moved everything else. He made an exaggerated sad face and shook his head. "So you didn't move it?" I said. He shook his head. "So it's just stolen." He nodded. "Well, I guess I'll just take my stuff then" The bike thief had left behind my helmet, bike basket and unused lock, the latter of which Mute Guy took out of my hand, shook in my face, and moaned his clearest expression of the whole day, being that I should have kept it locked. Then through a complicated series of gestures and moans I gathered that he was telling me that it was possible to see my bike from the street if the front door was open, and that it would have been tempting for a bike thief. Which explains why sometimes he would move it to the other side of the hall that isn't visible from the door. And which made me feel like a jackass for never realizing.

He then took me to the front door to show me where it looks like someone may have dug into the door to push open the latch....maybe to steal my bike or maybe for something else. He then made a hand-phone gesture and moaned a little. My Mute Guy communication skills had improved by this point, so I let him know that I would call the landlord about the broken lock, to which he responded with a prayer-gesture and an almost-intelligible "please".

So, good-bye bike. You will be missed.

A Horrible Warning is the premiere destination for all your vices

So, as you know, every once in a while I like to see what people are searching when they come to my blog. In the past I have been THE place for pictures of Robin Weigert as Calamity Jane, as my blog is the first link in google pictures. Also, when people are concerned about warnings around amish friendship bread, google likes to refer them over here.
But recently, google searches leading to my blog have gotten notably more lurid.
The other day, a poor speller from Staten Island was interested in "laundry atiction". What is THEIR laundry addiction, I wonder? And was my blog helpful?
In Japan, someone was referred here due to their curiosity regarding, "why teenager take picture of lady underwear at escalator". We love to write about that here at A Horrible Warning.
Anf finally someone googled, "Went home from bar, had sex" and was led directly to my post about going home from the bar with someone and having sex, which is why google is so amazing.

In updated news, it turns out that I LOVE octuplet mom, what a personality disordered nutcase! I can't handle how much crazier and crazier she is turning out to be!

because I know everyone was wondering...

So, I do love the Duggars and their insane number of kids...I do not love crazy Octuplet mom. This is for a variety of reasons. One being that the Duggars can support their children and Octuplet mom can't. The second being that, while I do not agree with their beliefs, the Duggars believe they are doing this because it is what God wants them to do and I can respect that...crazy Octuplet mom just wanted "one more girl" and is selfish. Also, the Duggars have at least a little breathing room between their infants. Sure 8 kids under 10 is unreasonable...8 kids in infancy is fucked up. Finally, I think J'Michelle Duggar is a saint, and Octuplet mom sounds a little white trashy to me.

Measles Mumps Rubella

Here is a picture of measles:



Wikipedia says this is a picture of a kid with mumps. I suspect it is just an Augustus Gloop kid. Regardless, notice the swollen cheeks.


This is a picture of Rubella.



After the oil cleansing method's massive failure I decided to get back on some kind of acne medication. This was an extensive 2 months-long ordeal involving the insurance company and 2 stupid doctors and a bunch of frustration, until I finally went and saw a dermatologist that I liked. He prescribed me Retin-A and some other stuff.

The derm said that about 25% of people get worse before they get better but to "stick with it!!" I believe he may have been disingenuous about that figure, or I fall into the 25%. But basically, Retin-A was like, "Oh, what? You were self-conscious and upset about your face? Hm? You bail all the time on plans because you don't like to go out in public. Oh, well fuck you. Here, let me make you look like you went to get the MMR vaccine but it went horribly, horribly wrong and mutilated your face." For like 4 days my face just got worse and worse. The bottom of my face was all swollen up like Mumps up there. I will spare you the details of some of the nasty bumps, but it was a bad, measeley, pussy scene. And then it got red all over and hot and rubellaed. And also really hurt a lot. And also peeled and was flaky on top of the symptoms of MMR. Pretty awesome. This was all while I was home over Christmas...so the plus side is that I at least didn't have to come to work with my deformity. The negative was that my family, who I only see twice a year, now has to live for the next 6 months with their last memory of me looking like every Proactiv before image layered on top of each other.
It is now pretty much back to what it looked like when I went to the dermatologist and itches. Woo progress.

Anyway, supposedly my skin is gonna look sogood once it gets better. Fingers crossed, otherwise I am probably going to have to get a face transplant. I have decided that this is either a lesson on how to love myself from the inside, or punishment for every bitchy thing I have ever said about another girl.

squeaky clean like a rubber ducky

I did an intake today with a girl who is in a program at her high school for people with "school phobia". Did you know that such programs exist? I did not. Anyway, I asked her to tell me about the other kids in her class. I asked under the pretense that I was interested in if she has any peers she is able to socialize with. But really it was just my own morbid curiosity about what kind of kid is in a school phobia class. Wolf shirt kids, right? But this girl isn't like that, she's cool in a self-destructive Rayanne Graff kind of way, but I imagined she is an anomaly. She said there is a boy who carries a lunch box, but that was the only really good piece. I hope it has a superhero on it. Then we talked about how they were kids who have general social problems and try too hard. But I think my error was in framing the question as having to do with socialization, when really I just wanted to know about freaks.

I am possibly the most self-serving social worker ever.

FYI I carried a sailor moon lunch box in high school. And before you ask, yes it did have an included thermos.

Like coming off the pill that you take to stay happy

I am a full two weeks back on anti-depressants, and it pisses me off to tell you that they are working.
Goddamn mental stability!
It pisses me off mostly at myself for thinking that I could stop them, when it was a particularly bad time to try to do so. It pisses me off because I feel like I wasted my summer being depressed because I was too stubborn to take medication.
This summer was the longest I've been off anti-depressants since I started taking them over 10 years ago. And I'm not sure that my life will ever be stable enough for me to go off them again....not like I plan on being some vagabond for the rest of my life, but we always have stuff going on that can be hard and it turns out I can't deal.
I have certainly been depressed while on anti-depressants...usually then I just change the meds or change the dose or whatever. But being on anti-depressants doesn't make me happy. I think I have written before about how much I hate it when people call prozac a "happy pill". I am not an especially happy person. I will never be a happy person. Prozac lets me funtion. Depression is a little cocoon for me. It's actually comforting. On anti-depressants I can actually feel myself coming out of my little depression nest....it's like getting out of bed. There are days when being curled up in bed is pleasant and relaxing, and forcing yourself to throw those covers off and expose yourself to the air makes you feel vulnerable. I really feel like I don't have a blanket over me when I'm not depressed.

Anyway, it's making my life a lot better. Things are going better at my job and it feels more manageable. I get less frustrated with my supervisor, and I don't cry every time I am frustrated.

My roommates make me laugh more than anything. Stoner and her dyke friend were having a burping contest yesterday. That was awesome to listen to.

I threw away another empty bag of cheese that someone left in the fridge.

Tomorrow I am buying toilet paper to keep in my room because I have bought a substantial amount-at least 9 rolls-twice in a row. We are now down to the last roll and someone has brought in a single roll of Scott. Fuck that shit. Charmin's in my room, bitches.

Asperger's has these really short shorts she likes to wear around the house. Like you can see the bottom part of her ass when she wears them. But it's getting cold and we don't have heat. Some people, like myself, stop wearing their around-the-house shorts when it gets that cold. But not Asperger's. She apparently can't give up those fucking shorts. The other day she comes barrelling out of her room like she does and she is wearing the short shorts and what could best be described as thigh-high gym socks. The kind with a couple horizontal stripes around the top except the top part is at the top of her thigh instead of, say, the lower part of a calf. So she stomps through the living room with her asperger's gait and it's: short shorts, little bit of ass, and then thigh high gym sock on down.
I laughed as she was walking by. Fortunately her disorder prevents her from paying attention to her surroundings. She and I watched two episodes of the new duggar show today. I have a lot to say about the Duggars, but that is for next time.

I am psychic

For the following reasons:
One, I was JUST writing about the Duggars and now they are having their 18th kid!! Love it!
Why so many kids? Why?
In the above picture they only have 14 kids.
All of their names start with J. Most of them aren't too bad except for poor Jinger. For some reason that spelling makes me think of a vaginal infection.


Two: I had a dream that I would get this job. Which would be great if it wasn't like an hour commute. Day after I had the dream, they called for an interview. Today I had the interview and basically have the job if I want it. More on that later, but I need to get some house cleaning done b/c my seester is coming tomorrow.

mini-update.

I am obsessed with this blog One D at a time.
She posted today about the Schappell twins, and I highly recommend you read the post. Everything she writes about these twins is stuff I would say, and thus I believe provides immense insight into the core of my being. Seriously. I don't even know how to articulate that I think that my interest in freaks is possibly one of my most defining characteristics. Also, I just enjoy the blog in general so you should read it.
I have too many thoughts to blog about...but yes, the rumors are true, I am done with graduate school. Mostly I am just drained and confused and looking for a job, and there is too much to say about all of it blog about.
So I will write about my embarrassing political ignorance. Obama won the caucus in Guam. Guam has a caucus? Does that mean they have an election? Do they have electorates? They are not a state...does that mean Puerto Rico votes too? I do not understand. I am so woefully ignorant about all of this that it's shameful. This is the same thing that happened when I realized I could name all of the Duggar children and no one on the supreme court. I know all of this information about these conjoined twins and apparently nothing about our democratic process.
Ugh.
Also, I have a commentary about message board speak. Recently I have become personally offended by words I dislike (baby bump, snark, etc.). It turns out that that includes message board speak. I enjoy a LOLcat as much as the next girl. I can even slightly deal with things like "Pwned" etc. What I do not like are terms that they use on the weight watchers message boards as well as other message boards I have seen. DH=dear husband. DD=Dear daughter and so on. wtf? who would say that in real life. I think it makes the people who write that seem condescending and obnoxious. I'm getting angry just thinking about the type of person I imagine who would ever refer to their spouse as "my dear husband". I just got a little nauseous thinking that some people probably even say "dear hubby". Sick. I can't handle it. Why is it so distressing to me? No idea.
In happy news....blog readers will be pleased to note that because I am done with school and placement that I have re-entered unemployment. Can we look forward to another 6 months where Caitlin does nothing but watch cartoons, make crafts and write blogs about her thoughts?! We can only hope. But I think we would all agree that my blogs are best when I don't have a job, so get geared up.