Walking in the streets of my town

I've been doing a lot of walking lately. It's that funny kind of speed walking where it looks like you're repeatedly punching yourself in the face. I don't know exactly how fast I get, because I have yet to find an accurate and reliable pedometer (like that one that reported I walked 3 miles in 45 minutes and my average speed was 6 mph. Now, I'm no accountant or anything, but I'm pretty sure that math is wrong) but I can pretty much guess. Regardless of my actual speed, however, I'm still walking faster than anybody else I encounter on the sidewalks of this town.

There's nothing quite like walking faster than other people to make you really, really hate other people. Moreso. I've gathered a small list of the kinds of people I encounter on my daily struggles up and down the hills of Berkeley. What you're seeing is what I see, artistically reenacted.

People in love

Yeah, I don't care that you're two men holding hands and walking down the street; I'm sure you're very happy and whatever. I could give a shit that you stop to kiss each other and do a little bit of snuggling, I care that you made me break my fucking stride to go around your little street lovefest. MOVE!

"Nice" people

Excuse me, do I LOOK like I'm in the mood for a casual chat about my progress? Do you seriously think I'm going to stop what I'm doing to answer your fucking questions? NO. GO AWAY. And, really, this is just "look at the fat chick actually working out!!" voyeurism, anyway.

Clueless, selfish, fucking assholes

I shit you not, this happened to me just this morning. There are three of them and ONE of me. They're taking up the whole fucking sidewalk and does that donut bitch even move aside for me? NO, she just looks at me with that stupid fucking face (that I borrowed from reddit). Apparently she expects me to step into the gutter so as not to disrupt their casual stroll up the hill? HELL NO. So what did I do when I got up to them? Yeah, you guessed it, I fucking shoulder slammed her out of my way and continued on. Enjoy your donut, fattie! (MmMmmmm. Dooooooonuts.........)

This one is, no question, the worst

No explanation necessary.

This is the guy I like

He sees me, he steps aside to let me pass, we all go on our way. No chatter, no obliviousness. THANK YOU.

Although, this one is my favorite

Ahhhhh, nobody. Perfect.

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Raccoons

Awww, look how adorable this spawn of Satan is. It's like he's wearing a mask!!!!!!!

Last night, it was relatively early, it had just gotten dark. Child 2 and I were in the kitchen and the door was open; we have a deck-type thing right off our kitchen door with a chain link fence behind it and some big trees. Anyway, the door was open and we watched as a Mama raccoon and 2 babies walked past the open door, across the fence and up the tree. Child 2 was delighted, to say the least. "AWWWWWWWW," he says, "look at the raccoons! AWWWWWWWWW!!!!" I did not sputter with surprise and disgust, in order to maintain an air of calm, and just watched as the demon creatures slowly walked by our OPEN DOOR.

Raccoons: they suck. Here in the flatlands of Berkeley there are a SHITLOAD of raccoons during spring and summer. They come into the house through the cat door and there's not a goddamn thing you can do about it. The people who live around here think these fucking things are their pets, so they leave food out for them (and, I shit you not, when they go out of town they actually will ASK YOU TO FEED THEIR RACCOONS WHILE THEY'RE GONE.) So the raccoon population is not only smart, as raccoons are, they're also practically domesticated. But when they come in the house to eat the cat food, they make an enormous fucking mess of the place. They eat the food and they wash their little paws in the cat water (ok, that's actually kind of cute, at least in theory, but not at 7:00 in the morning when I come downstairs to a giant bowl of mud) and sometimes they just fucking trash the place for fun, I think. They break into bags of food and if they're energetic enough they'll go through your garbage, take the stuff they want and then scatter the rest of it all around your house.

So, what do we do about our nightly invaders? Nothing, really, there's nothing we can do. We can't block off the cat door, which is the simplest option, because we have 4 cats and no litterbox and they need to get outside to crap (well, we might actually have 3 cats now; I'll get back to you about that next week). What used to work was this thing where you take a radio and set it to NPR (any talk radio will do but this is Berkeley so NPR is kind of the law) and put it on the floor near the cat door. The raccoons will hear the voices and think there are people inside and not want to come in. The problem with this option is that 1. raccoons are really fucking smart and over the course of the summer will eventually figure out that it's just a radio and not a person and 2. the raccoons around here have no fear whatsoever of humans, so they really just don't give a shit if you're in there or not. You've got the cat food so they're coming in the door after it; that's just how it is.

For a while, when we only had 1 cat, we had one of those fancy magnetic collar thingies that the cat wore around his neck; the cat door was locked closed with a magnet and when the cat gets close to it the thingy he wears unlocks the door so that only he can get in and out. The problem with this version, however, is that raccoons are really fucking smart, and they figured out that the door isn't actually locked and all you have to do is press this little button thingy with one paw and then you can lift the door open with the other. But opening the door like this was was a bit of a process for them, so whenever we would come downstairs and try to chase them away, they would bolt for the cat door and find themselves locked in. They're smart, but apparently not rockets scientists, because when trapped like this none of them could ever figure out how to get the door open to escape, so they would then turn and run in a different direction... FARTHER into our house. And then we would be stuck with this fucking panicky raccoon running around our house, which is SO much worse than just an empty bowl of cat food, so we got rid of this option.

Don't be fooled! If a raccoon ever got the chance, he'd eat you and everyone you care about!

One time this happened and the goddamn thing ran up the stairs, into our bedroom, climbed onto our bed where a toddler Child 1 was sitting, sat on MY PILLOW, drooling and fucking growling at us. It was perhaps the most insulting thing I've ever experienced. He was on my bed! Drooling! And fucking growling! Are you kidding me with this shit? This is MY house you striped bastard, you don't sit on my pillow and growl at ME. Eventually hubs brilliantly thought to start the vacuum; no animal is immune from the vacuum, I don't care what species you are.  Too bad we can't just leave one running next to the cat door all night long....

Images courtesy of stockimages / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

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Dear Bitchy Mom at the Park Today

This is a repost; I originally wrote this about a year and a half ago. Still valid, though! :)

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Dear Bitchy Mom at the Park Today:

It seems that when you chose this particular location for your darling child's birthday festivities you did not completely think it through. You see, at public parks, on Saturday afternoons, on sunny days, there tend to be kids playing; and despite the fact that these children were not invited to your child's party, they are still, in fact, in the area.

We were able to figure out, pretty early on, that your child's name is Aidan (because, well, what child isn't named Aidan in Berkeley, right?) due to the fact that you had no problem having a loud, curse-filled discussion on your bluetooth headset, while facing the part of the park where we were (I guess so Aidan couldn't hear you? good thinking, you should protect him from that kind of language, I completely agree. We were also able to figure out that apparently it's inappropriate to RSVP for your child's party with just a text message, and such a faux pas should be punished in the harshest possible way). We then watched as the truck carrying the 25 foot bouncy castle arrived and men started setting it up. Being an adult, I easily surmised that my kid or his friend were not going to be sharing in these festivities so I started prepping them for this eventuality in advance. I mean, there's no social rule that says you have to let strange kids into your bouncy castle just because they're there; it's Aidan's party, after all. Being 5 year old kids, however, my son and his friend had some trouble with the concept and they still went over to investigate the scene. Perfectly understandable, right?

When you started yelling at my kid and his friend "HEY DON'T TOUCH THOSE BALLOONS, THEY'RE FOR DECORATION" I figured it was time for me to amble over and maybe do some damage control, if necessary. "She said we couldn't go in there," they told me, pointing to the enormous bouncy castle that contained about 10 kids having the time of their lives. "Remember how I said you guys weren't invited to this party?" I asked. "But Aidan said it was okay," they reported. Apparently they'd already had this discussion with your son who informed them it was perfectly fine with him if they went inside. Ahhh, to be young and innocent again, right? I thought quickly, though, and figured out the nicest and most child-friendly way to let them know that even though Aidan was cool, his mom was a control freak bitch who was never going to let some strange kids into her precious child's beautiful, perfect party. Don't worry, I was cool, they'll never know the truth about you. And when we left the park shortly afterward (we didn't really have a choice, did we?) I thought about poor Aidan, growing up with a mom like you. He may be cool now, but I'm sure you'll manage to somehow beat that out of him eventually.

In closing, next time please set the fucking thing up in your yard at home. I have a feeling you have the room for it.

Very truly yours,
Jill

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I like dogs, it's their humans I can't stand

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program of guest bloggers to bring you... something I actually wrote!!! We will resume our normal guest blogging schedule tomorrow..... unless I can actually write something again. But don't hold your breath....

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I have this lovely garden in my front yard, and I have a lovely gardener who comes by every now and then and helps me take care of it. I live in a lovely neighborhood, full of families, and many of these families have lovely dogs. As a result of the juxtaposition of living in a neighborhood full of dogs and having a lovely garden, my front yard is constantly full of dog shit. For the most part I don't notice it, because I don't actually do the weeding out there, but sometimes it gets so bad that 1. The whole front of my house smells like dog shit, literally and 2. There are fucking flies. Everywhere. Shit eating flies. FLIES. THAT. EAT. SHIT.

Actual pictures from the front of my house

So, I see people walking their dogs around the hood, while carrying little plastic bags; pretending to be good neighbors, although usually I see that these bags are empty. If they see you standing there watching them, they will pick up their dog's shit, put it into their little plastic bag and throw it away. Most of the time, however, they're not being watched. Which means they let their dogs shit in your plants and then they just fucking walk away.

They see me gardnin'.... they be hatin'

I don't blame dogs, dogs are cool, I like dogs. Pretty much every client I have has a dog and when I go to their office their dogs sit at my feet and lick my toes. I'm cool with dogs; they're just doing their dog thing. Dogs need to shit and dogs don't have toilets, they have no choice but to use our gardens and lawns and bushes to do their doggy bidness. I get that. It's not the dogs' fault. It's their humans' faults. Their humans who put them on leashes and walk them around the neighborhood and let them shit in my plants and then just fucking leave it there; as if it's not at all their responsibility because the shit is no longer inside their dog, it's now in the middle of my salvia leucantha and therefore no longer their problem.

I fucking hate these people. I want to set up a camera in my front yard so I can catch them on videotape, scoop up the shit, bring it back to their house and leave in their fucking garden. Yeah, that's not going to happen, I know. Instead, I figure I'll purchase or make a sign or a statue or a symbol of some sort. I came up with a few options and I can't figure out which one I like best. Which one do you guys think I should use?

1. These are little statues I see in other people's gardens. They're cute, yes, but way too subtle for me

2. Here is another one I found online. I like this one because you can actually see the poop emerging from the asshole

3. I figure, though, if I'm going to put a little ceramic or cast iron statue in my yard, it should be more interesting than that.

4. I kind of like that one, actually. But maybe a sign, instead of a statue? Easier to see? Makes a stronger point?

5. This is the sign my lovely gardener emailed me. She's such a nice person.

6. Not me, though! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!

7. Okay, that's too mean. After all, like I said, I do like dogs, as long as I don't have to live with one, in my house with me, and it's the people I really want to kill, so.... yeah....

8. This is actually the one that's been rattling around in my head for a while now. Seriously.

Hub's idea is to make little flags that say "shit" and instead of removing the fecal matter, you stick a little flag into each piece that they leave behind. It would make quite the visual statement.

What do you guys think? Any suggestions? Probably.

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A letter to the anti-Obama vandal on my block

Dear Anti-Obama vandal:

I don't know who you are or who you think I should be voting for instead of Obama, and frankly I don't particularly care. All I know is that during the night you came to my house and ripped the "Obama 2012" bumper sticker off my car, which was parked in my driveway, and discarded it in my flowers.

Putting aside the obvious, which is the astonishing immaturity of this action, I'm writing this letter to inform you of the following:

I had another one and I put it back in the empty space that you created. And I'm going to go online right now and purchase some more stickers so that if you come back and do this again, I will simply replace it again.

So, think of it this way: whenever you commit this act of vandalism against me, you are essentially making a contribution to the Obama 2012 campaign, because every sticker you tear off is just going to be another $3 that I will give them.

So keep it up, if you want! I'm going to get enough stickers to last me for the next 15 months. And just in case you want to do this every day? That will be about $1,350 you'll be "donating" directly to Obama's re-election.

Sincerely,

Jill


Note to my readers: I sent this letter to every local newspaper and mailing list I could think of.

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It's things like this, people.... THIS is why I blog.

Okay, so... this morning I'm driving Child 1 up the hill to his fancy schmancy new Social Skills Camp blah blah blah. I'm nervous about it, because I'm neurotic, and I always get nervous when I take him to a new place for the first time. (He's not nervous. I'm nervous. Whatever.) I had left early because I know that parking is a problem in the area, and yep! Sure enough, parking was a problem in that area, even though I was early. I'm nearing the camp place when suddenly.... I see a spot. And hark, the heavens did sing. And the world was glorious. And all was right in the world. So, I go to... you know... park there, when....

Actually, at this point I think some poorly drawn visuals might help you.....

So, here's me... approaching the camp place, when suddenly.... there it is

I look to see if anybody is coming in either direction (and this is kind of important... because nobody was fucking coming... in either direction) and I make this herky jerky suddenly-turn-my-car-in-the-direction-of-said-vacant-spot motion so that I can make a 3-point turn and ACTUALLY PARK THERE.

And then I pull backwards so that I can prepare to slide into the beautiful, beautiful parking spot

And then as I begin to make Step 3 of 3 Point Turn, I look ahead of me AND SUDDENLY THERE'S A FUCKING BLUE CAR PARKED IN MY SPOT. IN. MY. SPOT.

And I make eye contact with the driver and I do one of these, except with both hands

And she gives me this fucking shoulder shrug thing as if to say "Oh well. You lose." 

OH. MY. GOD.

At this point I've now got cars lined up on both sides, waiting for me to get the fuck out of the middle of the street so they can pass, and the FUCKING BITCH has parked her car, so I have no choice but to go somewhere else. I say fuck it and park in the red because I'm really pissed off and don't feel like circling around (and I didn't get a ticket!)

The red spot is about 3 cars away from where she is, and hey! We both get out of our cars at the same time. I yell "Seriously? Are you kidding me??" and she, of course, ignores me. BITCH!

We both get our kids out of our cars and then? We walk into the camp together. She's in front of me, and I'm staring fucking daggers into the back of her bitchy head, and oh my god I wanted to pull her shitty little hat off of it and shove it down her fucking throat, I was so pissed. I wanted to punch her in the back of the neck and then stomp on her back after she fell down. I wanted revenge.

However (unfortunately?) I was thinking clearly enough to know that I didn't want to make a scene in front of her kids, and my kid; I mean... I'm not a crazy person (okay. I'm not a complete crazy person). But mostly I didn't want to stress out Child 1, and seeing his mom confront a skinny (I assume; I didn't actually get a good look at her) bitchy Berkeley mom minutes before he starts at a brand new unfamiliar camp would definitely stress him out.

So I made a choice to not confront her shitty little face about how much of a bitch she is and I was forced to swallow my rage in order to provide a good example for my child. And as I walked into the camp, picturing myself squeezing her throat until it snapped, I wished that I had some kind of outlet for my frustration and anger.

When suddenly... I remembered! I know about 501 people who might find my pain and anguish amusing, especially if I include poorly drawn visuals! I'll channel my rage into a post! I'll blog about this! That will ease my pain.

Yeah, it didn't. Of course. I'm still pissed. And now whenever I go back to the camp I'm going to be looking for her, and hoping that I can run over her foot with my giant car.... or something..... Or? Maybe I can find out who she is so I can email this post to her.....

BITCH!!!!

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How a 5 year old boy says Thank You

In these parts, when a little kid has a party, you don't go to Target and buy them a gift. I actually really like that about this town, because, honestly? I have enough crap in my house; crap with parts that get lost the minute you cut through the plastic wrapper on the box. Crap that gets scattered around my house; under tables, inside drawers, on the lawn for some reason, all over the place. And the older the kid gets, the smaller the parts apparently get, and the pointier and more painful they become when you step on them with your bare feet. Depending on the age of the kid and the, uh... "politics" of the parent, you generally have one of two options for a little kid birthday party gift.

Option 1: The Book Exchange. This is where you pick a "gently used" book out of your own book collection, wrap it up and bring it. Everybody throws their wrapped gift into a pile and at the end of the party every kid gets to pick a book and bring it home with them. This allows all the children to get a gift, not just the birthday boy or girl. YAY!!

Option 2: Find something in your house, wrap it up and give it as a gift. Why? Something something consumerism something something better for the environment something something.... something. I actually love this option, because it means that I get to go through my house and find some crap I no longer want, and then it becomes your crap and no longer my problem.

None of this is relevant at all to the point of this post, by the way, I just felt like talking about crap for a few paragraphs.

Last week one of Child 2's BFFs had a party and we brought along a little plastic dinosaur (that I spotted on the floor by the front door when we were on our way out and snatched it up because I had completely forgotten about the whole "bring a gift" thing). This week, his buddy gave him a thank you card for the little plastic dinosaur (apparently this is the protocol when you receive wrapped crap. I was not previously aware of this and will try to remember in July when Child 2 turns 6).

I was lucky to be there when the card was handed over and was able to have the child read it to me, otherwise I would have no fucking clue what it says....

And then on the inside, in what is obviously the child's mother's handwriting, it says "thank you for the dinosaur, I bring it into the bath with me."

Adorable.

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Berkeley Urban Blight

I read this article today on a local website that I like to visit: City says it is addressing Telegraph Avenue rat problem. The article discusses the issue of a rat infestation in a vacant lot in the middle of downtown. It says: "the vacant lot ... was infested with rodents, drawn there at least in part by people leaving food out for them" and was accompanied by this picture:

And then in the tag at the bottom of the article, the subject matter is labeled "Berkeley Urban blight."

According to Wikipedia, Urban blight, or urban decay, is "the process whereby a previously functioning city, or part of a city, falls into disrepair and decrepitude. It may feature deindustrialization, depopulation or changing population, economic restructuring, abandoned buildings, high local unemployment, fragmented families, political disenfranchisement, crime, and a desolate, inhospitable city landscape."

Yeah, I'm sorry online magazine, but there may be a rodent infestation on a vacant lot in the middle of downtown, but it's not urban blight. It's a bunch of fucking hippies thinking that all animals are sacred and should be respected as our equals, sharing the planet with us. (Kumbaya, my lord.... Kumbaya.....) Kind of like my neighbors who ask you to feed their raccoons for them while they're out of town and are subsequently surprised when the fucking things keep breaking in through the cat door, this problem has been intentionally created by irresponsible human beings. Urban blight happens because of a variety of socioeconomic factors, none of which include "flaky, rat feeding hippie."

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Dear The Hippies of Berkeley

Hippies of Berkeley!

You can't have it both ways. Either you have a cell phone that you use to call and text people, and with it the cell phone towers that you think are ugly and dangerous, or you don't have cell phones and therefore no cell phone towers. Pick one.

Love,
Jill

P.S. You can take my Blackberry when you pry it from my cold, dead hands.

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Even the politicians in Berkeley are crazy!

I don't have a big enough readership here to cause any kind of local controversy by posting this, so Imma go ahead and talk some shit :)

I run a mailing list for parents who have kids with special needs at the school district in which my kids are enrolled. Last week we put together a list of questions specific to our issues and emailed them to all the people who are running for school board (there are 6 of them).

Our questions were pretty straightforward, and if you're running for school board I think it's safe to assume that you would have at least an opinion on them, don't you? Here's a sample:

• Some people assert that students with IEPs cost the district too much money. What are your views about the cost of special education and how to meet the needs of students who have disabilities? 
• Many parents report not receiving updates on their child's progress in meeting IEP goals and are not aware of such data being recorded. What are your views on using such data to assess the effectiveness of special education programs and how else should the district evaluate special education? 
• How do you think the district should address the challenges of inclusion and improve outcomes for inclusion students?

The candidates were to send back their answers to our questions by Friday (the one coming up). I just heard back from the first person. Here's a sample of what SHE said:

School is an institution within this abusive society, that serves the abuse.... The root of the word education, as you know, is educe - and you know that's about that all people come with content; that that content is NOT, endless language to the contrary, respected - or ABLE to be respected - by school. School is where we are fit into this society at the various levels permitted.

DUDE! You realize you're running for fucking SCHOOL BOARD, right? Shouldn't you, oh, I don't know, have a better attitude about the whole thing???

Consider the main work of the U.S. is war - conquest, service to The Rich's accumulation of property/wealth and power. Their wholly owned legislatures rule control by The Rich of our labor, by which They rape Earth.

Oooohhhhh. Oh, I see. You're one of THOSE. You're like that neighbor of mine who cornered me last year to tell me about how autism was caused by wireless internet and how she can hear it at night, everybody's wireless networks, they're all buzzing around her head and don't people see the connection in the rise of autism cases and the relatively new prevalence of wireless internet? She's always riding her bike past my house with a clipboard, talking to herself probably about how Bush was the mastermind behind 911.

Needless to say, this woman's entire email was like this and there was absolutely no mention of IEPs or inclusion or nuthin!  If anybody lives in Berkeley and wants to know who not to vote for for school board, email me and I'll give you her name! :)

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Autism, and why I (seriously) love Berkeley

I saw the You're Perfect Guy again this morning; I was driving to work and he was skateboarding down University holding up his sign. I smiled and waved at him. He smiled and waved back. I thought "I can't wait to blog about this!" and as I drove I started thinking about what I would say in a new edition of Spotted in Berkeley. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I wanted to say more about this town than just to make fun of it like I usually do.... and now here we are.

First of all, how cool is that, really? Here's a guy who has taken it upon himself to spread the message that no matter what, you're perfect just the way you are. What a great message to be spreading around town, and so true. We're all so hung up on societal norms and customs and how are you supposed to behave and what are you supposed to wear, but all of that is just bullshit. This guy has it right; none of that matters, because you, and I, and my kids and your kids: we're all perfect, just the way we are. I know that I make fun of this place a lot, because it's really like no other place I've ever been, but really I love it here. I'm happy that we have a guy here who does that and I wouldn't want it any other way.

When I tell people that I have a child with autism, I'm often asked what that means, or how "does it manifest?" or something like that. I may go on and on about focus and attention and language delays or cognitive development or whatever, but really what it comes down to is that my kid is weird. He is, he's the weird kid. He flaps his hands in front of his face, jumps up and down and then runs back and forth pretty much all day long. When you ask him a question he's very likely to answer you with "This is the platform elevator at the 24th street Mission BART station." Most people don't have any idea what to do with all of this, but that's okay. We live in a town where it's no big deal that a dude riding a skateboard will be holding a sign that says "you're perfect," or that another dude wearing a pink leotard would be riding a unicycle down the street. That's just how it is around here, people all over are weird. This is the perfect place for my kid to be weird, and I don't mean to sound snotty about it, but I'm so fucking glad this is where we live. I would never move, ever; and for that reason, alone.

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