I'm a Bulls Fan

I don't mean the Chicago Bulls. I mean real bulls. I'm a fan of any bull that gets into a stadium with a man in a flouncy shirt. Hemingway called bullfighting art, but so what? He was a womanizing drunk. Bullfighting is archaic and I believe the only true justice is when a bull turns on the matador and kicks the living shit out of him.

Over the weekend a matador in Spain was stabbed in the chin and throat by his bull. There is footage of him gasping for air and staggering to walk. Perhaps this will engender debate about whether this "sport" could be outlawed. I understand its cultural but hell, so was owning slaves at one point. Maybe if the next matador gets gored in the groin, that'll do it....

Why are you my Facebook friend?

I've been noticing that my Facebook posts, even the most audacious, fail to elicit responses from a handful of people. These same people reached out to me and requested that I be their Facebook friend. A couple of them even went so far as to check out my photos and make comments as part of their friend request.

So they should be kind of interested in me, right?

Ahh, no. They never write one single comment. They don't even use the "like" function. I don't get it. Why are you my friend? I am sure I've made comments about things you can relate to. I am seriously tempted to write a post that says: "I was just diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. Please pray for me," just to see if they will respond.

I guess the upside is that my real life friends give a crap and find me interesting....so screw you, fake virtual friends!!

Right now I'm crazy for

A little band out of Long Beach called Avi Buffalo. Unfortunately they just received some major press coverage so now everyone will like them. On one hand, I could loathe them because the band members are all of 19 - and I think one of them is still in high school - but on the other hand, how can you reproach such inventive, GOOD musicians? Just check out these lyrics:

I walked in on a plan to disolve all your wishes

But I couldn't help your mouth which I missed by two inches

Maybe I thought that you and I could run away alongside

But I didn't understand I was a cold tear in your eye.

Check out the photo. How cute are they??

mumps, whooping cough, measles, oh my

Today's Los Angeles Times carried a story about a resurgence of mumps in LA. I had to do a double take. Mumps? What the hell? Are eight track tapes also coming back in style?

Unfortunately, the diseases of childhood (mumps, measles and whooping cough) are still here. And rising. Unbelievably, two children died from whooping cough this year. I curse all the parents who refuse to vaccinate their kids because they are convinced they will get autism. That myth was widely disputed and eventually dispelled, morons. Meanwhile, you are enrolling your twerps in kindergarten and putting hundreds of elementary school kids at risk for mass outbreaks. Our local charter school in Marina del Rey seems to have attracted the most loons, with 40% of its student population unvaccinated. Thank you all very much.

Must move to remote island soonest.

It's not easy being green

For about four years now, J and I have been a Green Couple. Not the preachy, sanctimonious kind you try to escape at the market or bookstore, though. I was semi-organic when I met him and he was an organic enthusiast who bought produce at the local farmers market and used air freshner from Whole Foods. About two years ago we decided to use only environmentally safe cleaning products and buy eco-friendly toys and clothes for Magnus. Being green has given us peace of mind, but its also made us tired and nearly broke.

There have been days when I wished I was 21 again and thought nothing about eating at a fast food restaurant and buying strawberries from Raphs. Not only is it expensive to be green, its time consuming. You can't just go to the big supermarket and pick up everything you need in one trip. We start at 8:30 a.m. on Saturdays and go to our farmers market, where we buy all our fruits, veggies and our organic coffee. That'll eat up about $45. Then we drive 20 minutes to T-Joes for the majority of our supplies. $140 easy. However, they don't carry soy yogurt, chlorine-free baby wipes or Seventh Generation dish soap. So that's our third trip of the day, to Whole Foods, where we quickly drop another $30-$40. By noon I am completely exhausted and forlorn as I eye the last $1o bill in my wallet.

I realize we are lucky that we can afford to eat super fresh every day and that Magnus already knows what real food is supposed to taste like. I'm not complaining, just quietly whining. Could I get a coupon once a year, or a "Frequent Greener" break? Help a non-annyoing greeny out.

I Need an Intervention

I am proud to admit that I'm not a couch potato. Despite my hectic schedule, I still make time to read or go for a walk instead of plopping in front of the tube in the evenings. I work with people who talk about all the shows they watched over the weekend and am amazed they can process that much crap.

But it's not all good news. I have a deep and dark secret that threatens to undermine my credibility and the respect of friends and family: I am fast becoming addicted to the god-awful Real Housewives series on Bravo. There, I said it.

Before you start condemning me about what a horrific show it is, how it supplants positive images of women with stereotypes and could very well signal the end of the world, hear me out.

First, I KNOW how bad this series is. And you know what? I don't care. I know there are good shows out there, like Lost and Glee and the CSI franchise. I'm just not someone who watches them. Much more tempting for me to watch these insecure broads talk smack about their friends, bemoan their physical imperfections and plan their ice skating parties. Sue me.

The hard part has been trying to explain my fascination with the show to my husband, who is by all accounts rational, empathetic and open-minded. When he came home last week to find me watching the Jersey episode, the first words out of his mouth were: "No. Are you effing kidding me?!" Now when I tune into the show I feel like a drug addict, like I'm doing something so shameful and destructive that I should be banished to a transitional facility where I can get help.

I think the worst thing is that I cannot articulate what draws me to these women. I would never be friends with any of them. I don't respect them that much and certainly don't aspire to live their lifestyle. So what is it? The classic case of witnessing a horrible car accident and not being able to look the other way?

Let's go with that explanation for now.