The Doldrums

God I'm bored. Really bored. This time of the summer is when I always picture myself, hanging on a cliff's edge by my fingertips, waiting for the summer to be over. Even as a kid, by August I was bored. The festivities of the 4th of July were over. The Barnstable County Fair had come and gone, I was suffering from sunburns and had to stay out of the water, or in the case of 1976, had contracted poison ivy so bad I had to completely stay out of the sun & out of the water. By mid-August, my cousins and I had had our sleepovers, done tons of crafts and paint by numbers, been to the movies, played mini golf, had gotten as much out of "the game" as we could and were running out of ideas where to take it next. Then in late August was the special hell known as "shopping for school clothes", Sha & Di went home to Long Island (till they moved to the Cape in '77), and summer was finally over.



"The game" was a western-themed game that we played all the time. If one of us said, "let's get a game going", the others knew what she meant. We had cowboy hats, cap guns & holsters, vests, and in addition to our pocket knives, we made sharp "knives" by rubbing the sides of our popsicle sticks on the driveway till we had a sharp point. We built forts, we played in the woods and at the cranberry bog. We'd play all the roles, both bad guy and good guy....we adopted boys' names b/c girls were "too girly" in the old west. Di & I even went so far as to rub dirt on our faces to make a 5 o'clock shadow. I wore my long hair in braids. My parents' neighbor, Miss Taylor, was horrified the day she saw Di & I galloping across the front lawn as she drove by, shooting at her w/ our cap guns. We were 10. She was an ultra leftie, anti-gun, intellectual and she read my mom the riot act about letting us play with guns. Surprisingly, I didn't get in trouble. My mom told her we were just playing our western game, we were just kids and what's the big deal, they aren't real guns they're just toys. She just advised Di and I not to "pretend shoot" at anyone again. (Val - I know, you're as horrified as Miss Taylor....)



So here I sit, on July 31, dreading the long haul thru August till it's finally Labor Day weekend. At least this year we have our trip to the Bay Area to break up the month. Only 2 more weeks!!



Things Happen For A Reason

Although it's not always evident at the time. I have been lamenting the fact that I was unable to make my annual trip to Canada this year. I had planned on visiting Whistler, in the mountains, about a 2 hour drive north from Vancouver. I hadn't actually chosen dates to go, but it would have been either last week or this.

Yesterday, this happened on the Sea to Sky Highway between Vancouver & Whistler:



The road is going to be closed for at least 5 days. That means anyone who was already in Whistler is stuck there, unless they take an unbelievably long detour east to Lillooet, south to Hope, and then west to Vancouver. We're talking about a 6-7 hour trip, on winding, mountain roads w/ only one lane in each direction, traveling with trucks, RV's and everyone else who is now unable to access Whistler by way of Vancouver in either direction. I'm sure it's a very scenic route, but between the wear and tear on my car, and gas prices (which are over $5 in BC), it would have been a real pain in the ass.



Running on Empty



Steve nearly sent me home today around 12:45 or so. He's leaving in a couple of weeks for his annual trip to visit his family in Michigan. Between now and then, he has 2 trials, 4-5 Motions and at least 6 Show Cause hearings. So besides preparing for all of those Court appearances, we are also having to deal with other issues on other cases. Our copier is going nonstop all day long. Steve's trying to prepare and read case law for all of these upcoming things and won't take any calls, which means Debby and I are lying our asses off to everyone who calls by saying he's on the phone or with a client or at Court, and, as a result, we are taking a great deal of abuse. Most of the people who are the biggest offenders are those who have created HUGE problems on their own over the course of time, and call us 6x a day to bitch about it and demand that we do something NOW.



Last week I was at the end of my rope and I took down an uber snotty King County attorney on the phone. I didn't give a shit if he told Steve, b/c whenever something like that happens, I'm the first person to inform my superior of the situation. It hasn't happened much, but over the course of 18 years in this biz, it happens. For one thing, King County looks down on Pierce County like we are their white-trash, embarrassing, fat, stupid stepsibling. I can be sitting in traffic, looking at a blocking accident in front of the Tacoma Dome and the damn traffic reports only focus on precious "Seattle and the Eastside". Traffic's backed up 10 miles from fucking Fort Lewis north to the T-Dome and the only "south" report they do cuts off at I-5 in Federal Way and Hwy 167 in Auburn, coincedentally, right where the county line divides us.



Anyway, Steve had already had a verbal confrontation w/ King County Dickhead Lawyerman the week before and hung up on the guy, bellowing from his office, "FUCK YOU! FUCK THAT! I AM NOT TALKING TO HIM AGAIN! I AM SERIOUS. I WILL NOT TAKE HIS CALLS AGAIN. HE CAN JUST GO FUCK HIMSELF!" Then we were treated to a loud, but entertaining, re-enactment of the conversation, w/ all of the obscenities he'd wanted to use on the phone, but couldn't.



Well, before he hung up on him that day, Steve had told the guy we'd have our documents to him by a certain date, forgetting that it was when Debby was gone a couple of weeks ago. I just didn't have time to do it before the date that was promised. As soon as Deb got back, I started the copy job from hell. When all was said and done, over the course of 3 days, I probably used, easily, 6-7 reams of paper. At 500 pages to a ream. You do the math. So Snotty Snottington calls and unfortunately, I was the one who answered the call. I told him Steve was at Court. The guy blew, "WELL YOU BETTER TELL HIM THAT IF I DON'T HEAR FROM HIM IN 45 MINUTES I'M FILING A MOTION TO COMPEL!!!!!" I said, calmly, "I'm looking at the documents stacked on my desk right now....it's at least 6 inches high, we were short staffed last week, I was the only one here and Steve had a trial." He goes, still ultra belligerent, "He told me he'd have the documents to me by MONDAY!" I said, "I understand that but with his trial, I just didn't have a chance to copy these documents. There are thousands of pages of them. It takes time!"



Do you know what that fucker says to me? "How much 'time' can it take?! You just stand at the copy machine and make copies!" Excuse Me? What did you just say to me? Oh no he di'int!!! OK Asshole, that's it. I don't get paid enough to take this kind of abuse, you know? So I said with a whole lotta 'tude in my voice, "You know what? Why don't I just send this stack up to you the way it is? That'll save me so much time!.....Then YOU can sort through each one and YOU can figure out what document category they go in!"



Dead silence on the line. I wait. He stutters clearly taken aback, "Well...well... they are supposed to be sorted into the categories." I said, "Yes. I know that. And that is the way this firm does things. Now, if you want it done correctly, you will give me till Monday to complete the copying and organizing. But if you want them now, then you get them the way they are." Needless to say, I got my extension and Steve LOVED the way I handled it. He thought it was a hoot.

Which leads me to today.

This morning, while Steve and Deb were out of the office at a terminally ill client's home to execute her estate planning, I got a call from one of my least favourite clients. She's a pushy, passive-aggressive Russian bitch from hell. She thinks she can just call us up, snap her fingers, and we'll do her bidding. I fucking hate this woman. Her 2nd husband is SO pussy whipped it's not even funny. So she calls and in her sickly sweet yet dripping with poison tone she says, "We are going to Australia in a week and a half and we need our estate planning done." Now, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume that she's known about this trip for weeks. Maybe even months. Through gritted teeth, I tell her that Steve's going out of town on 8/8 and has 2 trials, yadda yadda yadda. What I wanted to say was, "too bad, so sad, you should have called us when you made the reservations, not a week before your fucking trip, you stupid bitch." This woman has a way of being a real c**t through a smile. She says that she and her husband can be at our office at 7 am, or any time, any day, to sign. Well you stupid cow, WE STILL HAVE TO DRAFT THE PAPERS AND WE DON'T HAVE TIME! So on the message I took, I wrote in red, "PUSHY BITCH!"



The next call I get is from a long time client, who needs help "today!!!" On that message, also in red, I totaled up how much he and his deadbeat son owe us for PAST legal work ($1200 for him, $500 for his son) which have been on our books for at least 2 years. Where does this fucker get off demanding that we do something for him "today" when he HASN'T PAID HIS BILL?



When Steve got back and saw the messages w/ my editorial comments, he was howling w/ laughter. Then, at 11:30 when I'm supposed to be taking my lunch break, a luxury I have not fully enjoyed in nearly 2 years, he tells me that he's decided he wants to file a child support modification on this same case I'd just did that huge document production for and oh by the way can we to get it out w/ the 1:30 messenger? Now, Brian has always told me that I should never play poker b/c I'm such an easy read. I must've given Steve quite the withering look b/c he starts laughing and says, "Uh oh, you're gonna give me the finger aren't you!" I went back to my office to draft the papers. I start working on the forms and all of a sudden, I am nauseous, sweating, my mouth is completely dry and I'm dizzy. Here we go. I'm going to pass out again. Marvy. I willed myself to stay conscious, turned on my fan and got back to work.



When everything was in final and I was making the copies to send out, Steve, became very serious, & said, "Are you OK? Because you look sick." I said, "Is it that obvious that I'm thisclose to passing out?" and he goes, "yes, it is. if you need to go, you should go. Did you eat?" I shook my head. He goes, "Oh man! C'mon Jo, you can't DO this! You have to take lunch!" I said, "It's fine, I'll eat later. Right now I'm too nauseous to eat anyway." But I knew that if I take off mid day, I've fucked him over royally. Work that could be getting done.....that NEEDS to be done....will have to wait because I had to go home, and quite frankly, it can't wait. I told him I would stick it out till he left for an appt. at 3 and he said that was fine. He knows that if one of his staff becomes wounded, he's screwed. So I left at 3:15. You guys know how much I love my boss, but I'll be really glad when he goes on vacation b/c at least we'll have a small respite from the nonstop shit storm that is my office.



So onward we plod. Only one more month before blessed fall and the best time of the year arrives.

The 2nd annual Julie & JoJo Go to Portland Trip

I'm pleased to report that Julie and I have selected dates for our second annual trip to Portland, Oregon, in September. The two things we know for certain are that we are going to check out Multnomah Falls and we aren't staying in the same hotel we stayed in last year. I can't remember the name of it....we just call it The Hotel Sordid. Further updates as events warrant.

And Finally: Stupid Boys and Their Stupid Boy Penises

Sticker seen on an SUV in Sumner yesterday: "Boobies make me smile." Give me a break. Get a life, boys. They're breasts. Calm down. So as I passed him, I looked over with the biggest most malevolent sneer I could muster, and mouthed "LOSER" at him. Since he flipped me off, I assume he knew exactly what I was referring to. I enthusiastically returned the bird.

I get home and recount my story to Brian. After I tell him about the sticker but before telling him what I did, he eagerly jumps in with, "So when you passed him, did you flash him your tits?" Sigh.

Get Up, Stand Up, Stand Up For Your Rights...

"How many cops does it take to arrest 1 drunk homeless guy who isn't even giving them any trouble?"


That was an email I received from Brian last week, after lunch. I thought it was a new joke or riddle. I'll bite: How many cops does it take to arrest 1 drunk homeless guy? I eagerly awaited the punchline.

Yeah. It wasn't a joke.

Brian went on to explain:

"I was coming back from lunch and I saw this King County deputy pull over to talk to a homeless guy standing on an island thingy, next thing I know I hear sirens and see 3 cop cars screaming back towards them. I figure something's up so I turn around. I get back to where they were and there are 3 cop cars and 5 cops all with lights on etc.

One old homeless guy is already cuffed and sitting on the ground. Here come 2 more cars with 3 cops.

I had a bad feeling since all the cops had those "dick" looks on their faces, so I park nearby and then walk up to within about 30 ft and just stand there on the sidewalk watching (as a citizen observer). Of course the cops don't like that at all. They start asking me what I'm doing, I tell them. They tell me to move on, I say, "No, I'm standing 30 ft away on a public sidewalk, I am in no way impeding you and have told you why I'm here."

Here comes the cop attitude, at which point I advise them they are f**king with the wrong person, I'm not a homeless guy they can abuse or some street punk who runs his mouth, I know what I'm talking about and I'm a member of both the ACLU and Center for Constitutional Rights. At that point the cop turns away and talks to his buddies, I continue to stand there, observing.

Then they tighten his cuffs and the homeless guy swears at them, they then say they are going to arrest him for swearing at them. At that point I get out my cellphone and hold it up like it has a camera in it. Well you can imagine the reaction that got.

They asked if I wanted to go to jail with him. I replied that I'd already been there more than once, before he (the cop) was even born, and it's no big deal (this really pisses cops off as that is their biggest threat, and when you deride it they HATE it!). They ask me what the camera is for, I told them, "So I could document an illegal arrest. "Illegal?" they say. "Yes" say I, "the Supreme Court has ruled time and again that profanity towards law enforcement is covered under Free Speech." Now the homeless guy is starting to take interest. I see him watching me so I yell to him, "IF THEY ARREST YOU CALL THE ACLU!!" He nods.

Cops have a quick conference and then release the homeless guy and tell him to leave and if they see him again he goes to jail.

Then the cop I had the conversation with says: "And you better hope I don't see YOU around either." I then hold the phone up towards him and ask "Is that a threat Deputy? Can you repeat it a little louder?" HAHAHA, he got in his car and they all left.

Punks."

The really amusing thing is that Brian doesn't have a camera in his cell phone; he was totally bluffing, but the cops didn't know that. And while Brian was quite animated when re-telling me the story when we got home, I know that he was quite calm when he was talking to the cops. They really did pick the wrong person to fuck with. But seriously, 5 cruisers and 8 cops for ONE drunk homeless guy? Who wasn't even doing anything except maybe panhandling in the island?

....Get Up, Stand Up, Don't Give Up the Fight!

Memories

One year ago this week, I went on my wonderful 4-day solo odyssey, where I took this....

...to get here.

Had ideal weather....

to spend a lovely morning here.

Then took this....

...to get here.
Ate a delicious meal here.

Saw this.
Shot that.

Bought this.

So I can't get to Canada this year.

BUT, in less than one month, I'll be heading to my other favourite city, San Francisco to attend Donnie & Mike's wedding! Aren't they a cute couple?

I'm not sure how many of my fave haunts I'll be able to see in such a short period of time, but if I drag myself out of bed early enough, I might get to my old neighborhood, the Richmond District.

Men are from Mars and all that rot

"Oooo! Lookey!" I squealed, as I opened up a solicitation for a new craft kit of the month club. "A bead kit of the month! Hm. Cool projects...." as I scanned the flyer and just automatically reached for the acceptance card and envelope.

I'm more talking to myself than anything else. Brian's watching TV and w/o looking away he goes, "Why don't you just make the projects from your own stuff, using the picture?"

"But, it's a bead kit of the month club."

"You have enough beads to sell your own bead kits of the month club!"

It was like I was speaking Swahili and he was speaking, well, German.

Again, I beseech, "But this is a BEAD kit of the month club." What isn't he getting here? Number one, it's a craft kit of the month club. I love those. I already belong to one. I've belonged to some kind of craft kit of the month club for many years now. Number two, and most importantly, this one has beads. How can this point not be crystal clear to him? What part of "bead kit of the month club" isn't he getting?

Finally, exasperated, he looks at me and goes, "That would be like, back when I was brewing beer, if I stock piled all my grains and hops, but kept buying new ones to brew just new beer, and never using the old stuff." Clearly, he expects me to relate to his beer/bead analogy.

I look at him, puzzled, thinking to myself....but hops and grain go stale...beads don't go bad or get stale!

"But....this a bead kit of the month club....with cool projects."

*Sigh* "Whatever makes you happy, Schmaby"

Is it me?

Local Girl Makes Good

While we are not going to watch the Olympics because of the Tibet issue with China, I do want to do a shout out to Bonney Lake's very own Olympian, Melanie Roach. We are both rooting for her and hope she comes home with the gold. Even any medal would be a huge honor.

This is Melanie, her hubby Dan who is a Republican state representative in our district, and their 3 kids, one of whom is autistic. They own Roach Gymnastics in Sumner, so I bet anything that she will be referred to as being from Sumner instead of Bonney Lake. I mean, we just got our own zip code 2 years ago and used to share Sumner's, so although our town is growing like gangbusters, most of the time we're just lumped in w/ Sumner.

So take a good look at her and tell me what sport in which you think she will be competing?

Nope. Not gymnastics. She is an award winning gymnast, but that's not her Olympic sport.........

It's not track and field either. Or any other sport in which you would think to find a 33 year old, 5'1", 117 lb entrepreneur and mother of three...........

She's going for the gold in weightlifting. Yes, that's right, that tiny little lady is a powerhouse of strength and is #1 in her class.

Needless to say, next time we need to move our ginormous and extremely heavy television, I'm going to give Melanie a call. lol

Good luck to Melanie and the Roach team. Go get 'em girl. Knock 'em dead!!!

photos courtesy of Google images

Oh how I loathe summer

Well it's another crappy-ass day here in Washington. It's sunny and hot. My car is hot. My office is hot. I get blinded by the sun when I go into the kitchen in the morning, screaming, "MY RETINAS!!!" as I get a faceful of blinding sun, and now all I can see is friggin spots. I am convinced that I have Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), in the wrong season. SAD is a real condition and it effects a lot of people in the Pac NW during the winter. You have to be a special kind of person to deal w/ the dark days, and I am one of those people. I am a proud "Mossback" and I'm only happy when it rains.

Each spring, I tell myself, OK, here comes summer. Don't resist it, don't fight it....embrace it. Enjoy those looooooong days, where the sun doesn't even set till well after 9:00 pm, plunging us into a perpetual twilight that doesn't truly go away till close to 11:00 pm. Get that deck furniture cleaned off and put out all of the yard decorations. Get Brian to put up the Skychairs under the deck so that you can read and doze on a warm day, swinging gently in the breeze. Buy some charcoal, grill more and eat outside on the deck. Take Pepper for walks every day after work. Get to the gym after work. Do a little yardwork. Yeah I hate to sweat and be hot, but everyone loves summer so much, so try to get in their skin and walk around in it, as Atticus Finch once told Scout. See what all the "summer love fest" is all about.

Then the first day we have that's over 75 degrees, which happened in May, I find myself hiding in my centrally air cooled home, lurking behind drawn blinds and drapes, putting up "blackout" fabric over our front door windows to keep the sun out. Sitting in the dark family room, lights out, watching TV. Wailing like a vampire at dawn if Brian so much as puts the family room blinds up even a crack, "SHUT THE SHADES!!! IT'S TOO BRIGHT!!! MY EYES!!!" He calls me "Cavey" b/c I like it dark. Even my boss hates coming into my office in the afternoon, after the wretched sun has finally moved off my east-facing windows, because it's really dark and the adjustment going from our bright reception area to my dark office is startling.

A few years ago when Robyn was still here, she was always cold. It could be 95 degrees outside and she's in her office bitching b/c the air con is set to 72 and she's freezing. I finally started coming to work in shorts and tshirts. I told her that I can't possibly do any more to cool myself off, other than come to work buck naked. I have a fan, but all that does is blow the hot air around. Steve finally had to bring in a portable air conditioner for my office to try to reach a compromise. Well, since she's been gone, I've got the air con set at 68.

At home, we don't let our house get above 68, ever. Not even in the winter. The a/c is set at 68 in summer, which we bring down to 63 at night. When we run the heat in winter, we set it for 66. I hate being hot. I take lukewarm showers, then go in my room and stand in front of the fan b/f dressing. Yes I've talked to several doctors, and all I've been told, for the past 15 years, is that I am in "perimenopause" which I find hard to believe that it could last 15+ years. I know it's not normal to be hot like this all the time, but I am. Even when I was a kid, if I got up off the couch to get something, my mom would get up and sit in my space b/c it was so warm.

But alas, this is the second summer in a row that the patio furniture has stood on the deck filthy w/ 2 winters' worth of dirt and debris and unused. This is the second summer of no Skychairs, no yard decorations, no walkies with the doggies, no working out after work, and no yardwork either. This is the second summer of no grilling (we did it once last year. Once).

OK, so in my defense, June is always an iffy month in Washington, weather-wise. This year it was very cold and rainy for weeks. I was a happy camper. Next thing we know, it's the 4th of July, and in my opinion, after that, it's just too late to bother w/ lawn decorations, Skychairs, etc. Now I have to deal with the long, hot slog till Labor Day. I have terrible allergies and find myself with gooped up eyes and sinuses, sneezin' and wheezin' my way through each day.

The bottom line is, I have always dreaded summer, even though I had them off while growing up. I dreaded having to buy a new bathing suit each spring, which meant HOURS of trying them on, one-piece only, no two-piece for this kid, and then being scrutinized by my mom, under very unflattering lights no less, of how bad I looked in the suit, unless of course it was one of the years that I was on a strict 1200 calorie a day diet. I was raised to be ashamed of and hate my body, and the thought of ANYONE seeing me in a swimsuit filled me with major panic. I would only swim in my Aunt's pool w/ my cousins, and occasionally go to a public beach at the ocean or lake. My bedroom was un-insulated and was stinkin' hot in the summer, even w/ fans blasting away. Humidity absolutely kills me. I pass out easily when I get too warm.

The only time I like it nice and sunny is when I am on vacation. I have nothing to fear, weatherwise, when I go to SF in August. Where Donnie lives is away from the "fog belt" and it should be quite pleasant. It never rains in California in the summer. And after nearly 6 summers in hot Marin County, where it stays in the 90's day after day, with a few days in the 100's just for good measure, I could not wait to get up here. And don't give me the "it's a dry heat" argument, b/c it's still HOT. We went to Las Vegas once in late May and it was 110 during the day, and 100 at night. Never again.

However, till then, you can find me hiding in my cave-like quarters, doing crafts and Facebooking, waiting to emerge like a bear coming out of hibernation when the days get cool and short.

Happy July 4th!

Upon moving here 9 years ago, imagine our surprise to find out that fireworks ("boomies", as we call them) are legal in Washington. Some towns, like Federal Way, do have complete bans on them, but here in East Pierce County, anything goes. Technically we are only supposed to buy and use the "safe and sane" boomies sold in town under the many TNT tents that spring up in parking lots all over the place. Fireworks found there consist of sparklers, small cakes, Saturn whistling missiles, smoke bombs, small Roman candles and my personal fave, parachutes.




However, if you really want some serious firepower, go to any Indian reservation and the heavy duty stuff is readily available, like mortars, large and heavy cakes, large Roman candles, firecrackers, and if you know the right way to ask at the right booth, M-80's and half sticks of dynamite. The State Patrol really doesn't do much to enforce the ban on these so-called "illegal" fireworks, because there is no way to enforce it. They cannot possibly stop every car traveling on the Puyallup Reservation on River Road, this being my fave stand b/c the name and illustration crack me up....

.... or on the Auburn-Enumclaw Highway going thru the Muckleshoot reservation. Before the Puyallups built their monstrous Emerald Queen Casino, it used to be a large vacant lot which transformed itself each June into "Firecracker Alley" with hundreds of stands.



Brian, being a boy at heart, got really caught up in having as many boomies as possible. We'd hear the sound of firecrackers and bottle rockets during the day and he'd spring up out of his chair, look out the window and go, "THEY'RE PUNKIN' ME OUT!", then dash outside and light off a string of 100 firecrackers. I would actually start saving money in January, a little out of every paycheck, to cover our boomie expense come July 2nd or 3rd when we'd go shopping.


Our most expensive year, and what was actually one of our final years buying fireworks, was 2002. This is the stuff we got on the Puyallup res:

The "Predator" package contains mortars. There's a launch tube inside that you put on the driveway w/ weights to keep it from tipping over, then you light the mortar ball, drop it in the tube and it shoots high in the air, with multi colored explosions and effects. Just think of a professional firework but just on a smaller scale. We'd usually light those off last, when it was finally pitch dark at 11:00 pm. Our driveway is such a fantastic launch spot, because of the openness, but we always kept garden hoses at the ready both in the front and back yard.



This is the stuff we bought at the TNT stand in town, after we left the res. As you can see, the "safe and sane" items are much smaller than what you get on the res. Still, many of our fave cakes came from the TNT stand, so it made a nice mix of legal and illegal. Or Ill-Eagle.

Here's a pic of the combined items. I should have taken a photo on July 5th of the huge mess in our driveway, especially teeny bits of paper that stayed around through the winter months. And lots of parachutes or bottle rockets on our roof too.

Let's just say that we don't need to leave our home and deal w/ crowds to watch the professional fireworks displays in Tacoma or Seattle, we can just sit in the front or back yard and watch our neighbors. You have no idea how loud it gets around here once night falls, especially now that kids have discovered how to make the "sparkler bomb" which rock the house every time one is detonated nearby. It sounds like a war zone. And living on the hill, the echo factor is unreal.

We tapered off on the fireworks after we got Pepper in 2003. We'd buy a few and use them, and as long as she was in the house, she was fine. Now that we have Sagie, we just don't buy them at all.

So I was on You Tube, trying to find the Schoolhouse Rock video from 1976, about our Independence Day. I found and watched it, but when I went to embed it in Blogger, it wasn't an option! You can post it to all these other things I've never heard of, like "Oorkut", "Fark" and "Digg", but NOT Blogger. I am really bummed. Any kid who grew up in the 70's watching Saturday morning cartoons could sing all of these dities by heart.

But here's the link, it's SO worth a watch and only 3 minutes long. The line "...and the pursuit of happiness" yields an extremely amusing, if somewhat sexist, scene.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvH7ySQi37E

Happy 4th of July Everyone!! Happy Birthday America!