Delta, Meet Queen of Spain, Queen of Spain…meet Delta

Thanks to Becky, we can now turn our anger over a mother being kicked off a flight for breastfeeding into action. Join me in causing them some pain:

Gerald Grinstein
Chief executive officer
(404) 715-2600, gerald.grinstein@ delta.com

Lee Macenczak
Executive vice president and chief of customer service
(404) 715-2600, lee.macenczak@ delta.com

Daiquiri Gleaves
Director, customer care
(404) 715-1402, daiquiri.gleaves@ delta.com

General info:
http://www.delta. com
DELTA, Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport
1030 Delta Blvd. Atlanta, GA 30354-1989

customer-care@ delta.com
(404) 715-2600
(800) 221-1212
How to get through to an operator: press “0” three times or say “agent.”

But Delta Hasn’t Met Me, Yet

Yet another mother has been banished for feeding her child. This time, on a Delta flight.

Guess who is flying across the country this week…on Delta??? And yes, my nearly 20-month old is still nursing. She hates blankets. Blankets are from the devil.

Stay tuned.

Poppin’ ‘Em Out for Jesus

You know there is something wrong with the Christian movement when they start breeding an Army.

If you need to bulk up your numbers to please your God, have a baseball team to be a good wife, or simply are submissive to the “head” of your household because you see yourself as a “domestic warriors in the battle against what they see as forty years of destruction wrought by women’s liberation: contraception, women’s careers, abortion, divorce, homosexuality and child abuse…” come sit next to me and let’s have a talk.

First deary, get yourself some books. Not the one with “Holy Bible” on the front, or the ones you see on the shelves at your local Christian book store…but some actual books. I’m sure my commentors can name a few to get you going. I’m going to have to say “The Poisonwood Bible” and maybe a little erotica for good measure.

Next, there is this nifty little thing out there called birth control. I realize you’re not supposed too…but you and I both know that your are batshit crazy from all those kids and all that breastfeeding and all that chaos. One pill. Once a day. Or hell, get a shot. Save yourself first, and we’ll deal with the head of your household next. Which leads me too..

…your asshole husband. I don’t care how much you love him. I don’t care how well he takes care of you and your litter. I don’t care how much you feel you need him. It’s time to stand up. Don’t go along with is plans unless YOU want too. Don’t just nod your head like a good little wife and take it up the ass. God also gave you a voice. If God wanted you mute, he would have left off the mouth. If he didn’t want you to think, you’d have less of a brain. But you and I both know that little voice inside your head is NOT Satan. It’s called reason. Yes. Reason. It’s there to ring little bells when you and I both know you shouldn’t be doing what that asshole tells you to do. That you should be standing up for yourself and making sure you get what you want. He can’t always get his way.

If all else fails, tell him you prayed on it and Jesus told you so. Then email me and I’ll find you a women’s shelter.

QofS

*hat tip to Violet for the mindblowing link, What the Fuck, indeed. **Shash  is talking about it too!

Important Polling for our Troubled Times

Gazongas or Bazoombas?

You decide.

Cars. Cars. Cars. Cars. Cars. Cars. Cars. Cars. Cars. Cars. Cars. Cars. Cars. Cars. Cars.

Count Waffles the Terrible has watched his new Cars dvd no less than 9 times since I brought it home Tuesday afternoon.

Lightening McQueen!

He shakes he get so excited during race scenes.

And while it’s a nice change from Elmo and the Little Mermaid, I’m starting to grow tired of Owen Wilson’s voice. And the constant zipping and zooming coming from my television.
Yes, I realize I have the power to say “no” the next time he asks to watch this new animated classic…but I told you already, he shakes he is so happy to see Lightening McQueen in his own home. Shakes.
A few notes on the movie:
The only hip-hop song in the film is not included in the soundtrack. This makes me sad. It would be a nice change from Rascal Flatts and Brad Paisley and the others I would never listen to if it weren’t for their crooning on this particular movie.
The lines “Thank the manufacturer!” and “For the Love of Chrysler!” are still cracking me up.
The VW Bug cars as actual bugs in the film is classic.
Guido’s scene in the last race still makes me clap.

So as I pop in the dvd for viewing #10, maybe I’ll play a drinking game. Like…everytime someone says “tires” I do a shot. OR, whenever an engine is revved I have to chug. I have a connection, a really famous connection, that could be considered a professional in the drinking game making up genre. Maybe I’ll ask him to help me with the rules.

Ballots and Hickeys

I took my 19-month old along for my “I meant to mail it, but ended up dropping it off at the polling place” absentee ballot vote. She got a sticker. She didn’t actually vote, but the nice lady gave her sticker. Which meant I heard “Oh! The baby voted!” at the:

polling place
music class
preschool
bank
toys r us
escrow company
burger joint
grocery store

The sticker was in her hair by the preschool stop. I nearly had to cut it out. Why is it that damn “I voted” sticker fell off my shirt in 10 minutes yet stayed in my daughter’s hair ALL DAY LONG???

So while my little girl spent the day laughing about the sticker in her hair, my husband spent the day trying to hide (in bizzaro 90 degree weather) the hickey I “accidentally” gave him. He nearly made it all day without a comment, and as he walked out the door heard “Aaron, is that a hickey on your neck???”

I know. I know. Tacky. Totally tacky. But sometimes things happen. Normally I would just giggle about it, but instead I rolled with laughter because my husband (and his sweet, sweet ass) had to give a tour of his place of employment and then have dinner with members of a certain state’s film commission. With a hickey on his neck. From his wife’s hot, hot lovin’.

Wanna know what kind of man I married? His response to those who noticed:

10 years and a hickey! That’s good, right??!!

VOTE

The official Queen of Spain logo

Thanks

QofS

Hell (the place I’m going) YES!

“Despite a full century of scientific insights attesting to the antiquity of life and the greater antiquity of the Earth, more than half the American population believes that the entire cosmos was created 6,000 years ago. This is, incidentally, about a thousand years after the Sumerians invented glue. Those with the power to elect presidents and congressmen and many who themselves get elected believe that dinosaurs lived two by two upon Noah’s Ark, that light from distant galaxies was created en route to the Earth and that the first members of our species were fashioned out of dirt and divine breath, in a garden with a talking snake, by the hand of an invisible God. This is embarrassing.” –Sam Harris, Newsweek

Can I get an “Amen” for Sam??

I swear I’m not trying to offend anyone here. I swear to God –snort– it’s that I just don’t get it. I really, for the life of me, do not get it. I want to get it. I’d like to be let in on the secret. But apparently I’m not worthy. Or I’m not trying hard enough. Or I really, really, really am not trying hard enough.

That, in a nutshell, is why I do not belong or believe in any sort of organized religion. And as we gear up for tomorrow’s election, everything seems to be boiling down to the believers and the nonbelievers. The chosen and the damned. Sure, sure…there is some gray in the middle there somewhere, but mostly it’s the followers and the free thinkers. The Republicans and the Democrats. Baby killers against the stem cell preservers.

I’d like to call a truce, but I feel my own life is at stake. My children’s lives. My thoughts, my ideas, my ability to reason.

My son and I spent part of Sunday at a garden center. It was late in the afternoon and there were many customers. Many of them were dressed as if they had just left church, and like every day in our heathen lives, we were in sweats. Dirty, mismatched, Sunday on-the-couch-praying-to-the-NFL-and-not-the-Lord-Your-God sweats.

It wasn’t long before a well meaning (stupid) woman looking at the same glass case of Christmas figurines as my son and I said “oh, someone must have gone to church early today!” My little guy didn’t even hear her, as he was too busy watching red and white striped elves skate magically on a fake glass rink, but I heard her. I heard her and was pissed she just assumed we were Christian. Not that there is anything wrong with that. The Christian part, I mean.

Ok, I’m lying. There is something wrong with it. Something really, really wrong. It’s so wrong and twisted that it has politicians showing off their faithfulness and actually trying sway me by promoting their Christianity. Yeah, I’m getting mailings with that little fish on it. And important issue information on my candidate like where he stands on global warming and which local church he attends.

Oh! Wait! John Doe goes to Christ Loves Everyone But Gays and Women Holy Mother of Bleeding Hearts! Well, fuck his voting record and bending over for lobbiest! He’s one of us! We’re voting for him!

I’m not impressed. You’re going to have to do more than tell me where you attend services to get my vote. I know, I’m such a bitch. Just call me informed.

Maybe I’m batty here, but it seems this country has gone a little Christian crazy. It’s so cool to be into the Jesus these days. I know kids who have actually asked their parents to take them to church. On behalf of all the former kids of the world, I would just like to say “WHAT THE FUCK??”

In my day, we found ways to skip mass and screw in the parking lot. In my day, it wasn’t cool or uncool to be into God. It just was. You didn’t promote your faith like some new pair of shoes. And you certainly didn’t bust it out to win over voters. Or just assume the entire US population was right there with you, dressed in your Sunday best at a Garden Center at 2pm. Because THAT is how trendy it is now, everyone who is anyone has, of course, gone to church on Sunday.

The inmates are running the asylum. Get your asses out to vote tomorrow. Because there is no way in hell I’m missing Sunday football or lazy days in my garden with my son. Not for Jesus, Buddha, Allah, or anyone else. The last time I checked there was still that whole free religion thing going on in the good old US of A. The one that lets you be who you are. Worship who you want. Worship no one if you want.

Go vote. Now. Before they amend that one too.

*Queen’s note: I would just like to say how proud I am of myself for not using this post to say “meth” “hyprocrite” or “up the ass.” Crossposted at the Huffington Post