Help Me, Obi-Wan Kenobi you`re my only hope!

Both of my children have been through Health class in school where they give the students a real looking baby doll to take care of for two nights. The doll has a microchip inside it that records everything from whether you shook the baby to how long it cried before you picked it up or changed its diaper. It is used to show teenagers how hard it is to care for a baby, therefore hopefully stopping them from engaging in pre-marital sex or at least prompting them to be sure to use birth control if they do have sex.

Now as a former teenage mother, I think this is a a great program and I am sure in some cases probably works. But I think for a full 100% guarentee that teenagers will not have sex, giving them babies to take care of isnt the answer you need to give them teenagers.

Baby dolls are cute, even crying ones. And two days with a baby doll isnt enough time for the cuteness factor to wear off. My daughter had fun taking care of her little doll and although she made smart decisions about sex in her teen years, I am sure it was not because of the doll. In contrast there is nothing cute about teenagers, nothing. Give these kids in school a teenager or even better two of them to take care of for one week, at by the end of that week I would be willing to bet good money that not one of those kids will ever have sex again for the rest of their lives.

Babies coo and giggle, teenagers whine and complain. Babies need food and comfort from you, teenagers think they need nothing from you and that you have no idea what your talking about regarding anything in the world, universe and beyond. Babies play with you and laugh, teenagers play you and laugh as they are doing it. Babies sleep most of the day and give you time to yourself, teenagers could not care less if you ever have a moment alone again, you’re not their concern, they are their concern. The only time you come into play is when they want something from you. Money, a ride, more money, space, a TV in their room, money, fourteen different video game systems, even though they all play almost all the same games, a computer, ipod, cell phone, more money, more rides, take me here, take me there, let this friend come over, let that friend come over, feed me, feed my friends, feed the entire football team!

Teenagers are selfish by nature, babies are open and loving by nature. How something so terrifyingly obnoxious can come from somethiing so delicate and cute I will never know, but it is definitely one of the universes best jokes. Give these teenagers their own teenagers to take care of and watch how fast they decide sex isnt worth it. Can you imagine their faces when their little baby teenager wants the ATM card, needs the car to go to a party, or needs $100 and three lasagnas for his football teams end of season party which he forgot to tell you about until three hours before he needed them? How about when they try to use the phone but can’t because their precious little bundle is not only talking on the landline but using his/her cell phone to text another friend. How about when they want to go out with some friends, but can’t because they need to drive their daughter to Girl Scouts in one part of town and their son to theatre class in another at exactly the same time? Can you just imagine the look on their faces when they see the food bill for the month, especially if they have a boy? Believe me, they wouldn’t last two days before they took these cute, cuddly teenagers and knifed them in the back with the first sharp object they can find.

So, if you are a teacher, give it a try, I bet you will find your results will be very similar to what I have predicted here, and if you need some teenagers to play the babies give me a call I have two of them that I can rent out very, very cheap.

So I am going through Irish withdrawal. What’s that you ask? Well let me explain. First of all, the most obvious point, I am Irish. Being Irish means many things, including drinking heavily, experiencing hangovers that could rival that of an atomic bomb going off in your head, a knack for starting fist fights and lets be honest here, almost always for no reason what so ever, and last but not least, having a quick and sometimes nasty temper.

I have all of the above traits, however with my second husband now gone I have noticed a peculiar thing. I haven’t had my “Irish up” in quite sometime, actually I cant even remember the last time I yelled at someone it has been that long. I am too calm, too at peace lately, it’s actually bordering on frightening. I don’t think I have ever been on such an even keel in my life.

I used to hate people that said, their head hits the pillow and whammo they are out like a light. I have had insomnia since I was 11 years old, never in my life has my head hit anything and whammo been out like a light. Except of course when I was drunk, but we’re not counting that for the purposes of this story.

Now, literally my head hits the pillow and I am out like a light, and I don’t wake up until my alarm goes off. It is the best feeling in the world. So, like I said above, I am experiencing Irish withdrawal. Nothing seems to phase me, I don’t yell, and have nothing to get agitated about, which believe me is saying a lot since I have two teenagers living with me.

Here’s the weirdest part; I think I like it. I find myself singing in the car on the way home with a smile on my face. I find myself humming and smiling for no apparent reason, it’s a little scary. My friends think I must be smoking a little too much of the happy weed, but I keep telling them, “No, I am high on the peace”, and it’s a great high.

Of course I still have my dark moments that have made me the sullen, cynical person my friends have grown to love, but lately that only seems to come out of me when discussing politics, religion or my favorite subject in the world men and marriage. Otherwise I have apparently turned into my father, who has been notoriously known for years in my family as the most irritatingly calm person in the world. Just to give you an example; when I was 16 I found myself pregnant and to make a long story short, I didn’t tell my parents. I hid the whole pregnancy until the morning I was in labor and literally about an hour away from giving birth right there in my parent’s living room (I will have to tell you that story at another time, its enjoyable I assure you, of course it wasn’t enjoyable at the time for me…and for my parents for that matter).

Anyway, when I called my mother into the bathroom to tell her I knew why I wasn’t feeling well, I told her I was pregnant and in labor. She ran to get my father in hysterics. As my father followed my mom back to the bathroom he looked at me sitting there with my fists clenched around the towel rack in immense pain as yet another contraction hit and said, “ Ok get dressed and we will get in the car and go to the hospital”. I think my mother was having heart palpitations that to this day she hasn’t gotten over, and my father looked like he was ordering Tea and biscuits at some British hotel. As everything was transpiring that morning, in the chaos that was my daughter’s birth, my father called my sister at her job to let her know what was going on.

To this day my sister tells people the story of being at the store she worked at when her manager came over to her to tell her that her father was on the phone. She panicked immediately because my father only uses a phone for emergencies and even then he seems afraid of it, like Freddy Krueger’s tongue will come out of it and lick him. He is not a phone call kind of guy. So panicked and afraid my sister got on the phone to hear the following from my father, “ Hi honey, its dad. Just wanted to let you know that your sister is having a baby and they are putting her in the ambulance now. If you can get out of the store, meet us there, Bye”. He literally hung up the phone and that was it. My sister sat stunned on the other end of the phone, as co-workers that saw her face rushed to bring her a chair and some water before she fainted dead away. That is my father.

Sometimes I think you could murder someone in front of him, and he would say something like, “ Ok, well you murdered someone, that really isn’t a nice thing to do, but what’s done is done.” I have always been told over the years that I have my mother’s temper, which she inherited from my grandfather. But lately, post second marriage I seem to be slipping a little more closely into my father’s scarily calm and even keeled world. So for the moment I will enjoy it while it lasts, I think I’ve earned it after the hell of the last five years of my life. But, somehow I have the feeling it wont last forever, that Irish blood will begin to boil up sooner or later, and to whoever is the unlucky recipient of that moment, let me take a moment now to apologize in advance.

No, it is not a word, I made it up, but its cute and I like it, and it fits the point of my blog today, so live with it. My girlfriend is afraid of the Internet. Now I promised her I wouldn’t use her real name here, (you know the whole change the name to protect the innocent or in this case the guilty), and when I asked her what name she wanted to go by she couldn’t decide. So I teased her and explained how there are websites that allow you to put your name in and they come back with what your Porn name would be, or your Bond girl name etc. etc. So, I put her name in and she will now forever be known as (at least in my blogs anyway), as Kinky Hymen, and no I did not make that up, that is what the Porn Star Name Generator gave her.

I digressed. Kinky is afraid of the Internet, almost a phobia really. When I asked her why she wouldn’t get a facebook and join the rest of the world on social media networking sites she said the following: “I don’t give a rats ass that my sisters, cousins best friend had a smelly fart; I’m not that interested. Why would I want to hear about someone else’s life on a daily basis, I don’t even want to know about my life on a daily basis.”

Classy I know, hence the reason her name is Kinky. After taking a few minutes to point out to her that her quote sounded very close to a scene in Spaceballs which I then had to recite for her, we moved on to the Internet in general. She went on to tell me that when she had purchased her first computer she went into a chat room, which she insisted after I interrupted her to ask, was not a sex type chat room, but since her name is Kinky I somehow doubt that. After a few minutes of being in the so-called non-sex related chat room, someone instant messaged her. It totally freaked her out. She said it felt like some stranger was in her living room with her. I told her she must have been smoking something funny again like the time she watched the Fox TV special about how the whole moon landing was a hoax and she was so totally enraptured with the idea and convinced that NASA was a bunch of bullshit artists that for months afterwards she could not be convinced otherwise.

She of course denied this accusation about as convincingly as she did when she tried to deny she was high for the moon landing show. I teased her about this relentlessly as any good friend would, and am now immortalizing her paranoid fear of the Internet …on the Internet. I love irony. I tried to explain that although you may be talking to someone in London, they aren’t actually in your room watching you from a peephole in your computer, but she was sticking to her guns. Her paranoia overflowed to the point where I was wondering if she thought that when she signed on to the internet, strange web beings would suddenly come to her door to take her away to their home planet or something, or perhaps like the pillow tag police they come and hunt you down for various internet offences. Did you ever notice I talk about the pillow tag police a lot, I think I need to examine my obsession with pillows.

So anyway, I am slowly but surely introducing her to the wonderful world of the Internet and all its fabulous and addictive uses. I have convinced her to get a facebook and twitter for her business, but she still wont get one for herself personally. I think she is afraid that once her name gets out there into the wonderful World Wide Web, the Internet demons that lurk in your computer will spread evil rumors about her and defame the good name of Kinky Hymen. I, of course being the great friend that I am told her I could take care of that for them, by writing this blog.

So, day-by-day I am easing her into the Internet. She did get a kick out of the immensely useful Porn Name Generator site, and she did enjoy YouTube and the ever useful and endlessly disgusting two girls one cup. But, I have a feeling I will never be able to fully bring her over to the darkside of Internet addiction. No problem though, at least that way she wont be able to read all the stories I will write about her on this site. Maybe next time I will wax poetic about the time we went to Salem together, that was quite an adventure. In the meantime, Help her Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re her only hope.

P.S. In case you were wondering I put my name into the Porn Name Generator as well. Now, since I have several names due to the fact that I have been married twice, have my maiden name and have used several variations of my first and middle name throughout the years, I was given several choices. I have my favorite, but lets see which one you like.

Lexi Diggler

Lana Cream

Kara Jizz

Sassy Spankadocious

So I realized in my first blog, that I never really got to the point, which was to explain a little about the blog and of course, its title. But, somehow I went off on a tangent (believe me, if you know me it wasn’t a surprise) and forgot all about what I intended to write. So let’s try this again. The name of my blog should be easy for most to recognize, and if you don’t then you have been living in a log cabin in the woods for too long, and probably are not reading this anyway, because I doubt they have the Internet in log cabins. Although, oddly enough while I was going through a catalog of magazine choices recently, to order some subscriptions through my friends son’s school, my son and I got quite a laugh at some of the magazines being offered, one of them being Log Cabin Magazine.

For the life of me and my son, we could not figure out who reads this magazine, and how on earth they have enough readership numbers to keep publishing, but I guess as we all learn, there are all kinds of people out there, and I guess a lot of Log Cabin owners..who knew? So on the off chance that you are a relative of Abe Lincoln and living in a Log Cabin and reading this, welcome.

Anyway, back to my point, I named my blog Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi you’re my only hope, because sometimes I think he just may be. Between my own life experiences and those of the people I know and the crazy world we live in, which to me seems to get crazier by the day, I am sometimes lost for an answer or an explanation about the things that go on in our lives on a daily basis. Of course the fact that I am a big Star wars fan (yeah, yeah, call me a geek, mock me, giggle, whatever), and an atheist (although when people ask my religion, I usually say Jedi), I decided looking to Obi-Wan Kenobi for guidance couldn’t hurt.

So, every time I see or hear something that makes me wonder how we ever evolved from the apes, for instance Octomom and her one woman baby factory, or disgruntled customers at McDonald`s calling 911 because they cannot get their McNugget fix, I tend to find myself saying, “Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi you’re my only hope!”

So where to begin? How does one start a blog, is it like writing a novel? Once upon a time and so forth, although now a days who starts novels with once upon a time? But either way, where does one begin when they plan on writing about their life for the world to read?

I think, I shall begin with a warning, kind of like when you buy a DVD and they post that threatening announcement that you can be arrested if you illegally copy said DVD. Does anyone ever actually get convicted of that offense I wonder, or is it kind of like the whole tag on the pillow thing, it scares the hell out of some people, but really there is no real threat behind it? Although I do know several people in their thirties who are still afraid to rip the tags off of their pillows, as if they think there is some secret squad out there that monitors pillow tags and will come into your house, breaking down your door to terrorize your family if you rip one of those off. Kind of like a Men in Black squad for rogue pillow offenders. But I digressed.

Actually, that’s a great place to start. I tend to digress when I am writing, bouncing from one thought to another as if I am having a conversation with you, so consider yourself warned. Second place, this is a blog about my life, the life of those around me, observations of life, rants, raves, bitching, moaning, you know the usual. So please, if for some reason you tend to be easily offended, or don’t like off color humor slipping in to your reading from time to time, then please, stop reading before you feel the need to rip me one in the comments section.

I am a proponent of free speech of all kinds, whether I agree with what is being said or not, and because of that I believe instead of asking or demanding your government get involved and censor or rate things, YOU, as an individual human with what I assume is a brain like everyone else’s, should monitor what you do or do not watch. Don’t like Howard Stern? Here’s a unique idea…are you ready….its a radical idea …don’t listen to him! Wow, easy huh? Bet you never thought of that on your own before. Sorry in that warning above, I guess I should have mentioned I can tend to be sarcastic and a bit nasty towards human stupidity (mine included), consider this an amendment to the above warning.

Anyway, digressing again this is just my welcome blog. I hope to entertain you all with my somewhat strange, hopefully humorous, and always slightly a bit off from center stories. You can revel in the twisted hell that is my life and if it brightens your day to realize someone else is more fucked up than you, and someone else’s life is closer to the fifth ring of hell than yours, then I was glad I could help, and my job is done.