I watched Jon & Kate Plus 8 last night. It was not what I expected.

From the buzz around the internet, the tabloid mess of (un)truths, I expected to see Kate turn green, rippled with muscles and out break people in two.

Instead I saw a deeply confused and hurt woman crying out for someone who appears to no longer be available to her. I saw her needing emotional support, love and companionship.

I saw myself.

The chatter I’ve heard and the stories I’ve read callously call Kate an attention hungry, angry bitch that expects the world to revolve around her. She’s a neglectful parent and evil wife, a cold-hearted employer and a fame whore.

I see a confused, overwhelmed woman who is watching her marriage slip away while being filmed for the world to see. I see a scared, angry and very worried lady who is unsure of everything around her.

People have been talking about how Kate played up the fact that she has to do everything and she has to take all the kids by herself to get the party decorations while Jon “decided he needed a weekend off”- but tell me this: WHO DOESN’T DO THAT?! You can’t sit there and tell me that you have never played up the fact that you’ve had to do ALL the grocery shopping, the cleaning, the laundry, the parenting while your significant other goes out golfing / shopping / girl’s weekend / boy’s weekend – whatever. So Kate’s little “woe is me” moment was caught on tape? That gives us the right to call her a bitch; needy; demanding; etc.?

I do it. ALL THE TIME. I complain that I have to get the kids ready in the morning, I have to do pick up and drop off at daycare, I have to remember to take something out for dinner, I have to make sure the bills are paid, I have to do the laundry…WE ALL DO.

Marriage is tough. I’ve said that before. Things begin to unravel and by the time you realize it, they can be so far gone that it’s hard to work on even in a regular situation – like with TWO children – nevermind EIGHT.

There’s talk about the fact that Kate’s never home because she’s out “whoring” her new book instead of being home with the children. A neglectful mom who is more concerned with her fame and fortune than her children? I doubt it. Maybe a mom that has a chance to realize her dream of writing a book while HER HUSBAND stays home with the kids after he quit his job to be home. Had she been home and NOT working while Jon busted his ass everyday the tables would surely have been turned to call her a mooch – or lazy – because she didn’t have a job of her own.

I can tell you, if I had the option to write a book, have a television show and a new house for my eight children – children who likely eat about a grand worth of food a week, grow like weeds and will eventually be heading off to a post-secondary school requiring THOUSANDS MILLIONS of dollars in tuition – I’d do it in a heartbeat. Compared to working a dead-end job with limited chance for advancement or a salary to afford those eight kids even the bare minimum, it’s a pretty cushy job that one would be pretty silly to turn down.

Those of us with personal blogs, sharing stories of our family and have ads on our site are no different – though the scale is much less, it’s the same. So as we sit at the other end of our computers writing about Jon and Kate being fame whores for sharing every little detail about their family and their marriage – WHAT DOES THAT MAKE US?

Overall, I was deeply saddened by the show; because not only is this family falling apart before our very eyes while we critique their every move, I saw myself and my marriage play out on that television screen.

The way Jon and Kate worked around each other, ignoring each other as they passed? That’s my life.

As they conversed for the sake of the children – emotionless, heartless conversation solely for the purpose of the kids – THAT IS MY LIFE.

The blaming each other because of the unevenly distributed workload – MY LIFE.

It was truly an eye opener to see. Sad, heartbreaking and scary, but an eye opener nonetheless.

Yup. You’ve read that correctly. I am in love with a couple of gay men.

I believe I’ve always had a soft spot for homosexual men. I’m not quite sure why, but Colin McAllister and Justin Ryan are my two most favourite gays. Ask Karen Sugarpants, I talk about these two constantly.

I can’t tell you why or how this affinity for gay men came about, but as far as I can remember, I’ve had a feeling of comfort with them – which is even more strange because I don’t have any openly gay men close to me (Well, accept if you count my neighbours – but they are only close in proximity.).

It gets weirder.

I even have a sexual attraction to these two. I KNOW! Them and all their flamboyant gay-ness make me hot. I can’t even explain it, nor do I really care for an explanation, I just revel in the fact that they are gorgeous, funny and passionate. So neither of them have an interest in women. Small detail.

About six years ago I asked Mike to go with me to the gay pride parade to which he begrudgingly obliged.  Mike is not a homophobic person, but he is not comfortable like I am; he was not looking forward to this ‘adventure’. Even though he’d never admit it, I believe he was just a little curious about how the whole thing would go down; the whole time, he stood quietly at my side, even holding my hand tightly – I assume to ward off those prowling gays because they’re like vampires, yanno *rolleyes* – and even kept his usual derogatory comments to himself.

Nothing really significant happened that year and I was able to convince him to go with my the following year.

This time? This time was a little different.

As the parade passed us by, we stood on the sidelines, close to the route.

I kinda peaked out of the corner of my eye and noticed that he was smiling and seemed to actually be enjoying himself. Who knew this macho man’s man would enjoy a highly flamboyant event such as the Pride Parade? But! That all came to a crashing halt when a man, dressed as a fairy – covered in glitter, in a speedo and wearing wings – approached Mike with a watering can labeled ‘fairy dust’.

I think you can guess what happened next….

The guy sprinkled his dust atop Mike’s head.

As Mike’s face changed rapidly from enjoying his time to utterly pissed off and I began worrying what the outcome was going to be. The headlines flashed through my mind: A gay basher beating up a homosexual in the midst of the Pride Parade.

Not good.

I held my breath as the fairy passed.

I watched Mike’s expression soften a little as I smiled at him.

I think he likes you! Maybe he thought you were hot and could change you so that you could be boyfriends. I teased.

Mike glared at me, which only made me laugh more.

Fuck. you. He spat out. We’re NEVER coming here AGAIN.

I was almost in tears I was laughing so hard.

Needless to say that was our last Pride Parade.

He doesn’t speak of The Incident, but I believe it still haunts him because every time he sees Colin and Justin come on the television his eyes glaze over and he leaves the room.

{ images from HGTV.ca }

My Dearest Matthew;

I’m not really sure how to start this, so I’ll just come out and say it.

Things between us have changed, our lives are moving in different directions. It’s been happening for some time now, I just wasn’t willing or ready to face it. I wanted to believe that you were still very much the man for me as you’ve been for so many years. I thought I was able to accept your relationship with her.

I didn’t think she would change things. I thought it was a relationship similar to those of the past but I’d be naive to believe that was still a possibility. I can’t be the other woman.

Not anymore.

Especially not when there’s a child involved.

I’ve moved on Matthew and it’s time you did too.

I know this may come as a shock, but over time you will see that this is truly what’s right. I want nothing but the best for you and I know in my heart that I can’t give you that.

It’s not you, it’s me. I just want more. I want what we used to have, and I’ve been kidding myself into believing that was still a possibility.

I will always have a special place for you in my heart.

I’m sorry Matthew, but this is goodbye.

Always and Forever,

Samantha

SO YUM! But I’m so over it (I think.)

Dogfighting is a sadistic “contest” in which two dogs—specifically bred, conditioned, and trained to fight—are placed in an enclosed “ring” to fight each other for human entertainment as well as gambling. Fights can range anywhere from an hour in length to often lasting more than two hours and usually end when one of the dogs will not or cannot continue – or die.

The “losing” dog who survives the match will usually suffer severe consequences at the hand of the owner. Consequences for losing can include: being beaten with bats, chains, have battery acid thrown on their flesh and open wounds as well as being shot, hanged and drowned.

Pit bulls are the dog of choice when it comes to dogfights due to their tenacious loyalty to humans; they will fight to the death and suffer gravely in order to satisfy their human.

Thanks to Michael Vick’s notoriety, the underground world of dogfighting has enlightened many that would otherwise have had no idea what fate these animals have been suffering at the hands of these unconscionable people.

Thank you Michael Vick.

God, that pains me to write. Thank you to such a vile and inexcusable monster.

But without his celebrity, this story would have been brushed under the rug as so many others have and it’s time for people to know. To be educated about the pit bull breed and to stop living in fear of their portrayal in the media.

Saving Michael Vick’s Dogs is a fantastic article written by Brigid Schulte for the Washington Post. A definite must read that provides insight into the world of dogfighting and the pit bull breed.

Typically when a dogfighting ring is busted, the dogs are executed without question, but these 50 pit bulls resuced from Vick’s property have been given a fighting chance – at life. Many of the dogs have undergone extensive rehabilitation and training due to mostly to fear, anxiety and lack of socialization. A number of the dogs were terrified to move let alone be touched by a human hand, where few showed aggressive tendencies towards humans.

A widespread misconception about pit bulls is that they are aggressive to humans because they are aggressive to dogs. Just like any other breed of dog, a pill bull responsibly owned, raised, as well as socialized, is no more likely to be human aggressive then any other dog.

Classic fighting pit bulls, part bulldog and part terrier, were bred to be friendly to people and aggressive with other dogs. Their ability to withstand great pain and keep fighting is a quality prized as “gameness.”

But with an explosion in urban street fighting, some pit bulls are being trained to go after animals and people.

Myths of pit bulls being unpredictable, vicious and dangerous have long fueled the fear of this breed. Because of their rough appearance, pit bulls – as well as rottweilers, dobermans, etc. – have been targeted by such groups as gangs, dogfighters, and thugs to be used as an accessory to their menacing appearance which in turn has sensationalized their “bad dog” image. These breeds are no more likely to be harmful then a shitzu, golder retriever, or cocker spaniel provided they are raised in a loving environment, by a responsible person. Many instances of dog attacks or bites are traced back to improper care, lack of socialization and supervision.

Vick’s dogs have been a few of the lucky ones rescued from fighting. These dogs have been given a second lease on life, a chance to love and be loved. About half the dogs have been introduced into loving, caring and experienced foster homes while those whom shown little tolerance to other dogs are living out their days at Best Friends Animal Society’s 3,700-acre sanctuary in Kanab, Utah called Dogtown. One special dog – Leo – now visits cancer patients as a therapy dog!

Tim Racer, one of the founders of Bay Area Doglovers Responsible About Pit bulls (BAD RAP), has said:

Yes, there are pit bulls who have fought, attacked and mauled other animals and people. But so have other breeds. And incidents almost always have been traced to negligent or abusive owners…

… it is not surprising that many of the dogs get along so well with other dogs. Just as the urge to fight is in their blood, so, too, is the need to get along. “You have 150 years of man trying to produce an aggressive dog. But you have tens of thousands of years of Mother Nature preceding that,” he said. “Dogs are pack animals. They survived because of their pack. . . . It’s hard-wired into their genes that they do no harm to each other.”

Briggs & Carter

The only way we can save these animals from the prejudice and hate is to get educated. Given the proper treatment, these dogs are unique and wonderful with tons of love to give.

Great sites to debunk myths and learn more about pit bulls:

BAD RAP (Bay Area Doglovers Responsible About Pitbulls)

Working Pitbull

Advocates for the Underdog

Just google Michael Vick and pitbulls and you’ll see the amazing stories of the dogs’ survival.

A couple of those stories:

Vick’s Pitbulls Up For Adoption

Beaten-down dog from Vick Case Has It’s Day

Leo at work:

Sweet Pea:

Sick again. Still, actually. Wednesday I came down with something, unable to even keep water down, I’ve slept through 28 of the past 48 hours. Thank God for daycare and Mike otherwise I think Carter would have been been locked in a closet. I’ve been stricken with the sick bug practically this entire pregnancy. I don’t know if it’s just that my immune system is compromised or I’m just a gluten for punishment. I’m really over it though. I don’t wanna be sick anymore. *pout*

Since Tuesday evening I’ve also been in a little more of a funk after hearing of the passing of Heath Ledger. I can’t even explain why I’ve been so profoundly impacted by this loss. Sure, I was a fan of his movies, I thought he was cute, but there was nothing really beyond that. Yet, I find myself sobbing at every photo I see. Deliriously upset by the fact that Matilda has been left without a father and the entertainment world has lost a shining star.

I have no connection or affiliation, yet I seem to be overwhelmingly depressed by this loss. It’s difficult to describe without sounding like a complete psychopathic stalker, so I’ll just blame it on the hormones.

I think death in Young Hollywood affects me so greatly since I’m completely and utterly hormonal in the same age category as many of these stars. Britney and her meltdown, Lindsay Lohan and rehab, Brad Renfro’s overdose, and Heath. They have a different lifestyle, financial freedom and new found independence to accompany that wealth, unlike many of us their age, yet, for some reason it’s difficult not to find oneself comparing one to them. Once you take away the wealth and fame; they are the same. People trying to make a living and provide for themselves and loved ones.

The thought of Carter losing his father so tragically, so young, takes my breath away. I can’t even fathom the idea of him not have a memory of his father, or having to explain where daddy went and why he’s not coming back. In that sense, Heath’s passing has made it so much more emotional. There is a child involved. A child so dearly loved and cherished by a man that she, more then likely, will not remember; aside from what people tell her of him. My heart breaks for that young girl and her mother. Not to mention the rest of his family who never had the chance to say goodbye.

I just hope he went peacefully.

Ever have one of those days where nothing seems to go your way? You just can’t please anyone and feel as though everyone is on the defensive? Ever just feel like hiding under your blankets in hopes that everyone would just disappear? Feel like whenever you open your mouth someone gets upset because your tone is misunderstood for mad rather then sad, lonely or moody.

It’s one of those days for me.

I feel sad because I unintentionally hurt a friend with my moody attitude, not knowing that she, herself, was having a crap day. Now I feel guilty because I hurt a friend.

I want my bed.

I’m headed down Shit Creek and I can’t seem to find my paddle.

I finally announced to my coworkers that I am expecting. It feels like a weight has been lifted, even though I still don’t understand why sharing that news with fellow employees is so hard.

I had a prenatal appointment yesterday, everything’s great. Except my iron is low (like always) which is probably what’s increasing my fatigue, so now I have MORE pills to take. I’m like a friggin’ walking pharmacy these days. I’m going to need a weekly pill reminder soon. Like my grandparents, who spend their Sunday evening preparing their pill reminders for the week ahead.

Good times.

And now Mike just called to say that he has to stay out of town this evening because the weather is so bad where he is.

Craptacular crap just keeps getting better.

I’m such a downer, I applaud you for making it this far.

For those that made it this far, this is for you:

I wanted to share the link with you, but I can’t because it’s made to watch only once and then it self destructs. Seriously. If you’re a Criss Angel fan (like me and her) then you’ll probably enjoy this – even if it’s just another opportunity to stare at him.

Go to Freak Your Mind and enter the information requested… just make it about you instead of a friend (its more fun that way). Then, pick the copy the link and put it into your browser.

I’ve done it about 5 times so I can hear him say my name.

My latest confessed crush has turned into an obsession.

Yes, Criss Angel ladies and gentlemen.

And, with my past confession post, comments from the older crowd (please, you know I don’t mean it!) seemed a little offended when I was SHOCKED! that Criss was in fact, turning 40 this year.

People, I said he was doable. That’s a GOOD thing. 40 is the new 30, it’s great to be 40, especially when you’re HAWT like Criss. But! when he is 14 years my senior it *could* turn heads, bring a lot of cradle robber comments to the forefront.

Tis all I meant my dear over the hill friends. Perhaps it is YOU that has issues with being 40, not me. *tee hee*

I’m just sayin’.

[Please direct your hate comments and emails to: getagripATgmailDOTcom. P.S. That's not a real address that I own, so you'll be sending your hate to someone unfortunate soul.]

So yeah, Criss…

*sigh* YUM!
Where was I? Oh, yes.

As I may have mentioned before, we are taking a vacation over the Christmas holidays – sans child that is not in my tummy – to Las Vegas where we will be over New Years Eve. I am so stinkin’ excited! I’ve officially begun to strategically plan my stalking of said illusionist at the Luxor hotel.

I have an idea of where he’s most likely to be found, where he lives (which is in the penthouse of the Luxor) and how I could cop a feel dry hump is leg get a hug shake his hand.

[If he ever ventures upon this while on the internet in the next 18 to 20 days, I may have to rethink my plan as there may be increased security around him, let's hope not.]

Mike’s been on this kick lately (since our sex life has dried up to about once every 2 months since I’ve been sick) where he jokes about getting a Mistress. I said I was alright with it as long as I could have a boyfriend or even a one night stand.

I mentioned that he was one of the most jealous guys I’ve ever met and it would drive him bat shit crazy if I happened to sit down and chat with a very hot man while we were in Vegas.

Mike looked at me and said: Sam, Criss is not going to sit and shoot the shit with you. You’re probably not even going to see him there. Get over it.

He knows me so well.

I played it up like I wasn’t talking about Criss at all.

But I so was.

A girl can dream, can’t she?

Did I mention I haven’t bought One. Single. Christmas gift yet?

Yeah, starting to freak out a little.

But! I have lights on my house and I have a tree and the Christmas music station tuned in the car. I’m getting there.

By the time I’m actually there, Christmas may be well over and I’ll be on a plane heading to see my Angel.

You think I could get him drunk enough to marry me in a drive thru wedding chapel?

Hmmm…. off to do more planning…..

I am happier then a pig in shit that NaBloPoMo is on it’s last leg day. Yeah, I said it. Whatcha gonna do about it?

Sure, it’s a little challenging and even a little tedious at times – like weekends – but it’s suppose to be. It’s purpose is to encourage us bloggers to think outside or little boxes and write religiously about anything and everything that comes to mind; a chance to share our poetic abilities, rants and raves as well as some well thought out and deep seeded emotions that we’ve been dying to express. November is that time of year where we throw out hats into the wind and blog like the dickens.

I, for one, am never haphazardly throwing my hat into that wind ever again. Before you call me a wimp and tell me that I am a party pooper, hear me out.

NaBloPoMo is to blogging like Dennis Rodman is to celebrity (So it’s not the best analogy… work with me here.): a huge freak that causes nothing but blank looks and the inability to think clearly.

Dude’s wearing a ladies bikini top

NaBloPoMo clutters the mind of an otherwise intelligent blogger (I’m not talking about me) and encourages them to mass produce shitty posts with no merit or reason. The content this past month was – dare I say it – lacking throughout most of Teh Internetz, and many didn’t have the excuse of having their heads perpetually hanging over the opening of the Gates of Hell (aka: The Toilet.) like me and some other ladies.

[But, no, not You. You were fabulous as always.]

NaBloMoPo removes many bloggers from their normally effectual posting, be it daily or weekly, into this realm of having to post regardless of there actually being some merit to what they have to say.

[But, no, not You. You were fabulous as always.]

The sense of community was completely lost as a collective group just randomly hit “Mark All As Read”, skipping past entires they normally would have taken time to read. Because of the daunting numbers they were faced with while opening feed readers, there was, in turn, a lack of anyone clicking through and actually taking time to contribute. I for one spent a lot of time trying to skim my way through feeds to pick out what I wanted to read rather then tackling the entire site’s feed, then to click over and comment: I know I’m not alone either.

[But, no, not You. You were fabulous as always so I had to stay and read.]

I know, you’re thinking: But tell me how you REALLY feel.

I feel like her. In fact. I heart her so bad I’d dry hump her leg if she wasn’t like, an ENTIRE country away from me.

Next year, I say Fuck NO! to NaBloPoMo and instead of fretting over getting a post done in time, I’m going to read and enjoy what you have to say.

So, I pray to Baby Jesus that you say Fuck NO! to NaBloPoMo too, because I don’t know if I could handle another month of reading all that shit those posts clogging up my feed reader.

Was this your first time contributing? Did you enjoy it (if you’re new or have done it before, doesn’t matter), would you do it again? Did you feel the sense of community to be lost in the jumble of posts as well?

:::

Edited to add: For some reason it’s taking my comment notification emails upwards of 20 HOURS to come through… so I’m trying to pay attention to the comments coming through and responding to them on the blog instead of the emails I would normally send.