I got up around 6:15 am because Baba wanted to eat. That’s pretty standard chowtime for him, so he and I went downstairs so I could give him his breakfast in a semi-comatose fashion. Well, he was awake. I was Not.

You know what was on SOAPnet? 90210. I watched 1.5 episodes - the graduation and the one where they hang the “Bev HS 93” sign over the Hollywood sign. I was never a fan of the show, really, though I watched a lot of the first season, and part of the second. But watching a show from 15 years ago is a big heaping teaspoon of cotton candy nostalgia that I can’t pass up. Not at 630 am anyway. My reactions:

1. I can’t believe they graduated the same year I did.

2. I am so freaking old.

3. Why was Luke Perry supposed to be hot? I don’t think he acted so much as moved his chin around.

4. How in the world did Jason Priestley’s hair stay that way for years, and not move? He’s like the teen 90’s version of Jimmy Johnson.

5. Would Shannen Doherty ever trim her freaking bangs?! Jeez. I’m amazed she doesn’t have microscopic cuts on her corneas.

6. Wasn’t Ahhhhhndrea, like, 45 years old in real life? Did she ever stop being miserable and neurotic (the character, not the actress)?

7. How come everyone else looked about 28 years old, while Brian Austin Green looked 12? Does he still look 12?

I feel so ancient having watched it. I need to go watch Hannah Montana - that’ll send me right into the geriatric home.

• It is news around the world - a top story even - that Jamie Lynn Spears is pregnant.
• Comments following that story like cars on a really long ass train are words like “white trash,” “trailer,” “stupid,” “idiot,” “low class,” and “what the fuck?”
• Because economic status, place of birth, relative intellect, present domicile and access to fame, attention, and money definitely contribute to increased rates of teen pregnancy.
• Really, is it a surprise that, given the state of this country’s attitude toward women’s health, birth control, condom availability for teenagers, and sexual education among young people, that a 16 year old got pregnant?
• Obviously, money and some external standard of behavior and style are the real defense against unwanted, unplanned pregnancy.
• Reforming our attitude towards sex, birth control, and lobbying to make birth control options and sexual education available to young people in the US, that’s not the answer at all. No, no, no. Can’t have young people having access to affordable birth control. Or information about sexual reproduction.
• Personally speaking, I’m waiting for an IUD to ship. I’m sure everyone who knows me is pleased to know that. Why an IUD? Because I cannot tolerate birth control pills without becoming a screaming bitchtastic hosebeast. They make me breathtakingly ill, as well, with migraines that eliminate at least 24-36 hours of my ability to function.
• My insurance company is very likely going to fight me on the IUD costs, both for the unit itself ($400) and for the procedure to place it ($150).
• My insurance company does cover birth control pills, and the entire costs of hospital care for and following my cesarean section, which totaled well over $6,000.00 for both Baba and myself. 
• But an IUD, which will stop me from incurring another $6k in medical costs for a birth and will remain effective for up to 12 years? Not likely. 
• They also cover Viagra, Cialis, Levitra, and other male enhancement drugs, come to think of it.
• So what’s my point? My point is that we’re all going to roll our eyes, point and sneer, laugh and make jokes about some 16 year old sister of a fucked up famous person because she got pregnant unintentionally. 
• Suppose I’m a sixteen year old. Suppose I can’t tolerate birth control pills, or I have no way of getting them easily. Suppose I’m too scared to be seen buying condoms. Can I come up with $650 to get an IUD? Oh, please. So if I have sex, I cross my fingers and hope I’m lucky while the rest of the country tells me I should be crossing my legs instead. 
• Yeah, that makes sense. 
• I’m going back to my news fast, because I can think of ten or eleven better things to do with my time than make fun of a 16 year old who is in a really tough position, AND has to deal with being a top story around the world on top of her unplanned pregnancy. 
• Imagine the stink if she had elected to have an abortion and THAT story got out. Poor kid.
• Number one on that list of better things to do: a donation to PlannedParenthood.

My Give-a-Shit is so broken, I’m shocked. Usually I put everyone before myself, ignore what I need or want and make sure everyone else is ok. Now? I could not possible give less of a shit about people if they aren’t the least bit interested in asking how I am. I have some really great friends who always ask how I’m doing, what’s up, yadda yadda, even if I’m head down and going 90 miles an hour through my daily life. I appreciate that more than I can say.

But somehow I’m more aware lately of the people in my life for whom everything, and I mean everything, is really All About Them. And man, my give-a-shit is so not even listening to their noise. I’m not saying altars need to be built to my awesomeness, but, well it’s like this. There are orbit people and there are black hole people. Orbit people do their thing, and maybe they pass by you while you’re on your orbit, and there’s a fair exchange of information. Orbit people don’t expect you to get off your orbit and follow theirs, and you don’t necessarily expect them to jump off their path and join you.

Black hole people, obviously, suck everything in around them with a force that’s impossible to fight at times, and everything is all about them like damn.

I’m less and less tolerant of the black hole people - and I’m also totally worried that I myself am becoming one, now that my give-a-shit is broken.

*DISCLAIMER* I am not a passive aggressive person, and I do not use my blog to drop hints. I’d hate to think I made anyone who knows me personally and who also reads this site feel self-conscious because I am aware of who reads this page and I would never be so underhanded and wussy as to tell the internet instead of you personally. The folks I’m speaking of above are people who don’t read this page, so please don’t think I mean you. You, I like. So don’t worry. 

*crunch crunch, crunch swish, crunch crunch*

- Sound of Morag chipping away at 4” of ice on the windshield of her car for 20 minutes.

*slurrrrrrrrrp*

- Sound of Morag drinking coffee as fast as possible to warm up after ice chipping excavation of car (both hers and Hubby’s)

*Attention all operators: the XBL is now open after an earlier disabled car in the Lincoln Tunnel. Traffic should be moving shortly*

- Sound of bus driver’s radio with news that the XBL (aka the eXpress Bus Lane) into the Lincoln Tunnel is now a mess and I will be in traffic.

*sigh*

- Morag realizing she forgot her cell phone.

*gulp*

- Morag realizing her Blackberry from work, which does not have phone service but does have data service, is completely dark from an uncharged battery.

*Attention all operators: there is an accident involving a bus and a car at the entrance to the XBL. Please use 495, which is bad, but moving.*

- Sound of bus driver’s radio telling me my commute is now about 1/2 hour to 45 minutes longer.

*Attention all operators: the accident at the XBL is now cleared*

- Sound of bus driver’s radio offering me false hope.

*Attention all operators: there is a disabled bus in the bus lane. Please use 495. If you are in the bus lane, the bus should be cleared soon.*

- Sound of bus driver’s radio mocking me for ever thinking I’d get to work on time.

*Thank you for riding NJ Transit*

- Sound of bus driver who would probably rather be at home sleeping at this point.

*Want to lose more weight this winter? You probably need to, so listen up!*

- Sound of absolutely fucking obnoxious tv/credit card machine in the taxi I took to work. I turned it off.

*That thing is annoying.*

- Sound of taxi driver who was grateful I shut the thing off.

*Thank you ma’am*

- Taxi driver after I gave him a really good tip. Someone needs to have a good day today, right?

Right. 

Dear Weather:

You are totally interrupting our plans to excavate the back yard and therefore pissing me off. Not only that but it’s not even SNOW you’re dumping over here. There’s ice on the trees, and slush on the roads, and on my driveway? I can only describe it as “Sno-cone.” It’s heavy, and it sucks, and at night when it gets below freezing I have a freaking skating rink for a driveway.

So if you could just be chilly or something for awhile, without the “sno-cone” dumpage, that’d be great. Because two storms of Sno-cone in 4 days makes for a very cranky Morag.

Achoo,

M.

Made it to work on time, rocked out to my iPod, and had a smile on my face most of the day.

But little things pile up to bug the shit out of me, and it’s harder not to get cranky.

Perhaps this means it is snack time. Yay, snacktime!

I have to say, having children is a surefire way to cure any average working person in this country of their blind American-workaholism. There’s this sense, especially in Manhattan, this pressure that if you’re not exhausted, sleepless, stressed out and working nonstop, you aren’t doing it right. Having a baby and a two year old taught me real freaking fast that all that working is so not the point.

Of course, I have a job and a half, maybe a job and three quarters of a second job, in order to make an attempt at building a life for myself that will allow me to take better care of my children in the long run. So I’m mad busy now, hoping I’ll be slightly less busy later.

But I hope I learn from the chaos that I need to appreciate the quiet times, that if I clear something from my schedule I do NOT and should NOT immediately replace it with something else.

I have enough on my plate. In fact, I need a smaller plate.

1. What do I do here again? I need job training.

2. It was cold at 6am. Also, I wanted to go back to sleep.

3. There was an ad in the subway for “Alvin & The Chipmunks” - a digitally animated movie. With Alvin et al dressed like rappers from 1982. Velour track suit? Check. I bet they’re wearing K-Swiss shoes and some major bling, too. WTF?

4. Sign in the Port Authority: “Due to inclement weather in the Lincoln Tunnel, Expect Delays.” There’s WEATHER in the tunnel?! Seriously? What, like a rogue thunderstorm snuck into the tube and is raining under the river? Weird.

5. Not being 9 months pregnant, as I was the last time I went to work, means I can walk a LOT faster AND in kickass high heel boots. This made the commute a LOT easier. Except for the part wherein I had to DO the commute.