Breaking News: Pinal County Sheriff is Outed


Guess what! If you haven’t already heard, Pinal County Sheriff, Paul Babeu, is gay! When I first heard about it, I thought, “Wonderful! We have something in common. So am I!” Oh! Not that kind of gay?

So, the man isn’t holding a press conference because someone called him out on being incredibly happy. Sheriff Babeu is a homosexual. Does that change what he has done with his career or who he is as a person? Did he awake the morning The New Times ran their story and decide he now needed to change his whole personality? I sure hope not. After all, who the hell cares?

Obviously, I care enough to write about it. But, that’s as far as it goes. Didn’t Lawrence v. Texas say it was perfectly legal to do whatever you want in your own bedroom? So, why is it such a big deal? Because the man is a Conservative? Is there a special templated checklist someone must check off in order to be Republican or Democrat? If so, I might have both parties screaming, “Old Adela belongs to you. No! She’s all yours! Can we just toss her over to the Libertarians? They’ll never notice. They’re probably too busy smoking, anyhow.” After all, if we want to put everyone into their own little political cubby of what they should be like….

If Sheriff Babeu had been a Democrat nothing would have been said. It would have been a shrug or, “So? I thought so all along?” But, because he doesn’t fit into that perfect little mold, it’s supposed to be shocking and controversial.

Which brings me to his personal life. We have gotten so much into this reality television and tabloid way of life that we need to know everything about someone’s personal life, just because we know their name. There was a time that personal meant personal. If someone was an actor or a politician, we focused on their performance or how they did their job. Not what goes on behind closed doors. After all, my co-workers didn’t know every detail of my life. Heck! I don’t even know every detail of my life.

So, that’s my rant for the day. I was going to catch you up with all the sordid details of my personal life, since October, but I saw this on the news and wanted to get my thoughts on this out of the way, first.

Be back Wednesday.

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Published in: on February 20, 2012 at 9:12 pm  Comments (1)  
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Not for the Weak of Heart


It’s my favorite time of year. We just had a hail storm that decided to take a tour of the state. This means my air conditioning unit can take a nap and I might be able to start prepping my garden.

Yesterday the Arizona Cardinals had their first REAL game of the season. FOOTBALL! Yes, I do enjoy it. I’m not obsessed, yet it’s makes for fun family time. My second youngest son is a Cardinals fan, while the rest of the family have our hearts devoted to the Green Bay Packers. The most fun is when the two teams play against each other. It becomes a challenge between our son and Mr. Greene on who is going to win.

Football season has always been my favorite time of year. In high school the games and dances that followed created memories, both good and bad, to carry for a lifetime. I met one of my favorite girl friends while attending one of my first high school football games. Now that she lives in Wisconsin, she better be a devoted Packers, too.

The season changes. The air is crisp, while the scent from tailgate parties fills the air. Meanwhile, Mr. Greene gets an urge to throw on a helmet and pad his shoulders, so he can tackle somebody. He says he doesn’t understand,either. Especially since he hasn’t played football since he was 13. It isn’t as if he has an urge to wrestle every time he sees a wrestling match.

But, that’s the magic of football season.

But, if you’re a Cardinals fan, it’s best to have your blood pressure checked. It’s also a good idea to make sure that you are actually breathing every chance you get. If the Cardinals are good at one thing, it’s generally how to turn a winning game into a losing one at the very last minute. I know they did win yesterday. I was keeping track and could feel my blood pressure going up, down, up, down, and was that sideways?

Which is why I say, football is not for the weak of heart. It’s a sport where manly men get to romp around in the mud, chasing an oblong ball, trash talking and dogpiling on each other, and no one thinks twice about being smacked on the back end.

The season is here and it looks like it’s going to be amazing. So, let’s pull out the grill, get our cheesehead hats, and watch us some football.

Published in: on September 12, 2011 at 4:00 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Five Things Not to Do With Your Three Day Weekend


Happy Labor Day weekend!

It’s Friday afternoon and a fabulous three day weekend lies ahead. This includes a weekend of fun in the sun, barbecuing, and hanging out with friends.
I hope you will all have fun, too, but avoid making the following stupid mistakes that can muck up your weekend plans.

(1) Do not start a forest fire. According to this press release for last Spring’s Arizona Wildfire Awareness Week, over half of the wildfires in Arizona are caused by people.
This means the other half are caused by lightning and squirrels not putting their cigarettes out before going to bed.
As much as we enjoyed the wet weather last winter, the sun makes all that lush greenery into tinderbox fodder come summer.
I for one, hate changing plans because a forest is closed or a friend’s house is in danger of being burned down. Especially, when it can all be avoided by taking an extra five minutes to make sure fires are put out. If you aren’t sure, put your hand into the coals. If you burn yourself, you can be thankful that it was just your hand and not the whole forest.

(2) Do not start a brawl over a football game. Whether your Mercedes Benz was dinged by a football before the Rose Bowl or you just didn’t like someone else’s football team, it can hardly be worth the hassle of going to jail and not being able to see anymore football games, in person, for a long time.
Just remember, even if the other guy is a complete idiot, you can wake up the next morning knowing you’ll have a good day — outside of prison — and the other guy is still an idiot.

(3) Stay away from all social media, while drinking. As a friend of mine says, “If I don’t remember it, it didn’t happen.” The statement works best if you also leave no evidence. If you must drink so much that you aren’t going to remember anything about your fabulous night out, at least make sure there is also no physical evidence left behind.
It’s easier to convince everyone in the bar that they must have been more drunk than you, when they thought they saw you doing a strip tease on the bar, than it would be if someone uploads video to Facebook or you tweet: Am I drunk. Going to dance for the cute bartender now.
#winning
It’s funny for the rest of us, but you might be hearing about it for a much a longer time.
On second thought, just avoid getting drunk. The story will continue to follow you, anyway.

(4) Do not call the police if you feel you were ripped off during an illegal transaction. We’ve all heard about the news articles about the scholars who decide to call the police when they find out the drugs they bought aren’t worth what they paid for. Or, this 26 year old Einstein, who was not satisfied that the escort he called for did not look like the picture in her advertisement. If you already paid for it, it’s over. Meanwhile, the police, the reporter, and anyone who reads that article is now laughing at you.

(5) Do not become a candidate for the Darwin Award This one should go without saying. If something seems like a fun idea, but, “If this doesn’t work out, I might….” Stop! Walk away! Go back to sleep. You don’t want to be that lamebrain who got his fifteen minutes of fame by dying in such a ludicrous way that his friends won’t admit to knowing him.
Your last words should not be, “I just wanna pet the tiger.”

Have a great weekend! See you Monday. Hopefully!

Published in: on September 2, 2011 at 8:32 pm  Leave a Comment  
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My Arizona Rant


Guess what, folks! I’m famous! I was mentioned in an article written by gawker.com. Sure, I wasn’t mentioned by name, but the thought was there. I am one of those old, angry white people who caused Arizona’s “Worst state” listing. What’s gawker.com? Don’t worry. I don’t know who they are, either, and won’t remember them much past the time it takes to write this blog. But, that’s because the heat is obviously cooking my brain, as we speak. This is why I am so angry, after all. It has nothing to do with the stupidity of people who have nothing better to write about. At least I have an excuse.

The other given reasons are SB1070, Jan Brewer, and Joe Arpaio. I am now going to write an article about why the U.S. must be the worst country. After all, our economy is in the tank and our government leaders are more interested in playing games and one-upping each other, than showing any leadership quality. Thank God, the endearing qualities of a country or a state aren’t solely based on the ridiculous antics of its government. Otherwise, much of Europe would be screwed.

I am an Arizona native. Except for the heat of the centralized “Easy Bake Oven” I cannot imagine living anywhere else. While I have known people who have gone, many come back saying they just couldn’t stay away. As a nature lover, this is the place I want to be able to spend my days. Even the article gave Arizona credit for that.

But, what is the problem with Arizona? That’s easy. Out-of-staters. I’m not necessarily speaking of snowflakes…er…birds….either. Granted they don’t know how to keep up with traffic (although, you would think after a few years of snowbirding that would be figured out), they congest our golf courses, public events, and make our summer discounts go away. In reality, I have met a number of wonderful snowbirds. Some I even miss during the summer time.

The ones I am speaking of are those who escape from another state, then spend their time complaining about what’s wrong with mine. Just like any family member, I can pick on it, but if you do, you’re dealing with me. It never makes sense. Why be here if you hate it so much? You’re just taking up my golf course space and taking my summer discount rates, without appreciation.

As for this amazing team of wanna-be investigative reporters, the least worst state? Of course, the state they are located in – New York. Why? Because, they embrace gay rights. That’s what I would base my whole criteria on. Never mind New York City’s bad traffic, bad attitude, high crime rate, being the headquarters for the United Nations and that it smells funny. After all, if people are going to have such a limited view of what Arizona is, I can easily return the favor.

This angry, old white person is now signing out to fry an egg on my driveway or start soup in my pool for tonight’s dinner. Keep cool. Summer can’t last forever.

Published in: on August 31, 2011 at 3:31 pm  Comments (3)  
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Arizona Weather and News Casting


Last week I needed to take some time off to get ready for Mothers Day weekend. Which  meant hiding out in a hotel suite, watching chick flicks, eating chocolates and strawberries, while hoping my children wouldn’t track me down.

I came back to my special little place in the world, affectionately known as hell, to find that today’s high was set to be in the 70s. I went to sleep with the a/c blowing as I sweated, only to wake up freezing. This is the bi-polar personality of Arizona. Every Spring and Fall, Arizona plays the hot and cold game. For weeks now, I have been packing and unpacking the winter trunk.

 The winter trunk is not what you think. No gloves, scarves, or wooly coats.  It just means clothing with long sleeves and slightly thicker material, as opposed to my halter tops and Daisy Duke shorts.   I will now  pause as you try to get that image wiped out of your mind…….

 The local idiot newscasters are always surprised every year by any change in weather.  They are never happy with anything that resembles  pleasant weather.  I remember one beautiful late Spring day, many, many years ago as I made my way from the cool breezes and tranquility of Northern Arizona back to Dante’s Inferno, when a voice from a Valley radio station excitedly yelled, “We’ve made it to 100 degrees!!!!” Yay? That’s like getting excited that you have a headache. You know it’s going to happen at some point, but you shouldn’t be looking forward to it.

 Within weeks of the initial ‘We’re burning in an oven’ dance, which may really be about not being about to keep your feet on the ground for too long without sizzling like a piece of bacon, the whining begins . “It’s so hot!……When will it cool down?…..We can’t believe it’s the middle of July and it’s been over 110 degrees for ten days. When did something like this ever happen?” Maybe….last year?

 Then, August begins and we might get relief for a few hours out of the month. Monsoons are described as “seasonal winds that bring torrential rainfall”. Also known as, “wasn’t the sun just here a moment ago and who installed the outdoor shower”? Being in the Valley, the monsoons have a few ways of playing tricks on us. It will rain throughout the rest of the state and the moisture will take a trip to see what our dust bowl looks like. Which means, we swelter twice as much and those of us who enjoy our swamp coolers, get to pay four times as much in tributes to our local  electric company, when we are forced to start using our air conditioners. Or, breaking news will cut into my favorite television shows just to report that three drops of stray rain were spotted somewhere around Cave Creek.

 When we do get a visit from the rain gods, we celebrate. We dance around in the streets. We splash in the rain. We pretend we’re Gene Kelly. Then, the downpour stops, some transformer miles away is hit by lightning and we sit in the hot, sticky darkness wondering when we can use our A/C’s again.

 Meanwhile, the local wing-a-dings are reporting that parts of Tempera and Messia (Tempe and Mesa, for those who don’t live here)  have an outage, but if we keep watching, they will report on when power has been restored.

 Which part is more of annoyance, do you think? That the news will inform me of when to expect my power on when I cannot look at the news or that broadcast journalists go to school for years just to learn how to mispronounce the names of the towns they are reporting on? If you are going to live someplace and talk about it, it makes you look less like a fool if you can take five minutes to properly pronounce the local names.

 Is it the heat that fries the brains of our newscasters, like the eggs in the parking lot in the summer sun or is bubble headedness a requirement to report news to a live audience?

I’ve already decided.

Published in: on May 9, 2011 at 5:29 pm  Comments (2)  
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