Listen To Your Valley Girl, M'kay?

This is going to be a weird post.  On the one hand, I’m going to tell you to be cautious, and on the other hand, I’m going to tell you not to give in to the fear.

Some of you longtime Valley Girl readers might remember the vicious, nasty, cuss-laden post I wrote to the person who burglarized our house nearly two years ago while Derek and I were at work.  Unless you’ve gone through a similar experience yourself, nobody can adequately convey the feeling of violation and rage that accompanies such an event.  It is nothing short of devastating. 

Though we have since gotten an activated alarm system and a doggie door so Big Brown Dog can satisfactorily patrol the entire premises, and though the police who investigated the crime assured us that “these people” who do these sorts of things almost never return to the scene of the crime for a repeat offense, the feeling of being unsafe never really goes away.  Most people end up selling the house and moving after being robbed for that very reason, but for others, that’s not really an option. 

One of my dearest friends of all time had such an experience last night, I’m sad to report.  Everyone was home and asleep and oblivious to what was happening in their home – even their mean, protective pit bull who would scare the bejebus out of anyone.  Some asshole got in, rifled through their most personal and expensive objects, picking and choosing what to take, and slipped out without being noticed.  All while their two kids slept in the next room. 

People, going through it myself was bad enough, but knowing someone you love is now going through these feelings is awful, and since you are likely someone I love if you are reading this, or even if I have never even met you, you are someone I care about, and I am begging you, BEGGING YOU—

Step up the home security right now.  Today.  I don’t care if your dog is Cujo and you sleep beside an insomniac Special Forces mercenary with Bionic hearing and a bad attitude.  KEEP YOUR DOORS AND WINDOWS LOCKED UP.  Put motion detector lights on your roof or by the front door.  Don’t leave out valuable stuff that can be seen from the street.  If you are home and someone comes to your door selling shit, let them know you are home, but don’t open the door.  Tell them (as I do) that you have a really mean dog that will bite them on the balls.  And as the cops who took our burglary report told us to do, put wooden dowels in your windows like this…

… so that windows cannot be forced open.  Every single window, even ones you think nobody would ever know about.  You can get these at any hardware store for cheap and cut them down to size to fit your windows, or have the dudes in the store do it for you.  And you know those plastic thingies that lock onto the window sash?  Do you have those?  Forget them – they don’t work and can easily be forced off.  That’s how Assholio got into our house.  Basically do everything to make your beloved pad say “Move along, Mother-Effer.”  These are hard times economically, and people will get more brazen about trying to steal your shit.  And while I sympathize with anyone having money probs, stealing what belongs to another and violating their sacred space is never the answer.

Which brings me to my next point I really want to make.  Don’t give in to the fear.  There is a lot of panic and paranoia in the air right now that only gets worse when people start feeling threatened.  They perpetuate a vibe of hostility.  I’m guilty of this – after our house was hit, a neighbor of mine cast suspicion on a guy down the street since he is kinda street-looking and drives a douchey car.  Other than being annoyed with his noisy douchey car, I never thought twice about the guy, but now I was looking at him with suspicion and hostility as well.  This is not good.  In times like these, we need to be reaching out to our neighbors with love and a helping hand more than ever, and thinking of ways we can help one another.  Being afraid of our current circumstances doesn’t help anything.  Our beautiful country has been through way worse and it will get through this.

But in the meantime, there’s nothing wrong with being a little extra cautious.  I’m just sayin’….

Be safe.

Love,

Jennie

 

 

Another Shitbiscuit

So now we wait. It’s only a matter of days now and could happen any minute. I’m not having any real signs of labor aside from more intense Braxton-Hicks contractions and have taken to doing as many activities as possible that involve sitting with my feet up: Eating Lucky Charms; eating a Chipwich; messing around on the computer; watching the TV; eating a Chipwich; fielding a jillion phone calls (“Are you STILL pregnant?”); and of course, eating a Chipwich.

And just so the Universe is sure I am kept on my toes, I get a call from my gyno’s office Thursday afternoon, four days before I am due to pump a chil’ren out into the world: Their office had been robbed that day. A nurse’s purse and checkbook were taken, along with 18 medical charts that were sitting out for the next day’s appointments. Mine was one of them. So not only does some nameless, faceless, chicken-shit asshole have my entire vaginal and reproductive history, but my address, social security number, date of birth, insurance info, you name it.

To say I did not react well would be kind of an understatement. Pregnancy is a very vulnerable time for even the most bad-ass of us women. I’m a pretty tough L.A. chick who does not adopt a victim stance in any situation. I consider myself to be pretty street-wise and I don’t put myself into compromising situations.

But this is a strange time in a woman’s life. Not only are you in a hyper-vigilant state because of the life you are nurturing inside you, but you are physically weaker, unbelievably tired, and waaaaaay more emotional than usual due to hormones and feeling out of control of your own body and mind.

Add to this the fact that there are a lot of sick puppies out there who do terrible things to children and to pregnant women, the knowledge of which is difficult to escape when the stories are all over the news and even entire shows are dedicated to such crimes on the crime and court TV channels and such. You can only filter out so much of reality, but some of it still seeps in and keeps you up at night. Because of this vulnerability, home security takes on a whole new meaning in a pregnant woman’s life. And when that security is messed with, it’s not difficult to completely lose it.

A couple of weeks ago, our alarm system was set off by accident and neither Derek nor I received a call from Protection One asking if they should send the police. When I called them to ask why, they informed me that we had changed the primary contact numbers several months ago. They rattled off two phone numbers I have never had nor even heard of in my life. As the maddening conversation with this “customer service” person went on, it became clear that Protection One had made some sort of clerical error with our account, and it was rectified and our correct contact numbers placed back on the account. I’m always saying it is extremely rare to find someone who does their job meticulously well anymore. I’m like Mr. Hand from Fast Times: “Are you people all on dope?” I am convinced that everyone in customer service is medicated, mentally-challenged, just doesn’t give a crap, or all three. Rare is the person you can get on the phone who comprehends the problem and knows what they’re doing, and can execute an efficient resolution. And this point was proven even in the security business, where being extremely detail-oriented is of extreme importance. So it was a stupid clerical error -- it's really no surprise.

But I was hysterical. What if the alarm hadn’t been set off by accident, but by another thieving asshole? As some of you may remember from a year and a half ago, we only have this alarm system in the first place because we have had our house broken into before and several important items stolen, not the least of which was our computer with a ton of irreplaceable personal photos and information on it. At the time, my only solace was to remind myself that they had not harmed my dogs, who were locked in the backyard and thus, unable to defend their house. You dickheads can take whatever stupid material things you like, just don’t touch my loved ones.

But the sense of being raped and blatantly pirated was devastating. Some stranger of God-knows-what origin had seen fit to invade our home, take whatever they wanted, look at our faces and those of our family and friends in our pictures, see where we sleep, what we ate for breakfast, what kind of toothpaste we use. The outrage you feel in that situation is indescribable. And it had all happened in broad daylight while we were at our jobs, trying to earn a living.

And here I was, faced with that icky, powerless feeling again. Somebody has stormed in and taken what is rightfully mine on the eve of the most important event in my life – bringing my first child into the world. Seriously, WTF?? Who the hell does this to people? What happens to them in life that this is an acceptable solution to a money shortage?

Of course I placed the fraud alert with the credit reporting agencies and with my health insurance and so forth. Had a good “Why Me?” cry on Derek and my girls. But where is the lesson in all this? I used to enjoy being the person who would walk the dogs and leave all the doors and windows unlocked. I never looked over my shoulder at the gardener or worker on the street I didn’t recognize. I freely gave out my social security number when I visited a health practitioner and didn’t think twice about it. Is the lesson here that I am too trusting? That trust is bad? I hardly think so, but it’s hard not to feel that way with all these security breaches happening.

Anyhoo, I post this not just to bitch, although I do feel better having released it into the internet ether, but to warn you all: Don’t give out your social to anybody. ANYBODY. Most people who ask for it on forms and stuff don’t really need it anyway. Leave it blank, and tell them to have the insurance company contact you personally if there is some problem verifying your identity. Run your credit report periodically to be sure there are no strange items on there that you did not sign up for. When I worked doing massage at the chiropractor’s office, patients’ charts with all their most personal information were left out on the front counter every single day in front of God and everybody, and nobody ever complained. I’m begging you – please complain. According to the police who handled the theft from my doctor’s office, this is becoming more common: Identity thieves will hire some petty pissant to specifically take medical files because they are a goldmine of information. And there are always people in and out of a doctor’s office. It is impossible to keep track between specimen-drop-offs, patients, lab workers, etc., not to mention medical care workers who are shits and will sell your information to the highest bidder. They will harvest your information and use it whenever they want. And that is just a hassle you don’t need, whether you’re about to have a baby or not.

So do me that favor, m’kay? I think I just figured out what my lesson in all this was….

Another Thing That Pisses Me Off

How the flu shot is pushed onto people at every turn, especially children and the elderly.  

I have never had a flu shot in my life, mainly because it never made sense to me that I be vaccinated for one or two particular strains of flu when there are so many strains out there, not to mention those strains mutating and becoming something else -- the very nature of what a virus does.  Add to that getting some of the symptoms of the flu after you get the shot because your body doesn't like the crap you just injected it with and reacts.  And there's no guarantee I won't come down with the flu after getting the shot?  And I pay $20-30 for the privilege?  No thanks.  

This article addresses the money-making sham of the flu shot, and talks about how the recent death of a little girl in Minnesota is being used to hype the shot even more.  Back to the children and the elderly part -- the flu shot contains tons of mercury, in levels that are extremely toxic for anyone who weighs less than 550 lbs.  Why, why, why would you want to put that into the body of a little person or older person who has low immunity to begin with???

I'm pissed!  When does it stop?

This Just Boils My Blood

Pun intended. 

I am currently reading this book, The Sanctity of Human Blood: Vaccination Is Not Immunization, by Tim O’Shea, which was loaned to me by the chiropractor I was doing massage for when I asked him why he didn't have his kids vaccinated.  To say it is incredibly disturbing, well-referenced and researched common sense and hard to put down would be an understatement.  Just ask my husband – I would not shut up about it the other night over dinner for at least an hour.

This article is in the same vein, concerning the Hep-B vaccine that is routinely administered to every infant born in this country, and something that most people just don’t know about or think to investigate.  Ya know, I have to say, as a parent-to-be, you have enough shit to worry about without also throwing in what our own government deems safe to inject into your baby’s body so that Big Pharma can make billions.  

And if you think the government gives a rat’s ass about your health or that of your child’s, think again.  Can you say Massive Meat Recall?

An Open Letter To The Asshole Who Burglarized Our House On Friday

[Editor’s Note: My next post was supposed to be all about our upcoming trip to Italy where we will be getting married, and the planning of said trip. Life had other plans for us, and this post had to come next instead. This post contains the F-word -- the first, and likely the last time you will see its use on this blog. If you are offended by coarse language, it is recommended you skip this post and go directly to www.cuteoverload.com. Thank you.]

Dear Shitbiscuit,

Fuck you. You fucking piece of shit asshole.

Congratulations. You are now the proud owner of a laptop that is 3 years old (practically a dinosaur in today’s fast-paced technology world) that gave us nothing but problems from the minute we had it. It crashes frequently, has a broken disk drive, and no longer even recognizes the external disk drive we bought for it, much to the dismay of the computer and disk drive manufacturers we contacted to try to make it work properly. We were trying to figure out how much of our life savings we were going to have to shell out to the Geek Squad or Dork Squad or whoever to get the darn thing to work correctly after nobody else could. So I hope whatever knucklehead you sell it to for your pathetic drug money comes back after realizing you sold them a huge paper weight, and pulverizes your pathetic bitch-ass into dust. All those family photos, love letters, story ideas, scripts I had written, etc. They can’t be replaced, but perhaps you will get some amusement from them while you are recovering in the hospital from a disk drive being shoved up your ass.

The checkbook you took is useless to you as well, since we had our accounts switched right away. Sorry! Maybe you can use the checks to write notes to yourself like, “Hey Assmunch! You’re out of TP! Oh, and you SUCK ASS! Love, Dickweed.”

The digital camera I had just purchased was a low blow. I put a lot of research and money into getting just the exact right one. I had taken a few cute pictures of the dogs on it to test it out, but was, alas, unable to download them on the laptop yet since, you guessed it, the disk with the camera software couldn’t be downloaded on the piece of shit laptop! Oh, and since you took the camera right out of its box, we were able to give the serial number in the police report, so if you sell it, the po-po will find you! Sorry!

The other expensive stuff you took here and there hurt too, but since the dogs were stuck in the backyard, all they could do was bark at you while you picked and chose amongst our hard-earned belongings what to take. We got a doggie door, so that will never happen again. The next time you or your dickface ilk ever get the wild hair up your ass to rob us again, you will be met with a big, muscular, pissed off, slobbering-like-Hooch Big Brown Dog who is still anxious and bitter even three days later that he wasn’t able to tear your piece of shit head off your body when he had the chance. Trust me when I say, you won’t get a warning next time, Dickwad. He took down a burglar when we lived in The 'Hood, don't think he can't take your ass too.

But all of this I can take. It’s really just material things when it comes down to it. The dogs were unharmed and my engagement ring was safely on my finger and everything else can be replaced. It wasn’t until later, after the police had left, after my mom had left, after an eerie calm had settled over me (with the help of a Corona). I had already screamed and cried and raged and was exhausted. It was what you did to Derek. He was furious. He was full of rage, disappointment, angry at himself for not being able to protect his castle, angry at you, our unknown, unseen enemy. He was hurt and shaken to the core, but unlike me, the chick who can cry like it’s an Olympic sport, had nowhere to put it. Being a decent man, he had nothing to hit, no conduit to release these feelings. The look in his eyes is something I will never forget. That is what makes me want to kill you, you fucking piece of shit, for making the man I love feel that way for even an instant. God help you if we ever cross paths, and I discover it was you who did this. You are in harm’s way.

And you couldn’t take Italy from us, so again, fuck you.

Douchebag asshole.