I know a guy who works in pediatric ER, and he told me that one of the most common complaints he gets is Cockroach in the Ear. I thought he was pulling my leg, but no, he was serious. A small cockroach will tunnel its way into the child's ear and then start scurrying about in there. Meanwhile, the kid is screaming. The doctor does manage to kill the cockroach and pull it out, but the prevalence of the condition, I think, speaks volumes about the level of squalor in peoples' houses in Baltimore City.
Don't get me wrong, I've been there. In our first flat in the City, we had our share of cockroaches, mice and ants, but I never woke up to find a cockroach scrabbling its way through to my brain. It just makes me think that in the homes where kids get a cockroach in the ear, the floors must be knee deep in the critters. Whereas in our flat I only occasionally saw a cockroach. A smart cockroach knows that to venture outside in broad daylight is cockroach suicide, as the natural impulse of the human is to stomp on one. I once commited cockroach manslaughter when I stood on one while I was going to the bathroom at night in my bare feet. Not nice, picking that off the sole of your foot.
The house in which we now reside has a damp basement and has an infestation of pale bloodless grasshoppers who fester down there in the dark. I do enjoy crunching those (wearing shoes). Not that they are really doing anyone any harm, but I enjoy the occasional bout of Massacre of the Hoppers.
There are some creatures we will gladly kill and others that we will not. Like, I will always swerve my car in an attempt not to kill a squirrel. And yet, why is a squirrel's life more important than a hopper's?
It seems like it is easier to make these kinds of decisions in China. There's a rule that says: if it moves, kill it and eat it. Yeah, I know the concept of eating everying that moves is a legacy from when times were very rough and you basically ate anything you could get your hands on or starved. Still, to our way of thinking it is still odd. Did you know that the Chinese eat duck embryos, aborted reindeer foetus (good for the skin, apparently) and even human foetuses (due to the one child policy there are huge amounts of abortions, mainly of females. I am not against abortion, but I sincerely hope that eating human foetuses is an urban myth). Then there's your dog, donkey, horse, bull, even tiger penises (tiger penis, although illegal, can be procured if you are willing to shell out $5,700). Or what about cow’s bronchial tubes or braised monkey brain (eaten straight out of the monkey's skull)? I can tell your mouth is watering.
I am not for a moment saying that odd bits of animals do not get into, say, the 'hamburgers' of some of this country's finest fast food establishments. But if I am going to enjoy a dog penis, I don't want it floating in all its glory in my soup. Call me old fashioned, but I want it minced up, smothered in ketchup and served in a bun with a side order of fries. Do you know what I mean?
In the future, mammals will have to adjust to our artificial environment or perish
I was listening to some ‘expert’ on the radio just now, who was talking about how, in thirty years, half the mammals currently alive today will be extinct. My first reaction was, how depressing. But then, after thinking about it for a bit, I came to the conclusion that it was a sad but inevitable part of evolution.
How so? Well, ask yourself this, in our current artificial world, what in God’s name is the point of a whale? You’re far too large, mate. Or a koala? Yes, they look very cute, but what in the name of Jesus is their function? And don’t get me started on the panda. Any animal that needs to be artificially inseminated deserves to go the way of the dodo.
I know all you animal lovers will be up in arms, but I don’t really believe that an animal should be your best friend. If one is, well, maybe you have a problem. You can’t talk to a cow, and you can’t make love to a sheep, unless you live in Wales and have a special permit. Seriously, how soon do you think it would be before your dog or cat turned on you and stripped you limb from limb if you stopped feeding it? Try it, I dare you.
And as for zoos, which are keeping endangered species alive, all well and good, but look at the animals that live there. How many are mad and pacing around like nutters? The majority, from what I have observed. And why shouldn’t they go mad? You would too under the circumstances. Ask yourself this: Would you want to live in an ‘enclosure’ the size of a prison cell, with people gawping at you and laughing while you scratch your privates or try and have a quick shag with your cell mate? Course you wouldn’t.
I recently flicked through a book called Why Men Are The Way They Are by Warren Farrell, which basically puts forward the premise that women should stop being so emotionally dependent on men, and if they weren’t, we would have a much happier society. He says that now, in our technological age, there is no need for any woman to be financially or emotionally dependent on men. To which I say, yes, I’m all for that, total equality, but feminism has been going for a mere hundred years, as opposed to the millions of years in which pathways were cemented in the brain which cause the sexes to behave the way they do. My husband studies the brain, so I know a bit about this, and it’s actually well documented that the way Stone Age people lived is more or less the way our brains are programmed to function today. It’s no accident that many women live in romantic fantasy worlds and are emotionally dependent on men. That’s the way it was in the Stone Age. In the Stone Age, if a woman wasn’t ga ga about her hairy brute, there was no way she was going to sit around a fire for days waiting for him to come back with a dead mammoth and give her a three minute fuck, now was there? Same as, why are men often violent? It is a proven fact that men don’t exhibit the self control women do when under attack, and will often resort to physical violence. Obviously, it has to do with how, in the old days, you had to smash the enemy’s face in first, think later, in order to defend your tribe etc. But let’s face it, the time for punching someone’s lights out because they’ve pinched your stash of Post-It notes is now well and truly over.
What I mean is, I’m all for men and women learning new ways of behaviour that are more relevant to our current age, but it’s going to take thousands and thousands of years for new pathways to be burnt into the brain. Got that Warren? It’s not going to happen next week just because you’ve written a book about it.
Now, humans will probably be able to adapt to the new, nature free, synthetic world we live in. But for those animals that can’t, what is the point of keeping them alive? You tell me.
Also, it is tragic that Planet Earth will soon be totally destroyed, but that’s the way it’s going, so deal with it. There are always doom-mongers saying, “This ruined planet is the punishment we humans have got for turning away from Jesus, having promiscuous sex, masturbating and looking at Internet porn.” But actually, God-botherers, that’s incorrect. It is progress, not promiscuity, that has driven the planet to its knees. And all those that cannot adapt will perish.
On a totally different topic, if you have any weird sexual problems, if your wife has run off with the postman or if you just have an urge to get something off your chest, fear not, I am here to help you out. Many have found sweet relief through my agony column, The E-Spot. You can too! Just write to me at emma.theespot@[remove]gmail.com and I will post the answer right here on my blog! By the way, do let me know if you wish to remain anonymous.
Ja, ja, I had quite a groovy time in Vienna. This time, only ten days with mother, thus avoiding a total nervous breakdown by myself (which happened last year when I was there with the two kids for something like six weeks). She is very high energy and manic, and I am of the slacker persuasion and, like oil and water, the two personality styles do not mix. A few pictures from the trip:
When I arrived at the airport, the paps kept snapping me and saying: "Over here Posh!" Not much happens in Vienna, so I guess they got themselves a bit confused, and seeing as I was an English bird with bags of style, they thought I was Lady Becks. I told them not to be ridiculous, that you could fit Posh down my sleeve, that I was simply Mommyhasaheadache, a world famous blogger, and why didn't they leave me the heck alone? But the damage had been done to my psyche. And for a while there I lost my identity and was channelling Posh:
Eventually I found my old scruffy identity and watched a bit of the Live Earth Concert, which was broadcast outside the mayor's house (Rathaus):
My mother exhausted me by taking me to a lot of parties:
And okay, keep it under your wig, but I did have a bit of a fling with a man who wore a lot of white face powder and told me his name was Wolfgang Amadeus (a likely story!)
Then, on my return from Vienna, my husband informed that something supposedly bad had happened to a mate of mine called Dodgy. I immediately sat down and penned Dodgy a letter:
I am so relieved you are out of my life. I am so glad someone stole you away from me while I was in Vienna. Let's face it, you were beaten up, damaged, and yeah, maybe I was guilty of inflicting those scratches on your rear and sides, but I was so sick of looking at your ugly face. Also, you were full of hot air. I'd switch on the AC and hot air would blast into my face for ten minutes before it turned cold. What a blessing that you are no longer around.
Good luck wherever you are. I know you might turn up again, but it's more likely that you are burnt up in a field somewhere, unrecognisable.
You will always be the first car I had after I learnt to drive. I'd like to say that means you'll always have a place in my heart, but let's not get sentimental, you were just my first car, someone to make lots of mistakes in, and frankly, I'm pleased we're no longer together.
Take care, Emma
In case no one got that, it was a letter to my Dodge Neon that was pilfered during my trip away. I'm so happy about it because that car was such a pile of crap. Also, I reckon I should do all right out of the car insurance. Sweet.
As some of you may know, one of my oldest friends is Posh Spice. She did a guest post on my blog once here. I know how much you all want to look into this fascinating woman's head, so I thought I'd let her go ahead and tell you what's on her mind:
Hi Fans and Friends!
As some of you may know, the Spice Girls are gonna get back together. Some of them people that hates us thinks that the £ 20 million we's each getting is why we'se doin it. But what peoples don't know iz that we is artists and bring joy to people and this is an opportunity to do it again.
Other stuff I'm doin in my new L.A. pad is puttin in the world's largest flat-screen TV, which is like 103 inches across and only cost us £50,000. When visitors walk into the room its in, the flatscreen displays a picture of me and David but when you claps your hands the TV comes on. Wicked! Also we has a great security system so we can look at the view of whatever is going on in any of the rooms in the house through the internet. Great innit?
We also has ten security guards so don't try breakin in or you'll be kneecapped, no disrespect.
Yes, the rumors is true, we is going to have solid gold fixtures and fittings in our house and tiling with gemstones but why not? We works hard and should enjoy ourselves, innit?
Matter of fact we also does a lot for the environment. I recycle my food by putting my fingers down my throat and also David rides a hybrid motorcycle whenever he can:
Now, some peoples say that I looked like I was "packing plastic" in that photo that came out of me recently. Some other peoples has said I looks like I have fake tits. Also that I looks like a "hideous, cosmetically 'enhanced,' badly-dressed try-hard as usual." But others said I was still "a damn sight more attractive than the rest of the old slags though." I get every press cutting from around the world sent to me and someone said I looked like "prossie spice rather than posh." Someone else said: "you just know that there's nothing perverted behind the pvc and the pout." And someone else said you'd "definitely need lube to do her, and also duct tape, if only to stop her 'singing'."
At that point I has to stop reading but what I will say is this. Me and Dave is very kinky in the sack all right, so there! Also I hasn't had my tits done. I'm a style leader remember, not a follower. And here's an exclusive, Dave likes horsies and likes me to whiny like a horse while he's sticking it to me. So for his birthday I'm gonna get this done: What do you think?
Gotta go now. If you wants to keep in touch, stalk me or go on my ace blog
Who am I? Displaced Londoner now living in the States with my two little girlies and long suffering husband. Co-author of hilarious parenting book Cocktails at Naptime www.cocktailsatnaptime.com
My mom's an Austrian, my dad's a Brit, which makes me a Britaustrian, or possibly an Austrish?