SPRINT HATES HISPANICS

Yesterday, I called Sprint Crap-tomer service and got Greg, employee 138501 in West Virginia. As I was speaking to him, I said something to Nick in Spanish.

This fucking Greg character stated:

"I don't care if you speak Spanish. Actually, I don't care for Spanish people at all and you should go back to the country you came from. And you know what else?" and hung up the line.

Maybe Sprint shouldn't have employees that are racially discriminative towards clients-clients whose payments fund employee paychecks.

Or maybe, Hispanic clientele should be made aware that Sprint doesn't care for Spanish speaking customers and has their frontlines recommending clients go back to 'their' countries. If you don't want my money, I'm happy to give it to someone else.

I'll lose some "friends" after this post, but I'll never understand why ANGLOS forget that this is NOT their country. Maybe I'm a retard but I assume history books are the same throughout this country and I read that when the Anglos stole this country from the Indians, they killed, raped and pilfered!

BTW GREG of West Virginia, I was born in this country and when my parents arrived, they didn't kill or rape anyone. Actually, they paid a monetary fee. Can you say the same about your forefathers?

Stupid racist.

Oh yeah, let's see if I receive a response as I've emailed every name on the Sprint website with reference to this gross discrimination and racial slurs. Maybe someone at Sprint will care about the Hispanic dollars they take in!



Here are all the email addresses where my message was sent. Let's see who responds. I'll update this later and I'll also be posting on the blogspot blog!



media.information@mindshareworld.com; executive.offices@sprint.com; jgordon@vidalpartnership.com; jackie.a.bostick@sprint.com; matthew.sullivan@sprint.com; james.w.fisher@sprint.com; lisa.m.zimmerman@sprint.com; john.b.taylor@sprint.com; scott.sloat@sprint.com; stephanie.greenwood@sprint.com; amy.k.schiska@sprint.com; michelle.leff@sprint.com; Mark.j.elliott@sprint.com; richard.pesce@sprint.com; jack.pflanz@sprint.com; laura.porter@sprint.com; Nanci.P.Schwartz@sprint.com; Roxie.Ramirez@sprint.com; miles.x.mcmillin@sprint.com; candace.johnson@sprint.com; caroline.semerdjian@sprint.com; kathleen.dunleavy@sprint.com; joseph.m.mandacina@sprint.com; investor.relations@sprint.com

Bulletproof backpack. Wait, 'bulletproof' what?

A West Palm Beach radio station purchased one of the backpacks and decided to put it to the test. They took the backpack to a gun range, strapped it to a stand and enlisted experienced gunman John Patrick to fire the shots.

Standing about 15 feet away, Patrick first fired a nine-millimeter handgun, then a 45-millimeter and finally a 38-millimeter was fired at the backpack.

After the backpack was checked for holes on the outside and penetration on the inside, it was determined that the backpack held up very well and did better than expected.

A backpack? A bulletproof backpack? My Jansport never did that and you know what? I'm glad it didn't have to.

It's a sad day when gun safety is so mainstream that kids have to don backpacks that can double as a bulletproof vest. I really wish my son didn't have issues of this sort to deal with in his future...for my sake as well as his.

You made them! PAY your own child support!!!

UP FOR BID IS MY FINANCIAL OBLIGATION TO MY EX-WIFE.

THIS AUCTION IS FOR MY CHILD SUPPORT ARREARS AS ASSIGNED BY ORDER OF THE

FAMILY COURT IN MARTINEZ, CALIFORNIA


This excerpt taken from an Ebay auction!

The guy goes on to talk about how he drove for thousands of miles for years on end to visit his kids on the weekends. Blah Blah Blah. Sure it makes it look as you're a stand-up guy if you try to see them but kids don't live off of attention alone. Love may not a cost a thing but life does! $$$ is what pays for food, clothing, gas, electricity. And by the way daddy dearest, your case is state run. That means the state decided how much you were supposed to pay based on your income and reviewed it periodically.

It's hard to read this guy's crap and try to identify with him.

It's hard because Nick's dad is so far behind on his child support AND he never sees him. Once a year he'll give me some shpeal about how he never has any money yet he bought a house, a second car, a motorcycle, a dog, a ski trip, a DUI, a possession of Marijuana charge, lawyers to get out of 'em all...I could go on (but I have work to do).
It's hard to read this guy's crap and be on the other end: the end that does fund EVERYTHING, cleans everything, the I can't even take a shit without coming out of the bathroom and finding some craziness end.

And oh POO, there are those that say "It's your child."

No shit sherlock but I didn't make Nick on my own!

But like I said...'hard'...

Now that the kids are grown and can recognize that their father, however well intended he may think he was, can't provide, AND if their mother is making that much, why not close out the case?

I sometimes feel like closing out my case. The douchebag never pays his support. He never sees his son- he doesn't even call to see if he's alive! BUT everyone tells me 'it's for Nicolas...'

You guys have it all wrong. I work for Nicolas. I breathe for Nicolas. I have that dumb ass court case because his father is a douchebag.

I suppose it goes much deeper than just finances as I can speak volumes of the disappointment and anger one parent has for another when they are forced to use the court system to fend for their child....

I truly believe that there is someone out there that can help me with this and I promise to you all that I WILL help someone in the future with this same issue just as I have been helped by you.

Help someone with this issue??? Dude, you must have smoked your shit!

Instead of talking jargon about others in the future, Help your self or your kids NOW and pay your shit!

It's no suprise there no bids...

Chinese Corner Cutting Hits Home

Every day I turn on the news and hear the same shit 'blah, blah, blah...made in china recall...blah, blah, blah...'

Nick even had a few toys from recent recall lists so I should be more concerned but I'll admit that it is wearisome to question every product's safety...

At least it was until this morning.

This morning began like any other day.

I overslept. Nick refused to stop watching cartoons. One of the cats took a ginormously stinky crap in the litter box.

Like I said, normal day.

But it could have been the worst day, ever...

As I put on my take Nick to school uniform: jeans, a tee, a Gators cap to hide my morning hair and some chancks, Nick
tended to his pearly whites. He loves to brush his teeth.

He also loves Thomas the Train.

So naturally, last month when Nick and I saw the Thomas the Train mechanical toothbrush at Target,
he screamed to high hell until I put it in the cart
we had to get it!


This morning, he comes in quietly.

Mira lo que paso mami

He then hands me the toothbrush with one hand and the brush head and a hair-thin metal pin with the other.


Gracias. Estas bien?

(as I inspect the toothbrush to make sure he's handed me all the pieces)

I don't know how it happened because I didn't see it. All I know is that it came apart IN his mouth and he spit it out the pieces.

When I think of what could've happened...

WTF?

No really,

WHAT THE FUCK?

See those two pieces? Those TWO CHOKING HAZZARDS?



I'm not being over-dramatic.

Fuck choking.

Fuck freak out.

He could have died...

I flipped the toothbrush over:


Made in China.


****UPDATE****

So I wrote to the Consumer Products Safety Commission and received a response. it's your standard issue cookie cutter response with an abundance of copy machine fuzz but they are requesting additional information.

blah, blah, blah ".....If your complaint is among those selected, A Cpsc field investigator will contact you within 30 days from the day you receive this letter."

Let's see what happens.

Father arrested after son brings home bad grades..

When I was a kid, I received money for As and Bs. Anything less was automatic grounding. The groundings were less than 5 in number as a whole but maybe if my parents would have taken advice from this guy I would’ve been a valedictorian!


Coral Gables police arrested and charged the father of an 8 year-old little boy with aggravated child abuse after the school called officials.

According to school officials, the 8 year-old went to the nurse complaining that it hurt to sit. Upon examining him, they discovered bruises on his buttocks and upper thighs. When questioned, the little boy admitted his father had hit him with a belt.

When the Department of Children and Families questioned the 30 year-old father, he admitted he had hit his son with a belt. He hit him as punishment for bad grades.

...

A judge released Loscar Rodriguez on pre-trial release because the judge felt the man was just disciplining his child.

The judge citing that Rodriguez had not hit his son with “the buckle or a baseball bat which cause injury,” also stated “a belt is supposed to leave a mark.”

Apparently BRUISES are not the types of ‘marks’ left on someone ‘injured.’

30 year-old Rodriguez, a bartender at Oxygen nightclub in the Grove, cannot have any contact with his son until further notice.

Well that’s good because according to the judge “spanking never hurt anyone.” Or at least that’s what he thinks Rodriguez did: spank.

As a parent, I’m all for spanking a child. In my eyes, it really just boils down to association. If you’re not going to listen, then you’re going to get spanked. Sooner or later, like Pavlov’s dogs, the child will learn to listen even if he does so simply to avoid being spanked.

And to spank him over grades?

How bad were they?

Aren't we only two months into the school year?

8 years old. That's the 3rd grade, no?

To his credit, at least it was for something positive. I think his actions, while well intended, clearly went over the line.

That said, as a child that was disciplined, I don’t think I was abused. The difference between when I was disciplined and what this guy did is as simple as black and white, well black and blue anyway. My parents never hit me so hard that they hurt me left bruises!

damned semantics...

All joking aside, there's a really fine line here and I could potentially argue either side.

Where's the mom?

Are you my daddy?

There’s this guy: the Paul Mitchell guy. Well, Paul Mitchell I guess. Duh!!
I swear he is related to Tom Selleck. Am I the only one who sees the family resemblance?


Every time I’m at a salon or browsing through a magazine and come across an image of Paul Mitchell, I always have the same thought.

Someone please give these two a DNA test!

The resemblance is uncanny.

These two could be brothers. Father and unknown child? They both have that same elongated face; the same light eyes; the same bone structure; the same facial hair patterns and hello- look at those noses! Heck, they even have the same receding hairline!


Um yeah, Paul Mitchell is the one with the monkey on his back... haha

'Because si mami.'

I should know better.

He's added talcum powder, vapor rub, food, toys, writing utensils, you name it to the fish tank.

Nick swears the fish speak to him.

I didn't do any drugs while I was pregnant kid, so knock it off!

Anyway, I should have known better than to buy a $12 fish. Ah, the sunkissed, red nosed angel (not species just a description of what it looked like), he/she was a beaut...and lasted all of 12 hours in the tank.

When I went to feed the fish this morning, no angel.

Damn that motherfu**ing limpiador! He's supposed to eat sh*t not fish!

(Enter Nick stage left)

"Que haces?"

"Buscando el angelito"

"Esta ahi"

I turn my head and look at him.

"Adonde?"

"Ahi" (as he points to his toy box)

{Here's where the super sleuth, CSI mom eye comes in}

I scan the room and notice the chair out of place. It's almost where it should be but not quite. What's that? A couple of, what look like, water drops on the arm of the chair. A red Elefun net on the floor. Upon further observation (I touched it), I notice the net is wet.

Son of a bi*ch this kid!

"You took him out? Why did you do that?

(I love how my angry language is English lol)

"but, because si mami."

My grandmother always said 'Hija eres y madre seras. Lo que tu le hicistes, ellos te haran."
Translation: Get ready honey 'cuz payback's a bi*ch!

I paid $1 for every hour I owned that fish...

Lesson learned: No more $12 fish. BONUS: Add a second lock to the tank!

"Mami, mi pito esta duro."

With the advent of "learning Nick," I'm assured to be faced with a cornucopia of random questions and unfamiliar situations however I didn't expect this bomb.

This morning, as I rubbed my eyes in unlit surroundings, I was greeted by Nick who was holding open his underoos, staring in and requesting that I do the same.

"Mira lo que paso. Mami, mi pito esta duro. Porque?" (with a tilted headed, questioning glance and wispy hair covering his eyes)

Holding back what would wave been a fabulous bout of laughter I replied "Es normal. You just need to take a shower."

"Estoy sucio?"

(Fighting back additional laughter) "No. No. Pero vamos a banarte."

And off he went.

Here's the funny in parenting right? But alas, not having a penis of my own, I am unfamiliar with the circumstances and was truly not prepared for this question.
What the hell?
He is 3, almost 4, going on 30 sometimes- are penis questions supposed to be coming this early?

And how am I supposed to keep a straight face for that?

And on the 7th day, God said: "Let there be Nick!"

And so it begins....

Stolen (and edited) from one of my social networking site blogs...

-written August 2005

Parenthood is not what I thought it would be. Not by a long shot. Holding 4 pregnancy tests, all positive, I felt like some crazy, pee test-stick raver.

On the day my pregnancy was confirmed, I cried. I cried for three days straight. I thought my life was over. I remembered the thoughts that ran through my head every time I met a young parent: I used to think "...better her/him than me". I couldn't remember to lock the door sometimes; how was I going to be able to raise a child? Then a wise friend reminded me that children are gifts from God (thank you Don Migless). God blessed me with life. So for the remaining 8 months of my pregnancy, I poured myself into every book, leaflet, pamphlet and website about motherhood, parenting and child rearing; did the Lamaze class thing with a pal (see wise friend above)and impatiently awaited the "big" day.

That was the slowest/HOTTEST summer of my life. Finally, the big day came. With no breakage of water, no madness and no pain, "labor" was not what I had seen or read about, especially since I was induced. I felt nothing, no matter how strong my contractions were or how many doses of pitocin they pumped into me; heck, I even took a couple of naps. Something wasn't right so the doc suggested an emergency c-section. A mortifyingly-horrific-pubic-hair-shave by a nurse and a two-handed-hospital-gown-butt-area-grab-waddle-walk later, my 172lb human cocoon was on a freezing metal table. "This might hurt a little but we need to numb you for the spinal block" ...silence...I mean really. What did he expect me to say? Had I opened my mouth, I might have said "Guy. You're holding a needle. So you can stick me with an even bigger needle. So your pal who has just made me go through the most uncomfortable experience EVER with that cervical dilation exam can cut my abdomen open from end to end. Be a little sensitive man - I'm taking a shit here!"
But no, just silence.
And actually, the shot for the numbing agent didn't really hurt. Thankfully it worked, 'cuz neither did the spinal block needle. All I felt was pressure, as if someone was pushing me, but no actual sensation. "Can you feel this?" the druggie doc asked.

"Feel what?"

"You're ready"

Cue lights, camera, action! With, I shit you not, Madonna's 'True Blue' playing in the background, in comes Dr. Sirven. A quick "ready?" "No" "Okay then. let's do this." And honestly, not a moment too soon. Dr. Sirven really did save a life on August 7th, 2003. He saved the Nikkus Mikkus. Nicolas had gotten trapped in the cord (my grandmother attributed it to a frivolous 3-D ultrasound I got...whatever, call me Tomkat, I was curious) and was actually resuscitated immediately after birth. Those first few moments without hearing his cry were terrifying. See, during labor, whales pregnant women are fitted with an audible heart rate monitor for the baby. Nobody warned me. Are you listening here? NOBODY WARNED ME!
After Dr. Sirven cut Nick out, the monitor, UNDERSTANDABLY (to anyone not blocked by a big blue roof TARP and freaking out) was a flatline.
A loud.
long.
v.e.r.y.l.o.n.g.

flatlineeeeeeeeeeeeeee
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Honestly, it was the scariest shit ever. So scary I shouted "Can one of you people please say something. Is he alright?"
"He looks just like you," shouted Don Migless followed by the most beautiful sound, EVER: Nick announcing his arrival, loudly.

Then, a nurse placed a wrinkly, itty bitty, purplish Nicolas, with vaseline in his eyes, on my chest. There it was, the moment I had been anxiously awaiting, pining away for and even with my vocabulary, all I could say was "Hi"(as Don Migless chuckled behind us).

Well, that and "I think I'm going to puke" to the anesthesiologist as they returned my intestines to my body and stapled my gut closed.
In hindsight, the perfect song was playing in the background when my little man made his grand entrance...

No more sadness, I kiss it good-bye
The SON is bursting right out of the sky
I searched the whole world for someone like you
Don't you know, don't you know that it's
True love, oh baby, true love, oh baby
True love, it's true love baby!

Incidentally, the morphine was all hype! Made me itchy. It was trippy to try moving my legs to no avail...and yes, I did attempt to bribe the nurse to come home with me.
Yes, there was no sleep. Yes, the guy peed on me everywhere. Yes, the SHIT was absolutley horrid. Man. This kid was attached to one side of my chest every hour and a half. Where the hell was all that crap coming from?
Anyway, no, it wasn't-isn't hard. And what the heck were people talking about? What's so hard about this? This single parenthood thing ROCKED!!! Why are people so scared of parenthood?

He was perfect and he could make me smile and laugh more than any silly movie/show/joke/book/stupid political cartoon/idiot tripping over himself video/drug-he still does. So we're back to where the blog started. Parenthood is not what I thought.
Yes, I don't need an alarm anymore and no, there are no more post-Patio parties at my house on Sundays. However, there is a train set in my living room.

There are lego's everywhere and my cell phone recently participated in an impromptu "learn to swim" program offered by my son in my toilet. His laugh leaves me speechless. I wish the world for him. I hope he can see all the beautiful worldly sites I have seen along with some I want to see. I hope he can see breathtaking sunrises and tranquil sunsets. I hope he gets soaked while running in rain. I hope he scores a goal in the last minute of the second half of a play-off game (think black and white ball). I hope he never has to question anyone's love-least of all mine. Parenthood is bliss and I can't believe I wasted those first three days crying...what an idiot.
On the flip side, it's scary knowing you are responsible for another human's everything but I'd gladly retrace my steps without a second thought. The ends CLEARLY justified the means.
Single parenthood is not something I would wish on anyone though and not because of the supposed sacrifices parents are supposed to make (I have yet to need to make any). I think of the things my son will miss out on because the "sperm donor" has no role. And it's always at that moment that I realize Nick deserves much better. MUCH better. But I'm not worried. It's these same emotions that make me confident. I know I'll end up raising a good boy...man. A man who will be loving, honest, responsible, and an excellent father; the kind of man that moms are proud of and kids want to emulate.
So a word to the wise: if the Lord blesses you with "LIFE," don't turn your back on the gift. Children are not responsible for the proverbial sins of the father/mother and should not suffer the consequences of their "collective actions." Be grateful for this truly is living. Raise a child that will be proud of you one day-that's my goal.