Today is the last day of school and while I was driving my eight year old through ye olde carpool line it occurred to me that - in the fall, when we return and the parking lot situation has been remedied - the carpool scene might be a tad more tolerable. Then I woke up to the reality that the carpool scene would only be made tolerable through forced euthanasia. Of them. Not me. Or maybe me depending on how close other people’s rudeness drives me to the brink of “let’s just call it a day and end the human race already”.

So there I was; bloodying my head against my steering wheel trying to find a parking spot amidst the moving vehicles from which little yuppie children were being cast by hurried parents because daddy’s Very Important Meeting and mommy’s Appointment With Sven The Personal Trainer trumps The Safety Of One’s Offspring. 

Again with the run-ons.

I finally found a parking spot in a dirt lot roughly thirty miles from the school and was making my way in when I noticed my son’s teacher struggling to get our of her car and into the dirt lot.

My son’s paraplegic teacher. Struggling to assemble her wheelchair. In the unforgiving dirt of a rutted lot twelve parsecs away from civilization. She couldn’t have been further from her classroom if she had parked in Lodi.

So what was she doing here and not, say, parked in her regular spot located closer to the school on easily navigable asphalt? The one equipped with a wheelchair ramp? That is clearly marked with a large blue and white handicapped sign?

It would seem that one of the parents - in their hurry to be as big an asshole as the laws of physics allow - had aced the teacher out of the handicapped spot because she was “in a hurry”. What’s more, the able-bodied parent who parked in the handicapped spot was more than aware of the teacher’s need for that spot because her own child was in said teacher’s classroom.

All of this was made all the more rankling when - in the course of helping my son’s teacher make her way out of the not-at-all-wheelechair-friendly part of the parking lot - said parent returned to her vehicle, smiled cluelessly, and said:

“Hey Mrs. [teacher’s name]! Why didn’t you park here? Isn’t it easier for you to get in from this spot?”

…and that’s when the almighty hand of God himself burst forth from the heavens and bitch slapped the parent and tore her minivan asunder.

Just last weekend I walked out of my local Raley’s to find that my vehicle had been blocked in by someone driving a black Ford SUV. I didn’t think much of it until after I had spent an inordinate amount of time buckling my daughter into her car seat and loading my groceries into the back before jingling my keys in the direction of the offending SUV’s driver to indicate that yes! I am planning on, like, getting in my car and driving away now because that’s what we really good parkers do around here: we steer our vehicles into an available space and then? When we’re done shopping? We return to our vehicles and vacate the space for the next person.

Well, despite the availability of dozens of parking spaces Mr. Ford Driver was having difficulty grasping this simple concept. After several minutes of patiently waiting for him to notice my back-up lights at his passenger-side window he hadn’t budged an inch.

I was a little perturbed but managed to behave in a calm manner as I got out of my vehicle to point at it before making little finger-walking motions out of the space to indicate that yes, I did in fact want to leave now and would he please pick an actual parking spot and like, move?

I thought I had taken care of the problem. Surely one would move if - in the course of idling in the middle of a parking lot they had received indication that their car was blocking another? I jumped back into my car and patted myself on the back. After all, I had behaved with civility and managed to avoid murdering a “special” citizen.

Dude didn’t move.

I began to wonder why this guy hadn’t remained on the short bus where his people usually ride quite happily and in compliance with the vehicle code.

I got back out of the car and lifted my shoulders toward the guy in a slightly annoyed yet still family-friendly WTF? gesture. He responded with a gesture that involved his middle finger and was PG-13 at best. That’s when I noticed the dude was no taller than five-foot six.

I could take him easy.

So I went flying toward his car to have a word. I needed to get home and I was tired of this fop indulging his Little Man’s Complex on my time. Well, apparently the fop wasn’t too keen on consequences because, upon seeing six feet of blonde ferocity coming at him, the coward screeched away with a look of panic that indicated he knew he was about to have his ass kicked by a girl.

…and do you know what I saw? As his vehicle retreated? Several inches-high white lettering on the back window that read:

Lil’ Sophie’s Daycare

(916) 214-9960

Now, let’s forget for a moment that I see this vehicle every day at carpool or that these people’s kids and my kids go to school together or that we’re even neighbors. Let’s forget about the profound lack of class and intense stupidity required to treat people - particularly people in your own ‘hood - the way this guy did and focus, instead, on the fact that this moron took a car that acts as a rolling advertisement for a daycare and then behaved like a petulant brat in front of hundreds of people in a busy shopping center.

Good going Lil’ Sophie’s daddy. Did they teach you those skills in business school?

I have a theory about political bloggers:

99% of all political bloggers are knee-jerk histrionics who have given as much critical consideration to their political ideals as the average person uses to select toilet paper.

As if the first one weren’t enough, I have a second theory about political bloggers:

Most of your Pavlovian political zealots - the ones who salivate at the mere mention of Hillary or Dubya - don’t give a wit about the political ideals that they claim to care so much about. Rather, the blogosphere seems to have attracted the latest generation of drama queens who have masked their need to be the properly outraged center of attention in the guise of being “principled”.

Translation for those of you who don’t speak Stephanese: most political bloggers act like hormonal fourteen-year-old girls on the hunt for something to cry over.

To be sure, there are definitely a few gems out there:

- MW of DWSUWF is dedicated political blogger with whom I disagree on many points but who has - quite admirably in this environment - managed to keep a dispassionate and intelligent blog that is a joy to read.

- Another blogger whose political posting consists mainly of where the political meets the personal is James, who has a set large enough to regularly engage his readers in conversations about topics that make most people do that creepy rocking back-and-forth thing while holding their knees to their chest and sucking their thumb.

- Kevin and Kyle are two fellow Catholics who consistently post through the minefields of politics and faith with respect and class and - if I were them - are justifiably annoyed about now that their track record of taste and virtue has now been marred by an affiliation with this blog.

…and despite the fact that I’m forgetting a couple, my quest for intelligent life in the realm of political blogging has been a frustrating experience indeed.

Just for once I’d like to read a post by a liberal who concedes that an immigration free-for-all is a disastrous idea that encourages the cruel exploitation of people who enter this country without the benefit of being documented workers with requisite rights as human beings.

Similarly, I would do backflips if I could find a conservative who would concede that the human flow from Mexico consists mainly of folks who bust their ass doing jobs that we’ve become too silly and full of ourselves to dirty our hands with and not - as some would have you believe - seething hordes of brown people intent on bankrupting our welfare system.

I’d love to hear a rational and constitutionally sound argument devoid of ad hominem appeal supporting a continued ban on gay marriage.

(That last part was a joke because a constitutionally sound argument supporting a continued ban on gay marriage does not exist.)

I’d like, before I die, to hear my fellow Christians acknowledge the benefits afforded us by secular government.

I would positively faint if I ever heard an atheist admit that the U.S. is hardly a theocracy.

It would be nice if for once a political blogger could form an original thought instead of relying on jackass idealogues like Ann Coulter or Al Franken to do it for them.

On a personal note, I would really appreciate it if in the course of a political discussion people would use logic to argue with me based on the points I’ve made instead of a) throwing up their hands and invoking my home state as evidence that I’m some pinko-commie nutjob or b) using my Central Valley digs as proof that I’m some right wing extremist who’s only a small cache of weapons away from being the next Randy Weaver.

I’d also like for everyone I know in both the real and virtual worlds to conference and decide once and for all whether they’re going to brand me a conservative or a liberal because I’m sick of receiving political e-mail forwards and if there is any way to cut that crap in half I’d be mighty obliged.

I would like to start this post by stating that I have always been more of a “big picture” type of person who rubs my slavishly detail-oriented husband the wrong way. I have big ideas, things to do, I can’t be bothered to balance a checkbook or remember to take my cell phone everywhere.

Sufficed to say, handling money has never been my strong point. I always did “ok” during those years I was on my own; I managed to start a retirement account for myself when I was still in college and by the time I met my husband I had a not-so-bad investment portfolio (especially for a twenty-something single mom). But there was the occasional bounced check and times when I contributed too much of the grocery fund to my son’s college account. So yes, while I could definitely exercise more responsibility and discipline I am hardly a fiscal basket case.

Enter my ex. A little background information is always useful, so here we go:

Financially speaking, my ex is, well, he’s a wallet’s worse nightmare. If the guy has money in his hand it’s as good as spent. Investment, retirement, and even savings accounts give him hives. Crippling debt, on the other hand, does not seem to bother him at all. He works as a security guard (a whole different story for a different day) but has always managed to maintain a wardrobe that would send Imelda Marcos into a dead swoon. He parties like a coked-up Paris Hilton with a buttload of comps in Vegas. He carries more credit cards than an Orange County housewife.

I do not say this to criticize. This is meant simply to describe my ex’s approach to money matters. It has been way too many years for me to really care about his financial habits and for all practical purposes his spending does not impact me at all.

Some more background:My ex has always been at least a month behind in child support payments and usually it is more like two or three. This is fine since my husband and I don’t need the money and never use it anyway. We deposit it all into an college fund for my son so that he can get stoned and surf for porn at lightning fast speeds in his future dorm room.

I thank God I am in a position in which I do not depend upon child support. My son and I would starve.

I have never discussed these late payments with my ex. I discovered that a) my ex got way too much satisfaction out of thinking he was irritating me and b) I discovered it was by far better (and more fun) to let the DA manhandle him. When a parent is consistently late with payments there are penalties assessed. Frequently I will receive one check in the amount of the support and another check for an odd amount like $3.72 or something like that. Also, if a parent falls too far behind, the DA will garnish up to 50% of their paycheck to bring them current. Delinquent payments also result in negative credit reporting (more on that later).

This has my ex in an absolute tizzy. Apparently to “catch him up” the DA deducted the maximum allowable from my ex’s paycheck. Then they promised to do the same next month and the month after until my ex is no longer in arrears. As if to add insult to injury the DA has also dinged his credit up something awful due to the consistently late manner with which my ex pays his child support.

(I feel it only fair to mention here that it’s not like I sought some debilitating amount of support. I polled some of my male friends who pay support and have an income similar to my ex’s and discovered my ex pays about 25% of what they do. I even initiated a reduction after he reported that the original amount was a hardship.)

To combat this, my ex has been calling my husband and I and bitching like a PMS’ing sorority girl. First he asked me to “call off the dogs”. I explained to him that I had done nothing to initiate this garnishment process (which is true) and were powerless to prevent the DA from collecting since there was a court order on file to do so. He then contacted the DA himself and got nowhere.The second tactic my ex employed was to have me contact the DA. Which I did because he is my kid’s dad and I want to play nice. I got nowhere with them.

It has been over a month and the DA has now taken a second huge chunk of change from my ex, which has made him positively apoplectic. He called my husband yesterday to bitch that this financial hit was ruining his vacation plans.

“I applied for a credit card to pay for my vacation and found out it got denied because the DA had put some negative stuff on my credit report!” he wailed over the phone. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

(Don’t even get me started on everything that is financially and criminally stupid about that statement.)

“I dunno,” replied my husband. “Maybe try calling the DA again to find out how much you owe then pay it. Maybe they’ll take it off your credit report.”

“But Steph said that everything was fine when I asked her if I was late or not!” My ex was becoming more and more engraged.

(This is true. Early on my ex had asked me if he was late on payments and I told him that I thought everything was on the up and up. I don’t pay attention to the frequency of child support checks. I just deposit them into my son’s account when they arrive.)

“Steph probably isn’t the best person to ask about this stuff.” My husband patiently replied. “I am more familiar with our finances than she is.”

…and now for the money shot. I give you my ex’s response. You probably won’t even think it’s that big a deal:

“Yeah. She never really was good with money.”