Best Gift Ever

My friend Marla got us one of these for Christmas. We've barely put it down since. Totally addicting.

I had to rush out and buy one for my son, the sports edition, and another for Mia, the zoo edition. My son looked dubious, at best, when he unwrapped it, but I told him, just you wait. You'll be hooked, too.

Really, a very simple concept that is so entertaining, appropriate for every age, and great for keeping kids or adults busy for hours.

Let Them Eat Pork

So we had our family Christmas Sunday with Margaret and Peter, my loveable in-laws, and my son, Dexter.

Inspired by my friend Marla's creative use of her crock pot to make a delicious beef roast, I made pork tenderloin in my crock pot. Two pork tenderloins, because I am Italian and it seems like I never can make a holiday meal without overcooking.

I put the tenderloins in the crock pot with marmalade, soy sauce, garlic cloves and fresh ground pepper, cooked them over 12 hours and they fell apart into wonderful juicy aromatic hunks of flesh.

As a result, we now have enough pork left over for a week of meals. Last night: Pork Fried Rice. Tonight: Instead of beef stroganoff, pork stroganoff. There is really nothing that can't be improved with sour cream, except maybe a Bloody Mary, which is what I am enjoying right now.

Nothing Says "Merry Christmas" Like A Pot Of Chili And A New Tattoo

Wow, does that ever sound white trashy.

Since Christmas falls on a Thursday this year, and Martin is the FNG at his job, he has to work on Friday. He is also on call, and believe it or not, some people are so dedicated that they actually work at home, over the holidays. I never did that, no siree Bob.

I'm making a big pot of chili for Christmas Day. Martin, Mia and I will celebrate in the morning and my friend Marla will be coming over in the late afternoon and we will hang out, eat chili, drink wine, and no doubt talk and laugh a lot. I haven't broken the news to Mia yet that Marla's 18 year old son Tyler isn't coming over. Mia, you see, has a crush on Tyler. That girl of mine, where does she get it from?

Martin got me a gift certificate and set up an appointment for a new tattoo. I've been talking about one for the longest time. I figure that since I no longer am any type of corporate drone, I should do what the hell what I want with my appearance, hence my big ass rock-n-roll hair with all the streaks. I want something small, quarter sized, on the inside of my right wrist. I already have ideas in mind.

That picture is The Brit and me at his boss's Christmas party.

Casey Anthony Case

With two of my Death Hag friends, I will be blogging the Casey Anthony trial. You can find the blog here:

The Trial Of Casey Anthony

I Hate Christmas Music

True confessions of a dark and dangerous mind. I hate Christmas music. I don't really know why. Maybe because it's so twee and jolly? I just dislike it intensely. Loathe. Detest.

Christmas music should be played Christmas Eve, while wrapping presents. It should be traditional Christmas music. Some good examples would be from That Bastard Bing Crosby (go to the directory and look under "C") or Perry Como (also there under "C"). Andy Williams, as well. He's okay. You can also play Christmas music on Christmas Day. Not every day between Thanksgiving and a week after New Year's Day.

It does not include anything by Mariah Carey, the Chipmunks or the songs "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" or "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus". Hello, therapy much? And people wonder why I hate clowns?!?

I am sure the Baby Christ Child would much rather, when he is shopping in Wal-Mart or Target, hear the strains of U2's "Mysterious Ways" on the Muzak, rather than their "Christmas (Baby Come Home)" rendition.

Or, you could just be like me and do your shopping online. You can stick your on headphones, crank up the Mp3 player in and listen to such uplifting Christmas jams like Mc5, who start a song by yelling, "Yo Motherfucker! Kick Out the JAMMMMS!"

Happy holidays, indeed!

The Tragic Case Of Dr. Deborah Iverson

It was a typical busy morning in the Doctors Iverson household on May 16, 1996. Dr. Robert left at 7 a.m. as the babysitter arrived. Dr. Deborah, his wife, a well-respected ophthalmologist and the director of the Eye Institute at Beaumont Hospital, dropped off her oldest son at school at 7:45 and told the babysitter she'd be back by 10, after her psychiatrist's appointment in Birmingham.

Across town in the suburb of Clawson, Anitra Coomer and McConnell Adams, Jr., were faced with a dilemma. The couple, both 21 years old, lived in an apartment with their two year old son. They'd received a notice from the building owner to pay their back rent within seven days or vacate. They owed $480 to their daycare provider. But the bank account was empty.

The idea was to snatch a purse.

Anitra and McConnell dropped off their son at daycare in Madison Heights at 9:30. They made the fifteen minute drive to Birmingham, one of the tonier Detroit suburbs, looking for a victim.

They spotted Dr. Iverson, getting into her $40,000 Land Cruiser, in a parking lot. McConnell used his BB gun, modified to look like a revolver, pushing it into Dr. Iverson's back and putting her into the back seat of the truck, where the child proof locks would prevent her from escaping.

Anitra and McConnell drove Dr. Iverson to two separate Michigan National Bank branches, forcing her to withdraw $1300; one check made out to cash for $1000 and one check for $300, also made out to cash.

At one point, stopping for cigarettes, McConnell addressed Anitra by name.

Eventually, Anitra took over at the wheel and McConnell asked her for the belt on her coat.

Back at the Iverson home, the oldest son's school had called. Why had no one picked him up? The babysitter picked up the boy and then called Dr. Robert. Dr. Robert called Dr. Deborah's cell phone and received no answer. After calling her office and finding out she hadn't been in or heard from, he called the police.

That evening, in a rural area in Macomb county near Stoney Creek Metro Park, a homeowner noticed a Land Rover parked on the side of the road. When it was still there the next day, he went over to take a look.

Inside in the back seat, was a body, face down.

Dr. Deborah Iverson had been strangled with a belt and died clutching a picture of her children. The autopsy indicated that it was likely a struggle had taken place and it was not a quick death.

Her coat and the truck's seats had strange white marks on them. From the bleach Anitra and McConnell had poured on them to disguise evidence.

Dr. Robert Iverson willingly took a polygraph and passed, but suspicious still swirled around him. He put up a large reward for any information.

The unsolved murder dominated the news.

Anitra had upon occasion mentioned to friends that "we did this" when a newscast recapped it. When the story first broke, McConnell turned up the volume to listen, then turned it off when the segment was done.

Apparently, no one they were around when this happened took it seriously. Or at least, not seriously enough to call the authorities, even with a $500,000 reward unclaimed.

In December, Anitra was at a friend's house and called another friend, Mark, to tell him about the latest beating she had received at the hands of McConnell. Mark persuaded her to go to the police. She claimed she had never reported the domestic assaults before because McConnell held the murder over her head.

After the police visited her, Anitra was arrested. McConnell was also arrested, driving a stolen car, for domestic assault.

The two were tried at the same time, before separate juries. They were convicted of first degree premeditated murder, first degree felony murder and kidnapping. They received life terms without parole for the murder and fifteen to sixty years for the kidnapping.

The Kresge Eye Institute at Wayne State University has a Dr. Deborah Iverson endowed lecture series in ophthalmology in her memory.