Why I get Bullied on Pink Tshirt Day

This is not my typical light commentary.  But then again, this not a typical day ...

Imagine for a moment that where you work the building has poisonous snakes roaming free.  Not hundreds...just enough to make you aware that at any moment you could be bitten.  This is just part of your work enviroment and you accept it as such.  Now imagine that the bosses answer to this problem is having vials of anti-venom in each office.  So this way, if you are bitten you can just get an injection and you won't die. 

Put a bandaid on it and go about your day.  The problem is solved.  

This is how our schools are handling bullies.  After a student is bullied, they get a little pep talk.  Discuss why it happened and offer counselling and some coping strategies.  

Put a bandaid on it and go about your day.  The problem is solved.  

Instead of removing the source of poison, we teach the kids that there is something wrong with them.  How do you explain to a child that is struggling with this issue that THEY need to seek help?  Why not eliminate the problem?  Seriously, we all know the ones that are causing the problems. I'm not talking about the ones who say they didn't like someone's shoes one day.  I'm talking about the ones who day after day, relentlessly harass other students about everything they possibly can. The word 'bully' is being over used.  But I think if a person is being affected to a point where it changes who they and how they live then yes, they are being bullied.  Don't say, "I agree this shouldn't have happened, and yes it is terrible.  How can you avoid this in the future?"

  I shit you not when I say I've actually heard a teacher/administrator say, " what did you do to make them act this way?"

Don't put a bandaid on it and walk away. Underneath the bandaid are the teeth marks of the snake.  Inside the heart of that student is the fear that around the next corner is another snake waiting to strike.  You can't expect someone who has been attacked by a snake to pick one up and try to understand it.  To accept it.  Everything that happened to us is a learning experience.  What are we teaching our children?

Now once a year let's dress those snakes in pretty pink shirts. (The visual is amusing). Let's tell the kids that the snakes are really just like us and attack out of fear.  Now let's watch the snakes who are hiding in their pink shirts still bite.  The shirt doesn't make a difference.  Yes, I get that its symbolic and blah blah blah...

But how about we actually do something?  Tonight on the news and in the papers we will see our public officials and school boards in their mandatory pink attire.  That's awesome.... What about tomorrow when a child is mocked for not wearing the right brand of jacket or some other bullshit reason?  Don't preach empathy from behind a shirt.  Live it, model it, and enforce it.  

Tomorrow we go back to anti venom and band aids. Then we sit back and wonder why it isn't working.  Eventually your body builds up and immunity to the anti venom and the poison courses through your veins.  Only then do we all get in an uproar that another child has succumbed to the poison.  The snake has won...does it care?   No.  It moves on to its next victim never running out of poison.  

I wish I could be more articulate in conveying my opinion, but the words escape me. 

Two easy words sum it up.  

Be nice.  

School Dress Codes (Stupid and Necessary)

With the first warm days of spring comes the most exhausting and ridiculous debate of the season...

School Dress Codes.

I can appreciate the need for dress codes since I've seen far too many girls walk around with their asses hanging out of the back of their shorts.  

I'm not talking short shorts... I'm talking 'holy crap I can see her ovaries' short shorts.  

I don't care what size you are, if there is ass cheek dangling underneath the hem of your shorts, they have just become an extra large belt... Not shorts.  So what is an acceptable length you ask?  Hell if I know!   My daughters school goes by the rule of fingertip.  The shorts need to go to the tips of your fingertips if you keep your hands straight by your sides.  I'm not sure who decided this was a good measure because it's somewhat random.  She has a friend who is shorter than her yet has longer arms, this poor girl would be forced to wear Bermudas she's had to borrow from her father to be wearing what is deemed appropriate.  I have short arms and would be wearing something very different.  You see the problem here?  Until we dictate and control not only how they dress, but how long their arms are, this rule is somewhat vague.  I think a standard three inch inseam for everyone would be good.  However, I'm not sure who they would convince to stand at the door of her high school with a tape measure and be on "Crotch Control".  I'm quite certain that there would be no volunteers from the staff willing to measure inseams all day... 

And if there is, fire their ass ASAP!!  

On the flip side of this, if the girls shorts can't be cut too high, then the boys pants need to be pulled the frick up!  Dangling ass cheeks are just as nasty and seeing a boy with his pants so low they aren't even on his ass.  I'm talking about the idiot who wears them just below his butt. Seriously?  These so called pants just became a one piece leg warmer type garment.  If the crotch of the pants is at the knees, they are no longer pants...they are just stupid.  If a guy sits down at a desk and the only thing separating him from the wooden seat is a thin layer of cotton with an American Eagle waist band, then he needs to pull his pants up.  

Underwear is meant to be UNDER.  It's right there in the damn name!!!!!

Now let's move on to the dreaded bra strap issue.  I for one, have no issue with seeing straps.  Just be grateful the girls are even wearing bras in the first place.  (Although I've never been a fan of the whole, tube top with bra straps ensemble.  Strapless bra... Buy one.)

However, if a girl is wearing a tank and you can see her straps I don't really see the issue.  They're straps. No one has ever died or gone clinically insane from seeing them.  If I hear the argument one more time that this is distracting to the boys however, I may go insane.  It's a high school...if you think that seeing bra straps is distracting to the boys and just makes them think of sex I have a news flash for you...

They were already thinking about sex.  

You know how I know this?  They are teenage boys and they are awake.  

Actually that's not fair... They also think about sex while they are sleeping, so let's not blame the straps.  

Again, as long as the shirt covers a girls stomach (this includes when she puts her hands up) and there isn't four inches of cleavage spilling out of the top, I'm fine. I know the boobies are new, and like a kid with a new bike, they want to show them off, however, no one wants to see them.  Ok, the boys want to see them, but they are teenage boys and aren't that bright once cleavage enters the room.  For that matter this rule applies to most grown men so I won't just pick on the teens.  Basic rule, just cover you boobs.  Done.  

There are also the new yoga type tops that have a bandeau underneath and draping arm holes.  The problem with these is that an inch of rib cage is exposed.  

Oh no....rib cage.  Shocking... 

So what is the answer to this issue?  School uniforms?  I say fine!  Issue uniforms and end this debate, but then we get in to the whole problem of people who can't afford uniforms and kids not being able to express their indviduality.  Ugh... Teenagers expressing themselves is a slippery slope.  I choose to not even try and debate that.  

Here it is...

Cover your boobs

Cover your belly

Pull up your damn pants

No ass cheeks please

Done...

Except for Halloween.  That's when dressing like a total whore is not only acceptable, it is pretty much the norm.  

Just for the record, I'm pretty sure these would not be allowed at school.  Although let's appreciate the fact that this skank chose to actually wear underwear...

Slurpee Problems

Ok.... It's a million degrees out and I am tired, hot and cranky.  Actually, at any given moment I am guaranteed to be at least two of these things, but whatever.  I spent the afternoon in a stifling hot fifth wheel trying to get it cleaned and ready for camping.  Ugh... The only thing worse is having to unpack the thing when we get back from camping.  Anyway, it's super hot and I am NOT enjoying myself.  I get that finished and can finally get to my usual daily errands.  One my least favourite is going to Walmart.  Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against the store itself, and the people there are always entertaining (customers and staff), its just that the level of stupidity sometimes reaches toxic levels and I am forced to go completely bat crap crazy right there in aisle two beside a disturbingly large box of Honeycombs.   Surprisingly, however, today it wasn't the Walmart stop that caused my "idiot slapping hand" to twitch it was the next stop... at the 7-11.

Now here is a store I love!  Junk food, coffee, crap magazines, condoms, antacids, unknown meat deep fried several different ways and of course my favourite... The Slurpee.  

Ah Slurpee, how do I love thee?!? This magical delight has been making me happy and considerably fatter since I first discovered them in 1984.  

I pull in to the parking lot and see a rogue vehicle just parked in the middle.  

Nothing around it.

Just there...inexplicably in the middle of the freaking lot.  Why? Who the hell knows.   Maybe it was an emergency Slurpee situation and they had to get to the machine STAT.  Whatever.

I then go inside and find a woman standing in front of the machines bobbing back and forth as if she's making a 'Sophie's Choice' type decision.  Omg...

That's when it gets worse.  She takes a small cup and puts a small amount of Pepsi Slurpee in it and looks at it.  

Do you understand what I'm saying here?!?!?  LOOKS AT IT!!!!

Ok, by now you can actually hear my eyes rolling.  Then she really causes me serious internal pain and tastes it.  

TASTES IT!!  

It's Pepsi you idiot!!  The same damn Pepsi it's been since Jesus was a boy. 

You know what it tastes like?!?  It tastes like fricken PEPSI!!!  

I have to get in line at the till to pay for my Slurpee behind this jackass.  She then starts rummaging through the bottom of her purse like its a newly found black hole that NASA has asked her to investigate.  After she pays I watch her go out to her car...

Yes, the car parked in the middle of the lot.   Seriously.  I think she had brain freeze before she took her first sip.  

Here's the drill people,

Walk up to the machine

Select a cup

Fill cup

Walk the hell away.

It's not hard.  

I want to be like Soup Nazi from Seinfeld.   

"NO SLURPEE FOR YOU"

Granny Vans

I have noticed a disturbing trend lately. There seems to be a growing number of senior citizens driving mini vans. Why? I need to know!
What are these people doing that they need a vehicle that can carry seven people at a time? Are they planning a group attack somewhere? Are they driving around breaking their friends out of their houses late at night to drive around and vandalize playgrounds? What is the plan?!?!
Why the vans? Usually there is only one person in the van, sometimes two. Today I saw three men in one. Ok... I KNOW they are NOT going to Walmart to do their shopping. Tag team grocery shopping? I think not.
I think that since most minivans have the cute little sticker family on the rear window, the seniors should have to do this as well. Them, their four kids, fifteen grandchildren, five great children and various cats, dogs and other pets as well. So by now there is no clear space in the window making the rear view mirror completely useless. Although in their defence, I'm not sure most them are used anyway.

Nine time out of ten if I am cut of in traffic or behind some jackass going 20km/hr, it's a senior.  You can gripe about the teen drivers all you want.  The seniors are worse.  

Now, one of my best friends would be saying, " awww, be nice. What if it was you dad driving in front of you?"   My response?  

"I'd jump out of my car, walk along side his slow moving vehicle, reach in and grab license from his wallet."

Seriously?!?  If you can't follow the rules, don't play the game.  That is why the granny van syndrome is somewhat concerning.  I have a feeling they have heard my road rage through my blaring music and are planning an attack.  

So if I go missing, check the granny vans.  They will likely have me tied up and sedated with Ambien in the back seat.  

Daily Positive Affirmations (and the negative impact they have on my life)

It has recently been brought to my attention, that Sarcazma has been slacking lately. So thank you for the push... I needed it! It was also a very brave thing to do since we all know I can sometimes walk on the scary side of "crazy-bitch land".

After I finished college, I moved back home for what was supposed to be two months. I actually moved out two YEARS later, which is a painful story for another time. I am far too sober to relive the joy of living with my parents as an adult at this moment.
Anyway, I moved back home while I finished my practicum. At this time, my dad was knee deep in a new thing that he was introduced to at work. His head office down east, decided it would be a good idea that the staff listened to positive affirmations in the morning as they got ready for work.
You know where I'm going with this.

This was before the glorious invention of earbuds. So I was exposed to this over the top happy bullshit every damn morning!!! Now, believe it or not, I am NOT much of a morning person. Don't get me wrong, mornings are beautiful.
Sun coming up, sky getting lighter, birds singing and all that shit.
It's just that I think it all happens far to early in the day. I myself prefer sunset. It's the same thing as sunrise, just in reverse.
Sun going down, sky getting dark, birds shutting the hell up... It's glorious.
So as I get ready for my practicum ( which is a fancy way of saying " doing the worst part of the job for no money"), I am forced to listen to what I referred to as someone who has taken way too many uppers and consumed a toxic amount of sugar, blow sunshine up my ass.
I was 20 years old at the time, and lets face it, in a perpetual hangover. So listening to this dude EVERY morning did not make me feel positive. It did the opposite.

Look in the mirror and say 3 positive things I'm going to do today?? Here they are smart ass...

1. I will make a snarky comment to the ass hat taking 20 minutes to fill his car with gas and wash his already clean windshield. I will then also, as a bonus, make fun of the fact that he referred to his car as a "Lincoln". I know it's a Lincoln... I also know you are bald. Don't care. It's a car idiot. It doesn't require a name. Move along...

2. I will find the dark side to a dark situation. I will not make lemonade out of lemons. Lemonade gives me cankers. Unless we are adding vodka to the lemonade, shut up. I will not make a bad thing good by thinking positive. Sometimes bad stuff happens. Deal with it.

3. When someone says, " have a nice day!" I will be forced to respond with my usual, " Don't tell me what kind of day to have. Man, you are bossy."

I do realize I respond like a spoiled three year old. I'm not sure why, but I feel compelled to do the exact opposite of what I am told. Especially by some moron on a cassette tape yowling at me from across the hall at 7:00 am. I'm fairly certain other people feel,this way too. Perhaps there is an untapped market for Demotivational Speakers. I can make my own little series for people to listen to in the morning.

TAPE ONE - Yes, You Cut Your Ankle Shaving This Morning And You Are On Day 2 Of Your Period, But You Will Also Get Caught In Traffic This Morning. Enjoy .
TAPE TWO - Today Is Going To Suck, I'm Not Gonna Lie To You.

Etc, etc, etc...
Anyway, that is my thought for this morning, not so much sarcasm as it is pessimism. But whatever.
Have a nice day!

The Wonders of Modern Medicine

We have cameras that can see to the bottom of the ocean.
We can see the tiniest of microbes.
We can see blood vessels and nerves so clearly that a surgeon can reattach them.
We have a camera that can take pictures on Mars. MARS!!! The planet... Not the chocolate bar.

You know what we don't have? The ability to see two inches into my body just under my belly button to see my freakin' girlie parts. Where exactly is my uterus that it is so hard to find? Is there a lead curtain in front of it? Is there an army protecting it? What is this mystical method of protection that renders modern medicine useless?!?

It is apparently my bladder.
Seriously? Bladder?
With the wonders of modern technology, the only was to get a decent picture of this elusive organ, is to fill my bladder up to a point where I want to weep. Why does it need to be so full that I would actually rather just pee myself in the waiting room without giving it a second thought than try and last another minute in this agony?!?

I'm going to just mention quickly that having a uterus and not planning on using it for reproduction, is like owning an apartment and never renting it. Just have it there... Doing nothing but causing grief. Vandals break in and trash the place. It costs you money and and maintenance and then bleeds you dry. (Pun intended)

Seriously, they need to remove this thing along with the birth of you last child.

Anyway, just when you think you can a actually hear you bladder ripping at the seams, they call you in. Yay! You get to lay down which somehow makes it easier... But not for long.
Now you get to endure at least ten minutes of someone pushing what looks like a whacked out hot wheels car over your body. Not your entire body... Just on top of your stretched out bladder. Because this seems like a good idea.
Fill it up, and then poke it for awhile. Awesome.
I've actually had the tech tell me my bladder was too full and I could go and pee "a little". Now you would think I'd be happy, but no. I'm kind of a believer in the whole 'All or Nothing' school of thought. Seriously? A little? Whatever....
So it is finally over and they tech says I can leave and go.... ( not sure what the end of that sentence is because by then I have usually knocked them over into a garbage can on my way to the nearest bathroom.)

It is over; I have survived. Then I hear, "have you ever had an internal ultrasound?"
My blood goes cold and I fall to floor weeping. If you've had one done, you know where I'm going with this. If you haven't, I'll save that little surprise for you to find out on your own.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go pee for the eightieth time today.

Hacked Again!!!!!

Seriously?!?! This is the last time I will be changing my email address and using Yahoo. If I get hacked again, I will be taking my email business elsewhere! What is so attractive about my email? It is just the usual generic crap. No government secrets or photos of crashed UFO's.
Just boring sales from Pottery Barn, eBay updates, blah blah blah...
So as I frantically try and change everything over before deleting the compromised account, emails are flying out at lightning speed! I especially love the weight loss ads being sent to my seriously skinny 16 year old and the hair loss and male enhancement ads being sent to my kids school trustee. Awesome!!
By the time I manage to create a new address and change everything over, the hacker has managed to send crap to everyone in my contacts. Who has time for this? Is someone out there seriously spending time trying to get into my email so they can spam my friends? Omg! That is so sad! I'm not that interesting! Trust me.

So in the mean time, if you get a message from me offering time share deals, weight loss plans, or 5 easy tips for a better sex life.... Just delete.
Please.