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.

Day Make up vs Evening Make up (learn the difference)

I love the new smokey look eyeshadow that you see on tv and make up ads. The problem is that it is not only difficult to replicate, (without looking like you're Chris Brown's latest victim), it's also not an appropriate look for 98% of the time. A wedding, or any formal event this would look great. Going to get groceries, not so much. Since the look is usually paired with false eyelashes you end up looking like a raccoon whore with bamboo shoots growing up of your eyelids. That is why is is a NIGHT time look only. Lets face it, harsh sunlight is not our friend.
Except for Charlize Theron and Cindy Crawford... And they can both just bite me.
Everyone should have a friend that can tell them, "ease up on the face paint Missy. You look like Ronald McDonald." If not, you will be mocked. Maybe not directly to your crayola coloured face, but it will happen.
The only possible exceptions to the "No False Eyelashes and Heavy Shadow" rule are girls participating in a dance competition within the next two hours or drag queens.
The dancers still look ridiculous, but at least they have a reason.
The drag queens however, just look fabuloussssss!!!
And just in case you think you are fooling people with the falsies (lashes and otherwise) and try to get away with claiming its all natural.... You're not. So as Bob Newhart would say,

STOP IT !!!

(Just for giggles, search 'Bob Newhart Stop It' in YouTube)

Valentines Day. Why I love/hate it

Valentines Day is just around the corner. Ugh.  Every single woman gets her red satin heart patterned panties in a bunch over this day every year.   They all say its stupid and who needs it!!!  And then secretly weep while they consume an entire heart shaped box of chocolates.  Okay not EVERY woman...but quite a few.
I love that for one day a year, we are required to proclaim our love for our partners.  Only one day.

No more, no less.
Sad.

As if the concept of this day isn't weird enough, the fact that we are soooooo damn busy in our world today, we can't even call it valentines day. Now it's more often than not, referred to as V Day.  Am I the only one that finds this disturbing and perhaps somewhat vulgar?  Maybe because it sounds to close to VD.  Which for everyone over the age of 20 is what STDs were called a million years ago.   Even if it doesn't bring to mind mental images of oozing sores on someone's junk, it also sounds like an abbreviated way to say Vagina Day.  I'm going avoid the obvious connection to valentines day and connect it to another type of v day. 

 Pap day.  

Either way, not very romantic.  Even if my ob/gyn shows up with flowers and chocolate will that day ever be worth celebrating.  
At any rate, I say celebrate love every day. Especially when your partner least expects it!  Don't become a Hallmark zombie and show up once a year with a card and over priced roses!   It means more when it isn't prompted by endless TV commercials.

That being said, if my husband doesn't produce something with a serious carat weight, I will be seriously upset. 

My Wedding Vows aka "No Yardwork"

Whenever a female friend of mine complains about having to do any type of yard work, be it mowing grass, planting, pulling weeds or shoveling snow, I invite them to have a quick peek at my world.  My usually response is,

"I don't do yard work.  If it happens outside; it's not my problem.  I had it put in my wedding vows."

Now obviously I didn't LITERALLY do this, although seeing the expression on the eighty year old priest that married us would have been a tiny little hoot! 

And before you get your undies in a knot, it has nothing to do with sexual sterotypes.  I just do not enjoy the outside stuff.  Let's face it, that's where the bugs are.

You see where I'm going with this.  I have never mowed a lawn in my life.  I grew up with an older brother and was therefore never required to attempt this chore.  Luckily we also had a gas run John Deere monstrosity of a mower that weighed a thousand pounds, so the likelihood of me being able to actually maneuver it was slim.  Call me spoiled if you wish, I do not care!  I'm also one of the few people on the planet who can not stand the smell of freshly cut grass.  To be perfectly honest, I would rather smell a skunk.  I'm serious!  So unless the grass has started to grow inside the house, it is none of my concern.  And frankly, if it IS growing in the house, and it's bugging you that much, feel free to fix the problem.  The same rules apply to snow.  While I have had some experience shovelling, I feel this task is best left to those more experience and trained for such tasks.  Like my teenage son for example.  Once in a blue moon, if it isn't too cold out, I will attempt to help out with the snow removal.  But in all honesty, my heart isn't in it.  What can I do?  I have given the job to my husband (who in turn has dragged a grumpy teenager into it) and if I change the rules now it would cause chaos in an otherwise fairly calm household.

 Who am I to rock the boat?  Stir the pot?  Make waves?

So this has been the rule in our house for the better part of 20 years.  I handle the insides, he handles the outsides. 

 Oh, unless the fridge needs to be cleaned out.  No way in hell I'm doing that!

New Email/Password Drama

OMG!!  I just spent the last half hour trying to log into my blog account.  I had to change my email address this past year thanks to some jackhole from Poland hacking into my account and sending spam to everyone in my contact list.  That was seriously awesome!  grrrrr
Now I am trying to change everything and Google won't let me.  Says my new address is already linked to something, blah, blah, blah.  I have changed passwords and crap so many times I have no idea what I'm doing.  I can't use my new address because Google, in its infinite wisdom, says that it is already in use...

YAH!!!  BY ME YOU MORON!!! 

I have now taught my laptop several new variations of well known curse words (as well as a few I've created on my own) and will have to try and sort this crap out.  Internet security is a great thing, provided it doesn't keep you out of your own accounts.  Personally, I think Google has a stick up its butt because most of my stuff is Yahoo related.  After this last problem, I think my loyalty to Yahoo has increased.  Although, it was a Yahoo account that was hacked and started this whole mess... but anyway, I digress...

So this guy from Poland, (I'm assuming its a dude, because lets face it; it was a douche thing to do and sounds like something a guy would do) ;o) manages to hack my account and I can't even log in to get my flippin' blog account up and running.  Feeling somewhat tech challenged?  Why yes I am thank you very much!
So I can hopefully keep this account because if I have to start from scratch I will be seriously pissed off... and to the peckerhead who caused all this grief...

Wal się!!!

Boneless Chicken Wings? I think not...

   All of a sudden there are various ads for restaurants advertising their

                      NEW Boneless Chicken Wings. 

Wings are one of my absolute favourite foods of all times, so I asked myself, how on earth do they get the little bones out those suckers???  Long story short, my husband ordered them recently (basically because he doesn't understand my love for wings and will not even try to eat something that takes that much time to consume.  Like most men, he's a stick a fork in it and eat... no muss, no fuss)  Anyway... he orders these "wings" and what he receives makes me laugh at first, then become angry.  Basically, they took chicken breasts (yuck) cut them into wing size strips and then cooked them in the wing sauce.  Seriously?  This somehow makes them wings?  So If I put the sacred wing sauce on my left foot it becomes a "wing"???  Calling it a wing doesn't make it true.  And if a person is too lazy to eat an actual wing, I say big deal!  My husband doesn't eat them and has managed to lead a fairly full life.  More wings for me!  Putting wing sauce on other pieces of meat no more makes them wings as putting baby powder on my ass makes me a baby.  Quit messing with the wings people!!

Another example of this sort of thinking is the ever popular, ice cream cake.  Just because something is "cake-shaped" it does not magically become a cake. 

    THERE IS NO CAKE IN AN ICE CREAM CAKE!!!! 

I want to make a meatloaf in a cake pan and market it as "Meat Cake".  Mmmm... that gets the taste buds rockin'!   So you serve this psuedo cake thing at a birthday... what do you put on it?  A real cake would have ice cream put on it, so you see where this is going...
Why must we slice and serve ice cream? 

          A scoop not good enough for you princess?!? 

Don't get me wrong, I'm not against the creation itself (I used to decorate the things way back in the day) but please don't call it a cake.  The shape of the food does not dictate what it becomes.  Call it what it is. 
So hey there Mr. Ice Cream Cake... get over yourself!  You're just a pile of frickin ice cream!

It's just a name you say?  It's false advertising and I for one will be it's victim no longer! 

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and put some make-up on and become a Cover-Girl.

What Annoys Me on FB (Today anyways)

Many things annoy me on FB (shocking, coming from me I know).  But his latest trend is just too stupid not to mock.
It's not enough that teenage girls are just plain insane, but now they have FB to advertise the extent of their stupidity to the world.  I keep seeing girls quoting love lyrics from songs.  Not to their boyfriends or random guys they like, but to their friends...GIRL friends.
I doubt they get these tiny odes from anywhere else since the art of actually reading poetry is long since dead.  As if these heart felt declarations aren't enough, they also have to post eight thousand pictures of themselves kissing each other on the cheek...usually in a bathroom. 
(And don't even get me started on the whole "duck face" issue because I will get violent.  Girls, you just look plain idiotic) 
My question is, why the need to announce to the world that you "love this girl with all your heart and couldn't live with out her"?!?!  I know it isn't politically correct to say something is "gay" but...

That's gay.

Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against homosexuals and do not want to debate this issue.  I have several family and friends that fall in to this category and I think debating it is like discussing the colour of their hair.  Doesn't matter.

Anyway, why the need for this declaration of love?  Do they even get what love is?  Because without exception the same girl who would cease to exist without her so-called soul mate will eventually have an online scrap with this girl.  This is very easy to identify as well.  It usually starts with a cryptic message about how two faced people can be, followed by having at least 50 comments attached to it. 
I'm all for loving your friends.  I do...I just don't feel the need to proclaim it to the world by quoting Katy Perry or Justin Beiber.
 
When did this become normal?  (cuz it's not)
Why don't boys do it?  (cuz, holy crap that would be funny!)

Alas, the poor youth of today!  They think they have invented teen angst!  How could we possibly understand their torment?!?!

Oh wait, I know how...
I grew up in the 80's. 
They need to listen to Wham!, Culture Club and Metallica while wearing neon EVERYTHING and trying to choke down a NEW Coke! 
Now THAT my friends, is angst!
So quit getting smoochy with your friends, it's just plain weird and you are going to look and feel soooo stupid in a couple of years when some of these girls "come out" and expect you to feel the same.
In short, just grow the hell up please.

Useless Trivia

I will be the first to admit that when it comes to useless trivia, my brain is chock full! 

Do I know my bank account numbers? No
Do I know my social insurance number?  No
Do I know my work address?  No

In my defense, I do however, know that the little divot between your nose and upper lip is called a philtrum.
The dot over the letter "i" is called a tittle.
Charlie Chaplin once won third prize in a Charlie Chaplin Chaplin look alike contest.
Bats always turn left when exiting a cave.
The first thing to have a bar code was Wrigley's Gum.

And so on...

I believe that I am unable to remember that I put a load of laundry in the washing machine, or where my keys are is because my brain can only hold so much information.  Therefore, in the part of my brain where these things should be stored, I instead know that there are more chickens in the world than people. 
Granted, perhaps knowing the location of my keys is somewhat more important, I still cannot replace the knowledge about the chickens. 

So if we go out anywhere together, please don't ask me to remember where we parked...because I am already busy remembering that the electric chair was invented by a dentist.

The Fine Art of Sarcasm

Ahhh, sarcasm... how I love thee...

The problem with sarcasm, especially in today's modern world, is that some people are born without the ability to comprehend or produce it.  The key to effective sarcasm is in the inflection.  I will give you an example.

Daughter: I don't like this, can I have something else for supper?
Me: Of course!  I love cooking so much, that I will gladly start all over again just for you!

Reading this, I sound like a wonderful caring mother... but when you add the inflection to it I come off completely different...

Daughter: I don't like this, can I have something else for supper?
Me: Of course! I love cooking so much, that I will gladly start all over again just for you!

See the difference?  Although sometimes inflection is not needed and the sarcasm is simply inferred by the language that is used.  Here is an example of a very common conversation in my house.


Me: I would like you to clean your room and sort your laundry.
Daughter:  Now?
Me: No...you may do it whenever it pleases Your Royal Highness.

Now, to those challenged in the sarcastic arts will think, "gee, how nice she lets her daughter do things on her own terms".  (Or more likely, "holy crap that kid is one spoiled little %^*@!")

Another challenge is trying to get my message across via email or text.  The general rule of thumb is if you've received it from me, it's dripping with sarcasm.  It's my job, it's what I do.  Some people knit, some people do volunteer work.  Me?  I mock.

A sad moment for me was realizing my daughter was totally oblivious to sarcasm.  We would say something to her and she would think we were serious when we answered her "where is the milk" type question with, "under the sink in the bathroom".  After several months of careful coaching and giving obvious examples of the art form she slowly began to catch on. 
We now think she may have caught on a little too well.  Maybe it's just the teen years at work, but the girl is now a sarcasm machine.

Daughter: The gym is noisy
Phys Ed Teacher: Thank you, Captain Obvious.
Daughter: Your welcome, Lieutenant Sarcasm

Although highly inappropriate, and somewhat disrespectful...

   

  I have never been prouder.

Fairy Tales: Why I Just Don't Buy It.

Fairy Tales, I just don't get it.  First all, the label is misleading since they don't all have a fairy in them.  I could be reading along...patiently waiting for the fairy character to appear, and then I get to the end of the book.  NO FAIRY!  What a rip off!  Perhaps the wolf in the "Three Little Pigs" would've had better luck if he had a fairy on his side.  Just sayin... but I digress.

I have often wondered about the validity of these stories, and yes, even as a child I was this cynical.  Lets look at "Goldilocks and the Three Bears" for a moment.  First of all, who names a child Goldilocks?  OK, I get it's not a real story, and she's not a real person, but couldn't the story teller put a little more effort into naming his characters?  Goldilocks?  Seriously?  What if she was a child with an abnormally large butt?  "Fat Ass and the Three Bears" ?  Now THAT'S a story I can get on board with.  The bears are no better, Papa Bear, Mama Bear and Baby Bear... they are gonna feel stupid when baby bear is all grown up and having to walk around the forest with the name Baby.  All the other animals will laugh and make fun of him.  There's no way he's ever getting a date...his life is ruined.  Live at home forever with Papa and Mama you loser!
Onto the actual story.  The premise is that the bears porridge is too hot, so they decide to go for a walk in the forest to wait for it to cool down.  I would like to know exactly how hot is this porridge that it requires them to leave the premises and wander around for awhile? 

Was this porridge made in middle earth? 
Why is it so hot?  Good grief you lazy bears!!! 
Just scoop some up and blow on it for Pete's sake!!! 

Next, our little miss Goldilocks breaks into the bears house, which we all know is just the first step to a life of crime.  Before you know it, she's knocking off liquor stores and selling cotton candy flavoured crack to Snow White and her posse.  Anyway, she breaks in, bitches about how uncomfortable their furniture is, eats their food and then thinks it is acceptable to climb into each of their beds.  Just a quick note on the beds... we read quickly through the part where the Papa and Mama have separate beds.  This sort of marital discord is unacceptable in a child's story.  The bears private lives is none of our concern.  Perhaps Papa wouldn't have his own bed if Mama learned how to cook properly!  Anyway, enough about the sex life (or lack thereof) of our bears.  Goldilocks ends her adventure in the baby's bed.  Which I find a little creepy because if this story was about the family down the street and they came home to find some blond haired tart sleeping in their kids bed, the story would have a very different ending.  Why is it all cute and cuddly because its a bear family?  Bears are not the most heart warming creatures...they can kill you.  Why not a rabbit family, or squirrels??  Because she wouldn't fit into a squirrel bed you say?  You're forgetting that in my version of the story, the squirrel house is situated next to a nuclear power plant and the squirrels have grown to be six feet tall.  So there! 

At any rate, I'm just not buying the premise that this is a suitable story for children.  If you think this is bad, you don't even want to know what my thoughts are on "Red Riding Hood".

Reality TV (and my red hot hatred of it)

I know that everyone is caught up in the latest Survivor or Bachelor series, but I can NOT stand these idiotic programs!  Lets put aside the fact that there are gazillions of writers out of jobs because of our latest fascination with watching other peoples "reality".  
Lets, for a moment, discuss reality.  Now; last I checked I am surrounded by reality.  In fact some days I am drowning in it!  My life is pretty good, better than some, worse than others, so why would I want to watch others peoples crap when I have my own?  Likewise, if my life is momentarily crap-free, then why would I want to fill mine with theirs??  I will admit when Survivor first reared it's ugly head back in 1788 (approx) I was watching.  The first couple shows were good until the whole strategy thing became an issue.  It's not so much a strategy as a plan to
1. Make secret alliances with the person directly to the left of you swearing undying loyalty until the end of time.  (Unless it's just the two of you left on the island, and in that case, that bitch is on her own.
2. Make a second secret alliance with the person directly to the right of you swearing undying loyalty until the end of time.  This alliance of course is complete garbage and you are just screwing with them to get info about other peoples plans.  Essentially, you have to toss everything you learned about being a decent person and become that evil chick we all knew in high school. 
3. The third and most important part (This applies to the females only) you must, and I mean MUST either be sporting a DD in an A cup bikini, or an A cup and just wear the headband/buff thing as a tube top.  Part this also involves you jumping up and down as much as possible in case people have forgotten to look at your boobs for a moment.
  This program does provide entertainment in the way of difficult challenges, but my biggest gripe with the show is that it ultimately rewards people for being mean.  They do everything that we teach our children not to and they win money and fame.  It is a sad revelation that this is where we are as a civilization. 

Now, on to "The Bachelor"...

Yes; millions of people love this show, some of my closest friends are addicted to it like crack.  I don't judge, I say watch away!!  My only request (other than PLEASE don't make me sit through an episode) is that at the end of the show when the "proposal"  happens, they must accept!!  Not only that, they must remain married and live together as a couple for a minimum of ten years.  You want fame?  You want money?  Fine!  It's yours!!  But you will have pay for it with ten years of your life.  If you think you can find the love of your life by acting ridiculous to gain the attention of some yahoo that got dumped last year then go for it!  I mean, it's not hard to fall in love when you are in Paris having a private dinner with the Eiffel Tower in the background.  Or on a private beach on a tropical island.  (insert puking sound here)  How about putting some reality into "reality" TV?  I want to see them get up and go to work, come home, make dinner, do laundry, clean the house, run errands and all the other fun stuff that reality brings.   Most of these contestants are wanna be actors or models and are hoping to spin their 15 minutes of fame into a lifetime.  Spare me!!  I especially love the syrupy sweet girls who bat their eyelashes and hang on every word the guy says.  Then tosses her hair back with a giggle that makes even Minnie Mouse roll her eyes.  The real pros are the ones who pick imaginary lint off the men in order to keep touching them.  My favourite part??  When these clueless morons actually fall for this shit!  (BTW ladies- thank you for putting the women's equality movement back about 300 years.)  I would love to see the sequel to this program where we get to see the raving shrew this barbie doll has turned into after living with her prince charming for a month.

If after watching these show you still want reality, come to my house and follow me around for a bit.  Today I am planning on cleaning the lint trap in my dryer, vacuuming and possibly cleaning out my fridge.  If you are super super lucky... you may even get to see me yell at my teenage daughter for having ten pairs of inside out jeans laying on her bedroom floor.

Or maybe I'll save that for my season cliffhanger...

FB Most Beautiful Teenager... WTF?!?

Sadly, this is not my usual type of post.  I felt compelled to write something about this and here it is.  In all it's ugliness...


I'll admit when I first saw the whole "Most Beautiful Teenager" thing on FB I wondered which pedophile thought of this one.  I mean seriously?  Encouraging teenagers to post their picture so the world can tell them whether or not they are beautiful.  Yikes... that poses a million different problems but I am going to focus on just a couple. 
First of all, most of these kids are indeed gorgeous.  What is saddening is that they need the rest of the world to adore them as well.  They know they are attractive... they can see the pictures as well as we can.  What makes them want to still gain the approval of the universe...well...human nature and insecurity I guess.  But still, it is disturbing.
What I find more disturbing is the trend to post pictures of kids that are either handicapped (sorry, not sure what the latest PC description is)or disfigured from either a disease or accident.  So now we must crawl into the head of your average teen, which is frightening in itself, and try and sort out the thought process.  They look at this person and know they are not what society deems as physically attractive. Whether these standards are fair or not, I don't want to discuss, it is a personal opinion.  However, these people do in fact look very different from what this contest is looking for.  So if a kid looks at this picture and DOESN'T vote for them they automatically think less of themselves for being so shallow and picking the girl with the perfect little nose and big brown eyes.  It is messing with their heads.  Lets imagine two pictures... one of the gorgeous girl and one of a girl who is disfigured in some way.  The contest is for the most beautiful right?  It is safe to say they mean physical beauty because if that wasn't what they wanted you to vote on, then you would need more than a picture. 

What do they do in their spare time? What are the persons moral beliefs? What are their opinions on social issues?????

Most people would pick the brown eyed girl in private but if their choice was made public they would choose the other one.  This causes self esteem issues for everyone...
They aren't picking the person they want to, they are picking the person they think they should because honestly, yes, the perfect looking kid is more attractive. In order to make this choice we need to know more about the person.
That being said... we are assuming that the pretty girl is a raging narcissistic beast and the other girl is a warm, caring child who would do no wrong.  What if that assumption if wrong?  Just because a person looks one way on the outside, it doesn't mean that automatically look the opposite on the inside.  We all know people of different levels of outward beauty and I think we can agree that some are indeed evil and some are in fact the nicest people we know.  At the same time, who's to say the untraditional looking person isn't a bad person on the inside.  We all know these people too!! 
I know I sound heartless towards some of these kids and I don't mean to.  The few that I saw that looked different we submitted by friends or family.  They are trying to convinve their friend/child that the whole world thinks they are as beautiful as their friends and family.  Why do they need this reassurance?  Not everyone finds the same thing beautiful and I don't know these kids well enough to make that judgement.  It results in votes out of guilt, because no, they aren't as physically attractive as some of the others.  With that being said, who cares?!?!  A lot of people find Angelina Jolie beautiful... I think she looks like a bobble head doll with facial features much too large for her head.  So what does it matter??
This whole contest is ridiculous I think has the potential to create more harm than good in the brains of our children.  If it were a contest about who is the better person, (which btw is a better idea) then all looks would be considered because it would have no bearing.  Because it specifically asks for what we deem "beautiful" I think it should remain that way.  Perhaps a contest on the most "Beautiful Soul" should be considered?? 

 Or, perhaps, we just leave this sort of thing alone and each enjoy beauty in its own way without having to compare and create winners and losers out of every ridiculous thing on the planet.

So here's the deal.... EVERYONE is beautiful in their own way.  Some in a traditional physical manner others by who they are and what they do.  Having the planet vote on this will make no difference.  Do not seek approval from the planet...it lies, it's shallow.  Trust the opinions of those who love you unconditionally. 

A person is as beautiful as the person they see when they close their eyes and see themselves from the inside.  Unless of course it is only important to you that you are physically beautiful and that the FB world agrees with you.  In that caase, congrats on your gorgeousness...enjoy it now, because when you are 85 and no longer have your smooth skin and shining hair you will be miserable.  And with any luck you will get to know that person who has had inner beauty their whole life and finally understand the meaning of the word. 

Merry Christmas! OKAY?!?!?

Ahhh, Christmas... that magical time of year when I can sit on my couch and watch the beautiful little lights on my Christmas tree twinkle along with the soothing holiday music.  I can look out my window and see the huge snowflakes seemingly take forever to tumble to the ground and balance delicately on the branches of the giant trees in my front yard.  You know that sound a record makes when you drag the needle across it?  Insert that sound here...

I can sit on my couch; awkwardly positioned in my living room to allow for the half assembled entertainment unit it is facing.  Any happy Christmas tunes attempted at being heard are being drowned out by the sound of drills being used to attach the last pieces to my new cabinets.  And Christmas tree???  I have a sad little 10" tree on a small table in the window that basically conveys the message,
"Yes, we are Christians and YES we know it's Christmas.  THIS IS THE BEST I CAN DO RIGHT NOW!!"  

The last thing to save the lack of Christmas spirit permeating in my half finished house is the beautiful snow, blah blah blah.  I look outside and see giant naked trees;  brown and sad, looking at me hopelessly as if to say,     "We ditched our leaves for THIS?!? Seriously??  We are naked out here.                   NAKED!!!"

 

The road is covered with remnants of snow, which has basically become big patches of dirty ice. The only thing that made me feel better about not getting the yard put back together before winter was that the ugliness of it would be hidden under a blanket of white snow, hiding the grossness until spring...Yeah... didn't happen.  Bumpy brown dirt is sitting out there mocking me.  "nice yard, Redneck!" 
Our reno addition that was started in the spring was supposed to be done by September, middle of October at the latest.  Here we are, less than a week before Christmas and I still do not have plumbing in my kitchen.  Ahh yes... I remember the good ole days when I could go into my kitchen...turn on a tap... and water came out.  Now THAT was living!  This morning I was washing a few mugs out to be put back into the cabinets.  This involved filling a bucket with water (from my bathtub) and washing them in there.  Yeah... that was fun.  After the water cooled and needed to be replaced for the second time, I managed to utter a wonderfully "un-Christmas like" word and was done for the day.  I think I've been fairly patient throughout this adventure, with only minor intermittent bitching.  Although in my defense, before we even started I did inform my husband that there would be whining, to which he replied "Yes; shocking".

My beautiful living room... be jealous.

"SuperMom!!"... and other words that get me irate.

I am what some call a "stay at home Mom".  This is seriously annoying and I find myself always having to explain why and then justify it...
Here are a few comments that make me completely insane;

1) "You don't do ANYTHING?!"
2) "You don't feel guilty not contributing to the family?"
3) "Must be nice to have that luxury!"

In regards to comment #1... Of course I don't do anything!  The kids have been able to feed and clothe themselves since birth!  The house stays perfectly clean because my children are absolute angels and always insist on cleaning up after themselves...Now if you'll excuse me I have to go and lounge on my sofa and watch soap operas all afternoon...

Comment #2... Not contributing?  I would like to sit down and add up what it would cost to hire someone to look after the kids and house... but my tiny little housewife brain just can't handle those big numbers.

Comment #3... Luxury?  Doesn't feel like a luxury when I am nursing two sick kids while trying to keep up with the barfed up bedding they keep producing.  While you are going out for lunch with your co-workers, I am having headless animal crackers (because my darlings find them "creepy") and watching TreeHouse while sitting on the floor and being used as a human bean bag chair.  There is no extra money for evenings out, hair appointments, nail appointments and girls night involves Polly Pockets spread from one end of the house to the other.
I am not complaining!  I chose this life and I have loved it (Well, MOST of it).  However, when some snotty desk jockey mom looks down her nose at me simply because I opted to stay at home and raise my own children  *gasp!* I get a little annoyed.   And if she dares to go into the "poor me... I miss my babies all day!  It breaks my heart to leave them! 
Uh... bite me!  Yes some moms have to work, especially if they are a single parent or the father can't work for whatever reason.  But again... did you NEED to have half a dozen kids?  (because these people never have just one or two.)  I guess it's easier to have a baby knowing you don't have to be the one staying at home and raising it.  I think that is a MAJOR insult to the Moms out there that are forced to work because of situations beyond their comtrol.  I know of some who would love to stay at home with their kids but thanks to disappearing husbands and fathers, they can't.  And if I hear the term "SuperMom" one more time I may actually have to hurt someone.  Unless you are wearing a red cape and can actually fly; you are NOT super.  You're a Mom.  Working all day and then volunteering on every committee there is doesn't make you a super Mom.  It makes you an absent one. 
All I'm saying, is that just because what I do all day isn't witnessed by an office full of people that doesn't make it any less important. 
I'm sure lots of women out there would disagree with me but I will share with you a valuable life lesson I have learned from my kids...
Place fingers in ears and shout,
"I'M NOT LISTENING AND YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!!"