So it’s been a while since I‘ve written anything. This time I have a really good excuse. Exactly 6 months ago, I was having a lovely evening when a trip to the bathroom and my cooler turned into one of the worst nightmares of my life. I have documented, on several occasions, my inability to remain upright. I’m clumsy, and we can blame it all on a leftie living in a right-handed world (there’s studies people), but the fact of the matter is, I fall down a lot and it was bound to happen. I tripped on some steps and I broke my right fibula and severely sprained my left foot.
You can imagine my glee when I left the doctor’s office two days later sporting a cast on my right leg and a boot reminiscent of a twenty-pound medieval torture device on my left leg with orders to not bear weight on the right leg until further notice. Not hard since without any operational feet it’s hard to walk. But whatevs.
So I notified my boss that I would be indisposed for a period of time and luckily for me, I work for the most patient man known since Job. Five weeks later, I roll (literally) into Court in a wheelchair and can only hang half days for a few more weeks until I gradually am able to move from a walker to a cane, 4 weeks later. Let me tell you, breaking a bone in a major limb in your 40’s is no joke. I used scoff at killing a horse with a broken leg. Now, I understand it’s the humane thing to do.
And in this long ass process I have learned a thing or two. Most of these things you’ll never understand unless you’ve lost your mobility. And that’s OK. I hope you never do. And I don’t want to be that blowhard asshole giving you a list of reasons you should be more mindful of the mobility impaired, but I hope you’ll at least consider the following before you make some asshole decision that affects someone else.
That person you are cussing out for taking up two parking spaces. I used to loathe that person. What a fucking asshole! That’s the first thing I would exclaim to myself when seeing this occurrence. Until I had to be that asshole when I was the one, without a handicap placard, who needed to go into a place of business in a wheelchair or a walker. There’s a process to go through to get one of those coveted placards and not everyone is eligible to get one. Because I know firsthand, I’ll never cuss that person out again. As a matter of fact, it’s quite possible that person is having a way harder time than I am. So if you need two parking spaces, then take them. Isn’t it easier to think that the person needs that space rather than to assume the worst? Yes, yes it is. Don’t let yourself become a victim of the popular media that everyone is bad and just in it for themselves. So many illnesses are invisible. Why not err on the side of kindness. It doesn’t cost you a damn thing.
This brings me to the fact that in this world you are going to run into assholes. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve run into grown ass adults who would watch me struggle opening a door while I was using a walker. But I will tell you, for every one of those assholes, there was an angel who was willing to hold a door open for me. And 80% of the time, those angels were kids. You don’t think today’s kids are respectful or have manners? That’s not what I’ve seen at all. Maybe if CNN covered a story about that (which would garner no ratings, sadly), more people would be hopeful about the future of this country. America IS great now. We just don’t focus on that.
That leads me to the last thing. Pain is invisible. You may know me from every day life and you only see what I let you. You may not know that I’m one of the lucky ones who has developed a rare condition that makes my nerves think I’m in pain when there’s no physical reason for that pain to exist. And because I live in the Heroin Belt, in a community riddled with heroin addicts, with a media focused on curing the addiction, and an election year where politicians must have an answer to every one of society ills, we are left with a black and white view on addiction. I don’t claim to know the answers. But for the life of me, I can’t think of any other medical condition where we tell people they can’t get a medication that can help them because their neighbor doesn’t use their prescription correctly. Imagine your doctor telling you that his other patient Joe doesn’t take his diabetes meds appropriately so he can’t give you the same prescription to keep your blood sugar in control, because the government told him he can only prescribe diabetes meds to a certain number of people. Makes no sense. But hey, that same government has no problem taking more money from working folks to fund those programs for suboxone, Vivitrol, and Narcan. Oh, but I digress…that’s a whole other blog.
The short story is this. Be a good human. Help your fellow humans – lend a hand, don’t judge, be nice. It really doesn’t cost you a damn thing and it might make a huge difference in someone else’s life.
Maybe it’s simply the fact that I’m getting old and my tolerance level for giving a shit about things has dropped to an all-time staggering low or Americans have become a bunch of whiny punk ass bitches, but this bathroom quandary has me left scratching my head. Either way, I’m so sick of hearing about it that I basically can’t look at the news or Facebook anymore.
Listen folks, this may be a news flash for many of y’all, but this transgendered thing didn’t just pop up when Bruce decided to become Caitlyn. This has been going on since the beginning of time. I’d safely bet that you have already used the bathroom with a transgendered person and didn’t even know it. Nothing happened to you. Everyone did their bid’ness, flushed, (hopefully) washed their hands, maybe put on some lip-gloss, and went about their day.
Do we really need the government to tell us which bathroom to use? These people can’t even balance a fucking budget or show up to work half the time, but we want them to pass laws telling us how to void our bladder and bowels? Think about it. In my book, this has gone way too far. I mean the government has already been way too far up in my uterus; I don’t need them in any other part of my nether regions.
I know what you’re saying now… Oh Helle! I can’t pee next to a rapist or pedophile! This is anarchy! The whole world is going to implode! To which I would respond, chill the fuck out. The transgendered people aren’t trying to molest you or your children. They just gotta pee. And 99.9% of the public bathrooms I’ve been in have stalls for which people can do their business without a stranger staring at you. Moreover, the rapists and pedophiles will find a way to leer at you or molest you regardless of some stupid potty law. It may be shocking news to many of you, but criminals don’t actually obey the law.
At this point in my life, I don’t give a flying crap (pun intended) about who is peeing next to me. You know what I do care about? I care about the state of bathrooms in the US. If we are going to venture into the territory about making laws regarding bathroom usage, I have a few suggestions.
The first law that should be enacted regarding bathroom usage would make it a 1st degree misdemeanor to leave your bodily waste on a toilet seat. I don’t know about you, but this is way more of a concern to me than a transgendered person peeing in the stall next to me. If you leave your piss or shit on a public toilet seat, then you should go to jail. And as a condition of your community control sanctions, you would be forced to clean up all the public restrooms in your city. I bet you’d stop leaving those little “presents” for unsuspecting strangers then.
Furthermore, not flushing would be a minor misdemeanor. You don’t have to go to jail, but you will be fined heftily for causing a public nuisance. I’m not sure why this doesn’t already fall under disorderly conduct, because I am alarmed, annoyed, and inconvenienced every time I walk into a public bathroom and find that some inconsiderate asshole left some unfinished business, but it doesn’t.
And while we are legislating poor bathroom behavior, let’s just go ahead and make not washing your hands a special misdemeanor. An automatic $25 fine, plus court costs of course, for any asshole who doesn’t wash their hands and then touches eleventy other public things which leads other citizens to come into contact with numerous infectious diseases, thus culminating into public safety threats, absences of work, and unnecessary medical bills.
So no, I don’t care that a person who was born male and is transitioning to female is using the bathroom stall next to me, as long as that person is cleaning up their mess, flushing, and washing their hands.
Now can we move onto something more important that will actually enhance our lives as Americans, or are we going to get stuck on this bullshit?
So, I visited a certain popular fast food establishment for lunch today. As I usually do when visiting said establishment, I ordered an apple pecan chicken salad. The perky order taker asked me if I wanted the bleu cheese on that, to which I responded, “Of course, I love bleu cheese.” I guess nobody in my town likes bleu cheese as much as I do, because they ask me that every time I order this particular salad. Matter of fact, I want the damn salad just as it is portrayed. If I didn’t want the bleu cheese, I would have said hold the bleu cheese. Apparently nobody in Chillicothe likes bleu cheese, so theoretically, I should get more bleu cheese, but I digress.
If you’re like me and have a brief lunch period, purchasing lunch usually takes up ¼ of the lunch period. While I inherently know that ordering from a fast food place is a gamble in and of itself, I know there are certain things I should check for before I leave the drive thru lane. Yet, it never really occurred to me, until today, that I should check to make sure the key ingredients of my meal are included.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve ordered a salad and driven to my chosen location of the city park, eager to enjoy my lunch, only to discover I don’t have a fork. That will definitely put a damper on your lunch. Since I’m a smart girl, I now keep a plastic fork in my car for such occasions. I also have a stash of salt, napkins, and other lunch necessities.
However, I do not keep salad dressings, bacon, or sugar-coated pecans in the backseat of my Mustang. When I order an apple PECAN chicken salad, at the very least, I expect it to have apples, chicken, and PECANS. I mean if your apple chicken pecan salad doesn’t have pecans, that’s like serving a bacon cheeseburger without the bacon. Amirite?
Since sharing my disdain on social media, I have learned that I’m not alone. Friends have reported that they have been shorted bacon on bacon cheeseburgers, BEEF on hamburgers (WTF?!), and fries from Happy Meals (which in my book makes them SAD meals). If these fast food workers want to convince me that they should make $15 per hour, then they are going to have to show me they’re worth it. If I order a double quarter pounder with no cheese (and I do because I have a kid who I think was switched at birth) and it has that little tag that says “made with NO CHEESE” stuck on the outside of the box, then goddamnit, there shouldn’t be any cheese on that mother fucker. But guess what? There’s always cheese.
YOU HAVE ONE JOB TO DO. Do it. And DO IT WELL. I don’t make much more than that and I spent thousands of dollars paying for a college education so I could get my job. If I walked into work one day and only did half my job, I would be fired.
So how about this. If you are a little fuck who thinks you’re entitled to make $30,000 a year to put pecans on a salad, then don’t forget the fucking pecans.
Who knew a few missing nuts could enrage a woman so much? I’m on a diet; those sugary pecans were my one cheat for the day and you cheated me. Bastards.
Well there is no denying it now; it’s officially the Christmas season. I’ve been trying to ignore the upcoming holiday since mid-October, when the retailers start putting out Christmas crap, people start decorating everything in thousands of tiny twinkle lights, and we are subjected to Santa Baby blaring ad nauseam on the radio. I’m not going to lie. I don’t particularly like Christmas, with the exception of the 1 ½ days I don’t have to work but still get paid.
One of the things I detest most about Christmas is that dreaded letter some people feel the need to send out bragging about all the great things their family did this year. I don’t get these anymore because I quit sending out Christmas cards about 7 years ago and I guess through the rule of reciprocity, I’ve dropped off all the lists I was previously on. So if you think this blog is about you, you are wrong. Any semblance of you in this piece is purely coincidental.
Now you know that nobody’s life is as great as they portray in the dreaded Christmas Letter. Yet, it always makes you feel a bit inferior. It’s a shame people even feel the need to do this to their friends. I guess the art of being humble died with The Cleaver Family. And quite frankly, with the advent of Facebook, we are all well aware of everything you and your family did this year, so the whole point of the Christmas Letter is now moot.
Anyhoo, I thought it would be fun to compose a fake Christmas Letter that would closely resemble what you might receive this year and then translate that into what really is going on with your Stepford Friends. Then you won’t feel so inferior, and hopefully we can have some laughs during this crazy, stressful time of year.
Dear anyone who will actually read my incessant boring drivel,
Wow! It’s so hard to believe 2015 is almost over! It’s been a crazy, busy year for the Jones Family, but as always we have been so blessed! We’ve decided to write this letter to share all our blessings with our beloved friends.
Nothing amazing really happened to us this year, but we are going to sugar coat the hell out of normal for you so that you will feel like your life sucks and you’ll try ten times harder next year to keep up with our amazing fake life.
First off, Bill and Jane celebrated their 25th anniversary of wedded bliss this summer. They enjoyed a romantic dinner where Bill presented Jane with a bouquet of roses and a present from her favorite jewelry store. They were hoping to take a second honeymoon to Hawaii, but with Bill’s demanding work schedule and the kids’ activities, there simply wasn’t any time! But next spring, they plan on a little exclusive trip to celebrate the occasion!
We are referring to ourselves in the third person because we think it makes us sound more important. We actually hate each other and barely speak to each other unless we need to figure out who is picking up the kids after practice. We went to dinner at B-Dubs. Bill watched Monday Night Football and I looked at Facebook on my phone. There were no roses and Bill gave me a heart bead for my Pandora bracelet. I think Bill is having an affair and the only trips I’m taking are to Kroger to buy groceries.
Stephen, our oldest child, is in his senior year of high school. In addition to being an honor student, he is also a star on the basketball team, and volunteers at the soup kitchen every weekend. Every week there are a ton of letters from colleges just pouring in begging him to choose them. He really wants to stay close to home but we are hoping he picks Harvard!
Stephen is barely passing his classes because he’s a pot head. He used to ride the bench in basketball, but now he’s off the team because juvenile court ordered him to do community service for that little traffic accident where the police officer found a joint in his car. He will be attending community college because no other institution of higher learning will accept him.
Susie just started her freshman year and is already making quite the mark on her high school. Our little beauty is a proud member of the dance team, yearbook committee, and she was chosen as the freshman attendant for the homecoming court. Bill has been joking that he’ll have to get a shot gun just to keep all the boys at bay! Shortly after homecoming, she donated 12 inches of her hair to Locks of Love. What a blessing this young lady is to our lives!
Our little Susie turned into a hoochie mama when she entered high school. She has become a YouTube twerking sensation, which led her fellow male classmates into voting her homecoming attendant. Now they are beating the door down in hopes of an easy score. Bill made her cut her hair in hopes that it would be a huge turn off to the young lads, but I don’t think it’s her hair that’s attracting the little twits.
Sean is finishing up his last year in junior high. We are just relishing the time our youngest child spends at home before he enters into high school. Jane and Sean routinely spend the weekends baking spectacular cakes and designing Halloween costumes for the family. In addition, Jane and Sean have cultivated quite the herb garden, so every meal is accentuated with fresh, homegrown goodness.
Sean never leaves the house. He has social anxiety and we are pretty sure he’s gay. Bill is horrified, but I’m thinking he’s our best bet at having a child with a normal marriage that will result in grandchildren. Plus, he makes a killer Chicken Divan.
The Jones Family has had such a blessed year. We hope your family has experienced the same joy we’ve had! We can’t wait to see what the New Year holds for us all. We all wish you the Merriest of Christmases and the Happiest of New Years!
Our year was no more special than yours, but I really want you to be jealous of how great my life is. Next year I fully expect Bill will run off with his secretary, Stephen will end up in jail, Susie will make me a grandma, and Sean will probably stick his head in the oven right before the Chicken Divan is done. The highlight of my week is flirting with the bag boy at Kroger and if I weren’t worried about what all you assholes would say at the next PTO meeting, I’d totally do him.
The Jones Family
I don’t think I’ve ever been more disappointed in my life than I was this week when I got wind that the Oxford Dictionary Word of the Year wasn’t actually a word. You may not know this, but I’m a huge fan of words. I totally got my panties in a bunch when the dictionary decided that the word “literally” didn’t actually have to mean literally because so many people were using it wrong. What the hell, let’s just cave to the masses and make it mean something entirely different!
As I said previously, there are so many words in the English language that we never use that are so spectacular. We don’t need to change the definition of a few words to relate to the dumbasses who don’t own a dictionary. And we most definitely don’t need to add emoticons as words because people are too lazy to ACTUALLY USE WORDS.
Don’t get me wrong. I love emoticons. They are fabulous. For texting. But when I am laughing so hard I’m crying in REAL LIFE, I can’t just hold up a crying-so-hard-I’m-laughing pillow that I picked up at a kiosk in the mall, because mainly my purse isn’t that big and, well, that’s just not convenient.
I can, perhaps, state that I am verklempt. Or elated. How about euphoric or overcome with tears of joy. Exalted, jubilant, animated, aroused, enraptured, exhilarated, intoxicated, blissful, gleeful, joyous, on cloud nine, rapturous, or overwrought with emotion.
And I came up with all of those without even trying that hard. Mostly because I own a thesaurus. Which I’m sure that the Oxford Dictionary, and most of the free world, has now forgotten even exists.
So the next time you’re feeling all , hopefully, you’ll have cell phone handy to describe how you feel. And anyone who doesn’t will just see ☐, which will totally describe how you feel, unless you have that emoticon pillow in your back pocket to describe how you really feel.
Thanks, Oxford Dictionary.
It may be a little late in the race, but I’ve decided I’m running for president. I figure if Donald Trump, this guy, and Deez Nuts can run, then why can’t I? I’m fairly certain I’m more qualified than two of those yahoos. I’ll let you guess which two. Hint – Donald Trump is one of them.
I know it’s important to have a solid platform when running for president and I guarantee mine is just that. For instance, I’ve decided that the one thing America is missing is the three-martini lunch. I don’t know about you, but I am way more productive after I’ve had a couple of drinks. Matter of fact, after three martinis, I can solve any problem thrown my way. Just ask my girlfriends. I routinely solve all the world’s ills on any given Saturday or Tuesday night.
Another thing America is missing is creativity. That’s why I’ll propose a four-day work week. I hereby declare that Fridays will be dedicated to being creative. All mundane work shall be halted on this day so that our citizens can engage in the creative arts. I’d also suggest you continue to have your three martini lunch on this day. I don’t know about you, but martinis make me more creative.
I’ll also propose that any activity that involves your body and your doctor is none of the country’s business. We don’t need to know if you have chronic diarrhea (I can never spell that word), who you’re having sex with or how frequently, or that your cholesterol is off the charts. We’ve been brainwashed into thinking we need insurance. My theory is that insurance is the whole damn problem with healthcare. I won’t require you to buy health insurance. Matter of fact, I think if we did away with mandatory insurance, health care costs would plummet because then doctors could actually charge a fee that would cover their costs and not inflate their costs in order to get what they need to cover their expenses. Instead of requiring you to buy insurance, I would give you a tax break when you pay for your medical expenses and devote a portion of your income into a health care account to cover those expenses. Oh and there will be a huge penalty to anyone using the damn ER for an ear infection. That ain’t no emergency. Listen up folks… before heading to the ER ask yourself, are you faced with the loss of life, limb, or eye? Yes? Go to the ER. No? Wait ‘til the morning and call your doc. Whew… don’t get me started.
In regards to immigration, I say if you’re in this country and you’re holding down a job and contributing positively to the economy and not breaking any laws, you can stay! I’m going to have to ask you to pay some income taxes, but that’s only fair. I have to pay taxes, so you should too. However, if you’re an American citizen not holding down a job, committing crimes, and draining the country of its resources, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave. It’s like Survivor. You’re voted off the country. I don’t really care where you go. If you can con Canada into taking you, that’s great. I hear the poutine is delicious.
And you know what? If you’re a law-abiding citizen then you can have a gun. Matter of fact, you can have a whole arsenal if you want. In my line of work, I’ve come to see that criminals will get their tools regardless of what laws our government enacts upon the control of said tools. Now, I don’t have the answer to stopping the criminals from getting their tools, but then again, I haven’t had enough martinis yet. I’ll get back to you on that. See, isn’t honesty from a politician refreshing?
Somewhat on the same line, I say legalize pot for everyone. When’s the last time you saw a pothead rob a bank? I’ll tell you when. Never. He may be thinking about robbing a bank, but after he got high, he raided his cabinets for snack foods and fell asleep on the couch while watching reruns of The Simpsons. The following morning, he has no memory of that idea and heads to work at the Walmarts. He’s not bugging you.
I also don’t like when our Congress sits around like a bunch of little stubborn kids butting heads over how things should be handled. I think they need a little lesson in cooperation. I’m going to break it down for them Sesame Street style. Every time they butt heads, I’m going to make them sit on a big comfy couch and hold hands until they can compromise. It’s what this country has needed for a long time – a good, stern mother to get things in order.
So there you go. When you head to the polls in November, vote for Helle.
P.S. This blog is tongue in cheek. Don’t get your panties all in a twist and start sending me political hate mail. That job doesn’t pay enough for me to take it. Cheers!
There’s been something bothering me and I feel like I need to get if off my chest. It seems lately that no one can write a damn news article anymore. Everything has to be a slideshow or a video. And it’s driving me bonkers.
I have to be on a computer all day for work, so the last thing I want to do when I get home is get on my computer. I want to cozy up on the couch, with a beverage, and check out interesting Internet content on my phone or iPad during TV commercials. I don’t want to watch the news because it’s too damn depressing, so I end up looking at a few sites I know and enjoy to remain somewhat informed and entertained.
For example, I really wanted to read the 15 Essential Must Haves for Fall! But it was a slideshow, and after 20 minutes of trying to x-out stupid pop-ups ads and waiting for the slides to load, I got aggravated and decided I’d just make up my own essential fall wardrobe. Another interesting one I missed out on was the 25 Most Hilarious License Plates Ever! Man, do I love a creative and/or punny license plate. But clicking through 25 slides to see them? I’d rather scoop my eyeballs out with a dull, rusty spoon. And let me tell you, there is nothing more disappointing than wading through the mire of a slow-loading, pop-up ad laden slideshow (or video) with a headline that makes you think your life will end if you don’t read such revelations, to only come to the end of it thinking WTF, a toddler could have written a more interesting piece.
By the way, don’t get me started on the “you won’t believe this” headline that you think you must click on. Not only can you believe it, there’s no actual news there and you probably just downloaded a virus and gave a Russian hacker access to all your passwords, SSN, first street you lived on, your first pet’s name, your childhood BFF’s name, your blood type, and credit card numbers, and exact geo-location, as well as your home security system PIN.
Damn it, I want my articles written in paragraphs with actual sentences! And if I wanted to watch a video, I’d get on the G-D YouTube. I’m not opposed to 25 funny pictures, but since 99.99% of the population now looks at the ‘Net on a mobile device, can we at least put them all on one page? Can I get informed about the goings-on in the world without having to watch a 30 second ad followed by a 3 minute video? And just because I click on your stupid slideshow does not mean I want to sign up for you stupid slideshow newsletter via a pop-up ad that I can only get rid of on my phone by closing out the whole frick-fracking web page.
CHEESE AND RICE! Doesn’t anyone write actual articles anymore??!!
(Thank you. I feel better now. For a minute.)