If you’ve been looking at the Internet in the last few days, you might have come across some news that people are body shaming Lady Gaga over the appearance her midsection during her Super Bowl performance. These must be people who live in LA, or maybe New York, where only super skinny women with six-pack abs exist. For the first time in, oh forever, I actually watched the Super Bowl. In the past I’ve not been much of a Gaga fan, but after seeing that performance, I have to say she’s converted me.
Regardless of what she looks like, Lady Gaga has proven herself to be amazingly talented. Girl has mad pipes. She’s a gifted songwriter. She’s extremely entertaining and exceptionally smart. She has to be physically fit to put on a performance of that nature. Hell, I can’t even walk up two flights of steps and hold a conversation without becoming breathless. And everyone was so surprised that she didn’t make some political statement. Are you sure about that? Maybe they weren’t in your face, Madonna-like, I want to blow up the White House statements, but they were there, formed in an intelligent, thoughtful, subtle way. I guess everyone was too hung up on that belly to realize it. And there’s where the shame should be – on the people too blind to look past a woman’s physical attributes and recognize her ability and talent.
If you are one of the Belly Watchers, then I hope your glass house is in order and ready for a big ol’ stone to come crashing through one of your walls. Women are not pretty little playthings for you to enjoy looking at. We come in all shapes and sizes, just like men. Some of us are extremely intelligent and talented, just like men. Some of us are even huge assholes, just like men.
I just wrote a blog on the things I’d like to see disappear in the New Year. Shaming was Number 4. Here we are, a month and a half into 2017, and Lady Gaga’s belly is Internet fodder for people who have nothing better to do with their lives. Are you kidding me? I’ve had 4 kids, 2 of which I birthed at the same time. My stomach wouldn’t look as good as Gaga’s if I had three rounds of liposuction, a tummy tuck, and only ate iceberg lettuce from now until the day I died (probably of malnutrition).
PLEASE, for the love of all humankind, stop this behavior. We MUST stop basing our opinions of all people, but especially women, solely on their appearances. I’m not saying you can’t have a negative opinion about someone, but for Pete’s sake, base your opinion on something substantive that makes a difference and works towards the betterment of our society.
That woman, with a belly roll or two (which Gaga does not have), might actually be an amazing person who turns your world upside down and introduces you a new way of thinking that will change your life for the better. But you won’t know that if you’re only focused on her midsection.
It’s not an executive order YET, but we know Trump is pro-pussy grabbing, right?
Surely you’ve heard someone tell another person not to “be a pussy”? That saying just irks the living hell out of me. Basically, when you say that, you’re saying that being a woman is a bad thing. That being a woman is akin to being weak.
If you’re saying such a thing, then you don’t know the women I know. I’ve been around for almost half a century and let me tell you, I’ve had the pleasure of knowing some strong ass women. I have also come in contact with some weak ass men. And I really resent hearing someone use that generalization which degrades women as a whole.
I personally have been so sick, to the point of being on the toilet with the shits while holding a trash basket to puke in at the same time, while trying to get two children off to school, and then taking care of two other toddler children for an entire day on my own. And I know I’m not the only woman in this world who has done that very exact thing. I know that happens every day, 100-fold, in this world. Yet somehow being a “pussy” is a bad thing?
Let’s talk about the things the “pussy” does.
It gives birth to human beings. Have you witnessed that? I’ve done it 3 times. And that last time, I pushed two babies out at the same time. If you’ve ever had the privilege of witnessing that, it’s not a weak thing. I cannot even imagine another thing a human being can do that is more amazing than that. Some of us even do it without drugs, which I can’t even fathom. I thought I was a bad ass and I had the epidural all three times. And let me tell you, after you’ve pushed one human being out of your nether regions and then have to endure a grown man shove his arm, up to the elbow no less, into the depths of your body to turn the second baby around from the breach position, so you can then push that baby out, while all interested parties are more interested in the Colts playoff game, you’re pretty much a super hero in my book. I’m still waiting for my Wonder Woman cape and tiara. And honestly after that, I should have some special pass that allows me to park in the front for everything from here on out.
But even when all that is not happening, every fucking month, the “pussy” is preparing for that to happen. Might not sound like a big deal, but let me tell you that preparing for the possibility of creating LIFE every month is quite the bitch. There can be unbearable cramps, heavy bleeding, severe back pain, diarrhea, and general malaise. But you know what? We are expected to report to school and work like it’s just another Tuesday.
Later in life, when the “pussy” decides it’s just tired of preparing for life every month, it does one other big fuck you. And can you blame her? Not that I’ve experienced it, but I hear things can get itchy and dry. And completely out of the blue, you can feel like Satan himself has set you on fire. Ever notice that lady you work with is not wearing a coat when it’s 17 below zero? It’s called menopause. Whatever you do, don’t say anything about it, because, she truly has the strength to rip off your arms and shove them right up your ass. Do you really want to go through a whole workday with your arms sticking out of your asshole? My guess is NO. So, shut your trap and offer her a cool beverages and chocolates and get the hell out of the way.
None of this even addresses the personal grooming we go through for our significant others. In this day and age we have to guess. Are you a 70’s kinda guy or a wannabe pedophile expecting the pre-pubescent look? Or somewhere in between that? We don’t know. Our crystal ball is in the shop. And not only are we exhausted guessing what you want, we are fucking exhausted bending into non-conforming positions to make your porn dreams come true.
You want the government to regulate all that? Then tampons, pads, pantiliners, birth control, douches, wax, razors, vitamins, and women’s health supplements should all be tax free. Our pussies need to be in tip top shape for all you white, male Republicans, right? Where’s the executive order calling for all that?
Regardless, when you call someone a pussy, you’re basically saying they are tough as shit. You’re saying that person can raise kids, keep a house in order, even when they have a stomach flu that would knock most men to their feet, and organize a PTO bake sale on top that. Perhaps, if you want to imply someone is weak and can’t handle anything beyond breathing on their own, you should use the term “dick.”
I dare someone to take the advice of our President and grab me by the pussy. That dude will walk away with one mangled appendage that used to resemble a hand.
I’m a strong believer that women need to stick together and support each other. I’m so much a believer in that philosophy that I’ve tried like the dickens to find something in my heart that could support Kellyanne Conway, despite the fact that I loathe her boss. I think we can say she’s the first woman to successfully run a presidential nominee’s campaign and that is quite an accomplishment. I want to be happy for her. I want to be able to commend her on a job well done.
But then she goes and opens her mouth on national television and starts talking about alternative facts. Some people will do anything for a paycheck and/or notoriety. I get that. I personally wouldn’t, but I know there are people who would and I try not to be judgy about it because I don’t walk in their shoes, so I don’t know what leads one to make the decisions they do.
Let’s hand it to Ms. Conway for opening up the conversation that all humans from the beginning of time have wanted to open up, but haven’t due to societal norms. She just got up on national TV and told us that lying is A-OK! Not only is it completely acceptable, it’s the new way of life! Think of the ramifications!
So you just stole some shit from the Wal-marts. Their security camera caught you doing it. I suppose if you had a good attorney, they might be able to conjure up some alternative facts about that video. Maybe the judge could look into your heart and see some mitigating factor about why you did what you did.
That’s not how the world worked pre-Trump. But now his administration just opened the gates. Thanks to Ms. Conway, instead of wrongs, we now have alternative rights. Which if you use your English, is just a double negative, meaning it’s still WRONG, but we now have a pretty new name for it that makes it seem not so bad.
Stealing? That’s alternative giving. Assault? That’s alternative hugs. Trespass? That’s alternative traveling. Hate speech? That’s alternative praise. Lying? That’s alternative truths.
So you can either be alarmed by this new information and be labeled a snowflake or you can grab opportunity by the balls and use this for your own personal benefit. On a semi-related note, I feel the need to extrapolate that while snowflakes may seem cute and delicate on the outside, if you really think about snowflakes, they are quite the little bad asses. Each one is unique, they sparkle like diamonds when the sunlight hits them, and when they decide to pile up in big bunches, they shut shit down. That doesn’t seem delicate to me at all. If I were you, I wouldn’t fuck with the snowflakes.
Winter is here, bitches.
With the exception of 2016, I’ve done an annual list of things I’d like to see go away in the upcoming year. I can’t remember what was going on that I neglected it last year. Probably just major slack-assedness. Or more likely, it was Seasonal Affective Disorder (I hate winter). Anyhoo, it’s always fun to bitch and moan about the things that drive you mad. Well, at least it is for me. I always feel better after writing it and I think maybe if I can get just one person to stop being a d-bag, then I’ve accomplished a very important task for the betterment of society. I’m not pointing any fingers, but if you see yourself in any of these, for the love of humankind, just cut it out.
- Mansplaining. Contrary to popular belief, the organ responsible for critical thinking is not the penis. I know this comes as a shock to many people, but it’s actually the brain that’s in charge of that arena, and luckily for women we actually have that organ! I hate to break it to you, guys, but you don’t have a monopoly in the intelligence market. I’m sure quite a many of you are smart as hell, but there’s a helluva lot of smart women out there too, and you’d be wise to shut your mouth and use your ears more often.
- Boob money. Listen ladies, I get it. I don’t always want to drag a purse around with me either. I happen to have an ample bosom myself, and most days it’s all I can do to make sure the girls stay in there. It’s not a mini clutch to carry your money, credit cards, etc. Even if you aren’t at the club dancing like a stripper working the pole, things get sweaty up in there. Nobody wants to be handling your wet, sweaty Jacksons (I don’t know many people who roll with Benjamins). It’s just fucking gross. With the exception of ER visits and intimate relationships, nobody wants to be touching anything with your bodily fluids on it.
- General Bathroom Disgustingness. So have you ever sat down on a toilet seat to do your business, only to feel that your ass is all wet? There’s a myriad of reasons this occurs. At my house, the most likely offenders are my pups. They think the toilet is a wading pool, but they are dogs. Humans, if you are leaving your piss or shit, or any other fluid coming out of your body, on a toilet seat or the floor surrounding the toilet, clean up after yourself, for fucks sake! I shouldn’t even have to tell you this if you are over the age of 5. Matter of fact, I have FOUR children and I’ve NEVER had to tell them this one time. I am not a nurse. I do not want to deal with your sweat, piss, shit, snot, vomit, or blood and I can pretty sure damn well guarantee nobody else does either.
- Shaming. Here it is 2017 and us Americans like to pretend in public that we’re still a bunch of Puritans living in the 17th century. We love to shame women people for being too fat, too skinny, too poor, too promiscuous… I bet every social media post blasting someone for one of these mortal sins is being made by a fat slob shoveling Cheetos in his mouth while watching porn from his mom’s basement. My question is why do you care? I think it’s because you see the very things you detest in your own self and you have tiny mouse balls and can’t motivate yourself to make the change you want to see in others. And if that’s the case, then you need to shut the fuck up. Even if you exemplify perfection in the form of a human body and soul, shouldn’t your focus be on helping someone less fortunate than you? Yeah. Success isn’t a limited entity; it’s infinite. There’s enough for everyone. And youngsters listen up. Cute and skinny only lasts until you’re about 30. After that, you better have something else to rely on, because it’s all downhill from there. You’re welcome.
- Bad grammar. Even if you didn’t finish high school, certainly you had an English class in elementary school. Ironically, they used to call it grammar school way back in the day. There is no excuse for poor grammar, other than just laziness. I bet there are even YouTube videos on the subject. And for the love of God and all humankind, PLEASE stop sharing memes with incorrect grammar and spelling. Also, quit telling me you knew there was a misspelling and you used it anyway because it still conveyed the spirit of the message. NO IT DOESN’T. IT CONVEYS YOU ARE AN IDIOT. And if you’re too lazy to improve your grammar game (see what I did there?), then print out this handy little chart and put it in your back pocket and refer to it as necessary.
- Car decorations. I’m not talking about bumper stickers here either. Matter of fact, I love bumper stickers; they amuse me. Especially that one time I spotted a car with a Jesus fish and a Pantera bumper sticker. Not that you can’t be a fan of Jesus and Pantera at the same time, but it is a little dichotomous. No, I’m talking about those antlers, wreaths, big red noses, giant fake eyelashes, sport flags… By the way, those flags just let people know you suck as a sports fan AND a driver. Really, I don’t know why I care about this, but it irks me. I only wish people put as much effort into actually driving the car as they do decorating it. You know what would look great on your car? Some fucking turn signals.
- Get over it. This is has become a common mantra amongst Trump supporters during the post-election season. You don’t have to search very far to see I am not a Trump fan. At one point during his campaign, I publicly announced my sincere hope that it was a big hoax. Unfortunately for me, and half of the nation, it wasn’t. Regardless, you should never utter these words to another individual. I really shouldn’t even have to tell you this; it should have been covered in grammar school, but it seems that people have forgotten the basics of common courtesy. People are entitled to their own thoughts, opinions, and feelings. Just because you don’t agree with them, doesn’t make them invalid. Especially when you are speaking from a place of privilege. Just remember, just because something doesn’t affect you doesn’t mean that it doesn’t have meaning or value to someone else. You should be careful about dismissing those sorts of arguments. The people who make them are likely the only people who will be worried about your rights when someone is trying to take them away. If you dismiss them straightaway, there may be no one left to speak on your behalf when the time comes. Food for thought…
- Skinny Jeans. This only applies to the 20 and above crowd, and males of any age. If you are a 15 year-old female, or an anorexic of any age (you know I don’t want you to be anorexic, so don’t send me hate mail), then by all means, continue rocking your skinny jeans until the cows come home. But dudes, stop it. Women want a man who can kick someone’s ass. We don’t require that you actually kick someone’s ass; we just want to know you can kick some ass should the need arise. And skinny jeans scream you ain’t kicking nobody’s ass. They also kind of scream that you don’t need a lot of room in the crotch area. Which may or may not be an issue, but let’s just say, it’s not starting out on the best foot. First impressions count! You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but I’ll tell you, I’ve bought many a book based solely on the cover. I may not have read the whole book, but it made its way into my house. Just sayin’.
- Unkempt Facial Hair. I’m not talking about neatly trimmed, well-groomed beards, so don’t get your whiskers in a knot. I’m not even talking about goatees (because those are sexy). I’m talking about the ratty, pubic-looking, fecal carrying, bacteria-trap beards. You know what I’m talking about. It’s like porn; some of it is very offensive, but you don’t know it’s offensive until you actually see it. A nice, kempt beard that doesn’t carry an offensive smell and looks nice is fine. Deviate from that one smidgen, and well, shit goes all to hell. And unless you don’t care about never being laid again, please stop doing that rat-tail with multiple ponytail holders on the chin thing. That’s worse than the man-bun. At least the man-bun doesn’t hit you right in the chin when you try to kiss it.
- Jury Duty Evasion. One of the greatest things about our justice system is that you have the right to a trial by a jury of your peers. Just because you have been charged with a crime doesn’t necessarily mean that you committed said crime. You are entitled to a trial where the prosecutor will lay out their case to the jury of your peers, and they’ll decide your innocence or guilt. Problem is, we often have a hard time getting anyone to show up for the big day. I know it’s a hassle and it can involve a lot of waiting around. I know they don’t pay you very much and your employer probably doesn’t pay you for it either. But it’s one of the most important jobs we as Americans can do. It’s also very educational and quite oftentimes, entertaining. And don’t think because you didn’t actually make it to the trial portion of the proceedings that your day is wasted. Often people aren’t willing to face the music until they know their peers are waiting to hear the case. Your presence serves a purpose. Just do your civic duty! Think of it as a day of volunteerism where you get a small stipend to cover your lunch and free pass on parking tickets. Now some people may very well have legitimate excuses as to why they can’t be jurors. In that case, get the proper documentation from your medical provider or employer and forward it to the court. Do not tell the person answering the phone all about your chronic diarrhea. Nobody really wants to hear about that and more than likely, that person isn’t even able to excuse you. Oh, and don’t yell at them when they tell you that.
So there it is, the 10 things that would make me as happy as a pig in shit to never encounter again. As always, I invite you to share the things you’d like to see go away in the upcoming year, because I know I can’t be the only one out there who’s tired of some shit. Thanks for sticking with me this year. Hopefully, I won’t break bones and be laid up half a year in 2017.
My 2017 wish for you is that you dance like Elaine while people are watching. The world needs more of that.
I’ve been having trouble getting into the holiday spirit this year. Oh hell, I’m lying. I haven’t been happy about the holidays since I was a kid, and even then it’s questionable. I NEVER did get that Easy Bake Oven, and let me tell you, I feel cheated. Let’s face it, for adults (usually women), the holiday season just adds more chores to the to-do list. But for some reason (probably too much egg nog), I decided to search up Christmas cards on The Google, and Sweet Birthday Boy Jesus, some of the cards from yesteryear are simply horrifying. If you ever feel yourself questioning your sanity, just Google some random thing and add the word creepy to your search. You’ll instantly feel better about yourself. Promise. Regardless, let’s look at some creepy Christmas cards and discuss our feelz about them.
Here we have a Christmas greeting with LOVE. Never mind it looks like someone has stuffed a little person into a teapot full of boiling water to make you some holiday tea. I don’t know about you, but I always like my tea with a bit of suffering and ptomaine. Cheers!
Merry Christmas kids! I hope you have an adventurous holiday being kidnapped by a horned Satanistic looking creature with a very long tongue! Don’t worry; he probably has candy (and a machete) somewhere in that car.
Season’s Greetings! I hope your holiday is filled with a very large man-monkey hanging off your back and drawing blood with his huge claws. Looks like a helluva good time. This is the card I’m going to be sending to all my friends who are on The H this year.
Stockade, clown, questionable drinks, and subtle threats with knives…proof the obligatory office Christmas party is not a modern day invention. This card shows people have been suffering through this torturous event for hundreds of years. Only thing missing is a disco ball.
Hey there, hot stuff. Merry Christmas. When I think about you, I touch my pussy. Cat.
Nothing screams Christmas cheer like Santa dragging a drunken hooker through a back alley. Ho Ho Ho. I don’t know about you, but looks like fun.
In the 1800’s these toddlers were having some fun. Today? I see a couple of felonies and several misdemeanors. You’re going to hell, jail, and on the sex offender registry for the next 15 years for what you’re thinking this very instant. Merry Christmas!
I don’t know about you, but when I really like someone and I want to wish them a joyful Christmas, my first thought is always to send them a photo of a dead bird. Right after I put their pet bunny in a stock pot and boil it. Happy Holidays!
Well, it used to be all about you, Jesus. But things have changed. And I know exactly how you feel. My very own 45th birthday was overshadowed by the whole election from hell. Where were you for that, huh? I mean not only did they ruin my birthday, but they also ruined my life. Oh wait, never mind…
They say there’s nothing better than a home-made card to mark a special occasion. I agree. But I do hope Santa brings you some wax. And maybe some penicillin.
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy Ramadan, Joyful Festivus (I have a lot of grievances this year). I hope your holidays are joyous and filled with love; and you find a pretty package under your tree (preferably in a little blue box from the iconic Tiffany’s) and goodies in your stocking.
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.