tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86251543417803482252024-02-20T04:08:55.271-06:00SHADDAP!Folks, this column is based in my posts on Slate.com, which parody letters to the "Dear Prudie" advice column. It's ONLY a parody. It is for entertainment only and not to be taken seriously. For those of you who can't handle snark and cursing, go away now. There will be some blue language, and I'm not known for being kind to people who ask stupid questions. There's adult content here, too, so no, this is not a place for kids.Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-15682831307910969882013-10-19T13:57:00.000-05:002013-10-19T13:59:35.092-05:00What the fuck, kids?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b>Well, here goes!</b></div>
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So here I am at SHADDAP!, after a long time away. I expect that most of the people who have read my SHADDAPS in the past will have fallen away. So be it. I am a lazy correspondent at the best of times and it takes a lot to rouse me to post these days.</div>
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I'm in a high dudgeon today, as I have been all week, so when I feel like throwing something, I'll be posting photos. A couple of weeks ago, The Boy and I went to Toronto. We went for a couple of reasons. We used to live there and liked it a lot. We needed to get away for a bit and hang out in a place that we find very comfortable. The graffiti is out of this world amazing. </div>
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Do I need to repeat that? The graffiti is AMAZING, kids. I know San Francisco likes to brag, and it's pretty nice there, but Toronto has it beat all to hell now. I couldn't believe the difference in only the last three or four years. City policy has changed. There are no longer people running around blotting off the street art. The City of Toronto has actually started supporting its street artists, letting them paint on specific walls and organizing events where self-selected artists can just go crazy. </div>
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I'm sure it's a little more organized than that and the building owners give permission and all that. The net result is fabulous. So like I said, you'll get photos with my rant today, if it's all right with you. </div>
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Back to the topic. </div>
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Over the past week, Emily Yoffe, our very own Dear Prudie, has posted a couple of articles on Slate. From time to time she steps away from the advice column and actually has an opinion on something, which is usually a mistake. She should never do that. </div>
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Why, you ask? Why is it a bad idea? </div>
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Lemme tell ya.........</div>
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In the wake of the Maryville rape case fiasco, in which a 14-year-old girl was raped at a party and then left to die on her own front porch in the middle of the night in sub-zero weather........ Emily decided that it was time to let women know that if they drink, they are BEGGING to be raped. </div>
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That's right. Oh, she phrased it in her usual patronizing way, claiming that she was only trying to "help" and that women have to "keep themselves safe" because apparently ONLY women can control whether they get raped or not. </div>
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Now, this isn't anything new. It's classic rape apologist twaddle. It's ugly on a bunch of levels, though, because it blames victims for being assaulted and insults the vast majority of men who would never harm anyone, ever. This line of thinking assumes that women are helpless holes with feet who really deserve to be raped for whatever reason (in this case, drinking) the apologist wants to use at the time. </div>
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It also assumes that men are helpless morons who can't help themselves and are governed entirely by their gonads. Emily came close to saying flat out that men are too stupid to know the difference between sex and rape. </div>
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Again - we've heard it all before. Nothing new there. </div>
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Now we all know what happens when someone posts an article like this. The boards EXPLODE with posts. The Men's Rights losers try to dominate, posting endless versions of "bitch deserved it", followed by, "You femmunists (yes, someone called me that) are a bunch of emasculating bitches and you MAKE us rape you!"</div>
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You know that line of shit. For anyone who thinks that way, I say: </div>
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<b>SHADDAP!</b></div>
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You fucking morons. </div>
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What surprised the hell out of me, though, was the sheer tonnage of women who support Emily's shite! </div>
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What the fuck is the matter with you, ladies? I read a bunch of posts this very morning from women who are convinced that THEY were to blame for being raped! </div>
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There is post after post after post - in the thousands - all saying that Emily was right. Women are fragile flowers who will be raped and deserve to be raped every time they go to any social event, anywhere and have but a sip of something alcoholic! </div>
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What the fuck is that? And a resounding </div>
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<b>SHADDAP!</b></div>
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To you, too! </div>
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I'm guessing that, at this point, y'all can see that I'm a bit pissed off about this garbage. </div>
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Ahem. </div>
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So now, dear Emily has posted a whinging retort saying that no one understands what she was trying to say, furiously backpedalling whilst maintaining that she was right in the first place, and we're all too stupid to understand her. </div>
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<b>SHADDAP, EMILY!</b></div>
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I've been reading this shit all week. And how sad is that? Since when do we make excuses for rapists? Since when is it not only all right for men to rape women, but EXPECTED that it will happen? Emily rabbited on for an entire article about how women are to blame for what other people do to them...... because they drink. </div>
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The sad thing about all this is that I suspect dear Emily could easily have substituted "wore fitted jeans", "walked home at dusk", or "smiled in public", and her supporters would STILL think she was right! </div>
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Now, Amanda Marcotte over on Salon thinks, as I do, that Emily is full of shit. She's also commented on it, and Emily's rape apologist buddies have slammed the boards over there, too. I've had posts deleted over there just because the Men's Rights assholes don't like it when I say, as I have always said:</div>
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<b>Women get raped because men CHOOSE to rape them. </b></div>
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I didn't think this was a particularly revolutionary thing to say. It's the flat-out simple truth. We've seen so many ugly rapes excused and not prosecuted even when (as in Maryville, Steubenville, et al) the attacks themselves are recorded and posted all over the web. In Maryville, the DA, in the pocket of the rapist's Old Grandad the retired senator, declined to prosecute a rape AND attempted murder. </div>
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To this I say</div>
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<b>SHADDAP! </b></div>
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Assholes. </div>
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What are we teaching boys, here? How would it harm boys to be told, from earliest youth, that its NOT OK to:</div>
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1. Shove your penis into an unconscious human. </div>
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2. Shove your penis into someone who says "no".</div>
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3. Shove your penis into someone that you've never met when both of you are sober. </div>
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How complicated is that? </div>
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Why is it that so many people think that, instead of educating boys, we have to train girls to be constantly frightened, constantly on watch, constantly monitoring themselves because it's somehow their fault if someone attacks them? </div>
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What the fuck, people? </div>
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Now, another side of this is that rape victims who don't fall neatly into the "bitch deserved it" slot that the apologists are so fond of. ANYONE can be raped. An 85-year-old woman in a wheelchair was raped in Alberta recently. Babies are raped - as in a 17-month-old who died of internal injuries because someone CHOSE to rape her recently. </div>
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And here's where I have to disclose that I have been raped. Violently. Repeatedly. Left for dead. (Clearly I didn't die) </div>
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I don't want sympathy. That was a LONG time ago, I have moved on. </div>
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The point is that I was in university, and I don't fit into that box that everyone wants to shove young women into. I was attacked in my home, in broad daylight, stony sober. My attacker was someone I knew slightly. A bunch of us had been studying all day at my apartment. I was wearing baggy jeans and an ancient, equally baggy sweatshirt. No, I wasn't wearing makeup. In fact, I hadn't even bothered putting my contact lenses in that day. </div>
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I posted this on Salon, and was greeted with outpourings of - I can't describe it any other way - absolute and utter rage. There were posts saying that I must have done SOMETHING to deserve it. I was accused of lying. One particularly vile individual (who posts under the sobriquet "Lodatz") said that I deserved to be raped, beaten, and strangled because I lived off-campus. </div>
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To these people again, a rousing</div>
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<b>SHADDAP!</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6x7IJ7Rdqyo8vliClZ82k4d1PRsWIltx0efSk6WhMqMNn3iXiOd08UKeFGPjEkyUTOHZmFTebayomuZZaDFlo0QFeH50nm8fKI92dfyr9AeSxLzQPLVvXsL3i0uWKWchlsjJN2sQ9fW0/s1600/IMG_0953.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6x7IJ7Rdqyo8vliClZ82k4d1PRsWIltx0efSk6WhMqMNn3iXiOd08UKeFGPjEkyUTOHZmFTebayomuZZaDFlo0QFeH50nm8fKI92dfyr9AeSxLzQPLVvXsL3i0uWKWchlsjJN2sQ9fW0/s640/IMG_0953.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Photograph copyright 2013, all rights reserved. </div>
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NO ONE "deserves" to be raped. NO ONE "asks" to be raped. NO ONE who has been sexually assaulted in any way should have to listen to the shit that people seem to be fond of spouting right now. </div>
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Emily managed to start her very own shitstorm, and I have no doubt she's feeling very pleased with herself right now. She's never had so many page hits, and I'm guessing that the Slate editorial board is dancing in the streets because of that. They're making a fucking fortune right now, and all they had to do is roll over the bodies of rape victims to do it. </div>
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<b>SHADDAP, EMILY! </b></div>
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<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii1GLjK3Udd7IwFhL6AGFZvI-LbxZpTZ2nzsf8ZDCp1ntaInAGGvaZSrr0nOv1Z87CchGYX7mSIx8hY4DfEjGGmrN-CSgz1JRc6NByB-TeksJqqr6KAFtMRd3McksyvwJzuoQVQhl7dGk/s1600/IMG_0288.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii1GLjK3Udd7IwFhL6AGFZvI-LbxZpTZ2nzsf8ZDCp1ntaInAGGvaZSrr0nOv1Z87CchGYX7mSIx8hY4DfEjGGmrN-CSgz1JRc6NByB-TeksJqqr6KAFtMRd3McksyvwJzuoQVQhl7dGk/s640/IMG_0288.JPG" width="640" /></a></b></div>
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On a personal level, I don't really care what people think of me. I really and sincerely don't. The above screed is my own way of saying.... what the hell is going on, kids? Why can't anyone have a decent conversation about this topic without flinging blame around and making ugly comments? How is it that this society, that we seem to think is so fucking enlightened, still makes excuses for criminals and the people who cover for them? </div>
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I'm going to end this with a pretty picture - the money shot that everyone who goes to Yellowstone tries to get. Gorgeous, right? </div>
Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-34590863970629218602013-03-21T16:23:00.000-05:002013-03-21T16:26:18.277-05:00It's been too long. But I'm back!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNlsJrDMBemEZhUwo_3aT5w00ep-CnmaDk5-LIGn99YICRsGasbTOd1FzeV1oSWI1fSt-f9SY2QyOlviiukkDM4St7OVhhP10n_6Op1Zyr50dEkSzoEiqjG7ooqgLrDRKxopncV6_mNUU/s1600/IMG_0091.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNlsJrDMBemEZhUwo_3aT5w00ep-CnmaDk5-LIGn99YICRsGasbTOd1FzeV1oSWI1fSt-f9SY2QyOlviiukkDM4St7OVhhP10n_6Op1Zyr50dEkSzoEiqjG7ooqgLrDRKxopncV6_mNUU/s320/IMG_0091.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
(Photograph copyright December, 2012, all rights reserved)<br />
<br />
All righty then....<br />
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I'm back, as promised. I can see that it's been well over a year since my last post and all I can say is mea culpa for those that missed me. That's IF anyone missed me, of course. Since I am proud to tell you that Cary Tennis deleted a bunch of my comments, I figure that I really am back and on top form.<br />
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I wish I could say there's been a specific reason for my lack of posts, but I can't. The last year has been rather....fraught. It's been a lesson in how nostalgia is a Bad Thing for me, and something I should never indulge in. I withdrew from just about everything but my art for awhile, while I kicked myself in the backside for getting sucked in to all of the same old shit.<br />
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Yup. Time to stop kicking myself and start kicking stupid LWs..... Look for the originals in the usual place - Prudie's Thursday column on Slate.com.<br />
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SHADDAP!!</h3>
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<b>1. </b>So. Where to start with your stupid, LW? </div>
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You are adopted, like millions of other people. You have convinced yourself that, having attained the age of almost half a century without, you MUST "know" your biomom. You wrote letters. You phoned her and harassed her. You threatened to tell her family who you are. You even threatened to hunt down your biofather and smacked her in the face with that, too. </div>
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<b>SHADDAP! </b></div>
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What the fuck is your problem, you moron? </div>
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Why are you torturing this woman? Do you hate your adoptive parents that much? You don't mention them anywhere in your letter, so I'm assuming that either they were horrid people or you're just a silly bitch that doesn't know how good you had it. </div>
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This kind of selfish shit really bothers me. You don't know anything about the woman who gave birth to you. You don't know if she was raped and got pregnant. You don't know that your biofather isn't her own father, even. Has it occurred to you that you don't know what her family is like? That they might make her life hell because of you? Did you consider the likelihood that the only people who even knew that she gave birth to you are dead of old age? You don't know how awful that phase in her life really was and apparently, you don't care. </div>
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WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! You shout. I DESEEEEEEEEEEEEEERVE to know my MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMY!</div>
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Idiot. You had a mother. She is the lady that raised your ungrateful ass. She CHOSE to adopt you and raise you and SHE is the one that you should be focused on right now. Instead, you go charging into the life of a total stranger, demanding all of her attention, and blackmailing her into being in contact with you, <i>even though she doesn't want to know you at all</i>! </div>
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Medical records are a bullshit excuse for forcing contact on someone. You are almost 50 years old. If something genetic was wrong with you, believe me, you'd have known it a hell of a long time ago. The only thing you're showing now that might be genetic is the asshole gene.</div>
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She didn't answer your letters. She told you she didn't want to talk to you. She is frightened that you will choose to destroy the life that she's spent almost five decades building and YOU KNOW THIS. Why would you choose to harm this woman who did nothing but give birth to you? You are only here on this planet because of her, so why do you think you have the right to scare her and destroy who knows how many relationships she has with her own family?</div>
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If I were your biological mother, I would call the police. I would report you as a stalker - because that is how you're behaving. That would only be the first step. The second would be to get a restraining order against you. Then I would warn my family about you. By the time I finished with you, everyone I knew would know that you're an insane bitch-stalker-person and to stay far, far away from you. </div>
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You don't have a "right" to know this woman. You don't have a "right" to interfere with her life. You don't have a "right" to any kind of relationship with her extended family, either. THEY ARE NOT YOUR FAMILY. You already have a family. If you don't like them, then it sucks to be you.</div>
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If this garbage you're pulling is because you don't like what you've done with your own life, then get over yourself. </div>
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Take the hint. Leave these people alone. </div>
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<b>2. </b>Awwwwwwwwwwwwww, poor ickle babykins! How rough your life is! </div>
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You are 31 years old. You are studying to be a veterinarian. You finally wised up and dumped the guy who's been treating you like a fuckpuppet for who knows how long. </div>
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These things tell me that you are not stupid. At least in terms of IQ. </div>
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Prudie was right, though. You ARE an entitled silly bitch. </div>
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<b>SHADDAP!</b></div>
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You are dating the guy your parents always told you to hunt for. I'm guessing you stalked the poor bastard like an innocent gazelle, pouncing at the first opportunity because you've told yourself that he is the farthest thing from your former loser boyfriend that you can think of. But you don't like the guy. </div>
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You have no chemistry with this man, and his looks are a deal breaker for you (which says more about you than anything else), and you will never love him. So what is your problem? Are you keeping him around so you can show him off to the people who have been telling you that the previous idiot was...well...an idiot? </div>
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You say, as if it's no fault of your own, "...isn't passion and attraction an essential ingredient to a healthy relationship?"</div>
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Gee, shithead, ya think? How dare you! You are letting this nice man think that you are sincerely interested in him, and you know darn well all along that you're nothing but a liar, stringing him along until the next bad boy dampens your panties for you. </div>
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You say, "....I'm scared my family will love him so much I will be pressured into marrying him."</div>
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What are you, nine? Get over yourself. If your family can still "make" you do things you don't want to do, YOU'RE the one with the problem, not them.</div>
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Then you pop out with this little gem, "How do I improve a man without demoralizing his ego?"</div>
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Seriously? You don't get to change people. He is an adult. He is fully cooked. He has a life, and he likes it. </div>
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You're STILL contemplating marrying this man that you are not sexually attracted to and don't respect? I've got news for you, sugar. If you really wanted to spend your life with this man, you wouldn't even notice his hair - because it's nothing more than a part of who he is. You wouldn't give a damn about his exercise habits, because you'd respect him as a human being enough to know that people who truly love each other can't be identical in all ways. </div>
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Advice? You want advice? Break up with this guy and let him find someone who loves him. You aren't it. At the rate you're going, NO man with a lick of sense would go near you with a barge pole.</div>
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<b>3.</b> Ok. I have to admit that I read this letter more than once. Frankly, I couldn't finish it the first time because I was laughing so hard. I suspected that Prudie had found some ancient letter from the '60s or '70s from some village idiot who had decided to go "back to the earth" and give birth squatting in a dirt-floored yurt in someone's back yard, right next to the outhouse, conveniently located next to the chicken coop. </div>
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But no. You're serious. You truly think that it's a good idea to force nine-year-old girl that isn't even your own child to watch you give birth. You think that seeing the blood, the crying, the yelling, the doctors, the whole nine yards will somehow be "beneficial" for your stepdaughter. </div>
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Hoo boy. Where to start with this one....</div>
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<b>SHADDAP! </b></div>
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This is not your child. You don't get to make the decision as to whether she's in the room or not when you give birth. She HAS a mother, who apparently has more sense than either you or her ex-husband and can absolutely veto this stupid plan. Her mother even offered to go along with it...provided she was in the room to explain things to her daughter and leave the room if the kid gets upset. </div>
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Is that good enough for you? Nooooooooooooo....you're worse than any bridezilla. It has to be your way or no way at all? I don't think so, kid. </div>
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I'm tempted to remind you that for many generations...and we're talking HUNDREDS of generations, not just in the last 50 years or so, children got kicked out of the house when Mommy was giving birth. Even the most primitive tribes still do that. There is zero evidence that any children's sibling relationships were damaged by not seeing their sibs pop out of the cave in person, as it were. </div>
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I'm also tempted to tell you that I can see only one benefit to having your stepdaughter watch a birth.... It's probably the best form of birth control on the planet. I can't think of anything more revolting for a kid to watch than a blood-smeared, howling infant pop out of a blood-smeared howling, sweating woman who isn't even her own mother. Having seen that, there is no damned way she'll ever want to go through it herself.</div>
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This is aside from the fact that things don't always go well in the delivery room. Prudie was bang right on that one. Watching Stepmommie give birth to her dead brother or sister? That really makes you one sick bitch. </div>
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Leave this alone. When you are in labor, call the child's mother to take her home. She can go to the hospital AFTER you've had some sleep and her baby sibling is all pink and clean and cute, and all that stuff. </div>
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<b>4. </b>There isn't a lot here. Prudie said it all. Becoming umbrage-taking-girl isn't going to get you far in business...and might just get you fired. Grow the fuck up, take your lumps, and do better next time.</div>
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______________________________</div>
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So that's it for this week, folks. I have to add a note on adoption, for all the people who are going to crap on my answer. </div>
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My brother and sister are both adopted. He was born in 1968, she was born in 1965. This was an era when adoptions were closed. They were handled by the Province (we're Canadian), through the foster system and there were no records available to adoptive parents other than a very basic profile (for example, my brother's biomom was 16 when she had him and had come from Romania originally), the date of birth, and the hospital he was born in. </div>
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This was never an issue for them. They never gave it a ton of thought. </div>
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In the '80s, the laws changed. Adoptions were no longer entirely closed. A registry was set up so that the biological parents and adopted kids could register with their information IF they were interested in contacting each other. This worked extraordinarily well. See, they were only put in contact if BOTH parties wanted to meet. </div>
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At the time, my mother put together all the information either of them needed to register if they wanted to. They chose not to register. It just wasn't that important to either of them. They still aren't interested. I don't think that's going to change.</div>
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The LW this week has an attitude that is increasingly common, and I find it very disturbing. Much focus has been placed on adopted children and their "rights" to know their biological parents. Nowhere is there any mention of what the biological parents' rights are. These women CHOSE to give up their children. No one does this lightly or for no good reason. For whatever reason, they wanted their kids to grow up in another place. Maybe where they were was unsafe. Maybe they couldn't support their babies. </div>
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Whatever the reason for the adoption, these women have the absolute right NOT to be in contact with the children they gave up, if that is their choice. They have the right to refuse contact without being judged for it. Their rights are just as important as anyone else's, and their choices deserve our respect. </div>
Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-27616937258921102812011-12-22T15:16:00.000-06:002011-12-22T15:16:59.731-06:00Grow The F%@k Up!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjshLUTbk6yBVn7ACaL_H847RNZMbAYMzupAnJTPeyBPLH5C1hmODJyCMEd1MyrTtusksGBVlM6riEMMyFCehq1nKynCEcHiujpH1gRmqcl382BGXqxaTo4HOIh7_jLN-OP7PDUG15n_FU/s1600/FL000014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjshLUTbk6yBVn7ACaL_H847RNZMbAYMzupAnJTPeyBPLH5C1hmODJyCMEd1MyrTtusksGBVlM6riEMMyFCehq1nKynCEcHiujpH1gRmqcl382BGXqxaTo4HOIh7_jLN-OP7PDUG15n_FU/s400/FL000014.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)<br />
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Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Happy Solstice! Joyeux Noel! ..... I can't cover every single holiday. Happy December!<br />
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The days are getting longer, and thank goodness for that. I hate waking up in the dark, coming home in the dark, and all of the gloomy days of winter. Granted, The City Of Wind has had an exceptionally mild winter so far, but winter-climate people are not sanguine about what the rest of the season is going to be like. If you smile and comment on how nice it it outside, you are greeted with scowls and dire predictions about the four feet of snow that are going to fall all at once on January 1st, starting at the crack of midnight.<br />
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I just don't care. I'll take it a day at a time, and every day spent not shovelling snow is a good one as far as I'm concerned.<br />
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We have no tree this year. Instead, we're off to see the in-laws, and a lovely time it's promising to be. Still, I felt compelled to include a photo of a tree at least, so here it is. I thought I'd show you just why it is we can't used the pretty glass decorations any more. Nini is tree-obsessed. She's stopped climbing it now, but all ornaments that are up to three feet off the floor are now fair game.<br />
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They play whiffle ball with the steel bells. They leap feet in the air to grab the anodized aluminum twirly icicles that I got from Lee Valley Tool (you should go to their site, they have the coolest stuff). I bought a bunch of stuffed-toy ornaments last year and Charlie appropriated one of them to be his woogie. It is his personal teddy bear and woe betide the person or cat that defiles the woogie by say, picking it up....<br />
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It's hilarious.<br />
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However, we soldier on. The tree has changed, the venue changes regularly and the world continues to rotate. We must be doing something right, because it's all fun. Too bad this week's writers to Prudie are all a bunch of assholes (see my last column for an explanation of that term)<br />
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However:<br />
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<b>1. </b>Oh boo hoo! When you were an iddle bitty baby you sat under YOUR tree in YOUR house with YOUR brother and opened presents and it was all Norman Rockwelly and everyone obeyed your little whims so you wouldn't throw a screaming tantrum if one detail changed.....<br />
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Christmas Eve is being celebrated at what you call your sister-in-law's house (as if your brother doesn't live there), her family is going to be there, and your parents think this is a terrific idea. Your parents hosted them once, last year you saw them again, and all this makes you "...so mad about it that it makes me cry."<br />
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You go on to say that "Christmas Eve has been ruined!" You're even threatening not to celebrate this year....<br />
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<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
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What do you want? Do you want to go home, put on your Rudolph jammies, leave cookies and milk out for Santa and then have Mommy tuck you into your crib with a teddy and your bot bot? Do you expect your parents to be waiting, fully dressed, for you to come downstairs in the morning and serve you coffee and pancakes while you play in the shredded paper, ignoring your presents? Are you still adding to your Barbie collection?<br />
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Grow the fuck up, sister.<br />
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How dare you try and dictate how two entire families celebrate Christmas! You arrogant little shit. Your brother's in-laws have made what I consider to be a superhuman effort to include everyone in HIS family at their Christmas party because they love him and they want him to be happy. They're going out of their way to create traditions that don't force this couple to travel all over Hell's half acre every year just so they can see both sets of parents.<br />
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It's clear that your parents don't have a problem with this. In fact, I'm betting that they're both relieved that they don't have to cater to your childish fantasies any more. Has it occurred to you that THEY might want a break in routine?<br />
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Actually, your family relationships are a little warped in your own head, aren't they? You whine because one Christmas was spent at your sister-in-law's house. What the hell is that, little girl? That is your brother's home. It's his house as well. Or are you still harboring fantasies that you can break them up and he'll just come running home to your little cocoon?<br />
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Go, don't go, nobody cares. Not your parents, not your brother, not his in-laws... In fact, they'd probably jump for joy if they knew that the family wet blanket wasn't going to be there. That way no one has to apologize for your appalling behavior.<br />
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<b>2. </b> Families are weird, aren't they? We all have a family member that we don't want to deal with. It could be a bitchy aunt, a drunk uncle, a weird cousin, a mean rotten brother.<br />
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And this is the dilemma facing you. Your brother has been a truly ghastly person for most of your life. He said and did things that were so rotten, so evil, that you finally cut off all contact. When he married, it just got worse. The whole family took the brunt of his foul temper and nasty remarks. His nastygrams became legendary...<br />
<br />
But wait. He divorced. He's trying to make nice. He sent you presents. You don't know what to do. I don't blame you.<br />
<br />
No SHADDAPS for you.<br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
You're overthinking this. Your parents and sister may have accepted your brother back into their lives, but you don't trust him. Who could blame you for that?<br />
<br />
It sounds to me like your brother had a problem with drugs or alcohol, or maybe there's some mental illness involved. Could he be bipolar? You don't know. He sounds contrite, and he may very well be trying to apologize, but you don't have to take everything at face value.<br />
<br />
If he's in some sort of substance abuse program, there's an exercise that they have to do. It's lifted right out of the AA playbook and involves apologizing to everyone they've hurt with their problems. A good counselor will have told him that not everyone is going to accept this from him. He's hurt you deeply - he can't expect forgiveness for everything.<br />
<br />
I understand that you'd like to believe him. You don't have to dive in to a relationship with your brother all at once. He sent gifts, so send him a lovely card thanking him and (like Prudie says) wishing him well. That's all you need to do . He doesn't have any right to expect that you'll believe he's changed. He does not have the right to be allowed back in your life after one peacemaking gesture.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>3.</b> This letter was a load of trivial bullshit. You moved away from home, aren't even a token Catholic any more and now you don't want to go to Mass on Christmas Eve. You know you'll hurt your mother's feelings if you don't go.<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Grow the fuck up, you whiner!<br />
<br />
You know that your family goes to mass every single Christmas Eve. This was not a surprise. You knew when you got on that airplane to visit that this would be expected of you. So what? You want to all get together and play Candyland instead of going to one of the two religious services a year that your parents find important?<br />
<br />
You petty bitch!<br />
<br />
You think your parents were thrilled to go to your piano (or whatever) recitals year after year and listen to dozens of little kids plinking away at "Three Blind Mice"? Do you think they had nothing better to do than go to your soccer (or whatever) games just to watch you warm the bench for a couple of hours? Were you such an angel that you only brought them joy and never, ever broke stuff, barfed all night, had screaming tantrums, and whatever else kids do that drive their parents bananas?<br />
<br />
Where the hell do you get off thinking that you should be able to tell them what to do on a holiday that they celebrate?<br />
<br />
Your parents' home is no longer "your house". It's theirs. THEY are generously hosting you for the holidays and you are a guest in THEIR home. They don't have to do it, either. It doesn't matter if they're your parents, they celebrate in a certain way, you knew that going in, and you don't get to whine about it now. It's called "being polite". No one gives a rat's ass what you think about religion in general or the Church specifically. Not your parents, not the priest, not the other congregants...NO ONE cares about your little, piffling rant.<br />
<br />
You want advice? Shut the fuck up. Go to Mass for an hour. Smile. Shake hands if it's expected. About half the congregation won't be taking communion, so sit quietly while others do. Go home after Christmas and do whatever the hell you want next year.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>4. </b>Ooh, you're a prize, aren't you? What a couple of petty bitches you and your sister are! An aunt and uncle who you only see once a year send you a gift of $30.00 every Christmas and you don't like it?<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP! </b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Grr. This is a two-SHADDAP letter! You want to tell these kind and generous people who have never done anything but good things for you that you don't want their presents any more? It's crappy enough that you'd even consider saying that out loud, but your reason just sends me around the twist.<br />
<br />
You don't want to bother sending a card thanking them.<br />
<br />
Grow the fuck up. Both of you.<br />
<br />
Where do you get off, planning to hurt the feelings of these two lovely people? What have they ever done to you that you can justify deliberately being nasty to them?<br />
<br />
You claim to be adults, so act the part. Have a package of "Thank You" cards in your desk at home at all times. ALL adults should have one of these. If you don't, go buy some. Use the $30.00 that you don't need, idiot. Write a short note:<br />
<br />
"Dear Auntie ___ and Uncle___<br />
<br />
Thank you so much for your gift. I used it to take a friend out to lunch and we had a lovely time.<br />
<br />
I hope your holiday was enjoyable.<br />
<br />
Signed<br />
<br />
Snotty bitch"<br />
<br />
It takes mere minutes. As one poster pointed out, it takes less time than you took to whine to Prudie. Get over yourselves.<br />
<br />
<br />
_______________________________________________________<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Yeesh. Holidays always bring out the whining, the bitching, the petty bickering, don't they? I think I need to make some rules for attending Christmas gatherings in other peoples' homes....<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>1.</b> <b>SHADDAP! </b>Whatever arguments, hurt feelings or whining you've been itching to do on the holidays, DON'T. You chose to go to someone's home for Christmas, even if it's your parents house, and you owe them basic good manners. That means swallowing offense sometimes. Deal.<br />
<br />
<b>2.</b> Don't take any crap. I know this sounds like it conflicts with Rule 1, but hear me out. If the holidays are unbearable with your family, then don't go. Some of us were abused, some of us get picked at and compared unfavorably to others, some just dread the thought of going to *that place* on Christmas.<br />
<br />
You have my permission to opt out. The first time, this is difficult. You'll feel strange doing it. Make an excuse, say you have plans and then make the plans. You'll be amazed at how good it feels. Trust me on this.<br />
<br />
<b>3.</b> Don't bring up old arguments just because everyone's in the same room together and a couple of glasses of wine make you feel like it.<br />
<br />
<b>4.</b> You aren't a kid any more. You don't have the right to expect or demand that everything go the way you think it should, just because it was *always that way before*. Life means change.<br />
<br />
<b>5.</b> No matter how silly or useless the present is, thank the person who gave it to you.<br />
<br />
My Auntie Rose, who was my great-grandmother's youngest sister, used to send me a pink sweater every year for Christmas. She did this because I was a platinum blond baby and she thought pink was perfect. It was perfect, when I was a platinum blond baby. My hair rapidly changed to a ginger/mouse combination and my eyes ended up being the color of a Sprite bottle and pink was just...bad on me. Still is.<br />
<br />
I said nothing. Every year, I gave my pink sweater to my younger sister, who had very dark hair and bright blue eyes and loved pink. She kept the blue sweater she got, too. Usually they were too small for me. Then I sat down and sent Auntie Rose a card, thanking her for my gift. I'm glad I did. She was a dear, lovely lady who had a tough life. I hope that card brought her a little happiness. I only wish I was getting a pink sweater to re-gift this year.<br />
<br />
<b>6.</b> Don't bitch about the food. There's nothing worse than inviting some idiot over who spends an entire evening babbling on about how THEIR mom cooked the turkey and how THEY really missed having apple pie for dinner.<br />
<br />
Making dinner for a crowd is hard work. LOTS of hard work. If you don't like something keep your mouth shut and don't eat it.<br />
<br />
<b>7.</b> Dress for the occasion. No one expects evening wear (ok, some do, most don't), but you don't get to show up in sweats or manky jeans and a food-stained sweatshirt for Christmas dinner. Wear clean clothing. If you wear jeans, don't pick the ones with the hole in the ass. No one needs to see that. Wear proper shoes. Shower in the morning (some don't, you know). Comb your hair. Brush your teeth. Be presentable.<br />
<br />
<b>8.</b> ALWAYS bring a hostess gift. It doesn't have to be expensive. Some lovely paper cocktail napkins, maybe. Chocolate is always a winner. Wine always good, but there's an etiquette to that. Any wine you bring will probably NOT be consumed at dinner. It's a gift, after all. The menu is already set, and you don't get to change it.<br />
<br />
<b>9.</b> Be polite. Say "please" and "thank you". Don't shout. Listen without interrupting when someone is speaking to you and respond only when they're done speaking. Sit up straight. Chew with your mouth closed. Don't belch at the table. Don't take your teeth out where anyone can see you. Try to contain your farts until you make it to the bathroom. Offer to help carry things. What have I missed?<br />
<br />
You'd think I wouldn't have to tell adults these things, but you'd be amazed at how many don't know this stuff.<br />
<br />
<b>10.</b> Thank your host. Thank them when you leave, then send them a nice card thanking them for your hospitality when you get home. ALWAYS do this. Your hosts went to a lot of time, trouble and expense to host you and yours and they deserve to be thanked. So do it.<br />
<br />
_____________________________________________________<br />
<br />
Happy Holidays, All!<br />
<br />
I'll see you in the New Year.Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-38930785386847722412011-12-09T15:16:00.001-06:002011-12-09T15:18:44.450-06:00Out Pop the Assholes! They're Everywhere!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-wl2GgxIvWMrIg8PYYVZWTXK1mRLf5CO7UDC7gkK5Yccw0A-iBlTF1nmwppQMaEkkXbJfNoISs8sQVCW9pZaTDKjJj8Ql1x8YGUtJXR-Ud9ZCtdMth5DXdyLd3uLFDbqmMGCAKZsw3Gs/s1600/P1000242.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-wl2GgxIvWMrIg8PYYVZWTXK1mRLf5CO7UDC7gkK5Yccw0A-iBlTF1nmwppQMaEkkXbJfNoISs8sQVCW9pZaTDKjJj8Ql1x8YGUtJXR-Ud9ZCtdMth5DXdyLd3uLFDbqmMGCAKZsw3Gs/s640/P1000242.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br />
(Photograph copyright November 2011, all rights reserved.)<br />
<br />
<br />
I know, I know. I've been promising a new post for weeks and nothing's been happening. Well, the photo shows where I was for one of those weeks, anyway. Yes, that is the Eiffel Tower. The Boy and I spent Thanksgiving in Paris, and it was the best ever. I love that town! I also got to meet Marcparis of Fray fame, and I have to thank him so much for taking me out for the best chocolate in the world. The man is a sweetheart.<br />
<br />
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
I also had an adventure this week. I went to the dentist for a simple cleaning on Wednesday morning. No big deal. It takes an hour at most. I planned on heading off to class afterwards provided I didn't need any work done. Then (cue mournful violins) when I got there, someone had decided to fill the air with multiple cheap scented candles.<br />
<br />
Now I know the media LOVES to shove scented candles at people. Celebrity profiles always seem to have a "favorite things" list, and there's a goddamned candle on every single one. Stores put the foul-smelling things right on the front display, right where they can make my nose run and my eyes pour water. Clearly I'm not the only one, either. There always seems to be a jumbo pack of tissue somewhere on the display. Two minutes after getting in the door, I look like I've been on a three day drunk and I know I'll be popping Benadryl for days.<br />
<br />
This was the worst, though. THIS particular aromatic hydrocarbon-infused petroleum-based bewicked vessel was spewing something worse than natural gas emissions. Dirty coal power plants spew less vileness in the air than these things did. I've smelled skunk, rotten egg, and decomposing rat, and they are ALL less disgusting than that candle. One woman was sitting in the waiting room with her scarf over her entire face. Another was green-complected and looked as though she was contemplating a dash to the toilet.<br />
<br />
I got a migraine. The fourth in my life. I've seldom felt as foul as I did when I got home. I didn't stay for my cleaning. I rescheduled the appointment and literally ran out the door, where I spent two light changes inhaling exhaust fumes to get the burning reek of those "candles" out of my nose.<br />
<br />
So here it's Friday, and I've almost recovered from the headache. Almost. It's still lurking there, behind my left eye. Waiting for someone to assault the world with another fucking rotten goddamned stinking vile candle-like object to reappear in its migrainish agonizing glory, causing me to take massive doses of painkillers and lock myself in my (clean, fragrance-free) home for another couple of days.<br />
<br />
A word of advice. Leave the cheap-ass candles in the store. The expensive ones are just as bad. If you use them people assume things. They wonder if you have a mold problem that you're covering up. They wonder if you have a garbage fetish and it's all stored in your bedroom, so you need to cover the stench. They wonder if your cooking is so vile that the smell of phony gardenias is actually better. They wonder if the dog has been allowed to pee all over the house........<br />
<br />
Now for the letters. Prudie really cacked it up this week. Why am I not surprised?<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>1.</b> Your husband left you for your 25-year-old daughter. You are understandably "...heartbroken, betrayed, and furious..." . All perfectly normal. I'd be worried if you weren't feeling these things. Now,<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP! </b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Prudie told you that your daughter is probably mentally ill and will come running to Mommy (that would be you), groveling for forgiveness sometime in the future.... Well... bullshit, Prudie.<br />
<br />
See, there's a difference between being mentally ill and being an asshole. Assholism is a character flaw, NOT an illness. It can't be cured. If a kid makes it to adulthood and behaves like an asshole, then all hope is gone. Once an asshole, always an asshole. Some mentally ill people can ALSO be assholes, and the asshole part of things will most assuredly remain even if the mental illness is medicated away.<br />
<br />
Nice people can give birth to assholes. Nice parents are often gobsmacked when they realize that they've spawned an asshole and will spend decades blaming themselves for it, but the simple truth is that assholery is born in the blood. Generations can pass and no assholes will show up in a family, then *WHAM*, along comes a prize asshole, right when no one was expecting it.<br />
<br />
So LW, you both married and gave birth to a pair of assholes. I know Prudie was trying to preserve some sort of motherly feeling with her "mental illness" schtick, but that's too bad. There's nothing wrong with your daughter OR your soon-to-be ex husband that any form of mental health therapy will fix.<br />
<br />
Feel free not to speak to either of these people, ever again. Communicate through lawyers. Don't let them in your house, tell them never to contact you again, even when the divorce happens. There will be a split between these two assholes in the future. Your daughter isn't going to stay young forever, and it sounds like your ex has a thing for younger women...as well as women who are assholes.<br />
<br />
Time and counselling for YOU are the only things that will abate your agony over the asshole behavior of the two assholes that you were unfortunate enough to be related to. Nurture your anger for awhile - at least as long as it takes to divorce the first asshole and get the second one out of your life.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>2.</b> Your daughter has a Grabby Grandad that grabs her at every opportunity and won't let go. You wonder if it's all right to put a stop to this?<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
There's a lot of other stuff in your letter. Your in-laws expect to be worshipped, they treat you like crap, even your husband doesn't like them, and so on. Shit like this happens to other people, so you're not alone in any of it.<br />
<br />
However.<br />
<br />
Your in-laws are assholes. See above.<br />
<br />
People have already told you not to take this bullshit any more. They've already said that you have to make your husband deal with his parents. They're right, but they don't go far enough.<br />
<br />
Tell your daughter (five now, right?), that if she doesn't want to go near Grabby Grandad, she doesn't have to. EVER. No matter what anyone might tell her, she has every right to never be touched by him again. Tell her that if she feels even slightly uncomfortable, she is to say "no" as loud as she wants to and to run to where you are. You have to defend her. YOU are the one that has to be her gatekeeper.<br />
<br />
If anyone says a word to you, tell them to piss off. Use those words.<br />
<br />
Now that that's settled, you must tell your husband that you will not permit these people in your house. Tell him also that you will not be taking your child over to their place, either. Tell him (are you getting that I'm not saying the word "ask"?) that if there are to be visits, your daughter will be with YOU at all times, supervised and never left alone with either grandparent.<br />
<br />
See? Easy!<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>3.</b> Yadda yadda yadda. Yap skawk, bitch, complain, whine........ your girlfriend's stepfather paints nude portraits of her and it squicks you out. Whatever.<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Listen asshole, YOU are the only one that has a problem with this. You say she's your long-term girlfriend, so I'm assuming that she's a nice lady with no issues. LISTEN to her.<br />
<br />
YOU are the one with the issues. Did you think that you're the only person who's ever going to see her without a long sleeved shirt in her life? Deal with it. Your girlfriend has been and probably will continue to be a nude model. It's a tradition of the art world. Suck it up.<br />
<br />
If you're going to continue being an asshole over this, don't be surprised if you suddenly end up single, with only other assholes for company.<br />
<br />
Now get lost, kid. You bother me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>4.</b> You have your blankie. Your boyfriend says that's gross and wants you to get rid of it.<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Your boyfriend is an asshole. Your blankie is none of his damned business and if you want to have it around you, then go for it.<br />
<br />
I have a manky old worn-out ugly brown sweater that I put on when I'm stressed out. It's oversized and very soft and it's never going to be seen in public, but it's mine and I need it sometimes. The Boy still has his blankie in the closet. When he's sick with a cold or the flu, only the blankie is good enough to cover him up on the couch. I also still have my first teddy bear, and HE gets hauled out to use as a pillow when I get sick.<br />
<br />
These are all normal things. Just about everyone has something like this. Here's what you tell your boyfriend:<br />
<br />
"Hey asshole, shut up about the blankie! This is not a discussion, I'm telling you to shut up about the blankie."<br />
<br />
If he persists, he's proving that he's more invested in being an asshole than a boyfriend. Let him meet up at the asshole bar with LW #3.<br />
<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
My dentist did call yesterday afternoon to apologize and promises that on the days when I have to come in, there will be no candle. Thank goodness for that! He's a great dentist.Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-29148982239863039812011-10-20T18:33:00.001-05:002011-10-21T08:04:32.997-05:00Dumb Broads, Dumb Broads.....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrXx8AcSMTiQ5MDPp0gfR-LAQl0UwtJzs1xia8dE9Kita8KQ9odeIf6-Ilx2xj8jx1mGl715L-qlC0jKe78J1jvVMJm9oVqERBjBpMKKaf7Wr8V7J-sYK8bicmwz80arRLe5DwvvpdQ4M/s1600/IMG_2703.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrXx8AcSMTiQ5MDPp0gfR-LAQl0UwtJzs1xia8dE9Kita8KQ9odeIf6-Ilx2xj8jx1mGl715L-qlC0jKe78J1jvVMJm9oVqERBjBpMKKaf7Wr8V7J-sYK8bicmwz80arRLe5DwvvpdQ4M/s640/IMG_2703.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjLdJgjXoNw7b9nwYKkrgGmTJU1kck2rv454I5EpaKECKSSEJl2wp8t54mOJ4fa3Uwqe4l0e3DBnjydEaLaIZDj5H3Mz6SFF4mHk5UOtv0n0kcsxs7RS98BaOcw_w51VDRxzyLx7P_E7o/s1600/IMG_2728.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjLdJgjXoNw7b9nwYKkrgGmTJU1kck2rv454I5EpaKECKSSEJl2wp8t54mOJ4fa3Uwqe4l0e3DBnjydEaLaIZDj5H3Mz6SFF4mHk5UOtv0n0kcsxs7RS98BaOcw_w51VDRxzyLx7P_E7o/s640/IMG_2728.JPG" width="548" /></a></div><br />
(Photographs copyright 2011, all rights reserved.)<br />
<br />
Well, it's a gray old day in the City of Wind. The temperature is low, it's raining and dark, and this morning the wind was so bad that people were being warned to stay away from Lakeshore Drive because the waves were coming up on to the freeway. No kidding. Keep in mind that Lakeshore is a major part of many, many people's commute.<br />
<br />
I know this is a precursor to winter. I know that snow will be here sooner than anyone wants. I also know that by tomorrow, the nasty part of the weather will go away, the temperature will rise, and life will be good again.<br />
<br />
Lest anyone wonder about my suspiciously good mood - some of you are well acquainted with my loathing of all things winter - consider the photos above. They are recent, taken on my first trip to the Brookfield Zoo, and I only went there after almost six years of living here because my good and trusty friend from Texas was here and she wanted to go.<br />
<br />
It was a good decision. She is one smart lady. Given that the day is so gray and dreary, I figured that some color was called for. I'm pretty pleased with these pictures. Thanks to an excellent zoom feature and very fast shutter speeds, they turned out pretty well. The fish is about 1 1/2 inches long and was at the other end of a large aquarium. What's not to love?<br />
<br />
Sigh. But now I have to confront the stupid. Find the letters <a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/life/dear_prudence/2011/10/adoption_i_want_my_sister_to_keep_her_child.html">here</a> (Ok Slate, you win, you bastards. I can't believe you won't allow me to post the link.)<br />
<br />
Kids - go to the link above, click on "life", then go to "Dear Prudence". Sorry about the link. Grrr.<br />
<br />
Ahem.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>1. </b> To summarize (for those that don't want to follow the intensely overcomplicated link).... This LW's 21-year-old college student sister is pregnant, and the baby is going to be put up for adoption. The LW is bitter. She says that their parents are well off, little sis's education is being paid for, and therefore she should keep the baby, giving it over to the LW for "babysitting". But the following statement tells all:<br />
<br />
"After all, she got herself into this mess, and it doesn't seem fair that she just gets to put up the child for adoption and resume her life."<br />
<br />
So, here goes:<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP! you stupid bitch!</b><br />
<br />
See, I know where you're coming from....<br />
<br />
You're still stinging because when YOU got knocked up and quit college to marry your swain, YOU never went back. I'm guessing the marriage was a hideous mistake, you resent your children for trapping you into a motherhood that you weren't ready for, and now you want to take that out on your sister, who is far more a grownup than you'll ever be.<br />
<br />
I'm right, aren't I? See, you didn't have the intestinal fortitude or the maturity that your sister has. You never considered adoption because you thought (like most dummies that should never reproduce) that having a baby would be the perfect toy for you to trap your man and never work again. Too bad you didn't even consider that babies are not toys and the guys you sleep with when you're very young are almost never the ones you want to stay with for the rest of your life.....<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP! again!</b><br />
<br />
You want to punish your sister because you were too stupid, too gutless, too selfish to do what she's doing. Believe me, the decision to give up this child is tearing her apart. I can't imagine how hard this is for her. Hopefully your parents are better people than you are. No doubt they're hideously embarrassed to think that, in spite of their best efforts, they've raised a self-righteous shrew.<br />
<br />
Your sister KNOWS she's doing the right thing. She's chosen an excellent couple raise her baby. When this is done, she'll be able to finish school, start a career, and have her future children with less stress and will be a better parent as a result. That is her absolute right, and she doesn't need your permission or approval on any of this.<br />
<br />
The LAST thing she needs is to have some self-righteous, bitter, ugly, stupid broad telling her what an awful person she is. And you would be just as nasty if she kept that baby, wouldn't you? Your sister can't win with you. Either you abuse her for making the hardest decision she's had to make in her life so far, or you can babysit her child and spend your time telling that child what a whore her mother is.<br />
<br />
Your sister has every right in the world to resume her life. If you had one yourself, you would know this.<br />
<br />
Get lost, dumbass. I hope your sister has enough sense to cut off all contact with you. Find something else to resent in your lonely, tedious life.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>2. </b>Sigh. Here we go again. A new-to-the-neighborhood kid is being bullied in Girl Scouts by the same girls that bully her at school. Mom confronts the troop leader who happens to be the parent of one of the nasty little shits. Troop leader blames new kid, and Mom APOLOGISES?<br />
<br />
WTF?<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Listen Mom, what the hell were you trying to accomplish? If it's to model wussy behavior, then you get a gold star! What's with that apology? Is that what you want to teach your daughter? "Crap on me and I'll cringe, pee on the floor, and make nice"? You aren't raising a submissive collie here, you're raising a LITTLE GIRL. What the hell kind of role model are you, anyway?<br />
<br />
Your husband is right. Tell your daughter (because it's the truth) that some people are just mean, and while they might not know any other way to behave, that is not your daughter's problem. It's all right to avoid these people and never speak to them again. She has the absolute right to choose her friends AND the right to choose who she won't try to befriend.<br />
<br />
Teach your daughter that nasty little shits like the girls that are bullying her are nasty little shits and that she doesn't have to listen to their crap. She can walk away and she NEVER should be made to try and "go along to get along". That way lies a lifetime of accepting whatever shit and abuse anyone wants to level on her. Model smart, tough behavior with the nasty little shits' parents and DON'T let anyone get away with hurting your child.<br />
<br />
Quit that Girl Scout troop, NOW. Call whatever governing body there is (I don't know these things, no kids.) and tell them exactly what's going on. In detail. Send copies of everything you send to everyone you can think of. Find another troop. Sign your daughter up IF and only if she wants to join.<br />
<br />
Deal with the school separately. Demand that classes be changed, that homerooms be changed, whatever it takes for your daughter to be comfortable. Go the the principal EVERY SINGLE TIME you find out about the bullying. Find out (if you can) what other girls are having problems with the nasty little shits and get their parents on board. I guarantee they're as angry as you are - maybe worse. Send every e-mail to the principal, to the School Board, and the Superintendent of Schools where you live. Don't allow yourself to be fobbed off on the phone.<br />
<br />
If you won't stand up for your daughter, she'll never learn to stand up for herself. Don't raise a little girl. Raise an independent woman.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>3. </b>And here's another woman who's choosing to embrace the stupid rather than make a fucking decision. to summarize:<br />
<br />
The LW works for a dentist who is completely off his rocker. He has panic attacks. He's paranoid and accuses his staff of stealing and being incompetent, he yells and screams and threatens suicide - IN FRONT OF HIS PATIENTS. The LW is wondering how to make the situation all nice and pretty without hurting the doctor's feelings...<br />
<br />
She sounds like one of the morons that write to Prudie (et al) saying something like: "My boyfriend is the bestest bestest boyfriend in the whole wide world and I loooooooooooooooooove him, but he - insert here - (a) ties me up and covers me with bacon in a room with his pit bulls before he goes to work every day, (b) used hot pokers to pierce my ears, (c) beats me with a stick every other Thursday, (d) screws my "best friend" in front of me..... Whatever. You get my gist.<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Listen, moron. Your boss is a nutter. Seriously. Are you going to wait until he brings a gun to work and starts shooting before you say something to someone? Really? How dumb are you? Believe me when I say he just doesn't care about his staff, his patients, or anything else right now....because HE'S A NUTTER. Barking mad. Insane. Riding the crazy cart. Whatever euphemism you choose. Fill in the blank.<br />
<br />
For all those people in the comment section of Slate who are recommending that you try and "help" this man, forget it. I see the usual suspects are already coming up with bullshit excuses and diagnoses for the guy. It doesn't matter. You got that? It doesn't matter if he's schizophrenic, bipolar, doing meth, or smoking crack. That is not your problem. In fact, your life would be easier if he just jumped off a high place and killed himself. NOT YOUR PROBLEM.<br />
<br />
You have a code of ethics, too. You have to go to his governing body and tell them what's going on. This man should not be out in public, let alone working on people's mouths. How are you going to feel when - because it feels like when, not if - he loses it and hurts someone and YOU could have stopped it?<br />
<br />
Here's what you do. Stop going to work. Now. Call and tell everyone you quit. NEVER go back there. Make them mail your check. I mean this. This guy is beyond just eccentric, he is actively nuts and potentially dangerous.<br />
<br />
Good dental hygienists are in demand and there are (phobias notwithstanding) a LOT of very nice dentists out there.<br />
<br />
Dumbass.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>4. </b>Ah yes... This woman writes that her husband and his brother habitually lie about their children's ages just so they can get into Disneyland on the cheap. She doesn't like it. She thinks it's stealing. She doesn't like what it's teaching the kids.<br />
<br />
Oy.<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
This IS stealing. It IS teaching the kids that stealing is all right. It IS a stupid thing to do. YOU ARE RIGHT, woman! So it's time to make a fucking decision, idiot!<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP! again....</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
So why are you still participating in this bullshit? Do you LIKE that your husband has decided to turn your child into a miniature larcenist? Is that all right with you?<br />
<br />
Get a fucking grip. Stop playing their game. Tell your husband that he's acting like a jackass and there will be no more trips to ANY amusement park if there's even a hint that he's going to do this again. Make damned sure he knows you mean this.<br />
<br />
If he DOES try this line of crap again, then calmly go up to the ticket booth, tell the nice person that your husband is joking, and PAY THEM. Duh. Point out to your idiot husband that if saving the money on ONE KID is that important, then it's clear you can't afford for anyone to go.<br />
<br />
Quit being such a fucking sissy and stand up for your kid.<br />
<br />
Idiot.<br />
<br />
<br />
-----------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Yeah, yeah I know. I'll save you the trouble of getting on my tits about how I should be "supportive" of all the others who share my gender. Give me a fucking break. If it were men that were screwing around making stupid (or no) decisions, I'd be as hard on them. You know this.<br />
<br />
Ah... Time to retire to a delicious dinner, a glass of wine, and a cat on my lap. Perfect therapy for miserable weather.Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-27681973541498846252011-09-29T18:04:00.000-05:002011-09-29T18:04:34.237-05:00SHADDAP! Grow The Heck Up Edition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigpussKPYoA-s5hGR-d3MD_fBeXoPnXkvzJ0u7_sQ_Y0pNghs4msdrDIhfZt4WR-YAUV8ybOVO166T08-81ezMepiYNlFGyknWzWSnjYjFqkdhEaYBPaiDUsOUUOL9IdoOFYVAfaZezyA/s1600/IMG_2390.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigpussKPYoA-s5hGR-d3MD_fBeXoPnXkvzJ0u7_sQ_Y0pNghs4msdrDIhfZt4WR-YAUV8ybOVO166T08-81ezMepiYNlFGyknWzWSnjYjFqkdhEaYBPaiDUsOUUOL9IdoOFYVAfaZezyA/s640/IMG_2390.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
(Photograph copyright 2011, all rights reserved.)<br />
<br />
<br />
Meet Sarah. She is the most reserved..... ok. Why gild the lily? She's schizy and skittish and all of those other adjectives that one would give to any kitty who runs and hides when the phone rings...but only sometimes. Sometimes, she can stare down the garbage truck and I'm sure she thinks she's terrorized it into going away. Other times, she hears it a block away and scoots upstairs to hide under the bed.<br />
<br />
The first couple of times the cat sitter came in when we were out of town, he says he didn't know we had a third cat. Now she shamelessly cadges treats and acts cute for him.<br />
<br />
We think there's a little Siamese in that gene pool, too. When she was about six months old, she started getting black hairs around her face and ears and she has a few black whiskers. Of course, she can be as silly as any cat. She also has a thing for riding on my shoulder. In her world, this means an endless hug and a chance to purr in my ear and nuzzle my chin. It was easier to let her do this when she weighed four pounds than now, when she tips in at eleven.<br />
<br />
What a don't get is why this bundle of solid muscle (she's scary-strong, just try to clip her toenails) who is faster than just about any cat I've ever seen lets the other two pick on her. They bug and bug and she takes it. Until..... Until it goes too far, or someone nips her tail or ear. Then she goes postal, chases the offender until they keel over panting and swats them three or four times for good measure.<br />
<br />
The moral? Well let's see. Everyone has a certain bullshit tolerance. Mine is as close to zero as I could get and still qualify as "human". My favorite quote is from (of all people) Judge Judy, "Don't pee on my leg and tell me it's raining". Sarah has a fairly high bullshit tolerance because she's a sweet girl. Even she has a breaking point, though and woe betide the one who exceeds it!<br />
<br />
(Find the letters here(ish):<br />
<br />
http://www.slate.com/articles/life/dear_prudence_my_abusive_mother_haunts_my_dreams_<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>1. </b> I have to say, I don't have a good SHADDAP! for you. You don't deserve one. You have been through an absolutely vile childhood that I wouldn't wish on anyone. Your mother sounds like a monster among humans. People like her are sadly not that rare, either. The form may change, but the level of abuse you suffered is all too common. If you doubt this, have a look at the comments below the letters this week.<br />
<br />
You're amazing, though, you know that? You are a truly fantastic person. It's a tribute to your strength, bravery and sheer toughness that you've managed to make a good life for yourself, with a devoted husband and friends who love you. You earned your life and you deserve what you've got now. I can only admire someone who's done what you have.<br />
<br />
I only have a few of suggestions for you. If someone tells you to "forgive" your mother, tell them to pound sand. What she did to you is unforgiveable, and it's all right if you're angry about it. You have every right to be furious with her.<br />
<br />
I see that some of your siblings are still in contact with your mother. I can't see why they'd do that, because that's just not who I am. Please, please don't let your siblings bully you into seeing your abuser. I've heard all that nonsense too, about my father, the scumball. You'll hear about how she's getting older, or that she's lonely, or that she'd really like to see you.... and you know what? No one has the right to say that to you. If you don't want to see her, tell your siblings to<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Enough is enough. Don't let them nag, either. If they won't stop babbling about it, then leave. Walk away. Make it clear that this topic is not open for discussion and if they're going to bring it up all the time, then you'll have to end the conversation. Then do it. Do it every time they bring it up.<br />
<br />
I have another request for you, too. See a therapist, even if it's only for a couple of visits. There are good therapists and bad ones. Some will be not good for you, but fine with other people. You don't want someone who is just going to make you re-live that stuff and cry on their furniture. You want someone who will help you find real ways to cope with your feelings and realize that what happened is over and YOU are in control of your feelings now.<br />
<br />
This is not going to be easy. I had nightmares for years, too. A wonderful, supportive husband helps. Talk to your doctor. Find a therapist who you feel comfortable with. If you work at it, eventually you'll find that you can put this in the past. You will never forget it, but you'll learn to live with it. Realize that she no longer has any power over you except that which you give her. Then take it back.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>2. </b>Ok, I read your letter. You used to go out of your way to be an asshole (I'm going to assume you're male.), dress like a slob and push people around at work. You even cop to being childish. In short, like Prudie said, you're the jerk that everyone writes to her about.<br />
<br />
But oh! An epiphany! A baby is coming and you had a change of heart! You have started to remember the manners your Mommy taught you. You've learned not to dress in the dark any more! You're beginning to act like a grownup!<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
That's all very well and good, but you wrap it all up with the following two sentences:<br />
<br />
"Is there anything I should do that will make people realize that I've changed? Or should I just go somewhere else if I want different treatment?<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP! again.</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
What the hell did you expect? A good conduct trophy? Not happening, boyo. You haven't changed in the least. You're still acting like a spoiled child. Jerk.<br />
<br />
And so what? You wanna take your truckie and go away to pout because people are proving a little more immune to your manipulation than the average six-year-old? Double jerk.<br />
<br />
No one trusts you and they're wary of this so-called "change" you've worked on yourself because they're convinced it's just another stop on the road to Assholeville for you.<br />
<br />
You've given them no reason to like you and in fact, you've given them every reason to avoid you like the plague. You have no right to demand anything from these people and you can't "make" them change their minds about you. Even serious grovelling is not going to help you out. You've never been sincere in your life, why should you get a break now?<br />
<br />
Get real, kid. What was the real reason for the change? Did someone finally wise up and tell you that your job was in danger? See, you might be very, very good at what you do. Either that or you have a horseshoe up your ass and no one noticed your jerkitude before now. But there are a LOT of people who would happily take your job and do what you're doing AND behave like professionals.<br />
<br />
You'd have to be even dumber than I think you are if you think just changing jobs is going to make people trust you. In any industry, there's gossip. People know what you were like. Pretending to grow up now might actually take...eventually.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>3. </b>Oy. If I have to listen to this "honesty and trust" shite again after this, I'm going to run away and join a circus or something. What a load of crap that is! Total honesty is something that no one really wants. No one wants to know how many tissues you used when you had your last cold and no one cares about your latest bowel movement, either. I could go on.<br />
<br />
Ok to summarize, your girlfriend has used this "honesty and trust" garbage as an excuse to tell you she's not attracted to you. Twice. She was serious both times, but goes on to claim that she "...said she just feels comfortable enough to tell me silly thoughts that come in to her head...".<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP! </b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
First, did you know that losing one's internal censor and blurting out everything that comes to mind is a sign that doctors use to diagnose Alzheimer's or dementia? Seriously. When Granny starts spouting off about all sorts of things that normal people just don't talk about, like the size of Gramps' dick, that's when the doctor sends the old bird off for an evaluation.<br />
<br />
Second, with that in mind....what are you, thick? You KNOW for a fact that this supposedly great girlfriend of yours deliberately said something that she KNEW would hurt your feelings. You KNEW she was serious about it. Why on earth are you even considering taking this crap for? Got a little cranial/rectal inversion going on?<br />
<br />
Why do you keep this bitch around? Do you like being insulted? Don't you get that people who love each other don't go about insulting each other? What she's doing is not related to her feeling "comfortable", it's all about diminishing and belittling you. The sad thing about it is that you seem to be taking it!<br />
<br />
There is NEVER an excuse to say nasty things. Especially to someone that might potentially end up being one's life partner. Politeness, as in not telling your spouse that they look like a dyspeptic Shar Pei in the morning when they have pillow-face, is something that everyone deserves, no matter how close you are.<br />
<br />
What this chick is doing to you is really abusive, you know that? She's starting out by insulting and belittling you and making excuses for her vile behavior. This is not going to improve. If you take her crap, she'll only get nastier and you'll end up feeling that she might be right.<br />
<br />
Run, don't walk away from this rotten human being. Find a nice girl who really likes you and would never even consider being rude to you. Ever.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>4. </b>Oh, this is an easy one. It really is. I love this stuff.<br />
<br />
You and your husband need to name a guardian for your children should you drive off a cliff and kick the bucket at the same time. That's reasonable. That's what couples with kids should do when they're writing wills and buying life insurance so their children will be supported financially - RIGHT? You did that stuff, RIGHT?<br />
<br />
You take it a step to the stupid side, though. YOU want your precious babies to go to your parents, who are in their 60s ad 70s. Your husband says no, they should go to his sister and her husband. You're pissy about that because they live far away and haven't visited you enough times to suit you.<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Grow the hell up, sweetie. Have you even ASKED the grandparents if they're willing to raise your kids? Did it even cross your mind that they've done that job already with you lot and they might not want to go there again? Do you think for one second that these people, when they're in their 70s and 80s will even be ABLE to raise your kids?<br />
<br />
You're an idiot. It's presumptuous beyond believe that you think it's ok to dump kids on your aging parents and in-laws. These people are retired. They don't want your kids, believe me. All of the grandparents I know freely admit that they're glad they can send the little darlings back home...to their parents...when the visit's over. Raising kids again, when they thought they were done with that is their idea of hell on earth.<br />
<br />
I hope your mother boxes your ears when you tell her your plan. You deserve it.<br />
<br />
<br />
__________________________________________________<br />
<br />
Well, it's been raining just about constantly here for the last six days straight. That sucks. Even the cats are bummed. I even started taking my Vitamin D again, hoping for a mood boost. It works. Seeing the sun would work even better...Sigh. The Boy also brought home his first head cold of the season last week, so I've been snuffling and headachey all week, too. Double sigh.<br />
<br />
Pitiful, right?<br />
<br />
I'll just keep on watching the forecast and writing the SHADDAP!S. That'll set me right. Oh, and shop for shoes. Shoes are good.Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-17448314830502198412011-09-23T17:38:00.000-05:002011-09-23T17:38:44.163-05:00SHADDAP! Open Your Eyes Edition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr615EHTr-TtntS6YGxl1d69SSXb99WRz895n1-To31MTjp6bEueyuAc1nv4_VLu3BaX7po9wqidriF9Y9ABzCtnrmURuDi2JV3FOMQMotEPUiFkVNO3hZTrJrHmyk-pUCLFrk5x2Dbxg/s1600/IMG_2565.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr615EHTr-TtntS6YGxl1d69SSXb99WRz895n1-To31MTjp6bEueyuAc1nv4_VLu3BaX7po9wqidriF9Y9ABzCtnrmURuDi2JV3FOMQMotEPUiFkVNO3hZTrJrHmyk-pUCLFrk5x2Dbxg/s640/IMG_2565.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
(Photograph copyright 2011, all rights reserved.)<br />
<br />
<br />
Meet Charlie. It's not easy to get a picture of him, because he's generally moving at light speed. It's not worth taking a picture of him when he's sleeping because, well, he sleeps weird. I know I shouldn't talk that way about my beloved pet, but it's embarrassing. When he sleeps, he's usually upside down, his eyes are half open and crossed, giving him a zombie-like stare, his tongue sticks out, and he drools, it's kind of disgusting to watch, frankly. Also, he snores. Loud. This is a rare moment of conscious repose for the big guy, so I'm glad I was fast with the camera.<br />
<br />
Now Charlie (aka Chuckles, aka Charles, aka Now What?!, aka Oh No You Don't!, aka You Little Fart!) has become a verb in our house. It didn't take long, either. How does a creature become a verb? Easy. This is a cat that does not know the meaning of "look before you leap". He's all about the leaping, the looking is just not there at all. For example, a friend recently asked where our table lamp went. My response? "It got Charlied."<br />
<br />
"How about that vase?"<br />
<br />
"Charlie."<br />
<br />
"Weren't we supposed to have cake for dessert?"<br />
<br />
"There was a cake. It got Charlied."<br />
<br />
We should give him a break, though, because he is only a year and a half old, which my vet assures me is about 9 years old in human terms. He's allowed to rip around playing, falling down the stairs and tripping over his own tail - don't ask how he did that. I saw it happen and I don't even know. He's the equivalent of a kid is what I'm saying. He has time and he doesn't have to be a grownup just yet.<br />
<br />
So what the hell is going on with the PEOPLE this week? Find them here: http://www.slate.com/id/2304305 (And I just KNOW that the Sage is going to pop by my e-mail and tell me how to make that a link again).<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>1.</b> So. You got a phone call from your husband's fuckpuppet letting you know that she...exists and has been screwing your husband for nine months. Just as an aside, did you ask if she was knocked up? Idle curiosity on my part.<br />
<br />
You naturally went to your husband and got a spiel that would make any con man blush, it's so transparent.<br />
<br />
"Oh baby, baby, YOU'RE the only one for me..... I only screwed her the once and now that bunny boiling bitch just wants revenge because I didn't want to do it again..... Don't you trust me baby? Can't you see she's a lying bitch?...." *barfing noises*<br />
<br />
Whatever. Tell him to<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Now think, cookie. What kind of dumbass are you? You want to believe him, don't you? Sure, he's charming and nice and he laughs with you and he's good in bed....<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Getting a divorce is a pain in the ass. But do you really think this guy is your "soul mate"? Give me a break, and wake the hell up. First, there are no "soul mates". That's just a load of bullshit made up by wedding planners so they can charge you more for the flowers.<br />
<br />
Second - Of COURSE he's charming! Duh! How do you think he gets women to sleep with him? What, you think they just take one look at his dickitude and hurl themselves at him, stripping all the way? Is that what YOU did?<br />
<br />
Do you sincerely believe that the fuckpuppet who phoned you is the only one he has? Really? I would be willing to bet some serious money (like a whole buck) that she's just the one that had the chutzpah to pick up the phone! For every silly bitch who calls the wife, there are half a dozen more waiting in the wings for their "soul mate" to understand how devoted they are to him. You know, that would be the guy YOU were stupid enough to marry.<br />
<br />
How long did you know him before you married him, anyway? A weekend? Two? Just enough time to say to yourself, "Gee what a charming guy, and he's talking to little old ME!"<br />
<br />
If you had taken say, six months to get to know the guy, you wouldn't be in this mess, hormone-girl.<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP! </b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Look. *takes a deep breath* This guy is what Dan Savage calls a CPOS. For the uninitiated, that's Cheating Piece Of Shit.<br />
<br />
Now go away, kid. You bother me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>2.</b> Ok. This was a two second letter. You have a friend that you've always admired because she's what? Blunt? Says what she thinks with no internal censor? Has the soul of a Dalek?<br />
<br />
She invited you and your mother to her wedding, but not your dad because after all, he has cancer and he'll be dead by then. You complained, she called you a drama queen and.....what?<br />
<br />
Do you sincerely believe that anything you could say to this...person... (there are no words) could possibly make her understand how horrible she is?<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Oh believe me, darling, she KNOWS how nasty she is. She's probably been laughing her ass off at you for years at the way you've been sucked in to tolerating her bullshit. Did you not get the hint when you realized that her favorite hobbies were puppy-kicking, baby-tossing, and peeling live beavers? No? Did you fail to notice that she has...how many friends? You? More? How long do they stick around?<br />
<br />
The fascinating thing is that she actually found a man that wants to marry her! I guess it's true that finding someone to marry is easy. That even makes a twisted sort of sense. Charles Manson, John Wayne Gacy, and all of their peers get letters from women wanting to be their "soul mate" (what a load of utter shite that phrase is) and marry them every day. By the pound.<br />
<br />
Prudie was right. RSVP "no". Never speak to that psycho again. Re-evaluate your urge to be treated like shit. And fertheluvamike DON'T get married. Not for a long, long time.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>3.</b> Kid you gotta grow up. It's true that life ain't fair and it's kind of sad that you're getting clobbered with that now, but you have to be the grownup here. Your parents are sure as hell not acting like adults.<br />
<br />
To recap - kid graduates a private college after parents tell him not to go to a state school, they'll pay. He (I'm choosing to think it's a guy) gets a job from Americorps for a year, a tiny stipend, and plans to stay home for that year. It's not that bad a plan. Too bad it's not working<br />
<br />
See, the kid's parents now want half his tuition back. To the tune of $80,000.00. Now.<br />
<br />
To continue:<br />
<br />
Your parents are broke to the point where they're selling off their assets and they see you as their cash cow for the near future and possibly permanently. Tell them to<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
First, go for a walk. Think while you're walking. Ready for the smack upside the head that is reality?<br />
<br />
Your parents are not acting in your best interests. They are acting ONLY in their best interests. I'd guess that they've always been fuckups with money and it's just hitting them now how stupid they've been. You want evidence? They sell property to pay a debt and they want YOU to go on a vacation with them with the money. That's a sign of sure-fire fuckuppery. Sigh.<br />
<br />
I get that you feel sorry for them. I do. What I don't get is that you seem to feel guilty about this whole mess...<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
You say you get a pathetic stipend. Use it to find a roommate, someone you work with that's in the same boat would would work. Or rent a room in someone's house. It won't kill you not to live in a four-level split for a year. Coping with utter poverty at your age is a good learning experience and also a guaranteed way to teach you not to follow your parents' example, right?<br />
<br />
Now, you're basically volunteering for a year...so NETWORK! Get names and numbers. Job hunt. Wait tables on weekends or something. Do whatever it is you need to do to survive. You wouldn't be the first kid to leave the program because you found a decent job.<br />
<br />
Your parents will whine. Your parents will bitch and howl. They'll fall down, kick the floor and hold their breath until their faces turn blue. Too bad. They're big now. They'll deal.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>4.</b> This is another easy one, but I suspect that I'm going to catch some hell with my answer.<br />
<br />
The LW is a young woman who lives in an apartment building. In the same building, there's a young man in his twenties who is mentally disabled (SEE how PC I can be?) and lonely. He hangs around the doorway greeting the LW and wanting to talk to her all the time. She finds this somewhat unnerving.<br />
<br />
Got that? So<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
and let me answer. Thank you.<br />
<br />
Prudie says that you should find someone to talk to the mother about programs for this young man, and that would be a noble thing to do. Go for it. He's bored, he'd enjoy that, and he'd be out of your hair.<br />
<br />
Now there's one thing that Prudie and all of the other posters aren't thinking about. We are talking here about the mind of an eight-year-old in the body of a grown man. Think about what that means. Eight year old kids do throw the occasional tantrum. They are not always pleasant to be around. Combine that with the size, strength, hormones and sex drive of an adult male, and it can be a recipe for trouble.<br />
<br />
The LW does not see this guy as seriously threatening and that's good. Probably she's right. People tend to dismiss the mentally disabled, though. They see Special Olympics posters with smiling, competent Down's Syndrome kids and think that's what all of them are like. They're not. People with Down's are as different from each other as the rest of us are. Never forget that. This kid needs help. Someone has to make sure he gets it.<br />
<br />
------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Gotta go. Charlie wants a hug. He is just so stinking cute! You should hear that purr.Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-39802738535826348682011-07-14T12:41:00.001-05:002011-07-14T14:20:23.762-05:00SHADDAP! Cry Me A River Edition.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoBktgROycpPudqiHrZxahlc4k3G0A5d_D61pxAaFP81kx9kCm88it5CiVv4-7YiWU-BkCC9pBqaLoZ7zvRGD8HZhK-xVjfF2fs69dCb0RvLSNtCm5gXWucjCl2mGR-eOUuuqRjXgwaUc/s1600/IMG_2392.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoBktgROycpPudqiHrZxahlc4k3G0A5d_D61pxAaFP81kx9kCm88it5CiVv4-7YiWU-BkCC9pBqaLoZ7zvRGD8HZhK-xVjfF2fs69dCb0RvLSNtCm5gXWucjCl2mGR-eOUuuqRjXgwaUc/s640/IMG_2392.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
(Photograph copyright 2011, all rights reserved.)<br />
<br />
Meet Nini (pronounced knee-knee). She is almost three years old and has the most stress-free life of anyone I know. In this photo, she is sun-worshipping. Her technique is to lie in the direct sun until you'd swear she's going to catch fire, then she gets up, has a stretch and a drink and heads for a shady spot. Once she's cooled off a bit, she's back in the sun. This will go on for as long as the sun is coming in that doorway and since it faces South, that's pretty much all day.<br />
<br />
She knows she's adorable and that humans are suckers who will give her treats and belly rubs whenever she asks. She also knows she's the boss of the house. When asked what she actually DOES and if someone suggests that she should catch some vermin and earn her keep, her answer is, "What? Mice? In MY house? See any? My job is done."<br />
<br />
Sigh. Looks like a nice life, doesn't it?<br />
<br />
Too bad humans have to go hunting for trouble, isn't it? Wouldn't it be nice if humans could just take a few minutes and lie in the sun on a nice rug? But no. And today's LWs are living proof... find the letters here: http://www.slate.com/id/2299167<br />
<br />
<br />
1. So, to summarize, in your tender teen years you dated a guy who later went on to become Famous Rock Star Guy and you're still bitter about it because he dumped you and said you weren't cool enough for him. He phrased it badly because he was a kid in the throes of the teenaged stupids, but it could have been a lot worse.<br />
<br />
Now you've added a lot of crap about how he knocked you up and you didn't tell him, lost the baby, didn't go to college for awhile, yadda yadda yadda, and you were traumatized, your life is over, he done you wrong, woe is little old you, and so on. Never mind the fact that he had nothing to do with your choice not to go to school, get some counseling if you needed it and move on with your life.<br />
<br />
In fact, your entire life seems to be centered around something that you had no control over and that the poor bastard who dumped you didn't do! Tell Messy now. Did you keep one of his old sweatshirts, constantly soaked with your tears? Is his old cell phone number still on your speed dial, seven years later?<br />
<br />
NOW, you want petty revenge in the form of cash for pictures of him nekkid that you thought were long since gone.<br />
<br />
SHADDAP!<br />
<br />
You silly bitch.<br />
<br />
You have a problem all right, but HE has nothing to do with it. I can just see you spending all your time listening to his music, sobbing your eyes out, telling everyone how evil he was to you, how you coulda been his Linda or his Yoko or whatever...<br />
<br />
SHADDAP! again.<br />
<br />
What a load of shit. Get over yourself, sugar.<br />
<br />
See, this guy never knew you were pregnant - that's if you really were and didn't insert that bit for the sake of the drama. Even if he did, you're dreaming in Technicolor if you think for one instant that he would still be with you if you had the baby. He may have said he dumped you because of the coolness factor, but face it, this was HIGH SCHOOL. Virtually NO ONE stays with their high school sweetie for eternity.<br />
<br />
Your rock star ex knows you better than you think. He knows all about your perpetual attention-seeking drama. He knows you've been wallowing in the "I knew him when" nonsense that you clearly think gives you some sort of sick status. Why do you think he dumped you in the first place, dippy? He fears quite justly that you'll try to screw him over out of spite. He's right, too, isn't he? That's your plan, after all.<br />
<br />
He dumped you for a lot of very good reasons and they're all plain to see in this letter. Now he just wants to let the party and the sound rock on without having to deal with some whiny, obsessed, ancient history ex. I can't blame him for that in the least. He's right.<br />
<br />
Prudie's right. If you own copyright to those photos, sell them to his agent. I won't tell you to just delete them and make them go away for all time, because that would be the classy thing to do and I know that's utterly alien to you.<br />
<br />
<br />
2. Well, aren't you a piece of work? To summarize again... for, what 15 years(?), your wife has taken a vacation to Florida alone. She did this long before you knew her and she let you know up front that she has no intention of stopping that tradition.<br />
<br />
So what the hell is your problem? You want to be invited? Why? She told you repeatedly that this is her time to be alone and decompress, this is not news to you. She did it before she knew you, while she was dating you, and has continued. This is nothing new.<br />
<br />
SHADDAP!<br />
<br />
What an asshole! Why would you assume that she's screwing around at this late date? Are you projecting? Would YOU like to screw around? Do you demand to know who was at the grocery store when she was there? Do you accuse her of screwing the postman, the UPS guy and the kid that mows the lawn? Are you that obsessive?<br />
<br />
Get over yourself, jerk. This woman never once lied to you. She told you what she was doing, where she was going, and that this is a tradition that she intends to keep. Everything has been perfectly transparent all along. You have no reason to suspect her of doing anything untoward, you're just being nosy. I disagree with Prudie. She doesn't "owe" you an "explanation" for what she does. You already know.<br />
<br />
See, even married people need time alone. Getting married, for normal people, means that two people agree to share their lives. This does NOT mean that they're obliged never to be out of body contact until they die, you moron. You and your wife are married, but you are also individuals. If she needs this trip once a year, then she should go. It's not like she never goes anywhere with you. You admit that you take vacations together all the time.<br />
<br />
One week out of 52 is a small price to pay for marital harmony. But you aren't interested in marital harmony. No, your only interest is to brand her as yours and never let her out of your sight.<br />
<br />
Go ahead. Kick and scream and whine about not being invited. Tell her your suspicions. Act like a spoiled toddler. Better yet, go into creepy stalker mode and follow her when she leaves. Show her what a jealous, obnoxious child she married. THAT will show her!<br />
<br />
Be prepared, though. If you keep up acting like you are now, I predict that within a year you won't have to worry about her going somewhere without you. You'll either be too occupied with wondering if Boobsie911 is ever going to "like" you on that dating service or building a cage in the basement for the next woman you get on the hook.<br />
<br />
*shudder*<br />
<br />
<br />
3. Wow. So the Casey Anthony verdict pissed you off a little, eh? I never would have guessed. You even go so far as to say, "I wish someone would throw acid in her face and gouge out her eyes."<br />
<br />
SHADDAP!<br />
<br />
I don't even know where to start with this. Ok.<br />
<br />
First, you flaming moron, you must have a pretty easy life if you have so much time to obsess over a case that is OVER. Done. Finished. In fact, the woman was found not guilty of murder, but guilty of lying to the police. You don't have all of the facts. You don't know exactly what went on. You never will know these things. No one will. That's the way it goes sometimes. Deal.<br />
<br />
It's the threat you made that makes me wonder, though. Why are you obsessing so much over this particular case? As public as this trial was, the charges are nothing new. Parents kill their kids every day. I have no doubt that thousands of kids go missing every year and there are many, many little corpses littering obscure wilderness areas.<br />
<br />
In fact, the detail involved in your fantasy suggests that you are a far sicker puppy than Ms. Anthony is. You sound like you're on the brink of a psychotic break. Do you work? Have you ever made these types of threats to anyone else? Have you ever been involuntarily committed to a mental institution? Because you should be.<br />
<br />
Prudie suggests that you volunteer somewhere. I suggest that you volunteer to check yourself into a happy place with trees and flowers and chirping birds, and basket weavers who sit and smile and twiddle their thumbs and toes.... before they come to take you away.<br />
<br />
<br />
4. Talk about borrowing trouble! So your sister sends her kid's photo to cute baby sites, hoping to win prizes. It pisses you off.<br />
<br />
SHADDAP!<br />
<br />
First, you can quit pretending that you're somehow trying to protect this kid from some sort of vague exploitation. If you weren't a complete idiot, you'd realize that this kid is a BABY. Photos of gurgling babies are cute and unlikely to come back and "haunt" them. Except that people might one day tell him what a cute baby he was.<br />
<br />
Your sister enters these contests because of the potential for swag. These contests are usually held by companies that give away things like diapers, clothing, strollers, etc. as prizes for the number of votes the kid gets. Be proud of her for her sense of thrift.<br />
<br />
As for your REAL problem, the constant e-mails, so the heck what? Delete them. Duh.<br />
<br />
Then get over yourself. You don't get to dictate what your sister does with pictures of her little drooler. If that baby's parents don't have a problem with it, that's just the way it is. As Ann Landers would say, it's a "nunuvyerbizness" situation.<br />
<br />
----------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Gee whiz, are people really so bored with their lives that they have nothing better to do than stick their noses into other peoples business? Are their lives so easy that they have the time and energy to obsess over something that should have been forgotten years ago?<br />
<br />
Sigh. Oh well. I'm off to wallow in the sun. So there. Nini has the right idea - smart kitty.Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-40952033205643673812011-03-24T11:42:00.002-05:002011-03-24T13:09:12.102-05:00Save us from the stupid!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBqm8WJQanqr7fKEuO48wVkzzCgNvil-ukE9U-KvynrlRmAQz52NoHwcXHKTSAJjT0wteeXDpUQXeC5mR0_TXDpJZKQecNBOpYmYW_Zq6bKLenJIV5MIoq4hdHxscjh03JQZfZpjlqeA0/s1600/FH050012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBqm8WJQanqr7fKEuO48wVkzzCgNvil-ukE9U-KvynrlRmAQz52NoHwcXHKTSAJjT0wteeXDpUQXeC5mR0_TXDpJZKQecNBOpYmYW_Zq6bKLenJIV5MIoq4hdHxscjh03JQZfZpjlqeA0/s320/FH050012.jpg" width="209" /></a></div><br />
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(Photographs copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)<br />
<br />
The photos above are from our last trip to Japan in November of last year. They're all random except for the last one. For those that don't recognize it, there is a board like this in front of almost every temple in the country. For a fee, anyone can buy a small wooden plaque from the monks, who will inscribe a wish or a prayer on them before they're tied to the board with the rest.<br />
<br />
The people I know that are from Japan are frantic with worry. They can't stop watching the news. It's a horrible, helpless feeling to be in a safe place when the people they care about are suffering. There are food lines in Tokyo as well as the rest of the country. Some schools are still closed. Many people are unable to get back to work. Some workplaces are never going to reopen. Everything is in the air and nobody knows what's going to happen next. Rolling blackouts are now the norm as power plants are being repaired or shut down.<br />
<br />
Consider this to be my little plaque. Best wishes and to the Japan and all of its wonderful people. To my friends, I'm thinking of you.<br />
<br />
<br />
And now, to the letters! Find them <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2289168">here</a> .<br />
<br />
<br />
1. See? Here's the perfect storm of stupid in one letter!<br />
<br />
The writer is a man in his 60s, recently diagnosed with a cancer that will ultimately be fatal. He is trying to finagle a way to leave money to his 40-something fuckpuppet after his death. He's been seeing the fuckpuppet for years under the nose of his wife who he can only describe as a "good earner". Nice, right?<br />
<br />
So the upshot is that he wants his WIFE, who he's been cheating on for over a decade, to give him his cancer drugs, clean up his vomit, and wipe his ass and THEN find out he'd been fucking around on her after he dies.<br />
<br />
At least, that's my interpretation of the mess......... he needs to<br />
<br />
SHADDAP!<br />
<br />
...and pay attention, right kids?<br />
<br />
Your wife is GOING to find out about the fuckpuppet, asshole. It may be after you're dead, but there is no way you can hide the amount of money you're giving to chickie-baby without your wife finding out. No matter how sneaky you try to be, and I know you're an expert, this bequest is not going to stay a secret.<br />
<br />
And then you know what's going to happen. If you don't, I'll make that prediction for you. Your wife will loathe the very thought of you. She will feel cheated and used - and she'd be right about that. Your children will hate you with a passion reserved only for the worst mass-murderers in the history of the planet. If there's a family Bible, your name will be crossed out with a Magic Marker. Your grandchildren will never know your name. Your dog will pee on your ashes (provided they haven't been flushed down the loo already).<br />
<br />
But you don't care about any of that, right? You knew what you were doing from the moment you met Miss I-Like-Fucking-Married-Men. You KNEW what kind of hurt you were going to cause. You KNEW that you were doing something hideously wrong, that you were being unfair to your wife and children. You KNEW that the honorable thing to do would be to ask your wife for a divorce so that she would have a chance to find someone who loved her and not her earning power.<br />
<br />
You claim that you have real feelings for the fuckpuppet. YOU might. Why don't you test her? Tell her that you're going to leave your wife. If she doesn't head for the hills then, ask her if she'll marry you. If she's STILL planning to stick around (doubtful) tell her about the cancer. I'm betting that she drops you like a hot rock.<br />
<br />
See, she's fucking a married man because she knows that you'll go back home to your wife, leaving her to have a nice, serene life. It's been easy for her - getting laid, getting gifties, having her freedom. You didn't really think you were the only one in her life, did you? After all, you're no spring chicken, and a girl has to take care of herself before she loses her looks, right? So she's probably already got someone else on the string by now... you know, someone not in the Viagra set, someone with more earning potential, someone who...still thinks he can kid himself his wife won't find out.<br />
<br />
You could go all sensitive '70s guy and tell your wife everything, throwing yourself on her mercy and hoping that she'll forgive you... Yeah. Right. No you won't. You live and breathe lies, don't you? You're nothing more than a terrified little boy now, aren't you?<br />
<br />
Everything now hinges on your fear. You know that the fuckpuppet won't take care of you. You also know that your wife will divorce you if she finds out, taking half of the marital property - which she's bloody well earned, by the way - and leave you on your own to die with only your checkbook to keep you company. So you'll die before you tell her.<br />
<br />
When your wife and family find out about this bequest, my advice to them would be to contest your will. They'll inevitably win. Judges don't tend to look at fuckpuppets kindly, especially if they have the gall to show up in court. If life is fair, your fuckpuppet not only won't get YOUR money, she'll have to spend HERS. On legal fees.<br />
<br />
Karma's a bitch. Shoulda thought of that before, right?<br />
<br />
<br />
2. Ooh, the angst! How can people be so goddamned dumb and still be alive? How do they make it to adulthood without getting killed in traffic or eaten by a bear? I would really like to know these things.<br />
<br />
Here we have a guy (I'm assuming "guy", so don't bother me with gender), who feels sooooooooooooo bad about the earthquake and tsunami in Japan that he wants to troop around his favorite sushi place, apologizing to total strangers.<br />
<br />
Yeesh.<br />
<br />
SHADDAP!<br />
<br />
Listen moron, Prudie was right.<br />
<br />
SHADDAP!<br />
<br />
Do you run around apologizing to random lizards about the fate of the dinosaurs? Do you seek out people whose loved ones have been dead for decades to give them your condolences? Would you be surprised if someone laughed in your face or socked you in the jaw when you did that?<br />
<br />
Idiot. No one gives a rat's behind about your feelings here. YOU don't count in the face of the many tragedies happening in Japan right now. You don't get to tell random strangers what you think, because.....random strangers will probably call the cops and you'll find yourself in a padded cell...<br />
<br />
Give money to charity. If there's a relief fund, contribute. Other than that,<br />
<br />
SHADDAP! (for the third time already)<br />
<br />
<br />
3. Ah yes... more stupid.<br />
<br />
This guy has heard a rumor that a couple that he and his wife sorta know are starving their kids, and his "proof" is that both of this couple are skinny and the kids stuff themselves at every opportunity. Now that he's heard this, he's convinced himself that he can see behavioral issues with the kids that makes him think that they're starving to death and will keel over any minute now.<br />
<br />
His solution? Dump them and never see them again.<br />
<br />
Oy.<br />
<br />
SHADDAP!<br />
<br />
Your wife is absolutely right. These are your friends, and if you're REALLY concerned, why would you cut them off? What if the rumor you heard was true and the kids ARE suffering? Is that ok with you as long all you don't have to actually SEE it? You'd seriously go with that solution?<br />
<br />
Wouldn't it make more sense if you saw them occasionally and paid attention to the kids when you did? Ya think?<br />
<br />
Prudie was right. Skinny adults tend to have skinny kids. If those kids are anything like I was as a little spud, their mother is probably stuffing them like little geese while they grow like weeds. There was a time when I could scarf down three hamburgers at a sitting and have two pieces of cake for dessert, but you'd never know it to look at me, scrawny thing that I was. How do you know that's not what's happening here?<br />
<br />
You don't. You don't know anything. All you see is a couple of hungry kids at meal times and you have no clue what's really going on in that house. Now if you see evidence that really concerns you - if you can see bones on the kids, for example, or if they're unresponsive and don't want to play, THEN you can say something. THEN you can write to the doctor.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, all you have is dubious opinion from a rumor-mongering "friend" who's probably still stinging because when she accused this woman of starving her kids, she was told to go to hell and mind her own bloody business.<br />
<br />
Idiot.<br />
<br />
<br />
4. Oh dear. Is being a moron genetic? Here I have my doubts.<br />
<br />
A daughter (because no man would do this) has decided that throwing a surprise anniversary party for her parents is somehow a good idea. But..... I know you're all aquiver.... she inadvertently invited a friend of her mother's who is a FORMER friend. Oh the horror! Whatever shall she do?<br />
<br />
*slapping forehead*<br />
<br />
SHADDAP!<br />
<br />
Cancel the party. Now. Send a note of apology to those that have RSVPed and plan a real party instead. Seriously, you silly ass. Cancel it. Never, ever consider doing this again. Never. If you're tempted, arrange to have someone beat you about the head with a banana peel.<br />
<br />
Surprise parties are ALWAYS a bad idea. ALWAYS. Nobody likes them. No, no argument.<br />
<br />
SHADDAP!<br />
<br />
Nobody enjoys these things. They always end in tears. Either the surprisee is bitterly resentful or the surpriser gets smacked around and dumped forever from the guest list.<br />
<br />
Weirdly, Cary Tennis had a surprise party question this week. It was a different sitch - husband who was in the process of dumping his wife was going to throw a surprise party for her anyway (creep). He, along with a couple of other columnists he cited - and I'm not going to look it up, because you can do this yourself - agrees that all surprise parties are universally a stupid idea and not to be attempted by anyone with half a brain.<br />
<br />
Why? Again, I won't quote, I'll summarize. Look it up on Salon if you want to. He feels that these events are manipulative and controlling. They force someone to grit their teeth and smile through an event that they hate and don't want. I agree.<br />
<br />
Surprise parties are things that only seem like a good idea to stupid people who assume that everyone else is as stupid as they are. Either that, or they're thrown by malicious people who get a kick out of watching people they're supposed to respect and care about squirm uncomfortably for an audience.<br />
<br />
So don't go there. Just. Don't.<br />
<br />
Moron.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2289168%3Chere%3C/a"></a>Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-86756132865511171132010-10-28T14:42:00.001-05:002010-10-28T21:36:07.821-05:00SHADDAP! Your "Dumb" is Hurting My Ears!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bLSCVNLTGqGLiRDNBmtQ3RdHMoBQNGMix1FUULKeIEB6gDlOHUa659L1jaBSqCr_xL5cEfGQFf2PAC5ex2zjCFgwmcVZYqTv4alAowj3AB95YaweV1M9bVIie9GuXpLhyVVF7qZHZMM/s1600/IMG_1597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bLSCVNLTGqGLiRDNBmtQ3RdHMoBQNGMix1FUULKeIEB6gDlOHUa659L1jaBSqCr_xL5cEfGQFf2PAC5ex2zjCFgwmcVZYqTv4alAowj3AB95YaweV1M9bVIie9GuXpLhyVVF7qZHZMM/s320/IMG_1597.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">(Photographs copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I have to say, this entire week has put me into exactly the right mood to deliver well-deserved SHADDAPs! to the letter writers this week. Monday and Tuesday I had jury duty - a guy who was in a fairly serious fender-bender with a city vehicle decided TWO YEARS LATER that he needs major bucks for pain and suffering, even though he admits nothing ever hurt that badly and he was fine within weeks after the accident. He lost. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">This morning, after a full week of mind-blowing, tree-knocking-down, roof-destroying winds, the temperature was in the low forties when I got up and we're supposed to have frost tonight. I am not ready for frost. Some would say that I'm NEVER ready for frost, but I don't care. It's not even Halloween yet, and that makes it too early for things to freeze. On the up side, I do get to wear my cool new boots. Still.....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">So we're off. The original letters are <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2272643/">here</a> .</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b>1.</b> WOE, OH WOE! HOW EVER SHALL WE GO ON? BOO HOO..... WAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b>SHADDAP!</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">To recap...... You and your girlfriend stayed with her Jesus-freaky genitals-are-for-peeing-only-until-you're-married parents' vacation home one weekend. Neither of you were thrilled to be put in separate rooms, so you sneaked out into the back yard to do the wild thing in the middle of the night when the rest of the world was supposed to be asleep........ and they weren't. Or at least Grannie wasn't. Asleep that is. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">NOW...the world is about to end. What you thought might be a stupid stunt proved to be a stupid stunt after all. Hmmm. Never second-guess your stupid meter again, ok? Just because you and your girlfriend couldn't wait until Sunday night to get all crotchy with each other, Grannie might go into a home! Woe, indeed! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b>SHADDAP AGAIN!</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Now, I have to wonder a little bit about Grannie. You SAY that everyone knows she's "a bit senile". Maybe she is. The fact that she's obsessing about it a week (or weeks) later is a pretty good indicator that the old marbles are rolling in more empty space than they used to. I can guarantee there's not much wrong with her eyesight if she saw the two of you frolicking in the dark! Then again, she didn't recognize either of you.....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">There are two things that BOTH of you horny little fuckbunnies can do here. First, you can tell all, take the lecture about how you're both going to Hell for fornication and let her parents force your girlfriend (who started this whole sleigh ride in the first place) to wear stainless steel panties and stay locked in their basement until she dies of old age. I guess it's the "noble" thing to do, right? Judging by your letter, it's punishment that you're after, right?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">OR..... and this is going to get me in trouble, <i>you can say nothing</i>. Let Grannie call the cops. They'll laugh themselves silly and tell her that IF she saw someone (remember, you're silent through this, twit), there is no way they're going to waste their time looking for two consenting adults who were "doing what comes naturally" weeks ago. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">THEN .... the family will take this as the sign that they've clearly been hunting for for ages and use it as a convenient excuse to put the old bird into a senior's apartment where, if you believe what you read, she'll be having the best sex of her life within fifteen minutes of her arrival. Oh, those horny seniors! Remember the massive "scandal" about the STD transmissions in nursing homes? They're going to have to give the old girl some condoms when she moves in! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Hmm. Keeping quiet is looking better and better, isn't it? You might as well relax, then. The old girl was on a one-way trip to the Grannie Hut anyway.... all you did was provide a handy-dandy excuse for her kids to shuffle her in that direction.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b>2.</b> WAAAAAAAAAAAHHH! BOO HOO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! *Sob* *gulp* WAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH !!!!!!!!!! THAT BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!! MY LIFE IS OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b>SHADDAP!</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Oh baruther! Do you realize just how stupid you sound? Do you? You got married and found out SIX MONTHS LATER that your father was fucking your Mommy's BFF who was also your wedding planner, ever since you've been obsessing about how SHE ruined your wedding? Destroyed your memories? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Give me a goddamned break, you moron. Oh, and <b>SHADDAP! </b> a hundred times. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Listen you self-indulgent whining little snot rag. This affair was none of your business. I know your mother has MADE it your business with her whining and bitching and bringing up the affair every time she sees you.... but why do you let her do this? You have got to be well into your thirties, and you STILL let Mommy tell you what to do? WTF? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">You're not ALLOWED to watch your own wedding video? You're going to destroy YOUR veil, just because your Mommy doesn't want to look at it? Huh? Does Mommy live in your closet? Do you still ask her opinion on the best way to wipe your ass, too? Has it ever occurred to you that MOMMY is the one with the problem here? See, you claim that your parents made nice and all is well with them now. Surely you don't believe that! Your mother is still obsessing and YOU are permitting her to drag you into her drama. She hasn't forgiven your father at all...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">See sugar, you're mad at the wrong person here. What about Daddy? Did the "other woman" hogtie him and force him to have sex with her? Hell no! Your beloved Daddy was the one that dropped his pants! HE chose to lie to your mother. HE chose to cheat. HE's the one that was sneaking around. Picture this, if you want to get mad at someone..... Your Daddy, rolling around on the floor of the "other woman's" sewing room, screwing like bunnies while YOUR VEIL was on the sewing machine! How does that work for you?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">NOW do you feel better? No? You're still going to be "forced" to spend thousands renewing your vows so that your Mommy will feel better about some overpriced photos of you and your husband wearing inappropriately formal clothing at a contrived event that no one really wants to go to, anyway? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">What does your husband think of this, dumbass? Or does he even count, except as a prop to stand beside you at an event that really had more to do with you getting the one and only photo op of your life than anything resembling "love"? Did you even ask his opinion? Now THAT would be interesting. I would love to see the letter he'd write...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">"Dear Internet Lady,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">My wife can't keep her snout out of other people's business and is now spending the mortgage money on a phony wedding that we're only having to make her sex-obsessed, Looney Tunes, control-freak of a mother happy...."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b>3.</b> IT'S NOT FAIR!!!!!!!!!!! I'M GONNA HOLD MY BREATH UNTIL I TURN BLUE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JUST WATCH ME BANG MY HEAD ON THE WALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b>SHADDAP!</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Cry me a river, loser. You found out that someone better educated than you, and from the sounds of it a whole lot more pleasant to deal with, is making a lousy six grand more per year? So? Whaddaya want? Maybe a Marsha the Martyr sticker to wear on your forehead at work every day?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Oh sure. You can take the advice that some people on Slate have given you and "negotiate" for more money. You can even run to your boss and tell him/her that you "found out" that this co-worker is making more than you are. You can raise a stink. You can whine, bawl, cry, moan, spread rumors, bitch and complain.... do whatever you want. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I guarantee that your boss will take one look at you and decide that you're more trouble than you're worth, especially if the company can get someone with a Master's degree for a measly six grand more than they're paying you. Had you considered that?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">All it will get you is a trip to Joblessville, and in this economy, do you really want to go there? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Wait, moron. Ask for more money later if you want...but be prepared not to get it. Not for awhile, anyway.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b>4. </b>*HORK* *BARF* oooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhh *RUMBLE* I'M GONNA DIE! *SPLAT* *FLUSH* NEVER AGAIN ............... IHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOU.....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b>SHADDAP!</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Yeesh. Another one...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Ok. Twice you've eaten at another couple's house and twice you've gotten sick. My sympathies. Having just had another visit from my good friends Sam'n'Ella myself, I can tell you that I feel your pain. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">But you didn't have food poisoning, you flaming idiot! YOU got sick. No one else did, did they? How do I know this? Ask me...Ok, I'll tell you how I know... Because with your shitty attitude and willingness to throw blame around there's NO WAY you wouldn't have been howling to the moon throughout your entire letter if someone else had joined you in your worship of the Great White Porcelain God, Ralph.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">You say that "...nothing they touch will ever enter my mouth again..." without even considering telling them what happened! How stupid can you be? Obviously something you ate made you sick - and no one else. Do you think your friends did this on purpose? What did they do, do you think? Do you think they were wandering around the grocery store saying to each other, "Gee, it's time to try and kill that dumbass again?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Why the hell is it (and for those of you who have heard me go on about this before, talk among yourselves for a bit) that people are so frightened to TALK to each other? Has it not occurred to you that this might be a GOOD THING? If you can find out what made you sick, you can avoid it in the future and not get blindsided by it again. Duh. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Prudie's (and others) advice on this was to take them out for dinner, or feed them at your place or something.... It's all bullshit. You need talk to these people WITHOUT whining, or blaming or any of the other spiteful shit you seem to eager to spew, and try and find out what happened. If you do this, I can guarantee that you will never get sick at their place again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Moron.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
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<a name='more'></a>Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-4696533982576730492010-10-15T14:32:00.001-05:002010-10-15T15:37:31.851-05:00SHADDAP! Worlds of Dumb Edition<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><br />
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(Photographs copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)<br />
<br />
Here we are again on another Goldilocks day! That's what The Boy has taken to calling days when it's a not too hot/not too cold, sun shining, birds chirping, non-windy fall day. I like it, so I'm going to use it. Probably he stole it, too, but I don't care. It's 60 degrees and sunny here in the City of Wind, with (ironically) very little wind. So there!<br />
<br />
Naturally, I'm indoors....writing this. Mermaid's right. There's something just a little odd in that, isn't there? However, we're off!<br />
<br />
For the original letters, read <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2271005">Dear Prudie</a> .<br />
<br />
<br />
1. I'd like to say I feel for you. I would. Seriously... but this has to be some kind of joke, right? Here you are, admitting that "(g)rowing up, I was quick to fly off the handle," and that you not only lost your temper with your sister again recently, but subjected her to a vicious, abusive harangue that ended with her not only not accepting your apology, but giving as good as she got, probably for the first time in her life.<br />
<br />
THEN.... you have the nerve to say that you're "...broken-hearted that a sister I love and respect would say such horrible things..." to you? Some "love and respect". Funny, I didn't know it was all right to show "love and respect" by screaming at people for no good reason.<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Let's review....You were a little shit as a kid. You got worse as an adolescent. You've spent your life throwing tantrums and hurling invective around your family, especially at your sister, and NOW you're surprised that she wants nothing to do with you?<br />
<br />
You know what? I'm on your sister's side. You're an asshole.<br />
<br />
Wake up, dippy. You finally got on your sister's last nerve. It took awhile, but you managed it. In one swell foop, you reminded her of all the shitty things you said to her when you were kids and all of the fake apologies you gave only because your parents forced you to. All it took was ONE LOOK at your face, ugly with rage, and she had had enough.<br />
<br />
You heard me. You've been dishing out the shit for so long that when ONE PERSON calls you on your crappy behavior you're shocked, you bullying jerk.<br />
<br />
What the hell did you expect, dolt? How many rotten things have you said to and about your sister over the years? Be honest. You were power-tripping on your whole family, weren't you? You discovered when you were just a tiny sprog that all you had to do was yell and go red in the face and everyone would do their best to placate you and you LOVED that, right?<br />
<br />
That was one hell of a power trip, wasn't it? You got to control everyone around you, just by getting/acting angry. All you had to do was say the words "I'm sorry" and that was the end of it. Your parents chose to permit you to abuse everyone in the house and you took full advantage. They bear some responsibility, because this tantrum habit of yours is something they could have tried to stop, and it seems they didn't bother. Then again, nice people have trouble believing that they've brought an unholy, frothing at the mouth, psycho-bitch into the world.<br />
<br />
I'd say your sister is a model of restraint! She really let you have it by the sound of things, and I'll bet no one's ever had the guts to do that to you before. See, when she told you that you're a "...toxic person who infects the whole family...", she was doing nothing more than telling you the absolute truth. Instead of whining that she was "mean" to you, consider that YOU very likely managed to destroy HER childhood with your selfish, childish antics. She's spent her entire life tippy-toeing around you and your nonsense and she's decided it's all over. I know. You can't consider that. If you did, you'd have to admit that maybe, just maybe the world doesn't revolve around you and your vile temper.<br />
<br />
I'd have kicked your miserable ass out of my life long ago.<br />
<br />
I love the way you try to cast yourself as a victim here. Maybe it's even worked for you a couple of times. It's classic, though - you're a bully and when someone finally stands up to you and shows you how truly small you are, you're so upset that you expect the world to feel sorry for you. Because you just don't get that it's NOT all about you. You claim that you've been working on your anger issues, but I'm not going to give you the benefit of the doubt. See, when bullies grow up, they surround themselves with people they can control...and I think that's what you've done.<br />
<br />
YOU have no control over your sister or the situation any more. SHE is done with your nastiness, and SHE cut you off first. That's gotta suck. Your control of the situation is gone altogether now. Your sister has finally learned that you can only abuse her if she lets you, and she's doing the right thing to protect herself. I'd be willing to bet that she's also seriously considering limiting her contact with your enablers. That would be your parents.<br />
<br />
Your parents are trying to get you to "make nice" like you did when you were a kid, and it worked when you were a kid. They would do anything just to shut you up, wouldn't they? Too bad your sister sees through the phony nonsense you show your parents.<br />
<br />
<br />
2. I have to say, somewhat smugly, that I was born without wisdom teeth. I have none, and neither did my mother. Having witnessed the squirrel faces on many people in my friends and family, I'm deeply grateful I dodged that genetic bullet. Now. To the LW!<br />
___________________________________________<br />
<br />
You I feel for. I know what major dental work is like - I've been looped on those wonderful drugs, too. Part of the reason dentists use that stuff is so that the patients won't have any memory of the crunching and yanking that went on in your mouth. It's a good deal for them. You're easier to work on when you're not stiff as a board and moaning and you still like them after you come down.<br />
<br />
However, the "coming down" off that stuff is the issue here, isn't it? See, I don't think you did anything wrong. Your so-called friend is the one that behaved badly here.<br />
<br />
Here's why. First of all, any reasonable person would take your abortive groping as a sign that you weren't in your right mind and that leaving you at a bus station would be stupid and potentially dangerous. Had it been me, I would have changed the plan, taken you home, and babysat you until I KNEW that those drugs had cleared your system. That's just what friends do for each other. They keep each other safe.<br />
<br />
But is that what your "friend" did? Hell no! He dumped you at the station and (I'm guessing here, but I think I'm right) didn't even call to see if you were all right. At work, you're suddenly persona non grata in his world, because of something HE TOLD YOU you did when you were so high you couldn't see straight.<br />
<br />
Do you really want to consider this guy a friend?<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
He was never your friend. Even if the groping really happened (and we only have his word for that) and was coming from some deep id-based desire on your part, a friend would have laughed it off and forgotten the whole thing. A GOOD friend wouldn't even give you the details about what you did, other than to tell you you were acting like a twit. A funny twit. The guy is a jerk. Keep the same attitude at work that you always have and let it be. You can't change his attitude. Take it as a lesson in his character and move on.<br />
<br />
Here's something else to consider, though. Has it occurred to you that the reason he's not comfortable around you is that he LIKED it when you stuck your hand down his pants, even just a little bit? You know, maybe he had a little tingle.... a twitching in the old block and tackle....a slight change in the angle of the dangle.... Just thinking.....<br />
<br />
<br />
3. I remember it well, being a college student on the quest for cheap rent. Like yesterday. The basement apartments, the seedy neighborhoods, the creepy landlords..... It's a story as old as the existence of universities - a rite of passage, if you will. It's only now, over 20 years after the fact, that I can bring myself to see the humor of my living in that silverfish-infested, creaky-floored, next-to-the-biker bar dump that was under $200.00 a month. I got out of THAT lease as fast as I could, too.<br />
<br />
But this is about you and your conscience. To review... You find yourself living in a seedy apartment in a seedy neighborhood with a seedy landlord that you just now discovered is a registered sex offender who kept underage sex slaves in the building - nay, the very apartment - that you now live in. Gotcha. It's creepy.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure how morally wrong it is to live there, though. Then again, I have stated elsewhere that an apartment is just a box, it was empty before you moved in and it will be empty again when you move out.<br />
<br />
What can you do?<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
The answer to your question is, as many have already told you, nothing. You can't do a thing about it. You have to pay out your lease whether you actually live in the joint or not, so you'll just have to deal.<br />
<br />
I have a couple of questions, though...<br />
<br />
How did you find out all of this information? Did someone tell you? Who? Was it the old lady in 2B that always wears the pink bathrobe that smells of cat pee? Perhaps it was that skinnyyoung man with the red dots on his arms and legs and the twitching problem in 1A? How about the older fella that shouts through the door because he can't open it for all the junk he's hoarded in his apartment. Was it him?<br />
<br />
Then I have to ask.... Did you verify any of this? Did you check your local Sex Offenders Registry? Most registries aren't allowed to tell you the exact nature of the offense, so really, how DO you know those details?<br />
<br />
If I were a cynical person (heavens forfend!), I'd wonder if you were trying on this story to see if you could use it to break your lease and move in with a new boy/girlfriend....<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP! Again...</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
You say in your letter that your landlord is "back in business". What business would that be? The landlord business? Then pay your rent, you prat. The sex slave business? Then call the cops.<br />
<br />
Now go away. Your whining hurts my ears.<br />
<br />
<br />
4. Wow. You're brave. THREE kids? All little? You have your hands full. It's a wonder you found time to write to the Internet Lady!<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Your husband's sister dumps her kids off on you all the time. Mostly in the evenings, forcing you to feed and care for HER brats AND your three (including a newborn) after you've already had a full day baby-wrangling and keeping your house running. Now she's threatening to leave them with you for the entire summer of 2011 and you don't know what to do!<br />
<br />
Of course you already KNOW the answer to your question, right?<br />
<br />
No. That's it. The whole answer. Ok, it's a little more complicated than that. She's your husband's sister, right? You want to keep your husband sweet, and in order to do that, you have to manage things so that she can't complain about you.<br />
<br />
I know that most people who see a stay-at-home mother figure that she's got nothing to do but sit on her ass and eat bon-bons all day. But you know that's a crock, and so does every other woman (or man) who's opted to stay home with the kids. You're working hard and you deserve to focus on YOUR family, not someone else's<br />
<br />
There are a couple of ways you can handle this. You can, as many suggest, have a talk with your husband, tell him that you can't handle FIVE kids alone, and that you want this free babysitting to stop. If he's got anything resembling a heart or a brain, he'll go for that. After all, he has to live with YOU, not his sister. Keeping you happy means him having a happy life, right?<br />
<br />
If he gets shirty about it...tell him you want to go back to work. Say, "Honey, I think if I go back to work, we can just swing hiring a nanny for the kids and a house cleaner to come in every couple of weeks."<br />
<br />
He'll ask you why you want to do that, and you'll answer, "Sweetie, I feel like I'm running a day care anyway with all of the extra work I have to do with your sister's kids. If I'm going to be run off my feet, frazzled and constantly too tired for sex, I'd at least like to get some money out of the deal."<br />
<br />
That should about do it. How hard is that? Why didn't you do it before? Are you frightened of your husband? Do you LIKE being treated like a slave? Is it FUN to be taken advantage of all the time? Of course not!<br />
<br />
Not dealing with this quickly and decisively would be dumb. Stop the nonsense now and you'll be saving yourself either a big blowup later or a nervous breakdown. Your choice.Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-3173728561869525092010-09-23T14:36:00.000-05:002010-09-23T14:36:43.811-05:00Sucks to be You!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV6Wl6OVp4e261HPeRtMQx5t9zHsXv8pKygaz14-4aJP5O9oc_U59zFTyZJiEXvZHCwrIJ99FifN3A8elIp_WnpbVvAimrfxSlKwl0ohcwDw8Pa3t1KICj3klClgfSq7te-qyt-WphpC4/s1600/IMG_1448.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV6Wl6OVp4e261HPeRtMQx5t9zHsXv8pKygaz14-4aJP5O9oc_U59zFTyZJiEXvZHCwrIJ99FifN3A8elIp_WnpbVvAimrfxSlKwl0ohcwDw8Pa3t1KICj3klClgfSq7te-qyt-WphpC4/s640/IMG_1448.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved)<br />
<br />
It's 90 degrees here in the City of Wind today, which is very, very odd. It's just not supposed to be this hot at this time of year. I'll take it, though. This is one of those days I'll be grateful for in February, when I'm all cranky about the cold, right?<br />
<br />
Everyone at <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2268221">Dear Prudie</a> is feeling very sorry for themselves this week, so I've had to change the name of the entry. I have never seen such a bunch of self-pitying whiners!<br />
<br />
<br />
1. You had a teacher that was a bully. I feel for you. I do. I had one of those in third grade. She used to slap a couple of carefully selected kids on a regular basis and she was just...mean. I hated the woman. Other kids used to draw pictures of her falling off cliffs and such. Several of us complained, and like you, we were told that if we behaved ourselves better, we wouldn't have a problem. HAH!<br />
<br />
But that's NOT your current problem, is it? You have a brand new MEd, and you need a job. In your old district. Where the same appalling woman is STILL being nasty to little kids and you just don't want to work with her. Hmmm.<br />
<br />
<b>Sucks to be you. </b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Listen kid, I don't know how old you are, but allow me to give you a life lesson. You are not going to adore every human being that you ever work with in your life. You don't have to, either. No one expects that of you. What they DO expect is civilized behavior and that you learn to be polite to EVERYONE, not just your buddies.<br />
<br />
Sure, I see where you're coming from. Every time you see this woman, the little kid that she spent a year crapping on shivers a little. Probably she's doing the very same thing to another kid right now, and has been doing it to other kids all along. You want to tell on her, but you know you won't be listened to....<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
You don't have the job yet. If you do get the job, what you will have to do is keep your mouth shut and your head down and do whatever it takes to keep that job. Right now, you need to put food on the table and pay off student loans. You don't have the standing, the authority or the money to make a stand right now.<br />
<br />
I have one question for you, though. Why is this the only place you're looking for work? Education systems across the country and being revamped right now and they are screaming for young people with your qualifications to go and work for them. If the only answer is that you're afraid to move, then you'd better re-think that, kid. In this economy you don't get to confine your job search to three square miles and then whine about the choices you have to make.<br />
<br />
<br />
2. This sounds like something people dream about! Three colleagues throw off the traces and go to work for themselves. You have a dream job that's the perfectest perfect situation in the whole wide world except for one teeny little thing....<br />
<br />
Which I have to agree with you about. Going without a bra, particularly if she really needs one, is really unprofessional and rude of your colleague. Why she would do this, after having reined in the girls for her entire adult life, is anyone's guess. It's her problem anyway, not yours. You just don't know how to tell her what you think...<br />
<br />
<b>Sucks to be you!</b><br />
<br />
So what's the big deal? Why so tentative? Are you frightened of this woman? Do you think she might throw something at you if you mention the obvious wobble? Does she pack iron? Or are you just afraid you might blush, so you're looking for an excuse not to bring it up?<br />
<br />
This is a beef that I have with a LOT of people who write to advice columns. I assume that the three of you are friends, right? You'd have to be, to survive in a three-person company. You all know each other pretty well, you all know the business you're in, so what's the big deal? Quit pussyfooting around and<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
You have to call a meeting either at the beginning or the end of the day and say something like, "Shirley (or whatever), this new habit of yours of going bra-less has got to stop. It looks unprofessional and it's not the way we want to attract business. We can't afford to have you undermining our appearance by not taking care of yours."<br />
<br />
OR.... you could just call her into your office and say, "Shirley, cover your tits. It looks sloppy."<br />
<br />
See? Easy! Save yourself the angst! TELL HER!<br />
<br />
Geez, what an idiot!<br />
<br />
<br />
3. Ok chickie-boo. I'll grant you that it must have been nice to have your husband around the house for ten months, especially with the baby. No doubt it made your life easier to have another body around 24/7 to help maintain the house and take the kid when you wanted to go somewhere. I'm sure it's been an adjustment dealing with him working again....<br />
<br />
<b>Sucks to be you!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Let me get this straight.....you wrote to the Internet lady to bitch about your husband HAVING A JOB? Where the hell do you get off with that crap? What are you, made of money that you can afford to have both of you home full time? And what were YOU doing while he was job-hunting? Why weren't YOU working at some stupid retail job or something?<br />
<br />
You claim your son is "hysterical" and you're demanding that your husband change his work hours, even though he's brand-new and this company and no doubt people with his qualifications are a dime a dozen and ALL willing to take his job right now....<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
You silly bitch! Your husband is working those long hours to feed you while you choose not to work and all you can do is whine because he's not home for dinner? Do you have any idea how lucky you are right now? Do you understand that people are ending up homeless because they just can't find work?<br />
<br />
Here's my advice. When your husband gets home tonight, you will be wearing a pretty apron and nothing else. You will be by the door, with a martini or alcoholic beverage of his choice on a tray, waiting for him. When he has finished that, you will tell him how grateful you are that he is willing to work those long hours to support his family.<br />
<br />
You will thank him and you will apologize to him for being such a bitch. Because that's what you're being right now, a whiny, entitled bitch. Deal.<br />
<br />
<br />
4. Ah, other people's kids. Your kid's best friend sleeps over and won't eat what you cook. This has become a Big Deal and the focus of your life right now, because naturally, what someone else's kid eats or doesn't will probably destroy The World As We Know It.<br />
<br />
<b>Sucks to be you!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Sure, you know how to handle a picky eater if it's your own kid. So what's the big deal with this one? No parent ever wins this fight if they allow it to become a fight, and the kid you're complaining about isn't even yours!<br />
<br />
<b>SHADDAP!</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Have you even considered calling the child's parents and ASKING what you can do about this? Did it even cross your mind that you can conspire with whoever normally feeds this kid and come up with something that will work on the nights she stays over?<br />
<br />
Seriously, how is it that this never crossed your mind before? It's such a no-brainer!<br />
<br />
And here we are at my latest pet peeve AGAIN. TALK TO THE OTHER MOM. Duh, fucking duh!<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Now here I have to interject on the picky eater thing. Lots of people on The Fray are dispensing a lot of "wisdom" about how to raise a kid that will eat whatever you put in front of it. They are all missing the point that the kid in question isn't the LWs kid! Her pickiness is her parents problem!<br />
<br />
That said, my Cool Niece is now 3 1/2 years old. She is not terribly picky. In fact, her mother never gave her the option of having anything but healthy food, so I can't see her ever becoming "the kid who will only eat white food" or whatever.<br />
<br />
She does get some choice in her dinners, though. The protein is a set item - say turkey burgers or whatever. THEN her mother will ask if she wants (for example) broccoli or carrots. The kid chooses one. There are no other options. The same goes for dessert - blueberries or peaches? And so on. It works.<br />
<br />
I have never seen her throw a fit at the table - which is a good thing. According to her mother though, upon being presented with a bowl of Spaghetti-Os at a friend's house, the kid leaned over and told her mom, "Mommy, I don't like this," in a stage whisper.<br />
<br />
That is the moment my friend was quite willing to say, "Who let that kid in here? Because I've never seen it before in my life!"Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-39634820438557550842010-09-02T15:45:00.004-05:002010-09-02T17:18:55.368-05:00SHADDAP!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprb7M6BkY-NDj5xG78AOkL-rjZk-uPA1u6enwru-q9c_Puloxe6MD1IotAOmomZvNAvOcbszEecLGealoosMTFLm_5Kpr4nvK3_PtQksm4cqy_82n96RRNH5TFxhExttOtoCUo3Jdt3g/s1600/IMG_1380.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprb7M6BkY-NDj5xG78AOkL-rjZk-uPA1u6enwru-q9c_Puloxe6MD1IotAOmomZvNAvOcbszEecLGealoosMTFLm_5Kpr4nvK3_PtQksm4cqy_82n96RRNH5TFxhExttOtoCUo3Jdt3g/s400/IMG_1380.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512420733953849442" /></a><br /><br />(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)<br /><br /><br />Labor Day is this weekend, and so I have to ask.... Does summer feel like it's over to you? We've still got 80+ degree temperatures, and even though it finally cooled off a bit, we know that's not going to last. It's been one of the hottest summers on record here in the City of Wind, and no matter how many people I hear whining for cool weather, I don't want it yet. The Boy is one of the whiners, but he gets to work in California during the week. He'll only experience snow on the weekend, and probably won't even have to shovel, so I'm ignoring him on this point.<br /><br />A lot of people use Labor Day as a dividing line. People with kids send them off to school, so the kids definitely feel that way. I'm just relieved that the student drivers are all in classrooms where they belong. There are fashion rules about Labor Day - like no white shoes or gloves afterward. Some people start wearing boots and jeans the next day, even though they WANT to be wearing shorts and sandals. That strikes me as pretty silly. Why sweat if you don't have to? <br /><br />I'm not going to acknowledge it. I will be wearing shorts until I risk turning blue with the cold. I'll wear shorts with sweaters, boots, jackets, even wooly hats - all because somewhere in my head I sincerely believe that the mere baring of my legs will prevent winter from coming. I'll drink margaritas, I'll use the barbecue, I'll eat outdoors, all until I'm forced to go indoors. I know I'll look pretty ridiculous in shorts around Hallowe'en, but that's all right. I'm willing to look like a complete goof to prove my point. I figure I can kid myself at least until there's snow.... whereupon I will embrace sweaters and excavate the long underwear. I'm a summer person, but I'm no dummy. <br /><br />What a crop of letters today! From the dumb to the desperate, Prudie covered them all. Find the letters <a href=http://www.slate.com/id/2265903/>here</a> .<br /><br /><br />1. You have everything you ever wanted and more than many people dare to dream of. You've got a loving husband who will stay with you until death. You have stepkids that adore you, and that you get along beautifully with. It sounds as if your lifestyle is just what you like - I assume both of you have good jobs and financial stability - or as much stability as you could have in this economy, anyway. <br /><br />Life is good. Very good. In fact, you have it better than probably more than half of the people around you do....<br /><br />...but it's not enough, is it?. No. You have fixed on the idea that you absolutely MUST, at all costs, have a baby. NOW. <br /><br />SHADDAP!<br /><br />You jackass! You AGREED when you got married to this paragon of a man that loves you to distraction, that you would not have kids. He made it excruciatingly clear to you that HE DID NOT WANT MORE KIDS. I think the vasectomy makes that pretty clear, don't you? You weren't a kid when you married this man, so you don't have the "young and dumb" excuse. <br /><br />What are your reasons for wanting to spawn now, anyway? Hormones? Whoopee freakin' ding, sugar. Women who already HAVE kids feel like you do just before menopause. Most of them are smart enough to realize it's a bad idea. You even acknowledge in your letter that the ONLY reason you want to have babies is that the clock is running out. That's a lousy reason for having a kid, moron. <br /><br />What do you think is going to happen? You say that you "...want to parent with a partner", which is all very well and good, but you know that THE MAN WHO LOVES YOU (idiot) will not be that person. All right. Let's say you leave your husband, who loves you, and your step-children (who you will have no right to see later) who also love you, and your home, which you love, and the relatively affluent lifestyle that you enjoy..... What will you be left with? <br /><br />Let's see....oh yeah! You'll be a single mother at an age when most people are starting to look forward to retirement! There are precious few men your age that will be willing to take on a stranger's kid. Plan on being alone. YOU won't be able to retire, though, will you? No, you'll be raising a baby and working your tail off to make the money to do that because you won't have child support to rely on. There won't be any college fund.....no retirement for you, either. No, just because you feel a wagging uterus NOW, you'll be working at a job LONG after most of your contemporaries are napping at the beach between rounds of golf (or margaritas). <br /><br />In the meantime, you will be devastating the people who love you. You will destroy THEIR lives and THEIR security, just because you have to act like a stupid teenybopper who thinks babies are toys. Sure. You can leave. You have every right to do that. You can say "damn the consequences" and bugger off into the great unknown if you want to. You'll be throwing away everything of value that you already have, but hey, it's all about you, right?<br /><br />Marriage is NOT just fun and games. Anyone who's been married for any length of time knows that. Throughout your life, there are decisions to be made, and you don't get to take the selfish route every time. Those vows you took come with obligations. You are obligated to think not just about YOU and what YOU want, you also have to consider other people. Part of not being alone means accepting that the person you married is just as important as you are. That's MARRIAGE. Both people benefit, but both people compromise, too.<br /><br />Trying to force your husband to accept a baby now is a betrayal. You knew what you were getting into with this marriage, and you accepted that kids were not part of the picture. You won't think about this. You're too self-centered and idiotic. I would advise that you get your hormone levels tested, because I think about 95% of your problem is that you're already well into menopause....<br /><br /><br />2. This is a stupid question, kid. Why did you write to the Internet lady? It's a no-brainer! <br /><br />You found out that a student a year ahead of you plagiarized the paper that your professor gave you as an exemplar. Why are you agonizing over what to do?<br /><br />SHADDAP!<br /><br />kid, and listen...<br /><br />Make a copy of the paper. Highlight the passages that were plagiarized. Then put a sticky tab in the spots where those passages are in the book. Hand it to your professor. Get another copy of the paper, another copy of the book, and do the same thing. Give that to your dean. <br /><br />See? Easy! <br /><br />Why would you let an academic fraud prosper because you can't make a simple decision? Has it occurred to you that YOU will look like a flaming idiot if anyone ever discovers that you KNEW about the plagiarism and did nothing? YOUR integrity is on trial here, kid. You already know that the fact of the plagiarism proves that your professor's golden boy has no moral compass. <br /><br />Duh. <br /><br /><br />3. Your daughter asked you a technical question, you knew the answer, her boss is thrilled with the answer....and what's your problem? A co-worker accuses you of "cheating" somehow? <br /><br />SHADDAP!<br /><br /><br />Your daughter did the absolute right thing. She asked an expert. That's what she SHOULD do, right? Why should she have to struggle through and reinvent the wheel every time she needs an answer? How stupid would that be? It's the equivalent of inventing the computer from scratch when you have a software issue. You'll get the answer, but by the time you do, it's not relevant and it will cost the company a fortune. <br /><br />So here's the only thing you need to tell the silly ass who's got a stick up her ass about this:<br /><br />SHADDAP! (Add invective as needed. For example, "Shaddap, dumbass!" is acceptable.)<br /><br /><br />4. I am so sorry for your loss. I can't imagine how devastating it was for you to lose your husband at such a young age. I don't know if anyone had told you that, but someone should. It's bad enough to lose a spouse, especially when your children are so young, but to have to deal with his obnoxious relatives is just too much. YOU need time to handle this, you don't need to put up with any extra crap right now. Tell them all to <br /><br />SHADDAP!<br /><br />and leave you alone right now. <br /><br />One of the first things obnoxious relatives do is look to blame someone for a death. You seem to be their obvious choice....which is stupid, but there you go. The only thing you can tell them to do is ask for an autopsy on their own. It's just barely possible they can get a judge to order an autopsy, but they'd have to have a good reason for it. These things can be done. Probably if they tried this, they'd be told to get lost.<br /><br />You aren't obligated to give these people anything. Clearly they have a grudge that is entirely irrational, and by attacking you, they're making themselves feel better. They don't CARE what you're going through, and they don't care what they're putting your kids through. It's obvious that "revenge" and petty bickering are all they're capable of. Don't waste your time or energy discussing anything relating to your husband with them. They've decided what they think and you will never convince them otherwise.<br /><br />See, here's the thing. YOU were his wife. YOU are the one who has the authority to do as you see fit when it comes to funeral arrangements and so on. YOU and his children are more important than anything right now. They don't have to like that, that's the way it is. I'm sure that if they had at least tried to be decent to you, I'm sure you would have reciprocated. It's unfortunate that you had to learn what his relatives are really like now, when you're least able to do something about it. Beware, too. Given the way his relatives are behaving, you might have some of them demanding money - be it from your husband's estate, or his life insurance. They aren't entitled to a damned thing. <br /><br />You say at then end of your letter that you're about to cut ties with these folks...and I give Prudie a big, fat, hairy F- for her answer. She yammers on about how kids "need" their grandparents. Take it from me, you don't want your kids anywhere NEAR these assholes, and YOU have the right to make that decision. They may be related, but they are NOT acting like family. <br /><br />Oh, and don't ever agree to let them see the kids, but not deal with you. You and YOUR children are a package deal. Respect the group or be banned from it, you are the most important person in your kids' lives and never forget it. No one else matters, especially now.Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-85045882217485790052010-08-19T15:22:00.003-05:002010-08-19T16:19:24.883-05:00SHADDAP! ....just.....shaddap...please....you're killing me, here!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaZQ1emhxHikjiqlmhiCev021K10smipVkH4zpYJ2qikhkp1gmOqMwLlXOiOh7SWTzsyjDJoY1qFzqh5PvyRESkll4PjA4Jf0XEt6KMfHq5xUfoMVXWEfSVn5xA_qJRv_aIJM-5ql-Lv8/s1600/IMG_1107.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaZQ1emhxHikjiqlmhiCev021K10smipVkH4zpYJ2qikhkp1gmOqMwLlXOiOh7SWTzsyjDJoY1qFzqh5PvyRESkll4PjA4Jf0XEt6KMfHq5xUfoMVXWEfSVn5xA_qJRv_aIJM-5ql-Lv8/s400/IMG_1107.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507219537391704818" /></a><br /><br />(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)<br /><br />Ok. I'm finally getting it together-ish. I have a problem combining "Summer" and "writing". Summer, you see, is my favorite time of the year. I want to wallow in the sun, bask in the heat, get a tan (and no, I DON'T feel in the least guilty about that), drink gin and tonic.... you know, summer stuff. Sitting at a computer is difficult, and it gets harder and harder for every degree of heat over 75. Today it's 88 and I'm grooving. But I owe you some answers. Source material is <a href=http://www.slate.com/id/2264417/>here</a> .<br /><br />Then, and as an extra special bonus JUST FOR YOU.... I have a dilemma of my own and YOU can tell me what to do. Even if it's SHADDAP! <br /><br /><br />1. You accused someone of cornering you in a bathroom when you were six years old, so you could avoid going to your father's house for a weekend of drunken abuse. Now that you're an adult, you feel guilty. <br /><br />SHADDAP!<br /><br />You did one thing spectacularly right here, kid. You avoided getting in a car with a drunk. You survived your fucked-up family. I understand the impulse to apologize for your actions. If you want to know what happened, ask your mother. Then decide. In the meantime, get some help. <br /><br />I suspect this has more to do with your feelings about your father than anything else. <br /><br /><br />2. Oh boy! Your nasty family member who gets fired a lot for nastiness is applying for a job where you work and you're wondering whether you should give HR the heads up about this lunatic? <br /><br />SHADDAP!<br /><br />Given that this person has issues with everyone, not just you, odds are good that she wouldn't get hired in the first place. That said, there's nothing wrong with tipping the nod to whoever's doing the hiring. Look at it this way. If your company has to find out the hard way that your relative is an unholy bitch and has to fire her, it's going to cost them a fortune. <br /><br />I noticed too, although others haven't, that you say, "...this family member would put my career in jeapordy." <br /><br />You didn't say COULD, you said WOULD. Definitely tattle on the bitch. Then cut her out of your life entirely. It sounds like she's been upsetting you for a long time. Why give her the chance to continue?<br /><br /><br />3. Bloody hell! WTF? ANOTHER round of, "my boyfriend is the perfectist perfect boyfriend on the face of the planet yadda yadda yadda .......BUT?!"<br /><br />SHADDAP!<br /><br />Heaven help us all when stupid people decide that assholes are "perfect". What part of "insanely jealous" did you miss here, sugar? You know that's just going to be code for everyone to tell you to DTMFA, right? Right?<br /><br />You don't owe him a "number". Period. He never should have asked. It's none of his fucking business, it's intrusive, and if he cared about YOU, your past would be meaningless to him. So do us all a favor, send him back to whatever assholeland he sprang from and go find yourself a grownup. <br /><br />But do some growing up yourself, first. <br /><br />Duh. <br /><br /><br />4. You sleep in the same bed as your son for the FOUR DAYS A MONTH you get to see him, except when you're fucking whatever boyfriend you have at the time, and you think this is somehow ALL RIGHT?<br /><br />SHADDAP!<br /><br />Get your son a sofa bed. Tell your boyfriend that he'll have to take care of business himself four times a month. Duh, fucking duh. <br /><br />Better yet, sign off all parental rights to your ex, since he's the parent with the brain in this case. Then you can screw like a bunny any old time you want with the bedroom door open, even, and your son will at least have half a chance at not being a complete head case because of you. <br /><br />It's probably too late.<br /><br /><br />------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><br />Now I know you're all just DYING to know what my dilemma is. I have to say, I just can't wait for Tonto to tell me I'm fulla crap! Are you ready for this? Are you?<br /><br /><br />Dear Readers,<br /><br />As a lot of you already know, I'm a Clay Person. I've been doing this for the better part of a decade now, and I finally feel like I've hit my sculpture groove. People are noticing my work, which is slightly shocking to me, since in the past I've heard things like, "What's it for?" a lot. It's not FOR anything. It just is. One day I'll post some photos of the recent stuff. On to the story.<br /><br />I have to work in a studio, of course, and since few people have the money or the space to work at home, we congregate at facilities where we can take classes, mingle with other Clay People and generally get some work done in a relatively convivial atmosphere. It's generally a pretty mellow group. No one gets wound up about the small stuff, and while there are some personality clashes, we're a civilized bunch and just choose not to deal with people we don't get along with. <br /><br />So here's the problem. In the class I'm taking now (and that I'm planning to repeat because I adore the teacher), there is a Fly in the Ointment. This fellow student is just impossible to deal with. I tried to be friendly. No dice. I tried to be polite. Nothing. I tried to ignore her. She's being even MORE obnoxious. She has a permanent frown and a foul attitude.<br /><br />I asked around and several people have told me that they have issues with this broad. Some who have been cornered by her, have been subjected to literally HOURS of misery as she drones on about her near-death experiences and life-threatening illnesses. Frankly, if she's been as ill as she claims, I don't know how she's still breathing. Everything with her is a downer. She NEVER smiles. Nothing she ever says is positive, even to the people she calls her friends. She's bitchy, she's rude and she sucks the energy out of every room she's in because of her perpetual whining. <br /><br />I felt I'd dodged a bullet, what with the not getting trapped by her and all. When I go to class or if I just go to use the studio I generally use my IPod to zone out and work and the people that know me know that I'm not being rude, I'm just concentrating. If someone wants to talk to me, they either tap me on the shoulder or wave at me when I look up. It works. <br /><br />The dilemma? I've been ignoring the Soul Sucker. I'm a pretty upbeat person (yeah, go ahead Tonto), and I'm there to work, so it's not a big deal. SHE on the other hand, has been hard at work on the rumor mill. Apparently I offended. There are people I've been friendly with for years that now give me shifty looks. The other day, I heard her lecturing a couple of people about what a "stuck up bitch" I am and how "mean" I've been to her. I think I've said ten words directly to her in the last five years. <br /><br />So what to do? You all know that I'm the first one to tell anyone not to rent space in their heads to assholes. I don't have time for nasty people. Then again, what do I do at the studio? Let her spread her nasty little rumors? I suspect by now I eat babies and kick puppies according to her. Frankly, it's been a long time since I've had to be around anyone that's actively malicious towards me. <br /><br />Do I call her on it? Do I tell her to piss off? Do I kill her with politeness? Do I shake her until her teeth rattle? Tell the boys I DON'T have cooties? My instinct is to not engage and let her shoot off her mouth. Eventually she'll yap to the wrong person and get told to shut up, right? <br /><br />Sigh. <br /><br />Comments are always welcome! I'm unavailable to write here next week, but I'll be checking in from time to time....<br /><br />MessyAunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-19816996967662621642010-08-06T14:21:00.008-05:002010-08-06T16:40:43.869-05:00Go ahead. Touch the sharp pointy thing. It won't hurt. Really.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkdLLCvANhoEC-q58OjRbRAbZTQVcnBHa0DRe7aspfmjB7RBv2IGuqRXWjJqPQ6W5m49ULadv0upjGgOOFxoowuMYXUlfnMwsVw_TKXNPbBlXpXYhBT_rdACk5ll-XyNxsb6NomFsQfXo/s1600/IMG_1131.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 397px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkdLLCvANhoEC-q58OjRbRAbZTQVcnBHa0DRe7aspfmjB7RBv2IGuqRXWjJqPQ6W5m49ULadv0upjGgOOFxoowuMYXUlfnMwsVw_TKXNPbBlXpXYhBT_rdACk5ll-XyNxsb6NomFsQfXo/s400/IMG_1131.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502379515394751906" /></a><br /><br />(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)<br /><br /><br />I'm back! Didja miss me? Didja? Oh. Did you even notice I was gone? Oh. Oh well. It was a great deal of fun anyway. <br /><br />So this week, the letters are.... some say boring. Some say repetitive. I say to heck with that! I say that <a href=http://www.slate.com/id/2262763/>these folks</a> are perfect, living examples of jumping off the bridge just because Billy does. That's right. These idiots are so credulous, so naive, so easily led that they demonstrate that people will believe just any damned thing someone told them once upon a time. Or that they read on that web site that gave them all the nasty viruses.<br /><br />It's true, all true I tell ya! The moon really IS made of green cheese! Unicorns not only exist, they poop marshmallows and are the secret power behind Kraft Foods! The aliens have already been here so long that THEY ARE US! ( I double dog dare anyone to tell me where I stole that last bit from.) The medical community IS one big conspiracy....to make us eat fiber! There IS a Good Ship Lollipop! When the government says they're here to help, THEY ARE!<br /><br />Yeesh. Off we go.<br /><br /><br />1. Ok. You got knocked up 20 years ago because you were bonking every guy that struck your fancy, and in the face of all the warnings that you got about sexually transmitted diseases, you believed horny little boys who told you that condoms "pinch". That was it, right? RIGHT? Now your daughter, who you have brainwashed into believing that she has to harass all of your former partners because she "deserves" to be in their wills wants to meet her biological father. The trouble is that you have NO FUCKING IDEA who that could be!<br /><br />SHADDAP!<br /><br />You've got a lot of gall, don't you? I don't believe for a millisecond that "Tom" and "Mike" are the only candidates for Daddy. They might be the only ones who told you their real surnames and gave you their real phone numbers, but that's about it. You thought you could control the situation, didn't you? You sincerely believed that if you pointed your daughter at a couple of these guys, it would shut her up about wanting to know who her other DNA donor is. <br /><br />Boy did you screw that one up! It's bang normal for someone in their late teens to think that all of their problems will be solved if they can find their "real" parents. You've been evasive about who fathered her all her life, and now that she's calling you on it, you have to face the fact that you don't know!<br /><br />I'm glad you got married, and I'm glad that your husband has been a good parent to your daughter. If you had half a brain in your head, you would have told your daughter that the guy who raised her and loved her all her life is her "real" father, not the sperm donor that you hooked up with when you were bored twenty years ago. But you didn't do that, so prepare to answer the following questions from the kid you lied to all her life:<br /><br />a) Mom, what the hell were you doing risking your life (and mine) by fucking multiple men at the same time and not using any protection at all? <br /><br />b) Mom, how fucking stupid do you have to be not to try and find out which one of those guys knocked you up so that you could at least get a little child support for me when I really needed that money? Or did you think it was all right to risk ending up on the street because you were too lazy to bother with all that?<br /><br />c) Gee Mom, why should I believe anything you tell me now? <br /><br />You say in your letter, "So now my daughter wants to go to Tom's house and meet him. What do I do?"<br /><br />The answer to that is NOTHING. Stay out of it. Period. Your daughter is an adult, and who she chooses to speak to or not is HER decision. YOU were the one that launched her at this guy and YOU are going to be dealing with the fallout when she finds out that the poor bugger either really IS sterile or he lied to you. I know, you believed him when he told you that, didn't you, you silly moron. (No baby, it's true! I can't make babies, I'm sterile. See I have this note from the chess coach. I got kicked in the nuts when I won that last match.) Oldest trick in the book for avoiding condom use and you fell for it like, well, the idiot that you were at the time. <br /><br />Eventually, your daughter is going to lose all respect for you, and not because you slept around before she was born. That's not even the issue here. In fact I'm all for a rollicking good sex life when you're young and single. No, she'll decide that she can't trust you not to lie every time you open your mouth. Hopefully her stepfather has enough sense to catch her when this all goes to smash. HE'S going to be the only one that poor kid can rely on here.<br /><br /><br />2. Oh yeah, here we go again. Yet another gormless twit that's been in law school for fifteen minutes and thinks that suing a lawyer is going to set her up for life. Really? How many idiots are going to write in to Prudie with this brilliant plan? I think I've seen it half a dozen times....but there will be more. There are ALWAYS more. <br /><br />You say there's a dude who doesn't work for your company but can still see you at your desk who makes creepy comments to you. THEN, you pop out with, "...I overhear a lot of conversations I find highly offensive," and go on to say that this is a hostile work environment and you just can't deal with it. <br /><br />SHADDAP! <br /><br />So which one is it? How do you think you can scratch the most money out of the situation? Tape the lecherous lawyer or sue the whole firm because you listened in on conversations that didn't concern you? You have to decide, cookie. You don't get to have it both ways, you know. <br /><br />Instead of telling Lecherous Louie to piss off with the leering and the rude comments, are you going to run whining to your boss like a five-year-old who's been told she has "cooties"? Or are you planning on leading him on, recording his every glance, breath, burp, and "hello" on the off chance that you might actually WIN a lawsuit or at least con him out of a settlement? I've got news for you, dear. You're going to lose that one. Especially when he tells your lawyer that you led him on so he would keep making the comments. That's called "trying to pull a fast one" and you clearly aren't smart enough to do it. <br /><br />You gave yourself another out, though, didn't you? You read a paragraph somewhere about hostile work environments and maybe even a case study or two and decided that could be your ticket to life as the idle rich, right? I mean, it's worked for others, why not you? <br /><br />SHADDAP AGAIN!<br /><br />Part of being a lawyer has to do with absolute discretion. The whole notion of confidentiality is crucial. If you decide to reveal private conversations that you were not a party to, that you actually had to make a special effort to LISTEN IN ON, then your ass is truly going to hit the frying pan, and that won't be chicken you smell cooking. You can try that suit. You might even win. But you will NEVER work as an attorney. Ever. Anywhere. You will be law firm poison. In fact, if you try either of your cheesy little plots, you might as well go work in the food service or call center industries right now. Because those are the only jobs you'll ever be able to get.<br /><br />Look, we already know that you're an opportunistic money grubbing creep. It's not a far leap to become an opportunistic money grubbing whore, right? If you REALLY want to cash in, fuck Leering Louie. No, I mean that literally. Haul him into a supply closet and rip his clothes off on a regular basis for the rest of the summer....convince him that he IS The Man, compliment his, er, physique at every opportunity.....meet him in seedy hotels, whatever it takes to get knocked up. Tell him you're on the Pill. If you ARE on the Pill, stop taking it. Duh. Keep the baby. Make him pay you....say child support AND a big whack of cash so you'll keep your mouth shut. You don't want to marry the guy, right? All you're after is the cash!<br /><br />THAT'S a con that's about perfectly geared both for your intelligence AND your level of integrity. And just think, if you keep your figure for awhile, you can do it more than once!<br /><br />*Shudder. What is the matter with people like this? Is it that bad to actually earn money by working for it? Like getting a degree and working at a job? She's just yucky on so many levels.*<br /><br /><br />3. You don't like your Dad. Check. Nothing odd about that. Not all relatives are adorable, and even nasty people reproduce on occasion. Talking to him is something you avoid if you can, but you remain civil. Civil is good. Civil might keep you in the will. Civil won't result in your mother or siblings getting up your nose about how "mean" you are not to adore the old coot. As a plan, I like it. As a plan, A+.<br /><br />But... somehow he discovered Facebook. Oops. He wants to be your friend. Oops. Oh shit, right? If you do make him your FB buddy, he's going to find out about all the nasty things you said about him! So much for staying in the will, right?<br /><br />SHADDAP!<br /><br />I have an answer for you, but you're not going to like it. Here goes (and I know I sound like an old lady here, so suck it up): If you are posting things on Facebook that you don't want known to the entire world, DON'T POST THEM. <br /><br />Isn't that easy? I don't care what your settings are. I don't care how easy it makes communication with all of your sixty gazillion "friends". You don't get to post everything about your life on the Internet and expect to have any privacy left at all. Period. There ARE no private conversations on the web. There is no way you can keep any secrets. If you choose to put your entire life on display, then you can't whine when someone wants in. <br /><br />So to the solution. Either cancel your account, which is what I would do, because it creeps me out no end that anyone would open themselves, their spouse, their children and their personal information to the world, OR..... write your father a letter. On paper. With a pen. It's easy. I'll help:<br /><br />a) First you have to get a piece of paper. White is a good color. Men in general don't generally appreciate the fancy stationery or scented pens and crap like that. No. Construction paper does NOT count. And you may NOT use paper with lines on it unless you're under ten years old. No, you may NOT tear out the end paper of a book. Plain. White. Paper. Copy paper will work. <br /><br />b) Ok. Got your paper? Now you need a pen. No. A Sharpie marker is not acceptable. Neither is crayon, pencil crayon or grape-scented washable markers. Find an actual pen. It doesn't matter if it's a ball point or roller ball....and it doesn't matter if the ink is blue or black (black is better - he's 80, it's easier to see). No, not red, not green. <br /><br />c) Now you need to sit down on a chair, at a table or desk. No. CLOSE the laptop. Push it to the back of the desk. You won't be using it. Good. Put the paper on the table, open the pen.....<br /><br />d) Write the date at the top of the page. What? How can you not know the date? Where the hell is your calendar? What do you mean "what's a calendar?!" Oh all right. Open the damned computer. It should be in "Dashboard". Good. Now. Write the date. With the pen. On the paper. Yes, it IS all right if you print. *shaking head sadly*<br /><br />e) Now you're ready to write a letter. Start with "Dear Dad", tell him ONLY what you want him to know, sign it "Your Loving and Devoted Daughter" and put it in an envelope upon which you have written his address, put a stamp on it..... A stamp. You may have heard of them. They're sold at places called "Post Offices". No really, Post Offices not only exist, they're in your neighborhood...... Oh shut up. Here's a goddamned stamp. It goes on...never mind. I'll do that for you.<br /><br />f) Put the photographs you want him to see (or a zip drive - he does have a computer you know) in the envelope, seal it and walk it to a mail box. No. A REAL mail box. They're blue. Yeah... with the flippy lid. No, they AREN'T fancy recycling bins...No, you're thinking of a Tardis.... <br /><br />In a couple of days, he'll get the letter, find out what you want him to know, and he'll be a happy camper. Do this every couple of months or so and you can even skive off phoning the man if you want to.<br /><br />Problem solved. Twit.<br /><br /><br />4. Oh dear. AGAIN we get subjected to "my boyfriend is the perfectest perfect person in the whole wide wonderful world but..."<br /><br />Can it. We've all heard it before. Wasn't there some idiot who was willing to dump her man because her friends said he wasn't good-looking enough here a couple of months back? Was it even on Prudie? Oh well. It might have been somewhere else. Nonetheless, shit like this is shoveled by the truckload in advice columns. <br /><br />You're single. He's single. You like each other. Hell, you even love each other. Life together for the long haul is not out of the question. You're both happy... Do you have any idea how rare that is? That two people get along so well that meshing their lives is just one happy process with no angst and ugliness? Clearly not. Sigh.<br /><br />Naturally, you have to dump a fly in the ointment. A whole bloody swarm of them. You just had to, didn't you? I mean, you can't just let things progress and have a happy and fulfilling life. Nooooooo that would be too easy. YOU have to listen to a jealous bitch "friend" who's trying to destroy all that....and you're actually considering LETTING her do that!<br /><br />SHADDAP!<br /><br />What is this bullshit about it being "normal" to fight? What the hell is that? Your FRIEND might think that's normal, no doubt because the weekly donnybrook is the only time she and HER husband interact at all. Did it ever cross your pointed little brain that she's jealous because you're happier than she is? No? Has it not crossed your mind that fighting all the time is not only stressful and hard on a relationship, but NOT HEALTHY? <br /><br />Listen. No one goes through life without strife. When two adults live together, they are not going to instantly agree on everything. That's normal. What's NOT normal is living for the moment you're screaming at each other like a couple of deranged howler monkeys. It's NOT normal to actually look forward to flying crockery, stomping around like a surly adolescent or slamming doors. It's NOT normal to have to budget a few hundred dollars a month to repair drywall and replace broken windows. NOT NORMAL. <br /><br />There are MILLIONS of couples who don't do this. They get along. They make each other happy. They WORK at making each other happy. Arguments are few and not heated. They do this for decades at a time. Many of them do this until they die, and THEY LIKE IT THAT WAY. It's normal to be happy. It's normal to be loved and to love someone without drama. If you can manage this, then yes, you will run across jealous assholes like your "dear friend" who are so envious of your success that they'll try to smash your life so you'll be as miserable as they are. <br /><br />This woman is no friend of yours. If you permit her to split up a relationship that makes you happy, then you are a fool. Tell her ONCE that you aren't interested in the commentary about your relationship and if she can't just be happy for you, she can get lost. Dump HER, keep HIM and don't let anyone tell you how you should feel. HE is the most important person in your life. Not her. Grow the fuck up and own your life. <br /><br />Have the fun, drink the wine, enjoy the sex and feel free to be a bit smug about it. You've both earned that right.<br /><br />Duh.Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-53618353589094835852010-07-23T12:44:00.003-05:002010-07-23T14:08:01.505-05:00SHADDAP! You Gonna Take That?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiB2J9dOYI97bCYqUgybelmPSvwm20oP9MFtxcssYoVDwfKhSFufCDOob5Tz05e4bKjBISiAraBMzLS7NnwomhnkTdwKPfZtvWKMO8zi7qwtD33Ub1FZMq3lkBCWEF_Ugi_ECd3suIPAI/s1600/FH040003.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 261px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiB2J9dOYI97bCYqUgybelmPSvwm20oP9MFtxcssYoVDwfKhSFufCDOob5Tz05e4bKjBISiAraBMzLS7NnwomhnkTdwKPfZtvWKMO8zi7qwtD33Ub1FZMq3lkBCWEF_Ugi_ECd3suIPAI/s400/FH040003.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497161105410790930" /></a><br /><br />(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)<br /><br />Well, regular readers of my nonsense already know, but here it is for the world: The Boy and I are now American citizens. That's right, kids! No longer will I have to tolerate the "what do Canadians know?" nonsense the *certain* people pop out with when I make sweeping, nonsensical political comments! No more will I have to endure the "you just don't get it" that I get when I crap all over Sarah Palin! <br /><br />Quake in fear, fellow bloggers! I'm a Yank now, babies! <br /><br />Now from time to time, I urge people to listen to a song that I think embodies the answer that ALL of the LWs on <a href=http://www.slate.com/id/2261000/>Dear Prudie</a> need to hear. Something like <a href=http://www.arrogantworms.com/music/malcolm/>this</a> . Yes, if only we could solve our problems like Malcolm! <br /><br />It's going to be 100 degrees here in the City of Wind today, and The Boy and I have pretty much decided that anything involving outdoor activity is just not going to happen. It would be cruel and unusual for us to make ourselves walk on concrete on a day like this, so here we go....<br /><br /><br />1. (Everyone is taking it easy on this LW. I get it. With an unemployed verbally abusive husband, she doesn't need any crap raining down on her. Really.....I get it. I'm trying to understand, I am. Ok. I can't, not completely.) <br /><br />Ok. I gave a smidge of a synopsis above, but I have to ask, what is your major malfunction, kid? You're married a MONTH, your husband is showing his abusive side and you're sticking around? What in blazes for?<br /><br />SHADDAP! How long are you going to take his crap?<br /><br />I have to wonder what went into this "marriage" from the start. I suspect that you dated this guy four times, he love-bombed you and convinced you that you and he are "soul mates" (a bullshit designation that really means 'get a room') and married him without a single thought in your tiny, pointed brain. <br /><br />See, I tell everyone that there are a bunch of conditions EVERYONE should meet before they decide to marry. They need to see their partner:<br /><br />a) Interact with their family.<br /><br />b) Sick. With the flu or something really nasty.<br /><br />c) Ungroomed, as in unshaven or no makeup.<br /><br />d) Interact with pets and children. Even if you aren't planning on either, this is an excellent character test.<br /><br />e) Deal with money. Do they pay their bills? On time? <br /><br />f) After a very bad day at work. Do they blame others for their problems? <br /><br />g) On at least one major holiday. <br /><br />h) Drunk.<br /><br />i) With a hangover.<br /><br />None of these are negotiable. <br /><br />Even if someone passes all THAT without completely disillusioning you, you should STILL not marry until you've known that person for a full year. If it's true love, believe me, a year is NOTHING. I'm deadly serious here, folks. If the person who wants to marry you wants to do it instantly, that is a massive red flag. Waiting harms no one and it gives you both a chance to make a rational decision. And for those of you that think rationality shouldn't come into it - your life will be (or already is) a train wreck.<br /><br />But you didn't do that, did you? Now you're finding out exactly what kind of person you married, and trust me on this, it is only going to get worst. You say "...I'm starting to feel like a martyr because I have to apologize for every little transgression.", what he hears is, "I'm sorry I'm sorry, please dominate me and tell me what to do! Treat me like a slightly mentally impaired toddler because I agree with you that I'm too stupid to live!"<br /><br />Are you hearing me? Every time you apologize, you are giving him permission to shit on you. This is how he makes himself feel good. It has nothing to do with him being suddenly unemployed. If he had kept his job, this would have happened anyway, but he might have waited for you to have children that he could threaten.<br /><br />You say that "...he said I can't fault him for my faults."<br /><br />Are you paying attention to what that really MEANS? It means that in this relationship, you are not human. You are a servant, a dog to be beaten, a non-human. So how long are you going to take it? Are you going to wait until he hits you? Are you going to let him force you to quit your job because of stress? Do you think you deserve this? If so, why? <br /><br />Get the hell out of that house. RUN, don't walk to a therapist to find out why your self-image is so crappy. The man you married TARGETED YOU because you are willing to be abused. Don't let him make his fantasies come true at your expense.<br /><br /><br />2. (I'm going to catch hell for this one. I've already run contrary to most peoples' opinions on it, so feel free. I still think I'm right.)<br /><br />Right. You are a happily engaged 20-something, looking forward to a long, happy and prosperous life with your soon-to-be husband. Congratulations. But you can't just let that lie, can you? No, you have to hunt for trouble. I get that you went through a depressive stage in college. Most college students do at one point. It's a big adjustment, big decisions are being made, and most college students are at the exact age when everything, no matter how trivial isn't just important, they're LIFE AND DEATH.<br /><br />You made a half-assed suicide attempt, failed, recovered, and are determined that it will never happen again. So what's the problem? You say you think you should tell your fiance?<br /><br />SHADDAP! Stop listening to the 70s "reveal" freaks!<br /><br />See, I have a different take on this. A lot of people think that when you marry someone, that person is entitled to know about your every burp, fart, sexual escapade and mistake. They're all in favor of telling that person about the time you nicked yourself with a razor trimming your pubic hair in high school, the one and only time you threw up because you were THAT drunk, the bad dye job you did when you decided to be blond, the time you went under the bleachers with Billy just because you wanted to see what an erection looks like up close, the time you got detention because you called one of the mean girls a bitch and someone overheard.... <br /><br />It's all bullshit. No one needs that level of detail. If you don't want to talk about your suicide attempt, YOU DON'T HAVE TO. It would only be fair to let him know about that depressive episode, but something as personal and upsetting as that episode is something that you're allowed to keep private if you want to. He doesn't need all the gory details.<br /><br />See, good marriages are built by people who are both a couple AND individual adults. We all need a little space, a little privacy from time to time. Revealing your every dream, wish and sexual fantasy (no matter how odd) is something that successfully married couple just don't do. They love each other. They share the big things. They understand that they are separate people who have inner lives of their own. A good partner will NEVER try and force you to reveal everything. NEVER.<br /><br />Prudie is right about one thing. If you're afraid to tell your fiance because you think he might leave you if you do, then he's an asshole that you don't want to be married to in the first place. In fact, I would add that little tidbit of advice to LW #2s list. While you don't have to reveal everything that you'd sooner keep private, if you're do decide to tell and that person reacts badly, then you need to find someone you can trust.<br /><br /><br />3. Ah, cubicle wars! It's been awhile since we've seen one of these. I'm assuming that you are a detail-oriented person who's in some sort of technical field. You need to concentrate on your work. But wait! There's a hitch! YOUR cubicle has become the Social Center in the office. People stand over you and blither away all day long while you're trying to work!<br /><br />SHADDAP! Are you going to let a bunch of yappy idiots decide how you do your job?<br /><br />Yes. I understand that your boss is one of the culprits. It sucks that you can't even hide in a meeting room without being snooped on. So DO something about it! <br /><br />Your boss seems to be a nice, social person. TELL him/her about this. Let them know that you need a quiet place to work in. Everyone is telling you this, it's true, so listen up! Don't sit there seething. Don't be a timid twit trying to drown out the noise. Don't ASK if people will be quiet. <br /><br />Go to your boss first thing in the morning, explain your noise issues and offer a couple of suggestions. You could ask to work at home one or two days a week. Tell him/her that you'd like to take over a meeting room from time to time and put a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door. Ask if there's an empty office you can borrow. <br /><br />See, going to a higher-up and whining isn't going to get you anywhere unless you can add some concrete solutions as well. If you really want to solve this problem, you're going to have to get proactive and deal with it instead of whining to the Internet Lady. <br /><br />Duh. <br /><br /><br />4. This is an easy one. You live as "green" as you can, but draw the line at suffering through intense heat with no air conditioning. That's reasonable. Many, many people do exactly the same thing. There are limits to what you can live with, and life is compromise. <br /><br />However..... I love these "howevers"..... you have a so-called "friend" that goes to your home once a week, accepts your hospitality - along with snacks and beverages, no doubt and "...always manages to lecture me about how I'm killing the environment because of my own selfish wants."<br /><br />SHADDAP! How long are you going to take that crap?<br /><br />Some "friend"! Why the hell are you asking what you should do about this? Hell, even if it were a family member who never saw you without berating you, I'd recommend the same thing! <br /><br />KICK THE BITCH OUT OF YOUR HOME!<br /><br />Is that so hard? You could say some snappy things to her as quid pro quo, like spraying her with room freshener and remarking about how she smells like a homeless person fermenting in the heat, but why would you go there? <br /><br />Do you waste time on the religious freaks that knock on your door? Befriend telemarketers because you don't want to be rude? Have you ever hurled your body over a puddle so that someone could walk on you? How about letting a stranger hit you with a stick because you can see he just needs to vent? No? Gee, I wonder why?<br /><br />Grow the hell up! This person is TRYING to make you feel bad for reasons of her own, so why are you letting her do it? Do you LIKE being treated like garbage? <br /><br />This idiot is not your friend. Stop being her doormat.Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-31025940948590640552010-07-15T14:15:00.007-05:002010-07-15T16:30:54.667-05:00SHADDAP! Paddle the Prats Edition!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoLwIMr4GdJDv91PQ8AKx3qvoUWROgb3OXBrPBGyleQDzIpiMjdG6G7xux9Q24P3JO01Ez_RWW66vU8ewV9rM4qRVCzhCnbulKbmzVuog1H5Yb2Tm8FmaZRfQNCJJGEuh8a9lpROKgOqc/s1600/IMG_0963.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoLwIMr4GdJDv91PQ8AKx3qvoUWROgb3OXBrPBGyleQDzIpiMjdG6G7xux9Q24P3JO01Ez_RWW66vU8ewV9rM4qRVCzhCnbulKbmzVuog1H5Yb2Tm8FmaZRfQNCJJGEuh8a9lpROKgOqc/s400/IMG_0963.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494214473239794482" /></a>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOSmQcnhRI53rGJRjvR_a5NNJUav2vlIAQQy-8uLgBwTY8Lv86XUA5Tj07-NoSjWBK7ZL4BddAuUfgjV7brccviY1WbLrAlXzCLuFmczpJli1EvSU2RCygvQrVda3E3s3OPUfw50k96Uc/s1600/IMG_0854.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOSmQcnhRI53rGJRjvR_a5NNJUav2vlIAQQy-8uLgBwTY8Lv86XUA5Tj07-NoSjWBK7ZL4BddAuUfgjV7brccviY1WbLrAlXzCLuFmczpJli1EvSU2RCygvQrVda3E3s3OPUfw50k96Uc/s400/IMG_0854.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494214462741888866" /></a>
<br /><div>(Photographs copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)</div><div>
<br /></div><div>News! News from the Messy household! Today, we passed our citizenship tests and we're being sworn in as brand-spanking-new U.S. citizens next week! Holy cow! Woo Hoo! That's right, they'll be taking away our Green Cards and letting us get passports instead. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>We've lived here for ten years. It took five to get the Green Cards and another five to be allowed to apply for citizenship. We started the process April 1. I expected a wait. Others told me that it would probably be six months or so. But no. Either Canadians (or maybe it's us) are so boring that they just shove us along, or Homeland Security isn't as backed up as we thought. Either way, we're out for dinner tomorrow night to celebrate.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>
<br /></div><div>However, our humble accomplishments are as nothing in the face of the dim-witted, weak-minded, cowardly dumb assedness of this week's letters! It's true, all true! And remember, you heard it <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2260483/">here/><a/> at Dear Prudie first!</a>
<br /></div><div>
<br /></div><div>1. Wow. Lady, you've got a problem here, and I don't mean the size of your boobs. How did you manage to get to the age of 30+, have a career, buy a home, raise a daughter and STILL wonder if you should get a boob job so your boyfriend will like you more? </div><div>
<br /></div><div>What kind of wimp-ass idiot are you, really? </div><div>
<br /></div><div><b>SHADDAP! You prat!</b></div><div><b>
<br /></b></div><div>Ten days of sex only ONCE a day for being a patsy!</div><div><b>
<br /></b></div><div>All men watch porn. ALL of them. ALL men masturbate. Even if they are getting it twice a day, believe me, they all do it. MOST men like looking at big boobs. I'll give you that this is only a straw poll based the opinion of one guy (The Boy), but I'm willing to take it. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Are you with me here? Men (for the most part) like big boobs. At least to look at. Men are visual creatures.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Now here's the problem, and this is where you should pay attention. MOST WOMEN DO NOT HAVE BIG BOOBS. Haven't you noticed that in your 30+ years on the planet? Better yet, can you not tell the difference between the real and the fake? If not, why not? Fake ones are usually screamingly obvious. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Not only that, natural and unenhanced monstertitties are usually headed downward in a pretty serious way by the time they're your age and especially if the woman has had kids....like you. And that ain't pretty. There's no way you can dress it up to look good when your 36DDDs have become 36 Extra Longs. In fact, you can take it as a given that if you were suddenly to appear with balloon boobs, you would be fooling NO ONE. That is never going to look natural.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>So, now think hard. That's right, I want to see steam rising from those little ears of yours..... ready?</div><div>
<br /></div><div>If you think for one millisecond that spending several thousand dollars to buy those bogus/phony/fake beach balls that will hurt your back and make you look stupid will change your boyfriend's porn habit, you are dreaming in Technicolor, sugar.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>You're already having sex once or twice a DAY according to your letter, so I'd say it's pretty obvious that your boyfriend is not only not regarding your B cups with revulsion (Did you read the part where I said men are visual creatures? Or were the words too big?), he likes them just fine. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>He doesn't have a problem. You do. You need to look into why you're such a prat that you would consider major surgery based on the passing remark of a guy who clearly loves you, but was a little embarrassed when you noticed him having a chat with Mr. Happy on his own. Talk to the man, tell him you need to be spanked a little next time, and enjoy all of that extra whoopee you're getting. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>
<br /></div><div>2. This is almost as common a letter as the "My boyfriend is perfect but, ..." idiocy of the above letter. Seriously. It seems that there are people all over the place who are incapable of saying "no" to...well, anyone and everyone. You're killing yourself to accommodate people who don't seem to give a damn what you think and for what?</div><div>
<br /></div><div><b>SHADDAP! You sissy! </b></div><div><b>
<br /></b></div><div>And fifty cardboard tubes from toilet paper will be tossed at you as punishment for being such a prat!</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Egad woman! How have you managed not to get eaten by bears or something by now? </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Yes. It's got to be hard for your husband's aging parents not to be as active as they were. You say that for them to travel alone is difficult, and that's fair. But...but... That doesn't mean that you have to haul them along on your every vacation for the rest of their lives! </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Oh, fertheluvamike! How did you get started on this spiral? I have no doubt that your husband finds it disturbing when his mother calls every night demanding 100% of your time and attention. No doubt at all. Probably his parents ARE lonely. But have you really LOOKED at their situation lately?</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Are these people living on their own? Do they get out at all? Do they have any friends that they see on a regular basis? Are there activities that they participate in? Do they spend all day, every day alone in that house together making each other crazy?</div><div>
<br /></div><div>See, a lot of people are wondering if there's Alzheimer's in the offing here. I doubt it, but you might want to make sure your in-laws see a doctor soon. I suspect the REAL problem is that they're desperately lonely, never go out, and that their only contact with the outside world is ... you. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>I know that children of aging parents will scream and yell that elderly people need to stay in their homes forever. I also know that many elderly people will be utterly miserable and house-bound and STILL insist that they like it that way. That's not necessarily true. Often ( and I've seen this in action), moving out of their house and into an apartment with other people their age changes everything. Suddenly they have peers again! People to talk to that can understand them! </div><div>
<br /></div><div>It can be magical. You and your husband need to talk to his siblings about this. Kick their asses to get their attention if you have to. There will be turmoil, but point out that none of them are around to see their parents deteriorating. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>No, you are NOT considering slapping them in a nursing home and abandoning them. You'll be helping them set up an independent life where they don't have to be afraid of isolation, where there will be people around them all the time. Change is good, especially for people as lonely as your in-laws. Many of these places also arrange vacations, too!</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Now. Quit being such a wimp and deal with this situation. You don't have to cave to the demands of a lonely old lady all the time. You are not being selfish. What you want is normal. You and your husband DO deserve to take a break on your own sometimes. Stop letting yourself be bullied and deal. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Yeesh. How have you managed to work for all these years? Do I have to tell you how to use the bathroom next?</div><div>
<br /></div><div>
<br /></div><div>3. This is painful. Seriously seriously painful. This is yet another example of a grownup acting like a whiny toddler. How do you go on? No, I mean that. How do you manage to get out of bed in the morning if you can't manage to stifle a baby intern when she acts like an asshole?</div><div>
<br /></div><div><b>SHADDAP! Ya big wimp!</b></div><div><b>
<br /></b></div><div>No dessert for you for a week!</div><div><b>
<br /></b></div><div>Ok, I get that you work in some sort of social services setting and that such environments tend to lead one to overshare. It must be the touchy-feelie thing going on with people like you who take these jobs in the first place. I get it. I also get that you're proud that you've gotten your bipolar disorder under control. Congratulations, by the way. It can't have been easy to get where you are.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>So what's the problem? Bipolar isn't stupid! Neither are you, or you wouldn't be doing the job you are now. I understand that everyone in your office knows about this, and I think it's admirable that you see yourself as an advocate for people who have your condition. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Given all that, why are you letting some jackass intern with a bachelor's degree push you around like a bully on the playground? In fact, why didn't you shut that silly bitch down the first time she opened her mouth? </div><div>
<br /></div><div>You SAY that you and she disagree a lot. She's a know-it-all, she's obnoxious and she's not shy about telling you off. She engages in that cheapest and nastiest of ways to shut you up, too. Diminishing you as a human being by claiming that any protest you make to her assholery is about your mental illness is discriminaton.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>SO WHY DO YOU LET HER DO IT? </div><div>
<br /></div><div><b>SHADDAP! Again!</b></div><div><b>
<br /></b></div><div>You are supposed to be the adult here. YOU are supposed to be training HER. She only pulls this bullshit because YOU permit it. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Now that you've finally gotten in through your head that you don't want to take her crap, you don't know how to shut her up? Here are a couple of things you can say when she claims you're an idiot because you have an illness:</div><div>
<br /></div><div>a) Wow. You argue just like a little girl. Oh right. You ARE a little girl. Shut up, little girl.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>b) Are you on the rag?</div><div>
<br /></div><div>c) What's the matter, you can't come up with some facts, so you resort to bullshit?</div><div>
<br /></div><div>d) There's a soap dispenser in that bathroom. Fill your mouth and swish, bitch. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>e) This is a ball peen hammer. Use it on a finger whenever you're tempted to act like a bigot. Or I will.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>All of the above will shut her up, if you use them correctly. Only (c) will keep you out of serious trouble if she screams discrimination. The others would be more fun, but I assume you want to keep your job. Of course you also know that you should have come up with that the FIRST time she tried to crap on you, right?</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Then... you have to make sure that you never work with her again. I assume you have evaluation forms to hand it. Tell your boss what you told the Internet lady, you silly ass. Here, I'll write it for you:</div><div>
<br /></div><div>"X is a nasty, bigoted, ugly-tempered know-it-all who has somehow faked her way in to this job, where we are supposed to be helping others. Her snotty attitude, lack of real knowledge of her subject (because if she DID know her subject, she wouldn't resort to insults) and complete unwillingness to learn lead me to conclude that she has a sterling career ahead of her as a fire-tower ranger or one-man submarine captain. Night watchman at a lead smelting plant is another brilliant career option that would suit her personality to perfection. She should never be in contact with other humans."</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Oh, and talk to your boss about her NOW. Duh. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>
<br /></div><div>4. Ah families! Gotta love them, right? NOT! This is something I've said for years - you don't have to put up with crap from your family that wouldn't take from a total stranger. You need to have that tattooed somewhere where you'll see it every day. I suggest upside down on your stomach, so when you shave your legs in the shower you can't miss it. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>To recap:</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Your step-brother died. (Sorry about that, BTW.) Your sister asked you to get flowers. As a former florist and Master Gardener, you made a lovely arrangement with flowers from your garden, which your stepmother loved. Good on you, kid. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>But wait! Your sister pitched a fit and called you cheap! Your stepsisters joined in! Oh, the horror! The drama! Whatever shall you do?!?!</div><div>
<br /></div><div><b>SHADDAP! </b></div><div><b>
<br /></b></div><div>You are hereby sentenced to leave ONE dandelion in your lawn alive for THE ENTIRE SUMMER. ( I can't think of a worse punishment for a Master Gardener, because I'm one, too.)</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Ok. Do you get that you're not the villain here? Has it penetrated your skull that your sister looked like a mentally unbalanced idiot by pitching a fit at the funeral? She's the one that made a complete ass of herself. YOU did what was asked of you, you did it well, and that should be the end of it. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>But no. And here's where I have to wonder what the hell is the matter with your family. Not only are these three ladies are calling you and haranguing you about it EVERY DAY, but you are LETTING THEM DO IT! What is that? </div><div>
<br /></div><div>There are some very obvious ways to shut this down, you know. You did know that, right? Hmm. Apparently not. Ok. Here goes. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>a) Use your call display, dippy! If you see their number, DON'T PICK UP. See? how hard is that? Why are you making yourself available for them to abuse? You know what they're going to say, so don't let them do it. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>b) If you are so foolish as to pick up the phone, then before they have a chance to say anything, tell them, "Gee, you must have a really fucking boring life if this is how you entertain yourself." THEN hang up. Repeat as needed. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>c) (And let me add here that I'm feeling pretty clever about this one.) Send them a bill. Fercyinoutloud, YOU know what flowers cost, don't you? The prices are insane, you don't always get what you order and they aren't always that fresh. A large arrangement can run into HUNDREDS of dollars! </div><div>
<br /></div><div>You provided a service for that funeral that saved someone a LOT of money. Your sister's ranting that you were somehow "cheap" for doing it yourself only goes to prove that she's an idiot, and it makes her look even MORE foolish than before. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Now. Sit down and put on your thinking cap. Think about how you're a grown-up now (or look just like one). Think about how grown-ups don't generally bend over so someone can hit them. Try hard to figure out why you're willing to take crap from mental defectives. Now go tell them to piss of, talk to the family members you like and forget this whole mess. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Good girl.</div>Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-21554274654523658252010-07-08T11:17:00.003-05:002010-07-08T13:12:34.948-05:00SHADDAP! Want some cheese with that whine?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV6RtHLeUSXQqS0OuBwtv2djSst1M2GgzE2A7kQPEa6o1PhXdGLO7bflb-YmAW4PeSxsvH2L-XQXPYspc5bnhEvT6215i0WRBn-TmbbwevKfm0Rlil9bY4l3oFKJwOaPq6bIYp75LKZaY/s1600/IMG_0843.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV6RtHLeUSXQqS0OuBwtv2djSst1M2GgzE2A7kQPEa6o1PhXdGLO7bflb-YmAW4PeSxsvH2L-XQXPYspc5bnhEvT6215i0WRBn-TmbbwevKfm0Rlil9bY4l3oFKJwOaPq6bIYp75LKZaY/s400/IMG_0843.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491571123746156370" /></a><br /><div>(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.) </div><div><br /></div><div>For those that are interested, the cat on the far left of this photo (Charlie) is only a seven month old kitten. The girls are two years old. Charlie has a lot of growing to do. This DOES make me nervous, because he's over ten pounds right now.</div><div><br /></div><div>Right. To work. </div><div><br /></div><div>I want to start with a whine of my own. Here's me, whining: I have a hideous head cold that has me wishing my eyes would just pop out to relieve the pressure. The fever that I had all day yesterday is finally gone. I think my brain is melting, though. I'm so clogged that the drugs are barely making a dent. I lost my voice three times yesterday. Woe is me. Woe! Woe! Woe!</div><div><br /></div><div>How's that? Actually, I DO feel better today, but I was overcome with guilt because when The Boy had this cold, I wasn't as sympathetic as I should have been. When I told my beloved that I was sick, the answer I got was... let's just say pretty sarcastic and leave it at that, shall we? I figure we're even now.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ok, off to the letters! Find them <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2259807/">here</a> .</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>1. Oh, you poor darling! I bet you're wishing you'd had that brain upgrade in high school instead of that shoe shopping spree! Oh. You don't get how stupid you were? </div><div><br /></div><div>Let's review. On the very first day of your dream internship, you got sloppy, disgusting drunk, thought going to your boss's home was somehow a good idea, you barfed all over his living room and you're wondering if you should punish HIM for trying to kiss you? </div><div><br /></div><div>You have problems, little girl, and sexual harassment is NOT one of them.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>SHADDAP! No more wine for you!</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>When are you going to realize that you acted like a pinheaded moron from the sticks whose social skills include embroidery and pegging rocks at frogs in the woods? How stupid are you, anyway? </div><div><br /></div><div>You got drunk. Very, very drunk. Sloppy, disgusting, vomiting drunk. </div><div><br /></div><div>You got into a strange man's car (you only knew the guy for one day, even if he IS your boss) and went home with him and you think HE behaved badly? What did you expect? (For those of you who are going to get on my case about how no one deserves to be smooched against their will, you're right. She still acted like a complete ass.)</div><div><br /></div><div>However, you are a very, very lucky little girl, aren't you? Granted, you're too much of a thick headed dolt to understand this, but your boss is TERRIFIED right now. Of course he doesn't want you to quit, moron, he's terrified of a lawsuit! You think he doesn't know the implications of sexually harassing an infant intern? </div><div><br /></div><div>Are you underage? He could get in some serious trouble just because he let you go to that party at all! Oh, and in case you missed it? HE WAS DRUNK, TOO. Otherwise he would NEVER have let you in his car in the first place. Everything that happened after, including letting you sleep it off on his couch, was motivated by pure, unadulterated fear.</div><div><br /></div><div>Take this as a lesson learned, cookie. You don't get to drink on the job - and ANY company-sponsored interaction, even if it's at a bar, IS on the job. A company get-together is NOT a goddamned frat party! A large part of being an intern is so that you can learn to behave like a professional with something to contribute. Wastebaskets full of vomit are not the contribution I'm referring to here.</div><div><br /></div><div>You do realize that you will never work for these people again, right? Even though you'll be able to work there this summer, they've taken your measure and you came up lacking. Everything you did the first day on the job was so unprofessional, so childish, and so stupid that no one is going to want to risk being around you any more. If you complain about the "harassment", you're guaranteeing that you will never work in that industry again.</div><div><br /></div><div>It ain't fair, but where is it written that life should be fair?</div><div><br /></div><div>Pray that no one took pictures of your drunken revelling, kid. Because if they did, the vision of you acting like a jackass at work is going to follow you for the rest of your working life and might even keep you from working at the local Pup'n'Taco in whatever Podunk town you grew up in. Where you apparently belong.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>2. Hoo boy! Lady, you got issues. Somehow you managed to raise a smart, pennywise young man who is considerate of others AND manages to keep his eye on the bottom line. Any five-year-old that manages to save half the price of a $250.00 gaming system by himself is bloody brilliant. Reselling to get an upgrade is even smarter.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ah, but you aren't happy with that, are you. No, his uncle missed a payment and MUST be punished, right?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>SHADDAP! Have a drink and chill!</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>If your son can manage to set up a payment plan so his uncle can have his old gaming system, then he can figure out that his uncle can't afford to finish paying right now. If the kid is upset - and I don't think he is - tell him that Uncle Gamer hasn't got a job, is one step away from ending up on the street, and sonny-boy will have to wait for his twenty bucks. Easy. </div><div><br /></div><div>But no. You aren't happy with that, are you? You want that money, dammit and to HELL with Uncle Gamer! </div><div><br /></div><div>What were you planning on doing? Catch your son's uncle in an alley and beat him with a Nerf bat until he antes up? Put a dead squirrel in his bed? Tell his Mommy? Steal his Teddy bear? Tell all the girls he has cooties? Spread a rumor that he still wears tightie whities?</div><div><br /></div><div>Grow the fuck up, lady and stay out of this. Your kid is smarter than you are. Hell, my kitten is smarter than you and he's only got about three brain cells right now! Or do you WANT your son to learn from Mommy how to be a bullying whiner? </div><div><br /></div><div>Leave the kid alone.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>3. Gotcha. Gay exec, good job, fun people to work with..... It's all good. Are you sure you aren't a certain relative of mine? You SOUND like you're in an identical situation...but then he doesn't waste his time whining! </div><div><br /></div><div>To recap, you went out with a group from work, the conversation turned to a same-sex smooch on TV and one of the women you THOUGHT you knew threw a fit and burst out with a homophobic rant that shocked the crap out of you. I get it. It's upsetting to find out just what some people are like, and this was especially shocking. She apologized, you accepted it, but you aren't comfortable with her any more. </div><div><br /></div><div>I get this. I really do. I wouldn't want to be buddies with someone who pulled something like that either. So why are you having so much trouble with her now?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>SHADDAP! No drinking with the staff!</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>How the heck do you succeed in your job and not know how to handle this? I'm guessing that a lot of what you do is manage people, and that requires the ability to be objective and just a tad cold-blooded when it comes to managing their expectations, too. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm certain that this women is sincerely embarrassed by the (possibly) booze-induced loosening of the tongue and subsequent rant. No doubt she's heard about it from other people who were there that night. She may be a genuinely nice person who likes puppies and kittens and gives money to orphans, even. It's not wrong for you to find her bigotry towards gays disturbing, though. </div><div><br /></div><div>You DO have to talk to her. It's only fair. She's going to keep bothering you about this unless you set her straight anyway, so bite the bullet, pull off that Band-aid, um..... whatever cliche you can think of about getting your shit together.... and TELL HER. Make an appointment with her, sit down in your office, and tell her exactly what you told Prudie.</div><div><br /></div><div>Prudie's advice on this sucks, by the way. You should NOT just put up with this nonsense, and you do NOT have to listen to some idiot rant nastily about your sexual orientation. What this woman said was reprehensible to you and the fact that she apologized does not mean that her attitude has changed.</div><div><br /></div><div>Try this:</div><div><br /></div><div>"I understand that you're uncomfortable about the comments you made. You should be, they were very upsetting to me. I accept your apology, but I feel that our friendship should be strictly professional and limited to the office."</div><div><br /></div><div>That should do it. Oh, and take a lesson from this. Work friends and personal friends are different creatures. Keeping those two arenas separate from each other is sometimes necessary. Don't be afraid to say this.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>4. Ooooh! I LOVE these. Bridezillas, Momzillas, Knocked-up-baby-sisterzillas....</div><div><br /></div><div>I have to say that weddings, parties and babies are probably the most revealing events in the world. Want to find out a friend's REAL character? Pay attention to the way she acts when she's planning on of these events. THIS is where you separate the women from the girls and the girls from the assholes! </div><div><br /></div><div>This one is a doozy, too! I agree with you. Four goddamned baby showers is three too many. Registering at TWO stores for the entire contents of each is tacky and greedy beyond all measure. Your sister either has balls the size of coconuts or is dumb as a bucket of rocks for allowing this to happen. </div><div><br /></div><div>But that's not what you asked. You want to know how to tell her how cheesy this all is. I'm going to have to tell you to</div><div><br /></div><div><b>SHADDAP! Drink her booze and let it go.</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>I can't believe your sister's friends are falling for all this bullshit, but that's their problem. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, it's a shameless, tacky and manipulative grab for presents, and since she's registered for things like cribs, strollers and beds, then I have to wonder if she and her husband are perhaps too broke to be having a child anyway. Did they register for a minivan, too?</div><div><br /></div><div>The etiquette on this says that parents are responsible for the necessities of a baby's life. Furniture is their responsibility, and if someone is going to buy it as a gift, it should be a close family member that does it with no fanfare at all. Simply put, you don't hit up friends for the big stuff. </div><div><br /></div><div>There's not a bloody thing you can do about this, though. You know your sister won't listen. The way you describe her, she'd probably have a screaming fit if you even suggested she's acting like a greedy three-year-old. So do nothing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Go to ONE shower. Don't get anything on the registry. Get something useful and pretty or whatever, and skip the list. I suspect a lot of people are going to do that anyway. Say NOTHING if your sister whines about your gift and don't cave and obey her when she embarks on a tantrum about it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, and relax. You aren't the only one that's noticed your sister's grabby behavior. She may end up with a few nasty surprises when she opens the presents at the baby showers. Not everyone is going to fall for this bullshit. </div><div><br /></div><div>____________________________________________________</div><div><br /></div><div>Practical suggestions for prosaic shower gifts:</div><div><br /></div><div>1. A dozen onesies or tiny t-shirts. Seriously. Babies, as cute as they are, are also grubby little critters that need to be washed and tidied up on a regular basis. Having clean things on hand is important.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. A dozen bibs. Babies drool. A LOT. Many clean bibs are good to have. </div><div><br /></div><div>3. The monster pack of newborn diapers. Did I mention that babies are grubby? They need to be changed a zillion times a day, too. Diapers are not only expensive, running out is a tragedy of epic proportions.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. A Costco-sized package of baby wipes. Again, grubby.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. A couple of dozen white terry-cloth hand towels or restaurant side towels. These are to be used for general clean-up, burping and whatever else one needs them for. No matter how ghastly they get and no matter what manner of goo and grossness gets on them, you can bleach them and they will always look nice and white. </div><div><br /></div><div>6. Baby bath gels, shampoos, etc. Running out of that stuff is really annoying. </div><div><br /></div><div>7. A gift certificate to a spa for Mom that includes hair, facial, and a massage. She's going to need it. </div><div><br /></div><div>8. An IOU for a couple of nights of babysitting. Weirdly, babies are not so entrancing 24/7 as you might think. Even if the parents need a break to walk around the block three or four times so they can use their adult voices, that's important, too. </div><div><br /></div><div>9. A stack of trashy, no-brain-involved novels for parents that aren't going to sleep even when the baby IS sleeping. Magazine subscriptions are good, too. Distractions are necessary. </div><div><br /></div><div>10. A card that's good for ten phone calls where the new parent is specifically allowed to vent with no comments unless they ask a question. Trust me. This is another necessity.</div><div><br /></div><div>________________________________________________</div><div><br /></div><div>That's it for this week! Have a good weekend and remember, when in doubt, <b>SHADDAP!</b></div>Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-60930657077209288872010-06-17T13:48:00.006-05:002010-06-17T15:20:33.667-05:00SHADDAP! Wreak Havoc, Reap The Whirlwind Edition<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjGtczxJkJk1z1mAn_KVfPOSLH0k0DiD9gxPTsBqQxVVb3hKq-cAWN13jX9sszNqxvmjQ3Sy1Q8Qsu0q1WsDAU80eMR3THVXOeNPHImKllilfkAFKbEKnxxOihF1Lf5VdEpPTi3kuvxkw/s1600/IMG_0338.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjGtczxJkJk1z1mAn_KVfPOSLH0k0DiD9gxPTsBqQxVVb3hKq-cAWN13jX9sszNqxvmjQ3Sy1Q8Qsu0q1WsDAU80eMR3THVXOeNPHImKllilfkAFKbEKnxxOihF1Lf5VdEpPTi3kuvxkw/s400/IMG_0338.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483817223279166530" /></a><br /><div>(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)<div><br /></div><div>We're back! And summer is upon us. The City of Wind has had almost continual rain for the last week or so, and now that the sun is out, gardens are growing like gangbusters. My little front bed is looking downright jungle-like and some of the plants are starting to seem...predatory. The plants on the back deck are also growing like crazy. Between the mandevilla vines, the morning glories and the sweet peas (all screaming pink this year), I may have to use a machete to get into the garage soon. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am loving it. </div><div><br /></div><div>But there are letters. THEME letters, no less, because Father's Day is upon us. Read the originals <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2257149/">at Dear Prudence</a> .</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>1. Ok. This story is tugging at my heartstrings. Really it is. I'm sobbing. You can't see it, but there's mascara pouring down my face <i>(note to self: buy Maybelline next time)</i> at the mere thought of the angst you're putting yourself through for no good reason - er - going through in your tough, tough life. <i>(Yeah. That's it. Tough life.)</i> </div><div><br /></div><div>To recap. You married your high school sweetheart. <i>(I don't generally think this is a smart idea, but who am I to judge?) </i>You had an affair. <i>(See? This is why you don't marry the guy from high school. Boring. Just sayin'.) </i>You got knocked up. Your husband agreed to raise your child as his own, which makes him a pretty good guy in my books. You got very, very lucky there, you idiot.</div><div><br /></div><div>So. Now that your son is three, you're killing yourself in terror that he might find out that Dad is not the sperm donor? </div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP!</div><div><br /></div><div>Ok. We know you're an idiot. First for marrying the first guy that asked, second for having an affair. That being the case, I have to ask...How do you KNOW that the fling you had resulted in your son? Did you have a DNA test? No? Were you having sex with your husband at the time? The letter is maddeningly unclear. Because if you WERE with your husband and your fling at the same time, you KNOW either one could be the sperm supplier right? Right? </div><div><br /></div><div>Do we have to have the "birds and the bees" talk here? Have you figured it out yet? I know there's no guarantee you have. It can take three or even four kids for some women to figure that out. Oy. It's like talking to a broken small appliance. </div><div><br /></div><div>Right. This isn't enough of a complication for you, is it? No, you have to keep adding to the drama. You say "I worry constantly about my son growing older and learning about his paternity in some way." </div><div><br /></div><div>Really? See, here's the thing. I know that if you felt free to write to the Internet lady about this, you've already told every single family member, friend, postal worker, grocery store clerk and all the guys on the road crew that time you were stuck in traffic. There probably isn't a hope in hell that the poor kid WON'T find out, thanks to your blather. No doubt you've solicited the opinion of so many people that one of them is GUARANTEED to tattle on you.</div><div><br /></div><div>This isn't about your son. This isn't about your husband, who is raising the child that is, in all the ways that count HIS SON. No, this is about an idiot Bibby-Sue who is so desperate for attention and drama that you not only had an affair in the first place, you are now PLANNING to destroy your son's image of you AND the man that chose to raise him. </div><div><br /></div><div>You can't content yourself with a happy marriage and a beautiful son, can you? Tell you what. Say nothing. Hope that when <i>(not if)</i> your son finds out what an idiot you are, he's already figured that out for himself. Rehearse playing the pathetic victim. By then you'll be an expert.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>2. Well, well, well. The one and only Father's Day letter from an actual father! Congratulations! You win...some sort of prize. How about that granola bar that's been riding around in the glove box of my car for the last week or so?</div><div><br /></div><div>You coach your son's baseball team, so you go to his games. You DON'T coach your daughter's softball team and so you don't go to HER games because....you don't feel like making the effort on a non-coaching night and you just don't understand why your wife thinks you should. </div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP!</div><div><br /></div><div>I was with the posters on The Fray that were saying that kids are overprogrammed anyway and that parents shouldn't have to attend their every burp and fart for their entire childhoods. I get that. I remember there were times when one neighborhood parent would chauffeur a bunch of kids to a game on a week night and then haul them all home afterwards. Parents get busy sometimes. </div><div><br /></div><div>What I DON'T get is why you only feel the need to go to your son's games. What is the matter with you? Are you really too stupid to see what you're doing? Maybe you don't think girls should play sports? Maybe you really DO like your son better.... </div><div><br /></div><div>A DOUBLE SHADDAP for you, moron. </div><div><br /></div><div>Your wife is right. You ARE teaching your daughter that she doesn't matter to you. You ARE telling her that her brother is more worthy of your attention than she is. You claim that you just don't want to be at the ball park every night of the week, but what you're really saying is that the park is only interesting to you is when your SON is there. </div><div><br /></div><div>I really don't care what you're telling yourself. You might even think you're telling the truth. It's still an utter and unmitigated bullshit excuse for ignoring your daughter's accomplishments, though. Nobody is telling you that you have to go to every single event both of your kids have for the rest of your natural life. That would be nuts. Your kids can handle a lot of things without you and they should. They need to learn to be independent at one point. </div><div><br /></div><div>But this is nonsense, right here. If you keep it up, keep ignoring your daughter in favor of your son, you're going to create a can of worms that will live on for both of them for the rest of their lives. Your daughter will learn that you can't be trusted. She will also resent her brother. She may do some pretty stupid things to get your attention, which I'm predicting you'll respond to by letting her mother handle it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually, though, she'll give up. She won't hassle you any more. She won't go to you for...anything. Why should she? It's not like you've ever shown that you give a damn about her. Nope. You'll have your peace and quiet one day, and no one will nag you any more. You won't ever have to deal with your boring daughter again, ever. </div><div><br /></div><div>Prudie advised you to volunteer to coach your daughter's team next year. That would be the smart thing to do, as well as going to some of her games this year. But you won't do that, so I won't go there.</div><div><br /></div><div>How do you like them apples, Daddy-O?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>3. Here we go again. Hi, Marsha the Martyr! How's it goin' there? Yup. I see you STILL don't have a life! That's what you were aiming for though, right? </div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP!</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh boy. You have three teenagers, and you divorced their father when they were young. You say, "I...decided to sacrifice my personal life to make up for the loss of their father."</div><div><br /></div><div>Ok. You chose martyrdom over a life of your own. I get that. It's about three generations too late to classify as "normal" in any way, but we can start there. How have your children "lost their father", though? I know he's not dead. You say yourself that they've been in constant contact with him throughout their lives. </div><div><br /></div><div>No, visitation is not always fun. It doesn't sound like your ex exactly covered himself with glory as a parent, either. Planting three kids in front of a television all weekend is not what I'd consider good parenting and most people would agree with that. The fact that they don't want to visit him any more makes perfect sense. Why go over there indeed? </div><div><br /></div><div>Ah, but you "cherish the time (you) have alone when they're with him." Again, makes perfect sense. Being a single parent is no walk in the park. You DO need some alone time once in a while. </div><div><br /></div><div>You know what I'm hearing here? I'm not hearing that the idiot you were smart enough to divorce hasn't been the best parent in the world. What I'm hearing is <b>I</b> gave up <b>my</b> life. <b>I </b>need some private time. And the corker ( I LOVE this one), "Now I'm worried that in my old age, when they're stressed out, they'll put me away."</div><div><br /></div><div>Really? Seriously? Instead of encouraging them to talk to their father and rebuild that relationship, instead of offering to go with them and help them open the conversation, instead of setting up an appointment with a counselor so that everyone can talk openly, all you care about is your "naked with ice cream time"!? You selfish jerk! I'd worry too, if I were you.</div><div><br /></div><div>Get a grip, woman. If you don't take some control of the situation and PUT YOUR CHILDREN FIRST, for once, you won't need to worry about them putting you in a home. They'll leave you to your eternal whining and moaning and not even notice when you have to take yourself to the nursing home. </div><div><br /></div><div>Here's what you need to do.... Talk to your kids. Get laid. Talk to their father. Get laid. Visitation may have to change - take care of that. Get laid....</div><div><br /></div><div>See, if you have no life of your own, and I can see you don't, then your kids won't ever learn what a normal life is like. They won't learn what relationships are supposed to look like. They'll either be doormats like you, or lazy assholes like their father. And YOU are the one that chose to let them think that's what life is supposed to be. THAT is the biggest crime of all.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>4. Oy. Again with the stupid questions. What is the world coming to when people can't give a simple, one-word answer to a stupid question? If anyone knows, please tell me.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dear old 70-year-old Dad wants you to write a glowing testimonial that is designed to guarantee him a constant supply of fuckable chicks from the Internet dating site. Even though you say he's treated you and your family badly, even though he has "psychological issues" and even though YOU SAY "...there's a reason he's single" you think you should do it? </div><div><br /></div><div>Your "reason" is classic, too. You don't want to hurt his feelings! </div><div><br /></div><div>Hahahahahaha! OOOoooooooh stop it! HEE hee hee hee hee! No really, you're killing me here! HAHAHAhahahahaha! I mean it, I have to pee!</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP!</div><div><br /></div><div>Try "no", dipshit! Unless you WANT to see him with some unsuspecting woman because you just HAD to help that loser? </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-52880170411223561312010-06-03T15:46:00.005-05:002010-06-03T17:07:11.224-05:00SHADDAP!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9X1RSoaZwsngFTbnA5JMafSCQ2XAD0vKYnTyBz-jbJerHD6LQ9fYg3KolfXi4WmU1Zchh5fFKYpBYbtBTUcI4aNupQp0b_Kc52XJd0tCCXJRlBg7U2nNeUKkBEfdSrR4rNd2AbZR556s/s1600/FL010011.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 248px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9X1RSoaZwsngFTbnA5JMafSCQ2XAD0vKYnTyBz-jbJerHD6LQ9fYg3KolfXi4WmU1Zchh5fFKYpBYbtBTUcI4aNupQp0b_Kc52XJd0tCCXJRlBg7U2nNeUKkBEfdSrR4rNd2AbZR556s/s400/FL010011.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478652827216207234" /></a><br /><div>(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Hello, hello! I'm back. I'm even posting the same day the letters came out! Yay! The Great Procrastinator manages to get something done on time. I should get a medal. </div><div><br /></div><div>I also have news! This blog, as well as One Messy Lady can also be seen on Salon. You can get to them here <a href="http://opensalon.com/blog/aunt_messy/">at Open Salon</a> . I freely admit to shamelessly shilling for The Fly over there because...well because why not? What this means for you is that YOU get to tell me off in two different places from now on. Think of the possibilities. You can agree with me at one location and tell me I'm full of it in the other. I know at least two, maybe even three of you that would LOVE that.</div><div><br /></div><div>For those reading this on Salon, I also answer real letters from people who write to me randomly. You can do this by sending me an e-mail onemessylady@gmail.com any time. Beware, though. I am not now nor have I ever been a professional counselor. I have no credentials but common sense and a decidedly odd way of looking at the world. Let me know if you want a SHADDAP! or to Ask Aunt Messy. Go to http://askauntmessy.blogspot.com for a sample, if you like. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now to work. The originals are <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2255751/">here</a> as always.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>1. Hmm. I'm of two minds on this one, so you get two answers. Ready?</div><div><br /></div><div> You walked in on a superior who was having a little "private time" at his desk and you're "95 percent sure" that he was indulging in the kind of "private time" that has a happy ending. Ok. Now you're pondering who to tell, or IF to tell.</div><div><br /></div><div>A. You're wondering if you should run tattling to one of your bosses....</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP!</div><div><br /></div><div>DINGdingdingding! Give the girl a prize! </div><div><br /></div><div>You're right! You can't go to anyone in your office with this because the "culprit" (even though you're the boor that went into HIS office without knocking) will accuse you of lying and you will LOSE that one. As far as everyone else there is concerned, you ARE the kid and you are dispensible. In fact, infant lawyers just like you are a dime a dozen. You could be replaced in less than ten minutes, twit! He could arrange to have someone fire your ass for using too much tissue during allergy season and no one would blink. </div><div><br /></div><div>You're itching to tell though, I can see that. Is it already on your Facebook page? Did you only tell your bestest bestest friends? Have you whispered into the ears of everyone from the janitors to the conveyancing secretary that you saw Mr. X <i>wanking </i>in his office before anyone else was at work? If you have, do you really think that every single person you blabbed to is going to keep the secret?</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP! Again. </div><div><br /></div><div>No, really. Shut up. It never happened. Duh. </div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, I forgot. The next time you go to work very early, make noise. Lots of noise. Drop something. I'm sure you can think of something.</div><div><br /></div><div>B. Now here I defer to Schuyler The Cat, who picked up on this part of your letter: "Unfortunately, he's not even the person who makes the pay decisions, so it's not as though I can leverage this in any lucrative way."</div><div><br /></div><div>Here's another instance of the dumbness. Are you serious? You can't think of any way to leverage this? After all that schooling, did you learn nothing? </div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP!</div><div><br /></div><div>Yeesh. You are thinking too small, girl. A salary increase is the best you could do? Fercryinoutloud, do I have to walk you through it? Sigh. </div><div><br /></div><div>Right. Now pay attention. </div><div><br /></div><div>You are not going to work in that firm forever. One day, you might need someone to give you a glowing recommendation, right? If by some miracle no one finds out what a silly ass you are and you actually come up for partnership one day, do you even know that these things are decided by a GROUP of partners - just like Wankboy. Someone is going to have to nominate you. Someone is going to have to advocate for your acceptance....</div><div><br /></div><div>Did you get any of that? No? Then I give up. If you actually need to write to the Internet lady to make this decision, you've got the worst case of cranial-rectal inversion I've seen in months. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>2. You had a nasty child support battle with your ex, who has now told your 15-year-old son all sorts of nasty things about you, most of which are fiction. So far, that sounds pretty...pathetic actually, not to mention ordinary. These things happen often. </div><div><br /></div><div>This is not your dilemma. Your dilemma is that you would never have known about this if you hadn't snooped in your son's computer. Now you feel all squicky and guilty and you can't decide whether to tell the kid how you got the information....</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP! </div><div><br /></div><div>I thought you were the adult here? Your son - surly as most 15-year-old kids can be - is still your son. Your ex-husband is just the jerk you know he already is, which is why you're divorced, so he doesn't count as an adult... but you can't tell your son that.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm going to give you the advice that a LOT of people on the Fray did. Download everything you read on to a zip drive, and keep checking for more details for a full week. Then send it to your attorney and settle the child support thing once and for all. I expect your ex will be quite surprised to know that slander is actionable. </div><div><br /></div><div>What I don't get is why the hell you can't talk to your son. Are you thick? </div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP! </div><div><br /></div><div>Prudie was right. Tell the kid that you snooped. Apologize. Apologize again. Teenagers are experts at self-righteous anger, pouting outrage, and excuse-making. You'll have to break through that before he'll be coherent. Give it a day or so. But no more.</div><div><br /></div><div>Tell him that you read what his father said and then ASK him if he has any questions about that. Point out that he will never know the truth unless he asks YOU about your life. Also point out that you always wanted HIM. The fact that your relationship with your husband went south is no reflection on your son. Tell him this about a hundred times.</div><div><br /></div><div>He's still your kid, and he is still a minor. You DO have the right to check up on his Internet usage, and you DO have the right to talk to him about it. Of course, if you spend ONE SECOND whining about your ex and telling his son that he's an asshole.....then you deserve whatever you get. </div><div><br /></div><div>Don't put your kid in the middle of your divorce. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>3. Having a friend die is tragic. Being the passenger in the car she was driving when she died is beyond tragic. It's awful. I can't imagine what that was like. I am so sorry this happened to you. </div><div><br /></div><div>That's not enough though, is it? A year hasn't even passed and you have decided that you should be "...entitled to go through her possessions..." .</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP!</div><div><br /></div><div>Idiot. I see I have to spell this out for you. </div><div><br /></div><div>NO. You do NOT have the right to bang on the door of the grieving parents and demand to root through your dead friend's things, taking back all of the gifts you gave her. They're <i>gifts, </i>dippy. They stopped being yours the instant you handed them to her. What about that confuses you?</div><div><br /></div><div>NO. Telling them that their dead daughter borrowed a book from you and you want it back now is NOT acceptable behavior. I suspect that you're trying to make this the excuse you want for pounding on the door of her grieving parents so that you can dig around in your dead friend's things. </div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP! Again. </div><div><br /></div><div>There is no universe where anything you propose to do is acceptable. You were a friend. You are not a parent. You are not a spouse. </div><div><br /></div><div>Geez, where in blazes did you learn your manners? You gormless twit, you have no business intruding on your friend's parents UNLESS they invite you. Since they haven't done that yet, I'm guessing that you're the last person they want to see right now.</div><div><br /></div><div>What? You're surprised that they might not want to see you? Or do you want to look in their eyes and see the wish that you were the one that died? They can't help that, you know. It's going to run through their minds. They'll be asking themselves what YOU could have done to stop the accident from happening. </div><div><br /></div><div>Could you have stopped their daughter from getting behind the wheel if she was drinking? Could you have been the momentary distraction that killed their little girl? Was it your music that was on so loud that their daughter didn't hear the honking horn that would have saved their life? </div><div><br /></div><div>Leave these people alone. You have mementos enough.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>4. Well, aren't you special? Oh wait....none of this is about you. So help me out, why is it that you're offended when people hug your husband and thank him for his military service again? </div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP!</div><div><br /></div><div>Now pay attention. You know that your husband lost his leg after he left the military. He knows that, too. Yes, it's also incredibly rude that strangers make the assumption that the events were reversed. I've got all that. </div><div><br /></div><div>So why are YOU writing this letter? I didn't see anywhere that your husband finds it upsetting. Is he even offended, or do you just not want people manhandling your husband, including little old veterans? </div><div><br /></div><div>I will grant you that having strangers walk up and talk to you is unutterably rude. On the few occasions this has happened to me, I'm hard pressed to step back without slapping their hands or something. The words "piss off, weirdo" come unbidden to my lips and I have to bite my tongue to keep them from popping out. </div><div><br /></div><div>So. Tell your husband that this creeps you out. Perfect the blank stare, the "deafness" to the cries of the intrusive, the art of not stopping for them. Own your sidewalk. Don't step aside. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then just...deal. If your HUSBAND has a problem with this, then HE should write to the Internet lady for advice. You don't have a dog in this fight.</div>Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-45155587342724600602010-05-28T11:37:00.004-05:002010-05-28T13:03:41.950-05:00SHADDAP!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Ecq5BOv_wBi9vvv8s6YMclR8Sy6mafuvhKGbeMFLVfCRE5Y5MIxmXz-MIOxhPOeE8RMpEzQVZj1GAv_7rYKH1WjSaA7D3sfMrg2IDAVJOLl-iv_otdzegCQ0XuGyT1Np5NYsitGZ9RA/s1600/IMG_0116.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 348px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Ecq5BOv_wBi9vvv8s6YMclR8Sy6mafuvhKGbeMFLVfCRE5Y5MIxmXz-MIOxhPOeE8RMpEzQVZj1GAv_7rYKH1WjSaA7D3sfMrg2IDAVJOLl-iv_otdzegCQ0XuGyT1Np5NYsitGZ9RA/s400/IMG_0116.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476361643182659810" /></a><br /><div>(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Ah, summer is here! Woo hoo! I was out planting my container garden the other day, facing the sun in 90 degree heat and IT FELT GOOD! This is something I just have to do. At least one day of the year, I need to get outside and get all sweaty when everyone else is hiding out indoors. No sunscreen. And no, I don't care. There are times when you have to just let go of the preachiness and play in the dirt. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then I read <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2254999/">Dear Prudie</a> and realized that dumbness has continued to abound, disregarding the season. This is going to be fun!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>1. Ah, family shit! Where would we be without it? Everyone likes to subscribe to the total bullshit myth that "family is everything" and that "families all love each other all the time". People actually believe that Norman Rockwell paintings represent real life, and that everyone should always strive to be just like they think the folks in the paintings are like. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's nonsense. We know it. We know that the lovely picture of Thanksgiving Dinner is a mere millisecond frozen in time. After that millisecond, Billy throws up all of the potato chips he inhaled before dinner because smoking a stolen cigarette behind the outhouse after that was a BAD idea. The baby barfs in sympathy. </div><div><br /></div><div>As Mom and Grandma clean up the mess, the dog gets into the house, knocks down the bowl of sweet potatoes and eats the whole thing, running away on being discovered and barfs up the whole thing in the middle of the kitchen floor. Billy's little sister, Maisie starts eating what the dog barfed up. Meanwhile, the cat, ignored to this point because cats are quiet, has run away with a wing off the turkey and dragged it, grease and all, under a guest room bed to nibble on where it will be discovered weeks later because of the reek of rotting meat. </div><div><br /></div><div>When they finally get to back to the table, Grandpa and Uncle Fred will start to giggle hysterically and fall asleep on their plates because they've been sampling the new batch of moonshine behind the woodshed and overdid it. Mom will then throw a screaming tantrum because of all the work she put into a dinner that's RUINED, just RUINED, and storm off to the back porch to cool off and see if there's any 'shine left in that jug. </div><div><br /></div><div>Grandma, in the meantime, has turned off her hearing aid, filled plates for herself and the kids and takes them into the living room to watch "Halloween II" and "Saw" while they eat. Later that night, when the kids wake up screaming while Mom, Uncle Fred and Grandpa are still reeling around the back yard looking for another jug that was just there a minute ago, dammit. Dad will take the kids back into the living room to watch "Peter Pan" and scare the little buggers even more. They won't sleep for a week now. </div><div><br /></div><div>The next day, everyone will eat cold leftovers for breakfast, bitch about the holiday and blame each other for the disasters all the way home in the car (stopping only once so that Billy can finally get it right and barf in the ditch instead of on Gran's good linen table cloth) and return next year, feeling all warm and fuzzy and traditional. Until the cat hurls a hairball on the kitchen counter and Aunt Mabel has hysterics.....</div><div><br /></div><div>____________________________________________</div><div><br /></div><div>And that's family life - the real thing. And so, LW, why should you be any different? You have a mother who's too dumb to come in when it rains, let alone take care of hordes of special needs kids and then adopts the most disturbed, violent teenager in the entire foster system anyway. Unable to realize that she's an idiot, your mother tries to dump your adoptive "sister" on you and your family and what do you do? </div><div><br /></div><div>You feel GUILTY about not wanting the violent, suicidal, almost-adult stranger in your home with your children? </div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP! </div><div><br /></div><div>Your mother is a moron. Keep repeating this to yourself. You were very diplomatic in your letter, using words like "flighty" and saying that she "tends not to make rational decisions", but when it comes right down to it, you have to admit that your mother is not only not the brightest light in the chandelier, she's an outright drooling idiot who shouldn't be trusted with a house plant, let alone a mentally disturbed teenager.</div><div><br /></div><div>So why do you feel guilty? You say that you could persuade your husband to take this kid in for two weeks, but even you admit that you don't want her....</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP! AGAIN</div><div><br /></div><div>Are you that starved for Mommy's approval that you're willing to put your entire family at risk? Did she not like you best? Do you still hope that one day Mommy will grow a brain and appreciate you? You know that's not going to happen, right? Mommy doesn't give a rat's ass what anyone thinks/wants/needs. She does just exactly as she pleases and the consequences of that are just not something that enters her pea-sized brain. </div><div><br /></div><div>Your sister has the right approach. She very sensibly chose to put HER OWN family first and not indulge your mother's idiotic whims. Yes, she is treating your mother like a child. Your mother deserves it. She's acting like a spoiled two-year-old, screaming "I want" and hoping that you'll give in just to shut her up. </div><div><br /></div><div>Are you going to let her do that to you? Really? And if something dreadful should happen while the violent mentally disturbed teenager is staying with you - like she sets the house on fire or decides to sacrifice your toddler to the meth gods - will you be all right with that?</div><div><br /></div><div>Listen to your husband and (heaven help us) Prudie. Acknowledge that life ain't fair, call your local child welfare agency and clue them in, then tell your mother that her vacation plans aren't going to work for you or anyone else INCLUDING her adoptive daughter.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>2. Are you sure you're a graduate student? Really? Because that would make you older than twelve. I'm having trouble with the whole *he doesn't know I exist, but I know this is true loooooooooooooove!* thing.</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP!</div><div><br /></div><div>You say that this 19-year-old is no longer in your class and is unlikely to be in the future, so you want to ask him out. Whatever. Even though you haven't exchanged three words with the guy, you're convinced that this is a grand passion that will sustain you both for eternity..... I'm having trouble going on. "Sappy bullshit" is something I just don't do well.</div><div><br /></div><div>Whatever. When you go on to say "...I worry that if word gets out that I am dating a former student, my reputation as a teacher will be undermined." you're right. Your reputation WILL suffer. Is it fair? No. But face it. You're 25, he's 19. In your position, this matters. </div><div><br /></div><div>Even if you DID, by some freak chance, hook up for a night or two, you are not senior enough and you don't have enough credibility at the university for people to just snicker for a minute and move on. Worse, if you do finally confess your love to the guy, you are running the real risk that he's going to tell the whole world that some old skank of a grad student has a crush on him. </div><div><br /></div><div>So. Go find yourself someone else to fixate on. Preferably a fictional character. Someone that you can't make a fool of yourself with...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>3. I feel for you. Cancer, surgery, chemo and radiation....all are things I wouldn't wish on anyone. I can't begin to imagine what you're going through. Coping with this, plus dealing with family and work is a nightmare. But it sounds like you're recovering - the treatment is going well and taking a pill at home beats the heck out of going in to the hospital every few weeks for treatment, right?</div><div><br /></div><div>What I don't get is that you've been through all this. You've put your life and health into the hands of oncologists, a surgeon and various other health professionals and you're basing your prognosis on something you've read on the Internet? How silly is that?</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP! and pay attention. </div><div><br /></div><div>I know you probably would rather eat worms than have to go to yet another doctor, but you have no choice. You need to sit down with your oncologist and ASK what the future might hold. See, you owe that, not to yourself, but to your family. How fair is it to THEM to have you walking around convinced that you're going to keel over at any minute? </div><div><br /></div><div>Then you have to deal with this depression. Yes, you have a lot to be depressed about. You've been through a lot. You admit in your letter that you need to hold it together for your husband and family and you intend to fight for your life. You can't do that right now while you're obsessing about the death that the anonymous Internet person told you about, right? </div><div><br /></div><div>So. If your doctor tells you to take an antidepressant, DO IT. Join a survivor's group. TALK to people. You need to find a way to cope, because you sure aren't doing that now.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>4. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh! I don't WANNA take out the garbage! Why can't my sister do it? Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah! I don't WANNA make the bed! It's just going to get messy again anyway! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! I don't WANNA help the lady with the walker carry her groceries!</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP! Idiot. It's just a freakin' water bottle!</div><div><br /></div><div>You are asked to do one 30 second job once every week or so. You are the one who can most easily do the job. So just do it and quit bitching.</div><div><br /></div><div> It's tempting to take on the Mom tones and say something like "If you really want something to whine about, the garage needs cleaning." or "In the time you've spent whining about this you could have done it eleven times."</div><div><br /></div><div>Do you really want me to do that, or do you feel like enough of an idiot already?</div><div><br /></div><div>________________________________________________ </div><div><br /></div><div>Right. Now, The Boy looked at the last problem from an engineering perspective, because that's what he does. He has a suggestion. If anyone out there is affiliated with a university or knows an engineering professor - there's a design challenge that would make an excellent class project here. </div><div><br /></div><div>Five gallon water bottles are heavy, but worse, they're awkward. Lots of people (men and women) can LIFT the stupid things, but aiming them into the machine is not so easy. The main reason for that is the bottle design. It's almost impossible to get a solid grip on the thing. There are no handles. All you have is this slippery plastic thing with no handles. </div><div><br /></div><div>So here's the challenge. Someone needs to do a re-design on those bottles and come up with a new version that's easier to handle and most importantly, fits on existing machines. See, the machines are pretty sturdy and they're simple enough that they don't really break down often. It's the bottles that have the shorter life span, and they'll be adopted instantly if no one has to pop for new machines. </div><div><br /></div><div>Just a thought. </div><div><br /></div><div>Have a terrific weekend!</div><div><br /></div>Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-42787162400809506422010-05-06T15:36:00.007-05:002010-05-06T17:28:24.311-05:00SHADDAP! TALK to Each Other, Morons!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4QFdziAvPfDY_ABk5otF7is8I7I6A6H39PbGU-H4Pe8MM4uaHnb2yVmseJNy0nLYo0Z86wqROEVoVRMBVHCFhIYc0P8bCL94gJvwCEFhsuqHzvezk_sMUFN0KsYn_UfB6Ij9Ha1xkH4/s1600/img067.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 264px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4QFdziAvPfDY_ABk5otF7is8I7I6A6H39PbGU-H4Pe8MM4uaHnb2yVmseJNy0nLYo0Z86wqROEVoVRMBVHCFhIYc0P8bCL94gJvwCEFhsuqHzvezk_sMUFN0KsYn_UfB6Ij9Ha1xkH4/s400/img067.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468259712468525234" /></a><br /><div>(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)</div><div><br /></div><div>What a week! I get back from vacation, hoping for warm weather because we had sleet in Oregon fercryinoutloud and look what happens! For the entire week we were gone, the weather was lovely. NOW it's downright chilly out there. In the 50s-type chilly. Yeesh. Oh well. Good thing I didn't put ALL of the sweaters away, right? </div><div><br /></div><div>This week is all about Mom. Good Moms, bad Moms, indifferent Moms, oddball Moms...they're everywhere. </div><div><br /></div><div>We all know Mothers Day is this Sunday. How can I tell? Well, there's not a restaurant reservation to be had anywhere in this town for the next week. Plus there are a gazillion flower ads all over the place....and Prudie does only Mom-related letters. Read them <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2252949/">here</a> .</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>1. You poor little darling! What a terrible life you've led. Why, I'll bet you suffered so, what with the supportive parents, the love and care, the tuition they're no doubt paying.......</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP!</div><div><br /></div><div>Please explain to me in detail why it is that your mother's FORMER, LONG IN THE PAST job is somehow a problem for you? Or did you just not want to know? Do you think she became a porn actress because she somehow psychically knew that you were going to be embarrassed by it all these years later and she wanted to do that to you? Are you so dense that you're willing to toss away your relationship with the two people who care about you most in the entire world? </div><div><br /></div><div>Listen, kid. Your mother is the same person now that she was before you graduated high school. She is the same lady that changed your diapers, wiped your nose, made your lunches, and made the Closet Monster run away. In fact, the only reason she told you that she did work in porn is that she didn't want you to find photos of her online and have to deal with it when she wasn't close by for you to ask her about it. Damned considerate of her, don't you think?</div><div><br /></div><div>The correct answer to the above is YES, dippy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Get past this adolescent jackass bullshit and do it NOW. Your mother's life in porn is OVER. It was a JOB. It's how she made a living, as in a roof over her head and food on the table. Your father has always known about it, and has never stopped loving her or held it against her (because THAT you would have noticed). They BOTH have spent the last 18 years making sure that your life was happy and healthy. </div><div><br /></div><div>NOTHING HAS CHANGED.</div><div><br /></div><div>If you let this revelation affect your relationship, then you are a fool, little girl. Instead of freaking out over it and writing to the internet lady, why the hell don't you TALK to your mother? You know. Sit down at the kitchen table or on the couch and start by saying, "Holy crap, Mom! I had no idea!"</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>2. Another letter from a kid. Well it stands to reason, what with the Mother's Day theme and all.</div><div><br /></div><div>You just graduated with an undergrad degree. Congratulations. You are also aware that it has little to no value in the marketplace (political science and history - nothing good there right now) so you want to go to graduate school. Congratulations again. </div><div><br /></div><div>Your mother's cancer IS going to complicate your life for the foreseeable future, so </div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP! </div><div><br /></div><div>...for a minute and listen. </div><div><br /></div><div>I can tell you all kinds of stuff here. Like Washington is NOT the only place to get a graduate degree, no matter what your political ambitions are. In fact... there are no doubt schools much closer to home that will serve you as well. It's the PERSON that gets hired, not the degree. If you want to go to school, then consider that. </div><div><br /></div><div>You can take a year off, live at home, and get a part-time job. The academic world will not cease to rotate if you do that. In fact, some universities will allow your acceptance to remain valid so you can go the following year. It's a way to stay close.</div><div><br /></div><div>Your mother's cancer IS very serious. Metastatic breast cancer is deadly. The fact that it's in her bones is not a good sign at all. You say in your letter that she will have to have chemotherapy for the rest of her life, and you need to know that her life may not be that long. Survival rates are virtually nil for this kind of cancer, and it can (though not necessarily) kill very quickly. </div><div><br /></div><div>You need to TALK to your mother. It sounds like you haven't bothered doing that - in fact, all you say about her is "...deep down I think she really would like me to be close to home."</div><div><br /></div><div>Did you ASK her flat out if that's what she wants? Some parents would rather their kids never saw them suffer and would prefer it if you went on with your life. Others would sooner have their kids close. You're an adult now, and now's the time to act like one. You aren't some little kid to just coast along - you have decisions to make and they are based on her life right now. What do YOU want?</div><div><br /></div><div>Your mother is a grown-up human being. She is NOT her cancer and she is NOT just a diagnosis. This is the same woman who gave you hell for being out too late and forbade you to date the 30 year old guy whose wife "didn't understand him" when you were 15. She isn't going to break. TALK TO HER.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>3. Ok. This is truly a fucked up mess. Seriously. How the hell do people let things get to this point before they actually do something about it? </div><div><br /></div><div>Right. You know your mother is one truly fucked up, miserable specimen of a parent who probably should never have been permitted to reproduce in the first place, right? You knew that.... so....</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP!</div><div><br /></div><div>Your question is what to do about your sister, and the answer to that one is easy. You jammed out on cleaning your mother's apartment after you said you would help, you sister is pissed at you and she has every right to be. Apologize, tell her WHY you jammed out, and let her decide what to do. You're both adults, so get a grip. </div><div><br /></div><div>As to your fucked up, miserable specimen of a female parent... you have every right to resent her. I see some people over on Slate that are willing to make excuses for her. They seem to think that she's just a poor, mentally ill darling that needs to be taken care of. I guess they subscribe to the fantasy that anyone past the age of sixty automatically deserves different treatment than the rest of the world.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am not of that school of thought. AT ALL. I'm here to tell you that your mother is nothing more than a lazy bitch who is taking advantage of you like a leech takes advantage of any mammal foolish enough to walk through the water. So there. I don't see her any differently than I see a forty-year-old kid that squats in Mommy and Daddy's basement, paying no rent and living on Cheetos and video games, sucking up his parents' pensions because he/she is too fucking lazy to get up off his/her ass and work. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm going to give you the same advice I'd give those parents. </div><div><br /></div><div>You need to cut off the money train as soon as possible. You don't owe this idiotic woman a single thing. You did everything you could to get her off her ass and I have no doubt that all the counseling and medical bills came right out of yours and your sisters' pockets. YOU ARE DONE. This woman is not mentally ill, she's a lazy bitch who has a good deal going. She's got you and your sister on a string and she's going to take advantage of that until she dies.</div><div><br /></div><div>Remember this. Your mother CHOSE to stop working at an age when most people are at least 15 years from retirement. She CHOSE to live on money that was no doubt meant to take care of her in her old age. 50 to 61 IS NOT OLD AGE. Now she has you and your sister somehow convinced that you owe her a living? What the fuck is that? It's pretty ballsy on her part, don't you think? </div><div><br /></div><div>Tell your sister AND your mother that you just don't have enough money to support another person right now. Let them know that you will honor the agreement you made, but you'll have to cut it off after six months or a year. THEN.... tell your mother that you're going to give her share of the rent directly to her friend/landlord. Her reaction to that will tell you just how much she's sucked you into overpaying, right? Because you ARE overpaying. This isn't just about rent.</div><div><br /></div><div>I know this hurts, but consider this. NORMAL parents want their kids to succeed and would NEVER demand that their kids support them. Good parents want their kids to be happy, successful adults, not ATMs with feet.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>4. You're just sooooooooooo special, aren't you, you psycho-bitch-demon-mom? Just what the hell did you do to your girls? I'm surprised that you didn't force them to shave their heads and wear ankle-length calico dresses for their entire lives - because it wouldn't be fair for them to, say, have friends or normal social lives, right? </div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP!</div><div><br /></div><div>I was with you when you told Prudie that you tried to raise the kids to be unprejudiced and not to hassle other kids at school. Most parents try and do that. Very few would actually want their kid to be a bully or even a big meanie. Fair enough. </div><div><br /></div><div>Your girls are doing all right. They're a couple of reasonably attractive (I'm guessing), well socialized kids who are nice to others (for the most part) and therefore have friends and acquaintances that like them. </div><div><br /></div><div>Here's where you lost me:</div><div><br /></div><div>"I resent popularity and have rallied against it both at work and when I was in school."</div><div><br /></div><div>What the fuck is that? What did you do? Sit in a corner and pout? Put up signs that said things like "Popular people have cooties"? Try and convince the Chess Club to arm themselves and clobber anyone who cracked a smile during the day? Run around your office telling everyone that so-and-so shouldn't be promoted because everyone likes them? Quit your job in protest because one of your colleagues got invited to all the fun parties? </div><div><br /></div><div>I really would like to know the answers to those. Dipshit.</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP! Again, dammit!</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes. Your kids engaged in standard kid-like assholery when they were snickering about the kids they decided were "weird" . I get that. You found out that someone had rejected a friendly gesture by one of the kids and that was the reason for the nastyish hilarity and you no doubt over-reacted. </div><div><br /></div><div>What you SHOULD have said is that not everyone is going to adore them all of the time, and that some people just don't want to be their buddy. There's nothing wrong with that. All people do not automatically like each other. I'm guessing that your kids are pretty nice and that being rejected like that stung a bit. That's no reason to behave badly, though.</div><div><br /></div><div>That's beside the point, though, right? You resent your kids because they aren't the social cripples that you were at that age and are now. They get along with people because that's what YOU TAUGHT THEM to do. You don't get to crap on them now because of it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Moron. Send them to boarding school NOW. Hopefully they'll unlearn your paranoia and the distance will keep them from outright hating you until they're old enough that they don't have to live with you any more. </div><div><br /></div><div>_________________________________________________</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, and the picture... It's a barn door. Get it? It's a closed barn door! And the barn is empty! *snicker* I kill me!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-60429393002764097182010-04-22T13:18:00.004-05:002010-04-22T14:54:41.445-05:00SHADDAP!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV5q3hfkED2_lKFRhoVOs8G1D-E4k0gatdl_bBBEl3sN5RDXLGyjE2LPe1kOXXAsOzr0Kd85kQ3eJgyWK8ADGeXNLsULzc8T1i-tZrR0DeWw8f4VzIAB5n7W9EDWm0Duu2vb_kiEy4L5w/s1600/IMG_0150.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 307px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV5q3hfkED2_lKFRhoVOs8G1D-E4k0gatdl_bBBEl3sN5RDXLGyjE2LPe1kOXXAsOzr0Kd85kQ3eJgyWK8ADGeXNLsULzc8T1i-tZrR0DeWw8f4VzIAB5n7W9EDWm0Duu2vb_kiEy4L5w/s400/IMG_0150.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463028239959500402" /></a><br /><div>(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)</div><div><br /></div><div>The sun is shining, the birds are chirping and all's right with the world. I even found a pair of pants that not only fit, they look GOOD. Amazing. I'm sure a lot of people (ok, mostly women) loathe the trouser-shopping ritual as much as I do. There is hope, though! I'm living proof that once in a while, when the stars align, you will find Them. The Perfect Trousers. And when you do.....please buy more than one, 'kay? </div><div><br /></div><div>We're taking off on vacation this weekend, but I'll be checking in from time to time, so if you think I'm (as Tonto puts it) fulla crap, feel free to let'er rip. </div><div><br /></div><div>You can find the letters <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2251570/">here</a> .</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>1. Oooh....this letter is candy to all of us, isn't it? I know a lot of people would like to think it's fake, but I doubt very much it is? "Why Messy", you ask, "How is this possible? Are recent college grads that mean and ugly?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, yes they are, kids. Watch and learn.</div><div>_________________________________________</div><div><br /></div><div>Aren't you the specialist special ickle baby-girl! And don't you just deserve a pat on the noggin for being oh-so-very-clever! (That? Oh...just a mallet...No, it's just a rubber mallet, I swear! I was going to use it to....straighten out that picture, yeah, that's it, the picture!)</div><div><br /></div><div>So you've been out of college for a grand total of a year and you know it ALL. Glad to hear it. Everyone should have a "great job doing promotions" at your age....wait a minute....does that mean that you're the nearly naked chickie that drapes herself over the raffle prizes at seedy shopping malls in the suburbs, trying to sell tickets for the station's pet charity? That was YOU? That was a ROTTEN thing you did to that oversized teddy bear!</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, and honey, think "wax", not "shave". Stubble collects, let's just say lint and leave it at that, shall we?</div><div><br /></div><div>So. You know every aspect of the business and you found out some hot news that might even be a ..... scoop! Yes, that's the word. No really. It is. That big book in the corner is called a "dictionary". Use it. Maybe one of your little friends can help you with it.</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP!</div><div><br /></div><div>So let's address your concerns, shall we? To start. The morning show host is not your "colleague". Nor is she a "co-worker". In fact, she's so far above you on the totem pole that if she notices you personally at all, it's not necessarily a good thing. Sort of like attracting the attention of Zeus, as many maidens discovered around the same time they discovered that the good old Olympian had a thing for human-flesh and making babies with them, then dumping them back in their villages. </div><div><br /></div><div>Let's dismiss that then. You are the front-door mat under her feet. You are unworthy of being her door mat. You are the broom that sweeps the door mat under her feet. You are the dust pan that.... Got it?</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, but wait! She's OLD. Damn, what a revelation! Why, she's all of 30-something and she DARES to talk to college students! How could she! That should be a hanging offense! Something Should Be Done. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, you started your little buddies on the playground chattering about her ancientness and You Made A Decision. Gag gifts at the birthday lunch! How perfect! She invites you to a lunch as an act of kindness, because she KNOWS you lot don't make enough money to foot the bill at Rotten Ronnie's, and you'll get to bitch-slap her around about her AGE!</div><div><br /></div><div>Then everyone will KNOW HER SECRET and you'll get her job and be rich and famous and get those implants you always wanted and buy all of your friends big presents and take over their lives and never have to work for someone else again and you'll get all the hot guys and everyone will simultaneously worship you and be jealous of you and you can make them believe all the lies you tell because you're just so perfect and anyway you can give them money to shut up about it....... (*Smack* Messy, you gotta chill, woman. I know you're reading Kitty Kelley's "Oprah" right now, but this chickie isn't as smart as Oprah is, and that's going some...)</div><div><br /></div><div>Aren't you all just so.... special?</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP! again.</div><div><br /></div><div>Do you really believe, you vapid slut, that your bosses, don't know this woman's age? Really? They write her checks, you idiot! They have her Social Security Number. They HIRED her for the job. Better yet, she worked hard and EARNED that job! Believe me, infant-bimbo, her (and your) bosses know her age. They don't care, because she's wonderful at her job, which INCLUDES appearances at bars and college campuses. </div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, and they NEED her. You are just a piece of Lego. A dime a dozen.</div><div><br /></div><div>What do you think will happen at that birthday lunch? Do you think that you and all of your friends will ante in with your tacky, juvenile gag gifts and she'll just burst into tears and run away, apologizing for daring to deceive YOU - the titty-draped-over-the-Ford-Escort girl? Really, truly?</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP! yet again.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'll tell you exactly what will happen. You little morons from whatever the lowest rung on the ladder is will come out with your stupid "gifts" and laugh your little heads off. She'll leave all right. And when you and the morons that listened to you go back to the office, your crap will be piled at the door, and you'll find that suddenly your office looks just like the hallway in the photo does above. </div><div><br /></div><div>That's right, sugar. Closed doors. Many, many closed doors. And YOUR hallway will stretch as far as the radio and television industries go, because if you think you'll get another job like the one you have now, you are sadly deluded, little girl.</div><div><br /></div><div>So go ahead. Knock yourself out. It's going to happen sooner or later, so why not now? Maybe you'll still be able to hook up with that football player you dumped for your big media career and convince him to marry you while he takes over his dad's hot dog stand over at the Little League diamond .....</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>2. Ok. I've seen the aftermath of three really horrendous, gory traffic accidents. That all by itself is upsetting. I had bad dreams for weeks after the last one, and that image is never going to leave me. Seeing human bodies tossed around like dolls and dumped into virtually unrecognizable heaps is nothing I would recommend to anyone, no matter how tough they think they are. </div><div><br /></div><div>I wasn't on the spot, though, and you were. You got a front row seat to the whole godawful mess ON TOP of having to deal with the aftermath. I wish it weren't so. No one needs that imprinted on their eyelids. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm sure you know that this wasn't your fault. Let me repeat....NOTHING you could have done would have stopped this person from dying of stupid. THAT was the real cause of death, and I wish they'd put it into obituaries and on headstones. That girl had the terminal stupids and even if she had avoided the accident she died in, there would have been another with the same results at a later date. </div><div><br /></div><div>That's a large part of your problem, but the part you dwell on is the asshole that blamed you for driving "too slow". You know that's bullshit, right? There was nothing you could have done. Not without risking someone else's neck - probably your own. Next time you think of this, close your eyes, look that asshole in the face and yell,</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP! </div><div><br /></div><div>Then, get yourself to your therapist, tell him/her that whatever it is that you're doing once a week is not helping. Ask for a referral to someone that specializes in PTSD. Because that's what's going on with you. It's nothing to be ashamed of, and you CAN get past it. If the therapist recommends some medication, take it. It'll help you finish processing this mess and get past it once and for all.</div><div><br /></div><div>Make no mistake. You'll never forget what happened. You WILL learn how to put it in it's place - the past - and stop blaming yourself for something you could never have controlled in a million years.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>3. Are you related to LW #1? Because I'm hearing echoes of some truly ugly nastiness, here. To recap... you caught your boyfriend's buddy's baby sister and one of your boyfriend's college buddies screwing like crazed weasels on your sofa and making a lot of noise about it after a night of drunken revelry. </div><div><br /></div><div>That got it? </div><div><br /></div><div>Then you made disapproving noises, the guy apologized and that should have been the end of your obsession...but no. YOU want revenge! By Gawd, you aren't going to be happy unless someone bleeds for you and you have the perfect plan.....</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP! </div><div><br /></div><div>Bitch. </div><div><br /></div><div>See, and here's the other part of your plan. YOU want to make sure that the girl's big brother - that would be your boyfriend's buddy, all of his friends and all of his family to KNOW that the little sister is a goddamned rotten slut that probably (although you really couldn't tell what with the godawful plaid couch) dripped nasty body fluids all over YOUR precious sofa! </div><div><br /></div><div>Yeah....that'll show that little skank what's what.</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP! again.....</div><div><br /></div><div>Now think hard. I know it's a strain, but try. What do you think will happen if you do this? Let's see...</div><div><br /></div><div>a) Yes. You WILL humiliate the girl. Which will ...</div><div><br /></div><div>b) Piss off her brother, all of his friends AND their entire family mightily, so ...</div><div><br /></div><div>c) THEY will go to your boyfriend with evidence of your psychobitch ways, and ...</div><div><br /></div><div>d) Your boyfriend, having been thoroughly embarrassed by your behavior himself will...</div><div><br /></div><div>e) Kick your vindictive ass out of his life so hard you'll be back in your childhood bedroom so fast the you won't even have time to register you're there until your suitcase hits you on the head.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, as I said above, think hard sugar. Is sofa-defilement worth all the shit that's going to rain down on your head if you're too stupid to hold back your psychobitch impulses? Are you the kind that gets splashed by a bus and demands the head of the driver on a barbecue platter with some greens and a nice mustard sauce?</div><div><br /></div><div>I know you'll do it. And there WILL be one positive outcome. You'll be out of your boyfriend's life and he can go find himself a woman instead of a vindictive, rat-faced bitch.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>4. You're bored by your husband's hobbies. You even go so far as to ask "(i)s caring about him sufficient reason to just suck it up and feign interest?"</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP! </div><div><br /></div><div>YES. </div><div><br /></div><div>And the fact that you feel the need to ask that question in the first place tells me that you don't love the poor man in the least. </div><div><br /></div><div>Moron. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-14130724030871913182010-04-22T13:17:00.000-05:002010-04-22T13:17:56.714-05:00Blogger Buzz: Blogger integrates with Amazon Associates<a href="http://buzz.blogger.com/2009/12/blogger-integrates-with-amazon.html">Blogger Buzz: Blogger integrates with Amazon Associates</a>Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8625154341780348225.post-70342825868335760182010-04-16T17:23:00.005-05:002010-04-16T18:49:38.593-05:00SHADDAP!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis1U11x6VB8m7qBqYE-tMU_5W0ANiBV11bSdKpj_L3cid8lng4g_U4XfdYBfwB_R97eFkmxJfXjrYGP4cNiL6CC5jdilixYvtpT_VFvNTfM-kMP1sT-AUqPJ1FqB5yD4AXYb4ndRLxINs/s1600/img084.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 249px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis1U11x6VB8m7qBqYE-tMU_5W0ANiBV11bSdKpj_L3cid8lng4g_U4XfdYBfwB_R97eFkmxJfXjrYGP4cNiL6CC5jdilixYvtpT_VFvNTfM-kMP1sT-AUqPJ1FqB5yD4AXYb4ndRLxINs/s400/img084.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460865537182415282" /></a><br /><div>(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Woo hoo! I can finally say it's Spring! If you want proof, then just go over to my other blog <a href="http://www.onemessylady.blogspot.com/">here</a> for proof. See? See? Blue sky, leaves and flowers... SPRING! (And about bloody time, too.)</div><div><br /></div><div>There is a down side to this, of course. Allergies. After that walk, and after taking the drugs, I thought my head was about to explode. Same today. It put me in a cruddy mood until I decided to just...take more drugs. Headache gone, mockery enabled....let's go! The original letters are <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2250840/">here</a> .</div><div><br /></div><div>(Note: Click on <a href="http://www.arrogantworms.com/music/rippy-the-gator/">this link</a> , listen to the song and ask yourself. "Does this sound like the LW would think it's a good vacation idea?" If the answer is "yes", then you have proof that the average person who writes to Prudie really IS dumb as a stump.)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>1. Wow. Lady you have got some issues, you know that, right? What is all this shite about your "first love"? Tell me, please? I can tell you want to insert "and only" into that phrase and don't have the guts to do it. Kinda rough, though, what with the husband and all. Tell Aunt Messy, I'm right aren't I? </div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP!</div><div><br /></div><div>I see from The Fray that a lot of people claim to have prophetic dreams, we have some mind readers over there, and a whole buncha other nonsensical twaddle. Whatever. Most of the time when they're "right", the whole thing is open to so much interpretation that nothing was "proved" anyway. </div><div><br /></div><div>Here's an example:</div><div><br /></div><div>....I had a dream.....a vivid dream...... I dreamed that I was sitting at my desk and my ass kept getting bigger and bigger.....and there were parties...... OH MY GOD, my ass is GOING TO EXPLODE! (Or I've been indulging in too many damned cookies at the office parties and this is my ass's way to tell me to get off it for a change.)</div><div><br /></div><div>However. You saw his head explode in a car. Are you CERTAIN that his head didn't explode from frustration at getting yet another damned phone call from some desperate married chick who's clinging to him like a limpet? No?</div><div><br /></div><div>You ask "... how can I share such a sickening dream with someone who has been offered a job after months of unemployment?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Ok. I get it. I've met people like you. You say you've been speaking to him about his job search for months. No doubt he unburdened himself to you, told you about his insecurities and cried on your shoulder. I get it. He did that, and it made you feel helpful, useful and (admit it) JUST a teensy bit superior to him. </div><div><br /></div><div>Because that's what people like you do, right? ALL of your friends need help, or are in a jam, or have terrible problems, don't they? Some might even be deathly ill. Whatever their problems, you seek them out, because only around broken people do you feel whole. You aren't interested in being around happy people that have their lives under control and are having fun. There's no fun in that for you, is there?</div><div><br /></div><div>Once your "first love" gets a real job and is a happy camper, you're going to drop him like a hot rock, right? Just like (I'm guessing here) the girlfriend that had the cancer scare, or the other one that almost died in that car accident and took so long to recover. Everyone has met someone like you. You're the "crisis friend". You convince people that you only want to help, that you'll do what you can, then you dump them when their lives get back to normal. </div><div><br /></div><div>So go ahead. Tell your "first love" about the dream. If your wildest hopes come true, he'll refuse to take the job and you'll be able to provide that shoulder again. Not. You know that's not what'll happen if you DO make this huge dramatic announcement.</div><div><br /></div><div>It'll give him a good laugh when he leaves for work overseas. You know. Where he'll have a stopover in Paris, meet a gorgeous and much-younger woman who doesn't look like you in the LEAST and decides to stay there and make babies with her and live a life of comfort and ease never speak to you again.</div><div><br /></div><div>Get over yourself. Quit spending your time on the phone with sad single men and START spending time with your family. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>2. You silly bitch. What a jerk you are. You see a kid a couple of times a month, you don't talk to him and from that you've decided that you don't LIKE him? Really? Then again, why should he like you? You think kids are stupid? Do you sincerely believe that this poor little bugger doesn't KNOW that you wish he wasn't around?</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP!</div><div><br /></div><div>Let's review. This kid's parents are divorced. Check. BOTH of them have met someone else, BOTH of them have new babies, so where does that leave him? Everyone's having fun with their respective babies while HE gets shuffled around between houses like used lawn furniture and you're SURPRISED he's not a happy kid around you? Duh. </div><div><br /></div><div>I feel for your boyfriend. He should have known better than to reproduce with an unholy, screaming, selfish, trashy bitch like you. Now the poor bastard's stuck with you and your squalling brat for eternity and you're going to make sure he knows it, aren't you?</div><div><br /></div><div>What do you expect your boyfriend to do? Drown the six-year-old so you don't have to deal with him any more? Sell him to a road crew somewhere overseas? Tell the kid that he can't be his Daddy any more because wifey number two is a.....bitch with entitlement issues? The hilarious thing is that YOU are reconsidering marrying HIM. Gawd that's funny!</div><div><br /></div><div>Listen, moron. If you marry that man YOU ARE THE KID'S STEPMOTHER. You won't have a choice about having him in your life. That means that you have to act like a PARENT to that kid. I won't even BEGIN to go into the fact that you should have been doing that already. It never sunk in with you that a kid can never get too much love, has it? </div><div><br /></div><div>No. I quit. People like you can't be reasoned with. You're like the kid that hides all of her Barbies behind the wallboard so that even YOU can't play with them, just to keep them away from everyone else.</div><div><br /></div><div>Make a decision. Make it fast. When you leave, sign all of your parental rights for your own child over to it's father. Do it now. At least then YOUR kid won't have to deal with you not liking him/her just for being in the same room as your exalted self. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>3. So you had to sit through a boring etiquette seminar. Ok. Those things are not designed to be fun. There were some things said that you didn't seem to grasp, though, so naturally you chose to take offense instead.</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP!</div><div><br /></div><div>This will be a short seminar. Then you can go home and bitch about me. Hell, you can even bitch TO me, just post your comments below, you idiot.</div><div><br /></div><div>Managers arrange these seminars for a bunch of reasons. They've got a few people in the office that are...slobs. They dress badly. They smell. They show too much skin. Could be a lot of things. Management is afraid of offending people by singling them out so they subjected everyone to the same lecture. </div><div><br /></div><div> Here's what they were REALLY saying:</div><div><br /></div><div>a) It's NOT acceptable to "snow" all over the place. Someone in your office has horrendous dandruff and <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>THIS WAS A HINT. </div><div><br /></div><div>b) It's NOT acceptable to wear clothes that let the cottage cheese hang out all over the place. Someone in your office is wearing clothes that make them look like a pudding stuffed into a sock and THIS WAS A HINT.</div><div><br /></div><div>c) It's NOT acceptable to wander around with skin looking like the dark side of the moon with big zits dripping pus all over the place. THIS WAS A HINT. </div><div><br /></div><div>d) It's NOT acceptable to greet every human being you meet with a surly expression on your face. NOR is it acceptable to greet people with dirty, rotting teeth ( I'm assuming that your company has dental) and breath that smells like the newly opened two week old grave of an unembalmed leprosy victim after a heavy rain. THIS WAS A HINT.</div><div><br /></div><div>e) You are totally making up the gray hair thing. MORE likely, there is someone (or a few someones) who not only don't wash their hair more than once a year, they don't even bother combing it from time to time. THIS WAS A HINT.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, and tell your colleagues of color that the term "good (meaning light) skin" has NEVER been something that white people use. Only black people use that phrasing. That's something that black people say to other black people in the context of, "Oh, what a lovely little boy! And he has such good skin!" </div><div><br /></div><div>Tell them to get over themselves. They're hunting for trouble where there very likely is none. </div><div><br /></div><div>Got it now? Someone Up There wants the staff to start taking care of themselves and make a better impression on clients. You ladies need to get a grip, pay attention to what was said and make the changes. Do it now. And...</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>4. Yadda yadda.... you're broke, the bride bullied you into her pay-to-play wedding and you don't WANT to be a bridesmaid but you're too much of a chickenshit child to refuse...</div><div><br /></div><div>SHADDAP! </div><div><br /></div><div>Tell the bride to piss off. You don't have a job, and that means you have no money. TELL HER THAT. She's supposedly your friend, right? So? You don't talk to your friends? </div><div><br /></div><div>Grow up, concentrate on getting a job and dump this so-called "friend". You aren't doing yourself any favors by keeping her around. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yeesh. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Aunt Messyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07424781871244170075noreply@blogger.com12