What the fuck, kids?

Well, here goes!

Photograph copyright 2013, all rights reserved.

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.

Photograph copyright 2013, all rights reserved.

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. 

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. 

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. 

Photograph copyright 2013, all rights reserved.

Back to the topic. 

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. 

Why, you ask? Why is it a bad idea? 

Lemme tell ya.........

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

Again - we've heard it all before. Nothing new there. 

Photograph copyright 2013, all rights reserved.

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!"

You know that line of shit. For anyone who thinks that way, I say: 

SHADDAP!

You fucking morons. 

What surprised the hell out of me, though, was the sheer tonnage of women who support Emily's shite! 

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! 

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! 

What the fuck is that? And a resounding 

SHADDAP!

To you, too! 

Photograph copyright 2013, all rights reserved. 

I'm guessing that, at this point, y'all can see that I'm a bit pissed off about this garbage. 

Ahem. 

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. 

SHADDAP, EMILY!

Photograph copyright 2013, all rights reserved.

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. 

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! 

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:

Women get raped because men CHOOSE to rape them. 

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. 

To this I say

SHADDAP! 

Assholes. 

Photograph copyright 2013, all rights reserved.

What are we teaching boys, here? How would it harm boys to be told, from earliest youth, that its NOT OK to:

1. Shove your penis into an unconscious human. 

2. Shove your penis into someone who says "no".

3. Shove your penis into someone that you've never met when both of you are sober. 

How complicated is that? 

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? 

What the fuck, people? 

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. 

Photograph copyright 2013, all rights reserved. 

And here's where I have to disclose that I have been raped. Violently. Repeatedly. Left for dead. (Clearly I didn't die) 

I don't want sympathy. That was a LONG time ago, I have moved on. 

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. 

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. 

To these people again, a rousing

SHADDAP!

Photograph copyright 2013, all rights reserved. 

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. 

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. 

SHADDAP, EMILY! 

Photograph copyright 2013, all rights reserved. 

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? 

I'm going to end this with a pretty picture - the money shot that everyone who goes to Yellowstone tries to get. Gorgeous, right? 

It's been too long. But I'm back!

(Photograph copyright December, 2012, all rights reserved)

All righty then....

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.

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.

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.

SHADDAP!!

1. So. Where to start with your stupid, LW? 

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. 

SHADDAP! 

What the fuck is your problem, you moron? 

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. 

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. 

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! You shout. I DESEEEEEEEEEEEEEERVE to know my MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMY!

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, even though she doesn't want to know you at all! 

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.

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?

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. 

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.

If this garbage you're pulling is because you don't like what you've done with your own life, then get over yourself. 

Take the hint. Leave these people alone. 

2. Awwwwwwwwwwwwww, poor ickle babykins! How rough your life is! 

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. 

These things tell me that you are not stupid. At least in terms of IQ. 

Prudie was right, though. You ARE an entitled silly bitch. 

SHADDAP!

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. 

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? 

You say, as if it's no fault of your own, "...isn't passion and attraction an essential ingredient to a healthy relationship?"

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. 

You say, "....I'm scared my family will love him so much I will be pressured into marrying him."

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.

Then you pop out with this little gem, "How do I improve a man without demoralizing his ego?"

Seriously? You don't get to change people. He is an adult. He is fully cooked. He has a life, and he likes it. 

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. 

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.

3. 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. 

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. 

Hoo boy. Where to start with this one....

SHADDAP! 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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.

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. 

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. 

4. 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.

______________________________

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. 

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. 

This was never an issue for them. They never gave it a ton of thought. 

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. 

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.

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. 

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. 

Grow The F%@k Up!

(Photograph copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)


Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Happy Solstice! Joyeux Noel! ..... I can't cover every single holiday. Happy December!

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.

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.

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.

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....

It's hilarious.

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)

However:


1. 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.....

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."

You go on to say that "Christmas Eve has been ruined!" You're even threatening not to celebrate this year....

SHADDAP!


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?


Grow the fuck up, sister.

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.

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?

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?

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.


2.  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.

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...

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.

No SHADDAPS  for you.


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?

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.

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.

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.


3. 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.

SHADDAP!


Grow the fuck up, you whiner!

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?

You petty bitch!

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?

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?

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.

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.


4. 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?

SHADDAP! 


SHADDAP!


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.

You don't want to bother sending a card thanking them.

Grow the fuck up. Both of you.

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?

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:

"Dear Auntie ___ and Uncle___

Thank you so much for your gift. I used it to take a friend out to lunch and we had a lovely time.

I hope your holiday was enjoyable.

Signed

Snotty bitch"

It takes mere minutes. As one poster pointed out, it takes less time than you took to whine to Prudie. Get over yourselves.


_______________________________________________________



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....


1. SHADDAP! 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.

2. 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.

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.

3. 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.

4. 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.

5. No matter how silly or useless the present is, thank the person who gave it to you.

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.

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.

6. 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.

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.

7. 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.

8. 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.

9. 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?

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.

10. 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.

_____________________________________________________

Happy Holidays, All!

I'll see you in the New Year.

Out Pop the Assholes! They're Everywhere!

(Photograph copyright November 2011, all rights reserved.)


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.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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........

Now for the letters. Prudie really cacked it up this week. Why am I not surprised?


1. 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,

SHADDAP! 


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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.


2. 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?

SHADDAP!


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.

However.

Your in-laws are assholes. See above.

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.

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.

If anyone says a word to you, tell them to piss off. Use those words.

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.

See? Easy!


3. Yadda yadda yadda. Yap skawk, bitch, complain, whine........ your girlfriend's stepfather paints nude portraits of her and it squicks you out. Whatever.

SHADDAP!


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.

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.

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.

Now get lost, kid. You bother me.


4. You have your blankie. Your boyfriend says that's gross and wants you to get rid of it.

SHADDAP!


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.

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.

These are all normal things. Just about everyone has something like this. Here's what you tell your boyfriend:

"Hey asshole, shut up about the blankie! This is not a discussion, I'm telling you to shut up about the blankie."

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.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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.

Dumb Broads, Dumb Broads.....

(Photographs copyright 2011, all rights reserved.)

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.

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.

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.

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?

Sigh. But now I have to confront the stupid. Find the letters here  (Ok Slate, you win, you bastards. I can't believe you won't allow me to post the link.)

Kids - go to the link above, click on "life", then go to "Dear Prudence". Sorry about the link. Grrr.

Ahem.


1.  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:

"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."

So, here goes:

SHADDAP! you stupid bitch!

See, I know where you're coming from....

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.

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.....

SHADDAP! again!

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.

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.

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.

Your sister has every right in the world to resume her life. If you had one yourself, you would know this.

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.


2. 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?

WTF?

SHADDAP!


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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.


3. And here's another woman who's choosing to embrace the stupid rather than make a fucking decision. to summarize:

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...

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.

SHADDAP!


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.

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.

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?

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.

Good dental hygienists are in demand and there are (phobias notwithstanding) a LOT of very nice dentists out there.

Dumbass.


4.  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.

Oy.

SHADDAP!


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!

SHADDAP! again....


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?

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.

 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.

Quit being such a fucking sissy and stand up for your kid.

Idiot.


-----------------------------------------------------------------------

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.

Ah... Time to retire to a delicious dinner, a glass of wine, and a cat on my lap. Perfect therapy for miserable weather.

SHADDAP! Grow The Heck Up Edition

(Photograph copyright 2011, all rights reserved.)


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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

(Find the letters here(ish):

http://www.slate.com/articles/life/dear_prudence_my_abusive_mother_haunts_my_dreams_


1.  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.

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.

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.

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

SHADDAP!


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.

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.

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.


2.  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.

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!

SHADDAP!


That's all very well and good, but you wrap it all up with the following two sentences:

"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?

SHADDAP! again.


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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.


3.  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.

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...".

SHADDAP! 


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.

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?

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!

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.

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.

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.


4. Oh, this is an easy one. It really is. I love this stuff.

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?

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.

SHADDAP!


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?

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.

I hope your mother boxes your ears when you tell her your plan. You deserve it.


__________________________________________________

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.

Pitiful, right?

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.

SHADDAP! Open Your Eyes Edition

(Photograph copyright 2011, all rights reserved.)


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.

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."

"How about that vase?"

"Charlie."

"Weren't we supposed to have cake for dessert?"

"There was a cake. It got Charlied."

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.

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).


1. 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.

You naturally went to your husband and got a spiel that would make any con man blush, it's so transparent.

"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*

Whatever. Tell him to

SHADDAP!


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....

SHADDAP!


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.

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?

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.

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!"

If you had taken say, six months to get to know the guy, you wouldn't be in this mess, hormone-girl.

SHADDAP!  


Look. *takes a deep breath* This guy is what Dan Savage calls a CPOS. For the uninitiated, that's Cheating Piece Of Shit.

Now go away, kid. You bother me.


2. 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?

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?

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?

SHADDAP!


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?

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.

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.


3. 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.

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

See, the kid's parents now want half his tuition back. To the tune of $80,000.00. Now.

To continue:

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

SHADDAP!


First, go for a walk. Think while you're walking. Ready for the smack upside the head that is reality?

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.

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...

SHADDAP!


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?

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.

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.


4. This is another easy one, but I suspect that I'm going to catch some hell with my answer.

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.

Got that? So

SHADDAP!


and let me answer. Thank you.

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.

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.

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.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gotta go. Charlie wants a hug. He is just so stinking cute! You should hear that purr.