Fanatical Freaks

Prelude – this blog is not a hate blog against republicans!! It is a hate blog against the fanatical fringe freaks! I do not want to offend anyone or make anyones political beliefs seem insignificant. I love this country and respect the fact that we are allowed to vote and have our separate political parties and beliefs.


What is wrong with these fanatic fringe freaks?. No, they are not racist – everyone walks around with a stuffed monkey perched upon their shoulders and run their daily errands with a sign of our President sitting on the porch drinking kool aid and eating fried chicken. I abhor the behavior of these uneducated, unbathed fanatical freaks!! They hide behind the guise of political beliefs to bring their racist stupidity to the masses. Thankfully it is difficult for them to spread the word of hate, it is near impossible to understand them when they are speaking at a two year old level and can’t pronounce theirs S’s due to a mouth full of gums. I have never seen one of these jerks with anymore than two teeth in their mouth. (I will not even touch upon their fashion sense, just let it be known, anyone clad in purple sweat pants, a green sweatshirt and knock off crocs has serious issues and should never be taken serious!).

Well my faithful few, watching them rally on TV is so funny, I cringe with delight. They are unable to form a complete sentence or thought. They remind me of ants, following two by two into the ant trap. It is utterly joyful to watch these morons! Speak hate and you will end up in the orange tin of raid, it is only a matter of time. A large portion of the fanatical freaks do not even vote, so KEEP YOUR DAMN MOUTH SHUT, please – hide your infected gums!. If you don’t vote your opinion is like a fart in the wind. Today, one of the toothless wind farters invaded my space!

I was innocently stopped at a red light, waiting to take a left to enter the industrial park where I work. Beside me stopped at the same light, heading straight, was a large, loud (hoopty would be giving the truck too much credit) ugly, circa 1989 p/u truck. What is wrong with this you ask? I will tell… on the side of the door was a large, 3 ft x 3ft magnetic decal that stated “Obama the Commie” I had to see who was driving this limousine, sporting such a well phrased political statement. I crane my neck to look up (the large bald tires held this man well above the rest). Of course!! I set my gaze upon a very scruffy guy. He was wearing his ball cap backwards and gasp, missing a front tooth. All I could think to myself was, poor guy, he obviously had a horrendous childhood. I am sure his mom was a drunk who never hugged him. Probably doesn’t even know who his daddy is. Wait a minute, a wave of recognition, he was on Jerry Springer! (alright, so the Jerry Springer thing is false, but the rest surely is true!)

I attempted to ignore the ogre beside me. But he did not have the same couth. You see, I have a small, well placed sticker on the rear window of my car. It reads Obama/Biden. He noticed it as I turned left and shock of all shocks, this upstanding american beeped and flipped me off!!! The nerve of this asshole! Of course I couldn’t do anything. I am sure he was carrying an arsenal of weaponry in the vehicle. My little keychain flashlight would be no match for this gun toting fanatical freak.

He is lucky to live in America, he can proudly display his magnet and drive around spewing his hate. God bless the fanatical freak fringe, they need his blessings!

Fuzzy tail

I am unsure if he is dead or alive. I do know for certain his wish was to die! Suicidal is the only way to explain his actions of the morning.

I was a warm but bleak morning. The ground was still damp from the evenings rain. The sun was attempting to shine but had not mustered up the courage yet. I was driving to work singing aloud to a Mellencamp Song (Pink Houses) Thinking to myself, in 8 hours this day will be over. Little did I know my daily morning commute to work may have possible change the life of a vermin family forever!

I saw him before he saw me. He did a little jig on the side of the street and scurried half way back to the grassy area on the side of the road. I slowed down, and said aloud, WHEW little buddy that was close. Then, suddenly he made an abrupt turn, right into the path of my moving Subaru! NO!!! NO!!!. There was no where I could go! Couldn’t cut the wheel, was unable to slam on the brakes! I was afraid to look back. Not sure of what carnage I may see. I am still unsure if the fuzzy big tailed squirrel made it back to his wife and kids.

All that little guy had to do was stop me, hop in and tell me of his woes. I would have happily volunteered to help him search for acorns to feed the family. I definitely would have offered him and his kin a warm place to stay in one of the vacant offices in my building. Oh Why didn’t he just ask for help. Suicide is not the answer!!! I want to send an open apology to the fuzzy tailed family. I do hope I did not murder your dad or brother. If he is hurt and unable to afford to go to the hospital, please inform him I will be happy to cover any costs incurred. I do not know if vermin are covered under Obamas new plan.

So fuzzy family, if the unspeakable has penetrated your life, just know I am here for you. I do not want job loss, the high cost of living and food to impact another member of your little commune. When you see me driving past that little grass hill, raise your tails in unison, I will be looking. When I see you waving, I will stop. I will give you cash and take you wherever it is you desire. Please know, this was not my fault. If it wasn’t me it would have been another innocent motorist feeling the guilt at this moment! Help is only a tail wag away.

Time savers

I have been thinking about ways I waste my time. I love to sleep, if I were so blessed I would sleep as often as my cat. Unfortunately, I have things that must be done. The question is why? I know I am wasting my time doing such things. Here a few I may cut out of my day.

Cleaning my sons room: I must spend 3 hours a week doing this and for what? I get it all cleaned up and I watch him on the video monitor DESTROY it. All the things I have neatly placed in baskets and bins are dumped out immediately!!! I am watching him as I write this. The demon spawn is removing items one by one and placing them back to the middle of this bedroom floor. He must want his mom to break her toe!! Maybe he just prefers to live amongst a chaotic mess (he is his fathers son)

Feeding the family: I put forth a great effort to feed my family healthy and delicious meals. For some reason within an hour of me feeding them, I am changing a diaper and/or opening a window and spraying air freshner in the bathroom. What a waste of time and money. Think of how much money would be saved if I only fed them sporadically throughout the week. Not to mention the savings on the sewer bill, diapers, toilet paper and air freshner. I may be onto something with this idea. How much food is really necessary to sustain human life? Third world countries only eat once a week, if they are lucky!

Grooming my child: This takes an inordinate amount of time. Bathing, trimming nails and toes, washing clothes, brushing teeth. Lets start with bathing; he is two! Aren’t two year olds supposed to be dirty, I could save myself a half hour a night by just avoiding this ritual. Nail and toe clipping, if they get long enough they will just break off, so why waste my limited time. The laundry, c’mon, he outgrows his clothes so fast that instead of washing drying and folding, I should just make a quick trip to Target and get him a few new duds to wear. Brushing his teeth, this is a big one as far as time goes. I have to convince him he wants to brush his teeth, and then spend a long time fighting the toothbrush out of his clenched teeth, aren’t they going to fall out anyways?

Well my faithful few, I think I may have just found a way to get more sleep!! So for all you moms who do not have enough “me” time; I implore you to use follow these helpful tips yourself. I am more helpful than Martha Friggin’ Stewart!

permanent damage

I hope to find the same joy in scarring my child emotionally for life as my parents found in doing it to me.

I will point out a few moments that are still vivid in my memory.

I was playing softball (“playing” is really pushing it). Let me re-word, I was on the softball team. My dad was ever faithful and came to all my games. However, there is a caveat. He would arrive with a skip in his step and wearing very gaudy green and read plaid pants with Gold piping going through them. My faithful few, as horrid as you imagine them to be, you must magnify the image tenfold. As if this was not enough to damage his lovely little girl - donned on his face were black plastic glasses with a large rubber pig nose attached (he found these at a joke shop and could not resist wearing them at every appropriate moment). I would want to die when I saw him coming. At least he showed up, on more than one occasion, he was the only parent cheering on a child. (Cheering? More like embarrassing the ever living hell out of me!) What happened to these very fashion forward pants you ask – in a very fortunate twist of fate, my cat Tessie birthed her kittens on these very pants – there is a god!!!

On occasion my mom happened by the school and would kindly give some of my friends a lift home. My mom who sings like a bird (being attached by a ruthless cat) had the car radio blaring and was belting out some vintage Janis Joplin. What goes hand in hand with a Joplin ditty, the head bob, of course! During her Joplin induced epileptic fit my mom stopped the car, naturally I though it was time to let my friend out. I opened the car door and hopped out. I did not know my mom was not done driving the vehicle, she was unable to hear the door open while her brains were being jolted about in her skull with the head bopping. Well, to make a long story short, she ran over my foot. My friends are extremely lucky it was not one of them who exited the vehicle first! I was so upset, there were tire tracks on my brand new light blue converse all star high tops. Without further incident, we got my friends safely to their front doors. My mom was going on about how many bones are in a foot and off to the ER we went. It is amazing how much weight a foot can actually support. Nothing was broken, sprained or even bruised. Yet another miracle!

When my parents were not embarrassing me they would be down right cruel. Sinister, the epitome of pure evil. If I did not heed my mothers second call to “rise and shine” these demon parents would begin to blare the Ramones, their song of choice “it’s not my place in the 9-5 world”. Awaking to the screeching sounds of Joey Ramone will make someone instantly angry, if not insane. Who does this to their child, and more importantly WHY???

Dating was the worst! All dates (Yes I had hundreds!!, ok maybe, 3) had to go to the door, the honking of a horn was strictly forbidden. My parents would easily chit chat with my date while he stared dumfounded, my date had same look a squirrel has prior to the impact of a tire. Eventually we would be on our way. Inevitably we had to return to my driveway. And what was in my driveway, a huge halogen spotlight. If (god forbid!!) we were to linger in the driveway for more than two minutes, my mother would begin flashing that light incessantly. Our entire driveway would look like a 70’s disco floor. Not to mention it makes it very difficult to find your dates lips when your eyes are unable to focus due to the orbs floating in them.

Somehow I managed to survive these less than pleasant occasions, and I am sure my son will thrive as well!

a moms neurosis

I have come to a conclusion. My mother is one of the most wonderfully neurotic individuals on the planet. I love her to death, but she gets some strange thoughts in her head.

When I was young I could only sleep at a select few friends house. If I recall, maybe three, and not very often. Her reasoning “she liked to hear me breathing at night.” I guess if I slept at another’s house I would suddenly forget how to perform the most basic of human functions. She would worry about what type of shoes I was wearing; the wrong kind would not have enough support and would surely lead to flat feet in my adult years.

Sugar cereal was a definite no-no! I would look forward to the (very few) times I would sleep at a friends. They had a might treasury – Sugar Pops! I would savor every spoonful! In my mom’s defense, Harvey Milk was murdered by someone who used “the Twinkie” defense to get a light jail sentence. She must have been concerned I may have gone insane from sugar intake.

She would not allow me to be left unattended in her car until I was 15. This included 2 minute trips inside the convenient store. There is an abundance of kidnappers who are looking to abduct a gawky, smart mouthed 15 year old. And once I reached the glorious age to be left unattended, she always took the keys and made sure the doors were locked!

She has not outgrown these methods. They have been transferred to her grandchildren. I blogged about my son, she was very upset. She felt for certain someone would kidnap him.

Now that I am a mom, I see the apple does not fall far from the tree. I find myself worrying constantly about the smallest issues. Most are unfounded, but I cannot help myself.

Every morning when I put his shoes on I check to make sure they still fit. I cannot say for certain his feet did not grow 2 inches while sleeping. I listen to the monitor to ensure he is breathing. I overdress him to be sure he is warm. I inspect, sanitize and keep close watch on the smallest of scrapes; I do not want it to turn into a puss infested infection. When he bumps his head, I say a little prayer to myself that he has not caused irreversible brain damage. I keep close watch on everyone that comes near him. I trust no one!

I hope that as a mom, I am as neurotic, caring and strong as the woman who raised me.

I am a survivor!!!

I had a very difficult childhood. It befuddles me how I survived. I am thankful that somehow I overcame the odds and thrived. Let me explain.

In my early years I did not have a cordless phone. If I wanted to have a private conversation – forget it! I would have stretch the cord to its breaking point trying to find a personal space out of my parents hearing range. Surely strangulation was inevitable. When my folks broke down and got a cordless phone – I thought my worries were over, how wrong I was! The phone came fully equipped with a 3 ft hard metal antenna that was always snapping off when I would walk under a doorway. To fix this problem I would finagle a makeshift new one with an old wire coat hanger, I could have gotten tetanus and perished.

Texting did not exist; in order to talk to a friend I would have to risk life and death. First, I would have to avoid strangulation or tetanus and call them. After contacting them I would have to get up, and head for the door. The door was at the bottom of a flight of stairs, I surely could have fallen and instantly broken my neck. I would head out the door on a journey (yes my young friends I would have to walk, I could not IM or text them) to meet them halfway between their house and mine. How could walking be dangerous you ask, I could have been lunch for a rabid coyote. If a friend was late meeting me I could not pull out my cell phone to insure they were safe. I would worry terribly, thoughts would come to my head “did they get kidnapped by a band of wandering gypsies?” How I did not drop dead right there from stress still amazes me.

This is just the beginning of how perilous life was in the olden days of the 1980’s. Take for example, if I wanted to play a game of baseball, I could not to do in the safety of my own home and just fire up the Wii. OH NO! I would have to go to the open field, get a bunch of other children (who were as stupid and death defying as myself) and play together. With human contact comes germs, luckily this was before the SARS epidemic.

Renting a movie was a MAJOR ordeal and very, very treacherous. Everyone would pile in my dads 1984 Chevy Chevette (not known for their 5 point safety standards) . Off to the rental store we went. Not only would we have to grab a movie, but also rent the VCR. This was a hulking heavy machine. If you were to drop it on your toe you would surely break it, a broken toe left unattended leads to gangrene and eventually an early demise. If you were fortunate enough to beet the odds of gangrene, at the very least you would sprain a finger from pressing the stupid Rewind button. This button was difficult to press, it took a ton of finger strength.

Wikepedia was something we never heard of. To research a school paper we would have to go to the library. This in itself seems safe enough, but you must delve a little deeper. The encyclopedias were old, and what goes hand in hand with old paper, you got it…paper mites! These harmless looking bugs could easily crawl into your ear canal and burrow directly to your brain, causing an aneurism. I know of no one who survived a paper mite aneurism in the 80’s. Sad!

It is with a heavy heart that some of my peers were not hardy enough to survive the 80’s. It was a difficult era. But for those that did, we will never forget cheating death and are proud to call ourselves SURVIVORS!

Let me introduce you to Billy

Sex: Male
Height: 3 ft
Weight: 29 lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blonde
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Age: 2

Other pertinent information:

- Screams like a wild turkey at the slaughter machine (Melodic voice, future in the opera )

- Refuses to do as told (very independent)

- Does not like teeth being brushed (eco friendly, a tree hugger)

- Uses domestic pets as bike ramps (includes family pets in all activities)

- Dumps full sippy cups all over everything (likes to experiment with action and
reaction theory)

- Walks around in his moms crocs (in touch with his feminine side)

- Talks back (has a strong opinion regarding the world around him)

- Insists on death defying climbs that lead to near death falls (Will be the youngest person in history to scale Mt Washington)

- Steals food from others plates (enjoys a variety of nutritious snacks)

- Insists mom does everything wrong (the kids a genius, he is all knowing)

- Sleeps atop a pile of steel blocks (covets his matchbox collection)

- Has the biggest heart – loves everyone he meets unconditionally

- The best laugh in the world, starts in his feet and exits his mouth
Gentle, kind and sincere

Has not met anyone that does not fall deeply and madly in love with him, and his less than perfect but quirky ways

Hey Stupid

Ok America, we need to take back our Country. The stupid people are procreating at an unprecedented rate of speed. We could eat them as some do rabbits, it seems a bit extreme, but at this point another option eludes me!

I have scientific facts to back up my theory. Here are just a few

I am going to take a lot of heat for this one, but here it goes….McCain/Palin voters. C’mon these individuals don’t even have the common sense to see a dentist

Crooked parkers – Really, hey dumbass, The parking lot is crowded, why the fuck do you need to park you 1991 ford temp in two spots, Don’t worry, you won’t notice the new dent from a door or shopping cart

Hey bitch, glad you said “hi” to your neighbor, but I have a cart that needs to get down the same aisle. Throw the Ring Dings in your cart and move your fat ass along

You new your were going to a concert, didn’t you know this would be tight quarters, bath!!! At the very least, throw some right guard under those pits. And HEY, Stop jumping I can’t see the band! Did you just singe my hair with that flippin lighter?

Your opinion? Did I ask for it? NOPE! Zip it dumb ass!

Hey what’s for dinner, it is dark out, dining room light on, are you nudists? YES you are I can see all from the street – close the curtains!

Shit for brains- did you need all the flyers and coupons from Sunday’s paper? Sorry my smart ass slept in until 8, looks like you dragged your slug butt out of bed and beat me to the coffee shop and took out the coupons from the paper – you obviously need them more than I.

WOW! I just saw a real fugitive, he looked like a middle age dad, but the way he sped past me to get to the same red light definitely tells me he is running from the law – Hello Americas most wanted – I found one!

Did you look in the mirror today and tell yourself a half shirt looks good on your body after having 5 kids, YIKES – you are stupid.

This list could go on and on, but I need to keep my faithful few coming back for more. Thanks all for your continued support, even you McCain voters!

Bad Reality

Social networking sites are great. Facebook has afforded me the opportunity to rekindle friendships (I will post another day about the night of rekindling). On the other side of the coin, I found it brings out some nastiness. I am not shy to post to my status, or type a witty clip. I always try to keep it upbeat and pleasant.

When two “facebook friends” have a spat it can get ugly.(Really people, fangs replace teeth, they spew green vomit and then become large headed and bald) The FB lines are drawn. It is difficult to stay impartial. Each taking a jab at the other on their posts. It is not a pretty sight to behold. It burns my retinas, but yet I must keep reading, it is like a reality show unfolding on my computer.

How does this occur? I oft think to myself, after hitting she “share” button. “I hope no one is offended by this post.” I write the way it sounds in my head, (Yes this is dangerous, considering the way my mind thinks) I do hope my sarcasm isn’t mistaken for cruelty.

I naively used to wonder how one would be upset or take another posts to heart. But my faithful few, it understand it now. It cut to the core of a friend of mine. She is upset and hurt. After she vented her feelings to me I can no longer dismiss vile posts as harmless. It only takes a second to re-read what you have written and re-evaluate. Of course I understand it is YOUR page and therefore YOU have the right to type whatever the hell you deem appropriate. However, once you steer your negativity to another, it becomes THEIR cross to bear. A severed friendship is painful enough. Does anyone truly deserve the humiliation of knowing 60-500 “friends” are tuning in?

Why can’t we all just get along and live in a peaceful paisley world. Ok all, hum along with me… “kumbiah my lord, kumbiah!”

Gay angel

I love gay male sales people. I adore them!! I believe they are at the hub of all high end woman’s clothing stores. The do not get the credit they are so deserving of!

I went on a reluctant quest for some new pants today. Clothes shopping use to be a passion (when I was a size 2). Now that I am continuously expanding shopping is a horrible experience, I would rather suck on ice cubes made from glass! Today was a completely different experience! Thanks to my new gay salesmen friend.

I shuffled into the store ruing the fact that I needed yet more jeans. It would be much easier on my bank acct to loose some weight. But there he was, a beautiful jean finding angel; balding, slender and dressed to the nines. Shoes polished, nails nicely trimmed, with a simple swagger and great smile. My gay “fashion police”. Hallelujah!!!!

He must have spotted the frown on my face and the “woe is me walk”. He approached me, asked if he could help, I thought to myself, “sure dude, are you a plastic surgeon, do you have a magic fat sucking machine in the back?” I reluctantly informed him I was in need of some new denim. He looked me up and down (and not in the creepy straight guy way). He joyfully chimed, with your shape I highly suggest capris. I know they would fit you beautifully and look fantastic on your frame. Sure gay dude, clothes haven’t looked fantastic on me since I had my kid. I appeased him and let him dress me. After rummaging through the racks and occasionally mumbling to himself, he picked out a blouse and pants. Well, my faithful few, I must say, he did a tremendous job!! After I paid for my purchases, he stopped me before I exited, he informed me that a pair of tan mules with a slight heal would complete the outfit, but not to wear a necklace, as the ruffles going down the blouse would “fight with the jewelry”. I walked out of the store holding my bag as if it were filled with gold nuggets.

The best and most important part of this story is… wait for it…. the capris are a size FOUR!! Unfriggin believable! I am NOT a size four! Yet, my “gay angel” was able to locate a designer who runs their sizes small. I am not removing the tag off my ass. I will bend down every change I get. Everyone will see that size four. EVERYONE!!! I will giggle as they cackle “no way is SHE as size four”. I will point to my rear end and state “read it and weep biotches!!”

I will be seeing my new friend again next weekend. This time I am going on full fledged shopping spree. How can I go wrong?! No need to lose that weight! Not unless my new found personal shopper finds another occupation. Let’s hope that is a bridge I never have to cross.

trade offs!

It is that time of year, sunshine on your face and sand under your feet. What at glorious time of year. Most years I would be in agreement, one little negative, this time of year also means bathing suits.

In the not so distant past I didn’t have any issues with donning a skimpy piece of lycra. Now the sheer though of it brings me to my knees with worry. Back then I only had a small issue, my breast were the size of an overweight 12 year old boys. I could and did live with it. Off to the beach I went.

Things have changed drastically!!! While pregnant something amazing occurred – I finally grew the elusive breasts. I did not want to get excited and used to them, I feared my excitement would soon be depleted (literally and figuratively) . Well my faithful few, I am more than happy to report, they remain! In my life there cannot be a positive without a negative, along with the new additions to my upper torso, I also received an unwanted nasty guest. Girth around my belly!!! (UUUGGGHHH!!!!!! The horror!!) Why is it I can not have my new friends and the physique I did at 20? How sad is it cannot show off my mighty fine appendages without them being overshadowed by me newly formed belly.

Here is my predicament, and where your advice is needed. Do I purchase a bathing suit with a plunging neckline, or one with a granny skirt to cover my belly? Do they manufacture bathing suits with plunging necklines AND granny skirts?? Hmmm, if not, I may just design one.

Lola

By now, most of you have come to the conclusion I have a slight issue with OCD. It took full effect at work yesterday.

I noticed a single, innocent ladybug (well I don’t know how innocent she really was, for all I know she was the whore of the bug world, we will call her Lola) oops, I digressed. She was perched on the window by the copy machine. I knew she needed to be released, she would surely perish under the fluorescent office lights. I went into the break room and got a Dixie cup to safely contain her and set her free. In the seconds it took me to get the cup, she was gone. I was shocked! I thought ladybugs were sluggish insects, this, my faithful few, is a fallacy.

I became obsessed, must save Lola, where is she? I casually looked around the copier, no where to be seen. I began to panic. Was she on the bottom of some ones shoe? NO!! I had to find out. Without looking freakish, I attempted to peer at the soles of my coworkers shoes. Do not try this!!! The whole NOT looking freakish things does NOT work!

Throughout the rest of the day I in inconspicuously searched for my little harlot. My mind was racing, is she ok? Please Lola show yourself – I am here to help!

Sadly, my little red and black lady friend never reappeared. I hope she escaped safely. Little Lola, my thoughts are with you, best wishes!

One last thought – Never kill a lady bug, the stench is horrendous. This little tidbit of information was supplied by my mother. Hey, how does she know that, is she responsible for Lolas disappearance?!

Butter

I believe my brain does not function the same as most people. I get strange and impossible impulses in my mind. I cannot and will not let these ideas dissipate. I must complete whatever oddity my subconscious has dreamed up. The other day was no exception.

Out of the clear blue I decided I was going to make homemade butter. Yes my faithful few, just like the days of yore.

I was obsessed with locating the perfect “butter making jar”. I had no idea what type of jar this should be, I have never made homemade butter before. I couldn’t let that stop me. After spending hours cleaning out a pickle jar (nothing could be worse than butter with a pickle smell) I was ready to embark on my mission. Major problem, how the hell do you make homemade butter? Google HELP!

I sent my hubby out to the market to buy me some heavy cream. I poured the cream in the jar, added a touch of salt and began to shake. I continued to shake; I kept shaking the damn jar! I looked into the jar, and the feeling of failure took over my body. NO, I CAN DO THIS!!. Wait a minute, I just made whipped cream, hhmmm, must be close, keep shaking stupid! (as my body was thrashing I was singing little diddies in my head, this does help with the butter making process) The substance became powdery, shake harder, keep going. Wait a minute, the milk has gone to the top. I open my jar and there it is SUCCESS, beautiful creamy butter.

After all the physical strain I put my body through a normal individual would have thought great job, mission accomplished. But hell no…not me! I sent the hubby back out for more cream. This time I added a touch of Honey and Maple syrup to my concoction, yummy! I am not into sweet butter. Poor husband had to go back to the store. He was armed with a list; scallions, basil, garlic and dill. My herb butter was hit!

When I told my co-workers about my awesome achievement they sat dumfounded, listening with disbelief (and I would like to add probably a touch of envy…yeah, that’s right, envy!) and insisted that they must try some. Hubby just came back from the market. Take Two!.

Traditional pictures

If a stranger ever said to me “let your child sit on my lap and take a picture” his smile would end up looking like one of the visitors at a monster truck rally!!

So why is it I dress my child up, take him to wait in a line to do just that? This ritual happens twice a year, once at Christmas and once at Easter. It is insane. Who is behind that beard or scary rabbit head? A crack head, a drunk, a prison escapee? It could be anyone!! I could be leading my child straight onto the lap of very sick individual. But there I am, telling my baby to smile, look, it is Santa/Easter bunny. Today I did just that. I readily admit it my faithful few, I am the worlds most horrible mother. I am sure my son would agree.

My son did not want to wait in line, there was a fountain behind him. He wanted to play in the water and run up and down the steps, looking with amazement at the coins in it. I giddily looked at my husband and informed him to bring the baby to me, it is almost his turn. I brushed his hair one last time, made sure his clothes looked ok, led him by the hand to a freaky looking over sized rabbit. His suit probably riddled with germs from the many children who graced his lap prior.

My child did not want to sit with or be near this creature. I coaxed him, told him it would be ok, I cheerily said, “oh, look, it the easter bunny…yeah, say hi to him”. He refused! I picked up the frustrated child and placed him on the petri bowl lap of the man I know nothing about.

I have my yearly picture. It is of a screaming, miserable child. I think to myself, is it worth it? I teach my children to be leery of strangers. I thought to myself next year I will forgo this process. But, will I? I think not. I must find deranged humor in making my child miserable and uncomfortable.

I will show him the pictures when he is older. I just hope he doesn’t harbor any resentment towards me when he sees the sheer look of misery on his face!

Bullies

When does it begin? When does it end? How is it learned? When did school stop being a place on integration and learning and become a place of division and fear?

How much pain and humiliation do our youth have to endure before we, as a society step up and take control of bullies. Our future is dying.

Children, killing themselves, each other. Our youth afraid to be the quirky individuals they are. Teenagers being forced to “confirm” due to the torment caused by others if the refuse. Who gives a small group of pimple faced teenagers the right to harass others? Why are the “others” afraid to ban together and overcome the fear they face daily simply by walking into the halls of school? I do not have the answers my faithful few. But I will share my own experiences with bullying.

There was a girl who I was forced to interact with on a daily basis, she was in most of my classes. This bitch would whisper about me to others. She had the ability to get the weak on her side. She was able to herd weak minded drones like sheep. They began doing her bidding, it went from one tormentor to a group of 4 or 5. The taunting and down right evil comments were unbearable at times. I would go home and cry alone in my room. I was too ashamed to let my parents see my tears. A knot would appear in my stomach before going to school. I would look in the mirror, my hair looks good, shoes are new, clothes clean and pressed, but I knew…she would find something, then the one flaw she found would escalate with every taunting comment and my day would be miserable. What did I ever do to her, the others? Nothing! Not one damn thing! The most hurtful part of her incessant cruelty was that she was able to get someone I thought was a good friend to join her. Do this day I am leery of whom I call “friend”.

There was a boy (yes a boy) in the bus. We were sophomores in HS. And this troll looking, short redheaded fuck face would call me names on the bus. I had it, one day I screamed back. What did I get for it – he spit in the face and punched me very hard in the stomach. The physical pain I could deal with, but the humiliation still follows me.

I am proud to say I never bullied anyone. I can sleep at night knowing that. I caused no fear, I was kind to all I met. Those bullies were horrible teens, and they are even worse adults. Parents, please take the initiative and speak to your children about bullying. Let them know it is ok not to follow.