tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197171182024-03-14T11:49:00.999-07:00Conspiracy Theories ...from the Reality ChallengedThe best darn humor blog on the web. At least, that's the rumor I'm starting...sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.comBlogger154125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-3866241057772942372020-04-11T11:11:00.001-07:002020-04-11T11:11:47.865-07:00Cabin Fever: A Saga<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
dEAR WORLD:<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
FIRST OF ALL, I'M NOT SCREAMING AT YOU - I THINK MY BLOGGER IS SO APPALLED AT MY PRESUMPTION AT TRYING TO POST SO LONG AFTER <i>NOT</i> POSTING THAT IT'S REBELLING IN THE ONLY WAY IT KNOWS HOW - unrelenting, UNNECESSARY CAPS LOCK. SERIOUSLY, GUYS, I CAN'T TURN IT OFF.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I HEAR YOU BLOGGER, I HEAR YOU. (WE ALL DO. HA)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Secondly, let's address this twilight zone episode we're all unwittingly living in at the moment, shall we?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
so, it's not bad enough that we're reenacting a tom clancey novel and battling a deadly pandemic in the throes of all the rest of the world's insanity. in an epic move completely typical of our country, america took its cue and responded to the news of covid-19 by... buying up all the toilet paper?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
can... can someone explain this to me, please?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="Using Toilet Paper Like a Boss!" src="data:image/jpeg;base64,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" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
???</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i had to explain to my teenagers, as i handed out split paper towel rolls and sanitary wipes, that the stores had been stripped of even the 1-ply rolls of toilet paper that you buy between paydays when you scrounge together loose change you've shaken out of your furniture and vehicle crevices.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
but why, they asked- and i was just as vexed as they were. i shrugged and mumbled a quiet, "'Murica," and left it at that.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
oh, but then came the empty shelves where the bleach, lysol, hand sanitizers, hand soaps, and various other cleaning/sanitation supplies once sat. then went the bread, milk, eggs, etc.our local walmart started looking desolate, and it began to feel like a cast off episode of the walking dead just scanning the aisles for what was leftover that i could throw together to feed a football team worth of teenagers. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
the employees became jumpy and a request for smoked sausage prompted a panicked "there's no toilet paper!" from one poor employee, before he ducked and scuttled off into the back room.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="How Do You Punish Your Employees?" height="172" src="https://www.yegor256.com/images/2016/01/office-space.jpg" width="320" /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
so now, loaves of bread and cartons of milk and various other household necessities are rationed to one per person/household per day.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i have 6 teenagers at home. 6. they are out of school for the rest of the year. they're not allowed to go to friends' houses. they're turning feral on me, guys. and do you know what bored, feral teenagers do, when they're perfectly healthy and can't leave the house and the wi-fi lags so bad that it takes 3 hours to watch a half an hour of a show?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
they eat.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
and eat. and eat. and eat. then they poop, and eat some more, guys, i have a whole litter of them, and not feeding them after midnight is only successful when they're not capable of getting up and feeding themselves.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="Craziest Diet Food in Movies and Television : Cooking Channel ..." height="298" src="https://cook.fnr.sndimg.com/content/dam/images/cook/fullset/2013/12/31/0/CCDevour_weird-movie-diets-Gremlins_s4x3.jpg.rend.hgtvcom.616.462.suffix/1388517230450.jpeg" width="400" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>i tried, world, and i have failed.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
if i walk in with one gallon of milk, a $5 loaf of gluten-free, organic brick-bread, and no toilet paper, they're going to turn on me. all the progress i've made gaining their trust and assimilating them into our world will be lost. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
day whatever this is of quarantine: send backup (with bread and toilet paper); the natives are wild.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
(Apologies again for the poor formatting: this is all in caps lock in my drafts and no matter how many ways I go over it, it won't come out right when I publish. It would appear that the machines are rising as well. Good luck world, and may the odds be ever in your favor.)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="Katniss salute Blank Template - Imgflip" src="https://i.imgflip.com/i0s8q.jpg" /></div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-36584256876940770832018-12-29T12:43:00.001-08:002018-12-29T12:43:22.514-08:00Quick Update<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Who am I? Where am I? Why are there 15 popcorn tins and 5 metric tons of glitter in my living room?<br />
<br />
Guys. Christmas was CRAZY. Speaking of, I hope all of you had an AMAZING Christmas and, if I don't see you before then, Happy New Year! Here's to ringing in the new year <strike>urping into a trash can with all the bad experiences of 2018 whirling around our heads like the worst movie flashback ever</strike> with lots of hope and good fortune!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0LVudcx41M27Gow6PtVAbbGd4dLgcP16Uv4ExD10Cu73qKE5YPPLaBWFOo5pdGIEdfbOHc3u7Es1VerGDP2JjoeWB5fCL3p6xGbKkoUQXANfunrNQN-3cC4LLOnJ1psKhceAD/s1600/felix.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="218" data-original-width="500" height="139" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0LVudcx41M27Gow6PtVAbbGd4dLgcP16Uv4ExD10Cu73qKE5YPPLaBWFOo5pdGIEdfbOHc3u7Es1VerGDP2JjoeWB5fCL3p6xGbKkoUQXANfunrNQN-3cC4LLOnJ1psKhceAD/s320/felix.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The snozzberries really do taste like snozzberries. And Schnapps.</i></div>
<br />
So aside from giving my kiddos Diabetes with all the Christmas candy we bought and picking glitter off of absolutely. Every. Fricking. Thing. In the house (because we all know glitter is the Herpes of the craft world and holiday merchants can't create a product without it), I've pretty much been sleeping and drinking my own body weight worth of coffee every day to keep up.<br />
<br />
I'm not quite sure what to do with myself in the days between Christmas and New Years, since the kids are out of school and none of us really know what day it is from one day to the next. Our washer went out, which is totally the best Christmas gift EVER, considering there are 8 (!) people living in this house, 6 of them teenagers who, for some reason totally unknown to anyone other than them, inexplicably have to change at least twice a day.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4KmipSzdekbTiGYvW0pYro-RPFMG0TSR8GFpI-GEfE4bIMNxkeplqETm19BB2oU58uiJCncp6IfHe71lWVPmqap2Z59HcZmAsbWyNQEL7SS4YPTN1TQppFtr3J7AI5z7V_KeG/s1600/teen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="193" data-original-width="261" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4KmipSzdekbTiGYvW0pYro-RPFMG0TSR8GFpI-GEfE4bIMNxkeplqETm19BB2oU58uiJCncp6IfHe71lWVPmqap2Z59HcZmAsbWyNQEL7SS4YPTN1TQppFtr3J7AI5z7V_KeG/s320/teen.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>That outfit was like, so 2 hours ago Mom. Gah. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<br />
So now, I'm drowning in laundry, tinsel, and candy wrappers.<br />
<br />
Send help. And Starbucks.<br />
<br />
Happy Holidays guys!</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-68035668747772270752018-12-04T08:52:00.000-08:002018-12-04T08:52:10.302-08:005 Ways to De-Stress Your Holidays (Without Alcohol...Mostly)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hello lovelies!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp66667uJQ7U4wW-o4FFc63K90LJKEnqDvYQe4RgxIOxtY-R8RcX64qeVGgnkE6sYThSQSXI5zJfIexdHiDyBNV1ZXEy6yxkFYNS2XMh3JovKnUcSLw80gFA75S48Jboj74Fp7/s1600/bear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp66667uJQ7U4wW-o4FFc63K90LJKEnqDvYQe4RgxIOxtY-R8RcX64qeVGgnkE6sYThSQSXI5zJfIexdHiDyBNV1ZXEy6yxkFYNS2XMh3JovKnUcSLw80gFA75S48Jboj74Fp7/s320/bear.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>This is totally an accurate representation of my winter bod.</i></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's December, which means that many of us are currently weeping over eggnog and pie about, well, <i>everything.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><br />
</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This year, I'm finding myself in a situation where, financially, I can't even begin to measure up to the holiday hype that my girls and I became accustomed to. Like a lot of parents, I overcompensated in the past, since I had the means to do it (and sometimes even when I didn't). Growing up, my Dad was a Jehovah's Witness, so I didn't get to celebrate Christmas the way all my friends did. When I became a parent, not only was I excited at the prospect of Christmas for my kids, I had ZERO idea what a realistic Christmas looked like for normal, lower-middle class families. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Guys, I seriously based MY expectations of what my kids' Christmases should look like on what I saw on TV and in the movies.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMiDSR0CxRqu8sZvU2qsAxo6hQT2rK73UB5LYg8LwFpyYIlod6i1gltwtycuRGRMGHMoTHH6_HJmFsB9G1WUn0IWmedUt1CYoh1keiFBENljfXbcaz3O6VZ4lM3yxKSViAjRYD/s1600/Christmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMiDSR0CxRqu8sZvU2qsAxo6hQT2rK73UB5LYg8LwFpyYIlod6i1gltwtycuRGRMGHMoTHH6_HJmFsB9G1WUn0IWmedUt1CYoh1keiFBENljfXbcaz3O6VZ4lM3yxKSViAjRYD/s400/Christmas.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>This is not normal, guys. On any level.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Which brings me to my first point:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><br />
</b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>REMEMBER THE REASON FOR THE SEASON</b>. Okay, now I know that some of you have a religious take on Christmas, and that's wonderful. Some of you don't, and that's okay too. Either way, I'm pretty sure that when you think of Christmas, your first thought isn't, "I wonder how far I can go into crippling debt so my little Suzie has all the same stuff as her friends at school." </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div>
See, aside from my Gibbler-levels of insanity as far as how many presents I got my kids, I also have this thing where I can't stand the thought of someone not having somewhere to go on Christmas. My house was the hub for my family, and friends, and drifters, and whomever else had nowhere else to go on Christmas. Then, I have this other thing where I can't stand the idea of someone not having at least one present to open on Christmas, especially kids.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
GUYS.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Especially if you're short on cash, focus on one or two "big" presents for your kids, and then spend the rest of your energy of being a family. Put on your pajamas, pop some popcorn, and watch Christmas movies. Sing Christmas karaoke. Light a bonfire and drink hot chocolate and make s'mores, whatever. Make memories, not reasons to file Chapter 7. Your kids won't hate you for not getting them everything in the Sears catalog (do they even still have those?), I promise.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And if they do, they're probably going to shove you in a nursing home in 40 years or so, anyway. At least you'll know now to spend your retirement on a yacht instead of saving it for their inheritance.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIxABTr1hGcATnDUKQG4-kyyJD2IBcjQ0XA5Zs16RPhlVWMVnJC7RVJQaFN6QbH7IoCH0UZq6yYTCDdJ2R-krI7vXxmE2wzrCZ1T2livE7Qr5HzxBjd8-6VrU64wH6VcmFahsi/s1600/kidding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIxABTr1hGcATnDUKQG4-kyyJD2IBcjQ0XA5Zs16RPhlVWMVnJC7RVJQaFN6QbH7IoCH0UZq6yYTCDdJ2R-krI7vXxmE2wzrCZ1T2livE7Qr5HzxBjd8-6VrU64wH6VcmFahsi/s1600/kidding.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I was going to put something here about being just kidding, but I Googled "kidding," and literally all that came up was pictures of Jim Carrey. Wut.</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Speaking of family, I notice this strange phenomenon that happens during the holidays where people force themselves and each other to interact with people that they hate.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
STOP THAT.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Let me say that again, a little louder this time:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>STOP FORCING YOURSELF TO INTERACT WITH UNPLEASANT PEOPLE JUST BECAUSE IT'S THE HOLIDAYS. </b>Actually, ESPECIALLY since it's the holidays.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Look. We all have family members we don't get along with. Some of them we can tolerate in small doses, and some of them elicit heart palpitations just at the mere mention of their name. If you're the one hosting a get-together, you DO NOT have to invite these people. If you're attending someone else's get-together, you don't have to go, you don't have to stay the duration, and you don't have to spend any personal time with bitter Aunt Mildred who won't quit asking why you're getting so fat but still haven't given your poor mother any more grandchildren.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I know there's some kind of crazy etiquette that says it's rude not to include everyone that shares any semblance of DNA with you. But you know what else is rude? Getting an obligatory invitation and using it as a means to be a miserable poop stain on what should be a happy time of year.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMKuAvcs4XVnDMKMV5ltmdNJtqsk0dWZIFv94JToUYtXjSV694896U8jPreGj_H2crxdnAvVULrKdVW69RdWYjx-dzwW3zDEANuClbK-zDPiclC-2mbIz83hmoLNzSTKiVQxSN/s1600/smug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="299" data-original-width="450" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMKuAvcs4XVnDMKMV5ltmdNJtqsk0dWZIFv94JToUYtXjSV694896U8jPreGj_H2crxdnAvVULrKdVW69RdWYjx-dzwW3zDEANuClbK-zDPiclC-2mbIz83hmoLNzSTKiVQxSN/s320/smug.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>No, maybe YOU should skip that pie, you joy-sapping {censored}</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now, for those of you that still feel the need to buy something for everyone, or who like the look of extra presents under the tree (I'm not judging, I'm totally guilty of this too), here are a few tips:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>PEOPLE LOVE FOOD. </b>I know, duh. But here's the thing - you know those little tins of butter cookies that you can get at literally any mass retailer? How about those boxes of chocolate covered cherries/blueberries/apparently anything you can smother in liquefied sugar and chocolate and package? Little Debbie snack cakes? Boxes of hot chocolate?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
All of these things are under $3 (in most places) and qualify as presents if you wrap them and/or slap a bow on them. Especially for kids. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
If you're crafty, or especially good in the kitchen, you can get tins at Dollar Tree and fill them with fudge, cookies, chocolate-dipped pretzels, brittle, and all kinds of other super cheap but delicious things. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You know what else is great about food gifts? Unlike that crazy tie or pair of blinky reindeer socks, food is MUCH more likely to be appreciated, used, and NOT regifted. Christmas win!</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwprJ599U3JXKLKFdtSNtZKXTDcAjKiRqbLw3Nma4tzTtwfky2QIem7qjdGKXtcWR4Oe5L0LS_tuvC10M9ez4iBw7AhjhSqR_Q-O-SxFP6EsGviRPECvnE0ZTaBU2WU0Cc983t/s1600/bigstock-Excited-happy-girl-giving-thu-83186297-740x431.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="431" data-original-width="740" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwprJ599U3JXKLKFdtSNtZKXTDcAjKiRqbLw3Nma4tzTtwfky2QIem7qjdGKXtcWR4Oe5L0LS_tuvC10M9ez4iBw7AhjhSqR_Q-O-SxFP6EsGviRPECvnE0ZTaBU2WU0Cc983t/s400/bigstock-Excited-happy-girl-giving-thu-83186297-740x431.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The rum truffles are just truffles, but I feel great!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Speaking of cooking, here's another de-stressing tip:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>YOU ARE NOT, NOR DO YOU HAVE TO BE, MARTHA STEWART.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Or Rachel Ray. Or whoever the big timey chef is these days who has a special recipe for everything and acts like every breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snack should be presented like it's being prepared and served in the White House and is budgeted for people who really have too much money to begin with.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But Sandra, my mother/grandmother/auntie got up every year at the buttcrack of dawn and cooked everything from scratch. It's tradition!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I know, hypothetical reader, I know.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Still, do you really think the wonderful hostesses of Christmas past would have passed up pre-made pies or boxed stuffing if it meant spending less time in the kitchen and more time with their families? Or, let's be real here - sleeping? Likely not.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I know it feels like cheating to buy a pumpkin pie rather than spend 3 hours making one. But really, everyone piles so much Cool Whip on top of the stuff that it's barely recognizable as a pumpkin pie anyway, right? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Save yourself some time and headache (and money, in some cases) by buying at least part of your holiday fair pre-made.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>BONUS HACK:</b> Make your Christmas dinner a potluck. Assign each guest a side and/or dessert, and guess what? There's plenty of food, and you've just saved yourself a ton of time and money.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit4bYPr18qFYt7mZX415d4b7OgrRUKkogciznSg9qW1GhSbU7q_OuVP3dbpBXw2krue3N_8a1zK62Y1osBThpVO7ITCH0r7_TBBiAKZGG_Txz-EHDbMhc9EB7Z9ngslcLQMll6/s1600/smart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="299" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit4bYPr18qFYt7mZX415d4b7OgrRUKkogciznSg9qW1GhSbU7q_OuVP3dbpBXw2krue3N_8a1zK62Y1osBThpVO7ITCH0r7_TBBiAKZGG_Txz-EHDbMhc9EB7Z9ngslcLQMll6/s400/smart.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I knew this guy would come in handy someday.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Lastly, <b>CUT YOURSELF SOME SLACK.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><br />
</b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Okay, fellow Mommas (and Daddys, of course) - listen to me. This is important.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This time of year is crazy hectic. You feel like you have a million things to do and no time to do it in. There are reasons that depression is at all time highs this time of year, and I can't even begin to list them all here.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Make some time for you. Go for a walk. Visit some friends. Read a book. Put the kids to bed a little early and take an extra long bubble bath. Sing Debbie Gibson songs at full volume into a hair brush while dancing around the living room, whatever. And don't feel bad about it. You can't be superparent and take care of everyone and everything else if you don't take care of yourself first.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Now, after you do that, if you still feel those little seeds of doubt creep in about money or presents or whatever, I want you to ask yourself a couple questions:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Are you present and accounted for in your kids' life? Yeah?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Have you ever heard your child say, "read me another story, PS4?" I hope not, that would be weird.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
YOU are the most important thing that your child needs, whether it's July or December. You're doing just fine, honey. You're doing just fine.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
- Sandra</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #351c75;">Happy Holidays! If you're looking for the most popular toys for 2018, I can't help you. But, if you're looking for a distraction from the holiday blues, you can <a href="https://www.facebook.com/realitychallenged" target="_blank">join me on Facebook</a>!</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #20124d;"><b>Pssst... A lot of people don't know this, but <strike>you can put your weed in there</strike> I write things besides snarky blog posts, and I also draw portraits. If you enjoy reading my blog and would like to check out some of my other stuff and/or show your support, come join me on Patreon:</b></span></div>
</div>
<span style="color: #20124d;"><b><a data-patreon-widget-type="become-patron-button" href="https://www.patreon.com/bePatron?u=3451764">Become a Patron!</a><script async="" src="https://c6.patreon.com/becomePatronButton.bundle.js"></script></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="color: #20124d;"><b>And <a href="https://www.wattpad.com/user/sgcreason" target="_blank">Wattpad</a></b></span></div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-55996452163517628912018-10-29T09:55:00.000-07:002018-10-29T09:55:02.543-07:00Sandra Reviews Stuff<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I recently found out that a lot of companies pay for product reviews. Like, they send you free stuff, you use it, say nice things about it to strangers online, keep the free stuff, <i>and </i>get paid.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
What the shit, internet?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And here I thought a girl had to post pictures of her skivvies online to make any money.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXOlzG8A8QYsL77ybfsje2ISZJydziMdx7716m4mQ86sPOCUSTj7aRhF9DjbTq9Cn0NNAlYxeY42_Yiegw8_chV-OKamokx-VUDoFxrQ9DOvSOfh-ugXvXoJ-FD4Bdkb2zvFP9/s1600/pDGC1-22189113v380.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="380" data-original-width="380" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXOlzG8A8QYsL77ybfsje2ISZJydziMdx7716m4mQ86sPOCUSTj7aRhF9DjbTq9Cn0NNAlYxeY42_Yiegw8_chV-OKamokx-VUDoFxrQ9DOvSOfh-ugXvXoJ-FD4Bdkb2zvFP9/s320/pDGC1-22189113v380.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Naughty, naughty... Cotton Stretch... Hipsters... That's how this works, right?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Nah, apparently my brief stint in silly Amazon reviews was preparing me for something greater. As a matter of fact, Amazon, by my calculations, you owe me a free <a href="https://www.blogger.com/%3Ca%20target=%22_blank%22%20href=%22https://www.amazon.com/tryprimefree?ref_=assoc_tag_ph_1427739975520&_encoding=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&linkCode=pf4&tag=sandracreason-20&linkId=1432765d19208c22437b353f84efbddd%22%3ETry%20Amazon%20Prime%2030-Day%20Free%20Trial%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22//ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=sandracreason-20&l=pf4&o=1%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;%22%20/%3E" target="_blank">Prime</a> membership and about 15 cases of <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B06XSW51BB/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=sandracreason-20&camp=1789&creative=9325&linkCode=as2&creativeASIN=B06XSW51BB&linkId=778f23bbc720c54c23784bc27c5f368e" target="_blank">Skin Food Peach Toner</a>. I'm just saying.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I use <a href="https://ibotta.com/r/jgntsub" target="_blank">Ibotta </a>- (Yes, that's a referral link. Yes, I'll be compensated if you sign up. I'm feeding 6 kids, don't judge me.) a nifty coupon app that gives me rebates on stuff I use already. I've done the BzzAgent thing (which for some reason is temporarily shut down so they can tweak the log in?). </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But now, it's time to expand my creativity and embark on a world of writing where I don't post to Facebook as "Only Me." </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIzyIdbTh8izXfHFqFJNTVZ4ZkQOARuvRuQ-1K2yfMGauHRZ1mWaCwc94_XWx6-rAudY5p7pehyCOM7tcmlx21saPDYh8wSFxFSeSt693WNVfKIAfhG17iLPe4v09s5YKjyuU/s1600/cape.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIzyIdbTh8izXfHFqFJNTVZ4ZkQOARuvRuQ-1K2yfMGauHRZ1mWaCwc94_XWx6-rAudY5p7pehyCOM7tcmlx21saPDYh8wSFxFSeSt693WNVfKIAfhG17iLPe4v09s5YKjyuU/s320/cape.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Googled "Woman in cape." Humans are a dirty, dirty species.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So I thought, what better way to get into the swing of things than to practice reviewing on the things I'm using right now? Right?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm currently <strike>chugging a Dr. Pepper and shoving a glazed donut in my piehole</strike> indulging in <strike>carbonated prune juice</strike> a <strike>bubblicious</strike> soft drink and a lightly glazed pastry as I write this. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsgnlyIowkw4H8ZOmc6tbWWcVUxHBuqxOpYMEIlezHyd2zUBQaTOWftSn-KftfWlcz95aWBr7Lr6dUeWNb4RsINh4wYARtyXLwzeBn9PEP-vVJ9WorApfLE6lB6V2aniftQlZX/s1600/junk-food-620435_960_720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="540" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsgnlyIowkw4H8ZOmc6tbWWcVUxHBuqxOpYMEIlezHyd2zUBQaTOWftSn-KftfWlcz95aWBr7Lr6dUeWNb4RsINh4wYARtyXLwzeBn9PEP-vVJ9WorApfLE6lB6V2aniftQlZX/s320/junk-food-620435_960_720.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Mom would be so proud. Also, you really CAN find anything on Google.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The Dr Pepper is satisfyingly bubbly, <strike>even though it reminds me quickly that I'm in my 30s by how quickly I have to make a mad dash to the ladie's room</strike> with a cleansing after effect. The donut comes from a local place, <strike>and has a slight tinge of old oil</strike>, but it has super cool ghost-shaped sprinkles on it, so it takes me back to adolescence a little.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This is hard.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's just a donut, and I now have a tiny orange ghosty sprinkle stuck in between my teeth. So yeah, I need to go take care of that. ...with my minty fresh Colgate toothpaste!</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSpHRVGGX5ak_e6-xMyJn601zmuUVEl2BpOmoUE81enGVY1L2Fi2KHsfTA8b_GDfdYF3UkdlBAk0Jb5-r-leIrjVYlpCrqWkp2Dd-29kdcNhHjeVMKitiG-1le36bV_aPGM1yl/s1600/35559cc7-f42c-48aa-a988-5ea310bb65b6_1.7f5cae10742be780e56dcf6f5f498d83.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSpHRVGGX5ak_e6-xMyJn601zmuUVEl2BpOmoUE81enGVY1L2Fi2KHsfTA8b_GDfdYF3UkdlBAk0Jb5-r-leIrjVYlpCrqWkp2Dd-29kdcNhHjeVMKitiG-1le36bV_aPGM1yl/s320/35559cc7-f42c-48aa-a988-5ea310bb65b6_1.7f5cae10742be780e56dcf6f5f498d83.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Total! Whitening! Slays dragon breath and totally doesn't taste like peppermints your Grandma has been carrying in the bottom of her purse since the Depression!</i></div>
<br />
<br />
.... I'm fired already.<br />
<br /></div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-7286861293028062582018-10-27T12:16:00.000-07:002018-10-27T12:16:48.386-07:00And This is How They all Became the Brady Bunch<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
A lot has happened since the last time I <strike>rambled</strike> posted on my blog, the most notable being that I started a relationship with an amazing guy who has the equivalent of half a basketball team worth of kiddos.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
For those of you not well versed in sports, a basketball team has 12 players. Half of that is 6. Six. He has six kids.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In addition to my two.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Now, his oldest is in college, and his second oldest lives with his mother, so that leaves us with his remaining four and my two.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This is beginning to sound like one of those awful word math problems where Susan buys 50 watermelons and 85 bundles of grapes, which wouldn't be far off from what you might see on one of our grocery receipts.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Six kids, aged 12 through 16. Teenagers. We have SIX teenagers in our household.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRwGJyRvPMtbDCu0NKqfiT2HcL4jJzSVj3jkYFUmmXuwh2vvsNcGvbtETcIuR2byDNfSklrbhp-BGMHQnua16-xQ9BApDo0NwL66NqvDii-T84v3jdkzDNDz-firP6HhHdf7j8/s1600/alice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="524" data-original-width="931" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRwGJyRvPMtbDCu0NKqfiT2HcL4jJzSVj3jkYFUmmXuwh2vvsNcGvbtETcIuR2byDNfSklrbhp-BGMHQnua16-xQ9BApDo0NwL66NqvDii-T84v3jdkzDNDz-firP6HhHdf7j8/s320/alice.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I'd like to say we had to let Alice go, but she ran screaming before we could explain that we just couldn't afford her any longer.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
You would think the biggest expense would be food (it totally is), but I never expected to spend so much on deodorant, mousse, and toilet paper. Oh my goodness, so much toilet paper.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_GMPqEsE4UmLaaf8XdjYnoQmBezpRuTYAjD4JFoaSccOdTwdi_TfWMzFDI4Lqt779ER3_C3fSvC0F4rIunPdHOgn4GUs67dss-CoNYNwSMug_i3FNDEBNCauYNAME7wQJ1wZ3/s1600/charmin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="562" data-original-width="1000" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_GMPqEsE4UmLaaf8XdjYnoQmBezpRuTYAjD4JFoaSccOdTwdi_TfWMzFDI4Lqt779ER3_C3fSvC0F4rIunPdHOgn4GUs67dss-CoNYNwSMug_i3FNDEBNCauYNAME7wQJ1wZ3/s320/charmin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Dear Charmin, if you're reading this, send help.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My house smells like gym socks, 6 different brands of heavily-applied perfumes and colognes, and pizza pockets. There's not enough Glade in the world to mask that, guys.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Thank goodness they're all good kids, because I really don't think my sanity would allow me to run a juvenile detention center. As long as the fridge and pantry are full and the Wi-Fi is up, it's all good. And speaking of Wi-Fi, who knew having control of the password would magically make chores done and grades stay respectable? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Anywho, we were trying to move from Oklahoma to Colorado over the last few months, but were waiting on the courts to make a decision since I have kids from a previous marriage, and that apparently means that my autonomy legally depends on my ex's whims until my youngest daughter's 18th birthday. Long story short, he opposed the move, drug out the proceedings, threatened to take custody of just my youngest daughter, and then managed to get the move blocked. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFhxVUS5qgrKP0M25h7Hlcz2uEzXOlR_lvhXI662HveXiRoYe-Y4xI9OpVWHWtQry2jIJEttDCHwnpNP9q8O5Gl6YhpnPUfU-55jO6XkV7-p-ygCnn-e4T3GSlKEy55VsDyrif/s1600/hugo1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="714" data-original-width="1048" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFhxVUS5qgrKP0M25h7Hlcz2uEzXOlR_lvhXI662HveXiRoYe-Y4xI9OpVWHWtQry2jIJEttDCHwnpNP9q8O5Gl6YhpnPUfU-55jO6XkV7-p-ygCnn-e4T3GSlKEy55VsDyrif/s320/hugo1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Because this is so much better than Colorado.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So, this is where we're at for the time being. I keep trying to tell myself that everything happens for a reason, but poverty in lieu of opportunity seems a bit like overkill. Still, it could be worse. I could be without a healthy sense of humor, but here we are. I could be dying of some yucky, incurable disease, yet I'm mostly only susceptible to random bouts of the sniffles. Our kids could all be toddlers, potty training and leaving everything in their wake destroyed and unidentifiably sticky. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I could still be married to my ex.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
*Shudder*</div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: blue;">Have an intolerable ex that you wish you could pretend didn't exist? Have so many kids that you're considering starting your own sports team? I can't help you! But, we can avoid reality together on my </span><span style="color: #20124d;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/realitychallenged/" target="_blank">Facebook page</a>.</span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-74323693791550298332017-03-15T00:22:00.000-07:002017-03-15T00:22:23.110-07:0010 Simple Ways to Survive a Horror Movie<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Does anyone remember Mystery Science Theater? It was basically this old show where a group of guys watched really bad movies and commented and captioned the movie as it was playing. So basically what all of us do with our friends when we're sitting at someone's house too drunk to actually go do anything and too bored to do anything else. It was fantastic.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And I really, really want to do this with horror movies, guys.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I talked about <a href="http://ctrcmain.blogspot.com/2015/09/paranormal-activity.html" target="_blank">my Mom's obsession with bad horror movies when I was growing up in another post</a>. These days, it's rare that I can find a horror movie that I can actually get into and not feel like I've just wasted at least an hour and a half of my life at the end of it. First of all, you can't be spooked by something that's just completely impossible. I'm not talking about the ghosts and ghoulies or whatever masked/burnt/robed/fanged creature we're supposed to be afraid of - I'm talking about the stereotypical characters and the dumb-shit choices they make throughout the course of the movies. All of them.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Clearly, the government is conspiring to dumb us down so we all die horrible deaths in the case of a Zombie Apocalypse, mutant insect/bird/mammal/shark invasion, deranged sexually frustrated undead serial killer rampage, or whatever the f*ck was going on with the trees in that one movie no one wants to admit that they actually watched.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8LaB1IAX0sR4I-4k4UNaBVqSb2V_F-AFO0Vbp6o-bQgV01iFXsLONikambIjj98jujkrt9SgnlXA-uiOWZ2KA8tnp-rc22An13gsT2D2DjEonQK_oFGr2sNsX4CtZrQkNszX8/s1600/happening.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8LaB1IAX0sR4I-4k4UNaBVqSb2V_F-AFO0Vbp6o-bQgV01iFXsLONikambIjj98jujkrt9SgnlXA-uiOWZ2KA8tnp-rc22An13gsT2D2DjEonQK_oFGr2sNsX4CtZrQkNszX8/s400/happening.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I have no idea what you're talking about.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
We all know the jokes about surviving a horror movie; "don't be the Token Black Guy," "don't be the Slutty Bimbo," "don't drink or do drugs unless you're the quirky stoner guy, because he always survives." Best to be the pretty, perky, smart, non-drinking, non-smoking, lily white virgin, otherwise your ass is never going to make it to the sequel(s).</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Dear reader, if you ever happen to find yourself at the center of a poorly written horror movie, I want you to forget all the above advice. I mean it. The answer to survival is simple: DON'T BE A DUMBASS.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
1. In the Case of a Zombie Apocalypse:</h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So you wake one morning to the sound of restless moaning and unsettling shuffling. As the fog lifts from your tired and possibly hungover brain, you realize that you're not hearing your disgusting roommate's morning tryst (or your parents, gross), but rather the beginnings of a Zombie invasion, brought on by some clumsy lab tech or big corporation conspiracy or some shit.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This is the moment all those hours of Call of Duty have been preparing you for. You're ready.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Ready for what, numbnuts? They're <i>zombies</i>. Reanimated dead bodies.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Check your windows and locks. Secure? Good. Now check the weather. Oh, it's above 80 degrees with high humidity? Ok, cool. Or cold and snowy with a wind chill factor of 4? Even better. Now what?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Grab a beer. Pop some popcorn. Find a good spot where you can see out a window and wait it out.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
What do you mean am I crazy? Do you not understand the dynamics of a zombie invasion? Sigh. Allow me to explain.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
A zombie - again, a reanimated dead body - has a few disadvantages compared to living, breathing, barricaded you:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
DECAY. That's right, that dead body that's lumbering around your porch sniffing at your door jam is rotting by the second. Even more quickly if the weather is hot and/or particularly humid. They'll be hosting all kinds of bacteria and flies and maggots, which will be helping the decay along. The soft tissues go first - skin, eyes, then the muscles and tendons. It won't be long before an attempt to pry open a door or break through a window would result in a pretty nasty skinning or detachment of a limb altogether. Superhuman strength won't do it any good if it's losing body parts every time it touches something. Pretty soon, that scary once human thing will be a steaming pile of bones and putrescence dripping between the slats on your porch. Oh yea, and the smell of putrid flesh will bring plenty of...</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
NATURAL PREDATORS. You might just get to see a dog run away happily with an arm or calf, or vultures peck furiously at all that tantalizing open flesh. A rotting body wouldn't last long stumbling about trying to find its own prey without being quite literally picked apart by animals, especially if the poor soul had the misfortune of being a zombie anywhere in the country. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
RIGOR MORTIS. Ah, yes. When a body dies and there is no longer any nerve impulse, muscle fibers contract, causing the entire body to stiffen. It's happens more quickly in extreme heat or cold, or if the body was under stress before death - like if someone was suffering from a deadly zombie virus or, I don't know, running from zombies. It may or may not last long depending on several circumstances, but I'd imagine it could disable long enough to be attacked by a predator, hit by a truck, fall off a tall thing, or be incinerated by a wood chipper.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAJiwMC3STvIku34YMwhIX_0lxr64hoijYDdqhMf9HXe-Y18gCUxrFfPRg1WPXt-eCH3_1OV9qMn3gFlfJeJRL09n0gpE9bs1kgoijwvlYc9ZVV1QQgtqIx1k4vaqTLrX58jQ9/s1600/woodchipper_480x270.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAJiwMC3STvIku34YMwhIX_0lxr64hoijYDdqhMf9HXe-Y18gCUxrFfPRg1WPXt-eCH3_1OV9qMn3gFlfJeJRL09n0gpE9bs1kgoijwvlYc9ZVV1QQgtqIx1k4vaqTLrX58jQ9/s400/woodchipper_480x270.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Because if Bobby taught us anything, it's that wood chipper beats all.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So you've got a few weeks, maybe a couple months, maybe even a couple beyond that to let the virus make its full rounds, so unless one manages to find its way in, you're golden. And if one does manage to find its way in - well, in true bad horror movie fashion, the damn things can't run. So when it comes in, run and grab your chainsaw or wood chipper or whatever, run back in, take it out, and chuck it out a window. Done.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Also, don't forget to re-secure wherever it came in at.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
2. Eek! A Vampire!</h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Wait... are we talking like, old school Dracula or that sparkling bastard child of Tinkerbell from Twilight? Like, 80's inter-city leather-clad biker rebel teens from The Lost Boys or the only role I didn't hate Tom Cruise in from Interview With the Vampire? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Well, if we've learned anything from Hollywood, the typical weapons against Vampires are garlic, crosses, holy water, and a good old stake through the heart. Legend also has it that a Vampire has to be invited in, so if you're bored or want to be a dick about it, just refuse to let them enter your home and then laugh at them as the stand at your door and hiss at you like a pissed off cat. Throw in a few "bleh, bleh, blehs" in there for extra measure. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But Sandra, <i>I didn't know they were a Vampire when I let them enter my home</i>. I really did want to learn how I could save money and cut my cleaning time in half!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Never fear, dear reader, the answer is simple. Always, always keep a jar of beetles in your home. Why, you ask? Because according to Hollywood, Vampires turn into bats, and bats eat beetles and other insects. So you whip out the jar of beetles, which will remind the Vampire that he hasn't eaten since that morning, and he will turn into a bat to devour your offering. While he's busy eating his lunch, you'll simply hang up a bunch of industrial-sized fly strips, and voila! Problem solved.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Of course, if Hollywood is wrong or the Vampire can't be distracted by beetles...</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_RuGY9jayI9CbRR-PtTKUI8epk56C1Q-7d1mFHWOwhBs7gyz9nHLoRUo5f8TaHpkdxldb6orrR4y5Wb8MGd2PW62ij-rD1LE71KDHoPoM8wgYGNCG0PeLHChsYAPSj7Ay2CK9/s1600/woodchipper_480x270.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_RuGY9jayI9CbRR-PtTKUI8epk56C1Q-7d1mFHWOwhBs7gyz9nHLoRUo5f8TaHpkdxldb6orrR4y5Wb8MGd2PW62ij-rD1LE71KDHoPoM8wgYGNCG0PeLHChsYAPSj7Ay2CK9/s400/woodchipper_480x270.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> Idjuts.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
3. Oh, Mummy!</h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Well, this one is obvious. When confronted by a mummy, simply locate the end of their wrapping and pull. Their wrappings will unravel, and they will be left embarrassingly naked and vulnerable. They'll be so busy trying to cover their ancient leathery naughty-bits that you can grab your trusty Dirt Devil and suck them right back into the nether-world where they belong.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
Also, guys, if there's anything under those wrappings, it's a centuries-old skeleton held together by nothing more than, like, herbs and crazy hoodoo. Whistle for a f*cking dog, geez.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<h3>
<br />4. Oops, You've Summoned a Demon Again.</h3>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
It can happen to the best of us.<br />
<br />
No. No, it can't. Because the key here, dear reader, is avoiding the situation altogether. Do you know Latin? They call it a dead language for a reason (rim shot). Sanscrit? No? Then for the love of God and all things unholy, DO NOT EVER, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, ATTEMPT TO READ THESE THINGS. Especially not out loud. Especially not in a barely-standing, abandoned mansion, cabin, or warehouse. Sweet Baby Jeebus people, the bimbo to your right and the fact that the book itself appears to be bound in human skin should have tipped you off. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX8R2rQqI3u_7abZXUnUj0bHJbabsQFFRwr4lXeStSd_fjI8Z7euarNmgb5I5s9h2aPaZJiZHhMiLRKIqebYcyXvxAxusWJTP62Zn9mT2WV-REeofjW9yIeORUU9yKahFgkJ30/s1600/evil+dead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX8R2rQqI3u_7abZXUnUj0bHJbabsQFFRwr4lXeStSd_fjI8Z7euarNmgb5I5s9h2aPaZJiZHhMiLRKIqebYcyXvxAxusWJTP62Zn9mT2WV-REeofjW9yIeORUU9yKahFgkJ30/s320/evil+dead.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Why the f*ck would you even pick that up? What the hell is wrong with you? Did Ash and his boom stick teach you nothing?</i></div>
<br />
<br />
Also, just as an added precaution, don't buy any pretty knick-knacks or vaguely symbolic-looking jewelry from shifty-eyed street vendors, don't accept any gifts from anyone with a deep Cajun accent (because we're going from what we've learned from Hollywood, right), and for God's sake, how hard is it to be nice to Gypsies?<br />
<br />
<h3>
5. It's a Bird... It's a Plane... No, It's a... Sharknado?</h3>
<br />
What. The. Ever-loving - you know what? Fire your writers. If you're that hard up for an acting job, you deserve whatever you get. I'm looking at you, Tara Reid.<br />
<br />
And if, for some crazy reason you ever do see a shark spinning around in a tornado in your real life, for goodness' sake get to a shelter or hunker in your bathroom, because that shark is the least of your worries. That poor guy was just swimming along minding his own business - maybe hunting a seal or flirting with a cute girl shark - suddenly got swept up into Mother Nature's fury, and now probably feels about like you did that one time that asshole kid spun you too fast on the merry-go-round and you spent 20 minutes urping up everything you'd eaten the entire week before that. He ain't worried about you, is all I'm saying.<br />
<br />
Move along.<br />
<br />
<h3>
6. Those Pesky Portals to Hell</h3>
<br />
Ugh. If I had a dime for every time - yea - no, I'd still be broke. How many times do you crazy kids have to inadvertently unleash the contents of Hell on the world before you figure out that Hasbro is not your friend and Ouija boards are better left in novelty stores and far, far away from your coffee table? Or attic. Or wedged deep inside the walls of your home. How the hell did it get wedged into the wall of your home? Who the hell knows, that's why you shouldn't buy the damned things to begin with.<br />
<br />
But if your sense of adventure got the best of you and you've suddenly found yourself in some other-worldly Grand Central Station, I'm pretty sure that Google is your only friend at this point. There are millions of websites dedicated to this type of thing. I mean, you probably should have Googled "how to use a Ouija Board properly so I don't doom myself to horrifying death and dismemberment by demon" or some shit BEFORE you used the Ouija board, but you know, hindsight and all.<br />
<br />
...and if Google has no viable answers, well, it was nice knowing you, friend. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJMBQtjvyK-2QkeIs3F_R_HHqx-Bgr_dA5qDKpqpDpJWDm9wSlibGBiQ-xishu5Ilftp3rFGLrpqXGskrTpPyQaKaCt-ToH7CR59AdOnl6jfyp8bn3vA3PiHP1iE6z0OOOHTQf/s1600/jumanji.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJMBQtjvyK-2QkeIs3F_R_HHqx-Bgr_dA5qDKpqpDpJWDm9wSlibGBiQ-xishu5Ilftp3rFGLrpqXGskrTpPyQaKaCt-ToH7CR59AdOnl6jfyp8bn3vA3PiHP1iE6z0OOOHTQf/s400/jumanji.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Or maybe, like, roll a 5 or an 8. Can't make things any worse.</i></div>
<h3>
<br />7. Does This Clown Taste Funny to Y- OH GOD!</h3>
<br />
Obviously, the kids in IT epically failed their Riddikulus Spells, because clowns are f*cking horrifying.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNPwmoj-_TdFnWIaAuhT9Zn-kc08mUbs-OlqdrAbv8ju7vpFBBj9BTceIBetYLwKliHFTYHsvNmd_RQwXeYDRZa78mC2qNS5kmxObmSFdtbx8QI160LuA7G_9wcUZ-qsKKhDhX/s1600/Stephen-King-It.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNPwmoj-_TdFnWIaAuhT9Zn-kc08mUbs-OlqdrAbv8ju7vpFBBj9BTceIBetYLwKliHFTYHsvNmd_RQwXeYDRZa78mC2qNS5kmxObmSFdtbx8QI160LuA7G_9wcUZ-qsKKhDhX/s400/Stephen-King-It.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Especially when played by Dr. Frank-N-Furter.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But this was no ordinary not-so-subtle indicator that your mother hated you because she hired a clown for your birthday instead of a cowboy, otherwise you could just tie his comically large shoes together, boop his big red nose, and spray him in the eye with his own trick flower while you made your getaway. No, this guy is quite literally nightmare fuel. Or rather, nightmare-<i>fueled</i>. This psychotic mother could actually turn into his victims' absolute worst fears and torture them mercilessly in deeply psychological ways until he drove them to their own self-destruction. He's the f*cking Hannibal Lecter of circus entertainment gone awry.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Now, I'm a big Stephen King fan, but it's excrutiatingly clear that this is a man you never want to cross. He can kill you 3 billion ways with super-insane and suspiciously plausible detail, and make the reader/watcher root for the villain during the course of your demise. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
That's the only answer I have for you if you ever find yourself in the plot of a King story - don't be the asshole. Or a side character. Be the quirky underdog with some weird talent that only shows its merit at the most crucial time in the story. The rest will manage to work itself out with awesome plot twists you never could have thought up on your own. You just can't out-King King.</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<h3>
8. Reanimated Serial Killers:</h3>
<br />
Not to be confused with zombies, these are the bad guys that someone failed to verify were actually <i>dead</i>. No double tap, no wood chipper, no fiery inferno that burned all the way into ash under the watchful eye of someone actually paying attention, just some stoner intern that looked at a limp body and said, "eh, close enough."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfn4wHShDQkVBoyFnKnxPGyOtMdjw7B8Z__jKGjchaZ9mioWJUi8QPXqb9vUDerHqajcRnjfy7xN9zLcy7KU9V1Vsh2k1bt4a1IC-zTRwzr7mSdO5S7JgndBuyzU5yMXa6_a7l/s1600/mm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfn4wHShDQkVBoyFnKnxPGyOtMdjw7B8Z__jKGjchaZ9mioWJUi8QPXqb9vUDerHqajcRnjfy7xN9zLcy7KU9V1Vsh2k1bt4a1IC-zTRwzr7mSdO5S7JgndBuyzU5yMXa6_a7l/s400/mm.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You had one f*cking job.</i></div>
<br />
RUN. That's it. Fire doesn't kill this fucker. Drowning doesn't work. Weird horror movie crossover deep-space face-offs just result in even weirder and more confusing sequels. But for some reason, this horrifying, indestructible being can't move his feet faster than an arthritic elderly man taking a brisk walk, and yet has a higher body count than logically possible. So take off your heels, frantic blonde lady who is inevitably wearing half a button-up shirt covering a cup size that is probably higher than your scripted IQ and stilettos, focus your attention in front of you, and make like there's a Pumpkin Spice latte waiting for you at the finish line.<br />
<br />
Non-fat, sugar free, half-caff, of course. Duh.<br />
<h3>
<br />9. Possessed Dolls </h3>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Okay, I loved the <i>Child's Play</i> movies when I was a kid, but let's be real here - this is probably the stupidist scenerio ever if you're looking for something scary.<br />
<br />
But Sandra - yes, I know, dolls are creepy, with their waxy skin and dead eyes and propensity to whisper sweet voodoo spells into your ear as you drift off to sleep. But come on - </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7i-KgiximAPUV4hSmYh-iz5GmVnnUG4dshjOeK9EVdfyWCgcUEYFpEAx_PABdKKBsdlrZJuZbP9E9SAbM3Gbjf7OihliY28PW5wYJZZcuWgIhJ_RUh-VPEJDQtjmd_iz2AC7/s1600/chucky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7i-KgiximAPUV4hSmYh-iz5GmVnnUG4dshjOeK9EVdfyWCgcUEYFpEAx_PABdKKBsdlrZJuZbP9E9SAbM3Gbjf7OihliY28PW5wYJZZcuWgIhJ_RUh-VPEJDQtjmd_iz2AC7/s320/chucky.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>There's at least one toddler exactly like this at every daycare center across America.</i></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
My two year old niece would rip this dude a new one over a cookie. He's maybe two feet tall. Sure, he houses the soul of a serial killer, but have you ever given a 3 year old the wrong color sippy cup? Refused them entry into the bathroom to watch you poop? Taken away a permanent marker with the lid off, or turned off Paw Patrol before they got their fix?<br />
<br />
Call a mom. We got this.<br />
<br />
<h3>
10. The Dream Killer</h3>
Ah, the guy who gave even the kids who didn't live on Elm Street in the 80's and 90's nightmares.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWc7FU0LzdoOf1sSow7axHleT1t5M0HENQxhPAg5_bd3-DU7SKkBCzOc2yktx2ytt6QsdeswjEkUhEOGu-C1VfApQaJPGGKFq9cJH7MsI0UayArKkN1Xu7ihWrrxwXfW-0oswu/s1600/nightmare.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWc7FU0LzdoOf1sSow7axHleT1t5M0HENQxhPAg5_bd3-DU7SKkBCzOc2yktx2ytt6QsdeswjEkUhEOGu-C1VfApQaJPGGKFq9cJH7MsI0UayArKkN1Xu7ihWrrxwXfW-0oswu/s320/nightmare.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Featuring, "Oh hey, isn't that Johnny Depp?"</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
This guy. This was the one who invaded dreams and lured hormonal teens with their deepest wishes and then gutted them with their worst nightmares.<br />
<br />
I have bad news, guys. This is adulthood. Freddy Krueger, the dream-killing psychopath whose history never fully came out until later, lesser quality sequels demanded some kind of filler to provide the appearance of depth, is nothing more than the embodiment of transitioning from care-free, angsty teenager-hood to soul-crushing dream-withering adulthood. Look at him smirking with his Walkman. He already knows. There is no escape. We're all doomed.<br />
<br />
Quick, somebody call Stephen King.<br />
<br /></div>
<ul>
</ul>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-63085553472734360942017-03-14T23:08:00.000-07:002017-03-14T23:08:53.990-07:00Well, That Escalated Quickly<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Believe it or not, I've actually been writing a lot lately. A lot.<br />
<br />
I haven't posted anything consistent in a while, because I've also been drowning in feels for some ungodly reason.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhngocqn81qg4K9gkSQhzbMizo5N_IUUUNCcA4fAtInpn_ceEIbiD8cZ0L4rFOztSbAYsEqhA6sADaQXo3qMq47SMRe_lJ5GFg74ixoRa1-KROWJ02OcTSYaNHP_quhZv6W1Ej/s1600/awkward3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhngocqn81qg4K9gkSQhzbMizo5N_IUUUNCcA4fAtInpn_ceEIbiD8cZ0L4rFOztSbAYsEqhA6sADaQXo3qMq47SMRe_lJ5GFg74ixoRa1-KROWJ02OcTSYaNHP_quhZv6W1Ej/s320/awkward3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I think that burrito I ate last - wait, nope. What - shit, that's an emotion.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I go through these weird cycles where I contemplate life on every level imaginable. Like, in a past life I must have been a philosopher or spoiled socialite or something, because I find myself miserably, deeply unsatisfied with the day to day grind of work, sleep, repeat.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And I know - aren't we all?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But guys, I'm really, really starting to think something's wrong with me. I once went on a tangent where I bought every foreign language dictionary I could find because I was pissed that I couldn't effectively communicate with every. single. person. I met. And I don't even like people. <br />
<br />
But, now I can say "hello, how are you" "where is the bathroom," and "there's a pen on the f*cking table, professor" in seven different languages. That's about as far as I got, because trying to teach one's self six different languages all at the same time causes some hilariously strange linguistic cross-overs. I'm pretty sure that I stumbled into some Klingon somewhere in there, but I have no idea if my syntax is correct because I don't know anyone who speaks Klingon that I can converse with in the language. Fml.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Or should I say, joder mi vida, vaffanculo, vie de merde - eh, you get the point.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFxSaJgxypYmHWt2UmbrjOUweuJY2JKaGi9x5gOooHlvd14Qpir8VyMjFMFwh7cWaHpuVkbDRevPNmDKK43GBjjFy4dt1XzMT7GCiN9MeG4_qLQcLX52wHZ-K9SAYgUopEooWZ/s1600/FML+in+sign+language.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFxSaJgxypYmHWt2UmbrjOUweuJY2JKaGi9x5gOooHlvd14Qpir8VyMjFMFwh7cWaHpuVkbDRevPNmDKK43GBjjFy4dt1XzMT7GCiN9MeG4_qLQcLX52wHZ-K9SAYgUopEooWZ/s320/FML+in+sign+language.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Oh Google image search, you just get me.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
... and nothing says "first World problems" like a rambling white girl with enough spare time to try to teach herself six new languages just because she got bored. This isn't an "I'm so smart I'm bored with my life" post, I swear. It's more an "I'm not adult enough to adult" post. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I mean, really. The language thing is kind of a metaphor for my whole life. It's like the kid who's so excited to get a puppy, but then they get a puppy, and within a couple weeks they're tired of the responsibility of feeding, walking, and poop-scooping, so the poor dog just sits in the yard looking forlorn until one of the <i>actual</i> grown-ups takes up the slack. Only instead of just getting one puppy, I tried to adopt six. <i>Six f*cking puppies</i>, guys. That's a lot of poop. I balk at loading the dishwasher - I don't have enough time to clean up that much poop. AND I'M THE GROWN-UP. No one's going to swoop in and out-adult me here.<br />
<br />
I think one of the suckiest things about being an adult is that, face to face, in the real world, everyone's so afraid of offending people that they refuse to disagree. Sure, on the internet, everyone's ready to argue just for the sake of arguing, but how often do you see an actual, intelligent debate that actually touches on important points and isn't laced with profanities and wind up sounding like a bunch of toddlers arguing over the best flavor of ice cream?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnDFVhUQzwJdA4s7763NGImuO8AawCnu0B2fuYHbvxpfguTUa1cnkKj3DPhQu6UhsdZ1atXB5soye7-R6q7aucAV9b9fdvxiqqW50mCkNhSxdEW1fxi-DQqYMMSWHWygixrU-P/s1600/minions.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnDFVhUQzwJdA4s7763NGImuO8AawCnu0B2fuYHbvxpfguTUa1cnkKj3DPhQu6UhsdZ1atXB5soye7-R6q7aucAV9b9fdvxiqqW50mCkNhSxdEW1fxi-DQqYMMSWHWygixrU-P/s320/minions.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Yes, this absolutely DOES make sense.</i></div>
<br />
No, in real life, people avoid topics that they know will bring conflicting viewpoints to surface, unless they are surrounded by people they know already agree with them. Others just try to placate the person whose view opposes theirs to avoid conflict. Still others just pick whichever side is popular at that particular moment and fake it into the fucking ground.<br />
<br />
I can't be the only person who craves intelligent conversation and debate. For cripes sake, I already <i>know</i> what <i>I</i> think, give me another view to look at. Give me something that makes me think outside the box and question the assumptions I already have. I'm suffocating here, dammit, TEACH ME SOMETHING. Don't fucking humor me, put on your big person pants and be honest, or take your wishy-washy fake ass elsewhere, I'm too gaddam old to be babysitting toddlers masquerading as adults.<br />
<br />
You know what else sucks about adulting? Maturity. Or rather, the expectation of it. Why the f*ck can't I giggle when someone says "duty" without people looking at me like I'm a complete idiot? You know you want to laugh, don't be all judgey just because I don't give a shit enough about what people think to worry about which way their opinion of me is going to slide if I crack up every time one of my kids tell me that stupid knock-knock joke about the interrupting cow. Screw you, that sh*t's funny.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6rLhDD-8cAtnn1SAP7nfUICsNk-XZ3JkXrrnx0rHVjBIomG-Z1nrtCCoQgsdCnqjAjFr3YZoo9M_zi_ZboJq9BDEIXdwvPXcXZM2E2MD65Yx5yLjm2b0y6suMvfQNlGhUXUg5/s1600/Funny-Cow-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6rLhDD-8cAtnn1SAP7nfUICsNk-XZ3JkXrrnx0rHVjBIomG-Z1nrtCCoQgsdCnqjAjFr3YZoo9M_zi_ZboJq9BDEIXdwvPXcXZM2E2MD65Yx5yLjm2b0y6suMvfQNlGhUXUg5/s1600/Funny-Cow-10.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Re-moooo-ve the stick from your rear end. MOO.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Guys, why is it that none of us seem to think we're accomplishing anything in life unless we can physically feel our souls being crushed? Work. Relationships. Trying to live up to other peoples' expectations. What the fuck? And this stupid idea that our real selves somehow aren't good enough for the world. Fuck the world. We are who we are for a reason. Who the hell thought it was a good idea to let society dictate "normal?" This is the same society that thought the Earth was flat and that it was a perfectly sound method of proof to toss suspected witches into fire and water to see if they'd survive. Witches. Society thought witches made weather destroy their crops and stole the sun when we had an eclipse. Christ on a cracker, it's not rocket science, people. Society be dumb.<br />
<br />
If society were a person, it would be the lobotomized guy shoved away at the back of the mental hospital that's been in a coma for the last 20 years but still manages to occasionally sit up and yell random words into thin air while he hurls his own feces at the wall.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-J0NM3-YGzDWtE_JyuuVVfwmXoBgI7ZTJcdOW-HowSXOF7jvPNNQ6M3tGd5ZaUTlNTP1aCpKTxnFoDpuLZJf3A4qkPwOUcEBOaxboYa08Q6MKmSKrG1TLmx7OmUf5JY-E0gw2/s1600/trump.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-J0NM3-YGzDWtE_JyuuVVfwmXoBgI7ZTJcdOW-HowSXOF7jvPNNQ6M3tGd5ZaUTlNTP1aCpKTxnFoDpuLZJf3A4qkPwOUcEBOaxboYa08Q6MKmSKrG1TLmx7OmUf5JY-E0gw2/s320/trump.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Which explains the shit out of this.</i></div>
<br />
<br />
So this post has been sitting in my drafts for months, and now as I write, <strike>my Mom's sitting in a hospital battling Lymphoma and a severe case of everybody-suddenly-cares-when-shit-happens.</strike><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Edit: my Mom passed away in August. That's how long this post has been sitting in my drafts and how long I've been holding this shit in, but I'm going to publish this mostly as-is because it needs to be said.</b><br />
<br />
And I'm going to get a little bit personal, because it's relevant to my whole rant. My mom had a hard fucking life. To the point of basically having to cut everyone off and live like a hermit in a house that's barely standing but was irresistible to her because it happened to be exactly just too far out of the way for anyone to bother to go see her. Not that anyone but me would have, anyway. Because see, my Mom was one of those people who spent her whole life being worried about whether people liked her or not, and got shit on as a result. I love my Mom. But I thank my lucky stars every day that I didn't inherit her inability to feel exactly zero guilt at telling someone to fuck off when they're intentionally skipping all over boundaries and being a total pain in the ass. And, in case you couldn't tell, I'm a little bitter about the fact that everyone wanted to run to her side when she got sick, but were nowhere to be found all the years that she was building up to this shitstorm.<br />
<br />
But yes, tell me all about your fond 5 minutes you spent talking to her while she was checking you out at Walmart, and how much you miss her at a family function she never went to anyway. Tell me how much <i>you're</i> hurting, while I'm single-handedly taking care of all her personal affairs and making all the arrangements, going through her personal belongings and trying to make sense of the fact that, within the time-span of just a couple weeks, I went from making plans with my Mother for when she got better, to holding her hands and looking into her eyes literally as she took her last breath. Cry on my shoulder while my sister and I are cooking for 50 people to eat, leave a mess, and leave. Go ahead, I'll wait. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://i2.wp.com/forevertwentysomethings.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/Sarcasm_tbbt.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="197" src="https://i2.wp.com/forevertwentysomethings.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/Sarcasm_tbbt.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Because nothing aids the grieving process like abstaining from throat-punching people exactly every second of every day.</i></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<br />
And you know, I'm going to go even further in left field and point out that no one on this damn planet seems to have any kind of selflessness or loyalty anymore. What happened to investing in people? Like, the average human spends roughly 80 years on this planet, if they're lucky enough to make it to old age. In all those years, how many relationships do you suppose those people have that are genuine? Ones that lasted decades and didn't hinge on obligation or convenience? How close do we really even get to people anymore? I guess it's not really that far into left field, after all. We don't forge real relationships because we're scared to death someone will see the real us and run screaming for the hills, telling everyone in the path along the way what a horrible, hideous, <i>human</i> we are along the way.<br />
<br />
This all escalated quickly and now I'm sure anyone who's gotten this far thinks I'm some kind of psychopath, but the point is - FUCK ALL THAT.<br />
<br />
Fuck worrying about what people think. Fuck thinking that the only way to coexist peacefully with others is to stuff yourself into the same mold they wear or hide away completely. Fuck treating people like commodities, or letting other people treat you that way. Life's too short for that shit. Live your life, love people, be freaking weird, take risks.<br />
<br />
Also, avoid trying to learn more than one foreign language at a time. Unless you really want to, I guess. Then, conquer that shit. I believe in you. You can --</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6-mOZ_2X8Hz2IxOf72gjRJJ8Xz38OE2BquFKGTgGqWstWDWzNqAnUx1n95wrw_rIafX-e3v_9gZREVkwmymXW6yHrATP5xTdV9UWC5lndStZahV4SiAIdzTyqn-OlVOuPtxZ9/s1600/Funny-Cow-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6-mOZ_2X8Hz2IxOf72gjRJJ8Xz38OE2BquFKGTgGqWstWDWzNqAnUx1n95wrw_rIafX-e3v_9gZREVkwmymXW6yHrATP5xTdV9UWC5lndStZahV4SiAIdzTyqn-OlVOuPtxZ9/s1600/Funny-Cow-10.jpg" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>MOOO!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
Dammit.</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i></div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-88194301098521259682016-06-29T10:06:00.000-07:002016-06-29T10:06:47.798-07:00Arachnaphobia and Other Southern Pestulence<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">GUYS.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I'm not really afraid of spiders. I
think they're cool little dudes and I'm totally fine with peacefully coexisting
with them so long as they respect boundaries and keep their creepy crawly
little asses outside. Or well-hidden deep in the crevices of my home,
even, so long as they're earning their keep by eating the more obnoxious insects
and not looking at anyone in my household like sample platters or all you can
eat buffets.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">And guys, I'm actually pretty proud of
myself, as a transplant to the South from Colorado, where the winters were cold
enough to kill of most Hell spawn that sported more than 4 legs and generally
the only time you encountered a creepy crawly was when you were in an area you
probably weren't supposed to be in anyway. Even then, I think I only know
of once that my Mom encountered a black widow (digging in the garden), and
anything else you encountered in the wild typically wasn't designed to rot you
from the inside out with its bite or sting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I legit never knew so many creepy crawly things
existed until we moved to Oklahoma. What the hell is a tick, and why are
you strip-searching your children with a magnifying glass like the most
over-zealous TSA agent ever? What do you mean you're rubbing used chewing
tobacco on your calves because it helps with the chiggers? I don't know
what<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>chiggers are, but that
doesn't sound like a very nice word and I'm not really comfortable with you
using it in my presence. WHAT THE F*CK DO YOU MEAN THAT WAS A MOSQUITO??
YOU LIE! THAT WAS CLEARLY A PTERODACTYL AND F*CK YOU FOR LAUGHING AT ME
WHEN I WENT FULL SPAZ-NINJA JUST NOW.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFRsPZ4St1IAbJVcHhxTdkVU2aJkjnK6wWKNf5VJVUX3RE0fJVl7bz-zfn_CfXNZlVE2MI80BhrFHyMozUl21RxroyBkO6sHd4g9lFhzU31EbYx83P2bZqaActloaaIU6maPKm/s1600/pterodactyl_ghost_2004_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFRsPZ4St1IAbJVcHhxTdkVU2aJkjnK6wWKNf5VJVUX3RE0fJVl7bz-zfn_CfXNZlVE2MI80BhrFHyMozUl21RxroyBkO6sHd4g9lFhzU31EbYx83P2bZqaActloaaIU6maPKm/s400/pterodactyl_ghost_2004_01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Seems about right.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Everything's bigger in Texas? BIGGER? Oklahoma’s like where
God keeps his shrinky-dinks. Nothing is
normal here. Everything’s huge, fanged,
venomed, and mutated in the most accidentally-dunked-in-radioactive-waste ways
imaginable, and the heat only seems to make it worse. BIGGER?
F*ck Texas then. Texas and Australia can keep their awesome
accents and beautiful landscapes and everything in them designed lull you into
awe and then brutally kill you. I'm just going to chill here in Oklahoma with
my flame torch and<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>not</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>have my broken and battered remains
dry-humped by something that Satan himself would be startled by, thank you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Anyway, it did take me a while to get used
to all the bugs. Seriously. So. Many. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">For some back story - years ago, not long
after we moved here, my dad came across what he thought at first was a small
tarantula. No big deal, right - he was just going to scoop it up and
escort it outside. But then he got closer to it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">What he described in order to get my mom's
and my attention sounded like something out of a pretty awful horror movie.
The spider looked super fuzzy - and was breathing. Pulsating.
Like, its entire body was moving, but not in any kind of sync, just kind
of... rolling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Now, anyone who lives in the South or has
any real experience with spiders already knows where I'm going with this.
See, certain species of spiders carry their babies on their backs, like
the most horrifying carry-on luggage you can imagine. Hundreds of teeny,
tiny, wriggling baby spiders hitching a ride on mommy because f*ck your sanity
and ability to not have to cry yourself to sleep, that's why. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcIYR00MRkrXA-KnVfc8h83u5M-JeyQKlqB6cAUGdMRo5l1Nup59c44MZWyyrtdqrMeBfp0KVt7GfaAWHUMqn_IZj6F4aAPKem4PvMGnNLjW5r_khpqeozkK7YQEm0RSg8lDIb/s1600/spider+babies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcIYR00MRkrXA-KnVfc8h83u5M-JeyQKlqB6cAUGdMRo5l1Nup59c44MZWyyrtdqrMeBfp0KVt7GfaAWHUMqn_IZj6F4aAPKem4PvMGnNLjW5r_khpqeozkK7YQEm0RSg8lDIb/s400/spider+babies.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><i>Sweet dreams.</i></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">And you can laugh, because we were silly
city folk, and didn't know that the writhing nightmare before us was a totally normal
occurrence in nature (!). So my dad,
being the logical, level-headed person that he was, did the only rational thing
he could think of in the split second before you think your entire family is
about to be devoured by a creature that’s terrifying and makes no sense and has
no business being in this realm – he jumped, with both feet and his entire
weight, right on top of this thing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">My Dad, for anyone new here, was about 6
foot 7 and a good 250 plus pounds. The walls
shook. There was an audible “boom” as
the floor bared the sudden, harsh impact of his weight. The house itself moaned in protest as I’m
sure the foundation was shifted, if even just a little bit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">And the spider…. F*cking exploded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Worst.
Pinata. Ever. It was like one of those horror movies where
you think they got the bad guy, only instead of going up in flames he suddenly
turns into thousands upon thousands of tiny bad guys, coming at you from every
angle imaginable. There were teeny tiny spiders scrambling for their lives in
all directions, and all my Mom and I could do was stare on in horror, as surely
this was the beginning of the Apocalypse and we were powerless to stop it.</span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggp6lPAIMlDfjw9VzPfTYrvBGeOdpSuSnzLf5s0Y4EChptCeH1YxMr-kItTULVlAXw0jmlagqnNi71N-cu83DxDDieJapknFNRtZ6s-w7W-BGXHHCHw2Zf8ifxv35DcnLoItyq/s1600/spider_men_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggp6lPAIMlDfjw9VzPfTYrvBGeOdpSuSnzLf5s0Y4EChptCeH1YxMr-kItTULVlAXw0jmlagqnNi71N-cu83DxDDieJapknFNRtZ6s-w7W-BGXHHCHw2Zf8ifxv35DcnLoItyq/s400/spider_men_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>This is it. This is how the world ends. Not with a bang, but with a <a href="http://www.guinnessworldrecords.com/news/2015/8/video-record-breaking-gathering-of-people-dressed-as-spider-man-assembles-in-syd-392690" target="_blank">nerdgasm</a>.</i></div>
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">And my Dad, still not fully understanding
what the hell had just happened, began doing the most insane Mexican Hat Dance
I’ve ever seen in my life. Or, more accurately, like <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JUjYORJ4xj4" target="_blank">Riverdance</a>
performed by Andre the Giant on LSD and blindfolded, with someone steadily
shooting bottle rockets at his ass as he screams random, frantic expletives. It was both magnificent and deeply terrifying
and, I’m sure, pretty embarrassing for my Dad once we figured out that the
erupting Hell beast was nothing more than a momma spider carrying her babies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Poor b*tch probably just thought she was
taking a happy stroll with her little ones to the park or something. She never saw it coming.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">So this morning, when I encountered a
similar pulsing nightmare in my kitchen, I knew better than to try to
Hulk-smash it with the shoe I’d just retrieved from the living room. No, this would require strategy. This would require stealth and focus, and a
little bit of luck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Raid, guys. It’s creepy crawly genocide in a can. 5/5 stars.
It seems to work best if you squeal like a little girl while spraying it
in nonsensical sweeps toward the general vicinity of the spider-volcano. Crying and whimpering may or may not help,
but a sudden, shrill warrior cry is much more empowering. Would definitely recommend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieKDTybEhul22HqCcaA8IM6hoEr3GVuv4maCLW7es852wQIuREs_FH6QsWumEqEl623W-aZDVaSlNgTGql0YC7NP0NeeNZDoaYnhIPl514khCmGkdj21_iTsrTN5X6mp_36ZCu/s1600/rambo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieKDTybEhul22HqCcaA8IM6hoEr3GVuv4maCLW7es852wQIuREs_FH6QsWumEqEl623W-aZDVaSlNgTGql0YC7NP0NeeNZDoaYnhIPl514khCmGkdj21_iTsrTN5X6mp_36ZCu/s400/rambo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">But the point of this post is that, after
my victory and the subsequent sweep and mop so that my kitchen floor no longer
looked like the sad and squishy aftermath of a really low-budget Scy-Fy movie,
I got a little squirmy and started Googling natural ways to repel spiders. And as I was looking through all the pictures
of spiders and the recommendations for citrus and peppermint (because spiders
don’t suffer from scurvy and hate Christmas, obviously), I’m thinking about how
silly I feel for being squirmy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I’m the human. I just annihilated an entire family of spiders
with a pump of my finger, like freaking Don Corleone. Sure, I lost my shit a little, but I left no
witnesses. I’m the master of my domain,
the queen of this castle. I’m at the top
of the food chain, dammit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">And then a fly landed on my hand and I
almost pissed my pants.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Perspective, guys. We may be hundreds of times bigger than they are, but they still manage to illicit a certain, um, respect, if you will, because we know on some primal level that the little bastards could easily take us down with a few well-placed nibbles on our puny human flesh. It's a bug's world, and we're just living in it.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxCSfM5LS2tO1dCiYq1hHaEbpj3wBkFGLHHuum3LT4KKhp22nZnD9Ig9BUYlXPi1iwVsXrD45HaztfYlhANlZWOSVZOleb3ltt1E37AnQ7MD7FY8He-d898BX4IDRXFlchW8mN/s1600/bugslife.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxCSfM5LS2tO1dCiYq1hHaEbpj3wBkFGLHHuum3LT4KKhp22nZnD9Ig9BUYlXPi1iwVsXrD45HaztfYlhANlZWOSVZOleb3ltt1E37AnQ7MD7FY8He-d898BX4IDRXFlchW8mN/s320/bugslife.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><i>Dammit, Disney.</i></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
</div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-46541366138079628522016-06-03T21:35:00.001-07:002016-06-03T21:42:35.538-07:00Catcalls, Compliments, and Outright Hypocrisy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So I've been seeing a lot of conversations about gender roles lately, specifically the <a href="mailto:https://mic.com/articles/143478/one-tweet-perfectly-sums-up-why-catcalls-aren-t-just-compliments#.zcl4ztlRC" target="_blank">objectification of women and how catcalls are absolutely not compliments</a>.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
As a woman, specifically as one who has dealt with her fair share of harassment, awkward flirting, and compliments, I kind of feel like someone needs to step in somewhere and throw some actual logic in.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Learn to take a compliment!"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Shut your face-hole, you slobbering, chauvinistic caveman!"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"I can clearly see your lady curves, so you obviously wanted attention!"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Your attention was uninvited, as was your commentary!"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Men, women, sit down. Shut the f*ck up. You're both wrong.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Before you get offended and report this page, allow me to explain.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Ladies, raise your hand if you spend an extra couple of minutes in front of a mirror before you leave the house to make sure that your appearance is at least slightly less than horrifying.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://media.giphy.com/media/luUmmUxZWfOXC/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="153" src="https://media.giphy.com/media/luUmmUxZWfOXC/giphy.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Now feel extra silly because you're sitting in front of a computer in a room by yourself.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Okay, now answer me this: what are your personal criteria, for yourself, of what is and is not acceptable for your physical appearance to be seen by anyone who lives outside of your household? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Next question - why?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h4 style="text-align: justify;">
Objectification and Beauty Standards</h4>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Alright, so I know that not every woman feels that she needs to put on makeup or do anything special with her hair before leaving her house, and there are plenty of women out there who are totally content wearing sweats and hoodies without worrying about what anyone thinks about it. There's not a damned thing wrong with that, either.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But, for the majority of women, there are at least a few rituals that we hold on to just as tight as tooth brushing and showering. We pluck, shave, tweeze, style, moisturize, exfoliate, and contour our way into feeling human in the mornings. While we can all stand here until we're blue in the face and swear that we only do those things for ourselves, there's a little part of us that <i>does</i> appreciate when someone notices. In the right context, of course.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Anyway, we're all familiar with the term "sex sells." And right as you read that, you were probably grimacing as you pictured a bikini-clad supermodel sitting on the hood of a ridiculously expensive sports car deep-throating a bacon cheeseburger while washing said sports car with some kind of magic hose that dispenses already-soapy water that somehow manages to splash and drip just right on her barely-concealed bosom. Objectified women only sell things to men, right?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4Jh6G31OpS1K8oUKJAPGYeJL6mnxwXXRnw__VYworELkKcueQ9ad12N7LnEW-p9ps0_iQKCW4aKS5gJZSi0O9rPJkYNMtv5TEOP0K6voCC_cEYMqqwOthMptg12Wrh2SxJwH/s1600/cosmo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4Jh6G31OpS1K8oUKJAPGYeJL6mnxwXXRnw__VYworELkKcueQ9ad12N7LnEW-p9ps0_iQKCW4aKS5gJZSi0O9rPJkYNMtv5TEOP0K6voCC_cEYMqqwOthMptg12Wrh2SxJwH/s320/cosmo.jpg" width="236" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Wrong.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But wait - when women do it, it's called empowerment. Do you see where I'm going with this? If this were a Maxim cover, it would be sexist; but since it's a women's magazine - well, there are probably still plenty of women giving poor J-Lo the side-eye and calling her a whole bunch of not-so-nice synonyms for "hooker," because women are crazy - but the acceptance is still different. It's a women's magazine, so it <i>can't</i> be objectification. Erm... yes... yes it is. Cosmo is still using half-naked, photo shopped, mysterious-smirk-wearing J-Lo to <i>sell their magazine</i>.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's called a double standard. The only difference is perception. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Let's also address the issue of beauty standards - ladies, do you really think (straight) men are behind fashion, makeup trends, hair trends, diet fads, or any of that other mess that we put ourselves through as fairly typical women? Do you really think that every man in the world wants a blonde haired, blue eyed, perfect size 2? Does everyone in the world love sushi? F*ck no. Just like anything else, people have different tastes. So tell me then why it is that we have all these "impossible beauty standards" in the first place?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Ladies - you might want to sit down, I'm about to f*ck you up with some truth: WE DO IT TO OURSELVES.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
We can blame men all day long for having to look at Kate Upton staring back at us from the front of magazine covers and claim that we have low self-esteem because these standards have been shoved down our throats since we were old enough to watch television - but ladies, <i>these are the standards WE buy. </i>These are the supermodels and singers and actresses WE idolized and decided we wanted to emulate. These are the women WE objectified.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Just let that sink in for a minute.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And while we idolized and objectified these women, it became normal to look at these women not as people, but as pretty faces and fabulous bodies and mascots for products we wanted to buy to be more like them.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEink4hfUnQpf8uNqULxDP36qLAFmeP-MA2PqRUiaoaA0zErE02QW_pi_TJybnetPZhGpO4PfhknVVEcXmDfeK2tEoJ5dFHIlb48of13eH6DyTGkvBx_Vj38vdvBOE2HuEzp-AWZ/s1600/ad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEink4hfUnQpf8uNqULxDP36qLAFmeP-MA2PqRUiaoaA0zErE02QW_pi_TJybnetPZhGpO4PfhknVVEcXmDfeK2tEoJ5dFHIlb48of13eH6DyTGkvBx_Vj38vdvBOE2HuEzp-AWZ/s400/ad.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Those aren't men's shoes, guys.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And you know what? If we can placate the green-eyed monster long enough to get over our own insecurities, we could admit that there is nothing wrong with a woman being comfortable enough in her own skin to dress in ways that show off her figure, her sexuality, or shit, however in the damn well she pleases. Which brings me to:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h4 style="text-align: justify;">
The Hypocrisy</h4>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
There are a couple parts to this. I went off a little in left field earlier, but I haven't forgotten that the original intent of this post was to address the issue of harassment vs. compliments from the opposite gender. I'm getting to that, but first I think we need to look at the idea that women who <strike>wear even slightly revealing clothing</strike> breathe are whores.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
Rape Culture</h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Again, this is something that a lot of people want to peg on men in general. But ladies, let me ask you this: how many times have you, or a friend, or any female you know, declared that another female was a "whore," "hussy," "slut," "bitch," or was "asking for it," based on her appearance or what she was wearing?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Let me clarify: how many White people do you know who can't understand why it's okay for Black people to call other Black people the "n" word, but not okay for White people to do it? Let's forget for a minute that generally, when a Black person says the "n" word, it isn't meant with the nasty connotation it would have if a White person said it, while when a woman calls another woman a name like that, it's clearly venomous. Point is, to people who have never experienced racism and don't know how deeply a word like that could actually cut, hearing it used so nonchalantly by the very people it slurs somehow takes the sting out of in their minds. "It doesn't bother them," they think, "so it must not be as bad as I thought it was."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So if we always know that "fucking bitch" is always on the tip of men's tongues, do you think that maybe, at least for some of them, we put it there? Or at least suggested it?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Why would you expect men to be hesitant about throwing those words out there, when we as women are so quick to use them as weapons against other women? Saying "she's begging for it" is victim-shaming before anything has actually happened to her and sends the message that men aren't in control of their own behavior when lady lumps are present - which is both ridiculous and frankly a pretty harsh insult to men in general. Men have been controlling their primal urges around scantily-clad women for generations, let's not assume that men have suddenly devolved into brainless, helpless sexbeasts when they're aroused.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizk_gTNYo2XpXlg0YKUXfCf5DcykoXsg_byvqEwqUQU_pZvsTI9CRWn52PdtSdJkV72uUnOnc5WlfyU7oIg1fisZqZ5mQIvGKT1x4iYKWFv5fIP-YhaMNdOwL1BVcxj6ZOwlsC/s1600/TV-tonight-Community-1960s-Beach-Party-891B1G0A-x-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizk_gTNYo2XpXlg0YKUXfCf5DcykoXsg_byvqEwqUQU_pZvsTI9CRWn52PdtSdJkV72uUnOnc5WlfyU7oIg1fisZqZ5mQIvGKT1x4iYKWFv5fIP-YhaMNdOwL1BVcxj6ZOwlsC/s400/TV-tonight-Community-1960s-Beach-Party-891B1G0A-x-large.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>My God, the one on the right is foaming at the mouth already!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
That's not to say that it's all women's fault that our society is more inclined to blame the victim, but the overall perspective is obviously extremely flawed and it's going to take a major shift in attitude from all of us to fix it.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
F*cking 50 Shades of Grey</h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Ugh. <a href="http://ctrcmain.blogspot.com/2016/01/i-dont-want-to-live-on-this-planet-any.html" target="_blank">I hate that this keeps coming up guys, but sweet baby Jesus</a>. Ladies - I just - and I'm just going by numbers here - but based on the success of these books and movies, let me just say that you're all full of smelly, steaming dog poo. Why? Because these stories are nothing but smut and objectification. Yes, I realize it's fiction. But what's the point of a good book? To get lost in the world of the story. To live vicariously through the characters in the book. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And holy cheeseballs, ladies - you know what? I'm just going to get right to the point.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
That guy you just flipped the bird for whistling at you - was he good looking?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Don't look at me like that, you know what I'm talking about. And I already know the answer. See, it's okay for Mr. Magic Mike to whistle and hoot and holler, and you might blush and giggle and roll your eyes, but you probably won't get mad. You might even be a little bit flattered, even if what he just said made your stomach lurch a bit. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a55/WildeRebellion/Gifs/AwkwardsmileAmy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a55/WildeRebellion/Gifs/AwkwardsmileAmy.gif" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Wait, that's not what syrup's for...</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Just like it's totally okay for Christian Grey, a handsome, wealthy sociopath, to do all kinds of awful, unmentionable things, in a f*cking <strike>murder room </strike>sex chamber. You skipped right over the sociopath part, huh. Because he's handsome, and wealthy.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But what if he wasn't handsome? Or wealthy? Ick, right? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkPubOZnkA8H_ZAlGonuTOQNjYpEZlPKcZ7jyBS0jGPeIwFRYjTcls2nYaNXPea-7nN7_-R_hbVk-fafky5lpETboR6yEfEsdflH7G-cl0sGwSlQUTPbnvi2UoMHOhUoZufk3y/s1600/lotion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkPubOZnkA8H_ZAlGonuTOQNjYpEZlPKcZ7jyBS0jGPeIwFRYjTcls2nYaNXPea-7nN7_-R_hbVk-fafky5lpETboR6yEfEsdflH7G-cl0sGwSlQUTPbnvi2UoMHOhUoZufk3y/s320/lotion.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>That's a whole different movie, ladies.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So those "uninvited" come-ons might be more "invited" if the guy looked like Channing Tatum, yes? And I know, not all of you think that way, but ladies, I know at least some of you have been doing it, maybe without even realizing it.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's f*cked up, is all I'm saying.</div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
Perception</h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So... I could probably write another 200 words on this one, but I think this video clip sums it up pretty damned well. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/fL-1kHxsavI/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/fL-1kHxsavI?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
... point is, ladies, there's nothing wrong with flaunting it if you've got it, but for goodness' sake, expect that some men are going to openly admire it. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Are there some jerky guys out there? You betcha. Do they make up the entirety of the male species? Likely not. So before you get uber-pissed at that guy that just shouted some lame line at you and then dodged behind a mailbox, stop to consider that maybe he saw a pretty girl and, in his nervousness, what was meant as a smooth Nicholas Sparks line popped out sounding more like a pervert with Tourette's. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Smile," is sometimes more of an attempt at an icebreaker than a skeezy come-on. Or maybe, just maybe, a stranger saw your resting bitch face and thought you were having a bad day, and was trying to cheer you up. "Wow, you're really beautiful," is a f*cking compliment. It's what comes after that should determine whether you respond kindly or kick him in the balls.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Look, I get that it's exhausting some days when you're being bombarded by predatory stares and awful come-ons that run the gamut from slightly awkward to file a f*cking restraining order. But, can we maybe try to be fair and acknowledge that not every dude who crosses our path is two seconds from dragging us in an alley and doing unmentionable things to us? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHIhl_q_J4PYv7h7FZkoJxp_RugOi9Q1mOMS6-XNX0D8tEiHXc187VrJbe1OFM-zqLHSjVN9sApYxTOW7WCTAtxbB3_OdtRDWElYIycGPaxaoYlihgyeTv6UHtArC7v3lypGrc/s1600/digiorno-fake-pizza-delivery-large-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHIhl_q_J4PYv7h7FZkoJxp_RugOi9Q1mOMS6-XNX0D8tEiHXc187VrJbe1OFM-zqLHSjVN9sApYxTOW7WCTAtxbB3_OdtRDWElYIycGPaxaoYlihgyeTv6UHtArC7v3lypGrc/s400/digiorno-fake-pizza-delivery-large-5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">And sometimes, it takes guts to approach a beautiful woman, so sometimes dumb shit falls out. It's okay to turn men down politely when they're not being outright douchey, and you might just make some poor schmuck's whole day by being kind to him even after he had a total derp moment.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Here's the thing - actual compliments don't have to be invited. That's why they're compliments. But men, a compliment is generally defined as something nice that you tell someone <i>that makes them feel good. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Here's a good rule of thumb: if you would punch someone in the throat for saying what you're thinking about saying to your mother, your sister, or your daughter, then maybe just keep it to yourself.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: blue;">Hey, you! Are you full of Beryllium, Gold, and Titanium? Because you're Be-Au-Ti-Full! Why don't you join me on my </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/realitychallenged" target="_blank"><span style="color: purple;">Facebook page</span></a><span style="color: blue;"> and... eh, I suck at this. I post stuff on there sometimes. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: blue;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-67738662582298725642016-05-22T01:06:00.001-07:002016-05-22T01:06:39.539-07:00Periods - A Comprehensive Guide for Men<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Ah, Aunt Flo. The Crimson Wave. For the love of God, don't look her directly in the eyes.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Don't run away crying just yet, gentlemen - I know, periods are scary and the women who have them scarier - but never fear, just like any other demon, this one can be conquered with knowledge and a little bit of bravery. And chocolate. Guys, seriously, NEVER forget the chocolate.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGaicm6VWfytCzNq04jy8Jc0IG4iUmv0-_6CwNN-YF02jyBTCmTTnkkmQt7rokMb74MUPNEY20Ac6ywcu_L8wZX6mMGmlsMjry0hgihmzZjSj7mthYmzG7LV_UnJEKNwvoNTCJ/s1600/chocolate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGaicm6VWfytCzNq04jy8Jc0IG4iUmv0-_6CwNN-YF02jyBTCmTTnkkmQt7rokMb74MUPNEY20Ac6ywcu_L8wZX6mMGmlsMjry0hgihmzZjSj7mthYmzG7LV_UnJEKNwvoNTCJ/s400/chocolate.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Because there's nothing like an outdated stereotype to get the ball rolling.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Look, I'll spare you all the medical jargon and get straight to the point. If you're old enough to read this blog, you already know where babies do and don't come from and the mechanics that make procreation possible.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Still, if I had a dollar for every time I heard a man scoff at a woman doubled over with cramps or insist that we just "suck it up" and "quit being such a baby," I'd have enough ones to dump in a decent-sized swimming pool and wade into like Scrooge - friggin' - McDuck. You suck it up, assface. Just kidding, I love you. Also, quit looking at me like that. I'm bloated and feely and I don't want to f*cking talk about it. Now hold me. Get the f*ck away from me. CHEESEBURGER!<br />
<br />
<br />
<h3>
The Horror</h3>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
...basically, once a month a woman's uterus gets all hormonal and decides it wants a baby. Like, now.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When it doesn't get a baby, it gets even more hormonal, becomes irrationally angry, and starts shredding its own walls down around it like a screaming, teenaged were-banshee who just found out One Direction split up or something. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiZRc0cg4CITdMFJb6zt5FwqI-6fKjbfIsvlAfYbgD65rswdsFlcbA_bTHsNkmYuUVj164xELaW5PoUYDA7v3SFg7U7fir0k09kD3hpNH2Z2EPQkyMXF5cnkIXcDRDK4PwUIyy/s1600/freddie_1551038c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiZRc0cg4CITdMFJb6zt5FwqI-6fKjbfIsvlAfYbgD65rswdsFlcbA_bTHsNkmYuUVj164xELaW5PoUYDA7v3SFg7U7fir0k09kD3hpNH2Z2EPQkyMXF5cnkIXcDRDK4PwUIyy/s320/freddie_1551038c.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Or, like, this guy practicing Jui-Jitsu in the darkest depths of the lady-bits.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Have you ever been kicked in the balls? Dumb question. Okay, so remember that time you got kicked in the twig and giggleberries - and imagine that, even after that horror, your testicles responded not by retreating safely into your stomach to lick their wounds and seek therapy, but by throwing a full-blown hissy-fit and ripping your manhood out all the way from your stomach down, and then forcefully spitting it through your pee hole in unpredictable bursts. (**women DO NOT menstruate through their pee holes, but if you don't already know where it exits, I'll spare your imagination <i>that</i> monstrosity.**)<br />
<br />
Pain does things to people, man. And when you're emotionally unstable and in pain and having to rush to the bathroom every half hour to clean up the foul, disgusting bowels of Hell that keep exiting out your fun zone, it does something to your brain. This is why women are crazy. This is why women are crazier on their periods. Our own bodies rebel against us at every turn. We can't even trust our own built-in recreational zones. How's that for f*cked up?<br />
<br />
Not only that, but in some twisted joke from the Universe, women's periods tend to sync up when they're around each other for any length of time. Like, if they live together. Or work together. Or pass each other in the <strike>wine</strike> grocery store. What the royal F*CK, Universe? <br />
<br />
On a (semi) side note, where the hell do they find poor, sadistic bastards willing to work in women's correctional facilities? That's hundreds of women all bleedy and stabby and forbidden to have or do any of the things that make that time of the month bearable - ALL AT THE SAME TIME. That's nightmare fuel there, guys. Like, I imagine that for one week out of every month, those facilities just lock down, all the staff stays at home, and they just let the women do what they're going to do, Lord of the Flies style. Then at the end of that week they send the Correctional Officer they like least (the Red Shirt, if you will) to check out the scene and assess the damages before they send anyone else back in. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://media.giphy.com/media/ToMjGpGNs70xbxTuiBy/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://media.giphy.com/media/ToMjGpGNs70xbxTuiBy/giphy.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>F*ck this. I'm becoming a Priest.</i></div>
<br />
<h3>
The Money Pit</h3>
Go ahead, laugh for a minute while you make the connection between vaginas and the amount of money that men will spend to ensure access to said vaginas. Or that they will pay after access to that vagina has been restricted, because no one ever thinks about prenups when they're in love. That's not what I'm talking about here.<br />
<br />
No, obviously, when your nether regions look like something Stephen King wouldn't even write about because it's so gory, you have to have ways to keep that shit in check. Cue the feminine hygiene industry, which makes approximately too much f*cking money on things that are just going wind up looking like Rob Zombie movie props and be thrown away. <br />
<br />
If you've ever accidentally wandered into the feminine hygiene aisles at your local store, you'll already know that there are ridiculous amounts of products designed for just this thing. To the unexperienced observer, monthly items boil down to pads or tampons. Not so, grasshopper. There are hundreds of brands and even more types, sizes, absorbencies, and God only knows what other features that differentiate one product from the next. Here are just a few:<br />
<br />
<b>"Feminine Wipes."</b> Supposedly, these things are meant to keep a lady's bits fresh and flowery, while still maintaining the delicate PH balance of her amusement park. So, baby wipes. They're f*cking baby wipes.<br />
<br />
<b>"Douche."</b> Nope, not Kevin from the frat party or the guy who cut you off in traffic the other day - this stuff is supposed to literally flush out all the nasties in a woman's nasties. Because obviously our bodies aren't proficient enough at cleaning themselves out while they're shredding our baby makers from the inside out and spitting the remains out our hoo-has like some military-grade tommy gun on crack. Know what an enema is? Yea, it's that, but for vaginas. I know, gross. Also, this crap was proven unsafe several decades ago, but women still feel the need to try to one-up nature, so here it still sits on the shelf.<br />
<br />
<b>"Pantyliners." </b> Exactly as the name suggests, these are just light little "liners" that go in a woman's undies to protect from the extremely light blood flow that tends to happen at the very beginning and very end of a period. I have no joke for these, they're actually pretty handy.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>"Tampons."</b> Here's where it starts to get crazy, guys. There are several different types and absorbencies of tampons, and good luck guessing which a woman will need from one period to the next. There's "Light," "Regular," "Overnight," "Heavy," "Sport," "Teen," "Tween," "Super," and "Dear God, is Someone Being Murdered in There?"<br />
<br />
<b>"Pads."</b> Now, this one's even worse than tampons, because for some reason someone in the feminine hygiene marketing team thought that giving us 5 billion wing-size choices was helpful somehow. What the f*ck are wings and why do pads need them, you ask? Well, they're these helpful little flaps on the sides of pads that are meant to protect panties from overflow, but are more likely going to twist around and glue themselves to legs and ass cheeks. So then when a woman tries to pull down her panties to use the restroom, the pad itself is either going to dislodge from the panties and hang from her nether regions like the weirdest accessory ever, or she's going to get a nice, unexpected waxing in approximately one square inch of somewhere very sensitive. Yay wings.<br />
<br />
Pads also come in dainty choices like, "Light," "Heavy," "Overnight," and "Give up and buy the adult diapers already, lady."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsxSmiJip9t6-dMEUoWLDo4t826oDstsL4IYl0zKvKvx2Wm0PQFj3AHHzwfz2YXqzSaau4wLz6l87FC8YitDOBup1YJEDQzujpr0bFjYemBIShmANOKUhgdejNhKcXD3qcoSVh/s1600/embarrassed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsxSmiJip9t6-dMEUoWLDo4t826oDstsL4IYl0zKvKvx2Wm0PQFj3AHHzwfz2YXqzSaau4wLz6l87FC8YitDOBup1YJEDQzujpr0bFjYemBIShmANOKUhgdejNhKcXD3qcoSVh/s400/embarrassed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>My crotch shouldn't be making crinkling noises as I walk.</i></div>
<br />
<br />
So guys, if you ever find yourself having to buy feminine products for your lady, never fear, brave soldier - here's what you do:<br />
<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>Make her write down what she needs. All of it. Brand name, absorbency, scent, color, street name, whatever.</li>
<li>Find the nearest lady employee. Look lost and pitiful, but not disgusted or annoyed.</li>
<li>Hand the lady employee the sheet of paper with all your lady's needs on it, shrug sheepishly, and simply say, "my wife..." Continue looking lost and pitiful.</li>
<li>Lady employee will do all the work for you, all the while thinking what a total sweetheart you are.</li>
</ol>
<div>
Bam. Done. You're welcome.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<h3>
The Insanity</h3>
<div>
Guys, freaking hormones. For real. They're like angry little electric charges that get all fired up and bounce around inside a woman's body, exploding every time they come into contact with each other because they're currently just as confused and unstable as the woman is. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She'll seem bipolar. She'll want to cuddle and she'll tell you what a beautiful, sweet man you are one minute and then slap your hand away and tell you to go eat your Facebook girlfriend's shit the next. (Your Facebook girlfriend is obviously that one random chick who liked that one random status that one random time 3 years ago. Duh.) She'll be chugging Mountain Dew and shoving chocolate cake in her facehole like Honey Boo Boo and then suddenly start bawling because her pants are pinching her bloated tummy and <i>Oh my God, she's so fat and why don't you find her attractive anymore?</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbaPvohZN1i9BDa6N8MiZQ8pOZX7IH-i62VbcTXcDKS7v9Vn3vkrNPPdl2DMlGj5Rs48tZDjz5Io0HfwoZX7uFCktGu8IvZkspmMSCKGpjTsf142fMrikpjG_JeU_bn5bMdvu/s1600/anger-mngment-porker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbaPvohZN1i9BDa6N8MiZQ8pOZX7IH-i62VbcTXcDKS7v9Vn3vkrNPPdl2DMlGj5Rs48tZDjz5Io0HfwoZX7uFCktGu8IvZkspmMSCKGpjTsf142fMrikpjG_JeU_bn5bMdvu/s400/anger-mngment-porker.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Because crazy isn't sexy, and even Heather Graham can't make that shit not look crazy.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
She'll develop sudden onset Tourette's over little things like shoes left in the floor and the fact that she has to wait three more weeks to see how the Walking Dead cliffhanger turned out. Mood swings. Weird cravings. Even weirder OCD moments. Guys, I know. I don't even have any sound advice for dealing with it, other than maybe, go fishing or something. Get a hobby. A one week out of the month hobby. You're not getting any for that week, anyway.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3>
The Aftermath</h3>
<div>
So your lady finally transformed back from the snarling, angry she-beast to the sweet, easy-going Goddess that you originally fell in love with. Congrats! You've survived another month!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Enjoy these next three weeks, guys - you've earned it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-59479083779971474642016-05-12T22:10:00.000-07:002016-05-12T22:10:18.380-07:00Absolutely Ridiculous and I Must Have It<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Some days, I feel like some lone weirdo walking in the world, lost in my own insanity and bound by the constraints of socially acceptable (read: not weird and/or insulting) behavior.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But then, sometimes, I come across something that gives me hope. Some little light beaming far from the bottom of the abyss of darkness, that says, "hey, you. You're not so weird. There are others like you. Proceed."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you - Abusive Balloons:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm17unSXcGm-VDYbqsCQSYYiouJvvFn2J4o-2efB5DjFPXqcbF6t6ahcGkShl-o605lxPygA8cIUAwjlAIZFtpe8l8gi3mjdErOhe47lI0K62wVgRbwO1inNmFTHWTHonjRZDx/s1600/abusive+balloons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm17unSXcGm-VDYbqsCQSYYiouJvvFn2J4o-2efB5DjFPXqcbF6t6ahcGkShl-o605lxPygA8cIUAwjlAIZFtpe8l8gi3mjdErOhe47lI0K62wVgRbwO1inNmFTHWTHonjRZDx/s400/abusive+balloons.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><a href="http://www.firebox.com/product/6752/Abusive-Balloons?aff=512&awc=550_1463114161_e6300bad1684b497ea9d7cd3c758d7b4&utm_source=AffiliateWindow&utm_medium=Affiliates&utm_content=Cool+Sh%2At+You+Can+Buy&utm_campaign=TextLink" target="_blank">I've finally found my spirit animal.</a> So what if they're not actually an animal. Shut up.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Guys. GUYS. I want to buy a frackjillion of these and just carry them in my pockets. I want to personalize them and unleash them randomly when I'm so struck by someone's stupidity that I am without words. "My brain hurts now, so here's a sack of my breath, which is about as worthwhile as whatever dumb-sh*t thing just fell out of your mouth." </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The most beautiful part of this is that said person has to stand there and wonder what the hell you're doing for at least thirty seconds while you blow up the balloon. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And then, rather than tying it off so that the other person has a momento of our conversation (because of course they would want one), I'll just hold it up long enough for them to read it and then let it go so that it will violently fly away making that wheezing, farty sound that balloons do, much like whatever sound I heard come out of the other person's mouth when they said whatever dumb-sh*t thing they just said.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Or, I could tie it off, and use one of the safety pins I'll be carrying in my other pocket to pop the balloon, thus accurately expressing my disappointment in humanity at that very moment.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt0GQLc7Dhhv6j6Qj1aJQXrKz-0ya0ul2zybWDKaLCTeox9O8c_oonfUohRwVhGVpFBLbiaXvhUEIr0nUd9Rb9a1gKpuUoSzYuKrTo8II_LN0l06ywzYYAm5guycQigDqRl626/s1600/balloon_red2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt0GQLc7Dhhv6j6Qj1aJQXrKz-0ya0ul2zybWDKaLCTeox9O8c_oonfUohRwVhGVpFBLbiaXvhUEIr0nUd9Rb9a1gKpuUoSzYuKrTo8II_LN0l06ywzYYAm5guycQigDqRl626/s320/balloon_red2.jpg" width="246" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>POP! *Mic drop*</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's whimsical and awful all at the same time. Like a happy clown whose flower ninja throat-punches you rather than squirting you with water. Or a Disneyland character who goes in for a hug and ends with a super wedgie. Don't tell me you don't want at least a dozen of those at your disposal. I mean, really. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-66602057762975534242016-04-27T22:57:00.000-07:002016-04-27T22:57:24.744-07:00Cynicism and Insomnia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I just want to point out that you know you've reached the milestone of actual adulthood when a new appliance excites you. Specifically, a new washer, since my last one decided it didn't want to drain and spin anymore but would act like it was still going through all the motions of a normal wash cycle. So basically the little green light would come on saying that the load was done and ready to be switched over to the dryer, yet when I would open the lid I would be met with a pile of sopping wet clothes and enough water to run that bubble bath I could have been relaxing in if I didn't have to keep resetting the washer to drain and spin 4 times a f*cking load. That's like 3 hours per load of laundry, guys. I could have been using a washboard on the back porch and been more efficient than that.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And before anyone tries to tell me that I could have just rung the clothes out myself, let me just remind you that the whole purpose of an appliance is that they are supposed to do all the work for you. Ain't nobody got time for all that.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">Besides, somewhere in the rinse cycle, the damn thing also forgot to actually rinse the clothes - so I'd be left with little pieces of scent booster and whatever else might have been on the clothes that made it necessary to wash them in the first place. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Anyway, I upgraded to a pretty little front-loading model that cleans in half the time and spins so hard that the clothes come out almost dry. Eat that, washer who refused to even do the most basic parts of your job.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLcHBAwLkO7_hbNebPOC2m0ygvyIK2pdpvtGK8IO26_ExenvhRGjNeR08kAFo6WX0KmuAkJHQqf1tExVbEqbepY4ZnafIWedT43iZbs47_i_ffPB1c1P4sr8WCMLVG01KsLzup/s1600/washer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLcHBAwLkO7_hbNebPOC2m0ygvyIK2pdpvtGK8IO26_ExenvhRGjNeR08kAFo6WX0KmuAkJHQqf1tExVbEqbepY4ZnafIWedT43iZbs47_i_ffPB1c1P4sr8WCMLVG01KsLzup/s320/washer.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You're fired.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Guys, my new washer plays a little song every time it finishes a load. I'm not kidding. It's like it knows it's done a good job and is so proud of itself that it has to announce it to the world with a tinkly little melody. Like a magic trick in a kid's movie. Brrrrring, *star shine.* *Jazz hands.*</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I already know I'm going to want to kill it with a sledge hammer by this time next week, but for now it kind of makes me feel like a Disney princess. Except for the helpful woodland animals that do all my chores for me. And the Prince in shining armor. And the happily ever after complete with castle and epic f*ck you to all the people who have ever been mean to me in my life.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Dammit, Disney.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It even makes music every time you turn it on to start a load, and makes a little ding every time you choose an option. Actually, aside from when it's washing, it makes a lot of noise. Like LG wants you to think that their washer makes chores magical. Baby toy sound effects magical.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
F*ck.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm off to find my screwdriver.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-36660144779743729472016-03-03T08:48:00.002-08:002016-03-03T08:48:36.266-08:00Facebook Releases New Emojis...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Oh, Facebook.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
For a while now, we've all lamented the fact that there was only a "like" button on Facebook, which often times was just used as a way to acknowledge the existence of a post so our friends didn't get all butthurt that their life-altering musings weren't important enough to warrant a few seconds of our time. If the post contained anything other than good news or witty thoughts, we felt obligated to clarify in the comments that we didn't "like" that Grandpa just passed away, but we're sending thoughts and prayers and metaphorical casseroles or whatever.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
...but ain't nobody got time for that sh*t.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So, because we're lazy in the most literal sense of the term, we're demanding that Facebook expand the emoji options, to cover the most obvious and universal reactions to Facebook posts:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
1. The "Quit Attention-Whoring" emoji. </h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Maybe just an eye-rolling smiley or a little caricature of Kanye West. Yes. We need this. I didn't even realize how badly we needed this until just now.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDUzDiiZvznUJ8Lndj2vTy-JdZwErm5e97JatovMl9PsCkq5ACdCfFqYl5kblYrjO-p1FDuR6kFkW_g5XvELOfUO13HMS12uEjUFQph4g1BcfmDrCZwqUM8hRuokGiHxEf5ZYW/s1600/kanye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDUzDiiZvznUJ8Lndj2vTy-JdZwErm5e97JatovMl9PsCkq5ACdCfFqYl5kblYrjO-p1FDuR6kFkW_g5XvELOfUO13HMS12uEjUFQph4g1BcfmDrCZwqUM8hRuokGiHxEf5ZYW/s320/kanye.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You know you've gone too far when even Kanye is unimpressed by your 15th "tell me I'm pretty" post this week.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
We all have that friend. You know the one. The one that either posts what they're doing every second of the day, or just constantly needs to be reassured that their right to occupy space is still valid. "Like if you love me. Ignore if you hate me." "Rate me. 27 different ways." "If I died tomorrow, would you cry?" "If I was lost on a space station somewhere in the Zenon galaxy with only hours to live and a phone only half charged, would you still Snapchat me?"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Ugh.</div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
2. The "I'm Actually Seriously Re-evaluating my Friendship With You Both on Facebook and in the Real World Right Now" emoji.</h3>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7VslaajndEqRW1SS_JjUsRCieQyWBAJdE4kNq9y1UJAQpjT0j_2H9xr5qX6RPSIvgi_oo8Ys125irFjNjT4HDAVMjFtfrt7ttV71umICGqgTmnevlcR0X8H-1AEDFISMKEPyb/s1600/murphy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7VslaajndEqRW1SS_JjUsRCieQyWBAJdE4kNq9y1UJAQpjT0j_2H9xr5qX6RPSIvgi_oo8Ys125irFjNjT4HDAVMjFtfrt7ttV71umICGqgTmnevlcR0X8H-1AEDFISMKEPyb/s320/murphy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
There's something about the anonymity of being online that makes <i>aaaalll</i> the skeletons come parading out of peoples' closets. Sometimes those skeletons are really, really scary and covered in decades worth of supremely undesirable characteristics. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Like maybe your best friend from childhood suddenly declares their deep-seated racist beliefs. Or that seemingly harmless, funny guy at work reveals that he likes to make lamp shades out of human skin in his spare time. Or your mother just confessed to only pretending to like bacon because she was worried what the world might think of her, but she's newly single and spunky and to hell with what everyone thinks, she's going to live her life her way now.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Nope, sorry Mom, I think that might just be the deal breaker.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
3. The "What the f*ck did I just read/see?" emjoi.</h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Totally self-explanatory.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0UsBCKgFj1OG-wRSYlEu_cFLv7fuSPHoV9oQYhxfAzF8j8sGvZpbnpy9dNDNIYyb4AXBRHxYmxWFmjufQlJGLafYqHcasEZB0OsP51M4vhbFNiGo0wjSk-O_FYk06KwcnTbqM/s1600/wut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0UsBCKgFj1OG-wRSYlEu_cFLv7fuSPHoV9oQYhxfAzF8j8sGvZpbnpy9dNDNIYyb4AXBRHxYmxWFmjufQlJGLafYqHcasEZB0OsP51M4vhbFNiGo0wjSk-O_FYk06KwcnTbqM/s320/wut.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>...but sometimes people need a gentle reminder that not all things should be shared with the world. Or with anyone other than a licensed therapist.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
4. The "I like this post, but for the love of God, don't message/text/call me just because you see me online" emoji. Also known as the "I'm Here but Busy" button.</h3>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://media0.giphy.com/media/4pMX5rJ4PYAEM/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://media0.giphy.com/media/4pMX5rJ4PYAEM/giphy.gif" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Sometimes you're at work. Some days you're just antisocial. I can't be the only one who avoids certain people's posts because they will inevitably try to contact me as soon as I acknowledge them on Faceboook. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
5. The "I literally lost IQ points reading/watching this" emoji.</h3>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGeQY6cAo5JdfdLSbvTrP4b5hIPI3hhKM_jH8gjXtNzPSnlDFd34f3OJoOA3Zf8TZtTReBCnGtA4le16BwXmYo1X_X7GeWlRIe1EN-sMzraJHEKXEcEFo3Shs-iBAWrSIkllct/s1600/monkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGeQY6cAo5JdfdLSbvTrP4b5hIPI3hhKM_jH8gjXtNzPSnlDFd34f3OJoOA3Zf8TZtTReBCnGtA4le16BwXmYo1X_X7GeWlRIe1EN-sMzraJHEKXEcEFo3Shs-iBAWrSIkllct/s1600/monkey.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The snozberries DO taste like snozberries!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
To be fair, I appreciate dumb humor as much as anyone else. So no, I'm not talking about lame puns or stupid things that people post to be ironic or make a point. Something has to be really, really, mind-numbingly ignorant to actually incite my rage on behalf of my intellect.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Non-educated rants. Racism, bigotry, closed-minded drivel. People who think their opinion matters more than others' because they're pretty or wealthy or connected. People who have found a platform to speak but apparently have no idea what is actually coming out of their face holes or keyboard strokes. People who base entire opinions on hearsay and feelings rather than any actual logic, reason, or intelligent conclusions they came to on their own. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Opinions are fine, guys, but holy righteous indignation, Batman - back it up with <i>something </i>valid.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
6. The "I totally agree, but there's no way in hell I'm sharing this because you write/spell/punctuate like a dyslexic 2nd grader" emoji. </h3>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_DxFcDsxV5GYqoyhEcEd9HDYsJbgaZNdZKmW0RXEjzz1ovmCPIr_DHcksgDr6j4ie24QERCyHM9fKKn0tx61Iap8iOSbx_NY9R2Qw2MKMVEOLCfP_taNoxcQ5_62qqjwRd-LM/s1600/spelling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_DxFcDsxV5GYqoyhEcEd9HDYsJbgaZNdZKmW0RXEjzz1ovmCPIr_DHcksgDr6j4ie24QERCyHM9fKKn0tx61Iap8iOSbx_NY9R2Qw2MKMVEOLCfP_taNoxcQ5_62qqjwRd-LM/s1600/spelling.jpg" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Again, in fairness, text lingo doesn't bother me. You want to save a few seconds by dropping vowels and abbreviating, that's cool, I can usually navigate my way through that. If you're just not an apt speller or writer, that's okay too. Not everyone is. Typos happen, all the time. That I get, too.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But it takes longer than 10 seconds to translate two sentences into something coherent, we have a problem. If you're making fun of people for misspellings and grammar errors, holy sh*tballs make sure that you're properly using "they're, their, and there." Also, "you're" and "your." You don't get to be a spelling/grammar Nazi and not know how to use the English language properly yourself.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
7. The "Trump" emoji. </h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
For those posts that are so ridiculous that they seem harmless and funny at first, but then people get super heated really fast for no reason and suddenly you find yourself gnoshing popcorn while being witness to WW3 on Facebook.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWiveOLGRZz3yJYRLp0Uwa4oztOFoMYHUSrcox2O9uoKEwIAiRkGa0mqp9Qb64VbOTlwrDAIFq_93mttsBfgtUcgcNSAlx7K2LsiXGOcpxdbPP3F4yri2GPRnyB_9vkcd1f4nR/s1600/Borowitz-Trump-Vietnam-1200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWiveOLGRZz3yJYRLp0Uwa4oztOFoMYHUSrcox2O9uoKEwIAiRkGa0mqp9Qb64VbOTlwrDAIFq_93mttsBfgtUcgcNSAlx7K2LsiXGOcpxdbPP3F4yri2GPRnyB_9vkcd1f4nR/s320/Borowitz-Trump-Vietnam-1200.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>See this finger? See it? It smells like my next mail order bride and White Supremacy.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The Trump emoji would allow you to convey that you can already see how quickly things are going to escalate and you want no part of it. Also known as the "I'm Taking a Break From Mankind for a While" and "F*ck This, I'm Moving to Canada" emojis.</div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
8. The "Fact Check" emoji. </h3>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUQBSdtyjCgOqAOVDW4CQhs-daJdJkcrNp-JOwUfD_CLk9GEZdRsi71GnpNsGyu92HDYxExQpxy_IUoP0B0S9JCcI-0bIBdTxItQ6J6YC3v7Avv4LnGEHJjR51tWl0edfM_bxI/s1600/Credible-Hulk.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUQBSdtyjCgOqAOVDW4CQhs-daJdJkcrNp-JOwUfD_CLk9GEZdRsi71GnpNsGyu92HDYxExQpxy_IUoP0B0S9JCcI-0bIBdTxItQ6J6YC3v7Avv4LnGEHJjR51tWl0edfM_bxI/s320/Credible-Hulk.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Maybe this one can auto-post a link to Snopes or something, with a friendly reminder that f*cking Wikipedia IS NOT a reliable source and that The Onion is a damned satire site meant for entertainment purposes only. Read: NOT REAL.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
9. The "Countdown" emjoi.</h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
For those people that you like alright, but post stupid sh*t incessantly. This would remind them that you value your friendship, but you'll only put up with so much shenanigans. Three strikes, friend, that's what you get. "Keep scrolling if you hate Jesus." That's one. "Trump for President!" That should wipe you out right there, but I'll be fair and only count it as one. So that's Two.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5eiFhBgJ-zEktCIDc31k9EjSqBJYOjLyJzm_WgqpJp70PS33R28ahi3WcCONYiROTbqHQavqslvJYOBLNPGpXihgHqhTtylUzkRaorbHMFjwBtadYRtDqPiUX2z1J9MBnTghI/s1600/jackie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5eiFhBgJ-zEktCIDc31k9EjSqBJYOjLyJzm_WgqpJp70PS33R28ahi3WcCONYiROTbqHQavqslvJYOBLNPGpXihgHqhTtylUzkRaorbHMFjwBtadYRtDqPiUX2z1J9MBnTghI/s320/jackie.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Tread lightly, friend. Tread lightly.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
10. The "I Know You In Real Life and I'm Getting Pretty Sick of Your Sh*t" emoji. </h3>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj738P3NBNtwmdfR3QoBpN-8Ylz0dzSn6jpjrFTxatmimWFdImxtypV7Jt8HW0QIxvoSsodzTt3i8xqSI6yoig9HgMfgGEbSZOI_gAWhZNxCrY6iR51-vwqoSOQfuXiEJhovGLQ/s1600/photoshop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj738P3NBNtwmdfR3QoBpN-8Ylz0dzSn6jpjrFTxatmimWFdImxtypV7Jt8HW0QIxvoSsodzTt3i8xqSI6yoig9HgMfgGEbSZOI_gAWhZNxCrY6iR51-vwqoSOQfuXiEJhovGLQ/s320/photoshop.jpg" width="244" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Mom told me I could become anything I wanted, so I became Wreck-It-Ralph.</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This one would be for those people who like to tell the world how absolutely awesome they are at their job, parenting, and life in general, while forgetting that there are actual people on their friend's list who know their real day-to-day bullsh*t.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Look, it's kind of an unspoken rule that we only broadcast meaningful, preferably good things to the world. This is a good thing. No one needs - or wants - to know all the dark, dirty details of our lives.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But when I see you with your $200 hair cut and $75 manicure and name-brand clothes screaming profanities at your unbathed, poorly dressed kid at the store for being a f*cking brat and wanting breakfast at 4 o'clock in the afternoon and then run across your Facebook post about how haters gon' hate and your kid is your whole world and you're the best mom ever, it kind of makes me want to punch you in the face.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Oh sigh, I'm the only person who ever does any work around here I should just quit so I can be appreciated," says the person who shows up a half an hour late every day and then spends 90% of their time on their phone. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"I get so tired of being surrounded by uneducated Oompa Loompas and having to dumb myself down to get through my days," says the person who dropped out of high school in the 10th grade to fish and smoke weed and hasn't picked up a book since they had to clean their room when they were 10 or had a job, well, ever.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
STOP. IT. You're not fooling anyone. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
What say you, dear readers? Are there any other Facebook emojis you'd like to see and would totally wear out if you had them?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: blue;">In the meantime, you can totally test out the new Facebook emojis on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/realitychallenged/" target="_blank">Facebook Page</a>.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-43533833838744066822016-03-01T21:43:00.000-08:002016-03-01T21:43:18.363-08:00The Spaghetti Rule<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I joked a while back about seeing all these posts online where people were disappointed that liars' pants don't actually catch on fire, and I thought, "what a good reason to carry a lighter."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So while we disregard the fact that this is now the second post in a row that suggests I might be a pyromaniac (I'm not - that one time at work was <i>mostl</i>y a joke and we were all <i>freezing, </i>ask anybody), I just want to bring this whole subject back up for discussion.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Full disclosure, sure, I lie sometimes. We all do. Even beyond the obligatory "oh, that haircut's not so bad," and, "no, those pants absolutely <i>do not</i> make you look like a sausage roll <i>at all</i>" to spare someone's feelings.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So no, dear readers, this isn't a long-winded lesson in morality, but more a deep-thoughts session where I expound on the thoughts rolling around in my own brain, if for no other reason than that I cannot stand to not know why people do the things they do.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
If I were to guess where most lies come from, it isn't so much fear of consequence as fear of vulnerability. You tell the customer who's screaming in your face about not selling him beer on a Sunday or whatever that for Christ's sakes you didn't write the law and he's being a total tool for taking it out on you, and you risk him firing back that you're an asshole for not being cool enough to bend the rules just this once, just for him, and shit man, he might actually have a good reason for being such a jerk - like maybe he just buried his dad and all he needs in the world right now is to sit back with a cold one on his dad's grave and cry - and then you <i>will</i> feel like an asshole.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2J0vRV36Jqy4abyhSRQj7PFBIfFJjVzR_mmdt5fYHd6-ky1IHN65m7GWtlL3G0YU0yEnZia6BM4PN99HVCTfNQHa-XSc7SxkkyBUOVVsKyH-7EWNiWm53xUs-OmJwD3S-fRdi/s1600/Manning-bummed-2col.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2J0vRV36Jqy4abyhSRQj7PFBIfFJjVzR_mmdt5fYHd6-ky1IHN65m7GWtlL3G0YU0yEnZia6BM4PN99HVCTfNQHa-XSc7SxkkyBUOVVsKyH-7EWNiWm53xUs-OmJwD3S-fRdi/s320/Manning-bummed-2col.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Damn. Now</i> I<i> want a beer.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Even if you're right. Even if there's not a damned thing you can do about it.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Then there's this funny thing in relationships where we swallow all the small things, because - what's the point? Then one day you break and you tell your spouse that they're an inconsiderate clod when they bark at you for forgetting to take the trash out, and suddenly you're hit square in the face with every. single. f*cked up thing you've ever done, some of them surely things that you didn't think were that big and/or that you've totally forgotten about and - holy sh*t. I said that? God, I'm an asshole.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
...and then for a while you take every angry thing they can dish out because for some stupid reason, you think you deserve to be punished for everything you did. Everything that went unaddressed. Everything that was maybe brought up at some point but was ultimately pushed back and compartmentalized, because, who wants to deal with all that? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Or you snap and say something horrible, and the person you snap at has no retort whatsoever - they just break down into unintelligible sobs and begin apologizing profusely. Nobody want to be <i>that </i>asshole.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Or maybe nothing's said at all, until one day you wake up and you realize that you loathe the person you used to love most in the world, and at that point there's no going back. Or, you answer the door and have divorce papers shoved in your face, while you're standing there legitimately not understanding what is going on or why.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqe0CvamnPnRFKh6irVnRqKSwlpz6pLsWnr84ITYMPwo2Yrx7_EnexLOh4G23IVzmtDxlK0NMPpoqIPNyVkE8y903TSAtbctj-zXrm3MUWcyORaa8B4P2-1bM0j1buCoZjFLHo/s1600/cas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqe0CvamnPnRFKh6irVnRqKSwlpz6pLsWnr84ITYMPwo2Yrx7_EnexLOh4G23IVzmtDxlK0NMPpoqIPNyVkE8y903TSAtbctj-zXrm3MUWcyORaa8B4P2-1bM0j1buCoZjFLHo/s320/cas.jpg" width="235" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Now that I think about it, I have been a bit of an assbutt lately.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Why do we do that to ourselves?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
How hard is it to tell someone to pick up their own damned socks <i>the first time</i>, instead of silently gathering them up until the sight of the billionth sock 5 years down the road makes us want to suffocate them with their own foot stench marinated affronts to fabric? Why do we pretend that all that obnoxious stuff isn't so bad, until it's so obnoxious that it destroys everything around it?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When I was a kid, my Dad put it to me this way (some poetic justices taken - but not many):</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
You go to a friend's house and they invite you to a spaghetti dinner. For whatever reason, you just don't feel like spaghetti right then. Maybe you just had spaghetti the night before. Maybe you're craving tacos instead. Maybe you've already made plans with someone else. But, rather than risk hurting their feelings by just turning them down, you say, "oh, I can't, I hate spaghetti." Which is dumb because spaghetti is delicious. But whatever.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But, your friend, being a good friend, remembers from then on that you "hate" spaghetti. So the next time you go to their house for dinner, they make sure it's not spaghetti. So even if you really, really want spaghetti - too bad. Tacos. No spaghetti for you.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Then, later on, they catch you eating spaghetti. "Hey, I thought you hated spaghetti!" So you then either have to fess up to lying or pretend that whoever was cooking the spaghetti at their house is just a really awful spaghetti cook. Which is mean. Either way - AWKWARD. And totally unnecessary.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It would have just been easier to be honest the first time, and told them, "Nah, I don't really feel like spaghetti tonight, maybe later."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy6046cHFHNHcQm2xgOSOhNhnod2FOCeG4WEK5J-FYczy53uHSYKsobC6SkUZfjxKc5KfI_SyI8nqO5cyHWDBSlzpg6_qGrg6AuhQfMV3PKcRGZvaMubVNm4NtW2BpPJo6ckSi/s1600/o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy6046cHFHNHcQm2xgOSOhNhnod2FOCeG4WEK5J-FYczy53uHSYKsobC6SkUZfjxKc5KfI_SyI8nqO5cyHWDBSlzpg6_qGrg6AuhQfMV3PKcRGZvaMubVNm4NtW2BpPJo6ckSi/s320/o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Which is dumb, because spaghetti is delicious. But whatever.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Side note: this is how many of my life lessons were learned, if that makes anything clearer as far as my own ramblings go.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Anywho, I refer to this as the Spaghetti Rule: just be honest the first time, and you'll never have to backtrack or lie more to get out of that first "little" lie.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Hey, tacos are awesome, but sometimes you just want some damn spaghetti. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: blue;">Do you really hate spaghetti and fail to find anything helpful in this blog post? Post your complaints on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/realitychallenged" target="_blank">Facebook Page</a>. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-11930360526813407312016-02-26T17:48:00.001-08:002016-02-26T17:54:37.651-08:00Just Hand me the Flamethrower and Look Away<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So here's something that probably too many people already know about me - my mother is a hoarder.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
That's not an exaggeration, people. I didn't know there was a term for it other than "what the hell could you possibly need 10,000 back issues of Knitting Weekly stacked fort-style precisely along the front of the couch when you don't even knit?" until about 3 years ago (thanks A & E!).</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ9prgvitA-YjBfgmhjzwEUxiC0nkILYbdLSzZ-44RPyQBZWQdpNxzMI6RM8T_ne_FSbXVWpSWwOzaIhyphenhyphen9kcPA0H5hOBfRki1-UGNlQSihK9d2yhzYQyaUi2Jzb7h1zn_0b3OR/s1600/hoarders-tv.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ9prgvitA-YjBfgmhjzwEUxiC0nkILYbdLSzZ-44RPyQBZWQdpNxzMI6RM8T_ne_FSbXVWpSWwOzaIhyphenhyphen9kcPA0H5hOBfRki1-UGNlQSihK9d2yhzYQyaUi2Jzb7h1zn_0b3OR/s400/hoarders-tv.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>There may or may not be a couch under there. Or a body. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Or Darth Vader riding a unicorn. The entry to Atlantis? Who knows?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Full disclaimer: I'm not a perfect housekeeper. Not even close. Also, I get that hoarding is a mental illness that is usually rooted in something deeply emotionally debilitating. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The point of all this is that, because of my mother's hoarding, I bounce between OCD and a touch of hoarding impulses myself. I'll hold onto shit that I know I probably won't ever need, just because I feel like as soon as I throw it away or get rid of it, I or someone else will need it. But in my defense, I have no problems actually getting rid of things that have zero sentimental value if they've been sitting in my house collecting dust and taking up space forever. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
A miraculous thing happened way back when I was still with my girls' dad - our house burnt down. Now, before anyone gets all offended, the house fire itself was devastating, in that my daughter and I were in the house when it started and my daughter suffered a few burns. All of her stuff was lost, all of our pictures, a lot of things that held sentimental value that couldn't be recovered or replaced. But ultimately, my daughter was okay and that was all that mattered. Stuff is just stuff, and I have yet to look back and really mourn anything that was actually lost in that house fire.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
People around us were really amazing - donations poured in, in the form of vouchers, money, and basic things you kind of take for granted until you don't have them; toothbrushes and other toiletries, small appliances, socks and underwear. Things that you're so used to just <i>having</i> that you don't really expect to need them but not have them.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When my husband and I split up several years ago, I was again in a very similar situation, starting basically from scratch. And again, family and friends graciously stepped in and tried to make sure I had all those basic things, and then some.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But - and I'm not complaining here, just making a point - when people become generous, they become <i>really</i> generous. As they're going through <i>their</i> things trying to find things they think someone might need, they come across odds and ends that have been shoved to the back of a closet or drawer, and they think, "I've never had a need for this, maybe they can use it. After all, they don't have <i>anything</i> right now." </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghMsCOEGz-9iDq6zQvMVJbLfgMaqRJG5e-rQyULhX6MR_wXsdhh7EGdBk3TDbjc7VNfnWdkcBW2CNPBcEH1tlovvNQ5v0cDJdw-UB9v2nHe_r7e-twP6RN-FKWsHh2DsHRQnZN/s1600/dibbuk+box.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghMsCOEGz-9iDq6zQvMVJbLfgMaqRJG5e-rQyULhX6MR_wXsdhh7EGdBk3TDbjc7VNfnWdkcBW2CNPBcEH1tlovvNQ5v0cDJdw-UB9v2nHe_r7e-twP6RN-FKWsHh2DsHRQnZN/s320/dibbuk+box.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Well, I know they don't have one of these, and this one's just been sitting in our basement causing shenanigans...</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
To be clear, I am truly grateful for every single thing that anyone ever gave me in my time of need. I'm not looking the gift horse in the mouth or crap-talking peoples' generosity in the least. The point I'm trying to make is, this is how it starts.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Clutter. Well-meaning, generous as f*ck clutter. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
At the time of this writing, I have 37 coffee mugs. 37. Just let that sink in. I don't own a coffee shop. I'm not a member of the most ridiculously populated book club ever. What the f*ck will I ever need 37 coffee mugs for? Some of them are tiny, like freaking Saki cups. Who the hell only drinks two ounces of coffee at a time? Are they dollhouse coffee mugs? I don't own a dollhouse! WHERE ARE ALL THESE RIDICULOUSLY TINY COFFEE MUGS COMING FROM???</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0-Cpwatvd2fv9b8ARDdBPYqtHvCU62knpNQ6MRDxSSMc40zIVQiCn-Z2jR_yoBrrI0plISP43UK_Md8oKWSmFps1vtkn5a6XJnCLp82Do_3kKl9BF6o2l7z_s27lC0YGnUvN/s1600/tiny+coffee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0-Cpwatvd2fv9b8ARDdBPYqtHvCU62knpNQ6MRDxSSMc40zIVQiCn-Z2jR_yoBrrI0plISP43UK_Md8oKWSmFps1vtkn5a6XJnCLp82Do_3kKl9BF6o2l7z_s27lC0YGnUvN/s1600/tiny+coffee.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>This is an abomination and I demand an explanation.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Anywho, the point of this rant was actually more along the lines of the behavior of the people I cohabit with, not the amount of useless clutter in my house. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Can someone please explain to me how trash and dirty laundry can find its way 2 feet from the trashcan or laundry basket, but not INTO the trashcan or laundry basket? How is it easier to stack trash all Tetris-like on TOP of the can, when all one has to do is flip a lid and toss said trash INTO said can? Or why it seems acceptable to leave one sheet of toilet paper on the roll when there are quite clearly 5 more full rolls two feet two the left in the cabinet? Why are the crevices in my couch populated by chip bags and empty water bottles, and my shelves filled with sad, empty boxes?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Anyone?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I have this weird ritual where I wash laundry, fold it, and place it neatly into designated baskets to be put away. No one seems to understand that, once the clean laundry is in the basket, the next step IS NOT to rifle through it until it's half in the living room floor and jumbled into a mass of now-wrinkled fabrics that my cats then deem their personal territory for sleepy-time.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
....and this whole post is really just me procrastinating the inevitable chore of cleaning my house.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
*sigh*<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYh0SqpGb7xyqfez2A2u6lhRUlw9xCkiAQ9s0_GOqm6wr9ToI_LkaYX2c4n1yeGfjs_1WFyMh1Md-09EGI5rcUhn6RyjbEqhCBm12ujhl_fl6J8kNmcAh_bVGNoSsTRBcbggcd/s1600/tiny-coffee-mug.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYh0SqpGb7xyqfez2A2u6lhRUlw9xCkiAQ9s0_GOqm6wr9ToI_LkaYX2c4n1yeGfjs_1WFyMh1Md-09EGI5rcUhn6RyjbEqhCBm12ujhl_fl6J8kNmcAh_bVGNoSsTRBcbggcd/s320/tiny-coffee-mug.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>...Oh, NOW I get it!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: blue;">Hate cleaning your house? Well, I'm not going to do it for you, but we can procrastinate together on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/realitychallenged" target="_blank">Facebook page</a>.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-47051129873338473822016-02-22T18:15:00.001-08:002016-02-22T18:15:16.411-08:00An Open Letter to America Regarding Rape Culture<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div>
Let me be clear, right from the get-go - this is a humor blog, but this post is not going to be funny.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This entire subject is far from f*cking funny.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I just recently heard about Kesha's lawsuit against her agent, alleging rape, verbal, mental, emotional abuse, and a whole slew of other accusations. Let's pretend for a minute that it isn't already bullsh*t that, after being smacked in the face relentlessly with Bill Cosby's accusations of rape, Kesha's situation has barely surfaced in my news feeds. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I don't want to pull the race card here, I really don't - but how is it that Cosby's entire career has been shredded just on the basis of accusations - and I'll grant you, there are a lot of them - but Kesha's rich, white manager hasn't solicited so much as a second look, despite the clear look of devastation on Kesha's face when she was told that she'd have to uphold her end of her contract despite everything she alleges?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
No, let's take a step back from that even, to the comments that have been thrown around. Just like every other case of a woman stepping forward with accusations of rape or sexual assault, cue the slut-shaming.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Why didn't she report anything until now? But, oh my God, look how she dresses! Look how she presents herself! She's probably slept with X amount of people - </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
STOP.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcG_-xkg9EutHNSRdpeV4OoYj-iqTERYYX8HHCAmcExzLy7skrCK26qVFrWGY3fYKFjm8oA8BIIYlVeR33zSL48qD7aH1Bsa41ZsVgtL-EdwAMjsGqQf6KaF5BwRXIJZUk_ZwP/s1600/Kesha-center-in-white-cries-as-she-learns-she-will-not-be-released-from-her-record-label-contract-in-Manhattan-Supreme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcG_-xkg9EutHNSRdpeV4OoYj-iqTERYYX8HHCAmcExzLy7skrCK26qVFrWGY3fYKFjm8oA8BIIYlVeR33zSL48qD7aH1Bsa41ZsVgtL-EdwAMjsGqQf6KaF5BwRXIJZUk_ZwP/s400/Kesha-center-in-white-cries-as-she-learns-she-will-not-be-released-from-her-record-label-contract-in-Manhattan-Supreme.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This is not the face of a spoiled little rich girl who didn't get her way. This is anguish. This is the face of someone far too many of us can relate to, yet too many others have no shame in mocking.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Let me make this perfectly clear, and I'm not even specifically talking about Kesha anymore: a woman could WILLINGLY hop on every sausage train that passes her way, but the second she says "no" and is forced into an act she is not WILLING to do, IT IS RAPE. The second she becomes too inebriated or otherwise influenced to a point of not being totally cognizant of what's going on, IT IS RAPE. It doesn't matter if she initiated the act, when she says "no," that's the end of it. No coercion, no guilt trips, no forceful continuance. End of story.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"But, she's asking for it with the way she dresses." NO. If a man isn't in control of himself enough to admire the female form and then get on with his life, that's HIS fault, NOT HERS. If a man doesn't understand the clear line between consent and force, that is HIS fault, NOT HERS. It's true the other way around, as well - a man should be able to walk around wearing whatever the hell he damn well pleases without having to worry about being mauled and mounted, dehumanized and made to feel like a slab of beef. It doesn't matter if someone dresses for attention - again, HUGE difference between attention and rape. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm not man-hating here, I promise. I know that there are plenty of females out there willing to throw out the "rape" card just because they didn't get their way - and believe me when I say that those women deserve their lives to be ripped apart in all the ways they just attempted to rip apart an innocent man's. The way that they've just made it that much harder for someone who really has been victimized to get help. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I also know that there are plenty of men out there who are total gentlemen and have pride in the respect they show women, men who never step out of line and still get the haughty responses to genuine compliments or the dirty looks for simply existing and possessing a penis. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Also - can we please acknowledge the fact that men can be victims of rape as well?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
People - let me put it to you this way:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Before you start shouting about "the way she dresses" and "what a ho, she probably deserved it," put your mother in that woman's place. Your sister. Your daughter. Your wife. Really stop and think, maybe even ask the women in your life the kind of crap they have to put up with as women, even if they're total saints and dress in the most modest ways imaginable.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Because it doesn't matter if she's in the nude or wearing a Hazmat suit - if men can tell she's a female, she's going to get hit on. She's going to elicit hoots and hollers whether she's "asking for the attention" or not. She's going to be treated as though she's stupid and inferior, and it won't matter what job she has, what her IQ is, whether she's married and faithful, whether she's an amazing mother or sister or friend, what kind of real beauty or talent she possesses - what she's like as a human being in general - all that's going to matter is how she fills out her clothes and whether someone thinks they have "a chance" with her or not.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And rape, friends, isn't exclusive to "loose" women, either. Even if it was, we should still be rallying for that woman, not against her. It isn't exclusive to just women, for that matter, or even to adults. It has no preference for color or lifestyle or religious affiliation. It can happen to ANYBODY.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And as far as reporting it? Again, let me clarify this for you. If you've never been a victim of rape, you have no way of understanding the psychological damage that happens as a result. That's not even taking into account if the perpetrator was someone you know, in which case, there are a whole bunch of other issues that crop up.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Do you know what a rape kit is? I can't even deal with going into all of the details here, so check out <a href="https://rainn.org/get-information/sexual-assault-recovery/rape-kit" target="_blank">this link</a> to find out what someone has to go through after reporting a rape. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Then comes a forensic interview, in which a person has to recount, in as much detail as possible, the exact events of what just happened to a complete stranger. Keep in mind that this will be the first of at least dozens of times that a victim will have to recount their own horrors to complete strangers, including doctors, police, lawyers - and eventually, in court in front of their own rapist.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
For children, and even many adults, it's likely that the rapist threatened physical harm to them and/or their families if they spoke up. Imagine how horrifying that must be, to be told by someone who just literally ripped your own power away to tell you that they would do the same again, or to the people you love. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Often, you're told that no one would believe you anyway. Take a look just at some of the message boards online, and you'll see how easy that one is to believe.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So, like in Kesha's case - you step forward, bring it all to light, only to be sent back to the very person who did it in the first place. Now you face the humiliation of telling everyone what happened - repeatedly, plus the whole thing being thrown back into your face by your abuser, plus facing even <i>harsher</i> abuse because you dared to speak up. And then, what are the odds of being able to step forward a second, or third time, after that? Who's going to help you after you've been basically called a liar and thrown back into Hell by the very people who were supposed to help you?**</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But that's all so easy, right?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And that, friends, is only the first step in a lifetime of healing. But let me tell you, that first step is almost impossible to take alone, and it's even more impossible when you're being kicked in the gut every time you try to take it.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
America - STOP. Stop shaming the victim and start punishing the perpetrators. Stop making excuses and start educating our children to respect each other and each person's rights to their own bodies.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Bottom line, THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR RAPE, no matter what you want to call it.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: red;">**If you have been the victim of rape or sexual assault, please reach out. There are people and agencies out there who can help you - you DO NOT have to go through this alone, no matter what you may think or what anyone has told you.</span></i></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
<i><a href="https://rainn.org/get-help/national-sexual-assault-hotline" target="_blank">National Sexual Assault Hotline</a> 1.800.656.4673<br /><a href="http://www.nsvrc.org/" target="_blank">National Sexual Violence Resource Center</a><a href="http://www.trynova.org/about-us/overview/" target="_blank">National Organization for Victim Assistance</a><a href="http://www.vawnet.org/" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank">National Online Resource Center on Violence Against Women</a><a href="https://rainn.org/get-information/links" target="_blank">More Resources</a></i></h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-37231486727801914182016-02-16T18:57:00.000-08:002016-02-16T19:08:09.657-08:00Why Being Offended is a Huge Waste of Time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm sure you've noticed that, suddenly, everyone's pissed off at everyone else for everything. Small things, big things, things that don't personally pertain to them but they somehow have made themselves the center of a crusade that means and accomplishes nothing.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
That about sums it up, right? I'll bet some people are even pissed off at the title of this blog post.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Suck it.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
You want to know why?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Let me begin by formally defining the term for you. <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/offense?s=t" target="_blank">Dictionary.com says:</a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
Offense:</h2>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; line-height: 22px;">noun</i></h2>
<div class="def-set" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px; padding-bottom: 17px;">
<span class="def-number" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; float: left; padding-right: 5px; text-align: left;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i>1.</i></span></span><br />
<div class="def-content" style="box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 37px; text-align: left;">
<span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i><span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">a</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available" style="box-sizing: border-box;">violation</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">or</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available" style="box-sizing: border-box;">breaking</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">of</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">a</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available" style="box-sizing: border-box;">social</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">or</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">moral</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">rule;</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">transgression;</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">sin.</span></i></span></div>
</div>
<div class="def-set" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px; padding-bottom: 17px;">
<span class="def-number" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; float: left; padding-right: 5px; text-align: left;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i>2.</i></span></span><br />
<div class="def-content" style="box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 37px; text-align: left;">
<span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i><span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">a</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available" style="box-sizing: border-box;">transgression</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">of</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">the</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">law;</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available" style="box-sizing: border-box;">misdemeanor.</span></i></span></div>
</div>
<div class="def-set" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px; padding-bottom: 17px;">
<span class="def-number" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; float: left; padding-right: 5px; text-align: left;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i>3.</i></span></span><br />
<div class="def-content" style="box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 37px; text-align: left;">
<span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i><span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">a</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available" style="box-sizing: border-box;">cause</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">of</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available" style="box-sizing: border-box;">transgression</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">or</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">wrong.</span></i></span></div>
</div>
<div class="def-set" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px; padding-bottom: 17px;">
<span class="def-number" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; float: left; padding-right: 5px; text-align: left;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i>4.</i></span></span><br />
<div class="def-content" style="box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 37px; text-align: left;">
<span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i><span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available" style="box-sizing: border-box;">something</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">that</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available" style="box-sizing: border-box;">offends</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">or</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available" style="box-sizing: border-box;">displeases.</span></i></span></div>
</div>
<div class="def-set" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px; padding-bottom: 17px;">
<span class="def-number" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; float: left; padding-right: 5px; text-align: left;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i>5.</i></span></span><br />
<div class="def-content" style="box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 37px; text-align: left;">
<span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i><span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">the</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available" style="box-sizing: border-box;">act</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">of</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available" style="box-sizing: border-box;">offending</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">or</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available" style="box-sizing: border-box;">displeasing.</span></i></span></div>
</div>
<div class="def-set" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px; padding-bottom: 17px;">
<span class="def-number" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; float: left; padding-right: 5px; text-align: left;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i>6.</i></span></span><br />
<div class="def-content" style="box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 37px;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">the</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">feeling</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">of</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">resentful</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available" style="box-sizing: border-box;">displeasure</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available" style="box-sizing: border-box;">caused:</span></i></div>
<div class="def-block def-inline-example" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #979797; text-align: left;">
<span class="dbox-example" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i><span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">to</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">give</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">offense.</span></i></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="def-set" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px; padding-bottom: 17px;">
<span class="def-number" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; float: left; padding-right: 5px; text-align: left;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i>7.</i></span></span><br />
<div class="def-content" style="box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 37px;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">the</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">act</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">of</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">attacking;</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">attack</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">or</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available" style="box-sizing: border-box;">assault:</span></i></div>
<div class="def-block def-inline-example" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #979797; text-align: left;">
<span class="dbox-example" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><i><span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available" style="box-sizing: border-box;">weapons</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">of</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">offense.</span></i></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Okay guys, pay attention. When you're offended (ie: that bitch said my haircut was awful), the context of offense here is <i>something that offends or displeases (definitions 4 & 5)</i>. You might have <i>taken offense</i> at the bitch's statement (definition 6).</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://31.media.tumblr.com/2e8b4dd9074302238d6ccfdb05fed95d/tumblr_inline_o1qvllr0UV1slk8xa_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="189" src="https://31.media.tumblr.com/2e8b4dd9074302238d6ccfdb05fed95d/tumblr_inline_o1qvllr0UV1slk8xa_500.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Googled "offended." Was not disappointed.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Had said bitch tried to hold you down and lop your hair off because they didn't like the cut, that would have been a <i>violation or breaking of a social or moral rule (definitions 1, 2, or 3)</i>, or even possibly an <i>attack or assault (definition 7)</i>; a criminal offense. TOTALLY NOT THE SAME THING.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
One could even say that they were offended by your awful haircut, but that even further illustrates how silly the idea of being offended is.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://i.giphy.com/kR0S22SGVDm4o.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i.giphy.com/kR0S22SGVDm4o.gif" height="166" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I can do this all day, people.</i></div>
<br />
See, people have these things called <i>opinions</i>. <br />
<br />
The beautiful thing about opinions is that there's no law that says yours has to match anyone else's. Or even make any damn sense. And neither do anyone else's.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So, I could tell you that my opinion is that leggings are not freaking pants and that anyone who wears them without a shirt/dress long enough to cover their bottoms look like they forgot their pants altogether, and that opinion should profoundly affect absolutely no one. Some of you might be nodding your head in agreement right now, while others might be scoffing at the screen with their pantylines shouting from their uncovered, be-legginged bottoms, but no one's life will ever be dramatically changed by that statement. Don't like leggings? Don't wear them. Like wearing leggings? Rock those suckers. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
See what I did there?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My offense at someone else's choices has absolutely no value in that person's life. Conversely, I give approximately two rat turds about someone else's opinion about <i>my</i> choices. So rather than waste my time fuming over someone's very vocal objections to my random bursts of songs-that-maybe-loosely-have-something-to-do-with-what-someone-just-said, I simply move along with my life. I like randomly bursting into song, so who cares if not everyone appreciates that talent? Not me.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_7ZvIUaze0V8tc4PrwDvjoQwVqKbRO3tKXO4WTZw3dysszib_7KbpYcl487Lq_F00Wuid7EFXC0tpwDqjDwZv5L61-EgWpCjPAKkSvGObzyvPjNyBCY7UXn_Rt1ebW7qXLWfp/s1600/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_7ZvIUaze0V8tc4PrwDvjoQwVqKbRO3tKXO4WTZw3dysszib_7KbpYcl487Lq_F00Wuid7EFXC0tpwDqjDwZv5L61-EgWpCjPAKkSvGObzyvPjNyBCY7UXn_Rt1ebW7qXLWfp/s320/download.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i>It's not every day someone says, "I see a little silhouette-o of a man" in conversation, so you have to jump on that chance when it comes along.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
A viable reaction to a small offense should be confined to the equivalent of two syllables: Who cares? That's dumb.<span style="color: red;"> {censored} </span>you. Piss off. I disagree.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
... and then life goes on. See how easy that is?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHVwvdtxqKHq87CIDL1PDCGvp57x9bN16ZbU5jBkEb3gWMfxt_wRkdGw6H15F272iTjUc23Vvo1Ih4y3O1pv6jLNBfradRL_HJ1aSosmq7F03S-sVC5WScLE7TQQAq7qjB0fug/s1600/don-draper-shrug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHVwvdtxqKHq87CIDL1PDCGvp57x9bN16ZbU5jBkEb3gWMfxt_wRkdGw6H15F272iTjUc23Vvo1Ih4y3O1pv6jLNBfradRL_HJ1aSosmq7F03S-sVC5WScLE7TQQAq7qjB0fug/s400/don-draper-shrug.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Can't win 'em all.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Don't agree with gay marriage? Don't marry a gay person. Think Abercrombie & Fitch is a horrible place to shop because the troll that owns it thinks his merchandise is only fit for miniaturized modern-day Norse Gods? Don't shop there. Think Dunkin Donuts is an affront to pastry with their mutant abomination they call the "cronut?" There's a freaking Krispy Kreme right around the corner, for cripes sakes, just walk the extra half black for your plain-glazed yeast donuts. There's no need to picket and boycott because your deepest sensibilities are offended by the senseless creation of a hybrid pastry.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Don't like my singing? Here, I brought ear plugs.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
No one said we couldn't be considerate of other people's opinions, either.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: blue;"><i>You'll probably be disappointed to find out that there are no videos of my random singing on my </i><a href="http://conspiracy%20theories%20from%20the%20reality%20challenged/" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Facebook page</a><i>, but there's lots of other funny stuff. And probably plenty to offend you if you're one of </i>those<i> people.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-53198494294049417132016-01-03T17:38:00.000-08:002016-01-03T17:38:09.227-08:00I Don't Want to Live On This Planet Any More<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Fun Fact: When my posts are in the draft stages, they have totally different titles. These titles are more accurate descriptions of the posts themselves, so that I can more easily identify them if/when I need to go back to edit them. Some of them, due to my propensity to rant about everything without much of a filter and my desire to remain an active, productive member of society, never get published for public viewing. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This post, as of right now, is titled, "I don't want to live on this planet any more."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
If that gives you any idea what state of mind I'm in right now, then you have sufficient time to decide whether you want to stick it out and read this post or run screaming for your sanity.</div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFgUwZNxaIXoFkT000d2dxhucc23e0IOuJRIkdIT7QuPR-F6Gc6uiGXvfX3vJ1Jtmrp_9dyafCZo0MwG8T0oSAqU114wbPOskPfH1r9ibguKP-ervdPw4SKqnAvmXrksJO_Od/s1600/JEOPARDY-RAGE-FACE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFgUwZNxaIXoFkT000d2dxhucc23e0IOuJRIkdIT7QuPR-F6Gc6uiGXvfX3vJ1Jtmrp_9dyafCZo0MwG8T0oSAqU114wbPOskPfH1r9ibguKP-ervdPw4SKqnAvmXrksJO_Od/s400/JEOPARDY-RAGE-FACE.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I'll take "Nope" for $1,000, Alex.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I rant a lot about the stupidity of people. Oh my Flying Spaghetti Monster. SO MUCH. (See there? PC religious reference. I'm not totally tactless.)</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And it's not that I can't overlook or forgive an occasional slip, hell, I do stupid shit all the time. I don't expect anyone to be perfect, but for the love of gluten, I do expect people to tap into their God-given common sense just <i>once in a while</i>. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
Side Chick/Dick is Pissed Because She/He Found Out She's/He's Not the Only Side Chick/Dick.</h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Wut.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
First of all, isn't it cute how people have decided to give this some cute name, like it's not totally the same as having an affair and being a complete cheater, cheater, someone else's pumpkin eater? And they're not even the "mistress" or the "lover" anymore, they're the "side" person. So... the spouse is the main dish and you're f*cking mashed potatoes or corn. Or, like, the cole slaw, because some people might hide to eat it in secret as a guilty pleasure but no one will admit to actually liking the stuff. <br />
<br />
Lovely.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So let's break this down: you're sleeping with someone who's clearly in a relationship with someone else. K. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In the process of sleeping with said someone, you discover that you're not the only extracurricular they've decided to secretly share their naughty bits with. That cheating bastard!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp5jcGHdSBKmudlZFM47JuvXwgIdFj2g5CgzA_M4otdTaPQCwd77EItSsFWAd6oY_cuelxWSO3MRTCCk5xXX4hd-44a877EPYJH4_EgxGaCspxMqnW3wFfzrjq1FojOjJ3zulL/s1600/f54eb8a70d58c1c8dbce0a8f739292cb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp5jcGHdSBKmudlZFM47JuvXwgIdFj2g5CgzA_M4otdTaPQCwd77EItSsFWAd6oY_cuelxWSO3MRTCCk5xXX4hd-44a877EPYJH4_EgxGaCspxMqnW3wFfzrjq1FojOjJ3zulL/s400/f54eb8a70d58c1c8dbce0a8f739292cb.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Pictured: The human brain being bombarded with stupid. Where's the damn rum already?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So... how does that work, exactly?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Is there, like, an occupancy limit? I was totally going somewhere with like a "you must be this tall to ride" joke, but it derailed somewhere in there. It was much funnier in my head.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Do I really have to explain this? Really?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Just... Just grow some damn self esteem and exit the F Train already, clearly you're not the only one with an all-access pass, and a sticky second-hand one, at that. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
....Ew.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
Porn is Gross... Have You Read the New 50 Shades Novel?</h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Um.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Full disclosure, I haven't read any of these books. Namely because I had to accept about a billion of them in a buyback program, from ladies in their *ahem* later years, all with broken bindings and a few pages suspiciously stuck together. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://replygif.net/i/132.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://replygif.net/i/132.gif" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I lost 30 pounds that month.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
...So... and I'm just going by what other people have told me here... a sex-torture basement, complete with a "contract" that allows all kinds of squishy, spanky, whippy sociopathic sex games, is totally romantic so long as it involves a handsome rich guy. <br />
<br />
Call me crazy, but remove the trust fund and a few tooth veneers, throw in a trailer and maybe a couple broken-down cars on blocks or something, and it sounds like a pretty epic episode of 60 Minutes to me.<br />
<br />
Can you ... Can you imagine? Some random dude walks up to you and insinuates that he wants you to <i>sign a contract</i> that allows him to cart you off to his isolated place of residence somewhere in Deliverance and do everything to you short of Buffalo Bill-ing your skin off your bones and you... swoon?<br />
<br />
NO. LADIES. I'M SERIOUS. PAY ATTENTION. THIS IS NOT ROMANCE. ABORT! ABORT! KICK THIS MAN IN THE BALLS AND RUN AS FAR, AS FAST, AS SWIFTLY AS YOUR ACHING, VOLUPTUOUS LEGS CAN CARRY YOU, WHILST DIALING EVERY LAW ENFORCEMENT NUMBER YOU CAN THINK OF. TWICE.<br />
<br />
THIS IS NOT NORMAL.<br />
<br />
YES, I'M YELLING. IT'S IMPORTANT. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9jnIdGXYaY3OLuZVRmJ2BUkh-ercIzT2Mjx6so2waS-j2_Xh75MWhIoTYuEE1sZjyf0rGY4H_wbrqxNElpMtSkI0skRFkIIJlLAmik87ku_FupPtLBDrjcQedkmS189yuSh2K/s1600/download+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9jnIdGXYaY3OLuZVRmJ2BUkh-ercIzT2Mjx6so2waS-j2_Xh75MWhIoTYuEE1sZjyf0rGY4H_wbrqxNElpMtSkI0skRFkIIJlLAmik87ku_FupPtLBDrjcQedkmS189yuSh2K/s320/download+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>WHIPS? CHAINS? COLLARS AND CUFFS? YOU COULD HAVE JUST SAID PLEASE, JACKA**!</i></div>
<br />
<br />
Even Charlie Hunnam wouldn't have sold me on that sh*t. Are you f*cking insane? <br />
<br />
Oh, and ladies - it's totally porn. Can we just stop pretending that women don't do that already?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: blue;"><span style="background-color: white;">The views and opinions expressed in this blog post are totally the views and opinions of the author. To argue, complain, virtually high-five, or verbally throat-punch the author, stalk her on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/realitychallenged" target="_blank">Facebook</a>. You know you want to. </span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-24567219045995473892015-12-28T21:36:00.003-08:002015-12-28T21:36:50.356-08:00Youth Really is Wasted on the Young<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The other day, I was musing about how bad it sucks that, as an adult, my body doesn't want to do all the things I promised it that it would way back when I was young and ambitious. I mean, I'd love to live on Cheetos and Hi-C, but that sh*t doesn't even <i>taste</i> as good now as it did when I was a kid. What the hell? And in the odd case that I ever (and I totally have) tried to actually eat that crap for a day or two, my stomach goes totally rogue and I pay in disgusting, uncomfortable, and absolutely unmentionable ways.</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://media.giphy.com/media/xTiTnsiwoxekWiNQ3u/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://media.giphy.com/media/xTiTnsiwoxekWiNQ3u/giphy.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i>Kids, this is your future. Yes, this.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Later on, I was watching an episode of Supernatural where Sam's childhood imaginary friend shows up, bringing with him the gift of marshmallow nachos and some other crazy array of food combinations that could only have been dreamed up either by a child, or by someone on some weird cross-wire high of weed and beer munchies. </div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And I thought, THAT'S why kids have stomachs of steel and no income, and adults have jobs and finicky, easily offended digestive tracks - because if it were any other way, we'd all be working solely for Twinkies and Doritos and the economy would just totally collapse. Seriously, why piece together a well-rounded, healthy meal of grilled chicken, some kind of fancy-schmancy potatoes, and broccoli, when you can have 5-layer Snickers-Reeses-chocolate fudge cake creme pie burritos? And not hate yourself the next day. Right? We'd be living the plotline of WALL-E and it would be just terrible.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3RjqVDaLWDgevlFpyLlgb_xSYRz3-LwmqvRYnRF4kwXh5O2HJlLX6hne41w5r9KY8jwuc_dv95vAlfUtGIEwFtLIB1051hm_L79THODyOGYwfSrKUTzJnDsaCwR5uxTqtTx4w/s1600/WALL-E-382.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3RjqVDaLWDgevlFpyLlgb_xSYRz3-LwmqvRYnRF4kwXh5O2HJlLX6hne41w5r9KY8jwuc_dv95vAlfUtGIEwFtLIB1051hm_L79THODyOGYwfSrKUTzJnDsaCwR5uxTqtTx4w/s640/WALL-E-382.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>WALL-E only looks sad because he doesn't have any taste buds.</i></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
...At least, that's what I'm going to tell myself when I'm wondering how much of a cheesecake my lactose-intolerant self could gnosh with a serving spoon whilst hiding in the kitchen alone without feeling complete and utter soul-crushing shame.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Kids also have the basic metabolism of a squirrel. It doesn't matter how many chocolate bars, milk shakes, or french fries they suck into their face holes - they'll just run circles around the neighborhood a few times like Sonic the Hedgehog on crack, collapse into a sleeping pile of munchkin in some weird position and in the most uncomfortable looking place, and never gain an ounce. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Nothing on this planet gives adults that amount of energy. At least, nothing legal, and nothing that won't rot your teeth out and/or land you in prison for trying to eat some random drifter's face. That's how drugs work, right? Screw that. Random drifter face tastes awful.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTGYL6ma2rEvWj2PNULyPVqCgIO5eNJ1t_Sk9a6vXPQt15-AmO9kJJhwM5KLT5lLXLfHzHy3PPp6CQPaj59c4rNKWHhDPVPECi9yci4j0FiGYspo3YKUh4PudHfquiv2G3dIhu/s1600/the-walking-dead-zombie-killings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTGYL6ma2rEvWj2PNULyPVqCgIO5eNJ1t_Sk9a6vXPQt15-AmO9kJJhwM5KLT5lLXLfHzHy3PPp6CQPaj59c4rNKWHhDPVPECi9yci4j0FiGYspo3YKUh4PudHfquiv2G3dIhu/s320/the-walking-dead-zombie-killings.jpg" width="308" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Drugs are bad, mmmkay?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So how is it fair that, as parents, we have on our hands these tiny little Tasmanian Devils but nothing that allows us the energy and stamina to keep up with them? Oh, right - diet and exercise, huh. How is that fair? Here, little one, your energy comes from delicious chocolate and sugar-laden nummyness, and I have to get mine in minuscule doses from coffee, dry animal carcass, and vegetables that smell like feet and give me gas? That's our reward for surviving this long? And we get to live even longer in this Hell if we eat right and exercise? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
No, I don't want a salad. Have you ever ordered a salad at a restaurant? It's like a dollar's worth of different colored fibers masquerading as different vegetables atop a pile of water leafs for like $8. Wut. That's not food, that's what food <i>eats</i>. Bring me a slab of cow with a side of pig and follow it up with some kind of gelled/baked/caramelized sugar. And yes, the cow can still be mooing. Bring me a harpoon and a stein of something dark and malted. We're hunters, people, not rabbits. I don't want to live to be 100 if I have to do it nibbling on fiber kibble like a damned gerbil.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb7Saixgp-zZnSUa5rDMDp8hwOgxrKZB07q3P4AFzSXiBQQlVzP3FuOQ1KOz69Wetv0etJChCKFDDNFg1VDMtwfkpKGuPbKce4XmIsO4RTsE7ouHCRIbfulLDpYmlXvDkfS2L2/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb7Saixgp-zZnSUa5rDMDp8hwOgxrKZB07q3P4AFzSXiBQQlVzP3FuOQ1KOz69Wetv0etJChCKFDDNFg1VDMtwfkpKGuPbKce4XmIsO4RTsE7ouHCRIbfulLDpYmlXvDkfS2L2/s320/images.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>If anyone ever opens a restaurant like this, hit me up. I'm there.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Can we also talk about this whole nap thing? Kids don't want naps. There's too much going on, they might miss something, why waste your time on sleep? Adults want naps. Just five minutes. Just... just let me lay my head on this desk here and... nope. I remember when I functioned best with 2, 3 hours of sleep. Now, I can't get enough. 8 hours, my a**. Not that I could fit in 8 hours if I wanted to. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Who designed this system? Who do I write to to complain? Obviously, things are severely backwards and I want it fixed. Also, steak. I want steak.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: blue;">Do you also dream of plates filled with still-mooing, bacon-drenched bovine deliciousness? Follow me on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/realitychallenged" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, you beautiful person, you, and let us dream together. Oh, and I write other stuff, too.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-76835667297265836222015-11-04T21:27:00.001-08:002015-11-04T21:27:30.245-08:00Generation Gaps and Selfies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My name is Sandra, and I am 33 years old.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I went to school when the <span style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dewey_Decimal_Classification" target="_blank"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;">Dewey Decimal System</span></a><span style="color: cyan;"> </span></span>was on its last legs as an integral part of high school research, before the ease of Google and pre-written term papers you could purchase online for the low, low price of $19.99 and a disciplinary mark on your college transcript for plagiarism.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Cell phones has jussst barrrely inched their way past glorified bricks that only rich people could afford and become indestructible flip-top abominations that had infinite battery life, so long as you kept it stocked with pre-paid minutes.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaNka9DeZZ7owswoD-ZTbJ7kne2FyF-LXHnLb_Lpl_9F5SRvSXfOrDmknSEVnBtXEQ50JVHC-h9NwrTnMt8hH1y_nARQPM65eyKw_PjV2kK1dB6AjU0txq_Oherlkgzy5mYnc-/s1600/download+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaNka9DeZZ7owswoD-ZTbJ7kne2FyF-LXHnLb_Lpl_9F5SRvSXfOrDmknSEVnBtXEQ50JVHC-h9NwrTnMt8hH1y_nARQPM65eyKw_PjV2kK1dB6AjU0txq_Oherlkgzy5mYnc-/s400/download+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>This was the level of cool that 90's kids could only dream to achieve, guys. No, really. </i></div>
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
AOL Online sent everyone free frisbie/coaster discs almost daily, the internet could not be accessed without a two-hour wait that brought with it a mind-crunching noise and an unusable phone line, and the world had just discovered the sparkling, endless-page, unicorn poop encrusted world of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yahoo!_GeoCities" target="_blank"><span style="color: #674ea7;">Geocities</span></a>. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
P.S. For all you younger readers, I've included linkies to the Wikipedia pages for each of those ancient relics above, so you can understand the struggle that was life before the 2000's. Back in our day, we got to hear about how we didn't have it so bad, because our parents walked 50 miles in 15 feet of snow at 3 o'clock in the morning. With no shoes on. Apparently an entire generation survived a shoeless, year-long, country-wide blizzard.<br />
<br />
This is our version. You mad because you can't download your porn in under 15 seconds? My generation had to sneak their parent's vintage porn mags, or stand on top of their tv when they were supposed to be sleeping, hang upside down wile holding a jury-rigged aluminum foil wrapped <strike>antenna</strike> wire clothes hanger, and squint really hard to maybe see a might-be naughty bit through a scrambled cable station.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH14Di4jVjSbi_F-i2m-_Cfp_685piRNNYab0QnVP5LunhRf1X-i5kkokw53UDa7-b85ZSxQqiPwx4yKrl8xpgY37EC2h63EXKZ9lDRAlw6185MSeRwR2UdKSpdjee2TDaEX-w/s1600/12613982.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH14Di4jVjSbi_F-i2m-_Cfp_685piRNNYab0QnVP5LunhRf1X-i5kkokw53UDa7-b85ZSxQqiPwx4yKrl8xpgY37EC2h63EXKZ9lDRAlw6185MSeRwR2UdKSpdjee2TDaEX-w/s1600/12613982.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>We were "ghetto" before "ghetto" was a thing. Yes, that's a television. Why isn't it flat? That's called a tube tele - you know what? Nevermind. </i></div>
<br />
<br />
In other words, kids, we had to use our imaginations. Our IMAGINATIONS! 90% of the kids that grew up before the Internet age thought the final evolution of our naughty bits would look like scrambly blocks of static, at least until our first year of Sex Ed. Like maybe what Minecraft would look like if you suffered a concussion and chugged 5 bottles of Vodka in a sippy cup.<br />
<br />
Or what a SIM character looks like when it steps out of the shower.<br />
<br />
Makes more sense now, doesn't it?<br />
<br />
Also, NEVER Google "naked SIM character." Not even, "<i>censored</i> naked SIM character." On the plus side, I'll bet my Google search history is both confusing and very, very entertaining. Just saying. It is, however, becoming more and more difficult to convince my boyfriend that the entirety of my weird search history has to do with this blog.<br />
<br />
Anyway.<br />
<br />
You mad because you had to spend a couple hours Googling Wikipedia references for your school essay? We had to shuffle through books, reading through hours and days and weeks' worth of indexes and excerpts, taking careful notes, in a real life library to retrieve information pertinent to whatever we had to write about. And then we had to credit those references - with citations. <i>Citations</i>, guys! <br />
<br />
For the record, it's not the technology that befuddles me. It's the sudden obsession with documenting Every. Single. Second. of Every. Single. Day.<br />
<br />
Once upon a time, a person could eat an omelet and not feel the need to Instagram their culinary feast. They could attempt a new hairstyle, do horribly, and try to hide the evidence, rather than Pinterest the fail. Their friends could find out at their next gathering that they tanned a little too long and made like a lobster, instead of scrolling past a picture of it with half-interest on their Facebook feed amongst all the political rants and Kim Kardashian memes.<br />
<br />
Speaking of pictures - O.M.GEEE. SO MANY PICTURES!<br />
<br />
When I was a kid, we had one of those Polaroid cameras that spit out a white-rimmed, not-yet developed picture. If my mother is any indication, in order to get the picture to show up, you had to shake it vigorously for a few minutes, blow on it a couple times, chant some kind of happy picture spell, and avoid touching anything but the white parts, lest you lose a finger at the hands of an irate mother. <br />
<br />
Bad picture? Bad pose? Better suck it up, Buttercup - you're stuck with a candid of you making a funny face while your brother does something embarrassing in the background, forever nestled into the family album for all eternity, because the film and flash bulbs for those things were <i>expensive</i>. <br />
<br />
Or, that one picture your parents took when you were 8, when your dad made you sit <strike>next to</strike> cuddled up to a creepy and totally racially insensitive stuffed Native American that, for some reason, was just sitting randomly on a bench in the middle of a museum. My parents thought it was hilarious. My face clearly shows a mixture of horror, nausea, and sudden homicidal tendencies. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwlN_r1SVG7G-Gze9pn1oDIyOaMLXJIwHr-xoa5zD1FGEbAfOeBsrcErMscygYkCwl45hg0kbpfEwEdv9yKIkqKpRjFvZlKR9G3RdtmRVG4XWWNi8HtMANhk5TmHNoa046fgpl/s1600/download+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwlN_r1SVG7G-Gze9pn1oDIyOaMLXJIwHr-xoa5zD1FGEbAfOeBsrcErMscygYkCwl45hg0kbpfEwEdv9yKIkqKpRjFvZlKR9G3RdtmRVG4XWWNi8HtMANhk5TmHNoa046fgpl/s320/download+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I wanted to share that picture with you to illustrate one of the many seeds of my cynicism, but my Mom guards those albums like they're a national treasure. Possibly because she knows there's a risk of an unfortunate fire mishap, but still.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Instead, here's a sloth selfie.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i></i> Ugh, selfies. I'm not calling out anyone who takes selfies, I'm really not - I just don't get it. I never look at myself in a mirror and think, "dayum, I look <i>good</i> today. It would be a total disservice not to share this with the world." </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Besides, I'm not a totally unattractive chick, but the few times I've accidentally opened the camera on my phone and discovered the the view has flipped to face me, it looks more like this:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3R3w28CxwyHAj4GOqKQ6AiBHK7b5WopRnymFdUgVnO2EueS9_G4dqTtv4yJgg8a2Hb57FtmwA_4O9LkRSq45FqchizXJ6uEgsgKBJShQqzIZhHr8dzorOfLOVWRsX9YBwvI55/s1600/download+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3R3w28CxwyHAj4GOqKQ6AiBHK7b5WopRnymFdUgVnO2EueS9_G4dqTtv4yJgg8a2Hb57FtmwA_4O9LkRSq45FqchizXJ6uEgsgKBJShQqzIZhHr8dzorOfLOVWRsX9YBwvI55/s400/download+%25283%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Even sloth up there is better at taking selfies than me.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And when I try to pose for a selfie, I always manage to be making this face:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi57_Zd04AjcmNQK7T00Pafmiwwa4RMnvO2LvVamjILzC-rFBIhU4mKp2Jx8KVcFxbfwE8Rza8ho3sSj_aJisqBiSOfoL1U6tAUWsYY3yl_fHXOFpRly81rjxwZvWXhdJpKsvQw/s1600/images+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi57_Zd04AjcmNQK7T00Pafmiwwa4RMnvO2LvVamjILzC-rFBIhU4mKp2Jx8KVcFxbfwE8Rza8ho3sSj_aJisqBiSOfoL1U6tAUWsYY3yl_fHXOFpRly81rjxwZvWXhdJpKsvQw/s320/images+%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Dammit, No Shave November.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Okay, so I really just hate people who can take a bajillion good selfies. Photogenic people, who have some kind of Barney Stenson superpower where they can be making the most God-awful face, mid-sneeze, slipping on a freaking banana peel and still look like a supermodel. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I have the opposite superpower - the one where I can look amazing in the mirror and be smiling my prettiest smile or rocking my best resting bitch face, and I look like I'm mid-sneeze slipping on a freaking banana peel.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7McWDfVdWilgKnLd6smjUOfk1tH72xpE2SWh8QzGxsh8iJP96I1HvXF1E8pmkiO6GqeM4A2mJaSitKoKANy0RJ2iVO2wSYFn-jIssm3kWFbcANRlQX8UBcg4d5tCrNbAvIKMM/s1600/bits-r-us-net-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7McWDfVdWilgKnLd6smjUOfk1tH72xpE2SWh8QzGxsh8iJP96I1HvXF1E8pmkiO6GqeM4A2mJaSitKoKANy0RJ2iVO2wSYFn-jIssm3kWFbcANRlQX8UBcg4d5tCrNbAvIKMM/s320/bits-r-us-net-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>How is that even fair?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-61411750053749784982015-10-20T20:31:00.000-07:002015-10-20T20:38:23.024-07:005 Realities of Big Boobs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Eloquent title, eh?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I know I reference boobs a lot in my posts, and I've already somewhat ranted once before about the <a href="http://ctrcmain.blogspot.com/2015/01/why-i-suck-at-being-girl.html" target="_blank">obnoxious shit that women have to put up with</a> thanks to America's unsettling obsession with boobs.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But here's the thing: I've been putting up with judgment and stupid assumptions based solely on my chest size since I was eight years old. Eight. Let that sink in for a minute.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
As of right now, Victoria's Secret doesn't carry bras in my size. Victoria's Secret. I'ma just leave that one there for now, as well. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
To the best of my knowledge, the consensus is that if a woman has large breasts, any cleavage whatsoever amounts to "showing off," "asking for it," "begging for attention," "being a whore," and any other number of not-so-nice assumptions. Boobs covered? Awesome - but if your top happens to be form-fitting <i>at all</i> (ie: not a shapeless tent), all of the above apply.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwO_ZXdRVj0sN32cATI7ZeN-VcRjGVhNTouFRn5P12HssX73fWxixu0w7keRZTiYzRXBJJyYkguVebEPu9NbA_z0pS46iEXF3xXJPIw2XY16OaqtVsVuczM2PSxoMmHW2dTTFI/s1600/c66b3e631bad470d051210d9191efdb2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwO_ZXdRVj0sN32cATI7ZeN-VcRjGVhNTouFRn5P12HssX73fWxixu0w7keRZTiYzRXBJJyYkguVebEPu9NbA_z0pS46iEXF3xXJPIw2XY16OaqtVsVuczM2PSxoMmHW2dTTFI/s400/c66b3e631bad470d051210d9191efdb2.jpg" width="291" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The only acceptable attire for women with a bust size over a B-cup, apparently.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And so, dear readers, I present to you an educational rant about what it's really like to have comically large boobies in today's society.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
1: "Modesty" Has a Different Set of Rules for Large-Breasted Women.</h3>
If I had a quarter for every time I've been accused of being an attention whore (or just a whore) for wearing comfortable clothes, I'd own every arcade, pool table, and claw machine that ever existed throughout history.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Quick question: It's 110 degrees outside, what do you grab to wear? A tee shirt? A cami? A muscle shirt? For most people, all of the above are acceptable. For someone whose boobs have their own gravitational pull, that scenario brings on an anxiety-filled quest to find something that will sufficiently cover but won't boil them alive in pools of their own sweat. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Clothes that fit properly are almost impossible to find, because it seems that unless you live in California, clothing manufacturers seem to think that a woman larger than a C cup must also weigh more than 300 pounds. Small, Medium, Large, and Extra Large sizes translate to, "LOL," "You're Joking, Right," "Maybe if I Tape Down My Boobs," and "Crap, I skipped right into Mumu territory."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Here's a fun experiment if you don't believe me - shove a couple of cantaloupes down your shirt and secure them in place with some duct tape. (I'll give you a minute to giggle about the "melon" joke that just popped into your head). It's okay if they're uneven; the more accurate the better. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Now, go into any clothing store and try on as many womens' shirts, in as many sizes and as many styles as you can. After a few hours of unsuccessfully finding something that actually fits, untangle yourself from whatever mass of fabric you've got wrapped around your neck and arms, and realize that you've just learned a valuable lesson - because congratulations, now you know the circus that is clothes shopping for a large-breasted woman.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6wzm34DA_TTB0ytZrC16naS278Ni2mydvd8z-ngBeZWFIbPgnxadttX7-lWFZS8KkpXmq20WkKVNppjRTQe_H0ouMAQELRLE5492Y5Qpg_0gEUNIjHIvUTpP9CZbSP30Qh3fQ/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6wzm34DA_TTB0ytZrC16naS278Ni2mydvd8z-ngBeZWFIbPgnxadttX7-lWFZS8KkpXmq20WkKVNppjRTQe_H0ouMAQELRLE5492Y5Qpg_0gEUNIjHIvUTpP9CZbSP30Qh3fQ/s400/images.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>This is the face of a man who has just learned far more about himself than he ever needed to know.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So before you give me a lecture about being immodest because I have some cleavage showing, let me remind you that, in context and comparatively speaking, I'm not showing any more skin than Miss training bra over there whose muscle tee is showing every inch of skin between and on the sides of her non-boobs. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
2: Yes, They're Real, and No, You Can't Touch Them.</h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Again, the idea seems to be that breast size is indicative of sluttiness. I'm going to break this to you as easily as I can: this IS NOT TRUE. A woman can be loose whether she's flat-chested or heavily endowed, and the same is true for women who will punch you in the throat if you so much as insinuate the urge to motorboat her the second you meet her.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Crazy, I know.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Also - just for the record - breast size does not in any way correlate to a woman's IQ. Kate Upton might be able to rocket-science your rear end all the way back to the Stone Age, you don't know. So the next time you're speaking to a well-endowed female, resist the urge to make smacking noises, honking gestures, or slow your speech like you're speaking to a mentally challenged toddler. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQnVZ6FpWDgtEANU7LsQKdlVqJPl7xSrjsYvY-aZZzFBufe0mMzn3Lk5XhcQgoQgZAy07ARNU4s0iVzZtW-K9GOd3EOy0PEPmWHGrzGJ2VuGZ990w7xPFDgFRV10EL-xumj66v/s1600/liar_liar_a_wish_come_true.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQnVZ6FpWDgtEANU7LsQKdlVqJPl7xSrjsYvY-aZZzFBufe0mMzn3Lk5XhcQgoQgZAy07ARNU4s0iVzZtW-K9GOd3EOy0PEPmWHGrzGJ2VuGZ990w7xPFDgFRV10EL-xumj66v/s400/liar_liar_a_wish_come_true.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>...and this is a man's face that's about to be rearranged.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Lastly, large breasts don't automatically mean that a woman has had any kind of plastic surgery. Genetics are a fickle beast, and do you honestly think that if I had tens of thousands of dollars just laying around, I would use them to let someone cut me open and move all my lady bits around like some deranged Mrs. Potatohead?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Whatever, I'm going to Disney Land, b*tches. They'll probably even let me in free if I dress up like Jessica Rabbit.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
3: No, We Don't Just Love All the Attention.</h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Ladies, it's not our fault that boobs act as eye-magnets for anything in the general vicinity that has a penis attached to it (and sometimes a vagina). </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's not enjoyable to try to have a conversation with someone who wouldn't be able to tell us what color our eyes are if they had a gun to their heads, because they seem totally incapable of looking anywhere above collar-bone level. This applies to straight women too, because for some reason that I have yet to put my finger on, boobs are just somehow magically mesmerizing. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's downright infuriating for no one to remember your actual name, instead dubbing you things like, "darlin,'" "Little Lady," and "Boobs McGee." </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It sucks to not have many female friends who don't secretly pray for you to get sudden-onset breast cancer, or to have a whole bunch of male friends who do nothing but desperately try not to get friend-zoned. It takes years of self loathing to come to terms with the fact that many people only befriend you because they either don't trust you or they're only trying to get into your pants - and even longer to fully trust anyone who isn't in either one of those categories. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's not fun to have women you don't even know hate you because their men stare two seconds too long, and it's soul crushing for your entire worth to boil down to something as superficial as the size of your breasts.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Let's also not forget that it isn't just grown women who are ostracized for having large breasts - young girls have to deal with it, too. Remember when I told you I've been putting up with this crap since I was 8? That's right - imagine the stares, the whispered innuendos, the straight-up pick up lines from grown-ass men - at an age when you're not even totally sure what sex <i>is</i> yet. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
If I sound bitter, it's because I am, a little. Totally unrelated to my hair color or bust size, I'm freaking awesome. It's exhausting constantly trying to fight through all the superficial nonsense just to get someone to see who you really are <i>as a person</i>.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Also, my eyes are up here. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
*sigh*</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://rs1133.pbsrc.com/albums/m594/Nicole_Hernandez/Reactions/eyeroll_buffy.gif~c200" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://rs1133.pbsrc.com/albums/m594/Nicole_Hernandez/Reactions/eyeroll_buffy.gif~c200" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>So what I was saying is that the Schrodinger Wave Equation is a postulate ... Oh, forget it.</i><br />
<i><br /></i></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
</h3>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
4: Boobs Hurt, and Gravity Is Not Your Friend.</h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Aside from self-esteem and feelings, having big breasts takes its toll physically - namely the back and shoulders. I have no idea what boobs actually weigh, but believe me when I tell you that it probably take at least twice as much effort for a large-breasted woman to maintain good posture than it does for anyone else. Then there's the issue of shoulder-grooves from bra straps, and chronic lower-back pain.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
While we're on the subject, can I bring up the fact that the damned things get in the way ALL. THE. TIME.? Can I put that out there? Because until you've had to literally cross your arms to hold your boobs down to run, or woken in pain in the middle of the night because you've managed to roll over sideways onto one of your boobs and squished the holy hell out of it, or had to sneak off into a side room to relocate each boob to its designated area because they've decided to unite and morph into one giant uniboob or just escape altogether, you don't know the struggle. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And the struggle is real, folks. I've knocked things over trying to pass through small spaces or reach over one things to get to another, I've dunked my boobs into dishes of food trying to reach across the table for salt, and I've actually almost lit a boob on fire reaching for something that was sitting on the back of the stove.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Those comics about the old lady that said she thought she was having a heart attack until she realized she was standing on her boobs - that shit's not funny. Which brings me to the fact that unless you're Bimbo Number 1 in every porno ever made, anything over probably a D-cup ARE NOT PERKY. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I hate to break it to you gentlemen, but real boobs just don't work that way. It doesn't matter if the woman is 21 or 121, there aren't enough chest muscles in the human body to support that much boob. That's not to say that it's normal for boobs to dangle at knee level or anything, but let's be realistic here. This is why breast augmentation is a billion dollar industry. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIAD3i7_YweH0xyebGhqe5wr2q0i3nKLg72VOuDH3h9OTaFJ3AJ51msiaavZhvEUy8idpyCv5YBPKzrHqGutIATATY9P8ybD7NZaWp-yF_lFcgLgIKbN354BK6m_p7yh-3gRXx/s1600/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIAD3i7_YweH0xyebGhqe5wr2q0i3nKLg72VOuDH3h9OTaFJ3AJ51msiaavZhvEUy8idpyCv5YBPKzrHqGutIATATY9P8ybD7NZaWp-yF_lFcgLgIKbN354BK6m_p7yh-3gRXx/s320/download.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Yes, this too, but you're missing the point - oh, forget it.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Funny side story, aside from the fact that now I'll have to explain to my boyfriend why I now have Kate Upton's Sports Illustrated cover saved to the computer - when I worked at Hastings, we had like a billion of these delivered for sale in our store when they came out. They were in at least a dozen places around the store. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Someone came through every single day and turned them all backwards. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And so, every single day, I'd go back through and flip them all forward again. Just doing my job? You betcha. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't giggling the whole time about whoever it was coming back into the store and being bombarded by Kate Upton's half-boobs and realizing that their attempts at censoring them were futile, like the boob demons were taunting them and their offended puritan senses.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
BAHAHAHAHAHA, boobs.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
5: Women Have Breasts. Deal With It.</h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This is more of a summary than anything, but for goodness' sakes people, boobs are boobs are boobs. All women have them. Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEharaETt4fpF-xQgqor-Wr0H5Y0BHz2Ec-oSzY4y56SnBE481Sk7sYepxu-lNIpGXwtac72YQ1L2GhpoopX4dDfVBurEjUpg61eUzfma8FKJGmzOe61IHQy0Xr_W7_qekknIX6r/s1600/tumblr_lfakormBmT1qe5p1no1_1280.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEharaETt4fpF-xQgqor-Wr0H5Y0BHz2Ec-oSzY4y56SnBE481Sk7sYepxu-lNIpGXwtac72YQ1L2GhpoopX4dDfVBurEjUpg61eUzfma8FKJGmzOe61IHQy0Xr_W7_qekknIX6r/s320/tumblr_lfakormBmT1qe5p1no1_1280.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Sorry, I've been spending a lot of time with my kids lately.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Anywho, boobs, breasts, yabos, gonzagas - they're only offensive if you allow them to be, and you only allow them to be if you're thinking of them in terms you probably shouldn't be thinking of to begin with.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'd keep going with this, but I'm pretty sure I lost at least half my audience on that Kate Upton cover up there...</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Oh, forget it.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-28728812950959107932015-09-28T19:29:00.003-07:002015-09-28T19:29:49.846-07:005 Easy Steps to Becoming Awesome<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I FINALLY got my computer back up and running (shout out to the awesome resident computer tech).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeAwyX-5Fevpzg-gHcY-2wqFXRw5yh_CQQ9a_JGGHXNNQ1pHMSopXJ_P1O0OGNukwxCyNjUcAcNwIxpdkNgS3h70SWzYPwB1UeCSW7fFONaypKk7Yb5nOFnN6TlwVQTQPZsGuI/s1600/homer-computer-woohoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeAwyX-5Fevpzg-gHcY-2wqFXRw5yh_CQQ9a_JGGHXNNQ1pHMSopXJ_P1O0OGNukwxCyNjUcAcNwIxpdkNgS3h70SWzYPwB1UeCSW7fFONaypKk7Yb5nOFnN6TlwVQTQPZsGuI/s400/homer-computer-woohoo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Pictured: NOT the resident computer tech. I just think Homer's hilarious.</i></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
... I have to interrupt my post here, since my train of thought is being derailed by the sound of a car alarm going off for twenty minutes straight at a quarter til midnight and <i>for the love of God and all that is holy there is a f*cking button on your keys that makes it stop.</i></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://media0.giphy.com/media/WjIV2xPlXawz6/200.gif?w=780" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://media0.giphy.com/media/WjIV2xPlXawz6/200.gif?w=780" height="218" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>....OR. I'm just sayin.'</i></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This is actually perfect timing, because there are some of you out there staring at that gif, horrified that I might actually take a baseball bat to someone's personal property just because it's annoying the hell out of me and dammit I'm the one who has to wake up cranky kids for school in 6 hours.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="text-align: left;">STEP 1 to Becoming Awesome: GROW A SENSE OF HUMOR.</span></h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
If you have a Facebook page, you're probably one of four types of people:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<ol>
<li>The person who rarely logs in and only logs in long enough to check messages and check out recipes and the occasional funny cat video;</li>
<li>The person who logs into Facebook solely to play games, which results in the rest of us being spammed to death with game invites that you probably didn't even send;</li>
<li>The person who loyally likes and shares all the cool stuff your friends post but rarely posts anything yourself; or</li>
<li>The person who uses Facebook as a platform for all your family updates, rants, jokes, opinions, and photos of really cool shit you write/draw/craft, etc.</li>
</ol>
<div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Anywho, Facebook houses all kinds of snarky, smart ass memes that garner everything from the typical "lol" to the infuriating "OMGEEE WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?" That's sexist! That's racist! How insensitive! You're promoting unnecessary violence and I really want to punch you in the face right now! </div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's not just Facebook, it's any forum, discussion board, or random life encounter. Most people have properly-functioning funny bones and understand that sociopaths only make up a small percentage of the population, and they're generally not wasting their time cracking jokes. </div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy71D8bUJ4TrRlKzWxmubD2pPBLmSoBaehrJ7fYcp2MdjFKWewZs7PI7u7CGjeU6rDnnoPeI_K8EGasLDHgTkK8PvYzgjdgjcTmczSof82_sAQoxL_kYS2zZgXxYOyHk8zXuC8/s1600/lecter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy71D8bUJ4TrRlKzWxmubD2pPBLmSoBaehrJ7fYcp2MdjFKWewZs7PI7u7CGjeU6rDnnoPeI_K8EGasLDHgTkK8PvYzgjdgjcTmczSof82_sAQoxL_kYS2zZgXxYOyHk8zXuC8/s400/lecter.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>...and then he said, "that's not an eggplant - he's just retarded!" *snort* "Fava beans?"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Things like satire and sarcasm are foreign concepts to these types of people. Quips elude them. They live in a sad little world where there are no interrupting cows knocking on their doors (*gasp* I'm a vegan!) and Little Johnny should be in a group home with lots of therapy by now.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But Sandra, you can't <i>grow</i> a sense of humor - you either have one or you don't. Yes, yes you can. And I'm going to tell you how:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<ol>
<li>Take a seed. Any kind of seed, it doesn't really matter. </li>
<li>Put that seed into a container with soil. Poke your finger into the soil and spin it around until there's a hole big enough to drop that seed into. Bury that seed. Bury it good.</li>
<li>Now sing to that seed. This step is important. I recommend "I'm a Little Tea Pot" or "I Feel Pretty." Sing it with love and fervor. Sing it loud enough that the neighbors send the police to do a wellness check.</li>
<li>Water that seed. With vodka. Soak it 'til it runneth over. Inebriate the hell out of that seed. </li>
<li>Now spin in a circle, and focus your attention directly behind you.</li>
<li>Locate the stick that's been cemented in your ass and give it a good pull until it's removed.</li>
<li>Take a deep breath, that probably hurt a little. You probably don't want to sit down at this point, though.</li>
<li>Now repeat after me: I am one in a collective of over 7 billion people on this Earth. No one gives a shit if they offend me, nor should they. I am entitled to my thoughts and feelings, but not to act like a giant baby and demand that everyone cater to my irrational and quite frankly infuriating demands. I can laugh at dick and fart jokes among adults without deeming them inappropriate. I can laugh at that photo of the baby cow and baby pig laying together with the caption that says, "Best Friends Forever" atop another photo of a bacon cheeseburger, because that shit's funny. And delicious. I CAN, AND I WILL.</li>
</ol>
<br />
Congratulations! You've just taken the first steps to growing a healthy sense of humor! Be proud, and hold on tight - you're in for a hell of a ride.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcsRcERA7cmMbx7HRrUe7zMc2gdBXiAREg7l_cWYg8kq8ek48yfN27jBnOrrpKrEenhIcCFHRFbMYSmOM34moG0dFdLjMBvdJN41G-okbHudgFtozvP4sF3rANBYRKrfR_-Qzh/s1600/rollercoat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcsRcERA7cmMbx7HRrUe7zMc2gdBXiAREg7l_cWYg8kq8ek48yfN27jBnOrrpKrEenhIcCFHRFbMYSmOM34moG0dFdLjMBvdJN41G-okbHudgFtozvP4sF3rANBYRKrfR_-Qzh/s400/rollercoat.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Also, look how many more friends you'll have when you're NOT offended by absolutely everything!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
STEP 2 to Becoming Awesome: AVOID BEING A DOUCHE.</h3>
<br />
Okay, "don't be a douche" leaves a lot open to interpretation. Of course no one wants to believe that they're a douche or acting in a douche-like manner, but hey - it happens.<br />
<br />
If we break this down into much-needed sub-categories, there are 7 classes of douche:<br />
<br />
1. <b>The Liar</b>. <br />
<br />
This should be a simple enough concept, but the reality is that we all lie <i>sometimes</i>, whether it's telling our BFF that her new haircut isn't<i> that bad</i> or we're trying to convince our boss that we need a day off because our Grandmother just passed away. For the 7th time.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No, the liar in this context is the person who can't seem to give a straight answer, ever, no matter how big or small the situation. This is the person who's smarter, stronger, more experienced, and just all-around better than anyone they encounter in life. The person who stabs you in the back and then says that they were framed when you catch them still holding the ice pick. <br />
<br />
Don't be the person holding the ice pick.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
2. <b>The Manipulator</b>. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This is the person who always manages to get their way, no matter how crazy the situation. Methods of manipulation can vary from subtle hints to outright temper tantrums, followed by epic guilt trips whether they've ultimately gotten their way or not. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Don't be the person who <i>has to have their way all the time, or else</i>.</div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
3. <b>The Drama Queen</b>.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The Drama Queen, quite simply, cannot function in a world without chaos. There MUST be conflict, whether it's real, imagined, or contrived. THEY must be at the center of the drama, whether they are the victim (see number 4), or the person pretending to try to help solve the conflict. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://media.tumblr.com/0b7cb04728d0584959df44137860706e/tumblr_inline_mqkm2rdKxm1qz4rgp.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://media.tumblr.com/0b7cb04728d0584959df44137860706e/tumblr_inline_mqkm2rdKxm1qz4rgp.gif" height="196" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>...just don't.</i></div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
4. <b>The Victim</b>. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Not to be confused with the Drama Queen, the Victim never has anything good going on in their life, and no matter how many shitty things they've done to others during the course of events, they are automatically the person who demands that everyone rally around them and them alone when the shit hits the proverbial fan.<br />
<br />
For God's sake, don't be a victim. It's pathetic.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
5. <b>The Narcissistic Asshole</b>.<br />
<br />
This is the person who pretty much embodies numbers 1-4, but still manages to have people that actually want to have them around. I don't know how this works exactly, but f*ck that.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
6. <b>The Bigot</b>.</div>
<div>
<br />
This can be the person who outright declares their hatred and disgust with all things outside their personal comfort zones or belief systems, or the person who throws a disclaimer in front of everything they say. "I'm not trying to sound racist, but..." "Don't take this the wrong way, but..."<br />
<br />
...don't be the "but" guy.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
7. <b>The Total Fake</b>.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"You're my favorite person ever!," this person will declare, 5 minutes before they're telling someone else what a complete and total shitbag you are. <i>You can totally trust this person...</i> to twist every personal thing you tell them into a weapon to use against you at some point in the future - but it won't be a personal attack - rather, it will be an attempt to convince someone else that <i>they</i> are the superior person. "Compliments" from this person come in the form of vague statements that <i>sound</i> nice until you've actually had time to break down what they've said. Confessions come in the form of some story about how they were sooo uncomfortable because everyone was hitting on them or someone super-important gave them the most awesome compliments. This person is so insecure that they momentarily bristle at the sight of <i>their own</i> reflection in the mirror. <br />
<br />
What. The. Ever-loving. F*ck.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://img.pandawhale.com/72600-ryan-reynolds-confused-speechl-MXRZ.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://img.pandawhale.com/72600-ryan-reynolds-confused-speechl-MXRZ.gif" height="292" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Me, on any given day.</i></div>
<br />
<br />
Avoiding all of this is as simple as, oh I don't know, being <i>you.</i> I know, you're asking yourself, "but what if I'm just a natural asshole?" And you know what? That's cool too - as long as you're an <i>honest</i> natural asshole. At least then people know what the f*ck to expect.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
STEP 3 to Becoming Awesome: BE A GOOD LISTENER.</h3>
<br />
This is another one that people seem to think is either naturally there or not. That is both colossally untrue and also a giant, steaming excuse to not want to allow someone else to have the spotlight for a couple minutes. So again, Sandra's step-by-step system for being a good listener:<br />
<br />
<br />
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>Shut your face hole. Shut it. </li>
<li>Look at the person who is speaking to you;</li>
<li>Engage with the person who is speaking with you. None of that auto-pilot bullshit where you throw out a "yeah" or "uh-huh" or "you don't say?" Use complete sentences. Validate the other person. </li>
</ol>
See? Isn't that so much more fun than listening to tv show theme songs in your head and waiting for an opening to butt in and talk about yourself?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcXpq0DXl2-JBez9-uSTSg9aNTQbqfjz6g4w9NkUVDzik3rwOb2sJT21IJ4oFDHjKU6-1fI_WN9IT9Rna0Xpx9iXi8R6XDZgu_yWcnanSJ4p9qkAfaJ8WHFom15rjDLANqBUvS/s1600/5x17-Happy_Place.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcXpq0DXl2-JBez9-uSTSg9aNTQbqfjz6g4w9NkUVDzik3rwOb2sJT21IJ4oFDHjKU6-1fI_WN9IT9Rna0Xpx9iXi8R6XDZgu_yWcnanSJ4p9qkAfaJ8WHFom15rjDLANqBUvS/s320/5x17-Happy_Place.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> Uh-huh. Uh-huh. In West Philadelphia, born and raised. What were we talking about again?</i></div>
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
STEP 4: QUIT BEING SO F*CKING WORRIED ABOUT WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK.</h3>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Welp, there it is. I don't mean be a selfish douchetard (see Step 2), what I'm saying is that being a carbon copy of what you think is cool or acceptable is a quick way to jump straight into Wannabe Land, Captain of the Miserable, Living Each Day Just to Make it Through to Another Day. Yes, the world loves its rebels - but the unexpected, amazing side effect of doing things the way you want to do them without worrying about who's going to be talking shit about it is that it makes <i>you</i> happy.<br />
<br />
Another amazing side effect of not being miserable in your own life? You're too busy being happy to give two shits about judging someone else about theirs. Miserable people see someone smiling and want to punch them in the throat because <i>what the f*ck do they have to be so happy about? Life sucks. </i>Happy people see someone smiling and think, "well, look at that. Rock on brother. Rock on."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://i703.photobucket.com/albums/ww31/andersonsdae/fistbump_zpsc98fbfc9.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i703.photobucket.com/albums/ww31/andersonsdae/fistbump_zpsc98fbfc9.gif" height="242" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>...and all is good with the world.</i></div>
</div>
<br />
<br />
And that, dear readers, after this epically long-winded brain shart of a blog post, brings me to my final point:<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
STEP 5 to Becoming Awesome: RELEARN TO APPRECIATE PASSION.</h3>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Quick question: have you ever had a child run up to you so excited about something that they're almost literally exploding, hopping up and down, arm-flailing, barely able to form coherent sentences because <i>OH MY GOSH A BUTTERFLY JUST LANDED ON MY NOSE and it seems mundane but it was the COOLEST. THING. EVER!</i>? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Or what about that friend who, when a conversation leads into something they're really into, gets super-excited for a minute and starts animatedly gushing about it, hands swinging, eyes twinkling, before they suddenly get embarrassed and say something like, "oh, but that's stupid. Sorry. Never mind." </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
No, it's NOT stupid, you beautiful mother, <i>tell me</i>. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Because, dear readers, we see enough people dragging themselves half-dead along through their day-to-day lives; tired, depressed, crestfallen. Who the hell mandated that, as adults, we can't get arm-flailingly, squeally, incoherently excited about things? Why does life have to be soul-crushing to seem productive?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Take a cue from that 4 year old who's been laughing his ass off for the last 20 minutes watching the dog chase his tail. Lighten up. Get excited, even if it seems silly. Hell, <i>especially</i> if it seems silly. And give others the courtesy of getting silly-stupid excited, too.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://ak-hdl.buzzfed.com/static/2014-10/1/12/enhanced/webdr05/anigif_enhanced-buzz-21894-1412180644-28.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ak-hdl.buzzfed.com/static/2014-10/1/12/enhanced/webdr05/anigif_enhanced-buzz-21894-1412180644-28.gif" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Googled "silly-stupid excited." Was not disappointed.</i></div>
<br />
Freakin' Elmo, man. Bahahahaha.<br />
<br />
Anyway.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So, being awesome is more about being true to yourself - but if your idea of awesome has to do with how much other people love you - you kind of have to love yourself first to accomplish that, too.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDyUJgUg4pdHgrNkpbMHaxD0k_PsYhf_4KJwsvNXmm5Jjluz3SAtAFjYcM0k8rCL7JgBF38ydtkiZb83NxjpDADNRC0MGnqDNpI9SCzaIZx6yNEyQbAOKr7nbqM8d9p11c1-y-/s1600/6a00d8341d7a3253ef0120a79fd0ce970b-800wi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDyUJgUg4pdHgrNkpbMHaxD0k_PsYhf_4KJwsvNXmm5Jjluz3SAtAFjYcM0k8rCL7JgBF38ydtkiZb83NxjpDADNRC0MGnqDNpI9SCzaIZx6yNEyQbAOKr7nbqM8d9p11c1-y-/s320/6a00d8341d7a3253ef0120a79fd0ce970b-800wi.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>That's... that's a little too much self love. Get a room.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><br /></i></div>
</div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-88571283873755239802015-09-17T06:21:00.003-07:002015-09-17T06:57:30.020-07:005 Social Expectations that are Totally Weird but We All Have<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
First, a story:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
A few years ago, I worked as the Video Department manager for an entertainment store. This was perfect for me, because I could hide in my department most days, avoiding human interaction under the guise of alphabetizing, cleaning, and otherwise making my department awesome. There were only a couple of problems with this job: </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li style="text-align: justify;">Customers still sucked. Something about retail stores make people revert back to toddler-hood, unable to put things back where they found them and somehow - for some confounding reason that I still haven't figured out - unable to touch <i>anything</i> without sweaty, sticky fingers;</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">Porn. Oh. My. God. SO MUCH PORN. I don't have a problem with porn in general, but holy Rule 34, Batman... just... people are gross;</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://ctrcmain.blogspot.com/2015/08/because-confessions-are-good-for-soul.html" target="_blank">Remember when I told you that I randomly sing about everything?</a> And you know how the audio that plays on a loop in most retail stores, coupled with the combined clatter of all the people in the store, the coffee machines in the cafe, the different audio playing in each department - you get the idea - makes it really, really easy for people to sneak up on you?</li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://media.thedailytouch.com/2015/07/12parkhouse.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://media.thedailytouch.com/2015/07/12parkhouse.gif" height="200" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="text-align: justify;">Totally not even necessary. </i></div>
<span style="text-align: justify;">
</span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify;">So there I was one day, happily alphabetizing dramas and well into about the third verse of a song from <i>Fiddler on the Roof, </i>when I get the distinct feeling that I'm being watched. I ignore that feeling, because I'm in <i>the zone</i>, but my body does this weird thing where it will involuntarily twitch and spasm if I'm left alone and singing or there's music anywhere in the vicinity. Some people might call this dancing, but dancing is calculated and requires rhythm; this is more like intermittent episodes of a seizure that can't decide if it's worth its time to fully hit or not.</span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://media.giphy.com/media/WclWEr54yNBDy/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://media.giphy.com/media/WclWEr54yNBDy/giphy.gif" height="223" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"> <i>Imagine this, split up into 3-second pieces, interrupted by moments of deep alphabetizing concentration, alongside a dorky white girl's quiet rendition of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UeSSxIJGkPQ" target="_blank">"If I were a Rich Man."</a> Also, I'd be wearing a shirt. Maybe.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">Anywho, there I am, singing and alphabetizing and seize-dancing, when I happen to look up and see three sets of eyes peering at me around a corner. After another full verse. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">Being the dork I am, I totally played into it instead of shrieking and running away like a normal person would do. It helped that it was my niece, nephew, and a friend of theirs, but it's not generally normal to do a one-person rendition of old-school musicals at work in the middle of a retail store and not really care if you get caught.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">And that, dear readers, is what brings me to the subject of this post - what the hell is "normal" and who the hell decided that it was? Here are 5 things in particular that I'm still figuring out.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">1. Talking to Yourself Makes You a Crazy Person.</span></h3>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">You know how, when you've triumphantly finished all the dishes in the sink and made your way back to the living room to settle in with a bag of Cheetos and a well-deserved Netflix session, and find a stray bowl with a spoon cemented into the bottom thanks to a good eighth of an inch of two-week old milk/Cinnamon toast Crunch crumbs wedged between the couch cushions? And you mutter to yourself, some combination of half expletive/half guttural grunts - "son of a - URGH" "motha - RAGH!" And then you continue to mutter-curse, as you carry the bowl/science-experiment-gone-awry back into the kitchen, throw it into the sink, fill it with water to soak because that shit ain't comin' out without a f*cking chisel and <i>how f*cking hard is it to bring a f*cking bowl back into the kitchen like I don't have enough shit to do in a day my family wants to live like a bunch of f*cking feral piglets...</i>" </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">...yea. That's all well and fine in the privacy of your own home, but try that shit at Wal-Mart or just walking down the street, and suddenly people are looking at you crazy and mothers are ushering their small children as far away from you as possible.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIO4pIMI00oYe5DugSKhjosSOHxHUsNRf4OQcGXwUOijRqsbn79CyFgQYupyiHxmOVrGQ8nIGyM2DbzXH7nBPCZLfJgpYOoGFaAsApZBM2EGuUV_vmsCK9KNn6LXwogwFMifgW/s1600/download3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIO4pIMI00oYe5DugSKhjosSOHxHUsNRf4OQcGXwUOijRqsbn79CyFgQYupyiHxmOVrGQ8nIGyM2DbzXH7nBPCZLfJgpYOoGFaAsApZBM2EGuUV_vmsCK9KNn6LXwogwFMifgW/s320/download3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><i>Just be very still and don't look them directly in the eyes, baby. </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">We all talk to ourselves sometimes. It can be a muttered rant or deep thoughts that seem somehow easier to sort through when spoken out loud - but we <i>all</i> do it. So why is it so disturbing to see someone do it in public?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">I have no idea, but it's totally fun to walk around quietly repeating catch-phrases on the packaging of products in the store and watching as people scatter like a hyena's just escaped from the zoo and decided to go shopping for reasonably-priced produce. Plus, it makes shopping trips much quicker when you've scared off those assholes that like to block off entire aisles talking to each other for an hour.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">2. You're Not Allowed to Have Bodily Functions.</span></h3>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;">Okay so... I get not running around busting ass willy-nilly in public because - gross. There are far too many examples as to why that expectation is completely acceptable to even list here.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;">BUT - why do people, especially women, have to pretend that they don't even <i>have</i> assholes outside of their own personal bathrooms, and preferably only when the house is completely empty and all the neighbors on the block are gone to work? Like a woman would rather literally explode from gas pressure build-up than accidentally let a boopsie slip <i>ever</i>. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDMrpLuHer6uXJfBLW81hZE1FNH20ZqGaRqIgoR8bSyUabJu_lfKakN_NCebZnCS082nmW8uCFbG7-p5LfeHG1uwBj2KAznzoH1v_UBeTEtHlgwkQJ4DUnMjxwCWOujErIuSNO/s1600/large_willy_wonka_blu-ray15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDMrpLuHer6uXJfBLW81hZE1FNH20ZqGaRqIgoR8bSyUabJu_lfKakN_NCebZnCS082nmW8uCFbG7-p5LfeHG1uwBj2KAznzoH1v_UBeTEtHlgwkQJ4DUnMjxwCWOujErIuSNO/s400/large_willy_wonka_blu-ray15.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><i>That seven-layer bean dip was a BAD idea.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">Alright men, I'm about to destroy everything you thought you knew about women up to this point: Women fart. Women poop. Yes, just like you. Only worse, because women are always doing those crazy diets and salad and green tea shits are <i>the worst</i>. Women burp. Women sweat. Yes, even the hot ones - not just Grandma, who's too old to give a shit who she offends and probably doesn't even know that she lets out a little toot each time she takes a step. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">And ladies - we all know that you act all prim and proper and you always smell pretty because you shower twice a day and drown yourself in expensive soaps, lotions, and perfumes - but when you stepped out of the room just now, saying that you needed to grab a pen or get some fresh air or whatever, we know what you<i> really</i> did. It's the reason your eyes are glazed over and the small dog that followed you is now walking sideways. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: justify;">So the next time your Dad or your brother or your husband accidentally rips one in your presence, don't act all judgey. Don't act like you didn't just do the same thing in the other room under the guise of a cough and a poor, innocent dog who is now brain damaged and doesn't understand why he's being chided for being a nasty, farty boy. Accept that it's just a normal bodily function and get on with your damned night. Or have some fun with it, whatever.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVxA4YrsxmSQtqOmzWO8XGzG0ReuMPRMFhGXkWjBk4gcydTtjJ0jPmXQUR0yUU0IbM4ZAN9wMaJfBDOSyImd-OggN6h4FGcTHwbRsGXCjnHjBD_Am5y1Fi4Lia-SAKhCyunaBh/s1600/score-card.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVxA4YrsxmSQtqOmzWO8XGzG0ReuMPRMFhGXkWjBk4gcydTtjJ0jPmXQUR0yUU0IbM4ZAN9wMaJfBDOSyImd-OggN6h4FGcTHwbRsGXCjnHjBD_Am5y1Fi4Lia-SAKhCyunaBh/s320/score-card.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><i>Good execution, but the landing was a little <strike>sloshy</strike> sloppy. Also, please flip the cushion.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">3. The Right Amount of Eye Contact is a Slippery Slope.</span></h3>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">We all know that when we're talking to somebody, maintaining eye contact is important for conveying that we're paying attention and interested in the conversation, no matter how many times they've told us about that time they dressed their cat as Snow White and it was sooo funny.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLHs3knua15TZsPWQ0F-Dg8wUjv4K6Z-DG28pLlXwn1eMdoYoitmxMRymhxb0YmAYx-h9nGDMow1cWF8A-_rXfOlIyMw0iHK2WGsX2aA2XS_i09HCr6UZqcymWN25rMaQid78I/s1600/halloween-inspiration-cats-costume-large-msg-1318987041931.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLHs3knua15TZsPWQ0F-Dg8wUjv4K6Z-DG28pLlXwn1eMdoYoitmxMRymhxb0YmAYx-h9nGDMow1cWF8A-_rXfOlIyMw0iHK2WGsX2aA2XS_i09HCr6UZqcymWN25rMaQid78I/s320/halloween-inspiration-cats-costume-large-msg-1318987041931.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><i>I'm going to kill this f*cking human twice.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">But what about when you're NOT having a conversation? When you're walking down the street? Or when you're standing at the bar just looking around because your friend's having a deep, drunken conversation with someone they just met in the bathroom and you happen to look right at someone who's oddly looking right at you? Look away too quickly, you're a snob. Look too long, and it gets all stalkery. Or they think you want them and they get obnoxiously overzealous. Okay, I guess that's still stalkery, just on <i>their</i> part. Either way, no bueno. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">I don't really have a solution for this one, either. Best I can do is, if they start to look uncomfortable, look away. Or pretend you were really checking out that amazing painting right behind them and they're the weird one for looking at <i>you</i> so long. Or, if they return your accidental gaze with creepy porno eyes, run. Especially if it's followed by a wink or a lame-ass finger gun.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLcPwhib7G2RqxKYS84jGAdLxfCzOY_vlMtShyphenhyphenAi1UUDiD6xCXZYNzzcVNYVOD4OgFCIfSRY9-WGOJsw5mCfWXoFbjgLhKr8roM-Y5DXhFcIgcD3OUwgW3l02QB8zBf9Baav_d/s1600/Mr_bean-smart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLcPwhib7G2RqxKYS84jGAdLxfCzOY_vlMtShyphenhyphenAi1UUDiD6xCXZYNzzcVNYVOD4OgFCIfSRY9-WGOJsw5mCfWXoFbjgLhKr8roM-Y5DXhFcIgcD3OUwgW3l02QB8zBf9Baav_d/s320/Mr_bean-smart.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><i>"I don't know, he's actually kind of cute."</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><i>-- Seven...teen shots of tequila</i></span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">You know what? Just don't look at anyone unless they're speaking directly to you, ever. It's safer that way.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">Speaking of...</span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">4. If You're Quiet, You're Weird. Or dying. Or a Snob. Or a Psycho.</span></h3>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;">So you're sitting at a party or other gathering and everyone's talking, laughing, and having a good time, and you're either sitting back quietly observing or have your nose in your phone because either you're shy, you're just not feeling it, or you don't really feel like you have anything to add to the conversation.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;">"What's <i>their</i> deal," people mutter to each other when they think you can't hear. Or, they just get right up in your face, "what's wrong? Why are you so quiet? Are you okay? Loosen up!"</span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;">... and that just makes you self-conscious. Your mind reels, trying to find something coherent to say, and all you can muster is a weak shrug as you desperately try to bury your face back into your phone. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;">But why, for the love of introverted lack of need to fit into large groups, must a person be vocal if they don't want to be vocal? Why is it so f*cking weird that someone might not want to jump into a group conversation about a band they don't know about or don't like, or a gossip fest, or a dick-joke telling contest (although personally I don't know why anyone would ever want to avoid one of those)? Maybe they don't know much about whatever's being talked about. Maybe they don't give a shit about it. Maybe they're uncomfortable. Or tired. Or don't want to say something stupid in front of that hot new person that just walked in. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnuK2EAA_nzdZVBGEXwGdnnIU5VL7BAPQehnW7C_pgPub_CSccFfZEpjYYau7GZTJwK6Z1I_8cL19DahRIoU1v4DgllIhjM8pxqWuGY2Nt-JCfe-GR5Kg93rq74-g1InWr1Lh5/s1600/mr-bean-face-703x350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnuK2EAA_nzdZVBGEXwGdnnIU5VL7BAPQehnW7C_pgPub_CSccFfZEpjYYau7GZTJwK6Z1I_8cL19DahRIoU1v4DgllIhjM8pxqWuGY2Nt-JCfe-GR5Kg93rq74-g1InWr1Lh5/s320/mr-bean-face-703x350.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><i>... and it was going so well when we first locked eyes ...</i></span></div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: justify;">Why are we expected to interact with each other just because we happen to be sitting in the same room? How is awkward small talk any better than sweet, beautiful silence? Damn, some days you just don't want to deal with people - even the ones you actually <i>like</i>. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: justify;">5. No One Gets to Have a Damn Opinion Anymore.</span></h3>
</div>
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;">So you just said you don't really care for bacon and your group of friends, the waitress, and the entire population of the restaurant you're sitting in just gasped and is now looking at you like you just stabbed a crippled orphan puppy in the middle of the table. Or, you simply express the opinion that you don't think Hillary is a bad idea for President, since - <i>hello</i>, she didn't do too bad of a job running the country when Bill was in office - and Donald Trump busts through the wall like the f*cking Kool-Aid Man and screams in your face that you're irrational and incapable of having a valid opinion because you have boobs and are obviously on your period. Even if you're a dude.</span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6F-yn-7bnUzcE-XSVrA1FsdU4Yj3OJEfKWjHlXp23mMb6rZGxho4PPRMZQ8JWk_rMtHkSZEhQElhRO6McNQBl-QNOer5C1EK1eXk9PpQx8HiJjB7n-K7nTLV2pK1H3t4nXBjm/s1600/GD7589916%2540Donald-Trump-with-hi-83.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6F-yn-7bnUzcE-XSVrA1FsdU4Yj3OJEfKWjHlXp23mMb6rZGxho4PPRMZQ8JWk_rMtHkSZEhQElhRO6McNQBl-QNOer5C1EK1eXk9PpQx8HiJjB7n-K7nTLV2pK1H3t4nXBjm/s320/GD7589916%2540Donald-Trump-with-hi-83.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: justify;"><i>One doesn't have to understand biology when they're sitting on a billion dollar empire and own the most wicked comb-over ever.</i></span></div>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: justify;">Alright, maybe that last one's a bit of an exaggeration, but holy shitake mushrooms, Batman - state an opinion that differs from someone else's and be ready for the crazy to burst forth and land right in your face, all loud and obnoxious and lacking any logical reasoning whatsoever.</span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>You mean you have thoughts in your head-cave and dare let them seep out of your mouth-hole like they matter just as much as anyone else's? No, f*ck you, bacon-hating heathen, you're the reason this country's going to hell in a hand basket and I'm going to shove my opinion down your throat 50 different ways, until you either come to your senses or you choke on it. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Everybody's right. Everybody's offended. Somehow, we've reached a point as a society where it's no longer necessary to discuss and debate anymore, where there's no such thing as a happy medium, and we're pretty much the equivalent of a Kindergarten class in grown-up bodies whose teacher got smashed and accidentally left the lids off all the glue in a tightly sealed, poorly ventilated room. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPoLiArKkMN9wkckL365RjXLLzjgoouDH6lFhunK338xFCw9-Uzz-5UijmGwTrCL0nUXT4LFgT-YjzBLtcMGvlDjqOLjctvnay5a7lMJv0U459LTjHGsEjw_aTeQqHW5FiO5Oe/s1600/--meme-15753.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPoLiArKkMN9wkckL365RjXLLzjgoouDH6lFhunK338xFCw9-Uzz-5UijmGwTrCL0nUXT4LFgT-YjzBLtcMGvlDjqOLjctvnay5a7lMJv0U459LTjHGsEjw_aTeQqHW5FiO5Oe/s320/--meme-15753.jpg" width="189" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Ooooh, Doody Head doesn't like bacon? You will, mutha. You will</i>.</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: justify;">... and I'm already done with people for the day. I'm going back to bed.</span>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-29424860836449272702015-09-09T11:44:00.001-07:002015-09-09T11:54:52.739-07:00Letter From the Cat<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaEj3rKQLvYaiKKwQvoGEAEYVAhecfzD8v_GmSnc9RcmnO2jBwUFLdkM97qsA5J7moAT4knuVDvSfyOuaRajo2VlFcAyZOkwn0muCosENpYZMxJtyISvU_Xof-Kdeh4c9Baw30/s1600/051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaEj3rKQLvYaiKKwQvoGEAEYVAhecfzD8v_GmSnc9RcmnO2jBwUFLdkM97qsA5J7moAT4knuVDvSfyOuaRajo2VlFcAyZOkwn0muCosENpYZMxJtyISvU_Xof-Kdeh4c9Baw30/s400/051.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Dear human,</i></span></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Your attempts at domesticating me have failed.</i></span></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>How dare you assume that you're my superior because you trump me in size and have thumbs. You are obviously the inferior being; you only see in the daytime, your hunting skills are deplorable, and you defecate into your stupidly loyal canines' main water supply. </i></span></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>That's another thing - is your self-esteem so diminutive that you had to go out and adopt not one, but TWO brainless canine minions that have nothing more exciting in their lives than seeing </i>you<i> throughout the day? The little one gets so excited that he urinates. HE URINATES. That's not love, human, that is a severe mental deficiency. </i></span></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>They are infuriatingly insistent on trying to befriend me, no matter how many times I have <strike>framed them</strike> turned away their advances. Clearly, they are too stupid to realize that I am the Master and merely tolerate their existence in my realm.</i></span></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>You, human, have shunned my gifts of food, in my attempts to show you how to not be a worthless meatsack who has to have all their food pre-packaged by another, clearly superior hunter. You sift through </i>my<i> waste, which I am forced to collect in a putrid box at the end of the hall. You have no grasp of the simplest methods to appease me, insisting on removing me from your keyboard when you are attempting to finish that novel that we both know will never come to fruition and petting me in all the ways that begin wonderfully and end in bloodshed. </i></span></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Then there was that one time you forced me into a Santa hat and collar and took pictures. So many pictures. I haven't forgotten, human, and you WILL pay for that.</i></span></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>You do scratch behind my ears, which I have a bloody difficult time doing, so that's nice. And you do give me those delectable little yummies from time to time when you wish to bribe me into giving you my attention. My food and water dish are always full, you do seem to understand my occasional troubles with those pesky hairballs, and I guess you're learning how to properly follow directions. Slowly, but learning.</i></span></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Okay, I guess I like you a little. </i>A little<i>.</i></span></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Now rub my belly. I wish to lull you into a false sense of security with my purr, and then bite you until your puny human blood spills from your hand. </i></span></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Sincerely,</i></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Shadow Kitty</i></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></h3>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: blue;"><i>Shadow Kitty just started a Twitter account. If you want her to consider sparing you when cats take over the world, follow her <a href="https://twitter.com/Sandrascat?lang=en" target="_blank">@Sandrascat</a>. Or you can just laugh at all the ways she tortures her human.</i></span></div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19717118.post-3465242694621123232015-09-09T02:37:00.000-07:002015-09-09T02:49:04.357-07:003 Trending Topics Everyone Has An Opinion On While Totally Missing the Point<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Oh Internet, how you tickle me, hiding all the important stuff behind click-bait and hate-mongering.<br />
<br />
If the Internet had a slogan, it would be, "Look, there's a bandwagon that maybe possibly loosely fits my personal opinion if I squint my eyes, plug my ears, and tilt my head 20 degrees to the left. Hold my beer, I'ma jump on it!"<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7jksp0kQimZddE8YOuFG-x9chhaVQdy2LAx7vMZdgnpZR_FYCfMhsUYiFW0KqBXmNRKZWc2YqVT_l7jd_mpmy-D9SUBsXoCCteGhiiEgKBN4ZL7uqqyFfDzC4a2g7xU2DB3DN/s1600/19n5l0o10kqgt0946pq9swer7.320x215x1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7jksp0kQimZddE8YOuFG-x9chhaVQdy2LAx7vMZdgnpZR_FYCfMhsUYiFW0KqBXmNRKZWc2YqVT_l7jd_mpmy-D9SUBsXoCCteGhiiEgKBN4ZL7uqqyFfDzC4a2g7xU2DB3DN/s400/19n5l0o10kqgt0946pq9swer7.320x215x1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> ...along with all that baggage.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Dear readers, my brain hurts right now. Like, my eyes are crossing and I can literally feel my IQ ticking downward. If you're like me, Facebook and Twitter has become a painful reminder that the world is a scary, scary place. One with a billion slobbering, snarling opinions and soapboxes and very little logic or willingness to budge or consider an alternate view. Does nobody do any research anymore? Does nobody question <i>anything</i> anymore? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Sigh.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So, dear readers, comes my insomnia-induced rant: </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
3. Kim Davis.</h3>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4n1-8h3JcLqfFBzW1kOec2d3DbzUNO4bhX3nlWeqQXV126fzC344xtXa5BCkIEMt8VIXN8n835nI568TXtpqC7RhIIYVr1Jrvr_Tjjj0rcKMRe5WIlXPK8iOwgSpwWtGSKLeE/s1600/download+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4n1-8h3JcLqfFBzW1kOec2d3DbzUNO4bhX3nlWeqQXV126fzC344xtXa5BCkIEMt8VIXN8n835nI568TXtpqC7RhIIYVr1Jrvr_Tjjj0rcKMRe5WIlXPK8iOwgSpwWtGSKLeE/s400/download+%25283%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Omgosh. My Facebook feed has been blowing up with support for this woman, who - in case you've been living under a rock the last couple of weeks - is a Kentucky county clerk who was jailed for refusing to follow a US Federal Court Order to issue marriage licenses to gay couples.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>Where people are missing the point: </b> Kim Davis' personal history and religious beliefs aside, <i>she works for a government office</i>. She knew, upon accepting that job, what the requirements would be for keeping that job. Granted, she may not have foreseen the eventuality of gay marriage becoming legal, but she could have simply refused to issue licenses or have anything to do with processing those licenses <i>personally</i>. If she was that appalled, she could have found employment elsewhere. Instead, she instructed her entire office staff to refuse to issue marriage licenses for gay couples. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Now, for all of you that are still scratching your head and arguing that she was only following her Christian conscience, let me ask you this: what if she had refused, and instructed her entire staff to refuse, to issues licenses to mixed-race couples, citing religious belief? What if she were anything other than a White Christian, like a Muslim, an Orthodox Jew, or a Jehovah's Witness? Would you be so quick to grant her the ability to force her beliefs onto others using her position of authority in a government-sanctioned office?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
...and where does that leave Separation of Church and State? Because believe it or not, removing the line between Church and State brings a whole slew of problems none of us want to contend with - the biggest being the government being able to tell us what we can and cannot do within our own churches.<br />
<br />
Nope, totally can't see where <i>that</i> could possibly go wrong.</div>
<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
2. The Confederate Flag.</h3>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm a little behind, I know. The idea behind this one is that several people want the Confederate Flag and every use of or reference to it banned, because they say it promotes racism.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>Where people are missing the point: </b>First of all, can we just acknowledge that part of this argument is to ban the Dukes of Hazard? Does that not seem silly to anyone? Can anyone remember an episode where the Duke brothers hopped into General Lee and in any way participated in any kind of racist shenanigans? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMSmpzaHvJn8vqKBvjNOhOcfYrKW4o7UGJTHaIOc7eNNqkdFIfAz6oM8lPOh_W0bDJswIpm7oYbw4cIcSyEGNnFVhd04l9-lgTWiqDyKZVytTuf6dixM2gjhYq2sniGuqp_hgX/s1600/Daisy+Duke+Catherine+Bach+General+Lee+Dukes+of+Hazzard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMSmpzaHvJn8vqKBvjNOhOcfYrKW4o7UGJTHaIOc7eNNqkdFIfAz6oM8lPOh_W0bDJswIpm7oYbw4cIcSyEGNnFVhd04l9-lgTWiqDyKZVytTuf6dixM2gjhYq2sniGuqp_hgX/s400/Daisy+Duke+Catherine+Bach+General+Lee+Dukes+of+Hazzard.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Because General Lee and his paint job were totally the reason people watched this show.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Here's a quick history lesson: the Confederate Flag began as one of three in a contest of sorts to create a flag separate from the official American Flag in battles in the Civil War. It was flown as troops marched into battle against the Union, representing the 13 states that no longer wanted to be a part of it.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Many Blacks (both free and slaves) fought in the Civil War - with the Confederacy - because they loved their homes and also felt threatened by the Union's proposed changes. Lincoln's stance on slaves and slavery was not the pure, compassionate idea that we were all fed in our history books; he was, in fact, a racist himself and wanted to "free" African-Americans so that they would leave the country and go back from whence they came, because he felt that they had no place among White people:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #fbfbfb;"><i>"I will say, then, that I am not, nor have ever been in favor of bringing about in any way the social and political equality of the white and black races ... I am in favor of having the superior position assigned to the white race."</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: blue;"><a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=UWJStTs8-A4C&pg=PA353&lpg=PA353&dq=%22Address+on+Colonization+to+a+Committee+of+Colored+Men,+Washington,+D.C.%22&source=web&ots=FmduICw37Q&sig=p9Ea_81V7EuuWCnKEMCv5nEO4OE&hl=en&ei=x0mXSYebMsH7tgfWzrC_Cw&sa=X&oi=book_result&resnum=3&ct=result#v=onepage&q=%22Address%20on%20Colonization%20to%20a%20Committee%20of%20Colored%20Men%2C%20Washington%2C%20D.C.%22&f=false" target="_blank">There's s goldmine of this crap here, disguised as concern for an "inferior race."</a></span></i><span id="goog_830596636"></span><span id="goog_830596637"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Does "Southern Pride" equal racist? I guess that depends on who you ask. But, one person, or group of people, using something to symbolize hate does not suddenly turn that symbol into a universal representation of hate. Just because some of the people who flew this flag originally "owned" slaves, doesn't mean that the flag was flown for the sole purpose of keeping those slaves, or even for that purpose at all.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Fun tip: The official flag of the Ku Klux Klan - which you might recognize as probably the most widely-known white supremacy group - is the American Flag. You know, the one that hangs at every school and government building in the country? The Aryan Nation also uses the American Flag - as well as the Christian Flag. That should throw some dents in a few soapboxes.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
1. The #BlackLivesMatter movement.</h3>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH2LSR-g9Onx_4TgDbmltvs7tNZbast-mQMWA4njC39_hvs4DS24GiMscShY_W7zLO9kMbFQK5LRJV4tDAVhc-o_tSZ8UBId34mWrHX6ZhNid7bgmbCsnv-xc9MZhuPnO8YGHd/s1600/black-lives-matter-Getty-Images-Centre-Daily-Times-e1438008506873.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH2LSR-g9Onx_4TgDbmltvs7tNZbast-mQMWA4njC39_hvs4DS24GiMscShY_W7zLO9kMbFQK5LRJV4tDAVhc-o_tSZ8UBId34mWrHX6ZhNid7bgmbCsnv-xc9MZhuPnO8YGHd/s400/black-lives-matter-Getty-Images-Centre-Daily-Times-e1438008506873.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Look, I know the media has a penchant for race-baiting and has made a point of only showing us the people who are using Black Lives Matter as reverse prejudice rather than giving us the full picture of what it's really about. Race-baiting generates clicks. It brings in viewers and stirs outrage and that, my friends, is a pretty effective way to undermine the real mission behind any movement.<br />
<br />
<b>Where people are missing the point</b>: Once again, yes, some people are using this movement as a platform for reverse racism, racial violence, hate-mongering, and race-baiting. These aren't the people I'm talking about here. I'm talking about the people using the Black Lives Matter movement as a method of voicing their pain and frustration and bringing attention to all the things the rest of us tend to overlook in our day to day lives because <i>we have never been faced with them</i>.<br />
<br />
It's a rally cry for acknowledgement - and change.<br />
<br />
Here's the biggest problem: They say Black Lives Matter, and you respond with a snarky, All Lives Matter. And you know what? You're right. All lives DO matter - and that's kind of <i>their</i> point. <br />
<br />
But by circumventing their statement with one that generalizes, you're minimizing the struggles that Black people still face to this day. We can argue all day long that we have a Black President and that there is no longer segregation, etc., etc., but unless you are a Black person living in America, you're missing the bigger picture. Tell that young man to his face that racism is no longer an issue in America, right after he's been pulled over and his car searched for drugs just because he's Black. For the 15th time. Tell it to the young mother who just had to ignore dirty looks and hateful comments at the grocery store because someone assumed her debit card was a Food Stamp card and she bought something other than rice or beans. <br />
<br />
Tell it to the person who's been asked, for the billionth time, if they know who their daddy is, despite the fact that their parents have been happily married their entire lives and provide a better life for them than many people could wish for. Tell it to the unarmed person who had a gun pulled on them only because they were walking home alone in the dark in a predominantly White neighborhood. Tell it to the family that just had to bury their child, because some crazy person busted into a church and opened fire on an entire congregation just because they were Black. <br />
<br />
Tell it to any Black person you know - I dare you - and then sit back and listen, really listen, as they tell you some of the awful, shitty things people have said and done to them in their lives - just because they're Black.<br />
<br />
There's no "race card" being pulled in so many - too many - of these situations; it's pretty clear when someone is being targeted based on their race, and it's bullshit. Racism isn't "as bad" as it was 50 years ago, but it's still there, and it's still a big deal. It's not something you can measure, it either is, or it isn't. And right now, in the world we live in, it still very much <i>is</i>.<br />
<br />
So when you reply with, "all lives matter," what you're saying is, "Sit down. You don't have it that bad." Of course they're pissed; you just denied their status as a <i>human being</i>. So the next time someone on your Facebook or Twitter feed proclaims, #BlackLivesMatter!, don't take it as, "Black lives matter more than others," consider that it might be the assertion that Black lives matter just as much as <i>anyone else's</i>. <br />
<br />
And they're right.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
sandracreasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03803486879189826138noreply@blogger.com0