Kids.

I have to say first and foremost that I am not a mom. I am not a "Mommy Blogger". I have however been blessed with some amazing pseudo-nieces and pseudo-nephews that make me often shake my head. They also make me very grateful that I can pack my crap and run for the hills when shit gets deep and the tantrums and craziness starts. I have never been one of those people that has wanted a big giant family, but I have changed diapers, sang songs, potty trained, made meals/snacks, gave baths, changed clothes, doled out meds, had sleepless nights, hunted for pacifiers at 3 a.m., and kissed boo-boos. I think that it is amazing that the moms and dads around the globe have the patience and fortitude to bring up the future generations. IT amazes me. My hat is off to you; you are rock stars, super hero's, and totally insane!!
I do a little moonlighting as a pseudo-aunt and daycare assistant, and I have to say that kids really keep you on your toes (and push you to the limits of reason and patience). You just never know what they might say or do. And they're quick. Even the best of children leaves the adults in their world thinking, "What the hell just happened here?!" A millisecond is enough time for a child to eat a dozen cupcakes, poor an entire container of Kool-aid in the baby's diaper, and set the house on fire. Just what do you think happens when you walk up to this helmet wielding, arm floaty sporting, princess dress wearing monster about the events while you pull the pin on the fire extinguisher? The stare at you blankly as though you are the one that has lost their mind, "What?" They simply can't fathom why you would be angry that they are covered in peanut butter and sitting in a pile of baking soda on the bathroom floor.
I have never said so many non-intelligible word parts when I haven't been half in the bag: "Wha....ho....Did you...Why....Is there...What the....GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN!!!" I know that I am capable of forming a whole sentence. I am rather wordy as a matter of fact. You don't pull a 3.8 (my best GPA to date) by being a blundering idiot. Do you? Kids are able to, in the blink of an eye, make you feel as though you are losing your faculties. They put grown-ups in some interesting
situations.
Babies aren't all that interesting. Let's face it a baby is about as much fun and entertainment as a potato with legs, but a toddler...now there is a whole other animal. Not that you could convince a new parent that there wrinkled, sour faced bundle of joy is a bit of a yawn (especially when the introduction takes place on the same night that the new season of Game of Thrones starts). Toddlers, on the other hand, are interesting. They are like monkeys with a fishing pole. You never know what they are going to do. One minute they
want to do one thing, then another, then they're singing a song about toe nails... how does a brain work like that? They question everything. Which is sometimes beautiful to see unfold. Other times it leaves you scratching your head and saying things like, "Yes, I have a belly button. No, you can't smell it..."  What is the rational reasoning behind something like that? Sometimes I think that there is some secret way that they communicate and share ideas to torment the adults in their lives that are so strung out and sleep deprived that they probably wouldn't notice a closet full of carrier pigeons that can tap dance out other children's messages in Morse Code.

I just don't know how parents do it. The arguing over bath time and bed time and dinner time and timeouts... come to think of it maybe the real gap for kids and grown-ups is simply time: how they want to spend it and how rational adult brains want them to utilize it. We have much more stock in it than they do. Let's face it if you have no concept of time there is no need to worry about what you are doing with it. I always try to keep in mind that it is hard to be little. They can cry at the drop of a hat, laugh over nothing, find the smallest thing in the yard interesting, climb fearlessly, and effortlessly leave their caregivers in shock and awe. It is like being a geriatric, menopausal, female pot-head in a retirement home (only kids are too short to reach stuff on the top shelf and too new to the world to know what is going to happen next). Simply put: Bill Cosby was right they say the darnedest things, and my mom was right too. They run you ragged, but you love them no matter what. Thank the stars that I can leave all of the crumb-munchers at there houses-- even if I do love them.

You Got Dressed in the Dark, Didn't You?

While dragging my feet (and my ass) to my first class of the day, I passed a young woman that is sporting skinny jeans, a button down shirt, a nice pair of kicks, LIME green hair, and a bow tie to match the hair. I know that she is making a statement about who she is (that she is the eater of rainbow colored candy is my guess), and I support her individuality....but I couldn't help but think: "Isn't it a little early to be breaking out the Leprechaun costume for next year?" I find that this happens to me often. I can't help but wonder why a 250-pound woman would want the words "juicy," or "sexy" or anything else written on her ass. I find that the only thing that I am really digging about going to college for my Bachelors degree at the age of 28 is that it offers me a lot of opportunity to people watch and bask in various degrees of what-the-fuck?
Likewise, who was the genius that originally designed the "jegging"? This has got to be the stupidest piece of clothing designed for the chronically indecisive that I have ever seen. "I totally can't decide between jeans and leggings...I totally, like, wish there were something that would, like, be both..." Said no one ever!!! Now if it were not bad enough that there is this bastardized high-breed pair of pants strolling around campus they have begun to make this gem in animal print....wait there is more. In an attempt to make them look (I am guessing) "punk rock" (a time in rock history that NONE of these kids are old enough to remember or understand)*, they have now turned these animal print wonders into neon colors that have been frayed and turned holey as a fashion statement. These are not pants for everyone. What is the statement by the way? "Hi, I'm a poser." These are pants that are made for woman with that "ideal" runway style figure. They DO NOT work if you are 5' 2' or too thin or too fat or too fond of your self-respect.
Remember when you used to buy jeans because you had WORKED too many holes in your old pairs, and they were too stained because you had changed your own oil, raked your own leaves, and painted your own walls to be worn in public. Well these kids don't. Final thought on these pre-dirtied, worn in jeans. Knock it off. I can buy 6 pairs of gently used jeans at a second hand store for the $30 you spent on reproduced ridiculousness and break them in myself. You want your jeans to look worn. Get in the dirt, do some work, carry some gear, and get a clue.
Now for a note on pajamas, work outwear, and sweatpants that are being worn in public: KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF!! It is not going to kill you to put on yesterday's jeans and give your favorite sweatshirt a sniff just like everyone else! Sweatpants were made for...okay, I don't know what they were made for but they should be worn in doors for channel surfing and housecleaning. Pajamas are nightwear. For sleeping in. The end. Work out wear....is for working out. In a gym. Or at home. It is not meant to be your everyday attire. I can not imagine that any man is ever really turned on by a woman in lounge or gym wear unless he is in a gym or old enough to be sporting his own pjs in the nursing home. I am not saying that we need to go back to corsets and bustles, but come on. In the last three or four generations we have turned the radical idea of wearing jeans into a social norm. Carry on the tradition.
Before we end this session, I feel that I must say something about the lack of clothing on women** in the summer since it has hit 60-degrees in Michigan and people have already lost their damn minds in regards to their wardrobe. I don't know who thought it would be a good idea to manufacture what we old folks used to call "Daisy Dukes"*** that are so short that the pockets stick out about 2 or 3 inches below the leg, but gross. Also, DO NOT wear these ridiculous shorts with a spaghetti strap tank top to a campfire after dark and then whine that you are cold. I am not giving you a long-sleeve shirt or a jacket or an ounce of sympathy. If you are old enough to think you look sexy you are old enough to grab a damn coat! Finally...if you HAVE to wear a bra because your chest is too large not to do not wear a halter top. This statement can be perceived in one of two ways: "Hmm...bra straps look weird with a halter-top" or "Dear God! Get that woman a shirt!" There is no in-between no matter what your self confidence tells you.

*Granted I know that I am not old enough to remember the original punk movement of the 1970's either, but at least I know who the Ramones and the Sex Pistols are.  
**It occurs to me that I have focused primarily on women's fashion in this blog...that simply means that at some point I will even that out by writing a similar blog about men. Look forward to my thoughts on basketball shorts and trucker hats...no I don't mean as two separate outfits.... 
***For all of you young whipper-snappers out there: This is Daisy Duke. -->
She is from a TV show called the Dukes of Hazard. She wore short cut-off denim shorts. The difference between your stupid shorts and hers: She wore them well and with class.

Call the Waaaambulance!

Okay so here is the deal: I get that some people are not very good at being alone. I, fortunately, am not one of them. I refer to this as only child syndrome. I always had to entertain myself as a child, and it has made me a pretty self-sufficient adult. Therefore, I don't really crave that need for togetherness that other people do. THANK WHOEVER IS IN CHARGE OF BLINKING US INTO EXISTENCE (OR THE CHROMOSOMES THAT HAVE MORPHED TO GET US HERE) FOR THAT!

Where am I going with this? You ask. Well hold on a minute! I'm getting there.

I am so sick of people posting on their social media outlets "words of wisdom" about how important it is for someone to find them perfect and irresistible. Let me tell you something: Your chronic whining about how worthy you are of love makes you much less desirable!! Also, there is no such thing as a "perfect" love or relationship. That shit is messy and it takes a lot of work, and people that tell you otherwise are baldfaced liars. Things like, "If you wait too long to tell me you love me, I might not be waiting for you to say it anymore." Is the stupidest fucking thing I have ever heard! If you are waiting for someone to realize that they love you and profess that love to you, you find a better way to spend your time and energy. If you think that it is okay to post a generalized meme like that you are fishing for sympathy not trying to actually gain someone's affection. Get over yourself.

A note on Valentine's Day* and all of the "poor me" posts and "when is it my turn for love" memes that go along with it... 
Quit being such a crybaby about what you don't have and be grateful for what you do have. Just because you sat on the couch on February 14th and ate chocolates doesn't mean that you get to mourn the date that you didn't have. You still got to eat a bazillion empty chocolate calories, call it a win. Besides you have love, as long as you keep buying that expensive cat food and feed them on a regular basis your cats love you. Unless you keep up that baby talk shit. I got an e-mail from Fluffy Puss Whiskerface and Olson the Wonder Cat. They are not diggin' that, and if you keep it up no amount of catnip is going to keep them from leaving while your at work and burning your shit in the yard.

Okay, so back to the I'm-so-sad-please-feel-sorry-for-me-because-I'm-so-alone posts. Oh yeah, the people that are guilty of the "poor me memes" are the same people that post the "why doesn't anyone love me?" posts. Let me tell you something...it isn't that no one loves you. Because if no one loves you then those of us that actually know you outside of social media wouldn't listen to you do this same amount of whining in person. That, my friend, is love. Also, as a side note to those of you that haven't talked to your woe-is-me friend in 10 years, your responding to this foolishness by posting "I love you. Is everything, okay? You can call me if you need to...." isn't necessary. You too need to get over yourself. The person you are consoling is a whiner and if you really believe that after 10 years of not talking to someone that you are the person they need to intercede and tell them how wonderful they are you have delusions of grandeur.

In conclusion, nothing is as bad as it seems. If you are so forlorn about your love life that you need to post your distress on social media to validate you neediness I have a solution for you: Quit blaming others and figure out what it is about yourself that sends people running away from you!!!! I will bet that part of it is your incessant need for validation. You are better than this, and until you figure that out nothing anyone can or does say is going to change the way you feel.

*Consider this my Post-Valentine's Day post.

P.S. I know that I have recently put up a couple of posts about memes that I find stupid. Let me clarify that I love memes. They make me laugh (really hard sometimes). I just hate people that are stupid. End post. ;)

The Evolution of a Hangover

I am hungover. Last night was rough. This is going to be a short but sweet evolutionary "chart" that will help you understand how this happened....

I listened to this...

and this...

 

Then I went here...

Then I started drinking these...

And this...

And when they ran out of what I started with, a few of these.

While I was there I heard a killer rendition* of 

by a phenomenal local musician.**

Then I lost track of

When I finally got  home. I listened to this...

and drank more

Then this morning I literally had to be up at

and I when I looked in the mirror I was greeted by someone that looked like

Even though I had to be like this today 

So against my better judgement I ate

and at 7 a.m. I drank a VERY LARGE

And I am finally starting to feel like the right side of this scale...

 

 

So wish me luck, because today is going to be a real doozie.





* This is the Casey Hurt version. The original is Stevie Wonder. I would imagine that you knew that (or should have) I just wanted to clarify. The version I heard last night ROCKED!! And I like this version too.
**As soon as I find out the name and info about the guy I saw I will let you know so that you can show him your support. Live music is nothing without an audience, people. Support your local musicians you will NOT be disappointed.

Stop Calling Me An Asshole!!

I was reluctant to get on any type of social media site. I watched my friends drop like flies staring at their computers screens for hours typing and clicking away the precious minutes of their lives. I just didn't see the necessity in it, and though I was eventually talked into joining, I still don't really get it. However, I have to say that I am now a droning clicking drooling mind melder. Not my finest moment, but the first step to getting better is to admit that you have a problem.*
I can handle the fact that I have lost hours and even whole days to the drudgery that is cat pictures and clever memes. I can admit that I have spent more time than necessary to selectively organizing my picture boards full of projects that I like in theory but will never accomplish in real life. I thumbs-up the picture of your diapered homely baby because it will hurt your feelings if I don't. I will even give congratulations, condolences, and moral support for you and your children when I am not really invested in what is happening in your life. BUT I CAN NOT STAND MEMES THAT CALL ME AN ASSHOLE!!
Let me elaborate...
I do not need to re-post, share, like, or comment on a photo to clarify that I believe in your god, hate child abuse, want a cure for cancer, need good luck, want world peace, want to find the Land of Lost Socks, complete a Suduko, or what ever it is that you think that I need to prove to continue to be a version of what you think is a good person. Likewise, I am not a bad person, will not have bad luck, won't wake u in a tub of ice without a kidney, or single-handedly increase the severity of the hole in the ozone if I don't re-post your judge-y meme. What makes people think that it is okay to ensinuate that someone is not their "real friend" if they don't share a digital photo that relays an idea that they may or may not share with you? If you want a "real friend" quit putting so much pressure on me to believe everything you do. I value my friends because they are different me with different ideas and values. If we all acted and thought the same way then there would be nothing challenging or interesting about anyone.
On a similar note, if you know that 50 or 60 or 70 or 91 percent of your friends are not going to re-post something take a moment to really consider why you are posting it yourself. Are you posting it because you believe what it is saying? Also, just because the meme says something to the effect of "...but it is okay if you don't re-post this I know you would if you could," realize that you might as well be saying "Since you don't re-post this and believe what I believe and stand by the issues I do you are spineless and I forgive you. Yep, that is what it sounds like. Who's the asshole now?
My point is this: Don't be a lemming. If you want to make a statement make it your own. Be brave enough to personalize an idea. Be able to back up the thought. And most of all, be open-minded enough to accept your friends for who they are. Don't determine the quality of a friendship based on your friends ability to be a bobble-head on a social media forum. There is more to life than that. Power down, let your eyes adjust to a world that has more depth than the 18 inches between yourself and the computer screen, and be the person you insinuate you are. If you want to find a cure for cancer have a bake sale and donate the profits. If you want to end animal abuse create awareness of the problem or take in a rescue animal***. If you want to celebrate your belief in your god go to church or do some charity work on their behalf. But DO NOT threaten me with misfortune or heartlessness if I don't click the "share" button or forward your e-mail.

*I write a blog called Sarcasm or Truth, and I am a mindless social media addict.
**On a similar note, that chain letter that I sent in the 90's never produced a dime, and I am not going to start sharing memes to get thousands of dollars until I see it pay off for someone else.
***We rescued a dog a few years ago and it has been VERY rewarding for us and life-changing for him.

Everything is Coming Up Pumpkin?

So I don't know what it is about this time of year that makes companies think that everything needs to be pumpkin flavored, scented or colored. Now I realize that I am one of very few people that DOES NOT like pumpkin anything...yes, even pumpkin pie. No, I don't need you to convince me that I am wrong by telling me that you or your mother or your grandmother makes the best pumpkin pie that will change my mind forever. No it wont, and I am okay with that. However, I can not imagine that many of these pumpkin products are worth it. Let's talk about a few of these shall we...
1. Pumpkin pie flavored yogurt: I love yogurt, and I am generally up for trying any flavor at least once, but this is where I draw the line. There is no way that I am going to put "thick and creamy" burnt orange colored yogurt in my mouth and be happy. I am pretty sure that while drinking I have expelled things that look more appetizing than that, if you know what I mean. I can't help but wonder how hard it would be to swallow this cinnamon-y concoction when I know full well that pumpkin is generally grainy and that can not be a texture that goes well with the tang of yogurt. Thanks, but no thanks.

 2. Harvest pumpkin body spray and lotion: Seriously? So there is one time a year that a woman will not get angry for being compared to a pumpkin? Any other time of year if you even mentioned to a woman that she was pumpkin shaped or smelled like a pumpkin* she would swat you in your face, but we seem to be okay to smell like pumpkin spiced and flavored goodies once a year. What about the rest of the year? The couple of months that it is going to be okay to smell like Thanksgiving dinner (I imagine that is what you smell like when you combine the pumpkin pie spice smell with the chicken soup smell of B.O) is going to be short lived...and what the hell are you supposed to do with the other two-thirds of a bottle of delightfully fragrance-d goop? By the time that is acceptable to sport this fall flavoring next year the lotion will have separated or crusted into that delightful lotion clump that we all so love. At that point you may as well slather yourself with real pumpkin because that is about how silky smooth it is going to be.

3. Who was the asshole that was sitting around with only a bottle of beer and a can of pumpkin and thought, "I think that I will pour these in a blender and create a new beer"? Boooooo! Beer is not meant to taste like spiced pumpkin anything. It is meant to taste like beer. Period! This is not the Fourteenth Century, we do not need to make mead in order to keep for being poisoned by our water. We no longer use beer and alcohol as a means for daily drinking. Basically, what I'm getting at is this: Unless you have tainted water, beer should not be made out of pumpkins.
4. Pumpkin coffee. Let me slow that down for you (and yes I realize that the tainting of beer with pumpkins ranks higher on my list of offences than coffee) Pum...pkin...co..ff..ee. YUCK!! While it may be great to sip a cup of coffee while enjoying your favorite pumpkin confection (if that is your thing) it is not okay to add the two together and declare it an annual seasonal treat. I can't help but think that all of this pumpkin crap is just a ploy to keep warehouses from housing an over abundance of unneeded pumpkins. Besides, just because they sell something in this vain of foods and drinks at every overpriced coffee conglomerate and fast food feed store doesn't mean that you have to consume it. If you have ever bought a salad shaker from one of these places you know that just because it looks good in the commercial doesn't mean that it is good in real life.
5. Last, and certainly not least (I could go on all day), is something that I never in my life thought that I would see. Are you ready for this? Are you sure? This is one of those things that you can not un-see... Edible Pumpkin Spice Massage Oil. No, this is not for scenting your body. No, this is not for making your skin healthy. Yes, it is for what you think that it is made for. No, I am not making this up. Yes, you can order it online. No, there is nothing about the "massage" process that I would enjoy being pumpkin spice flavored or scented. P.S. If I am not willing to eat pumpkin spiced anything with a fork I am not licking it off anything or anyone either.  I can just hear somebody saying, "Come on baby, lets get our pumpkin on..." Ugghhhh!! Sorry, I just grossed myself out a little. Gag. Just sayin'.

In conclusion, the only pumpkin I will be looking forward to is The Great Pumpkin. However, I will be waiting for him in my living room while eating fruit flavored yogurt**, wearing floral body spray, and drinking the same ordinary beer that I would be any other time of year.

*Have you ever smelled the inside of a pumpkin while you are carving it. That is certainly nothing that I wish to be compared to, and if you can't figure out why take a whiff next time you are creating a ghoulish jack-o-lantern out of triangles and circles.
**Okay, I probably won't be eating yogurt and drinking beer at the same time...but you get where I'm going with this.

Get it together!

So in case you were wondering what has been going on with new postings let me tell you what the hold up is. Recently my laptop (my favorite communication device) has been on the fritz. For reasons unknown to me the gremlins decided to make ten keys on my keyboard in active. This doesn't seem like a problem, and it probably wouldn't be, if the use of the "P", "Delete" , "Comma", "Colon", "Semicolon", and a few other keys weren't a vital part of communication. Who knew? So to fix the keyboard I sent it into the warranty company to be repaired. How wonderful! Free repairs. All I had to do was wait 3-5 business days for an empty box to arrive so that I could send it in to be repaired in 7-10 business days. No big deal and no coast to me. Yay! Not so much. It took 13 days for the box to arrive, and I had to call to see where it was before it was finally sent out to me. Strike One. So I packed up my laptop lovingly and shipped it out. It felt a little like sending a kid to summer camp... if summer camp replaced hardware and gave lobotomies for bad behavior. I didn't think that I would find myself so worried about the safety of an inanimate object. Sometimes I surprise myself. After feeling cut off from the world for what turned out to be another 8 days (a span that felt like an eternity trapped in a genie bottle) I was very excited when the United-I'm-Afraid-Of-Your-Dogs-So-I-Honk-The-Horn-And-Make-You-Walk-To-The-Truck-To-Get-Your-Own-Package (I think that is the companies official name)driver arrived with my newly repaired laptop. Well that was short-lived. I excitedly opened the box.* I'm not going to lie: there was a warm feeling in my heart when I saw my laptop laying there. My euphoria, however, was short lived when I realized that it was splayed upside-down in the packaging with the battery unhinged and the recovery disks haphazardly tossed next to it. Why Mr. Computer Technician, what great packaging skills you have. Strike Two. I carefully replaced the battery and put the recovery disks back on the shelf and started 'er** up. The next few minutes went something like this: A blue screen? How strange. Yes, I want to start my operating system normally. I guess it's okay if that extension can't be started at this time. Wow! They really wiped this thing. Why isn't the disk drive opening? SON OF A BITCH!! So I called customer service who walked me through a troubleshooting operation that I already knew how to do. I got rather familiar with the exhalation patter of the mouth-breather that had to put me on hold 4 times while she "researched my problem." I can tell her the problem-- You sent my laptop into the work room the Friday before our last recent holiday to be fixed by a technician that was probably more concerned with whether the beer was on ice and the steaks were marinating than the well being of my laptop and my sanity. If there were such a thing as a 4th strike now would be the time that it would be awarded. Just sayin'. 49 minutes later I was set up to send my baby (I mean laptop)in again. Cross your fingers, break out your voodoo dolls, cross your T's and dot your I's, stand on your head, send some good joo joo my way. Hopefully, this time my laptop will be returned repaired to the fullest extent in a timely fashion. Apparently, I can use all the help I can get. *Which looked like it had been chosen by a force of delivery company inspectors that test the validity of packages with baseball bats and steel-toed boots. ** 'er: redneck/Midwestern dialect- slang - pronoun: used to identify an object; possible bastardization of "her"; often used to give inanimate objects a persona. i.e. "Get 'er outta there!" or "Start 'er up."