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On Flags and Country

9 Jul

Flags. Man, have we seen a lot on flags lately. Of course, I’m referring to two flags in particular, both of which that incite feelings of hatred, discrimination, division and/or exclusion. One was created purposely to incite those feelings; the other was created to show solidarity among one group of people being excluded and discriminated against.

In this blog, I’m going to address the controversies surrounding the Confederate Battle Flag. While the Supreme Court ruling confirming gay Americans have the same rights to marry as heterosexual Americans is very important, I’ll have to save that for another day. There’s just no way to fit both in one blog.  In this blog, I will not be advocating the total ban of the Battle Flag, removal of Confederate monuments, changing street names, etc. Don’t go getting your panties in a wad before we even begin, okay? I will be addressing only FACTS, my favorite of all the f-words. I will include source material so all of you can look this stuff up for yourself if you think I’m bullshitting.

Buckle down, this one is going to long. There will be material used that should be offensive to you. I will not edit facts just to be politically correct or downplay what happened here in my beloved south. The rewriting of history is how some of us have been misled to believe in false ideologies. You have been forewarned.

Bitch of the Moment:

I am as southern as it gets. I have lived in the south my entire life, with the few months here and there that I lived in a small town in Illinois. I was born and raised in Little Rock, Arkansas and currently live in the Baton Rouge, Louisiana area. All I have to do is speak, and people instantly know what part of the country I am from – I have a truly horrendous, southern accent. I love sweet tea, gossip and crawfish boils. The food, the weather, the landscape and the flora of the south are all very near and dear to my heart. I even love the humidity (yes, I’m odd – I can’t live without humidity as my eczema-ridden ass would dry up completely without it). I could not imagine living anywhere else in the U.S.

Here in the south, I have seen the Confederate Battle Flag displayed prominently and proudly more times than I could ever count. When I was young, many people I knew displaying the flag in and around their homes, family or otherwise, were racist. That’s not an assumption, it’s fact. Some friends couldn’t even go to a friend’s house for a sleepover if that friend’s mother was married to a black man. Where at all possible, separation of races was not encouraged but demanded in these white, southern homes. This wasn’t the 50’s or 60’s, folks. This was the late 80’s and 90’s. There is a portion of this nation’s 30-somethings who were raised this way. Unfortunately, some are now passing that legacy of hate down to their children.

Some of you may be thinking, ‘Well, that’s not how I was raised. I’m not a racist. I display the flag to show my southern heritage as I’m proud to be from the south! The flag is a symbol of states’ rights and not racism.” Great. I’m genuinely ecstatic you didn’t grow up around those types of people. If you see all people as equal, without any prejudgments based on skin color or that race’s culture, you are a phenomenal human being. I, too, am proud to be from the south as I stated above. However, the Confederate Battle Flag and the Confederate Flag (yes, they are two different flags) are not symbols of states’ rights. Even if they were about states’ rights, what was the biggest “right” that the Confederate states were fighting to keep? They both absolutely represent racism, and the only heritage they symbolize are the southern heritage of racism and slavery. There is a reason the Battle Flag was/is flown during lynchings and KKK rallies and was adopted by those defending segregation in the very same states that fought for slavery.

Stay with me, here come the FACTS. When you see a (*), there will be a link taking you to the source material.

First, we have to have a little history lesson before we can get to the actual design of the Confederate flags and their intended meaning as told directly by those that designed them.

What caused the Civil War?

Abraham Lincoln was elected President on November 6, 1860. He was known to the slave-holding states as an abolitionist and hostile to slavery.* Lincoln’s first inauguration was held March 4, 1861. Before Lincoln took office in March 1861, seven states had already seceded from the Union to form a new “permanent federal government”, the Confederate States of America (South Carolina, Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana and Texas). On April 12th, South Carolina (the first state to secede from the Union), fired on Fort Sumter in Charleston, which was held by the Union. The attack on Fort Sumter initiated the Civil War. Four additional states would join the Confederacy shortly thereafter (Virginia, Arkansas, Tennessee and North Carolina).

Why did the Confederate States secede?

Only four of the eleven seceding states issued formal declarations of causes for secession. Those four were: South Carolina, Mississippi, Georgia and Texas.* The other seven states issued ordinances announcing their secession from the Union. Those seven were: Florida, Alabama, Louisiana, Virginia, Arkansas, Tennessee and North Carolina.*

I cannot list every single declaration or ordinance of secession in this blog as it would make it an unbearable read. However, the four states that issued formal declarations of causes for secession make it explicitly clear their reasoning for abandoning the Union (soon after ruled illegal*), and those reasons were the preservation of slavery and the superiority of the white race.

Of the seven remaining states that seceded, Virginia and Alabama reference aligning with slave-holding states in the Confederacy to end the slave-holding states’ “oppression”*. That oppression being the abolishment of slavery.

Louisiana did not reference slavery in their ordinance, but they did in their letter urging the state of Texas to secede from the Union*.

Arkansas, like Louisiana, did not reference slavery in their ordinance. However, my home state tried to have the U.S. Constitution amended to end the “hostility to the institution of African slavery, as it exists in the Southern States, …”*.

Florida apparently drafted a declaration of causes but the committee formed to draft it was dismissed before it was completed. Only an untitled and undated draft remains in the State Archives of Florida*. If this is truly a genuine draft of Florida’s declaration of causes written sometime in February of 1861, it definitely references the preservation of slavery and the inferiority of Africans to whites, stating, “Their natural tendency every where shown where the race has existed to idleness vagrancy and crime increased by the inability to procure subsistence”. As a bonus, this draft also refers to President Lincoln as “an obscure and illiterate man…”. Florida – Keeping It Classy Since 1861.

North Carolina and Tennessee are the only two Confederate states that simply withdrew without mentioning causes.

For those not keeping count, nine of the eleven states that seceded from this country and by their actions caused the largest loss of American soldiers’ lives to date (620,000*), did so to protect the rights of slave owners. Their main objective was to maintain control of their “property”. Slaves were so dehumanized that they weren’t even referred to as people.

In the very likely event that some of you can’t be bothered to click on the (*) links I have so painstakingly provided for you, here are a few gems from those sources (these are all verbatim – I will not correct spelling, grammar, etc.):

Excerpts from Declaration of the Immediate Causes Which Induce and Justify the Secession of South Carolina from the Federal Union, adopted December 24, 1860:

“But an increasing hostility on the part of the non-slaveholding States to the institution of slavery, has led to a disregard of their obligations, and the laws of the General Government have ceased to effect the objects of the Constitution. Here is where the states’ rights argument falls apart. If the seceding states were FOR states’ rights, they wouldn’t have protested other states enacting laws that protected people from degradation and entitled them to the basic, human rights that all Americans are guaranteed. But again, the Confederacy didn’t see slaves as people, they were “property”.  The seceding states were acting against OTHER states’ rights.

It goes on to state: “Those States have assume the right of deciding upon the propriety of our domestic institutions; and have denied the rights of property established in fifteen of the States and recognized by the Constitution; they have denounced as sinful the institution of slavery; they have permitted open establishment among them of societies, whose avowed object is to disturb the peace and to eloign the property of the citizens of other States. They have encouraged and assisted thousands of our slaves to leave their homes; and those who remain, have been incited by emissaries, books and pictures to servile insurrection.” OMG! They gave them books! The horror!

Lastly: “A geographical line has been drawn across the Union, and all the States north of that line have united in the election of a man to the high office of President of the United States, whose opinions and purposes are hostile to slavery. He is to be entrusted with the administration of the common Government, because he has declared that “Government cannot endure permanently half slave, half free,” and that the public mind must rest in the belief that slavery is in the course of ultimate extinction.” That statement says volumes. South Carolina did not want slavery to become extinct so they said, “Fuck you, guys! We’re out!”

Excepts from A Declaration of the Immediate Causes which Induce and Justify the Secession of the State of Mississippi from the Federal Union, adopted January 9, 1861:

Our position is thoroughly identified with the institution of slavery— the greatest material interest of the world. Its labor supplies the product which constitutes by far the largest and most important portions of commerce of the earth. These products are peculiar to the climate verging on the tropical regions, and by an imperious law of nature, none but the black race can bear exposure to the tropical sun. These products have become necessities of the world, and a blow at slavery is a blow at commerce and civilization. This statement isn’t buried in the declaration. It’s starts with the second sentence. Fearing they would have to expose themselves to the tropical sun and actually get their hands dirty OR god forbid, hire workers that would be treated humanely and would receive actual payment for their labor, Mississippi seceded to ensure the prosperity that slavery afforded them.

That we do not overstate the dangers to our institution, a reference to a few facts will sufficiently prove. It advocates negro equality, socially and politically, and promotes insurrection and incendiarism in our midst…. It has enlisted its press, its pulpit and its schools against us, until the whole popular mind of the North is excited and inflamed with prejudice.  Equality? Well we certainly couldn’t have that, could we Mississippi? I think it’s hilarious they complain about prejudice against them.

Excerpt from Communication submitted by Geo. Williamson, Commissioner from the State of Louisiana to the Texas secession convention, written February 11, 1861:

Louisiana looks to the formation of a Southern confederacy to preserve the blessings of African slavery, and of the free institutions of the founders of the Federal Union, be­queathed to their posterity…. Louisiana and Texas have the same language, laws and institutions. They grow the same great staples—sugar and cotton. Between the citizens of each exists the most cordial social and commercial intercourse…. both States have large areas of fertile, uncultivated lands, peculiarly adapted to slave labor; and they are both so deeply interested in African slavery that it may be said to be absolutely necessary to their existence, and is the keystone to the arch of their prosperity. Sounds a lot like what Mississippi had to say, huh?

Louisiana remembers too well the whisperings of European diplomacy for the abolition of slavery in the times of an­nexation not to be apprehensive of bolder demonstrations from the same quarter and the North in this country. The people of the slave holding States are bound together by the same necessity and deter­mination to preserve African slavery. Nothing needs to be said here.

Excerpt from the draft of Florida Declaration of Causes:

By the agency of a large proportion of the members from the non slaveholding States books have been published and circulated amongst us the direct tendency and avowed purpose of which is to excite insurrection and servile war with all their attendant horrors. A President has recently been elected, an obscure and illiterate man without experience in public affairs or any general reputation mainly if not exclusively on account of a settled and often proclaimed hostility to our institutions and a fixed purpose to abolish them. It is denied that it is the purpose of the party soon to enter into the possession of the powers of the Federal Government to abolish slavery by any direct legislative act. This declaration is by far my favorite. The whole thing just rambles on aimlessly and it’s the only one that directly insults Lincoln. “Oooooooh, sick BURN! We really stuck it to him.” I can just imagine them giving each other high fives and slapping each other on the ass.

Now class, what have we learned from our little history lesson? After reviewing the materials outlined, what seems to be the prevailing cause for the secession of Confederate states that led to the Civil War? It’s okay, you can say it. Slavery. That’s right, A+ for all of you.

On to the flag(s)! I can’t link to an electronic source for this part. So here is the source material that you can look up if you wish. The part on the Confederate flags starts on Page 383: Our Flag: Origin and Progress Of The Flag of the United States of America with an Introductory Account of the Symbols, Standards, Banners and Flags Of Ancient and Modern Nations By Captain George Henry Preble, U.S.N., 1872. 

The Flag(s) of The Confederate States of America

All Three Versions of the Flag

The Confederacy had several issues with the design of their flag.

The first version, the “Stars and Bars” was meant to look similar to the Union flag. They were essentially stripping the United States flag of “their stars and bars”. The issue with this flag was that it looked too similar to the Union flag. During battle or in undesirable weather conditions, it was too hard to tell the flags apart. It proved problematic during the First Battle of Bull Run.

The second version of the flag sought to end the confusion and to completely separate the Confederacy from the Union. The man who designed the “Stainless Banner” was William T. Thompson, Editor of Savannah Morning News. As he was the Editor of the “News”, he had the free reign to publish his intent with regard to the flag’s design. I’m very glad he did. Directly from the man himself:

Our idea is simply to combine the present battle flag with a pure white standard sheet; our southern cross, blue, on a red field to take the place on the white flag that is occupied by the blue union in the old United States flag or the St George’s cross in the British flag. As a people we are fighting to maintain the heaven ordained supremacy of the white man over the inferior or colored race a white flag would thus be emblematical of our cause. There it is in black and white. This isn’t conjecture; this isn’t a broad interpretation – this is directly from the man who designed the flag that was to represent this new government. This is the heritage he sought to convey.

But again, the Confederacy had issues with this version. As it was on a predominantly white sheet, when the flag wasn’t flying at full mast, say on a windless day, it looked like the flag of surrender or truce.  You can see why that would cause problems.

The third and final version, the “Blood Stained Banner”, kept Thompson’s original design but added a vertical red bar to the end to prevent it being seen as a flag of surrender. Mr. Thompson, once again, took up his pen to state:

Such a flag would be a suitable emblem of our young confederacy, and sustained by the brave hearts and strong arms of the south, it would soon take rank among the proudest ensigns of the nations and be hailed by the civilized world as THE WHITE MAN’S FLAG. By the way, I didn’t capitalize that last bit. That is exactly as it was published. There shouldn’t be any confusion over what he meant. He emphasized it for us.

The Confederate Battle Flag

The Southern Cross

This is not the flag of the Confederate States of America. This is the Confederate Battle Flag. It was designed by Colonel William Porcher Miles. Col. Miles doesn’t say much in as far as what he wished the flag to convey. He mainly spoke of preserving the red, white and blue in the flag and avoiding religious objections by having the cross displayed diagonally instead of upright. However, he did write this with regards to getting recognition for designing the Battle Flag after the war was over: It is certainly not worth while for us vanquished Confederates to contend among ourselves for the honor (if there be any honor in it) of having designed it and cheerfully would I yield my own pretensions to any merit whatever in the matter. The very man who designed this flag said he would gladly give up any claims to it. If the creator of this flag found no honor in it, why should we 150 years later?

Even Robert E. Lee distanced himself from this flag or any other divisive symbols from the Civil War that his side lost. He declined invitations to be honored from the Gettysburg Battlefield Memorial Association, stating, “I think it wiser moreover not to keep open the sores of war.” Even in death, Lee abstained from promoting the Confederate cause. There were no flags flown at his funeral, Confederate or otherwise.

This was the flag flown during battle by the Confederate soldiers. It’s the banner under which men fought and died to enact secession, with the ultimate goal of preserving slavery. It’s not a symbol to be proud of or one that should be used to express our southern heritage. It definitely should not adorn any state or federal building in this country, as that flag does not represent the United States of America. It represents separation, not unity.

If you bothered to click on the (*) links above, you’d know that no state may secede from the Union (U.S. Supreme Court case, Texas vs. White, 1869). Therefore, this is a flag of treason. Sugar-coat it anyway you want, that’s what it is. If a large group of individuals today decided to shed allegiance to the U.S., and carried out an attack on a U.S. military installation, would they be called heroes or domestic terrorists? If you are a proud to be an American and love the freedoms you enjoy as a citizen of this UNITED country, this flag does not represent that sentiment.

Conclusion

Now, I said in the beginning that I do not advocate the total ban of the Battle Flag. I believe this flag does have its place.

It belongs in museums and textbooks, so that future generations can learn from our past transgressions. Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. I don’t believe the flag or what it represents should be white-washed or revered as some sacred artifact from the South’s glorious past (Texas, do you hear me?). It should be represented as what it was and still is, a symbol of degradation and oppression.

It also has its place in Civil War reenactments. These are historical demonstrations and they provide valuable learning opportunities. These reenactments are a way to remember the 620,000 fallen soldiers and they provide a historical perspective on the turbulent times during the Civil War. Not all soldiers who fought for the Confederacy were bad people who advocated slavery; many were there unwillingly (look up the Confederate law of national conscription if you want more info on that). They died fighting a war they did not volunteer for and as such, they deserve to be honored along with Union soldiers who died in battle.

It also has a place in individuals’ homes if they wish to display it. We, as United States citizens, are free to express ourselves. If someone wants to fly this flag on their property, they have every right to do so. I don’t want to live in a country where personal expression isn’t allowed. However, just know if you do decide to fly this flag in or around your home, you are being judged. Anyone displaying the Confederate Battle flag will be judged in the same manner as those judged for flying a Nazi swastika or an ISIS flag (again, they have the right to do so if they wish). All three flags symbolize genocide, oppression and discrimination. If that’s what you wish to convey, go ahead and fly the Southern Cross. If it’s not, I beseech you to reconsider and find a flag better suited to represent your “southern heritage”. The only flag I plan on using to display my “southern heritage” is a New Orleans Saints flag. Can I get a “Who Dat?!?”

I’m proud of this flag. Who Dat?!?

Bitchin Moment:

I can’t leave without saying at least one thing about marriage equality: Love won!

Liberty & Justice For All

Liberty & Justice For All

Later Bitches!

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I am Woman, Hear Me ROAR!!!

27 Jun

Bitch of the Moment:

One should not be fuming after a relaxing soak in the pool. But I am. Some dipshit has gone and riled up the Feminazi in me by saying something in a sad attempt to be funny, coy, what-the-fuck-ever.

After he bitched on a friend’s Facebook post how unfair it is that gay men are lumped (by other gay men) into all sorts of subsets based on appearance and preferred sexual positioning before being deemed date-able or not, this guy then decided to share his observations (as a gay man) on how women decide if men are dating material: “Last I checked women don’t decide a guy is not date material based only on specific physical criteria. They’re more worried about their annual income ;)”

First of all, if he thinks women don’t base whether of not a man is date-worthy based on specific, physical characteristics they possess, well then he obviously doesn’t know ANY fucking women. I’ve heard my fellow ladies stipulate that in order for them to date someone, that person: Can’t be bald, can’t be short, must be tall, must be blonde, has to be skinny, has to be built, so on and so forth. Women are just as shallow as men, gay or straight, in this area. Women are more likely than men to overcome any physical objections they might have about a possible mate if they get to know them and have come to like/love them as a person. All this is moot since that is not what gave me a case of the red-ass.

What pissed off the usually quiet feminist in me is the “annual income” remark followed by the little smiley face. I’d like to punch this shithead in his smiley face. First of all, while there may be a group of women who do base a man’s “dateability” on his bank account, they certainly aren’t the majority. To lump all women into the gold-digger pot is absurd, insulting and just fucking stupid. I don’t know this guy (gladly so,) but it makes me wonder what type of women he surrounds himself with. Again, I’m convinced he doesn’t know any – none worth a shit anyway.

Most women who have decided to be with someone couldn’t give a shit less about their monetary worth. If a woman decides not to date a man, it’s because he falls in one of her “subsets” based on physical/personality criteria. Example, the “Schmuck Subset”: Douchebags, Girly-Men, Frat Boys (interchangeable with Douchebags,) Momma’s Boys, Metrosexuals (not to be confused with Girly-Men,) Assholes, Meatheads and on and on. Or, likelier than insufficient funds in his account, she might have decided not to date him because he was a lousy lay. We womenfolk can be just as harsh as men in that arena which has absolutely NOTHING to do with fucking money. What a fucking twatwaffle. ARGH!

To add insult to injury, as the comments were flying back and forth, he retorts to one of my comments with this: “… but I do think money matters more. A lot of women will date a guy that is everything they hate if they can convince them they’ll spoil them. Let’s take a douchebag frat-boy who isn’t very doable then make him CEO of Giant Douche LLC and see how his prospects change.” Who the hell is this guy hanging out with??? Do any of you know a woman who would be with someone they abhor just for monetary spoils? Are there enough shiny new cars or diamonds that would make being with a complete cock-knocker tolerable for you or anyone you know? I just cannot fathom the kind of women this guy is referring to. It would take an awfully ignorant woman to be with a man who represents “everything they hate” just for the sake of nice shit. Well, considering how stupid he is, it shouldn’t surprise me that he’d associate with cunts women like that. He and those women (if they actually exist) should go play in traffic. Grrrrr!!!

*Since this was an impromptu blog, fueled by seething anger for someone so ignorant, I do not have a Bitchin Moment prepared at this time. I did not want to put off posting this for fear that the anger would wane, therefore losing the “need” there was for me to introduce you all to this whiny bitch. I’ll try to make the next Bitchin Moment really good to make up for it.

Later Bitches!

Momma, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Douchebags

8 Dec

Bitch of the Moment:

Now I know what you’re thinking: “She’s not going to call children douchebags, is she?”

Yes, she is.

Admit it, you’ve all thought it. Kids can be douche-y sometimes. There is no age minimum on the ability to exude douche-like behavior.  Sometimes, just sometimes, you witness a kid doing or saying something so abhorrent or tasteless that you say to yourself (or aloud like I do,) “What a douche!”

I want to tell you about the little douchecanoe that inspired this blog. I do not know this child. I’ve never laid eyes on this child nor heard him speak. With all that said, I know he is well on his way to becoming a Class A douchenozzle. I know this because of what he told my child.

About a week before the election, the Oldest came home from aftercare quite worried. As I was making something resembling dinner, he told me in a very concerned voice that we just HAD to vote for Romney. Now, this took me back because the Hubby and I never talk about politics with our son. I wasn’t aware that my son even knew that Romney was running for President. You all know by now who I was voting for but my son did not. I have not and will not push my political agenda/opinions on my children because I do not want to indoctrinate them into my way of thinking. I want my kids to think for themselves, to be capable of critical thought. I know, the horror!  Besides, the fucking kid is 6 years-old! Why on Earth would I tell my kid who they should want to vote for 12 years before it’s even a possibility. I digress.

I got my wits about me and asked him WHY we just HAD to vote for Romney. Again, looking very anxious and concerned, he says, “Because if Obama wins, he’s gonna kill all the white people!”  What. The. Fuck? My kid was sitting in front of me about to cry, thinking if the current President won the election he was going to die because he was white. This bitch went RED! What racist, piece of shit told my son this nonsense? Who was going to incur my wrath and be on the receiving end of a right and proper bitch-slap?Gathering all the restraint I could muster, I asked him where he heard that statement.

I was expecting an adult’s name. I don’t know why but I did. Children (at least kids I surround my family with anyway) usually don’t emit such derogatory sentiments. We live in the deep south. Good ol’ boys are alive and well and…..well, stupid. It’s not uncommon to hear the “N” word thrown around carelessly at all-white functions that involve alcohol, football or spicy, boiled crustaceans on a newspaper-lined table. Luckily, I haven’t heard it dropped around my kids by anyone I know otherwise they wouldn’t know us anymore. BitchinMommy don’t play that. Back to the douchehat at hand.

My son tells me that a kid that he talks to at aftercare warned him what would happen if Obama won. I had to sit and explain to my child that his President was NOT going to kill him simply because he was white. That the President had already been in office for four years and so far had not killed one white person because they were born white. I explained to him that the kid who told him that did not know what he was talking about. I told him the kid was stupid. Yeah, I told my kid that another kid was stupid. If he’s “grown” enough to be handing out political advice to my six year-old, he’s grown enough to be called an idiot. Finally, I told my son that when he’s old enough, he would be able to form his own opinions on who he should vote for and should never let someone else’s fear-tactics and prejudice influence his decisions. He should seek FACTS (you know how I love those) and then choose the candidate who represents his views the best. He said, “Okay, Mommy” and then went about playing Angry Birds, waiting on his pseudo-dinner to be finished.

This kid may not be a full-fledged douche yet, but he’s well on his way. He could wind up turning into a decent, unbiased man who loves all people equally. I’m not going to hold my breath. And who’s to blame for this boy’s ignorance now and the possibility that he will fall off into the Douche Abyss as an adult? You know who. His parents/guardians/mouth-breathing bigots, etc.

Even if you are a shitty parent, your kid wants to be just like you. “Mom” and “Dad” equal God on the lips of children. At the end of the day when everyone else thinks you’re a complete twatwaffle, your kid loves you. They hang on your every word and emulate you at every given opportunity. They are watching you, studying you, soaking it all in. They truly are sponges. Once they’ve absorbed enough, they are going to start wringing it out all over the place, regardless if it’s appropriate to do so. Any parent who has dropped F-bombs in front of their kids can attest to that as fact. I’ll never forget the first time my kid yelled “Motherfucker” across a playground. A word he had learned because he had sat too many times in traffic with Road Rage Mommy.

This kid is learning to be a bigot at home. He’s regurgitating sentiments he hears from the adults he trusts the most. Sentiments that may get him a good ass-beating if repeated in front of the wrong audience. To instill hatred of any kind in your children is despicable on a level that can’t be measured. You are limiting their possibilities, their growth as people before they’ve even had a chance to really experience the world and wonder where life will take them. You are ensuring the next generation of douchebag-backwash, because honestly, they are what’s left of you in the end.

I was nice this time by only saying the kid was stupid. The next time my son comes home repeating shit from this little sponge-of-hate, I’m going to send him back with a few gems to repeat for the whole Douchebag Family to enjoy.

Bitchin Moments:

Today was pretty bitchin’. It was Free Food Friday at work. The first Friday of every month, my firm caters breakfast for everyone in the office. Good breakfast, not hard biscuits and day-old donuts. Also, for the first time in a long time, I got to enjoy lunch with the Hubby. I got to meet some of his co-workers and enjoy a delicious Five Guys burger. Dayum, Dayum, Dayum! (If you don’t get it, go to youtube and type in Dayum. It’s worth it.) Lastly, Santa Clause made the rounds in the office and left us all a very nice CASH Christmas bonus which was sorely needed as bills took most of our paychecks this week.

We have most of our Christmas shopping done so that’s a relief. I braved the Black Friday crowds and actually scored some really good deals. It really wasn’t that bad this year. I cheated a bit, though. I didn’t go right when everything opened up. I waited about two hours. The crowds had died down, there was still plenty to choose from and I didn’t have to wait in line to check out. So all-in-all, I kicked Black Friday’s ass. Woot!

I’ve started couponing again. I had been slacking for a while and my checkbook definitely showed it. Since I’ve started back, I’ve made some of the best scores I have EVER made. One trip to Walgreen’s netted me $30 in products for 15 cents plus tax. The next day, I nabbed $60 in products from Rite Aid for 18 cents plus tax. I couldn’t believe it. You’d have thought I won the Powerball. I was that stoked. I need to post the pics and contents but that shit ain’t happenin’ tonight, this morning, whatever. I’m doing good just to publish this blog. I’m not going to push it.

Later Bitches!

Welfare Recipients Want My Money (all $4.74 of it)

2 Aug

Bitch of the Moment:

By posting this, you're telling everyone, "I am an amazing douche nozzle!"

I prefer my tasteless ecards to contain typos and punctuation errors. It adds to the credibility.

Does this look familiar? Have these insulting, derogatory pieces of garbage been cluttering up your Facebook news feeds? When I don’t have anything of substance to say and I’m not busy wiping snot, cooking dinner that no one eats or wondering what I’ve stepped in, I too post ecards on my news feed. The difference is: mine are funny, this one is not. It’s mean. It’s belittling. It’s kicking those that are down. Even if its intent is to criticize only a select demographic on government assistance, it is hurtful to ALL those unfortunate enough to require help.

I am starting to avoid Facebook. The constant stream of hateful, nonfactual and racist sentiments that constantly invade my attempt to escape reality are honestly depressing me.  I am struggling to find good in those around me. I was clueless as to the number of my “friends” that are incapable of critical thinking. The sheer amount that will believe anything they come across because it feeds what they think they “know” is astonishing. Get your facts from credible sources, folks. Someecards.com, Fox News, CNN and the I_wanna_blow_a_teabagger.com ain’t it. And so help me, if you take any cues from Rush Limbaugh, make yourself an appointment ASAP because you’ve been eating lead paint or have suffered a brain injury.

I think it’s safe to say you all know which way my political dick sways. I’m as liberal as they come. I’m so far left, it’s amazing I don’t have sex with trees. I look within myself to determine what is right and just and that’s the path I take. My path is just a little more green than most, maybe even rainbow. Having said that, I do not berate those who do not share my views and opinions. You’ll never hear me say, “I hate Conservatives,” or “I hope all Republicans die.” (BTW, I’ve had several of my “friends” post statements such as those about Democrats and Liberals.) We all have the right to our opinions and to voice them. That’s what makes America great. What I have a problem with is when opinions are passed off as truth when they have absolutely no basis in fact. Political strategists selectively edit and twist information (or just plain make shit up) and feed it to the masses like mother’s milk because they know people will latch on to the tit and suck it dry. No one bothers to check where the mother’s milk comes from, however. Turns out, mother is “the man” and they’ve been sucking his dick for years. So THIS mother is going to lay down some facts for you. They’ll be hard to swallow at first, but it’s good for you. Better than the “milk” you’ve been getting from the man at any rate.

I will cite all my sources for those of you who doubt what I’m going to say here. I will not be getting my information from blogs, party-specific websites or someecards. http://www.IwannahaveObamasbabies.com will not be referenced either so have no fear. Here goes:

What is “Welfare”?

Do any of you know the definition of Welfare and what it entails? You do? Well, just for shits and giggles, I’m going to lay it out for you anyway:

Welfare: Statutory procedure or social effort designed to promote the basic physical and material well-being of people in need. (http://oxforddictionaries.com)

What it entails:

*Unemployment (Unemployment Trust Fund, Unemployment Recovery efforts, Railroad & Federal Unemployment – this is mainly Federal unemployment extension benefits – not regular benefits provided at state level and covers all federal civilian and MILITARY unemployment benefits [http://www.policyalmanac.org/social_welfare/archive/unemployment_compensation.shtml])
*Food and Nutrition Assistance (SNAP, WIC, Commodity Assistance [food banks,] Child Nutrition Programs [school lunches,] Funds for Strengthening Markets, Income & Supply [something to do with the purchase of fresh fruits & vegetables for distribution to schools and service institutions by the Secretary of Agriculture]) If your kid gets free or reduced lunch at school, you are on “The Welfare.”
*Housing Assistance (1st Time Home Buyer’s tax credit, tenant-based and project-based rental assistance, grants for states that opt for housing projects in lieu of low-income housing credits [that’s fucked,] home investment partnership program, housing for the elderly) I now know I was on “The Welfare” when I received the 1st Time Home Buyer’s credit when I bought my first home.
*Earned Income, Making Work Pay, and Child Tax Credits (various tax credits for people who WORK or have EARNED INCOME, and/or have children)  Most everyone I know is on “The Welfare” since they receive one or more of these tax credits.
*Supplemental Security Income (support for low-income elderly, blind or disabled people which includes expenditures for administrative costs and RECOVERY efforts. Also covers survivor benefits http://www.ssa.govIf your spouse has died and you receive SSI benefits because you are raising their child, you are on “The Welfare.”
*Civilian Employee Retirement and Disability (part of Worker’s Comp) (just what it says – government employee retirement funds – but you don’t hear of folks bitching about this) 
*Child Care, Foster Care, and Adoption Support (Adoption tax credits, foster care payments, Federal share of child support payments, child care assistance programs, early education and afterschool programs) If your child attends Head Start, you are on “The Welfare.”
*Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (time limited assistance for needy families) I do not know anyone currently receiving TANF benefits, none that have told me anyway.
*Railroad Retirement and Additional Income Security (part of Worker’s Comp) (retirement pensions, social security equivalent and unemployment for rail workers, District of Columbia Federal Pensions, Black Lung Disability & disabled coal miners benefits – seriously WTF?) If you have Black Lung and receive benefits, you are on “The Welfare.” Again, WTF? Who the fuck has Black Lung these days?

(Breakout of how Income Tax is distributed from http://www.whitehouse.gov )

How many of you thought it was just free checks, food stamps and WIC? But guess what, it goes beyond that. Each one of those categories consists of MANY sub-categories, some of which I listed. How many you ask? Total, there are around 117. Don’t believe me? I’ll even throw the conservatives a bone. You can see all the sub-categories that make-up Welfare at http://www.usgovernmentspending.com. This is a pro-teabagger, conservative site but they have government budget and spending information that dates back to 1902. I do not take into account any numbers they list as estimates or guesstimates, and you shouldn’t either. If it’s not an actual statistic, it’s ignored.

So, of those numerous sub-categories, which one makes up what most people define as Welfare that robs hard-working Americans of their money to give to those that “refuse” to work? Here you go:

TANF (Temporary Assistance for Needy Families): Cash assistance program providing assistance to needy families. (Department of Health & Human Services) This is what a lot of people commonly think solely makes up Welfare. This does not include food stamps. (Food stamps will be covered in the next blog.)

  • How long can recipients draw assistance? Some people think you can sit back and collect cash as long as you want, living the high life on all that free money. FALSE. There are time restrictions. An adult can only draw funds for a total of five years in their lifetime, and that’s only if they meet requirements. (DHHS.gov)
  • What are the requirements? A family of four can only make up to $1,178 in gross monthly income (remember folks, that’s before Uncle Sam takes taxes and you pay premiums for whatever insurance benefits you may or probably don’t have.) There are also countable resource amount restrictions. CARS ARE NOT CONSIDERED COUNTABLE RESOURCES! More on that later in the food stamp blog. (DHHS.gov) Oh, just an FYI: If our needy family is a single parent household and is fortunate enough to collect child support, states can count that as unearned income and does factor into eligibility requirements. (TANF Ninth Annual Report to Congress)
  • How much will recipients get? The benefit standard for a family of four is $500 a month. (DHHS.gov) Math time. Yay! If your gross income is $1,178 a month, after a standard deduction rate of 25% is taken for insurance premiums (if they have benefits) and taxes, your take home amount will be around $884. Add in the possible $500 benefit and your needy family has a monthly income of $1,384. That’s $16,608 a year to support four people. I’m sure they’ll use that exorbitant amount of money to furnish their mansions.
  • Who are the recipients? There seems to be a running consensus among my “friends” that only African-Americans are on “The Welfare.” Why would I say that? Maybe it’s the thinly-veiled, racist sentiment shown in all those oh-so-funny ecards. I guess they could be implying the rims, Kools and 40’s were bought by Sissy Lynn from the mountains of West Virginia using our tax dollars…but I doubt it. Regardless, the consensus is FALSE. The Ninth TANF Annual Report to Congress (http://www.acf.hhs.gov/programs/ofa/data-reports/index.htm) was released in May of this year for FY 2009. As of 2009, 33% of 1,726,560 families receiving TANF were African-American. 31% of those families were white. The number of African-American families utilizing TANF assistance has decreased every year since 2004, while the number of white families has increased. Here’s another fun fact: The African-American numbers include African-American and white bi-racial persons. The white numbers? Nothin’ but crackers. We wouldn’t want to sully our demographic by including half-breeds would we? Even with that information taken into account, I’m willing to bet that whitey has bypassed the African-American/bi-racial demographic since 2009 (we already have in SNAP recipients – info on that later.) We’ll find out next year when the Annual Report is released for FYE 2010.

Also, when you hear people wailing about all the good-for-nothings living it up on the taxpayer’s dime, it’s always referencing   someone at the grocery store dressed to the nines, with a Coach bag and the latest electronic gadget buying soda and doughnuts with food stamps or TANF money. You know who they don’t mention? The largest demographic receiving assistance from the government: children. The 1,726,560 families that made up TANF recipients in 2009 consisted of 4,041,344 people. 973,580 were adults and 3,067,764 were children. For the math-challenged, that’s 76%. What a bunch of lazy, little shits we have in America. Why don’t they pick themselves up by their bootstraps and become honest, tax-paying members of society like the rest of us? Isn’t there a sweatshop somewhere they can work at in order to support their families instead of wasting more of our tax dollars attending public school? We all know Welfare kids aren’t going to graduate high school anyway, right? If someone is going to post snide, demeaning commentary on Welfare recipients for the world to see, I want to see them ball up and post something in that vein. Let’s see how many “likes” they can get on that ecard – which I’m positive they would get many. At least you’d know who you can clean out of your friends list that week.  At the end of the day, you can infer all you want about the adults utilizing the TANF program even if you are completely full of shit. Whether you think it’s laziness, irresponsibility and/or greed that got the adults there – kids didn’t fucking ask to be born into a poor family. They didn’t make any financial or personal decisions that resulted in them requiring government assistance in order to have the bare essentials most of us take for granted. Toothpaste, diapers, clothes and shoes are luxuries to most of these kids. As a former child recipient of government assistance, I can state that as fact.

  • What are WE paying for TANF? “We” don’t care about those needy families, do we? What do “we” care about? ME! That’s who. So how much does it cost ME to “support” these lazy freeloaders? Spending for FYE 2012 is budgeted at $3.729 trillion (usgovernmentspending.com.) Of that astronomical figure, $17.2 billion is budgeted to be spent on TANF. That’s .46% of the total spending budget. Less than half of 1% of MY tax dollars helps ensure someone less fortunate than ME can keep their lights on or put gas in their cars so they can get to (or look for) the jobs everyone says they don’t have (or don’t want.) If you do nothing else with the information I’ve spent hours collecting for this blog, do this:
    • Go to http://www.whitehouse.gov/2011-taxreceipt.  You can enter information from your last tax filing on this site and it will tell you where your tax dollars went. Or, you can do as I did and take your last pay stub and input your YTD tax withholding to see where your money would be allotted  this year. Wanna know what MY contribution to TANF is so far this year? I’ve got nothing to hide. So far, the big, bad, Socialist, Obama government has allotted $4.74 of my tax dollars to help those less fortunate than me. Well, fuck! I guess that means I’ll have to skip that grande, half-fat, no foam, caramel mochaccino this month so the 2 million+ needy families on TANF don’t freeze to death this winter. I’m so fucking oppressed. *side note: $53 of my money has gone to Research, Development, Weapons and Construction. Nice. Can’t wait for you all to see how much of your tax dollars are going to Defense and Pensions. It’s AWESOME.

We all know how bad it is out there these days. Things are getting better, not by leaps and bounds like we’d like but the mass layoffs have died down. The jobs, however, haven’t been raining down from heaven. People can’t find work. Most of the people affected by the Recession of 2008 where people like you and me. People with good jobs, a mortgage, 2 cars and kids. We weren’t rich but we were stable and happy. In the blink of an eye, people lost everything. First their paychecks, then their homes, then hope.  They didn’t give up and decide to live on government assistance. They looked for work, some are STILL looking for work. What about Taco Bell? Why can’t they go work at fucking Taco Bell? Because Taco Bell won’t fucking hire them. FedEx won’t hire them to drive a truck. Why? They’re overqualified. No one likes hiring folks they know aren’t going to stick around if they find a job in their field of expertise. Also, the 20 year-old manager at Taco Bell doesn’t like it when the help is smarter than he is. Might show him up and take his job. Also, if they were lucky enough to get hired on at Taco Bell, they’d still need (and would still qualify for) TANF benefits. You can’t support four people on $8.50 an hour. Ask me, I should know. I can regale you with childhood stories of sleeping in a car for more nights than I care to remember because we couldn’t afford a place to stay, not even a hotel.

My husband was laid off on February 20th in 2009. He had worked for the world’s largest retailer in IT for seven years, had a degree and was young. He should have had no problem finding a job right? It took four months. We are still recovering from the hole we fell in during that time. We were lucky. He did get a severance package, all of which was used to get us out from under our house we had to sell so we didn’t go into default. A lot of people laid off didn’t get severance packages. Still playing catch up, we decided last fall that I had to go back to work provided I could find a job that would cover the cost of daycare and still help pay the bills that were starting to overwhelm us again. I, too, worked for the world’s largest retailer as a contracts administrator and as a VP assistant. I should have easily found a secretarial job, data entry position, something. I applied everyday for three months. I only had three interviews that entire time. I was applying for receptionist jobs towards the end. When I did find work, it was a temporary position. No benefits, no long-term guarantees and not a whole lot of money. I was fortunate enough to get offered a permanent position and I’m thankful everyday for it. Others out there have not been as fortunate. One of my friends was laid off in California in February of 2009 as well. She worked in sales. Again, nothing too technical or specialized, so it should have been easy for her to find work. She was out of work for ten months. She didn’t find another job until she moved back to our home state.

Don’t make assumptions. You don’t know these people receiving assistance. You don’t know how they got to where they are or what they had BEFORE they required help from the government. The fact that someone drives something other than a piece of shit does not mean they are scamming the system. It could mean it’s a family member’s car or that they had a nice car before they lost their job, or their spouse died or they got divorced. Just because the girl buying groceries with an EBT card has an iPhone doesn’t mean she used her Welfare check to buy it. She could have been given that phone as a gift or got it as a hand-me-down. Every time I upgrade my phone, I give my old one away to someone who could use it and most times it’s a really nice phone. Don’t assume anything. Take the time to get to know some of these “freeloaders” and see if you really ‘know” anything at all.

Some people abuse the system. I won’t ever deny that. There’s always going to be people out there that take advantage of any situation. This isn’t happening with Welfare as often as some like to spew it is, but it does happen. If you know someone who is taking assistance under false pretenses, REPORT THEM. You wanna do something about your $4.74 being squandered? Do your part as a citizen and make a fucking phone call instead of bitching from your porch. I’ll do you a solid, here’s the number:  1-800-447-8477. That’s the Inspector General for the Department of Health and Human Services. Be part of the solution by doing something. Posting snarky ecards and Rush Limbaugh soundbites doesn’t make you part of the solution … I’m too nice to say what it really makes you.

That’s all for now. I really hope that some of you have learned at least one thing from all this information I have gathered. I know I learned a lot more than I expected to. Have questions or want more information on something specific? Leave ’em in the ol’ comments section. I’ve already started the food stamp blog. I should have it out next week. Hopefully, there will still be some of you around to read it.

Later Bitches!

Ah….Ummm…..Er….WTF?!?!?!?!

25 Jan

Bitch of the Moment:

It’s happened. I’m finally come across something that is so COMPLETELY fucking ridiculous, I have no words. It has left me dumbfounded and just, WHAT THE FUCK?!? I….uhhhh…..yeah. Read THIS and then come back. I’ll wait.

Someone please tell me this is a gag. I read this aloud to the hubby because, well first, I wanted someone’s else’s brain to melt from the absurdity. But I kinda had to say it out loud to believe this is something really going on out there. The hubs was just as taken aback as I was. He said it couldn’t be real; it had to be a troll. For the love of Prada, someone tell me he’s right. My fucking eyes are bleeding from having read it.

What psycho-mom does this? My mom didn’t handle the whole “starting” thing well when my time came* but I infinitely prefer her response to this, this….fuck, whatever kinda response this is.

* Exact conversation that occurred when I discovered I had become a woman (a euphemism that still crawls all over me):

” Mom!” I yelled from the bathroom.

“What?” She yelled back.

“I, uh, I started.” 

“Pads are under the sink.”

End of conversation.

My mom didn’t sit down with me, explain how or what to use, ask how I was feeling or if I had any questions. She left me to my own devices because she knew I could handle it on my own. She sure as shit didn’t dare suggest I invite all my besties over to play deranged tampon games, thereby humiliating me and scarring me for life. I have no hang-ups on periods. I don’t feel I was deprived of a “special” moment or bonding experience because my mom reacted the way a lot of moms react. She didn’t take my experience and turn it into her experience. She knew that if I had questions, I’d come to her on my own as I did with everything else in life.

Maybe I’m the weird one. Hanging out with my girls, discussing the bane of our existence ad nauseam and trying to convince ourselves that it’s butterflies and rainbows coming out of our hoo-has instead of just uterine lining is not my idea of a fun night. I bitch about my periods just like everyone else and then I move on. I don’t reflect on the beauty of it or how it makes me “special” because guess what? It doesn’t. There’s a billion other bitches out there bleeding, too. Other bitches that didn’t need a “Period Party” to cope with a basic biological function. Jeebus Krizzle! People are stupid!

Bitchin’ Moments:

I still feel dirty from the stupid that I am now covered in from having read that. Something has to replace it. Like now.

So without further ado, here are some of the gems that we have uncovered recently. I like to call them “WTF LULZ!” Enjoy:

You know you’re jealous of their legs. Also, I want to take the turn they do in this video and work it into a line-dance. So. Not. Kidding.

“Come on now and take a chance! Come on please, do that booby dance!”

“Honey badger don’t care. Honey badger don’t give a shit. Honey badger just takes what it wants.” It wasn’t until our own “Honey Badger” didn’t take what he wanted in that game (puke) that I was finally introduced to Randall. My life wasn’t complete before.

I was introduced to Marcel at a party (all parties lead to YouTube I have found) by one of my favorite college students. At first you’re all like, “Huh? Wha?” but then you find yourself thinking about it hours later laughing to yourself. Come here….Come here….I love you…. Lulz!

Later Bitches!

Whoever Coined “Silence is Golden” Had a Son Like Mine

26 Oct

Bitch of the Moment:

I love my son. I love my son. I LOVE MY SON. No, really, I do.

The kid has so many wonderful qualities, I could honestly go on listing them for days and still have more to add. Why, then, does it take so very little to make me forget that long list of attributes completely?

I’ve said this before and I’ll probably say it a thousand more times before this blog disappears into the abyss, but, my kid NEVER shuts up. His talking is relentless. It drains the very life-force from me  and the hubby. It’s physically exhausting trying to keep up with/tune out the endless stream of babble that spews from this kid.

If he thinks something he saw on t.v. is funny, he’ll repeat it literally 50 times a day. And not even the whole joke, unfortunately. Just the punchline, usually. Then he laughs robustly at himself and looks to us to confirm that he is, indeed, the funniest human being on the planet. Better yet, he makes up his own jokes (which usually make no sense whatsoever) and expects a reaction from us other than the dazed and confused look we are prone to responding with. I want my kid to have a great sense of humor. I want him to think of himself as funny and entertaining. I’d just like him to learn what IS funny *and that yelling BOOGERSUCKER at random isn’t, when telling jokes is appropriate *and that screamed across the doctor’s office waiting room at poor, unsuspecting patients isn’t and once a joke is told and the punchline has been delivered, there is no need to tell the SAME people the SAME joke again *as if the big, red, rock-eater joke is going to get infinitely funnier or have a surprise twist-ending the millionth time I’ve had to sit through it.

I’ve sat in this very spot at my kitchen bar and observed my son watching t.v. in the living room. His mouth is constantly in motion. There is no one else in the room and yet there he sits, talking, babbling, squealing, driving pins into my eardrums. He cannot NOT talk. He is a constant source of noise. His incessant chattering sometimes prevents him from hearing me when I speak to him and actually WANT him to speak respond. Therefore, OTHERS can’t hear me because of his mouth and HE can’t hear me because of his mouth.

This obviously causes him problems at school. His teacher’s only real complaint about him is his talking. He doesn’t raise his hand and wait for her to call on him. He’ll sit there and repeatedly say, “Mrs. D? Mrs. D? Mrs. D?????” She told me that she explains to him that she can’t answer him because he didn’t raise his hand and wait to be called on. If she asks the class a question, even if she calls on another student, my son blurts out the answers. I tried explaining to him that yes, he is very smart and we are very proud of him for knowing the answers. We’re happy he is so eager to participate during class, but he needs to wait until he is called on because he’s preventing the other kids from participating and he’s making it hard for them to learn. I told him that he wouldn’t feel very good if he made it impossible for the other kids to learn and they grew up not knowing anything *and then I may have muttered something under my breath about there being enough stupid people in this country that we have to deal with already. His response? Nuh uh, Mommy. I don’t want them to learn anything. I want to be the SMARTEST KID EVAH!!!!!!!!!!!!  Ummm. Alrighty then. I got nothin’ for that.

When he is tuned into something, he is amazingly quiet. Specifically, anything scholastic. He has these Puzzle Buzz activity books that he will sit and work on for hours. He can finish the whole book in one evening if I let him. Sometimes I let him just to have a few blissful hours of silence.  The damn things are only delivered about every 3 weeks so I can’t use them to my advantage everyday. I totally would if I could. WHAT? He’s learning, dammit. I’m helping his mind grow. No, really!

If anyone has any tips, methods, torture device recommendations on how to get my kid to just stop talking and listen, please, for the love of all that is holy, comment below. If I don’t find something soon, my kid is going to be kicked off the bus by his bitch of a bus driver (that’s another story) and constantly in trouble at school.  That’s the worst part, in my opinion, because he is so bright. I don’t want him being prevented from showing his full potential or being labeled a bad student because of his constant yammering.

*NOTE: I seriously wrote this blog two fucking months ago. August 28th to be exact.

I know, I suck.

The only part that was unfinished was the Bitchin’ Moments section. And it was pretty much complete. What a suckass blogger I am.

Since I left this hanging, my son DID get kicked off the bus for three days. Then, the bitch of a bus driver decided one day that she wasn’t going to let my son off the bus because I wasn’t at the end of driveway (I was momentarily up to my elbows in a shitty diaper and couldn’t get outside at exactly 3:38 p.m.)

She calls me AFTER she has already left my street and informs me that I will either have to meet her several blocks away OR I’ll have to pick him up from school. To which I eloquently replied, “Ummm, huh? Wait. You have a phone? You can call me from several blocks away but you can’t call me while YOU’RE STOPPED DOWN THE DAMN ROAD FROM MY HOUSE? Why didn’t you let my kid off the bus?” *I didn’t scream at her or even use the word “damn” but in my head, I was ready to shoot her in the face. She then tells me that “we don’t let Kindergarteners off the bus if no one is there to get them.” Which is exactly why I, and the other mother on my street, threw a damn fit when this lazy bus-driving bitch (we’ll call her LBDB) decided to change the bus stop from directly in front of our houses to the end of the street because she didn’t want to have to turn around where every other bus driver has turned around for the last 10 years. When I told LBDB and the school Vice Principal (VP) that I had a house full of kids whom could not be left unattended just so I could walk all the way down the street to get him, LBDB told me that she would watch him walk to my house before pulling away if I wasn’t out there. So imagine my surprise when this isn’t what happened. “Where is my son?” LBDB hung up on me.

This is when BitchinMommy’s head imploded.

There is a reason I don’t own a gun, or missile launcher. I called her back and she wouldn’t answer. I was seeing stars. Big, RED, fucking stars. I texted her asking where my son was and still got no response.

I called the school and demanded that the VP get on the phone since she had been in cahoots with LBDB on changing the bus stop. When I informed her that LBDB had not let my son off the bus and that I had no idea where he was or where he was going to be let off, she was appalled. I told her I had four kids in my house, three years-old and younger, that I could not fit in my vehicle in order to come pick up my son, wherever he may be let off and had no way of getting him home. I was very civil with her, not yelling or anything, but she could tell how upset I was. She told me she’d call LBDB immediately and inform her to return my son to my house. LBDB wouldn’t answer her calls either. LBDB dropped my son off, unattended, at the school. Luckily, he had sense enough to go to the office and people were still in there. The VP had to bring my son home that day, an hour and a half past the time he is usually home. I now want LBDB’s head on a platter. But it gets better…

LBDB texts me back an hour after my son is home and informs me that she was going to tell me she was dropping my son off at the school but because I was screaming at her, she hung up. *This bitch hasn’t heard screaming, yet. Plus, she can’t talk on her phone and drive, implying I’m a dumbass for expecting her to do so. I told her matter-of-factly that I never screamed or even raised my voice to her, that this never would have happened if she had just called me from that phone of hers while she was still STOPPED on my street instead of after she was already a half mile down the road. If she hadn’t changed the bus stop when she took over the route or if she had done like she had told me she was going to do and watched my son walk to the house, all of this would have been avoided. I told her that the school VP was in agreement with me that my son should have been let off the bus and that I would be at the school first thing in the morning to get this all dealt with. I also threw in that if I still wasn’t happy after that, I would be going to the transportation and school boards. LBDB being the uber-bitch that she is, tried to get in the last word.

She texts me back and pretty much said that none of this would have happened if I hadn’t been such a shitty mom and had been out at the end of the road like I was supposed to be. LBDB tells me it’s a LAW that Kindergarten-aged children aren’t allowed off the bus without an adult being there to receive them.

Is it just me or is this woman fucking retarded? Laws can be verified, you simple bitch. I’ve already told you the VP is on MY side in this matter and you’re going to tell me via WRITTEN communication that I’m a shitty mom? The amount of stupid that lives in this woman cannot be measured by means we possess today. Even though I was ready to go to prison, I damned near bit a whole through my tongue and explained in the simplest terms I could manage that we were done discussing the matter and we would let the higher-ups decide what was to happen.

After a lengthy meeting with the school VP and the Principal, I was informed that there is no law stating the nonsense she was spouting, that LBDB would drop my son off directly in front of my house from then on (and the other little Kindergartener would be dropped at his,) and if I wasn’t able to be outside, LBDB would be required to let him off and wait until he got to the door. When I expressed concern of retaliation against my son (since he’s already been kicked off the bus for stupid shit – not even his mouth if you can believe it) I was told not to worry, that they’d make sure that didn’t happen. I haven’t gotten a note, call, anything about his behavior on the bus since. In fact, LBDB has been driving the bus far less than before the incident. I can only hope I had a little to do with that. Next time she tries to step up, I’ll have the bitch’s job – if not her head.

Bitchin’ Moments:

Again, this was started months ago so anything I had here is old as hell now. So we’ll sum up the awesome:

I have had several glorious instances of girl time lately.

1) I made a trip back home recently and got to spend quality time with some of my favorite ladies. I got to go shopping with my mom and my baby sister which is always a blast. I also got to hang out with two of my best friends in the whole world. It was badassity. Four days of unadulterated laughing sans kids. Mommy needed a break. Here’s a couple of gems from my trip. I’ve omitted names to protect the innocent ; ) :

During girl’s night at a popular local bar:

H: “I have to go pee but I don’t want to walk across the bar by myself to go.” 

Me: “Just go to the bathroom. You’ll be okay.”

H: “But I don’t know where it is. I don’t want to walk around looking stupid in front of all these people.”

C: “If you don’t go, I’m going to make you laugh until you pee. Hey! Think of it as a treasure hunt! You’re searching for the porcelain prize. If you find it, you don’t go home with wet panties!” 

I almost went home with wet panties from laughing so hard.

During a random conversation about toenails:

G: “I refused to cut my husband’s toenails for him anymore after one of the damn things flew into my mouth while I was clipping them.”

Is it possible to laugh and gag at the same time? If so, I did.

2) I got a last-minute invitation to an all-girls game of Cranium one night. When women, wine and board games come together, you are guaranteed an evening worth videotaping. Watching me trying to mime “Walter Cronkite” is apparently comedy at its finest. I’m surprised no one left that night with wet panties.

3) I made a trip to New Orleans with a couple of friends to hang out on Bourbon and watch the Saints play (ok, this wasn’t an all-girl day, but we’ll say he was one of the girls.) I was very much inebriated by the time the clock struck noon and you know what, it was awesome. It was a totally carefree day, the Saints won in a game so close that it made one’s ass pucker and I got to show the city of New Orleans my new, sexy hairdo. I’m sure they’re all still talking about it. Heh, yeah…..maybe not. But it is pretty sexy, to me anyway.

4) I got to throw a bachelorette party, albeit small, for one of my friends here. Six of us hit up downtown Baton Rouge (2 of us almost didn’t make it due to our extreme lack of direction and attention to our surroundings) and shook our asses.

I learned these things from that evening:

a) If you want to dance to techno, you don’t need glow sticks. All you need is an iPhone in each hand.

b) If you are ever in a situation where you need to learn how to “Dougie,” Justin Bieber on YouTube works in a pinch.

c) If you want to hear some of the funniest catcalls in your life, put a blinking tiara on the bride-to-be. Example: “I just love that shit in yo’ hair. I gots to get a picture witch ‘choo.”

d) If you ever have the need to photograph every single second of an event, contact the bride’s co-worker and friend, R. Just bring a back-up camera. She’s going to take so many photos, she’s going to drain her camera battery completely … and then yours.

I’m afraid to even look at what’s on that camera.

Later Bitches!

If This is Southern Hospitality, I’ll Take Yankees, Carpetbaggers, Etc. Any Day

18 Aug

Bitch of the Moment:

As I obviously don’t blog everyday – so sorry for the long spans of time between posts – so I’m changing the format a bit. We’ll now have the “Bitch of the Moment” instead. I always seem to finally post my blogs days after the irksome events have taken place anyway, so this is more appropriate. On to the bitch.

Most times I am in a store/business here, I actually have to bite my tongue to prevent from asking, “Do you want my damn money or not?!?” Customer service here is practically nonexistent.  With the economy being in the crapper and no one being able to even get a job at Mickey D’s, you’d think businesses around here would be doing every thing they could to hold onto customers. I may not have a lot of money, but what I spend in their stores would at least ensure that some of these “associates” keep their much-hated jobs.

I’ve told you all before, I have worked in retail and other service industry jobs for the better part of my working days. I know those jobs suck. I know customers suck. Managers suck. But as a retail worker you accept the suckdom and go about your day. Your attitude vastly changes the way the suckass customers are going to treat you. It’s not rocket science, folks.

How hard is it to smile at a customer? Or when you’re through taking care of them, to say, “Thank you.” 9.9 times out of 10, I, the customer, say, “Thank you,” to them and it’s hardly ever reciprocated. What the hell am I thanking them for? They are supposed to be serving me. I am ensuring there is a need for them to be there. I have been pleasant, even trying to engage them in polite small talk. I get nothing in return. I mostly get scowls or complete disinterest if I get acknowledged at all. Then there’s the whole fraternization between “associates” that I get to sit and listen to instead of them paying attention to me or what I’m purchasing. I honestly don’t need to know how pissed off Dominique made you by pulling you off the floor and making you check when she knows you have 2 pallets to unload before midnight. And HELL NO you ain’t working 2 seconds past your break time no matter how many of these customers are waiting in line. Screw her. *Actual conversation I sat through while trying to check out.  Tact is apparently lost in the dirty south.

And God help you if you need help finding something or something rings up incorrectly. They will not lift a finger to research the item or find what you are looking for. I have been in a store here where exactly 7 “associates” walked past my obviously lost ass and not one offered to help me find what I needed. I counted because I’m that type of bitch. 10 Foot Rule? Right. They wouldn’t know or care what that meant if you slapped them up side the head with a tape measure. *Maybe I’ll do that next time.  I always have to walk through the store and pull someone aside to ask for help and I’m usually told that it’s not their area so they have no idea if they have what I need.  This is where you’d expect them to call someone from that area, right? Wrong. They just walk off. Dubya Tee Eff. No customer service at all.

The cashiers are the worst. They don’t say “Hi,” “How are you?” “Screw you and the horse you rode in on.” Nothing. If I have a coupon, I get loud sighs and it literally takes forever for them to verify if my coupon is exactly what I purchased, if it’s been copied, if it’s expired, yadda yadda yadda. You all know how I am about my coupons. I am precise in which ones I use. However, I really don’t think a $0.35 coupon is worth five minutes of their, my or the 15 customers behind me’s time (who are all now ready to kill ME when it’s not ME being the douche canoe.) I’m not part of some mad coupon-counterfeiting ring. I’m not here to steal from Ralph, Leblanc, Albertson or Mr. Walton. I’m just trying to save as much money as I can here and there so I can spend MORE MONEY in YOUR fucking store later on. Imbeciles.

The one that really makes my blood boil is when something rings incorrectly and how I get treated.

Here’s the proper way to handle the situation if you are a cashier:

“Ma’am. The item rang up wrong. It’s ringing $5.99 and the sign/ad said $3.99,” says the customer. “Oh, really. I’m sorry about that. Let me check on that for you real quick.”  This is where the lovely cashier either calls someone from that department OR if they know the department well enough, they run and go check on it. Not drag their feet or piss and moan, but briskly walk to the area in question to verify the price. Once verified, they briskly walk back and inform the customer that either the sign they read was for something else OR they override the price. NOW. In MY retail store, if the customer says something is ringing up wrong and it’s a difference off two measly dollars, we just override it automatically. We WANT our customers and aren’t willing to lose them over $2.00. If they come to me to check out and something rings up at a price exceptionally higher than what the customer says it is and it’s from my department, I will run – RUN – my ass to where the item is and check it out. I’ll even bring back the sign if they read it wrong. That’s the kind of cashier I am. If the customer was right about the price difference, I apologize for the inconvenience, override the price and thank them. I then call someone in pricing to correct the sku so other cashiers and customers don’t have to do what I just did. Again, that is the kind of cashier I am. These other mofakkas around here aren’t as bitchin’ as I am and it sucks.

Here’s the improper way to handle the situation if you are a cashier (this is another of my recent experiences and completely true):

“I’m sorry. Those are ringing up wrong. They were on the clearance aisle. They were supposed to be $1.50 each. They are ringing $2.50 each,” I say. “No, they ain’t. The wash cloths are $1.50, the hand towels are $2.50,” says the bitch of a cashier. “No, the wash cloths were $1.00 each. I checked the UPC on the shelf and it matched these for the $1.50 price,” I say, still being courteous. *Loud huff* “Pam, how much these towels ‘sposed to be?” bitch cashier asks the cashier across from us that works in that department. “You just gonna hafta walk down there and check yo’self. They got me here checking so I can’t do nothin’,” says 2nd bitchy cashier. (My cashier makes no movement whatsoever to even pretend like she may go check it out even though the aisle is literally 3 aisles away.) “Well they ain’t ringing at that price,” says my bitchy cashier. (She starts ringing the other hand towels. When she gets to one of another color but the same style, it rings the $1.50 price.) “See. Those are ringing correctly. That’s the price they are all supposed to be,” I say a little exasperated. “Well. That must be for that color only,” says the c*nt cashier. “Listen, there is an entire row of these hand towels in all different colors but the same style. They are all marked $1.50. There is absolutely no sticker on ANY of the shelves that say $2.50. The wash cloths that coordinate with these in the same style but all different colors say $1.00. I’m not trying to get over on you. If you could just check I’d appreciate it. I’m buying a lot here so $1.00 extra on each of these towels is going to add up,” I say as politely as I can manage. *Glare* “Pam, do you know if they all ‘spose to be $1.50 or just these here brown ones?” worst cashier in the world says. “I can’t help nobody, they got me checkin’!” says the 2nd worst cashier in the world. (My cashier just stands and looks at me. No intention of checking herself or even picking up her little phone to call for assistance.) …… “Fuck you,” I say as I leave my cart and its entirety there for her to deal with. Do I feel bad about my reaction? No. I was polite even when I was treated with disdain, I did not raise my voice and made it clear that I was sorry to inconvenience her even though it is her job to check on things of this nature. She did nothing but disrespect me and the other customers waiting behind me by refusing to provide service to me, the customer. If you hate working with people, DON’T WORK WITH PEOPLE! Plain and simple. I actually boycotted this store for a while refusing to give them one cent of my money. Unfortunately, my options for groceries are limited unless I want to sell my car to finance them. I have started shopping there again but if I can buy something anywhere else affordably, I do.

It really doesn’t take a lot to make a customer happy, even when you have to tell them they can’t have what they want. It’s how you finesse them. “Hey. How are you today? Thank you for waiting. Did you find everything, ok? This is such a cute shirt. I’d buy it but I can’t wear white. I have three kids with dirty hands. Is that all for you today? Any coupons? Your total is ….. We thank you very much. Please take our survey if you get a chance – you get a coupon for it! You have an awesome weekend!” Ask anyone I work with. They’ll tell you that’s how I am with EVERY customer verbatim. I don’t care if they’re old, fat, ugly, poor, stinky, whatever. I treat every customer with respect and 9.9 times out of 10, they leave with a smile on their face and that’s why I get good customer service awards at work all the time. And you know what, it took almost no effort at all. Smile. Be polite. Pretend to care. Say thank you. Or get the fuck out. Mmmkay?

Bitchin’ Moments of Late:

Even though I really would love to throttle him most days, I have one of the sweetest little boys on the planet. He started his first week of Kindergarten on Monday. He also rode the bus all by himself for the first time. As we were waiting for the bus to arrive, he asked why I had my camera. I told him I planned to take a picture of him getting on the big boy bus. Once the bus arrived, I took a picture of him stepping onto the bus. Once he got on, he turned to face me. The driver was telling him where to sit and he just stood there. I told him to go take his seat but he just stood there. I asked what he was waiting for. He said, “I’m waiting on you to take the picture, Mommy.” He then stood next to the driver, smiled and waved. It was precious. He then said, “Bye Mommy, I love you.” It’s the first time I’ve ever been teary-eyed sending him off to school.

Yesterday, when he got home from school, he told me about a little girl he had met. He said that she had been bullied and had been crying. I, of course, interrupted and told him to make sure that if he or anyone else around him was being bullied that he needed to inform the closest adult so they could take care of it. He told me that someone had stepped in but that the little girl was still upset. He tells me, “So I gave her a big hug and told her it was going to be ok. Then, when I got back to class, I drew her a great big heart to make her feel better. I’m gonna give it to her next time I see her.” Isn’t that the sweetest thing? He may be a wild child most days, but I’m so glad he has a kind heart and is empathetic to those around him. I’m a very proud mommy indeed.

In other news, the girl is potty-trained! Holla! It is such a relief not to be buying diapers for two kids at the same time. She’s still in pull-ups at night but we’re slowly weaning her off those as well. Her reward for going poop is a sucker. I swear, she makes herself poop just to get a sucker. She LIVES for suckers. It’s hysterical. I can’t even clean her up before she squeals,  “I want sucker. I want a pank sucker!” No, my child doesn’t have a southern accent at all. I hope I don’t pay for this reward system with a mouth full of cavities.

She also went to her very first movie yesterday and sat all the way through it like a big girl. She saw the “Snerps” as she calls it (re:Smurfs for those of you without children.) Then she got to spend the day at the mall shopping and playing, and getting spoiled rotten by the best Aunt on the planet. We love you, Aunt G. I don’t know what we’d do without you.

So, yeah. I think that’ll do. Thank you once again for tuning into my profanity-laden ramblings.

Later Bitches!

The Itsy Bitsy Spider My Ass

20 Jun

Bitch of the Day:

Fucking. Bugs.

For those that don’t know, I live in south Louisiana. It has to be the bug capital of the United States. I’d even say the world but I think Ethiopia has us beat with all those flies. *Side Note: Does anyone else watch those “Feed the Children” commercials and find yourself saying to the t.v., “Please kid, just swat that fly off your eye. I’ll send you 30 cents a day if you’ll just knock those damn flies off your head. Please. It’s really freaking me out.” No? It’s just me? Oh. Nevermind. Point was, we have a lot of  damn bugs here and I hate every single one of them.

Where I’m originally from, we have bugs. You know, mosquitoes, ticks, fleas, etc. If you go hiking through the woods, you can pretty much bet on your ass getting covered in ticks. Or worse, seed ticks. Those little bastards get all up in you. While these may be annoying, they are not dangerous per se. Brown recluse spiders on the other hand, are abundant there. As I type this, I have an old friend there recovering from a bite. They are nasty business, for sure. But even they don’t hold a candle to the shit crawling, flying, lurking down here.

We have mosquitoes the size of pterodactyls here. I’ve never seen them as big anywhere else. And they will chase you. I shit you not. My first trip to Louisiana was in 1996 with a couple of friends. We stopped at this state park because it was called Corny Lake. Finding that an extremely hysterical name (we were obviously easily amused back then,) we wanted to check it out. Why it was called a park, I still do not know. After driving for a while through what can only be referred to as Deliverance Country, there was nothing there but one crumbling dock that led out to the “lake.” The “lake” was a big mud puddle. A few weeds, mud as far as the eye could see and about a gallon of “lake” water. We were no longer amused. As we were turning to leave, I started to feel things bounce off me. When I realized they were mosquitoes, I hauled ass to the car. When I slammed the car door shut, several mosquitoes actually hit the window and bounced off. They were flying so fast in pursuit of me, they could not stop from slamming into the car. You could hear them smacking into the glass. I couldn’t make that up if I tried.

I can’t come inside my house at night without being pinged by a million moths, gnats, junebugs, who-the-fuck-knows-what repeatedly. You wanna see me freak out? Watch what happens when a bug flies in my face. You’d swear I was battling an invisible ninja. Someone should videotape it. That shit would go viral.  It’s not any better during the day. Wasps, hornets, yellow jackets, anything with a stinger in its ass is after us. I’ve bought more wasp spray in the last three months than I did in fifteen years where I’m from. I should buy stock in that crap. To give you an idea of how bad they are at my house, one of the tasks on the hubby’s weekly chore list is to search around the house and fence and knock down all the nests. He always finds new ones – plural. The really bad part of this (besides getting stung sucks ass) is: the hubby is allergic to stings. We’re talking full-on anaphylactic suckfest. My kids probably are, too. Maybe I should be buying stock in EpiPens….

I saved the best/worst for last. Spiders. Fuck spiders. They are everywhere. Spiders I’ve never seen before are all over my yard and more than likely, in my house. When I walk into my backyard, I can see dozens of little spiders sprint away from my feet. These aren’t dangerous to me by any means, but that fact doesn’t make them any less creepy. Wanna shit your pants?  Walk around the corner of your house and come face-to-face with a banana spider. Studies show they won’t kill you if you get bit by one but who the hell wants to find out for sure? The damn things are huge and nasty looking. Nothing good can come from them. The winner though, by far, is the black widow. That bitch is rampant around my house. If a spider freaks out the hubby, you know it’s bad. I’ve seen black widows before, but never the size they are around here. They are so big, you can see the red hourglass on their backs from quite a distance. These bitches earn an automatic death sentence on sight. If I can find something to spray, throw or shoot them with from a considerable distance, I will obliterate them. Even their egg sacks are scary, of which, I’ve found many in my shed. I’ve personally carried out many spider abortions in there. Again, fuck spiders.

Here’s the shitastic thing about spiders. You can’t just lay down poison and wait for them to die. See, spiders are nasty fuckers that don’t clean themselves. So walking through liquid or powdered poison has no effect unless they have to swim in it and accidentally ingest it. You have to directly spray them to kill them which means getting near the damn things. Doesn’t leave you with warm fuzzies, does it? I have a huge jug of poison on hand when I’m lucky enough to run into one of my uninvited guests. But it doesn’t do you a damn bit of good if you lose the spider.

My inspiration for this blog was a big, bulbous, black spider that lovingly jumped at me when I was pulling clothes out of my hamper. I was trying to multitask by doing laundry while watching five kids, aged 5 years-old and younger. Yes, I’m stupid. Of course, when I yelped because of the lunging spider, four of the five kids ran towards the laundry room. In trying to run interference so no one would get bit, I lost the spider in the hamper. After hogtying securing all of the kids at a safe distance away, I tried to find it by carefully pulling clothes out of the hamper from three feet away using my son’s “grabber” toy. When I couldn’t find it, I beat all the clothes as much as I could with the “grabber.” If someone had walked in at that moment, they would have thought I was completely nuts and removed the kids from my house. The hubby came home hours later and found the beast. It wasn’t a black widow as I had thought, but he didn’t know what it was. This incident has forced me to call in reinforcements. The bug lady will be here first thing in the morning. *Another side note: The girl is so cute. She keeps referring to her as “The Ladybug” no matter how many times I correct her. LOL!  Anyway, I honestly don’t care what chemicals she sprays around and in my house as long as all of these bastards die. I’ll take a toxic fume-induced horn growing out of the back of my head if it means I can sleep soundly at night knowing a creepy crawly isn’t going to climb in my gaping mouth as I snore the night away. Fuck. Bugs.

Bitchin’ Moment of the Day:

I’ve done my first guest blog! One of my favorite bloggers, Mrs. Hyde over at A Bitch Called Mom was gracious enough to let me fill in for her over at her site while she’s studying like a mofo for her PhD. She used one of my previous posts We Need a Clean-Up on Aisle U, which you can view on her page here. I fucking love this woman. She thinks exactly like I do, but has the balls to put it out there for all to view. Please go by and check out her blog if you get the chance and show her some love. Tell her bitchinmommy sent you.

Later Bitches!

I Don’t Want No Scrubs

19 Apr

Bitch of Every Day:

I abhor laziness. If you want to get on my really bitchy side, be a shiftless layabout. You can call me a lot of things, but lazy isn’t one of them.

Here’s a little background on me for those that aren’t in the know. My Mom is the hardest working person I know. Currently, she is 59 years-old and she works in a junkyard. Yep, you read that right. My Mom sorts scrap metal Monday through Saturday and she is almost a senior citizen.

Growing up, I had a scrub for a stepfather. He only worked during the spring and summer doing lawn work which he was able to do on a huge riding mower (that my Mom paid for) so he was lazy even then. Not to mention the fact that my Mom would go with him most weekends to help and she was the one weed eating the properties he took care of. During the winter, he did dick. He sat around the trailer, smoking cigarettes and pot when he wasn’t verbally or physically abusing one of us. He has about 20 spots reserved in Hell right now, if he isn’t already there. After years of trying to escape from him (he’d always find us,) we finally were rid of him when I turned 15. Since then, we’ve only seen him a handful of times and last we heard, he was living under a bridge somewhere supposedly wasting away from cancer. I’ll be nice and say I hope he met his end quickly if he is, in fact, already dead. That’s all I can offer in the way of compassion for the douchebag.

Watching my Mother work at a plant to make enough money to support all of us while putting up with his deranged ass instilled a very strong work ethic in me. It also taught me what to look for in potential life partners so I, and any children I might have, wouldn’t have to put up with that nonsense. I’m not going to take shit from any man, ever. I’m not what you would call a feminist per se, but in that area, you can call me a Femi-Nazi. You can’t work, tend to your home or even LOVE your children? You have no place in my life.

My loathing of laziness isn’t only directed toward life mates. It is applicable to family, friends and co-workers.

Most family members that I don’t associate with are the ones who have nothing to offer society in any way. They can’t hold a job, can’t man (or woman) up and take care of their kids, won’t kick their drug habits or if they have duped some poor, unsuspecting soul into being with them, can’t seem to stop abusing them in some way or another. To me, blood is NOT thicker than water. I will cut a family member completely from my life with no guilt at all. I’ll give them a few chances to straighten up and see their error of their ways; I’m not a total bitch. But too many chances, and I become an enabler. If you’re a shitty person, I’m not going to condone your unforgivable behavior just so you can feel warm and squishy. Blood or not, if you’re a scrub, you’re out.

I’ve disassociated myself from lifelong friends for the same things. Some have been so close that I would refer to them as family instead of friends.  It killed me to do it but I can’t let people like that affect me or my family. They will drag you into that mess and it will either break you financially, emotionally or even physically. I know many who succumbed to pressure and began using drugs, stealing, etc. from the influence of scrubs. I don’t want my kids emulating those types of behaviors in the future. And they will. How do you think most of my family and friends wound up going down that road? They saw it in their homes every day growing up. Luckily for me, I’m was pig-headed enough to fight those urges because I wanted to do something with my life – to have a better life than I had. They weren’t as driven, I guess.

Where my disdain for laziness has affected me negatively, perhaps, has been at work and home. I have definitely alienated a few co-workers (and boyfriends/spouse) when it was apparent I didn’t approve of their work ethic. If you don’t do YOUR part and I have to take up the slack, I’m going to be pissed about it. I do enough. I don’t like work or chores either but I know it has to be done so I do it. If you do your part, everything gets done faster and you don’t have to endure me being a bitch. Deal? Screw around on your own time, not mine.

Where I currently work, we are usually so busy no one has the time to even consider being lazy. There are a few exceptions. When the flow of customers finally ceases or is sporadic, I don’t sit back and relax or chat. I start hanging clothes, cleaning the desk area that is now trashed due to the frenzy of customers or straightening racks. I know if I do it NOW, then I won’t be staying late after work doing it when I’d rather be at home with my family. Lazy co-workers prevent that from happening some nights and it chaps my ass. Messing with my family time is like messing with my emotions. You will incur my wrath.

One of the biggest and longest running sources of contention with my hubby has been his initiative to do things around the house (or school when he was still in college.) He is a habitual procrastinator. I wish I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard, “I was gonna do it tomorrow/later/when…..” If I wanted it done a week from when I asked him to do it, I would have waited a week to ask him. I don’t expect my husband to jump when I say so like some über control freak. I have gotten more forgiving lenient in my old age and will let my requests slide until the next day without being a bitch to him. But, I don’t think expecting something to be done on the SAME DAY I ask is that big of a request. I sometimes think he procrastinates just to demonstrate his control in those situations.  Trying to show he’s the Man and not bowing to the Little Woman’s demands when she reminds him to take out the damn trash. Which brings up the other (bigger) issue.

Why is it, after thirteen years together total, I still have to remind him to take out the trash? That’s HIS job. Shouldn’t he know when it goes out? Now, this past Sunday I didn’t have to tell him. But usually, it gets to be around 11:00 p.m. on Sunday night and I’ll notice the trash is still full throughout the house. When I ask when he’s going to take it out, he’ll usually mutter something about forgetting it was trash night. It’s the same day every week, even on holidays. Why is it that hard to remember? His other job is to empty the dishwasher. I’ve told him a million times, if the sink is full of dirty dishes, it’s because the dishes in the dishwasher need to be emptied. But does he notice? When I tell him it needs emptied, it will be the next day if not the day after that before he gets to it. And I refuse to empty it. Again, I do enough shit around here. There will be maggots in the sink before I empty the dishwasher. I’ll hand wash a dish here and there that I absolutely have to have before I empty the damn thing. I told you before I was pig-headed.

I can’t fully blame him for his lack of initiative around the house. See, growing up, he had chores he had to do, well, a few anyway. After he would complete his chores, his mother would go behind him and redo it. When he got to be a teenager, he’d finally had enough. If she was just going to redo it anyway, she could do it in the first place. If you are so anal-retentive (as I am and she really is) about your house that you will go behind someone and “fix” what they’ve cleaned, then you haven’t properly trained them. Also, beggars can’t be choosers. If you want the help, you can’t expect the helper to be as neurotic as you are – unless you’re paying them, of course. Your kids need guidance from you on how you want things done, but only to an extent. So his mom had to do everything because she wouldn’t let him do anything. So, he honestly was accustomed to not helping around the house when we got together. He didn’t know how to work a washing machine for Christ’s sake. I took the time to show him how to do certain things I could use his help on and thought that’d be that. Not so much.

I still have to ask for help all the time. He doesn’t notice the filth, nor does he really care about it. If I left for a month to go on a trip and came back, my house would probably look similar to some of those on TLC’s Hoarding. Instead of copious amounts of ceramic cats and old newspapers, my house would be filled to the brim with Dr. Pepper cans and shitty diapers. There’d be paper plates littering the counters, floors, the stove, everywhere. Everywhere except the garbage can. Seriously, you’re 10 feet from the garbage can. Why the eff are you laying it on the counter for ME to throw away? It bothers me because it shows a lack of respect for my time, the hard work I put into our home  and my feelings. He knows how important it is for me to have a clean house and that things be organized. Yet, he makes no effort to help keep it that way. I pick up after him as much as I do my kids. Maybe more than my kids. So, we butt heads about it every few months (really, I just talk at him and he mutters and nods. Things get better for a few weeks then revert back to the same old shit.) He is the bread-winner in the home; I only work weekends in a department store. I, however, take care of at least two, if not all three kids all day by myself the entire week-long. It’s more draining than any “real” job I’ve ever had. I still manage to clean, pay bills, fix things and cook while caring for them. I’ll trade his “real” job for my “playing house” any day. He wouldn’t last a week and he knows it. So why he doesn’t step up to help is beyond me.

Don’t get me wrong. He’s an awesome dad to my kids. He has a great job that he actually likes for once and seems to be well-respected there. He and I still find new things to talk about everyday so we’re never bored together. And it doesn’t hurt that I still find him to be very, very cute. 🙂  He is definitely not a SCRUB. He just needs to SCRUB around the house a little more often.

Bitchin’ Moment of the Day:

My kids are funny as hell. I wish I could remember all the things they say on a daily basis but anyone that knows me, knows my memory is shit. I blame it on brain rot from all the Diet Coke I’ve been drinking over the years. I need a little recorder I can carry around so I can save it verbatim when the funnies happen. Here’s just a couple from the last few days:

Via the oldest:

“My name is Penguin Man. I can freeze people, launch fireballs out of my butt, and make mountains crumble!” Someone thinks he is a superhero whose superpower involves farts. Awesome. I truly do have a boy.

Conversation today with the girl:

Me: “Who is that on your shirt?”

The girl: “Da Princesssssss.”

M: “But what’s her name?”

G: ” I dunno.”

M: “That’s Cinderella.”

G: “Cinner Grella.”

M: “No, Cinderella. Cin-der….”

G: “Cinderrrrrr.”

M: “Rel-la.”

G: ” Gorwillaaaaaa. Cinderrrrr Gorillaaaaaaa.” Runs off laughing maniacally.

Another shining example of how well my children listen to me.

Later Bitches!

Road Rage ala Mommy – Pt. 1 The Ugly

3 Mar

This turned out to be a very long blog, so I’ve put it in two posts for those that may not have the time to waste reading it. This blog is full of expletives. Viewer discretion is advised. 😛

Bitch of the Day:

When thinking about what I would write yesterday, I had almost decided to skip the ‘Bitch of the Day’ part. Nothing terribly noteworthy happened that warranted an all-out bitch. The worst part of my day was boredom. I had a million and one things I could have done to prevent being bored but no gumption to do any of them. I mean, if you know me, you know I didn’t sit around on my ass. I cleaned up after my disgusting children ALL DAY, managed a load of laundry and made dinner. Exciting shit, I’ll tell ya. Certainly nothing you want to read about. Therefore, I was going to give everyone a reprieve from my bitchiness and just head on to the happy portion of the blog. That was, until I had to go grocery shopping.

The drive there was uneventful. The shopping experience was awesome – I’ll explain in the Bitchin’ section. It wasn’t until leaving the parking lot that things started to go down hill and really piss me off.

I realize it was later in the evening and there weren’t many people driving around, but that doesn’t give random dillholes the right to drive any which way they damn well please. As I was driving down the aisle to exit the parking lot of the grocery store, some good ol’ boy in a huge pick-up decided he was going to cut across the entire lot and nearly ran into the side of my truck. If that wasn’t bad enough, when I got to the end of the aisle and turned right, he once again tried cutting in front of me by dissecting the lot. This time, he almost hit my passenger side fender. I’m positive my face was purple from screaming at him. If I had had a gun, I’m pretty sure I would’ve shot him. Though, judging from the size of his truck, I’m betting the size of his dick is punishment enough. Overcompensate much? Oh, it gets better.

Still shaking from my parking lot adventure, I pulled out onto the highway to make my way home. I was driving in the left lane when in my peripheral vision I see something coming towards me. Another short-dicked man big pick-up truck is drifting all the way from the right turn only lane towards the left turn only lane at approximately the speed of snot. I was not traveling at the speed of snot, I was traveling at 55 mph. I had to slam on my brakes, screeching tires and all, to keep from hitting him as he crossed my lane. To add insult to injury, a car traveling on the opposite side of the highway decided that this would be an opportune time to pull a u-turn. Even though I had the green light in the 55 mph zone……..and was already halfway through the intersection (albeit crookedly from slamming on the brakes due to the previous asshole.) For whatever reason, this old bitch thought it was A-OK to pull on out in front of me. I had to slam on my brakes AGAIN. My heart was pounding so hard, I shouldn’t have to do any cardio for a month. I swear, my ass was so puckered to the seat, I probably left teeth marks. I should have let any one of these three assholes hit me. I need a new car. I would have happily let one of them buy it for me. Fuckers.

There are places I refuse to drive because people are so nuts it makes me nauseous just thinking about even getting in a car, much less driving one. Virginia Beach? Hell no. I almost died the first 45 minutes I was in a car there. Memphis? No thanks. I don’t enjoy freeways that just abruptly turn to rock and rubble with no advanced warning. Atlanta? I’d rather have a hot poker stuck in a certain orifice than drive there again. But here? Where I live? Hands down, worst driving experiences in my life. If you are from here and drive here, I’m not talking about you. I’d never talk shit about you. I love you, you read my blog. 🙂 I’m talking about THEM.

Those who constantly come over in my lane, making me swerve or slam on my brakes. This happens at least once a week – no shit. I don’t drive a tiny Hyundai Accent. I drive an SUV, it’s hard to miss. Last time I checked, it wasn’t fucking invisible. Those shiny things attached to cars and windshields are called MIRRORS. Use them, dickheads.

Those who ride my ass every single day on the way to pick up my son. The route I take is composed of old highways. There are four school zones on that route where the speed limit is 20 mph. There is also a very large construction zone that is 25 mph. Lots and lots of cops troll these zones, just itchin’ to write a ticket. Since I just received a ticket in October while driving in one of the aforementioned school zones, I ain’t speeding for nobody. But the bitch behind me in Mercedes-Benz station wagon, who must be late for her latte and Jazzercise class, doesn’t give two shits about adhering to traffic laws. She is therefore: riding my ass, honking, flipping me off, swerving into oncoming traffic to see if she can go around me. This kind of behavior happens all the time. Where the hell is the cop that pulled me over for doing THIRTY mph while this shit is going on?

Those who drive at an absurdly lower rate of speed than designated for the area. There is one sweet spot on my daily commute where the speed limit is 55 mph. Never happens. Never do I actually get to drive 55 mph. I get stuck behind someone everyday that is going 40 mph if not 30 mph. You want to see me have a near-stroke? Ride with me while I’m stuck behind one of these assholes on that part of the commute. I’m sure you will see veins protruding from my forehead. You will certainly hear me, that’s for sure.

My two youngest children ride with me to pick up the oldest from school. It’s a good thing they do because I’m less likely to go completely batshit in front of my kids. Otherwise, I might yank someone from their car and beat the living shit out of them for having a total disregard for anyone else’s safety. Almost everyday, assholes are putting me and my children at risk just so they can get to someplace they think is important, like the MALL.

Here’s where I admit shame for my response to shitty drivers: I have yet to master the art of editing myself when I’m full of rage. Word vomit flies out before I even have the chance to think about censoring myself. Loud, angry, expletive-filled word vomit. Luckily, most times the young ones nap during the ride and miss me screaming ‘Douchebag!’ repeatedly. Sometimes they don’t. Which is why my daughter can sometimes be caught saying, “What the FUCK?!” *hangs head* Yep, my daughter overheard me say that once in the truck and now she says it here and there sporadically. My husband and I have been trying to convince her that the word is ‘fork’. So when she says it while we’re in public, we’ll say, “No honey, you don’t need a FORK.” I can’t get my daughter to say the word ‘Please’ but I got her to say that word. I am awesome.

See Pt. 2 The Good for the Bitchin’ Moment of the Day.

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