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Dribbles and Grits to Crumpets and Bollocks: June 2013

Dribbles and Grits to Crumpets and Bollocks

Dribbles and Grits to Crumpets and Bollocks: June 2013

Friday, June 28, 2013

I need to serve some grits so here you go... Racism

This blog is dribbles and grits, and I kind of decided them to be labels... Dribbles being silly random drivel and Grits being serious stuff. I need a balance of more serious stuff, and what to discuss?

Here's a recap of shit going down right now, in the mainstream. That's an important clarification. Mainstream shit going down is totally different from shit actually going down. This is the stuff people seem to WANT to talk about. The top things people are reading, searching, and discussing...

So, mainstream recap. This is end of June 2013. Children of the future, you probably want to read this. Not because there's ancient wisdom here, but just to confirm all your suspicions about your parents. Racism is the topic of the week. I'm not saying your parents were racist, but there's a pretty good chance that they might of been stupid.

Paula Deen is all over the interwebs. Not many people seem to know what that story is really about, and I'm one of them. I get blips here and there depending on the article.

The news that set off all the rumors is that one of the previous employees of one of the restaurants is suing  for racial discrimination and harassment. That kind of shit happens every day for most of you white people who are unaware that the minorities still experience discrimination on many different levels. If you so much utter in your own mind or under your breath, "That's because they all play the race card," you are very wrong. That's an explanation you WANT to believe, and it's no different than saying women who claimed to have been raped are lying about it. Just undo that belief right quick on the basis that if the person is playing a race card, you'd rather fall for that than fuck over the person who isn't playing the race card. If you like fucking over people, then you are definitely part of the problem. Just saying. And where did I come up with this notion? I've heard too many ignorant folk say it.

This case is specially different than most because A, Paula Deen, and B, the person suing them is white. Of course, nobody is really going on and on about that. Everyone is only concerned with Paula Deen. I'm sure Ms. Jackson, the lady suing them, is the reason. She threatened going to the media when it came to settling out of court. She did just that. Went to the media when nobody settled. Is that bad? Not necessarily. If you were getting fucked over by your boss, you're going to look into every outlet that can help you resolve the situation, and if your boss is famous, the media is your friend.

Now we do need to understand both sides though. See, Ms. Jackson has a personal interest in the matter due to the amount of money she's suing for. I don't think she's making shit up to sue. There is definitely some racial issues going on with the Paula Deen family. Even sources that try to stand up for them, I don't know if they are stupid or what, but it still implicates an ignorance on Paula Deen's part. There is no doubt that some offensive shit goes down on the regular there. But Ms. Jackson is obviously trying to stand up for everyone else with it. I don't know if she wants to see change. Or maybe she just wants the money. Or maybe fame. But it's still a big gamble which way things are going to go for her, and from what I've read, she was a teenage mother when she started at that restaurant. I think what she expected from this is going to blow up in her face. Of all people, maybe someone else with less to lose should be trying to right this wrong. Even if she walks away with millions, the sacrifices this girl is going to end up making isn't going to be worth someone throwing out the occasional black joke dreaming of a Plantation style wedding.

Then we got Paula. The accusations are as follows from what I gather. There's probably more than this...

1. The Little Monkey. "Deen is also accused of allowing a family member to continually refer to an African-American cook at the restaurant as a “my little monkey.”  Got this from NY Daily News. This shouldn't be an "also accused," this is the bigger deal than the n-bomb. Sorry, but monkey is much more offensive. You don't hear black people call each other monkeys. They throw the n-bomb at each other, but if you hear a black man call another black man his monkey, there's probably crack involved.

2. Making racial jokes. For whatever reason, Paula admits to this going on and seems to think it's okay as long as nobody says the N-word with it. Newsflash white people, your fucked-up racial jokes offend the race. If they say they think it's funny and they are cool with it, they are being nice to you. It does bother them. Some, it bothers enough to be worthy of killing any relationship with you over it, and others, it doesn't offend them enough to make you feel like shit over it. Newsflash Paula, according to the EEOC, jokes against any group such as black people, Jewish people, gay people, Mexicans, all of them contribute to a hostile work environment. You should write that down Paula.

3. The Plantation Style wedding. Supposedly, the wedding of whoever's, the planning included Paula's glorious idea of recreating a Plantation moment with a wedding requiring black people to dress up like slaves to serve the guests. Fucking brilliant idea. How about we do an Egyptian Style wedding and have the white people build a pyramid for it with some clay? The black people can hit them with whips and everything. That wouldn't offend white people at all would it?  Of course, I don't mean the white people involved. We were more concerned with "what people would think," as opposed to the feelings of those involved. Now, on Paula's defense, she got the idea from another restaurant that DOES exist somewhere in the south. Now really in her defense, I don't think she meant to make people feel uncomfortable. She just wanted something classy and southern, she had this vision for whatever reason, probably the restaurant where everyone was in matching uniforms similar to that she's seen on slaves in paintings depicting that era, and immediately dismissed it because she knew it was a dumb idea.

4. The more famous of the accusations, the usage of the N-word. Now most of my black friends are not as insulted by this as the other things. I bet that confuses people. The thing is, black people drop the n-bomb on each other all the time. They also hear white people say it all the time. It's not that creative. It's not new. It's so common, while it bothers people, it's not something to OUTRAGE people like a plantation style wedding. Nobody gives a shit if Paula Deen said it 29 fucking years ago. Of course, that's the easier argument for Paula Deen fans. To pretend the only racist issue is the use of the n-word years ago, and the possible usage of it more recently. They already know there is no argument for the other things, so to win the internets, they make it about the one thing they have a winning chance at arguing. Well, you are still wrong because the fact of the matter is, the word is used by other people in a work environment where it shouldn't be used, and that's the basis of the lawsuit. It's not about who said it. It's about the fact that it IS said around black people in a working environment. That IS harassment. If you really don't think it's wrong, I suggest you look up EEOC's website and get with the program. But as for Paula's image, the n-word is the least of the accusations when it comes to her.

Editing to add to this list... From Daryl K. Washington's blog...

5. Black staff had to use the back entrance to enter and leave restaurant;

6. Black staff could only use one bathroom;

7. Black staff couldn’t work the front of the restaurants;

8. Brother Bubba stated his wishes: “ I wish I could put all those n*ggers in the kitchen on a boat to Africa”;

9. Bubba asked a black driver and security guard "don’t you wish you could rub all the black off you and be like me? You just look dirty; I bet you wish you could." The guy told Bubba he was fine as is;

10. Bubba on President Obama: they should send him to the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, so he could n*gger-rig it;

11. He shook an employee (Black again) and said” F your civil rights…you work for me and my sister Paula Deen;

12. Paula’s son Jaime's best friend managed the Lady & Sons restaurant. He threatened to fire all the 'Monkeys' in the kitchen. When Paula found out…she slapped him on the wrist and suggested that the employee visited Paula's $13,000,000 mansion so he felt special and could be massaged.

The big deal for Paula's career, the result, is The Food Network is done with her. Some say it's not because of what she did as much as the Food Network makes a big deal about the "chef" or cook being able to match the image they set out. If your image is that you're super nice, then the viewers need to believe you are super nice. If your image is that you are a super asshole, then the viewers cannot catch you being nice. Then, you look fake. It's not that they don't want fake people. They probably love fake people. They just don't want you getting caught being fake about who you are.

I don't buy that explanation too well because Paula Deen's image has always been Southern, white southern. All she's done is feed into her image TOO much. Cmon now. Paula and Bubba have a restaurant.

Now my take... I don't think Paula's racist. I think she's an old woman, with a passive personality, who only knows the Southern way of life. Things she thinks are okay are not. She doesn't know better. Most black people don't inform you of when you are being a little offensive, especially when you are their boss, and especially if you are famous. Now Bubba, I don't know enough about him to make the call, but from what little I have read about him, he sounds like a pig. Like someone who gives little thought into the consideration of other people over his own whims. And a racist one at that. I could be wrong, but I'm just saying, that's what I get from it.

I also think Paula at this point could fix the situation by admitting she really doesn't know better. Things she thought were okay, she is just now realizing and discovering they are not. That she does care about all people. And I think she should require EEOC training at all her businesses, one that she, herself, would undergo. They have a fabulous 3 day training that touches on the legalities of harassment and discrimination, and the kinds of behavior that leads to a hostile work environment. And she probably wants to have her attorneys draw up a harassment policy that covers race and sexual harassment and a zero tolerance program for it that all employees sign as an agreement to the zero tolerance.

The fact of the matter is she employs black people. A lot of companies don't. A lot of companies do not provide equal opportunity. A lot of companies do not provide equal pay. And they get away with it regularly.  And black people buy from them without knowing anything about it. White people who love all people do the same. How many of us bought from Chick Fil A before we knew about their stand on homosexuality? How many of us still justify buying from them knowing the types of "non-profits" they donate to?

Do I think you should boycott Paula Deen over this? Not because of this. How stupid would it be, "I won't eat this recipe because it derived from Paula Deen who might be racist?" Try, "It's too fattening."

Here's a link showing some quotes from Paula during the deposition.

Huffpost's Article with quotes on the deposition and updates.

Paula isn't the only person making headlines going viral on the interwebs... We have another racially charged story afoot. George Zimmerman's Trial. If you have been living under a rock for the last few years, George Zimmerman is the guy who shot the kid because George is crazy. Basically, George wanted to be a cop, and instead of being a cop, he became a wannabe. Instead of going into security like many wannabe's do, he decided to form a Neighborhood Watch. With that, he watched people. The neighborhood. Anything unusual or suspicious, he'd call either 911 or a non-emergency number. The police tell them, "Don't approach people yourself. Just call us and let us handle it from there."

So one night, he sees a kid (Trayvon, 17, not really a kid but I'm going to go with kid/child because in my eyes, anyone under the age of 21 is still a child to me because I'm old) walking home, stalks the child creepily, chases child, approaches child, and hazy moment, child is shot dead by George. Hazy moment is defined... George says child was kicking his ass. He shot child out of self defense. The woman talking to child on the phone says the last thing she heard was child screaming at George to get off of him.

Now here's the deal. Not just my take, but the deal. The reason George is guilty before the trial is over... George admits to watching Trayvon. Following him. Chasing him. It's on the phone during George's call that he's out of breath from running because the kid started running. There's no doubt the kid was scared because of the creepy guy, tried to lose him by running, creepy guy ran after him too, and both were out of breath from running, right as the child thought he lost the man, he realized the man was still there. This is not even questionable. That happened. Then the child asked George why he was following him, and George's response was "What are you doing here?" The two somehow made physical contact in the form of a fight and George admits to shooting and killing Trayvon with his own gun that he was carrying. It took a good search, but George shot the child with a Keltek 9mm semiautomatic handgun (according to this source).

People are saying "Stand your Ground" laws of Florida is what gives George the leeway to do such a thing. The deal is, when you are robbing a bank, if someone tries to stop you, you cannot shoot that person and claim self defense. George was the creepy guy. He, armed with a gun, chased a kid on a dark rainy night. Trayvon was scared. Trayvon had, according to the law, the first right to defend himself. Trayvon could have shot George in Self Defense. George has no self defense rights because George is the aggressor in this story. Therefore, George is guilty because he admits to shooting a kid. Self defense is not a case he can stand on.

Insanity, however, is something he could use as a case. Insanity defines George completely. Possible sociopath considering he seems to have absolutely no remorse. You can see it in his actions after the fact. You can see it on his face in the courtroom. He thinks he's a hero who ridded this world of another punk. Delusional. There is no telling him otherwise. That's insanity. He's insane. The fact that he chased a kid with a gun in the dark at night and finds the kid more suspicious walking home in the rain armed with skittles than his own behaviors is insanity. A lot of people qualify for that one because they seem to agree with that, but that's more stupidity than insanity I think.

The weirdest part... The defense is making the case that George was defending himself when George was armed, the kid wasn't. When George was chasing the kid and the kid was running from George... I mean what the flying fuck? THEN the prosecution is making the case that George is insane. They are trying to show how George made many calls to the police about suspicious activity, wanted to be a cop, has a history of violence... So basically, the defense is claiming self defense as the attacker, and the prosecution is claiming insanity is what makes the defense guilty. 

Link to Wikipedian Recap of the whole ordeal

Now for more racial stuff... The case originated as a racially charged case. George made some racial implications with his call to the police, and the police weren't going to investigate or arrest George, what many believe to be a racial decision. We all know had the kid been white, George would have been more arrested. I say more arrested because he was questioned for 5 hours before the police let him go. Of course, they never did really try to identify the kid or find his parents. No. The father had to send out a missing person report, like missing persons couldn't have been like, "Wait, don't we have a John Doe who fits that description?"

Anyway, the most current event of race with this case... The girl Trayvon was talking to on the phone through most of these events is black. She just recently testified. Here's a link to her actual testimony without people's bull shit opinions... The people of the internet have not been kind to her. They make fun of her "Axe a question" instead of "Ask a question." They made fun of her weight, her hair, the way she talked, things she said, didn't say... They picked and prodded her, and still do, over every little detail totally forgetting the fact that she was the last person to speak to Trayvon. That she was a witness to the whole ordeal, and it doesn't matter how she says it or what she wears, her testimony is one of the biggest deals to finding out what really happened. As long as she's telling the truth, who gives a fuck?

But this spawned some controversy among the black population because a lot of the people making fun of this girl are black people, not white people. 

This message is going around my Facebook with this picture, and it says it better than I ever could. Note: she was not Trayvon's girlfriend. She was a friend. And I think she's beautiful and I just wanted to jump in there and give her a hug. I totally loved the little glares she'd give the defense attorney.

I'm thankful she got up there and answered all those questions. Not many people know the kind of sacrifice that entails. I've been questioned on the stand before, by a defense attorney who tries your patience with a long ass line of questioning. It's not fun. Not at all. It borderlines traumatizing, especially since it usually surrounds a traumatizing event. Repeating questions about trivial details trying to exploit little things that have really nothing to do with anything because the defense doesn't have a real case for their client's innocence, that kind of shit makes someone's PTSD worse. Based on the defense's idea of self defense, she could have shot them in self defense because their questioning was very suspicious.

READ THIS...written by Derrick Jaxn

I wrote an article about Paula Deen's use of the N-word and how white people are losing regard for our painful past but after watching the George Zimmerman trial, I deleted it. 

Trayvon Martin's friend, Rachel Jeantel, was mocked and ridiculed yesterday via social media, and from what I could see, 99% of it was from her own race. She's only 19 years old, under more pressure than any of us could imagine, and was involved in a tragic situation of being the last to talk to her friend who was killed shortly thereafter. Instead of embracing her, we make jokes about her weight, her public speaking, and of ALL things....her color.

We can't hold white people to a higher standard of respecting black people than we hold ourselves. We can't punish them for hating us and "holding us back" while leading by example and showing them how it's done. There's by FAR more black people that hate black people than there are white people who hate black people. We show it by the self-hatred we project on those like Rachel Jeantel in times like these.

But this isn't new. We did the same with Gabby Douglas when her "ponytail was undone" as she won gold medals. Remember?

I'm not saying I ever excuse the acts of racist people vs. blacks. I just want us all to be aware that we're DARING them to do the very thing we are DEMONSTRATING.

The worst thing about all this is, those that need to hear this message, probably won't.


And, still don't believe me about the racist jokes? Tell me, white people, that it wouldn't bother you to be surrounded by black people and Hispanic people saying this stuff on a regular basis...

Really, please, imagine yourself. Imagine you work in a restaurant. You are one of the 5 white people who work there. You are surrounded by black people, some of which you have heard rumors about being racist. The one rumored to have beat up a white person in his neighborhood for being white in his neighborhood, a big muscular guy, he breaks out into a joke, and then the manager, who is also black, breaks out into another one. The two go on and on with jokes, and a black girl walks in, giggles, and breaks out with her joke....

Or you could be working at a Mexican restaurant where you realized the owner's brother is part of a Mexican Drug Cartel.

What do you call a white man on a mule?
A honky donkey. (I so stole that from George Jefferson)

So a black man, a Native American man, and a white man find a genie. The genie says he gives three wishes, and since all 3 found him at the same time, he'll give each one one wish. The black man goes first. I wish for all my people to return home to their Native Land. Poof. All the black people are back in Africa. Then the white man goes, I like that wish. Let's finish it. I want to get rid of all the immigrants in this country. Send them all home. Poof. All the immigrants are back home. The Native American is like, "Well, I was going to wish for my people's land back, but it looks like white man wished it for me. I'll have a coke."

What do you call a white man in a box?
Cracker Jack.

How do you herd a bunch of white people into a big group?
Gun Show.

What's the difference between a white man and a crack head?
None. They both will do anything for 5 bucks.

How do you get white people on the dance floor?
Play the Macarena.

How many rednecks does it take to drive a car?
Two. One to drive and the other to hold his beer.

Why do so many white people get lost skiing?
It's hard to find them in the snow.

What did the white guy do before his blood test?
He studied.

How long does it take for a white women to take a crap
9 months

What's the difference between a white man and a snake?
One is a evil, cold-blooded, venomous, slimy creature of Satan, and the other is a snake.

How many white men does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
One, white men will screw anything.

What's the flattest surface to iron your jeans on?
A white girl's Butt!

What did the black guy do with his M&Ms?
Eat them
What did the white guy try and do with his?
Put them in alphabetical order

What did a white guy see when he looked at his family tree?
A straight line!

How do all black jokes start?
Quick glance to the left. Quick glance to the right.

Link to where I got most of these jokes...

Close your eyes and imagine this. For real. Close them now and imagine being the minority in a situation and this is what is said. Imagine that this happens regularly. Not quite daily, but enough to know that you are probably going to have to listen to it again and pretend it's okay if you want to keep your job and be considered for raises and promotions. All jokes like that are offensive. 

Don't think just because you are surrounded by your own race that you are free to knock other races. I got black family. I'm very offended by black jokes. I won't work with people who make them. 

I get offended too by the shit people will say against white folk. There's a girl in town here, from Africa, black, beautiful (pisses me off), married to a very wealthy white doctor, and she hates white people. She used to grab my ass, laughing hysterically, saying, "Go on little white girl. Go on. Scurry out of my way." USED TO. Actually, my friend punched her in the face once later. She tried to press assault charges and lost because self defense isn't assault. She doesn't come near me anymore. I let it go. Nobody pays attention to the gold diggin whores, no matter what country they are from. But I will say I got a gratification out of my friend punching her in the face because treating me like that for no reason really made me feel like shit. It was embarrassing. It was like showing up somewhere important without wearing pants while on your period with a huge urge to fart. If you make people feel like that just because of their skin tone, you deserve punched in the face. 


And on behalf of Paula Deen, I just want to say...

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Thursday, June 27, 2013

Bet you didn't know I was a rebel at the pool today...

Today, I got yelled at by a lifeguard because she thought I was going to slide down the slide with the 3 year old, and I wasn't. I was just trying to get her to slide down. You would think the fact that my fat ass itself wasn't anywhere near the slide (I was standing the whole time, and we are talking a 3 foot slide if that) would clue the poor daft blond teen. I had to scream across the pool because bitch wasn't getting a clue. Cmon now, if I went down that slide, with my boobs, in that bathing suit, I'd flash the whole world and give all the married men wet dreams for the rest of their lives. I'm not in the mood to take on a mob of jealous wives. That should also have been obvious to the silly blond girl.

THEN, I got dirty looks from lifeguards when the pool closed. Three year olds have to do EVERYTHING THEMSELVES, including getting out of the pool. So we humored her, let her back in long enough to walk herself out since her stupid father had to go and carry her out knowing much better than that... Then I told the hubs, "I don't think they approve our parenting." He's like, "Just wait until they have kids. Karma's a bitch." I'm like, "How much you want to bet they read my blog and be like, 'it's like she really gets me,' having no idea they just eye rolled the person who wrote it..."

A couple years ago, a lifeguard whistled me for employing the use of the F-word with my husband. See, my mother in law was in town. She's a bitch. She's worse than that, but we'll stop at bitch today. She was in town. We planned for days to take the kids swimming that day. MIL was all for it. Not one complaint. Not one "I don't really want to." No, it was, "They'll love it." Now I know some women hate the pool because bathing suits, but this woman is from Puerto Rico. She goes to the beach and the pool all the time. So when she made my husband leave me with a baby and two toddlers who can't swim by myself at the pool last second decision so she could instead go antique shopping, this momma wasn't happy. Of course, that day, my oldest daughter, like 4 at the time, befriended the kid who won't listen to anyone and breaks all the rules, so when that girl dove into the lazy river to swim with the current, my daughter followed. I lost my mind. Called the hubs. Demanded he get to the pool. He did. He was pissed. AT ME. Fucker what? Fucker you pissed at me? So was his mom. This was before i knew she was a cunt. I went off on him. 3 snaps and a neck roll. Nobody was around who could hear us but the lifeguard and my kids. I couldn't even hear other people's kids screaming.

So what does life guard do? Blows his whistle. Yes that ballsy little zit faced snot blew his whistle at me, mid rant. "Don't use the f-word." Fuck you talkin about? What fuckin F-word? "That F-word." Why? "Kids are present." Where the fuck do you think they come from? "It's a bad word. You shouldn't be using it." Really? Bad word? Well I'm French. It's not a bad word in France. "You are not French." Baisez-vous! Oui je suis. I am French.... That shut him up. BTW, I'm not French. I eat French Fries a lot, but I dip them in ketchup and that's pretty American.

I don't get lifeguards. I guess they get bored and have to troll once in a while, though the ones I seem to attract the most attention from don't seem to always require intellectual stimulation so I'm not really sure.

I also discovered today, at the pool, in the bathroom waiting for a kid to pee, I have my mother's ass. It's her ass. Not her sexy young woman's ass. No. Her I got old frumpy yet incredibly sexy for reasons beyond my understanding ass. She didn't really form it until her 50's. I'm no where near my 50's. My ass is aging too fast. I know. I know. I should try pilates or something.

And I need to clean my house like a cat in heat needs to go outside, or the vet... I'm vowing to do so tomorrow because my fortune in my fortune cookie says, "You will soon achieve perfection." Good enough for me. I think I'm even going to scrub the shower and change the shower curtain (if I can find the new shower curtains I bought for such an event). Yeah. It's been that long.

That last part was random. I know. I should probably end all my blog posts with the status of my house, not to brag, but so that you guys feel good about yourselves. It's almost like watching an episode of hoarders except I actually clean all the stuff a lot. You just can't tell. BTW, I always clean with the kids present. Yeah, I basically nail Jello to a tree on a regular basis. Of course, you can't tell because the Jello keeps sliding off, but that doesn't stop me from trying ALMOST every day.

And swim carefully. Lifeguards be tryin to catch you swimmin dirty. Remember also, a drowning kid is usually a very quiet kid. Don't trust a lifeguard to figure it out. They are too busy saving you from the Fuck word.

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Monday, June 24, 2013

My Sexy Pillow Talk

To give you a glimpse of the romantic sweet nothings the husband and I have before bed, here's last night's conversation. Now mind you, they are not always this romantic. Sometimes, okay a lot of the times, our conversation before bed is more like, "Did you lock the door?" and that's it. There are times too we get into deep discussions about kids and his work. Now I should point out, the nights we passionately fuck like it's a sin, we don't talk at all. 

They do say it's important for marital couples to communicate...

The husband explains that after work the next day, he's stopping home to get his pedal he sold and taking it up to the guy who bought it. He plays guitar. It's a guitar pedal. Not sure if it's one he bought before, or one he made. How cool is that though? He builds guitar pedals. He's naming them after the kids too.

Me: If the kids are crazy tomorrow, will you take them with you?

Husband: Sure.

Me: That's awesome. Already looking forward to it. If they are anything like they were today, I will NEED that break... Well, actually, I was thinking earlier... you know how the kids get crazy every full moon? What if, in my Keanu Reeves voice, what if the moon don't make the kids crazy? What if it makes me crazy? And I just think it's the kids?

Husband: Hahahahaha. Well the moon does affect you.

Me: Really? Were the kids any different today than usual?

Husband: No.

Me: Are they ever any different than usual when I'm like, "kids are crazy, must be the moon."

Husband: Not really.

Me: Is that look on your face a sign that you are really afraid to say this to me?

Husband: No. Not at all.

Me: Shit, I can't tell if you are fucking with me or telling the truth

Husband: Hahahahahahaha

Me: Fuck you… (I roll over and face opposite direction)With your own hand.

Husband: Whatever.

Me: whatever, that was a pretty good fuck you. I mean, you can't get better than that. Fuck you. With your own hand.

Husband: eh, not really

Me: You really aren't trying to get laid anytime soon are you.

Husband: Would I get laid anytime soon?

Me: Well, your chances for it were much better 5 minutes ago.

Husband laughs, proceeds to get closer, cuddles, and then dry humps my butt.

Me: Really? You are dry humping my butt now?

Husband makes humping much more obvious.

Me: Keep it up and you'll end up like the bull in the movie we watched.

Husband: Really? You'd cut off my dick?

Me: Yep, and I'd wear it on my neck as a trophy.

Husband: That's fucked up.

Me: And I'd slap people in the cheek with it.

Husband: Fuck you.

Me: My fuck you was better than yours.

Husband: Hahahahahaha, I love you.

Me: I love you too.

Husband: Good night.

Me: Good night. And quit stealing my blankets you blanket whore.

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Friday, June 21, 2013

Playing the Autism Card

I've seen many versions of these on the internets. Some parents actually hand these out to people. For those who don't realize, a common theme in the lives of parents of children on the autism spectrum is to take our kids in public, I know, gasp, and receive a very inviting welcome from the strangers of the world. By inviting welcome, I mean a bunch of dirty looks, criticism on our parenting skills, criticism of our children, and basic asshattery.

You can read one of my previous posts about that: Dear Dr. Phil Wannabes of Walmart. 

I don't think people who intervene in that manner are ignorant of autism. I think they are mean people. They are just assholes. Think about it. Your kid is freaking out. You are almost in tears, kneeling down trying to tame your child while watching and handling the other kids. You obviously have things to do that is being interrupted with all this. Everyone is upset. Who the fuck approaches people in that kind of emotionally charged situation to insult people? That's not a dumbass. That's a total asshole. That's a bully. They targeted you because you are having a weak moment.

And when they intervene with their ridiculous opinions, they really make the situation harder on the parent and the kid. It's very common with autism or kids in general for kids to run off and/or do really stupid shit when they are upset or overly hyper. So when you distract the parent from the child in that kind of situation, it better be fucking important because you are risking that child's safety when you do. 

That type of threat deserves very little mercy. I used to just hit them with the grocery cart, or drop something on their foot, but since assault isn't something I really want on my permanent record, I now have resorted to shenanigans and debauchery.

I'd rather just scream at them really loudly something random for everyone to hear and be like "What the fuck did they just say to you?" Here's a list of some things I got for now, for the assholes... Use them wisely because you never know when karma is going to strike back, or how it will....

For those who don't know the experience... You are at Walmart. Your kid asks for something that's 50 bucks. You say no. They stomp. Beg. Argue. You hold your ground. You are ready to walk to the next aisle, and they refuse to go. So you start trying to drag them to the best of your ability since you have 2 other kids in the cart, and they flip the fuck out on you. Throwing a huge fit for that 50 dollar Made in China plastic toy. They are so pissed off by now that if you offered to give them the toy, which you would never do, they wouldn't take it. It's a big FUCK YOU and everyone who looks like you meltdown. You're not sure what to do because for you to handle the one kid, you'd have to abandon the other 2. So you spank your kid, "Cmon, we're leaving." And the kid wails louder and throws herself on the ground. So you are starting to concoct a plan of sticking that kid in the cart and making the other two walk. Meanwhile, some asshat who witnessed a portion of your event tells you it's child abuse to spank your kid, or "control your kids," or "I can't believe you just said that to your kid," or "just pick the kid up and leave," as if their fat ass could handle carrying a kicking and screaming kid pushing a cart with a fucked up wheel with 2 kids in it.... Some of them will go so far to call CPS on you, or Walmart will make you wait in the store for CPS to arrive because sitting in an office with 3 kids while one is still melting down is obviously a solution. So this is how I respond to the asshat.

NOTE: I do not really condone spanking an autistic kid mid meltdown. It was just an example. If you didn't spank, the asshat would tell you to spank your kid. It doesn't matter what you do. They will tell you to do the opposite of what you did or you suck. 

What? No I do NOT wish to buy a video of you fondling a goat!

I'm sorry, I don't know where they keep the hemorrhoid cream or the KY Jelly.

Tylenol will not cure your Clap. 

The Diet Pills I think are over there in aisle 14. You better hurry.

You know they have mouthwash here, as well as breath mints. You might want to add that to your list.

Excuse you? I happen to like what the person over there is wearing.

You cheated on your spouse with who?

Three Hundred Dollars for Sex?

Did you just call that guy a n-word? He just called you the n-word. Seriously. I just heard him say it. 

The people who work here are neither overpaid nor lazy, and they definitely do not deserve to go to hell. 

You want to do what with a cucumber? 

I don't have any dimes or bags!

And my favorite for while the kid is melting down...

What did you just say to my kid to make him cry like that?


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Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Go-To Snacks for Parties

This is the status today on the Facebook Page for one of my favorite bloggers Kelley's Breakroom. Note: She's in the I Just Want to Pee Alone book. Looking hot as usual. I'd probably ask for her phone number if I were a lesbian or a dude, and if I were a dude, after reading her blog, she wouldn't be a one night stand. She's definitely wifey material. Chris, her husband, is very lucky I'm not a dude.

Dang it, dang it. I'm supposed to bring a "snack to share" to something tonight. It's a girl thing. I have nothing because i forgot about the snack thing until just now. What is your go-to "snack to share" at parties? In other words, help me.

So here's my answer the future Mrs. Kelley Grits and anyone reading this:


Which is much faster now that I use the vegetable chopper, and you have to take the minute to tell your vegetables to "Get to the Choppa" before putting it in. Chop tomatoes and some onion, add basil (you can either take fresh, roll it up and slice, or the easy way, get the frozen cubes of them and add a couple), a little olive oil (enough to cover like you would any salad), sometimes I add some Balsamic Vinegar, add mozzarella cubes (the good mozzarella, cut into cubes), and then mix. It's best if you let it sit in the fridge overnight. Mine never makes it that far. I serve it with toasted French Bread slices, and I also frequently eat it straight up from the bowl, sometimes with a spoon.

artichoke dip
My Artichoke Dip
Artichoke Dip
The one everyone likes the most... Cut / chop up artichoke hearts, throw it in a pot with a bag of shredded mozzarella, a tub of sour cream, some garlic salt and some green onion (or onion salt), and heat until melted. When you mix it, the sour cream should just cover the cheese, like salad dressing on a salad once mixed up. I usually go with one can artichoke hearts for every 4 cup bag of cheese and 8 oz of sour cream. That can be served with crackers, tortilla chips, or toasted bread.

My husband's easy pasta salad
He takes cooked pasta, like macaroni, adds lunch meat cut up into little bite sized pieces (usually ham and turkey), adds chopped green pepper and onion, some minced garlic, and then covers it with mayonnaise.

Lime Pie
Take a bowl. Throw in 2 small tubs (or one big tub) of cool whip, a can of sweetened condensed milk, squirt in about 1 to 2 TBSP of lime juice, and add a couple drops of green food coloring. Mix with mixer. Stick CLEAN finger in the mix and lick your finger. Can you taste the lime enough? Or do you need more lime juice? When that passes the finger licking inspection, then dump it into graham cracker crusts. You might need two. You might not. It really depends on how often you did the finger licking challenge. Refrigerate. Sometimes it comes out to a perfect consistency to slice it up and remain nice looking. Sometimes it comes out goop, no matter how long you refrigerated. It's delicious goop, so it's still not a fail.

My Mom's Go-To--Dip
Take a 9x13 pan. Spread refried beans along the bottom. Layer sour cream next. Then Salsa. Then shredded cheddar cheese. Sometimes she adds lettuce. Sometimes she flips up the layers with sour cream on the bottom. Doesn't matter. Serve with tortilla chips.

I also frequently make whatever I'm hungry for just in case everyone else brought crap.


Okay, so you don't have enough time to even make the bean dip. That happens. You are driving on the way there and THEN it dawns on you to bring something. This is my Go-To fixes.


Pie. Preferably from a small mom and pop diner down the street who makes them homemade. When I was in Wyoming, I did Perkins' pie.

Question Mark. Pick the grocery store who has the best bakery in town. Grab whatever is on sale.

Chips and Dip. You can go with regular chips and ranch dip. You can go with tortilla chips and salsa, and or the Tostitos Cheese (Con Queso, Mexican which isn't even a language for Cheese), and or some jarred guacamole (no where near as good as my Uncle's Mother's Homemade). You can also do Hummus. Spinach Artichoke Dip. The good crap in the bakery section.

Beer. The reason being, food stamps doesn't cover beer. So that's like a luxury item to some parties I go to.

On vegetable trays, I don't do that. I'm always afraid the host of wherever I'm going will take that as a sign that she thinks I think she might need to lose some weight by me bringing the vegetable tray. I have no idea why I think that. I'm sure it's Freudian. Kid Parties are the exception because when you take fruits and veggies to kid parties, then you are insinuating to the other parents that you are a good parent who places your child's health as a top priority and that you eat this sort of stuff all the time.

Note: I never bring booze to a kids party. Just in case some people were wondering since I did mention kids parties on the vegetable tray subject.

And because I'm a Diet Coke fanatic, I always bring my own Diet Coke.


Monday, June 17, 2013

Autism and Grief

So I'm wordy. I was going to answer in the comments, but it's too long for a comment I think. So I'm putting it here and linking to it. Ha.


Anonymous wrote:

My son, who is 10, was diagnosed a few months ago with PDD on the higher end of the spectrum, and ADHD. We tried concerta, which made his emotions off the wall! That is where my problem lies. In early 2012 his father passed away over in Afghanistan. So his emotions are already off the chart, just very hard to deal with sometimes. Between my husband and I, we were always able to manage his ticks and other behaviors. Without my husband, I feel as though my son is getting worse. He has numerous ticks, he's very hateful, his attitude is extremely bad, and just so much more. I guess my question is, is this behavior change I'm seeing in him part of him having PDD, or would you think it's more from him losing his father? He did pretty well in the first year of his dad's passing, then just after a year, is when I really started to see a change in my son. I'm also having trouble finding a behavioral pediatrician that accepts our insurance. So, he's not been seen by a Dr since the diagnosis. If you have any suggestions, it would be appreciated, I'm at a loss on what to do.


Many variables here... Sorry it's long. When the moods hit, my suggestion is to try to get him into one of his special interests.

GRIEF I'm sure is a variable, and it takes years to get over something like that. Talking is good for grief, so always promote letting him talk about his dad and reliving some memories, but on his terms. When it comes to the subject of death, faith is a great comfort. Whatever your beliefs, try to lean on that in the most logical way possible. Dealing with grief is a real spiritual journey for anyone, and younger children are not really abstract thinkers until they hit high school. Anytime you see an opportunity (or get creative) to help overcome the cognitive obstacle (his age) to help him find some sort of enlightenment on the subject of death, go for it.

When I lost my dad, I did a lot of soul searching, which involved reading about a lot of religions and beliefs. The Jewish religion, I learned, is the source of the 7 years bad luck with a broken mirror. The old school people believed that the mirror was a reflection of your soul, and to look into a broken mirror reflected a broken soul, and they believed it took 7 years for the soul to heal. I fully believe that it does take 7 years for the soul to heal (average), and losing a loved one like a father or husband takes about 7 years. Like in the movie Uncommon Valor, you don't really accept it, but you learn to make peace with it.

Now in the 7 years that followed my father's death, I was crazy. A different crazy than the one that ails me now. It was more of, "I crashed my car into the bridge and I don't care. I love it." kind of crazy as opposed to now, which is more of a, "This bridge is creeping me out what if I crashed into it with the kids in the car? I can't handle this thought. Wait a minute. Why am I on this bridge? I was supposed to turn left 3 miles ago. Where was I going again?" Anyway, I'm just saying grief changes a person. It's a long process. It will make you crazy for a little bit. This is about you too, not just your kid.
On PUBERTY, the fact that his rather isn't around is going to make it harder. Boys really need a man at this point in their lives to help them navigate their manliness. If you can find a friend of his father's to act as a godfather/big brother, that would help him out a lot.
With autism (PDD), SOCIALLY, it is usually worse 7th and 8th grade because of all the other kids and their puberty. It's a rough couple years for anyone, and autism heightens everything. Add grief to the equation... yeah. There will probably be at least one a-hole kid who will say, "At least I have a dad." My nephew has been told that among other things at least 10 times by several kids in the last month (he's in 7th grade). These kids make the lowest blows they can, and they have no idea the impact it has on others.

Remember back when he was learning to talk? His behavior probably improved as his language did. Like a lot of the bad meltdowns from that age spawned from the communication frustration. You didn't know what he wanted. He couldn't tell you. I know that was a pretty arrogant assumption to make, and I'm aware I could be way off base. Regardless, for many on the spectrum, that repeats for social skills. Middle school years are the years when kids becomes mean and bipolarish and start to figure out their identities in the social world. It's a game those on the spectrum, even the most social of them, do not naturally play, but once they realize all the kids are doing it, they try to jump in, usually looking for at least one or two best friends. Their behavior gets worse through the learning process. Kids making fun of you and back stabbing friends or the loss of loyalty and trust in a friendship, those replace the grunting for a blankie or popsicle. It's a new anxiety and frustration. Those feelings are heightened in autism.

SO, the sooner you can help him build social skills to maneuver through this rough world he's about to hit, the better off he will be. You may try to find some online or make some up on your own, but create social settings like a word problem in math and ask how he would handle it, giving him pointers and your expectations. Give him some hard ones, when kids are mean. When they call him the R-word. Let him know what to expect. Don't let those kids have the upper hand with the element of surprise. You may also look into different occupational type therapies. I talk to my nephew a lot about military bearing. Middle school is rougher than BMT.

If he's in the autism program... This is a tough one. Usually, there's an autism room or special ed room. The kids will make fun of that, and that will fuel behavior issues on his part. But if the teacher and program are really good, and he's not annoyed by special ed kids, they are a great escape from the other kids. But you want to keep the IEP because it gives you more control over the school. You probably want to start thinking about the stuff you want to add to it, to give you more options and control when things get ugly.

You also want to find working coping mechanisms. Things that calm him down. You will need to be able to quickly identify those things and turn to them, but don't make it obvious. You want to find things that work in the school too. Like head phones are great for my nephew. He can't have them in school, and his second biggest problem in school (number one being social) is the noise factor when he's trying to work.
Sorry so long. Like I said, a lot of variables, and this is too important to half a-word. I'm not a shrink either. I did experience losing a lot of close family members one year and I have a lot of first hand experiences in PDD/Aspergers, so grief and autism have become special interests.

Be cautious with the meds. Once you go down that road, it's hard to get off of it. My nephew's mom was pretty determined about going down that road in search of the magic pill to cure his autism. It made things much worse. Topamax did quite a bit of damage, especially once they added Intuniv to his cocktail. He went from Asperger's to Bipolar Pscyho with some Aspieness pretty fast and didn't improve again until we weaned him off the Topamax. He would have been better off not starting any mind meds.

Now that I'm blogging the answer, I want to add, if Concerta didn't help, it's possible he doesn't have ADHD. Hyperactivity is sometimes common with autism, and it's different than ADHD. Some shrinks haven't gotten that memo yet. Maybe they will with the new DSM.

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Sunday, June 16, 2013

The things women do to cover her nipples...

This morning, I woke up and it was cold. So I was wearing this white tank top and black yoga pants and decided to put on a sweatshirt. I kept my house near igloo status all day, so I was comfortable in this sweatshirt, that was until I left to go to my mother's house in a huge hurry.

Why a hurry? Because I'm me. Because I woke up, baked cookie bars from scratch, rushed them down to my nephew's bake sale, talked to people, came home, took a 20 minute nap, gave the kids a bath and was already running an hour late getting to my mother's house for the family dinner that entailed family coming in from out of town. They called me like 10 times to ask me when I was going to get there because calling people like that ALWAYS makes them move faster. It NEVER interrupts people from doing things that would get them there faster to answer the phone. For whatever reason, things like dishes, folding laundry, shampooing a kid's head, buckling the car seat, wiping a poopy ass/changing a diaper, walking with 20 million things in your hands and taking a dump seems to send that telepathic invite to your loved ones to call you. It's like magic. It's to a point where I purposely do the dishes so that someone who didn't answer their phone will call me back.

My car, the Escape (pronounced Eh Scah Pay), I've had her since 2004. The model and name is very fitting considering I once needed to get away from this place and everyone, and the military was my ESCAPE, which was exactly when I bought her. She's my horse. One time I was lost in Wyoming during a freak storm where there was hail and flooding and sirens going off all over town to get indoors, and I saw the road I needed to be on, but I couldn't find a road to get me there. Instead, I found a very muddy field. That girl drove through it like it was gravel. If you own a field in Wyoming and wondered who drove through it one July back in 2006, that would be me. I was really really lost and I'm sorry.

Anyway, Eh Scah Pay being so old, some things don't work anymore, like she's gone to the mechanic a few times for it and they can't get it to work again. The AC is one of them. So this sweatshirt got really hot. Fast.

Problem is, white tank top underneath. I don't know who the fuck designs these clothes. I can't tell if it's men who do this on purpose, or gay men who wouldn't know better, or really dumb women, but any tank top with a built in bra anymore has one of two things... If it has pads, those things fold up in the wash forcing you to fuck with bra cups for an hour so you don't have lumpy lady lumps. or Two, if it ain't black, you are going to see nipples. In my case today, you can see my nipples like a wet t-shirt. And all I had over it was a sweat shirt.

It would have been a long hot flash at my mom's house if I didn't get creative fashion designer on myself... check it out...

(P.S. Excuse my fat. I recently ordered a tub of Trader Joe's Cookie Butter, so I've been putting it on everything like honey buns and chocolate cookies).

Notice my stunning sunglasses? The hair style is hot mess, and I think I wear it well, especially when coordinated with the no make-up witch face. Now on the right, check out that ass... That's a cookie butter ass. Sexy shit. Well, not really. Like the ass is sexy. The shit, not so much.

Remember when people used to tie their sweatshirts around their waist? Yeah, this is the new way to tie them now. Really it is. I swear to you. All the cool people wear their shirts like this now. Mmm Hmmm. TRUST ME.

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Thursday, June 13, 2013

The Koolaid that brought no one to our yard.

I'm watching one of my nephews for a few days just because his brother pissed him off. For purposes of this story, we shall call him the boy. He just turned 13.

Me: (as I was getting up off the husband's lap) I don't like that girl.

Boy: Who?

Me: (pointing to the TV), that girl

Boy: Why?

Me: Because she stole Captain America's heart from me. That man belongs to me.

Boy: What about the Puerto Rican Air Force (pointing to my husband)

Me: Who?

Boy: The Puerto Rican Air Force you married.

Me: Oh, but she stole Captain America's heart!

Husband: Awww, no you don't. Denied.

Boy: I can't believe she just dissed you.

I start walking to the husband who is not having any hugs.

Husband: No, no. You already made your choice. Go be happy with Captain America.

Boy: Yeah. You can't diss him like that and think he's just going to take it.

So I jump on the husband and lift my big red shirt (it's his shirt he got for Christmas from my mom one year and has never worn because he hates it) over his head and jammed his face in my boobs and wiggled. Laughing hysterically.

Boy: Gawd, what are you people doing? What is wrong with you?

I start to get off and the husband takes the shirt, puts it back over his head, lifts up my tank top and places his head in my boobs and starts shaking his head screaming "Ahhhh" Of course, he's the only person who can see my boobs because my shirt is still on me. I'm just pregnant with the head of my husband for a second, that is all.

Boy: Oh wow, y'all need to stop. Seriously, you people are crazy.

Me: Yeah, I think we are scarring this child for life hun. We should stop.

Husband: Yeah.

Me: Our kids are used to this sort of thing.

Boy: Just go make me some Kool Aid. Some Black Drink.

Me: I'm making the Kool Aid. Wanna know why? Because I'm the blackest motherfucker here.

(Mind you, I'm white. My husband is Puerto Rican, and my nephew is black, well actually he's mixed but you wouldn't know that looking at him).

Boy: She is.

Me: See. Proof.

Boy: I'm surprised you didn't stick your face in the Puerto Rican Air Force's boobs.

Husband performs milk shake. It brought nobody to our yard.

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Sunday, June 9, 2013

My Child is NOT a Horse in a Race

"Doctors told his parents he'd maybe end up institutionalized." 

"Teachers said he wouldn't amount to much."

"Doctors predicted she wouldn't develop intellectually beyond the abilities of a small child."

"Earmarked to be institutionalized." 

My question is, what is the on-going statistic for fucking up your life in general? Like what? I got a feeling it's something like, "1 in every 15 people will make it in this life." Like 14 out of 15 people (not a real statistic), randomly chosen, will fuck up their life someway, somehow, without a diagnosis doing it for them.  

I don't understand why it's only predicted for the "disabled." Clues like, "at-risk youth" labels, parents suffering from addiction (no, not coffee, things like crack and alcohol), single parents, low income, all the indicators they have shown in empirical evidence (no matter how rude they are) that all the doctors and teachers are pretty much forced into reading regularly seem to go unpredictable. I'm willing to bet, again I'm being arrogant with assumptions here, that the reason for that is nobody wants to predict the bastard child of a crackwhore to be institutionalized (jail is an institution) because that would A, make doctors appear to be assholes like it's okay as long as the person is too "stupid" to realize the label you are giving them, and B, when you label a kid as someone who isn't going to amount to much, it takes an Einstein to rise above that kind of label. Most kids succomb to whatever label you give them.

For the record, I would love to see a doctor say, "Little Jimmy is doing well, but I do have some concerns. I am not diagnosing anyone just yet, but I think you may want to consider taking Jimmy to a psychologist because it looks like he suffers from parental's UCS addiction, which can be pretty serious. Many kids with that end up institutionalized before the age of 30." UCS being code for Uncontrolled Substance. Seriously, a crackhead would think, "Oh my, there's something wrong with Jimmy," and actually take him. 

The fact of the matter is all people have a pretty good chance of growing up to be institutionalized or "stupid." In reality, in this day and age, a developmental challenge that would have placed you in an institution back in 1950 now blends in with mainstream intelligence. Everybody is learning disabled anymore. The playing field is more even now than ever. Even your highly gifted have disabilities somewhere along the spectrum, usually socially like autism. 

With that said, if you are a parent of a kid with autism, don't let the "experts" tell you what your kid is going to be like years down the road. Your kid is different just like every kid out there. Your kid is special just like every kid out there. Your kid needs tailored fit parenting more so than most kids, but that doesn't mean if your child isn't peeing in the potty by Kindergarten that your dreams of him graduating college and becoming a doctor are flushing down the toilet instead. 

I'm not trying to say that raising a kid with autism is just like raising any kid because it's not. It's helluva more stressful on the parent. I recently was talking with a mom at a house we were looking at, in the middle of the woods (literally, you almost need 4 wheel drive to live at this house) and she was like, "yeah, I love this property because I can let the kids play outside without much supervision." My eyes turned green with envy. That property was just as dangerous in my world to my kids as a place in the middle of the city. Even worse because there's no witnesses to spot or find my child when she wanders off chasing butterflies. 

I'm also not on a high horse with this. I sometimes stare at my child or my nephew and think to myself, "Lawdy, if these kids make it to 25 without a prison sentence, high fives to everyone. Shit." Yes, some of their behaviors are very scary, and the poker face shit doesn't help. My kid just stole a toy bunny from another kid. I still have yet to assess if she feels any guilt whatsoever for it or if she's a misdiagnosed sociopath. You can't tell what a kid with autism is feeling, and that is scary sometimes, especially when they start breaking shit mid-meltdown. 

What I am saying, though, nobody can decide someone's fate but the person themselves. Yes we can help them make good decisions, and we can attempt to brainwash them with a conscience, some character, and some certain behaviors like training a dog to fetch (don't knock it, that's what parents do, except we train them to pee in the potty instead of on the flagpole, and even then we fail at that sometimes). But, in the end, your child's fate is in your child's hands. And I say this, even though I don't totally believe it or want to because I'm a control freak. 

Look at Carly. She was nonverbal for I don't know how many years. The person who showed her to communicate via computer keyboard did so in a very Anne Sullivanishy way. But in the end, it was Carly's choice to learn how to communicate, her way, her rules, and on her terms. As parents, we provide resources, support, and guidance.We set up the environment. We are dealing the cards.Your kid, just like any other kid out there, has the same choice to make. Do I use the things my parents are bending over backwards to give me to help me? Or not?

What I'm saying is, fuck the predictions. When the underdog wins a fight, that's more money for the people who betted on them. "The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all." When it comes to your kid with autism, the rest is still unwritten. 

It's not easy being cheesy. I tell you. I had to. If I am going to quote her, I might as well post the video. I like this version better than the US one. I just love (verbal irony) how people overseas assume we are stupid people here who don't get the deep stuff and require to be entertained with boobs, bright colors, and conflict (drama). I really just love (more verbal irony, drown in my irony, drown in it) how they are pretty much right with that. I may be American, but I got some German heritage going for me at least (now that's sarcasm). 

and if you missed the link on her name, check out Carly's website and book!


The Queen of Cussin is a walkin. She's raising money for Little Friends. If you read this while she's a fundraisin, CLICK HERE TO DONATE. Even 10 bucks will go a long way. And share. Boast your donation on your Facebook. This is a good organization. We need more like it, or for this one to go national. And after you donate, the page provides all the crap you need to claim it on your taxes. How cool is that? 

If you are reading this AFTER this event is over, please check out Little Friends. They have an online store with resources for raising a kid on the spectrum. Good stuff.

Little Friends Blurp
Little Friends is a private, non-profit organization serving children and adults with autism and other developmental disabilities. Based in Naperville, Illinois, Little Friends operates 11 dynamic programs including three alternative schools, family support and consultation services, vocational training programs, community-based residential services and the Little Friends Center for Autism. 

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Saturday, June 1, 2013

The Tattoo Discussion with a 6 year old

The pic she saw... I personally would have
gotten a white tat if I were to get one. 
While I was kind of still in some sick/slept in/where the fuck am I and whose children are these mindframe, like pre-coffee blah, I looked through Facebook, and enter my 6 year old...

Gabby: Scroll up mom. What's that?

Tattoo. Chick with a Fresh Tattoo.

Gabby: That's so cool. I like that one.

Me: that's a real one. A grown up one. You can tell by the red puffiness and the blood.

Gabby: A real one?

Me: Yeah, real tattoos hurt really bad to get, which is why most grown ups like it, it's like saying, "I got a tattoo and didn't cry because I'm super strong." They have a little needle that stabs you over and over again like a pscyho wasp.

Gabby: Ahhh, I don't ever want to get a real tattoo.

Me: Notice I don't have any tattoos? You wanna know why?

Gabby: I don't want to get one. When I grow up, I'll just use kid tattoos.

Me: Do you want to know why?

Gabby: Because it hurts mom.

Me: No, I mean it does hurt, but that's not why. Childbirth hurt way worse than getting a tattoo and I had 3 of you.

Gabby: Ahhh.

Me: Do you want to know why child?

Gabby: Not really.

Me: Because my dad told me I'm not allowed to get one. My dad is in heaven. I can do whatever I want and not get a spanking or a time out, and I still listen to my daddy because I respect my daddy.

Gabby: I want to ask dad. I hope he tells me I can't get one too. They hurt too much.

So then she walks up to daddy.

Gabby: Am I allowed to get a real tattoo?

Dad: What?

Gabby: Am I allowed to get a real tattoo?

Me screaming from the distance: She is hoping you will say no like my dad because it hurts. She means when she grows up.

Gabby: Yeah, when I grow up, am I allowed to get a grown up tattoo?

Daddy: Let me just say this. Do you see any tattoos on me?

Gabby: No

Daddy: That's because the ink, the tattoo paint, goes into the blood. My blood would still work like regular blood, but I wouldn't be allowed to give blood to someone who needs it.

Never did we say she couldn't get one, but we never said she could. We handled this chizz like a boss, or bossier than boss, like a politician master question avoider. I would say this is a parenting win.

Well up until the part...

Daddy: So what blood type is Gabby?

Me: I think she got an A on that.

Daddy: Seriously, what is her blood type?

Me: How am I supposed to know? I was under the epidural after pushing out a child tearing my innards into pieces when they told us this stuff. You should know. You were just standing there.

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