WTF Wednesdays #10

This week’s WTF Wednesdays is going to be a rant of sorts. It’s not going to be humorous, and some readers may not enjoy this one as it’s not my usual satire, but it needs to be said.
This rant will be focused on two of my biggest current pet peeves on the topic of education-my chosen career.

Ignorant, Biased, Uneducated Opinions 

I’ve always been the type to speak my mind and to stand up for what is right. I’ve not always been perfect at doing this. Sometimes my voice isn’t loud enough, or I speak too late, or too soon. Sometimes what I really need to do is bite my tongue, but that tastes of blood and defeat, and those don’t agree with my stomach.

Ask any close friend or colleague (hell, anyone who’s my friend on Facebook), and they will tell you I have strong opinions, and I generally speak them.

As a teacher, this kind of outspokenness can literally mark a bullseye on your back. The general consensus in the teaching world is that you keep your strong opinions out of social media discussions and elsewhere. What this translates to me is that teachers should just do what they’re told and to not rock the already capsizing boat.

For someone with a mega mouth, this can be almost impossible to do. When I read the comments section on a story related to education, and I see some ignorant spouting garbage, it takes the power of the gods to ignore it and not respond with the wrath of Zeus.

I know that the state of education in the U.S. needs a lot of work, but until you’re a teacher/have done your homework and done it well/know exactly what life is like as a teacher, kindly sit down.

The very fact that teachers have to defend themselves and their careers against unfounded and ludicrous presumptions is sickening. Until teachers are paid what they’re worth, are treated with respect and regard (we are only molding the minds of our future, no big), and we are allowed to be the ones to make the big, policy-making decisions about what we know best, education in the United States won’t improve.

I was reading the comments section on a We Are Teachers article, and one teacher said that teachers need to stop referring to teaching as a calling, as it creates the illusion that it’s more akin to pledging our undying devotion to being a nun instead of it being a paid career. I couldn’t agree more.

You Can’t Win 

It’s a tumultuous time to be an educator, because we don’t really value education as a society. It’s a nice idea, but when it takes from our pocketbooks, it’s a burden. As such, there is never enough funding.

Teaching, support, and admin positions are being cut all across the district where I teach. Amidst these cuts is a new reading law that requires reading specialists and highly effective teachers. Yet, the specialist positions are the first to go at schools losing teachers. Truly highly effective teachers can’t make the grade anymore due to new, near-impossible evaluation criteria.

If a student in my district isn’t reading by third grade, they can be held back and must be placed in a classroom being taught by a teacher rated as highly effective. Due to the new evaluation criteria, there won’t be any highly effective teachers (well, there are, and there will be, but not on paper).

Hmm.

As a teacher at a struggling school, I have to make the decision about how I will teach my students, with the knowledge that high stakes tests and other classroom assessments will ultimately be how I am evaluated and paid. I do not agree with teaching to the test, as it merely prepares students to take tests and not life. However, if I do not prepare my students enough for these assessments, I am left being the one losing out.

It is a painful Catch-22.

So, in preparing my students for the high-stakes tests they will be taking, the very tests that will be considered in how my school is rated and, in turn, how I’ll be evaluated, I wonder how well the student making fart noises during our practice test will do.

In essence, my livelihood is dependent on how well little people who still eat their boogers do on tests. That is terrifying.

And, we wonder why education is failing and teachers are leaving in droves.

Despite all of this, I care deeply for my students, my fellow teachers in arms, and education. I will be an advocate for change. It is time for teachers to start speaking out, standing up for themselves, and working to make the changes that we all know need to be made.

Even though the very act of speaking my mind about my own career is a precarious thing to do, I won’t be silenced. I won’t.

Check out this video on YouTube:

WTF Wednesdays #7: You Whore 

Ahh, blogging. Where do I even begin? I guess from the beginning. 

Way back, like seven years back, I started my first blog. It took a lot to get to the point where I finally hit “publish”. I sent writing samples off to my mom, who, obviously, said I was funny. I worried that she was biased, so she sent off my writing samples to colleagues and friends, never hinting at who I was. The response was incredibly positive and was the impetus to finally put myself out there for the world to read. 

Only, I had NO clue how to blog. Not one fucking iota. The only people who ever read my posts were close friends and family via Facebook and relentless “hints”. 

Not everyone and their halfwit brother had a blog then, so there weren’t articles all over social media about how to blog. I don’t think it was a “thing” then. I also think this was before the WordPress reader. Hashtags, Pinterest, and Twitter weren’t even in existence. It was the Blogging Stone Age. 

Pretty much no one outside of my small circle read my blog. 

What’s crazy is that I was OK with that. I was doing what I loved to do, and it didn’t really matter that I had to beg my ex to post supportive comments to make it look like I had a “following”. 

My second attempt at blogging has been a completely different experience. Completely. 

I’ll never forget the day I got my first “like” from a stranger via WordPress. 

What is this? Someone found my post? And, they read it? 

Wha??? 

From that point on, my following has steadily increased to numbers I never thought possible. 

I love being a “blogger”. Don’t get me wrong. My most favorite part of the blogging experience is connecting with people all over the world, from the United Kingdom to Kenya. That part is amazing and often the only reason I open my WordPress app. 

However, what I am finding to be a challenge is the ever-growing influence to whore myself out for followers, likes, shares, you name it. 

When I started Fatty McCupcakes, I promised myself that I wouldn’t get caught up in the inevitable obsession if all I focused on was how many likes I was getting. 

Don’t get me wrong, following your stats, managing your comments, and knowing what it takes to get your material in front of more readers is an important part of blogging.

But. 

After having an interesting conversation with my blogger bud, Charlotte, I discovered why all of the bullshit involved with blogging has been getting me down:

I’m first and foremost a writer

Blogging comes second to writing. Every.single.time. 

I’m not the kind of blogger who is solely in it for the potential money-making and free product opportunities. I’m definitely not one of those beauty/travel bloggers who seem to  always be jetting off to exotic locale after exotic locale, donning their free swag they got writing positive reviews. It’s just not my jam (I’m also not a ridiculously good-looking, independently wealthy, lucky bitch).

I have nothing against those kinds of bloggers. You do you, boo. If that’s your thing and you’re making money doing it, hell, maybe you’re smarter than I. 

However, some (as in, not all) of these bloggers don’t seem like “real” people. Even more, they don’t seem like writers. They seem to be computers that communicate (if at all) with their followers in a very sterile, impersonal way.  

How far can you fully engage in blogging until you’re a computer prostitute, begging for the opportunity to gain a follower, all just for the price of a risky blow job and a huge hit to your dignity? 

I don’t know about any of you, but there are some aspects of blogging that feel dirty to me. 


This leads me to the conundrum I’m in. Despite the fact that I don’t blog to actually blog, I do blog to gain more exposure. I want people to read what I write and to enjoy it and maybe, just maybe this will lead me to a paying gig at some point. 

I was recently introduced to Go Read, which is an online book club, but also a platform for authors to share their posts and articles. As an author, you have the opportunity to make money depending on clicks, shares and the like. I hear that many authors can make $250 plus a month. In order to get started, you pay a minimal fee of $25 and you have to buy a book and then you get to post. There are groups popping up that one can belong to where you share each other’s articles to up your payable shares. 

Maybe I’m being the dumbest, densest idiot on the block, but this just sounds like the not-good-kind of hustling and exactly the opposite of what I’m about as a writer. 

I’m not sure whether or not I’m ready to whore out my writing to boost my income. 

Tell me: Am I being stupid not taking advantage of an easy, albeit sleezy-feeling money-making opportunity? Do you ever feel like a blogging whore? Let me know in the comments. 

WTF Wednesday #3

For this installment of WTFW, I’m coming at you with a rant. Brace yourselves, people. It’s gonna be a doozy.
I don’t even care how lame this rant makes me seem. So, I’ll just come out and say it: WTF is so hard about hitting “like”? 

Now, if you literally don’t like a post/page/status update, if you’re offended by it, if it displeases you, then, by all means, keep scrolling. 

But, what could possibly be offensive or displeasing about a Michael Scott meme? Or, a humorous and relatable tale of woe? Or, my EFFING FB BLOG PAGE? 

I have almost 400 Facebook friends. I have 180 some likes on my Fatty McCupcakes page and the majority of those likes are from the good people of WordPress. 

I just can’t even anymore. 

This is why I think it’s just plain salty to not have “liked” my blog page when you’re a personal friend of mine:

1. What happened to supporting your friends in their personal interests and ventures?

2. I’m not overly offensive. 99% of the time I’m making fun of myself, people.

3. Hitting “like” takes you, literally, a fucking nanosecond.

4. I rarely even post on my page, so you wouldn’t be inundated with crap daily. Only recently have I been actively publishing post updates.

5. Whether you like it or not, social media is how the majority of the world communicates. Thus, not liking my blog page after I’ve politely invited you is like ignoring me when I wave at you on the street. I think it’s rude. 

6. Don’t even try to lie and say you’re busy and it slipped your mind. I know you’re laying on your couch, binge watching Japanese panda videos on Facebook. Don’t even give me the “I’m busy and too important” speech. 

Now, I would understand if the majority of the topics I posted was on the furry fandom, or my blog was called The Freed Nipple and The Unleashed Vagina, but NOPE. And, nope. 

So, why the lack of support? 

Maybe if those 350 friends knew how much it would mean to me for them to take 20 seconds out of their life to show support in the form of pressing down on (while not even needing to look) a square millimeter space on their phone, while they watch Gilmore Girls reruns, it’d be different. 

But, I’m not about to act like I need the likes. 

It’s just the damn principle of the matter. 

Like Karl Pilkington, I have a lot of important things to say. You’re missing out when you don’t hit “like”.


On the same topic, has anyone else noticed that you are now able to see how many people saw your post on Facebook? 

I’m part of a mom group (don’t even ask how that came to be) and the moms post hilarious memes and real life experiences that always make my ovaries shrivel up on the spot (I have magical, regenerating ovaries). Many times, these harried moms, just looking for recognition, get a dismal five likes when 85 people viewed their post.

You already saw it. You viewed it. YOU LOOKED. 

You seriously can’t hit “like” and THEN be on your merry way?!

Why is this even bothering me? 

OMG. 

My eye is twitching and I can feel the blood pulsing in my temples. 

I think I’ll go now, before I have an aneurism. 

What annoys you about the world of social media and blogging? Rant away in the comments. I promise I won’t just glance at your comment, without responding, before I continue my über important creeping of random people’s Facebook pages. 

WTF Wednesday #1

In an effort to post more consistently (loved this tip from one of your recent posts, An Historian About Town), I’ve decided to start an installment called, “WTF Wednesdays”. 

WTFW could be a rant about Target underwear (no way in hell those are XLs-try again), tirades on the topic of the price of a single cupcake these days, or just some of my random, seriously certifiable thoughts. 

This Wednesday I’d just like to share a screenshot of one of my house matches on MLS that I was just emailed. I really think it’ll just speak for itself: 


Except, I just gotta say…

Ain’t she a beauty? Condemned by the city and everything! I wasn’t going to mention the gorgeous rustic wood window coverings, the live in Cousin Eddie trailer, and the termite infested outdoor space, because I felt that was a little braggy. 

I know my budget is on the low end, but damn. 

If owning my own home means asbestos poisoning and ringworm, I think maybe I’m good? 

So, in ending, why would a property like this even be an option on MLS? If the city doesn’t even think it’s safe enough, why would anyone else? Also, don’t even try to sell me on the value of the property. Ain’t no way I’m buying land that’s sandwiched between the Clampetts’ compound and a serial killer’s favorite dumping ground.

Yeah, I’m good.

I’d love to hear some of your house-hunting horror stories. Entertain me in the comments! 

For Shame 

Disclaimer: If you normally read my blog for its satire and humor content, and you aren’t a fan of rants OR you don’t want your fabulous opinion of me to possibly change, maybe skip this one. 

If you ain’t scurred, then read on. 

Last night, I RSVP’d “maybe” to the Reno Women’s March on Washington happening on the 21st. I think it’s pretty darn awesome that women (and men) are assembling to demonstrate their support for Planned Parenthood, BLM, the LGBTQ community, NoDAPL, and many other worthy causes. I mean, rock on! Right?!

I want it to be made amply clear that I’m a supporter of all human kind. I do my best to not discriminate and to accept all people from all walks of life. Whenever I discover a stereotype I might have, I do my best to learn as much as I can about what I believe, what I think, and what more I can learn about what I am misunderstanding. 

I also want to express that I do not get into politics on my blog. There is enough of that all over social media. It’s quite literally thrown into our faces on a daily basis. I like to think that my blog and what I write about transcends the negativity of reality. My blog is about reality, but the kind of reality that is fun to laugh at.

I’m not even going to go into who I voted for or what I believe about the state of our world in that respect. I want all people of any political affliation (my phone autocorrected that to ‘affliction’. I wonder if that has some hidden meaning?) to be welcome here. I don’t want to get into politics, because it tarnishes what I intend to do here-create a space where people can relate and laugh about real life “fuck me” experiences. So, I’m not getting into politics. 

Nope. 

What I do intend to do in this post is express my disdain for the overused idea of shaming. In looking up the exact definition of ‘shaming’, I found that there isn’t a classical definition for the exact word ‘shaming’. This word or idea is a derivation of ‘shame’. 

Google defines shame as:

A painful feeling of humiliation or distress caused by the consciousness of wrong or foolish behavior.

In recent years we’ve practically changed the meaning of this word to mean:

Being made to feel inadequate or less than for something you can’t help or for just fucking being who you are.

Shame is now an action and is inflicted upon victims by people for varied reasons, instead of being an emotion born internally. 

Shaming is bad. I.e. Fat Shaming, Slut Shaming, Mom Shaming, Food Shaming, Feelings Shaming, and on and on. 

The last two types of shaming I listed came from Wanderlust Magazine. So, no, I’m not making those up. 

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not OK to make people feel bad just because it makes you feel better. That’s terrible behavior, and if you behave that way, you’re the problem. 

However, we are overusing and abusing the idea of shaming. 

Why I previously mentioned the march in my post was because I was creeping on the discussions on the event page, because I knew there’d be some drama found there (I only read news articles on Facebook for the entertaining drama that always surfaces in the comments), and, huzzah! There were 118 comments on a post someone made on the page. 

I tried to find said post this morning, but I either grew distracted trying to find it or it was removed. 

The woman (I believe one of the march organizers) who wrote the post said something about it being a good idea to leave kids and strollers home if attending the march. 

This created huge backlash. 

This one woman went on and on and on about how she was being “shamed” as a mother for wanting to bring her kids. 

As I read her comments, that got more and more pretentious, I wanted to puke all over what she was saying (where’s the puke option for posts?). 

Nowhere. Nowhere did anyone shame this woman in the comments. 

This woman cried shaming over a kindly worded suggestion. 

Get.the.fuck.over.yourself. 

Seriously, not everything is shaming. Not everything someone says that you don’t agree with is fucking shaming. 

Alright?!

In fact, I believe that a certain amount of shame helps us learn how to not be disrespectful assholes. 

That whiny woman could have ignored the comment, and continued with her plans to bring her kids, and all would have been fine. 

Free speech and the ability to speak our minds is an important right, but when you don’t use your brain, your free speech just comes off as unintelligent sniveling. 

I’ve decided I don’t really want to march with people who feel entitled to believe that anyone who doesn’t agree with them is “shaming” them. 

No, not all of the people marching for these important causes is like that woman. But, I know there will be more of them there. How could I possibly spot them in a huge crowd of people? They’ll be the ones asking random people if there will be a participation trophy for attending the march. 

Nah. I’m good.

I’ll just fight the good fight by growing some lady balls so I don’t mistake disagreement for shaming.

#smh


Source

Source for featured image. 

Go ‘F’ Me?

Happy Hump Day (Wednesday, you sickos). I got some good news yesterday. I guess I won’t muck about dragging out the preamble, so, guess what? I was just awarded Qualified Teacher Status (QTS) in England. This means I am qualified to teach in maintained and non-maintained schools across England. I was also made exempt to serve the statutory induction period. To my American readers, this means that I do not have to go through the probationary period upon landing a job.

Basically, I was freaking excited yesterday, and today I am feeling overwhelmed. This status means nothing more than I am qualified to apply for a teaching job. I still have to apply and then there is the visa issue. The sell-my-car-and-possessions issue. The seriously-am-I-considering-leaving-my-amazing-school?-issue. The this-will-be-expensive-as-crap-issue. The can-I-really-move-abroad-by-myself?-issue.

This is big.

Also, this may not even happen until next year. A whole year. The thing with teaching is that once you commit to teaching a year at a school, and you meet your class, you can’t exactly just up and leave. There are children to consider. Consistency. Doing what is right. So, if this doesn’t happen for this school year, I will have to wait an entire school year to try to make it happen again.

Le sigh. 

In my excitement, I made a Go Fund Me page. I know. To some, this may seem in poor taste. Asking for money is tacky and I am the first one to think, “Come again?” when I see bloggers with the “Go Fund Me” link on their page, so readers can fund their writing. We all would like to be paid for our writing, but that doesn’t mean that we should. Or does it? I am beginning to understand why people ask for donations. Why the hell not?

Stupid people ask for the dumbest shit on Go Fund Me. I would LOVE for someone to pay off all of my irresponsible debt, but that doesn’t mean that anyone should. I would LOVE a pair of Louboutins (actually, no, I wouldn’t. I look like an idiot walking in heels and my feet are in agony after 5 minutes, but you get the point), but people asking for money for expensive heels should maybe just get a freaking job (then they will, maybe, realize that they can pay their rent instead).

However, I am asking for donations to fund my furthering career of teaching the future. I think that is a much more reasonable request than, say, needing money for pizza (although, needing pizza is a very real struggle).

 

I will make this happen regardless if I get a single donation or not. If I get a donation, I will feel like the luckiest, happiest girl in the world. I will also forever be grateful to whoever feels the need to help support my venture with their money.

With that, I will end with a picture of my editor/life coach/friend’s “Grandma Jeans”. In helping to assure me that I made the right decision with the Go Fund Me, she sent me a picture of her sexy jeans. She said, “Some would call these ‘in poor taste’, but until someone wants to take me on a shopping spree, I am rocking these jeans”. Or, something like that.

Mom Jeans

I was given permission to share these bad boys, don’t you fret.

 

gofund.me/U-K-orBust

 

Why Teachers Peace Out 

I am known for my self-deprecating humor. I am known for saying what no one else will say. Usually, my posts include some crazy, embarrassing admission, an admission that many will relate to. Most of what I put out “there” is lighthearted, silly, and humorous.

This post will be anything but. It will not be humorous. It will not be lighthearted. The only people who will relate are fellow educators. Despite this, I urge you all to read what I have to say here. Maybe, what I have to say will shine a light on a very important issue that touches us all, in some way or another.

What many of my blog followers don’t know is that I have a serious side. I am very passionate about social issues, specifically ones involving education. I am also extremely offended by injustice. Any injustice. I firmly believe that hard work should be rewarded, and that rewards shouldn’t just be handed to someone for doing nothing more than expelling used air.

Even if my words fall on deaf ears, even if my passion to be an advocate for change, changes nothing, at least I put my beliefs out into the world to be potentially heard. At least they are out there, marinating, simmering, bubbling, boiling. 

After that, very lengthy, preamble, I will get to the point.

Let me tell you why education in America has such a horrible reputation. Let me tell you why good, influential teachers leave the profession in droves, with only half their sanity intact. Let me tell you where we need to begin if we want to start improving our education system.

As I sit here, typing, my mind is elsewhere. My mind is on my dwindling bank account. I have precisely $19 to my name (after bills are accounted for) until payday, almost two weeks away.

Sure, sure, maybe I am irresponsible. Maybe I buy $80 shoes on a whim. Maybe I have crippling debt. Maybe. Maybe not. That is not the point. The point is that I sit firmly on the lower-middle class economic rung. The very real reality is that I do not earn a wage that enables me to be 100% self-sufficient. 

I see many of my friends and peers buying homes, getting married, traveling to luxurious locales, etc. and here I sit, worried for my future. How will I ever get out of my noisy midtown apartment? How will I ever save enough money for a down payment for a house? When will I ever stop praying I make it to payday, without having to use a credit card?

Boohoo. I know. It is just so sad. Maybe I should go get another job. Maybe I should continue my education, so that I can move up the salary ladder. Yup. Maybe.

Maybe, instead, teachers should be paid a living wage from day one. 

Is that really such a novel idea? I’m most assuredly not the first person to suggest this…

We put money into things we value: sports, entertainment, the food industry. Then, when our waiters can’t calculate our bills, we complain. We curse the education system. The very system we put no attention, money, or concern into, until it fails us, personally.

Teachers are leaving the profession at a startling rate. In Nevada, there is such an extreme shortage of teachers that we are practically begging people off the streets to come teach our children. Not exactly off the streets, but we are welcoming unqualified people into a classroom of their own. A classroom they did not earn, like the rest of us.

When I was working towards my degree and teaching license, I had to complete 16 weeks of grueling student teaching. And, when I say, ‘grueling‘, I mean that I cried almost weekly (I am not a crier, so this was extreme for me). I could recognize the sound of my supervisor’s heels, five doors down, against the hallway floor, as she descended upon the classroom. The second I heard those “click-clicks”, I began sweating profusely, until my shirt was soaked, and she was long gone after ripping apart my lesson. I spent almost every waking minute writing lessons, preparing, and praying. It was the longest, hardest, unpaid 16-week work experience I have ever had. I felt like the stress, monitoring, being told I had to do my lesson planning again-because it wasn’t good enough, and feeling inadequate would never end. But, guess what? It did end, and I emerged a prepared, confident, take-charge teacher.

My school district, in order to entice classified employees into the classroom is offering a 3 week (I believe, paid) “mini” internship. They also have 3 years to complete necessary coursework, and unless this is just hearsay, they will be paid a sign on bonus, along with a starting salary higher than mine.

Full stop. I am still reeling from the sting from that slap in the face.

How can this be? How can unqualified individuals be welcomed to teach, in an already struggling state, with practically zero understanding of how to do their extremely important jobs? How can they make more than a teacher who has put in her due time? How can 3 weeks prepare you for the classroom?

Student teaching, the beautiful torture of student teaching, is a rite of passage. No one. No one should be handed their own classroom without completing the same amount of weeks with the same intensity and expectations. No one.

I am angry. Resentful. Bitter. 

This was news I did not need to hear after learning that I am on one of the few salary steps not getting a raise this year.

Our teacher shortage wouldn’t even exist had the teachers who fled been paid what they were worth. This wouldn’t be happening if teachers were paid for the long hours they put in. I’m no fortune teller, but I bet that if excellent teachers have left the field, the inexperienced, unprepared ones will too. 

Until teachers are fairly compensated, the festering wounds in our education system will not heal. 

There will be at least one person who says, in response to this post, “You knew what you were getting into when you signed on the dotted line. Teaching is a calling, and if you can’t make it work, get out of the profession.” 

Or, something like that. 

To that, I will say the following:

  1. I will likely get out of the profession. Or, at the very least, spend thousands more on a masters degree, so I can work outside of the classroom and make more money. 
  2. Teaching is a calling. You know who else calls? Your landlord and bill collectors. 
  3. Teachers aren’t nuns, living in a convent. Do you think teachers who hear the “calling” live in magic, free teacher compounds?
  4. Get real. 
  5. I knew exactly what my pay was when I signed on the dotted line. Then the cost of living went up, but my salary didn’t. 
  6. Good day. 

In ending, nothing will change, in regards to teacher pay. No one wants to pay for something if they have to wait longer than standard shipping times for it to be delivered. Investing in the future isn’t as rewarding as investing in the salary of a football player who rapes his girlfriend. Amurica! 

When no one knows the difference between a country and a continent and everyone speaks and writes in text speak, maybe we will wish we paid to keep the good teachers. Maybe. 

A Movie Review and a Lesson in Anthropology 

Last night, Wayne and I watched the new Vacation movie. It wasn’t out on our usual cheapskate go-to, Redbox, but it was available on Amazon for $4.99. There was literally nothing else that looked remotely good. We were in the mood for a goofy, funny, lighthearted night, so we thought $5 was worth it. Well, I am seriously considering contacting Amazon for a refund. What a waste of time. 

Except for Chris Hemsworth’s unfortunate underwear overshare, the movie had no redeeming qualities whatsoever (and anyone with half a brain, knows it was a prop, so really, just another disappointment). 

The jokes were so lame, I felt embarrassed for the actors. The whole time I was cringing, covering my eyes, and praying it was just a lame warm up, and the funny parts would make an appearance.

No, that wasn’t funny. Not remotely.

Barf is not funny. Who is the targeted demographic? 10 year-old boys??

The joke is dead. It’s effing dead, already. 

Just give it up. 

Wow, my cuticles look awful. 

Chevy Chase and Beverly D’Angelo’s cameo was completely overshadowed by D’Angelo’s frighteningly plastic face and Chase’s drunk zombie imitation. I know aging is a bitch, but I find that 70-year-olds with plastic surgery look like they are wearing masks. It’s creepy as fuck, and straight from my darkest nightmares. There is nothing wrong with wrinkles, Beverly. Rock your natural self, girl! And Chevy, I…I don’t have words…

I don’t usually like to poke fun at other people, but they weren’t funny, it wasn’t nice to see them, and I’m mad that they didn’t try harder. 

What really bothered me (you’re probably all, “There’s more? Damn girl. Alright, let it all out) was the younger brother and his mouth. 

That little shit needed a swift kick in the ass, a mouthful of perfumey soap, and reform school. Please tell me people don’t find 8-year-olds with mouths that rival the scurviest of sailors funny. Please

For the sake of humanity, please tell me this wasn’t funny to the masses. I’m literally begging over here. 

I have a pretty sour mouth, but I’m 30-fucking-2, and I know when and where it’s appropriate to drop f-bombs. My third graders haven’t even heard me use the word, ‘heck’, and when I find out they curse, it hurts my heart. I have a standard of behavior I demonstrate and expect in my classroom. I’m classy as fuck in my slacks and chambray. 

In all seriousness, we (everyone inhabiting this Earth) are allowing things that shouldn’t be OK in media and entertainment. I know more parents than I want to even comprehend, let their children-far too young-watch that movie. Now, it’s funny to be a little, inappropriate fucker. 

And, the parents in the movie did nothing about their criminal son’s behavior. Nothing. Had that been my kid, I would have washed his mouth out with the nastiest soap I could find, removed every single belonging from his room, and threatened boot camp so fast he wouldn’t have known what hit him. 

Kids, it’s not funny, attractive, or intelligent to use curse words like that kid in the movie. When you drop F bombs every other word in the grocery store, in the park, or at school, you look ignorant. You look stupid. You look like trash. You are our future, you have the potential to be something great. So, do better. Be better.

To the parents who monitor their children’s TV and movie options, and don’t allow disrespectful language, I applaud you. Unfortunately, your children will soon be the minority among a world of people who can’t tell the difference between ‘your’ and ‘you’re’, but know every curse word in 3 different languages. 

Impressive. Unthinkable. Terrifying. 

Next movie I see featuring an 8-year-old with a nastier mouth than me, I’m boycotting. I will seriously go to Michael’s and Home Depot to buy sign-making materials, and you will see my crazy ass boycotting being trash. 

Pray for our future, it’s gonna need it. 

Don’t Be An Asshole

How hard is it? Apparently, very hard, because wow, so many people are assholes. 

We all should have the right to live our lives as we see fit, but when your living takes away another’s rights, you need to slow your roll. Step back, bish.

Back when I first moved into the apartment building I live in (almost 5 years ago), I was introduced to the unwritten “rules” and considerations of the building. Those rules were, basically, “Don’t Be An Asshole”. It seemed pretty simple. Common sense, ya know? 

Some examples:

  1. Don’t run your vacuum at 3:00 AM
  2. Keep prostitute visits to a minimum
  3. Don’t leave your shit-stained underwear in the shared washer for hours, because… I shouldn’t have to explain why 
  4. Due to the paper thin walls, try to muffle your screams/moans
  5. Take your damn garbage out…or remove the dead body from the premises 
  6. A Non-Smoking building MEANS YOU DON’T SMOKE IN YOUR APARTMENT
  7. Don’t slam your doors like a spoiled-brat child 
  8. If you’re deaf, maybe music isn’t for you
  9. In case you weren’t previously aware, you are not the only tenant in a single family home-THIS IS A SHITTY APARTMENT BUILDING 

The reason these rules are especially important where I live is because the building was built in the 60’s, during a time when properties were mass-produced, hastily. Not to mention, the landlord won’t even fix a leaking toilet. Mix it all up, for a very special poop-flavored smoothie, and you have a building where when your neighbor sneezes, you say, “Bless you” and they respond, “Thank you, Katie.” These considerations are integral to the functionality of the building and the sanity of the tenants.  

For almost four glorious years, I lived here in peace. The other tenants were older, quiet, and almost hermit-like. It was the ideal life. I was never woken from my sleep. I never had to say to my neighbors, “So, um last night…for three straight hours…”

Nope. 

I almost forgot that I had any neighbors. It was how it should be. My neighbors and I abided by those unspoken, “Don’t Be a Dick” rules. Because, we weren’t dicks. 

Now, I’ve had to deal with crappy neighbors, one after the other. 

I don’t recall ever being taught, specifically, about how to be kind to my neighbors, but it was taught. It was taught when I was yelled at for blasting Bush at 11 PM on a school night. It was taught when I was reprimanded for putting my dirty dishes outside my bedroom door, for someone else to deal with. My dirty dishes found their way back on my bed, with a note, “This isn’t the Hilton.” That did it. It was taught when my dad threatened to pull the plug on a raucous slumber party, with phone and car keys in hand. That’s all it took. It was taught. 

Not only was it taught, I was witness to my parents being decent fucking people. When we saw people being creeps in public, my parents pointed out why it wasn’t decent behavior. Living in this day and age, I had an endless amount of learning opportunities. 

This rant is for the assholes who live a paper-thin wall away from me and for all the other people who aren’t aware that they aren’t the CENTER OF THE EFFING UNIVERSE. Look around, open your eyes, it isn’t all about you. 

Genius Theory

I don’t usually write about serious topics, but this has to be said written or I’ll burst. I think I’ve come across a genius theory. Let me first state my opinions about a few, somewhat, controversial subjects. I’ll just come out and be blunt about it. In fact, I’ll share my opinion on these myriad topics in a very easy to read, list format. 

  • I don’t want to see your boobies, even when you’re breast feeding
  • I don’t care what your political affiliation is
  • I don’t care if you’re gay, straight, or you make love to balloons 
  • I don’t enjoy seeing your vagina hanging out of your jean shorts, and frankly, I feel sorry for you, because you either need a mama, Jesus, or both
  • If 90% of your Instagram are selfies, you need to reevaluate your life
  • No one wants to read your blog/Facebook posts/Tweets because you don’t know the difference between to, too, and two 
  • It infuriates me that people like Kylie Jenner, Miley Cyrus, and Riff Raff are people our future looks up to
  • Your divorce, family drama, and fights with your friends don’t belong on social media 
  • It used to be rude to talk about your salary, it still should be
  • Public shaming used to be a way to deter people from being stupid, now whenever someone doesn’t like someone’s response to their behavior, they can just cry ‘shaming’ and it makes their stupidity OK

We have become a society of over-sharing, defensive pussies. Here comes my genius theory. Are you ready for it? Drum roll please…maybe, just maybe people wouldn’t be so apt to be offended by every little thing out there, if more people in our society had values, decorum, and half a brain to know when, where, and how certain topics should be shared. 

People complain all the time about others being too offended by things, but maybe saying that is just an excuse to be an asshole. 

Just the other day I witnessed an older lady being attacked on a news story’s comment section because she didn’t understand how to click the link to read the story. Some cretin actually cussed her out and told her to get off social media. I was offended by that because it used to be rude to treat your elders, anyone, like that. We have become complacent when it comes to being decent human beings to others, because it takes zero thought to send a “meaningless” message from your phone, while you sit in your parents’ basement, sitting on your non-existent high horse. 

Decent people are offended by offensive things. That doesn’t make us losers or wimps. It makes us human. 

As for the pussification of America-we are being offended by the wrong things. Someone called you fat? Boo hoo. Just the other day some elderly, foreign woman rubbed her belly, pointed to mine and asked, “Bebe?” Yeah, that sucked, but I got over it. Mean, obtuse, and/or clueless people are never going to go away, so instead of overemphasizing bullying, we need to teach our youth how to let things go, how to care more about how they feel about themselves, and how to just move on after someone’s been mean to them.

Instead of giving everyone an award just for participating, or accepting the outcries of “shaming”, when maybe we need to consider if the action deems being shamed, we should be offended by what really matters. 

These are things we should be offended by: 

  • Racism 
  • The trend that appearance is more valuable than character
  • Blatant ignorance 
  • Adults not being able to string a legible sentence together 
  • Sexism 
  • The lack of family values running rampant and how that correlates to almost everything wrong in our world 
  • Gory, disturbing, indecent images not suitable for young eyes and minds 
  • Wearing slippers in Walmart 

This is an abridged version, as I think these few points serves my theory well. Stop being an asshole, think before you hit ‘send’, and consider having more respect for yourself by not posting your bottom butt on social media. 

Good day.