Things You Should Never Say to a Woman: part 1

There are many things, that barring you having a deep desire to die, that should ever be uttered to any woman you know. Trust me, you will be eternally grateful to me for providing you with this information. We are not that complex, you are just THAT simple. Commit these to memory and live happily ever after.

1.  When are you due? Unless you have a death wish or have no intention of ever speaking to this woman again, do not ask this question. Certain criteria allow you to inquire, prior knowledge of her pregnancy or she is so far along you fear her water may break and splash on your favorite shoes. If neither of these choices exist, keep your big freakin mouth shut. Believe me, asking the wrong woman that question could result in her assisting you in shutting it...for good. Women do tend to yo-yo in the weight department, assuming that her excess belly fat is due to having a small human nestled inside her is one of the most insulting things you can say. I had been asked that question after losing 25 pounds on my way to 50 on Weight Watchers one time, and the only thing that prevented me from shanking the offender in the throat was that I was at work.

2. You've lost A LOT of weight! While this seems, on the surface, to be a wonderful compliment, it's actually a stab right in the eye to a woman. I know you are trying to be nice, but we hear something totally different. Our version sounds something like this, "Holy fuck! You used to be a fucking cow...Jesus H. Christ, you must have had your enormous jaw wired shut!" Turning something with good intentions into the biggest insult you've flung that day. Thus, putting you and your jejunum in grave danger.

3. You look really nice today. Depending on whether or not you have freely given this woman compliments before this time, expressing positive affirmations about her clothing and hair, it could mean the difference between retaining and losing your nutsack. If you've never told us that you approve of our appearance and your emphasis is on the today, you've just told us that on other occasions, we look uglier than a bag of assholes. Never say this line with shock in your voice, that just endangers your bag boys oh so much more. Maintain an even tone, and remember to be specific about at least one detail, or we will assume you usually find us hideously unattractive.

4. Dump his ass.  No matter what your opinion of her boyfriend or husband, unless she is ready to hear it, never tell her the complete truth. Now, you are probably asking yourself, "How the hell do I know when she is ready?" You may never know, but unless you are a domestic violence counselor and she has come to you specifically for advice about how to leave him, err on the side of caution. Usually, someone says this because the guy is a generic jerk, forgot a birthday or two, is lazy, cheap or just loud-mouthed. She may complain all the fucking time. The temptation is there, right on the tip of your tongue. But, if your intention isn't to break off the friendship, bite that tongue until it bleeds if necessary. Because, the fight will be over, they will be madly in love all over again, and now your negative and caustic opinion of him lingers like a bad fart.

5.  Are you going to finish that?  Why do you want to know? Keeping tabs on every bite that goes into my mouth? Are you genuinely hungry, because if so, ask for a fucking piece. Otherwise, don't worry about what I eat.  Look at your own massive ass first and take care of that. When you ask a woman that question, she hears, "Don't you think you've had enough?" Which does translate in woman-ese to "You are an enormous, fat slob, you pig bitch." If there was ever a reason to commit murder, you've given it directly to us on a silver platter, asshole.
     

It takes one to know one

Not always evident right away, this theory can apply to a future transformation in personality or behavior. Lurking within every harsh critic is the hidden version of that which they criticize. Experts will tell you that we despise characteristics in others that are most like us...the things about us we just don't like. Imagine that. Yet, we are all guilty of this judgmental habit on a regular basis. I am not immune to it, although I'll bet you figured that out. For me, it was designer purse envy manifesting itself as mockery of those with designer purses. Anyone sporting a Coach, Dooney and Burke, Michael Kors, or Louis Vuitton was subject to my bitter assessment of their choice in handbag. What a colossal waste of money! Spending hundreds on a bag that carries tampons, a wallet, and lipstick...seriously. Who does this? How fucking stupid and really, why buy one expensive bag when you can buy many different ones at Target for way less? I can have a closet filled with purses for the price you are paying for that overpriced satchel. Until I drank the Kool Aid and discovered my love for all things Michael Kors. Guilty as charged, I have several of his handbags and do not plan on stopping there.

This is not a preventable disease. I learned it the hard way with my new-found purse addiction. Once totally convinced that designer handbags were a waste of hard-earned cash, I've done a total turn around. Hell, I've even passed this love to my daughter, who also owns MK purses and a wallet. I've achieved acceptance and added myself to the list of fools who will spend an asswad on a fucking pocketbook. This is also what separates me from you. The rest of you ass clowns will stand in judgement of others and never once notice that you are either AS guilty of the supposed crime or ABOUT to become as guilty. Those of you who swore up the left and down the right that your flip phone was sufficient and you already had a computer are the same people I've seen waiting in line for the new iPhone 5. Calling those of us with SmartPhones spoiled and wasteful. Accusing us of having an unhealthy need to be in touch with everyone every minute of every day and accessing the internet unnecessarily throughout the day. What is that you are doing on that iPhone you HAD to have the second it hit the market?  I admit to being slightly obsessed with my phone and being absolutely, without a doubt unable to go back to a regular telephone-only cell phone.

Those of you glued to your phones while crossing the street and causing me to delight in scaring the living shit out of you by blaring my car's horn are the same people who mocked those of us who jumped on the SmartPhone bandwagon at the speed of sound. Just because we jumped on board before you and developed an intimate relationship with our phones before you, doesn't make you any less of a tool for doing the same goddamn thing. We did it without passing judgement. But don't for one minute think that we've forgotten all the shit you said about us and our phones. This is probably why we now mock you and your incessant phone checking as if you are expecting that all-important email from Jesus Christ. No one is THAT important, but I don't begrudge you that idiosyncrasy. Have at it. I understand how today's society has turned us into instant gratification whores. I don't deny that I have become one, to a degree.  Type and scroll away, my friend.  Do it with abandon, I won't judge.

People who pooh-pooh shopping at discount stores and consignment stores piss me off. Because, you know and I know, most of us are not independently wealthy and work hard for our money. Having been raised by one of the most frugal women on the planet, I learned early on that money did NOT grow on trees, nor was she made of money. I also learned how to bargain shop, use coupons, and embrace the clearance racks. Trust me, I never walked around town looking like nobody's child. Quite the contrary, you'd have thought we were rolling in dough to look at me. My closet was bursting with clothing, as were my dressers and the additional set of shelves we bought and the very fashionable clothing rack I also had in my room. You'd never know that I actually did grow up fairly poor. I envied those who had more than one pair of designer jeans and Reebok sneakers. We couldn't afford that luxury.

Back to those who laugh at smart shoppers such as myself. I personally know a couple who would swear by the old saw, "You get what you pay for" and would never buy something that didn't have a name attached.  Even food, for Christ's sake! No generic canned vegetables in that house, no sir. Fancy names equaled quality to these folks. Not knowing that many manufacturers package under multiple names, some for the wealthier consumer and some for the rest of us. Red Gold Tomatoes, which operates in Indiana, cans under the name Tutto Rosso and ships it to the East Coast for the discriminating Italians who have no clue it's the same as the can of Redpack, Red Gold, or Sacramento other folks buy because it's the same fucking company. I was one of those discriminating Italians. However, I did not subscribe to the whole "give me name brands or give me death" way of thinking. I seriously thought the Tutto Rosso tasted the best.

Fast forward to today, the same people who turned their nose up at my bargain shopping are now frequenting the same types of stores that I do, avoiding the phone for fear of bill collectors making actual contact. Living above your means because you think being a snob makes you better than everyone else only serves to make you one thing, broke. It's my turn to laugh and laugh I will. We are the same under the skin and what you purchase doesn't change your DNA. And, in case you didn't know, most of us were born with pretty average, blue collar DNA. I was and I am not ashamed to admit it. Fuck all of you who look down your noses at me, pitying my sad upbringing and unfortunate gene pool. I wouldn't be the person I am without it.

Facebook seems to figure prominently in my writing, today is no different. I jumped on that train when it first left the station, enjoying the ability to reconnect with people I hadn't even thought about in years. Joking around, sharing photos, and discussing the events of the day via stati and comments were light-hearted and interesting ways to spend a little time on the internet. As much as I love Googling random shit that pops into my head, actual communication was definitely nosing ahead of that pastime. This little hobby subject me to a bit of mockery and ridicule from friends who didn't quite share this new interest of mine. Thinking they were just a bunch of old farts who couldn't wrap their ancient heads around a new and exciting concept, I ignored it. The snarky comments continued, asking why anyone would want to announce what they were drinking, eating, seeing, or where they were or where they were going, or their plans for the day, complete with an accompanying photo montage. It's called SOCIAL media for a reason, but that logic fell on deaf, sarcastic ears.

Years later, one person in particular turned an unusual corner and became a person very different from the one who teased me mercilessly about my love for Facebook. Now, each day I am privy to the minutiae of her life, the food she ingests, the libations she consumes, the places she travels within the course of any given day, and barfy and nauseating commentary on her extremely immature love life....complete with photo montage. Imagine my surprise and horror at witnessing this transformation right on my laptop! Could it be?  The very thing that caused me to be picked on a few years ago was now perfectly acceptable? Did the fact that her new boyfriend spent what seemed to be at least 15 hours per day on Facebook have anything to do with her change of heart? This type of douchebaggery has not gone unnoticed. Others have seen the same weird ass alien-like morphing and are all summarily disgusted.

My point is, and yes, I do have one, that people should be allowed to rock their individuality without fear of ridicule and taunting by those closest to them. We all have our quirks, oddities, and opinions. We are entitled to all of them. Besides, opinions tend to change over time and the thing you shunned five years ago may be your absolute favorite item of all time today. If you capped on that item five years ago, loudly and publicly, you now look like the biggest douche bag on two feet. Employing a live and let live attitude should be a requirement for being a member of the human race. Not one of us is just like the other, and that self changes over the course of a lifetime. Do your high-falutin' preferences make you better than people like me? Do your champagne tastes while carrying a beer pocketbook create a being more superior to me? Are you friggin kidding me right now???

The ER is the new Urgent Care office

Ever wonder why health care costs so much? Are you disgusted by the horrifically long wait times when you do go to the emergency room for a serious illness or accident? Before you start blaming our current administration and bashing Obama, have a peek into your own backyard. I do realize that in today's litigious world, doctors have to play cover ass regularly instead of simply practicing medicine, like they were trained to do. This puts an undue amount of stress on America's physicians and you have yourselves to blame. Since their insurance costs have been driven through the roof, you must remember that shit rolls downhill. But this is not the issue of which I speak.  It is not the root of the problem by any means.

When you take that backyard peek, think about the last time you rushed your child, husband, or self to the ER. What was the issue? Did someone break a bone? Were you having a heart attack? Did your husband double over from the pain of a burst appendix? Maybe one of you had a raging infection causing the highest, prolonged fever you've ever experienced, and were delirious? None of the above? I know, I know, you were stabbed in the forehead!!! No? Why the fuck are you there? You have a sore throat? A raging headache? The shits? A cold? These are emergencies in your house?!?! Do you know what constitutes a real emergency? It's obvious to me and I am sure to those in your immediate circle that you haven't a fucking clue.

When you decide that eating a bad egg is a reason to speed your ass to the emergency room simply because you've barfed a couple of times and have the hopping trots, you've made a huge error in judgement. Taking up a room and bed in the ER to be seen and hydrated because you are too stupid to chew on ice chips or slowly sip ginger ale fucks over the people sitting there bleeding to death. Did you stop to consider that on the way there? Of course not, you are a big baby who requires coddling and and a hand to hold every time you get the sniffles. Your pathetic inability to deal with the slightest amount of discomfort is the actual reason emergency rooms are clogged and our health care costs are through the fucking roof.

This is not to say that your shouldn't err on the side of caution with your children, especially if you have a baby. They are unable to communicate what is really wrong, and you can usually trust your gut instinct if it is telling you that it is serious. But when your son has a mosquito bite and he's really itchy and crying like a wuss because you've raised a goddamn veal, it is not the time to rush him to the ER because you now assume he is having an allergic reaction to the bite. Unless his arm blows up like a balloon, like my daughter's does, or he is having difficulty breathing, put the car keys down and give the little fucker a popsicle to shut his whining pie hole.

If the injured or ill party is your husband, try to remember that he is still a little boy under that manly facade and he still can't handle something as minor as a tummy ache. That doesn't detract from the fact that his fart bubble isn't a real emergency and shouldn't be treated as such. Telling him to go float an air biscuit and shut the fuck up should work nicely. Well, nicely enough as long as you direct him to the bathroom before such flotation takes place. The same rule applies if he has the shits or the sniffles. Remind him that there are people  with shunts in place for chemo and that if he doesn't plug his yap, you are cutting off access to the love train. Sometimes they need a little dose of reality, offer it to them.

Should you be the one suffering from an unbearable whateverthefuck, stop and assess the situation. Would you rush someone else to the hospital of all godforsaken places for this ailment? Probably not. I understand that when you've been in pain or discomfort for more than a day, it gets old. My migraines last for three days, no more and no less. I am resigned to their consistent and repeated tours of duty in my cranium. I don't whine all over Facebook about it, I go to work like a normal person, albeit hopped up on drugs, and I most certainly do NOT run to the ER begging for a fucking morphine drip. One reason is that IVs suck ass, they hurt more than is absolutely necessary to get rid of what is essentially a headache on steroids. Another is that I wasn't raised to be a withering little priss who can't handle pain. My migraines didn't brake for pregnancy, you know the time during which you can only take basically Children's Tylenol for a headache? So cry me a fucking river, but stay out of the ER.

Obama is not to blame for our health care crisis. He is not to be made the scapegoat for insurance rates rising into the atmosphere nor can he be called to task regarding the overcrowding in our emergency rooms. Look in the mirror and see the fucktard who actually IS causing all of our health care woes. Stop being such a baby every time you don't feel very well. Not every cough is bronchitis.  Not every wheeze is pneumonia. Sometimes the pukes and shits are just that, not a death sentence.  You won't dehydrate if you are a grown ass person who knows how to take small sips of liquid rather than have a nurse shove an IV line in your hand to force feed your body liquid. I know that most of you folks my age were not raised to be such fucking pussies. We are of stronger stock than that! I know for sure that I am strong like a big ugly ass bull. Are you friggin kidding me right now???

Two pukes away from anorexia or Hollywood moms one month post delivery

My love affair with food is widely known at this point, as is my weight yo-yoing. I'll be the first to admit that I struggle with weight, size, flab, and a deep and abiding love for delicious food and libations. So, when I rage on about this topic, it is with a serious amount of personal experience that I speak. When I was pregnant with my daughter over 17 years ago, I have to say that I took the two lines on that home pregnancy test to also mean that I was literally eating for two and could eat all I wanted...all day, every day. It was a license for me to gorge. Was it wise? No. Did my doctor approve of the mammoth weight gain that was being charted each month at my OB check-ups? Hell no. Was the gestational diabetes fun for me? Totally...not. Did I enjoy every delicious morsel that passed through my lips? OH MY GOD DID I!!! NY Chinese and pizza delivery on speed dial, I was in heaven on Earth. Bagels with thick slabs of cream cheese every morning, huge bowls of ice cream at night, it was like a dream come true.  Not only was I about to become a mom, but I was eating like I had 5 assholes.  Does it get any better than that? I think not.

Fast forward to one month post-partum. Was I still a hulking fat ass? Boy howdy was I! Enormous and bloated, I waddled around in sizes I am too embarrassed to even type today. Probably because I was still eating like I was still pregnant. It's way too easy to get used to eating that way. Anyone who has had children can tell you that. Plus, the added stress of new motherhood, the severe sleep deprivation, and fucked up hormones all play a role in this roller coaster. Those of you who decided to behave like Olympians in training during your pregnancies, fuck you. Running on the treadmill, eating rabbit food, and looking skinny from behind, only having a tiny ball in front of you to indicate that you are, indeed, carrying a human being inside your body, you didn't quite grasp the concept of being with child. You didn't bloom and blossom. I'd also bet your baby was tiny. My fat ass produced a perfectly sized 7lb 1.5oz baby girl. Suck on that.

It took me almost three years to get back into shape and lose all that fat. While that might be on the longish side, it was done in a very healthy and gradual manner. Eating right and exercising, not crash dieting, starving myself, or blowing chunks after each meal. For some, that process may be faster. Screw you and your fast metabolism. But realistically speaking, it took you 40 weeks to balloon up to that weight, how can you be expected to lose it in four? That makes absolutely no sense. Neither practical nor healthy, no one should attempt to do that. You have just performed a physical feat so exhausting, painful, difficult, and are likely to be taking on the task of caring for this new human on your own because Dad has to work, and if you've made the right choice, you are now home as the primary caregiver. Anyone who thinks this is the time to begin an intense workout regime coupled with a rigorous, time-consuming diet plan is high. The body requires healing time, and you need proper rest so you can care for your child.

Hollywood, bless it's fairytale mindset and unattainable perfection. So many actresses that want to play the role of Mommy these days, baby bumps are being spotted everywhere. Don't they all look adorable? Perfect skin and hair, sporting the pregnancy glow, and the ever-expanding tummies protruding out in front of them. Some even get pretty damn large by Hollywood standards.  Oh hell, they get fat as fucking cows. We all tsk tsk when we see them with their Venti Quad Mochas in hand, rushing from store to store shopping for baby. Too much caffeine is no bueno for a baby. As they get huge, we snicker at them because this is one time we are actually thinner than they are and it feels pretty damn good. They balloon and we derive sick pleasure watching it happen. Well, I do. You can admit to it in the privacy of your home where only God hears you.

And here is where we find our bodies are most definitely not the same as the rich and famous. Why is that, you ask? How come they can pop a baby out and slip into a slinky dress a month or two later? Where is their residual flab, the tummy pooch of the childbearing woman, the wider hips reminiscent of the days when a person lived inside them? Aside from the obvious...they have cooks, they have personal trainers, they have the luxury of around the clock nannies so they CAN utilize their home gyms and the services of the aforementioned personal trainers...they have amazing plastic surgeons. That's right, I said it and I'll say it again, plastic surgery is what separates them from us. When you have a plastic surgeon on deck during your planned C-section, ready to suck the fat and tuck the tummy, you, too can look like you just came back from the spa instead of donning the appearance of someone who forced a baby out of your vagina with a brute force only a woman can muster.

Of course, this is not to say that these ladies don't also suffer from a host of eating disorders and follow oddball fad diets, like Madonna and her clear broth bullshit and psychotic workouts that cause her to look like an emaciated man. Nothing they do is remotely healthy but Christ on the cross, they look fabulous. If they want to kill themselves from the inside out, that's their issue. Unrealistic concepts of beauty and sex appeal force those in the business to take extreme measures to fit those expectations, and shove it down our throats day in and day out through our routine media viewing.  Whether it be in print or on a screen, these images are our basis for what is considered to be attractive, and the means to get there are all acceptable because they are famous and therefore, all knowing and correct. What the fuck is this world coming to, has everyone lost their goddamn minds all at the same time???

The reality is, our bodies were made to be curvy, soft, yielding, and able to carry another person for 40 weeks and bring that person into the world using only our own strength and natural instincts. A look into the past will show you that women weren't always considered to be desirable when they looked like 12 year old boys, having no hips, no thighs, a concave stomach, and bony shoulders. Instead of celebrating our womanliness, we fight against it as we diet, manically workout, take weird-ass supplements, binge and purge, and essentially starve ourselves until we turn into our favorite movie star, or so we think. Having a baby only proves how sexy we are, how magnificent our bodies can be, and how luscious and sensual curves actually look. Boobs don't grow on a stick. If you see a really skinny broad with huge cans, know this, those are the store-bought kind. Women with curves have them all over, and can fill out a sweater WAY better than you anorexic freak shows. Are you friggin kidding me right now???

Say it loud, say it proud...just not all the fucking time

Every day we all have the potential for greatness. Well, maybe not ALL do, but most people are able to do something for which they feel pride. Whether it's getting out of bed in the morning, making a delicious breakfast, getting the kids off to school, exercising, or reading a book. Some may go one step further and produce something creative or share their time and talents with those less fortunate. Life is definitely worthy of celebration and should be appreciated on a daily basis. I don't begrudge any of you Glad-asses your regular cheering, whooping, and jazz-hands ways of professing your satisfaction for the way you handle your life. Party on. Public announcements of the really big stuff, once in a while, are acceptable. Sadly, and much to my perpetual disgust, most people abuse the privilege.

Whether you are attempting to pat yourself on the back or you are seeking external validation, you are being a fucking ass clown. If you did something that is truly praiseworthy, others would notice and say so.  You wouldn't have to beg for it. Oh, you didn't think that was begging? When you post incessantly about each and every miniscule milestone you believe you've reached, I throw up a little in my mouth. What seems amazing to you, is actually a whole lot of nothing to the rest of us. We hate feeling forced to feign interest and enthusiasm for your bullshit. The truth is, we really don't give a ripe fuck. For many, this is hard to say out loud when faced with yet another cry for attention. Hell, sometimes it's hard for me, and I possess no edit button whatsoever.

Maybe you are one of those people who had parents who clapped and shouted every time you took a step or shit into the toilet instead of your pants? We've all seen those parents. The constant affirmations of their child's every breath, decision, and explosive fart. These are the children who grow up to think that everyone should cheer when they simply TRY to do something. Complete failures academically, they are the reason many schools are eliminating red pens, letter grading systems, and report cards altogether. These folks are emotional nightmares, having no real sense of self esteem except as it is based on someone else's opinion of them. This may be why you are seeking my approval and accolades when you do something you should do, like clean your house or drive your kids to their activities. That's your job, adults have responsibilities and real ones take care of them with minimal fanfare.

Perhaps, and this is where I think many of you lie, perhaps you are just an utter douche canoe with an inflated ego, a need to show off, and actually believe that others share your worship of YOU. Allow me to correct you publicly. While you may think you are as close to perfection as you can get on planet Earth, the rest of us see you as more of a dick with feet. It's one thing to love yourself, and you should, I wouldn't presume to dissuade you of doing so. It is quite another to think that you may have actually fallen off the cross to walk among us lowly shitheads. There's only one Jesus, and honey, it ain't you. Going to the gym is not cause to shoot off fireworks or plan a victory party. If you are someone for whom exercise has been impossible for years due to health problems that have since been eradicated from your life, then by all means, shout it from the rooftop every time you step on that treadmill!

BUT, if you are someone who just exercises partially for health and partially for fun and bounces around from Zumba to spinning classes, from aqua aerobics to boot camp because you have the attention span of a gnat and is prone to giving up or getting bored easily, shut the fuck up about your early morning trip to the gym. Likely, you are also someone with a whole lot of spare time, few real friends, and nothing to do. That is certainly something I wouldn't be screaming out my window for all to hear. I'd be embarrassed that I couldn't find something more productive to do with my glaring excess of free time.  Exercise is healthy and wonderful.  You should find time to do it at least three times a week. Notice I said to FIND time? Not fill your void and then proclaim it to the world in anticipation of a flood of congratulations. And to those of you who do participate in the celebratory head-bloating kudos, you're lucky shanking is illegal and punishable with jail time. There are others just like me who may not fear prison quite as much as I do...so keep up the buffoonery.

My point, and I do have one, is this, whether you seek validation because you are insecure or because you are having an embarrassing love affair with yourself that you want others to share, you are single-handedly driving the rest of us bat-shit insane. Most of you wouldn't know a real accomplishment unless it crawled up behind you and bit your fat ass. I have an idea, a great idea that I know is impossible for you, do something amazing just for you and don't tell anyone. Can you manage to fold three loads of laundry without telling anyone? Can you enter a gym quietly and exit just as quietly, leaving your phone in your purse so you aren't tempted to Tweet, Instagram, and Facebook about it? I seriously doubt it. Who would comment, "like" or favorite your grand feat of fabulosity if you didn't?  Where would you get the virtual pats on the back you so desperately require every day? Let me assure you, if you are seeking this validation from me, you are barking up the wrong fucking tree.  Are you friggin kidding me right now???

Catch phrases belong on TV sitcoms, not spewing from your piehole

No one loves The Big Bang Theory more than I do, and when Sheldon says, "Bazinga," I laugh like an idiot every single time. Catch phrases have long been the stuff of which sitcoms are made, the line that always brings applause, and an integral part of that character. They are funny in and out of context. When you hear it, you know exactly which character said it, how it sounded, and how it made you pee your pants. Mind you, I'm not implying that YOU start adopting the catch phrase of your favorite TV character and start bandying it about like a goddamn fool. You don't get paid to say, "Bazinga," Jim Parsons does, and with good reason.  He is funny as fuck and an actual actor on a real TV show. Trust me when I tell you that it just doesn't sound the same when you say it. As a matter of fact, I'm going out on a limb here and including others, we would all like to rip your head off and shit down your neck when we hear you incessantly utter someone else's lines.

Let's go one step further. When you say something quite often, it does become a sort of catch phrase that you can call your very own. Sometimes it's funny, sometimes it's sarcastic, and yes, it's all yours. So, like Sheldon, you can say that you have your very own catch phrase. The difference still remains, you aren't getting paid to say it, so when you decide that you need to incorporate it into every sentence, you risk death and/or dismemberment each time you utter it in my presence. I've noticed that the folks who tend to abuse the shit out of a word or saying have been told once or twice that it's funny. Seems to be all the fuel they need to light that fire under their asses which forces them to say it, write it, tweet it, post it several hundred times per day. Just because a close friend tells you that you said something that made them laugh, doesn't give you carte blanche to shove it down my throat. That person clearly has a very low IQ and zero sense of humor.

At this point, I am confident that you are pointing and laughing at me because I do, indeed, have a catch phrase, and I use it in ALL my writing. You are probably nudging the person next to you, telling them what a hypocrite I am for even suggesting that regular Joes shouldn't use one. This is where you and I differ, and you come out the loser. This is a blog, it's a writer's forum for expression, and therefore, I can use and abuse the shit out of it. Not only that, but it IS the title of the fucking blog. Can you say the same? Didn't think so. You are just a less than average human, plodding along on this planet, believing that you have reinvented the wheel by saying something so frequently that you are now "known" for it within your circle of friends. Being known for saying something totally fucktarded that makes your asshat friends laugh isn't the same thing as being famous. Get over yourself.

All too often I see certain people online, posting their inane "sayings" every day, in each and every post. It's neither cute nor funny. It almost makes you look like you lack basic vocabulary skills to form new and different sentences without using your "word" each time. While this could come close to making me sad and pity you, the fact that I don't give a fetid shit about you prevents me from mustering up those feelings. The best I can offer is disgust, disdain, and a bit of irritation. When your friends crack up every time you call something a bitchass, it means they are mental midgets, not that you are a fucking comedian. It also doesn't mean that you now have to say it every time we meet, or find a way to utilize it in all your posts and tweets. Sometimes, and I'm not saying this to be a douchebag, but sometimes it just doesn't suit the occasion or fit the situation about which you are speaking. Sometimes, it makes you look illiterate. Actually, almost all the time. I was being nice, and since that is out of character for me, I don't want to confuse you. You seem dumb enough already.

This post will now spin on its axis and flip over to the other side and become a PSA. When you have a friend or acquaintance that says something funny, laugh at them for an appropriate amount of time and end it. Do not, I repeat, do NOT tell them that it was the funniest thing you have ever heard, and that one word in particular stands out and you wish you had thought of it. Never tell them that they should use that word or phrase all the time. Filling their heads with compliments and making them feel like comedic geniuses and great literary minds, does the world no favors. What it will do, is subject the rest of us to a never-ending barrage of that saying, to the point where there is no escape except for gouging out your own ears until deaf or dead. Please, spare me the flood of stupidity on my timeline and Twitter feed. There are enough dim bulbs on this planet and we don't need to recruit any more. Are you friggin kidding me right now??? (Yeah, I said it, kiss my big, ghetto ass)

The nicer you are, the less I trust you

Sounds insane at first glance, doesn't it? I've never claimed to be society's view of normal, but in this instance, I believe you'll agree with me by the time you finish reading my rant.  We all know at least one person who fits this mold. She is sweet as pie, to your face. Before now, you didn't realize that you had a one woman fan club, cheering section, and goody baker. Asking is not necessary, she offers to help you plan your party, buy your new dress, pick up your child from school, and sew your hem. You have what seems like hundreds of new posts on your timeline, all because they "reminded her of you" or she just "knew" you'd love them! The part that gives you pause, the thing that causes you to feel a cold shiver down the back of your neck, is that you've only just met. Recently.

At first, it feels as though you've found a new bestie, someone who totally gets you, who is just like YOU! Sharing many of the same quirks, obsessions, and interests, you wonder where this chick has been all your life. Not only that, she's so goddamn nice. Anticipating your needs like your mom used to, this woman is worth her weight in gold. Even your other, older friends are beginning to pale by comparison. Never once mocking your OCD way of organizing your sock drawer or the ADD way you clean your house every other week because life keeps getting in the way of spotlessness. Your coffee addiction is not only fully supported, it's actually shared by this gift from heaven. Gets it? Fully understands, empathizes, and has the exact same issue.

Feeling like God has finally answered your prayers by putting your twin here on Earth to befriend you and join you in the journey of life, you can't believe your good fortune. You start planning outings, marathon phone calls, and become each other's most frequent comment buddies on FB. Always there to offer moral support, an ego boost, a compliment, or a laugh, this chick is your new favorite person. And even though your other friends, your real friends are skeptical as hell and have no problem telling you so, you wave them off with the flick of your hand thinking that they are just jealous of your new simpatico relationship. How could they possibly understand?  They don't get you like she does, and really, when is the last time they brought you homemade banana muffins and oatmeal cookies? I know, right?

But then you notice something, something strange and disturbing that you try to push out of your mind because it's too silly to give a second thought. Yet it continues to niggle away at you, invading your island getaway daydreams and throwing you so off course, you have to actually address it. She's that way with everyone! Somehow, some way, she has simpatico with every fucking person with whom she comes into contact. How can that be? She was your friendship soulmate. That bond was yours and yours alone. What the fuck is going on here?! When you step back and observe her behavior with others, it sure seems like this bitch is sucking up to them. Kissing their asses, agreeing with everything they say, commisserating with all their complaints and woes, and telling these people how she feels so connected to them because they share oh so much in common. Surely that is considered ass kissing, isn't it?

Isn't that what she had been doing with you all along? Hadn't she been filling your head full of bullshit since the day you met? Can someone really be THAT nice, or is that just a facade to make her believe she has tons and tons of friends? If you guessed the latter, then step away from the short bus, you've proven you are smarter than a baboon. The other and more fucked up issue with this broad, is that she not only isn't that nice, but she is usually the most manipulative, conniving, opportunistic, phony bitch you'll meet in this lifetime. Surprise, surprise.  If it seems too good to be true, it probably is and you should learn to trust that little voice inside your head more often. Except when it tells you to run out and skin all the people who can't drive in your neighborhood. Are those just MY personal voices? No shock there.

Now that I've put doubt into your mind, you've begun to notice it, too. Not only are you observing the clearly fake overabundance of friendliness, coupled with a fast, intense friendship, and what would appear to the naked eye to be genuine concern for your well-being. But now you are also aware of the fact that it is spread far and wide like a pole dancer's legs and as fake as her tits. The rest of her behavior is so incongruous with the nurturing side she shows you. You start to see the bullshit she is pulling with people she claims to love, people she purports to value in her life. Her incessant need for external validation is blinding and you now are sickened by the fact that you actually felt something for this piece of rancid horse shit. The sole reason she latched on to you was to get from you what she was pretending to give.

What we have here is a desperate need to be accepted and loved, all while presenting a false front to those from whom she seeks acceptance. Morphing into a carbon copy of you and anyone else she comes into contact with just to elicit the validation she craves along with whatever else she can garner from a relationship with you. Men, be very leery of a woman who seems to be a female you. There are NO female versions of you, trust me. She doesn't love bourbon, hunting, and farting the theme to Bonanza along with you and your buddies. She doesn't share a love for guzzling beers, watching football, and ogling bimbos with you. If she says she does, run.  Run far and run fast. This skank wants something from you and she will drain you dry, and not in the way you think. Your little man is only a means to an end.  Once she gets what she came for, she is out and you are broke and alone, buddy.

Friendships develop over time. They grow, they change, they intensify...but not within the course of a week. The getting-to-know you period isn't a 2 hour process that culminates in slicing open a finger and becoming blood-sisters. Nobody is JUST like you, and no one cares about you as much as your mom, so if this chick is giving you that impression, wake the fuck up. Give and take, reverse. Such is the flow of friendship. When you go out of your way to please me like a mail-order bride on crack, I don't trust you as far as I can throw your ass. Frankly, you scare me. I don't know what you want, or what you hope to take from me, but know this, you are walking away empty-handed. Are you friggin kidding me right now???

Rules for living in my world, part 2: Behavior

Let's stay the course and continue to the second part of the program which will assist you in creating someone that I actually like instead of a person whose head I'd like to smash into the sidewalk,repeatedly and with great force and malice.

Behavior

1.  Feel free to ask for my advice, I've got opinions on almost every topic and would love to share them with you. What will force me to banish you from my kingdom is refusing to heed that advice. I don't mean you have to do exactly as I tell you like a child. I am simply informing you that once I've given the sage wisdom to you, it is yours to utilize to fix your stupid ass problem. If you toss it aside and keep doing what you've already done and failed while doing, don't come back to me repeatedly with the same fucktarded issue and expect that I will generously bestow that advice upon you again and again. Repeat offenders will be bitch-slapped.

2.  I truly don't mind doing someone a favor. If I am able and available to help you out, I'll gladly say yes and lend a hand. Here's where it gets ugly. While I do understand that ifyou need something, there's a time frame expected. But, I have a life and if I am offering to help you, take that into consideration. My schedule is apriority and you will have to fit yourself in accordingly. Don't like it? Ask someone else.

3.  Following that thought, if you need help with something, I'm your person. One thing I require that you keep in mind, is that if you asked for help or guidance, it means you DON'T know how to do it yourself. That being said, it also means you know that I DO know how. This means you must listen to me, not correct me or try to show me a better way, and you have to do it my way. Face it, if you knew how in the first place, you wouldn't be asking me. Don't waste my fucking time.

4.  Let's continue along the same path here and delve into imposing your opinion on me, unsolicited and unwanted. If I wanted your advice, opinion, help, or assistance, I'd have no trouble opening my big mouth and asking for it. I haven't gotten to be this oldand relatively healthy by being a total fucking moron. I've never ridden the short bus, I don't wear head gear, and I am fairly capable of doing basic daily living activities all by myself...like a big girl. 

5.  Don't expect me to read your mind. I don't have a crystal ball, tarot cards are fun but I have no idea how to read them, and I don't live inside your head. Nothing chafes my hide like someone who gets pissed at me for not knowing what they meant after they've failed to communicate it properly to me. Of course, I wouldn't expect you to be at the same level of efficient communication that I possess, that isn't fair to those of you with less than average language skills.  I do expect that you can formulate a clear, concise sentence which lets me know what the fuck is on your mind.

6.  Never, ever talk down to me. This includes talking to me using the assumption that I don't know anything about the topic about which you are speaking. I absolutely loathe being spoken to like I'm brain dead. Allow me to enlighten you on this topic. Nine times out of ten, people I run into are nowhere near as intelligent as I, and while this can be frustrating to me, I am never mean about it. When speaking to me, know this, unless you encounter a blank look that should imply to you that I actually don't understand you or have a clue what you are prattling on about,you can rest assured I know enough about the topic to carry on a normal conversation with you and not require lengthy explanations complete with a Power Point presentation.  Asshat.

7.  Unless I've told you that I just saw a purple alien walking down the street while singing the National Anthem in Spanish, don't doubt me or my words. I have nothing to gain by lying to you nor am I so stupid that I talk out of my ass without knowing the facts. If I am taking time out of my day to actually speak to you and am expending energy to tell you something, take it at face value. Questioning me or attempting to educate me about my own statement is not only annoying as hell, but it makes you look like a complete fucking assclown. Don't embarrass yourself or force me to do it for you, because I will and with great joy.

8.  People who know me, who really know me, know certain details about my life that many do not. This affords them a greater understanding of why I am who I am. This also means theyare aware of my low tolerance for people who come to me and complain about their lives, their minor illnesses, their mothers, and annoying children or spouses. They know that I have zero patience for those who think they can use what they think is a rough childhood as an excuse for being a douchebag today. Now you know, too.Think before you open your mouth, and then swallow a healthy dose of shut the fuck up.

I have neitherthe time nor the patience for people who have no understanding of how to treat people, especially how to treat me. Years ago, people used common courtesy, knew how to be respectful and kind, treated people the way they wanted to be treated themselves, said "please" and "thank you," and could carry on a pleasant conversation with another human being without it turning into a battle for the smartest in the land. There's no battle, it's me. Beyond that, just try to act like a goddamn human being and remember that people have feelings just like you. Ask yourself if you'd want your mother treated that way, and if you can honestly say yes, proceed.  If not, slap your hand over your flapping jaw and cease the fucking inane chatter. Because you know, if you don't, I'd love to do it FOR you. Are you friggin kidding me right now???

Rules for living in my world

Since I bitch, gripe, and grouse about most of you, your behaviors, and modes of dress, I've decided to help you out a smidgen today.  I've compiled a list of basic rules for living in my world and being a part of my life. It's an honor bestowed upon very few, and with good reason. Most of you suck giant, ferocious donkey balls.
Today we will begin with:

Appearance

1. I never want to see your muffin top or back fat.  I have enough of my own dimply areas, I can look at them whenever the mood strikes. Yours are just gross and my eyeballs don't deserve the assault.
2. Peek-a-boo pudendum above your waistband. You know exactly what I am talking about, teenage girls. The concept of hip-huggers is not lost on someone who was born in 1971, I get it.  What I don't get is why YOURS expose the top of your vaginal area forcing you to wax in order to wear them. Wear pants that fit and cover your poonanny. Not all items for sale need to be on display.
3. More of your tits than your husband gets to see on a regular basis.  This means check your cleave before you leave the house. A modest amount of it can be sexy, but when I fear for your ability to take a full breath because your knockers are jammed up under your chin, it ceases to be hot. Bras that fit are way more comfortable and better for your back.  You'll thank me.
4. Glaring headlights because you refuse to wear a bra. Again, I refer to proper support of the front load. We are all getting older, gravity is not your friend. 
5. Ass cleavage. Crack is an illegal drug, not something that should be staring at me during a baseball game, in all its glory, peeking out of some dipshit's ill-fitting jeans.
6. The crease your butt cheeks make when they meet your upper thighs due to your inappropriate donning of Daisy Dukes on a wide load body.  Wear clothes that compliment your shape, not humiliate you, me, and anyone unfortunate enough to witness your Queen of the Trailer Park ensemble.
7. Anyone in running shorts circa 1980.  Dog balls, enough said.
8. Unshaven female armpits.  This is not Europe and I'm fairly certain you don't live on a commune. Besides being completely offensive to look at and totally unattractive on anyone, there is another valid reason to shave.  Female sweat is amazingly more potent and fierce smelling than male sweat.  Don't give it a place to hide and fester by leaving your pit bush unshorn.
9. Unpopped zits with huge, juicy whitish yellow heads. While I know that dermatologists everywhere are shaking their heads at what I am about to say, I seriously don't give a ripe fuck. Squeeze that bad boy until it runs bloody and there is nothing left but a hole. I cannot stand other people's bodily juices, and zit liquid is at the top of that list.
10. Camel toe or moose knuckle. Do I have to explain?

Next time we will explore proper behavior for admittance into my domain. Remember, breaking the rules is taken very seriously and not easily forgiven. If I can take the time to make myself presentable every day, you can, too. There is no excuse for causing me temporary blindness, or making me pray for it. Are you friggin kidding me right now???

The blank stare of the foreign...don't pretend you haven't seen it.

Before you jump ugly with me about the rights of all to be in this country, and how awful I am about to be capping on the foreign people living here, allow me to remind you that my great-grandparents took that long-assed boat ride across the pond from Italy in search of a better life. Not only that, but they made a serious effort to learn the language and customs of the land from where they chose to earn their money and raise their family. Perhaps they settled in an area that was saturated with others of their ethnicity in order to feel at home and comfortable so they could begin the process of assimilation, but who wouldn't? What they didn't do is pretend that they brought the whole fucking country over with them and ignore the fact that they were strangers in a strange land and in order to get along, they had some changes to make.
They didn't ask for street signs to be made in English AND Italian so they could figure out where they were going. Nor did they expect that the DMV would hand them a written test in their language so they didn't have to bother to grasp even the tiniest amount of English to drive here. My Grandma Rose struggled the hardest with English, yet managed to be gainfully employed by the ILGWU for years, shop at local grocery stores using the circulars to find sales, and raise her only son while supporting her husband's dream of opening a hotel. No, she didn't finish school, but she wasn't stupid, nor did she ever once pretend to be in order to get her way or get out of trouble. Not once did I ever witness her pull the blank stare on someone to try to get over on them.  She owned her mistakes and stood up for herself, expressing it in the best English she could.
Fast forward to 2013 and look around you on the streets, in the grocery store, at the bank, or dropping your kids off at school. Take a gander at the foreign folks in your visual range. How many of them are associating with people of cultures other than their own? That's right, hardly any. They choose to keep to their own, speaking their native tongue loudly, making the rest of us feel like they are whispering mean shit about us.  Chances are they are talking shit, but we'll never know. This is the lesson they teach their children, at least part of the lesson.  If we don't fit the profile, we aren't good enough to befriend.  The second part of the lesson would be the part that allows them to act like they don't understand English should they be called out on their fuck ups.  This is true of adults as well as children.

Have you ever been on the bus and gotten cut off for a seat by one of THEM? Try saying something to them. Let them know that it isn't done that way in America and get the fuck out if it doesn't suit you. Wait for the empty stare they bestow upon you. This would be right on the heels of them speaking perfect English to a friend only moments before cutting you off and throwing their ass in the seat you were directly in front of and about to sit in...that's right, ENGLISH.  Don't be fooled by the stare. They all speak it now.  It's not like when Grandma Rose came here from Italy. They speak English in schools back home, when they come here, it's no stretch at all. But when the occasion calls for it, watch the Academy Award-winning acting they are capable of when they pretend that they have absolutely no fucking clue what you are saying.
Children are amazing at this charade. Trust me, it starts so early, you'd piss your pants if you had the chance to witness it in person. I am lucky enough to be able to see that blank look on a daily basis. As teachers, we are supposed to help those for whom English is not their first language. When it is a genuine issue, we have no trouble at all guiding them onto the path of using the correct words. So many have come through, right off the boat, desperate to be able to communicate in their new home. My heart goes out to them, I can't imagine what it would be like to be listening to what amounted to babble in my ears and try to attend school and actually learn something. These are the children whose parents actually want to learn English, as well, or who do know it but are retaining the native language at home.
Now picture the child that you KNOW speaks better English than you do deciding to do something horrific. You speak to them about it and direct them as to how to correct the problem, and all you get back is a face like a fucking brick wall. Now, I'd egg you on and tell you to remind them that you know for certain that they understand you and should probably respond. The look actually becomes even more VACUOUS! You can't kill them, what the hell are you supposed to do? Parents of these children encourage this shit, who do you think they learned it from in the first place? Telling them would be an exercise in futility. But it doesn't stop at one, nosiree. They are coming over by the boat load, many of whom have no intention of planting roots here in the US. Most will freely tell you that they are only here to make money and take advantage of American schools before heading back to the motherland to live like royalty. On my goddamn dime.
While I don't advocate moving to a country to drain it dry and go back home, I have no issue with people coming here from other countries to make a better life for themselves and their families. But whichever category you fit into, know this, you must show respect for the place in which you now live.  Not only the place, but its natives as well. We were here first and would gladly welcome you with open arms if you didn't act like such an entitled douchebag. The USA doesn't owe you anything, certainly not a translation of everything written in English. That happens to be the language of the country you chose to infiltrate, use, and abuse...consider learning it. While you're at it, if you do know the language, use it.  Use it daily and with great gusto.  I don't want to walk into a place and feel like I'm surrounded by a clique of mean girls. Remember, if I've heard you speaking English, I expect you to do it in my presence and when spoken to by me. Wonder why you feel like we are prejudiced against you? Maybe it's the fucking blank stare. Are you friggin kidding me right now???