Your holier than thou posts do NOT negate your slutty behavior in high school

Let me start by saying that you all know who you are, I don't need to call you each by name. Lately, I've become nauseated daily by the flood of religious, inspirational, and right-wing posts on Facebook and Twitter. You'd honestly think these people had just done jail time based on the way they've all suddenly "found" God. May I remind you all that this is a social media site, not Beliefnet.com or BibleBelt.net? If I wanted to read bible verses, I'd actually pick up one of the bibles in my house and read it. Yet, scrolling down my feed, I am seeing posts from people who couldn't remember the Preamble to the Constitution for school, who can now quote everything that Jesus and the bible boys have ever said. Total dumb shits who now fancy themselves deep thinkers, are copy and pasting inspirational photos and quotes from sappy websites. And quite possibly the best ones, are the folks posting all the right-wing, anti-abortion, right-to-life, God Hates Fags, Marriage is Sacred bullshit multiple times per day. Those are usually the filthiest whores, even to this day.
Beginning with the Bible quoters, I have to laugh because I went to school with these people, Catholic school. I happen to know first-hand that they knew absolutely nothing about the teachings of the Bible back then and had no interest in learning.  They were in a Catholic school because that is where their parents chose to send them, not because they were dying to be immersed in a world saturated with religiosity. Nothing could be further from the truth.  These kids cursed like drunken sailors, cut class, smoked, drank, did drugs, and were having sex outside of marriage. The ones who by all appearances are holy rollers today, were the ones sitting in the back of religion class, passing notes, planning drunken parties, and laughing at the teacher. Now, they act like Sunday school teachers online. Throwing stones at everyone who doesn't believe what they do, and hoping we've all forgotten how they acted 25 years ago. I haven't.

The deep thinkers really crack me up. Not to be mean, but why stop now, most of these brain surgeons were not the brightest crayons in the box. Hell, I'll go one step further, kiss my own ass, and make it more clear for you. None of them were in any of MY classes. I went there, yes, I did. These were not honor students back in the day, but now they'd like the world to believe that they are intellectual philosophers, bestowing great knowledge upon the little people. The fact that grade-schoolers can look up the same quotes online, probably faster, doesn't bode well for your quest to impress. Sadly, we all know you aren't THAT bright, and when you don't even credit the person whose words you are poaching, we know that, too. It's bad enough when you constantly share these self-help messages, complete with the photo of the lone wolf or soaring eagle. I may just throw up a little in my mouth, no big deal. But when you have the balls to retype it into your status and claim it as your own, like you've had this huge enlightened moment and desperately needed to share it with all the sad sacks in your life...because you are so caring and thoughtful...you force me to start sharpening my shiv in preparation for the next time we happen to meet.

Moving forward to the most pathetic of all these losers, the former hoes. Maybe they aren't aware, but we all knew who they were in school. Their reputations preceded them and the fact that they flaunted it didn't help.  Anyone who had at least one male friend was privy to the skinny about what was really going down...and WHO was going down on WHOM. I don't mean the gossip mill bullshit, I mean the one-to-one conversations between friends that weren't meant to go any further than White Castles. Catholic schools are famous for the rapid spread of information, accurate or not. But they were also famous for creating a family-like atmosphere that encouraged genuine friendships and shared information, that actually was accurate. Perhaps borne out of a desire to protect each other from the evils of the "others" or maybe it was just a way to convey basic details to keep friends in the loop about the happenings in the hallways.  Either way, we KNEW.

Pretending now, that you are practically celibate kills me. You are only making a complete and total fool out of yourself. Especially those of you who got yourselves into a little bit of "trouble" in high school and took care of it. Posting sentiments such as "Abortion stops a beating heart" and letting us know that even if a woman is raped, she really should carry that baby to term, make you a total fucking hypocrite. You will not change the past by spouting bleeding heart shit today. What's done is done, and while I am not judging your teenage actions, I am pissed that you have the balls to judge the current actions of teenagers and grown ass women today. How dare you stand in judgment of others knowing that you are guilty of the very same crimes? Since you want to pretend you are Sister Mary Pure as the Driven Snow, allow me to quote for you, " He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her." Sound familiar, or did you sleep through that class, whore?
We all are aware of our own mistakes, and we all know that people can change. However, just because you think you are a better person today, and you may genuinely be, it doesn't give you carte blanche to rip others a new asshole for the decisions they make today. And I can with all confidence tell you that if you were dim bulb back in high school, you haven't miraculously become a Mensa member 25 years later. Unless you 've spent that quarter of a century retaking all those classes you slept through or cut, you are in all likelihood the same window licker you were then. Plagiarizing the wisdom of another doesn't make you smart, it makes you a thief. If Facebook was a university, you'd have been expelled by now. If you want to create a whole new persona, an updated and improved identity, that's great. Don't do it on a forum that houses everyone who knew you when you were a dumb, filthy whore. We WILL laugh at you, perhaps even publicly. Are you friggin kidding me right now???

Double check your work before you permanently express yourself

With the stigma slowly being removed from piercings and tattoos, we are seeing a tremendous amount of them cropping up on all ages, sizes, sexes, and races. Honestly, I love it. I've never understood all the negativity towards ink and piercings. Loudly voicing judgments about someone else's skin without really understanding, you sound very ignorant. Not every person with a sleeve is a biker, and not every person with facial piercings is Goth or Punk. Yet, even today in 2012, I overhear snide comments from assholes with very definite opinions about that which they do NOT know. If you don't have the balls to get inked or think it's gross, that's fine. I'm not judging you.  Don't judge me because I love it.  The thought of needles scares the shit out of some folks, I respect that. My child doesn't share that fear and has both her nose and belly button pierced. Please show her the same courtesy you'd show any other well-behaved teenager, her piercings don't make her wild or disrespectful.
So, while I support of those of us who enjoy this form of self-expression, I venture into the realm of this topic very carefully. How many actually think, research, carefully consider, weigh options, and really take the time to be absolutely sure that this particular body modification is what you truly want. I'm not necessarily talking about remorse, but that does happen. What I am referring to is blatant errors in judgement, facts, spelling, positioning, and for whom you are doing it. That's a lot of mistakes, so let's take them one at a time, shall we? Starting with judgement, think about the line of work you are in, where you live, and how old you are before you consider doing this to yourself. No matter how far we've come, there are those that continue to set us back decades. There are still people in this world who would run screaming from the exam room if their doctor walked in with a giant septum piercing. Because somehow having a ring in his nose makes his license to practice medicine null and void.
Next, let's consider a very serious factor. For WHOM are you getting this modification? You are the one who has to live the rest of your life with the result. Getting your tongue pierced to give a better blow job is probably the most fucktarded reason I have ever heard, yet there are dumb ass whores out there who do it for that exact purpose. Guess what, skank? You were born with the one thing necessary to perfom that function, and the fact that you have no problem using it on tons of guys without discretion is bad enough. It isn't necessary to drive a stake through your tongue to perfect your craft, guys don't care about the how...they are only interested in your willingness to do it. Since you've got that covered, risking infection and broken teeth isn't worth the money spent on the piercing, much less the pain you'll encounter having it done.
Still on that line of thought, getting a tattoo of someone's name or face had better be very carefully thought out if you don't want to have to be re-inked over that spot 3 years or less later. If you want your late mom's face on your bicep, have at it. Your mom will ALWAYS be your mom, in life and after death. That fact doesn't change. Get your child's name emblazoned across your chest if you'd like. Same rules apply here, your child is forever your child, even after they grow up and have a family of their own. Think really long and hard before you slap your boyfriend's or girlfriend's name on any part of your body. Not trying to detract from your individual concept of love and romance, I'm attempting to inject a dose of reality into your world. Statistically speaking, a great portion of relationships don't last. The last thing you need is a permanent reminder of your grotesque error in romantic judgment. The name that made you smile and sigh yesterday, may cause you to projectile vomit tomorrow. Use your brain!

Get your facts straight! If you want to commemorate a moment in history, please do the research before having it injected into your skin. Should you think Chinese characters are quite lovely, and they are, be sure to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that you are, indeed, getting the one that means LIFE and not the one that means BUTTHOLE. Don't just look it up, ask around. Head into the nearest Chinatown, whatever it takes. Looking to quote someone famous? Fantastic!  Having a hero or someone who speaks what is on your mind so beautifully is wonderful. Inking that phrase on your body is a great way to remind you of something that keeps you strong or makes you happy. Be sure it is accurate and you've got it verbatim in black and white on paper before you bop on over to your favorite tattoo artist. Then be sure to visually inspect the transfer BEFORE the first needle touches your flesh. Nothing says idiot quite like being a walking billboard of a fucking misquote.
Next, I beg you to consider this before you make the decision to be tattooed. Will I still like it 25 years from now? Will it remain relevant to me after this year? Do I truly like this design, word, phrase, face? Personally, I don't really care if you have eternal regrets.  Here's the thing, aside from the fact that you will eventually have some serious-ass remorse if you actually tattoo "Gangnam Style" on your neck, but you will subject yourself to more ridicule than your inner child can handle. Recently, I saw some fucking doozy tattoos on two different people. One was in Chico, and the guy was standing in front of a tattoo parlor, covered in ink, no shock. But he had an entire FACE tattooed on each of his cheeks. Seriously, even if you want to memorialize someone by having their image inked onto your skin, and I do respect that decision, never, ever put it on your own face! Unless he was letting us into the scary recesses of his mind and we were getting a glimpse into his multiple personality disorder, there is never a reason to put faces on your face. You do have arms, don't you?  My favorite fuck up has to be someone I just saw this past weekend. Mr. Anti-Everything Society Has Ever Deemed Acceptable was in Nation's with his equally angry girlfriend. She was dressed in raggedy black clothing, with a lovely sentiment emblazoned across the back of her sweatshirt.  It said, "EAT, FUCK, KILL" but that was nowhere near as hysterical as what was tattooed on her boyfriend's arm. In the fanciest upper case lettering you can imagine, Douche McBaggus had FUCKTARD tattooed across his gangly upper arm. How attractive.  After laughing myself to tears, I had to wonder, was he referring to himself? In my mind that was the only logical reason for having that permanently injected into his skin for public display.
And so, I must remind you to take a considerable amount of time and effort thinking about, researching, and contemplating the long-term satisfaction of any kind of body modification procedure. While it is becoming pretty mainstream and much more widely accepted, you still should keep certain things in mind. Like, do I live in an area that is fairly liberal and accepting of individuality? Do I have a job that allows such things? Am I doing this on a whim and will I regret this in the morning after the alcohol wears off? How much do I love this person, enough to have their name permanently on my ass cheek? After removing this gigantic piercing 20 years from now when I am too old to walk into bingo sporting a lip piercing, will the resulting stretched out hole in my dry, papery skin be okay with me or will I need to seek out a plastic surgeon to make me look normal again? This last point, I must simply drive it home like a dagger in your eyeball, do NOT get curse words tattooed anywhere on your body, especially the kind that do double duty as insults. Think before you ink!!! I always do. Are you friggin kidding me right now???

Plastic surgery, how much is too much?

None of us is getting any younger. The sooner we accept it, the better off we'll all be. With age comes a variety of bodily changes, and they are all just fine, no need to become concerned. Everyone does it, yet some can't wrap their heads around the process as it applies to them. So, they start picking themselves apart, wrinkle by wrinkle, sag after sag. What purpose does this serve?  All it has the potential to do is create drama where it's unnecessary and cause depression and frustration. Totally worth it. And the worst part is, we don't even take a moment to notice who else is being affected by our own negative self-opinions. Today's youth are watching us and taking notes. We are sending a horrific message to them. Getting old is bad and you are never good enough. Face it, it's not just those of us racing against time who are going under the knife. Teenagers are having plastic surgery these days and they aren't even finished maturing into what they'll look like as adults. Having no clue what that means, they are researching plastic surgeons and asking for boobs and new noses for Christmas.
Moving from youngest to oldest, can someone please explain to me why a 14 year old NEEDS liposuction? Can't they just be more active? Being the ones having the highest metabolisms among all human Earth dwellers, I'm fairly certain it wouldn't take much to shave off the few pounds that are tweaking them. My mom would stop buying cookies and ice cream when she thought we could all use a slim down, and being none the wiser, all I'd notice was that my clothes fit better. But it isn't just weight, because teens have already discovered the beauty of eating disorders and use them to be skinnier than their friends.They are looking at their noses, their asses, and their ta-tas. Unless you are a Jewish Iranian Sicilian, your nose is probably a load nicer than you perceive it to be. Look at your mom, she's beautiful, isn't she? She's your peek into the future. Is your nose as offensive to you now?
Bigger asses and bigger boobs. Retail manufacturers make butt pads and bra enhancers for the ultra vain customer. Here's the facts as I see them. You are either born with booty or you've eaten your way to booty, but you can't water it and hope it'll grow. We are either genetically predisposed to a bubble butt or we're not. Many white chicks have flat asses. Why do you think Abercrombie and Fitch and Hollister are making a fortune selling those goddamn jeans that only fit white teenagers? Cut with 12 year old boys in mind, they wouldn't fit over my ass if I used a high-powered winch to yank them up. Rewinding the tape back to the fact that you want to be as thin as a fucking rail, realize that having no ass is part of the package. Asking a doctor to implant a little ghetto into your pancake ass after you've vomited it away is totally fucktarded.
Fast forward to boobies. So many still-developing teens are watching TV and movies and seeing actresses who have been surgically altered to look like human Barbie dolls. Wanting desperately to look like their screen idols, they beg their parents for boob jobs instead of clothing or jewelry for Christmas or their birthdays. Boobs continue to grow throughout the teen years if you are blessed to have females in your family with major league yabbos. Even if the women in your lineage have average cans, they'll grow a little bit and fill out to their predestined capacity during this time. Let's not even go that far into the future and mention pregnancy and its affect on the ladies in your shirt. Risking your life, because any surgery comes with the risk of death, for a set of sweater puppets is incredibly moronic. Women and girls with huge boobs will tell you, they aren't all they are cracked up to be. Try buying cute tops in the summer that don't make you look like a prostitute with overflowing jugs. Not happening.
Learning to age gracefully is almost impossible in our society. The wisdom of our elders is not respected anymore, old people are seen as feeble and helpless. They are also seen as unattractive. Nobody wants to have gray hair, wrinkles, thinner skin, sagging anything. Grays used to be considered dignified and gave people credibility that younger folks hadn't earned yet. Wrinkles were seen as a result of a life fully lived, laughter and tears that left their permanent marks on one's face. Now that is far from the case. We are appalled at a woman who hasn't touched up her roots and covered those god-awful grays. We spend inordinate amounts of money on creams and serums to smooth out those fine lines that reflect our memories. God forbid anyone sees that papery skin pop up on the back of their hands! Quick, call the salon and book a paraffin manicure, now!!!
The truth be told, I am not in love with the wrinkles or the papery skin I'm noticing on my once youthful body. I've purchased the creams and serums and diligently applied them until I got bored or too cheap to continue the charade. I say charade because I am well-aware of how old I am and actually accept most of it with some semblance of grace. But I have seen women my age and older who can't seem to travel as maturely as I into middle age and beyond.  They have sought out professionals, doctors, aestheticians, and anyone who promises to dip them into the fountain of youth. Never satisfied, and why does this surprise me since they don't like the way they look to begin with, they have multiple surgeries and procedures to attempt to recover their lost beauty.

A nip here, a tuck there, it's only the beginning. If it ended with an eye lift, I don't think this would be a topic today. But it doesn't end there. After the eye life, comes the face lift, the brow lift, the nose sculpting, the cheek implants, the jaw reconstruction or implants, the neck lift, the collagen implants to puff up their lips like fucking off-kilter balloons, botox to rid any remnant wrinkles, liposuction, tummy tucks, ass lifts, boob lifts, lasers to eradicate spider veins, dermabrasions, and the list goes on and on. There are more procedures than I have the patience to type right now. What these dumb fucks don't realize is that these surgeries, procedures, needles filled with poison, fuck all, are not making them more attractive. They are creating freakish looking monsters that scare small children. When you can't move your eyebrows to show any expression beyond shock, that's not pretty. If you can't crack a smile because your face is pulled back behind your head, you are no beauty queen, sister.

The problem is, no matter how great or expensive your plastic surgeon is, most fake things are recognizable as fake. Most 55-60 year old women have wrinkles, a little sag around the jawline, and a bit of turkey neck. It's ok, really. So when you see one whose face looks so tight you can bounce a quarter off her cheek, you know without a doubt she's be nipped and tucked to within an inch of her life. Just like when you see someone with 44EEE's and they are standing at attention, defying all the laws of gravity as you've learned them, you can confidently yell out, "That bitch has bolt-ons!" and be totally correct. Fake is fake and it's hard to disguise it. The other thing fake is...it's ugly as day-old shit. Looking like human caricature of yourself is not beautiful, it's frightening. You can't say that you look in the mirror after having your face stretched and implanted and yanked to and fro, and actually like what you see.  Then you aren't only butt ugly, you're a liar, too.

Ladies, and I'm addressing you specifically, stop the goddamn madness! Quit putting so much emphasis on your looks and start working on what's inside. Fix your wretched personalities, learn how to treat others with respect, value the wisdom of your elders, and support and encourage our teenage girls to be the best THEM they can be and that beauty lies within not across their chests. The rise of superficiality is the downfall of our society, placing more value on outward appearances than kindness for our fellow man. We can end this bullshit if we just take a moment and really look at ourselves, I mean really look. Is what you see THAT bad? Or can you see your mom's smile across your face as you get older? Are those your dad's wrinkles next to your eyes when you laugh? You wouldn't dream of calling your parents ugly, their love for you shone through their eyes every time they looked at you. That's what beauty looks like. It doesn't require anesthesia and a scalpel.  Are you friggin kidding me right now???

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Crotch fro is a no-go, but can manscaping go too far?

There needs to be a happy medium. Far too often I am seeing men with eyebrows way more sculpted than mine. The skin is so shiny it looks as though it's just been waxed 45 minutes ago, although that could just be the man cream they are using for moist, dewy skin. Once again, more so than mine. This is not to say I approve the horrific unibrow or enormous bushy eyebrows that make your forehead look like a ferret graveyard. I have no problem with you taking a wax strip and placing it between your eyes and ripping that fur clear off your face so that you, too, can have two eyebrows like nature intended. I also would not bat an eye if you wanted to trim those wild, foot-long strands to create neatly groomed eye framing brows.

Moderation is key here. Neat, not sculpted. For those of you who watch Jersey Shore, you know exactly the kind of brows I am referring to...think Pauly D. There are women who would kill to have eyebrows as neatly groomed as the boys on that show. I know I'd cut a bitch for Vinny's brows. But that shouldn't BE!
Moisturizing is important for all members of the species. I understand that. Tight, dry skin is uncomfortable and looks disgusting. I understand better than most because I have very dry skin. If I don't slather it on, my legs are as ashy as elephant skin. But, guys, why do you have more products in your medicine cabinet than I? Men as young as in their 20s are taking better care of their skin than middle aged women. Is this some sort of plot to make us look bad? To kick us in the self-esteem? I've always boasted about my low-maintenance beauty routines, taking great pride in looking quite nice without needing to open a vein to pay for all the expensive products most women my age are purchasing in vast quantities. Once in a great while I'll break down and buy some new-fangled, pricey eye cream or something in the hopes that it will make me look younger. In general, cocoa butter lotion and the yummy-smelling ones from Bath and Body Works have always worked just fine. Guys, listen, we don't want you looking like day-old ass, but you don't need to take 30 minutes longer than us in order to be presentable enough to leave the house. It's just WRONG.
The same rules apply for hair care. Men do NOT need to use enough product to shellac a dining room table and chairs. A little gel, a dab of curl cream, even a shot of hair spray is fine. Even though I prefer mens' hair to be au naturel, there's something to be said about looking "done" when you have somewhere nice to go. Most of the time, however, wash and go is the look you should be aiming for when it comes to hair styling. The concept of metrosexuality actually makes me shake my head, baffled by the whole mishegoss. Why would a man want to look and smell like a woman? Unless you are a transsexual, transgendered, or a cross dresser, you have absolutely no reason to use globs of my curly pudding in your 'do. Seeing shiny, lacquered hair that looks like it can withstand a hurricane on a man is simply put, GROSS. No woman wants to get her hand lodged in your mousse laden hair. It's a fucking deal-breaker.

I think things really started to go downhill with the invention of the AXE body spray line of products. Teenage boys were given the impression that if they sprayed this shit from head to toe, girls would be falling all over themselves to fuck them. The commercials were directed at college aged dudes, but the high schoolers and even some middle school douche bags were paying very close attention. About that time, the assault on the senses began in the form of cheap cologne chemical warfare. All males under the age of 25 were drowning themselves in this vile crap. Clouds of AXE were wafting through the atmosphere in such huge amounts, I am shocked at the lack of CDC involvement. We all know how I feel about cheap drugstore perfumes, and this product falls about 56 steps below them in quality and scent. Mother of Mercy, I was looking for sewers to dive into just to escape the overpowering variety of AXE smells I'd encounter in stores and on the streets. Nobody should take a whore's bath, but guys, in particular, should avoid it like the fucking plague.
Dress like a dude, please.  I hate seeing men in those jeans that were clearly meant for women, but designers who felt the need to cater to the European trash tendencies of American men these days manufactured them in larger sizes to accommodate them. Seriously, when you have rhinestones on your ass and balls between your legs, you've made a grotesque fashion error in judgement. I'm not crazy about the whole rhinestone bejeweled jeans trend anyway, but on a man it is the epitome of tacky. Guidos think they look manly and hot in them, little do they know we are laughing our asses off at how feminine they appear. Mens' capris should only be worn across the pond. Here, they look ri-goddamn-diculous. Women wear capris, men wear shorts. The sooner you accept it, the better off we'll all be in the long run. I've accepted men in flip flops, and this was huge for me. Growing up on the Right Coast, I never saw men in flip flops except at the beach or the pool. But don't push your luck and pair them with a pair of bejazzled pants or brightly colored capris.  My filter is only so strong.
Switching gears, crotch fro is a big, huge NO-NO! This is not 1971, we are not sporting gigantic bell-bottom jeans, cordouroy vests, and patchwork platform shoes. We are also not letting our pubic area run buck wild anymore. It is no longer acceptable for a woman OR man to rock the bodacious bush on the land down under. Choose your own personal variation on the theme of nether-region grooming. Whether you opt for a landing strip, a Brazilian, a neatly trimmed and edged triangle, a Bro-zilian if you are a dude, or bare-assed, do some-fucking-thing. There is nothing attractive about having as much hair in your underwear as you do on your head. You look absolutely unkempt and nasty. Yes, I have to go there...anywhere you have hair in a cramped and folded space on the body, you are trapping sweat. Need I put a finer point on it or can you let your imagination run away with you for a moment? Exactly.
What have we learned today? The old saying "less is more" is really applicable here. Less hair products, less lotion application, less cheap cologne, less decorative clothing, less eyebrow modification, and less crotch fro. Simple, really, yet many of you haven't gotten the hang of it. Opting for the 80s mantra of "more is more" and driven to excess in all forms, men will continue to be hopeless metrosexuals who eventually will morph into very unattractive women. Let me assure you, guys, what you will stand to gain from this approach is far LESS poontang and a lot more lonely nights. We want our men to look and smell like men, not bigger and taller versions of us. Are you friggin kidding me right now???

I have had about all I can stand of your fucking whining

Holy fucking Christ on the cross!  Is it me or has everyone fallen into two distinct categories as the holidays approach? One, my personal favorite, is the "my life is absolute perfection and I NEED to tell you all about it complete with accompanying photos" category. The other, which seems to have surfaced right around Thanksgiving, a time when you are supposed to be remembering why you should be grateful for what you do have, is the "my life is so fucking difficult, allow me to bitch and moan incessantly on social media to you" category. While I abhor the show-offs, at least I know that they are full of shit and compensating for what they lack by playing up what little they do have. Usually, it revolves around things and not what's really important, like family and good friends. I can almost feel sorry for them, then I remember how annoying they are and I revert back to my disgust for them and feel better about myself.
The second category has really started to chafe my hide. After stuffing themselves with vast amounts of turkey, stuffing, yams, and enough pie to feed a small army, joined by family and friends, these fuckers are complaining about everything! To be fair, they have been for a while, but it has intensified in the past week. The holidays do bring out the Scrooge in many, but usually even those asswads soften up after spending time with people they love and eating like a hippo who just smoked a bowl. Not so in 2012!!!  What I am witnessing is the biggest bunch of ingrates I have ever encountered in my 41 years of life. People with families, jobs, a roof over their heads, and food in their rounded bellies. It's enough to make me toss my goddamn cookies in their cornflakes.

If you and/or your spouse have jobs that paid for the food you just shoveled down your maw this Thanksgiving, and yet you bitch about how much you ate and how fat you feel, you are a piece of shit. Do you have any idea how many people are out of work this year? Have you watched the news in the past fucking month? The mere fact that you have so much food in your house that you can feel like an elephant today tells me you are pretty goddamn lucky and should be thanking the baby Jesus for your good fortune. The black sweatpants I am sporting today are proof positive that I am fortunate enough to be employed as is my husband. And the fact that I feel like a moose has taken up residence in my gut further proves that I have more than enough to eat. Not everyone does.
Everyday, I see more and more posts bemoaning the fact that you have to go to work today, tomorrow, next Tuesday, whatever.  Really? Should I cry for you now or next Tuesday? Poor you, having to wake up in the morning before heading to your place of employment that pays your fucking bills and keeps you from being homeless. Be thankful not only for having that job but for the physical ability TO work. There are very sick people out there who would love the opportunity to get out of bed and be productive five days per week. Yet, there you are, day in and day out, whining about how early you have to wake up, how cozy your bed is, how your boss sucks ass, on and on. I'm assuming you'd prefer round after round of chemo that leaves you physically sick and completely exhausted and unable to do much of anything BUT stay in that cozy-assed bed of yours that you love so much.

Tell us more about what pains in the asses your kids are, please. How god-awful they behave and how you can't stand having them home during holidays, winter break, summer break, President's Day. Incessant bitching about how you don't get a moment's peace and how they are fighting and giving you a headache. Add to that the fact that they actually want your attention and are looking to you for some form of activity, and this sets you off on a litany of complaints of how your day is ruined, your routine is shot to shit, and you can't do what you want. First, you wanted these kids. You gave birth to them, they are now your responsibility, deal with it. Secondly, and probably more important, are you aware of how many people cannot have children and would kill to have your problems? Are you so selfish that you can't give yourself to your own flesh and blood? Let me drive the point home a little deeper. Do you know how many people have lost their children tragically and would give their kidneys to hear them fighting and slamming doors and saying that they are bored? My own uncle lost his 18 year old daughter in a horrific alcohol-related car accident back when I was twelve. Trust me, he'd still rip his own heart out to have her back. You truly make me sick to my stomach!
One more thing.  Recently, I have seen far too many of you complaining about your parents and I can't keep quiet about it anymore. Never have I seen so many people so easily angered by the people who sacrificed their whole lives for them. The levels of frustration are through the roof and I have no idea what has come over you assholes. Is it too much to ask that you visit them once in a while? Beyond the obligatory holiday functions? Does is physically hurt you to call as often as they ask you to? Does the fact that your dad does nothing but reminisce when he talks to you really make your ears bleed? Can't you join him in his walks down memory lane? Maybe the times when you were a child are among the happiest in his life and he likes reliving them with you. Did you consider that as you were posting about his senility? And is it so difficult for you to take your mom shopping? How many times did she take you shopping when you were young? How many stores did she stop in to look for those fucking Jordache jeans you HAD to have? Short memory? If my mom was still alive I'd take her shopping to every store on the West Coast if she asked even if it took me a week's worth of driving. And, guess what?  I wouldn't utter a single word of complaint about it. I'd offer to take her to more stores instead. Why? Because I'd give anything to have her around and make her smile one more time. Some of you are so easy to hate.
In summation, here's the takeaway from my ranting and raving in your grill. STOP ALL THE FUCKING COMPLAINING! Take a good hard look around you and really see what is right under your nose. Most people have pretty amazing lives and are so busy whining, they don't even notice it...forget about being appreciative for it. If you have a partner, children, a home, a job, and living parents, do the rest of us a favor, and shut the fuck up already. You presently have far more than many folks out there who wouldn't utter a word of complaint if you pointed a gun at their heads. They know how to be grateful for what they have, especially when it is so little. They take nothing for granted and live their lives everyday as though they've been given a precious gift. Can you say the same? Not from what I've been seeing and hearing. Are you friggin kidding me right now???

What am I thankful for this year, unabridged and unedited.

Where do I begin? I am eternally grateful for the ugly-assed hags posting closeup photos of their wrinkly faces to remind me of how much younger I look. Many mornings I look in the mirror while brushing my teeth and wonder who the old broad is glaring back at me. Then I start to pick myself apart, inch by inch, until I've sufficiently depressed myself and begun craving something "special" in my morning coffee. Luckily, every day, like clockwork, there is always someone who feels the need to take yet another self-portrait and share it throughout the land. As I scroll through my feed, I have the giddy pleasure of being startled by a face that looks 20 years older than mine and definitely uglier. At that moment, I am lifted out of my funk, and can go about my day knowing that I look fucking good!
As an adult who is years beyond giving birth ever again, I am appreciative of the fact that I no longer have to deal with a screaming snot rocket in public and subject myself to the glares of the so-called professional parenting experts when I drag her ass back out of the store, kicking and screaming. Yes, I was that mom. You can throw yourself on the floor at home, but in public you will behave like a fucking human or you will lose the right to be outside the house. I can now watch and laugh at the struggling stay-at-home moms who have nothing else to do BUT teach their kids how to behave appropriately, floundering and reasoning with their toddlers on an adult level above what even she truly understands. I can shake my head, point, snicker. It's my turn to be the opinionated fucker, tsk tsking in the store. Hell, I am trying to shop. Grab hold of that little shit and throw him in the cart. He doesn't belong underfoot, especially not my foot. Praise the baby Jesus and thank God that my child is seventeen already.
Thank the Lord I went to high school in the 80s, when my biggest worry was making sure I had a full can of Aqua Net in my purse and extra cash to buy candy to eat in class. I am beholden to my parents for having me in 1971 so that I could experience high school during the "ME" decade and become a slave to the oddball fashion of the time. How many others can say that they got to wear neon pink sweaters and 30 black rubber bracelets on each wrist, while wearing enough hairspray to affix a small child to a wall, and two pair of scrunchie socks over their tights? Now ask how many could say they wore it to school? Our uniform was from the waist down and we had a dress code from the waist up. I could rock the day glo one day, and the layered shirts the next. Wrapping a big twisted scarf around my nappy hair a la Madonna in her Dress You Up video, and rocking the black eyeliner like it was applied with a giant crayon, I wore my uniform skirt and went to school. I couldn't have done that if I was in high school now. I don't have the flat ass to wear the narrow jeans they sell at Hollister so I'd be screwed.

Another shout out to my parents for raising me in Queens, NY. For so many reasons, but I'll just discuss a few. I ate salads with dressings other than Ranch. Thousand Island, Catalina French, Italian, Coleslaw, or just oil and vinegar, I had options! Because that white shit was not a staple in my home, I also learned to eat vegetables without having to dunk them into a vat of it. I actually knew what broccoli tasted like and enjoyed it in all its natural glory. Fortunately for me, growing up in NY, I also know what good pizza tastes like and had the opportunity to enjoy vast quantities of it before moving out here to shitty pizza land. My palate wasn't tainted by pizza covered in crap like pineapples and Canadian bacon. Nor did I ever touch a slice that had cheddar fucking cheese mixed in with my sacred mozzarella. Who does this?  What fucktard came up with that idea? Probably the same person who came up with nasty bagels they make out here and try to pass off as NY bagels. Give me a fucking break, that oddly chewy tiny little bready and flavorless rounded item is most decidedly NOT a NY bagel nor could it ever pass for one.
I am indebted to my mother for allowing to me eat like a person, not a bird. Never the girl who just orders a salad when out with others, I am able to embrace my curvy self without guilt. Unlike some women, I don't have to pretend to be a light eater, I can eat like a lumberjack happily and with great gusto. For this reason, I am not obsessed with size or shape and have not passed this disease on to my daughter. She is a curvy girl and looks absolutely gorgeous. When I see the girls she goes to school with, I am forced to ask her if they ever eat. I see a generation of girls with such poor body image that they've resorted to all forms of eating disorders and drugs to maintain what they believe is attractive. What they look is like emaciated girls or ten year old boys. Unhealthy mentally and physically, they have a long and painful road ahead of them. Thank all the bible boys, my daughter won't have to deal with that shit. She eats like a person, not a hummingbird. God bless her appetite, my great-grandma Rose would shed a tear of pride watching her eat.
Give praise to Mary, mother of Jesus, I am able to go to work every day instead of sitting home watching the four walls. Not only is it financially smarter to go to work once your children are old enough to be in school full-time, but it is intellectually healthier for you to be out in the world among other adults contributing positively to society. Not having enough time to keep the house as neat and clean as I'd like is a thorn in my side, believe me. That is why I take advantage of any time off I have to go on psychotic cleaning sprees, attacking an area of the house at a time. Staying at home while your children are young is the optimum situation for their growth and emotional health. You are their primary teacher and it is a job you had better fucking take seriously. Taking them to the park or somewhere they can learn to socialize is crucial, do not keep them holed up in the house so you can watch your fucking soaps all day long. And is the television and the internet so important to you that you can't get your household chores done AND raise your children? I can tell you that I can get done what most of you whine about having to do with hours and hours to do it, in a third of the time you are allotted on any given day. Lazy ass bitches give the rest of us a bad name. And for not being one of them, I am forever obliged.
Praise the Lord and pass the biscuits, I married for love. Hard to imagine in this day and age, but we did it, and contrary to the current marriage statistics, are still married twenty years later. Waiting until getting older and set in your ways doesn't work for everyone. Plus, face it, older is not always attractive on all people. Then you have to have something else to bring to the table, and many of you fake it. Faking interests, faking importance, faking life experiences, faking monetary worth, all in the name of snagging a partner because your biological clock is ticking or the need to couple has become so great and your prospects are slim and none. I didn't have to pretend to have the same hobbies or like the same music. Nor did I have to learn to do something that scared the shit out of me or bored me to tears just to impress someone. Nope. I could just be me, and me was enough. We just truly enjoyed each other's company and were friends first. People today forget the friendship part. The basis of any good relationship is taking the time to be friends first. If you get along well enough to hang out with this person all day long and still want to talk to them on the phone that night, chances are you've formed that foundation already. Without taking skydiving lessons and line-dancing even though you hate country music. Imagine that?
What else brings me a sense of gratification? The fact that I am educated and extremely intelligent. Yes, I just kissed my own ass, you don't have to bring it to my attention. While I can accept that many of you are not at my level, and respect everyone's individuality, I cannot stomach full-on stupid. Not necessarily book-stupid, even a severe lack of common sense can send me into a tailspin. There is no excuse for ignorance. As adults, we all have the responsibility of taking care of ourselves and at times, others. This requires a certain amount of common sense. Part of common sense is knowing what you don't know. Meaning, don't try to talk about things about which you haven't a clue. All you are doing is making a gigantic ass out of yourself and annoying the living shit out of everyone around you. Have the decency to know when to shut your fucking piehole, especially when you don't know a thing about the topic. Part of being intelligent is knowing what you don't know and either accepting it and asking those who DO know or...taking an interest in the topic and making an effort to learn about it before engaging in conversation about said topic. I will be the first to admit when I don't know something, bless my big brain and the common sense it is filled with that allows me to do that.
It is with gratitude that I celebrate my ability to express myself clearly and succinctly. I do not espouse euphemisms to tell you that someone is crippled or blind, I just call it like I see it. The lady on the corner is Oriental, not Asian. She is not Armenian or Iraqi, why would I call her Asian? If I catch someone jerking off, then I will tell them to stop jerking off in my presence, not refer to their monkey getting spanked. Dead is dead, your Grandma is not sleeping with Jesus. So when I inform you about someone taking their last breath, I won't refer to them as buying the farm, unless of course they did buy one right before they DIED. My love of all curse words also affords me to ability to be as expressive as I need to be in any given situation. When I slam my elbow into the edge of the table, I will scream "FUCK" at the top of my lungs so you get the full expression of the pain I feel at the moment without any candy-coating involved. If someone is an asshole, they are a fucking asshole, not a meanie or a turd. Really?! How old am I, three? An English degree under my belt and a colorful vocabulary are what make me so interesting to talk to, more so than the average jackass. Nothing makes me tune out more than someone who grasps at PC terminology and uses creepy childlike words to say in 8 paragraphs what I could have said in one sentence. This is why I am thrilled to be gifted with the ability to tell it like it is.
I am thankful for growing up before the technology age warped the minds of children. Thank God I know the difference between what is private and what can be publicly announced. I am relieved to have been born into a family that didn't have an abundance of money so I actually learned the value of a dollar and the importance of hard work. I can happily point out all my flaws so I don't have to focus so hard on yours. I am honest with myself and can admit when I've fucked up. Praise the Lord I was raised with respect for others and taught proper public behavior. I'd hate to be someone's embarrassment. Even though my home life was riddled with dysfunction and may have been considered scary by some, I am glad I lived it. It has taught me more than any books or school ever could and I am stronger today as a result. No one is happier than I to have lived in a city as a child rather than under the shade of a protected and sheltered suburbia. More life lessons are learned playing out on the street than being shuttled from playgroup to playdate and other overscheduled activities.
Speaking of overscheduling, I want to thank my parents again for not signing me up for every fucking sport, art class, and godforsaken other activity just to keep me busy my entire childhood. You know why? Because it wouldn't have been a childhood at all. I am grateful for all the unscheduled time I had on my hands, to read,  play, explore, and socialize. I am also thankful for being raised with religion. Whether you believe or not is not my problem, but at least I know when the going gets tough, I have someone stronger than I who loves me unconditionally looking out for my best interest. I am happy to have all my quirks and issues. I'd be so boring without them. Thank God I've had periods resembling crime scenes for the past five or more years, because had I not, I probably wouldn't be able to appreciate the gift of early onset menopause and embrace those hot flashes like a boss!
But what I am most thankful for this year is my family and friends, who are actually just my extended family. Grateful for family that I've been reunited with thanks to the technology that I mock as well as because of a death in our family, I am so lucky that time and distance hasn't created an enormous and insurmountable gap between us and we were able to pick up like time has stood still. A loner by nature, I still couldn't get through the day without knowing that the people I love are there when I need them. They support me and love me even with my quirks, issues, history of dysfunction, ADD, coffee addiction, drunken sailor's vocabulary, and lack of edit button. I have an awesome husband who is my best friend, an amazing daughter, and the cuddliest cat on the planet. What would I do without all this love I am surrounded by? I never want to find out.  Are you friggin kiddng me right now???

Nice tits or that catcall and vile comment makes me HAWT!

Men, it's your turn and I desperately need to pick on you today. Tell me something, do you really believe that your running commentary on every female within your radar will get you laid? Seriously, do you? I've often wondered this and have gotten truly mentally challenged answers when I've actually asked those of the male species. From "it's a compliment" to "she liked it"-- men have come up with some fucking doozies. I'm going to have to assume that it is related to the fucktarded Y chromosome that those of higher intelligence don't possess. There really is no other explanation for this bit of ignorance. In 2012, you'd believe that a woman of average attractiveness could walk down the street without some wannabe frat boy expressing himself in regard to her various assets. Screaming, whistling, hooting, and giving your own personal assessment of our body parts is grotesquely offensive at best. I know, it's meant to make us hot, right? When was the last time a woman replied in a positive fashion? Have you ever heard, "Oh baby, the way you talked about squeezing my TIT-AYYYYS until milk shoots out really turns me on, can I offer you a blow job right here, right now? Right, never.
Our main erogenous zone is nestled inside our cranium, in case you were wondering. Oh, I am so sorry, that means we are turned on when you stimulate our brains. We love it when you recognize how intelligent we actually are and let us know you've noticed. Score more if you tell us how impressive our vast knowledge is on a topic. Here's another hot approach, admit you are wrong and we are right about anything you'd like. You know it's true, you simply have to say it out loud. Rather than grabbing your junk and shaking it at us like it's some kind of generous offer, speak to us with respect, you'll get so much more out of us. Has woman ever grabbed her vag and shaken it back at you in response? Is it some kind of mating call of which I am unaware?  Maybe we are supposed to grab our boobs and alternately shift them up and down? To and fro? Not being a jungle dweller, I'm not certain what is appropriate. Did you leave your loincloth home, Tarzanfuckingboy?
An offshoot of this particular topic is men who feel it necessary to conduct a running commentary about every female they consider even remotely attractive and then share it with whatever female they happen to be with at the moment. Couple of things come into play here. One, we don't give a raging fuck about your opinion of other women. I know you think we want to know for some odd reason. Maybe you think we'll morph into today's version of the woman of your dreams? Perhaps you actually think we want to know what you find attractive in every other woman. What purpose does that serve? We aren't running out to get implants and collagen injections because you have no control over your dick. And most importantly, two, if you found us attractive enough to date, fuck, or marry, there must be something about us that keeps you coming back for more. Yet, the compliments never flow in our direction. We get the privilege of watching your neck on a swivel as we walk down the street because you are too fucking stupid to be discreet. We have eyes, too, but you'd never know it. Must be the higher intelligence thing kicking in again.
Taking this a step further, as I usually do, I am given to moments of sheer wonder about men who have nothing else to talk about with their friends but other women. Like they are trying really hard to impress each other with what body part on which bimbo makes them pop a chub. Not only do her tits and the other broad's big ass, along with the skank down the block's legs turn him on, but he will regale his buddies with descriptions of what he'd do with all of them given the opportunity. And they all go on and on about their very particular set of skills, sexual techniques, and tricks...the tales getting taller and taller by the second. The buddies egg each other on as they point out the other chicks passing by and their amazingly stunning attributes and how they'd make each and every one of them scream, ruin them for other men, and "she wouldn't walk for a week when I'm done with her" bullshit. Yeah, so truthful.

Here's what I propose, ask their wives if they are the manly fuck-machines they brag to their friends about or if they are actually pencil-dicked minutemen? Then laugh your ass off when they tell you the real facts. Some wives will laugh at the strange bonding ritual in which their husbands participate, shaking their heads at how incredibly idiotic they sound. Others turn a blind eye, and refocus it on hot guys as passive-aggressive payback for all the ogling and shit talk. Still others are truly offended because their men have never raved about their appearance to anyone, not even at the beginning of their relationship, and now wouldn't notice if she walked through the house balls-out naked unless she happened to step in front of the TV. I suppose if she actually had balls he might notice.
Rare is the man who has the cojones to stand up to his friends and tell them to quit making every goddamn female in the general area feel totally uncomfortable and shut the fuck up. I'm not sure I've ever met one who did. They'll keep quiet and not contribute to the conversation, laughing only here and there as they see fit. But not one will open his yap and defend women. Why is that? Is the punishment castration? Will your friends abandon you? Is it a deal-breaker among your frat brothers? Come on, there are millions of women waiting for the answer. We'd like to know when you became a gelding instead of the stallion you'd like all your friends to believe you are. If you were such a big fucking man, you'd be able to stand your ground with the pussies with whom you hang. But, guilt by association, or just based on your behavior, you, too, are a pussy just like the rest of them.
Even rarer is the woman who feeds into her man's obsession with other women. Pointing them out, commiserating with him about certain attributes, helping him amass his collection of memorabilia of her should she be someone famous, she is outwardly good-natured and supportive of the wandering eye of his little head. I'll tell you what she is inwardly, because I'd venture a guess she would tell you she is comfortable with her own sexuality and it's healthy for him to have a crush and she has complete and total confidence in their present bond. Bull-motherfucking-shit. What she actually is, and you can disagree, is totally insecure. She thinks if she stands up for herself and women everywhere by telling him that while she knows he's not dead and clearly there are other attractive people in the world, he doesn't have to sit in a pool of his own drool and jizz fantasizing about some other broad, waxing his version of poetic about how sexy she is to her. She thinks he'll walk out on her should she open her mouth. No great loss, dumb ass. Plus, some things are better left unsaid, this being in the top three.
Unless you guys want women to start commenting on your packages or lack thereof, I suggest you learn the value of silence. Because I'll tell you something, I've got no problem letting you know that it looks more like a man-gina than man meat sitting inside your ill-fitting jeans. How'd you like that while walking down the street with YOUR friends? And I'm sure you'll love it when my friends and I whistle when you pass and as you start to high five your friends feeling all studly, we scream out, "Not you Stubby McNoDick!" Think before you speak, know your audience, and show some goddamn respect for women, especially the one who sleeps in the same bed you do. Unless you are having a love affair with your palms, might I suggest throwing her a compliment or two throughout the day? Save the fantasizing for your head, and trust me when I tell you, the hot babes you like to tell your friends you'd like to break your schlong off in think you are a disgusting ugly slob. You have a better chance at becoming the President of the United States than banging any of the chicks you prattle on about. Are you friggin kidding me right now???