Facebook Balls

You know exactly what I'm talking about. Hell, I'm sure you have them. Technology has created a bunch of very brave cowards as of late and frankly, I'm disgusted by all of you. Not just on Facebook, but all over social media and anywhere you can put someone on blast for a supposed infraction of what you feel to be a major societal code. Seriously, folks, this has got to stop. Let's begin by remembering that most of you who suddenly have this overwhelming desire to call everyone out, were born way back before the age of the smartphone, laptop, or personal computer. I know I was and I fucking miss those days. The days when if someone pissed you off, you either had to suck it up and deal with it internally, call someone on the phone to complain and commiserate about the offending party, or actually confront the motherfucker and set the record straight. Do any of you have at least vague memories of this? Or is your brain too alcohol-soaked to recall any significant details of your childhood?

Since when is it ok to publicly rip someone a new asshole for something they may or may not have done? Since when is it acceptable to post photos of someone you don't like in order to make other people make fun of them along with you? Since when is it morally correct to accuse someone in front of God and everyone of crimes real and imagined...especially if you aren't a cop, attorney, or judge? When did we become Jesus Christ come down off the cross, ready to smote all those who offend us? It's bad enough you feel the need to share all the details of your ridiculous life with the entire planet, as they happen, on the daily. That is leaving you open to the scrutinizing eye of everyone with internet access...which is bad enough. And yes, we do scrutinize and judge the fuck out of you. But, and here's where it goes horribly wrong...when the scrutiny doesn't remain in your head and comes flying out of your fingertips and onto the screen of whatever technology you happen to be in possession of at the moment. If you want to rag on someone to your friends, have at it, we all do it. At least I admit it.

The thing that gets me, that should get you, is when you get all Judgmental Jesus and take the mocking process public. Or the calling out. Or whatever you, in all your glorious perfection, deem to be a gross transgression of what is right in your world. Let me tell you something...come closer so you can really hear me...YOU ARE NOT MY MOTHER! That should set the record straight. If you aren't my mother, you have no right to judge me, correct me, fix me, or call me out. She is and was the only person on this planet with the right to do so and the only one I would have ever listened to regarding my flaws and imperfections. The rest of you can go straight to hell, where assholes who try to publicly humiliate others belong. Are you perfection personified? If you are then please, teach us your ways so that we can be just like you. Since we all know that perfection does not exist, sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up, and put the smartphone away. We don't need your help.

Let's think about the things that people feel the need to put on blast, shall we? It's usually ridiculous, but sometimes it cuts deeply to the core of who someone is and you don't know anyone you criticize publicly that well. When you decide you are going to write a paragraph long Facebook rant about the mother you saw in the supermarket yelling at her child, describing in detail how evil she looked, what a terrible parent she is, and how you would have handled it oh-so-much better...what do you really know about the situation you just saw? Tell me, what do you know about that woman other than the fact that you saw her snap? Do you know why? Did you follow her from the moment she woke up? Did you also see her child kick the dog, set fire to the kitchen, try to smother the baby in her crib, and use foul language that would make your hair curl directed at the mother? All this while mom, poor mom, was trying to get ready for another job interview, figure out who was going to watch the children during that time because the babysitter called in sick, and she really needs a job because her drunken husband can't keep a job for more than ten minutes and she'd rather be out of the house anyway since his abuse has been escalating? Did you know that??? No, you didn't. You saw a brief moment in time and labelled the poor woman, ripping her apart, probably making her out to be ugly, inside and out...because you didn't really know.

This is the kind of shit that drives me crazy. Those brief moments in time. Little snippets that the outside world accidentally sees and makes snap judgments about. If you don't know the person, really know them, know their history, the day they've had, or the actual situation and the relationship she has with the person to whom she is speaking...walk away. Walk away and move on with your day. You may hear me talking to my daughter one day and call her an asshole...do you know why I've picked that exact word? Nope, you'd just call me an abusive mother. The little funny you aren't aware of is that we call one of our cats an asshole and sometimes we say that one of us is acting like her. It isn't mean, we love our cats like family. But all you'd hear is a mother calling her child a bad name. And you'd judge me harshly, write about it on Facebook or Twitter, maybe even with an accompanying sneaked photo of us...right before we burst out laughing. Very nice of you. I hope you got my good side, accenting my nose ring and my daughter's. We like to match whenever possible...but you didn't know that. You thought I beat her when no one was looking. See the discrepancy?

How about when you've decided you are mad at someone you do know and you choose to put them on blast? Are you such a pussy that you can't talk to them directly? Do you need a bunch of people you don't even know to stand in judgment with you on the internet to feel better? Does it make your stance more right? Perfect strangers jumping to your defense regarding something they haven't a clue about, taking your side about a topic of which they've only seen one side and not even completely...makes you feel big and strong, doesn't it? You experience virtual vindication! Hooray for you, shit stain. Doesn't make you right. Makes you a jackass. A jackass who can't handle their own private affairs...PRIVATELY. You know, privately, like grown ass people mature enough to deal with life do? People who can actually talk to another person directly when something is bugging them instead of becoming the town crier. You aren't one of them. You, my friend, are an ass clown.

Here are the facts as I see them, you don't know people the way you think you do, pure and simple. Your view is limited and skewed based on your own personal experiences. I completely understand that. When I see a man yelling at a woman, I cringe and then want to run over there and rescue the woman. I don't because I really don't know the situation. For all I know, it's a simple argument gone public. Nothing dangerous or ominous. Maybe she said something horrible to him that I hadn't heard. Not all fights are indicative of domestic violence. It doesn't mean that my first reaction isn't chilling. But I am mature enough and intelligent enough to know that not every situation is at it seems at first glance. If I am mad at you, rest assured you won't see evidence of it on any social media site, whatsoever. You won't see terrible photos of yourself with mean-spirited captions. Nor will you read a status and immediately know it is about you. I'm not that scared little shit. If you piss me off, you'll know it. The rest of the world won't. I'm very good at being phony when necessary. The rest of you, the cowards who hide behind their technology screens, it's time to grow the fuck up, butt the fuck out, and act like adults, not giant babies, scared of your own shadow. I have absolutely no time for your shit. One day, no one else will, either. And we all know you can't handle being alone. Are you friggin kidding me right now???

Shut the Fuck Up!

No, really, shut the fuck up. I think I've had all I can possibly take from people and their bitching, whining, and griping to last a goddamn lifetime...and I am done. Is life really that hard? Tell the truth. Because if you say yes, and you don't have cancer, aren't beaten by your spouse, have a decent job, and a roof over your head...you're an asswipe. Life has its trials and tribulations, I am totally aware of that. Some days are shittier than others, some are just peachy, neato, keeno. 'Tis the nature of the beast. Life is a fickled bitch, and she does what she wants, when she wants. And you know what, that is perfectly fine. You'd never appreciate the good days if you didn't have a sprinkling of bad. But you don't appreciate anything. You would take the joy out of a fucking newborn. There's not a thing you can't piss all over. Why? What's made you so crusty? Did your mommy not love you enough?

Tell me how is a cold ruining your day? Seriously, how can snot wreck an entire 24 hour period? The powerful and mighty Mucosa! Look out, it's infiltrating nostrils everywhere! Certainly, you can't function when you have a stuffy nose, now can you? Your legs stop working, your eyes no longer see, it actually renders you paralyzed. Oh, it doesn't? Then why the hell do you make it sound like you were hit by a fucking truck while on roller skates every time you sneeze? Relax your sack, it's simply a basic virus. Not deadly, and certainly not incapacitating. Feel free to stop posting about it non-stop on social media. We really don't give a rat's furry little ass. In reality, most of us are laughing at you, even if we've wished you well and told you to feel better. Inside, we are mocking the fuck out of you and your wussy whining.

Life is filled with stuff we have to do rather than want to do. Even stuff for which we haven't planned, like flat tires, toilets overflowing, long lines at the supermarket, traffic...loads of totally un-fun shit. But, your reaction to them, that's a choice. No one forces you to get all pissy and bitchy when these things occur. Oh no, that's all you. Are any of these things insurmountable? Nope. Do you act like the sky is falling every time one of them happens? Sure as shit you do. Most of those things, life's little annoyances, are totally beyond your control. No one intentionally causes these things, no one wished them on you, the world is NOT out to get you...you aren't that important. I'm pretty sure the rest of the world doesn't consider you when it circles the sun. Sorry to disappoint all you narcissistic mother fucks out there. Shit happens. See if you can get over it.

Some of you like making mountains out of molehills. There have been plenty of injuries, sicknesses, even surgeries in my house...but you'd never know it. Most certainly you'd never find me blasting it all over social media land. It's none of your goddamn business, nor do I want your opinions and definitely not your pity. I don't require either. As a grown ass woman, I can handle the things that life throws at me. Much more than you can ever imagine and definitely more than you could on your very best day. I may not show it outwardly, but I am always fighting the good fight. Inside my mind and in my heart, there is constant turmoil, things about which I am constantly worried, tears left unshed, heartaches about which I'll never tell you, and normal every day shit that I have to get done. Trust me, you'll never see any of it on Facebook or Twitter. You can't help me and I don't want your trite words of supposed empathy.

There are so many folks out there who have had it worse than I, yet you'd never know it. Going about their lives, laughing and smiling, appreciating the warmth of the sun, the cool breeze on their faces...truly living life. While you sit around, glued to your computer screen, looking for shit about which to complain. No one I know has it that bad, lucky for them. Living in their safe little havens, untouched by real illness, never having to have dealt with true tragedy, having never felt threatened by someone they love, their children happy and generally healthy...grousing and griping about every little drama that they create out of their own self-pity and inability to handle life. Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Don't you feel the slightest bit fucktarded for complaining now? If you don't, I'm afraid there's really no hope for you. Are you friggin kidding me right now???

Do What You Gotta Do!

To piggy-back on the last entry, I'd like to continue along a similar vein. One of my daughter's roommates last year said this all the time, or so I've heard. And you know what? I like it. A whole lot. It applies to your entire life, everything you say and do. Not just your life, but everyone's around you. It implies a certain degree of respect for the choices and decisions of others, don't you agree? Not that it matters. See what I did there? I'm forcing you to be on the side of the live and let live. Your opinion, while valuable to you, means nothing to me and the way I see or do things. So many hang their whole day on what others think of them. Why is this? What drives this way of thinking? Did someone hold you down as a child and tell you that your ideas meant shit and that the only thing that mattered was what the world saw? Are you so weak-minded that you care? Loads of questions and I know your tiny, thought-challenged brain needs time to process it all.

Let's begin with attempting to be judgement-free. I know what you're going to say, and let me stop you there. First, suck my ass, sack-licker. I make observations about what I see, what I hear, what I read. Mere observations. You may not agree with them, you may not like them. That's perfectly fine with me. I don't live to please you. Judgement-free. You shouldn't care about my observations except to see if you've also noticed the same thing. Taking this a step further, if someone wants to wear mismatched socks on a Friday, cool. Why should you care? They are the owners of those feet. Should I want another tattoo, does it mark up your body or mine? Unless I drag you down to the shop with me and force you to get a matching one, it's on me. And since I'm a grown-ass woman, I get to make those kind of choices for myself, knowing it affects only me and me alone. Gay marriage, boxers vs briefs, vegan vs omnivore...it's all up to the individual. You are against gay marriage? Don't marry a gay person. My drawers and the drawers of the nation are a very personal choice and it sure as hell ain't up to you to pick them. Yes, you must kill an animal to eat meat. Yes, I said kill. In the jungle of life, there's survival of the fittest. Should you want to eat sprouts and tofu, have at it. Doesn't affect my dinner. Are you getting this yet?

People who genuinely care about what others think make me bat-shit crazy. Why does the opinion of someone that doesn't even live in your house, pay your bills, or sleep in your bed matter so fucking much? How many live rent-free in your head? Do they at least do laundry? Oh, I can't wear that to the supermarket, what if Janey JunkSucker is there and sees me? I shouldn't say that out loud, what if Marty McMoron hears me and tells someone else? If I post this on Facebook, will it offend Betty Bitchface? Why the fuck do you care? Does their opinion pay your mortgage? Will your life change in any significant way if they frown upon something you've said or done? The answer, in case you hadn't a clue, is a resounding FUCK NO. Nothing they think changes you, your life, who you are, or your place in this world. If you can still wake up in the morning, take a shit, go to work, and live your life...their opinion has had zero affect on you. And it shouldn't.

The media can cause a serious amount of self-doubt, particularly in females. Of this I am painfully aware. Photoshopped stars staring at us, daring us to look the way we do. Challenging us to try to be happy with our appearance as we gaze into the faces of supposed perfection. I'll let you in on a secret. Even the stars don't look like that. They've been airbrushed, photoshopped, slathered with a shit ton of makeup by a professional, dressed for the occasion by yet another pro...come on, did you really believe the hype? There seems to be the opinion, as shoveled down our throats by TV, movies, and print media that women need to be startlingly skinny in order to be attractive. Really? Who says? We've gone over this bit of bullshit before. Sexy is not skin and bones. Curves, lush and soft...now that screams sex appeal. Don't let the ridiculousness of what Hollywood and a bunch of ugly men are trying to do to your ego. If you look in the mirror and like what you see, that is all that matters.

I propose we start doing what we like simply because we like it. No other reason. No ulterior motives. Just to make us happy. There's no law that says we can't. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. These are our rights in this country. Why shouldn't we exercise them? If I like to dress up one day and wear a concert tee and ripped jeans the next, am I hurting anyone? Some people like to laugh loudly when they hear something funny. Go crazy, motherfucker! Enjoy that joke from your guts out. You listen to country/classical/ghetto rap/polka? Roll your car windows down and blast that shit without apology. Eat that PB&J with the crusts cut off at lunch and laugh at your salad-eating co-workers.  Put that Hello Kitty/IronMan phone case on your Galaxy S5 and answer that phone like a boss when your Scooby-Doo ringtone beckons. Do what you gotta do, and do it with style! I know I will. Do you think I give a flying rat's ass what you think of me? Are you friggin kidding me right now???

Strong opinions don't make you right...

Let me remind you of an Uncle Tommy-ism right off the bat. Your opinion doesn't make you right, sometimes you are just a loud wrong. Opinions, we all have them. Hell, we are all entitled to them. It's a free country, say and feel whatever the fuck you'd like. Just don't scream "FIRE" in a crowded theatre, right? Seems simple. However, since we now have a profusion of folks that think that social media seems to invite our every thought to become public, there's a shit ton of you who think your opinions are fact. Why, I can't imagine. Putting something in print doesn't make it so. Ask anyone who writes for a living. There are fact checkers, editors, rules, disclaimers...I could go on, but you get the point. If I like the color lime, that doesn't mean it is the best color on the planet and everyone should now love it and wear it, paint their walls that color, and buy lime green cars. Personally, I couldn't give a fuck less if you like what I like. You are you, which is NOT me, by definition, and therefore, have your own likes and dislikes. Even intense beliefs, those are all yours. Mine are all mine. Should they be similar, wonderful. If not, it doesn't change my day in the slightest.

Pan over to a typical day in social media land. Everyone is announcing the minutiae of their day, what they ate, how they feel, the mundane tasks of housework, all of the things we'd all rather not know. But fine, tell me what you washed, where you drove your kid for the umpteenth time, and that you have another stuffy nose. I may not care, but you are free to clog my feed with whatever nonsense you see fit. Part of our freedom of speech. Let it out, let it all out, baby. But bear in mind this one simple fact, your opinion is not the gospel truth. It will not affect how I live my life in the least bit. Don't expect it to. If you want to be on a totally organic vegan diet recommended by some guru you found on the internet, go ahead on with your big, bad self. Announce it all over every site you belong to with gusto. Do NOT expect me to follow suit. I will not do what you say just because you think you found Jesus in your new obsession. I am a highly educated, extremely intelligent woman. I do not need someone to think for me. Should you decide that you disagree with the President of the United States, you are free to do so. But, you must refrain from calling me and everyone like me an asshole for supporting him. There is more than one political party for a reason. Differing opinions about how the country should be run. Right, wrong, or somewhere in between...we, as a nation voted this man into office. Raging up the left and down the right isn't going to change my opinion about Mr. Obama.

So many topics upon which you've become an expert. So many ideas you want to shove down my throat. Being gung ho about something doesn't make it right for everyone. There's the parenting arena, one I threw my hat into many years ago. We all have our own way of doing it. Starting from pregnancy to childbirth and points beyond. Don't tell me I can't eat pizza and Chinese food every night of my gestation. How do you know what my baby wants? I didn't give birth to a hippo, so I guess it was fine. You want to wear your child like an accessory because you believe it's the only way to bond? Have at it. I didn't, yet my child is as close to me as any only daughter could possibly be. Hmm, is your way the best way...the only way? Not really. Breastfeeding. I could go on for hours about my opinions on the subject. I have very strong opinions against it. I think it's a savage way to feed your child. Do I care if you do? Hell, no. They're your ta-tas, do whatever you want with them. I have no say over that territory. My boobs are mine, all mine. You cannot tell me what to do with them. If I choose to keep them in my bra, rather than whipping them out for all to see in order to feed my child, it's MY choice. I am not a bad parent. My child will not have asthma, allergies, food allergies, lowered immunity, be overweight, or insecurely attached. She will not be mentally stunted nor have learning difficulties. Oh, that's right...she's 19 and has none of the above issues and never has. Bottle baby all the way. I didn't even pump. So, suck that, breastfeeding Nazis.

Anti-vaxxers! Holy fuck they are everywhere. "I'm not vaccinating my child because immunizations are dangerous, untested, cause Autism, and death." What the fuck? Can you prove it in your own neighborhood? At your child's school? In your house? I can prove otherwise right in your mirror. You, like me, like everyone else our age and older, were fully and completely vaccinated. Are you Autistic? Did you die? No? Then what is your proof? I'm not even going to remind you that there are vaccines that aren't even around anymore. Why? Because we've eradicated those diseases from our society. But let's put that aside for a moment. We are a living testament to the fact that they work and cause no harm. You disagree with me. Excellent. Do not vaccinate your child. Prevent them from being protected against disease. That is your choice. And that's okay with me. My child is and always will be protected from as many diseases as possible, so the fact that you want to expose yours to every funky ass bacteria that could cause serious issues, including death doesn't affect me...or her. Trust that I won't go all redneck crazy on your ass, filling your feed with my opinion, telling you how wrong you are to have made the decisions you have. I don't care enough.

You know what? It's not even lack of caring that prevents me from pounding you with my opinions, attempting to sway you to my way of thinking, my beliefs, my concerns, my likes and dislikes. No, it's not that at all. I truly believe that I am more evolved than you. I can live and let live. My life is not changed by how you live yours and I naturally assume yours remains unaffected by my choices. Somehow, I think you may know this already. Sadly, I don't think you care. Cro-magnon thinking, knuckle-dragging, pushy, opinionated cunt buckets haven't a clue that the rest of us don't give a shit. We don't base our decisions on your mindless, brainless rantings on social media. You do realize that, don't you? You can't believe your incessant jabber matters, can you? Are you friggin kidding me right now???

There Ought to be a Law: Part 2

You didn't think I was finished with this topic, did you? I warned you last time that there was more on my mind, more areas in which you fail. Not wanting to be remiss in my obvious concern for your well-being and how you present yourself to the world, I am here to continue to talk to you about some of these other issues that keep cropping up lately. No one wants to be THAT person. The big buffoon. The ass clown. The helmet-wearing window-licker. Have no fear, I am here. Moving forward from last time...

4. Parenting license:  Why is it we need to register to vote, get licenses to hunt, fish, drive a car...hell, you need to take classes when you want to drive...but to become a parent, likely the most important job any of us will ever hold, you just have to fuck? Don't get all up in my grill if you have had to take extraordinary means to have children, I do understand is isn't always that easy. I get it. My point is, most people just have to have sex and lo and behold, they are allowed to raise a child, Just like that. Here you go, have a child. What qualifies you to do so? I've seen some doozies out there, rationalizing with two year olds, potty training one year olds, or the reverse, having almost five year olds in diapers...who decided that making diapers in size SEVEN would be a good thing in the quest to get children transitioned to underwear? But I digress. There are people who have kids and then seem to want nothing to do with them, as opposed to the hover mothers out there who won't let their kids' feet touch the ground. Why have children if all you really wanted to do is continue to act like foolhardy singles, going out every night, working long hours, and taking couple's vacations? On the other hand, if all you wanted was control...that wasn't the right avenue to take, either. Some of us are amazing at it...not to pat myself on the back, but I have a pretty good kid. One who is independent and strong. What more can I ask for? Kids today are being raised so poorly, I'd have to wonder if they'll ever survive in the real world. Let's start issuing licenses to only the truly qualified. Sure, it'll cut the population down, but think of all the available parking!

5. Rambling answers:  Get to the point! Is it that hard? A yes or no question requires a one word answer, not a dissertation about why you chose the two letter word over the three and why the sky is blue today and your shoes hurt your feet and the cashier at Safeway didn't smile at you...I don't give a ripe fuck. Do you want another cup of coffee, for example, doesn't require endless paragraphs about caffeine, peeing, headaches, and your hemorrhoids to say, "yes, please" or "no, thank you" in reply. Also, and not to be totally rude, "How are you?" is a simple question, not a request for a complex diatribe on all that is wrong in your world. I do care, or I wouldn't have asked. But spare me the hour-long response. I can't focus on anything for that period of time. I can't even watch TV without getting up and down, checking my phone...in case Jesus has tried to contact me, running to the kitchen, and talking to one of the cats. You can't expect me to listen to you drone on and on for more than a sentence at a time. Pretend you are talking to a child, not talking down, just use brevity with me. Act like you are running past me and have but a few seconds to respond. Is that too much to ask? Do you love the sound of your own voice so much that you can't be asked to cut down on the verbiage? Trust me, it ain't that pleasant.

6.  Slang instead of manners.  Didn't your mother teach you anything? Seriously? We've become a lazy bunch of motherfucks. Who here wasn't taught to say, "You're welcome" when someone says "Thank you" to you? When did it become socially acceptable to shorten and bastardize all our responses into horrifically informal, uneducated-sounding shit? If I thank you for something, "no problem" "you bet" and "gotcha" are not acceptable answers...EVER. The only appropriate and polite response is "you're welcome" and nothing else. Hello. One word, five letters. Can you say it? Neither, "yo" "what's up" "how's it goin" nor "hey" will suffice. What the fuck is your problem? Unlike the jackass in number 5, you opt to abbreviate everything. My ADD can handle entire words and sentences. Use them. Manners are not out of style, you're an asshole. "Can I" has replaced" May I" all over the place. Can I go to the bathroom? Uh, I don't know, can you? Are you physically able to? Can I see the salt? Can you? Would you like to hold it, too? Perhaps even use it? It's in there, I know it is. You can't be that fucking moronic. It's impossible. I refuse to believe that no one taught you proper English and how to politely speak to others. In addition, not only should you speak proper English, but learn to accept compliments gracefully. When someone tells you they like your hairdo, don't pull all that self-effacing bullshit that you normally do and insult yourself. Just say "thank you" and mean it. Now, was that so hard?

To be clear, there are many more areas you completely blow it and if I had the time or inclination, we'd discuss them here and now. Sadly, I have actually stopped caring. It could be the fact that I've run out of wine, I'm tired, I need to pee, or you are just beyond help and I've decided to give up. In any event and whatever the actual reason is, it's all on you now. The torch has been passed, God help me. Take my advice, do as you're told, straighten up and fly right, fucktard. The world was not meant for people to behave the way you do. This is a civilized society and you are expected to blend the fuck in, not stand out like a sore, mentally deficient thumb. If you choose to ignore my well-thought out advice, don't come crying to me when someone bitch slaps you for acting a fool. And they will. Are you friggin kidding me right now???

There ought to be a law!

People, please, get your shit together! Why I have to even do this is a mystery to me. These things should be obvious, even to the dumbest of you ass clowns. Lately, I'm shaking my head so much, I'm giving myself headaches. That rubs my ass so far in the wrong direction, I'd like to punch you in the throat. Wasting my prescription narcotics on you window licking, dipshits pisses me off. Stuff your mother should have taught you, things you should have learned in kindergarten before it became Common Core 2nd grade, shit you should have figured out as a functioning member of society...it's somehow my job to pound it into your thick skulls.  Fine. Here goes.

1. Screaming children.  No one knows better than I do that children scream. Children are loud. They love the sound of their own voices and all the fun things it can do. I get it. I really do. But there is a time and a place for all things, loud little snot rockets included. One of those places is definitely and most certainly not a restaurant in which I am dining. Nothing jars me out of my happy place, which is eating, more than the fingernails on a blackboard sound of someone's spawn shrieking at the top of their lungs while the parents do nothing about it. I realize that kids will erupt like the little asshole volcanoes they are at the most inopportune moments. It's what YOU do directly thereafter that counts. Realistically, you should have trained your little monkey how to behave in public, but they are volatile and will test limits, I know. As soon as you start to hear that God-awful sound, grab the little fucker by the hand and lead them outside. Do whatever it is you do to show them the error of their ways and return to your seat with a better version of what fell out of your vagina.

2. Barking dogs.  I love all animals great and small. I really do. I've had more pets and have loved them all equally. I love my girls, Becca and MJ, like they are my other daughters. So, don't go all animal activist on me. By the way, I hate you extremist mother fucks. Moving on before I get distracted...oh look, a butterfly. Barking dogs are cute on the end of their leashes held by their mommy or daddy. I love to pet them and get little doggy kisses. However, when I am in my home, and your little furball is letting out all of his or her verbiage for the day at top volume, penetrating my very thin walls, and annoying me and the cats, I no longer like your dog. As a matter of fact, I am envisioning all sorts of terrible, horrible, no good, very bad things. This is not like me at all. I do not like the visions that pop into my head. The image of me grabbing Fluffy by the scruff and drop kicking him across the parking lot is not pleasant to me. But, you...you have the ability to erase this image. Doggies can be trained, just like children, to be quiet...obedient. Do it. Do it now, do it quickly.

3. Cutting people off on line.  This one should be obvious! No cuts. You learn this in kindergarten. When the bell rings and you line up, you fill in behind the last person you see. No fucking cuts! You get pushed if you do. And you know what? You deserve it. It just frosts my cookies to see some grown ass person approach a line from the side, seeing another person making a direct course to the aforementioned line, and thrusting their cart in front of the person in the right of way, cutting the line. WHAT THE FUCK?! You saw the other person, I know you did. You acted with malice aforethought. My attorney followers will enjoy that reference, but it's true! How dare you think you are more important than someone else in such a grotesque manner? Moreover, what in your little pea brain made you think it was perfectly fine to do it to me? It's a fucking playground rule, douche canoe. You just don't cut. Others may allow it, keep quiet, hold back. Not me, baby. I will let you know how you've wronged me...loudly. Don't make me discipline you. Mommy should have years ago. I'm not your mommy.

We've only scratched the surface today. There are many more areas where you fail. Don't worry, I'll tell you all about them next time. I wouldn't leave you hanging like that. I am a kind and compassionate person who doesn't want you to walk on this earth acting like a buffoon any more. I've taken on this job to help you. A job I take very seriously because you annoy the living fuck out of me and I am this close to hating you. This close to junk punching you. Don't think I won't. Are you friggin kidding me right now???

I'm bringing booty back...

What the hell is a size 00? I need someone to explain this to me, very slowly and with great detail. What is exactly is a size nothing? No, wait, a size double nothing? I'm pretty sure it's impossible to to be invisible. So what the fuck are we doing here? Why does the fashion industry think it's perfectly acceptable to put out clothing that is meant for anorexics or non-existent human beings? Unrealistic standards for beauty! That's what they are pushing in our faces, every damn day, in every damn way. Magazines, TV, billboards...all presenting us with the skinniest people they can find. Not only that, let's be honest here, everyone is photoshopped these days. Models, movie stars, assholes on social media sites. Everyone is doing it.

When did looking like a woman fall out of vogue? When did having an ass become something ugly or repulsive? Why do we need to airbrush out inches of curvy thigh before a photo is acceptable to share? Hips are narrowed, asses are slimmed down, faces sunken in to deathly hollows, stomachs erased to concavity...what the fresh fuck is this? Who looks like this? Heroin addicts, girls with serious eating disorders, and malnourished children in third world countries. Tell the truth, men, is that what turns you on? Does a pair of bony legs put lead in your pencil? Do hips resembling a ten year old boy's pump up your chub? Does a flat ass tickle your pickle? I'm gonna go out on a limb and answer for you...no fucking way. I know everyone has a type, and some prefer less meat on their woman's bones. But I do not believe for one minute that the emaciated-looking shit they are shoving down our throats is anyone's sexy ideal.

I'm not even going to rant about how this nonsense is the genesis of the eating disorders of today's youth. This is not news. Everyone with half a brain can make the connection. So, let's not belabor this. Instead, let's raise our voices against the sucking away of our femininity. What makes us women. What separates us from the boys...aside from the obvious. We are built to be soft, rounded, and curvy. Our curves are part of our makeup for bearing children. We need the room! That notwithstanding, we should embrace ourselves instead of despising what makes us beautiful, sexy, lush creatures. We shouldn't be forced to hate the very essence of who we are.

A full, round ass is sexy on a woman. I challenge you to contradict me. Meghan Trainor even defends my stance in All About That Bass. You all enjoy a bouncy set of fun bags...do you think they come naturally on a twig? Hell, no. They are made of glands and fat. The more fat, the bigger the boobie. You did know that, didn't you? My luscious hooters are not surgically enhanced, they are God-given...and enhanced only by good food and excellent wine. No silicone in these puppies. And why should there be? The rest of me is all real, too. That's just it. I am who I am and I make no apologies for it. None of us should be sorry for the way we look. Women in particular. We are constantly on display, being gawked at, leered at, judged, commented on, picked apart in the fishbowl that is our lives. By men, by other women...by society in general. It's bullshit.

I want your daughters to be able to walk proudly down the street, with their heads held high, unafraid of what others think of their appearance. We come in all different shapes and sizes. Every one of them is beautiful. When we can break down the expectations of unrealistic and often unattainable body size, we can finally love ourselves the way we were meant to be loved. Fuck anyone who says different. Who gives a shit what others think? You have to live with you, you'd better love you! Big, small, or somewhere in between, it's all perfect. I'd much rather drink booze and eat dessert than be a size 00. What's the fun in that? I'm bringing booty back. Are you friggin kidding me right now???