People Who Need to Stay the Fuck Off Social Media

Has it really been a year since I have addressed you all? Sweet and muscular Jesus, for that I apologize wholeheartedly. Writing has taken me all over the map and sadly, I had neither the time nor energy to give you a dose of what you crave...my fucking opinion! Noticing that my last post was Facebook Faux Pas and it was seriously lacking a shitton of online annoyances, I decided to finish my damn thought and continue along that path today. Why, you may ask? Because far too many people are missing the point of social media and what it is used for...missing the point and driving me out of my goddamn skin! So, let's get cracking and call these fucktards out.

1. Passive-aggressive vague posters. Need I say more? Oh hell, when have I not expanded on my own rant? Am I the only one who reacts to these posts violently? When you share a status that only you understand, you've done it with the sole purpose of getting the rest of us to ask what you mean. Dragging the supposed issue out of you like pulling a tooth from a lion, your friends ask if you are okay, what's wrong, and do they need to cut a bitch? The equivalent of searching for a virtual hug, this post drives me batshit crazy! If you are pissed off at someone, tell them. Life is frustrating and you want someone to commiserate with you? Make the frustrating issue your actual post! Sometimes you want to complain about a family member or friend that is on Facebook, too, and you are afraid they will read it and know it's about them, so you dance around the problem and drop a detail or two, playing coy as fuck. Again I say to you, talk to that person directly or never speak to them for the rest of your life. Either way, you haven't yanked us all into your angry little mystery theatre production. Don't expect me to play twenty questions with you, because I truly don't give a rat's asshole. This is not rocket science, people. Passive-aggressiveness sucks in person, but we don't need it clogging up our news feeds on a site that is meant to be FUN and a means of actual communication. 

2. Sharing/Re-sharing old news, fake or not. This one rubs me the wrong way for two separate reasons. The first is pretty simple. Check the date on a news story before you excitedly post it as fresh information. Stop telling me that Bob Hope died!!! Maybe you rarely read the news and aren't up to date on celebrity deaths, disease outbreaks, or the latest fashion fads...and that in and of itself is fine. Maybe you truly had no idea the cronut was a thing. I am not judging your lack of access to a newspaper or the internet. What I am picking apart is your inability to read the fucking date!!! If it happened in 2003, chances are, we've all seen it or heard about it, dipshit. Further into this atrocity of the internet are people who don't fucking fact check! Please be sure you are 100% positive someone is dead before you post the crying emoji and the status claiming one of my favorite stars is now taking a dirt nap. Use your brain as something other than a cranium filler. If something sounds like bullshit or is on a website that seems a tad sketchy like www.conservativeassholeswritethisshit.com, it probably is a crock of shit and doesn't need to be shared with the rest of the independently thinking, brain using, educated world. Believe what you want but don't subject the rest of us who read above a third grade level to utter nonsense!

3. The online tyrant/bully/passionate poster. There's a special place in hell for these assholes. While I realize I've named three entirely different types of people, they fall into the same category for me. Jackasses with no place on social media whatsoever. Working my way backward, let's begin with the passionate poster. You know at least one person like this. Shoving their stance or opinions on this, that, and the other thing down our throats in status tirades. We all have opinions and the Constitution allows us the wonderful right to freedom of speech, and I get that. However, you are crossing a dangerous line when you not only shove that opinion down my throat, but you then demand that I subscribe to it. Oh hell no you didn't! Capable of independent thought since a very young age, I'll form my own fucking opinions and viewpoints, thank you very much. Moving on to the bully, my personal favorite, this individual uses other people's statuses as a forum to not only run their agenda, but to cut down anyone who doesn't happen to agree with them. Not just cut down, but attempt to beat up, using only words as their weapon. If you've ever been on the receiving end of their verbal assault, you know exactly what I mean. Many don't have the testicular fortitude to go head to head with this buffoon. What most don't realize is, usually, this douchebag is as dumb as a box of rocks and it really doesn't take much to outclass and outrank them. The problem you face when you attempt to fight back, is they cannot shut the fuck up. Loud wrongs, the lot of them, and they don't know when they've been beaten soundly, so they plod on, babbling like idiots. The tyrant is fairly similar, the only difference being they will post their own angry shit as bait to start a fight they'd desperately love to win. Following the same pattern as the bully, they try to shoot down your every argument with chimp logic. Unless you feel strongly about the topic, don't even bother engaging this asswipe.

4. The Online Ass Kisser. Oh come on, you know who you are! The first person on every post with a photo to comment, you insist on waxing poetic and acting like they are not only the most attractive you've ever laid eyes on, but also the smartest, kindest, and most amazing human being on planet Earth. Um, really? It may ring true if you only said it to one person, but you lick the balls of everyone on Facebook!!! Starts to take some of the power out of your words when they are repeated on three other posts. Not just that, but why are all of your kind words for people you never see in person, barely know, or don't really give a shit about? Don't think the rest of us don't notice you never comment on real friends' and your family's posts. Who the fuck are you impressing? What do you gain from sucking up? Facebook is not the direct path to heaven. As I have told people in the past, God does not have a Facebook account, he uses Snapchat. Beyond that, I've also told you all to be kind in person to the people you love, not all over social media to show off to people who don't fucking matter. This person is a special kind of stupid and not as kind as they'd like you to believe. If they were, they wouldn't have to play the part online so dramatically. Take their comments with a grain of salt, I'm sure they don't even mean them.

5. The Wannabe Writer Rant. We have all seen their posts and most of us with above average intelligence levels have cringed while reading them. Everyone likes to think they write well, and some of you do. These posts are not written by any of you. No, these out of control, angry, mean-spirited, ludicrous rants are always written by someone who can't form a coherent sentence. Most days, I am forced to laugh out loud at the stupidity that I am reading. Some days, I get pissed. Why? Because they have friends, dumber than they are, who hop on board and start applauding these morons, telling them how fucking right they are and how amazing what they've said is...and that they should consider writing a book because, holy hell, they'd fucking buy it! How fucking brain dead do you have to be to see one of those posts and actually think they are well written? If you completed at least eight years of school, you'd notice the lack of proper grammar, the spelling mistakes, the improper usage of the $25,000 words...and you'd join me in mocking them mercilessly. Not only are their posts filled with embarrassing mistakes, but they are often chock full of misdirected fury about shit they know nothing about. Someone please, introduce them to Google! There is another version of this cuntbucket, the semi-intelligent pretentious bitch. She often writes posts like she is working on her Facebook thesis and wants people to know she is educated and so not like you. The kicker is, she sounds like a fucking twatwaffle and by virtue of that, less than intelligent. Social media is not a forum for intellectual discourse, it is a fun place to connect and share. Can political discussions happen? Sure. Can important topics be explored? Absolutely. But let's keep it at a level even our slowest friends can follow, shall we? Stop the holier than thou shit and keep it real!!!

These are just five of the annoying cockknockers we have to deal with on social media, and I know there are countless more. Alas, I have run out of time and desire to contend with their brand of nonsense. Just know this, I see you and I am not afraid to call you out in front of God and your 238 Facebook friends, 97% of whom you barely know or actually speak to, but you'd never know it based on your online behavior. Keep it up, this bitch has the arsenal to cut you down to size before you even feel the first slice. Think you have the stones to go up against me? Are you friggin kidding me right now???

Facebook Faux Pas: The Latest Batch of Losers

Let me preface this rant by saying, I love Facebook, I honestly do. The ability to keep up with people who live across the country without having to pick up the the phone and actually talk to them is quite possibly its biggest draw for me. Don't judge me, you know you feel the same way. No one picks up a phone anymore. Talking is effort and texting is far easier and you don't have to commit to a chunk of time. Respond when you can. You know, because we are all SO busy. Seriously, I don't want to dedicate large portions of my day to chattering away on a phone. I get so little time without voices filling my poor ears, I crave the silence. More specifically, I miss hearing music without interruption. But I am getting totally off topic here. Facebook is a great way to reconnect, stay connected, keep up...social media. It is a tool meant to help us socialize since this generation is filled with socially inept asswads who can't carry on a conversation much less keep in contact with a fuck ton of people. I am one. Not that I cannot carry on a conversation, because Lord knows I can hold my own...keeping in contact with everyone that you know you should is my kryptonite. Trying to send emails, cards, texting on the appropriate occasions...these things drain me of my life force. Years ago I could keep up like a boss. Now? Not so much. My point is, Facebook was created for this purpose and to be a fun way of doing it.

Aside from this being an election year and watching Facebook become one gigantic political rant, bashing one or the other candidate and anyone who would dare to show support of either...I have noticed that it is being used for another, more pathetic purpose. External validation for the embarrassingly insecure middle aged fucktards of the world. The overwhelming need to shove every perceived success in everyone's faces in the hopes that they will read a multitude of comments filled with accolades and kudos and hearts and emoticon kisses...and excuse me for a moment, I just threw up a little in my mouth. Is it just me or does anyone else find this disgusting and sad? Can your self esteem be that low? Are you that fragile? Don't tell me, I really don't want to know. Without further rambling by me, here are some of the losers I have been noticing as of late:

1. Middle-aged Selfie Queens: You know who you are and you know you do it for one simple reason. To hear..."You're so PRETTY!" over and over on your comment thread, peppered in between with a few "You look SO good!" and several "You always look sooo beautiful!" bullshit, obligatory comments. Shedding light on this bit of stupidity, let me let you in on a little secret. No one thinks you look pretty. They are simply telling you what you want to hear because you took about 15 shots before you chose this one; you've used Photoshop and every other photography enhancing app/software you have to smooth, perfect, and erase any signs of ugly and aging; and then posted it large and in charge for all of us to see and fawn over. All to shore up your pitiful ego...at our expense! We now have your gigantic, over-posed, airbrushed face on our feed challenging us to ignore it. I have no problem ignoring it because I know exactly what you are doing and I don't give a flying fuck. While I may not tell you how ugly you actually are, I will not lie to you and tell you that you look like a model and haven't aged in 20 years. No one is worth that kind of bullshit. If I go to hell, and likely I will, it won't be for telling you how "pretty" you are on Facebook.

2. The Humble Brag: Don't even try to deny it. We have all seen your posts. Giant bouquet of flowers on your desk from your boss on Secretary's Day, captioned with, "Isn't he the best boss EVER?" Um, I should care why? Maybe he is nice person to have acknowledged such an auspicious occasion, but it isn't worth clogging my feed. Tell me he sent you on a cruise to Jamaica and I may be impressed. One of my all-time faves is the "My hubby made dinner tonight and let me put my feet up while he baby-sat the kids." Let me stop you there, steaming brain death, he is a parent and by virtue of that is not babysitting anyone. He is parenting his children as he fucking should! That is his job! Making dinner shouldn't be an occasion, and we will explore that later, because everyone has to eat. If you don't cook, and Mr. Suave isn't taking you and the brood out, someone has to cook...and why not him? He has two hands. Or another doozy happens when your kid gets into the Catholic high school in your area after having attended Catholic elementary for eight years and you are so impressed, you post about it. You do realize that unless your child has no perceptible brain function, you've paid the appropriate dues to get him or her into most of the Catholic schools in your neighborhood. You can always find one that will take little Johnny if you insist upon thrusting him into another four years of religious immersion. Please don't ask me to applaud your parenting and skilled child-rearing abilities. Unless you did all your child's work FOR them for four years, and maybe you did, you don't get the credit.

3. The Proud Momma: Your kid is the smartest, most athletic, most talented, and quite possibly the most stunning creature God has ever created. We know. You tell us almost every day, complete with photographic proof and your ever-so-clever descriptions of their amazing successes. Somehow I find it almost impossible to believe that your little angel has never mouthed off, been spiteful, hit his sibling, failed a test, struck out, or generically fucked something up. I am sure you will tell me that only microscopic infractions occur at your house and they are so adorable, you can't help but laugh and hug the little bugger. I call bullshit. Those of you with your daily proud momma moments are in possession of the biggest brats known to this planet. This is your way of coping with your parental failures. Highlighting shit you think the rest of us will be impressed enough with that we won't look deeper into the rest of your kiddo's day to also find out that she got detention for writing, "Mr. Jones Sucks Monkey Dick" on the bathroom wall. Once in a great while, be honest with us. Post of pic of your kid with messy hair and tell us that he got that way from jumping on the furniture when you told him not to and he fell...and you kinda laughed at him. I'd be proud of you.

4. Daily Dinner Poster: Ermagherd!!! You made dinner tonight! You looked up a recipe on Google and you followed it to the letter and it was the best thing you and your loving family have ever eaten...ever. So, Miss Good Housekeeping, are you feeling like you are America's Top Chef now? Why yes, yes you are because you posted again today. Look at that Hamburger Helper, would you? And you did it all by yourself? Holy fuck! Wonder Woman has nothing on you, girlfriend. Feeding your family, one dinner at a time. Lucky us, we get to watch it all unfold pictorially on our News Feeds. Oh thank you for sharing your kitchen escapades with the rest of us poor schlubs who cook on the sly, not sharing it with anyone but the actual people eating it. Not to rain on your parade, but you are one of many, who unlike you, cook for their families every night without telling us about it. The unsung heroes of the oven. Take notes, dipshit.

These are just a few of the jackoffs I have been seeing all over Facebook lately and knew you may have been feeling the same way about them, so I put it into words for all of us. Is it so hard to keep it real? Have we forgotten how to have fun? Does anyone know how to people anymore? Based on what I am noticing online, the answers are yes, yes, and big, fat NO. This is social media people, not a fucking competition! Some of us want to relax and be ourselves around people we want to keep in touch with...without exerting too much effort. Is that so hard to understand? Save your bragging shit for the other phony bitches you hang out with and keep it off Facebook or you might see your friend list dwindle rapidly. I am not the only person frustrated enough to go on an unfriending spree. Think I am full of shit? Are you friggin kidding me right now???

So Tired of the Double Standards!

Please tell me I'm not the only one who has noticed this shit running rampant in today's society. The prevalence of double standards has become utterly ridiculous and I am sick to fucking death of it. Ranging from half naked women in TV commercials to slut shaming our daughters for wearing "provocative" clothing such as leggings to high school, how the hell do we live in a society that can't get its bitching straight? We aren't sure what offends us, but goddamn it we are offended at every turn. Over-sensitive yet hyper-sexualized, we go through our days alternately drooling and getting pissed off at what is basically the same thing!

Let's explore the things that are perfectly fine to do and seemingly offend no one. Flip on your television and start counting the number of commercials that are geared toward horny 15-65 year old men. Anyone want a Carl's Jr. burger? Barely dressed and eating the burger like they are fellating the damned thing, these women are supposedly the customers at your local Carl's Jr. and want you to drive on over and order some fries with that deep throat, I mean Six Dollar Burger. First of all, ask yourself this question, are these the women at your local fast food restaurant? Certainly not at mine. These women aren't likely to be eating anything off those menus unless they come with a barf bag for immediate calorie disposal. Secondly, who do you think takes their children to these places and spends their cash at these places? Swarthy, sexy single men in search of these steamy women and fried food? Um, no. Moms, imperfect and human moms are the ones bellying up to the counter and ordering food for their hungry, screaming brood. Do men eat here? Sure. But why are we only targeting them in these ads? One single man comes in and orders a burger, fries, and a shake. Solid order. A mom comes in with her three kids and their three friends and orders lunch for all. Which order is making the restaurant more money? How about we start targeting hungry people instead of horny ones when we are trying to sell food? Horny people aren't in search of an order of fries. Just a point to ponder. On the flip side of that same corporation, when they do use men in their commercials, they are not only fully dressed, they are eating like slobs.Why the stark difference? Is this to appeal to the moms who want to clean him up, tell him to take smaller bites, and chew with his mouth closed? Right, didn't think so.

What have we learned from one simple commercial? That objectifying women is perfectly acceptable to attain corporate gain. We can treat women like sex toys on TV and in print ads as long as it sells our products and gets us some serious brand recognition. Hm. Do women not shop or spend money? Are we still kept by men and flitting about at home, worrying about what to make for hubby's dinner, washing the kids' faces, and reapplying lipstick right before the big, strong man comes home from work? Stop laughing, you'll piss your pants and blame me. Since this is clearly not the case, why aren't we seeing half naked men in Speedos, dripping with oil, and seductively licking a food item in order to convince us to buy the product being hawked in the commercial? Because we aren't viewed as the primary consumer of most goods. Ever notice that household goods are marketed differently? Cutesy, sometimes funny, and appealing to the mommy set...very targeted, yet very sexist. Based on this men get horny, but women want to nurture children and clean things. Seriously? We still think this way in 2016?

Here's where America confuses the shit out of me, and likely you, too. If it is acceptable to objectify women for corporate gain, then why can't our daughters dress the way they goddamn please? Why is it that they are accused of being too sexy and driving the boys to behave poorly? There are a few problems in this situation we've created. I have a daughter and understand wanting to protect our little girls. We should create a world that is safe for them to express their unique style in any way they choose without worrying about being touched or spoken to inappropriately. So, tell me why schools have made rules banning yoga pants and forcing girls to wear bras. If their bits are properly covered, why are we up in arms about girls dressing for comfort? Are we raising our sons to look at girls as eye candy instead of people? Why are they unable to control their impulses and boners when a pretty girls walks by in yoga pants and a t-shirt? We need to teach them that girls are their equal and deserve respect. Look them in the eye instead of the tits, and treat them like you would another guy...or your mother. When we enforce rules regarding the way girls dress and use the excuse that they are riling up the boys, we are leaving the door open to blame these same girls for "asking for it" when they are sexually assaulted.

I have a wild idea for you, so hold on to your hats because it's going to blow you away. How about we start treating girls and women with the same respect we would expect others to if they were our mothers, wives, sisters, or daughters? While we are at it, let's give allowing them the same freedoms that our boys enjoy at school, like dressing how the fuck they want without fear of repercussions or harassment a try. Thinking that double standards and retro backwater thinking is what will make America great or save our country from going down the toilet, is the same as voting for Trump. Who here thinks I'll be doing that on Election Day?  Are you friggin kidding me right now???

Put the Cream Back in My Creamer! Carrageenan is NOT the Devil.

Shall we first discuss the basics of coffee drinking without bringing up our favorite Starbucks or Peet's drinks? Dunkin vs Starbs...not interested. What I'd like to go over with you is the main reason we put some form of dairy/non-dairy product into our morning joe. TO MAKE IT SMOOTHER AND CREAMIER! Right. Now that I have your attention, and likely your full agreement, let's move on to the varying types of items you can put into your coffee to elicit that effect. There's good old cow's milk at all fat levels, including a favorite of mine, half and half. You can use non-dairy creamers like Coffee Mate if you prefer, and they even come in flavors! I'll admit to dipping into the seasonal flavors around Christmas time. Then there are the non-dairy nut alternatives, like coconut creamer and almond creamer. I love almond milk and coconut milk so these creamers were a no-brainer for someone like me. I'm in! All of these options, when used in your steaming hot cuppa, make it deliciously smooth.

Having used coconut creamer after discovering it at my local Sprouts, I stopped using every form of cow's milk in an attempt to avoid extra hormones skating through my already estrogen crazed body. Much to my excitement, this stuff was the shit! My coffee tasted so amazing with it, I quickly booted cow's milk out of the rotation and bought coconut creamer exclusively. Even my daughter caught the bug and began buying it for herself. My mornings were lovely and I looked forward to each cup I drank before heading out to work, and sometimes I would even grab a to-go cup for one more dose. This joy went on for years and once in a while, I would dip back into a flavored Coffee Mate around the holidays. I didn't even drink cow's milk with cookies! Almond milk, thank you. Until IT happened.

What the fuck could have happened that would have stopped this joy ride? What took the coconut creamer out of my fridge and forced it to be replaced with half and half? Not a spoiled container because that shit lasted forever! Nothing worse than curdled coffee, and coconut creamer never did me like that. No, this was far more evil and caused me to lose my fucking marbles because I didn't want back on the hormone train of dairy in my damn coffee. One fine day, I purchased a new container of coconut creamer, from Sprouts, as I always did, and brought it home to use immediately since I had run out. Upon pouring it into my coffee, I noticed that the color in my cup seemed off. I took a big sniff of the creamer and it smelled lovely. Ok, fine. It's not bad. I dumped out the cup, which in my world is a cardinal sin, and poured a fresh one. Tipping the creamer container slowly over my cup and watching it carefully for some clue as to why it made my coffee look wrong. Seeing nothing unusual, I tasted it after stirring for a long time, trying to make it the color it was supposed to be. Oh for fuck's sake, it tasted wrong, too! Then I noticed it. There were little white dots floating around on the surface of my beloved drink. What the fresh fuck was going on??? Well, I dumped that cup out and drank the next one black...and pissed off.

The next day, I bought another pint, hoping it was just a bad batch. Tested it out, and the same goddamn thing happened. What is happening? What kind of dark magic is this? Not one to take a situation at face value, I start reading the container. OH. MY. GOD. New formula. Now carrageenan free! Are you out of your fucking mind? Are you a window licking fucktard? Carrageenan is what makes the damn creamer CREAMY. It's a fucking emulsifier...it belongs there. Who decided this would be a good thing? Who is the ass munch and how do I get a hold of him to punch him in the throat? Totally furious and ready to skin alive the crotch stain who changed the formula, I started researching carrageenan. Well, as you may already know, it is made from edible red seaweed. Hm. We eat seaweed every time we have sushi. No one has made seaweed-free sushi. Plugging on, I see that some research indicated that it may cause inflammation, ulcerative colitis, and cancer...in lab rats. Um, ok. So, this gift from the heavens was removed from my beverage because some person found that it did nasty things to rodents?

Not just a person, but a doctor from the University of Illinois. Joanne Tobacman, associate professor of clinical medicine, claims that carrageenan elicits an immune response that causes inflammation...in lab rats. Before even continuing to discuss how stupid it is to use an animal whose internal organs are unlike humans, and mentioning that any time something is introduced to a lab animal to test it for negative reactions, they use 600 times the amount you would ever consume in a lifetime...let's dive into the form of carageenan this bitch was testing. I'm going drop some science, so dumb asses get ready to use Google. Carrageenan comes in two forms, degraded and undegraded. No, people aren't sexually harassing the stuff, it's what happens when it is broken down. Degraded carrageenan was being tested on these poor lab animals at volumes never used in any food product. Undegraded carrageenan is also known as FOOD GRADE. Wonder why? Because the FDA has a rigorous testing process that determines what ingredients are fucking safe to eat!

My coconut creamer and other non dairy food products were having this lovely red seaweed ingredient ripped out because of invalid research. The undegraded form does eventually degrade but never in the amount that could be considered a threat to human health. Why? Oh right, because the fucking FDA made sure of it when they approved the fucking stuff. Why do we dick with things that work? Has the news been filled with reports of people keeling over from intestinal pain after too much goddamn carrageenan? Are oncologists warning against coconut creamer? Were people getting the shits? What brought this panic on? Some stupid research that flies in the face of what the people keeping us from eating and dying all these years have found safe for us to ingest! Further research showed that it was not a carcinogen at all but "just to be safe" they were removing it from many non dairy products. Why do we succumb to irrational panic? Are we sheeple? What form of chimp logic tells you that if research is rebuked sufficiently, you still need to run screaming? For those still not convinced that it is safe, riddle me this...why is it still in ice cream, chocolate milk, and low fat yogurt?

My coffee is now graced with half and half and ever shall be until we either stop acting like irrational ass clowns or someone finds a new all-natural, organic, vegan, cruelty-free emulsifier to make coconut and almond creamer more palatable again. We have enough to worry about without researchers causing widespread agiation over something that has very little basis in fact and doesn't directly relate to human health. Do I care about the health and safety of the food I serve in my house? Of course I do. Am I going to sacrifice flavor due to the scare tactics of extremists and paranoid researchers? Are you friggin kidding me right now???

Overprotective Parents are Raising Unprepared Adults: Part One

When I first thought about this topic, I wanted to address the folks that still resided in my old neck of the woods. Almost daily on Facebook, there is some form of whining and expressions of discomfort about raising children in today's world coming from people I remember being far more badass than this. Life is too hard and scary ramblings are causing me to slowly lose my fucking mind. Never was there a day in my life that I felt like basic first world problems would provide a gigantic stumbling block which would prevent me from living a happy life. Yet, as I looked at these complaints online, I started to wonder if I was being too harsh. Quickly, I had determined that not only was I not being too harsh, but I discovered that it wasn't only those who originally hailed from my old stomping grounds. It's all of you! What in the hell happened to being grown ass people with testicular fortitude, common sense, and the ability to let the bullshit roll off our backs so we can focus on the real meat of life? More specifically, my real question is this...why have we become such a soft, easily frightened, overly offended, hyper protective society? Furthermore, does anyone who fits this description think we are doing our children a favor by behaving like this?

While there are so fucking many areas where this type of veal-creating nonsense is prevalent, I have a select few that I'd like to bring to your attention. Beginning with the cries of fear that their delicate little flowers will be injured at the park or on the playground. Constantly looking for what they feel are saftey infractions, these moms will rant and rave about how there isn't enough cushioning underneath the play structures, and ask Jesus and whoever else why the slides are so hot and the openings at the top of the slide aren't barricaded to prevent falls. And OMG, the monkey bars are so high and the sides of the sandbox have spaces for little fingers to get caught!!! Committees are formed and meetings are held. Letters are written to the appropriate board of playground vealification and families are up in arms. How can we take our children outside to play  in carefully selected playgroups with children who have been pre-screened and vetted by a panel of experts and proven to be perfectly matched if the goddamn playgrounds are fucking landmines of peril?

Hold on there, Sally Safety! Didn't you grow up in the same era that I did? Correct me if I am wrong, and I don't believe that I am, but didn't you slide down metal slides in August while wearing shorts? Those of us over 40 certainly recall the slide burns on the backs of our thighs that didn't stop us from climbing the ladder and doing it again and again. We eventually cooled off the surface with our asses and had fun. Who among you hasn't fallen off the jungle gym, while hanging upside down from your knees onto the concrete below? I daresay everyone my age has done some variation on this theme. We even, GASP, stood up on swings and jumped off while mid-swing! Can you imagine doing this in front of today's parents? A fleet of ambulances would have to be called to take the crowd of unconscious mommies who've just suffered a cardiac event to the nearest hospital.

Skinned elbows, banged up chins, chipped teeth, twisted ankles...we have all felt the roughness of the concrete tearing through our flesh and pounding our bones as we fell from what would now be considered a perilous height while playing. Those of us who have experienced this bit of pain also learned what not to do the next time we went to the park. This type of education, otherwise known as acqurining common sense, can only happen when you are allowed to make mistakes. You cannot learn from the mistakes you haven't made and you can't become stronger and wiser if you go through life surrounded by padding and barriers. How will you know not to climb quite so high if you don't fall and figure out that it hurt like a fucker? Because mommy said so? Um, no. That's why kids test boundaries in the first place...to figure out how far they can push. How high can I climb? How far can I jump and still land on my feet? How fast can I go without winding up in the ER getting a cast? Maybe it will take several casts and many, many stitches before some will have developed this life skill. A few will seemingly never learn as children, but will apply this knowledge later on in adulthood.

Think for a moment and tell me why our kids can no longer go anywhere unattended. Why can't they take a bus or train to reach a destination? Heaven forbid they ride a bike or walk to a friend's house to play. Is the world really that different? We hear about the tragedies that befall children on the news only because they are being made more visible to the public. Shit happened all the time when we were kids. Doesn't anyone recall the warnings about vans hanging out by our schools and making sure you walked to and from school with a friend? I do. I remember having nightmares about it, but what I don't recall was anything in my life changing due to my mom's irrational fear of allowing me to leave the house alone. That's because she didn't have it. She knew that she taught me well, gave me all the tools I needed, and had allowed me to make my way in the great, wide world on foot from a young age. Crazies have existed since the dawn of time, we just didn't have their diagnoses to elicit paranoid responses. We went about our lives, playing in the streets or in the schoolyards, no grown ups to be found. And somehow, some way, we managed to return home when it started to get dark. We even took buses and trains to school that were not yellow and did not have SCHOOL BUS plastered across the sides. Public transportation all by ourselves. We'd meet our friends and pile on these clunky, dirty buses together. Riding to school on the same buses that actual adults were on, trying to get to work. And we were just fine. We'd return home the same way, in one piece and unharmed. Shocking!

There are so many more topics I'd like to discuss with you, but I want you to have the time and opportunity to digest what I have said today. The point here is this, we can't protect our children from life and nor should we if we want to send them out into the world as safe, independently functioning adults. How many of you would like your children living with you at age 35 with no foreseeable move out date? Show of hands. Right. I didn't think so. We are the adults we are, scars and all, because we were permitted to fall, to fuck up, to get hurt. There are no band aids big enough to cover the giant wound you are creating in your child's future adult self by preventing him from learning the hard way at least once in a while. Am I that parent? Are you friggin kidding me right now???

Stick a Fork in Me, I am Done with Political Correctness!

Am I alone in thinking that we have taken political correctness, or being PC, too goddamn far? We've spent so much time and effort on being worried about offending others, we've lost our sense of reality. Why are we so concerned? During any given day, do you truly believe that the folks you are trying not to upset are wandering around, holding themselves tightly, brows furrowed, searching for ways to make sure your fragile little ego remains stroked and feeling safe? If you do, you are an asshole. In all likelihood, they couldn't give a fetid shit less. Most of us go about our days worrying about number one...maybe a few family members, but that is as far as it tends to stretch. Yet, one person calls someone Oriental instead of Asian and you'd think the world stopped spinning on its axis! What the fuck is wrong with us?

Here's where we go horribly wrong with our struggle towards the land of PC Perfection...making shit up in an attempt to not offend. The other day, on the news, I heard the newscaster use the term "Muslim-American" to describe the shooters in the San Bernadino tragedy. First of all, are we worried about offending people that went into a facility and killed a large group of people? People with zero regard for human life...these are the people whose feelings we are trying to protect? What the fuck am I missing here? Why the hell do we care so much? Fear? Fear that if we use the wrong term, someone will hurt us? I refuse to live that way. And if you choose to have a paranoid existence, leave me the hell out of it. Back in the day, oh around 1978 or so, do any of you remember being concerned about how to describe someone to one of your friends or relatives? Were you oh-so-careful to use proper terminology and tried really hard to not hurt anyone's feelings? If you say yes, you are a liar! If you say no, join the rest of us on this side of normal and grab a beer. It just wasn't done! You called it as you saw it and that was that. Not so now.

Inventing terminology to classify humanity due to irrational fear has to be the most fucktarded thing we do in 2015. Far more ridiculous than twerking or selfies, this trend of "ethnic invention" has gone out of fucking control. Let's go back to the term "Muslim-American" for a moment. Since when have we ever included someone's religion in their ethnic background to convey who they are to someone else? In my lifetime, no one has ever referred to me as a Catholic American, nor do I want anyone to do so. What I believe or don't believe has nothing to do with my heritage. The same goes for the term Muslim American...Muslim is a religion, not a race or ethnicity. This distinction is borne out of hate and fear, nothing more. We are categorizing people by religion out of hatred. Is this who we've become? Apparently so, and I am disgusted by all of you who use these terms.

Let's look at the terms African American and Asian. Can we actually hail from an entire continent? Do black people claim roots in everywhere from Libya and Egypt all the way through the Congo and Eritrea? Come now...really? Does the person you are referring to as Asian have relatives who are Pakistani, Russian, Afghani, and Iranian? Or are you speaking about someone who is Chinese...or Vietnamese, perhaps? By extension of this, you could call me European American. Do it and I'll punch you in the throat. Why? Because I have no relatives who come from Sweden, Scotland, Greece, or Latvia. No, I cannot be called European American, that would be a false as fuck statement and completely not descriptive of who I actually am. Once again, these terms I started the paragraph with came from a fear of offending others and from people deciding they no longer "liked" the words used to describe them.

Going a step further, and likely to piss a shit ton of you off, shall we examine the black/white distinction? I am willing to step on this potential land mine to make some very valid points and to attempt to correct our stupidity as a whole. I completely understand that some people do not want to be called a color, such as black. No one is truly the color black, now are they? On this, we can all agree. We needed a better term, a more accurate word. I get it. And let's face it, negro is just black in Spanish. Again, an inaccurate color. However, and I am gonna get some backlash now, and I really don't care...I am not WHITE. Grab a piece of paper from your printer. That shit is white. I am not that friggin color. I am nowhere near that shade, nor do I relate to it in any way. As a matter of fact, Italians are not completely white, by census standards. If you look into our heritage, southern Italians, in particular, we have...wait for it...AFRICAN blood in us. By African, I mean Arab African, but African nonetheless. So, then, do I check the African American box on a government form? Because, if I trace my lineage as far back as it could possibly go, I know for certain that I will find some African connections. But some of you will tell me I can't. Why? I know some people who would try to check that same box and speak fluent Italian and have, as do their parents, Italian birth certificates. Yet, in this country, we'd call them African American? Why the fuck?

Are we seeing how ridiculous this is starting to sound? Not yet? If so, I am not nearly done. We can agree that people should not be referred to by a color name in a box of Crayolas. That being the case, how do we refer to each other? How about by name? Not possible always, so we need another way. We have determined that religion is not the way...what now? I suppose we can just cover all the bases to be safe and not crack the shells of the fragile egos that seem to exist in our world today. Let's see if I can do it for myself so I don't dare hurt another human. I'd be a Female Heterosexual Catholic Fair-skinned Freckled Blue-eyed Redheaded European Italian North American Canadian North American New York Born California Residing American. Did I cover it all? Was anyone offended? Show of hands, please. Imagine, if you will, trying to repeat this to someone after just meeting me and wanting to relay information about me. Could you even remember it all? If I closed this document, I couldn't either. Thus proving, this manner of distinction, this way of categorizing people, has got to stop. We are who we are: human fucking beings. All of us. But if you want to go out there and describe me to someone, I'll accept...she's an American woman. Accurate as hell, don't you agree? And I promise to be as succinct about you. We can't be that stupid...are you friggin kidding me right now???

The Perimenopause Expert is In, Part Two

Ladies, I wouldn't leave you in your time of need! If only I could tell you that it gets easier, if only I could tell you the symptoms drop off one by one, leaving you feeling wonderfully renewed. I can't and I won't lie to you. I can honestly say that each of these symptoms pertain to me personally and I know all of you are feeling the same. My goal here is to make sure you know that you are never alone in this shit storm and not only am I here with you, I am holding the umbrella for both of us. Why we were chosen to stomp through what can only be described as soggy crap fields filled with pain and angst at an age when we should be feeling our best, is beyond my scope of imagination. At this point in our lives, since our children are older and self-sufficient, we should be able to return to that freedom we enjoyed pre-motherhood. Or at least you'd hope. But the raging bitch that is perimenopause has other plans for us. While men are opening up another button to expose their graying chest hair and driving around in their poorly chosen mid-life-mobiles, we are in the throes of something that would kill someone with a Y chromosome within a week, max.

Without further stuff and blather, I present to you more bullshit you may be enduring at this very moment:

11. Hot Flashes: In previous blogs, I have mentioned these little infernos of joy, but I would like to expand upon their life altering potential, if I may. It's one thing to feel hot. Many men think they feel hot and will joke that they are having a hot flash. At which point, I am forced to suppress an urge to plunge a knife deeply into their left ventricles and watch them bleed out like slaughterhouse pigs. Hot flashes are not a subject men are allowed to laugh about, nor can they ever claim they have felt anything close. There are actually different forms, as I have been lucky enough to discover!
       -There's the "average hot flash" which is basically the sensation of boiling from the inside out that generally starts at the collarbone, wraps around your circumference, and rises like flames all the way to the top of your head. This little beauty can and usually does result in some pretty copious amounts of sweat, causing you to be "that" woman, yanking your hair into a hand-held ponytail with one hand and fanning the back of your neck with the other. Sometimes running to the freezer for a brief yet satisfying arctic blast to the face. Good times.
       -Next, I've experienced the "clown cheeks hot flash" which is self-explanatory, yet I'd like to go a few steps further. Not only do your cheeks blaze a bright and embarrassing red seemingly out of nowhere, but if you are tuned in to your body, and most of us are while enduring the bliss of perimenopause, you will notice the feeling long before you are lucky enough to have someone point out that your cheeks make you look like Bozo. I usually compare the sensation to the heat I feel when I have a fever and my face just feels abnormally warm. That. These are my personal favorites because I do love being able to be outed as having a hot flash by anyone and everyone who happens to look my way.
      -The final form I've embraced in my world, is the "night sweat hot flash" which again, is self-explanatory. But why the hell not expand once again? Not just the feeling of needing to toss off (not the tossing off that men do when they think we haven't a clue) the comforter and leave the nice, cool sheet on to sleep comfortably. Oh no. This is the waking up feeling like someone dumped water all over you. Or in my case, dumped water all over my top half and needing to change my clothes. My answer to this little burst of happiness is to tear off my sleep tee and go back to bed on top of the covers till my temperature normalizes and I am freezing again.
Funny little aside, I actually have taken my temperature at the peak of a flash, only to discover that I spike a "fever" during one. My normal body temperature is usually between 97.8 and 98.2, +/- a tenth. My hot flash temperature was a blazing 100.4!!! Have mercy!

12. Apathy: Yes, you read that correctly. On any normal day, I give less than a shit about most things. Bring on perimenopause and watch that feeling dip to numbers in the negative. Even things I usually have passion for can sometimes seem like the most unappealing items on the menu of life. Why? Because my hormones suck rhino balls and they are what control my moods. For someone like me, you may think this is really no big deal. She's generally apathetic, anyway, what's the difference? Fucking huge. Generally, I care about what is really important and things over which I have some degree of control. Add some hormonal shift, and BAM. Even those things seem out of my grasp and I stop giving a fetid shit althogether. This is a problem of great magnitude when you have a job, a family, a life that you used to enjoy, for the most part. I know you ladies know exactly what I am referring to and you can't seem to shake the "who gives a fuck" feeling, either. This is where wine and I bond closely some evenings. Not a medically supported answer, but then, I'm not a doctor.

13. Nightmares: When I was a small child, I had serial nightmares. They were horrifying, I couldn't wake up, and they caused me to sleep with a blanket over my head years after they had ceased to plague me. My security blanket, which I still have, tucked away in my daughter's now unused closet, was the one thing that helped me sleep for all those years. I'm considering taking her out and using her superpowers all over again. Weird fucking dreams come when you least expect them, or so you think. Pay attention. Mine usually rear their ugly heads right before and during my blood flood days. Coincidence? I think not. Strange dreams that are clearly a rehash of all the things that cause me stress in the waking hours, manifesting themselves as images that can only be compared to the best of the best "slash and gash" B movies. Fortunately, I usually kick ass at the end of each of these little brain cinemas, unlike when I was a child. Unfortunately, I cannot wake up out of them, and this generally causes me to wake tired and semi-rattled. Thank you, estrogen, you cuntbucket.

14. Aches/Leg Cramping/Weakness: I'm just going to lump these little bits of ecstasy together because to me, they are all part of the same phenomenon. All of these symptoms seem to point to some sort of muscular trouble. Some mornings, I wake up feeling like I'm 80 years old with arthritis. Everything snaps and cracks with my morning stretch and I haven't even left the bed. Attempting to haul my bodacious ass out of the bed becomes another hurdle. As I sit at the edge of my bed wondering why the fuck I need to be up, I start to feel the leg cramping and more widespread aches. Why? Who the hell knows? What I do know, what sticks in my craw, is that this never used to happen. I'm not old for the love of all things good and holy. Why should I feel ancient? Oh, perimenopause, you assbag, this is another gift you've chosen to bestow upon me. I limp down the stairs, brew coffee, pour a cup to bring back up to the shower with me, and clomp into the shower to let the hot water beat on all the sore parts. Sometimes it works, sometimes it just feels good while I'm still in the shower. I don't get to choose the outcome. The leg weakness, I believe, is related to the gallons of blood loss I experience during my crime scene periods. This is why I take ridiculous amounts of iron all month long. I have noticed a slight change in that issue, but before you jump on that bandwagon, consult your medical practicioner. I'm not taking responsibility for diagnosing nor prescribing anything. Fuck that. I've got enough going on, or haven't you figured that out yet?

15. Itching: Not only have I seen this on all the perimenopause group timelines, but I have experienced it myself. I had attributed it to stress and perhaps it was stress. I was trying to meet a deadline for something which brought me no joy but had to be done, and I started itching. Not just your run of the mill little itch. I got tiny little bumps on my shoulders and arms and was scratching myself like a rabid animal. Actually afraid that I'd make myself bleed, I chose to soak in a bath with some Aveeno colloidal oatmeal for a bit and see if it helped. Like everything else, it was temporary and the itching and bumps continued. I've only itched like this during periods of great stress, so I figured that was all it was this time. Well, as time marches on, and I am under no real or imagined stress, I still feel itchy as fuck. I moisturize, I use lotion like it's going out of style, I take care of my goddamn skin. Why am I itchy? Oh come on. We both know the answer to this one. Perimenopause. Bless her little black and chalky heart.  This is just another treasured symptom and there's not a thing you can do. Luckily, it comes and goes or I'd go bat shit crazy. Keep your nails short and keep some unscented, hypoallergenic lotion always at hand.

16. Cravings and constant grazing: Like you're pregnant or something, GOD FORBID! In my case, anyway. I am hungry all freaking day long. My coffee habit and constant water drinking usually help to curb the incessant desire to fill my piehole with food. Thankfully, or I'd be the most zaftig bitch on the block. Sure, I'd rock it, but I'll pass, thanks. Throughout the day, I am seeking out snacks and munchies, savory and sweet. It really doesn't matter, I just want to chew. And chew, and chew, and chew. Generally, I don't eat too much crap, which is a blessing. But I have always been a volume eater (I'm Italian...sue me), and this can be problematic. Not one to eat a bite or two and move on, I need a plateful to satisfy the urge, the need, the fucking uncontrollable craving to eat. Why not add this to the list of fun and games during a time where weight shift and a creeping metabolism are at their peak? What I enjoy most about the way I attempt to control the hunger, drinking, is that the need to pee goes through the roof. And now, coughing, sneezing, or laughing are potential hazards. Outstanding! A lose/lose situation all the way around...and aren't they all during this phase of life?

Once again, I find myself at the end of another joyous share-fest about my favorite topic in the world. My sincere hope is that you've found some solace in knowing that you have a friend out there and she's as miserable as you are and can still laugh about it. So should you. Step back and just look at all this...we are all going through this and we are going to come out on the other end even stronger. How can I say this? My mom went through menopause at 40, right after her hysterectomy and I have her as my point of reference. What a fucking point of reference. Yes, I watched her mood swings, hot flashes, and other lovely symptoms play themselves out...sometimes at my expense. But ladies, this is where I can give you hope. When it was all over, and it does end, she was amazing and dare I say it, even more badass than before from the experience. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger. Damn straight it does. She was living proof, and with all of you as my witnesses, I will be, too. Don't doubt it for a minute that you'll join me. I don't. Are you friggin kidding me right now???


For more reading enjoyment on this topic:

The Perimenopause Expert is In

Why Perimenopause Sucks Moldy Balls

Perimenopause Still Sucks Moldy Balls, Four Years Later

Smart Answers to Dumb Questions About Perimenopause