Facebook Buttons We Really Need

Off your meds-A while back, there was talk of Facebook developing a “dislike” button. I really don’t think we need a button like that. It’s not because I’m Suzy Sunshine and I think the world has enough dislike or anything unicorn and glittery like that. I just think that a dislike button is not specific enough. We need Facebook buttons for a variety of posts that make us want to hate everyone and delete the Facebook app. I thought of four just sitting here drinking my basic white girl pumpkin latte.

OH THE DRAMA! — This button could be used when one of your “friends” posts yet another long tirade about how the world is against him or her. These people always have some kind of trashy reality show level happenings in their lives. They always SAY they hate drama, but continue to wave their crazy flag as if a big puppet master forced them to spaz out.

NOT BULLIED – Some people are bullied, and that sucks. If someone uses mental or physical intimidation to make someone’s life a living hell, they are a bully. We can all agree on that. In social media, the term bully is overused. So, if someone spray paints “fat bitch” on your garage, you have been bullied. If someone declines your invitation to dinner, you have NOT been bullied. You have been rejected. Shit happens. Get over it.

OFF YOUR MEDS? — This one is for when your “friend”  “likes” pages that he or she used to hate, or all of the sudden invites you to a number of Jamberry or Mary Kay virtual parties. A similar version called “Get on Some Meds” could also be used for our friends in the Drama and Not Bullied groups.

NOPE — This one is for when people post videos of hang gliding, zip lining, eating raw octopus, or holding huge snakes. Nope. Nope. Nope. And Nope.

Since I only had one shot of espresso in my coffee that is all I could think of. I figured there had to be more necessary Facebook buttons, so I asked some Facebook friends to share their ideas. Here is what they had to say:


“Rolled my eyes so hard gave myself a migraine.”

“Unbunch your knickers.”

Alex F.


“You’re an idiot.”
“Please don’t reproduce.”

Julie M.


“Do you think I give a rat’s ass?”

Jackie C.



“How’s that working for you?”

Eric B.


“Check your Privilege.” (For clueless folks complaining about minimum wage workers and not CEO salaries)

Cristal K.


“Are you for real?”

Suzanne R.


“Stop trying to sell me shit!”
“Stop tagging me in passive-aggressive ‘thanks for being my friend’ posts designed to praise me and punish others and vice-versa.”
“Why would you post this racist bullshit after shouting ‘amen’ when my husband preached on Sunday about fighting racism with our Middle-Eastern Jewish friend Jesus?”

Molly S.


“You’re not a victim.”

Amy M.


“I was there; it wasn’t that good.”

“We get it. Your husband adores you.”

“That isn’t what you said about her the last time you talked trash.”

“I secretly hate you, but it would make for a socially awkward relationship if I don’t hit the like button.”

“Congratulations On That Ugly Kid!”

Jamie C.


My friends and I have thought of a lot of Facebook buttons, but I bet there are more. Grab your coffee, or whisky, or whatever helps you think, and post your most needed Facebook button in the comment section.

Living in Deliverance

I’m a neat freak. I love cleaning and getting rid of trash. So, I was just going through all of my blog files, and I found this little gem.  By gem I mean you might hate me after you read it.  When I first published it on my old Salon blog about five years ago, my entire book club, even that one other liberal person who had the misfortune of living in a bright red state, told me what an asshole I was for picking on hunters.  So, I thought I would be an even bigger asshole and publish it again.

A frigging winter wonderland!

A frigging winter wonderland!

In the style of Sophia Petrillo, picture it, Fort Wayne Indiana, 2010.


I feel like I should hear banjos whenever I leave the house. The sound track for this town should just be an endless stream of banjos, played by people with straw hanging out of their mouths, firmly lodged between their two front teeth. Seriously, living in Fort Wayne, IN, when you’ve been brought up in a larger city, one with arts, culture and a real airport can be challenging. We moved here for the husband’s job, but secretly I came here looking for Mayberry, and got a whole other kind of stereotypical town, without the warmer climate and southern charm.

South Florida had gotten too gritty, too ghetto and too foreign. It just wasn’t the place it used to be. So, when the job opportunity popped up for my husband, I fully supported a move up north. We first got here in January of 2007, and it was a winter wonderland. There was glistening snow everywhere, and our neighbors brought us cookies when we moved in. Stuff like this just didn’t happen “back home”. At first, I loved it here.

I remember the first time I saw a child’s picture in the paper holding up the head of a dead deer with a rifle laying next to him. I was horrified. If my son killed an animal, I would punish him, not put it in the paper. My friends who have been brought up in the Midwest tell me that this is common. It’s common to hunt, and common to take children hunting. It’s common to congratulate them when they kill something. Seriously?

Months later, while looking at a new friend’s Facebook page, I saw that she had a picture of her young daughter holding a gun and a dead turkey. Seriously? This is such a foreign concept to a South Florida girl. We don’t go hunting. We go dancing and shopping. We go to the beach and the deli, the REAL deli, not McAlister’s or Big Apple Bagels.

In today’s paper, someone from the ASPCA wrote in to support a ban on “penning” foxes and coyotes. I had no clue what they were talking about until I read the entire letter. Man, was I horrified. I’m pasting a link here, but, in a nutshell, some goobers in this country, in an effort to train their huntin’ dawgs, capture foxes and coyotes and put them in a fenced area. Then, probably after they crack open a fine can of Old Milwaukee, they release the dogs. The dogs, of course, beat the crap out of the foxes and coyotes. When they are done with them, if the wild animals are still alive, they simply dump the animals in a wooded area and leave them to die. http://www.humanesociety.org/issues/fox_penning/

These are probably the same people who beat their wives and children and scratch their privates in public. Seriously! Why would anyone want to hunt and or torture animals FOR FUN.   Is there nothing good on the Dish network?   No Mountain Dew sponsored sporting events to watch?

Yes, I eat meat, and yes I get where it comes from. If I HAD To go kill my own dinner, I would be a vegan. The good news is that I don’t HAVE to kill anything because there are these things called grocery stores. Yes, a new concept I know. No one HAS to kill their own food as we are not out on the prairie or trapped in The Hunger Games.

Please tell me where I have to live because I really do not fit in here. Is there an internet quiz I can take or something?



54 Sorta Free Band Names

Rock on!

Rock on!

If you know us in real life or on the social interwebs, you know that my husband and I are dorks. We understand this and own it with pride. So, as nerds, we have our own little inside jokes and games. One of them is coming up with band names. Now, these band names have come up naturally in conversations. We don’t sit down and TRY to create band names. If we did, they would probably suck. Since these come up naturally, without much thought at all, they are awesome. Anyway, here are the names we have come up with so far:

  1. Just a Cookie
  2. Big Girls and Scrappy Guys
  3. Dog Water
  4. Redneck Jeremy
  5. Bright Nurses
  6. Jenny and a Milk Dud
  7. Pleasant Pineapple
  8. My Little Buzzer
  9. Rocket Snatch
  10. Burping Tartar Sauce
  11. Old White Undies
  12. Corporate Cannabis
  13. Pretending to Care
  14. Incredibly Silent
  15. Two Freaky Virgos
  16. Drunken Barefoot Bike Ride
  17. One-Eared Lola
  18. White Lennon
  19. Purple Phoenix
  20. Elephant Culture
  21. Nine Piles of Excrement
  22. Shitload of Sunflowers
  23. Too Late for Church
  24. Sappy Girl
  25. Harmless Snot
  26. Happy Pussy
  27. Scooter Brigade
  28. Coal-Eyed Drunk
  29. Some Kinda Muffins
  30. Late Day Coffee
  31. Third World Appeal
  32. Mr. Rickets
  33. Shaky Biscuit
  34. Consistent Annoyance
  35. Unnatural Water
  36. Colored Water
  37. Chasing Wine
  38. Running From Trash
  39. Snot Fuckers
  40. Girls on a Rail
  41. The Full-On Liquid Squirts
  42. Stink-Eye Road
  43. Gothy Cross
  44. Cheaper Than Gas
  45. Other People’s Piss
  46. Chasing the Sun
  47. Manual Material Movement
  48. No Business Wearing Spandex
  49. Gypsy Shotgun Wedding
  50. Side-Stepping Grandma
  51. Gimped Out
  52. Greasy Autograph
  53. Star Snatch
  54. Internal Dice

If you are in a band, and need a good name, feel free to use any of our creations. Just send us a royalty check every month. After all, we are creative geniuses and all. If you have any good band names, leave them in the comments. We could start a band naming business together. I bet it would get us on the Today Show.   Matt Lauer, are you reading this?

Kim Davis, Mockingjay for Morons

Kim Davis, the mockingjay for morons everywhere, is back at work and claiming she will not approve any gay marriage licenses. She says she will not go against her conscience because as a Christian she cannot possibly allow two people who love each other to get married simply because of their gender. This makes no sense at all. Wasn’t Jesus all about love?

I’m an atheist, and I am not a Biblical scholar, but I have read the Bible here and there when I was younger. I was forced to go to vacation Bible school for a couple of summers when I was in elementary school. I had to study some passages when I was baptized as a college student. I attended a Lutheran school for kindergarten and first grade. So, I’m not totally ignorant about this Jesus fellow and his teachings, but some of his followers are.

I have friends who are Christians, and they are not idiots. So, I know it is not the religion itself that makes some people become jerks for Jesus. Jesus has been transformed into something different than the hippie like person I learned about years ago. Somehow, conservatives have managed to change Jesus into a gun toting, gay hating redneck.

It’s not limited to Kim Davis. There’s Westboro Baptist church, a church so hateful and judgmental that they even dislike Kim Davis due to her multiple marital failings and out of wedlock babies. At least they are pointing out what a hypocrite she is when it comes to being the overlord of traditional marriage. There’s Mike Huckabee, who claims that “Christian convictions are under attack” because gay marriage was legalized. There’s Ted Cruz who thinks, “It’s the job of the chaplain to be insensitive to atheists.” I could go on and on, but you get the point. There are a lot of idiots out there speaking for Christians, and these are the people who get the most media time.

I understand that train wreck television is entertaining. I admit that I watch all of the Bachelor shows. But when it comes to the news, the real, factual (we hope) news, the entertainment value should not be a consideration. The moderate Christians need to change this. They need to step forward and put an end to the tobacco chewing, mechanical bull riding Jesus, and bring back the loving and peaceful Jesus I heard about in Bible stories. Yes, I do think they are just stories, but like many other works of literature, there are lessons to be learned, and hate is not one of those lessons.



Funny Offline Bathroom Reading

Do you read in the bathroom? Don’t lie to me. You are probably reading this on the john right now. You’re reading it on a tiny smart phone screen, right?

Or maybe you like to read in the carpool line while waiting for your little darlings.  Though it’s tough because you can never read a lot as you have to keep moving your car.  Reading and driving, especially near small children, is frowned upon.

Or maybe you need something quick and light-hearted to read before going to be.  I mean, you tried reading Stephen King novels at night, but it tends to keep you awake and staring into that one menacing shadow in the corner.

You guys, I have a book for you.  It is the book version of this blog.  It’s not the WHOLE blog, and there are a few stories that have not appeared on the blog.  Each entry is short and funny, or at least I meant it to be funny. Some people take me very seriously.

If this sounds like a book you would want, click on the picture to buy it.  It comes in paperback and Kindle versions.  If you read it, please do leave me a review on Amazon and Goodreads.

Yes, that is me on the cover. DO NOT judge. It was the 70’s and I was 8.

PettyThoughts cover

Go F Off, Go Fund Me.

My head is going to explode if I see ONE MORE Go Fund Me request on the interwebs. There are approximately 8,435,927 requests for cash daily. Seriously. It’s getting super annoying. EVERYONE has a Go Fund Me for something. Some Go Fund Me requests are legit. Unexpected and tragic expenses warrant a Go Fund Me. Most other things do not. For most of them, I want to say, “Go F yourself!” Here are just a few examples of Go Fund Me posts I have seen on Facebook, along with my silent in my head only responses. I DO filter myself sometimes.


My loved one died suddenly and I need help with expenses.

Yes. Unexpected death can bring unexpected expenses. It happened in our family when my little brother died at age 35. My step mother was not prepared for this emotionally or financially. So, someone started a Go Fund Me for her.


My loved one died and I want to buy a brick, statue, etc with his or her name on it.

No. What the hell kind of nonsense is this? What is a piece of cement going to do for anyone?


My loved one died and I want to donate to a foundation that helps to prevent deaths like this.

Yes. This is actually useful. It could help other families avoid the tragedy you experienced.


I want to be a model and need to pay $3, 457 to have professional pictures taken.

Nope. Have your boyfriend take pictures and use Photoshop or iPhoto to edit them. Send them to agents. In other words, do the work yourself.


My kid is going to New York City on a field trip and I need $2,459.62 to send her.

Nope. I didn’t get my jollies the night your child was conceived, so I’m not obligated to pay for your kid’s field trips, or anything else. The kids should have a car wash or sell cupcakes to raise money like we did back in the day.


My kid is raising money to help other kids with cancer.

Yes. Absolutely. And give your kid a hug from me. Also, you are an amazing parent.


I’m writing a book and I want to publish and promote it. Can you help me with some cash? 

Nope. I’m writing a book, too. I would love for other people to fund my creative endeavors. I dream of spending my days writing and napping like Stephen King. You know what I do instead? I work a full time job and a part time job so that my family can eat and stuff. Buck up, drink some coffee, and write in the early morning like I always plan to do but never actually do.


I have a cyst in my brain and I need an expensive operation that my insurance won’t cover, or I don’t have insurance.

Yes. This is happening to a friend of mine right now. I will gladly donate to his fund.


I’m a musician and I need money to record an album.

Nope. You know how you could get money to record an album? Get a fucking job. It’s what my son and his band mates did.


I have cancer and I can’t work. I need help with my medical expenses and my bills.

Yes. No one chooses to have cancer, even if they smoke like a locomotive. Working while that ill can be impossible.


My daughter is raising money to donate to our local animal shelter.

Yes. So many animals are homeless because douchenozzles out there insist on buying animals from breeders or breeding their own animals. Stop being a dumbass and get pets spayed and neutered, and adopt from shelters instead of breeders. We don’t need to breed more pets.

Ugh. I am very passionate about animals, as you can tell.

I think you get the point. I’m not going to fund anyone’s creative dreams or useless piece of concrete. I’m not going to help someone else’s kid go on a trip.  I have my own kid that I take care of. I would help a sick friend in need or a foundation that helps people and animals.


What about you? Have you contributed to a Go Fund Me? What made you want to contribute? Have you seen any RIDICULOUS Go Fund Mes?

Let me hear from you in the comments section.


Messy Marriott, (Scr)Universal, and Darling Disney

My family and I just got back from a tour of most of the theme parks in Orlando. This involved me putting on A LOT of sunscreen, real pants and a bra, and leaving my beloved cats for a week. It is always tough for a hermit to leave home. So, I tried to book a homey hotel room. I failed.

Mythos was the only place we got our money's worth in Scruniversal.

Mythos Restaurant was the only place we got our money’s worth in Scruniversal.

We chose a Marriott Residence Inn because my husband is like a mega platinum Marriott traveler, or whatever they call them. Plus, they had a two-bedroom suite with a pullout couch in the living room (we took our 18 year old son and his girlfriend on the trip). Usually we love Marriott but this one was a train wreck. The stairwell had a melted candy bar on the floor for three consecutive days—and you can imagine what that looked like after three days in the Florida heat. In our room, one toilet didn’t flush properly (even after the maintenance crew came in to fix it), the tub was full of hair from who knows how many people and didn’t drain properly, there was a busted out window screen, and the garbage disposal didn’t work. Our room was only half cleaned at best on most days, and apparently towels and toiletries are on demand items—they took the used ones but didn’t replace with new. And yes, we did leave a tip every day. When we gave the person at the desk our list of complaints he said, “Well, this is a franchise so you can’t expect the same quality. The corporate owned ones are still top notch but the franchises are looking to just cut costs.” For real? Marriott needs to pull the franchise from this dirty place. To their credit, the hotel did comp us two nights—but remember the Hertz commercials with the slogan, “There is Hertz, and there is not exactly”? To quote my husband’s old boss, this was a “not exactly” experience.

One of the other reasons we stayed at the Marriott Residence Inn is because we were going to Disney AND Universal. So, we didn’t want to stay on property at one place or another and selected a hotel that was in between the parks. Both groups of parks have their good and bad sides. Universal has Harry Potter land, so that is why we wanted to go. It also has larger roller coasters, which my husband loves. The down side is that I had to rename them ScrUniversal because they love to screw you over.

Like most Type-A individuals, I booked this theme park vacation MONTHS ahead of time. When I went on line a few months before our trip to purchase Universal tickets, I was THRILLED to get a special deal. I paid for two days in Universal and Islands of Adventure, and got a third day free. This was AWESOME. Except for the fact that I didn’t think to read the fine print.

When we got to Universal on our first day, the ticket and finger print scanner told me our tickets were expired.


Then, he pointed out the fine print. They had expired a month before. He told us to “Go to guest services and they might just give us a one day pass.”

My head almost exploded. I had paid $750-something (English major, here) for four two-day passes, and they “might just give us a one day pass?” I was going to hurt someone.

So, my husband did all the talking. He is our family spokesperson as I tend to be a wee bit unfiltered and totally too direct. Long story short, after waiting in line for an hour with all of the other people who had been screwed on this buy two get one deal they gave us three day passes for $40 on top of what I had already paid. OK. We were happy to finally get to enter the damn park.

Since we got a late start and didn’t get in until 11:00am or so, all of the rides had at least a 1,387 minute wait. There were signs everywhere announcing that express passes were priced FROM $39.99. So, my husband told us that he would buy express passes for the next day and we could get there early and ride everything without the need to pack a lunch and an air mattress to wait in line.

Guess what? Scruniversal strikes again. Notice how they said express passes were FROM $39.99? That’s because they are NEVER $39.99. On the day my husband tried to buy them they were $99.99 EACH. This does NOT INCLUDE your admission ticket. Bend over. If you want to get on a ride before YOU are 99, it’s going to cost you.

I get that theme parks are a business, and they want to screw grown-ups out of their hard earned money, but when they involve kids, I have a problem. This happens at Ollivander’s Wand Shop in the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. When a group enters Ollivander’s a kid is chosen. Well, it’s not always a kid because my son’s 19 year-old girlfriend was a chosen one. That’s how I know what happens. So, the chosen kid is “given” a wand by the actor portraying the shopkeeper. Actually, the kid is told that the “wand chooses the wizard.” Whatever. So, at least five times, the shopkeeper and his assistant tell the kid, “this is your wand.” Then, when the little presentation is over, the kid leaves the room with the wand.

Wait. Does the kid actually get a free wand at Scruniversal? Nope. Not so fast, little wizard. The assistant grabs the kid and asks, “Where are your parents?” Then, she informs them that their child’s wand is $47 plus tax.  Now, what parent is going to say no after their little snookums was just told they were the chosen wizard and other such nonsense? My son’s girlfriend bought her wand, and my son bought one, too.

They try to screw you out of your belongings when you use a locker. Instead of having you take a key, or use a pin code, most of Scruniversal’s lockers use those biometric finger print scanners. This is the worst idea ever. Apparently, I would be an awesome KGB double agent, because my fingerprints are unreadable. Every time I used one, and I gave it three tries, I had to get an attendant to open my locker for me. I felt like I was back in middle school trying to get ready for gym class. I got the same panic and pit sweats. There was never a time I COULD open my locker via this magical finger print method. And it wasn’t just me. My son’s girlfriend could not open her locker at the Harry Potter ride. The finger print scanners don’t work for shit, Universal.

The kids loved dinner at the castle.

The kids loved dinner at the castle.

Going to The Magic Kingdom was a welcome escape from the messed up Marriott and Scruniversal. Yes, it was hot, and yes there were tons of people, but Disney is always delightful. This is partially because it is SO CLEAN. After all, they hire people who just sweep and empty garbage, all day long, in costume, and usually while singing. That is some attention to detail right there. That is why it was a surprise to see a Magnum condom wrapper on the ground when we were waiting in line for Splash Mountain. I guess that big drop at the end got someone REALLY excited.

Another thing I LOVE about Disney is that selfie sticks are SO banned.  The mouse clearly does NOT like selfie sticks. There’s a big warning sign on the parking attendant booths.  Then, you receive a flyer with your parking pass. Before you can enter the monorail, you get a thorough selfie stick search. Well, just your bags get searched. It’s not like Goofy is there in a cop uniform with big, rubber, mouse hand gloves yelling “BEND OVER AND SPREAD ‘EM, GARSH DARN IT!! YOU BETTER NOT HAVE A SELFIE STICK UP THERE!!!”   It wouldn’t surprise me though as they are damn serious about the no selfie stick rule. It’s great that they ban these things because they’re annoying. People already stop in the middle of walkways to take pictures of everysinglefuckingthing. It’s best not to encourage them to take MORE pictures.

But there are other things that should be banned:

Double wide strollers – Seriously, if you really must bring two children who cannot walk yet, will likely throw loud, screechy fits, and will never remember this super expensive vacation, at least use a normal, single row double stroller. I can’t tell you how many times I thought I would die or lose an appendage when some Starbucksed-up mom (yes, Starbucks has now invaded even Disney World) pushing two screaming children towards some poor bastard in a Mickey costume almost ran me over to get “Mickey’s” autograph, stop her children from shattering peanut brittle with their voices, or both.

Stopping in the middle of a walkway – People really think there is no one else in the world when they just HAVE to take a picture of a shrub shaped like Jiminy Cricket or a mouse ear shaped balloon. Move over to the side if you have to stop walking. There are other people who are trying to get to their next Fast Pass ride. You can schedule Fast Passes for free, by the way. It’s included with your admission. Are you taking notes, Scruniversal?

The Scooter Brigade – In all of the theme parks we visited, it seemed like at least a third of the visitors were in scooters. Yes, some of them were legitimately handicapped. Others seemed to be handicapped only by their sheer physical size, and hopped their obese bodies right out of their scooters to get on rides. It was so common that I told my husband that they really need to put in a scooter exhibit on “Its a Small World.” They could have little dolls from all over the world singing and scooter dancing to that horrible song that accompanies the ride. He replied, “That would work since I’m not sure if they are embracing cultural diversity or perpetuating racial stereotypes. Also, that song will haunt me in my dreams until 2027.”

We did have some good memories from Disney, like the princess meals we had. I booked dinner at Cinderella’s Castle because I’ve always wanted to eat there and because my son’s girlfriend is into all things Disney princess. I knew she would get a kick out of it, and she did. I have the pictures to prove it.

I love Snow White. I made the husband pose with all of the others.

I love Snow White. I made the husband pose with all of the others.

The next day, when my husband I went to Epcot and the teens spent the day at Hollywood Studios, we had an accidental princess lunch.  I booked lunch in Norway because neither one of us has ever had Norwegian food and my husband likes fish dishes. We have eaten all of the other cuisines in Epcot, so I wanted to book something different. Once we arrived in Norway, and saw the line of little girls in princess dresses, we realized that we were dining with royalty. I made my husband pose with most of the princesses, which they loved. And so did he. The fact that Epcot is not dry like the Magic Kingdom also made us happy. Norwegian food and Disney princesses go well with good wine.

Overall, it was a good trip. I know I have bitched a lot about things, but that is how I amuse myself. We made a lot of good memories, took pictures (minus the selfie stick) and had Mickey waffles for breakfast daily. We also walked 44 miles in six days so it was definitely a vacation where I felt no guilt eating whatever I wanted. However, the next time I go back, I will be springing for a Disney hotel, though. I feel lucky that I didn’t get bed bugs from the nasty Residence Inn.

I want to hear about your most recent vacation. Was it a theme park tour like mine, or did you read on a beach somewhere? Leave me a comment.



Wimpy Parenting = Wimpy Kids

Fifth grade Lisa did NOT earn participation trophies, or any trophies.

Fifth grade Lisa did NOT earn participation trophies, or any trophies. 

Way back when polyester bell bottoms were all the rage, and remote controls and cable TV had not been invented, I was a shy, chubby fifth grader. I got picked last for kick ball, made fun of because of my mom’s rusted out Chevy, and received a plain sandwich and water when I couldn’t afford lunch at school. I lived.

If I were a fifth grader now, the coach would divide the kids into teams to make sure no one felt ostracized. Any kid caught making fun of my mom’s car would have been given a detention and a how not to be a bully reading list. The lunch lady would have given me the same lunch that everyone else received even if I had not paid for two weeks. In short, the world has gone soft and we are creating adults who cannot deal with reality. Life has changed since the disco era. Now, there is a list of rules we must follow, especially if we have kids, so we don’t offend anyone. Here are a few examples.

INVITATIONS FOR EVERYONE – When I was in fifth grade, I was thrilled to be invited to my friend’s birthday sleep over. After opening my invitation in class, I noticed that about half of the sleepover party girls were also going to a water park with the birthday girl. I asked the birthday girl about this, and she said, “Yeah. My parents said I could only bring five people to the water park. So, you can’t go with us.” I stammered out some version of “Oh, OK” and went back to my desk. I cried when I got home, and I felt a little left out, but I got over it. She couldn’t invite ALL of her friends to the water park. That’s life.

Now, kids have to invite the WHOLE class or they are not allowed to bring invitations to school. This is so no one’s feelings are hurt, and no one feels left out. The bad thing about this is it extends into adulthood. There are now grown women who have meltdowns because they are not invited to a wedding, or party, or bunko game. Everyone thinks no one should ever be left out. That is just not realistic.

NO JUDGING – There is this huge “don’t judge anyone” commandment now, and it’s making us stupid. There are grown ups who maintain friendships with people they don’t like just to avoid the “judge” label. It’s also putting kids in danger. If your little snookums has been raised not to think of anyone as “bad” then he’s not going to see a problem with hanging with the drug dealing kid who sets toilet paper fires in middle school.

NO FIREWORKS – OK. Everyone is going to hate me for this, but I’m going to say it anyway. I am grateful for our military, and I feel horrible that some soldiers come home with PTSD. I get how fireworks can be a trigger. But, guess what? The whole world is not going to stop using fireworks because they cause anxiety for some people. Instead, the people who suffer from PTSD should make other plans. Perhaps earplugs, noise reducing headphones, or medication would help during certain holidays.

NO TRIGGERS – The other day I shared what I thought was a funny meme on Facebook. It was a blurry picture of Bill Cosby and it said, “If you see this, it’s too late.” Not five minutes later, I got a comment from someone telling me the picture is a trigger for rape survivors. She was assuming I was NOT a survivor. I told her that I was sorry and I hadn’t though of that. I was first sexually abused at age 2, but I was overpowered by my teen babysitter, not drugged. I left the meme up. If something I see online or on TV makes me think of being sexually abused as a kid, I stop looking at it or watching it. I don’t expect the world to tiptoe around my past.

POTTY MOUTH POLICE – I say fuck like most people say hello. I grew up with a mother who cursed a lot and I spent 10 years as a stand-up comedian. So, I don’t even notice when I say “bad” words. Someone always tells me, though. Look, I get that you might not what your kid to start speaking Sailor because he heard it from me, but that is YOUR responsibility, not mine. When my son was little, I had conversations with him about language that he could use in private and public words. I didn’t expect people in a public place to change their behavior for my child.

I know that it is supposed to take a village to raise a child, but it’s not a village of automatons. People come in all shapes, sizes, sexual orientations, and temperaments. The sooner kids realize that not everyone is going to ensure they live a life of cupcakes and bubble wrap, the sooner they will learn to deal with a variety of people and situations.

So, what do you think? Let me hear from you in the comment section. Are you a helicopter parent, a free-ranger, or somewhere in the middle?


Snarky Retort to “Rules for Dating my Daughter”

Normally, I flip through the interwebs casually and inattentively. I read headlines, glance at cat pictures, and roll my eyes at religious and political stuff. Every so often, I see a popular meme that irritates me so much that it jars me from my semi-conscious social media induced zombie state. I know you have probably seen this one, too. It’s everywhere. It’s even on t-shirts. As you can probably tell from looking at the title, it’s the Rules for Dating my Daughter meme that irritates the pacifist right out of me.

Why would this irritate me? It’s funny, right? WRONG. It’s not funny when you have a son. Not one bit. It’s not funny when someone assumes your Star Wars watching, animal loving boy is a threat to anyone. So, Mr. Macho Rules for Dating my Daughter, I’ve got some replies for you.

Get a job.

Why? Are you counting on him to pay your bills while you sit around, pull the bedbugs out of your navel, and write stupid ass rules for dating your daughter? School is his job right now. Obviously, it was never your focus.

Understand I don’t like you.

Understand he probably doesn’t give a shit. Also, understand your snotty little princess might get on my last nerve.

I am everywhere.

That’s an odd statement. Are you on any psychiatric drugs or did you fail basic physics in school? While you are floating around EVERYWHERE, can you tell your daughter to stop leaving hickies on my son?

You hurt her, I hurt you.

First of all, that is a comma splice. You would have learned fancy writing skills in school. Also, DO NOT threaten my son. If you hurt him, I can promise that you will never know what hit you. I will fly at you with some Lifetime movie level shenanigans like the Wicked Witch of the West on Meth riding a Dyson.

Be home 30 minutes early.

Then tell BOTH of them to be home 30 minutes earlier than you originally said. Don’t play games. Just give a damn time.

Get a lawyer.

Why? Dating your daughter is a crime because she is such a special princess? Fuck off.

If you lie to me, I will find out.

How? Did Harry Potter mind reading skills come with your “I am everywhere” starter kit?

She is my princess, not your conquest.

I didn’t know princesses traded in their gowns for shorts that show their labia. My son generally wears pants that cover his genitals. Who is the conquest?

I don’t mind going back to jail.

Really? Is it the food or your big, burly lover that you miss most?

Whatever you do to her, I will do to you.

So, you will buy him jewelry for Christmas? You will take him to the movies every week, and out for ice cream, too? I think you need to think this one through a little.

Really, I’m not sure why any of these “rules” bother me. They were obviously written by a “man” who sits on his porch, polishes his gun, and spits tobacco juice into a Mountain Dew can. In other words, he’s a walking stereotype.

Hey, I’ve got an idea, Mr. Rules. You could maybe get to know my son as a person rather than an imaginary threat. In return, I will stop rolling my eyes whenever your daughter complains of being cold in her denim bikini bottoms. Deal?


Murder Mystery Meltdown

On Friday nights, I usually change in to my pajamas at 5, order a pizza, have an extra glass of wine, and watch Shark Tank with my husband. Last Friday was a wee bit different. My good friend M had a couple of extra tickets to the murder mystery dinner here in my hometown. My husband and I like hanging out with M and her husband, so we were glad they invited us. Having never been to a murder mystery dinner, I thought it was a dinner show, meaning I could just sit there, shovel food in my face, and watch the show. It would be kind of like what I do at home in front of the TV only I would have to wear a bra, and not put my feet up. It sounded awesome.

At 43, I have the hearing of a 90 year-old, so before walking into the restaurant, I turned up my hearing aids. I wanted to be able to hear M and hear the show. This was my first mistake. Holy heck. From the time we entered the restaurant until the “crime” was solved, there was constant noise and “information” about the killer. The interaction never stopped.

Once I realized how noisy it would be, I turned DOWN my hearing aids and asked to see the drink menu. I said a silent secular prayer that this was a full liquor bar place and not a beer and wine only place. I did plan to order two glasses at a time if wine was my only option. One glass would not be strong enough for this hermit hell I was in. Beer is just weak bread flavored soda, in my humble opinion.

As an introvert, I lose energy when I am in a crowd of people. It’s almost like my light switch goes off and my ability to interact with people just shuts down. My switch flipped off about an hour before the show was over. I’m sorry, I mean about an hour before the murder was solved.

Not only was there a lot of listening and talking, but there was freaking homework! Seriously. We had to take notes and fill out a worksheet about “clues” and “suspects.” I was not allowed to write, “I don’t care. Can I just have my dessert in peace?” That is not a correct answer. They really wanted us to THINK about what had happened and who had a motive to kill the victim. I hadn’t heard most of what the suspects had said because the sound system seemed to have come from a 1989 K-Mart catalog. It also could have been because I’m hearing impaired.

Not only did I have to strain to listen to suspects, but also I had to talk to strangers. Strangers. I’m still recovering. We were supposed to actually get up from our table and circulate to talk to even more strangers. As the token introverts at the super interactive murder mystery show, M and I declined to do this. Our husbands played the game, though. This gave M and I a chance to catch up.

There was a theme, too. It wasn’t just a murder we were solving; it was a totally awesome, tubular murder from my high school years. That’s right. We were partying like it was 1985. I really enjoyed the 80’s theme, especially the costumes. I wore my cat Swatch (of course I have one), a checkerboard mini skirt, and leggings. Other people dressed in really authentic 80’s attire, including the murderer and her man.

The Murderer and her Beau

The Murderer and her Beau

The murderer was Cindy Leapyear. Get it? Leapyear instead of Lauper. I don’t remember what her motive was or any details because I had stopped paying attention an hour earlier. I think it had something to do with a romantic relationship with another character that looked like Joe Dirt. My husband got a picture of Cindy (not her real name) and her companion, who wore a plastic suit. I hope he had a layer of baby powder under that suit. It did not look comfortable. I spent the evening trying to figure out if he was Michael Jackson or Devo. He did win a prize for his costume, as I told him he would when I first saw him earlier in the evening. Cindy and Devo Jackson gave us permission to use their picture.

So, if you are an extrovert, and you love talking to people and being social, and doing a lot of thinking while you eat dinner, find yourself a murder mystery dinner to attend. If you are an introvert, stay home and watch TV. It won’t talk back to you and you can wear pajamas while you watch.

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