Westboro Baptist Church is picketing Whitney Houston's funeral

I think we can all agree that Fred Phelps and his family are disgusting. There's no doubt in my mind that the man is abusive (his son that left the church has claimed this many times) and that the whole Westboro Baptist Church is filled with piles of shit, masquerading as humans.

My "Good family" lives in Topeka and they are (naturally) horrified that they live in the same area as this loathsome family. They hate WBC and my cousin Angie is unable to talk about him objectively, having grown up witnessing their antics. I've tried before to talk to her about what I think and she's shot me down. So I'll say it here...

I think there's something up with the Phelps clan besides their desire to spread hatred. I don't know why, but the whole thing seems a little off to me. I do know that Phelps was a civil rights attorney before being disbarred. I know that he sued the state of Kansas in the 90s. I don't think it's all a scam to make money like this guy, but there's something strange going on and I think it's more than just hatred. If they really wanted to encourage people to think like them they'd welcome new members. But they don't. This is basically a family religion with few outsiders. And several of them work for the state of Kansas in some capacity. Why?

Again, I think that they are the scum of the earth. I think they're doing evil work for evil purposes but I think there's more to this than just biblical hatred. What's all the publicity for? What's their motivation there? Why Whitney Houston? Aren't they just stretching at this point?

What do you think? I'll be the first to admit that I know very little about the WBC and I just don't care enough to research them in depth. Do you think this is something they truly believe in or do you think there's another motivator?

I did it.

There comes a point in every woman's life where she needs to be accountable for her actions. When the time comes to stand up and say, "Yes, it was me and I'm ready to take responsibility."

I was 12 years old and in the 6th grade when I caused the scandal. A scandal so heinous that I thought for sure I'd be held back and not allowed to enter middle school. I did it. It was all my idea. I acted alone and when I was caught I lied like a philandering Assembly of God minister and continued to lie for years. In fact, I've never admitted it to anyone until now. To you. This is my story.

12 year olds have a stupid sense of humor and they're all obsessed with sex and changing bodies and all that shit. 12 is a shitty age because you still kind of want to be a kid but all your friends are growing up and so you put all your toys away a little regretfully and then they start separating the boys from the girls and telling you a whole bunch of gross shit about sex and how "beautiful" your body is but you know the whole thing is a lie and you've been wearing sweatshirts for 2 years now to hide the little booby-buds that sprouted even though they were never asked for and certainly not welcomed.

And now everyone's telling you that you're no longer a girl: you're a "young lady" and someday soon you're going to meet a special boy and he's going to want to have sex with you but you must NEVER LET HIM! And nobody ever tells you that maybe YOU might be the one to want to have this nasty 'sex' thing everyone's talking about. And there's that one girl, Julie, who did sex with her boyfriend already and so we all treat her a little differently... like she's kinda gross but kinda grown up too and now all anyone wants to talk to her about is sex and she tells you that boys make this gross white stuff and they shoot it everywhere and HOW FUCKING DISGUSTING IS THAT??? But it's a little interesting too and since you are an avid reader your parents don't really monitor what you read and so you learn a little about sex so that you can impress your friends and everyone thinks you're really knowledgeable until the day you're sitting in the cafeteria and one of your friends is telling you about someone she knows who knows someone else whose dad is a dentist and he took X-rays of this woman's throat and there was SPERM IN HER THROAT! And everyone made pukey faces except for you who asked with a straight face, "How did it get up there?" and then all your friends look at you all silently with big eyes like you're the dumbest bitch on Earth and all of a sudden it hits you like a ton of bricks and you shout, "OHHHHHHHHHHHH!" and everyone laughs at you as the concept of fellatio enters your mind for the very first time in your life.

We've all been there.

6th grade was the year I decided that I wasn't going to be the picked on kid anymore. We moved to a different town and I reinvented myself. I chose to accept the title of "Class Clown" and was fortunate enough to wind up in Mr. Gilliam's classroom. Mr. Gilliam was a wonderful teacher and an all around great guy who told me I was funny. He liked me very much and joked with me like an adult. He had a dry sense of humor and I got it and the other kids' didn't. My sense of humor tended (tends) to be more like a multicolored circus hammer to the head. I don't do subtlety. He generally liked me but my hyperactivity got on his damn nerves and we had a bad instance once when he put tape over my mouth to get me to shut up. He, of course, didn't know that I was allergic to tape. I went home that night with blisters around my mouth and when my mother asked what happened I had to plead with her not to call the school. It was a joke and he didn't know.

Again I digress.

OK, now that you know all that then it will make sense when I tell you that for some reason I decided it would be the height of hilarity to steal one of my mother's Kotexes and take it to school. I then put some ketchup on it and threw it in a toilet in the girl's rest room. My friends thought this was hilarious and so we began yanking out hair to put on the Kotex. Someone suggested we ask the black kid for some of his hair for added hilarity. Someone else thought it would be funny to put some raisins on the Kotex. Why? I couldn't possibly tell you, but at the time I couldn't tell you why we DIDN'T have raisins on the Kotex until someone suggested it. Kotex and raisins: they go together like, well, Kotex and raisins. We all had a good laugh and left it in the toilet for everyone to enjoy and appreciate.

Fun fact: Janitors don't find Kotex and raisins funny. At all. Another fun fact: 6th grade girls will rat your ass out in a nanosecond. A few hours later I found myself in the Principal's office calling my mother. In tears. "They say I put a tampon in the toilet!" I cried. And it was only my ignorance that saved me. Because I didn't know a pad from a tampon my mother became infuriated. "That's impossible!" she insisted. "How would you even get a tampon? I don't use them." And somehow, that woman who hung me out to dry at every opportunity chose this time to be on my side. She told the Principal I'd done nothing wrong. Nobody in authority had seen me do it and my Mother wasn't going to allow me to be punished for something I didn't do. When my friends who weren't there asked who did it I said I couldn't tell them who the REAL culprit was and so I got cool points for not being a squealer.

My mother talked about that fiasco for years afterward. It was a big deal. I almost got suspended over it and Mr. Gilliam was never quite the same after that. But in the end, I never got in any trouble at all. And even though I knew I was guilty as sin I listened to my mother bitch about it for years and shook my head at the assholes who tried to take down her baby.

Guilty.

Work

It's 5:00 at night and I haven't done anything at all today. Less than nothing. Absolute zero of not working. That's me.

Sometimes laziness is fun and sometimes it's a pain in the ass. This is the pain in the ass type of laziness. I have a deadline. I need to write 2 more articles before the billing cycle ends tomorrow. It has to be done. It MUST be done. Absolutely nothing is more important than writing these last 2 articles.

But whaaaa, I'm sensitive. My feelings are hurt and I don't feel good about myself today. My self-esteem is low. I need to be punched in the face. "How do you feel about being punched in the face?" "Well, the swelling in my lip is really making me forget all about the various imagined slights that I was focused on so I guess I feel better?" "Excellent, that will be 50 dollars."

People have real problems. Real issues going on and I'm running around here trying to avoid the other guests because they might notice I'm creepy and weird. I'm the Branson Bigfoot. Many have seen me but I can only be recorded on shaky, out of focus home cameras. I'm insufferable. 2 different people have asked me to do something today and I've convinced myself that it's because they hate me.

How did I ever get someone to marry my crazy ass?

I'm crazy and paranoid and weird and lazy and sitting here writing all this shit isn't getting those articles written. I have to write about mosquitoes. I have written 11 separate articles on mosquitoes this week and I think I can say with absolute sincerity that I have run the fuck out of shit to talk about when it comes to mosquitoes. I am the Mosquito Queen. Would you like to discuss mosquitoes with me? I can hold an intelligent conversation on their life cycle, larvicides, adulticides, and what diseases are carried by which insect. Did you know that only the female mosquito sucks blood? Bitch, I learned that shit 5 minutes into this. There is nothing I don't know about mosquitoes.

Writing here about mosquitoes does not qualify as writing an article about mosquitoes, Tonya. I see what you're trying to do here and when it's all said and done you're still no closer to mosquito closure.

I hope I don't sound like I'm bitching. Mosquitoes actually ARE kind of fascinating and I'm still stunned someone's willing to pay me money to talk about anything. I feel bad charging for this shit but that doesn't stop me from cashing the check. I will write about mosquitoes very soon. And when I'm done I'll write about anything else she wants me to write about. God help me, I wrote an article about maggots the other day and there is nothing on Earth that terrifies me more than a maggot. So, I'll do it and I'll like it and I'll be thankful for the privilege to do so but I'll also be whiny and insufferable and a tiny bit creepy. Because I deserve it.

Now, off to Mosquito Land...

Rant

Another day another pro-choice rant. Skip this if that sort of thing makes you uncomfortable.

I have a problem. About a week ago my sister-daughter wanted to talk about stem cell research. Why? Who knows? I know very little about the topic and compared to her I'm an expert. But she wants to talk. She's proud that she's developing her "own ideas." I grit my teeth because I know her well enough to know that her ideas are usually judgmental and preachy. And, in this sort of instance, I am never wrong.

She's against stem cell research because people have abortions so they can donate their embryos. Yes. Pregnant women everywhere are zipping down to their local clinic to get a suction abortion and a free I Gave At The Abortion Clinic T-shirt. I explained to her. The umbilical cords. The genetic modifying. All the rest. She says that's fine but she's against sluts getting abortions and then donating stem cells to make themselves feel better.

Hold it right there.

Yeah, I fucking told her. Told her about the abortion AND the stem cell permission I signed. She doesn't back down... much. All of a sudden, she's not really AGAINST abortion. She's against THOSE GIRLS. The ones who "have 20 abortions before high school and still don't learn their lesson." I interrupted, of course. "Really? 20 abortions, you say? Where are these girls? I want to meet one. Bring me the slut of many abortions!"

"Oh, I was just exaggerating for effect." Really? Because you just said you HATE those girls. You actually HATE girls who don't even fucking exist? Interesting.

She brings up the "slut" shit a few more times even after finding out about my abortion and I'm quick to remind her that all the shit she's saying about those sluts, she's saying about me. She's not really pro-life OR pro-choice, however. She just thinks that all babies should have a chance at life. That they're people from conception. And then she said it. My very favorite sentence of all:

"Except if she was raped."

I love it when they say that. It makes the hair on my arms stand up. My nipples get all perky and I start cackling madly. Because I have you and I didn't even have to try.

If you are pro-life except in the case of rape, then you are not pro-baby. You are anti-slut. If all babies are valuable then why is it OK to kill rape babies? Why are their lives worth less than slut babies? Slut babies get to be born... Hell, they HAVE to be born if we follow your rules. Rape babies, however, are apparently of no value to anyone.

"Oh, but all babies are valuable." Really? Then why is it OK to get an abortion if you're raped? "Because she spread her legs and should face the consequences."

And there it is.

If you say this. If you THINK this then you're not pro-life. You're anti-slut. You think sluts should face their consequences and take responsibility and blah, blah, fucking blah. The whole argument has now changed. Because it isn't about protecting babies now. It's about you forcing your moral judgments on someone else. I told her she was a hypocrite. I told her that she was nobody to be throwing stones. She continued.

"What do YOU suggest we do to keep girls from having all these abortions? How do you suggest we make them take responsibility?" she asks. "I have not one single suggestion because it's none of my business and it's none of yours." I answer. I'm not the fucking Pussy Police and neither are you. I reminded her of her own less than stellar past. Hell yes, I did. The bitch called me a slut. I'll be damned if I'll be slut-shamed by a slut.

It continued. I pointed out her own moral shortcomings. "But I'm not hurting anyone." Really? Well, I don't see how having an abortion harms anyone. I reject your moral statement that it's a "baby." If it's a baby then let's take it out and play with it. But that's beside the point.

I don't really mind being called a slut if someone's angry. I don't mind being called a cunt because that means I won the fight. Bitch is kind of annoying but only because that was my ex-husband's insult of choice. What pisses me off is that someone has the audacity to continue talking about sluts after I tell them it pissed me off.

Did I mention she admitted to having an abortion too? Oh, yes. She had one. It's OK though because she's sorry. She regrets it and asked for forgiveness and all is well. Now that she got the abortion she wanted... she needed... well. You don't get one. She was in a bad place. She couldn't be a mother. Her circumstances were different. Bitch, that's what every single woman who has an abortion tells herself. And that's fine. If it makes you feel better than tell yourself that. But when you start deciding that nobody else in the world is in the same circumstances you were, then you are a fucking asshole.

I talk about abortion a lot. I blog about it a lot. And I don't do it because it was an awesome experience I want to recreate. It was painful, expensive, embarrassing, and shameful. If I had my way no other woman would ever have to go through what I did. But women always have and we always will. It's an important right that is slipping away each day and because of that I talk about it. I know it makes people uncomfortable but I spent years trying to hide my "dirty secret" and it's just been in the past few years that I realized a couple of things... 1) How can I say abortion is OK if I'm treating it like a dirty secret and 2) The people who usually speak with passion about abortion are against it. How can we expect to legitimize something if we are all hiding it? THAT is why I talk about it so much here. Because I don't know anyone else who's doing it.

But back to my problem: It's been about a week now and I still don't want to talk to her. I told her I had to go and I lost my temper. I didn't say anything I regret. I just couldn't argue effectively anymore. She got under my skin. Every tactic I used in my arsenal of logic just bounced right off of her. When she finally told me after an hour that she really didn't believe she was a judgmental person I had to fucking go. How can you argue with someone talking about how sluts should keep their legs closed, even if they're 12 years old. That they need to learn responsibility. And then saying in the next breath that they are open minded and nonjudgmental? I don't know. I've never really argued with someone who just repeats the same bullshit ad nauseum without changing tactics. The conversation ended as it began.

So, no. I don't want to talk to her. I'll be honest-  I don't even like her. Haven't since she hit about 14. She's a mini-Ursula and even she recognizes that. I've tried to be a part of her life because I gave birth to her and I feel somewhat responsible for her but I just don't fucking get her. She says shit like this and then turns around and tells Levi (jokingly, she says) that she is my favorite. She brings it up a few times a month. I always respond that I am my favorite but it continues. Why? She talks with Levi and me and tries to joke like we do but her jokes always come off mean. I don't joke with her and I don't joke with Levi when she's around. I imagine she's trying to fit in but some people can tease and it's funny. Some people tease and it's just mean. I've apologized for letting my parents adopt her. I've cried and begged her forgiveness and explained that I always thought it would be different for her. That's a regret I'll take to my grave-probably my biggest one of all. But how much do I owe her out of guilt? I used to buy her presents and she never said thank you once. Hundreds of dollars in birthday and christmas gifts and she couldn't pick up the phone. So I stopped buying her shit. I bought her a new computer once and the very next week I see she's joined a Facebook group called, "I hate my slow computer." Petty? Maybe, but I vowed to never buy her another and when that slow computer of hers got stolen I gave her a sympathetic noise and told her I hope she figured it out soon.

It's shit like that. Small shit. Big shit. I refused to be alone with her or let her into my house for 3 years once. I'd just moved back to Shitville a year prior to this incident and hadn't spent a lot of time with her... took her out to eat a few times. Bought her a diamond ring for graduating the 8th grade. Nothing splashy but a cute little heart made of diamonds. Then I moved into my own place and before I can invite her over an incident happens. I'm in the kitchen with my roommate/babysitter Matt and there's a knock on the door. It's the police and they tell me someone has reported that I'm abusing a child. Matty and I are flummoxed and I'm all puzzled because that's the general reaction of people who don't beat their kids. Levi's in his bedroom cleaning it and I invite the cops in. I figure out they're talking about Levi and ask if they want to talk to him alone. They said they would like that. I ask Levi if he's OK with that and he says sure. To his credit, he looks as confused as the rest of us. Matty and I go in the kitchen while they talk to Levi and then they leave. The next day they talk to him at school. Same questions. Someone's said that I'm hitting him. He told me that they were annoying him because they refused to accept that he was OK. They must accept it because they never came back and nobody from any child's services ever showed up. But I'm sitting here wondering who did this? Who said I hit my kid? What kind of fucker would say some shit like this?

My dad's new wife and I got to know each other fairly well about this time. I liked her but didn't know her very well. We had an instance where I took her side over my mom's (that's another story) and so she trusted me but we weren't super close yet. One night she comes to my house and tells me that there's something I need to know and nobody else has the balls to tell me but she feels I have the right to know. And then she tells me about how Bianca and Mom were fighting a few weeks prior and the cops were called. They came down on Bianca's ass a little too hard because she became belligerent and started screaming, "I don't know why you're bothering me. My sister does drugs in front of her son and hits him!" To my parents' credit, they were both there and told the police it was absolutely not true but the damage was done. They got my address and the next day they were at my house. Inside my house. Talking to my son and looking me over. Judging me. Looking at me like a goddamn child abuser. Pulling my son into the Principal's office to question him while she looked on. Also judging, I'm sure. Why? The last time I saw that girl I was giving her a diamond fucking ring and telling her how proud of her I was. And then, when it was convenient, she throws me under the bus for no reason. She'd never even seen me spank Levi. And drugs? Come on. I didn't allow Levi to be with her unchaperoned until she had Zaden. I never kept her from him but she had to see him at my mother's house and my mother was not allowed to let Levi leave with her because a kid who will pull some shit like that on someone who never did one bad thing to them will do anything. There are more stories. Stories involving the things Bianca's done to Levi... to Terry's animals... and I do believe she's changed. I really do or I would worry a helluva lot more about my grandson. But, the fact remains that I've never been apologized to about the police. Not by her and not by my parents who both agreed, "It's best not to tell Tonya." If Terry hadn't found out about it I still wouldn't know why the cops were at my house that night and I'd still be looking over my shoulder.

So yeah, she called me a slut. But it's more than that. It's a lifetime of entitlement and judgment by someone who doesn't give anything and does whatever she wants. It's hypocrisy and it's mean jokes and it's sex talk all the fucking time. I had to get royally pissed off before she'd quit talking about her sex life. I don't want to hear about my kids' sex life. Are you safe? Are you taking birth control? That's all I want to fucking know. If you have any other questions please feel free to contact your local librarian. It's inappropriateness and no boundaries and it's affecting the way I think of Zaden. Because it's always about chasing him down and then having to talk to her for an hour when I just want to say 'hi.' I find myself not calling because it's just too much work.

And now I've been writing for almost an hour and I'm still no closer to an answer. I know me. I know what I'll do. I'll eventually suck it up and pretend nothing happened and it will be yet another thing that I hold against her. It will just go on forever because what else can I do? I can write off my mother because she is an old woman who knows better and she has nothing I want. Writing off Bianca means writing off Zaden as well. I don't want that. I'll shut up and smile, I suppose. That's what I usually do with my family and as I told Dino the night it happened, "She's THEM." I have a mental list in my head and it's a loose-leaf piece of paper like you wrote on in grade school. There's a line drawn down the middle and on one side is "FAMILY" and on the other side is, "Non-hurting family." Bianca was on the good side with only a couple of other people but she's firmly moved herself over to the crowded side. She'll never know and she wouldn't care if she did know, but I know and it really fucking hurts.

I lost another bag of flour!

The last time I weighed myself I was 268 lbs. having lost 5 pounds since the previous weigh for a total of 7 pounds.

Today I am down to 263! I cannot tell you how relieved I am about this because the past 2 weeks have been really difficult and I haven't been able to afford to eat as well as I would have liked.

So, to put it all in perspective, my last weigh was Jan. 28th. Today is February 15th. And I lost 5 pounds in 17 days. Again, this is my target weight loss of 2 lbs. a week. I couldn't be more excited. This means a grand total of 12 pounds lost in 42 days. 42 days=6 weeks. 2 pounds per week almost on the nose. I really think I'd lost a lot more than the 2 pounds I gave myself in the beginning. Here are some things I have lost.

A 12 pound baby:

A 12 pound bowling ball...

And a turkey big enough for the whole family!

It usually takes 15-20 pounds for me to go up or down a pants size so I'm hoping by the time I do my next weigh in a few weeks I'll be down in an 18. I'm already able to fit into them but they're still a little too snug. I take back all the bad things I said about you, Dr. Agatston!

It's all over!

I talked to the case worker today and he told me he'd verified that EmoBoy was no longer in Kansas and that he's closing his case. I'm asking him to put it in writing because I know this shit will come back to bite me in the ass otherwise, but for now I don't owe them anything. Hooray!

25 horrible Twitter reactions to Chris Brown at the Grammys.

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