The Atheist Granny

I did it.

2012-02-16T19:48:00.000-06:00

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

2012-02-16T17:28:00.000-06:00

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

2012-02-16T09:01:00.001-06:00

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!

2012-02-15T13:54:00.001-06:00

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!

2012-02-14T00:26:00.000-06:00

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.

2012-02-13T16:54:00.000-06:00

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Buzzfeed.com

The Stodden-lizard's armband

2012-02-12T18:09:00.001-06:00

Frimmy has a hatred of Courtney Stodden's armband.

And who can blame her? The thing is as tacky as The Stodden is herself. Stodden, however, loves this thing. She wears it all the time. To the beach...

To stupid photoshoots where she dresses as a mermaid...

While trick-or-treating with her grandhusband (credit to Frimmy for that name)...

Hell's Bells, she wears that stupid thing to church.

Always with that stupid, ugly, tacky armband of hers. Why? What's the point? Someone mentioned something about it being an S&M thing. That it symbolizes her being a slave or something. I don't know, but Doug is always hanging on her in all these photos with a very proprietary touch.

The armband needs to be put down. It is evil and it needs to be stopped. We've reached critical armband overload here and I, for one, can't take any more of it. We need to stop it before it sets off some sort of fashion trend in the trailer parks throughout America. And... what?

I don't want to live on this Earth anymore.

Pitbulls

2012-02-12T07:59:00.002-06:00

Petey of "The Little Rascals." Think they'd cast a pit bull with a gang of kids nowadays?

Pit bulls used to called "Nanny Dogs" back in the 19th century because they were so good with kids and frequently, people would leave their child in the care of the family pit. Yes, they left babies and pit bulls alone together and it was OK.

Some pit bulls have been trained as fighters and the sad thing is-they're very good at it. Some of the reason is because they're very strong. Some of it is because the breed is predisposed to pleasing humans. Either way, the sad truth is that irresponsible humans have given a bad name to a breed that deserves it less than almost any other.

However...

Pound-for-pound, the American Pit Bull terrier is the strongest breed in the world. The CDC did a study of the 238 people who have been killed by dogs over the past 24 years. Of that group, almost 1/3 of the fatalities were attributed to pitties.

I've read pros and cons on pit bull regulations (Yes, I read the most boring shit imaginable), and I tend to come down on the side of the pits. Until the 1970s, pit bulls were great family pets and somehow in the past 40 years the breed became vicious? I'm skeptical, to say the least.

So, although I do see the validity of both sides, I'm still up in the air about the whole thing. Up in the air but leaning toward the pits, that is. Would I leave my grandson alone with one? No, I wouldn't. I don't care how well-trained the dog is, I wouldn't leave a toddler alone with a big dog. I was bit on the knee by my friend's doberman when I was a teenager and I still have the teeth scars to prove it. The dog was trained and well-socialized. He'd never bit anyone before and as far as I know, he never bit anyone again. He just came over to sniff me one day like he had dozens of times before, and without any warning he bit down on my leg and refused to let go. Her father had to wrestle the dog to the ground to get him off of me. I couldn't do it. So no, I'm not leaving anyone alone around a big dog. Maybe I'm prejudiced, but I'm OK with that.

However, would I want to live in a city that outlawed pit bulls? I don't think that I would. The majority of pit bull owners are responsible people who love their pets very much. It would be cruel to force someone to give up their dog. A little over a week ago actor Nick Santino killed himself after euthanizing his pitty to please his apartment owner. Of course, some say the dog was beginning to act aggressively. So was it justified? Probably not, but it doesn't help matters any.

I suppose the answer is to request that people who want to own a powerful breed like this to make efforts to train their dog. But, of course, those who are inclined to spend time with their animals don't need to be told to do so and those who aren't wouldn't bother. I have 2 dogs that belonged to someone else before me and I emailed pictures to both prior owners along with updates. The first owner never replied. The second one only replied with a short "thank you" and never showed any interest. There are people who are just able to forget all about a dog they lived with for years, so there are people who don't give 2 shits about dog training.

What do you think? If reading on the internet has taught me anything it's that everyone (but me) has a strong opinion on pit bulls. Pro or con, they've got something to say. What do you say?

Whitney is dead.

2012-02-11T19:45:00.000-06:00

Whitney Houston died this afternoon at the age of 48. No reason has been given yet, but does anyone think this isn't related to drugs? Tragic. She had it all once upon a time.

Lindsay Lohan, however, is still alive.

Courtney Stodden's mother says her pedo son-in-law is perfectly fine, thank you very much.

2012-02-11T16:41:00.002-06:00

Courtney Stodden's pimp of a mother, Krista, is flapping her lips again. Recently she told Daily Mail one more time that there's nothing wrong with her daughter's marriage and that Doug Hutchison is "not creepy." They are in love. She is mature for her age. Nothing is wrong here. We're all a bunch of jelus hatorz who all want to look like Courtney and are angry because we can't have Doug for ourselves.

OK. That's fine. Anything that keeps Stodden in the public eye until I'm tired of her is fine with me. The funny part to me, however, is that Krista says 'I see why they’re together, he looks like he’s in his early 30s, and Courtney looks like he’s in her late 20s." Pimpmother please.

I suppose I should give this bitch credit for admitting that her only child looks like a day-shift dancer at a B-rated strip club down by the Toledo airport, but still... If it's apparent to her own mother that she looks a good 10 years older then bitch needs to slap some sunscreen on that kid.

But what really gets me is the part where she says Doug looks like he's in his early 30s. In what? Dog years? This man is a face lift away from becoming Bruce Jenner. And to be honest, I can't wait until he does. Being married to that prostiwife, it's only a matter of time. He may have the face of a 30 year old (he doesn't) but that dick is in its late 40s. Soon he'll need a variety of penis pumps, pills, and popsicle sticks to make anything happen down there. And then The Stodden will start looking for a younger man to scratch her various itches, which will lead Doug to start trying to inject and pull back the years. And I will be right here cackling. Why? Because I hate everyone involved in this whole icky mess.

This is weird

2012-02-10T16:50:00.000-06:00

I had about 20 or 30 old pictures put away that I kept meaning to scan. A few days ago I finally got off my ass and did it and I noticed a strange trend in the photographs of Levi and me.

In every photo I'm touching him or putting my arm around him but this seemed to be my favorite pose with EmoBoy... hunkering over him. I thought at first that I was trying to hold him still but he doesn't look like he's trying to get away. What the fuck was up with me? That pose is really creepy. It appears more than a little possessive, doesn't it? "MY EmoBoy! You can't have the Precious!" Yes, I look like Gollum in these photos. It's obvious I liked him, but damn... let a toddler breathe, bitch.

Dreams

2012-02-10T16:31:00.002-06:00

I had terrible dreams last night (this morning). They were so fucking vivid and awful.

I was bartending again but it was in Shitville. I was in a shitty little dive that was dark and smelly and gross. Half of my customers were drinking Black Velvet and the other half wanted shit I didn't know how to make. "Say there, I'd like a Minneapolis Metro." "We need a round of Hawaiian Hula Whores." They laughed at me while I tried to read a recipe book but the book was useless and no one would tell me what was in a marshmallow martini. I was slow and people left in disgust. All of my beer was hot. I couldn't move fast enough. Anyone that's waited tables for a period of time knows the "waiting tables dream," but I've never had a bartending dream. I'm always smooth as a motherfucker when I'm bartending in my dreams (as I always was) but this was a catastrophe. Rednecks galore mocked me and made me cry.

Then I was sitting in the bar next to Dino and relaxing after work when a young Asian couple came along and said they wanted to have sex with us. The girl was astoundingly beautiful and I didn't want to watch her fuck Dino but he was begging and pleading and so I went back to their hotel room. I was so sad and so embarrassed and then she wanted to fuck me but I didn't know how and everyone laughed at me again.

I woke up after my night of being laughed at and read an email from the site I used to write SEO articles for and they said they did a review of my writing to see if I could be advanced to a higher tier, which brings more work and a 50% pay increase. My work wasn't good enough though and so they decided to keep me in the same bracket I'm in now. I'm not even writing for them anymore because I'm doing SEO writing for a woman in California who pays me better. I still feel kind of rejected. All I have is writing and I spent a lot of time on those articles. I researched and used proper grammar- unlike here. I proofread and did all that shit. I don't know what I did wrong. They told me to "keep writing." I kind of wish they would have told me what was wrong so I could do a better job, but on the other hand, fuck them.

I tried to call the foster care guy again but he wasn't in. I told Levi about the whole situation yesterday and he thought it was hilariously awful, as I do. "What if I was hanging out at Halen's house getting high? They'd make you pay for that?" Obviously they would, son. He then said what I've been thinking all along, "What if I was little and something happened to me?" I don't know, Levi. You can be damn sure they'd charge me for your upkeep, though. My dad heard us talking about it and said I should sue the state of Kansas for losing my child. They're a little worried they're going to get in trouble for having him but Levi went in front of a judge the day he got out of juvie and that judge said he could go to Shitville to live with his grandparents. Therefore, there's nothing for them to worry about.

I'm not upset. The dreams were a drag but they're a little funny now. I have the saddest dreams. A few months ago I had a recurring dream where I went to a whore house to apply to be a prostitute and they made me a housekeeper instead. I've given up on delusions in my dreams. Other people fly or hang out with celebrities. I work. The only celebrity I remember seeing is the one time I spied Matt Groening filling up his motorcycle at a gas station. I was wearing a Futurama Tshirt and so I ran over to him so I could ask him to sign it but he drove away right before I got the chance. Furthermore, I know Dino's thoughts on having sex with 2 women: it's too much fucking work and someone always gets their feelings hurt. The articles hurt my pride but that's all. The reality is that I have a great gig now making triple what I did before. I feel really valuable doing what I'm doing now. I enjoy writing and someone's willing to pay me to do it. I don't care if anyone ever sees it or not: I get to sit in my own home, drinking coffee in my pajamas and I write. I then send it to someone and they cut me a check. How can life be better than that? The boss I have now is happy with my work and THAT'S who I want to please. Who cares what the other company thinks? It's only a twinge to my ego because I wasn't writing there anyway. The Levi thing is becoming funny to me. I really don't think they can bill me for anything more than a few hundred dollars that I'm resigned to paying. I really believe this will all work out. I know that the government has fucked up a lot of people through child services but Levi applied for a Medicaid card the day after he went to Shitville and was approved for it. He also got a state I.D. so there are 2 different government divisions that know he's in Missouri. It will get straightened out. I'll be hounding that foster care guy until it is. Then I'll demand a letter from him stating that the whole affair is over because I know how they work and in 5 years they'll be trying to garnish my wages.

Here comes the drama llama

2012-02-10T03:36:00.000-06:00

I'm kinda tired of this.

I'm on Facebook right now. Decided to start playing Farmville again. See if I can get back into it... I don't know if I can, though because it's just so fucking busy now. There's too much to do. Yes, I preferred it when it was boring.

But that's not the point. I just opened up my farm to decorate for Valentine's Day... I haven't even finished harvesting yet and there's a PM. And it's an old friend with a problem. His wife has left him. He wants me to call her tomorrow to talk to her so he can find out what to do.

"She has been drinking again since her birthday. I love her. We just have issues that we never can seen to talk about and i'm completly lost in what to do. Inbox her and find out what she WANTS and i will do it i cant even contact her because of pfa. Please help us."

Never mind that I've been going through this with him for about 15 years now. They break up and then they make up. I was in their wedding. I care about their marriage and it makes me physically ill every time she leaves. We've done this about a dozen times now, the last time being right before Christmas. That's fine. I love them both and I'm there for them.

What bothers me is that it's never about me. I get 2 or 3 PMs, emails, or (very rarely) calls a week from people who are having problems. I try to help when I can. I assume I do an OK job because they keep coming back with more problems but you know... it's never about me. It's never anyone checking in to see how I am or how my life is. The kids are constantly coming to me with problems and I don't really mind that but damn... how about picking up the phone sometime just to ask me how I'm doing. Yes, my life is boring but sometimes I want to talk about it too. If I didn't have this blog I wouldn't have anywhere to really talk about the things that bother me.

My feelings are hurt. I'm all whiny-pants right now. I did what he asked.

"He just sent me a PM. I guess he saw me write on your wall. He wants me to talk to you and to find out if you're OK. He says you're drinking again and he's not allowed to contact you. He sounds very desperate. I told him I'd contact you. I don't want to get involved in any of your relationship business if you don't want me to be but I do want to check in to see how you are. I love you. I care about you. Call me when you get the chance. Call me if you need to talk to someone. I'm always here for you."

She'll get back to me and tell me all of the story that he left out. I'm sure it's a doozie. It always is. I love her. She's been my friend for 26 years now. I love him. He's been my friend for 15 years. But damn... would it kill a motherfucker to write "Happy Birthday" on my Facebook once a year? I literally never hear from this man unless he wants me to intervene with his wife. I don't know what mystical powers he thinks I hold over her. She's never done one thing I've told her to do in her entire life.

Sigh. I need a backrub.

More money update

2012-02-09T16:18:00.000-06:00

I finally talked to the guy from the state about Levi. I called a few times and he finally got back with me about an hour ago.

He is insisting that EmoBoy is a ward of the state of Kansas and the reason he wants money is to help defray the cost of keeping him there. I assured him that he is not even in the state of Kansas and hasn't been for a few weeks now. He asked me if I was sure. O___O

I assured him that he had spent 8 or 9 days in juvie and upon his release his paternal grandparents had driven him the same day to his maternal grandparents and that he was now residing in Missouri. He asked if I'd spoken to him since this past weekend and I told him I speak to him almost every day. I offered to tell him the name of my parents (step-parents, but who's counting?) and their phone numbers as well as EmoBoy's but he didn't want them. Said he's going to contact the case worker to figure this out.

Look, I know this guy deals with people every day who don't know where there kids are and obviously don't care. As a matter of fact, he thanked me for being so cooperative- but damn. When I tell someone I know where my kid is I for damn sure know where my kid is. It's his job and I don't resent him for doing it but what a shitty job it would be to deal with parents all day long who don't give a fuck. Well sir, today you met a woman who gives a fuck. I will be the easiest person to deal with that you've ever met.

What bugs me is that this seems kind of a slipshod way to run a railroad. How many weeks has Emo been in Missouri? 3 or 4 now. I would have to go back and look on the blog to find out. And all this time the state of Kansas has been billing me for a child they can't even account for? What the fuck kind of business are they running here? Yes, it's a bureaucracy but it's a bureaucracy that should know where the hell my son is sleeping at night. What if I didn't know where he was? What if he had family members that really didn't give a shit? He could be living on the streets and selling his body for Hot Pockets and I'd be paying for the state to take care of him.

So, that's where it stands right now. I still don't know how much money I owe them or if I owe them money at all. He didn't mention me paying for the time he spent in juvie, although I'm resigned to paying that. The state DID feed him and house him for 8 or 9 days. I will be rankled because Levi was sent there for drinking underage and his grandfather said that EmoBoy hit him. However, Levi is the one who had marks and bruises on him. They didn't deal with the situation properly (or any situation for that matter) and instead sent him away instead of sending him here. Remember just a few weeks prior to this they refused to let him come here because they wanted to maintain control. Anyway, I'm irritated that I have to pay for a situation I wasn't even involved in but I'm resigned. However, I really don't think it's very fair for me to pay child support to the state when they haven't been raising him. They had him for a little over a week and then turned him over to the same grandfather that Levi accused of child abuse.

Emo has options. He's lived with his father. He's lived with his grandparents. He's living with other grandparents now. I'm sitting over here wishing he'd decide to come home. He has an adult sister. If there was no one else, my elderly grandparents would take him in, as would my cousin or her parents. Right there are 8 different households that would take him in and care for him but what about children who don't have that? Do they turn all wards of the state over to the same people who've been accused of hitting the child? My stepfather refused to go pick up Levi. He sent his wife instead because he didn't trust himself not to hit Levi's grandfather. And yet Kansas not only sends him back, they don't even send anyone to check on the kid. It's crazy.

I tell myself that it's because he was a few weeks away from 17 when all this happened and that if it were a toddler they would be more involved. But it's damn hard to blow that shit up my own ass when I'm dealing with officials who are billing me for a child they can't even find.

More money

2012-02-08T14:39:00.001-06:00

I just got a bill from the Kansas Child Support office. They are billing me for EmoBoy being in foster care. I don't know how much and I don't know when he was in foster care- the best assumption I can make is that they're charging him for being in juvie for a week. I have no idea how much it's going to cost because no one was there to take my call. I think his grandmother said once that it costs $80 a day to keep them there. If so, I guess that's going to be about $1000 or so. *sigh* This really couldn't have come at a worse time.

Edit: Yes, I can do simple math but I'm factoring in the 5 days he spent in there a few months ago. I assume they're going to charge me for that as well. Anything less than $1000 I can make payments on. If it's more than $1000? Well, I don't fucking know what I'll do. Emo offered to help pay the cost but I can't let him pay this. Yes, it was his fault but, I don't know, it just feels wrong to have him help pay my debt to the state. *sigh* Let's all close our eyes and wish that this turns out to be something affordable. The state guy hasn't called me back yet.

Happy Birthday to me!

2012-02-08T11:59:00.000-06:00

The Atheist Granny blog is 2 years old today. Yes, it was abandoned for over a year of that but I look at my blog like I look at my children: as long as they're still alive and unable to prosecute you don't have shit on me.

But I digress.

Two years ago today I put up a little post titled,"Welcome to my blog..... now what the Hell are you doing here? " I was really into ellipses at the time. Times have changed and that's over now. I've grown.

So, today is my birthday (Yes, I get 2 now) but there's no reason to buy me nice things. I didn't get into this for riches or gifts. No, I do it only because I love you. Not for any material rewards, but only for the present of talking to you and finding out how you are. Certainly, I wouldn't want to take a tradition and bastardize it with items that have only the most tenuous of links. That's not who the Atheist Granny is and that's not why I'm here. I live only to give. Now and forever.

There will be no molestations today.

2012-02-08T10:25:00.002-06:00

I have been very, very good.

I know in the past there were some unpleasant molestations of you, my classiest of the Classy Motherfuckers™, and I am sorry. I was wrong and I wish I could turn back time to remove any taint of unpleasantness that stands between us.

But that was a long time ago! It's been a long time since any of you felt the cold, clammy caress of my hand upon your roofied knee. Those times are behind me now. I've grown.

I would like to formally apologize to each and every one of you that I've virtually molested in the past. I was wrong. Yes, it felt so very right but that doesn't change the fact that I was out of line. So terribly out of line. Please, my Classy Motherfuckers™, won't you all gather in a writhing pile on the floor so that I may apologize to each of you in a sensual manner while I stroke your nude bodies until the horror passes? Briezy will put on the confederate bikini I bought her for Christmas so that you all will feel more comfortable. She will also be passing out cognac and Mike's Hard Lemonade for anyone who wishes to dull the memories with alcohol. Drink deeply, my dears.

Briezy, are they all wasted? Excellent.

My beloved Motherfuckers, there are 4 new members to join us in our carnal delights. *claps hands* May I present to you the Fondling Four?

Sugar Sugar- a grown man with a Tinkerbell avatar.
Kim- a sensuous redhead with the Google logo poking her in the nose.
Frog- a person who is getting out of a car maybe? And I think is wearing a hat? Why does blogger make these fucking avatars so tiny?
Beautifulblackatheist- a woman who is beautiful, black, and most likely an atheist.

Each of them are lovely and exquisite in every way and I welcome you all warmly with a glass of my "special" champagne. Yes, it tastes a little bitter and the foam is blue but that's what real champagne does. It also makes your tongue numb so do not be alarmed by that. Are any of you pregnant, have a heart condition, or have a history of freaking out while under the influence of mind-altering drugs? No reason. No reason at all.

Welcome. Enjoy. If you need anything just ask Briezy. She'll be passing around canapes and morning after pills throughout the evening. No reason. No reason at all.

The Entitled Majority

2012-02-08T01:08:00.002-06:00

As soon as I say I hate something the most or love something the most, something comes along and proves me wrong.

I said I loathe a hypocrite more than anything else but time is showing me that perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps I hate entitled people more than anything else. This past week has certainly made me feel that way and now I must rant.

Who the fuck are you?

Who the FUCK are you to demand things from others? To feel anyone OWES you a goddamn thing? Only a minor is owed anything by another and the shit they're entitled to doesn't extend to receiving the white ipad instead of the black one.

What makes these people tick? I look at them like I look at a 5-legged bug. What made them that way and how do we keep them from spreading? How does this happen? Do they wake up one day feeling as if the world owes them for sucking air through their little snowflake lungs or is it an ongoing pattern? Dear lord, I'm thankful beyond belief that I wasn't raised to believe I was better than anyone else. How do others tolerate them? How do they tolerate themselves? Oh, who am I kidding? They LOVE themselves. They can't get enough of themselves. They think everything they do is wonderful and special. Common decency eludes them. They aren't bogged down with doubt or worries about the feelings of others. They just move through their lives in a narcissistic fog of self-congratulatory masturbation.

There's no real downside to entitlement that I can see. These human cockroaches thrive no matter what. Where I spend the majority of my days thinking of the best way to interact with the few people I communicate with, they are out there just demanding that life gives them their due. And it does. Whoever said "What comes around goes around" was a lying, deluded fool. They never get their comeuppance and if they do, they never fucking learn anything. They shake off the inconvenience and move on. I heard someone say once that you teach people how to treat you and I suppose that's true. I care about the people I know and I live in terror of alienating them every day. These fucks don't give a shit and everyone bends over backwards to accommodate them. I'm sick of it.

I want to become entitled. I want people to shrug and say, "That's just how she is. Ignore her." I want people to talk among themselves about how to make things happen without upsetting me. "Don't upset Tonya" needs to be the watchword of everyone I fucking know.

I demand that my feelings are the most important of all and I get all the attention. If you call me to talk about yourself, I get to change the subject and you'll just accept it. I want gifts and awards and accolades and praise. I demand it. I deserve it. Dare I say... I'm entitled to it?

I won't, of course. I don't have the self esteem to consider myself the center of the universe. However, even if I did I'm not sure I could pull off "entitled." The plain and simple fact is that entitled people are bores. They're bores and they're rude and terribly uninteresting.

Since I've been purposely vague about what set off my rant, I imagine there will be some question as to who I'm talking about. I'm tempted to say "If the shoe fits, wear it." But let's be honest: it's not about anyone who reads here. And it's not just one person. It's a few. Some I know and some I know of. Unfortunately, entitlement is an epidemic in this country right now and this is yet another reason why I don't want to ever leave my house. Jealous? Hell yes, you are. Entitlement may not course through my veins but you can be damn sure they flow with smugness.

With all the rightness in the world,

Tonya

I spend my time carefully

2012-02-07T10:37:00.000-06:00

A post I wrote last April. There are probably even more people playing this stupid shit now.

1,421,035 people are part of the problem

I hate reality TV. I fucking hate reality TV. I absolutely loathe the Jersey Shore. What a waste of perfectly good sperm these fuckers are. So you can imagine my disgust when I was on facebook (because that's where I keep my farm) and I see that there's a new fucking game... The Jersey Shore. I wanted to puke fire just because of that but then I noticed that there are 1,421,035 active monthly users and I almost lost control of my bowels. Almost a million and a half people are playing this stupid shit. I was angered and disgusted, so I did what any sane person would do in that situation. I signed right the fuck up, and as a courtesy to you... my followers who are left after the unfortunate molestation episode yesterday.... I decided to play this shit so you don't have to. I'm a giver, is what I mean to say.

My evening with The Jersey Shore kids:

So many faces to punch, so little time.

The game starts with a repetitive little ditty that is halfway between electronica and the theme song from farmville. It's hypnotically annoying. It's the Britney Spears of theme music. I'm prompted to make my own character or choose from one of the real life cast members. Unfortunately, I can't make a hybrid of boys and girls. My dream of an avatar with The Situation's abs and Snooki's hairbump must remain just that. I try to make a mishmash of all the girls and to my dismay, I discover that they all look about the same. I finally just choose things at random because the music is driving me apeshit.

The game prompts me to tell my friends that I've made a new character. Like this is some shit to be proud of. I decline. No one must ever learn of my shame.

Now for some hot, exciting Jersey Shore action! What shall we do first? Gym? Tan? Laundry? Seriously, how did this become a catchphrase? It's like somebody made a checklist of the 3 things I never want to do. And in the correct fucking order, I might add.

Or instead of playing I can "collect all items"... this shit is like the Pokemon of facebook apps. The music hasn't stopped.

Close that shit and back to the game. Where to go first? The club, of course!

So, fighting is OK. It's losing or running away like a little bitch that's not allowed in Chez Sausage Factory. This guy is the worst bouncer in the history of bouncers. Patrick Swayze is rolling over in his grave. And is it me or does this douche look a little old to be working the door? Whatever, I want in.

What in the name of self tanners are these faggots doing? I learn quickly it's not a gay club because it gives me the option to "creep"someone and I'm a quick study so it doesn't take me long to learn that means I'm trying to pick him up. I spy a level 1 guy. Surely, a beta male like this in this sea of ripped abs will either take me home to fuck or, at the very least, buy me drinks while I look around for something better to turn up. I make my move... CREEP!

The guy basically tells me that he can't risk being seen with me. Fuck son, if you don't like the skank I created then you'd be downright appalled by what's hiding on the other side of this keyboard. Either way, my ego doesn't need this kind of fucking rejection. I'm gonna hit the gym.

How many Bs are in 'abdominal'? Oh wait... they don't want to be confused with the original 'ab master.'

You can CLEARLY see the difference.

Meanwhile, back at the gym, I'm STILL working out.

I spend a minute and a half of my life watching the bar slide across the screen and when I'm done I don't even know what the point was. Am I buffer? Darker? Is my laundry fresher? Give me a fucking clue here, guys. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing? The only thing more boring than this shit is actually WATCHING The Jersey Shore.

Finally the slider is done sliding and my abs are now fit for humans to see. I'm guessing at this point because there is absolutely no notification of any sort to tell me what's happened other than the fact that I spent 90 seconds staring at a screen. Wow, we're having some fun now! It ends and I'm free to move on. What the fuck happened? Did my abs level up? Did I unlock a new and improved ab machine? I don't know. All I know is I'm pissed off now and some schlub comes along and wants to fight me. Doesn't he know about my fucking abs? He must not have got that memo.

His arms are pretty big but I can tell by his scrawny legs that he's only been working his guns for appearance sake. His core is weak and waiting to be impaled by my Snooki bun of doom... I'm given a choice of attacks that don't make sense to me so I choose one at random...

A chef? Did I seriously bring a chef to my alley rumble? Was I hoping to have this fucking thing catered? He strikes back. But he moves too fast for me to get a good screenshot. I pick randomly again and I choose....

A DJ? Are we fighting or planning our wedding? A few more moves are made and I am declared the winner!!!

Hooray! More XP AND coins. Those are things I can understand. FB gives me the chance to share my joy with all my friends. No thank you, Facebook. I'd like to keep those that I have.

I want to head back to the club but I'm afraid of that bouncer. I've hit the gym, maybe it's time to do some laundry? The fun just never ends, does it?

Oh boy, a SELECTION of washing machines. It's like I died and went to Montgomery Wards (that's an old department store that you Jersey Shore brats never heard of). Which one to choose? Silly question. The answer is the FREE one. Nothing tops of an evening of being rejected and alley-beaten like hand scrubbing your filthy, shame-ridden thong on a washboard. Whee!

What in the name of Kenmore is this foul shit? Another God damn bar. This one for 7 minutes. That's right... 7 minutes of this game is watching time slide by. You don't even get to watch your clothes agitate. It's just the same fucking screen...

Forever....

I wish I were dead...

Finally the 7 minutes is up and I have.... fresh laundry? Seriously, that's it? Fresh fucking laundry. I don't give a shit about my own damn laundry but I'm supposed to enjoy doing it for fun? God, this game sucks. I decide to head back to the club. I will fuck somebody or die trying, God damn it.

HELLO! I AM A CHEAP HARLOT WHO KEEPS MY OWN BOOZE IN A FLASK IN MY SOCK! I WAS VOTED 'MISS BEST BLOWJOB 2010' BY "DRUNKEN SKANK" MAGAZINE LAST MONTH. I WAS WONDERING IF YOU'D LIKE TO COME OUTSIDE AND WATCH ME AND MY SUBMISSIVE, BUT TRUSTING, GIRLFRIEND MAKE OUT FOR A WHILE BEFORE WE HAVE A DICK SUCKING CONTEST!

What is FTD? I need to send this guy flowers before he'll judge my dick sucking skills? Fuck. Time to freshen up the wardrobe, I guess, if I ever want to lure these men away from the siren call of another man's abs.

I go into the marketplace and am hit with so many stereotypes all boxed up neatly...

I refuse to believe I'm playing a game that would require me to purchase a 25 pack of pasta. And I play farmville so you know how low my standards are.

I finally find a new top in my price range. Only 400 coins. To quote Dolly Parton, "It costs a lot of money to look this cheap." I'm bored and ready to be done with this game so I go ahead and open up my chat box and say 'hi' to EmoBoy.

Finally, I head back to the club, desperate for someone to give me the approval I need, after wasting my entire evening working out and doing laundry. I'm sporting new clothes and a new and improved willingness to degrade myself for the slightest bit of attention... All eyes are on me. It's make or break time. I creep...

Doesn't he look suspiciously like the guy whose ass I just beat in an alley right before doing laundry? Well, maybe I'll scare him into a mercy fuck. Let's do this!

Hooray! I frightened him into going to the 'Smoosh room,' whatever the fuck that is. I don't know what it is because the screen didn't even fucking change. But I'll take that to mean "The dirty fuck room." I totally fucked that guy. I beat the shit out of him in an alley and then fucked him in the "Smoosh room." Is anyone else as wet as I am right now? I also don't know what 'DTF' stands for, so I'll just assume it means "Doing Tonya filthily." I like it filthy...

Now that I have "smooshed" I can level up. I am pleased by this because I promised myself I could quit at this point, but not before having the most truthful discussion in the entire world with my offspring:

To facilitate the reading of those with bad eyesight, our conversation is as follows:

Me: In a mood?
Emoboy: Kinda. I'm doing the stupidest thing I could be doing right now.
Me: No. I guarantee that whatever you're doing right now pales in comparison to the stupidity of what I am doing right now.

We both agreed that I was right.

My stats

2012-02-07T04:25:00.000-06:00

Back when I started this blog and had only 2 readers I used to amuse myself by looking at the stats to see what keywords people used to find my little corner of Blogger.com.

Those days are long gone. Now I am famous and have upwards of FIVE people coming by each day to read about Zsa Zsa Gabor. The upside of that is I have more people to talk to and I get a feeling of smug importance that keeps me warm at night. The downside is that I don't see as many of the strange search results if I don't look for them daily. My weekly searches used to be filled with treasures like:

"Hot granny fucking"
"Granny getting drilled hard"
"Dog fucking granny"
and of course:
"Is Betty White an atheist?"

That's the only reason anyone ever came here until The Dirty Disher took pity on my blogging ass and stuck me on her blogroll. Thanks to her I get a little more traffic and now most of the people who find my blog are actually looking for me instead of randomly searching for pornographic pictures of someone's grandmother. For the most part, a search here now is from someone trying to find the picture I made of Casey Anthony. That wasn't even a good one. I liked this one a lot better. Whatever, though. You can't understand what people like.

They also search for Nunavut. Again, I think they just want the pictures. Although a few weeks ago someone came along that I've never heard from before and told me the proper pronunciation (I asked in the post). It's not "None of it" it's "Noo na voot."

So anyway, the searches are a little boring now. Nunavut and Casey Anthony duke it out in my searches. And lead searches for "Atheist Granny" at a margin I don't want to admit to myself. Sadly, Betty White is no longer a contender anymore and that's pretty fucking tragic. There's still a little nugget of interesting in there though. Here are my search results from today:

fuck you

nunavut

zsa zsa gabor

nova scotia

atheist granny

free winter scene with cottage and beautiful trees with snow desktop backgrounds in ontario

atheism in quebec

atheist nunavut

jesus ass

magda gabor

That's a lot of searches. I don't usually get that many hits from searches. I guess today was a big day for people who want to send out a big "Fuck you!" to Nunavut. Please do not think I'm popular. I didn't want to put the numbers down but I can't copy/paste the list without the chart coming along too. It's a fluke. Every single one of those people came by accident and left just as soon as they got here, I promise.

So, ignore the numbers and look at the searches. I have to admit, I'm pretty proud that "Fuck you" leads here. Much more proud than you can imagine. This is almost as sweet as "Is Betty White an atheist?" Almost. Nunavut shows up too but that's to be expected. People love poor, sad Nunavut. Zsa Zsa Gabor makes me happy. Nova Scotia is another hot image search, I assume. Next is "Atheist Granny!" Hooray! FOUR whole people wanted to find me today! I'm famous, bitches! No, I DON'T care that it was probably the same person searching 4 times. Why do you always have to bring me down? Next is a frighteningly specific request for a beautiful winter scene in the snow. I feel like I should write them a letter of apology because they came looking for Thomas Kincaid and left with memories of me making a bed fort with Zsa Zsa Gabor's leg stump. I should really put an apology on the header. Next some Canadian atheism searches and then there it is:

Jesus ass.

My nipples got so hard they poked through my mattress when I saw that (Yes, I type in bed lying on my stomach-what of it?) Jesus ass. I want to know this person. I want to know the one who has come with this search. Forget God- THEY are my Messiah. I will follow them to the ends of the internet to learn their ways. The ways of the Jesus ass. Every now and then you get a search so funny and awesome that you just wish you could crawl through your computer and come out of theirs. I would do that now. Climb through this screen and pop my head out in my hero's home. I imagine the searcher to be a connoisseur of fine ass. He (it's a he) probably has ass-related art all over his home. Maybe a stuffed ass over his mantle that he shot himself. There would be ass books and ass paintings and the most comfortable toilet seat you could possibly imagine. "Ass Jesus" wouldn't be satisfied with a cold, hard ring on his shitter- no, it's one of them fancy, heated Japanese jobs.

So, while you're going about your business today while I'm lying in my bed asleep, I want you to try to be a little more like Ass Jesus. Ask yourself what Ass Jesus would do as you walk around. Ass Jesus would provide a comfortable place for his neighbors to sit and rest and he would lance any boils you had back there. Ass Jesus is a loving God and you should be more like him. Or do whatever. I've been trying to end this post for 20 minutes now and I can't think of a suitable end.

Done.

I need a rant

2012-02-06T21:51:00.001-06:00

I've been trying to fire myself up over something for a few days and I can't think of anything. I did have a good time mocking James Gardner's daughter the other day but does anyone even know who that bitch is? I want to shred someone a new asshole. I've learned recently that my bitchiness is held at bay if I can mock someone mercilessly a couple of times a week. Yes, my inner child is a bitchy Queen. Beneath these DD tits lies the heart of Paul Lynde.

Suggestions?

Happy Birthday Zsa Zsa!

2012-02-06T15:26:00.000-06:00

Fuck the Superbowl, the big story this week is Zsa Zsa's birthday. She's 95 years old today. She's almost a century old. She's missing a leg, has a stomach tube, is constantly getting infections and still she lives on. She's like the grandfather from Flowers in the Attic. The only thing she's missing is a handful of incest-babies living in the west wing of her mansion waiting for her to kick off.

Prince VanWhatever is throwing her a party and inviting over 100 people. There will be music and a special song written just for Z-nasty. The party will then end by 4PM so Zsa Zsa can get to bed on time.

So, happy birthday Zsa Zsa! I'd wish you many more but I think we both know that would be a lie. I want you to die. You made it to 95, that's pretty good. No need to be a showoff.

Things I learned from having the 2012 Superbowl on...

2012-02-05T20:56:00.000-06:00

1. "Pick, pick, pick, pick, pick!" Apparently means you want someone to get the ball.
2. My husband hates the Patriots. Why? "Because they're the fucking Patriots."
3. Life is so much easier when your husband's team choice wins.
4. I still don't understand football.

The Great Sock Caper

2012-02-02T14:47:00.000-06:00

I am the sort of person who tends to show my love through teasing. I know that it's a mean thing to a lot of people because my mom's best friend, Connie was that way when I was growing up. She was abrasive and a little mean but she would have done anything for me. One of my first memories is of mom and Connie taking me to the Emergency Room to get stitches in the back of my head and my mother was carrying me and I was screaming and Connie was chasing behind us trying to put my shoe on as my mother ran. That's a woman who cares: one who will chase after you in the rain while you're dripping blood out of your head to make sure your feet are warm. I understand it now: when Dino had his heart attack I spent our first visit washing out his bedpan and tidying up his desk. I think Connie would have approved. It's hard to say "Oh my God, I thought you were dead." Which I did.. When they told me he had a heart attack they didn't tell me he was alive for a full 10 seconds or so and in those moments I was a widow.

Why can't I ever stay on topic?

So anyway, I was a sissy-baby when I was little but I grew up to be like Connie. I understand her perfectly now that I've walked in her shoes and while I was single I was harder than I am now. I still loved my EmoBoy more than life itself and I told him that all the time but I was never the June Cleaver type he wanted. He has mentioned on more than one occasion that my parenting tended to be more along the lines of Roseanne and I tend to agree with him. June didn't have fuck-all to do all day. Roseanne had a succession of crappy jobs taking her energy and I can relate to her. She wasn't sugar and spice and everything nice but you know that bitch loved her children with the ferocity of a mother bear and in the end I'm willing to wager that my kid is funnier than 90% of the people I know.

It wasn't always that way, though. When he was very small EmoBoy was a little whinypants just like his Mommy. Anytime I made a joke at his expense he would break into tears and run off to his room to pout. Granted, he was 4, but come on...

The Christmas when he was about 5 was a painful one for EmoBoy. The prior year his toys didn't go under the tree-Santa brought them while he slept on Xmas Eve. Before that he was too little to not tear into the gifts when my back was turned so they didn't go under the tree either. This was the first year that he had to look at those presents and know that he couldn't open them. He could read his name and he knew damn good and well that there were TOYS in those packages. Toys that he had to have RIGHT FUCKING NOW DAMMIT! And the only thing standing between him and Christmas morning was me. He tried to look cute and pathetic by staring at the presents and then sighing dramatically but my heart of stone was not moved. He tried to do other things but the presents kept beckoning him with their shiny bows and sheer paper that called out to him: "Open us, Levi! Everything you've ever wanted is inside!" But EmoBoy still believed that his mother was the Queen of everything in the world and he knew he didn't want to face my wrath. Finally, he asked if it would be possible to open just ONE present. I acquiesced to his request because I had been a 5 year old once myself and I made the same plea with my parents and they would generally allow one early present. "But I get to pick the present." I added.

Like most parents of young children, I purchased a variety of items for my son's Christmas. 80% of which were toys and 20% of which... well, they were clothes. I don't know why I bought him clothes and wrapped them up thinking they would excite him. He was 5. I could have let him run around naked and hosed him off once a day and he'd have been just fine with that. So, the imp inside me decided it would be fun to hand him a package of socks that I'd purchased. I was also going to give him an action figure that I'd purchased but I thought it would be fun to dash his hopes first. Why? Because kids are evil and sometimes it's fun to be mean to them.

I can still see his smile as he ripped the paper away in excitement. Who knew what toy lay inside? It could be ANYTHING! It could be a new car, or some drawing supplies, or a new Batman toy, or... Socks? Fucking SOCKS? Are you fucking shitting me?

Levi let out a mighty howl and threw the socks to the side. Tricked! Tricked by socks! Unfair! He screamed and howled and ran around the room in circles kicking things until I had to stop him. I mean, it's one thing to be pissed off at a dirty trick, but you don't need to go kicking shit. As soon as he calmed down I gave him a toy to open and he was happier-but only a little. He pouted over that trick for the rest of the day.

So the next year I learned my lesson and never tormented him again.

HAHAHAHA! Right. The next year I bought TWO pairs of socks and vowed that there would be socks every year. Levi remembered the dirty trick from the prior year and threw the socks across the room and kept opening presents.

The next year I decided he was old enough to appreciate a little effort and after he'd opened all his gifts I hauled in a box about 3 feet across and 3 feet deep. He was quivering with excitement because every kid knows the big presents are the best ones. He unwrapped the box and opened it, only to meet another wrapped present. He was so puzzled I had to tell him to open that one too. Yes, we did the box in the box thing as my stepdad and step-stepmom watched on in amusement. I added loose change and rocks and all kinds of shit to make the various boxes rattle or appear heavy. Finally, after about 8 boxes or so, he reached the final product: 2 aluminum pie dishes that were duct taped together. And they were duct taped WELL so that unwrapping it took awhile. But, at last, he got them apart and was met by....

Fucking socks.

Levi HOWLED! My stepparents have the video somewhere and I really would give anything to see it again. The kid HOWLED!!! He took the pie pan and threw the socks as he was screaming at me and I was cackling. He threw them behind the couch, up on the ceiling fan, anywhere and as far as he could throw them until something caught his eye.... One of the socks he'd thrown had a dollar bill sticking out of it. He stopped mid-scream and began scrambling to gather the other socks because he'd deduced (correctly) that there was a dollar bill in every single one of those socks he'd thrown around.

The next year I bought him a canister of jelly beans from the local magic store and when he went to open them flying socks bounced out of the can. He was not amused.

By the time he was 10 or so he began to expect Christmas socks and he no longer got angry when he opened them. It was more of a "Yeah, yeah, let's get the sock thing over so we can get on with the real presents." So I decided to mix things up a bit. EmoBoy's birthday is in January- only a month and a day after Xmas and I thought I'd mix things up a bit for my big show stopper. And this is what I did:

I went down to Hobby Lobby and bought some of those styrofoam cake display things... You know, the things a lot of people use for wedding cakes? They are shaped like a cake and you can decorate them like a cake but honey, they ain't no damn cake. I then hollowed out the inside of the layers and I filled them with a very special filling of my own creation. I then lovingly frosted my son's birthday cake, slammed some candles into it and then brought it out for the birthday boy. He blew out the candles and I told him that he was big enough to cut his own cake so why didn't he do that and then serve us all a slice?

EmoBoy sawed on that cake for minutes before finally getting through the first piece. Bless his heart, by this time he was old enough to be polite and as he said later, "I was really afraid of what that cake was going to taste like!" Like styrofoam, maybe? Finally, he got the knife all the way through and lifted out a slice. The socks slid out perfectly, just as I'd hoped. He had a plate full of socks and he was finally old enough to laugh.

I haven't really done a lot with the socks since then. Honestly, I shot my wad with the cake. That one's pretty hard to top. But I do try to remember to send him socks every couple of years or so and he loves them now. He tried to explain the socks to his dad's family once and they all just looked at him and said they thought it was mean. Perhaps it was mean but the kid never unwrapped a sock that there wasn't a toy right behind it and it's our tradition. He hasn't had a Christmas here in years but the next time he does he knows what will be underneath the tree and if there weren't any socks he'd be disappointed.

Happy black history month

2012-02-01T16:20:00.000-06:00

I've been doing a lot of writing the past couple of days so I haven't had a lot of interest in blogging. I'm sorry- I'm sure it won't last. There have really only been 2 different things that caught my blogging eye over the past several days. One is something I saw while I was in Walmart yesterday. Yes, a horror at Walmart. Who would have ever thunk it? The other is Black History Month.

Walmart: On our way back to the grocery aisle we passed by a Valentine's display which included a tiny little Tshirt for a toddler girl. It was all pink and glittery and said, "Chicks <3 Superheros." I immediately thought about Penny Sociologist and by the time I was done being outraged I thought I should get a picture of it and figured I'd get one on the way out. Naturally, I forgot.

The second thing is that as a white woman I'm not really sure how we're supposed to observe Black History Month. Is this for all people or just black ones or what? What do we do here? Also, is it a time to reflect on the atrocities of slavery or the inequity of how black people are treated now or do we celebrate how far black people have come in this country? I'm really not sure. Yes, a google search would answer these questions but then I wouldn't have a blog post now would I? So, I figure I'll celebrate by rereading the narrative of the life of Frededrick Douglass. I enjoy reading historical accounts of slaves and how people justified treating their fellow human beings like objects.

Crazy

2012-01-30T16:15:00.000-06:00

I was reading an article on The Daily Crabbie about a man who cut up another man with an ax and then feasted upon his body parts in a cemetery. Naturally, the man has a history of mental illnesses and voices that tell him to do some pretty jacked up shit and it got me to thinking about mental hospitals. Remember those? There used to be these big places where we put people who were a danger to themselves and others until they were able to go out among polite society.

Almost all of them were closed and the public breathed a sigh of relief because they were horrible places that tortured people. But were they really? I mean, I only worked in one so I'm no expert but I don't recall beating anyone or hearing about anyone who did. And even if some people were abused, is the answer to close down the hospitals? How about fixing the abuse instead of releasing mentally ill people out in the streets?

I remember visiting a friend in prison a few years ago- don't judge, do you know the statistics of how many people in the U.S. have done time?- and there was this little 3 or 4 year old boy that was so horrible and disruptive I actually complained to one of the guards. The guard agreed with me and went to tell the parent that she needed to calm down her child but then learned the boy was severely autistic and there wasn't anything that could be done. I calmed down afterward because what are you going to do? But I did spend some time looking his mother over. The poor woman looked terrible. I mean just awful. Her face was just a mask of grim resignation and all I could think of was "Why do you put yourself through that?" Yes, I'm opening myself up for criticism here but fuck it: This poor woman was in over her head and I feel sorry for her. That poor child needed to be in an environment that was situated for him instead of being raised by that poor, tired woman whose whole life will involve caring for a severely autistic child for the rest of her life. I suppose if she wants to do that it's her choice but aren't there any institutional options? Is keeping a severely autistic child in the home really the best answer for everyone? Some might say that it would be selfish to institutionalize a child like that. I say it's kind of selfish to keep a child like that and try to force him to live in this chaotic world. I used to take care of a man with autism and he would lose his shit if you changed anything. I mean, if there was an outing planned that would interfere with dinner time you needed to warn him WEEKS in advance and then he would be tormented the whole time and asking questions about it. I cannot imagine taking him to a prison visiting room and expecting him to not lose his shit.

But back to the mentally ill adult, surely you can agree with me that there comes a point in time where people NEED to be institutionalized, evaluated, and kept until they're deemed to no longer be a threat to others. The world I live in works this way: When you start hearing voices telling you to kill then it's time to turn yourself over to those who know better than you.

I think we were all fed a bunch of shit about mental institutions. I think that we all believe the reason funding was slashed was because they weren't needed anymore because of medication breakthroughs and because we as a society had evolved beyond warehousing people. But I remember when it happened and it wasn't for those reasons. It was done because of money. Because taking care of mentally ill people was no longer the same priority that it once was.

Am I wrong? Disagree with me if you want to but then tell me if you have a better plan or if you think things are fine the way they are. Tell me if you think that poor man who got chopped to death and then eaten would have met the same fate if there were more public services available to the mentally ill. I really want to know.

Victor Borge

2012-01-30T15:10:00.000-06:00

By a coincidence, I wound up going to youtube to listen to The Minute Waltz and wound up watching some old clips of Victor Borge. Remember him? Not unless you're over 80, you don't. I remember seeing him on TV or something during the 70s and I thought he was hilarious. I also thought the music was pretty. I'm 30+ years older now but he's still humorous and I still think the music is pretty. Can one like classical music just because? I mean, is it possible to just say "Hey, that's nice!" without understanding music and going into detail about why this is that? I feel the same way about paintings. I don't know jack shit about art in general but I still like looking at it and listening to it because it makes me feel happy. Mr. Borge was a neat guy and I would have liked to have known him. He probably would have said the greatest compliment is enjoying things just because they're pretty. He seemed pretty down-to-Earth.

2012-01-30T01:09:00.001-06:00

I lost 5 pounds!

2012-01-28T16:50:00.001-06:00

I lost a bag of flour!

I keep meaning to take pictures of myself as I lose weight but then I have to fix my hair or something and what, am I going to the prom here?

I last weighed on January 11th and I was 273 pounds. Today I am 268. That's 5 lbs. in 17 days and that's a great amount. I actually feel really good about that and I'm psyched to continue going. Dino is down a lot. I'd say almost a whole pants size. He's probably lost 15 pounds and doesn't follow the diet as strictly as me. Unfair. Well, no matter. Slow and steady wins the race.

Good Morning

2012-01-28T08:57:00.000-06:00

Insomnia in full force and I was up by 5:00 this morning. I decided to use my time wisely. I've cleaned everything, answered my emails, made a phone call about a part-time writing gig (Thanks Bima), and I'm now doing all the laundry. I plan to have everything for the day accomplished by noon so I can sit around in an exhaustion haze. What have you done this morning? Any exciting plans for your Saturday?

Alberta, the home of Frimmy!

2012-01-27T03:33:00.002-06:00

You thought you were safe.

You thought I had Ranch dressing on the brain and forgot all about Canada, didn't you? Well, you were fucking wrong. It's time. It's time to learn about Alberta. Stop your crying, you're scaring your sister. If you're very good when we're done you can have a juice box. Maybe.

This slapdash, copy-paste job is brought to you, as always, by the letter Wikipedia and by whatever travel site I happen to come across. I don't fucking know. I write this shit as I go. I have as much an idea about Alberta as you do right now.

Alberta houses 3.7 million people, making it the largest of the 3 prairie provinces. What's a prairie province, you ask? Gawd, do I have to click ALL the links for you? The Canadian Prairies is a region of Canada, specifically in western Canada, which may correspond to several different definitions, natural or political. Notably, the Prairie provinces or simply the Prairies comprise the provinces of Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Manitoba, as they are largely covered by prairie. Think of them as the Nebraska, Kansas, and Iowa of Canada. And then wake up, dammit.

Edmonton is the capital of Alberta and the largest city is Calgary. You've heard of Calgary before, right? Sure you have. You'll get that juice box yet. Alberta's economy is one of the strongest in Canada, supported by the burgeoning petroleum industry and to a lesser extent, agriculture and technology. The per capita GDP in 2007 was by far the highest of any province in Canada at C$74,825. This was 61% higher than the national average of C$46,441 and more than twice that of some of the Atlantic provinces. In 2006 the deviation from the national average was the largest for any province in Canadian history.^[39] According to the 2006 census,^[40] the median annual family income after taxes was $70,986 in Alberta (compared to $60,270 in Canada as a whole). This is good to know. When the economy finishes collapsing down here in the U.S. we can all sleep in Frimmy's driveway. The weather there ranges from a high of 70s in the Calgary summer to 5 in January. Even colder if you want to get all metric-y on the subject. Fact remains, anywhere that has a high of 70 in fucking July is cold so let's all be sure to bring a sweater. Also, a road map as I don't think Frimmy lives in Calgary.

Here's a picture of the license plate we'll all see bearing down on us every morning as Frimmy drives off to work (Cuz we're all sleeping in her driveway, remember? Try to keep up with me here).

Alberta has consistently led in annual rates of growth and job creation. While natural resources, particularly petroleum products, were long the base of Alberta’s economic success, the province’s economy today is diverse and sophisticated. Well, aren't you fucking special, Alberta?

Facts about Alberta that are guaranteed to make you puke:

Alberta has retained its triple-A credit rating, despite running a deficit for two years in a row.

One in 15 Alberta jobs is directly related to energy.

Alberta ranks as the world's most attractive jurisdiction for mineral exploration and development..

Alberta has the sixth ranked education system in the world and the best in the English speaking world.

More than 12 per cent of Alberta’s total land area is protected in 500 provincial parks, five national parks, and three national wildlife areas. Five of Canada’s 13 UNESCO World Heritage Sites are in Alberta, including Jasper National Park, 370 km from Edmonton.

Alberta is home to a pair of the world’s most magnificent skiing areas, in Banff and Jasper National Parks in the Rocky Mountains. Much of northern Alberta is boreal forests, which offer great cross-country skiing and wildlife viewing.

Alberta offers the lowest income tax rates in Canada and some of the lowest in North America.

Ooooo, look at me. I'm ALBERTA! I pay my bills on time mostly. Because I'm better than you. Everyone here has a JOB and pays their TAXES that are lower than yours are but it doesn't matter because our corporations pay their share too. Our kids read from textbooks that don't have corporate sponsorships with soda companies. Aren't we fucking great? Don't you wish you could be like us?

Why don't you stick a fucking moose in it, Alberta?

I'm tired of reading about Alberta. Everyone there is well-off and the economy is booming and they don't have to use the homeless as weather stripping like we do down here and I'm sick of it. Now for some facts about Alberta THEY DON'T WANT YOU TO KNOW:

Their rivers are choked with lead paint.

Alberta was originally settled by a group of underage moose aficionados. 500 men and women settled there in 1742 with the sole purpose of creating a town where a man and his 15 year old moose could have sexual congress without the Queen getting all up in their shit. The province is named after the pet moose of their founding father, Herbert K. Mammalpumper, a known moose-toucher who was ran out of Nunavut in disgrace 20 years prior, leaving behind a clutch of half human-half polar bear hybrid bastards.
The largest religion in Alberta is Satanism and mandatory child-sacrifice is practiced on all high holy days.
Famous Albertans include Adolph Hitler, Celine Dion, the Kardashian family, and Michael Lohan. Courtney Stodden owns a summer home in Alberta but maintains dual citizenship between Canada and Hell.
Albertan schools open every day reciting the American Pledge of Allegiance backwards while they burn our flag.
The sagging jeans fad began in Edmonton.
Calgary, Alberta is the largest producer and consumer of Crocs in the entire free world.

I don't even know why I try. Every fucking post I write about Canada is better than the one before. What problems do they have? I decided to find out in a very scientific way. By googling "Alberta problems" and then copying the first thing that came up:

With its prosperity cheques, low taxes and voluminous pages of help-wanted ads, Alberta has become the Big Rock Candy Mountain to thousands of Canadians seeking a better life.

Recent figures from Statistics Canada show the province's population is increasing at more than five times the national average, and there's no end in sight to the migration.

Too many people are coming. Oh boo hoo. Poor fucking Alberta... What will they do? And what the fuck is a "prosperity cheque?" Is that some sort of moose-fucking terminology the rest of us are unaware of? The whole province is skeevy and I want no part of it.

Also, not to alarm you but the press has been keeping a secret for the last 15 or 20 years. Hobos have been vanishing at an alarming rate in the area. I'm not saying Frimmy is killing the bums in Alberta but this was found at the scene of the last crime:

Still think Canada is cool? You do? Well then, go to your room. No, you can't have a juice box dammit. Oh, the high school cafeteria thing? Yeah, I guess I should do that.

This is an easy one. Alberta is the rich kid table. They all have perfectly capped teeth and eat lunches packed by their maids. The maids who hate them all but she can't leave because then she'd have to give up her prosperity cheque. Instead she just feeds them a little bit of arsenic and lead paint every day. Bon Appetit, Fuckers! Now, scram, Mommy needs to get her drink on.

Happy Birthday, EmoBoy

2012-01-26T18:52:00.001-06:00

EmoBoy never had a nose as a child. It was just a little button that I loved to kiss and chew on. Because I am nasty.

EmoBoy turned 17 today and he did it in Shitville. He's indescribably happy and is kicking himself for not moving there sooner. I'm sure the excitement will wear off after awhile but for now he's happy. His grandparents (my stepdad and step-stepmom) took him to his favorite restaurant again tonight. It's a shitty little chain pizza restaurant that he loved to eat at as a child and either his tastes haven't changed or he's eating his memories because he ate there the first night and he's eating there on his birthday this evening.

I called at the absolute perfect time because he was outside (I assume smoking) and we were able to talk about 10 minutes before he started freezing. He said he invited Bianca (his sister) and Zaden to eat with them. Bianca, Dad, and Terry haven't spoken in about 4 years now and they've never met their grandson once. They insisted Bianca was making him up for the first year of his life. Levi says they are all eating together right now as we speak. Laughing. And that Dad is taking pictures of Zaden and they've fallen in love with him.

This is historic.

I told Levi, "This is because of you. You did this. You're healing our family." He laughed and said he felt that way too but didn't want to say so. He's beyond happy. They're all bonding over the baby. Asking if the baby can come over to visit. My heart is so happy for Bianca. She needed this so much. Her dad was her entire world to her and he just dumped her. Will he hurt her again? He will do what his wife says to do and as long as she stays on Terry's good side it will all be good. Terry wears the pants AND the shirts in that family but she's not an unfair god. If you can act right then Terry won't interfere.

Am I a teensy bit hurt? Well, just between you and me: I feel a little left out, why wouldn't I? My son wanted to live with someone else and is having the time of his life while people who don't speak to me are making up. Yes, I admit it. There's a tiny little gnawing of jealousy inside of me but that's all it is... a tiny one. I would feel this for life if it meant that EmoBoy is safe and happy and that Bianca and Zaden have family again. I won't ever admit it to anyone but you. You'll keep my secret, yes?

But this is amazing. This is tearing down the Berlin Wall level of family relations. I am crossing my fingers and toes hoping that Bianca has her Daddy back. She loves him and needs him. I want Zaden to have more grandparents. Please, let it all work out. Let them all fall back in love and live happily ever after. My mother, Ursula, was not invited. Levi told Bianca not to invite her. That he didn't think he wanted to deal with her on his birthday and Bianca insisted that she didn't want her there either. Levi told me he still wants to have a relationship with her but didn't want her at his party. That sounds healthy to me. Ursula wouldn't want to share the spotlight with someone else anyway. Better to visit with her at another time.

The only bad news is that he was supposed to have a movie date tonight with his first girlfriend that he found again after moving back. Her name is Ali and she was my favorite of all his girls. What a little kiss-ass she was. "Hello, Mrs. Granny. You look so pretty today!" I sure loved that girl. Anyway, he didn't hear from her today and she didn't make it to dinner but he seemed unfazed. I asked about her and he told me he hadn't heard from her and it was all good because that meant he didn't have to spend his birthday money on taking them out. He said he figures something important happened and wasn't at all upset. Can this be a new EmoBoy? Oh please, I hope it is.

More good news: Dino got a promotion. He's been doing a half and half thing at work where he manages a couple of nights a week and waits tables a couple of nights. He went in yesterday to ask for a raise and they offered him a salaried position as manager. Since he's been down that road before he told them no. It would have been a 50% increase in wages but it also would have been 65+ hours a week and he said he just couldn't do it. They agreed upon another title, I don't remember what but he's going to stay hourly and work 45 hours per week with a $2 an hour raise. I'm so happy for him and so proud. Everyone around me is doing amazing things and I have to believe that's because of me. It is, dammit! It's all because of me.

Congratulations to everyone and I hope everything is smooth sailing from here on out. Every single one of the people I told you about have been through quite enough shit and deserve some peace and harmony in their lives. It's time for everyone to take a deep breath, relax, and just enjoy sharing their lives with each other. That's the greatest gift EmoBoy could ever ask for and even he would agree with that.

Things I DO like...

2012-01-25T20:55:00.001-06:00

I like a man who orders Scotch. Over the years I've had many, many people order many, many drinks and I judge people accordingly. Without a doubt, men who drink Scotch make me swoon. There's a type of man who drinks good Scotch. Middle-aged, smart, funny, and unpretentious. I like men who come in and look around for a moment at my bottles before ordering then ordering the best we have. I like it because it shows they're interested in something nice but don't act snooty by assuming we have it. They'll take what we have and they drink it on the rocks. Adding anything to it ruins the entire thing for me. Sometimes they'll have a little lemon on the side if they have a cold or something but that's it.

They sip their scotch and savor it. They don't gulp but they don't nurse it all night either. They're good, reliable tippers but not showoffs. They are quality and I treat them accordingly. Eventually they become regulars and I ask them what brand they prefer. I then see to it that we keep a bottle in stock for him and he never goes anywhere else.

He likes to flirt a little with me but mainly he comes in for companionship. He gets my jokes but doesn't give me that "What the fuck are you doing HERE?" question. He doesn't automatically assume I'm a Madonna or a whore and he never asks me out. He comes in a few nights a week for a couple of hours and chats with me and makes friends with the other regulars. If it's someone's birthday he always buys them a drink but never flashes his cash. If he finds out that you're having financial troubles there may be a $100 bill at the bottom of your tip jar but you'll never know if he put it there and even if you know it was him he will tell you he doesn't know what you're talking about before changing the subject.

He is quiet, self-confident, and a loner. He has a decent job but when you question him about it he'll mock it slightly and tell you it's much more dull than you could ever imagine. He is understated and elegant and would never mock you for eating Ranch dressing at dinner. Or so I assume. I never dated him. He's got 2 ex-wives and he's not interested in women all that much anymore. Besides, he was always too old for me. If you're the bartender and you head to your bar for a drink on your night off you always smile if he's there because he's going to tell the bartender before you walk in that all your drinks are on him and he'll be the best conversationalist in the joint. He'll then make sure you get to your car safely and never expect so much as a hearty handshake.

Her internet must still be down.

2012-01-25T19:18:00.000-06:00

I just realized Angie hasn't been on in hours. Let us all bow our heads in prayer for the victims of the great AT&T tech support slaughter of 2012.

Ranch Dressing!!!

2012-01-25T10:44:00.002-06:00

As you may have realized from yesterday's posts, I really hate Ranch dressing. Yes, I'm not above swiping my hot wing through it on occasion but there's never a bottle of this shit in my house. It offends me. It's also the #1 salad dressing in the U.S. so that's why I never really got into my hatred before. Because chances are, 90% of all 5 of you who read here (4.5 of you, to be exact) eat this shit. So I have hidden my disdain but now that I let it out I feel as if I must continue to rail against this shit.

What do you see in this crap? I mean, it's not gross but it's just Ranch. It's like Mayo to me. White, creamy, and boring. No, I don't own any mayo either. That stuff IS gross. What is it about Ranch that's so tasty? Why do you need an entire bottle of it for your meal? Maybe it's just me. I have funny ideas on what's proper and not. As a bartender I knew that anyone who ordered Black Velvet & Coke would not be leaving a tip. It just doesn't happen. In 10 years of bar work I never got a nickel from anyone who ordered Black Velvet and I've been known to ask whether it's served during the interview. Black Velvet could only be tackier if it had a little shot of Ranch dressing on the side. There are other drinks that bug me but that's my worst one. Fuck Black Velvet.

Where was I? Oh yes, Ranch dressing. I just don't get it. One of my biggest pet peeves as a server was when people would ask me our salad dressings and I'd rattle off the usual. For a while I even tried to answer them with "The usual" but everyone always asked me "What's the usual?" so I had to stop. We have every salad dressing available in every restaurant in the midwest. Ranch, Bleu Cheese, French, Italian, 1000 Island, Honey Mustard, and some sort of Balsamic Vinegarette. You're at IHOP, what are you expecting? Then they would sit there and think for awhile before announcing, "I'll have the Ranch." Of course you'll have the fucking Ranch. Did you really think you were going to have something else? I already wrote down "Ranch" on my ticket book while I was rattling them off to you. Just order the goddamn Ranch next time and let me get on with my business. I'll bring a trough of it to slop your Ranch Monster with. Just hang tight. One time I was working in this little diner in a little town (Shout outs, KayLeigh!) and this old woman came in with her husband. She thought she was someone. She looked middle class to me but she had this voice that can only be described as "hoity toity." She actually looked down her nose at me as she ordered. How she did it is a mystery because I was standing above her but bitch had skills. So she asks what salad dressings I have and I tell her and she becomes visibly upset. "Is that all?" she queries, jowls-a-tremble. "Yup!" I answer cheerfully because sometimes the most fun you can have with a customer is just making them unhappy. The fucking name on the restaurant had the word "DINER" in it, you insufferable twat. This isn't gourmet dining. Eat your hot beef sandwich and shut the fuck up. She frowns at me and then says "I'll have the Raunch."

The Raunch? Bitch pronounced it like it rhymed with launch. Try that. Try tilting your head back, and looking down your nose at someone standing above you and then say out loud, "I'll have the Raunch." You can not do that shit without laughing. This bitch, however, didn't laugh but I did inside. It was so funny I made her repeat it. "What was that?" "The Raunch. I'll have the Raunch dressing." My tip was shot anyway so I figured there was no harm in responding with, "OH! The RANCH! You want Ranch dressing, like Hidden Valley! Oh, yes. We have that." Then I hurried away so I could mock her with the other waitresses. KayLeigh and I got a lot of mileage out of that one. "I'll have the Raunch dressing." Bitch, you're sitting in a diner in Bumfuck, Missouri eating Ranch dressing served to you by a waitress in a Tshirt. Get over yourself.

So, that's my take on Ranch dressing. I don't get it. I do know, however, that everyone else on Earth gets it except Dino so I just shrug and eat my Italian dressing and ignore them until they want a bowl of that shit. But it IS a little tacky, yes? Just a little? I searched for a clip I saw many years ago of a comedian (Maybe Bill Hicks?) talking about the kind of girls he dates. "The waiter asks if they'd like to try some of the house vinagerette which is made with blah blah blah and the girls I date are always like 'No thanks, I'll have the RAAAAANCH!'" With this foghorny, nasal voice. That's how I always hear people ordering it. "THE RAAAANCH!" Bellowed through their noses. Even if I liked Ranch dressing I'd keep that shit a secret. There are some foods which should only be enjoyed in private. Ranch is one. Little Debbie snack cakes are another. I fucking love those little lard balls but you don't let other people know that shit. You're supposed to sneak so you're not judged. I buy Little Debbies like teenagers buy condoms. "I'll have a comb, and some mouthwash, and some toilet paper, and a Wall Street Journal, and a box of Little Debbies." Then I throw the rest of that shit away and eat my little nastycakes in secret where no one can see me. THAT is how you're supposed to eat Ranch dressing, dammit.

As for Black Velvet there's no excuse for drinking that shit ever.

More Entitlement

2012-01-25T00:29:00.000-06:00

I feel like bitching about customers today. No, I haven't waited on any in over a year (thank the nonexistent Lord) but I still hear from the occasional server and that shit stabs me in the heart because I can't seem to forget the... shock of some peoples' behavior.

I am FB friends with The Bitchy Waiter. I really don't read his blog much because I can only handle so much bitching about your job but he's a funny guy and extremely talented and occasionally I check in to see what's happening on his wall. Tonight he had a picture up that reminded me why I hate people and restaurant customers in particular.

No, your eyes do not deceive you. That is, indeed, a special little snowflake scribbling on the wall of a restaurant with her crayons while Mommy snaps a photo. Mommy then thought it was so cute she immediately uploaded it with her phone and captioned it with, "She thought the wall was boring so she added a little color. lol"

Let that just soak in for a moment, would you? Wallow in what it's like to be part of the self-indulgent youtube generation. Imagine a life where you allow your child to deface another person's property and then take pictures to show it to the rest of the world. Is that a bowl of Ranch dressing I spy under the napkins? Ha, I'm just kidding. They haven't eaten yet. If they had Princess's little dress would be covered in crumbs and ketchup and half her meal would be scattered across the table. But there's a bowl of Ranch dressing coming to that table. Oh yes, there is.

Karina thought this was so adorable she had to share it and Karina has three other friends who 'liked' this photo. That means there are at least four people on this Earth who think children vandalizing a restaurant is funny shit. I wonder how Karina feels about frog rape? I'll bet you she thinks that shit is hilarious.

As a waitress I put up with a lot of shit but I would have marched my fat ass over to the table and announced to the child that she couldn't do that. Mommy would have been offended by my interference but I wouldn't give a shit. Bitch would have thought twice the next time she let her spawn scribble all over someone else's wallpaper.

Entitlement. Where do they get this shit?

You may remember a few months ago I talked about how I went to Petco and there was a middle aged woman there with 2 Golden Retrievers and they shit in the aisle right in front of me and when I pointed it out to her she became angry with me. Angry because I dared to tell her that her dogs SHIT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STORE! Indignantly told me that the clerk said they would clean it up. "What do you want from me?" She asked. "How about not taking unhousebroken dogs out in public?" I answered. She stormed off in a huff and when she got outside the 2nd dog took a shit on the sidewalk right in front of the door. Why should she clean it up? There are peons to do that for her.

Bitch, are you Mariah Carey?

What world do these people live in? How does the mind work this way? How does one begin to think that it's appropriate to let your dog shit in a store and to not even APOLOGIZE much less clean up your own shit? I would never ask someone to clean up my dogs' feces. The thought would not even pop into my head. I haven't had another person clean up my vomit since I was 8 (with the exception of the times I threw up in a parking lot after a night of binge drinking. Sorry about that). If I have the flu and a fever of 103, I clean up my own vomit. When I had my son I bled all over the hospital sheets and changed them. Because that shit is nasty and I don't have entitlement running through my veins. Oh, but I wish I did! How easy life would be. These are the same people who ask people for money. "Can I have some money?" they ask. Like I fucking owe it to them. How do you wake up and decide "Today I'm going to ask people to pay my bills!" I got hit up by an acquaintance on Facebook last week (Yes, I spend an inordinate amount of time there). I worked with this guy for less than a month. He worked with me a couple of weeks and we never spoke outside of work but he's one of those people who friends everyone he knows so when the request came I accepted it and we never speak. Last week he sends me a private message telling me about how his car's broke down and he needs $60.

Have you no SHAME?

First of all, I'm his mother's age and it's exceedingly inappropriate to ask someone who isn't a peer for money. Secondly, we're of the opposite sex and while he's gay it would still be difficult for me to explain to my husband why I'm sending money to a man half my age. No, I didn't give him money. I didn't have $60 to give him but I wouldn't have anyway. Bitch, that is TACKY! And you know he sent out mass PMs to everyone. You know he found himself in a jam and so he decided to send that exact same message to every single one of his Facebook friends hoping someone would bite. And someone probably did. Facebook is the devil.

There are a lot of things better than they were when I was a kid. I'm not blowing smoke up my ass about "the good old days." The 80s sucked ass and anyone who thinks otherwise didn't live through them. Now I have the internet and a smart phone and I wouldn't trade that shit in for all the Aqua Net in the world, but DAMN... I really don't think my cohorts were this trashy and I ran with a less than reputable crowd. Nobody had any fucking money and if you needed some you asked your fucking parents. I've got enough kids to worry about and the rest of those 20-somethings can fuck right off. I absolutely hate anyone under 30 and over 55.

From Penny Sociologist

2012-01-24T20:44:00.000-06:00

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

8 Myths About "Welfare Queens", Debunked

We all know the stereotype:

America is full of budget-devastating welfare queens- Escalade-driving, PlayStation-buying, boozing, smoking, drug-taking women who drink too much soda, eat too much McDonald's, refuse to work, and spend their entire lives freeloading on welfare while pumping out a new kid every year to up their payments- in short, being lazy, no good spendthrifts, living a lifestyle of luxury while you, the taxpayer, suffer an austere, self-disciplined, and generally morally superior existence.

How did ideas about poor moms get so hysterical?

Welfare programs in the United States originated in the 1930s with President Franklin D. Roosevelt, and had two components: social insurance (Social Security and unemployment insurance) and public assistance (Aid to Dependent Children, Aid to the Blind, etc.). Distinction between different types of women was there from the start: needy widows, seen as deserving, were given payments through Social Security, while needy divorced and single moms, seen as immoral and irresponsible, were put on the quickly stigmatized ADC (which later became AFDC and today is TANF- the assistance program whose cash benefit component is “bankrupting our country” and generally making racist, sexist citizens positively apoplectic). Monitoring and control of poor mothers was there from the start, too: until the 1960s, several states dropped moms from ADC for having a relationship with a man (today, several states are seeking drug-testing of welfare recipients).

By the early 1960s, popular media such as Reader's Digest were printing sensationalized stories about welfare fraud, but the myth of millions of dirty rotten welfare cheats fleecing the public seems, like so many of our nation's ills, to have really become entrenched with the rise to prominence of Ronald Reagan. In 1976, Reagan made a speech in which he claimed a "welfare queen" from Chicago's South Side had been arrested for welfare fraud:

"She has eighty names, thirty addresses, twelve Social Security cards and is collecting Veteran's benefits on four non-existing deceased husbands. And she is collecting Social Security on her cards. She's got Medicaid, getting food stamps, and she is collecting welfare under each of her names. Her tax-free cash income is over $150,000."

This woman did not exist, but with Reagan, the stigmatized poor mother of yore became the greedy, lazy, criminally fraudulent black poor mother of today. With racist and sexist sentiments stirred, public hostility toward poor moms became ever more hysterical, eventually resulting in Bill Clinton’s 1996 welfare reform legislation- the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act, or, the War on Welfare. But the entire War on Welfare is built on a boogeyman- that of the resource-draining, undeserving poor mom.

The colorful stereotype of the lazy, fraudulent welfare mother relies on eight myths about welfare and poor moms:

1. Myth: “Welfare” is comprised solely of cash handouts to poor moms. In fact, welfare is provided to Americans of all income levels and especially to corporations. Welfare includes Social Security, tax breaks, corporate subsidies and incentives, Wall Street bailouts, Medicare and Medicaid, the Children’s Health Insurance Program, and the means-tested cash assistance or in-kind support (food stamps, housing, childcare vouchers) that we associate with welfare “queens.” Of the means-tested public assistance programs for the poor, food stamps have the broadest reach- some 46 million Americans (about 15% of the population, and an all-time high) were receiving food stamps in 2011. However, when most people talk about dodgy welfare moms, what they mean is the cash assistance and other meager benefits supplied (sometimes) under TANF. TANF support sometimes includes vouchers for childcare, clothing, and other needs along with cash assistance, but this varies wildly from state to state (Southern states tend to be meanest when it comes to assistance for the poor). For the purposes of this discussion, I will pretend that the only type of welfare is indeed the cash and in-kind support given (mostly) to poor moms through TANF.

2. Myth: Most poor moms are on welfare. It is true that the majority of TANF’s clients are women and children, but most poor families never receive any assistance at all. In 2010, there were about 78 million families in the United States. Just over 9 million families (about 12%) were officially in poverty, but about 28% of families qualified as in poverty or near-poor. While some 20-odd million families were poor or near-poor and thus arguably in need of some kind of assistance, very few were poor enough to be eligible for TANF, and of those families eligible for TANF, only 1.9 million were actually receiving TANF in 2011. Since the welfare reform of 1996, participation by eligible families has plummeted: 84% of those families in need received ADC in 1995, dropping to 52% receiving TANF in 2000, and only 40% in 2005. Most poor moms, whether single or married, are not on welfare.

3. Myth: Moms on welfare take up a huge amount of the national budget. Actually, each year,about 20% of the national budget goes to defense, and another 20% to Social Security. Less than 1/3 of the $3.7 trillion dollar 2012 federal budget went to the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS), which administers TANF and other programs. Of the HHS’s 2012 budget, 54% went to Medicare, 30% to Medicaid, 14% to other programs, and 2%, or about $17 billion, to TANF. Meanwhile, $13 billion was budgeted in 2012 for TARP- yet another welfare handout to bankers that nearly matches that of TANF recipients. Speaking of welfare handouts for bankers, it’s worth noting that it would take about 42 years for our nation’s 1.9 million TANF recipients to equal the $700 billion dollar handout given to Wall Street in 2008.

4. Myth: Poor moms spend decades, or even lifetimes, on welfare. Since 1996, there has been a five-year lifetime cap on TANF assistance for adults. In 2006, the average length of time families received TANF assistance was 35.4 months, and case closure data from 35 states indicated that less than one-half of one percent of cases were closed because families had hit the 5-year ceiling.

5. Myth: Welfare moms refuse to work. In fact, in 2006, 33% of TANF families were engaged in qualified work activities for at least 30 hours per week, and another 14% had some work hours (though not enough to qualify toward the work rate). Looking at poor families more generally, in 2010, about 32% of single moms in poverty were working at least part time (compared to 17% of single dads in poverty), rising to 59% and 40%, respectively, for near-poor single moms and dads. Poor and welfare moms rarely refuse to work, but are more likely to be laid off, to spend more time looking for work, and to be stuck in low-income, no-benefit junk jobs that make survival, perversely, more difficult.

6. Myth: Welfare moms have more kids to get bigger benefit payments. Contrary to popular belief, TANF families in 2006 had an average of 2.3 children, and approximately 1 in 2 TANF recipients had only 1 child. Only 10% of TANF recipients had more than 3 children. The average TANF cash assistance grant is $372 per month (so much for the Escalades and Playstations), and while some states do give larger grants to families with more children, the average payment increases only $80 per child. Most TANF families (about 80%) do also qualify for SNAP, the food stamp program, and receive an average monthly food stamp allowance of $275.

7. Myth: Loads of poor moms are committing welfare “fraud.” There is no statistical evidence to support the notion of an epidemic of women marauding as welfare frauds. In fact, vendors commit a great deal of welfare fraud (and the real fraud game is in the military- perhaps poor moms should get into the defense contracting business if they want to get rich fraudulently on the taxpayer’s dime).

8. Myth: Most mothers on welfare are black. In 2006, 36% of TANF families were black, 33% were white, and 26% were Hispanic.

When we break down the myth of the lazy, freeloading welfare mom, we find that the real myth is that poor moms are getting help at all. While longstanding sexist attitudes underpinned the stigmatization of poor mothers on welfare from it’s inception, today’s intense demonization of poor mothers- actually on welfare or no- probably has much to do with our society’s changing economic fortunes. Over the last 30-odd years, we have seen our standard of living decline, our wages stagnate, our dependence on credit to survive intensify, and our jobs disappear, while the costs of education, healthcare, food, and housing have gone through the roof. Many of us are only a tenuous thread above the very poor whom we demonize, and may all too soon find ourselves in need of a welfare "handout." When the fear, stress, and insecurity of declining economic fortunes combine with powerful sexist and racist attitudes, people’s anger can end up misdirected toward a boogeyman of cheating, lazy, drug-addled poor minority moms. This not only allows the real “welfare queens” (corporations and the rich) to continue truly wasting our money while ransacking our economy, our society, and our lives, but leads to a hysterical “off with their heads” sort of environment that has real and devastating consequences for poor moms and their children.

Dump that Zero and Get You a Hero

2012-01-24T19:32:00.000-06:00

Courtney Stodden's making another song and now Vanilla Ice is back, no longer a rapper and no longer a rocker but singing Ice Ice Baby with an acoustic guitar in coffee shops. And the MPAA and the record companies are pissed people are pirating their music? As long as losers like these 2 keep having microphones handed to them we fucking DESERVE it. After listening to Ice sing in a plaid shirt I could download a fucking bus and feel justified in doing so.

Ranch Monsters

2012-01-24T18:35:00.001-06:00

It appears there's nothing in me lately than this Dear Diary shit. I want to finish Frimmy's story but I forgot how it ended. I want to write a post on Alberta but I can't get with it. All I have in me is musings and boring old-lady thoughts and complaints about how rude kids are nowadays.

Rudeness. Yes, I feel like a rant this evening and that's a great topic. I've been going over my own rudeness in my mind lately and have become ashamed of my behavior. I have tried myself and found me guilty of rudeness as well. I have discussed this earlier so I won't go into any great detail except to say that I think I've finally unraveled the great question of what the fuck is wrong with me, and it's a lack of boundaries that leads to feeling angry. I'm changing it.

But let's not talk about me for a change. Let's talk about the younger generation. Yes, I'm actually going to talk about how kids nowadays have no respect. Wheel me into the old folk's home already.

This is a steak salad. I am on a diet and I eat quite a few of them. This particular salad was made by my loving husband the other day and it was delicious. I couldn't resist putting a picture of it up on my Facebook wall because... well because I was bragging a tiny bit. It looks good, no? My salad wasn't up for a full minute before my daughter's babysitter came along and commented "WTF is that?" I was immediately annoyed because what the hell does it look like, you fucking retard? Of course I hid my annoyance behind sarcasm and asked her, "You don't recognize a salad?" She replied, "It looks funny. lol." So now I'm annoyed because she's commenting on the appearance of my salad AND she's doing it with an LOL. I'm so fucking tired of LOLs. They should only be used if something is funny. Is my salad so humorous that you burst out into spontaneous laughter upon seeing it? Idiot. She then went on to say, "I figured it was some sort of salad but some of the toppings just looks funny." I replied that those things were called vegetables and she called me a smart ass.

This bitch is half my age and I don't know her from Adam. I didn't add her to my friend's list and don't want her there because all she talks about is her health. She's boring but this is the 3rd time she's added me. I keep deleting her and a couple of months later she just sends me a new friend request. See? This is a perfect example of how I do something I don't want to do to be polite and then end up resenting someone for it. Had I never accepted the friend request to begin with this never would have happened. Anyway, it's a small thing but I don't like being called a smart ass by people young enough to be my daughter. Yes, my son calls me that but I LIKE him. I don't know or like this girl.

They're all like that. Bianca told me last night that I didn't have her high cheek bones or her full lips. This came out of nowhere. First of all, I have both of those things. Second of all, why would you say something like that? These kids say anything that pops into their heads because they've never been taught how to shut the fuck up. Levi doesn't do it but he doesn't really notice it like I do either. They just talk and talk and if you tell them they're being rude they say some shit like, "What? I was just saying what I felt." How can you have any friends when you say everything that comes to mind? Also, is it just me or does it seem a little trashy to not be able to recognize vegetables? These are the kind of people who dine out at Taco Bell on a date. The kind of people you take to a nice restaurant and they order the chicken strips and ask the server if they have Mountain Dew. They are the Ranch Monsters.

What is a Ranch Monster? It's a name I came up with in honor of a particularly fat and mean woman I waited on once. Quite simply, a Ranch Monster is a MEAN, fat, white bitch who tells you as she orders "And I'm going to need a lot of Ranch with that." Of course you are. I've known servers who bring out bowls of the shit without being asked for it. If your waiter brings you a bowl of Ranch dressing, you're being insulted. Very insulted. Ranch Monsters eat their steak well done and have only complaints about the meal, the service, the weather, and ESPECIALLY the price. They are found with either their parents or a young man. If it's their parents the father will usually be very thin and the mother will be quite large. The father hasn't spoken since 1977. Not because he's cowed but because he has the good sense to be embarrassed of his family. The mother has a hatchet mark between her eyebrows from years of frowning. She runs the show and she will tip you 8%. If the Ranch Monster isn't with her parents she's with either other Ranch Monsters (the worst!) or with a thin young man who spends the entire meal texting. Ranch Monster is paying, the thin man NEVER pays. He is texting other women during dinner and Ranchy knows it. This makes her angry and the only person she can take it out on is her server. The Ranch Monster is entitled, bloated, and above all else... mean. She swills Mountain Dew or sweet tea but will accept Dr. Pepper if there's nothing else. She is tasteless and tacky and is the sort of person who would ask you WTF that shit is on your salad. Ranch Monsters don't eat salad and if they do it's iceberg lettuce under a mound of cheese and ham. Bet you can guess what kind of salad dressing she slathers on it.

So when someone sees a piece of fish in my FB pictures and announces, "GROSS!" or comments on the appearance of a salad made with my husband's loving hands I am annoyed at the rudeness but I also curl my lip a little at the same time because I know I'm in the presence of someone who orders a well done steak and then slathers it with ketchup (if her parents are buying) or someone who orders the fried food special (if she is buying). I'm dealing with someone who owns 5 Tweety Bird Tshirts and she wears them when she's in Walmart screaming at her children. Trash, in other words.

My salad was delicious. Thank you for asking.

LEVI

2012-01-23T22:43:00.001-06:00

LEVI'S IN SHITVILLE!!!!!!!!! HE'S THERE AND HE'S SAFE AND HE'S HAPPY!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dear Diary

2012-01-23T15:30:00.000-06:00

Time to get the sled out kids.

Hopefully EmoBoy is on his way to Shitville. I don't know and won't know until he decides to call me. As soon as I know something I'll let everyone know. His phone is still turned off but I'm sure he'll either call me tonight or be on Facebook. He's a good egg.

I've had some sort of bug that kind of laid me up yesterday and I'm not at 100% today so I don't know if I'll be doing any writing today. Maybe. We'll see how the rest of the day shakes out.

Dino and I have been getting along well and I'm still working on becoming a better person. I'm more self-reliant and handling annoyance better. I've come to the conclusion that most of my snappishness comes from not having good boundaries. Instead of saying that I'm not feeling well or I'm busy or whatever I try to fake being super interested but eventually my boredom and desire to be alone comes out and I think that makes people think I went from loving them to hating them, when I really never felt either way. I'm not a bartender anymore and I don't have to fake being interested-ohmahgod-so interested in people. A polite interest is all that's necessary; I don't need to be on stage anymore. I've been practicing this and it's working better. The extremes are what caused the meanness, and I think it's what causes people to get angry with me. They think I'm this happy, chipper bitch and then when I get tired of wearing that mask and become irritable they think I no longer like them. This seems very likely to me now. Doesn't that seem plausible? The highs and lows of my personality are exhausting for me so why wouldn't they be exhausting for those around me? Especially the relationships I had pre-Dino when he wasn't around to be my liaison.

The picture I took a couple of weeks ago. This is all the snow we've had so far this year and the only snow scheduled in the next 10 days are flurries due on Jan. 31st along with rain. I like some snow. I like one or two good snows a year and I'm a little crabby that it hasn't come yet.

Anyway, that's my update. Everything is boring but I always prefer dull to drama. I'm still working on making myself a better person after the drama of last weekend and long-term change is fucking boring. It involves stopping and thinking before losing your temper or whining like a child. I have more self-respect but I still wish I could snap my fingers and have everything OK again. In the end, it's a worthwhile journey but a tedious one.

EmoUpdate

2012-01-21T15:24:00.000-06:00

EmoBoy, dressed as his cousin. Yes, I know why. No, it's not a good enough reason.

I posted an update in comments but nobody ever reads the fucking comments around here. I'm going to have to pull an Oprah to get anyone to read those things. "And you get a car. And you get a car. EVERYONE gets a car!" It could happen.

Anyway, the plan is this so far: Emo is scheduled to be released on Monday and his grandmother has sent me a short message letting me know she and Terry are planning to meet midway to exchange him on that day. Not one more night will EmoBoy spend under their roof. Hooray!

Hooray for him leaving and hooray for the fact that he will have spent 9 days or so in juvie before going. Yes, I think the kid needs to be there. There should be a punishment for coming home drunk at 16 and being violent. I don't care if it was justified violence, it still wasn't justified drinking and the kid got what he deserved. Of course, this may mean I have to pay for the week he spent there.... which, by the way, when did that become appropriate? Anyway, that's a whole other rant I don't want to get into. In 48 hours EmoBoy will be on his way to my stepdad's house and while that will cause a whole other ration of problems for ME it should be much better for Levi and that's the important thing. My step-stepmother loves him AND is a firm believer in consistency, discipline, and accountability. Or at least she was the last time I talked to her. She also has a job waiting for him when he gets there.

His birthday is in 5 days and unless something horrible happens between then and now he will be turning 17 in Shitville. Yes, I loathe Shitville with every fiber of my being but it's still better than living with his father.

Coming Soon: Alberta!

2012-01-21T09:16:00.001-06:00

This is the image you get when you google "Alberta slum." This is what Canadians call slums. I call this my next door neighbor. Seriously, I pass 5 houses that look like this on my way to work every day. *

At long last, I'm writing another post on Canada. I've been doing this for more than 6 months now and haven't written one in almost 3 of those, so when it comes just sit your ass down and breathe through it. We're covering Canada and we're covering Alberta because Frimmy lives there. So smile and look at the pretty pictures and nod politely when she talks. Got it?

Alberta is the 8th in our series of "Canada for Dummies." In the series I routinely mock Canada for being so goddamn pristine and beautiful and then I copy some shit from Wikipedia, steal an image of a license plate, and wrap it all up with more stolen pictures and snide comments. So far we've covered:

Poor, sad Nunavut,
Nova Scotia
British Columbia
Quebec. And we hated every minute of it.
Ontario
Prince Edward Island
Yukon

You should totally go read all of these posts so you can be a learned bitch about Canada. However, I know you and I know you're lazy as fuck so if you want to skip my Pulitzer-worthy blog posts, you can use my patented High School Lunch Table Theory of Canada. Basically, picture Canada as a giant cafeteria. Ontario is sitting at the jocks and cheerleader table and only notice the rest of the country to mock them; Quebec is full of edgy theater kids who are insufferable and hated by everyone, but they tell themselves they're just misunderstood; Nova Scotia is attending private school with fucking waiters; British Columbia skipped lunch and is getting high behind the gymnasium; Prince Edward Island is eating lunch prepared by their loving mothers and have had the crust cut off their sandwiches for so long they don't even realize bread has that shit on it; Yukon slept through the alarm clock and missed school because they were too busy fucking a moose; and poor sad Nunavut is eating a double ration of free lunch because there'll be nothing for dinner again tonight but ice cubes.

What is in store for us with Alberta? Where will they eat? What will I say? Will Frimmy be pissed if I put up a Google street map of her house on my blog? And above all: What do their license plates look like? Stay tuned to find out.

The Atheist Granny is cliff hanger-y.

* OK, everything I wrote there is a lie. The house, the job, the whole thing. Yeah, that's a pretty shitty house and there aren't a lot of them like that around here although there ARE some. Still though, I stand by my comment because THIS is what you get when you google "New York slum":

But hey! There's a satellite dish on top so there's a Republican somewhere saying that shit looks pretty good to them!

Zsa Zsa Motherfucking Gabor

2012-01-21T02:57:00.003-06:00

Wow, whoever would have thought we'd still be talking about this bitch? She sure doesn't know when to leave a party, does she? Nevertheless, as you know she is my cross to bear and I've got to trot something out about her every couple of weeks or the blog weasels come and eat my toes in my sleep. What? You've never heard of blog weasels? Nasty little fuckers.

She may look harmless but 5 minutes after that photo was taken she forced everyone in it to walk the plank.

In the early 50s, Zsa Zsa started an unlikely fashion trend: the eye patch. No, she wasn't marrying a pirate; she was covering a black eye (allegedly) and it became de rigueur for fancy bitches to start sporting them for a short while. See? The public have always been sheep. This is nothing new.

Basically, the story is that Gabor was married to her 3rd husband George Sanders when she began an affair with a Dominican chap named Porfirio Rubirosa in 1952.

Hot sex, FIFTIES STYLE!

So anyway, Gabor and Rubirosa were slutting it up all over the place through 1952. She comes up with a knot on her forehead but says she fell. Old housewives everywhere clucked their tongues and nodded knowingly. Gabor went on to divorce Sanders and Rubirosa divorced his wife, Barbara Hutton, the Woolworth heiress. They both got lonely and booty calls were made (allegedly) through 1953-54 until she started sporting an eye patch, which she claimed hid the black eye her Dominican Dom laid on her. She explained the affair away by saying, "Rubi loves me. Rubirosa in Spanish means red rose, for me it means black eye. A man only hits a woman if he loves her deeply." Bitches everywhere ate this up and started donning patches of their own. This right here just proves my theory that all old people are stupid and should be ground into dog food.

There you have it, kids. Zsa Zsa Gabor was once so powerful that she started a fashion trend based on domestic abuse and it was all good. The next time Hollywood tries to sell you on the idea that the 1950s were some idyllic, magical time you just remember that people not only excused domestic violence, they glorified it. Imagine if Zsa's niece Paris were in the same predicament. At least she'd have the decency to have some diamonds sewn on hers.

Frimmy's Funhouse of Horrors Part 2

2012-01-20T23:37:00.000-06:00

Frimmy leaned back in her chair and lit up another cigar. She normally tried to limit herself but today was shaping up to be a head-splitter. Her ex-wife's lawyer had called earlier in the day about upping the alimony payments, the accountant had come by to repeat his case for liquidating while there was still time, and now this. She breathed in deeply and slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke into a pile of papers stacked on the desk. A pile of papers that would likely sit there for weeks before being dumped into the trash.

All she'd ever wanted for as long as she could remember was to kill hobos. As a child she would dismember her dolls and hide the little arms and legs around her bedroom. As a teenager she killed her first hobo. A sour little man she found sleeping in the bushes of an abandoned house by her school. He'd fought, sure. He'd cursed and breathed his foul hobo-breath in her face as he struggled but he was no match for the sharpened Hello Kitty letter opener Frimmy always carried in her book bag. She was strong and he was weak and who would ever miss a filthy bum like that?

"Nobody, that's who." laughed Frimmy to herself. "Absolutely no one."

After that she sought them out. She learned the way of the hobo and hunted her prey at every opportunity. It was easy in the 70s and 80s. All you had to do was hang around the train station and wait. Someone always came and they were always hungry and willing to trust a young, blond girl with big blue eyes. It was almost too easy. She asked for some tracts from a local church under the pretense of passing them out to her fellow students and that's all it took. All she had to do was put on her school uniform and and show up with a couple of sandwiches and ask them if they'd heard the good word and they always came with her. By the time her Hello Kitty letter opener was puncturing their throats they were too shocked to fight back for the most part. Chumps and losers. The lot of them.

As she grew older she realized that she would need a way to make money for herself and when her parents conveniently died and left her a modest life insurance windfall she decided to go into the transient killing business. And what better business than the carnival?

Frimmy's Funhouse of Horrors

2012-01-20T20:48:00.000-06:00

Frimmy pulled the cigar slowly out from between her teeth and looked around the room. The place smelled like what it was: a dumping ground for diseased circus animals and freaks. She stubbed her stogie and looked across the desk at the clown with disgust. Fucking clowns made her hangover throb. God, she hated them all.

"So basically what you're telling me is that some fucking loser who's only been working the midway for 2 weeks didn't show up to work today and I should drop everything I'm fucking doing to go track his ass down. Is that what I am to understand? I want to be crystal fucking clear on this." she spat over the taste of bile rising in her throat.

The clown wilted under her gaze, his red lips drooping as far as the paint rimming his face allowed. "I know, I know... but I'm tellin' ya Bob was different, he was. He didn't even drink. He went to work, did his job, and went back to the hotel to watch TV. It's not like him."

"And so after 2 weeks you know him better than his own, sainted mother I assume?" Frimmy snarled. "Get the fuck out of here."

As she watched the clown's retreating figure she had two thoughts. One, that she had been in this line of work way too long and two, that she was going to have to be a lot more careful.

From my inbox

2012-01-20T16:14:00.001-06:00

Hi everyone!

A big hurrah to you!!!!! We’ve won for now -- SOPA and PIPA were dropped by Congress today -- the votes we’ve been scrambling to mobilize against have been cancelled.

The largest online protest in history has fundamentally changed the game. You were heard.

On January 18th, 13 million of us took the time to tell Congress to protect free speech rights on the internet. Hundreds of millions, maybe a billion, people all around the world saw what we did on Wednesday. See the amazing numbers here and tell everyone what you did.

This was unprecedented. Your activism may have changed the way people fight for the public interest and basic rights forever.

The MPAA (the lobby for big movie studios which created these terrible bills) was shocked and seemingly humbled. “‘This was a whole new different game all of a sudden,’ MPAA Chairman and former Senator Chris Dodd told the New York Times. ‘[PIPA and SOPA were] considered by many to be a slam dunk.’”

“'This is altogether a new effect,' Mr. Dodd said, comparing the online movement to the Arab Spring. He could not remember seeing 'an effort that was moving with this degree of support change this dramatically' in the last four decades, he added."

Tweet with us, shout on the internet with us, let's celebrate: Round of applause to the 13 million people who stood up - #PIPA and #SOPA are tabled 4 now. #13millionapplause

We're indebted to everyone who helped in the beginning of this movement -- you, and all the sites that went out on a limb to protest in November -- Boing Boing and Mozilla Foundation (and thank you Tumblr, 4chan)! And the grassroots groups -- Public Knowledge, Electronic Frontier Foundation, Demand Progress, CDT, and many more.
#SOPA and #PIPA will likely return in some form. But when they do, we'll be ready. Can you make a donation to Fight for the Future, to help us keep this fire going?

We changed the game this fall, and we're not gonna stop. $8, $20, every little bit helps.
13 million strong,
Tiffiniy, Holmes, Joshua, Phil, CJ, Donny, Douglas, Nicholas, Dean, David S. and Moore... Fight for the Future!

P.S. China's internet censorship system reminds us why the fight for democratic principles is so important:

In the New Yorker: "Fittingly, perhaps, the discussion has unfolded on Weibo, the Twitter-like micro-blogging site that has a team of censors on staff to trim posts with sensitive political content. That is the arrangement that opponents of the bill have suggested would be required of American sites if they are compelled to police their users’ content for copyright violations. On Weibo, joking about SOPA’s similarities to Chinese censorship was sensitive enough that some posts on the subject were almost certainly deleted (though it can be hard to know).
...
After Chinese Web users got over the strangeness of hearing Americans debate the merits of screening the Web for objectionable content, they marvelled at the American response. Commentator Liu Qingyan wrote:

‘We should learn something from the way these American Internet companies protested against SOPA and PIPA. A free and democratic society depends on every one of us caring about politics and fighting for our rights. We will not achieve it by avoiding talk about politics.’"

#######
(press release is here: https://fightfortheftr.wordpress.com/press-releases/)

Let this be a lesson to all who say that they can't do anything to change the way politicians behave. Politicians are all bought and sold with your votes and when enough people state they want something done then their elected officials will have the same "change of heart."

This will be back. They'll repackage it and try to ram it through when our attention is distracted with other matters, the same way the Patriot Act was. It's a victory but the war isn't over yet. Big business will try again and as long as we keep telling them "no" then they have to hear us.

Thank you to all the sites that shut down to call attention to this bill. A huge thank you to 4chan. Love them or hate them, they take internet censorship seriously.

I can't write

2012-01-20T15:35:00.000-06:00

All I've been doing lately is writing "Dear Diary" entries and I'm tired of it. I started to write a short story but it fizzled. I can't even think of another way to creatively announce that Zsa Zsa Gabor is still alive. I want to write. I want desperately to write something. Last summer I could have written anything but I just don't have any creativity and haven't for months now. All I've got is the advice my creative writing coach gave me as a young granny. "Just write." That's what they tell all aspiring bad writers and that's what I keep on doing. Gawd, I wish I could write.

*record scratch*

I wandered away from this and got distracted for awhile. During that time, I decided I'd better check up on Levi, as I hadn't heard from him in a week. For the first few days, it was cool because I had my own dramas to deal with and I was frankly happy for the break from EmoBoy drama for a few days. After 2 or 3 I decided he'd probably fucked up and got grounded again. I usually hear from him in 5 or 6 days even if he's been grounded b/c his grandparents ground him for months and then forget all about it within a week and he's back to normal. Today I decided to call and his phone was disconnected. I sighed and told Dino it was time to go to the Family Facebook that I've been avoiding since having the talk with my mother. It was loading slowly so I had plenty of time for my stomach to fall as I saw the private message notification was on. And sure enough, it was from Levi's grandmother.

"nHere is whats up -- last night levi was at a friends house. He came home drunk. Pappy confronted him and he came at him. Pappy had to hit him calledcops. His blood alcohal was 1.59w
Waswas 1.59. He was so hostile to both of us. He is in bkb johnsons. Gonna try to get judge to let him be releazed tues to uou or terry. We arent gonna get him out."

Honestly, I don't know who to believe anymore. They tell me Levi's hitting them. Levi told me in confidence a couple of weeks ago that his grandfather had been hitting him and was detailed enough in his story for me to beg him to come back home. You may recall the "Come home, EmoBoy" post. That was after he told me in confidence that he'd been being hit. His story sounded plausible and he admitted that he'd swung at his grandfather a few times, but only after being pushed. At any rate, if there's violence going on then both parties need to be separated. That is why I've been nagging him to leave for weeks and he waffles between wanting to leave and wanting to stay because of his friends but he always maintains that he hates his grandparents. That never changes.

So, I replied to the private message and asked if Levi was still in juvie and told her they were doing the right thing by not getting him out I decided to suck it up and check the home page to see what other shenanigans the Moral Majority (my family) were up to. For the most part, they were all praising Gawd and handling snakes and then I saw Levi's grandmother's status message:

"Nursing a broken beart today. My grandson finally found a way to make iti impossible for us to keep him. When he getsout ofbob johnsons we are sending him to St Joe with. His other grandparents. Praying they will be able to reach him. I loveyou Levi - always will. And to the jerk who supplied the alcohal.....i am tracking you down!"

Look, I'm as guilty as anyone of putting shit up on my FB status that's not appropriate but this is a FAMILY matter. Why would you put this out there for the world to see? The whole thing reminds me of when Levi and I left Kansas and moved back to Shitville. I begged his Dad to return the $2500 he still owed me that I loaned him to make his house payments a year earlier because I was now broke and we couldn't pay the rent or buy food. His father refused to repay the loan so we had to move in with my friend Lisa and a couple of weeks later Adrienne told me she ran in to Levi's dad in a bar wearing one of Levi's tiny little hats and telling everyone that I took him away. Everyone was comforting him over losing his son and repeating "Poor Jack" while he got drunk wearing a toddler's baseball cap that didn't even fit Levi anymore. In other words, the only reason you say some shit like this is to get some pity and she got it in spades. I read through the promises of prayer and the comforts of her friends with my stomach clenching into a knot. And then, of course my mother had to pipe up:

"---thank you for all that you were able to accomplish. I am certainly aware of the price you pay in parenting a grandchild. My experience is similar, but not as heart-breaking just now. I wish peace for you. Once he is on this end of the life string...I hope to hook up with him and see if he wants to be a part of our lives again. He has not been receptive to that either for a very, very long time. I believe Terry can and will help him....at least I pray that is the case. Be blessed...your work is not over...you still have praying to do! As do we all. Love ya....and am holding you up in prayer."

What exactly is it that Kathy accomplished? Raising a child with mixed messages? One day you're grounded and the next you're allowed to go to a party? Telling him over and over that he's still a child and refusing to teach him anything about becoming a man? Hitting? Ignoring? Telling him you're done with him and don't want him anymore (her words) and then telling him he's not allowed to go anywhere, including his own mother's house even though she has custody?

And how exactly is my mother aware of the pitfalls of parenting a grandchild? She adopted Bianca at 6 months and raised her as her child. Who is it that Bianca called "Mama"? It wasn't me. Who is it that's dealing with the guilt of handing her child over to her mother instead of strangers? That would be me. Again, why would you put this shit out there for hundreds of people to read? People who KNOW who you're talking about? My mother hopes Levi wants to be a part of his life again because he has not been receptive to that for a very, very long time. Well bitch, do you think there might be a REASON FOR THAT??? Levi was never close to her because she didn't like him and kids know that shit. When she and I didn't talk for 3 years I told Bianca on several occasions to let Mom know that she was welcome to see Levi and she never came around. She never spent any time with him until the summer of 2010 when Levi went to spend a couple of weeks with Bianca after they were here. According to Levi, all she did was scream at Bianca and then order him to do shit for her. As he said: "I would have done anything if she'd asked me but it pissed me off that she would tell me to take her trash out or to do something every time I went over there like I owed it to her. So I stopped going. You were right, your mother IS crazy."

Both of you bitches need to shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down. You're parading my son around for sympathy and I'm fucking pissed. As for how *I* am feeling about all this... I'm glad. If it takes an ugly, drunken scene to get him out of that funhouse of dysfunction then I'm all for it. I wish he hadn't tried to swing on his grandfather but how am I to know he's not being hit anyway? The story I'm getting sounds pretty fucking reliable. Yes, Levi's a liar but everyone involved is a fucking liar so I'm not going to get all worked up about it. Levi was raised to never hit anyone in anger unless they hit first and then all bets are off. Maybe he's following that advice and maybe he's not. What I DO know is that when he was 13 years old I was told that my home wasn't good enough for him. It didn't matter that they all went months without speaking to him and never sent a birthday card or a Christmas present while he was in Shitville. It didn't matter that I was always there. Nope. They meant to have him and they meant to be bastards about it. Then they raised him with wishy-washy bullshit ranging from permissiveness to screaming and now they're surprised they have a delinquent on their hands. Maybe I'm talking like a mother, but I don't think this is 100% the kid's fault and no matter what, I'm fucking glad he's getting out and going to my stepmother's house. No, she doesn't speak to me either and no I have no idea why but I still love her and that's where he wants to go. Plus, she's lived with him before and at least she's not fucking insane.

I may be a lot of fucked up things, especially lately but even I know you don't just write a kid off. And you take some motherfucking responsibility when the teenager in your home is acting this way. Raising a kid involves a lot of things, but it especially involves consistency and even as flaky as I am I was still better than this. I fucking hate these people.

2012-01-19T01:01:00.002-06:00

PIPA co-sponsor Florida Sen. Marco Rubio pulled his name from the bill Wednesday, and SOPA co-sponsor Arizona Rep. Ben Quayle pulled his name Tuesday.

Rubio communicated his withdrawal via a Facebook post, titled “A Better Way to Fight the Online Theft of American Ideas and Jobs,” in which he argues Congress should avoid rushing to pass the bill that could have unintended consequences.

“As a senator from Florida, a state with a large presence of artists, creators and businesses connected to the creation of intellectual property, I have a strong interest in stopping online piracy that costs Florida jobs.
“However, we must do this while simultaneously promoting an open, dynamic Internet environment that is ripe for innovation and promotes new technologies.”

The Florida Senator encouraged his co-sponsor Nevada Sen. Harry Reid to follow his lead and abandon the bill in order to “take more time to address the concerns raised by all sides, and come up with new legislation that addresses Internet piracy while protecting free and open access to the Internet.”

SEE ALSO: Why SOPA Is Dangerous

Following the PIPA co-sponsor’s withdrawal, Texas Sen. John Cornyn followed suit, posting a statement of abandonment on Facebook Wednesday morning. Similarly, a spokesperson for Nebraska Rep. Lee Terry said the Congressman is unable to support SOPA as it’s written and plans to withdraw his support as well, theOmaha World-Herald reports.

Update 2:45 p.m.: Lead SOPA sponsor, Texas Rep. Lamar Smith, said Wednesday that he was not discouraged by the criticisms SOPA has received and that he continues to stand behind the bill, The Wall Street Journal reports.

Update 3:25 p.m.: Missouri Sen. Roy Blunt, a PIPA co-sponsor, and Arkansas Sen. John Boozman withdrew their support for the bill.

Update 4:05 p.m.: Utah Sen. Orrin Hatch announced he would no longer co-sponsor the bill on Twitter.

Source

This is brilliant.

2012-01-19T00:54:00.001-06:00

You don't need to know anything about WoW to watch this.