Day 19-30 Day Challenge-'Disrespecting Parents'

Disrespecting Parents

Well, this one is a doozy.....

I am not even sure what it means.....

Disrespecting other parents?

Being disrespected as a parent?

Parents who are disrespecting??

Disrespecting one's own parents?

Let's tackle them one at a time, shall we?

Disrespecting Other Parents:

Don't do this.  Ever.  You are not the be-all-end-all of good parenting, no matter who you are, or how you are raising your child.  Unless you see a parent physically or emotionally harming a child, keep your mouth shut about how other people raise their kids.....Seriously.  No matter how well you know someone, their story, and their family, you just don't know how these people are with their kids when you are not there.  Last time I checked, the Universe did not elect you OR me Grand Poo-Baa of Parenting....if the kids are being loved, and taught to love....shut up.  A*hole.

Being Disrespected As A Parent: 

This is a hard one...I have what I call "my" 4 girls.  There's Little Miss (my first child), CC (my little sister, who came to me as a teenager and turned my world upside down--still does), Kwo (my niece who ALSO came to me as a teen and taught me way more than I ever taught her), and Roo (my second--and FINAL-- child).  All 4 have been 'disrespectful' to me at one time or another, but I deserved it at the time....Being a parent or parental figure does not automatically mean you deserve respect---especially if you suck at it.  The truth is, that I have sucked at being a mom/big-sister-mom/aunt-mom...I own that. 

Frankly, I didn't even always shower.....

So, even though being 'disrespected' by them at various times hurt...I learned something from it.  And any life experience that teaches you something that you carry forward can never be fully bad.



Effin 2Pac...always right...



Parents Who Are Disrespecting:  Yeah...I could write a book about this shit...and probably will.  As Stephen King -- my friggin hero--- says, "Write what you know."  More on this below.

Disrespecting One's Own Parents:

Slippery slope here, ya'll...and something I deal with all the time.  You see, some parents feel that they are due respect merely for BEING a parent...And I don't agree with that.  I love my mother and father very much, but I don't always respect them.  My mother and I have never really gotten along---and just writing that hurts me.  Even when I was little, I used to get told I was a 'smart-ass' (much better than being a dumb-ass!!), 'disrespectful', 'know-it-all', etc....the truth is, I was all of those things.  But I felt justified then, and still do.

 

Sadly, my mother was the victim of some very horrific abuse as a child.  To this day, we can be outside drinking coffee, breathing in the velvety pine-scented air, basking in the California sun, and she will be laughing and relaxed and suddenly start talking about the horror visited upon her by her stepfather....The scope of the day will change, and suddenly she is miserable, angry, and 7 years old; being starved, beaten, and told she is nothing. 

That kills me. 

I have tried over and over to get her to embrace the positive side of life, to explain that her thoughts are her own to control....nothing.  At that point, all I can do is bear silent witness to her pain, and wait for the storm to pass.

As you all know, this kind of thing is generational....so I got hit for a lot of things when I was little.  For asking questions, for raising my eyebrows, for laughing at the wrong time.  I knew it was wrong and unfair, so I did what I will always do in the face of what I perceive as injustice---I questioned it, I pointed it out, and I used my sarcasm to fight it...probably not the best survival tactic, but I am who I am.

I arrived in California on September 29, 1979; so I can say, in all confidence, that I was only 3 years old when I realized that something was very wrong in my life.  That no one was in control of the runaway train that was my life (and my brother and sister's life as well).  I knew that the person I loved the most in the world, the person that rocked me to sleep sometimes, was not someone I could count on to keep me safe.  I don't blame my mother for that....her stepfather makes Joan Crawford look like June Cleaver, and even though I don't believe in Hell, I know that--wherever he is---karma is taking a huge chunk out of his ass for what he did to my mother. 

I am sharing this only to furnish a background....I got over my childhood bit by bit---mainly by being as different as I could from the rest of my family.  I have had the term 'selfish' flung at me more times than I can count--and that's the nice one!  I did what I had to do to keep myself sane, to keep my girls safe, fed, stable, and loved---and I failed sometimes.  But I never said or did anything to deliberately hurt them. 

 (CC may have a different take on that, but that is a blog for another day!)

Yup....If by 'older sister' you mean 'Mary'...

My relationship with my mother is extremely complicated.  I love her, and I will listen to her tell her story over and over.  I never hold my childhood over her head, I have never confronted her about the things that happened when I was little, and I don't condemn her for the way she has lived her life.  But, I REFUSE to let her turn her anger at me unchallenged.  I refuse to let her malign me for taking my sister and niece away from their mothers, and I refuse to let her slag off on the people I love for no reason except that she is angry. 

She calls that 'disrespect'. 

I call that living my truth. 

So we disagree, she refuses to talk to me for a while, and then we make up.



I have an email from her that says this....and also that I am a C U Next Thursday.....*sigh*



Why do I make up with her?  Because I want to.  Because my mother was broken at a very young age, and she still is.  Because I look at Roo, and I see my mother as a child; before some twisted shit got ahold of her and ruined her heart. 

So, yeah, I will continue to love my mother.  And I will continue to put her wild, purple-haired ass in check when I think she needs it. 

If that makes me 'disrespetful', so be it.

I've been called worse.

Is That a Gun in Your Pocket,

 *****"Guest Blog"*****

Thanks to my sister's boyfriend, I have been too busy writing a scary story to blog.....I am treating you by sharing the Awesomeness That Is Veronica Whitmore!!!!

In honor of Flashback Friday, and of that crazy lady in Bend:

Ladies and Gentleman, I give you..........

Grown up Tantrums

Rants and Raves (but mostly rants) about all that's going on in the world.

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Is That a Gun in Your Pocket,

 or 

Are You Just Happy to See Me?? 

 

It's been a little while since I have posted a legit, over the top rant about something that seriously pisses me off.

Well, put on your seat belts, cause I am on one tonight!

Today I saw on the news that some local public schools are banning leggings from their dress codes for female students because "they are distracting to our male students." Aca scuse me?!? What?? Since when is it MY fucking responsibility to dress in a way that keeps a boy's tongue in his mouth instead of hanging out of his head like a drooling, horny dog?!?

Oh. Since fucking ALWAYS!

I forgot for a moment that as a woman, I am solely responsible for any penis in a 5 mile radius. They cannot be trusted with the boy they are attached to, of course. How fucking insulting!! Insulting to women that we are expected to monitor our looks or our actions, and insulting to men to imply that they cannot be trusted to keep their own dick in their pants at the sight of a lady in *gasp* leggings!

When a woman is assaulted, someone always asks what she was wearing. Or what she was drinking. Or what she was doing out at night by herself. When a woman is attacked, someone always asks what she could have done to protect herself - what mace she should have been toting in her bag, or what self defense tool it was too bad she didn't know.

No one ever stands up and says, guess what, world, it is NOT my responsibility to carry a gun to ward off horny douchebags who think they have some animalistic right to my vagina! It doesn't matter what I am wearing or if I had 5 drinks instead of 3, or if I think I should be able to walk back to my own dorm room after a party. Why the FUCK are we not focused on raising MEN who don't think they have a right to attack some innocent woman because she was "distracting" in a pair of tight pants.

Fuck that.

The most appalling part of the whole new story was, as always, the comments under the article talking about how it's unfair for girls to wear tight pants and expect to not receive that kind of attention, that these girls need to pay attention to what they are offering to these poor boys by dressing like that...and these comments were from women!! MOMS! Umm...someone immediately remove the daughters (and sons, for that matter) from these ignorant, archaic ass holes. You have got to be kidding me, lady - I can't wear leggings to school (or work, in my case) because some idiot can't control his hard on? Give me a break.

Perhaps we could address the sexism that exists in dress codes as a whole. Did you know that I work for a company that requires at least a 2 inch heel on all women's shoes but does not require that men wear a tie? Sexist as fuck. If I have to wear uncomfortable shoes because they look professional (and by professional, I do of course mean that they make my legs look sexier), then the least you could do is throw us a bone and make these boys put something awkward around their neck. But no. Can't do that.

Male dress code: Pants. Shirt. Shoes. And deodorant.
Female dress code: See pages 2-17.

The same goes for schools, because we have to get on the sexism train as early as possible. When I was in high school, we weren't allowed to wear tank tops. Because, you know, a 16 year old boy simply cannot keep his penis to himself with my shoulders hanging out all over the place like that. The poor boys are just simply so distracted.

Never mind the sagging thing, though, where the boys get to drop their jeans to their knees. Because that doesn't turn us ladies on (I mean, really it doesn't, because face it guys, you look stupid as fuck like that). Point being, I wasn't allowed to have my shoulders exposed on a hot day, but my male counterpart was allowed to let his balls hang out of the belt loops of his jeans should he so choose.

I went to a Catholic school though, so they probably just assumed that us ladies didn't get horny. Ever. Until we were married. And then only when we wanted to lay in missionary position to create life.

Barf.

But I digress.

If I want to wear leggings, I am going to wear leggings. You morons and your leggings aren't pants campaign need to shut up and buy a bigger size. Leggings are pants. They have a waistband and 2 leg holes and a crotch and room for your ass. That is literally the definition of pants. If you can see through the fabric in the ass, it is not because they are not pants; it's because they're too small. Kinda like when your side boob is popping out of your bikini top? That doesn't mean it's not a swim suit - it means your tits need a bigger size. Same shit, different body part.

For the record, the more shit I read on the news about schools and dress code and bull shit about how girls are ruining the lives of boys everywhere by dressing like whores and then not welcoming a physical or sexual assault, the happier I am to not have to raise a child. I mean, how could I put this blog into a G-rated version suitable for my own son or daughter? Dear son, please don't ever attack a woman at a party and then blame it on her yoga pants or the tequila shot you saw her take at the beer pong table. And darling daughter, please feel free to wear whatever the fuck you want whenever the fuck you want, and take a guy's dick off with your stiletto if he comes at you.

Parent of the year award goes to *drum roll* ME!

In all reality, we live in a sexist world where women are held responsible for anything that happens to us. If I get raped outside a bar, someone on the news report will inevitably question why I was wearing something so low cut? To that I say, listen bitch, I wore that because it's what I like. It's what looks good on me. It's what I choose to wear. I did not at any point approach some horn dog and request to be fondled against my will. If one of my friends is assaulted by someone, some news report will question how drunk she was and what she was doing out so late. Guess what, my friends can stay out as late as they damn well please. I'm not a victim, and I'm not friends with victims.

The reality is, until enough women stand up and refuse to take on the responsibility for the disgusting slime balls out there, and refuse to let other ignorant women blame our yoga pants and bikinis for the shit that happens to us, nothing will change. Where are we at on that, ladies? Are you really gonna let some uptight, horny high school principal who can't get laid on his own tell you that your daughter can't come to school in leggings and "distract" the boys? Are you prepared for that same principal to tell you that your daughter shouldn't have been out by herself after that movie if she didn't want a guy to approach her in the dark? I wouldn't be. Bitches please, that administrator is lucky I'm not the parent walking into his office to talk about this new dress code. I'd be the mom staging the yoga pant sit-in with every girl in school. Bare those beautiful butt cheeks, ladies!!

And just think, my life goal for 2014 is to own a gun before Christmas! Yea I'm wearing yoga pants...and yes sir that sure is a pistol...you can see it because my pants are too tight, just how I like them. Back the fuck off...I said no.

Posted by Veronica Whitmore at 11:43 PM

30 Day Chellenge - Day 17 - Be VERY Afraid.

Things That Make You Scared

So, yeah, I am gonna leave off the things that any parent/humanitarian/tree-hugger worries about...clearly, some things are just scary to humans.

This post isn't about humans, tho, it's about me (wait, what?) and the few things that make me want to run away and hide in the closet with a loaded Sig Sauer P320 and a machete.

The list of stuff that scares the pants right offa me is getting shorter as I get older, but there are 3 things that freak me out SO BAD, that sharting myself is always a real possibility....


Scary-Ass Thing #1:



THIS MOTHERFUCKER RIGHT HERE!!!!!

One of my "friends" who is a furry a*hole sent me this picture.  It's a miracle he is still alive.  (for now---talking to YOU, DB!!--ps, just noticed your initials are 'DB"...coincidence?  I think not!!!)

I HATE CLOWNS....THEY SCARE THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF ME WORSE THAN A CONTAMINATED ECSTASY TABLET!!!
  
For real---who in the hell would ever think anyone that looks like the mofo up there  should come to your house and make balloon animals for your kids on their birthday?



Listen up, fools; Clowns are scary. Scary. As. Fuck.  AND, they are all crazy!!  If you think clowns are funny or cool or interesting, you are crazy!!  

It's bad enough that their makeup and hair is all crazy, but the white, white, white-ness of their makeup makes their teeth and eyeballs look a dingy yellow, which is creepy as fuck too!

I have never seen a remotely friendly-looking clown.....
Even Ronald McDonald is one creepy-ass dude, and I am surprised he has lasted this long as a mascot for food...food THAT KILLS PEOPLE, by the way!!!


This is the first Ronald McDonald----does this look like someone you want around your kids?????

What's the forecast, Willard??  Raining buckets of blood?  No shit....

He has evolved over the years to THIS mofo!!!  

You know why the baby is crying??  Because clowns are FUCKING SCARY!!!

I don't know why any parent would let their kid hang out with Ronald McDonald....I don't know why any parent would bring a clown to their child's birthday party....Clowns are scary enough all by themselves, but when you add this POS to the mix....well, clowns are wrong....Just. Wrong.

I am not going to go into anything about JWG or the psycho bullshit he pulled, but if a dude like this showed up in my neighborhood, I would threaten him with a ventilated abdomen if he set one shiny red shoe anywhere near my road.

Come on, now, do ANY of you like clowns or think they are amusing or child-friendly entertainers?????  If so, I would love to hear your (psychotic) answer....you can comment below.


Scary Ass Thing #2:

  Dwarves.  Yes, yes, I know, I am a fucking asshole for being afraid of dwarves.....I don't care.  And, NO, I am not driving out to the Roloff farm to see that 'little people are people too'.  Seriously, some of you mofos are afraid of pit-bulls, black people, and other not-so-PC things, so you leave me and my Achondroplasiaphobia alone, thank you!!!!



Pretty sure it was these fools that got this shit started.....

If I was Dorothy, I would have stolen that lollipop, jumped over these weirdos, and headed for the hills

As you all know from our court system and Hollywood, childhood trauma excuses all kinds of shitty behavior as an adult, so I can be as afraid as I want since I had to watch this crap every year.  On a black-and-white TV.  With foil on the rabbit ears.  AND it didn't have a remote, I had to get up and turn the knobs to change the channel!!  (sob, sob!)

Anyway, enough about my traumatic childhood, let's talk about little people.  SHORT people are okay, but if your shit is under 4 feet, you don't have any elbows, and you have abnormally small/large body parts that are visible when you are dressed---I'm skerred.  For reals.  

Also, these mini sons-a-bitches.  I woulda drop-kicked these creeps into the Wonkavision TV!

When I was a bartender, I had a customer that was a dwarf and she always wanted to hug me.  Which made me sweat and cry.  But I did it!!  Because tips, yo.  But it was very scary, and I didn't like it.   

I used to run away from them in public.  And not in an a*hole, obvious way....just a very calm, cool, change of direction, followed by ducking into an alley, diving into a dumpster, and sucking my thumb for about 20 minutes---sounds gross, but you can meet lots of guys that way---seriously.

However, my irrational and somewhat inappropriate fear is gradually being assuaged by this bad-ass mofo:

I LOVE this guy!!  I even named my cat after him!!  

Seriously.  If you like to read, and you haven't read George R R Martin's 'Song of Ice and Fire' series, GO DO IT NOW.  Hands down, some of the best books I ever read...and I have probably read more books than any of you guys!!  Anyway, one of the main characters is a badass dwarf named Tyrion Lannister.  And he runs around out-scheming the schemers, out-wenching the wenchers, out-drinking everyone, and generally being one bad-ass motherfucker--he makes Samuel L. Jasckons look like Bill Cosby.  Wait, what??  I mean Jello-eating Dr. Huxtable Bill Cosby, and not roofie-dropping, date-raping Bill Cosby, obvi!!

So, yeah, now when I see dwarves, I still get sweaty palms and increased-blood-pressure-with-the-possibility-of-imminent-urination, but I am also a bit more calm and secretly wondering if they are plotting to overthrow their overbearing family or looking for hookers or people to imprison, and I kinda want to follow them around to see what shenanigans they might be getting up to....you could say I am getting over this phobia, one Sunday at a time. (that reference is to the series Game of Thrones, which airs on Sunday nights).

(PS - Don't even think about correcting me and saying I should have said 'dwarfs' and not 'dwarves'...if it's good enough for Tolkien, it's good enough for me!)

Scary Ass Thing #3

Dolls.  Dolls, Dolls, DOLLS!! 

I don't mean Barbie or Strawberry Shortcake, or even the female GI Joe characters...which my brother insisted were dolls, not action figures! I am talking about these bitches:

Awww...how cute.......NOT!

So, THAT ^^^^^^^ is what dolls look like during the day.....

But, in my head, THIS is what they turn into at night....

Mother. Of. God!!!!!!

Seriously.  My daughter does not own one friggin' doll.  Not. A. One.  My mother buys all of those freaky-ass Franklin Mint dolls, and she keeps them in her house and is constantly trying to offload some onto me.  I have told her a million times that I can't handle these damn things, and that having one in my home would give me a nervous breakdown.  She has even gone so far as to come visit me with one of her devil-dolls in her bags, and then 'accidentally' left it out my house.....Guess what?  A bitch ended up at Goodwill before the sun went down---straight up!!!

I don't see how any parent could look at these creepy-ass things and decide, "Wow, I need to torture my kids by leaving this thing in her room to freak her out so she can't sleep!"  Seriously, don't you know what shenanigans these bitches get up to in your kids' rooms when they are sleeping????  

Dolls are so creepy, that an evil doll got her own movie spin-off, which grossed almost 100K at the box office last year....
Did I watch "Annabelle"? 

HELL NO!!!  

And I never will.  Because I don't want to accidentally piss that crazy bitch off and wake up with her peeking in my window...seriously.  

Would YOU want to wake up and see this scratching at the thin pane of glass separating you from her wrath????

Seriously, Annabelle, I like you a lot and think you are very pretty....now please don't kill me!!

That's it, guys!!  Things That Make Me Scared!!!!  

I am sooooooo scared right now, just from putting all of these damn pictures in this blog, that I need to go to my room and look at this for the rest of the night.....

There....all better!!!

Cheers, ya'll!!!