Of Birthdays & Gratitude

I know I’ve ranted about this before. I’m 100% certain that I have, but I’m gonna do it again so feel free to skip right on over this entry.

It royally pisses me off when people (women in particular) whine about reaching a particular milestone birthday (usually 30+). Nine times out of 10 they’re complaining about how they’re old or some other nonsense. Listen up, bitches. Be fucking grateful that you got to see 30 or 35 or 40. Some people, for one reason or another, never will. Little Emily was 24 when she died. She never got to see her 30th birthday. My dad was 62. He wasn’t even (technically) eligible for Social Security. Yet here you are whining that you’re old when you’re 35 & life hasn’t come up roses for you. SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP. I’m 34. Am I where I thought I’d be when I was 24? No. I didn’t think I’d be back in school for the second time for a career path that I was 150% sure I wasn’t cut out for. Is my life perfect? Hell no. Did I think my dad would be dead? Absolutely not.

I blame our culture. We put too much emphasis on being young & linear life paths. You’re sexually desirable if you’re 25. You’re successful if you’ve graduated college at 22 & have a career by 23 unless said career requires higher education. I was raised Catholic & spent 13 years in Catholic school. It was drilled into us that you better get married & start popping out babies before you turned 30. I didn’t get married until I was 30. We aren’t planning on having kids anytime soon (though people are starting to get all up our business about that, but that’s another rant for another time). Life is messy. Life is far from perfect. Life isn’t a straight line. If you’re upset that you haven’t reached some arbitrary benchmark by the time you’re 30, then maybe it’s time to reassess your priorities. Think about what YOU want not what a skincare ad or even your religion tells you. Maybe I’m just a rebel, but I’m not going to let someone or something dictate my life when I’m a grownass woman.

TL;DR – Be grateful you made it this far & don’t let society’s arbitrary benchmarks get in your way.


Current Jam: “Danger” BTS

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Of Friends & Don’t Make Me Cut You

I know I’ve probably touched on this before, but I feel like I need to reiterate it.

If you talk shit about the people I love, I will gleefully cut you in the face.

I’m fine with people talking shit about me. Go ahead. Do it to my face. I’m happy to indulge you. The second you cross the line from me to the ones I love is when you’re asking for trouble. I believe I mentioned this in my update post, but the head of the  Medical Imaging insulted the school I went to for my pre-reqs that he knows my husband works at to my face. We were originally discussing another issue & he said something along the lines of “I’d like to think we’re a more rigorous school than GPC”. I played it off, but I was ready to tear his head off. He didn’t just insult me. He insulted my husband & my friends. Don’t. You. Dare.

One of the many things Daddums taught me was loyalty. I’m probably loyal to a fault. Once I care about someone, I’ll do everything in my power to protect them. Sometimes it’s even protecting them from themselves. God help the first person who tries to bully our kids. Both the kid & their parents will be dead before they hit the ground. Love is a powerful thing. Sometimes, in my case, it can bring out the darkness. Things I’m willing to do or say in the name of shielding others. Does that make me a bad person? I dunno. It does make me someone you want on your side in a fight, though.

The moral of my story, dear readers? Hold close the ones you love. Defend them. Support them. Beware of people like me who might be waiting in the wings to defend & support the ones she loves.


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Of Game of Thrones and trying not to throw up

Warnings before you enter this entry:



I’m not a rabid Game of Thrones watcher largely because I don’t have HBO. After an unfortunate incident in one of the early episodes that gave me nightmares for a week, I read the synopses before deciding whether or not to watch an episode. I hadn’t yet read the synopsis for this week’s episode when I saw that Twitter had exploded with references to a rape scene. If you haven’t seen the show – quick & dirty character summaries.

Ramsey is the sociopathic sadist who gets off on chopping off people’s junk & “hunting” women by literally letting them loose in the woods and killing them with a crossbow. Sansa is the oldest daughter of Sean Bean’s characters family. She’s still technically married to someone else, but since she’s the (assumed) only living heir of this particular tract of land, she’s forced to marry Ramsey because he & his dad want the land. Theon, the third member of our party, was the one who had his junk cut off by Ramsey. He also grew up with Sansa.

In one sentence, after they’re married, Ramsey rapes Sansa while Theon watches. I literally got nauseous when I read the summary. When I was raped, Will let someone watch. He actually invited him to watch. That’s the sticking point for me. Not that rape scenes don’t phase me, but this one hit a little too close to home. I refuse to actually watch the episode because I know I’ll be in tears & have nightmares for days. What made it worse was seeing comments starting to pop up about “Well, she never actually said no” or “She knew what she was getting into when she married him!”. I have never, so badly, wanted to scratch out the eyeballs of a total stranger on the other side of a computer screen. Never. They justify it by saying that it’s a fictional character, so it’s not as bad.

Newsflash: Yes it is.

I dare someone to look me in the face and say “Well, I don’t see why you’re upset. It’s not *real*. It’s not like what happened to you really happened to her”. Go ahead, I’ll wait. No takers? I thought not.

It’s bad enough to endure something like that. It’s bad enough when it’s just you and him (or her) in the room. Add in another person and it’s something I would never, ever wish on anyone, real or fictional. There was someone who witnessed it, knew I said no, & didn’t do anything about it. It’s no small wonder that I tried to tear myself apart over it. It’s not just that feeling of helplessness that comes with the act itself. It’s not just one person who doesn’t give a shit about you, it’s two. They could do something to help you and they don’t. For the rest of the day, the thought of anyone even touching me made my stomach turn. I went to dance, I shook it off, and I should actually be able to sleep tonight.

I’m not sure how that will alter her story arc, but I really hope she’ll pull a Lucrecia Borgia and poison his sorry ass. Team Sansa.

In summary – I don’t care if it’s reality or fantasy. Victim blaming is never okay. Ever.


Of “reality” TV and why I hate it

Now that I can actually watch TV again, I’ve developed some fairly strong opinions on ratings and how one show is renewed over another that falls into a completely different category.

I hate most reality shows. It’s obvious that most are scripted (Real Housewives of [insert city here], anyone?) and the production companies make a fortune off them because they don’t have to pay the participants anything unless they win. Even then, the winner will see little to none of the money depending on what the terms of the contract are. Kudos to the producers for minting money based on someone’s pathological desire to be famous just for being famous. I thought Survivor was stupid when it first came out in 10th grade. I still think it’s stupid. I lump American Idol and all the knockoffs of it, Dancing with the Stars, and pretty much every other show on a major network in there as well. I watched Top Chef through it’s 6th season and Project Runway through the 5th season. These shows require a base level of talent to even make it on the show. Every other show? If you’re willing to sign this waiver, c’mon in! Shows like these (and football, much as I love you, boys) shouldn’t be lumped in with what most people think of as “scripted” shows a la Law & Order for rating or renewal purposes. Apples and oranges, kiddies.

Scripted shows deserve their own category. Then based on those ratings and how they perform, determine who makes the cut and who doesn’t. Reality shows clog up those rankings. It’s a foregone conclusion that American Idol and Survivor will be the only survivors of the apocalypse along with cockroaches. Even the cockroaches won’t be amused. Let’s give the shows which require actual actors with something vaguely resembling talent a fair shake. It’s the same conundrum that started with TiVo and has since trickled to Amazon and Hulu. If you’re not watching live, how do they know how many people are watching? If you can’t track a show’s popularity accurately and cancel it, that’s a great way to piss off a lot of viewers. I rarely watch shows live. Most of my generation relies on some form of internet or recorded version of the show. Boy doesn’t have cable and never intends to get it. Any show we’re interested in watching can be accessed in several ways. There’s no need for it. Networks need to seriously reconsider how they track viewership, determine ratings, and who is measured against who for the purposes of renewal.

I also think scripted shows should have a 100 episode (about 5 season) maximum. After 100 episodes, the writers tend to go off the rails. I challenge you, faithful reader, to name a show that has survived more than 5 seasons with out a significant drop in quality. And go!