I'm So High (Parody)

To the tune of the Beatles "I'm So Tired"

I'm so high, I can't even blink
I'm so oh oh high, into the couch I sink
I wonder, should I get up and get something to drink?
No no no
I'm so high, I think I'd like a snack
Running to the store -- I'll be right back
With yummy things to eat, and something to drink
Yeah yeah yeah

Sharing Needles, Sharing Blood?

The subject of IV drug use came up today in the context of sharing dirty equipment.

We know that there's enough blood left in the syringe from the previous user to potentially pass diseases, right?

Now, people have different blood types, and it's really not a good idea to give, say, B- to someone with A+ blood. In fact, it can be fatal to mix different blood types.

Which got me wondering -- do IV drug users ever have bad reactions to other users' blood types?

The Cheese Incident

I don't much care for cheese.

The Jackass loved cheese. Like, forget the knife, just hand him the whole block, right?

He had to have complete control over the food. What we bought. How much. And it was always stuff he liked. And a lot of the foods he liked are things that I just... can't eat, for various reasons. He was on a steady diet of high-fat, high-cholesterol, salt-laden, heavily-processed crap. And cheese. (But I repeat myself!)

So, grocery shopping, we'd buy a block of cheese, right?

Within two days, 80% of that block of cheese would be half-melted to the top of the microwave, with a weird oily slick around it.

Why?

Because somebody "forgot" to put it away.

And just happened to leave it on a surface not only made of metal, but painted black, and in perpetual, direct sunlight.

A spot I wouldn't find it until it began to smell.

If this had been a one-time or once-in-a-great-while thing, and he'd been conscientious about putting things away in the past, and continued to do so in the future, I'd have been fine. Everybody occasionally forgets to put something away now and then, it's not a huge deal.

But not him.

No.

It was every. Block. Of cheese.

With gentle reminders and requests to please put that back in the fridge so it doesn't rot.

Nope.

Every time.

And then he'd get angry at me for throwing out the nasty-ass mess HE made.

The Jackass

We openly refer to my ex -- the abuser discussed in my last post -- as "The Jackass".

I can't remember precisely how it came about, but I'm probably not far off in saying that The Jackass had done something jerk-tastic in front of my parents. Because, yes, he really was that big of a douchebag.

Dad referred to him as a "jackass", and it stuck. (And let me tell you, he lived up to -- or perhaps down to -- the name!)

I Survived

NOTE: I initially wrote this as an answer on Quora, to the question "What incident has traumatized you for good?" I'm reposting it here because I don't feel like re-typing all this.

=====

The six or seven years I spent with my abuser. Yeah, I’m including some snark in parenthetical comments, some of which is stuff I always wanted to say to him.

When I met him, he was charming, intelligent, polite.

That… that all changed after he moved in with me. I suspect it was changing before— no. I know it was changing before. Couldn’t see it at the time, but it’s all very clear now.

It started small. Pushing tiny boundaries, asking me to do things I was slightly uncomfortable with, small transgressions that you’d typically just brush off because “relationships are about give and take,” and most relationships do require some compromise because even the best, most compatible couples aren’t going to agree on 100% everything. And, you know, most couples work these things out in a way that works for both parties. Right?

Those little things turned into bigger things.

Before I knew what had happened, I was doing all the giving, and he was doing all the taking, and I had zero boundaries left.

If he wanted sex, he’d just roll me over (or drag me out of my wheelchair) and take it. From whatever orifice he decided he wanted to violate. Whether or not I was in the mood. Regardless of whether or not we had guests. I’ve been raped vaginally, orally, and anally.

He’d stay up all night playing video games. In and of itself, not necessarily a problem, and I’ve been known to pull all-nighters while gaming, myself. The problem was, he’d crank the volume UP until there was no way I could sleep. His excuse? “I can’t hear it if you turn it down.” (But he could somehow hear me just fine muttering obscenities under my breath? Yeah…)

I offered him headphones to use. “But they hurt my ears!”

Padded headphones, designed for comfort. “But they’re uncomfortable!”

And gods help me if I just so happened to make more progress in a game than he did! (Like, I swear I’ve seen more reasonable toddlers.)

His diet was just atrocious — all carbs, fats, and meats. He had no respect for my dietary needs, and forget about the occasional treat. Then he’d blame me when the inevitable digestive disturbances happened. (Because I just loved having chronic diarrhea, and was totally doing it on purpose…)

And then there was the physical violence.

He didn’t hit me a lot, but he did use physical intimidation (twice my size, three times the weight, able-bodied) and the threat of violence quite a bit. When he did hit me, it was always my fault. I shouldn’t have told him to give me back my things. I should value him more than a seat cushion. I shouldn’t have contradicted — or worse — corrected him. I should have kept my mouth shut. And yeah, there’s a story behind the seat cushion thing, it’s really weird, man.

I’d gotten a new seat cushion for my wheelchair. Now, proper support and positioning is important, not only for my joints, but for my skin. He got it into his head that this somehow meant the seat cushion was “more important to me” than he was. Which is friggin’ stupid, yeah? Well, he then decided to take a knife to my brand new cushion in retaliation for this “insult”. Result: One permanently deflated seat cushion that would no longer offer the required support, and YEARS of skin issues.

Back to the physical violence — I’ve been bitten (skin broken), stomped in the ribs, slapped, punched, manhandled, choked out, forcibly restrained for no good reason, and held at knifepoint. All by the same person.

So, seven years of this. And over those seven years, there were multiple contacts with law enforcement.

Here comes the kicker. The cops always, without fail, took his lies as truth, and would only ever tell me to “stop provoking him.”

The pigs only took action after he assaulted two able-bodied men.

It’s traumatizing enough to spend seven years suffering domestic violence, and yeah, that did a lot of damage.

But the most traumatizing thing? The thing that scares the living shit out of me?

The police not giving a single, solitary fuck about victims of DV.

Anxiety

You know those dreams where there's something terrible chasing you?

The ones where you can't ever run fast enough, because no matter how hard you try, you can only move slowly? If you can move at all?

All the while, the monster -- you can't see it, but you know it's big and evil and indescribable -- the whole time it's gaining on you.

Almost close enough to grab you.

Always out of reach.

But close enough that you can feel it breathing down your neck.

You know that absolute terror?

Try living like that all the time -- except the monster is living in your head, and there's not even the hope of waking up from the nightmare.

It's the shadow that constantly hangs over you, even in the brightest light.

The unnameable thing in the darkness that drives you to insanity, not just with the fear, but with the constant doubt planted by people questioning what you could possibly have to be anxious about.

Which, of course, just feeds the beast, because if there's "nothing to be worried about", you must be losing your mind!

"Psychology of Victimhood"? More Like "Psychology of Bullshit"!

This paper -- Psychology of Victimhood -- is victim-blaming bullshit on mile-high stilts.

It claims to explore the "psychology of victimhood", and I suppose, on some level, it does that. However, despite saying several times that "the intent isn't to blame the victim", the author goes on to explain how victims are "really" responsible in some way for being victimised. Author assigns levels of "responsibility" to victims. The bolding amd other formatting (lists) in the following excerpts is mine, and intended for emphasis and/or clarity.

4a. Non guilty- innocent victim:

This category includes victims who do not share the responsibility of the offence with the perpetrators. These are innocent victims whom we cannot expect to be able to avert the offence by anticipating it or by preventing it.

Examples:

** Children who are sexually or physically abused, or neglected.
** Rape or murder victims when the crime is unforeseen, unprovoked, and perpetrated by complete strangers.
** Severely mentally ill or disabled adults who get hurt or exploited.
** Those who suffer a crime while unconscious.
** Victims of random or rampage shooting.
** Victims of unexpected natural disasters: victims of earthquake in a non-earthquake zone.
** Victims of corporate greed, such as those perpetuated by corporations who sell genetically modified foods which cause cancer, or corrupt banking practices, which scheme people of their savings or homes.

This first section seems reasonable on it's face. Just wait. It gets worse. Much worse.

4b. Victims With Minor Guilt:

This category includes victims who with some thought, planning, awareness, information, or consciousness could have expected danger and avoided or minimized the harm to themselves. They 'could or should have known better.'

Examples:

** Adult victims of repeated domestic violence where shelters are available (after patterns are established and it is no longer unpredictable).

** Marital rape victims after the first few episodes (when the pattern has been established and it is no longer a surprise)

These specific claims ignores the fact that abusers are often charming, can be very loving and sweet, and start the abuse in a very subtle manner, conditioning the victim to accept being treated like shit as "normal." It starts small. Little words of disapproval. Ignoring boundaries. Just little tiny things that you brush off as anomalies. Then they start getting more abusive, more controlling, and often, the abuse progresses to the point of violence. Some abusers also rape their victims, because they feel they are "entitled to" the use their partner's body. By the time things reach this point, where there's an established pattern of abuse and/or rape, it's damn near impossible to get out without serious intervention from outside sources -- outside sources that the abuser will say, do, or promise literally anything to keep his victim away from. On top of that, the riskiest time for a battered woman is when she's leaving or trying to leave.

It is never the fault of the battered spouse. EVER.

** Women who are raped after choosing to get drunk (the minor responsibility is for electing to be completely helpless and unconscious, at the full mercy of others, in a situation that has the potential to be dangerous).

Wait. What was that in the first bit about unconscious victims being guilt-free? Ah, yes: "Those who suffer a crime while unconscious."

<sarcasm>I guess rape isn't a crime if the victim was drinking... </sarcasm>

** Adults who were victimized due to being in the wrong place and the wrong time, where with some awareness, preparation, and caution they could have prevented the assault.

Really? REALLY?! So if the author of this "paper" were to get jumped and mugged, he'd just shrug it off and say, "Oh, well. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and should have been prepared"? Somehow, I doubt it.

** Jews who suffered during the Holocaust (are of course not responsible for the Nazi's evils, but they could have resisted more, been less co-operative, and not gone like lambs to the slaughter. They could have read the situation better and left in time, as many of them (40%) did).

Saying the victims could have resisted more, co-operated less, etc. is victim-blaming. The Nazis were entirely responsible for this ginormous cluster-fuck of a tragedy. Yes, I do see the parenthetical up there, but it does not, in any way, lessen or negate the inherent victim-blaming in saying that the Jews "should have" resisted more. (And really? Second-guessing victims? So not cool!)

4c. Victims who share equal responsibility with the perpetrators:

This category includes victims who share equal responsibility with the offender for the harm inflicted on them. These are people who are conscious and aware of the situation and chose to be part of it. They are not caught by surprise, and common sense could have anticipated the damage that occurred.

Uh-huh, because victims "choose" to be victims, riiiight.

Examples:
** A man who contracts a sexually transmitted disease from a prostitute.

Isn't a fucking "victim", and should have worn a condom in the first place. This is a bad choice, and one that he is entirely responsible for.

Victims who seek, challenge, tease, or entice the perpetrator.

This? This is just another way of saying, "What did she expect, wearing that dress?" "She shouldn't have led him on." "Why was she out at that time of night?"

Fuck. That. Noise.

Willing participants in a Chicken Game, gun dual, or double suicide.

Are not victims -- they made a bad choice, yes, but they are not victims.

Co-alcoholics, co-addicts after the initial phase of their relationship (after it has been clearly established that the partner is an addict).

What's this shit about "co-alcoholics", anyway? Is it her fault that he keeps drinking? NO! He chooses to keep drinking. The addict can always get clean, and having a supportive partner or supportive friends is a very important part of getting and staying clean.

4d. Victims who are slightly more guilty than the offender.

This category is comprised entirely of perpetrators, and not victims.

This category includes victims who are active participants in an interaction where they are likely to get hurt. While they seek the damaging contact, the offender can easily withdraw from the situation, unlike those in category #5, to follow. Unlike those in the previous category #3, the offender is less responsible for the damage than is the victim.

Yes, yes, let's paint the people making conscious bad choices as "victims". Please. These are just as much "victims" as my abuser was.

Examples:
** Drunk people who harass sober bystanders and get hurt.

Drinky McDrunkerson there has nobody but himself to blame. In fact, most alcohol-related injuries and fatalities are entirely self-inflicted because the drunk idiot decided to do something stupid and dangerous, and paid the price.

** Cult members who chose to enter the cult as adults and then were brainwashed and harmed. (i.e., Jonestown, Waco).

Cult members are victims, and are not to blame for getting suckered in. Cult leaders tend to be charismatic, convincing, and quite charming. Cults use manipulative techniques to recruit members, and downright abusive tactics to keep them in. Brainwashing and/or Stockholm Syndrome are nasty beasties, and hard to fight alone.

** An abusive husband who is killed by his battered wife (he is primarily responsible but, as this paper states, the abuse must be viewed also as an interaction, and some responsibility shared between the couple).

Once again, I need to point out that, while abuse is an "interaction", it is NEVER THE FAULT OF THE VICTIM. Not even a tiny bit. When the abusive husband is killed, it is nobody's fault but his for abusing a woman so badly that she felt her only recourse was to kill.

** Citizens who collude by passivity in their country's atrocious acts and get hurt by other countries armies (i.e. politically inactive German civilians who did not fight the Nazi regime and got killed by the allies army attacks)

This one -- surprisingly -- is somewhat accurate, though I'd argue that "collusion by passivity" is, yes, bullshit. Those politically inactive German citizens were not to blame for getting killed by the allied forces. That blame falls squarely on the leaders (and subordinates) who prompted the attacks in the first place -- you know, the Nazis.

4e. Victims who are exclusively responsible for their victimization:

This category includes victims who initiated the contact and committed an act that is likely to lead to injury. In these cases, the one who inflicts the damage is not guilty and acts in pure self-defense or as expected from his position. This category is reserved for legally and clinically sane adults.

These aren't victims.

Examples:
** Rapists who are killed by their complete stranger- victims in self-defense.

Because acquaintance/date/partner/marital rape isn't "really" rape, and those "victims" brought it on themselves... *gag* Rape is rape is rape is rape, it doesn't matter what kind of relationship existed (or didn't, or for however long) between rapist and victim.

** Mercenaries who are wounded or killed.

Pretty sure mercenaries aren't used much any more. In the case that they are, well... it's a known job hazard, and honestly, considering what mercenaries do, I'd say that their life of violence begot more violence.

** People who smoke and get lung cancer.

Are no less deserving of compassion and appropriate medical care. It's well-known that Big Tobacco has continuously lied to consumers. (Not to mention the fact that it's easier to quit using heroin than it is to quit smoking.)

Suicide by those who are not mentally ill. (Mentally healthy and competent individuals can choose to commit rationally planned suicide for which they bear the full responsibility)

Are victims only of the disease that left them in such a state that suicide was the better option.

Can we, as a society, please stop doing this? Stop trying to find ways to hold victims -- especially women/AFABs -- "responsible" for all the shit that happens to us? Can we stop with the "why didn't she just leave?" And the "what did she expects?" And the "Well, she was drunk..."?

It doesn't matter. None of that matters.

What matters is, someone chose to victimize another person.

Gallbladder Function, Location & Anatomy | Body Maps

So here's a throwback, and it's not even Thursday! Someone apparently stumbled on to an old (like, years old) blog post of mine concerning my (long-since removed) gallbladder, and sent me this link. It's pretty cool -- 3D models of human anatomy and decent explanations of what's what and what things do!

Gallbladder Function, Location & Anatomy | Body Maps:

'via Blog this'

A Response To Top Ten Momisms

This popped up in my feed today, and holy crap. So many of these pissed me off as a child, and still do as an adult.



01. Why? Because I said so, that's why!

Sure, if you're raising yourself a little unthinking Authoritarian automaton. But no. Unquestioning obedience to authority is a really, really bad thing to teach a child, because it puts the child in a position where they cannot refuse an authority figure. *cough*Catholic priests*cough* And, speaking for myself, I was (and am) more likely to listen, consider, and cooperate when given a good, solid, sensible reason for something. I think, with children, it's important to start early, teaching critical thinking, how to question, and how to find the answers.

02. I'm going to give you until the count of three!

No you're not. You're going to get to two, and start counting in ever-shrinking fractional increments towards three until you get fed up with it or just can't do the maths anymore. You know the routine: "One. Two. Two and a half. Two and three quarters. Two and seven eighths. Two and fifteen sixteenths."

03. It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

Yeah, then it's hilarious! (Aah, Schadenfreude...)

04. I don't know is NOT an answer.

Yes it is. It's an honest answer, too; damn sight better than "Goddidit". Seriously, parents, brush up on your fallacies and don't use bad arguments with your children. Teach them how to think.

05. I would never have talked to my mother like that.

This is straight up Tone Trolling, and while I'll agree that one should show at least a minimal level of respect for their family, I've heard too much from too many people about "tone" and "if you [feminists/atheists/PoC/LGBT/other oppressed minorities] weren't so angry, people would listen" to really be comfortable with this statement. Politeness, civility, "tone" in general has it's place, yes, but sometimes, dammit, you just gotta get pissed off. If women hadn't been angry enough to stand up and demand the vote, we wouldn't have it. We also wouldn't have had the Civil Rights Movement. Or Stonewall.

06. I'm not running a taxi service.

No, but you did choose to have kids, and you did sign them up for activities (or allowed them to sign up for activities), and -- particularly in regards to the younger set -- you are at least partially responsible for their transportation. This line just isn't clever at all.

07. If everyone jumped off a cliff, would you do it too?

We all get the intent of this one, you know, resisting peer pressure, not "going with the crowd". I just feel like it could be phrased a lot better. Individuality is, and should be, more important than being another identically-dressed teenage clone.

08. Someday your face will freeze like that.

I'm sorry (no I'm not) but no, no it won't.

09. It hurts me more than it hurts you.

Ha ha ha no. Nothing hurts more than someone who is supposed to love you does violence to you. I firmly believe that one can discipline a child without using fear or violence to gain compliance.

10. Bob. Sue. Joe. Fido. Whatever your name is...

No. Just no. Hell no. I can't even. I don't have the words to even describe how dehumanizing this one is.

They're Trying to Kill The Internet. Again.

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Please help keep the internet free.

Depression and Anger

Perhaps the hallmark of this sort of anger, like the intense forms of irritability, fear or despair, is that they perpetuate themselves. After a while, they simply take over. You’re raging, irritable, intensely anxious or despairing for no apparent reason. Or if there is a reason at the beginning, the distorted emotions keep going without letup. They have a life of their own.

--- From Depression and Anger: A Destructive Partnership

So... this struck a nerve.

How many times have I screamed "I'M NOT ANGRY", when, to all outward appearances, I've gone right off the fucking rails into Angryville?

How many times has my anxiety manifested as HULK SMASH?

I can't even count the number of times I've just straight up snapped at people for no reason beyond "you are existing in my space". (It's so, so very stupid of me, I know!)

All that, and it turns out to be my own fear, insecurity, and anxiety masquerading (quite effectively!) as anger.

I'm not angry.

I'm fucking scared and overwhelmed and (re)acting on pure instinct -- and I end up angry and frustrated at myself for not being able to just "snap out of it".

Which Animaniacs Character Am I?

Not that anyone needs to guess, really.

It's obvious.


Which Animaniacs Character are You?

You're cute! And, when you're not, it's not pretty. Sure, you like girly stuff, like pink frilly outfits, flowers, adorable baby animals, tiny boxes that you can't fit anything in, and tiny doll-sized clothing, but you're also quite the firebrand! People who scorn you, and just plain stupid people who get in your way, often pay dearly. You are nearly as likely to jump up and kiss someone as to drop an anvil on someone's head! You are not the sort to be trifled with. You are, after all, Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fana Bo Besca, the Third.

Click here to see rinnaldo's Livejournal.

I'm Dot. Minus the girly stuff. I'm like, the "Dark" version of Dot. Incredibly, disgustingly cute. And snarky. And not afraid to open my big mouth, even if it does get me in trouble sometimes. I'm not sure that last one is a good thing, though.

And, like Dot, I do appreciate my quiet time.

It's Been A While

It's been a while since I've posted anything here. Wow. Okay, so, life happened, and I've been so wrapped up in reading other blogs that I've neglected my own.

I'm never sure when I'm going to have something to say, so it's not like I can say this will be updated on x, y, and z days of the week, or what have you. I am, however, going to try to have something at least twice a week.

And I know -- I need to fix the links in the sidebar. I'm working on it! Please forgive the disorganization!

Ridiculous Retail Complaints

I came across this "review" of Wal-Mart via STFU Parents.

So this "very upset mother of two" has a "complaint" about Wal-Mart. A'ight, who doesn't have a complaint about corporate this or store policy that or OMFG the service at this place I went to SUCKED BALLS -- but this complaint? This complaint is a fine illustration of everything that is wrong about current parenting trends... and then some.

Cashier and shopping carts not child friendly.

Okay... what the fuck do you mean by "child friendly"? Are you really concerned that children -- well-behaved, socially-adjusted children -- might get hurt by these things? I doubt it. And her story bears that out. Witness:

My mother, daughter, and I stopped at a Walmart store on our way home from vacation. As we were shopping through the store, I let my three year old daughter push one of the carts around the store.

Oooh, okay, so you "let your [toddler] push a cart." In normal English, that translates to "I let my precious little snowflake ram a grocery cart into every set of legs she could find."

I got the feeling that we were given a lot of dirty looks as we went through the store,

Gee, maybe because your demon-spawn was terrorising every calf, shin, ankle, and knee she could get to with that cart?

...but I didn't care.

Obviously, or you'd have had enough sense to kerb your kid.

When we finally got two carts full, we decided to leave.

I'm betting this took at least twice as long as it should have, due to Cznofleykke "helping" with the cart. Really, shopping goes much faster when the grown-ups are in charge.

When I started to unload the carts at the checkout, my daughter started running around the aisles and bathrooms.

Fairly normal-ish kid behavior, yes. However, it's not so much the child that's the problem, here. Read on.

Everytime I brought her back to us, she would run off again.

Which is why you hold on to your kid's hand, or put your kid on a leash, or have Grandmama -- who you've already stated was along to help with the shop -- keep the kid under control for a bit.

I'm sure that we, growing up, pulled a few runners on our parents, both intentional and accidental, and did some annoying things in public, but, um... this kid's behavior, and the mother's complete lack of response, makes us look like we were little saints!

The cashier seemed to be annoyed at the situation.

Gee, I wonder why...

Some people just don't know what it is like to have a rambuntous three year old like my daughter.

On the contrary, some people expect you to take charge and parent your child -- that means you teach your child how to behave when out in public. And you start that teaching AT HOME. It just isn't kosher to hold off on discipline and behavioral lessons until you're, say, in that fancy restaurant and little Bhraeydeynnne starts screeching like a wounded tomcat during mating season because ZOMG, THIS PLACE IS BORING!

...oh. Right. I forgot. Actually disciplining and training your kid will just ZOMG, CRUSH HER SPIRITS! It'll KILL her CREATIVITY!

I ignored her.

That, right there, is the problem. Ignoring your misbehaving (and probably misbegotten) spawn while it runs roughshod over the store, the retail slaves, AND the other custies. This mother had the perfect teaching opportunity here, and wasted it.

Finally my daughter decided to stay near me.

See, now when I was a kid, we didn't get to "decide" to stay near mom or dad. It was ENFORCED.

Unfornately, my daughter decided to start climbing on the carasel.

I'm assuming this is the bagging CAROUSEL. (Please note the correct spelling!) The bagging carousel is not now, and has never been, a play area. It is clearly marked with signage saying (paraphrased), "DON'T CLIMB ON THIS!" Jesus haploid CHRIST, I know your kid can't read, but as the parent... yeah, you're responsible for keeping your little "angle" away from dangerous machinery.

After many other attepts to get her to stop,

Attempts. Right. How many of those went beyond, "Caydenne, please stop climbing on the carousel"? (None, I'm guessing.)

I gave her some chicken I was buying.

Packaged, frozen chicken? A pack of chicken nuggets? A couple of cornish hens?

And, uhm, "some" chicken? As in, you removed some from the package? Or you were buying multiple small units of chicken and gave her one of the small packages to play with? I'm really confused by this.

Third, and most importantly, giving your kid raw chicken to play with is a really awesome way to get Salmonella and other nasties -- especially when young kids are involved, because young kids don't know that raw chicken is a disease vector, they don't know to wash up after handling it, and chances are, your kid's hands are going from that raw (hopefully well-packaged) chicken, straight into her mouth.

As I continued putting things on the counter, my daughter was standing next to the carasel. Next thing I know, some of my daughter's chicken is on the floor.

Implying that you did, in fact, hand her a package of drums/thighs/breasts/chicken parts, and that package somehow "mysteriously" opened itself without aaaany assistance from the kid. Oi.

I demanded to know what had happened.

Well, if you'd been supervising and (gasp!) parenting your child, this wouldn't have happened! And, hey, you could have politely inquired, rather than DEMANDING the poor retail slave (who ain't making nearly enough to deal with your entitled ass) be accountable for your child.

The cashier told me she had accidently hit my daughter with the carasel.

And what did you think was going to happen if you let your girl-spawn climb all over the carousel?

Even though she said she was sorry, I didn't believe it.

Oh, ferfucksake. Ya really think the retail slave DELIBERATELY hit your kid? Seriously?! Oi...

I know she was getting annoyed at my daughter and hit her out of spite.

Of course she was annoyed -- I'm annoyed just reading about your miserable little crotch-goblin and the chaos and destruction she rained upon the poor Wally-World slaves! But to accuse her of deliberately hitting your kid? Methinks the mombie doth protest too much.

At that point I just wanted out of that store.

Funny, so did everyone who encountered you and your kid...

After all the groceries were scanned, I handed the cashier my coupons.

::headdesk:: FUCK ME IN THE NECK WITH A TWO-BY-FOUR! You're supposed to place the coupons on the product you're using it for -- BEFORE IT'S RUNG UP! Ask ANY retail slave!

All of my coupons scanned except two.

Expired, I bet.

Then she decides to be a miss coupon know it all, and goes through both of my carts looking for an item.

Because you DID IT WRONG in the first place! Had you handed over the coupons up front, before things were rung up and bagged, this would not have happened at all. Seriously, LRN 2 SHOP, lady!

That is when I got pissed. I got very loud and said boy it sure takes us a lot longer to check out than it does to shop.

Nobody's fault but your own, there -- if you had kept your daughter under control, and properly placed the coupons on the belt, you'd have been out of there in no time, flat! But, of course, it can't be YOUR fault, no, because you and your precious snowflake are PERFECT, so it must be the fault of the retail slaves. ::rolleyes::

Look in the mirror, lady, and you'll see the problem.

I also added in that the cashiers like to be busy bodies and abuse children.

Uhhh.... what? What the actual fuck? The cashier wasn't "being a busybody" by trying to give you the best service possible (rummaging through already bagged items just so YOU can use a coupon). And she certainly wasn't "abusing" your child when she ACCIDENTALLY hit her (while your child was playing on something she shouldn't have been playing on).

The cashier then gave up her fight.

What fight? The one you insist on trying to start?

She rushed the rest of order, which I thought was very rude and unprofessional.

Uhm... you just said you wanted to get the fuck outta there, and now you're bitching about the cashier rushing your order? Make up your gorram mind!

She looked like she was going to cry.

Thanks to you.

I did give her something to cry about.

Yeah, your attitude and behavior is fucking heinous. I'd be crying if I had to put up with a bitch of this magnitude.

I went to a manager and reported her.

For doing her job?

I hope they fired her.

For... doing her job.

There as no excuse for any of this at all.

For your rude, entitled ass? Nope, no excuse.

======

The entitlemoo didn't stop there, though. Oh, no. She keeps going, this time it's about her son. (This is an entirely separate incident from the one above.)

I went shopping at around 5pm with my two children. My nine year old son and three year old daughter. While I was in the clothing my son was pushing the cart.

I bet she was in the clothing, completely oblivious to her kids halfway across the store. But, eh, it's possible she was, like, right there.

He decided to get in the shopping cart. He stood at the edge to get out and the cart tipped over. He banged his head on the floor and had a bloody nose.

Yeaaaah... your kid did EXACTLY what the warnings on the cart say NOT to do! (Gee, kinda like your daughter with the bag carousel...) And worse yet, the nine year old has no fucking excuse for not being able to read (and heed!) the warning.

The team handled it pretty well. They gave us ice and helped stop the bleeding. This is not what this complaint is about.

Great, but...

However they told me that my son is not allowed to step in their shopping cart.

Yeah, that's for safety reasons, as your son so handily demonstrated.

None of this would have happened if they had more child friendly shopping carts.

No, none of this would have happened if you bothered to parent your gorram kids, and paid attention to warning labels!

::sigh::

Somehow, I get the feeling that this lady's version of "child friendly" means less "safe for kids to fool around with" and more "let my kids do whatever they want, regardless of the consequences -- I can't be arsed to watch after them while I shop."

Self-Analysis

This post came about kind of randomly. It started with a simple assignment. Assess and analyse the things I'm good at, the things I need to work on, and how I can work on those things that need work. Sounds pretty easy, most of you can probably come up with, like, five things you're good at in no time at all. Well, nothing is as easy as it looks (or sounds), and one of those "things I need to fix", the Big P, PROCRASTINATION, played its part here -- I put it off until the night before. As usual. Despite having every intention of doing the assignment the night it was assigned. And every intention of doing it "tonight" -- "tonight" being every damn night between the date this was assigned, and the date it's due. Nope. I got some stuff done on Skyrim (even though I mostly chased butterflies), read a bazillion blogs, dicked around on Facebook, played with the cat, napped, ate, took walks, played more Skyrim, and then finally, FINALLY, sat down and started on what should have been, like, five minutes of typing.

Five minutes of typing turned into an hour of typing, deep thinking, more typing, more thinking, self-editing, re-reading, more editing, and finally deciding it was "good enough". And produced the following:

I am good with written communication – some would say “excellent”, but I feel I could work to refine my skills. I have also elevated procrastination and avoidance to an art-form, and have a corresponding talent for pulling off works of genius at the last minute.

I need to work on my “people skills”, both in face-to-face and over-the-phone situations. Communicating face to face and over the phone is… extremely uncomfortable and awkward, at best, and at worst has very nearly triggered a panic attack. One solution, at least, is if (when) I have to do a cold-call, I will sit and script out what I want to say. I will still be extremely anxious, but I won’t be tongue-tied, twisted, and terrified, because I have the script in front of me and I can just read it. I really need to get a handle on the procrastination thing, because it causes more trouble than I have energy to deal with, and the extra stress just isn’t good for me. Yes, even though I come up with some brilliant last-minute work, I’d really be happier getting things done and then having time to relax without a deadline dangling precariously over my head. My organizational skills also need some major work.

Where I’m stuck is, well… how do I work on my social skills? I’m okay in extremely causal social situations, but anything more formal than “oh, hi, I’m greeting you as we pass” just… loses me. I feel like I literally need someone hanging over my shoulder and explaining, “Okay, [action xyz] is socially inappropriate, and this is why.” And the why is the important part – “because it is” just sounds like a cop-out – I need to understand the reasoning behind the taboo. I’m seriously feeling like I missed something in kindy or early grade school, here! For example, it… apparently it’s considered “bitchy” for a woman to be blunt and up-front with opinions and feelings. But at the same time, I’m constantly told that I need to talk more, or told that I should “open up and express myself”. And then when I do open up, I get yelled at, flamed, or otherwise torn down for having opinions and feelings and (gasp!) daring to express them in anything other than flowery feel-good euphemistic language. Am… am I missing something, here? Is there something wrong with what I say? Or is there something wrong with the way I’m saying it? These are, these are important questions, because I want to not “be a bitch”, as a few folks online have so eloquently put it.

And on the procrastination front? Sweet Ceiling Cat, there are just so many wonderful distractions, from the birds singing outside, to Gracie wanting attention (or a door opened), to “what’s going on in the world”, to “oh, dirty dishes – I have five minutes to kill”, to, well, just about any distraction you can think of! I think part of it is just that I’m so very easily distracted anyway, and part of it is, I don’t know, probably subconscious avoidance of work or subconscious self-sabotage, neither one of which I am equipped to tackle in any meaningful way. I suspect this particular issue may require professional help. I’m also beginning to think that perhaps my disorganization – in addition to being part of the whole ADD package – is another one of those subconscious self-sabotage things. After all, I can’t do the work if I can’t find the work in the first place, ergo, perfect avoidance strategy.

Yep. Five minute assignment turned into... that.

Holy Office: Jesus vs Dr Who

Holy Office: Jesus vs Dr Who

On "Uzumaki", or "Why Babies And Placentas are Creepy"

Junji Ito's "Uzumaki" is, in few words, creepy as fuck. No denying it, it starts out bug-fuck crazy, and just gets worse from there. If nothing else, because of the damn spirals. Everywhere. And the spirals are spreading, consuming, twisting -- Kurozu-cho is one of those places.

Anyway, click the images to embiggen... if you dare.

It starts with this.

And gets worse!

This still isn't the worst bit...

Or this, with the spiral-infected hair. Or even the blood-sucking pregnant women, which I neglected to grab a scan of.

No, you see, Chapter Eleven manages to make something that should be, you know, celebrated, into... well... something truly terrifying and downright scary. The real hard-core high-octane nightmare fuel comes when the pregnant women I just mentioned above give birth.

The babies seem normal... except for their bellies. The swelling seems to be uncomfortable, but so far appears to be... nothing. Just colicky babies, or something.

Meanwhile, the cafeteria has started serving a new variety of mushroom.

Well... they say it's a mushroom. And the other patients seem to love the new food. Yeah... more on the mushrooms later, we got creepy kids here!

The babies? Not so normal after all. Here, they're talking about wanting to go back into the womb, one even saying, "I want to go back to mother's womb." Immediately followed by gnarly reveal number one: the bulging belly:

The babies regrew their umbilical cords and placentae. Seriously. And that placenta-tree thing, in the lower-left panel, is really freaking me out. Yeah, looks like Kirie couldn't handle the revelation, either -- too bad for her it's only starting.

Kirie panics and just blindly enters a room. Bad Idea. That room...

holds a motherfucking forest of motherfucking placentae! Worse yet, the OBGYN has been harvesting these placentae (and presumably the umbilical cords) and passing the bits off as mushrooms! (Told you we'd get back to those.)

And just in case you thought "that's not so horrible," just keep scrolling down.

The doctor successfully re-implanted the infants.


After that, I need some brain bleach. Something cute. Ah, here:

Random Shit

So I was reading "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" #39, and on page 16 I see this:

I looked at it for a few seconds, thinking, "That demon reminds me of a Pokemon. Machamp, or something."

Someone please tell me it's not just me, and that thing really does bear an odd resemblance to Machoke.

Blogging, Comments

I've had a few anonymous cowards come on here and flat out insult me.

I have only ever had to delete two comments -- one that posted my personal information (who also hit my LiveJournal, and was probably my ex), and one that directly attacked me.

Holy shit, I posted something that offended someone? OH NO! NOT THAT! *pfft* People need to grow the fuck up, already, and get over it -- it's my blog, it's my content, and I post whatever I feel like posting. If you hate it so much you feel compelled to comment on it, please, don't bother. Just go somewhere else if you don't like it. (Christ, it's even in the disclaimer up top!)

Or, if you just HAVE TO comment on how much I suck*, please have the testicular fortitude to leave your name.


* My partner sure isn't complaining about it!

Google Chrome, Blogging, New Toys

I've been playing with Google Chrome for about a week, now, and I'm finding that I really like it.

There are apps that integrate themselves into the browser so smoothly, you'd never know they were there if you weren't using them!

For example, right now, I'm using ScribeFire -- this app allows me to post blog updates to both my blogger account AND my LiveJournal. At the same time.

And I could, if I felt like it, write several posts in advance, and schedule them for automatic posting later.

I see many, many, uses for this clever little app!