As most of you know I just had an adorable little girl. Ever since I pooped this little monster out of by baby hole I've discovered a thousand more stupid things that I hate but have been refraining from writing about them all in the interest of this not becoming the bitchy mom blog. My silence, however, ends here.
I never realized how much our culture demonizes women who choose to formula feed their children until I had one of my own. I'm going to try and tell the back story without any of the gory details, I don't want to have to deal with the guilt of having scared one of you sterile. (If you want to know you can ask me, but seriously, it will make you terrified of ever going to the hospital again.) Long story short, after her birth because of some complete incompetence on behalf of some medical "professionals" I ended up with a bad infection that because of some more medical incompetence didn't get caught or treated for more then a month. Because of complications from said infections I was not able to breast feed. It was sad, but I got over it... at least I would have gotten over it if nosy middle aged women didn't continue to rub it in my face all the f-ing time.
When did it become any ones business anyway? 'What are you doing with your boobs these days' has become the part of the standard line of new baby questions, everyone who sees her "Ohh! She's so cute! (standard question #1) How old is she? (standard question #2) Is she a good sleeper? (standard question #3) Are you breast feeding?" This isn't women I know either, this is random women in the grocery store, this is women from church that I recognise but don't actually know the names of. When I tell them that no, I'm not breast feeding, they either purse their lips and give me this disappointed look that seems to say 'Well I'm sorry you don't love your child enough to give them the best.' or they stare in horror and me and exclaim "Why!"
None of your damn business, that's why! There isn't a way to answer that question even if I wanted to because the only thing more awkward then being asked by a near stranger what's happening with your boobs is having to answer with a story about what's going on with your vagina and it's healing process. And you know what, plenty of children have grown up just fine on formula... I myself was never breast fed and it's pretty insulting when these women start quoting studies to me on how child who don't have mothers who care enough to breast feed them end up lazy brained. Unless I'm shaking them in your husband's face, what I choose to do with my titties is none of your concern! And the most frustrating of all is that I really wanted to breast feed and I have a good explanation for why I'm not, but I shouldn't have to explain it to anyone!
Dear world, yes I am bottle feeding my child, and no, that doesn't make me a bad mother. You can shove your pretentious breast feeding judgements up your ass.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Facebook Parents
My rant today is twofold. There are two kinds of parents on facebook (this could also apply to any other social networking site but since facebook is the only one I use that is the only one I will rant about. Non sequitur side note: myspace sucks) the first of which is the parents of the people for whom facebook was intended (ex: facebook was intended for my generation, thus, my parents fall into this category) and the second is the people for whom facebook was intended who have now procreated (ex: an old friend of mine from high school who shall remain nameless, for the sake of this rant we will refer to her and all similar people as "Parent X".
Let's start with my dear friend Parent X and all of her social networking counterparts. These are the people for whom parenthood has taken over their entire lives... or at least it would appear that way from looking at them on facebook. The people who don't have their own profile picture but instead have a picture of their kid there, which is especially handy when I can't remember for sure where I know this person from and then instead of being able to look at their picture and say "Oh yeah! It's whats-her-nuts from that-one-place!" I have to actually go to their profile page and then embark on a grand and epic quest to search through all their pictures trying to find one that is of them. And it really is a grand and epic quest since Parent X only ever seems to have 19thousand albums of just pictures of their kids, each album containing 14 almost identical pictures that they took in a three minute picture taking spree and then decided every single one needed to be imparted to the rest of the world. A picture may be worth a thousand words (or in this case a thousand pictures may be worth my wrath) but sometimes a few words really can say just as much. This is the case with Parent X's status updates, all of which are about what their kid is doing at this exact moment in time, with subsequent updates on said offspring's activities continuing multiple times a day, every single day. Does anything happen in their own lives anymore? At what point did they stop being an individual themselves and instead become just a conduit through which their children's exploits could be displayed? Really, I'm asking, I want to know, feel free to enlighten me if you have any explanations.
Then there are the second kind of facebook parents... the old people on facebook. But not all old people on facebook, no no, my anger here is reserved for the ones who are going to actually act like parents while they are on facebook. Anyone who at any point in your life could have been considered an authority figure and now continues in that roll by checking up on you on facebook. These are the people who see pictures of you taking shots of jager at a bar/making out with another girl at a party/going to a concert in revealing clothing/flipping off the camera and then leave you messages (or worse yet, corner you at church the next Sunday) and tell you that you need to not be so wild and that your actions are inappropriate. Out of sheer hatred I'm not even going to mention the people who see these things and then call your parents to tell them about your behavior, those people all need to get gonorrhea and fall off a cliff.
And so to conclude, I have written out the four commandments of facebook. If the ancient Israelites had internet access I'm confident God would have added these to those infamous stone tablets.
1. Thou Shalt Have Thine Own Profile Picture. When your little monsters are old enough to have their own facebook account then they can have a profile picture featuring only themselves... until then yours need to be of you or at the vary least of you with your child.
2. Thou Shalt Pick The Best Picture Of Thy Child, and Add Only That To The Album. Yes, we get it, your child sitting on the couch is just SOOO adorable, and the best way to get that perfect picture is to take shot after shot after shot. But that is only step one, step two is then going through all those nearly identical pictures of your spawn on the couch and picking the best one or two and only posting those. Trust me, nobody cares about the rest of them except you.
3. Thou Shalt Make Thy Status About Thyself. When your child does something that really effected your day or that other people will care about (hint: you are not a good judge of what other people care about, otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation), you can put that as your status. The fact that your child has been throwing up non-stop all day and it's making you want to drink - you may post this because it is about you as well. The fact that your child took their first steps - you may post this because it's a big deal and other people care. But nobody gives a shit that your kid is eating a cookie, or coloring a picture, or making funny noises. Repeat: NOBODY GIVES A SHIT.
4. Thou Shalt Be Prepared For The Content Of Facebook Or Thou Shalt Get The Fuck Off It. Call me old school, but I remember fondly the good old days when you had to be in college to get a facebook account and I am not going to start censoring myself just because some middle aged republican extended family member of mine is on here now. I drink, I occasionally give people the middle finger, and I am amused by making juvenile gestures pretending that the Sing Star microphone is a penis... and I will post those pictures. Also, I will swear in my status when I deem it necessary. If you have a problem with that I am not going to worry my pretty little head about it, parents shouldn't be on facebook unless they are ready to deal with what they find.
Let's start with my dear friend Parent X and all of her social networking counterparts. These are the people for whom parenthood has taken over their entire lives... or at least it would appear that way from looking at them on facebook. The people who don't have their own profile picture but instead have a picture of their kid there, which is especially handy when I can't remember for sure where I know this person from and then instead of being able to look at their picture and say "Oh yeah! It's whats-her-nuts from that-one-place!" I have to actually go to their profile page and then embark on a grand and epic quest to search through all their pictures trying to find one that is of them. And it really is a grand and epic quest since Parent X only ever seems to have 19thousand albums of just pictures of their kids, each album containing 14 almost identical pictures that they took in a three minute picture taking spree and then decided every single one needed to be imparted to the rest of the world. A picture may be worth a thousand words (or in this case a thousand pictures may be worth my wrath) but sometimes a few words really can say just as much. This is the case with Parent X's status updates, all of which are about what their kid is doing at this exact moment in time, with subsequent updates on said offspring's activities continuing multiple times a day, every single day. Does anything happen in their own lives anymore? At what point did they stop being an individual themselves and instead become just a conduit through which their children's exploits could be displayed? Really, I'm asking, I want to know, feel free to enlighten me if you have any explanations.
Then there are the second kind of facebook parents... the old people on facebook. But not all old people on facebook, no no, my anger here is reserved for the ones who are going to actually act like parents while they are on facebook. Anyone who at any point in your life could have been considered an authority figure and now continues in that roll by checking up on you on facebook. These are the people who see pictures of you taking shots of jager at a bar/making out with another girl at a party/going to a concert in revealing clothing/flipping off the camera and then leave you messages (or worse yet, corner you at church the next Sunday) and tell you that you need to not be so wild and that your actions are inappropriate. Out of sheer hatred I'm not even going to mention the people who see these things and then call your parents to tell them about your behavior, those people all need to get gonorrhea and fall off a cliff.
And so to conclude, I have written out the four commandments of facebook. If the ancient Israelites had internet access I'm confident God would have added these to those infamous stone tablets.
1. Thou Shalt Have Thine Own Profile Picture. When your little monsters are old enough to have their own facebook account then they can have a profile picture featuring only themselves... until then yours need to be of you or at the vary least of you with your child.
2. Thou Shalt Pick The Best Picture Of Thy Child, and Add Only That To The Album. Yes, we get it, your child sitting on the couch is just SOOO adorable, and the best way to get that perfect picture is to take shot after shot after shot. But that is only step one, step two is then going through all those nearly identical pictures of your spawn on the couch and picking the best one or two and only posting those. Trust me, nobody cares about the rest of them except you.
3. Thou Shalt Make Thy Status About Thyself. When your child does something that really effected your day or that other people will care about (hint: you are not a good judge of what other people care about, otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation), you can put that as your status. The fact that your child has been throwing up non-stop all day and it's making you want to drink - you may post this because it is about you as well. The fact that your child took their first steps - you may post this because it's a big deal and other people care. But nobody gives a shit that your kid is eating a cookie, or coloring a picture, or making funny noises. Repeat: NOBODY GIVES A SHIT.
4. Thou Shalt Be Prepared For The Content Of Facebook Or Thou Shalt Get The Fuck Off It. Call me old school, but I remember fondly the good old days when you had to be in college to get a facebook account and I am not going to start censoring myself just because some middle aged republican extended family member of mine is on here now. I drink, I occasionally give people the middle finger, and I am amused by making juvenile gestures pretending that the Sing Star microphone is a penis... and I will post those pictures. Also, I will swear in my status when I deem it necessary. If you have a problem with that I am not going to worry my pretty little head about it, parents shouldn't be on facebook unless they are ready to deal with what they find.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Food With 9,000 Ingredients
I will admit that I am 'that guy'. You know the person... the one standing in the middle of the aisle at the grocery store for 10 minutes comparing the labels on five different brands of apple sauce before finally being able to settle on one. I am an avid label reader... obsessive even, if there is more then one brand of something that I need I have no choice, I am stuck in that aisle until the quandary of which to choose has been un-quandrarified.
Organic, not organic, low sodium, low fat, all natural, it's all well and good but usually my decision comes down to one factor, which label I can pronounce and understand everything on. If the ingredients in (insert food product here) are roughly the same as they would have been if I had made it myself at home then my guilt over being a bad Mennonite and not actually making it myself is eased. But even stronger then my Mennonite guilt (and us Mennonites have a fantastic amount of guilt... that's right Jews, you're not the only ones who know how to work it) is my fear of the unknown, and in this case the unknown is 18 letter words that I couldn't pronounce if my life depended on it. I like to fancy myself highly literate and if I don't know what these words mean I feel like it can safely be assumed that the vast majority of the American population doesn't either.
So where do all these ingredients come from? What do they mean? What the hell are they? These are questions that I do not have answers for, but I can tell you from the vast amounts of time I have spent taking up space in that grocery store aisle reading those labels that they are in EVERYTHING. And some things I feel like are more justifiable then others, any frozen dinner for example... you're full of bad things and that's old news. Sorry DiGiorno, I know you thought writing "made with real cheese" on the box would make people mistake you for health food but you aren't fooling anyone. And then there are other things that I feel like have no right to have crazy ingredients in, Juice for example. You are juice, juice is not even a product it's an ingredient in and of itself so if you say you are juice then you should contain one thing... and that is juice. You may also, in my humble opinion, also contain water and maybe an added vitamin or two but that is about it. When four out of the top five ingredients on your label (hint: you shouldn't have five ingredients on your label at all) are just different ways to say sugar then calling yourself juice makes you a big fat liar.
To clarify, I am not a crazy food person obsessed with healthy stuff and terrified of preservatives, I've had mac and cheese made with Velveeta for lunch almost every day for the past week and the number of Totinos pizzas that get consumed at my house can only be described as inappropriate... I just am confused by everything having a list of ingredients as long as my arm, I don't understand it, it weirds me out, and I feel like they're taking over the world... or at least the grocery store.
Organic, not organic, low sodium, low fat, all natural, it's all well and good but usually my decision comes down to one factor, which label I can pronounce and understand everything on. If the ingredients in (insert food product here) are roughly the same as they would have been if I had made it myself at home then my guilt over being a bad Mennonite and not actually making it myself is eased. But even stronger then my Mennonite guilt (and us Mennonites have a fantastic amount of guilt... that's right Jews, you're not the only ones who know how to work it) is my fear of the unknown, and in this case the unknown is 18 letter words that I couldn't pronounce if my life depended on it. I like to fancy myself highly literate and if I don't know what these words mean I feel like it can safely be assumed that the vast majority of the American population doesn't either.
So where do all these ingredients come from? What do they mean? What the hell are they? These are questions that I do not have answers for, but I can tell you from the vast amounts of time I have spent taking up space in that grocery store aisle reading those labels that they are in EVERYTHING. And some things I feel like are more justifiable then others, any frozen dinner for example... you're full of bad things and that's old news. Sorry DiGiorno, I know you thought writing "made with real cheese" on the box would make people mistake you for health food but you aren't fooling anyone. And then there are other things that I feel like have no right to have crazy ingredients in, Juice for example. You are juice, juice is not even a product it's an ingredient in and of itself so if you say you are juice then you should contain one thing... and that is juice. You may also, in my humble opinion, also contain water and maybe an added vitamin or two but that is about it. When four out of the top five ingredients on your label (hint: you shouldn't have five ingredients on your label at all) are just different ways to say sugar then calling yourself juice makes you a big fat liar.
To clarify, I am not a crazy food person obsessed with healthy stuff and terrified of preservatives, I've had mac and cheese made with Velveeta for lunch almost every day for the past week and the number of Totinos pizzas that get consumed at my house can only be described as inappropriate... I just am confused by everything having a list of ingredients as long as my arm, I don't understand it, it weirds me out, and I feel like they're taking over the world... or at least the grocery store.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Paying for Parking at a Hospital
First off is there anything more infuriating in this world then having to pay for parking? The idea that I have to give someone money so that I have the right to turn off my car and stand outside of it makes me want to go on a killing spree, but seriously people... at a hospital?!?!
Who decided this was a good business move? I have this mental image of all these old rich white guys in their over priced suits sitting in the hospital corporate office brainstorming about how to squeeze just a few more dollars out of those stupid sick people and their loved ones and someone came up with the idea of charging people for parking. "I saw a little girl come in here with her mother this morning to say goodbye to her dying father... what if we made her give us $4 for every two hours she spent in here with him? I bet they would be so preoccupied with things like 'how are we ever going to go on without him?' and 'how are we going to pay the rent?' that they would cough up those $4 without a fight at all!" "Here here! Jolly oh!" shout the rest of the old men as their raise their little glasses of of cognac in a cheer. (I'm not sure why but all the executives are British and have handlebar moustaches in this fantasy... if anyone has an explanation for that I'd love to hear it.)
Really, I just want them to be forced to grow the balls to say it to my face. "Yes Jenna, we know that you're in active labor... oh, you need to see a doctor right now? That's such a coincidence because we need that $4... You were too busy grabbing your suitcase and calling your mother after your water broke to think to stop by the ATM for some cash? Excuses, excuses... I'm sorry but you can park down the street and walk... yes, we share your concern about the baby falling out while you're in the middle of the crosswalk, that's a concern we will all have to deal with."
It costs enough to go to the hospital at all, and now they want to steal my vending machine money too? Dear hospital and you're fancy parking lot, feel free to lick my taint.
Who decided this was a good business move? I have this mental image of all these old rich white guys in their over priced suits sitting in the hospital corporate office brainstorming about how to squeeze just a few more dollars out of those stupid sick people and their loved ones and someone came up with the idea of charging people for parking. "I saw a little girl come in here with her mother this morning to say goodbye to her dying father... what if we made her give us $4 for every two hours she spent in here with him? I bet they would be so preoccupied with things like 'how are we ever going to go on without him?' and 'how are we going to pay the rent?' that they would cough up those $4 without a fight at all!" "Here here! Jolly oh!" shout the rest of the old men as their raise their little glasses of of cognac in a cheer. (I'm not sure why but all the executives are British and have handlebar moustaches in this fantasy... if anyone has an explanation for that I'd love to hear it.)
Really, I just want them to be forced to grow the balls to say it to my face. "Yes Jenna, we know that you're in active labor... oh, you need to see a doctor right now? That's such a coincidence because we need that $4... You were too busy grabbing your suitcase and calling your mother after your water broke to think to stop by the ATM for some cash? Excuses, excuses... I'm sorry but you can park down the street and walk... yes, we share your concern about the baby falling out while you're in the middle of the crosswalk, that's a concern we will all have to deal with."
It costs enough to go to the hospital at all, and now they want to steal my vending machine money too? Dear hospital and you're fancy parking lot, feel free to lick my taint.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
ppl who use txt spk
how lzy can u b? wat n the world can b so important tht u dnt have time 2 type 1 xtra fucking vowel n a wrd?
Ok, I went into this with the intention of typing this whole entry in text speak but realized very quickly I was not going to get through much more without getting so furious I'd throw my laptop out the window. But seriously... how lazy can you possibly be? Is it really that difficult or time consuming to type a vowel? Are you really so busy and important that the extra effort expended typing the E at the end of the word "be" in your facebook status is going to make you late for your next big meeting? No, you're just a lazy little shit. In fact, in honor of how lazy people who type that way are I'm going to rename it... it is no longer text speak (or txt spk), the new name for this language is Lazy Fuck (or lzy fck).
I will be the first to admit that I'm not a super highly motivated person, in fact in a lot of ways you could rightly call me kinda lazy, but it is a testament to how lazy of a society we live in when a three letter word like "you" becomes too much for us to handle. And I wish... oh how I wish!... it was just kids doing it, but no, people from all walks of life are killing their braincells communicating in Lazy Fuck instead of English. I used to nanny a little boy and whenever his mom would need to tell me something she would text me from work using Lazy Fuck. Seriously? This is probably the only "adult" communication I will get to participate in during my whole work day and I'm forced to waste it talking to what I can only assume is a 12 year old girl because I refuse to believe any self respecting 45 year old business women would type this way. I wish I was kidding when I said that communicating with the little boy required substantially less translation for me to understand then talking to her did. Congratulations... your two year old has a better grasp of the English language then you do apparently.
People will justify it "but it's just so much faster! Why would I want to waste time typing something long when I could just type something super short?" Because the rest of the world, and by that I mean those of us who are literate, can't understand a single thing you say. If you're bothering to type it at all I can only assume it's because you want people to read it, if not you're wasting time anyway so either way your logic is fatally flawed. Those of us who speak and type fluent English have to read something you wrote in Lazy Fuck ten times to figure out what it is you're trying to say... and most of us don't even bother because we know that typing in Lazy Fuck has made the odds that you're saying something worthwhile dwindle down to next to nothing and we don't want to waste our time. And if that weren't enough of a reason to use real words, you could just do it because you don't want to contribute to the stupidity rapidly overtaking our culture or just because you yourself don't want to come across as a moron who's only future prospects involve fast food, the adult film industry, and a trailer park.
In case there's anyone reading this who is accustomed to using Lazy Fuck and therefore having trouble understand anything I'm saying because the English portion of their brain has atrophied, I'll translate one last message. u r stupd, grow the fck up.
Ok, I went into this with the intention of typing this whole entry in text speak but realized very quickly I was not going to get through much more without getting so furious I'd throw my laptop out the window. But seriously... how lazy can you possibly be? Is it really that difficult or time consuming to type a vowel? Are you really so busy and important that the extra effort expended typing the E at the end of the word "be" in your facebook status is going to make you late for your next big meeting? No, you're just a lazy little shit. In fact, in honor of how lazy people who type that way are I'm going to rename it... it is no longer text speak (or txt spk), the new name for this language is Lazy Fuck (or lzy fck).
I will be the first to admit that I'm not a super highly motivated person, in fact in a lot of ways you could rightly call me kinda lazy, but it is a testament to how lazy of a society we live in when a three letter word like "you" becomes too much for us to handle. And I wish... oh how I wish!... it was just kids doing it, but no, people from all walks of life are killing their braincells communicating in Lazy Fuck instead of English. I used to nanny a little boy and whenever his mom would need to tell me something she would text me from work using Lazy Fuck. Seriously? This is probably the only "adult" communication I will get to participate in during my whole work day and I'm forced to waste it talking to what I can only assume is a 12 year old girl because I refuse to believe any self respecting 45 year old business women would type this way. I wish I was kidding when I said that communicating with the little boy required substantially less translation for me to understand then talking to her did. Congratulations... your two year old has a better grasp of the English language then you do apparently.
People will justify it "but it's just so much faster! Why would I want to waste time typing something long when I could just type something super short?" Because the rest of the world, and by that I mean those of us who are literate, can't understand a single thing you say. If you're bothering to type it at all I can only assume it's because you want people to read it, if not you're wasting time anyway so either way your logic is fatally flawed. Those of us who speak and type fluent English have to read something you wrote in Lazy Fuck ten times to figure out what it is you're trying to say... and most of us don't even bother because we know that typing in Lazy Fuck has made the odds that you're saying something worthwhile dwindle down to next to nothing and we don't want to waste our time. And if that weren't enough of a reason to use real words, you could just do it because you don't want to contribute to the stupidity rapidly overtaking our culture or just because you yourself don't want to come across as a moron who's only future prospects involve fast food, the adult film industry, and a trailer park.
In case there's anyone reading this who is accustomed to using Lazy Fuck and therefore having trouble understand anything I'm saying because the English portion of their brain has atrophied, I'll translate one last message. u r stupd, grow the fck up.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Christmas Body Product Assault
I like lotion as much as the next person (possible more so because I'm big fat giant pregnant and my stretch marks itch like a bitch so I have to use it 5 times a day to keep from scratching myself to death). I also like things that smell nice as much as the next person, and let's face it... bath products are a necessary part of life. My question is, when did these things become the only acceptable present for a female age 16-30?
Every year I celebrate this magical season by opening one sugary smelling gift after the other... all in different scents of course, so I can't even use multiple ones on the same day or I'll smell like a hobo who's been camping out behind the cosmetics counter at Dillard's for the past week. Or they come in a giant bath gift set with ten different scented articles, half of which I don't even know the use of. (Seriously, why do I need separate body wash and bubble bath? If you can't get an acceptable amount of bubbles from squirting some body wash under the tap when you're filling the tub then you are just being a greedy little bitch. Oh, and what the fuck is a bath salt?) I think it must be in the Bible somewhere and I've been missing it all these years... somewhere in the Christmas story there must be a verse "And thou shalt celebrate my birthday by assaulting one another with over-priced bottles of synethically scented pomegranate orange." (Gospel according to Bath and Body Works?)
My problem is not with the fact that I get these gifts but with the sheer quantity in which they come, they're like a slimy version of Lays potato chips... you can never have just one. This year I actually got not one, but two whole bath gift sets FROM THE SAME PERSON (I got plenty of other gifts in this category from other people too) and all I could think of was "Really? You don't think I have enough things to think about in my day without having to start it off by deciding between multiple brands of face wash?" (P.S. I am always going to use my own face wash... that is one bottle in the basket that will go straight in the trash.) Or I'll get the sampler lotion gift set that comes with six different full sized bottles of lotion... like I said, I love me some lotion but how would I ever use that much? The only person that gift is appropriate for is teenage boys, they are the only demographic that will ever go through lotion at that rate, though maybe for a different use then you intended.
What I don't understand though is why. Do 20 something women naturally smell bad and I didn't get the memo? Do we have abnormally dry and crusty skin and the world is trying to tell us? Or maybe it's just me... maybe I just smell bad and nobody up to this point in my life had been able to grow the balls to clue me in. If someone questions my hygiene I would really prefer they just tell me instead of sending these coded messages in snowflake covered decorative bags. At least then I wouldn't have to deal with this moral quandary of whether or not it's kosher to move something directly from a gift bag to a trash bag.
If Jesus had the abounding opportunities to smell like vanilla and lavender like I do he totally would have had a happy birthday.
Every year I celebrate this magical season by opening one sugary smelling gift after the other... all in different scents of course, so I can't even use multiple ones on the same day or I'll smell like a hobo who's been camping out behind the cosmetics counter at Dillard's for the past week. Or they come in a giant bath gift set with ten different scented articles, half of which I don't even know the use of. (Seriously, why do I need separate body wash and bubble bath? If you can't get an acceptable amount of bubbles from squirting some body wash under the tap when you're filling the tub then you are just being a greedy little bitch. Oh, and what the fuck is a bath salt?) I think it must be in the Bible somewhere and I've been missing it all these years... somewhere in the Christmas story there must be a verse "And thou shalt celebrate my birthday by assaulting one another with over-priced bottles of synethically scented pomegranate orange." (Gospel according to Bath and Body Works?)
My problem is not with the fact that I get these gifts but with the sheer quantity in which they come, they're like a slimy version of Lays potato chips... you can never have just one. This year I actually got not one, but two whole bath gift sets FROM THE SAME PERSON (I got plenty of other gifts in this category from other people too) and all I could think of was "Really? You don't think I have enough things to think about in my day without having to start it off by deciding between multiple brands of face wash?" (P.S. I am always going to use my own face wash... that is one bottle in the basket that will go straight in the trash.) Or I'll get the sampler lotion gift set that comes with six different full sized bottles of lotion... like I said, I love me some lotion but how would I ever use that much? The only person that gift is appropriate for is teenage boys, they are the only demographic that will ever go through lotion at that rate, though maybe for a different use then you intended.
What I don't understand though is why. Do 20 something women naturally smell bad and I didn't get the memo? Do we have abnormally dry and crusty skin and the world is trying to tell us? Or maybe it's just me... maybe I just smell bad and nobody up to this point in my life had been able to grow the balls to clue me in. If someone questions my hygiene I would really prefer they just tell me instead of sending these coded messages in snowflake covered decorative bags. At least then I wouldn't have to deal with this moral quandary of whether or not it's kosher to move something directly from a gift bag to a trash bag.
If Jesus had the abounding opportunities to smell like vanilla and lavender like I do he totally would have had a happy birthday.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Black Friday
My hatred is not for Black Friday in and of itself, but rather for people with strong feelings towards it. Actually that statement is also misleading because I myself have strong feelings about it... I DON'T CARE.
Let's assume for a second that I choose to spend my day off sleeping in. Oh no! I missed out on all these great deals! There is no way I can possibly go on living knowing that I didn't get 20% off the 3rd season of Quantum Leap on DVD! Who the hell cares?! Yeah, I know it's completely outrageous to believe that someone might find it more rewarding to stay curled up in a nice warm bed on a chilly morning snuggled up with someone they don't get to spend enough time with instead of standing in a line getting frost bite for a chance to throw elbows into an old ladies gut trying to beat her to that last half off cappuccino maker. And just for the record it is possible to choose to opt out of the madness because you want to, not everyone who makes that decision does so because they "just don't know how much fun it is".
Now once again let's assume that I really really did want that 3rd season of Quantum Leap on DVD and get up early to go get it for 20% off. Oh my goodness! I'm participating in a tradition that supports American consumerism! How can I possible sleep at night knowing that I'm such a pawn of capitalism?! Who the hell cares!? How many facebook status's did I see the Friday and Saturday after Thanksgiving with snide remarks about how sad it is that people chose to participate... how fucking condescending can you be? Woohoo! You spent one whole morning not buying things... do you want a gold star for your superior moral character? And for the record you're stupid if you don't realize how hilarious it is that you talk about "those people" who participate in this "capitalism debauchery" and then in the next sentence brag about the fantastic sale you found on the shoes you're wearing. I guess I didn't get the memo that sales are good except for one morning of the year when they're evil. Money in the system is money in the system... sorry to burst your bubble.
So seriously, go shopping or don't. I don't care. I'll go shopping or I won't. It's stupid for you to be concerned.
Let's assume for a second that I choose to spend my day off sleeping in. Oh no! I missed out on all these great deals! There is no way I can possibly go on living knowing that I didn't get 20% off the 3rd season of Quantum Leap on DVD! Who the hell cares?! Yeah, I know it's completely outrageous to believe that someone might find it more rewarding to stay curled up in a nice warm bed on a chilly morning snuggled up with someone they don't get to spend enough time with instead of standing in a line getting frost bite for a chance to throw elbows into an old ladies gut trying to beat her to that last half off cappuccino maker. And just for the record it is possible to choose to opt out of the madness because you want to, not everyone who makes that decision does so because they "just don't know how much fun it is".
Now once again let's assume that I really really did want that 3rd season of Quantum Leap on DVD and get up early to go get it for 20% off. Oh my goodness! I'm participating in a tradition that supports American consumerism! How can I possible sleep at night knowing that I'm such a pawn of capitalism?! Who the hell cares!? How many facebook status's did I see the Friday and Saturday after Thanksgiving with snide remarks about how sad it is that people chose to participate... how fucking condescending can you be? Woohoo! You spent one whole morning not buying things... do you want a gold star for your superior moral character? And for the record you're stupid if you don't realize how hilarious it is that you talk about "those people" who participate in this "capitalism debauchery" and then in the next sentence brag about the fantastic sale you found on the shoes you're wearing. I guess I didn't get the memo that sales are good except for one morning of the year when they're evil. Money in the system is money in the system... sorry to burst your bubble.
So seriously, go shopping or don't. I don't care. I'll go shopping or I won't. It's stupid for you to be concerned.
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