I was in Jewel yesterday with Schatzi and we were shopping for tonight's
dinner. We, inevitably, ended up meandering through the Hallmark aisle.
(Schatzi likes to send cards to her sister back in Germany.) I was
touching all the pretty cards, picking up a few to peruse and I get to a
section of 'goodbye' cards.
There was this blue card with a sparkly blue ribbon tied in the crease. I was instantly drawn to it and picked it up.
On the front there were the words for 'goodbye' in every language
imaginable. All written in bright, shiny, glittery ink and frilly font.
Inside it read:
"It was fun while it lasted and, now, it's time to say good-bye."
(Or something very close to that effect.)
In that moment, I was struck with the thought of how someone with
very high protocol would feel about being told to fuck off in such a
polite and manner-able way.
Truth? I burst out laughing at the thought. Right there in the aisle.
When I finally caught my breath and wiped the tears from my eyes, I thought about it some more.
Really, how perfectly fucking cuntish is it to buy a fancy card that says good-bye and send to a person in the mail, that you're just over dealing with? How hard a groin shot is it to be so fucking polite about a handing out a hearty 'fuck you!'?
That's how the fuck a real bitch flounces.
I'm considering going back to Jewel and buying every single one they have.
And they say hoodrats don't have manners.
My hair has been loved off, my eyes have dropped out, I'm loose in the joints & I'm pretty damn shabby. But. . .I think I'm -finally- real.
I hate WalMart. I love the smells of new Crayolas, bacon & clean sheets. My *blank stare w/raised eyebrow* scares small children. I think Monsanto is the Anti-Christ and saying 'fuck' warms my frozen, Grinch heart.
*waves hello*
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Goodbye. Arrivaderci. Sayonara. Auf Wiedersehen. Fuck you.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Rakes and hoes. Hoes and rakes.
rake: noun
a dissolute or profligate person, especially a man who is licentious (Promiscuous and unprincipled in sexual matters), profligate
Origin:
1645–55; see rakehell
Synonyms
libertine, lecher, womanizer.
whore: noun
a woman who engages in promiscuous sexual intercourse, usually for money; prostitute; harlot; strumpet.
Someone asked in a thread a while back, "What's the male equivalent of a hoe?"
I answered with 'rake'.
It seemed to go right over people's heads.
Why does 'hoe' carry such vitriol, yet, 'rake' carries none at all?
Both are names of garden tools and synonyms for sexual promiscuity.
But, no one ever spits 'You fucking rake!" at a man and uses it as an insult.
Fuck your double standards, society. Fuck you hard with them.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
The crazy women that raised me.
I don't talk much about my family, well, except my kids or grandson, but I decided to rectify that in 2012.
Stories. There were always stories. Sometimes funny, sometimes sad, and the first time you heard them felt the same as the 37th time you heard them. Somehow, they never got old.
This is the story of the mom, the grandmom and the would-be rapist.
It had to be sometime during 1969-70. My mom was separated from my dad and living with my grandmother.
She'd come home late from partying and decided to cut through the alley to go into the house through the back door and out jumped a man from the shadows. He grabbed my mom, who was quite tiny in stature, and dragged her into the walkway next to the garage. She said he immediately started groping her under her obligatory 60's mini-skirt (with white, patent leather go-go boots) and growling into her ear how he was going to rape her.
My mom was pretty unique, to say the least.
Anyway, she decided in that instant, to play his game. She began cooing to him that there was no need to rape her, she 'd go along willingly and while they were at it, why be out here in the alley? We can go inside my house where it's warm, she says. There's all this snow, she says. She might slip in her boots, she told him. She said she grabbed him by the hand and lead him to the house. Once they got to the enclosed back porch, she asked him to wait, that she had to make sure her mother was asleep and she'd sneak him in.
My mom went in, woke my grandmother, and told her what was happening.
My grandma got up, found a hammer, and went directly out to the porch like a raving lunatic. Threatening the would-be rapist's very life.
Apparently, he couldn't get out of there fast enough and he never bothered my mom again.
Yeah, that's the kind of women that raised me.
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