Private Idaho

I don't know what it is today, but I am all kinds of tired. Oh, I know what it is. I stayed up too late and woke up to early. I've been zombie status all day because of it, but as promised, here is a time warp from a very memorable first day of school.

Mid-way through my seventh-grade year, my mother moved my two sisters and me to Idaho. The details of why are not important, but just know that we were not happy. We had visited my Uncle Stew and his family when we were younger and Baby Sis had not been created yet, but all I could remember was that my older cousin Mike was a dick. I was also bitter that Uncle Stew had effectively stolen my grandmother from us, as shortly after my mom and step dad married, she went to live in Idaho.

My Uncle Marc and his buddy helped us move up there. He made it fun. Everything was a joke and he helped change my attitude about how Idaho was going to be. Except Uncle Marc wasn't staying in Idaho with us.

We got there and settled in as best we could with Uncle Stew's (at the time) 3 little kids running amok and creeping us out. The girl, Jo, was 4-ish and kept chanting "The cousins are coming!" over and over. While only 11, my witt and sarcasm was already strongly developed and I had to refrain from making fun of them...all of them.

You know what, there is far too much detail required to explain my family in Idaho. And considering they're the most manipulative, hypocritical Christians I have ever met, we're gonna skip 'em. They don't really matter in life so they shouldn't matter in my blog (which I know one of them reads searching for gossip).

So our first day of school came and it was cold as shit. Most of our clothing wasn't unpacked yet, though I was lacking on the winter clothing front. We had come from California, it wasn't anywhere near that cold. I threw together (what I thought) was a cute outfit and tried to mimic my Older Sister's "I don't give a fuck" 'tude. I failed (of course) but we looked good and I had just learned that the middle school and high school were joined, so I would have her there if I needed her.

Mom drove us to school (but we later took the bus), which was located 14 miles away in the town of Riggins. Everyone stopped and turned on the town's main strip when we passed. Mom drove a candy-apple red Lincoln Town Car, so I guess we stood out a bit. As she turned up the steep hill to the school, I got more nervous. Would they like me? Would they hate me? Would there be cute boys? What if I got lost? What if Older Sister ditched me (she did)? What if I got on the wrong bus home?

When we flattened out and I saw the actual school, I let out an audible laugh. My middle school back home was bigger than this place. When we walked to the office through the main hall, I literally LOL'd because there was absolutely no way to get lost. The main hall was the only hall. It connected everything. Well, except the main middle school building, but that also had one hall and only two classrooms. One question answered, I would not get lost.

A very large, loud woman with Texas pageant hair greeted us at the office. Her name was Winnie (no more code names, shit just got real) and she was the Principal. I would later learn the students called her Winnie the Pooh, which is hilarious now because she went on and on about how much everyone liked her. They didn't. At all.

This is where I am sure I am messing the whole year we were there into one day. I can remember the events of that day, just not the order, so eff it. You'll be gettin' a great tale.

I think the first class I went to was that of Buck Fitch. Yes, that is his name. He was out social studies teacher. He was big, balding, and burly and the best part...he had a stutter. He yelled at everyone for no apparent reason and the louder and meaner he got, the more the stutter came out. Once, he was talking to my mom and he said "L-l-l-l-Lydia" and she wasn't aware of the stutter. She thought he was calling her Little Lydia (my grandma and her have the same first name) and she said "Who you callin' little?!" If he wasn't such a jerk, I probably would have felt bad for him.

He sat me by Greg, our next door neighbor. He was cute (I thought at 11, now, not so much) and seemed like a bad boy. Every girl likes a bad boy, right? Seated next to him were the two Sarah's. Or Sara and Sarah. Sarah was brunette, while Sara was blond. Both looked like skanks. Yes, skanky 12-year-olds. Well, almost 13, I would learn because at 11, I was the youngest 7th grader.

The Sarah/Sara's started in on me quick. Where in California was I from? Where did I shop at? Was I in a gang? Did I know Snoop Dogg? Did I surf every day? All the stuff they had ever heard about California. I should have let them think I was in a gang, maybe they wouldn't have made the next year of my life a living hell.

The next class was with Mrs. Updegrove. Math. It was pretty remedial for me and my fancy California education (public school but light years ahead of them) and I spent most of the class getting to know the rest of them. Topper (real name and yes, after the penguin) was a country boy who was illiterate. He had to read something from the textbook and he struggled with the word "The". He was funny enough, in a laughing at not with way, and he dipped in class. I had no idea what dip even was until him, so thanks for that, I guess. His midget buddy Ryan sat next to him. I'm sure he has grown since then, but he was shorter than me. And like all short boys, he was a loud mouth trying to make up for his stature. He had blond hair and it flopped over his forehead in what I now think was a primitive Bieber hair style, but shaved in the back. He wore baggy clothes because no one informed Idaho that trend had passed.

The girls were nice enough. Lindsey, Stephanie and Meghan all were jocks and sat together. Shannon and Thea were glued to each others hip. And Faith and Miranda were part of the Sarah/Sara's and part of the others. Believe me, it was a very fine line to walk. There was also Barbara and Danielle. Barbara could use a shower and Danielle was a beached whale. I didn't care how nice they were (well, Danielle was NOT) I knew to stay away.

Following math was science with Mr. McCormick. He was a ginger (before it was cool...just kidding, it was never cool), short, and peppy. He took to me right away. He was sarcastic and dry at times and I would be the only one who laughed/got it. He would dryly crack on each student as they attempted to read, and though I am sure it didn't help me fit in, I had to laugh. He said "Let's see what you got" and had me read aloud. He gave me a standing ovation and said "Thank you, I truly appreciate that." That's where my day started to go downhill.

Lunch happened and I sat outside by myself because my sister had already become popular and didn't meet me. A few upperclassmen walked by and took pity on me to strike up a conversation. They knew my cousin Mike and maybe he said to be nice to me or maybe they knew what a chode he was and felt bad, but they spent the rest of lunch outside with me.

After lunch was English with Mr. Lindsey. He was originally from there, moved away to find a wife who wasn't related to him (most of that canyon was inbred, I'd put money on it) and came back to teach. He was pretty cool, though the rest of the students didn't think so. Maybe because he required them to do shit. Maybe because his wife was Alaskan Indian. Seriously. Biggest bunch of racists to ever walk the earth. To this day I am still friends with the Lindsey Family. Tim is the oldest, then Jordan, then Ana and his wife Bev. They were like an oasis in the desert for our family. If any of you are reading this, I would not have survived that hell whole without you all. And Mr. Lindsey (I can't call you Randy), you have no idea how much you molded me in your class. Thank you.

I had band and something else that day but I can't remember. In band, though I was a clarinet player, they gave me a trombone. Seriously. Then somehow I got switched to percussion. Sarah played clarinet and tried to make me intimidated. Now I know she was so good because she sucked cock like a champ.

It never got better. Ever. They hated me from day one to the very last day when we left that hell whole back for California. Sure, there were moments of fun. Like when I personally started a middle school cheer squad, but that slowly lost its luster when the Sarah/Sara's and Mirnada threatened to beat my ass if I stayed on it. I did, but only to piss them off. There was Aaron. My first real boyfriend. His brother was dating my sister, well, since they were two of the only not inbred guys in town. I was too young and immature to handle it though and broke up with him over something stupid a month or so after. Big mistake because it just gave them another reason to hate me.

I went to church, so there was another strike. I didn't live in a trailer (which was all the rage there) so I must have thought I was better than them. My mom drove a "limo" as they called it, so we must be all fancy. They didn't get my sense of humor, I didn't dress like a skank, I thought studying was a good thing, and I wore glasses. I also wasn't my older sister. She was adored or feared in her half of the school, I was tortured. I cried daily, though I tried to never let them see me cry. I would hide out in the library whenever possible or hang with some upper-classmen from band as they protected me from the wrath of the Sarah/Sara's. We got a new principal and he expelled Sarah for her threats and bullying, but her white trash family slashed his tires and she was allowed to come back.

I prayed every morning and read Ephisians 6:10-17 in the parking lot before going in. You know, "put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes..." because to me Sarah was the devil. My eyes filled with tears and hers filled with hate. I now know somethings about her family that explain a whole lot. She also got knocked up in high school (probably by her daddy) and popped out a few more before marrying a much older man. She still lives in that canyon and probably still gets off on making other's miserable. She probably wouldn't remember my name if I told it to her, but I'll always remember hers and pity the shit out of her. Knowing that she doesn't know how disgusting she is makes me happy. Is that wrong?

There are a few girls who have gotten out and gone far. I occasionally talk to them on FB and I am very happy for them. They have wonderful husbands, happy kids, good jobs, and they didn't let that canyon swallow them up. Unfortunately, they are few and far between. A quick FB search of the names I can remember (okay, like all of them) shows that they're still getting drunk and high, have different baby daddies/mommas, never went to college or didn't graduate and still live in a trailer. Qualities that make you popular in Riggins.

I could write an entire book on that year in Riggins, easily. Remind me some time and I'll share some more. See you tomorrow!

ABC

Little Bug had to get shots today. She was brave and conned me into a doughnut afterward. She has 2 more next month and then one in December and then she'll be all caught up. It seems like a bunch, but because the medical clinic in Germany lost her shot record, she had to get some repeats. When we PCS'd they gave us the wrong one and then when I called from the states (one hell of a bill) they said they purged their records. Um, by law you have to keep them for 5 years after the child's 18th birthday. Apparently, Little Bug is 23 now.

Whatever. She needs them anyway, now she's just super protected when she starts school next month. Yep. Next. Month. It's pre-K and only 3 hours a day, but she's very excited. I am too, but the more I think about it, the sadder I get! She's really going to be fine, I don't even think she'll miss me all that much, but I worry about how the other kids will treat her.

Too many times here in the Sun City she's been picked on for being blond-haired and blue-eyed. She's gotten teased for not speaking Spanish or for pronouncing something wrong when she tries. She's really one of the kindest kids you'll ever meet but doesn't quite grasp why other kids aren't. How do you tell your 4-year-old that someone doesn't want to be their friend because of her skin color? Especially when things like that don't even enter into her mind.

I'm just going to have to be THAT MOM. I'll volunteer for everything, make snacks and crafts and all that jazz to ensure she's getting treated well, if not better, than the other kids. I'll join the PTA and kiss whoever's ass I need to to make damn sure that she isn't discriminated against or picked on. It breaks my heart when someone is mean to her (and I try not to break their faces) but I will be damned if it happens at school.

Now on to happy school thought...shopping! She doesn't have to wear a uniform (kinda bummed, they're so cute!). This leaves me with unlimited potential to have a pre-k fashionista. And backpacks...they are so stinkin' cute! There's a Brave one that I love for her, but she'll probably want something pink. Lame.

Today was supposed to be a Must Have Monday, but I highly doubt any of you really would like any of the things I picked. I'm in class mom mode and already have a super long school must list.

I'll return to typical Fat Bottomed girl form tomorrow. I'll time warp one of my most memorable first days of school, Riggins, Idaho. It is not to be missed.

Until then, feel free to share with me some pre-k tips for me and her. Routines that work, sleep schedules, whatever will make this stress free and fun! See you tomorrow.

Take U To Da Movies

I caved. I'm blogging my movie excursion. But first, the title of the blog is (of course) a song title, but you MUST see the music video.

BANGS- Take U To Da Movies

You. Are. Very. Welcome. What's that? You didn't thank me for bringing such awesome into your life? Well, you will later when this gem is stuck in your head. Because you can go to da movies any time u like, but guess who you gonna call? U baby boy, Bangs. 

Okay, took Little Bug to the 11:55 (AM because I am not an awful parent...too soon?) showing of Ice Age: Continental Drift. Her cousins had already seen it and raved about how funny it was, so she was dying to go. My older sister said that it wasn't bad either, so I wasn't dreading it. We got to the theater at 11:30-ish so I'd have plenty of time to get tickets, get her to use the bathroom, get her snack and find seats. I know it's been out for a while, but it was Saturday morning. There are always families out on Saturday morning. And, frankly, I wanted the seats in the front part of the top section so I could put my feet on the rail.

By 11:45 we entered the theater and our seats were open. I situated Little Bug, laid out her spread of popcorn, M&M's and fruit punch and checked in on Foresquare (gotta get dem points). There were a few other people in the theater but they were sitting higher up. They also didn't have children with them. Score! Kids movies without kids are the best. Little Bug doesn't count. She behaves better than most adults. 

Slowly, like Michael Phelps' 400 IM performance tonight kind of slowly, people started coming in. It's sort of a pet peeve of mine when people are late to a movie. They come in and finger pop each other's assholes instead of finding a seat. They yell for the rest of their party to join them, though they are only 2 feet away. Granted, I think late to a movie is one second after the trailers have started. These people were still technically on time. 

First up was a middle-aged Hispanic man with a soul-patch. He wore cargo shorts and a tee that had some attempt at a witty saying. He was followed by his wife, a white woman who looked younger with dirty blond hair and a very tired look. She pushed an umbrella stroller with a child in it. He was about 1, maybe younger, but he was already fussy. The husband sat down to the left of us but a row back, mumbling about how the seat he wanted was taken. I'm pretty sure he meant us as he was scowling right at me. The wife left the stroller at the base of the steps (with the baby in it) and then went to her husbands side. As the baby fussed and flailed, she stood next to his chair as he listed off things he wanted from the snack bar. She nodded and then started to walk out of the theater, but turned back when he said "Take care of it. I'm not missing this movie." She obediently fetched the stroller and left. 

I was not aware that Ice Age was the must see movie of the year. She came back after only a few minutes, juggling popcorn, a soda and two boxes of candy along with the stroller. Again, she left the baby at the foot of the stairs and took him his feast. She went back to the baby and started to take him out of the stroller, but the husband said "Keep him in it cause I ain't holdin' him." 

That's where she STOOD for the rest fo the movie. Just to the left of us, a family of four sat down. Well, the mom first asked if the seat next to Little Bug was taken and I said no. She plopped her 10-year-old down in the seat, then she sat, then her other kid, then the father. She handed the other kid a box of candy and then turned to the 10-year-old and said "You're in trouble, you don't get any!" I'm all for punishing your children if they deserve it, but she said it like she was getting off on it. I actually heard her let out a "ha ha ha." 

Behind us sat a family of 7. Five boys, all under 6 easily, and a mom and dad. The mom looked frazzled and understandably so. Her oldest (and fattest) sat behind me and proceeded to kick the headrest of my seat. Mommy dearest was dealing with a 2-year-old who was trying to take her diet coke (which she SCREAMED at him for) and Fatty wanted her to pay attention to him. He kept saying "Look mom, I'm kicking the chair. Look what I'm doing mom! Mom look!" I didn't hear her correct him, but he stopped suddenly. She probably gave him a "mom look". The dad stood up and said "I ahve to use the restroom", though it was more of a request than a statement of fact. She glared at him and said "Go. Quickly." 

Once the movie started, I figured it wouldn't be so bad. Kids make "oohs" and "aahs" and even talk a bit, but it's a kids movie. That's what they do. I was wrong. It wasn't just so bad. It was awful. Little Bug makes me thank the lord that she's my daughter and I didn't get stuck with any other kid in that theater. 

The 10-year-old spent the whole movie kicking the bars in front of us. It started out as an annoying vibration I could feel in my propped-up feet and then morphed into a constant "thomp thomp thomp" for the entire course of the flick. He also kept trying to steal Little Bug's M&M's when she would set them in her cup holder. I caught him each time. He would watch her and slowly creep his hand on the bag, until he'd see me looking and he'd turn and resume his kicking. His mother (a Fressa if I've ever seen one) largely ignored him the whole time as she was too busy, ANSWERING HER PHONE. She would answer it (a total of 6 TIMES) and say "Hey. Yeah. I can't talk. I'm in a movie. Yeah, that one. I know. I'll call you back." The sixth time became her last as I had finally had enough. The kid was kicking and trying to steal the M&M's whilst giving everyone a play-by-play of the movie and she answered her phone again. I had had enough. I said "Excuse me. If my 4-year-old can behave, then maybe should get off your phone and make your kid behave." She glared at me hard and then said into her phone "Yeah, I gotta go. Some white girl is getting pissed."

Back to the father and husband of the year. His wife stood for the whole movie and that baby wailed for 30 minutes straight. No exaggeration. He didn't even flinch. He just belly-laughed at stuff that wasn't that funny and would say "Oh shit!" during the action parts. His wife walked the baby out once, but came back in, only to have it wail again. But he had the nerve to loudly whisper "shut up!" when the family of 7's 2-year-old got excited. Part of me wanted to do his wife a favor and forcibly shut him up, but he definitely wasn't worth jail time.

Once the movie ended, I realized how many adults were in the theater. Far more than the number of children. It always skeeves me out when older adults are kidless at a kids movie. Shaking off the heeby-jeebies, I started to gather our things and trash, but sat as Little Bug danced to the end credits music. The Fressa stood up, walked right into her 10-year-old and then promptly launched her phone into the air. No one saw where it landed apparently, because she screamed at her husband to call it. I had to laugh out loud. She glared at me, but then frantically returned to searching (on her hands and knees) for it. The husband and kids started to grab their trash and she said "LEAVE IT! FIND MY PHONE!" I told Little Bug to grab her M&M's packaging because "good people don't leave their garbage. Only awful people do." Little Bug, as if catching on to the dig, said "That's right Momma, we're not awful people who leave their trash." I love that kid.

It always happens to me, it seems. But really, I bet this happens at every movie. I just have awesome situational awareness and keen observation skills. Really, the next time you're out-and-about and not rushed, take your time and observe everything around you. Eavesdrop a bit, stare even. You'll be amazed how fucked up the world around you is.

The Importance of Being Idle

I know, I know, I didn't blog yesterday. I suck and I'm lazy and everything else you're thinking. I'm just finding Friday's so hard to write for. I need a designated theme so I don't have an excuse to not write.

So, for right now, you get pictures of my week. Pretend you enjoy it.

Sunday: I made chocolate chip cookies stuffed with Oreos. They didn't look pretty, but they were a chocolate orgasm in my mouth.

Monday: Hubby brought home a Beretta 96 40 S&W. I am a happy girl.

Tuesday: Rumsfeld has found a new chair to claim as his own. Little Bug has been pissed every time she finds him there. I expect a brawl any day now.

Wednesday: My loofah, wait for it, CUT ME. You know the rope part that is usually tied and glued to stay attached to the puff? Mine has a vendetta against my leg apparently. 

Thursday: Blond Sonja and those hooker hoop earrings. Next time I try to get her gut that is wrapped in XS Forever 21 tops. The Deputy didn't know I was snapping a pic, yet he's still looks like a creeper looking my way.

Friday: Little Bug spent most of the day cleaning her room. Big difference, huh?

Also, the Sun City forgot why it got its name and it rained.

I took Little Bug to the movies today. We saw Ice Age. It was blog worthy to say the least, but I'm going to refrain. We're watching the Olympics and since this only happens every four years, it gets priority.

See you Monday!

Nobody's Listening

I blew in this classroom like a whirlwind tonight. My hair is a curly wind-blown mess. I almost dropped my Starbuck's because a fat, jackass in an Army PT shirt wouldn't hold the door for me. I stubbed my toe on the same door because he let go of it as I was walking through and then he turned around and said "Watch out" followed by a laugh. I'm sorry did I screw you and never call again? Did I slap your mama? No? Then hold the door like a god damned gentleman. Then, Ms. Frizzle stops me in the hallway to tell me that she's going to need my help tonight to make sure everyone participates. "Maybe you could ask the other students questions?" she says. Maybe you could ask the students questions. It's what we pay you for!

I get in the actual room and am forced to this awkward tango with The Deputy as he is standing smack-dab in the middle of the door frame. I went left and then right and then just stopped, stepped back and said "After you." Except he didn't move. He just stood there blocking the door. When he finally realized I meant for him to pass through it so I could go in, he said "Oh, I was just standin'." Then, another 15 seconds passed and he said "Oh I guess I should move, ha ha ha." Yes, please, before I get arrested for assaulting a Peace Officer.

I'm not PMSing (okay, I probably am) but it feels like every person in this building was placed here to intentionally annoy me. As I sat down to set up my computer and get my shit together, Fat Alberto tells me "You okay, you know, because you look, que es eso, like frazzled." Fuck you fat ass. Suck a fat mother fucking dick you piece of shit. I look frazzled? You look like you ate out an entire Taco Bell and then rolled around in a pile of shit....is what I wanted to say. Instead, I smiled and said ever so sweetly "I'm fine. But thank you for your concern." Instead of shutting the fuck up, he added "Well yeah, because I notice these things, you know." I notice your abdomen has gotten larger since the last time I've seen you, but I'm not commenting on it. Fucker. Yeah, I am definitely PMSing.

I did a super quick scan of the reading material from this week, just in time to get handed our quiz. It was easy. I seriously read for nothing. I only left one question blank at the end, mainly because I didn't care. I'll still get full-credit. I don't think Ms. Frizzle even reads anything I write on mine, because I BS'd last weeks and got 100. If she really read it she would have found a few questionable answers.

While sitting here waiting for  the rest of these brainiacs to finish, I managed to knock out those four paragraphs and have a conversation with Katniss about the not-hotness of Magic Mike and the serious hotness of the guy in the new Step Up movie. Blond Sonja walked in (late, but we're used to that, right?) and from glancing at her test, she's got about 50% of the answers wrong. I'm not sure how she even writes with her long ass acrylic nails. They're a new style every week, but this week, they look longer. Longer than the time she had to have me open a box for her. Long, like "I can't wipe my own ass" long. I just snapped a pic of her and The Deputy. Uploading now...

We normally get from 6 to 6:30 for the quiz, but she gave the late-comers an extra 10 min. But we aren't starting right up, we're discussing the Colorado theater shooting. And of course, Ms. Frizzle thinks it's inappropriate to ask why there were children at the midnight showing. It's too soon to bring that up she said. Really? Because taking a 3-month-old to a midnight showing is a good idea? Get a baby-sitter, and if you can't get one, you don't go. Then we started up about the actual shooter. Though Fat Alberto's opinion was simply a twisted remake of mine (he literally said what I said but added you knows), Ms. Frizzle's was so wishy-washy it was ridiculous. Katniss and I were the most vocal and when she realized we knew what we were talking about, she switched to our side. Now she's reading us an op-ed from the Sun City Times Sunday paper. Her voice keeps fluctuating so I am only hearing half of it. From what I am hearing, it's a crappy op-ed at best. It's simply a series of questions about what could have been done differently. Someone got paid for that. I could have written that while drunk. I need to get a job with the Sun City Times.

We got into a discussion about the surge in firearm sales. I think she's scared of me now, because the look on her face while I explained weapons laws and where to fire and all that shiz was priceless. For a detective she seems pretty uncomfortable with weapons. She even said she leaves her gun at work when her shift is done. She said, "When I'm off work, I'm off work!" It may just have been beat into me over and over that a police officer is always on duty, even when they aren't, but even if I didn't think (or know) that, I wouldn't leave my gun at work. And you're still a cop if you're not on the clock.

We also discussed the case in Kentucky where a 17-year-old girl was sexually assaulted and the 2 boys who did it sent out photos of it happening to their friends. The boys copped a plea and their names ad the terms of the plea were to be kept private. Well, the girl tweeted their names (get it girl!) anyway and said she wasn't going to allow the boys her violated her to get away with it. She said the judge could hold her in contempt, to go ahead and lock her up. What a brave girl. I want to contribute to her legal defense. Seriously. Just because they're minors doesn't mean they aren't sex offenders. Their names SHOULD be public to protect the next girl. I hope that she doesn't face charges for this, but then again, if she does and is convicted, I can see this going to the Supreme Court. The rights of victims of sexual assault or rape shouldn't disappear just because the assaulters/rapists are minors. Fat Alberto added this gem "If they do find her guilty, you know, she's gonna get all violent towards mens." Katniss and I both looked at him and said "No. That's not what happens." Katniss said "There are millions of rape victims and they don't all turn violent." I simply added "What an idiot" but I'm not sure if he heard me.


Typhoid Maria and Fat Alberto are throwin' mad dirty looks in Katniss and I's direction. She caught me lookin' at her lookin' and then looked at Fat Alberto and shook her head in disgust. Hmmm, maybe she smelled him. I can't tell Katniss about it because she's sitting right next to them. We're talking about Repo Games and Operation Repo and Typhoid Maria keeps turning her head to whisper about us. Maybe she's telling him she's been on one of them. Shady bitch. To make matters worse, she is sucking on a lollipop like a true professional. Old people shouldn't so suggestive, it makes other people want to vomit. Also, Katniss just realized why Blond Sonja is named Blond Sonja. She thought it was because of RHONY, but once she understood it's because she looks like Sonja from Operation Repo, she LOL'd for some time.

We just had to do a Missouri and Washington Risk Assessment for two different offenders. Katniss and I got paired with Typhoid Maria, Fat Albeto, and the other guy in their team. He and I did the Missouri assessment for both and Katniss and the idiots did the Washington assessment for the two. No no no, I take that back. Katniss and I did them. The other three may think they contributed, but we knocked that shit out without their help. The other group STILL isn't done and I had time to walk all the way to the bathroom, pee, and come back. And type this paragraph.

The two offenders are the same two we had to choose to write our papers about. While discussing our assessments, Blond Sonja said "I just realized I did my homework wrong, I think. I didn't pick one, I made up my own." I looked at her and said "Can we kick her out of our group please?" She's laughing but I'm serious. The rest of the class is laughing too...at her.

We're being graded on the assessment and our answers, but all we really did was explain why the other group was wrong. The Deputy is adamant that the white girl (who killed someone) should go free and the black kid (who had a concealed weapon) should go to adult prison. Apparently, they are based on actual/fictional people. The chick is Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz and the way I see it (from the Wicked view-point) she was a murderer. The boy is based on Judge Mathis, who did turn his life around. BTW, I said the boy should get a second chance and the girl should get locked up BEFORE knowing what they were based on. I also said subconciously, they made the reverse decision based on the race and gender of each subject. They all got quite. Yeah, you're all a bunch of damn racists.

Almost quittin' time, so I'll be signing off. Sorry about my lack-o-blog yesterday. I wanted to write about the Colorado shooting but I can't muster the appropriate sensitivity yet. See you tomorrow.

No Church in the Wild

"The single greatest cause of atheism in the world today is Christians, who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, then walk out the door, and deny Him by their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable."                                                               

                -Brennan Manning

Without delving into my confusing and often chaotic religious upbringing, let's just say that I have good reason to abhor organized religion. I saw a bumper sticker that read "I've got nothing against God. It's his fan club I can't stand" and I completely agree. The hypocrisy and hatred that flows form the pulpit and the pews of most churches makes my blood boil. I know it isn't every church, but in my experience...it is.

Names have been changed of people and organizations.

When my family moved to El Paso in 2002, we struggled to find a church to call home. After two or three failed attempts to "belong", everyone had pretty much given up. I enjoyed the church-less family we had become. For once I felt like everything I did wasn't being judged and scrutinized by people who were more righteous (in their own minds). I probably went to far. Smoking, drinking, dating a boy who didn't deserve me and then some. I was ill-equipped to deal with my new found freedom of religious limitations. 

A few of my co-workers at a national coffee chain all attended the same church and were constantly pestering encouraging me to attend a bible study of sorts that they called Small Group. One night, after a particularly bad fight with Terrible Boyfriend, I decided to go. I wasn't going to play chauffeur to him and his loser friends, I was going to go to church. Bizarre logic, I know, but over the mountain I went in search of Intersection. 

Intersection was a church seed off of a bigger church on the same side of town. From what I had been told, the pastor, a man named Coral, had started the church as an outreach for youth in the troubled area. It was initially a coffee house out of a warehouse and a back-alley that served as an alternative to running the streets. It grew into a church and by the time I wandered into the same warehouse, it had been roughly ten years since it's conception. 

I immediately liked what I saw. A coffee bar to my right, tables and chairs next to it, an open sanctuary beyond that decorated with graffiti wall murals and mismatched chairs. It was everything the church of my upbringing was not. Even though I saw no one, I felt welcomed and comfortable. Then Gulp popped up. Gulp was a mid-20's hipster looking fellow. He had glasses and dark hair and scared the living shit out of me. "Hey," he said. "Are you looking for something?" I laughed off my initial shock and introduced myself. I explained that my coworkers had invited me as Gulp nodded and looked me over. I was immediately skeezed out as he stopped at my chest and his gaze didn't leave. 

Slowly, other Small Group members arrived and I began to feel more at ease. Erica, one of my co-workers, was there with her husband, the leader of the group, Ernie. Her BFF, also named Erica joined us and seemed friendly. They were excited I had come and quickly whisked em away from the lecherous paws of Gulp. Mal and Fanny were also there and were closer to my age. Mal was full of energy and an aspiring singer, while Fanny was a college student who had been going to Intersection since it's beginning. Fuzz, brother of Erica 2, was another longtime member of Intersection and good buddies with Gulp. It was a great night and I felt really renewed. It was possible to love God and not be surrounded by crazies.

Over the next few months, I began attending Intersection regularly and eventually my family joined. It was a far cry from anything we were used to. There was a 15 minute break between worship and the sermon to allow the smokers a quick cigarette. No. Lie. Pastor Coral would often stand outside and shoot the shit with us. One sermon in particular did it for me. Coral preached about the prodigal son. I thought "Wow, that was for me" and I was hooked. It was a judgement free zone. That should have been a red flag, but I liked when he would describe us as a "beer church." After all, I was a beer drinker. 

The more I immersed myself in the Intersections culture, the more I really thought I found a place I belonged. I could still drink and smoke and have too good of a time on Saturday night, but come Sunday morning, no one was judging me and there wasn't guilt like there would have been in the church(s) of my youth. I became pretty close with Fanny, we hung out all the time. She was more timid than most of my friends and I think she liked that I was her token wild friend. She never told me I should smoke or drink less, seemed to delight in my retelling of whatever guy I was currently seeing. Living vicariously through me was her favorite past time.

On Sunday, I really loved God. I felt His presence when I sang and praised Him. Over and over, Coral would tell us how grateful we should be for God's love, that He forgives anything. But no sermons on NOT acting in a way that would require forgiveness. Not that that's an excuse. I was raised to know better, I chose to go the other way. But Intersection made it okay for me to keep going. It was almost encouraged. 

And Gulp was ever present. He was a creeper, no doubt, but in my fragile state of religious confusion he picked and picked until he wormed his way into my life. Fanny and Fuzz were constantly making fun of him. His supposed friends, now laughing at his every pathetic attempt to hit on me, seeking out the gossip on Sunday morning, but hanging out with him as if they didn't just laugh at him. Fuzz was equally as creepy. I started playing poker with the group of Intersection guys and Fuzz dubbed me "9 to 5" as my poker nickname...yes, because of my rack. Real Christian like, huh? 

It got much worse. The Erica's, though older than the rest of us, were the biggest group of mean girls the religious world has seen. They were jealous of any pretty young thing that walked through the warehouse doors. They were passive aggressive and would start rumors, judge the other mothers in the church (Erica and Ernie were parents, not Erica 2), and anytime I would walk by them, the conversation would stop like they had just been talking about me. Rachelle, married to Shawn, was a frequent target of their cattiness. The things they said about her behind her back were horrendous. I remember one incident at a summer festival, a girl from another church was there who was gorgeous. She could have been a model. But Erica 1 noticed this too and treated her horribly. She made a big scene about the girl giving her dirty looks. Come to find out, the girl had shingles and her face was paralyzed in a half-scowl. I tried to explain this to Erica 1 but she continued treating her like a bitch. 

And then their was our Amish drummer, Joe. He always made me uncomfortable, and not just because Fanny was pinning away for him and he ignored her. He stood too close to you when he spoke to you. He looked through you as if you weren't worth of his time. His eyes were never right. I'll leave it at that.

Gulp got more brave. He started telling me that he and I getting together was God's plan for our life. Seriously. I thought "Isn't it funny that God is telling us different things?" He kept at it and any time I shunned his advances, he would tell me I needed to get closer to God. I, in-turn, got closer to a bottle and some cute Army guy because the more her tried to prophesy over my life the more I wanted away from the church. Instead of offering comfort or sound biblical advice, Fanny would just gossip about what I had told her. Gulp began spreading rumors about me as well. I finally had enough, and with the backing of my mother, went to Pastor Coral.

I told him everything. Yes, I probably led Gulp on a bit at first. It was funny and I was encouraged to do it by Fanny and Fuzz. I didn't like him that way and he had been told many times but he kept coming. I told him about his words from the lord about us being together, I told him about the times he would insinuate I was a godless whore because I went on a date with someone who was not him. I told him how alone I felt because it was cool for everyone else to hate Gulp, but if I did it, I was some trouble-making outsider. I cried as I sat across form Coral's desk for what seemed like forever. Coral took a deep breath and proceeded to tell me quite the tail about Gulp.

This wasn't the first time he had religiously strong-armed a girl. He had been warned about this on more than one occasion. He told me how sorry he was that this happened and if I had come to him sooner, he could have stopped it. It didn't comfort me. It infuriated me. Gulp was still in a position of leadership in this church and they knew of his predatory behavior towards females? What the holy heck? He assured me he would take care of it with confidence attached and I left. But what happened? I became the bad guy. Gulp started rumors that I showed up to church hungover, or would miss because I was too drunk. It spread to the other church too. I brought it up to Coral, but it didn't stop. There was always a smile to my face but whispers as I walked away.

I joined the Air Force in 2005 and before leaving I planned on one last "Fuck you all!" to my Intersections betrayers. I refrained because my mother and sister still attended. While I was away, serious shade was thrown in their direction as well. Baby Sis went on an Intense Camping Mission with Erica and Ernie, Erica 2, and a few other members of the youth ministry. Or should I say clinging to their youth ministry, since the only teens were Baby Sis and her not-Christian friend she brought along. The Erica's were vicious to them. Regina George had nothing on them. When she returned from the trip and told my mother all the shit they put her and her friend through (who BTW will never come to Jesus after that experience), my mother confronted Ernie about it. He made excuses for his wife and the other Erica, fell over his closeted self apologizing for their behavior, but he still allowed two grown-ass women who claim to be Christians to bully 14 year old girls. 

Upon my return to Sun City after the Air Force, I tried to rebuild my relationship with Fanny. She was dating Shawn because his wife Rachelle had left him for Amish Drummer Joe (great Christians right) but they all still attended Intersections. I thought maybe we could have a mature friendship but it was clear she wasn't interested in Tiffany the mother and wife when almost every conversation included her reminding me about how we used to go out and I was so wild. Can't party vicariously through someone who doesn't party anymore. And though I had grown-up from the girl that Intersections loved to pray for, she hadn't. Still going to the same church that never appreciated her musical talent, still kissing the Erica's collective asses, still making fun of Gulp, and yet prying me for any juicy details that might make her life a little better, a little more fun.

She'd always talk about the glory days of Intersection. It used to be so awesome, they could just come and be. There wasn't any drama, just kids loving Jesus and it was so powerful. It never felt like a real church with all these rules. But now Coral was talking about organization and tithes and being responsible. You know, shit the bible says you should do. It must have been hard for her to grasp the concept of change. Those teens came to Intersections. They graduated, went to college (okay, like 3 of them did), got married and had babies (though not always in that order), and with their change, the church changed. You can't have all night jam sessions while the babies sleep in the nursery. But Fanny didn't have those life changes so she had to cling to what Intersections used to be. 

With all the drinking and smoking they condoned, the cussing and the criminal activity that was discouraged but never corrected, I was shocked to find out their stance on homosexuality. You would have thought gay was okay, but Fanny explained to me that gay was a choice and we shouldn't support it. Shawn's sister Shana actually fought with me on FB about my pro-gay stance. She married a guy when she was 18 or 19 that everyone in the church hated. Even Coral couldn't stand him and his cult like family. They've got her locked up in a compound in New Mexico now (one girl, three men) and apparently, all she can do is rage on my FB. She deleted me and blocked me after going full-fledged psycho. Way to blow your witness. Shortly after, I deleted Fanny and Shawn from my FB when Fanny said that Hubby and I should meet her and Shawn for drinks. Like 2 minutes after her future sister-in-law lost her shit, I got the invite. Too shady for my liking. I imagined Shana waiting in the parking lot with a knife as I came out of the restaurant. No thank you.

I hear they expanded and have the storefront on the other side of the warehouse now. They've legitimized their "little back alley project." Coral still plays the part of the aloof/hippie pastor, Gulp still does worship. Ernie is still the youth pastor and his mean wife and her twin are still talking shit about everyone in site. Rachelle and Joe are now parents and married and Shawn was all but excommunicated from the church since you can forgive a cheater, as long as her ex-husband isn't around. Fanny is as wishy washy as ever, having bouts of Intersection devotion and hatred. The older people of the church, the ones who I actually enjoyed, have all moved on to other churches, choosing to have a significant relationship with God over regaining their youth. 

I remember telling Fanny that it would be so funny if I randomly showed up to church one Sunday morning with Hubby and Little Bug in tow just to see their faces and see how fake they would be to me. She said "You should! Rub how hot your hubby is in their faces and show off how cute and smart Little Bug is! Gulp would lose it! And Erica 1 and 2 would be so jealous." I laughed, but she was serious. Gay is bad, but doing that would be okay? I don't want that kind of shit in my life.

I still speak to a few Intersectioners, but they're people I had a connection with outside of Intersection or have since left the church. Some of them are just as jaded as me, some are the kindest people you will ever meet. They really do live a life of love and compassion, I would never lump them into the hypocritical Christian bunch. 

I guess my biggest beef with all of this should really lie with Coral. Wasn't this his flock to shepherd? Sure, we should be grateful that God forgives us, but we should also try to lead a life that doesn't require forgiveness in the first place. I don't miss the hellfire and brimstone sermons of my younger years, but I sure could have used some accountability. A lot of them could have. But I guess it's easier to be everyone's friend instead of moral compass.

I sound pretty bitter. I'm aware of that. Intersections isn't solely responsible for my disdain for organized religion, I'd say it's a 40-60 split with the churches of my youth. Those churches laid the groundwork but Intersections led to the total contamination of my soul. For those who love their church and live the life, good on ya, but I cannot ever go back to a church. I want no part of it. Not even the Methodists who love the gays, because I always have that fear that church politics and drama will be more important than God and his love.

Like the bumper sticker said, I've got nothing against God. It's his fan club I can't stand.

Not As Much As Football

I know it's time for my Monday Must Haves, but shit has gone down today that takes precedents. Here's a widget of stuff I like and think you should like too:


Now on to more pressing matters. We've all heard about the Penn State/Sandusky story, right? Jerry Sandusky molested and raped little boys through his Second Mile program and the university sat by and let these children be harmed. Very disgusting, very sad, they should all rot in jail. Sandusky has been convicted, other's have been fired, JoPa is dead...people are getting what they deserve. Today however, the NCAA handed down unprecedented punishments to the school.


Over the course of the next five years, Penn State will be on probation, are not allowed to go to any bowl games over the next four years, will lose 10 scholarships initially plus 10 more, and must pay $60 million in fines, the amount of revenue brought in by one football season. The money is to support "external programs preventing child sexual abuse or assisting victims and may not be used to fund such programs at the university" (NCAA). On top of all of that, all wins from 1998 to 2011 were vacated, taking JoPa from 409 wins (#1 on the list) to 298 wins (#12). Current and incoming players are allowed to move to any program of their choosing without penalty, and one incoming recruit has already chosen to do so. I suspect that more will make the move before the week is done.


The Paterno family released this statement regarding the sanctions:


The sanctions announced by the NCAA today defame the legacy and contributions of a great coach and educator without any input from our family or those who knew him best. That the president, the athletic director and the board of trustees accepted this unprecedented action by the NCAA without requiring a full due process hearing before the Committee on Infractions is an abdication of their responsibilities.


Bitter much? You're father/husband knew children were being harmed and didn't do a damn thing to stop it, so I'm pretty sure he defamed himself. I'm not a Penn State fan (HOOK 'EM) and I could care less about the legacy of JoPa. Remove his statue from the campus, take his name off of any wall or building or record, pretend it never happened all you want, but he cemented his own legacy when he made the choice to not go to the authorities regarding Sandusky. He, along with university officials, put football above everything else and this is the end result.


Here's where I get wishy-washy. What about the athletes and students who will now suffer because of this? Those players didn't do anything wrong. They didn't lie for a pedophile. They earned those scholarships and wins. I think Adam Taliaferro, former Penn State player who suffered a spinal cord injury in a 200 game, said it best when he tweeted:


NCAA says games didn't exist. I got the metal plate in my neck to prove it did..I almost died playing 4 PSU..punishment or healing?!? #WeAre


Vacating wins doesn't change the real outcome. It doesn't change that children were hurt either. What healing does that bring to the victims? 


USC had similar sanctions placed on them (minus the 60 million dollars) for players taking money and such from boosters. What exactly is the NCAA saying by doing the same to Penn State? Taking money from boosters is equal to covering up molesting kids? I'm still not quite sure why the NCAA has a say in any of this in the first place. CRIMINAL CHARGES should be filed on those involved before anyone thinks about sanctions. The NCAA will be appointing an athletic monitor to make sure the university stays in compliance with all sanctions. The DA should appoint a special investigator to make sure all of those responsible get locked the fuck up. 


I guess I just don't understand why a collegiate athletic governing body thinks they have the right to dictate what happens to people who had nothing to do with this. Aren't they supposed to be there to ensure players are treated fairly and look out for their well-being? 20 athletes who have earned a full-ride scholarship can't get a college education now. Revenue brought in by football will be lost and students could face higher tuition costs. The school is already preparing to shell out tens of millions of dollars in the soon to happen civil lawsuits as it is. While what happened is morally and ethically repugnant, it's also criminal and should be treated as such. It's easy to say that the students and players could go somewhere else for school, or that they're just collateral damage. I read one comment that said "That's what you get for going to a school that likes to rape kids"...seriously. But the whole school is not responsible for what happened and the whole school should not be punished. 


The actions of the NCAA are self-serving and pompous. "Look at how tough our new president can be everyone! We really showed them!" All they've really done is place punishment over fixing the problem. This athletic culture (which funds the NCAA!) hasn't gone anywhere, they'll just simply not get caught next time. Especially when child molestation and actual athletic violations get lumped into the same category.


I'll be discussing the Colorado theater shooting on Wednesday, Friday just seemed too soon, thus the reason for no blog.

Are You Happy Now?

For those of you who read Tuesday's blog, you are aware of my most recent grades. I was docked 1 point for participation and 1 point on my research paper, even though I am the only participant in class discussions and my paper was beyond flawless. I sent Ms. Frizzle this email regarding the scores:

Ma'am,


This message is in regards to my most recent scores for participation and my individual paper. 


First, the paper. You stated that the paper failed to cover the key participants of the diversion programs to your liking. I have reviewed the paper and am unable to see how this objective was not met. Could you please show/explain to me what I could have done differently? I would greatly appreciate it. Also, you made a few corrections to my spelling and grammar that I am not sure are correct. "It's" means "it is" or "it has" (what I was intending) but you changed 4 "it's" to "its" which is possessive. Also, you changed "corrections" to "corections". 


As for my participation in the class discussions, I was unaware that I was not participating to my fullest. With every discussion, I was the first and often times only student to participate. I am unsure how I could participate more than I already am without being a distraction. Is it because I have my laptop out? I use my laptop to take notes and I can assure you, I am still able to participate and take in what you're saying. If you would prefer, I can take my notes with a pen and paper, but this might actually cause me to participate less because I type faster than I write. 


If you do not wish to change my scores, I completely understand, that's your choice as the instructor. However, any feedback you might have so I can remedy whatever mistakes caused me to lose those points would be appreciated and applied.


Thank you for your time,
Tiffany


Good right? I didn't flat out call her a dumb ass and I didn't demand a grade change, but I made it clear that I am not just going to lie down and take it. But she didn't reply. Not to my email, not in my personal forum, nothing. And now I sit in class, staring at her as she sorts through the mess of papers in her bag and repeatedly fluffs up her tangled rat's nest hair. She smiled and said hello to all of us as she walked in and made eye-contact with everyone but me.

She just fired up the computer and is pulling up an article about George Zimmerman and his "God's plan" interview. Great, another class spent talking about shit that has nothing to do with our course curriculum. I think I shall make the best of this though. She wants me to participate more? She values my opinion? I'll participate more. I'll participate like no one has participated before. She's gonna value the hell out of my opinions tonight. I'm not sure which route to go with this. Should I crush her ego by making it abundantly clear that my intellect is far superior? Should I bluntly steer her back on course when she goes off on her tangents? I know I have to keep "Tiffany the destroyer" boxed tonight, can't have a suicidal teacher on my hands, but a few passive aggressive comments could be slipped into the mix coupled with this smile my momma paid for. Maniacal laugh, maniacal laugh.

We just took our quiz, which I actually studied for this time, and as I walked to the front to turn it in, Ms. Frizzle handed me back my quiz from last week and said "Hey, I was looking over my grades from last week and I think I messed up on your participation." "Oh, did you?" I said with a knowing smirk. "Yeah, I was looking and you should have gotten a 5, not a 4. I'm glad I caught that!" I walked back to my desk, seething. SHE CAUGHT THAT?! I emailed her, she wouldn't have caught that without me. Fine, whatever. I'll pretend you aren't grossly incompetent and you can pretend you're a good teacher. BTW, I got 100% on the quiz and looking over my answers, I can't help but wonder how? It's some good BS but it is still BS.

We're an hour in and have yet to make it past the third slide. We've been sidetracked by talk of juvenile runaways that Ms. Frizzle and Fat Alberto have encountered. Fat Alberto is not just a doctor and a security guard, he's an expert on juvenile runaways. I should have known we should defer to him. What was I thinking? They talked for so long and somehow segwayed to standardized testing in Texas. Inadequate education makes for an at-risk juvenile (along with other factors) and I totally agree. But why we had to hear everyone's personal experience with high-school exit exams, I am not sure.

Class started back up at 8 and no one in the class seemed to realize it because Doppelganger, The Deputy, and Piercy Paula carried on a discussion about their team assignment while Ms. Frizzle is talking about juvenile arrest statistics. But as soon as she said something about how juvenile are entitled to the same rights as adults, Doppelganger had to add her two cents about how she was such a tough mom and if her kids had gotten arrested, she would have told them they were on their own. It's the same shtick every. Single. Week. We get it, it was your way or the highway and look how great they turned out..yada yada yada.

Break! Break! Break! I interrupt the rant about Doppelganger to bring you Fat Alberto's latest bout of bullshit. Here it is, word for glorious word:

Can the cops just bust in your door if you're having a party and you don't answer the door. Cause my sister's son, my nephew, he told me that he was at a party and it was all kids and they didn't answer the door because they knew it was the cops. So the cops, they went to the windows and shot the pepper spray inside.

Me: Um, I call bull shit. If that happened, there would be some serious lawsuits going down.
Ms. Frizzle: When was this?
FA: Oh it was like, when my nephew was at a party.
Me: There's a thing called use of force and escalation of force and you can't just shoot cans of gas into someones home because they won't answer the door for a loud noise complaint.
FA: Yeah they did cause the kids were throwing up and stuff from all the smoke they did.
Me: Even the dumbest officer on the planet knows you can't do that. If that really happened, it would be on every news channel and those cops would have been arrested and their would be lawsuits against the department.
FA: Well I told my sister to do that thing, you know, a lawsuit, but she never did.
Katniss: Well that's not surprising.
Me: Yeah, there is no way that happened.
FA: Well that's what he said happened.
Me: Well he lied.

And to piggyback on that (!) Doppelganger started talking about how she let her children drive without a driver's license because she needed them to run her errands. Here's a woman who proudly bragged that if they got arrested they were on their own, now proudly bragging that she let them use her car from the age of 12 and on without a license. She said if they got caught, she would just say they stole it and they were on their own. But they never did get caught and she totally trusted them. Ms. Frizzle told her she was lucky there was a statute of limitations and Doppelganger just laughed. Because it's funny how terrible of a mother you are? They could have died or killed someone, and guess what honey, they wouldn't be on their own, you'd be fucked too. I take back any nice thing I've said about her.

It's almost quitting time. I'm thinking if I just keep encouraging Ms. Frizzle's tangents, we'll make it out of here without having covered anything the syllabus says. So far, the stuff we have viewed was the stuff we didn't cover last week. Doppelganger told another story about how her daughter wants to key a cop car because they freak her out. The more she talks about her kids, the more I think they aren't as well-adjusted as she thinks. If she thinks at all. Ms. Frizzle keeps having these long pauses where she reads from the power point and then will start talking. But of course they aren't really silent long pauses because Fat Alberto and Doppelganger see these moments as an opportunity to share their stories/one-up each other. It's like dueling banjos/bullshit.

I'm gonna call it a night folks. Gotta pack this shit up before she releases us so I can get the hell out of here. See you tomorrow.

Waiting on the World to Change

While I prefer the more grandiose titles of "Stay at Home Mother" and "Full-Time Student", the reality is this: I am unemployed. Isn't that the title placed on those who have sought out employment and have still cannot find any? Yes, I think it is. I am either not fluent enough in the Spanish language to get a job in the Sun City, or grossly over-qualified for the positions I am applying for. Needless to say, this leaves me plenty of time to keep up with world events and politics.

I am a registered republican, though towing the party line is not a strong suit of mine. I consider myself fiscally conservative and socially moderate to liberal. I don't care who you screw, God is whomever you want it to be, don't tell me what to do with my body. etc. Not the usual GOP stand point but I am not the religious right, nor do I appreciate their hijacking of the Republican party. I strive to be a Barry Goldwater Republican, a man who famously said "I think every good Christian ought to kick (Jerry) Falwell in the ass." Senator Goldwater had the good sense to know that the religious right had no place dictating to the rest of our country how we should live. If only our current party leaders thought the same.

If you're a Christian, good on ya. I do not believe in attacking you the way the far left has done. You have the right to believe gay is not the way, abortion should be illegal, and that prayer should be allowed in school. But I challenge you to examine the life you are living and decide if that life is what a Christian should be living? Are you a witness to your faith? Would someone look at you and see love and tolerance? Or would they see hypocritical behavior and condemnation? Until you're living your life to the perfection that's laid out in the Good Book, who are you to judge others?

The same tolerance Christians want others to show them, is not shown by most Christians. Jesus said love others as I have loved you. He didn't say don't love the gays, whores, junkies, and lefties because they don't think the same as you. What's the adage? Don't judge me because I sin differently than you. And riddle me this, how is gay marriage more damaging to the family unit than a 51% divorce rate amongst straight marriage? Hmmm.

Don't get me wrong, the far left is as bad as the religious right. The attacks on the morality of others are intense and extreme. Just go on Huffington Post sometime and look at the comments. Anyone who does not tow the liberal line is all but crucified. I personally have been called a whore, cunt, slut, tramp, racist, bigot, cum dumpster, baby killer all in one post because I had the nerve to say that I thought President Obama needed to take a tougher stance on immigration. My exact words were "As a citizen living in a border town, I would like to see President Obama take a tougher stance on immigration" in answer to a post about what people really want from our president. Clearly from my post I must be a "racist slut bag who sucks Bush's cock" and I need to get my "fat fucking kyke nose out of Obama's business, bitch." One man, who's profile listed him as a Democratic Strategist (in his mom's basement) said I better shut the fuck up before I get my throat slit. Classy, right?

What if these remarks were made by the far right toward a liberal woman? Outrage would flow from the keyboards of liberal blogger and pour into the mainstream media with a quickness. I reported the comments to FB and Huffington Post and nothing was done. The posts were not removed and I never got a response. I don't want to assume that it's because I disagree with the President, but one has to wonder. Liberal women are praised when they speak their mind, while conservative women are called names by the likes of Bill Maher and Keith Olbermann. President Obama called Sandra Fluke to apologize for Rush Limbaugh calling her a slut, but no call was made to Sarah Palin when Maher called her a cunt. I'm not defending what Limbaugh did, he's a pompous slob that doesn't speak for me, but how is what he did different from Maher?

President Obama said he apologized to show his daughters and all women that they should not be attacked or called names because they are being good citizens (presumably testifying before congress means being a good citizen). Does that mean Sarah Palin is not a good citizen and deserves to be called a cunt? I am not pro-Palin by any means, but because she is a conservative female who had the ass-galling nerve to have an opinion that doesn't lie up with the liberal left, she's been vilified and attacked over and over again.

Let's talk about attacks some more. If a person has the audacity to disagree with President Obama, that person is immediately labeled a racist. Don't like Obamacare? You might as well have called the man a n***** while wearing a Klan robe. Instead of accepting that people on both sides of the isle have a difference of opinion and fundamental beliefs, the left has vilified any person who disagrees with President Obama to the point that Republicans can't say anything without the racist label being attached. And Republicans have allowed their White Guilt to kick in and control the way they present themselves and express their opinions. I am not apologetic for being a Republican, nor will I be apologetic for being white. I don't have White Guilt, I didn't enslave or persecute or deny anyone's rights. Am I sorry that happened? Absolutely. But will I forever hang my head in shame for the sins of others? Nope. I'm not going to jump on the Obama bandwagon to avoid a label.

Why does it have to be so nasty? I know that that question seems ridiculous coming form me (shit, fuck, cunt, bitch, etc.), but really, isn't it that simple? If I don't agree with you about politics, do you really think I should die because of it? Am I a whore because I think birth control is a-OK? Should I get back in the kitchen instead of speaking my mind because I don't think Jesus is the only way? Do I really suck Bush's cock because I'm some brainwashed GOP cunt?

Think about it. Would you want some grown man talking to your daughter that way? Your mother? Your sister? Your wife? Be you left or right, can't you express your opinion without resorting to threats and vile names? Don't get me wrong, I love a good comeback, a witty retort. But "shut the fuck up before some one goes reverse Zimmerman on you" isn't witty. It's a death threat. Americans are up in arms about the bullying situation in our children's schools but we ignore the bullying that goes on between the adults. Where do you think they learn it from?

I realize that there may never be civility in politics. I realize both sides have the crazies. I know that Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck don't speak for me, just like I know Al Sharpton and Bill Maher don't speak for every liberal. But why don't other people seem to get that? Stop letting others speak for you and start speaking for your damn self. If more people would, there would be more civility in politics.

Just my two cents, take it or leave it, but I firmly believe everyone could use a little change.

Just Keep Swimming

My buddy S is back from her vacation and I couldn't be happier! I missed her and her family big time! She brought over her youngest today and we enjoyed some pool time. Little Bug was very happy to have her best friend back (S, not her little one...lol) and now she is napping sweetly next to me. Okay, she's flailing and doing these bizarre shudders but whatever. I get some blog time.

Today will not be a Time Warp. Today will be a full-blown rant. Ms. Frizzle posted my grades for the week and I am livid. I got 2 out of 2 on the quiz that I completely BS'd on (and didn't study for) and 1 out of 1 for team participation, but my individual paper and individual participation were docked 1 point each.

The paper's topic was on Juvenile Crime Causation and Diversion. Specifically, we were to compare two diversion programs in our city or state and answer a series of questions about each in the form of a research paper. I nailed that shit. I ran it through the systems the university provides (plagiarism checker,  grammar, and writing excellence) and all came back with A+ results. I may write this blog in the tone of "an urban liberal" (thanks PolitiJim) but I write a mean research paper/essay. And I have never gotten anything less than full credit on a paper that I didn't half-ass. Even on the one's I have half-assed got either full credit or only one point deducted.

Until this week. 9 out of 10 on a paper that I can confidently say I hit out of the park. I had references from our text book, the State of Texas Juvenile Justice Department, and even an analysis of the state's recent financial support of local diversion programs. It was top quality work. But Ms. Frizzle (who stated she doesn't care about grammar and is usually wrong about it in week one) marked me down for corrections that she deemed appropriate. Like the spelling of "corrections" which she feels only has one R. Yep. She also added this at the bottom:

          "Abstract included, thank you. Paper is well written, but it lacks some details required by the assignment. Key participants of each program are not well discussed. Other objectives required by this paper  are observed in your paper. Continue to challenge yourself on your assignments. 9/10"

The key participants are juveniles who are placed in diversion programs instead of being committed to the state. That's what the whole paper is about. How is that not clear? I even delved into how one program was for juveniles who are being given a last chance before adult jail and the other focuses on juveniles with substance abuse problems and mental health issues. Those are the key participants, so how is that not covered? And challenging myself? Isn't it her job to challenge me? She's not doing a very good job because I wrote that paper in less than 2 hours and still got a 9. Not exactly a challenge.

Fine. Whatever. I can suck it up and take my 9. What I cannot take is the 4 out of 5 for participation. Here's what she had to say:

"Thank you for your attendance. I challenge you to become more involved in class discussions. Value your opinion. Verbal skills are essential in the criminal justice field."

Without me, there wouldn't be a class discussion. Juarez Teenager Female and Blond Sonja don't speak, neither does Fat Alberto's other team member. Seriously, not one word. Typhoid Maria says maybe 3 words and Fat Alberto and the other team only speak to piggy back on what I say. Without me (and Katniss) the entire class would sit in silence as Ms. Frizzle rambled on and on about her Prius, her children, or how she's about to retire. My verbal skills are a lot like my written communication skills...on point and bad ass. 

I know, I know. Defensive much? But here's the thing, this woman has the worst verbal communication skills of any instructor I have had. Worse than J-JO and his attempts at stand-up comedy. She has yet to speak a sentence that comes from a completely formed thought and we haven't covered even 1/5 of the course material because of her babbling. But I need to participate more. She needs to seriously examine her teaching and grading methods because girlfriend is whack. 

It's only 2 points. I need to let it go. So I'll get a 98/100. Most people would be very satisfied about that grade. I think I would be satisfied with it as well, if it was the grade I had earned. I deserve full credit for both. I deserve an instructor who knows the difference between "It's" and "Its" and how to spell "corrections" but right now I'll settle for full-credit. I'll be drafting a well written email to Ms. Frizzle and I'll let you all know how that went come Thursday.

See you tomorrow for What in the World?! Wednesday.