What Are You Afraid Of?

Scared quote

Yes, it’s been a very long time since my last post. I’m busy, I’m obsessive-compulsive, I write tons of blogs in my head but never type them out, yadda yadda yadda…..here we are. I had a tiny bit of an AH-HA moment today (no, I haven’t been watching old Oprah Winfrey episodes or Mutual of Omaha commercials) and figured it was worth a little blog-a-roo.

First, let me tell you a little bit about how roller derby has been going. I’ve been skating for over a year now and have FINALLY passed some massive milestones. My entire level 2 checkoff list is complete which means I can not only start going to team practices, but I can join in on Thursday night scrimmages. That’s right, shipmates…..ACTUAL derby. Like with refs and whistles and a scoreboard and everything! And frankly, while that was an exciting and rewarding accomplishment, it was also terrifying. The move up meant that YET AGAIN, I was out of my comfort zone and even more importantly, skill set. I swallowed what tiny sliver of pride I had managed to build up and started going to embarrass myself in a whole new way.

I’ve now been to several team practices and four scrimmages. While I know for certain I’m the worst one on the track, I’ve left them feeling like I’m learning and growing, reaching for the stars and all the stuff inspirational posters are made of. That was until last night.

I don’t know what the problem was exactly. Perhaps I was tired after several weeks of double (fine, sometimes triple) workout days. I’m overweight again and it’s bugging me on every imaginable level. Maybe it was just an off night for me, or a great night for the opposing team. My head knew what to tell my feet to do, but they just wouldn’t comply. Jammers -even my new nemesis (future blog material) who is normally ultraslow and clumsy, blew past me like I was standing still. When I went in with the star on my helmet, I absolutely could NOT get through that damned pack. Again, up against my big, clompy, now blocking enemy – there was no juking around her. I wanted to, I KNOW that I CAN, signals were sent from brain to skates, but they were brutally rebuffed. My last attempt  to jam was painful in every way possible. I got hit SO HARD, over and over.  Skull jarring hit out of bounds, skate back to avoid cutting and re-enter, rinse lather repeat. It hurt both my body and my mind. I’m not going to sugar coat it…I came off the track holding back hot, frustrated tears.

My team for the evening came and tried a pep-talk, and while it was greatly appreciated, the compliments rolled off me like so many salty drops. I thanked everyone as much as I could without breaking down, escaped to my car in the parking lot and just sobbed. What was wrong with me?  Was I never going to get everything? Am I just fooling myself to think I’m cut out for all of this? And on and on and on. Finally, I told myself, “You are a 35 year old woman who is sitting in her car alone, crying about a GAME that you pay to play. Suck it up cupcake.” Surprisingly, that didn’t help.

Today, after a heavy lifting morning and a 4 mile run in the late afternoon, I was in the shower trying to wash off the scrimmage number (and shame) from my shoulder. Ironic because last night I was so sweaty, I was asked by the refs to reapply my sharpie 3 times.  Today after a bath this morning and post-fartlik shower – it’s still there. Anyway, I’m scrubbing hard and realize that my shoulders hurt. And my back. Even my neck meat. It occurred to me that I truly took a beating last night in every possible way.

My thought process went rapid fire (because that’s the best way to get honest answers from myself, see) like this:

“You have embarrassed yourself in front of everyone in the derby community you know, in every scenario. There have been hits so hard that they shook your vision and you heard things in your body pop. Last week while jamming, a fellow derby girl almost knocked you from the track into the bleachers – had you not decided to ungracefully take a knee just shy of the metal. You have fallen in every position imaginable, had bruises in places not appropriate to blog about, and should own stock in Tylenol PM.   So what is it exactly you are afraid of??”

Somewhere from deep in my subconscious, the answer hit me harder than any blocker ever has and instantly my eyes welled up.

“Failure.”

I am terrified of failure. Not succeeding. Disappointing people. Embarrassing myself for nothing. Every time I hit the track and don’t do well, I’m sure all the coaches and team skaters who have given me their time and effort to make me better are ashamed of me. That I’ve let everyone down. That I’ll never make a team and my family will resent all the time I wasted trying. That I’m not enough. And won’t ever be.

Any armchair psychiatrist will point out that this is not just relegated to roller derby.  This is, and has been, a theme my whole life.  It’s worse as an adult because responsibilities are greater and more difficult.  I joined the derby to help me with my self confidence…so why am I just adding it to the list of things I feel I’m failing at?

Alright lambs. I’ve identified the fear that is holding me back in the derby (and life?). I hear that’s step one. Ah-HA!!

Now what?

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A Very Telling Google Search

Just a quick glimpse into my day for you.  I just googled the phrase, “do kids wear patches on their knees anymore.”

 

 

From this one little search, you (because you’re clever!) can gather several things about me.  First, I’m so old and out of touch that I turn to the googles for help with my 6 -year-olds pants problems.  Second, I’m obviously too cheap and lazy to go buy him more new jeans.  And lastly, if you are very intuitive, you will understand that because my kid has put holes in all his favorite school pants, we now have to resort to wearing the ones he hates (for no reason he can articulate).  That means tears and fighting in the morning.  Great powers of deduction, you!

By the way, the first link that came up from that inquiry was quite helpful for this unhip mother.   The third directed me to an article about lazy eyes.  Fifth one on the list – honest to goodness – was titled:

What is Child Abuse and How to Spot it 

 

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For my clumsy, persnickety pants picking middle child, his abuse is coming in the form of an iron on semi-truck patch.  Because not only am I lazy, broke, and out of touch with youths, but I also don’t sew.  I hope he doesn’t know the number to DHS.

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Filed under humor, Musings, Parenting

Trying to Keep a Sense of Humor at Fake Disneyland – AKA the ENT’s Office

For starters, you wouldn’t believe all the pictures available in Google Images for sinus infections.  You’re welcome for choosing one this benign.  And educational.  If you haven’t had to suffer through chronic issues, and therefore are unfamiliar with exactly how they are all connected, consider yourself lucky.  I, on the other hand, have had about 14 of these in the last couple years after 2 surgeries attempting to fix the problem.  Needless to say, they know me very well down at the old Ear, Nose & Throat clinic.
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Even though I hate going there because it means I’m desperately sick and about to be loaded down with antibiotics, steroids and whatever else they want to try this time, I try to keep a sense of humor about it.  I knew this was going to be an amazing visit as soon as I sat down in the waiting room, which was empty except for a cute little girl – probably about 3 or 4 – playing around and talking with her mom. When they called her name, she jumped out of her chair and yelled, “Yay! Am I going to Disney Land?”  I couldn’t help it, I snorted.  Her mom looked at me with a mixed expression of “I don’t know where that came from,”  and “Heaven help me.”  A face I know well, because I pull it myself.  A lot.  That poor little lamb obviously had never been here before and had no idea what was about to happen to her.  I wish I could have shared some sinus humor tips with her, but she’s probably still got time to work on her own approach.  I also briefly wondered if I looked something like this in my chair:

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When the nurse called me about a minute later, it took EVERYTHING in my power to not also ask if I was going to The Happiest Place on Earth.  Since she hadn’t heard little missy and I hadn’t met her before, I didn’t know if we were going to be friends yet.  So I restrained myself.  When (let’s call her Mary) told me to go ahead and get on the scales, I decided we were NOT buddies.  But then she offered to hold my purse and coat and anything else I didn’t want weighed and I reconsidered my stance.  On our walk into the exam room, I heard the same little girl yelling something else and had to tell Mary about what she said before going in.  Mary had opened their symptom checklist on her computer and starting filling out the different fields when she cracked up and then said, “Oh, that was so cute, I totally forgot what your weight was.”  Friendship sealed.  And that’s when I decided to have a little fun with the rest of the appointment.

Mary:  Low grade fever, headache, nasty drainage – just feeling miserable, huh?

Me:  Yeah, the usual.

Mary:  Well, if it makes you feel any better, you don’t LOOK like you’re feeling poorly.  You should see some of the people who come in here with these symptoms.

Me:  I figured it had been a few days since I had showered last, so it’s your lucky day.

Mary:  Does your face hurt?

Me:  Why, let me guess – is it killing you?  I thought only my dad told that joke.  But now that you’re asking, yes.  It’s hurts.  From my forehead, to my ears and down into my molars.

Mary:  You poor thing, I’m so sorry.  Are you…irritable?

Me:  No!  No, dammit!  Why??  Did my husband tell you to ask me that?  I guess it’s probably a good thing my kids aren’t here to answer that.  Fine, yes.  A little.

She took my jokes in the spirit that they were intended, apologized for having to spray the nasty numbing gunk in my nose but guaranteed the Dr. would “wanna get a look up there.”  I made a mental note to hope to see Mary on my next visit.  Which will probably be in a month or two.  Hopefully I’ll have some new material by then.  P.S.  When she sprayed the left side, some of it came out of my left eye.  Yup.

I adore my Dr.  I wish for the sake of my story that I could liken him to like Mickey or Donald, but I can’t.  Sorry, toots.  I like that he always comments when he walks in the room that I’m “still smiling!”  Since I usually can’t feel my face by that point, I just take his word for it.  And he acts enthusiastic about the prospect of looking up my schnoz and vacuuming out the contents of my angry, nasty cavities.  Once he even told me I had amazing inner sinus beauty.  I bet he says that to all his post-op patients.  Anyway, he really got all up in there and was muttering things like, “hmmm,”  “that’s not what I expected to see,”  “oh, there it is…wait no,” and other super technical doctor stuff.  It felt like he was sucking my brain out through a teenie, tiny straw and eventually I could take no more.  “I’m either going to puke or pass out!”  I managed to choke out.  Having blacked out with zero warning in his office when he tried to flush my sinuses once, he took my seriously and immediately reclined my chair.  That kind of counts as a ride, right?  Maybe that wee lass knew what she was talking about after all.

I wonder what kind of procedure that sweet girl had to have.  Whatever it was, I’m willing to bet she won’t be asking to go back to Disneyland anytime soon.  And neither will I.  Oh, and if you have a little time on your hands, why don’t you go ahead a check out images for sinus infections.  

Sick-MickeyI just wish I could have found one of Mickey using a Netty Pot.

 

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Filed under humor, Musings

A Grocery Store Dare For You

(My daughter as a wee one, trying to escape from her mother’s grocery shopping madness and seeking solace, or attempting to nurse, on her brother’s shoulder.)
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Do you know who I am?  I’m the woman in the sweaty gym clothes, pushing her toddler in a grocery cart around Walmart, picking up every item in the food section, reading the labels, mumbling incoherently and putting everything back on the shelf a little harder than necessary.  I’m the woman blocking you from the dairy case, your favorite sandwich side section, and whatever you want to wrap your burrito up inside.  That’s who the hell I am.  And if you’d like to join me in my shopping frustration, walk a mile in my gym shoes, and just try my challenge for 3 items.  Just three.  Even if you don’t purchase these things – next time you are anywhere that isn’t a “health food store” – do this.    Maybe then when you see me, you’ll forgive me for being in your way.  And for how I smell.  And look.  I just came from the gym, see.

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I’m not going to get all conspiracy theory on you.  Nor am I going to pretend to be a scientist, though I think I would enjoy wearing a lab coat a great deal.  What I am going to ask you is – what do you know about Yellow #5?  Polysorbate 80?  No opening another tab to google them, either.  Just right off the top of your head.  Maybe you heard a rumor.  Or read something on Wikipedia about causing shrinking man-hood. (You think I didn’t see you read that?)  Again, I’m not saying Yellow #5 causes cancer.  I’m also not telling you it doesn’t.  What I am emphatically stating is harmless or fatal – THERE IS NO NEED FOR THIS COLORING IN MY PICKLES.

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I’m sadly not being paid to endorse any products here.   Contract or no, I will not bow to any sponsor.  I can’t talk about it anymore;  it’s giving me a headache.  This is where Garth would hand me some pills, if you are following my Wayne’s World reference here.   Ah, Nuprin. Little. Yellow. Different.  Probably colored with Yellow #5, so thank you no.  No.  I just want you to know that when I tell you Farmer’s Garden pickles are great, I’ll receive zero compensation.   Though they could pay in pickles since they are expensive as all get out (not as bad at Walmart compared with other places I’ve seen them) for the amount in the jar.  Totally worth it if you are looking for a tasty product with zero unnecessary ingredients.  Plus, if you are using them to chop up for your tuna, you can use all the delicious extra veggies that are in the jar.  Do you know how big the pickle section is and how many choices you have?  I DARE you to read some labels and find any other brand that doesn’t contain something questionable.

Yogurt - 

I find yogurt so aggravating that some days I purposely avoid that part of the store.  My daughter LOVES the stuff – well, all my kiddos do actually – so when she sees it, she wants it.  The problem is that most of the brands and flavors they like are either loaded with sugar, or else artificial sweeteners, artificial flavors, and/or freshness preservatives….or all of the above.  Why can’t I find a vanilla yogurt without these things?  I know, I know, I’m shopping at Walmart.  But I’m on a budget and can’t always make another stop or take out a second mortgage to go to a health food store.  (If I were only shopping for these 3 things, I would make a special trip.  Can a family of 5 live off all natural & organic pickles, yogurt and tortillas?  We probably could…..want to come over for dinner?)  So how about it, huge corporations that have access to eversomany products.  Please?

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Tortillas - 

Did you know that if you were to make your own at home, there would be 4 ingredients:  Flour, Salt, Water, Oil.  If you really wanted to get fancy, you could add baking powder.  Ex-squeeze me? Baking powder?  That is correct.  I am a stay at home mom who enjoys cooking most of the time.  The majority of my days, I’m lucky to have time to take a shower, let alone throw together taco ingredients AND make my own tortillas.  My family loves crunchy shells (as well as a bathed mother) and the most inoffensive brand I can find is Old El Paso.  Want to know something funny?  The box lists the ingredients as: Limed Corn, Palm Oil, Salt & tbhq.  Upon further review, it might actually be - Limed Corn, Vegetable Oil Blend (Palm Oil, Contains One Or More Of The Following: Corn Oil, Partially Hydrogenated [Corn Or Soybean Oil]), Salt, Tbhq.

I have no idea what tbhq is and should probably look it up.  I’m not going to do that right now, because I’m too mad about having partially hydrogenated oil that I was blissfully unaware of.  This is what I’m talking about, people.  What are we eating?  At least they are slightly better than this:

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I DARE  you to find a tortilla with better ingredients on the shelf.

Do you see what I’m saying?  Can you now imagine how hard my entire shopping trip is on me….and my fellow shoppers?   Not to mention my poor daughter who has heard me lament, “Is it too much to ask to find (insert ANY item here) with no (insert whatever thing I’m mad at here) added!?!”  Usually that would be sugar, but I am saving my full rant on that sweet subject for it’s very own blog.  I’m sure sugar is as excited as you are.    Pardon me – do you have any Grey Poupon?  Read the label to find out why I don’t.

Companies I’m calling out, please don’t sue me.  I’m between lawyers right now. You see, my first lawyer screwed my affairs so badly.  (Mike Myers  & Dana Carvey, I love you so much.)  I’m just begging you to please contimplate making a healthier product.  Daring you even.

You, dear reader, I’m challenging you start reading labels.  Pay attention to what you’re putting in your body and feeding your children.  If there is an ingredient that you don’t know what it is (or can’t pronounce) go ahead and look it up.  Do some research.  You’re almost done here and then you can switch back to your Yellow # 5 Wikipedia tab and read away. I triple dog dare you.

Farmer’s Garden - I’ll be waiting for my box from you to arrive soon.  If it’s a severed head, I’m going to be very upset.

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Filed under Fitness, humor, Nutrition, Product Review

Tiny Parenting Victories

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Being a parent is hard.  It just is.  No matter what your situation or how your family is built, you are certainly facing challenges.  My oldest son was talking about his 2 year old step-niece being a brat the other day and had the preteen audacity to say, “Her parents are doing a horrible job.”  Obviously there’s a lot of back-story here that I’m not going to get fully in to, but I had to address his comment immediately.  “First of all, honey, I know that you are just repeating something you heard, but you still need to know something.  Being a parent….it’s really, really hard.  And everyone has opinions about whether you’re doing something right or wrong.  But please…PLEASE don’t ever say that someone who is trying hard is a BAD parent.  That is one of the most hurtful and insulting things you could ever call a person.”  He nodded like he understood, but of course he didn’t.  And he won’t.  Not until he has kids of his own and feel the pressure to be the perfect parent.

I am constantly keeping score on my mental “Mom Card” each day:

Made a healthy breakfast for all 3 kids = +1

Only had stale bread for lunch sandwiches = -1

Made sure middle son was wearing a coat in the snow = +1 …but he left the house in tears because he hates outerwear = -2

Got dinner in the crockpot so we could eat a healthy meal after basketball but before Boy Scouts = +3 ….but only 2 of the kids liked what I made and one went to bed early for a bad attitude = -2

Made it to the gym, Costco, and got everything put away before lunch = +10 ….but didn’t get the little one down for her nap early enough, so we only had time for 1 book and I had to wake her up too soon to get to the basketball game in time and now she’s crabby…and probably won’t like what I made for dinner = – 203

And so on, and so on.

Then there’s the comparisons to other parents.  I thought I was doing well with the little notes I was scribbling on the kids sandwich bags (the rock-hard bread makes it easy to write on).  Then I saw this - http://distractify.com/default-category/dad-makes-art-on-sandwich-bags-with-sharpies/ – and realized how much better other people were doing it.  I can barely read my own writing, let alone incorporate the bread holes into a Picasso replica.  Also, when I asked my middle kid if he was enjoying my little daily affirmations, he had no idea that I’d been doing it.  Sigh.  -5 (Not just for being grossly outdone, see…but for raising an unobservant child.)

So today, I decided to write about something I found that made me feel like a good mom, if only for a moment.  A rarity that needed to be captured.  For Valentine’s Day, I wasn’t sure what to do for my kiddos.  I’m getting super tired of little gifts that I buy just for the sake of giving them SOMEthing, that just end up going to Goodwill, the landfill, or clogging up my vacuum.  I hate %99 of all the crappy, sugar and artificial color candy out there and knew they’d come home from school with enough of that anyway.  Then I remembered the project I intended to do for them at Christmas time, but didn’t get around to…and yes, I beat myself up about that, too.

I had bought some large picture frames at Ross that weren’t very expensive but were nice and plain.  I found some scrapbooking supplies that reminded me of each kiddo.  Soccer for the boys, music for the oldest, legos and tractors for the middle and butterflies for the littlest.  I decorated each one with their names (the blurred out part) and then printed on coordinating paper “We Love You Because….” and put that where the picture would go.  Then I got them some dry erase markers and the gift was complete.  Inexpensive, from the heart, and with a purpose.IMG_8617 - Version 2

(It should be noted that I started making these at 9:15 the night before Valentine’s Day.  I finished at 1:30am.  For those keeping score, I awarded myself points for dedication, but still ended up in the negatives for such incredible procrastination.)

The kids really liked them.  In fact, they came home from school, grabbed the markers and spent about an hour coloring on them together.  Total bonus score – I didn’t see that coming.  Really, my goal was to make a point of writing a message to them every night.  Well, then my oldest son went to his dad’s for the weekend, and the littles didn’t pay much mind to checking them in the morning, and there was a holiday, so I didn’t do it.  Yup, I was off to a great start. – 32

Then last night, everything fell into place.  The kids went to bed so nicely and everyone, including my husband, was asleep by 9:30.  Laying on the floor in front of me (on the dirty carpet -8, next to the scattered kids books -4 and a dirty pair of little socks -2) were the boards and markers.  I sat looking at each one and smiling, ignoring the mess.  It took me a long time to come up with something to scribble down, not because of any kind of writers block….but I had SO MANY GOOD THINGS I wanted to say to them.  Finally, I committed ink to glass and put their boards where they would find them in the morning (not hung up in their rooms yet -1).  I cleaned up the living room and went to bed feeling….content.

That one simple thing made me realize…I’m doing okay.  I’m doing the very best I can.  I love my kids more than anything and I do my best to show that to them everyday in lots of different ways.  Some they will notice, and know to look for (like on the wall, where I eventually hang their gifts).  Other gestures will probably dawn on them later in life.  There are going to be days where my best attempts fail.  There will be days that I probably don’t even make the all attempts I should have.  I know for certain there will be times I forget, or fall asleep and their boards will be blank.  They know I adore them anyway – and that’s what is really important.  Even if I didn’t recreate a masterpiece (how does he DO that!) in their lunches.  Or I forced them into a jacket and made a dinner they didn’t enjoy.

They will always know how loved they are.  +1000

 

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Facebook – After The Storm – Literally

In my last confession, I mentioned how we got a huge arctic blast that pretty much shut down normal life around here.  You know what happens on Facebook whenever something like that occurs, right?  It blows the F up.  Boom!  And if you’re not careful, you might find yourself….how should I put this….unreasonably angry with FB shrapnel.  Like wishing-it-would-stop-snowing-soley-so-you-could-hunt-some-people-down angry.  It was not good for my blood pressure, or attempts at trying to remain a kindhearted person.  But it provided so much blog fodder (blog-fod, as I just right this second decided I like to call it) that I just can’t stay mad at all the freaking idiotic things I saw.  Wait, yes I can.  In the interest of attempting to not be a total raving lunatic though, I’m going to shape this as more of a public service announcement than a tirade.  That way, if you’re doing these things – or are friends with someone who is – you can gently suggest they read and heed BEFORE you get or give a bitch-slap.  You’re so very welcome.
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Once again, I am fully aware that Facebook is optional.  I also know there are several, non-blogging related ways to handle the people in my feed that constantly trample on my last nerve.  Those aren’t as much fun as this is, I guess.  Please proceed.

I’m going to start with the good, because I’m like the Unicorn-Kitty in the Lego Movie.  Haven’t seen it yet?  That’s okay, move on.  Here are things that I enjoyed seeing in my feed – even if everyone was doing it and that would normally really bother me:

Road Conditions – chains required, accidents, hazardous locations.  Very helpful!

Snow Pictures – including, but not limited to – your kids, your pets, cups of steaming hot cocoa, beautiful white (because of the snow, not racism) front and backyards, and the ever popular ruler in the snow.  So much fun!

School Closures – just the simple facts – delayed, shutting down early, closed.  Thank you for the intel!

Funny or Clever Memes – a fine example is the Oprah one above.  Oh, how I laughed!

Pictures From People In Tropic Climates, Tagging Oregon Friends - Well played, Hawaii dwellers.  We said you’d miss the “seasons” when you moved away.   We were wrong.

And now here are a few of the things that made me want to throat punch some folks:

Complaining About EVERYthing – I have too much snow!  I don’t have any snow!  I have places to go!  The snow is so cold!  The best were the people bitching about school decisions.  One district cancelled before they got snow.  OH, how the parents posted about the stupidity of officials!  (However, I saw no apologies later when the storm hit full force and the kids were already home safe and sound.)  One district had already closed a bunch of days earlier in December and were clearly trying to avoid tacking on more days during our precious summer vacation.  They instead decided about 5 minutes before school started to cancel – turning busses back around, calling parents to come get kids.  Super annoying and inconvenient, I totally get that.  What made me snap was one of my “friends” posting how all parents should call and complain to the district about their poor decision making skills.  Because I’m sure that in the midst of all the commotion, that’s EXACTLY what school officials needed.  I’m positive they didn’t realize what a big blunder they made and needed to hear it from hundreds of angry parents.  Damned if they did, damned if they didn’t.  Wa Whaaaaa!

Quizes – I know we all had a lot of time on our hands.  Precious hours some of us (obviously, myself included) spent curled up with social media.  But are we so desperate to kill time that we need to know what character/singer song-writer from what show/era we would be?  Oh, and be sure to add something in your comments like, “Yes, this seems super accurate” or, “I don’t think so.”  Better yet, just throw out, “Agreed!”  Each test is more ridiculous and pointless than the last.  What decade do you belong in?  What color is your aura?  What Big Bang Theory person would you be?  Or Breaking Bad.  Or How I Met Your Mother – are you a Ted or a Barney?  Answer:  You’re a douche.  Though you probably aren’t, so please stop doing these pointless wastes of time, OR just stop posting your results.  I think the post that finally sent me over the edge was, “Haha I don’t even know what “walking dead” is!”  Sigh.

Secret Statuses – I don’t care what color your bra is.  Or if you have a foot fungus.  If you tell me you’re moving to (insert location) in (insert number of days) just because you got a group message telling you to, I’m going to hope you’re going somewhere hot, with pitchforks and eternal damnation.  Permanently.  Okay, fine – I don’t actually want you to go to hell…just stop the unnecessaryness, if that were a word, of these posts.  You want the one that finally did me in?  “Why is nobody around when I’m horny?”  Posted by someone that I never, never, never, NEVER need to associate with…that word.  I believe Grandpa Simpson said it best in the episode called Bart the General, “The following is a list of words I never want to hear on television (insert Facebook) again. Number one: Bra. Number two: Horny. Number three: Family Jewels.”  I’m actually not opposed to the use of “family jewels,” a big fan, actually.  But I love that quote too much to not provide the entirety.   Hmmm…I wonder which Simpson I would be if I were indeed a Simpson.  If only there was a way to find out AND make sure all my friends knew the fascinating results…

Horrible Memes - 

Memes can be terrible for lots of reasons.  Over-stauration, for one.  Like it made me laugh the first 38 times, but now that horse you’re beating is dead, sir.  Sometimes they are just unfunny to begin with.  By now, you’re probably wondering which of the millions out there inspired this category and I won’t disappoint you by holding back:

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There are SO MANY REASONS to hate this one….and they have nothing to do with Justin Bieber.  First, if you’re going to create and circulate this kind of garbage, the least you could do is spell-check.  Second, the photoshop job is….lacking.  Let’s just be honest.  And finally – the blatant lie.  To imply that any celebrity gives two (diapered) shits about your poorly crafted Photoshop reject is giving yourself a (diapered) shit-ton of undeserved credit.    Just for (diapered) shits and giggles, could we please, PLEASE not encourage this by re-posting nonsense?  Personally, I have zero opinion of the Biebs.  His existence has absolutely no effect on my life.  If he did, though, certainly I could craft a strongly worded status update expressing that opinion as my own.  I’d use spell check and everything.  Share the hell out of THAT.

Once again we have only scratched the surface of my ever mounting Facebook frustration, but I feel much better.  I hope I’ve helped.  Oh wait, more – stop sending me game requests and research your outlandish “News Stories” before you post them.  Don’t send me “re-post or you’ll die a horrible death in the next 3 minutes” forwards or anything that crams your religious beliefs down my throat.  Those are just no brainers, people.

Finally, a few quick tips to close with:

Stop using “feels” inappropriately.

NO – “Watching the Olympics gives me so many feels.”

Yes – “Why is our daughter crying – did someone spank her in the feelings?”

Stop misusing “literally.”

NO – “There is so much snow, I literally have it coming out the wazoo.” (Though I applause your use of wazoo.)

Yes – “When you constantly use that word improperly, I LITERALLY want to push you down hard enough that when you stand up, snow will LITERALLY come out of your wazoo.”

Stop saying, “Oh, and this happened.”  I’m really too tired to expound any further, just take a minute, use your words and describe “this.”

Next time they predict another storm of this magnitude, I think locking my laptop away would be a good idea.  It will be hard to know what’s happening in the world around me without everyone’s constant, helpful updates, but I think it would be best for everyone involved if I just watched the news.  Or looked out the window.

That way, everyone wins.  I keep what’s left of my obviously waning sanity and make sure I don’t hurt anyone’s feels.  (Admit it, you kind of want to give my larynx a karate chop, don’t you?  Literally, go make a meme about it and be sure to keep it going!)

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If The Lego Movie Made Me Cry….

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Okay, listen – I didn’t CRY, exactly.  Fine, my eyes might have been brimming behind my 3D glasses, but I saved my tears for when Toy Story 3 was on later.  Holy cow, that was a sob-fest….for me, not my children.  Is The Lego movie sad,  you’re obviously wondering.  No.  No, it’s not.  It was disappointing that the Derby Girl Lego didn’t get a part (so I made my own movie – above – it’s pretty short), but aside from that travesty….a normal person wouldn’t have had any sort of breakdown at the end.  I won’t get into any Will Ferrell related spoilers, just trying to set the stage for the coming week’s blog topics.

If you read my earlier post that involved a lot of Facebook complaints, you will have learned a few things about me.  I don’t know what will have stuck with you the most – all of my gripes, or what they indicate is happening with me.  Either way, here are a few more facts to put things into perspective:

We had a very large and uncharacteristic snow situation here in my neck of the woods.  It hit on Thursday and dumped over 13″ of snow and then ice, and then snow again.  Now, that sounds like a normal winter for some, I know – but not where I live.  We can go years with no snow at all and that means we are no way prepared for A FOOT OF SNOW.  Life as we know it shut down.  That meant a perfect storm was also brewing in my soul (read: uterus?).  I had no where to go….which was so great at first.  It went like this – downtime with the kiddos, hurray!  We made popcorn!  Movies!  Snowmen!  Hot chocolate!  Snowball fights!  By day 2 – No more popcorn, for the love of all things holy!  We’ve had enough TV!  Don’t hit me with that GD snowball!  It’s too cold to go outside!

And so with bickering kids, no roller derby practice or gym (closed!) or open roads to run, an insatiable appetite and short fuse, I made the mistake of sitting down in front of my computer and logging on.  Remember my aforementioned warning about what would happen if I ever released the emergency brake and starting actually addressing people that were pissing me off on Facebook directly?  Yeah, that happened.  I…..engaged.  It couldn’t be helped, there were things that needed to be said, and….I said them.  Sarcastically.  Emphatically.  Unapologetically.

I also baked a triple batch of Krusteaz pumpkin pie bars.  Do you know what those are?  They are all things good and evil.  I’m not sure if there has ever been a real pumpkin involved in creating them because everything in the box is in the form of a fine powder, but they take 6 pounds of butter, some eggs, and also….water.  Unless you forget the water and then you end up with bricks.  Of disappointment.  And regret.  That you eat anyway.

To recap – unreasonable sadness, no exercise, lashing out at D-bags on Facebook, poorly baking AND devouring 75,493 calories and a non-coincedintal 10 pound weight gain over the last 4 days is probably all leading up to something.  And that something would be another snarky blog about people on FB who I should just unfriend, but instead will use them to teach others about things they need to stop posting.  Like a public service, only meaner.

Then we’ll see who will be crying.  (Hint: it will still be me, and my tears will smell like pumpkin.  And anger.)

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