Shiz I have seen on the Internet.

27 06 2010

I told you all once about my love affair with my computer and the fascinating world attached to my high speed internet connection.

Once upon a time, I stumbled upon a website that I began to frequent, and I became a regular commenter, and soon found myself enmeshed with a group of people that I did not “know”, but soon came to care deeply about and spent many, many hours with in a sort of private pseudo chat-room/blog. We moved from the site that we had all “met” each other on, and had our very own private place to connect. And, oh man, the FUN we had…. Good times…..

To this day, even though that part of my life is over, I still connect with these folks through facebook and email, having moved from our “Fake Internet Persona” into revealing who and what we were to each other. The true delight was realizing that we actually had real friendships with each other, and truly cared about on another.

Well, anyways, through our time being assholes on the internet, I have witnessed a LOT of stuff. You name it, I think I have seen it.

My time of seeing this sort of shit is pretty much done, I try to keep my computer as free from “pornadoes” as I possibly can, but sometimes curiosity rears its ugly head, much like driving by a horrific accident scene,  you just can’t resist the urge to click and see for yourself…..

2girls1cup (indescribably horrid), TubGirl (What. THE FUCK???), Blue Waffle (Jesus H. Tapdancing Christ), CUPCAKES (Hot) and Lemon Party (Someone pour bleach into my eyes right NOW!!!)  are just a few that I can think of off the top of my head.

It makes me cringe and laugh at the same time to think of the shit (Bwahahahahah!!! LITERALLY!!!!) that I have watched or seen in my online life.

Now, however, I have 2 kids who are more and more online, and I fret and worry that they will see and hear and witness the crazy stuff that I have seen. I wonder how it could affect them, the disillusions it might give them, the fear and horror it could inflict.

There are some sick-ass people out there, yo. Really, really SICK.

Now, you saw those enticing keywords up there. You might be just curious enough to google one or two of the phrases….. You might just want to click on a link…. And hey, if you’re an adult, why then… it’s none of my business whether or not you choose to check it out.

BUT….. Take a moment and heed my advice:

WHAT HAS BEEN SEEN CAN NEVER EVER BE UNSEEN……





Girlfriends rock….

14 06 2010

Who else can you bitch to about your kids or husband? Who else will understand PMS and cramps and not take it personally when you flip the fuck out over stupid things? Who else can you tell intimate details about your sex life without judgment? Who else can understand every nuance of your female being?

Ah. Girlfriends. That’s who.

If you have a vagina, you know what I’m talking about. Girlfriends can commiserate, laugh, understand, celebrate, cry and just be with you.

I am blessed and fortunate to be in a circle of women that does all this and more.

I know who likes it up the butt. I know what everyone’s boobs look like. I know who gets Brazilians. (Hell, I’ve seen the results!) I know who spanked their child and then cried that they were too harsh on their kid. I know who has wondered if they are meant to be married. I know of close calls of infidelity. I know of vows made anew. I know of self-hate that makes me cry. I know of wit, wisdom, sweetness and love. I know every bit of my friend’s lives, their hopes and dreams, their desolation and downfalls, their wry sense of humour, the way they hug you. They, in turn, know me. They laugh at my raunchy jokes and put up with my loud braying laughter. They raise me up in praise and love. We pour drinks, bring yummy food to gatherings, we practice yoga together, call each other to cry or laugh or bitch to, we look out for one anothers children, we act as therapists for one another in our up-and-down marriages, we give shoulders to lean on when life gets you down.

We (sometimes) swim topless together. We marvel and enjoy each others gifts of fashion, or of cooking, singing or playing the guitar. We comfort and calm, we tease each other and prod, we fight with each other and then learn to let it go.

We are women. We are friends. We do not compete, but instead band together to unify what we represent to ourselves, to our families and to the world.

We drink together and get stupid, and make each other laugh so hard that the next day our cheek muscles are stiff and sore from this all-night giggle fest.

We stand witness to each others lives.

And we will be there, too, for every future heartbreak and challenge, every tear and sob and rage from grief and tragedy yet unfolded. We will bring the food, the wine, the beach blanket and the understanding. We will bring solace and dirty jokes. We will bring whatever it takes.

We are girlfriends. We rock.





A comedic diversion, of sorts. But then again, you might not find the humour in it….

6 06 2010

The past few posts have been a bit on the Debbie Downer side of things.  And it got me thinking that I need to put down some words that make me laugh. And really, what is better than self-deprecating humour?

Nothing, I say. Nothing….

The other day, I went for my regular bikini wax.

I have been a “waxee” for some time now. And, in the past, I have dabbled in the delicate art of being a “waxer”.

It’s my one “beauty” indulgence. TMI, perhaps, for some people. Feel free to leave now, if reading about ripping hair out of delicate areas via warm wax and strips of cloth make you squirm….

Yeah, I wax my bits. And while I laid back on that table covered in crinkly paper with no pants on, it really made me ponder about the…. intimacy, shall we say of this sort of female beauty rite that it offers both parties involved. By which I mean, the waxee and waxer.

Since, generally speaking, laying on a table under harsh lights without pants on means you’re at the doctor’s office for your annual you-know-what smear. Or, if you’re a sexual deviant, it could be a regular Tuesday night….. Either way, it’s compromising to say the least.

No doubt, being the waxee is the easy part in entailing the *cough* work that has to be done. However, easy isn’t exactly quite the descriptive word I would use while laying there with all manner of lady parts exposed for some stranger to come in and cause agony and torture upon.

I’ve had it done for a while now, so it isn’t nearly as bad as some people would fear. But let me be clear. Pulling hair out by its roots hurts. Being half naked with your leg up in the air or bent at a compromising angle while some person’s face is in your bizness WHILE the hair is being ripped out adds a whole new and fascinating layer to the experience.

It causes questions to arise in my brain that I would rather not type out loud. But between you and I, these questions make me giggle.

Ah, what the hell. These are the things I think about. And I know you wonder about too.

“Gee whiz, do I look, ya know, normal?”
“Oh, that wax is nice and war….*rip*… OHMYGODITHURTSSOBAD! YOU EVIL BITCH FROM HELL!!!! I WILL KILL YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS!!!”
“Oh, God. Is she plucking hairs? Can she get her face any closer?”
“She’s looking at my butt. SHE IS LOOKING AT MY BUTT!!!!!”
“Dear sweet baby jeebus, she’s got the tweezers again! This is worse than water-boarding, I swear.”
“Wait. Did she just ask for me to hold this part tight away from that part? Is that even legal?”
“Please let me be the least-repulsive client ever… pleasepleaseplease…”
“Hm. I should ask her if my ‘roid looks okay. HAHAHAHA!!!!”

….and so forth.

Well, the things we women do. We wax, we pluck, we dye, we preen, we slather, we continuously search for that magic elixir to keep our beauty and sex appeal alive.

We place ourselves in predicaments that men would likely be alarmed and maybe slightly turned on if they even knew the half of what we do to maintain our level of beauty. Torturous, expensive, revealing, and completely superfluous.

And this wasn’t even a Brazilian.





Raising them right.

1 06 2010

I wonder, sometimes, when children and teenagers and even adults get picked on and bullied by their peers, what is it about them that makes them a target to others?

Is it just an unidentifiable trait that the bully doesn’t like? Is it the clothes they wear, the way their hair is styled or something they see in themselves that they don’t like? Is it nothing that can be defined, like a pheromone scent?

Or is it that some people are just jerks?

I am asking myself these questions, and trying my hardest to figure it out because it’s happened to my son. Another child in his class has decided to take after him on a regular basis, for reasons I cannot figure out, since they used to be friends. This boy berates Nick, calls him names and tells him lies of things he has done, to get under my kid’s skin. He has also picked on one of Nick’s buddies on a regular basis. This was first brought to my knowledge by other parents, who came to me to ask how Nick was doing, because their own child told them about this on-going bullying. That other kids noticed it happening.

When it first started happening, I refused to be a “helicopter parent” and chose to not get involved other than wanting to help my child figure out how to stand up and defend himself, even if it meant punching the other kid in the nose, if it came down to it.

Then, eventually, I did end up contacting the mom, and felt really good and positive about our conversation. She really made me feel like there would be changes happening. Although, a tendency to blame other kids for their own child’s behaviour became quite apparent to me. I know that we all are our own kid’s advocates, but to the extent of not owning your own kid’s behaviour really gets me riled up. I mean, for God’s sake, KIDS LIE. They manipulate to make sure they don’t get blamed. D’UH! I did it as a kid, every kid does it. That’s a major reason why I didn’t want to over-react and chose to try to let them work it out.

But it didn’t stop. And I noticed sometimes my normally goofy and jokester child was sad and withdrawn. So the other night, we laid on his bed, played with legos and started to talk. And wow, did we ever have a conversation.

We talked about how people are mean. How Mom and Dad deal with jerks on a regular basis, because, let’s face it, human beings are the meanest animals on the planet sometimes. We chatted about standing up for yourself. We covered the whole gamut of topics relating to this, including that Nick himself has been really mean to other kids in the past. He owned it, and I was proud of him. And then I asked him what he wanted me to do.

He told me he wanted it to stop and asked me to call the school.

So I did. And when I went to pick my kids up today, I saw the other child walk by my son and shoot him a look of utter hatred.

I hope that the parents deal with this in a good way. They need to be clear that this is not acceptable, that this is bullying and he is not allowed to try to blame it on anyone else, but he should accept that he was wrong and apologize to my son.

All I know is, that when I was bullied in school, it left such a deep and jagged rent in my heart that took years to heal. That, to this day, if I conjur up the faces and names of the girls that did it to me, I still feel echoes of such rage and despair, such hatred and sadness that I ache to fix this for my son, immediately. So that he doesn’t have to bear this in his sweet and tender soul.

No child deserves this. If your kid has been bullied OR is part of the bullying problem, fix it. FIX IT NOW. You’re not a bad parent if your child is the victim or the perpetrator. It just means they need extra help in guiding them to become outstanding and amazing adults.

Thank you for reading my blog.