Shave your head to show support of St...Barbie???

OK I was bored this morning so I decided to check out that bald barbie page that got me so wound up the other day, and I have to say they have raised the bar for attention seeking behavior. They are now asking their supporters to shave their heads to show support of the bald barbie. Not to advance research or donate money. No no, that wouldn't make any sense. Why n=be noble, when you can be commercial? And just so you don't think I am making this up, here it is, directly off their facebook page.

Beautiful and Bald Barbie! Let's see if we can get it made
This Wednesday, we offer you a chance to show your support for the Beautiful and Bald Barbie to be made in a very passionate, giving and heartfelt way.
To show Mattel how important making a Beautiful and Bald barbie is to you. We invite you to the Go Bald! Go Bold! for Barbie. We encourage those who want to show their passion for this to shave their heads on this day. Jan. 18, 2012. If your hair is long enough we encourage you to donate the hair to one of the organizations below that make wigs and provide them to children free of charge.

When you do this, we ask that you take pictures (preferable before and after photos). In the after photo please hold a sign that says "I went Bald and Bold for Barbie! If I can do it, she can do it!"

Let's show the kids how important this is to us. We know not everyone will be able to do this but for those of you who can! You can make a difference! Together we stand, for the children who have to live with hair loss due to chemo, alopecia or trichotillomania. They are not alone!

Places to donate your hair to:

Ok now this just makes me sick. I applaud the events hosted by St. Baldrick's to raise awareness and funds for cancer research, but they are not asking for that. They want to show Mattel, in big capital letters, that they want a bald Barbie. Like the 124,361 people "liking" their page isn't enough. I am pretty sure Mattel has gotten a slew of emails about this, any I bet that somebody in some department somewhere within Mattel most likely has learned to hate Barbie, facebook, and going to work every day at this point. In my first post, I said I was not a cancer mom. But in this day and age, you would be hard pressed to find anyone whose life has not been touched by cancer in some way. So today, I speak from the heart, as one that has lost loved ones from cancer, and my heart is disgusted at this stunt to garner 15 minutes of fame.

I lost my grandmother to cancer, and yes, she lost all of her hair during horrific chemotherapy treatments, where the loss of her hair was the least of her worries. I lost my mother to cancer, and she didn't lose a single hair. Just her life. In fact, almost everyone that has died in my extended family, was lost to cancer. No bald Barbie, or any other toy will fix that. I take the stance that more research is needed. Better ways to seek and destroy cancer are needed. Same goes for alopecia. Let's find better, more affordable treatment options for baldness. Let's delve deeper into autoimmune disorders, to gain a better understanding. Again with trichotillomania, help the sufferers by ending the suffering. In fact, trichotillomania is an impulse control disorder that is self destructive in nature. These people need help with psychological problems, not a standing ovation for bald Barbie that leads them to believe this behavior is ok.

I said earlier that I admire them for wanting to help raise awareness, but this stunt forces me to take that back. Their earlier message, misguided as it was, has gotten lost, and they are so enamored of their own PR that the stunts will just get bigger, longer, and more appalling. I think I will email Mattel and tell them that if they mass produce this idiotic doll, I will boycott not only the Barbie, but anything else bearing the Mattel label. Enough is enough, people. Your 15 minutes of fame is over. Now you just come across as attention whores, and that's just sad.

Peace out.

Frenemies...Or An Open Letter to all the Nutjobs I Know.

As of today, have officially had to block too many people from my facebook page. Any number of things have caused this to happen. It ranges from people ghosting my page to people being just plain nuts. What is it about facebook that brings out the frenemies in people? Generally, once I friend someone on fb, I let them hang around, and just hide their posts if they become annoying. That way, I don't have to be annoyed and they don't have to be unfriended. I find it is a system that works well. But there are things that just cross the line for me. Preaching to me, at me, or about me will get you blocked. Throwing temper tantrums on my page will get you blocked. Lecturing me about what I post on my page, or my blog page, will get you blocked. And unfriending me, but continuing to read my posts and blogs will get you blocked. It's a social networking site, people, not the bible. And it's not as private as you might like to believe. Since I have the blog page, I have this little tab on the side that says Insights, and it is indeed insightful. I can tell who checks my pages, whether they are at home or work, pc or mobile device, and what platform they use. I can tell when they were on my page, how long, and how many times. I even have a special little tab for Mac users. Now granted, fb insights are not as informative as the ones here, but I am able to cross reference, and do the math myself.

Facebook makes it fairly simple to block people, and I hate that I have had to use it so much lately. (Word to the wise here...don't post your bullshit on my kids page, and we will get along a tiny bit better, mkay pumpkin?) Sadly, I have yet to figure out how to block a select few on here, without removing myself for the search engines. Which would defeat the purpose of having a public blog anyway. So consider this a kind of public notice. Feel free to read. Hell you can even comment. But the bottom line is this...I am not you secret friend. I am not the person you can only claim to know in certain circles. Either you know me or you don't. Either you are my friend or you aren't. And once you decide you are not my friend in ANY circle, well you aren't my friend at all. (See earlier posts regarding cowards....oops, you can't see that anymore, can you? My bad.) As for anyone commenting here, I invite them, adore them, and appreciate them. But if they are inapproprate or vindictive, if they attack me or mine on a personal level, I delete them. But I think you already know that too, from past experience, huh?

Here's a little food for thought. I have been married, and I have been in a few serious relationships, and I have had countless fights with my spouse/sigother regarding my friends. I won't give up my friends unless they want to be given up. I sure as hell won't give them up because someone else tells me to. I have friends that have lots of friends themselves, and I have friends that nobody else can tolerate. As long as I can tolerate them, nobody else needs to worry about it. I don't do the kindergarten mindset that if X isn't my friend, then you can't be friends with them either.

It's simple, really. Stick by the ones that stick by you. And don't believe everything you hear about me. I don't believe all the bad I've heard about you. I just believe in how you treat me, and I would hope you do the same. If not, well then I don't feel so bad about blocking you after all.

Today I am a follower...

And I don't wish to hear any smartass comments from the peanut gallery, either. This means you, Kim LOL!

But today I am indeed a follower. You can't log into any social networking site without seeing a push for the Bald and Beautiful Barbie. And I confess that on the surface it sounds like a wonderful idea. But one woman was willing to stand up and take a public beatdown for thinking it wasn't so wonderful, and if Mary Tyler Mom can do it with her several thousand followers, I can sure do it with my...uhhh..I think I have 42 followers between here and facebook. For those of you that enjoy reading blogs, I recommend hers. ( http://www.chicagonow.com/mary-tyler-mom/2012/01/barbie-v-cancer/ ) She singlehandedly started what is now being called a movement. Even if it is being said a tad bit tongue-in-cheek. So I am a follower of the Anti-Bald Barbie movement. I agree with many of the reasons she writes about, but I have many reasons of my own.

I applaud the founders of the push for the bald beauty for what they are trying to do, which is to increase awareness of childhood cancer, alopecia, and third thing that I honestly can't remember, and couldn't spell even if I did. Please feel free to fill in that blank in a comment if you know. Raised awareness does indeed raise funds. Look at Susan G Komen For The Cure. Or the wearing of red to raise awareness of heart disease in women. So my hat is off to them for that. But I still think it's a bad idea, and here's why.

I have issues with Barbie that go way back. When I was little I wanted to BE Barbie when I grew up. Or at least a brunette version. Yeah, that didn't work out so much. For one thing I am flat chested as can be, and I have a huge butt, and lets just tell it like it is, Barbie's plastic perma-panties are unhygenic and chafe in a horrific way. And then there's the whole pink corvette trauma, but that's a different post for a different day. The point is my idea of beauty stemmed from Barbie, and it took me a while to realize that there are other types of beauty, and she wasn't something I needed to aspire to. So I am just anti-Barbie right out of the gate. My issue with the Bald and Beautiful Barbie is a little deeper though.

Let's say they succeed and little miss perfect is mass produced sans hair. At the same time, will they also mass produce Down Syndrome Barbie, Lupus Barbie or Dialysis Barbie? Do you see a wide market for Myasenthia Gravis Barbie, or how about Multiple Sclerosis Barbie? I just don't see that happening. So here's the hairless icon, and little girls that have hair, but may have other issues are left to wonder why they don't have a Barbie with their symptoms. Are they not as special? Dealing with illness, physical and neurological ailments and symptoms is hard enough without feeling like the toy industry is discriminating against them too.

Yes, yes and YES there needs to be more awareness of pediatric cancer and more research and more ways to help these children. I wholeheartedly agree. Have a fundraiser, do a fun run, host a casino night, have a wet t-shirt contest, or any one of a nillion other ideas to raise funds and awareness. Me, I would host a Barbie burning. Bring your Barbies and torch them in the communal bonfire at a buck a Barbie head, all proceeds to go to St. Baldrick's. (Good Lord, there is a lot of B's in that last sentence.)The moral, beauty is only on the surface, but fake goes all the way through. Whether bald is beautiful is really a moot point. Everyone is beautiful in their own way. Life is beautiful. Courage is beautiful. The ability to feel is beautiful. And the ability to care is beautiful. You can't mass produce it. Mass production would cheapen it, and you would see that all that iconic bald beauty is still just covering something fake, plastic, and highly combustible.

As I close, let me say that no, I do not have experience with a child with cancer. What I have is a beautiful daughter that needs a kidney transplant. She has roughly 2 feet of catheter tubing coming out of her stomach, which she connects to a dialysis cycler for 11 hours every single day of her life so that she can have a life. And her thoughts on Ailment-Bearing-Awareness-Raising Barbie? If someone gave her a Barbie with 2 feet of tubing hanging from it's stomach, she would burn it. She wants to be treated just like you and me and every other "normal" person in the world. She defines her disease, and does not let it define her. So if anyone wants to host a Barbie Burning, you just let us know. I've got just the girl to light that first match.

Peace and love.

Porn Star Dancing

Yep. I love that song. I can't tell you how much I love that song! Apparently, so does one of my fellow apartment dwellers. I was taking my morning pretend-I-am-exercising-to-get-into-shape walks, and I could hear this song. It was playing loudly just around the corner. I eagerly stepped up my pace to see who was jamming to one of my favorite tunes. Keep in mind it was 6:30 in the morning. I rounded the corner and there she was.

Now I admit, I have packed on a few pounds in the past year or two. Ok, yeah, I packed on 40 pounds in the past year or two. (Hello, that's why I am pretending to exercise!) And I also know that there are people who have massive weight problems. It takes all kinds to make the world go 'round, right? This girl was a brunette, long beautiful hair, with sloe eyes, and a pouty, full mouth. It was full of, best I could tell, some sort of fast food breakfast buiscuit. She was roughly 5 feet tall, and 4 feet around. Her make-up had been applied with the best mortar trowel money could buy. And she was dancing like nobody was watching. I mean that girl was flat out moving.

I had never seen anyone make love to a sausage biscuit before, but I swear she was. And she was managing to make it part of her dance. She was, hands down, one of the most artful, passionate dancers I have ever seen. I stood there in slack-jawed amazement, with a heaping dose of envy thrown in for good measure. I love to dance, but I suck at it. This girl rocked. She finished her bisuit about halfway through the song, and moved on to using a truck as another prop in her dance. There was nobody outside that I could see, other than us. I kept thinking to myself that whatever this girl actually did for a living, she had missed her calling. She could make a fortunbe teaching strippers how to dance. She was seriously that good. And quite obviously, she was that confident. I could never break out and dance in public like that. Well, not sober anyway. There was this one time, at the bar...but anyway.

The song ended, and it was like she suddenly became aware of her surroundings. She saw me standing there, hero-worship glowing in my eyes. She flipped her hair behind her ear, in yet another artful move I could never pull off, looked me dead in the eye, and called me a pervert. She told me off for a good five minutes about sneaking around, watching her dance, (I did mention this was in the parking lot, right?)and laughing at the fat girl trying to dance. Well, so much for self-confidence. She ended her tirade by telling me if I didn't get the fuck away from her, she was going to call the cops. I walked away, still slack-jawed with amazement, but for an entirely different reason. I couldn't imagine having that kind of talent, and being ashamed by it. Or maybe she is just plain old nuts. Either way, she left a lasting impression.

And I admit it. In the privacy of my bedroom, with the door closed, and nobody watching, I try and try to dance the way she did. Minus the biscuit. And the truck. I never can manage to do it the way she did though. I haven't seen her around here since. Since she obviously has issues, I wouldn't approach her, even if I did. Prison orange is not in my color wheel. But I wanted to dedicate this to her, wherever she is. So, for the crazy fat girl, with the horrendous make-up, and the awesome dance moves, my favorite song. From me to you.

Bless your heart!

As any woman in the south knows, saying "bless your heart" is not a sweet southern sentiment. It can be used to cover a plethora of topics, and its use is always a polite way to say something really scathing. Check out some of the many possible uses of this quaint southern-fried way of saying FUCK OFF!

Scenario #1. You are dumb enough to go to work and tell your co-workers that you have some sort of cooter funk. A co-worker responds to your tale of woe with "Bless your heart!" This co-worker is not feeling sympathy for you in any shape, form, or fashion. What she is really saying is...
"Holy hell in a bucket. It's not bad enough that I have to get up at the fucking ass crack of dawn, come to this paralyzingly tedious job, pretend to be perky all day, and bring home a paycheck that makes welfare look appealing. Oh hell no. I also have to listen to this mattress-backed dimwit discuss cooter cheese which she probably picked up in some skanky dive bar with some even skankier dive man. Serves her slut ass right. I hope like hell she uses the fucking bathroom down the hall. Dear God in heaven, please make her shut the fuck up before I try and staple her lips shut!"

Scenario #2. You cheat on your wife with a woman, dump her, go back to the wife who leaves you for the pool boy. You have nothing left except a crust of bread and 2 mismatched socks. Your favorite Auntie listens to you cry about it and responds "Well, bless your heart!" What she is really saying is...
There is no way this fucking idiot can be related to me. What the fuck was my sister thinking? I TOLD that bitch she should have swallowed! And just why on the hell does he think he has room to complain anyway? I bet he'd have a heart attack if he knew I tipped off his wife about his girlfriend, sent the pool boy to his house, and paid the first 6 months on the condo lease for them to run away and move into. What a fucking idiot. I guess now I better to get to the ex-girlfriend before he does too. This motherfucker does not need to procreate!"

Scenario #3.You lay out of work 3 out of 5 days a week, and then complain that you are so broke you can't afford to buy food or pay bills. Your boss say "Bless your heart!" The words you don't hear...
"Well just what the fuck did you expect, you slacker? Gazing at the big star in the east ain't gonna bail your sorry ass out of this, and neither am I. You had the time and energy to lay out, getting drunk, partying and whatever else in the hell useless people like you do. Meanwhile, we were all here, working our asses off to cover our jobs AND yours. Sucks a big dick that you are broke, but you need to quit your fucking bitching. I've never actually killed anyone with a staple remover or a hole puncher, but I am by God about to try!"

And that is just the tip of a big ass iceberg of southern colloquialisms designed to sound charming and quaint while actually saying fuck off and die. You think that's bad, one of these days I will break down just exactly what "Oh my goodness" means!

Bless your hearts!!

Nice and Sweet

Oh my God, it hurts! I have so many topics in my head that it is getting backed up, and I am getting those horrible gotta-poop-and-can't-do-it cramps. In my head. Do you have any idea how bad that sucks??? God only knows how many blogs this will result in. But I have got to do a major mind dump or go nucking futs.

Let's start with Facebook posts. I used to be a confirmed Facebook addict. Lately I have been too busy, and/or too tired to spend much time on there. When I do, I have to wade through 300 posts about the most minute details of someone's day. Dude, really?? Get a fucking Twitter account. That's why it's there. I really don't want to see the Facebook "check-ins" or the dirty little details of someone's life. If I wanted to know all that, I would call and say "Hey, whatcha doin? Precisely, I mean." I don't want to know EVERYTHING about you. I don't even want to know everything about me, for Christ sake. And just what in the hell is up with "X is at Yplace with Z"? I don't CARE! I know who you hang with, play with, are dating, married to, or fucking.I know this because you are a friend. So why do I need to know everytime you fart together? Jay-sus. Enough already. Who the hell are you trying to impress? Or convince? Let me be perfectly clear here. I. DO. NOT. CARE. I used to care a lot about my friends and what they were up to, but too many people have just abused it to the point that I am sick of it. I don't mind multiple posts, if you have something to say other than he less than riveting check in details. Except for one tiny little thing...

If you are in the same house with someone, QUIT posting back and forth on Facebook. There is nothing more disgusting than knowing two people are sitting in the same house and being forced to see their conversation pop up on my news feed. It's really kind of pathetic, actually. The fact that you think people find it cute, or adorable, or entertaining. STOP! It's not. In fact, it's even more annoying than having to scroll through 200 posts worth of who did what on Farmville. I have a life. Such as it is. And it consists of more than this. There is a whole world out there, and it has absolutely NOTHING to do with YOU! Try enjoying it for once. Quit trying to impress people with your wit, which is nonexistant, and realize that you are not as fascinating as you think you are.

And lastly, for this post anyway... People who insist on labeling pictures WiTh FuCkEd Up LeTtErS LiKe ThIs. How fucking OLD are you anyway? If you are a girl in the 4th grade, with braces, knock knees, ugly shoes, and clothes your mommy picked out, this might be cute. In a grown ass person it is just pitiful. And you wonder why people are constantly looking at you in a short-bus-window-licking kind of way. If you insist on behaving like a child, then expect to be treated as such.

Oh dear. I was trying so hard to be nice and sweet. I guess that didn't work out so much for me.

Freakishly Large Breasts

So, there I was, goofing off on the internet yesterday, surfing really dumb funny pictures on a variety of sites. I admit it. I was looking for mindless entertainment. My mind wanders easily, so it doesn't take much to distoh my god, would you look at that!! Anyway. I stumbled on a picture that just screamed the name of a friend. I shit you not. I saw his name in huge neon letters when I saw this picture. I have no idea why, really. Yes, he is an affirmed titty idiot, but all men are, so why I thought of him is anybody's guess.

I digress. I saw the picture, so I did what any good friend would do. I copied it and posted it to his facebook page. It seems that some boobs are just too big, even for all the titty idiots out there. But of course, being a man, he just had to say he wanted to see her naked. Herein lies the dilemma. As a friend, I was determined to find him the picture he requested. As a mom, I knew I would die a thousand deaths if my daughter caught me looking for this picture. As a Facebook addict, I knew I would get a big old facebook boot up my ass if I posted it, once I found it. Well hell.

Yep, this morning I was surfing porn sites, looking for nekkid titanic titties. I figured if I found a picture to suit him, I could work out the details later. I am dilligent as hell, so of course, I found a picture. Not the orginal girl, but a close substitute. I even worked out all the logistics. I copied it to my hard drive, sent him a private message, attached the picture, and of course I added a note. He already thinks I am a certified helmet-wearing-window-licking-crayon-eating headcase anyway. No need to make it any worse, right? Now I just have to remember to remove the picture from the hard drive before my daughter gets on here.

The point to this little tale is this. If you ever feel bad about being short on boobage, go look at some of these pictures. I want you to know I feel positively sexy after that little adventure. There are boobless women, there are small boobs, medium boobs, big boobs, droopy boobs, skinny ones, fat ones, flat ones, even concave ones. (I swear to God. Just google freakishly large breast images) But there is nothing as creepy as a womans breasts that weigh more than I do. I may be small breasted, and I amy be rockin the muffin top look at the moment, but at least I CAN rock. And roll, and bathe independantly, and tie my own shoes. I can sleep on my stomach. If you are very good at what you do I can sleep on YOUR stomach. She can't.

This meeting of the itty bitty titty committee is now in session...