o tempora, o mores! | what the fuck, people?

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Sing With Me!

Leeeegaaaaliiityyy!

Mufufu.

Um, so, as of about…four-ish hours ago I have been, in the eyes of American Law, a legal adult whose actions can be pwned with the full force of just ramifications! If we were elsewhere in the world, I wouldn’t be until later in the day–I was pushed out at 1:47pm, so, y’know…some places are OD and like to be excessively specific, and I would have ten hours–literally, from the moment I began that sentence, anyway–till I was legit.

People here get overly excited for it. I mean, I guess if you were an underage smoker the idea that you can buy your own cigs might be cool? I guess? Or if you were waaay into political science, the idea of being able to vote might give you a stiffy. Or if you were reeeeally wanting that tattoo and your parents said, “No, Jimmy! You can’t have that tattoo, <insert reasons here>.” Or if you’re so happy that your parents can’t really legally intervene/make decisions for you/etc [unless you're incapacitated and they're next of kin, of course, but that's different].

Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t that I’m not excited. That last bit there is really nice…For years, I’ve been acting as the mediator of the family. Just last night, we went grocery shopping, and they had a row in the store. Wth? I’m not fond of yelling. It isn’t that I can’t /deal/ with yelling, I can; but I’ve been dealing with it for the better part of a decade; the idea of being able to leave and forge my own peace and quiet gives me, metaphorically of course, a stiffy. I’m not barging out the door yet, but I do plan to in the relatively near future when we get our finances straight–this isn’t an, “OMG I HATE YOU,” move, rather a, “Okay…I need my space now so I can think and develop myself and my mind in an advantageous way. Your silliness is feeling a little stuffy, and I need to breathe a bit, thank you much!” [Admittedly there are times where I feel like it might end up being a more rawr-like situation, I keep coming back to the more reasonable one.] And even if I wasn’t moving/planning to, the idea that I could be in the midst of being yelled at for <insert ridiculous random reason here, such as the grass isn’t purple> and just…leave for a bit without anyone getting any stupid ideas like trying to dub me a runaway. [No, that has not happened to me.]

On top of that, I can vocalize without concern that Phix + Me = ^_^! Not that we had a whole ton of concern before-’-specially considering one of the things my parents aren’t ridiculous about is adoring him xD–but there was the possibility that they could change their minds, or that someone could say no, or some trouble would ensue although there is no evidence that anything that trouble could be stirred over was going on. I live in a particularly ass-backwards state–the AoC is still 18 while in about 34 of the 50 other states it is 16. ‘Sodomy’ laws are still on the books [including both oral and anal, if you're so inclined] although the Supreme Court is like, “Stfu you can’t actually prosecute under those.” Fifteen really will get you twenty although simultaneously five can get you…one? And although that fifteen year old is dressed like a streetwalker like it is actually her job, and is a bit too knowing, etc.
It’s funny–the AoC in Virginia used to be 16 but it was changed shortly after my birth. Virginia’s little slogan claims that it, “is for Lovers,” although gay marriage isn’t legal here.

It’s foolish how those laws are based. In the time between when I was still legally ‘17′ and the clock struck and I became legally ‘18′ I learned nothing; I gained no wisdom or ability to protect myself, make better decisions based on being an informed person, etc. To be blunt: if he was here last night and–again, I said this is to be blunt–fucked my brains out [which he wasn't because he was in PA having to sleep so he could go to work in the morning], and random interested party wanted to make the law go rawr, he could’ve gotten in crazy trouble! But you know, now, it would be perfectly fine although I am the same person, same mentality, etc. And it should be fine because I am an educated, intelligent young person who does not get herself into situations without being aware of their consequences, etc. I’m healthy, I don’t smoke or do any drugs; I don’t get into trouble–I even pay taxes! My point is that it should’ve been just as fine if it would have happened last night, too, because I was then as I am now.
Like somehow, overnight, my ability to make judgments has changed.

But I will be traveling up to Pennsylvania later today. Nevermind the mischief. I’ll be up there for about three weeks–from then until Otakon, and then I will be back in dull Virginia after the conclusion of the fun madness that is the convention.

Cheers, you all. :]

Acrylic - A Lesson!

When I worked in the restaurant we worked with some pretty harsh chemicals to make sure that, you know, surfaces/tools/etc. were sterile and safe. We had gloves, yes, but when they only hit your wrist it doesn’t do much if you have to plunge your hand into said solution.

I don’t really care for cosmetics, but I do like my nails. And I like to take care of them. I actually detest having them done in a salon, which is weird I guess for someone who is almost obsessed with them. I’ve typically kept them in impeccable shape/health–except for the fact that said chemicals plus constant handwashing required in a restaurant leaves hands sad. The caustic stuff was causing my nails to soften and weaken and even peel, which, of course, pissed me off. Washing hands every five minutes or so leaves hands painfully dry.

By my graduation, my hands still hadn’t recovered entirely from the stuff although I hadn’t worked there in almost three months at that point. As a treat, I went to go get gel extensions to kinda shield my natural ones from the abuse of typing, cleaning, etc. Before any procedure or whatever, I like to look up what is used and what’s going to be done.

I get to the salon I picked and the nail tech started working on my hands. Now, a set of gels was $45 and a set of acrylics $30. I picked the gels because from what I can tell/have read/have seen on others, they are a higher quality extension that will ultimately damage your nail less. Now, any tech that isn’t a failure shouldn’t ever damage your nail, but accidents happen sometimes. Since I already wanted gels, I went with that.
[For those of you who don't know, which I assume is probably the majority...xD...an acrylic nail is one sculpted using acrylic powder lifted out with a brush dipped in a monomer to turn it into an odd, putty-like consistency. It's then tapped on and shaped on around the natural nail until it cures and is hard. Gels are applied similarly, but the gel is literally a /gel/--it is like the consistency of..say..cherry pie filling, sans the actual cherries--and it is brushed over the nail similar to how normal lacquer is and it is then cured under a UV lamp. It's thinner and more flexible than an acrylic which is bulky and ridiculous.]

She then pulls out the dapper dish [what the monomer and acrylic is typically contained in]. I was like, “Um…that’s acrylic.”
“Yeah, that acrylic!” my Vietnamese tech smiles. “You know!”
“Yes, I know…and that’s not what I asked for. I asked for gels, so we need to do gels. With the lamp?”
“Oh, I put gel on top. Make it stronger.”
“That’s…not a gel nail…that’s an acrylic with gel on top, which is not what I wanted.”
“Oh…”

Now…in a normal situation that would’ve been the deal-breaker right there, deception. However…I was stuck there, had no immediate ride, and if I just sat there for hours and had my dad show up to get me without nails being done, he would’ve been cross. So I bit my tongue and said, “I’ll go with the acrylics, but I want the acrylic price.” Really, this was an experiment to see if I liked extensions at all, and something to shield my natural nails from the typical abuse they receive.

Well, they looked cute at the expense of, you know, having a cuticle shredded by the careless use of a dremel! If you look at the picture I posted in the Gallery, my nails are visible on the edge of the diploma. They were a bit longer than I thought I wanted, but when they were done they were cute so I kept them that way. I didn’t have any trouble typing with my fingertips [not nail tips. that's bad!] or picking things up or opening cans. The only thing that got me was buttoning pants, but I overcame it.

Two days later, though, I started to have an awkward discomfort in my left ring and thumb, around, of course, the nail. They were lifting! Already! So I called the salon and was like, “Uh…hey guys? I’ve been taking care of my hands, I’ve been very careful with them, and they’re already lifting. I need to come in.” They agreed to fix it for free–well obviously, like I’m going to pay MORE for their fuckup? I go in and am like, “Look, you can hardly see it lifting, but I feel it and it is painful.”
“Oh, you want removed? That ten dollars.”
“Um…no, I don’t want them removed I want them fixed. But if I did want them removed because it is causing me pain it would not be ten dollars.”
“Oh we charge!”
“No. This HURTS. This is the first time I’ve had these things and I’ve taken really good care of them. They’re just as glossy and perfect in appearance. I’m not going to pay you guys more money because your technique is poor.” Two of the women look at my hands and say, “They fine! You no need.” Oh man…
“Um, no, they definitely aren’t fine. They hurt! I’m not asking for a new free set, but the length needs taken down and there’s all this bulk on the sides of these two that needs to be adjusted so it isn’t tugging. And if you aren’t going to do it, I’ll go to another salon and have them fixed and report you guys to the state board.” They understood that, at least. They did as I wanted–it didn’t even take five minutes for both hands, required no other restructuring or repainting. There, that wasn’t so hard–so wtf?

Two and a half weeks later, the rest of them started lifting as they should normally do after that amount of time. I definitely didn’t want them filled, so I went and got some pure acetone and stuff–I was out–to soak them off. Depending on the application and other shit, that can take anywhere from 10 minutes to 2 hours. Mine was about a half-hour for each hand…and it actually gets a little uncomfortable. I didn’t even end up getting ALL of it off. The vast majority, yes, is off…but there’s a very fine layer on the tops of each. I didn’t want to take any more off because my nails are extremely thin now–again, careless dremel…doesn’t seem like that much at the time, but…yeah.

So, I will never be getting that done again. I will also obviously never be going to that salon again [not even for pedicures] and I have done my part to inform applicable parties about their piss-poor practices and advice them not to patronize them. It sucks…some of the Viet salons around here do great jobs, but the one I used to go to sold theirs. And everyone I’ve been to since sucks…they don’t go by the books–which I typically don’t care about, but when it’s hurting me, um yeah. American-run salons typically charge a bit more in my area. What I need to do is just get the tools to do it all myself–I have maintenance stuff, but yeah.

Ladies, if you’re curious about them, just don’t waste your money. Even a crazy-pro nail tech can’t avert some of the problems that happen. For a false extension to be applied, the nail pretty much has to be buffed way down, which, in itself, is not good for you. If they fuck up and get your cuticle, that puts you at risk for infection. My nails aren’t /paper/ thin unlike some people’s end up, fortunately, and they will be natural for the rest of their time. I’m patiently waiting for them to grow back to their normal, healthy selves with extra doses of Vitamin A and Calcium. They’re growing pretty quick–when I soaked them off like three days ago I painted them and they’ve already grown out like 2mm. :D

[Also, just getting french-tip falsies looks trashy. It's banal and cheap. Don't have them look like a circus, but..seriously. French is overdone and icky.]

Google

Fact: Google’s starting to suck!

Actually, it’s been getting sucky for a while.

Have you noticed the abundance of spammers with Gmail accounts? I’m sure X and Jan have at the verrry least. It’s the new Yahoo/Hotmail! I have never had Yahoo or Hotmail account for the email–used to have/use them for the respective IM clients, though. In fact…I went straight from the dark ages of having addresses through dial-up clients [Icky AOL first and then MSN for like two months] to having a Gmail account back when they were invitation-only. I have an AIM screen name and I don’t use its email, etc. It sucks, it’s all inflated. Simple UI = happiness.

And the spam I’m receiving to my Spam folder has increased drastically in the past six months. I have had my current account with them since I was 15…and I would never get spam. I haven’t signed up for anything new lately, so…I’m not really sure. It’s obnoxious, though.

What’s funny is that Google seems to be doing nothing about it. Phix has a site and there’s been increased spam there, too. He actually emailed the Gmail folks with a list of the spammer addresses and they didn’t even send a form-letter response, to my knowledge.

That’s not a very nice thing to do, Google. Piss people off that like you and you will compromise your plan for World Domination. :x

dropped twitter

Fact: Social networking is not reporting and no one cares about how many vitamins you take.
Ideas spread quickly this way; but can we actually spread IDEAS instead of bullshit?

I made one a little while ago out of curiosity. I even got the TwitterFox add-on for my browser so I wouldn’t have to go to the site. I could tweet from my phone, even!

I don’t mind the idea of Twitter. I actually like the idea of Twitter; social networking without pomp, circumstance, over-inflated poorly generated HTML/CSS and with brevity.
Or so I thought?

The idea of a 140-character blurb about a random thought is neat, to me. However, this goes from neat to, “Goddamn, what have you done!?” when there are no limitations and people are able to tweet every, oh, thirty seconds about the inane aspects of their daily life.

> Fed the cat, he’s so picky. Went out and got the paper from the bushes.
> Wow, why do so many people pay that much for Starbucks? Seattle’s Best is good!
[no shit...same company, same product--different name and price. tool.]
> Traffic sucks! Meantime, you should check out <insert shitty, bland indie song here>.
> Gotta take a dump, brb!

Aside from that, it can be a convenient thing for various artists to promote their stuff. I was following a few webcomic people, the people who did The Guild and Legend of Neil…they weren’t as bad as some of the celebs who have some loser publicist updating every five minutes, but they still put out some ridiculous stuff a little more often than I thought good.

And then you’ve got the news channels, sites, papers, etc. either quoting, citing, pleading that you follow their persona or whatever, etc. I know that real reporting doesn’t really exist, but can we at least go back to pretending? In ten minutes of watching CNN, MSNBC, Fox News I hear the word, “Twitter,” or, “tweet,” at least eight times. Be it, “You can check out and follow me on Twitter…” “This was a response to our tweet,” and other such tripe. Hey, do your job instead of leeching off a free social networking service that isn’t meant for your wannabe reporting and your projection of your haughty, half-formed opinions [I'm talking to you, Nancy Grace and Glenn Beck].

Really, I’m not a huge fan of the social networking stuff. I still really dislike Facebook, am not particularly fond of MySpace…but Twitter has been totally ruined by abuse. MySpace and Facebook are on their way their with the inclusion of similar things to their little getup.

So I deleted my account. Enough people already waste the bandwith because they can’t judge between overdoing it and being reasonable; why should I waste my energy reading it? After reading about the dumb girl who electrocuted herself trying to tweet about her bath, I’m just so glad I made that decision earlier today, because that’s about thirty different kinds of stupid.

personal responsibility

I’m almost certain that every member of the X111.com community can agree with the following statement:

If you are old enough to spread your legs or otherwise engage in intercourse, you are old enough to be responsible for any contraceptives you might need or have prescribed to you.

Of the idiots I am ashamed to say I used to maintain friendships with, I have to say that Kate is the least stupid in terms of birth control but she is certainly deplorably lazy. She has been in the same relationship for three years-ish [I think] and didn’t even go for intercourse until, idk, several months ago.

They use condoms and such, which is a good practice, but after having a scare [which wasn't REALLY a scare, just she has a whack cycle], she decided to go on hormonal birth control. Being, like I said, an idiot, the idea of taking a pill at the same time every day balks her so she and her doc decided on the Ortho-Evra patch. There have been some pretty nasty side effects associated with that thing. I’ll take my little pills, thanks.

For those of you not familiar with how it works, you slap a patch on a specific site once a week. At the end of that week, you remove it and exchange it for another one. The fourth week of that month you go without and that’s when…yeah. You have to be amazing to fuck that up. Since you wear one patch on the third week and then have the fourth without, that’s a good two weeks in which one can obtain their next month’s prescription so they can have their BC on hand for the next day of the new cycle.

She called me, one day:

“Oh boy…what now?”
“She didn’t go get my patch!”
“Um…why does your mom have to get it?”
“She has my insurance card.”
“So get it from her and go to CVS.”
“I don’t know how to get a prescription filled! She just needed to fucking do it. I mean, she knows I need it. She goes, ‘Oh, hey did you need that filled?’ today, which is like three days into when I’ve needed it.”
“…and you didn’t say anything? You get the card, go to the counter, say, ‘This is my name; I need this filled, please.’”

No sympathy! If you are old enough to fuck, you’re DEFINITELY old enough to keep track of your birth control. That is not, and never will be, mommy’s duty unless there’s another medical reason why you need to be put on a BCP at a younger age. No, I don’t think her mom should have her insurance card at that point, I think mom should’ve handed it over for that purpose. Even so, there’s nothing stopping her from saying, “Hey mom, I have to go get this filled,” so she can either obtain her insurance card or to at least let mom know. There was plenty of time, and there’s no excuse for her not to have what she needed other than sheer laziness and stupidity.

Before it was time for transcripts to get faxed off to our respective institutions of learning [she took Keystone courses as well, but attended different physical High Schools] I was chatting with her about how long it was going to be until she was finished with her course. She answered and added, “And then mom faxes it off to the school,” as if she or I could print our list of grades and fax it off as if it was a credible source. No, that’s unheard of. No school would accept that…they would all want it on the official letterhead. So I told her she had to phone Keystone’s offices and have it faxed.

“Why? If you finish during the day and your mom’s at work, you can just call them and get it over with. The sooner it’s in, the sooner it’s accounted for and the less chance for last-minute trauma.”
“I’ll just have my mom do it, y’know?”
“No, I don’t know…they won’t eat you. They’re very polite people–my parents actually had no dealings with them whatsoever, it was me, start to finish. You just call and say, ‘I’m so-and-so, I took this course, and I would like my transcript faxed to the guidance office of my school at this number.’”
“Why? Mom said she’ll do it. It’s no big deal.”
“It is a big deal that you will be 18 this Autumn and are too afraid to make a fucking phone call…”
“Look, I didn’t grow up as fast as you. I was babied for a while longer. If my mom is going to offer to do something for me, I’m not just gonna be like, ‘NO, Mom! Don’t. I’ll do it myself.’”
“And that’s your problem. You’ll never learn anything, that way.”

I mean, having your parents do some favors for you is fine. I’m sure it’s very nice to be able to fall back on that cushion of support that most families have. However…when you’re that close to the legal age of responsibility, you need to be able to do some things for yourself. And no, I can’t expect most 18-year-olds to be able to fully manage a household or anything…but I can expect them to be responsible for their BC and for making a simple, not-even-three-minute phone call regarding their transcript. Mommy shouldn’t have to do everything at that point. There’s no reason why they shouldn’t be able to cook for themselves or do their own laundry.

Yet, these are the same kids who want to run off with their boyfriend as soon as they turn eighteen or pull the, “I’m eighteen! I’ll do what I want!” card…

Color-Coding

Phix is configuring some server setup he’s got at his house. He’s got both his main machine and the server hooked into his monitor so he can do normal stuff while waiting for certain processes to complete on the server. He’s got separate input devices for each, though, and he keeps mixing them up depending on what he’s doing–either wrong devices for what he’s looking at or a mixture; musing:

“There’s a white keyboard and there’s a black keyboard.
There’s a black mouse and there’s a white mouse.
The white mouse and white keyboard go together…
And the black keyboard and black mouse go together.
What the FUCK don’t I get about that?”

I adore him. xD

Deplorable Habits

Fact: I am a very private restroom person.
I get enraged if someone tries to open such a door even if locked sans knocking attempts.

Some people are really comfortable in situations and leave the door open when they use the restroom. Now, obviously everyone has to use the restroom and there’s no sense in pretending that it isn’t a necessity…on that same token, however, I do not think that you should advertise when you are. Potty time is private time and does not need to be shared with anyone for any reason. Aside, you know, from small children who are learning about it and all–but that’s completely different, and aside from doctors if you’re having problems pertaining to that arena.

My mother indulges in the deplorable habit of leaving restroom doors open. Certainly, she’s gotten better over the years, but still. There’ll be times where, you know, if Dad and I are out running errands, she’ll leave it open…but then we get back, and it’s like, “Wtf is your problem. How lazy are you? It’s the flick of a foot or wrist, it isn’t like the door’s heavy.”
Really, I’m just thankful that she isn’t one of those people who wants to call you over while they’re stepping in to the WC and then want to carry on a conversation while trying to leave the door open. I personally would prefer not to converse with someone doing their business, it just doesn’t seem like the time for chat.

Although she doesn’t do that, she does have this really foul habit of being on the telephone and, if the need arises, she doesn’t just suggest that she needs to call them back or tell them she has to set the phone down for a sec., she just totes it in with her to carry on her conversation. That is so fucking gross…think of how many germs on on a phone handset as is. And not only that, how rude is that to the person on the other end of the call?

If I was on the phone with someone and in the background I heard a stream of relief, I’d get pretty annoyed/offended/disgusted. I’d definitely hang up and probably wouldn’t really have much to say to them for a bit. Wtf? You can’t even have the courtesy to set the thing down outside?

I criticize this nasty behavior at every opportunity, but it does no good, of course…perhaps if I brought it up around the few friends she’s got when they’re over she’d get the picture. And you know, it isn’t only me who’s grossed out by it. My dad thinks it’s revolting, too…but she’s uncivilized and doesn’t care. Maybe I’m a bit overly disgusted by it, but it doesn’t seem like very healthy or respectful behavior to me. I know she likes to leave doors open and invite herself into rooms without knocking, which, again, my dad speaks out against too, but that doesn’t mean that everyone is okay with that. Even if I’m in the restroom just using the mirror to pluck my eyebrows or something, I get extremely pissed off if someone would just open the door [not all the restroom doors in my home have functioning locks...which is well-known] or even try to if it was locked, if the door is closed and they don’t knock first.

Fortunately, I have a separate phone in my room [same line and all, but the handset stays down here]. :/

tres what?

Fact: I like to look like dressed myself with open eyes.
However, I do not like having my wardrobe dictated to me.

Fair to say I am not a particularly trendy person, since I spend the majority of my time sitting in front of the screen I’m watching these letters tick by on. I don’t strive to be a trendy person, nor do I strive to /avoid/ any particular trends. In my mind, both are directly having someone else dictate what you wear. That’s pretty uh…retarded.

I’m not one of those people that is obsessed with either following what’s hot in the fashion world or avoiding it with the abject fear of being–gasp–conformist! If I see something I like when I’m in the market for clothing, and it happens to fit the way I like, and it’s in my budget…I buy it. My friends comment that my shopping habits are more masculine because of this [although I'm sure that if I ever dragged Phix with me he'd still hate it because yes, I do have to try things on. I don't like having to fuss with returns!] and because I don’t have this-to-match-that, and shoes-to-go-with-this or purses or clutches or–!

Since I’m in the job market again, I figured it might be a good idea to try to obtain some business casual…stuff. Friendly’s required black slacks–which I have, obviously–and pastel polos. [Polos have gone to Goodwill. I don't wear the things, and hot fudge stains aren't really good even so.] Papaya was pretty much, “Look presentable, but essentially wear whatever.” I own one button-down, collared shirt…the rest of my wardrobe is um, jeans. Tank tops. Several t-shirts and tops that aren’t really good for work. Really, I’m just trying to find some work-appropriate blouses that aren’t in a ridiculously conspicuous print and that can probably dressed up or down. I like versatility; I like getting the most out of something.

Browsing the various online merchants at which I tend to find a piece or two I like, my eyes were met on the front page of one with this photo with the caption, “Something CHIC…”

Something CHIC indeed… [Forever 21]

Err…is this what’s all in and nice, now? Thank you very much, no, I’ll keep to my basics and not look like an ass in the name of being, uh, contemporary.

[And as far as I'm concerned, whoever decided leggings should be brought back in the name of being trendy is an idiot. Dolman-sleeved tops can be nice, when they don't look like they were sewn by a child fucking with mommy's Singer and when they're worn appropriately.]

Honestly, what’s the point of hiring a model if all she’s going to advertise is nonsense? My good sirs and ladies, if this is what is fashionable, then I am most certainly glad to have no intentional part of it! If this is what it means, please leave me out of it–I’ll continue to hunt and peck without your suggestions of what to pair with what.

Eligibility

I’ll restate that my birthday is June 30. This year, I will be eighteen. I personally can’t tell you what age people randomly peg me for, because I’m not in a position of people directly remarking, often. But I dunno, there are pictures in the Gallery and on here, so what do you think?

Jerrica, my little sister, turned six last May, and for a six year old, she’s pretty big [height-wise. she isn't fat]. The average person guesses her, from a glance, to be nine or so.

This post will really point out how big the underage motherhood problem is…I was in the supermarket with my dad and little sister and we reach the checkout lanes. While bagging the groceries, I was also minding the little one because she, as many little ones, likes to run around and cause chaos.

A little boy comes up to us, looks up at me and goes, “How old is your daughter?”

…facepalm.

“She isn’t my daughter…she’s my six year old sister,” I replied, nonplussed.
“Oh. Well where’s your mama?”
“At work…?”
He spouts some incoherent stream that ended with, “so you can’t see your daddy?”
“…er, what? Our father is there,” and I point to him, exchanging bills with the cashier.
The boy goes, “Oh!” and skitters off.

Obviously, I’m bewildered. The bad thing is that it isn’t even the first time it’s happened…so I SHOULDN’T be bewildered, but each and every time…

To put it bluntly, I was not even physically/biologically capable of getting pregnant for several months after my sister was born. She was conceived a couple months after I turned eleven, and born a month and a half before I turned twelve. I mean, obviously the public does not know this, but do I look THAT old?

No, I can’t possibly. And I don’t. It induced a momentary stroke of vanity–I have long, shapely legs, a flat stomach, thin arms, and A-cups. There’s nothing about me that suggests ever having been pregnant. I graduated high school on Friday night, for chrissakes. I’m not even eighteen!

I reflected on my family’s brief stint in Las Vegas. We’d go down to The Strip to do some shopping, etc. So, mom, dad, a two-year-old Jerrica and a fourteen-year-old me. We’d take turns pushing her stroller…mom’s fat and doesn’t walk quickly, you know, she’d lag a couple steps behind. People trying to trap tourists into bullshit with false flattery would intercept us, look at Jerrica, then at me, and go, “You have such a beautiful daughter!”
I’d look at them, disgusted and indignant; “I’m fourteen,” I’d say. “I don’t know how you’re raising your own daughters, but I was raised with a little more sense than to be spitting one out at age twelve. Don’t be so quick to assume.”
One of them looked at my father, then at me, and then at Jerrica and said, “You’ve got such a lovely little girl! Did you get hitched here, for her?” and they implied my mom was her grandmum–which offended the shit out of her, too. Don’t even try to imagine the flurry of rage I was thrown into then! My dad has a full [greying!] beard–and was 44 then–I mean, it’s only obvious that he’s marrying his fourteen year old daughter and mother to his other daughter/granddaughter. WTF. Beyond that, I very blatantly resemble my father. Both facially and in build I resemble him more than my mother. You’d have to be blind to look at us and not be like, “Obviously RELATED.” My older siblings, too, take after our father moreso than our mom(s).

It then dawned on me that, after thinking of things, “No, of course I don’t look particularly matronly. However…his idea of what a mommy looks like isn’t my idea of what a mommy looks like. He probably has family, or friends of family–or even his OWN mother–that are so young that it’s perfectly normal/acceptable to him. So it isn’t even an awkward insult, he just literally probably doesn’t know any better or differently.”

This really floors me. I know that it’s a problem, but ffs. For someone who looks as young as I do to be pegged as, “Mommy,” is outrageous! This is not, or should not be, commonplace! Goddamn people, it isn’t like contraceptives are hard to come by or generally hard to use. And if you’re one of those people who doesn’t agree with the use of them, then keep your legs closed until you’re of age, at least. If you can’t be bothered to use protection against STDs/pregnancy/what have you AND cannot deal with the consequences of these actions, then you have no goddamn business having sex, period.

Isaac’s Scholarship

I could’ve sworn I wrote about this, but I guess nothing brought it to the front of my thought after I joined the community. Six-ish months before I joined the community–so this is October of 2006–some kid at my school offed himself.

It seems that, in America at least, every time a student kills himself the entire student body rushes forth to defend his honor.

“He’s such a great friend!” people would proclaim, even though he hated them in life.
“He was very generous…” from people who barely knew his name.
“He would give you the shirt off his back!” –my personal favorite–when he’s a scummy selfish fuck.

Now, let’s get some background info on this kid…He was a player on my school’s football team [American football, ofc., not soccer]. He was also involved in violent and other crimes. At some point during that Sophomore year [of mine; it was his Senior year], he got a DUI. He was 18 at the time and already on probation–he probably still would’ve gotten a slap on the wrist, but he decided that he couldn’t deal with the consequences of his unlawful and irresponsible actions. He snatched up a gun and blew his own brains out to escape punishment.

While people who didn’t actually know him were crying, I was saying, “Good fucking riddance.” Cold? No, realistic.

Society does not /need/ people like that. If you can’t deal with the potential consequences of an action…don’t perform that action. If you are a scumbag or pussy, do society a favor! And if you’re a spineless whiner, spare the rest of us of your nonsense. If you don’t know him and you claim you do, etc., then it is not only intensely annoying, but it is extremely insulting to the family and REAL friends…at least, I think it would be.

I’m not really the type to be united with my [now former] schoolmates under the pretense of someone’s dumbassery. They had a moment of silence for the idiot…nah, sorry, I don’t think people who run from their own self-imposed problems DESERVE a moment of reverence. I don’t think, personally, that I should be bound to silence to honor some irresponsible punk [who is better off dead].

I got so sick of hearing friends of mine boo-hooing about his ‘tragedy.’ My response? A lovely little demotivational poster:

Of course it was met with feelings of warmth and joy; I had inverted it and stealthily made it evident to attendees of the school. I saw one faker get raged and shred it. Yes…I’m insensitive, but faking mourning for someone you don’t know is more offensive, imo. Like I said, it’s insulting to the people who REALLY were close to him.

Imagine my joy while perusing the program for the ceremony where it stated one of the scholarships to be presented was the, “Irish” Isaac W. Powell Scholarship.
Oh, right…we award scholarships in the name of criminals, criminals who kill themselves over a DUI. Hey, who wants to start a Columbine Scholarship with me? How about a Seung-Hui Cho Scholarship [douche responsible for the Virginia Tech shootings of April 2007]? Oh, wait, that’s not okay? Why not..