Porking My Way To My Past

Okay, before you all get your panties in a bunch over the fact that I used the term “porking” in the title of this blog, consider first what I do not mean. For one, if you were thinking I meant I was going to “pork” all kinds of people from my past, that’s obviously not going to happen because I’m married and the husband doesn’t usually look kindly on infidelity. If you are thinking I’m going to be going all Lord of the Flies on some pigs in their natural habitat, you are wrong on that as well.

No, when I say “porking my way to my past,” I mean eating. And, unfortunately, I mean a lot.

For those of you that don’t know me well enough, I grew up in Chicago. Well, the suburbs of Chicago to be precise. From my bedroom window every night, I could always see the glow of the city lights and faint outline of the buildings in the distance. Its lifestyle, its culture; everything about it made me who I am today.

This is probably why so many people hate me here in California. I am not, nor will I ever be, a California girl. We live in suburbia and I am most certainly not a suburban girl. For a few years, we lived in the LA sprawl, but this was absolutely nothing like what a real city is supposed to be. It’s just another suburb with bigger buildings, lots of smog, and more people. But more than that, no matter how often I wear flip flops and lose bits and pieces of my Chicagoan accent, I am just not a part of the Californian culture.

For one, Californians are very fast-paced people. They aren’t just fast-paced in the sense that they move quickly, but they actually cannot sit still. This is not always a good thing, though, for some of these people can’t even sit still long enough to enjoy life in the moment. I think my husband is one of these people – most of the time he has a hard time just being. He has to be doing and looking ahead, rather than looking around and seeing what we have now. Californians pride themselves on being forward-thinking people, but there are downfalls in this in the sense that they often move so fast to the future that they forget to appreciate the present. I am nothing like this at all. I think that living in the present and letting life slow down is one of the most important things a person can do for themselves.

For two, as a result of their fast-paced lifestyle, many Californians are very self-centered and judgmental people. I don’t mean this to be a negative comment, although it often comes across in a way that is a little off-putting. The majority of the Californians I have encountered act as though life in general is focused on them; and that their way of thinking is the way in which everyone should be thinking. The old stereotype of LA being comprised primarily of somewhat snobby people is true; and while there are definitely pockets of genuinely wonderful people (my friends among them), it’s sometimes hard to weed through all the narcissism.

For three, the food California has to offer is total and complete crap. I know I’m probably in the minority in thinking this, but it really is. On one side, you have an entire cadre of “authentic” ethnic foods, most of which is not really authentic in the least bit. Californians pride themselves on embracing these wonderfully exotic cultures – Brazilian for lunch (in a restaurant owned by a couple of guys from Nebraska); traditional Italian fare for dinner (again, somewhere owned by people that probably don’t even know where Italy is). All the while, California girls are embracing French couture, rambling on about how much a crepe is like a pancake, and updating their Facebook statuses with pithy cliche French phrases they saw on the side of a billboard; and California guys are shouting about drinking some cervezas. But not only is it all fake, it’s crap if you ask me. I mean it literally tastes like crap. Everything is over spiced, undercooked, and I sometimes have a hard time finding anything that doesn’t come crusted or layered with cheese. (Don’t get me wrong, a lot of food in Chicago is drowned in cheese … but it’s nothing like in California. In California it just makes no sense at all.)

Why my local Denny's ever thought putting mozzarella sticks inside a grilled cheese sandwich was a good idea, I will never understand

So in exactly two months from today, I’m going home to Chicago for my first trip in over eleven years. Don’t ask me for all the reasons why I haven’t yet been, because to be honest I’m not entirely sure myself. There were a few times I planned on going back but other things just got in the way. And recently, my ultimate misery in California has prevented me from going back because I know just how hard it will be to come back to this sprawl.

One of the things I have missed the most about Chicago (beyond the city, the friends, the family, the seasons, the Bulls, the baseball …) is the food. For all intents and purposes, I have not had a decent piece of pizza in the entire time I have been away. Same goes for hot dogs and the spaghetti; even the Mexican food in Chicago is better (irony? …I’d say so). Thus, it’s needless to say that when I do head home in two months, eating decent (and in many instances, healthier) food is on the top of the priority list. But while in some instances it is healthier – less covered in exotic cheese and spices that are currently eating a hole in my stomach – in most cases, it is a recipe for disaster – so much so that I’ve tripled my weekly trips to the gym, added a daily 15 minutes walk, and cut back another 500 calories in preparation. The last thing I want to do is turn into a blimp because my body has gotten used to not eating that much (since I really cannot stand California cuisine, yet cannot stand cooking even more). While I fully intend on porking my way to my past, I’d like to avoid that whole Simpsonian rag on stick scenario.

Next on the Homeward Bound docket: how hipsters in California have made me lose all faith in humanity.

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Profile of a Douche

By douche, I of course mean a member of the male persuasion who has a natural propensity to being an asshole.  I do not mean that thing you irrigate parts of your body with, like that Summers Eve bottle I once got caught hiding under my bed, after stealing it from my mom to see what it was and to show to my friends when I was only six.  I’m sure there are plenty of women out there that could be referred to as douches, but I will (of course) be keeping this in the context of men for a few reasons:  (1) I myself am a woman who has never come across douches other than male ones; (2) I would argue that a woman that matches these descriptions could more appropriately be coined that thing which starts with a “c” and rhymes with hunt.

A douche pays an unnecessary amount of time on his physical appearance

I have known douches that spend more time getting ready than I do – a task that is difficult, for I have no where to be and nothing other than my hair and make up to do.  A douche will not only spend a lot of time making his hair look just right, or brushing his teeth then flossing then scraping his tongue then applying hydrogen whitener then smiling at himself before finally finishing it all off with a little mouth wash and a stick of gum, he’ll also do completely asinine things like pluck his own eyebrows and wax his arm hair.  You can always tell a douche by the amount of body hair he has – the less there can be found, the douchier he is.  I fully expect that dick-rag The Situation to have not a lick of hair on his entire body.

A douche uses retarded buzz words and doubles them up

You can always tell a douche is in the room when you hear someone repeating all of the words he says.  “Cool cool” is a good example, another is “ay-ight ay-ight.”  A douche always uses buzz words that are retarded and make no sense too.  As much as I loved Swingers, “money” is a buzz word I still have yet to grasp.  So is “tight,” as well as “brah.”  Any combination or repetition is walking a fine line into complete douche territory.

A douche always has super-douchey bumper stickers

Douches invariably have the most tasteless, hillbilly-esque, bumper stickers on the back of their Hummers/pick up trucks.  The one I like to steer clear of the most is the image of innocent, little Calvin (from Calvin and Hobbes) pissing on something that the douche bag doesn’t like.  Sometimes it’s another car logo, other times it’s something really inflammatory like a cross – in any event, douches always have these types of bumper stickers on their cars.  The others usually involve guns, red meat, and Ford products.

A douche will always blame his problems on someone else

This is one of the most douchiest things a douche can do, and they do it all the time.  Unable to admit he has any faults of his own, the douche will always look for other people to blame for every, single, cotton-picking thing wrong in his life.  It’s so obnoxious to hear a douche go off on a rail about everyone else’s part in his shortcomings.  The ones I like the best are when there is literally no way that someone else could be to blame, like in the case of the size of a douche’s member.  Douches will blame their impotency on the women in their life too – this is possibly the most classic symptom of being a douche.  I read on a blog a while ago “if a guy can’t get his dick up it’s because their’s something wrong with his dick, not with you.”  Truer words were never spoken – but a douche won’t be able to accept that and will always try to blame someone else.

A douche will be only focused on himself

Have you ever gone on Facebook and seen douches and cunext-times commenting on another person’s joyous status, only talking all about themselves?  God that really pisses me off.  “Hey Ken, congrats on the new job!  You know I have been working in my new job for about a month now, doing really well and just got promoted!”  “OMG LOL I was just saying that everyone is having babies like we did!  Good for you!”  If you can’t congratulate people without turning into being all about you, shut the fuck up douche!  It goes beyond that, though, because a douche will always prioritize his own priorities way above you, even though (in a lot of cases) you should be his priority.  Particularly relevant in relationships, a douche will constantly remind you of the things that are far more important to him than anything you have to say – it is the proverbial talking at a wall.

A douche will almost always have some sort of overblown thing, like muscles or cars

Typically, this is because the douche is compensating for the fact that his penis is way too small to even be seen with a microscope, or because his balls are still located in the purse of his ex-girlfriend.  A douche will typically be seen with big obsessions which are maxed out as much as possible, be it in working out (big muscles, obsessed with his muscles, kisses his muscles), cars (lots of cars, works on cars all the time, reads about nothing but cars), etc.  I dated a guy in high school once that hit up GNC every Tuesday for their muscle milk and creatine specials, and whenever he put his arms around me it was clear that he was trying to flex me to death so I wouldn’t notice the unreasonably tiny twig-like thing poking into my back.  And in the end like the most of them, he was most certainly a douche.

A douche likes to get into fights

There is nothing about a fight that makes anything about you bigger.  This includes (but is not limited to):  your muscles, your ego, your pride, your head, your penis, your balls, or any other thing the douche may think gets bigger as a result of getting into a fight.  And yet, douches do it all the time.  Those whack ass guidos on Jersey Shore are constantly getting into fights – it’s as though they cannot even stop themselves.  There is always a more peaceful way to stand up for your girl, get back at that loser that is hitting on your woman, or defend the honor of your schwanz.

If you, or anyone you know, fits into more than a few of these qualities, doucheness may be what we have at hand.  Reassess the situation and (if it is you) possibly consider a career as a cast member of Jersey Shore.

 

 

What It Implies When You Have No Profile Picture

DISCLAIMER:  This post is sure to offend anyone and everyone, and quite frankly I don’t care.  I’ve been storing this one in the deepest, darkest caverns of my brain for quite a while now and it has to get out.

We’ve all seen this.  Many of us may even have a contact with this for their  profile picture on Facebook, LinkedIN, Myspace (I know … who still uses Myspace?), Meetup, or any of the other hundreds of social network sites out there.  When a person chooses to not have a profile picture on any given online profile, they are suggesting a few very specific things about themselves, all of which are the antithesis of being “social”:

#1  It implies you feel you are horrible to look at.

I told you this might be offensive, but ultimately when someone does not have a profile photo on Facebook or LinkedIN (or whatever), an initial (and terribly material) assumption is that the person thinks of him or herself as being less than attractive.  Maybe you’re a woman with a full beard; possibly you’re a man for whom the size of your entire face is roughly 1/8th the size of your nose.  Perhaps you are just like the rest of us going into our thirties and wondering when, exactly, the break-outs are actually going to stop.  To not have a photo of some kind on your profile, though, suggests that you have something you want to hide.  I think this would apply much more to a dating site, and in fact I recently saw an article suggesting that if a person has no or waist-up-only photo of themselves on eHarmony, Match, etc., that they will usually be passed for fear that they will break every mirror in your house.  It’s still true, faithful blog followers:  we live in a material world and are all a bunch of material girls.

#2  It further implies that if you are not horrible to look at, you are terribly narcissistic and paranoid.

Here is something one of my family members recently said to me in regards to his choice to have no profile photo on his Meetup.com homepage:  “I don’t want all kinds of perverts and predators looking at my picture; the last thing I need is a stranger getting off on my photo.”  Let’s first give you a mental picture of this family member:  he is in his mid-50s, roughly 250 lbs, generally wears khaki shorts and flannels everywhere he goes, and spends the majority of his time drinking Coors, playing video poker, and scratching his unkempt mustache.  So my first response to this is that he should be so lucky to have anyone looking at his photographs online obsessively with the fires of lust burning below the keyboard.  My second is simply:  how, exactly, would complete strangers swooning over your oh-so-debonair picture affect you anyway?  Lastly, this reeks of a paranoid narcissism; as if the entire world is out to find pictures of you, not to mention they are all looking for those pictures to lust after you.  With over 800 million people on Facebook alone, not including the number of people on any number of the 200 or more social and dating networks out there, I have a hard time believing many people are intentionally sought out to be the victims of pervs anymore.  There’s free pornography for that.

Anyone who legitimately fits into #s 1 or 2 (as in, they actually do not post profile photos of themselves for one or both of these reasons) needs to be smacked in the face and told to get over themselves.  And in fact, of the people I know who do not post photographs of themselves on their online profiles, many of them refrain from doing so for reasons similar to these.  There are a few more things that the vacant slot in the photograph slot suggests, though:

#3  You are too goddamn inept to figure out how to upload a jpeg.  Very possibly you do not even know what a jpeg is.

#4  You are too goddamn inept to even log in to your profile page again after signing up.  

#5  You think you are above social networking and online living, despite the fact that it has been credited as being essential for living (and working) in the 21st century.  (I really hate these pompous assholes.  I really, really do.)

#6  You really and truly believe that you are too busy to scour through your millions of digital photographs for that perfect shot that captures who you are.  For Christ’s sakes, if anyone on the social network thought this much about their profile picture, the world would have a dearth of crappy, fuzzy, and poorly taken (read: camera phone pointed at mirror, tilted sideways) pictures for us all to make fun of.  Get over yourselves, you aren’t too busy to snap a picture and upload it.  No episode of Dancing With the Stars is that thought-consuming.

Shall I continue?  I think you get the point.  Having no profile photograph at all is just plain obnoxious, and it implies quite a bit about you that me-thinks you’d rather not have implied.  Now, I’m not saying that this is necessarily what the case may be when a person chooses to go photo-less; but it most certainly is what us ignorant underlings of Lord Zuckerberg and his buddies over at Google, LinkedIN, et all have conditioned us to assume.

Next up on the docket?  Keep Your Kid’s Diapers Off Facebook

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I’m a loser, baby

If you’re like me, any thought of the 90s is immediately accompanied by a music flashback to Beck’s Loser.  I have many-a-fond memories of kicking back in high school and loving Beck more than life, itself.  Like many other teens during the dawn of teen angst, that song was my battle cry; and very likely, I was just as much a loser as the next kid.

So it should come as no surprise, then, that even hearing or reading about losers harkens me back to that song of my youth.  This morning, reading Darren Hardy’s How to Be a Loser blog post was no different.  The publisher of SUCCESS magazine, Hardy blogged with intention to look at what makes a loser from a satirical standpoint … a guide, so to speak, to becoming one of those many people walking around with the big L dangling from their forehead.

The thing about Hardy’s blog is that, while it raises some excellent points, it also is a bit too general to hit the mark on each point.  In one instance, Hardy says you can make yourself a loser by never setting goals and only taking things day by day.  Sure, this may be true in some instances, but it is so general and does not necessarily apply to everyone.  There is such a thing as getting too out of control with your goals; and for some going through major life issues (marriage, divorce, new baby, death in the family) day-by-day is the only way to survive.  Ultimately, I think the blog would have been more effective if Hardy had gone with a straight-forward approach; his backhanded way of talking about loserdome just doesn’t jive with the advise he is trying to give.

Beyond that, though, I think the idea of how to be a loser is still a good one.  This week has been all about balance:  the healthy way to live life to its fullest.  With that and Hardy’s blog post in mind, I decided to create my own list of ways to be a loser.

I’m a loser, baby #1:  

Lose sight of happiness in the name of undefinable goals

We all know someone that has done this.  Rather than let themselves live in the present, they are so far in the future and/or the past that they can’t even tell you what they are feeling right now, let alone whether or not they are happy.  And in many cases, they come to the end of the rope only to realize that everything they gave up was not worth it.  Goals and plans are important, but there is something to be said for being both emotionally and physically present in the now.  And hey:  you never know what could happen – you could leave for work tomorrow and get hit by a truck.  Laying on the concrete, dying, will you regret not having savored life now at least once in a while?

I’m a loser, baby #2:  

Always eliminate people and things from your life that deviate from the way you are

It is astonishing sometimes to hear people say that they broke up with someone because they saw things differently, or that they decided to give up certain things in their life because it got in the way with what was most important to them:  them.  Yesterday we talked about things the world doesn’t stop for... I’ve got news for you, faithful blog followers, you are included in that list of things.  Life is about both a give and a take; and the truth to the matter is there is not one person or thing on this planet that will see entirely eye-to-eye with you.  Some (myself included) might even go as far as to say that people who are much different than you are good in the sense that they offer a more well-rounded view of your otherwise closed circuit life.

I’m a loser, baby #3:  

Never take risks.  Ever.

I recently read Eric Sevareid’s “Canoeing with the Cree,” which is a true memoir about a 2250 mile canoeing trip up the Missouri River into Canada.  The trip took place in the 1930s and had never been done before, let alone by two 18 year olds, fresh out of high school.  The main focus of discussion at my book club (which the book was read for) was focused on this idea of risks:  that we do not take risks anymore, be it physical or emotional risks, like they did less than a century ago.  Life is about continual leaps of faith, and to think of anything as a safe venture is just foolish.

I’m a loser, baby #4:  

Don’t keep things in perspective

Ever talk to someone that blows everything so far out of proportion, and gets so caught up in the “what if”s and “I assume”s of the situation that it makes you want to stick a piece of dynamite in your ear and make your own head explode before they get a chance to do it with their incessant blathering?  This can go a lot of ways.  One is in the case of the overachieving idealist.  Sure, it’s great to have ideals and forward-thinking ways of living; but it’s another thing to not look at the situation realistically and pragmatically.  Another is in the case of someone that acts as though a minor event is the absolute end of the world.  It’s not, bitch.  Get some perspective.

I’m a loser, baby #5:  

Constantly blame other people for your problems

There are certainly a lot of things out of your control; just as a lot of times people around you influence you to do things you may have otherwise not done.  But enough with the blame-game, loser.  Nothing is more annoying than someone that cannot take responsibility for any of his or her actions; especially when they go as far as to suggest a change in the way things happened, or put words in people’s mouths or assign intentions in people’s minds.  Chances are, unless you are 15 years old or a complete douche, you were at least 80% responsible for the situation you are blaming others for.

Am I a loser, baby?  Some people might say I am.  I certainly try and avoid the five scenarios above, and in fact, I generally try and live by (at least most of) Hardy’s list too.  But then it takes one to know one, doesn’t it?

The World Does Not Stop…

I’m not quite sure why this has happened, but more and more it seems that people have this weird idea that the world stops just because [fill in the blank] has happened to them.  To be honest (and I’m sure this will annoy some of you closest to me), it really makes me pause and question just where our heads are.  Sad to say, I think they are on (ahem, in) the wrong end.

So to help us all get those proverbial heads out of our real-life asses, I’ve decided to make a list of things that the world does not stop for.  The point is not only to advocate for a healthier, less egocentric viewpoint (typical of the misanthropic vein of this blog); but more importantly to harken back to the idea of happy and healthy balance that we discussed yesterday.  There is hope for everyone, and there is no room for “well everyone has different priorities…”  So with that in mind:

The world does not stop … because you are having a baby.  Remember that first blog on this new site about the tendency people have now to act like they are the first people on the planet to have a baby?  Well, you aren’t … and the world does not stop for that very reason.

The world does not stop … because you have a big project going on at work.  This one hits really close to home for me.  While I know that in a trying economy, employees want to bend over backwards to please their employers or open new career paths, there still must be a balance to make sure you do not hurt your entire life in the process.  If you cannot have that balance, you either need to find a new job or consider whether it is the best time in your life to take on that extra level of responsibility.  Just because you are working 24/7 does not mean that bills can go unpaid, kids can go uncared for, prior commitments can be canceled, and relationships outside of work can just set to autopilot.  That just isn’t the case.

The world does not stop … because you are planning a big event.  It could be a wedding; it could be a baby shower.  In any event, as important as that big event seems to you, a lot of people around you don’t care.  Remember with friends, family, and coworkers to talk about things they are interested in; and give them a chance to talk about their big things too.

The world does not stop … because your girlfriend/boyfriend dumped you.  Get over it:  there are plenty of fish in the sea, right?  Just because your girlfriend/boyfriend couldn’t take your snoring/feet/body hair anymore, doesn’t mean life around you ceases to continue.  Marriage is a much different story, but as for kiddie-type relationships that probably never went further than first base, try and move on.

The world does not stop … because your favorite TV show/sporting event is on.  God is there nothing more annoying than someone who will blow off an important phone call because of Dancing With the Stars; or someone that spends an entire dinner watching the baseball game showing on the big screen behind them.  Invest in a DVR if it’s that important to you.

The world does not stop … because you walked in the room.  More accurately, I should probably say “… because you got on the freeway.”  These people that act like they own the road (when the rules of it generally mandate that we should all be sharing …) really have gotten bad.  It starts with those people that do not realize they are supposed to yield to traffic when they are entering the freeway; and is capped off with those that change lanes without even looking.

The world does not stop … because you are on the rag.  Yep, I did just say that.  What a terribly sexist thing for me to say; but I’m a woman and I can say with absolute certainty that the worst thing ever is a woman that thinks the world is supposed to bow to her because she has cramps and a foul attitude.  It goes for men too (because they do, in fact, go through monthly hormonal fluctuations just like women); so perhaps I could soften it to “… because you are in a bad mood.”  However it’s phrased, take note.

 

The list could go on, but you, faithful blog followers, get the point.  Head-in-ass-syndrome could very well be substituted for “egocentric” or “narcissistic personality disorder.”  There is a healthier, balanced way to live life than you are.  Wise up and realize that the world does not stop for anything.

What I will do if your kid screams in my face or hits me again …

Long title, eh?  Almost as long as my day.

Today was another one of marathon activities:  swim class, bubble baths, errands, art classes, and a puppet show at the library.  All these activities, of course, meant being around a lot of little, screaming children.  Now, I’m all for kids having a good time, and I know that at some of these things you should expect there to be at least a few obnoxious kids around – but sometimes parents are … how do I say this … too hands off.  It’s as if the parents think they bring their kids to something in a public place and they no longer have to monitor their behavior.

Photo credit Adventures of El Destructo

Well, I’ve got news for you ladies (and sometimes men):  your kids are brats.  Not all of them – some are polite, saying “excuse me” and “please and thank you” when they should.  But today none of those nice kids were out.

My day began at the public swimming pool, where I desperately tried to squeeze in thirty minutes of writing while I waited for swimming class to end.  About ten minutes in a woman and her four kids showed up and the children began jumping and screaming on the very bench I was sitting on.  It didn’t stop there, though:  one of the kids actually started screaming and spitting in my face.  When I asked the woman to get her unruly children under control, she told me that (being that it was a public pool and all), I could move if I didn’t like it – they had a right to harass me like that.

No ma’am.  No they don’t.

The fun continued later on when I made the mistake of packing the family in the car and heading to the public library where a summer program puppet show was being held.  Screaming children were everywhere, walking in front of each other and blocking the views of the more well-behaved kids.  The worst, though, was that there was a long line and tickets to get in.  We waited, and waited, and waited, and suddenly three mothers with four kids (each) walked in front of us and got in line with a friend, with her own cadre of brats, that was right in front of us saving a place.  Again, if it were no more than a couple of people she was saving a place for, that would have been one thing.  But fifteen additional bodies packing into the spot in line right before us?  They acted as if they were entitled to take the place in front of us in line.  At the high point of the event, one of the kids stepped on my foot and then looked up and stuck out his tongue – his mother then too busy gabbing with her friends to pay much attention.

I really hate it when I see other people disciplining children that are not theirs.  It really just isn’t their place.  But when I am in a public place and a kid’s parents are not acting like … well, parents … I can now see why the gloves come off.  Just as the woman’s kids at the public swimming pool had the right to play however they wanted at the pool, by virtue of the fact that the pool was public, I and my family have just as much of a right to not be impacted by such blatantly self-centered and outright rude behavior.

So here’s the deal, parents that are wrapped so tightly around their kid’s fingers that they really think bad behavior (by objective standards) is okay, here’s what I will do to your kid if he screams or spits in my face again:  I’ll scream and spit back, and believe you me I have twenty years of yelling on your child.

Photo credit dreamchildmethod.com

And for those of you that really believe it is okay for your kid to run wild whilst you stand by and chit-chat with your friends, pretending that nothing is going on, occasionally muttering “kids will be kids,” your child will not be exempt just because you are too ignorant and self-absorbed to pay attention.  If your kid steps on my foot intentionally, smashes into me, hits me, or does anything else to cause me (or my family) bodily harm, I will break out the spanking-hand and show you how to be a parent.

Those of you that know me know that I would never actually hit anyone, and I actually (while I may be pretty loud and swear a lot) don’t believe in screaming or spanking.  But the truth to the matter is that my parents and my parent’s parents would have never tolerated the type of behavior that is tolerated now.  What has happened to basic discipline, respect, common courtesy, and instilling in children an idea of who has the authority and who is to abide by the rules?  Sure, screaming and spanking probably got a little out of control, which is why such a backlash came up against it towards the late 90s.  But the pacified, hands-off approach to parenting that replaced it is making a situation far worse than a kid with a temporary sore bottom ever was.  It’s time for parents to start acting like … well, parents.

And to the line-cutters, the ignorers, and the people who think they are entitled to encroach on other people’s space:  stop teaching your kid to be as obnoxious as you.  Because if you don’t, one day someone won’t just blog about wanting to spank and scream at your kid, they’ll actually do it.

Dear Grocery Store Lady,

The following is an open letter to that annoying bitch that is always at the grocery store when I am there.  She occasionally is old, sometimes young; she always pisses me off.  If you are her, please take note.

Dear Grocery Store Lady,

Our unfortunate acquaintance began each time you cut me off while I was politely waiting for that big S.U.V. to pull out of the parking spot I intended on pulling in to.  Flipping me off and acting as if you were entitled to the spot was probably unnecessary.  I noticed you had one of those ‘Coexist’ stickers on the back of your station wagon, which is ironic given the fact that you clearly have no idea how to coexist with anyone.

It never fails that when I then park about three blocks from the grocery store, in the only other space available, and make my way into the store trying to forget you, you make this impossible for me.  As I walk into the store, you are always blocking the entire doorway with your cart as you read through the sale ads and tear coupons from the ad, as you clearly lack the forethought to do this at home before coming in.  Ma’am, some of us do have places we need to be.  If you could get your big, coupon-clipping ass out of the way, we would all greatly appreciate it.

Then there was that time I was in the cereal aisle, deciding what cereals I wanted to pick for the week and you smashed your cart into me, ripping the skin from my ankle.  One time you actually pushed me.  I know there is only a short period in which the free samples of Jimmy Dean’s newest chocolate chip ‘Pancakes and Sausage on a stick’ will be available for sampling in the meat department, but if you could please stop abusing me while I shop I would greatly appreciate it.  Or, you could at least say you are sorry (which you never have).

I really enjoy standing in line, hearing you ramble on and on, and on, about Uncle Tim’s hemorrhoid flare up, and how everyone thinks your daughter is going to be discovered by a modeling agency any day now, but if you could keep your loud, stupid, and obnoxious cellular phone conversations out of the grocery store, we would all appreciate it.

…. and on the note of standing in line, ma’am, “15 Items Or Less” does not mean 15 categories.  Doughnuts, pound cake, Oreo cookies, and double-chocolate fudge brownies do not count as one item, just because they all fall under the “things that attach themselves to your ass” category.  Please be a little more considerate of those of us that actually only have fifteen items.

That about sums up our relationship, dearest Grocery Store Lady.  Contrary to your wholly egotistical viewpoint, you are not entitled to my parking place, nor are you the only person trying to wedge their way through the door.  Common courtesy does exist, even in the universe which revolves itself around you.  And no matter how you try and sweet talk your way into it, your 143 items really don’t belong in the Express Lane.  I hope your doughnuts and Oreo cookies, and your Jimmy Dean’s chocolate chip ‘Pancakes and Sausage on a stick,’ really do attach themselves to your ass.

Sincerely,

Fellow Shopper