PLEASE: No Outside Food, Turn Off Your Cellphones, Silence Your Assholes

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Those of you that know me, or have been reading this blog for a while, know that I am not a fan of flatus jokes.

You know what I’m talking about. I’m sure you make them all the time. Maybe you post comics on Facebook about blowing them under the covers; or you tell jokes about your husband ripping them in the privacy of an intimate 20-30 person family party.

Then again maybe you are more comfortable with the wind that comes from the assholes of everyone. Perhaps you are like that woman that I saw once – years ago – on Lifetime’s Wife Swap reruns. She would pass her horrifying (and quite frankly excessive for a woman,  in my opinion) gas into empty plastic bottles, then close the bottles to PRESERVE THE SCENT TO EXPOSE TO HER CHILDREN AS A JOKE LATER IN THE DAY.

Yes. You just read what I wrote. Be afraid. Be very, very afraid.

My husband sometimes is the worst because he does not say what all men should say in the presence of a fucking lady, such as myself – “excuse me.” Or even “sorry.” Every once in a while I get up and walk out of the room, screaming as I go like the stark-raving lunatic that I am, something along the lines of: “why don’t you just drop your pants and take a shit in front of me while you’re at it!” Other times I say nothing because I’m fairly certain he would if he thought I wouldn’t mind.

It comes from his dad. Sometimes I think he (my father-in-law) tears the lining of his asshole, he just does it so much and so violently. Violently, like bring in the SWAT guys with the protest beating sticks-violently. Then he’s proud of it. He’ll try and waft it around the room (as if this is even possible) with his hands, then he’ll do it again only that time you think it might be time to call a doctor, or possibly even 9-1-1.

My mother-in-law gets pretty mad about it sometimes too, about as mad as I do towards my husband. You see how this goes.

A few years ago I was in the post office and this lady leaned over the counter, grunting and looking to be in a considerable amount of pain. I almost went over to ask if she was OK; though I’m glad I didn’t. It turned out she just needed to get some wind out herself. I blogged about that, so you’re welcome to read about it HERE if you want.

But first…

As I said, I am not a fan of gas jokes. The F-A-R-T word is NOT allowed in our house. I just think it’s crude and disgusting, and sure I get that everyone does it. But everyone takes a shit on a regular basis too, are we doing that publicly as well? No. No we are not. (At least the majority of us…the others, well you know who you are…) It is not and never will be socially acceptable, in fact I’m pretty sure if I were to drop my pants and take a dump in the middle of the grocery store I would very likely be assumed mentally ill. Even if I didn’t drop my pants but still took a dump while in the butter aisle of my local Vons, things would not go over very well. Why then can people putter around the store as though there’s a trombone festival coming out of their assholes while they pick out their Rice A Roni and applesauce?

You get my point. I’m not a fan of talking about these things. Or witnessing them – especially witnessing them.

UntitledYou can all imagine then my shock and horror, and absolute disgust, when I was sitting in a waiting room and this man sitting there waiting for his appointment kept blowing them over and over, and over again. I was waiting for my daughter, who was dealing with her jerk father in Texas (who has ironically taken a shit publicly in a box and put it in a coworker’s locker, but we’ll save that one for another blog post some other time…).

For forty minutes, or so, I waited with this gassy man and his anus.

It wasn’t even just that. He was sitting there on his computer. A laptop. Tip-typing away, while I read on my Kindle, waiting. He just tip-typed and I knew I had seen him there before. Worse, I will very likely have to face him again. We were just sitting there, then all of a sudden he would blow one. It sounded something like a very long, very slow, trumpet. Then he’d laugh and say “sorry” out loud (at least he apologized, I suppose); but never once did he look up from his typing.

And I say never once because it happened again, the same way. Very long, very slow trumpet. Followed by a “sorry” and continuing to type. Then it happened again, and again, and then another time – until it had been a total of NINETEEN TIMES that this guy had blown his butt bugle slowly, without looking up or getting up to – oh, I don’t know – deal with whatever was going on with his intestines that required him to blow so much air out of them in a relatively public place.

It was just awful.

There’s a sign in the waiting room that says “please no outside food, turn off your cellphones.” This is – quite obviously – for the courtesy of all the rest of us that are sitting there and may or may not be interested in smelling your day-old Chipotle burrito; and/or listening to a loud conversation you have on your cellphone with your Aunt Mable about your cousin Jimmy knocking up his step-sister. I feel like they should add another thing on there. For the goodness of humanity and – at the very least – my sanity.

Because the next time that guy does something like that, I may just do something crazy. Like drop my pants and pee in the artificial tree in the corner of the room, just to show this guy how much fun it is to witness another person’s bodily functions to such a magnanimous degree.

Then again something tells me he might enjoy it.

Flatus

…I know… so much to wrap your minds around on this one. Perhaps this video of a deer in the woods with its own wind-related issues will help you get over this post. Now may we never speak of any of this again.

New Years Countdown Series, Day 2: a Resolution You SHOULD Make

Actually there are really TWO resolutions you should make, the first and very real being more generosity to the poor. The world economy is in a shit-tank, with over 80% of the world’s population living on far less than $10 a day. Only 20% of homeless people in the United States are actually mentally ill or suffering from alcoholism, so get your head out of your ass and stop justifying your stinginess by saying “they’ll just use my money at the liquor store anyway.” Just one day next year (hopefully more), resolve to give up your Starbucks and pass the $5 over to someone with an In Need sign. And if you really and truly believe they are all a bunch of degenerate and ungrateful hobos, rather than give money just get a few extra nonperishable grocery items next time you are at the store and drop them off on your way out. I promise you, they will be grateful.

Off my soap box, let’s get to the one resolution you really SHOULD actually make this year. I know this makes me a total hypocrite, because for the last few days I have done nothing but rip New Years Resolutions and their makers up one side and down the other, but while out to lunch today I realized what everyone should resolve to this next year FOR REALS:

You piggish mother fuckers should resolve to be less slovenly and sloppy while out to eat in the coming year.

I don’t know if it’s that a lot of people are off work and out and about this week, or that I’m going to the wrong places … but today was an all-star day in terms of people that made me lose my appetite while eating in a public venue. To be specific, there were four.

#1 Smell man and his noseless girlfriend were the first to make my gag reflex go – and it was only in the beginning while we were ordering our drinks. Sitting in the booth right next to us (directly behind my father, who is just as bitchy and blunt as I am) sat a man and his girlfriend who appeared to have a nose, but I’m fairly certain was just wearing a prosthetic implant. For if she had a nose she could have smelled this guy and been repulsed, rather than what she was doing – which was sucking face with him in such a way that I saw saliva dribble onto the booth below them. At one point, I thought that the smell man was trying to swallow the girl without a nose whole, but then they eventually stopped and got up to leave only for me to get a good waft of the fact that he clearly had not showered in days.

Now, I’m not one to judge people for unscently body odor. I myself have forgotten to put on deodorant on occasion, or not had time to brush my teeth so resorted to gum. But at some point, you have to ask yourself: am I offending others with my stench? Should I get this checked out by a physician? Would just carrying some stick deodorant in my car help out?

#2 Snotdude brought in the waitress to take our orders and to bring the cup of chicken soup that came with my meal. This is actually one of my pet peeves that I have thought about blogging on before – when people do that horrible inhaling of their snot so loudly and moistly that you know a huge loogey is either about to fly out their mouth or trickle down the back of their throat. In case you aren’t sure what I’m talking about, here’s a 23 second video of an Asian broad sucking it in like this fucking morbidly obese asshole did for a good portion of the time we were eating today:

Again, I can be understanding of someone that has a cold or allergies. But I’m allergic to everything and have a constant faucet of phlegm dribbling from my body – I think I might even be allergic to myself at this point and I don’t even do this. It’s horrifying – absolutely horrifying – to eat your chicken soup with a side of snot.

#3 Some old guy belching his name repeatedly came along just in time for one of the cooks to bring out our food. At this point you are probably thinking to yourself – what the fuck, was she eating at an Arby’s in the deep South? No, no… I was eating in what is generally considered to be a descent place (best pancakes in the country says Esquire magazine) and further someplace my dad and I meet at for lunch often.

At first I thought I was hearing things because the guy was sitting with what appeared to be his grandson and it just sounded like an accidental burp in which the man said the word “burp” while doing it. But a few minutes later, as I was biting into my BLT and thanking God that Smell Man and Snotdude had vacated the premises, an excessively audible belch was emitted from the same old guy, this time the word “Daryl” clearly included. He did it six more times before we left.

#4 And as if the experience could not have been any more revolting, as we walked out a Breastfeeder had popped out her tit to feed her screaming infant. Now before you get all crazy on me and start commenting in fury about how breastfeeding is a woman’s right and a beautiful thing, and how nothing but passionate flowers and exotic dairy come out of the lady’s tits, let me say a few things. First, shut the fuck up. Nothing is more annoying than one of these “breastfeeding is the most beautiful thing and a woman’s right in public”-people. Shut the fuck up. SHUT IT! Second, I don’t actually see anything wrong with breastfeeding in public, as long as it is done discreetly under a blanket or a breastfeeding bib. Third, if you choose not to use a blanket or bib, all bets are off.

If you choose to breastfeed in public but don’t use a blanket or bib, you are a fucking asshole and a public nudist. I’m not sure if I have told you all this story before, but quite a few months ago a woman sprayed me with her boob juice in a restaurant – a little drop of a complete stranger’s bodily fluids landing on my hand, forced to rest there until I was able to get it off in the bathroom. I get that a lot of people believe breastfeeding to be an awesome, beautiful, and natural thing – but there are a lot of things that others think are awesome, beautiful, and natural yet don’t do so openly in public out of respect for others (and in some cases, the law).

But if a woman breastfeeds publicly and in such a way that the entire world is now familiar with every crevice, crease, and montgomery gland on the woman’s nipple, why does she not get cited for public nudity like I would were I to – say – just take off my shirt and sit there with my boobs hanging out? Today I wouldn’t have minded doing that – it was a little warm in the booth and sometimes it’s nice to let my upper body breath. The biggest proponents of breastfeeding argue that “feeding your baby is vital for your baby’s survival.” Okay, sure – but there are bottles that your pumped milk can go into or breastfeeding bibs that can cover that shit up to be respectful of the eyesight and feelings of others, and to avoid any of your boob juice squirting on them as they walk by.

As with everything, there is a happy medium. Here’s a counterexample: allowing one’s bowels to move in a timely manner is also “… vital for … survival” but that doesn’t mean anyone and everyone can just pull down their pants and take a squat anywhere they want – right in the middle of public, where it can be seen and gotten all over everyone that passes by! And if I can rant one more second – the bull shit that women not breastfeeding because of the public’s view of doing it in public is just complete nonsense. There are so many options out there – most importantly, pumping and bottle-feeding in a public setting. There are plenty of times families use a bottle at home, why the fuck can’t they do it when they go out too? Oh I know, because it’s about proving a point and exposing your titties for the world to see.

But I digress…

The bottom line in all of this is that these people are all slobs – slovenly, lazy slobs. Smell man is too lazy to shower or use deodorant. Snotdude is too busy porking down his extra side of home fries to get up and blow his nose in the bathroom. Belching grandpa was just a pig, and breastfeeding tittie lady just didn’t want to be bothered with covering the kid with a blanket. If you have to go the incorrigible route and make a New Years Resolution this year, faithful blog followers, resolve to be less of a lazy fuck of a slob. Please … my appetite will thank you!

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.