Saying The Things You Shouldn’t Say

I’ve been accused more than once of being unedited. Hell, I’ve even been fired from a job for writing the things I was thinking in my head. Sometimes, I just get really tired of people not saying what they’re thinking, so I will be the one. Sadly, by the end of this post, I may come off as a huge bitch. But sometimes a long bout of holding in what I’m actually thinking results in a bad case of virtual verbal diarrhea.

People be having some UGLY babies- Am I the only one who thinks all these babies people are having on Facebook aren’t as cute as they should be? Let me be clear- the premature ones don’t count, because they just wanted to hop outta the oven before it was time. I’m talking about all the other ones. And when people keep commenting, “Oh, I’m so happy for you, your baby is adorable!” and “What a cutie!”, I just want to comment too (in a Spanish accent, of course), and say, “You keep using those words. I do not think they mean what you think they mean.” I know people don’t have control over what their kid looks like, but GEEZ, I don’t think I want one if the majority of them look like Gollum.

If you’re completely miserable with your spouse, or boyfriend/girlfriend, be done with them- This may seem harsh, and if you have children with this person, it’s a bit harder situation to get out of, but no amount of drinking or bickering or pretending is going to do any good for your kids. Yes, marriage is supposed to be a life-long commitment, but there are just some people who were silly enough to marry someone they didn’t like very much, with the idea, “Hey, it’s ok. I’ll just go out with my friends a lot and drink to drown the fact that my wife/ husband is a complete bitch/ asshole.”  Well, enjoy your perfectly pretended life. As for you all who are not married to your asshole, dump him/her immediately. And no, I am not going to be the person to make your life better with amazing sex, because I am smart enough to be with someone who does NOT annoy the shit outta me.

That chic shouldn’t be wearing that/ or SHOULD be wearing that- sometimes people shouldn’t clothe themselves the way they do. Yes, I’ve preached tirelessly about fat people in stretchy pants, but I am also including here the sermon about skinny girls with love handles who continuously wear low-rise jeans. Just ’cause you ain’t got no cushion for the pushin’ don’t mean that you’re toned. As evidenced by the cellulite once sported by my size 00 ex-sister-in-law. And Miley, put some damn clothes on, already. Yes, we get it. You’re edgy and controversial. Or suffering from multiple drug addictions.

Kids are sometimes not your entire world- I realize that since I have borne no offspring from my loins, I cannot fully understand how a child changes you and makes you devote your entire being to them; however, I have known enough people who have little to no patience for their humanoid cubs, and would rather be out partying with their friends. I know that no parent is suppose to come out and say, “I’d like a day off”, but I urge each and every one of you to realize that it’s ok to admit parenting is at times a trying and monotonous task, and is sometimes best replaced with a stripper pole and a shot of whisky. This doesn’t mean you love your children any less, it just means you have not joined the Stepford community.

Why don’t we let educated people into America?- I realize Lady Liberty is all about giving refuge to the starving and the destitute, but wouldn’t our country benefit a little by letting in someone who is not hungry and can actually support themselves? Instead of giving a bunch of monetary support to people who don’t even bother to learn our language, why don’t we give free visas to people who ALREADY know our language and have their own money? I’m not being prejudiced. The uneducated are welcome too, but they should be given the same opportunity as I- that is, the opportunity of working more than one job just to make sure I don’t have to move to Florida in order to sleep outside and not freeze to death because I am homeless.

 

Musical Distraction

So HR Nightmare gave me a blog post idea because he didn’t think I’d be able to do anything with it. The idea was to write about music in relation to moods and the way it changes a person’s moods. This may veer a little off course, but here you go.

I love music. I could spend all day singing along to songs I know, and trying to emulate the people that sing them. I attempt with all that is in me to hit the perfect pitch of squealing when singing “Hee-Hoo!” like Michael Jackson. Celtic Woman is a bit harder, but I straighten my back and stick out my boobies to maintain perfect singing posture when belting out, She Moved Through the Fair. I grow increasingly irritated when, after repeated attempts, I fail to reach the notes sung by Martina Mcbride in A Broken Wing.

The reaction my father has to music that cannot be played in churches is quite humorous and ridiculous. I seem to recall at my wedding to my ex, the strains of Alan Jackson’s “It Must Be” love filtered out of the DJ’s speakers and into my father’s ears. His reaction was to cover his ears and shake uncontrollably as though the devil had possessed him. Incidentally, I used to have the same reaction when I was younger and forced to listen to the shrieking operatic voices of church ladies who THOUGHT they could sing.

80’s Heavy Metal seems to get the biggest reaction out of my Rockstar. Play a little Black-N-Blue or Ratt, and he immediately starts banging out a drum rythym on whatever hard surface  is available. (Please note: He has had no formal drum training) We like to crank the tunes when downing brandy and playing darts, (which I usually win) and it seems that this causes a general horniness to come over us, as we have on various occassions bumped uglies to the musical interluding of Lita Ford and Motley Crue. Good times.

At work, I have found that my co-workers’ tastes are very ecclectic.

My fellow co-manager, while choosing tiresome elevator music for our customers, can, during closing hours, be heard emitting an other-worldly growl while listening to death metal on his Ipod. Luckily, this music gets his butt moving, so we don’t have to be at work til 2 AM.

One of my drivers, despite being 38 and 320 lbs, twitters prettily to the young people music of the day. He is especially loud when it comes to any Adele song, or that song with the girl who squeaks her voice in the very beginning of the song. It matters not that the radio we have at work is old and static-y- he continues to crank it loudly enough that a messy, staic-y sound reached my poor ears. This makes me quite perturbed.

There are too, those songs that bring tears to my eyes. Most of them have to do with my ex-husband, such as Tesla’s We’re No Good Together. Still others make me cry simply because of their lack of musical inclination. Case in point, any Taylor Swift or Miley Cyrus song. Miley Cyrus, to you I have one thing to say- “sometimes you gotta climb that mountain”, just so I can push you off that cliff.