Thursday, April 24, 2014

U is for Understanding the Use of Punctuation

When my mother texts me, pretty much every sentence ends in an exclamation point.

We had this conversation a while back:
[A few back and forth texts regarding a car issue I had]

Me: Bro-in-law brought the car back to my house.

Mum: Did he charge you?!

Me: Big Sis#2 said not to worry about it.

Mum: Then don't!

Me: Lol why are you yelling?

Mum: When was I yelling?!

Me: The exclamation points make me read it in a yelling voice.

Mum: Then you're the one yelling!

Me: -___________-


I shall just have to add this to the long long list of things Mum cannot understand because she refuses to do so. 

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

T is for Toddlers

For the most part I like children. I don't really think they're that much different than adults, except they're shorter (and when you're only 5' tall, shorter doesn't really make a difference in your opinion of other people).

I like babies, too. I don't think they're cute or anything (seriously newborns all look like freaking aliens I am not going to oooo and aaahhh over your newborn sorry just not doing it), but when it comes to looking after babies, that is the easiest thing ever.

(The first response I usually get to that is "Wait until you have to get up and feed them 4 times a night!" I promise, getting up and feeding something 4+ times a night is not a big deal when you don't sleep in the first place. I have done it when others were too sick to do it, for weeks at a time.)

Babies cry and shit and need feeding. That's it. They cannot talk back to you and they cannot run away.

Which leads to why I am never having children.

I don't like toddlers. They hit that magical age of being able to talk in sentences and run at the same time, and now you will truly come to know the meaning of suffering. Because they can talk and run, but they cannot yet reason. And also at that age, they're like puppies. You can't leave them alone to entertain themselves yet. They need constant attention, and they have limitless energy. Just thinking about taking care of a toddler makes me tired.



NOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPE 

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

S is for Swearing


I tried to give up swearing for Lent.

It didn't work out.

I was raised in an Irish family where profanity is just part of the dialect. My first word as a child was "shit." Foul language was just commonplace when I was growing up; I never thought of it as taboo.

Which is why giving up swearing never works.

If you actually sit and think about the whole concept, it's kind of ridiculous. I mean they're just words. Which made me realize something in my efforts to not swear. I started using "alternate" words instead of swearing. 

"Grasshole" is now a common insult amongst my siblings, as is "dishrag." The words changed, but if you think about it, I'm still swearing. Whether I shout "COCKSUCKER" or "SACAJAWEA" (another new family fav...) after bashing my knee into the coffee table, the intent remains the same. It doesn't matter what the word is, I'm still swearing.

So the lesson learned from this is to not bother trying not to swear.


[A side note: I apologize for lack of comments on other blogs. All the A-Z posts are set to post automatically, while I continue to wallow in a depressive funk.]

Monday, April 21, 2014

R is for Retarded

I have mixed feelings regarding the use of the word "retard" as slang. I've used it myself on occasion. To me, the word doesn't have anything to do with people who have actual mental disabilities. Its use in slang phrases has changed its connotation.

The word itself, as defined in the dictionary, means slow, or to slow down. That is what we mean when we say something is retarded--we mean that it's stupid (i.e., slow). We don't mean that people with mental disabilities are stupid, and we're not saying "retarded" to insult them.

Downs Syndrome runs in my family. My cousin, C., now 20 years old, has it, and I have never treated her any differently than I treated the rest of my cousins. I've seen how other people react, so I know the difficulties she'll have to face for the rest of her life. She lives life as normally as she can. She's in a theater club (and is apparently a very good actress!), loves to watch TV (especially Coronation Street), works at a daycare center and is very good with small children, and wants to one day be a midwife. She actually goes down the pub now with her friends and with Anorexic Auntie (her mum).

A couple years ago, when a school counselor somehow brought up the fact that she has Downs, C came home in tears and asked Anorexic Auntie, "is there really something wrong with me!??"

If that counselor survived Anorexic Auntie's wrath, I would be very surprised.

Why do we need politically correct words for things that make us uncomfortable? Remember when it was still ok to call someone "handicapped?" But then that changed to "disabled." "Handicapped" used to be ok, though--it replaced "crippled," which was not ok. So how long before "disabled" becomes a bad word, and we come up with another term? We used to also refer to crippled people as "lame" way back when until someone decided that was offensive and so now it's generally only used for animals. We still use "lame" as slang and no one seems to care.


It's retarded.  

Friday, April 18, 2014

P is for Panties

Why is that word still being used?

It is a horrific word. Think about it.

You can't use it in a sentence without sounding like a pedophile. I promise.

Ladies, do any of you actually use that word? Because I don't know any ladies who do. In fact, all the ladies with whom I am acquainted feel the same way I do.

There are so many alternatives:
knickers
underwear
undies
pants
underpants
or get specific, i.e. thongs, boy shorts, etc.


THERE IS NO NEED FOR THE WORD PANTIES. None. At all.

Thursday, April 17, 2014

O is for Old Soul

Ever been told you have an "old soul?" I get that a lot. I don't believe in reincarnation. Even in my spiritualist/idealist college days when a bunch of my friends went through their Buddhist phases, I did not believe in reincarnation. Because no benevolent force would ever allow something so horrific. Living another life over and over and over after you die? As far as I'm concerned, that is the definition of Hell.

I know a number of other people who get the "old soul" comments, too. I noticed that we all have something in common: we spent a huge chunk of our childhoods surrounded by adults, without other children for company. After a while, you get used to this to the point where you prefer to hang around the adults even when there is a group of other kids to play with. I presume this is why I got along so well with the parents of some of my friends in high school...

Recently someone pointed out to me that some of my friendships are abnormal. I was reminiscing about the trips to Atlantic City I used to take with my friend Ch. (who is a huge hippie btw). I was stopped mid-story with a "....wait, you're friends with Ch.? I thought you were friends with her daughter?"

Lol.

Ch. has a daughter my age. We were bff's from like age 6 through age 14. We're not friends anymore--we just grew apart, and then the last time I saw her I realized I don't really like her anymore. But now I'm friends with her mother.

I have two other friends like this--I used to be friends with their kids, but now I hang out with the moms instead. Is that weird? I never thought it was. Age differences mean nothing to me. Biologically, we all stop maturing in our late teens. I know people who use their age to talk down to younger people--even if that younger person is in their 30s or 40s--and basically treat them like they're children (i.e., "You're only ##, you're a baby!"). I don't really understand that. Yes, I know there are 10 years between myself and my youngest siblings, and yes I remember changing their diapers and feeding them in the middle of the night, but they're still like my best friends now. You reach a certain age, and the age difference doesn't matter anymore.

I'm also really really awful at determining someone else's age. I hate when people ask me how old I think they look, because honestly I have no freaking clue how old you are. 20? 30? 55? 90? No idea. Perhaps this is payback for the confusion I apparently cause others--according to a number of acquaintances, I come off as much older than I am, but I look much younger than I am (yay!), and this is perplexing.

Everyone keeps telling me I'm going to be upset when I turn 30 in September. Are y'all kidding?? I can't wait. My 20s SUCKED ASS. Bring it on.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

N is for Nothing


I had a vlog planned for "N," but for a number of reasons, the vlog was never made. 

(As y'all may have noticed from the vast number of vlogs I have made in the past, I clearly am totally awesome at vlogging.*)

I had hoped to get an alternate post done in the event that I did not actually finish the vlog, but that never happened either. 

Apologies in advance for getting overly serious from this point on.

The middle of April (and spring in general) marks a number of death anniversaries, two of which have not really gotten any easier to deal with than when those individuals died. So my ability to function has suffered, and it eventually ground to a halt on Sunday night. Monday marked a death that continues to haunt me, and so I was kind of a huge mess on Monday. Consumption of booze has tripled since then, so I'm still feeling kind of brittle and raw. 

Which brings me to today's post. 

For N, we shall be having a virtual moment of silence. A moment of silence for those we have all lost to the Long Silence.  














*sarcasm

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

M is for Math

From like third grade onward, most of my teachers and peers thought I was a moron. Because I can't do math.

Numbers just don't make sense to me. Even I thought I was stupid, because numbers seem to make perfect sense to everyone else. Both of my parents are accountants, for feck's sake. Mumsy even once admitted to me that she dreams in numbers.

I can barely count to ten.

Not kidding--when I used to exercise and tried counting my sit-ups and push-ups and whatnot, I apparently almost always screwed up the counting at some point. I never noticed this--my sister and a few of my friends did, on a number of separate occasions.

I screw up taking down people's phone numbers all the time at work. My boss used to yell at me for this, but now--like most of my bosses before him--if the number is wrong the first time, he'll reverse the 6's and 9's (as in, change all 6's in the phone number to 9's, or vice versa), and usually once he does that, he ends up with the correct number.

::convulses on the floor::

Whoever came up with 6 and 9 should be tortured. 3 as well--it always takes me a sec to make sure it's not an 'E.' And to make sure the 4 isn't "H."

I have trouble telling time, too. Most people look at a clock and see the time, but I see:



unless I sit there and stare at it for a full minute.


AND WTF IS UP WITH THOSE WATCHES WITH NO NUMBERS JUST HANDS YOU'RE POSSESSED BY DEMONS IF YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS.

Monday, April 14, 2014

L is for Looking Both Ways Before Crossing the Street

There is a plague on motorists everywhere, and it is this:


I have noticed a growing trend with pedestrians--they no longer look before they cross the street. It baffles me. It makes me terrified of driving through towns. For reals, I will take the most ass-backwards way to the post office or the supermarket on my lunch breaks just so I can avoid driving through the town in which I work. People dart out into the street with no warning. They even dart out from behind parked cars, and then give you filthy looks when you slam on your brakes and swerve into the middle of the road to avoid them.

I would love to take these people and drop them into the middle of Broad Street in Philadelphia, where I learned the correct way to be a pedestrian. In Philadelphia, you look both ways even when the sign tells you it's ok to walk. Because Philly drivers will absolutely not stop for pedestrians in the middle of the road. Even the bus drivers won't stop. (Not kidding, I saw five pedestrians and one bicyclist get hit by cars and/or buses in the three years I lived there. I was even in the car for one of those collisions.)

People have somehow gotten it into their heads that the Yield to Pedestrians law means that they no longer have to look both ways because it's illegal for us not to yield to them in a crosswalk.

IN THE CROSSWALK, PEOPLE.


Newsflash: it's still a good idea to look both ways.

Saturday, April 12, 2014

K is for Klutz

You know what really ticks me off? When people try to say that a girl being a klutz is cute.

It's not cute. It's a fecking pain in the arse.

Mostly I can blame it on the vertigo. I have no balance, and even when I think I can manage standing upright without a problem, sometimes my brain likes to play Let's Go Sailing Now and



I used to love shoes. I still love shoes. But I can no longer wear high heels. I have finally reached a point where I can accept this. I used to enjoy haunted houses on Halloween as well, but then a couple years ago after going through one of those spinning rooms


I spent the next 6 hours vomiting and fighting a raging headache, and the next two days in bed because I couldn't even stand up.

Part of it may also be a lack of hand-eye coordination. Lots of people complain that they have some issues with that. That they have *bad* hand-eye coordination.

Try having almost NONE.

A good chunk of the time, when I go to pick something up, I end up hurling it across the room. I have injured people doing this. I have broken windows and walls. I have lost things forever.

And a big problem resulting from vertigo + lack of hand-eye coordination: carrying things. 

Just carrying anything in general. If I need both hands to carry something, my balance goes out the effing window. Like seriously I have almost died on several occasions because I needed to carry a box from one side of the room to the other.

Some people try to tell me this can be a good thing. I can play the damsel in distress, right?

NO.

I never look like the damsel in distress. I just look like a fool.