Month: April 2012

Get Your Mommy War On

Hold onto your bonnets, ladies–the Mommy Wars are back.

Your first question might be: What if I don’t wear a bonnet?

Good question. In the case of non-bonnet-wearing, grab the nearest lady item like a box of Massengill or a DVD of Sex and the City II. Now hold tight because the Mommy Wars are back.

What are the Mommy Wars? you ask.

Oh, you sweet, sweet little woman bird or you precious man bird, if you’re a guy and have continued reading past the Massengill reference. Let’s get educated!

Um…okay, I should admit that I know dick about the Mommy Wars. But I am a librarian, which means I can shush with the best of them, and I had a baby cut out of my uterus, which means I can classify myself as a mommy. Still you might want to head to some Mommy blog or to your actual mommy or watch Mama’s Family to learn the rich history.

You’re still here? Fine, let me search the databases, archives and primary documents (this sounds so librarian-y™ but really I’m just looking at Wikipedia), and let’s take the wheels off this bus. They ain’t goin’ round ‘n round no more. And if that driver tells me to “Move on back!” Mommy’s gonna cut a bitch. I hate that goddamn song.

Okay so the Mommy Wars began when a stay-at-home mom and working mom got into a cat fight over which type of Bounty cleans up spills better. It was vicious, and by the end, over 200 rolls of Bounty quicker picker uppers were needed to soak up the bile.

Blogs and books were written, mainly about rich women’s struggles to have it all or to have it all–while giant corporations continue to put shit in our food that will eventually cause our total zombification.

Things seemed to die down until in February, Gwyneth Paltrow told a magazine “I’m rich and successful, and I told someone you have to compromise to be a wife. Now I’m going to jet off to Italy.” Many people said “I didn’t read that, what did she say? Yeah sorry, wasn’t listening even now.”

Okay so the Mommy Wars flared up yesterday when some rich lady threw a verbal grenade at some super rich lady. The rich lady was like “bitch doesn’t work ever” and the super rich lady said “Butler, hold my calls because I’m gonna push the nuclear button and destroy all humanity. Or I’m going to tweet I’m a stay-at-home mom to five boys, that’s hard work. . . oh and my Mittens is doing kind of shitty with women in the polls because of the shitty things his political party does and says so thanks for turning the focus on this issue.”

This caused mass hysteria. The #IWantToEatJustinBiebersHairpiece was knocked from its number one trending perch. Some person hyperventilated on TV. Another Republican said we need to respect a woman’s choice and then laughed hysterically.  Someone made this travel mug:

The country quickly divided into two camps: Those who make millions in politics and media, and those who don’t give a shit. I am in the latter. That’s why this post ends now.

Facebook Facepalm

National Public Radio aired a story offering friendly advice to teachers about posting on Facebook. The basic premise is that teachers don’t have the same leeway as others because of the nature of the job. So this status update would not be the best choice:

Neither would this photo:

The story went on to give examples of teachers who lost their jobs over such infractions as calling homosexuality a “perverted sin,” referring to their students as “future criminals” and posting photos of themselves covered in chocolate sauce gyrating next to a stripper.

Fair enough.

Now I don’t want to seem like a scold or anti-freedomy™, but broadcasting your awfulness to the world is not always the right course of action especially when your job is to teach students to take tests made up by people seeking to annihilate all forms of public education. I’ll admit I like to cover myself in applesauce while gyrating next to stuffed animals I dressed up as strippers–in fact I’m doing it right now–the difference is I don’t take pictures of it or let people know about it…oh, sh*t. Unlike.

But should this just be applicable to teachers? Yes, teachers are revered in our society–just ask Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker, but if I am not allowed to call my students sludge buckets for the entire world to see, why are you allowed to inundate me with updates about your hiccups?

Now this has never been done before–a blog first, or blirst™–but I’m about to devise a list of Facebook Etiquette, or Facebookquette…no, that doesn’t work…how ’bout Speaker7’s Guide to Non-Asshattery on Facebookery? Score. I’m going to trademark it. ™

Speaker7’s Guide to Non-Asshattery on Facebookery or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb™:

  • Don’t write about your hiccups. Or that you’re tired or hungry or yearning to be free. No one cares, unless you’re an actual baby. Then I would be impressed by your ability to spell hiccups, and I would steal you away for an appearance on the Today show calling you the Facebaby™.
  • Don’t post photographs of your fabulous vacation destination that looks nothing like the hellhole I call home. I can’t afford a vacation, jerk, so thanks for rubbing it in my facebook. Oh, you’re not home? I’m going to go break into your house.
  • Don’t post that you’re going to break into someone’s house. That’s going to get you arrested, and you saw how hard that was for Paris Hilton. She’s a warrior.
  • Don’t call Paris Hilton a warrior. Even though you are kidding, humor doesn’t translate well on Facebook, and people will think you’re stupid and out of touch. Paris Hilton is sooooo 2000.
  • Don’t write FML about anything unless you a literally fucking your life, and if you are doing that, post pictures.
  • Don’t write angry diatribes about slut women or gay immigrants under my status update about watching the Republican debate and vomiting into a bucket. We clearly don’t see things from the same perspective, and ranting like a dehydrated former child star won’t change things.
  • And finally, never use Facebook.


Science is for the Turds

I like to know knowledge and learn learnledge. But I get angry sometimes that my worldview isn’t presented adequately. Like I guess scientists and mathetists can get all smug with their belief that 2+2=4. But why can’t 2+2=19 or 2+2=foot massage? Why can’t it also equal that or = this? Who died and made them the king of whole numbers?

The state of Tennennnennnnnnseeeeseee has the right idea. The governor is posed to sign a law that will allow teachers to present the weaknesses of such “theories” as evolution and global warming, among other topics so teachers can showcase the strengths of other theories like Wonder Twins Power Activate.

The new law is supported by social conservatives and creationists, and both are quick to point out this has nothing do with injecting religion into the science curriculum. It’s just to make things more awesome. Like you’re in biology, and your teacher says “Sure, organisms may have adapted over time to their environment in a process called natural selection or maybe a flying unicorn sprinkled fairy dust onto a potted plant on a turtle’s back and that grew into the Earth and then we grew like flowers and we have magical powers.” Maybe there’s no evidence for the unicorn theory, but you would have to agree the unicorn theory is way more awesome. Like I would watch a movie about that sh*t. The former theory with its evidence and widespread support from the scientific community? Yawnsville.

But why stop there? Wouldn’t it be super awesome if everything was up for debate, and you could just go with what your gut tells you?

Gravity. Sure I guess it could be the force that attracts a body toward the center of the earth, or toward any other physical body having mass, OR it could be God pressing down on my head preventing me from rising upwards until the Rapture.

Blue sky. Sure it could be the light being absorbed by gas molecules in the atmosphere OR a giant, who lives in the land of giants in the clouds above, spilled over his bucket of blue paint whilst painting his giant chicken coop.

Heliocentric theory. Sure maybe the Earth revolves around the Sun OR the earth revolves around Speaker7 and all her glorious scientific wisdom. My guts says the Speaker7centric theory sounds correct. Coming soon to schools in 2012-13.

We all owe a big thank you to Republican State Rep. Bill Dunn for broadening our view of the world, and allowing me to teach my son that hurricanes form when Pop Rocks are mixed with soda or because God hates gay marriage or gay retirees (can’t remember which, I’ll consult my seer stone).

I will also teach my son that Bill Dunn could have resulted from the slime crawling out of the ocean OR maybe, just maybe he formed from a giant turdball. My gut tells me to go with the latter theory, and I have the evidence to back it up since he is the Turd of the Week™.

Disclaimer: Turd of the Week™ is nondenominational award although this particular honoree was chosen through Intelligent Design. 

Easter Egg Funk

Now that I have a two-year-old, I have been hounded with questions about whether I’m taking my son to an Easter egg hunt.

(Full disclosure: No one has asked me this)

The short answer is no.

The long answer is F*** no.

I might have mentioned I once worked as a newspaper reporter. Thank you. Oh, wait you weren’t applauding. I thought maybe you were applauding.

I was a serious journalist, and that is why I covered the annual Easter egg hunt at the local park. I asked some tough questions like “Why are you here?” “Do you think you’ll find an egg?” and “Is there a bridge nearby? I’d like to jump off it.”

It begins all nice and egg-free. The kids appear human as do the parents.

But as soon as the air horn sounds, it quickly devolves into something resembling a Black Friday stampede for the cheapest electric egg cooker.

Eggvidence:

"Screw the conch, I want me some eggs!"

Parents, who have already staked a position by an easily visible egg, pounce upon it like a pack of jackals, spraying their urine and feces freely to ward off intruders.

Okay, maybe not that, but they yell really loud and basically push two-year-olds out of the way. Once their grubby snot-nosed child picks it up (always snot-nosed, always dripping, always the child I end up having to interview at the end of the 3-second bloodbath, always manages to get snot on me), they move onto the next egg, bawking orders like chickens if chickens could bawk orders, and just generally making the Easter Bunny weep hot tears.

There should be a limit to how many eggs one can grab (correct amount is 1) and how many times one can bellow “C’mon! C’mon! C’mon! Right here!!! Right here!!! Get it!!!!  GET IT!!!!!” (correct amount is never)

Even after reading this, you feel you must subject your offspring to an early taste of dashed hopes and despondency, please follow these tips:

  • Bring eggs with you. At the start of the hunt, put them in your child’s basket and say “Let’s go home.”
  • Watch or read something uplifting to restore your faith in humanity.
  • Enter a profession that will never make you cover an Easter egg hunt. One day you will find yourself writing sentences like these: “Thousands of children and parents packed the park. Many held plastic bags and baskets to load with eggs.”
  • Weep hot tears.

Multiple Onions of the News

Lots of news today, people. Lots of news. I don’t even know how to describe it. Today’s news was so exciting it was as if the Hindenburg crashed into the Titanic or George Washington crossed the Delaware right up onto the beaches of Normandy or Snooki crashed into the Hindenburg right after giving birth to Charlie Sheen’s baby whom they named Washington Titanic.

Who can describe it? Who can take our hands and lead us from the darkness into the light? Who can segue quickly from a segment on Rick Santorum to a segment on the best bidets?

The Today show of course.

Okay first big story: The never-ending  war in Afghanistan. Sorry, I misheard that. I was crunching loudly on my morning bag of Cheetos Flamin’ Hot Ass Explosion®.

Let’s try this again. Octomom, the woman/octopus hybrid, is on public assistance. Matt Lauer is interviewing her and is wearing glasses so we know this is serious bizness.

“Good to have you with us,” he says.

“Hi. Thank you to have me,” she answers.

Uh-oh. I was thinking the fluttering of eyelashes and the making of faces during the 10-15 promos of Octomom was just Octomom being playful, but now I’m thinking she’s on something or about to envelope Matt in a thick cloud of black ink.

“A lot of people are angry about this decision to go on assistance,” Matt says.

Who are these people? Because they sound great.

“I’m sad. I’m just a horribly sad, horribly disfigured person, and you–meaning the media–love it. It gives you the chance to publicly shame somehow who so obviously needs mental health assistance.  Instead of giving me the help I need by ignoring me,  you parade me around like we’re at the Victorian freak show,” Octomom answers. “Oh and I took this picture for a magazine because I love my children.”

“Please chronicle the daily humiliations that encompass your life so I can masturbate and people at home can feel superior even while eating pink slime and arsenic-ladened chicken,” Matt says.

“It would take 14 books–do you hear that publishers–14 books to go through all the multiple onions of my life,” she says.

Well said.

The news just keeps getting newsier with the next piece on a turnip who wrote on article entitled There are Downsides to being this Pretty” or “See, I can ignite a media firestorm. Book deal, please.”

The article includes many pictures. Like this one:

I’d tap that root (Do you see what I did there? The turnip forms from a tap root. There are downsides to being this clever).

Everyone is pissed and, the staff of the Today show was even talking about it, gurgles Ann Curry who adds “I’m so way prettier than her.”

Some people are like: ugly, ugly, ugly, boo. Some people are like: you go turnip, yay!

“I’ve gotten thousands of vile messages on Twitter,” the turnip states. She does not say how many books that translates into.

I guess there are not as many multiple turnips to her life.