People I Want to Punch in the Throat

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8 Ways to Say "F*ck You"


8 Ways to Say "Fuck You"

I've noticed a real trend on the internet lately. The passive aggressive "fuck you". We've all been a victim of it and I'm betting we've all dropped one or two of our own on a douchebag here or there.

I've rounded up some of my favorites, but I know I missed a bunch, so leave yours in the comments!

That Gainesville Cop? Yeah, He's a D-Bag

Remember last week when every woman on the internet lost her ever-loving mind and jizzed her pants over the "hot" Gainesville cops?

Source: Gainesville Police Department/Facebook

Yeah, I've got bad news. That fucker in the middle is a racist pig. Ugh. Screenshots were taken from Michael Hamill's Facebook account. One from 2013 where Hamill writes: “Who knew that reading jewish jokes before I go to bed would not only make me feel better about myself but also help me to sleep better as well. Here is one for everybody, ‘What’s the difference between boy scouts and jews?’ Anybody know? Well it is because ‘Boy scouts come back from their camps.'”

And this gem was from 2011: “so I find it funny that people will talk about how our government needs to do something about our economy and in reality it’s YOU who needs to stop taking advantage of our system and get a life and do something with your life. Gotta love reality when it hits you in the face. Stupid people annoy me. Put them in an oven and deal with them the Hitler way. Haha.”

You guys, I'm not even shocked anymore when this kind of shit comes to light. This is like the new normal now. What the fuck is going on? I'm just sick to my stomach. I'm furious. I'm sad. I'm hopeless. And then I'm back to furious again. I just don't know what to do or say anymore. I feel like I scream and yell and sign petitions and demand actions and change and nothing happens. But I'm not going to stop being outraged. I can't. 

I do know two things though:

1. I'm glad I didn't lose my shit and get my panties in a sweaty bunch over this fucker.

2. This sack of shit needs to be fired. Today. He has NO business being in a position of power. He has NO business protecting and serving his community. He's a disgrace and should be dealt with immediately.

The Gainesville Police Department needs to escort him from the building now and lock the door behind him. And if you're one of the ladies who creamed your shorts over him, you need to find that original post and unlike it and tell him what a piece of garbage he is.

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This Letter Stopped Me in My Tracks

Photo by Jordan Whitt
School started a few weeks ago, and we're still trying to get back into the swing of things. I don't know about you, but it's been tough. Are you back in the routine yet?

Our morning routine is pretty standard. The Hubs wakes up early to get the kids ready for the day. At 7:30 am, he starts out by yelling -- I mean, gently wakes up the kids. Every morning I hear "Adolpha, get down here and get dressed" and Gomer "Get dressed and brush your teeth." Some days there is more yelling than others.

This morning was one of those mornings. Both kids woke up grumpy and sluggish and there was more than the normal drama to deal with. Gomer had lost a shoe and Adolpha was refusing to brush her teeth. I had had it. I was trying to make lunches when I found Adolpha's take home folder on the counter, buried under some junk mail. It was stuffed with papers that she had not shown me. I was so irritated. She doesn't have many jobs, but she is supposed to empty her folder each night and show me what's been sent home so I don't miss anything important. I flung open the folder and started slamming papers on the counter, saying, "Adolpha, you know you're supposed to empty your folder! Why can't you do what you are supposed to?"

You Are the Number One Influence on Your Kid


Since July I've been dealing with some pesky eye stuff. I've been in and out of the eye doctor's office and every couple of hours I am putting drops in my eyes. These drops leave me feeling kind of yucky and my vision gets blurry and I can't see very well. Because of this, I've not been on the computer or my phone as much as I usually am. My work is suffering, but my relationship with my kids is actually improving.

No, this isn't a post about put down your phone you're a bad mom. This is a post about figuring out the best ways to connect with your kids.

Normally my kids are good communicators. In between begging for food and money, they tell me a little bit about their days, but I don't get all the good details that I want. Normally when I realize that my kids haven't shared much with me in a while, I pack them into the car and go for a ride. There's something about driving along a stretch of road that really gets them jabbering. With my eyes dilated to the size of dinner plates, I can't exactly go for a drive these days. So instead, I've been hanging out in my darkened bedroom with a cool towel over my eyes like some sort of Victorian lady with the vapors. It doesn't take long for my kids to find me. There is something magic about sitting together without making eye contact that makes kids open up.

Years ago I learned a sales technique where you stay silent and let the other person talk. People hate silence and naturally want to fill it. In sales, they tend to fill that silence with information that should not have been shared and is helpful to your deal. This technique works wonders on kids, because in addition to spilling the beans, I find that my kids come to their own conclusions based on conversations we've already had. It's like they remember the lessons I've been teaching them for the last 10 years. Hallelujah!

Over the weekend I was resting on my son's bed while he was supposed to be cleaning out his closet. I wanted him to try on his clothes and see what will still fit him this winter. (I can't read my phone, but I can see if his pants are too short.) Out of nowhere he said, “Kids in my grade are drinking.”

I played it super cool. “Seventh graders are drinking?” I said. “Friends of yours?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“How do you know?” I asked. “Could be a rumor.”

“They told me,” he said. “And guess what, Mom? Their parents don't even care.”

“Hmm,”I said.

“What would you do if you caught me drinking?” he asked.

I stayed silent, not even daring to peek at him from beneath my washcloth.

You would care,” he said.

I stayed silent.

“We've talked about this a lot,” he said.

I stayed silent.

“You've given me lots of reasons why I shouldn't drink until I'm old enough,” he said.

I stayed silent.

“It's just that I can't believe they'd do that. I can't believe their parents don't care. Don't they realize how bad that is for kids? They're supposed to be parents!”

I stayed silent.

“Yeah, so, that's happening,” he said. “But don't worry. I'm not going to do that.”

Finally I spoke. “Gomer, this is just the beginning. You're in seventh grade and I can remember when my classmates started experimenting with all kinds of things in seventh grade. Some of them will try and get you to try things too. And you're right, some of the parents don't care. Some parents would offer to buy us beer when I was in high school. But that that doesn't matter. You have to remember who you are and what kind of person you want to be. You have to remember what your goals are for the future and how underage drinking or doing other dangerous things could ruin that future. I don't know what exactly Dad and I would do if we caught you drinking. You shouldn't worry about the punishment. The punishment isn't what keeps you from doing something wrong. It's your own self-respect. Always remember that.”


He went back in his closet and left me alone in his room to over-analyze our conversation. Why did he tell me that stuff? What was I supposed to do with that information? Did he get the message I was sending? My mother once told me that she was surprised how much my kids tell me. She was raised in a house where if you talked about things like underage drinking, then you must be doing it, so she never talked about it with her parents. When she raised me and my brother she tried to do better, but there was still a lot of “we don't talk about that kind of stuff.” I don't want to raise my kids like that. I want to be their main source of information--nothing is off limits. I'm not naive enough to think that they're never going to make poor decisions, but I do hope that they'll always feel comfortable talking to me about anything that's going on in their lives. I hope that they trust me and come to me for advice. All I can do is keep talking to them and listening to them. When they stop talking to me that's when I'll know something is up. 

What about you? How do you get your kids to talk to you?

This post was sponsored by Responsiblity.org and I am part of the #Asklistenlearn blogger program. All views and opinions are my own. Thanks to Reponsibility.org for always encouraging me to find ways to talk to my kids about this important topic.



The Evil Birthday Clown


Well, just when I thought only potty parties and Marie Antoinette-themed first birthday parties were some of the worst party ideas I'd ever heard of, I read about Dominic Deville, The Evil Birthday Clown.

Holy shit!  This is a clown that you pay to stalk and terrify your child.  As if clowns weren't scary enough for most people!  This guy will send threatening letters and text messages to your kid warning him that he's being watched and the scary clown is coming for him!  When your child least expects it, the scary looking clown will jump out of some dark alley and pie your kid in the face.

Happy Birthday, Champ!

The Craziest Conversation I've Had With My Children in a While

As I've mentioned before, riding in the car seems to be the time when my kids really want to talk and I learn a lot about how their little brains work and what they think.  This is the craziest conversation I've had with my children...recently.

The other night we had a 30 minute drive and Gomer and Adolpha started talking to each other.  I'm not sure how the conversation got started, but by the time I figured out what they were talking about, I realized that somehow I have raised a femi-Nazi and Ward Cleaver.

Gomer:  Adolpha, are you ever going to be a mommy?

Adolpha:  No way.

Gomer:  But why not?  If you were a mommy I could be your kids' uncle.