The Lumineers
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Field journal
In the late 29th Century, archeologists unearthed a miraculous find: this field journal, written some time in the early 21st Century. It was an amazing look inside the mind of what scientists call "Cellphonicus Addicticum" and historians have dubbed "Insane Suburban Mother." This priceless discovery is now on display at the Global Chinese Museum of National History, and we're showing a bit of it to you now.....
Field Journal
Monday
5:28pm: I dropped my cell phone into a glass of water. Oh, god.... it doesn't work anymore. I don't know what I'm going to do...
5:41pm: I put it in a bag of rice but then when I checked it 4 minutes later it still didn't work. I'm so scared.
5:45pm: I'm somehow managing to continue making dinner for the kids, even though my hands are now shaking and I'm starting to sweat. At least they'll be able to go on... after I'm gone.
5:59pm: OH MY GOD. What if somebody needs to text me? I called hubs and broke the news to him. He hadn't tried to text me. At least I have the house phone. Oh, god... at least there's still the house phone.
6:14pm: The shakes are pretty bad now, I spilled Child 2's glass of milk and he whined about that for a while. There's nothing I can do at this point except try to hold on, and hope that things get better.
6:29pm: I need to make a shopping list. How am I supposed to make a shopping list without my phone??? I need bread and cheese!! I'll never remember that on my own!!!
6:42pm: Hubs is home now and he told me about something called paayyyyyyyy-perrrrr that people used to use in the olden days to make things like lists. He said we actually had some in the house, too, and a "pon" that you use to write things. I will try this strange technology, after all... my family needs their bread and cheese.
7:28pm: I finally figured out how to make the pon and pipper work and have made a shopping list, which I'll tape in the empty space below after I've gone shopping. I'm so tired now. So, so tired.
8:14pm: I tried my phone again but it doesn't turn on. I'm feeling hopeless and full of despair at this point. Luckily hubs is here to take care of the children in my hour of need. I'm forced to check my email with my computer like some kind of cave woman. I feel awful.
9:32pm: I have no calendar! My appointments! I don't know where I'm supposed to go tomorrow! Do I have a client? I have absolutely no way of finding these things out without my phone!!!
9:45pm: Hubs suggested I think about it and try to remember who my client is tomorrow, and it worked. He's a rock.
10:14pm: The exhaustion of the past few hours have overwhelmed me and I must lie down. Hopefully sleep will come easily.
Tuesday
2:46am: I woke with a start, in tears. I was having a dream that all of my clients came to my door and wanted to know why I hadn't shown up, but I had no idea who any of them were without my phone.
8:45am: I made it through the rest of the night. I can't do anything except cling to the hope that the rice will have done its job and my phone turns on this morning.
8:49am: OH GOD, IT STILL DOESN'T WORK. IT STILL DOESN'T WORK. WHAT AM I GOING TO DO? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO??????
9:14am: Heavily medicated, I have no choice but to leave for the client I'm pretty sure I have today.
10:00am: Luckily my memory actually worked this one time and I went to the right place. I made it through my work as painfully as possible. I only cried about 7 times.
12:00pm: Done with work, I go shopping. Do my credit cards still work if I have no phone? Does anything still work if I have no phone?
12:16pm: I'm at Costco. Unable to tweet the experience, I'm forced to stop people in the aisles and say sarcastic things to them in 140 character increments.
12:34pm: There's a Verizon booth in this Costco. I wonder if I'm eligible for a free upgrade yet?
The field journal abruptly ends there, but we are still left to wonder: Did this Insane Suburban Mother find the solution to her problem? Was she able to replace her broken phone; saving her family and therefore the world? Historians can only guess, and marvel at the strength and courage of this brave, brave woman.
Field Journal
Monday
5:28pm: I dropped my cell phone into a glass of water. Oh, god.... it doesn't work anymore. I don't know what I'm going to do...
5:41pm: I put it in a bag of rice but then when I checked it 4 minutes later it still didn't work. I'm so scared.
5:45pm: I'm somehow managing to continue making dinner for the kids, even though my hands are now shaking and I'm starting to sweat. At least they'll be able to go on... after I'm gone.
5:59pm: OH MY GOD. What if somebody needs to text me? I called hubs and broke the news to him. He hadn't tried to text me. At least I have the house phone. Oh, god... at least there's still the house phone.
6:14pm: The shakes are pretty bad now, I spilled Child 2's glass of milk and he whined about that for a while. There's nothing I can do at this point except try to hold on, and hope that things get better.
6:29pm: I need to make a shopping list. How am I supposed to make a shopping list without my phone??? I need bread and cheese!! I'll never remember that on my own!!!
6:42pm: Hubs is home now and he told me about something called paayyyyyyyy-perrrrr that people used to use in the olden days to make things like lists. He said we actually had some in the house, too, and a "pon" that you use to write things. I will try this strange technology, after all... my family needs their bread and cheese.
7:28pm: I finally figured out how to make the pon and pipper work and have made a shopping list, which I'll tape in the empty space below after I've gone shopping. I'm so tired now. So, so tired.
8:14pm: I tried my phone again but it doesn't turn on. I'm feeling hopeless and full of despair at this point. Luckily hubs is here to take care of the children in my hour of need. I'm forced to check my email with my computer like some kind of cave woman. I feel awful.
9:32pm: I have no calendar! My appointments! I don't know where I'm supposed to go tomorrow! Do I have a client? I have absolutely no way of finding these things out without my phone!!!
9:45pm: Hubs suggested I think about it and try to remember who my client is tomorrow, and it worked. He's a rock.
10:14pm: The exhaustion of the past few hours have overwhelmed me and I must lie down. Hopefully sleep will come easily.
Tuesday
2:46am: I woke with a start, in tears. I was having a dream that all of my clients came to my door and wanted to know why I hadn't shown up, but I had no idea who any of them were without my phone.
8:45am: I made it through the rest of the night. I can't do anything except cling to the hope that the rice will have done its job and my phone turns on this morning.
8:49am: OH GOD, IT STILL DOESN'T WORK. IT STILL DOESN'T WORK. WHAT AM I GOING TO DO? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO??????
9:14am: Heavily medicated, I have no choice but to leave for the client I'm pretty sure I have today.
10:00am: Luckily my memory actually worked this one time and I went to the right place. I made it through my work as painfully as possible. I only cried about 7 times.
12:00pm: Done with work, I go shopping. Do my credit cards still work if I have no phone? Does anything still work if I have no phone?
12:16pm: I'm at Costco. Unable to tweet the experience, I'm forced to stop people in the aisles and say sarcastic things to them in 140 character increments.
12:34pm: There's a Verizon booth in this Costco. I wonder if I'm eligible for a free upgrade yet?
The field journal abruptly ends there, but we are still left to wonder: Did this Insane Suburban Mother find the solution to her problem? Was she able to replace her broken phone; saving her family and therefore the world? Historians can only guess, and marvel at the strength and courage of this brave, brave woman.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Song of the Day: Pretty Girl at the Airport
I fucking LOVE this song. This has been my song of the day before. More than once, actually. Luckily none of you who are reading this post were reading my stuff back then, so you'll never know it's a repost. Oh. Wait. Shit.
Hey, guess what band I'm seeing tonight?? GUESS GUESS GUESS GUESS GUESS!!
Friday, June 22, 2012
Pointing out some absurdities (NSFW)
So, the post I wrote the other day about Jenny McCarthy? I know, right??? You guys have been awesome in your support and your encouragement, thank you!! If you know me at all, or have read, um... anything I've written..... you should know that I have no problem with respectful disagreement and discussion. In fact, I welcome it! Please, feel free to disagree with me about an opinion of mine, just as long as 1. you do it with respect and you 2. don't pussy out behind "Anonymous," because that will just piss me off.
Anyway, there have been a few things said about the post that didn't make it into the comments section here, one because they were in an email and the other because somebody pussied out behind "Anonymous" and pissed me off so I deleted it. (That's actually the first time I've ever deleted a comment here. Intentionally, anyway.)
See, if you had read what I wrote, you would have noticed that my issue with Jenny McCarthy isn't her anti-vaccine crusade and it isn't with her Playboy modeling, it's with her judgmentally superior attitude about how she's "the best" autism parent, and anybody who chose a different path is inferior. That's what I take issue with, and I've said it again and again, but I'll say it once more: my point is that we're all just parents doing the best we can. Just because my experience is different than yours doesn't mean mine is better; it's just different. And that's the piece that Jenny got wrong, in my opinion, and is the piece that I wrote about.
Well it turns out that Jenny's fans tend to be just as morally superior in their support of her. I KNOW, RIGHT???? I did not see that coming. And so, I just wanted to take a moment to point out some delicious ironies that came to me in either email or deleted comments.
One person said that because of my "vulgar terms," I lacked class and people would have trouble taking me seriously.
The other person said I was "selfish and sexist" for mentioning Jenny's body parts.
So... just to sum up....
Using "vulgar terms" to talk about this person means that I lack class:
and mentioning the "body parts" of this person makes me selfish and sexist:
Got it? Excellent. I'm glad we're all clear on that
Anyway, there have been a few things said about the post that didn't make it into the comments section here, one because they were in an email and the other because somebody pussied out behind "Anonymous" and pissed me off so I deleted it. (That's actually the first time I've ever deleted a comment here. Intentionally, anyway.)
See, if you had read what I wrote, you would have noticed that my issue with Jenny McCarthy isn't her anti-vaccine crusade and it isn't with her Playboy modeling, it's with her judgmentally superior attitude about how she's "the best" autism parent, and anybody who chose a different path is inferior. That's what I take issue with, and I've said it again and again, but I'll say it once more: my point is that we're all just parents doing the best we can. Just because my experience is different than yours doesn't mean mine is better; it's just different. And that's the piece that Jenny got wrong, in my opinion, and is the piece that I wrote about.
Well it turns out that Jenny's fans tend to be just as morally superior in their support of her. I KNOW, RIGHT???? I did not see that coming. And so, I just wanted to take a moment to point out some delicious ironies that came to me in either email or deleted comments.
One person said that because of my "vulgar terms," I lacked class and people would have trouble taking me seriously.
The other person said I was "selfish and sexist" for mentioning Jenny's body parts.
So... just to sum up....
Using "vulgar terms" to talk about this person means that I lack class:
and mentioning the "body parts" of this person makes me selfish and sexist:
Got it? Excellent. I'm glad we're all clear on that
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
A letter to @JennyMcCarthy
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| Cartoon by my good friend Lady Estrogen |
As an autism mom, I've never had a problem with you. Even though most people I know hate your guts, I've always maintained a casual distance from the whole thing. On the one hand, I'm a believer in vaccinations and the importance of herd immunity; both my kids have had all their shots, although not necessarily on a perfect schedule. On the other hand, I do have some questions about the connection between autism and vaccinations, despite the myriad of studies that have proven there isn't one. In my opinion, since we have no definitive scientific answer about what causes autism, we also don't have a definitive scientific answer about what doesn't cause autism, so I just try to keep an open mind about the whole thing.
In the past, I would always listen to the arguments against you and defend you by saying that every time I'd heard you talk, you would say "I'm not a doctor, I'm just a mom." That's something I can completely understand and respect. You were just talking about your own experiences and after all, we're all just moms (and dads) doing the best we can for our kids with the tools that we have.
At least at first, anyway. As the years have gone on, you've changed your argument from being "just a mom" talking about her experiences, to one of medical authority; casting doubt on scientists and doctors, but most importantly causing others to do the same. I'm not really on board with that, but again.... you're allowed to say what you want, and until now I was still sure that you were "just a mom;" doing what's best for your kid with the tools that you had.
I also had no particular opinion about you personally. If you want to show your body for money, I say more power to you! It's a very nice body, after all, and if that's something that works for you there's no reason I should think ill of you for it. You're an adult, you make your own choices, it's not my place to judge you for them.
As I write this I know that I will have some friends who will take issue with the fact that I'm giving you any credibility at all, but that's just what I do, you see; I am probably the most open-minded person you could ever know. I haven't walked in your shoes, I don't know your life, so I can't say anything about you other than to believe that you're just a mom, doing what's best for your kid. Who am I to say that your experience isn't as valid as mine? The answer is that I can't say that; nobody can say that, and that's the credo by which I live my life. My experience is my experience, and your experience is yours. Just because they're different doesn't mean one is more valid than the other.
But then you went and made the worst mistake a parent can make, in my opinion: You cast judgment on other parents for not making the same choices you did. You broke the number one rule of autism parenting, which is to know that nobody knows any more than anybody else does and we're all doing the best we can with the tools that we have. But you had to go and separate us autism parents into two categories: 1. Warrior moms (Train A) and 2. Victim moms (Train B). A warrior mom will do anything she can to "cure" her child of autism, while a victim mom will do very little, all the while lying back and basking in the attention she gets from having an autistic child. Naturally here you are the warrior mom, but the problem is that by your definition, this makes me the "victim mom;" because I haven't done chelation and I haven't seen a DAN doctor, or various other biomedical options. All I did was ABA but despite the results we've seen, since my son is not currently "cured" of autism, that means that I didn't do "everything I could" for him, which, by your definition, makes me a "victim mom."
You know what, lady? Fuck you. FUCK YOU. Up until now, despite all the things you've said and all the damage you've done to the health of American children and the image of autism, you weren't my enemy. You were still just a mom, perhaps a very misguided one, but still just a mom, and I could respect that you had a different opinion from me. But now that you've called me a victim, and you have declared yourself to be morally superior to me? Kiss my fucking ass. I am no victim, my kid isn't a victim and none of my friends who have chosen similar paths are, either. But you're going to stand there and judge us for the choices that we've made, just because they're different from yours? No. No fucking way.
Not that it matters to you, of course. I mean, I'm just a mom, doing the best I can for my kid with the tools that I have. You're rich and famous and there's nothing I can do that would hurt you or even make you change your mind. But at least I can say it, here on the internet: You fucked up, sister. You fucked up big time.
Nice tits, though.
Bitch.
Do you hate Jenny McCarthy, too? Join this Facebook page! She doesn't speak for the autism community; the rest of us do.
Monday, June 18, 2012
"It made me realize I had failed as a parent"
Sunday night. I'm fast asleep. I have the bed to myself when Child 2 comes in and lies down with me.
He coughs. And twitches a little.
Silence.
He coughs again. And whines softly.
Oh, god. I know what this is. I KNOW WHAT THIS IS! He's going to fucking PUKE! This is what he does when he pukes, he coughs and whines like that!
Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he just has something stuck in his throat. Oh, please let me be wrong. I have to go to work in 6 hours, I can't be up all night with a barfy boy.
Silence.
Cough.
Whine.
Cough.
Louder whine.
Cough. Gag.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"
Wretch.
"Child 2, quick! Get to the bathroom!!"
He gets up and starts heading toward the bathroom. And he starts yelling.
"FUCK! SHIT!! FUCK!!! SHIT!!!"
Oh. Oh, good god.
He makes it to the bathroom and I'm now standing in the middle of the pitch black bedroom. From there I can hear the telltale sounds of stomach contents being emptied. Into the sink. Well, at least it's not the floor. Or my bed.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" he howls from the bathroom. "SHIT! FUCK! SHIT!" He's a yeller, this one. Can't really blame him. Throwing up sucks. But... really with the cursing? I say nothing, I figure it makes him feel better. After all, they did a Mythbusters about that; about how screaming obscenities makes painful things less painful, it's probably helping.
I see the shadow of hubs coming into the room so I grab my pillows and head to Child 2's bed. Hubs is on vacation now, he can deal with this tonight. Happy Father's Day, though! YAY!
I settle into Child 2's bed (which happens to be the most comfortable bed in the house because it has this awesome Tempur-Pedic mattress topper) and in comes Child 1, who squishes in next to me.
It's going to be a long night, isn't it?
The rest of the night drags on with me drifting in and out of consciousness, and every hour or so the house is filled with the sound of "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! FUCK! SHIT! SHIT! FUCK!!!"
Does he really have to scream like that every time? I mean... I know it sucks to be sick like this, but come ON, man! The windows are open! THE WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD CAN HEAR YOU! And did I mention that my mother-in-law is in town and sleeping downstairs?
At some point the screaming and the cursing stopped, which I think was around the same time that my alarm went off and I had to get up for work.
Hubs and I were talking about it when I got home from work (and after I had taken a nice long nap). We agreed that there's nothing quite like listening to your 6 year old child curse and barf like a drunken sailor. "It made me realize I had failed as a parent," he said.
I guess we'll have to work on that.
He coughs. And twitches a little.
Silence.
He coughs again. And whines softly.
Oh, god. I know what this is. I KNOW WHAT THIS IS! He's going to fucking PUKE! This is what he does when he pukes, he coughs and whines like that!
Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he just has something stuck in his throat. Oh, please let me be wrong. I have to go to work in 6 hours, I can't be up all night with a barfy boy.
Silence.
Cough.
Whine.
Cough.
Louder whine.
Cough. Gag.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"
Wretch.
"Child 2, quick! Get to the bathroom!!"
He gets up and starts heading toward the bathroom. And he starts yelling.
"FUCK! SHIT!! FUCK!!! SHIT!!!"
Oh. Oh, good god.
He makes it to the bathroom and I'm now standing in the middle of the pitch black bedroom. From there I can hear the telltale sounds of stomach contents being emptied. Into the sink. Well, at least it's not the floor. Or my bed.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" he howls from the bathroom. "SHIT! FUCK! SHIT!" He's a yeller, this one. Can't really blame him. Throwing up sucks. But... really with the cursing? I say nothing, I figure it makes him feel better. After all, they did a Mythbusters about that; about how screaming obscenities makes painful things less painful, it's probably helping.
I see the shadow of hubs coming into the room so I grab my pillows and head to Child 2's bed. Hubs is on vacation now, he can deal with this tonight. Happy Father's Day, though! YAY!
I settle into Child 2's bed (which happens to be the most comfortable bed in the house because it has this awesome Tempur-Pedic mattress topper) and in comes Child 1, who squishes in next to me.
It's going to be a long night, isn't it?
The rest of the night drags on with me drifting in and out of consciousness, and every hour or so the house is filled with the sound of "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! FUCK! SHIT! SHIT! FUCK!!!"
Does he really have to scream like that every time? I mean... I know it sucks to be sick like this, but come ON, man! The windows are open! THE WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD CAN HEAR YOU! And did I mention that my mother-in-law is in town and sleeping downstairs?
At some point the screaming and the cursing stopped, which I think was around the same time that my alarm went off and I had to get up for work.
Hubs and I were talking about it when I got home from work (and after I had taken a nice long nap). We agreed that there's nothing quite like listening to your 6 year old child curse and barf like a drunken sailor. "It made me realize I had failed as a parent," he said.
I guess we'll have to work on that.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Join the Flurry!
Somewhere in Colorado a sweet little boy named Jackson is having major brain surgery in a few weeks. Some bloggy moms have gotten together in an effort to help him and his bloggy mom and dad get through this. Below is a message which describes what they're doing:
Need some volunteers from across the country to do a very simple thing! I have a friend with a 9 yr old son who will be having major brain surgery at the end of this month in Colorado. Not only does he have Epilepsy, but also Autism, Cerebral Palsy, and Sensory Processing Disorder, which each one by itself is hard enough on a kiddo, but to be battling all of these can make days and this surgery very difficult.
We would like to flood his mailbox with a bunch of cards and pictures our kids have colored so when he is out of ICU, they can decorate his room! His favorites are trains and dinosaurs.
Are you willing to help? If so, please send a card to the following address; the surgery date is June 29th (this is PO Box and not their actual home address):
Special Happens / St. Aubin Family
9609 S. University Blvd. #630303
Littleton, CO 80163-0303
It's likely that Jackson will be spending the whole month of July in the hospital, so after the "Flurry of Mail," we'll also be organizing care packages and little bits of help. If you're interested in staying informed, please contact me at jillsmo at gmail.com and I'll pass your info along.
For more information, you can visit the blog or visit the Facebook Page
Also, please feel free to copy and paste the information in this post so that the word gets spread as far and wide as possible. THANKS!!
For more information, you can visit the blog or visit the Facebook Page
Also, please feel free to copy and paste the information in this post so that the word gets spread as far and wide as possible. THANKS!!
Friday, June 15, 2012
Fun with curly hair
Sometimes (today, for example) I catch my reflection in a store window or something and I notice I look like this:
It's like I always tell people: It just grows out of my head this way !!!!1!!
It's like I always tell people: It just grows out of my head this way !!!!1!!
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
My apologies to Child 2
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| "A haunted house, AHH! There's a ghost and a vampire. I'm out of here." |
When I got pregnant with Child 1, I wanted a girl. Really badly. I wanted to tie her hair in pigtails and put cute little pink dresses on her. I knew nothing about boys, how do you clean a penis, anyway? I wanted a mini-me; a miniature version of myself that I could play with and have fun with and turn into an awesome adult eventually, no doubt!
When we found out he was a boy, I was disappointed, but I wasn't devastated. I knew we were going to have another one and that I would have another chance. No big deal.
Then when I got pregnant with Child 2, I really really really wanted a girl. I had spent Child 1's baby and toddlerhood watching as the girls his age did everything FIRST. They walked at 9 months, they fucking talked at 12 months. Poor little baby Child 1, who didn't start crawling until 11 months, would sit there in his playgroups while little baby girls would come crawling by, steal his toys, and then crawl away. I wanted a girl, dammit; this one is going to be a girl!
At the ultrasound I was convinced it would be a girl. I was so convinced, in fact, that when the technician cheerfully announced "it's a boy!" I said "WHAT? That can't be right. Really?" But, no. There was the little penis, she could see it clear as day.
I was crushed. I remember sitting in High Tech Burrito afterwards, crying; to Hubs' utter confusion. I knew you weren't supposed to have a preference, especially in Berkeley where people pop the babies out and are so joyful to see them that they don't even look at the nether regions until later. No, you're supposed to just be happy that you have a healthy baby, who cares what the sex is?
I cared. I cared what the sex was, and I wanted a goddamned girl, goddammit! It took me weeks to stop being sad about it, but I also refused to feel guilty. Yes, I was happy my baby was healthy, but I still had a gender preference and so I allowed myself to mourn the loss of the girl I'd always wanted so that I could be over it in time for the birth. And eventually I did, and when he was born I was just happy to have a healthy baby. And besides, I knew how to clean a penis by that time; how the hell do you clean a vagina, anyway?
Tonight I was out for a walk and the streets of Berkeley were filled with 8th graders who were graduating from Middle School. I watched these girls walking around with these teeny little mini dresses and these high heels and all this makeup and I thought.... "man I'm glad I have boys."
I see the girls at the boys' school, and they're into the latest fashions, while I'm totally clueless (are Birkenstocks still in fashion?) They wear heels and have cell phones and carry purses and I think... "man I'm glad I have boys."
I read stories about teenage girls becoming total bitches when they hit the age of 12, about their parents worrying about them getting pregnant, about teenage girls being the worst people on the entire planet (I actually remember that) and I think... "man I'm glad I have boys."
And so, Child 2, my sweet boy, my actual mini-me, despite the penis: I'm sorry I cried when I found out you were a boy. I'm sorry it took me weeks to mourn your gender and the fact that you had the wrong parts. You are the sweetest, funniest, greatest kid I could ever ask for and I'm so glad you're a boy. I'm so glad you are you, because knowing what I know now, if I could go back and change things, I wouldn't want anything at all to have been any different. If you were a girl, you wouldn't be who you are, and who you are is exactly perfectly perfect.
And MAN am I glad I have boys!
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Out of the mouths of babes 33
Child 2: Mama, wouldn't it be funny if you started sleeping during the day instead of at night?
Me: I wish I could sleep during the day, but I have to get you guys to school, and then go to work, and then pick you up from school, during the day.
Child 2: Yeah, that's a pretty annoying life.
Me: I wish I could sleep during the day, but I have to get you guys to school, and then go to work, and then pick you up from school, during the day.
Child 2: Yeah, that's a pretty annoying life.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Bath salts? Really?
I've been reading about bath salts; apparently they've been a craze for a while now. Most of us had probably never heard of them until the Zombie apocalypse started in Florida, but now we have no choice but to be all too much aware of them.
I've also been hearing stories about other things people, mostly kids, use to get high, like eating fucking laundry detergent... and I think WTF???? Laundry detergent?? BATH SALTS???? Kids are that desperate to alter their consciousness that they'll use any old shit they find lying around their house, just because it's accessible? REALLY?? In my day we raided our parents' liquor cabinets, apparently that's not good enough anymore.
I would rather buy my kid a bag of weed than have them snort bath salts. I know that will probably be a wildly unpopular opinion, and will create discussions of parents buying their kids alcohol as long as they drink it in the house, and you really want to say that those people are stupid, but BATH SALTS. Fucking bath salts!!!
I don't want my kids eating laundry detergent because it's legal and accessible. Pot, although illegal, is safer than fucking laundry detergent; and more than anything, I want my kids to stay alive. So if buying them illegal drugs that should be legal is the key to keeping them alive? Fuck it. I would do that.
(To the person in the Homeland Security office who reads my blog: I HAVEN'T ACTUALLY DONE THIS, IT'S ALL JUST HYPOTHETICAL!!!!!!!!)
EDIT: Okay, I'm told that the bath salts people snort and smoke to get high are not the same bath salts that you buy at Bed & Bath, it just has a misleading name. The laundry detergent thing is still totally valid, though!!!!!
EDIT2: Apparently kids also separate the alcohol out of hand sanitizer and drink it. There is so much I don't know....
I've also been hearing stories about other things people, mostly kids, use to get high, like eating fucking laundry detergent... and I think WTF???? Laundry detergent?? BATH SALTS???? Kids are that desperate to alter their consciousness that they'll use any old shit they find lying around their house, just because it's accessible? REALLY?? In my day we raided our parents' liquor cabinets, apparently that's not good enough anymore.
I would rather buy my kid a bag of weed than have them snort bath salts. I know that will probably be a wildly unpopular opinion, and will create discussions of parents buying their kids alcohol as long as they drink it in the house, and you really want to say that those people are stupid, but BATH SALTS. Fucking bath salts!!!
I don't want my kids eating laundry detergent because it's legal and accessible. Pot, although illegal, is safer than fucking laundry detergent; and more than anything, I want my kids to stay alive. So if buying them illegal drugs that should be legal is the key to keeping them alive? Fuck it. I would do that.
(To the person in the Homeland Security office who reads my blog: I HAVEN'T ACTUALLY DONE THIS, IT'S ALL JUST HYPOTHETICAL!!!!!!!!)
EDIT: Okay, I'm told that the bath salts people snort and smoke to get high are not the same bath salts that you buy at Bed & Bath, it just has a misleading name. The laundry detergent thing is still totally valid, though!!!!!
EDIT2: Apparently kids also separate the alcohol out of hand sanitizer and drink it. There is so much I don't know....
Sunday, June 3, 2012
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