Archive | March 2, 2012

Sluts and whores. Mr. Limbaugh is an expert.

Rush Limbaugh’s feet are so far in his mouth, his ears are wearing shoes.
Unless you’ve been under a rock the last two days, you know about him calling a college student a prostitute after her testimony for birth control to be covered for co-eds. (This article here Obama calls Sandra Fluke for support.)
What’s even worse than that first comment was the next one he said- “If we are going to pay for your contraceptives and thus pay for you to have sex, we want something for it,” Limbaugh said. “We want you to post the videos online so we can all watch.”
Holy mother of fuckwits! Are you high Mr. LIMBAUGH? Wait, don’t answer that.

How on earth does that shit come out of your mouth? Did you have a Freudian slip and think about what you were going to do on your lunch hour? Troll the internet for co-eds having sex while using birth control?
The millions of dollars Clear Channel pays you must qualify you as an OB/GYN. Or a PhD in female studies. Because all women that get the Pill or IUDs, or Nuvarings, are loose labia-ed whores on street corners desperate to get laid. I guess. You are an expert on this.

You, Mr.Limbaugh were a virgin before wedlock, I am certain. RIGHT? Clearly those that live in glass houses can throw stones. I’m so glad you saved yourself for marriage. I mean, for the first wedding. Did you get your virginity replaced before the subsequent trio of matrimonies? Does your wife use contraception? Or did any of them? Because you don’t have any children. I’m guessing the rhythm method has been good to you. That, or God has saved us all from your seed, which should be proof to all liberal non-believers that there is in fact a God up there looking out for all of us.
I’m curious if you use Viagra or Pos-t-vac? Those are covered by insurance. It’s sick that you need to have so much sex that you need to have those things paid for by insurance companies. At least put it on the Internet for gosh sakes. Wait. Scratch that.

Oh, this is none of my business. You are right, neither is a women’s right to contraception, YOUR business.


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The world of a 3rd grader.

Chaperoning for field trips is not my thing. Yet, I do it all the time. Why am I suckered in to this type of thing? I volunteered for my son’s 3rd grade field trip to the science center. It exhausts me to be around children that aren’t mine. Who am I kidding? It exhausts me being around my OWN children! Which is ironic since I’m  so involved with PTA and constantly find myself with kids. My level of respect for teachers and staff in the schools always increases ten-fold after one of these instances of volunteering. How everyday they wrangle 20+ kids is beyond me. Beyond me I say.

The science center is one of those giant places that has the potential to lose a kid or two. Chaperoning to a place like the theater where they sit still in a room together then load the bus, is usually less exhausting by nature. So several hours with 8 year old boys running around with exhibits, not to mention other schools who are on their field trips, was a recipe for exhaustion and possibly an Amber Alert.

But you know what? It wasn’t so bad. Yes, I soaked in the tub that night for a half an hour and went to bed a whole hour early, I couldn’t cook dinner and had to get take-out, but aside from the physical exhaustion, the day went without a hitch.

My group of boys was well behaved, yes it included Owen, and three others. All pretty quiet, well behaved, stayed together- I didn’t have  to put out a search party, they did what I asked. Pretty awesome. This doesn’t mean there weren’t other kids that needed to be rescued after straying from their group (Oh Betty, when you hide behind poles and crawl on the floor, your chaperone can’t see you.) Or boys on the bus that I wanted to pull a can of whoop ass on who just wouldn’t sit. still. (Dougie…cough<<ritalin>>cough)

Oh did I mention that on the way to the city I sat in the very back seat of the bus? Oh snap. If I wasn’t going to toss my cookies in front of a bunch of little kids. If it weren’t for the little whipper snapper Susie who sat in front of me asking me riddles and jokes the whole way, I might have lost it. More on Susie later. (And yes, children’s names have been changed to protect their security. Or keep me from being sued. Whichever.)

Riddle: If a cowboy rode out to the desert on Friday, stayed three days and then rode out on Friday, how was that possible? *Answer to come later.

As if my day with little kids wasn’t enough, that evening was a fundraiser for the school at the local McDonald’s. Where the staff is working as employees, and a percentage of profits go to your school. Owen was dying to go. He needed to check out his posse. Translation, I think he wanted to see if the girl he is crushing on was going to be there.

Earlier in the day, Susie- the funny riddle one, was acting as informant to Owen regarding his gal pal crush- Dahlia. Yes, the whole class is aware of Owen and Dahlia’s relationship. I think a relationship in 3rd grade exists in terms of your friends talk to their friends and tell them what you think or like while out on recess. No actual interaction takes place. It’s all about the relaying of messages between your people and her people.

Susie was reporting on Dahlia’s whereabouts during the day. Susie is one sharp cookie. And then she cleared it up to me, his mom, “I like Owen as a friend, just a friend.” Thanks for clearing that up.

At McDonald’s that night, Owen put on his faux leather jacket and a cap. Not a baseball cap, a skate boarder cap. It’s got a little more edge. His faux leather jacket is really cool. He was excited when he got it. It’s black and has a ‘Fonz’ edge for this millenium. So with his jacket and cap, off we went for McFlurries.

It was packed! Our local McDonald’s was standing room only and a-buzz with families and staff from the school. Owen scoped out the staff working behind the counter. He was distracted checking out the room so much he didn’t know what to order. We went with milkshakes. But just for him. No fake dairy crap for this vegan wannabe.

We waved at a few people, acknowledged friends but I followed Owen letting him take the lead. Where to sit? This was tricky. Well, there wasn’t much choice. So we took the only free table over by the corner where he didn’t see anyone he knew. But not to worry. Because out of nowhere comes Susie! ‘Hey Owen, when did you get here?’ She saunters over with her ice cream sundae. She was clearly working the room. Saying hi to folks, keeping tabs on parents, you know- I see her in PR or something in twenty years. She mentions casually to Owen, “Lily is here you know”.

Owen, “cool. I didn’t see her.”

Susie, “Yeah, I told her you were here. She just kind of was like, oh my gosh, and then was like ahhhh, and then laughed and then was like, okay”

Owen, (laughs casually) “cool.”

Susie walks away.

Me, “Who’s Lily?”

Owen, “The other girl that has a crush on me and I have a crush on too. Both Dahlia and Lily like me, and I like them both too.”

Me, “Gosh, you’re quite the popular one huh?”

Owen, “Yeah, it’s because of my blue eyes, and blond hair.” (Smiles, flicks his bangs Beiber style.)

Me, “I didn’t see Lily, where is she sitting?”

Owen, “Over by the door, I saw her earlier.”

Smooth buddy, you never let on.

Then I see this boy about Owen’s age, call over, “Hey Owen- ‘sup?”

Owen- “Hey Juan. ‘Sup?”

They each nod at each other, then go on their separate ways. What is this?? School of Snoop Dogg? I’m just laughing at some of the ‘maturisms’ these kids have picked up from what they see on adults, teens, and media. So far so good. But I’ve got my eye on them.

So we left. Owen said it was a good thing he didn’t go over and talk to Lily, she would have just stood there in awe.

Now don’t get the wrong idea. He doesn’t do any of this with swagger. He’s pretty straightforward, no nonsense. Just his observations and honesty. I guess he pulls off the suave without even trying.

No offense husband honey- but where does he get this from?

Oh, and the answer to the riddle above: His horse was named Friday. That’s how he rode out three days later.

Kids these days. Sigh.