Thanks for nothing.

ABC News under fire for not reporting taped beating


I was poking around the internet today (something I find I'm doing far too often lately) when I came across this story. Apparently, Primetime on ABC was doing a segment on difficulties that stepfamilies encounter when they captured child abuse on tape. The video shows a really big man slapping his 15 year old daughter, then proceeding to jump on her and punch her repeatedly while screaming in her face. You can find the video here, if you're interested, but be warned that it is extremely graphic.


More disturbing than the beating itself is the fact that ABC never contacted authorities. The first time police saw the video was 3 years after the incident, when the segment aired on national television. Due to the negligence of ABC, the statute of limitations has expired, and no charges will be brought.


This tape made me want to throw up. Now, anyone who's ever been a parent knows that sometimes you have to restrain yourself from wringing a little neck, and can understand the frustration of raising a difficult teenager...but a huge man beating the fuck out of a girl who is probably a third of his size is just over the top and inexcusable. She screams, she cries, she curls up into a fetal position to protect herself, yet he keeps on beating her and screaming obscenities and calling her a "dirty little bitch". Her stepmother does nothing.


ABC should be ashamed of themselves for letting this asshole walk away without consequences.


There is so much abuse that goes undocumented, unpunished, unproven...countless children who have nobody to speak for them, and ABC catches this shit on TAPE and does nothing.


What must she have been thinking? She knew the tape was running. She must have surely thought that the police would be knocking on her door very, very soon...how must she have felt when they never came?


The lady upstairs must have heard me screaming last night...she will ask me what happened.

Coach is sure to ask me about the rug burns on my legs...

My teacher is going to notice the bruise on my nose...right?

Didn't that guy over there just see me get hit?


Those who stand idly by are just as guilty.

The Man Purse

Apparently, an item masquerading as a "European Carry All" has been gaining popularity right here in the good old U.S. of A. Carry all my ASS, it's a purse, and I'm told that there are men who carry these things and claim to not be gay.


Logically, I can see why these things have popped up. Between the cell phone, iPod, PDA, keys, wallet, and whatever else men carry around, I can see where the common man would start to envy our purses. Ghengis, for example, emptied his pockets once and I was nothing short of amazed at how much shit he had in those jeans. I was seriously waiting for him to pull out a midget or something, it was crazy.


Women can keep their entire lives in a good purse. Right now, in my bag, I have enough supplies that if my car went off the road and into a ravine, I could probably survive comfortably for several days. Purses are arguably the greatest fashion invention of all time, why should the fairer sex be the only ones to reap the benefits?


As I was reading about these abominations of man fashion, I decided to share my discovery with the husband.


K: "I guess man purses are all the rage lately."

K's husband: "WHAT?"

K: "Man purses. I guess they're called 'European Carry All's'"

K's husband: "What kind of a fuckin' faggot would have one of those?"

K: "Well, they're like a purse, but they're disguised as a cooler or something so it doesn't look feminine"

K's husband: "It's still a fuckin' purse."

K: "So you wouldn't use one?"

[stunned silence]

K's husband: "There's a better chance of me using tampons than carrying around one of those fuckin' fairy bags."


Well. I guess there will be no man purse under the tree for the husband this holiday season.

No rest for those who are f'd up in the head...

I've been having nightmares all week. Last night, I dreamed that my soon-to-be-ex stepmonster murdered my dad and siblings with a hammer. And in a MiniMart no less, right next to the slushie machine.


Why can't I dream about sex or something...what the hell.

Take off your t-shirt, poser bitch.

Recently, I've been seeing a shitload of teenaged girls running around in t-shirts proclaiming their love of classic rock. I've been rather puzzled by this phenomenon...clearly, this little blonde bimbette wasn't even a twinkle in her daddy's eye when Yellow Submarine was released, and the redhead over yonder didn't know who the hell Black Sabbath was before Ozzy Osbourne had his shit laid bare on reality TV.

I actually witnessed a conversation about blondie's unwitting tribute to the Beatles:

Girl: "Oh, your t-shirt is so cute."
Blondie: "Thanks!"
Girl: "Yellow is a good color for you."
Blondie: "Right? And I LOVE the ocean, so it's perfect."
Girl: "I didn't know submarines came in yellow."
Blondie: "Yeah, I was kinda confused, but whatever. It's hot, right?"


No bullshit. This is exactly how it went down.

I finally came across the origin of these shirts: WalMart, aka my own personal 7th Circle of Hell. They had a rack full of them for the bargain price of $8.97, everything from AC/DC to Twisted Sister.

I found myself quite annoyed. I've always been of the opinion that you shouldn't wear a band's t-shirt unless you actually listen to their music. I don't give a fuck if yellow is your color, or if the logo looks good stretched across your tits, or if the sparkles on the Rolling Stones trademark tongue will stand out when the strobe lighting comes on at the club...YOU ARE A POSER. Your hot ass is not saving you from being a moron, and you know you'd be much more comfortable in your favorite Ashlee Simpson wife beater.

Shape up, little girls, you're giving those of us who actually have decent taste in music a bad name.

Imagine my surprise when I came across this little gem on Compfused today. Apparently, I'm not the only one who feels this way.


Take Off Your T-Shirt Video

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Losing it

Today, I had to brave WalMart with all three animals in tow. Normally, I wouldn't, but the husband is out of town and being out of milk and bread I didn't really have much choice. Middle Child, as you may know, is autistic, and has been getting increasingly difficult as time goes on, particularly in public places. Well, today he was in rare form, and he broke away from me and ran about 10 feet before I caught him.


As luck would have it, there was a guy in crutches standing in the 10 items or less line who got bumped as Middle Child ran by. It wasn't anything that would have knocked the guy over, but enough to be annoying to someone who is already off balance. I had my mouth open to give the obligatory, "Oh my GOD I'm so sorry" apology that I am used to giving when my son misbehaves, but before I could get there, he had a few words of his own.


"WHAT THE FUCK! FUCKING LITTLE BASTARD..." He and his mother glared at me before turning back to the line.


I was absolutely stunned. I've had people be less than understanding in such a situation before, but never to the level of swearing at my child. I must have turned beet red because I could practically feel the steam coming out of my ears.


K: "EXCUSE ME?"


Nothing.


K: "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO MY SON?"

The mother turns around.


M: "He just bumped my son! He's on crutches!"
K: "I saw that, and I apologize, but tell your son to watch his mouth."
M: "Then maybe you should control your brats."


This was the point at which I absolutely lost it. I knew the day would come that I would have it out with a stranger over my son's disability, but I really didn't think this would be that day.


K: "It was an ACCIDENT. I've apologized."
M: "An ACCIDENT? They're running through the store like maniacs!"
K: "There is NO EXCUSE for you people to talk like that in front of MY small children."
M: "CONTROL YOUR BRATS, LADY."
K: "MY SON IS AUTISTIC, YOU JERK. Do you have ANYTHING ELSE you'd like to say???"


[silence]


K: "Yeah, I didn't think so."

[more silence]


K: "Perhaps if you'd given me a chance to apologize and explain before calling my child a vulgar name, you would have known that."

M: [under her breath] "Then perhaps you shouldn't take him out in public."


I had to walk away at that point. If I'd hung around any longer, she would have been on the floor bleeding.


I stood in a line far away from Mrs. Bitch and her demon spawn, one hand on Middle Child (who was pitching quite a fit), and the other on the cart, trying to check out calmly as about a hundred people stared at me. Some had that, "You poor thing..." look on their faces, and others just shook their heads at my apparent inability to control my brats. As any special needs parent will tell you, this is the kind of moment that nightmares are made of. I finally got to the car, ushered the kids in, and took a moment to breathe as Middle Child screamed in the back seat.


Out of nowhere, this lady walked up to me.


"I just wanted to say that I have 2 children of my own who are autistic, and I know what you're going through. Those people were heartless and cruel, and you handled it the best you could."


Right there, in the parking lot in front of WalMart, I burst into tears in front of a perfect stranger.


Anyone who knows me well would tell you that this just isn't something that I would ever do. I am not hyper emotional in public. I do not make scenes, and will generally be the first to knock those who do. I avoid drama and conflict with other people whenever I can. I've even been complimented on my level of calm by strangers who have observed me quietly dealing with one of my fit-throwing children. It took some gimpy asshole in a WalMart for me to push aside that level of calm that I work so hard to maintain.


I didn't get this lady's name, but her taking a few minutes to talk to me and tell me that I wasn't a raving maniac was one of the kindest and most generous things another human being has ever done for me. It was as if she was sent specifically to keep me from losing it altogether. An experience like that isn't something that you can bitch to your girlfriends about over coffee; only someone who's been through it can truly understand what you're feeling, and can offer words that actually make you feel like you're not crazy.


So here I sit, still shaking, going over my actions in my mind, wondering what I could have (or should have) done differently. Perhaps I should have ignored the enormous asshole who was swearing at my son, and walked away. Maybe I should have done without the damned milk and not gone to WalMart at all. I don't have the answers. All I know for sure is that this won't be the last time something like that happens, and knowing that is what is making me want to throw up right now.

Dreams

I had the most fucked up dream last night. I think it all started because I was on a forum last night and someone posted a topic: "Who is the most fucked up psycho bitch you know?" Naturally, I thought of my mother, whose antics included various types of emotional and physical abuse during my 19 years of living with her. This topic got me thinking about her, which I haven't done in quite a while, so naturally my subconscious betrayed me by filling my night with visions of the nut job.


I dreamed that I was in the supermarket when she suddenly appeared to kidnap me at knifepoint. She threw me in the back of a van and transported me back to her place, holding me captive in my childhood bedroom. She then informed me that she had the bodies of the UPS guy and the mailman in the basement, and that if I tried to escape, she'd slit my throat just like she'd done to them. Apparently, she'd ordered a bunch of porcelein dolls C.O.D. off of the Home Shopping Network and hadn't wanted to pay.


So there I was, trapped in this hellish room with Care Bears curtains and a twin sized bed, while she was banging some dude in the next room. Then, my imagined little sister toddled up and got backhanded for interrupting. I scooped her up and went out the window.


We ran through some woods and ended up in some dude's backyard (apparently a safehouse of some sort) who transported us to my Dad's house. My Dad took me back to the house to pick up my shit, only to be met by my psycho mom who started gnawing on my leg like Cujo. I whacked her in the head with a red Swingline stapler and headed to the basement, which was filled with classic arcade-style video games. Ms. PacMan ate my quarter, much to my dismay. Suddenly, Cujo came at me again. I grabbed one of those Duck Hunt arcade guns and put her down for good. Then I stole all her video games, hauled them to my own basement, and we had the most kick-ass poker night ever.


Finally, I sold her house, left her homeless and destitute (apparently, she came back to life after Duck Hunt), and bought myself a shit ton of jewelry.


A lot of the dream makes perfect sense. Other parts...not so much, at least to me. Freud would surely have a field day with this one.


She currently doesn't speak to me. She called me this past Christmas and I didn't call her back, so I guess that means I don't speak to her either, but somehow she's still here. Even though I haven't seen or talked to her in 2 years, she still has the power to reduce me to a scared little girl in my dreams.


The mind is a mysterious thing. Consciously, you can say that you're over it and you don't care anymore, but your brain knows different, and will occasionally remind you that you're not as "over it" as you thought you were.

Hey! We haven't done THIS in a while...

_______

In other news, the Aussies are finding me by googling the phrase "Coke Zero Spreads Cancer". I also have a returning visitor from Belgium, of all places. Belgium! Kinda random. Anyway, I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to my international visitors (accidental and otherwise) for the current shittiness of my blog. Please do not assume that all American bloggers are boring, unimaginative, uninteresting, and dumb enough to stab themselves on the back of the neck with pens. Thank you.

How many ways am I a complete tard?

Let me count them...


1) A bag of onions dropped to the back of a cabinet that I rarely look in, and turned into this:

Perhaps a sign that I should clean the cabinets more often?

2) As my husband made the shopping list, he specifically noted that the eggs I buy should be WHITE. The reason for this is that last year, I came home with 2 dozen BROWN eggs for easter egg dying activities. Never did it dawn on me that I had to buy white. Ever seen brownish pink eggs? No? Well, I have.


3) While I shop, I HAVE to cross things off my list as I go or I would wander aimlessly. If I forget my pen, I spend twice as much time shopping.


4) I thought I lost my pen, and while I was at the checkout, I dug through my purse like a nut and looked all around the floor. It was one of my purple stick pens (which are kinda hard to come by) and I was kinda pissed at myself for losing it.

Back at home, as I leaned into the car to get the groceries, something in my hair got caught up in the door and ended up stabbing me in the neck, breaking the skin and leaving a nasty little welt.

Up side: I found my pen. W00T.

I laughed myself silly on this one

Watch Video

LooHOO...serHER...

DISCLAIMER

As you know, I so rarely edit a post after the fact, and I never retract, but judging from my comments I'm getting a feeling I should clarify.


I am not saying that all people who play RPG's are pathetic losers. I am saying that those who spend most of their daylight hours playing them, in lieu of actual human interactions and relationships, ARE. Those who take it as seriously as they would an event in real life are subject to ridicule.

Those wise souls who acknowledge that there needs to be a balance between online and real life are NOT losers. As I said, to each his own. I don't have time for that shit, but some do, so more power to them.

______

As it turns out, many people pay $15 a month to play World Of Warcraft, which is an online role playing game (or RPG, as it is known to geeks the world over). There are various guilds and I guess they run around blowing each other up and casting "Level 12: Magic Wand" spells upon each other for the sole purpose of wasting time until there comes a day when they are finally laid. Whatever. To each his own. I've generally paid little attention.

Today I came across a fairly hilarious story. Apparently, a popular WoW player died IRL ("in real life", to those of us who don't speak geek) and her fellow players decided to have an online "funeral". Someone hacked into the dead chick's account, stood her by a lake and spread the word so other players could come to this location (specifically picked out because she "loved the water") to pay their respects.

This, alone, is somewhat odd...but whatever. Again, to each his own. But a rival guild, seeing an opportunity to blast the asses of unsuspecting enemies, planned an ambush. Oh yeah, and they captured the whole thing on video.

WoW Funeral Ambush

The video flashes back and forth between the funeral (as I said, it's on a lake, and there's this mournful music playing and a line forming to go see the dead chick by the water) and the guys running through the woods to launch the attack (also set to music). When the scene goes to the funeral, you see a couple of the guys from the rival guild getting into the receiving line.

Suddenly, one of them walks up to dead chick, and blows her away. Then everyone else jumps out of the bushes and carnage unfolds.

Angry message board threads popped up all over the internet, some angrily protesting such a heinous act, and others pointing and laughing.

LOLZ, U GOT PWN3D N00B!


Sadly, I can't help but point and laugh myself. A funeral? Online? For somebody you've never actually met, and could quite honestly be playing possum?


Some people are really fucked up and sad, thus making them open to ridicule. Heh heh.

Knee Deep

My apologies for my lack of posts this week. I have spent the last 5 days holding puke buckets and cleaning my carpet with a variety of harsh substances to rid it of shit stains. Youngest Child has Rotavirus, and we're all suffering for it. He's done nothing but puke, shit, and lie on the couch since Sunday.

I hope to have something interesting to report this weekend.

Anyway, I leave you with the man who has the meanest friends in the world. Seriously, this pained me to watch.


Winning the Lottery

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What's worse? A week of puke and shit, or having your friends trick you into thinking you won the lottery?

Tough call.

Asking for it

Butt-raped by an elk


"AAAAHHHH!!! WHAT IS THAT??? HE'S HUMPING MEEEEEE!!!"

A PC for the modern, independent woman

HomemadeSexToys.com


"We started out with a Barb*e PC, partly for its pretty floral design and pink and purple color scheme, but also because the smaller size of the case made it ideal for mounting and riding."



Oh shit...I can't breathe. This is just too good.


Be sure to peruse the rest of the site, there's a pocket pussy made out of a rubber glove and a popcorn tub that I highly recommend.