Chicks are Stupid @chicksarestupid - Tumblr Blog

Where Have I Been?

I make fun of lots of things. I make jokes. Some are funny, and some are groan worthy. I’m proud of all of them. Busting on chicks has always been easy for me since I’m surrounded by all kinds of them, and I am one myself.

The thing that makes me sad about this (I’m lying. I mean annoyed.) is not when people don’t get the joke; it is when people pretend not to get the joke. The result is that people think I spend my life seething in anger over chicks being stupid.

When something happens in life that I think I can turn into a funny rant about moms, single gals, married gals, workaholic gals, you name it, I sometimes sit down at my computer and knock out a funny tirade. I do not sit around all day stewing in hate and anger. But it turns out people really think I do.

You’re welcome to think I’m spending 24 hours of my day brooding in crankiness if all you know of me is this blog. If you’ve known me for over 20 years and think I scream woman-hating rants at trees from my front porch? How tuned out of our friendship were you?

I once heard 3rd person that someone made a comment about me and how I make fun of people who won’t eat gluten. I don’t do that. I have about 30 hours of college-level nutrition courses under my belt. I could school you six ways from Sunday about Celiac Disease. I asked a group of friends who have known me since I was 19 why anyone would think I’d make fun of a person with a disease, and the response was “well, because of your blog.” I’ve even had friends say to me “I know you’re going to yell at me for this, but…” I challenge them to give me one example in the last couple decades when I have yelled at any friend in anger. Or in any negative emotion. I’m still waiting for that example.

I’m still a wiseass in real life. I’m just not a wiseass on this blog as much as I want to be. Over the past few years, people online pretend they don’t understand when a joke is being made. We’re told what we can and can’t joke about because it might hurt the feelings of someone we’ve never met. I’d never read a comments section (if I had one, but I’m pretty sure I deleted it). I never leave comments when I see something online that annoys me. I can’t wrap my brain around why anyone would do that. After watching the last few seasons of Homeland, I’m convinced those aren’t real people anyway. But this new world order of hurt feelings prevents me from wanting to be funny on the Internet. Between people getting fake offended or believing that I am the red character from Inside Out, I’ve gone over a year without writing anything here. My sincere apologies to the three of you who were reading regularly. Text me. I promise to respond with the F word within the hour.

Turns Out I’m a Sexist

Well shit. I’m a sexist.

It’s awful logging on to social media to see that something I do or say is now frowned upon. How am I supposed to keep up with the ins and outs of being offended these days? It’s exhausting. If I’m exhausted, imagine how tired the Serially Offended are. And how bad would this all suck if I had feelings?

I learned I’m sexist because I call women bitches, cunts, and other nasty terms. In my defense, I only call women bitches and cunts when they are being bitch-ass cunts. I’m also not allowed to say bossy. Because who would say that about a man? Why is it ok for a man to be bossy? They don’t get called bossy. No one says men are bitchy in the workplace! Waaah!

Look. I am an equal opportunity name caller. Women can be assholes, and men can be whiney twats. The name I call them does not matter; their behavior does. No, it’s not ok for anyone to be bossy, bitchy, cunty, dickish, or douchey. But if that’s what you’re being, then that’s what I’m going to say. The best way to get me to stop with the sexist name calling is for people to stop being crusty old coozes.

As a compromise, when men are being pains in my ass, I’ll now call them silly bitches and yappy cunts. When women are being pains in my ass, I’ll start calling them dicks and assholes. Better? Now that we’ve taken any reference to one’s sex out of the equation, is everything fixed? NO. They’re words. Sticks and stone, pussies. Toughen up already.

Sh!t You Must Get Over By Age 40

Look out, world.

I turn 40 this month. Think I’ve softened one iota on stupidity in my advanced age? Oh no. This Bicentennial Baby intends to double-down. Who better to make an itemized list of all the shit you must – nay! – are REQUIRED to get over once you hit 40 than yours truly?

1) Your body: I did try to settle this years ago, but I wasn’t successful. If you are 40 or over and you think you’re fat, shut your fucking pumpkin-spice-latte hole already. This goes both for chicks who are actually fat and chicks who just think they’re fat. Neither of you are permitted to bitch about being fat anymore. Done. Stop it. STOP IT. If you’re not fat but won’t stop thinking (or pretending to think) you are fat, see a therapist and do it yesterday. Now if you are fat, I’ll give you a couple of options: Figure out how to get un-fat or learn to appreciate the body you have. I don’t care which one of these options you pick, but you must pick one and quit your bitching.

BE IT KNOWN! Anyone who calls themselves fat will, in return, BE CALLED FAT. BY ME. REGULARLY. Go on. I dare you to call yourself fat in front of me. DARE YOU. So help me if any of you want to test me on this. Wait, no…so help YOU. I will type “Fatty McWideAss” on your Facebook page. I’ll call you “Dimples Von ChubbyRump” in front of your kid. I’ll tag you in pictures with the caption “36 weeks along!” I can’t express my lack of tolerance on this issue enough. If you’re going to talk that way about yourself, then I will join you until you stop. *Throws gauntlet*

2) Your childhood: If you had a shitty childhood for any number of reasons, get over it. Poverty? Abuse? That all sounds horrible. But by age 40, you have had plenty of time to see any number of therapists, support groups, pastors, friends, and whomever the hell else to work through all that garbage. Am I saying ignore or deny the horrid days of your youth? Of course not. But by age 40, you should not be blaming your crappy upbringing for your lot in life today. Daily dwelling on a shitty childhood sounds like quite the load to carry into the next decade.

3) Your 20s: Ah, our 20s. College graduation. New jobs. First marriages. Crazy broads being jealous that their friends were getting married and therefore marrying the first assclown who comes along. I spent my 20s hating my job and having no desire to get married or have kids. In my 30s, I went on to hate most jobs, get married, and (thank the Maker) never have kids. I’ve spent way too much time being angry about my treatment in the workplace. I’m still angry about it when it happens nowadays, but I don’t live with it every waking moment. That said, this is minor compared to the gals who married and had kids with asshole husbands. Oy. If a shitty job wasn’t easy to get over, then I can only imagine how tough a divorce and custody battle would be to deal with. That said, DEAL WITH IT. Again…therapy. Your church. Running. CrossFit. I don’t care if you talk to a shrink or throw a kettle bell in a garage gym with a guy named Chet, but by 40, you can’t STILL let it get to you.

Let me be clear: We were all allowed to feel shitty about things, let things affect us, let things get to us, and let things shape us. But we’re 40 now. I’m happy to say I’m heading into this next decade not dwelling on any shitty thing that has happened to me in the past 39 years. That would be, well, stupid.

#BicentennialBaby 40 ChicksAreStupid

Getting Paid to Pretend to be Abstinent

Crap. Five years ago I wrote a blog about Jessica Simpson called “Abstinence: You’re Doing it Wrong”. That’s what I wanted to name this one! Now I have to go with a less obvious yet equally snarky joke for my blog title. Thinking is the worst.

Have we discussed my distaste for children? I think we may have glossed over that here before.

I’m so out of touch with pop culture (plus I’m mildly lazy) that I haven’t been able to properly make fun of Bristol Palin in a timely manner. But fear not! I’m gonna.

Bristol Palin, the modern-day poster child for abstinence (pause for laughter…hahahaha! Oh, my ribs!), had her second baby out of wedlock last year. Is this the part you think I’m going to start making fun? It’s not. But a gal who has never been married who has two kids from two dads and made her living giving abstinence-only speeches? That shit writes itself. Oh abstinent folk! Is it lonely up there on Mount Pious? No. No it’s not. Because you’re all busy getting railed up there.

Here’s the part I’m going to bash:

“I know this has been, and will be, a huge disappointment to my family, to my close friends, and to many of you”. – Bristol Palin

Yeah, she said that! Allow me to come full circle:

I can’t stand kids. Can’t. Effing. Stand. Them. But if my unwed 23-yr-old cousin called me to tell me she was pregnant, no one in our family would consider her a “huge disappointment”. Being a young single mom sounds like a very hard road…no, I’m sure it IS a very hard road. But it happens every day, and every day we see examples of these young women pulling themselves up by their bootstraps and getting shit handled. Do I want my unwed cousin to accidentally have a baby right now? No. (If you’re reading this, Krissy, use a condom.) But would the family be disappointed if that happened? Of course not. On the contrary, my mother would probably move across the street from her just to suck up the new baby smell.

For me, an accidental pregnancy would have been my nightmare. Because I loathe kids…did we touch on that? OK, good. So for me, yes, I would be disappointed had that happened to me. But would I have let everyone down? Including my family? Of course not! That is what families do! If I got knocked up by a felon I met at a dive bar at age 26, my mom would’ve been planning the baby shower and painting the nursery. When things aren’t ideal, a family makes the best of it. Unless of course you and your family are traveling the globe pointing fingers at all the fornicators while spouting “Abstinence Only!” at the top of your Alaskan lungs.

To sum it all up, it’s a little sad that this gal couldn’t be happy about her pregnancy. Chicks have gotten knocked up in far worse circumstances than this! I know I wouldn’t be happy about a pregnancy since I detest those little beasts, but she obviously enjoys being a mom. But I’d guess (accurately) that what she really meant was how disappointed she is not to bring home a quarter of a million a year in speaker’s fees for her Pro-Abstinence speaking engagements.

#abstinence #childfree #BristolPalin

2nd Place & Skinny vs. 1st Place & Badass

When I first read this << blog >> over the summer, I instantly loved it. I’m only now getting around to sharing it because I am lazy.

I really want you to read it, but if you don’t, here’s the recap: Serena Williams and some other chick tennis player I’ve never heard of (mostly because she’s not Serena Williams) discussed their body types. The other gal and her coach said the plan was to keep her smaller and not a tower of muscles like Williams because she wants to look like a woman. In this other gal’s (whose name is Agnieszka Radwanska...I got around to googling it) words, she wanted to stay slender because “I’m a girl”. She’s 27. Good grief do I dislike this chick.

The blog I linked to in the first sentence was a great take on this absurdity. It’s a “What If” openly wondering how the Williams/Whatsername article would sound if it featured Tom Brady as Williams and Russell Wilson as Whatsername:

<<Brady said that one particular long-sleeved garment would help him go unnoticed in public. “My arms are really fit, but I wanted to cover them, because when I do people don’t recognize me as much,” he said.>>

For what it’s worth, I’d kill for Williams’ arms. Obviously that’s just metaphor because I’m not even willing to set down ice cream for those arms. But the gal has dynamite arms.

<<Russell, who struggled this year before a run to the Superbowl, said that any gain in muscle could hurt his trademark speed and finesse, but he also acknowledged that how he looked mattered to him. “Of course I care about that as well, because I’m a boy,” Russell said.>>

Could you fucking imagine? This makes me hate Russell Wilson, and he didn’t even say that. Here’s another fun one:

<<Matt Ryan, the slender, blond quarterback for the Atlanta Falcons who has been the highest-paid male athlete for more than a decade because of his lucrative endorsements, said he still wished he could be thinner. “I always want to be skinnier with less cellulite; I think that’s every boy’s wish,” he said, laughing.>>

It was Maria Sharapova, a 28 year old WOMAN who said that.

It’s sad and hilarious all at once. What type of professional athlete would rather look cute in shorts instead of being the top athlete in his/her sport? Who does that? Stupid chicks; that’s who. If looking like “a girl” is more important to you than being number one, perfect. Because you’re not. I don’t follow tennis, but I know who Serena Williams is. I had to google the rest of the names.

I love the way this blogger made the original article look absurd. Men don’t refer to themselves as boys, so what’s with chicks doing that? Chicks, broads, gals...I use all of those because they make me laugh, and because I’m not a nice person. But I don’t refer to myself as a “girl”.

I’m so sick of the media saying we have to love all bodies because they are all beautiful blah blah blah. Oh shut up. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and all that crap. Instead of teaching young girls that their body is beautiful no matter what, how about we teach them “Who cares who thinks you’re beautiful? It’s better to be kind, smart, and hard working.” Sounds like a better message than telling us being overweight is beautiful, but slender girls are “skinny bitches”.

In summary, if I looked like Serena Williams, I would be writing this blog naked. I would also answer my front door naked and grocery shop in a bikini.

#serena williams #OneHotMessBlog

An Open Letter to People Who Write Open Letters To Cam Newton

Gotcha! This is not an open letter. Those are stupid and I’ve determined we (the entire Internet) should knock them the fuck off.

Instead, this is a blog about crazy Internet broads complaining about the wrong thing.

I’m going to talk about a few young people: Justin Bieber, Johnny Manziel, and Cam Newton. But first, let’s start with me. I turn 40 this year. (And please prepare for me to be nothing short of insufferable from here on out anytime someone says something patronizing.) These young men (and believe me, I want to call them kids because I am turning 40 this year and am closer in age to their mothers) have a few things in common. They have a talent someone is willing to pay for. And pay they do! Because these 20something all came into millions at a VERY young age.

We’ve all heard stories of people my age and older (Did I mention? I’ll be 40 this year.) who win the lottery and blow it because they are too stupid to know how to manage money and don’t understand taxes. It’s sad. But imagine if you were a 20something male who suddenly had over a million dollars in the bank. Maybe you’d want to get high with friends and drag race a Ferrari down a residential street or be in tabloid pics every other week with the Hollywood starlet du jour. Maybe you’d want to ditch work to go to Vegas or get pulled over by the cops while you and your (allegedly) drunk girlfriend are getting into an (alleged) physical tiff? Maybe you’d start a charity to enhance the lives of underprivileged kids?

If we’re being honest, we almost can’t blame a young person for acting a fool once millions of dollars come into his life. Sports cars, drunk chicks, Vegas? Sounds like a fine afternoon. But starting a charity and doing very little fucking up in the public eye after you become uber rich? We could only hope most young men go down that path.

Get to the point already, right? OK. Moms: STOP WRITING OPEN LETTERS ABOUT CAM NEWTON. Fuck.

The NFL has what I’ll call a “slight image problem”. It has its share of assholes who beat women or overpopulate the world by breeding a baker’s dozen of kids. Direct your complaints toward those fools! But complain because you don’t like his touchdown dance? An obnoxious victory dance is exactly what we should expect from a 20something in the NFL; community outreach programs for kids in his hometown are not. And to bitch because he balled up and tossed a 12th man Kleenex, er, flag? Shut up. This is a guy who got into trouble as a teen, worked his tail off, made it to the NFL, and NOW the Internet trolls say he’s “classless“. He has the option of spending his downtime on top of a super model but instead chooses to spend it serving Thanksgiving meals to kids.

Look, I’m not a Carolina fan. I’m barely even a football fan. I just think there are so many great things out there to complain about. There are many idiots in the NFL to complain about! But I don’t think Cam Newton is one of them. I have to believe these chicks are writing these whiny open letters for the blog hits. Let this be the official start to my test on whether or not writing about Cam Newton makes one Internet famous.

My Absence, Cycling, and The "War" on Women

Forgive me Tumblr, for I have sinned. It has been over 8 months since I last posted my ramblings. Fear not, for I still ramble. Do people blog anymore? I had a busy 2015, and I can't tell if people stopped altogether, or if I just stopped reading. Maybe a little of both? I try to read what you other broads are saying, but it just makes me want to punch my computer screen. I started reading a blog post recently about the sex lives of married people, and I had to stop when the author - a grown woman - used the term "sexy time". Wow. When was Borat in theaters? And yes, a gal who uses the word "cunt" with regularity is taking exception to the term "sexy time". I spent most of 2015 training for the Ironman Triathlon. Yes, really. It sucked. I knew it would be a huge time commitment, but I never thought I'd hate sitting on a bike as much as I hated sitting on a bike. Plus triathletes are dicks. I have a handful of friends who also happen to be triathletes, and they are all nice, normal people. However, every other triathlete you meet will be a grade A douche-canoe. They want to make sure you know that you are not worthy of their sport. It's weird. Runners are super nice. Swimmers are friendly. I can only assume cyclists are pretentious fuckers because they are angry from that feeling of straddling a picket fence. Because that is what cycling feels like to me. I considered writing a race recap. I've never written one before. I still may. We'll see if I make time for blogging in 2016. Because guess what I missed while I was pedaling my way through 7-9 hours per week of unbearable vadge pain? A war on women! An entire war! I'll be perfectly honest here: I have no idea what side I'm on. The Internet and the media would have me believe there is a war on me. I don't see it. I don't feel it. Life is pretty easy for a married gal with no kids who doesn't overextend herself financially. Does this mean I'm leading the charge? After all, I did just call women "broads" as recently as a few paragraphs ago. That was a trick question! I am NOT leading the war on women because there is no war. And seriously? Shut up. Just shut up if you want to tell me that there is a war on me. If you are making .78 to the dollar of a man who has the same amount of experience as you, you need to find a new job; not declare that there is a war on you. If you want to complain about abortions rights or lack thereof, go tell that story to someone with a uterus. And if Donald Trump calling women names is your idea of a war? For shame. It's name-calling. It's what children do. Grown women should be immune to name calling by now. Sticks and stones, bitches. I don't take offense to shit, and I can't stand the thin-skinned wussies who pretend to be offended by the faceless folks of the Internet. But I'd like to think a veteran of an actual war would get a kick out of the media’s use of that word.

#WarOnWomen

10 Things Chicks Must Stop Saying on Social Media

Hey, Internet. I’m hoping I drew you in with my click-baity top 10 list title. These usually reel me in, so perhaps they work on others.

Today, I have a request to make. There are a few words and phrases you need to stop using immediately. As in yesterday. This is my plea to all of you reading to strive to be a little more clever. Or not clever at all. I'll take either! But what you can no longer do is think you're being clever when you're just being everyone else. Like writing a top 10 list or something...er, crap. 1) Yep. No one says this in life. No one. Ellen said it on a magazine cover when she came of the closet...IN THE 90s! "Yep" is not clever. You are not clever. You must immediately stop.

"Yep, Jaden is teething!"

"Yep, Caden is going to be a big brother!"

Yep, I’m sick of it. (See how annoying that was!) 2) This! You must stop saying "This!" in lieu of "That is a great article, and I agree with many of its valid points" when leaving comments on various social media posts. I'm sure this was clever once. It's not anymore. 3) To the moon and back. For crying in the night. It's Hayden's birthday, and you are taking to social media to leave a solid paragraph's worth of gush about how mommy and daddy are so lucky to be his parents, and you love him to the moon and back. Well what a relief. Here I thought you just loved him to the moon. I was about to call CPS, but then I saw that you both, in fact, love him to the moon AND BACK. That was a close one. And I won't even go there about how your baby can't read. Or can he, and that's why you're sharing this birthday wish on social media instead of saying it to your kid? Because if I had a two-year-old who could read my Facebook status, I'd love that little shit all the way to fucking Mars. But not back (I'm pretty sure I'd only like my kid as a friend). And by the way! I almost didn't write this because all of you - yes, all of you - do this. If you are reading this and have given birth, you have done this. You're reading this now and thinking "Is she talking about me?" YES. Yes, she is. I don't usually write about my friends, but you all needed this warning and are welcome. 4) Daddy Gals, your husband has a name. Use it when referring to him on the Internet. You know, I've asked you many times to stop referring to your husband as Daddy in your social media posts. Did I not ask nicely enough? Rudely enough? Loudly enough? What's it going to take?

"Daddy has to work late :( Mommy and Aiden are so sad!"

"Daddy made dinner for us! We're so blessed!"

I can't understand any of that. My husband works late every day. Is that news worth sharing on social media while referring to him by a pet name? (Hint: It is not.) 5) Kiddos Not once - in the history of ever- has any of my friends referred to their children as "kiddos" when speaking to me. They say "My son/daughter/kids/Braden", but they will never say "kiddos". All of this changes on social media:

"Kiddos are driving mommy crazy today! LOL!"

"My kiddos are away for the weekend, and I have not stopped crying into my wine." (That's also a jab at you moms who sob when your kids go away overnight.) 6) Peeps Another one I've never heard spoken. "Hey Phoenix Peeps! Can anyone recommend a roofer?" What's wrong with "Can anyone recommend a local roofer?" Unfortunately, I can tell you what's wrong with that. You will get 12 responses, and none of them will give you the name of a local roofer. You'll get:

"My dad is a roofer, but he retired"

"I have a great roofer, but I live in Riverside"

"I've never had to use a roofer. Our builder was great! #SoBlessed".

As annoying as it is that no one can give you an answer when you crowdsource a question, that does not give you permission to qualify your question by narrowing it down to a certain demographic of "peeps". (Happy Easter, by the way!) 7) Sunday Funday Just stop already. If you were really having fun, perhaps you wouldn't have spent the day taking pictures and posting them to various social media sites. You'd just be, well, having fun. It's ok if you don't share that information with 35 people from your high school. 8) Dear person who will never read this: Stop with your open letters to the guy who cut in front of you in line at Trader Joe's. He won't read that. Just state your complaint. See how I easy I make it? 9) Happy birthday, Rover! Your dog can't read your birthday wishes, and if he can, THAT is news worth sharing. Because that would be fucking awesome. I am a self-proclaimed CDL (crazy dog lady), and I don't even post multiple pictures of my dog to social media in a month MUCH LESS a week. You must stop.

10) You guys! I see some bloggers out there who use "You guys!" at least three times in one blog. Maybe it was funny/clever/who cares when the first person did it, but you guys! You guys must stop.

Stick It

Even though everyone I know in real life makes fun of the "Stick Figure Family" that some moms put on their minivans, I still continue to see them everywhere. I live in the Northwest part of town, and it is a sea of SUVs, minivans, families with 2.5 kids, and lots and lots of little league. To sum it up, Stick Figure Family stickers are everywhere. In the past month, however, I've seen a new trend: The Broken Home Stick Figure Family. Isn't that cute? Mom and dad are split up, but they leave the Stick Figure Family on the back window with dad crossed out, semi-peeled off, or a cutesy phrase like "Position Open!' with an arrow pointing to dad. Really, broads? You can't get a razor blade and some Goo Gone? Or replace the window entirely? Some chicks clearly think it's funny if they leave the dad sticker there and make a snarky comment about how he has since split. But I'm guessing your kids don't think it's funny. If I were a seven-year-old and had to see mom's distaste for dad broadcast to the Northwest valley via the car window, I know this would have put a little pit in my tiny tummy. Remember gals, stickers are a commitment. Don't take the decision to put one on your car so lightly. Think long and hard about it, and perhaps attend some pre-sticker counseling.

Please Take Offense

I need to come to terms with the fact that you, the crazy broads of the Internet, will never stop taking offense to things that aren't even directed towards you. You'll just keep looking for something to offend you, and you'll find it every time. Sounds exhausting.

Months ago, an old friend of mine who I knew from grade school through college posted something on Facebook that she thought people should know. A little background on her: I don't think she ever earned a grade lower than A- in her life. She was always whip-smart, super kind, and she grew up to become a pediatrician. If there's one thing I know about people who actually complete medical school, it's that they don't do it for the glamor. To work with sick little ones is a calling. And bless those who do, because it sounds like my worst nightmare. What did she post? This! An article stating that hand-held electronic devices weren't good for children under 12. Did I mention she's a pediatrician? And a mom? Whose heart is in the right place? She wouldn't have shared this if she didn't think her friends who have children should take a look at that info before giving junior an iPad. What happened next? Well in a normal world, her friends would say either "Hey, this is good/interesting info" or they'd ignore the post and keep scrolling. But we don't live in a normal world with normal parents. In this day and age of everyone taking offense to everything, she had some annoying broad say the following: "Haha yours is still young. Give it time until you're dealing with a massive tantrum at a restaurant and this is the only thing that will calm her down :)" Instead of seeing this as advice from a pediatrician, this mom saw it as slight against all moms who give their kids handheld devices to shut them up. That's right; someone decided to take it as a knock on her own parenting decisions. Way to be offended by everything. Way to see something deemed helpful as a slap in your face. And way to stick true to passive-aggressive seaword form by using "haha" and a smiley as a way to say "What do you know about anything? You're wrong, PEDIATRICIAN WHO IS ALSO A MOM!" And that wasn't even the only comment implying that a trained medical professional was wrong. Sigh. A few months have since past, and a second pediatrician friend (yes, I was friends with at least two overachievers in high school!) who is also a father posted an article discussing the links between SIDS and co-sleeping. Do I need to tell you what happened next? Good, because I'm lazy. As my hero, Dr. Drew, says...since when did science become just one of the options? (PS! These 2 pediatricians/parents both vaccinate. *ducks under desk to avoid flying objects from crazed moms*)

#DrDrew pediatricians ChicksAreStupid CrazyMoms

You Have HOW MANY Kids?

Ah, judgement. I have such a love/hate relationship with it. I love judging people, but I hate that I'm not supposed to. Well, at least not in a negative way. Recently (Note: I wrote this last year. So yeah, not so recently) there was an article trending on all the forms of social media out there discussing how women pass judgement on women who have three or more children. And every gal who has three or more children chimed in to discuss how this is just SO true. Girls, really? You didn't notice? You think you get judged for having three? Try having one. Just one. Because what kind of a monster would raise an only child? Call CPS! Oh wait, you have three boys? And you're NOT trying for a girl? I cannot judge you fast enough. Hold up...you have two kids, and your new husband has two kids? But you're not having one together? Don't you want an "us" baby? Wait, what? You have no kids? And you're not going to have any? Way to let society die on the vine, you unfeeling spinster. Ladies, you will be judged for the amount of kids you have. Be it zero or five plus. It's stupid, but people do it. Every time any friend has ever said "I'm pregnant!", my first thought is "On purpose?" And I'm not meaning to judge. To me it's as if you're saying "I'm building a condo on Mars." Wow. That sounds awful, and I'd never do it. So it's not even the judgment part I have a problem with; It's anyone who thinks they're the only one who is being judged. Get over it, gals. As I tell my husband on his birthday every year, you're not special. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j5NGgb60wHQ #HappyBirthdayYoureNotSpecial #NOFX

Top 10 Things Not to say to Anyone About Anything Ever

Top 10 Things Not to say to Anyone About Anything Ever Good effing grief. Every article on the Internet is a top 10 list. Or maybe top 22. Or top 7. Pretty much whatever the lazy writer can come up with becomes the size of the list. And you know what sucks? Those are the only things I read online. Because I, too, am just that lazy. I read two or three into the list, and then I get distracted. Let's see how far you get into my list! 1) Never say anything to anyone who has ever had a baby. Nothing nice, nothing mean. NOTHING.

2) Never say anything to anyone who will never have a baby. Don't tell them to adopt. Don't tell them you're ok with it. Just hush.

3) Oh, and don't talk about how you don't want kids or make fake pregnancy jokes because you may offend someone who decided to make your snide comment about herself. Some women struggle to get pregnant, and a fake pregnancy posts stops them from ovulating.

4) And don't even think of trying to talk to someone who suffers from an illness. You will say the wrong thing, and it will make their illness even worse. Science.

5) Never talk to a curly-haired woman about her hair. You fucking monster.

6) Don't speak to anyone who has recently lost a loved one. Don't tell them time heals or offer any sort of support. Shut your fucking cake hole, you unfeeling whore. And don't even think of ignoring them! What is wrong with you? You're a hate-filled sociopath, that's what's wrong with you!

7) Under NO circumstances can you talk to a working mom about being a working mom. (You didn't listen to #1, did you?)

8) And for the love of all things holy, don't speak to a stay-at-home mom about being a stay-at-home mom. WHY DID YOU IGNORE #1 AGAIN?

9) Do NOT say anything positive, negative, or neutral to your spouse. Not even "I do". Just blink at him once a week.

10) Lastly, never say anything ever to anyone about anything because you don't know anything about anyone. You filthy old cooze. We can all agree that it's annoying when people say things that are rude or just plain out of touch. But most of these stupid lists tell well-intentioned people that they are not allowed to say well-intentioned things. Listen here, idiots: If you can't tell the difference between someone who means well and someone who is an asshole, then that's on you. Quit taking offense to anything and everything. How many times do I have to tell you to thicken your damn skin?

I Wrote a Blog About Chick Stupidity and Then This Happened.

Hi! Remember me? I used to write stuff here more frequently? I really have no excuse when my posts lag, but I still feel the need to address it. I guess I do work more these days, and that translates into having to exercise more so I don't murder someone, so if you want an excuse, there it is. I know what you're thinking: Why don't you just take up drinking? If only my liver were on board with that. Today, I'm trying something new! Click-bating! I write a title that pulls people in because they just can't possibly go on without knowing what happened. It's all over the Internet. Since original thought has been killed and buried, you'll see many an article titled this way. And don't even say it! I'm not doing the same thing here; I'm mocking it. Did it work? Are you new to this Tumblr? I may have to try this more often. My husband tells me to put the words "Boobs & Porn" in the title, but that may draw a different class of folk. I guess this rant isn't chick-specific. Rather, it's a rant against the media. Remember the local news? It's a punchline now. They actually say "According to people on Twitter" as an intro to a story. When I hear about young people wanting to go into journalism or broadcasting, I wonder how they haven't noticed that both are dead. There is no impartial news out there. Our president is either a Kenyan criminal or the Messiah. And nothing in between. With so many other options out there for information, everyone who writes feels the need to make a nothing story into something outrageous. I once wrote about how the media tries to make stories out of nothing, and friend of a friend said I was no better because I'm doing the same thing. Except! I'm not the media. I'm just a chick who updates a Tumblr account.

SCOTUS V. Scrapbooks

Hopefully we're all dutifully doing our part to get worked up about shit the media says we should be worked up about. This week? Hobby Lobby! And if you think I'm here to take a side, not so. I'm here to tell you why both sides can each take a flying leap.

To sum it up, Hobby Lobby doesn't want to pay for its employees' birth control. And they're saying it's because of religious beliefs. Because birth control can "cause abortions".

Let's start there, H-Lob.

It "causes abortions"? They're referring to the possibility that a gal on the pill may accidentally get pregnant, and the pill may accidentally cause a miscarriage. To say that's the same as "causing abortions" is, well, kinda irresponsible. No one has used the term "spontaneous abortion" to describe a miscarriage in decades. Just like we don't use the word "retarded" to describe someone with a developmental disability. Now this part is just me, but the word "abortion" seems to imply intent to terminate. It's no secret the religious right is against abortions. As in a woman gets pregnant, doesn't want to be a mom, and terminates the pregnancy. Guess what? A lot of people on the left are against that, too. But using this Lobby Logic, it sounds like this company is against miscarriages. Great! We all are! But I don't like the implication that women have a hand in causing them. And isn't there a whole mess of crap out there that women believe increases the chance of miscarriage? Is Hobby Lobby going to go to battle against all of that? Because that sounds exhausting. Just sell me my acid-free adhesives, and stop wasting the SCOTUS' time!

So that's why I'm annoyed with them. And here's why I'm annoyed with the employees:

Pay for your own effing birth control, dammit! Birth control is cheap. I mean dirt cheap. I paid $9 a month when I had no job and no insurance. If you can't scrape that together once a month, then I brand you too poor to poke.

Too broke to poke?

Too destitute to dilly-dally?

Too down-and-out to in-and-out?

Too hard up to hump?

Crap, I'm off topic. Anyway, you see where I'm going. There are plenty of ways to prevent pregnancy, and some of them are even free. This whole fight about who should pay for something that costs peanuts is such a non-issue. And the saddest part? You & I are bankrolling this party. Great use of our tax dollars.

My Post-Uterine Life

The title of this blog is kind of a shout-out to Jared Leto. I just saw "Dallas Buyers Club" and am still a little pissed that he is a far hotter woman than I'll ever be. And if you don't get the reference, congratulations: You're young.

In the week following my hysterectomy, I had about five awkward "I don't have kids, and I don't plan to have kids" moments. But thanks to a steady diet of chicken broth and percocet, I don't remember most of them. Lucky for you, they're still coming, so there will be content aplenty on the topic.

Because the Lord has a sense of humor, my nurse at the hospital was a young 20-something who had just returned from maternity leave. And like most new moms, she wanted to talk about it. I mean really wanted to talk about it. I suppose most normal people would want to hear about it, but c'mon. There are a finite number of babies I'm going to care about in my lifetime, and hers isn't one of them. Since she kept mentioning the kid, and I wasn't biting, she finally asked "Do you have any kids?" I replied "No", and then there was the sound of gears turning in her head as she connected the dots of me having no kids and recovering from a hysterectomy. Followed by silence. Followed by "The doctor should discharge you around noon."

Then there was another gem on Christmas Eve. We were eating Seven Fishes with family friends who I've known for ages. My mom's best friend's son, who was at my wedding, said "I know you've heard it a thousand times, but when are you having a baby?" He laughed because he was making fun of how annoying the question was. And since I've known him forever and assumed he knew of my distaste for children, I said "Well I had a hysterectomy six weeks ago, so never!" Then the color left his face, and he apologized. Oops! I thought we were exchanging absurd banter. I really didn't mean to make him feel awkward. I thought he knew. So I made sure to tell him that I never had any intention of procreating pre-uterus. He still felt bad.

And that's something I didn't expect at all: Pity. Fuckin' pity, dammit. I used to say I didn't want kids, and people would think I was nuts, tell me I'd change, and rarely be indifferent. But now I get a pat on the upper back with a head tilt. Bah! This'll make me nuts. I feel the need to yell "I didn't want them anyway, remember? DON'T YOU READ MY BLOG!?"

In Defense of the SAHM

I bust the chops of moms on this Tumblr quite a lot, but I once wrote something in defense of single moms . Today I'm writing in defense of the stay-at-home moms, or SAHMs (colossal fucking eye roll).

Look, SAHMs, I'm not here to go easy on you. You're not going to like the next few sentences. There are lots of things about you that make me want to punch you in the neck. Most of you are way too sensitive and way too cunty. If someone asks if you work, they're asking if you have a job. They mean the 40-hr a week type with a paycheck, a manager, and perhaps a 401k. And you know that's what they mean. You fucking know it! But to respond with "Yes, I work! I'm a mom! It's the hardest job ever!" Bah! You know that's not what people are asking. And not only is that response annoying, but it's annoying that you take offense. Just because someone asks if you work (and no, I'm not going to start saying "Do you work outside the home") doesn't mean they're chomping at the bit to pass judgement.

Are there people out there who are ready to pass judgement? Sure. And they're usually other moms. Some of whom are immature. Some of whom probably need to contribute an income to the family and may be a tad jealous that they can't volunteer in Junior's classroom twice a week. I am not at all saying ALL working moms are jealous, so preemptively put a sock in it. But some are. These are the same ones who will envy those who have nannies and cleaning ladies. These chicks would probably love to have some extra hands around the house, but instead of saying just that, they say "Must be nice." Yes. Having a cleaning lady is fucking nice. And when all your little ones are off to school, they'll come at you with this doozy:

"What exactly do you do all day?"

Ugh. I'd like to deny it and tell you not to take offense, but that question is judgement-loaded. If someone ever said "You don't have kids? What do you do with your time?" I'd spit in her fucking eye. And I think not having kids is what makes me hate this question. If I didn't have a job, believe me, I could fill my day. Honestly, my house needs to be dusted and vacuumed daily. It's not. I'd like to grocery shop a few times a week and buy fresher food, but I go on Sunday only to learn the chicken I bought is past its date when I want to cook it that Friday. I'd like to get my runs completed in the morning rather than at dinner time. I'd like to refinish my old bedroom furniture. I'd like to plant a garden. I'd like my scrapbooks to be current. And so help me, when I lived alone I produced an unholy amount of laundry. If you have more than one kid, I can only assume a minimum of 20 hours a week is spent folding.

Now here's where things get interesting. I know a lot of husbands whose wives said they'd go back to work when Junior went to school. Now he's in first grade, and dad is getting annoyed. He may think you two struck a deal, and you have now reneged. And, most likely, he's communicating this to me and his coworkers, but not to you. This is possibly where the idea of at-home moms being lazy and sloth-like is bred.

To conclude, I'd like you moms to try something for me. When the judgmental parent at T-ball practice makes an implication (or states plainly) that you clearly must have nothing to do with your time, let that be a reflection on her/him. That person is an asshole. Do not see it as an attack; try to see it as ignorance on that person's part.*

*It's easier said than done, which is why I'd also encourage you to tell these people to fuck themselves.

Chicks, I Have Failed Ye

"Don't you read my blog?" - Barney Stinson

You didn't learn. No one learned! I knew most of you wouldn't learn, but I was hoping one or two of you would.

No chicks are less stupid as a result of this blog.

I thought if I laid down some rules and displayed your lunacy, you'd hold back. You haven't. In fact, you defend your stupidity and appear to have doubled-down.

You tell me why it's ok for you to refer to yourself as Mommy. You tell me there's nothing wrong with getting your feelings hurt by the nameless/faceless trolls of the Internet. And for fuck's sake, you're still hashtagging to beat the band.

You still start sentences with "Um" or "So" when typing. Just two weeks ago, one of you even commented with a "Just Sayin" on my FB status. What exactly are you just sayin', wordsmith?

You still get on social media and say things like "So for all of you who think teachers make too much money..." Who thinks that? NO ONE THINKS THAT. Quite the contrary. We think you're fucking nuts to put up with other people's kids for anything less than 7-figures.

You still refer to your husband as Daddy when talking to me. He's not my dad. Call him by his name, you infantile weirdo.

#youstillhastaglikethis #WhenYouShouldHashtagLikeThis #NoOneWouldEverSearchThis #SoJustStop

You complain about how hot Phoenix is. Do people in Seattle complain about rain? I'm asking.

And it's not December yet, but you will soon post pictures of that fucking Elf.

You still fake being appalled by what you see on reality shows. Which are also fake. So I guess that one cancels itself out.

You don't even try to hide the fact that you watch the VMAs in your late 30s.

You post pictures of marinara sauce to announce your pregnancy. And you say "We're pregnant!" NO! "We" are not pregnant. "We" are expecting, but "We" are not pregnant. Fuck.

You think we are against breastfeeding, bottle feeding, staying home with your kids, being a working mom, attachment parenting, and having a nanny. All at the same time. Truth is you can't quantify the amount of fuck people don't give about your stupid kid.

Did I really think I'd make a dent? Well yeah, I guess I did. So that makes me a little stupid. But does this mean I should quit? Nay! I shall take it up a few notches! It just means I need to work that much harder.

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