Douche regularly with Lysol

I saw this somewherethefuck a while ago and tucked it away for a day like today. Please consider this my belated Valentine's Day gift to you -- because I just love Valentine's Day. Ahem.

But seriously, how horrifically hilarious is this?! Wow. We were even MORE stupid back then that I could have ever possibly imagined. I wouldn't be surprised if we found another old ad telling us to blow carbon monoxide up our asses to make our farts disappear.

Doubt. Inhibitions. Ignorance . . . INDEED.

And if by some chance it's fake (I actually hope it's fake), then it's just amusing in a fabulously warped way.

I would feel much better in knowing that our grandmothers did not, in fact, douche with Lysol. But then again, it might explain some things . . . like Donald Trump.

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A blessing in disguise

There was hurt, betrayal, nausea, panic, and the feeling that my life had been ripped right out from underneath me. I imagined an obnoxious douche muppet laughing at me while he held the edges of the rug as I fell, but make no mistake, his identity was clear. Very clear.

Now it's been a few days and I have finally been able to catch my breath. That nauseous pain of looming dread has subsided. I have even been able to sleep a couple nights without angry words swirling around my mind like a screaming motherfucking tornado.

After all that had calmed down, I began to think.
I thought about all the long nights I stayed up to 3am working with no compensation.
I thought about how even working as much as I did, I was still being paid about 20% less than I should have been earning, and had been refused a raise twice.
I thought about how I was guilted into coming off my maternity leave early because they "needed me".
I thought about how I was paying so much for childcare that I could barely afford other essentials, like groceries.
I thought about how I haven't been able to switch off even once since 2007, even on holiday - even on my trip to Australia in 2010, I worked on my laptop every night when I could have been, oooh, I don't know, enjoying my friends that I traveled 22 hours on a plane to see? . . .
I thought about how I even began seeing a therapist because I feel like I was unraveling. Me! The one in the group who "always had it together".

Yes, I have been thinking about all of that and wondering why I had let it go on as long as I did.
Fear, most likely.

But now this fear has been made my forced reality, and do you want to know something? It's not so bad.

I've been angry and stressed out for so long that this fear is nothing more than the sickly little runt of the litter . . . box.

And for the first time since my children were 8 months old, I've been able to play with them -- I mean REALLY play with them -- without all the shit I was going to have to deal with at work the next day running through the back of my mind. Distracted.

After putting up with 5 years of bullshit, my mind in finally clearing and it's pretty damn spectacular.

When Sexting Goes Bad

If you follow me on The Twitter, you might see me dropping a "sexting" joke every now and then, and you might be surprised (or not at all surprised) that it's usually coming from truth, not make believe smartassery. The truth is, I enjoy sexting. And a hipster can come over and fellate my USB stick, because I've been a sexter before it was called "sexting". I began this hobby over a decade ago, when I first started dabbling in online dating and it was then called "cybersex". After the initial flirting went well, good old MSN handles were exchanged and often things turned into some steamy internet chats.

AND I LOVE IT.

I simply enjoy expressing my sexuality through words. I realize that many people don't get anything out of it, and some find it repugnant, but I think it's fabulously good, clean fun.

There's always been the on-going debate about what constitutes "cheating" when you have a spouse and what doesn't. Meh. Obviously, I'm on the "doesn't" side (there's bigger fish to fry in this life as far as I'm concerned), but I realize that my view isn't gospel, so whatever. Chacun à son goût. I will say that that whole scandal with Anthony Weiner was laughable to me . . . and not just because of his unfortunate last name.

I just hope that if I ever run for public office that all my sexting photos DO come out because for every one that I've sent, I've taken at least 10 to get just the right angle, so I know they all have my boobs looking smokin' hot, so bring it on! "Vote for me. You've seen my DD's. Yee-haw!" I mean, isn't that why people bother listening to Jenny McCarthy? Ahem.

Anyways, this means that over the last 10 YEARS or so, I have had (needless to say), many online/virtual friends. M-A-N-Y. Some lasted for a few weeks or even months, and some were one time anomalies, kind of like in real life relationships, really. Things in my personal life would change or get hectic and I wouldn't sext anyone for months, but everyone had been cool with boundaries and space and above all . . . HINTS of nonavailability . . .

UNTIL LAST WEEK.

It started out like any other sexting exchange and it was great! And then he texted again the next day. And again. And again. And again at fucking ridiculous times in the middle of the night, which I had told him once before wasn't cool with me. Here's two vital tips for all you guys out there:

1. If a woman doesn't respond to 3 texts in a row, just stop. 3 is good number. She either isn't interested or she's dead. Either way, you ain't going to get to see her posing her supple breasts for you, so just drop it.
2. When a woman gives you one simple rule, don't fucking break it. Period. 

In the nicest way I possibly could, I told him he was coming on a bit strong and I just can't be available for sexy times as much as he would like me to me. I mean, com'on! I know I have an overly active sex drive, but between work and family and my seemingly constant illnesses, my window for opportunities are slim, to say the least. (And this would mark the SECOND time I had had to tell him this as well, apparently not stopping his daily texting frequency whatsoever.)

That is about the time when he went off on a tangent that would rival both my 3 year olds put together, and mentioned to me that I had slipped into "cunt mode" and that I was nothing but a "fat, unhappy housewife".

A. It's MRS. CUNT DRAGON to you, douche muppet. Buy the fucking mug.

B. I replied with, "Actually, I'm a fat, moderately happy professional wife, to be clear."

And then I blocked him from my life, because HELLO, CRAZY. I could very well have shot back with personal attacks about him (which would have been eeeasy), but I wasn't going to lower myself to that or waste my time with a Stage Five Clinger. I guess I should feel lucky that it's taken this long for someone THAT thick to come into my virtual life and get all psycho up in my beh'ness. 10 YEARS. This is my first cray-cray in ten fucking years. If by some off chance he is reading this, I think you need to chick-it-y check yourself before you wreck yourself!

Also, being my very first peer to verbally abuse me by stooping so low as to making fun of my weight SINCE I HAVE BEEN IN MIDDLE SCHOOL, I feel like he really deserved his own award, don't you think? Something like this . . .

And I made another one, because they were actually quite therapeutic

and I couldn't choose between the two.

I though the "housewifey" rubber glove giving the ASSHOLE sign was rather poetic.

I have no idea why this guy is still single . . .

Anyways, all the best!

Smiting you,

Lady E

Osh Tosh B'gosh

Whether or not you've heard by now, Daniel Tosh did something quite repugnant. In saying that, I'm not going to entirely rant about how much of a douche muppet he is - why? Because I am trying to assess this situation from some kind of middle ground (or at least 70/30). I realize that simply because I have a vagina that would very much like not to be raped, it might not be possible to be unbiased, but there it is.

I would like to think that we're not all complete idiots and when you go to see a show with the likes of Daniel Tosh and Dane Cook headlining that you are going because A) You somehow appreciate their sense of humor and actually paid, or B) Got free tickets and understand who they are but still have thick skin enough to stomach their routine for 90 minutes, or C) Have no idea what you're getting in to because you've been raised in a protective bubble filled with cotton candy.

I would be in the B group, for the record.

Everyone has their limitations to what we do or do not find funny, mostly due to our own unique life experiences and tragedies, so what some would find horribly offensive, someone else thinks it's hilarious. For example, I made an abortion joke on Twitter last year that single handedly lost me almost 30 followers... but I laughed at myself so hard I was nearly in tears - and some people loved it, so I wasn't entirely alone.

And I have laughed at religious jokes.
I have laughed at racist jokes.
I have laughed at sexist jokes.
I have laughed at Helen Keller jokes - actually, they're some of my favorite to tell.

And I also have NOT laughed at religious jokes.
Nor have I at racist jokes.
Nor have I at sexist jokes.
Umm... sorry, Helen.

But I get it. 
And I don't internalize them as personal attacks if I think a joke is in poor taste. We cannot control what we do or do not find funny, but we can control our contextual understanding of every situation and take them with big chunky grains of salt.

So when Daniel Tosh starts making a joke about rape and how hilarious it is (OBVIOUSLY HE WAS BEING SARCASTIC), I would have sat there and zoned out. Since he was allegedly "going on about it" he was very likely struggling to get a laugh and dying a slow comedic death, regardless of the heckling from this offended girl.

Should he have responded to her heckling by saying that it would be funny if she was gang raped?

FUCK NO! WHAT A FUCKING MORONIC THING TO DO.

Slow fucking clap to you, Daniel.
It's obvious that his inability to defend himself with nothing but a juvenile, asinine "I know you are but what am I" type of insult just demonstrates the true depth of his comedic intelligence.

I'd like to think that if it was me, I would have been able to say something like, "Actually, Daniel, it wouldn't be quite as funny as YOU getting raped by 5 guys, or at least one giant guy who's nickname is Tripod."

And only then would I have made my grand exit.

The terrifyingly beautiful thing about the internet is that once you do something so incredibly stooopid, it gets out there for the entire world to see. Tosh acknowledged the situation (which is more than most public figures do on Twitter) and said this...

And here's where I throw in my two cents worth of Devil's advocate to Tosh. When it comes to stand up comedy, have you EVER seen a comic apologize ON STAGE for a joke? Hell no. If comics had to start doing that, they'd sound like us Canadians and begin apologizing after every fucking punchline. Could you imagine Lisa Lampanelli in that situation? She's be toast. As would all other "shock tactic" comics out there. Do these comics impress me? Not in the least...

...but I also wouldn't agree to see them in the first place.

My Backbone? Whoomp! There It Is!

I've never really revealed much about my time as a teacher or why I'm not one anymore. I thought I'd take this opportunity with Mama Kat's "A Memorable Day at Work" theme, because I don't think I will ever forget this day.

A few weeks before, I had been brought into the Headmaster's office with my colleague sitting in the corner with pursed lips and a smug face. It was explained to me that my teaching skills weren't "up to their school's high standards" and that I would NOT be asked back for the following year.

I was devastated.

I loved that school and most of the kids in it. It was my first full year teaching. What they "expected" from me was a load of fucking bullshit. I was (and still am) a perfectionist and I put my heart and soul into that job. I never did anything half-assed. I spent mornings, nights, lunches and weekends helping any student that needed it. But here's the thing...

The morning of my FIRST day on the job, I was asked to take out my eyebrow piercing and I refused. They had 10 weeks of meetings and training with me to ask me about it before that morning. It's not like it was something I could hide. So, of course, I was pretty upset about that. I told them if they had asked me before, I would have taken it out so it would have had time to heal. I wasn't going to have two holes in my face on my first day on the job.

And I thought that was the end of it. But it wasn't.

My colleague, who was more than pleasant at the beginning (she was only a few years older than myself), began being terribly passive-aggressive towards me. I just ignored her. I don't have time for bullshit behavior like that at my work place. And it got worse and worse, to the point it became full out bitchiness and cruel bullying; not to mention she did this in front of the students which was so fucking unprofessional.

So on this particular day, the NEW teacher that was going to replace me came for a visit. I had nothing against him. I welcomed him into what was soon to be his room; I had a class currently underway. I showed him around; where things were kept, et cetra, et cetra. It was a fairly uneventful interaction.

After class, my colleague stormed into my empty room, "How DARE you speak to the new teacher! You have no right!"

And here's right about where 10 months of her under-handed psychological tormenting came to a really big ugly motherfucking head and I exploded:

HOW DARE I? LAST TIME I CHECKED, I WAS A FUCKING HUMAN BEING AND I CAN SPEAK TO WHOMEVER I WANT TO. I AM LEAVING, YOU GOT WHAT YOU WANTED, SO FUCK OFF AND DON'T SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT EVER AGAIN. YOU'RE A BITCH AND EVERYONE KNOWS IT AND YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS OF ME BECAUSE ALL THE STUDENTS CAME TO ME FOR HELP INSTEAD OF YOU AND THAT'S THE REAL REASON WHY YOU HAD ME FIRED. YOU'RE A PETTY AND PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A TEACHER.

Oh yeah, I went there, and it felt so gawd damn amazing. She stood there, stunned. I had taken her abuse and snide remarks all year. It was the last thing she expected from me, I'm certain of it. Then, she attempted to rebut: "And you with your stupid damn eyebrow ring. You're the unprofessional one. Do you have any idea how much of a disappointment you are?" Oh, right... we're rehashing THAT up, are we? OK...

YOU SAID YOU WERE PROUD OF ME FOR STANDING UP FOR MYSELF, YOU FUCKING TWO-FACED BITCH. YOU KNOW HOW UPSET THAT ISSUE MADE ME. AND WHILE WE'RE ON THE TOPIC OF UNPROFESSIONALISM, LET'S BRING UP THE FACT THAT YOU DIDN'T EVEN SHOW UP TO YOUR OWN ART SHOW AND I COVERED FOR YOU. AND THAT WAS JUST...LAST...WEEK. YOU'RE THE ONE THAT DISAPPOINTED ME. YOU WERE MEANT TO BE MY MENTOR AND FRIEND BUT INSTEAD, YOU TURNED OUT TO BE A SELFISH COW THAT TOOK SOME SICK PLEASURE IN TORMENTING ME. WE ARE DONE HERE.

And you want to know something? That night was the first good night's sleep I had had in months. Sure, I had lost my job, but I said my peace and didn't go out with my tail between my legs. It still breaks my heart that in the end, it was the kids that lost out. They even started a petition to try to get me to stay... which of course, was also my fault that caused "a very awkward situation".

Karma is a sneaky bitch though. That colleague had a nervous breakdown and split from her husband over that summer holiday and she was off work until Christmas. They didn't even get a long-term supply to take her place! I emailed the Headmaster and offered my services once a week to help the students with their projects, since I was already more than familiar with them. And that I would gladly do it FOR FREE.

He never replied.

I win.

The end.

Anonymous, motherfucker!

I am branching out today and going to do a movie review, sort of - at least it's my version of a movie review that includes "environmental circumstances". To be honest, I cannot believe I have waited this long, since I'm such a movie geek freak fan.

Before the movie started, or rather, even before the lights dimmed and the previews began, I was on The Twitter. (Yeah, yeah, big fucking surprise... let's move on...) We chose the 3rd row from the back, and being polite, not directly in front of the two women in the row behind us; just off to their left. As soon as I unlock my phone, we hear very clearly, "Just my luck! I always sit behind SOMEONE that is on their phone during the movie. *tisk* Ugghhhh! I can't stand it!"

WHAT. THE. FUCK. was up her fucking ignorant ass? It's not like the movie was even close to starting! Fucking hell, I was furious, and yet, I did nor said nothing. Even my husband was annoyed with the obnoxious banter of these women, which says a lot, since he usually ignores everyone. They actually got up AND MOVED, but unfortunately, we could still hear their conversational vomit about really important shit, like analyzing the plot line of the latest Twilight installment. Fucking save us!

I usually try not to be a shallow person, but when I feel like her inside is ugly and annoying, I have no qualms in describing her appearance (however hyper-exaggerated it may be) to being likened to that of a fucking middle aged Northern Reflections donkey whore.

Donkey whore (a.k.a. Douche muppet)

OK. On to the movie.

Anonymous is the latest to jump on the Queen Elizabeth I bandwagon of possible angles of her life, and although the actors and performances in its predecessors were impressive, this plot line is by far the most interesting interpretation. The Virgin Queen? Not this time. 

It is a period drama, and despite the occasional humorous dialogue and action scenes, my husband did nod off a few times, but I loved it. I think Rhys Ifans finally got a good leading role to sink his teeth into. It was great to see Vanessa Redgrave and Joely Richardson both play the Queen as well; perhaps not as stellar as Helen Mirren or Cate Blanchett, but impressive nevertheless. Sebastian Armesto played an impressive role as the playwright Ben Johnson, although there were many times that I just thought he was the lesser paid version of Orlando Bloom... I mean... is he really even that busy these days?

Two other things slightly plagued me throughout the film.

1. Helen Baxendale played Rhys Ifans' wife (who was previously Emily on Friends) and every time she took a nostril-flared snit, I wanted her to say, "Ross! My name isn't Rachel; it's Emily!" and...

2. David Thewlis (previously rocked Lupin in the Harry Potter saga) played William Cecil, the biggest fucking sneaky asshole. Every time he did something horrible, I thought, "Lupin! Why you gotta be like that?!"

Apart from that, I thought the story as a whole was very well done. I will heed this warning - it does have a pretty huge twist; one that will greatly impact my viewing perspective and enjoyment, particularly of the sex scenes when I eventually watch it again, but I say no more. Ahem.

As for the douche muppets behind us? I dreamed last night that I turned around and kicked her ass. After my victory, I leaned over her and said, "Bitch? I'm soooo going to blog about you." 

And now I have. 

The end.