- I confess that people with bad grammar send me in to a blind rage. Seriously, it’s “our” not “are” and it’s “a lot” not “alot” and yes, the thing with the line and the dot is an exclamation point. It makes me sad that you don’t know that, it makes me sad that you choose to share your sheer ignorance and stupidity on Facebook, and I can’t help it that I see red every time you show up in my newsfeed which is perhaps why I no longer see what you have to say. G-d bless the “hide from timeline” feature. Am I ignoring you? Yes. Yes, I am. Because it’s better for humanity if I do that.
- I confess that I become irrationally angry when someone says to me “I have something to tell you but you can’t tell anyone”. A) thanks for the trust and B) who am I going to tell? Do you really think I’m that gossipy? Also, I’ve probably forgotten what you’ve said 10 minutes after you told me. I’m getting old and my memory’s not that good and my brain is full of other information like “remember to pay the mortgage” and “feed the child today”. And just so we’re clear, if I do remember, I will tell my husband. Particularly if it’s something really, really good.
- I confess that it makes me want to spit fire when someone who has never had kids dispenses parenting advice. Guess what? Babysitting is not the same as being a parent. Owning a dog is not the same as being a parent. Having a younger sibling is not the same as being a parent. You know how I know that? Because I’ve babysat, owned a dog, and have a sibling substantially younger than me. Absolutely none of that prepared me for being a mother. So unless you’ve been a parent, shut the fuck up and keep your advice to yourself. Or you will get face full of my fist. Metaphorically, of course. I’m not going to jail because you can’t shut your mouth.
- While we’re talking about parenting, let’s address helicopter parents for a moment. I confess that want to body slam those assholes and while I have them pinned down, I want to shout loudly that hovering is not the same as advocating and you are doing absolutely nothing to help your child by smothering them, doing everything for them, and kissing ass with teachers and coaches to get your kids special favors. It’s one thing to be your kid’s champion and fight for them when they need it it. It’s another thing to swirl around every moment of their lives and never letting them do anything for themselves. They will not fall apart if they lose or get a bad grade on a test. I promise. Let them live and fail and win and make decisions and choices on their own.
- I confess that sometimes I hate people so much that being a hermit sounds like a wonderful, viable option. Being a hermit means I don’t have to deal with entitled assholes on the road, in parking lots, in stores, at restaurants, or any other place where people might be. I can no longer hide my contempt for how rude and disgusting society has become. Manners are almost nonexistent, and forget about someone even extending common courtesy like saying “bless you” when you sneeze. It’s horrid and if the fact that I’m raising my child to be polite and have manners means I’m strict, then so be it. I can live with it. I’m not adding to the asshole parade if I can help it.
- I confess that every time someone says “I forgot to eat today”, I want to take a sandwich and stuff it down their lying, underfed throat. You forget keys. You forget a birthday. You forget to call your grandmother. You do not forget to eat. And if you do, you’re fucking stupid. I am almost 37 years old. I have never once forgotten to eat. In fact, some days, I start thinking about lunch while I’m eating breakfast. Food is a basic necessity of life. You don’t “forget” it, asshole. We know you’re lying so just stop it. If you don’t want to eat, don’t. But don’t pretend like you forgot.
- This is the last one and it’s a big one so I hope you’re sitting down and not too tired. I confess that the overuse of the word “Nazi” makes me spit nails, steam shoots out of my ears, and I go to red faster than Spaceball One goes to plaid. Let’s be clear–the Nazis were an army of murderous soldiers assembled by a psychopathic, homicidal dictator who committed genocide. When people flippantly attach the word “Nazi” to the end of something as trivial as “grammar” or “cleaning” or “homework” simply because a person happens to be a stickler about those things, it cheapens and demeans what happened to the Jews, Catholics, gays, and everyone else Hitler decided he didn’t like. Wanting a clean house or for people to use proper grammar does not make one a Nazi. Killing people for how they were born or what religion they practice does. It’s an extremely powerful and emotional word, and it should be because as long as that word stays in our lexicon, people will be forced to acknowledge that the Nazis did (and still do) exist. By using it in a cavalier manner, it strips away its power. And I don’t think we’re ready for that yet. Or maybe ever.
So there you have it. Just a few things that make me angry. Thanks for letting me get that off my chest (and I have a pretty big chest which explains why this was so much). Next time, we’ll talk about what makes me irrationally happy. Because it’s all about balance.
What about you? What makes you so angry you want to punch a baby dolphin?
Linking up with Kathy from Vodka and Soda