I just realized that 'foraging' has the connotation of looking for food LMFAO! And this whole self-preservation thing is completely the opposite LOL LOL LOL! (smacking my forehead). Well, perhaps it could be considered as foraging for self preservation before, during and after turning 50. that works for me.
So I got up, made my son breakfast, saw him off to school, synched my Ipod (which by the way is one of the absolute drop dead ORIGINAL WHITE Ipod shuffles that were first made about 30 billion years ago. If Steve Jobs were alive, I'd write to him to tell him that his stuff is definitely long-lasting. I want a newer updated one but I'm reluctant to part with this because it still works fine.
I took a walk - about an almost 20 minute one and actually took a route with some small inclines. I didn't keel over dead. I was not winded which I suppose is a good thing. And after all the log rolling I did yesterday, I wasn't even in the kind of pain I've been in for the past year WITHOUT log rolling. Hmmmmmm.
Degenerative disc disease is not reversible. And given the two gene mutations I have - one of which is C677T which is present in many autoimmune disease patients - I really wonder what the hell is going on inside my body in addition to all the other shit nevermind carrying around 50-60 pounds of extra weight. That just cannot be helpful at all (duh - ya THINK?)
So I'm sitting here listening to my hero of the year - Porcelain Black and her song This is What Rock 'n Roll Looks Like. I wanna look like her. Her figure, her HAIR, and I want lick my lips at my current flavor of the month (that on again off again off off off and on on on again guy) for the past near 7 years.
Pulling myself out of that reverie (pipe dream? I wish? get real isn't going to happen?) I now have to contemplate breakfast. I've been pretty content with Kashi's Autumn Wheat cereal (I'm actually counting the biscuits - I get 28 in a serving which believe it or not fills that bowl. I COULD use a SMALLER bowl which would make the bowl appear fuller (there is a psychological aspect to eating food) and if the bowl is YELLOW (which I have in Fiestaware) and adding strawberries or blueberries to the cereal makes it even all the more appealing. I drink non-fat milk so there's no issue there.
Packing a lunch. Boston lettuce, a half of cut up apple, 1 serving of tuna in water, zuma tomatoes and my non fat wasabi dressing (which I really have to say is pretty freakn' good). it's made by Maple Farms - I need to write to that company and declare my undying loyalty and maybe score some coupons, too. I'll probably throw in a luna bar for a snack and a bottle of water. I need to get rid of the crackers at work. And get it in my head that I need to do something with my hands at all times to keep them occupied other than eat. I could think of a more than a few things but that would require the male species to be around and I just can't get what I want these days ..... Sucks to be me. Maybe I should advertise for a younger guy.
You know what I saw today on the HuffPost? A video of a guy who proposed to his girlfriend by creating a Lego film. The guy is an Atlanta, Georgia filmmaker named Walt Thompson and I was so blown away by this - the utter ROMANCE oh be still my beating heart and even my son thought it was extra cool! I told him that is how you propose to a girl - with something extra amazing, extra creative and romantic all rolled into one. Of course you have to be completely sure she'll be receptive and say yes. some girls don't like that shit.
I'm telling ya - if I could find a guy who would propose like that (baseball themed of course) I'd throw all caution to the wind and get married for the third time (that third time's the charm thing).
But I'd make damn sure he has money. And it's not a golddigger thing or anything. I'm perfectly capable of working, but more importantly, I'd appreciate him, and in turn, I'd be able to spend more time writing and contributing financially by finishing my novels because I'd have the time and the space and some lake house office that I can write uninterrupted.
Are there guys like that out there?
Hey, i'm still waiting for my note in the bottle to be found - the one I threw into the canal in Westerly, Rhode Island in August 2010. With my luck some shark ate it or an octopus snagged it and it's firmly entrenched in some bottom of the ocean cave. that's my life and my luck.
anyways, off to eat breakfast. I did exercise with my stretchy band things (I put it around the tree out back) and am wondering if the stretchy band is going to snap and rocket back to my head, knock me out and leave me with a concussion on the ground.
There's a great new excuse for not showing up for work.
I'm outta here for now.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Monday, January 9, 2012
Foraging into 50 - Addendum 1
So seriously? I thought this was going to be just a weight loss blog but my incontrovertible humor seems to be overtaking my desire to tell the world that I'm not really "fat" (except by the fashion industry standards who classify a Size 6 as a plus size. If that's the case, then I am the Oval Office times 3.
So tonight was somewhat of a disaster. There I went again having nothing to do with my hands except put food in same and raise to my mouth. but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Let's see: piece of veggie quiche (cold, yum, without ketchup heavens to mergatroit), some steamed carrots, spinach, and coucous and a few bites of steamed cauliflower. no salt. I sloshed a few splashes of wasabi fat free dressing on everything on my plate as my son watched in horror because ALL my food was touching and i have a tendency to mix my food together just to see what it tastes like. I don't care. I LIKE my food touching. I LIKE when I mix my corn and mashed potatoes together and I LIKE slathering my steak with 1.59 walmart ketchup (or whatever the brand name is). I don't CARE what anyone thinks.
So that was my dinner tonight. But then of course there was ONE Portugese roll left and I split it with my son and I opted out of the butter for peanut butter. My logic? Protein is way better than than the butter.
Um, yah, right. Fat = fat no matter what.
but it was only a little peanut butter. It's not like i layered it on my half of the roll. And I drink milk with 99.9 percent of my meals (yes, even with Chinese food and lobster) so I finished my milk with my half of the roll.
And nothing else has gone into my mouth since 6 p.m.
So here I am at 9:40 pm i just finished watching Easy A, a great movie. But the best part is when the guy she likes drives up onto her lawn on a borrowed lawnmower holding up speakers that are blaring "DONT YOU FORGET ABOUT ME" a HUGE 80s hit. Now how come I could never find a guy to do that for me?
50 is a funky number. I am undecisive right now about whether to throw in the towel and look upon the last five decades as 50 years of having accomplished nada, zip, zero, and however other many languages you can say "nothing" in terms of a real career or a lasting marriage or long-term relationship that was actually healthy and meaningful and "normal" or I can spend the next five decades remembering that it's never too late to be what I might have been.
What might I have been? Thin. I was - when I was about 12 ha ha ha ha.
I mean don't get me wrong - I do care what I look like and I really cannot stand to look at myself naked because pregnancy was not my bag and losing 60 pounds in 3 months borderlined on dramatic weightloss but given that all I did was smoke pack after pack of cancer sticks and drink gallons and gallons of DD coffee and not eat, well, yah, I guess it was pretty dramatic. and even more dramatic is how half of it has slithered back onto me like freakn' medusa's snakes on her head (is that like snakes on a plane?) and in the past year, I have been undergoing some weird shit inside and out that I am just not happy about and given that my mother has early dementia, my sister is a kook, my brother speaks to me once a year and my youngest sister lives in Australia and has NOT got eaten by a Great White, there isn't anyone I can really talk to about what's happening to me. I am mired in silence because I am horrified that my hair is thinning, (I am afraid to brush it), I don't sleep because I may as well be sleeping in a bed of lava, my bathroom scale has become a land mine and the guy that I've been dating off and on and off and off and off and on and on and on and off and on and let's see what is it now? on I think -- for nearly seven years is in worse shape than I am.
So I am a little envious of moms in my town who are younger than me, THINNER than me and who have teens about to go off to college and husbands who are wealthy and they don't have to look at the prices in the grocery store (but probably wouldn't get on their knees and give their husbands a blow job even if a thousand dollar shopping spree to Macy's was offered to them in exchange for same)
jeez girls -- it's not really THAT big a deal.
I'm getting off track.
bottom line: I am almost 50, overweight, dealing with mind-boggling physical INTERRUPTIONS (what the fuck kind of word is menopause anyways? MEN O PAUSE. Yep, that about sums it up. Men will pause when a woman turns 50 and say gee, she looks like shit. Oh and did I mention I have a pre-teen kid who is beginning to experience puberty and who cheerfully informs me that he has hair on his balls?
And I wonder why I eat the way I do.
I would kill for a smoke right now.
Is it Day 2 yet?
So tonight was somewhat of a disaster. There I went again having nothing to do with my hands except put food in same and raise to my mouth. but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Let's see: piece of veggie quiche (cold, yum, without ketchup heavens to mergatroit), some steamed carrots, spinach, and coucous and a few bites of steamed cauliflower. no salt. I sloshed a few splashes of wasabi fat free dressing on everything on my plate as my son watched in horror because ALL my food was touching and i have a tendency to mix my food together just to see what it tastes like. I don't care. I LIKE my food touching. I LIKE when I mix my corn and mashed potatoes together and I LIKE slathering my steak with 1.59 walmart ketchup (or whatever the brand name is). I don't CARE what anyone thinks.
So that was my dinner tonight. But then of course there was ONE Portugese roll left and I split it with my son and I opted out of the butter for peanut butter. My logic? Protein is way better than than the butter.
Um, yah, right. Fat = fat no matter what.
but it was only a little peanut butter. It's not like i layered it on my half of the roll. And I drink milk with 99.9 percent of my meals (yes, even with Chinese food and lobster) so I finished my milk with my half of the roll.
And nothing else has gone into my mouth since 6 p.m.
So here I am at 9:40 pm i just finished watching Easy A, a great movie. But the best part is when the guy she likes drives up onto her lawn on a borrowed lawnmower holding up speakers that are blaring "DONT YOU FORGET ABOUT ME" a HUGE 80s hit. Now how come I could never find a guy to do that for me?
50 is a funky number. I am undecisive right now about whether to throw in the towel and look upon the last five decades as 50 years of having accomplished nada, zip, zero, and however other many languages you can say "nothing" in terms of a real career or a lasting marriage or long-term relationship that was actually healthy and meaningful and "normal" or I can spend the next five decades remembering that it's never too late to be what I might have been.
What might I have been? Thin. I was - when I was about 12 ha ha ha ha.
I mean don't get me wrong - I do care what I look like and I really cannot stand to look at myself naked because pregnancy was not my bag and losing 60 pounds in 3 months borderlined on dramatic weightloss but given that all I did was smoke pack after pack of cancer sticks and drink gallons and gallons of DD coffee and not eat, well, yah, I guess it was pretty dramatic. and even more dramatic is how half of it has slithered back onto me like freakn' medusa's snakes on her head (is that like snakes on a plane?) and in the past year, I have been undergoing some weird shit inside and out that I am just not happy about and given that my mother has early dementia, my sister is a kook, my brother speaks to me once a year and my youngest sister lives in Australia and has NOT got eaten by a Great White, there isn't anyone I can really talk to about what's happening to me. I am mired in silence because I am horrified that my hair is thinning, (I am afraid to brush it), I don't sleep because I may as well be sleeping in a bed of lava, my bathroom scale has become a land mine and the guy that I've been dating off and on and off and off and off and on and on and on and off and on and let's see what is it now? on I think -- for nearly seven years is in worse shape than I am.
So I am a little envious of moms in my town who are younger than me, THINNER than me and who have teens about to go off to college and husbands who are wealthy and they don't have to look at the prices in the grocery store (but probably wouldn't get on their knees and give their husbands a blow job even if a thousand dollar shopping spree to Macy's was offered to them in exchange for same)
jeez girls -- it's not really THAT big a deal.
I'm getting off track.
bottom line: I am almost 50, overweight, dealing with mind-boggling physical INTERRUPTIONS (what the fuck kind of word is menopause anyways? MEN O PAUSE. Yep, that about sums it up. Men will pause when a woman turns 50 and say gee, she looks like shit. Oh and did I mention I have a pre-teen kid who is beginning to experience puberty and who cheerfully informs me that he has hair on his balls?
And I wonder why I eat the way I do.
I would kill for a smoke right now.
Is it Day 2 yet?
Foraging Into Fifty - Day 1 addendum
Nothing wrecks the day like emotional eating. I need to make sure I don't have any crunchy munchy stuff in my office, near my desk or within a thousand miles of me when my mind wanders while I am making a bazillion copies of depositions.
Fact: Black is slimming ONLY if you hide everything you are wearing with a bigger black sweater.
Fact: Log rolling for exercise in the morning isn't half bad ha ha ha ha. The tree was rotting.
Trying not to think about supper. Then again, I have veggies to steam and rice to eat. I just have to make a separate supper for my son. If ONLY kids would wake up one day and say I LOVE EVERYTHING and eat whatever you put on their plates. Oh, dieting would be soooooooooooooooo easy.
It's 4:38 pm I have a ways to go for the night. I figured if I wrote first it would keep me away from the refrigerator for a while.
I'm still pissed for jamming all those multigrain wheat thins into my mouth. I had NOTHING to do with my hands while the copy machine was running. I COULD have sat down at my computer and made work for myself but the crackers called my name.
A huge defeat on the first day.
Movin' forward.
I may write more later.
I do have to say I may be overweight, but I would NOT take up two airplane seats if I did fly. Nor would I crush a chair into kindling if it was wooden.
I am just not at the weight I should be for my age, height and body frame.
If I lose enough, will I lose the boobs, too?
Oh what I wouldn't give to fit into a perfect 38C. Do you have any idea how NICE the lingerie choices are when you can fit into a 38C bra?
Fact: Black is slimming ONLY if you hide everything you are wearing with a bigger black sweater.
Fact: Log rolling for exercise in the morning isn't half bad ha ha ha ha. The tree was rotting.
Trying not to think about supper. Then again, I have veggies to steam and rice to eat. I just have to make a separate supper for my son. If ONLY kids would wake up one day and say I LOVE EVERYTHING and eat whatever you put on their plates. Oh, dieting would be soooooooooooooooo easy.
It's 4:38 pm I have a ways to go for the night. I figured if I wrote first it would keep me away from the refrigerator for a while.
I'm still pissed for jamming all those multigrain wheat thins into my mouth. I had NOTHING to do with my hands while the copy machine was running. I COULD have sat down at my computer and made work for myself but the crackers called my name.
A huge defeat on the first day.
Movin' forward.
I may write more later.
I do have to say I may be overweight, but I would NOT take up two airplane seats if I did fly. Nor would I crush a chair into kindling if it was wooden.
I am just not at the weight I should be for my age, height and body frame.
If I lose enough, will I lose the boobs, too?
Oh what I wouldn't give to fit into a perfect 38C. Do you have any idea how NICE the lingerie choices are when you can fit into a 38C bra?
Foraging Into 50 Years - A Single Mom's Journey to Self-Preservation & Losing Weight To Stay Alive - Day 1
50. Half a decade. Nine days till it's been 18,250 days since I've been on this planet.
It's looming like the mothership hovering over Devil's Tower in Close Encounters of The Third Kind.
LOOMING.
And it' "ear-roding EAR-roding" my sense of self-esteem, self-confidence and self-preservation.
Why? Because I am overweight and I have a son who needs me to be healthy because I'm all he has. And about 40 billion other reasons that will bore people to death because everyone will say "yup, been there, done that. Movin' forward."
But let me tell you about being overweight (althought I am sure bazillions of women will read this and go, yup, check, have that, see that, ewww that).
I am 5-7. I weigh 191 pounds. There, I said it. And I don't give a shit anymore who reads that and says OMG PAULA IS A FREAKING MOOSE!
Bite me.
The Spanx hide the weight really well. And given that I have this amazing center of gravity below my 40Cs and above my thighs, that is the center of all the weight. That's the only reason I remain upright.
I can, however, still see my feet. I've never not been able to. I suppose that counts for something.
But after a three-month 60 pound weight loss during the summer of 2010 which left me even more sagging that I had been prior, I put 30 pounds of it back on in one year. Whether it was my age kicking in, my hormones being totally fucked up or that I moved into a new home and got comfortable because my son and I were safe from the monsters who nearly killed us in 2010, I don't know.
But last night was a wake up call. Something happened - well, Facebook revealed one its secrets in such a completely random coincidential manner - and this "secret" threw me for a loop. Jesus, it's one thing with the ring. It's another thing about the white pants.
And I spent the night assessing and re-assessing years gone by, the last six in particular that I've been the ultimate "giver" and finally decided that the next 50 years belong to me and I am going to become a taker.
But in a good way. I'm taking my dignity (what's left of it) and going to attempt to channel it upwards into what I hope to be a future of good health, sound mind (well, maybe because people already tell me I am certifiably off my rocker and I LAUGH because it's a compliment to me) and a body that when I look at it in the future, I would go "ewww, I'm gross" or have to stretch out my arms in front of me so that the tractor tires on my back will even out when I am bent over and getting screwed from behind, and I won't have to put a pillow under me when I am in same position because the rolls on my back are being evened out from my arms being stretched out in front of me but leaving my hanging sagging belly fat to dance to its own tune.
You get the ewwww picture. But really? Overweight women are truly creative when it comes to manuevering to a position to cause less jiggle, less tire action, etc. I'm tired of doing that. I want to focus solely on my self and not be bombarded with negative thoughts about how I look from behind, or the front, or sideways or from a distance.
And this is just about being naked. Wait till I write about me and clothes. The above-mentioned brings out the eww factor in me. I hate being naked. I hate taking a bath, I hate taking a shower. It has nothing to do with being clean because I'm a freak when it comes to that.
I just hate the way my body looks, what it has become and the fact I have to "hide" it from the world because it's the bane of my existence, the harpoon in my side 24/7/365.
I can blame it a bit on pregnancy from 12 years ago because I was horrified beyond all comprehension when I stepped back and looked at myself after I had my son. I could not believe what happened to my body. And it's been downhill ever since.
I hit rock bottom last night. That "secret" on Facebook just made me shake my head and go, that's it. I'm done. Time to get off my ass.
I'm not going to "diet" but I am going to change the way I eat. I am a stress smoker but I stopped that about 10 days ish ago. Cold turkey. Done it before a million times. But each time I look at my son, I have to convince myself that I can't smoke - at all.
And no smoking means more hunger and more hunger means emotional eating. Been there done that, too.
That's gotta stop.
Writing keeps my hands busy. It passes time that I otherwise would be foraging for food in my kitchen and eating for no apparent reason at all.
It doesn't change overnight. It's a mindset first. I have to want to change. I can't float along like a bottle on the ocean with a note it that says "rescue me" and hope someone finds it and does same.
That's for fairy tale fanatics.
This is real life, real time, right now.
50 is NOT an even number unless you divde it by 5 and get 10 and that's an even number.
10 pounds at a time. 10 pounds for each year I've been alive.
50 pounds to shed on this soon-to-be 50 year old single parent.
So maybe the sags might be more saggy but the rolls will remain on the bread shelves at the supermarket and not on me anymore. My legs are actually nice and my tattooed butt isn't too bad.
Duct tape (ohhh they have colored duct tape now) will most definitely help. But damn, I bet it will hurt peeling it off. Instead breast lift ha ha ha ha ha. OUCH.
Seriously: Humor and laughter have gotten me through the worst of times. So I LAUGH in the face of of the enormous task ahead of me (removing five albatrosses hanging around my neck) and regaining my self-esteem and self-esteem so that the next 50 years will be productive, healthy happy ones for me and for my son because really when push comes to shove - nothing else matters to me as a mom.
Movin' forward ......
It's looming like the mothership hovering over Devil's Tower in Close Encounters of The Third Kind.
LOOMING.
And it' "ear-roding EAR-roding" my sense of self-esteem, self-confidence and self-preservation.
Why? Because I am overweight and I have a son who needs me to be healthy because I'm all he has. And about 40 billion other reasons that will bore people to death because everyone will say "yup, been there, done that. Movin' forward."
But let me tell you about being overweight (althought I am sure bazillions of women will read this and go, yup, check, have that, see that, ewww that).
I am 5-7. I weigh 191 pounds. There, I said it. And I don't give a shit anymore who reads that and says OMG PAULA IS A FREAKING MOOSE!
Bite me.
The Spanx hide the weight really well. And given that I have this amazing center of gravity below my 40Cs and above my thighs, that is the center of all the weight. That's the only reason I remain upright.
I can, however, still see my feet. I've never not been able to. I suppose that counts for something.
But after a three-month 60 pound weight loss during the summer of 2010 which left me even more sagging that I had been prior, I put 30 pounds of it back on in one year. Whether it was my age kicking in, my hormones being totally fucked up or that I moved into a new home and got comfortable because my son and I were safe from the monsters who nearly killed us in 2010, I don't know.
But last night was a wake up call. Something happened - well, Facebook revealed one its secrets in such a completely random coincidential manner - and this "secret" threw me for a loop. Jesus, it's one thing with the ring. It's another thing about the white pants.
And I spent the night assessing and re-assessing years gone by, the last six in particular that I've been the ultimate "giver" and finally decided that the next 50 years belong to me and I am going to become a taker.
But in a good way. I'm taking my dignity (what's left of it) and going to attempt to channel it upwards into what I hope to be a future of good health, sound mind (well, maybe because people already tell me I am certifiably off my rocker and I LAUGH because it's a compliment to me) and a body that when I look at it in the future, I would go "ewww, I'm gross" or have to stretch out my arms in front of me so that the tractor tires on my back will even out when I am bent over and getting screwed from behind, and I won't have to put a pillow under me when I am in same position because the rolls on my back are being evened out from my arms being stretched out in front of me but leaving my hanging sagging belly fat to dance to its own tune.
You get the ewwww picture. But really? Overweight women are truly creative when it comes to manuevering to a position to cause less jiggle, less tire action, etc. I'm tired of doing that. I want to focus solely on my self and not be bombarded with negative thoughts about how I look from behind, or the front, or sideways or from a distance.
And this is just about being naked. Wait till I write about me and clothes. The above-mentioned brings out the eww factor in me. I hate being naked. I hate taking a bath, I hate taking a shower. It has nothing to do with being clean because I'm a freak when it comes to that.
I just hate the way my body looks, what it has become and the fact I have to "hide" it from the world because it's the bane of my existence, the harpoon in my side 24/7/365.
I can blame it a bit on pregnancy from 12 years ago because I was horrified beyond all comprehension when I stepped back and looked at myself after I had my son. I could not believe what happened to my body. And it's been downhill ever since.
I hit rock bottom last night. That "secret" on Facebook just made me shake my head and go, that's it. I'm done. Time to get off my ass.
I'm not going to "diet" but I am going to change the way I eat. I am a stress smoker but I stopped that about 10 days ish ago. Cold turkey. Done it before a million times. But each time I look at my son, I have to convince myself that I can't smoke - at all.
And no smoking means more hunger and more hunger means emotional eating. Been there done that, too.
That's gotta stop.
Writing keeps my hands busy. It passes time that I otherwise would be foraging for food in my kitchen and eating for no apparent reason at all.
It doesn't change overnight. It's a mindset first. I have to want to change. I can't float along like a bottle on the ocean with a note it that says "rescue me" and hope someone finds it and does same.
That's for fairy tale fanatics.
This is real life, real time, right now.
50 is NOT an even number unless you divde it by 5 and get 10 and that's an even number.
10 pounds at a time. 10 pounds for each year I've been alive.
50 pounds to shed on this soon-to-be 50 year old single parent.
So maybe the sags might be more saggy but the rolls will remain on the bread shelves at the supermarket and not on me anymore. My legs are actually nice and my tattooed butt isn't too bad.
Duct tape (ohhh they have colored duct tape now) will most definitely help. But damn, I bet it will hurt peeling it off. Instead breast lift ha ha ha ha ha. OUCH.
Seriously: Humor and laughter have gotten me through the worst of times. So I LAUGH in the face of of the enormous task ahead of me (removing five albatrosses hanging around my neck) and regaining my self-esteem and self-esteem so that the next 50 years will be productive, healthy happy ones for me and for my son because really when push comes to shove - nothing else matters to me as a mom.
Movin' forward ......
Friday, December 2, 2011
Color Me Bad: Teacher uses Sharpie Marker to fill in a part line on student's hair
I don't know how I missed this story but ran across it tonight and was in a jaw-dropped state for several moments.
In October, at Marshall Junior High School in Marshall, Texas, a student showed up at school one day with "hair designs" shaved into his head which apparently violated the school's dress code.
His "designs" were two extra "part" lines on either side of his head near his temples (probably no more than one inch long if that) and according to the school's dress code, students are only allowed ONE part line.
Just one. Not one and a half.
One part line.
Okay, SERIOUSLY?? Who dreams this shit up?
Did a half a dozen educators just wake up one day and hold an emergency meeting to decide that students are only allowed ONE part line on their heads? Who is writing these ridiculous policies? Wow. Talk about focusing on the really important issues at hand -- part lines vs. being able to multiply three and four number equations or naming all the capitals of the 50 states in this country.
SERIOUSLY??????????
The story gets better. The student's teacher decided to take matters into her hands - literally - and called the student out into the hall, and FILLED IN THE EXTRA PART LINES WITH A BLACK SHARPIE MARKER.
Um, yah, If a teacher EVER tried to draw on my kid's hair with a Sharpie because God forbid his hair "whorl" which is pronounced in appearance on his forehead was "whorling" the wrong way according to school policy for "whorling" hair, I'd sue that teacher, the school and the school district for a billion dollars.
The school principal admitted that teachers have handled this same situation in the past in the very same manner but told the media outlets it would never happen again - with Sharpies, of course.
What's next? Acrylic paints? Watercolors? Charcoal?
I think that Marshall Junior High School needs to take a closer look at its dark ages dress code and perhaps focus more on ensuring its students are being schooled in reading, writing and arithmetic and leave the Sharpies in the art classes for teachers to use in a more creative manner than filling in part lines on students' hair.
In October, at Marshall Junior High School in Marshall, Texas, a student showed up at school one day with "hair designs" shaved into his head which apparently violated the school's dress code.
His "designs" were two extra "part" lines on either side of his head near his temples (probably no more than one inch long if that) and according to the school's dress code, students are only allowed ONE part line.
Just one. Not one and a half.
One part line.
Okay, SERIOUSLY?? Who dreams this shit up?
Did a half a dozen educators just wake up one day and hold an emergency meeting to decide that students are only allowed ONE part line on their heads? Who is writing these ridiculous policies? Wow. Talk about focusing on the really important issues at hand -- part lines vs. being able to multiply three and four number equations or naming all the capitals of the 50 states in this country.
SERIOUSLY??????????
The story gets better. The student's teacher decided to take matters into her hands - literally - and called the student out into the hall, and FILLED IN THE EXTRA PART LINES WITH A BLACK SHARPIE MARKER.
Um, yah, If a teacher EVER tried to draw on my kid's hair with a Sharpie because God forbid his hair "whorl" which is pronounced in appearance on his forehead was "whorling" the wrong way according to school policy for "whorling" hair, I'd sue that teacher, the school and the school district for a billion dollars.
The school principal admitted that teachers have handled this same situation in the past in the very same manner but told the media outlets it would never happen again - with Sharpies, of course.
What's next? Acrylic paints? Watercolors? Charcoal?
I think that Marshall Junior High School needs to take a closer look at its dark ages dress code and perhaps focus more on ensuring its students are being schooled in reading, writing and arithmetic and leave the Sharpies in the art classes for teachers to use in a more creative manner than filling in part lines on students' hair.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Kevin Hogan v. FOX News - Invasion of Privacy at its Absolute Worst!
I am ashamed to be a reporter right at this moment because it groups me into the circle of journalists in which seasoned journalist Mike Beaudet is a part and I want to step outside of this group to disassociate myself because Mr. Beaudet may have just ruined an extraordinary teacher's life.
Recently, Beaudet, an undercover reporter for Fox News, received a tip that a very well liked, very well respected teacher at the Mystic Valley Regional Charter School in Malden, Massachusets, starred in XXX gay porn movies prior to becoming a teacher.
Kevin Hogan, an English teacher at Mystic Valley, was "exposed" by Beaudet when the viewer tipped off Fox that Hogan's former employment could be seen online.
OMG. Seriously? This is NEWS?
Heavens to Mergatroit. Kevin Hogan had a prior job? Wow. Stop the presses!!!!
WHOTF cares? Porn is a billion dollar business, it's perfectly legal and Hogan probably made some decent money as he appears to be a pretty good looking guy! So what?
All the high falutin' bible thumping morals and values RACISTS FREAKS and anti-gay crazies are getting their collective panties in a bunch (with their collective heads STILL stuck in the sand) and airing their collective opinions about how Hogan should be fired, OMG he was teaching KIDS and all that blah blah blah from people who are absolutely choking on all that sand they've inhaled since this "story" broke.
Let's look at the big picture here: The naysayers think Hogan will "influence" their kids and probably try to recruit them into porn or heaven forbid try to 'turn them gay.' Oh really? Then how come PRIOR to this story their wasn't one iota of a complaint against Hogan?
Everyone wants to jump on the slam Hogan bandwagon because he had a prior job that involved - ahem, nudity, sex and filming of same. Oh wait, allegedly the filming involved Hogan starring with same sex actors.
Gee, I get Netflix movies that have those same contents. And correct me if I am wrong but there are plenty of movies available on Netflix that have gay actors or gay themes or nudity and sex. No one seems to be in an uproar about that!
And just because Hogan starred in XXX gay porn doesn't make him an alien from outer space! And it certainly doesn't make him any less of a teacher! The support Hogan is receiving from his students and parents and the general community is overwhelmingly positive.
If my son had Kevin Hogan for a teacher and was bringing home straight As and all I heard from my son is how much he LOVED Mr. Hogan's English class and how much he LOVED how Mr. Hogan made English interesting, and then I found out Mr. Hogan starred in XXX gay porn movies? I'd be like yah, whatevah. I'm more concerned about my kid continuing to bring home straight A's.
Racists freaks and anti-gay crazies and religious zealots and bible thumpers and all you people who live with your ostrich heads in the sand: Kevin Hogan did NOTHING wrong. He did NOT commit a crime, he is NOT a pedophile, a rapist, nor is he a bank robber, a serial killer or an animal abuser.
He is a man who's life Mike Beaudet has probably ruined all because Fox decided that exposing a teacher's past employment was newsworthy.
In my famous words that are well known by many: Fox News and Mike Beaudet: YOU SUCK!
Recently, Beaudet, an undercover reporter for Fox News, received a tip that a very well liked, very well respected teacher at the Mystic Valley Regional Charter School in Malden, Massachusets, starred in XXX gay porn movies prior to becoming a teacher.
Kevin Hogan, an English teacher at Mystic Valley, was "exposed" by Beaudet when the viewer tipped off Fox that Hogan's former employment could be seen online.
OMG. Seriously? This is NEWS?
Heavens to Mergatroit. Kevin Hogan had a prior job? Wow. Stop the presses!!!!
WHOTF cares? Porn is a billion dollar business, it's perfectly legal and Hogan probably made some decent money as he appears to be a pretty good looking guy! So what?
All the high falutin' bible thumping morals and values RACISTS FREAKS and anti-gay crazies are getting their collective panties in a bunch (with their collective heads STILL stuck in the sand) and airing their collective opinions about how Hogan should be fired, OMG he was teaching KIDS and all that blah blah blah from people who are absolutely choking on all that sand they've inhaled since this "story" broke.
Let's look at the big picture here: The naysayers think Hogan will "influence" their kids and probably try to recruit them into porn or heaven forbid try to 'turn them gay.' Oh really? Then how come PRIOR to this story their wasn't one iota of a complaint against Hogan?
Everyone wants to jump on the slam Hogan bandwagon because he had a prior job that involved - ahem, nudity, sex and filming of same. Oh wait, allegedly the filming involved Hogan starring with same sex actors.
Gee, I get Netflix movies that have those same contents. And correct me if I am wrong but there are plenty of movies available on Netflix that have gay actors or gay themes or nudity and sex. No one seems to be in an uproar about that!
And just because Hogan starred in XXX gay porn doesn't make him an alien from outer space! And it certainly doesn't make him any less of a teacher! The support Hogan is receiving from his students and parents and the general community is overwhelmingly positive.
If my son had Kevin Hogan for a teacher and was bringing home straight As and all I heard from my son is how much he LOVED Mr. Hogan's English class and how much he LOVED how Mr. Hogan made English interesting, and then I found out Mr. Hogan starred in XXX gay porn movies? I'd be like yah, whatevah. I'm more concerned about my kid continuing to bring home straight A's.
Racists freaks and anti-gay crazies and religious zealots and bible thumpers and all you people who live with your ostrich heads in the sand: Kevin Hogan did NOTHING wrong. He did NOT commit a crime, he is NOT a pedophile, a rapist, nor is he a bank robber, a serial killer or an animal abuser.
He is a man who's life Mike Beaudet has probably ruined all because Fox decided that exposing a teacher's past employment was newsworthy.
In my famous words that are well known by many: Fox News and Mike Beaudet: YOU SUCK!
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Michelle Duggar - seriously stupid or seriously addicted CLOSE YOUR LEGS
Seriously? Michelle Duggar is pregnant AGAIN????
This will be her 20th kid.
I am not religious but someone mentioned in the bible there is an excerpt that says "be fruitful and multiply."
I think that was for those flying gnat things that mysteriously appear on bananas after a few days and procreate into the hundreds within hours.
Gross.
Clearly the Duggars DO believe everything they read.
Michelle Duggar is 45 years old, only five years younger than me. I was 38 when I had my ONLY child and that pregnancy was a nightmare come true. I was not built to be pregnant and I was actually thankful 27 different ways to Texas for the emergency c-section because the thought of pushing something the size of a watermelon through something the size of a keyhole was just incomprehensible to me. Stretches out my ass.
I read a comment by someone who said Michelle Duggar's uterus is just going to drop out of her in the grocery line one of these days.
I'm going to have nightmares now.
Let's be serious: She is 45 years old. Medically and statistically speaking, she has put herself (again) in a high risk situation -- both for herself and for her unborn child. And I think the latter is just over the top selfish and completely reckless disregard for human life. And she and her husband are supposed to be "religious?"
And correct me if I am wrong but one of her kids already has kids of his/her own? And how many are they going to have? Is this one of those "and she had a baby, and that baby grew up and had a baby, and THAT baby had a baby, and then they ALL had babies, and THOSE babies grew up and had babies?"
Yuck. I'm dizzy just reading what I wrote!
Michelle, the world is overpopulated as it is and you just keep running up the numbers because clearly you don't know what "just say no" means and and it's against your religious beliefs that (gack) your husband wear an umbrella to, um "reign in the white rain."
Gack. I think I just threw up in my mouth.
It's hard enough for me being a single parent and raising one child. Lucky you Michelle that because of your obsessive compulsive disorder called IBPFMOML (I've Been Pregnant For Most Of My Life) (and that's just wrong on every level of human existence) and because you have populated the world with even more children, TLC pays you and your husband ridiculous sums of money to follow you around to see how you raise 19 kids (and people actually watch this).
Me and Michelle Duggar share a common bond: We are both moms. But that's where the similarities end.
And I am absolutely undeniably confident that my uterus will NEVER fall out of me while I am standing in the grocery line.
This will be her 20th kid.
I am not religious but someone mentioned in the bible there is an excerpt that says "be fruitful and multiply."
I think that was for those flying gnat things that mysteriously appear on bananas after a few days and procreate into the hundreds within hours.
Gross.
Clearly the Duggars DO believe everything they read.
Michelle Duggar is 45 years old, only five years younger than me. I was 38 when I had my ONLY child and that pregnancy was a nightmare come true. I was not built to be pregnant and I was actually thankful 27 different ways to Texas for the emergency c-section because the thought of pushing something the size of a watermelon through something the size of a keyhole was just incomprehensible to me. Stretches out my ass.
I read a comment by someone who said Michelle Duggar's uterus is just going to drop out of her in the grocery line one of these days.
I'm going to have nightmares now.
Let's be serious: She is 45 years old. Medically and statistically speaking, she has put herself (again) in a high risk situation -- both for herself and for her unborn child. And I think the latter is just over the top selfish and completely reckless disregard for human life. And she and her husband are supposed to be "religious?"
And correct me if I am wrong but one of her kids already has kids of his/her own? And how many are they going to have? Is this one of those "and she had a baby, and that baby grew up and had a baby, and THAT baby had a baby, and then they ALL had babies, and THOSE babies grew up and had babies?"
Yuck. I'm dizzy just reading what I wrote!
Michelle, the world is overpopulated as it is and you just keep running up the numbers because clearly you don't know what "just say no" means and and it's against your religious beliefs that (gack) your husband wear an umbrella to, um "reign in the white rain."
Gack. I think I just threw up in my mouth.
It's hard enough for me being a single parent and raising one child. Lucky you Michelle that because of your obsessive compulsive disorder called IBPFMOML (I've Been Pregnant For Most Of My Life) (and that's just wrong on every level of human existence) and because you have populated the world with even more children, TLC pays you and your husband ridiculous sums of money to follow you around to see how you raise 19 kids (and people actually watch this).
Me and Michelle Duggar share a common bond: We are both moms. But that's where the similarities end.
And I am absolutely undeniably confident that my uterus will NEVER fall out of me while I am standing in the grocery line.
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