Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Because Girls Are Bitches, That's Why

Truth be told, I don't really like very many girls. And it has nothing to do with jealousy, like everyone likes to say it does. I don't like girls because I disagree with the "values" upheld by so many of them - the values that allow them to be dependant, whiny little bitches who do nothing but spend their husband's money on expensive purses and clothes while the rest of us work our asses off in an effort to prove women can take care of themselves.

Don't worry, this rant is not a feminist manifesto on why I don't need a man and why I can do my own shit and take care of myself with no help whatsoever. That's just simply not true. I am not so hardheaded and anti-man that I can't admit that I am afraid of spiders and want a guy to kill them for me, nor am I denying the fact that I like to be treated to dinner and a movie as much as the next girl. I can't build furniture by myself, I don't own a ladder, I prefer camping with a strong boy to protect me, and I admittedly can't BBQ my own chicken. I like guys. I like to be swooned. I like to be taken care of and swept off my feet just as much as the next girl. So don't think I am on a soap box about men sucking the life out of women. I'm not. I'm on a soap box about bitches who can't lift a finger or walk in a straight line without a guy to help her up or steer her in the right direction...you know the type. Hopefully you're not one of these women (though if you are we are likely not friends and therefore you are probably not reading this).

Also, don't get me wrong. If you are a stay-at-home mom, more power to you. It is a long, hard, thankless job that I would never want, but I completely understand those who do. And I appreciate so much hearing moms who are there and present with their kids. Stay at home parents are not my rant. I want that to be clear so I am not offending an entire group of people on accident. I am truly only attemping to offend those dumb bitches who just want to be taken care of. Also, if you're in a single-income relationship, you are not necessarily my problem either. Do you stay home because you like to, because you enjoy it and it works for you and your partner? Great! I'm not judging. I'll do me and you do you, that's all dandy. You are only my issue if you feel somehow that I am throwing my life away because I am single and choose to have a job.

This blog came to be after I was recently asked (after 30 days of way too much work, 2 months of way too much work stress, and simultaneously a couple weeks of being really proud of myself at work), "Don't you hate working soooooo much? You're, like, always working...don't you want to get married so you can work less?"

Uhhh, first of all, person who asks fucked up questions, fuck you.

Second, no, I don't wish I was married so I could work less. I work my ass off because I am a strong, capable, motivated individual, not because I am just waiting around for the first guy I see to come sweep me off my feet so I can stay home and pop kids out of my vagina. If I was working to meet a man, I'd work a lot less than I do now. I wouldn't be invested. I wouldn't work overtime. And I certainly wouldn't work in an industry where women dominate. I'd work at a gym. Or at a bar, depending on what kinda guy I was attempting to win over.

I'm not trying to convince anyone that I love to work. I mean really, no one loves to work. We all work because we have to. I work hard so I can pay rent, I work extra hard so I can take the occassional vacation. At no point have I thought, man I wish I had a husband so I could go to Vegas. No, instead I picked up a week of overtime so I could book my own flight and planned my trip!

Seriously the sense of entitlement to a man's income from so many women out there just makes me sick. Earn your own fucking money. He's working for his, do you really think he wants to buy you a $500 purse with his paycheck? I promise you, he doesn't. He wants you to learn the value of a dollar. He wants you to be a smart woman, not a dipshit. He wants a partner, not a dependant.

I am not pursuing my career simply to walk away from it if I ever meet a guy who doesn't have a wife or a secret girlfriend he's hiding from me (as they apparently all do). I am pursuing a career because I want to work. And again, I am not intending to berate a group of women who choose to stay home and raise families, or stay home just because. By all means, do what works for your life. But just like I accept that you stay home, accept (in a nonjudgmental way) that I choose to work and support myself.

And don't ever fucking ask me, "aren't you excited to get married so you can quit your job?!?" unless you want me to knock your fucking head off.

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Maybe Eating Green Does Deserve the Hype

After many failed attempts to "just eat better," I decided to participate in a 24 day cleanse/health challenge with my girlfriend Kattie. She had completed this challenge once before and promised me it would work. And even though it went against everything I liked to believe (until very recently, I would have done a Rant blog post on how unnecessary and ridiculous the organic bandwagon is), I decided I would join her.

Days one through ten were a full-on cleanse - the kind where you don't get to eat or drink anything that tastes good, you pump yourself full of vitamins that leave you rushing to the bathroom every 5 minutes, and you fight tooth and nail to not give into your cravings for salt, sweets, caffeine, or basically anything that's not a fruit or vegetable. It was hard. Ten days is a lot of days to feel like shitting your pants because of all the fiber you're ingesting. Ten days is a long time to feel like crap, to have a headache, and to be tired and sluggish. Ten days is also a long time to attempt to drink 1/2 of your body weight in water. However, in that ten days, I proved to myself that I could make the changes I wanted. I didn't cheat once. Not once. I drank all the water. I popped all the pills. I spent my work days in the bathroom. I threw up the sawdust-textured, barkdust-flavored fiber packets more than once, but I survived. And I lost ten pounds in those first ten days...it was pretty much just my body toxins and water weight, sure, but it was definitely motivating!

Days eleven through twenty-four were easier. Don't get me wrong, they were not easy. I said easier. There were more supplements and a meal replacement shake that actually didn't taste too bad...it was even better if you blended it with fruit. Kattie taught me how to add kale to my breakfast smoothies, and by the end I was pretty much eating a smoothie for both breakfast and lunch, and a salad with some chicken for dinner. I continued to lose weight without adding workouts, but more importantly I was losing inches - when it was all said and done I had lost 19 overall inches and 2 jeans sizes!

This blog is not meant to convince anyone to do the 24 day Advocare challenge (though you should, because it works), but rather to rave about how much better I feel overall by eating more organically, more greens, and less processed crap. I don't even go down the grocery store aisles anymore unless I need pickles or a marinade; I only do the exterior aisles - produce, eggs, chicken. That's it. I shop for as much fruits and veggies at farmer's markets as I can. It has made such a difference! Organic chicken is seriously, so. much. better. It looks, smells, tastes, and cooks better. Its the right color, it has the right texture, it isn't so gigantic that you wonder how the fuck they got a chicken with such big breasts. The first time I bought organic chicken, I was sold. Hook, line and sinker. I take my own chicken to BBQs now, which is both embarrassing and smart. Organic eggs are legit - they stay the right shape when they cook, they're the right color, and they taste clean. Organic produce is clean, crunchy, sweet, and tastes like real produce.

I am on the bandwagon. In the past 30 days since my challenge ended, I have continued to feel better, have continued to lose weight, and have thrown up every time I have attempted to cheat and eat something I used to like. I'm telling you, eating clean is the way to go. It may cost a bit more, but it is worth every penny.

Monday, July 8, 2013

Consider Yourself Blocked

With the availability of social media, it has become increasingly easy to cyber-stalk your friends, your exes, your enemies, and even strangers if the mood strikes. And don't act like you're above Facebook stalking, because you're not. You know you have at least 5 people on your friends list that you don't delete for the sole purpose of being able to peek at their new photos or see where they checked in last Friday night. And I am just as guilty. In fact I probably have more like ten of these people on my friends list. Maybe 15. And I do use Facebook to cyberstalk...I would be lying if I said it wasn't one of the top 5 reasons I even have a Facebook account.

Admit it, sometimes it is just nice to sit at your computer with a cocktail and look at all the dumb shit your ex boyfriend has been up to since you dumped his lame ass, or who your formerly-best friend-turned-evil-bitch has been hanging out with since you threw a drink in her face. I take personal gain in seeing all the "it" girls from high school whose lips were attached to the ass of the jocks, who have since married said jocks, popped out a kid or two, and are now divorced. Yes, I am a bitch because I enjoy this. However, with as evil as these girls were in high school, trust me when I say, they had it coming.

As a cyberstalker, the most annoying thing that ever happends is discovering that you've been blocked. Blocked. Not hidded, not unfriended, but all-in, you-can't-see-shit-I-am-doing-online BLOCKED. I hate it. There is nothing quite as upsetting as searching for someone who you know has a Facebook page and not seeing anything come up. But what is even more annoying is when you are blocked, and then this individual suddenly unblocks you - they don't friend you, of course, but suddenly, at random, you can find their name and maybe a profile photo. Weird. You find yourself wondering, what did I do to deserve this gesture? Are they just trying to spy on me now? Are we mending fences? Is her most recent "episode" over?

And then, a week or so later...you're blocked again. What the fuck?! This has now become just a clusterfuck and you can barely see straight. You find yourself searching their name on a weekly, if not daily basis to see, when am I blocked as opposed to unblocked? Is this based on the full moon, or her menstrual cycle, or is it completely random?

There are 2 people on my block list, and I know of several block lists I am on. I have never once unblocked these 2 individuals. It takes a lot to get me to say, ya know, its not enough for my private profile to show when you look for me, I hate you so much that I don't want you to even know whether or not I still have a page. As if these two people even care, but you can now understand the trouble I've undergone to make my point. Unblocking them now would be like admitting guilt or fault or something. I don't think so!

Here's the thing. If you want to block me from your Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, MySpace, blah blah blah...go right ahead. But then don't get soft and undo your dirty work. Fucking own it. Yea bitch, I blocked you. And blocking, from my standpoint, is forever.

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Sure, There Are Dog People...But Then There Are Cat People

I hate dog people. Yes, I realize that as my first official blog I should avoid segregating my friends from the dog people, who I hate, who will now no longer read this, and the cat people, who I like much better, who will add this blog to a favorites list.

But it needs to be said. I hate dogs.

And I hate most dogs because of their owners. I don't care that your dog is friendly, that it never barks, that it doesn't jump and won't lick my face after it licks its own ass, or that it won't pee on the floor or bite my ankles. Your dog is perfect, I know, that's what all dog people say. You don't hear too many cat people trying to protect their pet by telling bold-faced lies about how, my cat walks on a leash and it doesn't kill birds, nor does it ever scratch the couch or scatter litter all over the floor. Cat people are more up front. We tell the truth. Yes, my cat bites. So what, keep your fingers out of her face. Yea, she misses the litter box sometimes because she's that lazy, I just put a mat down so I don't ruin the carpet. My cat is an ass hole, but all cats are. And cat owners are up front about that. Not like dog owners, who just lie about everything and claim to have the only perfect dog on the face of the Earth.

Cat people take responsibility for the ass hole animal they have living in their home. Dog people just deny, deny, deny. Oh your dog doesn't bark or jump? Interesting...either you're lying or your dog is dead, there is no such thing as a dog that doesn't ever bark and never jumps. That'd be like me saying, my cat has never once climbed up my leg taking half my skin with her, just to get her fat ass into a ray of sun where she can spend the next 27 hours fast asleep.

I'm sure there are many reasons that dog people think they need dogs. They scare off intruders (but not by barking or jumping, supposedly). They are your best friend (which is just pathetic). They are good with kids (until they're not). Dogs are smart (no, they're not). Dogs are cute (so are a variety of other furry animals, many with much quieter, cleaner, smarter personas). I'm allergic to cats (that's what all dog people say). The truth of the matter is, dog people need dogs because other people probably don't like them very much. Dog people are kinda like dogs - loud, a little annoying, and somewhat aggressive, with a personality that a small population of society (generally other dog people) think is cute. Cat people, on the other hand, need cats because they allow us to have a pet and a companion without having too much responsibility. Cat people can remain aloof and independent because our cats can essentially survive without us, assuming we pop in to drop some nasty smelling tuna-looking entree into their bowl every once in a while and scratch under their chin for ten seconds - that's all the time they want anyway before you're suddenly invading their space. Cat people don't need other people do like them; we don't really like other people either.

If you are a dog person, I get it. Dogs are deceitfully cute, especially when they're babies. They have those puppy eyes that baby dogs - and baby humans, actually - get when they are trying to fight with your logical brain, which is telling you to run from the pet store, to not take home this shedding, drooling, pissing-on-the-floor, ass-breath of a dog. Sorta like when you look at someone else's baby and suddenly finding yourself thinking how badly you'd like to run home and get knocked up to make one of these adorable, cooing, patty-caking, yet screaming, demanding, life-sucking babies for yourself. Puppies and babies are the same. They come in adorable packaging to throw you off your game; they are just hoping you're not smart enough to figure it out. Kittens don't lie. Sure, they're cute, but they're also mean. Kittens scratch and bite and don't want to play with you unless it is on their terms. They don't doll themselves up in some cute gift basket trying to be coy - if you bring home a kitten, you know exactly what you're getting: an ass hole for a pet.

Truth be told, there are some (and by some I mean, very few) dogs out there that I can find tolerable. My cousin Kitty had a rescue dog named Dory, and Dory was the best dog. I think I liked Dory because she didn't really know she was a dog; she was more hamster than dog, definitely more bunny rabbit than dog. Dory liked to snuggle, liked to curl up on your lap and practically purr, and never barked (except when someone knocked on the door, got up to feed her, or made any unexpected noise or movement). And I think what I liked best about Dory was that her owner was not one of your typical dog people; Kitty never said the sun rose and set on Dory's ass. She knew she had the most annoying dog in the world whenever she had to pull out Dory's overpriced Thunder shirt because there was a one in seventeen chance of thunder, lightening, or clouds for the evening. Kitty never said, Dory never barks or whines or growls or pees on the floor. Dory was a shithead, and Kitty embraced it. Which is why I loved Dory, but also kinda why I love Kitty.

There are dog people and there are cat people. I happen to (obviously) be a cat person, and I truly do hate most dog people. Ok fine, I don't hate dog people. I just hate dogs. Ok fine, most dogs. Some dogs. Ok fine, I just like cats better.

To Blog or Not To Blog

After earning a degree in writing from Portland State in 2007, I went on to enter the field of property management...where I quickly stopped using my degree (with the exception of drafting emails and posting apartment advertisments on Craigslist). While I enjoy my job and see a comfortable future in the industy, I still read public blogs, articles, novels, magazines and think...that is what I want to do!

A friend recently asked me on Facebook if I was blogging...oh, you mean that rarely used and read only by my own mother whiny journal type thing I have online? Outside of that, no. But thank you for asking. Another moment where I wanted to say yes, yes I am blogging, and here is the link, and please share with your friends! Where the writer in me kicked the ass of the lazy in me and said, uhhh hello...get your ass in gear! Write, you loser!

And so, here I am, prepared to kick myself out of the nest with an actual blog. Not a diary disguised as a journal disguised as a blog, where my family can see my daily dramas play out - isn't that what Facebook and Twitter are for? But rather, a blog where I can post my rants and my raves; what makes me mad (everything) and what makes me happy (also everything).

So for my dear friends - and I guess for my enemies who happen to still be able to view the links I post to Facebook - welcome, to Idle Chatter!