some things can’t be unseen

Ever see something so disturbing you wish you could rip your eyes out and trade them in for a new set? Or, at the very least, have the option of inviting over the Men in Black and having them zap away some unpleasant memories? Wouldn’t that be nice? Damn. I read a news article yesterday that reminded me of something last year that haunted me on a daily basis. Prepared to be disturbed. Or offended. Either is okay…. we’re all friends here.

Last summer, I took my 6-year-old niece to the birthday party of one of her classmates. Now, I don’t have any kids and always feel awkward in these situations, so I like to pretend I’m busy on my phone besting my Angry Birds score or something. (It sucks being socially awkward, you know?) Then, another classmate at the party came up to me to talk about the game while she was eating some birthday cake.

Girl: Oh, I’m way past that score! Here… I can show you how to play it right.

Girl’s Mom (to me): Oh, you don’t have to let her use your phone. She just can’t put the electronics down!

Me: Oh, that’s okay. I’m impressed at her game skills.

Girl: I’m thirsty mom, can I have milk?

Girl’s Mom: Sure, come sit here. *Takes her boob out to breastfeed*

*6-year-old girl runs over to suck her mom’s boob while she’s wrecking my Angry Birds score. Phone is officially declared to be in a hostage situation at this point.*

I was…. mortified.

Now… let me just say this – I fully support the movement for normalizing breastfeeding. I think people make a big deal out of it when it shouldn’t be. But… I can’t help but be disturbed by this. The situation legitimately made me feel sick to my stomach. This girl is in 1st grade and eating normal food like cake. The only thing I could manage to do was ask for my phone back and use the bathroom excuse. GOTTA GO, CAN’T WAIT!

How would you have reacted to this situation? Are you disturbed? Weirded out? Slightly nauseous? Or do you think this is 100% normal and okay?

What is going on? This is why I try to stay home as often as possible.

my agenda is full, thanks

Lately I’ve decided life is too hard and I’ve been finding it helpful to practice my favorite yoga position – face down on the couch in a pile of blankets. Ever get like that? I mean, seriously… unless someone is dying, don’t bother me. My mind is on vacation and the most important thing on my agenda is to see how many mini marshmallows I can fit in my mouth. (16. The answer is 16.) Thank God my husband hasn’t run away screaming bloody murder from disgust over my aversion to showers the past few days. The cats have taken to avoiding me. Assholes.

When I was finally able to drag my sorry ass out of the house, Alex and I decided to do something fun to lift the mood: bad food and arcade games. It works, guys. 4 out of 5 doctors in the US recommended.

Yes, that’s fried onion strings. On top of boneless buffalo wings. On top of a a pile of melted blue cheese. On top of a burger. I love America.

Then Alex won me a stuffed polar bear. He is the King Of The Claw Machine.

Yes, I’m 29 and still get excited over my husband winning me a stuffed animal. I’m not embarrassed.

I hope y’all had a great Easter filled with an overabundance of chocolate and jelly beans. Now that I’m functioning like a normal person again, I will be spending time catching up on the blogs I’ve missed.

stop pussy-footing around

When I was in college I was invincible. Life is fleeting, and all I knew back then was that I wanted every moment to count. Every moment to be memorable. Which explains the years that I thought it was completely justifiable to get drunk, rip my clothes off, and run down the street with a bong clutched in my hand and tassels dangling from my nipples. Or when I didn’t think twice about bungee-jumping in that really sketchy neighborhood in Mexico for only $5. Smart? No. Memorable? Definitely. Hey, I never claimed to be the smartest person.  Don’t judge.

Yesterday I got word that my sister-in-law wanted to go sky-diving for her 30th birthday with all of the adults in our family. I was, well…. horrified. Seriously. In the last decade life has become a lot more fragile. I make sure I’m more careful and avoid any unnecessary risks. I have an amazing husband and future goals that I’m not ready to put on the line for a cheap thrill. Of course, Alex was excited about the prospect of going before I shot him a nervous look and he decided to back down from the idea. I’m such a bore and a damper on a good time. Whoops.

Would you want to go sky diving for your birthday? What if you had 3 young children and a lot to put on the line if, heaven forbid, something went wrong? Have you gone sky diving and think it’s totally safe (enough for me to not worry about my husband going?)

 

welcome to Lame City

I went through a phase as a teenager when nothing made me happy. Gifts were met with an eye-roll and talks with my parents resulted in the typical ‘stay out of my life‘ or ‘you’re so embarrassing!‘ God, teenagers suck. What the hell? Thankfully… it didn’t last long. (Kids – there’s no better friend than your mom/dad. Who else is willing to pay for all of your unnecessary crap and deal with your shit? No one. NO ONE, I tell you!)

I find myself being the polar opposite lately. I got new towels today and it made me so happy I did a little jig in the bathroom as I hung them up. Because I got towels. Then a handful of Starburst jelly beans made me sing a song. I’m not sure if I’m becoming more appreciative of little things in my old age, or becoming more lame. Seriously, who gets excited over towels? And food? I think it’s all downhill from here, folks. Next up – getting excited over fiber pills and how they do wonders for my digestive system. Stay tuned.

Yesterday was my husband’s birthday. There is nothing in this world more important to me than him, so I wanted to add it in. Happy Birthday, Alex. 

help yourself to some tasty poop water

I live on a cul-de-sac in one of the top 5 safest towns in America. Seriously. People are happy here with their pedigree dogs and their perfect families. Everybody waves. Everybody’s polite. It’s  goddamn sickening, guys, and completely unnatural. But everyone deals with neighbors that need to be slapped upside the head once in awhile. Even here in Perfectville, USA.

I’ve had an ongoing issue with one of the neighborhood kids. Now, you don’t need much introduction to this kid, except that he lives across the cul-de-sac and he specializes in being strange and an asshole. Good times. I know that sounds harsh, but really…. all kids are strange as hell. Yes, even yours. This kid will do whatever the hell he wants and has parents who are never home to correct the behavior. He climbs over our fence and tramples on our garden. He’s opened and walked right into our front door. He’s even taken our mail from the box before. It’s insanity.  I, and many other neighbors, have talked to him and his parents multiple times but nothing ever comes of it.Awhile ago I spoke to him again about staying out of our yard, especially if the gate is locked. But… he didn’t listen. Again.

So I came up with a master plan to get him back. Which required me asking one of my other neighbors if I could have his dog’s poop. (Yes, it was awkward. Yes, he probably thought I was crazy and questioned whether this town is safe anymore.) I lined up the poop by the fence where the kid lands and hosed it down with water. You know… to soften it up nicely for impact. So thoughtful of me, right? Then… I sat there excitedly eating chips and waited all day staring out my window. It was worth it. Just to see the look on the kids face when he fell into a puddle of murky shit water with bugs floating all around. He hasn’t jumped our fence in months.

Blair: 1 Neighbor Boy: 0

Sometimes you’ve gotta fight fire with fire.

(Disclaimer – No, this kid doesn’t have any disabilities besides being a jerk, so don’t worry. And, yes, I could have been an adult and not stooped to his level, but where the hell is the fun in that?)

hey, suck on this

I go to the post office multiple times a week, so lately I’ve been trying to befriend the women who work there. It’s proven to be difficult because, let’s face it, most government employees have the personality of a sullen teenager who’s mastered the art of sighing and being an asshole at the same time. Good job, guys! Way to set the bar high.

Since I see the same few women every time I go, I try to be as friendly as possible even though it’s normally met with restraint. Today I crafted a plan to get on their good side. I was going to bring them what all adults want in their mouths – lollipops. What person doesn’t like lollipops, right? They would love me after this. Pure genius.

Post Office Lady: How are you today? Anything liquid, fragile, perish—-

Me: I brought you lollipops! The good ones… with the gum in the middle.

Lady: Oh, uh, thanks? I guess? That was….thoughtful of you.

Me: You’re welcome. I’m here all the time so I thought it would be a step in the direction of a new friendship between us.

Lady: Sure. Anything in the box liquid, fragile, perishable or explosive?

Me: Nope. Unless cocaine is perishable haha. I’m just kidding. Seriously, that was a bad joke. It’s not cocaine.

Lady: ……

Me: It’s just weed. Gotcha! *slaps knee* I’m here all night, folks.

Lady: I’m going to need you to wait here…

 

Lesson Of The Day – There is such a thing as ‘too much, too soon.’ Don’t force awkward jokes with strangers when you have nothing else to talk about. And… drugs are not a good topic to bring up, especially when you are standing in the middle of a government building.

‘Word Vomit’ … it’s a real thing, guys!

keep your hands to yourself

I had planned on reblogging this post from Lady Dickson, but since she is self-hosted, it wouldn’t let me. Damn it! It’s a post she did in response to my last one. You know, the one where a random man felt the need to put his hands on me in the middle of a grocery store. Thankfully she let me share it here anyway. Read it. Let it resonate. Again … this is not okay.

I’m going to close the comments here. Please visit her original post to join the conversation.

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“My awesome and hilarious friend Blair over at The Shameful Sheep shared with us a tale in which she was a victim to not Keeping Your Hands To Yourself and was randomly grabbed on the ass by a stranger while out grocery shopping. Thanks to the shock that goes with this fun experience, she did nothing about it. Which is fair, because I’ve fucking been there and now it’s time for me to tell my story.

Naturally, her take on it is more chill and comical than mine as I am filled with rage at almost all times forever.

Back when I was sixteen, my friend and I went to an Edmonton Eskimos game (CFL football for the millions who have no idea what I just said). I don’t think we were there with either of our parents as I think they were just picking us up afterwards. I don’t remember the score or anything at all about the game. The only thing I remember was that it was nice out as I was only wearing a light sweater. White, with a hood. And some jeans.

After the game, my friend and I were walking along the concourse that was outside on the east side. I look up and see this tall, blonde man who was alone, walking towards us. No big deal, the place was pretty packed. I look back at my friend and all of a sudden I feel this strange mans hand on my chest fondling my goodies. And then he was gone. It happened SO fast.

“What the FUCK?” I stopped and looked around. My friend asked me what was wrong but it felt so goddamn out of whack that I couldn’t speak. About 2 minutes had passed and I told her what happened. “What the hell, why didn’t you say anything??”

I haven’t shared this story with anyone until today but Blair’s post pissed me off so much that I needed to vent about it. Just so all you fucking idiot men and women who think this is a compliment are aware, this is sexual assault and it’s not okay. You did not have my permission to touch me. You did not have permission to touch Blair. Where is it we can go, exactly, without being targets? Also, strange older man randomly grabbing at sixteen year old girls chests, you are a fucking pedophile, congratulations. I hope a woman has never touched your wiener.

I hate that I remember this story as vividly as I do, but that’s what happens when this kind of shit goes down. A 5 second fondle from a complete stranger, and it’s ingrained in the membrane, ingrained in the brain.

The fact that both Blair and I let it happen without repercussion drives me mad. I’m not blaming Blair at all, it’s a weird situation to be in and you have no idea what goes through the mind unless you’ve had it happen to you. But let me tell you: if tall, blonde man had done this to me now (or any man in the future, just an FYI), I will grab your pathetic sack of nuts and squeeze until you can belt out Madame fucking Butterfly with ease.

Unless I give you permission to get all up on my grill, stay the fuck away from me.”

let’s crush those tomatoes, ladies

While I was reaching for some of my prized Chobani yogurt in the grocery store the other day, a random man grabbed my ass. Believe me when I say – it took all of the willpower I could muster to refrain from turning around and crushing his balls so hard they looked like deflated tomatoes with their guts oozing out. What a prick, right? I looked for Alex to defend my honor but he wandered off and had been lost in the beer aisle at that point. Damn it!

I’m not sure why anyone would think touching a random person would be a great start to any sort of ‘relationship.’ Especially when one person was wearing a blatantly obvious wedding ring (as I was!) Did he expect me to just escort him to the bathroom and drop my panties for him? Or that we would start a long-lasting and loving relationship from some unwelcome groping? I mean, seriously…has any woman (or man, really) ever had a positive response to something like this? Where the fuck do people get the nerve to grab people?! So many questions, so little answers. 

People, it is never okay to touch a stranger. Don’t grab their ass. Don’t grab their arm. Don’t even poke them. Not. Okay. You copy? Just don’t. ‘Hey, Chobani kicks ass, so you must too’ is a much better ice breaker. Plus, your balls will have a much better chance of making it through the shopping trip without being harmed.

step away from the Skittles

Earlier today my morning breath was so bad it made my husband gag. Rather than let me go get my shit in order he took some few deep breaths and powered through. Gotta respect a person who can deal with your gross qualities even when it tastes like a rat wiped its ass with your tongue. I know, I’m ruining the picture in your mind of how glamorous my life is. This is the sad reality, folks. You better believe it. (Don’t judge – your breath in the morning isn’t minty fresh either. Who’re you trying to fool?)

I’ve been trying to look at the things in life that make me happy because it makes me a more thankful person. You know, just the small things. Like my cats loving me so much they drop a cockroach on my pillow in the middle of the night. Or, even though I repulse Alex to the point of gagging sometimes, he will still go see Zootopia and share some Skittles and a blue slushie with me. (Yes, I’m a 29-year-old child.) I’m even thankful for my niece who told me I should probably step away from said Skittles because I need some help before bathing suit season. Thanks for the brutal honesty, kid.

When life takes a shit on you and you’re wading through a rough patch, it’s nice to remember the small stuff. Even if the great things you have are cloaked in unexpected disguises. You’ll just have to look a bit harder.

a nose full of armpit

When I was young I convinced the other kids in my neighborhood that my dad invented farting. I had one hell of an imagination back then. I thought it was a fun game to see what absurd shit I could convince other kids of. (Kids will believe anything so, why not? Fun for everyone.) For days, every time they saw my dad they’d laugh and congratulate him on his great discovery. He had no idea what was going on so he’d just stand there and awkwardly stare at them like they were walking around with a foot growing out of their faces. The ruse went on for awhile until my sister finally told them it was impossible for someone to invent a bodily function and that I was just fucking with them. She thought it was important I remained honest. I was pissed and hated her for ruining my fun. That bitch.

My sister has always looked out for me and tried to keep me on the right path. Even going as far as smelling my armpits to make sure I really did put deodorant on when I said I did. Or being the one to teach me how to shave my legs. She is by far the most badass and influential person that I know. Even though I’m a day late for International Women’s Day, it doesn’t even matter. She’s celebrated in my mind every day.

Thanks, Moe, for smelling my armpits and telling the neighbors that we aren’t heiresses to the fortune of fart discovery. 

(Random question – I’m thinking of making a new header for my site, but I’m terrible at doodling. If any of you are good at drawing and interested in doing a simple doodle for me, email me at theshamefulsheep@gmail.com if you want to work something out)