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.”

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)

you’re a bitch, Mary

I’ve always lived by the idea that humor can turn the shittiest of situations around. Obviously it can’t cure extreme circumstances like cancer, but at least it can lighten a mood even if for a few minutes. It’s helped me get out of some dark times so I try to keep my blog posts along these guidelines to keep the train moving in a positive direction. My last post strayed from the ‘course’ and this one will stray a bit too.

I knew I’d regret it almost instantly after publishing my last post about being overwhelmed by the prospect of voting this year. It’s the first time I’ve actually considered deleting a post but decided against it. While the majority of people who commented were intensely passionate, thank you for not going all bat-shit-crazy on me. A lot of your comments made me realize the error of my ways and I will be registering to vote. I appreciate your long and thoughtful responses and your opinions. But there is no way in goddamn fucking hell, I will ever stand by and smile at personal threats and attacks.

I’ve received multiple emails and have read multiple posts people have made on their own blog as a response to mine. Some have called me a ‘retard.’ Some say I’m a piece of shit. Some tell me they wished I would die. Some tell me being overwhelmed by the candidates this year is like being a kindergartner having a temper-tantrum. You guys could have just had a conversation with me like an adult and kept it classy. What the fuck? I actually respected a few of these people as writers. Sad. If, from now on, you have something to say to me and you want me to actually give a shit about your opinion, all you have to do is be kind. Common sense, people. It’s really not that fucking hard. I mean, seriously, how can you expect people to actually respect your opinion when you attack and insult them?

Anyways, this will be my last serious post. Back to humor from now on. Thanks to everyone for coming along on this terrible off-the-tracks train ride. The majority of you are cool as hell.

i’m getting stabby

Sometimes I feel like a bad American. Now, I can definitely get down with the love of hamburgers and pizza. I’m also all about double-fisting cans of really shitty beer until I can’t remember my name and I’m running down the street wearing my bra as a headband. (I haven’t done that before. Nope, never. Really.) I just can’t handle the politics. It makes me stabby. When someone tries to talk to me about them I stare at them wide-eyed and clueless. I’m a lost cause.

People like to give me a lot of shit because I don’t vote. (Yes, you can too if you want. But I’m just going to shake my head slowly and pretend you’re naked and being hugged by a human-size porcupine.) Obviously I care about the issues at hand and a lot of them are important to me, I think I just get too overwhelmed by the arguing. I can’t handle the confrontation. The idiocy. The insanity. I get too emotionally invested by things so I’m better off avoiding them like the plague.

Ready for some irony? My college major was Political Science. (Weird, right?)

(Edited to Add this paragraph) I just can’t handle the way politics turn people into assholes. Recently when Scalia passed away, I read numerous posts on Facebook and here (WP) about celebrations. How it was a great thing. There were jokes over his death, cheers, and a lot of fucked up stuff about how happy people were. Regardless of the guy’s politics – he was still a person. With a family. Who died. Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with people? You’re disgusting. 

I’m curious where you stand, so you better vote down below. I already told you I was feeling stabby. So… you better listen! (Please and thank you 🙂 )

time for a beatdown

There are very few things in life that make me angry enough to want to rip somebody’s face off and wear it as a diaper. Very few. Actually, I pride myself in knowing how to take a joke and rarely being offended by things. Well, yesterday I had one of those moments where a face-diaper almost became a real thing, generously coupled with a swift kick to the balls. (I was in a giving mood… what can I say?)

Guys… telling a woman she shouldn’t wear yoga pants in public because she’s overweight is something that should never happen. Especially when you follow it up with the fact that it’s nothing to do with how it makes her feel, but she shouldn’t wear them because it’s hurting YOUR eyes. I don’t care if you meant it as a joke or not. You’re a prick and fuck you. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with people? What’s happening to common sense and manners?

I truly hope I never overhear something like this again. If I do, there’s a 95% chance I’m going to take a crap on your face. Watch out you sad little shit.

Do you find this joke inappropriate or am I the only one? If you overheard a comment like this would you say something? It really bothered me, but it’s highly possible I’m a bit crazy.

all you need is chocolate.

Although we look at Valentine’s Day as ‘commercial’ in my house, I still can’t condemn a holiday that boasts love. All you really need in life is love and chocolate, right? So, that’s what Alex and I will be focusing on today – making chocolate cookies smothered in huge globs of frosting. (Let’s face it … cake,cupcakes, and cookies are really just vehicles for however much frosting you can pile on and shove down your throat.)  Needless to say … it’s going to be a good day. 

Still, I wanted to share some things I love. They really shouldn’t come as a surprise since I talk about them often, but I never put  legitimate pictures/videos up of people.

Alex, who shares my love for animals and married me despite all of my craziness. 

Pix – my spoiled kitty who is obsessed with her heated bed

Tora – only 4 months old, but knows how to work a camera

Happy Valentine’s Day, guys. Hope y’all have a great day. Remember – you don’t have to be in a relationship to enjoy today. There are plenty of other important things to love on.

light your fears on fire

I was recently contacted by an inspiring woman named Heather Von St. James who, a decade ago, was told by doctors that she only had 15 months left to live. She wasn’t asking me for money or gifts, she simply wanted her story shared to raise awareness and inspire hope.  Her story resonated with me, and so does her message, so even though this isn’t my typical humor post – I hope you’ll continue reading her story.

In 2005, Heather was diagnosed with Mesothelioma caused by asbestos exposure when she was a kid. Her cancer wasn’t caused by smoking, drinking, or anything thought to be menacing – she was simply a little girl who liked to put on a coat her father wore to his construction job. To make matters worse – the diagnosis came a mere handful of months after giving birth to her daughter. She heard the news that so many people fear –  she only had 15 months left to live. (Can you imagine coming face-to-face with death? The possibility you would not only leave your husband behind… but you would miss out on your daughter’s life?) Along with chemo, Heather braved a terrifying, yet successful, surgery to remove her left lung. She has coined the day of her surgery (February 2nd)  ‘Lung Leavin’ Day‘ and she celebrates the anniversary every year.

Lung Leavin’ Day is all about facing your fears and not letting them control you. I can only imagine what Heather felt. The fear of dying and leaving her family behind. That her daughter would be without a mother. Having the money for treatment. Whether or not the surgery would be successful. Every year she, along with friends and family, celebrate Lung Leavin’ Day on February 2nd by writing their fears on plates and smashing them into a fire. This year, Alex and I are joining her.

Truthfully, neither of us have ever been through anything as scary or traumatic as Heather, but there’s no doubt we have our own fears. Rather than writing them on a plate and smashing it, we opted for lighting a paper plate on fire. There’s something very calming and cathartic about seeing your fears go up in flames.

Guys, life is too short to be controlled by fear and things that aren’t in our control. Be thankful for what you have. What you’ve had in the past. And for every day that you have here.

 Here’s our burning plate. My #1 fear? Infertility. Alex’s? Failure. 

There is a lot more to Heather’s story than what I wrote in this summary.
– Visit her page here where she goes into detail about her cancer diagnosis and recovery.
– Want to smash a plate without lighting a fire? Visit her interactive page to smash a virtual plate.
– Visit mesothelioma.com to learn more about this deadly form of cancer.

i don’t want to talk to you today

Ever have moments where you wish you were young again? Not because Monster High kicks ass, responsibility blows, and as an adult you are all too aware of all the shitty things happening in the news. You just need a day to get away. A day of silence. Just one day to do nothing that actually matters, only mind-numbing tasks that make life a little happier and easier to get through. (Is that too much to ask?)

I mean, let’s face it… life is consuming. Work, bills, your spouse, kids – they are all bricks getting stacked on top of you and you’re starting to get crushed. The stress makes it hard to breathe. You’ve lost yourself to responsibility. Seriously, when was the last day you spent treating and taking care of yourself?

So… I decided I’m setting aside a day this week to spend by myself. A solo trip to the movies. Wandering around the mall aimlessly and buying something I want and don’t need. I’m going to order way too much Chinese food, then bring it home and eat it on the couch while I watch five hours of Downton Abbey in one night. I’m going to go to bed whenever the hell I want, and wake up whenever the hell I want.

There’s so much emphasis on physical health with these New Year’s resolutions. What about taking care of your mental state? Time to reboot and recharge, guys. Y’all should do it, too.

(I think this is my first non-humor post. I debated not posting it. But, let’s be real — I’m not always a clown. I have my serious moments and struggles, too)

 

what a charity case

I couldn’t successfully complete a resolution if my life depended on it. Needless to say – I didn’t bother making any this year. I’ve tried the weight loss ones, but pizza always wins. I’ve tried giving up alcohol but, let’s be honest here… I’d do some pretty embarrassing things just for a glass of wine. So, I decided it would be easiest to just expand on something I already successfully do. (Then I won’t feel like an ass when I don’t completely fail at a new goal.)

With that being said, I added a new page to my blog. I told a few people this would be completed in December, but the holidays had me pretty damn side-tracked so I’m a bit late on that. Sorry, folks. I’ve been in a cheesecake-induced coma. Some of you know I crochet and sell cat toys to help raise money for the SPCA. (If you didn’t know – now you do! Ha) After a bunch of people contacted me about them online, I thought I’d take it to the internet to try and raise money as well. (Why not, right?) On top of doing cat toys for the SPCA, I’m also crocheting baby blankets & stuffed toys to raise money for St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital. A few cat toys and blankets are on my new Etsy site already, but I will definitely be adding more as I complete them. Keep an eye out 🙂

Here are some catnip Valentine’s Day puffy hearts:

I hope everyone’s New Years started off on the right foot. Did you make resolutions? Have you ever actually completed one? Good luck, y’all.