WOMEN AND POLITICS

One thing I've learned: everything in the entire world is political.
Your kid is 8 years old?
FUCK EVERYTHING ABOUT THE WORLD I'M BRINGING THE SPAWN I CAN'T EVEN BE BOTHERED TO PAY ATTENTION TO IN.
Something go your way?
BETTER WHINGE ABOUT IT BECAUSE SOMEONE SURE AS FUCK DIDN'T HAVE THAT GO THEIR WAY.
Anyway today's blog is the one I found on the big list o' women with political blogs even though approximately 0% of the content is related to politics.
She sort of reminds me of the Meanest Mom but not quite as douchey and therefore way more forgettable.

I was 19 when he died … 28 years ago today. I’ve known my father-in-law for 22 years now … longer than I knew my own father. Well, that’s not quite right. I still know my dad. But I only had him here in person for 19 years. Ah, well. This is what happens with the passage of time.

Yeah--
Yeah.

A year ago, my telephone rang at 3 in the morning. It was hospice. We might want to get there now before Mom died, they said in less clear words, which made it harder to snap out of my sleepy haze. I was the only family member they could get on the telephone. I started calling the rest of the family. Hospice called again at 3:30. Mom was gone.

What a shame.
She was a good man--
what a rotten way to die.
It was Friday. I had to tell the kids at breakfast that they weren’t going to school. And why. The grieving began.
We each dealt with our loss in our own way.

Except for the initial shock and the funeral, two of my children said very little. I broached the subject once in a while, but they made it clear they really didn’t want to talk about it. I hadn’t said anything for a while.

This is terrible.

One morning, we were in the car on the way to school with the radio playing, and I was singing … “Hey, soul sister … ain’t that mister mister …” when I heard this tiny voice from the back of the car. I turned down the music and asked, “What was that?”

I wish there was something more I could say.
Actually are you listening to Train?
You deserve to be bludgeoned.

“Do Christians die?”
Ah. I’d been waiting for this. But it still took me by surprise.
Then the questions just tumbled out, one after the other.
Will you die? Will Pappa die? Do we all die?

Everyone you know will die
Everyone you will ever meet will die
Everyone you know will be dead a very long time
and then the sun will explode, killing everyone and destroying everything you've ever known.
Have fun at school today~

Dear Santa,

Please explain to my first-grader that your elves don’t have the parts to make iPads. Or … something. (*cough* $499 *cough*)

Santa got a little wasted this year and got you a Galaxy 3S instead.
Same shit just way cheaper.
Dunno how it happened, kid.
Enjoy that higher resolution though.

My son, who wrote a letter to the king 5 1/2 years ago, 

Elvis?

I finished reading States of Mind: A Search for Faith, Hope, Inspiration, Harmony, Unity, Friendship, Love, Pride, Wisdom, Honor, Comfort, Joy, Bliss, Freedom, Justice, Glory, Triumph, and Truth or Consequences in America

Christ all mighty that's some title.
MY SEARCH FOR EVERY EMOTION OR ABSTRACT CONCEPT I CAN THINK OF IN AMERICA.

It made me look at my own life and wonder what I’ve done, where I’ve been and where I’m going. It made me think of regrets, and it brought out a little envy.

I mean, the man wrote this book in his 20s. Did I do that? No. (I started research for one in my early 30s, but I obviously didn’t write that book.) He seemed to have such a clear path for his life. Did I? Never. He admitted that he suffered angst from basically a perfect life. Have I? Oh, I wish.

>Author says the book came naturally to him with no effort
AND MORE LIES AUTHORS TELL.
There's an entire mythology behind being an author that is true regardless of nation or language and has remained unchanged basically since the invention of writing because non-writers buy into it without question.
How many times have you heard this one:
there was a spark of (divine) inspiration and the entire book came out in one weekend!
I never actually prepared to write-- I just went to bed and woke up and the words were in my head just waiting!
I feel (divine) inspiration whispering to me all the time!
Liars, all of you.
I really give a shit about all the pictures of your kids.

I haven’t done one of these things in a while. Well, a list of things I like about me? I’ve never done that. Have you?

No can't say I'm enough of a twat to write down what I like about myself.
Well, there's one: I'm not enough of a twat to write down what I like about myself.
But now I've done it, so am I that much of a twat?

1. I’m a good (self-taught) cook. I like that others enjoy my food.
2. I’m a loving mother. I’m not perfect, but I know my kids, and I listen to them. I love them for who they are.
3. I’m a voracious reader, and I’ve passed that on to my children.

I mean I guess you seem involved with your kids.
Your blog is certainly about them a lot.
This list goes on but no that ain't happening.
WOW-EE AN EYE FOR COLOR THAT IS SOMETHING WORTH WRITING DOWN!
Oh I thought of a skill I'm actually proud of: in video games, if a weapon is ranged and drops off I can hit someone I can't even see yet with it.
I've skipped like 20 pages of this bullshit now.
This blog is seriously fucking boring.
Jesus Christ.
OH MY GOD I DON'T CARE ABOUT FUCKING NORWAY.
STOP POSTING ABOUT IT.
No fuck this I'm out.
Fuck blogs.
Fuck the internet.