Texas: A Visual Journey

It only took me 9 nine days to get these up! Enjoy.

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Three TV Shows I’m Looking Forward to Tonight

1. House
2. Heroes
3. Mystery Diagnosis

It’s my way to relax because I enjoy:

1. Sick People
2. Freaky People
3. Sick People (the more the better)

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A Damn Crying Shame

Goodness knows there are plenty of dark rainclouds overhead these days, but I’ve got a particular barb in my side that I need to put out there. I am referring to the two recent suicides of young men who were bullied and emotionally brutalized by their peers with anti-gay epithets. Both of these young men were 11 years old. Eleven. Fucking. Years. Old.

Even now all I can seem to manage is to stare blankly ahead and wonder: “What the FUCK happened here?”

On one level, I am amazed at the capacity for cruelty that some children have. I will grant you that hate is not an innate instinct - it’s learned - but I refuse to give a free pass to these kids because they are well aware of the pain they cause. They see it, and they enjoy it. Bullying is such a red hot issue with me. Just thinking about those two dead kids makes me wanna track down their tormentors, grab them by the hair, drag them to the morgue, and say, “Look at this. Look at this, you little bastard. YOU did this.” What can we do to make these kids feel the full weight of accountability for the horrible things they do to their peers? Bullying just sucks every last bit of generosity out of my soul. I don’t give a fuck if poor little Johnny gets his ass beaten at home by a drunk daddy….the minute poor little Johnny turns it around on one of his peers, That. Is. IT. End of the line. End of my sympathy. My heart is fucking breaking for these families who have lost their children to suicide, and I want to know why Jaheem and Carl were the ones that had to pay the price for this. You can totally call me an asshole, but if anyone had to die for this, it should have been the bullies. Period.

I just don’t see school staff or administrators doing shit about it. Not 10 years ago when I was going through it in school, and not now. “Ignore it,” they said. “If they know if bothers you, they’ll just keep doing it,” others would say. “They’re just jealous,” a well-meaning adult would offer. I lived through more than my fair share of it, and I was pushed so far beyond despair that it eventually turned in to anger. I was so unbelievably angry. I cannot begin to tell you how many times I was called “Warthog” or “Fat Bitch;” laughed at, ostracized, excluded from activities….and for what? For nothing. I would keep my head down, pretend I didn’t hear, and then go find somewhere dark and quiet place where I could sob my heart out. But I remember the exact moment when I’d had enough of it.

I was walking down the hall with a guy friend who was a fellow math geek when I heard a shout from a nearby doorway: “Hey, John! You get all the hot chicks, man!” It was the second time this particular asshole had pulled that stunt. I stopped dead in my tracks. I could feel my heart racing and face flushed, but I wasn’t going to fucking cry anymore. I dropped my books on the floor, walked over to the guy, grabbed him around the collar with both hands and threw him as hard as I could into the door frame. His eyes were the size of silver dollars, and I stared at him with every ounce of venom I could pull together. The only thing that stopped me from laying him out on the fucking floor was a shout from the room monitor that there was no fighting allowed in the computer lab. (To this day I regret not giving that motherfucker a black eye.) So I let him go and he said not one word to me as I walked away. I went home from school that day, fed my German Shepherd Fritz a huge tasty meal and I waited around to collect a present from the yard. I gift wrapped the dog crap and the next day I had the office deliver it to the asshole while he was in class. By lunchtime I had complete strangers running up to me to congratulate me and thank me. It was totally surreal, but then I got it: that asshole had bullied these people, too. That’s when the School Administrative Machine decided to make itself known. The Superintendent of the school district was sent to talk with me. The principal warned of the serious conversation he would have to have with my mother. (Little did he know that my mother - also a victim of brutal bullying - had already taken me out to my favorite restaurant to celebrate my standing up to that asshole. Principal Dickhead was then doubly appalled to receive a letter from my mother - a 22-year military veteran - who wrote an incredibly scathing critique about a school that would let an unidentified closed package, that could have contained any number of dangerous things, be delivered to a classroom. He didn’t see that one coming at all.) They didn’t punish the asshole for being an asshole, and they didn’t punish me either. Tell me again, Prinicipal Dickhead, what kind of message were you trying to send?

That was a long story to get me to one point: I do not tolerate bullying. Ever. The hippies of the world can go ahead and say that “An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind,” but whatever world their talking about is definitely not the world where school bullying exists. I didn’t bust out the dog crap suprise again, but I did spend my last year and a half in high school on the offensive in peak form. I waited for the best opportunities, and then I let the bullies and skinny bitches, the jocks and the snobs, get exactly what they deserved. I’d let them copy my homework, having provided mostly wrong answers; I’d use class discussions to flaunt their ignorance and then let them flounder and try to dig themselves out of the hole; I’d stare holes in the back of their heads when I caught them making nasty remarks about someone. I did everything I could to make it clear to them that they were the fuck-ups here, not the rest of us.

People may think I was a duplicitous bitch for these things. They may think that what I was doing was a form of bullying and no better than what was done to me initially. And those would all be totally valid observations. The only difference is that the things I did were for no other reason than to find a way to survive school with my sense of self intact. Jaheem and Carl, and others like them, just ended up dead.

I’m sorry that Jaheem and Carl didn’t have anyone to help them fight this. I wish I could have been there. I would have told those boys to turn right around, walk up to that bully, and rack them in the balls as hard as possible. And then I would have sat right by them in the principal’s office and said, “Principal Dickhead, we would be delighted to stop racking people in the nuts. You just let us know how and when you’ll make the bullying stop, and we’d be happy to oblige.”

Bullies are sharks. They’re little bastards with big teeth, and when they smell blood they don’t ever give up. Don’t run away, don’t yell “Leave me alone!”, just turn around and fight for your life.

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Scenes from Texas

*while driving and miraculously not killing us, because I am a shit driver, apparently.*

Ellie:  *bouncing head to music*  Ooooo, I like this song.

Morgan: *gives sideye* Who is it?

E: Kelly Clarkson

M: *nothing but the sound of her inner, tattooed goth screaming in pain*

E: Shut up, you.  I like it.

_____

*During round 27 of the Aunt Morgan/Vampire the Five Year Old spiderman v. dinosaur deathmatch*

Vampire: Raaaaaarrrrrrrrrr!

Ellie: Honey, can mommy play with Aunt Morgan for a little while, please?

Vampire: Okay, mommy. *hands me the dinosaur*

*Morgan and Ellie fall out laughing*

_____

My kids LURVED and big giant cartoon hearted Auntie Morgan.  Not only did she come with toys, she came with big heaping buckets of patience and some actual brain cells, neither of which mommy has any more.

My dogs, however became divided into adorwable smooshy who’s-a-cute-widdle-puppy (the new Chihuahua puppy who is pretty damn kyoot) and The Asshole, who got banished to Dog Jail, otherwise known as his crate, because he has no manners at all and apparently only likes us for some weird reason.   Morgan was kind of taken aback at walkies time, because it is sort of like walking a rat on a leash.  They’re pretty damn small compared to Kiba-chan, who I believe is the size of a small elegant pony.  I like my little rat dogs, though.

More later.  Off to save a toddler from certain dooooom.

~Ellie

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More from Tey-haaas.

Had my first taste of truly Southern fair yesterday. Ellie took me to a little place called the Potatoe Patch (no, I didn’t spell potato wrong, they did). It was my first round with okra and fried green tomatoes and I’d say things went pretty well. I really liked the fried okra, and I’m still deciding about the tomatoes. This is gonna sound so Yankee of me, but for the longest time I thought “fried green tomatoes” was just the title of a movie. I didn’t think that people actually, you know, ATE those things. Surprise, surprise.

Things are going well here. I cannot get over how green this place is right now. It’s so fucking green here! As I was leaving Minneapolis I had just the day before spotted a lilac bush sprouting little green buds. In a vast ocean of brown, brown, brown I had found the little green spouts on the lilac bush. It was heaven. And then I came to Texas… Texas at this time of year is like snorting a line heaven right off of Ellie’s coffee table.

I wonder how badly I really want to go back to Minneapolis? Hmmm….

PS: I super-heart Ellie’s Crunchy Granola Friend. She is ten different flavors of awesome.

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Update from Texas!

Well, Morgan is here!  YAY!  After getting completely turned around and going to the wrong terminal at the airport, I finally was able to find Morgan and stick her in my car.  (Also, it’s official.  I can’t drive worth a shit.  I’ve almost killed us like 12 times.  Thanks, Houston.)

My children big giant cartoon heart her and never want her to leave, because she is Fun Aunt.  I think Vampire may possibly try to stow away with her, as she is WAY more fun than me.   It’s also been really, really, REALLY nice to have an extra pair of hands to distract the small people while I do x or y and it’s made me realize I really should take the help my friends instead of getting hopelessly behind and not getting anything done.

Also, my dog is an asshole.  Morgan has really and truly tried to make friends, Chico the Terhuahua has been growling and generally being a turd, so he has been banished to the kennel until he can learn to act like he has some dog manners.  Spike, however, has been adorable, and I might have to do a luggage check before Morgan leaves to make sure she hasn’t squirrled him away in there.  He’s very small compared to Kiba-chan (well, he’s small in general.  He weighs about two pounds.) and she’s getting a kick out of this tiny dog walking all over the furniture and all over her.  I heart my tiny dog, I do have to say.  He’s pretty fucking cute.

Well, we’re off today to visit my Crunchy-granola hippie friend, who will probably have churned butter or cured bacon or something for our visit.  ;)

More soon!

Ellie

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I Cannot Possibly Get To Texas Fast Enough.

Holy Hell, I just want to get away from this city!! I want to get away from the people, the tenants, the demands, the dirty dishes, and yes, even the dog and the cat. I feel horrible for saying this, but nothing Ray Charles the Cat does these days is cute. Nothing. Every time he opens his little cat mouth to meow I hear the horrible screeching of a thousand starving harpies saying, WHEN THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING TO FEED ME, LADY?!?! Part of me would like to indulge in a full-on, kicking-and-screaming tantrum because, dammit!, that litter box is the most disgusting thing. EVER. (Who the fuck ever thought that was a good idea? Cat piss? In the house?!?! Brilliant motherfuckers.) Of course, the cat is not to be outdone by the greyhound, who has a talent for making a tail wag and a whine sound like nothing less than an omen of imminent and eternal damnation.

*$#*%$!!

I want to go to Texas. I want to go where it’s warm, and where I’m not obligated to do the dishes (but if I felt so inclined, I could contribute towards doing the dishes as a thank you to my lovely host, Ellie). I want to enjoy someone else’s chaos and thank the stars that it won’t be following me home (though Ellie has repeatedly threatened to stow one of her children in my carry on luggage. “Sorry, Homeland Security, I have no idea where this toddler came from.”) I want to sit around with Ellie all day and do our hair and nails, play videogames, do art projects, and gossip until our fucking tongues rot right out of our mouths.

Whhhhiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnneeeee!

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Deep In The Heart of Texas

I am excited to announce that in 10 short days I will be flying in to Texas to meet up with fellow FatGrrl and blogger, Ellie! It’s kind of amazing, she and I being able to run this site together, having never met face to face. Until now!

I think Ellie summed up best the kind of amazingness that will occur when the two of us are in the same state:

I think only dogs and dolphins will be able to hear all the EEEEeeeeEEEEEeeeeeee-ing that will be going on at the airport when you get here. Should be totally awesome. We can horrify onlookers with all of the vowel sounds.

SQUEEEEEE!

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