The misconception is that I hate children. Allow me to clear the air. I hate most children. This probably includes yours. You see, if you have the time to read a completely unpopular blog, you should probably be spending that time watching your kid(s). They get themselves into all sorts of trouble when you're pretending to care about their happenings.
This problem arises when people who probably shouldn't breed, at least at this point in their lives, do. They haven't given themselves enough time to enjoy life without the responsibility of another human being. I can't pretend I know what it is that makes them think bringing another life into this world is appropriate because I am bias, and not in their favor. In case you couldn't tell.
It's not even within my realm to pretend to enjoy children that I absolutely don't. It's a rare event that causes me to, "lose my cool," and act out, however, misbehaving or just painfully uncool kids do just that. I escape my calm, cool, collected self and resort to sneaking into another room to dish my distaste to those whom might agree. In extreme cases, I've even been known to shoot the parents a dirty look that suggests, "Your kid sucks."
And you will never see a parent apologize for their child in these situations, no. Uncool kids are direct results of two completely uncool people figuring out that their private parts fit together.
Why can children get away with such terrible social skills while their actions performed by another age group would be frowned upon, reprimanded and even held legally accountable in some situations.
If I pulled my pants down and started peeing on the floor of a public place, I do believe it wouldn't be considered cute and followed up with, "Aw, oh no, look at Kimmie. She just found her hoo hoo."
I'd be writing this blog on the wall of a cell.
Are we doomed?
Friday, February 25, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Mama said there'd be...
Two shots down and I feel like I have just enough inspiration to drive me into starting a blog.
With that being said, this first blog is dedicated to my mother; a woman who is still very much alive. I must note that her being a living person shouldn't diminish the magnitude of said dedication.
It has recently occurred to me that she has a thing or two to say that make complete sense. As a rebellious teenager, it was never my place to get along with her or even respect her. However, with age comes wisdom, right? Well, not with everyone, but certainly with me. Hell, I'm wise enough to be aware of the fact that my bloggage may not warrant a single follower.
She told me, "eventually you stop looking for what you want in a person and, instead, start looking for what you don't want."
My best example for this is knowing that a man I dated, and the term, "man," is about as loosely used as political correctness at a KKK meeting, couldn't contain the slightest composure during the opening scenes of the movie, "Shortbus." If you are unfamiliar with this movie, that's fine. Just know that anyone who has ever seen pornography should be comfortable watching the opening scenes of this movie and we all know there isn't a, "man," alive that hasn't seen pornography.
I remember feeling hurt and particularly offended at his dismissal of the movie. I felt as if I was showing a piece of my own artwork that he couldn't care less about. Not only was he distracted but he made it a very strong point to let me know just how uninterested he was. Like he was too much of a man to watch another man try to suck his own dick. Ladies and gentlemen, we are all familiar with the term, "masturbation," are we not?
I have since had my experience with men and women and the criteria I once held so crucially important has dwindled down to merely looking for those things in a person that should not be there in a partner. I do not discriminate by gender; I gauge attraction on more than what may or may not be between a person's legs. However, I maintain that being able to sit through the beginning of the movie, "Shortbus," without giggling, commenting on the wackiness, pretending to vomit or complete dismissal is something I haven't removed from my once-so-long-list of, "what I want in a person."
With that being said, this first blog is dedicated to my mother; a woman who is still very much alive. I must note that her being a living person shouldn't diminish the magnitude of said dedication.
It has recently occurred to me that she has a thing or two to say that make complete sense. As a rebellious teenager, it was never my place to get along with her or even respect her. However, with age comes wisdom, right? Well, not with everyone, but certainly with me. Hell, I'm wise enough to be aware of the fact that my bloggage may not warrant a single follower.
She told me, "eventually you stop looking for what you want in a person and, instead, start looking for what you don't want."
My best example for this is knowing that a man I dated, and the term, "man," is about as loosely used as political correctness at a KKK meeting, couldn't contain the slightest composure during the opening scenes of the movie, "Shortbus." If you are unfamiliar with this movie, that's fine. Just know that anyone who has ever seen pornography should be comfortable watching the opening scenes of this movie and we all know there isn't a, "man," alive that hasn't seen pornography.
I remember feeling hurt and particularly offended at his dismissal of the movie. I felt as if I was showing a piece of my own artwork that he couldn't care less about. Not only was he distracted but he made it a very strong point to let me know just how uninterested he was. Like he was too much of a man to watch another man try to suck his own dick. Ladies and gentlemen, we are all familiar with the term, "masturbation," are we not?
I have since had my experience with men and women and the criteria I once held so crucially important has dwindled down to merely looking for those things in a person that should not be there in a partner. I do not discriminate by gender; I gauge attraction on more than what may or may not be between a person's legs. However, I maintain that being able to sit through the beginning of the movie, "Shortbus," without giggling, commenting on the wackiness, pretending to vomit or complete dismissal is something I haven't removed from my once-so-long-list of, "what I want in a person."
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