I  want to begin this blog by stating that this blog is for me.  It is not to be debated, it is an outlet for me to try to channel my emotions.  No one is forced to read it but I am entitled to write it.  I have been filled with so many difficult emotions this week that I need to explain them to myself or anyone that cares to listen, why this presidential election is difficult for me to process.  These are my opinions and no one needs to agree with them but I hope that whoever may read this will respect them.

I love that our country allows us the freedom of speech.  I disagree with a lot of people, but I respect that people have their own opinions and hope that people will respect mine.  Our feelings are our own, we have them for a reason and debating them will not change them.  One thing I will never respect is hate and bigotry and I would hope that everyone I know feels the same.  The people who did not vote for Trump, and most likely many that did, are struggling with what will happen when a bigot is President.  I’ll admit, I agree with some of his policies, maybe even more than I agreed with Clinton’s, but I could not bring myself to vote for him nor will I ever respect him.  For me, his bigotry was a deal breaker.  Do I understand why some people did vote for him, absolutely.  Do I think that everyone that voted for Trump is a bigot?  No.  Not at all.  I believe that people felt that the issues he stood for were important enough for them to overlook his bigotry.  Fair enough and they very well may be correct, time will tell.

Here’s what I can’t respect and what is killing me inside, denial.  My biggest frustration is to repeatedly hear that he is not a bigot.  He’s open about it, he does not try to hide his bigotry and doesn’t deny it so why are his supporters stating he isn’t?   That does NOT mean if you support Trump you are a bigot, it means if you see nothing wrong with his comments, not his political policies but his insults and discrimination, then you may want to look up the definition of a bigot.  That, is your choice, and no one can change your feelings about that but let’s be honest about it.  I have read some wonderful articles by people who voted for Trump explaining why they did and why the issues were important enough that they felt he was the best candidate.  I respect that because they also stated how his behavior and bigotry was unacceptable to them and they will not sit back and allow that to spread in our country.  Other people are very open and honest about agreeing with his bigotry and even though I don’t respect their bigotry, I respect their honesty.

I was naïve not to realize how many hate filled bigots still exist in our country and this is now being seen by the increase in hate crimes and discrimination.   Trump’s win is allowing them to be more vocal now.  Is it creating bigots?  Of course not, but it is allowing people to feel they don’t have to hide their feelings anymore because our leader isn’t.  We as Americans that value our civil rights can not allow this to happen, we need to work harder now to ensure those rights are not jeopardized and to enforce the law.  This can’t be done if people keep saying this isn’t happening, it is happening and we need to stop it.  Schools had to respond to this election like no other in history because it is the first time we have been faced with an openly bigoted President.  I believe we are a very strong nation where the majority of people are good and if we work together and stop the denial we can keep our country great.

 

This morning as I was driving, a woman in a crosswalk walked right out in front of my car without even pausing or turning her head to see if I was going to stop.  This happens all the time in our age of entitlement.  People no longer wait to ensure you actually see them and are slowing down before crossing.  In fact, I would say more than half of the time they don’t even look to see if there is a car coming. This has got to be one of the most foolish uses of the law that I have ever seen.  If I don’t stop I get a ticket, but you’re dead so… you win?  It almost makes you want to hit them doesn’t it?  Come on, be honest, it does just a little bit even though none of us actually would.

I always stop for pedestrians in a crosswalk when I see them, but I have to admit there have been many times that I don’t see them in time to stop. I find myself driving two miles per hour, white knuckled, with my hands positioned at 10:00 and 2:00 on the steering wheel, sitting so far forward in my seat that I’m making nose prints on the windshield, just to make sure I can anticipate the possible crossing of every person in a 5 mile radius.  What if I hadn’t seen this woman this morning?  What if I had been distracted by a sneezing attack?  What if my child had just thrown up in the car?  Unforeseen things happen that sometimes make us take our eyes off of the road for a second.  Do these people think because they have the right of way that the grill of my SUV might feel any softer if they were to bounce off of it?

I mean this in the nicest of ways, but if you can’t take 3 seconds out of your day to pause to see if the driver of the oncoming vehicle is actually applying pressure to their brakes, you are an idiot.  Just because the law is on your side doesn’t mean it’s worth risking your life to prove that point.  It’s also illegal to shoot someone but that doesn’t mean I’m going to march my butt around a gun range without looking.  If a car hits you, it can kill you, smarten up people.

 

 

Today I feel compelled to write a non-comedic blog so that I can vent my frustrations somewhere other than Facebook.  I try so hard not to say anything political on Facebook but I am feeling weak lately.  Fair warning, this is going to be Trump bashing (not anti-Republican or political) and off color so if that offends you, please stop reading now.   For the rest of you, here we go, commence rant.  First let me preface by saying I have thought Trump running for President was a joke since the beginning.  The second he became the Republican Nominee was a sure vote for Hillary in my eyes.  His recent comments didn’t change my opinion of him, they just cemented it in stone.

When I have voiced my disgust about Donald Trump’s recent comments about having his way with women because he is rich, I was told things like, “you’re a hypocrite” or “you say things just as bad as him” or “you use crude language” or “people in glass houses”.  Let me clarify something, I’M NOT RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT (I know I said I was and  promised free puppies in my last blog).  It doesn’t matter if I swear or use vulgar language because a) I’m not running for President, and b) I don’t touch people inappropriately – EVER.  Period, end of story, mic drop.

While I don’t particularly care for that word he used to describe a woman’s female parts, it is not the word that is the issue.  Why can’t people see this?  If he used the actual word, still just as bad.  If I walked down the street and called every passerby that word, it isn’t even on the same level as his comments.  “Good morning p***y”, “Any idea what time it is p***y?”, “Please hold the elevator p***y”.  Nope, still not even close. It doesn’t matter what word he used, he stated that because of his money he can kiss and grab women whenever he wants and they won’t do anything.  Hmmm, let me think for a second, I’m pretty sure that is… illegal?  Not to mention so freaking morally unethical is makes me sick.   Sick as a woman and as a mother of a female.

Now brace yourself because here it comes.  That word he used to describe where he can grab women, is exactly what any man is that uses any form of power to assault a woman.  Yup, I said it, he is the p***y (insert gasp here). While Hillary was not my first choice and has done many wrongs as well, she is not grabbing people in the no-no zone because she has money and power.  Now don’t even say Bill Clinton was worse because he, along with myself, ARE NOT RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT.

This has nothing to do with politics or issues, it has to do with character and supporting a person that not only abuses women but is teaching children it is alright to do so.  A vote for Trump shows children that they can abuse women, be a bully and a racist, and still become President.  That my friends, is much worse than anything Hillary can do.  I still think this entire race is a bad dream. I keep closing my eyes, clicking my heels together and saying “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home”.

 

After watching the last Presidential debate I realized, it’s time.  Time for me to swoop in like a super hero and save our country.  Time for me to let my past lewd comments about men come out and run for President of the United States.  POTUS Stephanie, I like it.  People are commenting all over the news and social media that they are planning on writing in a name on their ballot to show their disdain with the current candidates.  Well, why not have it be my name?  I’m pretty sure I couldn’t be any worse.  I would like to announce that I am officially running for President.

I might not know much about politics, or anything really, but that doesn’t seem to matter these days.  What I do know about politics is that a candidate can pretty much promise just about anything without any plan to back up those promises, and people will believe it if you sound convincing enough.  I can totally do that.  Empty promises are my specialty right after sarcasm.  I’ve already decided on my campaign slogan and have ordered the posters of me holding a puppy in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.  “Vote for me and get a free puppy.”   Everybody loves puppies and wine, therefore everybody will love me.

Being contacted for an interview to talk about my position on key issues was a little surprising.  I like puppies and wine, what else do you need to know?  Jeez.  However, my campaign manager suggested it would be a good idea and his wine suggestions never let me down, so I left the liquor store and met with the local media.  Here is the transcript from my interview with Boy Scout Troop 374:

“Mrs. Morrison, if you are elected President what will you do about genetically engineered food?”, “Well Jimmy, not only will I stop it, but I’m planning on taking all the calories out of food to solve our country’s obesity problem”.

“Mrs. Morrison, how do you plan on handling ISIS and terrorism in the US?”, “Jimmy, I have a plan that will end all terrorism and hate towards Americans but I can’t disclose that publicly because I don’t want them to know what’s coming.  I will only say this, it involves butterflies”.

“Mrs. Morrison, how do feel about the refugee crisis in Syria?”, “How does anyone feel Jimmy”.

“Mrs. Morrison, Donald Trump has promised to build a wall between the US and Mexico and require that Mexico pay for that wall, do you feel that is realistic?”, “Of course it isn’t realistic to assume Mexicans will agree to pay for a wall.  Walls are expensive and can be climbed.  My plan is not only cost effective but will solve all of our problems with illegals in our country, not just Mexicans.  I will require that everyone in the world wear an electric collar that will shock them upon entering our country”.

“Mrs. Morrison, how do you plan on lowering unemployment?”, “I am going to make sure that all of those electric collars are made in the USA which will add lots of jobs for Americans”.

“Mrs. Morrison, what is your plan for taxes?”, “Jimmy, under my presidency there will be no taxes. I plan on eliminating all taxes except the tax on cigarettes.”  “Wow, Mrs. Morrison, wouldn’t public services have to be cut or halted if that were to happen?”, “Of course they would but think of it this way, without firefighters or law enforcement, everything that catches on fire would just burn, right?  Then I have not only eliminated taxes but also found a solution to the water shortage our country is facing”.

“Now make sure your parents vote for me Jimmy and here’s a puppy”.

 

 

Back to school is always a very sad time for me as I really do enjoy having my children around as much as possible.  This doesn’t appear to be the norm, however. The first time I realized I was in the minority was at a Back To School Coffee at my children’s elementary school.  I was dressed in black (as I always do starting in early August when I slip into “back to school” mourning, thankfully it’s thinning), with a box of tissues in my hand choking on my own mucus when I noticed 12 empty Bailey’s bottles behind the Box of Joe on the table.  Once I was able to get my sobbing to a minimum, I felt like I was at an 80’s wedding with Celebration by Kool & The Gang playing on repeat over the Cafeteria speakers.

On the first day of school many parents won’t even stop the car to drop their children off.  They literally spend the last three weeks of summer teaching their children the drop and roll technique from a moving vehicle.  I, on the other hand, am that mom that’s clutching onto my child’s leg saying “please don’t go, mommy loves you”.  I even go so far as to put my picture in my child’s lunchbox, binder and underwear so they are always thinking of me.  I’ll admit, the underwear photo seems a little extreme, I’m working through this one with my therapist.

My youngest is going into Middle School this year and it’s really hard for me to come to terms with.  My sweet, little, freckle faced boy that still voluntarily holds my hand in public.  The wire ties have nothing to do with it, we just prefer it that way so stop judging.  If I had an intelligence level above the Second Grade I would probably have tried to home school my children.  Sadly, in our case it would be a reverse home schooling where my children are teaching me.  Seriously, whenever my 15 year old daughter asks “Mom, did you know…?”, I don’t even have to hear the question, the answer is always “No” unless of course the question will ever be “How to get your boyfriend out of Math class so you can walk the halls together?”  Then it’s a Yes!  For now I just hope my children’s classes are on the first floor so I don’t have a repeat falling incident like in 2010.

Isn’t it amazing how one little thing like your children going back to school can cause so much stress in your life.  You know it’s coming and have plenty of time to buy school supplies, but you don’t. I am one of those people who leaves all the “back to school” stuff until the very last minute and then when I actually decide to go shopping there is nothing left except folders with kittens on them and the cheap pencils that aren’t even Number 2 pencils.  I walked across the Target parking lot happy and smiling and it was like I walked through a force field upon entering the store.  All of a sudden I was twitching and talking to myself.  I even have a vague recollection of bumming a cigarette off of someone and I don’t even smoke.  It wasn’t until I was showed the video footage from the store security guard that I realized I had a full on panic attack when I was told there weren’t any Chromebooks in stock.  The police report states I took someone hostage in the candy aisle but we all know you can’t believe everything you read. However, the shopping experience is definitely high on the list of moments I am not proud of but I will say that I paid for all the alcohol and Ring Dings I consumed in the store.

My children, the little darlings that they are, took full advantage of the situation.  Once they saw me loading Velveeta Family Size Shells N Cheese and Frosted Animal Crackers into the carriage (this actually happened) and was mumbling with Doritos cheese on my face, they started asking for everything.  I was in this weird coma like trance and said yes to anything that was asked of me because I didn’t want to think about whether or not we needed it.  I’m pretty sure we walked out of the store with a 50″ plasma television and an Xbox along with the cheap pencils and page protectors.  “Mom, can I get….”, “Yes, just put it in the carriage and stop asking me questions!”

It really got out of control upon entering the sporting goods store next door.  We had one thing to get, one purpose, basketball sneakers.  Seemed easy enough until there were choices and sizes being out of stock.  Next thing I know I am buying multiple pairs of un-needed sneakers and equipment for sports that aren’t even this season.  I think I have a car full of brand new hockey gear and neither of my children play hockey.  I have no idea what I bought but the person behind me in line said thank you to me.  You’re welcome?  Maybe someday I’ll learn and actually plan ahead, it will save me a lot of time and money on lawyer fees.

 

 

 

Recently while out to dinner with friends, I had one of the most bizarre experiences I’ve ever had that couldn’t have had “blog” written on it any louder.  The struggle, however, was how to blog about something without offending the person that made it so blog worthy.  That damn nice side of me gets in the way sometimes.  Well, I can no longer contain myself, if you can’t laugh at yourself then you must laugh at others, right?  I’m pretty sure that’s the saying, at least in my world it is.  I’ll justify telling this story by thinking it’s my civic duty to bring laughter to the world.

So let me set the scene for you.  It was a beautiful summer evening and I was out to dinner with a bunch of women at a very nice Inn in a small vacation town in Maine.  There was a large table set up for us in the center of the dining room with families enjoying their dinners all around us.  While having drinks and waiting for our fish tacos and flatbreads to arrive, all of a sudden one of the women pulls a pair of underwear out of her bag.  Not just any pair of underwear mind you, but stick on underwear.  Yes, I said stick on underwear.  Not only was I completely baffled by the “stick on” aspect of the underwear but was flummoxed (love that word) as to why they were being passed around the table.  Had someone soiled themselves and asked if anyone had a spare pair?  Had this woman forgotten to put them on before leaving the house?

The situation made a little more sense upon finding out that this woman sells these undergarments and was showing her product to the group.  Not sure I agree that this was the right time and place, however, but to each his own.  I chose to leave my trench coat with Rolexes hanging inside at home. Let’s back up a minute though, stick on underwear????   What might I possibly wear that would require my underwear to stick on as opposed to having side straps?  I have a feeling if I ever were coordinated enough to get that band-aid stuck on in the right place, that thing would go missing until my next gynecological exam.  “Stephanie, I found your underwear”, “Oh thanks, I’ve been looking for that”.  Not to mention the home waxing that would take place upon removing such stuck on garment.  Ouch.  Maybe that’s a better marketing strategy for the product, wax while you work!

When I thought I had just about seen it all and was about to take a sip of my cucumber vodka and tonic, a silicone breast was placed in my hand.  Usually I have to buy someone a drink before that happens.  I jest, but in all seriousness, I did have a breast stick on cup bra kind of thing in my hand in the middle of a restaurant while about to sip my yuppie drink.  Ok, really?!?  Regardless of the fact that hurricane like damage would be caused if that little stick on thing were ever to let go after defying physics and holding these girls up, why am I holding a boob cup in a restaurant?  I’ve got underwear stuck on my head and now I have a boob in my hand. Sometimes you just can’t make this stuff up.

This morning I was reading the Huffington Post on-line and happened upon a story that not only made me do a double take, but I actually said “are you freaking kidding me” out loud.  Someone had not only done a study on pubic hair grooming but actually got it published on-line and felt it was newsworthy.  How can this possibly be considered research by someone?   Just when you think you have seen it all you realize that someone got paid to ask women about their pubic hair.  Not only that, but they must somehow consider themselves an expert in the field.  What qualifies someone as an expert in that field?  Do they go to school for it?  Do they hold a PHD from the Beaver Academy?

While I was shaking my head reading all of the statistics of how many whites and non-whites groomed, the part that really got me was that examples had to be given of not only how one might groom, but of what type of injury you may incur while self grooming.  Really?  First off, if you can’t figure out how to groom hair on your own, you may in fact be brain-dead and should see someone about that soon.  Also, do the specific types of injuries that you might incur have to be listed?  Did someone really think gunshot wounds and paper cuts might be on that list?  This article clarified so many things for me, thankfully because I may have tried using a potato peeler.  Phew, saved myself some embarrassment at the hospital with that one.

They also found it necessary to poll women’s ages to determine that younger women were more likely to groom themselves than older women.  Shocking, I would have guessed the 85-100 year olds would have been the highest grooming group.  It’s all the rage at nursing homes when it isn’t Bridge night.  The study also went on to list the top reasons why women groom.  I’ll save you the suspense, because there wasn’t anything on television was not one of the reasons.  Again, shocking.

I now realize there is a world of opportunity waiting for me that I never even dreamed of.  I can now add Researcher to my resume along side Blogger.  I can stand in front of Walmart with a clipboard and start asking people anything I want as long as Researcher follows my name on my laminated business card (remember, anything laminated is serious) and get my study published.  Let’s see, what shall I study?  Bellybutton lint, bum wiping strategies, there are so many topics just as ridiculous to study that I foresee a very busy future.

 

Happy Fourth of July!  Independence Day, the birth of our country, the day The United States of America was no longer a part of the British Empire.  A day celebrated by all Americans with cookouts, fireworks, parades, and the wearing of red white and blue attire.  One thing you don’t see on this day of freedom is a thank you to those that helped us become a free nation, those that fought in the American Revolution.  We really should incorporate a thank you into this day, don’t you think?  Since it is highly unlikely that any of those Patriots are still alive, how about thanking the ancestors of those brave men and women.  Hey, what a coincidence, that would be me!  What do you know?

Even though I am normally quite humble (insert laughter here) I will step up and take credit for my English ancestors that came to America with the hopes of creating a new nation.  Someone has to do it, right?  I mean come on, the name passed all the way down to me, that has to be worth something.  I think us “pure bloods” need to have papers or a laminated card (laminated anything means business) showing that we are ancestors of our founding fathers and deserve at least a free ice cream on this day.  Shouldn’t we be seeing signs on restaurants “Free Meal to Ancestors”  or “Free Car Wash to Ancestors”, maybe “Free Big Gulp at the 7 Eleven”, something to give a little credit to those that fought for us.

Maybe we could have an ancestor’s group that helps in the decision-making process of the country.  A panel that sits and decides which new citizens are allowed into the country.  I’m sorry sir, you are wearing socks with sandals, try Canada.   Ma’am, even though you seem like a very nice woman, we just don’t wear white before Memorial Day in this country.  You can follow that gentleman to Canada.  Next.  Sir, you are going to have to wait a few minutes, I need to run out and grab my free Big Gulp, I suggest you get a haircut before I return.  I’m going to get a petition started and try to get this up and running before next year.  In the meantime, you’re welcome.

 

Let me preface this blog by stating how much I love animals, pretty much all animals.  Not in a cat lady type of way, just that I am that person that will slam on the brakes and cause a 20 car pile-up to let a chipmunk cross the street.  On occasion I admit I find myself saying hello to birds, rabbits, seals or whatever else I come across, but it never morphs into anything close to a Dr. Doolittle situation.  Lately, however, I’m starting to notice there is something not quite right with my “relationship” with squirrels.  Not the normal grey squirrel I find at home that I can bounce bread off of while feeding the birds and not have it even flinch, but the mutant chipmunk looking squirrels in Maine.

These odd little mutant gatherers of nuts seem to have it out for me.  That or they want to make me their queen, I haven’t figured out which.  Maybe singing Rob Base’s “I’m just a squirrel trying to get a nut to move your butt to the dance floor” is having a Pied Piper type effect on these little creatures.  Whatever it may be, these furry rodents keep appearing and not just in trees where you often see them.  They stare me down whenever I am outside and squawk at me and I can only imagine what they are saying in their squirrel language.  I swear I saw one of them give me the little squirrel finger the other day, but they only have four fingers so I can’t really be sure.

You know in the movie The Godfather when a man finds a horse head in his bed?  In the midst of all this squirrel oddness, how can I not think that coming across mounted squirrel butts in not one, but two stores, is not a similar sign of warning of some sorts?

Who the heck mounts squirrel butts to wood?  I know some people will do whatever they can to get a piece of ass, but come on.

Shortly after my experience of being up close and personal with the backside of a squirrel, I was sitting in bed one morning and looked up into the eyes of a squirrel staring at me from atop a cabinet.  While it sat and waved at me not one of my three, yes three, hunting dogs noticed as they sat with me on the bed.  Don’t you just find that a little odd?  I was the only one in my family that saw the squirrel and I’m pretty sure it wanted it that way.

You might think all of this is just a coincidence right?  Yeah, well then explain why this happened shortly after.

In case you are confused by that picture, it is a squirrel stuck in my dryer vent.  Of course it is because that happens every day.  Until I can figure out why all of this keeps happening to me, I am no longer wearing my acorn necklace.