Sunday, September 30, 2012

Vaginas for Jesus and other Dennyisms

We've officially entered birthday season in my family. My brother tried to kick things off with a birthday at the end of July, but it didn't stick. The rest of us fall between the end of September and late November. This past weekend we found ourselves gathered together to celebrate a few of those memorable occasions. I'll start this by saying a big happy birthday to my baby sister, Jeana, my sister in law Christina, my brother in law Denny, and my wonderful mother.

It was predicted to be the party to end all parties (drinking until you begged God to just kill you). I headed home to Iowa to hold my sister's hair so she could vomit after too much while celebrating for her 30th. The day began with shopping for shoes without heels, because we'd worn heels and decided that the lengthy day would be best served in flat shoes. I am not capable of buying shoes without a heel. I looked and looked, but couldn't find a damn thing. Instead, I fell in love with these. I thought, what better shoe to have when you need to really dig into the ice? Warm, gives the ass a nice lift, and check out the soles on those babies. Hot! 

After deciding that very few people in my group would appreciate the beauty of these weapons hiking boots, I left them on the rack and proceeded to make my way with the girls down the strip mall to the various stores. 

The rest of the day proceeded as planned. Shopping was accomplished, drinks and snacks were consumed, and our feet were properly pedicured. By the time we finished with our family and friends dinner at Red Lobster, it was clear that the birthday girl would be having none of the party she had planned. The last great quote of the night was, "Julie, if you want to bar hop on the way back you can, but I'm staying in the truck." Alas, a bit of partying the night before had rendered our birthday girl down for the count before 8 PM. Turning 30 is a cruel joke. You still look young, but your recovery is much slower. 

There is still fun to be had though! From the folks that brought you "He laid his wiener on it" I give you the Dennyisms of the weekend and other fun stuff. 

Vaginas for Jesus- My mother is a proud member of the First United Methodist Women of Southwest Iowa (long name, eh). My brother in law has decided the name of the group should be shortened and changed to Vaginas for Jesus. We are waiting to see if Mom will call for a vote to change the name at their next meeting. 

Angie's G-Spot- I drive a G6. I cannot imagine how this came up in conversation, but apparently before I got to town Denny made a comment about how I drive a G-spot. For the record, if my G-spot were big, gray, and had 4 wheels it would be a hell of a lot easier to find. 

New Smooth Spot- Three times over the weekend my attention was called to a very small strip of highway between my parent's house and town. When you come from a small rural community words like "our new strip of smooth road" and "the new smooth spot" are immediately identifiable. Apparently, it's very exciting when the county lays down $85K worth of smooth black top on the road. I would like to know what it will take for them to fix the rest of the freakin' hi-way. 

Council-Tucky- Let me preface this with the fact that I don't know many, if any, people who are actually FROM Kentucky. I'm sure they are wonderful people, but the mention of the state itself brings to mind images of hill-folk with missing teeth and a fierce love of Nascar. The place we did our shopping is lovingly (ahem) referred to as Council-Tucky. You are 10x more likely to run into a person wearing a Nascar shirt and missing teeth as you are to run into someone like my people. We tend to look like a cross between LA and the Jersey Shore (my sister carries a giant can of aerosol hairspray just in case). We wear the latest fashions, and many of us wear heels even when the weather isn't appropriate. There are times when it would certainly be wiser to dress like a Counciltuckian. 

That's about all I have for the weekend recap. I'll be over at Sprocketink tomorrow, so come and check it out and see what fun we have over there! 

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Come On Over!

Today I'm covering up my Uncovered self and heading on over to SprocketInk to talk about giving a shit. Do you? Could you? Would you? Let's find out.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Office Tips for Newbs

Welcome to the office, Newbs! Its fall, which means all of those high school and college grads are flowing into the workplace. It's understandable that not everyone grasps the rules of office employment. Below is a list of very important tips for those who are entering the office life for the first time, or even for those who have worked there for a while now and don't understand why they haven't received that promotion they've been aiming for. You may wish to print this and hand it out at meetings. 

1. Hickeys are not an accessory.
Remember back in high school when your parents offered your boyfriend/girlfriend extra food so they would stop chewing on your neck? Hickeys were stupid and looked disgusting then. They are completely unprofessional and revolting now. Have some class. This is the real world where your future is influenced by the people you meet on the way up. You look like a whore. There are a few positions in your future, but I doubt any of them are corporate.

2. Dress like a grown up.
This is an office, not a fitness club. No yoga pants. Maybe they are black or dark grey, but they are not slacks/dress pants. We don't allow men to come in in black sweat pants. You are not allowed to wear yoga pants on business casual days. Also, there is NO day when we should be able to see your under garments. White under white is almost as bad as black/red/blue under white. Your underwear playing peek-a-boo with the top of your pants isn't acceptable either. Learn to dress.

3. You can afford to contribute to the pot luck.
"It's so expensive to feed a crowd!" Yeah yeah. I see you with the Jimmy Johns every day. We're asking you to make a salad or an appetizer. You don't need to roast a pig for us. We have pot luck professionals that will out do any grand attempt you make. Stop whining about the cost and make a jello mold or something, ya lazy ass.

4. If you don't bring anything for the pot luck, you don't eat.
Everyone forgets sometimes. If you're a chronic offender, everyone knows your name. Don't be a lazy mooch. Also, we have paper plates and plastic silverware. No one here is worried about that. We provide those things out of the main budget. You're bringing something we already have. Lame.

5. Your broken heart isn't an excuse to call off.
Broken hearts blow. There's no easy fix. Do you know what I recommend? Going to work. What are you going to do at home? You'll sit there and cry. Then you'll eat junk food in some misguided attempt to fill the void that your lover has left. Then you'll get fat and be sadder. Eventually, that will increase your illnesses and likely your use of our insurance plan. That raises everyone's rates. Then we like you less. Don't make us like you less.

6. You won't be here. We don't care why.
Just stop talking. We get it already. If you have a valid excuse (death, illness, etc) we simply need the very short version. The more you talk the more we are irritated that your absence is going to screw with everyone's schedule and deadline.

7. Children should be seen and not heard.
We don't mind you putting up pics of your kids. We do, however, get sick of hearing about them. Don't blather on. If you want to do that shit, get a blog.

8. The bathroom is not your personal phone booth. 
If I had a dollar for every time I have walked into the ladies room and straight into a verbal confrontation between some lady and her man I would have enough to get two pumpkin spice lattes. It doesn't sound like a lot, but have you been to Starbucks lately? Take that business to the car on your break.

9. Save the pretty fonts and colors. 
In the name of all that is good and holy. I received an email today from a staffer that had 3 colors and the most God awful curly handwriting font in the signature. The body of the email was done in hot pink. If you expect me to take your request for my toilet paper, hand towels, soap, copies, or insurance paper work seriously you will use either black or dark blue on a white background in a plain font. I don't want something that looks like it was written in crayon by someone who just learned how to write in cursive. Often these emails have to be escalated. Remember that.

10. Above all, don't be the reason for new rules. 
Many offices begin their lives with very lenient policies. There is a hope that since adults are being hired that adult behavior will be adhered to. When you notice there is a lax policy on attendance, dress code, time usage, etc... try to follow the rules of common courtesy. We don't have a lot of rules. We create them as they become necessary. If you're the reason for the rule, you will find yourself very unpopular.

I hope these tips will help you become well liked in your current work place. If you obey all of these rules and people still don't like you, it might be you. 

Monday, September 24, 2012

Apple Fights Other Well Rounded Rectangles

Image Source
Good morning, kids! I hope you all made it through the weekend without scrambling for bail money. In the event that you showed up here for some sort of weekend run down, you're going to have to wait until tomorrow. Today I'm over at SprocketInk talking about how Apple Corners the Market On Rectangularity.

Go. Read. Learn something. Laugh a little. You deserve it. Heck you've probably been awake 2 hours already. It's break time!

Thursday, September 20, 2012

The Crazy Factor

I'm an out of sight out of mind type girl. I forgot about the living room in my own home for 2 weeks straight because I didn't walk through it or use it. I do, however, obsess about the things I can see. Take my phone for example. I check that far more than I should. If we dated in the past you can pretty much guarantee that your number is no longer in my phone. It's not that we're not friends. It's not that I don't want to talk to you. I just don't need the temptation when I see your name. If you've wondered why you haven't heard from me in awhile, now you know.

I  never wanted to be THAT girl... until I learned the truth about being crazy, that is. I did some real life research and talked to a few Tweeters and it seems many men really like that crazy factor.

My daily life guy friends (3H) expressed that they expect a certain level of crazy with every woman. Stereotype much? I digress. They also agreed that the hotter the girl is, the more insanity they can expect. While I'm not sure when this pattern was set for them, the three that I speak with most frequently all seem to agree that the crazier she is the better she will be in bed. (Screeching halt) "Whatever. You're full of it." I said. Then I saw this on Twitter:

This explains so much! 

Apparently Kim knows. It is an established fact. It's even on the internet. #MustBeFact 

This does explain a lot about those guys who will continually chase after a hot girl that turns them on, turns them down, pulls them in, and then pushes them away. It seems like if she's even slightly unhinged, her crazy factor will elevate her another rung on the ladder. As I write this, I've just been informed by one of the 3H that the tweet above IS accurate. One of the H team said, "If she will stab someone with a fork you really have to see what she'll do in bed."

I do hope there will be a few men out there that can tell me this is not true, or at the very least give an explanation as to what it is that they find attractive about the headcase drama. For the guys who follow this way of thinking, how long do you usually put up with it?

Talking to my girlfriends gave a much different response. I asked, "Is the sex ever so good that you would put up with emotional abuse?"

Right on girl! 

So what exactly does make a woman put up with crazy? Love and/or low self-esteem seems to be the most common answer. I've dated my fair share of men who played head games. The more distance I put between myself and those times in my life, the harder it is for me to determine if it was love or low self-esteem, but it was probably a combination of things. I'm not alone in that either:

True that, homeslice! 
Then there's the theory that behind every crazy woman out there is a man who made her that way...

Been there. 
It has taken me many years and many mistakes to get to where I am today. My choices in who I will date have improved by leaps and bounds. These days, I am more inclined to follow Jewels' advice than to put up with the head games, no matter how good it promises to feel for a few minutes.

Well said! 

Have you ever dated or stayed with someone that played head games just because the sex was good? Where is your line in the sand? 

Monday, September 17, 2012

It's not my job!

Daily Disclaimer: Today was supposed to be my post on the Crazy-Hot scale, but I'm putting that off until the end of the week so I can do a little more research and adjust my settings to Scary Sexy. Instead, I am going to address something that has been on my mind the past few days because if I don't say something in a big way, I might explode in rage. :) 

My boss sometimes refers to me as his assistant. One of the client managers occasionally calls me the office manager. My actual job title, according to my business card, is Program Support Manager. I do daily reports to identify productivity and disposition reports for our sales and customer service teams. From time to time I do office shopping and order supplies. Also, I bring joy to everyone I meet. I do, dammit! 

Friday a fellow female employee came to my desk to inform me that there was a spider the size of a house in the ladies room. I quickly dispelled any notion that my job responsibilities included spider extermination and advised her to either kill it herself or, failing that, find another co-worker willing to participate in her murderous plans. Delegate. That's how I roll. The bathrooms are stocked with paper towels, liquid soaps, toilet tissue, and my favorite, Bed Head aerosol hairspray. Nothing stops a spider faster than freeze spray. I felt no need to educate these women on the many ways to stop a speeding spider. Live and learn girls.

Probably like this, but I wouldn't know because it's not my damned job. 

Feeling I had safely side stepped the spider task, I went about the business of doing my reports and watching the clock to see, to the exact minute, how much longer I had left in my day. Sometime around 2 PM I was interrupted by yet another fellow breasted employee. "Tara said to let you know that something needs to be cleaned in the second stall." In this case I had no one to delegate to.

The supply closet at work is filled with all sorts of chemicals and paper products we don't want open for all staff. You never know when someone might start supplementing their bonus with Angel Soft toilet paper, ya know? Plus, we buy Bounty and Clorox and other name brand items. Those are really attractive products to steal. As a result, this room is locked and off limits. Obviously if we cannot trust people to keep their mitts off the toilet paper we definitely cannot give them access to the chemicals. What if they went on a cleaning rampage and eliminated all dirt from the facility?!

The key code is known to management only. We're such elitists. I am often charged with handling all requests for bathroom supplies when the ladies room is out of something. It's annoying, but that's what happens when you're in a high ranking position. People WILL want your toilet paper. It's only natural. While Sarah manages the Denver office single-handedly, I dare say she doesn't want to come back and share this responsibility.

I stood up, rolled my eyes, and let out a very long and pointed sigh. For the life of me I cannot figure out how women can have such nasty toilet habits. When you walk into a shared toilet do you not look before you sit down? When you're finished do you not turn around to make sure that things went down when you flushed? It's common courtesy, dammit! If you noticed that you somehow managed to urinate on the seat (yes, I know... WTF?) do you not wipe it off?

I made my way to the supply closet to get disposable gloves and bathroom cleaner, all the while making my displeasure known on the way through the office. "I swear to God if people cannot learn to clean up after themselves in the bathroom, they should be fired. How did they make it this far in life? I'm going to shoot someone. Maybe me." Of course I followed this rant with a smile and skipped the rest of the way to the ladies room and swung the door open, ready to eliminate the filth in question.

This has happened before. Someone will get pee on the seat, a skidder in the bowl, or even a smudge on the seat. Don't ask me how. I don't even want to imagine it. I was disgusted, but prepared. Unfortunately there is no way to prepare for the shock I received when I pulled open the door to the back stall.

Trust me, you don't wanna see this.*

How in the hell did someone crap on the OUTSIDE of the toilet? Seriously?! I can't accuse anyone specifically for this offense. Obviously we don't have cameras as that would be highly illegal. At first I thought, "How short does a person need to be in order to DO that?" and then as I approached the toilet with my gloves on and foaming cleaner at arm's length, I noticed the smear marks. I also noticed the rest of the toilet is pristine. I don't think anyone had an "accident". I think someone had an "on purpose". My question now is, "How crazy do you have to be to do something like this?"

Do you think it's because I refused to kill the spider?

*I do have photographic evidence and did make 2 co-workers view this disaster so that next time my boss asks what the hell I do around here I can say, "Let me show you the shit I have to put up with!"

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Three Reasons She Said No

Disclaimer: I will state for the record that I am pretty much the biggest offender of everything I preach against. Physician, heal thyself. I know. I know. That's what I do in my spare time... between kids, home, work, lady lunches, and blog... oh and Twitter, Facebook, email, and text messages... I work on not being a dork. So far, I'm a lot better than I was 2 years ago when I started this process. Let's not get into what I use as a measuring stick, mmmkay. I'm just better than I was(said for my family... well the one that reads this).

When it comes to long term friends, women have a higher count in my book. I have quite a few guy friends too, but men usually have a shelf life of however long it takes them to get a girlfriend. Many women are just not comfortable with their men having females as besties. It's always a bummer to lose one, but it's given me a chance to look inside quite a few of the minds of men I am friends with.

Break ups are sad, and while women often get painted with the "hot mess" label when it comes to emotions, it's important to note that men have those feelings as well. Today I'm going to reveal the top three things newly single guys do (permission granted by a few of my awesome male friends/readers) that keep them from picking up that hottie they are trying to bed. Ready?

1. Sensitivity. 
Okay, I know you've been hearing this crap about women wanting sensitive guys. It's completely out of context. You heard sensitive and thought "female". You're wrong. Still don't want to see you cry unless you lost a limb, and even then... could you swear while you do it? Sensitive about pets? Your kids? Your Nana who raised you that just died? Got it. Still don't want to see you crying any more than you want to see US crying. Sad movie/TV show? At least have the decency to lie about there being something in your eye. We won't believe you, but it makes us laugh and forget that we saw you crying.

2. Lost Love. 
We don't want to hear it. Really. Women are taught at an early age to shut the hell up about our issues when we're with a new guy. Do you know what happens to women who pull this crap? Hump and dump. Who wants to be with someone that's obviously still hung up on their ex? This is pre-relationship discussion, not pre-date discussion. You didn't like finding out your ex was sleeping with someone else. Now imagine how your potential date feels. She probably doesn't want to hear about it either.

Side note: One of my less than eloquent guys informed me that when a girl tells him about the slut her ex screwed around with, he immediately stops listening and starts to wonder what the other chick looked like.

3. Still In a Relationship. 
So you're separated, huh? That sucks and I know it hurts. (virtual hugs) Been there. It's painful. Sometimes you just want someone to hold you and tell you it's okay. Sometimes you just want to curl up in a ball and cry and... If you tell a woman you're separated and can't figure out why she doesn't want to go out with you, let me clue you in. We worry that you're going to go back. It's a liability. Combine this separated/recently divorced situation with #1 or #2 and you're immediately put on the list of guy friends we won't date and quite possibly watch for self-harming tendencies.

Women do all of these things. Believe me, the things I've heard from the guys is enough to make me physically shudder. I've heard things that made me look inside and mentally slap myself for past faux pas. It also made me realize that we're a lot more alike than we want to believe. No one wants a crier. No one wants to be with someone who is in love with someone else. No one seeking a relationship wants to be the rebound/gap fill.

Finally, we've all heard the "Nice guys finish last" gripe. Nice guys around the world have been saying it forever. Trust me, the nice girls out there are thinking the same thing. Every time we see a nice guy walking off into the sunset with a girl who is leading him by his 'nose', whilst slapping him down, ridiculing him, and making him feel like he's lucky she even bothered to collar him... we die a little inside. Know your value. It's sexy.

Parting note: Guys, for more tips on being newly single, head on over to It Was Dark, Stormy, and I Lost My Serial Comma for tips from one of your own. Take a razor. You're going to need it.

Up Next: Where is your line in the sand? How much "crazy" are you willing to put up with for a great physical attraction? Email me!  (mostly because I want to know how insane I'm actually allowed to be before it's too much)

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

The Nutrisystem Dating Plan

The acid burned my esophagus and I recognized that familiar feeling of nausea as my mouth began to water and my head started to spin. Mentally, I noted that it was probably lunch time, and checked the monitor clock to find that it was 11:30. The angry conversation that my stomach was attempting to have with me served to further confirm the fact.

"Oh shut up." I said aloud, to myself, once again using the wrong inside voice.  

Realizing I had once again forgotten to bring lunch, and being too uninspired to even choose a fast food restaurant to satisfy my needs, I made my way to the break room and opened the Nutrisystem cabinet. In an attempt to jump on the "nutritionally balanced" wagon, our boss had signed up for the Nutrisystem food delivery program the year before, and much of the system still existed in the office kitchen. I browsed the selections and pulled the BBQ Beef and Beans with Rice from the shelf. 

The picture on the site shows what the meal was supposed to look like. It in no way resembled the item inside the microwave package. Not even close, actually. I will tell you this much; I discovered the secret to Nutrisystem weight loss. When you feel like your throat has been cut, have no desire to think, and even less desire to eat... it tastes pretty good. What made it even better was that I had absolutely zero expectations of it having flavor.

That's how it's been lately. I eat because it's time. Food doesn't have much flavor. Nothing is exciting. I've been in a bit of a funk and it's tying my stomach in knots. It just doesn't seem worth the effort. I'm pretty sure it's related to penises and those who own them. I can say that right? Sure I can. It's my blog and I'll say what I want, dammit.

Rather than dwell on the lack of understanding I have for the opposite sex, I've decided to apply this diet theory to dating. Is there such a thing as zero expectation dating? It's sort of like food isn't it? Even when you aren't sure about the flavor, you hope it will at least be hot. Right? No? Maybe I'm spending too much time with my guy friends.

Speaking of which, tomorrow or the next day or Saturday or, I'm going to address a situation a few of my male readers have broached with me on the sidelines. Men, breakups, and getting back in the saddle... or in this case, getting someone back on the saddle. Stay tuned. I'll probably be ostracized by both my guy friends and my girl friends. Should be fun! 

Friday, September 7, 2012

Friday Confessional

At first I thought maybe I'd find Narnia in here, but no... 
In an effort to prevent any man from ever wanting to have a long term relationship with me, much less take me on a date where sex isn't expected at the end of the night, I decided to start this blog. It's a little late in the game to be going back and deleting all of the posts where I come across as less than ideal. Deleting this whole tawdry mess would probably be the easiest route, but I would likely just start another one the next time I felt like I needed to get something off my chest aside from a bra. Because let's be realistic, if I blogged every time I took off my bra you'd be reading a hell of a lot more than this and I'd get even less done. Why mess up a relatively good thing? I mean it's good for me? Is it good for you? Lie to me if you need to.

In keeping with the true purpose of this place, I feel it's time for a little Friday confessional. For any of you considering getting to know me outside of this blog, you might want to listen up.  

1. Best Friends- I have a few. They are compartmentalized to certain parts of my life. Most of them won't be shocking to you. One of them will. He's a guy. He's hot. We've seen each other naked. We managed to not hold it against each other... literally, and I'll expect the same from you. 

2. Fuckeduppedness- Ask me how I am and I'll say I'm okay. It's a complete lie. I'm either good or not. When I'm not good I'm a hot mess of "what in the hell happened to her?" (sorry, Mom... I've been extra sweary lately, I know) Most of the time I can smile through it until I make things right with myself or whatever evil piece of crap curve ball I feel life has undeservedly thrown over my plate. When I can't I am probably going to cry. I won't do it in front of you and when I come out of whatever damned hiding place I sneaked off to, a hug is fine, a joke is better. 

3. Money- I don't have any. I have a relatively low paying job and a relatively low paying side job. No one here clicks enough links to do more than pay off my domain registration. It would be unwise of you to expect me to support you in any monetary fashion. Call it poor planning, call it a shitty economy, but don't call me for cash.

4. Politics- I hate it. I hate hearing about it. I hate reading about it. I hate talking about it (except with one person). Don't tell me how you feel about your candidate, because I don't care. I won't tell you about mine. We'll be happier that way. I offered to sell my vote in the last election to my ex if he would just shut the hell up. He didn't, and look where THAT got him. 

5. Skeletons- We all have those don't we? They keep us from becoming a skin bag on the floor. I've never killed anyone so I don't have any extras hanging in a closet somewhere and I most certainly expect the same of my potential suitors. Baggage is a different story.

6. Baggage- OOOOOOOOOOH Lord. I have some. You probably do too. A matching set might be nice. Mine is black with a telescoping travel handle and wheels. What's yours like? How often do you take it out? I unpack mine from time to time just to see what's left inside, and then I put things back in it that I don't want to look at and put it in the closet. You can look in there if you want to, but I can't be responsible for what you find.

7. Passport- If you don't have one you might want to get one. I am usually on the verge of abandoning all hope and fleeing the country. It would be super cool to find someone to go with me. Are you from some cool country I'd like to live in? Double points for that.

For more revealing information, you can read my letter, To My Future Husband... it's full of sex, lies, and chocolate. Sorry about what I said about your mother. I'm sure she's wonderful.

Now get on out there and enjoy your weekend! I am told the weather will be beautiful!

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

I'm THAT Old

It's come to my attention that I'm getting older. No, not because of wrinkles. I have creams for that. It's not even because of the grey hairs. There's a wheel-o-color at any given salon to hide that. Maybe you think it's because my kids are closer to out of the house than they are in the house, but you're wrong.

There was a time when I was all, "$%^# the man! Parents are a drag, yo!" (I like to mix my generational slang). Until today, that is. Okay, maybe that part ended when I became a parent, but I didn't really feel it in my soul until today. Fine, I stopped hating parents quite a long time ago. That's when I started hating kids. Not my own. Sure from time to time I didn't like my kids, but I never hated them. Why are you judging me? We're getting off track here.

This afternoon, as I sat in my ivory tower of motherhood (that's what I call my bedroom), bitching silently about how the kids suck up all the bandwidth with their bazillion (which I think is like a Brazilian with more hair) wireless gadgets and Xbox-y type things, I overheard something that made my blood boil. When it comes to eavesdropping on my kids I'm usually pretty amused. They regularly say stupid things that make me giggle or bring back memories of a time when I was also stupid. Today was not that day.

My son's friend, who happened to be assisting in the sucking up of bandwidth, was on the phone with his mother. The poor asshole child had tried to call her TWO TIMES already in the last FIVE MINUTES to ask her what time he needed to be home for dinner. When she finally answered the third time he was a bit angry. Angry enough to snap at her and say, "What are you doing?! I have been trying to call! You got off work 10 minutes ago! Well, what do you THINK I was calling for? When do you want me home for dinner.. GOD!"

It took all I had, plus the weight of this laptop to keep me from slapping the shit out of him. Instead of risking jail for beating a minor, I leveled him with an icy stare and said, "You will either speak to your mother with respect or get out of my house." The look on his face was one of instant "holy shit-ness" as he realized that I actually meant what I said. Needless to say, after the few tense minutes that followed, there was a bit more Xbox and then a brief, "Jacob, can you give me a ride home?"

More and more often I hear kids back talking their parents and the parents blowing it off. I'm all for a little good-natured sarcasm, but this trend toward kids speaking to their parents as if they rule the roost has really started to piss me off. More than the back talk, I am sick of parents shrugging it off and smiling through it with an "Ah, kids. What can you do?" look. Do you know what you can do? Stop letting it happen. Stop letting it happen at home and it will be a lot easier to stop it from happening in public. Just stop it. Now.

I've learned over time that no matter how naughty most kids are at home, they are a hell of a lot nicer to other people. They know what their parents will tolerate by learning from experience. My son's friend is, aside from being an ass today, not disrespectful to me. He knows what I expect of my own kids and wouldn't dream of losing the privilege of eating all of our food and hogging all my internet by being a jerk to me. Chances are he won't be here tomorrow when I get home, but I bet he's back the next day. I would also place a bet that he won't ever speak to his mother like that in front of me again. Brat.

I guess what I'm trying to say is this, holy shit I've gotten old.
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