I quit voting. The pool of possible candidates sucks. On both sides of the aisle.
And does it even matter? Whoever we elect will be faced with political gridlock and none of their promises will come true. Unless he /she over rides them and then half the country gets pissed.
Why in Gods name would anyone want this job? Who’s circle am I going to fill in in November?
I miss being excited about the potential of an improvement in our country based on how I voted.
I’d rather vote for my nonexistent cat than anyone currently running.
Maybe I’ll write in someone who has “suspended their campaign”. Maybe I’ll vote for:
Never gets old….well maybe it’s getting closer to getting old…but I’m not done yet.
Her et al.iens….
Rush, rush. Such is life. Today was no exception.
It took me one hour for a 45 minute round trip drive to dance. Plus Sissy et al. lost her jazz shoes at a dance competition Saturday, so I had to get her fitted for a new pair. I budgeted 10 seconds for this task. Sounds about right.
How does one lose a part of their wardrobe through the course of the day? Seriously? How do you not notice you’re barefoot?
But I digress. Today’s timeline:
4:45-sissy et al. to dance
4:46-buy sissy et al. new jazz shoes, Capezio, Carmel, slip on
4:47:30-be at home to meet with realtor. (Potentially slight exaggeration to my timeline….let that be known)
So, what’s a gal to do when she’s running late? In rush hour?
Well if you’re anything like me, you stop to take a fracking picture.
Just hanging out on the side of the road. Eating shit off the ground…the deer were eating shit off the ground, not I.
Because at exactly 4:47:29-Her et al. morphed into a famous, high end, artistic, nature photographer.
Me, myself, and my outdated iPhone…..and two unexpecting deer.
(Note to my readers. At this exact moment, I lost the ability to pronounce ‘musician’ in a non blog convo which made me laugh until I nearly peed. Also, I needed to use spell check on musician.)
Where was I? Ah, yes. Deer. Now before you all bombard me with prices for prints and autographs, allow me to post my beautiful work piece, entitled “Oh Deer.”
The inspiration for this piece is deer (obviously), but I also think it coveys the societal need to just slow down. Smell the roses. Take a picture of the phucking deer.
#1-I see two bodies and one head. I must confess that I do remember seeing two bodies when I took the pic. But I cannot say, without reasonable doubt, that there were two heads.
I assume the head goes with the body on the right and ass in the back is eating and was hidden behind the front deer. But I’m not totally writing off the possibility of a headless deer. And we’ll just leave it at that.
#2-Scroll back up and look at its face and then meet me back down here when you’re done.
Since when did deer have faces that looks like a 5 year old drew it? Mind you, that’s unedited pals, his mug is just straight up circles.
I can picture God, (now, I’m sure he was tired from creating…everything,) “Eh, geez….deer, um, lets just put three circles inside one big circle for this one and let’s move on. Bam.” Maybe that’s the reason for the headless deer. Who know?
Comment if you’re interested in your own “Oh Deer.” SIGNED print! I’ll warn the printer!
***Disclaimer~Advice here should never be followed! Not on your child, someone else’s child, or even your dogs underbelly.****
A personal goal of mine is to one day bring one of my kids to any full hair/makeup dress rehearsal just once and NOT be told, “Um..close. But she’s going to need like ten times more than what you’ve presented us with today, asshat.”–I added the last word since I can only assume its inferred.
Advice #1-When your see the words “heavy street makeup” in your cast paperwork, they’re looking for prostitot. Heres a description of what prostitot looks like to normal moms.
Remember when you were in college and you would “pre-drink” in the dorms while getting ready to go out to save money but it then results in a drunk version of you attempting the smokey but instead getting the smokey eyes/eyebrows/nose parts next to eyes, plus a hooker red lipstick mustache?
And then you’d wake up the next day in some rando’s place, so you run to the bathroom to collect your thoughts, either crap your brains out and/or vomit, and prepare for the walk of shame? That hideous creature staring back at you in the dirty mirror, is the look you’re going for on your beautiful baby.
So put down the fancy fine tipped, felt applicator eyeliner and grab your old worn out, 6 year old, unsharpened eye liner pencil and heat that bad boy up with a lighter. Now, hold the pencil on your child’s eyelid and instead of carefully drawing across, just have your child shake their head ‘no’ four or five times per eye.
It should look like this:
Advice #2-50 shades of hooker red lipstick. Start you collection now. You’ll find these popular shades in the clearance bin of your local Walgreens. You’ll likely have to arm wrestle a crack whore for the last tube, so start working out now. Look for “less expensive” brands like Wet n Wild.
Dont use a lip liner. Allow the lipstick to bleed onto the skin surrounding the lips. Now, if your child is under the age of ten, don’t forget to send the tube with her backstage, to let her reapply as she sees fit (which, coincidently, is nonstop). It should look something like this by time she takes the stage:
My kids have awesome dental health (probably better than everyone else’s kids😚), but natural, unwhitened teeth look highlighter yellow next to bright red lipstick. Apparently dance teachers are color blind because 100 out of 95 dance teachers ask for “bright red lipstick” (should be read ‘hooker red lipstick’)
If you don’t have ten minutes to devote to removing the enamel from their teeth, just use whitener. Now, when I tell you to use whitener, I mean never do that to your kids. It seriously like dissolves baby teeth and even I am too moral to do that to my kids.
Advice #4-All jewelry needs to be so large, it can be seen from space….or twice the size of the child’s head. Apparently the idea is to distract the judges with their earrings so they won’t notice their sickled feet (watched all seasons of Dance Moms and I still have no idea what that means). Basically you want people to ask themselves, “did this kid just rob a Cartier’s?” And hopefully the answer is “NO”….but dance is expensive so you do you.
You’re going to need the equivalent of 35 carets in one solid ‘stone’ (read as ‘plastic’). Many times, all the girls will have to buy their earrings from the same place so that one girls plastic is not bigger than another girls plastic.
They should look something like this:
(Oh hey, my kid just put one of my slippers in the toilet….so that’s fun)
Advice #5-Hair. This is, by far, the worst part of dance. If the prospect of being told to do one of these hairstyles on your child doesn’t make you want to vomit….:
……..Well then, I hate you. I don’t know what it is about competitions that makes these hairstyles acceptable. It’s takes me an hour to make a bun WITH a bun maker! You’ve seen her hair in class, does it look like I can create snakes coming out of her head!? Not unless I can superglue you snakes to head and at this point, I’d do it.
So I’ve developed a protocol to deal with this sadistic practice. Show up to call 20 mins late, hair not done. Sounds bat shit crazy, huh? Well it is. But once the director lays eyes on your unready’d kiddo, she’s going to pass stool in her britches and then do it herself.
Now, this will only work once before she likely kicks your kid off company. But consider that possibly for a moment….wouldn’t all that free time and extra money be ni…..Shake it off Her et al.!
Advice #6-if your competition is out of town, make sure you stay in the same hotel as the dance director. Then have your child swim all night until the pool closes the night before their competition.
If you’re lucky enough to have a mini, they are usually the first to go on….at like 8am (with a call of 7). Yes, the dancers with the shortest attention span and poorest discipline are expected to be ready to go first. Which is where the swimming comes in. Your kids going to be pissed at being up so early. Expect tantrums.
If this works properly, your director will yell at your child and tell you to take them back to the room for nap, (i.e. you get a nap). Because with most dance companies, your dancer has to support every other dancer. All. Day. Long. Like 7am call to 8pm awards.
Why the frack would anyone sign up for this crap? Their first class at age 2 was so cute! Wasn’t it? Their little leo’s and ballet slippers and funky leg warmers…so stinking cute you want rip your eyeballs out!
Be warned, this may be the fate of your tiny dancer. It’s a cruel world, pals!
This is more of a plea than anything else.
While in high school, I stumbled down the dangerous path that most high schoolers manage to avoid. Yep, you guessed it.
When I became fully engrossed in the political areana with campaigns and party platforms crap, I became passionate. Like, holy cow, “someone get that girl a Xanax!” It was new to me and politics was my drug.
Now had Facebook been around, I can confidently admit that I would have been on it all day long ranting, belittling those who disagrees with me, calling names, slinging mud, and spinning to my little hearts desire! My zen.
And then I grew up. Its been many since my love of politics began. I know it’s uncommon to start that young and y’all are just now getting into the passionate part of an election year. But, I’ve realized that calling names and shoving my views down others people’s throats actually counterintuitive.
Listen pals, people think you’re bat shit crazy. You’re getting on Facebook and calling people names because they don’t agree with you. You look like an anger filled idiot who only turns to rage because they cannot eloquently defend their own views.
So for the love of God, chill out! I get it, you hate my political party. Whoop de fricken do. That’s great, it’s what’s makes America this great land we are lucky enough to have lived in. And sadly, rage filled undereducated assholes are also what America special, too.
So do what’s right, write in Her et al. for president.