Grumpy Trumpy

Do you ever saying something just to stir the pot or be the devils advocate? What if that’s all he intended and he didn’t know when to turn back? But I digress…

Let’s be real people. In four years, were going to look back at his bowl full of empty promises like every president before him. Because when you really think about it, the presidents singular power, is pretty much nill.

Que the “but he picks the scotus” and “red in house and senate”.  Well that’s all fine and dandy but similar circumstances have existed before and we’ve yet to decide into districts and compete in a Hunger Games like everyone on Facebook land is crying.

Relax. Collapsing into an anxiety ridden does not make him less of a president elect. 

Because even he is probably a little stunned by the results.


Bang, Bang

Some people killed some people. 

Some people who shared similarities with the people who were killed got mad that those people were killed because it really seemed senseless. 

And then it happened again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And you see where this is going. Well each time this happened, the people who shared those similarities got mad.

Duh. Of course. Their similarities made then different from the people who shot the gun who killed the people, but it didn’t make them ‘bad’. 


And they got scared. Because if they shared those similarities….could they be next? Is it just a case of wrong place, wrong time? It needs to stop. How do we stop it? We ALL know it needs to stop!

But when it comes to these police officer shootings, perhaps the media shouldn’t be looking to black community to see how they are going to fix this problem. This is a primarily white person problem. (I know the office in Minnesota was of Asian descent, but that is an outlier.) 

WE need to fix this. It’s not up to the black community to educate us. To stop us. 

Just like it isn’t up to the LGBT community to educate us.

Just like it wasn’t up to children of Sandy Hook to educate us.

Media-focus your camera here, to see what we are going to do, what I am going to do. And not on the grieving black community.

Purple Tears

I finally decide to take to Facebook to beg for new mom friends, a cry for help of sorts…and 5 seconds later Prince died. Typical Her et al. luck. 

It’s odd how famous people are like us where they live and die and someone is mourning him like the hell I went through last summer when I found my dad.

He wasn’t any more important than my dad, he was just better known. And a much better musician than my dad, although that bar was low. Sorry dad.

What craftsmen, they were. May they continue their art by speaking to our hearts. Both my dad and Prince.

Er Mergerd!

I. Could. Vomit! If it wasn’t the pope, please don’t tell me!! I’d like to die thinking the pope read my blog post about Leonardo DiCaprio not being hot anymore! 

A little more info. This is from the stats page of my blog. It tells me all about the people who read my blog except like, who y’all are. Ok, not really. 

Basically it tells me which country your ip pings back to and how people find me (via Facebook, WordPress, or Google). So I saw yesterday that someone (Obvi Pope Francis) had been beep bopping around cause it’s the bomb, yo!

So thank you, Her et al.iens! And to my favorite Her et al.ien, Pope Francis, I thank you, kind sir. Please pardon my French.

Springing Ahead: A Moms BFF

Daylight savings time is bullshit anyways. But I’ll leave that for a different post.

Back in college, I loved it when daylight savings time ended. Falling backwards meant one extra hour of drinking! But springing forward meant waking up at what felt like 7 if I had to get up at 8. And that blows goat. 

But now that I’m a mom, my life doesn’t run the way I want it to. It runs the way my toddler wants it to. And she can really be a real…..well I’m not going to say because sometimes my mom accidentally reads my shit.

But I digress. Now that I’m older than dirt, I love it when daylight savings time starts and I hate it when it ends. You see, my nearly threenanger cannot read a frucking clock yet. Why? Don’t know. But it’s kind embarrassing. She’s not potty trained yet, doesn’t know her ABC’s and I’m pretty damn sure she hasn’t given a thought to her 401K.

Good Lord do I get off track easily.

So when daylight savings time starts. Baby et al. wakes up at her normal 6am…..BUT WAIT YOU LITTLE SHIT!!! WE DONE SPRUNG AHEAD AND ITS 7am!!

Drops mic.

(Read: Hits ‘Post’)

Yet Another Political Blog Post by a Yet Another Random Person

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.

Don’t Tell Anyone…

Oh sh!t you guys. My kid jacked the Declaration of Independence! 


There I was, going through her backpack when I spotted it: I mean, it looks legit. And it’s clearly titled! It may look a smidge different than the last time I visualized the Declaration of Independence, but the lighting in that building suuuuucccckkks. 

I couldn’t tell you how she did this, I don’t even know when she had the time to fly to DC. Nor did I think she would be able to locate the National Archives Building, let alone bypass all the security! What do I do now?

There’s only one explanation: