It started off being exhausted from a weekend in Chicago filled with too much walking, an epic concert, a sorority reunion and a couple otters. Also an amazingly ludicrous meltdown that had a toddler crying, drooling, spitting, flailing and melting from downtown Chicago to Midway Airport, through the baggage check line, past security and all the way to the gate. So that was a fun ending to the trip. But the flight? Mot@#$!f#@$ angel. At least he gave me that. Continue reading
I saw “the ad” yesterday. Maybe the night before. And at first I thought it was sweet and almost shared the link. But I didn’t. And then I thought about it a little more. And then I rolled my eyes.
And at this point I know I’m not the only one that’s bitching about it or will bitch about it and I’m definitely not the best of the best that will bitch about it, but whatever. I feel like bitching about it and I already wrote it so I don’t care.
If you are somehow blissfully unawares of the latest in viral emotional scams, let me assist you: Advertising geniuses ingeniously came up with a campaign that had real people interview for a fake job that had stupid, not to mention obviously illegal, work demands and then hit them with the SURPRISE IT’S MOM! shtick. Continue reading
Yesterday, we went over the cons of such a situation. But today we celebrate the silver linings! It’s not always bad. Even in college we had summer and winter breaks apart, giving us an opportunity to miss/appreciate/become less annoyed with the other. That span of 2005.5-2008.5 where we didn’t have a break?
Yeah, I don’t want to talk about that. Deployments can be good! We’ve come to enjoy them, at least parts of them.
Plus they don’t exactly hurt the bank account and are pretty much the reason I don’t have to schlep to work every day any more…
Anyway, let’s get started!
Clearly, things could be harder. I could always be a single parent. But I’m not. I have pride in my husband who has chosen an important career even if it means he is away from home several months at a time. Even then, I know it could be three to four times longer than that. I’ve accepted this as OUR situation, both before and after we had a kid. And obviously, there will be more cons than pros, I’m not heartless. But there are, in fact, a few pros. We’ll get to those tomorrow.
Quite honestly, I’m used to this routine, I’m happy to find good moments where good moments lie. And while things change (i.e. get ridiculously harder) as the kid grows, you just gotta MAN UP and roll with the punches. Even if you just want to punch yourself in the boob sometimes.
So on with the CONS:
An Open Letter to the Children of the Newest Generation
You’re all losers.
Yes, sure, you’re all unique little children. No one in the world is quite like you. Like snowflakes, you are one of a kind. However, there are also BILLIONS OF FUCKING SNOWFLAKES.
I never bought into that “no two snowflakes are the same” bullshit. Mother Nature is creative but she also creates a shitton of snow. Surely she repeats a pattern occasionally.
Many of you are being coddled by your parents, teachers, bus drivers, pediatricians, neighbors, tween bands, relatives, veterinarians, monkeys, pretty much anyone you come in contact with. And while their heads may all be in the right place, they are morphing you into a generation of noncompetitive wusses.
Everyone gets a trophy. Everyone gets a prize. Everyone gets a medal. No one feels left out.
NO. THAT IS NOT HOW THE WORLD WORKS.
The world is driven by competition. Getting into college, finding an internship, getting a job, busting your balls for a promotion, starting your own business…guess what, tiny shitheads. It all requires a competitive drive. Which you aren’t learning to hone. You’re learning that everyone wins. Sweet participant trophy, dude.
Why this rant, why now? Because making the game Operation have EASIER PIECES TO REMOVE is stupid. The whole fun point of that game is the buzz. I don’t ever recall actually PLAYING the game growing up, just fishing the pieces out or holding the thing against the metal to BE buzzed. Making it easier sounds boring as shit and I’m pretty sure that actual game play IS boring. Side note, is the fart noise and noxious cloud in that commercial really necessary? Are you guys sinking that low that a game itself isn’t enticing but added bonus TV farts will make you jump for joy and beg your parents to get it for you?
I mean, farts are funny but come on.
I also heard some of you don’t keep score in sports? What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re telling me that you play the game for an hour or through the acceptable amount of innings/periods/quarters and then….leave? What’s the point? I’m glad you’re getting exercise, but seriously. What’s the point? Next you’re going to tell me you don’t wear uniforms because you don’t want to differentiate from each other because you’re all so equally awesome.
Why even bother going through tournaments, then? Or do those just cease to exist in this non-score keeping world and everyone gets a Thanks for Playing, Champ type prize at the end of the season? We all got something in my softball summer leagues growing up, but you did NOT want to leave with one of those piddly participant Thanks for Trying to Play medals, you wanted the two #@%! foot tall monstrosity that you’d admire for a month and then shove in the corner of your closet.
But dammit, that was a glorious, prideful month of admiration. THAT YOU EARNED.
I took a softball TO THE FACE to earn that @%@#$! trophy. (True story. Except it was second place and the trophy was only like a foot and a half. BUT STILL.)
Someday, sooner than later, you’ll need to compete for something you really want.
I’m telling you this as a person who lacks a TRUE competitive drive, children. I know how hard it is to pull enough passion out of myself to push me forward. While I am good at what I do, I also lack the drive to aim for greatness. I am usually satisfied with mediocre and I’ll bitch about not getting a better job/salary/raise/promotion though deep down I know it’s my own fault.
Who do I blame? ME. Me, myself and those 15 years of dance lessons. I didn’t learned how to compete there but holy shit can I tap, especially in front of a room full of senior citizens. Lots of good that does me these days. I blame my short stature for not making the high school volleyball team, thus ending my competitive sport spirit. I blame my good brains for getting more than decent grades without seriously trying, thus ending desire to push for more.
I’M TRYING TO HELP YOU HERE. Be competitive. Fight. Strive for greatness. Find passion in something. Admit that you’re the best or find the person who IS the best and #@%!# beat them at their game. Not literally beat them. JUST AT THEIR GAME. Don’t be ashamed. But stay humble. Play the old version of Operation. You’re gonna get buzzed (and not from Boone’s Farm). Life stings. Get used to it.
AND KEEP SCORE FOR SHITS SAKE.
Good luck. You’re gonna need it.