The innocence of huge fucking knockers

Our friend insomnia brought me to a Pinterest page devoted to "bad" cosmetic surgery.

Now if you're going to hate, I feel like you owe it to the hate-ee to at least be fair, honest and specific.

"Bad" plastic surgery, first of all, is determined by the recipient, not the observer. If you don't like what you're seeing, turn your fucking neck or shut your face. It's that simple.

Now, about fairness. It is NOT fair to compare a Marie Osmond photo from 1977 and one from 2011 when she's three weeks out from a mini-lift or something and be all like, OMFG, her face is melting off her head. Ewwwww!!!!

NO. She's not 14 anymore, dummy. Can you do math? And here's a novel concept, the human body takes TIME to heal from any surgical procedure. Not only the cosmetic ones.

Despite the sexy name, cosmetic surgery does cause temporary swelling and bruising. The best a person can do is take care of themselves and let the body heal. It does take time. It can take a year or more to grow into a lifted face. F'real. I'm speaking from some bits of personal experience, k?

Honesty matters, even when you're being a snotface. If you dislike someone just because their lip injections look fierce and you're jealous, try not being jealous and see if that helps before slapping up an unflattering and/or OBVIOUSLY digitally manipulated image and perpetuate a falsehood of said photo being the result of "bad" plastic surgery. Use your damn brain. You have one, right?

Now, specifics. There are surgical mistakes, quackery, extremes, etc. Then there's bad makeup, bad light, unflattering haircuts; all manner of polishing one's look can go a-wonk sometimes.

If it is indeed a cosmetic surgery gone awry, fine, if you must 'call someone out' then say so. But if it's a shitty makeup job, don't call that surgery. Because, well, it isn't. Duh.

Lastly, the fact that a person feels the need to devote a rather full Pinterest page of random-ass, misinformation-filled comments and images of alleged 'bad' cosmetic surgery says FAR more about the Pinner than it does about my huge fucking knockers, which have done absolutely nothing bad to you, me or anyone else, for that matter. They're actually rather awesome pillows. But you'll never know because you deserve to sleep on a burlap sack full of rusty thumbtacks.

Guest Blogger: Glambo Angelala shares her thoughts but not her cosmetics money

Hello.  I am Angela, friend to Buffie and 2 other people.  Buffie and I had a conversation about something very important and came to the conclusion that we are geniuses and people should listen to us.  I said nobody listens to us because we don't blog.  She was taking a very long break from her blog and I've never blogged about anything in my life.  This seemed to stir her blog juices because she blogged that very night.  Granted, she was not sober but she assures me it's best to blog when you're drunk. 

I confess!  I have a boyfriend.  He IS stupid but he’s the good kind of stupid.  That’s all I’m going to say about him.

Also, his name is whatever Buffie wants it to be.  He has me French pressing my coffee AT HOME!  See what I mean?!  Stupid!  He DID furnish me with a bean grinder, a French Press and a kettle so at least I didn't invest any of my cosmetics money.  That’s REALLY all I’m going to say on the matter.

I want to share some things about Buffie because reading her blog doesn’t give you a full appreciation of the excellence that you’re dealing with here.

She is not lying when she writes in her blog that her self-esteem is high, as it should be.  One way to tell if a woman has low self-esteem is by watching her interact with other women.  Women with low self-esteem will immediately begin finding ways to make the women around them feel ugly or inadequate.  Buffie does exactly the opposite.  She tries to make everyone around her look and feel beautiful.  You never have to worry that she’ll allow you to leave the house for a night out looking less than stunning.  She would never criticize or even look at you funny if you were a mess but if you ask her to, she’ll make you look like a fashion model in 15 seconds time.  You also never have to worry about putting on makeup or doing your hair if you don’t want to because she’ll make you FEEL beautiful even if you look like ass.  She is a firm believer in accepting people the way that they are and loving them for it anyway.

Buffie also nurtures one through the booze flu and doesn’t even try to make one feel bad for puking a streak down her truck.  She simply takes that opportunity to invent practical tools like the Hoark Tube®™ over breakfast the next morning with Mr. Buffie.

Buffie makes you feel sparkly even when you’re not.  She sees the beauty in everyone until their UGLY gets so big, she can no longer ignore it.  She is an amazing friend but a fierce enemy.  I’ve seen her track bitches down after they had spent years tormenting her anonymously for no good reason other than they’re evil.  She didn’t do anything to them except remove their cloak of anonymity and make their UGLY public.  That was enough.

Pro Procastinator’s Tips:

Sometimes when I’m sitting around and thinking of excuses to not take care of the 500 things that need done around my house, I will suddenly yell “ACTION!”  Sometimes this works because I can convince myself that in this movie, I'm playing a productive go-getter.  This motivates me to act like a much better person than I am. 

I also will coax myself off my ass with a British accent, “Sweetie darling, please get up and go and make some tea.”  This helps me to get up and make tea.

Fun fact:

I'm so weak that I haven't been able to open a jar of pickles bare-handed in 3 years.

Peace! 

This is why I'm fat.

My parents took exotic cooking classes as a hobby, so we ate all around the world from quiet, unassuming Oklahoma City.  My mum is a wizard.  So are all her sisters and their daughters and their granddaughters.  But guess who was skipped by that particular gene?  Yep.  Me.  Oh the irony.  The painful irony to have this sophisticated but sensitive palate yet lack the ability make nom magic like Mum.  It does explain, in part, my physical state though.  That state being big.

Therefore, I like being in the kitchen but it's for eating, not cooking.

Let's talk about fluff for a sec, because, y'know, it's what people talk about.  Trust me, Cosmo and Glamour obsess about size way more than I do but it is a favorite topic.  And for me it's as much positive as it is negative for Cosmo and Glamour.  And that's why their editor's opinions will never, ever matter.  The diet industry is a biggun, speaking of girth.  That's a bunch of ad dollars, so you can't 100% blame them for it but in a way, you can.

Negative attitudes and opinions never matter because most of the time, people just act like they hate something in an attempt to make you feel bad for liking it.  Don't think that's true?  I just defined passive aggression, which is the third most common element in the universe behind hydrogen and stupidity.

Back to weight.  Recently, I attended a gathering where multiple members of the same family were present.  Perhaps multiple is too conservative.  More like upwards of 20 or 30 people who all shared DNA.

Something I noticed...  Among the members who were big, and most were bigger than 'average' by height and width, the fat ones were all fat in the exact same way.  Every single member carried their weight in the same place on the body.  All of them, the same shape, just different sizes or slight variations.  Tell me again that part about how the way your body looks is always a choice?  It's a choice for some but not all, maybe not even most.

Now this isn't nanotechnology or some great science at work.  I'm not claiming it to be anything more than an insomniac babbling online because the musical group on Conan tonight was a bust.

But seeing that whole family reminded me of my family and Mum and her sisters, and their daughters and granddaughters.  We're all some level of fat and again, with the exception of me, healthy like oxen.  Anyone who expects people of ginger origin to be sickly never met my mother's relatives.  They live hard and they live long.  By live hard, I do mean they don't sit still for long.  OCD and ADHD may have be introduced to the gene pool by my ancestors.  Buuut, some of them have also smoked and drank, practically out of the womb, they're still smoking and drinking and knocking on the door of triple-digit birthdays.

If you think body shape isn't as much genetic as eye color or cancer, that's alright.  But if you think that gives you validation for treating big people like shit, you're dead wrong.

You can still hate me for it.  That's your problem, not mine.  If you would like for me to attempt to change your mind, prove to me first that it's worth my time and energy.  We can iron out details in private.  =^_^=

My study of shit attitudes is the same as my study on how fat happens.  Observing people, except with attitude, it's about the way they act in different kinds of situations, the way they are susceptible to influence.

You might have a shit attitude if:
You hate more things than you like,
You hate trying anything new,
If you do try something new, you hate what you tried,
You hate it when people like something you hate,
You hate when people like something you don't hate so you hate on whatever they like,
You hate it when people are happy and you don't feel like they have earned nor deserve it,
You hate it when people are happy, even if you do think they deserve it,
You rarely think anyone deserves to be happy or successful,
You hate anyone in a better station in life than you because you think you've earned and deserve to be on top,
You think you're owed something from the rest of us because you manage to tolerate everyone else despite hating them,
You're a selfish, rude, oblivious fuckhead.

Now do you see why shit attitude opinions don't matter?  Because the only thing haters do is hate.  They maybe aren't thoroughly one-dimensional, but not far from it.  And they hate everything, so hating you or something about you is inevitable, unstoppable and affects you only if you let it.

That's what I've learned.  And this is why I'm fat.

Shit. It happens.

Funny, sad and true.

Conservatives throw mud at "bleeding-heart" Liberals but when it comes to the plight of the unborn (insert dramatic face), Conservatives wrote the book on hearts that bleed.


Grab hold of your party-line politics and take a little walk with me down a very likely what-if lane.


Even when someone is responsible, established and does everything right, accidents can still happen.

Here's a slice of real life:

Imagine a 36-year-old married woman with a 50-year-old husband, both have full-time jobs and also two part-time sources of income which are heavily taxed since it’s considered self-employment.

Let's say the husband has an 18-year-old son from a previous marriage.  He pays over $500 a month in child support and his son lives with them approximately 50% of the time.  They're fortunate to have a smart kid who starts college at a top local university in the fall.

Even with multiple sources of income and financially conservative living, they barely make ends meet.  The husband had cancer nine years ago and they had no health insurance during the duration of his treatment.  They're in debt from medical bills and now about to pay for books and tuition in addition to paying the $500+ child support for another four years.  (In many cases, non-deadbeat fathers pay for the sins of the losers and are ordered to give money to the mothers until the child is 22 or 'emancipated' meaning not attending school.)

The shitty part of this story is where people must share their intimate details with lawmakers in order to make a point.  The married couple always uses birth control.  But birth control is NOT infallible.  It can and does fail, that’s why the manufacturers must disclose such on the packaging.


Now don't tell me you expect this struggling but happily-married couple to abstain.  Come on.  Totally unrealistic.  They're in love, attracted to each other, married (this is sooo important to you, right).  Are YOU going to abstain from having sex with your spouse?  No way and if you say yes, you're a damn liar.

So what happens should birth control fail, pro-life lawmakers?  If this woman cannot terminate an accidental pregnancy, what are her options?  Carry the child to term knowing it is high risk at her age?  Here's another detail about our wife, she's physically challenged (insert your own ailment, fibro, RA, lupus...).

Can you imagine how a pregnancy will impact her, a 36-year-old disabled woman who works 60-80 hours a week and already struggling to support her family?  Do you care?  No, you care about the unborn more than you care about someone who pays taxes, already has a step-child to support and a husband who is 50 and not interested in raising another child at his age.

Tell me how that makes sense.  Tell me why you would rather allow an unwanted pregnancy to destroy her life than let her have an abortion.  Tell me why you would rather this scenario for all women.

Assuming the pregnancy itself doesn't kill both the woman and the unborn child, are YOU going to adopt these babies?  No.  You’re not.


You would rather they end up on the streets with her little accident in her arms, having to beg and borrow just to feed the child.  Please tell me how that’s better than terminating a pregnancy.


And that is IF she has a healthy baby.  But if you factor in her age and the fact that she is disabled and already under a lot of stress, there's a strong likelihood she will have a child with special needs, she may have a premature child.  There's something she needs like a kick in the teeth, more stress.


Since conservative lawmakers are none too fond of government assistance programs, this disabled 36-year-old new mother with a special needs child who has lost her part-time income because there are only 24 hours in a day and perhaps lost her husband as well because the stress tore their marriage apart (oh, what about the FAMILY conservatives so dearly love to 'preserve'), where does she go now?


No, that's not the right question.


Where does she go now with her special needs child?


That's the right question.  One job that doesn't pay the bills, a child whose expenses are higher than average because of medical needs or challenges, no husband and no assistance programs...


Homeless shelter maybe?  A relative might let her stay there for a couple of months until she can find a shitty apartment and that will be their existence.  The child will eat a lot of ramen noodles, maybe get the occasional hot lunch at school (remember, no more assistance programs, no more reduced-cost lunches for low-income children), hopefully get a decent education, provided the child is not mentally challenged...


Can the mother take her child on a vacation to see the world, experience different places and people?  Don't make me laugh, that costs money.  The woman couldn't afford to take a vacation with her husband before she got pregnant.


But, you know, public school, shitty apartment and maybe some hand-me-down books and toys will make for an enriching life.  When the mother isn't keeping her nose to the grind, trying to earn every penny she can until her body gives out and she can't work at all.  (Meanwhile she hopes her child will be able to live independently or with another sympathetic relative once the mother loses the shitty apartment - even slums cost money.)


Yes, that is SO MUCH BETTER for everyone than just terminating an unwanted pregnancy.  Right.  So much better for YOU, pro-lifer.  The struggling woman and her hungry child will sleep so much better at night knowing you're happy that she chose "life."

Note:

I am neither Republican nor Democrat.  I'm a registered Independent.

Here are a few of my independent positions:

I own guns and support the right to bear arms.

I am pro-gay.

I am pro-choice.

I am atheist and I support freedom of religion as long as there is separation of church and state.

I want lawmakers who are fiscally conservative, transparent and ethical.

I think our government has grown too large and needs to be dramatically reduced.

I support our military.

I support legalizing marijuana.

I think the welfare system needs reform, not elimination.
I vote my conscience.

I pester the ever-loving hell out of my elected officials and encourage all of you to do exactly the same.

There's a reason they call 'em private parts.

O hai Boycotting Girl Scout people,


I saw a video on Jezebel.

Is this a case of bigoted parents having bigoted kids? Regardless of how she arrived at her fear of penises and her obsession with dressing how she wants in a group, she'll make a hell of an attorney someday if she can find an all-bigot-females-born-with-vaginas-only country where she can practice law.

And you know what, Honest Discriminating Girl Scout (that's a factual term, she's being honest as fuck about her feelings) I ate a fat ton of Girl Scout cookies the past couple weeks and Imma finish my box of Thin Mints tonight. Maybe I'll throw down s'more cash on Thanks A Lots tomorrow. And maybe I'll do it for the sole reason that GSUSA allowed a transgender (meaning no longer male but FEMALE) GIRL into the group.

Here's the deal, Uptight Robot Child, USE YOUR BRAIN. If an evil, plotting, ill-intentioned boy is trying to get into GSUSA because he thinks he will score some poon, have a little more faith in the adults around you to catch on to his game before he gets his slimy man parts anywhere near your pristine white cotton briefs.

Do your parents sleep in separate beds in your creepily perfect Reese Witherspoon in "Election" kind of home and have they raised you to be scalded-dog scared of anything that isn't All American Cream Cheese Sunday School White Linen Napkins?

Am I advocating child molestation here? Again, if ya use yer inferior lady brains, you'll see I am clearly NOT. (You said it yourself, girls need all-girl places to feel like it is 'easier' to do thinks like fart or talk about how frustrating it is when you only get an A and not an A+ on your calculus test.)  (Quickie question tho.  If it is easier to talk about badges and swimming with ONLY GIRLS BORN WITH VAGINAS then why is it hard to talk about these things in mixed company?  IF it is indeed harder to do this, then is that a boy's fault or is it yours?)

Check this out because it is an absolute truth.  You do not and can not know everyone's situation. I don't know your situation other than what you shared in your video and I'm asking you questions about it although I realize it's unlikely, in the massive soup of the interwebs, that you'll ever see them or even answer.


The fact remains.  It's impossible to suddenly know a person's intentions because you have one piece of information about their body. IMPOSSIBLE. Trust me. It is not possible.  Can we agree that this is an honest fact?

How would you feel if you had all your same emotions, all your same spirit, ethics, your entire personality, your whole life was all exactly the same but you had a boy's body?

Would YOU want to live in a world that respected you, treated you fairly and allowed you the same freedoms everyone else enjoys?

OR

Would you want to be the one single solitary You-With-A-Penis in a world filled with other Yous-With-A-Vagina who treated you like a rapist just because you had a personal physical issue with which you were dealing?

If we're being HONEST here (you clearly conveyed how important honesty is to you) then I feel safe in saying you would indeed pick the fair treatment and respect. So if you'd pick it for yourself, why would you deny it for someone else? That doesn't sound like a very GSUSA thing to do, does it?

Makes me think you're not the stellar representative of GSUSA you set out to be. Which would mean people should actually boycott YOU and NOT delicious GSUSA cookies. And on that note, your argument is invalid.

Ohkay, bye now. I'm off to share my Girl Scout cookies with big, bad, scary different people.

A Cure for the Common Fattie

As we know, the bigger you are, the more universally hated you are.

I mean, even Carrie Fisher said the world is a hostile place for a fat person.  She is not wrong.

Yesterday I visited the endocrinologist for a follow up on my issues.  Got CAT scan results.  The good news - nothing is wrong.  The bad news - nothing is wrong.  Square one again.  Still have the pain and the hyperhidrosis but they dunno what's causing it.

This endocrinologist came highly recommended by several people, including my regular doc and my psychiatrist.  So I was expecting the best possible treatment.  First visit went alright.  He tried to push WLS on me, gastric bypass.  Told him no go.  He backed off.

Yesterday he brought it up again, as if he had forgotten I said absolutely not.  And when I reminded him that I wasn't going to do it, he shamed me by making a condescending remark that he thought it was "interesting" that my hyperhidrosis wasn't affected by my weight and sent me on my way.  He even had the gall to refer me back to the Revolving Door Dermatology Warehouse.

Anyway, I left in a huff.  Feeling like a substandard human because I am not small enough to be treated like everyone else.  Not my proudest moment.  I'm angry at myself for letting someone get to me and for allowing myself to feel that way.

Seems like I am seeing so much fat hate lately. More than usual.  I'm probably still miffed over the couple who openly made fun of me last week.  It's all weighing in my mind.  (Weighing... puns... I'm so clever.  *snort*)

Instead of whining about it, I've decided to just buy in.  If you can't beat them, join them, right?  That's what they always say and they always know what they're talking about.

Hate fat people?  Of course you do.  Everyone does.  So let's eliminate them.  These are the most popular techniques currently in use by the diet industry, Cosmopolitan Magazine and millions of commenters all over the internet.

First of all, insults make fat people thin.  I haven't seen this work with my own eyes.  But I know it has to be effective because it is socially acceptable to belittle and shame big people.  Remember the Bowflex guy who "gave all his FAT clothes to his FAT friends?"  That was a national ad campaign.  So that tells you right there that the entire nation can't think of anything worse than being fat.

Bullying, that's another one that really hits home.  Ohkay, this one didn't work on me unfortunately but it probably is helpful to the ones who actually survive it.  I know, I survived it too.  But I'm a bad example because ...  ...  Mmmm...  Hrmmm.  Well, I guess it must work because of science or something.

Alright, now we have the obvious one, diet ads!  Almost every single commercial break has at least one, sometimes several.  There are pills and gadgets and garments and meal plans and you can even hire someone to remind you on a regular basis what a foul, disgusting pig you are.  I think her name is Jillian Michaels.

Of course, you can't watch anything on E! or read anything in mainstream lifestyle magazines without having attention called to the fact that you're a horrible warty fat toad.  All the fashion trends are focused on looking as small as possible.  Smaller is better.  Always.  Amazing summer beach bodies perpetually belong to the stars who have hired a trainer, nutritionist, plastic surgeon and chef then spent all their extra time in their private home gyms to shed an extra five pounds.  And if THEY can do it with their busy schedules and tight budgets, then we slovenly blobs have no excuse.

The next time you are out and about and someone remarks on your size, you immediately apologize!  Then you thank them for helping you keep feelings of shame and embarrassment right under the surface.

Also, go to the nearest bathroom and barf up everything you've eaten for the past three weeks then sell everything you own and hire that trainer lady to scream about all your physical misgivings in your face while you sob on a treadmill.

Fuck.

All.

That.

Shit.

You know what needs a cure?  We do.  All of us.  I have so many friends who put themselves down constantly.  Stop it.  Please.  You're not accomplishing anything positive when you do that.

You read the magazines and think that's how you /should/ look when you roll out of bed.

Let me tell you something.  For 10 years I worked full-time as a makeup artist.  I've seen professional models at 5 a.m.  They have zits, bags under their eyes, scars, crusty cuticles, weird veins, hair growing in strange places.  EVERYONE DOES.

But after a couple hours of hair and makeup, soft lighting, professional photography and a gifted graphic artist retouching the picture, they look like what you see in the magazines.  IT IS ALL A FACADE.  It isn't meant to be lived day in and day out.  It's art.  It's someone's vision.  Flawlessness does not exist in anyone.

What you see as flaws in yourself aren't flaws at all.  They're part of being human.  Stop being so hard on yourself.  I've got to do the same thing.  I have completely unrealistic expectations of who I'm supposed to be and it causes me nothing but endless disappointment.

Fact: Fat people are big.  They're not dumb, they're not lazy, they don't stink.  (Yes, there ARE people in this world who are ignorant, unmotivated and smelly.  Those people come in all shapes and sizes.  Fat has nothing to do with it.)

Fiction: Hating and humiliating fat people will make the world a better place.

I don't know how to make this any clearer.  But the body shame has GOT TO STOP and I'm starting with me.

If Catherine Zeta-Jones can do it...

... Then so can I.

Not that I've ever tried to hide my mental health issues but I'm always glad to see a celebrity speaking frankly on the topic.  CZJ is on a recent cover of People Magazine talking about treating her bipolar disorder.

That takes balls, big brass ones.

Even in 2011, there's still a lot of stigma attached to mental illness.  Seems like many people continue to misunderstand what it is; some question whether it is even a "real" problem and some even believe people who live with mental illness are responsible for having their disorder.  Absurd, I know!

Let me make it clear - it IS an actual, medical issue.  No organ is infallible, so why assume the brain is?  To the non-believers, do you actually think psychologists, psychiatrists and pharmaceutical companies conspired to create an imaginary illness just so they could have something to do?  Then would they get all the imaginary patients all over the world to fake all the same symptoms for particular disorders?  Come on now, be realistic... they wouldn't.

(At this time, I will acknowledge that some people do fake illnesses.  I think it's called Münchausen syndrome.  I'm not talking about those certain individuals in this instance.  Their existence doesn't prove that mental illness is 'fake.'  If anything, it proves the opposite of that.  Everyone on the same page here?)

I have an anxiety disorder and to a rather severe degree.  My parents noticed symptoms when I was about 3 years old.  At age 19, I began treatment with therapy and medication.  Don't ask why it took so long... it doesn't matter at this point.  Today I continue to take meds and occasionally see a therapist.  There is no cure but treatment does improve my quality of life significantly.  The daily struggle never goes away but with help, it's tolerable and I'm able to be a mostly functional member of society.

If you think you or someone you know has a mental illness, there is no shame in getting help.  If you have a friend who acts uncontrollably moody, depressed, nervous, paranoid, etc...  don't blame them for it.  Be supportive, suggest they talk to a doctor.

If funds are limited, explain this to the doctor.  There are ways you can treat your disorder on a budget.  Some doctors will discount office visits for people who don't have insurance.  My doctor did when I didn't have coverage.  He would also give me samples of the medication to help me out when I couldn't afford to refill my prescription every month.  If you can't cover the price of one-on-one therapy, there might be support groups in your area that cost little to nothing.

You don't have to suffer and you shouldn't blame yourself.  You might never be totally symptom-free but you CAN feel better, so get on the internet and find a mental health professional in your area.  There are people who understand what you're going through.  Catherine Zeta-Jones does and so do I.

Why are your bad decisions my responsibility?

No secret I love some Junk TeeVee.  It's nice to have mindless drivel playing in the background when I'm going about my domestic business.  Sometimes I find it entertaining between folding clothes or vacuuming.  Other times, it's just white noise while I do some bookkeeping or during nights when I work from home.

Recently I caught part of a show where a girl with money for $5-mocha-chino-lattes, fake nails, dining out, tanning, designer purses and other things receives government assistance.  Since when is it acceptable to spend money on happy ha ha fun time things then require the taxpayer to pick up the tab for her essentials?

These assistance programs provide a vital service to people who truly need help.  People who are physically or mentally challenged and unable to work but don't have the luxury of having a wealthy parent to buy them a home are the ones meant to benefit from government aid.  Then there are the working poor - people who can and do work yet don't currently earn enough money to pay for medicine or food.  Government assistance is intended for these individuals, sometimes permanently or long-term and other times temporarily until they can get back on their feet.

Government assistance is NOT meant to be used in place of personal accountability.  (Fer shizz, I really want an iPhone 4 even though a regular mobile phone will work just fine.  Unfortunately, I only have enough money to buy things I actually need, like groceries and gas.  BUT if I get food stamps, I'll be able to buy an iPhone 4.  Yay me!  I'm so clever.  Thank you, hard-working people who pay taxes so I can have things I don't really need.)  Many people are doing precisely that and to such a degree that some of these programs are now in danger of being eliminated.  How an able-bodied, able-minded person can abuse the system and sleep at night blows my mind.  Apparently it isn't too hard because it happens every day.

Money for these programs doesn't come flying out of a unicorn's ass.  People who work and pay taxes fund the programs.  Therefore, people who abuse the programs are committing fraud and stealing from taxpayers.


Since when is entitlement en vogue?  What's so glamorous about being a mooch?

Why do taxpayers owe help to someone who doesn't truly need it?

Fifty Pounds of Douche in a Five Pound Bag

I wish I could figure out what is wrong with some people. Then I remember there is indeed much truth to the saying 'ignorance is bliss.' But if I don't complain at least a little bit, I'm going to burst. This week has been such a pisser... literally.

Yesterday afternoon, there was a group of asshole baseball fans in the grocery store parking lot, drinking beers and relieving themselves right out there in the open, in broad daylight. I know what I think to myself when I see an intoxicated loser pissing in public - wow, how amazingly rad. I yearn to be so cool someday.

You do the Kansas City Royals damn proud, you pathetic lot of drunk-driving fuck ups. I would wish that you had both smacked your little silver compact car and your fine redneck limousine (aka truck) into bridge abutments or each other on the way home. But knowing what an upstanding bunch you were, I bet you don't have a lick of insurance so you'd be sucking off the hind government tit to pay for your injuries and I give a massive chunk of my income for that tit so... yeah... unfortunately, I hope you got home safely and without harming non-drunk-driving people.

Just wanted you to know my desire for your well-being is purely motivated by selfishness. If there were no such thing as undeserving fucktards on various kinds of welfare, I would't give half a shit what happened to you guys.

You saw me flag down an employee in the parking lot and you were keen enough to get the hell out of there because I think you figured out I was trying to complicate your evening. Congratulations, you have at least one active brain cell. Too bad we were on private property or else I would have just called the police instead of waiting for the store manager.

I think next time I see something like that, I will call the police. Now that I think about it, you got into your vehicles with open containers. It doesn't matter that you were on private property at that point, does it? Filing that away in my Mental Rolodex for sure.

For what it cost you to drive to the game, park, buy beer and food, you could have all shared a cab and for a few dollars in tip, the cab driver would happily have waited for you while you WENT INSIDE the store or a gas station to use the facilities. Royals fans? Not so much. More like Royal douchebags.

Sadly I can't say that's the only example of the shitty side of humanity I witnessed this week...

Tonight I'm driving home from work. At a stop light, there's a nicely maintained Range Rover. It's been tastefully 'pimped,' not overdone. Next to it in the left-turn lane is a little import of some kind. A Hyundai or Kia, not sure. They all look the same.

This one was especially cherry. Banged up mismatched body panels, with peeling, bubbled tint on the filthy windows and one of those big coffee-can angry farting bee exhaust pipes sagging under the cockeyed bumper. The back tire was gone and in its place was the smallest spare I think I've ever seen in my life. It looked like a stroller wheel.

From the general condition of the car and the fact that the engine wouldn't idle without you repeatedly revving it, I'm guessing that teensy tiny cute little miniature tire has been there for much longer than its intended purpose. And yes, it's impressive that I could hear the engine over the stereo. How is it people can afford these crazy loud speakers but they can't afford a tire? Is damaging your hearing and disturbing the peace really more important than your safety and the safety of other motorists on the road with you?

That itty bitty spare is precious but when it comes flying off your car at 70 miles per hour (I feel safe in assuming you don't realize you're not supposed to drive faster than about 40 mph with a 'donut'... or drive on it for 6 months) it can cause significant damage if it hits another car. Might even kill someone if it goes through a windshield. Fuck other people though. They don't matter. You and your shitty stereo are more important than anything else on the road.

I bet you're the kind of person who spends money on those stupid animated ringtones they advertise during "Teen Mom 2." You know you are. You text your name to the 5-digit number to see what your "Jersey Shore" nickname should be. You can afford $50 a month in extra phone bill fees for Miss Cleo tarot updates on your iPhone but you can't buy a tire for the clapped-out tin can you're driving.

You know something? Your crap tunes and POS car are easy to overlook. It's what you did at the stoplight that made my jaw drop. You and your passenger have small penises or your parents didn't give you enough attention as children. How do I know? I saw you both giving the stink-eye to the Range Rover.

The dirty looks just didn't satisfy you and your passenger though. No. You needed to make a point to that Range Rover because something about it made you mad. Made you jealous? Filled you with rage because it forced you to confront your personal misgivings?

So your passenger, in a move of pure class, deliberately extended his arm as far out the window as he could and flicked his cigarette at the Range Rover. SUCCESS! His cigarette did indeed hit the Range Rover although I doubt its millisecond of contact was enough to mar the paint. Aww shucks. Your little expression of hate turned out to be impotent, just like you.

The Range Rover driver didn't seem to notice either. That must have stung. What were you hoping for from him? Did you think he'd see your point, whatever it was supposed to be, then get out and hand you the keys?

Do I sound like a snob? I shouldn't, because I'm not. I joke about it, but I sincerely am not totally stuck up. Hell, I used to have a hoopty.

I've had a few ugly, cheap cars in my day but they were dependable. That was all I could afford at the time because I do this thing called "living within my means." That's where people spend their money responsibly. It isn't too hard either. Basically, you just refrain from buying non-essentials if you can't afford them.

Smart phones, cigarettes, speaker amps, animated ring-tones, satellite TeeVee and bling bling are non-essentials. A car in good mechanical order and safe tires are essentials. Shocking, I know. It is so simple! Why doesn't everyone do it? That's what I'd like to figure out. So you tell me.

In the cases of these individuals, I think it's safe to consider things like birth control pills, condoms and surgical sterilization as essentials. Top priority essentials even.

I realize no one is perfect. Perfection is not expected. But come the fuck on! There is no excuse for this particular brand of bullshit. Is there? Can it be justified? Try to explain this to me, I am honestly interested. I refuse to believe it is easily dismissed as 'stupid people.' There's got to be something more to it, right?

I'm looking for a cure. Humanity deserves better than this and without a cure, we're doomed because the douchebags are reproducing at a feverish rate... Meanwhile truly responsible and upstanding gay would-be parents are denied the opportunity to adopt or foster on a daily basis.

And people wonder why I'm a misanthrope?! Ugh. This is the part where I build a bridge and get over it.

Maura and the Big Fat Horror

Do you know Maura Kelly? I didn't until today when my bestie Lisa posted a Jezebel link about her on FB. Maura stepped in a big fat pile of shit with a recent blog she wrote for Marie Claire.

Turns out Maura thinks "fatties" are disgusting. Granted, she later apologized but... not really.

This isn't the first time a chick rag has gone there. Cosmo does it all the time with their absurd diet tips peppered through issue after issue. I cancelled my sub to W magazine years ago when they ran the Nan Kempner story with a pull out of her quote, "I hate fat people."

Later that same week, I cancelled my sub to Elle magazine for a similar reason, although I don't recall now what the specific story was. Seems like it was E. Jean's column...

You know how hard it is for a makeup/accessories/fashion junkie like me to swear off all the mainstream girlie mags? I haven't touched a Glamour in years. And their constant fat bashing is why. I'm not going to give my money to any pub that preaches hate or discrimination. Note to advertisers, you might pick your placements a little more carefully. We're watching you.

There's a light in the dark though. -evil grins-

How about Twitter search results with THOUSANDS of tweets speaking out against Maura Kelly's unabashed size discrimination. Not just size acceptance peeps either. Folks from every walk of life were appalled. Men, women, all ages, all colors, all sizes, from all over the world. The message was clear - fat hate isn't going to be tolerated.

If you're looking for some excellent new people to liven up your Twitter stream, you'll find them. I found several. (Thanks Maura! ~winks~)

Reality check... We still have a long way to go. I saw an article this week about size discrimination in the workplace. But stories revealing the truth about manipulated images in magazines give me hope that fat bashing will cease to be socially acceptable someday.

Maura, I hope you can come to terms with your self-loathing. I know this experience is going to set you back a little but as a journalist, you should have thought it through better. Learn from it. Learn that no one is "disgusting" because of how they look. Learn that you're not "disgusting" because of how you look either.

Actions on the other hand... sometimes actions are disgusting and your 'Mike & Molly' blog was an example of that.

If you ever want to feel better about yourself and the way you look, my advice to you is stop reading magazines like Marie Claire.

An indication that you've had enough.

You're right. It's all Obama's fault. The economy, the war, illegal immigration, the environment, broken health care system. All him. He writes all the legislation on his own, and he passes it on his own and those 535 people we call "Congress" don't actually do anything except read scripts given to them by Obama. There were no other people in office prior to Obama who made mistakes either. He's the only one who has ever fucked up ever ever.

In fact, he lies awake at night, scheming on ways to destroy our country and take away our guns and make us all slave vegan Muslims.

We the people have zero responsibility in this. None of us have borrowed money we couldn't pay back and spent it on things we didn't need. None of us live beyond our means. We are all highly informed voters who base our decisions on issues instead of blindly following flawed party lines and we show up at the polls for elections on every level and we diligently communicate with our lawmakers both to express our needs and to monitor their actions, demanding ethical conduct. We get our information from trusted neutral sources like the Library of Congress and VoteSmart.org.

We never start frivolous lawsuits after doing stupid shit to ourselves and tie up the courts and waste tax dollars. Not us! We're all fully accountable for our actions and the actions of our children. We would never blame someone else for our own mistakes, indifference or neglect.

We never try to pass or support legislation based on religious bias or our own personal selfish agendas and all of us who are able to work do work and we never defraud the system. We never try to force our personal beliefs on those around us.

We the people are perfect and innocent and that evil man in the White House is completely to blame. Him and him alone. Oh no, we cannot place responsibility on any of our local, state or federal lawmakers or ourselves. We are all merely helpless pawns in Obama's grand plan to ruin the world.

And I would never have come to this liberating realization without all the endless forwarded emails I receive and never ever try to verify because I fully accept them as fact by reasoning that if it's good enough to press the "Fwd" button, the person who sent it clearly did their homework.

If there is a single person reading this blog right now who failed to immediately recognize all of the above as pure and bitter sarcasm, please click that little "X" up in the corner and you'll be promptly redirected to a website perfectly suited for your level of intelligence.

And so help me gawd if I receive this, my own message, in the future as a forwarded email framed to represent researched facts and edited to omit my disclosure, I will see to it that the current sender and all senders before them die in a mysterious fire. The headlines will say "Homo-loving pot-smoking meat-eating baby-killing freedom-hating psychotic fat atheist bitch locks dozens of respected bigots in local church and torches it!"

Wow. I feel a lot better now.

Your Fluff Welcome Here

"Aw, look, poor thing, they won't let her shop. Yeah - like those salesgirls in Beverly Hills aren't bigger whores than she is." ~ Romy White, "Romy and Michele's High School Reunion" (1997)

I bet more than just fluffies can relate to this:

You show up to an establishment you've never visited only to discover you're a fish out of water, like a group of Mennonites at a frat boy's bachelor party.

In my experiences, it involved discovering the hard way that a certain biz was either not fat-friendly or straight up fat-intolerant. Not naming names *cough*cough* The Plaza *cough*cough* but I have stumbled across a few such places and it never fails to surprise, disappoint and incense me.

As a gesture of consideration to my chunky brethren and... uhhh... sisteren? (That's not a real term is it? Pfft. Do over! See next sentence.) In support of mah fat peeps and their sizes-other-than-fat family and friends, I would like to give those living in or planning to visit my adopted home town of KCMO a little guidance to the more chub-accessible attractions.

Noms... this city has some good ones. Nice variety too, if you can tolerate the irritating lack of good Cajun food.

Asian food:

Saigon 39

According to some reviews, they serve substandard pho. I like pho but that isn't why I go to Saigon 39. Their chicken fried rice is wake-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-craving-it good and if you like peanut sauce, theirs is superb (but pricey).

Fat Tolerant: Has tables with metal chairs and booths. Chairs do not have arms and booth tables are not affixed. Crowd is always a mixed bag but not too teen-infested. Restroom is spacious. Staff is polite but don't show up close to closing time because you may have to get it to go.

Minuses: Not really wheelchair accessible and parking can be a bitch during peak hours.

*LGBT Friendly Bonus Points

Asian Tiger

Super yummy traditional and modern sushi, ah-mah-zing pan dishes and one of the best non-bar cocktail menus in town.

Fat Friendly: Has tables with wood chairs and booths. Chairs do have arms but they are wide-set and only partially the length of the seat. Booth tables are not affixed and seats are comfortable. Charming, pleasant usually-quiet atmosphere. Haven't seen a big group of teens dining unsupervised there yet, which is a Buffie-Bonus. Staff is polite and respectful. Wheelchair accessible.

Mexican food:

Pancho's

Simple but satisfying and inexpensive menu. Very casual local chain with 24/7 drive thru windows.

Fat Tolerant: I admit, I almost never dine in at Pancho's because drive-thru rocks and I'm always in a hurry. I view drive-thrus at places that aren't national chains as a nod (intentional or not) to the chunky monkey customer. The location I frequent has fixed-table booths only. I can squeeze into a booth if I can't avoid getting take out but it isn't comfortable. Staff is polite and respectful.

Minuses: The location on Main is not the best place to be for people traveling alone after dark. Have had close-encounters of the potentially intoxicated/violent/generally criminal kind one too many times in that area.

Sol Azteca (now called Sabor Y Sol)

I haven't been since they remodeled but I have it on good authority that it's the same management and menu, which leans Tex-Mex. *giddy* Excellent price/portion ratio and leftovers heat up beautifully for lunch the next day.

*UPDATE*  I've been to Sabor Y Sol a couple times since they re-opened and it's everything Sol Azteca was and more.  They now have made-fresh-when-you-order-it guacamole that will land your ass in rehab.  The interior is much brighter now.  Tables and chairs are still fat-friendly.  Staff is great.  FOOD IS INCREDIBLE and more than reasonably priced.

Fat Friendly: Has tables with metal chairs and booths. Booth tables are not affixed but the spacing can be tight depending on how busy they are. Ladies' room is spacious. Wheelchair accessible. Staff is polite and respectful.

American noms, like burgers and steaks, yo:

Courthouse Exchange

Best freaking burger on earth next to OKC's Belle Isle Brewery Honey Pepper Bacon Burger. Onion rings so incredible they won over notorious hater of onions, Mr. Buffie.

Fat Tolerant: It's down a flight of stairs in the basement of a historic building, so it's totally not wheelchair accessible. Has tables with wood chairs and booths. I think some of the booth tables may be affixed but I don't remember. Crowd is adult but can be lively later in the evening. Ladies' room is spacious. Staff is polite and respectful.

Hereford House

It's a KC staple known for incredible steak. Pricey but if you're craving a /real/ steak, it sooo fits the bill.

Fat Tolerant: I only rate it a "Tolerant" and not a "Friendly" because the staff (usually just the hostesses) can be on the rude teen/mean girl side. Has tables and booths. I think some booths have affixed tables. Crowd is sometimes overly yuppie but that's at every "classy" steak joint, right? Ladies' room is spacious. Wheelchair accessible.

Barbeque, (spelled the right way - with a q) also known as BBQ:

Rosedale Barbeque

This was my first experience with KC BBQ and it was love at first bite. Beef sammichs, ribs, burnt ends (which is a clever but unjust term for delicious chunks of smoked brisket), cole slaw and the most sinful french fries in nom history. Definitely has a "dive joint" vibe but isn't filthy gross or anything like that. Respectable selection of very cold beers.

Fat Friendly: Has tables with metal chairs that generously outnumber the fixed-table booths. Ladies' room is spacious. Wheelchair accessible. Staff is polite and respectful.

BB's Lawnside BBQ

Hybrid restaurant and blues bar that has, of all things, an amazing meatloaf dinner on the menu. Also try the BBQ nachos... yes NACHOS! Bar has both liquor and beer for those who prefer a cocktail instead of a brew with their smoked meats.

Fat Friendly: Family style tables with an assortment of metal chairs. Crowd is varied but never teen heavy. Ladies' room is spacious. Wheelchair accessible. Staff is polite and respectful.

Multifariousness for the multifattieousness...

More noms:

Waldo Pizza

I am generally NOT a fan of pizza but I am coo coo crazy for Waldo Pizza. My fave is a spicy beef and sun dried tomato pizza with honey-wheat crust and extra sauce. The ultimate combination of savory, cheesy, sweet, hot, crusty and chewy. Westport Room special ranch dressing contains crack, I'm pretty sure. Never tried to actually shoot up with it but the idea has crossed my mind. Impressive beer/liquor selection. This ain't your average Chuck E. Cheese folks.

Fat Friendly: Has tables with wood chairs and booths. I'm not 100% sure but I think the booths have fixed-tables. Crowd can attract teens and kids because pizza seems to have that effect but I have never been disturbed to the point of panic. Ladies' room is spacious. Wheelchair accessible. Staff is polite and respectful.

*LGBT Friendly Bonus Points

Movies:

Tivoli Cinemas

Mostly independent films. Some of my favorite movies I've watched here.

Fat Friendly: Theaters are on the 2nd floor but there's an elevator. Smaller size means every seat has a great view. Wheelchair accessible. Staff is wonderfully polite and respectful.

Minuses: Seats are older and on the small side but I'm able to wedge myself into them without much discomfort. Sit in the back if you need to stand up a couple times during the flick so you don't block the view of the people behind you. Decent leg room despite the seat width.

*LGBT Friendly Bonus Points

Bars:

Knucklehead's

If you're from KC and you long for the old Grand Emporium, Knucklehead's is a most suitable substitute and a regular Candye Kane tour stop. Blues, beer, liquor and noms. What else do you need?

Fat Friendly: Totally mixed bag of tables, chairs and booths. Crowd is fun but mature. No fratmosphere. Wheelchair accessible. Staff is polite and respectful.

Missie B's

Gay bar featuring delightful drag shows with unforgettable emcee - Dirty Dorothy.

Fat Friendly: Tables with regular chairs and bar stools. Ladies' room is spacious. Staff is polite and respectful, and in Dorothy's case, family.

*LGBT Friendly Bonus Points - Duh, obviously! LoL

Glamorousness:

Blo Salon Studio

If you think I have awesome hair, and I do (not bragging, just saying) then go to Blo and get some, too!

Fat Friendly: Salon seats have arms but they're wide set. Restroom is spacious. Wheelchair accessible. Staff is polite and respectful when it counts and devilishly hilarious the rest of the time.

*LGBT Friendly Bonus Points

Oasis Tan

Shut up, I know excessive tanning is supposed to be harmful, dangerous, whatever. I know, I know. But I don't overdo it and I cheat with spray tans. Speaking of spray tans, they have VersaSpa, and it's kickass.

Fat Tolerant: Variety of beds feature some larger, more spacious models. There is a weight limit and the staff I've dealt with answered my weight-limit questions professionally and respectfully. VersaSpa booth easily accommodates BBWs and most SSBBWs. Restroom is spacious. Wheelchair accessible. Staff is primarily young women who don't give off that "mean girl" vibe at all. That is a rare find in a tanning salon.

Shopping:

Mary Kay

Skin care and cosmetics that will rock your socks.

You know I had to put MK on my list. Hello! The consultant comes to /you/. Does it get more fat friendly than that!?

Lia Sophia

High quality costume jewelry sold via home parties. Like MK, LS consultants bring the shopping to you. Many of their necklaces are extra-long. Measurements for necklaces and bracelets are listed, eliminating the guesswork when it comes to fit.

And those are a few of my favorite things. By no means is this list complete. I would imagine there are many more fat friendly/tolerant places to haunt in the KC area and as I encounter them, I'll gladly share what I find.

Peace, fluff and equality,

~Buffie

When Bad Weekends Happen to Good Buffies

Last weekend was probably the worst damn string of events ever to happen to me. Or at least the worst that could happen without anyone dying.

But I learned something.

And it really wasn't "worth it". (How is "worth it" determined anyway?)

Friday night, for reasons I don't feel like discussing, I had to attend a high school football game. This involved 3 things I really fucking hate.

Outside.

Football.

Teenagers.

Some people are sexist. Some people are homophobic. Some people are elitist. Some people are racist.

Buffie is teen-ist.

I think that's a made-up word, but I don't know the real word for a person who hates teenagers as much as I do. Even when I was one, I hated it. You know why I hated it? Because of other teenagers.

I've said this before, but I'd rather face off with all of the Taliban on a bad turban day than have to spend 5 minutes with a person between the ages of 13 and 19.

Is it wrong of me to think like that? Yeah.

But you know what was MORE wrong??? How those fucking bastards treated me when I was a kid. So I feel like I have bloody earned the right to hate teenagers. I have also earned the right to hate frat pukes and other people who generally behave badly in public and in the presence of a fat person. All of them can go eat a scoop full of rat turds.

There were thousands of the sons of bitches there. One screamed in my face, completely unprovoked, and thought it was funny. Mr. Buffie considered knocking him the fuck out for a moment but thought better of it, what with the possibly going to the jail for the assault and all.

Poor Mr. Buffie. I practically rode him piggy-back all the way through the crowd. He had to hold onto both of my hands to assure himself I wouldn't randomly start smacking the ones who got too close to me.

You'd be proud of me though. I survived an entire 30 minutes before making a wild dash to the car and I didn't hit, poke, choke, kick, trip, shoot or shove a single one of them. I might have maybe kinda sorta perhaps accidentally shoulder checked a couple, but hey... you get in my space, I'll get in yours. Turn about is fair play, yes?

Mostly fair play.

They shoulder check me with a wimpy little piece of shit teen shoulder. I shoulder check back mad-fat-chick style and teen asshole spins like a top. I win! hee hee

Did I mention I have had bronchitis for two solid weeks? At the time I didn't know it was a flare up of bronchitis. I thought I was just really effing sick with the cold from hell and my mood was certainly not improved through abuse of NyQuil and obscene amounts of hot tea and whiskey. So let's add that to the weekend I hope goes down in history as the worst there ever was.

That sums up my Friday night.

Saturday I spent in a stupor, tissues shoved up my nostrils and a pillow over my face wishing for all the congestion in my head and chest to either turn to sand or explode and end my misery.

Lying down was completely futile because all the fluid nastiness in me made it impossible to breathe, meaning I got about 3 hours of actual sleep Saturday night.

Then there were the convulsive coughing fits that shook the foundation of my house and made me feel like I would literally pull the Kleenex away from my mouth only to see a chunk of my lung on it.

Now the sickness and the teenagers were really quite enough to make my weekend a total waste of time but ... unfortunately ... that wasn't all.

Guess what I got to do Sunday morning??!!

Wake up early.

Isn't that cute? A foul, snarling, snorting swamp beast being jerked out of slumber after only 3 hours of sleep.

Guess why!!?!?

To go to CHURCH!

Know what happens when you wake up a grumpy, ill, atheist, put her in uncomfortable "church" clothes and make her sit through the most awkward and dreary two hours of "I done so wrong and Jeeesus is pissed but he loves me anyways 'n I shure don't deserve it, oh Lawd, can you puhleeze fergive me and now let me sing to you some of the most depressing music you'll ever hear"?????

My Sunday. That's what you get.

I never understood why someone would be "militant" about something. That's why, even though I feel the way I do about religion, I would never ever in a million billion years have considered becoming a militant atheist.

Well, now I get it. I SOOOO totally get it.

Militant atheists probably don't get invited to church by their friends and family.

The dear people who invited us to church on this particular day, they mean the world to me. This certain day was extra special for one of them and they said it was so important to them for us to be there.

These same dear people asked me point blank, back in 2001, what church I attended. I politely explained I didn't. They wanted to know why. So I told them why. They said, "oh, that's alright, everyone is different."

I took that to mean they understood how I felt about church. I felt confident that I had explained my position on religion. For all I knew, on that day, it was made perfectly clear that myself and these wonderful people had different upbringings, different views and we were still cool with each other.

But over 8 years and a number of denied requests to attend church later... I'm starting to wonder if they didn't get the point.

Both of them were made aware back in 2001 that I was not looking for God but if I ever changed my mind, they'd be the first to know. Both of them assured me there would be no pressure. No attempts to convert me.

For the most part, they've stuck to that agreement. However, I have to wonder. Why keep inviting me to church???

It isn't like something happens there that a person like me wouldn't experience in Jesus-free settings. If I want to hear weepy awful music sang by a pleasant but off-key group of seniors in robes, I would go to a nursing home and host a singin-in-the-shower karaoke contest.

(BTW, why does there always have to be that one church lady who thinks she missed her calling to be on the stage of an opera as the star soprano and now she takes it out on everyone else in the church choir?) Whhaaaaaaaaaaaa Jeeeeeesssssuuuuuuuussssssss whaaaaaaaaaooooooaaaaa!!!!! Haaaaalllll-aaaaaaa-llllllooooooo-yyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!! *BANG* (That's me, shooting myself in the ear.)

If I wanted coffee and donuts before a meeting where people cry, I would join a group therapy session that takes morning appointments.

If I wanted to sit in an uncomfortable chair while someone stands in front of me telling me how I do bad shit but they love me anyway, I'd go home, do something to piss off my mum then perch on a stool covered in thumb-tacks and listen to her chew my ass.

If I wanted to have my already suffering sinuses be put through torture by the smell of old, mothballs, furniture polish, dried flowers and too much stanky perfume, I'd visit Hobby Lobby on senior discount day on a July afternoon when the store a/c isn't working.

See? No church needed to experience any of the same church-things and I can do all of that shit minus Jesus stories... which in my opinion don't make a damn bit of sense anyway.

I don't know what Jesus really said. He didn't write any of that stuff in the bible. Other people did. And just as sure as I'm relating to you now the wretched things I went through this past weekend, if Mr. Buffie wrote the same story (cuz he was there through it all) I fucking assure you, his spin would be different than mine. So why should I have to trust what other uneducated people wrote down about shit they didn't understand in a time when there was no scientific thought put into much of anything and read a version of it that has been translated who-the-fuck-knows how many times by people who may or may not have been sticklers for accuracy and believe it's not only true but the like pinnacle of all truth in life? Uhm, no thanks.

Hey, if YOU wanna believe it, do it. More power to you. Oh please be my guest. And believe it with all your heart. Just don't ask me to believe it with you. Besides, your faith isn't affected by how I think, so don't worry about what is going to happen to my soul when I die. I'm not.

Now these people who invite me to church on a not-infrequent basis, they're usually rather understanding (as they should be) when I say no. They kind of make a squishy face and pretend to have momentarily forgotten the whole "Buffie doesn't do Jesus" thing. But lo and behold, they'll invite me again in another 6 months and we go through the confounded awkward mess all over again.

This one time though... I thought dammit, maybe they'll leave me the hell alone if I go just this once, and it should count in spades since it's a special occasion and all. Maybe this will make them happy and it'll be over with. I can consider it my good deed for the DECADE.

But no. No, no, no. Not not but no. Hell to tha no.

Now that I've gone this one time to appease them, I've been invited to come back by all the nice people there and even my dear (and I really don't say that sarcastically, I freaking love these people) friends (they're actually family) are inviting me again.

Listen, friends (technically relatives, but whatever, I consider you friends, too)... I adore you. I truly do. You're two of my favorite people in this whole world and I'd do damn near anything for you. Shit, I have gone to church for you. I'd almost rather set myself on fire than go to church, so appreciate that gesture for what it was. But ya gotta get it through your heads. This isn't something I care to repeat. Ever. I told you before, if I change my mind, I'll be all up in yer churchin. But that day hasn't come and if I were you, I wouldn't hold my breath.

I know you two love Jesus and I am positive Jesus loves ya right back. I realize church is a huge part of your lives, but it isn't the ONLY life you have. Like it or not, we're family. That means I'm part of your lives, too. And you're both a big part of mine. A part I love and cherish. We do tons of stuff together and we have a blast and the other stuff we do doesn't make one of us horrendously uncomfortable. Can't we just keep doing those things? Why does it have to be church?

Tell you what, if you're going to insist on inviting me to church, I'm going to start inviting you to blues concerts and burlesque shows. I know loud music and scantily clad chicks shaking their asses isn't your thing but tit for tat, hey?

I'll even trade you one for one. For every time you go to a dive bar or a nudie show with me, I'll go to a meeting of the God Squad with you. Fair?

Getting my point now?

That's what I thought.

Since being a militant atheist isn't really my style, I'll just return your church invitations with requests for you to join me for cheeseburgers at the Shady Lady or I'll ask you to a Rumblejetts show.

Because I know you two love naked tits and raucous jams as much as I love bible time. (Holy shit! This blog is long.)

In the end, I learned that if only my weekend had more strippers, beer and rockabilly music, and less teens and apostles, it probably wouldn't have sucked such a huge bag of dicks.