Amanda Bynes just got caught again, driving with a suspended license. Randy Travis naps in the street. Lindsey Lohan, well, do we really need to discuss her?
Where is the law that says when you become famous you have to lose your mind? And why are there so many famous people who do? Look, to be fair, most people can handle fame and fortune just fine. We never hear about most of them doing the things that keep the tabloids in business. But there is an ever growing group of famous people who are just crazy!
My first concern is the cheating. I mean really, if Jennifer Aniston, Halle Berry, and Sandra Bullock can all be cheated on, what chance is there for the rest of us? These are HOT, rich, talented women! They make millions, look amazing, have jobs that, let's face it, kick ass. They can sweep you away on a whirlwind vacation, buy you the new car (or boat, or house, or city) you've been dreaming of, introduce you to the most amazing people you could possibly imagine, and pay people to make them look fabulous the whole time. Perfect woman, right? You would think so, but no. Apparently, to a man, even these women are just not quite good enough. If only she were what? A little richer, a little prettier, a little more famous? What? What do you need, guys?
My main concern, though is famous people who insist on driving. Badly. While drunk. What the hell, people? I tell you now, the day I strike it rich, I hire three people. One to clean up after me (and hell, before me, too), one to cook for me, and one whose whole job will be to drive my ass around. I might sit up front with them, but I won't drive again! I will drink all day, party all night, and that damn driver better be right there to take me down to the Speedway for an Icee! Now!
And then they have the balls to complain about being famous. That really irks me. "I can't go to the grocery store without seeing myself on the cover of a magazine!" Wow, that must really suck. Your beautifully airbrushed self staring at your at home self. I honestly don't know how they can live that way. Not. Here's what I really honestly don't know: what the hell they're doing at the grocery store! Send your chef to pick up the food for you! Your driver can take him! They can get you an Icee on the way home!
And to complain about people recognizing you in public! Really? Isn't that the whole definition of being famous? Isn't that what you were striving for in the first place? How dare the people (who put you where you are) insist on an autograph! Or, heaven forbid, a picture! Can't they see you are busy driving yourself around town to look for magazine covers? The nerve! Let me tell you a secret, famous people: recognition is good. It means you are doing your job. Get over yourself, smile, wave, and be grateful you achieved your goal! Someday you will be a has-been, and will treasure the moments you had. Ask the has-beens. They will tell you.
And now we have a whole group of people who are famous just for being themselves and letting people follow them around with cameras. Wow. Who knew that would be a marketable skill back when we were all in college? Wasted time and money. Just forget to put on your pants when you leave the house, you can be set for life! These people don't seem as snobby when they are caught out in public. In fact, they seek it. Maybe the real famous people can take a lesson or two. I for one know way too much about what's happening in New Jersey for my own personal comfort. And if I see one more toddler in a tiara, I might just puke.
Regular readers know my opinion of famous people getting involved in politics. Fine if you believe in who you are helping, but don't tell us how to vote! That's one really cool thing about the not famous people: Our vote counts just the same as theirs does! So enough of that.
I guess the crazy famous people are really just doing their job. I mean, it is pretty entertaining. Once you get past the pity, I mean. But train wrecks draw a crowd just as easily as random acts of knidness do, I guess. Maybe easier. So I guess I owe you an apology, crazy famous people. You are truly entertainment for the masses, and doing a bang up job. Carry on. And if your totally screwed up life makes mine look that much better by comparison, well, I guess that's just the way it will have to be. Until I get famous. Then, we'll talk.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Road Rage
I just watched a video on Yahoo of a driver who, instead of waiting for the school bus to move, drove down the sidewalk to get past. Yes, you read that right, drove down the sidewalk. To avoid waiting for the school bus. Apparently, this driver had done this before, the bus driver filmed it and showed the police. They set up a "sting" and caught her in the act. Bus driver: normally, having your phone out while driving a bus would be cause for alarm, but since you were obviuosly parked, I say Genius! Who would have thought to record such thoughtless behavior to show the police? Great thinking! To the police: Thank you for taking this bus driver seriously. And for hiding down the block and waiting to catch the offender. Great job! This is the kicker, though. The sidewalk driver is probably angry with both of you right now for messing up her morning. Probably mad at a lot of people. Probably mad at everybody in the world except the one person who is to blame. Herself.
We have become a nation of rude drivers. (Rude people, actually, but that's another story.) And it all boils down to one attitude: that where you are going is more important than where I am going. That stop sign or speed limit? Those are for everybody else, not you. You are important. You have places to be. You couldn't get your ass out of bed this morning and are going to be late for work. You don't have time to wait for that school bus, you have to go!
This particular school bus is apparently for kids with some different needs. The driver had to help the kid at this stop onto the bus because of a wheel chair. Is this going to take a little longer? I would assume so. But as my co-worker said "Why not just go around the block and avoid that part of the street altogether?" I realized there are quite a few simple solutions to this driver's problem. None of which involve sidewalk driving. Leave the house 5 minutes earlier. Leave the house 5 minutes later. Yes, adjust your route. Bring some coffee, and enjoy the wait time to drink it and prepare for your day. (In this case, maybe decaf. This one seems to have some jitter issues already.) Listen to Bob and Tom and enjoy a laugh while you wait. Ever hear of books on tape? Use the time to focus on how to stop being a self-centered bitch. Just a few, off the top of my head. But don't plow over pedestrians because the wheelchair ridden child takes too long to get on the bus! Have some compassion, people!
A few years back, a main road in our town had some construction going on. Lanes were closed, new stoplights were put up, new rules were put into play. The first was the "No Right Turn On Red" sign at the end of the highway exit ramp. There was a temporary wall up, and you couldn't see what was coming. As I was waiting for the light to turn green, the older woman behind me started beeping the horn furiously, making rude hand gestures. What? You're in a hurry to get home and wait for death? So I pointed to the sign and waited. She continued beeping. I wish I had thought of it, I would have put the car in park and walked back to her, as the light turned green, and given her a reading lesson. I'm not confrontational by nature, though. So I didn't come up with that one until I was already home. Too bad.
At another intersection with a stoplight, they actually had to put up huge orange signs saying "Do Not Block Intersection." I was amazed! They must not make signs that say "Don't be a dick." But again, when the light turned green and I didn't immediately pull forward to block the intersection, a different older lady showed her annoyance with her horn. I again pointed at the big ass sign, at which point I saw her in the rearview mirror calling me a "stupid bitch." Or maybe she was wearing "shoes that itch" or likes to eat "soup and pitch." But it looked a lot like "stupid bitch" to me. And to 6 year old "Leroy" in the back seat. It was that day I heard what may be my favorite words from this child.
"Mom, can I flip her off?"
"Well, dear, the correct question is 'May I flip her off?' And the answer is yes. Yes you may."
I don't know about everyone else, but when I'm in a new driving situation, I look for signs to tell me where to go. I also look to see what the other, more experienced people are doing. If a sign tells me to stay in line or pull here and wait or stop or not park here, I do what the sign tells me. If there is a line of cars waiting for the same thing I am, I go to the end of the line. Common sense, no? Apparently, no! Every day I see drivers go right when the sign says left, cut to the front of the line, block things they shouldn't block. (Parking spaces? Really? You think it's OK to pull sideways in front of multiple parked cars and get out of the car? They don't need to leave?) All because they are more important than me. I'm sure these are the same douchebags who take the full cart to the u-scan line. And show up 15 minutes late to every appointment they have every day. Although I'm sure that last one isn't their fault. You know, that bus was in the way and all.
We have become a nation of rude drivers. (Rude people, actually, but that's another story.) And it all boils down to one attitude: that where you are going is more important than where I am going. That stop sign or speed limit? Those are for everybody else, not you. You are important. You have places to be. You couldn't get your ass out of bed this morning and are going to be late for work. You don't have time to wait for that school bus, you have to go!
This particular school bus is apparently for kids with some different needs. The driver had to help the kid at this stop onto the bus because of a wheel chair. Is this going to take a little longer? I would assume so. But as my co-worker said "Why not just go around the block and avoid that part of the street altogether?" I realized there are quite a few simple solutions to this driver's problem. None of which involve sidewalk driving. Leave the house 5 minutes earlier. Leave the house 5 minutes later. Yes, adjust your route. Bring some coffee, and enjoy the wait time to drink it and prepare for your day. (In this case, maybe decaf. This one seems to have some jitter issues already.) Listen to Bob and Tom and enjoy a laugh while you wait. Ever hear of books on tape? Use the time to focus on how to stop being a self-centered bitch. Just a few, off the top of my head. But don't plow over pedestrians because the wheelchair ridden child takes too long to get on the bus! Have some compassion, people!
A few years back, a main road in our town had some construction going on. Lanes were closed, new stoplights were put up, new rules were put into play. The first was the "No Right Turn On Red" sign at the end of the highway exit ramp. There was a temporary wall up, and you couldn't see what was coming. As I was waiting for the light to turn green, the older woman behind me started beeping the horn furiously, making rude hand gestures. What? You're in a hurry to get home and wait for death? So I pointed to the sign and waited. She continued beeping. I wish I had thought of it, I would have put the car in park and walked back to her, as the light turned green, and given her a reading lesson. I'm not confrontational by nature, though. So I didn't come up with that one until I was already home. Too bad.
At another intersection with a stoplight, they actually had to put up huge orange signs saying "Do Not Block Intersection." I was amazed! They must not make signs that say "Don't be a dick." But again, when the light turned green and I didn't immediately pull forward to block the intersection, a different older lady showed her annoyance with her horn. I again pointed at the big ass sign, at which point I saw her in the rearview mirror calling me a "stupid bitch." Or maybe she was wearing "shoes that itch" or likes to eat "soup and pitch." But it looked a lot like "stupid bitch" to me. And to 6 year old "Leroy" in the back seat. It was that day I heard what may be my favorite words from this child.
"Mom, can I flip her off?"
"Well, dear, the correct question is 'May I flip her off?' And the answer is yes. Yes you may."
I don't know about everyone else, but when I'm in a new driving situation, I look for signs to tell me where to go. I also look to see what the other, more experienced people are doing. If a sign tells me to stay in line or pull here and wait or stop or not park here, I do what the sign tells me. If there is a line of cars waiting for the same thing I am, I go to the end of the line. Common sense, no? Apparently, no! Every day I see drivers go right when the sign says left, cut to the front of the line, block things they shouldn't block. (Parking spaces? Really? You think it's OK to pull sideways in front of multiple parked cars and get out of the car? They don't need to leave?) All because they are more important than me. I'm sure these are the same douchebags who take the full cart to the u-scan line. And show up 15 minutes late to every appointment they have every day. Although I'm sure that last one isn't their fault. You know, that bus was in the way and all.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Get outta my uterus!
I live in a really great town. Small enough to always see someone you know, big enough to have both a McDonalds and a Taco Bell. Those us us who live "in town" can walk pretty much everywhere we want to go. There are also a few big cities nearby, so we can keep up with the rest of the world, too. But even sleepy little towns sometimes have some drama. Lately ours has been political. A local leader has been accused of some not so honest business dealings. Of course, me being me, I can't just sit idly by and watch. I have to "use my words" and share my opinions. Which is cool and all, and I don't expect others to agree with my opinions always. Or ever. But in this instance, someone who does not agree with me called the situation a party wide conspiracy. (What? I don't party! Even when I was young and could party I really sucked at it!) Then she said it was obviously a Republican attempt to oust someone!
I have been called a lot of things in my life. Mom, sister, daughter, co worker, bitch, friend, hot, (just seeing if I could sneak that in there without anyone noticing), even by some awesome. But I have never been called a Republican! Other people's opinions normally don't bother me. But for some unknown reason, this complete stranger spreading this rumor about me has me upset! So my neighbor asked, OK what am I then? The truth is, I won't pick a party because I don't trust any of them. When I vote, and I do vote every time I can, I don't look at the letter behind a name. I vote with my conscience, my brain, my gut, and yes sometimes my uterus.
Let me first tell you why I personally feel the need to vote. Do you remember the miniseries "Roots?" We all saw it as kids, and sometimes the History Channel will show it again so we can watch it as adults. In the show, as I'm sure in real life, the owners seem to think they were doing their slaves a favor by allowing them to be here and work. They actually compare the slaves to livestock. Read this again. They see the human beings they bought and own as nothing more than an ox or cow. Something to do what you need done, then disposed of however you see fit. Yet these men had the right to vote a full 50 years before any women could. Fifty years our country allowed livestock to vote rather than their own mothers, sisters, wives, and daughters. Now don't misunderstand: I'm not condoning the treatment of people like livestock. (Although being treated like most family pets in America today would actually be a pretty good life). I am making the point here that we thought of our livestock better than we thought of our women. So, being a woman, I vote.
That's not to say everybody should vote. Yes, everybody should have the right to vote, but really, not everybody should excercise the right. Despite Puff Daddy or P Diddy or whatever the hell his name is this week telling everybody to vote or die, some people should just stay home. Who? The ones who don't do their homework. The ones who are voting for a person because their spouse, parent, employer, etc. told them to. The ones who vote based on lawn signs. Or commercials. Or what little letter is behind someone's name. These are the dangerous voters. The ones who are doing someone else's bidding because they don't know any better. The ones who blindly follow someone else because they don't know what's going on. The ones who believe what these idiots are saying!
My least favorite part of fall (and lately the summer, too) is the election propaganda. We have more than a month left before the election, and I still think I might scream if I hear the words "and I approve this message" on TV one more time! The mud slinging, the half truths and outright lies. The famous people talking like their opinion is supposed to mean something to me. It bites. All of it. I just want the bare bones minimum "what are you going to do" questions answered. To get there, we have to dig through 20 tons of bullshit, and it really isn't fair. It does make uneducated people think they know more than they do. It puts people in positions they should not hold. It makes us all weaker. And maybe just a little bit more ignorant. Certainly more confused.
I don't care how legitimate a rape is, my ovaries are not capable of shutting down just because I want them to. If this were the case, there would be no unwanted pregnancies. Ever. Obviously, there are. Every day. And how a woman deals with one is her business. Not mine, not the government's, and certainly not some uninformed men who don't know the basic workings of the human body. Hey, I'm not all up in your sperm, let's agree for you to stay out of my uterus! And really, you can think I'm a slut all day without ever having met me. That's fine. In your mind, I probably am. But don't let that opinion affect what healthcare I am entitled to. Or I might bring up the fact that some slut callers out there are actually drug addicts. Should that fact make you ineligible for treatment? I don't think so, but I'm just a woman. And a slut. And let me float this: if wanting safe and reliable birth control to be available to all who want it (you know, until we perfect that ovary shut down thing) makes me a slut, then this country is full of sluts. Your daughter, your sister, your mother, maybe even your grandmother. Sluts everywhere! Of all ages, colors, and creeds.
So I say Sluts Unite! Educate yourselves, vote, and stand up for what's right! Let's get these men out of our uterus! Unless you're stupid. Then just stay home.
I'm Jill Brown, and I approve this message.
I have been called a lot of things in my life. Mom, sister, daughter, co worker, bitch, friend, hot, (just seeing if I could sneak that in there without anyone noticing), even by some awesome. But I have never been called a Republican! Other people's opinions normally don't bother me. But for some unknown reason, this complete stranger spreading this rumor about me has me upset! So my neighbor asked, OK what am I then? The truth is, I won't pick a party because I don't trust any of them. When I vote, and I do vote every time I can, I don't look at the letter behind a name. I vote with my conscience, my brain, my gut, and yes sometimes my uterus.
Let me first tell you why I personally feel the need to vote. Do you remember the miniseries "Roots?" We all saw it as kids, and sometimes the History Channel will show it again so we can watch it as adults. In the show, as I'm sure in real life, the owners seem to think they were doing their slaves a favor by allowing them to be here and work. They actually compare the slaves to livestock. Read this again. They see the human beings they bought and own as nothing more than an ox or cow. Something to do what you need done, then disposed of however you see fit. Yet these men had the right to vote a full 50 years before any women could. Fifty years our country allowed livestock to vote rather than their own mothers, sisters, wives, and daughters. Now don't misunderstand: I'm not condoning the treatment of people like livestock. (Although being treated like most family pets in America today would actually be a pretty good life). I am making the point here that we thought of our livestock better than we thought of our women. So, being a woman, I vote.
That's not to say everybody should vote. Yes, everybody should have the right to vote, but really, not everybody should excercise the right. Despite Puff Daddy or P Diddy or whatever the hell his name is this week telling everybody to vote or die, some people should just stay home. Who? The ones who don't do their homework. The ones who are voting for a person because their spouse, parent, employer, etc. told them to. The ones who vote based on lawn signs. Or commercials. Or what little letter is behind someone's name. These are the dangerous voters. The ones who are doing someone else's bidding because they don't know any better. The ones who blindly follow someone else because they don't know what's going on. The ones who believe what these idiots are saying!
My least favorite part of fall (and lately the summer, too) is the election propaganda. We have more than a month left before the election, and I still think I might scream if I hear the words "and I approve this message" on TV one more time! The mud slinging, the half truths and outright lies. The famous people talking like their opinion is supposed to mean something to me. It bites. All of it. I just want the bare bones minimum "what are you going to do" questions answered. To get there, we have to dig through 20 tons of bullshit, and it really isn't fair. It does make uneducated people think they know more than they do. It puts people in positions they should not hold. It makes us all weaker. And maybe just a little bit more ignorant. Certainly more confused.
I don't care how legitimate a rape is, my ovaries are not capable of shutting down just because I want them to. If this were the case, there would be no unwanted pregnancies. Ever. Obviously, there are. Every day. And how a woman deals with one is her business. Not mine, not the government's, and certainly not some uninformed men who don't know the basic workings of the human body. Hey, I'm not all up in your sperm, let's agree for you to stay out of my uterus! And really, you can think I'm a slut all day without ever having met me. That's fine. In your mind, I probably am. But don't let that opinion affect what healthcare I am entitled to. Or I might bring up the fact that some slut callers out there are actually drug addicts. Should that fact make you ineligible for treatment? I don't think so, but I'm just a woman. And a slut. And let me float this: if wanting safe and reliable birth control to be available to all who want it (you know, until we perfect that ovary shut down thing) makes me a slut, then this country is full of sluts. Your daughter, your sister, your mother, maybe even your grandmother. Sluts everywhere! Of all ages, colors, and creeds.
So I say Sluts Unite! Educate yourselves, vote, and stand up for what's right! Let's get these men out of our uterus! Unless you're stupid. Then just stay home.
I'm Jill Brown, and I approve this message.
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