It bothers me a lot when someone says their first amendment right is being stifled if people are offended by their words/actions/beliefs. Because it's not. You can still have those words/actions/beliefs and you won't be thrown in prison for expressing those (at least 90% of the time- threatening a white person may get you in some trouble). And I also find it incredibly irksome when those same people who said/did/believe something vile are offended when their particular stance is deemed not politically correct.
Because if you are going to take offense at something being politically correct, you can't take offense when you are called exactly what you are: racist/sexist/asshole etc. It's a two way street people.
I'm not a "car person." see: just how "helpful" I can be and why I lost my car rights if you need further clarification. But in my defense, wait, no, scratch that. I really just don't care. Whatever. And dr soc isn't a car person either, but he is a hard core researcher. So when he studies or looks further into something I pretty much listen to what he says (unless it's navigation or spacial planning, that's my wheelhouse). When I test drove my corolla in 2010 and told him about it, I didn't think much of anything when he said "corollas are good cars."
And they are, Consumer Reports just rated it the best compact car. Anyway fast forward a year and a half later right after we see his ex-girlfriend in Kentucky, newly engaged and in town to look at wedding venues. We sit down for lunch and I'm still being super supportive and giggling at his discomfort. me: So that was K huh? dr soc: (sigh) Yeah, that silver corolla with the UGA plate. me: Wait - she drove a corolla? dr soc: Yeah (cringe) And, um, D also drove a silver corolla too. me:That's how you knew they were good cars!
What the ever loving fuck?
Assault riffles are military weapons whose soul purpose is to cause maximum harm and kill. KILL. Bullets fired from these weapons are designed to kill and they mutilate and destroy everything in their proximity. So why the ever loving fuck are these not dangerous according to lawmakers?
Why does anyone need an assault riffle? Honest to god, someone tell me a reason other than it's the 2nd amendment of in the constitution. A lot of things have changed in the past few hundred years since those amendments were created by a rich white male slave owners. And there was an amendment that didn't work either. Remember that whole alcohol was illegal thing? That was the 18th amendment of the Constitution. There were 2 more amendments added (#19: women get to vote! #20: the presidential term starts January 20 at noon) before #21 when white lawmakers said take backsies! on #18 because society was pretty much just a big 'ol mess. So it is possible to make and repeal amendments that reflect the times. Like #13 - lets make this slavery/owning people thing illegal. Or #22 - no one can be elected president more than twice so the same person doesn't stay in power indefinitely (looking at you FDR).
Once again, please give me a reason your right to own an assault riffle usurps the safety of the general public. Why must humanity suffer again and again from the fragility of masculine insecurity? (yes I know there are women who love guns and shooting too, but these mass murderers have been mostly white males) Even if you don't kill people with your assault riffle, does having that tool to kill innocents make you feel better? Does the ability to destroy countless others' sense of safety secure your own? Do you sleep better knowing your right to own a weapon will never replace all of the other lives destroyed by gun violence?
Give me a reason. Give the world a reason. We are owed a fucking reason.
Apparently the assault riffle used in the most recent (fuck, most recent. Let that sink in) school shooting was bought legally. But legal or illegal, why does anyone have an assault riffle in the first place? And why do NRA paid politicians give those same objects assault weapons more rights and protections than humans women and children?
This is the 18th school shooting for 2018. EIGHTEENTH. THIRTY-FIVE DAYS INTO THE YEAR.
I know once you start shouting you have lost your argument, but I don't know what else to do at this moment. This is becoming normal and IT SHOULDN'T BE NORMAL.
Selfishly I think: how do I protect my children? I can save my girl from a ladybug on the playground, but a bullet at school where I'm not? Maybe I should home school the kids so they don't have to be a victim of another (because there will be another) school shooting. Or buy them bullet proof vests with the rest of their school supplies. Do they make those in size 5T? (my girl is tiny-she may be that size by kindergarten) WHY DO I EVEN HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THIS?
Why does ANYONE WORRY ABOUT THIS? FIX THIS BULLSHIT.
So, I've already got something to hold over the this next kid's head. Also: thank god it was winter and my coat covers me to about mid thigh.
Before we were telling people I was expecting I was trying to hide (and usually failing) how miserable I felt at times. But other times...
Trigger warning: this is hilarious but disgusting.
We're out to lunch and my stomach/intestines were giving me first trimester nonsense. I went to the bathroom and sat to wait it out. After waiting for a while and nothing happening, everything happened. My stomach revolted and I had a half second to throw myself backwards, bend at the waist and I throw up all over myself. All. Over. I didn't take anything with me to the bathroom (because that's gross) so I was trapped.
I waited a few minutes until someone else came into the bathroom, and when they finished washing their hands I called out: "excuse me...Um, in the first stall here. Hi, I'm pregnant and I had a bit of an accident..."
I asked a stranger in the bathroom to find my husband (and daughter) in the restaurant, tell him I'm okay, but I need my purse and coat. I thank her profusely when she comes back bringing both, assure I'm okay and thank her again. In my purse I have a plastic bag (to throw up in though lot of good it did me there), wipes to clean up, and my phone to text Mike what the hell is going on.
In the next few minutes I get as much of my lunch off of my clothes into the toilet, bag up all my clothes, and wipe up what the clothes didn't "catch." I button my coat, pull up my knee socks (those were clean), and texted my husband: I'm leaving the bathroom now. I'll meet you at the car. Took a deep breath, grabbed my bags, put my head down and walked out of the McCalisters in justmy coat. We're pulling out of the parking lot when I get sick again and throw up out the window of the car. (sorry about that honey...but we're both really glad I made it out the window) And to add insult to injury, I still haven't done what I was waiting to do in the bathroom in the first place!
At home, I take a bath, everything eventually leaves my system in the privacy of my bathroom and I feel better okay enough. The kid takes a nap, and Mike and I settle on the couch to watch football. He asks how I'm doing and I ruefully say: that trench coat fantasy is not what it's cracked up to be.