The Elf On The Shelf, Watching Your Every Move



I have never had The Elf on the Shelf.  Frankly, it's creepy as hell.  I decided to find out exactly what it's about, so I checked elfontheshelf.com...

"The Elf on the Shelf® is a special scout elf sent from the North Pole to help Santa Claus manage his naughty and nice lists. When a family adopts an elf and gives it a name, the elf receives its Christmas magic and can fly to the North Pole each night to tell Santa Claus about all of the day's adventures. Each morning, the elf returns to its family and perches in a different place to watch the fun. Children love to wake up and race around the house looking for their elf each morning. There are two simple rules that every child knows when it comes to having an elf. First, an elf cannot be touched; Christmas magic is very fragile and if an elf is touched it may lose that magic and be unable to fly back to the North Pole. Second, an elf cannot speak or move while anyone in the house is awake! An elf's job is to watch and listen."

 

So basically your kid is being told that this creepy ass doll is there to stare at them.  Then it reports what you do to the guy who makes the naughty or nice list.  It's a spy and a rat.  It was bad enough when your parents said "if you're not good Santa will know".  Now we have "if you're not good the damn elf will go running to the North Pole to tell Santa because he's too lazy to watch you himself".     

 

Kids are encouraged to talk to their elves, especially to share secrets. The more the kids share, the more the elf can learn more about them. Telling the elf secrets seems to secure a space on the nice list.  And, it gives parents a place to put a voice-activated tape recorder to find out who really broke Mom's lamp.

 

And have you ever looked closely at the Elf on the Shelf?  His eyes seem to watch you.  Or hers.  Sorry, didn't mean to be sexist.  They are available as either boy elves or girl elves.  I don't even want to know if they're anatomically correct.  Kids remember everything you do wrong.  So if you don't move the damn elf during the night there will be hell to pay.  Because the elf would never go back to the same spot after running to the North Pole to be a tattle tale.  They'll also remember that the elf was 2 inches to the right of the candle, and will know if someone touched it during the day.

 

I remember when my daughter came home from kindergarten and said that leprechauns leave candy in kid's shoes on St. Patrick's Day.  Really.  I guess it's a good thing she told me.  I wanted her to believe in the wonderment so I kept putting candy in her smelly sneakers.  One Christmas Eve she started crying while she looked at the refrigerator.  "We have no carrots!" she sobbed.  I had to convince her that reindeer get carrots at every other house and that too many make them gassy.  So we should leave a salad instead so Santa wouldn't get farted on the whole trip (I know, I know, you don't have to say it).  That worked for her.  It also worked a few years later when we didn't have any milk and that Santa would like her best because she left him a beer (again, I know).      

 

The first Christmas my daughter really understood Santa she asked for a Barbie horse.  But it hadn't been on her list.  Oh no, that would have been too easy.  Instead she just told Santa.  I asked her what she'd told him and fortunately she told me about the damn horse.  She'd never mentioned this horse before, but that's what she wanted.  And nobody had it.  A stupid Barbie horse and nobody had it.  I called every single store I could think of within an hour of my house.  Found one 45 minutes away.  So I drove there as fast as I could and when I got there it was the wrong color.  But I got it anyway, hoping she'd forgotten which color she asked for.  She had forgotten which color, along with the fact that she even wanted one.  I think it was played with maybe twice.                

 

As parents you'll do anything to keep the magic alive.  Making footprints in the snow, leaving glitter behind, crumbs on the cookie plate, an empty beer bottle with a special note.  The Easter Bunny was always a messy eater so there were carrot pieces all over the floor.  But we want them to believe, to stay innocent for as long as they can.  So why do we need some commercial product to take the place of the magic we can make ourselves?     

 

Oh, and in case that's not enough there's now "The Elf on the Shelf: A Birthday Tradition".  Consider yourself warned. 

What Retail Employees Wish You Knew

With Black Friday and the holiday rush right around the corner I thought I'd take a moment to give you some things to keep in mind while you're shopping.  They're pretty basic things that a lot of people either never learned or have forgotten...

Retail employees on the front lines (cashiers, salespeople, customer assistance) are not in it to get rich.   Typically we get paid shit.  For some it's a second job, for others it's a way to make ends meet.  Remember that when you're dealing with us.  Yes, we get a discount.  Which we use to buy more stuff in the store.  

We have to ask you about credit cards.  We have to ask you a second time about credit cards.  Sometimes we have to ask a third time about credit cards.  We don't want to.  So be nice when we do.  "No, thank you" works well.  "I'm sure, thank you" also works well the second time we ask.  Complaining about the interest rates really doesn't work so well.  When in doubt, lie.  Yes you have the card.  Or both.  Or all.  We'll never make you prove it.   

Hang up your damn phone.  If you come up to the counter on the phone we understand.  As long as you put the phone down.  But if you come up to the counter and keep chatting away it really pisses us off.  We don't want to know that Becky told Steve that she likes Nick but she really likes Bobby.  And that Becky is a slut.  Ask the person on the other end to hold on for a moment while you spend 60 seconds at the register.  Unless it's a life threatening emergency.  Because if it's a life threatening emergency you probably don't need those skinny jeans.

Don't yell at us.  You have no idea how many times I've been yelled at in different customer service jobs.  We know we make mistakes (okay, maybe not me but others) so give us the chance to correct them.  We're not robots.  It's not our fault that we don't have bathing suits left in October.  Or that we don't carry the brand you're looking for.     

We are selling the products.  I do not go back into the warehouse and make it myself.  So don't bitch at me because something didn't work, or the quality was not what you expected.  Tell us the problem and we'll offer a solution or 2.  Yelling and screaming will get you nowhere.

Hand me the money.  Don't put it on the counter and slide it over.  And don't lick your fingers then count your money.  It's kinda gross to get your spit on the money right before you hand it to us.  And money has enough gross shit on it.   

The customer is not always right.  Sorry.  And if a customer says that it just makes it worse.  Yes, we're not perfect.  But neither are you.  So if you're an asshole we may find ourselves moving a little slower.  Petty, yes, but makes us feel a little better in a warped sort of way.

Don't walk up to a counter and say "I want to talk to a manager" and then refuse to say anything else.  Sometimes it's something we can help with and that will save you time.  If you really needs to talk to a manager it will only help you to have us explain it to them first.

The flip side is that sometimes we are limited in what we can do so we have to call a manager.  Understand that we are not doing it because we're trying to inconvenience you. 

Watch your kids.  Here's my "favorite" kid story.  Mom is in the store with her son, who was about 6 or 7.  He wanted candy and she said no.  So he spent the next 5 minutes screaming and telling her that she couldn't be his best friend anymore while he pulled clothes off the hangers.  Then Mom's phone rang.  She answered it and kept talking while browsing the racks.  After a couple of minutes I realized it was quiet.  And I didn't see the boy.  So I got concerned and walked around the racks.  There, behind the jeans, was the kid eating a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup.  When he finished he walked back to his mom, who smelled the candy.  She scolded him and they walked out, leaving candy wrappers on the floor.

Don't come in and trash the store.  We are the ones who have to clean it up.  The shelves and displays are not trashcans.  Don't draw penises on price tags (yes, that's happened).  If you pick a shirt up off the table don't drop it in a ball.  We appreciate it if you make an effort to put it back the way the rest of them are.  Even if you do it wrong.  Don't leave crap on the dressing room floor.  Like your old bra when you steal a new one (yes, that's happened too).  And if you knock something over just pick it up.  Not that difficult.

Treat us the way you want to be treated.  It's that simple.  Acknowledge us when we say hello.  Please and thank you are magical words.  Or names are not "hey you, in the black shirt", "missy", or "honey".  Don't think I can't tell you where the spark plugs are because I have tits.  We have bad days.  People tell me how good I am with customers, how happy and friendly I am.  No, I act like I am.  I really don't like people.  We know when "it's such a beautiful day outside", you don't have to tell us.  Most of the time we'd much rather be out there ourselves.  Don't drop your stuff on the counter and walk away, especially when there's a line.  You'd be pissed if someone did it in front of you, so don't be that asshole. 

If you're nice to us we'll be nice to you.  It's that simple.  And you never know, there might be a coupon or something you didn't know about.  We really do like to help.  Although when we say "have a good day" we really don't give a shit what kind of day you have.       

What Makes A Family

This may sound silly, but I have no family.  No biological family, anyway.  I mean, those people are out there but they took their sides.  Guess who's side they didn't take?  Believe it or not, I'm okay with it.  Took awhile, and losing some people was much harder than others, but it is what it is.  I'm sure that in time I'll get into more of the back story.  But it's just hard to do right now.

Don't feel sorry for me.  I would truly hate that.  Because I have family.  The family I have made for myself.  I have my best friend, who's kids have always been my nephews.  Boy, they were so disappointed to find out we're not blood related.  I have my "other mom", as I've always called her.  She has taken over as my only mom, and she'll never know what that means to me.  I have my sisters, her 2 daughters who have my nieces.  One has been one of my oldest friends, and they know that I am always there when they need me.  Her husband is like that brother you fight with, but you know he has your back every time (just ask the guy who's tooth he knocked out defending me).  I shed a tear or 10 when my niece graduated high school, Ms. class president.  And my other nieces are just as amazing.  And I'll spare you from the past I had with one of her sons...but he wasn't my "brother" then so it's okay.

Then there are the people who have really had my back over the past 3 years of pure hell.  They wrote letters of support, letters that brought me to tears.  Even though I closed myself off, they still checked on me and wouldn't let me push them away.  My "work mom" has done things for me, even when I said I didn't need the help.  I have found people online who have listened to me cry about the same shit over & over, and have offered help that I never accept.

And then there's my Laptop Confessional whorez.  Yes, that's our term of endearment.  We have taken over the mindset of the honey badger, we just don't give a shit.  But someday we will have our commune and will all be sister wives.  BLaM is my same sex sole mate.  She gets me in a way nobody ever has.  She knows when something is wrong without me saying a word.  A prime example...I stood at my sink trying to decide how much of a particular pill to take.  Shortly after I got a text telling me to step away from the sink and the bottles.  Some freaky shit.  Vicks is my little hedgeho.  We laugh at her typicals (typos) and sometimes we shake our heads wondering ethnic (WTF) she is talking about.  The queen of auto correct.  Kat gave us our first badger baby.  And has shown me love even when I don't deserve it.  AC sent me a secret Santa gift that still lives in the same box.  She gets me, and is always the one who truly tells it how it is.  Ridgewalker is my favorite nerd, and sometimes I really miss her.  Confessor Cin I miss so much.  She is truly an amazing woman, who has given so much of herself.  J has become my sister Bruins fan, but that's only the tip of the iceberg.  She really just kicks ass.  And Spanks.  She leaves me with not enough words in the English language.  She is one crazy ass bitch who means so much to me, more than she probably realizes.  Then there's Zeno.  I wish he was around.  I miss him more than he knows.  Because I love what he has to say, and I blame him whether he did it or not.  And I know we all feel the same. 

Life gets crazy, but I hope you get to know them.  You'll probably see them pop in when they can.  They have truly saved my life on more than one occasion.  They are my family, whether they like it or not.                

The Strong Hold Of Addiction

When I was a kid there was a bar downtown called "The Colonial", and my mother would cross the street with us so we didn't walk by.  When I got older I learned that my father used to have to "remove" my grandfather from there quite often.  When we visited my uncle on the Cape, there was always the same smell in the house.  When I got older I went to a Rolling Stones concert, and learned what that smell was.  My mother used to say how careful we had to be, that addiction runs right through my family.  So I was a good girl, didn't drink or get high.  But everything was always a secret.  As an adult I realize that's probably how it was when she was growing up, you just don't talk about it.

Addiction is an awful thing.  Some people just think the addict is weak, that they bring it on themselves, that they should just stop.  Addicts are often seen as less of a person.  But addiction knows no age, no gender, no economic status.  Addiction doesn't care if you're a celebrity like Cory Monteith or Robert Downey Jr.  And addiction doesn't care if it takes away someone you love.   

"He said you'd be the one to save him", his friend told me one night.  And I think part of me has spent 20 years trying to do that, whether I realize it or not.  Nothing is an addict.  I can't tell you how many times I've dropped him at the VA for detox or rehab, how many times he's relapsed, how many times I hear that things would be different.  I was still the good girl, and he kept all this hidden from me.  Being as sheltered as I was I didn't know the signs.  I knew he drank and smoked pot, but I had no idea about the crack.  And probably other things I still don't know about.  I didn't recognize the dilated pupils or the jaw grinding.  I believed him when he said he used the crushed beer cans and nip bottles with the holes for smoking pot.  I never saw him do it.  He later told me that he wanted to "protect" me from it.  Unfortunately he didn't protect my heart.

"Why wouldn't you leave?"  I heard that over and over.  And I did, over and over.  But he'd draw me back in with promises.  I never used, so I had no idea what it was doing.  When he'd pick a fight with me and disappear for a few days I thought it was because of something I did.  It wore me down, made me feel like I wasn't enough.  Probably explains part of why I kept taking him back.  He's still the only man I've ever loved.  So I put up with it.  One day he smashed my car window.  So I tried to run him over.  Really.  He jumped on the hood of the car and wasn't hurt.  He got rough with me.  Just once.  I took out a restraining order, pressed charges.  Then refused to testify so the charges were dropped.

It wasn't always bad.  He stayed clean for long periods of time (as far as I know), spent time in long term rehab and in sober houses.  He always had a job of some kind.  Never laid a hand on me again, although he still had a real temper.  During one of those times we weren't together I found myself pregnant.  The father was "rebound man".  By this time Nothing and I were just friends.  But the feelings were always there.  And when things inevitably ended with the "sperm donor" and he'd stopped being part of my daughter's life, Nothing stepped up as a father to her.  He always said that blood didn't matter, that he was her daddy.  I think being "daddy" helped keep him clean for longer than he had been since we'd met. 

There would be times when he was doing great.  He was fun, sweet, and pretty much everything I wanted.  Then there would be other times when he'd be short tempered, angry, quick to fly off the handle.  I used to tell him "bring back nice ****".  After countless trips to rehab a doctor finally got to the bottom of some of his issues...he was bipolar.  The drinking in particular was his part of his way of self medicating. 

I knew I had to work on things myself.  In case you haven't guessed I was pretty co-dependent.  I tried going to Al-Anon meetings, but they just weren't for me.  Then I started to realize that my daughter was getting old enough to really notice what was going on.  And I didn't want her to think this was normal.  So I made the decision to end things. 

But I still checked obituaries to make sure I didn't find him.  I never stopped worrying, never stopped caring.  I had no idea where he was.  And after about 7 years I found him again.  Damn Google.  We've been off and on since then, although I never let him back into my daughter's life.  I still had to protect her from the uncertainty.  I do believe he's always loved me, at least as much as he could.  He still has his demons, and they still get in the way (although I don't think crack is one of them).  But I'm trying to let go.  I don't know what they future will bring but I do know I have to stand on my own two feet.  I have to not let my happiness be affected by what he does or doesn't do.  I'm trying.  But sadly he's almost my addiction.

***People have asked why I call him Nothing.  He's been my boyfriend, my fiancé, my friend, my ex, my daughter's daddy, my "one that got away", my booty call, my enemy...everything but my husband.  He knows that's how I refer to him, although he really doesn't like it.  Plus he'd be really pissed if he read this. 

Do You Know Where Your Kids Are?

Or more importantly, what they are doing?  With the internet available on so many devices you may have no idea.  You know Facebook, Twitter, MySpace (yes, I guess people still use it), Google +, and Instagram.  I'm guessing most of you have been drawn to the lure of Pinterest.  You may know Tumblr and Reddit.  How about Kik, Voxer, Snapchat, Wanelo or Pheed? 

This week in Florida 2 teenaged girls were charged as juveniles with aggravated stalking after allegedly taunting and bullying a 12 year old girl until she committed suicide.  Over the weekend the 14 year old posted  "Yes ik I bullied REBECCA nd she killed her self but IDGAF".  How many parents would be happy to see their kid post that?  (For the record the girl claims her page was hacked.  I'll bite my tongue...) 



But the one that scares me the most is ask.fm.  Ask.fm is a wildly popular social networking site where teens can post anonymously without the prying eyes of parents...and has been linked to an unknown number of suicides. These are directly from the page of a 16 year old girl, none have been made up.  And her grandparents, who she lives with, know nothing about the page.  Some are the questions are nice...

When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up?

When you imagine yourself as really, really relaxed and happy, what are you doing?

 If dogs never existed, which animal would take its place as Man's Best Friend?


Even some that are sweet, even if the subject is not

don't hurt your self you beautiful

don't listen to people sending hate and don't even think about take that blade to your skin your beautiful and don't ever forget that before you cut think of how your gunna have to cover all the scars it's just one big mess stay beautiful<3

If your ever down, put your hand on your heart, what do u feel? That is a reason to keep going and don't listen to anyone, and if you alone u have me :)

You're life isn't perfect. No ones is. I get it. I used to cut. I know what it feels like to be surrounded by support it feel so lonely and rejected. But, its not worth it. You're going to have to explain them to your kids and then they are going to think it okay. I beg you to save them from that.<3

But things can change quick...

Bra size?
 
why you so ugly
 
go cut yourself
 
I can't wait for you to die
 
Have you ever had sex
 
I want you to die you are so fucking ugly
 
last time you cut?
 
I want you to die

STOP CUTTING. IT'S GROSS AND IMMATURE . HOW ARE U SUPPOSED TO EXPLAIN THE DREADED SCARS. IT'S JUST GROSS. OUT OF ALL OF THE PEOPLE THAT GOD COULD HAVE PUT INTO THE WORLD, HE COHOSE YOU. AND IF U CAN'T REALIZE THAT U HAVE THE GIFT OF LIFE THEN U R JUST ABOUT THE DUMBEST PERSON EVER. STOPP CUTTING!
 
Do you send nudes or ass pics

You got some tig ol' bitties and your sexy af'


It was a hell of a lot harder to find the nice ones than the brutal ones.  I'm crying too hard to look at more.  Especially when an innocent question gets a terrifying answer...

What is your favorite thing to drink?

Bleach

Chances are, the teens in your life are (or have been) on ask.fm.  And you probably wouldn't even know it.  When we were kids, you were bullied face to face.  Or sometimes face to fist.  Sometimes it was a passed in a note, written on a desk, or even a phone call.  But nothing like it is today (damn, typing that made me feel old).  Now it's on websites, Facebook, texts, IMs, etc. 

Sites and apps pop up all the time.  Sites you may never hear about.  Pages can be set to private, or to let certain people see only what they want them to see.  Accounts can be made that never show the person's real name.  Texts and messages can be deleted.  With apps like Snapchat, once the photo is open it disappears.  And I have just found a new one...that's how quickly they pop up.  Skim, which does the same things with chats.  Wow, I found this in an article posted yesterday.  Like I said, they pop up all the time.         

So what can you do to keep the kids in your life safe?  I honestly have no idea.  Be aware, know about the different social media sites & apps, watch your kids closely.  Don't be afraid of watching too much, because it's so much better than finding out your child has been cyberbullied to the point of no return.  Google your kid's name, along with a key word like your town.  Whole names, nicknames...that's how I found a Tumblr page for the same kid (see my previous post about cutting).  Once they're caught with one page they can always set up another.  Have others on your side...just because you're blocked doesn't mean everyone else is.  And keep your eyes open.  Because your child might be the cyberbully or the victim and you may never know.

But Wait, There's More!

This morning I woke up at 4:30am and couldn't fall back to sleep.  Insomnia sucks.  There's not a lot to do at that hour (alone, anyway) so I turned on the TV.  It's amazing the things you can do.  If you, or someone you know, has suffered any kind of ailment or had anything replaced, you may be entitled to compensation.  You can get your college degree online, and they will even match you with the right school JUST FOR YOU.  Money tied up in a structured settlement?  JG Wentworth can help!  It's amazing how many celebrities look like shit if they don't use Proactiv.  And then there is this classic...they have even added the infamous line into their tag line. 

 

 

But nothing beats the "as seen on TV" products.  Let me first say that I have a warped affection for these products.  So much so that birthday and Christmas gifts exchanged with my best friend almost always include something "as seen on TV".  For Christmas she got her own Forever Lazy.  I own some items myself, but I'll get into that in a bit.

In the old days you could only get these items by mail, no CODs (if you're old enough that will make sense).  There was always a special offer...order now and we'll double your order, just pay separate shipping and handling.  Which made no sense, because you were paying that twice but they were shipping it all together.  Available for 4 easy payments of $39.99...but wait!  Act now and make only 3 payments of $39.99!

There are the classics, of course.  ShamWOW, Chia Pets, the BeDazzler, Flowbee (because who doesn't want to cut their hair with a vacuum?), Ginsu Knives, the Clapper, Richard Simmons and his "Sweating To The Oldies".  And then there was pretty much anything offered by Ron Popeil...Pocket Fisherman, Veg-O-Matic, GLH Formula Number 9 Hair System (the spray that covers your balding spots), the Chop-O-Matic and the Electric Food Dehydrator, just to name a few.  On a side note, when my grandmother died the minister looked just like him.  He asked the mourners "what would you give to get into heaven" and I turned to my mother and said "$19.95".  My father was not too happy with our attempts to keep from giggling.

Some of my new favorites have been getting a lot of airplay.  There's the Aero Knife, which actually says "if you want to cut the cheese".  When you're overtired and have the mind of a 12 year old boy that makes you snicker.  The Cat's Meow cat toy will turn your lazy kitty into crazy kitty. 
The Wax Vac ear cleaner, which I really don't need to describe.  The Olde Brooklyn Lantern, which sounds like a dirty sex reference.  The Table-Mate, which is like having 18 tables in one.

Here's the description of another that has caught my eye..."The Stone Wave will help you prepare delicious, gourmet foods in your microwave that your whole family will love, in LESS THAN five minutes! The secret is in the specially designed chimney that allows steam to escape, while the custom dome circulates heat evenly, infusing flavor into every bite! And with Stone Wave’s non-stick surface, you can make everything from eggs to baked desserts without butter, fats, or oils, for healthy, mess-free meals!"  With that many exclamation points how can it not be amazing?

I am not ashamed to say that I own some "as seen on TV" items.  I have 4 Snuggies, although they are all still in their boxes.  The Emory Cat scratch board, which Pedey has never scratched on.  I do love my Sticky Buddy (it has little rubber fingers that reach deep).  A few Chia-Pets, also in their boxes.  And various knock-offs too. 

The only "as seen on TV" offer I've ever gotten that I have never regretted was Bare Minerals.  I've never worn much makeup but the commercial made it took so appealing.  It was a "fully customizable get started kit" and completely won me over.  And no, I have no connection to the company.   

The next time you're watching these commercials just remember they're never quite as good as they seem.  Except for Life Alert...if I fall I wanna be able to get up.

Dear Facebook...

I love our page.  I make no money off it, I just do it for fun.  We have some kick ass "fans" (sorry, I don't know what else to call them), many of whom make me smile just by leaving a comment.  Unlike so many damn pages I won't link to ilyke, lolspots, rolfzone or like.com.  And I'm sure there are others.  I don't want the same thing posting at the same time on tons of pages, and I don't want our followers to have to click to another site to see it.  For the record, I don't begrudge pages who do that.  Believe me, having an automated system post the majority of the content and making money at the same time is awfully appealing.  I may not always be funny or insightful, but I try to be semi original.

It's so discouraging when out of over 17,500 people, only a few hundred are seeing what we post.  The rules keep changing.  You can't just hit "like" and have a page's posts show up on your timeline.  I would assume that if someone likes a page then they want to see it.  But there have been times when things that I posted on Laptop Confessions myself have not shown up on my own newsfeed.   

What most people don't know is that you want me to pay to have my posts seen by more people.  If I was a business I wouldn't have a problem with it.  Sometimes you have to spend money to make money.  But I don't make money from the page, and you essentially want me to buy views.  You can set a daily budget.  I can't afford that, I need to get working on my bail fund.  

• For $5 one post will reach an estimated 7,200-13,000 people.  Yeah, we already have more people who have liked our page and you have kept them from seeing us.
• For $30 one post will reach an estimated 28,000-52,000 people.  Still, for one post.
• For $100 one post will reach an estimated 44,000-83,000 people.  Oh, and that one post is over the course of one day.
• For $200 one post will reach an estimated 69,000-130,000 people.  You'd think it would reach double since you're paying double.  I guess not.
• For $2,000 one post will reach an estimated 330,000-620,000 people.  Sorry, this leaves me speechless.

I know that before I had a page I would spend more time of Facebook because I enjoyed visiting pages.  Not because I am getting a suggestion to like Giuliana Rancic and her " fall FabFitFun VIP Box full of $175+ of must try products".  Yup, that's the second thing on my newsfeed.  And if you ask the average Facebook user (not your shareholders who just want more money) I'm pretty sure they'd say the same.  Even if that FabFitFun VIP Box looks very intriguing. 

Don't make me beg people who might kinda like me (Sweets, that is) to like and comment and share.  We don't need to be a big page, but I am a bit of an attention whore.  It's not just us.  It's most pages.  I want to see my favorite pages show up on my newsfeed.  I want to know when my favorite bloggers post something new (hopefully someday someone will think like that about us).  I want to be entertained. 

And I want to grow both our page and this blog.  Because both, in many ways, have saved me.

Smooches,
Sweets

I'm A Woman, Dammit!

I used to say I was the perfect girlfriend...love drinking, sports & sex.  I can talk Red Sox and Bruins better than most guys, and am perfectly comfortable in a sports bar.  While moving I was shocked to find I own a dress, since I'm happiest in my jeans and Converse.  But lately I've found myself wanting to be seen as a girl.

Don't get me wrong, I love my sports.  With the Red Sox headed to the playoffs, the Patriots undefeated, and the Bruins season about to get underway I love it.  But when I get a message from Nothing that just says "did you watch the game" it sometimes annoys me.  My friend wrote "thank you, gorgeous" when I did something for him at work.  Now I'm not saying I'm gorgeous, but it's much more ladylike than "it was a great game".        

At my second job I usually worked in the tool and lawn & garden department.  I'm seen as "one of the guys".  Which isn't always a bad thing.  I now know my way around power tools and lawn equipment.  I'm actually quite handy.  I'm also kinda shy, so sports can sometimes help break the ice. 

But I realize I want to be wooed.  I've never had flowers delivered to me (oh wait, I did once, when my friend felt bad that nobody had ever so she sent them herself).  I want to be wined and dined, I want to feel special.  Don't get me wrong, Nothing has never made me feel unattractive, but I want more.  I guess I want to be treated like a woman.  I'm pretty independent, but I'd like someone to take care of me for a change. 

I'm fairly independent, but I'd like someone to take care of me for a change.  Someone to hand me the tissues when I cry at a sappy movie, to buy tickets to a show just because they know I want to see it, to bring me soup when I'm sick.  Maybe I need a me.            

But if you want to talk about my "tight end" that's okay. 

Blame Someone Else Day

Today, Friday the 13th, is also Blame Someone Else Day.  So I thought this was a good time to start blaming the people who deserve the blame for shit in my life.  And if they don't really deserve it then that's too bad.  I blame them anyway.

• I blame my heart for leading me down the wrong path time and time again, my brain for being so screwed up and imbalanced, my procrastination for taking so long to write this.
• I blame my school counselors, who decided I had a learning disability even though I'd always been in the "gifted" programs.  It made me grow up feeling stupid, even though I wasn't.  It set me up for failure, made even worse when my high school guidance counselor decided it should be hidden from my school records.  That led to me being thrown into a deep pool without a rope, with nobody realizing I couldn't swim.  It wasn't a learning disability, it was ADHD.
• I blame the university where I made my first attempt at college, who brushed me off when I went to them to report that I'd almost been raped by 3 guys in a dorm room.  Apparently the fact that I was drinking made me misinterpret the situation.  No, it didn't.
• I blame Nothing, because he made me believe it was "inevitable".  For telling his friend I'd be the one to save him.  For making me think things will be different each time.
• I blame my parents for oh so many things.  They broke me down and took the only thing that mattered in my life. 
• I blame the only thing that mattered in my life for being so self-centered that she made things up to suit her own wants and that she didn't care enough about anyone else to realize actions have consequences.
• I blame my friends for being stupid enough to love me even when I shut them out, for supporting me through all my shit, and for even keeping me alive.
• I blame the first person who thought cutting themselves was a good idea.
• I blame my ability to trip over flat surfaces for the screwed up knees & ankles.
• I blame my job for making me exhausted enough to sleep way too late on the days I don't have to work and need to get things done.
• I blame Disney for making me believe in happily ever after.
• I blame my New York Yankees for, ummm, because I can.
• I blame John Hughes for making movies that made me think that the chick who wasn't the popular one could come out on top. 
• I blame everything and everyone else who I couldn't list here because the post would be 10 pages long.
• I'd blame myself for a lot of things, but I can't do that today.

And most of all...

• I blame Zeno.

I Found Her Blog

I found her blog.

It was a Tumblr blog belonging to a teenager whose life I had been pushed out of.  There were pictures of her.  She’d grown up into a beautiful young woman, almost 16 years old.  There were lighthearted pictures that she had reblogged.  Her sense of humor was so familiar.  Darker posts about sadness and depression sprinkled in.    Not a surprise, long family history.  I really started scrolling through the images she’d posted.

“No one cares unless you’re pretty or dying.”

“Once upon a time there was a happy little girl.  Then she grew up.”

“People don’t die from suicide; they die from sadness”.

From there it got worse.

“Self-harm is no joke.  You always hear how self-harmers are ‘emo’ or an ‘attention seeker’.  But self-harm isn’t a joke, it takes a lot to get to the point of turning mental pain into physical pain.  When you sit there, and make fun of them, you’re just making them pull down their sleeves, put on a pair of pants, and hide their skin even more.  You’re pushing them further and further into a hole.  And if you don’t be careful with what you say, that hole will turn into their grave”.

I wondered if these posts were in support of a friend who was cutting.  There were posts in a series called “Instead of cutting”.  I couldn’t see her, but I also couldn’t imagine that she was harming herself.

“When I was 8 I would never have imagined my life would turn out like this.  A depressed, self harming teenager.  What went so wrong…”

I was terrified.  It seemed like she was confessing that she was doing this to herself.  And I felt so hopeless because there was nothing I could do.  All I wanted to do is hug this young woman and help her find her way back to being 8 years old.

Then I saw this and I knew this beautiful girl was harming herself.

<!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]-->

30 Days?

Sometimes I come across a story that really gets to me.  Have you heard the name Stacey Dean Rambold? How about Cherice Moralez? If you don't know the names you may know the story. A 14-year-old girl is raped by her 49-year-old high school teacher. As the criminal case drags on, the girl, now 16, kills herself. The teacher pleads guilty and is sentenced to 30 days in jail. 30 days. His lawyer said, “he lost his career, his marriage and his home and has suffered a "scarlet letter of the Internet" as a result of publicity about the case. The judge, who never met the victim, said she “as much in control of the situation” and that she was “older than her chronological age.” Never mind that the rapist was her teacher and that under Montana state law anyone under the age of 16 cannot consent to sex. Cherice committed suicide just weeks before her 17^th birthday, and her mother said the relationship was a “major factor” in her suicide.

That's horrific on it's own. Then I came across an opinion column published in The Washington Post. The title of the piece? “Sex Between Students and Teachers Should Not Be A Crime”, or at least it was until the title was changed days later (the original title is still in the link). It was written by former lawyer and author Betsy Karasik. She wrote “I don’t believe that all sexual conduct between underage students and teachers should necessarily be classified as rape, and I believe that absent extenuating circumstances, consensual sexual activity between teachers and students should not be criminalized”. Wow. It's the “you can't get pregnant if it's a legitimate rape” argument all over again. Is it worse because the author is a woman? It is to me. She talked about knowing classmates from high school thru law school who slept with their students, that no one she knew “was horribly damaged and certainly no one died”.

This paragraph is from her article, and I don't want to paraphrase. So here it is...

If religious leaders and heads of state can’t keep their pants on, with all they have to lose, why does society expect that members of other professions can be coerced into meeting this standard? A more realistic approach would be to treat violations in a way that removes and rehabilitates the offender without traumatizing the victim. The intensity of criminal proceedings, with all the pressure they put on participants, the stigma, the community and media scrutiny, and the concurrent shame and guilt they generate, do the opposite of healing and protecting the victim. Laws related to statutory rape are in place to protect children, but the issue of underage sex, and certainly of sex between students and teachers, may be one in which the law of unintended consequences is causing so much damage that society needs to reassess.

I won't go down the “religious leaders” path other than to say that one of the priests in the Catholic Church sex abuse scandal was the priest at my church growing up. Two of them, actually. One was there when my classmates were serving as altar boys.

Kids are stupid. Yeah, I went there. Their brains are not fully developed, so it's not completely their fault. That's in part why they act impulsively and are more emotional. (Have you ever seen a teenage girl who couldn't find the right shoes to wear with an outfit? Drama!) Adults are not supposed to be that stupid. Their brains are developed. And for the adult to be in a position of authority is inexcusable. There are double standards when it comes to teacher/student sexual relations. When it's a female teacher the boy is often seen as “lucky”, at least when the teacher is hot. Most don't see a girl being “lucky” because she slept with a teacher. Or maybe I'm just getting old.

I actually started writing this because Ms. Karasik tried to use a Louie CK joke as the basis for her argument. And she got it all wrong. Just like the rest of her piece.  Here's the link, if you want to read it for yourself. 

 

http://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/sex-between-students-and-teachers-should-not-be-a-crime/2013/08/30/dbf7dcca-1107-11e3-b4cb-fd7ce041d814_story.html

We're Baaaaaaack!

The Laptop Confessions blog has returned for your reading pleasure!  You'll get to know the real us.  The good, the bad, the ugly & the insane.

And we want your help.  Send us your stories, your confessions, the questions you just never knew where to ask.  Everything is anonymous, we'll never tell...

Laptopconfessions@gmail.com

Signs You Are Too Drunk

Some signs that you might be too drunk...

-You lose arguments with inanimate objects.
-You have to hold onto the lawn to keep from falling off the earth.
-Your job is interfering with your drinking.

-Your doctor finds traces of blood in your alcohol stream.
-Your career won't progress beyond Senator of Massachusetts.
-The back of your head keeps getting hit by the toilet seat.
-You sincerely believe alcohol to be the elusive 5th food group.
-24 hours in a day, 24 beers in a case - coincidence?? - I think not!
-Two hands and just one mouth... - now THAT'S a drinking problem!
-You can focus better with one eye closed.
-The parking lot seems to have moved while you were in the bar.
-Your twin sons are named Barley and Hops.
-Hey, 5 beers has just as many calories as a burger, screw dinner!
-Mosquitoes catch a buzz after attacking you
-At AA meetings you begin: "Hi, my name is...uh..."
-Your idea of cutting back is less salt.
-You wake up in the bedroom, your underwear is in the bathroom, you fell asleep clothed.
-The whole bar says 'Hi' when you come in...

-And you read the title and thought "Too drunk?  Impossible"

It Sucks

I'm trying to come up with something to write but my head is spinning. One minute I'm smiling, the next I'm crying, and soon I'm just numb. I don't know how I got to this point. The point where it's become so hard to move forward but too painful to look back.

I know what I want. And it's really not that much. But every time I take a step forward I get thrown 2 steps back. It feels like the world is against me, that I'm in it alone. I have friends, and the families I've made, but in the end I'm here alone.

The darkness has taken over, bit by bit. I don't know how to get out of it. Sometimes I don't want to. Some days it seems easier to just throw in the towel. But I don't. I take those little steps and try to avoid the steaming pile of shit hiding in the grass. Sometimes my body and my mind shut down, so I let it. And then I make myself get up the next day and try again.