Chicks are Stupid

This is the title of the book I’ll never get around to writing. This blog attempts to break my reasons for thinking chicks are stupid into manageable chunks. And if one less chick is stupid as a result of this blog, well, you're welcome.
blog counter
blog counter
Hopefully we’re all dutifully doing our part to get worked up about shit the media says we should be worked up about. This week? Hobby Lobby!  And if you think I’m here to take a side, not so. I’m here to tell you why both sides can each take a flying leap.
To sum it up, Hobby Lobby doesn’t want to pay for its employees’ birth control. And they’re saying it’s because of religious beliefs. Because birth control can “cause abortions”.
Let’s start there, H-Lob.
It “causes abortions”?  They’re referring to the possibility that a gal on the pill may accidentally get pregnant, and the pill may accidentally cause a miscarriage.  To say that’s the same as “causing abortions” is, well, kinda irresponsible. No one has used the term “spontaneous abortion” to describe a miscarriage in decades. Just like we don’t use the word “retarded” to describe someone with a developmental disability. Now this part is just me, but the word “abortion” seems to imply intent to terminate.  It’s no secret the religious right is against abortions. As in a woman gets pregnant, doesn’t want to be a mom, and terminates the pregnancy.  Guess what? A lot of people on the left are against that, too. But using this Lobby Logic, it sounds like this company is against miscarriages.  Great!  We all are!  But I don’t like the implication that women have a hand in causing them. And isn’t there a whole mess of crap out there that women believe increases the chance of miscarriage?  Is Hobby Lobby going to go to battle against all of that? Because that sounds exhausting. Just sell me my acid-free adhesives, and stop wasting the SCOTUS’ time!
So that’s why I’m annoyed with them.  And here’s why I’m annoyed with the employees:
Pay for your own effing birth control, dammit!  Birth control is cheap. I mean dirt cheap. I paid $9 a month when I had no job and no insurance. If you can’t scrape that together once a month, then I brand you too poor to poke.
Too broke to poke?
Too destitute to dilly-dally?
Too down-and-out to in-and-out?
Too hard up to hump?
Crap, I’m off topic. Anyway, you see where I’m going. There are plenty of ways to prevent pregnancy, and some of them are even free. This whole fight about who should pay for something that costs peanuts is such a non-issue. And the saddest part? You & I are bankrolling this party.  Great use of our tax dollars.
The title of this blog is kind of a shout-out to Jared Leto. I just saw “Dallas Buyers Club” and am still a little pissed that he is a far hotter woman than I’ll ever be. And if you don’t get the reference, congratulations: You’re young.
In the week following my hysterectomy, I had about five awkward “I don’t have kids, and I don’t plan to have kids” moments. But thanks to a steady diet of chicken broth and percocet, I don’t remember most of them. Lucky for you, they’re still coming, so there will be content aplenty on the topic.
Because the Lord has a sense of humor, my nurse at the hospital was a young 20-something who had just returned from maternity leave. And like most new moms, she wanted to talk about it. I mean really wanted to talk about it. I suppose most normal people would want to hear about it, but c’mon. There are a finite number of babies I’m going to care about in my lifetime, and hers isn’t one of them. Since she kept mentioning the kid, and I wasn’t biting, she finally asked “Do you have any kids?” I replied “No”, and then there was the sound of gears turning in her head as she connected the dots of me having no kids and recovering from a hysterectomy. Followed by silence. Followed by “The doctor should discharge you around noon.”
Then there was another gem on Christmas Eve. We were eating Seven Fishes with family friends who I’ve known for ages. My mom’s best friend’s son, who was at my wedding, said “I know you’ve heard it a thousand times, but when are you having a baby?” He laughed because he was making fun of how annoying the question was. And since I’ve known him forever and assumed he knew of my distaste for children, I said “Well I had a hysterectomy six weeks ago, so never!” Then the color left his face, and he apologized. Oops! I thought we were exchanging absurd banter. I really didn’t mean to make him feel awkward.  I thought he knew. So I made sure to tell him that I never had any intention of procreating pre-uterus. He still felt bad.
And that’s something I didn’t expect at all: Pity. Fuckin’ pity, dammit. I used to say I didn’t want kids, and people would think I was nuts, tell me I’d change, and rarely be indifferent. But now I get a pat on the upper back with a head tilt. Bah!  This’ll make me nuts. I feel the need to yell “I didn’t want them anyway, remember? DON’T YOU READ MY BLOG!?”
I bust the chops of moms on this Tumblr quite a lot, but I once wrote something in defense of single moms . Today I’m writing in defense of the stay-at-home moms, or SAHMs (colossal fucking eye roll).
Look, SAHMs, I’m not here to go easy on you.  You’re not going to like the next few sentences. There are lots of things about you that make me want to punch you in the neck. Most of you are way too sensitive and way too cunty.  If someone asks if you work, they’re asking if you have a job.  They mean the 40-hr a week type with a paycheck, a manager, and perhaps a 401k.  And you know that’s what they mean.  You fucking know it!  But to respond with ”Yes, I work! I’m a mom!  It’s the hardest job ever!” Bah!  You know that’s not what people are asking. And not only is that response annoying, but it’s annoying that you take offense. Just because someone asks if you work (and no, I’m not going to start saying “Do you work outside the home”) doesn’t mean they’re chomping at the bit to pass judgement.
Are there people out there who are ready to pass judgement?  Sure. And they’re usually other moms. Some of whom are immature. Some of whom probably need to contribute an income to the family and may be a tad jealous that they can’t volunteer in Junior’s classroom twice a week. I am not at all saying ALL working moms are jealous, so preemptively put a sock in it. But some are.  These are the same ones who will envy those who have nannies and cleaning ladies. These chicks would probably love to have some extra hands around the house, but instead of saying just that, they say “Must be nice.”  Yes. Having a cleaning lady is fucking nice. And when all your little ones are off to school, they’ll come at you with this doozy:
"What exactly do you do all day?" 
Ugh. I’d like to deny it and tell you not to take offense, but that question is judgement-loaded. If someone ever said “You don’t have kids? What do you do with your time?” I’d spit in her fucking eye. And I think not having kids is what makes me hate this question. If I didn’t have a job, believe me, I could fill my day.  Honestly, my house needs to be dusted and vacuumed daily. It’s not.  I’d like to grocery shop a few times a week and buy fresher food, but I go on Sunday only to learn the chicken I bought is past its date when I want to cook it that Friday. I’d like to get my runs completed in the morning rather than at dinner time. I’d like to refinish my old bedroom furniture. I’d like to plant a garden. I’d like my scrapbooks to be current.  And so help me, when I lived alone I produced an unholy amount of laundry.  If you have more than one kid, I can only assume a minimum of 20 hours a week is spent folding.
Now here’s where things get interesting. I know a lot of husbands whose wives said they’d go back to work when Junior went to school. Now he’s in first grade, and dad is getting annoyed. He may think you two struck a deal, and you have now reneged. And, most likely, he’s communicating this to me and his coworkers, but not to you. This is possibly where the idea of at-home moms being lazy and sloth-like is bred.
To conclude, I’d like you moms to try something for me. When the judgmental parent at T-ball practice makes an implication (or states plainly) that you clearly must have nothing to do with your time, let that be a reflection on her/him. That person is an asshole.  Do not see it as an attack; try to see it as ignorance on that person’s part.*
*It’s easier said than done, which is why I’d also encourage you to tell these people to fuck themselves.
"Don’t you read my blog?" - Barney Stinson

You didn’t learn.  No one learned! I knew most of you wouldn’t learn, but I was hoping one or two of you would.
No chicks are less stupid as a result of this blog.
I thought if I laid down some rules and displayed your lunacy, you’d hold back.  You haven’t.  In fact, you defend your stupidity and appear to have doubled-down.
You tell me why it’s ok for you to refer to yourself as Mommy. You tell me there’s nothing wrong with getting your feelings hurt by the nameless/faceless trolls of the Internet. And for fuck’s sake, you’re still hashtagging to beat the band.
You still start sentences with “Um” or “So” when typing. Just two weeks ago, one of you even commented with a “Just Sayin” on my FB status. What exactly are you just sayin’, wordsmith?
You still get on social media and say things like “So for all of you who think teachers make too much money…” Who thinks that? NO ONE THINKS THAT. Quite the contrary. We think you’re fucking nuts to put up with other people’s kids for anything less than 7-figures.
You still refer to your husband as Daddy when talking to me.  He’s not my dad. Call him by his name, you infantile weirdo.
#youstillhastaglikethis #WhenYouShouldHashtagLikeThis #NoOneWouldEverSearchThis #SoJustStop
You complain about how hot Phoenix is.  Do people in Seattle complain about rain? I’m asking.
And it’s not December yet, but you will soon post pictures of that fucking Elf. 
You still fake being appalled by what you see on reality shows. Which are also fake. So I guess that one cancels itself out.
You don’t even try to hide the fact that you watch the VMAs in your late 30s.
You post pictures of marinara sauce to announce your pregnancy. And you say “We’re pregnant!”  NO!  “We” are not pregnant. “We” are expecting, but “We” are not pregnant. Fuck.
You think we are against breastfeeding, bottle feeding, staying home with your kids, being a working mom, attachment parenting, and having a nanny.  All at the same time. Truth is you can’t quantify the amount of fuck people don’t give about your stupid kid.
Did I really think I’d make a dent?  Well yeah, I guess I did.  So that makes me a little stupid.  But does this mean I should quit? Nay! I shall take it up a few notches!  It just means I need to work that much harder. 
Ok, ok!  Last one.  I didn’t just decide to start pouring out all my anti-kid nonsense for no reason.  There was something that prompted it. And I thought “If I get it all out now, then I’ll never have to talk about it again.” Kinda like when the cafeteria at work started selling homemade cookies. I thought if I bought one everyday, eventually they’d be gone, and I wouldn’t be tempted by them.  But that logic didn’t work with baked goods, and it won’t work with nosy people who don’t like my life choices.
I have to have a hysterectomy. When I let my friends know, I told them “If anyone is waiting for me to have that moment of sadness or remorse when I realize I’ve sealed my childless fate, it’s not happening.” I have not for one second had any doubt, sadness, regret or any other emotion other than frustration that this didn’t get done sooner.
Ok, not entirely true. My first thought was ”I’m going to miss too many long runs, and now I can’t do the PF Chang’s Marathon in January.”  My second thought was “I might need a walker on the 17th when I watch my friend compete in the Ironman Triathlon!” And third was “Dammit! Now I can’t run the 10 mile Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving…I’m going to have to limit myself to one slice of pie!”  And that concludes 100% of the sadness and frustration I feel about my hysterectomy. Then my friend told me her mile times improved after her hysterectomy, and I went back to happy.
It’s funny, but people still seem to be waiting for me to reveal a compassionate, sensitive side. I don’t have one. I DON’T HAVE ONE. I’m not sensitive. I don’t offend easily. I rarely cry. I seriously lack compassion. And I wouldn’t have it any other way, nor would my extremely like-minded husband.  If you ever want to call me up sobbing or panicking about something, be prepared for me to immediately start listing reasons why we should stop sobbing and/or panicking. Seriously, do you want to be sobbing and panicking? I’m guessing no.
That said, I fully intend to use my lack of uterus to start shaming people. It’s not polite to bust someone’s chops about not having or wanting kids. It’s not OK to tell them no one will take care of them when they’re older. It’s not right to say how selfish it is to not procreate.  And one day, you’re going to say the wrong thing to someone who wants kids and can’t have them. So on their behalf, I’m going to let the next asshole who has this conversation with me drone on and on, filling up all the squares on my Childfree Bingo card, before I crank it up to super cunt:
"Um, actually, I can’t have kids, so…" 

Before I get on with the next installment, I wanted to react/respond to all the new traffic being driven to my ramblings. For the most part, the people who read this know me in real life. But after a few entries about kidlessness, I’ve been getting lots of new eyeballs on this blog. Shucks! And welcome! However, I have a confession. Yes, I have DISQUS on this site to enable comments, but *long pause* I won’t read them. I have no tolerance for comment section vitriol, and about 99% of the things people respond with are just to tell the writer why he/she is wrong or why he/she should die a slow, lonesome death. I can see the first line of a reblog from someone who wrote something like “Here’s why you should care about the word childfree vs. childless”. For real? Did I not say in my last blog that you are not to waste your keystrokes on that subject? Did I not preemptively tell you to stuff it? Bah. I know not reading and responding to comments is no way to build a following, but this blog isn’t my day job, and it never will be.

So I link this to my personal Facebook, and I respond to the comments made by people I know in real life. And if I don’t know you in real life? Well nice to meet you, and I’m happy you’re reading. But I’m not 20; I’m 37. What does that mean? Like Judge Judy says, I’m cooked. My opinions are formed, and you won’t change them. If you’re here to appeal to my compassionate side, please first try appealing to Big Foot, the Locke Ness Monster, or that guy who woke up in a tub of ice with his kidney missing.

(None of those things exist.) Blogging onward…

Kidfree Bingo

Childfree Bingo.  It’s a thing.  Thanks to for the Bingo card!

"Who will take care of you when you’re older?"

It’s the response I hear most frequently and by a large margin. My response?

Look here, you deluded pain in the ass: You didn’t have kids for the eldercare. No one did. This isn’t 1873 when you had to spawn yourself a son to till the fields when your husband’s back gives out. Granted, as someone who has never wanted one, I have no idea why anyone has kids. I can only assume you did so to have a little extension of yourself to mold. Or maybe because you wanted something to do with your time. Or maybe you didn’t mean to have one at all. Who knows. But I guarantee you didn’t wake up one day and say “I’m going to need someone to change my Poise pad when I’m older. I better make a baby.”

I’d also like to point out that there are these places called “Nursing Homes”. They are filled with elderly people who require hands-on care. And these people have kids. Grown kids. Grown kids who are not taking care of them. Some of you reading this may have parents who receive care that you are not currently providing. Or funding! Your argument is invalid.

If you don’t understand why I don’t want kids, that’s ok. It’s ok! If it makes you uncomfortable because you don’t have a response when I tell you I’m not having any, that’s ok too. But do not come at me with your sloppy logic.

I’ve had to add to this post after it was initially completed. After my first anti-kid post about how people won’t get off my damn back about not wanting kids, a lot of my mom friends pointed out that if I did have kids, idiots would still find something else to be on my case about. Good point. It’s nice to know that if I did have a kid, other moms who hardly know me would tell me I’m doing it all wrong. So when you hear something completely boneheaded like “Have a kid to take care of you!” or “Having an only child makes you a monster!”, let it serve as a gentle reminder to be a little less douchey to others.

        There’s a movement online of people without kids. They call themselves “Childfree” so that we all know they chose not to have kids. They get offended when you say “childless”. Just the way stay at home moms get offended when we say they don’t have jobs. I mean seriously. They bicker and debate and curse. It turns into your classic online rage-fest. There’s really nothing to get offended about, but in this day and age of Internet trolls and comment section vitriol, everyone is offended every day by people they’ve never met. I wish you’d all just thicken your damn skin and shut your collective fucking pie holes. And if you want to take time out of your day to explain to me why the differences in those two terms matter, stuff it.  Ugh, now I’m off topic.
        I follow some vocal childfree folks on Twitter and various blogs (I like Like any segment of the population, some are kind, some are nuts, and some are a little too obsessed with their pets. Author Marcia Drut-Davis asked on Twitter recently if people took offense when others assumed they didn’t like kids. I didn’t answer, but I thought “No, I don’t’ take offense. Because it’s true. I don’t like kids.” Then I looked at the responses and saw a lot of people who felt the way I did.
        Here’s the problem: When I say I don’t like kids, all the crazed moms out there who have no identity outside of being “Mommy” take it as a personal attack. Dr. Drew was talking recently about women who can’t separate themselves from their kids.  As in “If it happens to my kid, it happens to me.” Well that’s not true, and that’s not healthy. These are the same women who take offense to STFU, Parents. (one of my favorites!)
        Lucky for me, my mom friends aren’t this way; it’s people I don’t know well who will take personally my choices. I have lots of normal mom friends, and I have nieces and nephews.  None of my friends think I hate their kids. They’ll even ask me to babysit in a pinch, and I’m happy to help. I just don’t want a kid living in my house 24 hours a day for 18 years. That sounds horrible. Think I’m nuts? Well I think you’re nuts for calling yourself Mommy and your husband Daddy when speaking of him in 3rd person on Facebook, so we’re even.
(And by the way, you both have names! Knock it off. You sound like a fucking toddler.)
        This is the first in a four-part “I’m Not Having Kids, Dammit” series.  OK, perhaps it’ll be like 5 or 6 parts. I have a lot to say about this topic because other people have made this a very big deal in my life ever since I started ovulating.
        I’m 37. I’m married. I’ve never once been pregnant, and I’ve never wanted to be. When I was in high school and college, I had the same stupid boyfriend for most of those years, and we did all the stupid teenage things like talk about how we’d one day get married and have kids. But I hated kids. I justified to myself that I’d most likely not hate my own kids. Then when I was 20, I dumped the stupid boyfriend and for the first time realized that I didn’t HAVE to have kids.
        And, no joke, I felt like I was just let out of prison. It was a happy time. Cheesy as it sounds, it has always felt like a calling. I mean, I’ve never had a calling in this life, but nothing has called to me more loudly than the voice in my head saying “Don’t have kids!” I guess that’s more of an anti-calling.
        For 17 years now, I’ve been vocal about not wanting kids. About 99% of the folks I’ve ever said this to tell me I’ll change my mind one day. There’s nothing more irritating to me than someone who insists I don’t know myself. It’s one of the few things to which I’ll actually take offense. Gals who had their first kid in their 20s like to tell me “You know, I never wanted marriage and kids, and look at me now!” When did you not want kids? Grammar school? If you had a kid in your 20s, you can’t say “I never wanted kids!”  You hardly lived as a grown-up before you had that kid.
        Then comes the persuasion. Why do people insist on talking others into having kids? I’d never talk someone into something they can’t handle. I recently talked my friend out of getting a dog for fuck’s sake!  What’s with this need to push your lifestyle on others? How’d you make it this far in life without noticing that people are different? I guess my version of this is asking every other person I meet to go running with me, but that’s just so I can have someone to chat with during long jogs. But when people tell me they don’t like running, I never tell them they’re going to die alone.

All forms of media seem to be in the business of getting people riled up over things that aren’t happening.  Like Miley and her twerking.  Everyone in the media had a field day, and all the former Disney kid did was dance like a whore on television.  That happens every day.  If I knew what station MTV was on, I’d turn it on right now and bet there’d be a young broad shaking her ass in hopes of fame.

What is it today? Well a brown woman won Ms. America!  I know!  Huge deal, right? I mean, the first Ms. America pageant I remember watching was won by Vanessa Williams, but let’s all pretend that a non-white woman winning this pointless contest is a big deal. 

But oh no!  People on Twitter and in the comments section on various Internet pages were mean to her!  They said she wasn’t American.  They called her an Arab. Oh what a horrid, hateful society the media says I live in!  I read many an article and many an angry Facebook post telling me how horrible these people on the Internet were.  One small thing: I didn’t see anyone being horrible. 

No one I know said anything negative about this woman.  No one I follow tweeted anything bad. I didn’t see or hear anyone anywhere say anything offensive about this woman.  But CNN told us it happened, so every person I know who is related to someone born in India is now outraged.  Maybe they really did see or hear people say horrible, racist things about this gal.  But I’d ask them all to think long and hard about whether or not they really saw anything, or if they just saw the media tell them to be outraged. And so they complied.

Look, maybe people did see nasty shit written about this chick all over the web.  I didn’t.  And isn’t that what counts?  My friends & family on social media didn’t make racist comments. Everyone in my circle knows that someone born in New York is an American.  I read the comments section of the CNN article.  All I saw was people being outraged. Just as CNN told them to be. Quite obedient of them, really.

Also, I didn’t see CNN cite a source other than to say people “on Twitter”. While we weren’t looking, what used to be considered “legitimate” media is taking its news from people whose profiles refer to themselves as mommy bloggers, gamers, and foodies.  Oy.

If you feel compelled to start citing places on the Internet where you saw hatred towards this woman with your own eyes, stop. You’ve missed the point of my rant.  You probably aren’t surrounded by hateful, racist, ignorant people in your every day life. The media just likes to tell us we are. People with a mic would like us to believe we are a horrible, intolerant society.  I don’t know people like that.  And if you did wake up to a news feed filled with nasty comments from people you call friends, then I just might call you stupid for keeping such company. Virtual or not.

     Since more and more people are into Breaking Bad, I’ll once again reference Skylar’s “Shut up!” rant at Marie. I want to scream that at anyone and everyone who is complaining about the heat

     It’s not that you’re complaining; it’s that this social media/short term memory thing is back. It is always hot in September in Phoenix. Always. So shut your traps, every chick on social media who can’t believe it’s still “this hot” this late in the year.  The average high in September in Phoenix is 100.  And to each and every one of you who announced that summer was over when your kids went back to school in EARLY August?  Suck wind.  Hot, dry, dust-filled wind.

     And a preemptive shut up to all of you who are going to complain when it’s hot in October.  It is always hot in October. Towards the end of October, it goes from hot to “nice”.  And if we’re lucky, it’s cold on Halloween night.  Phoenix cold, that is, so 60.

     For years, I’ve rolled my eyes at everyone who says we only have three months of heat in Phoenix.  It’s hot from April to October. When I was in college, I had an out of state student ask me when it would get cold here.  I said “Cold?  November. Late November.”  I didn’t mean to crush her spirit; that was just a bonus.

     On an unrelated note, stop saying haboob!  They were never called haboobs!  They are dust storms.  They always were dust storms.  I’ve never known anyone to be injured during one.  They’re not dangerous as long as you’re not driving in one. They’re not a big deal, but in 2010, social media decided they were.  I even had friends post “thoughts and prayers” to all of us in AZ during what is basically a dusty breeze that looks cool in an iPhone pic.  I was baffled.  And when I expressed this, I was told I was wrong. By people who don’t live in Phoenix. Sigh.

     This week we had some rain and double-digit temps.  It was a nice little break.  But prepare yourselves, ladies.  The triple digits didn’t go away, and so help my I’ll punch you if you complain about their return.

     Back to the topic at hand. Please, please understand why, exactly, you’re stupid for complaining about the heat.  It’s like this every year.  You can be annoyed that it’s hot. We all are. But you can’t be baffled that it’s “still” hot.  You can’t. I forbid it.