Monthly Archives: September 2009

Woman Genius, Man Squeamish

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For the Ladies

For the Ladies

This entry is for the ladies.
Men, if you read it, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
(exclamation point to the tenth degree)
(seriously, I WARNED YOU, no whining)

I’ve got it.
It only took 30 some odd years to come up with the perfect verbal rebuttal system against all things boy/man whine.
 But I’ve got it now.
I am locked and loaded.

Now, I wouldn’t throw out random verbal prescriptions to the ladies without putting said system through a rigorous beta testing phase first, so I can assure, this system works, 99.9% of the time. In fact, after a four week clinical trial with my very own lab rat who I shall identify as Robert aka “The Husband” my success rate is smoking red effective.

Sooo……to explain. You all know how men can be sorta big babies about things right? Prone to whiner moments, a bit dramatic over things us ladies typically go, ya? so whats the big deal? It’s common knowledge a woman can swiffer sweep the house, do three loads of laundry, wash windows and juggle 3 children on her hip at the same time she has a 104 degree temp and only pauses to throw up occasionally— while a man with a slight sniffle will dive onto the nearest couch and text message the closest estrogen to retrieve the remote 5 feet away…ya know, cause he’s got a sniffle. (if your male, and you’re reading this, please review the first paragraph again)  Well gather around, I have a solution.

Dialogue from the Clinical Trial:

Lab Rat: “I think my elbow hurts from picking up that box the other day.”
My response: “I have the worst cramps today, like a chainsaw massacre in my pelvis.”
Results~ A slight look of perplexed confusion followed by a no reply retreat. No mention of the elbow again.

Lab Rat: ” My back hurts, mind giving me a back rub?”
My Response: “Sure, but first will you run to the store and buy some tampons? I’m out.”
Results~ A sputter. A mutter. Another withdrawal. Neither request was honored.

Lab Rat: “I just don’t feel like working today.”
My Response: “I think having a period should be like the olden days when ladies got to lounge in a red tent and be honored for her womb. What do you think? No working for me while I renew each month?”
Results~ Hands thrown up in the air, quick about face and off to work he went. I think I’ll still lobby for that renewel vacation.

Lab Rat: “I’m in a bad mood, so and so pissed me off on that conference call.”
My Response: “I’m full of rampant unpredictable hormones that are prone to crying jags or hateful thoughts because I’m about to start my period…I’m sorry, why were you in a bad mood?”
Results~ Blank stare. Took three steps back, did an about face and went away mumbling sumthin’. I can’t be sure, but I believe it instantly took his mind off his bad conference call. Soooooo sweet of me.

Lab Rat: “Ohhh Ohhhh, I got a paper cut!!!!!”
My Response: “If it bleeds for 7 days we can discuss it.”
Results~ A bit of revulsion and I believe he responded, “Good hell, don’t put those images into my mind!!” I classify it a successful bit of perspective.

 And so on……..

However, with any good prescription and clinical trial, the warnings and possible side effects must be disclosed. There is only one and I’ve decided I can live with it.

Rebecca: “Whats wrong with you? You seem quiet today.”
Lab Rat: “I’m not telling you.”
Rebecca: “Why not? Whats up?
Lab Rat: “If I tell you anything you’ll say, cramps, or menstruation or mention tampons or childbirth, things no man wants to ever think about, so I admit nothing!”
Rebecca: “When you end a sentence with such finality you should pause and say period!”

Ya know, I was skeptical about this whole ‘Wife’ gig for some time, but I really think I’m getting the hang of it!! Use the power of verbal persuasion wisely. Think of it as shooting bullets from a six shooter, only point at what you are willing to silence, period.

 Bleeding Heart Disclaimer: no living specimens were physically or emotionally harmed during this clinical trial. Bouts of laughter and good smiles were observed, but we are of the belief that’s never a bad thing.

Technical Writer, Death via paper cut

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large_writeillRecently I was hired for a writing job. The hiring process went a bit like this……..

Evil: “Hey, you’re a writer, will you freelance a report for our company?”
Rebecca: “Oh, I don’t know, I write and all, but I really don’t think I’m that sort of writer.”
Evil: ” We’ll pay you XY plus Z for 50 pages.”
Rebecca: “Send over the contract, I am your gal!”

By page 5…I thought I would die. No, really….D…I…E…..
As in, take a letter opener, jab it into one eyeball, go stir crazy and paper cut my wrists until I bleed dry–Dead. Gone. DIE.

I didn’t know I would hate—no hate isn’t strong enough—despise, technical report writing when I sold my soul to the devil. I figured it might be boring and tedious, but I had no idea I would pray for a flesh eating bacterial infection or a bout of E.coli to get me off the hook. Nothing spells sympathetic job release like a call from the ICU in a hospital saying, “I’m sooo sorry, you’ll have to get someone else to do it, I’m conversing with death, no Wi-Fi, only IV’s.”

50 pages of mind numbing boredom. 50 pages of zero humor. I didn’t get to write the word ass one single time. I didn’t get to use a metaphor or crack a single snarky sentence over their corporate heads. I had to pay attention to grammar and use a spell check. I had to research the most boring information I’ve ever absorbed and despite the fact I became a lip strumming psycho by page 50, I fear I may have learned a few things about the Internet. Excuse me…… sorry, I think I just vomited a bit in the back of my throat.  

There’s a good chance I’ll carry a mental scar for the rest of my natural born writing life. It was so painful and internally traumatic that a person just doesn’t forget and move on. I fear the next person who says to me, “Hey, you’re a writer, right?” will witness me sticking my fingers in my ears and running as fast as I can the opposite direction screaming, find a happy place, find a happy fucking place………

Did I mention it was bad and that I didn’t enjoy writing a technical report?

I did learn a few things about myself during that paid writing torture. For one, I’d fall down dead before I’d admit failure or quit something even if it feels like someone is driving tiny red hot pokers into my skull every five minutes. And two, I am NOT a writer. Not that sort. Not even close. The people who write in that field must be a special breed of super patience. Personally, I’d rather exfoliate an entire elephant with a toothbrush than suffer that sort of writing job again.

Therapy ~ This is purely part of the ”healing the writer within me”, recovery program. I’m hoping it will help settle the night terrors and occasional gag reflex I’m still suffering.
Ass, ass, ass, ass, ass…..There now, I feel better already.

100 Blog Posts and a Comment

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99 plus 1

99 plus 1

This entry marks my 100th blog entry for Provocation of Mine (d) Oh, Hello CHA-CHING ~
Of course the number does not reflect the true number of blog entries I’ve flung out over the years since I have moved locations a few times, but still…..100….in this blog…..in under a years time.

I’m on freakin fire……….

A few weeks ago I was in the living room when I could hear laughter coming from the office. It rang out, then went quiet, then I’d hear a chuckle, then quiet, repeat about five times before I hauled myself up and went in to see if my husband was watching puppet pornos or something worse on his computer.

Low and behold I busted him big time. Reading this site. The visual evidence, Provocation on his screen, and I took a deep breath and inquired, “So…..I heard you laughing, does that mean everything is all good? I mean, before you say anything, the way I see it, I refrain brilliantly from using the millions of moments I could use you for easy blog fodder” and he responded, “Everything is fine, I’m enjoying this. Not only do I like how you write, but I’m also reading the comments and there is some pretty hilarious stuff in here from the readers.”

~Hilarious is right~
In honor of my 100th post I present my version of a comment snapshot blitz.
Here are some excerpts from over 1500 comments, taken out of context, mini-highlights, randomly chosen for my amusement purposes.

  • Come to think of it, I’m a diet soda whore
  • Multiple husbands would have to be stabled like horses and each one taken out for exercise individually
  • Multiple wives means multiple PMS. No way!!
  • The favorite search term I’ve ever seen used to reach my site was one for “Hot Amish Sex.” I pictured a lonely, old Mennonite with a butter-churning fetish
  • Once you go Blackberry, you never go back(berry)
  • I don’t see the humour in this. My wife would tell you that I am nothing like that. No, you can’t have her cell number
  • I am about to throttle my brain because I’m refraining from not touching the double entente land mines you placed in the first paragraphs
  • My mind went right there. Not sure what that says about the company you’re keeping
  • You, missy, are a bad influence
  • In my mind I am picturing you chanting “The power of Christ compels you, The power of Christ compels YOU!”
  • You scare me, Ms. Might Kick A Man In The Package for amusement purposes
  • A few crossed wires and he might have gotten a phone sex line, which, I must say, has not been the same since they outsourced it to India
  • I’d tell you all sorts of moral strictures about parenting and all, but who really wants to hear that from a childless Atheist who listens to Marilyn Manson all the time?
  • I am totally afraid to click on that link…..you gals are scaring me!
  • Hooray for boobies!!!!
  • You ain’t nuffin but a hound dog
    provocin’ me all the time
    You ain’t nuffin but a hound dog
    From a place called op de zoom
    You can walkabout all you want
    But your ass will never be mine.

Pure Poetry in my humble opinion.  Thank you brilliant contributors.

Blog Trolls, Moles and Sad Souls

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I’ve done the blogging gig for over 5 years. If we equate that amount of time in true blog years, that basically makes me an elderly blog grannie with saggy socks and crazy hair who can be found taking frequent blog naps. I am also the old blog who is set in her ways with a wicked amount of blog observation under her browser. I’ve seen the good, the bad, the ugly and the beautiful. At this point nothing can surprise me, however, that doesn’t mean I don’t get cranky sometimes……..

I can honestly say that over the years I’ve avoided all things blog ‘drama’ and or negative 98.1% of the way. Basically, the secret to my sauce is avoidance, neutral involvement and maintaining a semi-detached version of myself up for public offerings. I also find people I enjoy and visit occasionally and if I don’t like someone I move along, never to visit again. (side note: and sometimes I really do like a person, but still lose touch with them)Pretty simple concept.

The few negative comments or emails I’ve received over the years pretty much made me 1) laugh 2) ignore with mild annoyance 3) think WTF (hello insane Internet neighbor) 4) get reasonably pissed or 5) deal with the interruptions like fallen lint off the ass end of a pesky blog fly that gets vacuumed up.

I wish I could understand the motivations of the trolls and moles. I do think they are appropriately named….Those that go hiding behind fake emails, names, proxies and any other slinking underground maneuvers they can sniff up. Such effort! Such time commitment! Such twisted behavior! Such dirty work! And the rewards for all that dirt moving? A reaction! A rebuttal! A response! A blog entry all about them! This is my gift to you. Enjoy.

I would think that if a persons highlight of the day is to 1) try to provoke negativity 2) ruin a persons day 3) smear another persons name 4) stir the proverbial pot or 5) flick lint off their ass on another persons carpet—-they need to seriously take a deep breath. They need to think really long and really hard about what they are trying to accomplish and what in the hell is personally wrong within because good people generally don’t get off on hurting others.

If you are a mole troll, might I suggest considering–Would your Mother be proud of your mole holes? What would your children think of Mom slithering around the Internet inserting negativity onto other peoples world. Or how about this, what would your wife or husband think if the authorities showed up at your house for harassment? Think about explaining that one to your family…..

A little hint here for those living in lala land~ the Internet isn’t so anonymous anymore, your hole can be discovered with a few hound dogs and a couple of shovels. Thats the smell of your trail. Despite your fake everything, please comprehend this—You still leave a trail of shit droppings.

Now, with those thoughts out of the way I’d like to address a few specific individuals of the lint nature.

Ruby Tuesday ~ If I wanted an opinion about someone I consider a friend, I would have publicly asked for one. I didn’t, so that makes your intrusion on my blog spewing ridiculous personal opinion a deplorable act of immature mole behavior. You gave your opinion, so here’s mine.

I suggest you take a hard look at why you would want to slander someone, then wrap your warped motivations around a mirror and take a good look at yourself. Usually the things you think you see in others, the things you may be inclined to outwardly attack, are the exact things you deplore about yourself, tis the human nature of an insecure soul. Lets face it, you’re the one actively slandering someone beyond their borders. That would make you the creepy snail trail. You wrote ~  ”Rebecca, why is it you support Heather so much..” There is an easy answer to that question. I’ve accepted her as a friend and in that choice, I accept everything about her. Your opinion is beyond irrelevant to me.  Now kindly fuck off.

To the person who has their panties in a wad over my comment activities let me just say this. First email (beyond the cheap shots) I could have slightly respected. “You are not commenting !! on Rebeccas blog!! anymore!!” Cool, I’m down with that! I’m fairly certain my blog will go on without your interaction or expectations….just saying…

Second email, ok, you made your point, relax, take a laxative and a yoga class.
Third email, I’m starting to think you need to seriously consider a new life goal beyond counting comments, but whatever, if it twirls your skirt.
Fourth email…I suggest you slowwwwly walk awayyyyy from the computer. Your slim thread of any remaining logic is hanging precariously close to the edge of comment count hell. I hear in that hell NO ONE ever EVER comments. Life as you know it will be one entry after another and no comments for you! It will be all my fault of course, but I’ll manage to live with it.  

I read your shallow thought process (rants and sniveling), however, I must say, this blog grannie isn’t changing anything about the way I do things because you have a wedgie. I for one don’t play the tit-for-tat, obligation ridden mentality of comment back scratching… No thank you. I do pity the people who may be commenting in your blog. You should put a disclaimer on your homepage “warning, if you comment once here and I comment in your blog twice I will go mole whacky because our comment balance is off”~~ move along little mole. Pour a new bowl of Cheerios. Life is short. Tomorrow may never come. Grab a rainbow. Dance naked in the moonlight. Then find a comment support group, asap…..kisses and love oh so strange one.

The Age of Perspective

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This weekend while strolling around an art festival arm in arm with two wonderful men (aren’t I the smart gal) I ran into the Mother of an old, old, haven’t talked to old friend in 18 years, sort of blast from my past. Now usually if I spot anyone that is from R-BC (Rebecca Before Children) I run the opposite direction like a doe running from a wolf of memories, but I shocked myself in a moment of brazen curiosity and walked up to old friends Mom.  I must have left a lingering impression because she remembered me, and it must have been a decent impression because she didn’t gasp, “Oh noooooooo not you!” (and run the opposite direction with her fingers in her ears) Instead, she was very friendly and instantly called me by my R-BC name ~ Becky.

We talked for some time, catching up, filling in the years of what I’ve been up too and this sweet Mom, catching me up on her daughters world. What struck me, and has lingered since Saturday is the huge difference in my life compared to my old friend. I have two children, old friend is thinking about having kids soon. I’ve been married twice, she’s never married. She lived out the country for 10 years, I’ve never broke past the borders of Idaho. My oldest daughter is the same age R-BC and old friend hung out last. Hello time warp……..

Kaitlyn & Shelby

Kaitlyn & Shelby 1st day of School 2009

We are the same age, yet, our lives that once mirrored one another are so far removed, universes apart and our realities only share the common thread of past memories. When I got home Saturday evening I pulled up the picture of my two daughters and their first day of school this year. When I was 19 years old I had a baby and that baby is now 17 years old and a Senior in High School. Time in a vice grip.

Since the day, the very second I moved out of my parents home with a baby on my hip, I have lived life firmly attached to parenthood and adulthood responsibilities. I never experienced life apart from my parents and solely responsible for myself and myself alone like my old friend. Yes, to this day, I wonder what could have been, where I would have gone, what I could have done if I hadn’t poured such precious concrete around my future.

I don’t believe what I feel is regret, but rather the occasional discreet glances over my shoulder at turning points. I am human and not to glance occasionally would be downright inhuman —right? For me a very profound defining moment happened one month after I turned 19 and it wasn’t the sex, it was the baby it created. The moment of conception is when my path in life took a hard left and I was shuffled off the learn solitary independence path my friends were on and I lined up, single file, on the fast track to caring for another, 24/7.

This subject, my reality and past is itchy grass to sit down in. Sometimes I observe my girls and wonder if they realized what I gave up for them, not just in my youth, but other path choices over the years, if they would pity me, feel unwarranted guilt or understand my love and what I thought was best for them superseded anything I could have gifted myself. I’ll never know because they will never know. Unnecessary truths and admissions can create burdens no innocent soul should carry. I see no need to ever go there…….

I’ve planned a meeting with my old friend. I look forward to absorbing her stories and her view of the world around her. I’ll look at it as a foggy confirmation or disenchantment of what could have been and in return, I’ll share with her what life having children out the gate of teenage-hood has gifted and shown me. Maybe we’ll look at each other and feel so disconnected it will be the last time we talk. Perhaps we’ll click like we once did and simply enjoy our different life perspectives. Maybe, just maybe, we’ll both envy a piece of what each other has had or has now and together we can thread a common connection once again.

On the bright side, when I do find myself slipping over the shoulder glances at where I’ve been I can straighten up, look forward and because of my past, I’m like totally in the homestretch of having children home 24/7 and at the age of 37 I couldn’t even comprehend, fantasize or swallow having a baby at this age. Hell—oooo Noooo to the double O.

What I really appreciate about perspective is that it has a nice resounding bitch slap when you need it the most~