Vappu, closest translation in english Labor Day, is the day when the whole of Finland is drunk...I mean really drunk, everyone drinks until (s)he runs out of money or is unable to swallow. And there's some kind of holiday on 1st of May too. (thankfully mom isn't visiting until the 16th :) )
This weekend is bound to be filled with drunken debauchery. Not that I would participate. I am not like that. I will sit sedately home and have a knitting circle. ---NOT---
So this weekend is filled with drinking, balloons, public displays of affection (which is really not common here in Finland) and then more drinking. It also marks the unofficial start of Spring. Layers of clothes are pealed off (despite the weather..and it has been known to snow on Vappu) and silly behaviour is abundant. Okay..sounds like a typical weekend for me..minus the balloons...
Not only is it Vappu, but the Grey Bullet has been liberated from storage. Yes folks, the Black Widow (all 750 cc's of her) has been officially put in to use for the next 6 months. She is just as beautiful as I remember and I have smiled from ear to ear today driving to work...
So..Hauskaa Vappua everyone!!!
Friday, April 28, 2006
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Dr. Angelou...
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies
I'm not cute or built to suit a model's fashion size
But when I start to tell them
They think I'm telling lies.
I say
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips
The stride of my steps
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please
And to a man
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees
Then they swarm around me
A hive of honey bees.
I say
It's the fire in my eyes
And the flash of my teeth
The swing of my waist
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them T
hey say they still can't see.
I say
It's in the arch of my back
The sun of my smile
The ride of my breasts
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud
When you see me passing I
t ought to make you proud.
I say
It's in the click of my heels
The bend of my hair
The palm of my hand
The need for my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
I'm not cute or built to suit a model's fashion size
But when I start to tell them
They think I'm telling lies.
I say
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips
The stride of my steps
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please
And to a man
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees
Then they swarm around me
A hive of honey bees.
I say
It's the fire in my eyes
And the flash of my teeth
The swing of my waist
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them T
hey say they still can't see.
I say
It's in the arch of my back
The sun of my smile
The ride of my breasts
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud
When you see me passing I
t ought to make you proud.
I say
It's in the click of my heels
The bend of my hair
The palm of my hand
The need for my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Ammunition
Right. I have a guest coming to visit with her little boy tomorrow. As most of my friends know, if you come to visit and there is even ONE thing out of place I am all an apoplextic apologetic neurotic freakish person (thanks to a nurse for a Mom - germaphobic to the extreme, and a neurotic Stepmom - cleans before the cleaner comes to clean) who continually says "Sorry for the mess...Oh my, I am so embarrassed!." I constantly fuss and jump up from my seat to make sure everyone has something to eat or drink or whatever. Mira has devised a way of getting me to stop and realize what I am doing. Example:
Steph: "Would you like some more wine?"
Mira: "Kulta.."
Steph: "Is the food OK?"
Mira: "Kul.."
Steph: "I can run across to the store and just pick up something else if you want.."
Mira: "Hei.."
Steph: "Would you like some more wine?
Mira: "Ste.."
Steph: "Did I already ask that?...How about a beer?"
Mira: "Enough PEGGY!!"
...instant silence from me..... Seriously. It drives me nuts when my Stepmom does the fussing thing. I always thought I was much more calm than that. Holy hell how we learn to adapt and adpot the behaviours around us... I have ammunition now though now on the cleaning thing.. (thanks Hale)
Rules of Housekeeping
1. Vacuuming too often weakens the carpet fibers. Say this with a serious face, and shudder delicately whenever anyone mentions Carpet Fresh.
2. Dust bunnies cannot evolve into dust rhinos when disturbed. Rename the area under the couch "The Galapagos Islands" and claim an ecological exemption.
3. Layers of dirty film on windows and screens provide a helpful filter against harmful and aging rays from the sun. Call it an SPF factor of 5 and leave it alone.
4. Cobwebs artfully draped over lampshades reduces the glare from the bulb, thereby creating a romantic atmosphere. If your spouse points out that the light fixtures need dusting, simply look affronted and exclaim, "What? And spoil the mood?"
5. In a pinch, you can always claim that the haphazard tower of unread magazines and newspapers next to your chair provides the valuable Feng Shui aspect of a tiger, thereby reducing your vulnerability. Roll your eyes when you say this.
6. Explain the mound of pet hair brushed up against the doorways by claiming you are collecting it there to use for stuffing handsewn play animals for underprivileged children.
7. If unexpected company is coming, pile everything unsightly into one room and close the door. As you show your guests through your tidy home, rattle the door knob vigorously, fake a growl and say, "I'd love you to see our Den, but Fluffy hates to be disturbed and the shots are SO expensive."
8. If dusting is REALLY out of control, simply place a showy urn on the coffee table and insist that "THIS is where Grandma wanted us to scatter her ashes..."
9. Don't bother repainting. Simply scribble lightly over a dirty wall with an assortment of crayons, and try to muster a glint of tears as you say, "Junior did this the week before that unspeakable accident... I haven't had the heart to clean it..."
10. Mix one-quarter cup pine-scented household cleaner with four cups of water in a spray bottle. Mist the air lightly. Leave dampened rags in conspicuous locations. Develop an exhausted look, throw yourself onto the couch, and sigh, "I clean and I clean and I still don't get anywhere..."
Steph: "Would you like some more wine?"
Mira: "Kulta.."
Steph: "Is the food OK?"
Mira: "Kul.."
Steph: "I can run across to the store and just pick up something else if you want.."
Mira: "Hei.."
Steph: "Would you like some more wine?
Mira: "Ste.."
Steph: "Did I already ask that?...How about a beer?"
Mira: "Enough PEGGY!!"
...instant silence from me..... Seriously. It drives me nuts when my Stepmom does the fussing thing. I always thought I was much more calm than that. Holy hell how we learn to adapt and adpot the behaviours around us... I have ammunition now though now on the cleaning thing.. (thanks Hale)
Rules of Housekeeping
1. Vacuuming too often weakens the carpet fibers. Say this with a serious face, and shudder delicately whenever anyone mentions Carpet Fresh.
2. Dust bunnies cannot evolve into dust rhinos when disturbed. Rename the area under the couch "The Galapagos Islands" and claim an ecological exemption.
3. Layers of dirty film on windows and screens provide a helpful filter against harmful and aging rays from the sun. Call it an SPF factor of 5 and leave it alone.
4. Cobwebs artfully draped over lampshades reduces the glare from the bulb, thereby creating a romantic atmosphere. If your spouse points out that the light fixtures need dusting, simply look affronted and exclaim, "What? And spoil the mood?"
5. In a pinch, you can always claim that the haphazard tower of unread magazines and newspapers next to your chair provides the valuable Feng Shui aspect of a tiger, thereby reducing your vulnerability. Roll your eyes when you say this.
6. Explain the mound of pet hair brushed up against the doorways by claiming you are collecting it there to use for stuffing handsewn play animals for underprivileged children.
7. If unexpected company is coming, pile everything unsightly into one room and close the door. As you show your guests through your tidy home, rattle the door knob vigorously, fake a growl and say, "I'd love you to see our Den, but Fluffy hates to be disturbed and the shots are SO expensive."
8. If dusting is REALLY out of control, simply place a showy urn on the coffee table and insist that "THIS is where Grandma wanted us to scatter her ashes..."
9. Don't bother repainting. Simply scribble lightly over a dirty wall with an assortment of crayons, and try to muster a glint of tears as you say, "Junior did this the week before that unspeakable accident... I haven't had the heart to clean it..."
10. Mix one-quarter cup pine-scented household cleaner with four cups of water in a spray bottle. Mist the air lightly. Leave dampened rags in conspicuous locations. Develop an exhausted look, throw yourself onto the couch, and sigh, "I clean and I clean and I still don't get anywhere..."
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
For Titi
Reflection. Sometimes re-examining one’s life can lead to opening memory boxes best left closed. But occasionally, a beautiful light emerges and one is reminded of all things good in this world and their life.
My uncle Tomas was closest in age to my Mom. He was a shining individual whose personal truth, unfortunately, was never revealed to those around him. As a small child, I used to marvel at all of the pretty medals on his chest and how handsome he looked in his shiny uniform. He is the one who named me Honeychild and the only person, to this day, who could and will ever be allowed to call me that. I asked him once when I was older why he named me such and he explained that when I was small (memory of being small is a fleeting thing for me), I would run with wild abandon in my little blue and orange swimming suit, barefoot and laughing, through the courtyards and streets of our neighborhood while the sun colored my skin the color of rich honey and then as the summer extended, to a mahogany-like shade of brown. He swore that no other child laughed or worshiped the sun as much as I did. Titi Tomas was my hero. Not because of the medals on his chest which he never explained to me, but because he never tried to bottle my energy by telling me that children should not ask questions or that I should wear the dress that my mother laid out for me and to respect my elders. He let me be me. He let my little bare feet slap against the cobble stones right beside his large bare feet smiling at the sound of my laughter and encouraging me to laugh more. These are the memories I cherish. So few are left of him from my childhood, that when one bubbles up from the safety of its warm and soft place, I like to cling to it and hold it where I can quietly relive the joy of him. It came to me later in life why I feel we had such a bond. I believe my uncle always knew I was like him. Different. And in being different he knew somewhat the pain and difficulty I would face later in my life. His unconditional love is something I will always count as one of my greatest blessings.
Why am I sharing this? Well because today is his birthday and on this day I am always reminded of him. The wonderful memories of his smile and the way only he could get me to laugh and the way we would laugh together. I am reminded of the last words he said to me as the disease he contracted was taking his life and his light from my every day world: “Honeychild, I love you. Life is meant to be lived so when I am gone just do one thing for me. Remember to laugh.” So it is with a profound joy that I would like to tell my uncle Tommy Te amo, wherever he is, and Happy Birthday. I am honored to have had him grace my life for as long as he did. The 11 year anniversary of his death from AIDS is in October.
I will be back to my snarky posting self shortly, but for right now I am going to allow myself to be wrapped in the warm and soft love that made me Honeychild.
My uncle Tomas was closest in age to my Mom. He was a shining individual whose personal truth, unfortunately, was never revealed to those around him. As a small child, I used to marvel at all of the pretty medals on his chest and how handsome he looked in his shiny uniform. He is the one who named me Honeychild and the only person, to this day, who could and will ever be allowed to call me that. I asked him once when I was older why he named me such and he explained that when I was small (memory of being small is a fleeting thing for me), I would run with wild abandon in my little blue and orange swimming suit, barefoot and laughing, through the courtyards and streets of our neighborhood while the sun colored my skin the color of rich honey and then as the summer extended, to a mahogany-like shade of brown. He swore that no other child laughed or worshiped the sun as much as I did. Titi Tomas was my hero. Not because of the medals on his chest which he never explained to me, but because he never tried to bottle my energy by telling me that children should not ask questions or that I should wear the dress that my mother laid out for me and to respect my elders. He let me be me. He let my little bare feet slap against the cobble stones right beside his large bare feet smiling at the sound of my laughter and encouraging me to laugh more. These are the memories I cherish. So few are left of him from my childhood, that when one bubbles up from the safety of its warm and soft place, I like to cling to it and hold it where I can quietly relive the joy of him. It came to me later in life why I feel we had such a bond. I believe my uncle always knew I was like him. Different. And in being different he knew somewhat the pain and difficulty I would face later in my life. His unconditional love is something I will always count as one of my greatest blessings.
Why am I sharing this? Well because today is his birthday and on this day I am always reminded of him. The wonderful memories of his smile and the way only he could get me to laugh and the way we would laugh together. I am reminded of the last words he said to me as the disease he contracted was taking his life and his light from my every day world: “Honeychild, I love you. Life is meant to be lived so when I am gone just do one thing for me. Remember to laugh.” So it is with a profound joy that I would like to tell my uncle Tommy Te amo, wherever he is, and Happy Birthday. I am honored to have had him grace my life for as long as he did. The 11 year anniversary of his death from AIDS is in October.
I will be back to my snarky posting self shortly, but for right now I am going to allow myself to be wrapped in the warm and soft love that made me Honeychild.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Rocking Friends..
Right..so my previous post was a bit of a pity party I know. I am over it. Hale commented on how people get confused by her gender or that she is a racist skin head. Anzi said that they were dumbasses...
I have no idea how someone can be confused by Hale's gender. She is tall, willowy and OBVIOUSLY a woman - shaved head or not. OH..and a hottie :)
So..my personal pity party extended to this morning..right up to the point where I called Beth. My bestfriend ROCKS my world. I call her feeling all "i need my sug and she is 10,000 miles away" and after my obligatory opening of: "Duuuuuuuude..Suga!" and her telling me how awesome it was that I called (instantly made me smile from ear to ear) she IMMEDIATELY says: "Okay..it is physics..for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction..Same thing with us. For every amazingly world class cool person like us there is an equaly huge retard in the world. And you can be on my kick ball team any time." Ya know what?...She is right. There has to be a balance...
My friends are the coolest people on the planet. Absolutely amazingly smart, insightful, totally hot and damn it, just THAT funny. So this is a shout out to all my rockin friends who are doing their part in keeping the balance. Which in and of itself is kind of frightening. Frightening you ask? Yes. Because the amount of totally rockin friends I have means that there are equally the same number of absolute retards in the world...
R=S+F
H
M= (-H)+(-F)*I
So..if you take R(Rockin-ness) to equal S (smartness) plus F (funniness) devided by H (hotness) then the dumbasses would be M (moron-ness) is equal to -H (negative hotness) plus -F (negative funniness) multiplied by I (idiotness) :)
And who said I am not good at math?..oh me...Well just goes to show I am smarter than I thought :)
I have no idea how someone can be confused by Hale's gender. She is tall, willowy and OBVIOUSLY a woman - shaved head or not. OH..and a hottie :)
So..my personal pity party extended to this morning..right up to the point where I called Beth. My bestfriend ROCKS my world. I call her feeling all "i need my sug and she is 10,000 miles away" and after my obligatory opening of: "Duuuuuuuude..Suga!" and her telling me how awesome it was that I called (instantly made me smile from ear to ear) she IMMEDIATELY says: "Okay..it is physics..for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction..Same thing with us. For every amazingly world class cool person like us there is an equaly huge retard in the world. And you can be on my kick ball team any time." Ya know what?...She is right. There has to be a balance...
My friends are the coolest people on the planet. Absolutely amazingly smart, insightful, totally hot and damn it, just THAT funny. So this is a shout out to all my rockin friends who are doing their part in keeping the balance. Which in and of itself is kind of frightening. Frightening you ask? Yes. Because the amount of totally rockin friends I have means that there are equally the same number of absolute retards in the world...
R=S+F
H
M= (-H)+(-F)*I
So..if you take R(Rockin-ness) to equal S (smartness) plus F (funniness) devided by H (hotness) then the dumbasses would be M (moron-ness) is equal to -H (negative hotness) plus -F (negative funniness) multiplied by I (idiotness) :)
And who said I am not good at math?..oh me...Well just goes to show I am smarter than I thought :)
Monday, April 10, 2006
Sometimes it hurts..
Okay, I am a grown up right? I am no longer the little kid on the playground who talks funny and who has parents that don't hail from Ireland and aren't decendent from the Mayflower folks. I am no longer the skinny (trust me on that one) little nob-kneed short greenhorn who was painfully shy in school when it came to the other kids. I had no problem relating to the teachers and enjoyed my course work (even at 8..geek I know)to the point where I was alienated by my class mates due to some stupid special testing that made it "clear" I was "accelerated" in my learning. Well..I have a frickin freakishly smart older brother who taught me to write cursive on the inside of my metal standing closet with a piece of chalk - at age 7. It isn't my fault I could write properly and was reading actual books (Nancy Drew was my favorite and a trusted friend) at the same age.. I count myself very lucky to have had and still have an older brother who introduced me to the joys of reading...math he still has to convince me is fun...I am well over 30 and he still has yet to accomplish THAT goal. So why does it still hurt when the other "kids" are mean?
I am not an insecure person to the point where other people's opinions of me make me shy and want to hide in that same metal closet with my coveted dog-eared books, lost in my own imagination and silently blessing Millie Benson and her creations. I have, what my Mom would call, blossomed. I don't think I am insecure anyway. Most friends I have seem to find me gregarious (word of the day for you finns who read this) and very open. Frequently I am loud and I laugh an awful lot. Sometimes I can overwhelm people with my energy and I do try to keep that tamed as much as possible. But as K says (and Beth agrees) I am loved in spite of the fact that I am loud and crazy and BECAUSE I am loud and crazy.
To the hurting part... This past Saturday, Mira and I joined 2 other couples (straight ones) for dinner in a small town called Järvenpää outside of Helsinki. We had a rather mediocre dinner at a restaurant which charged way too much for the pleasure and then decided to go out for an after dinner drink. The place we went turned out to be one of the two nightclubs in the town... After yelling over the music to be heard, we all decided to go back to the little Irish Pub we had a pre-dinner drink in earlier so we could all actually 1.) hear properly 2.) have a decent conversation without having to yell. Prior to leaving I needed to visit the ladies room. There was a Ladies, Mens and single separate WC in this bar. There was no line for the single loo so I opted for that one. Unfortunately, there was also no sink in which to wash my hands after tending to mother nature's call so I ducked into the ladies room to accomplish the task. As I am washing my hands, back to the door, a woman walks in and says very loudly so that every woman in there stared at me: "HEI! Tä on NAISTEN vessa!" (Hey!, This is the WOMEN's room!) Part of me wanted to crawl into the previously mentioned metal sanctuary and repeat "there's no place like home..there's no place like home" and part of me wanted to kick her. When I turned and said: "Haista vittu, Mä OON NAINEN" (Fuck You, I AM a WOMAN!) the woman just stared at me and proceeded to give me the longest once over in history and promptly harumphed at me... If it wasn't for the fact that I didn't want to get arrested and thrown out of the country I would have kicked her ass right then and there....
...Little did I know..I went back to the table and Marja (one of my friends) was actually in the ladies room when this all happened. She comes back and sits at the table and says to Mira and I: "Okay, which one of you was it?"... Too frickin funny. She was in a stall and KNEW it had to be Mira or I that was in there to elicit such an outburst from someone. I told her it was me..and she said "Nice use of the Finnish Language hon!".... It was then that we noticed that we were being stared at by people... Not even furtively! Openly hostile expressions on their faces...Apparently I had been oblivious to this happening most of the night until Mira said "you haven't noticed we have been getting stared at the whole time?!!"...Um..er...Princess Percepto..that is me.. NOT!
..it is the First time in Finland I have felt openly not welcome somewhere...just like being picked last for kickball...
I am not an insecure person to the point where other people's opinions of me make me shy and want to hide in that same metal closet with my coveted dog-eared books, lost in my own imagination and silently blessing Millie Benson and her creations. I have, what my Mom would call, blossomed. I don't think I am insecure anyway. Most friends I have seem to find me gregarious (word of the day for you finns who read this) and very open. Frequently I am loud and I laugh an awful lot. Sometimes I can overwhelm people with my energy and I do try to keep that tamed as much as possible. But as K says (and Beth agrees) I am loved in spite of the fact that I am loud and crazy and BECAUSE I am loud and crazy.
To the hurting part... This past Saturday, Mira and I joined 2 other couples (straight ones) for dinner in a small town called Järvenpää outside of Helsinki. We had a rather mediocre dinner at a restaurant which charged way too much for the pleasure and then decided to go out for an after dinner drink. The place we went turned out to be one of the two nightclubs in the town... After yelling over the music to be heard, we all decided to go back to the little Irish Pub we had a pre-dinner drink in earlier so we could all actually 1.) hear properly 2.) have a decent conversation without having to yell. Prior to leaving I needed to visit the ladies room. There was a Ladies, Mens and single separate WC in this bar. There was no line for the single loo so I opted for that one. Unfortunately, there was also no sink in which to wash my hands after tending to mother nature's call so I ducked into the ladies room to accomplish the task. As I am washing my hands, back to the door, a woman walks in and says very loudly so that every woman in there stared at me: "HEI! Tä on NAISTEN vessa!" (Hey!, This is the WOMEN's room!) Part of me wanted to crawl into the previously mentioned metal sanctuary and repeat "there's no place like home..there's no place like home" and part of me wanted to kick her. When I turned and said: "Haista vittu, Mä OON NAINEN" (Fuck You, I AM a WOMAN!) the woman just stared at me and proceeded to give me the longest once over in history and promptly harumphed at me... If it wasn't for the fact that I didn't want to get arrested and thrown out of the country I would have kicked her ass right then and there....
...Little did I know..I went back to the table and Marja (one of my friends) was actually in the ladies room when this all happened. She comes back and sits at the table and says to Mira and I: "Okay, which one of you was it?"... Too frickin funny. She was in a stall and KNEW it had to be Mira or I that was in there to elicit such an outburst from someone. I told her it was me..and she said "Nice use of the Finnish Language hon!".... It was then that we noticed that we were being stared at by people... Not even furtively! Openly hostile expressions on their faces...Apparently I had been oblivious to this happening most of the night until Mira said "you haven't noticed we have been getting stared at the whole time?!!"...Um..er...Princess Percepto..that is me.. NOT!
..it is the First time in Finland I have felt openly not welcome somewhere...just like being picked last for kickball...
Saturday, April 08, 2006
brain...hurts...
Okay whoever came up with the idea of a 4 hour language exam starting at 08:30 on a frickin Saturday morning needs to be slowly roasted over a pit for a few days until crispy...
I think I fell victim to my usual test panic attack. I am a horribl test taker..really..I suck. My palms get all sweaty, my heart races, stomach does flips (which is why I can't eat before a test - bad calculus class experience is enough to convince me never to eat before an exam) and the ultimate...my brain goes completely blank.. I really feel like I did not do well...
..oh the shame...
I think I fell victim to my usual test panic attack. I am a horribl test taker..really..I suck. My palms get all sweaty, my heart races, stomach does flips (which is why I can't eat before a test - bad calculus class experience is enough to convince me never to eat before an exam) and the ultimate...my brain goes completely blank.. I really feel like I did not do well...
..oh the shame...
Monday, April 03, 2006
Step away from the Big-Mac
This is going to be one of those posts that inevitably pisses someone off. Ya know what? I don't give a flying-fuck. I was lamenting in my head today how my creativity has just sputtered and died lately. Usually I read news stories and I get my little brain all charged up, neurons--okay neuron firing away for all it is worth. Lately, nothing has inspired my nasty little unforgiving side into action.
Well folks..that changed. I am reading the web today and I come across an article about car seats and fat kids. The title of the article is "Obese children find it difficult to fit in car-safety seats" NO SHIT SHERLOCK! So then I read the tragic tale of how obese kids can't fit properly into the car seat and run the risk of death and serious injury in car crashes. Damn right they do. Not only do they run the risk of death and injury by the not fitting their asses into the car seats, they run the risk of heart disease, juvenile diabetes, liver problems, kidney problems, breathing problems and fucking death from the size that there stupid over indulging, fat feeding, lazy assed parents have allowed them to become.
Seriously. What parent has the right to complain that little 3 year old and 120 lb Big Mac eating Bobby can't fit into a car seat? Quit feeding the kid nasty crap and get off your lazy ass and encourage the kid to play in an energetic fashion so he doesn't become any bigger! Feed your kids something other than preservative laced, sugar filled, salt ladened nasty crap and try out some fucking carrots for a change. Why in the world should we even HAVE obsese children?!? I am not the smallest person in the world, but I have no one but myself to blame for it. I am not saying that some genetically large child should not have a car seat that protects him/her - cause let's face it there are tall assed 4 year olds out there. But a tall 4 year old doesn't need to weigh enough to be considered obese for cryin out loud.
I am all for good car seats that keep the sprogs safe in case of an accident, but it seriously annoys me that people can allow and cause their kids to become so large that they jeopardize their saftey when in an automobile - not to mention the health problems from having so much weight.
Step away from the Big Mac
Well folks..that changed. I am reading the web today and I come across an article about car seats and fat kids. The title of the article is "Obese children find it difficult to fit in car-safety seats" NO SHIT SHERLOCK! So then I read the tragic tale of how obese kids can't fit properly into the car seat and run the risk of death and serious injury in car crashes. Damn right they do. Not only do they run the risk of death and injury by the not fitting their asses into the car seats, they run the risk of heart disease, juvenile diabetes, liver problems, kidney problems, breathing problems and fucking death from the size that there stupid over indulging, fat feeding, lazy assed parents have allowed them to become.
Seriously. What parent has the right to complain that little 3 year old and 120 lb Big Mac eating Bobby can't fit into a car seat? Quit feeding the kid nasty crap and get off your lazy ass and encourage the kid to play in an energetic fashion so he doesn't become any bigger! Feed your kids something other than preservative laced, sugar filled, salt ladened nasty crap and try out some fucking carrots for a change. Why in the world should we even HAVE obsese children?!? I am not the smallest person in the world, but I have no one but myself to blame for it. I am not saying that some genetically large child should not have a car seat that protects him/her - cause let's face it there are tall assed 4 year olds out there. But a tall 4 year old doesn't need to weigh enough to be considered obese for cryin out loud.
I am all for good car seats that keep the sprogs safe in case of an accident, but it seriously annoys me that people can allow and cause their kids to become so large that they jeopardize their saftey when in an automobile - not to mention the health problems from having so much weight.
Step away from the Big Mac
Cursed...
Okay I am cursed. I had this horrible respiratory and sinus thing for 2 weeks, got sick leave from the Dr and now am back at work...WITH ZERO motivation. Seriously..I get this sick leave and end up taking afternoon naps (mmmm..naps), read, drink tea, stay in my comfy clothes..pure heaven. Now I am back at work...with absolutely ZERO desire to be here... I seriously need to win the lottery...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
