I went to breakfast by myself this morning and I enjoyed the silence, reading my book and drinking WAY too much coffee when a teenage boy and his girl"friend" sat down next to me. If you've ever eaten at The Pancake House, you know that the tables for "two" are so close together that it's tough not to be thisclose to the person next to you. And, I'd like to say that I wasn't listening to their conversation, but who are we kidding here? Not only was I listening, I was making mental notes for when my sons are that age and reminding myself to be thankful that I am no longer a teenager. When the girl said to the boy, "What am I going to do with you?" I'm thinking to myself, Here we go, some smart ass sexual remark when the kid laughs and tells her,"You know, it's a good thing you're my best friend because I could have made some really nasty remarks to that comment" and the stupid girl goes, "Huh, what are you talking about?" and the boy goes, "What you just said, you left yourself open for a comment there" and she says,"I don't get it, what did I say?" I almost spit out my pancakes. Fucking dumbshit teenager... sorry, my apologies to all the "legit" teens out there. Then the boy proceeds to EXPLAIN what he meant and then to begin to tell her how often teenage boys think about sex... Check please! Seriously? Over breakfast? Was that girl pretending or was she really that naive or just plain ignorant? Whatever it was, I almost tossed my cookies, well, my pancakes. And people wonder why I don't want to go back to teaching high school. Believe me, it's as much for their sake as it is for mine. And while I might sound just a tad judgemental, it's because DUH, I am, at least when it comes to highly immature, game playing, dingbats who set themselves up to be judged. I feel sorry for the girls that my boys will bring home and even though I claim that I will try to like them; they are going to have to jump through fucking hoops of fire before they will gain any semblance of my approval... okay, maybe not of fire, we'll see how happy they make my sons.
So, I went to therapy today (you're going, Thank God because she was going off on a tangent there, but you're still reading aren't you?); I hadn't been in awhile as most of you can probably tell from the more frequent blogging and the topics which cover more things that "piss me off" lately, but, I felt that I needed to vent and to discuss some issues with my doctor, who incidentally, freaking rocks. That was thrown in for those of you who speak that kind of nonsense, but she really does rock; she has this demeanor that put me at ease in the first minute that I went to see her, way back in April of last year and I like how she looks at me, waiting for me to figure it out instead of just telling me the answer. Love that. No judgement and she WAITS for me to figure it out. Damn she's good. Anyway, I go for an hour which isn't long enough. I could literally lay there on that couch all day and spew the kind of nonsense that would probably lead to her eventual suicide, but seeing how she is a therapist, she'd probably counsel herself away from that possible outcome. An hour is long enough to "get a buzz" but not long enough to "get drunk" and maybe do something that you'll regret, but, I guess that also goes with the territory; we need other things to discuss at a later date which she booked for, as in next week. The thing about therapy is that it is kind of bullshit time that you pay for with a stranger who doesn't really know you and doesn't get too personal. I mean, they ask you personal questions and they listen, but they're not going to be on your Christmas Card list if you know what I mean. They are not a "friend" so to speak. And, that's a good thing because friends judge; all of us, more often than not, more often than we will admit, we judge; ourselves,each other and even total strangers. Case in point; today at Knott's Berry Farm.
The maniac and I went on a little excursion to good old Camp Snoopy, myself knowing that it would not be crowded the week back after vacation and it wasn't. So, we're running from ride to ride, he's screaming, the ride operators are letting us go 2,3,5 times in a row on each ride. Man, that roller coaster almost put me in traction, but Ty liked it so we kept riding it. Nonetheless, when there aren't that many people in a small space, you tend to keep seeing them, in lines, on rides and what not. Well, there was a couple and their children who kept popping up on nearly every ride that we were on which was fine; I wouldn't have thought anything of it, but here's the dilemma. This couple, every time they stood waiting for their turn would play grabass and I'm not talking just arms around each other, hugging, holding hands; I'm talking hands on one an other's asses, hips, tongue action, the whole nine yards. Now, as you well know, if you've been reading closely, I love sex, but I am not a "let's get it on in public" type of girl, well, woman and I most certainly do not condone any couple, regardless of age, marital status, whatever to be making out in front of my kid and me for that matter while we wait for the Hot Air Balloon Ride at a Kid's amusement park. There is nothing even remotely amusing about that! They had two kids, girls who seemed pretty oblivious to the whole situation; they looked about 5 and 3 and Ty noticed nothing so I guess I'm arguing against my own point here, but since I'm no prude, I really thought this was in poor taste, rivaling the teens at the pancake house talking indiscriminately about sex along with some very clear innuendo that just didn't make for breakfast fare, at least not mine. I don't want my pancakes with a side of "blowjob" nor do I want my afternoon with my kid punctuated with a helping of "Come here and let me dry hump you in public." And, did I mention, although this is irrelevant, but it makes me wonder what my husband would have said or done or not done if he were there instead of me, but the couple was two women. So the grabbing and fondling had a different effect on the people around us; I mean, guys were staring and these were guys with other women on their arms. What the fuck is it with men and two women? I mean, I know what it is; I get it, but that adolescent fantasy has to either give way or somebody needs to take a trip to the Bunny Ranch and get it out of his system once and for all. I have no problem with them being women, I just have a problem with them having clothed sex at Camp Snoopy; just thought I'd throw that in for fun...
I don't know if you can sense this or, if you know me, you probably have come to this conclusion already or maybe not; I'm wavering here, but I am very hard on myself. I'm not so hard on other people, but I do have high expectations of humans in general and of parents and of people who claim to want to make things better and then who go and fork over a fortune in Botox and other unnecessary expenditures that don't do anything other than help the economy I guess. And I know that some of you who read this get Botox and I know I've spoken to you about it, doesn't mean I agree and it doesn't mean that just because I have laugh lines that I can't stand that you and I are going to be sitting in the doctor's office together... I am most certainly not judging you, I am just simply saying, or asking, Where does it end? Where is the line between necessary and ridiculous? And If I have to ask, does that mean that I have no clue either? So my expectations concern what I have to do to make my own case, to set my own goals and to try not to expect other people to live up to some standard that I cannot live up to myself. How hypocritical is that? I drive an SUV, I live in a nice house, I go on vacations, my children want for very little. I am not a deprived person in the slightest sense so what gives me the right to have expectations of anyone? To say anything in the first place? I don't know; maybe I'll ask my therapist that next week when I see her. Or maybe, I will just continue to make note of the things and people and places who and where I see examples of absurdity and then I will write my disgust and dismay here for your judgement...
Why do I even care at all? I guess the answer lies in what motivates me as a human being to be better, to try, to keep moving forward. When that stops happening, so will my dialogue, or in this case, my monologue. "The end is nigh dear friends..." Nah, just fucking with you...
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