Somewhere Jesus is Crying

Maybe that was a little to much.  But I'm not sure.

I already had a post planned for today and I have no idea what it is or whether it's posted or not because for some reason Blogger wants me to be on Pacific time and I don't know how that works.
But then I saw this article and I couldn't help but jump onto my blog and ask all of my fabulous readers Bluzdude - What the fuck*?!

Somewhere in the God forsaken state of North Carolina, a pastor - A fucking Pastor - told his congregation to "beat the gay" out of their children.

I am not shitting you - There's even a video** (really it's a picture and then the audio of the stupid, fucking bigot pastor's tirade).  I could not even make this shit up.

And that's not even to mention how this guy tells all these ignorant cheering child abusers parents that girls must be beautiful in order to be girls or how he offers a "Special Dispensation" for these people to abuse their kids.

Seriously?  You called up God and had this conversation with Him:

Idiot Pastor:  Hey God, it's me Sean.

God:  I'm aware.  What can I do for you today Pastor Harris? (because I'm sure God is very polite and correct)

Idiot Pastor:  I want to give my congregation a special dispensation from you to beat the gay out of their kids.

God:  Pastor Harris, that is a fabulous plan.  I'll have Gabriel bring down that signed dispensation right away.

Idiot Pastor: Thank you God, that's amazing of You.

I don't think so.  I think it went more along the lines of this.


Idiot Pastor:  Hey God, it's me Sean.

God:

Idiot Pastor:  I want to give my congregation a special dispensation from you to beat the gay out of their kids, if you agree say nothing.

God:

Idiot Pastor: Thank you God, that's amazing of You.

You are not able to give a special dispensation for shit that you know God would not approve of.  And unless you are delusional (which I'm not sure you aren't) then you can tell from reading The New Testament that there is no way in Hell that Jesus would have tried to beat the gay out of someone.

Even if Jesus was anti-homosexuality (which I'm not positive he was) then He would have sat down to a big ass dinner with all the queers and gently "healed" them or maybe just discussed and explained and tried to convince them of the error of their ways.

And if that didn't work, He would have thanked them for the food and then left them the Hell alone.

Because that's how Jesus worked.  It's in the flipping Bible.

Let me be real clear here.  I beat my kids.  But for things like lying, stealing, slapping sisters too much and failing a class.  You know, shit they can control.  Beating your child for being who they are - the person God made them to be - is cruel and unusual punishment, and it is absolutely child abuse.

And the God and Jesus I know are looking at you from heaven and saying:

What the FUCK?!?




*I am actually aware that I am using all kinds of profanities in a post about Jesus and God and the Bible and Gabriel.  But in this particular instance, I think God and Jesus and Gabriel are fine with it.  Because seriously - when people try to justify stupid, cruel and/or horrible things in Their name, I'm pretty sure that Jesus, God and even Gabriel all have some serious potty mouths.


** I totally stole this video from another blog - Good As You - which actually looks incredibly cool and I am now going over to read it.

Shrink Etiquette

Let me preface this by saying that I have been to therapy before.  However, the other times I have been to therapy it was as half of a couple - with my mother as a teenager with Sir LiesAlot at the end of my first marriage, with Boy after Sir LiesAlot fucked him up.

I've never been to therapy by myself.  And next week I have an appointment with a shrink all by myself.

I'm terrified.

I have no trouble talking.  And while I do talk about myself alot, it's not really in depth or real.  That makes no fucking sense.

I like to talk - even though I sound like a blithering idiot most of the time.  And I have no problem telling you that I'm crazy or relating all the crazy ass shit that I do.  But the why - I don't like talking about that shit.  Partially because I don't know and/or understand why.  And partially because anyone who is actually crazy - I'm not talking about really, really weird, or very, very angry - I'm talking about actually insane - has a very painful and not conversation material reason as to why they are arsenic in the cookies unhinged.

So now that I have to go see this shrink alone, I'm trying to figure out how the hell this shit works.  

Do I just walk in and say - 

Hello Dr.!  I'm 30 years old, my husband's disabled, my exhusband is verbally abusive, I have 2 children, Girl is great but Boy gets bullied by my exhusband.  We all live with my mother who may or may not have abused me when I was a child - and I say that because my sister seems to think that our childhood looked alot like The Hunger Games, but I don't actually remember our childhood, so she could be full of shit.  My father is dead and that's awesome because he was a real dickwhistle and did abuse me as a child.  My family doesn't actually like me and I have spent the better part of the last 30 years pretending to be stable and normal when I'm around them.  But my husband is awesome and my son's father's parents are fabulous and they all love me even though I'm crazy.

I made this appointment because my husband is starting to get worried and he would really like me to be medicated - I would just really like to not think that the Canadians are going to invade and eat everyone's brains.

Nevermind.  Now that I've read that - I think perhaps I will stick with answering his questions.  Because we really can't afford for me to be committed.

White Trash

So I guess I am now officially White Trash.

I haven't decided how I feel about this.  It's never really been an issue before.  Though I suppose in order to be White Trash now I would have to have been White Trash or at least on the road to White Trashdom for a while.  But I didn't know about it, so I'm not sure it counts.

Anyway.

All of this White Trashiness was brought to my attention yesterday when I was having a terribly confusing conversation with my kids that involved their dads.*  And Girl, who is a stickler for precision needed clarification on who we were talking about even though Boy and I were in complete understanding.

So my kids decided they needed to number their dads.

That's right.  My kids have so many dads that in order to keep them straight they have to number them.

White Trash.

*Yes, my kids have more than one dad.  What can I say - I have a hard time with decisions.

It's My Child and I'll Spank if I Want to!

April 30th is apparently National Spank Out Day.  Which initially I thought was kind of cool, because I thought it was like a "Nurse In" kind of, but with butts instead of boobs.  So awesome.  I can actually take my kids out in public today, because if they act up I can hit them and tell the CPS officials who come knocking anytime a parent tries to parent that I was just celebrating National Spank Out Day.

Not so much.

It seems that National Spank Out Day would be more aptly named "National Guilt You Into Not Disciplining Your Children Only So That We Can Then Guilt You About Having Unruly Children Later Day".

Not so awesome.  I think I will be filing this under useless along with Cinco de Mayo and Arbor Day and Bosses Day*  and not be participating in this particular holiday, much to my children's disappointment.



*Just to be clear - I have nothing against Cinco de Mayo, Arbor Day and Bosses Day - well maybe Bosses Day but not the others.  I think that Mexico and trees and bosses are very nice.  But I am painfully white and have no Hispanic heritage to celebrate, so Cinco de Mayo doesn't really do anything for me (though my neighbors have kick ass Cinco de Mayo parties that they don't invite me to) and I love trees, but I kill plants just by looking at them.  Bosses Day is useless because why in the fuck should I buy something for my boss with my money when he makes more than twice as much as I do and when he buys my Administrative Assistant Day gift with the company credit card?!

Maybe I'm a Lunatic, but At Least I Don't Hate My Kids

I am often convinced that there are live bugs all over my body.  And sometimes I truly believe that the world is out to get me.  I have almost no memory of my childhood and recent years are pretty foggy.  No one in their right mind speaks to me either before I've had coffee or when it's that time of the month. And even my kids' dogs are afraid of me*.  I seriously want to build an underground shelter and get Lasik in preparation for the whole 2012 end of the world thing.  And Hubs has instructions to buy extra canned goods every time he goes to the grocery store.

I also truly believe that Canadians are evil.

But my kids are named Boy and Girl**.  Not Boi and Gerl or Yob and Lrig or some other equally stupid made up bullshit name.

Why?  

Because I love my kids and I don't want them to have to explain that shit for the rest of their lives.

My Mom didn't understand that by spelling "Chloe" as "Chlowie" she was inviting people to rhyme my flipping name with Wowie!  And also making it kind look like I might be a Wookie.***

Do you have any idea how much therapy costs?  

I didn't think so.

*My dog is not the slightest bit afraid of me, because he's the best dog ever.  My kids' dogs on the other hand are little shits who should be very afraid, because they are small, angry, yappy and puntable.

**My kids are not really named Boy and Girl, and you'll just have to take my very reliable word on that, because I'm not giving you real names.

***This is assuming that children born now will even know what a Wookie is - which really, when you think about it, is a very sad commentary on the younger generation.