I Hate Random Words….

I am fairly sure I am not alone when I say that I have a plethora of words I despise. I don’t know why I don’t like them, I just don’t. Either way…this is  product of such a conversation

Recently, I posted a status stating how I did not like the word “blessed”…and so my wonderfully insightful sister, Amy, decided to ponder the subject while she was having no luck counting sheep one night and message me her analysis….here are the thoughts we share on the subject…enjoy.

AMY’S MESSAGE TO ME:

Good morning sissa! As you can see, it is 3:31 A.M. and I cannot sleep:( So, in true can’t sleep fashion, I am sitting in the living room watching/but not listening to, because the volume is so low, Dazed and Confused-a classic cult film, and pondering the meaning of life and the immense amount of crap I have to do in the next week. Somewhere in all of that, I found room to ponder your religious views:) I believe your hatred of the phrase blessed is due to a false view of the meaning of the statement. Someone who believes in God and his creation of us all believes that we were all created in our own unique mold. So, in essence we were all blessed the day we were created with unique gifts. For instance, you with creativity, an amazing sense of humor, and stellar artistic abilities, I with devastating beauty, brilliance, and superior well, everything:) Just kidding, but you get the idea. When a believer says they feel blessed, they refer to the abilities they were given- not God’s choice to spare them or grant them a win or a new house, or fix their broken Big Screen. We all enjoy the joy and pain of free will. The choices we make mold our life. The gifts we are given give us the tools to make our life what we want. God sees us through our lives supporting within his grand plan. That is about as philisophical as I can get, so if you have more questions or comments, please direct them to Dan Brown, Dr. Seuss, or some other ruler of the universe guru:) This has been your Sunday School lesson for this week, now you can sleep in on Sunday:) I like you a loooot. I pledge allegiance to the flag, of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all, PLAY BALL!

p.s. There are believers who share this scewed view of the word blessed and throw the phrase around like bad sushi. Those people make the rest of us look bad, and make people like you hate nice words like “blessed”

MY RESPONSE:

Ha ha! Thanks for the insight sissa, although my hatred for the word has nothing to do with the meaning it holds at all. For instance, I enjoy the word “fortunate” and many other words that hold similar meaning to the hated word at hand…but I truly hate the ACTUAL word “blessed.” Much like I hate the words, fundus, ornry, owly, quiche, vulva, Farve, labido, and stool. It is the way the word sounds to be that makes it undesirable. I think it stems from living in the south where at least 6 times a day you hear “Have a blessed day” from strangers in stores, gas stations, brothels…etc. The word is not a joy to hear when rolled off the tongues of heavily obese(another word which I feel is rediculous, but will use for descriptive matters) clearly unbathed, toothless gas station attendants. Also, the use of the phrase is clearly overused when people are pumping out “Have a blessed day’s” to every person they come in contact with. What if one of them is a satanist?…would that not be like offending a christian by saying, Have an evil day? ha ha ha ha….

Either way…it is the word that makes me ill. If the word banana held the same meaning as blessed, I could handle that, because the word banana is great, and fun to say.

“Have a banana day”
~Love, Sissa

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Turkeys for Toddlers

Recently I started attending Wednesday bowling nights at the Brunswick Bowling Alley here in Augusta. A group of friends let me in on the “dollar beer” festivities that go on, so I figured I would take the opportunity to get out of the house, away from the very children that I spend 98% of my time with….unless you count the times my one year old breaks into the bathroom while I am trying to have a moment of PEE-ACE (hilarious, I know), then the stat would rise to 99%. Anyways…..

While anticipating a night out amongst adults, even if it WAS to the bowling alley, I finished up dinner, dishes, and kisses goodnight before heading down to enjoy my $1 beer, uh…I mean $1 bowling games. 

Upon walking in the door, something very strange struck me…the sound of children.  Not teens, tweens, or even inbe-tweens…but toddlers. Babies. Newborns. I checked my phone to be sure it was indeed after 10pm on a week day and calmly strolled into the alley while hoping that some sort of curfew would begin its enforcement very shortly. I got my goofy bowling shoes while barely escaping what would have been a one man game of smear the queer with what appeared to be a two year old. “CANDY,”  he shouted! “DO YOU HAVE ANY CANDY?!”  I looked around for his parents and saw his Mother racing from the lounge with 2 draft beers fumbling in her hands. “THERE you are, you little shit…get over here!” She shot me a dirty look, as if I had any interest in her snotty nosed kid, and walked quickly back to their lane, dripping beer on her kid’s red mop of hair the whole way. Surely, I thought, this must have been a rare case of idiot syndrome and poor parenting.  unfortunately not. Apparently the water around here contains high levels of idiot and asshole…. directly linking the actions of so-called “parents” to the bowling alley.

I couldn’t believe what was going on around me. There were newborns in carriers resting on table tops between pitchers of beer and shot glasses, redneck men gathering up their children in a football hold while launching their bowling balls down the lane, toddlers playing tag outside the lounge doors while their parents went inside for a smoke, and wide-eyed kids sitting quietly while their ghetto fab guardians picked a fight with the good-ol-boys the next lane over. What the hell were all of these people thinking?!

Now, i know that parenting is not something that comes easy. It is a learning experience at every turn and not every choice is going to be perfect, but common sense should tell these people that small children should be home in bed at midnight, not partying it up like Paris Hilton at the bowling alley while their parents get shit-hammered on dollar beer. My biggest issue was the fact that the management of Brunswick didn’t seem to give a shit, much like the sorry excuses for police officers that were eating pizza and nachos in the lounge while slamming cherry cokes and exchanging high fives over the points on the buck that a fellow idiot/asshole had just shot on the hunting channel. 

Some people have no shame, but dollar beer is dollar beer….even if it means dragging your kids along to get it. Perhaps this isn’t the fault of parents or Brunswick at all, but rather Budweiser and Miller for producing such a wonderful product that can be enjoyed for a mere 100 pennies on Wednesdays…….I am sensing a slogan change…”Bring your kids along too, cause this Bud’s for you”.

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