About a month ago, the Kid had a nasty flu bug. Not swine flu (I think) but just your general sore throat, fever, snot nosed flu bug. I kept him home from school while he had a fever (cause I’ve always been told that a fever is a good sign that it’s still contagious) which meant 3 days of the monkey face lounging on the couch.

After 2 days I got a call from the school. When I explained that Kid was sick, I got some nasty feedback about how he “needs to be in class” and a super snotty “Well! Are you going to send him tomorrow!” phrased less like a question and more like the exasperated flouncing of a southern belle who just found out the slaves were freed and wants to know who is going to wash her pantaloons.

I said he’s got a fever, he’s leaking snot from everywhere, and he might even have strep. Do you really want him sharing that with all his classmates? He’ll be back when he’s better.”

(Ruth wants to know what I have done to inspire the ire of the public school system that every dealing with a school person is chock full of condescending asshatery. It’s simple, I’m a poor single mom who fights back when they are shitheads. That’s all it takes).

Moving on. We now have one case of swine flu at a local middle school. That middle school is closed down even though the parent of the sick kid did just what they were supposed to do and kept the kid home. There are supposed to be more school closures announced tonight, at least 3. I gotta wonder if the school district’s policy of berating parents for keeping sick kids home helps or hurts the efforts to stop the spreading of disease. Certainly in the Kid’s case they would have been happy to have his feverish self coughing lovely influenza saturated phlegm all over their classrooms.

First- Charles Mudede is one of my favorite writers at The Stranger.

Today he is pondering just it is the male is the default sex socially when biologically the default is female.

After months migraines (sometimes 3 or 4 a week) and no relief from the usual suspects of drugs, I went to the doc on Friday.

He prescribed some more stuff (stuff I know will not work, stuff that may work but my insurance will be an asshat about) did some blood work and referred me to a neurologist for an MRI.

Doc’s office calls today to tell me that 1) my neurologist referral has been approved and to schedule an appointment. 2) they are doing the hoop jumping that the insurance company requires for the might work drug and 3) that my blood work is fine except that my folic acid levels are a bit low and I should start on a pre-natal vitamin RIGHT NOW.

I am not now, nor do I ever plan to be (again) pregnant. But in case I have forgotten that I am nothing more than a baby making machine, my doctor is more than happy to get me a pre-natal vitamin prescription.

Can I just say that menopause will be sweet sweet relief. I only have 15 or 20 more years to go.

Oh boo fucking who for you, my dear.

Let me play my teeny tiny violin.

You’re struggling with reduced finances. Your hubby’s portfolio is down 95%. You think you understand why we poor plebeians are so mad that some of us are picketing the homes of banksters.

You haven’t faintest idea. Your shame about not being able to spend like you used to is not the same as our desperation. We cannot feed or clothe, or house, or educate our children. You eat macaroni and cheese and think it’s virtuous. We eat ramen noodles because macaroni requires milk and butter, ramen just needs water.

You’re worried about your husband’s health. I bet that if he started having chest pains, you have the health insurance to take him to the hospital. We don’t have the luxury. Instead we use homemade remedies for alleviating an abscessed tooth while hoping and praying that it doesn’t lead to death, like it did for that poor boy in Baltimore.

You snipe about unworthy borrowers, but don’t have the brain power required to consider where they come from. 30 years of stagnant wages while men like your husband rail against minimum wage increases plus the loss of traditional pensions and skyrocketing education costs mean that the only way for average Americans to get ahead and send their kids to college and retire in some form of comfort was through home ownership and equity. Those who you call unworthy were doing the only thing they could to give their kids a chance at a better life. They were doing exactly what they have been told to do by society, by the government, and by people like you. And when that fails (and fails in a way which this semi-educated poor person had been predicting for years) you have the gall to say “no one saw it coming”. Everyone saw it coming, but the rosier-viewed among us thought it could be put off a bit longer.

So pardon me if I don’t find the details of how tastefully you choose to celebrate your husband’s birthday or how you duck into society events after the cameras are gone, humanizing. Forgive me for not having an ounce of empathy while you shop in your own closet, as I had to buy my kid thrift store shoes when his last pair become more aerated than a colander. And excuse me for my absolute lack of pity. You are the worst of America. And those poor people now populating the Hoovervilles (or Nicholsvilles as we call them here) would gladly trade their problems for your anyday.

watching PBS’ version of Dickens’ Little Dorrit (damn that seems like a shit ton of apostrophes)

There are only a few methods the rich use to fuck over the poor, but we keep falling for them. Over and over and over and over. In Little Dorrit’s case, I smell a Victorian ponzi scheme in the making.

Also, Victorians like Dickens and Gaskell use the term “speculation” with a snear, the same way southern women use the word “cute”. At one point the main character wants to invest in a bank that is doubling people’s money in a year. His partner snears “Isn’t that speculation?”. Main character assures him that it’s not, it’s “investment”. Same thing, new word. Not unlike “mortgage backed securities”.

I’m in a horrible mood lately. The kind of mood where you give up drinking cause you’ve just become a sad drunk. The kind of mood where living in a shack ala the Unibomber starts to sound attractive. So I’m not writing much (obvs) because my normally charming and erudite self has decided that endless reruns of cops shows with tough chicks are preferable to being just another poor sad slob on the internets.

But…….

In my botomless pit of negativity I’ve decided to do a new meme. There is nothing nice about it. I want to hate loudly. So here are a few things I hate sooooooooo much that I’d rather tear my eyes out and puncture my eardrums with an icepick rather than ever have to see or hear about them again.

1. The idea of “honor”. Honor gets other people killed, usually women. Honor is this outdated and stupid idea that another person has the ability to diminish you through actions that have nothing to do with you. Better to be diginified, to have integrity, to be ethical or loyal or kind. We don’t need to end honor killings, we need to end the idea of honor all together. Honor they mother and thy father? Fuck that if your parents are horrible horrible people. The idea that a young woman or girl can dishonor her family simply by leaving the house. Fuck that.

2. If god helps those who help themselves, then either god is an asshole or it’s just an idea that the selfish and greedy use to justify their success. I don’t want to believe in a god who isn’t there for the helpless. I think that would be the sole reason to believe in god if there was one, some omnipotent being there to help the lowest and most harmed. But everytime I read the news I get further proof that either god doesn’t exist or if he does, he’s not a god I want anything to do with.

3. Trite and boring art showcasing women as objects. You think that advertising and fashion are horrible, then you haven’t ventured into the artworld my friends. I like drawing from sculptues. It’s a good cheap way to practice abstracting figures. So I’ve been crusing modern art websites checking out their sculptures for intersting things. It goes something like this: headless female torso, headless female torso, female reclining in submissive position, boring mother and child sculpture, headless female torso, headless female torso with back view, reclining female, horse head, headless torso, female dancer, blah blah blah. It is very rare to come across just a female bust (clothed) or a male nude. I think I’ve seen 2 nude male sculptures out of hundreds (and I am not counting the one that was male except for his missing penis. Seriously artists- it’s just an appendage, like a finger or a toe). At least the Greeks gave their women heads and let them stand. At least the Romans weren’t afraid of a little male nudity. I’m going to go dig through my photographs and go back to drawing from ancient sculptures rather than try anything new.

4. I hate that moms in commercials always have families full of assholes. I thinking of you, Roll over minutes mom with your dipshit son. And the mom in that fancy home phone commercial who is making pallella and your son is a complete ass about it. Maybe it’s just moms and sons in commercials? Do daughters get to be assholes in commercials? I dont think I’ve ever seen that.

So dear readers- if you are still out there, what do you hate hate hate? Vent away!