A Surprisingly Sane Blog

I read this article today about a mother who gives her 8-year-old daughter Botox injections. You can read about it if you have not already seen the hubbub on the great world of the internet:

Child Abusive Moron Who Deserves to Be In Jail

That’s what the title should have been, anyway.

I am proud to be an open-minded individual in most cases. You can tell me your political beliefs, and while I might think it’s a rather harsh point of view, or that it’s sad you could honestly believe such and such, or that you seem a bit on the ignorant side, I also believe you are 100% entitled to your beliefs, and I will be respectful of your right to feel that way. Just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean that you are wrong to have an opinion.

Unless you think you’re better than someone because your skin is white and theirs is dark and you make the choice to blab about it. That’s just not okay in my book. And I’ll tell you that. But that’s a whole different story.

However open-minded I usually find myself being, though, this particular case of a “mother” injecting her 8-year-old with Botox just flat-out sickened me. What kind of person would do that? She claims it is to help her daughter do well in beauty pageants. She also said she WAXES her daughter’s legs and bikini area to make sure that it doesn’t turn into pubic hair later on in life… um, are you kidding me? Dark and curlies WILL DEVELOP. It’s part of life.

What. The. Hell. is wrong with this woman?

Clearly, she’s not right in the head… She has this idea in her head that she just KNOWS her daughter is going to become a superstar someday, and she just wants to make sure she has all the tools to get there- Botox being one of them.

Apparently, she’s under investigation, but in this case, it sure seems like that just not enough. In my honest opinion, I believe sticking needles in your child’s face, ripping out her body hair, and they psychological abuse that comes with convincing your kid this must be done in order for them to be “great” is just as bad as knocking them around.

In other words: I believe the courts should take this poor girl away from that beast of a woman until she solemnly swears that this kind of abuse will never happen again… and then get regular follow-ups by social workers for the rest of her daughter’s childhood.

What do you think? Is giving an 8-year-old Botox ever okay? What do you think should happen in this particular case?

Current Mood: Alarmed

I’ve given the Seroquel three whole days. Three. And I’m done.

It may as well be the new date-rape drug because holyfuckingshit every time I take it I’m knocked out clean for 12 hours solid. As in, I literally cannot wake up. My mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton, and I can barely talk. Hearing myself slur while I struggle to open my eyes and focus- without actually doing do, I might add- is about as degrading as popping my tits out and strutting around downtown Seattle while everyone points and laughs. It’s just awful.

Good God, what. the. fuck. were the makers of this shit thinking? Besides those side effects, I’ve run into walls trying to open doors, my whole body has been so weak I can hardly walk a straight line, and my arms have a weird tingling shooting down them into my fingers. And the headaches, let’s not forget those, with a side of tinnitus.

And the fact that this drug can cause pretty massive weight gain? Ah hellfuckingNO. Never. Call me vain, but I work way too hard to stay fit, so there is no way in hell I would ever subject myself to drug that causes massive weight gain and diabetes.

Seriously, if you’re ever told to use a drug, read through the side effects and check the frequency at which they pop up carefully.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I can barely see my computer screen right now, so I’m going to try to make it off the barstool chair and onto the floor safely.

Current Mood: Alarmed & Angry

I sniff out bullshit like it’s an everyday thing I step in, and the fact that I see it online and in person every single day has just started to drive me nuts lately.

Look. If you or your hubby or your kid is sick every single freaking week with some kind of major illness or disease or bone stuck in the wrong place in their abdomen, you have Munchausen’s syndrome. No one should be in the hospital constantly unless they have cancer or a deadly illness of some kind. And if it’s the whole family CONSTANTLY going through medical emergencies, different problems every time, my bullshit radar is gonna go off.

That’s all. Thanks.

Yes, this one is open for comments. Go ahead, burn me for being a bitch. My April Fool’s Day started with filing a police report for my stolen wedding band. A few hard words ain’t gonna do shit to me.

Current Mood: Angry

You are a bitch, he’s an ass, and your baby is fug. Get over yourselves. The world is not going to cater to you or your bizarre, unrealistic expectations. I suggest you both hole yourselves up in a cave and frantically wait for the apocalypse while you let the state hand your kid over to parents who would only fuck it up half as much as you will.

That’s all. Thanks.

Morons.

Current Mood: Angry

I just bought a new washing machine for the first time in my life. We really need one- ours makes the house shake so badly that we run and dive head-first for the earthquake-safe-zone by our front door every time we use it. And sometimes it turns into a ghost that makes noise but does nothing at all. And let’s not forget about the time I found a MOTHERFUCKINGRAT dying next to it. Good times.

The fact that this brand new washing machine is going to our Tucson house instead of the one we live in kind of pisses me off a little. The tenants were whining about it leaking, and the rental company wanted to blow through more of our cash calling for estimates and repairman, etc, for that old machine that washed all of Julie and April’s newborn clothing. I took a mental note of the possible costs and realized we could probably just buy a new one for a buck and dime more.

So that means tomorrow sometime, Sear’s delivery guys (usually cute ones in Arizona, too), will be knocking on the door of our old house and delivering my carefully-picked washing machine to the lady who was complaining about my old machine.

Lady, I’ll have you know that we were trying to make it possible to buy a new washer/dryer combo for ourselves this year. Thank you for delaying that. In return, I made a point to NOT get you the Super Duper Washing Machine With Front Loading Missiles and EtcEtcEtc. I’m saving that purchase for myself. You got the economy one worth a 5-star rating with zero cool bells and whistles, but still cleans magnificently. It was the second cheapest one I could find, and it was actually the most expensive one we could afford at the moment. I cracked a smile at that one.

So there.

And by the way, while I’m talking to you, it is NOT my fault a plastic bag got stuck in the pool’s filter basket, sat there for ages, and finally made it into the filter. That filter was brand new just a couple years ago, and I am NOT paying for your negligence. Taking care of the pool is in your contract.

I just bought you a new fucking washing machine when I need one more than you do. You can fork over the hundreds of dollars in pool repair. *sticks tongue out*

Current Mood: Alarmed