Do. Not. Like.

Friday, July 8th, 2011 11:52 am
auntbijou: (Angry Chibi Auntie!!)
Dear Mr. Hopcraft,

Your emails have been a constant source of stress and worry for my mother. You send her the stupidest shit it is possible to find on the internet, which she then forwards to me with the plaintive refrain of "is this true???" Which means I then have to use my Google-fu and Snopes-kwon-do skills to prove to her that it isn't true and is just a silly internet rumor/lie/whatever.

Last week's was particularly fun. Along with your usual OMG, THE PRESIDENT IS A SCARY BLACK MAN WE MUST DO SOMETHING TO GET RID OF HIM HE WASN'T EVEN BORN HERE, you had to send something claiming that Obama had gotten rid of all the flags in the Oval Office and decorated it Muslim-Style!, or something stupid along those lines.

*insert eye-roll here*

However, last night's takes the cake, and it wasn't even really your fault except you probably don't have a firewall on your computer, or any sort of protection, and probably open every attachment you get. So somebody has hacked your email account, copied your entire address book, and probably sent identical emails to the one my mother got to everyone on your list. The thing is, it took forever for me to get my mother to see that an 86 year old man in poor health who can't make the drive or take a flight from Oklahoma to Texas is unlikely, therefore, to take a plane halfway across the country, and then across the Atlantic Ocean to London all by himself.

And if he gets mugged and has his wallet and cellphone taken, and then robbed so that he only has the clothes on his back and (miraculously) his plane ticket (no mention of the passport, by the way), he is more likely to call one of his sons, both of whom are employed and very well off, for help than he is the widow of one of his oil-field buddies who is on a fixed income and unlikely to have the funds needed to "tide him over" until he can fly home. I pointed out that you are a proud, stubborn man who would rather starve than ask for a handout like that. If you wouldn't ask my dad for help, you certainly wouldn't ask his widow for help. And that if you are able to get access to a computer for email with no money, no credit cards, no phone, then something is definitely fishy.

I finally convinced her that it was all a scam, somewhat, but I know she still had doubts. I'll probably have to call the police department in your town and have them do a health and welfare check on you to prove that you're at home and okay before I can be sure she doesn't worry herself into a swivet and decide to wire you that money.

I don't like you very much, Mr. Hopcraft. Before last night, if you were on fire and I had a glass of water, I'd drink it all. But now? You know what? I don't even care. In fact, I'm only bothering about this because you, once again, have upset my mother. And I have a very big problem with that.

So after we get this current crisis solved, I'm going to recommend she change her email address and, if necessary, block you. You're not worth the hassle. Seriously.

no love,

auntbijou: (Angry Chibi Auntie!!)
Note to self: After a night of having other people keeping you awake (and not in a good way, either), so that you get about two and a half hours of sleep, and then finally getting into a writing groove when you give up on ever getting back to sleep, and having it INTERRUPTED (looks accusingly at Impertinent Daughter)...

... do not then drive into San Marcos and be fooled into thinking that because the kids did great at the library and didn't make you want to wring their necks even once, it would then be no problem to stop at Hobby Lobby on the way home.

Never. Again.

I actually got some editing done on my slash novel at the library. Which was... wonderful. Miss Priss found books and manga, and managed to introduce the Impossible Son to a new manga which he is devouring. They sat at the table with me, reading and talking quietly while I worked, and then we went to check their books out. And I thought, oh, yeah, they were great at the library, we won't be at Hobby Lobby long, I just need a few things for beadwork, it'll be fine, even if the Husbandly One isn't with us.

Nope, not making that mistake again.

Mr. Impossible doesn't like going to craft stores unless we're getting something for him, and then he wants to escape as soon as possible. And he's operating under the mistaken assumption that if he irritates me enough, I'll leave the store and go home where he can play video games in peaceful bliss, and I'll be happy to be home and won't say a thing to him.

No matter how many times this fantasy does not play out, he still firmly believes it.

Let's just say that the fact he survived to leave the store is a miracle in and of itself. And he has somehow conveniently forgotten that I told him if I left the store before I was ready, and before I'd gotten the things I needed, he would not be playing his DS, or on any of his game systems. Dammit.

Seriously, I need a nap liek whoa. Or a caffeine IV. That is, if my head wasn't already going explodey.

Shoot me. Just shoot me now. Please.

auntbijou: (Angry Chibi Auntie!!)
Beware, cranky grouchy Bear alert:

Patrons are warned that a very snarly Bear was seen in the vicinity of Auntie's domicile. Innocent bystanders are warned to move slowly, speak softly, and have lots of chocolate to throw to distract the Bear in order to aid escape.

Do NOT play Johnny Mathis singing Christmas carols anywhere in vicinity of Bear unless one is willing to be maimed, twisted, stomped on, chopped into tiny bits, stuffed into jars, and distributed across disparate parts of the county, never to be found again.

That is all.
auntbijou: (Angry Chibi Auntie!!)
Dear Principals, Teachers, and other concerned adults,

You wanna prevent bullying in schools? Really? Want me to tell you how? Okay, stop with all the "Oh, let's build up self-esteem and tell the bulliessocially awkward and overly enthusiastic children that bullying is wrong and hurts people!!" crap, because y'all have been doing that for about, what, ten years now? Is it working?

NO. It's NOT.

Let me elucidate for you. The BULLIES already know that bullying is wrong. They already know it hurts people. That's why they do it.

They don't do it because they have low self esteem.

They don't do it because they're unaware of their own strength.

They have a sense of entitlement, and they know their own strength and have no trouble at all using it.


Well, maybe they're being abused at home, and they're acting out. Maybe one or the other of their parents is a bully at work, and has given their child the impression that the best way to get what they want, to get things done, is to bully people. Because if you think bullying stops when the bullies graduate, you are living in a dream world.

But the main reason bullies do it? Because... they can get away with it. They know that you, the principals, teachers, administrators, counselors, etc, will only do so much when one of their victims is brave enough, or desperate enough, to report them to you. They know you will take them into your office, sit them down in chair, and talk gravely to them about bullying. You'll ask them if they understand what they've done, and they'll say and do whatever they need to in order to get you to leave them alone. They know you will nod, and frown, and speak firmly to them, that you'll say something about calling their parents, and then let them go back to class. You'll send them to the counselor for a few weeks, who will also talk gravely to them, maybe make them watch a video or two full of those "happy, happy, cheerful, cheerful, don't be a naughty bully!" crap that does nothing at all whatsoever, maybe have them draw a few pictures, and then release them back into the population of the school. A few weeks will pass where the bully will do nothing. Then, when everyone's breathed a sigh of relief that the bully has been magically cured...

... it will start all over again

You might go a little farther if the victim's parents throw a hissy fit and mention the words, "lawyer," "lawsuit," and "police involvement" when they call you or storm into your nice, quiet, clean offices. You might give the bully an "in-school suspension."

Or you might send the bully home for a few days with a mild suggestion to his/her parents to see a therapist, or even to just "communicate effectively to your child that bullying is wrong!"

All you've done is give that kid a three day vacation from school work.

Wanna know how to stop it? Really, really stop it?

For one thing, tell your teachers when they're on playground duty to stop gathering in little clumps and getting so involved in conversations with each other that they only notice bullying when it's reached the point that someone is either bleeding or has a broken bone. If they're on playground duty, they need to separate and walk around the playground. They need to pay attention when they see a group of girls around one single girl, and need to notice the expression on her face. If she's crying, looks angry, or terrified, she's being bullied, you nitwits, not playing a game!! If a boy is being pushed down to the ground and two other boys are kicking him, it's bullying!!

Shit, people, this isn't rocket science!!!

And so help me, if you come back at me with, "What, you mean I'm supposed to actually watch the kids like they're in jail??" I am going to kick you so hard, your grandchildren will feel it! Yes. You are supposed to watch the children. You are supposed to walk around, keeping your ears and your eyes open. You're supposed to intervene before fists fly, before words that are worse than sticks and stones hit, before that one kid who stutters, who is smaller than the others, who wears weird, hand-me-down clothes, who has unusually colored hair, who wears glasses, who has braces, or whatever other fucking stupid reason bullies use to justify why they torment their victims is hurt again. That's your job.

That means at junior high level, you not only patrol the halls, you walk into the restrooms. What, you don't want to intimidate the kids? Why the hell not??? Isn't that your job, too?? What the hell else do you think is going to work?? Don't you remember junior high? Where did most of the worst bullying happen? IN THE RESTROOM!!!

And high school, same thing. PAY ATTENTION!! It isn't that hard. You did it every time you took your own kids out to play at a park, or at a family gathering, or any place where there were other kids, some of them older and bigger. You watched your kids like a hawk, and swooped in like a fury when they were threatened, and gods, if you didn't, I feel so sorry for your kids.

Well, you know what? For eight hours a day, my kids are your kids. And you better damn sure watch them like a hawk, because if you aren't, then you shouldn't be teaching. Or a principal. Or a counselor. Or anything to do with kids.

Seriously, people. You want bullying to stop, you don't try to make them feel good about themselves. You don't show them flowery, happy videos, and you don't treat them like victims who are mislabeled, or misunderstood. You stop them. You make them know, in a way they cannot ignore, that they are being watched. You get in their faces and confront them. You tell them it won't be tolerated, and then you don't tolerate it. You call the police and file charges on the behalf of the school and the victim. You fine the parents. You do whatever you have to do to make it damn hard for them to get away with it. You give the damn bullies consequences. Remember those? You stopped teaching about those a few years back, right about when you stopped teaching logic and critical thinking.

Until you do this, it won't stop. It will keep going. You can't wish it away. You can't close your eyes and pretend.

You're just as responsible as they are for what they do, what they get away with, and the damage they leave behind.

Well? I'm waiting...


Thursday, August 20th, 2009 04:56 pm
auntbijou: (Calcifer)
Okay, next year? Remind me to never, never, ever again go school supply shopping ALONE with my kids. No, seriously, put it on your calendars for August of next year, "Remind Auntie DO NOT GO SCHOOL SUPPLY SHOPPING ALONE WITH YOUR KIDS!!"

And then remind me, over and over again.

*bangs head into wall repeatedly*
auntbijou: (Calcifer)
I do not understand the people who live in my house, sometimes. Especially the oldest one. You'd think, after being married to me for 18+ years, he would know that when I am in a grumpy, snarly mood to just... leave me alone. You'd think the two younger ones would know to stay away and not keep coming in every ten seconds to ask me questions.

I should come with a warning sign. "Warning: Grumpy, Snarly, Grouch Bear. Do not provoke Bear. Do not approach Bear. Do not address the Bear. Management not responsible for loss of fingers, toes, arms, or head. You have been warned."

I am grumpy, I am snarly, I am easily pissed off right now and do not want to be poked, hugged, cheered up, sympathized with, or otherwise bothered. Just give me the damn chocolate and make yourself scarce!!

*snarling and growling as she slinks back into her den*
auntbijou: (Default)
I was a grumbling, snarling, very cranky and bad-tempered Bear yesterday.

For one thing, I felt like crap. Don't ask me why. I just... didn't want to do anything and I scared the Husbandly One to death when he tried to pop a bit of chocolate in my mouth (to appease the Bear, you see) and... I didn't want any.

Yeah, I know, some of you are probably wondering why he didn't take me to the emergency room. Auntie, especially Auntie the Bear, refusing chocolate? Unheard of!

He thought about it, believe me.

Wanna know how bad I was yesterday? Everybody is avoiding me today. And I'm not the least bit bear-like today!!


For another, yesterday was the first day of NaNoWriMo, and everything I started was absolute crap. No, really, I mean it, it was absolute, unadulterated crap. Y'all, I was seriously considering throwing up my hands and abandoning the writing gig completely. Seriously. You know, turn in my resignation to the Gods of Writing, give the Muse a pink slip, the whole nine yards. I was TIRED of it all, and I was also tired of sitting and staring at a blank screen for what felt like hours on end, then when I finally got going... someone would come in to talk to me and completely blow my train of thought, and... I couldn't get it back again.

It was driving me NUTS!!

I'm afraid I got very... snarly. I actually snarled at THO when he came in to tell me how awful the UT Longhorns football game was going, and he was giving up watching it, and he wouldn't read my signals, or couldn't see the fact that I was working on something and didn't want to be disturbed, and I finally snapped something like, "I'm so happy for them," or something equally horrible.

It was not a good night.

Finally, near midnight, something finally stirred in my sluggish brain, and I finally got 1, 210 words written, which was way under what I wanted to write, but hey, it's a beginning, and the story doesn't make me want to vomit, though it does make me wince a bit, and oh, gods, do I want to go back and edit, but it's not allowed, and...

I will not be a Bear today, I will not be a Bear today, I will not be a Bear today...

Chocolate. NOW!!!!

Tuesday, July 15th, 2008 02:40 pm
auntbijou: (Default)
My kids are driving me bananas.

Yesterday, they were arguing over who got to use the vacuum cleaner while cleaning the living room, and who had to clean under the big couch and who had to clean under the little couch (this involved crawling under said couches and pulling out the items that had disappeared under there. I am sure we will find Jimmy Hoffa at some point).

Yes. They were arguing over CLEANING.

*tears out hair*

Lest you think this is every mom's dream, let me say not much cleaning actually got done, and both miscreants got sent to their rooms, their computers turned OFF and their Nintendos in my pocket.

Today, it's constant arguing, and fussing, and I need chocolate in the worst way. As in enough to put me in a coma for the next two weeks, so when I wake up it's a whole new world. Preferably the day before school starts.

Think it's too late for me to sign them up for a military boarding school?

*grumbling and snarling*


*grumble grumble*

Saturday, June 2nd, 2007 09:55 pm
auntbijou: (Default)

Shopping for swimwear is not an exercise for the faint of heart.  If you see someone sitting on the beach wearing a long sleeved shirt, long pants, a big floppy hat, and big dark sunglasses, hiding behind a sketchbook... that would be ME.

something snarly

Saturday, March 31st, 2007 10:46 am
auntbijou: (Default)
I was a grumpy bear last night.  In fact, I went to bed early, thanks to a major dose of Benadryl, and the none too subtle nudgings of the Impossible Son.  "Mama, would you lay down with me? I'm tired, and I just want to go to bed.  The thunder's scary.  Please?"

I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.  Which is probably why I was none too pleased to be awakened barely an hour later when the Husbandly One said Miss Impertinent wanted to be tucked in.  So, being sleep-bleared and tweaked by that biological Mommy thing, I got up and went to do the tuck-in and the obligatory good night kiss, except as I reached to turn off the light, she chirped, "My tea?"

Every night, I make either a cup of Sleepy Time tea or Throat Soother's tea, depending on how she's feeling, with two teaspoons of local honey in it.  This has made a huge difference in her allergies (much to our mutual relief), and it's become sort of a ritual for us.  However, last night I had rather figured her papa had done it (he's done it before, no problem), and all I wanted to do was go back to bed and pass out again.  Desperately.  

I growled.

I made the damn tea.

And I went to bed, turning my back on the Husbandly One, and stolidly ignoring his overtures for cuddling.  And more.  I think I actually got a solid twelve hours of sleep, which was really nice.  Especially since I haven't seen sleeping all that well lately, thanks to not being able to breathe all that well.  Asthma sucks.  Big time.  Though to keep it in perspective, I'm much better than I've been, which is a Good Thing.

In other news, the Husbandly One wants to do a 5K tomorrow, which I'm not sure I'm ready for, and I have to admit, I'm somewhat apprehensive.  But he pointed out I've been doing more than that daily, so...

*pause for nerves*

I am sure I will survive.  Right?


Of course, I may plant all four feet down, lay back my ears, and BALK.  We'll see.  It may be just what I need to get me out of my current funk.  I will be sure to let y'all know how it all worked out.


Wednesday, December 20th, 2006 11:01 pm
auntbijou: (Default)
I am in one of those moods tonight.  I am cranky, I am grumpy, and just all around unpleasant.  It is one of those times when I want to rip the Husbandly One's arm off and beat him over the head with it, when I want to banish the kids to military boarding schools, and when I want to flee to somewhere unknown, where I can just sit and BASK in the aloneness with no one pestering me, or demanding my attention or wanting me to do something RIGHT NOW!  Where I can read a book and actually finish an entire paragraph in ONE SITTING.  Where I don't have to be the Bad Guy.  Because I am so very, very tired of being the Bad Guy, the Drill Sergeant, and Overall Lady of Doom.

I love the Husbandly One.  I love him dearly.  He is the best thing that ever happened to me, really, I do mean that.  But there are times... and oh, boy, isn't today one of those times, when I sincerely think about tossing him back and re-baiting my hook.  He loves our kids.  He adores them.  And he wants to be their pal.  We cannot be their pals.  We are their parents.  And sometimes, parents have to be Bad Guys.  We have to say No.  No, you can't go to that party.  No, you cannot have that toy.  No, you cannot go outside naked.  No, you are not allowed to have oranges because you are allergic to them and you will not only break out, you will vomit for the next twelve hours.  And sometimes, we get to say Yes.  Yes, you can have that bike.  Yes, you may cover yourself in goo and pretend you're a newly born Orc.  Yes, you may read for an extra hour.  Yes, I do love you so very much.  

What makes me so very grumpy and snarly is that I so very rarely get to be the person who says yes.  I am the No person.  And I absolutely hate that.  Because he says yes all the time.  Even when he says no, it sounds like yes, and the kids sense that.  Kids are like animals; they can sense weakness and go for the kill!  Ours know that they can wear Papa down.  Me, they try, but it doesn't work.  After a few minutes of begging and pleading, I usually look at them with a Hairy Eyeball and say, "Has this strategy ever worked before?"

"Um... no."

"And what makes you think it will work now?"

"Um... it was just to see if anything had changed."

"Nope.  Not going to happen."

"Er...yeah.  Didn't think so."

I used to be a fun person for kids to be around.  Lately, not so much.  And I resent that.  A lot.  

*sigh*  I'm going to go outside and shoot some hoops.  Sure, it's after 11, but the neighbors on that side have some real stinkers for kids, who are number one on my shit list right now (they've been scratching my car, on purpose, the little ... stinkers, and oh, yeah, I am restraining myself BIG TIME here), so I think they rather deserve to have their sleep disturbed by my banging a basketball on a concrete court and slamming it into the hoop a few times.  If I'm feeling REALLY pissy, I'll deliberately miss so it hits the backboard with a nice loud BANG!  

Yeah, I'm in a mood alright.  

Beware of Bear.


Monday, October 30th, 2006 08:29 pm
auntbijou: (Default)
Grumpy, snarling bear alert. A large, very grumpy, somewhat vicious bear was spotted in the vicinity of [personal profile] auntbijou's home. Do not approach the bear. Do not provoke the bear. Do not even try to offer the bear chocolate. If you come unexpectedly upon the bear, back away slowly, speak softly, and get away as quickly and as quietly as possible. Bear was last seen, huddled over computer keyboard, gripping head, and struggling with severe writer's block. Muse was nowhere to be found. Try to stay out of the way of the bear's claws and hope for the best.

This has been a warning.  Please stay inside your homes until the bear has been apprehended.  Thank you.

Gonna be a bear....

Saturday, July 29th, 2006 10:31 pm
auntbijou: (Default)
My dad sent this a while back, and I've been meaning to post it, but... well... until today, it wasn't relevant.   I have been a grumpy, snarly bear today.  I'm on the Hormone Highway, and though my mate has shoved chocolate at me at regular intervals, the effects haven't lasted long enough, and I'm just plain snarly.  To make things more difficult,  Hermione and Blaise are sitting in opposite corners, glowering at each other and refusing to cooperate, so I'm having a difficult time with part seven.  (sigh)  And I have a huge pile of data-entry to complete, and it's just been a grumbly, snarly, extremely grouchy, leave me alone and don't even think of touching me sort of day.  So when I rediscovered this humorous piece my dad sent me, I figured it was now relevant and entirely appropriate.  Excuse me while I retreat into my cave and curl up in the corner, snarling and growling!

Gonna Be A Bear


In this life, I’m a woman.  In my next life, I’d like to come back as a bear. When you’re a bear, you get to hibernate.  You do nothing but sleep for six months.  I could deal with that. 


Before you hibernate, you’re supposed to eat yourself stupid.  I could deal with that, too.


When you’re a girl bear, you birth your children (who are the size of walnuts) while you’re sleeping and wake to partially grown, cute, cuddly cubs.  I could definitely deal with that.


If you’re a mama bear, everyone knows you mean business.  You swat anyone who bothers your cubs.  If your cubs get out of line, you swat them, too.  I could deal with that. 


If you’re a bear, your mate EXPECTS you to wake up growling.  He EXPECTS that you will have hairy legs and excess body fat.


Yup, gonna be a bear!

September 2015

6789 101112
202122 23242526


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags