Crack Doesn’t Kill, It Just Makes Me Very Uncomfortable.

I love women’s fashion. Beautiful dresses and shoes galore. It became apparent early in my life that I would always choose comfort over couture. Trying different looks was short-lived, and I ended up being the jeans-and t-shirt girl that I am. I love a good pair of well-fit, broken-in jeans. My newly-developed concern for ever-changing fads are the cute low-rise jeans of today.

They seem to be getting lower and lower. They look adorable standing
but as soon as you sit or bend, it’s peek-a-boo with your backside. I
have spent a good chunk of time making sure this doesn’t happen to me.
Checking just how far I can bend before you see the top of my buns.
It’s always in the front of my mind. So I’m puzzled as to how so many
woman don’t feel the need to practice my ritual of modesty.

To say it bluntly: “I see a lot of crack.“ More and more everyday. How are they not aware that the top of their ass is exposed???

In addition, is there a polite way to tell someone they should ”pull
up their britches“? I have yet to find one. Am I gradually entering
the over-the-hill phase of my life, where you stop evolving with the
masses? Is it now acceptable to show your butt? I’m baffled!

Men have been mooning for as long as I can remember. It has been
universally labeled “plumber’s butt” and rightly so. It has always
been an off-putting sight, and negative as a whole. I can’t help but
feel the same way towards the female side of this wardrobe
malfunction.

It’s like a car wreck….I can’t look away…

When Legend Becomes Fact Print The Legend

When I moved to Austin, everybody would talk about all the things I had to do and needed to see. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre House was first on everybody’s list. I wasn’t really interested in seeing a house where a massacre took place, still everybody insisted. I started doing
some research about this infamous slaughterhouse and the blood bath that took place there in the 1970s.

What I found was very interesting: a whole lot of NOTHING…No newspaper
articles, no mug shots of Leatherface, and no death certificate for Grandpa.

It’s all fabricated.

Still, people swear that this gruesome event actually happened — a
friend of friend knew the family.

Whatever.

I see how it could be exciting to live where a historic event took
place, but a chainsaw-wielding cross-dresser and his enabling family? It kind of makes me sick.

I can’t fact people into submission — they would rather believe the
story. Not such a huge departure from our country’s history (or
history in general): full of fabrications, and exaggerations,
Thanksgiving, I cannot tell a lie about cherry trees, ect. The
hypocrisies aren’t hidden; you just have to look in places that
haven’t been filtered into being flattering and school
textbook-appropriate.

I am fascinated with child development and the fact that no parent
will ever get this very tricky responsibility right. Seeing the pure,
trusting excitement that a child feels when they know that Santa has
brought presents, or that the Easter bunny has scattered chocolate
eggs all over the backyard, may come at a price. The smiles are
warming to our hearts, but has some kind of eventual emotional damage
taken place at their expense? I can only speak for myself, but I
couldn’t help but feel confused and lied to when I found out
one-by-one that

the holiday characters that I thought loved me didn’t exist

not to mention

having all the infinite dreams and magic smashed into millions of sparkly shards that blew away with all of my possibilities.

After I learned that all the holiday magic was a big, fat lie, I found
myself questioning my faith in God. It’s like the boy who cried wolf;
after so many false alarms, I wasn’t going to fall for it again. Oh
yeah sure, God’s real… It was a very harsh reality check.

I would love to conduct an experiment with children being raised in
reality: pure and simple, no lies or candy-coated concepts. I would
just like to see if they were more realistic in life choices, more
selfless, and more contributing as a whole. Don’t worry Moms: I will
never have babies. My sister nearly killed me when I told my niece
that Santa was really her mommy and daddy. She still hasn’t forgiven
me for it, and my niece still chose to believe in Santa.

Santa’s Sweat Shop

It’s no secret that I hate the holidays. I have tried to celebrate them. My favorite holiday character is Scrooge; unlike him, I don’t have the ghosts of
Christmas past, present, or future to help me see the error of my
ways. I am so over the “God bless us every one,” I want to take Tiny
Tim’s crutch and knock him over the head with it.

We try desperately to hold on to the Christmas holiday traditions that
have been successfully preserved and embedded into our minds. We don’t
question the rather questionable customs. With Halloween, the
inevitable dangers are so widespread that we now have our candy
x-rayed and pedophiles have had their trick-or-treating rights
revoked.

Conversely, Christmas has remained unchanged with our ever-changing
times. Do we feel that Santa Claus is an acceptable holiday icon for
the children of today? He’s a really old man, who has no children of
his own, but loves kids so much he has spent countless years
overlooking poor little elves frantically slaving away as they make
toys for the Santa following children of the world. He is welcome into
your homes. If you think about it, Santa really fit’s the
stereotypical profile of a child molester. What parent would let their
child desire the attention of a grown man who has no children and a
never-ending supply of gifts and candy? (Michael Jackson) I would be
skeptical.

I just think it’s confusing. We teach children not to take candy from
strangers… with Santa being an exception. We still lug our kids to
the mall for the traditional sitting on Santa’s lap photo-op. I have
seen so many trembling babies being forced to sit on Santa’s lap so
mom and dad can capture the perfect moment of Baby’s First Christmas.
But all the babies are crying hysterically! They don’t want to sit on
some strange man’s lap! Still, you convince your kids to pose for
pictures. It’s traumatizing.

Santa is never ever liked at first glance – we have to teach kids
that he gives candy and presents, and then they love him. Is Santa
the foundation for all of the greed and excess in our
consumer-thriving, uncaring economy? He gets all the thanks and
gratitude while most people are still paying off last year’s holiday
generosity. We do it to ourselves.