Thursday, September 20, 2012

IG killed FB

and that is fine by me.
There are few gadgetry things that I get hooked on.
I don't know where my ipod is but I do know it is the first generation mini. It's real old and it was loaded by my husband before he gave it to me as a gift (back when he got me gifts, ahem)
I am pretty big on FB but over the last 6 months I am less and less about chatting and just about posting pictures taken from my IG account. To those who don't use IG, you will not understand, to those that do- will.
I can't get enough.
At first I didn't really get it but it gave me a way to manipulate my pics of my kids, so I was into it.
Then I started to get followers. Then I started to follow. Then came the comments.
Something about someone telling you they hope your child feels better, when you've posted a pic of a sick babe, I don't know, it just feels like I am connected to the world. And the best part- not the whole world, just those who are genuinely interested in my world and more often than not, mine theirs.
It's cool to be a fly on the wall in their world. Looking through feeds of homeschoolers and their kids. Watching babies grow up. It's personal and yet narcissistic in the most perfect way. I blog so I know I like to hear myself "talk" but pictures... it's different. Sometimes it is hard to find the words, that is why so many blogs go unwatched. Actually that is why so many people don't have blogs, aren't writers and don't rely on post-its to guide them through their days. At times I'll get a quiet moment and come to the computer with a cup of tea and I just don't have it in me. It's either tough to put into words or there are so many words, my hands can't keep up, so I leave, curl up in my bed and take a nap.
Which to be honest, every time I am on the computer and the babies are sleeping, I think "you should go to sleep". I should and I will try but really I will just lay in bed, quietly and flip through IG.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Call the fuzz.

Really. I have to call, EVERYTIME I see them "drunk and disorderly"?
Well fuck it. I will.
I found out, thanks to my husband who did the digging, that the steps to take are as follows.
Step 1. See disgusting behavior.
Step 2. Call the 5-0.
Step 4. Repeat.

So here goes. I am going to rotate through these ridiculous steps and see if I can't bug the shit out of someone. After all my husband is on tour, so I need to bug someone.

Remember when you were young, like before legal drinking age, and you'd walk around with your friends and drink your poison (5 O'Clock vodka for me... I shudder to think) and when one of them would get out of hand, you would actually be trying to get them to act right, get them home or at least tell them to shut up? I do. I remember being aware that I could, oh I don't know GET ARRESTED, so that kept me in line, somewhat.

Today I met a friend at said park and she had read my recent blog entry. Wouldn't you know it, we got a repeat. Although this time we were there first, we sat in the benches with a back and we didn't move when they rolled in with their filthy mouths and filthier clothes (Elvis, "what's that smell Mommy?" Me, "good question"). So they are there, not yet drunk enough to fist fight but there was some yelling and one guy laying on the bench actually rolled off into the bushes and yes, he stayed down. I couldn't help but think I am turning cold because I did not give a shit if he was dead. I was just glad he didn't get back up on the bench- more room for the parents that are daring (less and less) to bring their kids.
Let me say this real quick, cause I have to go, if you are in a park and this is happening, take a stand. Do something. I think I will detour in my car anytime I am driving in the hood and if they are there (who am I kidding, they LIVE THERE) I am going to call the Pigs. "drunk and disorderly on 58th and 22nd NW", if I WE call enough, they might just have to do something.

Monday, September 17, 2012

This bums for you.

I like to think of myself as a pretty cool cucumber. When there is something to get mad about I like to think I do my best not to care. This is not to say I am mean or cold hearted. I am sensitive and caring and compationate. I buy the "Real Change" mag, I have "bum dollars" in my car to hand out at the random stop lights. I help wheelchair bound people reach high stuff in the market. I hold the door, let mergers in, I always let the guy on the right go around the "round abouts" and I would hand a dollar up to a man that dropped it. Shit, I would hand up $100 bill.
There are so many more examples. It's just been who knows how long since I have had time to write and now that I have a minute (like 4) I want to just get this off my chest.
Today as I was walking up to our local grassy knoll, splash park/benches galore, favorite hang out here in Ballard, I noticed something. 26 bums.
Bums (and if there was another word for them, I'd use it. Homeless, yes, but these guys, are b.u.m.s.).
It is not unlike this park to house a handful (okay, maybe 2) of these guys but today, it took my breath away- in the "go the fuck away!" kinda way. It pissed me off.
This is a splash park where little kids run half naked on hot days. It is where my son skateboards, it is where we have at least 3 outings to a week when the weather is nice. It is the American dream. We can walk there.
There have been more than one occasion of fights. Yelling matches and pot smoking. All of which I just go about my business. I am always of the mind that "they" need a place to hang out too. I have actually said this out load.
Today I had planned to go and nurse the baby on a bench, while my toddler... well, toddled in the water, chase birds- people watch but I couldn't get past the rage I had that every single bench was full. There are a ton. There are many, many places to sit and they were all taken. One was actually open, this is where I sat and right next to it a grocery cart full of what could only be the rotting carcass of an old, giant squid.
So what? What the fuck to do?
I am sick of these smoking (I actually don't mind the pot as much as the cigarettes), fall down drunk, screaming, swearing FILTHY fools. I am sick of it. I will not retreat to my home. I will not feel bad anymore that they don't have a place to go. GO TO THE FUCKING GRASS, OUT OF THE WAY OF THE KIDS RUNNING BY YOUR GODDAMN BEER CANS, STEPPING ON YOUR CIGARETTE BUTTS!
I am going to do something. I am not going to let this go. I am nice, but I'm not a dumb bitch. I know I have some goddamn rights here. There has got to be something said for all that is going on in the park and NOTHING happens and I got a ticket parking in front of MY HOME for facing the wrong way.
I fought that ticket and I won.
Imma' win this shit too.