What If Trump Is A Symptom Of A Bigger Problem?

Those of us who are not following the masses into Trump super church rallies to watch him ridicule Mexicans/women/everyone not white may be looking around thinking “How did this happen?” And there are many reasons. Some are based in political history that I don’t understand and won’t attempt to preach about and other reasons may be a little closer to home. My take on all of this may not work for you, but since I’m a grown up and I can write a blog (along with 99% of the world) I’m going to share my theories with you. Feel free to click away and watch a YouTube makeup tutorial at any time.

Fame and fortune in just three easy steps.

Fame and fortune in just three easy steps.

Problem number 1: We love to make stupid people famous. And apparently President.

When we are willing to vote in a reality TV star to the highest position in our country, you have to wonder if we haven’t become so blindly obsessed with this celebrity culture that we can’t see straight. Media outlets are creaming in their panties over the numbers that Trump brings in and it shouldn’t come as a surprise…they are giving us exactly what we want. A train wreck, a celebrity, a constant gag fest of commentary, and a human who doesn’t care what you think about him. Guess what? That’s every reality show on TV and a shit ton of shaming videos on YouTube that get more views than a Playboy  magazine in 1978. And we are so busy being absorbed into this media jerk off session that we can’t turn off the TV or switch off the internet long enough to realize that we have done this to ourselves.

We are burning this motherfucker to the ground. Trump or no Trump.

We are burning this motherfucker to the ground. Trump or no Trump.

Problem number 2: We are ignoring the real problems in our own communities and OUR OWN HOMES.

Like oh..I don’t know…racism and bullying, You think Trump is the only one being a racist prick? Think he’s the only American promoting a bullying agenda? Hardy fucking har. People are following him and supporting him because they are him. Maybe not you and maybe not me, but enough people. Racism is alive and well in America. I live in one of the least diverse, whitest states in the Union and you can bet your sweet ass I’ve seen racism. I saw it in my own home growing up. My dad used terms that I still have to Google to understand when he would describe people of different ethnic backgrounds. When I moved to Vegas at the age of 20 and had African American neighbors for the first time, he gave me a stern warning about locking my doors. I know I’m not alone in growing up with extremely racist and hate-filled commentary. Trump has simply tapped in to our cultural acceptance of hatred. Maybe not you and maybe not me, but enough people. Trump is a bully? My neighbor calls her grand-kids “little fuckers” when she is disciplining them behind closed doors. I only know this because she leaves her windows wide open and screams at the top of her lungs. My son has been picked on at school and currently isn’t allowed to play football with his peers because he’s “too small”. Instead he’s ridiculed until he hides behind the portables and cries. We are bullying our own children, who in turn are bullying others. Maybe not you and maybe not me, but enough people. Yeah, Trump is a problem, but he is only a symptom of what we already are, folks.

This is the monster WE have created.

This is the monster WE have created.

I’m upset, too. I don’t want Trump to become President of the United States. But we have to take some accountability as to how and why this happened. We created a monster. We stopped shoveling our neighbors’ driveways and started obsessing about the Kardashian clan. We stopped treating one another as we would like to be treated and started laughing at YouTube videos of people being abused or shamed in public. (Sound like a Trumpy move?) We stopped taking care of the people in our own homes and started dividing ourselves into divisive groups based on our hatred of others. Now those groups are ganging up and they are mad. They want their voices heard and they falsely believe that Trump hears them. They want a revolution. Maybe not you and maybe not me, but enough people.

Your Dog Doesn’t Need A Latte

We took my grandma out for dinner a few weeks ago to an extremely clean, very sneeze proof buffet (which is the only kind I will even consider eating at). Everything was going along smashingly until my sweet grandma turned to me and said “Do you think that’s a service dog?” Across the restaurant, placing its paws on a previously disinfected table, was a small breed white dog with no collar and absolutely no tell-tell signs of being a service dog. I gagged a little thinking about these dog owners dragging a handful of rogue dog hair back to the salad bar and having it drift into the ranch dressing while their loving little poodle made a tootsie roll on the table. I wanted to scream “Take your fucking pet home and stop ruining it for real service animals, jackass.” Instead I just glared in their general direction, covered my entire body in hand sanitizer, and sprinted out the front door.

Your dog looks like he's really enjoying that espresso. #nope

Your dog looks like he’s really enjoying that espresso. #nope

Before we all have a come apart about my insensitivity towards animals and especially service animals, let me calm your tits with this little tidbit of info…I love animals and my family and I raised service animals for many years. Guide Dogs For The Blind allowed us to take their puppies for the first year of their training in order to get them acclimated to living with a family, learning basic commands, and being socialized in public places. While training our service dogs in public places, they were required to wear a vest that clearly stated their purpose. The first time my brother and I were in charge of taking our yellow lab on a grocery store adventure, we both began bawling in the parking lot at the thought of our little puppy dropping a load in the bread aisle.

“Please don’t make us take him in there. He’s going to poop and then everyone at school will see us cleaning up poop in the grocery store and we will never be able to show our face in public again.” The teenage drama was thick, but we all survived that trip and many others with our service pups.

Dog Poop

We not only took our dogs to grocery stores, but to restaurants, schools and many other public places. It was cool and not weird because they were actually service animals and not someone’s sweet little Bichon Frise wearing a ruby encrusted collar and licking the salt shaker at a fast food restaurant. The truth is…your dog doesn’t need a latte or a buffet salad and if they aren’t a service animal, they need to stay home.

Working at a coffee shop has opened my eyes to how entitled people feel when it comes to their pets and frankly…it’s disgusting. Last week we had to ask a customer to please take her pet outside after finding out it was not a service animal. We kindly asked her to take her four legged friend outside and she rudely stomped out the door yelling “You need to calm down.” Yes, we are the one’s who need to calm down. Another time, a woman placed her small dog on top of the condiment bar where patrons are meant to add sugar and cream to their coffee. Her sweet little Boo Boo began rubbing his shaved rectum all over the counter while she checked her phone and opened a straw. That’s not service dog behavior, that’s fucking disgusting. And that is terrible pet owner behavior. I don’t take my kids to Target and let them wipe their bare asses on all the two liter bottles of soda while I completely ignore them and scroll Facebook. (Or do I? No…I usually don’t). Unless your pet is a service animal, having been trained on how to act in public, they don’t need to go inside every fucking business establishment you frequent on your Saturday afternoon errands. That is what drive through windows and dog sitters are for.

Lookie lou...you can get your latte without taking your dog inside. #shocking

Lookie lou…you can get your latte without taking your dog inside. #shocking

You love your pet, I’m compassionate to that. I love your pet, too. Especially when Mr. Tickles isn’t rubbing his ass on my condiment bar or sniffing for a place to poop atop a table in the only buffet restaurant I can eat at. Or used to be able to eat at.


Young Love And A Starbucks Card

When I was in elementary school there was a popular boy who had a crush on me in February. This is the perfect month to be crushing or have someone crushing on you because it can only mean one thing…PRESENTS. (Unless you are married, then it means something else.) My February crush gave me a stuffed Valentine’s Day bear and a note proclaiming his love for me, a love he promised would never end. It ended three days later. But I kept that bear and in high school, when I couldn’t get a boy to give me a pity box of those chalk flavored Valentine’s heart candies, I reminisced about that one February day in 4th grade when someone thought I was lovable. Now I have kids and watching those grade school crushes move in and out of their lives faster than a bowel movement is substantially more painful than the years I spent having no Valentine.

I'm going to take a hard pass on these.

I’m going to take a hard pass on these.

Three weeks ago my son began using hair gel in quantities that would have made the guys from Jersey Shore jealous. His hair was weighed down and lacquered up and my mom intuition told me something was going on.

“What’s with the fancy hair?”

“My crush has a crush on me, so I need to look handsome.”

He also started dousing himself with a can of Axe spray that we keep in the guest bathroom in case someone drops a smelly poo. The cologne smells only slightly better than a turd, but I ran out the good stuff. The romance was on and so was his black button up shirt and his nicest pair of jeans.

And then like wind between your cheeks, it was over. One day he came home from school with a droopy face and told me that his crush liked someone else. He stopped doing his hair and hasn’t showered in a month. It was heartbreaking, but at least we wouldn’t be spending twenty five dollars on a heart shaped box of chocolates or an overpriced giraffe sporting a red bow. Financial crisis averted.

I’m not the only one dealing with the Valentine’s Day gift giving charade. While at work last week, a woman and her 12-year-old son came in for a gift card and after three months of trying to decide which heart shaped card he wanted, they finally handed me one.

“How much would you like me to put on this?”

That’s when all hell broke loose. The son wanted to put 15 on the card, his mother was only willing to give 5 of her own money, which including his 5 only added up to 10. (I’m a math whiz, right?)

“But you promised.” The whining continued as I held the gift card in my hand and awkwardly watched the two of them like I was enjoying a new Netflix original program.

“We are still going to get her a card and a treat, so I think 10 dollars is plenty.” This is the exact moment where I became very jealous, very quickly.

“Fine. Just put 15 on it, please.” She turned to her son to make sure he knew that they would figure this out at home and I’m almost sure she meant that she would just pay for the whole thing and never bring it up again.

Picture it as a heart and then boom...you know what I'm getting for Valentine's Day.

Picture it as a heart and then boom…you know what I’m getting for Valentine’s Day.

A 15 dollar Starbucks card, a treat, and a card? I’ve been married almost 16 years and I don’t get shit like that. My husband is jizzing in his pants over getting us a heart shaped pizza and a dollar store card that he will probably sign with his first and last name because he still thinks I’m not completely clear on who he is. This junior high school gal has no idea what kind of Valentine’s Day gifts she will be forced to pretend she loves in 25 years. Like when her husband sends her a box of chocolate covered strawberries and he’s already eaten all but two. There will be no mom there to buy her a Starbucks gift card or a special treat. Your special treat becomes a half eaten Hershey’s bar that your kids forgot about from Christmas. Happy Valentine’s Day to you!

I’ll be over here snuggling that stuffed bear from elementary school, if anyone needs me.