…by saying “that is NOT okay!”
…in precisely the same tone I use when I say that to the Dictator.
…and he gave me the same look she does.
…by saying “that is NOT okay!”
Things I don’t recommend: Coaching mini-soccer (i.e. constant running for sixty minutes ) followed immediately by half an hour as Jillian Michaels’ bitch.
I’ve never been so acutely aware of my quads before tonight.
Laughing is the worst. Stairs are the worst. Sitting down is the worst. Lifting my arms is the worst.
except laying prone is the worst.
I split my time between two offices, and employees often have a hard time keeping track of me. One of my awesome people decided to help out and took it upon himself to make me a couple of door signs for my two-days-a-week office.
I laughed so hard when he presented me with these.
Accurate depiction is accurate.
But apparently, 1/30th of the way to less fat. So there’s that.
- Waist: 31”
- Spare Tire That Appeared Out of Nowhere: 40”
- Hips: 41”
- Thighs: 24.5”(R) and 24”(L)
- Upper arms: 12.5”(R) and 12”(L)
He’s a bug named Olivia, who she’s been carrying around in an empty coffee tin since she found him this morning.
Dictator thinks he’s really shy. I don’t have the heart to tell her that Olivia’s not shy so much as he’s really, really dead.
Some people bring this shit upon themselves though. I don’t think we can fight human nature 100% of the time.
I think what she’s brought upon herself is a failed business, potential human rights lawsuits from her staff, and perhaps an investigation into her labour practices - all natural consequences of the way she runs her business.
Regardless of human nature, it’s not right for people to behave the way they’re behaving (including Amy herself). It’s just… mean. And being human means we have the ability to control human nature in a lot of situations. This should be one of them.
So, Amy’s Baking Company. Trainwreck, right? I’ll admit that it’s incredible to watch/read, and full disclosure: I’ve been paying close attention to the entire situation because I just couldn’t look away. I was both entertained and horrified by the show itself, and Amy’s responses to the people who have chosen to interact with her. I want to shake her and say, “You know it won’t be fun for them anymore if you just stop responding, right? Don’t give them fodder, and they’ll go away.”
But here’s the thing: If this were happening to a child, we’d be all over the bullies, shaming them for such blatant harassment, and consoling the victim - not hopping on the voyeuristic bandwagon and/or contributing to the harassment.
Because that’s what it is - harassment. Plain and simple. In this world of Pink Shirt Days and anti-bullying campaigns, why are we blaming the victim? Is she contributing to the situation? Absolutely. But why is that the focus? Why aren’t we shaming the people who are provoking her responses in the first place?
I don’t condone the way Amy & Samy treat their staff. I don’t condone the way they treat their customers. They kind of seem like awful people, and I have no idea how they’ve managed to stay in business this long.
But that doesn’t make any of this okay.
As I said, I’ve been watching all of this unfold. I’ve seen the Kitchen Nightmares episode twice, and told my husband it was a must-see. I followed her Tumblr, and I read all the (now-deleted) Facebook nonsense. I know this makes me a hypocrite, and I tried to justify this by convincing myself that my being part of the audience isn’t hurting anyone and isn’t contributing to the situation. But it is, in some small way. So I’m done watching.
Please be done watching, too.
Mid-conversation, Kik decided to start sending message notifications but no actual messages. Twenty minutes later, it’s still sending me a new notification every 30-60 seconds. That’s not annoying at all.
Anyone else having issues today?
GPOYKW: First Meeting
This picture was actually taken the day after we met Dictator, but the photos of our very first meeting actually make me pretty sad - there was so much pain colouring our joy.
But when I look at this picture, all I remember is feeling overawed by this tiny person. I had tried (unsuccessfully) to avoid falling in love with the idea of her before she was born, but holding her the day after she was placed with us… there was just no holding back. I was in love, wholly and completely.
Because I was relieved to realize I hadn’t actually heard a daycare worker ask a three-year-old “Michael, is this your g-string on the table?”
A single glass of wine + my “down” playlist = instant sedative/depressant
Romance: The 15-Years-Later Edition
(The Husband is on a golf trip and managed to train the Dictator to bring me a card this morning that they’d squirrelled away some time last week. I was not so forward thinking, so you know. Boobs.)
You’d better be “0 returning visits”, my friend.