Category: Crankypantsing

Crankypantsing, Ladybusiness, News & Politics

This day. I just don’t even.

Shelly

First, from the ACLU blog, if you’re a girl in Delhi, Louisiana and you are even suspected of being pregnant, you lose your rights to bodily autonomy and privacy. You must submit to a pregnancy test. If you refuse, you will be kicked out of school. If you take the test and are pregnant, you will be kicked out of school.

This, after a “quote in a box” image that circulated on Facebook over the weekend, stating that pregnant teens need an ass whipping. Because child abuse will solve EVERYTHING.

This world is not a safe place for women, and it’s an even less safe place for girls.

Second, this world is also not a safe place for brown people. My heart goes out to the Sikh community. I am sorry an entitled, racist, hate-filled white dude had access to guns. I’m sorry that racist news media has made a business out of spreading misinformation and intolerance, adding fuel to the fire of would-be terrorists like Wade Michael Page. I’m sorry.

Third, I’m sick to death of smug “christians” who insist that it’s Just Fine to hate the sin as long as they don’t hate the sinner. They frame it as “disagreeing with” homosexuality. As if it’s just a differing of opinions. They call it a “lifestyle choice.” As if being straight were a “lifestyle choice.” They claim that it’s possible to disagree with someone’s choices, but still love that person. Well, that’s bullshit, and it’s beneath contempt. Being gay is not a fashion choice. It’s not something you can just decide to stop being. It’s an integral, interwoven part of you. JUST LIKE BEING STRAIGHT is. So when you say that you hate homosexuality, you ARE, in fact, saying that you HATE gays. HATE. And last time I checked, Jesus said we should love our neighbors, not hate them. You can’t have it both ways.

Fourth, I’m pretty well over all the ignorant, bigoted assholes who think everyone is being a big meanypants to Chick-fil-a, just because the company’s president exercised his freedom of speech. “Waaah! You must tolerate our intolerance!” This was not about freedom of speech. This was about a company that funnels millions of dollars to hate groups like the Family Research Council and pray-away-the-gay groups like Exodus International. Why would anyone with a shred of human decency give a penny to them, knowing where that money is going to go? So fuck you, Dan Cathy, and fuck the horse you rode in on, and fuck all the hate-mongering “christians” who line up to eat your bigot chicken knowing full well that they’re supporting HATE.

Crankypantsing, My Garden, Photography

Gang Wars in Zinniatown

Shelly

Hi! Remember me? I’ve been busy doing lots of nothing. And by nothing, I mean NOTHING. I have new neighbors who decided that the middle of the night was the perfect time to move in, and they’re stompy stompers, so I’m over tired and totally lacking in any kind of sense of humor about the situation. Seriously, do they HAVE to drop boxes on my head at 1am? I DO NOT THINK SO.

And then they woke me up at the asscrack of dawn, which means I was wandering around aimlessly at butterfly o’clock. And my camera was handy. So I took some pictures, which is kind of like doing something. It may be all I accomplish today.

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Hobomok Skipper (Poanes hobomok) on Zinnia

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And then this adorable little honey bee came along and chased off the skipper and stole his flower. Poor skipper.

Crankypantsing, Photography

Blobby, Blobby, Blobby

Shelly

South Side of the Library

Have you noticed that phenomenon where, if you say a word over and over and over and over again, it starts to sound weird? We had another fire “alarm” today, and while the computerized voice was repeating “Lobby, lobby, lobby,” it started to sound like, “Blobby, blobby, blobby.”

Welcome to my brain.

The sun was shining though, and while standing around outside, waiting for the all-clear, I looked up at the building through the trees. It’s not a pretty building, but from certain angles, it can seem quite lovely.

Crankypantsing

Cordpocalypse Revisited

Shelly

Bookshelves

Cordpocalypse was making the Baby Shelly cry, so I got a cheap-assed TV table from IKEA. The cables are still a mess, but the table is so low that you can’t see them unless you sit on the floor. Which I do not do. Problem solved!

So I think I’m done with that project. FINALLY.

(I’ll spare you the details of me hooking up the TV wrong. Ins go to outs and outs go to ins, which I know, but my brain went on strike about half way through rewiring everything. When I turned on the TV to test it, the picture was grainy. I screwed around for–I kid you not–two hours, thinking it was a bad cable. I swapped all of them out, and THEN I figured out what the problem was. Duh. And then, just as I got everything fixed, the main cable leading to the modem–the one that snakes aaaaaaaallllllll the way around the living room because some asshole decided to put the cable jack in the goddamn hallway–shorted out. No signal. BUPKIS. That meant a surprise trip to Target to buy another big ol’ hank of coax. Also, it meant ripping out the little clips along the baseboard that held the cable in place, rerunning the cable, and attaching more clips. FUN TIMES.

And yes, that was me sparing you the details. Believe it or not!)

Crankypantsing

Crankypantsing, Ahoy!

Shelly

I’m sitting for Kidney Cat again. I made appointments, per the owner’s instructions, for sub-q fluids at his vet. So I get to today’s appointment, and they don’t have me down. Great. I don’t know if that office has always been this disorganized, or if this is something new, but it sure is a mess now.

I’d been considering switching my cats over there, since I’m there all the time and it’s close to my house. I think I’ll stay where I am, though.

Also, what is it with people with out-of-control dogs on Flexi leashes? They’re called RETRACTABLE leads for a reason. Reel in your little monster, pleaseandthanks. He belongs on the DOG side of the waiting room, not over on the cat side, shoving his face into a sick cat’s carrier and barkbarkbarking. I love dogs, but I really wish dog owners would understand that not everyone finds their precious Fluffy quite as charming as they do.

Crankypantsing

Wrong Number

Shelly

Wrong Number

Why do people have to argue when you tell them they have the wrong number? This has happened to me several times, so it’s not like it’s an isolated incident. Case in point, this gem from last year. (Sorry about the crappy image quality. I hated not being able to do screenshots on my old Blackberry.)

Wrong Number

At least neither of these winners threatened to “beat my ass.” Also, what the hell is a “chick fag”?