so don't ask if you don't want to know
Posts tagged bitching
Watching Dollhouse
Jan 12th
The show itself isn’t really the subject of this post. For some reason it hasn’t been recording on my DVR and with intermittent reports of it being canceled I thought there was only one final episode I didn’t see… last week’s.
So I went to FOX.com and found there were actually four episodes I’ve missed. What I really want to complain about – because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t complain – is the little 15 second commercial that runs before/during/after. The same 15 second commercial, starting with “Love Hurts” so it’s even more annoying. I hate Nisson right now.
There is only one commercial so it is better than real TV. But come ONNNNNN! One commercial over and over again, especially when I’m watching multiple episodes? That’s not fair!
Yes, I know I could watch it on Hulu, but there’s even more commercials and repetition over there. Just sayin’
Bitch bitch moan moan
Edward R. Murrow oughta slap a dude.
Nov 17th
This comment slid past my twitter stream and caught my attention:
Journalism schools should not be teaching students how to get a job. They should be teaching them to tell stories.
Wha-what?
Now I don’t want to get into a pissing match with this particular dude. He gets particularly touchy about his newspaper background. So I respond politely with:
I think stories means made-up. Maybe they should teach them to state the facts in an interesting way.
To which he replies:
That’s your bias. Stories can also be truthful and accurate. A good journalist is a storyteller.
So I look it up.
sto⋅ry
–noun
1. a narrative, either true or fictitious, in prose or verse, designed to interest, amuse, or instruct the hearer or reader; tale.
2. a fictitious tale, shorter and less elaborate than a novel.
Fine, technically a story can be truth or fiction. I still think the word story implies fiction and I’m pretty sure I’m not alone.
But after the steady declining of journalistic integrity and the news being taken over by businessmen, where are the real journalists? Should so-called journalists be telling stories?
I want real news back. I want straight facts, very little educated guessing and no fireworks and glitter. Can you imagine Walter Cronkite making shit up? Huntley or Brinkley taking sides on an issue? Or any of them spending hours gossiping about the private lives of reality show attention whores? I DON’T THINK SO!
And I don’t want to know if they ever did. I want to remember trusting the guy in the box. We need more guys in the box to trust. We need more men and women with integrity to go out and find the important news and give it to us straight with no frills, no filling and no corporate agenda.
Not tell stories.
I can get stories everywhere else.
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And I say guys in the box, because I think newspapers are dead. Yesterday’s paper can’t compete with 24 hour news channels and the Internet. I realize newspapers can go more in-depth with a subject than the local news can, but they don’t stand a chance. We’re so disenchanted with ALL journalists that we’re leery of more than the quick facts. The more I read, the more I wonder how much is fudged. I have friends in the news business and I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but you’re owned by the stockholders. I don’t trust you anymore.
The Wrong Bear
Nov 2nd
You know I have a Grammi Gummy Bear tattoo, right. That our family has an affinity for that particular program. Other than the cooking up stuff stuff, I relate to Grammi Bear.
I don’t usually relate to the Mother Bear until I come home and someone’s been sleeping in my bed and it’s all stinky. Someone’s been scarfing all the food and water in my fridge and not replacing it. Someone’s been using up all the fucking toilet paper in my bathroom and not getting more.
WHAT THE FUCK FAMILY!
It seems no matter how much I bitch, how many times I bring this shit up for discussion, how many time I go off on screaming tangents… nobody seems to give a shit about my feelings.
FUCK OFF!
I realize these are tiny little annoyances, but really they are each symptoms of the big giant disrespect I get. I put my foot down a couple of weeks ago and said basically, “get your goddam shit together and let me off the hook by December 1st.” Get real jobs, pay your bills on time, stop making me responsible for whether or not you eat. Get out of my life except for the normal amount of parent-adult child time most people subscribe to.
I’MFUCKINGDONE! IT’SNOTMYJOBANYMORE!
And yet… nothing. No change. Well, Casey’s managed to get other people to babysit most of last week – which I feel is just a gesture and pretty soon they’ll both be up my ass daily again. Ginnie STILL hasn’t tried to get a job. I get bullshit from her. Supposedly she’s applying online – doubtful. Then she’s waiting until she’s 19 on the 15th so she can get a better server job. Right. Fucking Excuses.
I FEEL LIKE I’M SPITTING AGAINST THE WIND.
How? How do I get my children to, as my new friend Donna would say, HARDEN THE FUCK UP. I feel so… powerless again. I’m not mealy mouthing and letting myself be a doormat. I’m telling them exactly what they need to do but they’re just ignoring me. I don’t want to be the screaming shrew but that’s the only idea I have left. I’ve stopped buying groceries other than what I want. I’ve made plans for myself regardless of what they want me to do. Why do I want to run away from MY HOME?
I’m going to die on December 1st and you all need to get on without me.
