I'm breaking up with Facebook

Dear Facebook,

It’s been a wonderful few years with you, but I think it’s time we see other people.

You share all my likes and dislikes with everyone.  What used to be just between us isn’t anymore;  all the intimacy has ticked away.

I constantly learned new things, trying to stay with you.  I changed who I was and how I did things, just to please you.  It’s not about us. It’s always only been about you. 

You cared nothing about my needs, you narcissistic megalomaniac, no matter how often or loudly I protested.  Even when 250 of my friends agreed you were a douche, you didn’t care.  My pleas in CAPS LOCK meant nothing to you.

You only listen when you want, spied on my most private internet moments, then taunted me with them, in the right sidebar.

I’m afraid to say anything.  You twist everything and apologize for nothing.  I’ve both hidden things from my friends and unwillingly shared with my enemies, based on your whims.

So many mornings I woke up to wonder what about you was going to be different and unfamiliar.

You’ve changed, Facebook. I just don’t know who you are anymore.

Sadly,

Averill

P.S. I’d like my shit back.

Boy-speak Versus Girl-speak "We're gonna have fun"

Attention guys:

When you have plans with a woman, please tell her what you’re going to do.

Don't simply say “we’ll have fun”.

We hear: 

"I'm going to have a gown delivered to your house, drape you in diamonds and take you to the opera."

You mean:

"I’m gonna slap on some assless chaps, pick up a pizza and drop by your house."

Ultimate Fighting Baseball

I have invented a new game …

America’s NEW Favorite Pastime:  ULTIMATE FIGHTING BASEBALL

Rules & Regulations

Rule #1:  No cups, no mouth guard, no protective gear whatsoever.  UFB is not for chickenshit mama's boys.
 
Rule #2:  As you slide into a base, you have to punch the baseman in the nuts or you are OUT!
 
Rule #3:  A foul ball is any hit not intentionally aimed at someone's face.
 
Rule #4:  If a batter hits a single, the catcher must bitch-slap the pitcher once. Twice for a double. Three times for a triple.  In the event of a homerun, the catcher must break the pitcher's nose.
 
Rule #5:  If a batter is tagged out, while trying to steal a base, his team must shout profanities at him as he returns to the bench.
 
Rule #6:  A line-drive to a fielder's nutsack is an immediate grand-slam, regardless of how many batters are on base.
 
Rule #7:  Umpires are encouraged to kick the players.
 
Rule #8:  If you don't slide into a base, when you should have, and are tagged out, your teammates may call a time out to drag you through the gravel.
 
Rule #9:  A baseman not in possession of the ball may slow a runner by tripping or fish-hooking.
 
Rule #10:  The medic shall only be equipped with salt & cyanide. If you can't take it, you are an embarrassment to the American people & deserve to die.
 
Rule #11:  Tie games are decided by a sudden-death punch off between the opposing captains' mothers.

~
 
It's not whether you win or lose, that matters, it's how badly you maim your opponents.
 
Now go out there and WIN, you f'ricking pansies.
 
God Bless America.

We need to have a little heart-to-fart talk

I have to get this out, because it’s causing an intense pain in my gut.

BOYS:  If you ever want us to find you sexy ever again, please don’t subject us to the toxic gaseous contents of your lower digestive tract. 

Yeah. No. We don’t love you unconditionally.

I don’t know a single woman who doesn’t complain about dudes farting.  Oh sure, your girlfriend might be a good sport in front of you, but secretly she hates your guts.  Literally.

Women spend hours a day ... HOURS ... agonizing over what we eat, what we can’t eat, how our butt looks, how soft our feet are, how silky our hair is, and that we only have hair in all the right places.  And, for special occasions, we even have it brutally ripped out to form a cute heart-shape so you'll think we're super-funsies.

The least you can do is clench your butt cheeks another 47 seconds until a commercial break, then walk 8.34 feet to the bathroom.    

I rolled my eyes at a male roommate once, when he cut one in front of me and he exclaimed “What??? Do you want me to be in pain? Do you want me to DIE???” 

No, you drama queen, I don’t want you to die.  But I also am fairly certain there isn’t any page in the Great Big Book of Gastro-Intestinal Medicine that says “In case of gas, pull a blanket over the head of a beautiful woman and poison her with the noxious emissions from your rectum.”

We know all the guy manuals have you convinced it’s an aphrodisiac, so we just wanted to clear the air and let you know that’s an urban legend.  It makes us not want to make out with you. 

FYI:  If we fart in front of you, it’s an ACCIDENT and we are mortified.   
Or we’re sleeping with your best friend and don’t care what you think anymore.

#TayTayMeetHannah

My friend Hannah recently wrote a letter, explaining why it would mean so much to her to meet Taylor Swift.

http://www.twitlonger.com/show/kfuigr

What you won't know, from Hannah's letter, is just how amazing her mom was.

Hannah's mom organized the Run For The Cure, in the city they live in, for 2 years.

Hannah's mom raised an incredible amount of money and was fighting cancer long before she was diagnosed herself.

She was fighting cancer for you, for me, for everyone.
And then she had to stop and fight for herself and her family.

Since she lost her mom, Taylor's music speaks to Hannah and for her, when all her feelings,
especially the ouchy ones, are overwhelming.

We need to do everything we can to put kids next to the people who inspire and comfort them.
Hannah has wonderful friends and an amazing family who love her very much,
but there's no such thing as a kid with too many people on her side.

So, please read Hannah's letter,  share it on FB, email it to your friends, retweet it,
and tweet the hashtag #TayTayMeetHannah.

And, if you know someone who knows someone who knows Taylor Swift,
please tell her Hannah would like to give her a hug and say hello.

My daughter's riding coach …

My daughter's  riding coach …

Rarely takes a day off, let alone demands one, often works 7 days/week, has never taken a sick day and never ever gets summers off.

She works in the blazing heat, freezing cold & is the one standing beside my daughter, when it's pouring rain and the rest of us are huddled under an awning.

She picks my daughter up, when her pony dumps her and drops her off, when she needs a ride home.

She shares her potato chips, fixes my daughter's clothes, gives her clothes, braids her hair, and lets her sleep over.

She encourages and corrects my daughter, patiently talks her through everything, and doesn't use red pen.

She hangs out with my daughter every time there's no school and is on-call 24 hours/day for pony injury or illness.

Most importantly, she genuinely cares about my child's future and would never hold it for ransom. 

She is thoughtful, not to mention exceptional, in everything she does, because she loves her job and loves children.

My wish for the children of Ontario?

I wish the Elementary Teacher’s Federation of Ontario would get even a teeny-tiny bit of inspiration from people like this who really do put children first.

Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes: Haaaated iiiiiiiiiit.

Saw "Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes" the other day.

I had to wonder how anyone who loves animals could think it was fun to watch.

The movie was a blockbuster laundry list of all the ways we fail other creatures. We steal them from their habitats, imprison them, test on them, compromise their well-being in favour of our own, misunderstand them, torture them, change them into creatures they’re not meant to be, break promises we make to care for them, abandon them, then slaughter them. 

Oh yeah.

And we celebrate when they're more like us ...
which is kinda weird, cuz all things considered, we're massive assholes.

~