Something that stayed with me, and a post script, just in case you didn't already know.
So I woke up Saturday morning, September 15, foggy and maybe just a little bit hungover. I might have been a little bit drunk still. It was mid-JoyceFest, and I was sleeping in a tent. The truth of the matter is I woke up no less than five times that night and stumbled to the bathroom, mostly in the dark. Mostly. The second the sun started peeking out over whatever the hell kind of trees they have in Wisconsin Dells, however, all over the campground, children were unleashed from their tethers and released into gen pop.
I don't really care for kids. Let me rephrase that: I don't like kids at all. I can say that, just like you can say "I don't like Alka Seltzer" or "I don't like broccoli". I'm in the clear, because I never had any (there are a lot of people out there that can't really say the same). Every now and again you run into a few that are okay, but in general, not a fan. Here's a few of the myriad of reasons why I don't like them: they scream, they yell, they play really loud, and they don't have any consideration of others. I suppose at three, four, maybe even eight years of age, they can get away with all this, because they have parents. Parents that SHOULD have some consideration of others. Others that happen to be trying to sleep off Day Three of a four day binge. In a tent. Made of nylon. Held together with a hair clip.
Okay, you're in a campground in a family-friendly resort town in the Midwest. You have to put up with this sort of thing. Fine. Here's my bitch: They are so FLIPPING LOUD. I mean, seriously? It occurred to me as I lay there with the sleeping bag over my head, fighting dawn, that we are raising a society of completely selfish, self-centered attention mongers (well, I'M not..). Who can scream the loudest? Who can get the most attention? Me! ME! MEEEEEE!! These are the same little brats that can't sit through a signing without interrupting constantly, banging toys against the walls, climbing onto their parents lap while they are trying to secure their future. These are the cherubs that throw fits in the supermarket or at a restaurant because their parents are paying attention to something else. The same kids that try to get your attention when you are clearly ignoring them. It's time to get something straight, kiddies: You are about to enter a world where nobody gives two shits about your needs because they are too intent on their own. Learn NOW how to make an impact without being obnoxious. It will serve you well in the future, if you make it that far.
The post script? I'll be brief. If you haven't figured it out already, I'm a Duck fan. Been one my whole life. I think it's pretty clear. For reasons beyond the obvious (see: "I'm a Duck fan" fifteen words ago), I don't like the Beavers. At all. Actually even more than I don't like kids. Here's how it goes in my Duck fandom - I'm going to root for anybody who is playing the Beavers (except the Huskies - when that game happens I just don't have an opinion). So when I post on a particularly popular social media site "Go Badgers" or "Go whoever is playing OSU", don't give me any lectures. I honestly cannot give a red hot shit about why you're a fan. Or THAT you're a fan. You have your fandom, I have mine. I acknowledge your posts about your beloved rats and I don't make a comment. Because you have your gig. This is mine. Rib me playfully if you feel you must - I probably won't bite, simply because the program speaks for itself (and I can't be bothered, since, you know, it's SATURDAY and I'm WATCHING FOOTBALL), but don't lecture me. You can kiss my motherfucking ass if you think that, because they are an "Oregon team" I should want them to do well. I don't. I absolutely never will. If you don't like how I feel, guess what? I'm not one of those screaming kids in the playground that give a fuck whether you pay attention to me or not. "Unfriend" me. Fuck if I care. I'm a Duck. This is how it always has been and always will be. ALWAYS. Don't try to give me a lesson on how I am supposed to act or feel. Shove your touchy-feely, "we're all Oregon teams" bullshit agenda up your ass. It has nothing to do with me.
And now that THAT'S done, I'm going to go take a shower and go buy some pants.