Ranting and Raving

You know, I try to ignore crap, but sometimes it gets dumped in my lap, all hot and smelly.

There are two things that I don't like, yea two things that your blogger doth hate. Psychosomatic (spelling??) women and victim women. I work around a psychosomatic woman. Thank god not my director, but someone who's active enough to pretty much be in and out of the office constantly. I have never seen a more drama addicted woman in my life. She goes in the hospital at 4am Thursday because her potassium is low, and pitches a crying fit until they release her Friday. She then spends all Friday with a fundraiser until her blood sugar drops and she glazes over. The fundraiser she went to on Saturday resulted in a trip to the emergency room because she injured herself while learning a craft. And that's just in the last three days. Not saying she's not sick--but she ain't sick.

My bet is, she wouldn't be spending near as much time in the hospital if her Air Force spouse's benefits weren't paying for it. Did I mention that she and her husband both have filed involuntary commitment papers (yup, cart 'em off to the psych ward) against each other? Lovely. I can hardly wait to see what happens next. Get over yourself. Better yet, get to know people with REAL medical emergencies.

Second, victim women. I can hardly express how vile I find women who run back to their abuser/abusive situation. I know all about battered woman syndrome, so please don't try to educate me. I've worked in a women's shelter and known far too many people who were close to me who were abused. Someone tried it on me, and they ended up on their back with a massive bruise on their chest, and I'm 115 pounds, so suck it, you know who!

My jaw dropped to the floor when I heard, "He didn't do anything wrong except hit me." EXCUSE ME?? There isn't anything MORE wrong. Let the loser flop around in his own filth. Do you think he'd give *you* a helping hand?? Hardly. He starts to feel the pain of real life, and comes crying back wanting help. Go fuck yourself. That's what I'd say. I guess that's why the first thing he asked her was, "You're not going to be like Joy, are you?" LMFAO. That's right, you knuckle dragging Neanderthal. Come ask me. See what it gets you.

I remember putting up a girl I barely knew in my house with my own dear Sister because she was getting beat by an inlaw of mine. I didn't know her, I guess she could've robbed me blind. But I had to get her out. Her friend was going to pick her up that morning and take her to the sheriff's office to file charges. At 2pm that afternoon, I'm walking across campus and I hear a car horn. I turn and she's sitting shotgun in HIS car, and they're both waving at me. I took that to mean a big FUCK YOU to me. I learned that day that you can't help somebody who doesn't want to be helped. When they want it, they'll take it.

--Virgil