I think it was about a year ago that I learned that Chick Fil A donated a portion of its proceeds to organizations that support "the traditional view of marriage". I know it's been at least 8 months or so because I went through the entire holiday season without one of their incredible Peppermint Chocolate Chip Milkshakes that they make during the holidays because I refused to give the company a dime.
Even though those shakes are incredible.
Seriously - the chicken sandwich has nothing on that shake.
But I digress, y'all. Just because a company can make a fabulous milkshake, doesn't mean they're doing anything good for our society. Not to mention that the desire for a Chick Fil A chicken sandwich actually almost killed me and burned down our house once.
So when Dan Cathy, president of Chick Fil A opened his mouth last week and told the Baptist Press that the company was "guilty as charged" for backing "the biblical definition of a family" and facebook went all wonky with people posting and sharing anti-Chick Fil A images and articles, I was sort of happy.
It's like when you know that your best friend's boyfriend is a jerk but she doesn't realize it... and then she finally does. While you're sad that she's sad and you're sad that he's a jerk, you're just so darned relieved that she finally dumped his sorry ass.
That's right, Chick Fil A... you're like a jerky boyfriend. All pretty and alluring on the outside, but filled with nasty ugliness on the inside.
Reading the arguments for "traditional family values" that have been sweeping the internet over the past week seriously make my stomach turn. They're such bad arguments with no real basis on fact or research.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
The Spaz mourns the loss of Chick Fil A's Peppermint Chocolate Chip Milkshake laced with hate and homophobia
Friday, July 13, 2012
WTF is a playdate?
Seriously, y'all. What is it?
As most of you know, I have three kids. I think, so far, I've done a pretty good job with them. They're relatively well-rounded and well-mannered. I mean, I guess Bug could stand to see sunlight a little more often, but he's my oldest and therefore my practice kid. I'm entitled to a little bit of screw up with him, right?
We have never had a playdate. I don't think we have anyway. I'm not really sure what it is exactly.
My kids have friends and they play with other kids. They have friends from our neighborhood, they have friends from scouts and other activities, they have friends they met at school, they have friends by proxy because I am friends with their parents, and they have cousins. Occasionally they ask to go over to someone else's house and hang out for a while or spend the night.
They've spent lots of afternoons over at one or another of my friends houses playing with my friends kids because I wanted to go see my friend.
But have I ever met another mom at the park and exchanged numbers so my little darlings and her little darlings can have a playdate? Ummm... no. Do people really do that?
What happens at these "playdates" anyway? Do the mom's hang out with each other and make painful small talk while the kids do crafts? Or do I get to drop my kid off at your house for two hours and go read a book in the park?
Maybe the ultimate question is actually why? Why do mothers feel the need to arrange play for their children when, based on my personal experience, kids do a great job of arranging play for themselves?
When my kids were younger, before school and activities where they met other kids, we just went to the playground to play. There were always other kids there and they made friends in all of 30 seconds. Sure, they never say Billy or Sally again, but I'm fairly sure the lack of long-lasting bonded friendships at age 3 isn't causing my kids any stress.
Bug, Munchkin, and Goober are pros at making friends at any random place. The beach, the park, the library, wherever. I've never once felt like I had to arrange a playtime for them with another mom. But I hear about it so much. Like it's the norm.
It is a mystery to me.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Everybody has those days. Mine was yesterday.
Yesterday was one of those days when nothing would go right. It was as if a general cloud of gray funk had settled over the Spaz household and it was stinking up the place. I won't go in to every little thing that went wonky yesterday, but suffice to say that by the end of the day I was drinking a mason jar full of cheap, boxed red wine and reading O Magazine in the bathtub... a sure sign of a rough day.