Friday, July 29, 2005

Speaking of Anonymous Comments

I discovered a second one . . . or possibly a first.
This also makes me think I may have been wrong about the sex of the person who posted the other anonymous comment. It's possibly a man. I MAY have a decent idea of who is posting these comments . . . but it's a slim chance.

However, to make certain he/she is able to read my response to the second anonymous comment, I'm posting it here separately.

First, here is his/her comment:

Anonymous said...
you shouldn't be teaching deaf kids how to speak, you are merely oppressing them from their true identity.

Deaf kids shouldn't be speaking english but sign fluently in ASL, period.

you are not a kick ass therapist, but to hurt children.

you should feel ashamed of yourself.

Second, here is my response:

Someone is either an idiot, or doesn't pay attention at all. I'm voting on idiot.

1st of all - I DON'T teach deaf children ANYTHING. I don't work with the deaf. I work with children who are language or speech impaired ONLY. At one point I wanted to work with the deaf, but I didn't because there are not enough positions in AR to allow me to do that.

2nd of all - you are entitled to your opinion, however wrong it is. Deaf children should have the OPTION to do what THEY want. I work at a camp every year with deaf children (NOT in a speech pathologist capacity) who had cochlear implants because THEY chose to. NOT everyone wants to limit themselves to ASL or Signed English. It's kind of like American English speakers learning Spanish. It doesn't hurt them it expands them.

The only thing I am ashamed of is people like you who are close minded. Deaf individuals CAN sign and speak. It's not ONE or the OTHER. It is your prejudice which makes their choice that much harder.

I am a big proponent of ASL and Signed English. I took SEVERAL classes in college on it and have deaf friends whom I communicate with via sign. I think it's a beautiful language and EVERY deaf individual should learn to sign first and then decide if they WANT to expand upon that.

I really hope you read this, because it's obvious that you need your eyes opened and that you make a LOT of incorrect assumptions.

Oh, and by the way, even deaf individuals who chose to sign may need speech-language pathology. They may have a swallowing disorder. They may have disorganized language. They may have a below normal language age.

I hate when people decide to derogatorily comment on a profession they know nothing about. I don't just "teach kids to talk". Speech pathologists are so much more. We have more training on neurology than most doctors, we have training in feeding and swallowing, we perform cognitive therapy, language comprehension therapy, language expression therapy, articulation therapy, swallowing therapy, etc. etc. etc. The things YOU don't know about my profession could fill 100 pages.

Even a deaf individual who chooses sign as his ONLY form of expression MAY have a language disorder and still require my services. I know speech pathologists who work PURELY in sign.

So . . . in essence, you have two choices. Educate yourself or live in ignorance.

So, there you are.
If anyone else has any REAL questions about what I do or the populations I have, will and can work with, feel free to comment or email me at

People With Attitude Problems Need Not Apply

Wow, so I read the comments posted on my last blog.
And someone out there, most likely someone who doesn't even know me, was a catty bitch.
You can always tell when a female leaves a comment.
Though, it's possible it was a gay male.
So I am disallowing anonymous comments.
If someone doesn't have the balls to tell who they are, they shouldn't leave a comment.

It's gotten scary how badly people react to certain things.
Particularly from people they have no knowledge of.
What I write here is not necessarily who and how I am in life. I think that most people would agree that their blogs are their personal persona. Someone that few people in their life get to see or hear from.
I am still unsure of how or why people take offense at things -- things that were not directed at them in any shape or form.
Therefore, I think that ignorant people should no longer be allowed to post here.
Nor should people who take personal offense to comments about someone else's life.
Nor should people who can't spell.
And to some extent, I almost want to say that women shouldn't leave comments.
Because, it's typically women that lose their GD mind and decide to be bitchy to someone they don't know.
At least anonymously, because it's also women who think "I hate this bitch, but she doesn't need to know who I am, because she might take it into her head to hate me back."
And people wonder why most of my friends are male.

Monday, July 25, 2005

Isn't It Loverly

So . . .

I attracted bunches of attention at the gym tonight.
At first I thought it was the snazzy new hair color.
Yes, after 25 years of thinking natural was the way to go, I have gotten really tired of being blonde. In fact, I can't think of a single blonde I have ever found attractive. Male or female. (There has to be something very Freudian about a blonde who thinks blondes are ugly.) So I went very brunette.
But then, I started to think.

Female; work out shorts; sports bra; low cut high sleeved shirt; scratches that appear to be from fingernails lining her entire body.

I think it was the scratches, far more than the brunette lovliness, that attracted that attention.

What's sad is that I enjoyed the attention.

What's sadder is that it's entirely possible that some other night the scratches may not be from a family swimming exploit with the pets.

What's saddest is that I knew that's what some of those guys were thinking . . and I was looking at thier sweat dripping muscles and thinking - baby, I'd let you scratch me.

Sunday, July 24, 2005


So, I went home for the weekend to see my family and get some rest and relaxation.
It was wonderful. No, really.
The house down the street has an inground pool.
I spent hours and hours in that pool when I was growing up because I was at first friends with the younger boy of the family and later on dated the older boy (younger boy was 2 years younger than me, older boy was 4 years older).
They moved about 9 years ago.
The new family is a little different.
They were fine there for a while, then the cop husband tried to sleep with my coworker when I managed the city pool. She was 17 and he was . . . umm . . probably 36 at the time.
Appearantly this wasn't the first time for him.
Or his friend who tried to sleep with me.
I digress.
They still live there. But there were marital problems.
He took a job in Little Rock as a police officer and commuted.
Finally, just getting an apartment there for the weeks and going home on weekends when he wasn't working.
The wife and kids, for whatever reason, moved in with her mother about a year ago.
So the house is basically devoid of people.
The husband talked to my father and their other neighbor and said if they would keep the pool in working order and maintain the lawn, they could have free reign over the pool.
I spent Saturday running errands, Saturday night eating out with the family and then 11 p.m. to 1 a.m. in the pool with my family.
Sunday, we spent 10:30 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. teaching Maddy (Maddox Riley Degray) our 10 week old black Lab how to swim and showing Kady (my brother's 9 month old black Lab) that the water was fun.
I love Kady. I do. Really.
However, her claws HURT.
And once she wasn't afraid to get in the water, she thought it was fun to chase you while you swam and then crawl all over you when she caught you.
I look as though I was attacked by a nymphomanic with Lee Press-Ons.
I have scratches up and down my legs, all over my chest, criss-crossing over my back and covering my arms.
The sacrifices you make for a wonderful weekend with your family.

Thursday, July 21, 2005

These Spots are Blinding

Ever stop to think:

Red is red, isn't it?
Or . . . .
Is the color I call red - and see as red - really blue to you, but you call it red because you were taught that it was red?

This is the shit I do when I should be teaching kids how to talk.
Yes, I really do give them the therapy they need, but in the back of my mind I'm calculating my next check, paying out my bills mentally and dividing the remaining money into my savings and retirement funds, re-analyzing my current relationship and thinking up meaningless questions like the one just posed.

If I worked half as hard at working as I do at thinking, I would be such a better therapist. I'm kick ass as it is - just check the progress reports of the kids - but I would be PHENOMENAL if I devoted 100% of my attention to it instead of 75%.

Why is a school called a school and not mom? For that matter, why is mom mom?

Who decided what words were "cuss" words?

Could I have been a taste tester back in the day? Could I really have pulled things out of the ground, washed them off and said "So, I'm gonna check if this is food. If I keel over later on, don't eat this ever again."

Why are cops the biggest law breakers? One ran a stop sign in front of me, did 90 in a 70 and wasn't wearing his seat belt. He then got off the same exit I did and went through the drive through at McDonalds. I don't think he was speeding to an emergency.

Why do I HAVE to wear my seatbelt??? Am I not old enough to make this decision? I mean, for the love of Christ, there's no HELMET law, but there's a seatbelt law? For children, I get it. I do. But if I paid for the damn car, I should be allowed to go through my own windshield if I want to.

I think I believe in re-incarnation. I had an epiphany the other day. Certain members of society, easily identified by other characteristics, were at one point in their life cows. I know this because they walk out in front of your car and don't care that you were DRIVING. They also walk as slow as is humanly - or bovinely - possible while they're there. Some of them (this holds true for grocery store aisles as well) think that the road is actually a sidewalk. They stand there and chat it up. And if you drive upon them, they glare at you as though YOU are in the wrong, and continue their conversation. And, just like cattle, if you honk at them, it does nothing to sway them into movement. They simply glare at you again, possibly make an obscene gesture, and then continue to stand there talking.

Why do Americans not have to speak English anymore?

Why are there Spanish menus at McDonalds?

Would I move to France and expect them to speak English instead of French to me?

Should scholarship money go to children of illegal aliens when middle class actual AMERICANS can't get scholarships?

Oh wait . . . that one has an answer -- NO, Governor Mike Huckabee, they shouldn't, you pompous ignoramus.

Could Your Ass Pucker a BIT More?

Sweet mother of God.

I could have sworn I told you two weeks ago that I wasn't making out a progress report for children X, Y and Z.

I am positive I told you the following reasons:

1 - Though we tested them in Dec, Feb and March respectively, we didn't get prescriptions for treatment until a month ago because their 14 year old mothers couldn't be bothered to take them to the doctor for their check up after they got out of their Algebra classes.

2 - Since they've only been in therapy one month, there is not enough data to show progress . . . and I could be wrong, but isn't that the POINT of a progress report?

3 - Child Z hasn't even been to the daycare in the past week and half because his mother is too lazy to maintain her voucher for his FREE daycare. How fucking lazy do you have to be to not maintain SIMPLE paperwork for FREE things?

I certainly told you that the company I'm contracted to (which, incidentally has NOTHING to do with you) does not require a progress report for children who have been in therapy less than 9 weeks.


What the hell are you doing calling the woman I'm contracted to and telling her that you're "still" waiting on progress reports for X, Y and Z from me???

Particularly when I saw your over the hill, washed out, doesn't even have her Masters ass at the other daycare this morning and you didn't have the balls to ask me about them to my face. PROBABLY because you KNEW I told you I wasn't doing them and you thought you could force my hand by telling mommy on me.

Oh ho ho . . but you never dreamed that MY boss would side with me. That she would fax me to "not worry" about you and that "we know how she is" - AKA anal retentive, uptight, bossy bitch. That she would tell you I DON'T have to do those reports because it doesn't make ANY sense and because Medicaid doesn't require it.

I am so in hate with you.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

It's Random . . . . so Random

Why do people never say "I'm so in hate"?

People are constantly saying "I'm so in love".

I think I would be much more interested in hearing the transgressions the 34 yr old with a mullet, cut off jean shorts, converse sneakers and yellow to black teeth committed than the adoration your clean cut, preppy, insurance selling significant other drowned you in.

Thanks to Adam . ..

You are now subjected to this short jaunt down memory lane.

Junior Year of College:

Acquaintance (not friend, make no mistake) is next to me in the computer lab of the building. She has asked me for help about every third minute while typing up her resume, seeing she was a Senior and about to venture into the world of employment.
In the midst of typing her personal attributes she says to me, "How do you spell intelligent?"

If you can't spell it . . . can you exhibit that particular trait????

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Not In Reference to Blog Friends

Holy shit.

Could the rest of the world give me a damn break.

No, I didn’t go to the wedding shower.

Because my “best friend” had been in town almost 2 weeks thanks to hurricane weather and didn’t even bother to ring a girl.

Because I think a wedding shower is just one more way to get gifts out of people that have already bought gifts for the wedding.

Because I didn’t want to be in a room with nothing but old women and soriority bitches that I barely talked to in college. We had nothing in common then - they didn’t understand why I didn’t “rush” and I didn’t understand why they paid $1500.00 a semester for someone to tell them what to do and where to be - and we have nothing in common now - I didn’t marry for money, I got a damn education and my own business they got their Mrs and some diapers.

No, I won’t listen to you whine about how you don’t have any hours.

Because I’m busting ass to get 10.5 hrs worth of kids a day seen, plus evaluate 5 kids (evaluations take 2 hours each) this week alone and you won’t take any of the hours.

Because you didn’t come in until 10 and I’ve been here since 6.

Because you’re leaving at 3 and I’ll be here until 5:15.

Because when I offer you the hours you say “I have a migraine. Maybe I can see some tomorrow.” We have nothing in common. You whine about not having enough money to pay your rent, but you won’t work any hours to get the money. I work twice the amount of hours I want just so I can throw $500 into retirement and $500 into savings a month while still paying my SUV payment, house payment, medical insurance premiums, and collective other bills.

No, I can’t pick you up some beer on my way home.

Because the daycares are only open from 6 to 5, most of my kids leave by 4 or 5, and I have at least 11 kids to see.

Because by 5, it’s rush hour, and it’s 35 minutes to my house with NO traffic, it’s an hour plus during rush hour and I have to be home in time to change clothes, pull back my hair and hightail it to the gym so I’m not late for my 6:30 appointment 6 nights a week.

You get off at 4. If you want beer, carry your happy ass to the liquor store yourself. You will still beat me home.
By hours.

Yes, I would love to go to the lake this weekend.
Why can’t you?

Because by the time I get off on Friday, it’s too late to pack and haul ass 2 hours to the lake. Particularly if I go to the gym like I’m supposed to. And don’t say pack the night before, I don’t have time - as you can clearly see by the schedule I’ve previously laid out.

Yes, I would love to leave Saturday morning.
Why can’t you?

Because my boyfriend moved in last week. And by moved in, I mean that it was hot as balls and it took us 5 hours to pack all his shit into his truck, my SUV and Zach’s trailer and by the time we got to my place all we felt up to doing was throwing it all in the garage floor. It needs to be put up. Preferably before my parents get up here for dad’s 55th birthday party at my house the NEXT Friday night. And it ain’t like I got time during the week to put the shit up.

Yes, I would love an attitude adjustment.
Why not get one?

Because I have not the time, the money or the inclination to receive the massive amounts of therapy and drug induced happiness that I deserve.

I swear I’m not this bitchy in real life.
I have to vent it all here.

Because if I scream this stuff at the people in my life, their itty bitty pwecious wittle feelings will be huwt and then I have to deal with shit on top of shit that I would rather avoid at all costs.

Much love.

Monday, July 18, 2005

Hiatus Suspended Temporarily.

So, I'm back.
However briefly.

My life is a shit storm right now.
Working 10-11 hr days.
Up at 5:30, at work by 6:30, work straight through til 5:00, get stuck in 5 o'clock traffic until 6, get home, get changed for the gym, work out for 1.5 hours, drive to Smoothie King for my Smoothie dinner, get home by 8:30, take a shower, read e-mails but ignore "Reply" button because I simply could give a shit, go to bed.

I actually woke up at 4:20 this morning and thought I was supposed to be up. I jumped out of bed, laid out my scrubs, did my business while the shower warmed, climbed halfway into the steaming shower and realized "Holy Fuck, I have a whole other hour of sleep!" Make the insanity stop.

What are you bitches up to? You never drop a girl a line.
Surely you all know how to reach me.