My Family: Setting a bad example for future generations.

I was raised in an abnormal household of two un-divorced, full-blooded parents with a full-blooded sister. It’s a wonder I even turned out to function like a semi-normal person with all of the surrounding abnormalities.

I’m pretty sure the chances of me becoming a semi-well-adjusted person after being brain-washed by my parents who planned to have me after being married several years into a stable household are slim.

It’s just not normal! I can only hope to hide from the world my shame as someone who is different.

There may be hope for my abnormal family life after all. Though my parents are still married and have been for 42-1/2 long years, there’s sunlight on the horizon of the agony of their longtime marriage.

My parents have turned into their parents, and I can now justify their asylum commitments.

Growing up, each of my parents separately urged me and my sister to kill, or at the least commit, them if they ever turned into acting like their own parents. Now in their 60s, my mom and dad bicker and fight and argue and mumble under their breath at one another more than I ever witnessed my grandparents doing. I just spent 12 days at my parent’s house. Covering my ears and singing loudly when they started nit-picking at one another was my only way of coping.

The problem here is clear: they learned it by watching their parents and their parents before them. My mom’s parents are STILL alive and married after 40 years of wedded bliss and 20+ years of wedded angst. Before they both died, my dad’s parents were exactly the same.

I can hear the "just take the damn picture" and the "would you just shut up and look at the damn camera" said just before this was taken.

Being married for over 40 years is clearly the milestone marker for insanity.

You people who come from divorced parents and split-up families, basically the normal, everyday American household, are lucky. You don’t have the examples set by people like my parents and grandparents that staying together until the end of time is OK.

It’s not OK, because like the abscessed growth on your finger you refuse to acknowledge, never-ending marriage will end in throbbing pain and someone offering to pop it for you.

Though at least when you’re married to someone for that long, you have someone who will squeeze the puss. Just don’t mind when she does it a little too painfully just because she can. She’s earned that benefit. And he’s earned the right to use 16 colorful words to throw at her while she does it.

I’m going to repurpose those drug PSAs from the 90s: “I LEARNED IT BY WATCHING YOU, ALRIGHT. I learned it by watching you.” We should be so lucky to have learned how to smoke pot from you. Instead, we learned how to make it to old age, married in wedded angst.

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2012. | Permalink | 9 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: marriage, parents

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I’ve always been skeptical of the adage, “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

It just seems too absolute for me. There are times when saying something that’s not-so-nice is appropriate. Like when yelling at the football players on TV that they’re chumps and even I could have caught the ball. Or when you’re pushing a baby out of your bagina, cursing the man who put it in there. Or if your internet stops working for no DAT BLAMMIT reason. Those are valid reasons to say something that’s not-so-nice.

The internets have brought out the worst in people. With the anonymity of the series of tubes to hid behind, there is a sect of the population who feels it’s OK to insult and walk away. It’s not OK, jerks.

There are entire blogs devoted to negativity: the negativity of parenting, the negativity of others, and the negativity of negativity. It all exists, and the perpetuation of criticism leaks into spaces where it’s not welcome.

Criticism is OK. To disagree is OK. It is NOT OK to make critical comments and just walk away.

Imagine shopping in your grocery store, minding your own grocery-buying business, and someone came up to you and said, “YOU SUCK!” then walked away. Wouldn’t you want to know why you suck specifically? Is it because of the food you’re buying? The clothes you’re wearing? Are you taking up too much space in the aisle? Is it because you’re actually sucking on a lollipop? I’d like to ask, “WHY do I SUCK?”

Unfortunately, some people on the internets don’t feel an obligation to follow through on their declarations of your suckage, and if they do, the reasons are benign and unfounded. So then you’re left with an incomplete thought of why exactly you suck compared to the accuser. And that totally sucks.

How about some constructive criticism instead of blanket insults? A little, “I read what you’re point making, and I’d like to offer my opinion of the situation.” Or, “I like what The Rock is cooking, but I think I know of a way you can improve it.”

Think about what you put out to the universe. Negativity begets negativity. Being an unsubstantiated jerk is not OK.

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 2 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: being a jerk, This? Is Not OK

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There are some rules that are meant to be broken:

• eating after 7pm
• watching more than 2 hours of TV a day
• drinking a Zima after prom

There are some rules that are meant to be adhered to:

• drinking and driving
• staying in school
• wearing rompers as an adult women

Let’s discuss the last rule at length, because it’s really one that should be honored by all women over the age of fresh-out-of-college. Like me, most women are what you’d call Fashionably Challenged, but even the majority of women know there are some things meant to be worn by toddlers or teenagers who count Ke$ha as their fashion icon.

It’s unsure whether dressing in the same shirt day after day in each of the colors sold by the clothier of your choice (my personal fashion secret) may not get you out of being caught in a from-the-neck-down Fashion Don’t on Tim Gunn’s next Bravo special. However, wearing one of these currently- or recently-available frocks, should get you a one-way ticket to TLC’s What Not to Wear.

Jumpsuits are meant for fighter pilots.

Ladies over the size of 00 can not wear horizontal zebra print, especially in a romper.

"Plus Ruffled Slub-Knit Romper" should never be allowed for adults.

Harem Pants belong in Harems and Kardashian sisters.

Even though you admire your circa 1986 2nd grade teacher, you shouldn't dress like her in an applique denim dress.

Don’t do it ladies. Just, please don’t.

What’s your #1 (or #s 2-5) fashion don’t rule?

photo credits: oldnavy.com, lanebryant.com, macys.com, amazon.com

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 28 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: bad fashion, clothing, fashion, This? Is Not OK, women

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My Gorgeous Mama

I have never been so ashamed to be my mother’s daughter.

Sure, she may take to the dance floor doing her best Elaine Dance imitation.

Sure, she may have one or two or three too many glasses of her favorite wine every now and then.

Sure, she may talk your ear off about the best tile that goes with the best soap dispenser and how she bought the wrong one, took it back, got a different soap dispenser only to realize it didn’t match the bathroom tile like she had intended.

But until today, I’ve never been so embarrassed to be my mother’s daughter than I am now that she posted this on my Facebook wall:

In case you can’t read that graphic, my mom basically belittles every web designer, web professional, and internet-savvy individual the world over with her one simple line,

“Sorry – I LOVE comic sans! It’s so friendly – and I’m not a Fortune 500 company!”

It’s like she’s taken a sword, dipped it in a vat of Witch Hazel, stabbed me through my proverbial internet-beating heart, stripped me of my dignity, then taped a letter on my chest typed in Comic Sans defending her actions.

Dear Mom and every other mother,
For the love of everything I hold dearly to my internetty heart, please stop using Comic Sans. The world thanks you.
Love,
The Comic Sans Must Die Army

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 7 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: comic sans, facebook, mom, This? Is Not OK

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I’ve written ad nauseum about the challenges of my children sleeping in our marital bed. However far we’ve come with incentive charts and bribes and calm explanations and begging and pleading and flat-out yelling, the girls still come into our bed at some time during the early morning.

They’re supposed to wait until the sun comes up before they come into our bed. They’re supposed to bring their pillows with them when they come in.

No matter how much we threaten to take away every single toy and/or privilege and/or entertainment, this still happens:

Nearly-Actual Photograph, Taken This Morning

When I sleep, I turn black. Jealous?

Actual Photograph of Me & Claire, Taken This Morning

When I wake up hanging 1/2 off of my own bed, I turn back to pale white with lopsided eyeballs and grey face. Jealous?

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 32 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: bed, children, drawing, kids, marriage, sleeping

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Let’s talk dirty, sexy, money.

I miss that hokey show that lasted only 3/4 of a season, but that’s not really the point of this article. Still, we need a moment of silence for the Darlings.

***silence***

This is Part 2 of my “What the Eff is Going On In Education?” Series.

We’re talking about dirty, sexy, real money, except there’s no sexy in this money: the money teachers are paid to mold the brains of our nation’s youth.

You’d think the white men who sit atop the highest mountain in government would want our youth to be taught by the finest, highest paid, most celebrated professionals possible. But this is clearly not the case.

As I’ve written in the past, I was a public school teacher for 4 years with a Master’s degree in Elementary Education. Two of those years, I taught at a public Charter school, and the last two years, I taught at a typical county elementary school. The salaries I’ll be talking about here are the salaries earned teaching in the Orange County Public School system. All of this information is readily available on the OCPS.net website.

When I started working at the OCPS school with 2 years of instructional experience, I made about 34,000 per year with a $2400 “BONUS” for having a Master’s Degree in a related field.

(Sidenote: I made less per year as a bonus for having a Master’s Degree than it took to pay for one semester in Grad school.)

The current rate of pay for a brand new teacher, fresh out of college with a Bachelor’s Degree is $37,000 per year.

Let’s break this down into hourly pay, shall we?

180 days of school
14 days of pre-planning, post-planning, and contracted teacher work days
37.5 (paid) hours of work per week, required to be on school campus or at an in-service training

1455 hours contracted to work per year

$23.34/hour contracted to work for a first-year teacher

Not bad, right? Not really GOOD, but not horrible. It’s a good start!

Let’s take a look at other jobs in Orlando where you could earn about $23.34/hour worked, straight out of college:

• Business Systems Analyst - $25.00 Per Hour
• Technical Support Specialist I - $20.00 – $24.00 Per Hour
• Programmer Analyst – IT - $40,000.00 – $50,000.00 Per Year (hourly rate adjusted for more hours worked/year)

Not too bad, eh? It’s a good entry point into the workforce.

Now, let’s look down the road 15 years and see what’s available for seasoned, practiced professionals in the teaching field.

A teacher in Orange County is contracted to be paid $45,600 per year. Let’s assume she’s earned her Master’s Degree along the way, so we’ll add $2,605 to her yearly salary.

$33.13/hour contracted to work for a teacher with 15 years’ experience.

Now let’s take a look at what other jobs pay per year in Orlando with 15 years’ experience and a Master’s Degree.

• Vice President, Manufacturing & Product Design - $150,000.​00 – $225,000
• Senior Director, Projects and Applications (at OCPS) - $83,998.​00 – $95,376.​00
• Director of Merchandise Retail Store Design and Visual Presentation - $108,428.​80 – $135,536

JAW.

DROPPED.

I’m kind of speechless.

How is this OK in America? OK around the world? How is it socially acceptable for the women and men who teach the future corporate vice presidents and senior directors to earn a comparative pittance?

First step: Respect your child’s teacher. They probably make far less than you and do way more than what’s in a contracted day’s work.

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 7 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: hourly, money, pay, salary, teachers, wage

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Over at one of my super Awesome weblogs, We Know Awesome, we’re showcasing the best of the worst Glamour Shots from the ’90s (and sadly the new millennia). I was never subjected to the feather boa accessory that is a requirement in all Glamour Shots photo sessions at the mall. Instead, I was subjected to my mother’s idea of what would make the perfect engagement photo to be published in all of the local papers and put on display for decades to come.

I am not immune from my own What the Fruck Were You Thinking? professional photography session. Mine just happens to be my engagement photo from 1997.

This, my friends, is the handiwork of my mother (who just happens to be on a cruise right now and probably won’t see this post, so don’t think I’m not purposely posting it now because she might be upset that I’m making fun of it).

Turtle necks.

Solid-color bright sweaters.

Creeper over my shoulder.

Perfectly coiffed hair.

A sweater that makes me look 50 pounds heavier than I actually was at the time.

We were just kids. Each only 21-years-old when these photos were taken, we had to do what my mother told us to do. She was paying – she got what she wanted.

Apparently, this is what she wanted:

The stuff dreams are made of.

It’s OK to laugh and make fun – we do. Often.

Sidenote: My kids’ first reaction at seeing the picture: “Mama! You have no owies on your face!” That’s right, kids. I had no acne at 21, but I do at 34, BECAUSE I GAVE BIRTH TO YOU, my face is wrought with “owies.” Jerks.

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2011. | Permalink | 27 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: engagement, glamour shots, marriage, photo, This? Is Not OK

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It takes something pretty shocking to make my jaw drop. When you’ve been around the internets as much as I have, you’ve seen it all. So seeing something new and shocking is a day-maker.

My hot n’ sexy internet girlfriend, Jenny Grace, sent me a link to may be one of the most shocking sites I’ve seen in months, and that’s saying a lot. Plus the fact that this is totally safe for work, and it’s still THAT shocking? That, my friendlies, is very hard to find.

Triply awesome is that I grew up in a town where Mullet (the fish) is celebrated in an annual festival where Billy Ray Cyrus got his start, Natural Light is a food group, and hearing the hunting dogs howling in the woods is a normal Friday night, and I’ve NEVER seen this.

I present to you…
(...)
Read the rest of This? Is not OK: Camo Formal Edition (133 words)

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2010. | Permalink | 30 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: camo, camoflauge, dress, formal, prom, wedding

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Oh, Martha.

Some people don’t agree with your tactics (see: Federal court), some people are obsessed with you (see: craft store patrons), some people admire your business savvy (see: not Donald Trump), and some people are baffled by some of your crafting choices (see: me).

To be honest with you, Martha, I wish I had your skills. I wish I had your savvy. I wish I had your command over a glue gun, peet moss, and Styrofoam ring.

You can do amazing things.

I saw you on Mama Oprah’s show where you took all of us minions on a tour of your Maine residence with a fancy-yet-rustic name with the fancy-yet-rustic chef with the fancy-yet-rustic flower arranger. I also saw how you took control of that Bowl O’Moss n’ Greenery and made it your bitch to sit in your fancy-yet-rustic sitting room. It was a 4th vacation home any home crafter dreams of growing up to decorate.

Your magazines and books and websites keep crafter’s interests piqued: “What will Mother Martha teach us next? Will it be the latest in cake decoration? Or maybe a new edge-fancying scissor? Or maybe a way to make my leftover window shade tassels into earrings?”

Your ideas are incredible, Marth. Your team of thousands scour the depths of the junk drawer to find just the right thing to be made into another Good Thing.

But Mar, there are some things that you have created that cross the line, and I don’t think you were made aware of a jewelry craft that made it onto your highly-trafficed website.

I’m here to help you, MS.

Because no one wants to have pantyhose around their neck.

Because I don’t think you’ve ever held a bouncy ball in your hand.

Because I don’t think you realize that each bouncy ball weighs approximately 4 ounces.

Because no one wants to have your balls in their face.

This? Is not OK, MarStew:

That poor waifly model is about 2 seconds away from beheaded from the weight of your balls around her neck. Do you realize how heavy NINE bouncy balls would be in pantyhose hanging from your head stump?

By my very unscientific calculations, that’s 36 ounces of Martha Stewart’s balls hanging around that giraffe’s neck.

I’m sorry, Stewart, but you need to get a better handle on what you’re encouraging your minions to create. Someone’s likely to lose a head.

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •

*This post was suggested to my by an Awesome twitterer, but I was too busy catching up on Teen Mom to write down her name. So if it was YOU who suggested this as a This? Is not OK post, please let me know.

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2010. | Permalink | 16 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: arts crafts, balls, craft, martha stewart

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It’s a part of our daily life routine. It’s expected.

The Phfizr/V!agra/Nigerian Druncle/$ell Your Jewelry/Your Wife’s Photos! spam emails.

Spam email started with cold-calling from call centers where low-paid unfortunates sat for hours on end being yelled and over the phone just waiting to hook the old lady with her $45,000 pension and a pen to write a check. I thank the Sweet Baby Jeebus and Oprah for passing the legislation called “Do Not Call” or as I like to call it, “Do Not Answer.”

Before that, it was door-to-door salesmen lugging vacuum cleaners and encyclopedias, but that’s now left to the sweaty Jesus Saves! groupies.

I can deal with the email spam. I can deal with the *ding!* of my email, not getting excited to see an invitation from Oprah to hop a plane to Australia, and instead, seeing “P.S. Q. What do you call three lesbians in bed together? – A. Menage e twat. ” from Oscar at the Pharmacy (quote from a real spam email I got this morning). I’m used to it. No amount of Spam Blocker Sauce can prevent all annoying emails. It’s fine. It’s annoying. It’s a way of digital life.

But whoever invented email spamming needs to have at least one testicle removed and placed in a mayonnaise jar on his spool table nightstand. Because you KNOW it was a man who invented the blind emailing of phishing links to gain access to accounts and verify email addresses.

Recently, however, I’ve been accosted from inside my own pocket. When I hear that *honk*honk* of a text message just received, I get a rush of “OH MY GOSH! SOMEONE LOVES ME! SOMEONE HAS TAKEN THE TIME TO CLICK AWAY AT THEIR PHONE TO SEND ME A LOVING TEXT MESSAGE OF GLEE!”

Only, that’s not the case lately. My phone number has been JACKED, obviously, and handed over to the worst people Donald Trump the Devil ever created, and they’re sending me SPAM TEXTS.

Do you know that this has taken away my innocence? My love for hearing that *honk*honk* of my text message alert has been squashed and smashed into a crumb of doubt that someone DOESN’T love me, but rather someone HATES ME AND MY PRETTY FACE for putting me on some asshole Spam Text List.

Please, Baby Jeebus and Oprah, make it go away like you did that weird itch. Your powers for good are needed here.

© Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] for A Whole Lot of Nothing • Your Favorite Blog, 2010. | Permalink | 21 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: spam, This? Is Not OK

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