As a writer, I place great value on my First Amendment Freedom of Speech. I hate bigots, hypocrites, racists, sexists and otherwise intolerant, ignorant idiots. And preachy Christians. Let's not forget those MF's. But damn-it-all if they don't have the right to say whatever they want (as long as it isn't in the workplace). Conversely, I have the right NOT to listen. My mom exercises her right daily. She's deaf. It's a joke. You don't have to laugh.
I have a very blunt and abrasive personality. I lack even a basic filter and "sugar-coating" is not something I excel at. Or even try to. Why waste time mincing words? Life is short and we should be open and honest. Now, I don't try to be mean, but sometimes, I don't realize what I say is mean. Feel free to take whatever I say with a grain of salt. Add a sarcastic undertone so you know only every other words is how I really feel. Or, simply, tune me out. Stop reading. Ignore everything I say.
But what happens someone who loves the First Amendment and passionately spouts off anything with a hint of feeling or reasonable logic without consent from every second cousin and their mother is a member of your family? What happens when all that dirty laundry gets aired on Facebook?
Simply put, FACEBOOK RUINS LIVES.
It's true. It's common sense nowadays that you should not put up inappropriate pictures that dictate lewd and vulgar behaviors, habits, and/or vices on to the interwebsnetulars. Last weekend's party pictures could be ground from expulsion from school for underage drinking. If you want to send a naked picture to your girlfriend, but you are a baseball coach who "friended" several parents and students and accidentally posted those pictures publicly, consider yourself out of a job. It's dangerous stuff to submit any personal information to the web. So how do people everywhere remain employed when nefarious websites like Facebook exist?
Loose example of a Facebook life-ruining post: "My family is made up of fucktards." (I would apologize for that language, but it defeats the purpose of the point I'm making). Now, a family member is upset that this post casts them in a bad light and could prevent them, from being hired.
Let's delve into their fully-legitimate concern:
1. Nobody wants to hire a fucktard. If even your family thinks you are a fucktard, that doesn't bode well with a potential employer. And if they are willing to post it on Facebook for the entire world wide web to see, they REALLY think you are fucktard and everyone should know.
Now, let's delve into why their concern is complete and utter BS designed to trample my First Amendment right to free speech and mask the fact that are just too chicken-shit to say what you really want to. You don't like me and want to make me out to be the bad guy. You really are a fucktard.
1. Fucktard is a derogatory slang comprised of "fuck" and "-tard." "Fuck" can be good or bad. If I say "Fuck you, you crazy fool," it appears I am telling you to piss off, I don't appreciate you or what you may have just said/done. However, maybe you were cute and I am joking. Really, you can only tell my true meaning by my tone and personality and our relationship. Tone is not easily derived through writing, especially in a short message like that. Remember: Only you have the power to prevent misunderstandings. However, surrounding words can provide contextual clues. "That sex was fucking good," uses "fuck" in a positive manner replacing it for "really" and "very" and emphasizing how "good" the sex was.
Now, let's examine "-tard." A "retard" refers to a slowing down or hindrance, as in a machine. It is commonly, although disparagingly used to describe people are mentally handicapped or learn something slowly. When tacked onto "fuck", a "fucktard" becomes shortened slang for "fucking retard" meaning the person who made the statement believes the subject is (negative adjective)(slow at something). This could be good or bad, but it's safe to assume it's not a nice statement. Just because it isn't nice doesn't make it any less true. And my First Amendment Right protects me to voice my opinion.
2. We have decided that "fucktard" is a nasty name that has no business being referred to family members and is damaging to their reputation. Or, is it? First of all, if the statement is accurate, anybody who knows you knows it is true. If they don't know you well enough to know it's true, they will soon find out. If they are hard-core you-supporters, it won't matter what anyone else says, it will just make them look hateful and you look the victim. "But will an employer who sees this post even give me the chance?" you ask yourself. Honestly, I don't know. But IF they do see this post, there is no reference to you. No names are given. "Family" is vague. It could include siblings, parents, grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles, second cousins, great-aunts, godparents, step's and in-laws. Since your name is not specifically "tagged," there is no way for an employer to pinpoint you are said "fucktard." Many people have disagreements with family (immediate, extended or otherwise) from time-to-time and may exaggerate their frustrations. I'm sure any reasonable employer would disregard this comment completely when doing a thorough background search on you. I'm also positive there are way worse things popping up in your background search than this dismissive comment.
Facebook, your potential employer has no way of knowing (nor would they really care to this extent) who every member of your family is and what their relationship is to you. You have full control over who you list as "family" and if someone calls you a "fucktard" and you still list them as family, you really are a fucktard.
3. Let's focus on the IF, now. You are worried IF an employer sees this. The post doesn't specifically mention you by name, therefore not tagging you, therefore, not appearing on your FB page. It may show up in your newsfeed, but not in a public view. An employer, and all your friends (who are not mutual friends with the postee) will not see this post or associate it with you. EVER. Furthermore, you unfriended the posteee months before. Worse, you BLOCKED the person. In FB terms, that person is dead to you and vice versa. There are no associations, connections, links or ties. This is how BLOCKING works.
Still unnecessarily worried that this generic post that doesn't reference you, appear on your forum, show up in public may implicate you in your stupidity during a job search? read below for the fix:
Easy-peasy, fresh and sleazy, just go to www.facebook.com. Log in. On the upper right hand side you will see your name, "home," and a tiny little arrow pointing down. Hover over that sneaky arrow and options will pop up, namely, "privacy settings." This is how you adjust EVERYTHING form pics to post to personal information on who can see what. Everyone, friends, friends of friends, acquaintances. These are your options on just about everything. That nifty little "tag" option so friends can post embarrassing photos of you? Change your privacy settings and that will never happen again.
Thank you, Mark Zuckerberg et al for realizing not everyone needs to be all up in my biz. Personally, I prefer friends of friends have the ability to private message me, photos are only seen by friends, but even acquaintances can view my posts, because they must know what I had for dinner and what I thought of that car who tailgated me on the freeway. Sidenote-Don't text FB status updates and drive.
Now that you have adjusted your privacy settings that controls not only who sees what you post, but also what others can post about you, you can rest assured your reputation will remain intact and untainted.
Now, please get the fuck out of my business, DO NOT designate what I can and cannot say on my OWN page that in no way is affiliated with you and please stop making me out to be the bad guy. You can't even confirm you were the subject for the post.
Until now.
You are totally a fucktard. I hate your guts. If you mess with me again, I WILL name names. I WILL ruin your life. The fact that you are a fucktard is no secret. I know REAL secrets. About you. About your family. MY family (until you designated me black sheep).
You can say whatever you want about me. That's your right. But you KNOW what you're saying is all lies and you're nothing but a mean, petty, spiteful, horrible human being. Say what you want, when you want to whoever you want. Because I have Facebook.
And Facebook Ruins Lives.
SEXY BOOKWORM BLOGGER
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Friday, April 15, 2011
Family Donor Ceremony
When my father passed away, he was an organ donor and parts of his eyes actually went to someone in need. This weekend, the Donor Network of Arizona sponsored an event for donor families, so my brother and I drove to Phoenix participate in this ceremony. The event took place Sunday afternoon in the chapel at St. Joseph's Hospital.
It was a very lovely ceremony that helped grieving families feel pride for their loved ones donations. At the end, each family was invited up to share a story about their loved one that represented the Donor Network's philanthropic philosophy. Most families were too heartbroken to speak much or what they said was difficult to hear and understand. when my family was called up, I walked up proudly with my brother, sister and my dad's parents. We stood at the front of the room and I spoke loudly to the crowd so that everyone could hear just what I thought of my father. I shared a story that my cousin shared with me. I can't verify the validity of such a claim, but it sounds plausible and sums up my daddy immensely.
I told the crowd that my father was a kind, generous, caring man who's patience knew no bounds. He taught his children to never judge, but walk a mile in the others' shoes to understand and appreciate our differences. He was a poor man. a pauper who lived in squalor, but that didn't mean much to him at all for he valued life most of all. He was always asking for rides to the grocery store and on one occasion, he borrowed money for groceries. On his way out of the store there was a homeless man begging, so my dad gave the rest of the change to him. When confronted about this, he simply responded: You didn't need the money, so you gave it to me. I used what I needed and gave the rest to him.
I boldly spoke to the red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks staring at me that My father celebrated his 49th birthday in September and was prompted to get a new AZ driver's license. This time, he checked off the little box at the bottom asking if you wish to be an organ donor. Exactly 1 month later he was tragically ripped from our lives. But that box he checked helped another person out there to regain the gift of sight. I can only hope this lucky individual can see the world the way my father uniquely did.
My sister ended our boast with words my daddy spoke often, especially when distance separated him from you. "Are you smiling? I can't hear you smiling? Oh come on, that's not nearly big enough." He would poke and prod with his corny farewell until, eventually, you were definitely smiling. To which he would reply: "Smile, it looks good on you."
On our way to the reception, my family was stopped several times by other families and Donor Network coordinators who thought our story was the most lovely recollection they heard and it made their hearts swell.
It was a very lovely ceremony that helped grieving families feel pride for their loved ones donations. At the end, each family was invited up to share a story about their loved one that represented the Donor Network's philanthropic philosophy. Most families were too heartbroken to speak much or what they said was difficult to hear and understand. when my family was called up, I walked up proudly with my brother, sister and my dad's parents. We stood at the front of the room and I spoke loudly to the crowd so that everyone could hear just what I thought of my father. I shared a story that my cousin shared with me. I can't verify the validity of such a claim, but it sounds plausible and sums up my daddy immensely.
I told the crowd that my father was a kind, generous, caring man who's patience knew no bounds. He taught his children to never judge, but walk a mile in the others' shoes to understand and appreciate our differences. He was a poor man. a pauper who lived in squalor, but that didn't mean much to him at all for he valued life most of all. He was always asking for rides to the grocery store and on one occasion, he borrowed money for groceries. On his way out of the store there was a homeless man begging, so my dad gave the rest of the change to him. When confronted about this, he simply responded: You didn't need the money, so you gave it to me. I used what I needed and gave the rest to him.
I boldly spoke to the red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks staring at me that My father celebrated his 49th birthday in September and was prompted to get a new AZ driver's license. This time, he checked off the little box at the bottom asking if you wish to be an organ donor. Exactly 1 month later he was tragically ripped from our lives. But that box he checked helped another person out there to regain the gift of sight. I can only hope this lucky individual can see the world the way my father uniquely did.
My sister ended our boast with words my daddy spoke often, especially when distance separated him from you. "Are you smiling? I can't hear you smiling? Oh come on, that's not nearly big enough." He would poke and prod with his corny farewell until, eventually, you were definitely smiling. To which he would reply: "Smile, it looks good on you."
On our way to the reception, my family was stopped several times by other families and Donor Network coordinators who thought our story was the most lovely recollection they heard and it made their hearts swell.
If interested in Donation and you live in Arizona, please visit this website:
To see the short news video click here: http://www.azcentral.com/video/#/News/Donor+family+ceremony/40280768001/35150280001/900253480001
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Now It's War!
For those of you who don't know, my brother has recently moved in with me and has spent the last 4 days following me around the house, waking me up, and surprise attacking me with this annoying song from the new T-Mobile commercial. (Reference: The Bro Hits Vegas)
Actual FB post:
Valerie
And if you didn't bother to click the link...
Saturday, March 5, 2011
The Bro Hits Vegas
Spent a fun-filled weekend in Phoenix and got Daniel all packed up for his big move to Vegas. Started the drive back Tuesday evening with trailer in tow.
Yeah, his mattress, dresser, clothes and TV turned into a completely full truck bed and 6x11 trailer. No joke.
We left Phoenix at 730pm and arrived at my doorstep 6.5 bumpy hours later. It wasn't all bad. My brother fortuitously has an after-market DVD player installed in his 20-year-old Ford truck and I spent the whole time watching True Blood.
I had never seen the show before, he had seasons 1 and 2 on DVD player and I was the perfect captive audience. One thing led to another and I have currently invested over 15 hours of my life to that show over the past 2 days.
I spent Wednesday morning unpacking Daniel and getting him comfortable in his new abode. Wednesday afternoon was devoted to True Blood. Finally Wednesday night rolled around and Daniel, ever restless, had me drive him to the Strip. I showed him the sights and we even stopped at the Gold and Silver Pawn Shop where Pawn Stars on History channel is filmed.
We left Phoenix at 730pm and arrived at my doorstep 6.5 bumpy hours later. It wasn't all bad. My brother fortuitously has an after-market DVD player installed in his 20-year-old Ford truck and I spent the whole time watching True Blood.
I had never seen the show before, he had seasons 1 and 2 on DVD player and I was the perfect captive audience. One thing led to another and I have currently invested over 15 hours of my life to that show over the past 2 days.
I spent Wednesday morning unpacking Daniel and getting him comfortable in his new abode. Wednesday afternoon was devoted to True Blood. Finally Wednesday night rolled around and Daniel, ever restless, had me drive him to the Strip. I showed him the sights and we even stopped at the Gold and Silver Pawn Shop where Pawn Stars on History channel is filmed.
I guess earlier in the day, Daniel saw this T-Mobile commercial:
Because he would not stop humming "Ble Bloo. Ble-de-be-boo-boop. It's the final countdown!" Seriously that song is stuck in my head now.
At midnight Daniel decides to go to the corner store for snacks, stays over an hour talking to the night shift clerk and comes home with a bunch of free stuff. This kid can make friends with a pig in a cornfield. It's weird.
So Thursday before Bryce is off to work, we all take time to drive around Vegas and show Daniel where different stores and malls and movie theaters, etc are so he can get acquainted with the town. Returning home after lunch, Daniel and I nestle in for another True Blood marathon-we're finally on season 2! Next thing I know, there's a young black man streaking across my back yard, paused at the corner of the wall, he looks around before jumping the 5 foot brick wall leading to the street, where he proceeds to run across the street to another neighborhood. I see him jump that fence into another backyard and then out of that yard to another before I lose track of him in a blur just as the sirens from a couple cop cars whiz by on the street he just ran across. Thoroughly freaked, I grab Daniel who was at my side and we run out back to witness the ordeal. Well, now would be a good time to learn how to shoot the rifle my brother brought with him, so 15 minutes of hastened lessons later, I consider myself armed and dangerous.
Also on Thursday: Daniel humming Final Countdown by Europe from the stupid T-Mobile commercial and it is now stuck in my husband's head and the periodically break into song throughout the day. I can't make this shit up.
So I think today will prove uneventful as the final day of my week long vacation. Alas, a once-in-a-lifetime event happens: I am wrong. I follow up my 2 hours of cardio this morning with another desperate true Blood marathon (so close to caught up!) and Daniel, growing weary of my new obsession, ventures out alone for a haircut and a car-wash. he texts me 30 minutes later to inform me he was rear-ended. Luckily, everyone is okay and his giant truck with a tow hitch did damaged the other car while sustaining no injuries. The other driver still felt terrible and gave Daniel $20 to cover his car wash. WTF? And now, as I am posting this, Daniel is out on a date. Less than 72 hours in Vegas and he has been in an accident, made a new friend at the Shell station, and is dating. I have been here almost 2 years and don't know anybody outside of my work. This kid.
Well....
Do-do-do-doooo. Do-do-dee-de-do. Dun-de-de-do. Do-do-do-do-do. 5..4..3..2..1..
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