Oh Ann Coulter, you just keep making me hate you

Here's the latest from everyone's favorite skinny blonde nutjob:

"If we took away women’s right to vote, we’d never have to worry about another Democrat president. It’s kind of a pipe dream, it’s a personal fantasy of mine, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. And it is a good way of making the point that women are voting so stupidly, at least single women.

It also makes the point, it is kind of embarrassing, the Democratic Party ought to be hanging its head in shame, that it has so much difficulty getting men to vote for it. I mean, you do see it’s the party of women and 'We’ll pay for health care and tuition and day care — and here, what else can we give you, soccer moms?'"

It's a personal fantasy of yours to take away your own right to vote? I always figured Anne was more the S of whatever crazy S&M sex play she and Karl Rove had going on, but I guess she's more more of the submissive type than we thought.

Also, what is up with the cocktail dresses? You're on Good Morning America. It's seven o'clock in the morning. You look like a call girl.

Why Don't I Just Take Over the Class?

If there's really not enough venom and cursing here to qualify for a true Cunt Face post, it's because it is cross-posted from my own blog, so I'm cheating. It is full of sarcasm and bitterness though!

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Few things in life irritate me more than dealing with my son's school. My son is autistic and spends most of each day in a special ed classroom, where he (theoretically) receives instruction that is tailored to his individual needs. Those of you who have been reading my blog for a while will recall that I was seriously pissed off at the end of the last school year. I was fed up and livid and cursing in all caps (oh, and there will be just a little more of that today), because I spent all of last year fighting with the school district to get them to bring in additional (legally mandated) resources to address a problem that was interfering with my son's learning. They did nothing but stall, accuse me of being difficult and tell me that, in spite of my son's declining performance, the best people to address the problem were the classroom teachers under whom his performance was declining. Oh, no wait. How silly of me! I forgot. They actually did propose adding one additional resource to the classroom: me, as a free aide.

After a summer filled with down time, and work with one of the world's great amateur behaviorists and OTs (yes, me), my son and I worked out a solution to his problem. He started the school year and has made rapid progress in his former problem area, to the point where he no longer requires assistance. Thanks for nothing, school district.

Of course, a new problem has cropped up in a different subject. I received a note last week from his teacher stating that she was sending his classroom work home for me to finish with him, as he had not been doing his work but had been "fooling around" and "wasting time." I (very calmly) wrote back and said I'd be happy to help him at home, but shouldn't we, oh, I don't know, find out why he wasn't doing his work in class and figure out how to address it? She wrote back and very tersely said that any suggestions would be appreciated.

What?! Um, unless I'm mistaken, she's the teacher. She's the one with the degree. She's the one with the actual training in working with kids with special needs. She's the one whose job it is to figure out how to engage kids in learning and how to ensure that they behave themselves in class. Oh, and lest you say she's overworked and underpaid (which she is). She's also the one who was such a big expert, so perfectly capable of handling my son's needs herself, that she adamantly and repeatedly stated that she didn't need or want to bring in an outside specialist to help her with my son last year. But my unpaid, inexpert labor, under her direction, is, of course, always welcome.

So, I sat down with my son for 10 minutes, quickly determined what particular obsessions were preventing him from doing the work, thought up several ways in which we could break the task down into more manageable components for him and got him to finish the work. I wrote the teacher a note with my suggestions on getting him to complete the work in the classroom, put the completed work in his backpack and haven't heard back from her since. And to top it all off, that important classroom work we did hasn't been removed from his backpack all week; each day, it comes back home to me a little more crumpled and worse for wear, because nobody has bothered to take it out and look at it.

This year, I am going to try something new. I am done with threatening to sue. I am done with going into debt to pay for representation to force the school district to bring in someone with even more "expertise" to help in the classroom. From now on, I'm going to be a bitch in a new way. I'm going to tell the teachers how to do their jobs. I'm going to teach them all the amateur OT and behavioral techniques I've painstakingly learned through the last six years. I'm going to share the knowledge and share the wealth and maybe, just maybe, one day they'll be able to DO THEIR FUCKING JOBS! If not, I'll at least have saved some money, stayed out of blood pressure raising IEP meetings and ended up no worse off in terms of the education my son is receiving.

Feeling a little dickstracted?

I have recently come to a conclusion: I need to stop exercising, stop wearing makeup, stop wearing clothing that could be in any way construed to accentuate my curvy ass. I need to start shaving the hair on my head and stop shaving the coarse, dark hair on my legs. For that matter, I need to hide my legs altogether. It confuses men, and I’m tired of having to pick up the pieces of the aftermath of their confusion.

A man recently engaged me in conversation at a quiet little bar while my girlfriend was in the ladies’ room. Somehow it came up in our conversation that my husband and I were talking about splitting up and had been in marriage counseling for the past 6 months. It turns out that he could relate to what I was saying, being divorced himself. I didn’t feel attracted to him, and he seemed like a really nice person, so when he said he enjoyed talking to me too and asked me for my phone number, I didn’t hesitate. After all, I’m a married woman; he knows I’m a married woman. Men and women can be friends, right?

No, they can’t. I agreed to meet him for a quick lunch that week, figuring that lunch on a weekday clearly said, “I like talking to you, but I will never touch your penis.” We had a good time, and I learned things about him that further led me to believe he was a really good guy. Several days later, he invited me to see a movie with him on a Friday night. “Friday night” made me nervous. The idea of the dark theater made me uneasy. So I said okay but made sure to mention that my husband was in the next room putting the groceries away, just in case he needed a little reminder.

So after the movie we decided to get a bite to eat. Our conversation led to the most natural thing for me to talk about (what is most heavily on my mind as of late): the fact that my husband has not budged in all of these months of therapy and still wants to leave me.

That’s when Mr. Really Good Guy gets this look. It’s like the expression just slides off of his face, falls to the floor, and shatters. I can almost hear it. He clears his throat and says, “So, you guys are in marriage counseling right now?”

I say, very matter-of-fact, “Yes.”

Then he asks whether that means I'm not ready to date anyone again.

I think he expected me to be apologetic or something – like, “yeah, I’m sorry; I thought I was ready, but as it turns out…” Well, I wasn’t apologetic. I didn’t do anything wrong.

So I’m sitting there thinking, “We covered this, remember? The very first conversation we had? The bar wasn’t even crowded or noisy? I think I was speaking English? But maybe you couldn’t hear me because you were too busy trying to picture me naked?”

At the end of the non-date, he actually shook my hand. Shook my hand!

Meanwhile, back on the homefront, it seems that what has taken my husband so long to figure out that marriage counseling is a waste of our time (he’s not changing his mind) is that – well -- he still gets all tight in the pants when I enter a room. The few times a month we see each other have often ended in the kind of sex that makes the doors and windows rattle. “It’s never been about that,” he keeps reminding me. Well, no shit, I think to myself.

So now that I’m older and wiser, why not try to look as old and wise as possible? Pray for the gray hair to come in faster. Let gravity take over. Maybe I’ll even stop showering. I’m tired of men not being able to figure out whether it’s me they’re interested in or whether it’s just my ass. So maybe I need to make it a little easier for them; maybe I need to take away all of these dickstractions.

Martial Art Ho's

As per request, here is my rant on martial art ho's. There are two type of girls in my martial arts class that drives me nuts. The first type is the wussy girls. The ones that take the class but don't even bother trying. Why the fuck are you taking a martial arts class if you are worried about be thrown or breaking a nail, or God forbid! breaking a sweat! Uhhh, hello..... the nail salon is next door. Just stay your fat boring self and stop wasting my time. If i have to spar you, i am not holding back. i am kicking your ass. And self defense, i am throwing you down and putting you in a submissive hold until you tap out. You are not making me change my training cause you are a total waste of time.

The other type of martial art girl i hate is the literal ho. She married our master. Yep, he was married before and they were trying to keep their relationship a secret before they were married. Now during the middle of training, she will just walk off and go to the lobby to answer questions, sit down or feel like she doesn't have to participate in class if she doesn't feel like it. The best is when our master yells at her and makes her do the exercise.

Now let me clarify, she is both the first and second type of girl. There are girls in the class that are just wusses. Either way the fucking suck. I hate it. I had two awesome ninjas i trained with and they left me alone.... one being JW and one that finally got her ass back to class. I was left alone to train with these useless annoying people. I hate wimpy girls. I want kick ass girls. I want my ninja crew to come back. i got my one....... come home JW. i want to be hit in the head with your beautiful axe kicks. and we can do our forms together and make it look like it should.. not all fucked up like these boys make it look.


OHHHHH! one other part of my rant. This is for the insane Indian guys who come an take class. They have these crazy legs that are all over the place, no fucking control, long ass toenails, and smell of curry. Please take care of that shit! I don't care what your ethnicity is. Just stop being fucking crazy batshit insane, listen and keep yourself clean!

Now bitch, pay up! hehe