Birth Control is EVERYONE's responsibility. There are plenty of ways to keep informed about birth control, AIDS, abortion, pregnancy, etc. If you choose not to practice safe sex then you may face unwanted pregnancies, sexually transmitted diseases, or even death. So please take the time to inform yourself. The internet has many pages relating to these topics, so check them out.
I'm not saying its a bad thing to have a little wriggling critter to raise. I'm saying KNOW YOUR OPTIONS. Educate yourself a little bit. If your going to bring a bundle of joy into the world, be sure its wanted and welcomed as it grows up. There are too many kids in the world who just don't get a chance to develop to their full potential- some not even to half their potential. Did you know that if a baby doesn't get proper nutrition in its first two years of life, its brain never fully develops? That means they could potentially turn into ZOMBIE, RIGHT-WING REPUBLICANS! So bear in mind the concept of PREVENTION.
Birth Control is an annoying but essential part of a woman's life. There are lots of clinics that give pills for free or at very low cost which you take every day. (Here in Mexico the Pill costs around $2 US dollars per month.) There are shots you can get every three months. There are hormonal implants (NORPLANT) which give protection up to 5 or 6 years. There are IUD's (which scare me but are suppose to be safe). There are condoms, sponges, spermicide gels, foams, or of course there are diaphragms (the dog chewed mine up thinking it was a shrunken frisbee...) Or go whole hog and vasectimize yo' man. Or tie your tubes, take em out, or better yet ABSTAIN completely from sexual contact!! Whatever you do, REMEMBER TO PROTECT YOURSELF!!!
If you are not inspired by my poetic plea, then you may need this link sometime in the future... Emergency Contraception.
Sadie´s opinion...* Bitch,bitch, bitch...* Salesgirl...* School?...* Home Sweet home...* Why Mexico?...* Cats, Parakeets, VCRs...* Ex-boyfriends...*
Consider bitch. The verb that is. Eternally bitching is what I do. I live vicariously through my bitching. When the SOB's in my neighborhood set the car alarm off every morning at 6 am because they are too retarded to remember they have one- that usually gets me started. OR if the roommates leave the gas heater on all night. (Money doesn't grow on trees you ingrates! And how about washing a plate or two sometime.)
It could be an artform I suppose. It is not because I am hateful, but because I have no tolerance for idiocy. When people do dumbass things, my first reaction (after rolling eyes heavenward) is to COMPLAIN.
And why not? If enough people bitch about things, imagine what we could accomplish...
Sadie´s opinion...* Bitch,bitch, bitch...* Salesgirl...* School?...* Home Sweet home...* Why Mexico?...* Cats, Parakeets, VCRs...* Ex-boyfriends...*
I was in tears. I never thought consulting work would be hard. All ya gotta do is walk in, look around and say "Changes. You need bi-i-ig changes." Then they pay you obscene amounts of money to harrass their employees for a few months. I thought it looked like so much fun!
But somehow, someway I ended up in a consulting job which required me to do sales and promotion. Gulp. I was forced to telephone people and talk to them! I had to send email and snail mail, and make little sales' pitches. It was a nightmare!!!! I now officially have empathy for salespeople everywhere. Mind you there were only about 40 customers in our tiny little niche. And usually they responded to the emails, thereby allowing me to evade the horror of a phone conversation with them. But sometimes they can be so cruel. Like the secretary I called about 8 times trying to reach her boss. "Um, he's flossing at the moment, can he call you back?"
Someday, you will be reading your personal news on the internet and there will be a headline: Young Consultant flings Laptop, then Self out Fourth Floor Window. Probably just break an ankle or something, anyhow. Which I wouldn't be able to afford to cast, since as a consultant I have no health insurance. So then I'd eventually get gange green and my foot would rot off and an infection would move into my leg and then up into my body and eventually I'd die a slow and painful death. No doubt still waiting for clients to return my calls.
Sadie´s opinion...* Bitch,bitch, bitch...* Salesgirl...* School?...* Home Sweet home...* Why Mexico?...* Cats, Parakeets, VCRs...* Ex-boyfriends...*
School sucked. I can never deny that. My teachers tortured me, the students ridiculed me, the bullies stole my lunch, and we didn't even have computers when I was in K through 12. I didn't see a pc till my second year in college- gracias to our budget education system.
And my mom's a teacher. Trust me, I heard even more horror stories than the average messed up kid. Its hard to convince people of the importance of a good education when you have 12 years of nauseating memories and the current daily news horror stories staring you in the face. Gunshots, stabbings, and dynamite in the locker make it sound like guerilla warfare, and thats just the fourth grade. Imagine high school, with clics, calculus class, dating, the right clothes, putting up with those mean tall boys and I'd rather be shot in the cafeteria than eat the food. And I haven't even dared mention college yet. Good lord! I don't think that there is enough memory in my computer to document the nightmare that was my college experience. The unrequited love, my personal ban on the bra, my stolen bike, my VW van (20 years too late to be a hippie). The guidance counselor--what a contradiction in terms, political science--an oxymoron's oxymoron, MBA- an exercise in futility. Sigh.
ANd the only thing I got out of it were some crappy credentials from third rate institutes. Gee how many Fortune 500 companies will say "Wow- a graduate degree from State U- we better snag her now!"
But thats not the point, er, the point is to go to school anyway because it will give you so much casual bitching material for the future! No, wait, stay in school because even Food World won't want you without a high school diploma. Actually if they did hire you without a high school diploma they'd probably give the management positions to tall, white boys who also don't have diplomas.
The same thing applies to college graduates. You may get in the door. But the management spots will go to tall, white boys who have the same degree as you.
And if you have a Masters, you will get the management position, but all the career advancement positions that come along will go to that damn tall white jerk.
And when you finally get a doctorate, you might get to be a Director or a VP someday but the Board of Directors will be filled with tall white greying at the temples of their nice pompadour basturds and you will have about half as much credibility as the TWJ contingent. Unless you are braindead enough to sleep with one of those types. Get the picture?
So thats why you should get a good education. So that you will understand just exactly why I, er, you are so frustrated and bitter by the time you are 27, er, twenty-something. Thank you.
Sadie´s opinion...* Bitch,bitch, bitch...* Salesgirl...* School?...* Home Sweet home...* Why Mexico?...* Cats, Parakeets, VCRs...* Ex-boyfriends...*
I like my home but I usually go nuts after about one week under mom's roof. As Morrissey sings "Its not my home, its their home, and I'm welcome no more.." I just don't fit in there anymore. I don't usually get the remote anymore. Bedtime and turning off the tv become an issue.
Mind you, I love my home. My mom's house is beautiful. Its rustic, surrounded by trees, theres a pond, a garden. All the family cats are there. Whom I love dearly. Plus the parakeets are there. And mom's little dog. I'd tell you their names but then you'd have every password myself or my mom ever came up with.
The point is, and there is a point, one must get out of their home before they go stark raving mad. You can work a crappy minimum wage job or a humiliating temp job anywhere! Plus it gives your folks a chance to take those dance lessons they never had, and get cable. Or as in my mom´s case become a radical folk singer and dye your hair flame red!!
Cut the apron strings my friends! There's no need for guilt. There doesn't have to be a single thing wrong with your home and family for you to want to leave-- its instinct! Its like the biological time clock, only more annoying...
Sadie´s opinion...* Bitch,bitch, bitch...* Salesgirl...* School?...* Home Sweet home...* Why Mexico?...* Cats, Parakeets, VCRs...* Ex-boyfriends...*
I really don't know why I'm in Mexico. There just had to be something else out there, I believe that was my reasoning. Being from a small town makes you crave big cities which is why the big cities are filled with a bunch of corn-fed yokels. (Myself excluded. Of course.) Urban migration I believe its called. Well here I am, one of the millions who leave the quiet beauty of the countryside to live in the world's largest, nastiest, smelliest city. Not that I don't like it here. Mexico City is one of the most interesting places I've been. Well, I'll admit San Francisco is cool (but most of the gorgeous men are homosexual :( and you must have tons of money to afford to live there.) Ahem. As I was saying, Mexico City is alright.
I've only been mugged once, assalted a few times, and had my passport stolen by the police once (whos counting?) Yeah it sounds like a bowl of cherries, right? Well, I'm not dead. Rents cheap. Foods cheap. There's a subway here. They have a million buses so you always get where you need to go for just a few pesos. Everyone has parakeets. You do laundry on the roof instead of the basement. And lots of people talk to me since I'm differnt'. I'm like Jerry Lewis in France here!
The one thing is though, its really the same inside my head. You know what I mean? I am just as wigged out, paranoid and grumpy as I was there. Its just not so blatant and poke-funably obvious here. I still get insecurity pangs now and again in my never ending search for the perfect job. And I try to tap my inner-creativity but I'd rather live vicariously through (the spanish translated adventures of ) Friends. I get invited to parties and shows, but once the novelty wears off, I'm just another loud-mouthed American with plenty of mental problems and PMS to boot. Ah, home sweet home!
I still can't manage to keep jobs, boyfriends, friends, my weight down, or make witty banter. So really, being in Mexico City is sort of like being in a parallel universe, except it stinks and the people are shorter. And there's no leash law. And cockroaches have voting rights.
Sadie´s opinion...* Bitch,bitch, bitch...* Salesgirl...* School?...* Home Sweet home...* Why Mexico?...* Cats, Parakeets, VCRs...* Ex-boyfriends...*
I love my cats. And parakeets (Bertie: rest in peace). And my VCR. None of which I ever see anymore since I've been exiled to Mexico. Oh I see other people's cats and birds, but its just not the same as being ignored by your own pets. I've only met one or two mexicans who have VCRs and they are way too mamon (spanish for jerk-like) to let me come over and watch stuff. I saw a guy selling a hot tv and stereo on the corner today-- I'll tell him to come back when he gets a VCR.
It really cramps my style that my significant other has seen practically none of my favorite all time classic movies. He has not seen "The Jerk", "Moonstruck", "Sid and Nancy", "Some Kind of Wonderful", "True Romance", "Muriel's Wedding", or "La Femme Nikita" nor is he an afficionado of the early Muppet Show, Beetlejuice (the cartoon), or Ren & Stimpy. They have showed Ren & Stimpy in Mexico, but it got taken off the air pronto. I have no doubt that Southpark will not be arriving anytime soon either. My only salvation is obtaining a damn VCR ! I'm afraid Pablo and I are limited to discussing our favorite films in monolog form while the other drowns in cafe con leche and Delicado cigarettes. I guess Pablo and I could talk about cats and parakeets.
If anyone wants to donate a VCR to Sadie please email!
Sadie´s opinion...* Bitch,bitch, bitch...* Salesgirl...* School?...* Home Sweet home...* Why Mexico?...* Cats, Parakeets, VCRs...* Ex-boyfriends...*
Back in the early 90's, a friend of mine made a rather damaging fanzine called "You Date 'em, We Rate 'em"(C) in which she trashed her and her friends ex-boyfriends. In the spirit (or mean-spirit) of that I would like to make my own digital variation of that 'zine.
Getting dumped just sucks, what else can you say? (A lot apparently, says reader.) I don't think its female specific- guys get dumped on too. But it just seems more fatale in us women. I tried to blame it on my folks divorce but I hate that theory. Its just a convenient way for me not to have to assume responsibility. There is some truth to the fact that my dad's leaving when I was a little kid makes me not trust people, men rather. I trust women pretty well- resulting in my friends being jerks to me (you know who you are- well actually you probably don't, you stupid jerk.) The point is that many of my boyfriends and I had very grave breakups the result of which fragmented my heart. In retrospect, I still don't know who was to blame, but at the time I felt like shit.
Boyfriend #1(in time sequence only): the musician.Went out on me with
ex-best friend (afore-mentioned bitch), wrote crappy songs, practiced religously
and managed to put a band together despite lack of talent. Ok, he could play
guitar. Acted like a big baby at home, all cuddly- wuddly
(nauseating), but pretended we weren't together if we went out in public. Avid
pro-life but against condoms. Never changed his socks. Score: -2
Boyfriend #2: the pothead. Laid back attitude, good mechanic, intelligent but pot stupor minimizes follow-through, never
talked (another pot symptom?), no fashion sense (love is blind), couldn't
dance. Score: 2
Boyfriend #3: the alcoholic. Intelligent, unemployed, depressed,
needy, kept comparing me to his ex-girlfriend, wanted to stay at the pub till
all hours (pouted if I insisted we go home), threw me down the stairs when I
said I was leaving him. Score: -2
Boyfriend #4: the sweetheart. Sweet, sweet, sweet, unfortunately
woman cannot live on candy alone, lacked substance, the light was on but nobody
was home. Score: 2
Boyfriend #5: the tattoo "artist". Jerk, jerk, jerk,
unfortunately woman cannot live on...you get the point. This one swore undying
love, said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, then dumped me. So
why isn't he dead yet!?! Score: -2
Boyfriend #6: Mr.Right!!!! Hey, what can I say. I finally met someone I can live with! Knock on Wood! Score: 10! Woooo! (Ok- I realize I am suppose to be trashing men here, but, I just want to give a fair shake to my positive side now and again!)
[Author's note: this is horribly wrong! i'm way past boyfriend #10 at this time and obviously this rating scheme is a bit skewed. Its easy to criticize to take away the sting of rejection. This is going on 10 years out of date and no, i'm not with Mr. Right yet. There is no such thing.
Go and read Edna St.Vincent Millay's treatise on the subject of love for some real inspiration.]
Sadie´s opinion...* Bitch,bitch, bitch...* Salesgirl...* School?...* Home Sweet home...* Cats, Parakeets, VCRs...* Why Mexico?...* Ex-boyfriends...* Back to Sadie´s Page...