We don’t live in Toronto anymore. Still, we watch the news from Toronto. After all, we don’t live that far away and we’re somewhat interested in what is going on. So, it greaves me to watch and hear all the negative stuff reported by the media about probably the best mayor they’ve ever had – at least in recent memory.
He’s not being judged on his work. Oh no. He’s being judged on his off-time activities. Granted, smoking crack is not a good thing. I’m not sure what crack is but I just don’t like the sound of it. Crack. Sounds like a fire-cracker going off in my mouth.
Being held to a higher standard is a lot of bunk. What it says is, it’s OK for the rest of you to live your lives as you see fit but not for him. He’s being held to a higher standard. I wish some of the reporters were held to a higher standard. Their reporting is of the rag sheets standard like the Mirror and Enquirer.
Now, we all know it’s all about selling ads. Without ads, the paper or station or website would not be in around for very long. So, they are obliged to sensationalize it as much as possible so that viewers/readers living boring lives can tell themselves they are so much more virtuous.
Give the guy a break and leave him alone.
You walk past bridal mags and flinch. Or you’re content just living together. Or maybe you prefer a bohemian, nontraditional, independent lifestyle free from any societal influence. Or maybe you haven’t found the one or don’t even believe in the concept of the one.
There are lots of reasons why marriage might not be for you.
And if you don’t want to get married, that’s no big deal these days. You can live your life as a loving, liberated, secure, satisfied person who does what he/she pleases. Damn those outdated, oppressive notions of being an unwanted spinster or romantic failure.
But what about the occasional day when you look at your married friends with envy.
Or when your family asks for the millionth time, “You don’t like being alone, do you?”
Or when you fill out your 817th form, check off the Single/Not Married box, and lose your effing mind.
If you ever have a moment of self-doubt around not being married, please hear this: Being unmarried doesn’t mean no babies, no home, no relationship, no sex, no carpools and no happiness.
Just like being married doesn’t guarantee babies, a home, a healthy relationship, hot sex, carpools, happiness or anything really.
Our point: Create the life you want. You don’t have to do anything except the stuff that pays the rent and makes you happy. If you want to have a kid, there are ways to do that. (Until then, there’s birth control.) If you want to be a homeowner, work towards it. And if you want to shack up without the formality of a marriage certificate, go for it. Just don’t ever feel bad about your choice if you choose not to marry.
If it’s right for you, it’s right.
(taken from “The Bedsider”)
“You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”
Ever heard that one? I don’t care how many performance enhancement drugs you take, you cannot take a good athlete and make him a great one. Add to that the agony of cancer treatments and his steel determination to beat it and all other obstacles – in my view, the man is a giant among men.
Leave him alone.
I understand the egos. I understand the resentment his competitors felt over Lance winning seven consecutive Tour de France. Had I been in those races, I would have felt the same – maybe. There had to be something that made him unique. Let me see – what could that be? I know – he took performance enhancement drugs. Get the cheater!
I wonder how many other cyclists in those races also took the same or similar drugs but did not improve their performance. Then could it be something else that made the difference? Could it be talent, fitness and determination?
Leave the man alone.
Let me just say that I love Michelle Obama. She is charming, unassuming and strong – PLUS, she has perfect upper arms.
But, what is going on? Women everywhere are sporting sleeveless dresses in the middle of winter. Not only that, but women whose upper arms need serious help are also wearing them. Dear God. Why are we so willing to follow a trend when it clearly does not do a thing for most of us? Is it that we are weak without fashion flare of our own? Is this like high school when the most popular girl in school had an entourage of schoolmates wearing similar garb? Is this like being in the “in” crowd?
Hero worship has always been a part of our social fabric. We take a celebrity and, by emulating them, we too feel like – well – a semi-celebrity. We walk in their shadows.
Grow up ladies. Look in the mirror. Those sleeveless tops are fine for summer in the searing heat, wearing flip-flops and sipping on a Margarita. Or, if you are one of those very few who sport lovely toned upper arms like Michelle, then at least dress for the weather.
They said it would be the tightest race in history. It wasn’t. Sure, it was close but he won by a decent majority both from the electoral college and the popular vote.
Revenge of the 47%.
And poor Romney only had one speech prepared and that’s why it took him two hours to give the concession speech. Talk about delusional. Still, I didn’t mind him so much. He was dragged this way and that by the party members, especially the Tea Party. Gawd, who let them in?
My husband who is conservative all the way is panicking. Huh? He thinks it’s the end of the road for America. Huh? He thinks the entire world is going to the dogs. Huh? I don’t blame him. He’s an old white guy. He fits the demographics.
I didn’t sleep much last night. I am tired. It’s going to be a long day.