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Goodbye to you

Dear Bread, Pasta, Various Other Starches, Cheese and Sugar:

You and I have been inseparable for many, many years. I can’t even express how much I love you — truly love you — in all your wonderful, delectable forms.

Unfortunately, Eddie is making me give you up. It’s that damn CrossFit addiction. I wish there could be an Al Anon-type support system for spouses of members of the CrossFit cult.

Apparently, that CrossFit prescription of “constantly varied, high intensity, functional movement” also means “Don’t you dare put more than five grams of sugar in your mouth each day, and eat only meat, seeds, nuts and vegetables all caveman-style.”

So the children and I, being CrossFit heathens, have unhealthy habits and must conform. In good conscience, I can’t continue to spend time with you, let alone invite you into our house. I could go rogue, but the guilt would be too much to handle.

I love you — you know I do. I just can’t see you anymore. Please know that this isn’t easy for me. In fact (and I’m looking at you, Bread), I want to hang out with you right now. Especially if you are hot and bringing your friend Butter.

But I can’t.

I’m sure I’ll see you once in a while, out and about. That’s it. I hope you understand.

Love always,
Beth

Ignorance is this

Dear Certain Conservative White Male Politicians:

I know you are not in favor of sex ed in schools. It is clear you need some kind of education, though.

Let me explain reproduction to you in the terms similar to those I used for my son when he was four:

Boys and girls have different parts between their legs. When these parts come together, sometimes they can make a baby.

It doesn’t matter if these parts belong to people in the same family (incest), of different ages (statutory rape), or if the girl was not willing (rape).

And unlike EL James’ book, there aren’t 50 shades of grey when it comes to rape. Rape is rape. If one person doesn’t want to participate, it’s rape. There is no qualifier (like “legitimate”) before that word.

I cannot believe I have to explain this.

You sound like Johnny Nogerelli, Adrian Zmed’s character in “Grease 2“:

‎Can’t a girl just do that thing in a book where she adds up the dates of her uh — whaddayacallit — mentalstration?

No one likes to look like a complete idiot, so I’m going to help you out. Here is a link to a “How Stuff Works” exploration of reproduction. It even talks about contraception, so maybe you can share that with your buddy Rush. Please read at your leisure. You don’t even have to admit you read it. But if you do, it will save you future embarrassment.

Supporting the understanding and protection of lady bits,
Beth

Welcome to my reality

Dear Programming Executives at TLC, A&E, MTV, Bravo, Spike TV and Other Networks:

I just can’t thank you enough for your support of reality television. Anyone who knows me knows my obsession with the genre. Just look:

That was a response to me talking about “Tabatha Takes Over,” one of the many shows I watch. I know they are all edited for maximum drama and effect. I don’t care.

Let others have their “Breaking Bad” and “True Blood.” Give me “Hoarders” and “Pawn Stars.” While many watch the antics of characters such as Dr. Gregory House and Sheldon Lee Cooper, I can’t get enough of Lieutenant Dennis Croft and Barry Weiss.

Title a show “Man with the 200 lb. tumor” or “Half-ton Dad,” and you can guarantee I’m clearing my schedule. In fact, tonight I’m going from a marathon of “Caught on Camera” into recordings of “Project Runway” straight into “Small Town Security.” And I’ve made plans to ogle Honey Boo Boo on Wednesday.

Yes, there are other things I should be doing, should be watching. And no, I won’t.

Why? Because truth is stranger than fiction. Give me “real” people any day.

Read what Cantonrep.com staff writer Charita Goshay wrote about reality TV. I love her; she gets it. And I think she and I should be friends.

Maybe you can do a reality show about us. Oh wait. You have one: “My Strange Addiction.”

Thanks all the same,
Beth

The ubiquitous Facebook Eeyore

Dear Facebook Friends:

I think I need to explain why I use Facebook. I use it to:

  • Stay connected with people I don’t see every day.
  • Find out interesting information (news, trivia, links, etc.).
  • Enjoy astute and/or funny comments on links, status updates, photos, etc.
  • Share photos.
  • Make plans.
  • Promote new posts on this blog.

I do not use it to:

  • Boost my self-esteem by sending friend requests to everyone who breathes in my direction.
  • Boost other people’s self-esteem by blowing sunshine up their asses constantly. (Some people seem to need this. Sorry. I can’t do it.)

I barely know some of you on my friends list, but that’s OK. There must be something about your posts I like. If not, I hide your posts in my news feed.

What kinds of things make me want to hide you?

  • Passive-aggressive status updates.
  • Posts about what new material items you have acquired, will acquire or want to acquire.
  • Song lyrics, Bible verses and cryptic poetry.
  • Minutiae of your life.
  • Constant complaining.
  • Relentless self-promotion.
  • Trash-talking.
  • Numerous photos of yourself taken with your phone.
  • Posting opinions and then getting mad if someone disagrees with you.
  • Game and app invitations and posts.

Once in a while is fine for all these things. (Heck, I’m even guilty of a couple of those.) If it is every day, then Houston, we have a problem.

I’m not the only one who feels this way. Take a look at this comic from The Oatmeal.

I rarely defriend people, though, because I worry about backlash. I am thrilled (THRILLED!), though, when one of these repeat offenders defriends me.

This happened recently. Perhaps the person hoped to punish me by denying me access to constant attention-seeking status reports, on which I refused to comment. We don’t share the same goals, sense of humor, world views, values, or even the same appreciation for punctuation. So neither of us was getting anything out of this virtual relationship.

Of course I wish this person all the best in life. I really do. I’m just happy not to be part of it on Facebook, or feel guilty for not having anything to say about it.

Now, as for the rest of you, I look forward to your funny observations, shrewd comments, links to Daily Show clips, and details of strange experiences like watching someone take photos of your house.

Update away, good friends!
Beth

Olympic-sized outrage

Dear Jared Frank, KHQ Web producer:

We haven’t met, and probably never will. Yet I’m writing to you because you are a representative of the spoiler culture of NBC.

Let me tell you a little about myself: I’m the kind of person who enjoys suspense, does not flip to the back of a book to see what happens, and who did not find out the gender of her children in advance of their births. I don’t think wanting to enjoy watching events unfold without knowing the outcome makes me a “whiner.”

Clearly, you do.

Here’s what you said about people like me:

You know what else gets me? Whiners. You know what I am talking about: the people on the Internet, complaining about how this person or that media outlet spoiled the surprise by cheering on Facebook or Twitter.

For those of us who did not want to know who won what medal in which event, we DID avoid Facebook, Twitter and various other information outlets. However, NBC as a whole, affiliates included, has been sharing this information freely during broadcasts, promos, etc., when we are trying to watch the events unfold.

And many of us are irritated that we have to watch races on a tape delay in the first place so that NBC can reap prime time ratings. (Don’t talk about the live streaming. It’s not exactly a success story, is it?)

It is fine to explain that our digital age makes it easy to share and instant information hard to ignore. But perhaps you could do as magazines do in reviews/articles and simply add two words: “spoiler alert.” Your station, KHQ, finally decided that was the right path.

But don’t you think it is a little harsh to call us, the viewers media outlets are so desperate to attract and keep, whiners? I do.

I bet you are the kind of guy who tells everyone watching a movie what’s about to happen. Do you have so little excitement in your life that you want to ruin surprises for others? That’s sad. And it isn’t good business sense in your position.

Maybe I’m just whining.

So be it.

But I’m never going to go to a movie with you, so don’t ask.

Enjoying cheese with my whine,
Beth

Dear people who ate at Chick-fil-A today simply because Mike Huckabee declared it “Chick-fil-A appreciation day”:

I’m impressed: You decided you felt strongly enough about something that you got motivated to show support. Let’s ignore the fact that you got a meal while doing it.

Many people thought they were just showing support for “Christian” values. It sounds noble and all, but that reasoning is flawed. The God I know doesn’t discriminate. It’s “love thy neighbor” not “love thy straight neighbor.” But you can support whoever you want, whatever business you want, even if they donate money to hate groups. (Are you sure you want to give your money to a business that gives money to groups that actively persecute people? Really?)

The law, however, has to be fair to everyone — gay, straight, Christian, atheist, born here or naturalized. And the laws in this country regarding marriage are discriminatory. I’ve written about this before, so I won’t shove it down your throats again.

The reason I’m writing today is to ask you to do one small thing: Spend the same amount of time you spent in line today (or getting to the line in the first place) thinking about how you would feel if your government told you that you couldn’t marry the person you loved. Separate church from state. Please.

It’s 2012. Why are we as a nation doing the same kinds of things whites did to blacks decades ago? Didn’t we as a nation learn anything? Saying “You can’t do this because you’re not like us” just can’t be the way we do things today. It’s just not right.

So enjoy that chicken sandwich. I hope it was worth it — that you said what you REALLY wanted to say with your money.

And I respect your freedom to spend your money wherever you want, and your freedom to make a statement. In turn, I hope you respect mine.

Not eating “hate chicken,”
Beth

Dear Saddle Bags:

Thank you for opening in Savannah in May. You’ve filled the country dance hall/saloon void that formed when Stetson’s on Mall Boulevard closed. (Stetson’s is now Star Castle Family Entertainment Center. Not a suitable replacement, in my opinion.)

You are now the go-to place when Eddie and I need a night out. (Don’t judge. We don’t get out much. You’ll see why we like it here.)

Where else can the young, middle-aged and old mingle so happily together — watching the band, dancing, riding a bull? You are a place where young men help older, drunk women heave themselves onto the bull’s back.

You are a place where men proudly carry purses.

You are a place where men in cowboy hats wear Mardi Gras beads in July.

You are a place where other men in hats line dance alongside their accountants while two drunk girls dance with each other.

You are a place where men are fond of dirty dancing — with each other.

In short, you are everything a people-watcher could want. Thank you for bringing so much joy into my life.

See you in a couple of weeks!
Beth

Eat less “chikin”

Dear Dan Cathy:

I am impressed by your ability to lead Chick-fil-A, a business with 1,608 restaurants and sales of more than $4 billion last year. I’m also impressed that you publicly voice your beliefs, even if they are unpopular. (At least they seem to be unpopular in my social circle.)

You know you’ve chosen a tough road when even the Muppets hate you.

I fully support your ability as an American to support “the biblical definition of the family unit.” As I’ve mentioned before, I think people can support whatever they want in their church and private lives. But if we are talking about legislation, then we will have to agree to disagree.

All men are created equal” to me means that all people should have the access to the same rights in the United States — paid for, of course, via tax dollars (that everyone pays regardless of, well, anything. Unless they have really good lawyers. Or lobbyists).

Truth be told, I haven’t eaten at one of your restaurants since 1994. That was when I bit into a filet sandwich and found an unsavory hunk of cartilage. Little did I know then that your beliefs were unsavory (to me) as well.

That little bit of gristle saved me from eventual guilt, though, at supporting an organization that does not support all people. Feel free to believe what you believe, support what you support. I’ll be over at Taco Bell, faux beef and all.

Exercising my right to choose,
Beth

Yeah, I can be myself here in this small town
And people let me be just what I want to be.

— John Mellencamp

Dear Citizens of Ringgold, Georgia:

I am totally impressed with you. Small towns often get a bad rap — targeted as intolerant communities. And maybe some (many) are.

But you are showing via AMC’s new show, “Small Town Security,” that you are accepting of different kinds of people, including transgendered “lieutenant” Dennis Croft.

I admit I didn’t really see that coming in the first episode. I thought Croft might be gay, but the truth was more surprising and interesting. What’s more, Croft is in love with his married boss, Joan Koplan, otherwise known as “The Chief.” She owns JJK Security with her husband Irwin, who seems to be accepting of this situation and enjoys the meals Croft cooks for them on a regular basis. Fascinating. Truth really is stranger than fiction.

Croft (second from left), Koplan (center) and the cast of “Small Town Security”

And you, citizens of Ringgold, don’t appear to be fazed at all. At least, not according to Croft. Good for you!

You certainly aren’t like these punctuation- and spelling-challenged people:

(My favorite is “high fullutent.” Yes, I think they meant “highfaluting.” And I think I’m about 12 things on that list.)

Anyway, thanks for showing that “small town” doesn’t always mean “small-minded.”

Slack-jawed in awe,
Beth

Dear Ashley Van Sipma:

I discovered your article about World’s Fattest Woman Pauline Potter via a link to a Huffington Post version of the story a friend posted on my Facebook wall. (Thanks Julia!)

I can’t imagine what you must have thought when your Closer (UK) editor assigned the story. Or maybe you found Potter on your own.

American journalists are supposed to try to avoid inserting bias by using words such as “shockingly” and “incredibly,” but really, I think you just put into words what we all were thinking.

I admire your restraint in not editorializing more, instead choosing to let Potter and her ex-husband Alex tell the tale I’m not sure we needed to know.

While I admire Potter’s attempts to lose weight by exercising, I’m not sure I needed to know that she does it through sex with Alex the Ex up to seven times a day. And I certainly didn’t need to know that “it’s great exercise just jiggling around.” And that he came sniffing around again when she had hit her largest weight of 728 pounds. (Does he have a little fetish?)

During the interview, what did you do when Alex said the following?

It’s hard to position her and find her pleasure spots as she has a lot of fat in the pelvic area. But it turns me on knowing she’s satisfied. Although once, when she got on top, I couldn’t breathe.

Did you just look down at the notepad and keep on writing, pretending this was the most normal interview ever? Or did you look up, eyes wide, shocked at your good luck at finding someone so quotable?

I mean, this is great news for Potter as she’s lost 98 pounds already. And they both seem very happy. But I just think that the quotes are so candid — graphic even — that it forces us as readers to gawk, gape and form lasting mental images.

But perhaps this frank reporting will be inspiring to others.

Anyway, good job on the article, and congrats on Huffington Post reworking it for the U.S. audience. Because of that, you earned an increase of about 2,800 percent in Facebook, Twitter and email shares.

Maybe you’ll get a raise, or at least diversified story options (read: ones that are not tabloid fodder).

Still Cloroxing my mind,
Beth