So She Laughed Anyway

By: Jana Greene

This seems to be a pretty unforgiving generation, y’all. I didn’t write this post to jump down the throats of Millennials – some of them are my very favorite people, including my daughters. They are amazing human beings. I don’t want to lump ALL people of a certain generation together, and honestly anyone can find themselves “woke,” and that’s a GOOD thing! I myself have woken up to a ton of considerations I never thought I would. “Woke” should have positive connotations!

But out culture today seems to believe that if a person makes a mistake in life, they deserve to be tarred and feathered in a skinny minute. If you use your “wokeness” to feel superior to others, it kind of loses it’s shine.

Without any grace for others, their own glass houses cannot stand. And without allowing people to be human, they are ascribing a standard that they themselves cannot possibly always reach.

For instance, It’s OK to bitch about the Boomers and Gen X’ers, but you best be tolerant about every other possible demographic.

It’s true that people should WANT to better themselves and strive to do so. But a lot of people don’t and never will. These people cannot be forced, legislated, or shamed into doing the right thing. So when you return hate for hate, you are simply….hating. It’s not “special” hate or “justified” hate. It’s just your garden variety manifestation of anger.

In this age of social media, there are witch hunts abounding, pitchforks raised and torches ablaze. True, a lot of people shoot themselves in the foot with what they post. And let’s just get this out of the way:

YES. NAZIS ARE TERRIBLE. THE HOLOCAUST WAS AN ABOMINATION. WE SHOULD NEVER, EVER FORGET. RACISTS SUCK, AND WOMEN ARE EQUAL TO MEN, AND NOBODY SHOULD BE OSTRACIZED FOR THEIR SEXUALITY. I HOLD THESE TRUTHS TO BE SELF-EVIDENT.

But not everything you disagree with is a HOLOCAUST or neo-nazi-level offense. And some of ya’ll actin’ like all offenses are the SAME.

The famous comedian who was flirtatious with women (*GASP*)) in his younger years is NOT equal to the skinhead who reads Mein Kamph in his leisure time and believes in killing people of a different race or culture. But you’d think it was, such is the backlash against him.

Maybe it’s just that I’m cantankerous today, but is flirting actually harassment if it is “unwelcome” but perfectly fine if it’s reciprocated? I’d really like to know.

I’m not talking about actual harassment (or God forbid, assault!) which should NEVER be acceptable. I’m talking about the hyper vigilant nit-picking we do to one another and the swift retribution with which someone’s character can be assassinated without so much as a single fact, and without a single ounce of grace.

I’m talking about villainizing your elderly aunt because she hugged your child at Christmas without her “consent.” (“How COULD you? That’s HER body!”)

I’m talking about the celebrity who says something mildly out of hand that gets blown into epic proportions and everything he ever said about anything goes viral and “he will never work in this town again!”

I’m talking about being thrown out of someone’s life because you forgot to use the right pronoun and consider themselves non-binary. (This actually happens, and it’s the reason “special snowflake” has become a misnomer.) If your anger level over accidentally being referred to as “she” sends you into warp speed offense and fury, check yourself before you wreck yourself (and your friends and family who love you.)

It’s almost like we have an upcoming generation policing the world. Policing the famous and the infamous. Policing me. Policing you. Policing, policing, and not a single one of us has all our shit together.

For a demographic that talks about the Salem Witch Trials with aghast glee and solemn scorn, they sure so burn a lot of “witches.”

And “witches,” however you define one, have the unalienable right to be just that. This is ‘Murica, where you can say pretty much whatever you want. And it SHOULD be that way, no matter how much of a dummy someone is. All this trying to control what other people say and do is wasted energy and a little disturbing. If you want to be a jerk in this country, knock yourself out. But if you insist everyone think like you, I find that far more chilling than the actual garbage people spew from their mouths and type with their fingers.

Here’s the thing about offense: IT IS NOT EVERYONE ELSE’S RESPONSIBILITY to protect you from your own delicate sensibilities.

Like, I promise it’s not.

It’s not in the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, or even in your you HOA guidelines!

Jerks are kind of a self-regulating thing. People who are assholes pretty much get bit the ass by Karma without you even having to raise a finger! It’s true. They don’t need your banishment.

You can only live your best life and be kind to ALL. Yes, I said to ALL. Because people mess up and are always, ALWAYS redeemable, and it’s not your job to tie them to the stake. I’m an old fart-tress and have been around the block. Trust me on this.

Why people be power-trippin’ over how deep in the mud they can drag another human being? Trust me, youths of the world: If you haven’t committed what society (which is always changing) considers a cardinal sin – honey, you will. And I hope greater grace is shown you.

And yes, I called you “honey” with absolutely zero malice and a hint of affection. But not harassment. Nosiree, definitely not that.

In closing, I’d like to remind everyone to do unto others as you would have done unto you. Too biblical for you, and ergo, offensive?

How about we read the words of Dr. Martin Luther King:

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

* Footnote: You are probably doing something right now that your children and the generations beyond will find completely unacceptable. Crazy, right? But true.

By: Jana Greene

Disclaimer: This piece is going to piss some people off, mainly because we have gotten to a point in society where different viewpoints are automatically considered to be Salem witch hunt caliber offenses. (Wait, I just used the work “caliber.” *Waits for anti-gun advocates to start boiling the oil in preparation for my demise.*)

You may not agree, and that’s okay. Please remember that this is, in fact, a BLOG, and as such, opinions are expressed! Seems a foregone conclusion, but you’d be surprised…All I can do is speak for myself.

I feel like I have to have that *disclaimer* every time I write anything anymore, which is sad because if you write something, I believe it to be IMPLIED that it’s your p.o.v.

First of all, Women are amazing. We are flippin’ AMAZING.

They are often equal parts fierce-natured and full of softness of spirit, and how exactly did recognizing that become offensive?

Femininity is powerful. We don’t need to be strident and militant to be freaking STRONG. The womanly combination of steely strength and soft-heartedness is what frankly makes he world go round.

As a strong woman confident in her ability and identity and femininity, I find the “smash the patriarchy” movement slightly embarrassing.

Nobody can tell me exactly what’s up with the stridency of this “new feminism.” I get a hodge-podge of ‘equal rights’ or ‘reproductive freedom.’ Vague, generalized discontent and furious anger for rights that they already have. Go sit amongst your sisters in Pakistan for a spell, and then come back and march.

I’ve overcome a LOT in my life. A whole lot. But I am no victim. From one perspective, much of it basically comes down to a huge victim movement.

Oh, hell no. Don’t go associating all feminists with this radicalized faction.

You can dress up as a giant vagina (Google it. Or don’t…) all day long and that proves what? Who are you empowering? I mean, besides vagina costume makers?

Feminism is not a new thing. I grew up in the ’70’s. Old farts and fartresses can spin you a yarn about inequality.

Is there still inequality? Yes. Will wearing a vagina suit and screaming in people’s faces make equality suddenly become a reality across the board? No.

It will make you look like the men that talk about / act like / are referred to by THIER genitals. Let’s all agree that associating oneself with their lady or man parts is only drawing attention to the fact that all God’s chirren got private parts. Which we already knew.

Human beings are so much more than that.

Everyone has obstacles; even men! It’s part of the human condition.

For a period of my own life, I was a single mom working 4 jobs to feed my children with NO support or other help. I worked my ass off and got through it.

Through some miracle tantamount to the Red Sea parting, I made it with sobriety intact. I had neither the time nor the inclination to march and be angry with the patriarchy, because a sister had things to DO.

The truth that many people refuse to see is that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. You don’t convince the world that you are woman (hear-you-roar….look it up, also from the ’70’s) by gathering in the millions and yelling at he world that you feel has victimized you.

You do it by doing all the things we DO and freaking ROCKING them. Work to change laws. Lobby, if you like.Do what you need to do, girl. But must your cause be so full of bitterness and vitriol?

You can not shame people into changing their minds on what you consider a human rights violation (human rights has become a ridiculously muddy term.)

You change minds by living out your strength every day, going after your dreams like a bulldog, and showing the world what you are made of (ps – it’s not sugar, and spice, and everything nice – it’s STRENGTH) and you change hearts by living out your soft compassion for others – lo, even those you rally against.

The kindness and nurturing? Yeah, those make the world go around too.

I had nothing handed to me, but neither did I feel ‘woe is me’ when things didn’t go my way (which happened a lot, but not because I’m female. Sometimes life is unfair and sucks.)

I also raised two extremely strong women, many times all in my own. Women who would (and have) marched, and I would not want to deny them the right to do so. To each her own, as they say. Ain’t no shame in marching. When you scream hysterically to news agencies from said marches, honey…no. You can’t convince the world with hysteria. Take it from an old broad.

But I would like to tell the citizenry of this good world this – not all women feel victimized. Not all FEMINISTS feel victimized.

And not all feminists hate men. I ADORE my husband, who just happens to be a white male (gasp!) and is the finest human being I’ve ever known. When he married me, he took on raising 2 additional teen girls in addition to his own daughter. Bravest man I know, helping give 3 strong-willed daughters good lives, and we are both flummoxed at why his gender/race is now the butt of so many jokes. Talk about intolerance!

Men are not the problem; small-minded people are the problem. Are some of these small-minded people men? Of course. But making BROAD, SWEEPING GENERALIZATIONS about any one people group is, um…small-minded.

Thanks for letting me share these thoughts. I know some will close their minds before they read past the title, but can we at least try to understand the points of view of others with open-mindedness?

I dream of a world where human beings are loved by other human beings without nastiness being necessary to assert their views.

You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.

By: Jana Greene

I had a good hair day last week. A really good hair day. I took it down from its obligatory summer messy bun (think more Ms. Truchbull from the movie “Matilda” than Lady Gaga) and it just so happened to fall in cascades, wavy from the elastic band that had been strangling it for an embarrassing three days in a row.

At first, I didn’t know what to do with myself. It was a bed-bound day, as many of mine are. I have a connective tissue disorder that causes progressive and chronic pain. I wasn’t leaving the house that day. Naturally, I shared it with the audience I had on hand.

So I say to my three cats, “LOOK at my HAIR!” Two of whom didn’t even bother to wake up (bastards!) but I think the one who was awake admired it a bit. Or was sending me subliminal messages to feed her early. Not sure which.

Then I pulled out my phone and took a selfie to record the event of the Good Hair Day, as I have them with about the same frequency as a lunar eclipse.

And after I snapped a pic, I felt silly. Like, REALLY silly.

I had a flashback to when I was a kid and was riding in the passenger seat. I was about 12, and the person driving – a very influential lady in my life – sneered at me when I pulled down the mirror on the visor to check my hairdo. “Oh, I guess you think you look pretty cute,” she said in a mean tone. I remember my face burning with shame.

My face burned with shame a lot when I was a child, because I really, really wanted to be a good girl and not be “full of myself.”  Being “full of yourself” was a very bad thing, especially in the eyes of God.

Whether by the opinions of others or my own self-flagellation, this creed followed me around: Tone down EVERYTHING.

Tone down your crazy sense of humor. Tone down your expectations. Tone down your confidence, if you had any. Tone down your opinions. Just tone it down, for the greater good.

So the first 40 years of my life I spent trying to tone it down. For many of those years, I used alcohol as the agent to accomplish this. But in 2001, I got sober and something had to give. The journey of self-discovery started in earnest then. It is still in progress.

I give this backstory to segue into a synopsis of self-actualization. Although certainly not all women experience the same things, I believe society at large tends to send us mixed messages, and it starts when we are very young.

As little girls, we are told not to be haughty when we feel cute.

When we are perceived as haughty, we are told to rein in thinking too much of ourselves, lest we actually believe we are acceptable. So we become full of (fill-in-the-blank) instead. It’s easier for other people to digest our existence unmanageable, small bites, lest we be too much for some.

We laugh to cope, and are told we aren’t taking life seriously enough.

We allow ourselves to face our depression and anxiety head-on, only to be reminded to “smile” endlessly, because we’re prettier that way.

We are told to believe we are beautiful just as we are, then we grow up to feel compelled to shave our eyebrows of and paint them on halfway up our foreheads, for crying out loud.

We are told that bodies come in all shapes and sizes, yet are often assumed to be lazy or practice poor self discipline if we don’t have the “perfect” physique.

Articles in the same women’s magazine extol the virtue of loving ourselves as we age, followed by tips to look 10 years younger just a few pages further.

We cry, only to be told as little girls that we’ll be given “something to cry about” if we don’t stop.

We are pounded with the idea that God loves us, only to be told that we’d damn skippy better get it together, lest we be punished. We live our lives under the oppressive weight of his so-called expectations; leaving us no other conclusion but that we are inherently bad.

We are encouraged to go after what makes our hearts happy, but we seldom have any idea what exactly that is. We haven’t taken the time to learn what we love.

When we do discover what we love, we often set it aside as silly or frivolous, as it may not benefit others.

We are taught that “no” is a complete sentence, but often feel shamed when we employ it.

We scrimp on self-care, because what about the needs of everyone else? There is often nothing left of ourselves to give to ourselves.

We are told the opinions of others do not define us, only to let those opinions of others become our very identities, if we are not careful.

We are told to break free of the expectations of our ancestors, but inside we really just want to please our mothers.

We are told we are strong and powerful, while being reminded this is still “a man’s world.”

Oy vey, so many paradoxes are a part of every woman’s life!

I guess I’m trying to say YOU ARE OKAY. You are actually far better than “okay,” because so long as you use your big personality and desires for good instead of evil, it’s perfectly okay to love yourself. Oh my God, just LOOK at you, Lady! You’re a masterpiece whose energies make the world a better place.

No shame necessary.

So, take that selfie. You’re awfully cute!

Be silly on purpose.

Talk to God. He’s not mad at you!

Cry if you need to.

Laugh TONS.

Say NO. And say YES to yourself, you gorgeous creature.

And about that self care? Indulge yourself with a bubble bath. Read that awesome book. Eat three square meals a day. All the lovely little things you’ve been doing for everyone else all these years?

Do them for YOU!

(Oh, but don’t expect your cats to appreciate your efforts…)

God bless, sweet, strong, and sassy sisters. ❤

By: Jana Greene

Well, well, well….if it isn’t the day I’ve been dreading for decades – the colonoscopy.

Were it not for one of my dearest friends’s 30 year old son getting an aggressive form of colorectal cancer, I’m not sure Id have the balls to go through with the colonoscopy.

Now, that being said, there is 100% NOTHING funny about colon cancer, but there’s a lot to the procedure that IS, in fact, pretty damn funny.

So if you’re turning 50! Congratulations, you are now required to take a garden hose up the butt once every 10 years – or, if you are like me and f*cked up the entire prepping process – you may be lucky enough to need another one in just ONE year! (My butthole just involuntarily sunk about two inches up into my body, when it heard that news. I may never find it again, what with its ifeeble attempt to hide from the inevitable.) “You’d better man up,” say I to my asshole. “Stop being such a drama queen.”

What to expect when you are expecting to have your old dirt road explored by some man in a white lab coat and suspiciously chipper attitude. I guarantee you, if I had to look up butts all day, I’d plotz.

So a few days before the “prep” ( I guess “prep” sounds better than “having you drink mass quantities of what I’m pretty sure is the urine of satan…) Your prep will start off well enough. “I can drink Gatorade!” You think, full of hope and determination. Ok, next, take four Dulcolax. Wash THAT down with more Gatorade. Now mix AN ENTIRE 238 g bottle I to yet more Gatorade. Stir for what seems like 45 minutes. Next, slap your ass on the toilet because this is your new HOME for the foreseeable future.

I have never puked so hard in my life. Projectile vomited every last drop of that damn half GALLON of mirilax Gatorade. I threw up for hours, which means it never even made it down to the necessary bits. Oh wells no problem, because there is this abomination called “mag citrate,” and it solely exists to make you wish you were never born. It’s some kind of formula containing apparent jet fuel (you’ll figure you this out later…)battery acid, a fair amount of TNT, and “grape.” Yes, on the label it has a darling little illustration of s tiny bunch of purple grapes. I assume the nasty stuff is SUPPOSED to be grape-flavored, but still tasted like jet fuel. I DID make it to the toilet in time; but which was also mondo gross because it’s the same toilet aid been, um…”emptying my bowels” in all night, which made me puke even harder.

At some point, I remember telling my husband that I’d come up with a new slogan for colonoscopies…..”But WAIT! There’s MORE!”

THERE IS ALWAYS MORE. Holy shit, you think you are a mere shell of a person when in a split second your butt has decided to share its contents without any notice at all. It just shows up like your Great-Aunt Clara or something.

Some things that are NECESSARY to facilitate your best colonoscopy experience. (Wank, wank. There IS no best experience.

Aside from making sure you have at least 10 ounces of satan’s urine, 300 bottles of Gatorade, and a pile of Miralax so enormous, it looks like you’re expecting Cokehead Larry from down the street over any minute; it’s time to show your butthole the extra attention it so deeply (and I mean DEEPLY deserves. At first, standard baby wipes will do to gently clean yourself, but by the time it’s all said and done, you will not want anyone even coming NEAR you with so much as a feather. Get. that. Shit. Away. From. Me.

So finally it’s time to do this thing. The Thing ain’t bad at all – I took a rather refreshing nap when I was under.all of the doctors and staff were amazing, although when the proctologist bright pictures from he procedure to show Bob and so, I really could have done without the graphic rectal photos being shown to bob. WHERE IS THE MYSTERY?! At any rate, the doctor points out that my “cleanse” want clean enough and they could only see 80% of my colon so I need to have it redone in A$&£#% YEAR.

Apparently when I barfed so hard all night, the miralax never got to my intestines, this rendering my painful, embarrassing prep inadequate. Next time they are giving me an anti nausea so I can complete the prep properly.

So this is why I implore you, friends, old farts, countrymen….make sure your prep is top-notch. Also, please try not to stare because I am currently walking as though a corncob is up my butt. Please and thank you!

Silver lining? I lost five lbs today. TODAY.

Oh, and I had a nurse who was a riot, cracking (see what I did there?) jokes like, “The bathroom is back in the rear,” she said. “No pun intended!” Guurrrrl, we both know you intended that pun. Own it.