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Kids Help Phone (no fancy subject line needed)

26 Aug

It’s always interesting when something totally unexpected pops up and steals your attention. This article by Andrea Gordon in yesterday’s Toronto Star about Kids Help Phone was one of those things. To be honest, I clicked on the link by accident (I actually meant to click on an article about beer. Go figure).After reading it, I decided my sloppy clicking must have happened for a reason, hence me writing this post.

For those of you that don’t know (this may be most of my American readers, unless I’m mistaken in my belief that this is a Canadian organization. I’d be happy to know that I’m wrong!) KPH is a telephone (and now also online) counselling service for youth 8-20 years of age that need someone to talk to. This incredibly admirable organization runs on donations and the fully qualified counsellors take approximately 210,000 calls a year from young people in varying degrees of distress.

I never made use of their services growing up, but looking back, I definitely should have. It was not for lack of knowing about the organization or what its purpose was; I’m fairly certain KHP has been around almost as long as I have been and to this day you find the phone number plastered across the packaging of daily consumable products aimed at kids like breakfast cereal and candy.

My reasons for never making the call were for the same misconceptions cited in Gordon’s article – I didn’t feel that my “issues” were ever important enough. I wasn’t facing abuse or molestation. I didn’t hurt myself or find myself having suicidal thoughts.

But there were times that I was unhappy and scared. I was bullied in grade school and suppressed a lot of negative feelings stemming from my parents’ divorce. I struggled with having to grow up way too fast and with constant guilt trips from my biological father. In my late teens and early 20s, when I felt like I had lost control of everything else in my life, I focused on the one thing in my life that I could control: eating. I lost both weight and years to anorexia, a battle that left more than its fair share of scar that still ache to this day. And yet I still never once thought that any of this was reason to call that hotline.

It wasn’t until my second year of university when I was finally dragging myself out of a terrible relationship that I finally realized I needed help. I only saw my therapist for two months and for the most part, all he did was listen and occasionally as a few difficult questions, but the healing was transformative. I left my final session wondering what had taken me so damn long.

It wasn’t like I didn’t have anyone to talk to. My mother has always been my rock. To this day, I tell her way more than most people probably ever dream of telling their parents. But at the time there were some things I didn’t want to tell her.

Even kids that have amazing relationships with their parents still have their own reasons for holding back. For me, it was guilt. I knew that my mom was going through a lot of shit – the divorce, being a single mom raising three kids on social services and trying to help us each through our turbulent adolescent years while trying to start her life over again. Middle Brother was going through a million phases at once and Youngest Brother was indeed young enough that she needed all the help she could get raising him.

I didn’t feel it was fair to her to pile more garbage on her plate when she was already at the end of her rope as it was.

If had understood then that KHP was also for kids like me, I would have been all over that shit.

Which is why I’m making this post now.

I know that the Kids Help Phone demographic aren’t the ones reading my blog, but I do know that I have a lot of parents or people with children in their lives that do. I know that no parent likes the thought that maybe one day their child would want or need to seek the council of someone that isn’t them. But take it from me, it happens.

KPH is safe, free and confidential. There’s no waiting for appointments or stigma and kids can call whenever they feel they need it.

I don’t even know how you would begin having this conversation but I think it would be nothing but a good thing if each kid was made to understand that, even though they can always talk to mom and dad if they have a problem, there are still other options for the times they. I would love to see this promoted in schools. I would love for more kids out there to know that they aren’t as alone as they think they are.


This bitch is back in business (miss me?)

28 Jul

I’ve been “out of the office” so to speak since last Friday and, let me tell you, it feels like a hell of a lot longer. Because so much has happened, I’ve decided to jump back into things by providing y’all with a little “The Past 5 Days in Review” post.

You’re thrilled; I can smell it from here.

1) Because I know you’re all dying to know what went down this past weekend when I went to visit my Romantically Challenged BFF, I will not keep you in suspense any longer: It wasn’t all that bad.

Sure, she abandoned me within an hour of walking through her door (after I drove four hours to see her, no less) to go have a heart-to-heart with her 21-year old ex of two days. And, yes, I did have to spend two and a half hours alone watching MTV by myself (Editor’s note: In life, I make a point of never watching MTV. This experience made me feel old and caused me undue stress as it gave me even more reason to fear for the future of humanity). But when another dear friend texted me for drinks and I called her to say “ENOUGH” she, believe it or not, totally obliged.

Yes, dear reader, she actually ENDED the conversation with her ex and CAME HOME so that she could actually SPEND TIME with me. I know this sounds like it should be a given but seriously, this was some major progress for her. AND THEN IT GOT BETTER because when she got back she APOLOGIZED for ditching me and said,

“I’ve been such a moron about all of this. Talking to him tonight made me realize just how not right for me he really it. I’m so sorry.”

And I was all, “Shit, have you been reading my blog?”

And she was like, “What blog?”

And I was all like, “NOTHING.”

Just kidding, no one’s allowed to know about this monstrosity. I to think I was actually THIS close to finally buying a wig this weekend but I wasn’t sure how to explain that one away to her. The last thing I need is for her to randomly stumble across this blog, complete with photos featuring the wig-that-could-have-been, and thinking to herself, “Something about this chick’s sloppy disguise seems awfully familiar…” (Because the detailed descriptions of her romantic tribulations couldn’t possibly give it away. HA HA OH GOD. If you’re reading this, BFF, you know that I love you).

But she did, in fact, drop the guy like a bad habit and we spent the rest of the weekend partying and having a drama-free time and it was awesome.


2) Romantically Challenged BFF may not have been reading my blog, but judging by a recent post by the Comics Curmudgeon himself, Mr. Josh Fruhlinger, has been.

Check out his genius review of a recent instalment of Mary Worth:

You might have to click to get the full impact of how truly amazing it is.

Is he right or IS HE RIGHT?

3) Speaking of previous posts and the interwebz proving points that I made in them: Remember the guy that incited the rage behind this post? Y’know, Mr. I’m-taking-an-indefinite-hiatus-from-Facebook-and-dramatically-announcing-it-to-my-totally-indifferent-friends?

Yeah, well that was Wednesday. He was back by Saturday.

Point = made.

4) When I said that I was going to pick up some postcards while I was away, clearly what I meant to say was that I was going to pick up just one. But that’s okay, because I made sure this one was EXTRA special:

It's a BEAVER, y'all!

First one to claim dibs on this rare beauty gets it.

And on that note, I know that I also said that I would be sending a bunch of cards out to you, my dear readers, on Monday. I haven’t unfortunately, and the reason for that brings us to my next point:

5) Middle Brother backed into my car.

I had maybe been home for three hours on Sunday night and just as I was crawling into bed I heard my mom shrieking at me from the bottom of the stairs. I had parked behind Middle Brother’s car, like I’ve done many times before, but he didn’t know I had come home. He works a night shift so it was already pitch black outside and, running a bit late as he was, he rushed out, jumped into his car and gunned it into reverse – right into the front of mine.

It was a pretty bad scene.

Needless to say, my mobility (and thus my ability to get to a post office) has been pretty limited this week. I think my car is going to pull through but you had better believe that this ordeal has caused all kinds of drama (ironically, not with Middle Brother in the slightest), most of which can be blamed for the fact that I’m only getting back to blogging now. On the plus side, my inability to go places has helped me to save a ridiculous amount of money that I would otherwise be wasting on junk I don’t need. And it’s only been 3 days. Good times.

I guess that’s it for now. As always, if you want to get in on this postcard business, it’s never too late to drop me a line at yesthisisjam [at] gmail [dot] com. Other than that, posts of more substance are coming soon.

P.S. Check out my wicked awesome BlissDom Canada blog badge in the side bar! How wicked is that? Oh, I’ll tell you – It’s MAPLETASTICS, bitches!

How good it feels to fret

28 Jun

I went to bed last night absolutely fuming.

For starters, I was livid from all of the reports coming from Toronto about the insane “protests” that went down over the weekend in response to the G20 Summit. While I’m still not convinced about the necessity/effectiveness of most of the protesting, it was the absolute FUCKWADS who decided that this was the perfect venue to unleash their anarchist fury on the streets of a city I love so dearly that REALLY pissed me off. They torched cop cars, smashed store windows and were just general shit disturbers that ruined it for everyone, including the peaceful folks who just wanted to be heard.

And for what?

I don’t even think most of them know. I know that most of the rest of us sure as hell don’t.

Way to prove absolutely nothing, douchwagons.

I’ve never been so humiliated as a Canadian in my life.

And on top of all of that there was the storming and tornadoes and flooding. There is still the oil in the gulf. There was bullshit refereeing in the World Cup, something that is supposed to bring the world together in a joyful way but just stood to piss people off instead. Our military lost two more soldiers, young medics, in Afghanistan. The local politicians in our riding have been fucking up big time over issues that can’t afford to be fucked up on (but, really, what else is new?).

It was just so much doom and gloom and by last night I just couldn’t deal with it anymore. I was so sick of feeling young and hopeless. I had to unplug. I had to sleep it off.

This morning, after a fitful night of sleep, I had a few moments of reprieve in that fleeting bout of amnesia that seem to linger over your memories when you first wake up. But I also had some of the brain soup aftertaste of something unpleasant and it didn’t take long for it all to come flooding back.

I brushed my teeth in a haze of bitterness.

I glared at my reflection as I did my hair.

I punched Middle Brother when he said goodbye as he left for work.

Okay, maybe I didn’t punch him.

After all, it wasn’t his fault that the world is so fucked up.

It wasn’t until I was driving in to work, turning the news off after about the third bad-news item of the morning that it slowly started to dawn on me – as bitter and upset and worried as I was, it was the first time in almost a year that I wasn’t bitter and upset and worried about my own life.

Yes, I was still fretting and fretting about things that are relatively out of my control but for once all that fretting had nothing to do with money or my family or my career.

And you know what? It kind of felt good.

It felt good to get my head out of my ass and be reminded that there is a great big world out there and that my problems, no matter how massive they are to me, are not going to be the end of the world.

Those other aforementioned problems will be.


This doesn’t change the fact that all of this scares the shit out of me. I have control issues you see – if there is a problem, I like to know that I can, if not necessarily fix it, at least help to make the situation better.

But I can’t fix any of this. I can’t fix the damage in Toronto or the human rights concerns that had so many people up in arms in the first place. I can’t control the weather or clean up the oil in the gulf. I can’t fix any of this and it fills me with anxiety.

It fills me with anxiety and leaves me feeling helpless and fearful for our future. What does the next 5, 10, 20 years hold for us? Is it all downhill from here? I don’t doubt that every generation feels like the world is ending around them. It may not help me rest any easier but it helps to know that we aren’t the first to feel that way. I guess this is all a part of being young – the perceived hopelessness, I mean.

And yet, for all of this fretting, I find myself better able to focus than I have in ages. I look at my own life and suddenly it doesn’t stress me out quite as badly as it did before. I appreciate the company of my family and friends more. I feel, at the risk of sounding like some cheesy afterschool special, like I’m part of the bigger picture again. And that feels good too.

Maybe it’s sad that it took so much devastation to get me to wake up and take a look around and stop feeling so goddamn sorry for myself (don’t get me wrong, I still feel sorry for myself, only less so. It’s a more manageable, less IN YOUR FACE self-pity. I don’t loath myself quite as much as I did before. Baby steps, people. Baby steps).

Wait, scratch that: it IS sad that this is what it took, but hopefully I can be smart enough not to let that be it. For all the faults, there are a lot of good things happening in the world too. Maybe it’s time to pop the ol’ bubble of self-absorption and start paying attention to those things.

Maybe this is also the most obvious lesson EVER, but it made me feel better so I thought I’d share.

Too fluffy for you? That’s ok. Here, have some beavers.

I do lazy SO well

25 May

Long weekend (in Canada) + my birthday = blogging be damned.

Here’s what I would have blogged about had I not opted to be lazy instead:

Va-va-voom, ladies

• Is it good or bad that I didn’t recognize these women as being “plus sized” when I first saw these photos? I like the article that I nabbed them from, but I think (no, I know) that my perceptions of body image are just so damn skewed. And maybe it’s shit like this that is to blame:

These ladies were touted by Glamour as representing “big” ladies everywhere. Maybe in the world of fashion, but in the real world? Fuck off. No wonder everyone hates themselves. I myself am not a big lass but I am still right on board with the overall opinions expressed in the comments. Eff.

• On a related note, my friend and I went bathing suit shopping this weekend. Every time we visited a store and failed it was like we were acting out a miserable tableau of the however-many steps associated with grief: We’d start of giggling and chatting through the walls of the dressing rooms then slowly get quieter until there was nothing left but devastated silence. We would meet in the halls after we were dressed, quiet and defeated. And by the time we were almost done there was no more giggling. No happiness WHATSOEVER. But we eventually emerged victorious (after THREE heartbreaking hours of self loathing). It sucks so hard that something so simple can make you feel so bad about yourself no matter how you look. I think Emily of Cupcakes and Cashmere does an excellent (and much more eloquent) job of expressing the nearly universal female sentiments of bathing suit shopping here.


• My birthday was, as to be expected, a full-on weekend affair. Three solid days to forget all about my quarter-life crisis (Editor’s note: Being as I’m not really sure how long I’m going to live and therefore can’t really pin-point what year said crisis should begin, I have dedicated the entirety of my 20s to it. Fun!) Of course, that having been said, there was a bit of angst when my boyfriend dropped the ball on what was supposed to be an epic long weekend away to some place cool. He managed to redeem himself in such a way that downgraded my “*insert your choice of expletives here*” epic disappointment to “you hapless sod” eye-rolling over dinner and sexy times (what?) BUT WE ARE STILL GOING TO SOME PLACE COOL, DAMMIT.

Also, two of my best lady friends came home from their respective big city lives and helped me celebrate with copious amounts of adult beverages by the pool and one hilariously misspelled cake.

• I feel like a royal tool for not realizing that one of my favouritested-not-real-bands, Gorillaz, released a new album back in March and I’m just realizing it NOW. Epic fanfail.

• Finally, I started to get myself on Twitter so I can assault the interwebz from multiple mediums but do you THINK I could find a suitable username? And what pisses me off the most is that “almostmaybe” was TOTALLY available when I first thought about signing up back when I launched the blog but I didn’t snag it and now some KID has gone and changed her pre-existing name and STOLEN IT (do you think I can convince her to change it again or would that just be bullying?).

Honestly, all the good shit is taken: almost_maybe (and I HATE underscrores so that’s saying something), jam, thisisjam, jamtastic, jamzilla – and half of these people barely use their accounts! RAGE.

Aggravated, I then just started trying out random expressions of my rage and even they were taken, again by people who “wtf don’t get it”

I laughed so hard. And then I died a little.

Eventually I just gave up and I settled on @yesthisisjam because I hate the idea of @_almostmaybe or even having to use the same lame-ass handle as what used to be my e-mail address, @almostmaybejam (GROAN).

So, HUZAAH! Let us be Twitter buddies! Also, you can now e-mail me at yesthisisjam @ gmail . com.


The tao of Bristol – Yours for $30,000. No, really.

19 May

In case you missed it, word broke yesterday that Bristol Palin, teen-mama and daughter of former Alaska governor, Sarah Palin, has decided to hit the speaker’s circuit. For a mere $15,000 – $30,000 (USD) the 19-year old will share her pearls of wisdom regarding life as a teenage mother and reflect upon her sexual indiscretion, not to mention share her opinions of teen sexuality and her stance on the “pro-life” debate.

Are Britol's pearls of wisdom worth $30.000 a pop?

In the spirit of full disclosure, I don’t really care for the Palin family. Still, in the spirit of also not turning this post into some sort of personal witch-burning, I’m going to try to be diplomatic about this as possible.

I do not judge Bristol Palin for getting pregnant at such a young age and I think she is, to a certain extent, brave in her choice to keep the baby. Remember my rant about taking responsibility for your actions?

But as much as Bristol is taking a step in the right direction, she still falls short of getting an A for her efforts in my books.

If absolutely nothing else, Bristol is speaking from experience, and it’s an experience that young women everywhere can really learn a thing or two from. Premature motherhood is fucking scary, no matter who you are or where you come from. This is an issue that so many young women face, whether they too are/have been teen mothers or are simply concerned about teen pregnancy in general. Being a young woman herself and speaking from her own experience makes her relatable and, let’s face it, it is always better to hear someone speak from experience than to listen to some blow-hard advocate preaching poorly informed opinions from a soapbox.

But is it worth paying up to $30,000 to hear? You may as well save your money and pop in Juno or watch a marathon of 16 and Pregnant. Her story is one that young women can only benefit from hearing but charging that kind of money does not make in accessible in the least. And seriously, what kind of message does that send? Irresponsibility = lucrative, money-making speaking gig? Yeah, she learned her lesson alright.

Also, let’s take into account that Bristol has never had to worry about being disowned by her family or having to struggle financially to bring up baby Tripp. Yes, her ordeal was painfully public. Yes, Levi Johnson is an epic tool. But all in all, as far as teen pregnancy goes, the little lady has it pretty good. Her experience is relatable only in its most basic of elements: she got knocked up as a teenager. The majority of young moms don’t have the luxury of having a powerful and wealthy family that will help lessen the burdens that an unexpected child can bring. It’s all well and good for her to flaunt her decision to keep her baby, but how realistic is her situation?

Probably the biggest point of contention for me is the focus on abstinence as the answer. I recognize that Bristol isn’t the type of gal who doesn’t believe in safe sex at all and she isn’t mistaken in the fact that one simply cannot have a baby if they aren’t banging in the first place. But pushing abstinence as the be-all-end-all of answers to teen pregnancy just seems too naïve for me, especially when it’s coming from someone who’s been there.

If you, as an individual, choose to wait until you’re married, then all the power to you. Of course, I’d feel a lot better about the method if I believed that the majority of people did it because they truly believed in waiting and less because other people had convinced them it was the “right” thing to do. Because, the thing we need to remember is that sex (the act and the culture) is a very important part of being human. It’s not some deviant and shameful thing but a very natural and powerful instinct, and no amount of preaching by parents, advocates or religious and political leaders is going to change that (not to mention that the majority of those people haven’t practiced what they’ve preached anyway).

Wanting young people to be safe and make good choices about sexuality is great. Demonizing sexual behaviour and not properly educating them about it is not. I hate to get all Rachel Berry on you here, but the fact is, you can’t just tell people “don’t do it” when that’s what they’re hardwired to do and expect things to end well.

Glee, episode 2 – Showmance:
Rachel: The only way to deal with teen sexuality is to be prepared. That’s what contraception is for.
Quinn: Don’t you dare mention the C-word!

Because, in the majority of case, what happens? Hormones happen, that’s what. And then what happens if young people aren’t educated on sexuality and made to feel ashamed about it? Sometimes, babies. Or disease. Maybe even a little discrimination or low-self esteem or abuse while we’re at it. The cold hard truth is that sex happens. Preparing young people for it instead of locking the topic in the attic like some unwanted step-child will help them make informed choices and help avoid a whole lot of regret. Bristol Palin = case in point (after all, practicing safe sex “most of the time” doesn’t seem well informed at all. Accidents happen but choosing to take risks is what it is).

Bristol is more than entitled to her opinions on this matter and I can’t hold that against her. I’m a little worried about how much of this is, in fact, her own opinion and how much of it is related to mommy-dearest’s reputation but again, let’s give her the benefit of the doubt here. But I honestly believe that she won’t be doing her peers any favours if she opts to regurgitate archaic beliefs and misinformed ideologies. Ultimately, your $30,000 is better spent on proper educational programs and resources anyway.

Now, who’s down for some Juno? I’ll bring the popcorn.

Adventures in eavesdropping

18 May

So, I’m sitting in a cafe, doing what it is that hip young people do in hip young(?) cafes and these three ladies sit down at the table next to me.

From the looks of things, they seem to be three generations of women from the same family – Grandma, Mama and Daughter. They seem tight I guess, I’m sure they’re nice.

Now, something you need to know about me now is that I am a shameless eavesdropper. Are you really having this conversation in public? Well then you’d better believe I’m listening. I’d apologize but, like I said, shameless.

Daughter looks to be a bit older than me but I’ve never been a good judge of those kinds of things so really, I might just be full of shit. She is also, as my cunning eavesdropping has deducted, in the midst of a significant personal crisis. Mama and Grandma seem to have brought her here to stage a bit of an intervention.

It’s not sex, drugs, or even, I’m sad to say, rock n’ roll that seem to be this young lady’s problem – it’s really just life. She bought a house before she was ready and without job security, she’s maxed out her credit cards and is swimming in debt and, from what I can glean without being too obvious, got involved with a man that left her high and dry. Oh, and it sounds like she’s in total denial about just how bad her situation is. Eeek.

My first reaction when I realized what was going on was “Fuck, this is AWKWARD”. Nothing like calling out all of a person’s poor choices right there in public. Like, every so often it sounds like she’s weeping and I’m all REALLY? Devastating.

But the more I listen in the more I can appreciate what Mama and Grandma are doing. Yeah, this might not be the best place but then again maybe it’s perfect – after all, she’s not going to blow up and start screaming in a crowded cafe, right? (Oh god, please don’t blow up and start screaming).

As much as Daughter is resisting, Mama and Grandma are really laying on the tough love. She might not like it right now, but it sounds like this girl really needs a couple of kind souls in her corner right now. She’s lucky to have them, I hope she lets them help her.

Remember when my boss told me I needed to get some perspective? Yeah. Yikes. Thanks cosmic forces, I’m picking up what you’re laying down, thanks.

Today’s blog post has been brought to you by: Other people’s poor choices

17 May


Sometimes, life has them. Maybe not on purpose, but there certainly are days that feel like they’ve been scripted by the good people that bring us Glee every week – slamming morals and over-arching elements down our throats until we bleed inspirational quotes like those damned motivational posters.

Graphic, I know.

If today had a theme I believe it would have something to do with, at least according to some of the stories gracing today’s Toronto Star, owning up to and taking responsibility for your mistakes. There’s probably something a little more streamlined to be gleaned from all this but I don’t have the time nor the mental capacity to hammer out the finer details on a Monday.

So, dear reader, without further adieu, I give you: The Path to Deliverance According to the Toronto Star, May 17th 2010 Edition (a.k.a. What You Should and Should Not Do When You Fuck Up Big Time).

Headline #1: Robert Munsch admits cocaine, alcohol addiction

No, I'll love YOU forever, Robert Munsch


I grew up on Robert Munsch books – they were a staple in every elementary school classroom and are the foundation for many fond childhood memories (I attribute a lot of my no-nonsense ball-busting to the lessons learned from “The Paper Bag Princess” and “Love You Forever” pretty much taught me how to feel. Only one of those statements is completely accurate but both books HAVE had significant impacts on my life.). So, perhaps I’m a bit biased. I find Munsch’s fall from grace far more touching than that of, say, Steven Page, formerly of Barenaked Ladies (and that IS saying something. I loves me some BNL.).

There’s the obvious tugging of the heartstrings – a childhood hero, who lived his life constructing fabulous stories for children around the world to enjoy has it all taken from him in one fell swoop, by no fault of his own. The article implies that the substance abuse was the result of the stroke that robbed him of his ability to create, and while that certainly doesn’t excuse it, it does at least provide some perspective.

Still! you might find yourself shouting, The man writes kids books! FOR KIDS! Yeah well, Eddie Murphy also got caught with a prostitute back in ’97, but does that stop you from letting your kids contribute to the bastardization of the Shrek franchise? No, of course not, so take it easy.

What is admirable in all of this is the fact that he is facing his demons head-on. His family and friends have been both aware of his situation and are helping him through it, and he has issued a message to the parents of his young fans that is up-front and honest. He didn’t wait for this to blow up in his face. And? He has turned this whole situation into a learning experience, stating that he hopes “everyone will talk to their kids honestly, listen to them, and help them do their best with their own challenges.”

Bonus points, Munsch. I wish you the best.

Headline #2:Toronto woman sues Rogers after her affair is exposed

When will we learn not to trust Rogers with our extramarital affairs? God damn!

Guys, I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.

So this lady was banging some other dude and her husband found out when Rogers (her phone company, for all of my Yankee readers) decided to combine her cell phone bill (which was under her maiden name) with the family cable bill (which was under the husband’s name). Hubby noticed a number of long-ass phone calls to one number in particular, put two and two together and the rest, like their marriage, is history.

There is SO much wrong with this story. As a Rogers-hating hoard member, I am totally onboard with the belief that the company had no business combining the bills, especially without consent (whether they were under different last names or not). But, this IS Rogers we’re talking about, so I’m also not even sort of surprised.

But that’s not even the worst part of the story. Nor is, in my opinion, the fact that she was cheating on her husband (although for the record, this is not a round-about way of saying I condone it. Y’know, before y’all go burning me at the stake and such.)

What bothers me the MOST about this story is how her response to the fall out is to place the blame on THE PHONE COMPANY.

Because, y’know, Rogers totally held her at gun-point and forced her canoodle with a man who wasn’t her husband, risking her family and way of life and all that jazz.


To quote our damsel in distress in reference to the affair: “It was a mistake, but I didn’t deserve to lose my life over it.”

I’ll let you, dear reader, be the judge of that.

Trying to make sure Rogers gets their privacy concerns in check is one thing, but is suing them going to bring back her family? Nope. Is Rogers the reason her husband left her? Again, no – they may have exacerbated the situation but at the end of the day, no matter how the truth wound up coming out (and considering the juvenile reaction of the other man when she finally broke it off, it would have) it would have ended the same way. She needs to really own her part in all of this if she ever hopes to get on with her life.

So there you have it – two real life stories of taking responsibility (or not) for poor choices, and my unapologetic opinions of both.

What do you think? Am I being too harsh on our lady-about-town? Does our friend, Mr. Munsch, deserve to get off that easy? Do you agree with my rambles or do you think I’m full of shit? Let it all out, you know you wanna.