wasting.time.

I exaggerate a lot. Like, pretty much every single hour of the day I come up with some new way to inflate what’s happening to me. But I shit you not, today, my husband and I sat in a doctor’s office for 2.5 hours without seeing an actual doctor. I’ve been to an OB/GYN appointment where the gynecologist left her office to go to a hospital and deliver another human life and take care of its mother, and come back to the office in less time than we sat in this office tonight.

(Just to let you know, no one is dying or anything. Sometimes when a person engages in risky-type exercise, say like, grappling and kicking and punching and such, they tear shit up within their body that shouldn’t get torn up and so they have to go to surgical consults. But everything is fine.)

So what do you do when you are stuck in a waiting and/or exam room with your significant other for prolonged, monotonous amounts of time?

Well, I tried to draw some wonderful art that apparently, according to said significant other, is ¬†“not appropriate” to post on the blogosphere. So instead you get to see my picture I started drawing of the husband:

MikeSmiley

See the gloriousness of his one eyebrow? He got mad about how gigantic his mouth was, so he took my notebook and decided to draw me.

Annnd… this was the result:

lightbulbbecca

Okay so neither of us should quit our day jobs…

Anyway, I’m sorry for this boring blog post. It would’ve been much more fun if my other renderings had passed inspection.

privilege.period.

White privilege is:

  1. Being able to smart off to a cop during a shady traffic stop without fearing repercussions.
  2. Telling a cop to wait a second, then rummaging around in your glove box, purse, backseat, pocket, for your license and registration without being shot because it looks like you’re going for a gun
  3. Watching all of your black co-workers get ticketed in front of work for minor offenses and you being able to talk your way out of it even when you’re in the wrong
  4. Not having to worry that one day, one of your kids will be shot for some insignificant reason. Something that doesn’t even matter, something that no one should ever be shot over.
  5. Trying to explain to your white kids that you’re crying because you fear for their friends, but not for them personally. Because¬†you’re already trying to figure out the best way to teach them how the “system” is going to treat the kids they grew up with, the kids they love. And there’s no way to do it without just breaking down and crying.
  6. Knowing you don’t have to make a blog post about this at all and everyone would understand. But doing it anyway because you’re fucking sick of it.