That Georgia Waitress Is My Hero

On two separate occasions in the last two years I’ve been violated by men who clearly felt entitled to me and my body. Me. Fucking. Too. I won’t get into too much detail in regards to the first time it happened, because I don’t have to. All I’ll say is that a grotesque gesture, and a joke was made at my expense, in front of a group of men, in an environment that was supposed to be in my favor.

The other instance? Feel free to read all about it.

explicitlanguage someone grabbed my

And then that video went viral of that waitress in Georgia who body slammed a man for grabbing her tush… and she’s my fucking hero.

H.E.R.O.

Don’t get me started on her work uniform or her choice of career, honestly, fuck you if you even bring it up. She did what any woman in her position wished they could do themselves.

When I talk about my experiences the question I get everytime is, in some way, did you stick up for yourself? No. I didn’t. Both times, I froze. I did nothing in the moment other than stare wide eyed in disbelief. I hate that. As much as I wish I would have body slammed them, or made a scene exposing their nasty entitlement, I know that’s not the norm.

With that being said, the next time some guy wants to rub his dick on me, or grab my lady parts, I have a plan…and it includes more than just a verbal lashing.

Don’t touch people if they don’t want to be touched. Don’t assume a stranger will welcome your advances. Don’t allow acquaintances to over step their boundaries. Speak up, use your voice, or just body slam those bitches.

Georgia waitress, I love you. I’m also super awesome and we can be friends if you want. Totally up to you though.

Married White Female, Looking for a Healthy Debate

Our world today allows us to create our own skewed version of reality. Social media, every single day, throwing anything and everything that we already agree with in our faces, and news feeds making us feel superior and right. How can I be wrong? I’ve been blasted by twenty-two articles in a span of ten minutes showing my opinions as fact at this point.

I put myself into check sometimes with reminders that this also applies to me. It’s not easy to keep an open mind and truly listen to ideas that push against what has been smothering you since Facebook and other social media outlets started targeting their audiences with sponsored content. Your entire social media existence is warped, and that’s why we feel so strongly about issues – it’s being fed to us on a silver platter. Sure, it’s warped to your liking – but that’s the problem.

Healthy debate is a treat nowadays. I have a hard time finding a person with opposing viewpoints to have a sensible conversation with; to explain, in a normal tone of voice, why they feel a certain way and then allowing me to do the same. Believe it or not, when I express myself, I enjoy a (respectful) contradictory remark. I cross my fingers and hope that this person hasn’t been bitten by the social media bug. That maybe, just maybe, a respectable, low-key exchange of opinions is possible.

The vast majority of humans who utilize social media would rather pump their fists and bang their chests, knowing that you won’t jump on their bandwagon. The opposing viewpoint does not matter, whoever says theirs the loudest wins – and they still hate each other.

We used to debate, we used to try to be open-minded to differing opinions. Not anymore, because we don’t even care enough to educate ourselves, let alone other people. It’s too easy. Fake news is real news, and real news doesn’t stand a chance. The speed at which information gets relayed to and from is faster than we, as a world, can keep up with… and that will be our demise.

It used to be common conversation to imply that everyone was entitled to their own opinion without pure madness erupting. That was fun. Suddenly, no one is listening. No one is interested as to why their neighbor voted the way they did, why they are choosing to not vaccinate their children, why they are for, or against gun reform. Instead of instantly judging, if we could take the time to just ask, why. 

We would be in such a better place if healthy debates were still a common occurrence. Whether you’re Republican, Democrat, Independent, white, black, Mexican, Catholic, Atheist, young, old – this reality we live in affects us all in a range of different ways, but here we are.

Next time you’re in a position to have a real conversation with someone who doesn’t look at the world the same way you do, take it and embrace it. Listen to what is being said and respect that even if our ideas are polar opposites that we’re still human beings, coexisting.

I’m not going to let that bother me.

There we were, my husband and I, both trying to get that ever-so-important final word in. I can’t even tell you what we were bickering about, but I’m positive that it was something dumb – bickering is always for something dumb. If it was of any importance, it certainly would have escalated into an actual argument and I’d know exactly what it was pertaining to…and why I was right and my husband was wrong.

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Yeah, okay…whatever you say.

Good.

Fine.

Seriously! I just tried to end this.

Whatever.

After all that, an exceptional statement came out of my mouth:

I’m not going to let that bother me.

Brandin just looked back at me and I watched a smirk grow on his face, and that was that.

Okay, okay…I admit, I fully intended for that statement to be snide; one more little jab. I was legit surprised when I realized I actually felt better, and not a VICTORY-IS-MINE sorta better, it was as if I had literally just chucked that bicker-fest out the window.

 

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See ya later, bye.

 

What was supposed to be a disparaging remark, turned into quite the opposite. Give it a whirl, and not only when squabbling. For instance:

  • Oh, the jerk in the fancy car just cut me off? I’m not going to let that bother me.
  • Interesting… You canceled plans with me because you have a headache – and you were just tagged on Facebook at Applebee’s? I’m not going to let that bother me.
  • My dog that was just outside for 20 minutes but still crapped on the floor. I’m not going to let that bother me.

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There is really something to this, I promise. I’m no head-doctor and I’m certainly not an expert in staying calm (ask my husband) but hearing those words, they’ve helped digest  situations and from there, there’s a choice. Is it worth the negative feelings? More often than not, I’d rather just stay in a good mood.

 

I love Marshawn Lynch, and I don’t care who knows.

He’s not everyone’s cup of tea, I get it. He’s stubborn, hot-headed, and to be frank – he gives no fucks. I can’t help but like the guy for that. Marshawn Lynch is one of the most intriguing people in the NFL, even if he’s terrible for fantasy football, (lesson learned).

Do I agree with everything he does? No. Do I expect to change anyone’s mind about this guy? Nope. I do, however, think he’s a touch misunderstood. I’ll give you four reasons I love the guy, try to be open-minded.

#1

After being ejected from Thursday’s game against the Chiefs he watched from the stands, and then took a train home.

I’m still mad about it too, Marshawn.

He was ejected from the game. Everyone thought he left, but there he is hanging out with Raider Nation until the (really insane, crazy) end. AND THEN TOOK THE TRAIN HOME!

#2

Um, he’s an amazing running back? Obviously. Anyone with the nickname: Beastmode has my love. Not really… but it seemed like the right thing to say. Marshawn has my love though because watching him play football is serious entertainment.

#3

He hates Donald Trump, just like me.

I love him. I love him. I love him.

#4

He is who he is, unapologetically, and I don’t believe in faulting people for that.

Everyone knows about the I’m just here so I don’t get fined deal. Me? I thought it was hilarious. I enjoyed it more everytime he said it, and it never got old. I’m not sure if I could have physically rolled my eyes any harder at people who were offended or on their high horse, “It’s part of the job” bullshit. He doesn’t care, neither should you.

We don’t get any more interview time than you get with him. He doesn’t talk with us and doesn’t talk to you really. On this football team, and all teams, there are people that are more available than other people because they’re comfortable with that.

Seattle Seahawks coach, Pete Carroll

So, say what you’d like about the guy… I’ll be over here waiting for more Marshawn madness on the field, and off – cause I love it.

I ain’t got nothing to say. I just wanna play football.

-Marshawn Lynch

 

Disclaimer: Explicit Language – Because Someone Grabbed My P****.

Maybe he didn’t grab it. Perhaps it was more of a slap. I don’t know, and to be frank I have no obligation to explain details – he put his hand on my private parts, end of story. It doesn’t matter how, when, why, where or what the specifics were that day. What does matter, to me anyway, is that I call him out publicly, in hopes that he stops being such a goddamn creep.
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I’ll tell you the whole story, but first I want to let other people know, if you’ve been disrespected, or sexually harassed – stand your ground. The humiliation does not lie on you. Maybe it doesn’t seem significant enough but at the very least… call them out. Spread the word, because shame on them, not us.
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So anyway, I went to a bar to celebrate my friend’s birthday and a guy took it upon himself to grab my crotch, unprovoked and absolutely uninvited. He legit, Donald-Trump-Pussy-Grabbed me. This man was, and is not a stranger but he’s certainly not a friend. I’d maybe call him an acquaintance if he wasn’t such a douchebag, and if that term didn’t sound a little friendly. Unfortunately, our lives seem to cross paths about once a week, so I was less than surprised when he was also there to celebrate.
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I was walking towards the bathroom when the birthday girl and crotch-grabber started walking in my direction, excited because they had just won some money on the gambling machine. Happy for her, who shouldn’t win on their birthday? I hugged her, not paying much attention to the guy at the center of the story. This is when it happened. I felt it, grasped my friend’s face and with wide eyes exclaimed:..
OH MY FUCKING GOD, HE JUST GRABBED MY PUSSY!
Yes, I am a lady, and sometimes ladies use that word also. Especially when the situation calls for more serious vocabulary, of the colorful variety.
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I walked away, shocked, passing another friend and without hesitation I told her too. I did not, and still do not care who knows. I have no interest in protecting him and ideally he’d be as embarrassed as humanly possible.
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So, here we are.
After I exited the bathroom he approached me, and hold onto your shorts folks because you’ll never guess what he said to me. He did not apologize, rather told me that I need to simmer down. Me. Simmer down. I am not typically one to have a filter, and looking back now I’m disgustingly surprised that I did not lose my shit on him right then and there. I was so offended that I simply walked away.
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Then, after already taking it upon himself to make my body his entertainment, and after his snarky attitude followed… he had the audacity to approach me yet again.
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He rested his elbow on my shoulder, I looked up at him and plainly stated: My husband will kill you. His response? “Are you threatening me?” If you didn’t stress that statement with a solid douchebag accent, feel free to re-read it. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, while all of this is taking place my husband is at the event with me. That takes balls, his confidence is astounding.
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I don’t know if he’s stupid enough to believe women, married women at that, are into grotesque social graces such as those or if he’s simply just a tasteless little boy with a lack of morals. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I’m not impressed, and sincerely hope he finds himself reading this and feels even the most mild sense of shame.
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This happened three month ago. Initially I kept this from my husband because 1.) I didn’t want him to go to jail and 2.) I didn’t want to put myself, or my man in a position where he’d have to ask me – Why would he think it’s okay to do that? It’s a fair question. Why did Creeper McCreeperston feel like that was okay? What gives someone that caliber of entitlement? I have no answers, but secrets out. Now everyone knows.
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So to you: you know who you are, you know that other people know who you are. I’m hoping that since I got this off my chest I can finally start doing what you asked and simmer down. None of the questions I asked here require an answer, you’re not worth my time. I’m not threatening you, but politely warning: don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, and keep your fucking hands off me. Don’t offer to put my drink on your tab, and stop pretending that we’re friends. To me, you’re nothing more than a disgusting bar rat. 
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