Ah, another day to celebrate that I can completely understand. January 7th is, officially, I’m Not Going To Take It Anymore Day. In case you missed the iconic, Oscar-winning movie from which the line is taken (as, in fact, did I), I am attempting to attach a video created from it. You should be aware, however, that the clip does contain a couple expletives. Actually, a lot of them if you count the one repeated over and over in the movie itself. But I can definitely picture my own father doing this. I’m sure he would have, if he had seen the movie.
Most of you know the movie from which that is taken. If you would like to see the scene from actual the movie, click below.
You and I may not live with or work for insane people in an insane world. Well, you may not. But we can all completely understand the need to occasionally throw open a window (if only figuratively) and let the world know–we’re ticked! And if this was the case in 1976, then today . . .wow.
So today, to celebrate, here is my list of things I’m not going to take anymore.
*People who don’t know how to use apostrophes. Honestly. Its just amazing in it’s ability to be so bad that its gotten to epidemic proportions in it’s abuse. (No, do not write to me about that sentence.)
*Use of the words ‘resonate’ and ‘ergonomic’ in any context. Can we say enough already??
*People who assume since I’m a stay-at-home-mom I have no life. Or brain. Really, I don’t get it when people say they’d be so bored to stay home. That’s one emotion I can safely say I’ve never felt in nineteen years of child raising. My kids are very . . . interesting. At some times more than at others.
*On that note, people who assume that since I’m a freelance writer I have lots of time during the day to do all the work they don’t have time to do because their office isn’t located in their living room. Newsflash–Nope. Not really. My time is more flexible, but not more available.
*The pressure to put my kids in speed reading, ballet, conversational Chinese, and traveling soccer by the time they’re three. I have a strong suspicion that if they don’t start prepping for college by the time they leave elementary school they’ll still end up fairly well-adjusted. With no ulcers. And a college admissions envelope.
*While on that subject, just say no to parents who come up to you at the grocery store/park/gym to talk about their kids’ achievements until your eyes glaze over. If this happens to me on I’m Not Going To Take It Anymore Day, I’m going to tell that mom, with a completely straight face, that my oldest child just got asked to craft Obama’s next acceptance speech as well as his foreign policy for North Korea. (Never mind that my oldest child harbors a suspicion that Obama is the antichrist. I won’t mention that.)
*And on the subject of glazed eyes–for today I’m not going to take any trips to Home Depot, Menard’s, Lowe’s, or any incarnation thereof to “help” pick out 2x4s that all look the same to me but for some inexplicable reason must all be taken down from the rack above our heads and examined with my husband’s eye of a surgeon. Not today.
*Alarm clocks that ring before 7am. Just . . . no. Except I’ve already broken that resolve for today.
*Emails that tell me I’m going to have seven years of bad luck, lose someone I love, get head lice, or be forced to listen to sixteen hours of P Diddy if I do not forward them. Bring it on.
*Drivers who stop, suddenly realize they meant to turn left, and even though there are thirty people behind them, the light is green, its rush hour, and its completely illegal, will make you wait until they can get into the left lane. I’m not sure what I’ll do about this, but I’m not going to take it anymore, today.
Parent drivers who cannot drop off their perfectly healthy, able-bodied child twenty feet from the school entrance. They have to wait until they are the first car in line at the door. Then they get mad when people who let their kids out five minute ago and are waiting finally go around them.
So, to celebrate this day, decide what you’re not going to take anymore. I hope that does not include me. Or your spouse. Then open your window (make sure you’re dressed first) and yell–“I’m mad as (your choice of noun here) and I’m not going to take it anymore!”
Perhaps if we all tried this in Washington . . .