Someone needs to tell Whoopi Goldberg to read this and this before she says something stupid like a 40 year old man having sex with a 13 year old girl isn’t rape. Not “rape-rape”, eh? Are you serious, Whoopi? Disgusting.

Stop defending the man! That goes for the rest of you morons who think that Roman Polanski is some sort of genius who shouldn’t have to pay for his crimes. Read the two links I provided and you tell me what is rape and what isn’t. She said “no” more than once and she was afraid. This is all a matter of public record. But it isn’t “rape” because her mother knew she was with him.

*brain explodes*

I was a 13 year old girl once and I can tell you right now, if a 40 year old man had encouraged me to take photos without clothes off, then gave me champagne and drugs, and had sex with me, I would be scared. And yes, it would be rape.

You know, there’s a lot of personal things that I don’t share on this blog. As much as I love sharing my life, I don’t feel like there are things that you all need to know. I have strong opinions about a lot of things and I don’t mind throwing them out there, but there’s a lot of things that I keep closed up, because I still enjoy my privacy and I want my family to have theirs.

That said, there have been many times over the last nine years when I’ve wanted to share what I’m about to share. I haven’t, because I didn’t feel like I was ready to just throw it out there for everyone to read and to judge me. But this Roman Polanski business has been the breaking point for me and now I’m going to share something that happened to me, so maybe you’ll understand why I’m so upset about it and why all of these Polanski defenders have me past the boiling point.

I was sexually molested when I was maybe nine or ten years old by someone in my family. I have family that reads this blog, some of whom know what I’m speaking of, but some who don’t. I won’t go into the identity of this person on this blog, but I will say that this person is someone in my immediate sphere. Not blood-related, but a constant the whole time I was growing up.

This person did not rape me or have intercourse with me – thank God, but he did do things to me that were inappropriate. He touched me in places that he shouldn’t have. He tried to get me to do things to him. He kissed me in a way that he shouldn’t have, even after I told him “no” and that I didn’t like it.

He told me not to tell anyone and that if I did, everyone would be mad at me. He told me that my father, who was very abusive and beat us regularly as it was, would beat me more if he found out. He did this to me twice while we were alone. After that, I was never alone with him again. Even at that age, I knew that what he was doing was wrong and I made sure that he wasn’t going to do it again.

I remember feeling scared and helpless. I didn’t tell anyone at first, though I did finally mention it to the wife of the man, and she accused me of lying and I never brought it up with her again. I was too afraid to go to my father, because I knew that I would get the bloody hell beat out of me. My father would’ve killed me and I am not joking about that. He would’ve killed me. I was also afraid of people being mad at me. I felt like I had done something to make this person do these things to me. I was just a child, unable to defend myself out of fear, and with no-one to stand up for me.

But the abuse didn’t stop there. Unable to do anything else to me physically, this person would rub up against me if he saw me alone. He would whisper to me in passing that he had thought of me while he was having sex with his wife. I heard those words more times than I care to count. He also told me that he wanted to have sex with me. I would stand there uncomfortable, no words coming from my mouth, and praying to be out of his presence. There were times I had to be in the same car with him alone and he would always make me sit in the front seat, where he would tell me disgusting things and try to feel my leg.

I refused to be alone with this person if I possibly could, because he made me feel dirty and uncomfortable and I knew that given the opportunity, he would try to have sex with me and I was afraid he wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. Do I believe he would’ve raped me? No, I don’t think he would’ve, but I have NO DOUBT in my mind that he would’ve tried to talk me into sex.

This happened until was maybe 17 years old, when it stopped for the most part. I don’t know if it’s because I had gotten older and able to defend myself against his words or because he had lost interest in his little game. In any event, I’m glad it stopped. Even now, I feel very uncomfortable in his presence. My husband knows about this person and what he did to me and he won’t get around him, and that’s probably a good thing, because I imagine the man would come out worse for wear from it.

I have lived with this guilt and this “smudge” on my innocence my whole life. Granted, I’m luckier than a lot of children who’ve been molested and my story isn’t nearly horrific, but I share this to make a point. And the point is, a child is a child, whether they are 10 or 13. And when a grown man takes advantage of a child and uses guilt or fear to have sex with them, then it’s rape. I’m sorry, but it is. Roman Polanski raped that girl, and while I appreciate her stance on it now, the fact remains that she was scared, she said “no”, and he didn’t stop. He took advantage of her. And everyone defending him and saying this isn’t “rape-rape” or that because somehow he’s a brilliant director that he should be forgiven are spitting in not only my face, but the faces of children everywhere who’ve had someone take advantage of them. Theses morons don’t know what it’s like to have this done and the impact it has on you, even into adulthood. I could go into how I feel about sex and why I still don’t like for people to touch me, but I won’t. That’s as personal as I’m going to get.

And yes, I called all of you Polanski defenders morons. Own it. Stop being morons and I’ll stop calling you out for it. The girl was 13 years old. He took advantage of her. He got her drunk, gave her drugs, and then had sex with her. There’s a word for what he did…it’s called rape. If he weren’t a celebrity, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. He’d be in jail right now…period. And the only reason he isn’t in jail is because he fled the country instead of being a man and paying for his crimes. It could’ve happened 100 years ago and it still wouldn’t excuse what he did, and just because he was so yellow that he hasn’t set a foot back in the country during all these years means that what he did should be thrown aside and that justice shouldn’t be rendered.

Yes, he’s a fantastic director. I don’t think anyone is denying this. But does that really give him a pass for what he did? And it begs to question, how many times did this happen that no-one knew about? I have a hard time believing this is the ONLY time he had sex with an underage girl. I’m not saying this as truth, it’s just an opinion, but it’s one to think about.

You look at YOUR 13 year old daughter or niece and you tell me what YOU would call it if a grown ass man did that to her. Would it be okay if he was a celebrity? Come on people, common sense. Parents, protect your children and NEVER give them a reason not to be able to come to you if something like this happens. Do not throw them out for the lions like this girl’s mother did. She’s as much to blame as Polanski.

I’d like to warn anyone who even thinks of defending that man in a comment to go ahead and click the little red “x” in the top right hand corner of the page. I don’t want to read it. And if you’ve come here to judge me, I suggest you do the same.

Recommended Reading:
My Bottle’s Up: “rape rape”

I received this information just a few minutes ago and thought it was important enough to share with my readers, especially those of you in Savannah who could make it out to show your respects to this brave young man.

This is an especially sad day, one of our very brave brothers, Capt. Matt Freeman of the United States Marine Corp has died in Afghanistan. His remains will arrive at the National Guard Field in Sav on Wed at 3PM. He will exit the National Guard at 4PM turn right onto Dean Forest Rd and be driven to Route 17 where they will continue on Rt 17 until they take a right on Rte 144 and proceed to the Richmond Hill funeral home.

Capt Freeman will remain there until his services on Saturday. We want to encourage everyone to be along the transport route to honor our brother who made the ultimate sacrifice to preserve our freedom. Please be there. God Bless!

I did some research and found the following information about Capt. Freeman:

Marine Capt. Matthew C. Freeman: 29, of Richmond Hill, Ga.; assigned to Marine Aircraft Group 36, 1st Marine Aircraft Wing, III Marine Expeditionary Force, Okinawa, Japan; died Aug. 7 while supporting combat operations in Kapisa province, Afghanistan.

Source

I also found this on WTOC:

If you have the time, please stand along the route and pay your respects.

Today is Open House at my son’s school and the realization that he is starting middle school this year hit me like a ton of bricks last night when I went to bed. It took about one minute for the tears to start when I realized that my little boy wasn’t so little anymore. He wasn’t this cute little baby…my sweet little man…the little boy who plays with Transformers toys and laughs hysterically at the mention of “butts”. He’s 11 years old now and out of elementary school and a whole new world begins for him in three days. And with this new world begins responsibility and acting like a young man. It’s the first giant step he’s going to take out of childhood into the scary realm of “teenager”.

I was, and still am, pretty devastated by all of this. I actually broke down and started sobbing and telling my husband that I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t have it in me to walk him into the middle school this afternoon and show him around his new school. I could actually feel my heart breaking into a million tiny pieces in my chest. Even now, as I type this, I have tears in my eyes and my chest is welling up with sadness and I know any moment now that I’m going to start crying again. When it happens, and believe me it’s going to happen, my son will probably give me his standard “Mom, why are you acting like a lunatic???” look and move on to something else, leaving me to think about the day I brought him home from the hospital, his first step, his first word, his first day of school. Oh my gawd…his first day of school. *and the tears start*

Wouldn’t it be nice to keep our children young for just a little longer? Wouldn’t it be nice to have the power to hit a magical “STOP” button and enjoy what’s left of their childhood for just a little more? I just want my son to stay young for as long as he can and I don’t think it’s fair that he’s growing up so fast that I can barely keep up.

All I see when I look at him right now is this sweet little boy who loves to pick me weeds and call them flowers. A child who has this contagious, amazing laugh that is so innocent and cute. A child who has been taking his Daddy to bed for every single night for 10 years. My little man who is getting so big, but is still small enough to crawl up on my legs, wrap his arms around my neck, and gives me the sweetest sugars on my cheek while he says, “I love you Mommy”.

My heart is breaking. I honestly don’t know how I’m going to make it through today. Call me crazy, call me dramatic, but I think you mothers out there will understand my sorrow. Say a little prayer for me today. I’m going to need it.

If you’ve been following me on Twitter for the past couple of hours, then you know that my life is over. I lost my debit card at the post office yesterday and some asshole took it and used it to buy gas. And that’s just what we can see online. Who knows what else they charged online or went to Walmart and bought. You didn’t know that when you run debit cards at Walmart that they don’t ask for a pin number? Well, they don’t.

The card has been reported stolen and it’s been cancelled, but the damage has been done. How much we won’t know until we go and talk to the bank today. Now we have to file a police report and everything. I’m a mixture of disappointed, pissed, horrified, devastated, and just plain worn out by the entire situation. Most of all though, I’m just pissed. Pissed at myself or being stupid enough to let it fall from my fingers and not realize it right away. BTW: this has NEVER happened before and I’m usually good at putting it right back in my purse. Didn’t have my purse yesterday and took the card in bare-handed. That’s what I get, I guess.

I live in a very tiny community, so I know pretty much everyone around here. We’re so small that it takes about 1 minute to drive from one end to the other. And we all pass each other at the post office, which was the scene of the crime, so I’ve probably seen whoever took it a million times before. The card was used two minutes up the road at the gas station. That means that I probably know the asshole who found the card and wasn’t decent enough to give it to the postmaster or return it to the bank. I have now made it my life’s mission to find this person and ruin their frickin’ life. I hope whatever they charged was worth it, because I’m about to rain all kinds of Hell down on their ass. Yeah, my dumb ass lost it, but you didn’t have to use it, but you did. And now, I can’t pay my rent or buy groceries. My husband doesn’t get paid for another two weeks and I don’t get paid for another week. We are screwed because of your thieving ass. You better hope gas was all that you bought.

So, my advice to you…dear reader…is to keep your debit card safe. Don’t be a dumbass like me and lose it. And my advice to whoever took it…well…I will find you and beat you within an inch of your life. It won’t be hard.

Matthew 28:1-10
After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb. There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men.

The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples: ‘He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.’ Now I have told you.”

So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them. “Greetings,” he said. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”

I was sitting in the parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly in Pooler yesterday. I had just pulled in and I was trying to find my Pig Card when I saw a little boy, maybe around the age of 10 or 11, get out of the car in front of me and run to the back of my truck and then run back to his car. It happened so quickly that I didn’t really understand what he had done, so I asked my little boy if he saw the boy do anything to our truck and he said “no”. Something wasn’t right though, so I sat there for a moment and watched the boy and his older brother. They were smelling their hand and laughing and I knew they were up to no good, and if I sat there long enough, I’d figure out what they had done.

Sure enough, not five minutes later, a truck pulls in directly in the spot in front of my truck and before the lady can even get out of her vehicle, the younger brother in the backseat jumps out, runs to the back of her vehicle and starts spraying it with something. I could see the mist from whatever it was all in the air. He was laughing and had his crap-eating grin on his face, and I decided I had just had enough of his foolishness.

I opened my door and stepped out, pointed my finger at him and yelled in the loudest voice I could, “Hey you, kid! Did you just spray that ladies’s vehicle?”

People in the parking lot stopped to look at the commotion. I scared the poor lady getting out of her vehicle, because she did one of those “jump back and clutch the chest” movements. I didn’t mean to scare her, but she was maybe 30, so no chance of a heart attack. I was just so angry that I didn’t realize how loud I had yelled.

The boy, caught red-handed turned every shade of red in the face and said, “No, ma’am.”

At this point, I wasn’t in the mood for his blatant lying and I yelled, “Stop lying to me, I saw you. You sprayed my vehicle and you sprayed hers. Don’t you DARE spray another vehicle in this parking lot, do you hear me?”.

At that point, the kid run back into the backseat of his mother’s car and his brother in the front seat was giving me a look like I had grown two heads. The lady in the truck asked me what he had done, I told her, and she thanked me. She looked at her vehicle to make sure it was alright and she walked into the store.

Now, I’m not one to yell at someone’s else’s child. I don’t discipline them. I just don’t do it. But this was beyond the pale. They had sprayed my vehicle and they were spraying everyone else’s in the middle of the day with no care about who saw them and who wasn’t. I refused to let it go. Some kids just need to be taught a lesson.

I grabbed the first buggy boy I could and told him to go inside and get his manager. She came out a few minutes later and I explained to her what was going on. She was thankful, because if anything were to happen to the vehicles in the lot, nine times out of ten, the store would be getting angry phone calls. The whole time I’m telling her what’s going on, the two boys are in the front seat with sheer terror on their faces. They’d been caught and they were now in big trouble. The manager and buggy boy told me that if I needed to go in and shop, they would wait in the parking lot for the boys’ parents and tell them about the incident. I walked into the store, but not without giving the boys the “stink eye” all the way in.

I was in the store no more than three or four minutes before the manager came back and told me that their mother came out just as I was walking in. They explained to her what had happened and she said that the only thing in the car was a bottle of brand new perfume that she had bought. She checked the bottle and sure enough, they had used a good portion of it spraying vehicles in the lot. The manager said the mother thanked her for telling her what the boys had done and they were being disciplined in the car when the manager walked in.

Do I feel good about this? You bet your cute butt, I do! Rotten kids need to be put in their place every once in a while, and these kids were rotten. My only hope is that Mama took them home and gave them a good butt-whipping and grounded their little sorry butts until they were 18. When I was growing up, I would’ve expected no less if I had done something that stupid. Then of course, back then, parents actually disciplined their children and kids were too afraid to do anything wrong.

The point of the story is this: You DO NOT spray someone else’s vehicle with perfume or anything else. These kids came from money, the car their mother was driving was a good indication of that. But not everyone is made of money and if our vehicles are messed up, we have a hard time fixing them. That’s why it ticked me off to see these kids spraying vehicles, with no care about what would happen if they messed the paint jobs up. It would’ve come out of someone’s pocket and it wouldn’t be theirs. They didn’t think they’d get caught, but they just had the misfortune of doing it in front of me.

Kids will be kids and I’m fine with that, but rotten kids are just rotten, and I don’t like rotten. There’s a HUGE difference in a kid being a kid and a rotten kid with no respect for other people’s property.

Mothers, control your rotten kids. I don’t ever want to yell at another kid that’s not my own. I want this to be the first and only time.

I’ve thrown together a salad, I’ve got two smoked chickens and a slew of redneck neighbors with enough fireworks to keep me entertained for hours. In short, I’m so ready for the New Year!

I made some resolutions last year and I broke most of them. I did try though, so that counts for something, right? My goal was to lose 100 pounds. I lost 50. I gained 40 back. Damnit. I tried to stop cussing…yeah…that lasted like two seconds. I wanted a better job…I got it…then had to give it up because my boss was crazy. So you see, I really do try to do better, but it just doesn’t work out the way I want it to.

This year, I’m going to recycle all of last year’s resolutions and make a new one to just stick to them. I’m going to do better this year, I promise. It’s going to happen. Right? Right. Absolutely. Not going to give in. *deep sigh*

I’d like to say “thanks” to all of you who continue to read my blog, even when I go weeks without updating it. Some of you have been here for years and you don’t know how truly blessed I feel that you keep coming back. I hope you’ll continue to stay.

Some of you are new readers and I’m just as grateful for you. I hope that you’ll go back and read my older posts and stay for future ones. Maybe you’ll find something you agree with me about…maybe you won’t.

In any case, I’m thankful for the feedback you all leave, and while it may take me a while to respond, it doesn’t go unread and it’s certainly appreciated. So thanks for making Dizzy Girl what it is. :)

Here’s hoping that 2009 brings you and I both prosperity, fine health, and good fortune. Let’s look to brighter days and better tomorrows and endless opportunities.

Cheers.

2008…you sucked a big fat one. Good riddance.

To ring in the New Year, here’s some music. You know the drill. Listen…enjoy…download…purchase…wash…rinse…repeat.

- DO NOT STREAM!
- Right Click/Save Target As.
- Files will stay up for 24 hours and then they’re gone forever. Please delete these from your computer. Don’t want the “Music Nazis” after you do ya?
- If you like the music, purchase the CDs! Keep the music flowing people.
- A bloody “thank you” would be nice.

Right. Learn it. Know it. Live it.

Diana Krall – What Are You Doing New Years Eve

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U2 – New Years Day

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Chris Bathgate – Auld Lang Syne

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Jo Stafford – Auld Lang Syne

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