The Horse is Dead. RIP Horse

Once upon a time, a guy associated with professional sports media acted like a dick. Multiple times. Total dick move and he got called out on it. Appropriate response to a dick move.

Guy got fired from the professional sports media organization. Another appropriate response to his dick move.

Guy tweeted an apology. Once again, an appropriate response to his dick move. (Who am I to judge an apology? Whether heartfelt or lackluster, one was made)

End of subject. Everybody carry on. The End. The horse is dead. RIP horse.

Oh wait! Lots of “gentlemen” (note the “air quote” please) are bitchin that the guy should have never been fired for the dick move. Srsly? Are you boneheads seriously thinking that the dick move wasn’t really a dick move? What, because you would have totally done it yourself if you had the chance to use whatever professional standing you had to hit up some hottie who liked hockey? “Score!”???

Did your Mama drop you on your head or did it happen when you fell off the turnip truck?

Now, everybody in the hockeysphere knows what I’m talking about here. And it’s not like the boss of the guy is my BFF or nuthin. I’m just sick to death of this freaking dead horse getting bashed over and over.

Even if the dick move wasn’t sexist, objectifying, and rude (which it was, among many other things-trust me on that), now all these “gentlemen” expect to be told the who, what, when, where and why of the actions against the guy.

Dear “Gentlemen” – it is not a news story. It is also none of your business. You do not get to object. You have no horse in this race.

Oh, you think you DO have a horse in this race? What, is it some bro code you have to honor?

Ok, let’s take your horsie for a ride…let’s suppose you did something in private that was exposed in public because it was inappropriate and you should be stopped from doing it again. And let’s say that not only did you seem to use your professional connections to do this, but you did it in such a way that you insulted many customers of your business. Then, let’s add that, based on reports, you have done this many times to multiple customers. Oh, and let’s not forget the fact that by taking that action, you tarnished the reputation of the company you work for. And, to top it off, your company has to take just as much heat for it (if not more) as you do, because your employment with them was their responsibility.

And that is all just from an HR stand point, nothing personal. Here’s personal…the dick move was towards your sister, wife or mother. Go explain to her why the guy shouldn’t have gotten fired. See what she says to that. You’ll be sleeping in the stable for a long time coming.

Giddy up cowboy; you’re fired. (Consider yourself lucky you didn’t get gelded before you got put out to pasture, Mr. Ed.)

So, can everybody please just stop with the fucking whining and bitching over a guy who made a dick move and got fired for it?  The horse is dead. RIP horse.

Episode 13: The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Year

(This isn’t a hockey post. This isn’t a sports post. This is a life post. And since it’s my fucking blog, I’m just gonna leave this here.)

First I’d like to say “Hey World, did ya miss me?” Secondly, a big THANK YOU to everyone who noticed I’d been pretty much non-existent for quite a while and DM’d, texted, and emailed me with their concerns. You all rock and you know who you are.

It’s been a pretty bad year for me, both personally and professionally. I didn’t want to post long diatribes on FB of all my problems, I kinda cringe when I see those in my timeline, so it felt hypocritical. But lately, I’ve been tempted to and realized what significance that was to me. So, here’s the deal…

Last summer, my life started into a downward spiral with some dysfunctional family decisions that were forced upon me. Autumn arrived with some professional disappointments that seemed unfair and overwhelming. Then the spiral became a true pit of despair when I decided to quit smoking on top of all that. Yeah, pile on the misery. The anxiety of nicotine withdrawal and the weight gain, certain work related problems that were not improving, throw in some fucked up family shit and the result was full blown depression. Not as far as suicidal, but pretty fucking bad. The kind of depression that is so close to self-loathing that mirrors are in danger of being smashed. The kind of depression that makes you hide from everything and when forced to interact, you plaster a phony smile on because resting bitch face has become real bitch face. Not many people realize how depression can result in so much anger. Anger at the world for putting me in that position and anger at myself for putting myself in that position. I wasn’t very nice to people during this last year. I’m truly sorry for that. Baby steps.

Anyway, I knew I needed to face my professional disappointments and work towards a new solution. I knew needed to tackle the fucking weight gain and get back to feeling half-way normal again. I knew needed to let go of petty family bullshit and not allow the hurtful behavior of assholes rent space in my head. I knew all of these things in my brain, but convincing the rest of me was pretty damned tough. Being the ornery bitch that I am, I found my “fuck it” voice and I started working really hard to overcome the total blueness of my life. There is no quick solution to depression, even with medication, it takes time. Baby steps.

Then, Robin Williams committed suicide and my world crashed down into a reality check of epic proportions.

Epic proportions? Scoff all you want, but it felt that way to me. It wasn’t because his death was so personal to me, it was the aftermath; the reactions to his death that did it. It was odd- reading all those articles and blogs about depression, but I kinda took them to heart. That outpouring of support after Robin Williams’ death actually kinda helped me in a roundabout way. That was when I realized that I wanted to talk to the world again. That I was an ok person and I could find a way back. And, that there were people in the world that were ok with me that I had forgotten about. I didn’t want sympathy for having depression, I was just ready to get back into life again. I needed to recognize that the work I had been doing to overcome all my misery was actually paying off; in small degrees but degrees nonetheless. So being tempted to write posts on FB signaled to me that I was beginning to see a light at the end of what had seemed like an endless tunnel. Ancient proverb says: The road to recovery is long, but worn out shoe leather is proof of the journey (or some such bullshit). Baby steps.

So, anyway, that’s it. That’s my story. Hopefully, ya'll aren't thinking "TMI woman, T. M. I." Actually, if you are thinking that and got this far, that's really your problem, not mine. Suffice it to say, I’m not 100% yet, but who is? Carry on and thanks for reading.