October 21, 2016
8:12 p.m.
Have you ever noticed that the people who give up the most, who go out of their way to help, and who always answer the call for help are the ones who get dumped on the most?
WHY??
Disclaimer: You might think this woman is you. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. You might think this woman is your mother. Again, maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. If it is--shame on you!
I know this woman who has gone out of her way on multiple occasions to help her kids through numerous problems. She has given them money, made road trips to get them, let them stay with her, let their families stay with her, fed them, bought them clothes, paid their bills and fines and storage fees, cleaned up after them...
The list goes on and on.
They treat her like crap. Whatever goes wrong in their lives, they find a way to blame it on her. Then they don't answer calls or return them to hurt her--until they need something else! Then it's "Hi, Mom, I just wanted to call you."
If I was her, my first question would be, "Now what?"
But she's just so happy to hear from them, you know?
A while back she took in her "grandchild" for a while, because the child's mother was very ill and unable to care for her, and her son--who is not the biological father, but still the only father the child knows--wasn't working and was in trouble with the law and also unable to care for the child.
This woman loves the child very much, took great care of her, got her in school, took care of medical appointments that had been neglected, etc. Then the mother's family just decided it was time to pitch in, and they came and got her. There was nothing this woman could do--no biological claim, and her son wasn't ever married to the child's mother, so he had no claim either.
Now the son is with another woman, and they have a one-year-old child. They are both involved with drugs and in trouble with the law. They are not married, but he is the biological father of this child. Well, probably.
The other grandmother is in poor health and unable to care for the baby. Her sister came to the house, kicked out this woman's son, and called this woman and told her that Department of Family Services was going to be called to pick up the baby unless she could take her. Like, right now.
Of course, this woman said yes, and the baby was delivered to her while her son and the baby's mother were busy hiding out from the law!
So NOW, they are accusing her of "stealing" their baby and threatening her.
Bear in mind, they are both wanted by the law for something--things they could resolve if they'd go talk to the law about the issues. They have no jobs, no money, no car. They both have issues with drugs.
But according to the son, everything is this woman's fault! She forced him to take drugs, miss appointments with his probation officer and lose every job he's had. Yeah, right. She did that. She's responsible for his bad behavior.
Did I mention he's over thirty?
According the the baby's mother, her mother is to blame for everything she's done.
Wow! The power of Moms. Amazing, huh? How is it that other members of the families hold good jobs, pay their own bills--on time!--and have no outstanding warrants or missed probation appointments? Same mothers...
A plot must be afoot, eh?
Where did this mindset come from?
It's true, there are no perfect parents, but...
Holy crap, what a bunch of entitled, lazy, good-for-nothing adults our generation managed to enable. Yes, there are a lot of great people out there who were born and raised in the 1980's, but seriously, that generation has produced a lot of "the world owes me a living" young adults who don't take responsibility for anything. And they're in their thirties now, so it's more than high time to quit blaming the parents and take care of themselves.
This woman isn't perfect; she's had her own issues to get through. No one is perfect! We've all fallen short in our lives. But I have never heard her blaming her parents for her shortcomings; she's big enough to admit it when she goofs.
Not those kids! No accountability. Everything is blamed on someone else.
Suppose she'd just said no? That baby would be in the system right now, and the way they are living their lives, they would never, ever get their child back. Ward of the court, foster care, supervised visitation--if they got lucky--and then...what? Because in order to even have a chance to get the baby back they would have to turn themselves in, face the music on the law cases they're hiding from and avoiding, deal with the consequences of their actions and then maybe, just maybe, they'd get to set up visits and such.
Instead they say she "stole" their baby, and get the other people involved. The mother who was so ill everyone expected her to die? She asked if the situation felt familiar, suggesting that her child had also been "stolen", and said that this woman would now not get to see that child any more.
She had that child in her home for months, fed and clothed her and got no help at all from her son or the child's mother. She has asked for no help with this baby; why would she? She certainly knows better than to expect it.
Honestly, I think her son just expected her to invite him to stay with her so he could hide from the law. I think she's smart not to offer. He needs to take care of himself. He's over thirty years old; his mommy is under no further obligation to take care of him. He's lucky she's willing to take in his baby, and care for the child--the child would be lost to him otherwise, and it would be his own fault.
On top of it all, if they try to do anything to her, they will still lose the child, because--duh!!--they would have to go to the law, and then--double duh!!--the law will have them right where they want them. (And pretty much right where they need to be, because--triple duh!--they need to get their crap together!)
Stupid much, people?
Poor woman. Punished for being too nice. No help and no thanks.
Still...isn't it best to be nice, anyway? Loving our grandchildren and helping when needed should be a good thing. It shouldn't obligate us to take care of their adult screw-up parents, however.
If you're over thirty--get your shit together and take care of what needs to be taken care of. Quit blaming others for your problems--no one made you do it, you did it yourselves! You are responsible for your own lives, your own mistakes and paying for them. So take care of it. GROW UP!!
Good grief.
I just hate to see people trying to do good things and getting poked in the eye for it. Ungrateful brats.
And that's what I think.
End rant.
Good night.
Friday, October 21, 2016
Monday, October 17, 2016
October 17, 2016
3:34 p.m.
Today I shared something on someone else's timeline on Facebook because she shared a story--see it here: http://www.scarymommy.com/amber-tamblyn-shares-story-of-sexual-abuse/?utm_medium=partner&utm_source=upworthy-- and got a lot of negative comments from people for it. I found the comments offensive and somewhat ridiculous, so I kind of over-shared.
For those who want to know anything about why or how I know what I'm talking about--too bad. But I do know.
Many of you probably know, too. Many of you probably feel no obligation to explain why and how you know. I respect that.
My main reason for sharing this much is because I was very upset to hear Donald Trump speaking so flippantly about his taped remarks regarding grabbing women, and his clearly obvious belief that he was entitled to be able to do so. He's rich, he's famous, he can "do anything".
Sickening.
Too many men already think that they are entitled to do what they want with women; we don't need someone out there claiming that "locker room talk" is in any way acceptable. We don't need anyone out there justifying the behavior or the mind set that creates it.
I'm appalled to realize that even women are defending it and belittling the feelings of victims who have finally swallowed their fear and come forward to tell their stories.
Here's what I said:
"Survivors of sexual abuse and/or assault often NEVER speak up, because society as a whole has made it clear that she will be furthur abused by their disbelief--the burden of proof is on her--by their flippancy--she'll "get over it"--by their blame--What were you wearing? What did you say to him? Why were you there?-- Most cases of rape go unreported, because we've been shown time and again that we will be the ones on trial in the end, instead of the attacker. The way Trump spoke is not "just words". Those are weapons to anyone who has suffered at the hands of someone who has belittled and disrespected a person's right to say no. Your choice of clothing, your choice to attend a party, your choice to say "yes" to a dance or a drink does not equal a "yes" to sex, or to being mauled or to being called names and treated like a thing rather than a human being. And no, you never "get over it". It may lay dormant, but someone's "just words" can certainly trigger those memories. And no matter how much time has passed, those memories still hurt. And I include ANYONE who has been sexually abused in any way: women, children, and men. It can--and does--happen to anyone, and people who are lucky enough to have never fallen victim to an abuser can never understand the humiliation and shame. Part of the abuse is the abusers' ability to make the abused believe that they are the ones at fault for the behavior of the abuser."
It must be wonderful not to understand the pain, the fear, the humiliation, the shame and the anger that results from being the victim of an entitled, manipulative--and sometimes charming and charismatic and persuasive--person. Someone who tells you that, in the end, it's your own fault. That bad things will happen if you tell. That no one will ever believe you.
What's not wonderful is becoming part of the whole problem by refusing to believe that it is a problem. That "just words" cannot hurt anyone. Aren't you the same people who raise a stink when your child gets called names on the playground? Aren't you the same people who go bat-shit crazy over fat-shaming? How can you say they're "just words" in this case and then get all high and mighty about bullying? Where do you draw your line?
Just for the record: this is not about the election or politics in general. This is about basic human decency. Donald Trump has--by his own words and lack of humility--put his face on this issue, but he's just one person. This is MUCH bigger than he is. People need to wake up to the fact that society has victimized the victims for long enough. If you're a victim of sexual aggression, abuse or assault, you should not be further victimized by the law, by public opinion, etc.
Okay, I'm done. For now.
See ya!
3:34 p.m.
Today I shared something on someone else's timeline on Facebook because she shared a story--see it here: http://www.scarymommy.com/amber-tamblyn-shares-story-of-sexual-abuse/?utm_medium=partner&utm_source=upworthy-- and got a lot of negative comments from people for it. I found the comments offensive and somewhat ridiculous, so I kind of over-shared.
For those who want to know anything about why or how I know what I'm talking about--too bad. But I do know.
Many of you probably know, too. Many of you probably feel no obligation to explain why and how you know. I respect that.
My main reason for sharing this much is because I was very upset to hear Donald Trump speaking so flippantly about his taped remarks regarding grabbing women, and his clearly obvious belief that he was entitled to be able to do so. He's rich, he's famous, he can "do anything".
Sickening.
Too many men already think that they are entitled to do what they want with women; we don't need someone out there claiming that "locker room talk" is in any way acceptable. We don't need anyone out there justifying the behavior or the mind set that creates it.
I'm appalled to realize that even women are defending it and belittling the feelings of victims who have finally swallowed their fear and come forward to tell their stories.
Here's what I said:
"Survivors of sexual abuse and/or assault often NEVER speak up, because society as a whole has made it clear that she will be furthur abused by their disbelief--the burden of proof is on her--by their flippancy--she'll "get over it"--by their blame--What were you wearing? What did you say to him? Why were you there?-- Most cases of rape go unreported, because we've been shown time and again that we will be the ones on trial in the end, instead of the attacker. The way Trump spoke is not "just words". Those are weapons to anyone who has suffered at the hands of someone who has belittled and disrespected a person's right to say no. Your choice of clothing, your choice to attend a party, your choice to say "yes" to a dance or a drink does not equal a "yes" to sex, or to being mauled or to being called names and treated like a thing rather than a human being. And no, you never "get over it". It may lay dormant, but someone's "just words" can certainly trigger those memories. And no matter how much time has passed, those memories still hurt. And I include ANYONE who has been sexually abused in any way: women, children, and men. It can--and does--happen to anyone, and people who are lucky enough to have never fallen victim to an abuser can never understand the humiliation and shame. Part of the abuse is the abusers' ability to make the abused believe that they are the ones at fault for the behavior of the abuser."
It must be wonderful not to understand the pain, the fear, the humiliation, the shame and the anger that results from being the victim of an entitled, manipulative--and sometimes charming and charismatic and persuasive--person. Someone who tells you that, in the end, it's your own fault. That bad things will happen if you tell. That no one will ever believe you.
What's not wonderful is becoming part of the whole problem by refusing to believe that it is a problem. That "just words" cannot hurt anyone. Aren't you the same people who raise a stink when your child gets called names on the playground? Aren't you the same people who go bat-shit crazy over fat-shaming? How can you say they're "just words" in this case and then get all high and mighty about bullying? Where do you draw your line?
Just for the record: this is not about the election or politics in general. This is about basic human decency. Donald Trump has--by his own words and lack of humility--put his face on this issue, but he's just one person. This is MUCH bigger than he is. People need to wake up to the fact that society has victimized the victims for long enough. If you're a victim of sexual aggression, abuse or assault, you should not be further victimized by the law, by public opinion, etc.
Okay, I'm done. For now.
See ya!
Wednesday, October 12, 2016
October 11, 2016
11:22 p.m.
I wrote a thing yesterday, and I said what I was thinking and got it all off my chest.
Then I deleted it.
Look, I'm pretty devoted to keeping MeThinks positive and upbeat, and that was just not my mindset yesterday--or recently, for that matter (did you see my rant against Denver's RoxyTheatre? So not nice or upbeat!) Things were bleak, my friends. Bleak.
I was writing about things I don't actually care to share, because a stupid man said stupid things and made me remember all the other stupid men I've encountered and all the stupid things I've put up with from those stupid men. This because I was too young, or too scared or too stupid myself to put a quick and firm stop to it.
Apparently, I don't tolerate stupid well. Not anymore. I'm older, I'm wiser, I'm tougher and I'm just not going to take it anymore.
So I ranted and then I hit the delete button.
This is nothing new for me. I used to do this in a handwritten journal, and then tear the rant to shreds and throw it away. The delete button is neater, faster and saves paper.
I call this a bitch fest. It's been good for me over the years. I can yell, scream, cuss, give whoever needs a piece of my mind a severe tongue lashing--and no one gets their feelings hurt. I never have to say I'm sorry or try to take anything back. Just "DELETE". It's all off my chest and in the garbage.
I can't say for absolute sure who taught me to do this, but I'm nearly certain it was a Junior High English teacher who I loved a lot. He encouraged me to write in general, and I spent a lot of time talking to him. I confided that there were so many times people said or did hurtful things and I wished I could tell them what I thought of things, but I was scared, shy, or whatever. Just because my feelings had been hurt, I didn't really, truly want to hurt back. So he said, "Write down all the things you want to say. If you really have to, you can give the letter to the person you wrote to. Or you can tear it up and throw it away--the letter, the bad feelings, the whole thing."
It worked then. It works now. I have written dozens of letters over the years, telling so-and-so why such-and-such made me feel this-and-that. I got a lot of things off my chest. I let a lot of things go. I never delivered a single letter, but I always ended up feeling better once the shreds of paper hit the wastebasket.
I gotta say: DELETE is faster, less messy and saves paper, but ripping all those negative words to shreds can be oh-so-satisfying. I kind of missed out on that with yesterday's rant and rave.
I try, try, try not to be a grudge holder, because it seems that holding a grudge takes up too much of my energy and hurts no one but me. So why bother?
However, this is not to say that old hurts never re-surface. They do. Things happen, things are said, and old memories are triggered. I don't care who you are, how forgiving you can be--memories have a lot of power! Many--probably most--are wonderful and sweet and happy. Some have the power to bring you to tears decades after the fact. Some can make you angry all over again, even though you were sure you'd let it go.
This is also not to say that I have never done the rant and rave out loud and in person. Sadly, I have indeed lost my temper, said hurtful things and then wished with all my heart that I could go back in time and unsay them. Oh, how I hate the human side of me sometimes.
So the bitch-fest lives on, and it has saved many from the sharper side of my tongue, my quick, cynical wit and my sometimes downright mean and spiteful responses to hurts, slights or attacks against me.
See, I really can fight back. Most of the time, I just choose not to. Two wrongs don't make a right, my mother told me, and sometimes even two rights don't make a right. Not if you argue them for the wrong reason.
What set me off yesterday had connections to past hurts and fear for the future. I want my grandchildren to grow up in a safe, secure world, and the world has really become a different place from the one I grew up in. I find myself questioning things more now than I ever have, and not liking the answers.
This is a much nicer rant than the deleted rant, where I named names and listed offenses that no one really needs to read about. The past is dead and gone; it's not my place to stage a resurrection. Even if it was, it would change nothing.
Now, I'm worried about crazy, stupid people in positions of high power who could potentially ruin the lives of my babies.
We should all be worried. We're in deep trouble here.
Here's what I took away from yesterday's rant and rip: Fear begets anger. Being frightened makes us angry.
I have a very vivid memory of the one time I remember my father being really angry with me. Sure, I got his goat from time to time, got grounded, got lectured. But this time, he was furious; he wouldn't even speak to me or look at me. Why? Because I scared him. I went off with a friend after school and didn't come home for hours, and no one knew where I was. He was terrified. When I got home, my mother cried, and my dad wouldn't speak to me. I couldn't say I was sorry enough. I cried and cried. He finally admitted that he was angry because his fear made him feel helpless, and he hugged me and all was forgiven.
But I never forgot it.
My kids, every one of them, have made me angry through fear at least once in their lives, and I'm sure that at some point in their lives they will experience that fear/anger as well.
Now I live with a low-burning fear in my gut a lot of the time, and it all has to do with things I have no control over: school shootings, child molesters.
Politicians.
I'm scared for all of us. It pisses me off.
Just so you know what I think...
Good-night.
11:22 p.m.
I wrote a thing yesterday, and I said what I was thinking and got it all off my chest.
Then I deleted it.
Look, I'm pretty devoted to keeping MeThinks positive and upbeat, and that was just not my mindset yesterday--or recently, for that matter (did you see my rant against Denver's RoxyTheatre? So not nice or upbeat!) Things were bleak, my friends. Bleak.
I was writing about things I don't actually care to share, because a stupid man said stupid things and made me remember all the other stupid men I've encountered and all the stupid things I've put up with from those stupid men. This because I was too young, or too scared or too stupid myself to put a quick and firm stop to it.
Apparently, I don't tolerate stupid well. Not anymore. I'm older, I'm wiser, I'm tougher and I'm just not going to take it anymore.
So I ranted and then I hit the delete button.
This is nothing new for me. I used to do this in a handwritten journal, and then tear the rant to shreds and throw it away. The delete button is neater, faster and saves paper.
I call this a bitch fest. It's been good for me over the years. I can yell, scream, cuss, give whoever needs a piece of my mind a severe tongue lashing--and no one gets their feelings hurt. I never have to say I'm sorry or try to take anything back. Just "DELETE". It's all off my chest and in the garbage.
I can't say for absolute sure who taught me to do this, but I'm nearly certain it was a Junior High English teacher who I loved a lot. He encouraged me to write in general, and I spent a lot of time talking to him. I confided that there were so many times people said or did hurtful things and I wished I could tell them what I thought of things, but I was scared, shy, or whatever. Just because my feelings had been hurt, I didn't really, truly want to hurt back. So he said, "Write down all the things you want to say. If you really have to, you can give the letter to the person you wrote to. Or you can tear it up and throw it away--the letter, the bad feelings, the whole thing."
It worked then. It works now. I have written dozens of letters over the years, telling so-and-so why such-and-such made me feel this-and-that. I got a lot of things off my chest. I let a lot of things go. I never delivered a single letter, but I always ended up feeling better once the shreds of paper hit the wastebasket.
I gotta say: DELETE is faster, less messy and saves paper, but ripping all those negative words to shreds can be oh-so-satisfying. I kind of missed out on that with yesterday's rant and rave.
I try, try, try not to be a grudge holder, because it seems that holding a grudge takes up too much of my energy and hurts no one but me. So why bother?
However, this is not to say that old hurts never re-surface. They do. Things happen, things are said, and old memories are triggered. I don't care who you are, how forgiving you can be--memories have a lot of power! Many--probably most--are wonderful and sweet and happy. Some have the power to bring you to tears decades after the fact. Some can make you angry all over again, even though you were sure you'd let it go.
This is also not to say that I have never done the rant and rave out loud and in person. Sadly, I have indeed lost my temper, said hurtful things and then wished with all my heart that I could go back in time and unsay them. Oh, how I hate the human side of me sometimes.
So the bitch-fest lives on, and it has saved many from the sharper side of my tongue, my quick, cynical wit and my sometimes downright mean and spiteful responses to hurts, slights or attacks against me.
See, I really can fight back. Most of the time, I just choose not to. Two wrongs don't make a right, my mother told me, and sometimes even two rights don't make a right. Not if you argue them for the wrong reason.
What set me off yesterday had connections to past hurts and fear for the future. I want my grandchildren to grow up in a safe, secure world, and the world has really become a different place from the one I grew up in. I find myself questioning things more now than I ever have, and not liking the answers.
This is a much nicer rant than the deleted rant, where I named names and listed offenses that no one really needs to read about. The past is dead and gone; it's not my place to stage a resurrection. Even if it was, it would change nothing.
Now, I'm worried about crazy, stupid people in positions of high power who could potentially ruin the lives of my babies.
We should all be worried. We're in deep trouble here.
Here's what I took away from yesterday's rant and rip: Fear begets anger. Being frightened makes us angry.
But I never forgot it.
My kids, every one of them, have made me angry through fear at least once in their lives, and I'm sure that at some point in their lives they will experience that fear/anger as well.
Now I live with a low-burning fear in my gut a lot of the time, and it all has to do with things I have no control over: school shootings, child molesters.
Politicians.
I'm scared for all of us. It pisses me off.
Just so you know what I think...
Good-night.
Monday, October 10, 2016
October 9, 2016
9:21 p.m.
Sometimes, when I'm feeling sick to my stomach, as I have for the past couple of days, I wonder if it's not a reaction to the political environment we've been subjected to for the past year.
(Maybe it really is--so far my doctors haven't found a difinitive answer!)
Whatever the cause, I can honestly say that this election is making me SICK!
What a freak show. Really. I grew up proud to be an American, and right now I want to tell strangers that I'm new to this place. This isn't even a lie--I AM new to this place. This is not the America I
grew up in.
I have children and grandchildren who are going to have to live and grow up in the environment that has been created here. I want to gather them up and run for the hills. Hide in the wilderness, build a windmill, plant some crops and hunt for deer.
(This is coming from a woman who is literally allergic to nature--I don't like it, but it's true--and who would prefer not to deal with meat before it's made available in the supermarket. I'll happily support my hunter friends' right to hunt, and just as happily share a steak with them, but I've never enjoyed the hunting myself. I'd rather stay in camp, make dinner and read, thanks.)
Having shared my little disclaimer, I would rather have to hunt for myself than live with some of the politicians we're entrusting with our futures.
And I am so, so sad right now knowing that people I thought were good Christians are endorsing a man who would call my daughters derogatory names, lust after my granddaughters and feel entitled to touch them without their permission. I have never heard such tripe in my life as the slurs this man has made against women. As a woman, a mother, a grandmother, etc., I have no tolerance for a man like this in any public place, let alone in the White House!
No one in public service has the right to call me, my daughters, my granddaughters or my friends fat pigs or suggest that we're too ugly to be whatever we want to be. He has no right to say that we have no right to protest sexual discrimination or sexual assault. He has no right to say that women deserve less pay than men because they will be less reliable due to needing to tend to their children. I personally held two and sometimes three jobs at a time while raising my children alone, and I was very reliable. And, by God, I raised some good kids!
God, I'm tired of this election. Talk about disappointments! (See my previous blog for more on disappointment.)
Thinking sad stuff. G'night!
9:21 p.m.
Sometimes, when I'm feeling sick to my stomach, as I have for the past couple of days, I wonder if it's not a reaction to the political environment we've been subjected to for the past year.
(Maybe it really is--so far my doctors haven't found a difinitive answer!)
Whatever the cause, I can honestly say that this election is making me SICK!
What a freak show. Really. I grew up proud to be an American, and right now I want to tell strangers that I'm new to this place. This isn't even a lie--I AM new to this place. This is not the America I
grew up in.
I have children and grandchildren who are going to have to live and grow up in the environment that has been created here. I want to gather them up and run for the hills. Hide in the wilderness, build a windmill, plant some crops and hunt for deer.
(This is coming from a woman who is literally allergic to nature--I don't like it, but it's true--and who would prefer not to deal with meat before it's made available in the supermarket. I'll happily support my hunter friends' right to hunt, and just as happily share a steak with them, but I've never enjoyed the hunting myself. I'd rather stay in camp, make dinner and read, thanks.)
Having shared my little disclaimer, I would rather have to hunt for myself than live with some of the politicians we're entrusting with our futures.
And I am so, so sad right now knowing that people I thought were good Christians are endorsing a man who would call my daughters derogatory names, lust after my granddaughters and feel entitled to touch them without their permission. I have never heard such tripe in my life as the slurs this man has made against women. As a woman, a mother, a grandmother, etc., I have no tolerance for a man like this in any public place, let alone in the White House!
No one in public service has the right to call me, my daughters, my granddaughters or my friends fat pigs or suggest that we're too ugly to be whatever we want to be. He has no right to say that we have no right to protest sexual discrimination or sexual assault. He has no right to say that women deserve less pay than men because they will be less reliable due to needing to tend to their children. I personally held two and sometimes three jobs at a time while raising my children alone, and I was very reliable. And, by God, I raised some good kids!
God, I'm tired of this election. Talk about disappointments! (See my previous blog for more on disappointment.)
Thinking sad stuff. G'night!
Wednesday, October 5, 2016
Life can be Disappointing, but you have to Try, Try Again
October 4, 2016
10:40 p.m.
Today I am going to pass on a bit a wisdom for the ages: You will be disappointed.
Your favorite t.v. show will disappoint you. Your favorite actors will disappoint you.
Religion and politics will disappoint you.
Businesses will disappoint you.
Your childhood crush will disappoint you.
Friends will disappoint you. Enemies will disappoint you. Total strangers will disappoint you.
Your parents will disappoint you.
Even your children will disappoint you.
No--especially your children will disappoint you.
But you know what? All those who have disappointed you have probably been disappointed by you, too.
Okay, subjectively, I'm wrong; not everyone you've been disappointed by has been disappointed by you. The actor didn't know you hated that movie. That guy doesn't know--not for certain (hopefully)--that you didn't vote for him. No one on the t.v. show can come over and blame you for the cancellation. The homeless guy you gave only a quarter to can't possibly know that you had a fifty dollar bill stashed in your sock.
Nonetheless, you have been a disappointment to someone; we all have.
There is no one among us who has been such a pillar of perfection that not one person in our lives will never say "that incident you were involved in disappointed me."
Said incident may have been as little as an argument with a sibling, or as big as an arrest for shoplifting. Maybe you called your grandma "fat" or broke the neighbor's window playing baseball and ran away instead of confessing and apologizing.
(No, I didn't do those things; I have my own list, and it is not a short one. I know perfectly well that I have been a disappointment to my parents, my siblings, my children, strangers. Ugh. I've also been a disappointment to myself on more that one occasion. [Like hundreds or thousands!])
Disappointment happens when something--or someone--fails to meet expectations.
Did you ever wake up on Christmas morning filled with excitement and anticipation? Santa should have made his annual visit, and left you the item you most desired. You'd written your letter, mailed it, prayed about it--but told no one. It was a secret between you and Santa. You just knew he'd never let you down; he was freaking Santa Claus!
There was plenty of excitement and there were plenty of gifts, but with each present you unwrapped, your disappointment grew. Where was it? How could Santa fail you like this?
Your parents weren't blind; they could see your bewilderment. They couldn't be blamed; you didn't tell them what you wanted. But seeing your disappointment, they blamed themselves. What did they leave out? How did they miss knowing?
Maybe, they suggested helplessly, your letter got lost in the mail. What was it that you wanted so much, anyway?
Oh, the bitterness of disappointment! It doesn't matter what the desired gift was; it wasn't there!
(FYI--it was a particular book, Those who know me are not surprised)
Now, as a grown up and a parent myself, I cannot even imagine my parents' own disappointment, but I know they felt it, because I know how I would have felt if it had been my sad child.
You may rest assured that at a future date, I got the book. I have no idea how they even found it, now that I know how hard that series is to find even today, in the wonderful world of the internet, but they got it for me. And a couple of others as well. God bless them.
The best part of this story isn't that I got the books, though, It's that I got the first one for my birthday a few months after that Chrisrmas, and the next Christmas I got two more, all clearly marked "From Mom and Dad". My Santa gift was something else entirely, God knows what. And I bought the "lost mail" story, because I wanted to believe, and I continued to want to believe for a couple more years. But I never anticipated another gift again, not with the complete faith in Santa that little children have. I'd been let down; that ship had sailed.
Clearly there was never any intent to disappoint; I got some really great gifts. I'd just placed my faith in something so strongly that I didn't even think to tell anyone real about my desires.
I'll tell you one thing, though. I hated it when my little sister started losing faith and claiming not to believe, because I still wanted to cling to the myth awhile longer. I was much more disappointed than she was when our parents finally told us the truth--not because I still truly believed, but because I truly wanted to.
I think that's true in a lot of cases where we end up disappointed--or disappointing. No one has clearly communicated their expectations.
I hope; I pray; I believe; everything I want and need will just happen as long as I do these three things.
If you love me you'll just know; I shouldn't have to tell you; read my mind.
It happens in friendships, it happens in love affairs, it happens in marriages. It happens with your parents and your children.
"You should have known," we say, or "He should have understood," or "If only I had said this, or done that."
It all comes down to expectations and disappointments.
If you are a sentient being with feelings, you know what I mean. You don't even have to be human! If I say the word "walk", the dogs will immediately be at my feet, staring up at me expectantly. I may have been talking about how my new shoes are making it hard for me to walk, but they just heard and understood "walk", and if I don't follow through, they are clearly disappointed.
(See, I even disappoint the pets!)
I have a point.
We all have to deal with disappointment. Whether we're feeling it or causing it, we have to deal with it. It's part of life.
I'm certain I disappointed my parents a lot; they wanted so much for me. They expected that I would go to college after graduating High School. I was going to be somebody, make a success of myself.
I didn't go to college after High School; I got married and had a bunch of kids.
My parents still loved me.
The marriage fell apart; disappointments galore! But I don't regret it; I have those beautiful children, and all the grandchildren they've given me.
And my parents still love me.
And you know what? I did go to college, and I am somebody, and I have succeeded in things--not all the things I thought I'd succeed in, but still...successes.
Even so, I have disappointed myself over and over: failed marriage, failed tests, bad decisions, you name it.
And there's nothing worse than hearing "I'm very disappointed in you." Honestly, it's worse than knowing you made someone angry, because they're going to get over that. Disappointment is harder to get over. You'll note that I remember my disappointment in Santa Claus, but I really don't remember what I last lost my temper over.
This is not to say that my disappointments in certain things have not made me angry; they have. Still, I'm more likely to say, "I'm so disappointed in you," than "You make me so mad," because frankly, I know it has a bigger impact.
Whoever it is I've said it to, they probably know it's something that will bother me for awhile. They know that if I'm just pissed off, it'll be "out of sight, out of mind" rather quickly. I don't often get angry, and those who know me know that. But I am as capable of being disappointed as anyone, and that's where things get rough.
However--just because I say to you, a person in my life whom I love: "I'm very disappointed in you," it will never, ever mean that I no longer love you. It means that I expect better things from you in the future and that I have faith in you that you are capable of delivering. I still love you.
If you are my friend and you disappoint me, you will still be my friend. I'm not unreasonable; I don't expect any person to be perfect, because I know that I'm certainly not perfect myself.
I also know that in the future we will disappoint each other again, because that's life.
We don't give up on each other just because of disappointments. Life goes on.
Get over it. Pick yourself up, brush yourself off and start all over again. Life never goes they way we plan, so get used to it.
You will be disappointed many times throughout your lifetime, but each disappointment is an opportunity for improvement.
My thoughts for now. Good night. Have yourself some not-at-all-disappointing dreams.
10:40 p.m.
Today I am going to pass on a bit a wisdom for the ages: You will be disappointed.
Your favorite t.v. show will disappoint you. Your favorite actors will disappoint you.
Religion and politics will disappoint you.
Businesses will disappoint you.
Your childhood crush will disappoint you.
Friends will disappoint you. Enemies will disappoint you. Total strangers will disappoint you.
Even your children will disappoint you.
No--especially your children will disappoint you.
But you know what? All those who have disappointed you have probably been disappointed by you, too.
Okay, subjectively, I'm wrong; not everyone you've been disappointed by has been disappointed by you. The actor didn't know you hated that movie. That guy doesn't know--not for certain (hopefully)--that you didn't vote for him. No one on the t.v. show can come over and blame you for the cancellation. The homeless guy you gave only a quarter to can't possibly know that you had a fifty dollar bill stashed in your sock.
Nonetheless, you have been a disappointment to someone; we all have.
There is no one among us who has been such a pillar of perfection that not one person in our lives will never say "that incident you were involved in disappointed me."
Said incident may have been as little as an argument with a sibling, or as big as an arrest for shoplifting. Maybe you called your grandma "fat" or broke the neighbor's window playing baseball and ran away instead of confessing and apologizing.
(No, I didn't do those things; I have my own list, and it is not a short one. I know perfectly well that I have been a disappointment to my parents, my siblings, my children, strangers. Ugh. I've also been a disappointment to myself on more that one occasion. [Like hundreds or thousands!])
Disappointment happens when something--or someone--fails to meet expectations.
Did you ever wake up on Christmas morning filled with excitement and anticipation? Santa should have made his annual visit, and left you the item you most desired. You'd written your letter, mailed it, prayed about it--but told no one. It was a secret between you and Santa. You just knew he'd never let you down; he was freaking Santa Claus!
There was plenty of excitement and there were plenty of gifts, but with each present you unwrapped, your disappointment grew. Where was it? How could Santa fail you like this?
Your parents weren't blind; they could see your bewilderment. They couldn't be blamed; you didn't tell them what you wanted. But seeing your disappointment, they blamed themselves. What did they leave out? How did they miss knowing?
Maybe, they suggested helplessly, your letter got lost in the mail. What was it that you wanted so much, anyway?
Oh, the bitterness of disappointment! It doesn't matter what the desired gift was; it wasn't there!
(FYI--it was a particular book, Those who know me are not surprised)
Now, as a grown up and a parent myself, I cannot even imagine my parents' own disappointment, but I know they felt it, because I know how I would have felt if it had been my sad child.
You may rest assured that at a future date, I got the book. I have no idea how they even found it, now that I know how hard that series is to find even today, in the wonderful world of the internet, but they got it for me. And a couple of others as well. God bless them.
The best part of this story isn't that I got the books, though, It's that I got the first one for my birthday a few months after that Chrisrmas, and the next Christmas I got two more, all clearly marked "From Mom and Dad". My Santa gift was something else entirely, God knows what. And I bought the "lost mail" story, because I wanted to believe, and I continued to want to believe for a couple more years. But I never anticipated another gift again, not with the complete faith in Santa that little children have. I'd been let down; that ship had sailed.
Clearly there was never any intent to disappoint; I got some really great gifts. I'd just placed my faith in something so strongly that I didn't even think to tell anyone real about my desires.
I'll tell you one thing, though. I hated it when my little sister started losing faith and claiming not to believe, because I still wanted to cling to the myth awhile longer. I was much more disappointed than she was when our parents finally told us the truth--not because I still truly believed, but because I truly wanted to.
I think that's true in a lot of cases where we end up disappointed--or disappointing. No one has clearly communicated their expectations.
I hope; I pray; I believe; everything I want and need will just happen as long as I do these three things.
If you love me you'll just know; I shouldn't have to tell you; read my mind.
It happens in friendships, it happens in love affairs, it happens in marriages. It happens with your parents and your children.
"You should have known," we say, or "He should have understood," or "If only I had said this, or done that."
It all comes down to expectations and disappointments.
If you are a sentient being with feelings, you know what I mean. You don't even have to be human! If I say the word "walk", the dogs will immediately be at my feet, staring up at me expectantly. I may have been talking about how my new shoes are making it hard for me to walk, but they just heard and understood "walk", and if I don't follow through, they are clearly disappointed.
(See, I even disappoint the pets!)
I have a point.
We all have to deal with disappointment. Whether we're feeling it or causing it, we have to deal with it. It's part of life.
I'm certain I disappointed my parents a lot; they wanted so much for me. They expected that I would go to college after graduating High School. I was going to be somebody, make a success of myself.
I didn't go to college after High School; I got married and had a bunch of kids.
My parents still loved me.
The marriage fell apart; disappointments galore! But I don't regret it; I have those beautiful children, and all the grandchildren they've given me.
And my parents still love me.
And you know what? I did go to college, and I am somebody, and I have succeeded in things--not all the things I thought I'd succeed in, but still...successes.
Even so, I have disappointed myself over and over: failed marriage, failed tests, bad decisions, you name it.
And there's nothing worse than hearing "I'm very disappointed in you." Honestly, it's worse than knowing you made someone angry, because they're going to get over that. Disappointment is harder to get over. You'll note that I remember my disappointment in Santa Claus, but I really don't remember what I last lost my temper over.
This is not to say that my disappointments in certain things have not made me angry; they have. Still, I'm more likely to say, "I'm so disappointed in you," than "You make me so mad," because frankly, I know it has a bigger impact.
Whoever it is I've said it to, they probably know it's something that will bother me for awhile. They know that if I'm just pissed off, it'll be "out of sight, out of mind" rather quickly. I don't often get angry, and those who know me know that. But I am as capable of being disappointed as anyone, and that's where things get rough.
However--just because I say to you, a person in my life whom I love: "I'm very disappointed in you," it will never, ever mean that I no longer love you. It means that I expect better things from you in the future and that I have faith in you that you are capable of delivering. I still love you.
If you are my friend and you disappoint me, you will still be my friend. I'm not unreasonable; I don't expect any person to be perfect, because I know that I'm certainly not perfect myself.
I also know that in the future we will disappoint each other again, because that's life.
We don't give up on each other just because of disappointments. Life goes on.
Get over it. Pick yourself up, brush yourself off and start all over again. Life never goes they way we plan, so get used to it.
You will be disappointed many times throughout your lifetime, but each disappointment is an opportunity for improvement.
My thoughts for now. Good night. Have yourself some not-at-all-disappointing dreams.
Tuesday, October 4, 2016
October 3, 2016
4:37 p.m.
Yesterday I took my granddaughters downtown to see a show at The Roxy Theatre in Denver, Colorado. The oldest is a huge fan of a Salice Rose, who is a YouTube/Instagram/Snapchat personality. I know nothing about her, really; not my thing. But, you know, the grands like her. So one granddaughter's aunt pitched on tickets and both moms pitched on tickets and I agreed to take them so they were supervised; no way are our babies going downtown alone. Not happening.
What a nightmare.
The Roxy Theatre in Denver is not my idea of a great venue. It's not even my idea of a good venue, actually. I suppose kids like it, but for anyone with a problem standing for hours on end--not a good idea. There's no seating. It's small; if it's as big as a High School auditorium, I'd be surprised. Uneven flooring, poor lighting. Not a great neighborhood, either. Frankly, it looks and feels like a venue for a rave, and I do not want to take my grandchildren to raves!!
Today, I wrote a couple of reviews, because I was very disappointed in having wasted time, money and energy on such a poorly executed program.
For the record, I'm a pretty nice person. I don't write bad reviews just because. It takes a lot to get me to go onto a venue's Facebook page and write:
"Terrible venue. Poor scheduling. Bad security. Rude bartender. All around bad experience. Never go."
I figured short and simple should be sufficient. However, for some reason, they were compelled to answer me:
"Which show was it that you attended where you had a bad time? We always strive to make sure everyone has a great time when they come to the Roxy. As far as scheduling goes please let me know which show you're referring to because some of the events that take place are by outside promoters who may of changed their production around. I would love to know who was rude to you so I can address this with them. I will personally speak with anyone of the employees that were rude to you to ensure that the people who come after you do not encounter the same issues."
Okay, nice. It's good to know that they want to know what happened, at least. I'd like to know myself. So, since they asked, I opened the whole can of worms and told them what happened. Because, jeez! Fix this! No one wants to spend time and money, and get this:
"My granddaughters wanted to see Salice Rose, so we went all out and got VIP tickets to her show--a show she NEVER got on stage for. This was advertised on your website as an "all ages" show. By that I assumed that it would be age appropriate for anyone. Not the case! There were several different rappers there in a room filled with a lot of kids, some younger than 12 years old, rapping with very foul-language and sexual lyrics. None of them were actually performing--they were singing, chanting, whatever, with the DJ's pre-recorded material, and half the time didn't seem to even know all the words. Act after act like that appeared, each promising Salice would soon take the stage; she NEVER did--at least not for the VIP ticket holders. Suddenly, after again being promised that Salice would be on stage, a whispered conversation took place between the DJ and some others while the "last song" was being shouted incoherently, and then it was announced that in order to speed up the meet and greet, all VIP ticket holders were to exit the building and go back outside and line up AGAIN--after already waiting in line for over 2 hours. Understand that those closest to the stage--those who arrived early and waited the longest to get inside in the first place--would now be the last out of the building and therefore the last in line! All this without having so much as a glimpse of the headliner they came to see. When I pay $40. a pop for tickets, I expect to see the performer I paid to see actually perform. Whether or not Salice Rose came out after the VIPs exited the building to at least wave at the General Admissions crowd, I have no way of knowing. All I know is that at some point, she was brought outside the back of the building by security, and herded around to the front door through the crowd. If she did any type of performance at all in there for the General Admissions crowd, it was short. As for the VIPS? What? Circling the building is a performance? Nope. At this point there was a lot of pushing and shoving, shouting and yes, crying going on. To say that these kids were disappointed would be an understatement. Then security threatened that if they didn't control their line, no one was going to get back in. To the credit of the CROWD, not the security team, they did indeed control their line. These kids really wanted to at least meet Salice Rose. If this was indeed something that was arranged by an outside promoter, then you should take care never to use them again. These kids expected to see who they came to see. It was a Salice Rose event. They paid to see her! $40. is a lot to pay and then only get see a bunch of really bad rappers they didn't even recognize. I understand the concept of opening acts; short performance followed by long performance by the HEADLINER. And yes, I understand they got to meet her--IF they were VIP ticket holders--but they expected to see her ON STAGE, talking about what she does, doing her thing. The audience for this event was really young, and may not have the experience to know that they were cheated out of a quality show, but I'm an old lady who knows better, and I call foul! This was ridiculous. I don't care if it was an outside promoter--ultimately, it is the ROXY who is responsible for such a poorly executed event. It was a waste of time and money. Also, as a disabled patron, it would have been helpful to know that you have next to nothing in the way of seating. Your website does not indicate that there is no seating. As for rudeness, I don't know who your bartender is, but "What do you want?" is no way to greet a patron. Common courtesy. It goes a long way. I'm VERY disappointed."
And then, because I'm still feeling burned--not to mention that my feet and knees are really, really painful today from all the standing around, getting shoved by teenagers, etc.--I went and wrote this review on Yelp.com:
"Yesterday I took my granddaughters to The Roxy Theatre to see a Salice Rose show. Instead, we were subjected to a number of really bad rap performers who basically tried to out-yell the pre-recorded material the DJ was playing. Most of them didn't know all the so-called lyrics. A show promoted as "all ages" was filled with profane and sexual lyrics, crotch grabbing and all-around no-talent performances. (The audience was pre-teen to teen; very few adults.) The headliner, Salice Rose, never took the stage, at least not for the VIP ticket holders, who were suddenly asked to leave the building and line up AGAIN outside to come back inside for the meet and greet. Therefore, those who had arrived early, waited in line longest and were nearest the stage were now the last to leave the building and the last in line. I have no idea if she at least said hello or something to the general admissions patrons who were left inside. $40. for VIP, and no performance by the headliner? Disgraceful. No seating--as a disabled patron, that would have been good to know, but it's not mentioned on the website. I will never go back, and will never recommend this place to anyone.Terrible."
Do I kind of feel like a mean person now? Yeah, sort of. But not enough of one to delete or take back anything I've said. Because it's true! No one wants to spend a lot of time and money for something and then not get what they paid for! Right?
And you know, it's easy to pass the buck and claim that the other guy--the outside promoters--did it. Maybe they did, but ultimatly, the business is responsible. It is their reputation on the line--the outside promoter left town, man. Took the money and ran! Now the business gets to deal with any backlash.
If there even is any backlash. Like I said in my rant to the venue, this was a really young audience. There were a few parents at the show but mostly Moms and Dads were there dropping off and picking up. It was a daytime event, and I suppose they felt it was safe to do so. (Not me, though. I am not leaving any of mine in that sketchy neighborhood!) I do think if they had known that their kids were going to be told that they had to get out of the building and line up outside a second time, they never would have agreed to leave them there on their own. I know that if I had agreed to leave and come back for my kids and then found out about that part of the program, I would have been furious! It's bad enough having to wait in line for a couple of hours to get in, but to be forced to do it twice for the same event? Ridiculous!
But again--young audience. For many, it may have been the first event they'd been allowed to attend. How do you judge a good performance from a bad one with little to no experience? They might figure it's par for the course and never complain. So what the heck--I'll complain for them.
I don't want to cast too much blame on Salice Rose; she may possibly have little influence on her schedulers. She's not a "star", in the broadest definition of the word. She may have been backstage saying, "But what about me?" How do I know? She was very nice to the girls when they finally got to meet her. They received a photograph of her and were allowed to take one picture--"One picture, one shot, keep it moving!"--with her. but no autographs unless you paid extra. Was that her idea? Again, I don't know. But after disappointing everyone who had come to see her on stage, you'd think she could have insisted on doing at least that for everyone, free of charge.
Nope. No one apologized, no one went out of their way to make things better, no one offered any sort of explanation--nothing.
I personally feel that this young woman owes her fans an apology; promoters aside, it is her reputation that will take any hits. There were a lot of kids there; some were still just happy to meet their idol, but I was in line a long time, and I heard a lot of talk about "unfollowing" and "unfriending". Kids talk. Talk has the potential to make or break. It could get ugly. Someone should step up, admit that mistakes were made and try to make it better. And it should be done as quickly as possible. Teenage girls are a force to be reckoned with. Just saying.
October 4, 2016
12:54 a.m.
I don't like writing bad reviews. I'd rather hope that businesses will work to resolve issues, but as of this time, having submitted to the business my explanation for the bad review, I have heard nothing back from the venue. They've had eight hours.
Yeah, they're probably busy.
Too bad. I've avoided posting this all day. I'm saving now and hoping for some sort of response in the morning. Then we shall see if this gets post, edited, or whatever.
October 4, 2016
8:44 p.m.
More than twenty-four hours have passed, and there has been no response from The Roxy Theatre in Denver. As far as I'm concerned, they've had more than enough time to respond to my post and offer some sort of explanation for the event failures.
I saw only one other bad review regarding this event on their Facebook page--can I be the only person who was appalled by this fiasco? Can that really be true?
Unbelievable!
Whatever. I'm still burning up over having spent a great deal of money--there were three of us with VIP tickets--and over six hours of my valuable time on a venue that didn't deliver what was paid for. I don't appreciate seeing my grandchildren disappointed in any way. So I am posting this and letting the chips fall where they may.
Paula thinks that businesses should take care of their paying customers!
And...goodnight.
4:37 p.m.
Yesterday I took my granddaughters downtown to see a show at The Roxy Theatre in Denver, Colorado. The oldest is a huge fan of a Salice Rose, who is a YouTube/Instagram/Snapchat personality. I know nothing about her, really; not my thing. But, you know, the grands like her. So one granddaughter's aunt pitched on tickets and both moms pitched on tickets and I agreed to take them so they were supervised; no way are our babies going downtown alone. Not happening.
What a nightmare.
The Roxy Theatre in Denver is not my idea of a great venue. It's not even my idea of a good venue, actually. I suppose kids like it, but for anyone with a problem standing for hours on end--not a good idea. There's no seating. It's small; if it's as big as a High School auditorium, I'd be surprised. Uneven flooring, poor lighting. Not a great neighborhood, either. Frankly, it looks and feels like a venue for a rave, and I do not want to take my grandchildren to raves!!
Today, I wrote a couple of reviews, because I was very disappointed in having wasted time, money and energy on such a poorly executed program.
For the record, I'm a pretty nice person. I don't write bad reviews just because. It takes a lot to get me to go onto a venue's Facebook page and write:
"Terrible venue. Poor scheduling. Bad security. Rude bartender. All around bad experience. Never go."
I figured short and simple should be sufficient. However, for some reason, they were compelled to answer me:
"Which show was it that you attended where you had a bad time? We always strive to make sure everyone has a great time when they come to the Roxy. As far as scheduling goes please let me know which show you're referring to because some of the events that take place are by outside promoters who may of changed their production around. I would love to know who was rude to you so I can address this with them. I will personally speak with anyone of the employees that were rude to you to ensure that the people who come after you do not encounter the same issues."
Okay, nice. It's good to know that they want to know what happened, at least. I'd like to know myself. So, since they asked, I opened the whole can of worms and told them what happened. Because, jeez! Fix this! No one wants to spend time and money, and get this:
"My granddaughters wanted to see Salice Rose, so we went all out and got VIP tickets to her show--a show she NEVER got on stage for. This was advertised on your website as an "all ages" show. By that I assumed that it would be age appropriate for anyone. Not the case! There were several different rappers there in a room filled with a lot of kids, some younger than 12 years old, rapping with very foul-language and sexual lyrics. None of them were actually performing--they were singing, chanting, whatever, with the DJ's pre-recorded material, and half the time didn't seem to even know all the words. Act after act like that appeared, each promising Salice would soon take the stage; she NEVER did--at least not for the VIP ticket holders. Suddenly, after again being promised that Salice would be on stage, a whispered conversation took place between the DJ and some others while the "last song" was being shouted incoherently, and then it was announced that in order to speed up the meet and greet, all VIP ticket holders were to exit the building and go back outside and line up AGAIN--after already waiting in line for over 2 hours. Understand that those closest to the stage--those who arrived early and waited the longest to get inside in the first place--would now be the last out of the building and therefore the last in line! All this without having so much as a glimpse of the headliner they came to see. When I pay $40. a pop for tickets, I expect to see the performer I paid to see actually perform. Whether or not Salice Rose came out after the VIPs exited the building to at least wave at the General Admissions crowd, I have no way of knowing. All I know is that at some point, she was brought outside the back of the building by security, and herded around to the front door through the crowd. If she did any type of performance at all in there for the General Admissions crowd, it was short. As for the VIPS? What? Circling the building is a performance? Nope. At this point there was a lot of pushing and shoving, shouting and yes, crying going on. To say that these kids were disappointed would be an understatement. Then security threatened that if they didn't control their line, no one was going to get back in. To the credit of the CROWD, not the security team, they did indeed control their line. These kids really wanted to at least meet Salice Rose. If this was indeed something that was arranged by an outside promoter, then you should take care never to use them again. These kids expected to see who they came to see. It was a Salice Rose event. They paid to see her! $40. is a lot to pay and then only get see a bunch of really bad rappers they didn't even recognize. I understand the concept of opening acts; short performance followed by long performance by the HEADLINER. And yes, I understand they got to meet her--IF they were VIP ticket holders--but they expected to see her ON STAGE, talking about what she does, doing her thing. The audience for this event was really young, and may not have the experience to know that they were cheated out of a quality show, but I'm an old lady who knows better, and I call foul! This was ridiculous. I don't care if it was an outside promoter--ultimately, it is the ROXY who is responsible for such a poorly executed event. It was a waste of time and money. Also, as a disabled patron, it would have been helpful to know that you have next to nothing in the way of seating. Your website does not indicate that there is no seating. As for rudeness, I don't know who your bartender is, but "What do you want?" is no way to greet a patron. Common courtesy. It goes a long way. I'm VERY disappointed."
And then, because I'm still feeling burned--not to mention that my feet and knees are really, really painful today from all the standing around, getting shoved by teenagers, etc.--I went and wrote this review on Yelp.com:
"Yesterday I took my granddaughters to The Roxy Theatre to see a Salice Rose show. Instead, we were subjected to a number of really bad rap performers who basically tried to out-yell the pre-recorded material the DJ was playing. Most of them didn't know all the so-called lyrics. A show promoted as "all ages" was filled with profane and sexual lyrics, crotch grabbing and all-around no-talent performances. (The audience was pre-teen to teen; very few adults.) The headliner, Salice Rose, never took the stage, at least not for the VIP ticket holders, who were suddenly asked to leave the building and line up AGAIN outside to come back inside for the meet and greet. Therefore, those who had arrived early, waited in line longest and were nearest the stage were now the last to leave the building and the last in line. I have no idea if she at least said hello or something to the general admissions patrons who were left inside. $40. for VIP, and no performance by the headliner? Disgraceful. No seating--as a disabled patron, that would have been good to know, but it's not mentioned on the website. I will never go back, and will never recommend this place to anyone.Terrible."
Do I kind of feel like a mean person now? Yeah, sort of. But not enough of one to delete or take back anything I've said. Because it's true! No one wants to spend a lot of time and money for something and then not get what they paid for! Right?
And you know, it's easy to pass the buck and claim that the other guy--the outside promoters--did it. Maybe they did, but ultimatly, the business is responsible. It is their reputation on the line--the outside promoter left town, man. Took the money and ran! Now the business gets to deal with any backlash.
If there even is any backlash. Like I said in my rant to the venue, this was a really young audience. There were a few parents at the show but mostly Moms and Dads were there dropping off and picking up. It was a daytime event, and I suppose they felt it was safe to do so. (Not me, though. I am not leaving any of mine in that sketchy neighborhood!) I do think if they had known that their kids were going to be told that they had to get out of the building and line up outside a second time, they never would have agreed to leave them there on their own. I know that if I had agreed to leave and come back for my kids and then found out about that part of the program, I would have been furious! It's bad enough having to wait in line for a couple of hours to get in, but to be forced to do it twice for the same event? Ridiculous!
But again--young audience. For many, it may have been the first event they'd been allowed to attend. How do you judge a good performance from a bad one with little to no experience? They might figure it's par for the course and never complain. So what the heck--I'll complain for them.
I don't want to cast too much blame on Salice Rose; she may possibly have little influence on her schedulers. She's not a "star", in the broadest definition of the word. She may have been backstage saying, "But what about me?" How do I know? She was very nice to the girls when they finally got to meet her. They received a photograph of her and were allowed to take one picture--"One picture, one shot, keep it moving!"--with her. but no autographs unless you paid extra. Was that her idea? Again, I don't know. But after disappointing everyone who had come to see her on stage, you'd think she could have insisted on doing at least that for everyone, free of charge.
Nope. No one apologized, no one went out of their way to make things better, no one offered any sort of explanation--nothing.
I personally feel that this young woman owes her fans an apology; promoters aside, it is her reputation that will take any hits. There were a lot of kids there; some were still just happy to meet their idol, but I was in line a long time, and I heard a lot of talk about "unfollowing" and "unfriending". Kids talk. Talk has the potential to make or break. It could get ugly. Someone should step up, admit that mistakes were made and try to make it better. And it should be done as quickly as possible. Teenage girls are a force to be reckoned with. Just saying.
October 4, 2016
12:54 a.m.
I don't like writing bad reviews. I'd rather hope that businesses will work to resolve issues, but as of this time, having submitted to the business my explanation for the bad review, I have heard nothing back from the venue. They've had eight hours.
Yeah, they're probably busy.
Too bad. I've avoided posting this all day. I'm saving now and hoping for some sort of response in the morning. Then we shall see if this gets post, edited, or whatever.
October 4, 2016
8:44 p.m.
More than twenty-four hours have passed, and there has been no response from The Roxy Theatre in Denver. As far as I'm concerned, they've had more than enough time to respond to my post and offer some sort of explanation for the event failures.
I saw only one other bad review regarding this event on their Facebook page--can I be the only person who was appalled by this fiasco? Can that really be true?
Unbelievable!
Whatever. I'm still burning up over having spent a great deal of money--there were three of us with VIP tickets--and over six hours of my valuable time on a venue that didn't deliver what was paid for. I don't appreciate seeing my grandchildren disappointed in any way. So I am posting this and letting the chips fall where they may.
Paula thinks that businesses should take care of their paying customers!
And...goodnight.
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