I know they can’t control people who obviously feel so terrible about themselves that they use this as their outlet to abuse other users, but boy would Twitter be a nicer place to be if they did the things suggested in this article I linked to below. I have never seen people behave in public the way that abusive users behave online, because I’m sure they know it’s socially unacceptable and would never do it. Obviously, they feel their “freedom of expression” means people have no choice but to listen to them. If they said these things in public, people would just turn around and walk away from them. On the internet, they know it’s harder for people to tune them out. At the moment on Twitter, the only choice is to ignore it or spend way too much time reporting them, or find a third party software to help maintain what we don’t want or need to see. Just having a way to mass control the @ mentions would be huge! Also, to be able to report a hashtag so Twitter could just see all the @ mentions coming from the hashtag and going toward one user (like the hundreds at a time I would get) so they can monitor the abuse all at once instead of the user needing to report each account individually. Because you know what keeps me away? It’s all the people who don’t follow me but do follow a hashtag and see where everyone is being shitty, then show up in my mentions to be part of the problem for the sake of being part of something, and I was tired of giving them a platform to access me to do this. If you want to be part of something, do yourself a favor and be part of a charity organization or volunteering to help people or animals in need. THAT is something you can be part of that actually does some good.

Article at slate.com

*Sidenote: I have received several emails from people who think I am back on Twitter because they can see my profile again. I am not using Twitter at all. I just locked my account so my user name isn’t released to the public.

This morning I woke up and realized I will be in Florida one month from today, along with hundreds and hundreds of nerds, about to embark on the 6th annual JocoCruiseCrazy. If you’ve never been, I highly recommend it. And if you’ve wanted to go but didn’t want to go to the Caribbean, they just made an announcement for 2017 that I bet you’re going to love!

One of the ports on the last two cruises was to Haiti. It’s a really pretty place but there’s one thing I hadn’t thought of until AFTER the first cruise there. When you visit a third world country such as this one, you can’t donate blood for a year after the date you return home. This means I haven’t been able to donate for TWO YEARS. I was really disappointed because although I don’t donate blood as often as I could, I did always make sure to do it on or near my birthday because celebrating the years I’ve been alive is a reminder that there are so many people whose life may depend on getting a blood transfusion. The best gift, I feel, is to give to these people in need.

If you have never donated red blood cells, plasma, or platelets before, here are a few facts (According to the American Red Cross) about it that may help you to understand how much it helps others:

-Every two seconds, someone in the U.S. needs blood.

-One donation can save up to three people.

-Approximately 41,000 donations are needed every day.

-A healthy donor may donate platelets every 7 days, up to a maximum of 24 times a year.

-A healthy donor may donate red blood cells every 56 days.

-Only nine percent of people in the U.S. have O negative blood type. O negative blood type donors are universal donors as their blood type can be given to people of all blood types.

-Three percent of people in the U.S. have AB positive blood type (THAT’S ME!!). AB positive donors are universal donors of plasma, which is often used in emergencies, for newborns and for patients requiring massive transfusions.

If you’re a healthy person who is able to donate blood, I highly recommend doing so. And if  you attended the last JoCo cruise, you are finally able to donate as of February 8th! There are wonderful organizations that are able to take your donation. Just use the handy tool called the internet and find a place near you. I choose to donate to City of Hope in Duarte, CA. They saved the life of my friend who has leukemia and I know the patients there are people like her, who need life saving blood, plasma, platelets, and bone marrow donations from healthy people like me. If you’re interested in becoming a bone marrow donor,  you can go here and follow the easy steps on how to get on the national registry. I haven’t been matched with anyone yet, but I really hope I get the opportunity someday!

Several years ago, Wil signed up with this thing called Twitter. He joined it on the third day of its release at the encouragement of our friend, Sean Bonner. Sean could tell it was going to change the world, and he was right.

The world became a smaller place thanks to Twitter. Soon, Wil was in touch with friends from all over the world on a daily basis and got to meet new people along the way. Wil loved saying funny things or making up jokes to post there and after a few years, it seemed like a fun thing to do so I joined it as well.

In the four years since I joined Twitter I learned a lot. I discovered a whole community of people I had never met before but had a shared interest in the same things I loved. I made friends in real life with many people I had only interacted with online, and that was really cool. I told silly jokes and shared the joy I found in the little things in life. Then for the first time back in April, I discovered a whole other community of people I would never have around me in real life because they were pretty terrible. It was at that time that I had to use the mute and/or block feature and had to report dozens and dozens of accounts. In the years before then, I think I had muted maybe a handful of people. That was really a bummer for me, but I tried to just focus on the fun of it all and stayed on it. I also liked to be on Twitter to read about important news events or to have discussions with sensible people about things that mattered to me; working with charities, my love of rescue animals, women’s health, being a mom, a wife, etc. I continued to focus on the positive, even ending 2015 by asking people to tell me about awesome stuff that happened to them that year, and getting back hundreds of wonderful responses. I loved that and tried to hold onto that in staying on the social media site.

In real life, I stand up for myself. If someone says or does something to me or someone around me, I do something about it. As my online presence grew,  there were people who don’t follow me showing up to say something horrible about me, my husband, or my children. Yes, they can be muted, blocked, or reported, and I was doing that all the time, every day. Sometimes I responded because like I said, in real life I stand up for myself so occasionally, I will do that online. But after a while, it’s like trying to smile and have a pleasant conversation with a kind person in a room full of people screaming hateful things in your face. You can ignore it but eventually, it just isn’t worth even talking at all and you just have to walk out of that room to protect yourself.

I chose to be on Twitter. I am not a celebrity. I am a middle-aged woman who’s a retired hairdresser who now runs a non-profit, is on the Board of Directors at Pasadena Humane Society, has a house FULL of rescue animals, and has two wonderful boys. I do not have a job I need to promote, nor am I looking for a job to take on. I have a full life with an amazing husband and family, wonderful friends, and a successful business I run. If something I choose to do on the side isn’t fun, I need to walk away from it because my free time is pretty scarce. Twitter used to be the fun thing I did on the side, and for the most part, it just isn’t fun anymore, so I need to walk away from it and that’s okay.

I deleted my Twitter account last night and immediately felt relieved. I will miss the tweety buddies who were awesome that I don’t know in real life. I will continue to stay in touch with my friends around the world by phone or by my private Facebook account. Instagram has been fun so far so I’m keeping that for now, but when it isn’t fun anymore, that will go too. I like having a blog but who knows if I’ll keep this around. We’ll see. Life is what we make of it. I want my life to be filled with happiness, surrounded by people I love. It doesn’t need to be about awful people having access to me online and labeling it as “freedom of speech” which is why I removed that from my life. We don’t know how long we have on this Earth so I’d like to maximize my time with things that are positive. I think that is time well spent.

I’m not a New Year’s resolution kind of person. I even wrote about why I don’t make resolutions here once before. But as each year comes to an end, I do think about all the things that happened during the last twelve months. Yes, every year has its ups and downs, its good times and bad, and is always filled with challenges. Some challenges may be personal, some professional, some feel out of our control, and some challenges we’re excited to face because it means moving forward in our lives for something better.

I have written many times about my own struggles from being a very young, single mom putting myself through school so I could have a future for myself and my two boys, to health concerns, changing careers, and even panic attacks in public. It’s all part of what makes us who we are. It’s life.

Each year I continue to grow as a person. I learn more about myself and have definitely felt more empowered at the choices I’ve made in my life to get me to where I am now. I’m looking forward to 2016 and what it has to offer.

“Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid.”

Happy holidays from Team Wheaton!

The first time it happened, I was 15 years old. I was walking the 3 miles home from my high school along a busy road when a guy in his 20s rode up behind me on his bicycle, grabbed my butt really hard, then continued riding up the road. Startled because I didn’t see or hear him coming, I said nothing at first. Anger took over but he was far up the road by the time I could react, which was to yell “FUCK YOU!” A lot of good that did. He got what he wanted and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. I’m sure he just laughed and continued doing that to other young girls over the years.

The second time, I was 18 and working in a local deli. I’d been there for about 3 weeks when this one happened. It was an evening shift. The manager, a 32 year old married man who had a 6 month old daughter, rubbed his crotch up against me at the cash register. Stunned, I pretended to ignore it and worked my way over to the salad bar to busily clean it. Before I knew what was happening, the manager was behind me. Directly behind me. He reached his arm around me to pick up the tongs from the salad bar, rubbing up against me again. This time, terrified, I stepped back and told him I had a boyfriend and wasn’t interested. His response? He fired me, claiming I wasn’t a good employee and he was pretty sure the money missing from the cash register had something to do with me. I had no idea what he was talking about, but this accusation scared me and I never reported him. Who could I tell? It was late, and there was only the dishwasher dude in the back who didn’t witness any of this. I set my apron on the counter and started to leave. On the way out, he told me not to come back in there again. He would just mail me my last paycheck. I never set foot in that place after that night.

When I was 24, I worked in a restaurant in Pasadena. One evening, one of the busboys, a 45 year old married man with 3 kids, grabbed my arm and turned me around and held me there as if I were on display. He was speaking Spanish so I didn’t know what he said to the other 2 busboys, but I turned around to see they were “admiring” my butt and smiling in agreement with whatever he said to them. Terrified, I yanked my arm away and found the manager to complain. His response? He laughed it off, didn’t file an official report, but did ask that busboy to apologize to me. He never did. He just refused to work with me during my shift and they allowed it. I needed the job so badly that I stayed almost 2 more years and just never made eye contact or spoke to that busboy again.

Then there was the time a man almost cut me off on the freeway so I honked at him, worried it was because he didn’t see me there. Apparently this bothered him, so he slowed to my speed and drove next to me for about a mile. I finally looked over at him and saw he was making gestures as if he were masturbating while watching me drive. It was then that I realized men who behave like this, as well as all of these other instances , do these things as a way to assert control over women. I decided I needed to show men who do this that these behaviors in no way scare me or make me feel like they are in control of me. Instead of trying to speed away, I looked directly at the man, and laughed. Oh, did I laugh. This infuriated him and he quickly sped away, flipping me off out the window as he took off down the freeway.

Over the years, men have continued to whistle, cat-call, and yell vulgar things out of a car window as they drive by me . It happens at least twice a week, if not more. If these men are near me (say, at a construction site or at a stop light) I always look right at them and say “NOPE!” or just laugh at them, and they immediately stop. It feels good to stand up for myself now after all those years of being too afraid to.

Last night, Wil and I were at the Kings game at Staples Center. It’s in the heart of downtown and the panhandlers are always out in full force amongst the crowd when we arrive and when we leave. It doesn’t feel especially safe down there so for the most part, I usually just walk quickly and look at the ground to navigate getting through the crowd. As we were going through the crosswalk (Wil was about 5 feet away from me so I guess it looked like I was by myself) a man in a wheelchair was approaching me. He didn’t appear to need the wheelchair, considering he was navigating himself around by both feet while he used one hand to wave in people’s faces and the other hand was shaking a large plastic cup with coins in it asking for money, but that’s beside the point. I was looking down when he put this cup near me and when I politely said “not today” and kept walking, he whistled at me and made kissing noises. Wil and I both stopped dead in our tracks and looked back at him and yelled “REALLY?” as he just stared at us as if he couldn’t believe we said something back. I was mad and said “This is all you get, pal” and held my hand straight out in front of me in a thumbs down gesture. I know. Dumb. But at the time, I wanted to stand up for myself and that’s the first thing that came to mind.

On our drive home, I thought back to all these instances I wrote here (and countless other ones that just become more of the same story) and wondered why some men behave this way. I know not all men are like this but I am fairly certain all women experience this at least once in their lives. I’ve heard men brush off these comments and/or gestures as “You should take it as a compliment” which is so odd to me considering these are not said in a kind, considerate, complimentary way. Who raised these men to think women want to be treated this way? Ugh.

I am grateful for the two young men we have raised who don’t treat women this way. Teaching kindness, compassion, and respect for others goes a long way in putting adults out into the world who can balance out the yuck. We just need more of them out there, so if you’re a parent of a boy, please teach them well. Our society needs it.

About a month ago, Wil and I launched our new book, A Guide To Being A Dog by Seamus Wheaton. If you haven’t seen it yet, here it is!

The book is compiled of silly tweets Wil wrote over the last year as if Seamus were giving advice on how to be a dog. I thought it would be really cute if Seamus said these things to our younger dog, Marlowe, seeing as how she is newer to our house. I then had our artist friend, Lar deSouza, illustrate it and it turned out SO CUTE. If you’d like a copy for yourself, they will be available through our foundation until October 20, 2015. We are donating the proceeds to the Pasadena Humane Society and SPCA and so far, it’s raised over $26,000 for them. Hooray!! https://www.increaseawesome.org/2015/09/07/a-guide-to-being-a-dog-by-seamus-wheaton/

The other thing we thought would be really fun would be to host our very first charity event to support this new book release, along with some yummy extras that we love. At this event, attendees will be able to try w00tstout, the beer Wil collaborated on with Drew Curtis, Aisha Tyler, and Stone Brewing Company, and get to keep the adorable glass it’s served in that has a scaled-down version of Seamus’ paw print engraved on it. You’ll also get a copy of A Guide To Being A Dog by Seamus Wheaton with his PAWTOGRAPH (that’s right, I said that) because we had a stamp made of his paw print! Wil and I will sign it for you as well, if you’d like. The event will be held at Crossings Restaurant in South Pasadena where they will be serving all kinds of tasty Kobe beef sliders and fries for dinner (soak up that w00tstout, baby!) and ice cream sliders for dessert. SO MUCH YUM.

We are so excited to do this event (it was originally scheduled for September 22nd but due to a delay in receiving the books from the printer, we rescheduled to October 20th) and hope you can make it so we can hang out and have burgers and beer together. And the best part, proceeds from this event will be donated by Crossings to the Pasadena Humane Society and SPCA as well. Everyone wins! Information on the event can be found here.https://www.increaseawesome.org/2015/09/09/fancy-dinner-burgers-beer-a-book/

Making this book and preparing to host an event has been so much fun to do. For those who are unable to attend but have ordered a book online, I am dropping off our first shipment of them today. Yay! We appreciate your patience while we’ve been setting this up. Our foundation does not have a staff, it’s just me and Wil and our dining room as our shipping department. No staff to pay means maximum funds available to support charities we love. Thank you for your donation and we hope you enjoy the book!

Yesterday, Wil and I took Marlowe to the annual Wiggle Waggle Walk that’s put on by the Pasadena Humane Society. In the past, we have tried taking Seamus but he prefers to just plop himself on the pavement and watch the people and dogs pass by, so he stays home and snoozes on the sofa while we participate with Marlowe.

We do this event to support PHS because they do so much to help all animals (including wildlife) in need. Not just for Pasadena, but for nine surrounding cities. They rescued our dogs as strays off the streets and because of that, we were able to meet and adopt two of the greatest additions to our family. For that, we are forever grateful.

Yesterday afternoon, Wil and I were walking up our street when we saw a squirrel dart in front of us and race up a nearby tree. We watched her jump through the branches and then heard what sounded like baby birds squawking. As we approached the yard the tree was in, we discovered the squawking was actually four baby squirrels who were on the lawn below the tree branches, making noises to their mom because they had all just fallen out of their nest. All four of these tiny, hairless babies appeared unhurt, but with unopened eyes and all in different spots on the ground, they were obviously scared. Concerned about being exposed to possible predators on the leaf-covered lawn, Wil scooped up three of them and I picked up the fourth. The little guy in my hands held onto me with his tiny little feet, and tried crawling around, as if to find his siblings. He made the squawking noises again, so I rubbed his tiny head to calm him down and had to REALLY resist the urge to kiss his face. But then you know, the thought of plague and fleas and common sense kicked in, so I didn’t. He calmed down briefly, but I knew he was scared because he was alone in my hands, so I put him in Wil’s hands with the others. Being all together, they immediately calmed down and the mom, still up in the tree, watched and squawked at them so they would know she was nearby.

We recently had a momma opossum in our backyard who was walking on our wall when my dog saw her and raced out to bark at her. She took off running, dropping a couple of her babies that were holding onto her into our yard. We got our dogs inside and heard the mom rustling in the bushes when she heard her babies crying. We hoped she would come back for them, but she ended up taking off, so we found a local person who took in the babies and bottle-fed them until they were big enough to be released. Unsure if squirrels would do the same thing, I decided to run home and grab a box so we could put the four baby squirrels into it and tuck it up into the tree, safely out of harm’s way in the hopes the mom would come get them and take them back to her nest.

The momma squirrel sat up in the tree, watching what we were doing. After securely tucking the box into the tree, we sat on the curb across the street to see what the mom would do. I had decided that if she wasn’t going to retrieve them, I didn’t want to just leave them there to die, and if she did come get them, I wanted to take the box down so that neighbor wouldn’t come home and wonder why the hell there was an empty box in their tree. The mom looked over at us, and then cautiously came down the tree and looked in the box. She peered in at different angles and looked over at us one more time before climbing in, grabbing a baby, and running back up the tree with it. But she didn’t take them into the nest they fell out of. She ran to the top of the tree and then JUMPED with the baby in her mouth to a tree in the yard next door. There was another nest up there, and she climbed in it with her baby. Wil quickly looked up on his phone about baby squirrels and found that a mom will move her babies from nest to nest if she feels the nest is unsafe or if it gets infested with fleas, so we knew that’s what she was doing. She was moving around the nest a lot and we watched as leaves fell from the center of the nest. I was worried the nest wasn’t secure and her baby would fall through it to the ground. I guess she felt the same, because after several minutes, she ran down the tree, baby still in her mouth, and into the backyard of that house.

Wil had to get back home, so I waited on the curb across the street by myself to see if the mom was going to come back for the other three babies. A few minutes after the momma squirrel left for the backyard of that house, she came running back up their driveway. She stopped at the end of it and looked at intently at me, tail waving behind her. She didn’t look freaked out. I swear she was looking at me like she was thanking me, so I told her “you’re welcome” (because why wouldn’t I) and she darted up the tree and into the box, grabbed another baby, and ran back down the driveway with it in her mouth. After momma squirrel came back for the third baby, the owner of that house came out, looking a little confused as to what she was witnessing in her backyard. She saw me across the street, and asked me if I saw what that squirrel was doing. I waved her over to me so I could explain, because there was still one more baby in the box and I didn’t want the momma squirrel to come out and see people near the tree and just bail on getting her last baby.

The neighbor came over and I explained what happened. “You mean, you were just walking by and babies fell out of the nest and you rescued them? What are you, Doctor Doolittle?” she laughed. I also laughed and replied “Yeah. That seems to happen to me a lot. It’s like THEY KNOW.” She told me she was looking out into her backyard when she saw the squirrel running up into their tree to a nest that is securely tucked between some branches. She saw her leave and come back so many times, she wondered if the squirrel was putting babies in there, which is why she came out front to investigate. I told her there was one more in the box and I wanted to make sure she got them all, so we both waited and watched. The squirrel returned one last time, taking the fourth baby with her to its new home in the backyard, so I walked back to the tree and took down the box.

I know things happen in nature for a reason. Animal instinct is either to leave their babies if they aren’t healthy or if they feel their own life is in danger. As an animal lover, there’s no way I can walk away from something like this. Or with the baby opossums in my backyard, or the baby birds that fell out of their nest on our porch a few years ago, or the baby tortoise a crow dropped in my yard once, or with Lucy, the tiny puppy I took in and found a home for. Sometimes nature just needs a helping hand, and I am happy to oblige.

After San Diego ComiCon last week, a few of my friends and I were texting each other about how much we already missed hanging out together. Still feeling it from Friday night at ComiCon where I danced for three solid hours like a maniac, I had made an appointment to get a massage that Monday. After several minutes of texting with my friends, I  told them that I had to leave the conversation because I was about to get that massage. My one friend responded “You have the perfect life, Anne. When I grow up can I be you?” to which I responded “You don’t want to be me. I fart waaaay too much.”  It’s funny, but it’s also true. This response reminded me of a story I’ve never told and since I’m all about the awkward stories and no mystery, here it is.

***

When our oldest son was in college, he wanted to come home to visit for the weekend. He was going to school in Tucson and the only direct flights were to go through LAX, not the super convenient Burbank airport. I had planned to pick Ryan up when he landed that Friday but for some reason I felt really nauseous and had a horrible headache, so Wil picked him up. I missed Ryan and wanted to spend time doing fun things with him, but I ended up feeling nauseous and run-down all day Friday and Saturday, so Wil and the kids went out and did stuff without me. I couldn’t eat and just felt really tired and achey so I was either in bed or on the couch his entire visit. His flight out on Sunday morning was ridiculously early. By late Saturday night I was feeling a bit better, so I offered to drive him to LAX in the morning so Wil could sleep in, and so I could have a little bit of time with Ryan before he left.

I woke up Sunday morning feeling much better than I had the last couple of days. It was so early (5:30am) that I decided to just drive Ryan to the airport in my pajamas. The nausea was pretty much gone and since I had hardly eaten a thing over the last couple of days, I decided to bring a banana in case I got hungry on the way to the airport. Ryan slept the entire drive instead of talking (on account of the early) so I just sang along to songs on the radio. When we were more than half way to the airport, I actually started to feel hungry, so I opened the banana and ate it cautiously, worried that it would upset my stomach again. It was ok and I was able to finish it, but as I was approaching LAX, I had the most painful, bloated gas belly I have ever had. I knew it was because my gut was so empty from no food for days and from whatever virus I had that was finally getting better. I didn’t want Ryan to be late for his plane if I had to make a stop, so I quickly got him into the terminal and up to the curb to go inside.

The minute Ryan shut my door, I put on my blinker and started to pull away from the curb, and that’s when the biggest, most toxic, I’ve-had-some-sort-of-intestinal-virus-for-days fart blasted out of me. I laughed, grateful I didn’t subject Ryan to that, and quickly, yet legally, merged from lane to lane with my blinker on (no cars there whatsoever) to get over to the turnout on the left side to leave the airport. I was choke-laughing on my fart, trying to merge quickly so I could roll down my window and just as I made the turnout, I heard a siren behind me. I looked in my mirror and saw a cop on a motorcycle pulling me over.

I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong but I frantically chanted “NO NO NO NO NO!!” as he approached because I hadn’t had time to roll the window down from farting yet and my car was a TOXIC WASTELAND that was about to be released when he approached to ask me to give him my driver’s license. OH GOD.

The officer got off of his motorcycle and walked up the side of my car to my driver’s side window. I had maybe a 5 second lead on his approach, so the window was slowly going down as he walked up. I thought about apologizing for the smell, but everything was happening too fast. Before I knew it, he was standing in front of my window and had leaned down, saying  “May I have your driver…” and that’s when he stopped abruptly to launch STRAIGHT UP and turn to the side next to my mirror BECAUSE HE GOT A FACE FULL OF MY FART AND WAS LETTING THE TOXIC WASTELAND AIR BLOW PAST HIM. He took a second to compose himself, then started over with his request to see my driver’s license and insurance card. I was trembling from embarrassment, acutely aware of my choice to wear pajamas while I drove, and handed him these items by reaching my shaky hand out to meet his side-turned body. He took them and walked back to his motorcycle to run my license as I sat in the car, now chanting “oh god oh god oh god he got a face full of my horrible fart oh god oh god.”

The officer walked back up to my car, assuming the position of the side stance next to my mirror again (the air was clear by this time but I guess he wasn’t taking any chances) and said ” You know, if it were busy here, the lane changes you made to get over would have been illegal. I’m going to let you off with a warning, but don’t do that anymore” and as he handed me my license and insurance card, he said “Nice pajamas” and walked away.

I sat there in stunned silence for what felt like several minutes, and then I started laughing so hard that tears were running down my face. I knew the way I merged across those lanes wasn’t illegal. I didn’t plow straight across all 4 lanes. I had made the merge one lane at a time, I just did it quicker than usual because A) There was no traffic and B) I had to start moving and get my window open before my face melted off from the air inside. All I could think was this guy is going to go back to the station and tell all his buddies about pulling over a woman, most likely because he was bored and saw that she was wearing pajamas, because he thought it would be funny to embarrass her. But the joke was on him when he leaned in and got the surprise of his life with a mouthful of post-intestinal virus eye-watering, face-melting toxic fart that literally blew him to one side.

As I pulled away from the curb, tears of laughter streaming down my face, I said out loud “Meh. That’s what you get for pulling me over. That’ll teach ya.”

The moral of the story here is this: Don’t wear pajamas while you drive but if you do, make sure you drive with the windows down.