“ Ah, and sure as the sun rises in the east, today the first purse-meme thang appeared on my Facebook wall. One of my friends “likes it in the car.” Nothing like imagining your middle-aged friends doing it to start the day off right! More purse locations will be coming, I’m sure, as October grinds on. Purses on the floor, on the table, on a chair. Inside a basket. Hanging on a hook. Oh, ha ha. Ha ha. Ha. And this helps cancer patients how??? Hey, I’ve got an idea for a game. How about all you coy, adorable gals pry yourselves away from your computers, grab your purses and plunk them down on the floor next to a friend who is suffering from cancer. Then you take her hand, and you tell her that you love her, and you’re going to be there for her no matter what comes. Then you ask her how you can help. I know this game won’t be as much fun as the bra and purse online frolics. But since when is a disfiguring, often fatal disease supposed to be a source of fun for others? I must have missed the memo.
Facebook Wants to Know Where I Like My Purse. Here’s Where They Can Put It. (via apsies)
co-signed.
(via kristenfromkansas)
Excuse me? Wait, what?
If you go to my facebook page (which I would link but I’m not an idiot and that bitch is set to private) you may see that I too participated in the “purse meme”. But here’s the catch. Last June my MOTHER was diagnosed with stage 3 aggressive breast cancer.
I sure as hell “put down my purse” long enough to help her. I moved, changed my life around, to help her. I was the first one (aside from herself…duh) to feel the lump. I was with her when the doctor said “yes, its breast cancer”. I was there when she met with her surgeon for the first time. I was there when she had the lump removed. I was there when she met with her Oncologist for the first time. I was there when she “toured” the Chemotherapy Room.
I’ve also been living with her and see the effects, daily, of this toxic shit being pumped through her vains is doing to her. I was the one that shaved my moms head for her when her hair was falling out in clumps. I was the one that listened to her cough to the point of not breathing because she got a cold which rapidly turned into worse because she has no immune system now. I’m the one that is watching her skin still darken on her hands and legs because of the chemo taking an even deeper effect. I’m the one that puts the heating pad on her when she’s in intense pain from her bone marrow shot.
So EXCUSE THE FUCK out of me when I get offended by your snotty ass little post.
Yes, I took the time out of caring for my possibly DYING mother to post a facebook comment and to write this. Excuse ME for picking up my purse or my computer or whatever the hell it is for 5 seconds but FUCK OFF because this is the ONLY resemblance of normalcy I have.
Think for two seconds that maybe, just maybe, one of these “adorable gals” has got some major shit going on at home and is only posting it as ONE sign that she is aware and wants to help cure this horrible disease.
I’ve donated more that just a status asshole. I’ve donated my time, money, life, and sure as hell my tears to fight Breast Cancer.
What the fuck have you done?
When I say YOU I mean whoever agreed or co-signed or whatever to this. Call me a bitch or whatever you feel more comfortable with; just take a second to think about the people that ARE battling against this and how this could deeply offend them.
(via kristenfromkansas)
