If you live in Tennessee, you have probably been following along with many of the crazy-ass laws that have been proposed in the most recent state legislative session. Even if you don't, some of them have received horribly, horribly embarrassing national news coverage. 

Lets begin!

Gather children, and we'll explore The Misguided Adventures of Tea Party Rednecks and Sexually Repressed Homophobes:

The ever-present, and possibly challenged, Sen. Stacy Campfield (Knoville-R) is really on a roll this year. He is the sponsor of the widely-discussed "Don't Say Gay Bill" which, you guessed it, would bar teachers from discussing homosexuality in public schools.

Did you catch the Daily Show when they featured this? Check it out here. Luckily that bill only passed in the Senate and was watered down by an amendment to be slightly less horrifying. But that darling ginger doesn't stop at just one offensive move. He is currently trying to veto the state budget in order to defund Planned Parenthood. I can't think of a creative enough insult for you, sir.

Moving on.

Rep. Bill Dunn (R-Knoxville) is encouraging "critical thinking" through his bill that will allow teachers to present Creationism as a viable alternative to evolution in public school science classrooms. We're talking Adam, Eve, snake, etc etc.

And don't even get me started about the community in Murfreesboro who are fighting the construction of a new Mosque.

Yes. That was the argument. People FEARED FOR THEIR SAFETY. Allow me to share with you a quote from one of the residents:
"Our country was founded through the founding fathers -- through the true God, the Father and Jesus Christ."
Really? Because I was under the impression that our country was founded on freedom of religion, you ignorant ho-bag.
Here is where I would add that the legislature also tried to pass a law making it illegal for Muslims to practice parts of their religion. But I won't. Because if I write any more about this I might just accidentally convince myself to move.

Point is: Not all Tennesseans are like this. I'd like to end with a quote from another one of the TN legislators:

“It hurts business. It’s embarrassing for me to talk to people in other parts of the country. It hurts our image down here. We had an image of everybody being barefoot and bucktoothed with cow licks on the sides of their head. [In the past], we came a long way to try to diminish some of that. We might have stepped back in the pack in the South.”
-Rep. Mike Turner

Dear Lady Doctor,

This morning was fun. As fun as those visits can be. I always enjoy our yearly dates. You warm the speculum for me, and that really means a lot. Seriously, when you have something shoved up your chalupa it's far more pleasant when it's not 19 degrees.

But there is something that I need to talk to you about.

Some people are uncomfortable with male gynos. I for one, am not. If a man loves vagina THAT MUCH, I feel like mine is safe in his gloved, lubed hands.

However.

You're a talker. Which is fine! I'll chat with you about the weather, upcoming vacations, work, and any other variation of general small-talk that you make with someone that you know, but are not actually "friends" with. But there is really a time and a place for this kind of prattle.

You have ample time before and after the actual exam, but for some reason you wait until you are staring straight into my cervix before you ask about my Nana's birthday party.

I'm not really sure what to do when this happens. Do I shush you? Just mumble something and pray that you'll stop talking? Start working my kegels and make this little adventure a tad more challenging for you?

I don't know.

Lets consider this my official request to enact a new rule during our time together. When legs open, mouths shut.

Love,

Cassie

P.S. I really appreciated it when you told me that I had a great looking cervix. Careful though- don't want it to get too cocky.

HAHAHA, see what I did there? Seriously though, I'd like it to be a little cockier.

So the Rapture didn't happen on Saturday, which is unfortunate because I was planning on the world ending and therefore decimating my post-birthday hangover from the night before. But alas, it did not. I was ready to move on and pretend not to notice while the crazies had to toss out their THE END IS NEAR signs and start saving up for retirement again because, hell- that is embarrassing enough in itself.

But no. Oooooh no. They can't just shrug and say, "Well, my goodness! The world is still here. We will now go quietly read the Bible to ourselves and stop harrassing you heathens."

Because Jesus? He is just FASHIONABLY LATE!

That's right, motherfuckers, the J Man will be back in October for, you know, the real Rapture. He was here watching us on Saturday, but he was just invisble. Which I thought was always the case, according to Sunday School teachers all over the nation.

Personally, I wish Jesus had taken all the Rapturers with him last weekend, because frankly- I'm tired of mocking them.

But thank god other people aren't.

Actually? That title is slightly misleading. It suggests that he actually *thinks* about things before he says them.

Let me give you some background info:

I have an older and a younger brother. The older one is a quiet Baptist deacon, while the younger one is an introverted hippie. I, on the other hand, am a loud mouthed smart-ass. I get this exclusively from my father. Because of this, he refers to me as his "favorite son." My brothers are unaware of this, and are, fortunately, uninterested enough in social media to EVER find this blog. The point is, my father feels that he can chat with me about many inappropriate subjects. Imagine the kinds of things discussed in a men's locker room. Now imagine talking about that shit with your Dad.

My father spent much of his life as an uptight businessman, and when he was successful enough to retire at 50, he straight up reverted back to his childhood. Well, his 20s at least.

My friends love my Dad, mostly because he will talk shit about me without even a glimmer of guilt in his eye. He tells the story of what a horrifying emotional teeny bopper I was when I met *Nsync to anyone who will listen. He also likes to make awkward references to not only my sex life, but also his own. He is my future therapist's dream.

Here are some gems:

[While watching the episode of Sex & the City where Charlotte gets crabs.]
Dad: Honey, remember that time I got crabs? YEESH- those things are ITCHY.
Mom: Please. Please hush.
Dad: No really- remember? From those dirty sheets in San Fransisco? And you had to get them out with that little comb?
Mom: *Sigh*
Me: HORRIFIED STARE

Me: So, Dad...what do you want for Father's Day?
Dad: Every year that passes and you're not knocked up is really a gift in itself.

Dad: So this guy you're dating...does he play sports?
Me: Um, well yeah, I guess so.
Dad: Is he any good? Cause if I'm going to breed you, I want good athletic stock.
[That's right. My father just referred to me in terms of cattle.]

{While sitting at the renovated cabin that he just bought and fixed up]
Dad: So, Cass- Once this place is all done and I put a hot tub out here, you could come up here on a weekend just to hang by yourself and relax.
Me: Yeah, I could come up here and chill in the hot tub "alone," or you know...whatever
Dad: Ahahahaha, is she my daughter or what? Can I get a fist bump?
{To be fair, I brought this one on myself. I still was not comfortable with the thought of my Dad fist pounding the idea of me getting sexed up in a hot tub.}

Those are just a few. Stay tuned to the disturbing father/daughter version of Shit My Dad Says.

Ok, nature. We need to talk. About this:

Nashville is currently in the middle of a Cicada invasion. I grew up on a farm. I've killed snakes, I shoot guns, I hold my shit together around gross slimy things. But let me say this: this little plague is not funny. Seriously- I was starting to reconsider my blatant contempt for the uber-Christians who were preaching about the Rapture. You would to if you walked out your backyard and was smacked in the face with this shit:

Oh, that sound? THAT SOUND HAUNTS MY DREAMS.

You didn't know bugs could scream? Yeah, me neither. I also did not anticipate being able to hear them through the brick walls of my condo.

Spoiler alert: If eaten, they give dogs horrible, horrible diarrhea. My dogs think that the Lord of the bug kingdom is personally sending them flying popcorn. They are fucking ECSTATIC.

I do not feel the same way, mostly because at the beginning of "the invasion" one tried to crawl INTO MY VAGINA.
(Sometimes I go into my backyard in just a robe. What of it?)

In short: My vagina and I are way over this.