FOOTPRINTS

Some people come into our lives, and leave footprints on our hearts.

Others come into our lives, and make us want to leave footprints on their face.

(quote from one of my girls, Victoria B)

Peace out.

SLEEPING WITH THE FISHES?

So, if nothing else, the last week has taught me that a couple of people are suspicious of my intentions toward my beloved husband, Charlie-Albert.

You see, apparently, buying him a ‘Shark Walk’ experience through the Melbourne Aquarium has had some people question whether I’m actually trying to provide him with an experience from his bucket list, or kill him.

I don’t know whether to be horrified at the accusation, or flee for being found out!

:D

Anyway, Charlie-Albert turned 45 last week; my old man.  Earlier this year, The Buttler’s went to the Melbourne Aquarium for something to do, and we saw people in the huge tanks, walking with the sting rays, sharks and all other groovy looking fishies.  Right then and there, I thought ‘I’m going to get that for Charlie-Albert for his birthday! YEAH!’ 

He’s right into scuba diving, and is going to go for his diving licence (or something) later this year.  Bazaar for a man that lives in North Central Victoria, NO WHERE NEAR any bodies of water, to want to do the scuba thing, but whatever.  As long as he’s happy.  We all have dreams.

Iris said to me the other week that she didn’t know what to get Char for his birthday, so, we went halvies in this Shark Walk experience for him.

He was so happy with the present, he took his pants off.  He was out of control. 

Me, being totally in control and calm at all times, couldn’t wait to give him the present, and so we gave it to him the day before his birthday.  I was so excited, I nearly peed myself!

So Sunday rolls around; the day of the Shark Walk.  During the morning, Char’s on the phone to his Auntie in Kyneton, and tells her about the whole thing.  She says to him ‘I’d be worried about the type of soap that Lee’s giving you to wash yourself with.  It may have something in it that attracts sharks!’ and pisses herself laughing.

Damn.  Found out on that one.

So then I put on Facebook that I’m going to ‘throw Charlie in a tank of sharks at the Melbourne Aquarium’ and one of my peeps says ‘long overdue’.

Now I’m starting to think that people are not only suspicious of me, but have expected it for a while!!!

Forget that I’m running around after him all morning, whilst he’s getting ready, spraying him with shark attracting spray.  That has nothing to do with it!

Mortified at these accusations.  Totally mortified!

When we get to the big smoke, we park at the Exhibition Centre, and walk past Crown and across to the aquarium from there.  It was such a beautiful day!  However, it was a real challenge walking through the Exhibition Centre, because they were holding the Fashion Exposed, Bags and Accessories, and Shoe Exhibition.  Charlie literally dragged me past them, which I thought that was really selfish, quite frankly.  It’s not all about him, you know…

Once we got past that MAJOR hurdle and were strolling along the Crown promenade, every minute or so, I would ask ‘Are you excited?’ to which he would sigh and say ‘Yes dear.’  Hahahhaaa…

So we get to the Aquarium, and Charlie goes off for his briefing on the dive thing, and Jade and I wander into the aquarium.  After she physically drags me away from the penguins, we find our way to the big circular tanks, and wait for him to jump in.  It was the longest ½ hour of my effing life. 

Right on time, the ladder comes down from the tank roof, and the dive instructor comes down, followed by Charlie-Albert (and some other dude that I totes don’t give a shit about).

As soon as his feet his the sandy bottom of the tank, he turned around and looked for us, and smiled and waved excitedly.  I nearly peed and dropped the phone which was recording everything.  A little kid in front of me, who looked about five, waved at Charlie, and Char gave him the ‘thumbs up.’  The kid that all his Christmas’s had come at once!

For 20 minutes, Charlie walked around the tank and swam with the fishes.  He got a face plant by a massive sting ray which took quite a liking to him (only human) and glided over his helmet and arms.  Charlie said that was a trip; like fingers gripping and dragging across his arm. 

My shark attracting spray failed (possibly didn’t help that he was in a wetsuit, and the spray was all over his clothing), to which my friend later commented that ‘the sharks had let us all down today’. 

Sharks, eels, sting rays, and other awesome fish swam all around him, and he had the time of his life.  I’m sure he could have stayed there for hours.

Me, I was busy elbowing my way through the crowd so I could film it all.  A few times I actually shoved people out of the way that stepped in front of me.  I said to one woman ‘Excuse me.  Can I just get through…’ and she snapped ‘No.  I was here first.’  To which, I politely replied ‘You may have been standing there first, but I have paid $200 to see my husband in that tank.  Get out of my fucking way.’  She moved. 

Finally, Charlie turned to me and pointed to the sky, indicating it was time for him to go.  First in the tank, first out. He climbed part way up the ladder, and the instructor tapped his leg and told him to turn and wave at the people watching.  The little kids went nuts.  The awesome diver waved at them.  Totes cool.

Whilst we was waiting for Charlie to shower and change, we went through the gift shop and bought him a little hammerhead shark plush toy for him to keep, and remember this awesome adventure.

When he came out, he was like a fat kit that had been given the keys to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory; totes excited and talking at a million miles an hour.

T’was awesome.

On the way home, he fell asleep in the car.  Bless his little heart, he was pooped.  Lots of excitement for one day.

Happy birthday Charlie-Albert.

THANKFUL

So, I received an email from one of my girlfriends (Marika), and I thought it was really poignant. 

It’s quite simple, but I feel very, very true, so I thought I’d share it with you.

Enjoy.

I AM THANKFUL

For the wife who says it’s not dogs night

Because she’s at home with me, and not out with someone else.

For the husband who is on the sofa being a couch potato,

Because he’s at home with me, and not out at the bars.

For the teenager who is complaining about doing dishes,

Because it means she’s at home, not on the streets.

For the taxes is pay,

Because it means I am employed.

For the mess to clean after a party,

Because it means I have been surrounded by friends.

For the clothes that fit a little too snug,

Because it means I have enough to eat.

For my shadow that watches me work,

Because it means I am out in the sunshine.

For the lawn that needs mowing, windows that need cleaning, and gutters that need fixing,

Because it means I have a home.

For all the complaining I hear about the government,

Because it means we have freedom of speech.

For the parking spot I find at the far end of the parking lot,

Because it means I am capable of walking and I have been blessed with transportation.

For my huge heating bill,

Because it means I am warm.

For the lady behind me in church who sings off key,

Because it means I can hear.

For the pile of laundry and ironing,

Because it means I have clothes to wear.

For the weariness and aching muscles at the end of the day,

Because it means I have been capable of working hard.

For the alarm that goes off in the early morning hours,

Because it means I am alive.

And finally, for too much e-mail,

Because it means I have friends who are thinking of me.

BRING ON SPRING

Check out this photo. 

Dawn breaking at Tooborac.

This is the North-East view across my property, from the front of my house.

Isn't mother nature spectacular?

I love the moon in the top left corner, being chased away by the rising sun.  I love the fog laying in the valleys and paddocks; cold, chilly mornings hint at a promise of warmth to come.  A beautiful day ahead.

I love this time of year.  Spring would have to be my favourite season, for so many reasons.

Through mid to late August, we get glimpses of the weather that’s ahead of us; a few days of beautiful, warm weather strung together to remind us what the sun actually looks and feels like!

Sucks that these few days are usually whilst we’re at work, and disappear on the weekend! Wtf?

No, I love Spring.  I love how suddenly, the chill of winter is gone, and everything floral bursts into life.  The roses start budding, bulbs suddenly seem to explode out of the ground, and all of a sudden, you notice all of the daisies out, which you didn’t seem to notice the week before…

You can start leaving windows and doors open, to let the warm, gentle spring breeze clear away the stale darkness of winter, and fill your house with warmth and light again.

You can stop using the frigging wood heater that covers everything in dust!

You can go out and play in the garden; pruning, weeding and planting, without the fear of drowning in mud and puddles.

You can hang your doonas and quilts over the balcony railing (I don’t have a clothes line) and let them air in the warmth of the spring sun.

You can start using the bbq again, because it was too damn cold to do so through winter.  Aaahhh…. Nothing like the smell of a barbie, is there?  Mmmm…. The smell of summer.

You can even start eating outside again, enjoying the beautiful weather and views.  I love sitting on the front verandah, looking over the thriving garden and further into the paddocks, where I can actually hear the cows chomping on the grass, it’s so quiet.

I love looking down into the front garden, and seeing a little bit of fur under one of the shrubs; the cats love lounging in the garden in spring, and usually pick a bush to sleep under ALL DAY.  Aaahhh… the life of a cat.

I can’t wait to plant seedlings, see my roses and bulbs start blooming, and re-plant the vegie patch.

I can’t wait to finish off projects that have been delayed because of the winter wet.

Yep; best time of year.  Not too hot to work and live outside, not too cold to keep you indoors.

Bring on spring!

Peace out.

THE END GAME

Don’t you just love a good political scandal?

Do you find yourself shocked?  You should.  You see, a scandal that we find shocking, reinforces the fact that we are decent, moral human beings. We have standards and expectations, and when it comes to our politicians, we demand they be met.

I love a good scandal.  Reminds me that I’m doing okay, and am not a self-absorbed twat that abuses the power and privilege granted me by the Australian public.  I love to see the dishonesty, the dirty back-yard deals, and the corruption come to light, and it certainly has over the past couple of weeks with Craig Thomson, MP.

So, here’s the scenario:  Mr Thomson, the current Member for Dobell (in NSW), and Labor Party backbencher, has allegedly been a naughty boy; on many levels.  And I stress: allegedly.

So who is Craig Thomson? Well, prior to winning pre-selection for the seat of Dobell (which was apparently quite controversial, as some of the more senior NSW ALP MP’s didn’t want him in the party), he was the Assistant Secretary for the NSW Branch of the Health Services Union (HSU) from 2002 to 2007.  He was elected into parliament in the 2007 Election.

During his tenure at the HSU, a union credit card, which was owned by Mr Thomson, was used to secure the services of prostitutes.  BANG!

Now, this is where the fun begins.  Fairfax Media broke the story quite a few years ago and Thomson vehemently denied the allegations against him.  In fact, he slapped Fairfax Media with a defamation lawsuit.  However, it’s only defamation if what’s being reported about you is not true, and sometimes, slapping someone like Fairfax Media with a lawsuit doesn’t scare them away.  It just hardens their resolve.

Credit card receipts have surfaced that show his signature, and on the back, his driver’s licence details (good administration from an Escort service, to ensure that the card presented is owned by the user, isn’t it?).  Apparently, there are several instances of these ‘purchases’, averaging between $300 and $500 each, over a period of months, in Victoria and New South Wales, and one for a whopping $2,475.00.  However, I’ll come back to that one later.

Thomson’s excuse?  My wallet was stolen. Really? 

Now let me ask you this, my friends: if your wallet was stolen, what would be the first thing you’d do?  That’s right.  You’d ring the bank and cancel all of your cards.  Apparently, Mr Thomson didn’t do that. 

Now let me ask you another question, my friends: if you received your credit card statement, and there were transactions on there that you didn’t make, what would you do?  That’s right: you’d contact your bank and investigate them.  Mr Thomson didn’t do that, either.   In fact, when the credit card statement arrived for payment, he signed off on it, and submitted it to the HSU for payment.

His revised reason for the transactions? Someone else used my card and licence.  They were no longer stolen; someone else used them.  Ah-huh?  He admitted that the card was used to pay for the services of prostitutes, mind you; but he didn’t do it.

But Mr Thomson; there were also calls from your mobile and hotel rooms, to several different escort services during that time… apparently.  Mr Thomson? Oh yes; that wasn’t you, was it?  It was someone else.  Lost your mobile? Someone else staying in a hotel room booked in your name?

Innocent until proven guilty, I say.  However, it ain’t looking pretty, is it?

These are the problems he faces.  Number one: if he did use his card to pay for escort services, not only has he lied about it, but he has misappropriated union member funds.

The Health Services Union works for some of the lowest paid workers in the health industry: the orderlies, the cleaners and the like that bust their nuts to earn a quid and pay their union dues, which I’m sure, are not cheap.  How would they be feeling right now knowing that their union, the body that’s there to look out for them, is wasting their money on prostitutes?  I don’t think it would be much of a stretch to imagine that they’re pretty disappointed.

Number two: if he hasn’t used his card, he has, by authorising the transactions on his card, approved of the way these funds have been spent.  So here we ask: is it acceptable for unions to use their member’s money for this form of personal entertainment?  Again, I don’t think the members would be too pleased about this.

Now, here comes another question: why hasn’t the president of the HSU, Michael Williamson acted on this?  Bill Shorten MP, our federal assistant treasurer, who has an extensive background with the AWU, has said that this behaviour would warrant action by the union.  Why has this not happened?  I’ll come back to this one later as well.

So, reading between the lines, either Mr Thomson likes the company of escorts, or is permitting someone he knows, to do so, at the expense of the HSU.

What happened to the lawsuit against Fairfax Media?  It was dropped by Mr Thomson, who was privately funding the action against them.  Why?  Well, there are a few theories on this one.

Mr Thomson publicly said that it’s because he could not personally afford to pursue it, and was on the verge of bankruptcy.

Bankruptcy? Now that’s interesting.  Did you know, under the Australian Constitution, that if a member of parliament declares bankruptcy, or is convicted of a criminal offence that incurs a jail term, that they must resign their seat in parliament?

Big deal I hear you say?  Big deal indeed.  If he resigned his seat in parliament, the seat of Dobell would be forced to hold a bi-election to find a replacement.  After the damage that Mr Thomson has done to the ALP brand in Dobell, and the damage that the Gillard/Green government has done to the federal brand, do you think that an ALP candidate would win the seal of Dobell again?  I doubt it.

And what would it mean if the ALP lost the seat of Dobell?  We would have a hung parliament, and back to the polls we would go.  Do you think, in this negative ALP climate, that Gillard would win a federal election now?

So this is no longer a matter of a stupid politician that cannot keep his dick in his pants; it’s becomes a matter of a government holding on to power.

Enter the NSW branch of the ALP.  Allegedly, Mr Arbib (Senator for NSW, and Minister of about three different portfolio’s in the ALP government) is a massive power broker for the NSW ALP.  Apparently, he was the one that brokered a deal between Craig Thomson and Julia Gillard to bail Mr Thomson out of bankruptcy to the tune of $90,000.00, thus securing his seat in parliament.

Now, there is nothing wrong with the ALP helping one of its own out of trouble.  Nor, do I feel, that it’s wrong for them to avoid the possibility of a bi-election in this way.  However, a few things pop up here to be considered. 

Firstly, if the ALP had a clear majority in the parliament, do you think they would be bailing a nobody back bencher out of trouble?  I doubt it.  He would be out quicker than an escort’s client after their time is up. 

Secondly, do you think that by bailing Thomson out of this trouble that the highest office in the land is compromising its morals, and our standards, for power?

Let me bring you back to the $2,475.00 credit card payment to an escort service.  Now, either Mr Thomson (or whoever used the card) has had the ride of his life, or there are multiple people that are the recipients of these ‘services’.

This raises the question: who are the people that benefited from this payment?  Are they HSU officials?  Are they ALP MP’s?  Are they ALP power brokers?  Was Mr Thomson (allegedly) buying favour?  Was he securing votes?  Who knows?

What we do know, is that the ALP and the HSU don’t want any more details of this sordid story to come out, and are going into ‘damage control’ like careers depended on it.  Hang on… they do.

How did it come out after all these years, when it seemed dead and buried, I hear you ask?  Well, when you’re a member of parliament, amongst other things, you must declare all donations and gifts in kind to the parliament.  Mr Thomson hadn’t declared the $90,000.00 the NSW ALP gave him.

After being confronted with allegations that the NSW ALP paid his $90K legal bills, Mr Thomson broke parliamentary rules by amending the pecuniary interest register last week and not advising parliament in due process.

The Liberals and reporters were all over him like vultures on a corpse.

So, Mr Thomson would appear to be in more trouble than a pregnant hooker.  If he has indeed used the HSU credit card to secure the services of escorts, then he’s misappropriated member funds.  If he hasn’t used it card himself, then he’s approved of someone using it, and again, has misappropriated union funds and acted fraudulently by letting someone else use his card and licence.

AND, he’s lied about it all, used $90,000.00 of ALP member’s funds to bail himself out, mislead HSU members, the parliament, and the people of Australia.

One wonders if it was just a matter of bailing him out, or was it also buying his silence?  I think there are some people out there that have 2,475 reasons to keep him quiet.  Man, how big could this actually get?

He’s facing and investigation by the HSU, the NSW Police, Fair Trade Australia and anyone else that can be bothered.  Not to mention, public and political condemnation.  Innocent or not, his reputation is in tatters.

Should he resign?  He’s already stepped aside as Chairman of the Lower House Economics Committee, as this issue will ‘interfere with his work with the committee’.  No shit.

Mmm… I think it comes back to the fact that his removal could topple a government, and I can’t see Gillard sacking him or forcing him to resign.  To save face, she should; however, I think the need for power far outweighs morals at this stage of the game.  The federal ALP is desperately clinging to power, and this is enough to see them fall…

So what will the end game be here?  This big, black hole that is threatening to swallow Craig Thomson is getting deeper and deeper… just how many people will he drag down into it with him before it’s over?

I cannot wait to see how this unfolds…

Peace out.

PARENTS V TEENAGERS

As most of you know, I’m the step-mother to a 14 year old bag of hormones.

Clearly, I have chosen this path because I like to constantly torment myself for sins I have committed somewhere along the line (fuck knows what they are) and need to be forever punished for my failings as a human being.

One clear example of my failings is that we produce our own beef on our farm, yet my step-daughter is a vegetarian.  FAIL. *hangs head in shame*

I can think of no other reason why put myself through this, other than to accommodate my beloved husband, and because I’m a sucker for punishment.

Being a step-parent is akin to torture.  This is something that only other step-parents can understand, and something that a biological parent cannot, in any way, shape or form, appreciate (unless of course they somehow become a step-parent).

I was chatting with a friend the other day about the joys of step-parenting, and she said: ‘I don’t know how you do it.  Being a step-parent must be so hard…’

I’m like: ‘If you don’t mind people staring at the bruises on your forehead from constantly banging your head against a wall in complete and utter frustration, it’s a piece of cake.’

So, this got me thinking (which my husband tells me is the source of most of my problems; thinking).

You see, the main problem I have is communication.  The fact that I am always right, and my step-daughter hasn’t worked that out yet, doesn’t help, but it is clearly evident that we are not only on a different wavelength, we’re on a completely different planet.

If men are from Mars, and women are from Venus; children are from Uranus.

I remember being a teenager; just.  I remember the music, the makeup, the hair, the ‘80’s, the movies, the tennis, the sleepovers, the angst, stoopid boys, and high school.  I’ve been through everything that my step-daughter is going through now. Been there; done that.

However, having an additional 25 years of knowledge and experience in my head than her would appear to make my view on life vastly different to her teenage one.  This is understandable, and hence why she needs to acknowledge that I’m always right.  Maybe when she breeds herself, she’ll get it.

Anyway; back to me thinking too much.

After great consideration, I’ve created what I feel is a fairly accurate comparative between parents and teenagers.  Note I said ‘parents’, not adults.  You see, adults have two things that parents don’t: 1) no children and 2) freedom.

Yes: freedom.  Don’t sit there going ‘OMG! How could you say that!’ because it’s true. What you wouldn’t give for the chance to just have some peace from doing the washing, ironing, cooking, cleaning, transporting and Christ knows what else you do for your ungrateful children.  Freedom my friends.

Below is my quintessential guide for the comparison of parents and teenagers.  Anyone who is the parent or step-parent of a teenager will immediately appreciate it.  Anyone who is not (previously said ‘adult’) will be shocked at the horrific glimpse of what a teenager can actually be like.  Failing that, it will bring back memories of what an arse you were as a teenager and that you owe your parents some compensation.

Brace yourself.

SIMILARITIES

PARENTS	TEENAGERS
Eat	Eat
Sleep	Sleep
Shit	Shit

DIFFERENCES

PARENTS	TEENAGERS
Eat food they paid for	Eat food everyone else pays for, and then complains about it.
Sleep in a bed and under a roof they paid for	Sleep in a pig sty they created, in a bed they can barely find, under a roof that someone else paid for, and then complain about it.
Shit in a toilet they paid for, using toilet paper and air freshener they paid for.	Shit anywhere, maybe use toilet paper, and don’t care about air freshener.  Let’s not mention hand washing.  Then, they complain about it and try to blame the cat for the smell.
Brushes teeth twice a day.	What’s a toothbrush?
Assesses their priorities for the day, determines what is most important (usually not stuff they want to do) and busts their nuts in an attempt to get everything on their ridiculously long list done.	Assesses their priorities for the day, determines that doing makeup and hair requires a larger slice of the day than homework, thus causing the domination of the bathroom.  Then, when they run out of time to do their homework, they complain about it.
Sacrifices their weekend (only time off) to drive their child all over the country side for sport, sleepovers, shopping, movies and other irrelevant bullshit, because they want their kid to be happy.	Gets driven all over the country side for sport, sleepovers, shopping, movies and other irrelevant bullshit, which their simple lives cannot exist without, ignorant to the fact that their ‘rents’ have sacrificed their weekend to do so, and not giving a fuck anyway.  Then, they complain about it.
Try to do as much as possible around the house, so they can relax in front of the telly each night.	Does as little as possible around the house, so they can relax in front of the telly 24/7.
Get up early each morning, just so they can make their kids lunch each day.	Throw their lunch into the bin on the way through the school gate, leaving them with nothing to eat all day; then complain about it.
Hurriedly throw together a three course meal each night, that’s fit for the Queen herself, to please their loving family.	Hates the dinner that is cooked for them, because they either don’t eat coloured foods, are vego’s, don’t feel like porterhouse steak tonight, the mashed potatoes have lumps in it, or don’t like carrots, leaving them with nothing to eat.  Then, they complain about it.
Rush around in the morning like an idiot, jumping between getting ready for work and reminding the kids to hurry up so you can get them to the bus on time, so you’re not late for work.	Yell at you to stop nagging them, run around in a panic because they can’t find their school tie in their pig-sty bedroom, don’t give a toss if you’re late for work, but are devastated that they miss the bus and have to be dropped ‘mega early’ at school because of it, and then complain about it.
Try to lovingly help their child resolve their issues/problems.	Scream at their ‘rents’ because they can’t find their school tie, or the world is coming to an end because they’ve run out of mascara (this could apply to either sex, really), are ‘dying’ because it’s foggy, and their straightened hair will frizz (again, either sex) and continue to carry on like twats because somehow, this is your problem now and it’s your fault it can’t be fixed.  Then, they complain about it.
Think your child is the most wonderful, blessed gift that the universe could bestow upon you, irrespective of their faults.	Thinks their ‘rents’ are aliens from another planet that are so out of touch with the youth of today, that they should be put in a nursing home, even though they’re only 40 (which is like really old). They’re such a total embarrassment to their image, which they constantly complain about.
When asks for assistance from the teenager in any way, is greeted with a screaming lecture which identifies the parent as an obsessive neat freak that controls every aspect of their lives, dominates them to a point that they will be an emotional cripple for the rest of their lives, and declares that they have rights too, you know.	When seeks assistance, receives it without complaint and with love and encouragement.
Enjoys going out to dinner and spending quality time with the family.	Thinks going out to dinner with the family is a complete waste of time, because who wants to spend time with the ‘rents’ anyway, and it cuts into their cyber-social life.
Socialising entails spending quality time with friends/family over coffee or lunch, catching up on the gossip	Socialising is spending hours in front of a computer screen ‘talking’ to people they cannot see and have possibly never met, whilst having several text conversations on their mobile phone; again, with people they cannot see and have possibly never met.
All of their friends are real.	Majority of their friends are cyber, and include Facebook friends called ‘Beyonce Knows’.  These same friends are their ‘bestest friends ever!’ whom they ‘love’ very much.
Spends hours of their valuable time wandering around a supermarket, panicking over the cost of everything, just so they can put food in the cupboard/fridge so everyone has something to eat.	Even though the cupboard/fridge is full, complains that there is nothing to eat.
Busts a nut to get the washing and ironing done every week.	Doesn’t give a toss about the washing and ironing that’s be placed in their room and 1) dumps it on the floor and ignores it, or 2) complains that their favourite top has not been washed, even though they forgot to put it in the wash basket, and complains that their social life will come to an end because they cannot wear it.
When teenager barges into bedroom without any consideration for what the adult may be doing, is greeted with love and apologies for any potential embarrassment that they have unintentionally caused, for fear of emotionally crippling them for the rest of their lives.	When parent barges into teenagers room (which is in the house that they paid for), the teenager goes into hysterics about the hideous, almost criminal invasion of privacy, and declares that they will be an emotional cripple for the rest of their lives because of it.  Then complains about it.
Works hard to earn the money to pay for EVERYTHING.	Does not understand the concept of money, and doesn’t care, because the ‘rents’ will pay for it anyway.
Thinks a job is a necessity, and cannot survive without it.	Thinks a hair straightener is a necessity, and cannot survive without it (again, applicable to either sex)
Believes that the latest fashion involves hiding everything unsightly.	Believes that the latest fashion is flashing everything unsightly.
Believes ‘skinny-leg-jeans’ on men is horrendous, and a serious crime against humanity.	Believes that skinny leg jeans on men are just the coolest thing ever (again, applies to either sex), and it is a crime against humanity not having a pair.
Believes everything should be earnt.	Believes everything should be handed to them on a silver platter.

I hope these simple points have clarified the differences between parents and teenagers, and that they can assist you in not only communicating with any teenager, but stop you from spontaneously punching the crap out of any random one that crosses your path (which at times, is totally justified), particularly the ones that still insist on wearing the jeans around their crotch, showing of their Calvin Clien's, even though this shit went out of fashion about five years ago.

I will at this point say, that not all teenagers fit into the stereotypes above.  Some are freaks of nature that are either psychopaths or just absolutely wonderful.

God knows what one you could end up with.

Peace out.