Partridge Festival Home page

A Tiny Shift in the Universe

2009-03-14T20:18:00.003-07:00

When I found out she was going to exist, I wasn't expecting it and I cried. It was beautiful, it was scary, it was unfair, it was poetic. It was a lot of things I didn't understand. I knew it would all fall together in a very simple joy the moment she was born.

It wasn't like that at all.

I still don't understand a lot of things about her. She turned my sister into a different person--someone a little less selfish and a lot more grown-up. She turned my mother into someone who was actually happy. The strangest thing is what she did to me.

I expected, after holding this tiny perfect little thing with *my* nose, the baby cravings would hit with the weight of a neutron star. I would be smitten with her cuteness and want to play with one of my own. Instead, she terrifies me. I'm not a person who loves easily and the intensity of my feelings for this little lump of Clay I met, literally, yesterday, fills me with an ominous dread. If this is how I feel with someone who is, by all definitions, extended family, how could I be expected to function with one of my own?

I've known this feeling before. The thought of loving someone more than I love my husband has always scared me, although that is beginning to wane a bit (not because I love him less, but because I trust us more). This just reopens that fear. I mean, I met her just over 24 hours ago, and I would not only throw myself under a bus for her, but relish the fact that *I* was the one who got to do it! I cried today because I miss her. For some stupid reason, I miss her. How would I let one of my own go to that first day of kindergarten, or, god help us all, college? Clearly, it takes someone made of tougher stuff than I to be a parent.

So maybe J. had it better by it being a (fortuitous) accident. Because who in their right mind could intentionally walk into the kind of evisceration that motherhood literally is? So welcome to the world, Baby Girl. I've already given you your first skinned knee, and you've already given me an oddly broken heart.

The Complexities of Forgiveness

2009-02-12T09:04:00.004-08:00

*I actually started this post months ago and never finished, but a conversation last night about being "Friend Dumped" made me want to get it out there.

Seven years ago, I had my heart broken so badly it still hurts to think about it today. I've thrown away all old photographs and trinkets and can't even think about the good times without having them tinged with an anxious pain. I can't even be angry, just terribly, terribly sad. Nothing hurts worse than breaking up with a friend, and this was a particularly ugly breakup.

We were joined at the hip my last two years of college. We felt sorry for each other, which, retrospectively, is a recipe for disaster. I should have known what would happen. In fact, if my college experience can be described as anything, it's a toxic waste dump of spectacularly bad relationship choices and a deep underestimation of myself. She carried with her a string of "betrayals" by best friends that she viciously hacked from her life--and I really, truly believed she'd been wronged for being too kind. I knew she had been heavily medicated in the past for emotional problems, but really, truly believed that she'd "prayed herself better." I was 21. I was sad. I was dumb. It happens.

I feel even sorrier for her now. She was unable to blame men for anything, especially the horrible things they'd done to her. So she rained her fallout down on those who tried to help her and braved the explosions of her rage and insanity. And she always managed to find someone who would. It's like she sought out the caring-but-hesistant, a little naive, deeply devoted girl she used to be, then destroyed her over and over just like she was destroyed.

When I got her horrible, brutal email outlining all my sins and faults (many of which were blatantly untrue or intentionally misunderstood, leading me to question her rather tenuous hold on reality), I felt ripped open, exposed, vulnerable, humiliated...and utterly at fault for it. While not comparable in horror, the emotions afterward were unsettlingly rape-like. I wanted to tell everyone so they could tell me I was still good, but I was also so very ashamed and guilty that I wanted to hide it away forever and maybe just forget it ever happened. But mostly what I wanted was for her to like me. I begged forgiveness to no avail. I read back to her the script she'd written with those awful, unforgivable men who'd hurt her.

I'm not saying I was blameless. I'm sure I'd said stupid things or was a bit of a pain from time to time. What I didn't get at the time was that friendship is not reliant on perfection and nobody has the right to brutalize you if you never meant to hurt anyone. This was like beating a child with a belt for knocking over her milk. She contacted everyone we both knew and threatened them if they spoke to me. She had a friend of hers call and terrorize me in the middle of the night months later. And all this time, she herself hid behind an impenetrable wall of silence. I can just now say to myself that even if I did something wrong, I didn't deserve that.

It's taken every second of the time since then to move past those feelings. Before, my friends had been the cornerstone of my life--my one and only constant. Suddenly, I felt like I had nothing, when someone you love so very, very much could just disappear in a flash of anger one night, completely out of the blue--and so soon after the friend I'd had the longest disappeared herself in a flash of headlights plowing into her one night, completely out of the blue. But the people I'd know all along, my true best friends kept me grounded. And then I made some new friends, who patiently ignored my paranoia until I could slowly trust them. And then someone decided to legally obligate himself to being with me. I'm better now and I can make friends like a normal person, for the most part. It comes back, now and then, but fainter and fainter every time. Soon, maybe, I will be able to tell stories about the fun we had with an eye roll and a quick wish for her healing.

I've forgiven her, that much is true. But what startled me is that I'm no longer afraid of her. She showed up on Facebook not long ago as a suggested "Someone You Might Know." I looked at her picture, one'd she'd taken when we were still in college. The same bright black eyes, the same mischevious smile. I felt an instant of panic, and then an intense rush of pity. I stared at her for a moment, then clicked X. No, I don't know her. I never really did. At least now I know me.

I Need a Buddy

2009-02-06T19:52:00.002-08:00

Would someone pretty please become a fan of The Pierces so I can talk about them? I <3 them and have no one to squee with :( I'll even make you a CD if you think you might be able to love them a little. They sing about revenge, murder, and S&M in sweet little voices. They make me be happy.

When We Find Ourselves in the Place Just Right

2009-01-20T17:54:00.004-08:00

The inaugural ceremonies were running a bit behind today. What was so carefully orchestrated to have president Barack Obama take the oath exactly at noon, when he officially became president, instead had him become our first black president as a quartet of the most talented musicians in the world played an air based on this Shaker hymn:

'Tis a gift to be simple, 'tis a gift to be free,

'Tis the gift to come down where you ought to be,

And when we find ourselves in the place just right,

'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

When true simplicity is gain'd,

To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,

To turn, turn will be our delight,

Till by turning, turning we come round right.

One day after we celebrate Dr. King's achievements, less than 50 years after we received his call to join his dream, just over a hundred since Lincoln freed the slaves, we've come 'round right.

How CAN'T You Be a Hero With a Name Like "Sully"?

2009-01-16T17:45:00.002-08:00

Everybody lives, Rose! Just this once, everybody lives!"

The Doctor, Doctor Who "The Doctor Dances".

I grinned like an idiot the whole time I watched this on the news.

Rites of Passage

2009-01-09T10:40:00.004-08:00

In Promiscuities, Naomi Wolf talks about the lack of rites of passage in Western culture between childhood and womanhood. I think she has a valid point about the place they fill. It also made me realize that, as atheists, MS will raise our children with even fewer mile markers than the already depleted stock of options we have in America: no baptism, no confirmation, no bat mitzvah, nada.

In my head, I've devised all manner of interesting things that could be placeholders, but I'm curious about others' perspectives. I know there's a part of infant baptism that I love that comes from its basis in pagan naming rituals: right before the baby's name is announced, the preacher asks "Who will stand up with this child?" Then, people chosen by the parents OR (and I like this one) anyone willing to take a stake in it, stands up with the family and vows to help teach the child to be a good person and to be there for them and to be a positive role model. Then, you drop some water on the kids and tell everyone their name.

Similarly, some tribal cultures re-name a child with a name they choose themselves at some coming of age point. I like that, too, and I see a variation of that a lot--not a full scale name change, but at a certain age, many kids with diminutives ask to be know by their full names or a more adult nickname (Pams become Pamelas, Jackies become Jaclyns, Wills become Williams, Dannys become Daniels; even I lobbied at about age 13 to change my diminutive name to the original name it was supposed to be but that was vetoed by my dad for being to masculine. I was supposed to be a Holland). I think it would be cool to have some kind of announcement in a rite of passage ceremony. But that's just me.

So tell me--what rites of passage have you seen that touched you in some way? How does one who bases life on logic navigate the spirit world of growing up? What was your moment?

Shut Up, Oprah

2009-01-06T15:30:00.004-08:00

Dear Oprah,

You have spent the last of my good will. When you were howling and gnashing your teeth because you'd gained weight, I felt sorry for you for being so sad about yourself. Then it started to get old. Then, today, you kept saying you "fell off the wagon" and accused others of "falling off the wagon" and you used that phrase over and over and over.

A little riddle for you--
Q: How is being kind of fat like relapsing into drug and alcohol addiction?
A: IT'S NOT!

I've learned an awful lot about addiction and what it does to people over the last few months. Let me tell you something. It takes some real gall to compare your inability starve yourself into some ridiculous cultural beauty ideal to the hell that is addiction. Last time I checked, you getting fat effected, uh, let's see...there's you. Then there's you. Oh! And of course, you. I think that about covers it. Meanwhile, alcoholics and drug addicts can cause their families to become homeless, force their children into foster care, commit crimes to feed the addiction and even mutate or kill their fetuses! When you relapse, you have to go to Macy's and buy some new pants. You do not have to get lost and abused by the justice system, beg for the right to even visit your family, or lose everything you have.

It really sucks that society has the kind of pressure on you that you must discount all your myriad accomplishments based solely on a number on a scale. I mean, it really sucks. But trust me, it doesn't crystal-meth-habit suck, ok?

So please, before you start really hurting people, shut up, Oprah.
-

Lady Marm-waylayed

2008-12-19T21:56:00.003-08:00

Thanks Cuz.

Pick 15 of your favorite movies.
Go to IMDb and find a quote from each movie.
Post them here for everyone to guess.
NO GOOGLING/using IMDb search or other search functions.

1. "Oh, George... not the livestock."
2. "It would take more than the words than a drunken adolescent girl to rob me of my desire of you."
3. "Let's just say if I had an ass, I'd wipe it with twenties."
4. "You fool. No man can kill me. Die now."
"I am no man!"
5. "Sometimes it's a hard world for small things."
6. " Moo, motherfucker, moo"
7. "I'm an English teacher, not fucking Tomb Raider."
8. "Anything so innocent and built like that just gotta be named Lucille."
9. "I always thought it was "hey nonny no, nanny ninny no" and I'm getting kind of confused with all the nannies and the ninnies."
10. "As I bled to death, as my very life oozed out of me, all I could think of was something the great Negro James Baldwin had written. "People pay for what they do, and still more for what they have allowed themselves to become, and they pay for it, very simply, by the lives they lead."" (there were only, like, five quotes on IMDB for this movie. If anyone gets it, well, I'm gonna be your bff)
11. "You'd better flush out your head, new guy. This isn't about freedom; this is a slaughter. If I'm gonna get my balls blown off for a word, my word is "poontang"." (however, this entire movie seemed to be transcribed...)
12. "There's a ninety-five pound Chinese man with a hundred sixty million dollars behind this door. "
13. "Some folks are gonna say I'm doin' all this so I can sit up in the hereafter and look down on a park named after me, or that I was disappointed in you - didn't want you to get all that money. But the real reason, Becky, is because I love you, and I want you and some young man to have what I had, because all the gold in the United States Treasury and all the harp music in heaven can't equal what happens between a man and a woman with all that growin' together. I can't explain it any better than that."
14. "Oh, excuse me, madame, sorry, this may see strange but, have you seen a falling star anywhere?"
15. "I just want you to feel you're doing well. I hate for people to die embarrassed."

A Response to Someone Likeminded

2008-12-12T14:34:00.005-08:00

First, go read C's post about bodies.

This is one of my pet subjects, and as that Fat Feminist, I'd like to chime in and expand on my point a bit. It's flattering that she still remembers that conversation. Cool.

I equate body size (large or small) to homosexuality because there is a control factor. A gay man can control the outward expressions of his sexuality in order to approximate the norm. He can date women, marry one, have children with her, etc. But at what psychic cost? It is not, nor will it ever be, who he is. However, a heteronormative society can still push him to live in a way that is contrary to his nature because sexual expression is something we can, in a way, control. Further, it is said to be for his own good because his abnormality is a "disease" (homosexuality wasn't removed from the DSM until 1973).

Similarly, I can be (and have been) an "acceptable" size. This was accomplished through means that were unnatural, unhealthy, and, eventually, dangerous, both physically and mentally. But it technically could be done. If I had enough "control" or "willpower" then I could do it. It would not be me. I would not be healthy. But it is possible. (Sidenote--and this is based on BMI, which, according to more stuff than I really want to go into on a Friday night is baloney). And that's what's so seductive.

I hear that I choose to be fat. If you want to be technical, yes, that is true. I choose to not do bad, mean things to myself in order to look like somebody else wants me to. Fine. You know what? I don't owe my body to anyone. Even if I am a woman, I am not obligated to please anyone with my appearance. I eat in a way that makes me feel energetic, satisfied without being overly full, and healthy. I am never going to get thin that way. For that I have to eat, say, a piece of dry toast for breakfast, a carton of fat free yogurt for lunch, and a bowl of plain white rice for dinner, then throw up half the rice because it has starches in it, all in the course of working a 14 hour day at three difference jobs. That is the true story of how I got down to a size ten. What sucks is I didn't even get to enjoy that size because I was too busy starving to death.

None of this is to say that EVERYONE should be fat and NO ONE should ever lose weight. I've lost a small amount weight recently as a function of not being miserable at my new job. Lots of people overeat due to depression, or don't know how to make intuitive food choices, or grow up with Southern moms who don't eat vegetables and maybe eating in a way that is more healthy for them might, as a by-product, cause them to lose weight. But it's just that--a by-product of making yourself better. My point is that no one should feel obligated to look like something. Because you know what? Even if I could help it--even if I sat around stuffing my face with burgers and twinkies and lard lollypops all day, I still don't owe anyone my body! Like being gay, me being fat does not effect anyone else one goddam bit.

And a note to Oprah: Do you, the most successful woman in the world, really want to beat yourself up for failing to disappear yourself sufficiently?

Things My Dog is Afraid Of

2008-12-08T12:47:00.002-08:00

1. Willie Nelson

2. Chihuahua puppies

3. Dew

4. Frogs

5. Turtles

6. Christmas trees

7. Plastic sacks

8. Grid patterns of any sort

9. Gutters

Well, I Never!

2008-11-10T19:23:00.007-08:00

*Note: There seems to be a real chance of this becoming a political blog since this whole Obama thing went down. Well, sort of political. If by political you mean "Lame old married lady e-stalking the President and his family," then yes.

For some reason I can't begin to fathom, lots of anti-Obama folks have latched onto this picture:

Number one, it's fake. Number two, um...what? Really? This is all you've got? You "busted" him on smoking? He already admitted that. (Bonus for those of you who actually read article number two and noticed that this filthy habits consists [consisted?] of three Marlboros a day. I have to smoke twice that many just listening to one of his speeches. I applaud him for not having to burn down a pack every time he passes a mirror.)

Most importantly, though, how on Earth does making him look like a member of the Rat Pack help degrade him? Now I'm no political scientist, but I'ma guess that photoshopping your opponent up to look like a black Humphrey Bogart is only slightly less effective than, say, attacking his adorable children.

Here's lookin' at you, beautiful, smart, endearing, multi-racial kid.

Dude better screw something up and quick or we're going to have to listen to four years of people slamming him for adopting his daughters a puppy.

Fucking Stupid Extremists

2008-11-09T02:00:00.008-08:00

Wow. I almost, out of habit, typed "fucking stupid country," but, um...it would appear I don't really believe that anymore. And you want to know why?

Because President (I know, right????) Obama is Hypnotizing Us!

You are getting sleeeepy...possibly because for the first time in eight years we don't feel the crushing weight of an incompetent government bent on bringing about the Apocalypse.

Apparently, "using rhetorical strategies to create an engaging and persuasive argumentative speech" is the same as "bewitching the masses with hypnosis."

People, this has gone on long enough! For centuries, our country has been duped by an evil flood of Svengali who used their nefarious powers to sucker us into implementing social change that leads to further fulfillment of our own social contract, The Constitution! Is this the kind of charlatan you want running your country??

Old Abe wasn't so honest after all!

Besides those techniques discussed in the paper such as "repetition" and "appeal to emotions," Obama and his shaman predecessors also resorted to such base tactics as "using logic and reasoning" and "convincing people that they are worth something."

These two were the masters.

If the last eight years have taught us nothing, we should at least know by now that a real leader is a surly bully that doesn't give a shit about how the public perceives him, gleefully stomps on those less fortunate, and MOST IMPORTANTLY has absolutely zero command of the English language. Because people who talk right and make sense are gay.

!

2008-11-05T06:25:00.002-08:00

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hours from Midnight

2008-11-04T17:26:00.006-08:00

Tomorrow, I hope more than anything in this world that I wake up in a dream. Tonight, we find out of my niece will be born in an America willing elect a black president. If they can elect the child of a single mother. I wanted to pontificate for a while, but I don't have the words in me. I just hope.

Now, for some videos!

This first video is supposed to be funny, and it is, but it still gave me chill bumps. Don't give up on it until at least 1:53:

Les Misbarak

This one is not supposed to be funny:

Do You Hear the People Sing?

And in case you forget what the hubub is about:

One Voice

Calling All Scientist--Explanation Needed

2008-09-10T10:31:00.006-07:00

I've been keeping up with the Large Hedron Collider for a while now because, well, I like science. And scientists. Anyway, today was the big day when they finally fired up the big guy and sent a particle screaming through all 17 miles of, uh, tunnel? Machine? Collider? Whatever. It worked! Now we can experiment on particles! We can see how the Big Bang worked! We can create dark matter and black holes! We can test---wait, what?

Last time I checked, black holes weren't a desirable side effect of doing science. We're not talking about Silly Putty here. And dark matter? Are you sure? Really? Let's not forget what happened last time we decided to screw around with particles we didn't understand.

This creates a big dilemma for me. My default setting is "Trust Science. Don't overreact. " I really don't want to be the kind of person who wrote "Here There Be Dragons" on maps and took comet pills. But I'm just not getting this and need someone to explain it to me. That's the problem with having an Art Brain. No matter how much you like science and study it, there's still a chunk of stuff you don't intuit on your own that have to do with details and HOW things work. So, someone with a Science Brain? I would like some answers:

1. Um...why is this a good idea?

2. I mean, if we have no idea what's going to happen when we bash these things together, maybe we should do a little research first?

3. Why is this useful? Don't get me wrong, I'm 1000% in favor of research for the sake of research. You never know what kind of stuff you'll learn. But the way I see it, the programs works like this:

*Spend a kabajagillion dollars on making a ...thing.

* Use kabajagillion dollar thing to do...something.

* You don't know what the something is, but there's a chance it could be really really bad.

What I want to hear is that this is not as stupid an idea as it seems prima fascia. Like I said, I haaaate questioning science. I always expect someone to come up and pat me on the head and tell me not to tax my poor lady brain, why I don't take some nerve tonic and paint a picture about how the scawwy scawwy science makes me feel and let the grown-ups take care of things. I don't even want to make the old "Isn't there a better way to spend (X) dollars?" argument. Because it's Sweden, and they totally have their shit together. They can spend their money on whatever because their people are well taken care of.

So, in short, I just want to understand this whole thing and I need a good scientist to do the 'splainin.

The Olympics Are Over, But the Party Goes On

2008-08-26T14:31:00.004-07:00

I keep trying to write something about it, but it always looks like this:

FREE!
Fifty-cent hot dogs!
Fireworks!
Leon Russel!
Fireworks
FREE!
OMG I LUV QT 4EVA ZOMG!

Click on the picture to go to the web page and learn more.

100th Post in Honor of the Olympics

2008-08-16T10:22:00.006-07:00

Let's celebrate with beautiful pictures!

German volleyball team celebrates victory.

Two opponents help a German player up after he faints.

Brazilian soccer team does the native war dance before a game.
EDIT: Actually, it is NEW ZEALAND doing the traditional Maori Haka war dance. Videos can be found on YouTube, naturally.

German (seriously what's up with that? I'm moving to Berlin) rowers collapse after a race.

French swimmer helps his teammate.

Four years is much too long.

Are You There, God? It's Me, MF

2008-07-18T18:30:00.004-07:00

Dear Baby Jesus,

I need a job. In part because we need money, but that's not really why. The reason is that I am BORED. Could I clean the house better? Keep up with my laundry? Exercise another hour a day? Yes, I could do those things. But I have been doing those things for, oh, some time now and I'm kind of tired of doing them to the exclusion of all else. I could also read more books, look at more porn, and paint more pictures. All fun, until that is ALL YOU HAVE TO DO EVER.

Don't get me wrong, not working is still far, far superior to teaching. But, see, I've had at least one job, usually more, since I was 15, and while this whole taking it easy thing was cool for a while, I'm kind of over it. So, anyway, if you could just send a cashier position at Vintage Stock my way, that'd rock.

Thanks,
Mary Flannery-Scientist

Authority = Questioned

2008-07-10T11:00:00.003-07:00

Last night, while reading this awesome book, I realized that this has been my summer of staring social constructions of right, wrong, good, bad, moral, and immoral right in their faces and giving them the third degree. Some, it turns out, I like and want to keep (like monogamy, although if someone else isn't into it, that's a-ok too, as long as no one gets hurt). But most of them, I realize, are illogical at best, harmful at worst.

It started when I stumbled across this slideshow. Go watch it. I'll wait. Anyway, something in the back of my mind had always been calling shenanigans on the BMI and the whole "thinner is healthier" business to begin with, but the indoctrination was so heavy that I just assumed I was being stupid, as we women are often taught to think when we're going against the norm (especially involving beauty). But the more I read about HAES and the dark side of the weight loss industry, the more everything made sense. I could go into a lifetime of disordered eating and not listening to my own body, but we all have that story.

This whole not-second-guessing-myself on when and how I feel healthy started a coup. I realized that I had received some spectacularly bad medical care in the past. So, then I'm questioning the perfect, infallibility of doctors. And hell, since everything in my life is suddenly unglued, then let's just go all the way.

Why the hell do we have to wear clothes when it's hot, I wondered. So MS and I went here. I was absolutely terrified. It was awful and humiliating. Then I got out of the car. These were the nicest people I've ever met. There was zero judgment. Zip. Nada. After a lifetime of only seeing bodies approved by the entertainment industry, I was SHOCKED at the variety of shapes and sizes and colors and ripples and bulges and dents that people come in. I had always just assumed I was defective or looked weird or wrong and under their clothes, everyone else looked like the people from movies and porn. Not so much, actually.

Ironically enough, this is the least sexualized I've ever felt in my life. There was no "gaze." The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. As a society, we sexualize what is forbidden to be seen, ergo the Victorian eroticization of ankles. The gaze is like a lazer, its intensity ratcheted up by narrow focus. Widen it out more and more, and it defuses into the ether.

So now it's like a hunger. I'm looking at everything, trying to see what I believe in because society tells me to versus what I really believe in. I'm wondering where it will go next.

Mock Chicken Legs

2008-07-09T14:41:00.001-07:00

3 1/2 lb. pork steak (shoulder blade)
1 lb. veal steak (top round steak)
Skewers (from butcher)
Corn flake crumbs or bread crumbs

Debone meat. Cut in cubes. Put on wooden skewers. Roll in flour and egg, beaten with a little water. Then roll in bread crumbs or corn flake crumbs. (Put a little salt in bread crumbs.) Brown in oil in frying pan. Put 1/2 inch water in large baking pan. Slice onions on top of meat and bake uncovered at 350 degrees for 1 1/2 - 2 hours. Keep checking water level. Take cover off last 20 minutes.

Why?

Almost Independence Day

2008-07-02T13:59:00.003-07:00

Transcription of an actual phone call:

Meredith: So, what are you doing tonight?
Me: It's my wedding anniversary.
Meredith: Oh wow! So what kind of specialness do you have planned.
Me: Uh...I don't know. There will probably be a movie involved somewhere. And video games.
Meredith: Oh, you're not anniversary people.
Me: Actually, uh, well, we are. We're just incredibly boring.
Meredith: I see...

In fact, it was FAR more exciting than that! While we did go to a movie (The Happening, which, by the way, ew. The dialog is worse than Phantom Menace. Swear), we also did our favorite thing in the world: fucking around town. We got tapioca tea, we went to the comic shop, we went to Toys R Us, we went to fancy dinner where we just ordered a bunch of appetizers (fried goat cheese balls. Mmmmmm.....), and then we read books and went to sleep and it was AWESOME. So, yeah.

I'm Comin' Out!

2008-06-27T21:07:00.004-07:00

Since I am no longer a teacher, and since I am careful not to use my name on here so employers could find it in a Google search, I'm going public, World. And you know what? I love the whole world. It's such a happy place. Boom-de-ah-dah, boom-de-ah-dah, boom-de-ah-dah, boom-de-ah-dah.

In celebration, I'm going to write my own verse(s). Will you do the same?

I love bad movies,
I love the swimming pool.
I love not teaching,
And Daniel's really cool.
I love the whole world,
It's a start-over place.

Boom de ah dah, boom de ah dah
Boom de ah dah, boom de ah dah

I love the fireworks
Especially homemade ones.
I love good home brew,
And marshmallow guns.
I love the whole world,
It's an explosive place.

Boom de ah dah, boom de ah dah
Boom de ah dah, boom de ah dah

I love Marvel,
And I love Batman, too.
I talk about them
And stay up late with you.
I love the whole world,
It's such a super place.

Boom de ah dah, boom de ah dah
Boom de ah dah, boom de ah dah

Too Fucking Old for this Shit

2008-05-25T14:20:00.004-07:00

Last night, after sitting through the BTW graduation ceremony (stupid smart kids with all of them graduating), D and I decided to go to Majestic. While walking in, I mused aloud, not really thinking about it that hard, how old we'd be when we were "too old for this."

A woman says to the universe,
"Sir, am I too old?"
The universe replied
"Yes."

The first clue came when I was talking to some cool people I met out on the porch. They were fun, interesting, and liked the same stuff I do. I can't recall why, but for some reason I remarked "Ok, seriously, don't tell me you're, like, 21." One smiled beatifically and said "Hey! It's my birthday today and I'm 22! So no!" To which his friend replied "Oh, come on, what, are you like twenty-six or something?" Then they laughed at how unspeakably old 26 is. Which I was two years ago. Great.

On its heels came the real shocker. As you (most) all know, Majestic employs a delightful selection of shirtless eye candy as the bar and wait staff. One such stripped young man approached our table to take away some empties. As he reached for my empty vodka tonic, our eyes met and we exchanged a look of fear and terror: I teach that kid! "Kevin?" I gasped (not his real name). He didn't speak, just gave a frightened "I didn't see you if you didn't see me" head shake and ran off. The next time he came out, he was wearing a t-shirt.

I was reeling. We polished off more drinks and the evening and while contemplating these events, I got the death blow. On a 3 a.m. infomercial, Sugar Ray was shilling a box set of the 120 greatest "new rock" hits that "bring back those great memories." Every. Goddam. Song. was what I listened to in high school.

So I guess I'll trade in my cute plaid knee shorts and McNellie's tee for some high waisted flowered capris and a cap sleeve, scoop neck tucked in Ann Taylor twinset. Maybe I'll get some Crocs. I'm probably already spontaneously pregnant with a child named after a northern state or an ancestor's last name that has ADHD and a peanut allergy. I'll start freaking out about everything and quit hanging out with black people. We'll move somewhere that the streets have at least two, preferably three digits and there's no plaster for little Darden Montana to get under his fingernail. MS will no longer participate in the care and upkeep of our household and I'll suddenly weigh about 100 lbs less, but still obsess over my "trouble spots" at pilates (but not the pilates at the Y because there are homeless people there), thinking that maybe if I'm pretty enough he'll stop watching football and playing Halo 3 long enough to let me take a shower. I'll straighten my hair, get a layered bob, bleach it, and wear turquoise jewelry and the stuff they sell at Mayfest (not Bluedome. In fact, I will never go to Bluedome again). I'll join Weight Watchers. I'll only drink pink wine. I'll feel "so bad" for having Starbucks. I'll like Starbucks. I won't let men be nice to my kids because someone was once a molester one time and it was on PrimeTime Live.

Fuck it, dude. I'll just have to be the old lady at the gay bar.

Could We Get Some Motherfucking Human Rights in Here?

2008-03-29T10:25:00.004-07:00

Go watch this and be horrified. Then sign something.

Not about China or Tibet.

In Which MF-S Goes Mad

2008-03-22T18:52:00.004-07:00

Fuck. 2008. Seriously.

December was the prologue--we buy a new house and then that bitch-ass ice storm rolls in. Had to get a running start, right? So we get power back, plumbing goes out for about four days and for two of those in the center, I have a stomach virus. You do the math on that one. I rang in the year sitting on the toilet barfing into a trash can. While that is not the first time I've embraced a new year that way, it was certainly the first time it wasn't my own fool fault. This, really, should have told me something.

To my credit, I'm not dead, I am (barring some kind of horrific Oregon tragedy, god forbid) still married, and we do have said house.

But two days after to dropped, like, more cash than I'd like on a shiny new Y membership, what happens?
I get whiplash.
From sneezing.
Really.
No, really.
No! Really!
I've spent over a month nearly bed-ridden: work, home to heating pad, up to work, home to heating pad, etc. etc. etc. The fictional character I most identify with is quickly changing from The Ugly Girl in Flannery O'Connor's "Revelation," Enid from Ghost World, and Rose Tyler from Dr. Who (shut up) to Jack Torrence from (the movie version of) The Shining. "Danny, I'm coming!"

Also, I hate my job, but we're not going to go into that, because really I'm pretty sick of talking about it and you all know teaching public high school is inherently heinous.

And also? I've been reading so many naughty British stories that I'm starting to write like a Brit. So, hey, pretentious to cap it off. (Like just now! I had to go back and change "centre" to "center").

But whatever. Nobody likes a complainer, yeah? I'm gonna saddle up, to to Reasor's and look for bananas. That'll fix it right up.

UPDATE: So...did ya'll know that withdrawal from narcotics such as those used to treat, oh say whiplash, cause nausea, restlessness, aches, and SEVERE DEPRESSION. How 'bout that? I'm not crazy, I'm just getting a very small monkey off my back. Hence the craving for bananas, I suppose...