Halloween

So, over the last, oh 15 years or so, I've developed this hate of Halloween. Not so much the actual day itself or the pumpkins or costumes. As a kid, I loved Halloween and (if I may brag a little) often won contests at elementary school because my mom made me such awesome costumes. One year I was the Betty Crocker Hamburger Helper Helping Hand. Huge, huge chicken wire cloth covered thing that I had to hold up on my body. In the third grade. One year I was a butterfly wearing all black except for the wings, which were these huge poster board pieces with layers of different colored tissue paper between them and intricately cut out designs on the wings. (Yes, Mom was a talented craftswoman, a trait I sadly never developed...couldn't even finish a hook rug). One year in the fourth grade, I was a green dragon with a huge paper mache head and the body of it was a bunch of my classmates (except for Kim who puked right before the contest and we kicked her out of the suit -- I heard rumor that she's out in Hollywood now, big in the entertainment industry). I loved going trick or treating with the neighbor boys. We mapped out the entire town and X'd out the houses that gave out stupid popcorn balls or pennies. When we got home, we'd sort through the bounty and trade. Didn't we all do that as kids? Who didn't love Halloween?

Well, somewhere along the way as I grew up and started living on my own and it was at that point I began to despise Halloween. Specifically:I hate when little kids come to my door and ask for candy. Hello!? What is my problem? Have I turned into Grumpy Old Lady with the X'd out house who never turns on her lights or answers her door? Lordy, it's gotten so bady lately that I simply avoid even being home on Halloween. I just refuse to be there and have to deal. So tonight we're going out to dinner and a movie. Happy Halloween!

Swoopes, there it is!

Holy shit, one of the greatest women's basketball players, Sheryl Swoopes just came out as gay. This is huge for the sport...I can't believe I had no clue. Swoopes, there it is! You go girl!

Using Music For Good and Evil

Last night, I stayed out past bedtime to go to the Metric show. Lots of hipsters and young ones at the show (all ages) but I luckily wasn't the oldest one there (though close to it by my calculation. We occupied some of our time by people watching: I was sure I spotted two undercover policemen acting very suspicious and secretive, moving around the place, checking out this gaggle of 18 year olds (turns out they were just from another country). My ears are still ringing, but it was a great show, lots of cool energy. I go through periods where I never go to any shows and then bam, I'm at 2 in 5 days and considering another one on Sun.

However, you can bet I will not be going to any upcoming Prussian Blue shows. A snippet from that article, which you should read: Known as "Prussian Blue" — a nod to their German heritage and bright blue eyes — the girls from Bakersfield, Calif., have been performing songs about white nationalism before all-white crowds since they were nine. "We're proud of being white, we want to keep being white," said Lynx. "We want our people to stay white … we don't want to just be, you know, a big muddle. We just want to preserve our race."
Nice, huh?

Apparently, these 12 year olds believe that we can change color at will, which shows you the level of sophistication we're dealing with here. Sadly, I fear they'd do well in Topeka.

Head on

So, now that it's fall, deer season is upon us and it's always a problem out here. Because I drive about 60 miles roundtrip on a highway next to a bunch of open fields and pastures (and because I once hit two deer in a Ryder truck with sheesh), I'm very hypervigilant about them. Each morning on the way to work, I count how many huge blotches of red paint the highway. It's not a pretty site and I'm paranoid when dusk approaches. However, I wonder if I will be able to take the advice in this local story and overcome instinct: Intentionally hit something (anything) head-on in your car at full speed, without trying to swerve. Aye.

Venezia

ps. With Viv's latest excursion to Italy, I can only hope she comes back inspired with more of something like this story, my all-time favorite.

But I'll also take more of this or this or this. Heck, I'll even take some of this, with a side of this.

Not only am I the president of Hair Club for Viv, but I'm also a client!

Take the first shot, baby

So on Sunday, I went to see Amy Ray doing her solo thing, to see if the love was still there. Alas and alak, time seems to change everything and while she still rocks the boat, I can't say I'm all into the direction she's sailing. Her solo stuff leaves me uninspired, except for a few rare gems (like Laramie or Measure of Me), I think her creativity is better channeled through IG. Solo stuff feels too cliched or something, not sure what it is, but none of it resonates. I want Starkville or Don't Give that Girl a Gun or Hand Me Downs. Instead, it's Lucystoners. And cliche of lesbian cliche, Bitch opened with spoken word. I like the tradition of using song for political activism, but perhaps I've reached my limit or the music doesn't sound right. I don't need a queer anthem singer anymore, give me back my old skool angsty folk rockers.

Keep 'em scared

Timing of terror alerts and this administration's low points: Coincidence? You be the judge.

Going down

Fans of women's basketball and folks who support social justice and equality might like to keep up with the tale of Rene Portland, Penn State's basketball coach who is currently (and perpetually?) on the hot seat for dismissing players for being lesbians. One player, Jen Harris who says she is not gay, was kicked off last year's team because she was perceived by Portland to be gay. For obvious reasons, I'm no Rene Portland fan and I'd really like Penn State to take an aggressive approach to actually doing something about this issue (i.e. Rene) that has festered there unchecked for many years. It's bullshit and needs to stop.

You can keep up with this story (and others) at Ted's excellent site Women's Hoops Blog and on Rebkell's Junkie Board. I highly recommend both if you're a fan of women's sports and bball in particular.

Dial "B" for Boobie!

I should like to recount a conversation I had last night in which I discovered my predilictions are sometimes quaint dinner conversation topics for New Yorkers. A little backstory: I met Viv and her Mrs years ago when we all lived together in a hippy commune in upstate New York (Viv wrote sonnets, Mrs cataloged the commune's coinage, and I perfected my skills in interpretive dance; those were happy times). Over the years, we've travelled the globe taking our show on the road and occasionally checking into Betty Ford together. Once V and Mrs settled into New York City proper, she and I continued to communicate via a nationwide system of mimes and the occasional phone call (often looking for bail money and/or coordinating our next rehab appointment). I don't call as often as I used to since finding out that the Mrs doesn't particularly appreciate 4am phone calls from slurring Midwesterners. So, point being, it is a rare moment when we are both available and awake for phone conversation. Last night was one such occasion.

While having dinner and drinks with friends here in town, I happened to notice a notice for an upcoming show by a band Viv had turned me on to (that band is Metric. When I saw that, I immediately thought "I must tell Viv. And also find out about her upcoming trip to Rome!". So on the drive home (yes, driving and talking on the phone are bad (but not illegal out here in the West yet), mmkay), I dialed up the East Coast (after checking the time to make sure that 10pm was still within the window of acceptibility for Mrs). Here is a snippet of the conversation reproduced:

Mrs (anwering): Hello?
Me: Hi, is this Mrs?
Mrs: Yes.
Me: Hey, it's Me!
Mrs: Who?
Me: Me!
Mrs: Me?
Me: Yeah, Me..you know, we had that threesome together once? Don't tell me you forgot? Upstate New York? The hippy commune? You were wearing the coin hat?
Mrs: Ohhh, Me! It's kind of early for you to call isn't it?
Me: Yes! How are you? What are you doing?
Mrs: Good. Actually, we were just talking about you.
Me: What? Why would you be talking about me?
Mrs: We were talking about how you like big boobies.
Me: What?!
Mrs: You like them, don't you?
Me: Well, yes, but...um, are you kidding me? Were you really just talking about me and my fondness for such things?
Mrs: Yes.
Me: I find that hard to believe, one of the few times I call you guys and you're talking about me and boobies?
Mrs: Yep.
Me: How did that come about, if I can ask?
Mrs: Well, we were, I don't know, in the kitchen or something and Viv reached over and grabbed my boob..
Me: uh huh..
Mrs: ..and I said something like "Too bad Me isn't here, you two could share your love of big boobies"...
Me: uh huh..
Mrs: and then I think we both said something like "Yeah, it's too bad her current girlfriend isn't well-endowed"
Me: You are kidding me.
Mrs: Nope.
Me: So before I call you guys on the phone for the first time in like a year or months or something, you have been lamenting the state of my current breast situation.
Mrs: Yep.
Me: You are sick. I love it!

....extended conversation with Mrs about our sex lives (including frequency and techniques, etc; Viv in the background either cringing at the sharing or adding comments here and there)

Mrs: So, you wanna talk to V then?
Me: Sure! Love ya, don't go changin'
Viv: Sweetie, do you have any extra Xanax you can mail me, I'm flying to Rome in a week.
Me: Sweetie, shall I book our usual rooms at Betty Ford then? For you return?
Viv: This time I get the top bunk, darling..I'm tired of being on the bottom.
Me: I'm sure you are, sweetie, I'm sure you are..

And fade out.

So that was our phone conversation last night, more or less. Gotta run *kiss kiss*

Blast from past

So yesterday, out of the blue, I got an email from an old college friend of mine, MD, who I hadn't been in contact with since 1991ish..and who I could not find over the years searching the internet. Now, I first met MD on the very first day I moved into the all-girl dorm I lived in for a year at a large Midwestern university [2 things: 1) this was prior to realizing I preferred "all-girl" to "co-ed" if you catch my drift; 2) after being written up three times (a. being part of a group who broke the elevator by cramming 20 people in it, b. drinking in the dorm, and c. fighting with a girl who stole my fake id -- yes I was badass back in the day), the Dorm Officials "suggested" I live off-campus mext year].

So I met MD on that first day because she was playing music in her room down the hall and that band was Berlin. Yes, this was 1989. So we bonded in the way young women do when they've left home for the first time and are thrown together in an all-girl dorm 24/7. Not in that way, but I can't say that I didn't develop my second official Girl Crush on her (see #1 though; and also 1st official Girl Crush was JM who was a senior on the golf team and who was perfect).

MD was from Chicago, so she was this big city girl to me, and she was Irish and she liked New Order and Eurasure and had long black hair and blue eyes and she was the shit. Off we went to fraternity parties, stayed up late doing the stupid stuff you do in college dorms your freshman year, off to Chicago for St. Patty's day, football games. We were constantly together for that first year, until she pledged a sorority and we saw less and less of each other. I do think she suspected I had a little thing for her and it probably made her uncomfortable, there was a distance between us that I now recognize. This was the late 80's after all, we were young, age and experience had yet to bring open-mindedness. I dare say that life has changed us both.

[In retrospect, to unconsciously compensate for developing a GC on her, I also developed a huge Boy Crush on her twin brother. Yes, twins, black haired, blue-eyed perfect Irish kids. He was just as hot as she was (maybe even moreso), though nothing ever came of it except me always hoping to catch him out at a party or whatnot (except a year after I graduated, we hooked up and I effectively put that crush to rest. I do have to say he was and still is probably the hottest guy I've ever..you know). Anyway. Where was I? Why am I telling you this?]

Oh, so over the years, I always wondered what happened to her, where she was etc. No luck finding her online, I wasn't in contact with any of our mutual friends who might know. Yesterday, after nearly 15 years, an email appeared in my inbox from her (with her married name in the email address) and pix of her husband and two children -- a little bit about what's she's been up to etc, we'll email back and forth, probably get in touch on the phone. It was just such an unexpected jolt, it really made my day though. I suspect I'm not the only one who has had an intense friendship with someone over a number of formative years, lost track of each other, and then that person reappeared out of the blue many years later. There are still a couple of people in my past I'm waiting to hear from, just like this.

It will be interesting to see if any of who we were back then remains. When I pull out the huge stack of pix I have from that time, of us, I see two 18-19 year old girls still negotiating childhood and independence, fresh-faced and (relatively) innocent. Now we're middle-aged women and it's weird how that time seems like it was forever ago yet still reachable in my memories. I know I'm the same, but very different. She's married with two children living just a state away from me. I wonder if she still listens to Berlin. I still have the leather coat she borrowed from me to go on a date with some guy. I gave her my 45 LP of "The Night Chicago Died", I found a letter last year at my mom's house that she wrote me the summer after our freshman year, she said she found a note I had written her at her mom's house. I know we both regret being mean to her roommate, BE. I wonder if she remembers or knew I had a crush on her.

Read to Achieve!

So on Thursday, I went to the bookstore and bought two books, this one because I am a geek, and this one because I need some fiction in my life. It's a good balance and I've added them both to my nightstand. When it comes to books, I like to have several going at a time, non-fiction are the best because I never forget where I'm at and can pick it up after however long. I prefer variety; what can I say? I'm all about having choices. As a consequence, it takes me forever to finish a book. So in addition to the above books, I'm also currently (and still) reading Gulag: A History (which is very informative though very dense and depressing), and Earth: An Intimate History (in my other life, I'd be a geologist), and On Food and Cooking (a whole chapter on milk, what more could you want?), and Patricia Highsmith bio (yes, Vivvy, still reading this! she's still sleeping her way through Europe), and The Portable Jung (this makes more sense on pot -- which I miss dearly), and A People's History of the Supreme Court (who were all those white men and how did they get there?), and Tao of Psychology (after an interesting discussion with my therapist), and, A History of the American People (now that I'm older, history is more interesting to me), and Backyard Astronomy (for quick reference and the names of all of the moon's craters!), and World Atlas (again for reference, not shrugging). I think that's all that's on my nightstand. In the meantime, I'll read a little fiction to escape. Finished the Harry Potter series (which I enjoyed more than I will admit) and when I was coming back from France this summer, I read Middlesex on the plane and trains.

I cut down on my magazine subscriptions because I just couldn't get through Atlantic Monthly and Harpers on a regular basis and so, felt guilty. I now get National Geographic, Cook's Illustrated, and Paste. I've decided I want my magazines to be full of pictures and easy to read. I get enough news online and I take a paper every day so I want my magazines to be relaxing.

It took me many years to get back into reading for pleasure. Grad school instilled a deep sense of guilt in me about reading anything that wasn't related to school or work. I think that's part of the reason I prefer non-fiction, I feel like I'm reading something useful + I'm just a big dork who, after many years of being trained in the liberal arts and social sciences, finds out she likes earth/physical science and history and politics a tad bit more. Nice! Maybe next week, I'll figure out what I want to be when I grow up too!

What are you reading these days? Anything good?

Supreme Court Nominee or 46-year old high school dropout boozer, user, and loser?

Some folks are saying Harriet Miers is really my hero Jerri Blank. Frankly, I think that's insulting to beavers everywhere.

Supreme Court Nominee or SNL's Rachel Dratch Character

You decide.

Beer beer beer beer beer

This weekend, I was at this, today I want to do this, but instead I have to do this, though I still could do this if there was sufficient arm twisting. It doesn't take much.


ps. I smell an Uber Xena story.