"I Love Things!" Thursdays - The One Where We Bring Sexy Back

Boy, do I have a lot of love this week, and you dear readers are going to get a double dose! Let's get started, shall we?

This Week I Love:

1. TV Mania

I wanted to write about this so badly last week, but I waited and it shot up to the top of the list today. Nick Rhodes and Warren Cucurrullo's side project TV Mania is finally happening. I could not be happier! It's no secret that I am an unabashed and lifelong Duran Duran fan. It's also common knowledge that Nick is my favorite member of the group and my favorite era was the Warren Years. I loved the sound he brought to the band - some really fantastic and yet underrated guitar work was going on then, especially on Liberty  and Medazzaland. I can't wait for this album to drop and I pray to all that is sacred and holy that they tour with it. The first time I saw Duran Duran was in 2000 when they toured Pop Trash (which, incidentally contained several reworked TV Mania songs) - this was shortly before Warren left and the original lineup reconvened  Warren is fantastic live. If they tour, you can expect to hear all about it, cus I'll be there with bells on, let me tell you. Passionate Love.

2. Deep Compilation: Fall 2012 

Not really, but still. Source

Who has two thumbs and is a legit copy editor? This girl right here. In addition to all the great and wonderful things I said yesterday about the Deep program and Deep Speaks!, I was also afforded the opportunity to help edit one of the anthologies, and in the back of the book I am acknowledged as an editor. Excited. Why? Because like Stanley Motss, I did it for the credit. Pride Love.

3. Steel Cut Oats

I LOVE OATS. From this site: Source

You know that little rhyme:

Peas porridge hot,
Peas porridge cold,
Peas porridge in the pot
Nine days old?

Well, this is me with steel cut oats - or as I call them "scroats" - at this time. Hot and savory with salt, pepper, olive oil, and cheese? Yes. Soaked overnight in pineapple Chobani and topped with bananas and coconut oil? Don't mind if I do. Soaked in black cherry Chobani with vegan dark chocolate? Get in my tummy right now.

But this week I got really creative: Almond Joy Mousse Oats. Yes, it is as good as it sounds, and so simple. Add cocoa powder and melted coconut butter to vanilla Chobani. Stir until completely combined. Add steel cut oats. Refrigerate for 12 hours. Eat.

The best part? I used the great big tub of Chobani and made enough to last all week. They got softer and thicker and richer every day. De-lish Love.

4. Daydreaming
Behind my eyes and between my ears is my absolute favorite place to be. As a mom, a wife, and an alleged "responsible adult", I don't have a lot of time for daydreaming or fantasies these days. However, this week it seems that I have been able to find some time. It has been glorious. The best part? I've been inspired to write more. Poems are happening, people. Prose is happening. I am inspired. I am having imaginary conversations with the people I admire most. I am learning about what makes me tick. I am happier. Uncle George was right, we all need more time for daydreaming. Dream Love.

5. Baking Better

Collins, I stole this because I don't have a picture of your smiling face! Source

When we were in Raleigh a couple of weeks ago, we had the good fortune to see all of our RTR pals and their significant others. Collins is my favorite non gaming friend from the Triangle, and I finally got his blog URL after all this time. I feel sort of dumb because www.bakingbetter.com shouldn't be so hard to remember, but I have a hard time with that sort of thing. I have added this little slice of culinary internet heaven to my blogroll now though, and I have been busy reading all the posts I missed in the year or so I've know it was there. Delicious recipes and stunning pictures abound. Even if you think you can't bake, go check it out. With Collins, you can! Cooking Love!

6. The Tummy Project

202 followers and growing! Source

Another far flung friend, Raynala has started The Tummy Project on Tumblr. It's tummy pictures and body acceptance and self love all over the place around there, which is fantabulous! I can't wait to get my tummy up there - I'm hoping to do a double tummy picture with That Sprout, showing that I earned my stripes (stretch marks). I encourage everyone who reads this to get out you camera and take a tummy picture to submit to the project. We humans come in all shapes and sizes and they are all beautiful. Help spread the Tummy Love, people!

*If you don't have a Tumblr account, please email me and I will pass your info on to Raynala!


7. Jim Nabors Got Married!

This is what LOVE looks like, people. Source

 Let me say it again: Jim Nabors GOT MARRIED! I am tearing up writing this because it makes me so happy. This is a huge deal for me as a gay rights advocate and as a lifelong fan of Jim Nabors. Some of you probably don't know who Jim Nabors is or why this is a big deal. Allow me to educate you:

Jim Nabors played Gomer Pyle on The Andy Griffith Show, and later on the spinoff series Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C. He was a simple North Carolina good ol' boy with a heart of gold. I love Gomer. I loved his cousin, Goober. I loved all things affiliated with the Andy Griffith show. And, of course, I love the gays.

Several years ago, I hear a rumor that had been circulating for years that Jim Nabors was gay. I paid this no nevermind. I am of the opinion that until you come out of the closet, your sexual orientation is of no concern to me. I forgot about it.

Then yesterday, I see online that Jim Nabors flew to Seattle from Hawaii with his partner of 38 years and tied the knot, thus legitimizing their relationship AND officially coming out of the closet at age 82. I understand that he kept his orientation under the radar all these years not out of repression, but because he is a private man. I get that. I respect that. But now that he has come out, I am so proud of him and so happy that he doesn't have to hide his true self from his fans any longer. I just want to find him and give him a great big hug. Jim Nabors and Stan Cadwallader, congratulations on your recent nuptials  You made me smile. I love that you made your love official. Equal Rights. Equal Love.

8. Overcoming Adversities as a Gay Teen: One Generation at a Time

This is what COURAGE looks like, which I LOVE. Source

This film was made by Devon Yaffe, a highschool student. It is incredible. The film began as a school project and turned into this feature lenghth documentary opus. I don't know what to say. I am so impressed with this project and I am especially happy that this young man reached out to gay men across generational divides. Clearly, these men all have similar stories despite their differences in age. This kind of thing is so important and really in the spirit of what First Person Narrative is all about. Clearly, I have a lot to learn about recording personal histories from young Mr. Yaffe. Love! Love! Love!

9. Texting

I've assimilated and that's okay. Source

I have given in to the beast, and I'm texting with some old friends that I've been missing (E.E. and J.W.). I prefer talking on the phone, but I love being in contact with these people again. People you love make life worth living. Of course, I refuse to devolve into text speak. Not happening, people. Not happening. Old Friends Love.

10. Wonderwall

There's not a lot to say here. I've been listening to this song on repeat. It is my life. 

"There are many thing that I would like to say to you, but I don't know how. But maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me. And after all, you're my wonderwall." Love song.

Wednesday Reflections #4

Good afternoon dear friends and gentle readers! You guys know the drill by now, right? Wednesday is the day Uranium J shares the good, the bad, and the ugly bits of her week. I so badly want to call this series "Slings and Arrows" because of my unadulterated love of Paul Gross, but I'm pretty sure that both a sling and an arrow are bad things. Alas.

Philosoraptor:
Not as cute as Paul Gross. Source

Lets get started, shall we?
Without a doubt, Deep Speaks! was the highlight of my week.

On Monday night Deep fellows, Deep kids  parents, family, and friends filled the Historic Savannah Theater.

Why? 

Because that night over 100 kids from 17 different schools in Chatham County became published authors . 

The books were distributed and then for the next hour and a half we were mesmerized by these incredible young voices as they read their work. Three of my own Deep kids read, and I was beaming the whole time, just like someone's mom. I am so incredibly proud of my kids from Georgetown Elementary, the work they produced, and of the work my teaching partner and I did with them. I can't wait to get back in the classroom - February 11 cannot come soon enough!

We made the marquee!!! Source

I want to thank everyone who works with Deep:

• All the Writing Fellows 
• The Board 
• The Kids 
• The Schools 
• The Parents 
• My teaching partner Mel 
• The three amigos who make it all happen: 
• Sarah Bates 
• Joanna Dasher
• Catherine Killingsworth

Each and every one of you is wonderful and I am so grateful to be a part of this outstanding organization. I am truly better for it. 

Also, thanks to 

• My friends Carl-Os and Ossiferly for supporting me, Deep, and my kids on Monday night - you made my night. 
• B.A. MooreCox and all the other babysitters who have allowed me the freedom to be involved in this organization 
• Mojo Jojo who has listened to and supported me through all of my trials and tribulations

 Lastly, many thanks to 

• j^C who has supported my teaching endeavors fiscally, emotionally, and with fantastic examples of  "how not to write", gleaned from some of his finest subordinates. Without all of you, nothing I have done would have been possible.

Best. Thing. Ever. Source

While we are on this high note, the second most fantastic thing I did this week was bake the cake I told you about yesterday as we discussed my kitchen follies. What I failed to mention is how happy I was baking that cake. See, cooking for my friends and family is just about my favorite thing to do. Although I was tired and I was frustrated because of the various sundry obstacles I encountered during the whole process, I got over that quickly and was really happy - especially when I got a favorable review from our guest of honor.

But even though I enjoy the praise, I find cooking to be a meditative act. I really needed to make that cake this weekend, for myself and my own sanity. As I was grating the carrots and assembling the batter I was totally present and immersed on the task at hand. I was happy. Life was good. There need to be more dinner parties and more cakes. It is good for my soul.

Yes, actually. Source

Other good things:

• I've resumed my morning walks 
• I've been spending more time with friends 
• I'm taking my meds 
• I am now part of a leadership team with Deep 

Lots of exciting things going on, as you can see.

Not so great?

• Weight loss is not really happening and the recent onset of ovary pain leads me to believe that the flippant diagnoses of PCOS I received in 2009 might have been more than bullshit. I have a ob/gyn appointment next week, so as soon as I know something, I'll post it here.
• That Sprout has been giving me a run for my money as of late. Screaming all through the night is so my favorite thing ever. Not. 
• Team "And They Never Found the Body" is no longer the undefeated reigning champion at Pub Trivia. Our loss was a humiliating blow, but moral is high and we are in good spirits. We fully intend to take back the top spot tonight. We are the champions!

Now, for the just plain weird:

• Cody Cornelius, sweet and neutered doggie dog that he is, took it upon himself last night to mount and hump the unsuspecting Molly Gator (who is spayed). For over an hour. They were both full of cheer and doggy smiles. Very disturbing to witness as j^C and I tried to have adult conversation.

Fresh From the UnderMooreWood Test Kitchen

Culinary antics and sugar laden shenanigans of
 B.A.MooreCox and Uranium J

I mentioned last week that FishForest Family friend, Carl-Os is preparing to leave on a Magical Mystery Tour. It also came to my attention last week that his birthday is right after he departs.  This made me really sad, as I am a sucker for birthdays. The idea of him sitting in some tin can on the other side of the world with no cake and no one making a fuss over him was too much for me. So, I offered to make him a cake and have an "Un-Birthday Party" over the weekend. He brought some homemade kielbasa (sp?) and sparkling cider while I made the cake and some pierogies.

For the uninitiated, these are pierogies. Source

It would behoove me to remember that when I offer to bake someone a cake, they are most assuredly not going to want whatever sort of cake I have in mind. I think Carl-Os is kind of a foodie and the notion of me baking a boxed mix was nixed as soon as it came out of my mouth. Alright I though. Surely a cake from scratch isn't that hard to make. I am happy to say that it wasn't. The only monkey wrenches came from the fact that Mr. Os knows carrot cake. He gave me a list of vital ingredients, and I couldn't find one recipe that contained them all. So, I did what great cooks have been doing since Prometheus brought us fire: I improvised. Here's the recipe I came up with: 

Uranium J's SuperDense Carrot Cake

(Patent Pending)

• .5 cup molasses

• 1 c butter

• 4 eggs

• .5 cup Meyer's Dark Rum

• .5 cup brown sugar

• 1 tsp vanilla

• 2 cups flour

• 2 tsp baking soda

• 1 tbsp cinnamon

• 1 tbsp allspice

• 1 tsp baking powder

• .5 tsp salt

• 3 cups finely shredded carrots*

Mix molasses, butter, eggs, rum, brown sugar, and vanilla in a large bowl. Stir together dry ingredients in a smaller bowl. Slowly beat dry ingredients into wet mixture. Stir in carrots. Pour into 2 greased, round, 9 inch cake pans. Bake @ 350 for 35 minutes.

* I recommend using a cheese grater. It's a pain and it takes forever, but I think it makes for a better texture.

The only issue I found was that the cake didn't really rise. I think that's OK though - it was dense and very moist, but not overpowering. 

After the cake was done, I decided to work on the cream cheese frosting. This is where things started to go awry. Apparently, unless you have a flipping stand mixer, you have to let your butter and cream cheese almost melt before beginning to work it.

I did not do that. 

I tried working with semi-softened butter and cream cheese. 

I broke my hand mixer. 

The beaters all but went whirring by my head. 

This was at 3AM Saturday morning, so I threw in the towel for the time being in favor of sleep. 

Of course, you know this happened. Source

At 8AM, I got up and got back to work. I set the butter and cream cheese out on the counter to soften and began working on the pierogies. I was quite nervous about this task since I was basically going up against Grandmother Os's cooking, and I had never made the things before. Turns out, other than being somewhat labor intensive, pierogies are not so hard to make. There are just a lot of steps and it kind of takes forever. 

I used this recipe and my only piece of advice about the recipe is this: 

Make your dough and filling the day before, cut out all your dough first, then fill and seal the dumplings, and boil all the dumplings at once. I made the dough and while it was in the fridge, I boiled the potatoes and made the filling. Then, as the water was boiling, I was frantically rolling dough, cutting dough, stuffing dough, and sealing dough. I had six pierogies in the pot at a time and I was constantly turning back and forth from making more in order to check the ones that were already cooking. It was very inefficient. If you're going to do this, do it in steps. Also, after they are boiled, make sure they are good and dry before pan frying them. It makes a difference. 

Although I had a harrowing first encounter with pierogie making, I am pleased to report that Carl-Os was impressed with my efforts. There's no better compliment than a happy dinner guest. 

Because Uranium J still believes in the right to privacy.

After the piergie ordeal, it was time to figure out what to do about frosting the cake. My friend the internet told me that it is possible to make frosting without an electric mixer. Well, of course it is. Otherwise, how would they have frosted cakes in olden times? I grabbed a sturdy wooden spoon and set to work. 

It took me about five minutes and a lot of elbow grease to cream together the butter and cream cheese. This wouldn't have been so bad if not for the fact that I had grated 3 cups of carrots by hand less than 8 hours before this. My wrists were crying mutiny, but I trudged on. I added a liberal amount of vanilla extract - creamed some more - and then began adding the powdered sugar. This is where the real endurance test came in. See, when you add dry to wet in this way, before it becomes something fluffy and good, it's sort of like a cement paste. I struggled to pull my spoon through the mess. Finally, 15 minutes later, I had something that looked like frosting. 

But it was too thin. So the process began all over again.

Half an hour and almost a whole bag of powdered sugar later, I had frosting. It was lumpy, and there was no way I was going to decorate with it, but it would cover the cake which is really all that mattered. 

The Final Product: Uranium J's SuperDense Carrot Cake

I was exhausted. I sent that Sprout to take a nap and I took a shower. Then, since j^C had gone to play rugby that day, I sat around in my bathrobe and talked to Mojo Jojo for an hour before deciding that maybe I had ought to clean the kitchen. 

Long story short: I got dressed and made the house presentable and it was j^C who Carl saw fly by the doorway window in the nude when he rang the doorbell. We ate, drank, watched bad sci-fi movies, and were merry. I did not complete everything I wanted in order to evoke the "Un-Birthday" milieu  but there will be time. Cards and gifts and Secret Squirrel Stuff is in the works. Tra laa! 

Tell Me Why? "I Don't Like Mondays"

I don't like Mondays because soon I will
transform into an old geezer. Source

Someone needs to tell Bob Geldof that he's not aging well. I saw him last week on some documentary and Christ and Moses. He looks like he's 700 years old. I mean, he's 60, but 60 could look a lot better. He just looks tired. There's problems when the guys from Pink Floyd look better than Mr. "Save Africa" himself. Just sayin'.

See what I mean? Source

What does this have to do with today's post? Not much, other than the title comes from Geldof's biggest hit with The Boomtown Rats "I Don't Like Mondays". The chick in the song hated Mondays so much that she shot up a schoolyard full of little kids. Me? I'll just sit around in a Monday fugue. Not a fog, I said that word on purpose. Presently, I am sitting here with a lot of things to write about, but the stories aren't finished yet, so there's no sense in beginning to tell you something that hasn't got an end. Deep Speaks! will only make for interesting reading tomorrow, once it's happened.

So

In the interest of giving you something interesting to read this Monday, I give you the highlights from some unfinished FPN drafts that have been sitting around for far too long. Most of these were shelved with good intentions. Surely I would return to these subjects and finish saying my piece. I'm realizing that this probably isn't going to happen. I want to clean out my drafts folder and move one. That doesn't mean that I can't share my unfinished masterpieces with you though, does it? In no particular order, here we go!

1. Billy Talent Once Told Me to "Try Honesty" - November 8, 2012
This one's kind of a downer. I was in a bad mood, although the whole honesty thing still rings true. I don't lie to you dear readers, but I'm also editing and censoring myself a lot of the time. There are careers, families, and innocent school children to think of, after all.

Hey girl. We're Billy Talent. Source

So, yeah. This happy go-lucky blogger stuff isn't really working for me. This blogger thing: Isn't. Really. Working. I keep trying all these blog challenges and I'm not committing and failing and it turns very quickly into a sneaky hate spiral.

I'm done.

I'm coming clean.

Why the heck am I blogging? I'm lonely. Really, really lonely. I want to be famous on the interwebs so that maybe I could find some like minded people to populate my pixelated world, or my real one for that matter. Not matter what I do though, it comes up short. So, I'm done. Honesty is the best policy they say. Maybe I'll get some readers, maybe I won't. But I won't be trying to be something I'm not anymore.

So, what's up with me?

I'm a 26 year old stay at home mom who is beyond depressed most of the time, but trying to keep from drowning in the monotony. I am clinging to any and every shred of hope I can find, wherever I might find it. I want nothing more than to be part of some flesh and blood tribe and I have suadades for high school, middle school, college, work - any place where I knew my place, knew who I was, and knew who my friends were. I want to build a family of my own design and I feel thwarted at every turn. I wish that my life were like an episode of Friends.

I'll tell you I'm an orphan after you've met my family.

We look sad cus nobody remembers us. Source

2. There are Thieves in the Temple Tonight - September 12, 2012

This one got cut off right in the middle, I am assuming because of That Sprout or j^C. They are the bane of my writing career. I am still kind of confused about "Shut Up! Little Man" though. I did not like the way many of the people responded to the relationship between the two men, and I think it's really not nice to laugh at people like that. Those men were very lonely humans and they deserved compassion, love, and dignity as much as you or I. Maybe more.

Netflix I've found, is often times the devil. I wind up watching things I would have never even heard of - usually documentaries - on a whim. I am then left pondering these complex issues that would otherwise never have crossed my mind. Such was the case over the weekend when I watched the documentary Shut Up! Little Man. Long story short: a myriad of GenXers wound up gaining money and prestige from illegally recording the heated arguments of two elderly men; Ray, a homophobe, and Peter, his gay roommate. 

Why am I the only one who feels that this just  smacks of exploitation? Source

The documentary first focused on how the recordings were captured while the second half related the stories of all the people who profited off of the recordings. The two men who originally made the tapes have now built an entire business around selling "Shut Up! Little Man" merchandise. There have been plays, comic books, movies, and various sundry other products that were based on the drunken arguments of two very lonely old men. A handful of enterprising young people have made a life for themselves from these ill gotten recordings while the stars, Ray and Peter, never saw a dime.

This whole thing makes me very angry.

From watching the documentary, it was easy for me to see that these were two men who had lived hard lives.

3. Goodbye, Daniel Tosh. Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye. - September 11. 2012
I really hate Daniel Tosh. I was mostly glad that he said this stupid shit so that maybe he would finally go away. I have no idea whether or not that happened, but I sure do hope that he's history. The reason this never got finished was because it went on and on. My final point was going to be how men are always the ones defending rape jokes because they don't feel like they are potential rape victims  but that there are several voices in the gaming community (Jim Sterling and an anonymous Escapist writer) who are speaking out about how dumb these clowns are. Or something. This was almost six months ago. 


f people finally realized what a complete and utter douche bag Daniel Tosh is, I would be so happy.

Oh wait. They did.

See? The internet doesn't lie. Source

For those of you who are not in the know, Daniel Tosh did a big no-no. During a recent gig at The Laugh Factory in Hollywood, this happened:

“So, on Friday night my friend and I were at her house and wanted to get out and do something for the evening. We brainstormed ideas and she brought up the idea of seeing a show at the Laugh Factory. I’d never been, I thought it sounded fun, so we went. We saw that Dane Cook, along some other names we didn’t recognize we’re playing, and while we both agree that Cook’s style is not really our taste we were opened-minded about what the others had to offer. And we figured even good ol’ Dane can be funny sometimes, even if it’s not really our thing. Anyhoo, his act was actually fine, but then when his was done, some other guy I didn’t recognize took the stage. Of course, I would find out later this was Daniel Tosh, but at the time I thought he was just some yahoo who somehow got a gig going on after Cook. I honestly thought he was an amateur because he didn’t seem that comfortable on stage and seemed to have a really awkward presence. 

So Tosh then starts making some very generalizing, declarative statements about rape jokes always being funny, how can a rape joke not be funny, rape is hilarious, etc. I don’t know why he was so repetitive about it but I felt provoked because I, for one, DON’T find them funny and never have. So I didnt appreciate Daniel Tosh (or anyone!) telling me I should find them funny. So I yelled out, “Actually, rape jokes are never funny!”

I did it because, even though being “disruptive” is against my nature, I felt that sitting there and saying nothing, or leaving quietly, would have been against my values as a person and as a woman. I don’t sit there while someone tells me how I should feel about something as profound and damaging as rape. 

After I called out to him, Tosh paused for a moment. Then, he says, “Wouldn’t it be funny if that girl got raped by like, 5 guys right now? Like right now? What if a bunch of guys just raped her…” and I, completely stunned and finding it hard to process what was happening but knowing i needed to get out of there, immediately nudged my friend, who was also completely stunned, and we high-tailed it out of there. It was humiliating, of course, especially as the audience guffawed in response to Tosh, their eyes following us as we made our way out of there. I didn’t hear the rest of what he said about me.

Now in the lobby, I spoke with the girl at the will-call desk, and demanded to see the manager. The manager on duty quickly came out to speak with me, and she was profusely apologetic, and seemed genuinely sorry about what had happened, but of course we received no refund for our tickets, but instead a comped pair of tickets, although she admitted she understood if we never wanted to come back. I can imagine the Laugh Factory doesn’t really have a policy in place for what happens when a woman has to leave in a hurry because the person onstage is hurling violent words about sexual violence at her. Although maybe I’m not the first girl to have that happen to her. 

I should probably add that having to basically flee while Tosh was enthusing about how hilarious it would be if I was gang-raped in that small, claustrophic room was pretty viscerally terrifying and threatening all the same, even if the actual scenario was unlikely to take place. The suggestion of it is violent enough and was meant to put me in my place.”'

Does anyone else feel just a little bit ill after reading that? I can't say that it surprises me though. I have always though Daniel Tosh was an unfunny black mark on the face of modern comedy. I don't know how he got famous and I have been know to re-evaluate my opinions of people's character and intelligence upon learning that they think the man is funny. He isn't. He never was. Now, with any luck, his career will be over and Comedy Central can air something worthwhile, like SNL and MadTV re-runs. Or, you know, pretty much anything else. 

But since this has almost more to do with "rape culture" than with Tosh himself, let's have a talk about that. 

I have recently decided that it would behoove me to be a feminist. How could it not? I'm a woman. It's called self interest. It makes me sad that until recently I called myself a misogynistic woman, and that I was a card carrying feminist hater. First of all, that's just not true. I liked having rights, therefore I had to like some of the things feminists stood for. My issue was really with the types of feminists you see caricatured in the media. Bra burners who don't want equality as much as they want superiority. "Not only are women equal to men, they are better." I can't get on board with that kind of thing, but I don't think anyone else can either. I think that stereotype was constructed by males in the media. Comedians and conservative politicians who are afraid that maybe their stereotype is correct. 

These are the same people who think that the whole "rape thing" isn't a big deal. It's a woman's problem, and as the party of the perpetrator, they are both in a position of power and immune to the reality.

So they think.

These men are so arrogant as to think that "it could never happen to me", and that's just not true. Men are raped every day, and no one knows what the real numbers are because of all the shame surrounding the subject. We've all heard it: 

• "She was asking for it"
• "She was coming on to me"
• "She was dressed like a slut, she knew what she was doing"
• "She shouldn't have been out at that time of night looking like that"

Blame, blame, blame, blame, blame. Bang, bang, bang. It's not my thing so let it go? Right. Let's consider some rape victims for a moment. Children - "She was coming on to me". The elderly - "She knew what she was doing". Men - "He was asking for it". How ridiculous do these accusations sound now? Does Daniel Tosh really think that he couldn't be raped? Let's all think about Marsellus Wallace for a moment. Everybody loves Pulp Fiction but I don't hear anyone talking about Ving Rhames iconic scene. The other big man rape scene in cinema is in Deliverence and the only thing you ever hear about that is jokes. Did you know that scene was filmed in one take upon Ned Beatty's insistence? Why  not? Who wants to be raped (even fictionally) over and over all afternoon. I read somewhere that Ned Beatty was psychologically traumatized from  the role he played in Deliverance. Of course he is. He's been the butt of every man rape joke since 1972. 

See this?
This is me not further traumatizing Ned Beatty. Source

Rape is not funny. That's not to say that well crafted and thoughtful rape jokes cannot be funny. George Carlin's rape routine is brilliant because it is absurd. I feel that the butt of the joke is not the victim, but the rapist, and that's OK. Maybe I'm wrong. At any rate, Tosh and people like him are definitely wrong. So are the people out there who are defending the use of the word "rape" in everyday conversation; i.e. "I just raped you in chess!". Why is this needed? Why can't we use one of the other hundreds words that would be as or more appropriate in that sentence? My band director used to say "We were crucified at competition". I like that. It gets the point across, and who do you know that was crucified? Jesus? Even still, in that case it was really a good thing if you go in for all that "saved mankind" stuff. There's no reason anyone should be offened if you said "I just crucified you in chess!". I like it. It's got a nice ring to it. And, there's very little chance of you coming upon a crucifixion victim anytime soon, lest you manage to build a time machine.

At least there are some voices of reason out there. It seems that video gamers are big on defending the use of the word "rape". Apparently, "I just raped your ass!" is a common thing to hear on XBox Live. I wouldn't know. 

Does anyone actually think I'm funny? Source

4. Trampire - September 8. 2012
This one was cut off midway through because I got distracted by life. Then, when I tried to resume, I just couldn't care. I am but a fledgling feminist, and this is KStew we're talking about. Forgive me, but my give a damn is busted.


I read an article about Kristin Stewart on Huffington Post this week. It made me very sad. To tell you the truth, I never know when things like the Twilight affair actually happen because I assume anything on the cover of a tabloid is a lie. (That's because they keep telling me Tom Cruise is gay, but I've yet to see any proof thereof. Eventually I'm going to go all Justin Crocker: "Leave Tommy alone! Leave him ALONE!".) Like the writer of the article, I care not about Kristen Stewart or her love life, but I do think it's interesting that she's being slaughtered in the media. Women screw up. Happens all the time. Why are we being so mean?

Shouldn't we have evolved past this by now? Source

Do you you think maybe it's because we have an unattainable ideal as a gender? As a woman, do we expect ourselves to be perfect lovers, mothers, daughters, and friends? Does Stewart's fall from grace threaten to reveal the truth about all of us? We are not flawless chryselephantine things to be revered. We are human and humans are entitled to make mistakes. Humans are also entitled to forgiveness. This matter is no concern of ours anyway. It's up to her very hurt boyfriend whether or not she will be forgiven.

Criticism: You're doin' it right. Source

Of course, it isn't right for women to cheat on their boyfriends either, but let's consider a few things: KStew is 22. She has been dating Pattinson secretly in public since she was 18. That's a long time for a person so young. Realistically, this could have been the romance of the ages and still wouldn't have worked out. Hollywood romances are hard for mature adults. Every "match made in heaven" story in Hollywood has eventually fallen apart (Why Katie? Why?). No matter how much two people love one another, the life is hard, there's jerks with cameras around every corner, you spend months on different continents, and you have to put up with a hundred thousand screaming teenagers lusting after your man (or, conversely, the thought of a hundred thousand zit faced teenagers spanking it to your woman). It is not a good scene. Most of us can't keep a relationship together as long as Stewart did, and we have a lot less problems.

5. J Got Ranned Over By A Blue Car - Backin' it Out tha Gay-rawj Yester-day! - February 27, 2012
This was a really funny story at the time, but now it just seems pointless to finish it, as it was almost a year ago. Long story, short? I am an idiot and almost ran myself over with j^C's car. Fear. On my face. The garage has a slight incline, which in reverse is a small hill. The car was in neutral and I had one foot on the clutch and one foot on the ground, easing it out manually. Suddenly, the car was going really fast and if I hadn't slammed on brakes, I might have lost my leg as the car exited the garage. It would have been a very bad scene. At the very least, I now know that this method of car extraction is not a good idea.


I almost ran myself over today. Let me tell you, that takes some talent.

It all started with a crippling need to do some laundry. See, some time ago, I stashed all my dirty clothes in the garage. Now that I kind of need to get the washed, they were in this huge unmanagable pile. I figured if I could sort them, the process would go much easier. In order to do that, the car needed to vacated the premises so that I could utilize the space it was currently occupying. (I have a lot of clothes.) Problem is, I can't drive a stick shift, so it wasn't as simple as backing it out.

Christine's frumpy younger sister. Source

First, I had to figure out how to start the car. Sounds easy, right? Wrong. I get behind the wheel, I insert the key, turn, and nothing happens. I pump the gas and turn - nothing happens. I pump the brake and turn - nothing happens. I pump the clutch and turn - nothing. Release the parking brake - still nothing. Finally, I googled "How to start manual car" on my phone. "Depress clutch to floor while turning key, then release when car is started." Ah. So, after like 10 minutes, we have ignition. Then, I put the car into neutral and began to back it ever so slowly out of the garage.

This is when things took a turn for the worse.

The End! 

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Friday Free For All: The Most Disappointing Truths About Life in "The Real World" or "Why I Want to Be a Perpetual Student"

The icon needs work. Can I at least get an "A" for effort though?

I began thinking about this topic after I left a brief meeting with my former Deep Co-Teacher. I have yet to saddle her with a cute blogosphere name, but never you mind. It will come to me in time. It's just hard because I know about a zillion people with the same name as her, and I've run out of clever nicknames for them. It will come though, it will come. It must.

Anyway, we were discussing the egregious disorganization of several professional organizations we have to deal with on a regular basis (I'm looking at you, Army) and how the prevalence of disorganization and incompetence doesn't make a whole lot of sense. All of us were told "Things'll be different in the real world. Accountability . . . blah, blah, blah." 'Scuse me? What accountability, where?

Uncle Lou wants to know too. Source

And I have to say, I'm kind of disappointed. I'm disappointed with "Real Life" in general - I really wish we could all go back to the days of the old school yard. If you're looking back on your school days and thinking I'm crazy, get real. School was easy compared to "Real Life". Here's why:

1. Consistency was never an issue
On Monday morning, you drug yourself out of bed and off to school. You showed up disheveled for first period and meandered through until lunch - which was at the same time every day - and then you meandered along until the final bell rang. You may or may not have had after school activities, but either way, you had an after school routine. You went to bed at relatively the same time every night (for me, this was around 2:00 or 3:00 AM). Then, you did it all over again until Friday afternoon, at which point, you thought you were going to cut loose over the weekend. Maybe you did, maybe you didn't. I'll bet whichever way you went, you did the same thing every weekend, and come Sunday night the cycle began again. Summers were just a variation on the routine. You slept until 10, you watched X, Y, and Z on TV, you went hung out with friends or messed around on LiveJournal til the wee hours of the morning and then slept until 10. All Summer. Then Fall came, and thus began the school cycle once again. You always knew when things were going to be happening, when you were going to eat, and how to go about budgeting your time. And the whole time your parents and teachers were telling you to enjoy your freedom because "Real Life" was nothing but rigid schedules and deadlines. Give me a break - when was the last time you made a deadline, hmmm? Furthermore, when was the last time you were given a deadline that didn't change? Or how about a consistent work schedule? Or a daily routine? What I wouldn't give for six classes a day and a bell to tell me what to do. As for accountability, it went like this: If a student didn't do their job, they failed. If a teacher didn't do their job, they were fired. As an adult, if you don't do your job, you're fired - unless you are the boss. In that case you can do whatever you want and your employees suffer. They aren't able to do their jobs well, you get mad, and you fire them. Lame. See why I like school better? I like clear rules and consistent follow through.

Well . . . I don't know if I would go that far. Source

2. Friends were easy to make and readily available
I know this one is going to be hard to swallow for you outcast types, and please don't think I am downplaying your social struggles. I know that school was a social nightmare for a lot of us, myself included. It's hard being a kid. But the nice thing about school was the fact that you at least had a fighting chance of finding and making what I call "organic friends". Organic friends are grown in lunchrooms, playgrounds, sports teams, academic clubs, and group projects the world over. You are stuck with hundreds of people for hours and hours five days a week. Conversations are had. Common ground is identified. Friendships are born. The best part? You have 180 days for these things to happen, so friendships are born and grow slowly and naturally without the pressure and false pretense of "networking". It just happens or it doesn't, and sometimes it doesn't. That suck - but you know what sucks more? Having social issues in the "Real World", where if your options for friendships are Work, Church, and The Internet. Suppose you don't have a job. What if you are an atheist? That leaves The Internet, which in my experience breeds what I call "Inorganic Friends". These are people you meet through places like Craigslist and Meetup just for the sake of making friends. While I have had some success with this sort of thing (RTR People!), for the most part I have found it to be shallow, forced, and generally awkward. You can live in a place for years before you have any luck with this sort of thing. I guarantee you, even the most awkward and outcast teenager among us had at least one friend in school. If you didn't you are either lying, a heinous asshole, or a psychotic episode looking for a place to happen. You know it's true.

Why aren't relationships a concern for the granola crunchers?
Seems more important than sprouts to me . . . Source

3. People were assholes
This one seems kind of outta place, huh? Not really. See, I remember crying to my mother or various guidance counselors over the years when the kids were mean to me. I was an outcast too. I liked Elton John. That alone was enough to get me tortured day in and day out.  Then there was the LGBT advocacy, the semi-goth attire, the huge vocabulary, and the fact that I was too broke and too fat to wear whatever was the latest fashion - I'm surprised I never got shoved into a locker or thrown into a garbage can. Thankfully, I had quick wit and awesome friends to my credit. Still, there were days when the asshollery got to be too much. I would go through black periods of chronic depression, and the adults would start telling me about the "Real World". "Oh, you'll be appreciated in the real world." "You're so smart, you'll do so well in the real world." "This is just school - kid's stuff - people are different in the real world." Um, no. People are assholes. School is just a condensed microcosm of the "Real World". People might grow up - some of them might even change - but most of them stay the same, and they're still doing the same shit at 40 that they did at 14. Don't believe me? Have you seen reality TV? Everyone kept telling me about the "Real World", I should have been watching MTV's version the whole time. Then I would have known the score. At least in school, you had your pals to lean on. Now, unless you are incredibly lucky, your friends are far flung and you can't just cut out of work and pal around the coffee shop when you've had too much. It sucks.

Preach little bunny. Speak the word. Source

4. You had 6-7 hours a day that were totally yours
This might not be true for everyone, but it's definitely true for me. I love school, and I love learning. After school, I had a whole lot of shit to deal with, but when I was at school I was all about me. I worked hard because I wanted to. I was responsible for me, myself, and I. I didn't have to worry about family, church, boyfriends, children (which I didn't have then, but do now), friends, or work. Sure, I might have thought about those things - I might have even dealt with some of those things at school. But more likely - if I wasn't doing classwork, I was reading a book or otherwise indulging in something I cared about. School was an escape. I was  good at it, so there was no pressure. It was my safe place. I used to fantasize about living in the school for crying out loud. (Seriously, have you been to MIS in Crescent City, Florida? (Cougar Pride! C!C! Bout it! Bout it!) I'm telling you, it could have been a mansion, and when I make it big IT WILL BE.) Anyway. Now we have jobs, bosses, kids, families, pets, demanding our time, energy, and attention. I thought school was stressful. Please. I didn't know what stress was. It's hard to be stressed when the word "overdue" has not yet entered your consciousness.

Ain't it purdy? Source

5. Teachers
If I loved school so much, if should come as no surprise that I love teachers. Sadly, you're surrounded by all these really great, really intelligent people for a few years, and then that's it. Game over. The only way you will ever be surrounded by that much intellectual power again is if you enter education and/or academia yourself. Otherwise, if you choose to maintain a relationship with a teacher or two, you're that weirdo students who never moved on. At least, that's what I'm afraid they'll think. There I was, up to my eyeballs in ersatz parental figures, then I graduated and that was the end of that. There is the consolation that it's not so strange to maintain a relationship with your college professors, but I was never as invested in any of my professors as I was with my high school teachers. Mrs. Burney? Mrs. Takken? Mr. Seymour? Mr. Belcher? Mr. Dixon? Mrs. Causy-Largacci? Mrs. Brady-Jones? Ms. Jones? My God, this could go on all night. The point is, they were saints. All of them, saints. There were twice as many that I didn't name, and they were saints too - but now I'm some kind of weirdy if I want us to be pals out here in the "Real World". That sucks.

Please, let me assimilate. Please! Source

There is a silver lining to all of this though. Soon enough, I'll have my teaching certificate and I can return to the womb-like comfort of school. I'll once again have the consistency I so crave and I'll be one of the initiated, so it won't be so weird if I start emailing my old favorite and most revered instructors. After all, a fledgling education needs her mentors, yes?  Things are looking up and I'm looking to get out of the "Real World" as fast as I can.

'Course, first this will happen . . . Source

Then this. Source