Consumables #139 Listening: Death, Sex, and Money

When I got to college, I was the most extroverted I have ever been before or since. I talked to everyone, and I mean everyone. I made friends with every person I met. I had no qualms about starting up conversations with people I didn’t know, and I felt absolutely no intimidation about chattering to anyone, anytime. I have no idea what THAT was all about, or where it went (actually I do know where it went, but that’s a story for another day), but I look upon that version of myself with a lot of fondness. Openhearted to a fault, that girl was, and it eventually got her into a world of heartache in some situations. Come to think of it, there is still a part of me to this day that struggles with the balance between openheartedness and the heartache that can bring (also a topic for another day). The quantity of my words and the aggressive friendliness that I had may be tempered a lot now that I am longer in the tooth, but the thing that I loved so much about who I was at that time was the unselfconscious need to connect with people. It was so naked, like, soul-wise. In talking to all of those people, I was merely wanting to really see them and for them to see me. It’s almost painfully uncynical, when I really think about it. What a little baby bird I was, flying around chirping to people, expecting them to chirp back.

This is the same year of my life that I decided, one night, to barge in to an acquaintance’s dorm room, where a girl that I thought was nice and funny and cool was sitting in her bed reading a book, and ask to sit down. She said yes, and I sat right on her bed with her and told her all the stuff I had been thinking about lately. It wasn’t dramatic stuff, but I just wasn’t hiding from her, which is what people do mostly, right? Chirp chirp! I was saying to her. This chitter chatter is actually my heart. This is me. Can you see me? This girl, who was quieter than me, listened to all of my thoughts, and to my surprise, stepped right up to that and told me all of hers. Here is a thing that has always been true for me: if you act unguarded and kind to me, I will fall in love with you straight away. This is a thing all of my loves have in common. I cannot resist it. If you are out there and you know I love you, friends, there are many reasons why, but unguarded and kind is the real, true reason at the heart of it all. I chirped, and you chirped back.

For the next few years of our lives, this girl (you all know her as Palindrome) and I talked. A lot. We talked and walked, we stayed up late talking, we could not shut up. Neither of us stayed at that college for long, and when we moved away from each other I remember talking on the phone for hours at a time. I remember us writing letters to each other, with stories and funny drawings. I still have them. I remember one time she came to visit me when I was at my parents’ house for the weekend and we talked in such a non-stop diaherria of the mouth sort of way from the beginning of the visit to the end, that after she left my mom just looked at me with a sort of awe and said “do you two EVER run out of things to say to each other?” And I had to be like: nope. Not really.

The thing about my friendship with Palindrome though, was not the quantity of words we said to each other. It was the quality. We were keeping it so real. Not that we were having heavy, deep talks all the time. But we were talking about shit that really mattered to us. It could be silly stuff, funny stuff, hard stuff. But it was unfiltered and we just trusted each other to hear it. Even now, years later, though Palindrome and I don’t talk as often, when we do talk, I still feel that bond between us. We listen to each other. It’s gold, you guys.

It is this quality of talking with people that I have been thinking about today. I still have that sort of thing in my life, thank goodness, because I am drawn to it like a heat seeking missile. If someone says something to me that feels lacking in artifice, trusting that I will listen to it, it’s like something within me lights up. Chirp, chirp. I see you. I cannot think of something that I love more than that.

I went on a short little trip on a ferry from Seattle into Puget Sound the other night with two of my pals. Between the car ride to where we were going and back plus the ferry ride itself, we had a few hours together with nothing to do but talk, and talk we did. It was a fun, airy sort of time, but I could have listened to those ladies talk all day long. Good conversation with sincere people. Best, best, best.

All of this is to tell you about a podcast called Death, Sex, and Money. It’s your basic NPR, Fresh Air style interview show, but the host has her guests talk about things that fall outside of polite conversation (hence the name of the podcast). People talk honestly about their relationships, their families, their joys, their fears. It’s like having a friendly acquaintance barge into your dorm room and tell you her business.

Chirp, chirp.


Many years ago, when I was a baby librarian fresh off the librarian vine, my first job was as a teen services librarian in the local branch just a few blocks from my house. I walked to work every day like I was in Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood or some shit; it was the greatest. One day there was a meeting of a few other librarians of the same ilk as me (you got ilk?) in a nearby coffee shop, and one of those librarians was one even newer than me. All I remember about this little librarian zygote that day was that I thought “that lady seems smart” and also “that lady has a way cute haircut.” It is a hazy memory. Over the years since, that librarian and I have floated in the same patch of air, sometimes working on stuff together, sometimes attending parties of mutual friends, sometimes having each other over for dinner. There was a short period a few years ago where she lived on the same street as me, and during that time we would go on walks after work. I went to her wedding, she became a mom, I changed jobs, I lost my dad. There was no event, no particular day that stands out in my mind as “ah, that’s when we really became true buds,” but week after week, month after month, I just loved her more and more. I really don’t know how it happened because usually my friendship stories are ones that have a falling-in-love moment. I knew I was in love with Biogirl when we had a date that ended up being ten hours long including two meals, a movie, and staying up past midnight talking. I fell in love with Alli watching her sing to herself on the bus the first day of kindergarten without ever having talked to her once. I fell in love with Map when she showed up to Mr. Menard’s history class wearing nothing but a long t-shirt and undies in defiance of our no-shorts-at-school policy. But this one? It happened early but I don’t know exactly when, and now she is a person I talk to just about every day, and when I don’t, I miss her. She sends me texts and/or emails that make me cry-laugh on the regular and she listens to my BS no matter what it is and treats it like it’s a mothershucking Ted Talk every time. And over the years we have either gotten more and more alike as our friendship has changed us, or we were twinsies this whole time and we were discovering it layer by layer. Either way, our brains are pretty much melded at this point. I can’t imagine what it would be like to not kick it with her. That girl is my homey right there. Like, for super serious.

Last week was her birthday, and we went out for a fancy dinner on Friday night to celebrate, and then went to trill out the jams via karaoke times on Saturday. It just got me thinking how thankful I am to call her my friendcess. Here’s a few reasons she is awesome.

As when I met her, her haircut is still the cutest.

She has impressive gif-sending game.

We agree on sort of everything, but yet she still teaches me new stuff, which is a weird trick.

She has the best WUT face of anyone I know. Like, if I say “YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS ONE” and then say something dumb and pass it off like it’s news as I am wont to do because I can be dramatic, she will bug out and say “WUTTTTTT” in a most satisfying manner. This is an important friendship skill.

She will argue with me about which one of us loves Emma Thompson more.

She always has mints and shares them. They are locally made mints. One time she was considering moving out of state and she told me that one of the cons on her pro/con list was that they wouldn’t have her mints in the new city.

She got in my face with aggressive kindness when my dad died. I’ll never forget it, never ever.

She’s just the goddamn best, that one. My homegirl. Love her.

Consumables #134 Reading The Bees

These are the things that have been pulling my attention away from the blog duties.

1. Making dumb dubsmash videos and tormenting my loved ones with them.

2. Making out with my new deck, with full tongue.

3. Working for living, living and a-working, taking what they’re giving cuz I’m working for a living, to quoth H. Lewis and his News.

Speaking of new deck times, the other day my friends came over with their youngun (don’t worry I stopped the make out stuff for that) and he pointed out a bee to me, and a few minutes later pointed to a bee again and proclaimed it another bee. When asked how he knew this second bee wasn’t just the same bee as the first bee, he looked at me and said “because they look different.” He didn’t follow this up with “dumbass” but he was thinking it, I could see it in his five-year-old eyes.

Speaking of bees, I read this book called The Bees, by Laline Paull, and a lot of it was about the meaning of sameness and what happens when one busts out (buzzts out) as different, which is the sort of existential question that my young friend was alluding to, methinks. It’s a fictional dystopian Handsmaid’s Talesian story about Flora, a worker bee who has abilities beyond her station and is given the opportunity to move through different castes in the hive. For those who like dystopian fiction, this one is a fresh take. For me, the story wasn’t as interesting as the setting– I spent the entire time thinking “do bees really do that? Are hives really set up like that?” so maybe I should be reading nonfiction about bees since I seem to have so many gee-dee questions about them. if you want fictionalized, militant, classist m-effer bees though, this one is it.

Consumables #132: Watching Lightning Round

I used to have a friend that would rarely call me back when I called her (shush now, grandma is talking about ye olde times before texting when we talked on the ringer to each other). On the off chance that I did get to talk to her, she would say that she didn’t want to call or email me because time had passed between the last time we had talked (as it tends to do) and she felt overwhelmed with the idea that she would have to catch me up on all of the many, many happenings in her life that had piled up in that time period and the thought would EXHAUST her enough that she would be like “eh, fuck it” and just not do it. There was a part of me that understood that impulse, but the bigger part of me couldn’t help but notice that in addition to this “too overwhelmed to dial the phone” story, this lady seemed to come up with all sorts of reasons to not interact with me. Like, she would come up with every dang excuse in the book (the Excuse Book, by Hunter X. Squeeze-Me). Reams of ideas on how she could not talk to me, like ever. So busy! Phone calling is so overwhelming! Coming to your house is so far! Hosting you at my house- eek, my house is too messy! Meeting up for coffee– oops I have a very important trip to the post office I forgot about. But you’re one of my besties though! Love you, mean it! Yeah, that girl did not like me. I am embarrassed to tell you how long it took for me to figure that out.

ANYWAY. I have been feeling a little bit of the blog back ups (gross) because there are so many things I could tell you about, so many pop cultures I have partooken in, that I don’t even know where to begin when I think about writing something. I promise you that this is because I want to tell you so many things, and not because I am like my ex-friend and I secretly don’t want to talk to you ever again. I would not do that to you. I promise you that if I break up with you I will do it right in your face. I won’t tell you it’s because I have to go to the post office over and over.

Ok, lightning round to catch up!

Obvious Child- Jenny Slate being Jenny-dorable.

Interstellar- the most waterworks astronauts in the galaxy, you guys. I mean, SO MUCH CRYING. Granted, if you launched me into space I would be boo-hooing too. There were many things to like about the movie, but when the only female astronaut tries to save the day and they make her do the old running-running-slip-fall-down-hurt-leg GO ON WITHOUT ME routine I was kind of over it. LADIES CAN’T RUN AND SAVE PEOPLE EVERYONE KNOWS THAT THEY WILL FALL DOWN AND START CRYING. Ugh, shut up Interstellar.

Skeleton Twins: As much as I love that Kristin Wiig and Bill Hader did a serious movie, and as much as I think they totally killed it (I did), the best part of the movie was when they were silly and lip syncing Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now.

Game of Thrones: Everyone just be walking around, looking for stuff. Walk walk walk. Look look look.

The Good Wife: You know who is having a good day on The Good Wife? NOBODY

Birdman: Going from being a movie star to an artiste is harrrrrrrd. Also, wives, girlfriends, daughters, critics, and colleagues are all major jerks.

Happy Friday everyone!

Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now, by Starship

Happy Presidentine’s Day

This weekend! It was perFECtion. Turns out that when you combine two holidays that seem somewhat rubbish, it adds up to all good things. Valentines for President’s Day, Presidents for Valentine’s Day. Mix ’em up and serve it up and I will EAT IT.

The week had kicked my booty to the max so on Friday night I turned down an offer from some lovely friends of mine who wanted to go out to get our dance pants on, in favor of some good old fashioned Chinese takeout, glazed staring, sofa sitting, and going to sleep by 8:30. I felt a little bad missing the dancing because there is little else that I love more than a booty shake, but that Friday night decompression, it felt like a million dollarinis. Plus the dancing wouldn’t have even gotten started until after 9pm and who are you kidding with that sort of start time on a Friday? Not this fool.

On Saturday we went to the movies where we walked by lines that were easily hundreds of people long who were all waiting to see Fifty Shades of No Thanks. We waltzed by all of them in order to see a modestly attended Imitation Game. I know, it was Valentine’s Day so perhaps we should have seen something romantical or racy…My coworker told me that her mom mispronounces the actor’s name as “Benedict Cummersnatch,” so we can mark that down as enough ribaldry for this crew.

Another thing that happened this weekend was the SUN CAME OUT. This resulted in our very first meal outside on our deck in 2015! WITH NO COATS ON EVEN. This year is going to be the Year of Deck Living at our house, y’all, and I cannot WAIT.

Then on Sunday we got to hang out with my dear friend from ye olde early blogging days, Rachel. I think she, along with our friend Maddie, may have been the very first blog friends I ever converted into IRL friends from this very blog way back in dinosaur times when I started writing on the interwebbery. She and her manfriend Bryan were in town from California and we traipsed around Seattle sunshine for the afternoon, hung out at our house a bit, went out to fancy dinnering, and wrapped up with some gelato (it probably wasn’t quite warm enough for late night gelato but I was sun drunk from the day). I love that lady- she’s just a goddamn delight. Thanks, blog!

Monday I wrapped up my weekend by cleaning my house, doing laundry, and watching hours upon hours of the latest season of Sister Wives. So you know, I slid out of there with a bang.


Cupid, Sam Cooke

Consumables #121 Reading: Starbird Murphy and the World Outside

My late teens/early twenties was a time when there was a lot of straight bullshit flying around. It was ridiculous. I mean, the DRAMA of it all. Even then, at the height of my own dramatic tendencies, I was like STAHHHHP, people. Everyone just calm yourselves, me included. I knew it wasn’t good, even as I fanned the flames of my own histrionics. It was like we were all compelled to be in a Melrose Place state of mind, which is a state of mind that Billy Joel could have written a more exciting song about, but is not a state of mind I would recommend. During this time, my pal Palindrome and I used to have long conversations about getting rich, buying an island, and starting a “Nice People Colony.” We would be the head cheeses of the Colony, and no one would be allowed to live there except people who were chill and kind, to us and in general. It would be drama free, if we could just control who we would be interacting with. Hmmm, if only in real life we could have controlled who we interacted with somehow, right? Like, perhaps with some sort of concept whereby one could set a kind of emotional boundary. But nah, I didn’t talk about setting emotional boundaries when I was 19. I went straight into talking about literal ocean boundaries with dictator-like immigration policies to solve my problems.

I know, that’s a bit unfair, because emotional boundaries help a lot in life, but if one is out in the world, engaged, living, interacting, then there are going to be bastards out there harshing your mellow no matter what. It’s just how it bes sometimes. So I suppose it’s a natural thing to fantasize about creating a little love bubble to live in with just your homies and you, where no one insults anyone’s mama or steals your lunch leftovers or what have you. It’s this sort of idea, among others, that makes me fascinated with communes and cults, especially the hippy dippy kind that seemed to proliferate in the 60s and 70s. You know the kind- the ones where people want to create their own Utopia via creating one large family and this takes the format of following a hairy dude with a god complex out into the woods somewhere.

This is the setting for the book I just read called Starbird Murphy and the World Outside, by Karen Finneyfrock. It’s fiction, but obviously well-researched when it comes to these types of communes and if you look hard may just be based on one that actually existed in Washington state. It tells the story of Starbird, a child raised her whole life in a place called the Free Family Farm. Starbird’s life has been a happy one, and she is a true believer in her community and its leader, whose name is EARTH. (Like, the name isn’t grandiose enough, he has to all-caps that shit too? Red flag, people). I really liked the details of this way of living throughout the story, and Finneyfrock is really evenhanded with her characters. There are a broad number of perspectives offered, and not a hint of condescension anywhere to be found, which was great. Plus, it’s a page turner. Starbird, in order to help her community, leaves it to work in the city, where she experiences mainstream culture for the very first time, which in turn starts to change some of her perspectives. Finding out which parts of her former life Starbird will stay loyal to and which ones she starts to question kept me reading fast.

2014 Finito

2014 is about to go into the garbage can, fellas! Ima do this year end quiz one more time. Uno, two, trois, go!
1. What did you do in 2014 that you’d never done before?
I had my first tarot reading ever, and it was full of surprising and auspicious predictions, which I thoroughly do not believe in yet I was stuffing it all right into my brain and heart and guts because even though I am not superstitious, I still don’t need to be suspicious about stuff that is auspicious. That was fun to say. Let’s throw some more in. Wishes, fishes, bootylicious.
2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I actually, for the first time maybe ever, made resolutions last year! 100 books read? CHECK. 100 movies watched? I think I saw maybe 40 movies this year. Two-fifths CHECK. Take a photo a day? Not every day, but I did take a butt-ton more photos this year. BUTT-TON CHECK. 100 dates with people I like? NO IDEA. How did I think I was going to track that without being psycho? Uncheck.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
No? Can that be true? I feel like there have been babies popping out everywhere every year for many years now. Was this the first baby-less year? I sort of can’t believe it. I must be having tot amnesia right now.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
No, but there was an extremely close call earlier this year that was effing awful and scared the living bloomers off of me.
5. What trips did you take?
All the usual suspects: Michigan, Chicago, New York, Bay Area, Portland. Plus I was dipped in the nutbarn that is Vegas, and I am never to be the same again.
6. What would you like to have in 2015 that you lacked in 2014?
Remember that whole Anger Potato thing I was talking about before? Yeah, I was mad about some stuff earlier this year. Like, stifling mad. I am glad to say that the anger potato has passed, finally, and I am hoping for less of that crap next year.
7. What date from 2014 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
Fixy’s birthday was super duper fun in 2014. We rode a ferris wheel! We had a warm day in January! We went to the opera and watched a lady kick the bucket while singing her face off!
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
This year was a rebuilding year, after the shit show of 2013. I took a lot of care of myself and healed a lot. It was slow going.
9. What was your biggest failure?
Eh, I don’t want to talk about it.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Not really, although I took two falls this year. One was at the beginning of the year when I somehow convinced myself, against my better judgment, that ice skating was a good idea, which anyone can tell you is wrong if you just think about the dumbness of strapping razor like blades to one’s shoes and then locomoting onto ice. I mean, what kind of bull-feces is that? Second time was just a few weeks ago, so apparently 2014 was brought in and out with my ass kissing the floor. What does this symbolize about the year? Hmmm.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
Our spontaneous decision to fly to California to see Baryshnikov perform was kind of the best. Aside from being amazing and fun, just the fact that we up and did it last minute when we really had no business doing anything of the sort was pretty sweet.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
I had lots of work-related hoo-hah that was celebratory-worthy.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
See: anger potato.
14. Where did most of your money go?
Building our deck! Our lovely, monstrous deck! Our Tyrannosaurus Decks! It was built too late in the year for us to really use, but 2015? YEAR OF DECK PARTAYS AND HOE-DOWNS.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Going to Chicago to see Alli and Map, my homies who know mes.
16. What song will always remind you of 2014?
Cool Kids, by Echosmith, for many reasons.
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i. happier or sadder? Way happier. WAY WAY happier. Like, happier times a kajillion.
ii. thinner or fatter? Well, my mom is in town and stuffing my face with baked goods, so probably fatter?
iii. richer or poorer? Richer, just a touch.
18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Hanging out with my peeps, especially Biogirl. She moved to the burbs and it was like we had to have passports to get to each other.
19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Mowing my yard.
20. How did you spend the holidays?
With my mom, bro, sister-in-law, nephew, and dude. It was hella fun. I am lucky to have a rad fam.
22. Did you fall in love in 2014?
Oh that dude of mine makes me so gushy.
23. How many one-night stands?
This question is so DUMMMMMMB
24. What was your favorite TV program?
The Good Wife and John Oliver. How can The Good Wife just keep getting better and better like that? How can John Oliver make me laugh at depressing news items? These are the mysteries of tv times.
25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
26. What was the best book you read?
Women in Clothes. I wanted to EAT THE PAGES I loved it so much.
27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
I don’t know- lots. I liked Sylvan Esso a bunch. Also that Lemonade song by Danity Kane was sort of my jam for a while. I am sinking in to the new D’Angelo. FKA Twigs. Just, lots.
28. What was your favorite film of this year?
The Lunchbox got me squarely in my innards.
29. What did you do on your birthday?
Not much on my actual birthday, but right around then, I took a trip to New York. I cannot even tell you how it made me feel. After the hellish festival of horrible that was 2013, I had been feeling better all year, bit by bit, but right around my birthday was the tipping point in my year where I needed a balls out fantastic time to remember myself fully. My beloved pal Maddie plus my beloved NYC made it happen. The. Best. Time. Sewed up my soul.
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
The other day I was at a meeting and we had to go around the table and, as an ice breaker, tell the group an interest we have outside of work. One person, clearly a for reals genius, said “sleep.” I was so taken with this person and this answer that I sort of stared at them for a minute. THIS IS A PERFECT ANSWER. I think she thought I was mean-mugging her, I was looking so thunderstruck. Anyway, to answer this question: more sleep.
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2014?
I love apparel. This year my fashion concept stayed much the same (I am choosy as a Jiffy-choosing mom when it comes to fashion) but I did expand my repertoire a bit. Like for instance, pants. I branched out into pants! This is a huge broadening of horizon for me. 2014! The year I joined The SIsterhood of the Wearing of Pants!
32. What kept you sane?
My guy. Or maybe he kept me insane. One of those.
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
I spent an inordinate amount of time contemplating the Kardashians. I have theories upon theories about them. I feel like a Kardashian savant. Literally no one in my life cares about this, much the way you must feel right now.
34. What political issue stirred you the most?
Events in Ferguson and all intersecting issues around it.
35. Who did you miss?
My dad.
36. Who was the best new person you met?
I met another blog friend- this time it was Aine from the UK, who swung through Seattle and contacted me to say hello. She was a frigging delight.
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2014:
Healing takes time and patience, and some things can never heal, but instead may just change. Sounds trite, but it’s true.
38. A song lyric that sums up your year.

Breakfast, by Kelis:

Sometimes it’s just so dark/And I can’t see past my hand
But you’re solid as a rock/You’re everything I love
And I done all that I can/You told me still stand
When it’s said and done/I am just what I am

So much of who we are/Is from who taught us how to love
So much of who we are/Is from who first taught us how to love

This is the real thing
The real thing about us
Welcome to the world

Happy New Year, everyone. Love to you in 2015.

T-givs, y’all

I have been trying to make “T-givs” happen, as a way to say Thanksgiving. I currently have zero supporters in this campaign.

Here are some things that happened over the weekend.

It snowed and then it froze. Our front yard looks like it is covered in cottage cheese because Seattle doesn’t understand snow, not in its soul.

Although I am a notorious Scrooge, this year we went out and got some lights to string up on our brand! new! deck! Mainly this is because my mom is coming to visit me and she is not a Scrooge. Also this is because we do not have lighting installed on our front stairs yet and I would like for my mother to not trip when she is here (apparently up until now I have been fine with the thought of other people tripping).

I got my hair cut and another stylist besides mine was (I guess?) bored or something because she jumped in to blow dry my hair on one side while my stylist did the other. It was sudden and sort of terrifying, although I can’t say why.

I went to a movie in a theater and when the preview for the new Star Wars came on, the lady next to me started crying from excitement. Like, loud crying. I say this as a fan of the pop cultures: WOW LADY. For the rest of the night I kept thinking about what sort of pop culture event would make me lose my shit. I am sure there is something. I guess I will know when it happens and I promise I will share it.

Fixy and I spent more time in our pajamas than in day-time clothings over four days.

I got texts and messages from two of my friends who had sad news. Two sets of news, actually. One set sad and scary, one set sad and devastating. I called immediately, and basically just wanted to keep calling all damn weekend. Really, what I wanted to do was go over there, but in this case, “there” is across the country so. Being there for friends is hard when you can’t actually be there. All weekend, I was feeling heavy-hearted and distracted.

To help with this, I did what makes me feel better: I squeezed my dude a lot a lot a lot. He did not seem to mind.

Here’s the grainiest ass cell phone photo of me, Fixy, and Delium on T-givs (I am gonna say it until you love it). I do not know why I am making the face that old timers make when shaving with a straight razor.

Thankful for this:


Easy Freezy Beautiful

The cold snap we have been experiencing continues apace (it’s been in the 20s at night here, which I KNOW my friends from other parts of the country will chuckle about but for Seattle in November it feels like Frigidaire in our underwear), and not only have my efforts to not be a whiny milquetoast been successful, I resisted the urge to huddle in a pajama ball at home all weekend, which makes me feel quite proud of myself. Good job, me!

Well, let me back up for just a second– I suppose, if we want to be technical, I did arrive home from work on Friday evening to my beloved, who was ready to take me out to dinner on the town, and I did, according to verified facts, refuse his going-out-enthusiasm due to pajama yearning. Sometimes the call of the jimmity jams cannot be denied.

However! I did get myself out and about for the rest of the weekend. My friend Kristen and I went to get our art on at a local museum, and the prevailing take away for me was a big fat royal “HUH?” during and afterward. The exhibit we saw was thoughtfully put together and ripe with meaning I am sure, but I just did not get it AT ALLLLL beyond a very surfacey understanding. The whole time I was just thinking: who the what now? I am going to glass-half-full this one and say that it is a valuable experience to be put in a position where we do not know what the eff is going on sometimes. This is not a rare feeling for me, though, if I’m gonna be truthful.

After confusing museum time, we went on a nice long walk and talk around the UW campus. It was sunny and cold and the autumn leaves were showing off. Look at me, embracing fall! Stepping on crunchy leaves, getting red cheeked, stopping off for a hot chocolate. Pretty damn fine.

In the evening, my sweetie and I went out to dinner at a place where we usually get take out and you should have seen the shock on the restaurant staff’s faces about it. You would like a TABLE? You will be staying and sitting? We continued to blow minds by ordering shit off the menu that was not our usual take out dinner items. No, we will NOT be ordering our usual! Up is down! Left is right!

Other highlights of the weekend included going to see a dance show (and this was some art that I could fully understand, thank goodness because I was kind of over feeling cornfused) and grocery-doing, laundry-finishing, home-improving, family-phone-calling and the like. And maybe a little pajama huddle squeezed in at the end. Cold weather has not defeated me yet and it shall not this year! IT SHALL NOT! *shakes icy fist at sky*


Consumables #107 Watching: Young and Beautiful

The most important news of the week is that my friends Allison and Chris had never heard the term “fucknut” before. I am so shocked by this event that it has plagued me all week. First of all, Allison and I have the same brain, having shared most of our lives together, so it is always shocking when one of us knows something the other does not. Second of all, like me, Allison is an artisanal pottymouth. A craftsman of filthy wordsmithery. That she would never have used the word fucknut is like being told that Bob Ross had never used Van Dyke Brown.

Other thing that is shocking: it has been down in the 20s temperature-wise this week and I have not complained about it. I would like credit or praise or some sort of medal or engraved cartouche for this.

Ok, enough of that malarkey, I have a bone to pick with a movie I watched this week. Listen up, movie! The movie I’m addressing is a French movie called Jeune and Jolie (Young and Beautiful). I watched it purely because I was up late looking for something to watch, it was on my recommended movies list in my On Demand account, it was nominated for an award at Cannes, and it was described in the On Demand menu as the story of a teen growing up. The description had words like “discovering” and “awakening” in it. Bildungsroman! One of my favorite types of stories. I fired it up and let it fly. You guys. The kid in this movie was not having any sort of awakening that I could tell. Rather, she was being drawn into a horrible life of prostitution with old French businessmen. She looks emotionally vacant the entire time, her character has no humanity, and the whole thing felt like it was made for dudes to ogle at. Just…really, On Demand recommendations? What made it think this was for me? Also, Cannes nomination? What the shit is up with that? I don’t object to sexy times movies, graphic stuff doesn’t bother me, and I certainly don’t object to subject matter that deals with sex work. But this was some punk ass anti-lady stuff right there. Made worse because it had that frigging indie French film tone, all whispered serious talking and existential symbolism. Shut up with trying to act like it’s brainy. This is a boob movie for dummy dudes and let’s not pretend it ain’t.

On Demand, I shall never listen to you again. Patooey.