Tuesday, November 30, 2010

I DID IT. Now what?

Well, NaBloPoMo, it's been real. I didn't really visit your site much at all, which means I am fully capable of writing 30 consecutive posts without any sorts of prompts or ideas. Also I feel like a jerk because I'm pretty selfish and didn't really bother to go find any new blogs to read. I JUST GOT THROUGH MY READER AGAIN, GUYS.

I might give YOU all a break though and slow it down in December. I don't know. I don't have a structured posting schedule because I don't want there to be rules about it because if there are rules then it loses its appeal. I mean, not counting this month, of course. But I think if I forced it for much longer, I'd get cranky and stomp away.

Also? This quantity-not-quality thing... not sure how I feel about it. (I mean, that implies that there's usually a standard of quality around here the rest of the time, which... well... yeah. *cough*)

Anyway. This is the last day and I'm ending it with a completely shitty cop-out post.

I hope I win a prize or something. That'd be rad.

Monday, November 29, 2010

The Hunt For Orange November

I know I have discussed this already, but I feel as though the continuation of this saga is best told via pictures.

10/30. After a week of searching and intense pleas of help to the local Twitterverse, procured 3 pints at local Wal-Mart. Refrained from performing public victory dance.

11/6. While visiting my sister, we went out to procure some goodness. 4 pints hidden behind a different flavor; we purchased them all. For the record - I only ate 1 of these.

11/8. Supply levels dangerously low in my freezer. Return to local Wal-Mart to see if they had gotten more (previous quest unsuccessful.) 2 pints on the shelf; location had been moved to bottom of freezer case. Found them anyway and secured them both.

11/11. Made a trip to Wal-Mart after discovering that I'd underestimated how long my previous garlic bulb had been in my fridge, and whiiiiiiile I was there, I miiiiight as well check it out... And when I approached the freezer door, it was like heavenly music was playing. IT WAS FULL. I still had a pint and a half in my freezer so I only bought one, but... GLORY. I then tweeted to alert my fellow citizens that there was, in fact, a supply, and I was selflessly not buying it all this time.

11/14. Was down to my last pint so I thought I'd drop in the W-Mart to see if they had any, of which, they did. I bought three.

And so ends our saga... you get the gist. I'm going to keep buying this shit until I can't get it anymore. And then I'll probably go buy a pint of Half Baked because sometimes you just need some chocolate, dammit.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Little Happy Endings

Two days before my mom's birthday, her kitty cat died.

Now, I realize that's a terribly emo way to start a post, and I apologize.

My mother currently lives by herself, since her three-time (not kidding) husband is, erm, away, at the present, and she's had this little cat for quite a few years now. I think it's kind of an understatement that she was pretty attached to it, and she was beside herself when she had to take the poor thing in to the vet at 4 am for sneezing blood. The cat was stable when the vets left that night, and was doing okay the next morning, and they had given her some steroid shots to try to shrink the weird growth that was behind her sinuses. Eventually it became too much and she just stopped breathing.

Her cat has always had health problems, but, obviously that doesn't make it suck less. My mother was devastated and was a complete wreck when I talked to her.

The timing was, of course, terribly fantastic.

After a few days, my sister nudged her towards the idea of a new cat by linkbombing her to kitties on Petfinder. I realize most people have some sort of mourning period before getting a new pet, but my mom started to warm up to the idea. She has a hard time being alone.

So we decided to go look at kitties at the shelter on that Saturday when I came up for her birthday.

I don't think it probably comes as much as a surprise that we did more than look.

You can't really go to a shelter and NOT come home with something.

As it was... we took two.

They say you should get cats in pairs, so they have someone to play with when you're gone, and I think it also came down to the fact that there were two cats we liked and how do you decide which one has to stay at the shelter, and which one gets to go home?

The cat we came to see was one that my sister found online, a little white cat that had crossed eye. But we were greeted by a little fluffy black one (with thumbs!) who pawed at the window at us immediately upon waking up.

They were both sweet little cats and didn't seem to have any issues with each other, plus there was some sort of "buy one, get the second one for $25" deal going on, and... well.

Two kitties got homes.

My mom was super thrilled, except that she'd promised said husband that she'd wait for him to get home so they could pick out the cats together, but she adored these cats and my sister and I kind of rolled our eyes and said we'd take the blame. Hell, they could be a "gift."

My brain clicked faster than my sister's did. "What if they actually were a gift?" As in - we could split the adoption costs between the two of us and they could be her Christmas present, and she wouldn't have to fudge the facts to him. My sister caught my drift first and was like, "brilliant!" and my mom was like "I'll still pay you back..." and we're like, *ahem* and she's like, Ohhhh...

So anyway, I've got that part of my Christmas shopping done, and my mom ended up with two little cats and all was well.

Except my sister's cats were pissed because we brought the new cats there to hang out and there was some staring down and some hissing and some cat-drama, but I think everything was okay.

Anyway that was a shitty retelling so here's a picture of my mom with her new babies.

See? So happy

And here's some more. Because I'm bored.

Cats are bitches and never cooperate for pictures.
Also, I don't know what my mother is doing. She looks like she's on something.

Also, let's for five seconds allow ourselves to all be as weirded out as I was by the degree to which I have the SAME FACE as my mother. We have the exact same cheekbones. The same fucking crease that runs along the left side of our face (aka the right side of the photo) - from the nose to the corner of our mouths (LOOK AT IT, IT IS IDENTICAL), and another one under the eye.

We also somehow have the same hair color, even though neither of us has seen our natural color for years, and I know we use different brands of hair dye.


And nothing to do with the cats, other than, um, I'm now the only person in my family that only has one cat? Of course, my sister and mom now each have a predominantly white cat with color splotches, and a solid black cat, whereas I have a cat that is all black and white and orange, so she's kind of like multi-cats in one. Plus if I got another cat, she'd probably destroy it. She won't stand for that kind of shit.

We're set in our ways, all up in our bachelorette pad, we are.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Do You Decide What You Feel?

Someone posted this to Twitter like eight million years ago and I shoved it in a draft because I wanted to come back to it (timestamp says... March 14.) It made me think but I wasn't in the mood to think so here it sat for... erm... a long time.

I'm finding, though, that I have absolutely no authority on the matter but I'm curious to see what y'all think. Do you agree? Why or why not?

Love is not an emotion, it is a decision.
- @erinscreen

Friday, November 26, 2010

It's Safer In Here Anyway.

I will not leave my cozy bed to go shopping on Black Friday. I will not leave my cozy bed to go shopping on Black Friday. I will not leave my cozy bed to go shopping on Black Friday.

Ohhhh but I really want a cheap little netbook.

Someone go get one for me? Much obliged.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

danke schoen, darling, danke schoen.

I don't think I've done a Thanksgiving post before. Probably because I never think to do one ahead of time, and the day thereof is filled with hanging out with my family and stuffing more food in my face than someone with weight issues probably ought to.

So I'm going to take a moment to be all incredibly sappy and tell you all of the things I am thankful for, at this current moment. List subject to change without notice.

- My friends.

To my real-life posse, you probably already know this, but if you don't, I adore you greatly, and I don't know what I would do without you. Those of you that have stuck around this area, I feel incredibly grateful that we have gotten to be so close and that I'll always have a shoulder to lean on or someone to crack open a bottle of wine with. After all these insanely unstable years, I finally feel like I have that close-knit group of friends that I've wanted. I think probably that they should make a sitcom about us.

To my e-posse, old and new, thanks for sticking around this corner of the Interwebs with me. Those of you that I have gotten to know a little bit more extensively, I love you to bits and someday when I'm not a broke-ass bitch, I want to meet you guys and hang out and have ridiculous amounts of probably-drunken fun. Y'all are the best friends that I've never actually gotten to meet and I don't know where to take this sentence that won't end in schmoopland.

- This blog.

This stupid little website has been my outlet for about 2 years and I love being able to come here to spew thoughts from my head or rant about whatever and/or post silly pictures of myself. Possibly superimposed onto other pictures. (No, not that kind. Pervs.)

- My job.

I know y'all think I work too much, but honestly, I love what I do, and nothing anyone says is going to pry me away from it. Unless the phrase "six figure salary" is mentioned.

- My coworkers.

Seriously, the people I work with are the best. They are part of the reason I love my job as much as I do. There is not a single person I work with that I can say bad things about. I'm coming to find that this is extremely rare, which makes me appreciate it all the more.

- My apartment.

It's small and there's something funky going on with the kitchen pipes, but dammit, if this place isn't cute and cozy and equipped with free internet and free heating and cooling. It's close to work, it's in a residential area so I finally feel like a grownup and not an overgrown college student has-been, and... I dunno. It's home.

- My family.

Crazy and dysfunctional that they may be, I love those weirdos.

- My health.

Other than injuries I seem to inflict upon myself, the ol' body seems to be in pretty good working condition, which I maybe don't appreciate as much as I should.

- Food.


- Technology.

Even though some days I feel like society is about to implode upon itself, and that people are inherently getting dumber and less self-sufficient, and my beloved English language is becoming mutilated beyond what is right and good... technology has been good to me. Mostly the Internet. I mean... shit. I can't even picture life right now without it. I mean, I can... I remember it. It just was kind of sucky. Mostly, though, circling back to Point #1.... technology, despite the widespread concern that it is chipping away at relationships and social skills, has really enabled me to get closer to people and to meet people I never would have otherwise.

It also allows me to go shopping in my pajamas. So there's that.

- Books.

You know. The paper kind. As long as there are actual, physical books out in the world, I will be content.

- My cat.

She's a little bitch and emotionally closed off except on her own terms, but that's why we get along. I have a squishy spot in my heart for that little furball. Especially when she greets me at the door or runs to me when I call her and nuzzles me with her little kitty face. I'm her person. And she lets me dress her up. So, bonus.

- Ben & Jerry.

They know why.

- Being fortunate enough to live where I do, when I do, with the rights I have, and the situation I'm in.

I could've had it much worse. I'm one of the lucky ones. I need to remind myself of that more often.

SOOOOooo there you have it. An incomplete list of things that I am grateful for and thankful for at this current point and time which OMG HAPPENS TO BE THANKSGIVING, IT'S ALMOST LIKE I PLANNED THAT OR SOMETHING.

Let's hear it, peeps. What are you thankful for this year?

Wednesday, November 24, 2010


I'm not sure exactly when it happened, but... I think I got bitten by the Christmas bug.

I mean, this is mere DAYS after I wrote an entire rant about how I was anti-Christmas and anti-everything and dammit it's only the beginning of November.

And then... AND THEN...

Fuck, I don't even know.

I think the world was chipping away at me. I mean, I sold my blog pride for 50 free holiday cards (whatever, bitches, I saved almost a hundred dollars, I would do it again. YOU HEAR THAT, CORPORATE AMERICA? GIVE ME FREE STUFF AND I WILL TALK ABOUT YOU HERE. But not all the time. That would get real old, real fast.) Then I had to CREATE said holiday cards (omg, guys, they are epic. I'll post here eventually.). Then I had to examine my budgetary situation and start planning on gifts for the fam so I could do it without breaking the bank.

Then I got my December issue of Real Simple in the mail and I think it all went downhill from there.

There was a hint of warm fuzzy when I tossed my read-cover-to-cover magazine off my bed and fell asleep. I found myself in the Christmas section at Target the next day and didn't vomit. I almost bought some mini-ornaments to hang at my desk at work.

I haven't voluntarily listened to any Christmas music yet, though.

It's ridiculous, is what it is. I think maybe on some level I'm just trying to brace myself for the inevitable and also to get all my ducks in a row (or partridges in a pear tree) so I'm not blindsided by HOLIDAY OMG. (Not that that really HAPPENS, obviously, nowadays... but if you ignore it with the intensity that I usually do, it generally does sneak up on you a little).

I'm just trying be be efficient. And prepared. And to get all my shit done early. So when I DO feel like, I don't know, decking the halls or whatever... I'm all set.

Stress-free. That is the goal.

Seriously, though. I don't know what happened. There was even a split second in time where I considered that maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the entire world if it snowed, just a little bit, a few flurries, for a few minutes.


Also, can we just talk for a minute about why everyone in the world is insanely in love with Zooey Deschanel?
I mean... she's okay. I think I missed a memo somewhere. I mean, she's pretty, yes, but... I don't know?

Whatever, it doesn't matter now, because my fat face is smothering her. I win, I think?

New rule: I'm not allowed to write about Christmas unless it is accompanied by a Photoshop-face picture, or something equally as entertaining.


ALSO, I got my Christmas cards on Monday, and I'm waiting for a few addresses and I need to buy stamps but otherwise I'm gonna have them bitches in the mail the day after Thanksgiving. WHAT. UP.

I'm also listening to Christmas music now.

It's sparkly and merry on the dark side...

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

SORRY FOR THE DOUBLE MAYBE TRIPLE POST ALL UP IN YO' READERS, I was having some formatting issues, FU Blogger. Just kidding I love you.

The Death of Originality, and also: WTF and WHYYYYY.

You know, I'm just getting a little bit sick and tired of my childhood and adolescent memories being fucked with.

Supposedly it has been rumored for a while, but it's actually FOR REAL now, whatever, but they are "rebooting" (I hate that term, we'll get to that later) Buffy the Vampire Slayer for a movie... without Joss Whedon.

Now, if you are or have ever been a fan of a series or something, you'll know that trying to remake something without the original creator generally sends the fan base into a giant hissy fit. Even worse, Joss Whedon is fucking brilliant, and I adore his sense of humor and writing, and I'm sorry, this is the worst idea ever.

I realize Buffy has been off the market for a while, but that's probably the way it should be. I'd stopped watching the show by the time it reached its conclusion, but it sounds like Joss ended the series the way he wanted to end it, the fans were satisfied, book = closed.

But, no. Hollywood greed has decided to "reboot" it with an entirely new writer, some chick named Whit Anderson who was a "huge Buffy fan" and proposed a script and the studios went "MONEY" and are moving ahead. (Isn't that every fan's dream, though? To have your fanfic greenlit for an actual movie? Bad precedent to set, methinks.)

I'm going to stop talking about Buffy here for a minute and continue at the end, in case you still care, but I don't want to lose you before I make the point that I wanted to make.

Because it's not even specifically about this particular franchise, though I definitely have some thoughts on it. It's the fact that this shit keeps happening.

Does anyone even have any original ideas anymore?

I would like to answer this with a NO, even though I know that people do have new ideas, but their ideas aren't seeing the light of day, because WHO THE FUCK IS IN CHARGE ANYMORE?

The problem is, of course, is that there is always someone out there willing to shell out cash for whatever lame-ass idea they think will sell.

This is my favorite quote, part of Joss Whedon's response to this whole... thing.

This is a sad, sad reflection on our times, when people must feed off the carcasses of beloved stories from their youths - just because they can't think of an original idea of their own, like I did with my Avengers idea that I made up myself.

Actually his whole response was kind of hilarious, clicky the linky to read.

They decided to "reboot" (yes, I keep putting this in quotations) Spider-Man too. From the beginning. Origin story and all. Now, I think there ought to be some sort of rule on how long you have to wait before you can remake a movie. WE JUST DID THIS. I mean, seriously. I'm not going to look up the date that these were made, but THEY ARE STILL RELATIVELY NEW.

What the holy fuck.

Come on, people.

Why do we need to "reboot" everything? And when and why did the word reboot replace a simple remake? Back in MY day (as I sit in my rocking chair), once a suitable amount of time had passed, namely, a few decades, a movie would be "remade" to introduce it to new audiences. For the most part, this involved taking old movies that might have otherwise been forgotten and reintroducing the concept. Some old movies still hold their own (so help me God if anyone tries to remake Casablanca or It's a Wonderful Life I will STAB THEM WHERE IT HURTS THE MOST), but some I'd never heard of until seeing a newer version. Frequently, once I found out there was an original, I'd watch that and actually like it better. Just for a random example, You've Got Mail was an updated remake of The Shop Around the Corner which is completely adorable, then again, I am kind of fond of Jimmy Stewart. Sleepless in Seattle threw back some parallel story lines and had outright mentions of An Affair to Remember, which is now one of my favorite movies of all time. The original Sabrina is fabulous - I haven't even bothered to see the newer one. (Then again, I adore Audrey Hepburn, so, you know. Why would I?) There are others, I just can't think of them. There are so, so many others.

The difference is that the newer ones seem to respect their source material, at least somewhat.

Rebooting basically means that they're going to fuck with the source material, and you bitches better like it.

At least when they use the word "reimagining" which is totally not even a real word, they're being straightforward. Still annoying, but honest.

Nowadays... I don't think anyone cares. And the problem is that they don't care because they only want to make a buck. Someone else had a great idea? Perfect, let's steal it and re-profit.

Granted, "new ideas" aren't always superb, but it's going to reiterate my point about MONEY.

Look at Twilight. I mean, don't look directly at it, but use your peripheral vision so as not to be blinded by the sparkle. As much fun as it is to make fun of, let's look at it seriously for half a second. It's not exactly novel or groundbreaking or even decently written. The die-hard fans ("twihards" as they are called, and no, I'm not kidding) are, for the most part, the type of people that I can't stand, the mob-mentality-prone masses, who are okay with something of a subpar quality just because it is shiny. They don't know any better.

And they ate that shit up.

I wish I would have had the foresight to write such drivel and have it published, I could have been as rich and successful as Stephenie Meyer and I'd be able to continue to crap out YA novels with no discernible talent because, well, that's "what the people want."

That's what some of the people want. Unfortunately, it's the people with disposable income.

I feel like I'm part of a dying breed. I have higher tastes, one might even call me a snob, and that's fine. With some exceptions, I mostly have to read novels by dead authors that were years before my time, just to get the kind of literary satisfaction that I desire. Popular culture makes me want to hide in a corner, most of the time.

It's this widespread dumbing down that make me sad for the future.

A future in which there will be less and less people like me (God that sounds so vain) and more of the Twilight-fan mentality. Because people like me are more focused on their careers and personal development and such things and have no desire to stop to procreate. Either that or we're generally terrified of the way that the world is headed and we can't, in good conscience, bring more people into the world that are going to have to suffer through it. These are both reasons I have for not wanting kids, among others.

There are a lot of great parents out there, and there are a lot of great kids out there.

But there are also a lot of trailer trash welfare queens who pop out a litter of kids because they have nothing to do but fuck all the time.

That's a whole other societal issue, but I believe it's the premise of a movie called Idiocracy where the ignorant masses have bred themselves into the majority and some average dude is considered the smartest man there is and so he runs for president or something? I don't know, I've never seen it, largely because this could happen and it scares me.

But, I digress.

The point is... people are sheep with pocketfuls of cash, and it's the money that The Man listens to.

Quantity, not quality. America's new motto.

Back to Buffy:

Vampires are big right now. I get that. (See: Twilight.) There were inevitable references made to Buffy and "real" vampires and I guess I never thought that we'd see a movie from it. (I wonder if people realize that their love affair with dark sexy vampires is kind of counterintuitive to a heroine whose job is to, you know, slay said vampires.)

I watched a lot more tv than I do now (which doesn't take much because I don't really watch much tv anymore, at all). I may have been guilty of watching a lot of the WB shows. Buffy, Charmed, Gilmore Girls, I don't remember what else. Never Dawson's Creek, though. Standards, man.

(I did once watch the original Buffy movie. Terrible.)

Buffy was interesting to me because it was much darker than anything I'd really watched before, but it was exciting, because here was this kick-ass female character, whose job was to KICK ASS, and it had witty dialogue that probably very much defined my sense of humor to this day.

I'm trying to get through Firefly, another Joss Whedon creation, but I never seem to have the time, but that same dry sense of humor is there too. The man was (is) brilliant.

It was one of those shows that was elevated to cult classic status, and though I was never really a die-hard fan, it upsets me to see this being tinkered with.

Some of the comments on the two articles I read this morning (hence this post!) pretty much sum it up. This is a terrible idea, the only way fans would be excited to see a movie is if it was the brainchild of Joss Whedon himself, and had the original cast. To many, Sarah Michelle Gellar IS Buffy, but you can't have her without the rest of the gang.

The studio execs claim there is an "active fanbase waiting for this movie" to which the masses went, "no. only under xyz conditions, would we be waiting for this movie, xyz = Joss Whedon."

And yet- someone raised a point. The non-Buffy fans will go see this, because: vampires! And the movie will probably do pretty well, commercially, hence justifying this move and paving the way for more of this and similar asshattery to continue. They can completely alienate the original fanbase and not blink an eye because THE MONEY IS THERE.


Anyway, these are the articles I mentioned or meant to mention if I didn't actually mention them, it's kind of refreshing to see comments that are full sentences and coherent thoughts, as well as people speaking up against the fucktarded moneymaking machine that is Hollywood, if you care to explore the subject further.

Joss Whedon's response to Buffy movie news (in full, not just the excerpt I posted above)

Another article declaring this probably a terrible, awful, no-good very bad idea

Who the hell is Whit Anderson?

Also, I will save my thoughts on this country's greed for another day, but I'd just like to throw out there the number of references to us being a modern-day Rome I've been seeing (or have heard in the past - this is not new). And we all know how Rome turned out.


Monday, November 22, 2010

Better Late Than Never. Well. In Theory.

They say that when you come to Iowa, you find yourself to be behind twenty years.* I guess when you read a blog from Iowa, you find yourself to be behind twenty days.

*This is largely a load of crap, and also, I guess technically it's sort of true in the literal sense since we just re-elected our governor from the '80s. LET'S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN.

Basically: I was going to let the whole Marie Claire thing go, because they didn't deserve any more publicity, but then I was like, no, fuck you, Marie Claire, you deserve all the negativity that the Internet can throw at you.

So, if you missed it, which I don't know how you could have, Marie Claire let some dumbshit bitch write a blog post about how fat people gross her out. And they shouldn't be allowed to kiss on tv. or do anything on tv. or in real life.

No, seriously.

I'm not going to link to it because quite frankly I don't want to give them any more traffic, which I KNOW was their whole aim in posting such a "controversial" piece.

More people have said it more eloquently than I will (links at the end), but, basically, it's a giant WHAT THE FUCK to a women's magazine who should be promoting things like, I don't know, positive body image, because if you can find me a woman who's not self conscious about her weight, I will give you a million dollars. Instead, they're basically promoting fat-hate

A lot of emphasis is being placed on the fact that the author was a former anorexic and they knowingly let her write this hate-piece about fat people and how was that a good idea?

Honestly, I don't give a shit if she used to be anorexic or not. To me, she's just another person speaking the very things that people that are overweight are afraid of. She's reinforcing that self-hate that we have, and making anyone who's not skinny feel like a disgusting, repulsive freak.

I struggle with my weight, I've posted about it before. I know I'm not "fat" or whatever, but I'm sure as hell not skinny, and I am very self conscious about myself... especially since most of my friends are infinitely skinnier and prettier than me.

Anyway, it's bullshit, and I want to dropkick this bitch who then offered some sort of half-assed "apology" and I hope Marie Claire goes out of business because they're fucking stupid and I'm sure it was a totally great marketing ploy to alienate a large chunk of your readers.

I mean, not that I know anyone that READS Marie Claire... I didn't even really know they were still around. But whatever.

Anyway, here are a bunch of posts that are better than mine, if you so feel inclined to participate or spectate in the Internet uprising against Marie Claire. Backlash is so much fun.

Cleolinda's post, which is the first I'd heard of it. (Come to think of it... I get a lot of my news from her... I'm not sure what that says about me. Hmm.) The Jezebel article wherein I got a lot of my other links. A really good post from a man's point of view. Lastly, Shine's blog post, because I love all her posts because she's a smartass bitch who tells it like it is and is usually brilliant. You should be reading her anyway if you're not.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Idiot Bitch: A Story in Two Segments. [Part 2]

All those years of getting my heart smashed and kicked around, and I never thought I'd say it, but... it's so much easier being the dumpee instead of the dumper. I've never had to break it off with anyone before, usually it takes care of itself for me.

I can handle the rejection and bitterness soooo much better than the guilt.

To be fair... I don't know if we've been "dating" long enough to really consider it a true breakup. I mean, length-of-time-wise, we started talking probably, what, two months ago? So there's that. But we've really only SEEN each other 4 times. So there's that, too.

It sucks because, as I've repeated ad nauseam, he's THE NICEST GUY EVER. There just wasn't the type of connection I was looking for. Maybe the timing's just off. Maybe the whole thing is just off. I don't know.

But, I did it. Well, I sort of did it. I kind of chickened out and went with taking the most unoffensive route I could find.

Anyway. Instead of being all "I don't think I like you even though I think you're awesome" I totally went with my OTHER (equally legitmate) reasoning of "I am way too fucking busy to date anyone right now and it's not fair to anybody" - though only an idiot would take that at entirely face value. I can't even remember what I said, but I think it was probably guilt-ridden and apologetic and very "it's not you, it's me"-esque (because it's always me) and I can't be what he or anyone would need right now, and it would take a hell of a push to knock me off my feet enough to change my current lifestyle. Between the lines: I AM TERRIFIED OF TRYING TO BE IN A RELATIONSHIP RIGHT NOW. SORRY YOU GOT SUCKED INTO THIS TOXIC MESS. ALSO, I AM AN ASSHOLE AND I ACCEPT THIS ABOUT MYSELF.

It was a lot of subtlety and I don't think I was as honest as I could have been, but I didn't feel it was necessary to blather on about my feelings or lack thereof or questioning thereof, all he needed to know that it wasn't going to work out. Maybe I'm a bad person for not relaying all the dirty details; they wouldn't have done anything but make him feel bad, I'm pretty sure, so what was the point there?

I think he got it, though.

He's a smart guy. I knew he would.

It was the right thing to do. Even though I was a douchebag and sent him a rambling email. (Hey, it has kind of a poetic symmetry, we met online, so, you know. That, and we don't talk on the phone, and I didn't want to go over there when he had ideas and stuff planned and then just crap all over it and be that kind of bitch.) Even though I felt horrible and guilty about the whole thing, I felt relieved. And then guilty some more. But relief is better than regret, so I think I'm on the right track.

But I didn't want to lead him on while I tried to sort things out, or let him think there was something there when there wasn't.

I felt guilty all over again when he was SO FREAKING NICE about it when he responded back, and completely understanding, and wished me well, and thanked me for being upfront, and told me to not be so hard on myself. (so, you know, at least he knows I felt horrible about it, and wasn't just being some flippant bitchmonster or something. But he was BEING NICE even though I was RUNNING AWAY) And he reassured me that I was not, in fact, an asshole.

Which made me feel like even more of an asshole.

It kind of got left open ended, like, maybe eventually we can hang out, as friends, without the pressure to "be" anything, we gave it a shot, it didn't work, etc. He was so fucking NICE about it and sweet and understanding and I AM A TERRIBLE TERRIBLE PERSON.

I guess, the flipside is, the door is not completely closed. Bridges were not set ablaze. We can, with any luck, be friends. Because (sing it if you know the words!) he is NICE, and I did enjoy hanging out with him and talking to him, I'm just don't think it was going where it needed to go. You can't force chemistry, and while there were little bitty flickers at the beginning, by Date 4, I felt like they were all out. I need to keep reminding myself of this. Because my guilt is (clearly) riding heavier than the resolve I felt and the lack of enthusiasm for continued hanging-out-ness.

It wasn't there. I can't force it to be there just because he's a nice guy. I could have tried, I guess, if I really wanted to, to pretend and keep going and see what happens, but then I would have ended up where I usually end up, in a disaster that falls apart in about three months anyway. I'm at least learning to recognize it sooner... and I did the best thing for both of us by bailing now, before anybody got attached.

And I have to wonder, if, on some level, he didn't notice that too? Maybe? I'm hoping. I'm hoping he did notice that, nothing was wrong but it wasn't right, either.

Then again, I am kind of adorable and charming, so he was probably doomed from the get-go.

Fuckity fuck fuck.

The problem with being a woman wearing the man-pants is that, even though you can man up and execute the same man role of being aloof and cold-hearted and casual and afraid to commit, and then start to doubt everything and then pull away and eventually pull the plug, is that you STILL have feeeeeeeeeeeeelings and so I'm pretty sure the guilt I have right now is magnified a hundred times than what any testosterone-carrying person in my shoes would feel.

This blows.

Ok, that's it, from now on, I am only getting involved with assholes who dump me and make me feel like shit. Because that is what I am good at, and that is what I know.

This whole "going around and hurting the feelings of nice guys" thing? DO NOT LIKE.

Fuck everything.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Idiot Bitch: A Story in Two Segments. [Part 1]

If you're new 'round these parts, I'm going to direct you to this post to get caught up. Even if you're not new, you probably noticed a distinct lack of updates on the Man Front.

Because I was having some sort of mental meltdown that was either an epiphany that I did not have feelings for the guy I was trying to date ~or~ some sort of crossbreed of commitmentphobia and self-doubt.

But when I found that he was trying to make plans with me and I was trying to force some enthusiasm about said plans, I think that was pretty clear. We were supposed to hang out last week (the week before? I don't know, I'm all off these days) and it was a killer week at work and so I pleaded exhaustion and ended up spending my Friday, in sweatpants, eating ice cream and pizza with Calee while watching "Back to the Future." Parts 1 and 2. (Part 3 sucks, I only sometimes watch it for a sense of closure for the trilogy). It was the 25th anniversary, you know.

As opposed to going out for dinner and then to some art thing with Bachelor #6.

Because who suggests stuff like that? Stupidly nice guys, that's who. It was almost too much.

And so I mulled this over, quite a bit, and decided that, no, this wasn't going to work. Because I'm not even sure I wanted it to, because I liked being alone.

I read something, somewhere, if I can find the link, about evaluating if you even want to be dating. (ah - here it is)

I think... I don't.

And I think that maybe that's okay?

I realize I will not be youngish and quasi-pretty forever. It's all downhill from here and I'm probably missing out on that whole young-and-in-love schtick that seems to be all the rage.

But... I don't know. I'm content with my solo-ness and I cringe at the thought of moving any further in this current track.

Whether that is because I don't want to be dating, period, or if it is because I don't want to be dating this guy, I honestly don't know.

Because if it was the right guy, I'd want to, right? I'd want to MAKE time. I'd be okay with venturing into the land of squishy feelings and nauseating cuteness...

When I was talking to Bachelor #2, and I hadn't talked to/heard from him in a week, it bothered me and I was, well, a girl about it. ("OMG what does this meaaaaaan"). With Bachelor #6, I'm sure spans of 6 or 7 days have gone by without interaction, and I probably didn't notice or bat an eye. So either that means I am totally wearing the man-pants in this... whatever it is (I don't even want to use the word "relationship")* - or I'm just not at all invested in it.

*seriously, the R-word makes me want to vomit right now.

And I would have been content to let it simmer and tried to sort this out (though it sounds pretty cut-and-dry from what I've written so far, but - like I've said before, on paper, he's perfect for me), but he's all "I really like spending time with you" and "let's get together" and I'm all "sure whatevs I'll pencil you in" and he's all, "I'll cook dinner and we can watch a movie" and I'm all "RETREAT! RETREAT!" Because, TOO MUCH.

I feel like a horrendous bitch.

Gah. I don't know. I have absolutely no good reason to run, other than... I don't feel IT, I don't feel anything, I don't feel butterflies, I don't feel excitement, just... I don't know. Platonic.

I'd have no issues hanging out with him if it weren't for that pressure of it supposing to "be" something. If we were just friends, this would all be FINE, in fact, we could probably be really, really good friends, if it weren't for the fact that it's all lopsided and he LIKES me, despite the flaky, despite, well, me.

The only non-asshole to come my way in... Well, years... And I'm all, "meh."

I seriously think I'm cursed.

Honestly, though, the idea of growing old with a handful of cats is starting to sound a little more appealing. SO MUCH LESS ANGST. Cats are easy. Men are difficult.

Other people, in general, are difficult.

Maybe this means I'll get to be an eccentric hermit writer person after all. destiny calls, bitches.

Friday, November 19, 2010

Four Zero Zero

Hey, guess what? This is my 400th post. I'm totally going to just phone it in, in honor of this momentous occasion, and not do a giveaway or anything (and by "anything" I mean "write a real post"), because I may or may not be slightly behind in sending out some of the stuff from previous giveaways (sorry guys!).

Also, I couldn't find a suitable movie with "400" in the title to play with. And by "find" I mean "think of offhand."

Whatever. Come see me in 100 posts, we'll do something fun. Promise.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Happy Birthday, Mom. I Hope You Never Find This Blog.

Today is my mother's birthday. She's turning the big 5-0 which is probably one of those scary ages (even scarier than 30, ahhhh) but she professes she always has an issue with ages that end in 0.

Which makes perfect sense, really. Except for 20, that one is boring. But after that, every time you hit a new decade, it's Existential Crisis Maximus... at least, I would imagine so. I haven't even gotten to 30 yet and I'm already obsessing over it.

My mother is really into birthdays. When my sister started dating her now-husband (wayyyy back when) and his birthday rolled around, my mother was absolutely flabbergasted at the revelation that his family didn't really do anything to celebrate birthdays. So we kind of enveloped him into our family tradition of birthaversary celebrations. (This usually consists of a steak dinner of some form + cake + homemade ice cream. And presents. Naturally.)

My mother will not stand for an uncelebrated birthday.

I've gotten to the point where the last couple years, I've been kind of "meh" about my day, but then I remember I'm kind of vain, and that I get to be the center of attention, so it's okay. And my mother always sends me an emotional text about how she remembers when I was born and she can't believe that I'm [insert age here] and so on, and so forth.

So if I ever get to be really obnoxious about "It's my birthday and I'll do what I want!" (which I don't usually do, but I reserve the right to do in the future) - blame my mother.

It's kind of tricky, though. Her birthday, this year.

It's a milestone. And my sister and I are at a loss as to how to properly mark the occasion.

When my dad turned 50 two years ago, my sister and I put our evil little brains together and plotted out a surprise birthday shindig for him, which turned out to be a success, but also left us with: shit, what do we do for Mom?

Because, unlike, my dad, my mother comes from a small family. She's an only child (my dad is one of seven), she's not close to anyone in her family, she's burned almost all bridges with anyone that may have once been considered a close friend, and... well, it puts us in a sticky spot, because if we don't do something awesome, we're going to be accused (if not outright, then with passive-aggressive guilt) that we're favoring our dad over her.

Which obviously isn't true, but it's hard to match party for party when you don't have the same ingredients for both.

Like I said. It's tricky.

I will confess to you, dearest readers, that I had to severely edit and re-write the majority this post.* Because it got into the kind of murky shit that is probably (a) best left off the Internet and (b) not really where I wanted to go with this post. Not that it needs to be all happy sunshine unicorn-vomit, because that's not how we roll, but... it's my MOM, you know? Despite everything, she's still my mom.

*and it's still terrible

Those of you who know me well, or in real life, know that I've got some issues with my mother. "Now Kelly," you're saying to me, because you obviously haven't heard The Story (best told with at least 3/4 of a bottle of wine in my system and plenty of air space for frantic flailing and gesturing). "Everyone has issues with their mother." Yes, this is true, but the series of events that have occurred over the last 8-9 years have really put a strain on the fam. The fact that my mother, sister, and I are all collectively speaking is nothing short of miraculous.

But, we're not going to really get into it, because that is one of the standing rules I've had on this blog, and it would take entirely too much time and emotional energy to recount the whole damn thing, and besides, what would I write my future nonexistent book about if I already told the whole tale of extreme domestic fuckwittery? Exactly.

Moving on.

It's been an interesting dynamic with my mother over the years. When I was a kid, she was extremely strict and mean (at least, that's what my youthful self perceived it as), but in retrospect, being kept on the straight and narrow actually turned me into a pretty decent human being. Between both my parents, I picked up a pretty damn good work ethic and a good sense of right and wrong, and while I was never popular or really all that socially confident, at least I stayed enough on the inside of the weird kids. Both my parents never pushed or pressured, it was my own damn self who pushed myself into all the extracurriculars and the straight A's and the perfectionism. They were proud of me and I'm sure they were quite pleased with how their kids turned out, but they would have been just the same had I gotten B's and come home after school every day and watched TV. (Probably.) They let me be who I wanted to be and encouraged me to go off to college and do what I wanted to do. Even though my dad thought I should have been an engineer. (Yawn.)

She worked nights as a nurse and had weird sleeping hours through much of my adolescence and by necessity missed a lot of my extracurriculars, but she was there when it counted, and in some roundabout way, probably turned me into the feminist that I am, wherein the mother/wife doesn't need to stay home with the kids and fall into line with traditional gender roles in order for everyone to turn out happy and functional. (Ironically, though, I think my mother longed to be June Cleaver... but the 80s and 90s just weren't the right time, I guess. Maybe she was born a few decades too late, I don't know. I never truly knew what she wanted or that she was unhappy, all those years.) After she went through her mid-life crisis (right around the big 4-0... complete with tanning, a blonde highlighted mullet, and a divorce) she got much more laid back and we got along really well. She bought me my first (underage) alcoholic beverage. (Whatever, I was 20. Not a hugely big deal.) (I was a good kid, shut up.) For a while we had quite the Lorelai-Rory dynamic going (complete with an Emily!) but we've sadly kind of trailed from that path. C'est la vie.

Let's steer this somewhere else again.

Anyway, I have her to thank for my fair skin and blue eyes and inability to be on time. (My sister inherited the small bladder. Ha.) It's creepy to look at her baby pictures and my baby pictures, because they are EXACTLY THE SAME, minus, you know, the advancements in camera technology between the sixties and the eighties. I, who looks like my mother, who looks like my grandmother, and will know more-or-less how I will look when I am older. Except I will look younger, when I am older, than she, because I don't tan. Or drink whiskey. My mother likes whiskey. I hate it. Therefore I am going to put it in a category of things that are probably really bad for you. (Vodka, tequila, rum, whatever, mix 'em in my cocktails... hate whiskey.)

She also taught me how to bargain hunt like a mofo.

(Unfortunately, one of her power-shopping secrets is to wear a fucking FANNY PACK, but... no. I'm sorry, Mom, but no. That is still all sorts of unacceptable.)

So help me, though, if I inherited the degree of crazy to which has manifested itself in the older ladies of this matriarchal line... someone slap me upside the head and send me back to a shrink. I know the cliche is "all women turn into their mother" but that is truly one of my fears in life. More than dying alone with cats.

Ok this is really spastic and not the type of "Dear Mom, I love you" post that other people sometimes do, because I am a NONCONFORMIST and also I had no thought or planning going into this. Besides, we joke around about a lot of this stuff anyway. If you can't find the humor in things, what's the fucking point?

God, this is the shittiest birthday post ever. If I ever get knocked up, I hope my kids are more thoughtful than I am, currently.

But, I am the product of my environment and apparently I have some underlying issues that even after re-writing this post so it couldn't be misconstrued as being overly mean... it's still... well not very nice. Context, people. I'm failing to translate the context properly.

Fuck, I need a drink.

ANYWAY so we've been through a lot, my mother and I, obviously, and I, being me, would like to showcase with some photos.

I deeply regret that I have no pictures from her mullet years (late 90s, we're talking. Turn of the century mullet. Long after mullets had had their heyday. Except in certain rural areas. Oh, hell. There will always be mullets. My POINT was, I was in HIGH SCHOOL and my mother had A MULLET.) This was a glorious mullet, guys. Sausage curl bangs, the shorter front pieces feathered back in a Farrah-esque way, and ringlets (RINGLETS!) in the back.

So, instead, I offer these.

My grandparents with my mother, circa 1960.

My mother and father on one of their dates.
Before they got all crazy and dysfunctional and, well, mullet-y.
(Nice suit, Dad.)

That's me! Just born'd.

Aren't I precious?
(Yes, this post is still somehow about me.)

Do you SEE? Do you SEE how alike everyone looks?
Well, ok, not me, there, because I'm a chunk in that photo.
Fortunately, the only time it's cute to have that many chins is when you are an infant.
This is not my most flattering baby picture.

Hee hee.

Household chores are so much fun when you're under the age of 3.

Hey, thanks for the sister and all, but what I really wanted was a My Little Pony.

This is the most recent picture I could find, I think it's from May.
Me, my sister, and my mom.

Happy birthday, Mom. Thanks for birthing me and passing on some pretty quality genes. I hope you kept all the crazy for yourself. ;)

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

this made more sense as I was writing it...

Time goes fast, man. I was pulling pictures out of my October 2010 folder the other day, and suddenly I was like, holy shit, I'm going to have to make a 2011 folder soon. And so on. The folders on my computer date back to only 2004, and with each passing year, it almost seems like it's just THAT much more information to juggle and store and save. Forget anything before that.

The visual representation of the last few years suddenly just struck me, because at least in pictures, I tuck them away, and file them, and they're sorted by date and suddenly it seems like there are a lot of months that are just a pile of pixels.

Each of those folders only represent a snapshot, a moment. They don't count all the hours and minutes and weeks and months that weren't "photo-worthy" - the ins and outs, the uneventful stuff, the bad hair days when the camera stayed put away, the nights when it was too fun to stay in the moment rather than try to preserve it. That's a lot of time, unaccounted for.

And I'm 26. Say that I started retaining and storing memories as early as three, that's twenty-three years of shit in my head. And I'm a pack rat.

My brain is full with too many memories. I need to sit down and process and streamline and economize so my memories and thoughts are organized, otherwise... old age is gonna be a bitch.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

I Can Quit Anytime I Want...

With apologies to my favorite barista and my favorite local coffee shop... I think that the little packets of single-serving coffee and flavored creamer are the way to go.

I mean, besides the fact that I pour in so much creamer that you can't actually TASTE the coffee, which is so not the point... it's fifty times cheaper and I think I like it better.

Naturally, my favorites are of the seasonal variety, with the Pumpkin Spice (OKAY, WHO SAW THAT ONE COMING? Ha) which is the perfect pumpkiny flavor, better than Starbucks and everyone else except B&J combined... and the Peppermint Mocha flavor, because once the pumpkin disappears from my life, it will be all peppermint straight ahead.

I'm really only discussing this because tonight I have had 2 mugfuls of coffee + peppermint creamer in place of any sort of actual dinner, because I need to buy groceries and I don't really feel like having pasta AGAIN.

Twenty bucks says I still fall asleep tonight without any problems.

Because I am a champion sleeper.

Your move, caffeine.

This post NOT sponsored by Coffee-mate.
Even though it is delicious and wonderful.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Untitled, On Purpose

A blinking cursor is sometimes more obnoxious than a blank piece of paper.

When you can't find your words with a pen, you can doodle in the margins or absently start shading in sections of the page. When you're at a computer, though, fingers poised above the keyboard, that blank slate and flashing line are merciless.

I can't find my words right now.

They're there, I'm cranking them out. It comes to me like breathing or eating - it's part of my day, I need it to survive.

But the words that escape these days... they're starting to mean less.

In addition to questioning everything about myself lately, I've finally turned the microscope to what used to be my untouchable safe haven. My outlet, my escape.

And just like everything else about myself, it doesn't stack up.

It's not clever or witty or interesting anymore. It's erratic and self-indulgent and superficial and boring. How did I possibly ever think that people care about this shit?

I've lost my muse, if I ever had one, and I'm struggling to figure out how to fix what was probably always broken. It's like singing in the car; even though you know you're a tone-deaf disaster, with no one else around you're willing to believe that, secretly, you're maybe pretty good. (Maybe that's a bad analogy for me - more often than not, I hear myself hit a note that makes me actually, physically cringe.)

The timing is terribly convenient, of course, since I'm somewhere in the middle of a month-long challenge to write/post every day. And I'm determined to finish what I started, but something's missing, and sometimes I'm cringing at the notes I'm not hitting.

Without writing, though, I am lost. And if I cut myself down and doubt myself and the writing itself becomes lost in that haze... then what? Do I implode, self-destruct? Wander aimlessly, trying to get my bearings again?

I'll keep stumbling through this, to get to that finish line, and maybe I'll collapse in a heap at the end, or maybe I'll have enough left in me to do a victory lap.

Either way, I feel I'm wasting words in a manner I'm no longer entitled to do, and my delusions of this as being anything more than an exercise in narcissism and pretentiousness are bring to focus the fact that I am so very lost, and I have no idea where I'm going, or what the hell I'm trying to do.

This is the strangest type of writer's block, in which words still come out, even if they say nothing, and if all I do is write in this space because my brain is too paralyzed with doubt to embark on any other projects... do I still get to call myself a writer? I don't think that's fair to people who really are writers.

This is how you end up going nowhere with the only thing you've ever wanted to do since you can remember.

I never wanted to be a doctor or an astronaut or a pop star (ok, not true - but circle back to the part where I'm completely and hideously tone-deaf)... I wanted to create. I've always wanted to create. Mostly with words, but visual arts had an appeal too.

How old do you have to be, how far away to you have to get from that childhood dream, to realize you've given up on it? To question why you thought you could or should do it... how very presumptuous, indeed.

Basically - I'm feeling like all this is for shit and I'm headed down a dead-end with all of it. Maybe I should take up a new hobby.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

P.P.S. Please just send me a vat of the stuff. Xoxo.

Sometimes I like to send comments to various companies whose products I like. One time a few years ago, I filled out a comment form on a website for a yogurt I liked, complaining that they didn't have enough flavors. I was rewarded by a pile of coupons in the mail, not just for cents off but for FREE STUFF too. I've since done this with a frozen yogurt that I was enamored with (they send me a $3 off coupon!) and I just did two more tonight.

I don't think people really take advantage of this enough. Which is fine by me. More coupons for meeeeee.

(I also complained to Maybelline about the shitty eyeliner I bought a couple weeks ago - it was crappy and runny and watered down and I was pissed because I blew $6 on it because I am a cheap-ass, but, I've been using that shit since HIGH SCHOOL and it's always served me quite well. Anyway they got back to me and are sending me compensation for it. Which is cool. I was hoping they'd replace it or something because I didn't want to go buy another one since I JUST BOUGHT IT.)

Customer service FTW.

Anyway this all comes full circle because I totally left this cracked-out comment on Ben & Jerry's website.

I hope they send me free ice cream.

Dearest Ben and Jerry,

I've long proclaimed you both to be my favorite men in the entire world... but now I feel like you are toying with me.

Not long ago, I was made aware of your limited batch of Pumpkin Cheesecake ice cream. I knew I had to had some for myself, so I searched high and low, and eventually was successful.

However, it has become like an obsession, and I find myself in the frozen foods section of Wal-Mart more than I'd care to admit.

It's really quite a brilliant marketing strategy; I've purchased five pints of ice cream in the last two weeks. This doesn't even count the four pints we acquired when I was visiting my sister and brother-in-law recently. I've made it my personal rule to buy out the entire supply whenever I stumble upon them; fortunately for my bank account, there never seems to be more than just a few.

Still... I know my poor, fragile heart will be broken whence the time comes for this flavor to disappear from my life. I know it would be unconventional to make pumpkin anything available year round, but I really would hope you would consider it.



PS - In lieu of the aforementioned Pumpkin Cheesecake, I will allow that Half Baked is the best ice cream on the market. The Target exclusive "Berry Voluntary" is good too. So is the "Magic Brownies" with the raspberry in there. Brilliant.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

The Most Unwonderful Time of the Year

I'm sorry, world, but I just can NOT get into Christmas right now, this year. I know it's November, and I suppose it is "acceptable" now, even if we aren't in the After-Thanksgiving zone yet... but... I don't know what's happening to me. I'm getting... grinchy.

I used to love Christmas. Love, love, love. Adore it to pieces. (I think, back then, it didn't start in SEPTEMBER like it does now...). I loved the sights and the sounds and the smells and the baking and the lights and the decorations and the music and the merriment and, if I was on a high-enough Christmas high, even the snow. Red and green and white and silver and maybe gold and somewhere blue and purple and teal showed up but no matter. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. A Christmas Story. National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. And, of course, It's a Wonderful Life. Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole and my only exception to hating country music, Martina McBride. (Her Christmas album? Glorious.) Stockings and COOKIES (oh, the cookies!) and the glitter and tinsel and the twinkle lights, and...

And Bah-fucking-humbug. I still love these things. I just... can't get excited about them.

I saw the decorations go up in stores shortly after Labor Day. I ignored it. I saw the last aisle in Target fill with red and green backer paper and outdoor lights, hidden behind all of the aisles of Halloween costumes and candy. I forgave them. Hell, I even bought a present for one of my family members already (although that was more a case of Not Doing All The Shopping At Once So As Not To Completely Overwhelm Your Bank Account than it was of Christmas Cheer.) I've made peace with these things starting. I realize I will start to hear Christmas music soon.

I'm not ready for it, and I'm not excited for it.

I feel a little bit like Charlie Brown (and/or my dad), bemoaning the overcommercialization of my cozy, happy holiday.

And, sure, that's a lot of it. It's hard when you're on a tight budget. The Christmas industry (Big Christmas?) has got us pinned against a wall and is shaking us to get every last piece of loose change. It's expensive, even if you don't go all out on gifts, because there are other things.

But that's not it.

I think what is really kind of depressing me about the holidays this year is that the whole season has kind of lost its magic for me.

Gone. Poof.

I don't think it's just Christmas, either. A lot of things that used to send waves of glee through my system are now very dull compared to what they used to be. I don't know if I'm just getting old or just getting jaded or just having an early onset of seasonal affective issues, or if it's possible to get that excitement and glow back.

I miss the magic.

And I will bitchslap the first person to force me to listen to more than one consecutive holiday song before I've had my annual overdose of turkey and pumpkin pie.

Hang on to your Christmases, kids

Friday, November 12, 2010

Pet Peeve of the Week

The thing I hate more than other things I should probably hate more: flat-billed hats. They just scream "douche."

Just say no.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Oust THIS, Bitches. *middle finger*

Ok. I kind of put this post off a little bit because I wanted to calm down a little bit first because I was SO PEEVED last Tuesday night that I thought it would be best to just wait. That, and I already had a bunch of posts started and ready to go first. (That's right, kids, I'm going to TRY to clean out my drafts folder during NaBloPoMo. We'll see how that goes). I reminded myself that I wasn't going to wake up the next morning to a post-apocalyptic wasteland, everything was going to be fine, we survived eight years of the Bush administration, we can get through this.

Also I think it is somewhat appropriate given that today is Veteran's Day and I want to talk about the type of freedom and equality that our vets fight for. (If you want a REAL Veteran's Day post, here's the one from last year)

Hokay. So.

I might be going out on a limb here by assuming that you are all familiar with the fact that government has THREE branches of government. The executive (ie, the president, the governor, etc), the legislative (Congress, state governments, etc), and the judicial (the Supreme Court, etc). The fact that we have three is meant to serve as a system of checks and balances so that no one arm of the government can abuse their power.

Still with me? Great. That's high school social studies shit right there.

NOW. We're going to talk about the judicial branch right now. (I'm sure many of you can see where this is going. Especially if you're from Iowa or nearby.)

The Supreme Court's SOLE JOB is to interpret the law and protect the Constitution and the rights of the American citizens.

Pretty elementary stuff, right?

Enter: the judicial retention brouhaha.

APPARENTLY all the fucktards in my formerly beloved state don't get it. There was a BIG push to vote to oust all of the Iowa Supreme Court judges that were up on the ballot this year. Most years, most people just check the little box to keep them in office, because, whatever. Nobody pays any attention. Unless they are grossly incompetent, or abusing their position, or extremely corrupt, they should be held. Because otherwise, they are going to start catering to special interest groups for fear that they are going to lose their jobs. Which kind of defeats the entire purpose.

Why the push?

Because of our little ol' gay marriage ruling from last year. Obviously.

One of the things that is MOST sickening about this whole thing (other than the apparent widespread ignorance from the majority of the state) is that this whole thing came up and was encouraged and funded by OUT OF STATE MONEY.

People not even FROM Iowa.


There was a lot of "they overstepped their bounds, they created a law, etc" - NO. That is not what happened. Firstly, judges can't make laws. Secondly, they were doing their JOB. They were interpreting a case based on the merits of the constitutionality of denying someone the right of marriage based on their gender. Not surprisingly, they found this to be discriminatory and unconstitutional. Well, no shit. Also: it was a UNANIMOUS ruling. Which means even the conservative judges agreed with it.

Now, here's where it gets even more ridiculous, in the scheme of things, and yet actually makes me feel a little better:


Well, I mean. Not immediately, or directly, not the type of change that I think the people were trying for. Unless their whole aim was to weaken our judicial system. In which case, perhaps they succeeded.

But here's why it's not going to change and why the voters are fucktards who shot us all in the collective foot:

1. The proposed constitutional convention was voted down on the same ballot. This was the ONLY way that law would have come into review and possibly overturned/dismantled. As it is, the law stands. The ruling stands. Which means this whole thing was an exercise in futility that did nothing but break down the integrity of the system. Way to go, fuckers.

2. The judge that wrote the ruling (and thus probably the target of most of the ire, I would imagine) wasn't up for re-election, re-affirmation, whatever the term is. He's still in office.

3. Somewhere along the way I guess I'll point out that our former governer, Terry Branstad (or, the "Branstache" - I'll find a pic for the end, you'll see) was elected back into the office after like 12 yearsish or so. He was the governor during the entire time I was growing up, which is to say, all of the '80s and much of the '90s, until he decided to step down. So basically, we're going backwards there. I don't really have a super strong opinion on this, because I grew to not be a fan of our current governor due to some retarded moves he made regarding some financial shit, blah blah, whatever, but at least he has equality and people's rights in mind. Brandstache... well, I don't know. We'll see.

My POINT is... ready for some irony?... Two of the three judges that were thrown out of office last week... were originally appointed/confirmed by Branstad the FIRST time he was in office. Ha.

(apparently the Branstache (like, the 'stache itself, not the governor-elect) has its own Twitter account... haha) (Look! Look! I'm doing research for a blog post! go me!) Oh lord, there's an entire DSM Register article about the 'stache... including some dude who dressed up as it for Halloween. Wow.

Ok, I'm off track now. Let's continue.

4. The judges that were removed can, technically, re-apply for the job. In theory, Gov. Culver could decide to reappoint them before he leaves office and so they could be right back in their seats again. This information comes from politically-minded acquaintances of mine who know more about the legal shit than I do. So, that would be... kind of hilariously awesome. Probably quite unlikely, but hypothetically possible.

Even if they aren't, the new judges will be selected by a non-partisan commission, who ideally will have their heads a safe distances from their asses, which then have to be confirmed by the governor (so with any luck, we'll do it before the '80s roll back into the capitol) and we can only pray that the new (and old) judges will do the right thing and continue to fight the good fight, despite the fact that the ignorant masses kind of hold their fate in their hands.

Better yet, we'll revamp the system. The US Supreme Court judges are appointed to life terms for the sole purpose of them not to be swayed by special interest groups and/or voters. They do their job and they make the tough decisions. Uninfluenced.

Maybe that's what we should go to. In fact, I truly believe we should.

Anyway, here's a good article from the Des Moines Register that probably none of you are going to click on and/or read unless you're especially interested in such things, but whatever.

Anyway. Iowa was just starting to get kind of cool and "with it" and now we pull something like this shit. I am at least glad that my county and the county next to me (aka, central Iowa, aka, Des Moines & its 'burbs, aka the cool people) voted to keep the judges. So I guess this part of the state is still cool. I am really disappointed in everyone else.

I guess I should mention that there was a big counter-campaign to retain the judges but I think it was too little, too late. It was a good fight but it wasn't enough. I know I at least convinced ONE person to do the right thing (ok, it was my mom, but whatever.)... I think we just need some magical way to educate the public.

Yeah. I know.

To end on a more entertaining note, I present to you:

Former and Future Governor Branstad and His Mustache, Then and Now

Politics aside, that is one glorious mustache.

Also: I would like to point out that I was merely a fetus when that first picture was taken. Just a fun fact for you.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

I Will Remember You... Whether I Like it Or Not (cue cheesy Sarah McLachlan ballad)

So I was killing time on facebook the other day, like ya do, and I wandered into the "friends you may know" section, probably because there was some hot dude that showed up and I was like, what? I may know you? (I didn't) and then I was facing a screen full of names from my high school and hometown.

Because, really, those are probably the only people left in the world that I "might" know, that I haven't befriended yet.

Because, yeah.

So I'm looking at these pictures, and I am genuinely startled at how... different... everyone looks. I mean, I saw a lot of these faces every day for YEARS. Yet it was the faces of 7+ years ago that are burned into my memory.

Some people look the same. Different hair, minor changes - but still easily recognizable. Some people look... grown up. Shockingly so. Some people... well, some people have just gotten fat. (I can't really exclude myself from this, I guess, but... yeah.) There was one girl that I did a double take on. I couldn't believe it was her. Then I had this whole weird second-perspective where I looked at these people with new eyes, trying to see them as if I didn't have preconceived notions of who they were supposed to be. I can't even really describe it. It's something I do sometimes, try to see things from a fresh perspective, what do other people see, blah blah.

Anyway then I got all existential and was like OMG WE'RE SO OOOOOOLD and then I ran away.

I also started wondering what people think when they see my face pop up after all these years. Hopefully good things like "man that Kelly chick is sure more hot/interesting/fun than she was in high school!" but I think it's probably best not to think about it.

It still amazes me how much high school leaves a lingering effect on you. All these years later. Blah. It was another life ago. I don't care anymore. And yet.. I do? You can't escape it, especially when your family is still there and you didn't quite distance yourself enough.

Whatever. Facebook is hurting my brain.