Don’t look at me. I’m hideous. That picture that I posted- don’t you dare take a peek. It is to serve as a disciplinary tool for when someone tells you “don’t look”, you actually won’t. It’s for practicing purposes. It’s to fortify you. Because I love you. I do. But I’m still embarassed about my state of affairs, facially speaking.
It began yesterday morning, Monday the 3rd. I awoke shortly after 6am to find that I had a major shiner. Ok, not like a baseball walloped me, but as far as a “spontaneous contusion” (my deceptivley professional sounding self-diagnosis) goes, it’s pretty savage.
I went to sleep Sunday nice, like an innocent lamb. I woke up with a fucking busted-ass black eye.
And now I am privy to the world through the eyes (genuinely, not a pun in sight, just clever phrasing) of an abuse victim. I am seeing somewhat of how it is to look, and be responded to, in a manner of a woman who has seen the ugly side of a fist. It. is. a. trip.
The last two days have involved people shifting uncomfortably around me. A stirred mix of sorrow, discomfort, and concern emanate from stranger’s gazes.
No eyeliner, tacky wallpaper. Don’t judge me.
As for my friends, I have been making up deliciously elaborate bullshit stories of what happened.
-There was an old woman, laying in the middle of the road, in the rain, naked, and it looked like she was crying and confused. She was holding a baby, naked, crying, you could tell the baby was hungry. In the arms of the baby was a puppy, furless, crying too somehow. So very vulnerable. I heroically approached and the puppy popped me one. This story was BELIEVED by two of my friends. I need new friends.
-I was at a bar and told some Billy Joel looking mother f%^&* to kick rocks because he was bugging me. He got a mouth on him and his girlfriend was on my jock and he didn’t like it and so he took me on the whiskey train to Fist City. Then it all went up in the air and became a straight up barroom brawl. My friend asked me if his girlfriend jumped in too. I let it run for a bit longer, because I was having too much fun to bring truth into the equation. I still can’t believe how gullible my people are. (Grumbles something about West coasters). I told him Billy Joel would NEVER do my like that. Please.
I guess that’s about it for my spontaneous tides of baloney.
I still haven’t gotten to the bottom of the bruise and it is somewhat unsettling, but the doctor said she thinks that it was mysterious trauma or possibly a spider attack. Bananas. It looks a lot worse in person, for the record. It totally merits it’s own blog posting as such. I’m serious.
I suppose if there is a moral, for the sake of a proper wrap up here, it would be that if you ever get busted up, make up a good reason and see how far it takes you. Aren’t we here to have a good time?
The amount of pain and suffering we go through in the name of beautification is impressive.
Yesterday marked the first Groupon I have ever purchased and it was an irresistible doozy. They were offering Laser hair removal for 75% off or more. Ah-ma-zing. Just about every woman who maintains their body hair has considered this option and most do not take the extra leap because holy-mother that sh*t is expensive! So I sucked it up and went for it. $200 dollars (normally over $1000!) and 6 appointments later I can expect to never have to worry about an ingrown hair on my bikini line again. This is very exciting. Awww yeah. TMI? I can’t help it. I have been getting waxed since high school and while my tolerance has gone up (compared to the horrid memory of my first experience where I walked out with only 1 smooth leg), I can only occasionally trick myself into thinking it “tickle-hurts”. Luckily, I have the best waxer ever and am always giving her positive feedback and love and telling her things like: “Thanks for making my ***** pretty”. It’s a special relationship. I will still see her, as the laser treatments are very specific and to do the whole leg and up up up would be close to $2000 (!) and would hurt like a roaring evil beast from hell… So I settled for a smaller area. Still great. Unburstable bubble. Got it?
Before whipping out the drastic plastic to pay it all off, I had a moment of reflection: How did it ever become common practice to rid ourselves so much of our natural state and how did it get so far and to the current trend of looking like we never went through puberty in the first place? And what would Freud say? He would be jumping up and down, having a field day- that’s for sure- with the worst case of “I told you so’s”. Pervyyyy.
Then I started to wonder if the opposite was ever popular. Like full on Jungle Woman. Or is that just on reserve for the fetishistic? Dunno. And then it hit me~ like a wig in the wind… the Merkin. Who’s heard of this? Let me introduce you to my furry friend. Err, I mean my friend’s friend. I heard of once- yeah. The pubic wig. Yes. The pubic wig. Originally worn by ladies of the night after shaving their business, but are now used as decorative items, erotic devices, or in films, by both men and women. I consulted the Wikipedia for history of it and here’s the deal: The Oxford Companion to the Body dates the origin of the pubic wig to the 1450s! Women would shave their pubic hair and wear a merkin to combat crabs, and prostitutes would wear them to cover up signs of disease, like syphillis. Damn! The Goat God Pan is making more sense now. It has also been suggested that when male actors played female parts onstage, they would cover their man parts with a merkin so they could expose themselves as women in nude scenes. Ahem.
So then, naturally, as you know me- my curiosity peaked. What’s the history of pubes anyway? Here’s what I got:
The earliest shaving devices discovered are flint blades possibly dating as far back as 30,000 BC. Not only does flint provide an extremely sharp edge for shaving, it also becomes dull rather quickly, making these the first disposable razors.
From 4,000 to 3,000 BC, women removed body hair with homegrown depilatory creams made from a bizarre combination of such questionable ingredients as arsenic and quicklime. Copper razors appeared around 3,000 BC in both India and Egypt. The most elaborate razors of prehistory appear around 1,500 to 1,200 BC in Scandinavia where Danish Mound Graves yielded razors in leather carrying cases with etched bronze blades and carved handles. No doubt the Vikings liked their women shaved.
The practice of pubic hair removal goes back to the dawn of civilization. To early Egyptians, a smooth and hairless body was the standard of beauty. The practice first gained total acceptance when it was practiced by the wife of Farao; afterwards, every upper class Egyptian woman made sure there was not a single hair on her body with the exception of her head. They used primitive depilatory creams and a form of waxing that utilized a sticky emulsion of oil and honey – the forerunner of what we now call “sugaring.”
The Greeks adopted the ideal of smoothness, capturing it over and again in their sculpture. Ancient Greek sculptures of women are universally clean-shaven, whereas the sculptures of men have pubic hair. The Greeks believed that a smooth, hairless body exemplified youth and beauty. In “Sexual Life in Ancient Greece” by Hans Licht, the author describes how the Greeks disapproved of women with pubic hair and considered it ugly. It was considered a sign of class distinction and subsequently all upper-class women practiced pubic hair removal, as did many women of the lesser classes.
The Romans also disapproved of pubic hair; young girls began removing it as soon as the first hair appeared. They used tweezers, which they called the “volsella” as well as a kind of depilatory cream called the “philotrum” or “dropax” which was sometimes made with bryonia and foreshadowed moderndepilatory creams. Waxing with resin or pitch was also used to depilate. Furthermore, the practice of pubic hair removal wasn’t unique to Rome – it was practiced in even the most remote parts of the empire. Julius Caesar (101-44 BC) writes that, “The Britons shave every part of their body except their head and upper lip.” It is reported that Poppaea, wife of the Roman Emperor Nero, used depilatory creams to remove unwanted body hair daily. At that time, the latest available creams included some wonderful ingredients like resin, pitch, white vine or ivy gum extract, ass’ fat, she-goat’s gall, bat’s blood, and powdered viper.
Islam also has a long history of pubic hair removal. According to the Sunnah, every adult Muslim, as a part of keeping his/her body clean, should remove the hair from his pubic area and armpits. The hair may be removed through any method that one feels comfortable with. The spread of Islam brought the practice to India, Northern Africa, and the other vast areas of the world under Muslim influence. In 1520, Bassano de Zra wrote “The Turks consider it sinful when a woman lets the hair on her private parts grow. As soon as a woman feels the hair is growing, she hurries to the public bath to have it removed or remove it herself.” The public baths all had special rooms where the ladies could get rid of their hair. Even today, the hamams (public baths) still have special rooms for the ladies to depilate.
The returning Crusaders (1096-1270) brought the practice back to Europe. In many European castles built between 1200 and 1600 AD, a special room was constructed where the ladies of the court could gather to shave. During the Renaissance, the practice of pubic hair removal flourished. Sixteenth and seventeenth century artists portrayed women as having little or no pubic hair. The work of Rubens, whose models typified the ideal in feminine beauty at the time, most dramatically reveals this.
The habit of depilating started to wane (publicly at least) during the reign of Catherine de Medici (1547-1589) who was then queen of France and something of a religious zealot. She forbade her ladies in waiting to remove their pubic hair any longer; however, it was still widely practiced until the reign of Queen Victoria (1837-1901) and the smothering prudishness of the “Victorian Era.” Even then, it remained popular in private, especially for the ruling classes. There is some photographic evidence ranging from the time of the Civil War to the “blue movies” of the 1920s and 30s that shows that the amount of pubic hair during that time varied from full to none. Even though repressed by the outward morality of the era, it appears pubic shaving never disappeared but instead more appropriately went underground.
The modern industrial age saw the rise of such razor manufacturers as Gillette, Schick, and Wilkinson. With the availability of cheap, quality razors, the practice of women removing their body hair became more publicly acceptable again. When women’s clothing styles began showing bare arms and legs in the 1920s, leg and underarm shaving followed immediately. In fact, armpit shaving was not common until May of 1915 when Harper’s Bazaar magazine featured a model in a sleeveless evening gown that showed her bare shoulders and hairless armpits. Shortly thereafter, Wilkinson Sword launched an advertising campaign to convince women that underarm hair was “unhygienic and unfeminine.” Sales of razors doubled in two years, perhaps the result of pent-up demand.
Pretty interesting stuff. Your choice at the end of the day. Soft and silky~ bushy and bold (you 70′s misfit rocker you). Shave it, pluck it, zap it, sugar it, hot wax yo’ self… Do how you do- but my best advice? Leave the merkins in the past and maintain. Hair today, gone tomorrow. Adieu.
When it comes to being sick I must admit it; I’m just no good.
I picture that some people are good at being sick. What that looks like in my mind is someone who doesn’t mind lazing around. Slinking. Slothing. They are happy and content to sloop and watch- oh, I don’t know- soaps? Nature channel? Documentaries? Glee? Oprah? Ya got me, I don’t know. That’s because I’m no good.
Luckily it doesn’t happen all that often, with the acception of course of that long year when I worked in a K-2 special ed class. Hellooo petri dish. That was the pits. This one kid in particular- the Germ House. He should have won a prize or something. Man. I caught the stomach bugs from him, ear stuff, sore anything possible… All the way up to the last two weeks of school before summer, I remember recovering from a throat infection and saying to my man at the time, “Uh! Well, at least that is over with. There’s only one week left. I got this. Nothing else can touch me now. I’m in the clear.” Two days after this declaration pink eye appeared in my right eye. I vividly recall the fear I felt, knowing that all that stood guard between eyes was the bridge of my nose. My nose is not dainty, but by God the bridge is certainly not sizable for defense. By the end of that week I had pink eye in both eyes. He got me good, that kid. Made me sicker than dirt. All the time. Like chemy, beige, depleted dirt where no invasive weeds even grow or something. That was 3 years ago. I haven’t got ill apart from that year from health-hell for a while.
And so now, at the return of the school year, guess who’s a sneeze n’ drip factory. This girl. It is an odd and uncomfortable thing to be sick on the 2nd and 3rd day of work. My ego is running laps and doing jumping jacks trying to be resilient and not be crushed. Who wants the boss to think they are a weeny? Or a crier? Yick.
I actually went in today and much like a plague victim would be treated, they took one look at me and told me to get outta there. So I did, semi excitedly because I’m not feeling up for it, but also crummy because I really want to be there. Plus, like I said, I’m not very good at just lamping around and doing a whole lotta nothing. At least not off the beach or off vacation or in the states for that matter.
So now I virtually have a snow day. It’s the same feeling, but just with the sick counter part. And so I have compiled a list of what I will do today that demands little to no energy.
1. Make CDs for friend’s going away party (tonight (ahem))
2. Go to Ross and get cheap sheets to cover back of car to protect from shedding dog
3. Car wash
4. Tea and tea and tea and pee x3+3
5. Sell books to Powells and get a new one to read… ON THE COUCH. That’s right- I’m capable
6. Nap? Ha.
7. Wash sheets because tomorrow is health-only-acceptable day and new sheets will be lovely and not germy
8. Get more tissues (possibly earlier on the list)
9. Drink more potions of lizard tales, bat wings, ant balls, grapefruit seed extract and what the hell
10. Write a surplus of stories so that I don’t have to have month lapses on this here blog
So now, a question: Is the purpose of rest supposed to include the head or do you think it’s ok to have a lot of mental activity going on during down time? This is day two of me supposed to be sitting on my keester. Wack. Who out there has this sick biz dialed? What do you do? Tips please.
The inception of any fantastical idea is a considerably fair cause for celebration, if not immediate action. In fact, I believe every first should be celebrated in one way or another. Minor victories. Like say you decide last minute to conduct some interviews on a test group, and have some particularly suiting and saucy curiosities to work with, and you are bold enough to make up who you work for in order to support your strange desires. Pill Box, is the moniker that was freshly devised; the moniker that represents a faux-blog. It will somehow serve the public, eliciting the info that only bullshit artists can possibly get! My good friend and I (pictured below in our official hats) set out to the public to conduct random, wayward interviews. This experience was the warmer. This is just the beginning. The aforementioned blog exists not, but will be moonlighting under this here (lovely! (ahem)) Pigeon Heart Ponderings business. Verrrry exciting.
It is amazing what the written word does. Writing “Press” on a piece of scrap paper and safety-pinning it to trucker hats can (and did!) grant surprising credibility.
Every summer we have the Soap Box Derby races here in Portland, Oregon. Everyone hangs out on this dormant volcano, drinking and enjoying the amazing, crazy, and often ridiculous creations that teams of people unite over to make and zip down hill on. The rest of us go for the beer, views, hilarity, shock, aw, and sunny days with friends and strangers. It’s a fantastic scene with some wild and creative folks. What better place to ask questions? I just don’t know.
So what up with the questions, girl? I heard that. Let me premise that I was feeling frisky when I thought up what I was going to be asking. I thought, in that moment, that there’s probably lots of freaky people that would do this type of event, so might as well ask them sexy stuff. I also figured there oughtta be some rebels up in there so might as well milk it. Right? Who’s been in handcuffs, party people?
The first noteworthy interview was with Brian Taylor of “Los Locos Bambaderos”
1. Is this your first derby? “Yes, my 1st!”
2. What’s the inspiration behind your soap box mobile? “The Deviants challenged us. They said they would smoke us. They never even showed up, so we already win by default.”
3. What else inspires you? “Good times.”
4. Who is the hottest contestant here? “The Lone Shark.”
5. If you had to pick a soap box to have sex in which would it be? “The bath tub.” This was the most common answer. Mind you, there were both a hot tub and a bath tub soap box car. The only shot I have of it is behind this crazy fish box car thang.
6. Where’s the craziest place you ever knocked boots? “On a picnic table. In the park. In the middle of the day.” Oww!
7. Have you ever been busted for anything? “Never.” ((Snicker))
8. Are you high right now? “I wish.”
9. Aren’t you afraid of the Mt. Tabor Mangler?! “No.” * This question cracked me up because it was absolutely fictitious; we just wanted to see the responses. I gotta say that pretty much everyone seemed unfazed and unconcerned.
10. If you had to pick a political figure to compete in this race against who would it be and why? Without skipping a beat he says: “Palin. Because she would lose and I would cream her ass!” Zing!
Next contestant interview: Erin of The Mile High Club. Check her out above with the press! This woman is actually in the Mile High Club. I had to shake her hand. That is pretty damn crafty. Unfortunately we didn’t get a flic of her ride, but check out what she had to say:
1. “This is my 5th year at the Soap Box Derby races. Every year I do a different car. I do it with my friends and it is a lot of fun because usually we a re really busy in the summer. This is our down time.”
2. “I’m inspired to take time out for creativity, and also the fact that this is a non profit event.”
3. Sexiest contestants? “The Beauticians.” Boy do I wish I had a better picture! They were getting perms for crying out loud!
4. “I would choose to have sex in the Thomas the Tank soap box car for the irony of it.” A photo is hardly necessary. This replica was pretty spot-on.
5. She was not high.
6. Totally unperturbed by the Mount Tabor Mangler.
7. Would chose to race “Benjamin Franklin because his box car would inevitably be a pretty sweet invention. He would also probably have a really cool costume.” Ha!
Many interviewees had similar responses when it came to inspiration: women and substances. Several contenders were racing for their 1st time, others their 2nd, and some their 5th. Most people have a record, likely involving “youthful indiscretion”. Not one person feared the Mount Tabor Mangler.
There were lots of other incredible mobile creations. This was just intended to share the derby with you and wet your whistles for the good things to come.
So if you fantasize about asking public opinion, but just lack the platform- we’ve gotcha covered. Speak out here to me and if it sounds fun it may very likely be included it in one of our days out, talking with townies… Let’s share the dream! -Making the most out of hitting the streets-
Many of our inexplicable urges are primal and connect us to our intrinsic past. A lot of how we operate comes from a deep, ancestrally patterned response system. We act out of habit and it is a habit set if not by ourselves, by our heredity. These actions are set in us for reasons of survival. Many of these things that we respond to have been watered down at this point, and no longer serve the same purposes as earlier times, yet we are left with trace urges that might wiggle and dance out from under thumb when asking why. What we see now as doing for simple fun and/ or pleasure just might be telling of where we came from. “What does she mean?” Let me explain with some supportive examples~
Numba 1: game hunting. Obviously we come from a lineage of hunter gatherers. Men went out to pasture, forest, and plain to bring home the bacon. Hunting was a necessity and provided our sustenance. These days we can bargain hunt for our meats and other fleshy things in the long isles of the grocery store. Most bros I know never even shot an animal… Well, maybe rats with bb guns, but that’s straying from the point. The need to have ill aim, be able to stalk prey (animals, fellas, come on), skin beasts, etc. has silently slipped by as a skill. Right? Right. However, men still have this urge to kill kill kill with out the real need in modern society to do so (purely for sport) and take it out on little Bambis’ of the world, often discarding the meat and saving… the head? Hmm. Something got lost in translation, no? You see- and people still have that innate urge for hunting, despite it’s existence of being a necessity (over all) long gone.
Specimen 2: Buffets. Yes- let’s examine this one fattys’! I kid. This is actually viewable as a relative to the first example, just in different clothing. But again, this is a post on breaking down what we are subconsciously drawn to do in the name of survival. I have noticed time and time again how people will eat faster when there is excess food in front of them. Instead of taking time with what is currently on the plate, they rush through their 1st plate so that they don’t miss out because others ate faster/ more and there are no seconds, though had they taken their time on the first plate they may realize that they were not hungry anymore. That question is disregarded and/ or ignored. So what’s my theory on how this relates to old patterns of survival? This is totally connected to scarcity mentality. During the hunter gatherer day, dependent on the season, it was often feast or famine for peeps. When food was abundant, it was wise to eat what was available, as there were no fridges or storage. People ate what they had while they had it. It was not sensible to abstain from eating because there was no guarantee that abundance would be part of tomorrow. In today’s culture (generally speaking (apart from famine stricken lands)) food is plentiful. The urge to eat and eat till we’re immobile stems from what I am saying. You feeling me?
3rd: Let’s address… Playerrrrs. Alright, I think this is connected to the urge to procreate. I’m not saying that most promiscuous people want to make bunches of babies per-say, but I am saying that the urge to screw as many people as possible stems from the assurance of the tribe continuing. If your sleeping with just one person, there are only so many children they can provide. Knockin boots with several people at once ensures a small gaggle of minis’. People wanted to do it (obvs because it feels fabulous and) to keep the blood line strong and to have extra hands to help raise the roof or whatever they needed. It’s like hunting for sport, people. The chief of tribes would have several wives. They were big biz. Importante. Their ancestry must be continued. Players might just be thinking that they are super important and need to spread seed so that their babies would be popping out a plenty. Think big ego and king of domain mentality.
Possible supporting theories: Making our hair big… Guilty! Or at least I certainly was. Yeah, I sported a wave. And it was taller than yours. And your sisters’. Yup. Lotsa people want to have thick, big ol’ hair. Proof? Weaves, wigs, extensions, hair thickening treatments, teasing, blow outs, hair spray… Maybe this is connected to wanting to appear larger to seem intimidating to predators. ?? I mean, genrally speaking, some crazy chick looks more intimidating to me when she’s got big hair then someone who has short, straight hair. Kinda. I don’t know- it’s a stretch. But just think about it.
But then there are questions… Residual things that don’t make sense.
For example, what is with the urge to talk to people that don’t speak the same language as yourself in an increasingly loud voice? Like if you get to the point where your are shouting you might break the barrier of misunderstanding and they will be suddenly capable of telling you exactly where the bathroom is.
And here’s another. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around this one, and maybe you can help me… What is the deal with the whole appeal of the chase and challenge? The being wanted so bad when you are unavailable or disinterested. The wanting of someone when they do not show clear signs of reciprocity. It is so powerful on both ends. I have seen it now in full circle and got temporarily swept by the force of it. It’s so powerful and something that we all fall victim to, so I am thinking that there has to be a bigger reason for this phenomena. What is the biological basis for the intrigue of the chase and challenge? Is there some larger picture that it fits into to protect us from something? Because I cannot see it, if so. What’s your philosophy? Why do we so often want what we can’t have?
And one left over for the dogs: Spinning around and around in circles before laying down. Even when they are trying to lay on hard wood or carpet… This goes back to when they would have to lay down in tall grasses, they would flatten them down and make a tiny nest-like place to slumber.
Ah, there are so many more for us though, but there’s my jumping point. Do you have any glaring ones?
This is theofficial launching of publicity and requests for my new collection. Get ready for it… I am requesting- ANONYMOUSLY- your MosT embarrassing stories. I want the juiciest of details. I want the funny, the savage, the outrageous, the tormented, the moments inducing the barrage of curse words. GIVE. IT. TO. ME.
Write it out in the comment area if you want- though obviously that would not be anonymous. ORrrr- send them to me here:
Lisita Lawless
3333 NE Morris St.
Portland, OR. 97212
I will collect and post them. Oh boy!!!
Don’t put your name. Just put your truth.
The idea for this came to me when I was watching a TED Talk about a man who went out onto the streets of NYC, handed out 1,000 self-addressed (to his abode) postcards with the simple question on the back: “What is your biggest secret?” Needless to say it caught like wild fire and a website exists now that you simply must check out at www.postsecret.com
His wife and himself receive unruly amounts of people’s dirty laundry from silly, to scandalous, to simply heartbreaking. I gift you with the TED talk that I watched that inspired my brilliant, comparable idea you see today. I am excited!
So, in order to get the juices flowing- I suppose it’s only fair that I give you a good admission. Fine. Fair enough. (Deep breath) … Well, the truth of the matter is that a lady like myself runs into things a good bit on the often tip- that are pretty ridic. I have a bit of a penchant for it. That being said, the first things that come to mind have to do with peeing. Either a devil lives inside my bladder and takes up all the room, I have a premie one, or I only have a year and some months left on my bladder before it gives out completely… so yeah, you’re about to get a good pee story. And the answer is yes, for the record; I do fear incontinence.
Setting: The mountains of Mexico, on a a janky, rickety, music-blaring bus with those little hanging fabric balls (bolitas pequeñas??) for proper decor. And dashboard-Jesus too. It was mostly campesinos on this piece. And there’s me. Chilling. Actually, that is a huge lie. I was not chilling. I had to take a wiz like nobody’s business. No one else seemed phased by the fact that we would only stop for long enough to pick people up, and if you dare disboard and were not on the bus by the time the (crazy f*%^ing drive-like-a-death-wish) driver was ready to bounce, sucked for you. So I was under silent torture. Everyone around me was settled in on those crazy roads- perhaps the best way to deal was to catch some rest, but nope, I wasn’t that lucky. I had to go. And to make matters worse, I was surrounded by strangers. A friend that was traveling with me was one row across and one seat up, so they could do me no solids (not a foreshadowing pun). Finally I asked her if she had a plastic bag. She knew right away why. Bitch! She liked it too much. No bag though. I fumbled through my belongings until I found a beautiful, gorgeous, thin, blessed plastic bag. I blew it up to check for wholes because I am very smart like that. Safe. Now again, I will remind you- everyone around me was sleeping. Accept my pal, of course, and that was fine. I squat down off my seat and pulled my pants down and ahhhhhh. Relief. Pants up, bag hanging, BUT suddenly- a river. The bag had deceived me and had a terrible whole. A very bad whole! And the river- there she was, twisting rivulets down the isle and around, and into people’s belongings, and all over the floor. And here is the craziest part- people began waking up. This will never make sense to me. Liquid is silent. Things spill on the bus. Those 2 facts put together do not sensibly equate to waking up the sleeping. How? Was this something they were hyper aware of due to others going through the same thing? Well people started to get very excited and upset. Before the people next to me woke up I managed to chuck my rapidly deflating bag-of-pee out of the window (which is part of the (fairly generous) list of the reasons for why I am going to hell) and look relatively innocent. My friend on the other hand, had completely lost her shit. She was out of her body laughing. She could not get it together. There was nothing to be done.
All in all, I was never burned at the stake, or got found out about for that matter, but still the experience with terrible and embarrassing, and I am sure that there was at least one other person that saw the entire ordeal unravel. Yup, pretty embarrassing. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
“They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions”. I hear Lauryn Hill in my head singing this one loud, on repeat, echoing behind me when I am being attacked and tormented by the Ironic Jukebox that lives deep inside my cerebral cortex. Haven’t you experienced this? Like when you (I) offer the lady your seat on the bus because she is pregnant and it seems too obvious that there is no way she is not carrying? But she is not, and now you biffed big time? Because you got up cheerfully, telling her that she needs it more because of the baby inside?… This is about good deeds gone bad. This is not to disuade anyone ever from doing something kind, but is to draw on the comical, the ironic, and the ridiculous boomerang effect that takes place every now and again when you have nothing but good thoughts in mind. I think it just might the devil on dial. Somehow he temporarily dislodged from the hot gates of hell and he’s at the control board and the mo-fo has got some dark-ass-humor. Kiiiinda dig it.
That being said, I’ve been feeling rather spritely lately. I’m thinking the spring has shaken something loose. Makes we wanna do something nice for the sake of nothing in particular. I wanna skip but I don’t because I want my lady-swagger, so I move cat-walk style on the streets and around town, and skip a bunch on the inside. Despite it raining like a maniac today (I think Mother Nature is PMSing or something), people out here are starting to stir and be over-the-top sweet to each other. Anyone else out there take notice of this?
Ex: People stop when I try to cross the street. Don’t matta if there are a bunch of cars behind them and I could have just as easily taken the cross walk. Or there are no cars behind them and they could have gone at regular speed and not made such a grand gesture of an event by slowing down and stopping unnecessarily. It’s dumb. I’m partially grateful because of the intention, but the rest of me actually prefers that people obey the rules of the road and get on with it. It’s simply more efficient. Don’t tell anyone that I said that I appreciate a rule. Please. Ok.
Today I was walking my (radical) dog in the rain and decided to cross the street. I was waiting on the curb for the cars to go by (and no, I wasn’t standing in the street) and a car stops out of nowhere for me to cross~ creating a pile up. For fucks sake. Nice one.
It’s the thought that counts?
Several years ago, in my hippy-nouveau days, I took this yogic workshop that focused on Ujjayi breathing. (I was the youngest person there and it blew my (not so) baby mind to be mixing with all of these middle-age, innocuously-strange, middle-class, workers -something rare in Portland as we are a town of retired 30-somethings.) It was a week-long workshop consisting of homework and practice routines and everything. Very involved. One of our assignments was to perform a random act of kindness. I was determined to be as unique and creative as possible. I talked to my roommate at length about ideas which he shot down repeatedly with the caveat of my actions being misinterpreted. Finally he left for work and I was left to my own devices. I wanted to do something that would reach completely stray people. I wanted to encourage them and have them think somebody out there really cared. I settled on the idea of writing anonymous love letters to strangers. Yes I sure did! Phone book in my lap, I pointed slapdash, at where ever my finger landed, wrote down their names and addresses, and mustered up some genuine sentiment for each person. I really tried to meditate on who they were and what kind of message they might have been needing. I felt the vibes. And really- who knows? Maybe the universe brought it. Either way, I did. And I did it 10x. I made ten different personalized and pretty envelopes. I wrote things along the lines of acting like I was someone from their past or someone on the periphery who had noticed big and beautiful changes and growth in them, and I wanted to acknowledge and applaud them in that… This likely took several hours. I do not recall. It sure felt good though! Off to the depths of the mailbox they went, and when my roommate got home and inquired about my project, acted slightly horrified. “What if you cause a fight between couples?” “What if someone thinks their man is cheating with you (but of course I hadn’t included a return address)?” “What if they get scared that they are being watched?!” Well shit. The god-damn flip side. Buzzzzz kill. Good intentions gone awry? I may never know.
One other example I will give you is as follows. It was a couple of summers ago, on a particularly hot day. I was walking passed a highly foot-trafficked intersection where this dude was laying, passed-out on the ground. I swear I watched a bus pull up, people get out, and walk around the guy. Nobody stopped. Now granted, dude was gnarly looking. Crusty street kid, probably in his late twenties/ early thirties. He was shirtless, black pants, tattoos all around, and homey was frying there on the sidewalk. For really red. Zoinks! So up I go to see if I can help. I whisper gently to him and rouse him from his drug induced sleep. His eyes rolled slowly from the back of his head as he looked around trying to get his bearings. I informed him that he was passed out in the middle of the sidewalk and that he better go find some shade if he needs to sleep because he was burning baby burning. He got up, dazed and confused (no really! I get it now!) and stumbled into the street, nearly causing a few accidents, and smashing hard into this old man. He thinks the old man pushed him, so he pushes the poor old guy into the street! Luckily there were no cars there at the moment! I had created a monster. I truly considered calling the police. Eesh.
Anyways, those are two of my tales of the flip side of things. I have no moral to this story. Shit happens. Moral enough for ya?
I would love to hear your experiences along these lines. Entertain me por fa!
How about some lawful entertainment? …I’m following the rules today! Well- with my eyes, that is. Fingers too. By proxy. Aaaand that’s about it- but you gotta start somewhere. And I am transferring some still on record legal stipulations that could and in some cases did/ do(?!) land folks in hot water, complete with some commentary by yours truly. Easy entertainment, babes.
As you’re reading this I encourage you to think about the scenarios behind the makings of these laws. I mean come on- for something to get passed from a bill through the house and make it all the way to a shiny law is a big to-do. There are some wing-nuts out there for sheezy. But you already knew that… Ju ready?
Alabama: It is illegal to wear a fake mustache that causes laughter in church. They might distract from the hilarity of toupees.
Alaska: Whispering in someone’s ear while he’s moose hunting is prohibited. Save the sexy, primal, hunter/ gatherer build up for the campsite fellas’.
Arizona: Cutting down a cactus may earn you a twenty-five-year prison term. Cacti advocates unite.
Arkansas: It’s illegal to mispronounce the name of the state of Arkansas. Someone’s sensitive.
California: You may not eat an orange in your bathtub. See?? They don’t have all the fun!
Colorado: It is unlawful to lend your vacuum cleaner to you next-door neighbor (Denver). One can only begin to imagine what they tried to clean up.
Connecticut: A pickle cannot be a pickle unless it bounces. 5 second rule?
Delaware: It’s illegal to get married on a dare. Clearly they had this law in place before the days of double-dog-dares ever came into existence.
Washington, D.C: It’s against the law to post a public notice calling someone a coward for refusing to accept a challenge to a duel. Are signs on telephone polls considered public notices? How official are we talking? Ads in the Five and Dime? Is gossip a safe, lawful form of information spreading?
Florida: If you tie an elephant to a parking meter, you must pay the same parking fee as you would for a vehicle. This is a very good reason for road rage. So unfair when they park an elephant in prime locations!
Georgia: It’s illegal to change the clothes on a storefront mannequin unless you draw the shades first. Guess you gotta go pay for porn.
Hawaii: All residents may be fined for not owning a boat. Yes! Tax the poor!
Idaho: A man must not give his sweetheart a box of candy weighing fewer than fifty pounds. Hmmm… some insight into the obesity problem maybe? Competitive gift giving and chocolate eating. What a match.
Illinois: It’s illegal to take a French poodle to the opera (Chicago). I can just imagine the pair that tried to bring their snooty, snotty dog into the place. Muffy and Chaz.
Indiana: The value of pi is 4, and not 3.1415. You know, that is what is so great about math. It’s so flexible.
Iowa: One-armed piano players must perform for free. Damn, not even half price? No love. This does make perfect sense, as mastery of any instrument with one hand verses two requires no skill. No skill= no pay.
Kansas: It’s illegal to throw knives at men wearing striped suits. Polka dots make much better targets.
Kentucky: Every citizen is required to take a shower once a year. If only they would make this law in Portland for people on the bus. And in NY for people on the subway. And multiply it by 12. Ok 24. Fine 48.
Louisiana: Biting someone with your natural teeth constitutes simple assault, but biting someone with your false teeth classifies as aggravated assault. Man’s law.
Maine: If you keep your Christmas decorations on display after January 14, you’ll be fined. Like it’s gonna pull the snow away or something?
Maryland: It’s against the law to wash or scrub a sink, no matter how dirty it is (Baltimore). Umm ew?
Massachusetts: No gorilla is allowed in the backseat of any car. Clearly they’re fine at least w/ them driving there. Zing! And I’m thinking maybe that’s who was in charge of putting all those one-way streets everywhere inconvenient. Eh? Eh?
Michigan: A woman may not cut her own hair without her husband’s permission. Michigan: Home of the wuzbands.
Minnesota: It is illegal to paint a sparrow with the intent of selling it as a parakeet. Hahahahaha.
Mississippi: Walking a dog without dressing it in diapers is forbidden (Temperance). I have a solution. Yes- this really exists! And there are choices!! Rear gear
Missouri: Children may buy shotguns in Kansas City, but not toy cap guns. Somethings just make sense.
Montana: It’s a felony for a wife to open her husband’s mail. As it should be.
Nebraska: Bar owners may not sell beer unless they brew a kettle of soup simultaneously. Beer soup anybody? Or is it just borsht by default? Safe guesses.
Nevada: It’s illegal for men with mustaches to kiss women. Finally the government is on my side.
New Hampshire: It’s forbidden to sell clothes you’re wearing to pay off a gambling debt. You KNOW this was a Very Sad Night for dude. Oof.
New Jersey: It’s against the law for a man to knit during the fishing season. Really pissed off the fish community.
New Mexico: Females may not appear unshaven in public. Did Santa Fe secede?
New York: While riding in an elevator, you must talk to no one, fold your hands, and look toward the door. I fantasize about performing social experiments in elevators all the time. Like: “So! How are you? What’s the best thing about today? Are you comfortable talking to strangers? What’s the craziest thing you ever did with a stranger? What’s the craziest thing you would do with a stranger? Have you ever heard Love in an Elevator? You ever made love in an elevator? Would you?” etc. The tip of the iceberg.
North Carolina: It’s against the law to sing off-key. Meanies. Hey! Wait! Are there any famous singers that came out of this place?! So discouraging! Look what happened. Poor singingless suckers.
North Dakota: It’s illegal to lie down and fall asleep with your shoes on. Or wake up with no eyebrows and cocks drawn all over your face? O wait, that’s party town rule, not U.S. wide…
Ohio: You must honk the horn whenever you pass another car, according to the state’s driver’s education. That’s just annoying. Nothing cheeky for you, Ohio.
Oklahoma: It’s forbidden to take a bite out of another person’s hamburger. Good, no one wanted your boring, middle of nowhere burger anyway, fatty.
Oregon: State law requires the dishes to be drip-dried. What. the. hell.
Pennsylvania: It’s illegal to sleep on top of a refrigerator outdoors. I am NEVER moving there. Settled.
Rhode Island: You may not bite off another person’s leg. Yes it really is their law. But what is striking to me is it seems to imply that the leg may not be bitten off with one swift munch, right? What about slow or even tender, calculated nibbles? Fork and knife? So civil.
South Carolina: If a man promises to marry an unmarried woman, he is required by law to keep his promise. Did anyone else just get Meatloaf in their heads? No? How about now?
South Dakota: It is illegal to lie down and fall asleep in a cheese factory. Concluding the fact that the moon is NOT made out of cheese.
Tennessee: Selling hollow logs is strictly forbidden. Walkin’ on the wild side.
Texas: You may not shoot a buffalo from the second story of a hotel. In Texas you face a buffalo like a real man. Mano a mano. Buffalo ain’t got nothing if you’re a real cowboy.
Utah: It is illegal not to drink milk. I am a total rebel in Utah! Yes!
Vermont: Women must obtain written permission from their husbands to wear false teeth. Haaaaaaaaa! “Only when we go out, baby.” Ah! Too. many. jokes. Bottlenecking!!
Virginia: Ticking a woman is unlawful. L is for Lame. At least amend it so that you can’t tickle a chica until she pees, but not a tickle? Not even one? Oh wait- I don’t care.
Washington: It’s illegal to pretend that one’s parents are wealthy. Do you think that some sucka rich babe of ripe dating age got conned by some slickster chap who brought it like it wasn’t? Parents didn’t ‘ppreciate that one, no sir.
West Virginia: If you make fun of someone who does not accept a challenge, you risk a six-month prison sentence. Wow. Touchy.
Wisconsin: Unless a customer specifically requests it, margarine may not be substituted for butter in a restaurant. Well, it is safer with butter it seems. I remember hearing about a test where two bowls were left in a rat infested warehouse. Butter went gone. Margarine went untouched. Supposedly. A la yuck.
Wyoming: Unless you have an official permit, you may not take a picture of a rabbit from January to April. They are more fit in the Spring? Bashful bunnies! New band name?
And I’m out. Hope you enjoyed. See you in Canada (;
Haaay party people. So- I recently had the honor from the sly, witty, brilliant, and muscularrr MrMaryMuthafuckingPoppins of being chosen as one his top 7 fave blogs. ((((Blush)))). Well! This is perfect for many reasons. Several things happened once this post was posted (hehe):
1. Inspiration. Awww yeah- “I’m so doing this.”-Lisa
2. Scopism. I got to scope his list and boOM! Some amazing writers surfaced that I likely would have never known about; thank you Mr. Mary, writer of the fabulous and cheeky, not to be missed (as he too, is one of my faves.) http://aspoonfulofsuga.wordpress.com/
3. Exposure. I got lotsa hits that day from awwwwl ova the place. Good thing I was dressed for the occasion.You know, my grandmother forever said that we must always wear clean underwear because we never know what could happen. Hmmm. There are so many ways that this could be taken now that I never entertained before. Grandma!
Then time crept in. And SHOCK and AWE- I was nominated by Emily of the shiny, sweet, entertaining http://groundingmyroots.wordpress.com/. Stars! This girl is also one of my favorites, so make sure you check hers.
I want to acknowledge all of these people and thank them, and now do a sort of hybrid on their questions and rules.
First, the questions, and then, some of the best blogs!
Drrrum roll please~~~~~~~~~~~
1. What’s the best thing that happened to you in the last 36 hours?
2. What are your pet peeves?
3. Did you have an imaginary friend growing up or did you want one? Tell us all! When did you part ways? Was it gradual? Im so jealous! I always wanted one but never got one!… Oh yeah, next question…
4. If you had the power to declare a national holiday what would you declare and why? Details please.
5. If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be? (You have the capital for this one, don’ worry)
6. What do you think of celebrity gossip?
7. What’s the theme song of your day, week, year, or life?
8. If you came with a warning label what would it be about?
9. Favorite quote or joke that you made up?
10. OCD?
11. Best pick up line anyones’ ever fed ya?
12. Tell us something embarrassing about your brain.
My answers to these questions are below my list of faves here. Checky-
With out further ado I present to you~ my top blogs. Enjoy!
* http://talesofacharmcitychick.com/ This woman is my long lost virtual sister. She is spry, real, insightful, witty, and sassy as they come. Total writers’ crush. Only read this if you enjoy laughing.
*http://mennlay.com/ Can I start of with Yum? Oh good. You’ll get it when you check her out. Intelligence, stylishness, sillyness… and she holds it down. Sounds vaguely familiar…. (;
* http://heapsofnimbus.wordpress.com/ This man has an outrageous eye. I am not kidding. He has a true gift. You’ll see. The proof is in the pudding. His writing is beautiful, creative, and succinct. A true artist.
* http://dearcabby.wordpress.com/ Because what is better in life then brief, chance moments with perfect strangers helping you suss out your woes? Solicited and unsolicited. Fabulous!
* http://furtherthanyouthink.com/ Written by a woman who originally hadn’t even considered the public being able to see her writing, setting it up for her family… This blog is a collection of her accounts of her life dedicated to travel and stints through out the world. She has a unique and intriguing approach. Worthy read.
*http://thesandytongue.wordpress.com/ Fucken yes. Give it to me. You sharp, quick witted, mo-fo. Yes you. You’ll be glad you check this dude out. He doesn’t hold back. Thank goodness.
So there are my blog choices. Everyone I mentioned on this little post. You are all just lovely. More please! Bless your creativity. Aaaand answer my questions!
1.What’s the best thing that happened to you in the last 36 hours? Me? Oh, well I think that would have to be getting out of the city and hiking up in Washington, and then hitting a super stashy outdoor boulder for climbing that only like 5 dudes know about (I won’t tell and you can’t make me!) and getting a feel for the cold, bold rock. (Dirty sounding, eh? You like it.)
2. What are your pet peeves? I’ll give you two. First, it makes my eye twitch when people say the word “guestimate”. Are you serious? You redundant little… Come on! An estimate is an educated guess. For crying out loud. You sound like an asshole. God, I feel better already. And also- “chillaxing”. Really? Gross. Second, when people park their bikes over a bar, taking up 2 spots instead of one. Use your front wheel and your fork, peeps, not the whole freaking frame. It’s just as safe! Ahhh!
3.Did you have an imaginary friend growing up or did you want one? Aw boy did I ever wish that I did. I wanted one so bad. I thought you either had one or you didn’t. I couldn’t fake the funk but I sure was open to it. Just never happened. Good thing my dolls were alive…
4. If you had the power to declare a national holiday what would you declare and why? Details please. I have a few in mind. For the sake of this Q, I’ll give you one, as I intend to write a rather entertaining (ahem) post of this: National Dress Like a Ho Day. Bare with me. I am saving Halloween! It is painfully obvious that American’s are sexually repressed. Come Halloween- the end of chilly chilly October, the opportunity arises to dress up in whatever people’s hearts desire. The majority of women take this time to dress pretty skanky and that is totally their prerogatives. Now, the problem that I have is that Halloween is not being honored. When else is the veil between worlds the thinnest? When else can we slip together into that spooky spirit? It’s so cool!!!!! It’s my favorite holiday and it is being sullied by these poor, repressed people! Lets have National Dress Like a Ho holiday in the summer. That will please everyone.
5. If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be? Buenos Aires, Argentina. Cosmopolitan, foxy, healthy… Close to tropics, ocean, and glaciers? Ok!
6. What do you think of celebrity gossip? Rrrrubbish. Knowing famous people’s dirty laundry is a fascination that sounds awfully boring.
7. What’s the theme song of your day, week, year, or life? Hmm, I pick year so far.
8. If you came with a warning label what would it be about? Um, don’t piss me off? Hm, that’s not good enough. Let me think. I stumped myself! Extremely picky eater? No, that’s lame. Fickle. Yeah, that’ll do. Shoot, sorry. Do better then me on this- such a good question!
9. Favorite quote or joke that you made up? How did Italians invent spaghetti? They used their noodles! hahahaha.
10. OCD? Must. sweep. Ok, fine, also if I spin around one way I have to unwind myself the other way. Whateva whateva
11. Best pick up line anyones’ ever fed ya? It’s a tie: Someone a while back told me I had the eye of the tiger. I believe they were completely sincere. Recently a hippy man told me that I was one of the 9 daughters of Zeus. SSsssnap!
12. Tell us something embarrassing about your brain. This is bad. I apologize in advance if I offend anyone: Oftentimes from afar when I see an obese person- I think it’s two people making out. I’ve come to terms with this in the last year. I don’t know why this happens. It’s not by choice. So strange.
Here lies a formal request for a bit more of your attention in perusing the proceeding words than that of the ones that I normally post.
This is an interactive one, kids; reading far more effectively if you would please affix a fair and cheeky British accent to it, and at about the half way point, take on the cadence and musical accompanyment of the lullaby: “Hush Little Baby”…
Well! What do you know!? I just looked it up to make certain that the name was correct, and not say, called “Mockingbird” and guess what- it is British too!
We are smoking!
Ok, and I will let you know when the melody kicks in, so have no anxiety.
The background here is that this stems from an ongoing debate that I have been privy to a few times concerning “average and normal” people taking anti-depressant medication to “be even happier”. Yes, this is on the table now. The implications are rather tremendous, as it holds thought processing (and emotional, spiritual, intellectual, life experience… growth) in the balance. It’s a popular discussion.
When happy is just not good enough… I thought of it as what follows~
(((accent begins now)))
Life is like holiday with cosmetic neurology-
Where everything good just got BETTER.
When you look at ya’ mug and your face is just snug, rest assured- you’re no longer a fretter.
You say you are fine; no nagging complaints, or major frights.
But you’re human and bound to get nervous.
So riddle me this and you’ll owe me a kiss as for you do I ever have a service!
Now what would you say, aside from that I made your day, if I told you that you might never loose your smile?
Could you ever believe that sheer bliss could be achieved, by yours truly if you’d listen short while?
Well I’ll bring the news that comes in capsules and tubes, while you put these in your mouth and say bye bye to the blues…
<< begin lullabye tune now (moderate amount of pep)>>
Say so long to the wayward ups and downs.
Farewell to the questions that ran you around.
Be gone with the wonder and daily stresses of life.
Am I enticing and tickling your fancy allright??
So let’s say the perma-grin that your working towards,
starts to crack the skin- it’s not much of a chore.
There’s no need to fret over a tiny few wrinkles.
Don’t like what you see? Here- just take these pink pills.
Now we’re hopped up on meds and it swimmies our heads, but we’re happier now then anyone ever named Fred.
It’s ok if your voice sounds pinched a couple of octaves,
or you have a sinking sensation,
or feel trapped in a cockpit.
The side affects are nil and the benefits gargantuan,
For ever so happy, who needs thoughts to think upon?
Blindly trust in the pharma-biz, and trust in your doc.
Have faith in big business; replenish your stock.
No more regular worries’- you’re not a plebe.
And don’t listen when the poor folks say your soul has been thieved.
This is nearly as natural as God had intended~
why else would we provide
a way that your enbended introspection’s been untied??
My case has been stated and your comfortably convinced~~~
that being just ok in these days is actually the pits.
