Nov 29, 2012

Does this look like a "Bring Your Own Porn" establishment?

If you've been around my blog for a while — or at all, really — you'll know that I like'a the sex. Sex is good. But in saying that, I'm also not a skanked out slag that has no morals or tact; there is a time and place for everything, including porn . . .

When you are dining out in a restaurant is not one of those times!

Ooh, yes. While my good friend was waiting on a table of two moms with their children in tow, she overheard some strange moans coming from the next table, and more specifically from a 50-something man's smart phone. No headphones. Volume turned way up.

They were the sounds of a woman getting filled out like an application, if ya know what I mean - and I think you do. Are you fucking kidding me?

In a public place! Where people are trying to have a nice dinner! My friend, being both appalled and non-confrontational, asked one of the guys from the kitchen to have a word with the man. And here's where it gets even better, because when it was time for my friend to take their order, he had the nerve to complain to her about having been asked to turn off his device! She defended the request, mentioning that it wasn't exactly "appropriate content" for either the staff or other patrons to be overhearing.

And apparently, this guy was either the world's most pathetic liar, or was born yesterday . . . in a bubble, because his defense was, "I didn't know this type of material was on the internet!"

Yeah, right. Just like I had no idea how that bottle of Calvin Klein perfume appeared down my pants when I was fourteen.

Uuuuuuh huh.

So, really. If you know someone that cannot even go out to dinner without pondering ways to thicken their Alfredo sauce, then it might just be time for an intervention . . . or at the very least, please order take away from now on, for fuck's sake!

Ew.


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Completely unrelated!
I had the awesome pleasure in meeting 
Jenn from Fox in the City this weekend. 
Here's her take on how those shenanigans all went down.

(PS. That's totally my West Side gang sign.)



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Nov 23, 2012

Because who doesn't love dirty words?

I've only been home with the boys for one week . . . five damn days . . . and I'm already sinking deeper into my shameful, juvenile self-amusement to help pass the time. Don't get me wrong, it's been amazing not being in a RUSH to get anywhere, but of course, I have my moments.

Like this one - since apparently, I cannot be trusted with alphabet beads - I thought I might as well share my warped, yet satisfying word making joy with the rest of you! (And yes, Bearded Iris, I thought of you most of all. And that's why we're friends.)

So here's the deal: There are TEN dirty words in this jumble. THIS IS NOT A FUCKING WORD SEARCH. It's just all the letters of 10 words jumbled together in a hot mess; there are no extra decoy letters, I promise. Get it? Good.

I will give one hint: DOUCHEBAG is not one of the words.

The convenient thing is that just a short while ago, I received TWO copies of Michelle Rumball's new album with a personal "thank you" from her and I'd been meaning to figure out how I was going to give them away. Who's Michelle Rumball, you ask? Remember when I did that video a while back? That's the musician and yes, THAT song is on the album. She's pretty fantastic! If you enjoyed the video, you'll love the album!

So, those are the prizes; and I have twoooo. Enter your 10 word guesses in the comments -- two people who get them all right (or the closest to getting them all right) will get sent this fabulous CD.

Forgot the song? Oooh, here it is . . . (cough, cough, self promotion, cough, cough)


And yes, I was doing all this while the boys were making "I LOVE GRANDMA" bracelets. 
I realize I'm a horrible mother, whatever. 
They can't read yet! 
Ahem.

Nov 20, 2012

Top 10 Movies I'm Ashamed to Love

Some horrific movie was on television over the weekend and my husband casually observed, "Isn't that one of those stupid movies that you love?" To which I replied, "Umm, which one? I should have a list . . ." Then lo and behold, a new Top Ten was born, forged in the pit of self loathing and masochism with flecks of premature ejaculations of hopeless romanticism. Yes, that sounds just about right.

10. Sky High. (Rotten tomato meter: 6.5/10)
Honestly, I have no excuse for this movie. It's like the cheesy Disney version of The X-Men but I love it hard; just looking at the movie poster makes me shake my head with shame. The only defending quality I can think of is that they cast Lynda Carter as Principal Powers, and that's fucking awesome.

9. Sister Act (1 & 2). (Rotten tomato meter for 1: 5.7/10, for 2: 3/10)
Goddamn you, Whoopi! I just cannot resist you funkifying all the old church tunes with your more-often-than-not off key "show girl" voice. (PS. If Whoopi Goldberg can pass as a Vegas show girl/headliner, than I'm gonna sign up for the next Victoria's Secret runway show.) Anyways, I wanted to spoon all those adorable supporting actress nuns. And I own both of the soundtracks too. Suck it!

8. Ever After. (Rotten tomato meter: 7.5/10)
I love Drew Barrymore, but by Christ, she was fucking awful in this -- and I barely care. Why? Two main reasons: A. Dougray Scott wears mantards the entire movie and is a proper piece of eye candy, and B. Melanie Lynskey plays one of the step-sisters. You likely know her best as bat shit crazy Rose on Two and a Half Men. Yes, her. She's super funny and lovely in this movie: "Of course not, Mother! I'm only here for the food."

7. National Treasure. (Rotten tomato meter: 5.3/10)
It's Disney doing action; they've got the formula down to a fine art and dammit, it reels me in every time. Even Nicolas Cage (whom my loathing for is only surpassed by one other, and I will get to him later down the list) and his dopey melodramatic epiphanies of problem solving genius don't bother me. It's exciting and I love phony historical action mysteries that are neatly tied into Hollywood bows, perhaps something I shouldn't be okay with, but I really am. It's like the Walmart version of Indiana Jones, and shit, I just love me a bargain!

6. Blast From The Past. (Rotten tomato meter: 6/10)
My husband told me I'd have to put at least ONE Brendan Fraser movie on this list and I had to choose this one. I knew it was going to be fabulously gag-worthy when the main characters are revealed as Adam and Eve, I mean . . . really? However, I think my love for this movie is similar to Sister Act - the supporting actors fucking rock. Christopher Walken, Sissy Spacek and Dave Foley? Just fantastic.  Alicia Silverstone plays pretty much the exact same character as her Clueless's Cher, which is the role she was born to play. I would have put Clueless on this list, but then again, WHO DOESN'T LOVE CLUELESS?

And now I just thought of Brittany Murphy and I'm sad . . .

OK, back to the countdown!

5. Save the Last Dance. (Rotten tomato meter: 5.5/10)
Awe, shit. I'm not even allowed to watch this movie while my husband is in the house; anywhere on the property, actually. I still think it's because he's never gotten over the fact that I've had my ebony and ivory phase, but whatever - he shouldn't have asked if he didn't want to know the truth. HA! I ate up the whole "I'm a ballerina but I have to go live in the 'hood because my mom's dead because of me because I'm a spoiled brat" thing with a giant shovel. And Sean Patrick Thomas? Mmm mmm mmm. (Ssshhhhhh.)

4. Just Friends. (Rotten tomato meter: 5.2/10)
I am a massive Ryan Reynolds fan, and I have been since his Van Wilder days. Me and my Alanis Morissette Scarlett Johansson Sandra Bullock Blake Lively voodoo doll cannot hide this fact. I have to say though, on a more serious note, this movie is pretty much the gender reverse of my life, so I related to it on a very personal level - except my fat suit is fucking fused on! Snort! And if you never watch this movie, you have to at least watch this . . .


3. Constantine. (Rotten tomato meter: 5.5/10)
Fuck you, Keanu Reeves. I hate you so much! But apparently, what I love even more than hating Keanu is freaky religious Apocalyptic shit based on a comic book. I'd be slightly torn if I had to decide who's the better Satan, Peter Stormare in this movie or Viggo Mortensen in The Prophecy, but I might have to lean towards Peter - he's that fucking bad ass. As a warning, I'll admit that this movie drags in and out, and, umm, Keanu being Keanu, but the last 20 minutes are seriously hardcore and it blows my freaking mind. 

2. Bring It On. (Rotten tomato meter: 6/10)
Sigh. Cheerleaders. Double Sigh . . . Awesome. Oh wow. Like totally freak me out, I mean right on! If this movie is on television, I must watch it. I think the husband secretly doesn't mind it either, because of, well, the cheerleaders. But I think the script is hilarious and cleaver -- not to mention that I'm a big Eliza Dushku fan. I might have even called my husband Eliza once or twice, but he didn't mind. Ahem.

1. BioDome. (Rotten tomato meter: 1.8/10)
Yup. It's one of my dirtiest secrets. And I enjoyed Son In-law too. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? I can't even blame myself for clinging to nostalgic tastes from my youth on this one because I just watched it for the first time in years a few months ago and I still laughed my ass off. The scene when the get high on the nitrous oxide is extremely funny to me, along with many other parts that I adore for their utter ridiculousness. But, yes, I'm still kind of embarrassed, and it's one of the main reasons that prevents me from mocking someone who believes that Twilight has any cinematic integrity whatsoever, because . . . BioDome.


And I fucking love it.

"Dennis Hopper Blue Velvet. Oh I'm slutty! Oh I'm slutty!"
~ Bud Macintosh

Nov 15, 2012

A blessing in disguise

There was hurt, betrayal, nausea, panic, and the feeling that my life had been ripped right out from underneath me. I imagined an obnoxious douche muppet laughing at me while he held the edges of the rug as I fell, but make no mistake, his identity was clear. Very clear.

Now it's been a few days and I have finally been able to catch my breath. That nauseous pain of looming dread has subsided. I have even been able to sleep a couple nights without angry words swirling around my mind like a screaming motherfucking tornado.

After all that had calmed down, I began to think.
I thought about all the long nights I stayed up to 3am working with no compensation.
I thought about how even working as much as I did, I was still being paid about 20% less than I should have been earning, and had been refused a raise twice.
I thought about how I was guilted into coming off my maternity leave early because they "needed me".
I thought about how I was paying so much for childcare that I could barely afford other essentials, like groceries.
I thought about how I haven't been able to switch off even once since 2007, even on holiday - even on my trip to Australia in 2010, I worked on my laptop every night when I could have been, oooh, I don't know, enjoying my friends that I traveled 22 hours on a plane to see? . . .
I thought about how I even began seeing a therapist because I feel like I was unraveling. Me! The one in the group who "always had it together".

Yes, I have been thinking about all of that and wondering why I had let it go on as long as I did.
Fear, most likely.

But now this fear has been made my forced reality, and do you want to know something? It's not so bad.

I've been angry and stressed out for so long that this fear is nothing more than the sickly little runt of the litter . . . box.

And for the first time since my children were 8 months old, I've been able to play with them -- I mean REALLY play with them -- without all the shit I was going to have to deal with at work the next day running through the back of my mind. Distracted.

After putting up with 5 years of bullshit, my mind in finally clearing and it's pretty damn spectacular.


Mama's Losin' It

Nov 10, 2012

A Whore Week

Well, here is another Friday that is about to pass this November, and I have to say that from my perspective this month is still kicking my ass. Last week, Thing 1 contracted impetigo, which is like the daycare version of herpes, as far as I'm concerned. Fucking disgusting germ factories, they are - the institutions and the little people inside them. But this all will soon be a distant memory, however, since they will be stopping daycare in a few short days. Why, you ask?

Ohh, because I lost my job. Ya know, no biggie . . .

I mean, holy motherfucking tripping balls.

I realize that it's nothing too huge in the grand scheme of things and that it happens to families every second of every day, but when it happens to you, it really does feel like a giant kick to your stomach.

Mortgage? Debt repayments? Car? Insurance? Groceries? TWO OF FUCKING EVERYTHING?

We were "just" scraping by and were counting down the days when the boys started "free" school in the fall. Well, didn't that grandiose plan just get flushed down the proverbial shitter? I've been employed continuously since my first job as a golf caddie when I was 12, so I'm not quite sure what to do about this whole "not having a job" thing.

I think I'm meant to cook, clean, take care of the child'ens, and shit, right?

Well, fuck me; that sucks.

I commend anyone that can stay home and happily raise their children, it's hard ass work. I know this, but I've also known that it's never been something I would be good at. I will admit that I love my kids the most when I only see them a limited number of house per day. I love working and creating - it is when I'm my best me. And that's the me that is the best me for my kids to have as a mom.

Does that make sense? I'm going to go ahead and assume you said, "Yes!"

And through fights with my work (who are trying to withhold pay that I've earned), to ruining relationships over a decade old, to realizing we'll have to be eating a lot of 27¢ packets of instant noodles for dinner and could very well lose our home, and my son's face is peeling off into crusty bits, I'm trying to focus on the fact that it's all superficial shit at the end of the day. We'll bounce back, eventually.

And maybe I'll get ripped off for the ump-teenth time by the same douche muppet.
And perhaps we'll have to get a different address.
And I'm sure that Thing 1 will survive.

But my friend around the corner is dying.

So yes, I had a fucktastic week that proceeded to bend me over and ram a fat one up me, but it could be worse. It can always be worse.

"Well, I say we get drunk, because I'm all out of ideas." (Metatron, Dogma)

Yup, it's about that time, folks.

Cheers!



Nov 1, 2012

Breaking Amish: Illustrated

I've always had issues with the Amish and Mennonite ways of life, ever since I was a teenager and spent a week with a Mennonite family and I was all like, "Your shit is ridiculous!" They fascinate me in an infuriating way. Don't get me wrong, I have issues with pretty much all organized religion, mostly for all the same reasoning: hypocrisy. Anyway, since the first time I saw that there was going to be a show called Breaking Amish, I absolutely knew that I would have to watch every episode. With the controversy that it's mostly "staged" (aren't all "reality" shows staged?), I take it with a grain of salt, but there are some core conflicts about the Amish way of life that have been addressed -- ones that drive me to literally eat my hair (I do that when I'm stressed; I realize it's disgusting, let's move on, shall we?). I thought instead of streaming a list of complaints, I made some illustrations for your viewing pleasure . . .

And that's all I really have to say about that.