31 October 2012

0 october: a revue


"oy. so many fecal samples."

"duh, grieving!"

"you're just like, 'fuck the world, i'm wearing a beard!'"

"i was like, 'you're putting miscellaneous parts for other vehicles in my car?'"

"the boom at the end screams douchebag."

"i was briefly confused (excited? horrified?) earlier today in the potty."

"it's amazing how something so incomprehensible can suddenly make so much sense after 8 attempts."

"often brilliant. with giant hair and big boobs."

"he's like a puppy, with big muscles."

"what a delicious thing to craft together."

"this is disgusting. and, of course, intriguing."

"do you remember at this festival thing that franklin had every year that there was an area where the kids could go and get wrapped up like they were injured in the war of northern aggression??? you could go in and pick what body part was horribly injured, they would wrap it up in gauze, and then squirt red water on it to make it look like you were bleeding horribly."

"stylistically, it looks like a levi’s commercial."

"i want sunshine and my prosciutto sandwich of glory."

"truth bomb: water conservation matters."

"i believe in our ability to eat good food."

"the treatment is to take cortisone and eat lemons."

"i'm clearly not cut out for the circus."

"tell me more about the semi-automatics. way, way hot!"

"follow your flu shot heart."

"there are only rooms for so many dreams within a 3 year old’s head."

"is it bad that the hair swaps are pretty much the defining moments coming out of these debates?"

"i mean, from one of the most historic museums in oklahoma, all i can remember is the buffalo who eats your trash."

"we're in a house in the middle of nowhere and we just saw a man in an unnatural position in a crashed car..."
"your dad has a lot of guns."
"but he didn't even come out of the house when we got home!"

"one-way sounds so official."

"i will not do Oral Reading with an ill man."

"i was ENTIRELY too relieved that bristol palin got sent home from DWTS last night. like, “faith restored in humanity” kind of relief."

"it is supposed to get cooooold this weekend too. (i realize that sounds absolutely wussy when i tell this to someone who lives near lake michigan.)"

"i tried a “breakfast for dinner meal” last night, making gluten free sweet potato pancakes. more like gluten free sweet potato crash and burn!"

"i, in contrast, bought pumpkin pancake mix for pancakes that i did not make."

"how do you have such regular access to cabins?"

"bright side.. i’m not bloaty today!"

"stuff it with… quinoa? TBD."

"my fridge is all kinds of baraked."

"i'm like a junkie going back to the junk."

"how is it 2012, and they do not make black band aids???"

"he looks a little douchey but i'd make out with him."

"lady that was a man with a mullet is reading at the bar."

"i failed as a woman in that pool that day."

"as soon as you offer to serve me food... we are not sleeping together."

"how swarthy is your child?"

" we may gather walnuts tonight! doesn’t that sound dreamy???"

"ARE there bountys in my house?"

"in other news, I am wearing The Lipstick today, mostly because i slept poorly, and am hoping fire engine red lips will mask the tired."

"i am supes envious of your pound puppies."

"hell's bells, we're old."

"mariah carey, my weave is better than yours."

0 LYM!


(btw, lots of gary/debo time ahead so there's liable to be an infusion of family forwardness here. brace yourselves!)

when my parents were in town last week, my dad lost his phone. 

and so debo did what she does and extended joe and burvil's phone contract into the heavens so my dad would be entitled to an iphone. a technology he so does not need but which it nonetheless filled her with glee to give him, and which i loudly lamented with the complaint that i'd now be privy to endless disasters in autocorrect.
 
my mother looked at me blankly and said, "why, whatever do you mean?"

it pained me somewhat to inform her of something she was entirely unaware. namely, that every single day of the last year, my mother has at least once signed off an email with the statement: "live you munches."

this is my family. i've been with them for 31 years so there's no reason in the world that i didn't anticipate what happened next. 

new catch phrase, ya'll! 

it's "live you munches" 24/7. 

LOL. 

LYM! 

0 a very special Problem Solved 90210 halloween bonus: “i like your mask"


In “when a girl dresses like a slut…” i mentioned that i’ve never ever been able to picture jason priestly and christine elise as real people who dated for a long period of time in real life, mostly because their characters seem so sincerely bored with one another on 90210. BUT…
have i got a Treat for you. it’s jason priestly and christine elise in, like, real life wearing their real life masks!!! lookit:
ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
be real. DO YOU LOVE THIS???  {continue reading}

29 October 2012

2 storytelling


in july 2010, my parents started getting ready for something. they did not know precisely what. but, to that end, they completed a disaster relief course.

this past week, when they came to town, they brought their disaster relief kits and pitched camp on my living room floor. this is how, after we spent a solid twenty minutes googling gungnum style, i wound up sitting perched between my parents blow up beds regaling them with tales of princess diana and the stigma of celebrity mental illness.

in the middle of my recounting of martin bashir's betrayal against earl spencer, when my mother had put on her sleeping mask and it looked like my dad had dozed off, i said, "well, it's probably time to go to bed."

and without opening his eyes, my dad said, "you can't stop in the middle." and, without removing her mask, my mom said, "you have to finish our bedtime story."

0 PS90210: “when a girl dresses like a slut…”


Hey, ya’ll. so, as you may be aware, it’s the time of year again when we all sexify and slut up for some halloweening. in that spirit, let’s get in our time machines and go to the wayback of season 2 to revisit what appears to have been the only 90210: the high school years all hallow’s eve episode…
first things first: season 2 was all about sluts. like, in a major major way. so today, class, we’re going to be examining portrayals of women who wear sexy dresses in the classic 90210 season 2 episode “halloween.”
second things second: i think i’ve reposted this post maybe three times now, which raises a question really only of any concern to me… namely, is this my favorite episode of 90210? let’s ponder.
it’s got all the ingredients…
emily valentine!
sympathetic honorable steve sanders!
costumes!
a party!
brenda luvs dylan 4ev!
scott “guns can be fun” scanlon!
pumpkins AND raisins!
i mean, i wish there were more ahhhhhhhhndrea here because there’s a decidedly sad lack of ahhhhhhhndrea here, but aside from that “halloween” is very nearly the perfect episode. {continue reading}

27 October 2012

0 recommended reading

i've never read hilary mantel and i didn't know who she was and i probably wouldn't have read this article if i weren't trying to stay awake in the houston airport, but this article in the new yorker is FASCINATING:

Why would a writer write about the distant past, that reader might wonder, if not to escape the realist discipline imposed by familiarity? If not to flee to a world blurry enough so that men can behave like Vikings and not seem ridiculous, and ladies can be ladies without being pathetic? And if a writer writes about historically significant people then she is forced into a respectful posture that depreciates her status still further, since it has become one of the hallmarks of literary fiction that its authors regard their characters with something between affectionate condescension and total contempt.These, then, are some of the obstacles that the serious novelist must consider in deciding to leave the safe precincts of the present and venture into the past. 
(via)

26 October 2012

0 :)


0 question of the day

could i rock a turban?
after two days of debate, lindear and i are 97% certain the answer is yes.


2 red lips

my mother and i have this years long ongoing effort to find a red lipstick that:

(a) doesn't make it look like our lips are bleeding and (b) stays put.

this has, thus far, gone not great.

but, in oklahoma, k.lo (ie. The Master)- delirious in walmart- found a shade that worked for me and i, in turn, told my mother.

debo's in town. after dinner with k.clen, after we ran home in the rain and all put on pajamas and piled in front of the tv to watch a beloved judy garland film, debo excused herself to go the bathroom.

she returned with red lips.

my father said nothing. we watched the movie until the end and everyone went to bed.

it was only then, with all the lights out, that i heard my father tell my mother: "them's be some RED LIPS. i can see them glowing in the dark!"

24 October 2012

5 iris apfel, you are my hero.


1 it's just as easy for you to come to me as for me to come to you as for you to come to me


one of the great stories to emerge from my father's 40 years of working at the IRS is the story of how one time, when he was a revenue agent, a taxpayer told him, "it's just as easy for you to come to me as for me to come to you as for you to come to me."

this story has been used to illustrate many many things, but today i think it means that we mustn't make things harder than they are. 

my parents are coming to town randomly. driving up. i talk to my father and he details their plans.

gary: "we're not planning on eating or drinking or stopping. we'll just leave at dawn and drive until we get there!"

me: (thinking) wtf?

and for about a minute i try to talk him out of his hare-brained scheme with some tough talk. along the lines of "you should maybe drink something... it's not the end of the world if you have to stop and pee..." and finally, "... you're no good to me here if you arrive totally exhausted." 

none of this swayed him. the man is dead set. and i realize here that it is just as easy for him to come to me as for me to come to him as for him to come to me. and i have to respect that because this is his adventure and not mine. 

fortunately, my adventures allow plenty of time for peeing. because peeing, my friends, is key.

1 wickered (photos by MK)






23 October 2012

1 forward




the argument i would extend in favor of doing the things you want to do and think you cannot is that they build on one another. 

i smoked a cigar. i had a fling. i spoke in public. i went to paris. i piloted a plane. i left the airport in warsaw. i flew on the trapeze. i shot a gun. 

truthbomb: i am a horrible coward. 

no, like, really really horrible. i dream big and talk big and then before every single thing i do, i'm stricken with total panic.

 i will die from mouth cancer! he will fall madly in love with me! i will be slaughtered in the french streets! we will crash into the sears tower! i will be slaughtered in the polish streets! i will die! i will shoot the dog! 

but here's the thing: i haven't died yet. and i didn't shoot the dog. 

these things we think we cannot do but do build on one another. the more you do, the more you realize you can do.

my father sent maybe the best email ever the other night. its bestness stems solely from this sentence: "you are getting a chance to fulfill dreams that both your mother and i had, each individually, and together, but never got to do (so far)." 

these things build on one another. not just in our own lives, but across the lives of others. up and across the generations. which is, at once, deeply narcissistic, but also romantic and mightily encouraging.  

here's how you fly on a trapeze:

you climb a freakishly skinny ladder.
you get buckled into a harness.  
you stand at the edge of a platform. 
you grip a bar with your two hands. 
you bend your two knees. 
you take one hop into nothingness. 
you swing through the air. 
you put your knees back over the bar. 
you let go.
you swing through the air.
you pull yourself back up to the bar.
you unhook your knees. 
you back-flip onto a net below. 
then you back-flip off the net.

when kti and i first got to the trapeze place, we marveled at how the people in the class before us back-flipped off the net. we thought, "no way in hell will we ever be able to do that!" turns out, that was the easy part. 

but we were capable of more than we knew. so often, we are. 

in the past week, as i've been waiting for things to line up for my next adventure as i want them to, waiting for them to fall into place in the order that i have arbitrarily deemed right, i've found myself thinking back to that moment on the platform, when i held the bar in my hand, stood there knees bent, and took a small hop into nothingness. 

i think back to that and it's like watching someone else. some other person, far braver than i, who got up there and did something i've always wanted to do but never ever could.

and, yet, that was me. i know it because my arms and abs are still sore. but still it's hard to reconcile. that i was there. that, cowardly as i am, i did that. 

it does, however, help with what's next, what's coming. i didn't shoot the dog. i haven't died yet. bar in hand, knees bent, i can jump. and i can let go. 

22 October 2012

0 :)


1 donovan's death


i find myself dropping it casually into conversation. casting everything that has happened in the last three months in terms of its proximity to donovan's death. whether it was before or after or on the night of.

donovan's death has come to represent a divide- between my chicago life and the beginning of the end of it.

it's also a reminder. that this happened. that it is real. the hole that's there.


0 dear george, it's maybe time to start dating a bit older

because it kinda looks like stacy's your nurse.