Monday, October 26, 2009

Stacy Grabbed My Junk And Other Reunion Stories

This past weekend, I went back to Decorah for my 25th high school class reunion. I know. I look too young. I couldn't believe it myself. A lot of people don't look forward to their reunions. We are fortunate to have a really fun class to get together with- and at only 150 in the class, we really know pretty much everyone. I was so proud of myself for staying up until 4 a.m. on Sunday morning. It was almost as good as a parade. So, here are some highlights.


MY HOSTESS
Ruthie was my hostess for the weekend and put me up at her house. You probably all know that Ruthie and I have known each other for almost 40 years after she appeared in the culvert with some Barbie dolls all those years ago. Yes, we played in the ditch and in the culverts in Iowa. As you can see, Ruthie is fun to hang with and I adore her.


RUTHIE AND SONG
Ruthie is prone to singing. She can't help it. She is genetically pre-disposed. Her entire family is inclined to burst into song at the mere suggestion of a lyric. So, Ruthie spent the entire weekend cajoling people to sing with her- Beatles songs, old choir tunes, songs we learned in 1st grade. If she had the chorus and remnants of verses, she burst into song. Here is Ruthie coaching people on old choir songs at the reunion pre-party on Friday night.
Here are Ruthie and Aimie doing a luau number called Hawaiian Rainbows that we learned in elementary school. I'm telling you, it was non-stop and only intensified with alcohol. As a result, Ruthie sang A LOT on Friday night. A LOT.


DIVERSITY

We weren't a terribly diverse class back in Decorah in 1984. Rich above and Shegun- two pictures up- were about it. That's kind of sad when you think about how white the town was. Before Rich and Shegun, the only diversity we had was between the blond and brown haired Norwegians. *sigh* We had some other diversity that emerged later- me and a lesbian- but that doesn't count because we weren't out then. We only had 50% representation from the homo camp. However, one classmate's wife could have easily stood in for a lesbian. She's, well, a little, you know... butch. And she smelled like Old Spice. Okay. She didn't smell like Old Spice. I'm making that up.

MY JUNK GOT GRABBED
You can probably tell just from this picture that Stacy (left) has a lot of fun potential. Saturday night, Stacy was having a lot of fun mixed with a little alcohol. Much dancing and merriment ensued. During my moving group karaoke rendition of Like a Virgin, Stacy joined us on the stage and grabbed my genitals briefly with her right hand. It was only a split second, but enough for me to need therapy for the next several years. Stacy, if you're reading this, wash your hands and know that I still think you're a ball- just don't grab at mine any more. Alright?


DIRTY DANCING
Since my personal safety and decades long friendship would be in jeopardy for posting this picture, I have decided to protect the identity of this woman. This display was a reenactment attempt of the Dance of The Virgin to try to seduce her husband to take the dance floor. Sadly, the steps had long since been forgotten and said husband remained in his chair.

ASS TATTOO- THE SEQUEL
Lisa showed me her ass tattoo again. And for the second reunion in a row, I took a picture of it. Here it is. Your ass is just as nice five years later, dear.



AGE DEFYING MAKEUP
Is it just me, or do we look GREAT? My pal Suzette, on the right, and I sat around marvelling at how good we look for all being 43 or 44. It's true. Aimie even got called a MILF by some college boys. Even though there is some hair missing or a few pounds thrown on here and there, we all looked really good for our age. Best of all, we still know how to have fun together.
TEA BAGGERS
I discovered early in the weekend that not many people knew what the term tea bagging is. So, I entertained myself by asking people I suspected of being conservative if they enjoyed the Glenn Beck tea bagging parties. Oh, how I amuse myself.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Crabby Ranting

Watch this. This is our nut bag 6th District state Representative Michele Bachmann. If you have time watch the whole thing. She's a piece of work.



There are so many things to say about Michele Bachmann and her unique brand of paranoia and lunacy. I used to think that she couldn't possibly believe all the lies, hatred and craziness that spew forth from her collagen enhanced lips and that she was a clever, calculating Republican hag. Now, though, I think she is just plain crazy and she does it all in the name of Jesus. Will someone who really believes in Jesus stand up and slap Michele and her lying conservative pals? It should sicken followers of Jesus that Michele and her cohorts wave the Jesus flag then fabricate lies for the American people to keep them in fear of anything that resembles change. Who believes this shit? Oh wait, that's coming up later.

A few notes for Jamie, the young woman who wrote the letter that Bachmann read in that irritating children's story time voice:


1. The clinic did not advise you or give you permission to CHOOSE to be sexually active at age 14. You CHOSE that. The clinic gave you protection- for your personal safety.


2. But, judging by the number of times you CHOSE to go back for the morning after pill, you clearly didn't CHOOSE to use that protection. Sounds like you also CHOSE to sleep with lots and lots and lots of boys. Bad CHOICE.

3. You also CHOSE to ignore the advice of your parents. Although, I'm guessing your parents probably weren't the great parents you paint them to be. Not many girls sleep around at age 14 without something seriously missing in the home. Just saying. Unless, of course, Jamie, you are mentally ill, which might be the case.

4. The clinic staff are not your parents. Your parents needed to take responsibility for parenting you. Too bad they didn't.

5. Don't blame the health clinic that offered you protection from your bad CHOICES for your bad CHOICES. You did it. You own it. Personal accountability- a Republican value- is about taking responsibility for your own CHOICES. Own them, forgive yourself and move on. Don't try to point the finger at anyone for this. There are lots of young girls who are curious about sex, have those feelings and CHOOSE not to. Yes, you were young and probably not in a great position at that age to figure life out, but they were your choices. Move on.

I heard a conservative commentator on NPR talking about all that Michele Bachmann is doing to stimulate the Republican base. Holy shit. Is THAT really what it takes to stimulate the Republican base- fabrication and exaggeration? Then we should all be scared. Who are these people that buy in to this? Watch this:



Listen, folks who believe the never ending stream of bullshit:
1. if a politician- Democrat or Republican- says something that sounds too terrifying to be true it probably is not true. But, if Glenn Beck or Rush Limbaugh or Sean Hannity say anything that sounds too terrifying to be true, it definitely is not true.
2. Glenn Beck, Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity are not the news. They are entertainment. They will be the first to tell you that. Believe me, folks, they are laughing at you all the way to the bank. These guys are not stupid men, they just know how to spin people who choose to live in fear of, oh let's say a black president, into a froth.
3. Nazism, Socialism and Fascism are really kind of opposing principles. Fucking look it up. You are viewed by much of the world as MORONS for trying to equate the three.
4. Think for yourself. Can you try it at least? It is entirely possibly for two opposing opinions to have elements of truth. Not all issues are black and white. There exists far more gray in the world than pure black or pure white. You just have to agree to host ambiguity in your brain.
5. Don't be afraid. That black man in the White House won't hurt you.

6. Oh, and that black man hasn't raised your taxes. Quit it. He hasn't. And George Bush likely didn't cut yours either unless you're filthy rich.


Okay. Enough of my bitching for now.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

I Love A Parade: Cranberry Festival

This weekend, we had Curt's mom and step dad and our friend Marina up to the cabin. Why? Cranberry Festival in Stone Lake. Why not? As you know, I love a parade, especially a small town festival's parade. The whole festival took place in a town that has about 500 residents. Saturday, the population was about 15,000. This festival was nice, because it felt local and home grown. On a bog tour, we got a brief history of the Cranberry Festival parade. I guess it started 30+ years ago when four local women "sitting around their kitchen table" (here you should read, drinking too much) went outside and started a four person parade and encouraged everyone to join in. Hmmm.
So, every parade needs grand marshalls. I think everyone in this town will eventually get to be grand marshall at some point. I didn't catch their names because I was distracted by the sparkly car decoration.

Check out the flaming grill on this fire vehicle. Fancy.

These were the Senior Center King and Queen. The queen was hanging out her window waving vigorously. The old guy sat back, less enthused, and was probably thinking about the shitty food they're serving at the old folks home and wondering if he can make a break for the pork chop on a stick stand.

King Tot and his Cranberry Court. Remember these kids from the Spooner Rodeo Days parade where they looked all hot and miserable? They were a little more enthusiastic this time. Someone must have read them my blog comments from their last appearance. See that little girl in the red robe on the right? I later saw her drinking water from a frisbee like a dog. Love her.

MAN OF THE YEAR!! MAN OF THE YEAR!! Tom McDonnell. Do you know him? Me either. Nice car though.

This is one of the three marching bands. Three is a pretty darn good turn out in this economy when schools are selling children into the sex trade for football uniforms. Or at least that's the rumor in Glenn Beck circles.

Okay. Let me ask you this. Would you want to be forever known as a Musky Queen? I've met some rather musky queens in my day and it is not a title I would want to be saddled with. However, I have to give them credit, because, unlike all the sad sack queens in the Spooner Rodeo Days Parade, these queens were having a great time.

Here is another queen having a great time in a dress that completely clashes with her float. Good job pushing through that fashion mishap, I say.

Yet another marching band. I love it when the percussion sections go by. I loved that when I was a kid, too. It was like I could feel the vibrations throughout my body.
One of these cub scouts hasn't earned his posture badge yet. Can you guess which one? So, this little display of scoutiness was nice, but look at the atrocity that followed behind them (see below):
This old thing! He wasn't fooling anyone in that dusty rose neckerchief. One day the scout master is going to figure out that this guy isn't the 10 year old he's pretending to be and then all hell is sure to break loose.

And still yet, another marching band. We love the marching bands.

These old gals fall squarely in the category of "Fun at a Party." Perhaps a little too fun. We figured that the pink ladies were like the Red Hat Society only with lots and lots of liquor. Maybe a little weed too.

This is more like it. While the Spooner Rodeo Days Parade had their own version of politics, Cranberry Festival had politics more to my liking. And who doesn't like likeable politics?
Here is the Singing Cranberry. He serenaded us with songs like "Ain't I Tart?" and other catchy numbers. He was a real highlight of the parade for me, until you see what's coming up later.

Recognize these gals from Spooner? They didn't even bother to dress up, but they sure waved a lot better than last time. Again, someone must have read them my last blog post. I guess I'm performing a public service here?
Don't bother to analyze this, but this was the highlight of the parade for me. I loved, loved, loved it. It was completely unpretentious and homespun and it made me smile when it drove by. A horse tank, riding lawn mower and an outdoor umbrella. I guess I am easy to please.
This was a great float from a plumbing company. The guys were sitting on toilets with their pants down around their ankles throwing candy over the top. The woman standing next to me was a complete stranger, but I dared her to go see what the boys were wearing under the stall door. So, there she is checking out the boys. I've never seen a woman with a cane run so fast. Larry Craig would have been proud of her technique. She was a gem.
Here's the cutest candy tosser in the parade. Funny thing though- she was not letting go of that candy.
All in all a great parade and a fun day. The soap box derby followed the parade. We got to see 10 year old Megan in her lavender car kicking the boys' butts down a big hill. Cool.