He Had No Identifying Characteristics

Owl Says

2011-09-13T21:58:00.000-05:00

Here are a few things I don't give a hoot about. Let's see if you agree.

Beyonce's baby bump. The only thing I slightly care about here is that the baby doesn't come out looking like it's ugly ass father. He must be well hung and eager to please, because I can't see any other reason for hopping in the sack with him.
Kim Kardashian's wedding or any other Kardashian activity.
Sarah Palin's opinion on anything. Well, except when she weighed in on the skyrocketing price of SlimJims earlier this summer, THAT was news.
Daily updates on the fascinating lives of children. Let me clarify. I like children. I do. But, damn, I don't care if little sweet pea farted and sneezed at the same time or smiled funny at you today. Save the updates for some real news- like a teen pregnancy or something involving scandal.
Anything 'Twilight.' I suffered through the first moving at the urging of a niece. Holy crap. It was so bad. And, Bella, get a life, dear.
Any words that come out of Nancy Grace's pie hole.
Steroids use in cycling. Quit trying to defend yourself, Lance. Let it rest. We know you doped. Everyone in cycling does.
Brangelina.
Reading anything by Jonathan Franzen.
Respecting the religious views of those who don't respect mine.
Keeping my opinions to myself in front of #10.
People who say things like "Keep your government hands off my Medicare."
If my neighbors can see me trotting through the house in my underpants. If you don't like it, pull your blinds. They've never complained.
Your healthy eating habits. I really struggle with mine and would appreciate it if you didn't tell me how much you really crave lettuce.
Green cleaning products. I've tried them and until they work as well as traditional cleaning products, I won't use them again.

Sorry folks, it's been a long time...

2011-08-17T19:47:00.000-05:00

Hello again, fans and friends, if I have any left at all after this lengthy absence. I am trying to expunge the first half of 2011 from memory. Why expunge? Well, after three rounds of chemotherapy under my belt followed by a twice daily regimen of heavy steroids, immune suppressant drugs, blood pressure medicine, antibiotics and multiple other less infamous drugs for at least the next several years, I am ready to forget this year. On the up side, the illness that got me there is not progressing at least. I can always find a silver lining because, as all my friends can tell you, I am an optimist. A cheerful, head in the clouds optimist.

So, I'm just going to return with a simple list- some rants, some unsolicited advice, some observation. Please be assured that I will shortly deliver my third and final installment in my series about why boys are stinky and worthless until they're 30 or so. But for now, this is what you get:

1. There is person of indeterminate gender working in my building. I really can't tell if it is dude or lady and it doesn't matter. In fact, I am a little fascinated by him/her. Why? Because we look a lot alike- same haircut, same build (my man boobs are a little smaller than his/hers), same glasses and same general manner of dress. He/she favors more brightly colored shirts and ties, but over all, we could be brother and sister/brother. Tell me, and be honest, is it hard to tell what gender I am because now I'm a little paranoid?

2. Advice to parents who have friends who are not parents- shut the hell up about your kids and your family activities when talking to your non-parent friends at least long enough to ask us how we are. That's the minimum you have to contribute to at least acknowledge that you are not just talking to a smiling, life size cutout of your childless friends. Yes, I adore your children and really do want to know what is going on with them. BUT, if 15 minutes pass and you observe that I have been only saying "Wow" or "Oh that's neat" or "Really?", then you better throw me a bone. Just saying.

3. I have so many needle marks on my hands and arms at this point that I look like a heroin junkie. If I must suffer this way, can't I at least have the gift of looking thin like a real junkie?

4. I hate it when people talk about me when I'm not around. No I don't hate that. I hate it when people say something cute like "Was your nose itching Saturday night because we were talking all about you?" I don't even hate that so much. What I really hate is when I ask them what was said and they say shit like "Oh nothing" or "All good things." Be specific, motherf*cker. Be specific or I will cut out your tongue in your sleep. See how much I hate that?

5. Related to #4 above, how boring is that conversation ? Snore. I haven't caused a good scandal in at least 20 years. I am an IT systems analyst and project manager. I live in the suburbs with my husband and two dogs. I make quilts. Jesus. I really should liven it up a little.

A Response to A Gentle Reader

2011-04-05T19:48:00.001-05:00

In response to my post about bullying, my gentle reader (Sorry, Miss Manners. If you've got that trade marked, I"ll lay off ) Everett gave the following comment that I wanted to address here:

This is preceded by praise, praise, praise for my blog which I LOVE. I love praise. Thank you.
...the thing that was a little unsettling about this blog (and many others), is that it seems as if you are saying that it is normal, and that it's sort of a "passage" if you are not the popular person, to get picked on. You advise to avoid the situation, and if one were to arise, to get away as fast as possible. Now of course the best advice anyone could give, is to try and avoid it.... however, I don't believe that we (GLBT, black, handicapped, fat, pink-haired, WHATEVER) should just escape the situation... that does not solve anything.

While I like to encourage people to stand up for themselves, I would NEVER tell anyone to put themselves into a situation that could make things worse. But there are ways of stopping it. Find what works best for you and the situation, and go forth. Don't ever allow for someone to bully you, and don't think it's something that you have to just "deal with". It's not alright. You don't have to put up with it. Just find a healthy alternative to make it stop...
...followed by praise, praise, praise for my blog. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but some praise followed.

Gentle Everett-

I agree with you that young people should find ways of trying to stop bullying, if those means are available. And, by all means, kids should seek out adults to help them or develop a blisteringly sharp repertoire of comebacks that will verbally knock the shit out of their victimizers. However, I think back to my experience and as a kid, I just didn't see any options at all, so avoidance was it. Why didn't I see any options?
1. I didn't feel close enough to my parents to tell them. That, and my dad would have thought I was a giant puss, more than he already did.
2. I thought that if I told a teacher or another adult, they would have told my parents and my dad, blah, blah, blah.
3. I was struggling so much to try to feel cool, that I didn't also want to be known as a tattle tale, which would have decreased my cool points by a gazillion.

Your other point about being bullied as a "passage" is interesting. I don't think that bullying is an inevitable "deal with it" part of being young and geeky, nerdy, gay, etc., though I do think someone is always at the bottom of the pile. What I do think is inevitable is assholism. (Thank you John Waters and Pink Flamingos for letting me use that oh so appropriate term.) You can report bullies and you might be able to curb their behavior, but assholism is forever. In my thinking, once a mean spirited asshole, always a mean spirited asshole. So, is it worth it to stick around in a small town after graduation where you are going to perpetually run into these assholes? Maybe, if you can ignore them, it might be. However, I think it is a valuable experience to go out somewhere in the world where you arrive with no labels or titles and see how the world treats you. Then, if you want to go back to your small town with some years of perspective, that's great. By then the assholes, though still assholes, will just look pathetic.

Keep the comments and thoughts coming.

Mystery Solved

2011-03-31T17:51:00.002-05:00

I have some Facebook "friends" who are only there because they are in my Vampire Wars clan. I can actually dump them if I want and still maintain my clan numbers, but they are occasionally entertaining.
Today for instance, one of them takes on life's greatest mysteries and gets what I think my actually be a solid answer. You decide.

The Games MNMom Plays

2011-03-23T22:25:00.002-05:00

MNMom has initiated one of these things. Is it a meme? I never really knew what that was, even when they were popular. Here it is:

1. Name one book that has really stuck with you.
To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf. I love Virginia Woolf and the sort of warm soulful, sorrowful way her worlds shift focus. The reason this stuck with me is that it is the first book that brought me to tears. I was reading a section of the book called Time Passes and came across this sentence- "Mr. Ramsay, stumbling along a passage one dark morning, stretched his arms out, but Mrs. Ramsay having died rather suddenly the night before, his arms, though stretched out, remained empty." In the context of the book it was such a simple and beautiful image. I cried for about a half hour.

2. Name one non-family adult who influenced you for the better.
A high school teacher, Mrs. Friest, was always so sweet with me and had a great sense of humor. I credit her with saving my life at a really low point. She was also just a kick ass teacher.

3. Name one really great thing about today's teens.
I love that most teenagers I know are not obsessed with serious relationships like teens were when I was younger. They seem to have real boy-girl friendships which has to bode well for their future relationships.

4. If Barack Obama dropped out of the race today, who should be the Democratic nominee?
There are days I wish he would. I still think Hillary would rock the White House.
5. What would YOU do about Libya?
Give their fugly ass leader a makeover.

6. The perfect Spring Vacation would be:
Mexico, beach, kindle, frozen limonada.

7. You win $50,000 to spend on your house. What do you do?
Remodel our 1950's bathroom sensibly then pay down the mortgage.

8. You win another $50,000 but you have to give it away. What do you do?
Kirelimel gave it to MNMom, so I'm going to donate it to Habitat for Humanity in El Salvador. One habitat house down there is $7000. So this would buy 7 houses and some beer for the workers.

9. Your worst guilty pleasure(s) is:
RuPaul's Drag Race.

10. You HAVE to go back to school. What do you study/earn?
Geez. I've debated going back for years, but have no idea what I want to do. I don't have a ton of respect for the MBA, but would probably get one with an emphasis on information systems BOOOORING.

Yes, Vagina, I Will Blog Again

2011-02-26T09:12:00.000-06:00

Okay, MNMom, I had to put this out here to let you know I haven't completely forgotten about my poor blog. I've been busy, okay?

One big change in my life recently is that I joined a fitness class at the gym that is 3 evenings a week. As depressing as it is to realize that not only am I fat, but that the only way I can get to the gym is to pay big bucks for a 3 month long class on top of my membership fees, I do see the benefits in doing that as opposed to sitting in front of my computer blogging. And the only thing that keeps me going to class is the SHAME I would feel at wasting the money I put up for the class. Will I ever reach the point that I just plain WANT to go to the gym? Sadly probably not. On the up side, I've lost about 12 lbs and am not huffing and puffing when I go up the stairs at home. That was just plain embarrassing. Ideally, I would like to lose more weight, but I'm trying to reframe my thinking about fitness and focus on what I've accomplished instead of what I haven't accomplished. I'm veering off into Oprah territory here, so I'll shut up.

The other thing I've been up to is A LOT of family history stuff. I've been doing it for about 10 years, but have been going full tilt on it for about the last six months. Many of my ancestors settled in a small area of NE Iowa and SE Minnesota. It has been fascinating to see how many times two or three families could intermarry. One man marrying two sisters after one had died. One woman marrying a man from one side of the family then marrying a man from the other side of the family. My great great grandfather married my great grand mother's sister in law (her husband's - my great grandfather- sister)- making her step daughter and sister in law. It's kind of fun. So far we haven't had any sibling marriages or anything that would produce a pinhead, but we've come close I'm sure with that tiny gene pool.

Enough for now. I will finish my series on stinky, worthless boys soon.

My Big Sweet Balls

2010-12-11T12:44:00.001-06:00

Several of the lovelies from our MN blogger cookie exchange have expressed how much they enjoyed the taste of my balls. So, here is the recipe:

Michael's Big Sweet Balls

(You can call them Cherry Date Balls, if you like.)

1/2 c. butter
1 1/2 c. chopped dates
1/3 c. chopped maraschino cherries
3/4 c. sugar
5 c. Rice Krispies
1/2 c. chopped pecans

Put butter, dates, cherries and sugar into a medium sauce pan. Cook over medium heat. Stir constantly once the mixture starts bubbling and stir until it looks like a very soft paste. (If you've made caramel corn before, you'll know the look.)
In a large bowl, combine the Rice Krispies and pecans. Use a spatula to pour the hot mixture over the nuts and Krispies. Stir until all the Krispies and nuts are well covered.
Then, pour some sugar in a soup bowl. Take a tablespoon and scoop out some of the mixture, roll into a ball (it helps if you have a little butter on your hands or spray them with Pam or even water), then roll in sugar. Set balls aside to cool.

I Embark On a New Career: Advice Columnist

2010-12-05T10:29:00.003-06:00

In response to my last post, I got an inquiry from a high school student about how to deal with a "situation" involving a girl. I think it worthy to answer this as a separate post. Youngsters, if you have any inquiries yourself, please post them in the comments or e-mail me (ask and I shall provide my e-mail.)

Disclaimer: I am not a licensed therapist, social worker, psychiatrist. My advice is take it or leave it in nature. I am a middle aged chubby gay man with no particular credentials except a lifetime of observation and failed relationships before the one I'm in now which has been almost 12 years. I may be crass and cranky in my responses, but I am right. Don't forget it. Okay then.

Dear Tower of Knowledge: (okay, I added that myself, but it's my blog.)

My best friend is a girl and I have told her all these things many, many times. She recently got over this one guy who myself, and many other friends have told her seems like an "ass-hole." However, she doesn't seem to listen. She also constantly "falls in love" with guys and gets rejected, then I pick up the mess.

So, any advise that might get me to change her mind about this guy.
P.S. We're in High School. She's a little crazy. Not in a bad way.

Sincerely yours-
Chris

Dearest Chris-

You are a great friend to have been honest with this girl about the state of her past boyfriend's assholism (not an official diagnosis, but should be). You are also a great friend to, as you say, "pick up the mess"- and by "mess" I may be thinking your girl friend, but don't tell her that.

So here's some thoughts:

1. Your friend may be a world class drama queen. This is not a bad thing in high school because these girls will occasionally do some crazy-fun-make-memories-for-a-lifetime-shit. It just isn't a lifestyle choice that one should stick with beyond high school. After high school, this behavior gets prescribed medication or gets one in to a sorority, both of which should be avoided. So the deal may be that she picks guys who are going to reject her, so that she can bask in the excitement of her drama around the rejection- all the while looking sad and dejected but secretly loving it. She's a great actress I'm guessing.

She also probably LOVES the attention that you give her while cleaning up the emotional mess. As her friend, you don't always have to pick up the mess (her). Instead, you can tell her that you observe this pattern of behavior, that you're spending a lot of time supporting her and that you would have a lot more fun together if she just put dating boys on hold so you can enjoy life before you have to go out and get jobs and pay bills and reproduce and be tied to children for the rest of your lives. (Yes, adulthood has its drawbacks.) Being a drama queen, she will probably make a scene, but you've said your piece. Then, the next time she comes to you after being rejected, all you need to say is "Hey, Chickiebawana, we've talked about this. Now, do you want to go have some fun doing something else?" If she says "No, I'm too sad," go have fun without her. She will eventually follow along.

2. It could be that your friend is filling a hole in her life. Her life, I said. She may be getting that hole filled too, but we're not going there. Who knows what goes on in people's homes? I used to compare myself constantly to kids that I thought had a way better life than my own, only to find out in adulthood that they had alcoholic, rejecting parents who looked good on the surface but were miserable turds as parents. So, that's a long way of saying that she might be trying to date these boys to play the role of an absentee father or something. If this is the case, she needs to find a healthier alternative. First she needs to recognize the problem, then figure out a way to get the hole filled (hee hee. I can't even say it without laughing) in a healthier way than getting rejected constantly. Can she see that getting rejected by boys might be similar to getting rejected by her dad?
So, again, it is way more important to have fun now while you are both young. Why all the seriousness about relationships when you're under 25? Blech.

Now, on a more serious note- you said that you and several of her other friends told her the boy she was dating had assholism. This girl may need to be observed closely in her dating relationships. If she is pining over an asshole who rejected her, odds are she would have stayed with that asshole through even worse behavior on his part. So, here is what I'm going to say and you MUST take it seriously. If you ever hear that a boy she's dating has hit her (even once), been sexually abusive with her (gone too far when she said no) or even has been loudly verbally abusive with her, you go right to her parents, a school guidance counselor, your pastor, a trusted teacher and you SPILL ALL THE BEANS TO THEM ABOUT THIS BEHAVIOR! No questions. That shit can't happen to anyone and if you stand by while she gets knocked around, raped or emotionally tortured, you are as guilty is the abuser. I say this because it sounds like your friend has a little low self esteem and wouldn't know for herself when enough is enough.

There you have it, Chris. Thanks for listening.

Yours truly-
Tower of Knowledge

The Truth About Boys: Part II

2010-11-26T11:54:00.002-06:00

In Chapter I, we covered some truths about boys. In Chapter II, I will tell you some dos and don'ts about the dating world. Ready? Let's begin.

DO: keep yourself open to finding romantic love, but...

DON'T: be desperate and lonely and print it on a t-shirt or post it to Facebook every fourth minute that you're looking for a boyfriend. For one thing, you are too young to think that you're going to be alone forever and for another, you will make yourself prey for freaks and stalkers and abusers by being desperate for anyone.

DO: keep a close circle of friends. If you don't have a good circle of friends, make friends first before you think about dating seriously.  It doesn't have to be 20 friends, maybe just 2-3 really good friends. Why? Because, if you start dating seriously and don't have friends, that is all you'll have.

DON'T: have your boyfriend be your only friend. Isolation in a relationship is a bad thing. If he is a creep, there is no one around to tell you and if you are in that position, you likely aren't socially astute enough to figure it out for yourself. And, if it ends- which if you're 25 or under is likely- you'll have no friends to fall back on.

DO: listen to your friends when it comes to boys. If these are good friends, they will be your first warning sign that a boy is a creep.

DON'T: keep friends who aggressively flirt with or try to steal your boyfriend. These girls are called skanks and have personal issues that need some work. You are not their therapist and do not need to keep them around if they won't back off. These women will grow up to be divorced, bar hopping, cigarette smoking cougars by the time they hit 40. It is so not worth your time. Worse yet, if you are the one who is stealing your friends' boyfriends, then you are a skank. Seek therapy. Now.

DO: respect yourself. If a boy says things that hurt your feelings, belittle you, make you feel stupid, confront it right now. Everyone makes mistakes and it is likely that the boy didn't know that he hurt your feelings or made you feel bad. So, forgive. But...

DON'T: allow a boy to consistently make you feel less than the great, valuable, smart, beautiful girl that you are. A pattern of this behavior cannot be fixed without years of adult therapy and maybe not even then.  A boy who tries to control and diminish you through verbal or physical abuse is a mess and a creep and will likely be one forever. This behavior in boys does is also unlikely to make them successful adults at work or in other relationships. This will fuel further resentment, leading to worse behavior and plunge them even further in to the depths of asshole-ism. Dump these boys fast.

DO: respect your body. Every young person wants sex as much as the next. However, you, young lady, have much, much, much more to lose when you become sexual. I'm not preaching abstinence here. I'm saying, be smart, know yourself and be cautious.   As I mentioned in Chapter 1, if you put out, expect boys to talk about it. That might be okay, however, if you put out a lot with more than one boy, you will quickly get a very hurtful reputation that is unfair and ugly and may take years to overcome. It is a hideous double standard that girls get called awful names for being sexual while boys are congratulated for it, but it is just plain fact. In this culture, girls just don't get to be as sexually open as boys, or at least as vocal about it. Your mother might have told you that boys don't like loose girls. Well, that's wrong. Boys LOVE loose girls. But, they don't love them in the way that you want to be loved. Be smart. Be kind to yourself.

DON'T: EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER let a boy take a nude picture of you. EVER! DO YOU HEAR ME??!!??   I don't care how much you trust him. I don't care how hot you think it is. A single nude picture WILL come back to haunt you whether it is next weekend or five years from now. DON'T BE STUPID! Worse yet, DON'T EVER take a nude picture of yourself and e-mail it to a boy unless you want the entire campus to see it. That is just plain foolish and desperate. If you have done this and it is too late, change your name and move to another country.

DO: Be patient. Enjoy yourself now. A romantic relationship isn't the fix for anything. It will come. If you have fun now, focus on building lasting friendships, taking care of your mind, body, studies, career, there will one day be an equally stable, confident, successful, interesting boy that will look at you and say "Damn. Check out that stable, confident, successful, interesting, sexy chick. I want to hang with her for the rest of my life." It will happen for you- maybe not tomorrow, but eventrually.

That's enough for now. In Chapter III, we will discuss why you need to observe a boy in the world before you get too involved.

The Truth About Boys: Part I

2010-11-21T12:01:00.002-06:00

Some of you have daughters to whom I've given my advice about dating boys in high school and college. The very abridged version is this:

Boys are smelly and worthless until they turn 30 or so. It is true. Don't argue with me. I know what I'm talking about.

So, in the interest of public service, here is Chapter 1 of the much less abridged version of my standard talk to young women:

The Truth About Boys: Chapter 1
When it comes to boys, I know a thing or two. What makes me qualified to talk to you about boys? Here's the top three:

1. Having been one myself, I can speak from some experience. I won't always admit to having exhibited the less charming behaviors shared with those of my youthful sub-species, but I can certainly relate.

2. I have always had lots of women friends and have observed through their relationship starts and stops the amusing, sickening, endearing and occasionally creepy and dangerous behavior of young men.

3. I am gay and in my youth dated / mated with other young men and was the young man other young (and not so young) men have dated.

So, with my qualifications out of the way, let's move on to boy truths:

Boy Truth #1: Boys smell. I wish this weren't true, but it is. Around age 13 when the puberty hormones start surging through a boy's body, the B.O. switch also gets flipped. Sadly, because boys go through puberty at a much slower rate than girls, boys will naturally stink well into their college years. (Secret: Boys of all ages LOVE the smell of their own B.O. and when really pitted out will take deep whiffs of their pits. They don't like the B.O. of others, but relish in their own funk.)

Boy Truth #2: Boys don't understand personal hygiene. This is the related truth to "boys smell." The only reason that boys get engaged in personal hygiene is that their mom or female classmates clue them in to the fact that they stink. So, they begrudgingly sign on to wearing deodorant under their arms and showering more than twice a week. Eventually, around age 25, it does occur to them that wooing the young ladies is easier when clean. So, girls, DO NOT SETTLE FOR SMELLY BOYS. Demand showering, use of hygiene products, clean hair, clean fingernails, etc.

Boy Truth #3: Boys are sensitive creatures and easily hurt. Even though they have been trained by society to hide their emotions, boys have them. They also experience them with the same crazy ass intensity that girls do. You just might not see them and the boys, depending on how deeply they've been conditioned to believe that masculine mystique, may not even know they are having them. This is why boys sometimes act like complete dildos in situations where girls might slam a door or have a cry fest or eat chocolate. So, girls, be nice to boys, but within limits. We'll talk more about that in a later chapter.

Boy Truth #4: When boys are hooked on you, they are hooked. Hard. The attachment boys feel to girls (or other boys they date) can be even more deep than what girls feel for boys. Why? Boys typically have fewer outlets for their emotions that girls. Once a boy feels safe enough with you to honestly share his feelings and let down his guard, you may be stuck with him for a while. Boys also confuse this safety, typically found in deep friendship of all types, with love. Unfortunately, boys can also associate this safe feeling with a mommy sort of love. Uh uh. Don't let it go there. Boys need lots of time to mature and figure out how to be equal partners with girls without making them their mommy or their whore. (More on that later too.) So, girls, be friends with guys, but don't get caught up in the notion that you will find your one true love in high school. Boys aren't ready. But if you must go down the path of dating a boy, know what you're in for and be ready for all that comes with a hooked, love struck boy. This doesn't mean you need to put up with any shit. And as I said before, we'll talk more about that later.

Boy Truth #5: Boys are 100% obsessed with sex. I am not exaggerating here one bit. From the time they realize around age 13 that touching themselves feels good and an orgasm is this out of this world (and messy) experience, boys think about very little but sex. And, it is unlikely that they will outgrow this. It is just that as men age there are a few other things to distract them from thinking about sex all the time- work, driving, mowing the lawn. But these are only distractions. And, girls, you have to be careful with the young man. EVERYTHING from age 13 to about 25 will give a boy an erection- holding his hand, sitting next to him, putting your arm around his shoulder, EVERYTHING. So, if a boy gets up awkwardly or covers up his front with his jacket, just try to ignore it. He's got a woodie and he can't help it.

Boy Truth #6: Boys cannot be trusted with sex. In my adulthood, I cannot be trusted around a bag of chocolate chips. Curt can hide them, but I will find them and eat them every time, but I do it in shame. This is sort of like boys and sex. Given the opportunity, boys will do or say anything to have sex. They will even pretend to be in love with you. However, the difference between the chocolate chips and sex comparison is that boys will ALWAYS admit to having had sex, whereas I will lie about having eaten the whole bag of chips. Yes, girls, even if you think you can trust a boy to be discreet about your sexual experimentation, HE WILL TELL EVERY OTHER BOY HE COMES IN CONTACT WITH and you will get funny, horny looks from all these boys for about the next year. Even worse, he will exaggerate wildly. If you let a boy touch your breasts, he will tell his friends you had a threesome with you and your mom, who is a complete cougar. It's true. They are pigs about this stuff. If you choose to put out in any way, it is not unreasonable to threaten to cut the boy's balls off if he tells his friends. However, he has to believe you in order for this to be effective. Show him the knife you intend to use. That will help.

Enough for now.

Coming up in Chapter 2 of the Truth About Boys.... Dos and Don'ts for Dating Boys

Here's a Little Advice

2010-10-18T19:19:00.004-05:00

There has been a lot of talk about bullying in high schools recently. I can relate. When I was in middle school and high school, it was like I had a big pink target on my forehead and virtually EVERYONE knew I was gay and tormented me for it. The problem was that I was still working on trying to be the swinging straight boy. I was self aware enough to know that I was "in a phase" that I might or might not outgrow. I tried to take comfort in the fact that I read in a book somewhere that lots of boys go through that phase and don't turn out gay. Well, that didn't work out.
Not everyone tormented me, of course. There were the fat kids who got picked on as much as I did. There were other sort of awkward, strange kids who got picked on. And, if I was lucky, there might be a kid who was a little gayer than I was who could avert attention away from my big homo self. Even with the other targets around, the assholes who tormented me seemed to have plenty to go around. It was a miserable time.
With the benefit of 25 years under my belt away from high school, I want to share some advice and survival tips for anyone who might be able to relate.

1. Popular and not popular ends the day you graduate. When you go to college or into the working world, your high school social status doesn't matter for squat. The once popular girls (we'll talk more about them later) join sororities with the other formerly popular girls and fight among themselves for queen bee status and boyfriends. They will not have time to notice you. Once popular boys join fraternities, if they make it to college at all, and compete for the titles of "He Who Gets Laid Most" and "He Who Can Drink Most." Guys like you and me, we arrive at college among people who have no knowledge of our high school social standing and are more interested in us if we're fun to hang out with, share the same values or do the same things. I remember being amazed my freshman year at Luther with the fact that people kind of wanted to spend time with me- for a while anyway, but that's for another number in this list. Once you make like minded friends, you'll begin to forget being stuffed in lockers and getting swirlies.

2. On the subject of popular girls, there are generally two types. One type is popular because she is outgoing and friendly to just about everyone. She will cross social strata to a degree. If you are nice to her, say hi and smile, she will acknowledge you as a human being. If you happen to figure out if she is in any activities that interest you, it is worth sitting on the yearbook committee or science club, because she may get to know you and have your back when it counts. They other type of popular girl is the opposite. She may be pretty, or not, but she is a hag. She achieved her rank through cruelty to other girls and intimidation to keep all those beneath her in their place. Beneath the wickedness, she is full of insecurities and secretly hates herself. All those who cling to her as friends are self loathing morons. Fully half of these girls will end up bitter and in trailer parks. Okay, there is no statistic supporting that, but I think it is probably true. Anyway, here's a tip, don't give this mean chick any information about you. Smile and say hi with indifference and that's it. If she tries to talk to you, say you're late for something- a waxing maybe- and walk away. If she gets you to be even slightly vulnerable, she will turn on you and use what ever tidbit you've given her against you. Keep in mind, this girl is miserable and likes everyone else to be miserable.

3. Virtually the same goes for popular boys as popular girls. The nice popular boy is handsome, outgoing and genuinely kind. If he sees you getting beat up, he will actually think about stopping it, but likely won't do anything about it. He may make a gesture later by making small talk with you when no one else is looking. It's just a gesture, but take it. Be cool. He doesn't want to hang with you, but is just acknowledging that he knows you're a human. The mean popular boys are the same as the mean popular girls but with a penis. They typically aren't as cunning as the girls, but high school boys aren't terribly bright generally. If they give you crap, try not to get in to a verbal sparring match with them. You will always win, but they won't care and will still beat the crap out of you. Avoid provoking them if you can. They too will end up miserable. I also guarantee that they will look like hell at the 20th class reunion. Hell. No really. I promise.

4. Stay focused on things that make you happy and connect you with other people. This doesn't mean spending every waking moment playing video games with your one friend or painting your nails black and being morose while listening to depressing music. Goth is so over done. You will have to actually work at this, especially if you are a bit of an introvert. Find something to do outside of school with other people. Volunteer for something at church or at the animal shelter or stuffing envelopes or raking yards for old people. Most of all, practice being friendly, opening your mouth to say something and listening to people. Half the battle of overcoming being shy and awkward is to shut down the voice in your head and listening to people. If it takes you a second to collect your next response, tough. It is called a pause. Conversations have them. Connect with people. Practice. You'll have fun and build up your confidence.

5. If you choose not to go to college but instead work, leave town. Hell, leave town if you go to college, too. This one is simple. If you are in a small town, go to a bigger town. If you are in a large city, go to another neighborhood. Why? Because the miserable, mean "popular" kids who aren't smart enough to get into college or get pregnant and marry are going to stay in town with you and will be assholes for the rest of their lives. Leave. Town. As. Soon. As. You. Graduate.

6. Don't do what I did. How's that for advice? I was shy and afraid and miserable. Instead of following the advice in #4 above, I started drinking and doing drugs excessively. Lighting up once in a blue moon may not be a bad thing for you, but don't make your life's goal one of being zoned out all the time. I did this from early high school until I was 21 and it took me years to grow up and left me without a lot of enduring friendships from my youth. Just trust me. It is so not worth the money.

7. Adults are okay. If you have reasonably cool parents who are interested in your day, tell them about your day. Let's be clear, your parents will always probably be a little uncool because that's how parents should be. It is a warning sign if you have really cool parents because that might mean they have no boundaries. (A mom who wants to pole dance for your friends? Bad sign.) But, if you have reasonably cool parents, let them be there for you. If you're getting shit at school, tell them. They will probably freak out and try to fix things, but tell them that for now you just want them to listen to you about it. Don't let your dad go over to your tormentor's home to kick the shit out of your tormentor's father until the day before graduation if he must. If you don't want to tell your parents, find a cool teacher. Really. You can probably find one in the English department- maybe a creative writing or speech teacher, or your band director. Ask if you can talk and just have them listen. Adults will help. I had two teachers that I could talk to a little. One I think saved my life at a particularly low point. Thanks, Mrs. Friest.

8. Always be your best self, even when it is hard. That is so difficult to do, but if you start practicing it won't be so hard later in life. Be kind. Just because other people might be mean to you, doesn't make it okay for you to pick on the rung lower than you if there is one. Be friendly. This is hard, but more people will have your back if you are pleasant to be around. You don't have to be giddy and effusive. Just be cool. Be compassionate. Usually there is a reason that other kids are jerks. You don't have to analyze them or approve of their behavior, but if the day comes when the mean popular girl falls on her ass and smacks her head on the icy sidewalk, give her a hand. Laugh inside. Laugh really really really hard inside but give her a hand. She might not take it, but at least you've had a good laugh and made the gesture.

9. It does get better. Yup. Lots and lots of people have been saying this lately. They are saying it because it is true. Once you graduate from high school, that whole mess is behind you. There is a whole world of people out there who will think you are fun, interesting and worth spending time with. It will happen for you, no matter how awkward and odd you are. It will happen even if you are the mentally challenged twin in the set who gets a 3.85 grade point average, unlike her sister who gets a 4.0. And I'm not referencing anyone here in particular, ~~Jean~~. Really, I'm not. ;o)

Cranberry Festival- The Sequel

2010-10-04T19:50:00.000-05:00

Oh boy, oh boy! It's time for another review of the Cranberry Festival Parade! This past weekend the tiny village of Stone Lake, WI held it's annual Cranberry Festival. It was a brisk autumn day but about 25,000 crowded- and I mean crowded- into all 10 or 12 city blocks of Stone Lake. Why? Because it is FUN!

Here are Curt and our guest Marina eagerly awaiting the parade. Some of the parade pics are out of order, but I didn't want to reorder them by cutting and pasting HTML. And will you know the difference? Probably not.

Here is Grand Marshall Tuddie Gillette enthusiastically accepting a pair of crocheted panties from one of her adoring fans. If you don't know who Tuddie Gillette is and what she has done for the town of Stone Lake, join the club. She looked like she might still be fun at a party.

Okay, these are the Senior Center King and Queen. Anything odd about this picture? What struck me as odd is that the king and queen hardly look old enough to be committed to a senior center. Maybe they've reached the end of their usefulness on the family cranberry farm. Maybe they are loony as all get out. Maybe their children just didn't want them around to burden them when the actually got old and dumped them at the senior center. In any case, sad.

These little tykes must have gotten my notes from last year's critique. They were smiling and waving a lot compared to last year's little duds who looked utterly miserable. The little gal in front saw me and was trying to give me a jazz hand. Needs some work, but she'll get there.

What happened to the little cars? The Shriners now drive scooters in an exciting choreographed ballet. I personally liked the little cars. However, with America's obesity epidemic, I suspect today's Shriners no longer fit in the little cars. Did I ever tell you that I had a former co-worker who grew up in Hayward, let's call her Pamy Phrancis, who stole a Shriner clown car and crashed it into a tree when she was in high school? She's a folk hero to me.

Okay, this queen got her picture in my blog for two reasons. First, this is just a nice well balanced picture- great colors, action shot, nice. Second, she was the ONLY queen in the whole parade in a dress who waved and smiled like a queen should wave and smile. A+ to her.

This dude was in marching band and trying to be all bad ass with his mohawk. You're still in band. Low rung. Sorry dude.

Here are two little campaigners for Sean Duffy for Congress. He's a Republican. These little girls were indoctrinated early into the cult. The one driving wants to grow up to marry a rich attorney with a narcissistic personality disorder in hopes that she will one day be a Senator's wife. The passenger is just hoping she can repress her lesbian tendencies convincingly enough to rise through Republican pundit ranks to become the next Ann Coulter. Tragic.

Look who showed up with The Singing Cranberries- my gal Mary Catherine Gallagher. I worshipped her.

Here is that creepy closeted scout master marching behind his little troop of gay haters. Methinks... blah blah blah. At least ditch the dusty rose neckerchief. It gives me the willies.

Seig Heil! Seig Heil! These sad queens were doing the synchronized seig heil wave. They clearly did not get my notes from last year. STOP THE SYNCHRONIZED WAVING ALREADY! No one likes it. I want to know what old 1940's washed up beauty queen is still teaching this shit. Maybe we should put HER in the Stone Lake Senior Center a bit early.

I was momentarily distracted by a cute dad across the street. Okay, if every moment between floats counts as momentarily, then yes, I was momentarily distracted.

Last year these ladies were dressed up as Pink Ladies. This year they were cross dressing as Danny Zuko. I'm still convinced there is a fair amount of weed consumption going on here.

I like the percussion section of marching bands. We were treated to 5 marching bands- 3 high school and 2 middle school. One middle school band was from a Catholic school and was playing a hymn. Disqualified. Only one of the high school bands was properly dressed. See above. This boy is thinking "Could I get laid if I wasn't in band?" You'll never know, young man. You'll never know.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
No one, especially an emotionally fragile 17 year old boy should EVER be cajoled into wearing a white one piece jumper in public. I don't care that he gets the great authority that comes with being the drum major. He will never live this down, at least in my mind. He may be over it, but I, gentle readers, will never be.

My favorite part of the parade. I wanted to smooch him.

Falling Farther In

2010-10-01T11:36:00.000-05:00

I miss my parents today. I miss them every day, but the last few weeks have had an unusual amount of longing for them. It could be that they have appeared in my dreams in various roles, as have other departed friends and family. It could just be the autumn. According pagan religious traditions, in the autumn the veil between this world and the after world (death?) becomes thinner. One might be able to more clearly "hear" the words of departed loved ones, catch glimpses of dear spirits in our periphery, talk to God or the gods, as the case may be. Maybe that is why I am missing them- because I can catch something of their essence near me but can't be with them.
Logically it all makes sense that a religious tradition that is based on the rhythms of the earth would have such beliefs. Look around. The bounty of summer is coming to a close. The killing frost will turn the flowers and leaves of our annual garden plants black. Perennial garden plants die back to the ground saving energy in their roots. Deciduous trees begin to drop their leaves in preparation for the long sleep. The veil thins to allow easy passage around the circle into death. This circle, the cycle in and out of life, into death and back into life, is what I rely on to get me through winter. Like the trees, my mind sort of goes to sleep in a seasonal depression every year. I just need to trust that the spring will come.
For a person who is not religious, I spend a fair amount of time pondering religion and the spirit. I steer clear of religion because of the divisiveness of it all. My god is better than your god. My sin is less than your sin. My love is better than your love. My celestial underpants (Mormon- for real) are better than your big granny underpants (Lutheran)... and so on. So many heinous behaviors are done wrapped in the cloak of religion. Yet, according to what I understand of religion, the god they claim to follow would/should be horrified by what is done in his/her name.
I think it is fine if people choose to be religious. Most people long to be a part of a community of like minded people. We just do. Social is survival. Its a part of what makes our species successful. But I question why these communities have to be separate and superior to one another based on ideology that is often more debatable nuance than actual difference in core belief. It's that kind of thinking that drives me away, but often leaves me just slightly outside of having a strong sense of community in my life.
That is not to say that I feel alone. Far from it. I have family and friends aplenty. I have a strong sense and belief that we are all connected by something. By what I'm not completely sure, but for me there is an undeniable connection between all living things. I feel it in my body. I can stand in a sea of people and feel it- a shared common humanness. I can look into the eyes of my dogs and see it. I can nurture a plant from spring to fall and sense that the energy and care I put into helping that plant thrive has bonded me to it in some way based on the exchange of care. I give the plant care. It blooms and surrounds me with beauty. I don't think that connection is god with a capital G necessarily. I'm not sure. But, I do think that at the very minimum we are bound together by a collective will to first survive. Plants that are sick will still shoot up a few leaves in an effort to heal. The human brain in it's most lizard like simplicity will keep the heart beating and lungs breathing while other failing organs send out poison to bring an end to the body.
At the beginning of last month, a former friend of mine killed herself after struggling many years with depression. We had a falling out many years ago and I only learned of her death through a mutual but distant friend. Strangely, even though we hadn't communicated or laid eyes on one another in over 10 years, her suicide has haunted me a bit since then. I'm sad for her. I'm angry at her. I'm have compassion for her. I think what she did was cruel to her partner. Suicide is just so taboo. It challenges our sense of the basic level of our connectedness- the instinct to survive. I think that is part of what makes the act seem so violent, so uncomfortable, so confusing, so infuriating. I saw my mother fight with all her being to rid her body of leukemia, to extend her life. I've seen many friends with AIDS fight until their bodies gave out. So this business of choosing one's out is deeply complex for me- a moment of grave illness of another sort, another kind of "giving out" perhaps?
Maybe my former friend will come to me in a dream, forgiven and forgiving, and explain this to me. Maybe she will come and tell me that I have to figure this out myself, or that it is none of my damn business. Not knowing her, or particularly liking her, for 10+ years sort of puts it in to that realm a bit doesn't it? In the mean time, I'll accept the slide into darkness that happens every year, experience the comfort of memories of friends that are no longer here, and trust that the sun will come back starting on the winter solstice, that the days will get longer and that I'll get easier to live with starting around March or so.

At the end of a grumpy day..

2010-09-21T22:25:00.001-05:00

... I can always find something else to complain about. Today, it is affected speech carried out by born and bred Midwesterners. No, not speech impediments - lisps, stutters, or southern drawls. These are the affectations one adopts into their speech because you think they are nifty and make you sound smart, cool or worldly. Doing so, however, just makes you annoying to listen to. It is on par with the college sophomore who comes back from studying in England and asks what the American word for "the tube" is. Annoying. So, on with the grumpitude:

Affectation #1:
How do you say the word "false"? If you tell me it sounds like the word "waltz", you're an affected mess. Someone very high up in the organization I work for uses this one all the time and I want to throw a coffee cup at him every time he says it. True? Yes. Faltz? Not so much.

Affectation #2:
What is something that comes before something else? Is it a "prelude"? Perhaps, it is if you pronounce it like something in the neighborhood of "prey-lood". No where in the Midwest do we use the alternate pronunciation of "prell-ewed". Jesus, make it stop.

Affectation #3:
If you are from Bumfudge, Wisconsin and you pronounce the word rather as "rah-ther" or worse "rahth-er" I will smack you if you come within arms reach. Just a warning. Cut it out now.

Affectation #4:
I know Canadians are cute, but in Iowa there isn't a school teacher in the state that taught you to say the letter Z as "zed." Just never happened.

Perhaps one day, I'll blog about something important, but I don't see that coming in the next few weeks. Oh, and one more thing- the name of the town with the Mayo Clinic it Rochester- Rah-chester. Not Rod-chester. And the name of the suburb east of St. Paul is Woodbury- Wood-burry. Not Wood-berry spoken with a sing-song Minnesota accent. Good god, I need some sleep and an attitude adjustment. 'Night all.

Somewhere in Minnetonka...

2010-09-06T14:41:00.006-05:00

...an angry mommy is telling all her friends what an asshole I am. Why? Let me tell you why.

This morning, I'm trying to find a parking spot in the Barnes & Noble / Target parking lot and there were precious few. So, I turned the corner into a new row and see not one but two spots, one each on either side of a mini-van. I see that all four doors are open. On one side is a 12 -13 year old girl assisting a younger sibling in to a car seat. On the other side, the mom is helping another child in to a car seat. No problem, I can wait for that. Shortly, mom is done and hops into the front seat, but doesn't close her door, blocking that side of the van.

Then, 12-13 year old daughter finishes with the car seat business, shuts the back door and proceeds to stand by the front seat where she starts very slowly picking french fries off her seat one by one, and dropping them gingerly into the parking lot. Meanwhile, mom still has her damn door open. So, I make a move to begin pulling in to the parking spot next to the daughter, thinking this might prompt her to pick up the pace or just sweep the fries on to the floor of the van (it was no prize, it could have been done), shut her door and let the nice man in the SUV have his parking spot. Oh no, daughter looks at me, then goes back to slowly picking french fries off her seat.

So, here's where it gets interesting. While the slow french fry picker is trying her damnedest to ignore me, I tap the horn. No, I did not lay on the horn, I tapped it to get the daughter's attention. She looked at me and I gave her a questioning look that communicated nicely "Can I have this spot now?" Well, that didn't go over well with mommy because mommy jumped out of her seat, rushed to my window and screamed "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!!! THERE ARE CHILDREN!!!" I calmly but firmly replied "Well, what is wrong is that you are taking up three parking spots between your van and your open doors and neither you or your daughter appear to be courteous enough to share the two that are not occupied by your van." Mommy then did the dumbest thing I've ever seen. She ran to her daughter's side, put her arm around her and looked at me as if to say "See the injury you've inflicted? Poor child." At this point, I shook my head, rolled my eyes at her and gave a low finger out of her eye sight, and took off to hunt for another parking spot, which I found eventually.

This only fueled my long standing opinion that many parents lose their minds at the first sight of their child wet and squirming from the womb and become over-indulgent nut bags for the next 30 -40 years. This is not all parents, mind you. In fact, most parents that I'm acquainted with would have told the slow french fry plucking daughter to hurry her ass up and get in the car and give the nice man his parking spot.

As someone who has chosen not to have children (it would ruin my hips), I am still able to appreciate and respect the desire of those who want children. I also understand completely that parenting is demanding. And of course I believe the children are our future. La la la. However, there are still a few ground rules for parents to follow around those who are not:
1. Your baby stroller does not have the right of way. It would be nice if you pushed it to the side when you stop to look at something in a store aisle or at the farmer's market.
2. When two mommies meet in an aisle, it is impolite to stop your baby strollers side by side and carry on a conversation lasting more than 4 seconds. You are in the way. Make a play date.
3. If I have covered all your duties at work while you are on maternity leave, you had better consider buying me a big damn gift or, at the VERY least, a nice thank you card with some Dairy Queen gift certificates tucked inside. Don't come back and critique my way of carrying on business in your absence. This makes you an asshole and the object of my scorn.
4. When eating out, don't let your darling little children run all over the restaurant and carry on as if it were your home. I don't care how cute they are. I don't want to see their toys, hear their sing-song rhymes or listen to them fight. I once sat in a restaurant with my friend Ruthie and her then 3 1/2 year old son while we received the most horrible service imaginable. After an hour of waiting for our food, her son was still in his seat, behaving like a gentleman and having a conversation with the adults there. Parents, this should be the standard to which you hold your children.
5. Trying to reason with your darling little one in the throes of a temper tantrum is not going to work and, frankly, looks ridiculous. You would do far better to completely ignore them. It won't make it any easier on me to hear the tantrum, but at least I won't need to listen to the additional nonsense of you reasoning with the unreasonable.
6. My out of work plans are just as important as yours. Don't you dare ever play the parent card when trying to determine who will work late or on a weekend. Your child will have another fecking soccer game. I assure you he will. Just because my plans are "only" dinner with friends I haven't seen is six months, doesn't make your darling child any of my interest or concern. Share the load.
That's enough for now. Can't wait to hear from my mom and dad friends. :O)

There are days...

2010-09-03T11:45:00.002-05:00

...that I don't feel much unlike our friend Judy in this clip- little hands, high forehead and just a little slow.

Uh, Can I Get One In XXL?

2010-09-02T19:44:00.002-05:00

Follow Me. Click on the 2nd picture. Ask yourself "why?'

State Fair Frolicking

2010-09-02T18:37:00.004-05:00

As I was lying in bed last night, I came up with something really interesting and engaging to write about on my blog. It was something that would prove that I really do think about things other than what to eat next and where to go and what fun I want to have. This morning, the thought had vanished. So, instead, I will post pictures of our Minnesota State Fair adventure.

Here is Curt, excited about the prospect of getting hot mini cinnamon rolls with extra cream cheese frosting. They are tasty. Trust me and the twenty pounds of them I have hanging around my waist.

Here is a gratuitous knitting shot for Madame Leiderhosen. This thing was at least 12 feet long. Who has the yarn and the time to do that?

This is a corn beauty contest. It doesn't make much sense to me either. Enough said.

CROP ART!!! We love our crop art in Minnesota. For the uninitiated, we have a whole section devoted to crop art at our state fair. Crop art is images constructed entirely of seeds and grain. To really be good, you need to use only crops that can be grown in a Minnesota growing season. There are other categories, like dyed/painted seeds, but they are less prestigious than the traditional, Minnesota grown seeds. I'm embarrassed to have just written that last sentence.
Crop artists are also known for their sense of humor and/or political (left leaning) politics. The latter might be explained by the fact that most right leaning artists are painting Jesus or sunbeams coming through clouds or other tired images that they've been painting for hundreds of years. Oh, and they have no sense of humor. I said it.
Curt and pal, Marina, in front of the growing crowds. We got to the fair at 8:00 a.m.. By 10:30 it was packed with people grazing from one artery clogging concession stand to the next. Count me in!

Butter heads. This is the under-construction butter head of Princess Kay of the Milky Way. Don't ask, but yes, they are creepy.

Sheep judging. I was assured by Marina and Curt that they weren't being judged on the size of their balls. There were some big ones that could have one a ribbon if I had been judging. How-dee boy. Click on the picture to enlarge and see what I'm talking about.

So what did I eat, you ask?

1. Big Fat Bacon with a chipotle orange sauce.

2. Cinni-Minis with extra cream cheese frosting

3. A huge peach (my favorite)

4. Several bites of Curt's raspberry shake from the dairy building

5. Pork chop on a stick

6. Cotton candy

I could have sworn I showed some restraint this year, but I guess not. Better luck next year.

Friends And A Fair

2010-08-22T19:27:00.004-05:00

This weekend, our lovely friends Carolyn and Jeff ventured north to the cabin from Rochester, MN. They arrived on Thursday evening with a cooler full of goodies- always a plus when the goodies are good. When these two visit, you can always expect some lively conversation and great times.
This weekend, Carolyn and Jeff, conversions-in-progress to Judaism, subjected Curt and I to RITUAL ABUSE!!! Friday night, they got out a polyester table cloth in the same pattern that Dwight and Mamie Eisenhower had in the White House- instant abuse if you ask me- and a nifty little folding candle holder in which they lit two little Sabbath candles that were to remain burning until they disappeared. Then, while I fidgeted uncomfortably and looked longingly at the meal, they proceeded to say their blessings and prayers in a language I didn't understand. I assume it was Hebrew, but it could have been Klingon. When the blessings were FINALLY over- a whole 30 seconds later- we ate a wonderful meal, followed by games. All the while, Curt and I were afraid those little candles- still burning two hours later- would take our house down.
So, here are my suggestions to improve Judaism:
1. Outlaw polyester table cloths. Curt's elbows had floral indents in them after resting his arms on the table cloth during dinner. Gays in particular are sensitive creatures to things like unnatural fibers.
2. Sabbath sparklers. Can the candles. Light sparklers and run around the room while saying your blessings. We could all use a little excitement an distraction, especially when those non-Jews in the room don't know what the hell you're chanting on about.

Just my thoughts. Take them or leave them.

The Sawyer County Fair
Saturday, we ventured to Hayward for the Sawyer County Fair. This is a small fair, befitting of a county that has about 17,000 permanent residents. Visitors to the many lakes in the area during summer probably quadruple the population, but they don't get the federal dollars after the census. So this was it- a midway with about 5 rides, some buildings, a horse ring and an ATV pull track. You heard it right, not a tractor pull, but an ATV pull. I hope that was fun. I didn't see it.

First we stopped at the horse ring, where sensible young girls in helmets (safety first, ladies) rode their horses around traffic cones. This is clearly intended to prepare the pair for construction season in Wisconsin, which seems to be never fecking ending. I'm telling you, it's true.

Next, we ventured to the animal barns. Now, we're getting into my fun zone. I love the animal barns. I like to compliment the animals on their appearance and good behavior. If I'm lucky I can touch the cows and sheep and other little critters. Take a close look at this turkey. I think he is giving me his best bedroom eyes. Misdirected, but thanks, Tom. Your pink and blue ensemble is quite flattering as well.

Next we wandered out to the PETTING ZOO!! OMG! OMG! That's how excited I was about the petting zoo. This one was outstanding. Not only did it have baby farm animals, it had some baby exotic animals like a little zebra, baby antelopes and a lemur. They didn't let you touch the lemur because I suspect there is some risk of them getting a little pissed off and ripping off the eyelids of ill behaved children. So, prepare yourself for an onslaught of cute.

This little fellow is showing me the trick he can do with his tongue. Who needs fingers and the privacy of a car at a stoplight? By the way, I can touch my nose with my tongue, too.

This little fellow was a Brahma calf. His ears were like silky bunny ears. I loved him.

This is a little Scottish Highland calf. His mother was nearby and she was a bit unpleasant. I deduced this from the sign on the pen that said "New Mother: Stay Back 5 Feet." This is really good advice when interacting with new human mothers as well. They can be a little, well, hormonal crazy, if you know what I mean.

This is a baby llama. He was darling. When he gets big, I will ride him around the horse ring through traffic cones. I swear I will.

After two trips to the petting zoo, we wandered through the craft building. Mostly it was crayon drawings by first and second graders, but there were a few quilts, crocheted afghans and flowers. Now, I know there are only 17,000 people in Sawyer County, but, folks, step it up a bit please. The grand prize winner in floral arranging was 6 marigolds stuck in florists foam. Really? Aren't there any gays around to perhaps raise the bar a bit?

Finally, Curt and Jeff went on some rides. Here is one. Look for Curt. He's the one waving at me.

I Love a Small Town Festival

2010-08-15T18:49:00.012-05:00

You know I do.

I also like to add my commentary to the goings-on in hopes that an event organizer will take notes and include a few gays in the planning next year, just to spruce things up a bit. You know how that is. Everything can benefit from a few gays in the planning process.

This weekend's festival was Minong Summer Days in the bustling village of Minong, WI, population 552.

The day started with a $5 pancake and sausage breakfast at the village hall that was to benefit the Northwoods High class of 2011. Wouldn't you know it though that there were only 2 high school students in sight? Instead the class of 2011 let their mothers do all the work. My message to the class of 2011: Get your lazy asses out of bed on a Saturday morning and come to your own damn benefit! Sheesh!
Breakfast was followed by watching the softball and volleyball tournaments until the parade began. I believe all day there were more people leaning over the back of the bleachers than sitting on them. It was odd. Is sitting too much of a commitment?
We also observed several varieties of wildlife. Let me show you:

This coyote puppy was really cute. Okay, he's a 10 week old Pomeranian, but who's paying attention?

Someone left the chickens out and they went wild apparently- wearing pants and drinking beer at 10 a.m.
This young buck was seen wandering through downtown Minong throughout the day. He was being stalked by some old cougars, if you know what I mean.

The Parade
The parade was, well, a bit disappointing. On the plus side, it was short, there were few politicians, there was LOTS of candy throwing and Sasquatch made an appearance. No really, he did. On the down side, there were no marching bands, no "royalty" and festooned ATVs substituted as floats. Again, they need a few gays to encourage the right behavior and to get a few waving queens in the mix. Here are some "high"lights:

You have to have your firefighters and you have to applaud when they go by. Otherwise, they will let your house burn to the ground. It's true. They take names.

There were lots of little twirlers in this group who were headed in the right direction. They wore sequins, smiled a little and actually had some rhythm. This little girl will probably be naturally skinny all her life. Is it wrong to resent such a person? No. I don't think so.
I said Sasquatch was there and I meant it. Minong is home to Jack Link's Beef Jerky enterprises. So naturally (?) Sasquatch was throwing out beef jerky and t-shirts. He's scary enough looking that many children cried. I will advise Jack Link NOT to create a Disneyfied Sasquatch for next years parade. There is NOTHING wrong with exposing children to terrifying things that throw beef treats at them. If anything, it sharpens their fight or flight response, which when faced with a real Sasquatch will benefit them, don't you think?

'T'ain't a Wisconsin parade without a whole mess of ATVs. These took the place of horses at this parade. And while they didn't poop and pee on the street, they did emit fumes that are toxic for those of us who breathe and harmful to the environment. So, I guess they are about even with horses then.
These little future gay haters of America were allowed a spot in the parade despite my vocal protests and spitting. Okay, I didn't do that. But, you know the damn boy scouts are virtually owned by the fecking Mormons, who, by the way are apparently the new keepers of family values in this great nation of ours (hey thanks for Prop 8, bitches) as they sit in their celestial underpants and feel accepted by Focus on the Family. Well, get real, Brigham Young, they are only in bed with you for your money. Only believing in James Dobson as your personal savior will get you saved.
Okay, I'll stop holding up this float and let the little bastards pass.

You all know there is a load of bat shit crazy riding around on this ATV. Angel collector, really? Are those the missing children she has limed and rotting under her floorboards? I wish I had a big gong, because I would have gonged her right out of the parade.

In Wisconsin, there are machines for which the purpose is unknown to normal people.

There is nothing like crazy old women to lighten the mood. Now THIS is a float. Take notes everyone. All you need is a hay wagon or a modified pontoon trailer, some shiny stuff, a little crazy and some big bags of candy to toss and you have a float.

Hula bears also create a nice sense of wonder and humor. The people sitting in lawn chairs in front of the bear without much to do, not so much.

Okay. Click on this one to blow it up. This is the fabled "Beauty by Trudee" float. There is not a good haircut on the damn thing and there is an ape on top, among other strange contradictions. So confusing. So confusing.

The parade was followed by a short trip home to play in the water, then BINGO! Curt won the first round and Marina won in the third. We left shortly thereafter because we feared the crowd would turn on us.

And that, my friends is Minong Summer Days.

I Return With Pointless Rambling

2010-08-12T18:48:00.003-05:00

After much whining and carrying on by MNMom, I am going to try to blog a little more than I have been. That is, if I can get out of work before 7:00 at night, which has been a problem lately. The other "problem" is that my old college chum Paul is such a f*cking amazing writer/blogger that I feel shame at my poorly constructed sentences and limited vocabulary. Okay, that last part was just a poor excuse that I'm guessing made Paul momentarily place blame upon himself, which is in his nature and that I have fun exploiting since we have reconnected after 25+ years. I bet he regrets that decision about now.

So, here's a little list of three things I want to go away just to get things rolling:

1. Flip flops: These are the lowest form of shoe. I am not a connoisseur of fine footwear. No. But, I'll be damned if these shoes don't stick in my craw every time I see them. The only good thing about them is that some people from my generation and slightly older still call them thongs and you know my affection for all things thong. I think the thing is that everyone wearing them looks like they are heading in to the shower and nobody wants to imagine that, unless it is Hugh Jackman. They might just as well wear a towel with those sloppy looking shoes. Feh. Oh, and pay attention to the number of people that trip over those god awful things in front of you while simply walking in a straight line. Which leads me to my second list item...

2. Drunk girls: Drunk girls are the ones that fall all over their damn thongs in front of me and they seem to be everywhere. Take for instance, the 4th of July fireworks in Gordon, WI. On the way, slightly drunk girls were everywhere tripping over the toes of their flip flops right in front of me. On the way back, the same now drunker girls, hopped up on patriotism as well, are weaving around, being loud and tripping on eachothers flip flops and laughing and falling and generally snarling up foot traffic. I made the mistake once of asking a fallen drunk girl if she was okay and she said the one thing that leads me to my third list item...

3. The sound "WOOOOOO": Me: Can I help you up? Are you okay? Drunk girl: (pause) WOOOOOO!! My question is, when did "WOOOOOO" become the international noise of fun? Point a camera at a group of two or more people at a party, on the Great Wall or helping at an accident site and what do they all say? Of course, "WOOOOOOO!" Drunk girls are the masters of this sound and substitute it for reasonable conversation at every turn. Ask them their name. "WOOOOOO!" Ask them how they've been. "WOOOOOO!" Inquire about their dying grandmother. "WOOOOO!" After which they will pause, cry, make a pass at you and throw up on your shoes.

Okay, enough for now. Feel better, Margaret?

Kiss this, Miley Cyrus!

2010-06-07T19:59:00.003-05:00

Last week, the buck-toothed, marginal talent known as Miley Cyrus made "news" by kissing one of her female backup dancers during a performance on Britain's Got Talent. To that I say two things:

1. Who the hell cares?
2. Is this supposed to be shocking?

In truth, famous women kissing women hasn't been really shocking for about 20 years since Madonna kissed that androgynous babe in the Justify My Love video- which, by the way, was BANNED from MTV at the time. Can you believe that considering all the skank that has since followed? Since then many pop tartlets have kissed women and, much to my surprise and dismay, continue to get attention for it. I don't understand it. Why is gay still an attention getter in 2010? Frankly, it is becoming offensive to forever play the gay card as provocative or even interesting. You're no lesbian, Miley. Don't even try it.

The other thing that really bugs me about this is that, like many pop tarts before her, Miley Cyrus is attempting to use sexuality to prove her relevance, maturity, and edginess. First you had Britney Spears doing a suggestive school girl in the "Hit Me Baby One More Time" video followed by a deep descent into talentless skankitude. Then Christina Aguilera hopped aboard the whore train and basically wore nothing for years. And so on and so on until Nelly Furtado comes out with a song years after the whore train has come and gone with the completely desperate title of "Promiscuous" off a CD titled in equally bad taste "Loose." Good god. Why do famous young women feel the need to prove themselves through sexual suggestiveness and clothing choices that make them look like mindless, manufactured hormone-driven morons?

So, back to Miley. Here is my advice to her:

1. If you're wearing a beautiful dress, STAND UP STRAIGHT. (See illustration above.) Are you having an abdominal cramp? Shoulders back! Now!

2. Try becoming famous for your talent, which takes real work, not your antics.

3. Little girls still look up to you. I know you're trying to break with your Disney image, but don't think that looking cheap and behaving like dumbass are the paths to maturity. You're 17. Let maturity come to you. You have time.

4. Don't let videos of you giving a lap dance to your 44 year old manager surface on the internet.

5. And finally, your relationship with your father gives just about everyone on earth the creeps. Don't hang on him or let him hang on you any more. Ever. There's just something wrong there that no one wants to put their finger on.

Big Mouth Part ? (oh hell, I've lost count)

2010-05-27T22:30:00.002-05:00

Today at work I described one of my projects to a co-worker like this: The right hand doesn't know what the left hand is doing and I suspect the left hand is flipping us off.
Boy, will I be glad when this one is over. Sheesh.

To Tell The Truth

2010-05-17T19:48:00.002-05:00

Six years ago when I was a newbie at my current employer, a co-worker showed me photos of his two children. They were doe eyed little angels with olive skin and dark brown hair and marvelous to behold. I told him, and it was the truth, that they were two of the most adorable children I had ever seen. They were.
In the mean time, he moved on to another area and we really haven't had much of an opportunity to connect. So, the other day I happened to wander by his office and thought I would stop in. He wasn't there, but front and center on his desk was a big photo of his two children- now around 10 and 12 years old. Each had a nearly complete uni-brow, teeth bigger than their face and a serious case of awkward preteen-ness that rivaled the ugly duckling phase I went through as a kid. And, horrible me, all I could think was "Oh my god, I am so glad he's not here." Considering how beautiful he and his wife both are, I am certain that given 5 or 6 more years these two will be the radiant head cheerleader and strapping captain of every sport in school. Until then, I will pretend I never saw this picture until he shows it to me himself and I can say, truthfully, "Oh they've grown so much" without being specific about what it is they've grown.

Two Completely Unrelated Things

2010-05-16T21:57:00.004-05:00

1. So, do you want to hear my big news from the cabin this weekend? Here it is. Curt and I were leaving for a walk and we saw an Eastern Towhee in a pine tree near the detached garage. That isn't my picture above, but that is what we saw. Very exciting for me. For you? Maybe not so much.

Lately, I imagine it is a little challenging to have a reasonable conversation with me outdoors. I'm forever distracted by each movement in the trees and my head flops from side to side just to catch sight of whatever little critter is making the branches move. Our poor neighbor Dino and the story he was in the middle of were victims of a Baltimore Oriole on Saturday. My undivided attention to Curt fell victim several times to two Chipping Sparrows and lots of Tree Swallows. Curt is even getting in to the act and interrupted me to point out a male Bluebird this weekend.

No matter how often I see these birds or other wildlife, I never get tired of them and am continually amazed to have the opportunity to view them. I have seen thousands of deer in my life and still slow down to observe each of them as I pass in my car and think to myself how incredible it is that something so big and elegant lives wild all around us. Curt is pretty much the same way. We're both pretty fascinated by virtually every wild animal we see and rarely fail to point them out and call them by name. "Black squirrel!" "Wild Turkey!" "Coyote!" "Woodpecker!"

This little identification game doesn't stop at living animals either. Oh no. If it isn't flattened beyond recognition, one or the other of us will typically call out the roadkill by name and, being the softies that we are, will feel a little sad. Depending on the weekend, a trip up to the cabin can feel like a long funeral. So, anyway, to all my furry and feathered friends, I appreciate you, enjoy your squeaks, squeals and songs and advise you all to look both ways before crossing the street. Enough on that topic.

2. Really unrelated to the first topic is my recent awareness of a new country singing sensation who calls herself Lady Antebellum. Huh. Does this sort of piss anyone else off? I'm guessing she's not referring to the time before the Gulf War is she? No. She is pandering to the redneck, confederate flag waving, racist Bubbas and trying to cash in on that lingering sentiment in the deep south that things were somehow better before the Civil War- like when you could OWN SLAVES!! What the hell is that about? Her stage name should be offensive enough for clearly ripping off Lady Gaga, but becomes truly revolting for carrying on the mindset that things were better when black folks "knew their place." Yuck. The puzzling thing is that I have yet to see her perform in a plantation style hoop skirt, although that would probably cover up her tattoo that reads "Bring me my grits, Prissy." I'm just speculating on the tattoo, but nothing would surprise me from this moron.

Another Fascinating Day

2010-05-13T22:12:00.002-05:00

Okay, that title was just meant to get you here. My day actually couldn't have been more ordinary. Here's some of what happened.

So, this morning I'm in line at the coffee bar in the employee cafeteria behind some unknown co-worker who is putting her cream and sugar in her coffee. I had finished filling my cup and was waiting for her to wrap things up when she does the strangest thing. Well, it wasn't the strangest thing because that might have been something like pulling miniature horse in a tutu out of her bag, kissing it on the rump and trotting it around in a figure 8 while singing 'Love To Love You Baby.' Perhaps what she did was better described as just odd. What she did is she grabbed a coffee lid and set it down in front of me while I'm waiting there. I don't take it for two reasons. One, I'm not ready to lid my coffee just yet. I've got some goodies to put in there before I do that. And, two, yuck. Big effing yuck. I don't want some stranger who's hands may have just come from caressing some hobo's genitals touching something that I am going to be putting to my lips in a few moments. That's disgusting. Anyway, she finishes her business and looks at the lid, looks at me and says "Fine. You don't want it. That's great," grabs the lid and PUTS IT BACK IN THE STACK OF LIDS. Ugh. Now she's touched it twice and had I had a blow torch to sanitize the stack of lids I would have used it and maybe taken her out in the process. So, as I am envisioning her doing a stop, drop and roll to extinguish herself, all I could say was "But I have things to put in my coffee." Lame.

This afternoon I was waiting in a meeting room for my boss to arrive when I see her standing outside the room chatting rather intensely with a V.P. She's facing me and the V.P. has his back to me. So, I take the opportunity to try to break her composure by leaning back in my chair and raising my eyebrows at her. I can tell she sees me in her peripheral vision, so I proceed. I lean back a little further in my chair, bug my eyes out and lift my eyebrows up and down. At this point, she is doing everything in her power not to be distracted by me. So, I lean even further back in my chair, make a face and the damn chair's tilt mechanism comes undone sending me falling backwards. I catch my fall and pull upright in my chair, but not before another co-worker has entered the meeting to witness my fall and graceful recovery. Both he and my boss were quite amused. Instant karma. It's a bitch.

Enough for now. Kirelimel, can you still see the lips?

She Calls 'Em Like She Sees 'Em

2010-05-06T18:44:00.004-05:00

Recently in our employee cafeteria they replaced the open garbage can at the coffee bar- intended to hold cream & sugar empties and stir sticks- with a foot operated, lidded garbage can about three steps away from the coffee bar. Kind of a pain in the butt, really. So, today, I grab my second cup of coffee, mix in my goodies, walk the three steps, press down with my foot, deposit my Splenda empties, go back three steps, put on my lid and go to the check out.

Here's how it went from there:

Me: Have I told you that I don't really care for the new foot operated garbage can over there?

Checkout Gal: Why? Because you have to use your foot on it?

Me: Well, yes, and it is three steps away from the coffee bar.

Checkout Gal: You're pathetic.

This is not...

2010-05-03T19:19:00.005-05:00

... a triumphant return to blogging. Oh no. I just wanted to say a few things too lengthy for FB, which, by the way, has ruined the blogging lives of many.

1. A couple of weeks back, a Dead or Alive song came on the radio during which Curt and I pondered what ever became of the lead singer. He was sort of freaky sexy and a little androgynous in way that made us both kind of curious about him.

Here he was then:

Well, folks, brace yourselves. Here he is now:

I guess we can't really call him androgynous any more, can we? I wonder if he can still sing.

2. So, Republicans are going after President Obama for appearing not to respond to the BP sponsored oil disaster quickly enough. This is their version of payback for the criticism of the Bush administration for shopping for shoes during Hurricane Katrina. Well, let's be clear about something shall we? Hurricane Katrina was a devastating natural disaster for which the ONLY response was to begin mobilizing relief and rescue when you could see the damn thing bearing down on New Orleans on radar for several days prior to the actual event. The BP oil spill is a BUSINESS DISASTER that is quickly becoming an environmental and economic disaster. The correct response on the part of BP is first to tell the truth about the severity of the spill, second to be really, really, really contrite about having NO acceptable level of preparation for an event of this kind and third quit sending around your flunkies with offers of checks for $5000 to fishing boat owners if they sign away their right to sue. Now Republicans think the government should bear the responsibility for this business disaster? Are you fecking kidding me?

3. One word to the guy in the 5th floor men's room (the most disgusting place on earth next to the restroom at Godfather's Pizza in Golden Valley) who was making some serious grunting noise today: FIBER.

4. To the woman who stopped the salad bar line twice today to hold impromptu meeting scheduling sessions with your sycophantic interns who just don't know better: Next time, lady, you get whacked with the tongs. I mean it.

5. The amazing Mr. John is mid-stream on the cabin remodeling and I can barely contain my excitement. We're going up this weekend to paint the kitchen and fill up the new cabinets. Our first guest of honor this year will be..... Ruthie! Hooray. (No making that face, Ruth.) Make your reservations now.

Say what?

2010-02-01T18:28:00.002-06:00

(First of all, I hope none of you got too attached to listening to the same music over and over again while reading my blog. I had to delete it. It was making me crazy.)

This post is dedicated to once lovely words and phrases that are now virtually meaningless through misuse or abuse. I have a lot and will stop when I get bored, which shouldn't be too long. Let's begin. Shall we?

Artisan: How many products do we see every day in every venue that someone has conveniently labeled "artisan" or "artisanal"? Lots, I tell you. When I used to hear that term, I envisioned something created by someone who has spent many years, perhaps in an apprenticeship to a master artisan, honing their craft until they can go forth and deliver to the world their finely crafted delights. Not so much any more. When Walmart and Cub now has an entire wall of "artisan" breads for which you can occasionally find coupons, you know the word is toast. No pun intended, but it worked out nicely. These Walmartisans no doubt trained for at least 30 minutes on pouring ingredients into a giant mixer and watching the dough get kneaded. Boo Walmartisans.

Cage Free: Last summer, many of you learned of my complete horror at learning of the practice for culling male chicks by sorting them and throwing them into a grinder while still alive. This led me to attempt to find more humanely produced eggs. Thinking I was doing some chickens a favor, I now opt for cage free eggs from chickens fed an organic (more on that later) diet. Cage free, ah. Chickens out in the sun and fresh air, pecking at the ground for insects, grubs and seed. Lovely. WRONG! Cage free now means giant warehouses with chickens pecking at the seed scattered on the cement floor of a warehouse- only marginally less cruel than cages. I'm told I need to find a local grower who raises chickens from eggs- no commercially produced pullets- and pastures the chickens. Instead of $3.49 a dozen for my cage free organic eggs, I can now expect to pay "slightly" more than that and feel better about myself and the chickens.

Hand Crafted: Slightly less skilled than artisans, in my mind, are hand crafters. Hand crafters have honed their skill at producing lovely items but are not professional artisans. Or whatever. This is my thought process we're visiting here. So, bear with me please. You can have delightful hand crafted scarves and sweaters, quilts and blankets. You get the drift. So, imagine my horror when I walk by Caribou Coffee to see a sign announcing the sale of hand crafted oatmeal. Yes. Oatmeal. If by hand crafted they mean tearing open a packet of instant oats, stirring in hot water, adding dried fruit and a little brown sugar, then I guess that redefines hand crafted and I am hand crafting my own breakfast about 2 days a week on oatmeal days. Pathetic.

Organic: I know there are standards set forth by the FDA on what defines organic, but do they need to allow giant corporations to ruin my idyllic vision of what organic farming is? I picture organic farmers like our friend Nancy, who bought some land in a mountain valley in Colorado, lived in a yurt, and slowly built up a thriving, but smallish, sustainable farm. These farmers, not necessarily Nancy, wake up at the shriek of dawn, slap some patchouli under their arms, throw on a tunic and some sandals and go work the earth until dusk, at which time they heat water on the wood burning stove, dump it into a tub and wash off the dirt with a sustainably harvested loofah. There are no suits involved, no marketing meetings, no quarterly profit reports. Yet, sadly the majority of organic produce comes from large, but chemical free, farms. Bummer.

Hand dyed: So, this one is specific to my life as a quilter. When I'm too lazy (or forbidden from- another story) to dye my own fabrics, I want to buy hand dyed fabrics from a hand crafter or even an artisan (but they better be that much better from an artisan). There is a lot of this stuff to be found. However, visit most quilt stores and they will tell you that the perfectly pressed, flawless 15 yard bolts of pretty fabrics lining the walls are hand dyed. To that I say "Rubbish!" When 10,000+ yards of identical fabrics are produced in a single color, that is not hand dyed. Perhaps a hand touched the fabric during the dying process in the textile mill and that qualifies it as hand dyed. However, not one of these manufacturers will show you images of the hand crafters and artisans trying to work 10,000 yards of pristine cotton through a dye bath. Why? Because they are big stinky liars, that's why.

Whole grain: Look at a loaf of good Walmartisan Seven Grain Bread. You can see probably 3 or 4 different actual grains- millet, wheat berry, oats, etc. You just have trust that the other 3 or 4 are in there, and probably are safe in doing so. It also isn't worth worrying about if there are 6 or 7 grains. Just eat it. It's good for you. However, look at a box of Multi-Grain Cheerios, made with "whole grain" and you'll see something else completely. There is not a shred of recognizable whole grain in that box. And, to make matters worse, the little puffed starch rings are created in different shades of beige to fool you into thinking that each one is made from a different whole grain. Don't be fooled. The dark brown one tastes just like the white one. Trust me. Now, don't get me wrong. They are tasty. They just aren't whole grain anything.

Natural: When I think of "natural" I envision eating vegetables fresh from the garden and wearing cotton clothing that I have sewn myself, from cotton I have grown and harvested in a sustainable fashion and spun into thread which I have woven into cloth. I envision my all natural face catching every sunrise and sunset at just the right angle each day in a way that could be captured in a photo that would say "this man is a wholesome, earth respecter whose rugged good looks are enhanced by the good food he takes in for nourishment, sunbeams and optimism." That is what natural meant. Now it is found on every processed food container and loudly proclaims "I was made from what was once a plant, a now unrecognizable plant, but a plant, nonetheless." There are even "all natural" labels on those little prepackaged meals that are not in the freezer section and not in a can. You know the ones. They sit suspiciously on the shelves near the soups and we wonder how they can stay fresh without refrigeration. All natural radiation, that's how. Sad.

For My Straight Guy Readers... All One of Them

2010-01-18T18:59:00.004-06:00

Watching Vikings games, one inevitably gets several shots of perky cheerleaders, not unlike the woman above, shaking their pom poms and making the internationally recognized sound for a good time "woooooo woooooo". Despite the official job responsibilities of leading cheers, we all know that they are there simply for the visual amusement of straight guys under the influence of a few beers and hot dogs. I think that straight men must get some sort of arousal or other cheap thrill from watching the cheerleaders. This perplexes me to no end and really proves, if you had any doubt at all, that I am most certainly at the furthest reaches of the homo end of the Kinsey scale. I just don't get it.
When I see cheerleaders dancing around in tiny unattractive little outfits, I think:

1. Put some clothes on. There are little girls watching who might think this is a legitimate means of self expression.

2. Quit dancing like that. Those moves -watched by the same little girls who already want to dress like whores due to your influence- end up in dance recitals in Fridley where, frankly, they just don't know any better.

3. Hey, you with the blond spiral perm flipping your hair just that much harder than your teammates, quit trying so hard to stand out. It is not 1990. The spiral perm's days are long over and you look desperate.

4. Did you not get enough attention from your father? I base this remark on my experience working with an actual Minnesota Viking cheerleader at a former job. This gal had to be counseled by her manager to wear skirts that covered her butt cheeks. She once crawled under my desk in one of these short skirts to look at cabling, then emerged to say "Oh, that's right. That doesn't work on you." She also got married in a big Martha Stewart style wedding and started an affair with a co-worker who was engaged to his pregnant fiancee within 6 months of getting hitched. SEEK THERAPY. WEAR CLOTHING.

5. Even though you might be a rocket scientist, your hardest job must be trying to look only sexy and not smart for roughly 4 hours every Sunday.

So, to my one straight guy reader and the husbands of my lady friends, let me ask you this:

Do you see the same things I see when I look at cheerleaders? And, if so, are they still fun to look at?

Another Bone for the Blog

2010-01-17T09:59:00.002-06:00

1. MUSIC!! If you hear music when you come to my blog, you are not hallucinating. As disappointing as that may be for some of you, I have simply added a sparkly new feature called a PlayList to my blog. If it annoys the living daylights out of you, scroll down and hit the pause button. Your honest feedback will inform my choice as to whether or not to keep this feature.

2. Have you ever sent a three sentence e-mail at work and gotten a response back that clearly indicates that the last two sentences, however brief, pithy and concise, have gone unread? Boy, is that annoying, and it happens ALL THE TIME. Message to the offending parties: you could decrease the amount of time spent on e-mail if you read them the first time. I hate to use this word, but here goes.- duh.

3. Short of camping out all day in a blind yesterday, I needed to figure out how to get pictures of the birds that I so desperately want to take pictures of. Being wild animals, they all scatter when I come out the door with equipment, that in their minds, might resemble a gun. So, I consulted the internet regarding "nature photography." What was the internet's recommendation? Lots of patience and a damn blind- two things of which I am in short supply.

4. My lovely Curt is an extreme lightweight. This is his birthday weekend- 47 years. So last night at dinner, Curt has one margarita to celebrate his birthday eve. One. So what happens? On the drive home- and thankfully its me driving- Curt is thrashing around in his seat, dancing to Shalamar's Dancing in the Sheets on 80's on 8. The next songs come on and he's over their making sounds like "NGEEEEEEE! Neee! N,n,n, NEEEEE!" to the guitar solo and making up alternate version of song lyrics, much to his own amusement. Happy Birthday, honey. Reason number #4309 that I adore you.

5. You may or may not know this about me, but I cannot bear suffering of any kind. Suffering, physical or emotional pain, whether it be affecting humans or animals, just ruins me. It is one thing, that despite all my indignation and bluff at certain religious and political figures, instantly reminds me of our shared humanity and makes me extremely humble. (Yes, if I saw James Dobson get hit by a car while crossing the street, I would indeed stop to help him, even though I might first entertain the thought of hitting him one more time to put him out of the collective misery he has created.) That is why this week's earthquake in Haiti has just about ruined me. Even though I can't do anything right now except screen the charities I donate to carefully, I'm going to work with some of my connections at Habitat for Humanity and see if there is something I can do six months from now. And that leads me to ask what is enough? Am I doing enough? How far is far enough to go in helping these people that cannot catch a break? When do I know? I struggle with these questions every day and not just about Haiti- the guy down the street, the dogs in breeding mills, the chickens in cages. How do you know?

6. And on that note, let me add a bit of levity, stolen from a fellow blogger:

A New Blog Role Entry

2010-01-09T08:33:00.002-06:00

I love this blog. Sleep Talkin' Man is the blog of a woman in the UK who's husband is an active sleep talker. She records his nightly ramblings and posts them for all to enjoy. Check it out.

A View of Christmas (Recently) Past

2009-12-27T09:35:00.003-06:00

I'm not really a December holiday guy. Generally, the pre-holiday consumerism, greed of untrained children and the long lines to return the bounty the day after Christmas really just sort of suck. On the other hand, we have the return of the sun and, subsequently, longer days on the winter solstice. This is good. I also have the opportunity to spend some time with friends and family that we don't get to see as often as we should. So this is good, too.
Here are some highlights from this year's holidays with family:

1. The weekend before Christmas, Curt and I ventured to my sister's "cabin" (read huge ass house in the woods) near Lansing, IA. Her husband had been complaining about all the "Faith-Family-Friends" signage that my sister has collected and placed about the cabin. He said he wanted a sign of his own with all his favorite things. This is the result:

My sister's friend painted the sign. Take a look at the penis she painted. Curvy.
CENSORSHIP UPDATE: I had previously posted the full version of this picture, in which my brother-in-law is holding the sign and my sister is standing next to him making a bl*w j*b face. I discussed it with my sister, and although we both thought it was funny, we decided to take it down just in case one of her co-workers got a hold of it. She's a nun. Just kidding.

2. This is my sister with her two boys Tweedle-Dustin and Tweedle-Brandon. Their holiday tradition is fighting (literally) over their mother's chex mix- which is really unusually good. I think it is the cheese crackers she puts in there. Anyway, this year, they absconded with all of it on their way out. Bad piggys. Bad piggys.

3. Curt's clan all came over for Christmas day this year. How many people did we squeeze into our dining room? If you guessed 16, you're right. The rest of them sat in the lower level. Curt's clan is a great bunch. They all get along (a real bonus). The nieces and nephews are all reasonably well behaved. And, best of all, they are a lot of fun to hang out with.

4. Curt's clan still exchanges gifts. Lot's of gifts. There also is a fair amount of mischief in the gift giving. Here is niece Ashley with some thongs from her cousin. She made the mistake of telling her cousin she had to go commando one day because she didn't have any clean laundry. Wa la! A thoughtful Christmas present is born.

5. One of the more interesting family traditions are the two lingerie boxes that get passed around to unsuspecting victims. For about 25 years or more, there has been a Frederik's of Hollywood box that usually has a fun gift inside. After Curt's Dad died a few years back, a Victoria's secret box entered the rounds. The first year, it held a bubble pack of his dad's Viagra that the family found while cleaning out his condo. The next year, the bubble pack had one less pill in it. The following year, I got the box, with no Viagra but a pretty normal gift. So, when it came time to pass it on last year, I put some of my own personal lingerie in it and gave it to my sister in law Tammy. This year she passed it on to our niece Rachel with a few added adornments. Swanky. The kids called them granny panties. Nice.

Just In Time For the Holidays

2009-12-21T17:49:00.003-06:00

This past weekend, Curt and I went to my sister Linda's "cabin" in the woods near Lansing, Iowa for my family's version of Christmas. At the big event, my sister served up some of the most amazing cheesy potatoes I've ever had. Curt and I made some for our friends when we returned home. Another big hit. The recipe is extremely easy to make. So, here is my (my sister's really, but who's keeping track) holiday gift to all of you:

Sister Linda's Kick Ass Pan of Cheesy Potatoes

(with color commentary by me)

2 lbs of hash browns

1 can of cream of chicken soup

1 can of cream of mushroom soup

8 oz of sour cream

(NOTE: don't be a pussy and try to save calories or sodium on the cream of soups and sour cream. This is cheesy potatoes for god's sake. Let them be bad ass.)

1/2 to 3/4 stick of butter softened or even melted

8 oz of finely shredded cheddar cheese

(I used sharp cheddar. Use real cheese or I will call you a name.)

5-6 cups of Corn Flakes crushed

(Not Special K!)

1. Pre-heat the oven to 350 degrees.
2. In a big bowl, mix the soups, sour cream, butter and cheese. Mix in the hash browns until they are well coated with cheesy, soupy mix. (Feel free to add some pepper or diced onions, too.)
3. Spray a 9 x 13 baking pan with Pam. Spread the potato mixture evenly in the pan and place in the pre-heated for 60 minutes.
4. Crush the cornflakes. Not to a dust, but a crumble.
5. At about 50 minutes of baking, pull the pan out and spread the cornflake crumbles on top of the potatoes and return to the oven to finish.

EAT! YUM!

I Am Not a Greasy Fingered Deer Hunter and Other True Stories

2009-12-15T19:18:00.006-06:00

1. It has been deer season in Wisconsin for the last several weeks and I am not a deer hunter. For one thing, I am a big screaming girl when it comes to guns. I fear/hate them. For another, I think deer, while tasty as can be, are really stunning creatures. Yes, I know there are occasional periods of overpopulation and times that they attempt to eat all the buds off our yellow magnolia. I don't care. They are pretty and I can't shoot them. Eat them, yes. Shoot them, no.
Yet, I think the primary reason that I am not a deer hunter is male bonding. Getting up early, starting the day with 5 beers before loading the gun and talking about- I don't know what (help me out here straight guys)- with your buddies while walking the ditches just doesn't appeal to me. Even less appetizing is what happens after the hunt. Up at the cabin, we get a local news flyer called the Northwoods Shopper that is about 15 pages of business ads and classifieds. Well, let me tell you that during deer season the size jumps up to about 25 pages and is full of "alternate" activities aimed at the influx of deer hunters to the area. For example, a local resort had a special on rooms, a nice buffet and a beer bar. Nice. Okay.
Then there are the other establishments that offer even more interesting alternatives. There is a bar & grill down the road from our cabin about 3 miles called Gruzy's- with the "z" backwards. I guess that's like Cyndi the cyclops with an "i"- just to stand out, you know. During the summer, this place is like any other bar and grill, only with shit for service from the evil waitresses with push up bras to show off their stretch marked boob tattoos who will look at you like you just asked them to felch you if you request a fuzzy navel. (It's true. Ask Marina.) Anyway, what do you suppose this family friendly establishment offers during deer season? You're right if you guessed women's oil wrestling on Tuesday night and exotic dancers Thursday. C-l-a-s-s-y. And you wonder why I'm not a deer hunter. Ladies, don't let your men tell you that they hang out playing cards and drinking beer. Oh no. They are getting greazy- with a backwards "z"- fingers while tipping scantily clad women dripping with french fry oil. Not for me. Not even a little.

2. This past weekend, Curt had a volleyball tournament. So I figured why not go up to the cabin with the pooches and hang out. So what does a real man do at the cabin by himself? He hooks the iPod up to the TV and re-watches the entire season of Glee thus far. He organizes a cabin scrapbook with pictures of all our guests to date. And, of course, he gives himself a facial. (Not that kind of facial, Dean, but I'm flattered you think I'm that flexible any more.) This weekend I brought up a all purpose anti-aging scrub, various creams and lotions and an activated charcoal mask. While waiting for the charcoal mask to dry, which is pitch black, I wandered around the cabin a bit, worked on the scrapbook a bit, started a little kitchen prep, then suddenly got a little paranoid. The thought crossed my head that if I were to cut myself badly with a kitchen knife or fall down the stairs and break my neck, the EMTs or sheriff would find me injured or dead with what would appear to be blackface on. "Chubby Gay in Blackface Dies In Tragic Scrapbooking Accident" would be the headline. Gads. I carefully approached the sofa, waited for the mask to finish drying, carefully headed to the bathroom and rinsed my potentially offensive face off.

3. Speaking of potentially offensive, what I am about to say in print may piss you off. It may not too. I was not saddened one bit to hear that Oral Roberts died today. This man claimed to glorify God, but all anyone can see are monuments (some failed- law school, medical center, etc.) that he named after HIMSELF, a history of financial scams against his followers and putting his scheister son in charge of a university where he absconded with about $50 million that was spent on his luxurious lifestyle. And still the man is revered. Pull your heads out of your asses people. Recognize a fraud. Lots of lousy shit has been done in the name of God. Know it when you see it. Call a duck a duck. Enough said. Another dinosaur extinct. Good riddance.

4. It was reported this week that drinking coffee may be good for the prostate. If so, I have a really, really healthy prostate. I hope.

5. On the health front, my fabulous hematologist Dr. M. told me that there is a clinical trial going on at Mayo for my genetic mutation that has been having really great results. So great that it appears that the mutant gene becomes inactive and many participants are completely asymptomatic. So, I have a choice. I'm doing pretty well on maintenance blood work and blood lettings and can continue that. This risk is progressive bone marrow scarring, which if it gets far enough could be not very good news at all. Or, I could try to get into the clinical trial. However, I wouldn't know for sure that I wasn't in the control group. And, if I was getting the real stuff, I could grow a second head or a third nipple or something since the side effects aren't well known. Hmmmm. What would you do? Not a nice blog topic, but there you go.

6. It appears that we may miss the deadline again this year for sending out holiday cards. If that happens, I want to say in advance "Happy Holidays!!"

More Miscellany

2009-12-06T18:46:00.003-06:00

If I could stay focused on one topic long enough to compose more than a paragraph or two, I wouldn't have to subject you to these damn lists. But I can't, at least today. So here's another list for you.

1. Why on earth would any human being in 2009 still believe that a mullet is an acceptable form of self expression? I believe even rugby playing lesbians have retired that look in favor of the plain old flat top. I typically wouldn't give a mullet any air time, but here is what Jared Allen of the Minnesota Vikings has to say about mullets:

Party with two Rs? Extra mayo? Okay. Fine.

2. It took about two weeks before Curt and I both slept through the night after witnessing and assisting with a horrible accident scene at the beginning of the month. We were both a little surprised at how deeply it affected us. I think the thing that has changed the most for me is I've become a little less judgemental. We helped to care for the boy who caused the accident after he was launched from his truck. He was alive but basically dead from the massive head injury. Yes, he was likely distracted. Yes, he was an inexperienced driver. Yes, he killed a father and his only son. But, he was some one's son and brother and only 18 and he didn't mean to do it. It was indeed an accident. In the days that followed, the message boards were filled with hateful messages- glad that the boy was dead, that he should burn in hell, that he deserved to die. Unbelievable. Before the accident, I probably would have had a similar reaction- judging those who cause accidents harshly. Now, I pause, give it some thought, and try to think compassionately about things. Do I still get angry that people drive drunk, drive poorly while doing their makeup or talking on their cell phones? You bet. It is a difficult place for me to find some balance, but I"m trying.

3. I heard today about a winter snow warning for southern Minnesota and northern Iowa. The first thing that came to mind was worry that my dad my slip and hurt himself outside. I still do it 18 months after my died dad and it makes me miss him. I'm not sure sometimes that I was a great son. We didn't see eye to eye on some things or have much to talk about. I was often impatient and frustrated with him. But, I loved him and he knew it. I just wish there had been more time to let him know.

4. Saturday was a marvelous cookie extravaganza at our house with MNMom and me. Though my chocolate crinkles were crap again this year, everything else turned out pretty darned good. For a taste of adventure, I let MNMom's 15 year old twin #2 take the wheel to go pick up our pizza while MNMom finished some baking. Even though I threatened to scream bloody murder all the way there and back, I must say that I am a very cool cucumber when it comes to this sort of thing. I think twin #2 would say so as well. She's also a very good, responsible driver. So that made screaming less important.

5. My seasonal depression is kicking my big jello ass. So, I have been dragging my butt to the gym, taking vitamin D supplements and trying to eat better, which seems to help. In May of 2008, I went off my antidepressants for the first time since 1990 and have been managing to keep myself afloat even through some pretty rough patches. How many days until winter solstice? About 15. That's right. When the days start getting longer, I start getting happier. That's just how I roll.

6. I am on the project from hell at work. 7 vendors, no formally documented requirements and my team is supposed to start testing on the 15th. How am I supposed to pull this off? Well, according to the project manager, I am supposed to just be laid back and go with the flow. WRONG ANSWER, BUCKO! WRONG ANSWER!

7. I pulled off a pair of socks that stunk to high heaven the other day. It reminded me of my college friend Thomas who never had a problem finding creative ways to tell me the truth. It was he who told me that my feet were "foul vinegar hooves". This phrase has stuck with me for 25+ years now and I use it whenever I can.

8. Vikings are on. Better go. Can't miss Jared Allen and that sexy mullet. It is amazing he gets laid.

A Little Something For You

2009-11-27T09:14:00.003-06:00

If these guys aren't gay, then they earn honorary status for their sense of fun and flair. Get ready for the big costume change at about 3:00 and again 30 seconds later. Woo hoo!

Welcome White Boy to the Blog Role

2009-11-19T18:11:00.003-06:00

Please welcome a new entry to my blog role "White Boy From Wisconsin." Woo hoo! No, this is not a white supremacist, Hamms drinking typical white boy from Wisconsin. Oh no. This is an old college chum who is frighteningly smart (think Fulbright), a great writer, very entertaining and insightful. Please, pay him a visit. (And best of all he's promised me a nickel for every referral.) Click away!!

If I Were Dorothy...

2009-11-16T18:20:00.001-06:00

I would have felt the same way.

53% of Maine Residents Are Morons

2009-11-04T17:28:00.007-06:00

[Note: If you are a conservative christian and don't want to be pissed off, stop reading here.]

Wow. I shouldn't still get surprised by anything that conservative christians will do to force their beliefs on others, but I am. Take Maine for instance where Stand for Marriage Maine, heavily funded by the conservative christian movement narrowly repealed the gay marriage law. The whole campaign was based on lies and fear mongering to people who can't think for themselves. Sadly there are a LOT of those people out there still. Here are just some of the lies that are on the Stand for Marriage Maine website. (You should also watch the TV promos while you're there. Unbelievable.)

Lie: Vote Yes on 1 protects [marriage] as an essential institution that has benefited mankind since the beginning of time.
Truth: Since the beginning of time?? Get a grip. The version of marriage to be protected here- monogamous between one man and one woman- is a relatively recent invention. Gosh, if you consult the BIBLE- which, according to the science bashing conservative christians IS the beginning of time- you will see clearly that Abraham, Jacob, David, Solomon, and others all had multiple wives. Why aren't you getting polygamy on the ballot? If, as you lying bastards believe, the bible is the indisputable word of god, then you better believe all of it.

Lie: Every culture in the world understands that marriage is between a man and a woman.
Truth: Have you heard of the Netherlands, Spain, Belgium, South Africa, Norway or Sweden? Those cultures believe that gays and lesbians should have the same legal standing in marriage as heterosexuals. Or don't they count?

Lie: Maine citizens from all walks of life and backgrounds, whether religious or not, agree that marriage is between a man and a woman.
Truth: 47% of Maine voters believe otherwise.

Lie: [If same sex marriage is permitted] Maine will have abandoned its commitment to promote monogamous marriage as a foundation of society and an important policy to enrich Maine families. The interests of children in ensuring healthy marriages will be eliminated.
Truth: Did the Maine legislature allow for polygamy when it voted for gay marriage rights? NO. How will children be harmed if gays and lesbians are afforded the same legal rights as heterosexuals. THEY WON'T. Research shows that children raised by gay and lesbian parents are just as healthy as those raised by heterosexual parents. (But we aren't even talking about that here. ) These fear tactics are so very typical of the divisive behavior of these so-called christians. If Maine wanted to protect marriage "as a foundation of society", THEY WOULD HAVE OUTLAWED DIVORCE!! And here's what Jesus says about that in Matthew 5:32 "But I tell you that anyone who divorces his wife, except for marital unfaithfulness, causes her to become an adulteress, and anyone who marries the divorced woman commits adultery. " Look it up. Then look in your own church to see who the adulterers are and prevent THEM from remarrying.

Lie: If the gay marriage law takes effect, teachers could have little choice but to teach young children there is no difference between gay marriage and traditional marriage and parents could lose control over what their kids learn in school about marriage.
Truth: NOTHING in the law passed by the state legislature of Maine dictates that teachers would have to say ANYTHING about marriage to their students. Yet, isn't it funny that these christian nut bags attack school boards across the country to force the teaching of creationism in favor of evolution. It never fails to amaze me that these hypocrites say that gay marriage is forcing our "lifestyle" upon them. Yet, when we say we don't want christian teaching in our schools (because, let's face it, the non-christians might get offended) we are christian bashing. F*cking hypocrites. And we know Jesus had a lot to say about hypocrisy. Look it up, bitches.

I am so weary of this fight. I am so weary of the lies that are told in the name of Jesus. I am so sick of the focus that conservative christians have placed on gays and lesbians in order to maintain their culture of fear and divisiveness. I am sick about the amount of money raised to prevent me from having the same legal privileges (not rights folks, privileges) that are afforded couples who happen to be heterosexual that could have been used to help people improve their lives. I don't profess to be a religious person, but I do know enough about the philosophy of Jesus to understand that the conservative christian movement is an extremist perversion of christianity and I think they've got a big surprise waiting for them. Peace and love are hard to find in the crazy rantings of today's talabanic christians. What a shame. I trust karma and the universe enough to know that one day these hypocritical ass hats will be dinosaurs. One by one they will fade into obscurity. Buh bye. Can't come soon enough.

Stacy Grabbed My Junk And Other Reunion Stories

2009-10-26T17:51:00.011-05:00

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.

Crabby Ranting

2009-10-18T15:44:00.005-05:00

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.

I Love A Parade: Cranberry Festival

2009-10-04T17:55:00.010-05:00

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.

Here's A Bone. Poor Blog.

2009-09-25T06:34:00.002-05:00

Well, my poor, neglected blog called me up whining for some attention. I've been either too busy to write anything or afraid I might truly offend some thinking conservatives while taking down their ignoramus "death panel" friends a notch. More on that to come, rest assured. Today, however, I serve up a mish mash of randomness that is floating around in my giant Scandinavian cabbage head this a.m.

1. Speaking of thinking conservatives, I sit next to one at work. We disagree on just about everything imaginable. Her hot topic is being pro-life. I am pro-choice. But, can we find common ground in our opposing views? Absolutely. She is VERY religious. I am not. But, do we find some common ground in our values on which to base our conversations and a personal connections? Yes. What is the difference here between this dear woman and the loud mouth idiots featured so prominently on the news? She is interested in and respects the opinions of others while maintaining steadfastly to her own. She respects all people and seeks to find that place where reasonable conversations can be held. She, rather than claiming to be Christian and behaving like a boob, is a Christian with values that are in line with the teachings of Jesus (yes, boobs, that is what you're supposed to be doing- LOVING not hating and dividing) and she recognizes the hypocrisy of of the aforementioned others. That's enough on that topic. I love her to pieces.

2. I need to make some time next year to go back to El Salvador to build more houses. I think I left a piece of my heart in that little village last year. Every time I look at my pictures and recall the time I spent there, I get quite teary. Anyone want to come with me?

3. Speaking of teary, I have been missing my mom and dad like crazy. I think now that the bulk of the family drama is over, some more grieving for my dad is surfacing. Showing my folks pictures from our trip to Europe would have been fun. Some of it I imagine is seasonal. I'm always weepy in the fall, but mostly I miss my parents.

4. Must lose 50 lbs before our class reunion in October. F*ck!

5. Even though I am fatter than I want to be and it frustrates me to no end, I have LOTS to be insanely grateful for. I have a job that, though hard sometimes, doesn't require me to leave my soul at the door. Though I would like to see them more, I have good friends who would take a bullet for me. (We'll test that theory the next time I offend someone at a health care rally.) I have a marvelous and extreeeeeemely patient partner who puts up with so much of my shit that I don't believe it most days. We have not one but two homes, when someone I love very much is struggling to find one. We have two absolutely astounding critters in our home that every day bring us more and more joy. I am wildly fortunate.

6. I am failure averse and it holds me back. I don't care so much about advancing at work and taking risks there. I don't have much more aspiration in that regard. This is more on a personal and creative level. Lots of dreams, but spooked. Working on that.

7. I heard a story about someone that I have no love for who is sort of on the verge of self destructing right now. This person just really bugs the shit out of me and is selfish and cruel. I figured this day might come and always imagined that I would feel smug and righteous. To my surprise, I felt sad for this person with a hint of compassion. Does that make me a grown up?

Health Care Reform: Glad to Get This Off My Chest

2009-08-14T06:57:00.005-05:00

I have very quickly gotten quite ill with the "debate" over health care reform recently. Actually, this is not a debate at all. It is a shouting match. Well, not even a shouting match so much because a match would presume that both sides are shouting. No, truth is that it is "patriotic" Americans from one side of the aisle shouting over the top of anyone who supports the radical notion that all Americans should have access to health care without fear of bankrupting themselves. These loud Americans call what they are doing the democratic process, yet when the other side of the aisle shouted about the lies told that got us into Iraq it was called Un-Democratic , Un-American and downright dangerous to our national security. Clearly Democracy is all about the loudest dissenters drowning out the voice of anyone with whom they disagree, then putting a folksy, flag waving spin on it to keep unthinking Americans uninformed and really only interested in the Jerry Springer entertainment value of the whole thing.

So, in the spirit of "debate", here are my objections to some of the common objections about health care reforms:

1. Whine #1: Death panels
This is completely a falsehood and I am embarrassed for Sarah Palin because she is incapable of being embarrassed for herself. Even Republicans know that this is not part of the bill, but since Sarah's display of ignorance has gotten so much press and generated so much furor among the uninformed, no one is backing down from it. End of life counseling -living wills, medical intervention orders, end of life wishes- is a voluntary choice in the bill. (Now being withdrawn from the bill because of misinterpretation by idiots.) Once every 5 years, a person can voluntarily seek out a doctor to discuss end of life issues and get help drawing up their end of life wishes. The plan would pay for this service every five years. A few years back, my doctor and I sat down and had a frank discussion about my end of life wishes (which, in case you're curious are in a box under the desk in the office). It was an awkward conversation, because these are tough decisions. That said, I want control over who makes my decisions when I am incapacitated (Curt), what level of care will be provided (pull the plug) and how my remains are disposed of (cremation, and I don't care where you put me after that). A panel of doctors didn't decide this for me and they won't decide it for you in any government funded system. Duh.

2. Whine #2: I won't be able to choose the doctor that I want.
Honey, go look at your current health care plan if you are fortunate enough to have one. Do you need to choose a network or primary clinic as a requirement of this plan? Unless you are a senator with about 16 health plan choices, I'm reasonably certain that you can't see just any old doctor you want, without paying out of network fees. Similar concept with health care reform. You will likely have a choice of network or primary clinic. No where does it say that some bureaucrat will be randomly assigning you to a clinic. Think for yourself here.

3. Whine #3: I won't be able to get in to see a doctor when I choose.
Can you now? If you can, you are lucky. I have to wait several days sometimes for an appointment and I've got pretty damn good coverage. In fact, when I was on anti-depressants, I had to schedule appointments with my shrink 4 months in advance because, like most shrinks, they have a single day or two of coverage at each clinic they work from. Also, the current state of not getting to see a doctor when one chooses also contributes to the ridiculous number of emergency room visits for non-emergencies, which drives up health care costs for all of us. Typically these non-emergency visits come from people who don't have any insurance, or from under-employed/under-insured who can't leave work during work hours to see a doctor because their employers are dicks.

4. Whine #4: We will be no better than Canada.
What the f*ck is wrong with Canada? We talk about Canada in many regards like they are a third world pariah. Enough of that. Really listen next time when health care objectors get on Meet the Press or other news programs and mention the state of Canadian health care. All their objections are based on hearsay about what happened to a friend of a friend of a friend who was denied a specific treatment. Anecdote and hearsay do not represent the state of health care in Canada. Which leads to the next whine...

5. Whine #5: I don't want anyone choosing for me which medical procedures I have done.
Wake up, dear. What do you think the insurance companies do for you? Most clinics in this country are set up so that you never have to see the insurance pre-approval process for most procedures. The only time you ever hear about it is if it is not covered and you have to pay out of pocket, or the service is denied. Then we get into situations like all the scary anecdotes coming out of Canada about insurance companies denying needed services. And, don't tell me there aren't a LOT of complaints about our current system for anecdotes just like these. Lots.

6. Whine #6: This is going to cost the country too much money.
Yes. This is going to cost the country a lot of money. Our current health care system and government funded systems (Medicare/Medicaid) already have costs that are spiraling out of control. We taxpayers are already taking it in the ass for Medicare/Medicaid. Why not do something that will help control overall costs AND provide coverage to the under insured and uninsured?

But, let's face it folks. Most people who object to health care reform really just hate the working class and the poor. You just don't want to get everyone on a reasonably level playing feel because that would make you less special, less entitled. Most Americans are so incredibly greedy and selfish that the thought of actually just raising taxes by one iota of one percent so that all Americans can have access to health care makes them cringe. You believe that the poor are not just like you, that their values of faith and family must be flawed, that if they would only pull themselves up by their bootstraps then they would be better people, that they are just fundamentally so different that you couldn't possibly imagine doing anything to help them. Yet, most of you are one paycheck away, one layoff away from being in their ranks. Then who are you going to blame? And when you find yourself in the situation where you have no health care coverage and need assistance, are you going to be angry? Are you going to say that you're a (formerly) hard working American who DESERVES health care? Hmmm. If it takes you blowhards losing your jobs to find yourselves in this situation, then may the misfortune rain down upon you so that you will wake up and realize that everyone, even the poor and different, deserve access to health care.

More Blog Miscellany

2009-08-09T18:22:00.005-05:00

1. A few weekends back we had a marvelous crew up to the cabin. Jeff and Aldo came in from San Francisco and Carolyn and Jeff came up from Rochester. Here are some pictures.
Enjoying the pontoon. When the weather is nice, we spend more time on the docked pontoon than just about anywhere else. This particular evening the crew got lucky when a group of deer and wild turkey came down to the lake for drinks.
Our first cabin rainbow. I don't need to explain why we were excited, even if it was just a partial rainbow.

This is what happens when a guest's loon calling more closely represents the call of another of god's creatures. You know who you are. Practice might not make perfect, but it won't call the dolphins.

This is our favorite eatery in Minong- The Longbranch. The long branch is home to Nikki, Nikki and Trixie- our fabulous wait staff. The food is pretty darn good but their great service keeps us coming back.

2. We stayed home this weekend. It was our first weekend home since the beginning of May.

Between thunderstorms, I went to the farmer's market. I love the farmers market this time of year- so many great colors and smells. I have missed it with all our cabin weekends and was thrilled to take it in.

Here I am at the Uptown Art Fair. Okay, you can tell that's not me because I don't have a scorpion tattooed by my navel. Actually, this is a life size "sculpture" but I just call it creepy. I don't know that the artist ever sells anything, but he sure draws a crowd. The artist strikes me as a little off- maybe necrophiliac or something. I didn't want to get too close, though I'm not dead yet so probably needn't worry.

3. I saw a beige squirrel on Saturday. I've seen gray, red, black and white, but never beige. It was pretty, but strange. Today we saw a gray squirrel with a big white, furry tip on its tail. This was our lucky squirrel weekend.

4. There is a great editorial about the "birthers" in the Star Tribune today. Birthers are the whack jobs that, despite all evidence to the contrary, continue to try to prove that President Obama wasn't born in Hawaii. The gist of the opinion piece was that these "birthers" are just masking their racism. I couldn't agree more. We have a president whose skin is darker than yours. Get the f*ck over it.

5. The job is frustrating and I'm thinking of seeing a career counselor. My brother tells me that if my goal is to make a high hourly rate, it would likely involve a hand job. He's terribly supportive.

6. 25 more days and we'll be on our way to our Mediterranean cruise. Doesn't seem real yet, but it will the night before when I've lost my passport and am scrambling and cursing while packing. Perhaps this trip I'll do some thoughtful planning.

7. Physical fitness is a problem. Not for everyone, but it is for me. I've been too mentally wrecked after work to do much of anything but be a lay about. *sigh* Must change.

Cabin Pride

2009-07-19T13:15:00.006-05:00

I know there are a lot of uber conservative freaks out there who think they have an idea of what the gays do when they get together- most of which is their fantasy, not ours. So, for my gentle readers, I have documented what utter depravity can happen when about 40 or so gay men and two very patient lesbians get together in the north woods of Wisconsin for Cabin Pride. On with the sickness and depravity:

These two are our friends Peter and Duane, co-hosts of the Cabin Pride festivities. Curt and I have known them for about 10 years. Wonderful guys who love dogs and have a cabin about 25 minutes from our own. Here is how the day went:

10:00 A.M.: Brunch at Peter & Duane's neighbors, Doug and Bill. Of course we had brunch. The gays invented brunch and we are proud of it.

11:00 A.M.: Parade!! Yes, we love a parade. This one was small but had many elements of bigger more populated parades. Here are some highlights.Every gay parade must start with a dyke on bike. This was no exception. This was Nell, of Nell & Laurie who live up the road from Doug & Bill. They are the sweetest things you could ever meet. She and Laurie have had a cabin in the woods for over 20 years. We're going to take them out bar hopping in Minong some evening. We might get in early that night as there are three bars in town, four if you count Grandma Links, which is like Perkins with beer.

Flag corps!! Fabulous! They spent several minutes before the parade started practicing their choreography and it showed. What they lacked in precision, they made up for in enthusiasm.

At the end of the cul de sac, they gave us some thrilling moves set to music. It consisted mostly of one guy barking out commands like "Circle! Flags up! Flags down! Maypole! Maypole!" and the others obeying. It was fun and lovely.

Every gay parade must have royalty. This was Ruby, Queen of the Bogs, from Stone Lake, WI, home of Cranberry Festival. She threw craisins instead of candy.

What Wisconsin event would be complete without a meat raffle? This gentleman was advertising for the event that would happen later in the day.

Here is the one and only float titled "Wisconsin Bait & Ballet." I'm not sure how the two go together, but it was a pretty float. The crowd went wild.

After several years of this, the straight neighbors had to join in. These are the token heterosexuals blowing kisses to the crowd.

12:00: GAMES!!If there are children watching, this would be the point where you might want to turn their little eyes away, because things get really out there and sick at this point. In this game, one partner had to put a plastic cup on his head, while the other partner had to blow a pink marshmallow out a tube with the objective of knocking the glass off the other's head. And they did this right out before God and everyone! Can you imagine?

Next was the water balloon toss. Here is Curt catching a water balloon. I had to use the sports setting on my camera to capture the fast paced action.

Here are more water balloon catchers.

2:00: Floating in the lake. CANCELLED due to crappy, cold weather. Instead, most of the crowd descended on a bar called the Crow Bar that is about 5 miles from anywhere on a highway somewhere in Wisconsin.

I was a little wary about 40 gay men just dropping in to take over their volley ball court and bar. But, you know what? Not one person in that bar deep in rural Wisconsin even flinched when we showed up, even the big guys with their mean looking girlfriends. The bartender even brought out two free rounds of frozen pudding shots for the crowd. And of course, the gays loved the place because mixed drinks were only $2 for regular liquor and $2.50 for top shelf liquor.

The bar even provided us with Polish horseshoes. I like that bar.

4:00: Meat raffle!!

The meat raffle was held back at Peter and Duane's place. It was basically meat bingo, but we let them call it a raffle anyway. Of course, the crowd went wild every single time O-69 was called. It's a tradition I guess.

After the meat raffle, was a fantastic dinner put together by Peter & Duane, followed by karaoke and dancing. Curt and I skipped out after dinner to go take care of the dogs. All in all a very satisfying day with very kind, fun people. How sick and twisted is that?

I Love a Parade

2009-07-12T18:50:00.003-05:00

It was a little too chilly to swim at the lake this weekend. So, Curt and I thought we might take in the Spooner Rodeo Days parade. Yee haw! Here are the "highlights." If you find no highlights, well, don't be surprised. Neither did we. But we did get a lot of candy thrown at us after looking sad and holding out our hands. Fun.
The parade started with lots and lots of horses. It was Rodeo Days after all. Lots of poop and a little pee and these dazzling chaps.

A huge military display followed the horses. Family friendly parade my ass!

Amery, WI has the laziest bunch of royalty ever. They couldn't even lift their elbows to wave. They may as well have been passed out in a pile of Schlitz cans and cigarette butts on that float. Boooo. At least they dressed up.

Bad ass with Fez. Apparently Shriners have left behind their little cars for a dancing scooters. They did some nice formations, but it just wasn't as fun as little cars. I'm guessing as the Shriners age it is harder to get in and out of the little cars. Next year, electric wheelchairs.

Did you see the pictures of this guy that I posted at my bird feeders earlier this year. Cool.

Huh. How was this pageant judged? SIZE PERHAPS??? That is wrong. Wrong.

Again, the fat girl got second runner up. Hmpf.

If I have to walk one more step in this god forsaken moose costume, I'll.....

Sadly, only two marching bands showed up for the parade. The hometown band sort of bit the bag. This one was much better. I love percussion sections.

This "royalty" float, celebrating white trash obviously, was a little funny. Why? Because the two crown losers, I mean runners up, at the front were doing this staged "seig heil" sort of wave really fast and the queen at the back of the float was saying "You're waving too fast! Too fast!" The losers laughed and waved faster. They hated their queen.

These sad sacks showed up in the the middle of all the merriment with the downer signs and an even worse singer being pulled on a garden cart singing some maudlin tune. The whole crowd rolled their eyes, dug in their purses, went to get beverages, except for one lady across the street who started clapping loudly. As you know, I'm fine with expressing one's beliefs, but pick the right place and time. Merriment is not the right time for this message. And what does that sign mean anyway? That you were desperate for a rhyme?

This was a pretty cow. I like cows.

We were two blocks in on the parade route and already these kids carried the unmistakable expressions that said "I'm booooooored. I'm hooooooooott. I'm tiiiiiired." Kid, you wanted to be in the damn parade, so shape up. Smile. Get with the program or I'll take the car aerial after you.

FINALLY, the judges got it right. Hefty royalty! HOLLA!!

This large princess was second runner up but looked like more fun than any of them combined. She was having a good old time on the float. Next year. Next year.

And that about sums up the parade. Not really exciting but I'm glad we went.

The Finished Product

2009-06-21T21:36:00.003-05:00

Last weekend I posted some befores and almost after pictures of the amazing work done by our friend Mr. MnMom (John) on our cabin. Well, this week, we got to see the finished product and dropped our jaws. It was far, far better than we could have imagined. Here are some after shots:We need to figure out what to do with all the wall we have now. Before we had one or two little pictures on the far wall. Now we need something a bit bigger. Any suggestions?
Our funky little north woods chandelier. No deer died in the making of this fixture.

The living room. Long and narrow is better with a high ceiling.

Another view of the living room with our fabulous new door looking out to the lake.

Because I Won't Scratch Her There...

2009-06-14T20:29:00.002-05:00

...she has to do it her self. Here is the closer up pic of Claire in full scoot that is referenced below. It is a little fuzzy, but look at her closed-eye bliss.

You May Know Him as Mr. MNMom (John)...

2009-06-14T17:23:00.004-05:00

...but we call him Anne Sullivan because he's a damn MIRACLE WORKER!! Okay, we don't call him that because that would just be annoying, and though he is a friend to the gays, having a girly name just doesn't really suit him.

So, not only does Mr. MNMom take a job 3 1/2 hours from his family for a whole week, he pulls off ridiculous amounts of work in just 5 days. There is still some painting and staining to be done, but you need to see some of these befores (taken at our inspection) and almost afters. I'll post more next weekend when the finishing touches are done. These are not our furnishings, just in case there was any confusion. :o)

BEFORE: Ceiling height at the wall with windows was about 6 feet or so. See the beams? That is painted insulation in between them. Everyone who toured the cabin stuck their fingers in the insulation. Not too pretty.

ALMOST AFTER: Wall height at the lake is around 7+ feet. Door height allows Curt to clear with inches to spare, where before the frame hit him square between the eyes. West wall slopes up to 11 feet. If you look closely you can see Claire just entering a full scoot on her behind. I'll blow it up later because she has a look of sheer bliss on her face, much like I do when I scratch my behind.

BEFORE: Again, low low ceiling height. Ugly light fixture. The wall at right was also painted insulation. Fugly. By the way, these beams on the ceiling were structural for the old roof. A few years back, the former owner had piled insulation on the old roof- held up by these beams- and put a new no maintenance metal roof on the place. John had to demo the entire old roof and remove about 20 inches of insulation. God bless him. That couldn't have been pleasant.

ALMOST AFTER: Amazing. We're replacing the ugly fixture with a north woods chandelier of deer antlers and wood. Fancy. Well, not completely fancy because the deer antlers aren't real. Real deer antler chandeliers cost a frickin' fortune. After two rounds of paint selection this weekend we settled on two colors- Arbitrary and Chic Beige for the accent walls. We had to find something that looked good with the two colors of stain on the pine- a little charming quirk we inherited.

BEFORE: Say hi to our friend Marina. If she is around, I make her model everything. I've got one of her modeling the fridge. She's a good sport. Anyway, a long narrow room with low ceilings made us tall boys feel a little claustrophobic. John also whacked his hand on the ceiling while doing a charade of the pope during a lively round of Celebrity. The low ceilings had to go.

ALMOST AFTER: Low ceiling gone. Built in shelf at the far end of the room- John's genius at work. All weekend, Curt and I just walked around with our jaws dropped at what had been accomplished. And he even did it all around all the wavy surfaces and logs for window frames and hornets nests and me e-mailing every 5 seconds. Incredible.

Mish Mash

2009-06-08T21:14:00.005-05:00

I return to blogging with a bunch of disconnected mish mash. Off we go...

1. The 5th floor men's restroom at work continues to horrify me. We've finally gotten rid of the boogers- it took me two maintenance requests. I'm sure by now I'm known to the maintenance staff as Booger Boy. Today, though, we reached a new low. I wandered in to the handicapped stall, which I typically do, because it is a little roomier and the toilet is higher. My worst fear of course would be that one day, I see a pair of impatient wheels roll up outside the stall and... never mind. I digress. So, anyway, I wander in to the stall and go to grab some paper for the seat, when what horror of horrors did I see? I'll tell you. All over the seat and completely covering the floor around the toilet were.... giant flakes of dead skin! Not just 20 or 30 flakes. Oh no. This was about 300-400 flakes. Not just little flakes, but big curled 1/2 inch flakes. *gagging* How does this happen? Does someone with a really dry butt seat on the seat and scratch their thighs while doing their business? I've never seen such a thing. Is there a doctor in the house? Feh. Now go eat some corn flakes.

2. The cabin has been an absolute joy. We've been having great weekends up north with the dogs. We have human visitors too. The MnMoms came for a visit over the Memorial Day weekend. If you're looking for the perfect guests, invite them over. Low maintenance and good food.

Here is MNMom herself and youngest offspring kayaking on the lake.

Here is Claire, Mr. MNMom (John) and the ever lovely Curt enjoying the early evening in front of the cabin.

3. Speaking of the MNMoms.... Mr. MNMom (John) is a craftsman extraordinaire. He just finished 4 projects at our house in Golden Valley and is up at the cabin for the week vaulting the ceilings in the dining room and living room. He has years in the home construction business and is meticulous about his work. I'll give you his number if you're in need of a contractor. Truly outstanding and a really nice guy to boot.

4. Sunday morning I was out kayaking on the lake and was the only person on the water. It was a pretty cool and misty morning so people must have just stayed inside or something. So, I paddled out to the middle of the lake, set down my paddle and sat there with my eyes closed for about 5 minutes. What an incredible sense of peace. Shortly thereafter, a bald eagle flew directly overhead across the lake. So I stood up in the kayak and started singing a rousing chorus of 'Proud to Be An American' and promptly flipped the kayak. Okay, that last part wasn't true, but I did see the bald eagle.

5. Speaking of that dreadful song, our friend M just returned from a quick vacation to Branson, MO where she saw a sextet of singers perform at one of the many theaters. At the end of the show, they made the audience stand while they sang "Proud To Be An American." Does that sound a little funky to you, too? I'm all for standing for the national anthem. I'm not at all about ascribing the same sense of respect to a pop song that capitalized on the war in Afghanistan after 9/11. I'm a little crabby about this. Maybe I should just let it go.

6. Work has been tough. Long days and difficult situations. *sigh* I signed up for this? MNMom agreed that I'm too old to be a hooker any more, or at least there is limited niche market for us chubby middle aged types. So, I guess I'll stick it out. I'm grateful to have a job that pays well and where I'm reasonably well liked. I just need to whine about it now and then.

7. I have been crying at estate sales lately. It just started this year. I see these pieces of people's lives that get left behind and tagged with a sticker for 50 cents and I'm just ruined. I particularly have a hard time with family pictures that get put up for sale, or framed degrees, or anything that I imagine was treasured in the lives of the people who lived there. This obviously has something to do with the difficulty my family has had in wrapping up my dad's estate and the drama over stuff. Sad. I miss my parents every day.

Windy day...

2009-05-20T17:53:00.002-05:00

So, have you ever been driving down the street on a really windy day and see that unfortunate person whose loose fitting clothing is blown tight up against every ripple, nipple and curve? And you think to yourself "Wow, that is a really unfortunate look." Yeah. Me too. Well, today 4th Avenue was a damn wind tunnel and I caught a glimpse of myself in a window being that unattractive wind blown person and quickly ducked in to the nearest building and opted for the skyway. Sad.

This just in from... where else? Texas, of course.

2009-05-18T16:47:00.003-05:00

Real news story out of Texas today:

A family in Texas is saying... they've found Jesus in a cheese snack.
A Dallas couple, Sarah and Dan Bell, were leaving town and stopped to fill up their tank with gas.
They went inside to grab some snacks, and picked up a bag of Cheetos brand cheese snacks.
Sarah was eating them out of her hand when she noticed one looked like someone in a robe praying...
Moreover, they say it looked like Jesus!
The two have decided to name the snack "Cheesus."
They joked about putting Cheesus on E-bay, but they say they'll probably just eat it anyway.

First Weekend at The Lake

2009-05-10T19:28:00.007-05:00

We're back from our first weekend up north as cabin owners. We're tired and very excited. At this moment though, mostly tired.

Friday we had our walk through and closing. We met the former owner, Jack, at the walk through. What a sweet old guy. He's 82. He and his wife retired to the cabin from Florida in 1985- a bit in reverse of most people. She died a few years back and he figured it was time to be closer to town. So, there we were. It felt a little strange and a little sad. In a way it felt like we were taking something away from him- the place where he and his wife spent their last years, where the grandkids came during the summer. He acknowledged at the closing that this was hard for him. We promised to take good care of the place and build lots of memories there. We also told him that if he ever needed to come out to see the place again, he is more than welcome. The whole interaction with Jack, of course, reminded me of how much I miss my dad. *sigh*

We spent the weekend, unpacking, arranging, rearranging, cleaning, shopping, getting to know the area. The weather could have been warmer, but we had a lot of inside work to do. Here are some highlights of the weekend:

1. Wildlife: Bald eagle, coyote, porcupine, muskrat, loons. If roadkill counted in this category, there would have been a few more on the list.

2. Pontoon boat: We are proud owners of the pontoon that came with the cabin. Curt and I took turns driving and landing the pontoon boat. Neither of us has ever driven, much less owned, a boat before. We figured we would practice while no one else was watching.

3. Queen size bed: Learning to sleep with Curt in a queen size bed on weekends is going to be tricky. We've got a king at home. Cozy is nice, but give us some limb room.

4. Gayest thing that came out of my mouth all weekend: "We REALLY need dust ruffles."

5. "Celebrity" encounter: Jeff Passolt from channel 9 news was at the marine store in Minong behind us in line. He owns on the lake next to us. Seems to be a nice guy. Curt and I decided he was pretty hot. He was shorter than expected and has that giant melon that is so typical of news anchors, but hot for a guy who's probably 50 or so.

6. Up North T-Shirts: We couldn't not buy them. They were at the gift shop in Minong. Here is mine:

Here is Curt's:

7. Kayak: I am so glad I bought the kayak. We each took it out for a run this morning. It was about 45 degrees, but I was hell bent on getting in the kayak. I'm going to love this. I picture myself on warmer mornings filling a travel mug with coffee, popping it in the drink holder and taking off across the lake and back. Aaaaaaah. Relaxing. Here is Curt in the kayak

Now all we need up north is you! Come for a visit!

Suburban Wildlife

2009-05-07T17:25:00.003-05:00

This is Mr. & Mrs. Mallard who have taken a shine to our tiny little back yard pond. Sometimes they are out there swimming around at 6 a.m. Other days they show up around 7 p.m. and swim around and preen until the dogs chase them out. We don't mind as long as they don't try to lay eggs in the yard. That would be foolish. They don't strike me as particularly bright, but I love the duckies anyway.

She's a Blur

2009-04-22T22:06:00.000-05:00

25 lbs of floppy happiness running at full tilt. Dogs are an absolute joy.

Today's Birdies

2009-04-12T20:09:00.005-05:00

This morning I decided it was pretty enough for me to venture outside with my camera to try to capture images of birdies at the feeders. I set up my blind on the deck. Okay, it wasn't a blind. It was me sitting on the deck between two patio chairs, but I felt a little like Marlin Perkins. So, it was a blind, okay. Anyway, here are the birdies that I was actually able catch on film:

This little fellow is a Downy Woodpecker. We've named all our Downy Woodpeckers Robert or Roberta.

This is a little American Goldfinch. He is in mid-molt. The American Goldfinch is the only finch that molts twice: once in the autumn to turn brown for winter and once in the spring to turn yellow (males) or olive (females) for summer.

I think this is a Pine Siskin. He jumped into the deck mounted bird bath about three feet from my head. Cute little thing he is.

This American Robin stopped for a drink at the pond. He/she was singing in a nearby tree for about a half hour before coming coming down for a drink. Robins have a gorgeous song. I heart robins.
Say hello again to my little friend. This is the male Pileated Woodpecker that visited us on Friday. Pretty, pretty. Curt and I ooohed and aaahed again. We'll never get tired of this bird. So cool to see a woodpecker as big as a crow.

WOODPECKERS EVERYWHERE!!!

2009-04-10T18:57:00.003-05:00

HOLY CRAP! TODAY IS THE BEST DAY EVER! I'M YELLING! I'M SORRY! I CAN'T HELP IT! WHY AM I YELLING? BECAUSE THE PILEATED WOODPECKER SHOWED UP AGAIN AND HE BROUGHT HIS WIFE!!! TWO PILEATEDS IN ONE FRICKIN' DAY!! OH MY GOD!

HERE IS MR. WOODPECKER:

HERE IS HIS WIFE: (NOTE THAT SHE DOESN'T HAVE RED ON HER CHEEKS)

Okay. I can die happy now.

Thank Heavens The Blade Wasn't Running

2009-04-10T17:55:00.003-05:00

A few observations about this delightful news story out of Hutchinson MN:

1. Of course he pulled in to a trailer park.
2. You've got to be pretty damn drunk to hit traffic cones on a riding mower. You just can't go that fast.
3. Whoever wrote "public display of bladder relief" should either get a trophy or be flogged. I can't decide.
4. He must have grown up in Wisconsin. We just don't grow them like this over here.

Charges: Drunken mower rider buys beer, resumes wild ride
A 42-year-old man is accused of being drunk while driving his riding lawn mower to a SuperAmerica in Hutchinson, Minn., buying beer and then zigzagging along city streets on a ride that included a public display of bladder relief.
Darwin L. Christensen, of Hutchinson, was charged today in McLeod County District Court with drunken driving and urinating in public. A breath test indicated that his blood alcohol level was .21 percent, far above the limit used to determine drunkenness in DWI cases.
Christensen is no stranger to overdrinking and operating a motor vehicle. State records show he has pleaded guilty at least four times, twice each in 1986 and 1996, to drunken driving. His rap sheet also includes convictions for disorderly conduct, fleeing a police officer, felony property damage and felony burglary.
According to the criminal complaint:
Police received a report at about 6:20 p.m. Thursday of a suspected intoxicated man driving a lawn mower. The witness reported seeing the man buy beer at a SuperAmerica, then head north on School Road on the mower.
The man was seen running over two orange cones on the road, swerving within his lane and changing speeds.
After turning onto N. High Drive, he stopped, got off the mower and urinated on the side of the road while throwing a beer can into the ditch.
He then resumed his mower travels into a mobile home park.
Police approached Christensen outside, and noticed the smell of alcohol on his breath, stumbling and slurring his speech. He admitted that he had just been at the store with his mower and had urinated in public.

How Could Today Get Any Better?

2009-04-10T08:45:00.004-05:00

So, I just finished posting pictures of the new cabin to the blog when I looked out to the bird feeders. What, oh what, did I see? Just the bird I have been waiting all winter long to catch a glimpse of at our feeders. Yes, it's true. I had a Pileated Woodpecker at the feeder log! WOOO HOOOOOO! I should just go back to bed, because I can't think of much that could top this today. Maybe I should buy lottery tickets. Oh, and I caught a picture of him, too. It isn't the best photo, but you'll get the idea.

So Excited I'm Running Around With Jazz Hands

2009-04-10T06:42:00.005-05:00

Curt and I have taken the plunge and are purchasing a cute little cabin about 2 1/2 hours away in northwest Wisconsin. Real estate prices have come down to a point where even the two of us felt we couldn't pass up the opportunity to override our cheap Scandinavian sensibilities and make an investment that we will also enjoy. We are excited to the point that we're going to bed talking about the cabin and waking up talking about the cabin. And when no one is looking I erupt into jazz hands. Wooooo! So, here are some pictures that I took at the inspection yesterday.
This is a view from just outside the front door looking east. The lake is basically a big bowl of sand filled with water. I'm told the water stays crystal clear all summer and weediness isn't much of a problem here. Get out your thongs! We're going swimming!

This is the front side of the cabin. It is an old 30's fishing cabin. So, naturally, it is small and quirky and cute. The current owner has lived there for 23 years. He's in his 80's now and is moving to a town nearby. It is so clear from the condition of the place that he has loved, loved, loved the place.

This is the back side of the cabin. In 2002, the owner added this two car heated garage with a 13 x 25 ft sleeping loft with a 3/4 bath on top. This is a sweet feature for us. Lots of storage and it is connected directly to the rest of the cabin.

This is what you see when you sit on the sofa in the living room. This view doesn't suck at all. I suspect the sofa will have a permanent giant ass indentation from my over use of the view.

This is the old pontoon boat that is included in the deal. Sweet. It is about 30 years old and not pimped out like the modern pontooons, but it floats and that is all that matters. Oh, and get this- the owner called the real estate agent while we were there and asked her "Do you think the boys who are buying the place would like it if I set up the dock and got the pontoon in before closing?" How sweet is that and, uh, YES! We would love that!

This is one end of the sleeping loft. I love it up there. The door goes out to a small balcony overlooking the driveway.

This is the view from the sleeping loft. This view doesn't suck either. Sweet!

This is the cutie pie little kitchen. It is tiny, but so clean and well preserved that it adds to the charm of the place. Who needs a big gourmet kitchen at the lake anyway, right?

This is a pair of male mallards that I caught flying across the lake. Two boys together. It was a sign.

All are welcome. So, when are you all coming up??

Divorced White Female, Eats Children...

2009-04-06T07:03:00.004-05:00

I hit a good number of estate sales here in west metro. I rarely buy anything. Mostly, I'm just nosey and curious about an occasional bargain. This weekend, while scanning the online estate sale ads, I came across the picture below. I didn't go to this sale because, frankly, I would have been scared shitless. So, my friends, put on your FBI profiler hat and give me a personality profile of the serial killer that lives here: UPDATE:

Here is the bedroom. Not as offensive until you look at the pillow with the two faces. Also, what is the business of hanging gold rimmed mirrors at the top of the wall. She did it in the living room too.

Furry Devils

2009-03-29T10:58:00.003-05:00

Negotiating with squirrels is pointless. So, I try to baffle them instead. Yet, they still find a way to reach the bird feeders. I have installed a squirrel baffle to the recommended 5 feet. It is apparently not so baffling that they can't climb up three feet on the bird feeder pole, leap 3 feet through the air on to the lowest hanging feeder and eat to their furry little heart's content.
My solution: Poodle. Louis loves to chase the squirrels and gets wild eyed when I even say the word "squirrel." Now, if a squirrel is on the bird feeders, I go to the door, whisper "squirrel!" with some urgency and release the snarling squirrel hunter. Part of the fun is that Louis is absolutely determined to catch one. He puts his head down and runs with all his might after the little bastards. It's pretty cute. He hasn't caught one yet, and I honestly don't know what would happen if he did. I would probably scream like a girl, then try to figure it out. Good in a crisis. That's me.

Cranky Randomness

2009-03-27T17:25:00.002-05:00

1. American Idol: Isn't there an age limit on leather pants? Seeing 70 year old Smokey Robinson sitting there in brown leather pants just about made me throw up. Leather pants barely look good on the young. Drop your pants, Smokey.

2. On a similar note, today is Mariah Carey's 39 birthday. Happy Birthday, Mariah. Now go and dress your age. Go on. Put on some pants and a top that covers your belly, boobs and shoulders. No one in the demographic your music appeals to wants to see mommy-age titty and ass. And if they do, they're a little off, even for young people.

3. Could you just about strangle the Pope? This man shows up in Africa, a continent completely ravaged by HIV/AIDS and the first words out of his wrinkly old pie hole are that condoms are not the answer to fighting HIV/AIDS. What did he propose? Why, of course, abstinence. Because that has worked so well. Welcome to this century, dude. Whether you like it or not, people might just choose to have sex and if they choose to have sex, sin or no sin, why not give a blessing to protecting themselves and their families from this virus.

4. How much money would you give to someone who has treated you like shit if they signed an asshole waiver? You know, "I, so and so, am a big stinky asshole..." In one case in particular, I might give them thousands, then post it on a billboard just to prove my point. Or would that make me an asshole too? Two assholes don't make a right, or something like that.

5. Ramping up in my new job has been hard. Waaa waaa waaa. I'm done whining now and have returned to being really, really, really darn happy to have a good job at a great company in this particularly crappy economy.

6. Not so cranky: I have lost 18.5 lbs. Hallelujah! In celebration, I think I may have put back about 2 or 3 of those this week.

7. Why are politicians who are criticizing the greed of corporate America continuing to take political contributions from those companies? Hmmmmm. Can't say I'm surprised.

8. Norm Coleman, you suck. Just give it up already. Oh, and are the revelations about those funky, suspicious contributions from wealthy benefactors during the campaign going to help you decide not to appeal when Al is declared the winner? Pleeeaase, get a grip.

9. Back to American Idol: Danny Gokey, go home. You're a wanna be in decent frames.

Me: 0 Poodle: 1

2009-03-17T06:28:00.002-05:00

Getting a good night of uninterrupted sleep at the G-O casa has been a little scarce lately. Why, you ask? The culprit is a darling little 12 year old black miniature poodle named Louis. Louis has always slept with me, then us when we bought our house together. Until recently, this has not been a big problem. He's small, we're big. He's the dog, we're the people. This is how it should be.
Not anymore. Lately, it seems that instead of us allowing Louis to sleep in our bed, Louis seems to think that he is allowing us to sleep in his bed and with his rules. So, what has been happening is that when we roll over and pull the blankets, he is disturbed and growls. Or, worse yet, if we push him away with our legs when he is being a little bed hog, he really growls and gets ugly. Bad, bad, bad.
So, on Sunday night, I moved and pushed Louis and he went all growly ugly face on me. I had had enough. I sat up, and pushed him off the end of the bed on to the bench and told him "Off the bed!" (He knows what this means.) He immediately hopped back up and went to Curt's side of the bed. I reached over and picked him up. All hell broke loose- snarling, growling, squirming. So, I did my dominance thing and put him on his back, held him down until he calmed down, then told him "off the bed" and moved him to the bench. Silence and humility ensued. He apparently snuck back on to the bed on Curt's side later in the night, but without so much as a peep when Curt turned over.
Last night when we went to bed, I thought "Ah, the sweet silence of victory over poodle awaits me." Wrong. The growls were smaller, but still there. My next move is to trick him off the bed with a heated dog bed on the bench. He loves anything heated. We'll see how this goes.

...And On a Related Note

2009-03-11T18:42:00.002-05:00

A very funny SNL commercial at Funny or Die. Click here ----> Homocil It might take a second or two to load the video, but it's worth it. I think my parents could have used some of this.

Thank You, Madame Leiderhosen

2009-03-11T18:31:00.001-05:00

...for this hysterical video. Don't we all occasionally want to slap a Pollyanna?

Not If He Were The Last Man On Earth

2009-03-09T18:25:00.001-05:00

This man makes me want to buy a gun every time he comes on TV and screams about some great new product. OxiClean and Orange Glo can suck it.

Naughty naughty

2009-03-07T10:20:00.002-06:00

This just in from Wisconsin, which is really no surprise considering everything strange, perverse, bizarre and grotesque seems to happen there. I think it is all the beer fumes.

WAUKESHA, Wis. - A New Berlin student accused of blackmailing other boys for sex in a scam that started on Facebook plans to plead not guilty on Monday.
Anthony Stancl is accused of posing as a girl on the social networking site and tricking his classmates into sending him naked photos of themselves. A criminal complaint says the 18-year-old then used the photos to blackmail the boys for sex acts.
Defense attorney Craig Kuhary says Stancl will plead not guilty during an arraignment Monday morning.
Kuhary previously said they would be open to talking about a plea agreement. He says he wants to see the state's evidence before deciding whether to begin discussions

Despite Rumors To The Contrary...

2009-03-01T15:54:00.003-06:00

...I am easily pleased and amused. All you have to do is put me in front of pretty things or cute baby animals and I'm happy, happy, happy. In between Curt's volleyball matches, I've been trotting off to various attractions around St. Louis. Yesterday, I took in the orchid show at the Missouri Botanical Gardens and got lots of pretty pictures including the one above. I love flowers. Pretty.

Today, I ran across the highway to the zoo. Not much was on display unfortunately. However, I did get to see Emperor Penguins up close. Very pretty. Best of all, I got to see a baby ring tailed lemur clinging to it's mother. That was it. I could have been shit on and run over by a truck and still have been happy for the rest of the day. Monkeys are sweet. Baby monkeys are even sweeter and last the whole day.

A Botched Phlebotomy Is Better...

2009-02-27T21:41:00.002-06:00

...than a botched lobotomy I guess. This is the positive spin I'm putting on my shitty visit for my blood letting on Thursday afternoon. So here's how the appointment went:

I arrived five minutes early for my appointment at the cancer center. This is always weird for me. It is technically an oncology/hematology clinic, but cancer center I guess has a nicer ring? 50 minutes later, I approach the innocent receptionist and kindly ask when I might be seen for my blood letting. She says she doesn't know and that they must be running behind. Wrong answer. I did not raise my voice (progress), but did make it clear that if I had the courtesy to arrive on time for my appointment, the least she could do is give me a real answer as to when I might be seen 45 minutes after my appointment time had passed. Damn. She jumped up and went back to check. In the mean time, having read every other bit of Popular Mechanics, here is what I learned from the back cover:

1. This is the 75th anniversary of Skoal "smokeless tobacco" (chew).
2. A chew is called a "dip."
3. A man who chews is called a "dipper."
4. Apparently dipping unites men into a smokeless tobacco "brotherhood."
5. Apparently there are some big events for dippers this year to celebrate the 75th anniversary of Skoal.
6. Smokeless tobacco does not require the same warning labels as cigarettes. There was nothing on the advertisement that says "Cancer from smokeless tobacco will require lip-ectomy, throat-ectomy, tongue-ectomy and jaw-ectomy." Didn't say it anywhere.

So, after waiting another 10 minutes, I'm finally called back to have my blood letting. I've got an ass kicking cold too, so I'm already unhappy. But, the fact that my dear Donna, the only woman who can find my veins in the Twin Cities, is not working, strikes fear in me- with good reason.

Nurse 1: tries to find a vein in my mid forearm. No luck. Then tries in my hand. Finds a vein, gets a few drops of blood, blood stops, she digs around and it hurts like all hell. She stops and calls over nurse 2.

Nurse 2: tries to find a vein at my elbow on my right arm. She ties the tourniquet tighter and tries again. No luck. SHIT! LOOK AT THAT! A lump standing about 1 inch off my hand has grown under the skin at the site of Nurse #1's failed attempt on my hand. Oops says nurse #2 and asks me to apply pressure with my left hand. She goes to get nurse #3.

Nurse 3: tries to find a vein near the elbow of my left arm. Marginal success. Is able to get the blood to flow in short spurts then it stops all together. She removes the needle and we give up having retrieved about 1/3 of the blood we need.

Today, I have a brownish red, raised up bruise covering almost the entire back of my right hand. Just above my left elbow is a lump and a big ugly bruise forming there too. Not pretty. On the bright side, no one needs to look closely at me, draw me in an art class, and I have no hand modeling gigs. My cold is also getting marginally better, I am in St. Louis, MO for the weekend and have nothing to do but lay about. Not so bad after all.

Purge in Progress: Flash Update

2009-02-21T09:59:00.002-06:00

Oops. I came across more sweaters. Now I have 31. 11 of which are gray. F*CK!

Purge in Progress: Update #1

2009-02-21T09:55:00.004-06:00

Holy crapoly! Thus far I have three grocery bags full of stuff to donate and still have two beds- a king and a queen- covered with my clothes, and not all my clothes. This time I'm going to get rid of some more shoes too.

Here's a question: How many sweaters does an adult male need? I have 26. 9 of these are gray. Somebody help me!!!

Progress? I'm sorta not sure.

2009-02-20T17:18:00.002-06:00

This today from the Associated Press. You know there is at least one pissed off sorority sister on campus today. I guess the fact that he wasn't beaten or killed by the basketball team after the game is, indeed, progress.

George Mason picks drag queen as homecoming queen
52 minutes ago
FAIRFAX, Va. (AP) — George Mason University senior Ryan Allen dresses in drag and doesn't mind being called a queen — homecoming queen, to be exact. Allen, who is gay and performs in drag at nightclubs in the region, said he entered the homecoming contest as a joke, competing as Reann Ballslee, his drag queen persona.
But he considers the victory one of his happiest moments and proof that the suburban Washington, D.C., school famous for its run to the Final Four a few years back celebrates its diverse student body.
"I was very touched by how Mason was so supportive through the whole process of allowing a boy in a dress to run for homecoming queen," Allen said in a phone interview. "It says a lot about the campus that not only do we have diversity but we celebrate it."
The senior from Virginia's Goochland County won the pageant Saturday at a sold-out Homecoming basketball game against Northeastern University.
Large portions of the crowd cheered as Allen, wearing a gold-sequined top, accepted the tiara and the Ms. Mason 2009 sash.
The school, known for racial diversity and a basketball team that pulled off a string of upsets to advance to the Final Four in 2006, was selected the nation's top "school to watch" in the most recent U.S. News and World Report rankings.
Allen's selection does not appear to have caused much consternation among the school's 30,000 undergraduate and graduate students. An online article in the student newspaper prompted only two comments, both positive.
Alyssa Cordova, an officer with the school's College Republicans, said she didn't pay much attention to Allen's election and is suprised by the media attention it has received.
"I just think it's kind of silly," she said.
Mara Keisling, executive director of the National Center for Transgender Equity and a former adjunct professor at Mason, said the lack of controversy "shows that the students and the George Mason community have a good sense of perspective."
University spokesman Dan Walsch said the school is "very comfortable" with Allen's selection and the contest rules are not sex-specific.
"It's just that if you're a man who runs for Ms., you've got to dress the part," Walsch said.
The contest was half talent judging and half voting by the student body. Allen received the most votes but doesn't know how he scored in the talent competition, in which he performed in zebra-print pants and lip-synched to Britney Spears.
He said his drag queen persona is fairly popular and well-known on campus — he has hosted events as Reann for the school's Pride Week, as well as HIV charity shows and an amateur drag night cabaret.
"Reann is very sassy, very silly. She's an entertainer throughout. She's not afraid to do a high kick if that's what it takes," Allen said. "She's got a little camp but is not as campy as some queens."

The Purge Part II

2009-02-20T07:13:00.002-06:00

I have too much stuff. Way too much stuff. About a month ago, I purged the closets in the lower level of stuff that I've been storing for years and years. This weekend, I am going to embark on PURGE II, The Bloodier Sequel. This time, I'm going after things that I've had in plain sight in the upper level closets and drawers. I estimate that I have probably about 50 -60 t-shirts, but wear about 10 of them. I have loads of skinny clothes. If I lose weight I know that I'll want new skinny clothes. So, out they go! This is just the beginning. I am tired of my own self induced clutter. Done. Listo. Finito. I'll let you know how it goes.

Office Hero Update

2009-02-18T22:30:00.002-06:00

Today, Joe (office hero) told C and I that he was a little afraid to go to the bahroom. C then asked Joe if he had bowel movements now with a hammer and frying pan in each hand, then made smashing motions. She is out of control.

Early Birds

2009-02-17T21:44:00.002-06:00

Today, I got back around 2:00 to do some work from home. It's quieter and I fidget less at home. Anyway, that isn't the point. The point is that when I looked out the window, there were 4 robins sitting on the lawn. They usually don't make an appearance here until late march. But, it got even more strange. I looked up in the trees and there are about 25 robins hanging out, flying around and singing at the top of their lungs. I know some robins have begun to hang out here for winter, but 25 of them and in my back yard? Global warming. Yup. Global frickin warming. Curt would say that I need to release less gas into the environment, but I don't think that is much of a factor. (There is another blogger that I'm a little worried about on that front. Eh hem.) As a minor bird enthusiast, I've been reading a lot about species that are migrating further north than usual and not migrating or only migrating this far south in winter. Robins in Minnesota in February 20 years ago were unheard of. Makes one think. Hmmmm.

The New Office Hero

2009-02-16T17:54:00.005-06:00

At about 1:00, the benevolent C bursts into my office and says "Have you talked to Joe Blo yet?!?!?!" (Name changed to protect the innocent.) I said no and asked what's up. C says that she can't tell me, impatiently looks around for Joe, looks back at me and says "I better go get him!" and runs away at full speed.
A few minutes later she reappears and proclaims "I can't find him, but he has to talk to you."
"About what?"
"I can't say, but it's really cool?"
"Well, C, the only thing worth this excitement would be that he has a parasitic twin on his back with gnashing teeth."
C gets really a really excited look on her face and says "Not quite, but almost!"
This launches me out of my chair and we embark on a quest for Joe Blo, who we find in his office. So here's what C was so excited about:

9 months ago, Joe went to Egypt with a friend and came back with some gastrointestinal distress. He and I had talked about it about a month ago and all the things he's tried to alleviate the weird symptoms. Anyway, he finally lands in the hospital last week and the doctors eventually do a CT scan on his abdomen and find..... get ready... you're going to love this....

GIANT INTESTINAL ROUNDWORMS!!!!

He told us that the doctor could see some that measured about 15 inches. Oh my god. Better yet, he explained that when they lay eggs, the larvae enter the bloodstream, go to the lungs and get coughed up and swallowed back into the gut to live out their lives. Eeewww! Best of all, he said he could feel them moving around in his gut. Motherlode!!! We were enthralled to say the least! However, apparently these little bastards can be quite dangerous, causing intestinal blockages, etc. Worse yet, since they are in his gut, his blood, his lungs, etc., he has to be treated with a drug that is basically chemotherapy with all the nasty-lose-your-hair-with-nausea-to-boot side effects. C and I walked away, quite satisfied with our cheap thrill, vowed not to treat him as a circus sideshow and quietly returned to work.

Vacation Miscellany

2009-02-14T08:08:00.002-06:00

Booo hooo hooo. This is our last day in Puerto Vallarta. As always, we've had a marvelous time full of well, not much, which is precisely what makes these vacations so damn wonderful. Our schedule has basically been: lay around, eat, lay around some more, eat, lay around yet some more, eat, walk somewhere for dessert, go to bed. Sweet. Here are some miscellaneous vacation thoughts:
1. On the plane down a woman, around 70, boarded the plane with a BeDazzled t-shirt depicting a big shiny martini glass, bright red lipstick and a sporty blond yes-I-can-beat-you-to-the-bar-in-5-minutes-or-less hairstyle. I prayed she would sit next to me. She didn't. Instead I sat next to a fidgety guy with an i-pod. Booooooring.
2. Best tattoo: Yesterday, on Diana's Big Gay Boat Ride (not it's official name, but should be), there was a lovely man in a Lacoste long sleeved gray t-shirt with the traditional alligator embroidered on the left chest of the garment. He took off the t-shirt and had a little Lacoste alligator tattooed on his left pec. Hooray!
3. Last night at dinner, a mariachi trio was playing some song and we were hopelessly ill equipped to figure out the lyrics. We didn't want to miss out on singing along, so we determined the chorus sounded like "One Ton Tomato" and sang along anyway. One Ton Tomaaaaaaaato. It was nice.
4. We brought Curt's sister and her boyfriend on Diana's Big Gay Boat Ride yesterday. Diana is a fabulous 50 something , 4'10" French Canadian dyke who loves her bitches (us) and has a wicked laugh. We pulled into a cove for some swimming, the boyfriend, in line to go to the bathroom, asks Diana what we were going to do here. Without hesitating, Diana says, "This is where we kill you and leave your bodies", lets loose one of her wicked cackles and strolls away. We love Diana.
5. We played pool volleyball a few times with this group of guys on a corporate incentive trip. The boss, a guy in his late 30's, was getting a wee bit looped and occasionally referred to his underlings on the other side of the net as homos. Not so cool, but done in the same way that kids say "that's so gay"- meaningless but stupid, none the less. Anyway, the drunker he got, the more he engaged in horseplay- grabbing, wrestling- with his underlings, who were cute guys in their mid to late 20's. Hmmmmmmm. Suspicious behavior, and a little hot too.
6. Swim suit advice for men: Leave some room for mystery when picking a swim suit. If onlookers can assess the quality of the work done on your cirucumcision, the suit is too tight. Oh, and thongs don't look good on anyone. If you are in your 50's, this is more true for you than anyone else.

Greetings from Puerto Vallarta

2009-02-09T07:11:00.002-06:00

Hola Amigos! We arrived in PV on Saturday evening and have been having a marvelous time. One of the things that keeps us coming back is the exceptional restaurants. Last night I had the most amazing octopus I´ve ever had. It was seasoned then seared so the skin was crispy and flavorful and the meat was tender and juicy. It was incredible. It was served on a stew of potatoe, fresh green beans, tomato and chorizo. Un-frickin-believable. We heart the seafood down here.
We´ve already developed one bad eating habit- Choco-Bananas with toasted coconut. Holy crap. These are as they sound- frozen bananas with chocolate- except these are made fresh while you wait, dipped in a thick dark chocolate and rolled around in the crispiest, tastiest toasted coconut you´ve ever had . Holy cow. We´ve had one after each dinner out. This could get dangerous.
One strange thing. I think sleeping on a different bed has made my dreaming a little freaky. I woke up Sunday morning with these words on my lips "This little guy is the only species of sand beaver here in Mexico." It was like I was going to say them aloud. I think I was running my own little National Geographic special in my head. Last night I had a dream that I was doing a stand-in acting bit on Frasier. The problem was that they had replaced the father with a very fey man in his early 30's. I lost the job because every time he opened his mouth I was caught up in uncontrollable laughter. ¿Is this internalized homophobia? <--- look at the fancy puncutation my Mexican keyboard can do. I love it.
Today we´re planning to take the water taxi over to Yelapa for a day of relaxation on a great beach on the southern end of the bay. They also make pie over there. Mmmmm. Pie.

The Flatulent Wildcat

2009-02-06T18:21:00.004-06:00

This week, the benevolent C revealed to me that she has taken a younger lover. She is 44. He is 26. She told me that he guessed her age to be 30. I suspect her pants came off by the time he reached the second syllable of thir-ty. I mean, really, whose wouldn't? He is either a little clueless or very, very clever. We celebrated the fact that she is now officially a cougar, though she said she would rather be a MILF (as if there is more dignity in that). I had to remind her that she has no children. She decided she's happy with cougar because with her karma she knows her children would have two heads, possibly more. I suspect that with our fetus-in-fetu fascination, she might be right. Then in the next breath, she told me that she has been having horrible gas- the kind that peels paint. I had to ask her to remind me why she's been single for so long.

I will not

2009-02-03T21:09:00.003-06:00

...use my blog for evil. I will not use my blog for evil. I will not use my blog for evil. I will not use my blog for evil.

Evil is such a strong word. Hmmmm. Perhaps a bit of mischief? I'll save it for another day.

Super Bowl: My Observations

2009-02-01T21:59:00.003-06:00

1. Curt Warner's wife sure doesn't look like the spiky haired lesbian she did 10 years ago. What happened? I liked that look because I imagined her making Curt her pantie-clad bitch at home.

2. The Cardinals pants fit better than the Steelers pants. Lots better.

3. When the announcers say things like "He always manages to get penetration," I have to suppress the 12 year old within from giggling.

4. There was a good amount of skipping, grabbing of butts, man piles and hugging. Nice.

5. Why more players don't find an excuse to pat Larry Fitzgeralds fine butt is beyond me.

6. If the Vikings aren't playing, I tend to root for the team with the cutest quarterback. I was rooting for the Cardinals this year.

7. Two commercials stuck with me: The Doritos crystal ball and the Budweiser Clydesdale pursuing Daisy the dancing horse. I like nacho cheese and animals.

Friday Thoughts

2009-01-30T17:45:00.001-06:00

1. Very shortly my 43rd birthday will be over. That's okay. It was a good day.

2. My soon to be former boss and his senior leaders surprised me today. They gave me a send off gift of a $100 gift card to Kincaids and a really sweet card filled with nice words from them. That was unexpected and very thoughtful. I'm not even leaving the department. I'll just be in a different position that doesn't work directly with that group any more. It's nice to be missed in advance. I take back almost all the horrible things I've ever said about them.

3. Curt and I went to see Spring Awakening tonight. I really liked it, but didn't love it. At intermission, Curt and I both looked at each other and said almost in unison "Does Martha look like Mary Katherine Gallaghers best friend in Superstar?" We were both half expecting her to sing her song about incest with a lateral syllable displacement while knocking girls down with a basketball.

4. We have a foreign contractor in the office who hasn't discovered the proper etiquette about the amount of cologne to wear to work. Holy shit. You can smell him for a long, long time after he has left the area. One need not be a bloodhound to find this guy.

5. I have a massage appointment tomorrow morning with my new favorite therapist Conan. Despite the name, Conan is a spritely little fellow whose hands get really excited when he comes across a knot in my back. His trigger point work is flawless. I've also had facialists at the same place get really excited when they find a blackhead to extract. They clearly interview for passion.

6. Facebook, while fun, can be kind of a time sucker. I'm visiting with people I haven't visited with in a long time, so that's cool. And, I posted a zitty photo of my self from the 10th grade with a friends permed afro photoshopped over my own hair. I thought it was really funny until I got a message in my inbox that proclaimed "I remember that perm on you!" Shit.

Who knew?

2009-01-29T20:00:00.006-06:00

Have any of you happened to you out to www.urbandictionary.com, my brother D's favorite brain building site, to look for your last name, particularly if it is kind of unusual? Mine is out there with 4 definitions that aren't particularly appealing. Thankfully, judging from the number of votes, my last name will never catch on as a popular term for a sex act- see definition #4. Whew. Now for the rest of you, one of you is "the smelly kid in class or a cheap vodka." Another of you is "a douche bag Chemistry teacher." Another of you is "an attempt to discreetly scratch one's breast when it itches in public." And yet another is "a tall, norwegian, slack-jawed yokel." Allegedly. I refuse to believe any of this is true.

Polite, Politer, Politest

2009-01-28T20:24:00.002-06:00

Working with the Lutherans has its benefits and its drawbacks. One benefit is that people are generally really, really kind and polite with one another. One drawback can be that people are really, really kind and polite with one another. This manifests itself in many ways, most often passive aggressive tendencies, but that is a whole other matter. More benignly, it manifests itself in places like the elevator. The Lutherans will hold the door for someone coming 30 yards across the lobby, will make room for just one more and, worst of all, when two people are getting out on the same floor, will always let the other person exit first. This can erupt into polite wars. By this I mean both people will start for the door and both will stop. One will say "After you." The other says "No, really, after you." They both chuckle, start for the door at the same time, stop again, chuckle and one says "After you" until finally after several fits and starts one will make it through the door.
So, this happened to me when I arrived on the lobby floor with another person. The door opens. There are people waiting. A polite war ensues. Fortunately, an outsider (read not Lutheran)- we'll call her Abbie, a gorgeous Asian woman who is as big as a key chain and looks like a million bucks everyday- is standing outside the door. She immediately recognizes the polite war, looks at us menacingly and very near the top of her lungs yells "GET OUT! GET OUT!" and proceeds to shoo us from the elevator. I started laughing and exited. The other Lutheran onlookers looked at Abbie like she had ridden in on her broom, but of course said nothing. Abbie is my new folk hero.

The Meanest Thing: Judge Me

2009-01-26T18:33:00.004-06:00

CP has a meme on his blog for which I can't answer all the questions. The answer to #1 alone is too complex and I went all Bill Clinton in trying to figure out how to answer it and nobody wants to hear that anyway. The piece of the meme that I thought I would take up here has to do with the meanest thing I've ever done. I've occasionally done some mean things I think and have tried to make amends as needed. However, with this one, the problem is that I'm not sure that it is really mean or just appropriate payback. I'll let you be the judge. MNMom, Cheesecake and Little Sister, I want you to weigh in here too since you know of whom I write.
Anyway, it is 1986 - 88 and I'm living in Iowa City. Cash machines must have been a relatively new concept because there didn't seem to be many around. The best one for students was on the main floor of the Capitol City mall and there was always always a long line between classes. It seemed that every time I got in line, so did a blind man- we'll call him Tim. Tim would find the end of the line- I don't know how he did it or how many people he beat with his cane on the way there- and stand back there and yell "I'M A BLIND MAN AND NEED TO GO TO THE FRONT OF THE LINE! I'M BLIND. WOULD YOU PLEASE LET ME GO TO THE FRONT OF THE LINE? IT TAKES ME LONGER TO GET TO CLASS AND I NEED TO GO TO THE FRONT OF THE LINE!"
Of course, being from a small town without a lot of exposure to people with disabilities, I let him go ahead of me the first time. After that it just got obnoxious and there were usually 4 or 5 people ahead of Tim who just stood there in uncomfortable silence. If there was no response, Tim would tap at the back of the line with his cane and if he didn't find a clear path to the ATM, he would shout "YOU'RE BEING VERY RUDE! I'M A BLIND MAN AND I NEED TO GO TO THE FRONT OF THE LINE! YOU'RE VERY RUDE!" At this point, people would try to reason and say "Hey, dude, we're all in a hurry and all need to wait our turn." Tim would yell back again about how rude we were and yelled until he eventually reached the ATM.
Well, it turned out that this wasn't the only place that Tim was working the blind angle. Oh no. The library, fast food restaurants, it was anywhere that Tim went. "I'M BLIND! YOU'RE RUDE! I'M BLIND!" Blah. Blah. Blah.
So, anyway, here's the mean part. After putting up with this for about a year, a few of us were driving through downtown Iowa City and who did we see but Tim, tapping his way down the sidewalk. Without thinking too hard about it, I rolled down my window and yelled, "Hey! Look out for the construction in front of you!" Tim tapped his cane a lot, yelled a little and went on his merry way. I am not proud. Was that so wrong?