It’s Just a Little Crush

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No I am not a Belieber.  I think Justin Bieber is a jerk with cooties and probably a teeny tiny little itty bitty flea sized filler for his Calvin Klein’s.

This is Kate McKinnon.  Yes I am a happily married, totes straight woman with a MASSIVE girl crush on Kate McKinnon.  I don’t want to get down with her.   I like men.  Particularly Polish men.  Or maybe I should say they like me.   My first boyfriend was Polish.  My ex husband was Polish.  My current husband is Polish.  If I ever visit Poland they’ll make me their queen.  I am a dyed in the wool man lover but nonetheless I find her utterly inspiring and amazing and hawt!   It’s not a sexual thing but to me there is something inherently attractive about not fearing to be unattractive for the sake of a laugh or to put a finer point on it; not taking your looks so seriously.  She is powerful and weird and really I just want to buy her a beer or lick her ear or listen to her cheer or play her Tears for Fears….

Actually she is the poster child for what I’m crushing on because she’s fabulous and amazing and brilliant and fearless and phunny as phuck.  

I watched the Ghostbusters reboot over the weekend.  I’m not going to debate the purist Ghostbusters fans nor am I going to give my opinion on the movie.  Go see it for yourself.   I don’t care who is pissed off that they did an all female version (which by the way was produced by Dan Akroyd -so it ain’t all bad).   Sometimes change is good.  

What I am going to is straight up applaud the fact that these ladies were smart, strong and at various points; they were total badasses.  They did strong female according to the standards of a female not what some uptight movie executive who needs to compensate for either a shriveled soul or a shriveled…well maybe…you know where I’m going with this.  Please don’t make me spell it out.  Anyhoooo it’s feminism done on femisim’s terms; not some caricature. 

First off, there’s very little bad language in it.  Secondly these ladies are uabashedly smart; proving their chops in history and science and physics.  They are sexy without showing either boobs or butt.  The friendships portrayed are bound in eccentricities as women’s friendships often are and they are rock solid.  In the final fight scene they move with grace and precision and the power they exude is alluring.  It makes you sit up and take notice.  Your inner tough cookie will stop napping and start taking notes on how to hood slide on asphalt.  I imagine it’s how little boys felt watching Starsky and Hutch buff the hood of their Gran Torino as they raced after the bad guys.  

I like oddballs.  I married one.  I raised one.  I was raised by two.  My best friend is one.  My other best friend is one.  Actually all of my friends are.  Even my dog is nuts.  

Conformity can be highly overrated.  I have thus far successfully surrounded myself with the odd ducks that I relate to so very well.  I think this was part of the appeal of the characters in this movie.  

I’m going to go upstairs now and put on a jumpsuit and goggles and some Hunter boots and pretend I’m the fifth Ghostbuster.  I am a 45 year old woman and I will gladly still play dress up.  

Thanks Kate.  I’ll buy you a beer.  

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If I Ask

If you want change but refuse to be a part of it…it’s time to start talking.  It’s time to start talking or more truthfully it’s time to shut the hell up and stop getting in the way of those who do want fairness, equality, justice, and peace.  So far I’ve addressed sexism, democracy, marital bliss, weight gain, feminism, friendships; now I’m taking aim at something which I consider to be the unspoken mar on our society.

I asked multiple people I know how this picture made them feel.  I tried to go across the board to get opinions from every walk of life.  My curiousity is not to incite some sort of issue, my curiousity and hope is to illuminate something that runs so deep in our country that I think sometimes we are quite ignorant of it.  We talk and talk and talk about it but somehow always seems to be diminished by words like, thug, projects, ghetto, black on black crime statistics, prison statistics, hoodie….

 

Once again….writing on a board.  God bless America…Land that I love.  What does this evoke?  I can tell you it is from a Mom & Pop establishment who have ties to war heroes and blue collar America.  I know them and I respect them.  They harken back to a time when many people felt this way.  We are at a crossroad in this country.  I realize this is a topic people would not like to face but face it we must.  So here’s a cross sample of the responses:

“I don’t believe in God”

“If Hillary gets in….then not anymore”

“Home of the free and land of the brave”

“That I feel the same way……but all the hate in our country right now makes me sad for our country”

#iloveamericajustnottheassholeswholivehere

” ‘Land that I love’ that doesn’t love me back because I’m not white / disheartened / If you don’t like it…just go back to ___________” (excerpts from one of the most honest and wonderful and painful conversations I’ve ever had about race – Thank you  – you know who you are and I love you for your insight and clarity and how absolutely brave and beautiful you are)

“This country can’t be the land that I love until it loves me…all of me…”

“Sure……as long as you’re white”

How many have chimed in the All Lives Matter as a knee jerk reaction to feeling slighted; as if the importance of your life were somehow diminished because the focus of value and worth was not on you.  They were angry right?  How dare someone put their lives above yours?  Imagine growing up with that.  Imagine feeling every day that you are somehow less than a worthy participant of society.  Could you handle it generation after generation after generation?

If I’m raising hackles up; it’s kind of what I do.  Sorry/not sorry.

I’m not saying anyone who went straight to ALM is a racist.  I distinctly remember having that reaction the first time I heard it.  Whether or not I spoke out about it, I honestly don’t recall.  I may have.  I’m an outspoken twit.  I think what we should all take away is the impact of the dismissal whether intended or not.

I grew up proudly singing the words…land that I love.  I still know every lyric.  But I also grew up believing that the Pilgrims and the Indians broke bread and lived happily ever after.  Something didn’t translate into why there were no Indians in my school or town or why the only one I saw on television was one alone on a horse crying over litter and not the glaring fact that my forefathers drove him from his home.  Where were they?  Why did my father’s lips tighten to a grim thin line whenever I would bring what I learned about Christopher Colombus before he would paste the smile back on his face because he didn’t want to rob me of that sense of national pride I felt.  I was young and innocent and didn’t deserve to have reality quench my idealism.  But even as I grew older, the bogus education agenda remained.  I didn’t learn until much later how we were essentially founded on the backs of others.

So I submit….is it wrong to question?  What harm ever came from a question?

1492 – What would happen if I sail the ocean blue in the name of the queen?

1490’s – What are the odds said queen who opposed slavery would find out I used forced labor to build a settlement?

1500’s 1600’s – Do you, natives, have gold?  How much?  Do you believe in God?  Never heard of him?  Funny….we have rules for that.  Tithing.  We prefer payment in gold.

1620 – What if we sail to America to escape religious persecution?

1600’s through the westward expansion – Have you never heard of smallpox?

1620’s – Squanto…you can teach us to live in this strange land?  You have no quantitative means of showing ownership?  Hmmm interesting.

1620’s – Can we grow more crops if we have someone work for nothing?  Can we profit more?

1800’s – post Lousiana purchase – What if there’s land west of the Mississippi River?

1838 & 1839 – Will it be as offensive if we call it the Indian Removal act as opposed to what it really is.  The trail of tears.

1840’s – How do we remove these Natives?  Ah, manifest destiny.

1840’s – Who is Santa Ana?  What do you mean he’s fighting for Mexico’s claim of ownership?

1848 – 1855 – What if there’s more gold in that state at the wayyyyy end?

1861 – What would happen if we secede?

1865 – If we fight a battle that includes attrition and starvation and systematic destuction – will the country unite when we’re done?

1865 – If a band of men form who are completely opposed to the dissolution of slavery and run around terrorizing the countryside in white sheets, will it force a repeal of the 13th amendment?

1877 19??’s- If we form a caste system instead, will anyone catch on that it’s essentially the same as slavery even if it lasts almost a century?

1955 – What if I refuse to give up my bus seat?

1957 – Will the verdict of  Brown vs. Board of Education of Topkea change the segregation of schools?  Will the Little Rock Nine make it safetly home from school?

1960 – What if the four of us stage a sit in Montgomery Alabama?

1963 – Are fire hoses and dogs an effective end to protests?

1963 – What is your dream Dr. King?

1964 – What if we pass the Civil Rights Act?

1965 – What if we march to Selma to protest the direct refusal to honor the Civil Rights Act?

1966 – Who are the Black Panthers?

1967 – Why would the race riots in Detroit start?

1967 – Why would the riots start in Newark?

1967 – What if Thurgood Marshall becomes a sitting Supreme Court Justice?

1968 – What if a shot is fired in Memphis?  Will it be felt 50 years later?  Will people grieve 50 years later?  Will that message last?  Will we honor him?

1973 –  What if a new music movement is started?  What does Hip Hop mean?

1970’s & 1980’s – What if the music industry and move industry exploit?

1990’s – What message is rap sending?

2000’s – What if we elect Senator Obama  as President Obama?

2016 – What if we finally recognize that questions need to be asked?

Over and over and over again until we are the America we should be.  God bless each and every one of us.  I want my friends and loved ones to own that pride.  They deserve it.

Does it hurt to ask a question?

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Dem Broads, Dem Broads

So recent events/politics have brought out the raging feminist in me.  Before this I was a little baby feminist.  A la petit femme realist if you will.  I’m not quite burning bras yet…..that’ll be next week or upon further discussion of repealing the 19th amendment or if I receive another unsolicited dick pic.  

So who has been the brunt of this other than you dear reader?  Mr. Magilla.  Poor suffering bas……….Magilla.

He has found out first hand exactly how “manteruppting” is dealt with.  Dont’ talk over me.  I used to sing.  I’ve got strong lungs.  I promise you, I can get louder.  The last tête-a-tête of manterruption played out like something out of “The Goldbergs” and I’m pretty sure I threw a wooden spoon.  Whoopsie.  Bygones………

He has found out that I do not care about Viagara ever, nor his rage against Ladies Night being a sham and definitely and not so much about his fishing addiction. I used to fan myself in feigned enthusiasm now I ask him to catch and cook my dinner.

He has found out that I hate washing cars.

He has found out that I still cook dinner and wear dresses.   

He has found out that I have zero compunction on calling him out on being a gorilla if and when the need arises.

He has found out that I yell louder at Presidential debates than I do at football games.

His father worked two jobs and his mother stayed at home.  They were and are an amazing team and the embodiment of “traditional family”; and though he probably wouldn’t admit it, I think he’s a closet feminist.  I’ve heard him brag about me.  I know the truth. 


And his response to all of this?

An email……..

A proud email telling me that in his work world…….things were happening.  Changes were taking place amidst his work dealings whether at his company or other businesses he was dealing with.

The title of this email?

Are you happy?  I’m working with lots of broads.  Powerful broads.  Broads are great.  I love broads.

Awww honey…………..and we love you.  When you’re not manterrupting.

 

 

 

Shapely? Shape Me? Ship Shape? 

So can we talk about the need to turn every female Halloween costume into “sexy”.  Sexy nurse.  Sexy podiatrist.  Sexy garbage man.  

Who would like to start?

Pick me.  Pick me.  PICK ME?   *demon voice* Pick meeee.  

I mean really.  Sexy Ken Bone?  Really?  Genius?   We are women.  Newsflash, we’re all sexy.  Now I’ll show you the man’s version.  

What? No bared midriff?   

That just makes me table flipping mad.  Turn about is fair play.  If every female costume is tarted up then we at least deserve a little hairy back glimpse.  Cheaters.  

I received a catalogue from Spanx this week.  Apparently word got around that I’m curvy.  Righteous.  I would like to spread that rumor around like melted butter.   The more people that know, the better.  This definitely yields better odds on people baking stuff for me which is a win/win. 

I was researching a bit on Marilyn Monroe.  Sexy right?   She made a career on it, bless her soul.  So what is sexy?   Is sexy defined in terms of skimpy clothing?  Is it defined in intellect?  She was not a dumb blonde.  She was a broken, sad woman who got caught up in an image. 

This past weekend I went away for a girls weekend.  Part of the weekend was spent taking new pictures for the cover of this blog. It was an exercise in absurdity.  I was in a corseted Pepto Bismol pink gown complete with taffeta skirt and bejeweled bodice.  It was hideous.  The boots I’ve owned since about 1997 or so and the jacket was a lark purchased in a vintage shop which is one of my favorite places on Earth.  Every vintage shop – everywhere.  Those two things were definitely me.  The dress?   Not so much.  I loathe myself in pink.  It makes me look perpetually sunburned.  Marilyn looked good in pink.  I am no Marilyn.   Did you know she was actually not a plus size?  She was buxom and curvaceous.  Dress sizing was different then.  We had not yet adopted the masochistic sizing standard we have now that allows women to identify their self worth in a fucking dress size.  Then it was based more off of measurements.  So after taking girdles and shapewear out of the picture she was comfortably a size 8 or 10.  Still- that ain’t no size 2 kid.  

So today I brought my Spanx catalogue to work and left it on my desk.  I watched it.  It watched me. It watched me go face first into my lunch special chicken and broccoli.  #iaintsorry

I’m not sure what to think of this particular article of clothing.  I own slips and camisoles and brassieres and other assorted undergarments but no body shapers.  Do they work?  Are they comfortable?   Do they have a sweatpant version of them?   My fear is that they lose their effectiveness once they roll up like a window shade over your ass.  Is there anything worth this particular humiliation?  I think not.  

But it’s all part of this expectation of perfection.  It’s like padded bras.  Sure they make us look good but at some point you still have to take off all the accoutrement and look at yourself unadorned.  For women it’s not always that easy.  The marks which are somehow our identifiers also shame us.  Many of us have stretch marks from pregnancies.  Many of us have the belly pooch that never seems to go away.  We have cellulite.  Our breasts sag.  Our bodies by design are meant to gather fat in certain areas.  It’s part child bearing preparation whether we use it or not and part hormones.  It’s evolution.  It’s life. Yet somehow Spanx is supposed to mystically remove the bumps and rolls.  But what if I like them?  What if I earned them?  What if they are the baby I bore and the cakes I baked and the meals I made with love for my family.  What if they were the hours I spent with my parents instead of a gym because I don’t know how many good days/weeks/months or years my father has left.  What if I would rather walk peacefully for a mile with my friend than melt into a gym floor pretending to be interested in lifting weights.  

A few months back a Playboy model took a picture of a woman at her gym and posted it on social media stating  that if she couldn’t unsee it then neither could we.  You know what I can’t unsee?  The fact that this woman was in the shower and completely unaware that some nasty little dimwit who has probably diminished brain cells from the peroxide inhalation or possibly her augmented breasts were cutting off her oxygen supply was taking her picture.  Without consent.  Huh.  Seems to be a fucking theme lately.   Consent optional. 

Presumably the woman in question was there to get healthy.  Maybe she’d just had a baby.  Maybe she’d been taking care of her sick mother.  Maybe she works long hours and doesn’t have time. Maybe it’s none of our business why she was there.  

Spanx don’t really interest me.  I have good friends.  You know what that means?  They tuck in your back fat if it pops out.  They tell you when you have spinach in your teeth or a booger hanging out of your nose.  They tell you when you’re being a hormonal bitch and they cry with you when you’re on your knees.  And they only take your picture when you’re wearing a ridiculous pink gown and Doc Martens and never ever behind your back in a shower.  Just sayin

Size 12 baby.  #iaintsorry

Meow

If you’re a Trump fan you’d probably like to skip this.   Come to think of it, if you’re a Clinton fan you may want to skip this as well.  If you think independently and realize we are currently living in “The Real United States” reality TV series then you may want to read.  If not, no hard feelings.

I’ve calmed down now.  So I’ll try to keep some level of humor but I can’t promise anything.  As a matter of fact, I outright doubt I have humor left on this topic.  I’ll try again in the next post.

I have a pet peeve.  It’s simple.  Keep it real. Vegetarians claiming they’re eating chicken salad but in reality it’s tofu.  Stop it; you’re eating tofu salad.  If you’re saying you love all women yet use terminology like what has recently been upended in the media,  I will personally correct you.  You don’t love women.  You objectify them.  Love and objectification are not the same thing.   A twitter user put forth the mission to unearth the first sexual misappropriation women had encountered.  An avalanche ensued resulting in an average response rate of two tweets per second of women outpouring their experiences.  Sexual misconduct does not necessarily mean rape.

Don’t say you we’re stronger together when under the blanket of a charitable foundation, you and your husband have made in excess of 200 million dollars but you want to relate to the common core.   And finally don’t say you’re sorry when you clearly are only sorry you got caught.  And yes I’m leveling both parties on this.  I’m also bitching up a dust cloud that we did this.  We allowed the left to get more left, the right to get more right and declare war on each other and all the while we’re sitting here wondering why we’re tearing each other apart over the dregs of freaking humanity who just so happen to be running for the office of president.  In our Kardashian/NakedandAfraid/Survivor/CelebutanteDemolitionoftheDay world we have immersed ourselves into scum and lo and behold, this is what we have leading us.

I am personally grateful for one thing in Trumpland.  One.  Finally…finally it has unearthed the level of misogyny and blatant racism at the core of politics.  So now what are we going to do about it?

Are we that afraid of diversity?  Are we that afraid of women coming into power?  An hour before I wrote this I saw an article published by NBC that one of Putin’s cronies would assure that an outright war would be declared if Clinton won.

Personally I received a text message from someone who shall go unnamed of Clinton, laughing loudly only to turn her face as a giant penis was stuck into her mouth.  Really?  This is humor?  Because from where I’m sitting, this is the only way you can think of to shut a woman up.  Wrong!  Try chocolate next time.  When I stated, don’t ever send something like this to me again, I received an onslaught of pro-Trump items….like I would change my mind if the option were presented to me enough.  For the record, I’ve despised Trump since his Howard Stern interview years ago, and I’ve loathed Clinton since Benghazi.  But this is because they are reprehensible people.  Not because one is a woman.  I’m pretty sure if I sent a picture of Trump being sodomized by Putin it wouldn’t have been received very well.  What????  You make a penis joke, I make a penis joke.  It’s funny right?  No?  Then knock it the hell off.  But that’s not a popular sentiment.

To this I simply say, don’t expect my husband to fight my battles for me.  I can do that my damn self.  Apparently we’ve not met.  I’m the bitch with the mouth.  How do you do?  You won’t forget me after this my dear.  Today Trump’s son put forth the theory that his father would win if only men were allowed to vote.  So here’s my question….make America great again….

Great when exactly?  Before the 13th amendment?  Before the 19th amendment?  Shall I fetch my husband’s slippers and pipe?  He doesn’t use either?  So now what?  Great again in terms of the thriving years after World War II that set up the Civil Rights movement of the next generation?  The Reagan years…when AIDS was blatantly ignored?  Which period was so great?   Every generation has been fraught with issues.  We are a work in progress.  Now having said that, I will also say this.  I love my country.  For all of the politically correct nonsense, we have the freedom to live our lives.  You don’t like Kaepernick kneeling?  Great.  You have the right to call him every name in the book and post daily “Share if you think you should stand during the National Anthem” on Facebook but so does he have the right to protest something that quite simply must be addressed in this nation.  It may not be popular, but it is in fact his absolute law of the land right.  My father fought for that right.  My father in law did as well and while I personally find it disrespectful…I also find a blanket targeting of an entire race of people being jailed systematically offensive as well.  That is the beauty of our great nation.  Make America great again?  We live in the greatest nation in this world.  Don’t kid yourself.  We can disagree and fight and scream our opinions and still not be jailed because we disagree.  We have liberties that we take very much for granted.  What we need is to protect those liberties.  What we need is to make the most of the checks and balances that should in theory prevent the abuse of power.

I put forth a theory to my husband that pissed him off a bit until he thought about it with a measure of regret.  A common sentiment that I hear in my circles is a lament in the unravelling of race relations which is often blamed on President Obama.  My counter was simply this, “Has it occurred to you that for the first time since the inception of our country, that the balance of power is shifting from white men to others….women, African-Americans, Latinos and it doesn’t sit well?”

We have so much to learn from each other, so much to gain from each other, so much we can embrace and enjoy and enlighten each other with.  Idealistic?  Sure.  Impossible?  No.  Never.  No.

What I hear most often is now a variation of….if you like this you must be this

If you are pro Trump, you hate women.  You must believe it’s okay to sexually assault them at will

If you are pro Clinton you must believe that Benghazi didn’t matter

If you are pro-choice you must want everyone to have an abortion

If you support BLM you must hate police

If you say BLM you must not value any other life

If you are pro-police you must be a racist

If you have a dog you must hate cats

If you have a gay friend you don’t believe in the sanctity of marriage

If you are married lady you must hate single women

If you are a man you must want women under your thumb

When the hell did everything become either/or?

Have we lost our kindness in our need to flex our muscles?  Ellen DeGeneres posted a meme of how she would run errands  and was called a racist.  This is a woman that lost everything because she dared to come out before it was considered acceptable.  She was socially shunned.  She lost her job, her lover, and I’m sure a shit-ton of money.  Am I expected to believe she meant to demean another human being after what she’s been through?  Does everyone need validation?  Does everyone need the trophy for waking up that day?  Ohhhh look at you, you’re awake and a woman/man/child/gay/straight/black/white…GOD DAMN HUMAN………..

If we do need this kind of back patting, it’s gonna be a long damn life.  Every conservative does not need to wage war on those who are not white males and every liberal does not need to make up for the ills of the world.  Middle ground….it’s nice there.  MIDDLE GROUND.  Common, centrist, responsible; really it’s not much to ask.  Borderline facism nor Kumbaya are really effective, but common sense works like a charm.  ALSO……..TERM LIMITS FOR SENATE AND CONGRESS.  There!  I said it.  Sweet Jesus.  Is it so hard to figure out?

As a country we are not this simple.  We never were.  We were born from turmoil.  Maybe that is our nature; but we are complex and brash and strong and resiliant and diverse and beautiful and damn it………..we are Americans.  We are a descriptor all unto itself.  We can make that more beautiful or we can relegate ourselves into believing we should rip ourselves apart like a pack of dogs.  Presidents come and presidents go, but we will still be here.  Do we want to be standing?  Or kneeling?