Whenever I go to write a blog post, I think, what the hell should I write about? A saying came to mind, ‘write what you know.’ Of course, that makes it all so clear. Which means, for this and however many posts I apply that adage to, be ready for stories about my dog. I like my dog. And we’ve also met, so I know her.
As the vegetarian, I only ordered fries from the BBQ restaurant. Which was fine because we ordered to-go and this allowed me to put cheese on the fries. I went to grab the cheese, and upon returning, saw a friend betraying me and stealing some fries from my bag.
“Thief!” I yelled, catching them in the act.
“AH!” yelled the thief as I inadvertently scared the hell out of them, which also scared the hell out of me.
My dog swooped in, ready to protect me and save–the fries. Seeing her opportunity, she jumped up and grabbed a fry from my friend’s hand. There is truly no honor among thieves.
Oh, you’d like to know more about me? Well, whether the answer is year or no, I’m trying to make this blog more… you know, bloggy, with like, posts about stuff. Blogs have posts. If you somehow didn’t know that, now you do, so there I go providing knowledge already.
If I were being vain, I’d say something along the lines of why not talk about my favorite subject: myself. But I’m probably not my favorite topic. That list definitely goes: nephews, pets, TV, queer culture, chocolate, and then myself somewhere down the line. Hey, maybe I should talk about all that other stuff instead… eh, might as well do this since I already decided.
Have you ever played the icebreaker two truths and a lie? Well, it doesn’t really matter whether you have or not because the name of the game kind of explains it all, but I’m going to explain it anyway. I tell you three things and then you guess which one the lie is and then a good time is had by all and we become BFFs forever. Yep, that’s totally how it works. No take backs, you’re already playing.
Two Truths and One (1) Lie But which is which? Can’t say, that’s literally the game.
I’ve gone streaking and skinny dipping more than once because I’m a total badass. (that’s right, alluding to nudity and ~illicit activities~, I’m hip and you want to follow my blog now)
I don’t know how to ride a bike because I’m a total badass who is also lame. (And now I’m also admitting to my deep, dark secret shame! What trilling content I write!)
Once upon a time, I could roller-skate, but the last time I tried I almost broke my leg.
So, which one is fake? You can’t see me right now, but I’m making an inscrutable poker fake. I threw in a bonus lie just for you! I don’t have a poker face; my trick is I just make ridiculous faces the entire time instead of trying to be cool and nonchalant because those are two things I’m not great at, but I do love winning stuff and am fairly competent at distracting people with inane chatter and ridiculous faces.
Anyway. *drum roll*
The lie is….
I was in California sight seeing at a beach and we decided to rent skates and bikes. As one of my truths explains, I never learned how to ride a bike, so I went with the skates. I had skated before, a lot actually, though only indoors at skating parties in middle school. I rented the skates, tried to move, and immediately fell down hard on the pavement, injuring my arm and not my leg.
So there you go… two truths and a lie. I am terrible at knowing how to end things. Hit that like and subscribe button? Isn’t that what youtubers say? Is that applicable here? Anyway, bye…
Anything that happened at the end of February is old news in the entertainment world, but whenever I wonder what I should post on my blog, my brain goes blank, so this is at least something. I’m fashionably late. Get it, because this post is sort of about fashion? Oh, you didn’t know what yet. Well, I’m hilarious. That’s the point. But onto my other point…
This about that time Billy Porter wore a dress to the Oscars. Or as I typed into google, “guy that wore dress to awards show” because I don’t really know who he is and I didn’t even watch it, but it popped up on my phone as a story I might be interested in. I used to know a fair amount about television and movies and the people who starred in them, but there are just SO MANY THINGS now, which makes my brain tired at even the thought of keeping up.
Alright, so he wore a dress and that’s good for him because it sounds like he wanted to wear a dress and feel glamorous and I’m glad he got to do so. Men’s suits are boring anyway. I like the gown part, sort of, but it’s basically the ball gown version of a tuxedo; it’s like taking a boring thing and making it… slightly less boring? Which I guess was the point as it’s a tuxedo gown. The commentary about it was better. “People are going to be really uncomfortable with my black ass in a ball gown,” he said, “but it’s not anybody’s business but mine.”
Also neat in that laugh about it so you don’t scream or cry way? Dudebros freaking out about a man wearing a dress. Everyone is familiar with mindless hate on the internet so I’m not going to post anything from trolls, but there’s always those few trolls who think they’re smart and have what they consider a “valid reason” to be upset so it’s totes not homophobia or racist, it’s a legit concern!
This time the concern was *Helen Lovejoy voice* won’t someone think of the children? Which got me wondering… what would my kids think about this? I don’t know. First, I don’t have kids. But I do have nephews. Who are of the age where they don’t care and will tune out immediately if I try to teach them Very Special Lessons about respect and tolerance and sunshine and rainbows, but I try to sneak it in when I can.
So, while scrolling through my phone, I said, “Did you guys hear about the guy who wore a dress to the Oscars?” Then I rolled my eyes at myself because, no, of course they didn’t hear it, where would they hear that? The entertainment websites they’ve never been on once because its not Roblox, the water cooler at school? Do they even know what Oscars are? Besides Oscar the Grouch.
…They would probably object to being associated with Oscar the Grouch as they’re not “little kids” anymore and that “baby stuff” is so beneath them. The oldest is 10. Anyway, when I told them about Billy Porter, they both looked up respectively from the TV and the tablet. Getting that much in itself was a big feat and there was interest on their faces, like they thought someone was pulling a joke or prank.
I showed them both the picture, they looked at it eagerly and then I said, “Yeah, he wore a dress because he wanted to.” And boom, interest over, just like that. There was no joke, no prank, just a dude wearing the clothes he wanted to wear and they didn’t care at all. It was back to their regularly schedule entertainment.
All in all, a pretty good reaction. There was no disgust or confusion or anger. They’re not really interested in what some would consider “girly” or “feminine” things, but I’ve been working with them on understanding that they can like whatever they want and to not immediately dismiss things with “that’s for girls!”, “I’m not a girl!”, “GIRLS BOO, BOYS YAY” and whatnot.
My greatest triumph with my nephews is the color pink. Anytime it was mentioned or seen, there were immediate protests and both of them informing me they hated pink and it was a girl’s color and pink was evil. I kept saying, “It’s just a color. You can like it or not like it. It’s up to you.” Which was immediately met with “I don’t like it!” to which I’d say, “That’s fine.”
Those conversations about pink have died down over the years, maybe because they’ve outgrown coloring books somewhat, but also because there’s less of that gut reaction of, ‘oh no, we can’t like anything girls might like or we’ll be girls and that’s bad!’ The oldest one likes pink now. The youngest doesn’t. My response to both of them is still, “That’s fine.”
I’m glad this attitude seems to be sinking in for them. Oh, just some guy wearing a dress and it’s not supposed to be funny or anything? Why do we care, they seemed to say as I could mentally see them shrugging their shoulders. That guy they’ve never heard of can do what he wants. It’s fine.
I have several ideas for the tattoos I one day am totally going to get. One of which is the phrase “Never knowingly be serious,” which I want above my ass, because where else would you get a tattoo like that?
I have so many mixed feelings about most of Doctor Who (except for Martha, Martha is my girl) but I love that quote and River is my other girl. They’re the best, fight me.
The exchange I’m reference goes something like this:
River Song: Are you serious? Doctor: Never knowingly. Never knowingly be serious! Rule 27.
This is a fairly long-winded way of saying I’m about to share some for reals stuff, so look away if you are so inclined. I am a very small time writer so while I’m almost positive no one noticed my almost three week absence, I still feel the need to talk about it anyway.
Life has been kind of wild. Americans and weather buffs might have heard about a Hurricane Florence hitting the southern states of North Carolina and South Carolina recently? I guess by the time it actually got to land it was a tropical storm or something, which I guess is normally how it goes.
I’m fairly new to the coast, but hurricane season happens every year and locals never really leave and the impending disaster is rarely as big a deal as the weather people say. So of course for my second hurricane season, the storm had to be kinda a big deal instead. Even though it was downgraded to a tropical storm, it was slow as hell and gigantic and it rained for a million years like directly over one spot the whole time.
Yeah, my location happened to be in that one spot.
Being relatively new to the area and never experiencing a major storm before, I got the hell out. I was kinda hoping I still wouldn’t experience a major storm and that I’d just spend a few days working and chilling into a hotel before it was safe to go back… but that was not what happened.
At the time of writing this, I’ve been back for two days. I came back the day we no longer had to boil water before using it, hooray. Getting back in is part of what took the most time but fortunately there was minimal lasting damage where I live. I’m fine, my dog is fine, our house is fine.
The other part of all this is that the natural disaster was coupled with a family emergency. Back in the Midwest, my grandfather passed away. It wasn’t completely sudden in that he was 88 but also wasn’t really expected in that he was planning to have his knee replaced the next week and he bought and slept in a brand new bed for a grand total of one night.
So, with me and my one bag, my dog and her one bag, and my parents who live in the same area and their one bag each, we all went back to the Midwest for the funeral. I thankfully had one nice outfit, because I thought ‘I’m not going to need this at all but I’ll take it anyway.’ Though my mom, who didn’t bring appropriate clothes, bought a ton of new outfits because she had to look nice for church and she had to have options, so who really was the smart one there?
And for my dog, this was the vacation of a lifetime. She got to run around with my nephews and she met all kinds of people who loved giving her human food.
Basically, I have been all over the place for what I am told was a time span of nearly three weeks. I had been living in hotel rooms and was barely at my computer and wasn’t on any kind of regular schedule, so I have lost all semblance of time. I haven’t been answering emails or anything, so I apologize for that.
“You are so stupid,” April told me while trying to swing her leg back and kick me.
“We had rules for tonight,” I said very seriously. “And this game has too much reading.”
Cal and I opted to watch rather than play any of the arcade games, trailing behind the kids and holding stuff for them instead. We’d banned all talk of spelling, bees, and linguistics and headed to the most fun place for kids we could think of. This place was half arcade, half junior amusement park with games, laser tag, and go karts. Bright lights and merriment filled the air.
April and Brendan were about to play some action game with fake orange guns. I jumped forward and covered both their eyes when a long-winded backstory involving chunks of text filled the screen. Reading was kinda like spelling and that was not allowed right now.
“We won’t know how to play,” April argued, throwing her elbow back when she had little luck with her leg. She nailed me in the stomach.
I grunted and let her go but kept my hand over Brendan’s eyes. “You shoot the monsters. Do you really need an instruction manual for that?” I quipped.
The smile threatening Brendan’s face turned into an actual grin as April threw herself into us and the three of us collided with the machine. After a brief tussle, I ‘surrendered’ with my hands up and moved away from them. I said, “I hope the monsters eat you first, April.”
Brendan smiled again and then their focus was taken by the creatures filling the screen. I didn’t really care about the ‘no spelling, no talking’ about spelling’ rule we instituted. I just wanted to cheer up Brendan and his frowning brother.
Today is grey and bitter. There’s no snow yet, but the winter is truly here. The sky is empty, the trees are stripped bare of leaves, and no one is venturing outside more than they have to.
I’ve been having some trouble with positivity lately. It’s easy to get discouraged as a self-published author. The weather doesn’t reflect my mood, it’s not pathetic fallacy, it’s just December in the Midwest.
Being a self-published author isn’t the easiest thing. I won’t moan on about all my struggles and difficulties, but I’ll just say it has some challenges. Doing it on your own means you have to do so much from writing, editing, making graphics, marketing and more all while competing against people with bigger teams and budgets.
I received a lesson in optimism from my nephews. Every day they want to go to the park. The cold doesn’t bother them. Or more likely, they just don’t care that it’s cold. They still want to go outside and run around and play. They don’t let the weather ruin their fun.
Their favorite response last year when someone said it was too cold to go outside was to say, “Well, to me it isn’t.” Naturally, no one bought this. Ignoring reality didn’t work or produce results, so they’ve adapted. Now they just don’t care. Yes, it’s cold outside, but they want to go out anyway.