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slickshoesareyoucrazy · 1 year

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What Turns Me Grinchy

Believe it or not, this post is another love letter to J. It’s just…an unconventional one, I guess, with a cameo appearance from Dr. Seuss’s beloved (?…he’s beloved, right?) Aspiring Christmas Stealer.

I’ve written for over a year here, and for more than 3 years somewhere about what a calm, capable, loving, and wonderful man J is. I’ve written about his compassion and his commitment and how he works so hard and how easy he is to trust (and he deserves that trust) because he’s so concerned with people’s safety and he makes people feel safe. I haven’t really written much explicitly about his quiet confidence, but he does have it and I think that’s heavily implied in most of the things I write about him and in the fictional heroes I’ve created that are inspired by him too.

But even confident, amazing heroes have insecurity sometimes. J’s isn’t anything like my constant, multi-faceted, insidious and invasive insecurity (thank goodness). His hardly ever shows. But each year around the holidays, because of inane holiday marketing, I’m reminded of one place J’s insecurity tends to reveal itself.

J grew up poor. He didn’t grow up ‘not rich’ like me. I mean, I grew up living in an apartment with two working parents who sometimes had $5 left in the bank at the end of the month (and this was with free full time child care from my dad’s parents for me and from ME for my little brother) and openly bickered with each other about whose parents we’d have to move in with when the inevitable happened and we couldn’t make the monthly budget stretch (I was always rooting for my dad’s parents when they were still living for obvious reasons). But we never actually HAD to move in with any of my grandparents (thank goodness…I guess…although honestly, I’d have liked to have lived with my dad’s parents). And my parents never applied for public assistance. J’s family did. A friend of mine online reminded me of this Everclear song the other day, which isn’t totally J, but these lines definitely are…

"I hate those people who love to tell you Money is the root of all that kills. They have never been poor; They have never had the joy of a Welfare Christmas."

J’s dad always worked full time, but his mother was unable to work (she couldn’t drive a car), and J remembers walking to the grocery store and helping his mother do math and count change to pay for the things they needed that SNAP (food stamps) didn’t cover when he was The Boy’s age. He remembers going to free stores to get new winter coats every year. He remembers being on the receiving end of anonymous donations at holiday time…the same anonymous donations we MAKE now for other families.

J does know what a Welfare Christmas feels like.

We live a very comfortable life together now. I mean, we have a life beyond my wildest dreams of what kind of life I could have. If I went back and told my 5 or 15 or even 25 year old self that I’d be living my current life with J, I’d have not believed it. J works hard for us to have a great life, and he takes great pride (and should) in taking care of me and The Boy when it comes to providing us with material and financial security. But I know there are still times he thinks and worries about it.

The first time J met my parents was the day after Christmas in 2003. We’d known each other for almost 4 weeks and had been on 4 dates alone when we went to dinner with my parents at a modest sit-down restaurant (not fast food, but certainly not fancy). My dad picked up the entire check for the party of 5 (my parents, my little brother, who was 14 at the time, and J and me). J thanked my dad sincerely. And when the two of us got into his car alone to drive home, the first thing he said to me was, 'Your dad knows I can buy your dinner, right?’ My dad was trying to be magnanimous and welcoming. Neither of my parents are particularly affectionate people, but they do know how to buy people things as a way of showing approval or 'love.’ I told J this. 'My dad can’t say, 'Nice to meet you,’ like a normal person, but he can buy your dinner. That’s all that meant.’

On our first Valentine’s Day together, J bought me a white gold and diamond chip necklace. I was speechless. I’d never received a gift that nice before, and I loved it…I loved the implied commitment. But I can remember casually mentioning that it was 'a lot.’ I treasure that necklace, and I still wear it out on special occasions. And J bought me an engagement ring and a wedding ring, and another necklace for one Mother’s Day, but he doesn’t buy me jewelry for every gift giving occasion, and I don’t want him to. I think part of the reason he bought me that necklace was to show me that he could. It was mostly the commitment…to show me how seriously he took me and our potential future together. But I think it was at least a little bit, in J’s mind, something to indicate to me what he could do.

Which brings me to the shifty holiday marketing that makes me think about this every year around Christmas (and Valentine’s Day…and Mother’s Day…) All the 'He went to Jared!’ and 'Every kiss begins with Kay’ commercials just grate on me. They turn my Grinch feet ice cold in the snow. I don’t like the implication that women want (read: expect) jewelry for every gift giving occasion and I don’t like the implication that these gifts earn men affection and prove how much they love the women in their lives/are indicators of what kind of partner they are/can be. Those things aren’t true. At least it’s not true for me as a woman. And I know many men who can and do buy jewelry regularly who don’t show their partners respect or affection regularly. I’m not trying to judge jewelry negatively here. I just don’t like the marketing implication that an expensive gift = love.

And I know that despite all the progress made in the past 60 years or so with debunking gender expectations, men are still conditioned to believe that financially providing for their partner is a requirement, and it can still cause insecurity. And particularly in the world we currently live in, where it’s hard for so many people to get the basic things they need like food and shelter and clean water and health care, we are extremely fortunate to live with as much comfort and security as we have. I know men still feel pressure to buy expensive things for their partners as gifts. Things that mass marketing tells them are 'romantic.’ Buying her that stand mixer you know she’s gonna use every week is sexist, but buying her a diamond says you love her. Taking her to the book store to get a hot cocoa and a book or two from the paperback sale rack is cheap; take her to the jewelry store and let her pick something out there instead…

My kisses don’t begin with Kay. J doesn’t have to buy me a new life. I love the life we’re already living. About 5 Christmases ago, J asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I told him I couldn’t think of anything; I already have everything; he’d given me everything but the kitchen sink. And he bought me a new kitchen sink (really…engineers are wicked literal…and J is kind of a smart ass…but my kitchen sink is really nice, for real). In all seriousness, I hope J knows that while I am grateful for and appreciate how hard he works for our comfortable life…and that he’s now given me everything INCLUDING the kitchen sink, I’d still love him even if he couldn’t buy my dinner at a non-fast food restaurant. He provides my soul security with his consistent love. That’s what I want to keep getting for Christmas every year. He can’t buy that in any store.

“And what happened then? Well, in Whoville, they say That the Grinch’s small heart grew 3 sizes that day.”

I love that guy. <3

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cryingyetcourageous · 1 year

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bustamite, zoisite

bustamite: what are you looking forward to in the coming months? Christmas! Always Christmas. Whether it's more "Winter Solstice pagan"-y or more "Jesus"-y or somewhere in between, the winter holidays are always so exciting. Seeing the lights up, hearing music both old and new, baking endless food, the all the artisan goods at the Christmas markets... and of course, decorating the tree, which is a tradition I started no matter what Estonia says. Looking forward to beloved Ziemassvētki and all the fun the holiday brings.

zoisite: how are you feeling? what did you do today?

I am feeling like I should have bought straight Everclear rather than waste my time and money on beer too weak to get me drunk... So, ah, a bit stressed. I wouldn't be feeling that way unless it was to cover up stress, probably. I did paperwork, mostly. I dropped my plate during break so I didn't get lunch... but my breakfast was good, so maybe that makes up for it? I guess I could have made more, but I didn't feel like cooking. I, um... doomscrolled on multiple different websites... Not while working! No distractions. And then by the time I was off work, I was spacing out, so- I haven't done much, really.

#bates boy #ic answers

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mountaingoatsnatural · 2 years

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everclear rich girl cover my beloved

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rgr-pop · 4 years

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#can't believe this isn't a beloved cult record #music #girls with everclear lyrics self esteems

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skelemira · 3 years

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GIVE THE UL SNAS AND ROWAN LORE PLS PLS PLS I NEED THIS

OK FINALLY DONE WITH ART AND ON THE BUS HOME LET'S *DO THIS*

But before I start I should say this is not my characterization, it's actually how my bestest friend @hyacinthlanes characterizes him (she's also the one who drew my pfp btwwwwww I love you Saphhhhhhhh)

Aight so these two motherhuggers are the cutest fRICKING couple you ever will see. So I actually lowkey uh forgot how they met, I don't even think I set it in stone, I think I started writing a oneshot about it and then just straight up didn't finish it lol but I think I'm gonna go with that they meet at Muffet's.

(btw when I refer to Sans and Papyrus hereforth I mean UL Snas and Paps)

So Paps has a bit of a sweet tooth, nothing major just a bit of a craving for pastries now and then, and he knows Muffet is good about not making her pastries with an ungodly amount of sugar, so he pops by every once in a while. So one time he goes to Muffet's and he sees a new waitress. Now Muffet has *never* hired somebody to help her, so that immediately caught his attention. He noticed that she was a little bit awkward, clearly new to waitressing, and a little bit clumsy every now and then, though she seemed a bit more fearful of Muffet when she made mistakes than he thought was brought on by Muffet being a spider.... Especially because Muffet seemed to be acting extra sweet to the waitress. The waitress eventually got to him, asking for his order before stopping herself and apologizing, introducing herself as Rowan and then asking for his order again.

He brought out all the charm he could, and by the end of the conversation he had even coaxed a giggle out of her. It wasn't even much of a giggle, and she quickly stifled it, but he knew in that moment he would do anything to hear her full blown laugh. (In a completely platonic way, dw there is no jealousy. Though perhaps it might go a different way in an au 👀👀👀)

He went home and Sans noticed he was much more upbeat than normal. Usually when he went to Muffet's he was happy but he would go straight for a 5 mile jog to "burn off the sugar", but this time Paps just went into the kitchen to start prepping for dinner, humming merrily.

Eventually Sans pried it out of Paps about the new waitress and how adorable she was, and you just KNOW Sans is a sucker for adorable things so he decided to pay Muffet a visit (though he would definitely get Grillby's after to "atone").

Yeah so uh it took a couple of weeks for him to get around to going to Muffet's, not that he was dreading it, he just takes his sweet time to do something he says he's gonna do.

He steps one foot into Muffet's and curses under his breath.

Because he sees Rowan tentatively confident, making a joke with Muffet as she wiped down a table, and the ensuing giggle had a burst of magic zip through him, apparently so much that Muffet paused in her laughter, her gaze going to him and raising one eyebrow.

(I really just ended up writing a whole thing huh XDDD)

He saw a glimpse of that confident radiance peeking through the walls that seemed to be slowly crumbling and he became resolved to break them down, if just to see what was hiding behind them.

It started with him trying out various comedy routines as she took his order, anything to hear that giggle again (oh my stars she likes *puns*), and it eventually turned to flirting (her blush is *adorable* and he loves it more than anything) which eventually turned to him asking her out. She said yes <3 (obviously lol) and they started going out.

So obviously my boi Sans has some trauma, we hc him here as asexual, but I mean either way being forced to be in constant heat is gonna have some nasty consequences even if you weren't asexual, plus he feels like in other people's eyes he's been reduced to just sex, plus a lot of other stuff that I'm not going to mention bc that's Saph's territory lol (Btw forgot to mention Rowan is panro-ace like me <3 bc self indulgence XDDD)

So having a girlfriend who is also asexual and doesn't *at all* expect sex or even really want it most of the time if at all and who's basically like a best friend but also romantic is just. Exactly what he needs. Their dates are just the cutest and they both understand the other has trauma so when one has days where the "air is heavy" (basically days where it's hard to move or hard to breathe, like the air is too heavy to move through etc) the other is just there for them. ANYWAY they're too cute your honor

So eventually they move in together, think cottagecore and you've got basically Rowan and Oberon's house, they're adorable and their home is so cozy.

There are so many little moments that are just adorable I can't even think of them all but eventually they get married.

I love. Their wedding okay.

Like have you seen that post of a couple that invited their friends to a party they said was a costume party but it was actually their wedding? Yeah that's them. Except the people know it's a wedding, they just can wear whatever the heck the want, the wackier the better. Their wedding is outdoors and full of shenanigans and laughs and I don't quite remember who I had officiate, it might've been Grillby or my friend's sona, but ik Muffet was the maid of honor.

Tho since they shared so many friends it wasn't really a split situation, the wedding parties were all just kind of mixed together. Rowan was barefoot and it was by the edge of a forest so it was very nature-y (Rowan gardens like a LOT I mentioned it like offhand in the last post).

Super super cute.

Now RANDOM TIDBITS

Sans' favourite food is apple pie. Why? Because Rowan smells like apples. (Or it's her scones bc goshDANG they are good).

Rowan's favourite color is the purple of Sans' eyelights.

Sans (with Papyrus' help) builds Rowan a greenhouse with floating pink magic lights and it's the most romantic fricking place ever.

When their relationship is first starting to get serious, they plant a tree together (a Rowan tree aha). (If/when they have kids, the kids would play underneath that tree).

Sans' favourite colour is the red of Rowan's hair (it looks pink in the picture but it's kind of a pinkish red, like a pink lady apple).

Rowan and Papyrus have such a good relationship with each other man. Like when Paps finds out Rowan is drinking **EVERCLEAR** every night he is like absolutely Not you uncultured swine (affectionate) and so he starts up a Wine Night with her. Every Thursday he brings a new wine for them to try while maybe doing a puzzle or just chatting or baking or something. Together they become wine connoisseurs (bro I spelled that right the first time without autocorrect look at me go)

Ok I'm rambling at this point but uh yes <3 you're also free to ask me random questions about these two if you'd like!!!! Thank you so much for the ask Hyper beloved <333333 literally Saph is like almost the whole reason UL Sans is my husband now lol.

#ask #oc #Rowan beloved #UL Sans #Underlust Sans #Sans x OC #x sona??#anywhodles #I love these two okay I live vicariously through Rowan just to get some goshdang cuddles

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thatericalper2 · 3 years

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N/A

He’s a 6-time nominee for Publicist of the Year during Canadian Music Week, a 19-time JUNO Award winner overseeing PR campaigns including 3 in 2021, and worked over 50 Maple Blues Award winners, over 40 Canadian Folk Music Award winners, and truly honoured to work with some of the biggest and most important artists of our time. Past and present clients include Ringo Starr, Jerry Lee Lewis, Ray Charles, Barry Manilow, Bob Geldof, Pete Seeger, Jerry Garcia, Monty Python, Randy Bachman, Nickelback, Sinead O’Connor, Steve Miller, The Smashing Pumpkins, Little Big Town, Black Label Society, Natalie MacMaster, DJ Khaled, Carole King, Jimmy Webb, Harmonium, Billy Ray Cyrus, Curt Smith, Rita MacNeil, Dr. John, Dwight Yoakam, Fred Eaglesmith, Joey Alexander, Ani DiFranco, Harry Shearer, Dan Zanes, Opeth, Cradle Of Filth, Jordan Knight, Chickenfoot, Bush,best free website builder and hosting Duran Duran, Jeff Dunham, A-Trak, Judy Collins, Ashanti, Supersuckers, Joan Baez, Slash, Andy Kim, Robert Palmer, Rival Sons, Denise Donlon, Cécile McLorin Salvant, Alex Chilton, The Drifters, Colin James, Kathy Valentine, Buffy Sainte-Marie, Pussy Riot, Steve Gorman (Black Crowes), Lori Cullen, Murray McLauchlan, MonkeyJunk, Lee Aaron, Jane Bunnett, Jason Blaine, Dan Talevski, Gloryhound, Steve Vai, Big Sugar, Jesse Winchester, Liona Boyd, Sweet Honey In The Rock, Joan Armatrading, Wanda Jackson, Amy Ray, Jake Clemons, Kevin McDonald, Matt Andersen, John Prine, Jesse Cook, Of Montreal, Kris Kristofferson, Eva Avila, Snoop Dogg, Robert Munsch, Bilal, J. Dilla, Allman Brothers, Ben E. King, Fred Penner, Sue Foley, Kenny Shields and Streetheart, Sesame Street, Xzibit, The Wiggles, Bill Wyman, Sass Jordan, Midge Ure, Sasha & Digweed, Jimmy Rankin, Light Of Day Canada, Speech from Arrested Development, Paul Reddick, Alpha Blondy, Unearth, Kiran Ahluwalia, Public Enemy, Joe Budden, Mobb Deep, Sly and Robbie, Taking Back Sunday, Ziggy Marley, Underworld, The Wild, Quasimoto, Barney Bentall, Yesterdays New Quintet, Mayer Hawthorne, Lunch At Allen’s, Kensington Market Jazz Festival, The Cadillac Lounge in Toronto, Crystal Shawanda, The Mission UK, Cracker, Daniel O’Donnell, Madvillain, Frank Black, BadBadNotGood, Diana Panton, KRS-One, Aloe Blacc, Pete Rock, 54-40, Bonnie Bramlett, Janis Ian, 98 Degrees, Sundy Best, Emilie-Claire Barlow, Paul Oakenfold, Jake Miller, Solomon Burke, Devin Townsend, J Rocc, The Black Angels, Megadeth, Carl Cox, DJ Dan, Barbara Cook, David Archuleta, Downchild Blues Band, John Zorn, Leeroy Stagger, Ghostface Killah, DJ Drama, Slaughterhouse, Shooter Jennings, Everclear, Cormega, Andre Rieu, Dearly Beloved, Carole Pope, The Standstills, Diemonds, Secret Broadcast, Die Mannequin, Steve Earle, Dillinger Escape Plan, Raekwon, Matt Dusk, High On Fire, Slum Village, Christina Martin, Indian City, Autorickshaw, Bif Naked, Carl Dixon, Ori Dagan, The Smithereens, Carol Welsman, Bruce Cockburn, Hatebreed, Streetlight Manifesto, The Mahones, The Game, Thursday, Eric Bibb, Mick Fleetwood, The Prodigy, Third World, Duke Robillard, Heather Bambrick, Michael Kaeshammer, Jay Douglas, Max Parker, Myles Goodwyn, The Spoons, Madlib, Dio, Deborah Cox, Honeymoon Suite, Ian Anderson, Kim Mitchell, Pop Evil, In Flames, Amy Helm, Barbra Lica, Polina Grace, Maestro Fresh Wes, Katharine McPhee, Lorraine Segato, Tom Wilson, Ministry, Miss Emily, Georgia Anne Muldrow, Ray J, RJD2, Jurassic 5, DJ Z-Trip, Alchemist, The Kings, Chali 2NA, Steven Van Zandt, Gino Vannelli, The Boxer Rebellion, The Irish Rovers, King Crimson, Jean-Michel Jarre, Michel Petrucciani, Steve Hackett, Mastodon, All Time Low, Madness, The Cult, Jim Jones, Tom Russell, The Guess Who, Turbonegro, Charlatans UK, Master P, Asking Alexandra, The Trews, Los Lobos, Steve Forbert, Jesus Jones, Howard Tate, Electronic, Freddy Cole, Stereolab, Tim Booth, The Nylons, Christine McVie, RZA, The English Beat, Porcupine Tree, MF Doom and hundreds more.

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herd-reject-arts · 4 years

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TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS SHIZ!

IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE A SKINNED SQUIRREL, KINDLY AVERT YOUR EYES!!

I'LL TRY TO TAG THIS IN EVERY WAY I KNOW SO SOMEONE DOESN'T ACCIDENTALLY SEE IT WHO DOESN'T WANT TO

I'M GONNA JUST TYPE RANDOM STUFF HERE SO THIS WARNING IS NICE AND LONG.

FINAL WARNING BEFORE PHOTOS ⚠

I decided to skin the squirrel tonight. My sister reminded me that there are tons of crows that live in our backyard that would probably take it soon. And skinning it didn't require me to use my knee, so that's good.

It was a lot less weird than when I skinned a fox a few years back. Foxes look too much like dogs, but this dude didn't remind me of any beloved pets and was significantly easier to work with.

I found, during the dissection/skinning that the squirrel is actually male. His testes were inside his body, though, which is interesting. I also tried getting organs for preservation. I was inly successful in getting the heart.

Having no supplies for preservation, I decided to brave the outside world. Everywhere I called was out of isopropyl alcohol, though. So I went searching online and found someone who said Everclear works really well. There's a liquor store less than a mile from me, so I drove down there and got Everclear. Thing is, I'm super sketch when doing stuff like that, so they had to ultra-check my ID (I'm 24, don't worry) and at one point asked why Everclear. I panicked and told them I'm trying to preserve squirrel organs and everyone's out of rubbing alcohol. They got the bottle to me pretty quickly and probably called the cops or something. I'm glad I don't drink so I never have to see those dudes again!

Anyway, not sure if the Everclear will work, but I'll keep everyone posted. If it does work, I'm gonna be happy. If not, I'll have to find someone who will actually drink that shit and give it to them.

The pelt is currently being salted. I've forgotten the process beyond that, so I'm gonna Google things to remind myself.

I took the squirrel's skull and put the rest on a log for whatever carrion animal might need a meal.

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brightbeautifulthings · 4 years

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THE MALL BY MEGAN MCCAFFERTY BLOG TOUR & BOOK REVIEW

"Totally rad! This former 1990s mall teen loved The Mall, an ode to tall bangs, boys with good taste in music, and female friendship, set in the only place that mattered. What a joy to have a new book from Megan McCafferty, who knows exactly how to make us laugh, cry, and fall in love with her characters." -- Amy Spalding, author of The Summer of Jordi Perez and The New Guy

New York Times bestselling author Megan McCafferty returns to her roots with this YA coming of age story set in a New Jersey mall. The year is 1991. Scrunchies, mixtapes and 90210 are, like, totally fresh. Cassie Worthy is psyched to spend the summer after graduation working at the Parkway Center Mall. In six weeks, she and her boyfriend head off to college in NYC to fulfill The Plan: higher education and happily ever after. But you know what they say about the best laid plans... Set entirely in a classic “monument to consumerism,” the novel follows Cassie as she finds friendship, love, and ultimately herself, in the most unexpected of places. Megan McCafferty, beloved New York Times bestselling author of the Jessica Darling series, takes readers on an epic trip back in time to The Mall.

About the Author:

Megan McCafferty writes fiction for tweens, teens and teens-at-heart of all ages. The author of several novels, she’s best known for Sloppy Firsts and several more books in the New York Times bestselling Jessica Darling series. Described in her first review as “Judy Blume meets Dorothy Parker” (Wall Street Journal), she’s been trying to live up to that high standard ever since.

Review:

"Troy's dislikes were about so much more than ridding controversial items from my wardrobe. They were about removing controversial ideas from my brain."

Year Read: 2020

Rating: 4/5

Thoughts: I'm honored to be asked to read this book, since I'm not sure it's one I would have requested on my own. Its title doesn't do it justice. The Mall makes it sound like it's a story about vapid, Clueless-era mallrats--no hate, I adore Clueless and I'm fond of malls, but this story is far more charming than the title lets on. First of all, it's a love letter to the 90s. If the mall of the 90s was your natural habitat as a teenager, then you're sure to enjoy all the nostalgic references to stores that are no longer around, like Kay-Bee Toys, Orange Julius, and Sam Goody. It really took me back to days of hanging at the mall with my friends, stocking up on 10 for $10 jewelry at Claire's, and searching for clearance band/horror movie t-shirts at Sam Goody, Suncoast, and Media Play before there ever was such a thing as a Hot Topic at my mall. I love that McCafferty set her story in this time period, and it's sure to resonate with readers slightly older than the average YA audience.

It's also fun for anyone who's ever worked in a mall, since they develop their own weird inner cultures. Cassie has Kool-Aid and Everclear and a Cabbage Patch Kids treasure hunt; I had urban legends about cursed objects and The Buckle challenge, wherein employees of other stores try to make it to the back wall of The Buckle without being pounced on by another retailer. The treasure hunting plot is fun, not unlike the teenagers trying to crack Russian codes in Stranger Things (without the guns and monsters). It gets enough attention to keep the plot moving, but as in life, it's not always the obvious things that end up having the most impact. The treasure hunt turns out to be secondary to the real plot development of the novel, which is Cassie's self-discovery and her friendship with Drea. It's a funny, moving coming-of-age story that handles its issues with humor and just the right amount of heart.

I like Cassie; she's my people. She's a straight-A student and an over-achiever, and her brand of know-it-all humor is just my style. McCafferty manages to capture that purely teenage arrogance that comes from being one of the smart kids without making Cassie wholly unlikable. She obviously thinks she's too good to work in a clothing store, and the mall is just a holdover until her real life starts in New York. Yet the book pushes her (not always gently) toward a more adult perspective that there are all kinds of worthwhile jobs in the world and that being a snob to people who earn their living in a mall isn't acceptable. I enjoyed her conquering her fears of her ex-boyfriend and discovering new sides of her personality, her cute new summer romance with "Sam Goody", and most of all her friendship with Drea. They're opposite poles, with Drea being the popular, sophisticated friend with panache, and I like how the book allows them both to be vulnerable in different ways. Cassie is far from a perfect person, and she doesn't give Drea's dreams the respect they deserve but, as with the best characters, she tries hard to learn from her mistakes. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

I received a free e-ARC through NetGalley from the publishers at St. Martin's Press and an invitation to join the blog tour. Trigger warnings: sexual harassment, slut-shaming (mostly countered on-page, or at least hilariously avenged), divorce, cheating.

Twitter | Get Your Copy

#book review #blog tour #the mall #megan mccafferty #st. martin's press #book promotion #booklr #ya contemporary #netgalley #4/5 #rating: 4/5 #2020

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lastnightatrfa · 4 years

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Message here!

So, some of you may know that beloved/much maligned user made playlist host 8Tracks is kicking the bucket tomorrow.

I uh, actually have stuff there that I have to manually archive. ...I used a lot of annotations. ouo;;

No posts tonight as a result, because ya girl gon be busy. Stay safe, look both ways before crossing the street and do not drink the blue elixir Rika offers you, it is 90% everclear and 10% blue curacao. It will not be tasty, it will taste like pain.

That is all.

#mod message

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confessionsofabachelor · 7 years

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Five

1. I've been reading about Alton Brown's last visit to Wichita. He is beloved here because dude actually knows our food culture is pretty insane. Harrison Ford frequents Wichita often to get his plane serviced and also brags about the good food here. The more ya know...

2. I've been killing it at work and need to stay sharp. I get bored with success and feel like I need to challenge myself more. There's literally two vendor checks on my dining room table I haven't cashed in weeks...and it's because I don't care. I don't need it, and I feel shitty saying that.

3. I caught an old school Everclear song today, you know the line "lonely and dreaming of the West Coast", that's your boy right now. I need to see the things I love that most people take for granted.

4. Don't get it twisted about the money comment. 8 years ago I was sleeping on the bedroom floor because chic took my bed when she took everything else. I had to boil hot water on the stove to take baths because I couldn't afford the gas bill. I'd spend my last 5 bucks on dog food for Wrigley and would cry myself to sleep on the floor most nights.

5. It's been too quiet in my house this evening. I'm gonna go grab a beer and people watch for an hour before calling it quits because I have to work tomorrow. Hope you've enjoyed this super fun 5!

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bpdbiscuitblog-blog · 5 years

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How Many Did You Take? How Many, My Angel? ***TRIGGER WARNING***

Woohoo is one of my oldest friends. She’s an ordained Wiccan priestess and performed the marriage ceremony for my second husband and me. She’s been my spiritual advisor and counselor since before I was old enough to drink, and I’m 34 now.

Before I was diagnosed with BPD, back when I hit the Big Red Button (the one that says - DO NOT TOUCH because the consequences are catastrophic) on my life, Woohoo was still there for me. I was obviously going insane, up and leaving my 13-year marriage with my then 35-year-old husband and my 14-year-old daughter, Moon, and my house and my entire existence to move in with Gypsy, a 33-year-old failed musician-turned-gamer who lived with his mother and had no job, education, hope for his future, or even basic social skills, where I immediately began a life of weird, unsatisfying, and infrequent sex, binge drinking, and running from past and present trauma-drama. On a positive note, I became a teacher again, a fulfilling experience speaking to my soul, as I am a teacher in more than just career, but completely mentally incapable of taking care of myself, much less a group of 17 8-year-olds, and became overworked, exhausted, and an emotional hurricane in a matter of months.

But between the Big Red Button and the hurricane was a time of destruction and devastation where I used the fires of my own personal hell to burn every possible bridge to my old life that I could, many of them badly in need of burning, as I would never return to walk them again, but others, like the Bridge to Woohoo, one of the few structures still anchoring my rapidly deteriorating mind in reality. Woohoo never traumatized me. She never hurt me. She never sought to control me. But the night I lost my daughter Moon and what remained of my ability to cope with the pain I was experiencing, in my grief and despair, she became just another representation of that trauma, and in the days that followed surviving my suicide attempt (notice I did not say my first suicide attempt) she became one of several targets of my BPD-strengthened rage at that long-buried trauma, a casualty of Hurricane Biscuit, although I was still more of a Tropical Storm back then.

Woohoo is a force of nature herself at times. Just as crazy, just as sarcastic, just as devastating a wit as myself, Woohoo brings with her a kind of controlled chaos, a tornado-in-a-bottle personality, ready to let loose a barrage of her own hellfire if the mood strikes her, but mostly just fun, easy-going, patient, a breeze that could whip up into a frenzied tornado if the mood strikes, but content at the moment just to enjoy the current. Voluptuous, sex-driven, raven-haired, loud-mouthed, and profane could all be used to describe her accurately, as accurately as kind, generous, soulful, and motherly.

I no longer believe in soulmates, but I do believe we have, say, connected souls, and as much as anyone I’ve ever met, she is one of my connected souls. And yet, when she stepped up to do what needed to be done to save my life, I turned my back on her.

She warned me about Gypsy. Told me there was something “not right ‘bout that boy,” in her Oklahoma twang. They had an immediate dislike of each other, Gypsy and Woohoo. Gypsy called her a man-hating feminist. Woohoo called him a lazy, worthless piece of shit, among other things. Neither of them were wrong.

My response to her warnings, over and over again, like a love-struck teenager fawning over a, well, a worthless piece of shit, was a protesting, “But, I love him, Woohoo! He’s my one and only.” (I am now picturing myself striking a dramatic pose, forearm to my forehead, turning away and looking plaintively out the window into a setting sun, while declaring that she just wouldn’t understand.)

I blatantly ignored the mounting evidence that this pairing would only leave me broken and broke, and continued blissfully unaware along my journey of self-destruction, orchestrating a series of events that would leave me running from my home, my marriage, my family. I’m not saying I should have been leaving these things, at least the marriage and the home, but I shouldn’t have been running towards Gypsy, of all people. Woohoo would have been a better choice. She did offer me a place to live, a chance to “get my shit together” in a relatively peaceful environment, free for a few months at least from financial worry, a safe haven to start anew. Meanwhile, I waved merrily from my car window as I drove away, hollering, “Nah, I got this!” as I hauled ass down her driveway, blaring Gypsy’s music at full blast and heading back to the city, to his mother’s house and the tiny 10x10 room that was to be my new prison of my own making for the next several months.

Meanwhile, still unable to communicate the massive amount of emotional stress and pain I was under to anyone, my mind began bringing all my fears and the traumas of my past to bear, forcing me to deal with them however I could. Financially, I was surviving, barely, in no small part to Woohoo herself, who kept my business running mostly smoothly as the day-to-day operations manager, supplying me with a steady income even when I wasn’t actively working.

My ex-husband meanwhile had no intention of patiently waiting out my midlife crisis, immediately replacing the vacated space in our marriage bed with the first woman who would tumble into it. He convinced Moon that my mental state was due to the fact that I was a bad person who did not love her, and therefore she had no need to further associate herself with me.

The day I received that smug text message from him, superior in his position as head of a new family to control, I gave up. Oh, not without setting a few more fires of course, screaming and stamping my foot and using whatever means I could to manipulate my ex-husband into returning my daughter to me, letting me hear her voice, even if it meant terrifying a complete stranger, his new bed buddy, into thinking I was going to share photos of her in lingerie with the world. And where did I get these photos? Oh, Mr. Manipulation himself had provided those just days before when he was so very interested in seeing if I would join them for a threesome. But, that’s another story for another day.

After several hours of realizing that torturing Mr. M and and the future Mrs. M was not going to get me my daughter, my emotions spiraled me into a well of despair that I was not capable of pulling myself out of. I seized upon a bottle of pills, a prescription Mr. M procured from his doctor that I had been told was for helping me with anxiety from my ADHD, but in fact were mood-altering antidepressants that, when prescribed incorrectly, could lead to suicidal ideation.

Google is a useful source for immediate access to the LD50 of literally anything. LD50 is the amount of a medication that will, when consumed, lead to death in 50% of the population of those who take it. The LD50 for this particular medication was 15 pills. I had 30. While texting Woohoo, Mr. M, and the future Mrs. M., telling them my intentions unless they returned my daughter to me, I began counting out 15 pills. I continued the threats as I used the Everclear under Gypsy's bed (where he was currently snoring after taking a dose of Benadryl after a long weekend of my emotional drama), to swallow them one by one. At eight pills, Woohoo warned me that she was calling the police. Hours away from my location, she would never arrive in time herself to stop me. She did the only the she could to prevent my death at my own hands - she narced on me.

At ten pills, for some reason, Gypsy stirred in his allergy-med-induced coma, and seeing me swallow the tenth, realized what was happening. He took the pills away as I screamed at him, “Just five more, please, just five more!” while he screamed back at me, “How many did you take? How many, my Angel?” (Gypsy didn’t call me Biscuit. No one did at this time, actually.) After counting and recounting, doing his own internet search, and counting once more, he sighed with relief, realizing I’d only taken enough to give myself a stomach ache.

My sobs had subsided at this point, and I sat in stony silence as Gypsy stared at me, seemingly in shock at how close I had come to leaving his life, and my own, at my own hand. Then one of those loud knocks that apparently policemen are trained in, one that can echo through a house to the back of a bedroom and enter into even the fevered dreams of a hallucinating woman who just wanted to be happy, smoke weed, and eat a chocolate bar in peace, sounded through the house, setting Gypsy's mom’s chocolate labs off in a frenzied bark as well as my wails of panic.

“Tell them I’m okay, Gypsy. Please, tell them I’m okay. Tell them she lied. Tell them they lied. Can I stay here? I’m so scared, Gypsy.” With an irritated sigh, he put his khaki shorts on over his boxers, pulled me gently to my feet, and guided me to the door. “No, you’ve got to talk to them. They’re going to want to see you.”

As if I was a frightened toddler meeting Santa for the first time, he guided me to the front door. In my head, I was psyching myself up. “You can do this, Biscuit. Just act normal. Act normal. Be angry. If you’re angry, you can’t be sad. If you’re angry, you won’t cry.”

After a heated discussion between me and the cops, a worried discussion between the cops and Gypsy, and phone calls and screenshots of my texts to Woohoo and Mr. and Mrs. M. between the cops and Woohoo, it was decided that it would be in my best interest if I was detained involuntarily at a mental institution for a three-day psych hold.

In the front yard of a house I had only recently moved into, in front of people I barely knew, in front of my beloved Gypsy, I was handcuffed, crying and scared. As the cuffs clicked into place, I could see Gypsy at the front door, watching behind the glass, mouthing, “I love you,” across the void separating me from the only vaguely familiar thing left in my life. Physically, I was being kept safe, but I was being traumatized all over again, my hands behind my back all over again, forced to do something I didn’t want to do all over again.

But what else could Woohoo do? Physical safety trumped mental safety. I could never be mentally safe again unless I was kept physically safe now. At the time, I couldn’t see that. At the time, all I felt was fear and anger. For someone with BPD, fear and anger are terror and rage.

By the time I was released from my prison 48 hours later (instead of 72, as apparently I wasn’t that crazy), my mind had been fueled by this terror and rage for days, consuming my thoughts completely. Unable to turn that rage onto the people who had hurt me, I instead hurled it at Woohoo, now the sole symbol remaining of that night. I stripped her from the business, allowing Gypsy to spew venom through social media as the new voice of the company, coming to my defense as Woohoo tried to warn our contractors that there was something seriously wrong with my mental stability now.

In my gathering momentum of destruction, I decided to strike one more blow against my former friend, business partner, and soul sister: I refused to pay her. I kept her final paycheck, using it instead to shower Gypsy with books and games, gifts for his loyalty perhaps. Meanwhile, Woohoo, still in shock over my behavior thus far, now had to figure out how to make ends meet without the money she was owed, how to provide for my own godchildren, her sweet son and daughter, now just that much shorter of being able to cover expenses.

The only wise decision I made in those days was enrolling in counseling. But of course, showing up to the first session did not instantly make me see what I had done and was continuing to do. That would take time, more self-destruction, more mistakes, more trauma, and finally, finally -- partly due to that first step and the hard work of a southern Biscuit, partly due to the luck of finding her Gravy -- peace.

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baltocourtney-blog · 7 years

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Kevin Morby, Waxahatchee, Mary Lattimore at the Creative Alliance

Sunday, April 2nd brought three wonderfully talented musicians to the intimate room at Highlandtown's Creative Alliance. Singer-songwriters Kevin Morby and Waxahatchee (performance name of Katie Crutchfield) were joined by looping harpist Mary Lattimore. The three artists performed stripped down sets that had the audience listening intently.

Mary Lattimore

The night began with Mary Lattimore playing harp and using a looping device to maximize sound. I've never seen a solo harpist so I really didn't know what to expect. Some of the middle notes sounded as if they were coming from a piano. I don't mean that in a bad way. I had no idea that a harp had such a wide range of sound. There is a disparity between this very large instrument and the gentle sounds it produces

Ms. Lattimore described each song title before she played a composition. One was written for astronaut Scott Kelly and one for her beloved late family dog, Otis. She was happy to say that Mr. Kelly liked the piece of music.

I was completely relaxed after her set. Whatever angst I was feeling earlier in the day had vanished.

Waxahatchee

There was a short intermission before Alabama-native Katie Crutchfield took the stage. This was the last night of their tour and she shared mixed emotions. On the positive side, the three musicians had some wonderful memories, yet she felt a little sad that it was over.

The starkness of a Waxahatchee song about a failing relationship was delivered in a quiet room with maximum impact.

This tour was in support of her newest release, ivy tripp, with songs whose themes explore a mourning of her youth and looking to her future.

Waxahatchee covered Lucinda Williams haunting song Greenville.

Katie played i think i love you from her low-fi release american weekend. I had seen Waxahatchee play with a full band at Charles Village club The Ottobar about two years ago. While I enjoyed the fullness of the songs due to the extra instrumentation, there was something really beautiful about hearing her songs delivered with just her voice and an electric guitar.

Kevin Morby

It was an extra special show since it was not only the last night of the tour, but Kevin’s 29th birthday. After the cake had been consumed, it was time for some stories to be sung. I’m quite fond of Kevin’s phrasing and his soft singing voice.

Kevin Morby partially obscured by a music stand on the right, that was finally used for the last song.

Songs such as Singing Saw and a few from the Harlem River album were mixed in with a Leonard Cohen cover (There Is A War) and Townes Van Zandt’s No Place To Fall. A memorable version of Kevin’s song Beautiful Strangers honors “innocent people who were out living their lives and one day, without warning, had them taken away from them.” The song pays tribute to victims of the Orlando night club shooting, the Paris terrorist attacks, and late Baltimore resident Freddie Gray, who is mentioned in the song. The somber lyrics, along with just an acoustic guitar and soft delivery, reinforced the sadness of random violence and those who died too young.

Kevin listens as a fan wishes him a Happy Birthday.

The Los Angeles resident said how much he likes Baltimore, mentioning friends he has here who have lived in the city for a while. In the afternoon, he visited the beautiful Clyburn Arboretum, because it was featured in one of his favorite scenes from HBO’s The Wire.

As the show wound down, Waxahatchee joined Kevin for an Everclear cover. She bought handwritten lyrics on stage to put on the music stand, so we all realized its purpose (besides obstructing sight lines).

Tour mates Waxahatchee and Kevin Morby sing an encore.

#waxahatchee #kevinmorby #marylattimore #creativealliance #livemusic

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