I feel oddly comforted. In that I’m comforted and you’re odd…

I am a card carrying animal lover person.  However, I am not of the PETA variety.  I think calves are very cute.  I also think they look like they’ll be tasty when they grow up.  I will go out of my way not to hurt an animal, going so far as to near wreck trying to avoid squishing a squirrel.  *Confession:  I care more about hosing the squirrel off my tires than I do the well being of the squirrel.  Anyway, my point is, I don’t want to hurt an animal. But, (and you knew there was one) my neighbor is doing his absolute best to make me change my perspective on that.

My neighbor has a big heart, that probably smells like cat pee.  He runs a home for wayward felines on his porch.  On any given day you’ll see probably 3-10 kittehs around his house.

We had the following conversation the other day:

Me:  Dude, you’ve got another litter of kittens over there.

Him:  I know!  Did you know that they mated with their momma?  (he was genuinely surprised that cats practiced incest)

So, my landscaping is now a massive litter box.  My dogs think it is a buffet.  Every trip outside is a battle of strength and wills to keep them out of the shit box vending machine that my rose bush has turned into. It makes me angry.  I yell at my dogs.  My other neighbors probably think I’m a crazy bitch. That makes me mad at those f’ng cats!  It makes me want to electrify my mulch.  It makes me a cat hater. I don’t want to be a cat hater.

Did you take British in school?

In preparation for when I’m old and feeble, I’m buttering up the one person who will be young enough to drive me around–my niece.  For the past couple of months we’ve had one evening a month where I take her out for dinner and ice cream.  Sometimes we do a little shopping.  On the last visit, we went to TJ Maxx because I was in search of a new tea pot.  My current one is just not cutting it.  I was lucky to find the perfect tea pot and I start speaking in my best (horrid) British accent and my niece says, “Your British accent is so good! Did you take British in school?”

 

Yes, Olivia, I did take British in school.

It’s not so much about portion control as it is portion dominance

I love musicals. Life is a musical inside my head.  I would marry a musical but they would have to make polyandry legal in the US first.  I even liked Grease 2.  Hell, I bought the soundtrack to Grease 2.  So, imagine my excitement when Rock of Ages came out on DVD. I just finished watching it and well, I might have to give back my PFLAG card for what I’m about to say.  This movie sucks giant, sweaty, donkey balls.  Its only redeeming quality was the duet with Alec Baldwin and Russel Brand singing REO Speedwagon and that was not great. Oh, and Russel Brand’s wig made him look like a pre-operative, trans Joan Jett. His hair is rock and roll enough all by itself.  They didn’t need to put Cindarella’s front man on his head.

First, look at the acting and the casting.  The lead guy, Dru, he looks like a Disney cartoon with that mooney face and dimple chin.  Looks like Gaston jumped off the screen and grabbed a Flying V. The female lead, she’s cute enough but her singing voice sounds like Taylor Swift on a helium nasal cannula. Oh, and lets not forget the real star, Mr. Tom “Jump the Couch” Cruise.  So, I figure the conversation with the director when something like this….

Tom:  What’s my motivation?
Director:  Basically, just play your normal, egomaniac space alien self but pretend you have really severe scoliosis.
Tom:  I’m on it.

It looked like it was choreographed by 12 year old me, after I watched Grease 2.  The worst part about it was the singing.  The songs are my favorite part of musicals but the singing was wrong. I’m not saying that were bad singers, but they were Broadway singers and they way you have to sing for Broadway is completely different from the way you sing a rock and roll song. These were arranged as rock songs but sang with a Broadway style and it was just wrong.  It sounded like if Josh Groban put out an album of Def Leopard covers with the original arrangements.  It’s wrong.  It kept taking me out of the movie.

They should have looked Moulin Rouge as a guide, they did rock songs in a Broadways style but they were arranged in that style. Or like Rent, those guys knew how to sing their genre.  At the very least, they should have taught them to forget all their formal singing training and sing it like rock stars. It was so bad, I fast forwarded through all the songs.

In my movie rating scale, the highest praise I can give is it is a “watch on opening night” kind of movie.  I would rate this one, “watch it if it comes on TNT and you’re too sick to get up off the couch and find the remote.”

 

I spend one Saturday a year feeding disoriented bees.

I recently had my annual visit to the girlie doctor.  As I was leaving, I passed a girl who appeared to be no more than 16 and was quite obviously pregnant. This made me sad, but not for the reasons you assume. First, she was probably older than she looked (I hope).  So, even if she was only 16 it does not make me sad that a 15/16 year old girl is having sex.  Hell, that is what our bodies are screaming for us to do at that age.  It made me sad because she either didn’t know she had options to protect herself from that situation or that she was told that abstinence was the only way and therefore just didn’t try.  The thought that she would do that on purpose is too frightening to even consider, so I wont.

I just don’t understand the abstinence only philosophy for teenagers. It is not realistic and it is dangerous.  Should15 year olds have sex?  No.  Do 15 year olds have sex?  Of course. They should be shown how to protect themselves and be prepared for the situation.

Making birth control available to teenagers does not equal a license to have sex.  Trust me on this one, I was lucky that my Mom realized this and prepped us.  Did she then allow our boyfriends to stay over?  HELL no, I had to sneak around like every other teenager and it is a LOT harder to do in a town as small as Oceana, WV than it would be in Johnson City, TN.

 

That is sooo Butt Unknown

I’ve been doing a lot of traveling recently.  I went from never having been on a plane to being on 10 planes in a month.  One thing puzzles me.  Why do airplane seats recline in the first place?  What kind of douche canoe rams his seat back into the face of their neighbor to the rear without so much as a ‘how do you do’? Now, my flights were relatively short.  The longest was close to 3 hours.  So, I’m not talking about one of those  8 hour inter continental monsters.  I’m talking about the flights so short you don’t even get a blanket.  What makes you so important that I have the whole 3 hours to judge the quality of your anti dandruff shampoo? Next time, don’t be surprised if you have a little lingering back pain from a well place knee.  Or perhaps the lingering cold from a well placed sneeze.  Just saying.

As I ponder, weak and weary

Another installment from the annals of the brain of Beth in the “why?” category.  Why are we embarrassed to talk about bodily functions?  I understand why you might not want to hear about them over a spaghetti dinner, but why are we embarrassed?  And why are we only embarrassed about certain functions and not others?  For example, no one has a problem saying they threw up, tossed the cookies, vomited, regurgitated or lost their lunch.  However, you’ll rarely hear someone say (frat boys and 10 year olds excluded, of course) that they shit themselves into next week. Why is it OK to talk about projectiles from one end of the digestive tract but not the other?  Neither of them is pleasant. Neither of them have the sweet smell of roses.  They both can be quite unpleasant and painful, yet only one of them is not talked about. Does it stem from the fact that one happens in the confines of the WC (hopefully) while the other you can do in public without any serious repercussions? Is that why when a girl throws up after an evening of festivities, a potential suitor might offer to hold her hair?  Bet he wouldn’t extend the same offer in the other scenario.

 

Things that make me go hmmmmmm.

 

It’s new and improved!

How can it be ‘new’ and improved?  If it is ‘improved’ it how can it be truly new?  Does not the word improved, by definition imply the prior existence of the object in question?

Anyhooo, I am making a huge job change and it is scary as hell. I’m leaving the relative comfort and safety of fifteen years tenure (that and $1, I could buy a bag of chips) for the land of clinical informatics. I am super excited about the work I’ll be doing.

Oooooh Gurl, you’ve got SHEMAIL

I love all things drag queen. If there is a movie with queens in it, I will rent it. If there is a TV show about queens competing (gasp!) I’ll watch it.  Now there is a show about queens making over real women. I WANT TO BE ON IT!

I first heard about RuPaul’s Drag Race from Henry Rollins.  Yes, that Henry Rollins. I saw him on a spoken word tour and he talked of his experience as a judge on the show. I’m not a big fan of reality shows. But I thought, if it has queens and Henry Rollins, how bad can it be?  Now, I am completely hooked.

The funny thing about Drag Race is that some of the queens I like better in the workroom (as men) than I do on the runway (as women).  Some of them I like better on the runway. Weird, huh?  For example, I love Willam Belli when he’s in drag.  His character is hilarious. She is alternately vapid and razor sharp.  Willam Belli the man comes across vain and mean.  I love Chad Michaels in drag.  Chad out of drag is boring.  But, the winner of Season 4, Sharon Needles is the opposite. I love Needles in the workroom. He’s funny and smart.  Needles on the runway is stupid. She even describes herself as stupid.  Beautiful, but stupid.  Stupid is not entertaining.  Stupid does not take any effort.  Of course, I love the grand dame of all queens RuPaul herself.

There is so much effort and art that goes into drag. I am mesmerized by their talent with makeup and design. Also, it is not lost on me the irony involved in queens teaching real women how to be women again. It sort of supports a sexist ideal. But, at the same time, I feel that it sort of reclaims some of the power of being feminine that so many of us lose. There is power in being fierce and serving up some curvy realness. There is power in the confidence it takes to stomp the runway in three inch platforms and a five pound wig.

They say you can drown in two inches of water. I am that two inches.

More in the category of “WTF?”

The “in loving memory of….” stickers on the back windows of cars.  Is this a southern thing?  A northeast Tennessee thing?  Every time I see that, it makes me thing they bought the car with the life insurance.  Well, unless the car was a total POS, then I wonder how I’d feel about a 1985 Buick Skylark in my loving memory.

Also, I don’t get the reasoning behind putting little memorials up on the roadside, presumably where someone actually expired.  I wonder how many accidents have been caused by people trying to read the teeny tiny print on them.  Hell, people at least make it big enough that I can see it in a drive by. I bet you some psychology grad student out there has done a paper on both of these phenomena.

Oh, and my biggest WTF moment recently goes out to the State of Virgina and their vaginal ultrasound law.  If the state of VA wants to see my vajayjay, they got to at least take me to the steak house first.