An Amateur Historian's Linguistic Annoyance

I'm watching a documentary on the Etruscans. Yes I'm a nerd, this is established. I'm irritated with the historian/archaeology presenters.

First, a thirty-second background on Etruscans because I usually assume I'm the only ancient history weirdo in the room. Please ignore the next two paragraphs if you're already all well-versed in Etruscan history, or medium-versed, or even know the name...in fact, feel free to comment with corrections if I've gotten any details wrong.

Etruscans were the big-time civilization in Italy prior to Rome. They were extremely wealthy, extremely cosmopolitan, and it appears they were extremely egalitarian when it came to men and women. Greeks didn't like Etruscan women because they ate with their husbands (GASP...like equals, like a date where the dude actually wanted to spend time with his wife and hear what she had to say? What the fuck, Etruria?), they read, wrote, rode horses, they had their own names (OMFG, they weren't just named after their daddy-owners like Roman women, waiting to be passed off to their husband-owners?), they were treated as equals in parenting (as seen in funerary monuments identifying the dead as "son of" or "daughter of" BOTH parents' names), and they had the gall to be both athletic and sexual.

Etruria (now Tuscany) was eventually conquered by Rome and much of their art/customs were assimilated into Roman society...the ones they found useful, anyway. Similarly, Etruscan families were eventually assimilated into Roman society. The loss of female standing and cycle back to male-dominated society when the Etruscans were all Borg'd into Rome isn't what makes me irked. Over thousands of years and the rise and fall of tribes and civilizations there seems to be cycles of one sex dominating the other with periods of equality popping up here and there. That equality is never perfect and always relative to the surrounding nations, just as it is today.

All of these tidbits are presented in the documentary by historians and archaeologists who've studied and made assumptions/conclusions/maybe guesses about Etruscan society as a whole based on the evidence at hand.

This is not what irritates me about the otherwise awesomely fascinating documentary.

It's annoying as hell to talk about women's rights as GIVEN TO THEM by the men of the society. When a PhD or respected historian uses phrases like "Etruscan women were ALLOWED more freedom than Greek or Roman women" (emphasis is mine) the base assumption is that women don't and didn't have that power to begin with. If there is little evidence other than the facts archaeology and surrounding literature provides (reading, writing, eating, names, etc) why must the scholars make the sexist assumption that women were GIVEN these things?

Maybe they set up their society that way from the beginning. Maybe that society valued both men and women as (again, gasp) people. Maybe women allowed men the power they had.

My point is, there's no way to know, and these sorts of ingrained assumptions are really terrible in innocuous ways. It's easy to take away rights from someone if you are brought around to sincere believe that you GIFTED them those rights from the beginning, not that they inherently have rights to respect, earning and keeping their own stuff, their very personhood. Why is it so damn hard to think that people thousands of years ago might have actually valued all citizens* in their society and built their customs and laws to reflect that value?

I sincerely wish more scholars would take a step back and consider their words and basic biases before presenting conclusions. After all, science (yay science!) has now proven some of those male Viking warrior burials were actually female: undeniably female skeletons with war wounds, buried with war grave goods, assumed to be male only because the evidence said "warrior". Assuming more egalitarian ancient societies were only more equal because the males in charge "allowed" the women freedom and rights is a disservice to that society as a whole. It's important to examine and discard biases and just present the damn facts: women had more power in Etruscan society than Greek or Roman women had. Period.

Perpetuating historical sexism when it actually isn't proven only perpetuates modern day sexism.

*Yes, Etruscans kept slaves, just as many ancient cultures did. Slavery is a different treatise altogether, because if I am for agency and personhood I am for it in every case, which means slavery is both a related and different topic to feminism in historical accounts. Ultimately, just like many other cultures, I think they sucked for keeping slaves. THIS post, however, is about how historians can easily STILL say women were "GIVEN" their basic rights by the men, even when science hasn't provided proof either way.

Reasons I Shouldn't Personally Hit The Snooze Button

Disclaimer: I am not judging your ability or inability to hit said snooze button.

1) It's not actually a button anymore. Seriously..it's a random space in the middle of a touch screen on a device I'm more likely to throw across the room when the stupid noise starts than fumble my ham-hands to the correct fingertip spot on the screen. There are many other button sized things I can do with my fingers first thing in the morning* without triggering cognitive spark in my brain: the snooze button takes actual effort. And yet I do it anyway, because fuck getting up on time. 

2) Yeah yeah, I KNOW it makes me groggy. If I didn't roll over and say "fuck everything" when I woke up, and heaved myself up to a semi-upright impression of any primate I might actually wake up eventually. I'm tired all the time lately, and some of that is likely my hour of hitting snooze, because I fall all the way back to sleep in those 9 minute intervals.

3) Dreaming is a grab bag of fun. Speaking of those 9 minute intervals: I dream heavily during my between-button-fumbles. Sometimes the dream is just put on pause when I have to shut my phone up, and I can drop right back into it. 

Do you have any idea how horrifying that can be? This morning I dreamt I was charged with house/babysitting for friends of mine after their baby is born. No, I don't know why the fuck anyone would go on vacation immediately after, or leave said newborn with ME of all people: it was a dream, it made no sense. And for some reason assassins were trying to get in and kill me (there are way too many windows/doors in that house, FYI). I'm betting it's the same ones who failed to kill me in real life by sending me a fancy new winter hat and forgetting the skin-contact toxins, so NEENER I can wear my hat all winter long and my face won't melt off.

Um. Anyway.

I spent an hour this morning jumping in and out of a weird bad-guys-chasing-me-fight-back-ow-hide-fight-back-ow-HAHAYOUDIEMOTHERFUCKER-hide cycle punctuated by pauses to say "goddammit, not yet" and smacking the top of my phone again.

I should probably mention the secret passages I discovered in my dream in case the current residents don't know about them, shouldn't I?

Disclaimer the second: This is not a post about productivity or being a "look what I did before you even got up today" person. OMG I'm jealous of all of you who are those people, and I only want to kill you for the first two minutes I'm trying to claw my way into consciousness every day, I promise.

*I heard that snicker, and I appreciate the thought, but I meant the shampoo container's cap, the toothpaste, the button to grind coffee beans...etc. etc. etc.

Groupon Offered "Junk Removal" Today. I'm Disturbed.

Then again, maybe I'm the only one who thinks of this in 12 year old terms. 

Of course, I also received a bunch of offers for viagra/cialis and an inappropriate offer for surprise anal. (Um, can I just say that, at least theoretically, pretty much no sexual act should be a surprise?) 

If I don't think about it too hard, the whole thing is funny as hell. Yahoo still thinks I'm a dude with ED and questionable friends. 

If I start thinking about it more, I start wondering if we'll ever get to a point as a culture that sexually inexperienced young chicks are the be-all-end-all for ishy older men. 

Just once I'd love to see a spam ad for a confident, experienced, hot woman (not a GIRL) looking for fun. Not that I'd answer...but you know, at least it'd be a little variety. 

Or I could just delete my spam inbox without bothering to look. I know, I know. It's probably time for some Bloggess coloring books. 

Be Careful What You Ask For?

Every once in a while, people who aren't COMPLETELY horrified at the stuff I think up wonder where the hell I get some of my story ideas. I had a nifty example today...


While sitting in the girl-doctor's office waiting room, no less (before being mildly annoyed that my appointment was being cancelled via phone while I was in line to check in at the reception desk...sigh), the following thoughts strung themselves together in my brainpan and swirled around awhile.


1) Salt was a much sought-after item in ancient times, and could be quite expensive (it was a serious moneymaker for empires to own salt mines).


2) MANY ancient religious practices and beliefs included acceptance and regular interaction with the supernatural. Ghosts, demons, djinn, fairies, sirens/mermaids, etc.


2) Salt, in ritual, is used for protection against malevolent supernatural/spiritual activity. This is not limited to neo-pagan practices: superstitious people still fling salt over their left shoulder if it's been spilled, to ward off bad luck.


SO...

• If salt was relatively scarce outside of coastal areas or next to salt deposits AND used specifically for warding off demonic possessions, evil ghostly attacks, etc., did stuff like the Exorcist happen more often because every household didn't have salt available for protections?
• Does that mean wealthy societies now who have salt on the table every day are protected from said attacks?
• If they ARE...would an apocalypse (zombie or otherwise) result in an increase in possessions/activity as well?

And so, my brain decided that post-apocalyptic survivors would have to deal with demons and the like even within their protections unless they happen to have someone in their new society who can banish and protect them all. And what would THAT look like?


Yeah. That's the shit my head comes up with when I'm bored. Be glad you don't live in here people: it's a weird crowded space...


I write to make room.

The Return and Demise of Samael

Two years ago, the Starbucks nearest to my house hosted a demon on their drive-through shelf.

As most bad pennies do, he turned up again on Wednesday last week after a snowstorm. I mean, sheesh...evil soul-swallowing snow monsters and their regeneration, right? How exhausting.

The Desolate One, Thwarted

Sadly, Samael (The Desolate One) was no match for the mighty powers of uneven melting and physics. Thus he's likely joined his first incarnation's demise. Until next year...

The poor Barista (is a male barista a baristo?) tried three times to stand the little dude back up on his melty not-feet, but alas Samael was just too tired. 

Nope, there really is no point to this post. 

"Duran Duran DOES NOT Sing The Song Of My People" (This post is Not Safe For Anyone*)

I seriously considered leaving this entire post blank**, because in this case the title really does say it all. Honestly, I laughed so hard at that one (which was dropped during what I thought was a totally normal conversation) I wheezed and cried a little.

Also? Since I generally anonymize my friends/family on this blog unless they say otherwise, you, sir, MIGHT need to be Duran Duran (DD?) here until I come up with something worse. If there is anything worse.

Then I remembered other ridiculous things said/heard lately, and realized it's been a while since I put into the interwebverse the oddities I get myself into.***

1) A friend (not DD...I'll need a code for him) sent me a picture of a statue of Jesus with the following caption: "Medusa 1, Jesus 0" I approve.

2) An ongoing discussion with DD about whether Aliens might've turned out differently had Newt been a teenage boy with a BDSM fetish. The logistics alone of breaking an alien to a collar is astounding, really, particularly since the only defense (as per the AVP movies) against corrosive alien blood is alien skin.

Yeah. THINK ABOUT THAT for a while. Facehugger condoms. A scarred up young man meeting the Marines and Ripley with a couple aliens on leashes.

Recently in one of my news feeds about writing I found a couple of magazines looking for horror/monster porn...seems apropos. (No, I'm not writing it. The discussion is enough).

And finally, 3)  While in a discussion with fellow degenerates (no codes yet: I'm working on it) about dietary choices that quickly devolved into something far worse, the question came up whether vegans are allowed to swallow during oral sex, or if that's a violation of the code.

Stop chortling, asshole, it's a real question!

I am extremely lucky to have a lovely lady in Oly (guess what YOUR new code name is?) who did NOT call me an asshole for asking and to my eternal gratitude and delight answered, "No, it's totally ok since people are consenting adults. But I bet some use that as an excuse not to."

I relayed the message, and immediately we three degenerates wondered about the sort of people who WOULD use veganism as an excuse to cop out of oral sex. And we came up with an alternative for those people to use instead: SPOY.

Vegan Soy Untextured Gluten Free Ejaculate Substitute

Comes in a tube...

*I am not sorry for anything in this post. Except maybe facehugger condoms.

**Yes, the labels I assigned are totally on purpose. Maybe I should be a little sorry for the people who search anything like alien porn and get this post.

Nope.

***No, I don't know what's wrong with me or my friends, but no one can say I don't have interesting conversations with people, and that's something.

PS: Google's spellcheck doesn't recognize the word "veganism" as real. For once, I can't help but agree. Also dear Google, I suppose THIS post lives up to your assumption that I am way too rude for you.

Errant Vegetables In The News

I love Huffington Post. No, I didn't include a link. Yes, that's on purpose.


Not because it's an example of fair journalism (they aren't), nor because of the quality writing (it often isn't), nor because the site is so full of integrity* (definitely not).


*this is a site that doesn't pay any of the writers. At all. They offer "exposure" instead...because bloggers, journalists, writers: we can all make a living on free exposure, right?


Hmm. I wonder what exposure tastes like, if that's the grocery budget?


Anyway, I love Huffington Post because they have the best headline writers.


Examples from today (all in the same section):

• What Science Is - And How And Why It Works
• Oh Neil deGrasse Tyson...I just...wow.
• Yes, You CAN Wear Red Lipstick, And Here's How
• because the basic functionality of how a tube of lip color works is beyond most adults, apparently?
• How To Successfully Navigate a Threesome
• Again, ALL IN THE SAME SECTION (Science!)
• Interestingly, this one pops up (haha) in the Women and Divorce sections as well. Hmm.
• Can You Think Yourself Into A Different Person?
• Are you attempting to invade someone else's brain and take over, like a body snatcher? WHY THE FUCK would you want to do that?
• Clearly, I'm doing meditation all wrong if this is a thing.
• The Latest Science On Having a Rewarding Christmas
• Sigh

And my #1 favorite for the day:

• Here's Why You Should Stop Scaring Your Poor Cats With Cucumbers
• do I really need to say anything here? REALLY?

I Had Too Much Sugar Today

None of these are enough for a single post.

• Someone found my blog by googling "unmanning husband" which sort of baffles AND intrigues me. 
• OF COURSE I HAD TO GOOGLE IT. And I did indeed find the post in question...along with the oddest random assortment of links I've ever seen. Seriously, wtf? 
• Macbeth - A critical reader
• A tumblr site about...well, let's just say I'm not clicking THAT link
• A Newsweek story asking the burning question: are women better grillers than men?
• A book review for some fiction piece set in Sicily
• The dictionary. 
• Someone who shall not be named but is indeed extra evil posted about moist clowns on Facebook. THIS is why I hate social media. 
• It's possible I harbor a bit of loathing now, and revenge plots swirl in my head. 
• Particularly since my equally-evil aunt took that shit and ran with it and tormented me via text about moistened clowns all goddamned day. 
• Just wait until someone finds my blog by searching THAT little phrase. I won't be clicking on any of those links either, FYI. 
• Thor decided yesterday would be an awesome time to poop on my living room floor. Sigh. Because he's a jerk, that's why. He was neither ill nor left overly long. Related: A 100 pound German Shepherd would fit into adult sized Depends, right? 
• I'm supposed to be NaNoWriMo-ing, but I've been in requirements hell at work and have yet to start my NaNo project for the month. Sigh. This weekend is going to be full of uninterrupted, no-social-media-no-TV writing time. I need to catch up, already. 
• I bought paint for my living room two weeks ago. It took me 3 months to finish painting the last corner of my office...I wonder how long that paint will sit in the utility room waiting for me to erase dog-and-kid-and-moving smudges from the walls? 
• OCD people probably shouldn't visit my house. 
• Unless they want to clean...in which case, come on over! I have chocolate. 

Like I said...not a real post today: more of a superball ricocheting off the inside of my skull. 

Who CARES whether men or women are better grillers? 

ISN'T THE POINT TO EAT THE DAMN STEAK?? 

Yahoo Spam Thinks I'm a Cheating Alcoholic

You know, it seems odd to begin with that a separated woman gets emails inviting her to join "married but looking" cheating websites geared towards husbands, particularly when Ashley Madison just got hacked. Thanks Yahoo, but no, I'm not looking for a Asian girl or a fuck buddy named Adriana (who can't POSSIBLY be 18 since I've gotten spam from her for about six years now). In related news, I also don't have erectile dysfunction, so no need for Viagra or "Ta-Da Phil" tabs (Cialis, people...the medical name is "tadalafil", which makes me think TA DA PHIL!). 

Now I'm also getting repeat emails from someplace called Sober Dawn, advertising a prayerful enlightening escape from alcohol and drugs. And from AlcoholRehab. 

And from someplace called Burial Insurance. 

Yes, I think all three of these are related. 

I keep my yahoo email for exactly this reason: it's the one that gets sold when I join a rewards program or order something online. And...I'm sick enough to be amused at the regular cycle of religious dating sites, credit repair sites, and cheating/sex sites. 

I wonder if I can get Ashley Madison on the National Organization for Women's spam list...

Dear Houston: Put The Death Rays Away. I'm Visiting.

If this is my last post due to melting under Texas heat, will someone please scrape what's left of the puddle into the ocean?

I'm heading to the office in Houston for a week on Sunday...my app says the temp will be a balmy 100 (or, if I'm really lucky, 99).

However, I will probably cause all sorts of trouble with a couple disturbed excellently evil hospitable ladies and who knows, maybe I'll get kicked out of another snooty French restaurant?

It'll be a sweaty adventure. With real guacamole, inappropriate shenanigans, and fantastic brisket.

The Time Feminism Forces Me to Defend a...Palin

So today my Facebook feed and news outlets have two rivaling headlines. 

First and most importantly, SCOTUS has effectively shut down all those idiots terrified that Mark and Steve's marriage, or Jane and Sally's, will somehow threaten their own heterosexual homes. And to the national endorsement of equality for people who want to marry, I say YAY it's about fucking time. 

Second, and somewhat more disturbing to me, is the news that Bristol Palin is knocked up again outside marriage. It's not that she's pregnant or that she's not married that bothers me: I could not possibly care any LESS about her sex life or the products thereof. It's the really horrifying hypocrisy I'm seeing by "feminists": a sort of disgusting glee in seeing the poster child for abstinence education brought low by her own sexuality. 

REALLY PEOPLE? 

Let's set aside for a moment the pure nasty and gross behavior involved in smugly shaming a public figure for something that some consider a mistake (I say some because hello, not everyone considers pregnancy a mistake in or out of a legally bound relationship). 

Let me also be clear that I find Sarah Palin utterly disgusting for her politics, and I think abstinence education one of the worst disservices conservative politicians have forced upon teens.  Those are both entirely different posts. 

I pretty firmly believe if you call yourself feminist you don't get to judge another woman's sexuality, PERIOD. 

That means no slut shaming. EVER. 

That means no side-eye about women who have multiple partners, women who have children on their own, women who are completely asexual, women who are in a traditional marriage, women who buy toys, women who take birth control, women who ARE IN CHARGE OF THEIR OWN SEX ORGANS.

No subtle or overt blaming the victim of a sexual crime (she was drunk/smoking pot/on X/dressed like a whore) because deep down you're relieved that it didn't happen to you. 

No moral high-horse "we must SAVE them" attitude about anyone who voluntarily uses their body for money: that includes any sort of modeling, escorts, prostitution, dancing of any kind, porn, etc. (obviously, this point is barring underage or forced/trafficking crimes: I said voluntarily on purpose).  

And no snarky smug "she got what she deserved" judging of an adult woman in her mid-20's who gets pregnant outside marriage. Ugh. 

First, by all accounts I've been able to find, Bristol Palin was paid to do abstinence speaking from the perspective of having been a teen-mom. I don't agree with the abstinence only message in any way, but I can certainly see how that message might be something a 17 year old who'd gotten pregnant by mistake would be willing to speak about. I may not like her choice in message, but I appreciate her willingness to WORK in some way, and I don't judge her choice in which to do so. 

Second, this is not a teenager. Yes, she publicly took an "abstinence pledge" in 2009 and really, it's none of my business whether she stuck to it or not before this. Honestly, I don't care: her bedroom is her business, and she's certainly not the first conservative politician/minister/"moral" public figure to be "caught" living a different life in private than she does publicly. But hey, I know I haven't grown with experience since I was a teen: have you? In fact, I think if you polled a handful of people on the street most would assume a 24 year old woman is sexually active in this day and age: it's not that fucking weird that birth control failed and she got pregnant again. It's pretty likely that because of the pledge she took her abstinence only speaking engagements are over, so isn't that sort of a self-fulfilling unemployment arena? 

I guess I just don't really see any benefit (to me or anyone else) in jumping on a bandwagon of "neener neener you aren't perfect" nastiness just because I don't agree with her politics.  

Third, for those conservatives who insist that a woman's sex organs MUST be owned by a man through marriage contract before creating life, SHE WAS FUCKING ENGAGED, for Gods' sake. Other than the really uber-conservative sects, does anyone really expect an engaged couple to be abstinent? 

As an aside, boy you babies-in-marriage-only types really are going to have issues if male ownership of uterii is the only proper way to have a family, because I'm pretty sure SCOTUS just tossed that shit right out the window...now that it's finally legal for two uterii or two penii to be married without the opposite sex involved at all. And that's just awesome. 

What's horrifying about being caught here is the same people who rail against conservative/abstinence education are the ones crowing about the public shaming of a woman's sex life and her "fall from grace." Um, sorry, but sex and pregnancy don't equal a fall from grace: they pretty much just equal an addition to her family and most likely a career change in her case. So what? At what point do we as a society stop judging mothers by the circumstances of their pregnancy like we have any right to moralize their bodies and choices? 

For the record, I'm thoroughly grossed out that I'm in a position to defend a Palin, but I don't live her life, and I refuse to judge any woman's sexual choices. I suppose as a thought experiment it's good to test the boundaries of my insistence on non-judgement, but ultimately this whole news blitz and social media ishiness just put a bad taste in my mouth. 

On a Friday. 

I'm not impressed. 

SpiderFerns Are a Thing Now??

Once in a while people ask where I get ideas for stories, which I think is funny because I can't STOP coming up with stupid and horrifying combinations in my brain that could be a terrible story. I just don't usually share most of them...I'm weird enough already. 

But while downloading pics from my phone tonight (because I'm out of space...again) I found these:

Either the Fern eats tarantulas, or it's breeding a nest of tarantula legs. 

This is a plant that I discovered at Grandma's farm while I was enjoying a quiet and only slightly-mosquito-filled moment on the porch swing. You know, in twilight those stupid leg-root-things look EXACTLY like a nest of furry tarantula legs. A LARGE NEST of them. They were directly behind my head.

It's possible the sound that escaped my yap wasn't entirely human.

I don't have a story for that one...just the sheer horror of stealthy SpiderFerns lying in wait for unsuspecting prey. Ugh.

That is a set of baby teething keys. 

I broke the rules on a hike the other day in the monstrously large park near my house. I wandered amiably along one of the closed trails (meaning, a large wooden "TRAIL CLOSED" sign across the path) because I chose to assume "closed" meant closed only to horses, not to people. That's not actually as odd as it sounds...the trails in this park ARE open to horseback riding...otherwise my assumption would just be foolish.

Anyway, in the far backwoods trail I came across a completely random baby teething toy tied to a tree. It was the only one around, hanging just off the trail. I was (and still am) creeped out. Why? Because that's no helpful person leaving someone's lost toy where it'll easily be found...it was a CLOSED TRAIL. OBVIOUSLY this is the work of some sick serial killer, or worse some elemental creature intent on luring stupid women who go off-trail to their doom. There are several lakes in the park...I can't discount Lorelei. I watch horror movies, people...bad shit happens when people disturb hanging totems in the woods. I left it alone.

Also, I considered all the different disturbing scenarios surrounding those toy keys for the rest of my hike, and had a decent creepy story outlined in my head by the time I got back to the car.

Today someone posted something about Prometheus on my Facebook wall (yes, I should've been working). And yeah, he's on my list for a Myth post...which I'm terribly derelict in handling this summer. Anyway, the picture was a great eagle swooping down toward a nearly-naked Prometheus bound to a rock. Sad for Prometheus...I'm willing to presume it sucks a lot, having all your innards ripped out daily.

But I immediately wondered what happens when a normal creature eats God parts every day for a bazillion years? EVENTUALLY wouldn't some of the extraordinary features pass to the eagle...you are what you eat and all that? What if the Eagle became aware from ingesting too much God-liver and started to feel sorry for Prometheus, or became friendly with him, or fell in love? Hey, Zeus changed into all sorts of beasts to spawn demigods with human women..it's not out of the realm of possibility in Greek myth.

This post has absolutely no point at all...I have no finalized story for any of these, just random ideas that float around in the brainpan when I let things wander about. There is no "where do you find story ideas" factory...it's just a product of the messed up way I think.

Be glad 99% of it never crosses from random thought to something communicated outside my head...it's weird in there.

Also as a side note, I've noticed a plethora of people in the Eastern Bloc "finding" my blog lately. you know, Belarus, Ukraine, Czech Republic...yeah. Amazingly, the posts with certain labels or title key words are the ones viewed...and so I added some fun labels to this post just to prove that while I may occasionally use provocative words, it still isn't porn. Sorry to disappoint, Ukrainians. 

I Dub Thee "Herman the Moulien"* (pronunciation updated)

So I have a (perhaps foolish) goal to submit at least two pieces of writing every month for publication this year. Yeah, yeah, I know...but it's not a sparkler-and-champagne induced resolution thing like losing weight or some other random general "goal." 

I'd like to say I have a really specific goal, such as writing 1k words every day for a year. But reality is a salty bitch, and I flat out don't have that sort of drive for anything (it's a goal I've tried in the past). 

What I DO have is a 2014 Dragons calendar with fantastic and varied artwork, all of which inspires at least one short story. I have a list of essays/article possibilities. I have two regular outlets for contest submissions both quarterly and monthly. And I am armed with a very large spreadsheet to track all this shit so I can pretend i'm an organized soul. 

I am not organized...you should see my desk. 

Anyway, yesterday was 1/31, and therefore (of course) I was doing last-minute revisions and changes because I had a invite to submit an essay in my email last THURSDAY, and the Glimmer Train monthly contest due by last night with a story only 3/4 finished. 

Why do you care? You probably don't...I probably wouldn't were I you. However, I'm behind on the blog posts I want to write (oh YES there is a spreadsheet tab for those, too) and I'm just too damn worn out today to give you a real/entertaining/funny thing that's in any cohesive form. So, that's my explanation why the rest of this post is completely random shit that isn't big enough for a real post, so it's mishmashed into this one. (Screw you spellchecker: I vote that if "selfie" can live in the Oxford English Dictionary, so can "mishmashed" so there. And how. Neener.)

• My backyard looks like a Honduran jungle. This is not a euphemism for something dirty (I'm looking at YOU and your filthy mind, of which I wholly approve): I do not mean any part of my own person, but the actual fenced-in area behind my living space in which grass and some sort of weird weeds have attempted to swallow the dogs in the past week. Unfortunately, our lawn dude seems to have vanished. I'm afraid of toes and lawn mowers...also, I've never seen the Honduran jungle...so maybe I should correct that and say Mexican or Trini (I've seen those, and so am not a liar). 
• The visitor in our house who appears to have made its home UNDER the cabinet below the kitchen sink has not only eaten every fucking roach trap in the house and NOT died, as any polite rodent would do, but it also chewed into the bag of potatoes and ate some of one. Sigh. Bastard. 
• Herman (I don't know if it's a rat or a mouse or an alien...moulien? at this point, since the fucking thing eats roach poison and doesn't die but it avoids the mouse/rat bait like a damn champ) scared the shit out of my polar bear dog the other night. He tik-tik-tiked out to he kitchen at about 3am (DEMON hour, people) on the tile, there was some indiscriminate scrabbling (I couldn't tell which critter was trying to run, but I can imagine both the Moulien AND Chewy facing opposite directions in the kitchen, legs pumping like mad on the slippery tile and going absolutely nowhere), and eventually Chewy ran back into the bedroom. Of course he came to MY side of the bed, plopped his giant noggin on my pillow and breathed like a stalker all up in my face. I told him to go back to bed...he sighed heavily like I was a lazy bitch and don't I see he's TRYING to tattle here? and lay down on the floor next to my side of the bed. 
• Herman is still out there. I'm considering dipping the poison in peanut butter or nutella or something. Maybe potato slices, since he seems to enjoy russets. He's probably a Rodent of Unusual Size waiting to get my toes while I'm cooking one day. As if I don't have ENOUGH trouble with balance as I already am. 
• Yesterday, I spent most of my afternoon spelling the word "labyrinth" about seventeen thousand different ways seven different ways. Each was incorrect. The caption for the art I was using as inspiration was DIRECTLY in front of me on my desk while I wrote. The caption? "The Dragon's Labyrinth." Awesome. 
• Yesterday, I received one of the best compliments I've ever had about a paragraph I wrote. That's not a funny vignette: just a random moment in which I thought "huh, maybe I don't suck that bad at this" and it made my day. 

And on that note, I'm off to play Mario 3D while sports are happening on the TV. I'm only interested in the Superbowl outcome to find out whether Captain America or Star Lord lost the bet anyway.

*Husband says I should clarify. "Moulien" = mouw-lee-in (mouse/alien). Apparently the mental translation "moo-lee-in" also comes to mind, and makes even less sense than the gibberish I normally accomplish. 

No, I Don't Know Why Either.

I don't have enough of one topic for a funny post tonight, but I have a bunch of weird episodes from the past few days I thought I'd share. 

• Earlier this week, I found the following in my cube garbage can at work: 

But WHY is this even a question?

• WHAT THE FUCK does any of that mean? Is the question whether there's chicken in the breakroom or somewhere else (the CEO's office, perhaps)? Is there more than one chicken? Are there yellow-bellied cowards hanging out with the coffee? I don't know. I don't know who left this in my trash, either.  

We're just going to cover See No and Speak No Evil at the same time...because EFFICIENCY

• Evil and her brother are currently in the wilds of Montana (or, in their Grandpa's back yard in Helena). It's apparently awful to get to Montana from Minnesota this year: Han horked on the descent  into Helena (if you've never been, Helena is in the center of a bowl in the middle of the mountains...this girl requires two Dramamine to get there without puking. I have sympathy for little dude.) after running himself into exhaustion at the Mpls airport due to an hours' long delay, (which really affected his parents more than in any way slowing HIM down any). I suspect the picture above is Evil's "good lord, I'm related to that guy!" face. It's possible she's just sleepy. 

• My father has called every day for the past two weeks to ensure Husband and I have NOT opened the "Santa" presents delivered by the super secret UPS people. HA! As though I'm not fully capable of opening and re-taping the boxes? OBVIOUSLY HAN LEARNED IT FROM SOMEONE. 

• I managed to coin "Elftra" on Twitter today. That'd be during a conversation about writing Elf porn, in which I wondered: 
• 1) if Elves would have SPECTACULAR skills and flexibility (being all extra-balancy AND old enough to have tried everything at least once). 
• 2) if we're talking Santa's elves, I'm willing to bet there's a secret adult toy R&D room at the North Pole (probably with eleven elven strippers). 
• 3) either way, Elves would have mastered Tantric sex, right? Therefore...Elftra: three millenia of development, possibly including dragon sex or elvish/dwarf matches. 

• Of course, it was suggested by the awesome Karina Cooper that "Elftra" sounded suspiciously like the character in a She-Ra cartoon. 

"BY THE POWERS OF SKELETOR'S THIGH HIGHS!" 

• If Marvel* were to create a male super hero who got his power from silky ladies underthings (you know, like Thor with his hammer only...softer), what would that power be? And who would have the balls to cross-dress in lingerie for said super powers? 

*I maintain it HAS to be a Marvel hero, because DC would never allow anything so risque as a man wearing a teddy and thigh-highs. Nipple-armor is ok (Batman, I'm looking at you!) but NEVER anything so tawdry as silky drawers.  

I sort of feel I should quit while I'm ahead here. Ahead of what, I really don't know...but it's likely better to stop talking when the babbling about ladies underwear begins. 

What the HELL is in my tree??

In true Texas fashion I've discovered a new horror in my backyard. 

What the fuck IS THIS???? 

I plan on spraying wasp killer on it tonight, in hopes it kills the dancing worm things inside (which move in unison, by the way, because that's not creepy as fuck AT ALL). 

This state is going to kill me. 

UPDATED: Why Yes, I DO Prefer Non-Test-Tube Men, Thanks

Sign on my way to work this morning:

Homemade   males*

Now I'm 99% certain the males in my life of all species in all capacities are 100% homemade by their parents. No plastic Ken dolls here, and no test tube or clones. 

Of course, one can never be certain the body snatchers or Stepford scientists haven't been here, I guess.

Perhaps the Ancient Aliens dude with the super hair has a point? Are Homemade Males off the rack or custom made? 

That's not weird or gross at ALL...

*P.S. Said sign is for a Mexican restaurant; pretty sure it just lost the "Ta" from tamales. 

Which prompts the "what sauce options come with homemade males" question.

UPDATE: the raging discussion at work today is exactly what SORTS of upgrades and add-on options are available from a Homemade Males store.

Sadly, a cleaning option seem to be the most popular (self-cleaning AND house-cleaning were mentioned).

There Aren't Enough Spanx In The World...

This isn't a real post. I just had to point out something horrid.

You know, I don't pay a lot of attention to fashion. My ideal of dressing up is jeans instead of yoga pants.

I noticed when the '80's invaded Target: leg warmers, off-the-shoulder sweatshirts. Headbands. diagonal stripes.

It was a style horror show.

But REALLY? Jumpsuits are back? Jumpsuits with TUBE TOPS are back? Seriously, that wasn't sexy the first time. Tube tops aren't sexy: they're 80's uniboob. And jumpsuits just seem dangerous to a woman with a small bladder, since I assume they don't come with the pee-flap (despite their resemblance to 1885 long underwear). I shouldn't have to get naked to pee.

Black and white paisley tube top jumpsuit...on a 6' tall amazon.

On second thought, maybe I could make it one of those long-sleeved shrug things for my shoulders. 

PS: Blogger doesn't accept "uniboob" is a real thing. I beg to differ, Blogger: anyone with a C cup or larger who's squeezed into a sports bra knows the uniboob.

Excuse Me, I'll Be Hiding Until This Is Over...

Mercury is in Retrograde.
This Friday is the 13th.
AND A FULL MOON over the weekend.

People, I greatly enjoy astrology for entertainment, but I'm telling you...something is rotten in the month of June.

With all the crap going on with the rental house (let me just say WOW, in the most horrified sort of tone, to the extent of hosery involved in using a management company's pet maintenance people for estimates) that is THIS CLOSE to being resolved in way that 1) gets things done in a way that will leave me grocery money and 2) let's me pay someone I know and like, supporting HIS business instead of a big company, I'll be lying low until this superstorm of astrological asshattery is over.

We still have stuff to unpack anyway...lying low is the ideal state for the time being.

I'm not kidding you guys, here's the weird ishyness for the week:

1) The city inspector put something on the list of required fixes given to the rental company that was DIFFERENT than mine.

2) Said list included things like repairing the paint on the oven hood (which by the way appears to have been steel-wool-scrubbed to take paint off by the cleaning guy, since it was NOT that way when we left), adding STRING TO THE LIGHT PULLS in the closets, and screwing the back patio step to the structure. Snort. That last one is owned by the association: they're fixing it.

3) Husband started a new job this week. Husband ended a new job today. For very, very good reasons: it was just a bad deal all around. But still, hope springs, hope dashed.

4) My truck's overhead map light/garage opener switch/moon roof switch panel decided to unclip itself from the roof of the truck. I'm not kidding, it happened overnight: perfectly fine Sunday afternoon, hanging by a single clip and the wiring on Monday morning.

5) Just about every normally-scheduled bill we have is extra this month for some reason or another. Mostly because we just moved and the first bill for utilities and such include fees.

I know in the long run things will work out, but holy crap these past two weeks have been an exercise in keeping my sanity through frustrations on almost every front. I think it's clear what has to happen here.

Margaritas. There will be many, as soon as these repair shenanigans are handled.

And a good long nap for my crankypantsness.

Oh Groupon,You Sneaky Assassin

Today, nestled in the innocuous Groupon email offers for tasty dinners, pedicures, and odd products, there was a super awesome opportunity for cheap Skydiving.

Let's not focus on how I'd rather pay full price for a death-defying activity for now. I'm not against skydiving: I'd be interested except I'd barf on the poor tandem person I'm strapped to, resulting in said tandem person unstrapping me out of sheer disgust (and blindness), resulting in my horrific splatty death.

Ok...so maybe skydiving isn't for me.

Regardless, the actual description is as follows:

IN A NUTSHELL
After 15 minutes of training, you'll enjoy a free fall from 10,00 ft. and gentle landing while strapped to a USPA Certified Tandem Master.

I'm not sure about you, but I'd want more than 15 minutes of fucking training before I scream my way through a 10,000 foot fall and  gentle splat.

I'm on to you, Groupon.

Dear Russia: Goats, Unicorns, Babies, Spam can all be found here.

I'm amused that some of my labels increase the Russian and Eastern European traffic exponentially. Since said labels are "This Isn't Porn" and "These Are Not the Penises You're Looking For" I'd say they're not reading closely enough...after all, I think it's pretty goddamned clear.

So hello, all you porn-surfing-peeps who accidentally arrived at my page! For you, I have the dirtiest picture currently in my phone. Behold the filth:

I'm unimpressed.

You guys know this will only increase my religious dating/enlargements/get-a-loan-now spam quotient, right?