Thursday, June 30, 2011

Abbreviating Words

So just now I was just telling friend Katie about how attractive all my friends are. Please see the evidence below.




Yeah that's right. You should all be jealous.

So while talking to Katie I used the word "uggo," which made me laugh uproariously alone here in my office. Then I started thinking about how frequently I abbreviate words. And how the abbreviations would annoy Jan and save me probably 1 quarter of a second. I think if I added up all the time I saved abbreviating words I would have enough time saved to bake myself a pie. Except I wouldn't. Whatever time I save I use oversleeping, walking really slow, talking about feelings and hugging. 

Here is a list of abbreviations I like using. 

1) NBD
2) tots
3) adorbs
4) sers
5) uggo
6) yog
7) theraped

I will now use all of these in a sentence. 

"Yesterday on my way to yog I saw a dog who was sers tots adorbs. Then on my way to get theraped I saw a dog who was a bit of an uggo but I wanted to pet him anywho. NBD."

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Scratching Bugbites

So I just recently got back from Florida and a most wonderful vacation with my family. I have returned home with many happy memories, a wicked sunburn on my shoulders, a rash on my lower back from god knows what (sensitivity to the salt water?) and about 15 of the worst bugbites I've ever had on my legs. I mean those bitches are ITCHY. I wore pants today (as opposed to a skirt for those of you who might've thought I went to work yesterday pantless) so it would be more difficult to scratch them, but to be honest scratching them with the denim of my pants is almost as pleasurable as scratching them with my fingernails.

So I have terrible allergies. One night my body broke out in hives. So I took a benadryl. The next morning I broke out in more hives so Jan decided to take me to the emergency room. Once I knew I was going to the emergency room I gave myself permission to itch. OH GOD IT FELT SO GOOD. The entire time in the car I scratched my legs and arms and stomach. It. Was. Heaven. 

I am pretty sure there are few things in the world that feel as good as scratching your bug bites. I have decided to make a list here of what I believe those things to be.
 
1) Peeing when you have held it for a SUPER long time and thought you were gonna burst.

2) Falling asleep when you are super tired.

3) Getting kissed on your neck. Come on. That shit's rockin.

4) Petting dogs. Did I mention I pet 3 dogs last week? Yeah. I did. And this morning I made eye contact with a beagle who wanted me to pet him. It was awesome.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Felicity


Felicity, everyone. Everyone, Felicity.

I thought since I had her in my office I would take her picture. 

Sigh. Isn't she beautiful?

Hugging

Blogspot won't let me post pictures or videos. And also, I feel like I spend more time blogging than working these days.
  
But KNOW THIS:

This morning all I can think about is hugging. Especially people who are wonderful. Oh and hugging dogs too.


the end

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Deb Loves Deep Thoughts, 1

So I am going to Florida in three days for my grandpa's 80th birthday party and a small family reunion, and all of you who talk with me on a semi-regular basis know this is a bit of a big deal because the whole family is worried about being judged by everyone else. It's a little ridic. Then, while talking with my brother on Sunday about my family's various fears, Allan mentioned my mom had complained (somewhat jokingly I can only assume) about how she has nothing to brag about because Allan and I aren't married and don't have children or important careers. This got me feeling (really what doesn't).

I suppose if you were to look at my life from outside (right where you might be sitting) I suppose my life could look unenviable. I am almost 30 and unmarried. I am not even in a relationship. I work at an administrative job that I plan to someday leave, but haven't yet decided for what. I rent. I live with a roommate (albeit an awesome one). I don't own a car. I'm fat. I have a lot of debt. I cry all the time. I have panic attacks cause the world is so sad. To be honest sometimes when I look at other people's lives, I too think mine looks unenviable.

Well, sort of.

It's strange how I only thought now that my mother wouldn't have anything about which to brag. Because when I think of my life, I feel proud. And there are things I want, but today, walking my bike down the road in the sunshine with Elizabeth, shooting the shit and sweating profusely... well, I think that's a pretty good life there. And maybe I don't technically have a physical thing or person or job about which my mom can brag, but I do have quite a bit of joy that I have worked very hard to obtain. And maybe that doesn't sound like a lot to people who have spouses and children and cars and houses, but here, inside myself, it is an overflowing cup of awesome.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Things Deb Wants: Part 1

So yesterday Soul Twin and I were in the car for a grand total of about 6 hours. This means we talked about feelings for 6 hours, so one would think I would have no more feelings to share. One would think wrong. To be honest when Sara dropped me off at my house I still felt like there was more to say. Good thing my Soul Twin and I have the g-chat. 

Soul twin recently shared with me this blog in which the author goes on a self-induced "spending fast." This means she spent no money on non-essentials (even things that I personally consider essential, such as going to the movies and expensive hair cuts) for an entire year! I am in awe of her. 

I recently went on a bit of a spending spree. My recent weight gain, paired with my new attitude about my RIDICULOUSLY AWESOME body resulted in the purchasing of almost an entirely new wardrobe. And even though many of the pieces were free (another shout out to Jan!) it was a lot of money spent.

Now since "Things Deb Loves" has recently become a place where I share ridiculously personal things with all you peops (to be hoenst I'm only surprised I was able to keep my deep feelings in for so long) I will share with you that I have often struggled with my finances. I am  not only an over-eater but an over-spender (oh surprise). And, if we are going to think of it in the very simplest of terms, they are for the same reason. I eat to feel good, and I spend to feel good. Well that and I spend because I'm lazy and don't want to cook, as evidenced by my love of bagged, un-organic Caesar salad. But laziness is not the point.

Now, every person is different, so my idea of what constitutes a necessity (i.e. haircuts with Leila, going to the movies with Nickers, yoga class etc.) is going to be different from anyone else's, but I feel like the exercise itself is so important. Separating what we need from what we want, I feel, can be invaluable. Well that and I have been in Credit Card debt since I became a legal adult and though Sallie Mae is forever I would like to be debt-free in some capacity at some point and the only way I'm going to be able to do that is by paying off that debt right? right.

So I began this exercise here at my desk. And all the sudden I felt overwhelmed with wanting things. So I thought I would share with you all the ridiculous and/or awesome things on which I would like to spend my money but from which I will refrain.

1) A Two-Day pass to the Newport Folk Festival.


 When I look at that lineup I literally shed a tear. 

2) A tutu.

Elizabeth sent me a link to a garage sale going on today where the woman is selling a purple tutu. So now I want one. Like a lot.

3) A wicker basket for my bicycle.

Yes, I know I already have a bike rack and panniers (panniers that are so awesome that a fellow bike rider told me she thought they were cute while I beamed with so much pride you might think I had stitched them myself), but I still want a wicker basket to put on the front. Because they look so cute and earthy! 

4) A dog that resembles a small bear


Sara and I met one in the parking lot of a liquor store yesterday. His owner told us he weighed 140lbs which is actually more than many of my friends weigh. You can imagine that when I saw him across the parking lot I wept with joy while sprinting to meet him and throw my arms around his hairy dog neck. 

As a side note, I would accept the following in lieu of said dog.


Okay, so I'd prefer the latter. But you can't really order Galifinakis online. Cause if you could I already would have. Duh.

Friday, June 17, 2011

Bagged Caesar Salad

I am one of the most supremely lazy cookers in the world. Is "cooker" a word? I don't think so. But I am certainly not a chef. And "person who cooks food" is too long. So lazy cooker. That's me.

I technically know how to cook (thanks, Jan!) but the only time I ever liked it was when I was unemployed. And that was because I didn't have anything else to do, so putting on some tunes and chopping onions for 30 minutes sounded like a great idea. But now the LAST thing I want to do when I come home from work is make anything. And as summer approaches (slowly and FINALLY surely) I find I crave salad more than soup. BUT I am SUCH a lazy cooker that the idea of chopping, washing, and drying fresh lettuce makes me want punch myself in the face.

Enter the beauty that is the bagged salad.

For my birthday this year I had some people over for dinner. Jan encouraged me to purchase 3 Caesar salad bags to add some variety to the meal. But I was so stressed out over preparing the lasagna (the baking of which took about twice as long as I thought it would) that I forgot to prepare the salad. So for the week following my birthday that's what I ate: leftover lasagna and bagged salad.

This is why I love Bagged Caesar salad:

1) Caesar. Dressing. Is. Delicious. Back when I was on Weight Watchers I would only eat fat-free raspberry vinaigrette or fat-free Italian dressing. Barf. First of all, I don't like fruit on salad--well unless it's dried. Or beets. But beets aren't a fruit. They are just sweet like fruit. Mmmm. Beets. Anywho, if I don't like fruit on my salad WHY would I like fruit in my salad dressing? I didn't and I don't. I spent all that time eating dressing I didn't even like. Sad. Face.

2) Croutons. Back when I was on Weight Watchers I would never the Croutons. And then back when I was trying to cut wheat out of my diet I would never eat Croutons. Here's a secret: I fucking love croutons. Little crusty, crunchy, delicate bread nuggets? YES PLEASE.

3) Romaine Lettuce. It is almost sweet. I wonder if Dole adds sugar to it when they are washing and bagging my lettuce. Either way, Romaine = lettuce candy.

4) Parmesan Cheese. Mixed with the Croutons and Lettuce? THANK YOU.

5) It's all there. In a bag.

The one sad thing about my love of bagged salad and lazy cooking is that I am somewhat of an advocate for the slow food movement and for local agriculture, neither of which are supported by bagged salad. Especially because I don't even buy the organic kind. I am pretty sure the Parmesan cheese in that PERFECTLY SIZED LITTLE VACUUM SEALED BAG is coated in some sort of corn by-product. 

But I guess you can't win 'em all.

As a side note I would like to share the following.

1) I can't stop listening to this song. But then again why should I? IT. IS. SO. AWESOME.

Make my body big and strong, INDEED!


 2) I just read this article that I found on my boss's desk while cleaning out his office. I would like to feature my favorite part here, though I encourage everyone to read the whole article. It's really quite incredible. And, as you probably assumed, I added the italics.

"I recall one of the strangest conversations I had in the city. A woman came up to me at a party and said she had been moved by a piece of writing I had published. She confessed that prior to reading it, she had never wanted to talk to me, and had always been sure, on the basis of what she could see from across the room, that I was nobody worth talking to, that I was in fact someone to avoid.

But she had been wrong about this, she told me: It was now plain to her that I was a person with great reserves of feeling and insight. She did not ask my forgiveness for this brutal misjudgment. Instead, what she wanted to know was—why had I kept that person she had glimpsed in my essay so well hidden? She confessed something of her own hidden sorrow: She had never been beautiful and had decided, early on, that it therefore fell to her to “love the world twice as hard.” Why hadn’t I done that?

Here was a drunk white lady speaking what so many others over the years must have been insufficiently drunk to tell me. It was the key to many things that had, and had not, happened... If you are a woman who isn’t beautiful, it is a social reality that you will have to work twice as hard to hold anyone’s attention. You can either linger on the unfairness of this or you can get with the program. If you are an Asian person who holds himself proudly aloof, nobody will respect that, or find it intriguing, or wonder if that challenging fa├žade hides someone worth getting to know. They will simply write you off as someone not worth the trouble of talking to.

Having glimpsed just how unacceptable the world judges my demeanor, could I too strive to make up for my shortcomings? Practice a shit-eating grin until it becomes natural? Love the world twice as hard?

I see the appeal of getting with the program. But this is not my choice. Striving to meet others’ expectations may be a necessary cost of assimilation, but I am not going to do it. 

Often I think my defiance is just delusional, self-glorifying bullshit that artists have always told themselves to compensate for their poverty and powerlessness. But sometimes I think it’s the only thing that has preserved me intact, and that what has been preserved is not just haughty caprice but in fact the meaning of my life... In lieu of loving the world twice as hard, I care, in the end, about expressing my obdurate singularity at any cost. I love this hard and unyielding part of myself more than any other reward the world has to offer a newly brightened and ingratiating demeanor, and I will bear any costs associated with it.

The first step toward self-reform is to admit your deficiencies. Though my early adulthood has been a protracted education in them, I do not admit mine. I’m fine. It’s the rest of you who have a problem. Fuck all y’all."

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

The Size Acceptance Movement

So recently I decided to never diet again. It's been pretty awesome. Along with this goes the decision that I am not going to ever again consciously try to lose weight--I am going to let my body be, fat or not. This is a difficult decision to make in our current culture, and though I have some supportive friends, they all have their own body issues. So I turned to the internet for guidance. Now this sounds shady, but I have found some amazing teachers. Like this woman. And this one. And this one. I frequent these blogs, read the comments. And though it is a sad excuse for a real community of people with whom I can physically connect, it is such a relief to know there are people out there in the world who aren't waiting to do amazing things until they lose weight. People who are working hard to accept and honor their bodies the way they are now and not 30 pounds from now. When I think about the years of struggle, the numerous diets I tried, all the times I exercised because I thought it would make me thin, or ate a Boca Burger because it had less calories than the Morning Star brand, all the times I ate frozen yogurt when I wanted ice cream, all the times I let members of my family lecture me about my weight... What did I want all that time? I wanted to be happy. I wanted people to love me. And I thought the only way to do that was to be thin.

And lucky for me, I was so wrong.

I got pretty skinny the year before last. Well maybe not skinny, but thinner than I had been since middle school. And no lie it was AWESOME. I could shop in normal stores, I bought a cute bathing suit, I would run into people I hadn't seen in a while, and they would tell me how good I looked, or, better yet, not even recognize me. And then recognize me. And then tell me how good I looked. 

And what's funny is the more people tell you you look good the more YOU think you look good. Well, for a while anyways. For about 3 months I thought I was the most attractive person in the whole effing world. And then, I didn't. After those 3 months it was status quo. I remember I would wake up the morning after a big meal convinced I'd gained weight overnight and would be shocked to find my pants still fit.

Then I hurt my shoulder. Then I got pretty depressed. Then I stopped doing Yoga. And then my pants really didn't fit. 

It felt like a death sentence. Back to the plus-size. Back to the old lady swimsuits. Back to hoping no one would look at me, let alone recognize me. I thought I had failed. Failed so deeply

But lucky for me, I was still wrong. 

Another funny thing: the whole time I was shopping in normal stores, buying cute bathing suits, having people so happy to see me, I never thought the problem was outside myself. I was thinking, FINALLY I earned all this. Finally I deserve this because finally I am thin enough to be loved. I never for one minute thought the problem was with the stores that didn't carry my size in regular clothes, let alone bathing suits, or that people would be excited to see me whether or not I'd lost weight because people like me (oh, surprise, Deborah!).

And then, after a couple years of therapy, and reading the blogs of the ladies above, and discovering online stores that carry beautiful clothes in my size and buying myself (probably too many) of those clothes that fit my body right then/now, and reading Linda Bacon's (yes, that is her real name ) Health at Every Size (which I'm pretty sure every person in the world should read) twice, I decided my body and I were okay. I wasn't gonna fight her anymore. I was gonna let her do her thing.

This means acknowledging that fat people (including myself) can (and probably should) do the following:

1) Wear clothes they like. Even if they are "unflattering." Like skinny jeans. I am going to buy some. Because I kind of want to show off my chunky legs. Because lately, I am KIND OF into them.

2) Move joyfully, whether it be dance, yoga, hiking, biking or having sex. I suppose there are other things a person can do to have fun, but those seem like the best ones to me.

3) Have sex with people who think your body is rockin. Just as it is. And then, when he/she tells you he/she thinks your body is rockin, stop fucking arguing with him/her. Even in your own mind. Accept it. YOU. ARE. HOT.

There are other things a person can do, but to be honest those are really the only three I care about. I want to be able to dress cute, dance around like an idiot, and have sex. Is that so much to ask? I think not.

Not to say everyone shouldn't have these things. Not to say EVERY PERSON is not deserving of some good body lovin'. Every person is. Fat or thin or whatever. It's just that fat people got a bad rep. Everyone hates their body (or so it seems) it's just that it's socially acceptable to hate fat people's bodies in addition to your own. And to be honest I think THAT is the epidemic NOT obesity. What about focusing on how almost every woman in America hates her body, instead of focusing on finding more ways for her to judge her body from a younger and younger age? You heard me, Michelle Obama.

So maybe some men won't be attracted to me. And there are some people who are going to try to tell me I am unhealthy. And there are some people who will continue to cringe when I call myself fat, not as an insult but as a simple description of my own body. And there will be people who will look at me and assume I never move, and that I eat cake everyday (which I kind of do, so I guess that would be an adequate judgment). But who's problem is that? Oh, yeah. NOT MINE.

To celebrate this I would like the share the following pictures of fat people doing cool things/having cool hair.

Um, HOLLA.

 

And this woman is an awesome ballroom dancer.


This woman has pink hair. (WHY DON'T I HAVE PINK HAIR?!?!?)

No sex pictures. Though I found some. And no, it's not porn. It's this (NOT WORK APPROPRIATE).

Final thoughts: 

I don't have pink hair cause it's expensive. And cause it would fade and then what would I be left with? Pepto-Bismol hair. Not. Cool.

And I just learned how to link things on here. It wasn't hard. But I feel so tech savvy.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Celebrating Birthdays


This is Elizabeth.

She and I have known each other for quite some time, but it was only when fate threw us together in the form of jobs 6 blocks from each other that she became the staple in my life she is today. Elizabeth is so smart and funny and self-aware. She is a miraculously good listener but she calls me out on my crap. I feel like I can always tell her what I'm thinking or feeling. I also feel that, even though we are almost basic opposites when it comes to communication, we both make an effort to understand the other person. This has been quite the gift in my life, as I oftentimes have difficulties understanding people different from me. I feel like being friends with Elizabeth has made me a better person and a better friend. I have infinite appreciation for her.

And today is her birthday!

I think celebrating birthdays is the best ever. Imagine a person who gets super affectionate when they are drunk. That is me with birthdays. When it is a friend's birthday I feel like it is ALWAYS appropriate to give them ample hugs, buy them things, tell them how great they are, hear stories about past birthdays, talk about the implications of age and what we want from life. Every birthday celebration I've ever been to has been the best birthday ever, because I feel like on other people's birthdays you get to lavish them with as much love as they can take. And I have A LOT OF LOVE TO GIVE. 

This morning when I was making coffee I made up a song about Elizabeth's birthday. On the bus I realized I had already forgotten it. Good thing I had recorded it to send to her this morning!

video

One of my favorite things about Elizabeth is she never gets weirded out by how much I love her. Actually I feel that way about all my important people. I don't think I necessarily love my friends more than other people love theirs. I just talk about it CONSTANTLY. I think I tell Diane that I love her about 7 times a day, on average. One time I wanted to text Elizabeth NO LESS than 4 times in one day, just because I wanted to tell her how much I loved her. But I didn't. So of course I had to TELL her that I wanted to text her NO LESS than 4 times in that one day just to tell her I loved her, and she said she wouldn't have minded. What a good friend.

One time for Jan's birthday, I got up extra early and made her coffee and got her a breakfast sandwich and then labeled everything on the counter ( i.e. birthday coffee, birthday breakfast sandwich, birthday newspaper, birthday microwave, birthday coffee mug) with brightly colored post-it notes.

For my Dad's birthday I always like to pick out the sappiest card possible. I only purchase a card if, when standing in the card aisle at CVS, I get teary-eyed. Cause if I get teary-eyed my dad will all out cry. The best is when he reads all of his birthday cards to me. And then cries while he is reading them. I like to call him on his birthday AFTER the mail has come so he can read them to me. It is my faves.

I also love it when my dad sings "Happy Birthday" to me on my voicemail. In his adorable old man voice. It is always the best part of my birthday.

One time for Soul Twin's birthday, she and Jan and I ate burritos and had rainbow chip cake at our house in Jamaica Plain. Birthday parties can be fun, but sometimes it is also nice for them to be small. Because then you usually get to eat more cake because there less people to a) eat the cake and b) judge you for eating the cake. It is important that NOTHING impedes the joy of eating cake. Especially judgement.

Today for Elizabeth's birthday we ate A LOT of Indian Food and then got some Burdick's Hot Cocoa. She told me about what her mom was doing the day Elizabeth was born. Then we went to Anthropologie, where I yelled about how ridiculous Anthropologie is. When I acknowledged I was yelling, Elizabeth said, "I noticed and I don't mind." So then we went to American Apparel and EJ bought herself a birthday scarf. But mostly we made fun of outfits such as this:


Cause that is clearly a dress and NOT pajamas.

It was pretty magical.

On my next birthday I turn 30. Which will be strange. My whole life I've been saying 30 is the very best age (clearly I like to talk about things about which I have no idea) but I suppose we shall see. I am hoping to have a big 30th birthday party where I will wear a dress that looks like this...


Gross. 

My apologies if anyone out there in the blog-o-sphere owns this dress.

But if someone does, can I borrow it? I have a figure skating competition coming up and am low on funds.

The. End.

Monday, June 13, 2011

Terrance and Manny

So I would like to start off this blog with some serious thoughts, and then I am going to take a break from loving serious things for a while, at least via the interwebz.

In my last blog, I said that if God hates anyone he hates people who hate my gays. Or something like that. And after an intense comment, some extensive conversations with Soul Twin and Jan (at 1 in the morning), and Mom, Dad and Brosef the following day, in addition to 2:30am emailing with the Besties, I have decided to share the following: it is hard not to get caught up in hate, and I was wrong to say that. The point of that specific blog was to share the lessons I learned while healing from my brother's death inside my community of lesbians. And though we should all be angry about the civil injustices happening everyday inside our own country and in the world, every conservative opinion has the same complex narrative behind it as a liberal one. Of course, I still think my opinion is the correct one. All those who know me know I am nothing if not opinionated. But I don't do myself (or my dear queer friends or my fellow fatties) any favors by trying to force or shame other people into agreeing with me. I am not apologizing for what I think or feel, but for forgetting that each person has a story to which, as a human being, I have a responsibility to respond with some modicum of compassion.

So that's that.


This is Mimi and her baby, Puppy. Mimi is KIND OF magical. Kind of? Mimi IS magical. And Puppy is pretty much the cutest little bean ever. He is missing some teeth and so his tongue hangs out the side of his mouth. 


GAH. Death by Cute.

Anywho, this past Friday Mimi and I went to a craft night at Mimi's favorite store (http://www.gatherhereonline.com/) and made two friendly friends, Terrance and Manny. They are manatee-birds. Mimi named them thus because, though they are TECHNICALLY birds, they came out looking like manatees with felt wings.


Pretty Awesome, no? Mimi and I are pretty amazing seamstresses... clearly. 

Every time I do a craft project I always end up over-accessorizing and Terrance was no exception. 


Terrance has stars for eyes. But I sewed them too high so it looks like he has two star barrettes in his bird-hair. He is also wearing a necklace with a blue button pendant shaped like a small boy. He also has a pierced wing. It is pierced with a sparkly blue jewel.

When I got home on Friday night I spend 30 minutes sewing Terrance to one of my headbands so that I could wear it to Pride on Saturday. And then, I forgot to put the headband on, so Terrance was left at home. He was pretty pissed. He peed on my bed while I was gone. And then took a crap in my shoes. Don't piss off a manatee-bird.

Now here are some "Things Deb Loves" exclusive photos.

MANATEE BIRDS: They're just like you!


They eat Pizza!


They Photobomb!


They snack on Chips!


They love Guacamole!

My final thoughts: I took a shower last night so today my hair looks like this.


YES.

Friday, June 10, 2011

"My Mission Statement is to BE GAY." - Heather Pamplemousse, Pride 2010

Well, my neck feels better today. Which is appropriate cause tomorrow is going to involve a lot of joy, a lot of dancing, a lot of yelling, a lot of obtaining free stuff, and a lot of GAY. Oh yes. Tomorrow is Pride. And if there is anything in the world about which I have feelings, it is Pride.


I would like to tell you all of my history with the gays.

The first gay boy I ever knew was in High School. His name was Jason Friend, and he had glorious red hair. He was a junior when he came out, and I was a senior. I remember thinking how brave he was.

Fast forward to summer between freshman and sophomore year of college. My older brother Mark dies in a plane crash. Everything changed. And though this is pretty heavy for "Things Deb Loves" his death was the saddest and most enlightening experience of my life. When someone you love dies, your whole world shifts. And though I oftentimes still dream he is alive again and wake up crying, I do believe that part of the reason I can be the person I am today, youthful and chock full of some pretty crazy intense feelings, is because he died, and because I, and every member of my family, was left in the world without him.

Fast forward to summer between sophomore and junior year of college. I was a counselor at a Girl Scout camp. I was still completely broken over Mark's death. But it was this summer that I started to heal. What does this have to do with gays, you ask? Well, the majority of the women counselors were lesbians. So I started to associate lesbians with a feeling of acceptance, with the concept that human freedom is a possibility, and with healing. Why does Deb want a lesbian daughter? Because of that summer. Well that, and this... 

(Be prepared for a rant. If you don't want to hear it skip the following paragraph. I promise to put a cute picture and talk about my two moms at the end)

Pride, in my mind, is not just about being gay. It is about people allowing themselves to be what they are, even if it goes against the norm. It is about bravely saying, (a la Gaga) I was born this way. And if you don't like it, I don't give a fuck. I think everyone should adopt this 'tude. Not to say we shouldn't change and grow and become better people. But there are things we can't control. And life would be better, not only if we accepted those things, but if we CELEBRATED them. I am fat and emotional. I can't help these things. I've tried to be thin and stoic my whole life to no avail. So, on Saturday, in addition to celebrating some of my dearest friends who happen to be gay, I am celebrating the right of every human being in the world who does not fit into some unrealistic heteronormative cultural mold to be exactly what they are. Right then. Gay or straight or bi or trans or queer or fat or emotional or stoic or whatever.

Man, I have EXTRA feelings today. But this weekend, and every other, I am proud to feel deeply about the concept of humans being free and joyous

just like these dudes (speaking of things I love).


As promised. Cute picture. Two Moms.


 Sometimes, when I look at pictures of Dee and H they are just so cute I want to print off the picture and eat the paper it was printed on. I bet it would taste delicious. Like salted, dark chocolate and love. 

Win.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Beards

Clearly things have been a bit slower at my job as I have been blogging on a somewhat regular basis. This is nice. But today I have some of the worst neck pain I've ever had in my whole life. This is not so nice. Now I suppose there is the possibility that it might not be that bad (considering that I am not only terribly melodramatic but am also a pain wimp), but, no lie, guys, I think I might die. I think my neck is just going to give out and my head is going to flop to one side, lifeless, like Nearly Headless Nick (Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington) a la Harry Potter. NO EXAGERRATION I am pretty sure my whole body is going to implode with pain and I will be a human puddle on the floor like when that Senator guy turned to water in X-Men. Or was it X-Men 2? One of the not-lame ones.

But you know what cheers me up? Beards.


Nick Offerman is actually encouraging men of America to grow beards. BECAUSE HE LOVES ME. Well, that and he is trying to get people to save water. 

 

Zac Galafinakis is pretty much my boyfriend. I am convinced that if we met in real life we would fall in love instantaneously. His beard is SUPER TASTY. And he's chunky. Which is KIND OF my thing. 

But enough glorious celebrity beards.



This is friend Jon. We met in High School. Is he really sleeping in this photo? Who cares. LOOK AT THAT BEARD. And the sleeping puppy which I want to consume it's so adorable. But mostly the beard. When I see Jon's beard on the facebook I have hope for humanity because beards that glorious can exist in real life. In San Diego life sadly, but still, San Diego is Real. Kind of. Except for the perpetual sunshine. And all the attractive people. And the amazing beaches. And that delicious beard which I maintain should only exist in the stuff of fairy tales.


This is not even a photo of the beard in all its glory. I mean, it's GOOD. Not only is that beard great, but the man sporting it is KIND OF awesome. And the woman he is marrying but a week from Saturday is kind of the coolest, kindest human being to walk the earth.


Did you just die of awesome? It's okay. I do pretty much every time I look at the two of them, let alone what happens when I'm in the same room as them. It's similar to the X-men (2?) water thing mentioned above only,  you guessed it, more awesome.


Is he taking a crap is this picture? Who knows. My brother is a remarkably complex man. But he has a SUWEET beard. It's super curly. And also it's attached to Allie. Which makes it the coolest beard ever. Cause my brother is the coolest. If any of you out there think YOUR brother is the coolest... sorry. You are wrong. Like dead wrong. Like I'll punch you in your face wrong. My brother is to life what the T-Rex is to dinosaurs. DOMINATION, MY FRIENDS.

Okay, that's it. I am off to shop for a new pillow so my neck won't hurt so bad. Maybe, if I get a nice enough pillow I'll be happy like this


though it's doubtful. I think the only way I could really be that happy would be if I could wake up to this every day.


Seriously. Why are we not in love.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

The Bachelor(ette)

Don't judge me. All right you can, because I am judging myself. I started watching the Bachelor(ette) during this lady's season a year ago. Meet Ali.


I think this picture is absolutely hilarious. I feel like it sums up Ali's season perfectly. She kept yelling about how she gave up everything to be there: her job, her apartment. All to find love. Oh, Ali. You are so noble. Lucky for her she snatched up this tasty gem after washing away the mascara stained tears she shed over Rated-R Justin and Unemployed Frank.


Now Ali was annoying. And even though every time she cried (which was a lot) I threw up in my mouth a little, I was rooting for her. And she and Roberto seem to really like each other. And also, I could NEVER HAVE KNOWN the obnoxiousness which was on it's way in the form of this woman.


Now please keep in mind that in between Ali and Ashley's seasons was Brad Womack, who was Bacheloring on the show for a SECOND TIME because the FIRST TIME he picked NO ONE. Brad was dumber than a sack of rocks. Could anyone be stupider than him? Oh yes. Please reference the above picture.

But let's be real here. The reason I love this asinine show is that, like any self-respecting pseudo intellectual, I love to watch people make fools of themselves. Back when Jan and I had standard cable I would watch all those REALLY TERRIBLE Vh1 shows--Flavor of Love, Rock of Love, I love New York, I love New York 2, I love New York 3, Rock of Love Bus. I even watched The Pick-Up Artist but that was too much even for me. Mostly cause that show wasn't funny. It was just sad. So, so sad. When the guys got make-overs they were transformed from normal looking guys guys to giant douchebags. One time, the head douchebag gave one of the douchebags-in-training a boa to wear to the club. Cause that's what lady's love. Getting picked up by d-bags wearing feather boas. 

But The Bachelorette.

Ashley Hebert is 23 years old. She is a supreme idiot. She also weighs about 60 lbs. I am not hating on people who are 5' tall and weigh 60 lbs. I mean, she clearly works out a lot. She doesn't look unhealthy. She's a dancer. Though I maintain she isn't that great, and, let me tell you, I seem to be the only person who thinks this. But these are not the things that make her a supreme idiot.

So her friend texts her and says, "Bitch, please, Bentley is a douche." Before the show even starts. So then she meets Bentley and decides he's cute. Then, after 3 weeks in real person time, or 2 weeks in Bachelorette time (meaning she's probably spent a whole of 20 minutes with the dude) she decides she's in love with him. ALL THE WHILE, during his confessionals, he is talking about how he's not into her, how he wishes Emily had been the Bachelorette, how he thinks she has a great body and he'd let her tickle his balls but he isn't really into her and blah blah blah.

Are you still reading? 

Probably not.


So Bentley leaves the show under the rouse of missing his daughter when really he just doesn't want to be there anymore (OR SO HE SAYS). Cue the confession that Ashley loved him. That he was her guy. That she feels alone in the Rose Ceremonies without him. Cue Ashley crying. Over. And Over. And Over again. BECAUSE OF A DUDE SHE KNEW FOR 20 MINUTES.

Supreme. Idiot.

Good thing this man CONSISTENTLY SAVES THE SHOW WITH HIS HOTNESS.


If I were the Bachelorette I would ONLY NEED ONE ROSE. And I would give it to Chris Harrington. Chris Harringbone. Chris Cunningham.

As a side note, my boss is making train sounds in his office.

I. Love. My. Life.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

So Many Things to Love, Part 2

Well, it's June. And I live in Belmont (which is not too shabby) with Steph (who is pretty fancy and fab). But I realized I have been neglecting loving things since my move. Well, let's say this... one thing I DON'T love is moving. I hate it. HATE IT. HAAAAAAAAAATE IIIIIIIT.

But on to more positive things...

1. Riding my bike.

God, I love that bike. Even when I am riding up a hill and want to die there is a part of me that is still having fun. Riding a bike reminds me of being a kid (which as you all know is my life goal: to be as childish as possible while still paying my bills). I even looked online to see if I could get handlebar streamers for my bike. No lie. I didn't purchase them. But I thought about it. I also have a really great helmet. 


I look cool, right? Don't even answer. I know I do.

2. Saag Paneer

I could eat this everyday for the rest of time. And I mean everyday. One time I had it for at least one meal a day for 6 days. And I didn't get sick of it. Also, I love rice. Especially basmati rice. It's so nutty. I recently discovered that you can buy the TV Dinner version of Saag Paneer at Trader Joe's. You better believe I have at least 4 of them in my freezer at all times. This leads me to my next love.

3. Trader Joe's

It is here I must confess I f*cking hate Whole Foods. 


Because it is pretentious. Whole Foods is still a chain. Whole Foods is still big business. Now, of course, there are certain things I can only obtain from big businesses (i.e. my face lotion, my soy free meatless crumbles, and, apparently, taco shells), but I do so begrudgingly. I walked into Whole Foods to purchase the aforementioned list of goods just the other day. It was really crowded. And everyone was all clean. And I was super sweaty from riding my bike and had helmet hair. I enjoyed being in that big, clean place all gross. I might have bumped into people on purpose. I might have even considered peeing in one of the aisles just to see what the pseudo-crunchy, pretentious, Whole Foods shoppers would do. I didn't. I purchased my items, rubbed my sweaty armpit on some lame, hetero-normative douche-ster, and then went across the street to Trader Joes.


WHERE ALL IS BEAUTY. Trader Joe's are always smaller and hence more manageable. I am pretty sure TJ's is still big business. But they feel... I don't know... less antiseptic. Their produce isn't great, but their prices make up for it. My boxed Saag cost $3. The people who work at Trader Joe's are always nice. Normal people can shop there. I feel it is free of pretention. And their employees wear T-shirts with flowers on them. I like flowers. When I moved into my new house, Stephanie had left me flowers in my room. Isn't that nice? She is nice.

**Addendum - I know a lot of my friends shop at Whole Foods. Know that I am not talking about you when I talk about pseudo-crunchy pretentious Whole Foods shoppers. Know that when you shop at Whole Foods  you up the coolness of their clientele by a million. The. End.

**Second Addendum - I just realized there are some redeeming aspects to Whole Foods. They do sell some local fare, which I appreciate. And you can get grass-fed beef there. And they sell freshly baked sprouted grain bread which is SUPER DELICIOUS. So let me rephrase. I only sort of hate Whole Foods. And I think that is mostly cause it is so expensive, and I feel like good, clean food should be affordable for all people. EVERY PERSON should have access to it. It is ridiculous to me that good food in this country is only available to those of a certain socio-economic class. Ass. Okay. Done for reals now.

4. The Civil Wars


They. Are. Awesome.

And also I have those shoes.


If you are a little gay for Joy, don't worry. You aren't alone.