BLOGGER TEMPLATES AND TWITTER BACKGROUNDS »

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

~ Lamenting Lotioning

BBGConfession:  I loathe lotioning.

Pretty much every time I have no choice but to lotion up I find myself thinking, 'it puts the lotion on its skin'.  ( -- James GumbOf course there is a choice.  It's called ashy

When I see advertisements put out by the big moisturizing complex the end user always looks ecstatic over the endeavor.  Meanwhile I just feel a bit bitter.  (Dear Epidermis,  I've already washed and shaved [most of] you.  What the fuck more do you want from me?!?) 

I've tried to make the task as palatable as I can create it.  I've
Sunday @ Nana & Papa's
purchased products that I think are funny.  ...Oh?  You're cocoa scent-y?  A brown girl smellin' like a chocolate bean? HA.  Sold.  Or sentimental.  (Chime-y flashback music)  When I was a Little Brown Girl (LBG) I lived one house away from my Nana and Papa.  I'm just realizing I'm probably the only person I know who grew up with two bedrooms spread over half a block.  I could be either place at any time.  But Sunday evenings I liked to take my bath at Nana and Papa's.  It was a whole thing y'all.  Looking back it was like being at a kid spa.  Nana would git me all squeaky and then like a miniature body builder getting tanned and/or oiled I'd get splashed with Nana's Jean Nate after bath splash, lotioned up with corresponding lotion and then reaching the the bath-y promised land, a coupla bops with the Jean Nate powder puff.  It was tres grown up.  Once pj'd up I'd retire to the tv room to watch the Wonderful World of Disney and Mutual of Omaha Wild Kingdom, whilst Nana clipped my toe nails.  ...So, yeah.  I thought when I randomly spied Jean Nate on the shelf for the first time since 1984 it was some sorta divine intervention leading me to the path of not being pissed off for havin' to do something I don't want to do.  PositiveReinforcement.com, ya know?  As for how that's workin' out?


Bonus BBGConfession:  Occasionally on a Sunday evening I'll find myself wondering if I lived close to Nana if she'd be willing to bring back our Sunday ritual?  Don't judge me.

I adhere to a fairly strict If It's Seen Routine, eliminating any unnecessary lotioning efforts.  (Dear Skin, Sorry to be a pest, but seriously?  Everything swimsuit covered?  It's doin' fine on a live and let live basis.  Why are your limb-y areas so fucking needy?)  Unless money and/or cotton candy falling from the sky as a reward for lotioning is something I can arrange I don't know what more I can do to make it a better experience for me. 

...And yet the other day I caught myself bein' momentarily mad at my vagina for being self lubricating while this skin had the nerve to make me do all the work.  Ugh.  Once I took the step to imagine how that'd work (if flip flopped) I decided that all-in-all the current arrangement was probably for the best. 

 

 


Share/Bookmark

Friday, March 13, 2015

~ The Power Of Booze, Magic & Racism

As is probably surmiseable from the title of this blog I am a chunky monkey girl.  A full-fledged, properly fat American.  It's obvious. 

(Halloween ghost of Blind Melon Past, Present & Ridiculous)
I say, 'obvious' because you have eyes and can see.  What advantage is it to me to try to perpetrate a lie about it?   A:  It's not.  That's why I don't.  I'm at peace with bein' a fat girl.  But what if I told you that despite what you are fully capable of seeing that you are wrong in your fat ass appraisal of me, Pop Quiz what would you think?

Maybe a lil':  'I'm not fat.  I know I look fat in that picture, I'm not really.'  Or some:  'Fat?  Nooooo.  ...Tipsy?  Randomly amused by 80's music video's with a stellar eye for detail and almost zero shame?  Yes, yes and yes.  B-b-but fat?  Nope.  Not one bit.'
 
(BBGNote:  I use fat as a declarative statement and not a pejorative one.)
 
I suspect most of you would think holy fuck, look at that complete break with reality she's having.  Clearly, what that photo shows is the truth about the matter.  There is no option B over whether that cool ass chick is fat or not.  (Ok.  Sure, there are other options; zaftig, voluptuous, plump, corpulent...)  You and I both know what we see is exactly what it is.  Period.  End of story. 

Unfortunately, this doesn't always translate into other scenarios.  

Fact:  The ability to discern from bullshit (that we tell ourselves, others, or have presented to us) is a craft that requires honing, ya know, as it is an integral part of not being a dumbass, I say one worth investing a few minutes on an obscure blog to sharpen.  And we're off...

By now you've probably seen the SAE version of a video diary of bus ride.  If you haven't, here.  Heavy sigh.  Serenity now.  It is obviously exactly what it appears to be.  There is no option B here either.  It looks racists because it is racists. 

And there is no excuse for that.  But in no way has that kept some pretty audacious assertions from bein' floated out there as excuses for what you've seen.  So far?  Booze and magic, mainly.  (Here is clip containing the actual statements, I'm paraphrasing.)  Both are poor defenses. 

A)  Booze.  Some people are mean ass drunks, some are love-y dove-y, some slutty.  There are Evil Knievel drunks, Alex Trebek/Cliff Clavin/Martha Stewart drunks, Casey Kasem drunks, and Sylvia Plath drunks.  I thought I knew my drunks.  I mean, I've been post-21 for some time now and have witnessed a good amount of in the cups behavior.  Hell, I've been the actual star of a few of those drunks. For legal reasons I can not be more specific.  But apparently now there are Jim Crow drunks.  (Save it, nitpickers of the interwebs.  I know Jim Crow isn't a real name.  Neither is Evil.  Suck it.) 

Why that's a shitastic defense?  Well, we all know booze can combine to concoct any number of drunk-y type behaviors, and we also know that booze has one universal constant and truth;  What ever comes out when it's mixed in?  That's what's in the person, that for whatever motivation is often without the benefit of booze held at some measure at bay.  It's not an aberration of character, it's an illumination of it.  Simply put, booze is truth juice.  So, pointing to something known to be second to sodium pentothal in it's The Truth Will Set You Free-ness as an excuse for why a bunch of racism fell out of your heart and mouth, hey, it's a free country, have the fuck at it, is, um, weird.

But honestly?  Not as weird as the other plot line aka: magic.  As near as I can piece together from comments along the lines of, 'ok, yeah, that's me on the video (being racist) but that's not an accurate representation of me', like if spoken three times into a mirror (Candyman shout out) regardless of the truth that we can see LOOK OVER THERE (misdirection)  Abracadabra!!  (Steve Miller shout out)  *waves wand with a grand flourish* makes it definitely, 100% for sure, unequivocally, absofuckinlootly, not in my character to engage in racists ass behavior.  Because these magic ass words say so.  The actual defense strategy seems to be;  Disregard the fact that you've already seen the truth.   
 
It puts me in mind of that Groucho quote...
 
...And guess what?  That's going to pass for perfectly acceptable for some folks.  (But not you, you well honed in bullshit detectin' magnificent bitches!)  I'm confident of that fact because there's a label on my hair dryer advising me not to use it in the shower. (Is there anything else ya need to know about how inept some folks are at understanding how the world works?...) 
 
Thanks to the people who are the reason a hair dryer has to explicitly say don't use in the shower, to a higher degree than I'm comfortable with, a certain percentage of people will accept the possibility that an option B (aka: the boozy magic loogie theory) alternative is a more reasonable conclusion than the obvious. 
 
My let's be super clear here point? 
 
 
I must admit, I kinda respect the amount of sheer balls it takes to attempt to explain away I would say the undeniable, but these cats) are actually denying it...  The struggle of Tooliteralism is real, yo. racist behavior with an offering of booze and magic.  I mean, that's amazing.   No less amazing than if I really would try to sell ya on the fact that that photo above is just 'big boned'.  ...I don't know if you know this or not, but I was drunk in that picture, which makes a person look fat.  And, also, that photo was taken while I was under a spell, and in a doll house of miniature-ness making me look fat. (POOF!!)  It's just not an accurate depiction of me.  Come the fuck on.  It's not smart on their part.  But then, I suppose smart is never a thing I associate with racists anyway. 
 
"When people show you who they are, believe them."       - Maya Angelou


 

 


Share/Bookmark

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

~ I'll Take Things That Aren't For $1,000 (Outdoor Pets)

I have no patience for things that aren't being passed off as things that are.   Drives me bonkers.  Apparently this bothers others less.  And by 'less' I mean, not fuckin' at all.  

Today's Things That Aren't?




Outdoor Pets.

I'm sorry.  What are outdoor pets?  I don't care how many times you said or heard this, it is, in fact, not an actual thing.

Country caveat:  If you live in the country this is a thing.  Hi, barn cat.

Again, in the city?  Not.  An.  Actual.  Thing.  (Yes.  Geography sometimes matters in ruling out thing/non-thingness.) 

Take the Are You In The City Quiz?
  • If you had to run to your neighbors house is it such a distance that you would have an MI (heart attack) before you arrived? 
  • Is your only source of delivery pizza DiGiorno's?  
  • If you buy ice cream at the grocery has it turned into a cookie dough cosumee by the time you've arrived home?
(If you answered YES to 1-3 of these questions you do not live in the city.  [Enjoy your outdoor pets.]  If you answered NO to 1-3 of these questions you do not live in the country. [Try not to be a dickwad neighbor.])

Obviously, a pet is a thing.  As is the outdoors.  Both certifiable things.  Check.  But there is no (I-live-in-the-city) outdoor pet.  Nope.  Pets are animals that have people in charge of them.  A pet has someone with opposable thumbs who tends to their needs who they rely on for food, housing, health and shit picking upping.  (In the case of talking birds, a human to teach them to say ironic, ridiculous and/or curse-y phrases.)  A pet lives in conjunction with their human(s) under some level of restraint.  (Yes, sometimes a pet lives outside of the house in its own house generally hemmed in by either a fence or chain or barn scenario.  [read: not free range])   Essentially a pet is a furry, wet nosed hostage.  This is mine:

Inside?  Check.  On a human bed?  Check.
Safe 'n warm?  Check.  ...Ladies & gentlemen we have a pet.

Things that live outdoors are not pets.  Don't be mad at me.  I don't make the rules, I'm just reporting them.  They are free range animals.  Newsflash:  Feeding doesn't make it a pet.  I can't feed a local coyote and then contend it's my pet.  Why? 'Cause that sounds, and would be fuckin' crazy.  ...Oh, that?  That's my pet deer.  I leave food out for it.  It comes around...    

How long would it take for someone to ask how exactly bat shit crazy you were once ya started talkin' 'bout your pet deer or opossum?  Not long, right?  2.6 seconds, maybe?  (Hello?  Yes, I need to know the procedure for getting someone signed up for a lil' 5150?  Oh?  She's babblin' some bullshit about the existence of outdoor pets, like, she says she has a pet crocodile so send someone immediately.)  ...But say cat and six people will trip over themselves to tell ya about a pack of feral cats they're sustaining, because, ya know;  outdoor pets. 

One of my neighbor's *outdoor pets* gawking at me from my hot tub.

BBGSideBar:  Ugh.  So now I'm gonna have to fight felines this summer to enjoy my deck.  Now you know that's some bullshit.  I'm allergic to cats.  I have to be careful in other peoples homes because they have cats.  That's cool.  We're in charge of what we're in charge of and I'm not in charge of how my body receives and deals with cat-y proximity.  Accepted.  Someone having a cat has never stopped me from hanging out with them.  But I sure as shit shouldn't have to be careful in my own damn (cat free) home.  I've been thinking of ways to deal with the situation.  As I believe that what we put out there reverberates.  Bad begets bad (good, good), call it karma if you will, and I'm not tryin' to invite any extra drama trauma across my path.  Or as I told another neighbor whilst discussing our mutual free range cat overrunning situation, "I did the math.  She (cat feeding neighbor, Kooky McBean [not actual name]) is lucky I'm a 3% better person than I want to be.  'Cause if I were the 3% worse person I wanna be?  There'd already be a bowl of anti-freeze out there.  Problem solved.  Evidently, 3% is where a good amount of--   ...You are not a dick.  ...Now you know you could kill a person if ya had to but there's no way you could kill an animal [like on purpose, not euthanasia].  ...You'd 100% be haunted by some freaky deak-y gaggle of cat ghosts all the rest of your days.  --I can't have that on my head stuff/I'm not that person, lives.  The extra 3% that is who I am (not what I want) is saving those kitty lives."  ...So, non-leathal solutions.  I've heard setting up mouse traps along where they travel?  And putting moth balls out along their trails (which apparently, is conveniently, everywhere [see below].)  Any ideas, my Big Brown Girl World-ers?  Seriously.  Help!

I say sustaining, but honestly I think it's, at least in these parts, kinda cruel.  Let's face it, in large part free range dogs get picked up by the authorities.  But cats?  It's not uncommon to see them pouncing about, well, really, anywhere.  It gets cold here.  (Not a complaint)  It's no surprise when the temp dips into the minuses.  For weeks.  Feeding feral cats doesn't save a cat.  It creates 8 new lil' kitties freezing in sub-zero temps, attempting to dodge the coyotes foraging for food of their own.  Ya know, warm fuzzy, four legged food.  (Meow)   That doesn't make any cat-y situation better, in fact it's worse eight-fold.  So, congratulations?

Last week the weatherman told me that we had been above freezing (32 degrees) for a grand total of two hours total over the past 2 wks.  Schools were closed several times over that period because it was deemed too cold for children (human, dressed in layers, waiting for a bus amount of time outside-- and these are 'Merican kids, so they were probably well insulated to begin with) to be out and about.   But tell me more about how it's humane to be cultivating extra cats to endure such conditions?

I always say when I run the world things are gonna be a lot different.  (#BBG2016)  For starters?  Things that (actually and straight up legit) aren't will no longer be given equal time, benefit of the doubt or agree to disagree designation.  For the same reason we wouldn't put stock into someone contending that cigarettes are healthy or that the earth is flat just because people say/believe it.  They will just be wrong.  There will be no back and forth-ing, (arguing/debating) only an immediate indication of dumbassery followed by subsequent pointing and mockery


                                                                       -  President Josiah Bartlett

Other Cat-y Posts:


Coming Soon-ish Sometime, Other Things That Aren't:
  • Accidental (child) shootings
  • Reverse racism



Share/Bookmark
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...