Wednesday, May 30, 2012

going swimmingly

So Big Govt is trying, in its usual ham-handed and overly expensive way, to make sure everyone can go for a dip in the pool. Good intentions, curb ramps, big stalls and all that, you know.

But what fascinates me most in these posts on SayUncle are the comments. Whole people trying to figure out why pool lifts might be necessary and then again why they aren't being used.

Aside from the fact that it's probably easier/quicker* to get in and out of the pool the same way that you've done it for the whole of your life prior to the introduction of these pool lifts, using that contraption creates a spectacle.

Gimps (yeah, I'm gonna use that word) get stared at and objectified enough in life and the idea of getting stared at extra? while you're wearing a bathing suit?

But, oh, if you need such a thing and it's there, the only way - well, sometimes it's worth it.
Sometimes you just want to get in the water. Weightless & floating, the same as everyone else.


*People adapt to the bodies they are given. Often the narrow mindedness of whole people limits gimps more than we do ourselves.

I'm sure a person with no legs being gracefully lifted in and out of a pool on a mechanical chair is an easier thing to watch, but you know what? We're not here to be pretty for you.

UPDATE: a fellow gimp weighs in

Monday, May 28, 2012

today, remember.

Be convinced that to be happy means to be free and that to be free means to be brave. Therefore do not take lightly the perils of war. -Thucydides

Sunday, May 27, 2012

movie review

Curse of the Golden Flower, 2006: a Chinese mash-up of Lion in Winter & King Lear presented as a completely over the top epic costume drama with Crouching Tiger-esque martial arts and some of the most gorgeous colors and images I've ever seen on film. Plus ninjas.

Verdict: 3.5 out 5

p.s. Mike wanted me to mention the excellent costuming, specifically the boob dresses. I'd like to mention the smoldering hotness of an evil, long haired Chow Yun Fat.

Friday, May 25, 2012


The Holstee Manifesto

My first instinct is to love words like these, take them into my heart and embrace them like the sweet little warm-n-fuzzies they are.

But then the saccharine hits the back of my throat and I'm repulsed. This is a trap. This is why people who buy organic food are self righteous jerks. This is look-at-me-I-am-better-than you. This is dogma for the nonbeliever.

"When you eat, appreciate every last bite"

"All emotions are beautiful"

"Open your mind, arms, and heart to new things"

 Seriously? who at all could ever live up to this?

 "Ask the next person you see what their passion is" indeed. (go on, ask.)

Once upon a time, I cancelled my subscription to Martha Stewart magazine because she never seemed to understand that once in a while the best Good Thing I could ever do in a day was to sit on my ass, drink a beer and celebrate the lack of cat puke on the rug. Living my dream guilt-free because I had been folding fitted sheets before it was cool.

But one thing here is true. Life is short. Very very.
Too short to listen to Dave, Mike & Fabian, whoever they are. Write your own manifesto.
(I'll be editing mine...& re-editing. Like I do.)

(from Brain Pickings, which got me thinking)

Thursday, May 24, 2012

getting away with glitter

Boker Credit Card knife - Essie Secret Stash -
Ulta Pinata Yada Yada

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

pot, kettle

So, Rob Pincus and James Yeager are standing in front of a giant digicamo vehicle, flexing their tattooed muscles, creating a video to stir up controversy, and calling other people attention whores?


A word to all you mall ninja operator wannabes. Douchebag does not equal alpha.
(But he can SHOOT!, you say? bitch, please.)

Saturday, May 19, 2012


Today I wore a sundress, had a hot dog for breakfast and pie for lunch, visited a secret garden in a hundred year old church, planted Annie Oakley okra, got sticky with the juice from a perfectly ripe melon, ate pulled pork with my fingers, got a sunburn, took a long walk, listened to a band in the gazebo, people watched and, now, I am tired and smell of woodsmoke.

Friday, May 18, 2012

on "air"

Live tonight at 9PM EST, a group of nerds with nothing better to do on a Friday night bloggers will talk about things, take calls from listeners, and interview the fabulously funny Ambulance Driver.

The SQRPT, it's a thing.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

& not one zombie

I dreamed an unusual apocalypse the other night. No explosions, no virulent disease.

Aliens had found our little blue planet in the vastness of space and, positioning themselves well outside the reach of our paltry technology, decided to begin siphoning off our oxygen. (I assumed there was some plan to simultaneously destroy vegetation) It was Earth they wanted, perhaps an obscure mineral, and forced hypoxia so easily removed obstacles.

But it wasn't happening all at once, no. There would be time enough to let yourself think that you had to make decisions about What to Do when, really, was a quiet disaster, with nothing to be done.

I was out on the street, watching the main intersection fill with cars going nowhere. The wrong way, even. North, to the lake. Dead end. I looked at my companion, the one person who had been with me from the very beginning. We didn't speak and yet decided together to go home. There were cats there, and supplies enough to keep us comfortable. We'd cling to each other when the time came, like those that breathed their last in the ash of Vesuvius millenia before.

Outside, people did what they always do when the world is ending. The usual panic, the stubborn hope - television reporters gave hourly updates of oxygen levels, mobs ransacked grocery stores and gas stations. Carrying on. I felt so proud of humanity, such bittersweet love.

I woke with my heart pounding anyway.

Monday, May 14, 2012

stickin' to my guns

Change in blog does not indicate a change of heart.

(the Mutt to my Jeff suggested a 2nd Annual Open Carry Day and I agreed.)

Friday, May 11, 2012

Thursday, May 10, 2012

So What Cha Want*

Sorry to disappoint anyone looking for the breda of bullets bacon & books but this ain't no gunblog, honey.

(tools will be incidental. eating and reading will remain negotiable.)

I'm not sure what this will become but I know for certain what it won't. So - rules is rules:

Version 2.1:
  • will not scour the internet for content. Not. Under any circumstances.
  • will not argue with idiots. Idiot status shall be determined using my own set of qualifications, which will remain a secret and may be subject to change.
  • will delete, with utter abandon and childlike glee, any trollish comments.
  • will graciously accept constructive criticism although probably not in the comment section - because this is not a forum and I'm lazy. 

I don't know what I'm doing, except this.


Tuesday, May 8, 2012


Since my disappearance there's been Facebook microblogging, a new podcast, grapefruit vanilla marmalade, an existential crisis or five, the gift of a beautiful rifle, a couple more knives, a lot more nail polish, tentative fumblings with paints and brushes, about 3 different hairstyles, a failed soufflé, the mystery of lost friends, the wonder of making new, a neverending supply of library surrealism and about as much of myself as I could possibly stand.

So I hadn't really gone anywhere, you know, but thank you all so much for welcoming me back anyway.

Friday, May 4, 2012

here, now.

The Breda true. Was.
And I held those truths to be self-evident.

Things I don't need to explain.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

be true

If you don't define yourself for yourself, then you will be crushed into other's fantasies of you and eaten alive. - Audre Lorde