I've just had an apostrophe

I don't know why it took me this long to have this epiphany, but "behind the glass, a winter land/silent storms in the palm of your hand" totally refers to a snowglobe, right? I mean. Right?

Tugging her collar like it might be a noose

So. You know how people will say “aks” for “ask”? They’re not that wrong. That used to be the spelling and pronunciation of the word. Ugh, and there’s a linguistics term for when two letters get switched that I can’t remember, but that’s what happened to ask. It used to be aks; then the k and the s got switched, and now we say ask. What I don’t understand is why that hasn’t happened with the spelling of Wednesday. Does anyone actually say “Wed-nes-day”? No. Everyone switches the n and the d, so we get Wends-day. I know Wednesday comes from some Norse god—Woden, I believe—and that’s why it’s spelled that way. Methathesis! That’s the word, for when you flip consonant sounds. Now I can’t find confirmation of that ask—aks story, because apparently, ask comes from the Old English ascian, which I kind of remember learning, but why would Dr. Chaika lie to me? Maybe it got methathesized to aks in Middle English, then back to ask for Modern English. I do feel like the aks thing happened in some Middle English text we were reading rather than an Old English one. Okay, so I found it in Chaucer, so I didn’t make it up. So I think the moral of this story is that for as long as the word “ask,” has existed in English, it has been methathesized to aks. So stick an effin’ sock in it. Lemme aks you a question!

Why don’t we spell Wednesday the way we say it? Because it is too late to revise spellings? The dictionary has standardized the English language! Standardized spellings did not exist until, like, the 18th century! Madness! So did they say Wednesday in the 18th century? When did it get methathesized to Wendsday? These are things I need to know but don’t feel like looking up! I need a minion/research assistant. I’m sure there’s a grant for that.

In Futurama, a thousand years later, it has methathesized back to aks! It’s a frickin’ yo-yo! I’m in a glass case of emotion! I…don’t know. Er, next!

Here is the one full-on country song that I LOVE: “El Paso” by Marty Robbins. I love it so much that if I had any kind of musical talent, I would play it in coffee shops. And I would go back to El Paso just to play it there. And, uh, to see Carlos. But! It commits a sin worse than being a full-on country song. The song has a first person narrator, right, and at the end of the song, the narrator dies. I hate that shit! Then, who, exactly, is telling your story, Mr. Cowboy-Outlaw Man? I love that song, though. I really do. I feel I have done some serious growing during the past year or so since I have graduated college. Now I can love things in spite of the fact that they do things that irritate the holy hell out of me! Like “El Paso,” Brandi Carlile (in spite of her suspected illiteracy), and Kelly Clarkson’s song “Don’t Waste My Time.” I am all mature and shit now. Woo! I rule!

Let us rejoice, shall we? For I do not have to work tonight! But I have some major cleaning to do. Which might be even less fun.

Another work story

Yesterday night, Kaeli was being charming, so we were getting along rather than sniping at each other, and for some reason, she said, "Emily, I couldn't live without you."
So I said, "Why don't we just get gay-married, then?"
And Kaeli laughed rather delightedly and told me, "If I were [gay], you'd be my first choice." Sweet, right?
Then Sue went, "You'll have to fight me for her," and I was like, "Eep!" Sue is nice, but she weirds me out like that sometimes, because she is married with three kids and probably technically old enough to be my mother.

A badly told anecdote

So at work, we have these gift sets that come in what the store calls "hobo bags." I don't know why. When I came in tonight, Kaeli was carrying a bunch of them in her arms, and I was like, "What're those?"
And she just sang out, "Hobos! And speaking of hobos..."
"Speaking of hobos, here I am!" I said, and she grinned.
Then Sue called from the hallway, "Hey! I don't like that word. It's an alternative lifestyle."
And I was like, "Oh Christ, hobos, not homos, Sue." And anyway, it is not a fucking "alternative lifestyle"--that's even worse than "homos." But I didn't even think of that until later, because the fact that she thought I was referring to myself as a homo was hilarious. Dudes are homos, yo.

Some stupid thoughts I had at work

In one of the back from commercial stills, Tina is dressed like a lesbian! Tie and Taylors and all! Damn you, Tina Fey.

For some reason, I really liked how when Tina was like, “Yeah, Hillary’s a bitch, and so am I,” she pointed her pencil at Amy and said, “So is this one.” I dunno, for some reason, referring to someone as “this one” connotes great affection for me. I like it. I do it sometimes, when I think of it. In other news, how am I going to make it until Baby Mama is released in theaters?

So last night, we moved the entire fucking store around, and I spent most of that horribleness with the girl I have a stupid crush on. She doesn’t talk much, like me, but when I did say something, she would usually snicker. Or ignore me entirely, which was just so odd—I guess because I’m used to people at that place jumping on every word I utter, usually to make fun of me or pick a fight with me. Oh, wait, maybe that’s just Kaeli. Well, anyway, then I shattered another glass bottle of aromatherapy lotion, this one black currant vanilla, which is allegedly good for…setting the mood. I was, like, oh god, I smell like sex lotion now. While I stand close to the girl I have a useless crush on, because not only is she straight, she’s marrying some dude some time soon. And then she said something like, “This sensuality stuff isn’t doin’ anything for me,” and I was like, “Eep.” But I said, “Well, good. That might be a little distracting.” Or something. The whole aromatherapy area reeked of that shit, and the floor was slippery, and I cut my finger on the broken glass, and I STILL SMELL LIKE IT. I took a shower this morning! And! It didn’t even work. Black currant vanilla and jasmine vanilla are the aromatherapy scents that are supposed to make you feel all sexy and shit, and it had no affect on the girl I have a stupid crush on. It also had no affect on me. Maybe because we were all sweaty and cranky and disgusting, because that store gets so gross. Heh, also we had to put up new shelf-edgers that, like, tell what the products are, and my cabinet was “Sensuality,” so on the shelf with the massage oil (oh yes), the shelf read “Sensual Massage,” which I kept saying over and over in an Austin Powers voice, but only in my head for fear that no one would get it and then think I’m even more of a weirdo than I really am. Or than they already think I am.

Sigh. But the girl—she wears these glasses, and she laughs at me sometimes, and I can’t help myself. I mean, sometimes when Kaeli wears glasses she doesn’t repulse me as much as usual. Glasses have a powerful effect on me. (Kaeli’s not really repulsive—we just have one of those third grade relationships, where we say horrible things to each other because we like each other. As friends, god. I don’t have a crush on every straight girl I work with.)

I don’t care if Amber Lee was just her best friend, and she ran away and got married, and blah blah. Brandi was totally in love with her.

My legs are sore from all the squatting and kneeling I had to do to put away lotion. Fuckin’ fuck.

I am not a writer, but someone who knows how to use the English language to express herself. Mostly. The thing preventing me from being a writer is that I cannot do this on command, and I cannot do it so that I can have a reason for someone to read something I wrote. I write stories all the time, but they never have a point or an ending or even a somewhat not muddled theme. This is just stuff I do to amuse myself that wouldn’t captivate anyone else.

iTunes love!

M: Why are you sitting at my computer?
E: [points]

Tinatinatina!

Let's talk about SNL, baby. First of all, despite the fact that I've been counting down the days for this episode ever since I'd heard about it and the other fact that Jess called me at 7-ish to ask if I knew Tina Fey was hosting, reminding me that I'd totally forgot about SNL, you know, airing on Saturday (or the fact that yesterday was Saturday, whatever), I totally forgot to set the DVR to record it. So there I was, sitting on Mike's couch at, like, ten, somewhat drunk, and it all came to me. Tina Fey! DVR! I had forgotten! So, in a panic, I went upstairs and called my little brother and begged him to set up the DVR for me--and he did! I almost like him now!

Anyway, so let's really talk about SNL now. And how, as always, the only worthwhile bit was "Weekend Update." I got so excited to see Tina back at the Update desk--I'm such a giddy nerd. And she was perfect. So perfect I am going to tell myself she wrote her women's news thing herself. Even the presence of Mike Huckabee (WHAT THE FUCK) could not ruin the awesomeness of Tina back at "Update" (I, of course, prefer 30 Rock, but I loved her turn on "Weekend Update"--it's what made me fall in love with her. Well, that and the glasses.) Also, why couldn't Wilco have been the musical guest this week? Carrie Underwood? Really? REALLY? I hate that betch.

Um, so, yeah. I was disappointed in all of the sketches--especially in the fact that, even though she was the host, Tina was hardly in them. Sigh. I did like the "Lady Business" promo at the end, though, and her totally glamorous job of removing animals from beneath buildings with a special animal vacuum or a hook. Hot.

Anyway, it was worth the frantic call to my brother, and I guess it'll tide me over till 30 Rock starts airing again and Baby Mama comes out. Oh! The preview for Baby Mama probably made me laugh harder than any of the SNL sketches. "I'm sorry I yelled at you." "I'm sorry I farted in your purse." How am I supposed to wait till April 25??? How?

Make it better

You know what I love? Clean sheets on a warm bed and a small animal curled up asleep next to my legs. It's a little slice of paradise, right there. Until, of course, the small animal wakes up and starts practicing his hunting skills on my feet, but hey, that won't happen for another three hours, and he's so cute right there, and he's keeping my legs warm. Actually, Charles did wake me up at three am, but he didn't get violent, so I just pushed him off the bed and went back to sleep. I think he got back on the bed, but he just sat there and totally didn't attack me. Let's hope this is the beginning of a new nightly pattern. The waking up I can tolerate--it's the unexpected pain that makes me cranky.

So I bought Joshua Radin's Unclear Sky EP on iTunes, because he has a duet with Ingrid Michaelson on it, and yesterday was new music Tuesday (uh, even though this came out last Tuesday--whatever! Last week was busy), and god knows I haven't given Apple enough of my money yet, but now I really want to go to the Hotel Cafe tour. But it's in Boston on a random Tuesday, and Jess, the only person I'd be able to drag with me, probably won't be able to go. Or won't be enticed enough by any of these folk rockers to blow off whatever she might have goin' on. I know she likes Ingrid, but probably not enough. Oh, well, we have our A Fine Frenzy tickets--that'll have to be good enough. And then Mike and I are going to see Margaret Cho in April. All paltry substitutes for the only band I really want to see. Joshua Radin also sounds better when he's singing with a girl. Alone, I'm...not as impressed. Stop whispering or something. And who is this girl who isn't Ingrid Michaelson singing with him? I really want to see her live. Ingrid, that is, not mystery woman. Maybe I'll just go alone. No. I totally won't.

The other day, Liz decided to give me a list of girls she approved of me dating. She got distracted, but the first two were La, a bartender at the only gay club in New Hampshire, and the girl at Bath & Body Works I have a stupid crush on. I was like, "Thanks, Liz--one's straight and the other has a girlfriend." Very helpful. Liz also started this other thing by telling me that someone told her I had a crush on some other girl at Bath & Body Works, which is a lie, but I found it so amusing that I told everyone else this story, and I have been referring to this girl as my girlfriend ever since. Anyway, last night Kaeli told me that someone told the girlfriend I had a new girlfriend, and she got all butthurt. Kaeli actually said butthurt! That was my favorite thing Carlos and I used to say about our wet blanket friends when they acted all wet-blankety. Also, I was like, "So...who is my new girlfriend?" And Kaeli said Keri said something about how I came into the store "with some chick," and I was like, "Christ, that happened at least a month ago." Keri is still hung up on the time I went into the store with Allison because she needed some black raspberry vanilla something or blah, blah, whatever, and I wanted to go to the mall because I needed a coat or something. I mean, Allison is a babe, but I told Keri she wasn't my girlfriend, Jesus. Oh the tangled gay web of Bath & Body Works! Meanwhile, I remain the only lesbian employed at that location.

Do you know what I wish for, sometimes, late at night? That some lady artist would do a cover of The Turtles' "Happy Together." I totally love that song (oh, shut up), but I think I'd enjoy it even more if a girl would sing it. Okay, so apparently some betches have redone "Happy Together," but I've never heard of any of them, and the 30-second iTunes clips I listened to were all hideous. I'm really not sure who, specifically, I'd want to sing this song for me, but... I still want to hear it done well by a girl.

I am still drooling over the new iPod classic with its fancy new interface and 160GB hard drive. Now that I've been ripping DVDs onto my iMac, I have used all but 3GB of space on my iPod's 80GB hard drive. However, just as I resisted buying the iPod video until my other iPod died, I will have to resist buying the iPod classic until this iPod dies. Maybe by then, the iPod touch will have a decent hard drive, and I can get one of those. They're also pretty drool-worthy.

Once upon a time, Erin asked me if I had any KT Tunstall in my iTunes library, and I was like, "No. I actually kind of can't stand her." What does that even mean? How is it possible to "kind of" not stand someone? I suppose that was my way of softening it or something, but this is the bald-ass truth: I can't stand KT Tunstall. She's not as bad as Colbie Caillat, my own personal scourge, but she's still pretty bad.

So I got two ultra-fab voicemails from Mike yesterday. The first: "Hey, I was just calling to say hi, because I was doing the dishes this morning, and I found some old meat in the sink, and it made me think of you, so...give me a call back!" The second: "Hey, you rancid slut, what're you doing? Working? Come over after work and bring beer!" As tempting as the latter message was, I did not go over to his house at 10:45 last night with a case of Bud Light. I didn't even call him back. Take that! But we're supposed to hang out tonight, so I think we can include a case of beer in this evening's activities. I also talked to Sarah last night, and she was like, "Are you still working at Bath & Body Works? How the hell do you do that?" (Except she didn't say "hell," because she's a good Catholic girl.) Oh, it isn't easy, my friend, and I sure do need a week off. From both jobs. To do other important things, like sleep, open a savings account, get an oil change, put the process of getting a passport into motion, do laundry, play with Charles, read the Iliad, watch Netflix flicks and Brandi Carlile youtube videos, and sleep. Oh my god, that sounds amazing. Okay, after the next catalog cycle ends, I am taking a vacation! Wee!

Josh Ritter

I know you are waiting
and I know that it is not for me
But I'm here and I'm ready
and I've saved you the passenger seat

All monkeys are French

I don't remember how this came up, but I was talking to Allison about Buffy last night, and I realized that I must be the only lesbian in the entire world who preferred Oz to Tara. It makes me feel very alone. But Oz was at least better than Kennedy, right, lesbians? Right???

Okay, way back before Project Runway even started again, Ryan predicted I'd have a crush on Jillian, and I was like, "Hah, yeah right." But then Kit Pistol got eliminated, and I started to find Jillian's baffling lack of emotion endearing. I always liked her clothes, too, even when I wasn't really thinking about developing a crush on her. Now I totally do. Have a crush on her. She's so weird! I love her a little bit. I do, so I want her to win. Christian is certainly very talented, and he absolutely knows how to design for the runway, but I just like Jillian better. There. I caved, finally.

Stupid reunion show. I would like to see who wins, bitches.

Last night, I kicked Charles out before I went to bed, but he still woke me up at 3 am, scratching at the door and whining. Take a pill, Charles! Leave me alone for seven hours. Christ.

So I was reading good ol' Hans last night, and there was this story about a Snow Queen, and one part of it, where this little boy runs accidentally runs away with the Snow Queen in her big, beautiful sleigh was a lot like Edmund's first encounter with the White Witch. In fact, the little boy in this story, Kay, had a best friend named Gerda, and when Kay and Gerda grew older, Kay turned into a brat and started being all practical and mean to Gerda, just like Edmund was to Lucy, but Gerda never gave up on him, and she went off to save him from the Snow Queen--and she did it all with the help of some animals, too. I think I should look a little deeper into this C.S. Lewis--H.C. Andersen connection. Uh, later. I am so not in research mode right now. I think I'll just covertly watch Futurama until lunch.

Hah! "Heaven Is a Place on Earth" just came on the radio. Sing it, BC.

Should he stay or should he go?

Charles Wallace:
Mesmerized by Tina Fey but disgusted by Brandi Carlile. I don't know what to do with him.

I started losing sleep

Today, I was doing some early-morning proofreading of something that had not been written by our copywriters, and I came across this gem: "occupy's." I actually underlined it and wrote "really?" but then I also corrected the spelling, just to be helpful. "Occupy's"! What the fuck? That is not a typo--that is pure idiocy.

In New Hampshire, we have two license plates to choose from: one with the deceased Old Man in the Mountain and one with a moose and a mountain pond scene. The moose is on the left side of the license plate, and then your letters and numbers go next to it. So, on the way to work yesterday, I saw a car with a moose license plate that said "& SQURRL"--brilliant. I laughed for a good minute, and I tried to take a picture with my phone, but the car had gotten too far ahead of me.

Speaking of things I saw on the back of cars, today I encountered a giant navy blue truck with a bumper sticker that read, "NRA: the front line of freedom" or something, and I just wanted to rear-end him. I get that way whenever I see pro-life bumper stickers, too. Oh, yeah, the NRA is all about protecting freedom. What the fuck ever.

So I watched the latest episode of The L-Word, and I want to say like, "Finally! A girl who isn't throwing herself at Shane," but they're totally going to end up fucking next week. Shane was cuter this week than she's ever been, but I still don't get it. Also, "Don't ask; don't tell" has got to be one of the most insulting official policies of the United States government in its history. It is beyond time to get that shit repealed. God dammit. You know I hate the idea of a standing military, but whatever, if you feel that that is the way to serve your country, you should be able to join up no matter what. "As if you could win a war without lesbians."

The evolution of an imaginary girlfriend

Okay, so since August 2007, Brandi Carlile, Tina Fey, and Kelly Clarkson have been my top three imaginary girlfriends, and in the beginnings the standings were these:
Kelly
Brandi
Tina

Then they became:
Brandi
Kelly
Tina

And then:
Brandi
Tina
Kelly

And now!
Tina
Brandi
Kelly

Brandi's the only one who's never been at the bottom, so I can't imagine it'll be too long before she unseats Tina. But right now, well...Tina is my main lady. And that's all I have to say about that.

For now.

Everyone has an opinion!

A: oh my god have you slipped into an alternate universe?
E: an alternate universe? what even are you talking about?
A: haha, I'm talking about Tina Fey usurping the thrown [sic]

Tina Fey can probably spell "throne," too. Boo-yah.

Reorganization

I just had this fight with myself: "Tina Fey is the love of my life. No, she's not. Wait. Tina Fey can spell."

Tina Fey wins!

Well, you know

Okay, I have a confession to make. Despite the fact that The Little Mermaid has been my favorite Disney movie for almost twenty years, and despite the fact that I am very obnoxious about reading the source material movies are based on (if they have one), I didn't read the original story by Hans Christian Andersen until...yesterday. I really have no idea how this horrendous oversight occurred, but at least I finally rectified it. When I was doing research for my thesis on how Disney portrays gender, specifically in The Little Mermaid, I became familiar with the differences between the film and the fairy tale, but there was one article I read that said that all of Andersen's descriptive powers go to creating the undersea world, causing readers to wonder why the little mermaid would ever want to leave, which is such a lie. His descriptions of the world humans inhabit are just as beautiful as the undersea world, so whatever. The other thing I want to bring up is that I guess it's pretty accepted that ol' Hans was a closeted homo, and "The Little Mermaid" rather reflects that, and I think it is true. The little mermaid endures all kinds of pain to be accepted, but she remains an outsider. The prince falls in love with her, but he will not marry her, and that whole thing just sounded so much like two boys growing close, one longing to tell the other how he feels but unable to use his voice. Poor Hans.

As for the differences from the Disney film, well... The one that bugged the crap out of me was that in Andersen's story, it was merpeople tradition for the merchildren to visit the surface once they turned fifteen, but in the film, it is expressly forbidden--and Ariel is the only one who wants to go up there anyway. Also, the sea king is barely in the story at all, but he is a very imposing force in the film--that would have been a useful thing to know when I was writing my paper. Oh well. In the story, the sea witch and the little mermaid don't really make a bargain--I mean, she still has to give up her voice (really, her tongue, which, ewwwww), but the sea witch doesn't really seem to get anything out of this exchange, since the tongue is used to create the potion that will turn her human (interestingly, Ursula throws a disembodied tongue into her potion during "Poor Unfortunate Souls"--where did it come from?). Ursula wants Ariel in her power to use her as a bargaining tool for regaining the kingdom from Triton, but the sea witch apparently just wants to cause the little mermaid pain? I don't...know. And here's a thing I kind of discussed in my paper: Ursula is a female character who is ambitious, who wants power, and so she must be destroyed. The sea witch is just a witch--she has no designs on the kingdom; she's just a tool for the little mermaid to use--so nothing happens to her. That's a theme in Disney films: powerful women must be destroyed--Maleficent in Sleeping Beauty, the step-mother, to an extent, in Cinderella, Ursula in The Little Mermaid--hell, even Cruella DeVil in 101 Dalmatians. I forget what my conclusion was about that, but I was clearly unhappy about it.

Anyway, so "The Little Mermaid" ends with the prince marrying the wrong girl, and the way the sea witch's spell worked, the little mermaid had to either marry the prince or turn into sea foam as soon as the sun rose after the prince married another. Her sisters, to spare her this fate, go to sea witch, and she tells them that if the little mermaid will kill the prince with this knife, his blood will turn her back into a mermaid, so she can at least spend 300 years with her family before turning into sea foam. But then she cannot go through with it, and as the sun rises, she throws the knife into the sea, expecting to dissolve into nothing, but! That does not happen. Instead, she joins the spirits of the air, who spend 300 years on earth, trying to do good deeds, like sending cool breezes to the deserts or something, until they earn an immortal soul and are permitted into the kingdom of god. So hooray for that. But then it ends, like, super weirdly, with the spirits of the air telling the little mermaid that every time they blow through a house with a child in it that loves its parents, god takes a year off their 300-year sentence, but every time they blow through a house with a bratty kid, a day is added to the time they must serve. Like, what is with the admonishment for the children at the end? "Do you want the little mermaid to get to heaven? Then behave yourself!" What?

One last thing: the little mermaid ends up as a spirit of the air, as I have said, and that, my friends, is what Ariel in The Tempest is. An oblique Shakespeare reference in a Disney film! Love it. Oh, or maybe "ariel" became a generic folkloric name for a spirit of the air. Whatever! It's a Shakespeare reference if I want it to be. I also found this bizarro lesbian retelling of "The Little Mermaid," and it had more similarities to the Andersen story than the Disney film, obviously, but the mermaid's name was Ariel and the name of her "prince" was Erica, which is straight outta Disney. But the thing that made me squeal with glee was that Ariel's best friend in this weirdo story is named Caliba, which, hello, has to be the author's feminized form of Caliban. Though, uh, Ariel and Caliban were hardly friends in The Tempest. I don't care! Shakespeare references everywhere!

All right, now that I've probably alienated my three readers, let's talk about something I know we all enjoy: Tina Fey. She is set to host Saturday Night Live on the twenty-third, which will be the first time I will watch SNL since she left, because the show totally sucks without her. In my head anyway--I don't exactly know that for a fact. I do know that "Weekend Update" sucks without her, because I watched one with Seth and Amy, and it was just painful. Poor Amy--she's funnier than that. Anyway, having Tina host will be totally awesome, because I used to watch SNL, hoping she'd be in a sketch and not just "Weekend Update," and usually she was just in "Weekend Update," but as the host, she'll be in, like, every sketch! Hooray! Although, if she's not in charge of writing them, how funny will they be? Well, we shall see, shan't we? It is Tina Fey, after all. Whatever she does is awesome. I wonder how weird it will be for her, just being there to act, since I know she thinks of herself as a writer more than an actor. Even though she stars in her own show.

I watched Across the Universe with Charles last night, and only one of us fell asleep! And it totally wasn't me. That should be how I judge movies: if I can't fall asleep during my first view of it, then it gets an A. Anyway, I did like it, but when did Evan Rachel Wood start sounding exactly like Kirsten Dunst? That was unsettling. Also! Dear Prudence was totally a lez! Her intro, singing "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" longingly to some blonde cheerleader, confused me, but then she was totally in love with Sexy Sadie and ended up with Lovely Rita, the contortionist--much better than meter maid, I'd say. Heh. I think my favorite part was "Hey Jude" at the end, because I've been singing "Hey Jude" since the film ended. Oh, and "I've Just Seen a Face" in the bowling alley, because it got all crazy, with the dancing and the bowling and the lights. Wee!

So I got distracted around the time Bono's Dr. Robert showed up to sing "I Am the Walrus," and then I saw him on a psychadelic bus, and I was like, "Is he...supposed to be Ken Kesey?" And then he said something about being a navigator, which was what Kesey was called among the Merry Pranksters--The Navigator--and then he said, "You're either on the bus or off the bus," and I was like, "Okay. Definitely Kesey." And then he disappeared. That was weird. And the whole Eddie Izzard Mr. Kite thing was rather disappointing--too bizarre for me. I was all, "When did they drink the kool-aid?" I totally missed the whole acid test portion of the film, but whatever. I don't like the acid trip stuff anyway. And I figured Jojo was supposed to be Hendrix-like, but who was Sadie? I would guess Janis, but I don't know.

Anyway, it was good. I don't usually take a shine to redoing Beatles songs, but I think this worked. I almost bought the soundtrack last night, but I need to chill on the crazy iTunes purchases.

I definitely write the worst film reviews ever. God only knows how I got an A in that film class I took. Oh, right, there were books involved.

I know I will hear what I've heard before

Good evening, internet. Let's talk about the runway, shall we?

First of all, I was so tired of Sweet P's whining. It is even worse than Jillian's whining, because at least Jillian is cute, and she makes very interesting clothes. But Sweet P made that one nice denim dress and spent the rest of the season fuh-reaking out about every single challenge. She was in an all-girl motorcycle gang! She is covered in tattoos! How can she not be the least badass? I don't hate her or anything--she does seem, you know, sweet--but I was so sick of her. That dress was hids, and the only peacock-y features of the whole mess were the feathers in Lee's hair. Lame!

Okay, I actually watched this episode twice, because I didn't change the channel when it ended the first time, and I'm still having a hard time remembering what happened. Oh! They went to the Met, and it was empty! Do you know how awesome that would be? I've been to the Met, like, five times, and it is always swarming with people, and I'm pretty sure I've only seen about two percent of that museum. Sad. I could probably stay there all day and think about pretending to be Claudia from The Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler.

All right, anyway, I have to give Christian some begrudging props, because the boy knows how to make shit. None of it is to my taste, and I still want to step on him sometimes, but he really is talented. I kind of just hope he doesn't win. He'd be even more full of himself, can you imagine? And, seriously, I didn't think anyone could use the word fierce more frequently than Tyra Banks, but this fool sure proved me wrong. Oh, I did like when Tim Gunn asked him how his creation was coming along, and he said something like, "The blouse looks really good on me," and Tim laughed and said, "That's all that really matters." It was cute.

Oh! Chris is dead to me! Did you see how he just waved aside everything Tim Gunn said about his dress? He almost didn't make it to Fashion Week! He still hasn't, but he gets one more shot. Which, what? Well, they all showed collections at Fashion Week, so I suppose he and Rami are really just competing to stay in the competition--which, does that matter as much as showing a collection? I have no idea.

Rami made a pretty dress, but everyone knew exactly what he was going to do. And he got all defensive about it. Blech.

Jillian is now my Runway girlfriend, mostly by default, but also because I finally saw that crazy kick she delivered to her dress form in last week's episode. And she made a supercool jacket again, and the way her gold dress evoked, like, Greek battle dress thrilled the nerd inside. (I know that was, like, the challenge, but it just worked so well!) Also, I just looked at all of the contestants' final collections, and hers is definitely my favorite. Do you think if she somehow managed to win she'd, like, react? I hope we get to find out!

Although, as a collection, I'm not sure how cohesive it is. I'm sure Nina Garcia will have an opinion--I hope anyway, mostly because I love to hear her say "cohesive." Chris's, I think, was much more interesting than Rami's, so even though he is dead to me! I hope we get to see his stuff on the runway. Christian's certainly was dramatic, but there were too many ruffles going on for me. Plus, like his ego needs the extra boost.

I have little love for Victorya, but did anyone else think it was super rude the way Heidi said, "I think Victorya's always a little uptight," and Tim agreed? That seemed like kind of an unfair attack. I mean, Victorya was rather uptight, but why you gotta say it like that? The reunion shows are always awkward for me, but I usually half-watch, just to see the weird stuff that happened that they couldn't fit into the regular episodes. All that "what did you guys really think of each other?" crap is just pointless.

Oh, and the clip of Tim telling Kevin: "If being on Project Runway didn't make you gay, nothing will!" kind of irked me. Like Kevin was the only straight guy ever on Project Runway? What was his problem? The hetero doth protest too much, methinks. (Good lord, what kind of construction even is "methinks"? I'll have to take that up with Will later.)

Lordy-loo! I just remembered I watched Cashmere Mafia last night too, and by "watched," I mean "fast forwarded until Caitlin showed up," and what a way to end the maybe lesbian storyline. So stupid! And could this show be any more predictable? Of course Caitlin has to get dumped as soon as she decides she can be serious about someone. I don't know what happened to Alicia, but, like really, she didn't even seem to react to the fact that she was watching Caitlin's heart break right before her eyes. She was just like, "Oops. My bad. My ex wants to get back together! Sorry." Booooo. This show is stupid. Caitlin should just have her own show--or she should be transplanted to a better show. I don't know. Even if she goes back to guys, I'll still like her.

And now a series of twitter updates, posted here instead:
I want some new music. God, iTunes has played, like, six Brandi songs in an hour and a half. Clearly, it has a problem. I think I got it hooked. Now I'm gonna have to check it in to Betty Ford.

God, I've only been here for an hour and a half. It's gonna be a long day, everybody! I knew I should have called out.

I do stupid things sometimes, like purchase Fergie songs on iTunes. What? I can't resist a girl who will spell in the middle of a song.

"Hell in a Bucket" makes me think of when the Merry Pranksters were hanging out with the Hell's Angels.

I loathe portmanteau words. Usually. I can't think of any that are useful right now, but the new ones that have been popping up, so people can say them and think they're so clever make me crazy. Guess which one I hate the most. Go on. Guess. I'll give you a hint: )

Oh! Spork is a good one. Yay for spork.

A very important question!

Should I buy this?

She don't got a lot to say

So I finished Special Topics in Calamity Physics last night and was left feeling rather cold. Once the climax happened, the whole thing seemed to unravel, and I just did not like the ending at all. I don't know. This book was odd. I meant to do a more detailed review of it, but I left the book at home. So all I can really say is that the story was puzzling. Maybe I just haven't really decided what to make of it yet. Some review on the back of the book said this novel puts Marisha Pessl in the same category with young writers like Dave Eggers and Jonathan Safran Foer, and I've not read Foer, but the way Dave Eggers writes just makes me so happy, that someone can use language the way he does. I don't know--that's a queer thing to say--but I can't think of another way to articulate it. I know A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius is, like, in the dirty backpack of every self-serious college student, but it's just really well-written--heartfelt and funny and intelligent. His novel, You Shall Know Our Velocity!, is brilliant, too. Pessl really doesn't compare to him. Her writing style is fine, and you know I love all the literary references in the novel, but... There were only one or two passages that really made me happy I was reading something.

Okay, because I am crazy, I found this on somebody's blog this morning: "i totally have a safe and normal 'girl crush' on Brandi Carlile." What the eff does that mean? As opposed to a dangerous and crazy girl crush that causes you to stalk her across the country and give her elaborate gifts even though you've only met her twice for the briefest of moments? I don't think so. I get the feeling that "safe and normal" is opposed to "totally fucking gay," which is the only kind of girl crush to have on Brandi Carlile, by the way. You can't have a non-gay crush on this girl. That would be like having a non-gay crush on Amy Ray or k.d. lang or Ellen. Seriously, if anyone can turn girls gay, it's Brandi Carlile. Hide your daughters, ignorant people.

So, okay, having a crush on Brandi doesn't make you totally gay--if you like guys and everything, that's fine, but really, if you do have a crush on her, you're a little bit gay. And there's nothing abnormal about that!

I am so sick of homophobia. I've only been really dealing with it for, like, six years, but still. That's more than enough. I can't even imagine all the gay people who have to deal with it constantly--and, you know, for much longer than six years. I'm lucky to live where I do, in a state that recognizes that gays are the same as everyone else. What if I lived in Tennessee or some place horrible? I might still be in denial. Ugh, what a terrible thought.

I like Barack Obama and all, but I still really want Hillary to be the next president, and now she's kind of losing. But who the hells knows what's really going to happen at the convention? At least Huckabee's totally out of it.

Stupid Netflix. I sent both of my movies back, and they haven't even gotten them yet. I want some new movies, dammit.

This entry is boring me. Time to post it!

Distracted

So apparently this time it's true: the writers' strike is almost officially over. (And can I just tell you how much it has been killing me to see it written everywhere across the internets as "writer's strike"? Like there's been one lone writer on strike, standing in front of the Warner Brothers lot with his sad, little picket sign, tirelessly (or maybe exhaustedly) marching back and forth for three months.) Anyway, so hooray if the writers' strike is over for reals, because I have missed 30 Rock like I would miss a limb, and I also want to see what's goin' down on Gossip Girl now that Blair's power has been snatched away. But mostly 30 Rock. But! I am also concerned about the deal the writers have fought so hard to get. Is it a good one? I fuckin' hope so, but the draft of the deal that Variety posted doesn't make any sense to me. I can't read legalese. But I would seriously go the rest of tv season without 30 Rock if it meant that the writers could get a truly fair deal, because these huge corporations are making vast sums of money off writers' work, and the writers are not being adequately compensated for it. Corporations taking advantage of real, live human beings is way worse than not having Tina Fey on my tv every week. And if I am willing to give up Tina Fey, you know I'm serious.

So I hope all the writers are satisfied with this deal. I hope Disney and its ilk finally do right by these people--by all the people they employ.

This is why I hate capitalism. Profit margins are more important than the health and well-being of a company's employees. Makes me sick.

I am a dirty communist. Not really. But I do have some socialist tendencies.

And now, a series of text messages:
Tue, Feb. 12, 2:12 am EST
S: You awake?
S: Oh ma god woman, plz be awake!
2:34 am EST
S: Well i was going to call and tell u what could be my best story ever...But it's the first time u are asleep at a normal time!
[Okay, it is true that I fell asleep early last night, but it is also true that I am usually asleep by 2 am on a weeknight.]
8:42 am EST
E: Aw dammit! Best story ever? Clearly I must hear it, but i have to work all day. Boo.
S: Well, I can't wait to tell you! I'm still in shock. :P
E: Dammit. My work schedule ruins everything.
S: Ah, don't worry 'bout it. I'm not going to forget any of it. :P Oh, I know the lyrics to "looking out" now too.
E: Great, now I'm doing to be imagining all the ways you could have obtained the lyrics all day, and I won't get any work done.
S: She just sang 'em to me, that's all... :P
E: I hate you.
S: I know. :P And u should
E: Jerk.
S: I'll just say that the gift [a bottle of Maker's Mark, because Brandi is a drunk] was a success and waiting outside for two hours after the show was worth it!
E: Hah! Lucky girls. Now stop telling me things or i really won't get any work done.
S: Yes'm, I'll confide the rest later tonight. Carry on.
E: Thanks. Hopefully my brain won't have exploded by then.
11:33 am EST
S: To top it off we just ran into the band in the lobby :P
E: What did i tell you? Stop telling me things!
S: Too good not to share! I'll b back home around ten w/ the rest!
E: All right. I'll try to be awake this time.
S: You be better be... :P But seriously, I wish that I could have called you last night when I was SO excited... It was rather late, and I was surprisingly sober! It would have been a good time! I so wish you could have been here, the whole thing was slightly surreal and amazing.
E: I would totally have gone too if not for the horrible timing. Damn this job. I wish I had been awake last night.
S: It's alright, I'll totally make a trip to New England next time they tour up there. Scout's honor!
E: Aw yay
3:38 pm EST
E: God, work sucks. I should have just quit and gone to birmingham.
S: Ah, I agree. But, the drive home sucks majorly! We are driving through mississippi and there was totally a tornado or something that left fallen trees and shit on the road. Slow traffic! Fucking weather!
E: Ew. I think I'd rather be at work than in that mess.
S: Exactly! It's over now and we are almost in that hell hole of a state that is Louisiana [ed. note: I, myself, have nothing against Louisiana, as I have never been there]. That means I'm going to have to start driving soon. Damn, damn, damn.
E: Aw. Sucks to be you! Except not really, considering the earlier half of your trip.
S: Ha! U don't even know the half of it!
E: Oh shut up.

Some people have all the effin' luck.

Another uneventful day

Okay, it's Monday, several things: concerts, Grammys, movies. Let's see if I remember enough stuff to pull together a decent blog entry. Ready? Here we go.

On Saturday, I almost bought Missy Higgins tickets, because Mike loves her, apparently (that makes four lesbians he loves--and I only had to force one of them on him!), but I've been spending way too much money lately, and I was still kinda meh about her, and he was meh about the concert, so I was, like, whatever. I'll just drag him to whatever faraway Brandi show that comes up next. Then I discovered A Fine Frenzy was going to be at the Paradise, and Jess is, like, in love with Alison, and she is great fun to see live, and I may have mentioned that I am desperate for a live show, so I told her, and she was all, "OMG! Let's go!" So I was going to buy tickets today, but Live Nation's site is down, so... Hopefully, I'll remember to buy them tomorrow.

I, like, barely watched the Grammys last night, because I totally don't give a crap about the music the industry feels the need to recognize these days, but I did see Cher introducing... Beyonce and Tina Turner? (Tina Turner is still fuckin' awesome. Take some lessons, Beyonce.) Anyway, Cher said something like, "I've been singing since Abraham Lincoln was president," which I found hilarious for some reason, but, like there was no audience reaction. Come on! I love it when celebrities make fun of themselves! Cher isn't even that old--she's, like, sixty. I never liked her music, but she is funny, so I can get on board with that. Also, whose brilliant idea was it to pair Cyndi Lauper up with Hannah Montana? Fie on ye. Cyndi Lauper is way too cool for this decade's flash-in-the-pan tween pop sensation.

As I am still desperate for decent lesbian entertainment, I watched Puccini for Beginners, like, last Thursday. It was okay. Elizabeth Reaser is cute; Gretchen Mol is cute, and Julianne Nicholson is cute, so it was worth it. I just did not like the lesbian dating a man thing. Too...ew. And the man! I spent the entire moving going, "Where have I seen him before?" but I couldn't be assed to look it up. Also, the voices Elizabeth Reaser's character kept hearing and her own narrating voice over were kind of making me mental. But the ending was happy--and not in an ambiguous, like, oh this will probably turn out all right way, which is usually the only kind of happy ending lesbian movies get--so yay for that!

Um, so I still don't know where I've seen the guy before, because the only thing he's been in that I saw was Jack and Jill, which I barely remember. Oh well.

XXX Vitamin Water tastes like Kool-Aid. Also, what's up with the porn name?

Blogging for slackers

So I didn't update on Friday, and it hurt Allison's soul, so I decided I'd update today, but only with a conversation we just had over instant messages, mostly because I found it amusing and would like to record it for posterity. And I don't have anything interesting to say.

A: i like mandy moore's cover of umbrella
A: i don't know if i ever mentioned it to you
E: mandy moore does a cover of umbrella?
A: um, yeah, and it's so amazing
A: it's slower and pretty
E: whatever blows your skirt up
A: oh it does
A: youtube it
A: pleeeeeeeeease?
A: it's pretty
E: but i haaaaaate that song
A: PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE????
E: oh lord
E: fine
A: yay!

E: mandy moore is pretty
A: um, yeeeeeeeeeah
E: I still don't like this song
A: oh, whatevs
A: it's pretty when she does it
E: whatevs yourself!
E: you like before he cheats!
A: so does your mom!

A: are you watching this cirque du soleil thing?
A: it's like a beatles tribute
A: it's the kid from across the universe singing let it be!!!!!!!!!!
E: I am not impressed!
A: why?
E: I don't know
E: I am difficult to impress
E: especially in the area of beatles covers
A: unless you're hot and cute and your name rhymes with shmandi
E: oh
E: ha
E: ha

Meh

I wrote two aborted blog entries today. They sucked. This week sucked. I will come back next week less cranky. I hope.

Icicles are falling down

This weather is a mess! Rain, sleet, snow, flooding! Slush everywhere! Fuuuuuuck. February and March are the worst months of the year.

Mike said that if he'd had another beer in Burlington, "That Year" would have made him cry. This was not included in my original wrap-up of the show because he didn't tell me that until, like, a month later. I am telling you this now, three months after that, because iTunes played "That Year" from Burlington just now. That song is heartbreaking.

Now for something less depressing: Ricky got his walking papers last night, finally. God. That stupid orange bathing suit would have been shredded in a wrestling ring--even a fake wrestling ring--don't you think? Chris's most definitely was the cutest, but I have a thing for clothes with hoods. And when girls with pretty long hair wear their hoods up. Even though the wrestler lady was kind of scary, she looked less scary with the hood up. Not nearly as pretty as this lady:
Rami's was hideous, Sweet P's boring; Jillian's looked like it was made out of duct tape, and Christian has totally designed that little bolero thing before, hasn't he? I feel like I've seen that before. However. I loved how he fell so in love with his wrestling costume and was all, "This is my favorite design ever, which is...kinda scary." I don't know--that was just funny. Of course the word fierce was quite the star of this challenge, but seriously? Those bitches are fierce. In the snarling tiger kind of way. And Chris and Christian were the only ones who really went all out with it. Jillian's was acceptable, but she was, yet again, not done on time. For someone who seems so goddamn unflappable, she sure gets frantic about construction.

That's the other thing! When she was watching the WWE DVD, she was, like, flipping out! Getting all into the stagey girlfighting! (So gay!) It was so weird. Maybe Jillian needs to bodyslam somebody (I nominate Rami), and then she'll feel better. And even though it wasn't really all that funny, I laughed out loud when Jillian said of her wrestler, "She might bodyslam me if I design the wrong thing." I guess I just grabbed at any attempt of hers to show a sense of humor. Also, that interview she gave at the beginning of the show, about how it would suck to get this far but not make it to Bryant Park--she seemed severely doped up, like she could barely keep her eyes open. However. I will take Jillian's bizarro stoicism over Sweet P's whining any day. I do not believe that Mean P exists! How disappointing.

Oy. I didn't watch Cashmere Mafia last night, but Allison gave me a quick rundown, and just...oy. I was all excited about this show, because it had girlkissing right out of the gate instead of stringing us along for six episodes while Caitlin went back and forth over whether she was really attracted to Alicia. And now they're trotting out all the tired lesbian cliches, and Caitlin's back to sleeping with men, but not really, as Alicia apparently forgives her when she confesses, and Caitlin's, what, going to learn to handle dating a pregnant lesbian? When she's still unsure of her sexuality and has yet, at 37, to be in a committed relationship of any kind? Lordy-loo. (Maybe I should have watched this before going on a rant. Whatever. Who needs to be properly informed?) Plus, Alicia is so boring. There are plenty of non-boring, non-pregnant lesbians for Caitlin to fall in love with. I really don't get it--the two of them have no chemistry, but I guess maybe that's Lourdes Benedicto's fault? (It's certainly not Bonnie Somerville's--Bonnie Somerville is kind of awesome.) Whatever. At least The L-Word isn't an abomination this year.

In my quest for decent lesbian entertainment, I rented The Gymnast, and that totally fell flat. I was just not interested in any of the characters, and the acrobatics didn't really engage me, so...it was a flop and a half. The trailer was about twice as interesting. Anyone have any good lesbian-centric movies I should watch? I'm getting a little sad.

In Allison's quest to be crowned queen of awesome, she reported back to me on The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe last night, and we had a brief discussion about how the girls are given weapons but told not to fight, and even though Lucy does fight when she's grown up, and Susan becomes the best archer in the world, the message in that one book, that girls shouldn't fight because that makes battles ugly, is gross. Though, apparently, girls should be able to defend themselves, which is good. At least Lewis didn't want his damsels to be helpless. It is interesting that Susan gets a horn to call for help as well as the means to defend herself. Which one does she use in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe? Guess. I could totally write a thesis on this shiz, but I don't have the discipline to actually do it. I kind of feel like I need to, though, because this stuff has been bugging me for years, and I need to exorcise it. Eh. Whatever.

Uh, yeah. Still angry and boring.

Here are some thoughts:

I love Dr Pepper. I don't love that they dropped the period from "Dr"--what are they, British?

Last night, I had a dream about the girl at Bath & Body Works I have a stupid crush on, and I didn't even remember it until right as I was walking into work this morning, and the ridiculousness of this dream actually caused me to stagger as I opened the door. Bah.

I feel like I had kind of a story to tell--maybe I planned on relating the dream, but I don't think I will this time. I've been babbling about dreams too much lately. (And by too much, I apparently mean "once," but dreams are seldom interesting to anyone but the dreamer.)

I seriously am horrified that Mike Huckabee has this much support in this country. He's clearly never going to be president, but still. That he's even won one state is horrendous. He wants to make this country a full-on theocracy, people! Why don't you see that? Why don't you have a problem with that? Why is it unacceptable for people to not share your religious beliefs?

Okay, moving on. Jess won't go see Ingrid Michaelson with me, and I don't like her enough to go by myself, but I really need some live music. What I actually really need is live Brandi, but that just ain't happening. Ingrid Michaelson is as close to an acceptable substitute as I can get. Alanis is on tour, but the closest she's coming is to Mohegan Sun. Fuck that. I hate Connecticut. Well, mostly I hate driving through Connecticut.

I would like a new emotion to feel, please. This cranky, out-of-sortsness isn't working for me. And it makes for shitty blog entries. Bah.

I'm angry and boring (part 2)

I learned some disturbing news today: Brandi Carlile once toured, albeit it briefly, with Hanson. What a ridiculous combination. Also, according to this interview, she shockingly enough finds police uniforms sexy. This is something we have in common. I, however, would never date a cop. Well, probably. If it was a cop who looked like Brandi Carlile, I'd be all about it. Oh, lord, my brain just went to a place I really wish it hadn't.

West Virginia is now no longer part of these United States. Seriously.

So last night was inventory night at work, and it sucked. Actually, the first part, when we were all hanging out in the back and double-counting boxes and taking away product that was marked out of stock was pretty all right. I was paired up with Tammy, who was kinda punch drunk, so we were laughin' a lot--and even the inventory lady we were double-counting for thought we were hilarious. Abbie and the Chief were working elsewhere, and Tammy and I missed them, so we took a five minute break to goof off with them, and Tammy was all, "Emily and I are working together tonight--I hope that's all right with you, Abbie," because Abbie and I always do shipment and stock and floorsets together. We are double trouble--and when Abbie's pregnancy was this deep, dark secret that only I knew (at work, anyway), I was charged with sticking to her side and not letting her lift heavy boxes of lotion. And she was charged with bossing me around. Anyway, and then Sue was like, "But when do I get to work with Emily?" And I was like, "Eep." And then Melissa (!), who also works at my day job but in another department, put her arm around me (!) and was all, "Well, technically I get to work with her every day," in this braggy voice, and I was like, "Melissa, you never see me." I get so embarrassed when people put me in the center of attention spot like that. And then Tammy and I were like, "You know what would be good right now? Twizzlers." And Jen overheard us and was like, "I just bought some!" And she shared. Jen, the hero of Bath & Body Works inventory night, e'rybody. Those Twizzlers really hit the spot.

Then the Devil yanked me out of the back to help out on the sales floor, which was so not as fun, and Tammy kept cracking everybody else up in the back, so I got cranky and jealous and started trying to covertly send text messages as I ticked off the minutes until eleven o'clock and freedom. The inventory people were nowhere near done when we all left, and the Devil and Liz had to stay until they finished, but whatever! I have a real job.

Charles wouldn't let me sleep again last night. This is a problem, because he's usually fast asleep on my bed when I get ready for bed, and he's so cute when he's sleeeeeeping, so I just leave him there and go to bed, and then he wakes up, all ready to play at two or three, so I have to lock him out, and then sometimes he starts whining and scratching at the door and sometimes he doesn't. Last night, he did, but I finally got rid of him, but then he started whining at 6:30, and he wouldn't leave me alone, so I got to work all cranky and irritated, and my mood's not much improved.

I'm so excited that such a large percentage of eligible voters are going to the polls today. I hope a lot of them are young, just because I hate it when my generation doesn't give a fuck. It is time to give a fuck, people! Something must be done about the state of this country!

Aw, Christ. My phone just vibrated, and I was like, "Ooh, text message!" But no. It was a voicemail from Bath & Body Works. Ally wants me to close with her tonight. Ally is far and away my favorite manager, but I just cannot work tonight. I am so tired. Boo. Because I have to work on Thursday, and the Devil is closing on Thursday. Double boo. Triple boo! This stupid job. What even am I still doing there?

Tell it to the turtle

I'm not even gonna talk about the game. I can't rehash it; it just depresses me. Instead, I'm going to try to talk about something even more awkward: why it took me so long to come to terms with--and embrace--my sexuality.

See? Awkward.

All right, let's hit it. I did not realize that I had weird feelings toward girls until I was sixteen--but as I've said before I had had crushes, on Jewel Staite and this girl in my Girl Scout troop when we were in sixth grade. (Shh, I don't think I've ever told anyone that.) Anyway, when I was sixteen--that was when Ryan told me he was gay, so I was like, "Uh, sometimes I think girls are pretty," but that's as far as I could go. And then I started doing, like, gay-related things with Ryan, and everyone would always ask him, "Is your friend gay?" and that pissed him off for some reason--I don't know--but it didn't really bother me. I was like, "Sometimes I like girls," but I have an abiding loathing for the term bisexual, because (this is all my own opinion, people) it just seems like what you call yourself when you're too afraid to admit to being gay. That's most likely mostly untrue--but that's what I get from it, and that's why I was never like, "Oh, I'm bi." (That just makes me crazy, "bi.") Labels are retarded most of the time, anyway, and I was like, "Whatever, who cares."

But before I even got to this point, I was always like, "I'm not gay. Girls can be tomboys without being gay," and it, like, prevented me from enjoying things that belonged in the stereotypical domain of lesbians. Because I also have a deep, abiding loathing for sexual/racial/gender stereotypes, which is part of the reason that I got so mad when Shannon told me her boyfriend has a swastika tattooed on his chest. But anyway, the one thing that I never really let myself admit to enjoying, because it was too gay, was... Well, the Indigo Girls. And this was stupid, but I was convinced that I had to be not gay, because if I were gay, I'd just be another dyke stereotype, dressing like a boy, playing sports, building Legos and shunning dolls, and I didn't want that.

Now, the thing here is this: I love the Indigo Girls. "Closer to Fine" is a song that I feel like I have always known the words to, and any time I hear it, I just feel instantly comforted. It makes me think of the best parts of my childhood, when my family was happy together, and my brothers and I would make up ridiculous games in the basement while we listened to our parents' CDs. I don't know when, really, I became aware of the whole lesbian issue, but it quickly put a damper on my ardor, because I also became aware that lesbians were often girls like me. I went through a teeny-bopper phase, which I think is required of nearly every American teenage girl, and then I started listening to, like, the Dave Matthews Band and Weezer and all that straight boy rock. (Don't get me wrong--I love Weezer, and I do still enjoy the Dave Matthews Band, sometimes.) But I forced myself to shut the door on the lesbian folk rock. Just because I didn't like to wear dresses, and I wanted to play football instead of talking about which boys were cute did not mean I did not think boys were cute. I should have applied that to my music collection--just because I listen to dykes does not make me a dyke!--but for some reason, that logic didn't follow. So I went through high school talking about boys with my straight girl friends and talking about girls with Ryan, who loved to hear it just as much as I loved to hear him talk about boys, I expect.

Then several things happened. Almost by accident, I caught the totally charming episode of Once & Again wherein little Jessie Sammler (Evan Rachel Wood) realizes she has romantic feelings for new bff Katie Singer (Mischa Barton (!)). It was so sweet, the way it played out, that I experienced that heart-hurting thing, and I was kind of like, "Huh. I got really invested in that, didn't I," and it kind of set me thinking further. Then I went to college, where I didn't really have to worry about how people perceived me, because we were all brand new to each other. And also, Kelly Clarkson won the first season of American Idol. No, really. I developed such a massive crush on her that I started wondering, not only if I was really interested in girls, like really, but also if I was really just pretending to be interested in boys. As it turns out, I was. And when I made friends at college, they knew pretty much right away that I dug girls, because it wasn't something new I had to find some way to bring up--it was just how I was when they first met me.

Still! I resisted, like, declaring myself gay until I was twenty-one. I was still not ready for that. Then I really can't say what happened, but I stopped caring. I was like, "Fuck it, I am gay. I am so gay, and people might as well know that about me, if they care." Because, seriously, I am so gay. If you've been reading this blog for any period of time, you know what I mean. And if you know me in real life, then you extra know what I mean.

So, iTunes keeps playing the Indigo Girls, perhaps in an effort to cruelly taunt me with reminders that I'm not going to get to see them and Brandi live for a very long time, but it got me thinking about all this nonsense. It wasn't until junior year that I even got back into them, because Carlos and I had a radio show during which we only played female artists, and our friend Jen requested "Shame on You," and I was like, "Whoa. The Indigo Girls. How have I been neglecting them for so long?" And so I've been thinking about this for years, how I tried to shove away certain things that were just too gay so that I would not become a stereotype. But stereotypes have a basis in reality, and I mean, you can't say all lesbians are the same, of course, but it's fun to embrace the stereotypes, to make fun of yourself, to try to take the power to hurt that homophobes have.

Also, I was not ever afraid of the reaction of others if I decided to declare myself gay. I don't really care what other people think of me, but at the same time, I have always been rather private. That's why I didn't tell anyone when my parents split up--it was just none of their business. And so I believed it was none of anybody's business if I wanted to kiss girls. I was only afraid of admitting it to myself. Once I did that, I was like, "I'm gay, motherfuckers! Suck on that!" It's not something I go about broadcasting anywhere other than this blog, but if anyone asks, I tell them.

I tried to write this entry after I saw Brandi and the Indigo Girls in August, because that's when all of these feelings really coalesced into a thinkable thought--into something I could maybe articulate, but I couldn't. I still feel like I haven't explained myself clearly at all, but the important things are this: the Indigo Girls' first album is strongly associated with the happier memories of my childhood, and the fact that I pushed them out of my life is something that really bothers me about myself.

The other important thing is this question: Amy or Emily? And can you guess my answer?

Give this girl a Pulitzer

So I was sad tonight, for multiple reasons, and I was like, "Allison, I am sad. Tell me a fun story." And she told me the best story ever--it totally cheered me up, and now I have to share it with the world.

Once, there was a young lesbian named.....Bremily. She really liked this one singer who seemed to always be touring everywhere except for where young Bremily lived.

one day, Bremily fought a dragon and won! she took the dragon's wallet and found in its folds a million dollars!

she used some of that money to take a cruise.
but not just any cruise....

this was a cruise upon which a certain singer/songwriter would be performing!

Bremily went to all the shows and after the last, decided to go up to this singer. the singer's name was Shmandi.

but Shmandi was surrounded by people, and Bremily was very shy, so she chickened out and left. she decided to go to the bar. [which is, like, so me]

so Bremily was at the bar, drowning her sorrows in her 3rd Corona, when she heard a voice...
"I'll have what she's having.."
Bremily turned, and to her dismay, Shmandi was sitting two stools over grinning at her in that way she does.

they got to talking about all sorts of things....books (The Neverending Story, which Shmandi has read), movies (But I'm A Cheerleader!), and how crappy it is that the Patriots are stupid when it matters most!

so they talked more and more and drank more and more and the whole time they were flirting like they would never be able to flirt again.

finally, Shmandi winked at Bremily and said she needed to [go to] bed.

Bremily smiled, with a hint of disappointment, as Shmandi paid her bill. as she started to walk away, Bremily looked down at the bar surface, drunken disappointment all over her face.
but then, Shmandi called over her shoulder, "You coming?"...

and Bremily grinned at the bar's surface, slung back the rest of her beer, and happily followed.
AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER!

The most perfect part of this story--other than the fact that it's an enactment of "Alright" (but with a better ending!)--is that I--er, Bremily--got the money to go on this cruise by slaying a dragon and stealing his wallet. And, as she just said, "it's like, 'woman! I slayed a dragon to get here! you better be taking me back to your room!'" Allison is my hero.

They Might Be Giants

This is where the party ends
I can't stand here listening to you
And your racist friend
I know politics bore you
But I feel like a hypocrite talking to you
And your racist friend

Nueva!

Brandi and the boys have another new song, and it is (I've come to decide, with the help of a certain other BCB fanatic) even better than the first one! This one's called "Looking Out," and the lyrics were kind of a pain to decipher, but I had to do it anyway. I'm not positive about any of it, but here's what I've got:

I went out looking for the answers
and never left my town
I’m no good at understanding
but I’m good at standing ground

And when I asked a corner preacher
I couldn’t hear him for my youth
Some people get religion
Some people get the truth
I never get the truth
I never get the truth


I know the darkness pulls on you
and it’s just a point of view
When you’re outside lookin’ in
you can belong to someone
When you feel like givin’ in
and the comin’ of the end
Like your heart could break in two
Someone loves you

I laid a suitcase on my chest
so I could feel somebody’s weight
and I laid you to rest
just to feel the give and take

I’ve got a new interpretation
and it’s a better point of view
You were lookin’ for a landslide
I was lookin’ out for you
I was lookin’ out for you
Someone’s lookin’ out for you

I know the darkness pulls on you
and it’s just a point of view
When you’re outside lookin’ in
you can belong to someone
When you feel like givin’ in
and the comin’ of the end
Like your heart could break in two
Someone loves you.

I am afraid of crossing lines
I am afraid of flying blind
afraid of inquiring minds
afraid of being left behind

I close my eyes: I think of you
I take a step: I think of you
I catch my breath: I think of you
I cannot rest: I think of you

My one and only wrecking ball
and you’re crashing through my walls
When you’re outside lookin’ in
you can belong to someone
When you feel like givin’ in
and the comin’ of the end
Like your heart could break in two
Someone loves you
(lyric updates/corrections 2/13)

My favorite lines totally are these: "My one and only wrecking ball/and you're crashing through my walls"--those are the lines that made me love this song more than "Avenue of Second Starts."

I just went out to dinner with my mom, and the whole time I was singing this in my head. It's the greatest ever. I think I might have to revise my list of top ten Brandi Carlile songs. Is it better than "Downpour"? Not yet. But it is better than "The Clock."

Apparently, "point of view" sounds exactly like "part of you" when it comes out of Brandi's mouth. She needs to work on that enunciation thing.

Mostly about t-shirts

So this crazy thing happened this morning, and I didn't even remember it until now because I was half-asleep when it happened, but anyway. My mom woke me up, demanding a Patriots shirt because it's Patriots Day at her school or whatever, and everyone's supposed to wear Patriots gear, even though the Patriots are not playing until Sunday, which is not a school day. But whatever. I have one Patriots shirt: it has Wes Welker's name and number on it, and it was in some pile of dirty clothes because I had worn it for the AFC Championship game, but my mom was all like, "Where is it? Help me!" And I was like, "Fuck you, it's dirty." But she did not care, and then she locked Charles in the closet where I keep my pile of dirty clothes, so I had to get up and let him out, and I lost ten minutes of precious sleep. What the hell? Apparently, my mother is now wearing a dirty t-shirt of mine at her job. That doesn't seem very professional to me. Also, I'd best get that t-shirt back, because I clearly have to wear it on Sunday. Also also, this has just has made me want my own damn place more.

Jen got me this awesome baseball glove for my 22nd birthday, but I never get to use it, because no one will play catch with meeeeeeee. I need to make some softball-playin' lesbian friends, stat. If only I had actually played softball.

Aw, man, I actually bought "Rehab" from iTunes. That was foolish.

I went crazy and bought t-shirts today, despite the fact that I have no money, in a pitiful attempt to cheer myself up after realizing there is indeed no way I will be able to see Brandi Carlile until she and the boys carry on a full-on tour. Whenever the hell that may happen. From bustedtees.com, home of my "Everything is smaller in Rhode Island" t-shirt that was a big hit when I lived in Providence (but which they no longer carry, apparently):
I have an addiction to random t-shirts--I almost bought two more penguin-related t-shirts from threadless.com, but, um, if I have one penguin t-shirt already, I probably don't need any more, yeah? But I did find this one that is totally perfect for a book nerd like me:
An ancient library card! They totally don't use those anymore--kids these days probably don't even know what that is. I also like this one because it reminds me of Swimmy:
But of course they're both utterly sold out. Oh, threadless, you and your weird inventory system make me sad. Well, whatever, I really don't need any more t-shirts anyway.