When in doubt, meme

 I'm stealing this meme from Joey. He called it "eight ways to bore you," and I'm not sure what the original one is called, but I tag anyone who wants to be tagged.

1. July 24th is Amelia Earhart Day.  Earhart was the first female to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean.  What's something you've recently accomplished solo? 
This sent me into fits of giggles...flying solo...so I think that means recently I've accomplished giving the world proof that I am still immature. And my tomato plants are still alive.

2.  What's one product you use that never ever fails?

It's tempting fate to answer, isn't it? Because tomorrow the toilet paper may disintegrate. I'll say espresso.

3. Have you found your place in the world? Where is it?

Again, questions. Literally or figuratively? Geographically? A few years ago we thought about moving elsewhere in the U.S., but we seem to be meant to be here. As for me, I'm comfortable in my own skin, which took MANY years and is a good place to be.

4.  Worst movie you ever saw?

How can I narrow it down to one?

5. What's the last fun thing you did?

Had dinner with a friend tonight.

6. The month of July is named for Roman Emperor Julius Caesar...ever been to Rome? What's your favorite Italian dish?

Is this a trick question? Gnocchi!!

7. What is one piece of advice you'd offer new mom Kate Middleton?

I have no interest in babies and I'm not a parent, so I'm deferring to Joey on this one, mainly because I loved his answer: 

"Leave the baby in the capable hands of her staff and fly off to Cyprus for two weeks preferably with Harry because William seems a real bore and have the time of your life. I'm sure baby George will just fine and won't even notice you've gone."

8.  Insert your own random thought here.
Again, so many choices! I have a random question, actually. How do you feel about people who are allies on some issues who disagree with you on others? Working in mental health advocacy, our organization's allies are across the political spectrum. A few years back, we lost a U.S. Senator who was a champion for our issues. This was before I worked in the field but I voted against him (I had voted for him the term before) because he went back on some civil rights promises, and that was the tipping point for me.


I thought about this because a well-known Christian figure here is talking publicly about his son's suicide, saying we need to talk about mental health and end the stigma (which of course I agree with.) Someone piped up on our work's Facebook page and said he hoped this guy realized that his anti-gay marriage stance (which I strongly disagree with) caused mental anguish. Which made me wonder, do we gather our allies or throw out the baby with the bathwater? This guy isn't Fred Phelps but it still gave me pause.


What do you think?

And speaking of keeping it in your pants

A local politico's career is going down the tubes here not because he fucked around, but because he fucked around and promoted and spent county money on hotels fucking around with someone just a couple steps down the food chain. (I know, in New York and France, you're wondering what we're wasting ink on this for, right?)

But anyhow, I'm not here to wax poetic about that (the local paper has been updating stories by the hour - that's how starved we are for sex here in Oregon, apparently; we have to take to the internet to read about other people who have done it); but to ask, do you ever have moments where your little social editor doesn't work?

This politician is supposed to speak at an event we're having this fall (I'm guessing we'll have to find a replacement as he goes underground) and this came up in a work meeting yesterday. A new colleague I had only met once before who is maybe my dad's age waxed poetic to us (females) about how sex was a biological imperative, blah blah blah.

Me: "Yeah, but why dip your pen in the company ink? I mean, it's not the affair that people are pissed about, it's the fact that he got her promoted and let her influence policy because of it."

Him: "But sex is a biological imperative..."

Me: "I've managed not to hop on my boss!"

And thus he finally shut it.

We also had some problems with the landlord.

Me: "Why don't they call a plumber?"
My boss: "Because they're cheap."
Me: "We could always threaten to make another movie." (For those of you who haven't read about the adult films that were made in our office by former tenants, click here. No kidding.)
My boss: Staring and speechless.
Me: "Just kidding!" (Runs away.)

Does your mouth ever get away from you?

I don't care if 70 is the new 50, I still don't want to see it!

If you haven't seen the headlines (and if you had asked me when I was in journalism classes if I thought this would be considered "news," I would have laughed at you), Geraldo Rivera, in a quest to prove he's still desirable, tweeted a half-naked pic saying that 70 is the new 50.

Guys, that may be so, but guess what? I can safely speak for the majority of straight and bi women when I say that WE DON'T WANT YOU TO TWEET OR TEXT YOUR JUNK. Any of it. At any age. ESPECIALLY UNINVITED.

This should go without saying, no? But I find myself thrilled that I got married before texting photos and Twitter were super popular, because I don't have to deal with things like...

1. Having one date with a guy, saying nicely it wouldn't work out, and then having him text every few months afterwards, at 4 a.m., once with a naked picture. (Yes, this really happened to my friend, who was mostly offended that he was in a ... relaxed mood. Don't ask me.)

Tip for the uninitiated: unless we ask you for naked pics, WE DON'T WANT ANY ON OUR PHONES. If we do ask, you had better pray that a. no one else ever gets a hold of that phone, b. we never break up with you, and c. you never give us a reason to share said pic.

2. Having no dates with a guy who kept nagging, and then, thinking it would cause a change of heart, text a naked picture. (Yes, this really happened to another friend.)

Who in their right mind was going to say, "Well! I wasn't going to give you the time of day, but I've changed my mind now, based on the totally unsolicited picture of your junk. Here I come, handsome!"

Seriously, why do some guys do this and think it's cool? Oh wait...they want to run for mayor in New York. I get it now.

Spoiler alert and karaoke

Well, maybe not so much. But if you know nothing about "This is the End," and don't want to, don't read this.

My younger brother B. was visiting last week, and when we had a cat emergency, he was very nice and came with me to the kitty ER, and then to the follow up appointment with my regular vet. Mandrake was so doped up on his pain meds that he peed all over B., who shrugged and said, "At least it's not my own!"

He then proceeded to keep watch on Mandrake when I was at work, texting me when and where he peed, poor kid. So as a thank you, I took him to see a movie I really didn't want to see.

Mind you, I am not a prude. I like Seth Rogen. But this movie, beyond a few funny (albeit disgustingly funny) moments, was not my cup of java. It was scary in that it was so over the top I kept thinking, "Oh fuck! I took my little brother to see this?"

My dad emailed me: "Your brother N. said it was superb! What was it about?"

Note to self: N.'s taste has obviously degenerated suddenly.

I wrote back: "In a nutshell, imagine some jokes about jerking off, seeing way too much of Michael Cera, Jonah Hill gets literally screwed by a demon, and a 100-foot-tall Lucifer with a huge, bouncing dick spitting fire all over the city of Los Angeles in an apocalypse."

He didn't write back. Later, I asked him if he was offended.
"No, I thought you were joking."

Me: "As if I could make that up! I'm not that creative."

The only person in the movie I wouldn't have minded seeing naked (guess who) doesn't get anywhere near naked. As an aside, he was two years behind me at my high school. People who find out where I grew up invariably ask me, "Did you know him?" And I say, "Of course not! He was two years younger. As if we would have given him the time of day." Eeew.

Meanwhile, Mr. RK was challenged to do karaoke by a coworker. He replied that he didn't sing. The coworker told him he could rap.

Mr. RK said, "I cannot deceive you when I say that I enjoy large posteriors."

If you don't get that reference, I feel very old.

(And just for the record, I have no butt to speak of, and he's just fine with that.)

Just curious

It used to be that if you got caught in a scandal, you were booted from office, but recent events in New York and South Carolina suggest that guys getting caught with their pants down can rise again (no pun intended) like a phoenix from the ashes.

Now, there's old-fashioned adultery (and a hatful of stupid), like the South Carolina example, but in New York...well, just EEEW.

Eliot Spitzer pissed me off mostly because he was such a hypocrite. "I'll fight corruption! I'll bust prostitution rings! Oh, wait, I'll have sex with prostitutes at the same time!" Right.

Anthony Weiner...well, he at least made use of his name. But New Yorkers are poised to elect both of these guys to new positions (again, no pun intended.)

Can you imagine a mayor whose junk is on the internet because he saw fit to take pictures and send them around? Seriously? Maybe he should include it on a campaign mailer.

I'm just curious. Are New Yorkers less particular about their candidates? Less uptight than the rest of us?

There was a tiny scandal here last year when a group of Republican legislators visited a topless bar, resulting in the resignations of two of the legislators involved. Personally, I could care less where they visited in their off-time, but again, these guys paraded around as "pro-family values" conservatives, so it was the fakery that I think ticked people off. Or who knows? Maybe their districts really got their balls in an uproar because of the topless bar visit.

How about you? Does the hypocrisy, the sex(ting), or neither bother you? If either or both of these guys gets elected, it will make for an interesting civics lesson.

Would you like your answer loud or soft?

Weird shit is happening this week.

Being a nonprofit (read: shoestring budget), we are located in a funky, industrial area because it has cheap rent. We're hard to find and we rarely have walk-ins. In fact, in the two and a half years we've been in the space, we've only had six.

Three of them were in the past two days, and they included someone looking for a mental health networking group, someone who was so drunk he couldn't stand up and was hurling profanities until the police escorted him out, and someone who REALLY PISSED ME OFF.

If you have been reading this blog for awhile, you know I believe in the therapeutic qualities of venting. But it takes quite a lot to really, really piss me off, and yesterday, someone managed to do it.

Tell me if this makes any sense, from either a marketing or a common sense POV. Someone who works at a treatment center halfway across the country happens to be in Oregon, shows up unannounced and wants to make a sales presentation about a facility that 1) is - hello - halfway across the country; 2) hugely expensive; 3) halfway across the fucking country!

We politely explained that we serve people in our own state and the communities bordering our state, as some people work in one place and live in another, and thus refer to local programs. She pushed. We explained that most of the people we serve are uninsured or underinsured, and can't afford a private, for-profit treatment center far away.

"Maybe they have friends or family who can pay privately. You know, your national organization refers to us all the time."

This is hilarious, because the national organization doesn't make any referrals; it leaves it to the state and local organizations, who are actually familiar with services in their respective areas.

Seriously? I'm being nice. I've closed the conversation several times. She won't leave! I tell her my volunteer, who she has been nagging alternately, needs to get back to her work. She makes me promise to give a bag of free crap to my boss (pens, post-it notes, information.)

What I wanted to say, and would have had someone try to do this sales shit to me if it wasn't in the context of work: "Lady, I have a marketing background and this is fucking pathetic. No means no! We're not your target market and we're nowhere near your target market! Do you really get paid for this? And none of your office supply crap will make a difference to my boss, who also has a marketing background and would be trying really hard not to laugh in your face if he was here."

What I said: "Yes, thank you, we will give it to him."

Her: "Will you really give it to him?"

No, lady, I'm planning on fucking eating it! I thought that very loudly.

Finally she ran out of bullshit and left.

You should all be proud. I didn't say "fuck" once until after she left the building.

You also have to wonder how these people tie their shoes in the morning - no wait, that's why velcro was invented.

And at times like this, I wish I could revert to what my dad said to us growing up when we nagged and were being general pains in the ass: "Would you like your answer loud or soft?"

Sometimes, we'd say, "Soft!" and he'd whisper, "No."

Sometimes, we'd say, "LOUD!" and he'd roar, "NOOOOOOOOOOO!" and we would collapse into giggles.

Wouldn't that be satisfying?

How to kayak

Some of you had asked for updates on the kayak Mr. RK and his friend spent so much time painstakingly trying not to tip over...and then said, "Fuck it!" (Not literally, get your minds out of the gutter!) Note how Mr. RK (second kayaker) has his moment of Zen right before falling into the river.

I wouldn't recommend this on a cold day. Actually, I don't think I'd do this on purpose at all. But then I am not a boy.

(And no, I did not come up with the title of the video, Joey!)

An extra inch or two can do wonders

While I was busy ranting about the heat, Mr. RK built a kayak. From scratch.

I wish my brain worked in ways like that. He designed it and built it and then redid the inside a little because he was a bit too tall for it. Afterwards, he said enthusiastically, "You wouldn't believe what an extra inch or two can do!"

And I replied, "Oh yes I can!" (Joey, I came up with this title this just for you!)

It's 16 feet long. Because size matters.

At first I was too chicken to go out in this. I've gone canoeing but this looks a lot less stable and there's no one else in the vessel, so I am a bit afraid of tipping over. By the time I got over that, Mr. RK already planned two kayaking outings with no room for me.

We'll see who benefits from the extra inches.

Can you tell my brain has melted? I hope you all have a good Fourth (no offense to my friends in the UK!)