I am currently catching parts of a Pretty Little Liars marathon in between projects. I get that there are literally hundreds of absurd and unrealistic pieces of this show I could pick apart, but the worst so far may actually be the British dude that hosts Spencer when she goes for her fake college interview in London. Aka: a dark wood pub set with a Buckingham Palace backdrop.
From the accent, to the lingo, to the references! He talks about not carrying an umbrella (you know, because it rains there a lot) and wants to fix her a Hot Toddy (which I believe they think is English, but I think it's actually Scottish via India). This man, though semi-attractive, was a fucking caricature of Brits. I'm honestly shocked the script didn't call for him to be dressed up as Sherlock Holmes and carrying around a plate of fish & chips. You know, so we get that Spencer is in London. This is whole other country. *said in Forrest Gump fashion*
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Goonies Never Say Die! Even As Grown Ups
You know, I remember being in my very young 20's and thinking "Man, it's going to really suck to grow up because you never get to sleep at a friend's house again, you don't get to have boyfriends, you have to wear loose capris and chunky sandals to be respected, you have to eat macaroni salad and gain a bunch of weight around your elbows....all this stuff blows". I truly pre-mourned everything I loved about being young. The very Midwest, country, conventional ideas of being a "grown up" made me sad, but seemed inevitable.
I did NOT think that at 38 years old, my friends would all be highly respected individuals who still want to plan bi-weekly biking pub crawls around our city while singing songs from Now And Then and Goonies. I didn't think we would all be meeting up on Sunday nights after a long day of boozy brunching to yell at the tv during the scary parts of Game of Thrones. I hoped we would be having in-depth conversations about race relations, music, art, our favorite cheese shops, but I didn't think we'd be having them while drinking sneaky Straw-Ber-Itas with our toes in the sand on a man-made beach in the middle of the city while someone performs a cover of Uptown Funk on a stage by the Campus Martius fountain. The black tie events we regularly attend are fabulous, but 100% better than I ever imagined as we usually uber there from a pre-party with flasks full of bourbon and sour straws in our clutches while laughing the whole way.
I always imagined a loving, stable, content (boring) relationship that I made the most of by lodging some ill-timed arguments and taking absolute and total control over a man's soul and checkbook while wearing a big ol diamond. I certainly never imagined I'd actually end up in a movie theater getting my thong ripped off under my skirt because we're both really bored with the newest Mad Max movie. Then getting fucked over the hood of the Benz in the driveway for outdoor fun because the blowjob with the top down was merely child's play. I did not foresee these things in my future as "an adult". Man, do I love it when I'm wrong.
I did NOT think that at 38 years old, my friends would all be highly respected individuals who still want to plan bi-weekly biking pub crawls around our city while singing songs from Now And Then and Goonies. I didn't think we would all be meeting up on Sunday nights after a long day of boozy brunching to yell at the tv during the scary parts of Game of Thrones. I hoped we would be having in-depth conversations about race relations, music, art, our favorite cheese shops, but I didn't think we'd be having them while drinking sneaky Straw-Ber-Itas with our toes in the sand on a man-made beach in the middle of the city while someone performs a cover of Uptown Funk on a stage by the Campus Martius fountain. The black tie events we regularly attend are fabulous, but 100% better than I ever imagined as we usually uber there from a pre-party with flasks full of bourbon and sour straws in our clutches while laughing the whole way.
I always imagined a loving, stable, content (boring) relationship that I made the most of by lodging some ill-timed arguments and taking absolute and total control over a man's soul and checkbook while wearing a big ol diamond. I certainly never imagined I'd actually end up in a movie theater getting my thong ripped off under my skirt because we're both really bored with the newest Mad Max movie. Then getting fucked over the hood of the Benz in the driveway for outdoor fun because the blowjob with the top down was merely child's play. I did not foresee these things in my future as "an adult". Man, do I love it when I'm wrong.
Monday, June 1, 2015
YAS KWEEN!!!!!!
Ok. So Anyone who knows me is acutely aware that I flip out every time anyone discusses Bruce Jenner's transition. In a good way. I also bawl my eyes out during any special that airs regarding the transition and how everyone is dealing with it.
I don't cry because I'm sad or worried or because I had any particular attachment to Bruce and his physical appearance, but I cry because watching someone free themselves from things that hold them back from their soul's happiness is a profoundly moving sight.
In my life there have been prolonged times of sickness, unrest and unhappiness. Aside for the obvious fucking snake tornadoes of Crohn's Disease, relationships were shitty, jobs were terrible, friendships ended, and those times were really shattering to me. I get that these are pretty common problems to have in life and you just get through them. For me, I think they were hardest because I'm normally a super happy individual. I really am. I'm not one for big mood shifts, I avoid conflict, I don't enjoy negativity at all. I very much shy away from things that don't make me feel good and I trust who I trust and I always have. Secrets don't particularly appeal to me and any time I've had to keep one, it eats at me a little every day. If you have ever told me a secret, there has always been one person I can then tell it to who keeps it safe and it relieves me of the burden whether the secret is good or bad. And that just got me thinking of how utterly suffocating it must have been for Bruce to keep this inside him for so long.
As I have gotten older, I have amassed a large group of totally kick-ass loved ones. Some of these people have come along in the last 5 years, some have been here last 30+ years. I was talking to my mom about it the other day. My thoughts are "Fuck, I am SO lucky to have friends". What I really meant by that was that I am me. I am comfortable in my skin, happy there, really. I don't even know better than to be totally authentic. Sure, I can keep my shit together in formal situations, I can be cordial to people I don't particularly like, but I wouldn't know how to be fake if someone explained it to me. Authenticity comes very natural to me because it has been encouraged from a very young age. The people around me are wonderful and are beyond valued by me because they totally accept, and dare I say it, enjoy me for exactly who I am. I definitely try to make people feel welcome and happy and loved, though at times, I am a ponytail-swinging, bull in a china shop. God bless my loved ones, for fucking real, man.
Back to Bruce. For me. It would be a death-like fate to not be able to be myself and feel loved as is. And let me tell you, it takes bravery to be yourself just as a "normal" person with "the average things" going on in your life. It really does. To say what you really feel and love who you really love and hope that everyone gets on board with those things, yet be prepared to press on if they don't, takes strength and fortitude. But to actually realize your soul was born into a body that doesn't feel like home to you?? Holy shit. The inner conflict. I can't even imagine. I can't even conceive of it.
To say I applaud Bruce for having the strength to become Caitlyn is the mother of all understatements. Not only did she make these moves, but in the public eye, in front of the world, on the cover of Vanity Fair in a fucking corset and bodysuit. Slaying. (I am in arguably the best shape of my entire life and I wouldn't pose on the cover of VF in anything less than a photoshopped ball gown.) And for the first time, I didn't cry about Bruce, I was just blown away by Caitlyn. Being elegant, being beautiful, being free. Never has there been a better time than to scream "YAS KWEEN!!"
I don't cry because I'm sad or worried or because I had any particular attachment to Bruce and his physical appearance, but I cry because watching someone free themselves from things that hold them back from their soul's happiness is a profoundly moving sight.
In my life there have been prolonged times of sickness, unrest and unhappiness. Aside for the obvious fucking snake tornadoes of Crohn's Disease, relationships were shitty, jobs were terrible, friendships ended, and those times were really shattering to me. I get that these are pretty common problems to have in life and you just get through them. For me, I think they were hardest because I'm normally a super happy individual. I really am. I'm not one for big mood shifts, I avoid conflict, I don't enjoy negativity at all. I very much shy away from things that don't make me feel good and I trust who I trust and I always have. Secrets don't particularly appeal to me and any time I've had to keep one, it eats at me a little every day. If you have ever told me a secret, there has always been one person I can then tell it to who keeps it safe and it relieves me of the burden whether the secret is good or bad. And that just got me thinking of how utterly suffocating it must have been for Bruce to keep this inside him for so long.
As I have gotten older, I have amassed a large group of totally kick-ass loved ones. Some of these people have come along in the last 5 years, some have been here last 30+ years. I was talking to my mom about it the other day. My thoughts are "Fuck, I am SO lucky to have friends". What I really meant by that was that I am me. I am comfortable in my skin, happy there, really. I don't even know better than to be totally authentic. Sure, I can keep my shit together in formal situations, I can be cordial to people I don't particularly like, but I wouldn't know how to be fake if someone explained it to me. Authenticity comes very natural to me because it has been encouraged from a very young age. The people around me are wonderful and are beyond valued by me because they totally accept, and dare I say it, enjoy me for exactly who I am. I definitely try to make people feel welcome and happy and loved, though at times, I am a ponytail-swinging, bull in a china shop. God bless my loved ones, for fucking real, man.
Back to Bruce. For me. It would be a death-like fate to not be able to be myself and feel loved as is. And let me tell you, it takes bravery to be yourself just as a "normal" person with "the average things" going on in your life. It really does. To say what you really feel and love who you really love and hope that everyone gets on board with those things, yet be prepared to press on if they don't, takes strength and fortitude. But to actually realize your soul was born into a body that doesn't feel like home to you?? Holy shit. The inner conflict. I can't even imagine. I can't even conceive of it.
To say I applaud Bruce for having the strength to become Caitlyn is the mother of all understatements. Not only did she make these moves, but in the public eye, in front of the world, on the cover of Vanity Fair in a fucking corset and bodysuit. Slaying. (I am in arguably the best shape of my entire life and I wouldn't pose on the cover of VF in anything less than a photoshopped ball gown.) And for the first time, I didn't cry about Bruce, I was just blown away by Caitlyn. Being elegant, being beautiful, being free. Never has there been a better time than to scream "YAS KWEEN!!"
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