Out of the Mouths of Matrons

Heard over afternoon tea:

She was well endowed ... and she used her assets as a battering ram.

--Colleague, primly describing a crowded elevator situation.

Naked Bikers or Drag Queen Softball?

I have a conflict this weekend.

This Saturday is the Fremont Solstice Parade, part of the annual Fremont Festival.

1) It is a Solstice celebration. Enough said.
2) Awesome food
3) Car art competition -- handpainted crazyass cars.
4) Bikers costumed only with paint.
5) Republicans usually won't get within 2 miles of it.










Also scheduled for this Saturday is the Bat-n-Rouge softball game, to kick off Pride.

Drag Queens v. the Dykes. Enough said.


How the hell is a person supposed to choose? What the hell were the softball teams thinking? The Solstice Parade? Are you kidding me? What group would play opposite that, other than the Young Republicans?


Dammit.

Evolution

I am loving Dove’s Campaign for Real Beauty. It’s a big Hell Yeah for women. And a big Fuck You to the media. Dove is stepping up and actively working against the unrealistic portrayal (and expectations) of women. They are celebrating real women, of all ages, sizes, ethnicities, and shapes. They tackle several different areas, including:

Print Advertising

Please watch their Evolution ad. You won't believe this shit. It's the down and dirty on what we’re really seeing when we flip through the latest copy of Cosmo or drive past that billboard. All women and young girls need to see this.

This ad could just as easily have been called Exposure. As in exposing the bullshit.

Women: Get it? It’s not real! I mean, did you see that bit they did with her neck? The eyes? The media has purposely and methodically wrapped this shit up in foundation and Photoshop and shoved a pretty package down our throats. And we swallow it. We end up believing that size 0 is normal, that 60-year-olds don’t really have wrinkles. They feed us this airbrushed, Young White Emaciated standard of beauty until our eye becomes accustomed to this constructed veneer, and we think that real is ugly. Old. Fat. Disgusting. Our fault. We think this based on a lie. But even when we know, we still think it.

Weight & Body Image

Dove is also celebrating women's curves. As in fuck that cookie-cutter bullshit. I've seen recent media coverage on beautiful, sexy, talented women like Jordin Sparks, Sara Ramirez and America Ferarra, wherein the Media Tool of the Day ponders the issue of their weight. I'm sorry, but if these very sexy women are considered “fat” -- if they are even in the neighborhood of fat -- there is something very, very wrong.

That’s the media, right there, honey. They did that shit to us. They made us believe that. They have warped our perceptions with that steady diet of skinny, white, child models.

I call bullshit.

I tell you what, Sara Ramirez ever shows up at my door, I’d be goddamned if anything comes to mind other than hot. Seriously, people, have you seen that episode of Grey's where Callie (her kickass character) is dancing in these sexy boyshort type undies, alone in her little camp-out room below the hospital? Goodgawd! How can anyone see that and not fall down at the woman's feet? Please.

And Jordin Sparks? Gorgeous. Stunning. And poised as hell. I was shocked to see that bonyass, sickly-looking FOX news biotch talking about Jordin being "obese". (Lynette's site) Obese? Are you fucking kidding me?! It had never crossed my mind that folks might actually think she had a weight issue. America Ferarra, let's just say it takes a whole lot of work to make that fine female into the supposed "ugly Betty".

It's all about presenting an image to us that over time comes to be associated with The Norm. After a while our brain stops questioning that shit, and we think bird legs are normal. Teri Hatcher is not the norm, people. After we see her type night after night, year after year, we get conditioned to it, and a normal woman actually appears "fat" to our eye. Instead of normal. Because she's standing next to No-Ass Teri. And we don't even realize we've been brainwashed when we autorespond, "Damn, you need to lay off those fries, sister," Personally, I think Teri needs to pick up a milkshake.  And some damn fries.

It really pisses me off, because they've sucked me in, too. Yeah, I can fully recognize Sara Ramirez' sexiness and strength, but I feel that it's somehow "different" for me. It's not beautiful on me. I know better -- in my head -- but there it is.

Beauty at Any Age

Dove made a TV commercial promoting their Pro-Age line of skin products, celebrating female beauty in women of all ages. The commercial showed older women, nude, very tastefully positioned so that no lady bits were in evidence. Profile shots. Limbs artfully arranged.

The commercial was banned, ostensibly due to "partial nudity". Fortunately, you can still watch it at the Dove site. It was in no way erotic or offensive. See what you think.

There is plenty of offensive partial nudity out there that isn't banned. Then again, that nudity usually involves skinny, white chicks in their 20s. Hmm. I'm thinking maybe folks were more uncomfortable with real women above 25 having the nerve to show their skin, than they were with the idea of skin in general. Best keep that shit behind a hefty layer of polyester, ladies.

Girls and Self Esteem

I absolutely love their True Colors TV spot. It's beautiful. Watch it. This is where I'm impressed. Getting to young girls before their heads get filled with this fuckery. Stop the cycle and all that. They have a free kit to learn how to facilitate a Real Beauty workshop for girls. They're partnering with the Girl Scouts on the Uniquely Me! program to raise girls' self esteem. Their True You guide for moms (or aunts, grandmas, mentors) and daughters deals with feelings of beauty. They've got discussion groups and even casting calls for their ads.

Anyway, they're doing something. Check out Dove's site. Watch the Evolution ad. See the truth, ladies. America's top models look pretty close to you and me.

I Hope You've Learned Your Lesson, Missy!

So the sunburn peeled over the weekend. No, I will not post a lurid description of that process. Freaks.

I am left with tender new skin, itchy and ultrasensitive. Better than feeling like a Komodo Dragon, though. No peeling pics -- sorry -- but here's a pic from B-day, last Sunday.




If you look closely, you can see the strip of bright red between my Tigger pajama pants and my strappy top. Basically, I had this fire engine red deal going on with my shoulders, a blinding white back and ass, and this attractive crimson stripe, painted right across the lower back.

My son found the stripe particularly amusing. Hilarious, in fact. The boy actually had tears coming out of his eyes. I'm pretty sure I even recognized the "What the hell is up with white people frying themselves like that?!" look in his eye.

Whatever. It wasn't that funny.

Now why couldn't I listen to my own damn self? How many times have I told Teen Demon about the evils that could befall her while wearing a Too Short Shirt? Especially when paired with Low Rider pants! Anything could happen, walking around with Bare Midriff! There's a reason it's against the school dress code, Missy.

No wonder she smirked beyond what I thought appropriate. Brat.

I have not bared my midriff since setting foot back in the States. Well, okay, maybe that first summer, but not since then. No friggin' way. For one thing, my midriff is more like the dreaded muffin top these days. Second, it's too damn cold here. Tank tops? Are you freaking kidding me? Only as an undershirt. Which I always have on, even in summer. And the closest I've come to shorts in three years are cargo capris.

Cargo capris are found at any Old Navy store. They are casual, loose fitting, and sport an abundance of pockets. More often than not, they are also low riders. Last Sunday, what with the freakish heat wave and all (sarcasm, Puget Sound readers), I donned my cargo capris and a strappy top. (These things were actually stored away under my bed. That's how often I wear capris. I had to shave my damn legs, too.)

I was feeling exposed and out of my comfort zone, what with no undershirt on last Sunday, arms and a bit of lower back open to the elements, but what the hell! It was hot! I was happy! Actually I was manic, truth be told. So, out I went to mow the lawn in my cute little summer ensemble.
You know the rest of the story.

Scenes From the Yard

No, this is not a post about Paris Hilton during Rec Hour.

Does anyone know what these little purple flowers are? (Willym?)





And, are these buttercups? (Hey, a gardener I ain't.)

Oh, and check out the sunset from last night. The colors were brilliant! Unfortunately, our house is not the best place for viewing celestial phenomena -- we're not on a hill, and there are lots of trees around. Mostly we can see my neighbor's raised back deck, which they basically use for storage of all manner of junk. So I aimed the camera up. Made me want to jump in the car and drive down to the water, to see the sunset across the Sound, but I knew it would be gone by the time we got there.

When we lived in Hungary, our house was up on top of a hill and we had this wonderful terrace facing west. Every sunset was gorgeous, it seemed. Summers were hot and sunny, and it was heaven out on the terrace, heat still hanging in the air, nothing but a strappy top, shorts, and a beer, watching the sun fall down behind the neighboring hill.

You could still feel the warmth from the big ceramic tiles on bare feet, even after the sun went down.
Okay, enough of that -- I should get up off my ass and take the canines to the dog park. But if anyone knows what those little purple and yellow flowers are, let me know.

Musical Wisdom of the Day

Songs are like tattoos

Joni Mitchell, Blue

Creation Museum's Adam: Bringing the Bow-Chicka-Bow-Wow

BREAKING BIBLICAL NEWS:

Our own field reporter Big Ass Belle gave me a hot news tip this morning, regarding the Creation Museum. Apparently, the actor hired by the Creation Museum to play Adam has his own idea of Paradise.

Adam, it seems, is porn star. The museum has pulled the video, and banished Adam from the Garden:

The Expulsion of Adam & Eve - Benjamin West

Here's the down and dirty, according to WKYT in Kentucky, the museum's home state.

Registration records show that Eric Linden, who portrays Adam taking his first breath in a film at the newly opened Creation Museum, owns a graphic Web site called Bedroom Acrobat. He has been pictured there, smiling alongside a drag queen, in a T-shirt brandishing the site's sexually suggestive logo.

Linden, a graphic designer, model and actor, also sells clothing for SFX International, whose initials appear on clothing to spell "SEX" from afar and serve as an abbreviation for its mascot, who promotes "free love", "pleasure" and "Thrillz."

The museum's operators, informed Thursday by The Associated Press of Linden's online appearances, acted swiftly to suspend airing of the 40-second video in which he appeared.

What? Adam pictured with a drag queen? Well, well, well. Could this be the elusive Steve?

Apparently, Eric Linden gave up the rights to Bedroom Acrobat, and is no longer affiliated with it. Records show he registered the site a mere 18 months ago. (Gotta say, I'm loving that site name.)

Adam and Eve -- Tamara de Lempicka

I'm thinking the Creation Museum's directors may have been a bit too hasty. I mean, the main premise of their mission statement is to evangalize the lost, right? It's not enough to preach to the choir, -- they're saved, praisegod -- it's the heathens they're after, right?

I'd have never stepped foot in the Creation Museum before. But they might just be able to pull me in with some Thrillz like a porn star Adam. That might just pique my interest.

From a marketing standpoint, it's genius. Think about it; porn star Adam, a few paintings like this one, and a little bow-chicka-wow-wow theme music going on. Eve could even have a pole and do some kind of crazy snake charmer dance.

All the Heathens in the house say Hey! (Hey!) Hey! (Hey!)

Yeah, I'd go see that.

As for Adam, here's his take on the matter:

For the Creation Museum, I did what I did as an actor. It doesn't necessarily mean I believe in evolution or a believe in creation, I'm hired to get a point across. On the flip side, if I was hired to play a murderer, that doesn't mean I'd go out and kill somebody. It's make-believe.

Make believe. I'll leave that one alone.

The Tattoo Didn't Exactly Work Out So Well.

You can tell I don't exactly have any hot dates for the weekend. So, I'm farting around on the Internets today, when I see this Official Seal deal over at Sling's Domain. Hey, that looks fun. I've got nothing better to do -- let's make a seal!

I wasn't actually going to make a seal, for real, until I saw that little sunshine emblem. I have a tattoo that IS this sun. (Twilight Zone theme song, fade in) Well, it was supposed to look like this sun, anyway.

I still have the sketchbook where I drew it for the tattoo artist, a sexyass Hungarian flesh artist with long black hair and an intoxicating sort-of-smile. Sensual doesn't even begin to cover it. Puts me in mind of Johnny Depp, actually. We had this weird chemistry thing going on the whole time I lived there. Story for another day. Anyway, Smoldering Tattoo Guy does a beautiful job with the tattoo -- I mean I was practically ready to sign up for some sort of piercing -- when I decided that I couldn't see it well enough. I thought it needed something else.

STG: This? No. Perfect.

Me: But it's not really showing up. I think it needs an outline.

STG: No. No outline. Trust me. I know what is good for you.
(half-smile. suggestive, sidelong look.)

now at this point, I should've shut the hell up and let him tell me what
was good for me.

Me: That, I'm sure of. Don't you think it should be brighter... maybe more ink?

STG: No. No ink. This is the summer skin, brown skin. Wait some months. The ink must living with your skin. If you don't like it, you come back to me, I'm gonna fix it, make what you want. Trust me.

But I didn't. (Fool!) I insisted on an outline. Just a little skinny one. To "define" it. Why oh why, did I not listen? The man knew his inks. I insisted. He outlined it.

My sun turned into a spider. Fuck!

I tried the whole "living with it" thing, but the outline pretty much ruined that. So I went back. He didn't say a word. Just half-smiled. Covered the spider with his whole hand. Shook his head.

He suggested making it into something completely different. But noooo, I didn't want anything bigger. I asked him to add some sun-colors to the tips of the rays, so it might look less like an arachnid. Maybe bleed the yellow outside the goddamn outline. He wasn't so sure. "How can it be any worse?" I asked.

It's now a spider with painted nails.

Anyway, I guess I made an Official Seal. Since the tattoo didn't exactly work out. Amazing what memories come up whilst a-farting around on the Internets.

Musical Wisdom of the Day

Mercy what I won't give
to have the things that mean the most
not to mean the things I miss.

Indigo Girls, Language or the Kiss

Some Serious Shit About Coaches

(In which I bow down to coaches and use the word "blessing")

This is important, even if you aren't into the whole sports thing. This is about coaches, and how important they are to kids growing up in this country.


Young people need role models. What with Dubya, Paris, R. Kelly, movies and MTV, the future leaders of this country need some real-life folks to point them in the right direction.

Coaches are bringing it, every day. I can literally see a difference in the way my son carries himself this year. Much of that came directly from sports. Good coaches are a blessing, y'all.

Those of you who know me just now choked to see me use the word "blessing", didn't you? (Please, I could hear the what-the-hells from here.) Well, the only other word I could come up with on the fly that conveyed what I'm thinking was "godsend". So yeah, coaches are a blessing. Goddamn right.

They don't get paid much, and some are straight up volunteers. They give so much more than just instruction. They are mentors for these young folks. They are modeling good sportsmanship, responsibility, commitment, and teamwork.

Life skills, here, people. Skills we actually use day to day, unlike sophomore algebra.


I appreciate that several of my son's coaches in particular have been wonderful models for healthy male-to-male interaction. For those who think sports coaches must be big into that stereotypical, macho bullshit, I have not seen it here. These guys have been hands-on with the kids; they hug these kids, put their arms around them, hold their faces and look them straight in the eye while telling what they've done right and what they can work on. They say things like,

I love you man; you pulled it out today!

I couldn't ask for any more from you.

I am so proud of you!

That's okay; you know you're still my boy. You'll get it.

You gave your best; that's what we do.

Way to apply what you learned!

You had good form out there today.

Things that build a kid up. I see my son and his teammates hug each other, and walk with an arm over the other's shoulders. I see them stick together off the field, help each other out.

Female athletes are still working on equal sports status with the men. They still have to deal with being called "The Lady Muskrats/Wildcats/Pelicans". They don't get cheerleaders or assemblies. Coaches don't give a damn about that; they're coaching athletes, not girls. I see the difference in my daughter, because they actually have a high jump coach this year, one who really cares about the kids. It means a lot to her. I hope he's here again next year. (Cross your fingers that he gets that teaching job ...)


And may I also add, while I'm at it, that I especially appreciate the African American men who are stepping up to mentor these kids. Kids of color in our district do not have many mentors who look like them. The images they see in the media and in their own school environment are mostly White.  Well, the positive images are, anyway. African American males face a lot of issues unique to them. That's a whole'nother post, but suffice it to say that when puberty hits and these kids don't look like little boys anymore, people react to them differently. They need positive role models who look like them and who have an awareness of what they're experiencing. The White kids need to see positive Black role models too. Again, another post. Anyway, to the African American men in our community who take time out of their lives to purposefully guide these kids, I appreciate that. Very, very much.

Coaches make a difference.

They show up.

As a single mom, I appreciate the hell out of that.