Bootylicious Bakin'

I jacked this from Eshin... Whom I blame for infesting my brain with this tune... So I thought I'd spread it around (ha ha):




UPDATE [3/17/09]:
Crap... Ridiculous superfluous lawsuits over copyrights!!! I used to have an odd music clip here, but it was pulled from YouTube and I cannot find it elsewhere... Poopie.

Oh well; get stoned and watch the LazyTown vid three times... Or just think about the tabloid headlines that pink-haired girl will be inspiring in 4 years... "IT'S MILEY!!"


(~The Soup, trademark, copyright, all rights reserved, soooo meaty, etc.)

Eat Me, Drink Me, Play With My Manhole

Excuse me!?!

Once upon a time, there were two office employees magical fairy princesses assigned to clean out a storage room full of rat turds and fist-sized spiders. Reaching a bejeweled hand into a box of moldy books, one office beech princess cried, "Look! I have found a wonderful game! Let us rest and play with..."

Enticed by the vivid colors and modern art, the pair sat on their giant toadstools and began to 'fantasize' about 'exploring' the wonders of the Manhole:

Somehow, the lighthearted and whimsical tone seems mitigated by the force of the Manhole...

MANHOLE!

... because it's laced with GHB.

Or maybe they're subtly cautioning against, 'if he offers to slip your manhole a hot biscuit'...

Remember the days when software manuals were this simple?

Installation, huh? On most models, that comes standard.
(If this were a drinking game, "hard disk" would get you wasted in 10 min.)

The sequel, "the Womanhole", follows the same format of 'interactive exploration', but they keep that one locked up behind the counter.

FYI: I've been to The Mineshaft in Long Beach, CA. I argue that explains my jump into perverted reverie. Don't know about NotAvril... What's your excuse, lil' bit?

[Big thanks to NotAvril - a great coworker with a sweet nature and delightfully bent sense of humor, without whom this post would not have been possible. Good luck at grad school!]

Lizard the Beautiful

Beautiful without and beautiful within...

She understands fashion.

She has the 'snark'.

She's brilliant and talented... Even if her cohorts don't appreciate her sense.

She's grounded and wise... With a great dose of heart.

She's been with me for decades, despite all changes in our lives.

She makes me laugh, she makes me think... She's strong and yet human, a real work of art.

She speaks her mind, but never spews hate.

She lives with a balance of sarcasm and truth... I've seen her like marble; I've seen her concerned.

She relates life case by case; commentary is just that. She's wise and observant: no two lives are the same.

I'm proud to call her 'friend'. I'm honored to let her in.

In the back of a church, I said "I love you" to a young woman in a white dress... I meant it.

This is friendship. This is true.

May we live another fifty years to see it through.

Thank you.

[Thank you for taking my late night call. Thank you for making me laugh. Thank you for listening in this difficult time.]

DaFoWo Show, Yo!

This dry, witty, and well-scripted weekly serial out of Dallas-Ft. Worth, TX, is always a giggle. It's a local news review and social commentary, but that doesn't make the humor any less accessible to people across the country. If you let the player run for a bit, older episodes will continue playing.





Normally, I use nicknames for Pak members, but John was born to be a star! When we were children, he was always the sweetest kid. As an adult, John is exceedingly clever and his intellect surfaces in razor-sharp wit tempered by kindness and good manners...

Just plain adorable all around. Where is Hollywood with the big contracts?! Move it or lose it, people!

Thank You For Bein' a Friend

Puppy,

How do I adore thee?
Let me count the ways:

You never perceived a difference,
A separation between 'you' and 'me';

You just kept on 'til I answered the call.
You never gave up on me.

You pushed when I pushed back,
Gave me the necessary 'reality attack'
When you pissed me off, you kept me afloat;

Practical and fair, you were there.

How you knew what I needed...

Perhaps it was just your way:
Being real fixed me today.

I never would have pressed on
If you hadn't pushed me up.

You are a good friend and an example
Of what 'support' truly means;
It's the little things which make
More than a simple human being.

Thank you, Puppy. You are one in a million.

Buggin' Out

Previously, I posted a little tribute to Chuck, whose LJ pieces keep me chortling day after day.... That's right: chortling.

Chuck always finds great material I could never find on my own. This made me cough Cherry Coke Zero into my nose:



If you want to play with this fun digi-racnid, Chuck found the home site:

http://www.onemotion.com/flash/spider/

Warning: For 'spidee'-lovers this thing is Cute Level:Addictive.

Never Too Old To ROCK!!!

My favorite aspect of this vid clip: how serious the lead singer is about her craft.





Oh, man, that's EXACTLY how members of the Pak have described their ideal 'Retirement Era'. I know what I want to be when I grow up.

(Credit for this goes to FuriousBall, who posted the link on his 'mood indicator', which only makes it funnier. Van, your output just gets better and better - rock on!)

Happy Birthday, Little One

Happy birthday, Sweetie! It's your special day! Do want a puppy?





How about a kitty?






Something more exotic?






Well, lets start the celebration with a creamy treat! To the outdoor market, everyone!
Oh, look! Ice Cream!

Okay, just this once, Sweetie, you get to double-fist the cones. Remember to breathe through your nose...






Don't deep-throat it, honey, you'll get brain freeze.


(Big thanks to Puppy for this one... Messed up, dude.)

No, I'm Not Your Stalker (Reprise)

I will be attending Conflux in Portland, OR, next month, so I cruised through some websites of local clubs, bands, DJs, etc., to get a feel for the Darkchylde community's building energy...

And that's when I found him.

Shaun of the Dead

Yup. I stumbled onto his site and actually squealed at my desk:
"AAAAAAAAAAAAA! Ohmygawd - is that really...? It is!! It. Is. AAAAA ha ha ha ha!"

Luckily, no one's in the office, today, or I would have had a lot of explaining to do.

I make a sincere effort to protect the identity of those persons mentioned here, so there are a few things about this gent I left out or altered just a bit.... I only reposted his picture because it was already accessible through a club website.

But I knew it was him, and, after spending 30 minutes absorbing all the little details, my suspicions were confirmed.

And he knows MST3K.

I'm such a dork.

... I need a new hobby.

Desert Adventures

"Who wants to go on vacation to Nevada and Arizona in August? Anyone? Anyone?"

Meeeeeeeeeee!

Before you question my sanity, allow me to elucidate...

In early August, I joined a group of lovely ladies for a Bachellorette Weekend in Sin City... Although there wasn't much sinning, just sunning. And a lot of cocktails.

NO! Not THAT kind of cock tale! (good lord)

We all stayed at The Palazzo, sister hotel to The Venetian, and were delightfully surprised at the spaciousness and numerous flat screen TVs, but, due to the airlock death grip of their ventilation system, could barely get into the room.




My childhood friend Lizard - an ex-ballerina with fabulous taste in shoes - was almost wrenched out of her stilettos, putting her entire body weight into the door. Seriously, it was like watching a fashion model try to open a 10,000-pound Fort Knox vault. At night, we'd be awakened by a banshee's howling screech, only to realize it was just suction created by another guest opening their door across the hall.

The room was tastefully decorated in soft shades of green... Except for the couch, which was gold velveteen. My other childhood friend, Woogie, remarked it was reminiscent of 1970's Boutique de Boo-tay, and did inspire one to jump up on the somewhat dented coffee table and belt out a few bars of "Brick House".

While the majority of the party chose to be rotisserie chickens poolside bathing beauties, Lizard and I undertook a Girlie Quest for makeup and chocolate, weaving our way through cavernous casinos with as little outdoor exposure as possible. We sweated glistened our way to Sephora, the heat on the Strip melting the lip balm in my purse, and nearly caused my precious chocolate cargo to do the same...

Voges Haut-Chocolat, Las Vegas

Or as I like to call it "Oasis of Decadent Goodness in Ceasar's Palace" (nom nom nom). Word of advice: in the Dead of Summer, always protect the goods - take a cab back to the hotel.

My favorite part of the weekend? Saying obnoxious things just to make the bride blush and giggle... FYI: pink bondage tape makes a great shower gift for the Ann Taylor/J. Crew set.

[C.D. and River have since been married - CONGRATULATIONS!!!
You are a seriously awesome couple - next round is on me!]

After brief respite in California, I joined Yolandar in the lazy comfort of Phoenix... Okay, we were actually in Scottsdale, which made us some of the sexiest beeches at the Retirement Center pool.




We spent most of the time by the pool and in happenin' restaurants/bars, eating great food. Okay, mostly drinking great food.

"Of COURSE margaritas count as lunch! Geez!"

After dark, we went for a walk in a beautiful lightening storm, which, as the rain broke, turned into an unintentional wet T-shirt contest. People either thought we were crazy or wanted to buy us drinks.

Compounding this insanity, we climbed Camelback Mountain, only to discover halfway up we had turned onto the 'advanced' trail. I was in admiration of the leathery old farts who made me eat their trail dust. If I trained as hard as they did in direct desert sunlight, I wouldn't be a buff senior citizen, I'd be more like





The vacation was chic-flicktastic. We laughed. We shared. We fell in love...


With puppies:




My expression behind the camera phone was along the lines of




Yolandar is an amazing vacation buddy and graciously allowed me to drag her around... Even to the puppy store. A must-stop in Scottsdale is Pet's Landing, where they let you molest the puppies and kitties until you're completely smitten and have to resist the urge to buy them in bulk... I almost hooked kittens to my shirt and stuffed wiener dogs in my pockets.

Hey, I needed my hands free to snag a Welsh Corgi.



I always do my best to protect the identity of my Pak and their loved ones, so I won't go into a lot of detail about Yolandar's brother and his family... They invited us to dinner at their home, which turned out to be a drool-inducing fajita smörgåsbord. There were several cute moments: her brother intentionally burning steak because I like carbon coating on my meats; the sister-in-law who risks life and limb and back surgery to repaint the house by herself; their adorable punkette daughter; their World of Warcraft-addicted son who fuels planes in death-inducing temperatures at PHX.
One very awesome family.


All in all, an absolutely wonderful August with some very wonderful people. Thanks, my pretties.


Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to wring out my liver.

More Shiny Bodysuits

Okay, I promise I am trying to compose a post with wit and adoration, describing the wonderful people I met in Las Vegas, NV, and Phoenix, AZ, this month...

In the meantime, you're stuck with this:





Brings to mind this little bit of joy, which iTunes has yet to embrace.

(Today's little distraction was jacked from deathrockluv on LJ, who really makes me want to visit Denver for the Darkchylde scene.)

Only the Strong Shall Thrive

I found this vid clip on my own and it defies words. When I'm feeling pissy about something, I can watch this and be inspired by a person who has the strength to press onward.
I cannot praise him or his friends enough. They are 'real' together and a true Family of Choice unit. Loving someone despite day-to-day obstacles is never easy. There will be emotional turmoil and consternation, but friendships which survive adversity are true and priceless.
I will never view Zack Weinstein as 'disabled', for he has the beautiful ability to appreciate life.
Way to achieve, Zack. You put the rest of us whiners to shame:




Brilliant. Simply brilliant.

Productivity Watershed

Arrived at the office feeling drained, yet content, when what to my wondering eyes should appear? A quick morning e-mail from Bunny...

Which led to a day of online gaming...

Stealthily conducted under the noses of supervisors and coworkers.

Let's just say Eve is layin' the SMACKDOWN on Baby Jesus!

K.O. in the manger, Bee-ach!

If you only have four 5 min. to save end the world:

AAAA! Watch out for the clowns!

"Nothing is scarier than a clown."
Especially when they jump out of the toilet.

And I am digging Viva Caligula.

Oh, look: pagan prostitutes on fire...

It's like the original computer version of Grand Theft Auto: all directional arrows and rapid key-stabbing to commit acts of virtual violence... But I haven't uncovered the 'have an orgy with your sister' action, yet.

[adult swim] and William Street Games rock my world. Enjoy.

(Big thanks to Bunny, who knows just how to make me laugh 'til my nose runs... But if I get fired, I'm so living in your van.)

These Kids Will Wipe Your Butt in 40 Years

The future of America has never looked so bright apocalyptic:

Well, my mother is a malignant beignet because she bakes me.

Uh, huh. Hope you have a backup plan.
And which came first, 'collage' or 'college'?

Meaning he doesn't understand the games, just wants the latest scoop on A-Rod?

I are facilitate with bad grammar.

If you say that with a Scottish accent, it doesn't sound so bad.

Perhaps, I am being a grammar and composition snob. I certainly do not live up to my education all of the time. In an era of increasing disparity between wealthy and poor, comfortable and struggling, I should give the benefit of the doubt to children who may have difficult lives, which affect their ability to learn.

Or I could just benign the bacon pizza.

NOTE: Clips were taken from 9th grade vocabulary tests during the middle of the year. These children are not remedial, nor are they English Language Learners, nor in the juvenile court system.

(Thanks to G-Chen of SoCal: a lovely lady with lots of wit, energy and smiley goodness. CONGRATULATIONS on the new job! Good luck with the rugrats, my dear... And the censored language.)

Candy and Robots

This one's for Puppy, who loves robots and says "gummy buffalo" with an Eastern European accent... Which always makes me laugh until I'm winded ("Is that so wrong?" LOL):


ITT VAN A GUMIMACI (The Gummy Bear Song - Hungarian version)


Giving my source credit where it's due, I yanked this from Brother Walrus, who posted the lyrics on his site... Pay him a visit if you can't understand what the fudge they're saying.

(Sex) Changing the Baby

Some of you may have discovered these in your e-mail box, but, after getting into the intentionally wry (and humorous) debate over the Miley Cyrus picture flap on Chuck's blog, I felt the need to share:


You had a baby, but Daddy always wanted a little Jr. to whom he could teach the joys of sports and urinals? Or Mummy wanted a lace-covered lovely?


No longer a problem!






They even have a convenient payment plan, which helps ease the burden of all those necessary follow-up procedures, like little Timmy's breast implants at age thirteen.


With years of hormone injections and body-waxing ahead, a parent or guardian should do a lot of research on their child's primary health care provider(s).

Remember: Selecting a provider based solely on cost can have dire consequences. Your wallet may feel the pinch, but think of how much you'll save on therapy bills down the road....
















Umm... There's a reason to have the entire staff review the company logo before moving ahead with the sign order:

























Oh, well... Nothing says 'professional' like 500 business cards with sexually suggestive art.

At least you have something to toss in the 'win a free lunch' fishbowl at the Elephant Bar.


(Oh, Jewels... How you make the day brighter... Thanks for the chain mail.)

Mmph... Pardon the Drool

I think my nervous system just gave out:

Lovends (Music and lyrics copyright of John L.)


Some of the best romantic vampire stories synced to a haunting melody...

Somebody get me a lace handkerchief... Or a pint of A negative.... Or a booty call.

You, probably, will not be surprised to discover that the singer/songwriter, John, is related to a musician mentioned in an earlier post, Jenni Wildflower.

Rumor has it this family is seriously contemplating an official collaboration in the Seattle area. If they go on tour, I'll be the geek in the front row wearing a homemade band T-shirt and holding up a lighter during all the slow jams.

We Likes The Meat

So many wonderful early-twenties memories of waking up on someone else's couch, and hearing:

"Who's ready for breakfast meat?"

... or maybe it was "Who wants a big plate o' meat?"

I'll concede it isn't an exact quote, but my Dogg Brain had suffered heavy damage on those nights prior to the morning "meat's up" cry.

Anywho, there are certain carnivorous members of the Pak (Hezzah? Zingger?) who will appreciate:

Breakfast Cake

(it's a sausage, bacon, and cheese quiche with Bisquick to make cake and gravy frosting)

I haven't had the pleasure of meeting these people... The post mentions Issaquah, so I'll assume they reside east of Seattle, WA.

Yes, he is double-fisting beer and coffee.

Is it any wonder I love the Pacific Northwest.

IS THAT "ROCK BAND" EQUIPMENT I SPY?!

Ummm, I'm trying to relocate in a northerly direction... You guys need a roommate?

Who Wants To Scrub The Grill?

OMFG.

Remember those summer nights, the grill smoking in the background while the kids play in the yard?

...Sinking your arm into a cooler up to the elbow, digging for the preferred beverage?

And then the rain would break, soft and heavy, hissing on the pavement, on the overheated grill...

And what to do IF THE GRILL GOT WET....

Uh, huh.

I guess the girl behind the grill is the most important variable in the equation...

(Thanks to Starshine for this giggle.)

Interior Skeletal Chic

I'm thinking of redecorating the Dogg Cave, and this designer is my first choice:




So cozy and dark and inviting...






These are all promotion stills from HR Giger Bar in Château St. Germain, Gruyères, Switzerland.

For those of you who do not recognize the style, think lots of pointy teeth, acidic blood, and 6 major motion pictures:

"Giger’s third and most famous book, Necronomicon, published in 1977, served as the visual inspiration for director Ridley Scott’s film Alien, Giger's first film assignment, which earned him the 1980 Oscar for the Best Achievement in Visual Effects for his designs of the film's title character and the stages of its lifecycle, plus the film’s the otherworldly environments. Giger's other film works include Poltergeist II, Alien3 and Species."
~ www.hrgiger.com


The bar is not open late, which is a bummer because this could be the most enticing Darkwave/Goth club decor in the history of human kind.

If you get the chance to visit, please let me know if the food and service match the ambiance.

Just watch out for the hostess: she's a real bitch....





(Thanks, yet again, to Puppy for the 'heads up'.)

Silver Velveteen Bodysuits ROCK!

This video makes me so happy...
Huge thanks to Eshin, from whom I jacked this clip - you wouldn't believe how much of the Pak is chuckling over this:




Seriously: I can't stop smiling.

...and I catch myself singing at the copier.

...in the hallway.

...where people give me disturbed looks.

Pink is the New Freaky

Ever think Darth Vader was just a bit too dark?

His basic black, although a stunning example of Quasi-Bondage Goth Daywear, may have been more appropriate to the 1980's punk and underground scene than to the prefabricated, American-Idolized kiddies of today who are pressed out of the mold faster than Pimpercrombie & Bitch can say 'lawsuit'.

Darth, sweetie, how about updating that classic look with a splash of color and some iconography which speaks to a broader audience?

Now even little Suzie - age 4 - can be lured into the Wars merchandising machine.

And don't forget to accessorize!

That's it ladies. See? Epic intergalactic battles and semiautomatic sub-machine gun fire isn't just for boys, anymore!

But you don't have to lose your femininity. Think Gene Harlow, think Gretta Garbo, think...

Dita Von Teese

...Looking fabulous in faux fur and oozing silver screen chic, there is no doubt that pink can be perfect....

Of course, recreating this look outside of an international, multi-million dollar centerfold magazine studio can lead to dire impoverished results:

"Love your pets; just don't LOVE your pets."

(Props to Puppy for another photographic dose of amusing blog fodder.)

No, I'm Not Your Stalker (Part Deux)

Voyeurism: Scopophilia; the tendencies or behavior of a voyeur (an obsessive observer of sordid or sensational subjects).

For those of you who have been around since the beginning, you will remember my earlier entry on Shaun of the Dead... Who is, undoubtedly, unaware of that little post.

And he's not the only subject worthy of obsessive scrutiny... Oh, no.


I think I'm in love.


Meet Jodi of Zanesville, OH. Biggest Def Leppard fan in the universe, kick-ass mother and wife: stalk-worthy.

I bet this woman could drink me under the table while spanking Joe Elliott into submission. Her playlist makes me want to present my wrists, manacle-ring side up.

And she loves

Eddie Izzard as much as I do; seems we like our lovelies as we like our coffee: covered in bees...

Jodi, please come to CA to visit Kevin... I'm sure he would love the chance to make out with you, too.

[UPDATE: THERE'S A BEE IN MY KITCHEN RIGHT NOW - 11:05 PM! It's fate, I tell you!]


Meet Chuck, of Denver, CO. I have no freaking clue who he is, but I knew he was gold when I read his profile on OKCrazy (FYI: 'wooing' = low-grade OKC spam e-mail equivalent of "whuzzup, send me a pic of yo' naked torso"):

"About me:
If you even DARE consider wooing me, I swear to GOD I will find out where you live, break into your home, crap in your kitchen sink, use all your bras and panties in your undies drawer to wipe my butt, and help your cat pile the corpses of every mouse, bird, and squirrel in the neighborhood in the middle of your livingroom floor...and then maybe your cat and I will rent a movie or something. Who knows?

"You should message me if:
Hmmmm. I guess, for one thing, you can write me if you want to engage in some good, creative lunacy for starters. Or brain trading. Or hair sniffing. It'll be fun.

I find I'm instinctively treating this thing more as a message board rather than a vehicle for getting somebody in the sack. (None of you are actually having sex, are you? Admit it.) So please be at liberty to freely spew your vomit into my inbox without the fear that I'll put it into jars and make an altar to you or something. (Unless you want to specifically request something like. I'll fax you the paperwork.)"

Tell me YOU don't want to build him an alter. (you know you do)

Turns out there's more to be enjoyed on Live Journal:

Anyone read about that couple who got in a fight over which gang should initiate their toddler? Chuck did.

I follow his LiveJournal postings, many of which leave me laughing and, sometimes, feeling like an illiterate teenager who plays too much Guitar Hero and can't spell "endometriosis". (How the hell do all you people find the time to do a literary genealogy of Aleister Crowley? I can barely check my seven e-mail accounts and reply to my employer!)

Dying is easy; comedy is hard... And dry wit is priceless.

"Dear Jodi and Chuck,
If you ever need someone to clean your catbox, spit-polish your Docs, wax your sister, or comb the shag in the livingroom: I'm already there. But I don't do toilets.... Or laundry with skidmarks.
Clatto Verata Nicto, baby.
Deep prostration at your feet,
RD"


Okay, maybe I am your stalker...
But at least the high level of American Airlines flight cancellations ensures I'm not in your bushes right now.

(stupid black-out dates)

15 Years From Menopause and My Parents Still Want to Powder My Butt

Dear Birth-Givers,

You need to cut the F-ing cord.

Seriously.

I owe you everything: my life (more than once), my health, my somewhat secure financial state, half the meager possessions in my rat-hole apartment.

However, this does not give you the right to pretend that I am still an accessory in your ecru-drenched, white bread, whites' only, swallow-your-emotions, yuppie universe.


Logging into my AOL account and reading all the subject lines (perhaps more)?

NOT cool.


Calling my banker and asking him to transfer money between my accounts?

NOT cool.


To help you understand exactly how far you've stepped over the line, I've made some signs in big black magic marker, so they'll be easy to spot:





Just so you know: all of the behaviors and life-goals you worked so hard to instill in me have not been a waste.

On my next visit home, I'm bringing a serious, very special someone.

It's a man.
(*whew*)

He's white.
(*gasp! what other choice was there!*)

His family are upper middle class Catholics.
(*well, not Protestant, but at least she got a non-crazy Christian.*)

He's employed as a computer systems analyst with a six-figure salary.
(*Thank god, she came to her senses.*)

He drives a black BMW.
(*Hmmm... What series/model?*)

And he has a great sense of humor.
(*No cursing, we hope.*)


I took this when we were shopping for matching black leather belts with silver spikes:



I know you will give Razor and I your blessing.

If not, that's cool.

We'll just move to Portland with his polyamorous girlfriend and buy a house big enough for his weekend metal band, my wiener dog farm, and Trixzy's pole-dancing workshop.


(Special thanks to L. for passing along the pics. Perfect timing, Puppy.)

Live Long and Hotter

Molly,
I know it's not The Doctor and Captain Jack, but it's still pretty damn

Yaoi

Big thanks to Bunny for this submission...

Hmmmmm, submission....

Excuse me while I hit 'Play' again.

Screaming Out Loud

[This was inspired by and written for a particular individual, but I dedicate it to all of my slightly worn beloveds, who are perfect with their chipped edges, scratches, and stains.]

T.,

I do not know you.
I don’t know what has fueled your joys and sorrows.
I don’t know what made you curl up instead of flying free.
I don’t know why you’re feeling broken inside.

My life may be nothing like yours… but I’ve lain there in that hospital bed, feeling worse for being there because I stumbled at the moment of my intended exit, feeling like it was further proof of personal failure and ineptitude.

Years later, I cannot believe I was willing to throw away every minute I’ve had since. No, it hasn't been all pleasant. Yet, the glory of new discoveries in a world I never previously perceived has been dazzling.

What I winnowed from those years was an understanding of the seemingly impenetrable darkness of a haunted mind. Some of us are beaten, some of us are screamed at, some are distorted by apathy. It comes from strangers, casual acquaintances, or, worst of all, from friends and family. Regardless of the ignition age or source of distress, the mind can incubate and nurture stygian obsession with adroit skill.

Consumed by such bile, many display complex coded cries for help. Family believes it sees us. Family swears it knows us. Those who believe they understand us are often the last to know, and rarely comprehend the entire situation. And Family has its constrictions.

A dear childhood friend had a mother more heartless than any I’ve met. My friend’s mother never missed the chance to tell her little angel “you look fat in that”, “that looks horrible on you: go upstairs and change”. For her sixteenth birthday, this woman gave her daughter a scale. My friend swallowed pills for years. Never truly wanting death, but quietly hoping for an accident… Just to make it stop... Just to make the voice down the hall stop.

Then there is another who seemed to shine so bright. I watched her grow up, screamed my guts out at her sports games, and never saw the undeniable truth: she was fading. I was right there, fading alongside her and I never said a word. Her eating disorder reduced her from fierce feminine beauty to potential collegiate expulsion.

...

Those of us in the dark know complete recovery is impossible; we’ll always have cerebral muscle-memory of the pain, but we can turn on a light.
Or even open a window.

Five years ago, as I had another of my then-typical agoraphobic anxiety attacks, someone bitch-slapped me out of it:

“I don’t have any respect for people like you.”

In that black pre-dawn hour, I saw clearly.
I would not accept scorn from the apathetic or pity from the loving. I refused to allow suicidal self-hatred to define or mar the life I could lead. I would be damned if I gave up without a fight.

I was no longer despairing… I was furiously determined.

...

And then there are the people we love…

Living solely to protect others from the pain of your passing is not enough. Tolerating your existence to martyr yourself to their needs is not enough. You can thrive on loving them, but you cannot survive living only for their peace of mind.

In the end, happiness requires we stand tall in our own shoes – heels or flats, sneakers or boots – voices calling out for the freedom, life, and love we deserve.

Don’t whisper - shout. Jump up and down, wave your arms, thrash around.
We will see you.

Never forget: you are not alone.

There are many like us, and I have lived to meet them.
We cannot eat; we cannot eat without purging; we cannot eat for fear of nerves.
We cut our flesh to redirect the pain, to distract our minds, to punish ourselves.
We drink to be numb; we drink to forget; we drink because it is something else to do besides obsess.
We question the source of happiness and beat our heads against the wall in frustration as it all appears ever so slightly beyond our grasp.
We love our families… Why don’t they understand us…
We hate our families… Why couldn’t they see the damage they’ve done….

If you leave us now, we lose another sister, another soldier, who could have stood with us and helped lead the next generation home.

Believe me when I say, you do not want to miss this. The world may be vast and terrifying, and the internal world even more so, but you do not want to miss this.

We are here, waiting. We have each other. We’re a lot fun and laughter… We’d like to meet you.

If you open the window, perhaps you will discover you want to meet us, too.

Idle Hands.....

I usually post items discovered courtesy of a friend...
But these are mine.

I hope your browser renders them a legible size. Increasing the posting size distorts the original image.

Years ago, I completed a full deck of cards on a computer without Photoshop or any other Adobe CS program. And I loved every minute of it.






Oh, I've got more... Idle hands do the devil's work, and mine are too bored for their own good.