Monday, February 8, 2016

Tick, Tock

Painting by Randall Perkins
Tick, tock, a crow and a cock,
Sharing a tale of a corpse and a hen.
Sick, work, a hammer, a rock,
Bashing a skull or a shell or a friend.

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Finding Yourself in Your Poison

Sometimes feeling like you're "home" is finding that warm blanket with the fur that's like a stuffed animal's fur and the comfy slippers that you wouldn't even risk wearing to the dumpster out back. Sometimes those things are shaped like a glass with maybe some ice cubes and some special sauce up in there. Now if you know me, you would know that my special sauce up until a few years ago was Pabst Blue Ribbon. It was about as comfortable a drink as a girl could get. I knew the exact amount that needed to be consumed most evenings to make my face relax from a crazy day at work. Today, as I grow to ripeness and my body's metabolism seeks other opportunities I am forced to consider a low carb alternative to my routine. Vooodka! Diet soda mixers and calorie-free sports drinks seemed the logical way to go for dilution. I choked that stuff down, and it did the trick, but it left me feeling like a high school prom date and not like the sophisticated lady that I sometimes pretend that I am. Then one day a co-worker told me HIS special sauce; vodka and soda water with a bit of lime. Maybe I subconsciously knew this was a thing, but it never occurred to me that it could be MY thing. "Too simple!" my mind told me. I pushed back that thought and purchased the ingredients and made myself a drink using my OCD measuring method that comes from liking my face to feel loose in the evenings and having a day job. I immediately discovered that this drink was perfect. Refreshing and tasty. And it fights scurvy!

Maybe you're in your 40's. Maybe everyday beer drinking is making you look bumpier. I invite you to join me in this next chapter of relaxation.

Here's my poison:

A Dixie cup of vodka (two shots)
The juice of 1/2 of a lime
Soda water

Pour these ingredients into a tall glass over three ice cubes. Repeat if needed. Put your feet up. You're home.

Monday, May 11, 2015

Toads Ain't Got Thumbs

What an asshole!
Remember that one time when I said I wasn't going to post blog-y stuff here anymore? Well, here we are... That awkward scene where Peter Gabriel plays in the background, I hold that boom box high over my head, and I hope that you'll still be there for me, even after all I've done and all I've said. I did post one thing on Medium. It was a dumb post about being a hypochondriac. Not stellar. The Medium idea was a sincere attempt at feeling more purposeful. Not a bad idea really, but I have enough to do without adding boutique blogging to the list. Can I get a whut-whut? Can I get a butt-butt?

Remember that one time (you don't because I didn't tell you) I agreed to do this one thing for this one place, and then I wanted to kill myself? Let's just make this into this story about forest creatures...

So the Forest Fairy Queen asked the toad to come show the court his fly catching skills and the toad was stoked and said yes and came up with ways that he thought would make fly catching this cool thing that people would really be into. Then the toad found out that the month before his fly catching demo the Forest Fairy Queen invited the lovely blue heron who wasn't actually blue because she was actually made out of actual gold to come show the court her amazing skills at creating public art and the court lost their shit and the butterflies made a garland of rare roses to drape around her to demonstrate how amazing she is. Then the butterflies burst into flames. I'm not sure why. I think because they JUST COULDN'T EVEN. The heron is just that awesome!

So that's where I'm at. The toad's fictional scenario is happening in June. And the toad applied for another ridiculous thing that he thought would be awesome that's also happening in June. He hasn't heard back from those guys. That one is not looking good for the shitty toad.

You know, we used to have these two little toads one summer when the kids were younger that we found and kept in a bucket with some rocks and greenery and shit. Small little guys. We bought them crickets from the pet store. We put a dozen in there at a time. Within seconds the crickets were devoured. We bought a shitload of crickets. They just kept eating as many as we put in there. Dozens of crickets. Probably cost about twenty bucks to feed these gross things before we let them go.

Toads are dicks and also needy. And whose mediocrity is consuming them from within.

Little disclaimer: Make no mistake, the toad is totally in love with the Forest Fairy Queen and the (golden) blue heron and thinks they are wonderful. The toad has some serious self-esteem issues and often feels more toady when he ventures out of the swamp and into the kingdom where there's so much talent everywhere.

Sunday, February 15, 2015

Moving Day!

Click HERE (or the banner) to go to the new site!
So I up and made a sort of website. It's still sort of a blog too? But it's like a REALDEAL site with its own domain name and shit! I still need to do some fine tuning and add a few more things, but it's where art and craft stuff will go. I re-posted some tutorials there for now and more stuff will be added soonish hopefully. I'm probably going to do my bitchy and/or ranty and/or drinky-funny posts on Medium. That's what I'm thinking for now.

So... this is sort of sad. It's not really a break-up because this blog will always be here. It's not you, it's me.

But I still want us to be friends.

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

R.I.P. Leelah Alcorn

So if you haven’t heard about it already, there’s this kid who committed suicide called Leelah Alcorn who lives really close to my mom. Near Kings Island, in Cincinnati. She was born with boy parts, but realized along the way that she was a girl. Thought that she was born inside the wrong body. Her parents didn’t want to believe this. They chalked all of this nonsense up to “a phase”. Said that, “God doesn’t make mistakes.” Her parent’s friends called her “selfish”. She was very talented. She was very intelligent. She was very creative. She wasn’t selfish. She wasn’t going through a phase. She was who she was. She was a she. Was a she. Was a she. Parts is parts is parts is parts…

She needed parents who loved her. Not judged her. Who loved her. Not judged her. Who loved HER!


JESUS moms and dads! Grieve for your sons and daughters who died to be reborn as your daughters and sons before you are grieving for your fucking corpses!!!

Any parents who want to write to me to correspond about what it’s like to be a PROUD parent of a successful and amazing transgender kid, contact me. We’ll figure it all out together!

P.S. I think Jesus would fucking LOVE my kid! Amen.

Friday, October 31, 2014

Cha-cha-checkin' In

Completely normal photo of me with my shit at Elm and Iron
Oh geez. It's been so long. Don't we get so wrapped up in our business? Our busy-ness? Our biz-naaaazzzzz? Sooo, where did we leave off? Oh yeah, my non-domestic life partner left my work space and squashed my very essence. Just kidding! I talk to her all the time. And I'm practicing "non co-dependent behavior" and "self control". I think I'm growing? Maybe?

So much has happened! Like I got some surgery. I went in to get one hernia hole fixed and got TWO hernia holes fixed. It's like a two for the price of two deal! Can I take a moment to rant about how much OSU sucks for outpatient surgery? Guess what, assholes... A girl who has had four holes poked through her belly and two patches tacked and stitched inside her body cavity might not be super ready to leave an hour after getting to the recovery room. And if I ever see that nurse who bitched about me grabbing her arm too tightly after trying to get up and out of the hospital bed to get my shit together... Oh, I will SO drop some rhymes on her. You can't stop me. Was I so pissed that I never went back for my follow-up visit because I was so pissed because everything sucked so bad there and I hate them? Did I mention that I was pissed? And that I hate them? Grrr... Note to everyone who thinks they need hernia surgery. OMG, DON'T DO IT!!! I would rather have lived with my slightly painful purple belly-bubbles. Pros: FIFTY PERCOCET! At least they did that right.

Stuff, stuff, stuff, then I got to participate in my very first trunk show!!! This was huge for me and made me so happy and then so stressed out and then so happy! I was asked by Elm & Iron to participate in an event called Wicked Wares. I had to do it. Who gets asked to do a thing like this when they are relatively washed up in all things art-related? And in one of my favorite stores in Columbus? Shit, man. I might have peed a little bit after reading that first e-mail. I got a mess of stuff together and made my brain try to have low expectations so that I wouldn't try to develop new bad habits if things went shithouse. The event turned out to be so fun! Like REEEALLY fun!!! And I made a little over a hundred bucks which was my secret goal. And I made new friends which is of even MORE worthiness!!! I rule!

I'll leave you with a few picture gems from the last month or so. I'll try to post something funny soon about my experience so far on the Atkins Diet. Man, there's some material there...

I love you!

Here's me on a pile of Percocets. Great time for a selfie!
Winston as part of the black and white photo challenge. So photogenic! (not so much...)
Can you guess the theme? Is it "the greatest co-workers ever?" That's one answer.
Sex toy or dog toy? Thanks to the dishwasher for making things weirder.
This kid.

Friday, September 5, 2014

Goodbyes Are Like a Sucky Monster

The things this lady has had to do for her job!

Working for a non-profit is, by nature of being a non-profit, sucky.


A flat tire. You can’t get a signal on your phone. You know how to change a flat tire, but you’ve never had to do it all by yourself. Alone. At night. With the crickets chirping. And the frogs croaking. By the swamp. You wonder how something can look both simultaneously serene and deeply unsettling. But there it is. Barely beyond the side of the road. You can just catch the moonlight reflecting on the surface. Near your broken-down car. What was that? Did you hear it? It must be your imagination. Or is it? You lean over to use the tire iron to wrestle off the lug nuts. There’s the sound again. You stand slowly. You walk around the car to the side of the road. The side nearest the swamp. You grip the tire iron more tightly with your now sweaty hands. A twig snaps. Your heart beats faster. Suddenly, the swamp monster comes out of the darkness, its mouth a gaping circle of teeth and lips and hunger. A sucking sound comes from deep within its mouth, from deep within its soul. Hungry, as if needing to fill a void as deep as the pit of hell, it attaches to your head like a flesh vacuum and works its way down your quivering body, ceasing only when it reaches your shoes. It never eats the shoes.

You know… like sucky monster sucky!

You can only work so long for a non-profit before running for dear life, often grasping a tire iron. You certainly can’t do it alone. You need a family. You need support. Sometimes that is not even enough. Allison was my corporate “better half”. She leaves Open Door today to work for the Wexner Center for the Arts. I am sad beyond measure. It’s like having your arm cut off or your heart cut out, just a little bit, not enough to kill you, but enough to make it hurt. And it does hurt. We’ve been through so much together. When I say, “We’ve seen some shit!” I mean that both figuratively and literally. So much shit. It’s impossible to put words together to express what her co-workerness and her friendship has meant to me. She has made me a better person. She has helped me grow. She will continue to be in my life, but I will slowly release her from my work-heart so that it is less painful. So that I can be effective.

I wish you all the best at your new job, my wonderful and talented sister! Please continue to e-mail me every weekend or I will find a sucky monster to pay you a visit! And all of the massive amount of tools in your trunk won’t save you, mwaah haa haa!

At least you’ll have your shoes.