Mullet Count - Maybe 1

This Memorial Day my boyfriend and I made impromptu plans to go to the RibFest in Downtown St. Louis. Not our usual crowd...this is precisely why we went. Ok, so he wanted to go because he is in a constant state of craving ribs...I wanted to go because it was nice out and I like to look at people (and it was halfway to Cahokia Mounds...and I am in a constant state of wanting to go hiking there).

Our established rules of people watching were this...1. Number of mullets, 2. Number of children disciplined in a humiliating way, 3. (I added this one after a sighting) Number of pregnant women with their stomachs hanging out of their shirt (the boyfriend wanted to add that for this to count, they must also be drinking a beer).

The crowd has clearly changed.

1. We saw 1 mullet...and I would say maybe 1 because the boyfriend wasn't sure how long the sides were. I found it quite obviously to be business in the front and all party in the back...but he thought the dude may have always worn a ponytail...and had long sides. I think my boyfriend is crazy...and leave this count at a firm 1.

2. Gladly, we saw not a single child smacked, yanked, spanked, dragged, yelled at, pointed at with a finger, or burned with a cigarette. Nice, that made my day.

3. Though we saw 1 pregnant woman with her stomach outside her shirt...I can give her the benefit of the doubt because she was not only NOT drinking a beer, but I also imagine she was pretty hot and it made her feel better.

We ate a shitload of ribs. They were divine.

I wonder if we made it on anybody's lists?

Mid-Afternoon Rave

My department at work is crazy. The HIV Prevention Departments at most AIDS Service Organizations are made up of people who are versitile, open-minded...and let's face it...a little different. We joke around about how we can never go to corporate jobs because we'd get fired for sexual harrassment or innappropriate behavior in the office (did I mention I'm the department manager? I wouldn't want to transition to a job where I didn't have a jelly dildo on my desk).

Currently, I have a radio with a disco ball over my desk. We decided to have a little afternoon rave, complete with sausage, saurcraut, hummus, and a tape from a recent drag show from the G-Spot Club. People from other departments are stopping by to ask if this is where the party's at.

Prevention is always where the party's at.

We are a diverse (literally, we look like a Beneton ad), youthful, wild, street-wise little group of outreach workers with emotionally and physically taxing jobs. We laugh and joke a lot, we also sometimes cry. We do the majority of our work on the streets or in clubs. We NEED to operate as a family unit or we couldn't do our jobs. We're perceived by many as screwing around in the office...but they change their tunes once they do a ride-along with us.

We're very passionate about what we do, and we come together in the office to support each other and blow off steam. This is vital so that we can better serve our clients.

On my way back from lunch today. Random. 

I'm super self-conscience about my chin (or should I say, the under side of my chin). I thought it would be good to confront my chubby chin. 

Playing with my digital camera last night. That represents pretty accurately how I was feeling at that time. 

Me as a pancake wench at Interfuse. I couldn't hack the cold weather so I have 3 t-shirts and jeans on. Sexy, yes? It would take a minute to get all those layers off! 

Friday night at Interfuse (outside Columbia, MO at Ozark Avalon) 

Green eggs and ham that my boyfriend made for me because he's sweet and humors me when I have strange whims. 

Bridge to an island in my home town.  

National Bike to Work Day...My Kickoff to Balance

So I totally freaked out this week and felt like my whole world was falling apart. It wasn't, I just wasn't taking care of myself. I'd stopped going to the gym and making time for other things that are important to me. Not to mention, I was skipping along pretending that I was adjusting to my boyfriend moving in without actually acknowledging this massive change in my life.

I love that my boyfriend moved in. He's fabulous, we're SO compatible, and I couldn't be happier. But I also had to take a step back and realize that just because he moved to my place, I have to take care of my needs during this transition also.

Step one was spewing forth all this drama to my unsuspecting boyfriend, who, as usual, was extremely supportive. He totally understood, didn't invalidate my feelings, and suggested I do whatever I have to do to feel better.

What I Need to Do to Feel Better
I need to get to the gym again 4-5 days per week. I've actually lost weight, which is probably why it took me this long to crack. Kickboxing twice a week, yoga once per week, and running two mornings per week.

I need to eat healthier again, which is easy because my sexy boyfriend cooks for both of us and I can take it for lunch (I'm pulling my own weight!! I do the laundry!!).

Lastly, I need to take time to hang out with a particular group of people that I haven't been as close to lately. We share similar lifestyles and I'm always happiest when I'm in regular contact with them.

To kickoff this whole "re-balancing", I rode my bike to work with my friend Greg. It's National Bike to Work Day and it was wonderful! We met at 6 am, rode through Forest Park, had breakfast at the history museum, and he dropped me off. The only downside is that I got here by 7:30 am (don't need to be here until 9 pm). It felt really good to be up early, moving around, and riding my bike.

I feel better. I have a plan, I kicked it off with my ceremonial ride...

Interfuse

I find myself kind of stuck. I went to Interfuse (Midwest Burn leading up to Burning Man) over the weekend and had a great time. Here's the stuck part. On the one hand, I'm creative, kind of wild, open-minded, and spiritual. On the other hand, I don't drink or do drugs...and this event seems to have an emphasis on both of these things.

There were so many excellent moments during the weekend, way more excellent than uncomfortable...but the uncomfortable ones seem to stand out more for me. One of the main issues for me is that when everyone's drinking and having a good time, I get bored. Not only that, but I have a hard time connecting with people when they're drinking and I'm not. We're in different places and it feels like this lack of connection always falls back on me. Is it possible that I'm not connecting because of where they're at? I'd like to think that I'm the same person, but alcohol does affect other people's abilities to relate/understand others. I'm sitting there, totally sober, everyone else is lit (or on their way there) and I don't have any options. I don't think someone that can freely drink can understand this. I "hung" as well as I could, but by 3 or 4 am I was done. I didn't have any extra fuel to run on.

In some ways I think I'm a little jealous too. I want to do things that make me feel different than I feel all the time. I've been without drugs or alcohol for 4 1/2 years and there are few natural highs that can compare. Many people who abstain from these things choose not to be involved in these types of activities, but I enjoy aspects other than the chemicals.

One of my diversions with this group has been fire spinning, which produces a natural high for me. I'm hoping that being involved in this, which will keep me distracted from the other things will be enough so that I can find my niche. Most people who go to Burns have a niche simply because they're drunk or high.

I guess mainly right now I feel misunderstood, confused, and like I'm a burden. I'm trying to work on feeling good enough without partying. Deep inside I know it's true, but I partied for so long, and that's why I had connections with people. Now I need to get by with my personality, and I don't want my uncomfortable times to intrude on anyone else's good time. No matter how much I talk about this, I'm still feeling pretty alone.

These colors kick-ass...it makes me feel like there's energy coming off it. 

I'm usually all about "less is more", but I love this complicated design. Her posturing makes me feel like she has a secret. 

I love anime. I love all kinds of anime...but I really love girls with guns. 

I have always had a genuine concern about where all the dead birds go. Who really drops them off in the designated location? I'm more of a "let them go back into the Earth" type of girl. 

Hotline Perverts

I hate it when I answer the hotline at work (AIDS/STD Helpline) and one of our repeat "pervs" is on the other line. They usually don't try to disguise their voices, and usually start with the same cover story.

We answer the phone with genuine concern, usually while multi-tasking to frantically meet our CDC deliverables...and then we have to decifer whether the call's legit or not. I answer the questions they ask when in doubt of their validity. I also answer VERY technically...discussing syphilis chancres isn't as hot if it sounds like a science lesson (ok, when is it EVER hot?!?!?!). As soon as I can tell we're not really talking about HIV/STD prevention anymore, but specific and graphic sex acts (or I hear rustling around and heavy breathing), I find a way to cut them off and get off (not pun intended...heehee) the call.

I think they envision a whole call center of unsuspecting operators...when in actuality it's four of us...and I'm the only girl.

Please don't call.

Sweatshop and Kitty Puke

My boyfriend moved in yesterday. Wow. Neither of us have ever lived with anybody and it feels really good and really exciting. I think it may have felt especially good after all the work we both put in to make it happen. It's not that we needed to make it happen yesterday, we just all of a sudden got really spazzy and...ta da...I have my live-in boyfriend on my couch eating popcorn and watching TV.

We both knew that I needed to make a slipcover for my couch before his two cats moved over. My couch is kind of nice and the boyfriend would have been nervous waiting for it to be torn to shreds. I started on Friday and worked about 8 hours on it (the following time estimates may seem excessive, but I wanted to really trick this couch out. I made a tailored slip cover with individual cushion covers...3 back pillows and 2 large cushions to sit on...out of cream canvas with tan piping).

Saturday I worked for 3 hours until I broke all the needles I had in the house.

Sunday, it's down to the wire...we'd agreed that if I got it done, the cats would arrive to their new home. Since I missed them, I very much wanted this to happen. The hum of the machine, the dark circles under my eyes...cut fingers, broken needles...all worth it when I saw it put together. Beautiful.

Meanwhile, the boyfriend had all of a sudden scrambled to haul everything he needed to survive in a couple trips in his car...and made dinner for us (I was barely able to talk or think...I could just sew at this point...I felt like crying when he told me he was making it, how sweet).

The cats came over...there was howling, crying...and this morning apparently there was puking. I don't care, it'll come out (at least it wasn't on the couch cover)...I'm too excited about my three new roommates to care about a little cat puke.

I rewarded myself for all my hard work yesterday by getting coffee and a donut on the way to work from World's Fair Donuts.

For not being a super cutsie girly-girl, I find this card to be adorable! It makes me giggle and smile. 

My Mother and the "Kit-Cats"

For Mother's Day this year I was having a really hard time finding a card. Somehow, Hallmark has hit the mark on, "Though we have a strained relationship...", "Despite our differences...", and "Although we don't communicate..." and has completely overlooked the, "Sorry I'm disappointing you by living in sin..." card.

I looked around and found it remarkable that the cards this year have gotten more pink, more lacy, and HUGE. There are some huge-ass cards out there...I can't imagine how much postage they would take.

I finally found two...and I'm sending them both! I hope my mother doesn't read this before Sunday or the surprise of both getting two cards, as well as the actual cards, will be ruined. Honestly, I don't think she reads this, I'm pretty sure she can't handle my truth (damn I've been wanting to say that. The preview for Britney Spears and Mr. Britney Spears' new show has Britney all up in the grill of the camera saying, "Can you handle my truth?". I really felt I needed to apply it to my life somehow. Done.).

So the first card is a picture of a little girl with her tongue sticking out and says, "You didn't have to understand me to love me". It means to me that even though I've been a train wreck of a daughter in a lot of ways, she's provided unconditional support, even when she hasn't agreed with my choices. Trust me, children have been disowned for less than what I've put my poor parents through.

The other card, which I posted, reminds me of her pet name for us kids...we are forever labeled to her as..."the Kit-Cats". I'm not sure how this started, my mother isn't the pet name type, but it's stuck, and she still calls us that.

I took it upon myself to decide which adorable kitten each of us is. I am the initiator (I'm also the oldest)..."Hey Mom, this is my need, I've lost my mittens, yo, please help me find them. This is seriously troubling, my hands are cold...".

My brother is the one to jump on the bandwagon (the youngest, but so much younger than me and my sister that he's more of an only child), "Me too. Wait, what did she say? Oh well, she's the oldest, I'm pretty sure I'll need the same thing, at least at some point". He's also the most eager to go in on a gift for any occasion possible...he NEVER misses an opportunity to not have to be responsible for that.

My sister, who is the middle child is, "Mom, don't forget me. I know Carolyn already said something, but don't forget about me, my hands are cold too...see, no mittens...look at me, love me!" I mean this in the most affectionate sense. My sister truly is adorable and not as self-centered as that statement suggests. She's the one we all tease about whenever a camera comes out, she's in front dancing, making faces, etc. (meanwhile, as a teenager I'd be lurking in the corner to escape the camera, pulling my cape over my head in a menacing, anguished way. There really wasn't a cape, but you get it, eh? Dark, menacing, I hate my confortable suburban life, anguished.).

So now I feel like the biggest dork in the world for publishing kittens. Sorry. No, I'm not sorry. I can think kitties are snuggly and cute, especially if they remind me of the cattie little pack that I know as my siblings. Meow.

Dysfunctional Wedding of the Century

I am deeply disturbed by the upcoming nuptuals of Mary Kay Letoureau and Vili Fualaau. I guess the wedding (which I find horrific) is just the fuel for what is bothering me. Why is the American media making it into a love story? From a promotions point of view I understand...creepy sex stories sell...we're intrigued by the pure icky factor. But by making it into a viable news story, a pedophile is reaping financial benefits from it.

Going back, I was totally blown away by the story initially. When Mary Kay's trial was in the media, I was grossed out by this deeply troubled woman who slept with her 12-year old student. How could a grown woman with children almost his age stomach being physically intimate with a child? The media was fascinated by her, possibly because she was attractive and so unapologetic of her love for him.

Their first child is born, ew. She's rightfully locked up and a second is born. Her urges to sleep with this boy is so strong that she has to be incarcerated for 7 years. If this were a man having sex with a 12 year-old female student, would he get 7 years? No, he would be forever a pedolphile and rapist, rotting in a cell for far longer, making new "friends" in the pen that hate baby-rapists.

After she got out, I was hopeful that the story would go away. She's now 42, he's 21...and they get back together!!!!! I picture a toxic vine that grabbed ahold of this young man, making it impossible for him to move on, to be in a healthy relationship with a woman his own age. Throughout anything I've read, it always mentions that he didn't graduate from high school and he's unemployed. Trauma does that.

So now they're finally together...an American love story. A rapist and her victim, their two children...ah, the family's reunited. They sold the rights to their wedding to Entertainment Tonight. Good thing, after all, neither of them have jobs.