Why do we spend our good money on items that advertise for someone else? I do it all the time…the Harley watch, the Maker’s Mark hat, the t shirt from the Dead Dog Saloon in Myrtle, the Life is Good flip flops. Sometimes I am a walking billboard. I would have killed to win one of Dave2’s t-shirts or hats, but I would have broke down and bought one if I didn’t win. (Good news is that I won a shirt…yay!)
Anyone who has ever flown to Pittsburgh will notice a good portion of the plane’s passengers are wearing Steelers gear…sweatshirts, hats, t-shirts, whatever. They might have on Penguins or Pirates logos, but usually it is Steelers stuff, regardless of the season.
Considering as much as I do it myself, I still don’t understand it. Well, I totally get the black and gold pride so I can appreciate the gearing up for a flight home, but what about the corporations we advertise for? We pay VERY good money for some of the items we walk around in, yet do those companies show us any love? Do we get any breaks in prices of the gear? Oh hell no.
I looked at the photo below which taken at a friend’s recently and couldn’t believe what I saw. Me in the special edition St. Patrick’s Day Penguins hat (oh so not cheap, even after the High Holy Day) and a wonderfully thick Harley Davidson anniversary sweatshirt, holding Maker’s Mark soaked cherries that I bought at the distillery a few weeks ago. What you can’t see is the Harley Davidson reversible belt that I was also wearing. Watch, too. What was I thinking?
Damn it, I am no better than anyone else with this Walking Billboard crap. Can someone play shrink for a day and tell me why we willingly do this? Why we whore ourselves out in this manner?
Next thing you know we will be bagging our own groceries. Oh wait, that is another pet peeve for another day…but at least I don’t do that one.
Here I am in Atlantic City, tired and actually the first one to leave the festivities for bed. (Yes alone, fuckers. Get your minds outta the gutter. Just because I joke about being a total slut doesn’t mean that I truly am. Sheesh.) Apparently there is a website that claims to know my worth in bed. I took the quick quiz and read this:
“Congratulations, you’re worth MORE in bed than the average ($232.15602769299) person taking this quiz!”
Schweet!!! Maybe I was wrong and I really am a who-rrrrrrrrrrrr.
Then I see this:
Powered By Miami Limo
Wait, what??!?!?! Seriously, what the fuck? They are so wrong! I mean, not wrong that i am not a skank, but wrong that I am worth so little. If that skinny bitch could get four grand for one hour with the gov. of New York, I can get more than that. Sigh.
Stupid computer quizzes. Why do I take them again?
(Please tell me that someone took this and are worth less than me. I mean more than me. I mean…fuck. I don’t know which is worse.)
Ok, I am going to do this. For the record, I blame Turnbaby. In Kentucky she kept talking about how much she enjoyed her participation in HNT. She kept encouraging me to try it. And of course she mentioned how good Matt-Man’s photos turn out. (No shit, Turn…I’ve seen em!)
Did I mention that this conversation occurred while we were in Kentucky drinking Maker’s Mark? Ummm. Yeah.
Well, no good can come out of that much bourbon. Especially once I added shots of it to the equation.
So after Turn left and we walked our drunk asses back to the hotel, I was giggling like a fool and sitting on my bed wearing nothing but a tank top + underwear. And black socks. Sexxxxy, lemme tell ya. Except that I sorta forgot about the black socks. Details are a tad fuzzy, but at some point I think I blurted out “Take my picture for half nekkid Thursday!” And the stupid bitches did.
What??!?!?
Yep, we took photos and laughed so hard that our sides hurt. AC, now known as Tinkle Twat, played director and even went so far as to hold up a blanket behind me for “dramatic effect.” Re, now known as Twinkle Twat, was our photographer. They tried to convince me to lay on my back and hang my head over the edge of the bed, but I could have hurled from that maneuver so that pose didn’t last too terribly long. Thankfully I was instructed to remove the black socks, although certainly not early enough. Sigh. After a great laughing fit, we went to bed.
Saturday we got to drinking again. (No one is surprised, I know. Bite me.) I can honestly say that I don’t know how the photo shoot started that night, but it sure did. We were laughing so hard that it hurt. At some point they told me to grab my ankles. Please don’t ask why, but I listened. Here is how funny I thought the whole scene was:
Yes, that is pure drunken bliss on my face. Pure joy.
So here it is, the full photo, no photoshopping even though Turn offered. After hitting “publish” I am sure that I will want to pull this post back, but what the hell.
Oh boy. Here goes. This is my contribution to Half Nekkid Thursday:
Not that I can spell sychronicity. Totally had to look that fucker up.
As you have been reading, I have wanted a tattoo for a long time. (This won’t really be yet another post about my new artwork, I promise. Work with me here for a moment.) Since I was 15 or 16 I wanted a pin up style mermaid on a dolphin’s back. Recently however, I haven’t been able to shake the need for the Strong Woman petroglyph.
Mom’s dying hasn’t been easy for me. I really haven’t dealt with it well. Like not dealt with it at all. Not healthy, I know. But I just can’t figure out how to come to terms with it. I still feel like a kid, how can my mom not be just a phone call away with advice? Having a strong woman always behind me felt like it might help me deal with shit.
When my NOT SO little cousin Re and our Aunt C decided to run away to Kentucky for the Maker’s Mark Mile, I will freely admit that Mom wasn’t exactly what I was concentrating on. More like I was thinking of bourbon and boys and horses and meeting Turnbaby and tattoos and is it possible for me to drive 6+ hours without getting a speeding ticket (no, apparently I cannot). At Tattoo Charlie’s all I was thinking of is why does this bastard wanna charge me $100 for a quick black outline that he doesn’t have to create and twiddle dee fuck, this hurts and I can’t believe Re is piercing down there. (Small aside…he dropped the price. Thanks, Gary!)
Brunch on Sunday before the drive home was going well, as full of laughter as the rest of the weekend. Until Re got quiet and mentioned that she didn’t think I realized the signifigance of the tattoo’s timing.
Me: “Huh? Timing? WHAT??!”
Re: “April 12th.”
Me: “So?”
Re: *eyes welling with tears* “Your Mom died two years ago yesterday.”
Me: *eyes brimming instantly with tears as I feel like I was kicked in the chest* “Really?” *almost a whisper* “Are you sure?”
For me, Mom died at Easter. I’m pretty sure it was a full moon. Wednesday into Holy Thursday. Easter moves around on the calendar, but I associate Easter with my loss. A few weeks ago I was fucked up. But for this trip all I was thinking of was ponies on the track running round and round, meeting the lovely Turnbaby, hanging with Re (who will now forever be known as Twinkle Twat) and AC (who will now forever be known as Tinkle Tom Tom).
How on earth could I have missed the two year anniversary of my Mom dying?
Yet how on earth could I have managed to get a Strong Woman tattoo on the same damn day?
Synchronicity. One of Mom’s favorite words.
Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Universe. I love my new tattoo.
The other day I was asking y’all about whether or not I should get a tattoo while on a mini vacation in Kentucky. (Although I have only been here since 1 AM early Friday morning, I spent quite a bit of time with Turnbaby and have found myself uttering the “y’all” phrase entirely too often. Only jokingly in texts have I said “sugar” so I think we are safe. I am still a Yankee. Even my love for Turn can’t change that.) I really appreciated your comments, suggestions and ideas.
You knew that I had already made my mind up, right? Of course you did. So it should come as no surprise that I am posting a photo of my first tattoo.
It went much quicker than I had imagined. Like 15 minutes and done. I was terribly relieved it didn’t take too long because the fucking thing hurt. Apparently I am a pussy and can’t handle pain. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t cry, but I certainly was not thrilled. And it hurt for a while after we left!
Although I will freely admit that it was worth it. I absolutely LOVE everything about having Strong Woman on my right shoulder blade. Can’t imagine a regret. Especially since my NOT SO little cousin and our aunt were there with me. Their presence really helped make the experience special. Not that I can imagine ever forgetting today.
And that is kind of what this artwork is all about. Remembering. Remembering that I can be strong even when I feel that I am at my weakest. Remembering the magnificent women in my life. Remembering my mom. Remembering the feeling I had in Hawaii, where I first saw the petroglyphs. Remembering that someone will always have my back and I will be ok.
I love it.
Thanks to Re and AC for holding my hand while I let Gary at Tattoo Charlie’s make Strong Woman a part of me.
P.S. Speaking of Tattoo Charlie’s, the signed taped to the front door cracked me up.
Yes, I grabbed a few. No, I didn’t need them this weekend. But I shoved them in AC’s purse. Coz who knows when she might need a handful! 
Oh, and another P.S.! Stories from adventures with Turn will follow, I promise. But she gets me drunk and then it takes everything I have to get something communicated to Word Press. Story time will have to wait a bit… What??!?!? WHAT?!??!?!
Ever done something that you aren’t proud of? Of course you have. We are human. No way to avoid fucking up at least once in a while. Somehow we manage to forgive ourselves. Right?
So why is it that I get so infuriated when a friend has done / is doing something that I have done / still do? One of my bestest buddies is involved in a relationship that she shouldn’t be involved in and I hate it. Yet I have done the same damn thing.
I know it sorta makes me a hypocrite and that is not sitting well with me. Granted I try VERY hard to support her while also holding up a mirror and forcing her to realize the wrong she is doing, but the fact remains that i have done the wrong thing over and over. I am still a hypocrite for doing the whole “if it feels good do it” routine and wanting her not to.
Ok, I can’t be more specific here because I really don’t know who is reading this, or who might in the future. Don’t worry about commenting on this rambling & uninformative post. While I wanted to get this out, it just doesn’t seem to be working. So I am back to beating up my hypocritical self and being frustrated with my friend. Frustrated that she isn’t smarter than me!
sigh.
Ξ April 3rd, 2008 | → 15 Comments | ∇ me |
Well, on Blog Talk Radio. This evening Jester was excited to interview his special guest, Dave of Blogography fame. The man is hilarious and intelligent…I can see why Jester would be eagerly anticipating the show. About 15 minutes before the scheduled start I get a Twitter from Jester saying Dave was sick, possibly unable to make the show, and would I be able to call in.
Ack! Here I am with cramps up to my eyeballs and no liquid courage in my belly. But there was no way that I could leave Jester hanging. He is a terrific friend and has asked me several times to be on his show. Immediately I replied that I would call in. (Dave, if you are reading, I want a cute little cartoon me!!)
What fun we had. Dave kicked off the show with a drug induced few moments of explaining what kidney stones feel like. (note to my kidneys: please don’t make stones. k? thanks.) He jumped off and left me with several guys. Naturally, I thoroughly enjoyed the evening.
My favorite part? Shiny using “I’m Too Sexy For My Shirt” and morphing it into a promo for Jester’s show. A-fucking-mazing! I laughed so hard that I barely heard it all. Fortunately Jester was awesome enough to play it a second time to end the show. Too bad I still missed it due to my laughter. Well done my Shiny friend!!!
In the second hour Jester decided that we should still discuss the 80’s television that was planned for Dave. Lots of shows were thrown around. And I was reminded of my birthday present from this past July.
Today when I left the office, entirely too late I might add, the weather was a gorgeous 47 degrees and sunny even though it was close to 7 PM. Pittsburghers aren’t exactly accustomed to sunshine at 7 PM on a Wednesday this early in April, which means that I couldn’t find sunglasses in my vehicle. Finally, without crashing due to the blinding sun, I found the only pair of shades to be found. Behold me in their splendor…
[why the fuck won't wordpress allow me to upload?!??!! dammit! you guys might have to wait til the morning when i can think straight. crap.]
The sunglasses were a birthday present from my boss and her hubby. They know that I loved CHiPs and had an unnatural crush on Ponch. As I mentioned on the show, I would fuck him twice on Sunday. Sober. But I digress. The shades actually came with the complete first season of CHiPs on DVD. A funny and yet fitting present. But the sunglasses? TERRIBLE.
Sorry that you have to wait for me to figure out why wordpress hates me tonight. Personally, I blame Twitter. That SOB definitely hates me, even if he is playing nice with my new cellica phone now.
Home again, home again. Thank God. Every year I drink enough to drown a small army and somehow manage to survive. But the best part of this trade show? The people. This industry is filled with some of the most spectacular people, people who have become some of my best friends. Although I will tell you, no matter how much you love people, it won’t stop you from laughing at drunken phone calls and text messages.
My favorite Canadian grabbed his crotch and told me before he left the bar, “I can’t believe you won’t walk with us back to the hotel. What if i get hit by a car and flattened in the middle of the street? Who would use the tube and blow me back up?” We had a good laugh, their group left. Moments later a text comes across saying “Oh my god I’m hit. Please proceed to the street.” My “hehe” was quickly followed up by “Funny for you. You are not lying in the fucking street.” Then, “Are you coming?” All I could do was laugh, drink more and send back “I am breathing heavy, but not cumming.” Of course none of the boys remembered sending texts, but a quick review of the history led to apologies.
What I need someone to explain is why the boys who don’t need to apologize are the ones saying they are sorry, yet the pigs who remove their wedding rings on the airplane and say unbelievable things to women would never let an “I’m sorry” escape their lips. I’ve been attending several trade shows a year in various industries since around ‘99 or 2000. The things I have heard and seen are enough to make me never trust a man again, to never believe one whose lips are moving. I’m not the prettiest, not dressed the sexiest, not the skinniest, not the funniest, not even the smartest woman around, yet men constantly throw propositions my way. Don’t get me wrong, I certainly believe that I am wonderful and should be worshiped, but with that being said, these guys go above and beyond. Just downright raw.
Yet the half full glass side of my heart struggles with what the half empty side of my brain sees. Which leads me to a few questions…
- Why do so many men get out of town for a few days only to lose their minds, their morals and their wedding rings?
- Why do I try so damn hard to see the good in everyone?
On a positive note, I want the internet to know that some of my favorite friends were met at shows and they have NEVER had even one inappropriate moment. They are examples of how to be good men. My amazing Wubbie, Lt. Colonel Cock Sucker, my favorite Canadian, the future congressman, That Guy in Cleveland, JS my new YG VP, my work husband…you gentlemen give me hope. I truly love you all.
Hope to have time tomorrow evening to get caught up with the blogosphere. I missed you guys!
I have yet to drown in alcohol, but last night I really tried. On a Sunday! For shame. There will be photos (sorry Truk, not of my naked boobies even though I don’t feel bad because you didn’t vote for mine in Fab’s contest) from one of the parties, but I’m not sure when. Someone forgot a camera and I found it. Late night smiles are fun, right? First I need to find out whose camera it is, then I must make them promise to email me the pictures.
This is my favorite trade show, if I haven’t mentioned that yet. If you have already heard that from me you are hearing it again because right now, at 7 AM, I might still be drunk. That is part of the reason that I love this show so much. The people are amazing and I love hanging out with them. A few months ago I was approached to take over the association of younger folks in the industry. Turned it down again and again before finally agreeing on Saturday to take the position. This group loves tequila and beer. I love tequila and beer and vodka. After drinking vodka from 5 PM - 10 PM I added shots of tequila to the mix. And some beer. Because they were planning on handing me a mic in front of everyone. Damn, public speaking is NO fun. I made my new VP do most of it because the liquid courage got the best of me and I was drunk. Really drunk. Drunk enough to dance. A lot. Oh, and at the end of the night I sang Friends In Low Places with the triumvirate of outgoing association leaders. Holding a mic, in front of the association with friends, I sang. Even though I have sworn to Shiny and Mr. Fabulous that there isn’t enough alcohol in this world to get me to sing. (Here, I’ll say it for you: YOU WERE RIGHT. Feel better guys?)
Ok, more about this party later, in a different post. For now I will say that the problem is hanging out and drinking all night leaves no time for writing. Sorry that I haven’t been around to your places. I’ll get there on Tuesday when I get back home.
But for now I am still here in Atlanta, awake entirely too early. And I need to get my ass in the shower, get on my way to the show floor.
However, before I go, I gotta question for the internet…
I ran into the ex love of my life last night at a party which was held in the Georgia Aquarium (magnificent place…if you have the opportunity to go, do it). We talked for what felt like minutes and hours all at the same time. Really good conversation. He apologized for a lot, I hope I did also, we got caught up. It was truly nice. He was a gentleman and rode with me in a cab to another party, but then was incredible enough to stay in the cab and go away. While talking I mentioned something about my blog, probably because he loved my momma and she adored him. He asked for the site and while I wasn’t sure if I should, I eventually gave him the address. There is no doubt that he’ll find his way here.
So, was it a mistake to give him the ability to look into my life? Will I start to censor myself? When Jester designed this place for me I almost didn’t tell anyone about it. I almost wanted a place to write and write and not have anyone know it was me. Quickly that went out the window because I seem to be a comment whore, but should it have gone out the window last night?
Ok, enough possibly still drunk ramblings. Imma go try to get my act together so that I can work the last day of the trade show. I’ll be back. When I return, I hope you guys have left me lots of wisdom about your friends and family reading intimate details of your lives.
Thanks.
xoxo
Ξ March 27th, 2008 | → 17 Comments | ∇ me |
All over this blogosphere folks keep accusing me of being supportive and kind and generally nice stuff. For the most part I really do try to be a positive person, however I sorta got to wondering why. What makes a person look at that glass and be thankful that it is half full of cool water? What makes a person want to build others up?
And I got nothing. No idea. Because I could have gone either way.
When I was growing up my (step) dad was a mostly miserable city k-9 police officer. He saw so many terrible things on a daily basis that he simply had to develop a tough shell which led to him always seeing the possible worst in any situation. Don’t get me wrong, he had a heart of gold and would often take all of the blankets from our beds in the winter because the homeless folks under the city’s many bridges were cold, but he would mother fuck just about anyone in the blink of an eye & carry his gun to church. We are talking a man who was not prejudiced, he hated everyone equally. Yet he lived with my mother, the ex nun / ex teacher / nurse. The woman who constantly praised and loved everyone she met, a woman who found the good in all situations. A woman who loved everyone equally.
So ummm, yeah. I could have easily focused on one of their personalities and been all cranky or all rose colored glasses. Fortunately I like to think I have a nice balance of them both.
But there was one thing that I think helped me tip towards being more of a sunshine kinda girl. We had a magnet on the fridge which I read every day as I was going for my Kraft singles (I so love cheese). Not only did I read it, but I heard many of the words from my mom. And I still have the magnet. You may have seen it in those images of my fridge from a post on March 18th. But here is what it says:
wow ~ way to go ~ super ~ you’re special ~ outstanding ~ excellent ~ great ~ good ~ neat ~ well done ~ remarkable ~ i knew you could do it ~ i’m proud of you ~ fantastic ~ super star ~ nice work ~ looking good ~ you’re on top of it ~ beautiful ~ now you’re flying ~ you’re catching on ~ now you’ve got it ~ you’re incredible ~ bravo ~ you’re fantastic ~ hurray for you ~ you’re on target ~ you’re on your way ~ how nice ~ how smart ~ good job ~ that’s incredible ~ hot dog ~ dynamite ~ you’re beautiful ~ you’re unique ~ nothing can stop you now ~ good for you ~ i like you ~ you’re a winner ~ remarkable job ~ beautiful work ~ spectacular ~ you’re spectacular ~ you’re darling ~ you’re precious ~ great discovery ~ you’ve discovered the secret ~ you figured it out ~ fantastic job ~ hip, hip horray ~ bingo ~ magnificent ~ marvelous ~ terrific ~ you’re important ~ phenomenal ~ you’re sensational ~ super work ~ creative job ~ super job ~ excellent job ~ exceptional performance ~ you’re a real trooper ~ you are responsible ~ you’re exciting ~ you learned it right ~ what an imagination ~ what a good listener ~ you’re fun ~ you’re growing up ~ you tried hard ~ you care ~ beautiful sharing ~ outstanding performance ~ you’re a good friend ~ i trust you ~ you’re important ~ you mean a lot to me ~ you make me happy ~ you belong ~ you’ve got a friend ~ you make me laugh ~ you brighten my day ~ i respect you ~ you mean the world to me ~ that’s correct ~ you’re a joy ~ you’re a treasure ~ you’re wonderful ~ you’re perfect ~ awesome ~ a+ job ~ you’re a-ok ~ my buddy ~ you made my day ~ that’s the best ~ a bug hug ~ a big kiss ~ i love you ~ give them a big smile
Now I understand that this list was kinda cheesy, but the top of the magnet list says “101 Ways to Praise Your Child” so you have to give me a break here. All I am saying is that it is just as easy to say a nice word as it is to trash someone. I have seen several bloggers get crushed to the point of not wanting to blog anymore when some asshat judges instead of supports.
Actually, I am really not sure what I am saying. Except that I am tired and gonna crash now.
xoxo
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