Lost In The Amazon

As promised, here is the companion video for 

Stiff Competition Edition II Winner*, Danny G. 

                         The video was inspired by his winning suggestion: 

... Along with the comments offered following the original blog post: 

Thank you! 

Please enjoy!

*click blog link at top of page for a more thorough context of video

Have You Met Nate?

Twenty weeks of suggestion taking, and the quality has remained impressive, inspiring, and challenging.  This is everything I ever wanted! Thank you.

Erica offered an incredible suggestion, which will require more tact and research than others—but one that I would like to undertake. I'm going to work towards putting this out before too long. If anyone wants to contribute, please message me a story, experience, or any nugget of information that lends credence or gives agency to this topic. All opinions are welcome.

John's suggestion brought back memories of when I was 8 years old—and I watched The Accused.

I don't have much of a filter either, and if you haven't guessed by now, John and I are related. 

Let's move on!

Whitney's suggestion is happy and delightful. Certainly it is not for me to say what is appropriate, but this does inspire some video magic. We'll definitely be voting for this in the next Stiff Competition Edition.

And Danny, well—he makes his own magic. This brought me smiles all day. Thank you Danny. 

PIIMM is still working on your Amazon inspired video. 

It will be published in the '13. 

Our winner this week is my awesome neighbor Nate. 

Nate lives across the street. We met the weekend he moved in—on Super Bowl Sunday when I was (appropriately) drunk and locked out of my house with no phone. Nate was home with his girlfriend *Brittany Murphy*. The two of them were so wonderful and friendly. They invited me in, let me use the phone, and insisted I have a beer and watch the game with them.  Surprisingly, it was less awkward than you might imagine this situation could be, "Hi, I'm your neighbor. I'm a bit drunk and locked out of my home. May I use your phone"?

Every story has an angle. This story is not what it appears. I found out later that I had knocked on the door about three quarters of a minute after they broke up. 

Yeah, I know. 

They graciously accepted the flow of the night and I never felt any tension. They transitioned when I made conversation focusing on them as a couple. They were either incredibly good improvisers or it was a very happy occurrence I was as drunk as I was and preoccupied with my current woe of being locked out. It was a nice evening, I still see *Brittany Murphy* and I see Nate almost everyday. 

When I visit Nate we spend a lot of time on his porch, drinking beer and bullshitting. Good neighbor fun. One of the things we delight in discussing is his adventures in online dating. He has magical stories. Stories I want to (embellish and) share with all of you, and now I have his permission. Nay, his encouragement. 

I have always been curious about online dating. Could an algorithm successfully accomplish what I had been so devastatingly unsuccessful at? 

But in earlier times, there was something of a stigma attached. If you were online dating (and a woman) you were perceived as desperate. Even though I admit now to feeling a bit desperate at times, I certainly wasn't willing to then. 

Luckily today, it is widely acceptable and is perceived as a viable solution to, not only dating, but meeting new people with common interest. I'm happy for this refreshing new outlook toward online dating.

Nate has some great stories, and I want to share them ALL with you.  One day I will satisfy our wants to see this in live action ... right now it requires a budget I simply don't have. I'm substituting these story boards in the interim. And since he has a lot of stories, I would love to release them as their own series in a sub category of Put It In My Mouth, we'll call it DATE NATE.

If you object to this, speak now or something.

Also, if you do want to date Nate... he has all those things ladies look for, financial stability (car, job, house, no pets but will take care of yours) LIVES ACROSS THE STREET FROM ME SO WE CAN HANG OUT LIKE ALL THE TIME SISTAS! 

But for those of you who know what really matters in life, here is all you need to know about Nate.

He is funny and has great taste in beer. 'Nuff said. 

*Her name has been changed to protect her privacy. I named her Brittany Murphy because, you guys, I really kind of miss her. :-(

Date Nate

Episode 1  

Episode 2

*I've never seen Nate with a mustache or a bow tie. I took some liberties.

Kinder What? Kinder Please.

Don't you just love that song, Shaving Off My Muff For You by Whitney Houston?
It's the best.
Admittedly not as much fun to sing as Pearl Jam's Yellow Ledbetter, another gift that keeps on giving from former President George Bush.

Gosh, I sang* a lot as a child. Beyond just singing, I would reimagine my favorite songs to suit my very, very special needs**.

*Eh, sang is being generous. Whimpered, wailed, annoyed...is more accurate {**scatological  humor} 

Maybe I was under the influence of Weird Al, or my zany step father Kai, but I was in love with this farce. 

My sister Tara was my trusted co author and co performer. Some of our memorable* hits include:

*see drinking  problem

Suzanne Vega Puka
Guns N' Roses  Parasite City
Def Leopard  Pour Some Booger On Me

These songs were neither clever or original, in fact they were probably being repurposed and performed all over the universe* ... but they filled me with joy and happiness**.
*anywhere with radio transmission
**and poop


I am downright positive that I have mutilated more song lyrics than most people. The trouble was/is, if I didn't/don't recognize I was doing/am doing so myself—I might not/will not ever know. 
I've never been formally called out for this, not that I can remember*. Because I definitely remember calling out my older sister for some of the lyrical liberties she took.
*perhaps my mind is protecting me from the shame and embarrassment suffered from getting lyrics wrong. a complete blackout to protect my self esteem.

These are some of my favorites:  

This one was mis-sung by one of my sister's friends. She and I (my sister) loved it, and continued to mis-sing it accordingly

Just because I don't remember the embarrassment of being exposed, doesn't mean I don't remember discovering for myself (frequently) that I have been uttering the wrong lyrics under my breath*, and for some time. 

*how I sing in public

Because what is more threatening than love? Am I right?

Around the same time as this, I learned that I was signing one of my favorite Pixies songs hopelessly wrong too

Gesundheit

Surprisingly, I felt silly upon learning I had been accidentally singing songs wrong, versus satisfied —like when I had purposefully revised songs to my liking. 

As soon as my household had internet I stumbled across a lyric database. This girl printed* (*sorry Mom) every G-D Misfits song lyric. 

I wasn't going to let Glenn Danzig trip me up, no fucking way. That went the same for Peter Murphy and Dick Lucas too. There was much potential for me to look like an ass—but I had it under control. 

I still sing today, or something resembling it. I don't always know all the words, I'll gladly skip over them or make them up proudly. Matt and I sing silly songs in the kitchen or the car and my musical tastes* admittedly haven't changed much.

*scatological

You can probably guess that I would love to read your mis-heard song lyrics. Part of you is desperate to tell us, I know it. 

Put them in comment field, anonymously or openly. It will be wonderful, I promise. 

Thank you for booking your trepidation. See you next fall.

Are you afraid of the dark ... or are you afraid of the light?

Love and fear. Both can be crippling and both can prompt greatness. 
It is as complicated as it sounds.

To write about love I have to decide which idea of love I am writing about. When the suggestion was proposed I imagined “love” was the commonly regarded, romantic love. 

Love and fear appear to be coupled together in some cosmic or empyrean way, in fact many of us live in fear of love. 

Fear of finding love, fear of losing love, fear of being open to love, fear of letting love go...

It's all very textbook, and frankly a little blasé. 

I don't think the connection between love and fear is as inexplicable as one might think.

I think I can account for it. I think it is this. 

We, mostly, fear change. And love, inevitably changes us. 
Bam. 

We are not wrong to be afraid of love. 
Love can frighten. Love can evade. Love can entice. Love can trick. Love can dissect. Love can keep you prisoner. Love can kick your ass. Love can fill you with doubt. Love can leave you alone. 
All of this changes us; that is, if we're lucky.

There are so many more provocative things to be afraid of than love

and there are so many more worthy responses to love than fear. 

I'm not impervious to fear of love, I just suffer from a different stroke of it. 

Self love. This is my personal struggle now, and it's closely related to fear. 

I have always been careful in my words when writing about this,
I do not wish to change who I am. 
I am only seeking growth, 
but with growth comes pain
and sometimes 
it hurts so badly 
I want it to stop. 

But I can't let it. 
When I think of all the times in my life that I was most unhappy, I think of the times I was stuck. 
The times I reconciled everything around me, including myself.
I challenged nothing and no one. I expected nothing and accepted everything.
I was content.
In other words,
I was so unhappy. 

I spend more time with myself than anyone else. I don't want to simply like me, I want to love me. I want to be proud of me. I want to introduce me to other people. I even want to brag about me sometimes. 
But similar to romantic love, I evade, I dissect, I kick my ass, and I doubt...


My advice for those afraid of love is this;
Trust. 
You must trust. Especially if you are afraid. 
Something Everything is at risk, therefore you have everything to gain.

Love can't work without trust. I've witnessed what the absence of trust does to love ... and I feel what it does to me when I can't find it in myself.  
It is a labyrinth of fear. And there is only one way out. 
Trust.






This is a playlist I made for writing the blog:

Oops, I clicked it again

Winner, winner, chicken dinner! 

Almost never have I made a drunken Amazon purchase. 
This is true only because, for me, shopping and acquiring do not give me pleasure. When I am fully inebriated, I try to stay away from such laborious and joyless responsibilities. 
However, in the past (when drunk), I would find myself online...

...I would take to social media like it was my mountain and I, Roland Orzabal of Tears For Fears.

In other words, nothing was too embarrassing for me to post. 
It wasn't that I didn't have any shame, it's just that my shame was floating on top of a pint glass and I must have swallowed it — or something ... 

In the easiest words possible, I was a drunk — and I preferred online sharing to online shopping. 

For Example

But oh, how much easier my life could have been if only I'd retreated from playing Silver Strike and treated myself to some guilty shopping pleasures. 
Instead of just a hangover (and an overwhelming sense I need to apologize to someone) I would wake up to something more ... something new at my door. 

It could have been this:

Jack Burton figurine 

Or:

John C. McGinley trading card

Even: 

Jason Segel pillowcase

No matter what ridiculous item I drunk shopped, the consequences seem less traumatic and definitely more delightful.  I wish Danny had filled my head with the idea of this drunk decorating earlier. 

My Amazon purchases are, in truth, quite lame. 

I buy school books, shoes, household items, and toiletries through Amazon. Only once did I buy something unique ... and frankly I had to because I was so shocked it was being sold on Amazon, if you follow. 

My wish list now consists of more housewares, some video games, some books, a swatch watch, and a new liner for my dog's bed. 

Basically—lots of uninspired stuff that if I got drunk now and bought it, the psychological repercussions would be low to null. 

I did some reading and found that "buy and ship now" syndrome is occurring and is nothing to screw around with. 

I wanted to make Danny a video inspired by his suggestion, but I came down with icky strep throat and lacked the physical strength to do so by deadline. In fact, I barely have the mental faculties now to write this.

What I propose is this:

If you have been afflicted with "buy and ship now" syndrome (please) tell me your most anguishing purchase. 

You can do so anonymously as a comment on the blog. I will pick one and dedicate a video segment to it ... and who knows, maybe it will facilitate a little healing?  

Snap, Crackle, Rock, and Roll

Runner Up

For me, in first grade there were hierarchies of best friends. I had Margaux, my true (and neighborhood) best friend and I had Jamie, my classroom best friend. Jamie once punched me in my gut during recess in front of the whole grade, just for funnies. That is how I can safely make the distinction. 
Jamie came to play at my house one afternoon. We were outside and playing at the bottom of the driveway. I remember distinctly how different ends of the driveway mattered for playing. You could potentially have more fun at the bottom of the driveway, at least the kind of fun Jamie and I were having. 
I was experiencing that first moment when you find pleasure in poking fun at other people. Jamie and I were taking turns making jokes about kids in our class. This is when I first discovered how easy it is to be funny at other people's expense; a crutch I have used but am proud to say doesn't define my humor. 
This could also serve as insight into why Jamie wasn't my true best friend. 

Backing up a moment—at the bottom of the driveway lived a Dogwood tree. In the fall it produced tiny berries. Jamie dared me to eat a few of them. It was also at this time I learned that if you do things people dare you to do, they are likely to be impressed with you. Or so I thought. It turns out what they are noticing is that you can easily be coerced into doing dumb things. This truth didn't materialize until recently. In other words, I have a long history of putting things in my mouth on a dare (keep this clean readers) and perhaps it led me to this very moment, and this aptly titled blog you and I share. 

And now, the moment I laughed the hardest:
Jamie and I, bottom of the driveway, basically making fun of our peers <bad><don't do this>, laughing hysterically (and yes, mostly because I am hysterical). 

Barf

I threw up

All over the bottom of the driveway

Jamie ran inside to get my Mom, convinced that I had been poisoned by the Dogwood berries I had eaten (for popularity).  I had not. I had just laughed so god damn hard that I threw up.

 It was pretty awesome actually.

Winner

This video should say it all. I hope it pleases you, I really do. But I guess if it doesn't, I could always record me eating this stale....

Are you kidding? NO, watch the video. 

It's Friday. Where do I send thanks to?

I am super grateful to those of you who voted. The hard numbers make truthful this statement; 3 out of 5 co-bloggers want to put it in my mouth on a Friday. I am here to make that dream come true.

pay day

With voting occurring on Friday, I will be postponing the following week's post until Saturday [in a strained attempt of maintaining the integrity of the voting thread]. 

This is our first "Saturday post".  Curiously it is written about Friday. 

Having worked nearly two decades in a field that mandates weekend work, I never embraced the T.G.I.F spirit that so many 9-5'ers do.  You might even say I was antithetical.  I did, however, completely abide by the idea that no matter where you worked, weekends started on Friday.  My Friday was Tuesday for many consecutive years and, come that day, I would proudly announce, "today is my Friday".

Having to assimilate my week with other working civilians wasn't difficult, but there exists a certain level of alienation that takes host in your body. Mine serves as a reminder to be grateful for all opportunities to see the world from outside the offered perspective. 

No matter when your Friday is, can we agree on the small amount of magic we endow it with, and everything it preludes? 
A little respite from our slave lives, an opportunity to slow down and be with family, an excuse to party, take a jaunt, a cessation of work, leisure time! 

This past Friday, [yesterday] September 20th, was my older sister Tara's birthday.  One thing we loved more than anything, growing up, was The Cure.  She, specifically, had an intimidating wealth of posters, B-sides, and T-shirts.  She knew more about Robert Smith than I've known about most of my boyfriends.  Her fandom rivaled all that I have ever seen.  

This video is for Friday, this video is for Tara, this video is for you.