Let Liz Speak

Okay, okay, okay, I swore that the next time I posted it would not be about politics and, come to think of it, that’s probably why I haven’t written anything in like 3 months, because, honestly, what the fuck else is any sane, thinking human being preoccupied with right now?!?!! So I decided to hone my outrage to one specific thing and that thing is motherfucking patriarchy! Specifically the atrocious and hypocritical treatment of Senator Elizabeth Warren during the Senate debate over the confirmation of Trump’s nominee for Attorney General, Alabama Senator Jeff Sessions.

On Tuesday Senator Warren attempted to read a letter written by Coretta Scott King. The letter had been sent to then Senator Strom Thurmond regarding Jeff Sessions’ nomination for a federal judiciary seat in 1986. In her 1986 letter the widow of the Civil Rights leader details how Sessions had continually made efforts to suppress the votes and voices of Black Americans in the State of Alabama. King laid out, in very measured language, how Sessions attempted to abuse the power of his office at the time in his “eagerness to bring to trial and convict three leaders of the Perry County Civic League…despite evidence clearly demonstrating their innocence of any wrongdoing”. Sessions was not confirmed for that Judiciary seat in 1986 by a vote of 10 to 8. Did you guys hear that? This guy was deemed too racist and polarizing to be  judge….IN 1986!!!!

Not once, in her letter, did King resort to name-calling, speculation or rhetoric. She simply recited history from an eyewitness point of view. So it was kind of slightly odd when Senate Majority Leader, Mitch McConnell stopped Senator Warren in the middle of her reading this letter to say that she was “impugning the character of a fellow Senator”. What happened next is straight out of my college journalism class where I would raise my hand to answer a question, get called on by my flagrantly sexist Indian journalism teacher (yeah, it was community college so he definitely does not get to be called a “professor”), provide the correct answer to his question only to have him tell me I was wrong, then call on the boy sitting next to me who said THE EXACT SAME FUCKING THING AS I JUST SAID and was told he was correct. It was literally like being in the Twilight Zone. I audibly said, simultaneously addressing everyone in the class and no one in particular “Isn’t that EXACTLY what I just said?!?!” which was met with general murmurs of confirmation and agreement.

McConnell interrupted Senator Warren’s remarks about Sessions and she was then reprimanded by the Senate Majority Leader. Warren was then gaveled down by Republican Senator Steve Daines (Montana) and told to “take her seat”. McConnell then cited rule XIX which prohibits debating senators from ascribing “to another senator or to other senators any conduct or motive unworthy or unbecoming a senator.” Which is pretty much a bullshit rule to begin with and one that no one has ever paid attention to until it came time to shut up an outspoken woman on the Senate floor. When asked about the silencing of one of his colleague McConnell responded by saying “She was warned. She was given an explanation. Nevertheless she persisted.” and now Mitch McConnell will have to live the rest of his short, miserable life knowing that thousands of feminists are at this very moment getting his words tattooed across their ribcages. Take that, patriarchy! Mitch McConnell’s very concise history of the Women’s movement was quickly turned into a meme because of course it was and #ShePersisted became one of the most awesome things on the internet for a few hours because that’s pretty much the shelf life of sensationalist internet memes.

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Sadly, the fact that Senator Warren was censured, reprimanded like a disobedient school girl, ordered to sit down and shut up, and ultimately blocked from speaking by her male peers comes as no surprise. What was slightly more surprising and very irksome was that just a few hours after Senator Warren was ordered off the Senate floor Democratic Senator Jeff Merkley of Oregon picked up Mrs. King’s letter and read it in its entirety, uninterrupted by McConnell or his cronies. So to recap, it’s okay for a dude to violate rule XIX but not for a lady? Is that the lesson I was supposed to learn from watching C-SPAN yesterday? That my voice, because it issues from a body in possession of a vagina, will never be as valuable as the voices of my male peers and colleagues? Because THAT is shit! To be clear, I applaud Senator Merkley for picking up where Warren left off and using his voice to convey the messages that she could not. I just think it’s supremely fucked up that he had to do that in the first place.

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Then there is the hypocrisy that goes along with all this shit. The fact that male Senators have, on record and on the Senate floor, called other colleagues horrible names and definitely impugned their characters but were never censured and rule XIX was never officially invoked. It was not invoked in May of last year when Republican Senator Tom Cotton of Arkansas had this to say about then Democratic Senate Minority leader Harry Reid:

“I’m forced to listen to the bitter, vulgar, incoherent ramblings of the minority leader,” “Normally, like every other American, I ignore them. I can’t ignore them today. . . . When was the last time the minority leader read a bill? It was probably an electricity bill. … This institution will be cursed less with his cancerous leadership.”

It was not officially invoked when, in the Summer of 2015, Republican Senator Ted Cruz called Senator Mitch McConnell a liar on the Senate floor. It was not invoked when Senator Harry Reid called his Republican colleagues “puppets” in 2007. It was not invoked when, in response to Reid’s comments, Republican Senator Arlen Specter fired back with the implication that Reid was not qualified enough to do his job. It was not invoked in the initial 1986 hearing when Senator Ted Kennedy called Jeff Sessions “a disgrace” (although Sessions was not then a sitting Senator). It was not invoked in 1979 when Republican Senator Lowell Weicker (Connecticut) called his colleague, Republican Senator John Heinz (Pennsylvania) “an idiot” and “devious”. Have you noticed anything about all those who were warned about Rule XIX but were not forced to “take their seat” or forced to “shut up” or ousted from the Senate floor? If you guessed they were all dudes you get a gold star for paying attention.

This serves to reinforce the idea that it is far more uncomfortable and outrageous when a woman is being tough and outspoken. I actually just read an “article” (those are my sarcastic air quotes) on the clearly bipartisan website Restate.com (nice name guys) about how liberals need to stop whining about Warren’s treatment and that “the Republicans treated Senator Ted Cruz much worse” for the comments he made about McConnell’s being a liar. That is just patently false. Cruz was never told to sit down and shut up. Cruz was never voted off the floor by his colleagues and to suggest that he was “treated much worse than Warren” is irresponsible, false and incendiary (and maybe someday we can talk about how right leaning news outlets feel the need to lie in order to maintain their narrative that the left are a bunch of nazi hypocrites who are also, somehow, hippies and whiners and cucks and stupid and elitist all at the same time but that conversation is for another day). Even if one scrolls down to the comment section on the C-SPAN video of Warren’s hour-long speech “impugning” Senator Sessions the majority of the comments are about how Warren is a mouthy bitch who needs to be put in her place. This despicable rhetoric is just being reinforced by those in the Senate and in the current White House who are more concerned with protecting the speech of Neo Nazis, white supremacist, anti-feminists and basically just racists and xenophobes of every stripe than it is concerned with hearing facts and history recited back to them by a well-respected sitting Senator.

My point, and I do have one, is to ask my Senate why it is okay for a man to call his fellow Senators names (idiot, cancerous, liar, bitter, devious, vulgar, disgrace etc.) but when a woman dips her toe into that territory she is immediately voted off the floor and told to “take her seat”? Did she not earn her Senate seat in the same manner as her male colleagues? Did she not work as hard or spend as much money (because honestly) to get where she is today? How can you say out of one side of your mouth that you “cannot understand why women think they need to march” while simultaneously exploiting your station to keep a woman silent? Do you not see what you’re doing? If not, let me assure you that we see what you’re doing and we’re not going to forget it….you useless, wrinkled, old, limp-dicked, fascists! (I threw in that last part for any Republicans reading this post [HA!] or anyone who wants to tell to “go high” because fuck that!)

And here is a link where you can buy your very own “Nevertheless She Persisted” T-shirt and a portion of the proceeds will go to Planned Parenthood! 

MAKE AMERICA PIE AGAIN!!!!

Because by god, don’t we fucking need something we can all agree on at this point??!!?!?!?!?!

“This is America, you live in it, you let it happen. Let it unfurl.”- The Crying of Lot 49

Look, I know, I really do know. I am really feeling it today. Particularly because I am a person who has a vagina. What happened last night has me even questioning whether women are people (and I know this sounds completely dramatic and ridiculous to some and to those I would point you to this very interesting article written about a month ago on Salon called “Are Women People”), when a man, simply because he is a man, can be elected to one of the most powerful and influential offices in the world despite his complete lack of experience, lack of qualifications, lack of any real solutions to any of the issues facing America or the world, lack of basic human decency in dealing with his fellow man, and lack of tact, grace, humility or warmth.

I know that his being a man was not the beginning and end of his appeal for those that voted for him. I also understand that Hillary’s appeal was…well, virtually nonexistent. Only the most die-hard Hillary supporters were able to look past the fact that she absolutely represented the Washington Old Guard and the worst of what old fashioned political double-dealing and backdoor politicking will get you. But she was, at the very least qualified. Very well qualified in fact which is why it is so maddening that she lost to a bellowing fucking spray-tanned clown in an ill-fitting suit and a red power tie with absolutely NO political experience. Politics and prostitution are the only two professions I can think of where your complete lack of experience could be considered a selling point regarding your ability to do the job. It’s completely insane. But I digress…I am not here to talk about campaigns or candidates or victory margins or the “white working class” or how or why this happened (okay, I might talk about that a little bit). I just want to talk about how it made me feel as a woman, as a feminist, as a mom and a person and what I am going to do about it!

It made me feel like no one will ever truly consider women to be equal to men. It made me feel voiceless and powerless, scared and small, sick and helpless. I am disgusted and so ashamed that this, this MAN will be the outward face of our country for the next four years. This man who judges and sexualizes women. This man who has tried to make so many of us feel so small for so long is now our “leader”. This man who is the literal and proverbial face of white nationalism and who has frothed up an Alt Right and white nationalist movement engaged solely by the fear of growing racial diversity in our country (oh, and maybe by the election of our nation’s first black president….that might have something to do with it too). Fear is incredibly potent and last night saw a record number of white males (and this is a statistical truth, not just my own brainwashed libtard assumptions) turn out to the polls to cast a vote for Trump. But for what were they really casting a vote?

They were voting with their fear, their fear that their white majority will disappear (it will, that’s just simple mathematics), their fear that their guns will be taken away (America, that’s never going to happen, we are going to be allowed to keep shooting each other to death until time runs out), fear that the “progressive agendas” were moving too far too fast (we are all going to be forced to attend HUGE gay, muslim weddings officiated by Germaine Greer and Grace Jones wherein all the bridesmaids are Ru Paul and John Leguizamo’s character from “To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar”, all the guests are Syrian refugees, and the fucking cake is made out of kale or some shit…actually that sounds like one hell of a party…except for the kale cake. Can we, as a species just admit that no one really “loves” kale? It’s fucking terrible, okay!), and as we all know nothing motivates like fear (think “why America invaded Iraq”).

A lot of people are not ready for the America that will inevitably exist. The fight is hard, the setbacks are terrifying and it is every goddamn day but eventually THAT America will exist, the one where sexism is meaningfully and universally eschewed, the one where the lives of all human beings, no matter their age, religion, skin-tone, gender, sexuality, or ethnicity, are valued equally in the eyes of the law and our equality will be sacrosanct! The America where everyone will work to preserve a brighter, cleaner, more civil and more understanding future for the generations that follow us will absolutely exist! It’s just going to take a lot more time than we want it to….than we think we have, than we think we can bear but bear it we will because, Goddamnit, WE ARE AMERICANS! We do not stop fighting for what is good and what is just and what is right just because it’s hard or even because at times it seems impossible! It is when we are faced with what seem like insurmountable odds that we are forced to do our best work and I have no doubt that this country will, in fact be great, and it will have nothing to do with keeping it white, or keeping it insular, or keeping certain people out and other people silent! It will be because we will all rise up to include and value ALL voices and ALL faces because true democracy is about action and inclusion of EVERY person, not just the “right” people!

And it is for that vision that I am formally declaring my candidacy for President of the United States of America in 2020. I said back in March that when I fun for President my campaign slogan was going to be “Make America Pie Again” and, unlike some other filp-floppers, I absolutely stand by this statement! I will make America pie again! And since last night’s election proved to us that Americans are perfectly willing to vote someone with absolutely no political experience into the highest office in the land I think I’ve got a damn good shot at this thing! My platform is simple; I am running for basic human decency, basic human rights (food, shelter, medical care, all protections of all the laws, freedom of speech and expression, freedom from oppression and bigotry, freedom to practice whatever bullshit religion you feel most aligns with your personal ideals, but most of all your basic and inalienable right to eat motherfucking pie) for ALL, NO MATTER WHAT, AND THE RIGHT TO MOTHERFUCKING PIE! I stand for freedom, and pie, simple as that! If we cannot put a pie in every pot (chicken pot pie, perhaps?) then and only then can we truly say we have failed as a nation!!!!

Feel free and even encouraged to download the Bibliodiva For President “Make America Pie Again” bumper sticker jpeg below and share it on all your social media platforms. If you are truly committed to the cause of equal rights, equal pay and equal pie for all and want to display your pie pride outside of the internet, click on the link below and it will take you to a magical place where you can purchase your very own Bibliodiva For President “Make America Pie Again” bumper sticker that will totally exist in real life and not just on the internet! May we all eat pie and may god have mercy on our souls!!! BIBLIODIVA FOR PRESIDENT!!!!!

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Buy your Bibliodiva for President “Make America Pie Again!” bumper stickers & t-shirts HERE! 

Also, (drink) I did not edit this so there are probably a lot of typos but if you feel the need to point them out to me, well, you are just a fucking monster!

Also, also, just so you know how absolutely seriously I am taking this platform, here is a picture of my desk as I sit here writing this…

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Yup, that’s Pie! 

 

The Power of Positive Drinking*

*Originally Published as “I am an Achiever” which was a thinly veiled Big Lebowski reference

ACTUALLY I wrote this over a ago and it was first published on May 17th, 2015. I did, however, add some things to the list so there are a few new/updated bits! Enjoy!

I wrote this a few weeks ago and read it at the live reading we did at the beginning of the month, but even if you came to the reading there are some extra goodies at the end of the post. Thanks for reading and I love you guys!!!

I took my son to the park the other day and, granted it was a mild Sunday afternoon of which we do not get many in April in the great Pacific Northwest, I saw 5 pregnant women there…5!!! Oh wait, it gets even more interesting from a sociological and anthropological stand-point (said no one ever…except for maybe Oliver Sacks)! Of all the pregnant women every single one was there with their already existing child/children. And of all of the families at the park that day the pregnant moms were making up nearly half of the moms! Now, I am fully aware that it is rutting season and we are coming out of winter wherein the humans hunker down and procreate, mainly to stay warm and have an excuse to shave, but this just seemed excessive to me. As I watched the the gravid parade of moms waddling slowly from one end of the playground to the other chasing after their rapidly swelling broods, I realized that two of the five already had four children to their names!!!! That means each of those two women were currently gestating a fifth child!!!!

I can’t be the only one who becomes immediately suspicious of anyone who voluntarily has, just an unreasonable shit ton of kids, right (I say voluntarily because I am just assuming that since I saw these ladies at the park neither of them has been chained up in a basement being forcibly and repeatedly impregnated by their captors, but stranger things have happened, GO CLEVELAND)? I mean there are only a few reasons why anyone has that many kids; 1) to repopulate the planet with ready-made, home-schooled evangelical cult members 2) their religious beliefs prohibit the use of birth control (see also reason 1) and 3) sheer stupidity (see also reasons 1 and 2). All this reproduction just seemed excessive to me. I mean these ladies were clearly trying to compensate for something because they were totally overachieving in the baby-making department; they were reproductive overachievers!!!

In the face of all this extravagantly superfluous and even a little show-offy propagation of the human species I started to feel a little bit like a reproductive underachiever with my one measly kid. I will allow that I do have a pretty top notch baby (yes, I realize that he is four and no longer a baby but he will ALWAYS be my baby so shut up about it, okay!), with whom I am desperately in love. But every now and then, as I imagine all mothers do, I get sort of nostalgic for the days when he was a tiny little thing who smelled amazing and never ran away from me in the parking lot of Target. Then I quickly remember what it was like breastfeeding or staying up all night or cleaning feces off his neck and I am quickly ripped out of the land of newborn nostalgia and firmly back on earth where the worst of our problems consist of the DVR always missing the last two minutes of “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” no matter how many times I try to record it from Sprout.

Besides I may be a reproductive underachiever but there are plenty of things at which I totally overachieve! Here is a bulleted list of those things in no particular order:

  • examining my pores in the mirror for hours at a time (okay, half hours at a time, but still)
  • anxiety
  • turning anxiety into chin acne
  • binge watching “Daredevil” on Neflix (and can I just say I’m on episode 10 already and he still doesn’t have a goddamn costume! WTF)
  • oral (full stop) hygiene
  • finding spare change in the car seats while waiting in line at the drive-through for a Blizzard
  • eating an entire pound of grapes in one sitting
  • WINE!
  • sleeping in until 10 o’clock
  • eyeliner
  • plucking my chin hairs
  • angrily screaming “SUCK MY DICK!” at street harassers
  • makeup in general
  • thrift store shopping
  • cussing people out while driving
  • Simpson’s trivia
  • being continually blown away by the size of my son’s poop
  • Boggle
  • neuroses
  • remembering all the names of the characters from the “Transformers” cartoons
  • “Big Lebowski” quotes
  • moping
  • always having a corkscrew
  • laughing at my own jokes
  • stick shift (also not a dirty metaphor)
  • getting kicked in the tits while trying to put shoes on a shrieking four year old
  • scalloped potatoes (I seriously make awesome scalloped potatoes)
  • sarcasm
  • inevitably being that person in the crowded bar who is saying something embarrassing or wildly inappropriate when the music suddenly dies down
  • forgetting to put tampons in my purse
  • scheme hatchery
  • “forgetting” to pay for the items I put on the bottom of the cart (and this is just a karmic reach-around to which I am not looking forward)
  • whiskey
  • insomnia
  • always picking the line at the grocery store that will take the longest no matter how few people are in front of you.
  • reciting the plots of all the episodes of “Ultimate Spiderman” when called upon to explain what the fuck my son is talking about and why he is trying to lock you into some sort of mental combat wherein he is the “Grandmaster” and you are the “Collector” and you each have to pick a team of heroes or villains to battle for the fate of New York City,  and how you should ALWAYS pick Kraven the Hunter because Kraven the Hunter is tits, but I mean, c’mon people, this is day one shit.

I could go on, but I don’t want to toot my own horn. But you see, there are plenty of things I do well, in addition to making fabulous, if not a little free with the nudity, babies! These are the things I have to tell myself in order to sleep at night when wading through the long list of all my inadequacies…also, whiskey helps a lot with that too.

P.S. Yes, I am perfectly aware that there are people with tons of kids who are NOT actually religious fanatics….as I had to point out to a friend of mine who busted my balls the first time this was published. But if I never blew anything out of proportion, never made broad, sweeping generalizations, and avoided hyperbole and sarcasm at all times, this probably wouldn’t be a very fun blog to read, now would it? So you can refrain from emailing me to tell me about all the perfectly normal atheists you know who just happen to have 7 kids because I already know that this is a thing that happens in real life, thank you. XOXO

“Wait, I’m Confused…”

or the accidental mantra of young women in the workplace

I don’t make it a secret that the job that I have now is the first “real job” I have ever had. Before now I had never worked in an office before and there are some things I have noticed that are….different. I work in a creative profession and in an office that is largely made up of women, albeit women who are, for the most part, quite a bit younger than I am. And I have to say, I am beginning to notice something. One phrase in particular that these young ladies are very comfortable with, a phrase that, when I hear it, grates on my nerves: “Wait…I’m confused?” You will notice that phrase has a question mark at the end of it as it is typically delivered as such, rising up, in tone at the end to drive home the point of the deliverer’s confusion.

These are smart, professional, capable young women. Why do they DO THIS? Is it a hold-over from their college days when the only way to get their sexist, male professors to pay attention to them was to play at being the overwhelmed ingenue? If so, it’s time to drop the act…if for no other reason than it is making my physically ill! Also, can we all just agree that the imagined scenario I just presented is an actual thing that happens every day in this country in the twenty-first goddamn century and if we are not all working toward a better tomorrow for young women we should probably just be taken out back behind the chemical sheds and shot? Good! Great! Grand! Wonderful! NO YELLING ON THE BUS!!!!

I’ll allow that in our particular line of work we are often presented with a lot of information, sometimes from various sources with varying ideas about what the end results should be and it can be….confusing. But here’s what I propose. Instead of standing around throwing our tiny woman hands up and declaring how utterly baffled we are, how about we demand clarification, in no uncertain terms. When someone sends me a folder full of what vaguely resembles a pile of loose dog shit and expects me to make magic out of it they will undoubtedly be hearing from me in a matter of minutes. I will demand that they (whomever THEY might be) do a better job of explaining their needs and their requirements. What I will not do is passively declare that I am “confused” and then wait for someone else to ask the hard questions.

I believe that being able to admit or speak aloud when you don’t understand something is an incredibly valuable way to learn but the thing about the “Wait…I’m confused” that I hear so often is that it is presented without follow-up questions. It is presented as a passive bowing out and not an active attempt to gain a more information and a more firm grasp of the situation. Ladies, I beg you to use your confusion to gain more knowledge! Don’t let it stop you in your tracks! Plow forward and let your ignorance lead you to enlightenment. If you are not finishing that thought then you are going to be just as confused the next time you are presented with the same situation. And wouldn’t you rather not be confused? Wouldn’t you rather be the go-to gal? The person who everyone else can count on to know your shit and do your job? I know I would.

I’m not really asking a lot. I am just asking that when we are presented with a confusing situation we should use that moment to learn, the gain the skills and knowledge so that we encounter fewer confusing moments in the future. That’s all. Just ask questions.

The other day two girls in my office, both of whom, while much younger than I, collectively have been doing this job professionally for significantly longer than I have, were hemming and hawing over a problem, just on the other side of my cube fortress, that had both of them declaring their confusing; Girl #1 “I don’t know, I’m confused…” she trailed off. Girl #2 “So confusing…..”. Finally I could not take it anymore. I thought briefly about whether or not I had ever heard one of the men in our office say these words and when I was absolutely positive that, not only, had that never EVER happened, it probably never would happen! I got up, poked my head over the fortress wall and said, “What’s up ladies?”

They presented me with their quandary, for which I had already come up with a solution because I had been sitting there eavesdropping for the last three minutes because I am an asshole and a busybody. I provided them the solution and then suggested that if that happens again they should immediately address it with the (name the person above the person who was handling that project because talking to people’s bosses usually gets their attention…and their head out of their ass). They agreed with me about the course of action which they totally both could have come up with on their own, and might have but for their default confusion mode.

I guess what I am trying to say is that there is no need to be confused…not for longer than 20 seconds or so. Just ask questions, acquire information, gain knowledge, kick ass, grow, learn, kick more ass, become a samurai, kick even more ass still and basically rule the goddamn world!!! Because there is absolutely no reason that you can’t!!!! XOXO

Dear Santa, THESE!!!

So, a few weeks back I was at Target, in the toy section because I have a 5 year old boy and taking him to Target to look at toys is basically what we do for entertainment and a lot cheaper than taking him to the zoo or Tutta Bella or the bookstore…until we start buying things, that is. Even then, we can usually get out of Target for under $30.00 (in toys anyway) and when’s the last time anyone could say that about the zoo. In any case I was wandering the toy aisles when I stopped at an end-cap display and was nearly…okay, actually moved to tears by what I saw!

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This is not the actual display I saw but nearly identical. I was too busy weeping to snap a pic.

That’s right folks! It was an entire line of DC Superhero (yeah, we’ll talk about how we are using that term loosely when applying it to characters like Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy) dolls, costumes, toy weapons and play sets featuring all female comic book characters!!!! Where was this when I was a child (granted I did have my She-ra, Princess of Power doll) …or even like 5 years ago because I would have been all over this shit! I wanted to buy every single one of them, skip all the way home, gleefully tear open their packages and spend hours playing with them, imagining and acting out all the scenarios in which they would kick ass, rescue Batman, Robin and Superman, I would swap their clothes, beat up the bad guys with their weapons, and find them each the perfect Breyer Horse on which to off ride into the sunset…but I did not do that. Not only did I get rid of my Breyer Horse collection like 15 years ago but I am an adult (or at least attempting to masquerade as one) and when adults spend $150.00 on dolls their spouses are usually not pleased and even less pleased when you spend hours on the floor playing with the aforementioned dolls that were formerly the money that was going to pay the car payment when you are supposed to making dinner or doing your taxes or replacing the car tabs or whatever bullshit adult task you were avoiding while you were playing with your AWESOME NEW DOLLS!!!dolls

Fuck being an adult…who never gets to play with dolls! And no, playing with my son’s action figures, while they are totally awesome and fun, does NOT count. Plus, having to share things with him is a total fucking bummer. He commandeers all my favorite stuffies too! The nerve of that kid….I swear!

Perhaps the most encouraging thing about the display, that I noticed through my tears, was that it was not in the “Girl” section. I wasn’t even near the “Girl” section whose pink you can practically feel radiating off it when you walk by. It was an end-cap display right off the aisle where you find the seasonal and outdoor toys and the last aisle of what would be considered “Boy” toys that housed a bunch of Star Wars toys, Transformers, and some Batman V. Superman movie themed toys. It was just there, waiting to be noticed. And it was noticed. While I stood there, once again, crying in the middle of Target I saw two other moms come up to the display and snap pictures. One of them even turned to me, with a look of understanding that basically said she wanted to come stand next to me and shake her angry, white fist at the patriarchy while singing Helen Reddy songs. We totally shared a moment.

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The other really encouraging thing about the display is that when I went back to Target, like a week and half later, they were nearly all gone! The display was practically empty! I even checked the “Girl” aisle in case they were moving them or something….not because I was totally going to buy myself Poison Ivy or Batgirl and/or maybe Harley Quinn, I was definitely NOT going to do that with part of the grocery money, because that would be totally irresponsible! The only doll left was Bumblebee, 3 lonely Bumblebees, just hanging out, waiting to inspire some young woman to greatness! And no, I don’t think the reason only Bumblebee was left has anything to do with the color of her skin (although it could be that I am just choosing to be willfully ignorant in this particular case because I am already too bummed from not getting a doll to think about the systemic and endemic racism in our country and would rather just put this whole experience in the feminist win column). I think it has more to do with the fact that Doom Patrol and Teen Titans just weren’t that popular and Bumblebee has never has her own series of books….until, of course, the introduction of the DC Superhero Girls at New York City Comic Con last October!

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Now, all these cool chicks have their own books, web series, app, games, dolls, action figures (yes, there is a difference) and are basically taking the world by storm! This almost makes up for DC Comics saying, back in 2011, that “no one would watch a Wonder Woman movie”. And sadly, if they still let Zack Snyder direct it, they’ll probably be right. But alas, Zack Snyder can’t hit the mark every time….it’s not like Christopher Nolan or something, but I digress…no, I really do…because usually after saying that people keep on talking. I’m not going to do that. Okay?

Alright, I lied. I am going to keep talking about how badly I want one of these dolls and how they are much cooler than DC and Mattel’s previous pairing back in 2008.

not sure

While there’s nothing really wrong with these DC Barbies, other than the fact that they are Barbies, they seem like more collector’s items to me than something that would inspire adventurous and imaginative play for young girls. Don’t get me wrong. If I saw these on the shelf at Target today I would totally buy every last one (because how HOT is Black Canary over there?) but I would take them home, take them out of their boxes and then put them up on the shelf in my office (which at this point is imaginary…both the shelf and the office…because my “office” is just a room full of boxes that I have been too lazy to unpack for 6 months) and look at them, because they are cool and pretty to look at but not much good for anything beyond that.

I think we should all try to inspire young women to be more and do more and if seeing someone like Harley Quinn (who I guess now gets a “Superhero” pass because of Suicide Squad) who is mentally and emotionally unstable and in an abusive relationship with a criminally insane thug get her own doll, well, then I think that means any of us can do anything she wants!!! Yay for Democracy! But, sincerely, thanks to DC and Mattel for putting out these dolls, books, games and videos; they’re just really, really cool!

And thank you guys for hanging out with me, you mean the world to me! XOXO

 

The Trump Blog All 5 of You Have Been Waiting For

So there’s this election coming up and while in my real life I am anything but A-political when I am here, sitting in my awesome blogging throne* from which I do all my totally awesome blogging I tend to keep politics as an aside although I am relatively certain that most people can guess which way I lean. It’s not that I don’t have strong opinions or even that I have nothing to say on the political matters that are important to me, it’s just that I prefer that if people are going to hate me, it be for good reasons like I got drunk and pooped on your front porch and then videotaped your stepping in it the next morning when you left the house….hypothetically, or because I called you cuntrag in front of your small child because you cut in line at the zoo, or I ate the last of the Cocoa Krispies and left the empty box in the cupboard so that you thought there were actually Cocoa Krispies left so you totally got your hopes up for some delicious Cocoa Krispies but when you felt how light the box was your hopes, while diminished, were not completely crushed until you upended the box over your bowl and were met with only a feeble sprinkling of Cocoa Krispy dust. Frankly I cannot think of better reason to hate someone than that last one. Except maybe if they were a psychotic, racist, sexist, violent, misogynistic, bloated, homophobic, orange, narcissistic, delusion, mono-maniacal, smarmy, creepy, lying, repugnant, xenophobic, greasy, vomit-swelling, little fuckstain of a shriveled up oompa loompa, that might also be a good reason to hate someone. But, alas, hate only breeds more hate, just like anything else that powerful…like love, for instance. So let’s maybe not talk about why we “hate” that oompa loompa and talk about why he’s such an incapable, dangerous, and downright idiotic choice for a leader.

Of course I’m talking about Donald Trump and just like John Oliver said, I am kind of loathe to even write out his name because I am positive he has a tiny orgasm every time it is written…..or spoken….or read, not even aloud, just in your head, but he still knows because he once made a wish with a genie from a magic lamp and now he can sense it whenever bile rises in someone’s throat after simply hearing his name or seeing his picture.

 

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It seems like an oddly impractical thing to wish for if you ask me, but let’s be honest people, we are not dealing with a Rhodes Scholar here. Sometimes, after the Donald feels the need to reassure the American public that there are “no problems” with his dick (I find this highly doubtful coming from a man who repeatedly and in earnest talked about wanting to bang his own daughter), when I am done throwing up, I try to figure out if this is actually happening, like for real, actually happening. It’s kind of like watching Trapped in the ClosetR. Kelly’s much beloved/maligned “hip hopera” that is still puzzling stoned people everywhere as to whether or not its creator was entirely serious in the making of what the writer, producer, director and actor of the “films” would call his masterwork.

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Have I mentioned that in R. Kelly’s Trapped in the Closet he is legit trapped in a literal closet?

There is simply no way to watch Trapped in the Closet and not think to yourself, “NO FUCKING WAY THEY ARE TAKING THIS SHIT SERIOUSLY!” And that sentiment is pretty much echoed whenever I hear about the next, ridiculous, offensive, stupid and/or (usually and) appalling thing the Trump campaign has done. I can just imagine the Donald sitting around the frat house with his other white, be-polo-ed frat buddies (only because that’s where I assume he lives), high-fiving one another, drinking their way through case after case of unsold Trump brand vodka (which was absolutely a thing….just not a thing anyone wanted), and trying to think of the next absurd thing that Trump is going to say or do that will inevitably get him more headlines, more recognition and possibly, more votes.

“Dude! You know what you should totally do tomorrow, bro? You should totally talk about murdering innocent women and children. Betcha no one will call you out on it!” *shouts of bro-ly agreement* *high fives all around*

“BRO! Then you should totally talk about how big your dick is at the debates! That would totally fuckin’ crush it!” *smashes empty beer can into forehead, swigs Trump brand vodka, casually rapes coed while high-fiving his bros, posts it all the Twitter*

“Fuck yeah! You should threaten to walk out onto 5th Avenue in downtown NYC and shoot someone! Fuckin’ EPIC, Bro!” *Tweets about how he’s gonna retweet the tweet that Trump will tweet after he is forced to go on Twitter and defend his saying that he could shoot someone and no one would care…oddly enough, no one cares*

The Trump candidacy has been the most collectively head-scratching theater that the American public has ever seen. I mean this guy has Andy Kaufman beat by a country mile…unless he’s actually serious….OH GOD! You don’t think he’s actually serious about this, do you? I mean, if he is actually serious about his campaign, which, of course, is a possibility, he might be some kind of publicity savant and he genuinely and truly thinks that the hardest part of being President of the United States is getting elected….while simultaneously proving himself wrong at every turn! GENIUS!

But in reality I don’t think Trump has given much, if any, thought to what would happen after getting elected. I honestly don’t think he thinks things out much at all; what he’s going to say, how he’s going to “run a business (into the ground?)”, how or where his money is spent, what bullshit thing/building/failed casino/piece of steak he puts his name on, or to whom he might be liable if elected. I think the most dangerous thing about Trump is that Trump only cares about Trump. He is not interested in the welfare of the American People at all. The only reason he is even running for President is because it was the biggest popularity contest he could get himself into and he NEEDS validation, adulation and attention like normal, non-psychotic, non-narcissistic people need air or water. And let me tell you one thing, the leaders that are only in it for themselves and to further their personal agendas, their own need for power, worship, veneration, awe, devotion, glorification, praise, flattery, blandishments…those are the men (and I say “men” because I fucking mean MEN) who are truly dangerous because at the end of the day they are only beholden to their own emptiness at NOT having those things. And like a toddler, he will resort to any means necessary to get them. Unlike a toddler instead of throwing a tantrum, the leader of the free world can just decide to send a nuclear missile strike to….*throws dart at globe, comes up with country I cannot pronounce, picks France instead because I totally bet the Donald hates France for no reason at all*….FRANCE!

Trump may or may not be a psychopath (my money is on the former) but he is definitely dangerous. He is definitely not a leader. I wouldn’t let Trump lead a goddamn girl scout troop…mostly because he would try to sleep with all the girls and when they refused he would call them “cows” or “lesbians” and threaten to sue them and then he would rename all the cookies “Trump-mints” and “Trump-moas” and “Trumpalongs” or “Shortbread Tre-ump-foils” and then he would convince the girls that are just commodities and that if they wanted to achieve anything in life they’d better do it in a 24 karat gold-flake Trump brand string bikini while stripping in Atlantic City because that is the only way those stupid cows are going to find a rich husband, but it may already be too late for Trisha because she’s going to be 14 in a month an a half and the only thing you little bitches really have to offer a “successful” man is your youth and beauty. And don’t you forget it….MAKE ‘MERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Also, globe darts is the best sport I have ever just invented! XOXO

*”blogging throne” may or may not refer to any chair, bed, toilet, yurt, park bench (where I was totally NOT sleeping), carpet, patch of mostly dry grass, blankie, tuffet or really any flat surface available for sitting within reach of the writer.

P.S. I decided that when I run for president (because that is what wildly under-qualified lunatics are doing these days) my campaign slogan will be “Make America Pie Again” because who doesn’t love pie?!!!! BOOM! That’s at least 26 delegates right there! Also, I am suddenly feeling the need to make “Biblio Diva for President” T-shirts and bumperstickers. It’s gonna be a long night. XOXO yet again!

Let’s Be Friends*!

*no seriously!

So (drink) (and someday I will repost all the rules to the Biblio Diva drinking game so that those of you who are new to us, I’m talking to YOU Canadians, can play along at home because I have faith in you and your livers and their ability to withstand anything because they have already withstood decades worth of Tim Horton’s coffee, Molson, Justin Beiber and Nickleback) (Also, Dear Canadians, please stop telling your talentless musicians where the US border is, because we REALLY don’t need another Avril Lavigne or Celine Dion or Alanis Morisette. We already have a Kanye to deal with and he’s kind of a handful. Just point them in the other direction and they will all end up in the North Pole. Although if 3 Inches of Blood or Death From Above 1979 or DOA are asking you can give them directions…and I know you will because you are Canadian and, by nature, very polite and helpful. I feel like this is the most peaceful and humane solution for everyone) (and at this point I should just start over because even I have lost track of what’s going on with all these parentheses).

Starting over….So (you still have to drink), I super have NO friends, and I know what you’re thinking; “How is that possible?” you shriek, outraged. “You are so charming and erudite and generous and beautiful and intelligent and you know how to get free booze, like, anywhere you go and you are great at outrunning the police! Those are all tremendously attractive qualities in a human being!” except I can totally hear that you are saying it sarcastically, even if it is all true, so it kind of loses some impact…although the sentiment is appreciated even if you could not get through the delivery without laughing.

The fact is that when you COMPLETELY dismantle your life or it just falls apart in one way or another, whether by choice or by happenstance, it can make it difficult to keep people around. Not everyone is going to understand what’s going on, also, not everyone is going to care. It was easy for me at first to blame my lack of a social life on closing my bookstore or having to move far away from Renton, which was the admitted center of most of my social interactions, or never having any money (because unemployment often results in being poor). But I think it runs deeper than that. I think some people were really uncomfortable with the choices I made and it was easier for them to just fade away than to try to understand why I was making them. Now admittedly, whenever my life goes through sweeping changes it always seems to be more of a scorched earth kind of scenario than I ever intend when starting out. My chronic misbehavior is probably to blame for my instability but the thing is, I’ve always been this way. Y’all knew that when you first came along for the ride! But that’s the thing about people like me; people gravitate towards us because we are fun, irreverent, risky, a little scary, a lot crazy….and we know how to get free booze, like anywhere. We are very good at making friends but not very good at convincing them to stay.

That being said I am currently accepting applications for besties right now (I am sort of imagining people just losing their shit like when bitches find out that the episode of Oprah they are attending the taping of is the ‘favorite things’ episode)! And it’s crunch time, motherfuckers! I am getting married in 4 months (HOLY SHIT! FOUR FUCKING MONTHS!) and I need someone to stand up there with me and pretend to care about my getting married because, Goddamnit, I am already down one person who was supposed to walk me down the aisle. So, if you’re interested in being my Maid of (questionable) Honor read on.

  • You get to wear whatever you want. Within reason. No white. No blue seersucker because that’s what I’ll be wearing. No pants, it’s a wedding for godsakes! No florals, no feather boas, no tiaras, no fishnets (unless they’re like nude, then I support that move), no latex, no denim, NO corduroy, none of that 1990’s flouncy crushed velvet bullshit, in fact you can’t even come if you’re gonna wear that shit, I am already ashamed of knowing you.
  • You will literally be the only person up there with me so it’s impossible for you to be the “fat bridesmaid” because you will be the ONLY bridesmaid! Plus, I am pretty fat so there’s even a chance that you will be the “skinny bridesmaid”!
  • I won’t make you throw me any ridiculous parties because I have been to enough wedding showers to know that no one has any fun at them because who gives a fat shit about your monogrammed bath towels or your stupid fucking china pattern…let’s go get wasted and rip off a limousine! (It’s really a wonder that I have a dearth of compatible humans in my life…)
  • You must be female (sorry Sojin). While I am totally always in search of my new gay best friend (ISOGBF) I feel like my maid of honor should be an actual maid….not like a housekeeper….although if you are, that would certainly not rule you out….I am fine with whatever you do for a living…I am NO classist! I guess if you euthanized baby otters or worked on the Trump campaign for a living that might sour our potential relationship just a little.
  • Must tolerate or better yet celebrate excessive cussing, excessive drinking, excessive sarcasm, excessive laughing at my own jokes, excessive inappropriate exposure of my bare ass in public, excessive always being the person in the bar who is saying something REALLY offensive when the music dies down, excessive air concertina, excessive insistence that you “haven’t lived until you have woken up with vomit in your ears”, excessive talking of and enthusiasm for nearly all things related to Marvel or DC comics (this one’s really important), excessive squealing at pictures of baby miniature ponies,  excessive belief in Bigfoot, excessive excesses, unicorns, and children because I have one of those and it’s probably best that you learn to like him…or I will cut you.
  • Must be Catholic….not because I am Catholic or even religious but I figure if you’re Catholic you might have at least a fighting chance at keeping up with me where alcoholism is concerned. I will also consider Godless heathens of all stripes and lapsed Mormons because you guys totally kick ass to drink with!
  • You totally don’t have to make a toast or write a speech because you will probably have nothing to say about me because we will have just met and your cover will totally be blown if you get up there and start talking about what a good person I am because EVERYONE knows that’s not true.
  • I won’t make you pose for cheesy “bridesmaid” photos with your panties exposed because apparently that’s a thing. As a matter of fact I won’t make you pose for any photos, not because I don’t want pictures of you and our beautiful (and completely manufactured) friendship but because I am too poor to hire a photographer.
  • You must be my Bartlett. That is to say it is required that you will carry my flask and it will be your job to know and even anticipate when the dispensation of said flask is required.
  • Must be awesome at providing cover for someone who frequently feels the need to urinate in public, also, how are your holding-back-hair skills?
  • Must protect my secret identities.
  • Must already be able fit into the sidekick costume of your now deceased predecessor.

If this sounds like you, please submit your application to become best friends and eventual Maid of (dis)Honor in the comment section. And just so you know how serious I am about this, this whole post was supposed to be how I wanted to throw a Funko party where we all order a bunch of those blank Funko Pop characters and then decorate them, presumably while drinking wine and chatting and, with any luck, having a nice time.

Blank-Female-e-Male-DIY-Pop-Vinyl-Figure-01

So when I couldn’t think of anyone to invite (that might actually show up) to my imaginary Funko party that I may or may not have I started to get a little freaked out. That’s when I realized I have NO friends. If I can’t even get people to come decorate vinyl dolls with me even when I offer them free booze how can I expect anyone to want to be my Maid of Honor? How can I even consider asking someone at this point without feeling like a complete ass? The answer is I can’t….and I do. I am going to have to stand up there alone and I am going to have to be okay with it.

Maybe someday I will learn how to hang onto to people. Maybe someday I will learn how to be the kind of person worth hanging onto. For now….I hope I made you laugh. XOXO

Also, wouldn’t a Funko decorating party be super fun?! I would totally go to that even if I were (not a typo) the one throwing it!