Powderkeg Supernova Jolt To Your Ovaries

For my favorite babyman:

then that happened. Also, I lost my wallet today.

So...

We've adopted "nukulure" into our collective lexicon, I guess.

We'll just shove this in with "irregardless," and "conversate." Adults really are just large, powerful children, aren't they?

Dear Congresswoman Velazquez;

I am writing to you in earnest hope that you vote against a bailout of any kind. I will spare you personal anecdotes; I emphatically believe that my tax dollars should not be put towards saving any institution that is collapsing -- there is no reason why a business, company, or institution that is failing should be revived and kept on life support. Please permit these businesses to disappear and make way for new markets and new industry models.

I am angry and tired of ancient CEO's and their outmoded executive boards and antiquated, predatory business models devastating the market by siphoning our resources when their dated ministrations lead them to catastrophe. I cannot and will not have my tax dollars going to resuscitate them when our health program is in shambles and our education system churns out 18 year-olds with a sixth grade reading level.

We need socialized health care. We need an aggressive sexual health education program. We need a national public transportation system. We do not need to save failing financial institutions. Please apply my monies elsewhere.

Resolutely,
Heidi J. Hong

Never pull your punches, never pussyfoot.




NEVER LOWER YOUR EYES TO AN ENEMY.

The meme that everyone is doing:

1. Take a picture of yourself right now.
2. Don't change your clothes, don't fix your hair... just take a picture.
3. Post that picture with NO editing.
4. Post these instructions with your picture.



Hat tip to fraction 

I've been working (for no pay, so really, I've been volunteering) on a zombie movie. We've just started shooting this past Saturday and by the end of the day, I couldn't touch anything on set without smearing fake blood all over myself. We shot a scene where I run a zombie through the head with a metal skewer and fake blood spurts everywhere and he falls to the ground twitching and gurgling. We were running late before we even started so I spent my downtime sweating and shoveling bagels and cookies in my made-up lady face.

Three hours after we were supposed to be done, I was on a train, going deeper into Brooklyn for a pirate themed murder mystery party hosted by the executive producer (and his best girl) of the last project I was on. He mentioned that he had seen Captain S and I sheepishly tried to defend myself for the internet humor. Then his friend jumped in and, accusatorily, told me that he, too, had seen the first episode. Some justifying and apologizing followed. They were gracious enough to draw a distinction between real-people humor and internet humor. I thanked them and tried to change the subject. The executive producer, Alex, told me about a new show he was developing about the shared themes in religious cults and mid-scale restaurant management: he mentioned that it would be nice to get me in front of the camera. The party was a great success and I ate more: rosemary garlic potatoes, pineapple upside-down cake, salami, fresh cheese, mini spinach pies, homemade hummus, and plenty of alcohol. Shael and I are now developing our own 80's London underground punk themed murder mystery. I hope to play it very soon.

I've been rehearsing two to three times per week for an improv show that will open (and close) in a week and a half. I've also started table readings that will become rehearsals for the winter show of Aladdin: The Musical done in the style of British Pantomime.

I'm in moderate crisis as money is flowing out much faster than it's coming in and I'm not sure if I'll be able to pay the rent this month. Oh, and that reminds me: I have to sign a new lease.

 A great article on Hillary's dogged persistence, by Bob Cesca in the Huffington Post.

Hat tip to Deus Ex Malcontent.

I think mothers do a real disservice to their daughters by telling them how much they love them and how pretty they are in the same breath when, to a mom, it should not matter.

Chris is in my house with Shael and together, they're creating a manly, gassy chowder. I promised Erynn I would make sure that Chris would be safe and unharmed, well-fed and well taken care of while he's with us. I intend to make good on that. Last night's dinner included some chips. 

I was surprised to hear that Chris doesn't like guacamole but he was kind enought to humor me and try the guacamole I made. Then he ate some. And then he ate some more! It was very nice, even though I think he was indulging me.

Monday was spent mostly on the bus back from Camp Chad+Z in Willard, NY. The first thing Chad said to me when we got out of the car on Saturday was, "There are a lot of bugs. But the good news is they're not bitey." This was as gnats and shit swarmed us and flew into my eyehole, even though I was wearing glasses. But Chad was right! They weren't bitey. If they were, I would've surely been eaten alive. Except that Devon's girl jumped in and wailed, "No I'll be eaten alive!" I didn't know this was a contest, but she can have that prize if she wants it, cus I sure as hell don't.

Speaking of which, this weekend had the occasional occurrence of female-insecurity-induced-competition harshing my holiday mellow. After the reception, several of us girlies got together to dance raucously/poorly/drunkenly in the hall but it turned into a Look At Me time when my buddy's girl showed up. Chick was doing back bends and shit that happens on the daily in yoga classes everywhere. I was so weirded out by her aggressive display that I ran out. Didn't go back neither, nope nope.  At least we got in a good couple of hours. Some people just don't play well with others. Also, earlier she had given me a backhanded compliment about my dress, so I'm just going to attribute it to some chickens being ash and my being lotion and leave it at that. 

Melanie, Devon's girl, spent a lot of her time listing off things that she liked to us. I now know a lot about Melanie. Too much? At one point, she shouted, "I love caulk!" and I'm sure she's not as dumb as she sounds. So, again, leveraging one's gender for attention will earn you scorn. From me. Temporarily, at best. 

After the ceremony and reception, later that night, we had the second bonfire of the weekend. People got stoopid drunk and I thought to myself, "We'd better watch them around this fire here," but, instead, those people went and took a nekkid dip in the frigid lake! I was thinking the fire was the risk, but those sneaky drunks, they went straight for the water. A group of people disappeared to A.) jump in the lake and B.) make sure the drunks didn't drown in the lake. When they got back from their aquatic foray, I saw not one, but TWO pouty girlfriends sulking because their boyfriends had left them all alone with these scary people they declined to make friends with during the past two days for the exclusive company of their boyfriends. One of them was sobbing, I was told. If Shael had disappeared... well, he did and I did many times because we have friends and like to make new ones and aren't co-dependent in social situations. But if Shael disappeared, I would just assume he smelt sausages somewhere and that he would make his way back. Then I would get back to hanging out and having a good time and not being a total square.

In a You Had To Be There moment, we were supposed to hum the Wedding March for the bride, Z, but when we saw Chad coming down first, Rory started humming the Rebel Theme from Star Wars and all the kiddies joined in. The Old People, who were actually around when the original Star Wars movies hit theaters, had a good laugh. 

We had a good helping of Bret time, too. I wish we could've spent some more time with him, though. Ah, well. Now he knows that Melanie likes caulk, too, and it comforts me that I am not the only one who bears the burden of that knowledge.

 

I voted for Hillary. As I voted, and even before, I wanted Obama as my President. But I wanted my vote to go to whoever had the best chance of beating the Republican candidate.

My vote was, essentially, game theory in practice. I voted not with my conscience as if I were in a vacuum but with an expectation of the votes, and outcomes thereby, of everyone else. Although I don't regret having a strategy, I regret that it hadn't lead me to Obama. Anyhow, that leads me to Chez Pazienza, a man with a blog. I look to him sometimes for a little guidance when I think something in the public forum is not quite right, whether it be politics or pop culture, and sometimes when it's both, not because he is an excellent writer (whom he is), but because he's perceptive and judgmental and righteous. Deus Ex Malcontent. Read it. Don't waste it.

Shael asked me why I always act on my compulsions to call out people who've done wrong or call attention to things I believe are wrong. He asked if it was a powerful sense of justice.

I don't really know.

 

Roughly six weeks ago, my good friend and boyfriend's younger brother, Devon, went to the emergency room with intense stomach pains that ultimately resulted in emergency surgery. It was invasive and painful, but Devon has been making steady progress since. Post-surgery, there have been a couple of complications that are prolonging the recovery, and on top of that,  there's speculation that he may not have actually needed the surgery in the first place. Anyways, I hear Devon is doing much better and though he is upstate for the time being, he will be back in New York City soon.

I preface with this explanation because it's important to note that Devon was never denied care. 

A couple days after Devon had his surgery, one of his well-wishers began a fund raiser, with his approval, to raise money for his medical bills. It has collected over $4000.00 from friends and fans and people who have no idea who Devon is, they just wanted to first copy of a game/movie that is being auctioned with proceeds coincidentally going to Devon.

This whole thing, from the beginning, was irresponsible. Firstly, I know that some, if not many, of the people who donated were/are in need of that money themselves. Some of the people are jobless or barely scraping by, and I know $10 here and there isn't a lot, and maybe that person would've spent it on a greasy burger or stupid trinket anyways, but damn, if they didn't deserve to have that greasy burger or stupid trinket because, again, Devon was not denied care. Ever. There was never any danger of him not getting the medical attention he needed because he didn't have enough money. He was in an emergency room. The hospital is legally bound to give him the medical attention.

Secondly, yeah. Hi. Insurance. You've met Devon. Remember? I won't go into it because it's no one's damn business, but you guys are friends. Yeah, ok. Good.

Thirdly, under the "nobody's ever lovin' business" category, let's check Devon's financial situation. Unless I hear from Devon's own mouth that he will die without the surgery that he has no money for, then maybe no one should jump to conclusions.  Possibly; that could be something to think about. I know donations were made by people who thought that the "Devon will die because he has no money for the hospital" situation was the case so I hold them totally free of fault. It was an error in the fundraiser itself, not the donaters, that the circumstances were misrepresented. I'd like to point your attention to other fundraising type endeavors: please make note that these people are being denied care for some expensive experimental procedure/ drug or they have accrued insurmountable expenses are losing their home/car/other valuable utility.

Devon owns no home, he owns no car, and he is not waiting on an expensive experimental procedure or drug. As for his bills at the time the fundraiser was conceived ::coughcoughinsurance:: As far as I know, he doesn't even have credit to ruin.

At this time, because of the post-op complications, some errors, and unforseeable circumstances, the money is being used for medical bills by coincidence. I have know doubt that had these circumstances not arisen, the money would've gone to something noble, but the fact that at one point there was some debate as to how the money would be used is troubling. I'm reminded of this every time I go to Screwattack.com, MySpaces of friends, friend's LJ's, all the common virtual watering holes of the people I've come to know in the past couple of years.

I believe strongly that this was not all one or two people's fault. The fundraiser began as an idea that went through several tiers of approval, none of whom ever thought that the amount raised would be so high. I know it was hurriedly executed by someone who was trying to help and all the people who donated didn't ask questions and only did what they could for someone they cared about. And because Devon is wildly popular and thorougly loved by those close and afar, the fundraiser grew muscular, swift legs and ran. At the end of this black, blue, and pus-y rainbow is a pot of money that is helping our little guy out. But it almost wasn't. Please remember that.

 

gillan and xamsesCANNOT be thinner than me. I'm going to the goddamn gym. 

Once, when I was a wee lass -- helpless, warm, squishy, and securely anchored to my baby seat, my mom put me up on a table and hid below my line of sight. Then she popped up, exclaiming "YAH!" with a kabuki face and watched me start to cry. She thought this was so funny, she did this repeatedly until my grandmother found her and yelled at her.

This may or may not explain why I am how I am.

Years ago, she told me this story with mixed feelings: she felt fine about laughing once she saw that I was laughing. Anyways, this segues to the video: http://www.collegehumor.com/moogaloop/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=1767758&fullscreen=1

 Oops! I was wrong. I alienate people exactly as much as I thought I do.

Seriously, does every useful business have to be closed today? I see that none of the Asian owned stores are closed... but I need screws and hardware right now, not chips. Gah.

My arm still hurts. Is this normal? 

I believe a person is more than an assortment of qualities that are wholly autonomous from one another. I believe a person's history, character and resultant personality is more than a heap of buttons and string to be picked over and chosen from. I believe everything is connected. I believe to say, "I love So-and-so, except she hurts me sometimes," or "He's great, but he can be selfish," or even, "Once in a while, she has rage problems," reduces a person down to compartments like a KMart drawer organizer. I believe a person can be divided into good and bad parts as much as they can have their heart removed and be expected to survive. I believe saying "I love So-and-so, except she hurts me sometimes," or "He's great, but he can be selfish," or even, "Once in a while, she has rage problems," demonstrates more about the speaker than the subject.

Namely, that you are the speaker is a coward.

I believe a person with a shitty quality is like a machine with a faulty cog that affects the entity as a whole. I believe there are people with broken levers, blown circuits, balding tires, cracking seals, fried hard drives, missing bolts, and blind/deaf/dumb drivers at the wheel and each and every one of them has a crappy output. I believe it is neither my obligation nor to anyone's benefit to forgive any of these people their weaknesses. 

I believe a good person can still be a crappy person. I believe that I have no room in my heart or life for them.

I believe truth wears a long black dress and stands in the corner, head down, feet pigeon-toed. And I believe truth is the lonliest girl in the room.