A southern conundrum.

[southernconundrum-blog]

It’s time we talk about 1987, Adventures in Babysitting Vincent D’Onofrio.

I’m a lesbian. I was born in 1983. I did not see Adventures in Babysitting till about 91. By then I’d already discovered my sexuality via Mallory in Family Ties, Lisa Bonet in the ____ Show and of course Carla Gugino as the troubled but beautiful Chica Barnfell in Troop Beverly Hills.

I love a girl in uniform.

The lip bite before Kstew was a twinkle in her mother’s eye.

Split bangs = basically double the bangs. 

** honorable mention to Gabrielle Anwar for single handedly changing dyke fashion with this beanie/beret sitch**

These are not complicated matters. 

The early 90′s really kicked off what would become the genesis of a decades long Elisabeth Shue phase. She had already dazzled me in Karate Kid and for whatever reason my parents allowed me to watch Soapdish on repeat. So no one should’ve been surprised when I cleared my Sunday night plans to watch the ABC (super edited) family movie showing of Adventures in Babysitting. Whatever straight was left in me was gone by the end of the first scene. One of the most glorious in cinema history.

The feathered hair, the t-shirt dress, the 32 year-old jawline on a 16 year old. She was perfection. I was entranced. 

Scene after scene I fell deeper and deeper into a dark gay hole of feelings. 

Every time Elisabeth’s hair grew in circumference, so did the lady wood inside my gay heart. 

Everything was going according to god’s glorious plan until this happened...

Um. What. the. fuck. Where did he come from?? Is that the guy from Mystic PIzza? What is happening? Oh no...

I began to gay panic and gay grasp at all the montages of lovely ladies I had stored in my gay brain. They were whizzing past me, too quick to for my weak jello lady arms. If only I had Thor’s arms..wait no..what? No I don’t want that. I want sinewy Blair from Facts of Life arms. Blair wait... WAIT..

She slipped seamlessly into the void. Along with all the others. All the feathered hair, the bangs, the shoulder pads. All gone. Now all I could see was oily, milky white 80′s muscles (good enough), corn silk soft blonde wig hair that if we just put a hat on it we won’t have to worry if it looks real or not. Tight jeans and man bulge and WHAT WAS HAPPENING.

My body was changing. My heart confused. A young gay girl in crisis. I studied the image as much as I could without the ability to pause. Thank god we were taping it on the VCR. I could come back later I decided. I would have to. Wouldn’t I? WHO AM I NOW?

The chest hair. I didn’t want to touch it but I didn’t not want to touch it? The way he was an asshole about the $5. Was that a lot in 1987 or was he just a sexy asshole? How he gave into Sara so easily, so quickly. I actually almost hated him for it. How he’d allowed the child’s tears to dash out his brawny, sweaty man hatred. Why had he softened for her?? Or was it his true strength coming through. In the end, wasn’t it a better show of power and dominance to allow his city hardened but oily sick arms to reach out and show his vulnerability? Is he tall or does he just seem tall? He’s tall. 

A million tiny little thoughts running through my brain. Can’t pause the thoughts the goddamn technology hasn’t been invented!! Where do I go from here? Do I have a boyfriend now? AM I PREGNANT????

Luckily, this is the only appearance of sexy as fuck, slick armed, bulging Vincent D’Onofrio. I would get a solid 45 minute break from hormones starting with that horrific blues club scene where Elisabeth Shue proves no she cannot sing and kids are annoying as fuck.

But every so often I’d catch a glimpse of him. He was haunting me like a sexy bisexual ghost. I couldn’t escape the chest hair. The tank top. The pants hiked so high I could see his religion. I felt like a Civil War wife longing for the day my sweet Dawson would return. Would life ever be the same? Would I ever be the same? Could I? SHOULD I?

I was snapped out of my bi-sexual crisis by Elisabeth wielding a switch blade and commanding a train car full of West Side Story Reprise Rejects to never fuck with the babysitter. 

Whew. That was close. 

Years later, when I was in Jr. High, he’d cross my mind from time to time. I’d just smile and tilt my head towards the heavens, close my eyes and absorb the fleeting rays of light coming from his greasy biceps. Then when I opened them again, he was gone.  A shooting man star in my lesbian sky. I knew that while I appreciated him, I would never love him, not truly. And I would never know such confusion again....UNTIL... 

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[southernconundrum-blog]

An Open Letter to Ariana Grande and Her Pig

First of all, I love Ariana Grande. I think she is talented AS FUCK. She can sing, she can act, she’s hilarious, and she’s still real enough to make mistakes and own up to them, apologize and turn away from her social sin. I can’t get into the the bombings at her concert bc it is so fucked up, but she is a goddamn survivor and a queen. I love her.

Pete Davidson is funny. He is. @ me bitches. He’s super young and yet he has a very unique perspective and voice. I enjoy him. He’s YOUNG. They are both YOUNG. They both have zero money issues and all the time in the world. Give them a fucking break.

However.

I have a pig. I got my piggy when she was, we were told, 6 months. But really she was 3 months. This is a common practice with scams and mini pigs. But I did research. I did. Months of it. I wanted to be prepared and I thought I was. Here why I wasn’t. And here is why no matter how good I’ve been this animal may be suffering bc of me. So when a celebrity gets it in their head they want this type of animal it breaks my heart. Bc they have no idea what they’re doing. Here’s why:

1. They are social creatures. They need other pigs. NEED them. Dogs are not a substitute. Pigs are prey animals and natural enemies with dogs. Despite what Buzzfeed interspecies posts tell you, pigs and dogs can NEVER EVER BE ALONE TOGETHER. I don’t care how many times they’ve snuggled and cuddled. You can google horror stories about how dogs turn on pigs in an instant. They do not communicate the same way. It DOES NOT WORK. Get two pigs or get none. 

2. They imprint on their mom. If you take them away young enough it’ll be you. But keep in mind pigs stay with their parents FOREVER. So if a pig deems you mom, you’re mom. No boarding or pig sitter will ever live up. Getting a pig as a celebrity is INHUMANE. You will not have the time to spend with it. Pigs love routine. And if you travel more than 30 days out of the year, a pig is not for you. THEY ARE NOT DOGS. They cannot just be ok with any type of attention.

3. They require constant stimulation. If you have two pigs? Chances are they will stimulate each other. If you have one pig and some dogs, they will annoy each other and create aggression and distance. Pigs are highly intelligent. They cannot just be passed off to whomever.

4. Pigs are highly intelligent and emotional. They feel rejection and sadness. They can miss you. They can get angry and aggressive when they aren’t properly trained or taken care of. They can get out of control if their routine is interrupted. They are NOT LIKE DOGS. They do not adapt well and they cannot just love everyone who takes care of them. They will always want and depend on their mom.

5. They get huge. There’s NO SUCH THING AS A MINI PIG. They can be smaller as they are bred down. But my “mini” pig is 120lbs. They don’t stop growing till their 5 and bc they can’t regulate hunger...they will always eat. 

Pigs are adorable. I get it. I do. I used to carry Whidbey around in a purse. But now she’s been moved across the country twice, she has no friends and she’s sad. I know she is. I got her with my girlfriend that I thought I’d be with forever.  I tried to give her the best life and I failed. And I am not a celebrity that travels constantly. I’m always here. So in closing please do not do not under ANY circumstances get a pig. Don’t do it. I know they’re cute but they are NOT worth it. I love Whidbey to the moon and back and would do anything for her, including never buying her if I could go back. I’m not convinced she’s had the best life. Leave them on farms with their families. 

[southernconundrum-blog]

How to Be a Gay Liberal in the Deep South

My name is Julie. I’m a gay. And a liberal. And I live in a small town in south Alabama. It can be tough. For those of you who may struggle to understand what people are like here, I’d like to remind you Jeff Sessions is from here. Does that paint a picture for you? No?

Here’s a billboard in Alabama:

This guy was almost a Senator:

We’ve sort of been mostly on the wrong side of history here:

Like, really wrong:

If you grew up here and weren’t a straight, white dude, you probably noticed that some of these attitudes have lingered well into the 2000′s. When I was growing up here, it was considered bad form to be openly racist. But now that an old bottle of warm orange soda that’s been left unopened in the sun for years is in the white house, it can feel like we haven’t moved forward quite as much as we thought.

Since I’ve moved back to Alabama (racist, bigoted) from Seattle (liberal, literally everyone is some form of gay) and the orange one has ascended, it’s been pretty tough living here. But I’ve managed. And I think it’s my responsibility to pass what I’ve learned on to anyone else who is struggling. This list of tips is based on my time in Alabama, but they can easily be applied to any southern territory*

*Not Mississippi though. You need to get the fuck out of there.

1. Alcohol

You are going to need a lot of this and you will need it often. Is that the healthiest choice? No it isn’t. I think a healthier choice would be talk therapy and medication. Unfortunately Alabama  has been consistently at the bottom of the list for quality mental health care. Since we have shitty employment as well, finding a job that has health insurance that values mental health care is nearly impossible. And if you do have insurance, finding a qualified mental health care provider that isn’t a Trump loving, church-going, transphobic bigot that thinks all Muslims are terrorists, can be difficult. So get some booze, and lots of it, to help you self-medicate through this mosquito infested hellscape. Make sure you stock up though, most places don’t serve on Sunday. That’s the day the Lord set aside for trucks and guns.

2. A Southern Drag Queen (2 minimum)

This is essential. There isn’t ANYTHING in this entire state I would describe as even remotely fabulous. It gets dark real quick around here and when you have had your fill of massive rebel flags and people opening their truck door to spit baccy at red lights, a little sparkle and whimsy really goes a long way. There is nothing more comforting and inspiring than a southern drag queen. This is the land of pageants and prom queens and these bitches have been training for this moment since they saw their older sister completely blow her turns and fuck up her bevel in the Little Miss Rattlesnake pageant. It is their time bitch, and you have the privilege nay, the honor, to witness hundreds of years of southern mommas DRAGGING their little boys to see their cousin Tracy Lynn sashay her way to Little Miss Catfish, finally pay off. Even if you’re not particularly keen on drag shows (and why aren’t you, you fucking monster??) having these queens in your life will remind you that you don’t have it so bad. Honey, if they can make it so you can you.

Let me introduce you to Miss Ambrosia Starling. Just google her. How can you not love a queen named after a terrible southern dish and a fantastic southern rookie FBI agent??

3. A Pet

Doggies and kitties can’t be racist or bigots. Fox news is just bouncy lights and shapes to them (are they wrong?) and they love you even if you’re sad and drunk all the time. And trust me, you will be. 

4. A Hobby

Unless you want to go people watch at Walmart or snake spotting down by the river, you may want to find yourself something productive to do. Learn an instrument, or a new language (just don’t tell anyone because in America we speak English and if you live here you better learn English not the other way around). You could also volunteer. There’s always a pageant that needs opening number props made. There’s always a church trying to raise money for their “missionary trip” to heathen devil countries like Africa and other parts of Africa. You could start a mentoring program for under privileged children, because according to Rusty at the tire shop, those kids just need a daddy, but not him because it’s really none of his business, he’s just saying. Maybe if you see someone in need just throw them an encouraging word or a couple bucks. Not creepy Bubba outside the grocery outlet though, because he’ll just buy booze with it and God only helps those who help themselves. 

5. An Escape Plan

You should really figure out why you’re here in the first place. And if it’s really necessary for you to be here at all. Ever. If it isn’t, formulating a good solid escape plan can really alleviate those tough days when Sue from HR wants you to know she isn’t racist at all, she’s a Christian, but she thinks those kneeling blacks are very disrespectful to her America. 

While the south is unique and rich in history and stingy bugs, I don’t think any of us being here is going to make it any better. I truly don’t. They say if the educated and queer people keep leaving the south things can never change.I understand that and to that I would say.........

 BYEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

[southernconundrum-blog]

Making a Case for 13 Going on 30.

I can still remember my Wednesday evening History of Film class in Film school. (Yes I went to film school, we can still like cheesy rom-coms) And the night my professor, a former DP for Columbia during the “golden age of film” stood in front of the entire class and proclaimed we were about to view, what most experts call the greatest film of all time. You guessed it, Citizen Kane. 

He went on to explain that what made it so great was the technicality and the innovation of it. The first film to use flashback and continuous wide shots, blah blah. I thought it was a snooze fest of straight white male nonsense. Yeah technically it’s cool they did all that with cut and paste film. I respect that shit, I do. But Citizen Kane is one of the most un-relatable stories ever. At least to me as a gay woman. It’s like the Catcher in the Rye of film. I have a hard time identifying with rich white dudes who feel like they don’t belong in a world created for and by them. If anyone actually read this blog I bet I’d get ALL the haters up in here leaving me comments about how oppressed men are now. Do it. I masturbate with male tears.

ANYWAYS. Fuck Citizen Kane in it’s boring ass face. I’m here to talk about the greatest movie of all time. The movie that is best picture every year in my heart and soul always and the one movie by which every other movie is measured. 13 Going on Motherfucking 30.

Yes it’s entertaining. Yes it’s a feel good romish-com with a cute cast. Yes it has Judy Greer. But what makes it the best? I’ll break it down for you.

CAST:

We all know about JGar and MRuff, and before we get to Judy Greer, let’s talk about the supporting cast: 

Christa B Allen 

For you true Jgar fans you’ll note that this was not Christa’s only time playing a young Jen. She also does in Ghosts of Girlfriends Past (another one of my faves but more problematic). Christa’s got the looks and the chops. She’s not only a dead ringer for the younger Rink, she’s also actually a great actress. Here’s what she looks like now BTW.

Pretty fucking spot on from the casting director I’d say. So if Christa B. Allen was the homerun, Sean Marquette (young MRUFF) is the grand slam. 

Then and now:

Yeah that could be Mark Ruffalo in the early 2000′s. And Sean does a great job himself in the younger role. Moving on.

BRIE OSCAR WINNER CAPTAIN MARVEL LARSON

In a bit part with ONE freaking line. She nailed it by the way. That’s how extra this movie is. Oscar winners as basically extras.

FUN FACT THAT ONLY A PSYCHO WOULD KNOW:

When Jenna is looking at her yearbook with Matty years later, it flashes this picture of the Six Chicks:

Notice Jenna is now “practically their leader” and Brie Larson is nowhere to be found. Presumably she has already been kidnapped and is in ROOM. Too dark? Or too REAL.

ANDY FUCKING SERKIS

You can use IMDB to go through this guy’s laundry list of amazing credits. And don’t stop at Gollum in LOTR because he was basically just getting started in this bitch. He’s also an accomplished director. He plays Jenna and Lucy’s (tom-tom) boss and the editor of Poise magazine. He’s also gay bc representation in 2004 hella mattered.

KATHY BAKER (Jenna’s mom)

Where have you seen her? Bitch, everywhere. She has a staggering list of nominations and awards from film, tv and stage where she’s had a phenomenal career. My favorite roles are between that gem up there in Edward Scissorhands and the woman of many marriages in the Jane Austen Book Club. She’s a legend and she’s NOT EVEN THE STAR OF THIS FILM.

Marcia DeBonis (Jenna’s admin asst)

It’s easier to tell you what she HASN’T been in. Like Kathy Baker, she’s made a career out of small, scene stealing roles. She also has a pretty impressive career in casting. 

I’m not going do Jen and Mark because we all know all of their shit. I’m the biggest JGar fan on earth so don’t get me started, but they are obviously mega stars and I need to save some room for.......here it comes...it’s finally here...you know it was coming..and here WE. FUCKING. GO.

JUDITH THERESE EVANS GREER

If Judy BAD BITCH OF LIFE Greer is in a movie? I’m seeing it. Why? BC SHE’s in EVERY MOVIE. Judy Greer is a brilliant silky chameleon with ferrari engine precision comedic timing. I would say she ties with Melanie Lynksey for all time underrated actress in history, but I think she pushes just past her since her body of work is unbelievably large. She has done indie, rom-com, sci-fi blockbuster, you name it. She can and has done anything and everything and I love her with every sad and broken cell in my fangirl body. She doesn’t support scenes, she carries them. And the only reason you think someone else is the star is because Judy wants you to think that. There are like 2 people on this Earth I love as much as I love Judy Greer and they are basically my mom and Claire Danes. She is an angel we do not deserve sent to us straight from a place we can never know. I legitimately worry that not enough people know what a treeey zzzurrre we have in Judy. I will do whatever I can to always spread the Gospel of Greer in this flaming shit bag of a world. If you haven’t seen Addicted to Fresno, please excuse yourself from whatever meaningless nonsense you’re doing right now to go watch it. Thanks.

STORY

A perfect cast, and yes this is one, does not a good film make on it’s own (see all those shitty Gary Marshall vignette films). 

Lucky for us we also have a perfect story.  This film has everything: redemption, friendship, love, betrayal, materialism, capitalism, competition, fucking TIME TRAVEL. And a dance number to goddamn Thriller. 

This movie created the catch-phrase, “Fabuloso”, which would eventually become the best smelling cleaning product of all time. It brought back Razzles, no doubt saving that entire brand from bankruptcy. It has complicated parental relationships, complex female friendships, a pre-wedding love confession scene, an NYC fall photoshoot montage, an accidentally fall-down kiss scene, a popular high school guy now a balding loser scene, a heroine saves the magazine scene, and a Pat Benetar slumber party pillow fight. 

SETTING

NEW. MOTHERFUCKING. YORK. CITY. Is there any other place where a 30 year old can be the editor of a fashion magazine and live in an $8 million apartment???

SOUNDTRACK

I mean, you’ve got The Go-Go’s, Whitney Houston, Madonna, Billy Joel, Liz Phair, Rick Springfield, Talking Heads, Soft Cell, I COULD ON AND ON. 

CONCLUSION

I am a rom-com SLUT. I have seen all of them, but this one is the stand out. Instead of limiting Jenna to the “she falls in love and finally changes her life” trope, it explores ALL the reasons Jenna’s life went off track. Not just because she lost her best friend along the way, but because now she’s dishonest, disloyal, and though she has the trappings of the life she dreamed of, she isn’t the person she thought she would be. In fact, Matty is not even the main thread of all of it. 

The takeaway here is that being present is more important than worrying and wishing about the future.Which is actually some intense deep Buddhist shit. 

By living in the moment we’re in, we can shape our lives however we want. Jenna was so intent on creating her idea of a perfect life, that she missed what was right in front of her. When she got a glimpse of what she thought she wanted, she realized how empty it was. The money, the cool job, the $8 million apartment doesn’t mean shit when you don’t have any real connections to anyone. And is there any better moment then when she goes back to her closet birthday party, kisses Matty and slams Tom-Tom’s drink in her face and calls her a “Biatch”? NO. It’s the most satisfying moment in American cinema. 

TWO THINGS

1.This movie has 0 diversity and is 100% straight white people problems. I acknowledge it. It is problematic. I don’t know what to say. It was the time, I didn’t make the movie, and thank the lorde things are changing.

2.Lucy’s take on Poise re-branding was 100,000% better than that Abercrombie bullshit Jenna came up. Don’t @ me.

JUDY GREER 2020

[southernconundrum-blog]

Why Do You Have Antique Dolls in Your AirBnB?

Traveling is stressful. There are traffic delays, unforeseen hiccups, weather issues, and any and all manner of tiny annoyances that can add up very quickly. So it stands to reason that when you reach your destination, or any temporary lodging along the way, you seek and deserve a comfortable and calming space for your respite.  

I can think of nothing less comforting or calming than waking up in the middle of the night in a strange bed with a melted faced, colonial dressed, wide-eyed unblinking, definitely haunted antique doll staring at you from an old rocking chair. (Why are they are ALWAYS in a rocking chair??)

What possesses bed and breakfast owners to think that a large old creepy doll is exactly what this room needs? IS IT THE EVIL DEMON INSIDE THE DOLL THAT POSSESSES THEM? 

My best friend got married in Hot Springs, North Carolina. A small southern town in the Appalachian mountains with no wireless service of any kind, one tiny “convenient” store with irregular business hours, and no police force because “nothing ever really happens around here.”

Because the town decided to really explore all the nuanced facets of a real life nightmare, they had no hotels or lodging that weren’t 200 year old farmhouses. When I booked me and my girlfriend’s “room”, I jokingly asked the owner how haunted the house was and he no shit said “It’s a 200 year old farmhouse. It’s bound to be a little haunted.” It begs the question of the meaning of “a little haunted” in a town like Hot Springs that is so clearly at LEAST in the top ten running for a hell-mouth site. Like what’s the scale here? “A little haunted” in NYC means some things fall off the shelf sometimes. In Hot Springs it means the ghosts can drive you to the edge of madness but probably won’t kill you? 

As soon as we hit the town limit, my cell service went out. We wouldn’t get it back for two more days. Some people see this as a golden opportunity to disconnect from the constant stream of communication and information. Those people are serial killers and they have a real affinity for their victims to have no access to help. It’s kind of their thing. 

We pull up to the SECLUDED and massive, lightly haunted farmhouse. Chickens run around the car as if to welcome us to the ritual sacrifice they’re about to begin. If I were a flaky, naive optimist I’d probably find it charming. Instead I’m trying to find any weaknesses in the perimeter that would allow an easy escape from our inevitable serial killer chase. There aren’t any.  

As we approach the front door I see a large note taped to the outside with our names on it. It’s not written in blood, which is sort of reassuring. It informs us that the owners are actually down the road getting ready for the wedding dinner (our friend’s) and to make ourselves at home. We’re in room number 2. And no one else is staying there. Cool.

Now I’m not paranoid by nature, no no. I’m paranoid because of the constant barrage of stories, fact and fiction, of young women being brutally murdered by men who do things like leave fucking notes like this on haunted farmhouse doors in secluded murder towns, to lure you into some false sense of security. I’m not buying it. My girlfriend assures me everything is ok and I’m letting an overactive imagination ruin a perfectly lovely weekend. Yeah bitch, you’re the first to go. 

The farmhouse is exactly how you’d expect a nightmare to look. Our room is up on the second floor. 

Now because I’m not an idiot, and I know that taking pictures of ghosts is what attaches them to your clothes, these are all from total morons on the internet who no doubt have experienced only bad vibes since leaving this place. 

So we go to our room, and guess what’s in there? GUESS. A fucking antique doll in a fucking rocking chair. FACING the bed. Unflinching, un-remorseful and unapologetic about it’s presence and positioning that’s keeping you from boning/sleeping/ever being truly joyful again.

I was actually telling my mom this story a few years later and she casually says, “so just move the doll.” And my brother’s face went pale and without missing a beat, he yells at the top of his voice, “NEVER FUCKING TOUCH THE DOLL.” My brother gets it. And he remains un-haunted today because he knows the rules and he follows them without question.

It’s not enough that I’ve stepped into a horror movie script that would be rejected for being “too obvious”. But they’ve added the doll. And now I’m truly confused. Are you trying to add to the murder aesthetic, because if we’re being real you kind of nailed it already. Or do you genuinely think that fucking horror show of a child’s toy is charming?  And is putting it in a stationary chair just like, not getting it done for you? Does it have to be in a creaky old chair that is so easily influenced by inertia it can begin moving with any old breeze that comes through this questionable insulation OR A FUCKING GHOST’S LIGHT TOUCH? Do you put it there so some weary traveler, like my clueless mom, gets creeped out and MOVES it thereby transferring the curse once and for all? That last one honestly makes the most sense. So come @ me antique doll enthusiasts. I want to know what your fucking problem is. 

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The Internet and Validation

Ever since the internet was invented in 1996 or whenever, people have pretended to use it as way to connect and learn. What it’s really for, is validation and porn. 

I use the words “validation” and “porn” in their broadest, most abstract, and loosely defined ways. Mostly so I can make the above statement work, but also because I really feel like nearly everything on the internet falls into those two categories. 

Kitten videos? Porn. Twitter? Validation. It either gets you off or gives you purpose. Wikipedia? Porn AND validation. It’s all about making ourselves feel and seem more important than we actually are. It empowers us to give our thoughts and opinions on shit we have no business even talking about. And it all started with AIM.

AIM was my first intro to the internet. I got it the last second of my senior year in high school and survived on it in college. It was a passive aggressive teenage fever dream. When you logged on, it would show a little person open a door next to your name for all the world to see. When you logged off? The door would slam shut like the sullen, hormonal teenager you were IRL. You could really fuck with someone’s anxiety just by logging on, waiting for 10 secs and logging off.  I’m looking at you AMANDA. 

And the away message was everything. Want to send a not-so-secret message to your crush or your ex-best friend? Put that shit in an away message, throw it up there, and sit and stare at the chat bar until you see them logon, presumably read your cleverly crafted message, and log right the fuck off. Door slam. They could not even HANDLE the genius of your subtlety. The had to leave the whole program that shit was so real. You did it.

The only good thing about AIM was that it wasn’t mobile. Even if you had a laptop, you’d have to lug that brick somewhere that had an ethernet cable. Wireless wasn’t a thing. Our first foray into social media was tethered far away enough from reality. You would eventually have to leave the chat room, and also the actual room. And when you did, you just had to obsessively wonder what everyone was doing, who was mad at you, who likes you, and what Amanda’s fucking problem was last Tuesday. 

And if they weren’t online at the same time as you? Too fucking bad. You could only pray that Mark would check AIM at that exact moment. And why isn’t he? Soccer practice ended an hour ago. What the fuck Mark?

But you’d get over it. You’d make up an elaborate reason in your mind why people weren’t paying attention to you. Before myspace and facebook you could just assume that your friends desperately wanted to talk, but their mom wouldn’t get off the phone for them to use the dial up.

Now with twitter and insta and snapchat, you can see in real time, that not only are they out having a way better time without you, not trying to reach you at all, they are totally throwing it in your face by going to that new Thai place YOU told them about. Everyone hates you. You are the worst. Your life sucks. The Thai place is just ok.

So you head on over to twitter to post something really witty and clever and get some likes, and before you know it, Steve from Akron Ohio is mansplaining the difference between stand-up and improv comedy. Neither fucking one of you are comedians. Now you’re in a 26 thread tweet battle about the importance Second City played in the evolution of the sketch show and you’ve NEVER EVEN FUCKING BEEN TO CHICAGO. What a time to be alive. 

Is someone studying this? Like is there research on what this constant stream of information is doing to our anxiety levels? I’m sure there is but every time I go to search for it a I get a notification on my smart watch that Steve feels like because of the #metoo movement his opinion no longer matters. Plus my cousin, who always tries to sell me herbalife, sent me a video about a baby rhino and dog that are best friends. What were talking about?

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It's hard to tell but there are so many women. And the metro is full!

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Episcopalians doing pre protest prayer in front of temple

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If you're going to march in a women's protest, do it with the Virginia School of Theology.

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My best friend of whole my life and our girl hils.

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Somewhere in South Carolina..

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This ruck has been through some shit. So has she. No doubt which patch I need for this weekend...f#*k easy.

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The journey to the women's march begins with a budget meal plan.

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The D.C. Women’s March

I grew up in south Alabama. I couldn’t wait to get out. Pretty typical.

I did get out. I moved to Atlanta, all over Florida and finally to Seattle, where I lived for 3 amazing years. Things didn’t work out for lots of reasons and in October 2016 I decided to move back home and manage a smal bar in my hometown. I thought it would be great. I thought I’d have an amazing support system, it would be cheap and I could reset and figure out my life. Then on November 9th I woke up to a different possibility.

I’m a bartender. I hear everything. Conversations and debates have been raging since I got here. Each one escalating with every drink. Shit got real for me real quick. I’m legitimately scared.

And that amazing support system? They can’t understand how I could support Hillary. They don’t think Trump is really that bad. They have no problem with me being gay they say, but they don’t acknowledge street harassment or micro-aggressions. My concerns, my experience is all minimized into another overreacting liberal. Too sensitive and worry too much. Too Seattle.  

When I found out about the women’s march in DC there was never any doubt for me that I would go. My best friend lives in DC and it’s a drive from here. A long one but I’m ok with that. I have two pets, not a lot of money and really no business driving up there in one weekend. No one gets it. They don’t have to. Like many people I woke up to the news of Trump feeling panicked and helpless. I need to do something. Even if it’s just to say, surrounded by thousands of people, this is not normal. This is not ok. I’m not overreacting and I’m not too much of anything.

Today I’m packing for my journey. And I will be updating my trip. Even if no one sees it, it’s for me. To share. To look back on maybe one day and know that in all the times I felt alone maybe I wasn’t really. And neither are you. To quote one of my favorite movies, that feels all too possible now- “I don’t know you, but I love you.”