Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Eleven Things.

Last night, I talked myself into a bath. That's right, I had to convince myself to bathe. Normally, I take a quick shower, as quickly as possible, then go to bed. Lately, my schedule has been hectic (read: shitty) and I feel my grip on my time loosening with every obligation. It isn't necessarily work, a lot of it is self created. When I get home from work, I feel the burden of all the crap that needs to be done at home; therefore, I usually busy myself with busy work for the short chunk of time that is supposed to be my own. Sweeping, mopping, folding clothes, dusting, organizing, reorganizing, scrubbing....if I had more time, I would address my obvious OCD issues; however, doing so means something would get left unpolished at home. It makes me stressed out when there is something undone. I can't just sit and enjoy a movie when I know that somewhere in the house, there is a dust bunny lurking. It is crazy, I already know. And, I am not at all sure where it came from. I wasn't a tidy kid, my parents are not neat freaks, and in the grand scheme of things, I know it doesn't matter. Am I overcompensating for not having children by cleaning my house like I do? So, anyway...back to the bath. Even that is an ordeal.

Before I can sit in the tub and soak, I have to clean the tub. Not because I am a germaphobe, but because my dog has a weird habit of hanging out in the tub when I am not home. Her dirty little paws leave prints all over it, so much so that it actually looks as though I have some sort of custom painted tub. Anyway, I have to clean up the paw prints. So, last night, I decided it would be worth the effort. I have the process down to a science. Scrubbing Bubbles is a great product for people who want to clean while they wait to clean something else. Spray, scrub (yes, I know it is supposed to do it for me...but Harriet's dirt is tough), rinse. I fill up the tub, add my bath additives, then get in. Harriet comes in and after a big sigh, lies down beside the tub, probably thinking, "I worked so hard on that tub today...damn." As I soaked away my cares compiled my to do list for Wednesday, I noticed the bottle of Philosophy Apricots and Cream bath gel. There is a recipe for actual Apricots and Cream on the front of the bottle. I decided to compile a new list:

STUFF I WOULD DO IF I HAD MORE TIME
I would:
1. Actually make the Apricots and Cream recipe from the Philosophy bottle. I've never had an apricot, so I don't know if I would even like it, but I can't remember the last time I made a recipe just for the hell of it.
2. Sketch. The closest I come to actually doing something creative is dusting my drawing table.
3. Read. Those summer reading books that I was soooo excited about a few months ago? Still in the tall stack I placed them in. Officially changed the name of the stack to Fall Reading Stack and placed a moratorium on any new reading materials.
4. Pet Harriet's pretty little head. I miss my dog when I am out there rushing from client to client. I recently commited to walking her at least 3-4 times a week and am keeping this commitment. I just wish I had more time to actually invite her into my lap and pat her belly. That would require sitting.
5. Sit more. With the exception of lunch, which I normally eat in the car, I eat most of my meals standing up. I have plenty of comfortable seating options, including a lovely rocking chair on the front porch, perfect for enjoying the cool evenings. I need to use that...after cleaning it.
6. Watch all the stuff in my DVR, as well as my Netflix queue. I still haven't seen the final season of Nip/Tuck.
7. Shop. Yes, that is a risky situation. I do shop now, but for things to make life easier...gadgets, tools, food. I mean shop for nothing. Of course, that is a dangerous thing for me, being budgeted to death, but it would be nice to go to some of my old haunts for an afternoon (Celery, Davis Kidd/DK, Fresh Market, Steinmart, Olde Time Pottery, etc).
8. Visit my mom. Sometimes, I crave going home and pretending I am 8.
9. Get drunk. I love wine and liquor, but what fun is it to have a nice glass of wine while sweeping the floor? I remember sitting on my patio on Friday nights, listening to the sounds of the nearby high school football game, needing a blanket, and finishing off a bottle of merlot. How long ago was that? Last year? Two years ago? Funny Sad thing is, my home is no more improved now than then, so what have I been wasting time on???
10. Call my friends. I am not a phone talker. This is yet another example of how different I am from how I used to be. I abhor talking on the phone, no matter who it is. Sometimes I will get a wild hair, and will call up someone I haven't talked to in a while, but then after about 5 minutes, I am ready to hang up. I wonder if Facebook killed my desire to catch up? More than likely, it is the fact that I talk to people that I generally do not want to talk to all day. When I am on the phone, I think about all the things I could be doing if I wasn't on the phone. If I had more time, I would call up my friends and post up for a marathon phone call, without a care about what was left undone.
11. Ride my bike. My boyfriend bought me a fabulous bike for my birthday. It really is awesome. I have ridden it three times since June. There is a limitation on my time with the bike; however, as it is kept at his house because he lives on the bike trail. There is nowhere to ride the bike here at my house. Therefore, riding the bike involves all sorts of scheduling and planning. That sucks.

I'm on to something here...I feel as though I have to perfect things before I can enjoy them, and get so caught up in the perfecting that I have no time or energy for enjoying. I require perfect conditions before partaking. Perfection was never a big thing for me, I was never an overachiever, my parents were of the "good enough" school of parenting, I certainly don't look like a perfectionist with my stubble legs and wild frizzy hair; so what is that about? I should really take some time to sort that out...

but my coffee pot is grungy.

Friday, September 9, 2011

Southern Decadence: A Survival Guide

A summation of what I learned from my weekend in New Orleans:

1. Labor Day weekend is the Annual Southern Decadence Festival in New Orleans. This is a festival that trots out the worst that the gay population has to offer. If you want an overview of all the gay stereotypes and fuel for your anti-gay campaign...this is the place to be. If you basically don't care and have no issue with gay/lesbian/bi/trans/etc...stay far away. Visit St Pete, the weather is lovely. I have no problem whatsoever with gay pride/rights/marriage/etc. I do have a problem with obnoxious people, however. I am concrete and stockstill in my belief that all men are created equal. Gay, straight, black, white, yellow, red, whatever. While I am fairly open-minded...there are a lot of people who are not. Donning a pink boa, wearing the entire color collection of Wet n Wild makeup, and handing out personal lubricant is not going to change anyone's mind.
Wow, thanks, so I forget...am I voting on gay marriage or banning friction?



I was unsure whether I was supposed to stare or not. It was the Freaknik for gays. You don't want to be viewed as freaks? Then quit acting like freaks.

My mother taught me not to stare at people in wheelchairs. But what if that wheelchair is painted neon green and has a sign above it that says, "LOOK AT THIS PERSON IN THE NEON GREEN WHEELCHAIR!!!!" Am I still expected to act like the handicapped person walks amongst the rest of us?

2. Do not listen to the weather channel. Tropical Storm Lee: a story in photos...




Thanks Lee for lowering the temps to the mid 80's, washing away all the Jean Nate and piss, and inspiring me to buy some CUTE rainboots!



3. This weekend was brought to you by The Sibilant S. Everywhere I turned, there was Steam escaping from the mouths of men. What is the deal with this? You are gay, I get it. You were born that way...I'll buy that. But the lisp? It sounds ridiculous. SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. I kept looking in the gutters for snakes. Just another stereotype turning into fact.
Hold on to your men, ladieS...there iS a cloiSter of queenS ahead.

And while I am on the subject of speech, why is everyone talking so LOUD???? Is there some sort of gay hearing deficit plaguing the population? Here's a clue for all those shouting about discrimination: It isn't about your orientation...it is about the fact that you are fucking obnoxious. Why bother wearing bright, loud, and visually arresting garb when all you have to do is open your mouth. Every single restaurant that I walked into had tables full of men shouting at each other. Not just on Bourbon street, where shouting at each other is a standard. Jim and I couldn't hear the waiter, much less each other, at NOLA...which isn't a casual watering hole. Most of our meals were spent watching each other chew food that we could not discuss because of the Loud Talking Competition at the next table. I didn't expect a library environment, but I also did not expect a cattle auction either. SSSHHHH!

4. Um....just because you are not looking at me, that does not mean I am not looking at you. What are you...five?



Dude, they got bathrooms in every single one of these buildings. The world is not your changing room. Once again...the stereotype is shouting: All gays have bad manners. Now, I know that isn't true, but what about the 8 year old kid across the street. The power of one, my friends. That kid is going to remember seeing your lily white inner thighs every time someone mentions gay, New Orleans, French Quarter, queer, decadence, and southern. The kid will grow up with the notion that all gays have shitty manners. He or she will marry a like minded mate and produce offspring that will be taught that same belief. Not really helping your cause.

5. The gay population has the same pratfalls as the straight population. Case in point...I have never seen as many mandals as I saw this weekend. Here's the deal: the only person who thinks that mandals are okay is the person that is wearing them. Straight women abhor mandals. I'd be willing to bet gay men don't like them either. In hundreds of French Quarter hotel rooms this weekend, there was a silent plea being sent up: Please, for the love of God, don't wear those mandals today. And then...a hundred little lies: Yeah, honey, you look fine...let's go. Same thing with fanny packs and knee length cargo shorts. It's universal. People let themselves go, whether gay or straight, and then expect their mates to just overlook things. You know, because of love. No matter if you are gay, straight, bi, confused, or hetero...there has to be something visually appealing there. Call it shallow, it is the truth. And then, there's this:

Clearly, he does not have AT&T. He didn't get the text that read, "Meet at the golden lantern, dress casual". His friends were all, "Oh my God, you guyS, what iS up with Carl? Let'S ditch him at Pat O'BrienS."

6. New Orleans is not the place for families. Actually, I already knew this. I do not understand why anyone would think that hauling your baby and all of it's crap to New Orleans is a good idea. Strollers and cobblestones do not mix. And just because you guys wanted to multiply, that does not give you supreme rights to the sidewalk. Your toddlers are annoying in New Orleans, just the same as Memphis. I overheard one woman tell her child, "You better get back over here, someone is going to snatch you up and take you home with them." No they won't. Take your brood and go somewhere else; a place where the vomit won't clog the wheels of your stroller. A place where you don't have to answer questions like, "Mama, what does twink mean?" A place where I don't have to watch your fat-backed daughter in a halter top upset the pidgeons. Baton Rouge is lovely this time of year. I have no pics of said fat-backed kids to share...as photographing kids is not a good idea. It is the same "don't stare at the wheelchair" argument. Don't stare at the obnoxious 8 year old running around squawking "LOOK AT ME! LOOK! LOOK AT ME!!!!!"

All in all, I had a great time in the Big Easy. The storm was mild, the gays were loud, the kids were fat, the parents were indulgent, and the food was good. I learned that being obnoxious is a universal trait, rain boots with flair can be had, if you watch long enough...a kid will receive an empty threat from it's parent, and the shrimp and grits is just as good when someone is hollering at the next table.