Okay, so I haven’t been writing lately cause of the bloody pony and squirrel. If you’re new, you may not have been introduced. First there is Sad Pony. He might look like a picture, but he’s very real. He enjoys sitting on me and acting sarcastic to hide his deep, dark pain.
Next up is Squirrel. He is also not just a picture, but a real anxiety attack in fuzzy form.
So right, as Merbear, whose post I just stole, said, music can help tame these bad boys here, at least for a little while. At the moment I am looking into new treatments for them because they’re cute and all but I want them kept at bay. I want an actual life. When you can look at your blog posts, giggle a little cause gosh you’re funny, but then realize that crap, you’ve sort of gone downhill over the years, it’s time to do something. Anything. But before I take up drunk hunting, I figured I’d try to write a few posts. Just to say I did. And why music? Cause I can’t think of anything else right now! Awesome!
So I had a record player when I was really little. It was a Winnie the Pooh record player. And I played it quite a bit. I also used the record player in the living room. Sometimes you had to put one of those little circular things inside the single disks, cause they had a bigger hole. I don’t know why they had a bigger hole, they just did. Also you had to play them on a higher speed. This was also a fun thing to do to regular records, so they would song like Chipmunks. Where was I? Right, so I played records, like Ghostbusters. I remember that one, especially on high speed. Also “Bad Boys” by Miami Sound Machine now known as Gloria Estefan. I am dating myself. I’m a great date.
I also had cassette tapes (all you cute little millennials – google this stuff) and the first one I remember was Hall and Oates. My brother gave it to me, because back then he gave me stuff he wanted. Come to think of it, he still kind of does this. I was around eight I think? That was also when my parents gave me my first phone in my room (pink!), so they wouldn’t have to hear me yammer any longer. My parents were progressive that way. My brother and I both got Sony Walkmans, because my parents liked us also shutting up on trips. I would often listen to my player, especially when I needed to cover up my father’s twang Country music. I was pleased to find out that Thing Two was trying to drown out Hakuna Matata the other day while Thing One and I sang at the tops of our lungs. Apparently Disney doesn’t go well with My Chemical Romance. We felt sads about this – haha, no we didn’t.
I can remember thinking I was sooo much older listening to music. I walked home one day and the speakers at the baseball field were playing Cyndi Lauper’s She-Bop and I danced and sang like the bad nine-year-old I was, having blissfully no idea what Cyndi was actually singing about (thank you Cracked for clearing up that mystery). There are other songs that bring back memories of roller skating rinks (look it up) and amusement parks (ours was called Wonderland, for reals). Now that I’m older, I listen to other music, but I still love the 80s. They are the best. I like some of today’s music – some of which I will embarrassingly admit to later, and the oldies too, though not as much as Merbear. We still have this weird ability to finish songs the other one starts, no matter what the time or genre. Sometimes we don’t both like a song and we have to take a breather and say, it’s okay, everyone has faults. But mostly we enjoy the same stuff. While there are songs that you love, there are also songs you hate with equal passion. I’ll talk about that too, maybe.
Music has a magical ability to change your mood. It doesn’t work on everyone – I had tone deaf English students. I asked them how all different genres of music felt, what it made them think of, from classical to modern day, from fast to slow. They said “your music sucks.”. I was 22, they were at least 18. I really don’t think four years should have made a difference. But wow, it can. For me, though, music is powerful. I can feel my heart swell when I hear it, and my soul soar. Like movies, music can take you places. It can actually heal you, and slow down your anxiety (lots of youtube videos are good for this). I even saw a video about this old man with Alzheimer’s who was non responsive – until they put headphones on him with his favorite music from his younger years. He literally came alive.
So yeah, I think I’ll talk about music. Here’s hoping, anyway.
“Tale as old as time
Song as old as rhyme
Beauty and the Beast”
– “Beauty and the Beast”
*Warning Spoiler: The beast turns into a prince at the end. Sorry! Seriously, no spoilers.
Tonight I went to the pre-showing of the new live-action Beauty and the Beast. I bought my tickets early for the “Fan Event” which translated into your tickets cost more, mostly, though we got awesome drinks and popcorn buckets. At first I was thinking I got gipped, because come on, other theaters in big cities got these really pretty pins, and I got a bucket. But still, there were cushy recliners, assigned seating, and a design to the theater that ensured you would see the movie, no matter how tall or fat headed the person in front of you might be.
My husband, who believe me showed his twu luv by coming with me after I bought him a ticket, was literally the legs of the operation. He went back for the popcorn buckets and the drinks, then again back for the 3-D glasses (who knew it was 3-D?) that the stupidhead ticket guy didn’t tell us to take. The special feature was an interview with the guys working on the score (which I’m sure will be on the DVD) and the Beauty and the Beast music video (which has already been on youtube. Check it out, it’s trippin’.)
In case you are wondering about the Things, they were invited to the movie in the same theater at the same time by some friends whose mother actually shelled out for the tickets. Vile betrayers. Thing Two said she hoped that we weren’t close to each other, to which I responded “So do I. Like I want to be near teen girls giggling.” I mean, seriously, I didn’t. I was however, beside an adorable little girl wearing a Belle dress and sparkly shoes. More on her later.
When the movie started, any complaints I might have had vanished. Any other thoughts I had vanished as well. No more political stupidity, no more stress, no more worries, for a little over an hour. Just as I was during my Thing One’s starring role (she was a spoon) in the high school Beauty and the Beast musical, I was transfixed. I was pretty sure my husband was over there, but I didn’t check to see. I did not peel my eyes from the screen.
Was the movie good? Well, I suppose part of it depends on whether you liked the original movie, or Disney period. Though I feel I must point out that the guy playing Gaston is evil but extremely hot, and Emma Watson is obviously beautiful. So you know, there’s something for everybody. Well most people. There were some who, for hateful reasons you can easily discover with a quick Google click, refused to take their unfortunate children to the movie. (Hint: It’s seriously not a big deal and I doubt the kids will notice, parents.) Disney is feeling the hurt, people, I mean with sold out theaters long before the movie began, gosh I’m not sure what they will do!
I was already obsessed long before the movie came out, thanks to them announcing it like ten years early. When the merchandise came out, I completely restrained myself and did not buy a thing. I bought several things. Though not enough to break my budget, so no naysayers. I’ve had my fill of naysayers, most of them found on Disney fan boards. Go away, false fans. Because this was not just a movie. This was an incredible movie, with the ability to make me feel, at forty years old, the awe and wonder and beauty of the film I first watched at fourteen.
It’s a story that is – well not as old as time, I don’t think the dinosaurs did musicals. But close. It’s been retold millions of ways. I love all of them. The heart of the story is always the same – see beyond appearances, for beauty is found within. It is a lesson many people need to take to heart, now more than ever, as they dismiss people based on the color of their skin, the place they grew up, the religion they believe, the people they love. Belle does not fall in love with the Beast as soon as she sees him. She thinks he’s a jerk, since he acts like a jerk. But as she spends time with him, gets to know him, she sees beyond the outside, beyond her first impressions. She finds he is not so different than herself.
“Barely even friends
Then somebody bends
This movie had a lot to live up to, as the original Disney cartoon of Beauty and the Beast is a beloved classic, the only animated feature to be nominated for an Academy Award. I believe it lived up to the original, keeping close with the story, but with twists. For one thing, it briefly mentions why no one realized there was a freaking castle and royalty nearby. That had been bugging me for years! There are also so many touching moments. Like Belle and her father, and their love for each other, and ostracism from a town of people with no imagination, no vision into the future. I know people like those in this “poor provincial town” and – I cannot imagine living that way, with no stories in your head, no new ideas.
They didn’t forget the talking furniture and appliances. They are done in CGI, which some have complained is awful, because they probably come from Belle’s town and can’t see beyond pixels. Though they are very different in appearance than the Disney version, they absolutely fascinated me. Disney created an atmosphere much more conducive to 18th century France. I work in archives, so I tend to like old stuff. The costumes, the enchanted objects, the castle, the town, all of it is very true to the time period. Now some complained that Belle’s dress is too modern, and that lousy feminist Emma Watson should have worn a proper corset. First of all, Belle’s dress is more modern because she’s Belle, always looking to the future, never having to fit in, and also because Emma didn’t want the depiction of unrealistic figures. I for one didn’t even notice, probably because Emma is naturally so thin she doesn’t even need a corset.
Yet with all the beauty, the incredible special effects and imaginative sets, none of it matters if you do not love the characters. And you do love these characters. There is Gaston, the handsome idiot, harmless enough until for the first time he doesn’t get what he wants. The household objects are all lovable as well, which allow you to look past the fact that they aren’t actually on the screen. Emma talked to nothing a lot. There is the Beast, punished severely for his arrogance, filled with anger and despair, but who still has enough humanity to save Belle from a pack of wolves. And there is Belle, who could have escaped when the Beast was attacked, but her morality, her inner goodness, compels her to help nurse the Beast back to health. It starts with small acts of kindness, which lead to more of these acts, more closeness, and more understanding of both themselves and each other, for you cannot love without knowing who you are first. And, as Belle points out, you cannot love unless you are free.
“It is sweet and strange
Finding you can change
Learning you were wrong.”
I’ll admit it. I cried during this movie, with my hands up by my mouth. I cried on the way home. But I wasn’t depressed. They were tears of absolute joy, for this is a story I have written myself, all my life, in books that are never quite good enough, that I have never dared show to any but one friend, that I have never tried to publish, that so often, I say I never have time to work on. But the stories in my head never go away. They are there, urging me on, even as I try to ignore them. But tonight, in the little girl in the Belle dress, I saw not just my girls when they were younger, but I saw myself. The whole world ahead, every day filled with magic, with possibility. I watched as she tried to grab the flakes of gold that shot out of the screen at you. And I delighted when the credits rolled, the song played, and she danced so passionately in the aisle.
It’s time to remember that little girl, or boy, that’s inside you. It’s time to listen to the voice that speaks to you, I mean, as long as it’s not an actual voice you understand. It is simply time for us to find the beauty within ourselves and each other, to love instead of hate, to make the world a better place for the little girls dancing in the aisles, lost in dreamland.
I know things seem kinda dark right now, what with a rabid toddler in the White House. It’s like Richie Rich took over, and the rest of the White House staff has to race around cleaning up his messes (not potty trained yet) and providing him with everything he wants, when he wants it, no matter how insane it is. They also have to explain his actions away like “Well he needed his nap” (one of his people actually said he crank called all those foreign leaders because he was “tired”) because they can’t admit that they are really, really bad parents. If any of you have been parents, or have even known a toddler, you realize that these tiny people are not sane. You have to spend most of your time keeping them from killing themselves. With the president, you have to keep him from killing everybody else. Haha, yeah I’m not kidding. He knows nuke codes, you guys. Nuke codes in the hands of a toddler. If that doesn’t scare the crap out of you, I don’t know what does.
Now I’m not saying he’s going to nuke us all, but he COULD, and really that’s like just giving your toddler a box of matches. We don’t know he’s going to burn down the house. Maybe he’ll just eat them. But they are there, and they really, really should not be around a toddler. Like paint chips. I bet there were golden paint chips near the Donald when he was young. Explains so much.
So how do we deal with this? He’s here, he got elected (How? Just how?) and we have to deal with him in a peaceful manner. I found some great products to help us do just that! Click to Enlarge the Fun!
Trump Voodoo Dolls
This is great. It is so great. Really great. A cheeto with pins in it. I laughed and laughed and laughed. A strange part of me actually wanted to buy it from Ebay. But that would have kept this amazing image away from others. It’s a great marketing strategy. Imagine, an entire bag of voodoo dolls, just waiting for you. And when you’re done, you can eat him. Don’t worry, unlike the original, these are not toxic. Oddly enough, no one paid 3 bucks for a cheeto (I was a little surprised by this) but the seller promised me to relist. We had an interesting conversation about Cheeto here. The seller does not like Cheeto (in case the pins didn’t clue you in) and is hoping it goes viral. Do your part to make it so, guys! Here is the link, which is hopefully updated with a relist soon.
Now some of you may be saying, sure Alice, sticking pins in my snack food is fun and all, but it’s not that sturdy. Plus I’m not sure if I’d doing the voodoo right. Don’t we need to have a doll with some pins to make black magic? Never fear, there is an answer for this as well, and it’s also on Ebay. I ordered one for myself and hope to test it soon. The pictures in the advertisement, though, are very informative.
Yes, that’s right, a genuine voodoo doll, I’m sure of it due to my tireless research (tireless because I did none) . It’s a doll, it looks like Fart (that’s UK for Trump) and you can put a pin anywhere you want. There are so many places. So many. Now I do not advocate actually harming the president, I mean he’ll probably eventually do that himself by ticking off the wrong person. But hey, if you put a pin in his eye, and he happens to get an eye boo boo – that’s hardly your fault. I mean, stuff happens, right? Like the following on the advertisement:
Speaking of furry friends, it seems a shame to leave them out of all the fun. They can smell stupid, and they want to help their owners out however they can. Or, at least, they really like tearing stuff up. Just like Senor Cheeto! That’s why more marketing gurus, this time on Amazon, came up with this.
Trump Cat Toy
Cats come runnin’ for the good taste of Trump! Especially when he’s loaded with drugs, er cat nip. You’ll notice that there is a version for cats and dogs (the dog one comes with a squeaker), and also a variety of politicians you can choose for Fluffy. I’m not sure that Hillary Clinton needs anymore punishment, as she lost to Cheeto here, Bill is just tired, and Bernie is stuck questioning Cheeto’s cabinet contenders which would lead anyone to bang his head repeatedly against his desk. That can’t be good for a guy that old. Our Favorite Russian, Putin, is awesome, though.
Another great thing about these pet toys is the reviews from creative Amazon customers.
But Alice, you might ask, how can you really know how good these products are without testing them? Well, never fear, for I have both the Trump voodoo doll (the cloth one, not the cheeto though I’d be happy to buy a bag for the sake of research), and the cat toy on order. We don’t have a regular cat, but we do have Hazel the stray cat, who graces us with her presence when she wants food. Sometimes she even acts cute about it, but we all know she’s really evil. Still, I hope she loves the doll as much as the other cat customers must, since it’s on back order at the moment.
Donald Trump SqueezeEZ Big Head Collectible Stress Ball
And finally, last but not least, we all need a way to get rid of stress these days. Ripped off the head of your stress ducky? I did once, and the church ladies’ retreat director gave me a funny look when I said “Look, he’s got a tracheotomy”. Some people have no sense of humor. I got another duck, though. Where was I? Oh, right, next up, the Trump stress ball.
These kinda scare me, and we’re talking about me here. I haven’t dared buy one yet. Maybe I’ll put some orange fuzz on my stress cow, donated graciously by Thing Two who told me not to rip off its head. Everyone’s a critic. But if you order one of these squeeze heads, you might get lucky and receive the coveted gold head. It’s still filled with air like the others, but special.
That’s all I have for now! When I get my other products, I promise to show my own personal review with the help of Hazel the cat, my Things, and a bunch of sharp stuff. I’m sure they will push me into it, no matter how Sad Pony I get just because the president wants to invade Australia, or whatever. Also look out for Sim Trump. It’s been a while since I wrote my posts on Boppo the Clown (search for Boppo in my search box if you’re extremely bored and hate clowns), but now I have The Sims 4, which allows you a lot more customization on characters. So, for instance you could make one fat with orange hair. Not sure if I can make him orange yet, but I’ll let you now. I can also give him lots of new awful character traits, like insane.
Stay tuned, and if the world gets you down, do that voodoo that you do so well.
I promised earlier to tell you about some of the fun new comments I got on very old posts. People continue to comment on my post from 2013 about killing virtual people. This might be because it comes up anytime someone looks for the search terms “How do I kill my virtual people?”. It pops up on the first page, last I checked. Thanks, Google, though really, has no one else thought of writing about this? Just me, huh? Ah, well, I am certainly not the first one to think of doing it, judging by the response I have had. I’ll give you a link to it on the off chance you weren’t here in 2013.
There were actually comments on a couple of other posts too, but as I was looking over “Hi, my name is Alice and I kill tiny virtual people“, I realized there were several comments I hadn’t answered both against and – sometimes scarily – in support of my treatment of pretend people. So I gathered them all up here in my heart and then smacked them onto this here post.
First are the ones who are very upset with me over the post. I may have reported these guys before, but I figure it I can’t remember it, neither can you.
What I love most about this irate comment, besides the fact that it came two years later, is how upset this person is that I gave incorrect information on my blog. I’m really not an educational blog, unless you ask my spambots, who highly recommend me to other spambots. And I’m sorry, Lisa who happens to have no blog like most of these comments, if they didn’t want me to use the red punishment glove, they really shouldn’t have given it to me, should they? Case closed.
Come on, Alaska, there’s no need to get touchy just because you aren’t actually a real state. I play the game because it lets me slap people over and over, which is usually frowned upon outside of the game. And there are just some people who need it. Also, you should consider forgiveness, because my little pretend man forgave me as soon as I bought him some bread. And I’d locked him in the nuclear room for a week.
Then there are the ones who support me . . . maybe just a little too much.
Happy to be helpful and all. Just one of my many acts of public service there.
I’m not sure how this person was burning the virtual woman. I didn’t realize this was an option in this game. The Sims, sure, but this one? Also this is not the place to find out if something is normal, Dee. Sorry.
You don’t have to answer comments if your readers do it for you. But this one goes on for a while even after this screen shot. I sort of . . . left it alone.
Finally, my favorite.
First off, I love how this literally turned into a Crazy Computer Gamers Anonymous group. Second, what is the person responding meaning? If they go peacefully? Can you arrest the virtual people now, cause I didn’t realize you could. That adds a new layer of fun. Or maybe K.A.R meant that the people kept dying – peacefully? – on their own before she / he could kill them? I just don’t know, but it continues to perplex me.
That’s all I have for now. Come back later and I’ll show you how I insulted Jesus and screwed up the plot of Sophia the First. Also Trump voodoo dolls.
First off, a quick thank ye to all those who are still following and maybe even reading me, and those who just started following, liking, commenting, etc. I even thank you weirdos who left me the bizarrely critical comments cause gosh you’re fun. I haven’t been writing as much, but I’m hoping to pick up on this because the counselor says it’s good to get out my Alice Rage in other ways than, say, strangling a coworker because MY GAWD he is STILL slamming the stapler from what seems like a distance of 10 feet so that it goes KABAMMMM and I jump out of my seat. #bekindtostaplers
I just had a relaxy moment. Back now! Yes, now that I’m relaxed I should discuss what’s happened so far in my world. I got knocked down, but I got up again, you ain’t never gonna keep me down so give me some booze and I will piss the night away. Or something. And in world news, our new president continues to do in just a few weeks what it took a couple of years for George W. Bush to do – make every country hate us. He’s been all crank calling foreign leaders askin them what his job is, puttin’ em on notice, threatening war – what a hoot. He even picked on Australia. You know – all those Australian terrorists with their suicide bomber kangaroos. No one ever sees that coming.
I kind of wish President Cheeto would quit doing that. You know – talking. And tweeting. And – making that face, just stop, stop now. But there is one thing I have to give Trump – he’s making people learn more about government right along with him. For instance, presidential cabinet positions keep getting filled, and for the first time people are caring because we’re wondering if he will literally put a Schnauzer (as long as it’s rich and white) in one of the seats. We just got a Secretary of Education who knows nothing about children, public schools or, uh, education since she failed her exam massively during try-outs.
I first learned about this via my regular news: comedy shows, but I wanted to learn more so I actually watched the real clips. Bernie Sanders, Al Franken, Tim Kaine (remember him? Hillary’s VP pick? He’s actually pretty good), and Elizabeth Warren just bullied poor Betsy with crazy questions like are you for equal education for all, or did your family donate a few hundred million dollars to the Republican party, or what’s a school? “I’ll study that!” she says, which is probably the first time she’s promised to study anything at all. Al Franken said “I’m surprised – no actually I’m not,” which was
absolutely hilarious totally out of line! I might have watched the clips of them torturing her several times on youtube. Education can be fun!
We also learned that banning a huge group of people from coming to our country (no matter how legal they are) based only on religion and nationality is ding ding ding against the constitution! And federal judges – we have those! – have blocked it, for now. We learned more about executive orders, like how a big wad of bacteria can sneak himself onto the nations’ security council by just slipping that in along with something else stupid, like building a wall to keep people of another nationality out because they are all bad hombres who sell drugs and rape and murder people.
Also we got educated that there is no such thing as terrorism by white people. I am so relieved.
Soon I’m sure we’ll learn more about foreign relations by going to war with them, as we have with past presidents, only this time it won’t take as long. This learning is hurting my brain, and I’m exhausted already, and we aren’t through the first month yet. And it’s not just us. Other countries are also getting tired of all this education. So I have a solution. We move, but not to Canada (I’m sure you guys are next on the terrorist watch list, hide yo wives, hide yo kids). No, we’re going to Nanalan, a place Thing Two introduced me to, and which we have had endless fun with, in spite of this show supposedly just being for children. It acts as a kind of natural tranquilizer, like Bob Ross, only with puppets. Take a look!
But wait, there’s more. Like there’s an adventure with “a Lolly”! I’ll show you in other posts. Yes, we have no idea what Yoda’s love child here is saying, though props to the person for attempting to translate, but words no longer make sense in the real world either, so why here? I’ll be with puppets eating peepos if you need me.
P.S. I have been very bad about going through my reader – it takes too much from my tiny hamster brain. So if you will leave me links to you recent posts right here, I’ll read them and try to catch up. Peepo.
You know, I said to myself, I said, “I am not going to deal with this whole political thing anymore. Nope. I can’t. I have my own problems like depression, anxiety, disease of the week, parasites, laundry, etc. So I am just going to Let it Go. Yeah, staying out of it. I mean, sure, he’s an idiot, but you know – how much could he really do?”
I’m a snarky, sarcastic cynic who likes to brag about her dark soul, and yet somewhere, deep inside, there is this stupid thing called . . . optimism? There is. It’s there. My counselor told me about it. She said, “Alice, you are a cynic, but you still hope!” And she’s right. I do! Even though I absolutely know that people are awful, I, for some reason I’m still not sure of, continue to think people are basically decent humans. I just . . . assume this in spite of increasing evidence to the contrary. I’ll give you an example.
For roughly the length of the 2016 political race, I was working on an exhibit about the presidents of the university for which I work. Yes, more presidents. Most of them were okay. But we did have a Trump. His name was even the same as an insect. No one could get rid of him, though, because he had Congress and the Senate, er, the board of regents on his side. Even though just about every faculty member hated him, and voted to have him removed, he stayed. For SIX YEARS that luckily I was not at that university, he stayed. Yes, it’s true. I got to write about him, too, but because one member of that board of regents is still active politically around here and because it’s considered uncouth and embarrassing to admit that this guy effectively shut down academic freedom at our university, and heck, freedom of speech, I had to spin doctor this biography. I mentioned that he caused “controversy”, which made my boss cough out a snicker, but that hey, there were some things he did that didn’t destroy the fabric of education. Yeah. I felt kind of slimy after that.
But anyway, while working on this exhibit, I had the aid of a student worker. I’ll call him “Skippy” cause that’s what I actually did call him when he wasn’t there, and that was before I realized just what a little twerp he was. He just looked like a Skippy. Right, so we’d had plenty of student workers before, and I’d never had a problem with any that worked in library archives with me. In fact, I actually told one, jokingly but not, to please lower his standards cause he was making me look bad. This kid actually chose to go back to China instead of stay with us. So we got Skippy, and Skippy was different. He addressed my boss and me by “Mrs.” and last name. We told him just call us by first names. So I got to be “Miss Alice”. I felt like either a Sunday school teacher or a plantation owner.
That was just the beginning. He also didn’t know how to do anything himself and would constantly ask what to do next. Who does that? If I have nothing to do, I’m going to find something, and it’s going to be something that looks workish. But not this kid. So we gave him plenty to do. And it was so easy. I found pictures in old yearbooks, and sticky noted them, and handed them to him. Scan this. Easy. Did he scan them? No. Or he did, and somehow he did a horrible job of it. He did like to read the old newspapers, which rarely had much in them of use, but he tired me out so much it was like, yeah, you do that. But we did warn him, and my boss and I were very, very explicit in this – write on the back where you found the picture or article, the date, and what it is about. So he – did not. So we told him again, to please look these things back up and write them down. He did. He wrote useful things like “Dr. Polk giving a speech.” Well, thanks, Skippy, I knew that was Dr. Polk, and I know he’s giving a speech cause he’s standing at a podium. But what is the speech about? When was the speech? Where was the speech? Where is your source? Skippy didn’t know.
We told him to do it again. Meanwhile, I am working on biographies of the presidents that weren’t insects.
Skippy finally, finally labels the pictures and information he has collected. Hallelujah. Skippy then leaves, as it was a summer internship. We were so happy to see him go. I start putting his pictures in with the ones I collected. And everything is going well. And then I, for some reason, needed to check something in the yearbook. And I discovered that – and for some reason, this surprised me – Skippy made a bunch of crap up. His labels were WRONG. He guessed, and guessed badly, where these people were, when these things took place, etc etc etc. Wow. So, basically, I had to go backwards and dig up where all this research, some of which, remember, I handed right to him, came from. He actually made my job harder.
I don’t like Skippy much. If he shows up and says “Hi, Miss Alice,” I’m really not responsible for hurling a 1925 yearbook at his stupid little head.
But back to what I wrote out way up there, about our country’s insect, Donald Trump. I was going to stay out of politics, since I had my own troubles. Yet – I look up – and wow, that bad. Less than two weeks and – that bad. He is like Skippy, who at least has the excuse of being 20 years old. Trump, or Cheeto as I like to call him, screws up, he screws up massively, and then he lies about it. And we – are surprised. Because for some reason, that little bit of optimism just won’t die already.
He can’t even do awful stuff right either. Even if you think that the statue of Liberty with her give us your cold, weary, yearning to breathe free crap should be melted down for scrap for the pipeline those Native Americans totally need, you don’t just issue an executive order effective immediately. At least have some organization to your bigotry. Instead, he messes stuff up on a global scale. People are stranded at airports. American citizens are detained, including a five-year-old who is handcuffed. And his people defend him. And I – am amazed. Twenty executive orders in ten days. This from the party who complained that Obama had too many, even though Bush had already surpassed him.
I actually want George W. Bush back. We’ve gone that far. Already.
So people are protesting. But don’t worry, cause Republicans across the country are working at getting that whole pesky protesting stuff shut down too by writing new laws into the books! Cause freedom of religion, freedom of speech, freedom of decency, yeah, none of those are needed. Yet people voted for this guy. They voted for him. Or they just stayed home and did nothing, effectively still voting for him. Just – just thank God we don’t have to worry about Hillary’s emails. Skippy supporters, you did the right thing!
I’m lying. No you didn’t. My sixteen-year-old shouted at the television “You are the president! Presidents don’t call people “dude”! Is he ten?” I think that’s too mature. Let’s not forget he also mentioned “bad dudes” in a tweet. A presidential tweet. This is really happening.
I guess all this idiocy did one thing. It brought me out of cave of self indulgent misery, into the world of misery. Yay. But good news, because I found some great Cheeto merchandise we can all use. Like a voodoo doll. I might even create a contest for people to WIN one. If I can think of one. Thing Two suggested political Haiku. Thing One said “No, those will be awful.” Which is sort of the point, but maybe we’ll think of something.
Got any ideas? Let me know in the comment section. It’s down there. If you skipped reading this post, just make up a response. I will probably believe it. Darn that optimism.
No, really, I mean – what? I have been sick a few days with what we Americans, or maybe just Southerners?, call the CRUD. I have a doctor who said that all upper respiratory infections, tonsillitis, bronchitis, laryngitis, oompalitis, etc are basically the same. So I have one of those. I don’t know. But I have been miserable. You know how miserable? Think of those ASPCA puppies and kittens they show you all the time. The ones that look like Hitler just electrocuted their mother right in front of them. They’re shivering, they’re hungry, they’re wondering why people are just filming them and not doing anything. Which I know I AM wondering. Like sheesh, get the puppy a blanket, and some dog chow you fiends. Sheesh.
It occurs to me the puppies might be actors. If so, well done, puppies.
Anyway, I have been just as miserable as those animals, only not nearly as cute. I was chatting with my friend Merbear on my phone and since I now have a Smart Phone . . . yeah. They got me. But not with the latest, greatest literally exploding phones. No, I have an old Samsung, but it still works. Like it lets me take videos of myself lying down and coughing into the phone so I can show my friend just how bad off I am. And she was like, “Have you tried steam?”
And I’m like . . . steam? I mean I have been having respiratory ailments since my teens and I am like now not a teen and I don’t know how many times I’ve used steam both for myself and my Things (kids for any of you newcomers. More on newcomers later) and I hadn’t thought of it yet. So thanks, Mer, I used steam and it helped a little. I still feel like crapsters, though, and I missed more work than I have time allotted for that, which hadn’t happened in a while and was quite annoying. It’s like my illnesses all hang out and try to figure out who gets to like jump me first. No, no, depression it was your turn LAST week, now let’s give stomach a try. No he had it before. What about me, the bladder – you know the one that – er – leaks. Okay, we’ll let you in, because the cough and that leak thing go together. Yay!
Where was I? Oh, right, sick. You know just when you think you have it all under control, one of those guys pops up. Or better, a new one comes in. Remember how in that emo post I wrote last time I mentioned Lice and other Holiday Tales? Well, yeah, lice came to visit. I hate bugs in general, but bugs that are like, ON YOU? Yeah, that’s beyond awful. So we treated Thing Two and then treated her again and then oh whew and then Thing One got it so we treated her and again and then later . . . they were back. Cause Thing One has very thick, curly hair and my husband and I have very little patience for combing with those awful combs that couldn’t go through a doll’s hair. But I had something up my sleeve. Research. That’s what I do, unless, you know, it’s for a post. So I found this comb, and wow it is like the Allah of Combs judging from what must be real reviews because these reviews were super intense. These people have war stories. So I ordered it.
Guess what Amazon Prime is late on getting to my house? Yup. I WANT MY COMB AMAZON.
So things have not been going that well for me. I was afraid I would never be funny again. This was my greatest fear here, not like dying of CRUD which I kinda thought I might a couple times cause holy crap it’s awful. But yeah, it’s humor, you got to have it. And when I wasn’t able to write, well that was lousy – uh – wrong word. But here I am, writing, and I don’t have a plan to it (did you pick up on that yet?) and it only has one pic in it which I had stored but hey I did it. Cause people have been looking at older posts of mine. So then I check them out. And I laugh because I like my own stuff. But also because it is memories of my life, like with my kids, my work, with me. And the sicks aren’t going to get me. Okay they will, but not like forever there will be days when I’m not sick of some sort! Or have bugs! Possibly! But also if I don’t write then I will not get to expose the really stupid people who have lately been commenting on my old posts. Do you remember booger guy? The one who corrected my grammar on a post about boogers? Well, there’s more of that kind of snot, get ready.
Eventually. Because there are people extremely concerned about my virtual family, a heretical Christmas song post, my knowledge of Sophia the First. Etc. But at any rate, I am trying. So the best thing you could do is not say you are sorry for me because life is life. We all have crap. Heck, our whole country got one big piece of it today, but I didn’t see any of it, or care, cause I was sick. So there are some good things about sick, I guess.
Please like and follow and comment because just one like or follow or comment could save this sad puppy from the horrors of this post.
It has been raining here in Texas for the last three days. A hard, steady rain that just keeps going, making marshland of my yard, making the days dark. This part of Texas is not supposed to have rain like this. We are semi-arid, which means desert plus occasional flash floods and tornadoes. No wonder the people at Seattle Grace Hospital have so many problems. The rain. Rain killed McDreamy.
I mention to my Thing One, “There are more suicides in Seattle than Alaska. Cause snow reflects light and rain doesn’t. Fun fact!”
Thing One: I’m getting you some sugar, Mom.
I’m not suicidal. I’m just here. I have ups and downs. Right now it is down. I wish it would stop raining. I don’t like going out in it. But I need a soda. It’s not crack, okay, I just want it? Sorry, I thought you were my doctor there. I put on my coat and boots and wade to my car while the rain pours down. I get in and sit in the car for a moment while it runs. I finally get out of park.
I try McDonald’s cause you don’t have to get out of the car. They seem mysteriously closed. Is it the storm? Did they all quit at once? Whatever it is inconvenient for me. I drive back to Allsups which is closer to my house but I now must walk in. I am wearing the clothes I wore two days ago. Plus a sweater I washed with pink so now it is white-ish pink. Call me Hello Kitty.
I walk in. I get a soda on sale, the TALLSUP, get it? Cause it’s big. And I choose Sprite not cause I like it that much but because it’s late and maybe without the caffeine I might sleep though I doubt it cause naps. But then I think I would like some water. Cold water. I will spoil myself with cold water. I walk over and look at the water. There are lots of kinds of water that probably come out of the tap. I stare. And stare. And choose one.
I walk to the snacks. I wonder if the lady at the cash register is watching me. I look awesome. It’s been a while since I washed my hair, and I scratch my head since one of the kids came home with lice a couple months ago. Christmas Special coming up. Lice and Other Holiday Tales. I go to the counter. The lady is bald, totally bald, no stubble like that chick who sang “Nothing compares to youuuuu.” I wonder if she has Cancer or is purposely bald. She asks me if I am having a good day. Did she sound concerned?
I say, “Yeah.”
I was feeling a little down and maybe a teensy bit scared what with the country supposedly electing a giant orange cheeto racist sexist xenophobic highly dangerous manbaby to office. Then, bit by bit, I started letting myself watch political comedy. It’s where I get most of my news because at least they deliver it with less of a blow.
Well as much as possible as one can do that.
Anyway, I realized that I didn’t have to just hide in my blanket fort. That’s not because things are all better now. It’s not because everything is going to be okay. It’s because you have to survive somehow, and I’ve survived quite a few unfunny things including chronic illness, depression, and anxiety with humor. My post about my pneumonia got some of the best responses ever. I was hilarious in my suffering. Okay, not so much at the time. But when you look at life, there is madness, there is cruelty, but there is also that hope and love crap, and there is always a certain degree of the absolute ridiculous. We live in Wonderland, now more than ever.
You might be asking “But, Alice, how can you call the crappery he is dishing out humorous? He wants to register Muslims! He wants to reverse all progress on civil rights! He influences people to write “Trump” on Starbucks cups!” Some people have talked about how to handle this. Donate to a planned parenting clinic, or a support center for gay rights, or whatever other thing he’s planning on destroying in the next few years. And that’s a good thing, but for me, I want something that gives people like our president-elect more of a kick in the . . . pants.
More on that in a bit. I watched a clip of the Late Show, where Stephen Colbert, like so many of the rest of us, possibly even like Trump himself, is trying to make sense of what just happened. No one knows, but the good thing is that while some of the stuff Trump wants to do, or at least is not opposed to doing, is truly horrible, there is quite a bit that is truly stupid, and as you know, I like to laugh at stupid people.
Here’s just a few:
Twitter: The dufus is still tweeting. And his tweets are just as intellectual as ever. Like in response to the protests in the street, there was “Unfair.” When a reporter asked one of his representatives why he was still tweeting, the man replied “Because it relaxes him.” Right. Ever thought of giving him a puzzle? Maybe cookies and juice? A nice long nap? No? Okay let him tweet.
Alone time: Trump tried to sneak out for a private dinner, avoiding the reporters. This would have been easier without the line of secret service cars running along with him. You know how you wanted to be in the spotlight? Now you are! Every single second! Enjoy!
Starbucks: Trump supporters, unhappy that the CEO of Starbucks endorsed Hillary Clinton, have decided to tell Starbucks employees to write “Trump” on their cups by way of protest. Yes, you heard right. They are boycotting a coffee house by buying more overpriced coffee. Nevermind the complete logic gap, what I find most amusing is that there are still Trump supporters. I have something to say to these very confused people.
Psst: You won. You can stop now.
What they don’t seem to realize is that, like when Obama was elected, people must eventually accept the peaceful transfer of power. But they don’t have to enjoy it, and they don’t have to be nice about it either. Yes, throwing bottles and lighting things on fire are not good, but for the most part, the protests have been peaceful. And there is more than one way to protest. As Trevor Noah of The Daily Show said, while we cannot block this idiot, we can troll him.
And troll we will. After one comedy show, I saw this comment, and I think it is awesome.
“The jokes are better now than they were for the last three months. Trump’s Presidency is going to be one hilarious moment after another until will all die.”
Think of it like a water slide. There are going to be lots of twists and turns and you’re gonna hit some obstacles like say giant razor blades, but you don’t know when they are coming because you can’t see too far ahead, and you don’t want to, so you might as well enjoy the ride while you can. And as far as the fear that Trump raises in people, fear I do not laugh at, I have this to say.
Trump wants all Muslims to register? Here’s the plan. It’s so simple, that I wish I had thought of it. We all register Muslim. Every one of us. Of course we aren’t all really Muslim, but let him figure out which ones are which, and see how well that goes. Even Megyn Kelly was freaked out about the idea of basing a registry of a group of people off the freaking Japanese Internment camps. Same lady who argued that Santa and Jesus were white!. If she’s freaked out, then a lot of other people are going to be as well.
That up there – registering as Muslim to protect other Muslims, is not a hashtag. It’s an action. And there are more actions you can take. Remember how I mentioned you could donate to threatened organizations like Planned Parenthood or the Human Rights Campaign? You totally should donate – even if it’s a dollar – and then, just like the Starbucks people, you should donate in someone else’s name.
Like Trump. Or Pence. Or anybody else you want. They’ll get a thank you card in the mail. And won’t they be pleased! You can even do this for your alt-right friends and family at Christmas, though I recommend not actually being there when the gift arrives. Remember many of these people have guns.
So we aren’t helpless here. We are in an awful situation, but we are not helpless. And to those who are most at risk, they do not have to be alone. Because we are America. And we can stand together to protect those who need it. But don’t forget to get your jollies in at the same time.
Trump and Pence and their cronies are going to make a lot of people they hate very happy this year.
Yes, it’s me. I’m still here. And this – this is still happening. But don’t worry, for I am not scared. No, I don’t have tickets to Canada to live with their free health care and hottie Prime Minister, importance not necessarily in that order. But I have protection. Witness the aforementioned blanket fort.
Notice that it is stocked with all needed provisions for the next four years. I have a bottle of cola, pop tarts, microwave popcorn, pillows, blankets, Disney movies, and animal familiars for possible future witchcraft. Thanks to Thing Two for her assistance with my safe house here. Thing one was busy at the high school musical, Beauty and the Beast. She was the star. She played a spoon. I think there was some chick named Belle in there too.
More on that later.
I had to pick her up, and the fort was still there, and my husband was due home from church. So I called him and explained that there was a blanket fort in the living room. It went like this.
Me: Hi, honey, there’s a blanket fort in the living room.
Husband: A what?
Me: A blanket fort. I have to go pick up Thing One, but we’ll clean it up later.
Husband: A blanket floor?
Me: There’s a mess in the living room. Be back soon!
So I got my daughter from her very last performance. I think you need to understand exactly what these costumes are like. As soon as I get some pictures back (I didn’t have my camera with me of course) I will post them (with her lovely face blanked out) because you have to see this thing. Think giant, thick, board (real board not that cardboard stuff) made in the shape of a spoon, strapped to her back in several places, with the spoon head sticking out far over her head. She danced in this thing. I can’t even imagine. On the plus side, her posture should be great now.
And I have to say, I enjoyed the play immensely. Now this may be a surprise, but I sort of like Disney, especially this particular movie. And the Broadway version is way better. But I had my doubts as these were high school kids who dealt with a change in directors in the very middle of a musical that involves a heavy amount of dancing and singing in big numbers because this is Disney and they do everything on speed.
Yet they surprised me, to my delight. Everything was fabulous. Gaston was short, but they even put in jokes about that. At one point his wig was knocked partly off – he tossed it back on and kept going. I missed the second performance when the beast lost his wig after being stabbed by Gaston, and Belle fell upon him in despair, and probably to cover up the wig mishap while the kids backstage stifled laughter. But honestly, mostly this was a grade A performance. Belle was incredible. The Beast was incredible. The whole cast was amazing and the story and sets fabulous.
I was informed by Thing Two that the sister of a friend came close to playing the part of Belle, but did not get it because “Miss Perfect” did (can’t fault her there, that girl can sing, dance, act, and she’s pretty – some people hit the genetic lottery). Anyway, the poor girl had to become a napkin.
“You can tell which one she is,” Thing Two explained. “She’s the most disappointed looking dancing napkin out there.”
I, however, was transfixed through the whole thing, even when my spoon wasn’t on stage. My husband, brave man that he is, shifted a lot in his seat. Father of the Year for sitting through not one but two of these three-hour performances.
But I guess this brings me back to how it is the arts that can bring us away from where we are, no matter how horrible we feel that place is. For three hours, I forgot about the election, about the problems in the world, about everything else. I was in another world, and I laughed, and I cried, at every bit of it. But when my daughter, my spoon, came out on stage for her numbers, afterward I clapped so hard with pride that my hands hurt.
This is what will get us through. Writing, humor (sometimes through choked back bile), books, movies . . . and of course, a blanket fort for protection. Here I am, watching from my fort.
I may look a bit like Snoopy from the Red Baron mixed up with Ferris from his day off, but I’m still here, darn it. I may be reporting on events from this location for a while. Probably not political events because I am still in the denial stage of grief where I pretend “The Happening” never occurred. But still reporting. Never give up, never surrender.
Never forget pop tarts and coke while hiding in your blanket fort.