Monday, July 14, 2008

You're not my best man till I see some sword work

Last night I was at a wedding (yay Mar and Tony!) rather drunkenly trying to explain this article I read on Mental Floss a couple of weeks ago.
It's about the weirdo (and violent and misogynistic and patriarchal and superstitious and frankly, gross) origins of modern wedding traditions.

They're pretty crazy so you have to describe them with authority to make people believe you, which I don't think I was. I got a lot of incredulous looks especially when I talking about throwing the bouquet and the garter belt. But lo and behold!!
It used to be that after the bride and groom said, “I do,” they were to go immediately into a nearby room and “close the deal” and consummate the marriage. Obviously, to really make it official, there would need to be witnesses, which basically led to hordes of wedding guests crowding around the bed, pushing and shoving to get a good view and hopefully to get their hands on a lucky piece of the bride’s dress as it was ripped from her body. Sometimes the greedy guests helped get the process going by grabbing at the bride’s dress as she walked by, hoping for a few threads of good fortune. In time, it seems, people realized that this was all a bit, well… creepy, and it was decided that for modesty’s sake the bride could toss her bouquet as a diversion as she made her getaway and the groom could simply remove an item of the bride’s undergarments and then toss it back outside to the waiting throngs to prove that he was about to, uh, get ‘er done.

So, yeah, believe it people!

Please!!! Be cautious about bringing this new knowledge up at weddings. Do not start this convo with any of the bridal party or close relatives, and no girls that you saw crying while the father of the bride walked her down the isle. That's a buzz kill.
You also have to be careful not to end up sounding like an early 90s women's studies major at a safe sex party dressed as a dental dam. Because while I'm more than aware that walking the bride down the isle is, 'just a tiny, barbaric little hold over from the days when daughters were nothing but dollar signs to daddy dearest.' You're no fun to party with if you say patriarcy too much.
These are lessons I've learned the hard way.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

So embarassed

I think I've said before that one of the ways I augment my cash flow is by participating in paid market research groups. It's hit or miss but they typically pay out $100 for an hour or 2 which is obvi great. Unless you make that much hourly from your real job, in which case you should think about buying me some drinks.

Tonight I was in one to test a text messaging game that you could play in real time while you're watching this season's Big Brother. Yes I watch a lot of reality tv, but you should know that among hard core reality tv viewers, Big Brother is king. The fans are completely and totally rabid and I would usually not advertise the fact that I walk among them. So it was a very strange feeling to be in a room filled with 15 of them.

First of all they made everyone wear a name badge which also had the name of their favorite BB winner. As soon as I sat down the guy next to me, looked at me, said, "Lisa?" made a scoffing noise and said, "everyone here is in the Dr. Will camp so you're out numbered."
Hello to you too, sir.

After some bizaro talk about who likes Julie Chen and which former house guests have been in gay porn they showed a sample episode and had us play the text game. I'm embarassed to say I was waaaaaaaay ahead for the whole time, completly enraging the comic book guy looking guy. Fortunately/unfortunately I was beat out in the last 2 questions by this other bitch.

It all ended happily though when they handed me my check. Yay money!!

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

I think we all blocked it out as a nation the 1st time

I've been totally caught up in the 'holy shit' of the "world's first pregnant man", Thomas Beatie, ever since I saw him on Oprah (yes I'm mentioning Oprah again, I think I may institute a once a post Oprah appearance). In fact I've been stalking the story online like it was the Austrian basement story. Or the one about the girl who sat on her boyfriend's toilet for 2 years. (Make sure you click on the link to learn 'how can skin become fused to a toilet seat').

Wait, what? Let me get back on topic - pregnant men! In my searching and stalking I found an article in the Village Voice from 2000 (8 years ago!!!) about a family consisting of not one FTM transsexual but TWO! TWO!
...we are both transgendered men (female-to-male or FTM), and my boyfriend is the mother of my child.
Hello Dolly! Of course they lived, and live right here in the Bay Area! And as I've always said about living here, no matter what people tell you their deal is, you just need to go ahead and be cool with it. Otherwise you're judgmental. That's why when someone says,
I investigated sex reassignment in my twenties, but was discouraged by the poor quality of genital surgery and terrified of the isolation. I wasn't sure I could separate the effects of misogyny from gender dysphoria. So I tried to be a different kind of woman, a sexually adventurous gender-fucking dyke who enjoyed every possible male prerogative. But it just wasn't enough.
I understand.
Sometimes being a sexually adventurous gender-fucking dyke who enjoys every possible male prerogative is enough. And some times it's not.

Anyway read the article, here's the link again. I mean anything that was going on before George Bush was even President can't be that shocking.
Right? Or am I getting screwy from living here so long?
No I think I'm right.

Adorable!

New in ANTM

Yes, I hate Tyra Banks as much as you do, but come on, how hysterical that she's now immortalized in wax at Madam Tussauds in DC. They got a little confused though and put her in the 'glamor room'. Hopefully they'll clear everything up and have her moved to the 'love to hate' room or the 'I know Oprah Winfrey and you, ma'am are no Oprah Winfrey' room or the 'take a hint from this wax dummy and shut your cake hole' room. Oh, I could go on and on, but I kid, I kid. Without ANTM my life would be dark and blurry because I'd have no idea how to let the light hit my face. So thank Tyra.

I'm also ready to admit that I want to go and have my picture taken with her. Though I can't decide if I want to 'smile with my eyes' or just be fierce. Ideas?

Related, if you can take, it check out the cover story about Ms. Banks in the June 1st NY Times Mag. She has 275 smiles, people, how many do you have???
.......................................................................................................

Okay, too much Tyra! Check out my girl Dani, my favorite ANTM winner from, oh I don't know, cycle 1000 or something. Please it was 3 years ago, who can remember that far back! She's the new face of Tory Burch (!) who I've never heard of, probably because after some web searching it appears that she only dresses old, rich, white ladies, from the East Coast. Though this season she seems to have branched out to old, white, ladies who take a lot of acid.

Anyway! Good for you, Dani! They may have taken the gap in your teeth but they can never take your spirit!
Well it kind of looks like they might have taken a little of it, based on this picture. Don't be afraid to flaunt what's left of that gap, girl, and work those old lady clothes!


I would also like to point anyone who's at all interested to my abso favorite ANTM blogger, Rich, at fourfour.

Monday, July 7, 2008

Awesome! But also corny, and maybe a little gross














This weekend
, 4th of July weekend, Philadelphia's most popular Ben Franklin impersonator, Ralph Archbold and (I think) the only Betsy Ross impersonator, Linda Wilde got hitched! For reals!

If you've never been to Philadelphia in the summer; the parks dept hires people to walk around the historic Liberty Bell/Independence Hall area in historic garb. This is unfortunate for said historic people because in 1776 it seems people only wore
wool, and like, many pounds of it. Neck to ankle to wrist, plus WIGS!

Archbold is pretty famous as Ben Franklin and does impersonator gigs all over the Delaware Valley. In fact Wilde met him when, for some reason, she hired him to make a toast at her friend's wedding. Sounds like a wild party.

I waited on him a bunch of times when I worked at a breakfast restaurant near Constitution Plaza. He is a very sweaty historical personage. And a bad tipper.

However, they still get my mazel tov because WHAT ARE THE FUCKING CHANCES!!!
Mayor Nutter married them and yes, the guys who play Thomas Jefferson and George Washington were at the reception.
Yes, in costume.

Sunday, July 6, 2008

Aggregator? I just met her.

No original thought here, I just wanted to share some fascinating interweb finds from the past 2 weeks. Some of them are kind of long reads (like this post) but there's no fluff. 100% satisfaction, 100% of the time, that's my motto!






First a pretty short one - This article from the NYTimes about the dying, rural, northern, Albanian custom of women who swear a vow of celebacy and become the man of the house is one of the most interesting things I've ever read, ever. Def check out the slide show.

'Back then, it was better to be a man because before a woman and an animal were considered the same thing,' said Ms. Keqi, who has a bellowing baritone voice, sits with her legs open wide like a man and relishes downing shots of raki.
................................................................................................

Actually, likewise this article in the New Yorker about itching. Well it's about itching but mostly about a new way of looking at how our brains percieves visual, tactile, aural...information and turn it in to what we consider our 'perception' of the outside (and inside) world.

The account of perception that’s starting to emerge is what we might call the “brain’s best guess” theory of perception: perception is the brain’s best guess about what is happening in the outside world. The mind integrates scattered, weak, rudimentary signals from a variety of sensory channels, information from past experiences, and hard-wired processes, and produces a sensory experience full of brain-provided color, sound, texture, and meaning. We see a friendly yellow Labrador bounding behind a picket fence not because that is the transmission we receive but because this is the perception our weaver-brain assembles as its best hypothesis of what is out there from the slivers of information we get. Perception is inference.

That may all sound like a lot of blah, blah, blah... but there's also a story of a woman who has a phantom itch soooooo bad that one night while sleeping she scratches right through her damn skull TO HER BRAIN. Then, because they can't find anything physically, medically, wrong with her scalp to explain the itch, she ends up spending 2 years in a locked medical ward sleeping in a foot ball helmet with white mitts taped on to her hands!!!! Now 7(!) years later,

...she has gradually learned to protect herself. She trims her nails short. She finds ways to distract herself. If she must scratch, she tries to rub gently instead. And, if that isn’t enough, she uses a soft toothbrush or a rolled-up terry cloth. "I don’t use anything sharp,” (BUT)...Still, the itching remains a daily torment. "I don’t normally tell people this," she said, "but I have a fantasy of shaving off my eyebrow and taking a metal-wire grill brush and scratching away."

The article is 8 pages long buy how can you not read it?????

................................................................................................

Behold!!! The most thought-provoking article you'll ever read about real dolls. Seriously, ah-mazing. It's from Salon from a couple years ago but I can't imagine much has changed besides some of the technology. I've been talking about this with anyone who will listen all week, and here's a little gem my boyfriend have been acting out ad nauseum all week-

"He asked me if I could make him a silicone dog, because he was a breeder, and he didn't want to hurt his dogs anymore, he said. He talked like right out of the movie 'Deliverance.'" ..."'Aw, I don't want to hurt ma dawgs, I like ma dawgs ... kin you make me one so ah kin still use it fer the sex?' And when I realized that he was legitimate, I was shocked. And I just politely said no, I'm sorry, gotta go, click."

................................................................................................

The Washington Post has a great article about the burgeoning use of ecstasy to help treat post traumatic stress disorder. PTSD is one of the hidden costs of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Even the Pentagon acknowledges that at least 50,000 soldiers (4% of those deployed) are affected, and their care, long term, is extremely expensive. PTSD sufferers make up only 8% of veteran's medical claims, but receive 20% of all payouts. Also, their therapeutic use could hasten ecstasy's legal, recreational use. Yay for all of us!


................................................................................................

The pregnant man gave birth!!!!!!!

Any excuse to show Oprah.




................................................................................................



In honor of 4th of July (which is already over, I know) here's a totally rad article from the Atlantic about competitive eating.

“Nostradamus, born in the early sixteenth century, actually mentioned the Grilled Cheese Championship in his poetic yet cryptic quatrains,” George Shea says. “He said, ‘And at one point under the bright sky they shall gather to eat, they shall gather to eat the cheese that has been pouched in bread and grilled!”

Yes it's competitive eating season. This article is also a little old but what the hey, you'll never have to read another article about esophagus stretching again, it's the definitive one!! Please, please, for my sake take a moment to really apreciate the seal of the International Federation of Competitive Eating. I don't know what genius created it but they have officially sold me on the 'sport'.

................................................................................................

One time 2 of my friends and I were doing a township clean up in high school for some extra money but there were so many ticks they let us go home early. Ticks are freaky. We went to a dinner to get grilled cheeses and check ourselves in the bathroom for hidden ticks - I had 9, and my friend Robbie had one on his junk. Lymes disease is no joke people, didn't you watch Real World Seattle??????

So, the secret life of a tick from slate, with this gem about how ticks make bacon -

The male approaches from below, then uses his mouthparts to pluck a packet of sperm called a spermatophore from his genital pore. He delivers the packet into his partner's genital pore with his hypostome, the same barbed hollow needle that he sticks into mammals....After the female drops to the ground, full of blood and sperm, she lays her eggs, and then the fun is definitely over. She begins to atrophy. Her intestines spill out in a yellow blob.

All this talk of genital pores is getting me kind of hot.
................................................................................................

This last one is just disturbing, read at your own risk.