MidwesternCountryUrbanLiberalWoman. Pass her a gin and tonic and a PBR. She wants to salsa

I was a thespian in a rural highschool but not a very good one. I don't like performing in front of people unless I'm kindy tipsy. My bestfriend in highschool was one too, but he was much better. We spent our times in arthouse cinemas, bookstores, and at improv shows. Lastnight was a lot like those times of yore except he was driving and we ended up getting sloshed with youngsters (20somethings).

We started the night in KC at a Christmas musical version of Carrie done in drag. I had at least 3 drinks by the time we left there. I had one before we left his place. I think that was the only way I could sit through the entire thing without getting bored. I think the majority of the audience not related to the troupe felt the same way considering the lines to the restrooms during the intermission. Like all venues the ladies' room was way too small without an adequate number stalls. I decided that since I technically have only one tit and hair shorter than most guys that I could go into the gent's room. Kinda manish, kinda womanish. I love the laidback attitude towards sex and expression that culture has. I made three flaming guys giggle when I informed them of my revelation and physical landscape. The show had both male and females drag performers, so I'm guessing the assumption in the small venue was that I was either butch dike or semi-drag boy. ahh, sexual ambiguity!

The next stop couldn't have been further away from that sub-culture. We went to a small blue-collar, redneck bar in Merriam where we met up with a bunch of younger absolutely delightful 20-26 year olds. The best singers in the bar where these large women who sat in an unhappy pack until they'd get up and belt out with passion that the queens at the last place would have been jealous of. Yes, I ended a sentence with "of", Gypsy. After dancing, karoake, lastcall, and finding delight with the fact that I was the oldest woman in group with the most men and boys (11 years younger than me) hitting on me, we took off for more dancing at the big big gay bar in KC. I'm not homopobic, but I hate hate hate gay dance music! There is no soul! Just boom boom boom. Read thrust thrust thrust. Read I want to swing my hips and spin in circles! That was not going to happen with that music.

After that we ended up in a Mexican restaurant till the wee hours of the morning. That restuarant is my absolute fav in Mexican cuisine! They have the only Haurache in town, the best Al Pastor I've had anywhere, and you can see little kids even uptil 11 pm. Even there we were accepted by the overly maked-uped and fantastically dressed crowd. My only beef with them and all Mexican places is that they don't serve hot tea. That and for some reason my girlfriend's boyfriend (he works there) kept putting on that horrible song that repeats "you're beautiful" over and over and over. three times. annoying. I'm going to have to talk to her about her choices in sappy men.

So. My conclusion is...I love my upbringing for certain things. My family was working class with a tinge of middleclass. we lived in the country, and they were very conservative and religious. However! As soon as I got my car, my friends and I headed for Midtown and Lawrence to broaden our experiences. So. Now I can easily go in a lot of different societies and do fine. Well, I do prefer not to be around conservative types, but, hey, I can chameleon my ass in them for a few minutes at a time before my "uniquenesses" show up.

Crazy Lady's Pre-Holiday Musings

I have too many reasons to be thankful. PinkZilla and the lack of cancer are on the top of that list. I have a lot, but I want to save them for my chillins to hear. Plus I think it's holiday cheese.

I have 2 requests for this season. Time and Space. I have things to get done if I'm going to become a woman with no regrets. I'm getting there slowly.

I'm experiencing feelings that I have only felt while premenstrual. That leads me to the conclusion that I must be going crazy, but at least I'm getting things done. These things are awful and only done during those times. Things like (ick) housecleaning and checkbook balancing. My poor Frankenstien Artmuse is being neglected because of the holiday cleaning frenzy. I can hear her crying in the backroom.

Am I maturinng or just hormonal? I feel like I'm on coke half the time and the other half I feel like I'm on valium. I'm not on anything but a hormone blocking drug, and I'm drinking only one cup of coffee and only one beer daily. These energy swings are why I think I appear crazy to everyone who doesn't know me....well, maybe to those who know me too. I just hope I can control the moodswingin' when Thursday hits and my family and my brother's wife's family come over for dinner.

I am hormonal, but I can tell that I'm maturing. I willfully bought loose jeans. I'm wearing them right now. My ass is covered and the seams don't look like they'll rip at any moment. Eeesh mom pants. I swear though, I will never be the mom that wears pumpkin sweaters, moose sweatshirts, pinetree blouses, pleated light blue (not faded) jeans, or tan (not cargo) slacks. If I do, I give you Goddesses permission to perform a fashion intervention. If that doesn't work try beheading, but after I get my will in place please.

Now on to my behavior disclaimer as if this whole thing hasn't been one until now. Before chemo I had social filters that only worked sporadically, and now they don't seem to be working at all. So if I start beligerently ranting nonsense, please feel free to calm me down. Just say "Hey, Crazy Lady!" and throw something preferably soft at my head. If I say anything ridiculous at all you may throw something at me too. Just make sure I'm not ranting political or social or you might get the thing thrown right back at your head.

Happy Thanksgiving! As you might have guessed this was conceived before Turkeyday. I hope you all had a good one!

Ultra Fancy Body Bubbles

Today I had 2 doctor appointments. I really don't want to see Olathe Med center for awhile. The next time is in 2 weeks. I should be paying rent there. However, there's good news on the boob front. I'm the "January Girl" for this ultra new, ultra fancy tit insert that doctors are for some reason only allowed to give out in small quantities each month.

What makes it fancy is that the custom fit is better than with the regular cc mode (more shapes for each size), there's less of a chance for rippling, and the silicone gel adheres to itself so if any problem arises the goo will stay put clinging to itself inside the tissue envelope that forms around the implant.

January seems like a long time away, but Ha ha! I'm on the December waiting list. So if another doctor in the KC area doesn't need the implant then the person next on the waiting list gets. Unfortunately, there are so many recons going on that it seems unlikely that I'd get it. Hmmm....that many? What the F is going on?

The next thing is about the small bubble residing on my neck. But that's just it. It's just a bubble. Small and annoying but the doctors feel it's benign. After this past summer I don't think it could be C. I had a very very hard time typing that sentence. I don't want to jinx myself.

So happier subjects! Bigger Boob Bubbles, one small thyroid bubble, and one small cold to blow small snot bubbles! I'm estatic!

Whisky List

I originally wanted to comment on Gypsy's blog, but I feel that this will be too long.

Lists. I made one last night after a rather listless night of working on artwork. Wednesdays are my solitude/creativity day, but it wasn't working. I got so frustrated I ended up crying and boohooing my lack of talent and direction. Cry Baby. Cry Baby. Wah wah wah.

The old folks and the kiddos came home from their midweekly brainwashing session at church. And all the tension and anxiety I felt kept building. One kid wanted me to hear him read while the other kept bawling about nobody liked her because noone was paying attention to her. All I wanted was to relax and concentrate on an 8 year old reading some silly story involving cat warriors and their adventures in the forests of where ever. I have to mention the sausage/football creature that serves as a pet trying to simultaneously bite and lick my fingers and nose off during the entire exchange of "Stop touching me!" "Nobody likes me! You hate me!" "Bark!" "Oww!" "Quit it!" "Bark!" Then I'd look around my room and see the surviving confetti of my life that escaped the mass cleaning of the piled up shit that's accumulated since living here. My mood darkened.

It's my fault. I'm a slob, and when I start on project I lose all sense of cleanliness. MUST...DO...ART...UUGH... That's the Frankenstien art monster that lives in my head that serves as a my muse's voice. It's funny. My muse is a creature made of a hodgepodge of bodyparts hastily put together and is the result of an opiate induced literary bet of some repressed Victorians.

Ok. Lists and whisky. After getting the chillins to bed I poured myself a rather tall 3 finger whisky and coke to soothe my frazzled nerves and boost creative juices. Yes. I drink alone. I admit it. Not the point of the story though. I made the list to get a real grasp of what I have been doing and where I am going with this "art". I collected everything within view and jotted down the pieces, numbered them, described them in detail, and named a few. I surprised mysellf. I have 14 projects going. And some are series. None of them are finished. Some are close, but not any where "complete". Artists never feel fully "complete". That's a good thing. It means complacency is no where near. I made a daily schedule to push myself into finishing them, and started on it late last night. We'll see if I actually stick with it.

Like a few others I know, I don't do well with authority or rules even if the authority and rulemaker is me. Damn destructive behavior. I need...(Don't ever tell the Old Folks that I said this!)..some discipline. (heebie jeebies) Hopefully this new trick of keeping lists and notes for my memory will keep me from losing focus and drifting into another project.

Calloo! Callay! I'm clean! I'm clean! 2 doctors gave me 2 clean bills of health. Now on to the next 2!

My primary doctor is awesome. She's 36 and smart and sassy. I love her. She meditates. She's in Johnson County! Olathe! The place that was used as an example of neocon religous assholes successfully overtaking the government on all levels. A friend of mine in Boston read an article about it up there. He called to tell me that he was happy about not being down here. Yet! It was here that I found someone sane!

Another reason why she's delightful...she laughs at jokes like...

This year I've had more people feel up my tits than I've ever had before, and I don't even have a partner!

You gotta love a doctor who can laugh at that.

I love my ex-mother-in-law. I heard that "huhn?". My ex-mother-in-law (Tennessee Tilly to me, Yaya to the kids) has cute little sayings all over her house in the forms of old vintage ads or products and cutesy little crafty crap hung on the walls. She has a few that I love. They make me smile and remember to put the backbone in every morning I wake up. I can't remember them ALL. That's impossible. They're collectors in every sense of the word. I'm just going to give you a few that I like.

Old age and trickery will overcome youth and skill.

Old age isn't for sissies.

The queen is not accepting an audience today.

Drive slow. Let the little shavers grow.

Street girls bringing in sailors must register at the front desk.
This is a real sign issued from Alexandria, VA city commission during WWII and is framed on their wall next to other old posters with the same theme.

As you can imagine. She has a sense of humor perfect for a little old lady who drinks at least 2 whisky-on-the-rocks precisely at 5 everyday. She's constantly sending me silly forwarded emails that should have the trumpet wah wah waah sound effect attached to them, and for some of the other kinds if you listen closely you'll hear the national anthem being played while some poor patriotic sap is wiping snot from their nose.

She rarely helps out or anything, but I'm fine with that because then she doesn't obligate me to anything and that makes our relationship a little more honest. I take that back. She does help. Her help is the same help that she gave me a long time ago when me and PA were teenagers. She's a sanctuary from the Old Folks' Home. She's a hoot but not a good babysitter. (whisky at 5 sharp EVERY night come hell or high water just check out what's in her plastic coke bottle)

Here's to one of the many interesting women in my life!

For this morning's blogging I feel that I should recap my weekend. It was fantastic and eye opening. And at times eye closing followed quickly by another eyeopener. Friday started off interesting. Nothing major expect one huge blow up between me and grandpa regarding my Zilla and some "defiance" that supposedly he was acting upon. Stressful, yes, but I went out that day dead set on having a great day. I have awesome kids. I'm biased, but I know they're great.

But that particular bitch-a-thon isn't the point of this entry.

I went to the First Fridays with a friend of mine. We saw a rather silly shadow puppet play complete with hippy jazzy band and silly narrator. He called us out for leaving early, but hey! there was Borat to go see and we were not going to be late for that!

Here I must advertise. You should go see Borat. I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants. The audience at one point laughed continuously for at least five to ten minutes. I looked around at the them. Everyone had tears and were holding their sides. It was literally the funniest movie that I've seen in long time. And to make sure I feel that way for a long long time, I will not ever see it again. Don't get me wrong. I loved every minute of it. It was shocking, offensive, and you could tell Sacha Cohen wasn't awful just ...edgy. I think I love it for almost the same reason I love John Waters. Sick wrong humor.

Later that I night I met lovely people at a bar. I talk more now to folk since this shitty C thing's happened. One particular arteest-boy got me thinking about my work and the direction it's going. "Why is it going there? What is it that makes it Yours?" Simple questions but very thought provoking. I need to be able to articulate these things if I ever want to show and sell.

I ended up not meeting cute arteest-boy at the next bar. I didn't feel like it. I had other things on my mind rather than flirting. I had things to think about. I got home and tried to think about those things, but I kept having a few images popping up in my mind all night. Every time I woke up to turn over, pull blankets on or off depending upon heat flashing, get a sip of water, or go to the bathroom. I'm up a lot at night if you can't tell. fuck. Unfortunately I can't tell you what these images are. You have to see the movie. But then I warn you...you'll be woken up by those images in the middle of the night too.

Halloween is over. That's supposed to be a holiday that celebrates the Heebee-jeebies. This is not the case for me. It's only a precursor to a more frightening date for me. November 1st signifies two things for me. First of all, it's my wedding anniversary. (shudder) Secondly, it's the month where I found IT...looking back at me in the mirror from its place on my tit. (yet another shudder) These two things have changed my favorite month into a horrifying symbol of deadly things in my life.

That sucks because it's absolutely beautiful outside with just enough chill to get me invigorated for Life and not enough to go scurry back under my covers. Once wintery cold starts to set in, I'm good. I want to be out in it just like the summertime heat...if I start out early in the morning.

So, I have conflicting feelings this morning. Isn't that just like a Pisces?

I love this time of year, but I dread it too. It signifies my mortality, life continuing, my internal strength (stubborness!), and the clothes are much better! Not to mention I love the animal activity in the skies and on the ground, the flowering plants, colorful grasses, and the changing leaves. So many great things that somehow get clouded over by two shitty things.

Well, I have to admit it's only partly cloudy and with NO chance of precipitation.