Love Rant: The Google Chrome Commercial

I love that Google Chrome ran this ad during primetime on NBC Thursday night:


Ku.Dos.
Both to Google and NBC.
This is a pretty big deal to me.
I realize that the commercial itself is about the power of the internet, but I think it is pretty damn cool that Google showcased clips from the It Gets Better Project during the commercial.
I just love this. It's cool to see. I don't think you would have seen something like this, even a year ago.
It's really cool to me that people and companies alike finally have the balls stand up and stand with gays. Who the hell would or should care about backlash when kids think it's a better idea to kill themselves rather than be who they are?
It's cool to me that people and companies alike are realizing that we cannot continue to foster a society that drives young lives to jump off bridges-no matter if they're straight OR gay.
It fills me up with such hope that people care so much about TEACHING young people that their lives are VALUABLE. Even if they're gay. It's really cool to me, that we've come far enough in recent years that Google and NBC see more good in running an ad like this than they do in any negative backlash that might come their way.
Awesome.
Awesome.
AWE-SOME!
This makes me giddy with excitement, y'all. Seriously. I wish I could be more eloquent but I'm too damn full of emotion.

AND what I love even more about this ad, is that if it meant something powerful to me (a 20 something lesbian who's been out of the closet for over 8 years and has had nothing but positive support from friends and family) then, whoa...imagine what it meant to someone trying to come out or someone who doesn' have support.
It's just cool to see.
I am so blessed to have wonderful friends and family who've hardly batted an eye over me being gay. And that means the world to me. And I know how lucky I am. But when you're gay, even living in America, even if you have all the support in the world from friends and family, it's really easy to feel like the world at large doesn't care and would rather that you didn't exist they way you exist. It's easy to feel like you don't belong or fit in the world because of the way you are. We see so much of our lives reflected in the media, some of it more true than others, and more often than not "gay" is not reflected in the media. It's hard to find shows or movies with decently written gay characters; and that makes it hard to believe you fit in the world too. But that's changing more and more and more and it makes me so happy. It makes me so happy to know, that at least when it comes to bein' a big old queer, the world is becoming a better place for kids. And not only that but people WANT it to be a better place for kids.

My greatest hope for the world is that kids everywhere, no matter who they are-gay, straight, black or blue-won't have to think too hard about how to be who they are. They'll just do it. 'Cause it's natural.
Thanks to the It Gets Better project for tellin' 'em its ok. Let's ALWAYS tell kids its ok to be who they are.


Now, we've told our youth that is gets better. And if you ask me, we owe to them to not only promise that it gets better, but to do our best to make it better NOW.









Also, as an update...

Molly is feeling SO much better and more like herself. How can I tell?

She's back to ignoring me.

Love Rant: Swamp People

I love the TV show Swamp People on the History Channel.
Why?
I have no freakin' clue.
But it's like a bad accident...you can't look away.
And it's like Cadbury Mini Eggs...strangely addicting.

The show is about people who live on the swamp and hunt alligators.
The end.
That's all.

Every single episode is the same.
Dudes driving around in a boat, huntin' alligators.
Will they catch a bunch of alligators?
Won't they catch a bunch of alligators?
I don't know. I guess I will just have to watch to find out exactly how many alligators they catch and if they catch a really big one.

One dude on the show, gets so dirty and smelly hunting alligators, he puts bleach in his bath water to clean up at the end of the day.
Another dude on the show, in addition to being an alligator hunter is also a world champion arm wrestler.
Could I make this stuff up?
Also, I'm 99.9% sure that guy wearing overalls pictured above (the one without a shirt) does not wear underwear. Like...ever, but especially when he's wearing overalls. And that is ALL that man wears when he hunts...overalls and america bandana.

What's interesting about the show is that here and now, in the year 2011 these dudes are still hunting alligators old school style. Like, you think there would be a computer software to help locate alligators and then sleek, special gator traps to trap the alligators.
Um.
No.
These guys string up putrid pieces of chicken (apparently, that's what dem gators love to munch on) on a giant hook, leave and come back the next day to see if they've hooked a gator. And gators being gators just devour down that piece of chicken whole, and the point is to get the hook into their stomach so they'll be on the line long enough for these dudes to drive up in their boats, pull them to the surface and put a bullet in this special quarter-sized spot between their eyes because APPARENTLY thats the ONLY place you can shoot a gator to kill it. Yeah. Seriously. Happy aiming if you eve get in a rumble with an alligator and happen to carry a sidearm. Then these guys HAUL the gator into their skimpy looking boat and move on to check their next line.
And THEN as the swamp people go about their day, pulling gators off their lines and shootin' them...these dudes just ride around all day, with like...a stack of dead alligators in their boat. I'm not even kidding. There was one episode where dudes were literally tripping over dead gator bodies in the boat, to haul ANOTHER dead gator into the boat.
It's equal parts horrifying and fascinating.
And I LOVE it. And I find equal parts horrifying and fascinating that I love it so much.
I'm telling you. Go to the History Channel website. And watch an episode. You will thank me and then tell me how much you hate me.




Oh and I know what you're thinking....
"BUT AMY YOU LOVE ANIMALS SO MUCH. PLUS YOU'RE A VEGETARIAN HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY LOVE A SHOW ABOUT KILLING ALLIGATORS?!"
Um:
a) Last time I checked, not only are alligators NOT vegetarians, they're not nice carnivores. I think it has something to do with an oversized Medulla Oblongata. Or a toothache. One of the two.
b) Alligators are way over-populated in the areas these guys hunt and they HAVE to hunt the alligators to keep them from chowing down on someone's kid.
c) I want a pair of alligator skin converse sneakers. (Not really)
d) Alligators are dinosaurs. So they've pretty much already over-stayed their welcome on the party that is existence. (I don't really think that).

There. My tender, vegetarian heart has justified watching alligators die.


Also. I have never ever seen The Jersey Shore in my life and don't really care to, BUT I would love to see a Swamp People/Jersey Shore crossover episode. It should be two parts. Part 1: Snookie goes gator huntin'. Part 2:The Swamp people go fist pumpin'.

Love Rant: Pearle Vision!

So. I had to make an eye appointment to get my eyes checked. It's been about two years since I had my last exam.
Time to get them peepers a stronger set 'o' specks before I start all out Mr. Magoo-ing around town.

Upon a recommendation from my Papa, I decided to go to Pearle Vision.

So I walk in to Pearle and am greeted right away by a friendly gay man who directs me to the waiting area. The most important part is that he was friendly. I only mention he's gay because sometimes it's nice to walk in a place (especially in the suburbs) and be like, "Phew. My people." I can get a long with almost anyone. I like almost everyone. And I have a ton of patience for people. But sometimes, especially since I'm so visibly gay, it's just nice to know you won't be judged and that for a change, you won't get the "up and down" while someone tries to figure you out. Maybe this friendly gay man was secretly criticizing my barn jacket from gap kids in his head and how it didn't match my shoes BUT his friendly smile did my little ticker good.

Then the friendly gay man did all my initial tests. I am notoriously bad at the "hold still and don't blink while a poof of air is shot at your eye test" but it only took him twice for each eye to get it done. Nice shootin', dude! He also took 3D pictures of the inside of my eyeball!!! Uh...AWESOME. The insides of my eye look like OUTER SPACE!!! Don't believe me??
Observe:


EYEBALL (not my eyeball):




OUTERSPACE:


Uncanny, right? I'll refrain from discoursing on the possibility that there is an alternate universe IN OUR EYEBALLS.
For now, at least.


So then I got my peepers checked by a nice doctor. The doc showed me and explained the 3D eyeball images. That conversation went like this:
HIM: (Pointing) Ok so what you're looking at hear is eye mumbo jumbo blah blah retina blah blah nerves.
ME: *Half interrupting him, unable to contain my excitement over seeing my eye in 3D* WOW! That's awesome!!
HIM: ...yes. Yes it is quite cool. Anyway, this is your other eye part and it attaches to this and don't worry about these dots that's just the alcohol we use to clean the machine, you don't have melanoma or anything.
ME: Oh. Ok. Well that's good.
HIM: Yes.

Then the doctor sent me back to the friendly gay man to pick out frames and check out.

Ok, sometimes, when you're a tiny lesbian that looks like a 13 year old boy, it gets old constantly having to "explain" why your style is the way it is. I mean, I'm sure on some levels it's difficult for everyone to find things that fit their style and I know everyone has their hang-ups and insecurities.
BUT, occasionally, I think it's a hard thing for people to wrap their brains around that I'm not trying to be different. I'm not trying to look like a boy or a man. I'm not trying to make a statement. I'm not trying to challenge gender norms. It's a hard thing for people to understand why a girl wants to wear boy jeans or a boy shirt. I get...gender is one of the most fundamental ways of categorizing people. But, I'm not trying to do anything other than be myself and for me...that means sportin' converse sneaks and kickin' it in boy jeans.
All I want to do is exist in the world in a way that's comfortable for me. So yeah, I buy some clothes from the boys section. Yeah, my hair is super short. Yeah, I could watch Mythbusters ALL DAY LONG (and get super excited everytime something explodes) and yeah, I always carry a pocket knife.
It doesn't mean I don't like being a girl. And it doesn't mean I want to be a boy. And I'm not even trying to be ambiguous. It just means, this is me and this is how I roll. Most of the time (99.9%), it's not a problem. No one has ever been *really* ugly to me (I can count on one hand the number of times I've been called a "dyke" in a nasty way). But, especially in the suburbs...there are stares, I've seen people "titter" at me out of the corner of my eye or behind my back and one time in a restroom some chicks all out laughed at me. This sort of BS really doesn't bother me. It's actually the simple stuff that can be the most difficult...

Like...clothes shopping. I do it almost exclusively online. Because it feels weird to shop and pick out clothes in the boys section and then think, "which dressing room should I go in?"
Like...Hair cuts. I don't get bent out of shape over it, but it does get old to hear, "Oh. You like it short, huh?" Every. Single. Time. I. Get. My. Hair. Cut.

I will fully, 100% admit that most of these hang ups are completely my own. I get really insecure when I feel like I make someone uncomfortable. It's just weird to feel like you've made someone's head explode because you're a chick and asked for a number 2 razor to be taken to your hair. Is some of it in my head? Sure. Absolutely. I think a lot of everyone's insecurities are all in their brain. But it some of it real? Yup. It's gotta come from somewhere.

Anyway, all this to say...picking out eye glasses frames. Ladies frames on one side of the room. Dude frames on the other. Look, I totally get that eyeglasses are a little more utilitarian. Every pair of frames I've ever had have come from the ladies section. I'm not saying that I wanted to pick out frames from the men's section. But, well, here's what happened...

So friendly gay man asked me, "What kind of frames are you looking for?"

I pointed to my current pair of glasses and said, "Something similar, maybe I'd go with a plastic frame. But I like classy, simple and classic. Preferably black frames."

So, he starts pulling pairs off the shelf. We try this, we try that. I find a couple of half frames I like. So, we're looking at those and then he suddenly goes, "Oh honey (gay men are pretty much the only people I'm ok calling me "honey") let me check your prescription, I think it's too high for half frames."
And sure enough, dorky von dorkerton that I am...my lens will be too thick to go in half-frames. Oh well.
So we're looking some more and I start trying on some plastic frames. He starts handing me some and can tell by my reaction I'm not so hot on what I'm putting on my face. The shape of the glasses weren't right for my face, most of the plastic lens in the section kinda subtly curved up and looked dumb on me. My face is kinda square, so anything curvy looked dumb. So, I find a pair I can live with but friendly gay man can tell I only like them enough to live with them. So friendly gay man says, "Hang on. I think I have something you'll like"
And then friendly gay man then walks across the store, to the men's section and comes back with a pair of frames.

I put them on.
And they are perfect.
They are the right shape.
They fit me well.
And they are black, simple and classic.

There was something about the shape and the size that just worked on my face. The difference between men's and women's glasses in terms of style really isn't much, I get it. I'm not saying I couldn't have found SOMETHING in the women's section. That's not the point.

So, I put them on and I know they're perfect and so I say, "Perfect! Done and done!"
He he's like, "Wow, that was easy!"

And I kinda laughed but I wished I had thanked him for listening and I wished I had thanked him for knowing. I wished I had thanked him for not forcing me to say, "Eh. The feminine look doesn't do anything for me." Dude looked at me and thought to himself, "Oh. I can tell by this person's converse sneakers, loose fit jeans and jacket from gap kids that I probably shouldn't suggest the pink frames." He knew what I wanted and was willing to go to the other side of the room to get it for me. Even though what worked for me was *gasp* out of the men's section and *gasp* I'm a girl.

I really wanted to hug him. So often, I'm completely on my own when it comes to figuring out style stuff. Which is fine, most of the time I prefer it that way because most of the time the people who try to help are like, "what about the pink?" "how about a bra that boosts?" And I'm like, "Aaaaarrggg you don't get it."
I wanted to hug this guy for getting it. It might not have seemed like much to him, but to me it was pretty awesome.


I actually had fun picking out my frames AND THEN this friendly gay man was like, "I have a surprise for you!!" I was like, "TELL ME!" He's like, "YOU GET FREE SUNGLASSES!" And I was like, "THAT'S AWESOME!"
And then we went over to the sunglasses section and he asks, "What do you like?" I said, "Aviators".
So we try on some aviators and they're not really working for me. They dipped a little too low and made me look like a bee. I ask him what he thought. His reaction was kinda, "Eh."
Then I see a pair of super awesome, retro with a touch of funk Clubmaster Sunglasses. And I say, "THESE ARE AWESOME!" He says, "Oh yeah, those are great. I talked an old lady out of those earlier today, they weren't working for her."
And I put them on and THEY WERE AWESOME. So I got them. For free. Ray Bans. Ray Ban sunglasses. For free.
I had them in my pocket later that day, along with my ipod and thought to myself, "Shit, I hope I don't get mugged. I've got like $300 worth of stuff in my right jacket pocket alone! And that's not counting the 12 bucks and 10 dollar borders gift card I have in my wallet!"

So I love Pearle Vison. They are nice. They gave me free Ray Ban sunglasses. But even nicer than free sunglasses was the guy who helped me. I love people who do their job well. And I love connecting with someone and feeling like they "get" you without having to exxxxplaaaaaaain yourself. Even if it's just for a fleeting moment to pick out stupid eyeglasses frames. Thanks, friendly gay man. I'm sending you a big hug.



I will post a picture of my new frames once they come in. For now...check out my super awesome sunglasses! I asked my Dad what he thought of my new shades and he said, "You look like Elvis Costello".



























What these sunglasses say: Allison, I know this world is killing you. But my aim is true.
I haven't quite decided if I can pull them off yet, but I honestly don't really care.
They're too cool. And I am in desperate need of cool as my eye-glasses
progressively get more and more like coke bottles.


















So, to recap...
Why getting my eyes checked was awesome:
1. I found out there's an alternate universe inside my eyeball.
2. An awesome dude helped me pick out the perfect frames.
3. Elvis Costello sunglasses for free.

Love Rant: Conversations With the Broski (Episode 2)

This conversation illustrates my brother's and mine relationship in a nutshell. This is also why unlimited texting was invented:


BROSKI: (via text message)

ME: Yiiiiiiiikes!!! Stay warm and be safe driving!

BROSKI: I'm gunna shoot myself. Tell everyone I love them.

ME: Stop it. Don't even joke like that. Not funny. Put on your man pants and shovel your damn car out.

BROSKI:You put your man pants on and...and...yea!

ME: Hey. You didn't live through Snowpocalypse Chicago 2011. That's a weenie snowfall you got there.

BROSKI: Baaaaahahaha imagine having four of those...that's Menomonie....and I don't know if you looked at the date...it's late f@$%&*$ March!

ME: Um. In Snowpocalypse? There were drifts higher than me! And the wind blew in Abominable Snowmen that I had to fight off with only a shovel.

BROSKI: We had dragons that ate people.
BROSKI: And no offense but snow higher than you...not that big of a deal.

ME: You haven't seen me since Snowpocalypse. I never told you that one of the Abominable Snowmen chewed off my arm!
ME: I love you. I'm sorry it snowed.

BROSKI: I love you too. Dragon bit my head off. Doctors don't know how I survived.
BROSKI: Oh, I forgot. When you would be looking up for the dragons, scared...they would have leprechauns come kick you in the shins...

ME: The Abominable Snowmen can shoot lasers out of their eyes.

BROSKI: Pfff garbage can lid...reflect that shit right back at them.

ME: But the lids in Mt. Prospect are made of plastic!! The plastic melted when I tried to reflect the lasers back and shot in my eye! Now I'm blind.

BROSKI: Um. I have no head. boohoo blind.

ME: Shouldn't you be in class?

BROSKI: Shouldn't you be at work?

ME: Um. No. Not yet, thank you very much. Now pay attention!

BROSKI: To the leprechauns and dragons? Good idea.

ME: Just be safe out there, Headless-Broski. Love you.

Love Rant: Coffee Cups With Saucers

I have no reasonable explanation as to why this makes me so so happy...but it does. I'm slightly embarrassed to say that when my coffee comes on a saucer at a restaurant, I get a little giddy.
I don't know if it's the "tidiness" of the whole thing.
Or that if it's just elegant and classy.
(Really, what it probably is, is that, if a coffee cup on a saucer my brain is instantly like, "OMG! ROOM FOR A COOKIE!!")

Sometimes, I forget to be civilized.
Not that I'm a Barbarian, but I am always on the run and coffee, as much as I love it, is also my morning fuel. It's either thrown into a mug and guzzled in the morning a la Popeye downing a can of spinach or I run through a drive-though and get it in a disposable cup that's disposable because I didn't have time before I left the house to MAKE and SIT DOWN with an ACTUAL cup.
When presented with a coffee cup on a saucer, I'm reminded to slow down. I think, "Wow. This must be a damn good cup of coffee. I mean...its got its own chair and everything. I should sit in my own chair and enjoy it."
Coffee cups on saucers make me feel civilized. It's like permission to chill out for a sec, sit at a cafe with a book (and a cookie) and watch the world go by (with a cookie). I mean, think about it...if you're carrying a coffee cup on a saucer you have to walk slowly AND when you drink you can't just slam it back down on the table. You have to dantily return it to it's little place in the middle of the plate.
Also, as we've covered...saucer=built in cookie tray.

...this is as close as I am ever going to get (and have ever gotten) to having a tea party.
No thank you tea, just strong black coffee.
No thank you crumpets, just cookies.
No thank you proper posture and polite conversation, just a comfortable chair and an engaging discussion or a good book.
But yet yes yes please to my coffee on a saucer.

AND DON'T FORGET THE COOKIE.


...I suppose eating a cookie like cookie monster total defeats my whole argument that coffee cups on saucers make me slow down. Honestly though, it only slows me down when it comes to drinking and enjoying my coffee. Personally, I don't know any other way to eat cookies.





Also, when I image-searched "coffee saucers cookies" to find the above image I also found this...

I can't decide if it's a miracle or the worst thing ever because it pretty much make a saucer mostly moot.

Love Rant: When I Don't Blog For Five Months And Then Try To Pretend Like Nothing Happened...

Yeah.
That.

More posts to come.
I'm trying very hard to be "back" again.

Love Rant: Walgreens Drugstore for Carrying Same-Sex Wedding Cards

YES!

Seriously!


We might not be able to get legally married in Illinois but BOY HOWDY when we do? Walgreens is ready with same-sex wedding cards! And for now, they'll do just fine as "commitment ceremony" cards.

THANK YOU WALGREENS! A big thumbs up to you.

FURTHERMORE this was a Walgreens in the suburbs! I know! Crazy, right? I mean, I might have expected it from a Walgreens in Boystown, but the burbs? Whoa, baby!

Granted, it was only 2 cards and the choices were a card for "two grooms" with a cartoon of two tuxedoed torsos holding hands OR a card with rainbow hearts all over it. I know, not the best options but at least they were there.

The "two grooms" card was really cute. The rainbow hearts? Not so much. Don't take away my gay card but I'm not a huge fan of rainbows. It will be a cold, cold day in hell before there are any rainbows within a 10 mile radius of my wedding. Unless it's a real rainbow in the sky. My wedding will NOT have rainbow flag centerpieces, or a rainbow flag cake and I will NOT be wearing a rainbow tie at my wedding. Nor, will any member of my wedding party carry the rainbow flag down the aisle to the tune of "I'm Coming Out". Basically, at no time should anyone at my wedding say, "Hey, you know what this wedding reminds me? Last year's pride parade."

...although I wouldn't mind a drag queen in my wedding party. Or a dyke on a bike. PFLAG should probably have a float too. And I guess if they really want to the HRC could pass out pamphlets as long as they were willing to pass out wedding programs too.
...And if Elton John is busy the Chicago Gay Man's Chorus could do the music.
But over my dead body is anyone wearing a rainbow. We have to keep it classy.

Love Rant: The Three-Day Walkers

So, this weekend, the Breast Cancer Three-Day once again came right by the doors of The Studio, where I work. The Studio (where I teach art classes and help the children of the world paint plaster unicorns) is next to a giant park that serves as a rally/pit stop point for the walkers each year. Over the years, though, The Studio has become a sort of unofficial pit stop, providing a break with air conditioning and toilets that flush (which, at this point in the walk, is a luxury to the walkers).

Two years ago we were unprepared and didn't know what was happening when streams of men and women in pink paraded by our doors. We had a couple people stop in as they went by asking to use our bathroom. They were thankful for toilets that flushed and air conditioning. That gave us the grand idea that we would totally deck the place out and decorate the following year and be open for the purpose of providing our bathrooms and air to weary walkers...

So...
Last year...Unbeknownst to me, Mrs. Yueill, Kassie, and Kristen spent long hours and great lengths decking out the Studio in honor of my mom. When I obliviously pulled up to work that morning and saw a HUGE sign that said "In Loving Memory of jan Cornelius", I couldn't help but get a little teary-eyed. It'll go down as one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. The walk that year was very special, in every way. The walkers really appreciated the use of our facilities. I talked to many great women and got bear-hugged by people I did not know. Walkers got to see my mom's picture and many told me they'd think of her as they crossed the finish and that they were walking for her.

This year, I got to help decorate!

It's always such a touching experience. I am not too involved in any breast cancer organizations and I've never walked myself. I don't really know why. Mostly, it's just 'cause that's not how I deal. To me, now, my life is all about moving forward and while I'd help the cause in any way I could, in a lot of ways I feel as though I've already earned the "Cancer Merit Badge" on my life sash. It's not that I don't feel like I need to fight or pursue a cure or walk 60 miles with tons of fantastic people. It's mostly that I feel like I spent 12 years fighting with my mom and well...it's a battle that's kinda done for me and a chapter that's closed. I kinda feel like I spent 12 years walking for Breast Cancer. And I guess, in a lot of ways, in my own way, I continue to walk for Breast Cancer everyday of my life. The way I do this is by carrying my mother in my heart everyday of my life and being the person she taught me to be. I think it'd be important to her that I carry on that legacy and so that's what I try and do.

I may feel very differently one day if I ever get cancer or if someone I know and love gets cancer (again). I wasn't really old enough to walk or process that I should walk or volunteer when my mom was fighting for her life. I think a lot of people struggle with what to "DO" when either they or someone they love gets cancer. Walking is a palpable way to DO something. It hurts, it takes effort, its a journey, and it's something. Something to be done and that they can say they've done that's measurable. For the walkers that walk WITH cancer (yes, it happens and yes I've seen it) (these people are in a league ALL their own), I think walking is a palpable way to really freakin' STICK IT to their disease. And I say, high-fives to that. Walking takes strength, endurance, and a good attitude-all of what it takes to fight cancer. I admire, love, and support those who walk with everything I've got. Same as I do anyone on this earth who fights cancer.

I know that people walk for many reasons.
I love them for the money they raise to learn more about the disease/find a cure.
I love them for walking to understand somehow what it is to fight.
I love them for doing something to fight the disease.

Mostly, I love the Walk, (from the walkers, to the volunteers, to the people who run it, to the simple act of standing on the side line cheering) because it feels like people taking care of and caring about each other.
Mostly, I love the walk because I feel like it's what the world should be about...People giving a damn. People giving a damn so much that they're gonna spend 3 days walking 60 miles. People giving a damn so much they'll set up along the route to cheer these people on. People giving a damn so much they'll spend their own money to buy water bottles and freeze pops to hand out to the walkers. People caring enough to stop and look at the pictures of my mom, to not know me or my mother, but to say, "This is for her. This is for you."
WHOA.
WHOA.
WHOA.
You would do that for her, Ms. Walker I never met before in my life? You would do that for ME?!
What?!?!
Yes. Absolutely. Just like I don't know any of you people but here I am clapping my hands numb to cheer you on.
Here WE are as The Studio, handing out every band-aid and cold pack we can from our first aid kits, offering our flushing toilets and air conditioning.
Here is the Studio Staff, caring enough to make a special dedication table for my mother. Recognizing what this means to me.
Here we all are, hugging people we don't know.
Here we all are, thanking the crap out of each other, "THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR LETTING ME WASH MY HANDS WITH RUNNING WATER!!" "WELL THANK YOU FOR WALKING!"
Here we all are, dancing to "Single Ladies" outside the Studio door.
And Jesus...here I am putting up with all this damn PINK. I mean, my lord, that's the biggest miracle of all.

I guess the stupid, naive, idealist in me kinda wonders why the rest of life and the world can't be this way. I wonder why we have to fight each other so much. I wonder why we so often choose to NOT take care of each other or support each other, or why we pick and choose who we care for/support. I wonder why we can't be human begins walking for each other, instead of just ourselves.







Here are some pictures!!!!




Omg. So. Much. Pink. EVERYWHERE.




A sign we rolled outside. It took us FOR-EVER to come up with the "quote". Melissa Etheridge always comes though. Seriously, we were getting super slap-happy had run through things like, "Life is a work of art, Color yours with hope." all the way down to, "Give me Liberty or give me DEATH". The Melissa song just felt right. It's line from her song "Run for Life". She performed the song on the Grammys or some other award show, bald-headed from chemo. She's a bad-ass.



President Obama broke into the Studio over night and made his own special sign for the Three-Day Walkers. Thanks, Dude!




Special memory table for my Mama.
...and special tune-age to pump the Walkers.





Walkers walkin' by...GO WALKERS! GO!





Walk for answers. Walk for more.





President Obama's sign in the flowerbox.









Mrs. Yueill and me. I might have lost my mama, but I'm so glad she sent me this lady. I love her.





Mrs. Yueill, Kristen, and Me. This picture is titled, "This picture looks like it was taken at a bar or a party"




This picture is titled, "A PROPER picture of Mrs. Yueill, Kristen, and Me"

So The Studio is where we teach art classes. As such, things can get kinda messy so we always cover our tables with butcher paper. Without our knowledge, the Walkers started writing on one of the tables and filling it with messages. It was full by about mid-way through the walk and at the end of the day we had something that looked like this:


Kind of amazing, right?

I snapped a couple close-ups of my favorite messages....






No! I did not take a picture of this one because their team name was the "Tittie Kitties" and that it was probably the most-lesbian name for any Breast Cancer 3-Day team. I took it because they are from Colorado. But now you probably just think I took it for the other reason, anyway. Thanks, guys. Real mature.




Mindy from Kentucky!!




I think you should move here too!




Thank you for being one of the highlights of our summer.






This last one was my favorite. It's pretty much been my mantra all summer, so to see it left on a table by a random stranger from a 3-Day Breast Cancer Walk was, well, pretty damn cool...

Love Rant: Inheritances

So, if you know me enough to speak to me regularly, you probably know I say "what?" "huh?" "pardon?" and "one more time?" a lot and generally accompany it with a point to my ear.

It's not because I don't listen.
It's because I don't hear well.

My family has been ALL over me to go get my hearing checked. I don't think it's that bad; they do. Problem is even when I had health insurance-audiologists and hearing aides aren't covered. And hearing aides? Super expensive. $3000 dollars per ear, easy. Plus, I'm 24 damn years old. Call me stubborn and unreasonable but I don't want to wear freakin' hearing aides. So, to recap, my super valid reasons for not getting my hearing checked are: a) Expensive. That spare change in my change bucket is for a new mac, not for hearing aides. b) I don't want to wear hearing aides. So I don't really care if I need them or not anyway.

Anyway. Someone let my the fact that I have a little hearing problem slip to my grandfather. He has had hearing aides ever since I can remember. But, he's an old man. It's necessary and plus, he can do fun, endearing, old man things with his hearing aides For example, when we were little he used to make them ring whenever we would hug him. Then he would say something adorable like, "Oh that was such a nice hug you're making me ring!"
Um. If I were to do that as a 24 year old lesbian....to anybody? It would be weird and slightly creepy.
So why get them if I can't even have fun with them?
Anyway, point is...my grandpa found out about my hearing problem. And my grandpa, as many grandpas do, likes to stew and worry about things. So, my phone rings today and I had the following conversation...






















What I love about my grandpa offering me his old hearing aides:
1. That I probably got my crappy hearing from him.
2. That he is sweet enough to do so. I love that the solution to my hearing problem is so simple to him. "Well here, just use my old ones! What's that? You say you can't see well either? Well shoot, use my specs! I'm due for an upgrade anyway!"
3. Let's set aside the fact that using his old hearing aides grosses me out a little bit...how about that his hearing aides are dinosaurs and probably weigh as much as I do and would not even fit on my ear? His hearing aides on my ears would be like putting a giant expedition frame-pack backpack on a kindergartener.
4. That throughout the entire conversation, the hearing aides that he wants to give me were not working.

Awesome.

Love Rant: My Veggie "Garden"

I love my veggie garden. I love my veggie garden so much. Even though my veggie "garden" is really just three plants, one in a pot, one in a hanging planter, and one...welll...one in a bucket. I love them. Want to know why I love my poor excuse for a veggie garden so much??

Because I actually think I might get veggies this year!!!! HOORAY!!

Now, if any of you followed my blog last year you may recall the vegetable garden I tried to grow and its miserable failure. "Miserable failure" doesn't even cut it really. It was more like an epic miserable failure.
Last year, I only ended up with a little bit of cilantro and a couple jalapenos out of the six different types of veggies I planted. Yeah. Pretty epically miserable.
I was ashamed.
I was disheartened.
I cursed my garden.
And for a brief moment I thought I'd never make it as an eco-conscious, forward-thinking, grow-you-own-grub type of 21st century human being taking steps to be more responsible about food intake. I'll be honest, before I planted my plants last summer? I had visions of a full out, rowed garden in my backyard. I had visions planting plants in "found" materials like old tires and clementine boxes and milk crates. I had visions of making delicious dinners solely out of what I could pull from the ground in my back yard...
BUT seeing as how I a) live with my dad and he probably wouldn't appreciate me digging up a good portion of his yard and dragging those "found" (read: trash) planters like tires and boxes INTO the yard and b) Every book I read about gardening told me to start small, I decided to start small last year.

...or so I thought.

Turns out, planting six different types of plants in containers along the wall of your garage when you're a busy girl running between three jobs doesn't qualify as "starting small". Two tomato plants. A cuke plant. A jalapeno plant. A pepper plant. And a pot of herbs. 8 weeks into the summer last year it became painfully clear that my initial foray into home-grown sustenance was going nowhere fast.
And in planting those plants in planters along the wall of my garage I realized I had made another critical error...
I planted the plants out of reach of the hose.
Yup.
Super dumb.
Basically, this meant I had the schlep a watering can back and forth from the hose to the garage 6 different times every time I watered.
Basically, this meant that my plants were probably WAY under-watered.
Lessons learned.

Like I said, I was ashamed and disheartened that my first garden was a wreck.
BUT I am also incredibly stubborn. I mean...incredibly perseverant.

But being stubborn doesn't make me a total twit, so THIS year I cut my plant-age in HALF. Three plants to deal with is a whole lot easier than six. You can pay attention to each one, encourage it to grow, and go over to it each day and whisper things like, "I can't wait to eat your ovaries." (No, I don't actually do that because it would be super creepy).

I planted three veggie/fruit plants this year: a tomato plant, a strawberry plant, and a jalapeno plant. I planted them in pots and NEAR the hose. And they're doing pretty well! Nothing has gotten big or developed enough to actually eat yet, but...it's getting there! (I think)

I also made sure not to make the mistake this year of naming my plants. I named my plants last year and that made their failure all the more depressing. Now, my plants are simply known as what they are: Upside-down-tomato-dude, Strawberry-dude, and Jalapenos-in-a-bucket-dude. You might think it cold-hearted, but this way if they fail I won't be depressed.

Check them out....

Strawberry-dude. Oh man. So excited for this dude to start producin' ripe stuff:


I think this little guy will be the first one I can eat. I say this only because, so far, he is the biggest. I am tracking his delicious process daily:

One day, when I'm all grown up and have a home, I picture myself in a cute little cottage-y type place with tons of overgrown berry bushes in the backyard. And all I'll have to do to get breakfast in the morning is walk in the backyard and fill up a dish with good stuff, grab a cup of joe and be made in the shade.


Upside-down-Tomato-dude:

(I didn't want to actually spend money on a planter made for planting tomatoes upside down, so I just bought a regular planter with a coir lining and cut a hole in the bottom. Plus, I'm pretty sure my Dad would have evicted me if I tried to hang up the Topsey-Turvey in his yard.)


Grow little tomatoes GROW! I want to eat you on some bread with some goat cheese.

Jalapenos-in-a-bucket-dude:

This is the one I didn't expect to do all that well because a) I planted him in a bucket and b) I ran out of soil by the time I got to him so he only got like 1/4 of a bucket of soil (I know I KNOW I'm like the worst gardener EVER) but look at those little dudes go! Pretty soon I'm going to have more jalapenos than I can handle.