The Halloween Story

As alluded to last month.

Once upon a time many years ago, I was a dumbfuck college freshman. I was SO THRILLED to be independent and move away from home, but at the same time I must have been somewhat frightened because I regressed in a lot of ways. I had pictures of my cats! I ate a lot of candy, because my mom was so disapproving of candy. I even--oh god this is embarassing--started signing my name as first and middle, the combination of which is intensely childlike and thank heavens no one mocked me for too badly (I don't do it any more, my first name is babyish enough thank you very much).

I felt very much like a child set loose among adults. For example, the first time someone referred to one of my fellow freshmen as a "woman" I was completely confused and couldn't figure out who she was talking about. My poor roommate must have thought I was somehow mentally deficient, because she was vastly more mature than I and knew a lot of normal general information about the world that I did not. For example: how to dial long distance? Where the science building was? Where is the bus? People stay awake after 10 PM? Oh MAN I was a dumdum. Good thing it was a very protective and insulated college or else who knows.

I spent kind of a lot of time in the TV room (again...my mom disapproved of TV so I went overboard) when I wasn't busy, because I was not so awesome at making friends (luckily, in soviet russia, friends make YOU!) and because it was a good place to go that was dark and quiet and not as sensory overload as the rest of the place. One of those early weeks at school, I went down to try to find a TV playing the season premiere of "X files" because I was a giant nerd. That was like the second or so time that I had run into Octuplet Dazzle, and I was SO EXCITED that she liked my superlame show and from then on, we usually watched together.

So anyway, couple months later, Halloween is here, and you know there are a million cool-kid parties going on. I don't have to tell you that I was way too shy and nervous to go to any of them, and anyway had not received the secret memo about time and location. All I knew was there was free candy in the dining halls, and people were dressed up.

The one thing I felt I could attend was a scary-stories-performance in my own hall. The woman telling the stories was a sort of distant acquaintance, an upperclasswoman from my hometown who played tennis with my stepgrandmother.
So, I put on a 'costume' (I believe I glued plastic spiders all over my face. Not so much a costume as an effect, I guess) and wandered down to the living room where the stories were going on, and found Octuplet Dazzle there. (woohoo!) Now, I am a strictly rational type, I do not believe in any type of spooky ghosts despite my love of the x files. But Helen's stories were quite good and she set them in the actual dorm itself which made them almost scary, though far-fetched.

Anyway, when it was over and everyone had eaten all the available candy, most people, like my roommate, started getting ready to go out to their hot parties, but not lame-o me and not Octuplet Dazzle, but not because she was lame, probably because she was going to study or something (she smart).
At this point she prepared to do her normal disappearing act where she sneaks away when no one is looking. But I jumped in!
"Wow, wasn't that SCARY?" I said.
"Um, a little. I guess," she said, eyeing the exit.
"So FREAKY. With the bloody handprint on the window of the computer room? And the crazy woman locked to die in the fourth-floor corner room? And how the dining room used to be a cemetery? Aren't you scared?"
"Uh...a little. Maybe," thinking what the fuck is this dumdum on about?
"Man...I don't know if I'll be able to sleep! How about you? Won't you be SCARED all alone in your room? Just thinking about that bloody handprint and the screaming you can hear at the full moon. I think it's a full moon tonight!"
[note: for some reason OD had no roommate. The roommate dropped out, like, four days into school. OD denies responsibility, but she does snore on occasion]
"Yeah...I guess so."
"I would be SO SCARED to sleep alone tonight! Hey I know! You can sleep in my room!"

And she did folks, and that's the only story I have that is even sort of cute.

The end.

uh huh.

Received from...uh...someone. Someone who should know better.
No comment.


Hello, Fabulous LADY friend

THIS IS A TOAST ... TO US ... FOR THE MAN WHO HAS US, THE LOSERS WHO HAD US, AND THE LUCKY PEOPLE WHO WILL MEET US!!

You have been hit. You have been considered one of the 10 most fabulous ladies on my friends list. Once you have been hit, you have to hit 10 fabulous ladies. If you get hit again you know you're really fabulous.

SEND THIS TO 10 AMAZING LADIES, INCLUDING THE ONE WHO SENT IT TO YOU!!! .
**Let them know they are truly fabulous.


THINK PINK!! BREAST CANCER awareness

spookay!

Halloween's coming. That means candy eating! and neighbors with swank-ass parties. We are supposed to enter a "creepy dessert" contest and I'm a little intimidated.
Question: legibility of Leslie Hall costume? anyone?

note please to the right, Library Thing. Fun times! I want to discuss the YA SCi fi title. As noted before, even though I often find novels boring, I can totally read YA fantasy/scifi. If you share that taste, please read Un Lun Dun. It is funny and surprising and exciting and clever. Female heroine, too, very resourceful. And how often do you see a desi heroine (besides in those "my family keeps me down" books I hate)? It's a good one, folks.

bastard-coated bastards with bastard filling

OD: I'm going to Brooks, you want anything?
Me: yes, VENGEANCE!


On Friday I went to the (bleepity bleep) pharmacy to pick up a prescription. Went in and waited in line only to be told they don't carry that kind, sorry sadsack, no drugs for you! So I turned around and left. When I came out what did I spy? A grimy blue civic with a STOVE-IN SIDE. ASSHOLES! I KILL YOU!

Woo! Just when you think you can relax about money a little.

Brooks (nka Rite Aid) does not have security cameras in the parking lot, btw. So if you feel like doing a hit and run, do it there.

GARRRRRRRGH

ahem.

whoo, let's get heavy off the top shall we,

I'll even resort to Utter Boring to do so.

bought a mattress this weekend, for the kid. We'd been using crib mattress on the floor but upgraded to the twin for a little more rolling room. and, considering how much effing time we have been spending down there with him between the hours of 12 and 5, a little extra room for adults is not bad either.
They really get you on these things. You muster up the rationalization to spend $$$ on the mattress, then at the checkout they hit you for a water-proof cover thingy, then of course you need sheets in the new size. While you're in Marshall's buying them, you see all this other crap you need and then...you go home and you're like fuck! we have one metric ton of crap in this closet alone!
On a related note, anyone want a used-but-totally-clean tiny baby mattress? Not a fancy one by any means.
I've been drawing little diagrams with cutouts trying to rearrange some furniture. Have to make room for playtime fun, and it's not a bad idea to get the computer on the other side of Baby Gate Gulch, either. We have the place divided like that, into Yes Baby and No Baby. Front of house: fair game. Back of house: DMZ.
so far ok but i'm sure he'll be able to demolish the gate, like, next week.

Obligatory Gay Post

Lynne Cheney was on Jon Stewart last night.  Did you see?  He did the soft-touch thing of course.  There would be no excuse for that if he did it to Dick, but with her—I guess—it’s all right.  Still, though he was careful and delicate, he did manage to say what we all are thinking. 

 

Why is it OK for the Republicans to do such mean things to your child?

 

Her (non-) answers conveyed that she believes that, in fact, she and Dick have stuck up for their child, have protected their child, Dick by saying “freedom means freedom for everyone,” and she herself by stating publicly that she is against the FMA.  She dismissed any suggestion that they could actually stand up and do something instead of just saying things.  And I thought, isn’t she a MOTHER? How can she let that stuff go?

 

I have never properly thanked my own mother for her activism.  She deserves my thanks and more, she puts me to shame.  Years ago she was fighting the fight for Civil Unions.  She even put a bumper sticker on her car, which is so out of her normal way I was good and truly shocked.  In the years since she has stepped up to wage the battle for full marriage rights.  At any street fair or festival, she’s manning the Freedom to Marry booth, chatting up strangers, extracting signatures for the petitions.  She’s unafraid to really engage someone who says “Are you gay?  Then why do you care?” She writes letters to the editor when needed—clear, and concise letters that lay it out in simple terms.  Marriage is good.  Everyone should have the right.  She goes to the Statehouse to lobby.  When she’s in DC on business (yes! She has an entire other career!) she stops in to the rep and the senators to say hello and to remind them of this, her important cause.  You can call it preaching to the choir but it still matters.  

 

You may think that there is no convincing the antis that they are wrong.  But she has done it.  She has collected signatures from people who said, Oh, I just couldn’t! It’s too far!  She’ll say, What part is too far?  She talks them through it.  They change their minds because of what she says.

 

This is amazing to me.  I have a touch of the pessimist in me (O.D. is scoffing, a TOUCH?) and would never, ever have believed that people could be convinced that they were wrong on this issue.  My mother proves me wrong over and over.  Vermont is going to follow Massachusetts, I think.

 

I am incredibly grateful to have my mother’s support.  It’s more than support; she’s leading the way.  To me it has always seemed beyond all requirement, the lengths she goes to for this cause.  But according to her, it is simply mothering.  It is protective, it is caring, it is loving. Now that I am slowly becoming used to the role of mother myself, and wondering every day what it means to be a good mother and whether I can be one, I understand better.  My mother fights this fight because it is what mothers do for their children: really and truly fight for them.  If I can stand for my kid the way my mother does for me, I will be satisfied with the job I’ve done. 

is it funny, or depressing?

it's both of course, and feels written especially for me. woo!