Am I the only foul-mouthed woman who makes stuff? REALLY? I read lots of craft blogs, and everything's usually so fucking pristine and sweet that I'd be mortified to leave a comment that said "hello, this is beautiful, thank you for the free pattern" only to have these sweet little dumplings of twenty-something ladies to come here and cry or something. The marzipan from which they're apparently made from would be all disolve-ed.
I guess I could be called a crafter, I dunno, that's kind of a dumb term in my high and mighty fucking opinion. I prefer "bad-ass of fussy detailed art stuff". Or "rocker of modpodge and tiewire and torn bits of stuff". "Crafter" is stupid, you can craft anything - an essay, a table leg, a dish, etc etc etc!!!
I mean, I sew, I knit, I crochet, I make clothes, I cook, I bake, I collage, I do decoupage (NO, REAL FUCKING DECOUPAGE, NOT GODDAMNED CLIP ART OF POSIES PASTED TO A STUPID CHAIR OR SOME WANK, REAL. FUCKING. ART. now that we're clear...), I do assemblage, I make dismembered doll sculptures with glitter and neato wire globes. I write a lot. I am a master of being overly verbose, which could be a craft, too.
So what do I do here? Keep doing my thing and hope I attract likeminded, dirty-foul-sailor-potty-mouthed ladies who make stuff and write about it?
And no, I don't think cussing is crass when used in a conversational tone. In a scholarly work, absolutely inappropriate. When talking to one's peers, hell yes. Words are just words, and some are inherently more passionate than others when spat or cried out.
I close with a Lenny Bruce quote, really one of my favorites ever:
"Well, I was just trying to make a point, and that is that it's the suppression of the word that gives it the power, the violence, the viciousness..."
I wholeheartedly believe that. Completely and utterly.
Now off to paint my hair in blue chunks.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Thursday, December 13, 2007
getting hitched
i hate flying, and on Sunday morning I'll be going clear across the country to Vermont. the place where maple syrup comes from. that, and Ben & Jerry's. I am from Washington state, the place where the pacific beats the shit out of the land, then sends us sideways rain to contend with and we are all ruggedly individualistic coffee addicts (yes, meant to be somewhat oxymoronic.heh).
I am not really looking forward to a lack of decent coffee, and I must say that despite my mocking I do love having a coffee shop or cafe or coffee house (much different, thanks) every block or so. Not just Starbucks. We have great coffee places here. Even the shitty diners serve coffee that's better than ANYWHERE in the US, east of the Cascades. Bellingham, WA is almost as good as it gets, sitting right between Vancouver BC, Seattle, and the San Juan Islands. It's like Amsterdam, only with caffeine replacing the haschish and hookers.
so maybe coffee fear is replacing getting married fear a bit.
to be quite honest, I never expected to get married, let alone to any one person, or even a boy. I mean, willies are lovely, but boys get old quickly, what with the moldy dishes piled by the game controllers and the stiff, sweat encrusted socks, the farting continually during the night, the poor sense of fashion and lack of awareness on most hygiene issues..."what do you mean, 'one has to keep their toenails clipped?' Why?!" *facepalm*
Manwife isn't quite this bad, but I've had a good number of male roommates and live-ins that I have a good background in boy ickness 101. I mean, tampons left floating in the toilet I can handle. Deuces on the other hand....um.
But now I'm marrying one of these foreign humanoids? So weird. I don't have anything against men, I like them as chums much more than women. Women are mean friends, men are great. Very simple emotionally, and fairly straightforward (this is in comparison, of course. you men are still very complicated, rest assured).
Still. Very weird, this marriage thing.
So if you wandered over from my mommy's blog, Ms FN, you know I am getting married in like two or three days. No, I don't know which day. Isn't that great though? I mean, isn't it relieving to see someone who genuinely fears the crass commercialism of this pretty princess bullshit and focuses more on having a marriage rather than a wedding?
No?
Yeah, you and the majority of brides and women out there. I guess dads are into weddings too. Some sort of status thing at work there - look, my daughter's wedding dress cost more than a year's worth of mortgage payments on my house! Isn't that Spectacular?
I say...ummmm. No.
I am eloping to the other end of the country, as weddings are not my thing. No. Not at all.
I don't give a high holy fuck(™) about seating arrangements and cocktail/mingling hour or what band to hire or place settings or registries or what everyone should wear. I really. Fucking. Do. Not. And I guess that revelation was horrifying to many family (and future family) members. My aunt has one of those binder things FULL of wedding ideas. It's super god damned creepy, if you ask me. She's unmarried, her baby's daddy ditched her for some trailer trash (very sad, my aunt is a nice little catholic anglo saxon yuppie).
I went to a family event for my BioDad's side this past July, where all of the women except my Nana and her sisters were absofuckinglutely shocked/appalled to hear I hadn't put one iota of thought into my wedding, and even more horrified to learn that I just didn't give two shits if we handed out cold hot dogs on paper plates and sat on lawn chairs and everyone wore jeans at the wedding. So...you see what kind of fucktardery Manwife and I were up against.
I am not going to get into the future MIL reaction. She's a fucking nutjob, so her issues matter not.
So the plan is, fly into a ginormous fucking storm on Sunday, rest a bit, get married either monday or tuesday (no clue) wearing a simple champagne colored dress - not at all poofy or fancy or ornate or hideous, satin chinese flats with the little maryjane strap, have blue bits in my hair, and wear large, swirly bone earrings with my cosmic pearl array necklace (it's really bizarre and great; there are about ten wires bent into a wavy circlet, with the pearls kind of interspersed randomly. it looks like an asteroid belt. a shiny asteroid belt. shiiiiiiiinnnnneeeeeeeyyyyyyy). No 100 dollar hairdos, no fancy french manicure, no veil, no fake tiara...no. I also refuse to wear uncomfortable underwear for this. Modal all the way, bb. Wish I had my forearm tattoos finished to really look purty (and piss off manwife's uptight whiter than white family at the same time!), but oh well.
I don't really care what Manwife wears as long as it's clean and he's bathed in the past day. Then we'll do our thing at the awesome B&B at the old governor's mansion, have cake and booze, and hump like bunnies and be lazy the next day. Then we go to some fancy spa resort and get drunk and play in the snow. Booyakasha.
Completely off topic!:
I love this shit right here. I like Tori alright, but she annoys the fuck out of me, especially live. I hate the humping and writhing. I fucking loathe Kate Bush, but this vid is rad.
The talking dreadlock is fucking strange. In a good way.
I am not really looking forward to a lack of decent coffee, and I must say that despite my mocking I do love having a coffee shop or cafe or coffee house (much different, thanks) every block or so. Not just Starbucks. We have great coffee places here. Even the shitty diners serve coffee that's better than ANYWHERE in the US, east of the Cascades. Bellingham, WA is almost as good as it gets, sitting right between Vancouver BC, Seattle, and the San Juan Islands. It's like Amsterdam, only with caffeine replacing the haschish and hookers.
so maybe coffee fear is replacing getting married fear a bit.
to be quite honest, I never expected to get married, let alone to any one person, or even a boy. I mean, willies are lovely, but boys get old quickly, what with the moldy dishes piled by the game controllers and the stiff, sweat encrusted socks, the farting continually during the night, the poor sense of fashion and lack of awareness on most hygiene issues..."what do you mean, 'one has to keep their toenails clipped?' Why?!" *facepalm*
Manwife isn't quite this bad, but I've had a good number of male roommates and live-ins that I have a good background in boy ickness 101. I mean, tampons left floating in the toilet I can handle. Deuces on the other hand....um.
But now I'm marrying one of these foreign humanoids? So weird. I don't have anything against men, I like them as chums much more than women. Women are mean friends, men are great. Very simple emotionally, and fairly straightforward (this is in comparison, of course. you men are still very complicated, rest assured).
Still. Very weird, this marriage thing.
So if you wandered over from my mommy's blog, Ms FN, you know I am getting married in like two or three days. No, I don't know which day. Isn't that great though? I mean, isn't it relieving to see someone who genuinely fears the crass commercialism of this pretty princess bullshit and focuses more on having a marriage rather than a wedding?
No?
Yeah, you and the majority of brides and women out there. I guess dads are into weddings too. Some sort of status thing at work there - look, my daughter's wedding dress cost more than a year's worth of mortgage payments on my house! Isn't that Spectacular?
I say...ummmm. No.
I am eloping to the other end of the country, as weddings are not my thing. No. Not at all.
I don't give a high holy fuck(™) about seating arrangements and cocktail/mingling hour or what band to hire or place settings or registries or what everyone should wear. I really. Fucking. Do. Not. And I guess that revelation was horrifying to many family (and future family) members. My aunt has one of those binder things FULL of wedding ideas. It's super god damned creepy, if you ask me. She's unmarried, her baby's daddy ditched her for some trailer trash (very sad, my aunt is a nice little catholic anglo saxon yuppie).
I went to a family event for my BioDad's side this past July, where all of the women except my Nana and her sisters were absofuckinglutely shocked/appalled to hear I hadn't put one iota of thought into my wedding, and even more horrified to learn that I just didn't give two shits if we handed out cold hot dogs on paper plates and sat on lawn chairs and everyone wore jeans at the wedding. So...you see what kind of fucktardery Manwife and I were up against.
I am not going to get into the future MIL reaction. She's a fucking nutjob, so her issues matter not.
So the plan is, fly into a ginormous fucking storm on Sunday, rest a bit, get married either monday or tuesday (no clue) wearing a simple champagne colored dress - not at all poofy or fancy or ornate or hideous, satin chinese flats with the little maryjane strap, have blue bits in my hair, and wear large, swirly bone earrings with my cosmic pearl array necklace (it's really bizarre and great; there are about ten wires bent into a wavy circlet, with the pearls kind of interspersed randomly. it looks like an asteroid belt. a shiny asteroid belt. shiiiiiiiinnnnneeeeeeeyyyyyyy). No 100 dollar hairdos, no fancy french manicure, no veil, no fake tiara...no. I also refuse to wear uncomfortable underwear for this. Modal all the way, bb. Wish I had my forearm tattoos finished to really look purty (and piss off manwife's uptight whiter than white family at the same time!), but oh well.
I don't really care what Manwife wears as long as it's clean and he's bathed in the past day. Then we'll do our thing at the awesome B&B at the old governor's mansion, have cake and booze, and hump like bunnies and be lazy the next day. Then we go to some fancy spa resort and get drunk and play in the snow. Booyakasha.
Completely off topic!:
I love this shit right here. I like Tori alright, but she annoys the fuck out of me, especially live. I hate the humping and writhing. I fucking loathe Kate Bush, but this vid is rad.
The talking dreadlock is fucking strange. In a good way.
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