Yesterday: slept in til 10 am, got dressed and picked up my bus pass and caught a ride downtown 20 minutes later, leaving Manwife and Squidge to head to the local pool for a Dad-Son day. I can't wear my bikini top without getting cited for indecent exposure, so I take a sanity day to myself.
Went from the downtown depot to the Newstand, and bought three by three's compilation book of award winning illustration from '07.
Went to the Old Town Cafe and had a farmer's skillet with Breadfarm toast (dense homemade hippy bread mmmm) and a pancake on the side, with lots of jasmine green tea.
Bummed around downtown, got snotty looks from scrawny hipster college girls at the Buffalo Exchange consignment shop, and grumpily stomped out. More hipsters made scoffing noises at me, so I made my way to the hippy-friendly Cornwall St area.
Went to my favorite import shop, found a nepalese embroidered hoodie I liked, but refused to pay $60 for it. Found nice buffalo bone earrings, the swirly fish hook sort with pretty carvings, but didn't want to pay $20 for them. Maybe next week.
Went to the local handspun yarn store and bought two skeins of grey and chocolatey merino, and a too-large set of circular needles. BS'd with the nice lady who runs the shop about spinning and dyeing classes and knitting circle, and petted the store kitty. I might go to knitting circle, I don't know, I am shy about that sort of thing kind of. I hope I decide to.
Wandered innocently towards the general vicinity of the art supply store, then stealthily ducked in and bought the largest jug of matte Mod Podge available, and also a brown pigment pen (i like to sketch with these a lot, they never bleed or smear and roll nicely along the papers I use).
Laden down with gifts to myself, I stumble tiredly back on to the bus and listen to my music while trying to ignore the drunk bum talking to me. Disgruntled, I get off the bus at the Falls/park about two miles from my house and take the trail around the pond and falls home. It's great! And really cold.
Fall in the door as manwife and squidge are leaving, and read James Kochalka's American Elf strip until they return. We go out to our favorite mexican restaurant and stuff ourselves silly, then go home and watch Stardust.
Today: I sent Jett dog back home to Ma and Pa, and Ayd went too! HUZZAH! Manwife returned from work around lunch, bearing gifts of peppermint mochas and eggs florentine sammiches!!! We knit and drink coffee and nosh in bed, watching Transformers and Bourne Supremacy, then we tried for the fourth day in a row to say good riddance to prophylactics while I am dropping eggs like a hen and make a bebe. It's very hard work. Please pity me. Heheheheheh! No don't! It's great! I will cuss it in about 7 months though. Oh well.
We drink more coffee, then decide to FINALLY use our Xmas gift cards and grab dinner.
First on the list is the bookstore, and Manwife takes FOREVER to find two books. I wandered around the bargain areas, then head back to the knitting and sewing section. I pick out a kid stuff knit book, and a weird Japanese felt craft book with a How-To for a stuffed felt Robot Panda (how could I resist that?!?!) Then I read some graphic novels I had no intention of buying and waited for manwife to look at every book in the store.
Then, we head up to the icky mall. But it was ok, because we get to wander slowly around the mall! Slowly! No whining! No potty breaks! No bitching! YAY!
We started at target, marveling at the bathing suits *already* on display. We look at baby bouncy chairs and exer-saucers and I am disgusted at the overwhelming amount of STUFF on them. It'd overwhelm ME, so how is a baby supposed to be into all the whoozits and whatzits they put on stuff? Good gravy marie. Manwife gets disgusted with me when I get girly and mushy and gross over tiny baby girl shoes, so we look at dishes and board games instead.
Then we wander to all of the girly shops with bath and shower goodies and smelly soaps and lotions. I buy a gel eyemask and nothing else (too stinky!).
Then it's off to Daiso Japan, where I got a lovely hankie and a couple of gifts for certain people. Just. You know. Certain people. WINK WINK MOM. This store is so bizarre, but only because they have EVERYTHING there, and it's cheap, and much of the packaging has strange cartoon characters on it. Even on dowel pins. There are cartoon guys on the package, being really excited about carpentry or something. The kids area smells like pee...all over...so we leave.
I go back to target and buy nick and nora monkey house slippers that are too big so I can slide around in them properly. They are hell of excellent.
After a few more stores, we decide Manwife is ridiculously hungry and I am kind of dizzy, so we run down to the Southside of town and go to our favorite Thai restaurant to stuff ourselves silly. I chow down on crab and cream cheese filled won ton things with spicy plum sauce, potstickers and garlic chicken and peanut chicken satay, and am bummed they made my pork KeeMao too spicy. I get drunk off of one glass of wine and then we go home in the cold frosty fog. I put my eyemask on my head, and my monkey slippers on my hands and sing songs about babies and baby making while eating m&m's (see, I have talents! they are many!)
Now we are going to go knit and read books in bed more, all without any whiny kiddos who just want to eat cereal and ice cream and watch spongebob (which is actually not so bad to do, it's just the whining that sucks).
THANK YOU MOM AND DAD YOU ARE SUPER HELLA AWESOME GRANDPARENTS THANK YOU OH DEAR CHRIST THANK YOU
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
Tha Intarnet Is Surrrrius Biznaz!
WOW. I get to be on the periphery of ridiculous high school poo and fucktardery on the internets, which I guess (?) is being perpetuated by people in their thirties and above.
And I am being chivvied to Take Up Arms and Play Along with the meaningless shite.
Ok, here it is.
THE INTARWUBS ARE MOSTLY MAKE BELIEVE. Internet people are essentially IMAGINARY FRIENDS. No offense, I intellectually know there are real people typing, but this a giant fucking masquerade ball, don't kid yourselves. It's a slightly less entertaining MMORPG, the whole blogging and posting world.
Do note, I was always polite to my imaginary friends, especailly Punky Brewster because she was so rad and we had awesome adventures and whatnot. I was an only child from the sticks, I couldn't risk being a dick to my imaginary friends - I needed them to stick around!
My advice to sufferers of blog "stalkers" and "vandilizers":
DO grow up. Seriously. There is a little trash can icon on commentor's posts, use it. If it's on someone else's blog or board, hope they like you enough to trash it, or IGNORE IT. Or don't. Get a grip though.
Everyone has a piddly, meaningless, jokey blog for the most part. Don't like what someone's commented? DELETE IT. Or reply back and start a flame war, but do remember the saying about fighting on the internet being much like the special olympics. Do.
Also, blocking people, comment verification and privacy filters are fantastic tools for dealing with creeps! They are! Any fucktarded 12 year old with a myspace account knows this...why doesn't anyone I encounter? I understand that sometimes the way of the web are lost on anyone who remembers the 70's and 60's, but my oh my. If you're posting on a decent enough site, you CAN and SHOULD block assholes if that is your wont. This goes back to Personal Responsibility, which I am a gigantic fan of. I really am.
However, it does seem like people have such dull fucking lives that they need to spam people and send gossipy consiprational emails around their little circles of Imaginary Intarwub Friends creating maaaaaaaaaad drama. If that is your thing, cool. I was not that kid in high school, despite being a drama and art geek. I was an ANGRY drama and art geek but also a redneck metalhead stoner kid (I realize that must be hard to imagine), and beat up kids who did that sort of thing when my name was involved in it. I did. Please don't tell my mom. This is retarded. Get cable, or a vibrator, or a good book and maybe something constructive to do whilst you're bored off your ass at work.
And that has been another exciting installment of She Who Does Not Suffer Fucktardery Ever At All Whatsoever (TM).
And I am being chivvied to Take Up Arms and Play Along with the meaningless shite.
Ok, here it is.
THE INTARWUBS ARE MOSTLY MAKE BELIEVE. Internet people are essentially IMAGINARY FRIENDS. No offense, I intellectually know there are real people typing, but this a giant fucking masquerade ball, don't kid yourselves. It's a slightly less entertaining MMORPG, the whole blogging and posting world.
Do note, I was always polite to my imaginary friends, especailly Punky Brewster because she was so rad and we had awesome adventures and whatnot. I was an only child from the sticks, I couldn't risk being a dick to my imaginary friends - I needed them to stick around!
My advice to sufferers of blog "stalkers" and "vandilizers":
DO grow up. Seriously. There is a little trash can icon on commentor's posts, use it. If it's on someone else's blog or board, hope they like you enough to trash it, or IGNORE IT. Or don't. Get a grip though.
Everyone has a piddly, meaningless, jokey blog for the most part. Don't like what someone's commented? DELETE IT. Or reply back and start a flame war, but do remember the saying about fighting on the internet being much like the special olympics. Do.
Also, blocking people, comment verification and privacy filters are fantastic tools for dealing with creeps! They are! Any fucktarded 12 year old with a myspace account knows this...why doesn't anyone I encounter? I understand that sometimes the way of the web are lost on anyone who remembers the 70's and 60's, but my oh my. If you're posting on a decent enough site, you CAN and SHOULD block assholes if that is your wont. This goes back to Personal Responsibility, which I am a gigantic fan of. I really am.
However, it does seem like people have such dull fucking lives that they need to spam people and send gossipy consiprational emails around their little circles of Imaginary Intarwub Friends creating maaaaaaaaaad drama. If that is your thing, cool. I was not that kid in high school, despite being a drama and art geek. I was an ANGRY drama and art geek but also a redneck metalhead stoner kid (I realize that must be hard to imagine), and beat up kids who did that sort of thing when my name was involved in it. I did. Please don't tell my mom. This is retarded. Get cable, or a vibrator, or a good book and maybe something constructive to do whilst you're bored off your ass at work.
And that has been another exciting installment of She Who Does Not Suffer Fucktardery Ever At All Whatsoever (TM).
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Phone etiquette
I have had this really weird thing happen lately on my phone.
My phone rings, it is a number I do not recognize or that isn't stored in my mobile's little memory chip. I answer the phone, "hello?"
"yes May I speak to D please?"
...."May I ask who's calling, please?" (I get loads of telemarketers and survey people calling me, even though it is illegal to do this to someone's mobile phone.)
In response to my query, however, I get silence, surliness, or just plain confounded asshole behaviour.
Such as:
"well, who's this? *chortle*"
"who am I speaking to?"
"um, *excuse* me...?"
"I'm sorry, what? Who is this?"
Woah. Woah. Woah.
Okay.
For starters, dear reader, this is not how one calls another person. At all. I am certain you know this, though, being the lovely bunch you all are. Har.
Unless you are intimately acquainted with the person you are calling, the appropriate response after they pick up their phone and say "Hello" is
"Hello/Hi/Hola/Bonjour/etc, this is/it's _______(state your name)". If you are calling on behalf of a company you follow your name with the company you are calling for. Is so easy, as Vlad would say.
Very simple. I do it all the time. I like to eliminate awkwardness like that, crazy me. Also I am wary of phone solicitors, and assume everyone else is, so I I say who I am right away because I do not want to get cussed at and hung up on.
You would think people like HR leads and secretaries and other such professionals would know this shit, but no. And they are extremely rude 9 times out of 10. Even when they are calling to give me a job interview (which I am politely declining, being home is fine, thanks, especially if the company hired someone so crappy at their job. I am not working for someone like my ex employer again thx).
For fuck's sake, did no one else's mommy give them etiquette lessons or teach them any damn manners? And why would I want to work for someone's company who let their HR people talk to *anyone* like that? Ugh.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Ok so what the hell, here.
Here is the deal.
If you don't like the way I write, or the slang I use, or the voice in which I choose to address the world, fuck off and don't come here. It is exactly that simple.
No, I do not hesitate at rejecting comments that are posted with the sole purpose of being twatty and heinous. Not at all, since this is my fucking brain puking and what the hell's it to you, any how?
(Other than that BS, Hi! I feel a bit better, just irritated that I am apparently still in Jr High...?)
WTF, mates. If you're here to be a twat to me because you're disgruntled with my ma, well...fuck off then, eh? I am not going to hold your hand and assure you she is horrifically unfair or be hurt on her behalf. Please be somewhat of an adult about conducting your affairs in blogland. Poo jokes are great, but weird hate-by-proxy is not.
Thanks much,
The Management
If you don't like the way I write, or the slang I use, or the voice in which I choose to address the world, fuck off and don't come here. It is exactly that simple.
No, I do not hesitate at rejecting comments that are posted with the sole purpose of being twatty and heinous. Not at all, since this is my fucking brain puking and what the hell's it to you, any how?
(Other than that BS, Hi! I feel a bit better, just irritated that I am apparently still in Jr High...?)
WTF, mates. If you're here to be a twat to me because you're disgruntled with my ma, well...fuck off then, eh? I am not going to hold your hand and assure you she is horrifically unfair or be hurt on her behalf. Please be somewhat of an adult about conducting your affairs in blogland. Poo jokes are great, but weird hate-by-proxy is not.
Thanks much,
The Management
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
blog-o numer-o un-o (of 2008-o)
Ok, so I have been harassed for updates. See, I was going to, but then I was fucking around on the intarwubs - mostly looking for embarrassing pictures of people I know - and found...a thing. This thing was an adoptee-seeking-birthmama/dad thing. And it was this dude, born when my mom had her first kid, in Oregon, looking FOR my mama. AMAZING. I hyperventilated. I cried and got shaky and felt like my chest was going to swing open. So I did the logical thing and called Ma, flapping and squeeing and crying and freaking. I think I scared her.
So, she and I both shoot off emails to the address the site had provided. I am a horrifically impatient person, so I search myspace, friendster, facebook, your mom's house and tibet for this guy. Nooooo luck. Ok, well, still pretty neat. I stay up late playing Neverwinternights and bashing goblins until I stop shaking enough to go to bed ( I am sure four cups of coffee helped there... ).
Next morning, I am back on line, looking up phone numbers and people searches and gps locations. I get crazy impatient. Example: If Manwife misses calling me on his walk home, I cry into his voice mail about how I think hobos have flayed him and are wearing pretty Manwife suits around downtown. Then he comes home and eyes me oddly while beating me away from him to go hide for a while. I have a wild imagination. With hobos. And buffalo bill.
where was I?
oh, ok. so I get the bright idea to type in the email address i had into myspace's email finder thing. I figure, dude is pretty much in my generation, he MUST have something. I mean, come on.
And he does.
Well, his wifelady does. I feel a little voyeuristic, and peek in her pictures. OMFG. Dude has my mom's eyes, nose, chin, smile, WOW. No question. I see they have three kids, and omg, their daughter has the same pretty hazel almond shaped eyes as Ma and Bro. Amazing and wonderful.
I tap out a tentative and polite email asking if I could please get a hold of the guy. Pretty quickly, my sister-in-law (oh that is so cool to say!) replies and says, oh wow, we were trying to get a hold of you but gmail doesn't like verizon mail and keeps spitting the letters we send out! Agh, technology. Well, ok. Shortly thereafter I get an email from my big brother and I am still beyond the moon. I think he and Ma have talked more, but I have talked a good deal with SIL, who is so lovely and sweet. They both are, and I really am very relieved. I think everyone will get along nicely, which is kind of secondary...or tertiary...or entirely besides the point at the moment..! What an amazing couple of days!
Otherwise, I am still married, still hanging out at home - collaging, cooking, teaching Squidge to draw shapes and letters - still being a pain in the ass. Manwife and I have been playing NWN online with our buddy Joop (I am brynito, hit me up if you play and wanna go kill some shit and quest). It's a lot of fun, better than sitting around arguing with Squidge or having Manwife play one game while I'm on another. We are having intarweb issues, we see each other as offline when we play at the same time, which is hella lame. I say lots of cusses about it. Trying to figure out how to do a network connection or something. This may be easier if I get a laptop and do wireless networking, mayhap. My antiquated piece of shit has issues keeping up with the boys, que bummer.
Let's see...not much else to report, just connecting with old friends who are nice and not mean drunks to me, and others that are misguided but still nice, and doing brunch. I DO BRUNCH, it's a kick in the pants. Of course, we brunch at the crunchiest place around - local eggs and bacon and snausages and tatoes and java, mostly nice organic stuff and tahini and home fries with black beans and tarragon and salsa. Yum! And the local coffee roasters around here can't be beat - go find moka joe's and buy some!!
I am mostly just hanging out being flabbergasted and elated and grateful. I think if anyone deserved the cosmos aligning in their favor and heaping karmic rewards on them, it is my mother. I mean, the nice life with YB and having Squidge/Gooneybird around is great, and having a new son-in-law who is awesome and loved by all is nice too, but I was always worried this would never come to any sort of...resolution...?...I don't know the right word. But whatever it is, it's turned out in the best, most joyful and fabulous way possible. If I could meet my brother's adopted mom and dad, I would kiss them right on the mouth for keeping him safe and happy and letting him know my mom was out there and she loved him still. I really could.
The world is very strange and wonderful, I think you just have to look for it and choose it to be so.
So, she and I both shoot off emails to the address the site had provided. I am a horrifically impatient person, so I search myspace, friendster, facebook, your mom's house and tibet for this guy. Nooooo luck. Ok, well, still pretty neat. I stay up late playing Neverwinternights and bashing goblins until I stop shaking enough to go to bed ( I am sure four cups of coffee helped there... ).
Next morning, I am back on line, looking up phone numbers and people searches and gps locations. I get crazy impatient. Example: If Manwife misses calling me on his walk home, I cry into his voice mail about how I think hobos have flayed him and are wearing pretty Manwife suits around downtown. Then he comes home and eyes me oddly while beating me away from him to go hide for a while. I have a wild imagination. With hobos. And buffalo bill.
where was I?
oh, ok. so I get the bright idea to type in the email address i had into myspace's email finder thing. I figure, dude is pretty much in my generation, he MUST have something. I mean, come on.
And he does.
Well, his wifelady does. I feel a little voyeuristic, and peek in her pictures. OMFG. Dude has my mom's eyes, nose, chin, smile, WOW. No question. I see they have three kids, and omg, their daughter has the same pretty hazel almond shaped eyes as Ma and Bro. Amazing and wonderful.
I tap out a tentative and polite email asking if I could please get a hold of the guy. Pretty quickly, my sister-in-law (oh that is so cool to say!) replies and says, oh wow, we were trying to get a hold of you but gmail doesn't like verizon mail and keeps spitting the letters we send out! Agh, technology. Well, ok. Shortly thereafter I get an email from my big brother and I am still beyond the moon. I think he and Ma have talked more, but I have talked a good deal with SIL, who is so lovely and sweet. They both are, and I really am very relieved. I think everyone will get along nicely, which is kind of secondary...or tertiary...or entirely besides the point at the moment..! What an amazing couple of days!
Otherwise, I am still married, still hanging out at home - collaging, cooking, teaching Squidge to draw shapes and letters - still being a pain in the ass. Manwife and I have been playing NWN online with our buddy Joop (I am brynito, hit me up if you play and wanna go kill some shit and quest). It's a lot of fun, better than sitting around arguing with Squidge or having Manwife play one game while I'm on another. We are having intarweb issues, we see each other as offline when we play at the same time, which is hella lame. I say lots of cusses about it. Trying to figure out how to do a network connection or something. This may be easier if I get a laptop and do wireless networking, mayhap. My antiquated piece of shit has issues keeping up with the boys, que bummer.
Let's see...not much else to report, just connecting with old friends who are nice and not mean drunks to me, and others that are misguided but still nice, and doing brunch. I DO BRUNCH, it's a kick in the pants. Of course, we brunch at the crunchiest place around - local eggs and bacon and snausages and tatoes and java, mostly nice organic stuff and tahini and home fries with black beans and tarragon and salsa. Yum! And the local coffee roasters around here can't be beat - go find moka joe's and buy some!!
I am mostly just hanging out being flabbergasted and elated and grateful. I think if anyone deserved the cosmos aligning in their favor and heaping karmic rewards on them, it is my mother. I mean, the nice life with YB and having Squidge/Gooneybird around is great, and having a new son-in-law who is awesome and loved by all is nice too, but I was always worried this would never come to any sort of...resolution...?...I don't know the right word. But whatever it is, it's turned out in the best, most joyful and fabulous way possible. If I could meet my brother's adopted mom and dad, I would kiss them right on the mouth for keeping him safe and happy and letting him know my mom was out there and she loved him still. I really could.
The world is very strange and wonderful, I think you just have to look for it and choose it to be so.
Monday, December 31, 2007
today
today i set chicken stock on fire, a good ending to the year I think.
i am pretty sure that my house now smells a lot like what a lipo clinic that got burnt down smells like and it is hella nasty.
HAPPY NEW YEAR
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Wedding pickshurs
I dun got hitched. Here be the proof.Awww, we look so happy in this one. I love my shoes, he loves my boobs. Win win. Also I am subtly holding his tie straight. Dude has static cling issues.
I would like to say I am wearing white tights, but that would be a dirty, flithy lie. I live in Washington state, okay? It is very cold and wet here. It's like the dank cellar of the United States, only well lit and not creepy. Anyways, I'm a ghosite. Manwife has been asked if he is Mexican, so I don't know. Lithuanians are darker than Swedes, maybe.
Also, Yes...I have blue hair bits and have gargantuan bewbs and am chubby and wear super-glued glasses and have a couple of tattoos that are a wee bit old and need touching up and YES I am self-conscious about it. But here I am, anyhow.
now we's legal! no more illicit...erm...activities. It was weird to sign a contract, kinda felt like giving the deed of SSA over to this nerd-man. Pretty strange. As long as he loves me and my chins and my weird hair, we will be ok.
Bouquet with rosaries (not mine, trust), and detail of space-alien bouquet - very SSA-appropriate, I assure you. I liked the greenish lillies and the spiky purpley-blue flowers the best. Alien flowers, FTW
Hyde Park, VT (above) The Creepy Lady on the Landing Where We Got Married (directly above)
I had/have super, super excellent hair. It's like a punky Farrah thing goin' on here! Also note the bitchin' strands of pearls: kind of an asteroid belt of asymmetrical awesomeness, if you will. Round pearls are for bitches. I am also wearing dignified pearl earrings...right above my carved-bone swirly ones. IN YOUR FACE, CONFORMITY. I AM A UNIQUE SNOWFLAKE. 
No, really though...in all honesty, my extended family would've flipped the fuck out at this. Any of it. Mom, Dad, and Squidge, no prob. But still. Uptight squares whining about me is something I am glad I missed on this nice day. But I got to look how I damn well pleased, and it was fantastic.
Oh, and I am portly, not preggo. Just so you know. Looking a bit engorged with bb here. Maybe I ate a baby and forgot?
No, really though...in all honesty, my extended family would've flipped the fuck out at this. Any of it. Mom, Dad, and Squidge, no prob. But still. Uptight squares whining about me is something I am glad I missed on this nice day. But I got to look how I damn well pleased, and it was fantastic.
Oh, and I am portly, not preggo. Just so you know. Looking a bit engorged with bb here. Maybe I ate a baby and forgot?
Either way, Professor Manwife says it was a pretty good time.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
I have a question
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.
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.
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