juuulio lugo (juuulio lugo), he's the reason for the word bitch (bitch!)
very, very important question: these shoes, fug or fab?
Poll estos zapatos:
because, i don't know, they are teal, which i love, but i sort of hate that weird webbing bullshit on the toes. it reminds me of those hideous plastic beaded slipper shoes that everyone wore four summers ago that i wanted to melt in a fire while they were still on the wearers' feet.
i usually don't post about this because it's fucking boring, but i have really bad insomnia. (it's so bad and it's been so long that i didn't realize how bad it was until i was describing it to my doctor -- what, it doesn't take everyone 2.5 hours to fall asleep at night?) a couple months ago, i started taking sleeping pills, which have somewhat improved my situation. but i don't take them when i've been boozing, because i'm afraid of dying in a pool of my own vomit. on saturday night i came home the derby party a little bit after midnight, acted drunk and belligerent, yelled our downstairs neighbors for being noisy, downloaded and forced julia to listen to a miley cyrus song (note: i regret nothing!) and then i went to bed. and then i abruptly woke up at four am and never fell back asleep.
which is a very long-winded way of justifying the fact that, on sunday morning at 5:30am, i ended up watching the pilot for sliders on hulu. i vaguely remember watching this show and thinking it was slightly ridic when i was a kid, but it was SO MUCH WORSE THAN I REMEMBER:
1. jonathan rhys-davies chewing scenery.
2. sabrina lloyd terrible feathered haircut.
3. jerry o'connell's character being so much more of a huge asshole than i remember.
4. terrible, terrible mid-nineties soundstage production values.
5. poor rembrandt.
the pilot was about a soviet-run alternate universe, which probably seemed a lot more chilling in 1995. or … not. also, isn't the premise of this show to skip creating an original source and go straight to the 2,226 badfic AUs? it's actually kind of meta. how would you write a sliders crackfic AU? they'd all lead boring non-parallel universe lives in san francisco. that'd be hilarious.
i try to be conscious about how much time i spend wambulancing about straight privilege, because i think it's important to acknowledge that whatever marginalization i experience as a queer person, i am still soaking in white middle class privilege. that said, though, god damn if this story did not make me want to light a bitch on fire.
when i was in high school, one of my father's co-workers used to pay me to come help her with her gardening. her "garden" was actually a patio about the size of an office cubicle, and so we'd "garden" for about a half an hour and then spend an hour drinking coffee and talking about traveling. she was older, and lived alone, and had recently gone through a very amicable divorce.
(see, the set-up makes you think the story is going in a certain direction, but the set-up is just a red haring!)
i haven't talked to this woman in, i don't know, eight years or so, but i happened to be visiting my parents when she called to ask them how i was doing a couple months ago and i talked to her and found out that she was going to be in boston for a wedding in may and i gave her my phone number so we could have dinner. so she called me this week and wanted to know if i could pick her up from the airport and i was like, "uh, i don't have a car." and she was so flabbergasted that i didn't have a car and i'm explaining, you know, it's a big city, you don't really need a car, for me it's a total luxury because cars are stupid money pits, blah blah blah, and then the following conversation took place:
her: so you like boston? you think you'll make your home there?
me: yeah, i really like it, i think i'll definitely stay here for at least a few more years and see how things go.
her: do you have a boyfriend?
me: no, i don't have a boyfriend.
her: oh, i figured you'd say that you had a boyfriend and you were going to get married.
side note: so the implication is that the only reason i'd live in a particular place is because i had a boyfriend there? that's awesome! also, yes, i know i could have just said, "nope!" and left it at that, but, fuck it.)
me: well, i'm a lesbian, and i'm not getting married.
side note x 2: because, suck it! i live in massachusetts! being a lesbian and getting married are not mutually exclusive!)
her: OH!
me: [dies a little inside]
her: well, that's okay!
me: [dies a little more inside]
her: are your parents okay?
me: yeah, they're fine.
side note x 3: because i told them, i don't know, eight freakin' years ago.
her: well, that's okay with me! you're my friend! i still like you no matter what!
me: [contemplates lighting phone on fire.]
several things:
1. yes, i know, technically this was a positive reaction. but, you know what? fuck that. when someone says that they still like you no matter what, they're implying that they like you despite a perceived obstacle. my lesbianism is not an obstacle to somebody wanting to be my friend. it's something that's "okay" or "not okay." it's like gravity and the fact that i have curly hair. if someone assures me that they still like me after i come out to them, i know that they usually mean well, but i just end up wanting to punch them in the face, because the uncomfortable implication is that they're aware that continuing to like me as a person was a choice that they consciously had to make. and that's bullshit.
2. i read this great blog, hobo stripper, about a woman who travels around the country working at strip clubs and living in a van. she posted recently about things people say when she tells them she's a stripper and how everything other than "that's great" carries some implied judgment. if someone comes out to you and you are not a raging homophobe, say "that's great!" the end.
3. what's hilarious is that, based on everything i described at the beginning of this story, i totally thought she was a lesbian the entire time i helped her "garden" when i was in high school. maybe i should tell her that when we have dinner and then say, "but it's okay! i like you no matter what!"
Poll estos zapatos:
because, i don't know, they are teal, which i love, but i sort of hate that weird webbing bullshit on the toes. it reminds me of those hideous plastic beaded slipper shoes that everyone wore four summers ago that i wanted to melt in a fire while they were still on the wearers' feet.
i usually don't post about this because it's fucking boring, but i have really bad insomnia. (it's so bad and it's been so long that i didn't realize how bad it was until i was describing it to my doctor -- what, it doesn't take everyone 2.5 hours to fall asleep at night?) a couple months ago, i started taking sleeping pills, which have somewhat improved my situation. but i don't take them when i've been boozing, because i'm afraid of dying in a pool of my own vomit. on saturday night i came home the derby party a little bit after midnight, acted drunk and belligerent, yelled our downstairs neighbors for being noisy, downloaded and forced julia to listen to a miley cyrus song (note: i regret nothing!) and then i went to bed. and then i abruptly woke up at four am and never fell back asleep.
which is a very long-winded way of justifying the fact that, on sunday morning at 5:30am, i ended up watching the pilot for sliders on hulu. i vaguely remember watching this show and thinking it was slightly ridic when i was a kid, but it was SO MUCH WORSE THAN I REMEMBER:
1. jonathan rhys-davies chewing scenery.
2. sabrina lloyd terrible feathered haircut.
3. jerry o'connell's character being so much more of a huge asshole than i remember.
4. terrible, terrible mid-nineties soundstage production values.
5. poor rembrandt.
the pilot was about a soviet-run alternate universe, which probably seemed a lot more chilling in 1995. or … not. also, isn't the premise of this show to skip creating an original source and go straight to the 2,226 badfic AUs? it's actually kind of meta. how would you write a sliders crackfic AU? they'd all lead boring non-parallel universe lives in san francisco. that'd be hilarious.
i try to be conscious about how much time i spend wambulancing about straight privilege, because i think it's important to acknowledge that whatever marginalization i experience as a queer person, i am still soaking in white middle class privilege. that said, though, god damn if this story did not make me want to light a bitch on fire.
when i was in high school, one of my father's co-workers used to pay me to come help her with her gardening. her "garden" was actually a patio about the size of an office cubicle, and so we'd "garden" for about a half an hour and then spend an hour drinking coffee and talking about traveling. she was older, and lived alone, and had recently gone through a very amicable divorce.
(see, the set-up makes you think the story is going in a certain direction, but the set-up is just a red haring!)
i haven't talked to this woman in, i don't know, eight years or so, but i happened to be visiting my parents when she called to ask them how i was doing a couple months ago and i talked to her and found out that she was going to be in boston for a wedding in may and i gave her my phone number so we could have dinner. so she called me this week and wanted to know if i could pick her up from the airport and i was like, "uh, i don't have a car." and she was so flabbergasted that i didn't have a car and i'm explaining, you know, it's a big city, you don't really need a car, for me it's a total luxury because cars are stupid money pits, blah blah blah, and then the following conversation took place:
her: so you like boston? you think you'll make your home there?
me: yeah, i really like it, i think i'll definitely stay here for at least a few more years and see how things go.
her: do you have a boyfriend?
me: no, i don't have a boyfriend.
her: oh, i figured you'd say that you had a boyfriend and you were going to get married.
side note: so the implication is that the only reason i'd live in a particular place is because i had a boyfriend there? that's awesome! also, yes, i know i could have just said, "nope!" and left it at that, but, fuck it.)
me: well, i'm a lesbian, and i'm not getting married.
side note x 2: because, suck it! i live in massachusetts! being a lesbian and getting married are not mutually exclusive!)
her: OH!
me: [dies a little inside]
her: well, that's okay!
me: [dies a little more inside]
her: are your parents okay?
me: yeah, they're fine.
side note x 3: because i told them, i don't know, eight freakin' years ago.
her: well, that's okay with me! you're my friend! i still like you no matter what!
me: [contemplates lighting phone on fire.]
several things:
1. yes, i know, technically this was a positive reaction. but, you know what? fuck that. when someone says that they still like you no matter what, they're implying that they like you despite a perceived obstacle. my lesbianism is not an obstacle to somebody wanting to be my friend. it's something that's "okay" or "not okay." it's like gravity and the fact that i have curly hair. if someone assures me that they still like me after i come out to them, i know that they usually mean well, but i just end up wanting to punch them in the face, because the uncomfortable implication is that they're aware that continuing to like me as a person was a choice that they consciously had to make. and that's bullshit.
2. i read this great blog, hobo stripper, about a woman who travels around the country working at strip clubs and living in a van. she posted recently about things people say when she tells them she's a stripper and how everything other than "that's great" carries some implied judgment. if someone comes out to you and you are not a raging homophobe, say "that's great!" the end.
3. what's hilarious is that, based on everything i described at the beginning of this story, i totally thought she was a lesbian the entire time i helped her "garden" when i was in high school. maybe i should tell her that when we have dinner and then say, "but it's okay! i like you no matter what!"