#Metoo

Grabbed in a corner.
Held without permission.
I am someone’s daughter,
But you won’t even listen.

I said no!
I don’t want to.
If this was your wife,
What would YOU do?

What turns you on
About fear and disgust?
What about sex
Makes abuse a must?

I don’t like this.
You need to stop!
Touch me again
And YOU’ll need the cop.

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#Metoo

Pussytrap.

I was caught in a pussytrap once. That’s what my friend and I called it. We laughed about it later. Because it was so horrific and nothing to be done. No agency to report it to and no officer to tell.

Plus, when you’re young? You think the world is the way it is. And to squawk about it? Is unnecessary and useless. So laugh. So you don’t cry.

My friends and I went to a dance club in a university town. It was on a street with other clubs. Alcohol was served, but only to those with the over-21 stamp. I had the under-21 stamp.

We went to the bar to dance. Not to drink. We loved listening to music, dancing and laughing.

About 20 minutes in, we lined up to use the bathroom. The line stretched back to the bar and two young men started chatting us up.

We were young. Naive. We were friendly, inviting, charming, silly, laughing. We wanted boys to think we were cute. We wanted attention.

After a few moments, the line was going nowhere, and the boys started grabbing. First, my friend.

I was always the protector. The NO-sayer. The “Hey, watch it!” girl. So, I was laughing, but I said, “Hey! No!” Then they grabbed me.

First, my breasts. Quick, pinching, playful swipes and pokes. Then, my crotch. You can imagine that when someone grabs your breasts or tries to, you pull back. But that only presents your lower body for them to grab.

While all this was happening, another young man had positioned himself behind us. He would grab our butts when we tried to move away. Thus, the pussytrap. No way out. A vicious game of unwanted touching.

After a few moments of arms and punches and shuffling and finally just leaving without the use of the bathroom, we got away. We weren’t laughing any more. Just wide eyes and nothing to say.

That was it.

“Hey, why you leavin’?” They called after us.

No one ever taught me to stand up for myself. In fact, the lesson I learned was, “Take it.” But to be fair, my mother didn’t grow up in a time when young men acted this way. She didn’t know. And everyone else acted like it was no big deal. That this behavior was just “boys being boys”. Or locker room antics. Isn’t that what the president said to excuse his own behavior?

That should never happen. To anyone. It’s humilating. Not titillating. It’s meant to objectify and demean. It’s not foreplay. It’s degradation.

Especially to an actress. Especially to anyone who ever worked for or with the current POTUS.

These are your mothers, your sisters, your daughters, your friends, your neighbors, your coworkers, your fellow human beings. Your equals. Keep your hands to yourself. Or when we grab you back, you won’t like it.

If any man or boy ever touched my daughter like that, he’d be sorry. So would his balls.

Have I ever told you about the balltrap? LOL I’m older and wiser now.

Do something stupid. Again.

I just wrote an article about doing something stupid a few weeks ago. And I’m about to do another stupid thing.

Deep breath.

I have scheduled an open mic night at the local comedy club down here. No backing out. Nov. 15th.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! What have I done? I can’t not do it now. I’m weak in the knees just thinking about it. Freaking out a little.

I will try and tape it.

I’m sweating. Hard to breathe.

What am I doing??? I’m going to drive myself crazy for the next month. I was just practicing what I would say in the car on the way home.

After thinking about my bucket list (from my article this morning), I said to my husband, “I want to do an open mic night.” He found the website, dialed the number, handed me the phone. What???

OHHH! I can’t believe he did that. But thank you, Guy. I just didn’t expect you to be so spontaneous. I like it. But now I’m scared pantless.

He’s been helping me craft material this morning. EEEEK!

Wish me luck!

Allegations

Harvey Weinstein, Bill Cosby, Louis CK.

All stand accused. Are they all guilty?

For Harvey and Bill, let’s check the Magic 8 Ball–all signs point to yes. For Louis CK, I just don’t know. I really like his truthful, real-life comedy. I hope it’s not true. I would have to stop watching his stuff if it is. But it’s not for me to say in any case. That’s somebody else’s job.

What I do know, not all accused are guilty.


In the early 2000s, my husband and I served on a community theatre board. We were involved in day-to-day operations and acting in shows. We directed, performed, coordinated, sold tickets, designed, painted, printed, anything that needed doing we did. And loved it, mostly.

Our board was a tight-knit group of friends. Every show was just a pretense to hang out, laugh and sing some songs. I would linger long into the night with these people after rehearsal/performance. Talk big about the world, dream big about the future. It was a golden time.

Then the whole thing started to slide off into the ocean. Tremors were rumbling regarding allegations of sexual harassment.

The director of the summer musical was an older man in his 40s. A bachelor. He was a kind man with clear ideas. He was a bit arrogant, but friendly. He was the music and creative director of the show. A large task, but he was more than capable. He actually came to our home, had dinner. I cooked meatloaf. We got to know him. I’m glad.

Late into rehearsals, we had a costume parade 1-2 weeks before opening night. In community theatre, costuming was always a last-minute detail. Usually, each actor must provide the bulk (or lack thereof) of their costume, coordinating with the costumer and other actors to pull of a cohesive theme.

The show was not necessarily risque, but that summer Moulin Rouge had just come out and all the teenage girls in our production aspired to be the best dance hall vixen. Their costume choices reflected that mentality.

During one of our costume parades, the three girls in one of the lead ensembles came out in sparkly, festive, revealing costumes. Everyone reacted. Mostly appropriate reactions. Our director blushed, looked down at the floor and said with a shit-eating grin, “I’m not going to say ANYTHING!” Most everyone laughed.

That’s it.

That night or the next night, I’m standing in a parking lot, in an impromptu board meeting, talking about sexual harassment.

I tried to defend the director. These conversations went on for several weeks. I felt sympathy for the girl making accusations, but knew, for sure, nothing happened.

Should he have kept his mouth shut?
YES

Should he have said, “You look nice.” or “I approve.”
YES

Should he be black-balled and strung up?
Hell to the NO.

It was an awkward fumble. It was not sexual harassment, in my opinion. I was there. My husband was there. We saw it all and witnessed the alleged harassment. Nothing happened.

The loudest torch-carrying villager was a woman who was not even present during the incident. She bullied me for defending the director.

I relay all this, not to excuse the director’s faux pas. Not to excuse Weinstein, Cosby or Louis CK. To illustrate, sometimes there are witch hunts. Sometimes, the accused is just mildly stupid, awkward or mentally disabled, but not guilty. Sometimes, well, all the time, we need to withhold judgment and hear all the facts, first! Especially, if it’s up to you to decide what happens to the alleged creep. Let’s not crucify all men for what a few assholes did.


But. If it is true (and it looks like there’s mounting evidence), why did everyone sweep it under the rug? It’s disgusting!

And Harvey, if you did all this? Karma’s a bitch. That you molested for years. Time to pay.

Guy Maggio (Kacey Moe) said, “He may have been rich and powerful. Now, he’s just rich. But not for long.”

I agree. Taking this man’s power and money and reducing him to just an average toad is a well-deserved punishment. Should he do jail time? Would someone without his power and influence do jail time?

Blade Runner 2049

Saw BR today. Totally worth it. Went to see it in IMAX. Also totally worth it. The sound was amazing. I won’t spoil it. All I’ll say–the solar fields of Los Angeles are sad and breathtaking all at the same time. Well done. It might surpass the original in cinematography alone.

So good! If you appreciate science fiction and detective novels, go see it.

One more thing, all the actors are superb IMO.

Ok, last thing, the script is masterful.

299.4

Welcome to Loozers Lounge!! LOL I’m the biggest loser.

I broke 300.

I did not think this was possible! So excited. only 99 lbs until skin surgery. 😀 Better find a surgeon. Wish I had my weight loss surgeon. He’s the best. But I have to afford the surgery first. Flying back to KC would cost even more.

Who cares! I weigh 299!!! Woot!

Total loss=214 lbs!!!!!

This is good news.  This has been a tough week full of sadness and setbacks. Welcome, Good News! I needed you.

Pray for Heaven

Too many memes
To cover our screams.
Tell us to pray
And wish it all away.

Pray for Vegas

Our thoughts and prayers
Fall on dead ears.
Those victims are gone.
That gun has been drawn.

Pray for Orlando

Cut through the night
With muzzle flash light.
When will I succumb
To Madman overcome?

Pray for Dallas

Hunker down now.
Kneel and bow.
Live in fear.
My rights are clear.

Pray for Newtown

How many deaths
Are required for checks?
How many guns
Are required for one?

Pray for Columbine, Denver, San Bernardino, Virginia, Paris, London…

ETC.

Pray for the whole fucked-up world.


This isn’t about protecting your home. This isn’t about one pistol or rifle for sport. This is about limiting Goddamn military hardware for crazies. It shouldn’t be your right (and it isn’t BTW) to collect an arsenal. Well-regulated, I believe it says! And we’re not.

I’m tired of thinking and praying because the men in power who can control our safety aren’t listening. Gun manufacturers profit from the death of innocents.

Pray for Heaven to have Its way. This isn’t heaven.
This is hell and the NRA is the red one with the automatic rifle, horns, hooves and pointy tail.

Never Needed

WARNING: adult language. Sorry. Truly. God in heaven forgive me, but I’m tired of calling for change and nothing happens. Elementary school students were slaughtered and not a damn thing happened. NRA members who do nothing about their organization will burn in hell for letting innocents die to protect their rights.

I don’t want to live with the hypocritical bullshit of gun ownership in a country that tells me what to do with my vagina, my tax dollars and wants to deny me healthcare. A country that is actively trying to kill me slowly. Seems that there are more laws governing my reproductive system than there are restricting guns. I have zero tolerance for any maniac that says we don’t need gun control and can’t talk about it. And quite frankly, fuck you.

And now, a poem I wrote 7 months ago. Seems appropriate.


Never raped; never robbed.
Never threatened, molested, accosted or mobbed.

Never needed a gun.

The only man to ever abuse me
Was my dad who always accused me
Of being:
Lazy.
Fat.
Less than.
Ungrateful.
Worthless.

He owned 2 guns.

So if you ask me, “Do you want a gun?”
I would say, “No. Why would I need one?”

I’m beginning to wonder though.

If everyone who needs a gun
Buys a pistol. Rifle. AR-15. Grenade-lobbing launcher…
How will I protect my body? My daughter’s body?! My rights?
My right to exist.
How will I defend myself against those who have an entire arsenal at their disposal?

Do I want to live in a country
where I am required to arm myself
against those who would hunt me?
(Because they are paranoid
that the world is coming for:
their rights,
their guns,
their women
and most importantly,
their stuff!)

No.

No more alabaster cities that gleam,
We’d be no better than 3rd-world regime.
The kind that grabs power by force.
The kind that keeps boots on the necks of the poor.
The kind that muzzles our boisterous press.
The kind that punishes peaceful protest.
The kind that installs corrupt institution.
The kind that criminalizes sacrosanct Constitution.

No.

I don’t want to live with that.
I don’t want to die with that either.
But, no.
I will never need a gun.
Never needed a passport either…

302.8!

I am down to 302.8 today! I am less than 3 lbs away from the 200s! That’s amazing.

So that is a total of 211 lbs lost from my heaviest. 😀

For you that have chosen to go through gastric bypass or are in the early stages after surgery, you will hit plateaus! People don’t really talk about this. I have hit 2 major plateaus. Otherwise, it falls off.

I hit a plateau at 380 and one at 320. I seem to be through and back to losing now, but those sticky points are tough. Don’t lose faith. Always go back to the basics and you’ll come through it okay. Don’t worry, it’s only temporary.

I feel great today except for some unrelated jaw pain. I feel energized and alive. My activity level is getting higher and higher. My stamina is back and I can walk, work and even ride my bike.

I used to have to take short naps during the day or limit my chores/work/exercise. But no more! I’m awake all day, working, walking, riding, enjoying life again. 🙂 I hit the hay pretty hard at the end of it all, but that’s what you’re supposed to do!

Good luck to anyone contemplating surgery. It is totally worth it. And in some cases, the only cure.

I am, in fact, employable.

I got a job. Finally.

After months of looking and trying different things, I found a job. A good one. It’s only part-time, but it’s a start.

I’m driving for a medical courier company. Locally owned company and super friendly people to work with, even at the medical facilities.

I rode for the first time yesterday and everyone seems nice. You basically pick up bodily fluids (blood, urine, what have you!) from the doctor’s office and deliver them to a main lab, downtown, at a hospital. I won’t mention names since it’s confidential. And everything is sealed, bagged and kept in a cooler, so totally safe.

I’m not thrilled about being in a job that uses so much plastic, non-reusable bags and gas-powered vehicles, but this is the job. It’s super easy, flexible and pays well. I wish I had an electric car, then it would be even more lucrative and better for the environment. Maybe in the future I can afford a gasless car. That would be great.

But in spite of the impact on the environment, I am providing an essential service for patients. I can’t believe there isn’t a better way to transport lab work, but I don’t know enough about the industry yet to say. It’s 2017 though. Where’s the jetpack lab service we’ve all been dreaming about? Or on-the-spot blood and urine analysis with micro-biobots? Is that a dream everyone’s been having?? LOL

It’s something to pay the bills, get us by, and not have my soul slowly sucked out of my body in a mindless corporate atmosphere.

Plus, I start tax school in just a few weeks and that I’m looking forward to. I don’t support the current tax structure, but it’s what we have and I can’t wait to understand it better. I can still attend the school for free and it fits with my new schedule. Awesome!

And, of course, I’m going to still try and get Crafty B Designs off the ground again, start my party planning adventures, write my socks off. 🙂

It feels good to be productive again. To have my brain and body back. To find my determination and exuberance as well. I had them in my 20s. I missed you, Life.

I do have some really bad ear and jaw pain right now, but not enough to slow me down. I have a doctor’s appointment September 28th to rule out thyroid cancer residual nodules in my lymphnodes or such. Fingers crossed. Hopefully it’s just some weird sinus/ear tube thingie that’s easily treatable yet annoying as heck. And hopefully they won’t require a lab sample! LOL They would make me take it to the lab myself, I’m guessing.

So I’m no longer Taxi Beaver for people, just their fluids. ;D