I Made a Tumblr

Got bored. Made one. No rhyme or reason. Go forth and look if you wish. On an unrelated side note, tonight will be the shit. Mesquite BBQ ribs, scary movies, my sexy-ass stankan' man, a lake view and lots o' liquor. Envy my little life.

http://theuds.tumblr.com/

Fat

It's not something I usually address publicly or directly. I usually address it from a health standpoint (something I have been conditioned to do from my immediate family) by wanting to lose weight to be stronger, healthier and do the things I have always dreamed about doing. This is in part, true. I would love to be able to go for a jog, backpack, hike, go mountain climbing or surfing. As it is right now, I am not healthy enough for those pursuits. All these things I want to do, and yet I feel like enjoying my life is a secondary priority to other peoples expectations of me. That is, how I look. And how my looks make my immediate family feel about me.

I am fat. I have been for sometime now. There was a point in my life, when I wasn't. I was 150lbs. I was 16 and I looked like your typical American angst driven teenager. I dyed my hair pink, wore fishnet stockings, pouted my lips and showed as much tit as my school and parents allowed. I dated older boys, got drunk and flirted, spoke like a jaded 30 yr. old, and ultimately got complacent with the ideal I had always been searching for. Honestly, I let being attractive and skinny get to my head and got into an abusive relationship that went sour when my weight went up. This went on into my early 20's. ( I am still in my early 20's, mind you.) The point is, between my family and my then boyfriend of the time, I learned that hating myself was expected. That it was...normal? I don't know. Hating myself was who I was.

It's taken me a long time to realize that the people you love sometimes don't know jack-fucking-shit. A lesson I didn't learn as a child, but in my late teens. My current friends don't make any comments or disparaging remarks about me, nor does my husband. My family seems to be the only ones bothered by it. I don't want to get into detail about the specific things that have been said to me. It hurts too much right now. But it's ugly. It's mean and it's ignorant. That's right. IGNORANT. It's the kind of things you would see in a shitty Lifetime movie and think, "No ones parents are that douchey."

The simple thing I don't get, is why is fucking matters. Does it define who I am as a person? Does it make me less beautiful? Or does it simply make you feel like a failure and a shitty parent? I have a feeling it's the latter. Which, you know, I feel bad for them. Shouldn't your worth as a parent be measured by the happiness and fulfillment of the offspring? I guess not. I guess it's measured in pounds. I am not much to look at right now, overall. I am jobless, not in school and pretty much directionless. But I am 22. Isn't that the point? Sure, I want to lose weight, but it's not to feel worthy, it's to lose the baggage people have dumped on me since I was 14.

So as of right now, I am fucking done. I refuse to hate myself anymore. I refuse to not feel like a worthy human being because I wear a size 20. I refuse to be afraid of going out in public anymore because I have been conditioned to be hyper-aware of peoples opinions of me. I refuse to not go clothes shopping because I am afraid people will see me in something I haven't worn into a comfortable oblivion. And I refuse to keep  living for anyone's acceptance. The people who matter, don't give two squirts of piss about how I look.

So......

You guys can all go blow yourselves, I am beautiful.

I Love Slash Fan Art!

I stumbled across a website that contained an article called "Modern Vs. Old-Time Disney's Characters". I will warn you that it is NSFW, unless that is you want Gary in the cubicle next to you to start maintaining eye contact  at the urinal.

If you have the stones to click on it, you will be in for a big, sexy, homoerotic treat. There is nothing I love more than my favorite characters getting all gay with each other. I then decided to compile a short pictorial of some of my favorite hilariously gay fan art. Some are funny, some are disturbing and some are just down right gay. Enjoy:

I see that Prince Adam got to keep his beastly junk

Captain Kirk has just instituted a no singing policy and is about to show Spock  the repercussion of his actions.

"ello' poppet"

I am glad to see that NAMBLA finally found some poster boys

They don't call me Gandalf the White for nothing, you know.

LICK MY BOOTS, BOY!

Another Update From the Homefront

I didn't want to an update post again for awhile. My life is so mundane anyway, I didn't even think I would have an opportunity for a bit. But here I am again, sitting at my computer desk loopy from pain meds with a trash bag duct taped around my left hand. Why you ask? Have I been channeling Howard Hughes? No, dear reader. I have not gone off the deep end and decided that Kleenex boxes were the only suitable protection from germs. I am just a giant, horrible and desperately uncoordinated klutz.

Exhibit A:

In my defense, the stairs were a lie. This happened a little after 10pm last night after watching the most recent episode of  "True Blood" at Sara's house (which I can hardly remember because of all the bleeding).  I fell, as I so often do and I sliced my ring finger open on a porch column support. It sucked majorly. Luckily, Sara became my "Knight in Green Tube Top Armor" and drove me and Matt to the ER. Then Dr. "This is really going to suck for you" stuck a needle the size of a dildo into the surrounding wound flesh and continued to do so for a good 20 seconds.

"Baby, you know I treat you real good"

After that was done, it really didn't suck so bad. Except for the second anesthesia injection for the last bit. He gave me the option to keep powering through it or take the shot. I asked him if he was serious. He assured me he was. Now, I have never been sewn shut with a needle that looks like a fishing lure. But at that point I did know what it was like to be medically violated by Dr. Cenobite. I opted for the needle. It hurt...bad.


After I was all patched up, Matt, Myself, Sara, Shereya, Ryan and Spencer went to the bar until closing time. We all got hit on by creepy dudes, but Shereya got the worst of it. Some fat creepy guy rocking some mutton chops decided that her ear looked like a cozy home for his tongue. He then took his shirt off in the bar and cried into his beer. Some other dude tried to snatch me up and take me to Florida. And everyone in the bar sang along to "Rehab's Sittin' at a Bar".

 I didn't feel my finger anymore. But I do now. It fucking blows. And since our hot water had been off for four days, I hadn't been able to shower either. So Matt fashioned me with a couple shopping bags and some duct tape. I managed to wash my hair with my stump and I am no worse for wear. I hope someone gets a mild chuckle out of it. 

Fear the nub!!!!

So here I am. All loopy and in pain. But I am sewed up and alive. And clean. Now to relax, eat pizza, drink a beer and get some sleep. Some more finger pictures, for your enjoyment.

That white stuff? Yeah, that's my fat.

Extreme Mega Wedding Update Extraordinaire!!!

There has been a distinct lack of update on this blog. This is due in part to my internet going all berserk and not wanting to work and also to the fact that I got married over the weekend and then went on my honeymoon. That's right, you heard me. He liked it so he put a ring on it. But I am home now and this malarkey will indeed stop tonight. So I will bring the four followers I have up to date. 

I was married in Sullivan, IN on August 13th around 6ish in my grandfathers back yard. The ceremony only lasted about 3 mins. It sounds ludicrous, but it was exactly how we wanted it. We walked down the aisle to Isreal Kamakawiwo'ole's cover of "Somewhere the Rainbow". I was so nervous I barely heard it. Luckily, I had some kick ass bridesmaids who made some serious time down that aisle. I didn't want any of that sauntering shit. If you haven't heard this amazingly beautiful cover, get to love it. It's beautiful and happy, but there is a note in his voice that also makes it seem kind of melancholy. I heard my dad cuing it up to make sure it would play properly before the wedding, while I was getting ready and almost burst into tears. It didn't help that I was dictating my vows to one of my bridesmaids, Sara, at the time. She's got a blog over at http://octoberrayne.blogspot.com/. Go check it out. 

The wedding and reception was honestly kind of a blur. I wanted to talk to more people and mingle, but it felt like it went by so quickly.  There were a lot of pictures but so far I only have a few good ones to upload. That awkward walking man in the grey suit is my dad. I am the one with the top hat, and that hot piece of ass in the red tie and button boutonniere is my husband, Matt. I wonder, do you capitalize husband? Like a state?

Most laid back wedding....EVER.

It still hasn't really kicked in and to be honest, it's been an awkward transitional phase. I am a wife. I am someones wifey. It is a concept I haven't fully wrapped my brain around or appreciated yet. Jeff Bridges was on that stupid Pierce Morgan CNN show last week. I usually skip right over that shit but I love me some Jeff Bridges, even if he is pushing an album. He was talking about how he was terrified before he got married. He said that if if the common conception is that death is the final chapter in our existence, then marriage is a giant leap towards that final stage (death) by choosing to only be with one person for the rest of your life. So being afraid of marriage, is really being afraid of death. Pretty insightful for The Dude. 

Stephen Colbert thinks you have aged well, my son.

This has put things into perspective. Death is a scary thing, but we don't go around dwelling on it in our daily lives, unless we are a 14yr. old emo kid or insane. So being afraid of intimacy is ridiculous. It will take some time for me getting totally comfortable with it, but I know that Matt is the elusive "One". I am not scared of divorce. I am scared of finality. I was told so many times that nothing will change after marriage and in a big way, it's true. But there is a tugging feeling in my gut. Not a bad, nervous feeling. Just a difference. I don't feel it superficially, but it's telling me that things are just beginning and are going to be quite interesting, and different from being a selfish 20-something with no discernible life skills or ambition of any kind. 

The honeymoon was a blast, too. It went by so quick! We went to a resort town called French Lick. We stayed in a beautiful cottage, gambled, drank, danced, ate at quaint little restaurants and shopped. It was a lot of fun. And weird to think it is over. A year of planning for a couple little days. That's hard to grasp, too. Not that getting married was anti-climactic....except it kind of was. It went by so fast. A beautiful and carefree celebration of our love and now it's back to reality. Not that I am complaining. I was getting a bit homesick in French Lick. I missed my cat, my home and my friends.  

I will be adding more pictures as they become available to me, but for now this is what I got. I have not forgotten you, blogosphere. Life simply got in the way for awhile. Kind of pesky how it does that, huh?

Vitimin A and Night Walking

We started "The Post Apocalypse Survival Plan" on Monday. It was totally anti-climatic. We walked to get acquainted with our path. We didn't even make it to the first stop sign. Tonight, Wednesday, will be better. I plan on pushing myself harder tonight. Apparently Vitamin A is good for eyesight and night vision. I will have to get my hands on some carrots.

Goodwill, True Blood, Books and Creepy 90's Movies

For once I can say I am okay with Bill being in love with Sookie. I say this because he let Eric live. If they would have killed off Eric, I would have been done with the show. I don't want to commit to a show where my only choice is Bill "Messy Eater" Compton.

Matt and I went to Goodwill today. One of my favorite places on earth as they apparently don't know the value of a good book. That's a lucky thing for us book lovers. We can get them for 50 cents a pop. I don't know if I should be appalled or overjoyed. A little of both, I suppose. So I got a few.

Matt got some VHS's.  Total Recall, Happy Gilmore and What Women Want. So far, I am thoroughly creeped out by Total Recall. Even before his secret nanny love child, I found Schwarzenegger creepy. So to see his creepy gap toothed mug pop out of an even creepier middle aged woman was like a Nightmare literally popping out of another nightmare. No seriously. Watch the movie. He was inside this woman. What kind of bullshit was Ronald Shusett smoking? It doesn't help that the 1990's special effects are decidedly the most disturbing I have ever seen.

 Arnold Schwarzenegger is inside this woman.

All three of the books I bought are on "The New York Times Bestseller" list. Yeah, I said it. I don't give a fuck. Popular doesn't always mean it's totally shit. I am one of those people who judge books by their covers and I swear to god the people who choose the books on the list use marketing associates, color psychology and a gaggle of people in hard hats and lab coats to test the tactility. These fuckers are backed. Here they are:

Don't mind the boobs.

This one is about three middle aged southern women traveling down the Mississippi, Huck Finn style.

I am really interested in this one. I was raised Catholic and kind of fell out of it in my early teens. Apparently Garry Wills  ties in the history of the Catholic church with his explanation of his own beliefs and convictions.

 

This is the one I am really excited about. Telepathy, British period piece and a mysterious group of socialites called "The Order". It's a teen drama for adults. Right up my ally. 

 

I really love Goodwill books. I can tell these have never even been cracked. I could spend all day in there. The Vincennes Goodwill book section is getting no love. And no, that isn't an invite. Fuck off. It's mine. If I see you there I will chase you away toting the heaviest object in reach.