Can I call you Donald? I hope so because I won’t call you Mr. President. I don’t know if I should feel sad or angry today. Or just horrified. How do you feel? Do you feel? I sometimes wonder. I mean there is a right side and a wrong side of history, and you ARE the wrong side. Do you get that?
I’m a NASTY WOMAN. I’m talking horrid. Super Duper Nasty. I’m disgusting! And this Nasty Woman isn’t scared of little boys like you. And there are a lot of us. Hillary. Michelle. Beyoncé. Samantha. Megan. We are legion, and we are a helluva lot stronger than you are. We are daughters. We are wives. We are mothers. We are fighters.
And we’re not scared of you.
That’s right. We’re not scared of you. Not even a little. You are a tiny man who used the most undereducated voters to win. You used fear. Good for you, you clown. People like you try to scare people like me. But it doesn’t work. Because I’m smarter than you. I read books. Lots of books with words… all the best words.
“The split in America, rather than simply economic, is between those who embrace reason, who function in the real world of cause and effect, and those who, numbed by isolation and despair, now seek meaning in a mythical world of intuition, a world that is no longer reality-based, a world of magic.” ― Chris Hedges,
If you understood that, then you’ll get why the entire country is pissed today. Because we just put a fascist in the White House. You won because you pandered to the Americans who think they are being ‘displaced’. You pandered to people who are scared to lose their guns, lives, homes, money, country…anything…
But like I said. That’s not me. I don’t scare easy, and it takes more than a big, orange molester to scare me. I’ve gone up against men scarier than you. I can do it again.
I’m not scared of you because… You are a bigot. You openly hate people based on the color of their skin, or where they were born. That is something ignorant, stupid people do. Smart people look to those different to see what they can learn. Smart people think about how differences make us stronger. Not you. You want to build walls and deport people and assault women and who knows what else since you never really laid out any actual plans. Idiot.
I’m not scared of you because… you are scared of women. That’s right. You are scared of us. You called Hillary a nasty woman because you are scared of her. Of all of us. Of what our power, together, united could do. Will do. You judge women based on their looks. How “Hot” they are to you. (Good thing for you voters didn’t do the same. You fat, ugly, incoherent windbag.)
American women have been putting up with dickheads like you for decades. At home. At work. Walking to work. At the store. You name it. We get told about ourselves all the fucking time. (Just ask all of your ex wives! Two out of three being IMMIGRANTS, I might add.) Now we get to deal with a self-loving, woman hating, dickhead in the White House. And after Obama! He loved us! It sucks, but we’ll manage. Because we are not afraid of you. Hillary Clinton wasn’t scared of you. She’s smarter than you. You know it. She knows it. We know it. Her husband knows it. And speaking of Bill… please, PLEASE stop pointing out that Bill Clinton cheated on her twenty years ago. You hit on your own daughter in public all the time. You don’t deserve my respect. Or my fear. Just my vomit.
I’m not scared of you because... you are not intimidating. You are a joke. You mock people. You make little “jokes” at their expense. (Here’s a clue. A joke is supposed to be funny) You mutter under your breath like a child in trouble. Being afraid of you would be like being afraid of a three-year old.
And finally I’m not scared of you because I won’t let you take my rights aways from me. Or any woman. I won’t let you step on the constitution and I won’t let you try to hurt my immigrant brothers and sisters. My LGBTQ friends and neighbors. I won’t let you forget that BLACK LIVES MATTER. That WOMENS LIVES MATTER. That my body is MY BODY and if you even think of grabbing me by the pussy you’ll regret it.
So Fuck you, Donald. I don’t respect you now and I won’t when you are sworn in. You are a liar, a cheater, an idiot, and a bad salesman. And a bad writer. Your book is a piece of shit just like all of your businesses. Which You’ve bankrupted. And now you get to be in charge of Fucking Over America and our Daughters. And our Sons. You’ve set this country back decades with your bullshit machismo. With your blatant racism.
We had a chance to keep moving forward but collectively chose to move backwards. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.
And it’s all your fault.
I went grocery shopping on Thursday to get a jump on all the assholes getting ready for the “big storm” we are supposed to be having here in Seattle. But like a true Seattleite, this storm just couldn’t be bothered to be where it said it would. So I cooked chili and have a list of horror to watch and no storm. Not really. I mean, it’s windy. It’s grey. It’s been raining off and on for two days. But this is Seattle.
So, while my fella catches up with GLaDOS, I’ll give you a brand new list of horror movies. Movies I haven’t listed before! I’ve made a few lists of horror movies. I’ll link them here for you. https://alicia-prague-blog.com/2010/10/24/boo-25-best-movies-for-halloween/, https://alicia-prague-blog.com/2013/07/05/top-10-horror-satires/, https://alicia-prague-blog.com/2012/10/13/3213/, https://alicia-prague-blog.com/2013/10/01/the-scariest-ghost-movies-of-all-time/
Since some awesome movies have come out in the past few years, and I have overlooked a few, I thought it was the right time for another list. Enjoy!
Lake Mungo, (2008) – I’m putting it first so you don’t miss it. This is by far the scariest film on the list. And I do NOT scare easy. If at all. This is a documentary style horror film that leaves you wondering if it really isn’t true after all. It makes Blair Witch look like the footage my mom found of our camping trip to Lake Tahoe in 1988. I don’t want to say anything else. If you see one of these movies, make it this one. You’ll be sorry in all the right ways.
From the Dark, (2014) – I put this in the “survive the night” category of horror movies. All they have to do is make it until the sun comes up. That’s all. A couple who has… car trouble… finds a creepy house to take shelter in. Stupid.
Antichrist, (2009) – All of Lars Von Trier’s films should be classified as horror. I’m just saying. But this one… THIS ONE! Let’s just say you haven’t seen a “couple in a cabin in the woods” movie like this one before. Known only as HE and SHE, the already terrifying Willem Dafoe, and the always in need of a hug or a valium Charlotte Gainsbourg play the couple. If you have the stomach for it, this is a fantastically horrifying film that even seasoned horror fans like myself had trouble sitting through. A fucked up movie. It’s violent. It’s gory. And again, it’s directed by Lars Von Trier.
A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night, (2014) – I love horror movies in black and white. Maybe it’s a sentimental thing, but every shadow is creepier in black and white. This movie takes place in the aptly named Bad City, where darkness, death and loneliness are your new neighbors. It’s also about a skateboarding vampire badass bitch. It’s an Iranian film written and directed by a woman named Ana Lily Amirpour. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5WSMrSucjGA
The Vanishing (Spoorloos, 1988) – This movie fucked me up for a few days. Psychological terror is worse than a guy with a knife any day. This movie deals with that feeling of needing to know… A woman is abducted from a truck stop. Years later, after dedicating his life to finding her, he receives a letter from her abductor. An utterly devastating movie.
Wolf Creek, (2005) – My favorite way to begin any movie: BASED ON TRUE EVENTS. Ah, yes… Backpackers on a road trip. Does it ever end well for them? Not onscreen. Without giving too much away, this one deals with three Australians in the outback who run into some trouble and go looking for help. This movie is disturbing and it feels like someone is breathing over your shoulder the entire time. You’ll hate every second as much as you love it. A remake is due out this year, but see this first!
Dead End, (2003) – As the title suggests a family makes a really bad decision on their way to a family Christmas dinner. This is low budget horror at its best. And that’s all I’ll say about it. I don’t want to give anything away.
The Bad Seed, (1956) – An oldie but a goodie. The original Kiddie Killer is still the creepiest. Played to perfection by a young Patty McCormack, Rhoda Penmark is the perfect little angel. Most of the time. She just gets real upset sometimes. Another movie in black and white, this 1950’s film breaks from the monsters of the time and gives us something far more horrifying: CHILDREN.
Grace, (2009) – Speaking of fucked up children, have you seen Grace? I guess this is more of a fucked up mom, but still. After a tragic accident kills her husband and unborn baby, Madeline Matheson insists on delivering the baby to term anyway. And as you might have guessed, this baby doesn’t want Mother’s Milk. It’s gross and disturbing and pretty much perfect for mom’s to be.
Bug, (2006) – I’m still pissed at my friend who told me to watch this. This movie messed me up for like… six years now? It stars Ashley Judd and the always frightening Michael Shannon as two lonely losers who find solace in each other and a shared delusion. It’s insane. It’s scary. I took a shower after.
I’ve lived in the Emerald City for two years now, and that’s long enough for me to form some qualified opinions. Hopefully the people of Seattle will handle criticism a little better than the folks of Austin! Because, who am I? Why get pissed at some girl and her blog? This is just my opinion. I’m writing from my personal experience. That experience may be different from your own. And, I hate having to even say this, but there is always some asshole who has to comment, “Not ALL ______ are _____.” No shit. It’s called a generalization and it takes into consideration that, of course not every person in Seattle will be like I describe. But, there. I’ve said it. Feel free to give up now if you don’t like reading criticism of things which you might not agree.
The Nature: You can’t get a greener, more beautiful city than Seattle. It’s the first thing you notice when you get here. There are trees everywhere! Green spaces all over the city. And there is the bay! Most days you can see Mt. Rainer in the distance. Even grey, cloudy days are beautiful here. And you still get all of the seasons, more or less. As I type this, I can feel Fall on the horizon. People here genuinely love to be outdoors, and there are plenty of places within city limits to do just that. Whether you love being on the water, hiking in the mountains, or just taking the long way to brunch – you’ll fit in here. Seattle prides itself on its green spaces and dedication to being a Green City. And it is on a large-scale. It’s when you get down to the personal level that it gets fuzzy. For example I see people getting their groceries delivered by Amazon (as well as everything else) and then drive to work in their SUV plastered with an SHOP LOCAL bumper sticker. When I worked in a bookstore, people would tell me how much they detested Amazon…until the book they “had to have right now” wasn’t available. Seattle can’t put its money where it’s mouth is.
This is a dog loving, baby loving, cat on a leash loving, chickens in your back yard loving, bike loving city. If you happen to be a Bike person, you will love it here. There are tons of Bike trails for you and your dog and baby to cruise down. There are bike lanes all over the city which go unused because this city has no clue how to drive anything. Cars. Bikes. Strollers all seem too overwhelming to the Seattleite. The Seattleite in control of a vehicle is an oxymoron. They are not in control. The Seattle Driver will stop at any given moment to let you, a pigeon, or a stray dog cross the street. But if there is a Stop sign, they’ll ignore it. The only city in the world responsible for its own traffic.
Weather and Stuff: The weather here is awesome! I loathe heat and humidity, so the cool bay breeziness of Seattle is perfect. It gets hot here in the summer (90-95 F) but it only lasts a few days at a time. It rains here, but not as much as movies and TV would make you think. I like it here. I often leave my flat and say, “Man! It’s beautiful today!” Sun and clouds. It’s usually not too hot, and not too cold. YAY!
I don’t drive here. I donated my car to charity a few years back and I feel free! Seattle is FOR SURE, a walkable city. You do not need a car to get around here. There is public transit (bus, tram, metro) and it’s pretty good towards getting better. Not as good as Europe, but way better than L.A. or Texas. Traffic is a real thing here, but I never deal with it.
As far as Culture and stuff – Seattle is awesome. There are tons of museums and galleries here at different price points. So if you can’t make it to see art and shit, that’s on you. The EMP Museum, The SAM and the Asian Art Museum are awesome, and that’s just scratching the surface. It’s like San Francisco here in that, what ever you are into – you can indulge it here. For example, I happen to love Drag Queens. Seattle is a fantastic place to love Drag. Or all things Gay. Or Food. Or sports. (Which is HUGE here, but I loathe sports so I ant gonna write about it.) Or tech. Or Dance. Whatever “Lifestyle” you identify with is welcome here. Seattle prides itself on being welcoming. And it is. To an extent. (See PEOPLE, below)
Food: What ever you want, you can get it in Seattle. Seattle is not only a Foodie paradise, but a Chef’s Haven as well. Seattle not only has some of the best restaurants in the country, but also some of the best available ingredients in the world. Fish, produce, meat, artisan ice-cream … whatever you want you can find it here. And unlike Austin, the finest food isn’t reserved for the rich. You can get a really good meal here for $10 or less if you know where to go. From food trucks to pizza to fine dining, you can’t beat Seattle for food. People here like to eat and take pictures of their food and talk about it. You could go into any neighborhood and get a good meal. That is something.
Seattle is a BRUNCH and HAPPY HOUR city. It LOVES Brunch. It LOVES Happy Hour. But be careful. Not all Happy Hour and Brunch menus are created equal. You might end up paying an arm and a leg just to be in a cool place with shitty food. But, that’s also part of Seattle. For the Seattleite getting a pretty picture of the food is almost better than the food tasting good.
Cost of Living: If you are reading this hoping for statistics and facts, you should stop now. The following is based solely on my personal opinion and experience living here and there. So that being said… Is Seattle expensive? Yes. I mean, I guess. It’s like a slightly less expensive San Francisco. You get everything you could want in a city: diversity, culture, night life, boozygoodtimes, live music venues, and all the other things people look for in a cool city. But it’s not unlike any other major US city. It depends on where you live. I happen to live in a small studio with my boyfriend. We split rent. It’s a little cramped, but it’s alright. We are walking distance from work and fun so it evens out.
The law passed making the minimum wage here $15.oo and weed is legal. Like You can go to pot stores. Or have it delivered like I do. A bag of Peet’s Coffee will set you back about $8.00 at the market. Don’t ask me how much Starbucks is because I’m not an asshole and I don’t spend money there.
The People: Anyone will tell you that the folks of Seattle, WA are nice. And that’s true. They are. Excessively. Seattleites will happily stop what they are doing to give you directions or say hi. It is a friendly city. On the surface. Which is to say that friendly is surface level only. If you wanna make friends with a Seattleite, good luck. Welcome to the land of Passive Aggressive.
It’s called The Seattle Freeze. Basically it’s a nice way of saying that everyone here is so far up their own ass that they don’t want to make new friends, but they are too passive aggressive to just say so. Nobody wants to offend here so they lie instead. If you Google the term SEATTLE FREEZE, you will get this: refers to a belief that it is especially difficult to make new friends (particularly for transplants from other cities) in the city of Seattle, Washington. According to KUOW radio, a 2005 Seattle Times article was the oldest reference to the term found.
That shit is real. Two years in and have like three actual friends. I’ve made friends all over the world, easy! But Seattle? Sorry girl. Not here. The free paper here, The Stranger, wrote an article last year which basically blames YOU for Seattleites bad behavior. Honestly. YOU should smile. YOU should get out there! The article says, if a Seattleite bails on plans you should do the following. “Rather than mope about how this person let you down by not doing what they said they would do in a hastily sketched conversation days or even weeks before, try to empathize with them. People are busy, and it’s impossible to fulfill every potential social commitment. Pretend for a moment it’s possible that they might have something more important on their calendar than you.” Did you notice how full of excuses that was? Like its hard to pick up the goddamn phone and cancel. Be a grown up.
And that’s Seattle in a nutshell. It expects you to make excuses for its bad behavior. If you get stood up, that’s your fault for expecting people to do what they say. I don’t give a shit where you are from, or what excuses you have all packed up, don’t be a dick. Don’t make plans you don’t expect to follow through on. And don’t expect ME to be the guy who fills in lulls in conversations. Why can’t YOU help? Stop blaming everyone who isn’t from Seattle for your shortcomings. You guys aren’t perfect. For starters, learn to be direct. I grew up in L.A. and it’s hard for me to deal with people who are not direct. People who are not direct come across as self-indulgent, time-wasting jerks. How hard is it to ask for what you want? How hard is it to say what you mean? I worked at Seattle’s Snobbiest Bookstore for two years and endured people taking ten minutes to ask where the goddamn bathroom was. Here is a typical conversation: “Um, excuse me? Um…Hi. Um. Do you work here? Okay good. I was wondering if you happen to know if there might be a place for me to use the bathroom around here.” Are you fucking kidding me? Try this: “Where’s the bathroom?”
So. There it is. The good and the bad. In a nutshell – Seattle is a fantastic place to live. It’s pretty. The food is great. There is a ton of fun stuff happening here year round. Theatre, Dance, Burlesque, Karaoke, Festivals, Live music – Seattle has it all. And, If you get along well with passive aggressive people who don’t think they are passive aggressive, then you’ll be ahead of the game.
I love Chelsea Handler. I am late to the party on this, I know. People have been loving her for years, and I just started. Her new show on Netflix is BADASS, and I completely agree with her on everything from NOT HAVING KIDS to NOT GETTING MARRIED. Honestly I think she and I could be friends except for her obsession with dogs. But, we all have our faults.
Her show is great with one exception: When her niece is on. For someone who is constantly telling everyone how obnoxious other people are about their kids, (PREACH!) she’s doing the same thing with her niece. She has her on often, and the kid is annoying. REALLY ANNOYING. The kind of kid who is only adorable to their family…like all kids. She is twelve (I think) and says she wants to be “well-known” when she grows up. She doesn’t really care how or what for, she just wants to be famous. SO NOT CUTE.
Being famous for the sake of being famous is… weird. And gross. When I was coming up you had to actually have a talent in order to get famous. Well, a talent or a scandal. But that is a horse of a different color and I digress. I bet it’s confusing for kids today. I mean, Chelsea Handler seemed to work hard and pay her dues. But there are so many “models” out there and … whatever the Kardashians are, who make being pretty sound like a talent. It isn’t. Modeling is (barely) a job, and you are lucky if you can earn a living at it. Lucky, not talented. Maybe it takes some sort of talent to model, but not the same kind as it does to act or sing or dance or sew or cook or design or direct or teach or write.
If you look at the social media of any famous pretty person you’ll see all of the “hard work” that goes into being famous for being pretty. I call bullshit. Nobody NEEDS a cryogenic freezing chamber to be pretty. And, I’m pretty sure Kate Hudson was just as pretty BEFORE her weird electro-eye treatment as she was AFTER. It’s all bullshit. All of it. The worst are the selfies from the gym. Is this supposed to show me what an effort it is for you? Tips? What? I mean really. How shallow are you that you need to post videos of your workouts? If you want to lose my respect, just post a video or a selfie from the gym.
I guess what I am trying to say is this: Shift focus. Focus on what is INSIDE. Perhaps learn a SKILL and “get famous” for actually DOING something. And here’s a crazy idea, don’t post everything to social media! You don’t need applause or LIKES for living your life. You’ll keep living even if nobody sees it. The more we encourage kids (especially girls) to “look pretty” the longer we perpetuate the myth that beauty matters; that beauty is something you can achieve. It isn’t. Nothing subjective can ever be achieved. You will never be beautiful to everyone. Sorry to burst your bubble. Sure you can have surgery, use make-up, weaves, extensions… but you will still be you underneath all of those excuses. Instead, work on being YOU. Work on thinking you ARE beautiful just the way you are. And if you STILL want to be famous, figure out what you are good at DOING and practice it. You can be famous and perhaps be remembered for something other than your face. Cause guess what… your face won’t last forever.
I am no stranger to being unemployed. I’ve been fired, downsized, asked to leave, quit, resigned, and every other euphemism you can think of. When I’ve been asked to leave, it was never because I stole money or had poor performance. In fact last time I sat through a five minute speech about what a great employee I am but…
It’s always because I rock the boat. I don’t like being treated unfairly, and I won’t sit still when I see it happening. To me or anyone else. In San Francisco I was fired for standing up for a coworker. She was canned for “looking unbecoming” at work. Her mother had just died. I was HAPPY to speak up on her behalf, and I couldn’t believe that nobody else had the balls to say anything. People keep their mouths shut and fall in line in order to keep their silly job. But why? There are plenty of jobs out there. Why work for assholes? For instance: My last job paid me $12.60 and hour. That’s not a living wage here in Seattle. And that was after two years and three raises. When asked to work from home on projects I was told there wouldn’t be compensation. I was mocked asking, and for refusing to work for free. By my boss. Good riddance.
I’ve never found anything wrong with being unemployed. Even when living overseas I was able to find work rather quickly. But this time was different. It took me a little over four months to find a job. Four months of looking at Craigslist and Indeed.com. Four months of filling out online applications and four months of first interviews. Four months of no income and the same amount of bills. Four months of wondering if I’d ever find a job. Four months of rice and noodles. It’s hard not to get bogged down in the negativity of the situation, but you can’t stop trying.
And now all of that is officially over. I found a nice job that pays way better than my last job and doesn’t ask me to work nights and weekends. But I am going to miss some parts of being unemployed. (And please, please don’t call it Fun-employment. I can’t fucking stand when people make up new words to make themselves feel superior. I mean…what an asshole! You’re out of a job. Just call it what it is. Unemployment. What you do with your time might be SUPER fun, but let’s not overstate things.) I’ll miss being able to luxuriate over my book and coffee in the morning. And I’ll miss taking walks to pet the bookstore cats. Here’s what I did on my … unemployment. Aside from looking for work everyday. There is a lot of time to fill.
So, that was it. I got a little despondent there at the end, but it helped to remember that I am not my last job. Or any job. Identifying with your work is just another way for Ego to exert itself. Luckily I have never had a job where that was really an issue. I mean what kind of an asshole gets a big head over being an Admin Assistant or Program Director? Or worse yet, a Bookseller who makes under minimum wage? If I made those roles part of “who I am” then I would have taken a long run off a short cliff years ago. Even if you have a job you LOVE and you are GOOD at it… that isn’t WHO YOU ARE. Above all, you are a human being. What you like or do… or don’t do… is beside the point.
My Dad always said that I was left on the doorstep by Gypsies. Although my older brother was also adopted, it seemed my parents had gone through proper channels in order to get him. I pictured little Baby Me sleeping quietly as the caravan pauses for an old Gypsy woman, nothing more than a shadow, to leave me on the porch. My mom opens the door to find a baby in a horrid over-sized, quilted bag. She is almost as excited about the baby as she is about the bag. (She had at least two dozen purses, bags, totes, handbags, pocketbooks, and fanny packs. She collected them. Any trip to Mervyn’s or JC Penny’s was guaranteed to result in at least a half an hour comparing purses, checking which had the most hidden pockets.) This particular ugly bag was used to hide the popcorn she would smuggle into the movies. It had two acrylic hoops which served as handles. Pull those hoops apart and there’s enough room for a family sized bag of home popped popcorn. Or a five pound baby girl.
It was odd to me that my brother would just accept that he was adopted. What did that mean? Didn’t he want to know how he got there? My parents never told any stories about how they got him, and he seemed content with that. He was just adopted. End of story. I was not so easily swayed. Having completely and enthusiastically believed the Gypsy Story, my mother had her work cut out for her convincing me that Dad was only teasing. Any story about an adoption agency would have been met with skepticism. It was obvious they were hiding something. They never outright told me I was adopted, so I figured there must be a better story. A story so lurid, so filled with danger and betrayal, Gypsies and strangers in dark alleys, that they could never tell me.
So I invented my own Origin Stories. They were Fairy Tales. Small, swaddled Baby Me adrift in a heavily reeded river or left in a basket with vegetables on the doorstep of an orphanage. (The influence of my forced biblical training evident in hindsight.) The story I liked best featured me as a Chinese Princess, forced to live with a strange family because my mother, The Chinese Queen, had an affair with a white man and had to give me away or face death.
The fact that I looked nothing like the rest of my family only bolstered my fantasies. My brother was tall and goofy looking. One of those kids who stands out for all the wrong reasons. I was small and dark and chubby. As a baby I was called Apple due to my physical resemblance of the fruit. My skin tone was olive. If I went in the sun for five minutes I would return like a golden chestnut. My brother, mother and father would burn. Trips to the beach took hours to prepare for because my mother needed a tarp, a hat, a shawl, and an umbrella. Just for herself. Fair skinned, lightly freckled and in desperate need of braces, my brother’s adolescence culminated in a love a country music and cowboys. His awkward phase following him into high school and intensifying when he willingly joined not only the school choir, but the cheerleading squad as well. By the time he was a senior in high school he was 6’3, a yell leader, and a stand out in the school choir, where your only job is to blend in. He was the kid who performed Stand Up at the school talent show.
We shared no common traits or interests. This was always a comfort to me. I didn’t like the things that he did, and if genetics were responsible for bad taste in music, or being stupid then I was safe. We lived in the same house, our bedrooms close enough to talk through the wall, but we had absolutely nothing in common. We were, and remain to this day, total opposites. He’s 6’3, and I’m 4’11. He’s a loud mouth Republican, and I’m a loud mouth Democrat. He doesn’t read. I’ve dedicated my life books. He still has bad taste in music, and I still don’t. He is pretty Vanilla. I’m more Neapolitan. My brother’s favorite things include large gold chains, Hawaiian shirts, alcohol, cigars, and Donald Trump. Mine don’t.
The older I got the more delighted I was to be adopted. It explained why I was nothing like my family, and It was far more glamorous. I could be whatever I wanted! I claimed every ethnic origin thrown at me. A friend’s mother convinced me I was Italian, so when I was at her house, I was Italian! I added homemade Anisette to my espressos. I understood that fresh cannoli was better to store bought. I was Italian! Another mother swore I was Jewish, so I claimed that as well and developed a taste for Manischewitz. Sometimes I fantasized that I was Liza Minnelli’s illegitimate daughter born from an illicit affair with either Peter Sellers or Andy Warhol. Celebrity Mom forced into Betty Ford right after giving birth to Secret Baby! And sometimes my parents were just a couple of teenage kids from Tujunga. Just poor white trash who had to give me away because they were just too goddamned young and stupid. Maybe Trailer Trash Mom is out there somewhere, snacking on pink coconut snack cakes, thinking of the baby girl she had to give away all those years ago. Missing me in her daydreams, and snapping out of it when her actual child screams at her from his high chair in front of the television.
HI! Here’s a GREAT reading list for summer! Posted 2 years ago TODAY!
June is called “mid-summer” even though it is technically the beginning of the season. It’s the month of weddings, graduations, and pool parties. This is my first summer in almost eight years that I am not landlocked. Austin was just hot and steamy. Prague is pretty rad, but it doesn’t have an ocean or bay. Summer just isn’t the same without open water and a book to read.
Here is a list of books for your own Mid-Summer enjoyment and relaxation. Best if enjoyed near open water! (You can get any of these books at your local library, or Independent Bookseller.)
Jaws by Peter Benchley (1974) – You’ve seen the movie. It scared you from going into the water for years. Now read the book. It is quite possibly the greatest beach read and the one that will keep you from putting even a toe into the ocean again.
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Hey guys. I thought I do a little bit of shameless self promotion by linking my YouTube channel. At the moment, it is small with just a few songs, but I will be updating it regularly.
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