the fundamentalist in my head

I just found out that I have a fundamentalist in my head. He's ugly, lemme tell you.

You know when you run into a fundy on the street who tries to tell you that you are a sinner and gays are ruining everything and Jews are the devil and AIDS is god's punishment and the streets are made of black licorice? You try to tell him "Nope, I'm a queer Jewish chick and I'm neither the devil nor ruining anyone's life and really nice people get HIV every day." but he doesn't believe you.

Arguing with that guy is futile because no matter how much logic you use, he is still going to believe the black licorice theory. Same guy in my head.

He's been telling me that my desk is fine and I'm not supposed to be hungry and needing/wanting stuff both tangible and intangible is bad (like sin-bad even though I'm an atheist Jewess and don't believe in sin - though I do believe in Sinbad - we have the same tattoo artist).

OK. We have to get rid of this guy.

My legs do not fit under my desk because it is an adolescent desk and not built to fit a grown up. The fundy tells me that my desk works just fine. It is a fine desk. I do not need a new desk, I only want a new desk which is selfish and childish of me. If I do get a new desk, he says, it must be the perfect desk. It cannot be an okay desk, it must be THE DESK. This fundy must die.

If you've made it through that mess of drama, I need to ask a bitty favor. Send your love and good thoughts to Crazy Aunt Purl today. She's havin' a tough one and needs a little lovin'.

Liam and my latest theories

Go to sleep, post on blog...hmmm. Post on blog.

Today I went to see my friend Jill. Jill and I have been friends since we were two years old. I have known her since we were picking our noses in public. I have pictures, I just can't find them right now. It's 11 p.m. You'll have to forgive me. Now she's a Ph.D. Smart chick.

Anyway, Dr. Jill and her rocket scientist husband, Patrick, just had a baby named Liam. I came up with a song about Liam in my dreams one night. I dreamed it was a really good song and when I woke up I was singing it.

It wasn't a really good song. It went like this: "Liam Liam Liam Liam Liam Liam Liam Liam Liam Liam Liam Liam" Not nearly as chart topping as I remembered in my dream. So this is a photo of Liam and Jill from today. The photo is from before the barfing began. By the way, Liam, in addition to being short for William, is Li' Am meaning "My People" in Hebrew. Pretty cool, huh?

This kid is seriously cute and his hair is unreal. I swear he was born with a mohawk. It looks like they are putting gel in his hair every day but let me tell you, there has not been enough sleep in this household to know where gel might be much less to actually get it in his hair.

I wasn't going to post any other pictures but a picture of me holding Liam made me laugh hard. He seriously looks like he's saying who the fuck is this chick and why is she holding me like this? Can you see his raised eyebrow?

After Jill's pad, I went to therapy (big surprise) and then on to Stitch n' Bitch.

We came to a few conclusions at our meeting this evening:
1. Scientologists do not believe in knitting because it is therapeutic
2. There is probably no intelligent life in the universe (other than a few of us.)
3. Brittany double pointed needles could, in theory, be used to make shish kabobs
4. Tom Cruise has probably always been insane and firing his manager was not a smart thing
5. You can take the CBEST stoned and still pass it
6. Goats make excellent wedding presents (see Heifer International for more info)

These are my words of "wisdom". Enjoy!

Hakova Sheli

For all of you Hebrew school dropouts and shiksas, the title is translated "My Hat." If you ask nicely I'll sing you the song. If you bring me something sparkly I'll even do the hand movements that go with the song.

Here is my first hat. I've made about a bazillion knit and crocheted hats but this is my first constructed hat. It is a lovely hat. I want to spend all of my time making hats and writing funny things to make you people laugh. I'm trying to do more of this, and less running around making sure that everyone else is happy - hence all of the therapy. Three times a fucking week! I need a lot of therapy.

For those of you who knew me when, I was certain that I didn't need therapy. Therapy is great for other people but not for me. HA! Ha ha ha ha! I put off therapy, which is every neurotic lesbian Angelina with a gay husband and crazy parents' right and so now I am making up for it.

Serves me right for being all saner-than-thou. Just in case you all haven't figured it out, I'm a fucked up mess. So there.

As this is my third post in my blog, I thought I would let y'all in on the point of this. I write a lot in my journal. Constantly. Michael (the gay husband) wonders, "What is it that she writes in this journal?" Mostly it's just crap about my day, how sucky my struggle with eating disorders is and what I want to do with the rest of my life. Sometimes though, I make myself laugh. I think, "this is being wasted just on me, but y'all don't need to know what I've thrown up today" so I've decided to edit the barfing stuff (aren't you thrilled!) and put in the stuff that makes me laugh. Hopefully it will make you laugh too.

If it does, send me a comment or an e-mail. I might just make you a hat!

Day two - so far no action

OK, I haven't told anyone about this yet so obviously there's no action!!! Hopefully y'all will back read my ramblings and get an idea how this future world famous blog was started.

Speaking of y'all. Went out with Sara 1 from Stitch n' Bitch and Crazy Aunt Purl yesterday, hence the y'all. CAP says "y'all" a lot. I think the word works regardless of the fact that I was born and raised in Los Angeles and so I don't care that I'm not supposed to use it. I'm going to use it. L.A., after all is in the South - Of California!

I learned a new phrase - "breakfast dessert". Did not know about another possible occasion for dessert. Great. Just what I needed.

Anyway, we went to Ellen's yard sale where I found a mighty fine collapsible sawhorse. I have no freaking idea what I'm going to do with it but I love it. Really. Then I took my hostages to Michael Levine Loft where we almost were trapped in a refrigerator box of polyester and sport mesh. It was orgasmic. We spent two hours there and we came out with a combined total of 36 pounds of fabric. I cannot tell you how loud we were. I think we made the rest of the patrons seriously uncomfortable. Here is a picture of my personal haul.

Then I found this totally fabulous piece of psychedelic fleece large enough for a blanket and this little girl, maybe 13 or so gasped. I could not help myself. I gave it to her. She will be me in a lot of years. Hopefully without all the therapy.

After the Loftapalooza, we started to aimlessly drive back to the city when Sara mentioned the words IKEA and sale in the same sentence, at which point my car (trusty little Honda Civic that she is) turned north toward Burbank.

We fizzled out somewhere in lighting where I couldn't decide between a Morker and a Tertial. I ended up with the Tertial with the Magnesit base. All eighty two pounds of it. Seriously it weighed down my car (again trusty, Honda, little, etc.).

I freed my hostages around 5 p.m. and went off to the Andersons home for the loveliest BBQ steak and homemade ice cream in the world. Also, the donut (I'll put a picture of him up very soon) threw up half a cantaloupe and Wes and I made a blanket fort where we took his trusty (again with the trusty?) hippo flashlight and Where the Sidewalk Ends. Only my favorite book. We read "What's in the Sack?" "Ickle me Pickle me Tickle me too" "Pirate Captain Jim" "Melinda Mae" "The long haired boy" and "For Sale". If I remember correctly, this was my favorite one growing up because really it's about a sister for sale and at the time, I was ready to take a dollar. Now I love my sister but then, I'd have maybe taken fifty cents...Sorry Shannon! Kristin finished up with a favorite "Hug a War". It was a really good night.

My first post to my new blog...

Well, we'll see how this goes...

I'm starting this blog mostly because of the inspirational Crazy Aunt Purl who is just too too fab for words. Her blog is just so damned funny, I thought I'd see if I could manage something on my own. I figured I'd fess up on the first page because eventually she's going to see this and say "OK, so I have a very successful blog and then you jump on the proverbial bandwagon. Great!) Maybe she won't say proverbial, but whatever.

As you may know, or may not if you haven't read my intro, I'm queer, I'm married (yes legally) to a gay man. His name is Michael. He's from Long Island, so not a foreign country, but damned close to it. We live in a big queer apartment that is anal retentively clean (or is that anally retentively???).

Speaking of which, if you don't appreciate the word anal, I'd move on, I think there's going to be a lot of that here... I imagine there's also going to be some discussion of the very fascinating worlds of therapy, limousines and knitting/crocheting.

So let me be clear - we're going to be talking about butt sex, yarn, cars and my shrinks. Woo hoo! Jump on people!