Down There

I realized a couple of things last night:  1 -  I am sometimes a judgmental a-hole and, 2 - I might not be as compassionate as I think I am.

 

1.  I don’t understand all the hoopla surrounding 50 Shades of Grey.  The trilogy has held the top four spots (the fourth being the boxed set) on Amazon’s Top 100 list for 132 days.  One-hundred and thirty-two days.  Let that sink in a little.  It has been on the New York Times' Best Sellers list for 20 weeks!  Egads.

As a voracious reader and lover off all things book-ish, I like to stay informed on what’s “new and notable”, the “hottest new reads”, what’s getting readers like myself excited.  As such, I have been inundated with 50 Shades fervor.  From what I understand, it’s Twilight fan fiction, only less sparkly and with a whole bunch of sex -- violent sex, slightly rapey sex, BDSM.  Sure, fine, ok.  If that’s what you’re into.  Let me be clear, I am not against erotica (and let's not kid ourselves, that's exactly what this book is); I am against poorly written erotica. 

Fair or not, I immediately judge people I see reading 50 Shades (says the admitted book snob).  Kristy and I decided that if we are to (continue) to be judgmental a-holes, we have to at least read it ourselves so we are informed judgmental a-holes.  Reluctantly and with utter dread, I loaded it onto my Kindle last night and headed off to the gym.

I was annoyed by the first sentence,  “I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror.”

And again a few sentences later,  “I roll my eyes in exasperation...”

Best of all, "My subconscious is metaphorically screaming at me me..."

Like this?

What the ... what?!  THESE ARE TERRIBLE SENTENCES.  How did this get past an editor?  Was it the editor of the high school newspaper?  That's the only way this makes any sense.

And then, brace yourselves folks, she gets into the sexy times:  “I gasp involuntarily as I feel it, all the way down to somewhere dark and unexplored, deep in my belly.”

IT’S CALLED YOUR VAGINA AND, IT’S NOT IN YOUR BELLY.

“Dreaming of smoky gray eyes, coveralls, long legs, long fingers, and dark unexplored places...”

Lady, it's your VAGINA.  Or call it something a little less clinical, if you prefer.  Hoo-ha?  Va-jay-jay?  Bearded clam?  Sweaty love box?  Snatch?  The world is your oyster, but please, for the love of all that’s holy, stop referring to it as if it's some mysterious creature in your stomach.

“He gives me a wicked grin, the effects of which travel all the way down there.”  (Emphasis hers.)

THAT’S YOUR VA--- oh, never mind.  

I made it about three chapters in and I don’t know if it’s wise for me to continue lest I get all stabby or start referring to my va-jay as down there in every day conversation (because what modern gal doesn't talk about her meat locker in every day conversation?).  

Look, I’m no paragon of ‘good writing’ over here.  I write because I enjoy it.  I try to be funny, it takes time to write these posts, but I am under know illusions about my abilities; I know where my talents lie and clearly, it's with MS Paint.  

The mysterious vagina monster, terrifying women everywhere.

But there are better books!  Beautiful books.  Books that will take your breath away.  Books with or without sexy times.  Books that don’t have a vapid, sniveling idiot as a protagonist; a woman who can’t even refer to her own vagina as a vagina.  If you just want the sexy bits, you don’t have to rely on drivel.  You could, I don’t know, communicate with your spouse/significant other and tell him/her what knocks your socks off.  Or just. Watch. Porn. 

As Kristy says, “the one positive take-away from this is America, normally very OH EM GEE SEX GET IT AWAY IT WILL CAUSE OUR DOWNFALL, has made a book ABOUT sex a bestseller. Maybe if people can admit that they're reading erotica, we're getting closer to a place where we won't be ashamed of our sex lives.  And maybe if that happens, they'll stop teaching abstinence only in schools and telling young girls that they'll be ruined if they lose their virginity too young.  Or at all.”

Word.

All of this being said, maybe, hopefully, many of the folks reading 50 Shades are doing so with tongue firmly in cheek, recognizing its utter ridiculousness and enjoying it anyway for the silly, mindless trash that it is.  And even if they're not -- even if they're reading it and enjoying every thought-provoking word because it's the only way they're comfortable exploring the mysteries of down there, that's ok too.  Don't we all need a little escapism now and again? 

… now, where is my copy of Twilight?

(This post is too long now, so "Compassion" will come later.  Unless you're me, who has none.  Apparently.)

The Other Half

Thankfully there are two parts to July's challenge and I'm kicking butt on the second half.  Exercise every day.  That's it.  Simple, to the point, none of this "try to stop doing something you do multiple times a day every single day" business.  Just get your butt off the couch and move. 

(I like to move it, move it... I like to MOVE IT.)

So I've been doing that.  I don't necessarily have to do a full-blown workout every day, but I have to do something for at least 20 minutes.  That is the arbitrary rule I made up.  My angry hips and knees are the impetus for this challenge.  I've been going to physical therapy twice a week for the past two months for said angry hips and knees.  My knees feel stellar now, but my hips are still a bit sullen. 

"How are you feeling today?"
"Oh, I don't know.  I'm a little melancholy."

In order to keep them in their current state (and possibly a happier, more well-adjusted one), I have to continue with the exercises and stretches I suffered through during therapy.  I thought doing this challenge would be a good way to establish a habit, a routine, whatever.

I like it when things feel good so...  well, that's it, really.  Doing things to feel good.

I also like thistles, so here's one.

Tattoo meets real life.  Ish.

In other news, I have kept the swearing to a minimum the past two days -- only one "ffffuuuuuu..." (but with consonants) per day.  Progress!

In other-other news, I saw these faces this past weekend and now I miss these faces and wish I could smooch them.

They were less blurry a couple days ago.

Words Are Hard

Day 9

Why am I doing this challenge?  Who thought this would be a good idea?  To all of you naysayers out there, I'm sorry I got annoyed when you laughed in my face at the mere mention of living a life without swearing (that being said, bite me -- you could have at least pretended to be supportive).  I've yet to go a day without dropping an f-bomb (or six) and I started this morning off by calling someone a "s--thead" (not to his face or anything and in my defense, he really is a s--thead.  It's basically like calling him "Tom", so maybe it shouldn't count??).

I've completely lost count at this point.  I think I owe my siblings somewhere in the neighborhood of $1,000 each and I should probably post at least 27 embarrassing videos on this here blog.  It's probably not going to happen because, well, I don't really want to.  Or, it'll have to wait until Drunk Heather makes an appearance.  Yes, yes, it's a bit of a cop-out, but ...  IT'S MY BLOG AND I'LL GET DRUNK AND MAKE VIDEOS IF I WANT TO!  OR NOT AT ALL!  EITHER WAY!  I'm already on day four with no Reddit.  Isn't that punishment enough?  It feels like punishment.

Posting notes around my house and on my person certainly hasn't helped:

When you eat food, no swearing.

When you leave the house, no swearing.

 I'm talking to you, kid.  Seriously, no swearing.

Really?  Even this won't help?
(Side note:  I sent someone this picture and they replied back with:
"You're a unique grape, Heather Lee."  What a fantastic compliment.)
(Shuddup.  It's a compliment if I want it to be.)

A real life unique grape from mom's house.
And an unintentional spider friend.

I was doing fairly well last week -- swearing only four times a day...  What's that?  You think four times a day is a lot?  Need I remind you that I use the work "f--k" like the word "the" in daily run-of-the-mill conversation, so paring it down to only four times a day is a remarkable achievement.  Again, bite me if you disagree.

Then Friday rolled around.  I was troubleshooting a problem at work well into the Friday evening and I was getting, erm, frustrated.  My computer was being slow, I forgot what I had already tested and my efforts devolved into ... well, less thinking about what I was doing and more swearing heatedly and angrily at my computer.

"What the f--k?!  I just did that and it worked.  Stop being an a-hole, computer."

"Just f-----g open already!"

"Ugh.  F--k you."

Yep.  And that's why I started this challenge in the first place.  For nights like that.  I don't even know what to try at this point.  I only swore twice on Saturday-- first day with no f-bombs. (...yay?)  I made it through the entire day with nary a bad word and then I spilled a bottle of red wine on my newly cleaned kitchen floor.  Sigh.

I've added a rubber-band-around-the-wrist approach, snapping it every time I swear.  Maybe inflicting actual pain will help?  I suggested to Kristy I change the challenge to "I will swear only five times a day", but she shot that down rather quickly, something about "cheating".  I dunno.  I'm at a bit of a loss.  Here's a bug in a flower.

Hi.  I'm a bug in a flower.

GAAHHHHHHHH!

Day 2

I made it until 7:40. 

Really PowerPoint?  Really?  Why couldn't you just let me change the font color?  I don't ask for much.  I asked you for one little thing and when you wouldn't comply?  F-bomb.

(...one hour later...)

While watching "True Blood", the following was uttered by yours truly:

"What?  Are they going to f---ing fairyland or something."

Followed soon after by, "Run, motherf---er!  Don't just stand there."

Sigh. This is going to be the longest. Month. Ever.

If you're keeping track, that's $50 so far.  Maybe I can't afford this form of punishment.  My sister suggests I should put a limit on it, lest I have to spend next month eating peanut butter and jelly.  And maybe some crackers.

Here's another Drunk Heather video.

I was going to post this immediately, but it seems prudent to wait until bedtime, when I know I'm done talking for the day.  Or maybe I should just stop talking altogether.  Until August.

(My sister questions the accuracy of this self-portrait.)

Mulligan

Yesterday's reintroduction to meat was a rousing success, if I do say so myself.  Jeff the Troll (remember him?) wasn't quite sure what to make of it all...

At first he was all, "Yay!  Meat party!"

"Why yes, that is a half-smoke and a bucket of bacon I'm carrying around.
Why do you ask?"

But then he was all, "I'm melting into a puddle of fat and grease. What are you doing up there?"

I would have colored him in, but that seemed hard.

Thankfully, he's got himself sorted out and today we're getting along like gangbusters.

In addition to the meat-o-rama, yesterday was also the start of a new challenge:  no swearing AND do something active/physical every day.  Let's start with the swearing.  The rules are pretty simple:  don't curse.  Yup.  Pretty much sums it up.  I get one mulligan and once that's gone, I have a charming list of punishments to choose from:

Minor infractions:
- I cannot sleep with socks
- No PHONE for a day!
- No REDDIT for a day! (eeeeek!)
- $5

Major infractions:
- I take over all chores for a week
- I wash my mouth out with soap, video the reaction and post it on the blog
- Cat Daddy!  Or an equally embarrassing activity that I record and post
- $10

There's no incentive in paying myself when this month is all said and done; instead, I'll slide those cool dolla-dolla bills over to my siblings.  (You're welcome siblings.)  My cousin, Amy, also suggested I do a cartwheel every time I swear, regardless of where I am.  I kind of love that idea EXCEPT, I can't do a cartwheel to save my life.  Seriously.  A somersault is the best I could do.  I am not nearly graceful enough for twirls.

So that's the plan.  You might be wondering how day one went....  let me tell you, my tens of readers, it did not go well.  My mulligan?  Used up within the first eight hours.  And do you want to know why I swore?  (Dropping an f-bomb no less.)  There wasn't a box of tissues where I expected a box of tissues to be.  Obviously a rage-inducing experience.  Goodbye, mulligan.

Yeah, I don't know.  I was going for a golf ball or something.
I don't know what the Fuji apple a mulligan looks like.

Later there was more swearing over equally unnecessary things (cheese, Internet outage) and as I am not quite ready for the Cat Daddy, especially after having practiced a bit in the mirror (all I can say is, "Fuuuuuuuuuu....dgesicle, I am white!"), below is a video of me very, very drunk in Afreeeca a couple of years ago.

Backstory:  I didn't train quite as well as I could have before we climbed Kilimanjaro and as such, I was a bit on the wheezy side.  (But I totally made it to the top so whatevs!)  The last day of the hike we were sitting around chatting with our guide and he asked if I had trained beforehand and mentioned my "breathiness."  Here's me telling that story after a flagon of wine:

Next up, the physical part of the challenge.

Ray's Hell Burger (MEAT-O-LICIOUS)

These will likely be the only words you'll read in this post because I believe the pictures will speak for themselves.

.... and scene.

Siblings, You'd Best Skip This One

Hello, boys and girls!  You know what today is, right?  It's meat day.  Meat Party.  A meat party in my mouth, to be exact.  It's meat-o-riffic.  Meat-o-licious.  Meatasbord.  Meatanza.  Supermeatifragilisticexpialimeatocious.  (I'd like you hear you say that one out loud.)

First stop, Harris Teeter.  No chance I'm going to eat that low-fat, non-greasy, boring-as-heck turkey sausage I have in my freezer.  After 30 days of no meat?  I don't think so.  Bring on the grease and fat.

That's what I'm talking about.

Just grab a handful and squeeze it out.

You are beautiful.

Your sizzle is a beautiful sonata; it's magic for my ears.

...ssssssssssss...

Oh, yeah, you get nice and black, sausage patty.  You get all hot and crusty.  I'll even give you a dash of maple syrup to help things along.  That's how much I care for you.

Who's got the nicest crust?
YOU'VE got the nicest crust.

Little patty is lonely and needs some egg friends.

Egg friends are the best of friends.

And now it's time for all of this to go in my mouth.

You are delicious and beautiful and I love you.

(Being a bit on the brown side, you may think those eggs look unappetizing, but you'd be wrong.  Wrong, wrong, wrong.  They're brown because they were cooked in SAUSAGE FAT AND GREASE.  Ain't nothing unappetizing about that.)

A perfect bite.

(You're a perfect bite.)

So that was my morning.  How was yours?