My four favourite blog posts from the past week:
1) Amy doesn’t need to douche from Unapologetically Female.
2) How to be, like, a real writer from Bachelor Girl.
3) An animal body to keep you warm at night from Belly Shirts.
4) Who brought this guy? from Awkward Family Photos.
The rest of you were either boring or have locked journals that can’t be linked to, but that doesn’t mean I love you any less.
You may remember that fateful day a year ago in which I went to my favourite bathroom stall at work to find
Well, today, I came out of my stall, and as I was washing my hands, a black woman from the office next door walked in, half-acknowledged the hello I gave her, and went straight for the very same stall. I thought to myself about how funny it is that I always see her using that stall and how we must appreciate the same sort of conditions while doing our bizness.
And then it hit me. The largest pubic hair in existence was probably . . . the hair from her head. And if she saw that sign, she was probably offended, maybe even deeply hurt. It likely called to mind all of the years of latent racism she’s endured, all of the rage she felt when Don Imus called those girls “nappy-headed hoes”. She probably went to the back of the bus that night out of shame.
I don’t have to feel bad about it as a privileged white person, but I sort of do.
My best friend, Tracey, sent me a link this morning to a Craftzine blog post showcasing a necklace made from a dead bird’s head. My immediate reaction was along the lines of, “Cool! I’d buy that and love it and wear it every day if it wasn’t $350.”
When I read all of the comments on the post, though, I noticed that 90% of them were along the lines of, “Gross! This is barbaric and despicable, and you should warn us before you post things like this.” And any comments that were positive received replies along the lines of, “Shut up.”
What’s the big deal? The bird died of natural causes and is being celebrated as art. It wasn’t harmed to make the jewelry, and I imagine that if animals could express their preferences for their remains, they’d choose to be displayed proudly on necks rather than be stuffed in shoeboxes and tossed in holes in the ground. Of course, I could be a little biased, because I think the giant stuffed moose head on my neighbor’s wall in Ohio is rad.
When I suggested that I might like to cut off my dead mother’s ring finger and have it taxidermied to display in my home, wedding ring and all, Tracey agreed that it wouldn’t be offensive. My friend Tim tells me that in Papua New Guinea, mourners wear necklaces of their loved ones’ digits to honor their memories. My friend Anthony thinks people have may desecration of the dead issues with that in the U.S., but Tracey came up with the solution of donor cards that allow you to choose whether or not to permit your family to use your parts postmortem. Wouldn’t you love to see stuffed hands and feet on mantles like any other tchotchke right next to your Christmas stocking?
My friend Nik imagines that most of the people who threw hissy fits at the dead bird head are the same ones wearing leather shoes as they type, and I agree. It’s another example of the way people generally have no problem squashing a cockroach but freak out when anyone harms a cuddly bunny. Of course, I totally understand why someone would protest the squirrel feet earrings, but that’s only because they’re ugly.
And Tracey, you’re getting a cat hair handbag for your birthday. The $400 kind, because I care.
It may have been that I was overwhelmed by the joy I was feeling just from being in Ohio, but the following two things made me cry for no good reason last week:
1) The scene in “Glee” when the kids from the deaf school perform John Lennon’s “Imagine”. I generally find the show cheesy and overproduced, but I was unexpectedly emotional about the unconventional solo and the sappy joining together of the two rival choirs.
2) At a screening of Fantastic Mr. Fox, my best friend and I saw the trailer for the upcoming movie Babies. I don’t even LIKE babies, but everything about this is wonderful. Especially the part that says, “THE BABIES ARE COMING.”
Every Thanksgiving, my stepmother-who-I’ve-known-my-whole-life-and-think-is-the-best-possible-stand-in-for-my-actual-mother-who-died-of-brain-cancer-in-2000 puts pieces of dried corn next to each person’s plate at the dinner table and tells us we have to give thanks for one thing for every piece of corn we have. Her kids, who are adults and not 14-year-olds as you might expect, seem to think this is a real challenge, even though there’s usually only two pieces of corn at their plates. Every year, I want to scream, “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, JUST SAY YOU’RE THANKFUL FOR JESUS AND REGULAR BOWEL MOVEMENTS!!” But their grandfather is always there, and you know how hard it is to get geriatrics off the topic of bowels once it comes up.
Anyway, to prove how totally easy it is for me to come up with things I’m thankful for, here’s a short list:
1) My dad, who I look forward to seeing at every holiday gathering both because he always eats more pie than I do to keep me from looking like a fatty and because he’s totally fine with discussing right in front of everyone what a disappointment I am for not bombing abortion clinics every chance I get.
2) My best friend, Tracey, who pretends with an uncanny level of believability that she misses me when I’m not in Ohio with her and who doesn’t mind if I steal all of her Vanilla Coke Zero when I’m in Ohio with her. And also who doesn’t have sex with her husband for entire weeks at a time when I visit because I’m latched on to her at all hours of the day.
3) Kamran.
4) My best New York friend, Beth, who wears Prada shoes but totally doesn’t mind my Chucks, who drinks artisan cocktails but will totally buy me a Woodchuck or a Magners, and who only listens to Madonna but will totally go see Sufjan with me. If I buy her ticket.
5) Bachelor Girl, who posts things like this without any consideration for the fact that I’m building a stalker case against her publicly in case anything bad happens to me. You are my BBFF, baby.
6) The fact that at some point in our nation’s history, it was totally okay to exploit freaks of nature. (from Anthony)
7) The part of Band of Horses’s “Ode to the LRC” where he says, “The world is such a wonderful place.” Because it really feels that way at that moment.
8.) Mind-blowing hyperrealistic sculptures. (from Kamran)
9) Everyone who reads this thing, including the people who find it by using Google search terms such as “never thought i’d be a homewrecker” and “i scraped off a mole with my fingernail”.
10) Regular bowel movements.
Happy Thanksgiving, y’all. I’m off to Ohio!
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