Merry (But Not So) Bright Holiday Decorations

On a recent stroll with my dog Georgia, I took in the sights of my neighborhood.  Houses were draped in myriad levels of festivity for the holidays, some more extreme than others.  As I was admiring the majority of them, a few decorations struck me as odd or unnecessary.  I’m sure there are reasons for these choices. Either the homeowners liked them or thought they looked classy, but to me they just appeared, well, wrong.

For instance…

The Projected Light Display  

I can almost understand the practicality of using these things.  They are more economical, both in the time it would take to actually string as many lights on your house, as well as keeping the electric bill low since you’re lighting one bulb as opposed to hundreds.  But doesn’t it sort of seem like cheating?  I mean, who doesn’t have a fond memory of their father or family member nearly killing themselves either by shock or falling off a ladder trying to hang the strings of lights along the edge of your roof?  Isn’t that part of what the holidays are all about?

Super-Inflated Lawn Characters

Sure, Snoopy is cute.  He’s even cuter with his goggles and Santa hat on as he smiles behind the wheel of his airplane with the real rotating propeller.  But making him fourteen feet tall?  Does that necessarily increase the cuteness?  What about a giant Santa leaning out of a big train?  Again, it strikes me as kind of lazy, like your commitment to the holiday season is directly proportional to how much of your lawn you cover up with nonsensical inflatables. So put a big-ass Mickey Mouse on a fire truck and get it done in one shot.

Dripping Icicles Lights (when you live in the South)  

Now, these are really beautiful.  I used to see them all the time up north.  I remember they used to be very simple; just two-dimensional icicle-shaped lights that would hang from the roofs and eaves of nearly every house in the neighborhood.  Then they got more elaborate and three-dimensional. They began animating the action of dripping water with lights that blinked around cone-shaped “icicles”.  Gorgeous.  They really resembled the peaceful sparkle of slowly melting ice.  However, the effect is lost when your string them up in palm trees and Spanish moss.  We don’t get snow, let alone such impressive elegant icicles, down here in Florida so instead of giving your trees a classy effect it just looks like your lush tropical vegetation grew sharp bloodthirsty teeth.

How about you?  Any holiday decoration fads you think are odd?

Take Back Our P******!

In reaction to the devastating results of this equally devastating election, I was torn between posting a somber and reflective response or something light and comical.

So I’ll do a little bit of both.

We Must Take Back Our Pussies!

And by that I mean the negative connotation that the word “pussy” has acquired.  I was talking to my friend Sylvan about it.

"It supposedly comes from the word pusillanimous which means 'cowardly'," she said.  I did more research on the word pusillanimous and saw it also means weak-willed or lacking determination.  However, the Online Etymology Dictionary website explains that “pussy” originated from the word “puss” meaning cat.  From there it was associated with all things furry, soft, and gentle. (i.e. pussy willow, pussy-footing, etc.)

So when exactly did we get from "cat" to "cowardly"?  Why does being called a “pussy” mean you are weak and timid, while being “ballsy” is behaving tough and strong? 

Think about it.

Balls get pushed around and pushed aside.  They get sat on.  They get sweaty and sticky.  They really only have the one job to do and the rest of the time they just hang there, unless it’s cold, in which case they tighten and curl up timidly.

Pussies, on the other hand, (and not in a hand that is violating it, mind you) are extremely resilient.  Every month or so, they undergo a daily injections of tightly bound dry cotton, delivered via a hard plastic or cardboard tube.  Or else, they are subjected to sitting on a small sweaty cotton yoga mat-like pad for several hours.  And yet it is so efficient that with minimal assistance it is able to sanitize itself.  Talk about a self-cleaning oven for your bun!

Not only that, but sexually the pussy is the much tougher genital.  It gets more force and manipulation than the balls do.  The balls, once again, just sit on the sidelines like the sad nonsexual character in a porn movie.  Also, it's interesting to note that being called a “dick” means you’re a vile, mean person.  I can understand the connection when someone is behaving cruelly or forcefully.  However, I still think the word “pussy” used in a derogatory context is still more insulting because it is unfair and simply untrue.

Lastly, but certainly not least, is the fact that a pussy is capable of bringing forth life.  It is the cauldron by which the magic of creation exists in and is the passage by which life emerges (Editor’s note: I am fully aware that it’s really the uterus that carries the child and that C-sections exist, but I am trying to make a point here).

So let us take back the word “pussy” from the mouths of people whom know not how to use it (how often have we had to put up with that, ladies?  Am I right?).  Let us instead rejoice in the word and give it the meaning it so rightly deserves; a meaning of strength and resilience.  Let us all hope to be pussies from now on.

And let us hope our new President-elect, Donald J. Trump, is the biggest pussy of them all.

My Name is ChocolateFace

You know, some people pride themselves on making a good first impression.  Or a good second impression.  Me?  I seem to just make “an impression”, and usually not the best kind.

Take this past weekend at a Halloween party I attended. 

We were asked to wear a costume and bring along a little something to pass.  The food option was a no-stresser, as I planned to make these crock-pot meatballs that have been a hit in the past.  As for a costume, well, being almost 8 months pregnant, anything super hot and sexy was pretty much out.  And time and money being tight, I wouldn’t have a chance to put together some cute and clever maternity costume.  Lo and behold, I still had this pumpkin T-shirt I wore for my baby shower a few weeks ago.  By pairing that with some black leggings, I could just barely get away with it being a “costume”.

On the day of the party, I arrived at the same time as my friend (and fellow preggo) Rachel.  As she emerged from her car, I was amazed.  She had transformed herself and her adorable baby bump into a gumball machine, complete with red felt hat and 25 cent tag-choker.  She looked awesome.  I looked down at my cheap orange T-shirt and suddenly felt like a lazy fraud.  Oh well, I thought, nothing I can do about it now.

We walked in together and were greeted by our friend, Marianna’s, mother.  She guided us inside and we began saying our hellos to Marianna’s various family and friends.  As we made our way to the tables with the food, I suddenly had a small panic attack.  What if the ceramic container with the meatballs was too hot? I thought.  What if it scalds the table?  My mind raced in terror as I hesitated putting the bowl down, my hand grasping the container in a frozen state.  Finally, not wanting to appear like a total weirdo, I decided to just put it down, damning the consequences.

Next, it was onto mingling.  Our other friend, Alejandra, and her husband were there as well and soon all of us were chatting happily with Marianna’s other friends.  We found topic after topic to discuss, from air travel to movies to fashion.  We never fell on an uncomfortable silence or awkwardness, and we all began to loosen up and just enjoy ourselves, even me.  I am so used to needing a beer or glass of wine to make myself more at ease in social situations like these.  But tonight, thanks to the good company I was in, I felt jovial, clever and attentive.  I was actually feeling pretty good about myself.

I decided to reward myself with a sweet treat from the food table.  I immediately spotted these popcorn and M&M balls, drizzled in chocolate syrup.  Yumm, I thought as I reached for one.  I took a bite, and realized that the chocolate might be getting all over my face.  I grabbed a napkin and began furiously wiping my face down before anyone noticed the sloppy pregnant girl with a face full of chocolate.

I walked back over to the area where my friends, both old and new, were all still congregated when the doorbell rang.  In walked a few more of Marianna’s friends.  They came over and introduced themselves to those of us whom they didn’t know.  Since I was standing right there, and feeling quite confident, I stuck my hand out to shake their hands, introducing myself as well.  They offered a kind smile and I, in turn, offered a wide one back.   They eventually moved on towards the food area, and I suddenly realized an instant urge to use the restroom. 

I slipped away from the crowd and found the bathroom.  Good for you, I said to myself.  A few hours into a party and you’ve yet to make an ass of yourself.  Yep, I was feeling pretty pleased with myself alright.

As soon as I walked into the bathroom, I saw it.  Somehow, despite wiping my face, I had somehow missed a wide smear of chocolate running down my cheek.  I’m sure in normal circumstances it wouldn’t have appeared so big to me.  But as my mind quickly realized that I had just been grinning like an absent-minded idiot to perfect strangers with a big chocolate stripe on my face, my confidence level crashed to my feet.  I wiped the damn spot off my face and when I was finished, I walked back out. 

Ah well, you can’t win ‘em all, champ, I thought to myself as I rejoined the group.  Luckily, I was able to find my groove again and I nearly completely forgot about my chocolate-face. 

Well, nearly.

As I said, some people make great first impressions, and others need another chance.  Or sometimes you just have to go with your gut, whether it’s telling you to relax and enjoy or eat that popcorn/M&M ball.  You might end up with egg, or in my case chocolate, on your face.  But at least you can have a good time in the end.

Top Five Most Unwatchable Horror Movies

It’s that time again!  Time for the leaves to turn bright orange and red, the air to carry a lovely crispness, and the woodland creatures to fatten themselves up for the dark cold months ahead.

Except that this is Florida, where you’re lucky to see a leaf be any other color but lush green, the crispness in the air lasts about as long as a French fry in styrofoam, and the woodland creatures maintain their diet of whatever-the-hell-they-want.

So, the atmosphere may be lacking, but the calendar does not lie- it’s October, which means Scary Movie Month for me and Joe.

Over the years we have seen most everything, from classic (“Psycho”) to camp (“Sleepaway Camp”, that is).  While the vast majority has been mediocre and forgettable, there are a select few that I would single out as being all-around great movies.  “Jaws” comes to mind, which we watched about four years ago.  The complexity of the characters entangled together in a situation that tested their boundaries, combined with phenomenal acting and story-telling, made this a movie I find myself stopping to watch every time it happens to be on TV.

Yet, for every “Jaws”, there are at least a few mind-meltingly bad horror movies.  These are the ones that stick in my brain, not because they were particularly scary or good, but because they were so weird, unpleasant, or downright cheesy that I find myself having a hard time shaking them.

In no particular order, these are my Top Worst Unwatchable Scary Movies:

Antichrist (2009)

Thought seeing Willem Dafoe having sex in the shower would be hot?  Yeah, me either.  And if that doesn’t do it for you, the genital mutilation will certainly give you that queasy horrified look on your face.  (Definitely not recommended for first dates.) There were some really gorgeous shots, but the pace was so slow it made the rest of the movie unbearable.

The Skin I Live In (2011)

Things that make you go….huh?  While I can appreciate this Spanish film for its gorgeous cinematography and Antonio Banderas’ acting skills, this was still a movie that was just a little too weird to “get”.  I don’t want to give away too much just in case you find yourself on a Netflix safari looking for a new movie to watch.  Let’s just say, guy gets girl, guy loses girl, guy gets girl…and guy?

Re-Animator (1985)

Based off a novella by H. P. Lovecraft, this movie had plenty of hokey campy gory moments that gave it an almost humorous charm.  I could’ve easily seen this as a selection for an episode of "Mystery Science Theater 3000".  That is, until the scene where the love interest is kidnapped and tied to a table by a headless doctor.  Although there is a head (and then some).  Yeah.  Once again, suffice it to say this is also not a great choice for a first date.  Unless you and your date are into this kind of thing.

The Monster Squad (1987)

You know, it’s possible that I just missed the boat on this one.  It came out when I was a kid, but never seeing it back then means I never established a sense of nostalgia, and therefore forgiveness for it.  Seeing it now, with fresh adult eyes, the immense cheesiness just bored and aggravated me, and left me missing the childhood movies of MY past.  Goonies, this is not.

The Lawnmower Man (1992)

So, I’m not going to lie- I never actually finished watching this one.  I became so lost and distracted that my attention just sort of fell away.  I’m not sure if it was the tedious plot or the over-acting, the technological hyper-babble, or maybe it was the Dire Straits, “Money for Nothing”-like animation made horrific that just pushed me off the couch.  I’m sure to some this is a classic.  But for me it just stands as a classic punch line for a bad movie.

So how about you?  Seen any epically bad horror movies lately?  Let’s share the pain together.   (Wow, that almost sounds like something a villain in one of these bad movies might say)