Monthly Archives: June 2013

…That’s a Thing?


I was just going through my Twitter list like a normal human being and then all of a sudden, there’s Marianne talking about shapeshifter porn. The particular one was about cuttlefish.  Now, maybe I’m just biased, but CUTTLEFISH ARE NOT SEXY!  Want me to prove it to you?  FINE.

THIS is a cuttlefish! It IS NOT SEXY.

THIS is a cuttlefish! It IS NOT SEXY.

Now do you understand?  Because this is one of the least bizarre pictures I could find.  Let me tell you the things you need to know in order to realize that sex with a cuttlefish can only end in tears:  1. Tentacles. 2. Aquatic creature. 3. SUCKERS. 4. Ink-squirting.

Tell me how any of that winds up with anything more than regret and a bottle of cheap vodka? (Though to be fair, it probably started that way.)

But I had lots of questions because apparently the shapeshifter porn is a whole genre, which means that there are people writing about all kinds of creatures.

Do both parties shapeshift? Or do you suddenly have to learn to grapple with a cloaca?  And should anyone ever really be expected to grapple with a cloaca?  I thought sex was probably complicated enough with matching species.  I don’t really think there should be a pop quiz in anatomy involved.  Maybe I’m old fashioned.  But really, what happens if you end up with something reptilian?  What do you do with bifurcated boy bits?  And what’s more? If I googled it, I’m pretty sure someone could tell me.


I felt really dumb when she pointed out that they shift into humans.

I kinda feel cheated.


Fake Pageant Daughters Are Hard



First, I forgot to mention in the last post that Audreya submitted the name for precious P.I.G., so she wins godmotherhood of the fake toddler (blogmotherhood?).  Anyway, whatever it is, she wins it. And the poll closed on her birthday, so double yay!

I looked at glitz photos — which are apparently a SUPER must have, not just a regular must have like every single other thing.  And instead of getting them airbrushed, I’m really thinking I’m just gonna have my toddler spackled and repainted.  That way she’s probably even weatherproofed.  Seems responsible because I tallied up how much of the fake budget I’m spending on something called a cupcake dress and holy wow, folks.  Fake pageant toddlers are investments.  I don’t want mine to …rust… or whatever toddlers do. Do they go off?  Maybe I should read up on that….

Speaking of that dress, though, I went to pintrest and created a board because I’m a responsible fake pageant toddler mom and that’s what you DO.  But there just are not enough rhinestones.  Seriously, not a single one of those poof-butt dresses will sear your retinas under traditional stage lighting and that just will not do. So I’m going to Hobby Lobby (because obviously that’s where Jesus would shop) and buying up all the rhinestones.

Is it illegal to affix the bling directly to the kid?  I mean, I’m not gonna use hot glue.  That’s just stupid and won’t last anyway.

I was thinking epoxy….



You wacky bunch of people have named my imaginary pageant toddler.

I present to you Paisleigh Isabella Grace, 3 years old.  She’s blonde & blue eyed & came pre-spray-tanned to keep me from having to worry with that.  (I had an auto dealership use a shade called “suburban pageant toddler” — it’s got a 10 year guarantee and by that time, she’ll be aging out of the pageant circuit anyway.)

Her interests are sparkles and world peace.  She wants to be a supermodel or Miss America when she grows up, plans to save all the whales (which she will then recycle for dolphins) and do something for poor people somewhere.  Her special talent is boxing with other pageant toddlers.

Stay tuned.  Her first pageant is soon and it’s the Battlestar Tiara Doll Classic — full glitz AND LASERS!

Somtimes Ya Gotta Dance


Okay, so I got to watch a superhero movie last night and it wasn’t the Avengers.  It was Davis, Van de Putte & Watson taking on an immoral special session of the TX Lege and against all odds — and document falsification — they won.  Texas made us proud.

I’m pro-choice.  You know what that doesn’t mean? It doesn’t mean I’m pro-abortion.  It means I’m pro-every-life-involved and after watching the deaths that happen when there’s no access to adequate reproductive health — including abortion when necessary — after seeing what that kind of legislation can cause, I can’t conscientiously be anything else.  That’s me.  And you know what?  That doesn’t make me a bad person or a bad Christian or anything else.  It makes me a thinking human who has reached a conclusion.  Is it different to yours?  Well, that’s something that happens when people are allowed to think for themselves.  Yay freedom.

Bits of DOMA were struck down.  Again, I have people I love who benefit from this decision and, because of my studies and all manner of factors, I’m happy for them.  But you know what?  Even if I didn’t agree with the idea of gay marriage from a Christian viewpoint, I couldn’t say that I could deny gay people the right to have domestic contracts with one another.  Because in the eyes of the government, your marriage — all marriages — are a contract especially useful when it comes to matters of will, proxy and inheiritance.  And as far as the government cares, that’s all it is.  So gay people can have contracts now and that’s awesome. And if you’re a conservative Christian minister who doesn’t want to perform gay weddings, don’t worry:  1) they don’t want you to — I mean, did YOU ask someone who hates you to perform YOUR wedding ceremony?  No?  Why would they?  2) Seriously, women aren’t even equal in many conservative churches yet.  Has the government stepped in and made you let me and other women preach?  No?  Well, then what are you worried about.  If you keep acting like a PAC, though, I’m gonna campaign for you to lose your tax-exempt status. If you want to be a political machine, at least be honest about it.

Voter rights.  Well, we screwed the pooch there.  Let’s fight that.  Because I think it’s pretty obvious that racism isn’t a thing of the past any more than sexism and classism are.  So let’s not pretend states are going to be all responsible and not suppress voters in districts that might put them out of office, okay? Let’s hold congress and the SCOTUS responsible for fixing this.  You don’t gut something after almost 50 years and just hope it sunk enough that you don’t need the law anymore.  Seriously, nobody’s repealed the laws against murder and those have been on the books FOREVER.

And Texas did us proud.  But you know who’s still fighting?  Ohio.  North Carolina.  Wisconsin.  And basically every other state where a woman doesn’t have the final word regarding her body.  Bodily autonomy is not a legislative matter.  It’s a fundamental right.  You either own yourself or someone owns you and we’re being told that we are owned.  So stand up and claim your body.

So it’s been a roller coaster, but I have a Butterfinger milkshake and pajama pants, so somewhere inside, I’m still hopeful that things will be okay.  Because any world that still has milkshakes and pajama pants has to have hope.

And I’m gonna dance around and celebrate.  But I’m still gonna fight.

And if you don’t feel like dancing, you don’t have to. But if you sit still, you’re gonna wind up covered in glitter. :OP

Warning: Contents Under Pressure


I’ll blog more about exploding goats and/or my imaginary pageant toddler(s) later. But today, rights are being snatched away from people in every arena and I’m just not in a hilarious mood. Women are having their autonomy restricted in a way men never have and never will, marginalized people are having rights hard fought for snatched away in one SCOTUS evisceration of the VRA, my country doesn’t believe in healthcare but can’t get enough guns and why should we educate the children women are being forced to bear because there are sportsball things we could be funding or houseboats we could be buying for politicians.

It’s just not a hopeful kind of day. If you have any good news you want to share, please, leave comments. Leave links. Post funny pictures. Tell me stupid jokes.

More than that: promise me you’ll vote and we’ll rebuild some of what we’ve lost in the last few weeks. And we’ll do more; we’ll make it better.

Dog-sitting, from the perspective of Sam, the misanthropic terrier


I dogsat/housesat for my best friend about a week ago.  The following is an account of those 4 days from the perspective of one of the 2 dogs.  One dog, Pete, is extraverted and believes he’s a roommate, not a dog.  The other is Sam, tactical biped extermination device.  This is from Sam’s perspective.

Day 1: Humans arrive with supplementary biped in tow. This is unacceptable. Growling failed to register my intent to murder excess biped.  Hope indigenous humans make it leave soon.

Six hours later:  OMG, the indigenous humans have left the superfluous biped behind. I don’t have thumbs. I can’t call 911 and no amount of barking seems to deter the biped’s continued occupation of the domicile.  If I can trick it into opening the door to my secret bunker, it will never see my next step coming.  At least it stares at the same thing on the wallbox as the indigenous humans do.

12 hours into occupation:  It isn’t going away.  Door to bunker is opened, but I can’t close it without cutting myself off to vital food and toilet resources.  WHAT IS IT DOING IN THERE?  That room is explicitly marked off for me to nap and now it has biped all over it.  Gross!  And the traitor, Pete, seems to know this biped.  This is unacceptable. I’ll deal with him later.

Day 2: Will this hell ever end?  The biped makes water appear and that’s useful and it seems to sneak Pete some illicit foodstuffs.  This is probably the key to its treachery. The food is obviously drugged.  It’s still no excuse for his betrayal of our brotherhood. But his punishment shall be merciful.

Day 3: The indigenous humans have obviously been evicted by the superfluous biped.

//insert nervous breakdown//

Day 3.5 Oh God.  This will not end. Life is bleak. There is no ho— what is that?  IT’S THE INDIGENOUS HUMANS! HOLY CRAP! THEY’RE BACK!  I shall bark incessantly to show them I never abandoned my post.  This biped is history!

Day 4: It isn’t gone.  I think they plan to keep it.  It’s still sleeping in my napping room.  Life as we know it is over.

This is where the record ends as I did, indeed, go home.  But Sam continued to look at Pete like a traitor for cuddling up next to me when I wasn’t feeling well.  That’s just Not Done in Sam’s world.

Name My Fake Pageant Toddler


Aha!  Found the poll tool.  Are you ready?  Are you REALLY ready?  Because this will determine this whole kid’s fake future! The person who submits the winning fake pageant toddler name becomes fake godparent and possibly wins a prize to be determined.  It could be awesome!  You never know….

Here are the names for first round elimination!