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The show closes tonight.

It's always sad to say goodbye to a show. Especially one as fun to do as this one has been. In the current political climate, doing a show about a woman claiming her space and understanding that she can be so much more than what is "expected" has just been so empowering. I know I needed it. After everything with Kings and even Evidence to a point, I was just so out of touch with my own control. Finding that again inside Nora, connecting to being more than that doll ... it's been wonderful for me.

I'm going to miss this cast. I mean, Colin's off to England on Saturday morning. But honestly, I'm just ... I've really enjoyed being back on stage. I love that I have the option to do both.

What's next? Carlos and I have talked about taking some time before Handmaid's, but right now I think there's just going to be a lot of lounging by the pool and actually enjoying this home we have together. We don't actually get to do that a lot - not together. There's talk of even painting a couple of rooms, though let's be real ... well. Maybe.
There's a Best of Tunguska Effect playlist on Spotify and I love it. I've been listening to it all week and it... I mean, it's really just all the tracks from their debut EP and from the LP.

I don't know what I'm trying to say. I feel inspired and motivated. I'm excited about making a career change to something I feel good about.

it's video sharing night!

Moment of truth: I have a deep, deep, deep seeded love of boy bands. I mean, look at their pretty and squishy and slapable faces. My first crush was Boo Boo from Boyz for Now, who were just the WORST of them. I mean, god. They shouldn't have allowed us to listen to that drivel.

They were so fabulous. I slapped Boo Boo's face. He was so cute. So fucking fabulous.

Anyway, my late night netflix marathons lately have been Jane the Virgin, Xena, and Crazy Ex Girlfriend. And upon rewatch, CEG is seriously darker than it looks at first glance. Probably because you already know she's completely batshit crazy, so you get that it's actually really sad gallows humor. All while you're completely laughing your ass off.

Anyway. This popped up tonight.

This might be the best comment about boy bands ever.

And it really makes me want to track down Boo Boo and slap him all over again.
Since we were talking about my music, I thought I'd share. I don't do this often.

I didn't write this song and I think the lyrics are questionable all things considered. But this is one of the more benign songs on the album. This acoustic version was a promotional thing and I was good friends with the guitar player. But you can tell I'm just phoning it in.

People always tell me I have such a strong voice and it's a shame I don't want to continue. There are also the people who feel the need to tell me I have the voice my mother wished she had. Why tell me that? What are you trying to accomplish?

so if you were ever curious ...

... as to what a teenage sex worker looked like ...

We're always younger than we look.

Given the jacket and the look, it was shortly before I ended up on the streets. I'm not sure how this ended up on the internet machine, but someone tagged me on twitter, asking if it was me and when. They thought it was during my merch girl days. But no. Even sitting here, I feel like I can remember the night this was taken.

Most of the photos I took then were hardly as safe as this one. And what scares me is that if this is out there, others might be. And yes, I've thought about it a lot, but whenever I do a search, they don't pop up. But if some asshole has them and thinks he can be funny posting them to his tumblr account or something ...

I'd been thinking a lot about my Uncle Rick lately. And for those of you who don't appreciate my family's liberal use of familial titles, he is actually my mother's brother. Well today I got emails from Mom, Uncle Rick, and Aunt Janice with something... well, it's quite possibly the funniest thing I've seen in a long time. But before I get to that, I want to talk about Uncle Rick.
Because it takes up a lot of spaceCollapse )

Now on to the stuff from today... though that comes with a little bit of backstory too. As you can tell from the picture, Uncle Rick bears more than a bit of a resemblance to Billy Idol. He's casually referred to as "that Billy Idol motherfucker" in the circles his job takes him in. So, when Mom and Pop got married (well, when they had the ceremony for everyone, they got married in a courthouse) Uncle Rick's present was this joking performance of him singing White Wedding. He was never a performer; even though he'd played around with Dad and the guys that went on to form TA when push came to shove he wanted nothing to do with being in a band. So him singing was something really different for him. Fast forward to this year. Uncle Rick and a couple of the other non-performing Skid employees are hanging out and joking about how they should make a joke band. They call themselves Skid Vicious (which I'm still giggling about). Mom hears about this from Aunt Janice and she instantly asks if they would do something for one of the fashion shows she does for the store.

They made a video (yes, with financial backing from Mom). And because they wanted to be ridiculous, they put in clips from fucking Zoolander, because, well, they're going to be in a fashion show, right? If you hear laughing it's probably because my entire prolific family- including all the crazy non-related people- are laughing their asses off. So here you have Skid Vicious, lead by my wonderful uncle, That Billy Idol Motherfucker:

God I have too much to do today ...

The meat guy is coming. The health inspectors showed up at like 6 AM (because they're cunts) and while we were fine, there was stuff I was going to wait to clean that now I feel like needs a good deep scrub. I'm meeting kidlet's teacher this afternoon. And I woke up and realized it's the 15th and there's tax paperwork I just forgot to do.

And we opened busy and it looks like we're going to be busy.

I'm glad Tina is still in town. I've got her working the counter while dad grills. And I'm just sitting here, staring at the meat I ordered, hoping it's going to be enough.

Take over the restaurant I said. It will be fun I said. ;)

Okay. Break's over.
John Jay has an EMT-basic course that starts in September and goes weeknights through December.

And you know what? I'm going to do it and fuck everyone who says I can't. My medical history is confidential. I don't have a criminal record.

I believed more than a year ago that I could do it and I still believe I can. I have almost 2 years of solid sobriety to my name now.

I have my consultation appointment for my hysterectomy on Friday. It's all well and good- I want this done and over with as soon as possible. But I really wish it could have happened after the anniversary of Mum's death.

For as much as I want to be done with my uterus, I know well enough that it's still going to be emotionally difficult to face the loss of something that, as a mother, is so tied to that identity. I suppose I can take comfort in the fact that at least I won't be actually losing anything for some time.

Dave has been trying his best to keep me calm. The kids are still up with my brother and his family and any dealings I've had with my sister-in-law have always been contentious, particularly with this trip. She's been loving shoving her newfound knowledge about my infidelity in my face. Every time I hear anything it sets me on edge. Which, right now, is particularly dangerous. Facing the anniversary of Mum's death is always hard; the feelings from that day come rushing at me. So now everything is compounding and even without that cunt of a sister-in-law I'm feeling edgy. I'm about set to go mental.

Thank god for an understanding husband and benzodiazepines.

and of course

The semester starts next week. I'm only partly ready.

My department head has cancelled 3 meetings about my tenure schedule.

And I've somehow been tagged in an ongoing conversation on twitter that has literally nothing to do with my views or my campaign.

It's just a Monday.

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