Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia

Oo-oo I Feel Like Making Love, Too Yooou

About fifteen years ago I was having a conversation with my doctor about my weekly bladder infection, and the conversation turned into this:

"And when was the last time you made love to your husband?" he asked.

"Um ... we had sex two nights ago."

"And did you drink water before and after you made love?"

"I had some water before we had sex, I believe."

"Made love."

"I'm sorry?"

"Made love."

And because I was young and modest, I said "OH! Yes, we made love," instead of "No, I fucked him till his eyes rolled back in his head" which is what I would have said today because, Doctor, maybe you believe two rutting rhinoceroses can make gentle tender love but I disagree.

So it's time for a poll, and again your anonymity is assured. I'm trying to see if "make love" is an appropriate synonym for "have sex."

I'm not counting foreplay. That can be gentle and tender and loving. But to get the job done, you need to get passionate in ways that aren't what I would call tender, unless perhaps there is a weekly bladder infection involved. I'm not saying violent, I'm not saying painful, I'm just saying the required enthusiasm precludes what I picture "making love" to be.

Then I started thinking, what would that even look like? A "loving" reproductive act would be quiet.  And slow. And lots of eye contact. And possibly a nap during, because I'm sorry, that just doesn't work. I think humans have some boom-chika-wow-wow innate tempo.

What about movies? You'd think I'd have seen an R rated movie with some love-making. The best I could think of was "Out of Africa" with Robert Redford and Meryl Streep - and yes, he tells her not to move. "Don't move." "But I want to move." "Don't move." Robert would have me looking deep into his eyes with a questioning "what type of freak are you?" gaze.

Okay, so do you call what you do making love? And is it?

On the Bright Side, I'm Sure My Autographed Crocs Have Doubled in Value

Hey, you in the Feed Reader, we're all in full mourning out here.

Steven Page has left BNL to pursue a solo career. I am morose. I am morose because I strongly suspect he will begin his solo career by banging his 27 year old girlfriend. I understand that touring is a relationship-killer, and the guy's in love, and a new album and a summer tour wouldn't be perfect this year.

But, that is just conjecture, and it seems from interviews that he is leaving to have a career as the voice of Babar the elephant, doing another solo CD, some work with classical musicians, some work with theater in England doing scores for their productions.  

I was thinking today, bah, I bet anything he ducks under the radar and never has to make eye contact with a stranger again, even haughty hostile eye contact (or, as I like to think of it, a long, hard, penetrating look). I had read he was initially baffled as to what his fans wanted from him, and I didn't quite understand that until I heard one fan on the cruise cry out a garbled string of compliments that ended with "befitting the GOD THAT YOU ARE!" (And I just briefly considered putting two exclamation points there, that's how over the top it was.)

So I was formulating a new life for him (as you do) sans fawning pawing strangers and exhausting concerts and I thought, "He should be a writer."  Not necessarily a songwriter, but write a novel or a book of poetry. I think if I had a novel every four years plus old BNL concerts on YouTube, I'd be good.

Oddly, then I scanned the message boards and found a link to his new blog. So, you'd think that would cheer me up, hearing posts about American politics and random grumblings, but I think it might turn into the Steven Page infomercial, nothing but tour dates in England, Canada and the Upper Northwest.

Sigh. The heavy mourning will lie over my blog until the weekend. Then I shall square my shoulders and soldier on.

Me, on a Boat, Being a Moron.

At first glance this may look at like a simple video of Boothby Graffoe performing his modern classic, "Kittens in a Bag."

If you listen until 1:03 minutes in, after Boothby expresees pleasure that we cheered the introduction of "Kittens in a Bag," you will get to hear me be an idiot. Still, people laughed, otherwise it just would have been embarassing.

Then listen to the rest of the song. It is priceless.

(Big thanks to Polyester Angel, who took this video on the cruise. She must have been sitting in front of me. )

Cupcake Whine

I call shenanigans on Cupcake Wine.

Gary spotted it first.

I ran up to the display first.

"Eeeee! A wine that tastes like cupcakes!" Then we grabbed the Merlot and the Chardonnay.

The label said some lying lies about how it was a sweet wine with a distinct creamy vanilla taste, overtones of citrus, with a hint of spice.

No. IT TASTED LIKE WINE. And wine tastes like stomach acid.

I really tried to believe. I drank a glass of the Chardonnay and repeated, "I DO taste vanilla, I do I do I do - " and I did not.

However, I washed it down with a glass of Riverboat Red. "I do detect a hint of Welch's grape juice with a sugary finish," I thought, and I was right.

What do people see in wine? I want to like it. Cool people drink wine. People come to work and discuss wine. They taste their wines and detect blueberries. I taste bile. I am about to give up. Plus, I've now had three glasses of Riverboat Red and my head hurts.

I think someone needs to call the Truth in Labelling people. You shouldn't be able to call it Cupcake Wine unless it tastes like cupcakes.

Cuisine dePaul

Now that the Hip Crisis is now the Hip Problem, I can complain. And in typical egocentric fashion, I am here today to complain about how Ken's horrible hip problem affects my belly. I have been required to eat my last few meals at the DePaul Hospital cafeteria.

Here are the entree selections in the "Cafe" for the last few days:

Pepperoni Pizza

Pre-wrapped hamburgers and hot dogs with pre-boxed French Fries

Fried [Fill in the blank] Protein. This varies by day. So far I've seen Fried Chicken Strips, Country Fried Steak, Fried Shrimp, and Fried Catfish.

The above is served with Cheese [Fill in the blank] Vegetables or Collard Greens, a happy spot of color in the row of browns and orange. There is also succotash, happily. I love succotash.

A salad bar with four items: iceberg lettuce, cherry tomatoes, green pepper, hard-boiled egg

Evidently, DePaul Hospital is skewing its menu not toward the nurses and doctors who want healthy food but toward the patient's families who they must think want Fried Comfort Food. And PIE my gawd the pie. Gary got Coconut Cream Raspberry Pie. A la Waitress I got My In-Laws are Crazy Pecan Pie.

Then, on top on all this comfort food (or really against the side wall) there are pre-made desserts: ice cream bars, Rice Krispie Treats, and ...

Whole-wheat Pop Tarts.

These are an abomination. Earlier this month I was getting back at Gary for missing the cruise, and I did that by defiantly eating "bad" food. When I got the box of Chocolate Pop-Tarts home and realized they were whole-wheat I thought, "Oh, how bad can it be?"

It can be bad.

I had to go out and buy a box of Real Chocolate Pop-Tarts to wash the taste out of my mouth and restore my now-defiled childhood memory.

(An aside: seriously, even the real ones didn't have the crispy delicious corners of my childhood. I think they've made all the Pop-Tarts lower in fat as a reaction to the Dave Barry Pop-Tart expose. (Aside aside: That same thing happened to my friend Theresa. They re-habbed their kitchen and decided to celebrate with Pop-Tarts the next morning. The Pop-Tarts ignited and whooshed flame up to the freshly lacquered cabinets. Heartbreaking. Dave Barry could have made it funny.))

At any rate: why Whole-Wheat Pop-Tarts after they have obviously embraced the Soul Food - College Food Fusion cuisine? I'll have to deduct a star.

Shush up Already! People!

Why Bad Things Happen

Update - Ken is out and fine-only crazy cranky!

==========================

Maybe bad things happen to us  so we know how to behave when bad things happen to others.

Gary's Dad broke his hip yesterday.

Karen was at the hospital every minute because she felt so comforted when her husband stayed with her in the hospital.

I was at the hospital to be with Gary, since his Dad was sick and he was with me and Mom every evening when she was in the hospital.

Mom never visited anyone in the hospital because she hated getting visits when she was thirteen and in the hospital with polio.

Surgery is tomorrow. Gotta get to bed. Send warm wishes to my Dad-in-law.

Slice of Life

10:00 pm. Sitting next to Gary watching tv.

10:01. I get up and go to the bathroom.

10:04. "Ellen! Where did you go? What are you doing in there?" He didn't hear any comforting noises, I imagine.

"I am in the BATHROOM!" In my family you didn't talk to people in the bathroom. I have only recently succumbed to social pressure and have begun talking while in both public and private bathrooms.

"What are you doing in the bathroom? Are you coming out?"

"I AM CLIPPING MY NOSE HAIRS,"  I yelled, because it was true.

"Well I'm OUT here! Waiting! With my elbows!"

We've discovered that the new tv led to a new furniture arrangement which led to a lack of elbow room. We find ourselves rubbing elbows and giggling. There's a lot of elbow stimulation going on here. Get the lube.

10:05.Gary scanned through the TiVo suggestions. "Mystery Diagnosis ... Iron Chef ... DaVinci Code .. Young Frankenstein ..."

"Coed. DaVinci Co-ed. It's porn."

"No! No it isn't."

The movie opened with a scene of a fat man in a pool with two busty bi-sexual women. Gary still claimed it might not be porn. We had to watch a few scenes until he became bored. No elbow-rubbing augmented the porn part of the evening.

10:30. We switched to Young Frankenstein, which was just gorgeous on the new tv, plus it was evidently NOT edited for time and content.

The best part comes a minute and a half in, when they rub elbows.

Target

I've been going to Target for a long time. Not as long as Target's been around; it's been around since I was born: 1962. I went to Target when there were two non-Kmart discount stores: Venture and Target, and they were essentially the same.

This is my Target:

 

I went to Target when Mom called it "Tar-ghey" and people laughed because they hadn't heard that joke before. That's how long I've been going to Target.

Then Target ate Venture and then went through some upscale makeover.

We all went to Target some weekend in 1999 and came out going, "Dang, that's some nice stuff at Target. Too nice for me. Where do I go for my junk -" and then Walmart heard us and erupted from the ground at our feet. Meanwhile, you kids have been going to Target not knowing its lowly position on the Great Chain of Being of Chain Stores - one rung above K-Mart and two rungs above GrandPa Pidgeon's.

I mention this because there's a Target by the Starbuck's by my house and I thought they might have some water-based lubrication products.  I thought I was cool because I have a silicone-based lubrication product, but evidently a pricey new friend requires a water-based product. 

The lube is by the condoms, and it always makes me feel a little self-conscious hanging out by the condoms, so I was pointedly not standing in front of those naughty condoms when I saw

THIS.

AT.

THE.

TARGET.

Liner Notes

I just came back from a cruise, a wonderful cruise. I'll try to sum up what I liked so much about it. I started every day with Eggs Benedict, just like they do in heaven, spent every day watching some member of Paul McCartney's favorite band (click that link, ya haters), and ended every day reading The Bright Forever.

I finished the book and acknowledgments in the airport heading home. After the acknowledgments, the author, Lee Martin, includes "Liner Notes." It's all the songs he references in the text, plus songs that "evoke the characters and their story." There's a lot of Neko Case and Blacklisted - well, read what he says about it on blog.largeheartedboy.com, specifically here. That same blog previously mentioned how much Steven Page likes the Mountain Goats - and hey, I was just on the BNL cruise with the Mountain Goats.

I'd be cynical and tell you these cruises give you a false sense of intimacy with these bands, but I can't be that cynical. Here's an example: the guy in the front row of the KY Casino show who threw my green dress up on stage painted a bunch of ping pong balls with the names of songs BNL hadn't played for a while. So at each show the band pulled a few ping pong balls out of the bucket and sang those songs. That guy sat behind me at the first show. Another impromptu moment happened when the band closed the last show with a dedication to a messageboard member who died.

And here you go, another two degrees of separation - Sally and Penny chatted with Dave Foley and Kevin McDonald from Kids In The Hall during the Superbowl. I found this out when I went to Trivia with Penny, and then later when Penny fell asleep in the front row of Kevin McDonald's one man show. (And to quote Kevin, "WAAAAKKKKEEE UPPPP!"  and then something like "I thought we were friends! We watched the Superbowl together!")

That show (evidently his "Hammy and the Kids" one-man show) was a highlight of the cruise for me. Granted, the first hour I felt guilty laughing at his genuinely abusive drunken father, but then it became uplifting  - not in a comical / funny way, but in the classic sense of comedy, in that the resolution of the conflict is positive.  It was so raw and human. It reminded me of the enhanced humanity sensation I get after every cruise and every visit to the art museum, only this time it didn't make me feel unpleasant.  I just love it when people are unabashedly themselves. It was so honest I had dreams about lying for the next two nights.

It's beginning to look like there might not be another cruise this next year, so where else can I go to get my community fix? Any good music festivals you guys know of? I wanna feel painfully human like the rest of you.

Elvis

Gary was in a rush to get to his haircut yesterday and was yelling at the IDIOTS in front of him who were FOOLISHLY driving the F____ING SPEED LIMIT THE HELL and then he honked at them.

I looked at him in disgust.

"Elvis doesn't like when people are in front of him," he said.

I let that slide, but then a few minutes later when I heard "Elvis gets cranky when he's hungry,"  I realized he's been watching The United States of Tara and has developed an alternate personality.

"Elvis is an asshole," I volunteered, and he agreed.

Naked, Natural, and Romantic

Naked

The BNL Ships and Dip Naked Photo '09 (taken by David Bergman, Big Deal Photographer).

  

Here I am, in front of the yellow waterslide (edited to protect the innocent):

  

Okay, you should see three women- I'm behind the second woman from the left. (I'm not edited. Check out my pixels.) See the sunglasses? Somehow this tiny 100 pound woman in front of me kept me from being all out there.

Natural

So, in a search for makeup that doesn't make me look like Marcel Marceau made over to look like an aging Joan Crawford, I selected a new shade of lipstick that seemed more natural.

It is more natural. In fact, it's the exact same shade as my lips. This is me with three coats of this lipstick (not lip gloss, lipstick) on the left side.

That's not what's funny. The shade is named "Demure." It's me, don'tcha think?

Romantic

Saturday night, as we were watching Grindhouse and Quentin Tarintino's testicles were dripping off, I snuggled up to my (screaming, writhing) husband and whispered, "This is the best Valentine's Day ever."

Grace in Big Things

1. No airplanes have fallen from the sky into my subdivision.

Cruise Moment

With every cruise, there is a cruise moment, and mine came on Thursday night at 9:30 on the pool deck.

The pool on the pool deck was empty, because it was 50 degrees out. That's 50 Fahrenheit, by the way, and let me interject that nothing teaches you the difference between centigrade and Fahrenheit faster than the shower dials on the Norwegian Jewel. "50 degrees? That's the top? Let's dial it up to 11!"

So, it was cold, 40 with wind chill, and The Weakerthans assembled on stage in hoodies and mufflers. (This band is great - if you like words, you'll like this band.)

At first there were about nine people assembled in front of the stage, including me, and Keri, who was front row dead center. They chatted with us about hot chocolate, and I asked the girl next to me to hold my spot while I got the band some hot beverages:

While I was getting the Irish coffee the crowd swelled to oh, thirty people. (The band is in that little Sound of Music gazebo.)

When I got back, the woman I asked to save my spot said, "Is your name Ellen?"

I thought, how does she know me? On the cruise, people knew me by the chicken purse, as the Unfortunate Mrs. Passport, as the bra flasher, or as "Ellen From Saint Louis" from the message board. Oh, it must be the message board, I thought.

"Yes, I'm Ellen."

"Are you from Saint Louis?"

(Duuurr, I thought, that's why my screen name is: "Ellen from Saint Louis.") "Yes, I am."

Come to find out, she recognized me by my windblown hair from my new about photo ! It was Rachel! My first blog recognition!

That's what made it the ideal moment for this cruise - I was cold and alone, and then the chill and emptiness turned out to be a good thing - it got me on top of the band and surrounded by friends.

Obese Don't Crease, Baby

Good news from Time Magazine:

Fat Reduces Wrinkles

 

How I wasn't Alone

I wasn't very lonely on the cruise, for several reasons:

Reason One

Miss Manners says that there is a principle: "The roof constitutes an introduction," and that while it doesn't apply to a bus, it applies to a ship. (This always comforts me as I drop my robe and stand naked with a thousand others.)

I am here to say that the chicken purse constitutes an introduction. I believe Erin should be the only one in New York with a chicken purse, but if you don't live in New York and intend to travel, go to Pylones and get yourself a Chicken purse:

and as important, the matching coin purse:

   

Here's an example of the power of the Chicken Purse: I was in the Miami airport, eavesdropping my way through a conversation on global warming theories. The active invited participants were scientists just come from a conference. Then their conversation went on to the Octuplets. A sharp grey-haired scientist idled her eyes on my purse and said to her friends,  "You shouldn't have kids unless you can care for them -- Oh! That's a chicken purse!"

"Yes." (Take a moment for chicken purse / coin purse bit. Bok bok at woman.) "But you know, with the octuplet lady, where you you draw the line? How much money do you need to make to have octuplets? Can she rely on her family? I imagine if she were married she'd rely on her husband, so why not live with her parents? And by whose standards is she supporting the kids - is 24 meals a day enough, or is it 24 meals and new shoes, or 24 meals, shoes and a college fund?"

Not that I'm a fan of octuplet lady, I just was excited listening to them debate global warming. Sadly, I had to catch my plane almost immediately.

Reason Two

The other reason I wasn't lonely on the cruise was that I begged for attention. As soon as I started to see the people I knew from the cruise message board, I insisted they had to call me over for dinner or drinking if they saw me alone. They were very convivial.

Reason Three

I like talking with you people. Thanks for commenting.

Spunky is thrilled to have Crocs autographed by the band.

She was sure they had called her to the registration desk because of her Visa card, but evidently celebrity recycled Crocs were waiting for her.

Crocs are good for Spunky, because otherwise her raw sexuality would be too much for mere men.

Six toed cock in key west

Hey CHRISTY -Rachel says hi!

Pah! Previously titled "Hey Kristie -Rachel says hi!" - Because it was late and cold and I was brain dead. You can ask Rachel, she knows I know it's Christy.

I did not buy this hat

Ed Robertson meets my eyebrow

People were taking photos of Ed (lead BNL guitarist). I thought for the first time I'd get a photo, so I walked up, pulled out my iPhone, and thrust my purse in his hands.

Here's what I did wrong. Have you ever made the same reference so many times that you assume everyone knows what you mean? Here's what happened, told  from Ed's point of view:

------

Ed says:

This middle-aged woman walks up to me, shrieks, 'Hold my big rubber cock,' then lifts up her shirt. When the crowd gasps, she shrugs, 'it's my policy.'

I could tell she couldn't get the shot with her iPhone, so I told her I didn't think it would work ... but I was here for her.

She scared me a little.

 -------------

I asked -it's mahi mahi, not dolphin

Got lobster instead.

In Which we discover BRC is actually a girl

They have real cocks in Key West. Going to Hemingways house. Not that I like Hemingway. Might skip it.

Brush with greatness part one

When I was dining with the BRC, Kevin Hearn was two tables over, by himself. He was very respectful and didn't interrupt my meal. I know he wanted my autograph.

My dinner with BRC

I only ordered one crabcake because I didn't want to get too full

Ellen Say RELAX

I have been noticing the difference between being relaxed with Gary around and being actually relaxed without having Gary insisting we will die at any moment. For example, I drank some bottled water in Cozumel without someone telling me I would catch a disease. ("Tap water! It's just tap water! There's no plastic seal on that!")

Granted, Gary makes my life exciting, but after adjusting for a day I realized I'malways just a little on edge waiting for the next crisis to almost happen. That can be just a little stressful. Like watching that show 24 to relax, essentially.

Since Gary does so much to make my life exciting, maybe I should do a little to make his life more relaxing. A Yoga class, perhaps. ("No! Ellen, we can't do yoga! Are you INSANE? We'll pull a muscle!")

UPDATED: Montage

I arranged all my photos at the photo area and discovered only these three. I had yanked up my shirt at least ten times for the cruise people.

UPDATED: Since I was very rarely alone, I was in five of those photos with other people, and they bought those photos.  

I started introducing myself to groups of people as either "Ellemon from the message board" or "Chicken Purse Lady" or "The woman whose husband forgot his passport." If a person didn't recognize any of those, someone else would say, "She's the woman flashing her bra at the photographers when they show all the shipboard photos." Then the other person knows who I am even if they don't recognize my face.

Becs-Alans hair is still long

Photo of him with a random friend.

Thunderstorm at sea

Feud

Storm

Naked Photo

I am utterly exposed in the naked photo.

I  also have a new policy about the Norwegian Cruise Lines Photos. If anyone tries to takes my photo, I flash my granny bra at them. They say a heavily accented "ononoono' and I'm all, 'take my photo and put it up on Deck 7.' Some do, some don't.

UPDATED: Chicken purse ponders the ocean

Actually, the rooster comb proves he's a male,so his name is now Big Rubber Cock.

UPDATED: Did you know chickens have combs too? I didn'tknow that. Travel really broadens you.

Looking out for my leukocytes

This woman spitzes you as you board.

Sign outside the Irony of the Seas

Husband

He is critical, negative, melodramatic and a bit of a dumbass and I really miss him right now.

Spunky Labia enjoys the stateroom.

Hell! Now even fresher

And hey,now the credit card people have cut off my card! And they looked into it, said "Oh wow" and would then only tell me to call the credit union. So the one working card we brought with us, Gary's debit card, has to go with me. We keep saying "it's only money." We are dumbasses. And we've been very relieved Gary has enough money in his account and I can just send him home. UPDATE: Just this morning, days later, the credit card people about the issue. Happily, it got resolved the next day, as best I can tell. I would like to say - "What do you mean, someone used my card in the the Carribean? It's been right here with me in Saint louisin my new purse - AAAAkkk! It's gone!" and then they would negate all the charges.