As many of you know, in times of stress and duress, I often turn to eBay. This angst when coupled with intoxication leads to less than practical purchases. Past ones include: A My Pet Monster, roller skates, Hostess Pajamas intended for a Barbie Doll, a giant Tootsie Roll pillow, and a chainmail bra . Last week, while I looking for a sweater with a fox face on it--I awoke that day knowing only that one item would make my wardrobe complete. I found myself in the store of a seller who both intrigued and frightened me. I have deduced from the contents of their cybershop that this is either the most eclectic and interesting person around or the world's next prolific serial killer. I will let you decide.
Here is a list of some of the things they were selling:
Brenda Walsh 90210 Doll with Bathing Suit.
Lot of eight metal hose knobs.
Holly Hobby Collector Plate Set.
Gap Kids hot pink jeggings, Size small.
Flask emblazoned with Robert E. Lee and Jefferson Davis.
Size 12 Nike Women's basketball shoes.
AZO Urinary Tract Infection Cranberry Health tablets.
Betty Davis "The Unsinkable" Super 8.
First Edition, signed copy of "The Exorcist."
Pair of Animal Art Forms (pictured above). I purchased those. They should be arriving between March 5-9.
Do I draw? No. Do I have any room for them on the boat? No. Do I find them useful in any way? No. Then, why did I buy them? They spoke to me...or rather meowed and barked at me...and for some reason I felt compelled. Now, I have decided they might be evil and jump off their metal rods, sneak across the room on their little hinged legs, and do horrible things to me while I sleep. But, it's not my sanity we're discussing today.
My friend Renee, who is my go-to girl for all things webtastic, shared TedTalk by Cesar Kuriyama with me and I found it absolutely fascinating. I also knew right off the bat that I would never be able to do it. I too often forget or break my phone/camera/gadgety thingies to depend on a video to document my life. However, I’ve decided to do my own version of his project in which I write a single sentence each evening that somehow encapsulates the highlights of my day. So far this is what I have for the past week and a half.
My Life Sentence
02/10 – Bubblegum seizures are not nearly as much fun as the name suggests.
02/11 – She asked how my day had gone so far, and so I told her…that and so much more.
02/12 –Get your shit together and feel the burn, Finger toe.
02/13—Sometimes love comes between two buns with mayonnaise and a sincere apology.
02/14—Today, I dipped a strawberry in…squinted at…and purchased for $5.28 a portion of pure bliss.
02/15—I realized I have the gift to see how big or small or not at all one’s soul is.
02/16—It is all a well-constructed and grammatically-correct lie.
02/17—There were more Kodak moments to capture than minutes in the day.
02/18—You can be cracked up, cracked out, or just cracked, like my one egg and the Walmart cashier.
02/19—Dancing to Oldies but Goodies with an Oldie but a Goodie merits a kickass afternoon.
02/20— Panic-stricken, I searched the dock, and then finally found him sleeping in a drawer.
02/21— A case of the hateful meanies got under my skin and into my bloodstream.
02/22-- My version of "Eat, Pray, Love" didn't involve any praying or loving but lots of pork and Cheetos.
02/23--Why is the one in the midst of the midlife crisis always the last to realize it?
I often wonder if I could ask God anything and get a definitive answer on the spot, what exactly would I ask. It changes from week to week, day to day, minute to minute, but there are always three questions that reassert themselves again and again. One of these is, “Is it wrong to eat meat?”
I have ping ponged back and forth between being a vegetarian and a carnivore for the last twenty years, with my longest meatless stint being a solid three. I even wrote a 280 page novel whose final message winds up being “Don't eat pork.” And, though in my heart I genuinely feel that for me a vegetarian lifestyle is the way, I constantly relapse and shove my face full of something medium rare.
So, my heart says “no meat,” but here is the argument my head makes...
If humans weren't supposed to eat meat then why do we have canine teeth?
Canine teeth are strictly evolutionary. Humans once had to eat meat to survive. But now vegetables and legumes are widely available so soon they'll fall out.
Alright, but what is really wrong with eating meat for now...since we still have the teeth for it, and all.
Nothing if you want to eat pain and fear. The animals we consume live a life of discomfort and, in some cases, torture and then are slaughtered under heinous conditions. When you consume their flesh, you are taking in and digesting pain and fear.
I can't argue with that. But what if I could find sources for meat where the animals were raised well and then killed humanely.
Killed humanely...isn't that an oxymoron?
So what about cheese and eggs? Nothing dies for cheese and eggs?
No, but egg producing chickens are treated perhaps worse than any other creature on the planet. They are mutilated by having their beaks cut off and spend their lives in a horrifyingly tiny space. It's the same for dairy cows. They are basically treated as milk machines that are used up and then sent to slaughter.
So you're saying that I might as well order an omelet with ham and hate and a side of cheddar cruelty?
Basically, and don't even get me started on the commercial fishing industry...
This internal argument goes on and on, with the vegetarian voice always making more sense, while the Fred Flintstone part of me begs for a hunk of brontosaurus.
That's why I need God to settle it once and for all and tell me it is just plain wrong to eat meat, so if I knew he/her would give me a definite answer today, I'd look God in the face and say,
“If it is sin to eat meat, then why did you make bacon taste so good?”
Since this Tete-a-Tete Thursday falls on the day dedicated to all things love and lust, it is only appropriate that my partner in Bourbonista Banter is my fellow Sister Provocateur, Jessi Fehrenbach, also known in the blogisphere as Captain Sex Kitten. In her hilarious and heartfelt blog, she "shares with friends her thoughts about lust, love, and life in between and seeks to provide a positive forum for the exploration of bold new pleasures and sexy ways of being."
The Bourbonista: Tell me about yourself in 50 words or less. At least one word must begin with the letter X and none must begin with the letter S.
Jessi: Booty, Brains, and Beauty (says my t-shirt). I'm a type 7 Enneagram, witchy-buddhist, tremendous hearted world-saver. Also rock n' roll as fuck. Hot and strong, like a good cup of coffee. Amateur permaculturist. Reiki Master (mistress?) Healer and Mentor. Punk flautist. Kentucky Moonshine. Xenoblast.
The Bourbonista: You got me. I had to look up Xenoblast. So, our readers don't have to do the same I shall offer up the definition as given by Dictionary.com. Xenoblast- a crystal that forms in metamorphic rock and gets its outline from neighboring crystals. Doesn't it feel good to learn something? Moving on, if you were a circus performer, what would you be and why?
Jessi: I would be the Ringmistress with the mostest. Watching over the whole freakshow family. Taking care of all the bruises and burns, breaking up midget fights, leading the whole marching band and the whole kit n' kaboodle in a six gun sequined salute to Showbiz. Excitement, glamor, drama, intrigue, gypsy wagons, tall boots, a torrid affair with the tiger trainer......Considering the career change now...
The Bourbonista: I've always wanted to work with big cats and be a tiger tamer...just saying. What would you do if you won the lotto?
Jessi: I have a secret “what if I win the lotto” spreadsheet that details where the money goes and why. Seriously. I mean, most lotto winners is that they go all nuts and buy stuff just because they can. Anyhow, a peek at my spreadsheet includes investments in sustainable living in my own home to contribute to the creation of a completely “off the grid” urban village, funding for creative public projects including music and art lessons for people of all ages, and a community holistic healing center for people and animals. There's no shortage of talented, interesting people around here who want to make the world a better place – funds would be invested wisely between long term investments in our community and creative culture, random acts of kindness, and adopting an ocelot. Even with all of these prioritized plans, I don't play the lotto a lot. Just randomly once in a while when there's a full moon or it's my cat's birthday or the sun is shining up Libra's skirt. Winning the lotto is a totally random thing, and should occur suddenly, without investing more than ten dollars. Says the person with a spreadsheet about it. I know.
The Bourbonista: I bet even Mother Teresa didn't have a spreadsheet outlining her plans for good work. I am impressed. If you were on death row....don't act like we don't know who you killed to get there....what would be your last supper?
Jessi: A fried green tomato BLT and tomato bisque from Stella's KY Deli. A doughnut pyramid made out of N. Lime Coffee's chocolate covered strawberry cake dripping with caramel sauce. Also Macaroni n' cheese. Not the gross orange powdered kind, the real kind. And Goodfella's pizza.... and I would eat it ALL.
The Bourbonista: Hell to the Yeah! I might kill somebody just to get that fine feast. Now, here's a good one...write a short thank-you letter to your future self for all the cool shit you've done twenty years from now
Dear Jessi -
Thank you for helping to start a the most kick-ass community marching band in Kentucky and possibly the Universe. March Madness Marching Band rocks and makes people of all ages very happy. Thank you for having the courage to work as a healer, helping soothe emotional and physical pain, releasing and transforming energy in positive directions. Thank you for being strong in the face of extreme adversity -- what doesn't kill you sometimes gives you big weird scars, which sometimes nobody can see except for the people who are trying to survive exactly what you've been through, and surviving is worth it if you can help at least one other soul get to the other side.....Also, thanks for building that moon rocket, space travel is really awesome.
The Bourbonista: Baby, your big weird scars are in all the right places! If you were a booze, which booze would you be and who would drink you?
Jessi: I'd be a good old “Kentucky Motherfucker.” Classic Ale8 and top shelf Bourbon. Enjoyed by rock stars, drag queens, misfits, roughnecks and riff-raff everywhere. Let's be friends.
*Photo By Nash Werner*
Of late, I have oft had to ask myself "Is this funny?" or "Is this offensive?" Usually, the answer is a resounding BOTH. Being raised in the South, I have heard the phrase, "If you don't have something nice to say, then don't say anything at all" my whole life. And at dinner parties and family functions and such, I try to abide. Despite the fact that I don't shy away from controversy, I don't run toward it either. Like most sane people, I don't enjoy conflict. I prefer peace. I believe in choosing kindness and that love is the answer.
But, I also believe in art. And if the words, "If you don't have anything nice to say..." were a law, not a suggestion, then there would be no stand-up, no political cartoons, no restaurant reviews, no social satire sites, no documentary films, no Rotten Tomatoes, and no sketch comedy. I don't want to live in a world without Saturday Night Live.
People often declare that I have no filter and ask if there is anything I won't write. As a matter of fact, just the other day, I curbed myself. It was on the anniversary of Roe v. Wade and the social media sites were burning up with rhetoric from both sides. My first response was to write and publish the following:
"Abortion is a gray issue. I cannot begin to definitively know when life begins. That is why I'll stick with infanticide. Put a basket containing a fully-formed, cooing infant clothed in Baby Gap on my doorstep with a note saying that I have to keep it, and I'll club that thing like a baby seal."
However, with emotions running hot, I chose not. Now, it won't get me any babysitting gigs, but I think it sums up my views on the right to choose in my typical over-the-top, tongue-in-cheek way. Of course, I would never harm a baby or a seal, nor believe that anyone else ever should. And, I feel that abortion is the weightiest and most individualized decision that any woman must make regardless of their political leanings. And I know that we, as women, have responsibilities and options, starting with reproductive health education and birth control and ending with adoption.
BUT, I also know that disagreement, discussion, and debate are the first steps toward understanding, compromise, and positive change. Therefore, as an artist, I feel it is my responsibility to say, "Bring on the hate if it will start the debate."
I spend far too much time coming up with the perfect name for the punk band that I will never form. The one that belts out thought-provoking songs about politics and religion and the Kardashians and breaks Hummel figurines onstage and noses in the first row. Our first album will be "Pass the Placenta, Please." So far the contenders for my badass band are:
1) Gummy Spleen
2) Dog Fart
3) Pus Gargle
4) Taint Stabber
5) Satan's Sandbox OR The Devil's Daycare
7) Elder Rape
And, then there is always my old standby...And, welcome to the stage...Magnetic Clit.
the bourbonistA, Promoting Debauchery and stamping out political-correctness one blog at a time.