Migraines and Women

http://www.npr.org/blogs/health/2012/04/16/150525391/why-women-suffer-more-migraines-than-men?ps=cprs

"My chief task has been to conquer fear. The public sees only the thrill of the accomplished trick; they have no conception of the tortuous preliminary self-training that was necessary to conquer fear no one except myself can appreciate how I have to work at this job every single day, never letting up for a moment. I always have on my mind the thought that next year I must do something greater, something more wonderful." -Harry Houdini

Important stuff, of course...

Sometimes, when I scour the interwebs for fantastic stuff, it works.  This is one of those times.

Amish badasses

"IT'S DECORATIVE GOURD SEASON, MOTHERFUCKERS." By Colin Nissan

I love this blog, and on this blog I found the following article, named above. Here is an excerpt:

"I don't know about you, but I can't wait to get my hands on some fucking gourds and arrange them in a horn-shaped basket on my dining room table. That shit is going to look so seasonal. I'm about to head up to the attic right now to find that wicker fucker, dust it off, and jam it with an insanely ornate assortment of shellacked vegetables. When my guests come over it's gonna be like, BLAMMO! Check out my shellacked decorative vegetables, assholes. Guess what season it is—fucking fall. There's a nip in the air and my house is full of mutant fucking squash."

The entire article is located here.

Cat

Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

I just got this book-on-cd for a friend. I have throughly enjoyed every bit of this book. It is so cute, and so funny. Not to mention, witty! I recommend peeps check it out!

"Simple. I got very bored and depressed, so I went and plugged myself in to its external computer feed. I talked to the computer at great length and explained my view of the Universe to it," said Marvin.
"And what happened?" pressed Ford.
"It committed suicide," said Marvin and stalked off back to the Heart of Gold.

I'll sleep in that bed!

Please! Look at that bed! Look where it is! Climbing that ladder,...sliding into those sheets! Oy! I am not quite certain how to highlight links to other blogs, but here is where I found this image - http://verhext.tumblr.com/

The day before I start my "Big Girl" job, I cook.

Dish number 1. - Not a dish. Fucking whipped-cream-in-a-can. With peppermint flavor. So good.

Dish number 2. - Spicy Asian Slaw. "Asian". Clearly. Spicy. Yes. Here is the recipe. It's super easy to make. http://lbrookscooks.com/2010/06/17/spicy-asian-slaw/

Dish number 3. - Beef and Butternut Squash Stew. From http://erincooks.com/beef-and-butternut-squash-stew/

Her blog is way better than mine. As you can tell from time I snapped the the photo, it's not cooked fully. I am so excited to eat it. Not as excited to put it in a BPA free thermos container and go to work. I should have been a house wife (minus the popping out the puppies,...).

(Gated) lesbian Communities...

These women made their way to St. Augustine, Florida at the peak of the feminist movement. They bought some land, and made their homes, and put up their gates. There were (and are) of course, residency requirements - be a woman and be a lesbian. 

One resident, Winnie Adams (now 66) is a self-described "radical feminist separatist lesbian". She left her home in 1999 to move to this community. She had at one point been marries and had two daughters. Neither of her daughters are lesbians and are therefore disallowed from living with her. But, oh my gawdess, who would want to?

Nothing against ole Winnie, but a gated lesbitronic community? Scary movie. I don't like the idea of people isolating themselves into gated communities in the first place (think security guards, giant SUV's, pristine and empty sidewalks, and WASP's). And I certainly don't like groups of lesbians. In the woods. Alone. And wearing flannel. And feminizing. I feel like the world is so messed up and peeps need to get together and hash their shit out. The lezzers shouldn't hide in the woods--- just like the rich and white should shield themselves in their cul-de-sac. Head in the sand mentality, perhaps,...irresponsible certainly.

 But, read for yourself. (Be sure to check out the audio/photo montage, too). This community called "Alpine" is alive and well. But, I won't be moving in anytime soon

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/01/fashion/01womyn.htmk?_r=1

Listen, Victoria Stilwell, it's me or the dog,...

The Dog Whisperer, aired on National Geographic was swell. I got my fill of doggies, and training. The wild beasts are eerily reminiscent of my old dog Joe Cocker, whom I would shake the vaccuum cleaner at, rile up, and then run around the house fleeing from his bared teeth. Ah, youth. The host/trainer of the show, Ceasar Milan however? He gets on my nerves, and is sort of creepy in this i-am-a-pack-leader-in-the-sack sort of way. I get this feeling that he'd grab me by the scruff of my neck, give me a little shake, and tell me to get him a glass of water. (If you've had the pleasure of seeing the show, you will know what I am talking about...gross.)  He does have fine teeth though.

Then I found Victoria. Victoria Stilwell is the host of a very similar dog training show entitled "It's Me, Or The Dog".  The training styles of both trainers get the job dog, so to speak. But I have found myself drawn to Victoria's show. Why? This woman is a British, dog training dominatrix. He dress! Her style! Her attitude! She don't take shit off of no dog, and certainly not off any human counterpart. (It helps that she isn't creepy.) I don't get that gag in the back of my throat like I do with ole Ceasar.  I like her enough that I'd try to poo on the rug just to see if she'd come over dressed in that jacket, chain in hand. 

So, check it out! Tell me what you think! .

Here is the link to her site, wherein you can be directed to full online episodes of her show

www.victoriastilwell.com

Crockpot Love!

OK, this just in! The eighth wonder of the world: The CROCKPOT!

This ingenious invention lets you throw semi-disgusting ingredients in a pot, turn a knob, and VOILA! Several hours later, a meal!

There are several things in this universe that are useless. Tupperware with loose lids, glow-in-the-dark sunglasses, and ugly frat dudes are among the worst and most useless creations. Notice that a crockpot (a.k.a. a slow-cooker) is notably not on this list.

Tonight's concoction: Chicken Noodle Soup.


Next time: Chicken shit, perhaps?

Bitches I would lez out for

1. Marika Haggarty/Olivia Benson.
Definitey. Any time. Any place.


2. Madeline Stowe.
A friend once explained her same-sex feeling by saying, "C'mon! Madeline Stowe is gorgeous. Don't tell me you wouldn't make out with her!" Touche.


3. Seattle City Councilmember Sally Clark
Isn't there a saying about power being the ultimate aphrodisiac? Yes, ma'am!

Domestic Violence Can't Be Beat! ...get it?

It happens over and over again, and although I have taken DV (domestic violence) 101, it still ceases to amaze me. It shouldn't, I know. But, when a lady hits a dude, my minds has a hard time wrapping around it. Overwhelmingly so, the numbers paint a bloody picture over the face of women being pummeld, smacked around and pushed by men. The stats for the reverse are just as staggering. In 2001, violence against men accounted for only 15% of the total. That 103, 220 total incidents reported for violence of women against men. Women ringing in at 588, 490 total incidents. (see Bureau of Justice Statistics Crime Data Brief, Intimate Partner Violence, 1993-2001, February 2003).

But, the numbers don't translate for me. A chick doesn't hit a dude? Right? I mean, what kind of half-man takes that shit? Yes, that is some of the rhetoric floating around this noggin. But those words only get tossed around in this salad brain of mine until I remind myself that I have seen it happen in my own home. My dad, a man of the thickest moral fiber, was run over by my mother time and again. It wasn't isolated violent Law and Order moments. It graded, built up, and slowly, my mom let it out bit by bit, night by night, taking the form of mean words or grunting. He said it was her hormones. Or, maybe it was the money. Or, maybe he didn't have dinner ready for her when she came home. So, yes, kids, I know its a reality. And yes, it still weirds me out.

And frankly, I am not interested in fighting this fight. I don't want to write letters to a legislator, or protest on a college campus, or join fucking women studies. I just want to say that it's weird. And it's scary. And sometimes I still can't believe it continues in my own family, even though I've seen it time and again. You'd think my learning curve would be better.

Well, hello, gentle viewers!

"I thought you might want to know a little about me, your humble host."

Miss Katie is an avid bike rider. Her favorite pasttimes include swimming, grocery shopping, and taking advantage of old people with dementia.



Miss Charity is an avid Buffy, the Vampire Slayer fan. Her hobbies include napping, cow-tipping, and trying to pick bar fights.

Things that irritate ME

1. Misspelled words. I know that my dear friend Katie is busier than all heck, but she misspelled "breathe" and instead used "breath." Irritating. You are in law school, for god's sake. Get it together. Now I know you are probably thinking, "Charity has the typing/spelling skills of a three-legged giraffe." Fair enough... but whatever because I am a hypocritical bitch.


2. Crosswalks with no curbcuts. I pay taxes, too, motherfuckers. I would like to be able to cross the frakkin' street.


3. Dead spiders in corners. Although I must say that I find dead spiders preferable to live ones, there is something extremely grating about those little jerks hanging there all deceased. It's like they're laughing at you with their little withered, crumpled-up legs. "Haha," their corpses must be thinking. "I used to scare the living daylights out of you with my arachnid qualities. Remember the time you threw your roommate's cat at me hoping it would devour me? You couldn't get rid of me then, and you can't get rid of me now! Bwahahaha!" Jesus Christ! You are dead. At least have the decency to disappear or crump in a non-public venue.

Things that irritate me...

1. Loud breathing. Do not sit behind me and breath. Widen your nostrils, open your throat. I don't want to hear you gargling, or sighing. You had a bad day? Fuck you, I don't care. I don't want to hear you breathing. And man in the computer lab with creme-colored pants, I don't even mind the fact that your package is bulging in your ugly pants. Why? Because I'd rather stare at your dick than hear you breath.

2. Red Delicious Apples. Misnomer. Red? Yes. Delicious? No.

3. Tweezers that don't have flush edges. I know, how often does that happen? But really, when you are trying to go after that tiny black hair on your chin, and you have to dig into your skin to get that bitch, it fucking ruins a morning.

4. A privately owned Federal Bank. Doesn't that seem sketchy to anyone? The Federal Reserve is "owned" by big private banks around the country. True, the term of ownership needs to be hashed out. The member/owner banks must invest 3% of their capital stock in the Federal Reserve Banks. They cannot sell that stock, an cannot trade it, and cannot use it as collateral in order to borrow more money. However the private banks DO receive 6% per year from the Federal Reserve Banks. Also, the private banks get to elect each Federal Reserve Banks Board of Directors. Can you say, "conflict of interest"? And now, since all these mondo banks are going belly-up, and the Federal Reserve is intimately tied to the belly-up banks? Connect the dots. Irritating. Very. http://federalreserve.gov/generalinfo/aqfrs.htm#8

5. Bushy pubes. Effing trim. Tame it. I don't need to see it at the gym. And no, don't talk to me with your pubes hanging out. If your towel is pushed up by your pubes when its wrapped aroud your waist, you have way too much pube.

6. The sound of cats licking themselves.Oh my GAWD! You have all fucking day to clean your cat-ass! Yes, I am going to throw my pillow at you at 3am, cat.