Porn For Girls*

Imagine your husband ... cleaning.

G rated doesn't get any hotter than this.

*I am sorry about the name.  The idea of pictures of naked people makes me want to throw up just so said vomit will cover the pictures.  I just was thinking, THIS is something I want to see.  So I called it porn for girls.  But it is not really porn.  Unless you are a girl.

Borrowing

Today, I leave you with an excerpt from a blog more inspired than I:

How to Write Badly Well [<--the blog]
Joel Stickley [<--the blauthor {<-- clever combination of the words 'blogger' and 'author}]

Commit to Cliches [<-- the excerpt]

‘Run like the wind!’ Olaf shouted. ‘The kind of wind that goes very fast in a certain direction, then changes course abruptly to avoid obstacles, whilst taking care not to let itself be caught by its pursuers!’

Anneke glanced over her shoulder. It literally felt as if her heart was in her throat – a thumping knot of muscle lodged just behind her tonsils, pumping blood around her body from its strange new position through arteries which presumably had been rerouted down her throat in some way. She ran as fast as she could, knowing that what pursued her was her worst nightmare – worse than finding herself back at school with no clothes on; worse than her teeth falling out in the middle of a business meeting; worse than not being able to understand what the man in the golden highchair was saying and then noticing that he has the face of her boss but sometimes it’s the face of her old piano tutor and she somehow knows without knowing how she knows that if she gets too close he will shout at her but the room is getting smaller and smaller and her shoes are too tight. It was worse than any of those things and was made even more terrifying by the knowledge that it wasn’t, in fact, a nightmare, but a real thing in her waking life. It was, however, a figurative nightmare, with all the concomitant emotional impact that description suggests (for which, see above).

P.S. Thank you for the birthday love! I had quite an overwhelming amount of it this year. If you ever need someone to legally purchase spray paint for you, I've got your back.

Scrumaging

On Sunday night, I realized that--despite my best efforts--I had been unable to procure any decorations for Five's big 1-8. After scrumaging around our dorm for awhile, I realized I probably wasn't going to find a big bag of brightly colored balloons or a secret stash of rainbow construction paper. But, after a little more digging, I did find several issues of the New York Times, a printer (which was actually just sitting in the middle of our room....), some yarn, and a bit of metallic wrapping paper. Being the reasonable person I am, I decided to make my own decorations...

Word to the wise: for some inexplicable reason, when you start a project at 2am, it takes a lot longer for you to finish than it should normally would. 

What to Wear to a Revolution

I decided to go check out the Occupy DC encampment yesterday.  And as I dressed for work, I laughed and thought "what does one wear to a revolution?" This came to mind, but I opted for something slightly more work appropriate and headed on my way. 

I got there, whipped out my camera, and joined the legions of photographers attempting to capture the energy of the place. There seemed to be a lot of "doing." To my left a large group sat singing and playing guitars, while in the mess tent a bearded man with a kerchief around his mouth prepared for the evening meal. And two by two by two, pairs of people stood engaged in conversation and debate. 

As I crouched to shoot some of the signs laid out a young, clean-cut man approached me. His hair was slicked back across his head and sweat dripped from his ear. He asked me what had brought me here, but his eyes made it clear this wasn't about me, it was about him. So we talked. "I wear many hats" he said in a well rehearsed tone. "I am here to lend a hand, though my personal goals have nothing to do with the movement." Then why come? I asked. And his reply? "Time. I have time to spare, so I came to lend a hand. I wear many hats..." My eyes trailed off, and now instead of doing, I saw time. And a chance to lend a hand. And many hats to wear. Protester. Leader. Revolutionary. Aide. 

In this slice of time I believe there is unity in our aimlessness. It's easy to write out a list of things that need to change, but how to enact that change is less than clear. So we look for a way to pass the time, and a hat to wear. And while I didn't come away with any conclusions on what exactly Occupy DC is trying to do, I did get an answer to my wardrobe conundrum, during a revolution there are many hats one can wear.

"If you don't know someone's preferred gender pronoun" love it.

The Anatomy of Success

I have a little secret to let you in on: Winning things is not my forte. Some people are surprised when they hear it. I hope people I encounter think that I am a relatively successful person. Of course it would follow that when I throw myself into something, I succeed.

But as my family can attest, it seems when I try for things, they rarely-if-ever work out. From relationships to contests to scholarships to application to whatever else it might be, sometimes it seems the harder I try the less luck I have of getting what I think I want. But in my not too long life, what I have learned and encountered is that success isn’t dictated by one off accomplishment -- by a win here or there, this title or that title. Success is typically achieved through perseverance, creativity and guts. And there are few things that force creativity more than apparent failure.

So next time you do your best without as much as an honorable mention, just remember being recognized for your accomplishment doesn’t make value. Doing something of value does. And that is what real success is all about.

Yay! You Win!

In case today's duo of earlier posts didn't clue you in, it is Five's birthday. I was thus slightly tempted to throw the results of this week's totally amazing giveaway in her direction. But I didn't. So, according to the good, upstanding folks at random.org., HB wins all 804 pages of The Quest!  And the cover! And TWO autographs! HB -- email us your mailing info, and the name of the person to whom you'd like the tome dedicated. (It's OK if that person is you :-)

Now, bonus points to whomever can decipher the cosmic meaning behind HB winning this mother lode shortly after leaving a desperate comment wondering why on earth it was taking me so long to post a winner. Weird, right? And, for the record, it took me so long because I was, indeed, stuck at Costco for nearly FIVE hours today while they put new tires on my car. Five is usually my favorite number. Not today....

Birthday Greetings! More! Again!