The time has come. Blogger is becoming such a pain in my patoot I'm switching to Tumblr. Please to continue to follow my rambles at my new homestead, oh pilgrims and pioneers. Please to follow.
Also, keep your peepers peeled at my youtube channel. I just got a new shiny that makes videos even more good for watching and stuff. There will be more of that.
Look around you. Nature is all around you, unless you're inside, and then the nature is outside. Go to the window and look out at it. Nature is dangerous, and wild. Nature wants to kill you. Nature is one twisted ankle on a day hike away from killing you. Nature is a dick.
Sometimes people like to paint nature. This is called "art".
For those of you who love art, there is art that is awesome and you don't have to love stuff like nature that isn't cool to enjoy it. And that art is made by a woman named Kat Martin.
Recently my life was made complete by the creation of a new Kat Martin masterpiece (or MARTsterpiece) and much like this clever woman...
...Kat has captured my essence and imprisoned me in a painting! A fantastic zombtastic painting!
but there's so much more. Take a look at some of these beauties:
So shut up, boring nature! Now nature has stuff in it! From Kat! Kat Martin!
It's getting hot in Hollyweird, and to save money on air conditioning I've taken to wandering around Target where it's nice and cool. I've spent quite a bit of time (and money) lurking in the book section. Where I'm still yelling at the books. It's not their fault they have stupid covers (Unless we're talking about Glenn Beck, and then he deserves all the being left in the douche section he can get!) but still...
We're nowhere near Baen territory with these, they're not terrible in and of themselves, but someone needs to hatch a new idea once in awhile. It's your job to make books look different from other books. If every book is going to look like every other book, why bother to put them in aisles based on what's actually written in them? Here, I'll make things easier. Then publishers don't have to worry their little heads about whether the book in front of them is non-fiction or romance. They can just glance at the cover between cocktails and throw it into one of the following piles:
Walkin' Around Outside!
Who Cares About Nature and Shit? Let's Get the Fuck Outta Here!
Holdin' Hands!
Brides Without Heads!
EVERY PAIR OF FEET IN THE WORLD.
and finally...
Books That Were Apparently Written by Me!
I must have written this around 2003, when I was sure I'd picked the best stage name ever. Then I realized I'd have two first names, and that's just stupid. It seems, however, that in addition to auditioning for The Crow 4 and modelling wedding dresses on a Utah morning show, I wrote a book. So I'm 1 for 3.
Too bad about that Crow 4 thing, though. I thought I really nailed that audition.
So I've seen my share of weird/random ads on my Facebook page, over there in my sidebar. (I'm looking at you, Meet Other Black Singles In Your Area!)
This tops them all. Hawaii sounds lovely this time of year...
IF YOU WANT TO GO WITH AN EVIL AVATAR.
Seriously, why is this goblin man (woman?) supposed to make me want to go to ANYWHERE? I suspect it has something to do with my D&D proclivities but how...? Hawaii? I....
I took pictures because it seemed like a total fluke. Until it showed up again.
And again.
Go away Avatard. I still don't want to hang out with you on Goblin Island.
I'm no stranger to a good snarky rant about all things sugary, religious, heartwarming, and just below the lacy surface completely and totally sexist bullshit. It's no secret that my homeland of Salt Lake City is not the world's leading champion of gender equality. At best it's a modern Jane Austen novel, trying to make the best match with the most handsome return missionary before we're old maids.
Speaking of Jane Austen, do yourself a favor and NEVER WATCH THIS.
At worst, you're seeing the 2011 version of this:
Nowhere is this more palpably obvious than in the touching (nauseating) poem I first saw framed on a friend's wall many years ago. It wasn't the first time I've seen it, and unfortunately, many more little girls are going to be decorating their rooms with this (and those marvelous Mormonads!) for generations to come.
Meet My Three White Dresses! The rallying cry to be all that you can be! To know that you as a girl are unique, dynamic, able to do anything you want with your life!
Just kidding. It's about getting married and having babies.
My mom bought me a white dress, Not red or pink or blue. She said it was a special dress Like very other few.
There has been just one before, A dress now put away. That I wore sometime ago upon my blessing day. As a little baby clothed in my first white dress, My dad held me in his arms, there to name and bless. So pure and clean was I just then, With time to grow and learn About the Father's plan for me. My glory I must earn.
Now I've reached the age to judge the wrong road from the right, And I am here to be baptized in this dress of white. So once again I'm free from sin, The path is clear to me. I'll grasp the road and hold on tight, I vow with certainty.
Just as mud would stain my dress, Sin would stain my soul. The key is to repent or bleach, For whiteness is my goal.
And if I try my very best, Then richly blessed I'll be, Wearing inside God's holy house White dress number three.
So today I make this pledge: I'll strive to choose the right, Through this sacred baptism ordinance In my second dress of white.
Am I opposed to marriage? No. Do I hate children? No. Well, only when they make that horrible screaming sound while I'm trying to concentrate on something important like buying things I don't need at Target or have the sheer bad luck of being dragged by their idiot parents to the movie theatre to see such family classics as Your Highness. or Jurassic Park. No, not joking. I witnessed both of these events, and I'm sure they took some interesting information to Kindergarten with them the next day.
Three important milestones in a woman's life? Sure. I can't help but notice there's no picture of a college graduation cap in this sort of artwork. I don't see a white lab coat, or doctor's scrubs, or a military dress uniform, or even a sports uniform. Feminine, sweet, dresses. All white. White symbolizes purity, but it's also blank. Every woman has three. White. Blank. Dresses. None of these "accomplishments" involve a brain, or a set of skills, or a personal goal or individual, all about you dream. Because if you don't have these three dresses in your metaphorical closet, you've missed something. None of these celebrate an obstacle you've overcome, an opponent you faced down, a mountain you climbed. They represent you doing exactly the same things as every other good little girl at the exact right moments. Born + baptized + married = your legacy.
What if one of those dresses isn't in the closet? Does that make you...less? Again, I am a huge fan of marriage when people are truly in love and when the time is right. Go marriage, as I always say! (I don't actually say that.) Marriage doesn't mean you can't do any other career-minded thing you as a woman want to do. And most men (hopefully) aren't going to steal your shoes the minute you cross the threshold and lock you in the kitchen. There are as many fantastic gents in this world as there are dames. I have the privilege of attending three weddings this summer and they're each and every one a fantastic, mad, marvelous idea. But what if, by Three White Dresses logic, what if you're not ready to get married, or if you've never met the right man...does that mean, as the song suggests, you didn't "try really hard" enough to get married?
But why address these issues? Here, whilst I take a few minutes to stretch my legs, burn some bras, and stomp around in mannish shoes bossing people around until they turn gay, take a look at some of the people on the other side of the issue. THREE WHITE DRESS FANS, ASSEMBLE!
I live in Hollywood. I act. I love all things Jane Austen. I live in the most beautiful and profound gutter in the world. It teaches me things about myself every day.
And I am mistaken for or compared to Winona Ryder at least once a week. I am not. I am the Unwinona.
