Tag Archives: PSA.

I Love The 90s.

Nickelodeon has finally agreed to start showing blocks of 90s programming sure to set a generation to glee once it starts to air.

You can see the promo for it here on spoilertv.com. I’m very excited personally. I mean, Salute Your Shorts was my thing on Nick when I was younger. Right up there with Hey Dude and Hey Arnold and Keenan and Kel and All That and the original Are You Afraid Of The Dark? and Pete and Pete.

There are so many shows, and they all remind me of a slightly less complicated time (though to be fair, not that less complicated). I’ve already warned everyone in our home to expect some serious DVRing on Monday nights when it starts.

As it is, I’ll keep myself occupied with Ren and Stimpy and Rocko’s Modern Life on NickToons at 3am. I know that it may seem strange, but really, this is no where near weird for me.


The Dragon*Con Cometh.

Holy. Crikey. Batman.

Go. Go HERE and tell me it isn’t a thing of beauty. Look at those guests! Look at those stars! Freaking Mark Sheppard! Freaking Tom Felton! Freaking Doc Hammer! So many fandoms, so little time!!

(no, I do not feel bad for abusing the exclamation point for this post. I mean every fucking one of those beauts!)

This list is even more epic than last years, and that’s saying crazy things. I’m so freaking excited!!! You have no idea. Okay, so maybe you have some idea since I have gone a little… exuberant with my points, but still.

These people are the stars of my day dreams and of my favorite shows. They are creators; they are the music makers. They are the dreamers of the dreams.

I can’t explain to you everything that it means to me that I will be in buildings with them. For the multiple times, with some of them. My mind spins with it.

Some other day I might be posting pictures of my costume in progress. I’m in so much love and happiness right now:

  • Dragon*Con list keeps getting awesomer
  • cosplay is in the cards
  • HPDH is out in the next week!
  • I have three days off this week instead of two
  • I’ve had people complimenting me on my handcrafted jewelry

This has been a good week, even if I did cry at work the other day. (It was a very bad, horrible, no good, fuck off kind of day, and I was pmsing. I can’t stand mood swings.)

Survival Was Key.

Here we are, the day after the fourth, and we’re all still here.  The day was great, the food was delicious, the fireworks were everywhere, and friends and family played and frolicked with the household and the animals.

We ended up starting the fireworks an hour before dark, and were still lighting them until around ten o’clock (and that’s with three guys constantly setting them off). We were all kinds of careful to begin with. We had a person on standby with a water hose in case something went horribly, horribly wrong. We approached every ignited firework with caution, even if we were convinced that they had been spent.

As the night wore on, the guys became less careful, even though we ended up with a few young ones running around. Luckily, our young’ns were much better behaved than a few down the street who were lighting fountains and holding them in their hands. If you don’t know the difference in fireworks, the following is a fountain:

They are not designed to be held when ignited. They are most definitely supposed to be left on the ground or at the very least a very stable surface. With any firework, you can’t really know that they will fire correctly, and if something goes wrong, it can be really, really, horrible hospital trip bad. No one wants that.

Our little bits (meaning under the age of 16) didn’t attempt to light anything, made requests and understood that we meant it if we had to say ‘no’, and verified anything they were asked to hand to someone who was responsible for lighting. The youngest was only about seven, and was very happy to just sit in the back of the truck surrounded by us older guys while we organized whatever was lit up next.

A few of the neighbors even came out to watch ours and the others going off around the neighborhood. The community show wasn’t too far from us, so we were able to enjoy parts of that show, as well as someone setting off shells privately on the other side of us from the community show. (A shell is the firework that most people think of, the one fired into the air with the really big bang and lots of sparkles.)

All in all, I’d say it was a really pleasant Independence Day, even if I couldn’t find an excuse to sneak in an “America! Fuck yeah!” Yeah, I know, I don’t think I should be allowed to watch movies either…

Open Mouth; Cover With Tissue.

For whatever reason, I’m sick again. I’ve already had three colds/sinus infections this year, and I’m going through it yet again for some unknown reason. (I’ve decided the gods hate me.)

It wouldn’t be so bad except that I work in a profession that requires massive amounts of talking and relaying information, often over the phone, which means every cough and sneeze and attempt to breathe has to be stifled very, very quietly. And of course, I’m also having problems sleeping, because I can’t breathe through the night.

Husband has been sweet and keeps bringing me juice and soft tissues and medicine from behind the counter at the pharmacy (my favorite, because it actually works*). But then he wants to cuddle, and I feel a cross between disgusting and frustrated all the time. I’m trying to keep my spirits up, but I’m not sure how it is working out.

Thankfully, my illness hasn’t affected my performance at work too much. I even got praise from several supervisors today, which is always welcome. I did feel the need to apologize for today not going as smoothly as it could have. It wasn’t my fault, though, so I just sucked it up and walked out the door.

I always feel so stupid when I’m sick, because I always want to apologize for everything. It is ridiculous. I also can get strangely giggly, and occasionally quite bitchy. Unfortunately, that isn’t necessarily a strong change from normal, so I’m not certain how much people see it. And generally if I’m working, I do my best to not come off that way, since everyone seems to see me as a somewhat responsible adult.


The medicine I refer to is over the counter, it is just behind the counter because it has pseudoephedrine, which is regulated by law. It is Sudafed 12 Hour, and it is saving my life. Seriously, if you are having problems with sinus congestion due to cold, I highly recommend it.

10 Reasons Why My Favorite Superhero Is Awesomer Than Yours.

10. He’s pretty fly for a white guy.

09. Split personality disorder is pretty exciting stuff.

08. Smarts and training are more reliable than random mutations and brawn.

07. He’s a rich mo’fo.

06. His cave is bigger than his house!

05. Who else has a freaking replica of a tyrannosaurus rex?

04. He’s a loner who manages to have a family. That’s a pretty sweet set up.

03. He’s an inspiration to most, and a nightmare to everyone else.

02. His foster father is just as BAMF as he is, even though his foster father is a freaking British servant.

01. He’s freaking Batman, of course he’s awesomer than everyone else.

It Brings On Many Changes.

I’ve heard it said (many times) that suicide is selfish. That it is a permanent solution to temporary problems. Every time I hear that, I just want to say, “fuck you.”

Unless you have been suicidal, you have no room in that house. And if you have been suicidal, and you say that, I say unto you, “That’s great, and I’mma let you have your opinion, but fuck you, too.” How you feel about your own thoughts, impulses, and issues is your own life, and you don’t have the right to tell anyone that how they feel is wrong for them.

I’m not saying you can’t have an opinion. I’m an American who actually does believe in free speech, even for ass-hats (and I’m including myself in that ass-modiste’s shop at this very moment). But the fact of the matter is that your opinion is just that; your opinion.

By no means am I saying that you should ignore someone in pain. If you worry for someone, of if someone comes to you, do listen, do talk, do something. That person deserves to know that someone loves them, that the loss of them would be painful to this world. Make them understand that they are useful and needed in some way, that it can get better.

(That’s the point of the It Gets Better Project.)

My grandparent, a former counselor, told me that when someone is suicidal, the best thing you can do is give them project after project, assignment after assignment. My grandparent managed to coax dozens of people through their immediate pain and allow them the time to heal through this technique. I employed it on myself to the best of my abilities for quite a while before I finally had my brake down in college.

But the fact of the matter is that sometimes, a person is going to make the decision to leave this life. It is horrible, and painful, and often feels unjustified to those left behind. The anger and resentment can linger, torturing the good memories we have of that person. But in the end, it is not our decision to make for that person. It effects us, but we can’t control those thing that make a difference in our lives.

While many people can work through the issues that make them suicidal, not everyone can. And sometimes those issues are impossibilities to overcome. Terminal patients should have the right to have their lives end with dignity and respect to their own wishes. And frankly, depression can be just as debilitating. And I don’t think it is your place or my place to make that decision for them, regardless of how much we may want them to be with us.


I started writing this at work one night. I don’t even know why the topic came to my mind except that I’ve been suicidal several times, and I feel like I’m constantly evaluating where I stand on the subject. I’m not ever going to say that I’m a hundred percent one way or the other forever. I believe in constant change and just because I feel this way today doesn’t mean that I will feel that way forever.

Also, I don’t want to anyone to feel like just because I don’t agree with them that I don’t respect their thoughts and feelings. I’m a huge believer in honesty and integrity and being true to one’s own self, regardless of the circumstances or disagreements that may arise.

Share Cher.

Yesterday, I came to work, gathered my materials, and set forth to take part in my shift meeting. One of the topics that came up during the day’s meeting was pronunciation of certain celebrity names, as we as a company don’t wish to make complete asses of ourselves because a determined to ruin everything group can’t seem to do their jobs and say names correctly.

Our supervisor comes around to one name that I know no one can screw up. Cher. She of the Cher Hair. She of the overdone impression. Every drag queen has a Cher impersonation hiding in the wood work, just hoping to have a chance to jump out and shine. The woman is a freaking Idol.

Cher in Burlesque
Cher in Burlesque. With consummate soft lighting.

I mean, yes, she has had more work done than a restored 67 Impala off the Supernatural set, but she’s amazing to this day! Her performances of Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves still make me cry. Mermaids offers an incredibly touching view of the difficulties of an emotionally remote woman to relate to the world around her, including her children. Burlesque, while being the type of movie that usually would be nails to my chalkboard, was actually palatable because it was Cher! And Stanley Tucci, but Cher!

Anyhoo, the reason I point all of this out is that my supervisor felt the need to explain to the mostly 50-pluses I work with and myself that Cher’s name was pronounced “share.” Which, in addition to just being wrongwrongwrong, confused the hell out of me.

“____,” I asked. “Why are you explaining Cher’s name. It’s Cher.”

“I’ve never heard of her, really,” ____ explained.

“But…Cher!?!” I responded, bewildered, perplexed. How does this person of thirty some-odd years not know Cher?

The answer? ____ had seen Mask, but apparently has missed the concerts, music videos, reruns of the Sonny and Cher Comedy Hour, the new reality program starring Chaz (Sonny and Cher’s son), the guest spots, and the recent movie starring the Great One with Stanley Tucci and Christina Aguilera. What. The. Fuck. Adoodle. Seriously?

The entire thing confused me so greatly I started listing off Cher accomplishments until the glare I received from ____quelled me silly. Then, three of the older gentlemen (should I mention they are straight, I feel like it is important to mention these were straight men) began questioning ____ apparently lack of Cher education.

We got so far off topic that I didn’t even point out that ____ was telling us to pronounce her name incorrectly. (Not that any of us needed the instruction, because we actually knew who she was.)

This all comes down to me begging of you. If you don’t know who Cher is, and you are over ten, please, educated yourself. No one else can do it for you. I’m begging you. If not for yourself, think of the children! Is a world without Cher really one you want to live in?

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