Everything I Ever Needed To Know I Learned From Buffy

After nearly 10 years of higher education and well over $100,000.00 in student loans it suddenly occurred to me. What a waste! EVERYTHING I EVER NEEDED TO KNOW I LEARNED FROM BUFFY.

For starters,
“Seize the moment. Cause’ tomorrow you might be dead.”

“What is your childhood trauma?” is the most direct way to attempt to understand a person’s psyche.

Even if you’re like, 400 years old a naughty school-girl outfit can knock off MORE than a few years.
*note to self: buy naughty school-girl outfit. Wear it.

Don’t hangout in cemeteries. What possible good thing could ever come from that?

First dates should be scheduled during daylight hours…in direct sunlight. Second dates should be scheduled during a full moon.

Right or wrong, a symbol matters more than the thing it has come to represent. Meaning, I’m over the whole Jesus debate. Who cares as long as his symbol can keep things from killing me?

Punch first. Ask questions later.

We should attempt to work out a more appropriate retribution/restitution plan for the Native Americans our forefathers brutalized when settling this here “land of the free.” It’d be in everyone’s best interest. Really.

You were right. High school was a really weird experience.

Red heads CAN be sexy…if you give them a corset and leather pants.

Stay away from frat guys.

Eve did NOT bite the apple. There was no apple. And probably no Eve. So “those guys” can stop using that as an excuse as to why women are weak and cannot be trusted to properly handle temptation, and should therefore not be put in positions of leadership and power. It’s official. You made it up. Put that in your goofy hat and bullet-proof golf cart and smoke it!

Faith isn’t ALWAYS a great thing to have. In fact, in can result in death/near-death.

Other people’s sisters seem to be…unnatural occurrences too.

“Angel” isn’t really THAT gay of a name.

F***ing the wrong person can steal your soul and make you do some REALLY f***ed up things. Avoid it if you can.

I want a leather trench coat. PETA can suck it.

If you need to get a seriously difficult/important job done (i.e. saving the world), assign it to a woman. Men are “watchers.”

There is at least one lezzie in every Scooby gang. Right Velma?

If you need time to think, take off your classes and clean them. It’ll come to you.

Don’t pick on the nerd in high school. They’ll probably end up being way cooler than you’ll ever be, and even if they’re not cooler they might end up with the means to destroy you with the flick of their wrist.
*note to self: Damn it! Why wasn’t this series out when I was in high school?!

You were right. Your freshman year college roommate was NOT normal.

Other people’s moms are cooler than mine.

Other people’s moms are WAAAAAY worse than mine.

Don’t take candy from strangers.

Now this we all already knew but, College = let’s find out if I’m a lezzie.

Never buy a home without at least one spare bedroom. You might get a whole lot of house guests at once and you’ll want to be prepared. Otherwise things can get a little tense.

Pirate patches don’t work for everyone.

Everyone should really stop kissing Southern California’s ass. It’s not really that great/safe of a place to be…and not just because of earth quakes and LiLo still having her driver’s license.

Hair dye and/or an English accent can turn a dork into a sexy, bad-ass mo-fo.
*note to self: Get hair dye and/or an English accent.
*note to self: Call Brita.

People who play with dolls are crazy.

One extremely pissed off lezzie with exceptional intelligence can cause a lot—like A LOT of damage.
*note to self: Do what Fannie says. Don’t ask questions. Further; protect her girlfriend at all cost.

Don’t invite strangers into your home. Make sure you pass that on to all of your family members.

Men can get kinda chubby and still be considered cute and adorable and charming and all that stuff. Women are supposed to get skinnier as time goes on.
Note to self: That sucks.

You were right. Your high school principal WAS evil.

Your mom doesn’t get it. That’s ok.

Don’t drink too much. It could make you act…stupid.

If a dead guy starts asking you to do him favors, don’t. I’m guessing he has some sort of ulterior motive.

And most importantly…watch out for the pretty, innocent looking blonde. She’ll kill you.

Well, that’s about it. Quite honestly, I can’t think of anything else I’d need to get by. Wish I knew that $100,000.00 ago!

Things I love #2, The People Edition

Tisk, tisk people. What did I say? If you’re to send me messages calling me soulless, etc you should do it via blog comment. I already did “things I love #1” a few days ago. Did that count for nothing? But ok, maybe my crankiness came on a bit strong. I’ve been a bit stressed lately, but honestly I say and do a lot of things that just aren’t good…or maybe more specifically, NOT “smiled upon” and I wanted to just be more upfront about it. No apologies, but a zone for me to say things I think and feel. So I would like to submit my next post on things I love and be a little more specific this time. So, you can stop calling me names and psychoanalyzing me. I have a soul…it just happened to come with one complementary dirty east-coast mouth and one over analytical, over educated brain, and since I called within ten minutes I got a free career that deals with hearing and seeing REALLY shitty things happen to perfectly innocent people. That package deal can equal some pretty fucked up results…mostly turning me into an asshole. So…dear friends who’ve said some really weird and or mean shit to me this past week, Presenting: Things I love #2, The People Edition.

I love my siblings because we share parents and that means that we will one day (for better or worse) understand each other in a way that no one else will.

I love Jenny because she cried when I moved from Philly to Chicago and gave me my favorite shirt of hers, she stood in the receiving line at my grandmother’s funeral, and she knew to shut up and decorate the Christmas tree when my mother demanded she do so (who just seconds prior had threatened to beat up Jenny’s mom…weird story).

I love Dana because she knew me before Chicago…when people thought I was cool…and when she moved out here and watched me get progressively less cool, she loved me just as much as she ever did. She still does.

I love J-Mo because no matter what I say or do I’m right, and which ever person I’m telling him about me having a beef with is wrong. Samples of J-Mo’s work include: “FUCK THAT BITCH! SHE’S FUCKING DEAD TO YOU!!” & “Sorry officer. I didn’t even know that girl. I just gave her a ride.” And how could I forget, “Dude! Did you just f*** her in the back of my Explorer?! YES! You just upped the resale!!” Those are just of few of maybe 300 times that no matter what I did, to J-Mo I was right.

I love Matt and Bun because when they married I was in their bridal party…but wait—there’s more! Matt is my ex-boyfriend. Bun is the girl he dated after me (they married like 8 years after we broke up so this isn’t as weird as it sounds). The thing is; Matt is like family to me. We’ve known each other for over half of our lives. Our families know each other. He’s one of my best friends and this was going to be one of the biggest days of his life. We’ve been with each other through thick and thin…in fact when he and Bun broke up for a brief period he and I spent many hours concocting a plan to get her back…it worked. And Bun. I ADORE her. She’s like a fucking blonde Snow White who still thinks fart jokes are funny. She’s perfect and they belong together. And she gets “me and Matt”. And one day she called me and asked me to be one of her bridesmaids. I think it was her, “Don’t worry; he’s still going to be one of your best friends…even when he’s my husband.” She was right. *note…writing that kinda made me tear up*

I love Anne S. because despite having a really weird and awkward introduction and factors that would make most women really dislike or dismiss me, she ended up judging for herself and is now one of my best friends. Also, she has pretty much the finest ass in this hemisphere. Also she holds me accountable…again, without judging me. And her eyes are pretty.

I love M.S.G. because no matter what stupid idea I have she backs me. Doctor, lawyer, Indian chief…if I say I want to do it, she says I can. She’s seen me be a COMPLETE FUCKING ASSHOLE, told me I was being a COMPELTE FUCKING ASSHOLE and then would do something like take me to a movie or ask me to breakfast. She was the 1st person in Chicago that I let hear any of my music and when it was over she said, “I LOVE it dude, really!” And then a bunch of other stuff…and she meant it. I could tell by the way she said it. Also she’s a dego-wop. What’s not to love?

I love Annie Fegs because she drove all the way up here in the freezing weather just to bring me my favorite candy because I had a broken heart. That ain’t all, but it’s very representative of who she is and how she treats me.

I love Myers because she’s the devil on my shoulder and probably my biggest cheerleader…but only in things that involve malice intent…and everyone needs one of those! AND…she’d do anything for me. I know it.

I love Fannie and LES because they treated me like family…which gladly involved me letting them hog the couch while I brought them drinks. I’d do it again in a second. Also, they were confident enough in their intellect to admit to loving and respecting someone who goes by the name of Buffy.

I love Anna W. because she was some sort of salvation to me. A reminder that I might be worth loving and that someone might still be worth being loved. And she’s a super-good drinker with a great shoe and bag collection.

I love Amy G. because she may have been my sanest, while it lasted. Not sane as in that SHE was sane. Or that I was sane. But that IT was sane, because it was the most truthful I’d ever been with myself. And in that time she was evidence that I’d made it. That I wasn’t my past and that if nothing else I knew that there was at least one thing on this planet that I knew how to do organically. I knew how to 100% whole-heartedly love a person 100% of the time no matter what else was going on in my life. No matter where I’d been and no matter where I was going. It probably seems simple for a lot of you. Not for me. At least now I know it’s possible.

I love Nicole because she said I had to say I love her and I've been letting her boss me around for over half my life...why stop here?


Now, what are the commonalities between all of these people? #1 They all know that I may just be one of the most imperfect people they have ever met. And #2 I love them all so deeply that it makes my gut hurt. None of this negates my assholeness, and remember I’m not claiming that every one of these people loves me in return…but I’m not sure that’s really the point.

*note* there are others. I’ll get them next time.

The Godfather III and Cousin-F***ing

So, I’ve performed my daily duties.
I’ve researched the crap out of the topic of my next paper. I went to my waxing appointment, scheduled two health related appointments, went to the gym, tidied up my house, and my pets are all walked and fed…SO, I’ve taken myself to the couch now, remote in one hand, book in the other (I have the attention span of a five year old, so I read during commercials instead of waiting 180 seconds for my show to come back on.).

Anyway, I am pleased to find that there are about thirty minutes left in the Godfather II and that III is to follow. Despite the fact that I own all three on DVDs and have seen them each about 50+ times, I am still very excited and feeling blessed (even when you own movies it’s way cooler to watch them when they come on TV…it’s almost like God is catering to you.). I open a bottle of wine and start soaking in my glorified Sicilian roots. Half way through my bottle (it’s how I measure time, i.e. “Yes your Honor, I am TOTALLY sure. It happened at about ¾ of the way into my pinot, which means it was precisely 8:13pm.”) everything was going very well…until about 2 glasses of pinot into part III. For those of you who know the movie it’s the part where Michael is having a party for being honored by the Pope. The part where Mary (played by Sophia Coppola…badly.), who is the son of Michael, begins to flirt with Anthony and be very sexually assertive. Her cousin. Her father’s brother’s son. From this point on in the movie the relationship grows…it becomes, shall we say…intimate??? Yes, in one of the most famous trilogies of all time, one of THE most respected cinematic stories ever told, there is cousin fucking and NO ONE EVER SAYS SHIT ABOUT IT!!!

What don’t I get? I’m not trying to take anything away from the Godfathers. I LOVE them. I would talk dirty to them if I thought they’d talk back. But I must ask myself; why have I never ONCE heard ANYONE say something like, “Hey, these movies are really, really good, but what’s with the cousin-fucking?” I guess I’m almost as guilty as the next gal, having gone the greater part of my life watching these movies without asking the question myself, but better late than never. I remember being a teenager and thinking it was creepy and weird when Cher from Clueless started dating her ex-step-brother Josh, and that’s not even NEARLY as strange as this…not to mention, it’s not illegal…like 1st cousin-fucking is in most states. So I guess what I’m wondering is why the whole goddamn county has something to say about whom everyone is fucking (the gays, inter-racial couples, inter-religious couples, this afore mentioned beef that I have (http://femiftheycanttakeajoke.blogspot.com/2008/02/on-fucking-your-exs-friends-and-people.html), and yet everyone from the average joe to an artsy film critic to each and every stupid frat boy and boner athlete in college that I railed simply to be able to sneak out of their room in the wee small hours of morning with one of their cooler hoodie sweatshirts, had a Godfather poster on their wall (right next to their Scarface poster…don’t even get me started on that)…yes, ladies and gents, a tribute to cousin-fucking. I mean, do your thing and I’ll do mine but know that the next time you want to tell me about how morally depraved I am I will be sure to reference your love and support of cousin-fucking.

Things That Don't Make Me As Bad As You Thought I Was, #1

Now, due to the attacks on my character (which have been for the most part sent via text/email/phone call/IM/etc...) I have decided to start a things I love section too...you know, a little bit of evidence that I'm not as bad as you might think. To be clear, I welcome attacks on my character. Just do it via blog comment. I stand firmly behind every word I have written, and will continue to do so, BUT there are A FEW good things about me too. For example...there are some things/people I love. Oh! And also I'm pretty loyal. If I do so choose to love you I will likely severely punish someone who displeases you in some way. Now, in no way does any of this make me a "good" person...but I'm certainly not as bad as they come. So, without further ado; people/things that don't make as bad as you thought I was...

most importantly this...

and then, some other stuff...

*note* there are more things/people that I love. I just didn't A) want to squish them all into one place and B) was in a lot of the pictures with them.

Things That Scare Me #1

EEEEEK!

On fucking your ex's friends and the people who call it "wrong"

FUCK YOU. AND SHUT UP.

Now, I thought about just leaving it at that, but after not so careful consideration I think we need to go a little further.

Wrong. There seems to be a lot of throwing this word around. Cute little catch phases about doing the “right” thing. For example, they say “two wrongs don’t make a right.” I’m going to have to disagree with that. Say your ex has seriously wronged you. SO you fuck their friend…which is apparently considered “wrong” by a lot of people…maybe this makes your ex feel hurt (should they find out). Now the ex that's seriously “wronged” and feels some sort of negative feeling because you have done something that the boring, pathetic masses call “wrong” and GODDAMN, IT FEELS SO RIGHT!!! See?! Two wrongs made a right. And isn’t that what this piece of shit world needs? A little more right?! I mean, technically that would mean I did something to make this world a better place. Which I think grants me a free pass by St. Peter.

But that’s just one scenario. There are several other ones to consider. Like, not giving a shit about doing something wrong.

But I think what is most important to remember is that people who choose to judge people who sleep with their ex’s friend can kiss my ass, because no way can they even pretend to really know you and what you need. If you’d like to challenge that, I will find you, date you, dump you, and fuck your friend…and your sister.

Intro to blog

Well now, for about a year people have been telling me that I should have a blog. I’ve been asked to guest blog, contribute to a blog, host a blog (blog is an ugly word. Contact me if you know its origins). My response to this, to quote my mother, has always been “I have neither the time nor the inclination.” (Which by the way, is how she feels about parenting, working, rehab, etc…) Now, I still haven’t the time, but I’ve stumbled upon the inclination.

See, it has recently occurred to me that I have accidentally duped…well… nearly everyone (Dear Exceptions, Thank you. I love you for knowing the truth). It turns out that there are a shitload of people out there…I mean A LOT of them who think me to be good. Fine. Think what you will, your opinion of me matters very little. BUT, what does matter to me is your nagging. And your sheer looks/words of shock/sadness/etc EVERY time I disappoint you. I didn’t sign up for that and it kinda makes me feel bad, so let us begin an honest dialogue, shall we? Don’t get me wrong. I still like/love most of you, and would rather most of you still like/love me. But I think it’s time we’re all clear here. So this will be a blog about what actually goes on in my head.

I know, I know. Those of you who know me know that I am in a discipline for “good, compassionate, and nice people.” But let’s not pretend that I wouldn't do nearly ANYTHING to spite my family. Even if it means posing as a complete pussy for the rest of my life and pretending not to care about money and status. Don’t worry, “family first” folks. They hated me first. It’s actually a very comfortable place to be in. So, here we can discuss things I care about, things I don’t care about, things I know, and don’t know, and things I’ve done and not done. To throw myself a nod, I’ve done some pretty interesting things. Many of them make me a complete fucking asshole…but I say own it, baby! OWN IT!

Disclosure: I’m into politics. And I am a hypocrite. I'm a pretty big prick, but I LOVE attacking other pricks and calling them names. Stay tuned. Some of it may just be serious blogging…but don’t confuse that with smart!