bit.ly/1Ju1HNK

I have half-written two different kinds of posts about the past 3 1/2 days in Providence for Necronomicon 2015 (happy 125th birthday, Howie, you sad, racist/sexist/xenophobic, complicated fucking hassle), and I don’t know whether to hit “publish” on one or the other or both? Because I have a whole bunch of cute little hand-written notes in my notebook about, like, the chandeliers in the rooms where the lectures were given, and the funny jokes, and the silly whatevers, and my outfit for the Ball, and how quickly my phone now auto-corrects to “eldritch.” But also, the whole thing started off on a semi-shitty note with one of the speakers at the Opening Ceremonies saying something that was slightly-under-the-radar racist/sexist/xenophobic, and then that bringing all the rest of the under-the-radar-ish – but absolutely, vastly fucking pervasive – racist/sexist/xenophobic things about the whole thing to the super-bright spotlight. And then this other fucking stupid shitty frankly scary thing happened while I was there (and I keep wanting to downplay it to be either hardcore or because, you know, nothing HAPPENED and it’s not a big DEAL and blah blah BLAH, but I literally went and HID in a public place and was texting updates about my whereabouts to a friend for the rest of the night in case I DIED, so), which obviously colored my perceptions of everything else. And then the response to the Opening Ceremony grossness wasn’t good, and somehow it very much felt like THAT thing wasn’t-good in the same way that the other thing wasn’t-good, or that they both grew out of the same place or reasoning or whatever. And then the Hugos made me sad, and I’ve been reading about THAT now, and that’s right after talking about the Howies stuff this weekend and hearing the stupid-at-best, blatantly-awful-at-worst things some of these people (who kind of look like you and are into the thing that you are into and who you maybe identified with and who definitely OTHER people will identify you with because you’re all at the same fucking conference celebrating the same fucking dead old racist writer) had to say about all THAT. And I’m very riled up about all of this and it’s very bothersome personally and I think it’s important, too, but also I want to talk about my goddamn DRESS and I want to tell the funny JOKES and I also want to be an unfazable BADASS and also I don’t want shitty things to happen and also I don’t want to have to put bitter angry things on my blog, but also I don’t want to NOT put it on my blog because somehow then I’m letting someone get away with stuff or something, but with WHAT? RACISM? Like I’m FIXING RACISM by bitching about some douchebag sci-fi editor that no one has ever fucking heard of on a blog that 12 people read? I could just text each of you this exact same story, if you’d like.

Also, Providence fucking SUCKS in general, and somehow I also blame all of this on Providence itself. Here’s a joke I wrote this weekend: How many Providences does it take to change a light bulb? NONE BECAUSE BURN THAT FUCKING SHIT HOLE TO THE GROUND. Here’s another one though: Why did Providence I DON’T CARE FUCK THAT FUCKING TOWN FUCK IT. Providence keeps all their goddamn food trucks parked right in front of this pretty little park where like 50 homeless people live. Who fucking goes and gets organic food truck pulled-pork tacos and then goes and sits down in this fucking park for a nice picnic in front of all of the homeless people? Who DOES that? You know who does that? People who live in Providence, because they are the WORST.

UGH. I mean I definitely probably shouldn’t hit “publish” on this one, either. But if I don’t, I will “cool down” or whatever and NEVER do it, and probably never publish ANYTHING about this weekend, or I will but it will ONLY be jokes and my dress and I will pretend I was never annoyed by any of it and I kind of don’t want to do that, either.

Someday I will be dead, though, at least.

VACATION!

The end!

PUBLISH!!

You know what ELSE I forgot that I hate about Providence?

Yes, those ugly fucking sculptures on the side of a car park, right; but ALSO? You know what ELSE??

The fact that when you’re waiting to cross the street, cars will, like, stop for you, so you can cross. Even if you’re genuinely super-seriously just WAITING VERY PATIENTLY for an actual LIGHT, and there are a whole bunch of other cars behind them, so they’re holding up the traffic for NO GODDAMN REASON. Or if the street is super duper empty and you’re just waiting for THEM! Why would they do that! Just GO! You’re making this worse for EVERYONE, yo! Because I of course can’t trust that every single car is going to do it, so I HAVE to wait, and I HAVE to wait long enough to make SURE, and if you hadn’t slowed down and stopped and waved me on, then you’d already be GONE and I would be on the OTHER FUCKING SIDE OF THE STREET, already! And that way, I also wouldn’t have had to, like, smile and wave thanks and half-jog across so that it looks like I’m super-nice and am trying to hurry for you, in return for your largess. Because I HATE YOUR LARGESS. FUCK YOUR LARGESS! Stop screwing with the traffic laws! There is a reason I am supposed to wait! Just…it’s fine! Just go! SRSLY!!

Also, how is this place known for their restaurants? Why do people think that? That’s DUMB. The restaurants in this shitty, waterfire-infested city fucking SUCK. (Except for, I guess, Geoff’s [and I am LITERALLY guessing at that: I have not gone there again so far on this trip, and I probably won't] and, hopefully-still, Farmstead. I haven’t been there yet, either, but it’s the only one I give a shit about trying to go to. I went to Meeting Street yesterday, and it wasn’t as good as I remembered. It was just the best available at the time, apparently.)

Whenever anybody asks, I always say that Providence has really nice spooky haunted-looking architecture and other people who I generally trust really like it a lot and there’s a big art scene and a big music scene (I don’t say: “‘big,’ not ‘good,’” but that’s what I mean), and it’s a fine place to visit for a weekend, but that I kind of hated it. I’m going to stop saying that from now on. It’s not a fine place to visit. It’s a shithole through and through. And while it might be true that I “kind of hated it” while I lived here, I have become much firmer in my opinions on the matter in my advanced age.

The architecture is still actually really good, though. And I’m definitely keeping my shit crossed for Farmstead. DO NOT FUCK ME ON THIS, FARMSTEAD.

Ugh.

We’ll fucking see.

Goddamnit, Providence.

UPDATE, 8/22/15: Fucking this fucking shit hole town, seriously.

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So, uh, update to my plea for advice re: edritchiness? First of all, I’d like to point out that if I only have one friend who randomly insists that I’m pretty on the internet, then I NEED BETTER FRIENDS. But also…sigh. So my amazing (and ONLY) ballgown no longer fits me. (The only other human being who happened to be in my apartment at the time I first found this fact out was informed, via furious shouts, that it was his fault, and also that he was an asshole. And when he offered to help me with the zipper, he was further informed that I was not SO fat that I was totally unable to reach my own zipper, UGH. Then we ordered lots and lots of Mexican food delivery.  I would like to make it known that I STILL STAND BY ALL OF THIS, DAMNIT.)

So anywho, plan B:

I have a very nice (and very flattering, FOR FATTIES) little black (non-ball-gown-style) dress that I could wear! I like it and it’s very pretty and I’M FINE, OKAY? EVERYTHING IS FINE. So but the theme of the “eldritch ball” at the NecronomiCon, which is the slightly-embarrassing thing I’m going to in Providence this weekend, for Lovecraft’s 125th birthday, is “Beyond the Mountains of Madness.” I’m willing to interpret this very very loosely, though Shena had a fantaaaaaaaastic idea that didn’t need to: Tuxedo! (Because of blind, stupid, six-foot-tall penguins!!) Which was BRILLIANT, obviously, but…despite how much I LOVE the fact that Shena thought I might just, like, HAVE a tuxedo on hand…I do not. (I SHOULD GET ONE.)

Anywho. Instead…tentacle petticoat! Or, as it turned into, eventually: tentacle bustle! Because somehow having them only in the back is, like, prettier? I dunno. Anywho…as far as this goes, here’s me being helpful for google:

I googled “how to sew tentacles” earlier today, and remembered how effin’ great the internet is, because the internet TOLD ME. So, in the interest of continuing that awesome tradition, here is how I sewed my particular tentacles, for my Cthulu petticoat:

    Supplies:
  • yard or so of tentacle top-color (greenish)
  • 1/2 yard or so of tentacle bottom-color (yellowish)
  • enough elastic to go around your waist, I guess?
  • pile of suction cups from the dollar store (various sizes, as suits your desire for realism)
  • beer (I recommend Lagunitas Little Sumpin’ Sumpin’ Ale)
    • Instructions:

    Cut out 8 or so iterations of the two layers of the different colors of fabric, one much wider than the other, in like a tentacle-y shape. Sew that shit together, turn inside out. Stuff very very lightly, so it doesn’t get too heavy to wear. (I used wadded paper towels, and also didn’t stuff tightly, and also didn’t go past like the 1/3 point or so.) You could probably use actual batting or stuffing or whatever. I just didn’t want it to get too draggy, but there’s presumably some okay fix for that? It’s just that I have roughly one evening to do this shit, so…I’m not all that interested in finding out what it is.

    Also, it would be great if they curled, right!?  But…that’s a thing for people who have TWO days to work on it.  I tried sewing elastic into one seam, very very tightly, but it just sort of puckered and looked…like a fancy dress technique, less than a curl, sort of?  Wire would probably be great.  Also just cutting the fabric into a curl shape would have been fine; they wouldn’t have actually CURLED at that point, but the tentacle itself would have been curly, or whatever that means?  Anyway…I did none of those things.  I might end up taking a stitch or two into the far ends of the tentacles and then lifting them up and sewing the end of the long piece of string back onto the skirt of my dress, so they’re sort of invisibly (hopefully!) floating up in a curled shape?  We’ll see how ambitious I am at the time.  Because, yeah, I am NOT finishing these tonight.  I made about two of them, aaaaand uh that’s pretty much all I got in me for now.  And also I didn’t take ANY fucking photos of it, so…this was a super-good how-to, yeah?!  I’ve got 8 unstuffed tentacles sewn. I’ll be hand-sewing the suckers on during the bus ride to Providence. I’ll buy a roll of paper towels once I get there, to stuff them. Safety-pin them to my elastic belt at the last minute. And, uh…that’s me, having made a super-hot costume, I guess?? I suppose the proof of that will come in roughly like 42 hours or something? We shall seeeeeee!

    So.

    Um.

    Thanks to this person for the suction-cup idea, which is FANTASTIC, and this person for a super-fucking-hot-looking thing which mine will not look like (and for ENVIABLE and MYSTERIOUS curls!!), and this person for, whatever, making me think a baby can do it (that baby sewed that, right?), and this person (starting about 5/8ths of the way down) for size/thickness/drape suggestions, and for being the NERDIEST.

    My version will be blogged about in another few days!  I will, uh, maybe take some photos along the way this time.  Or maybe not.  It’s…not actually a super-hard pattern.  We’ll see.

    advice?

    What does one wear to an eldritch ball? This, probably, right? But anybody got any suggestions for good…you know…tentacle-y hair accessories or such? (Asking for a friend.)

    um

    Um, what’s that, Bar Bathroom Graffiti? (As in…are you fucking drunk, Bar Bathroom Graffiti???)

    Oh em gee it’s the ULTIMATE SHOWDOWN EVERYONE HAS BEEN WAITING FOR:

    Jessica v Chris v Corey v Corey in: BLOWN AWAAAYAY [Featuring Jason, who is a Very Bad Judge of Winners]!!

    So as you all obviously already know, based on your rampant fandom of the ABIAT “Chris Hasn’t Seen Movies” series, in each episode of Chris Hasn’t Seen Movies, we show Chris a classic movie that everyone in the whole world has already seen, a la Goodfellas or Jurassic Park or Jaws, or um, The Craft. Him and somebody else who has also never seen it both have to guess what it’s about, and make predictions about it, and then watch it and say funny things, and then I declare a winner, who is almost always Chris, because he tends to be the one who does not fall asleep. Well! Today we decided to watch the well-known classic movie that everyone in the whole world has already seen, Blown Away, which, as you know, is a sex thriller starring Corey Haim as a guy who rides a white horse through a wildflower-covered field (a whole bunch of times), Corey Feldman as Michael Jackson, and Not-Alicia-Silverstone as Alicia Silverstone.

    And as an extra-special treat, this time, the worm has turned (or something), and Chris’s enemy in battle was…JESSICA!! (NOTE TO SELF: Remember to put that in blinking glittery neon-pink font before you publish this post.  You are such a good writer!)

    Hi CHSM fans, Chris here. Normally I strenuously object to the devolution of this series. I still haven’t seen Titanic! Scarface! Schindler’s List! The Breakfast Club! Basically I have never seen the most beloved films of our times, and Jessica pushes marginalia like this to the top? But I cannot object to this selection. Here is an actual e-mail exchange:

    FROM: Jessica
    TO: Chris
    Will you download Blown Away when you get back from New Jersey?

    FROM: Chris
    TO: Jessica
    I am on the bus right now and I have a  DVD copy of Blown Away in my bag.

    THIS IS COMPLETELY TRUE.

    [EDITOR'S NOTE: Seriously!  This is completely true!!]

    I was visiting my brother, who was moving and offered me any of his old DVDs that I might want. The only thing that jumped out at me was an oddly complete collection of Corey Haim/Corey Feldman films, which I packed in a sandwich bag. Perhaps at this exact moment, Jessica was watching one of those Everything is Terrible compilations in Brooklyn, and was struck by the clip of Corey Haim being disgusted by “Wes’s amazing penis” and then we were both struck by lightning and it was a body swap comedy starring Corey and Corey as the two of us. Not really, but what a weird coincidence right?

    [EDITOR'S NOTE: Not THIS clip, though!

    There's a WHOLE OTHER CLIP OF THAT LINE coming up later! In the meantime, though...Blown Away!!]

    Jason:
    So, what do the two of you know about this movie?

    Jessica:
    Both of the Coreys are in it. Corey Feldman, who I think is the skinny boyish one, talks about someone’s penis loudly. And I think it’s, like, a precursor of that movie with the guy in it who was the brother of the rapper?

    Chris:
    Mark Wahlberg!

    Jessica:
    Yes, Mark Wahlberg! And where he’s, like, stalking some teenage girl, and he does this thing at one point where he beats his chest or something? I think this movie is in that genre. Like, teenage lady stalker sex drama, like Poison Ivy and The Crush. And I think that someone will hide in a closet and watch someone else take off their clothes. And there will be at least one scene at a carnival. And he will ride a motorcycle. And somebody will look over their sunglasses like this [DOES A VERY GOOD IMPRESSION OF SOMEBODY FROM AN 80s MOVIE LOOKING OVER THEIR SUNGLASSES], while also chewing gum.

    Chris:
    I don’t think Corey Feldman is in this. Corey Haim is definitely in it, and he’s the boyish younger-looking one. And he says, like, “Oh, Sam’s big dick,” or something like that. I could give you a full rundown of Rock N Roll High School Forever.

    Jessica:
    CHRIS PLAY THE GAME SERIOUS!

    Chris:
    I bet a car will blow up. There will be some awkward cinematic sex scenes. I guess that Hector Elizondo is in it? I don’t really know anything about this movie. It’s probably not going to be very good?

    Jessica:
    I think it will be very good!

    Chris:
    I think it takes place in Seattle.

    Jessica:
    I think it takes place in one of the lesser California cities. Not LA or San Francisco, but like…San-Something-Else.

    Chris:
    I think someone is in a drug cartel. I think this movie will be rated R.

    Jessica:
    This is totally their foray into adult movies! I think we’ll see boobs, but without the actress’s face in the same shot, because maybe they’re not actually really her boobs.

    Chris:
    Fuck! I lose already! Corey Feldman is second-billed!

    Jessica:
    Oh, but Haim is totally but the boyish-looking one. This is a still a draw. It’s still anybody’s game.

    [MOVIE: A mom drives a car...]

    Jessica:
    Oh! Oh! She’s dead! I predict she’s dead! And maybe the dad killed her! But she’s definitely dead! Or – not YET, but SOON!

    Chris:
    The girl tries to convince Corey Haim that the dad killed the mom. Maybe she’s crazy. But she killed her mom and now she’s going to convince the boy that the dad did it.

    Jessica:
    That was actually a marginally realistic car explosion for a movie…until it very coincidentally happened to drive uncontrollably straight into a gas station.

    Jason:
    What are your predictions for this house party?

    Jessica:
    I think there will be beer there.

    Chris:
    I think it’s going to be a pajama-jam.

    Jessica:
    I predict she’s gonna bone him. Oh my god I predict he’s going to wear a shirt with little airplane buttons on it!

    Chris:
    I was going to predict that those were the bad guys, but then I realized that they’re the protagonists.

    Jessica:
    Oh my god 80s swimsuits are super-weird.

    Chris:
    Maybe he needs to show his dick to get in. Wait, did that actually happen!? We need to rewind this… He had to show his dick to get in! He did!

    Jessica:
    It’s a bit Scorsese, this scene.

    Chris:
    It’s a bit Birdman. Look, the set-dressers didn’t actually bother to put anything on the bookshelves upstairs!

    Jessica:
    They’re not big readers in her family.

    Chris:
    Oh, what’s this upstairs? Not much, just the girl he’s been looking to fuck!

    Jessica:
    Did he just abandon Corey Feldman down there??

    Chris:
    Corey Feldman just wants to dance! I saw some nipple…now I definitely saw nipple. There’s a painting of what appears to be an ice-cream sandwich on the wall. It’s not really an ice cream sandwich, but it looks like it.

    Jessica:
    I want to make another prediction! I predict that she was secretly filming that and will use it against him! Wait, what year is this? Is that a thing yet?

    Chris:
    She killed her mom, though, right? We can all agree on that at this point?

    Jessica:
    I predict he is Spider Man. [EDITOR'S NOTE: I do not remember saying that; I'm just trusting the stenographer's record at this point.] This is the best movie. I predict that this is the best movie.

    Jason:
    Will either of the Coreys die?

    Jessica:
    The friend will, yes. His car will fall off a cliff.

    Chris:
    I want you to pay attention to this room at the top of the spiral staircase…because it is just COVERED with shag carpeting.

    [MOVIE: There is some sex!]

    Jessica:
    Why…did that scene happen?

    Chris:
    There seems to be a lot of kissing scenes where both of them are playing goalie, in the tonsil-hockey game. You can see how wet their faces are afterward.

    Jessica:
    They’re way too far apart when they’re doing it. I don’t believe his dick is that big.

    Chris:
    How many times is he just going to bite her knees in this movie?

    Jason:
    Do either of them fuck anyone ELSE before the end of the movie?

    Chris:
    I think Corey Feldman might. But he probably dies as a result. But they’re bros! Corey Haim isn’t gonna do a movie where he gets sex scenes but his bro doesn’t!

    Chris:
    “…Because I’ve gone blind.” Okay, I do want to try out a brief theory here. People other than Corey Haim have talked to Corey Feldman during this movie, right? He’s not just Corey Haim’s id?

    [The honest answers to those two questions are: "No, no one else has talked to Corey Feldman," and "I mean, probably not, right??"]

    Jason:
    Do either Corey Feldman or Corey Haim get to do it with the brunette?

    Chris:
    Corey Haim did it with the brunette previously.

    Jessica:
    She might also get murdered by Not-Alicia-Silverstone. She might get murdered, but I don’t think she does it with anybody.

    Chris:
    These are some of the nerdiest bikers I’ve ever seen. They’re actively playing video games! “I gotta beat my score in Centipede, you guys!”

    Chris:
    Can I make another bold prediction here? One or both of the Coreys was involved in the production of this song.

    Jessica:
    I mean, I understand that in real life, Alicia Silverstone might be like four years old at this time, but that lady is definitely shamelessly copying Alicia Silverstone, right?

    Chris:
    See! That was the nerdiest biker!!!

    [MOVIE: More sexy sex happens. Not-Alicia-Silverstone's dad sort of catches them.]

    Chris:
    Why don’t they just fuck at his place?

    Jessica:
    I predict that she totally already fucked her dad. Oh, it’s an all-denim fight scene!

    Chris:
    Oh, man, classic Hank Pym move. Spider Man did it once, too. The hero is fighting some guy, and his wife tries to stop him and he backhands his wife and he’s like, “Oh no!” Man, she’s totally going to have a black eye, too, now. Do you think she’s, like, a robot? Or was that an Ex Machina spoiler?

    [MOVIE: She DOES get a black eye! They all three have TERRIBLE matching black-eye make-up suddenly, and it also all immediately heals and disappears within like 6 hours.]

    Chris:
    Wait, when did her car get stolen? What?

    Jason:
    So will we see more boobs or no more boobs?

    Jessica:
    No way, no more boobs. We’re not seeing HER boobs.

    Chris:
    Maybe we’ll see a new girl’s boobs. Just riding a horse topless.

    Jessica:
    They ride a LOT of horses. I don’t get the horses.

    [MOVIE: Corey Haim stumbles across the dead body of one of their friends in the least plausible manner possible.]

    Jessica:
    Wait, what? I mean…also, why did he even see that horse?

    Chris:
    Also, lots of things! Also, what is Corey Feldman doing there?

    Jessica:
    Whoa, has his ponytail holder matched his shirt this whole time? Also, why does he keep wearing that thing on his chest!

    [MOVIE: Not-Alicia-Silverstone attempts suicide, or...something?]

    Chris:
    What were those pills, though? Were those just laxatives or something? So…she’s definitely the mastermind behind everything at this point, right? But…how does that work?

    Jessica:
    She was just lucky?

    Chris:
    Lucky she couldn’t stop poopin’.

    Jessica:
    Ugh, her nails are so ugly.

    Chris:
    Yes. They look like press-ons. Also, hold on…we know her mother died of a bomb, right?

    Jessica:
    And then somebody just whispers to you: “Let’s put a bomb on my dad’s motorcycle…”

    Chris:
    But I mean where would he even GET a bomb? Wait, what if they both have bombs in them! Wait, what if he put a bomb on the other bike, to kill Corey Haim?

    Jessica:
    The director is super-proud of those motorcycle-mounted cameras, though.

    Chris:
    I don’t get any of this. Okay, but that was a pretty long series of fireballs there, and he still landed more or less intact. I mean, he flew clear of the bike and off the cliff? Oh…well, his helmet looks okay. Or…is that blood? I think that’s blood from the previous take, though. OH! He’s got his nuts!! How did he get flung off from that explosion, but he’s fine??

    [EDITOR'S NOTE: I'm a little bit worried that you're going to think this clip is too long, and it's true that there are like two or three PERFECT moments at which I might have stopped it sooner, but please believe me when I say it's not too long. It is JUST. RIGHT.]

    Chris:
    This guy is worthy of Columbo. What is that weird coffee sculpture in the background??

    Jessica:
    That is unnecessarily confusing. That’s just the set designer continuing to do a terrible job.

    Chris:
    How much more of this movie do you think there is?

    Jessica:
    I’d be surprised if Corey Feldman doesn’t die, though, right? I mean, he has to warn him…

    Chris:
    I told you we’d see boobs again! Oh, and Corey Haim butt!

    Jessica:
    There is a LOT of Corey Haim butt in this movie.

    Jason:
    What if I win this game?

    Jessica:
    I don’t think that the referee is allowed to declare himself the winner. Ah, he’s totally chewing gum! That counts! I predicted that!

    Chris:
    And Wes’s amazing penis!

    Jessica:
    Wait! Corey Feldman actually believes that Corey Haim did kill the dad!

    Chris:
    But: bros!! And he’s…mad that he didn’t also kill THEIR dad?

    Jessica:
    “My butt.”

    Chris:
    She’s like, “Detective, I think I can fuck a confession out of him.”

    Jessica:
    I mean, no, but there’s a bomb in there, right?

    Chris:
    It’s the perfect crime! Her mom died in a car explosion, her dad died in a motorcycle explosion, of COURSE her boyfriend commits suicide via car explosion. No one will ever suspect a thing! They’ll pull out her yearbook and it’s like, “Interests: Cheerleading, Glee Club, Car Bombs.”

    Jessica:
    Why didn’t he see the bomb earlier, when he checked in that exact same spot before, except during daylight?

    Jason:
    Okay, guys, it’s climax time! What’s going to happen!

    Chris:
    She’s going to confess to killing the mother, and then Fat Columbo comes in and shoots her right when she’s about to kill Corey Haim!

    Jessica:
    He’s going to go confront her, and their tongues are going to be gross, and he’s going to push her off a cliff or out a window or off a balcony or something.

    Chris:
    Actually, he’s going to reconcile with Corey Feldman, and Corey Feldman is going to catch her trying to kill Corey Haim!

    Jessica:
    That sure is a big fucking gun to be carrying around in that tiny purse. But I guess that’s good. Anti-sexism, you know.

    [MOVIE: WHAT!!! Turns out the bad guy was Corey Feldman ALL ALONG!! No one predicted this!!! Corey Feldman and Not-Alicia-Silverstone are totally doing SEX.]

    Chris:
    I told you Corey Feldman would get to have some in this movie!

    Jessica:
    Sweaty!

    [MOVIE: Corey Feldman totally gets SHOT!!]

    Jessica:
    What! So many twists, you guys!!! …And there’s that duck again.

    Jessica:
    Is this sexist? How many times they’re shooting her, in loving slow-motion?

    Chris:
    They are definitely shooting her more times than strictly necessary.

    Jessica:
    Oh my god there were so many twists in this movie.

    Chris:
    Yeah, and he’s still…BLOWN AWAY by her!!

    Jessica:
    This was such a hard one! Jason, who won!?

    Jason:
    Are there actual criteria, or is it just whatever I say?

    Jessica:
    That second one.

    Jason:
    Jason won.

    [EDITOR'S NOTE: Well. FINE. Still, though. I agree, Not-Alicia-Silverstone.]

    P.S. –

    Tags:

    RECENT CONVERSATIONS I HAVE HAD WITH MY CATS:

    “Digby, I have the sneezes! Did you give them to me? Can you take them away? How fat is your belly? How many toes do you have? Why are you ignoring me?”

    “Erwin. Erwin. Erwin. Erwin’s a boy. Hi, Erwin.”

    “Erwin! Erwin, quit that! Hey! Erwin’s the very worst boy. Erwin!”

    “Who’s belly is this? This is Erwin’s belly. I’ve seen it before. I can tell.”

    “Oh my god please stop doing that or I’m going to murder you. I’m not going to murder you, but please stop.”

    “Can I have that back, please?”

    SUNG: “Erwin, Erwin. He’s a cat. Erwin, Erwin. That is that. Erwin, fat. Erwin, cat. That’s a song. Bong, bong, bong.”

    “No, please, thank you. That’s gross.”

    “ERWIN!! VERY BAD!”

    “Belly-belly-belly-belly-bellyyyyyyyy.”

    “Hey, do you want a pill? It’s pill-time! Yay, pill! Mmm, yummy. Boop! Like that. What a good girl. Good girls take lots of pills. No, Erwin doesn’t get any pills. Only fat ladies get pills. No, go away!”

    “Who’s belly is this!?”

    “This is Erwin. He lives at my house. I’ve met him before. He’s the very naughtiest. He’s got a butt. He’s got a butt. Yesssssss. Here’s his butt. He’s – OW, HEY!”

    “I don’t think you want this. See?” [Cat eats Utz-brand crab-flavored potato chip.] “Oh.”

    “Digby. Digby, why are you so fat? Hey, Digby. Digby. Hey.”

    “Hey. Erwin. Erwin. Hey.”

    “Hey.”

    “Belly.”

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    Oh, hai. Remember Digby? She’s the fat good one, with the fatness? She’s hilarious and super photogenic? Her eyes are big stupid cashmere teddy bears stuffed with starlight? She’s, like, more my MUSE than Erwin is (though he’s the one who always comes and hangs out with me in the bathroom while I pee, so please don’t take this as favoritism or anything; they’re both special little guys in their own way). Anyway: Digby. You remember her.

    Well that cunt has motherfucking HYPERTHYROIDISM. And you know what? Being the kind of person who says things like: “Ahh, sorry, I really have to hurry home. I have to give my cat a pill once every twelve goddamn hours,” is, you know, not great. But the thing that’s worse? That thing is how it’s taken like four months (So far!  And NOT DONE YET!) to try to figure out the correct dosage for her of these stupid pills, and how the once-monthly blood tests that she has to get to check on this dosage cost A HUNDRED AND FIFTY GODDAMN DOLLARS EACH, and how that also doesn’t include the charge for that one day when she puked 30 times during the day and you thought she was dying so you scheduled an emergency Sunday appointment and it cost you a TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS for the vet to say: “Well, she doesn’t have anything stuck under her tongue. Do you have any lilies in the house? She’s probably okay, but WHY DON’T I GO AHEAD AND GIVE HER ANOTHER FUCKING BLOOD TEST JUST TO CHECK, GODDAMNIT.”*

    I have spent more on Digby’s medical care in the past four months than I have on my own medical care in the past four years. (Thanks, Obama!!!)**

    Anyway, remember Digby? SHE FUCKING SUCKS SOMETIMES. But she’s also still running one of the best book clubs in Brooklyn, tho.

    The Complete Stories of Truman Capote
    Ughghgghghhh MAN, Digby would like to discuss these with someone!!  Because she thinks they were GREAT, frankly!  But she also thinks that for the most part, they were really really really skillful copies of things that Capote knew were also popular at the time?  Oh, man, she thinks maybe this book is actually worth its whole own separate blog post, really.  Because, like…this book is the very epitome of unrealized potential.  This motherfucker wrote ONE SINGLE BOOK which Digby thinks was an original idea and not just a fame- and/or money-grabbing ploy, and that is certainly her FAVORITE of his books, and man, she sure does wish he’d written MORE things that weren’t just him trying to sell, like, Carson McCullers stories or J. D. Salinger or…I don’t even know…someone else?  Blag.  I am bad at making this argument.  (I mean DIGBY is.)  But…they all sound like…someone else?

    Anyway, Digby liked this book a lot and she would like to talk to you about it if you have also read it K THNX.

    The Color Master, Aimee Bender
    Okay, Digby didn’t actually read this one yet.  She let someone else read it immediately after she checked it out.  But people she trusts have recommended it to her and she likes Karen Russell and Kelly Link and apparently it’s, um…well I mean it appears to be pretty huggable?  So, uh.

    TOO MANY BOOKS TO SIT ON!!!  Also these should be their own separate post, too, actually.  I recently bought three different collections chosen/edited by (“by?”  I would LOVE to know how involved Alfred Hitchcock actually was in these) Alfred Hitchcock, and it turns out I (Digby) fucking LOVE THEM.  Omg they’re so fucking good for reasons I won’t bother with right now but it’s INTERESTING and it’s NEW [to me] and it’s I don’t know whatever but also Digby is so fat that I didn’t even realize she was sitting on TWO OF THEM AT ONCE for like the first 8 or 10 photos I took so.

    Maaaan. Look how annoyed she is when I bother her during her book club time to try to photograph her. Poor Banana.

    PS – Yes fine sometimes I will set a trap and it doesn’t work I DON’T CARE YOU GUYS I ADMIT IT.  (Also, this dude teaches at the school where I just got accepted to start taking classes and I’m trying to decide between his class and two other prof’s classes next semester.  Is this my answer???  Is Digby my Magic 8 Ball???)  (Okay, no, she’s not, but also, if there’s space available and I can get in, I am technically leaning toward a different class, anyway.  But I liked this book very much!  So, you know, thanks and good job to the author who I am too scared to name-check, because I don’t want him to ever find me if I am his student, and I know how many people read my blog closely for these sorts of things, especially publishers and academics and things so you know.)

    (You can see her pill bottle there on the shelf!)

    PPS Hyperthyroidism in cats causes peeing in places like your broom’s upright dustpan; on the recycling bag full of old newspapers and cardboard that you had out in the living room because you were cleaning; and on both of my pairs of New Best Jeans That Make My Butt Look Actually Pretty Fucking Good, Thanks. So…in other words: my recent Target purchases have told a kind of saaaaaaaad story of late. Being single is full of peril. You might totally choke to death one night on bread when Chris is out, or you might look sort of silly maybe in front of a 19 year old check-out person at Target. LIFE IS HARD.

    * “Also, I notice she hasn’t been updated on her rabies shots in a while.  Do you just want to go ahead and do that now, too?”

    ** Not sarcastic, though.

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    I think I thought that Conjure Wife was going to be a silly fun old-fashioned-y sexist romp, or even possibly a secretly-feminist bit of proto-whatever, like, along the lines of Rosemary’s Baby or The Stepford Wives. I definitely had in my head that it was somehow some kind of CLASSIC (…in its tiny sub-genre, and, like, probably only assuming that tiny sub-genre includes a hefty dose of camp).

    Anyway, uh…I was wrong, yo.

    It wasn’t secretly-feminist, and it wasn’t fun-sexist. It was just banal and sincere and mean about it. Of COURSE women are drawn to witchcraft, because of how they’re so irrational and illogical and bad at THINKING about things. And, anyway, even if witchcraft really worked, that’s only because, like, when you think about it, witchcraft is actually a lot like physics, except for how physics is better, because men do it. And women don’t want men to know that witchcraft exists, because they’d be better at it than women are and they’d take it over. (And that is, indeed, proven to be the case – once this husband finds out about magic, he applies MATHEMATICAL LOGIC to it, and totally PWNS all the other witches and does it way better than all the women, who have been doing it for, you know, ever.) Also, this conversation, when the narrator is in public shaking and yelling at his wife, and a crowd of men steps in to intervene:

    One of the men holding him retorted, “Nobody’s got a right to treat a lady that way.”
    The other slackened his grip and asked Norman, “How about it? Did you have a reason for doing that?”
    “I did. But it’s my business.”
    Grumbling, the two men let him go.

    WELP! THAT’S THAT, THEN!

    And MAN, was this guy the original mansplainer! He suuuurrrrrrre does take a 20-page break in the action, while they’re riding a train for a couple of days, to give his powerful witch of a wife a loooooooong diseration on how witchcraft fucking works.

    Also, I don’t know if I’ve ever read the word “neurotic” more times in 200 pages. I genuinely kind of love books from the 1930s and 40s and 50s that don’t QUITE trust psychiatrists, but where the author or narrator or whoever is willing to tell us that THIS ONE is actually pretty reasonable, or that THIS PARTICULAR THEORY really does make sense, so you can trust it, because I’VE thought about it quite a bit, and reasoned that shit OUT. This should be a genre, too, actually. King example of this genre is Wicked Angel. Do people out there have other examples of these books? I want them, please!

    Again, though: some really good covers. The one I own is the one up there, but I am suuuuper jelz of the version of it that’s the cut-out!!

    Also:

    That bottom-right modern-looking one I only even included because of the line there at the bottom: “The classic of urban fantasy.” What does that mean! I would have thought that “urban fantasy” was something very very different than “feuding white male academics at a small New England college and their euchre-playing social-ladder-climbing wives.”

    (Also though it’s also kind of super duper good. Chapter 14, man. It’s worth the first thirteen chapters, is all I’m saying, is all. Also the description that something was “the coloration of physical injury.” That was nice.)

    Anyway, that’s all, ho hum boopeydoop. Witchezzzz!!

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    364.452s

    Today, at the library, I was looking for this one particular non-fiction book about a murder written by this one dude who I knew through some other means that I don’t remember now but who was compared to Mary Roach who I really like, and yadda yadda yadda, and it was a weirdly BUSY little aisle of the library, and as you may or may not be aware, EVERY SINGLE PERSON at the Brooklyn Public Library is crazy and scary, and then I became aware that I was literally standing in the “true crime” aisle, and I was BLOCKED IN ON BOTH SIDES of the aisle.

    And then I looked up.

    And made eye contact with ANOTHER person across the shelf, like, through the books, who had totally already been staring at me.

    And then I died and that is why I am a ghost right now the end love Jessica.

    Also, I was looking for short story collections of like those British drawing room murder mysteries or locked-room mysteries or whatever they’re called? And I finally thought I had found a couple that actually were collections of lots of different authors, like I was looking for – one was called Murder Intercontinental and another was called Murder Most British – and I was very carefully copying down the call numbers for them, and it was only after I was halfway through writing down the second one that I realized I was just writing: “FIC MURDER” twice.

    Anyway then I died again and that is why I am a double ghost the end BYYEEEEEEE!!

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