Dessert Hot Dogs

I tried to publish this on Another Social Media Platform, but it was so long that it just got throttled. Which is a bummer. I miss writing longform, I miss journaling. Anyway, here's what I posted. I'm just writing this for me, really, but if you enjoyed it, let me know. Maybe I'll try to keep this up.
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Hi Facebook, I know you just banhammered me, but I'm gonna write in you like you're a LiveJournal post anyway. Today Kit and Avi came over to visit! This is a Big Deal, because not only does no one EVER come to my house, but people also NEVER come all the way from the CITY to the SUBURBS just to HANG OUT. It simply ISN'T DONE. But they did, and it made me feel really special!

We spent the afternoon goofing around and talking about nonsense, like how "good" Snowpiercer is (it isn't), and how terrible Mortal Engines will be (it will be) and how difficult it is to watch horror movies here in 2018 (and also Poultrygeist was not very good.) Then I drew some pictures of french fries. Can you name all the french fries? Would you like to rate them? The french fries, not the pictures of french fries. We did. Everyone agrees that curly fries are the best.

Then we got hungry, and after introducing them to the idea of a "s'mores cone" that I remembered from someone's feed, Avi decided he was interested in Dessert Hotdogs. Then we spent a very long time googling dessert hotdogs and Avi spent some time spiral cutting hotdogs and putting them in s'mores cones. We judged him, very hard. (But we also supported his decision, as friends do.) It was almost like the old days, before Google had an answer to everything! We enjoyed a version of the internet that google often fails to let exist anymore - the weird internet. We learned how to puff rice (with a small cannon!) and that desk potatoes have websites. We also learned that we missed the death of StumbleUpon by a mere four days, and we were very said about that.

Friends! Real live human FRIENDS! In my HOUSE! Eating dessert hotdogs and reading #mattfraction comics and yelling about shitty movies with me!

A post shared by M'ris (@stiricide) on Jul 4, 2018 at 8:25pm PDT

At some point, Kit mentioned that she wished she had brought a comic book. Then she asked if I might maybe have a comic book for her to read. Readers, can you even believe what sort of monsters I had invited in to MY home? To think that they thought that I had a home! WITHOUT COMIC BOOKS! Luckily, Kit and I are still friends. She read Sex Criminals and The Beauty and enjoyed one more than the other, but you should guess which one.

Eventually we decided not to go to Narberth for fireworks, because being on a field in Narberth to find out whether or not it was going to thunderstorm on us seemed like a bad time. So we didn't watch anything blow up, except for those rice cannons, but that's ok. We also watched the fireworks on TV, and lip synched along with some Cher songs behind Avi's back (literally) and watched the fireflies in my yard. The fireflies always put on a very good show. We could also hear ALL the fireworks around my house, and it sounded like a goddamn war zone.

Which reminds me: I hope all your doggos are ok, dissent is patriotic and Black Lives Matter. Happy 4th

The Greatest Rape Joke Ever Told

No, really.

No, ok, look. I know there's been a lot of talk about rape, and rape jokes, and certain comic who (point of personal preference) has never actually been funny, this week. And all the rest of it. And then Jezebel, of all places, actually published a really great article that sums up the issues around rape, and jokes, and rape jokes, really well. If you haven't read it, go do that. I'll wait. (If you're lazy, the Cliff Notes: Yes, you can joke about rape, because most anything, in the right light, can be funny. It is extraordinarily difficult to joke about rape when you are making rape survivors the butt of the joke. Victim-blaming? In this situation, probably actually never funny. Moving on.)

Which brings us to: This past weekend, when my friend S accidentally spit out what might be the greatest rape joke I've ever heard.

WE BRIEFLY INTERRUPT HIS BLOG POST FOR SCIENCE TO HAPPEN:
Walking up the street to a bar that is hosting a rather hipster-centric dance night, S and Q and I notice a construction crew on the street we need to cross. They're resurfacing the crosswalk, laying down new crosswalk "paint" - actually strips of white asphalt-like substance that are more wear-resistant than paint. They do this by scrubbing/airblasting the old crosswalk off, then cleaning the space with a flammable cleanser, which they burn off with FLAMETHROWERS. These FLAMETHROWERS are single barreled, duel-nosed contraptions that send off an incredible burst of flame that flares out in a K-shape, with comically perfect flames, about 30 inches in whatever direction it's being pointed. Somehow, the flames always manage to extinguish just short of the operator's toes. This heats the street asphalt and gives the crosswalk asphalt something to adhere to. They lay the strips of crosswalk asphalt down, then go over them with the same flamethrower to melt the asphalts together. Another worker follows behind the flamethrower operator, spreading glass beads over the new surface. These give a tiny bit of traction to the crosswalk, as well as making it more reflective to drivers.

RESUME SITUATIONAL COMEDY:
While this is all happening, the flames are spewing from the dueling flamethrowers (two dudes wielding a flamthrower each), a handful of hipsters, S + I included, are staring, fascinated, by SCIENCE happening. The construction crew, in neon yellow construction vests, glances up once or twice (especially at S and I, as we're standing on the same side of the street that they're working on, not 4 feet from their workspace) and glares. Clearly, giggling twenty-somethings are not the usual sort of nuisance they run in to while on these projects.

As I'm slackjawed at SCIENCE, two of the older, more bearded members of the crew look up at me staring like I've never seen a flamethrower before - and in turn, look at me like I'm some sort of fantastic buffoon, S turns to me and states, very matter of factly: "Well, if they didn't want anyone staring at them, they shouldn't be dressed like that."

And then I lose it and die laughing. Because THAT, universe, is what a funny rape joke looks like. You're not trivializing the victim. Heck, S didn't even need to say "rape." But by taking a well known trope of rape prevention/avoidance (even though, as most women know, how you dress has very little to do with whether or not you will be raped), and flipping it around at at a bunch of fully clothed burly men WIELDING FLAMETHROWERS (who are, in fact, attracting attention by wearing neon yellow clothes. Also, FLAMETHROWERS), you reach that glorious intersection of the Benign Violation Theory where humor takes place.

No one is hurt. No one is threatened. And we all got to see some really cool flamethrowers.

Comedians of the world, take note.

About A Dog

My friend's dog passed away unexpectedly last night. He was bitten by another dog in the neighborhood, infection set in, and he passed.

I am basically a wreck.

Smokey belonged to my teammates, Baconshark and Tits McGee. Baconshark had brought Smokey home back in 2007, with the money he'd won at that year's RPS championship. I wasn't in the picture at that point, but Smokey was clearly the Victory Dog.

The next year, I tripped into the arms of a rowdy gang of jackasses more affectionately known as David Bowie's Package. After on-purposely getting drunk and accidentally winning the 2008 championship, Baconshark kindly drove me back to his house in Jersey, where I met Smokey. As I laid down on the sofa to pass out, PJ laid my giant check up against the seat, and I curled up. Hours later, I awoke to a large, skinny, furry blanket draped over me - Smokey was unwilling to share his sofa, and was sleeping on top of me like an adorable blanket. There's a picture of this, somewhere. I wish I could find it.

That was the beginning, they say, of a beautiful friendship. I moved out to Colorado shortly after the season ended, and only really got to see Smokes a few times a year. He was never, of course, my dog, but in my head, he was always the team's dog, the unsung, most adorable member of The Package. Trips to Jersey almost inevitably would end up with me at the Williams-Mercer Zoo, adults ("adults") in the kitchen/dining room doing adult things (talking/yelling about loud music), while Smokes and I would curl up on the floor and make googly eyes at each other. Maybe I just made the googly eyes. He just wondered where this extra human came from, and why there were so many snuggles.

I would badger Karen for stories about her adventures with the pup, jealous that I never got to spend as much time with either of them as I ever wanted to. And she'd humor me, telling me about the songs she would make up for him while they were taking walks together, or mundane things around the neighborhood that made him skittish. I'd sit around and wonder how so much dog could fit into such a tiny frame. (Seriously, where does the dog go on greyhounds??) And Smokey would grin, and writhe around on his back, and get loved on. Because this dog loved his people, and all the people loved this dog.

And so I'm sitting here at 4am, still crying, after sobbing on Jon for an hour after I heard, for this pup that I only tangentially knew, and for his people, who loved him so much. For Kevin and Karen, who are now down a best friend, and for their little one, who will never get to meet his big furry brother.

There are things I want to tell you about Smokes, about his giant, kind eyes, and his adorable greyhound grin, and his endless patience for the humans (me. Others.) who insisted on his post-racing career as a pillow. But instead, I'll tell you this: David Bowie's Package rules. And so do you, Smokey. <3.

Friends

Prompt #16 – Friendship How has a friend changed you or your perspective on the world this year? Was this change gradual, or a sudden burst? (Author: Martha Mihalick)

If you give me half a chance, I will wax on and on about how amazing my friends are. I never doubt it to be true, but sometimes, even I'm surprised at how fantastic they really are.

Y'see, I'm a skeptic. I've been burned enough times in the past that I don't really believe that anyone is truly what they appear to be. Sometimes it's because they're lying to themselves, sometimes it's because they choose not to see the truth about other people. Sometimes it's other things.

It makes me hesitate to reach out, and loath to trust anyone on more than a surface level. What if they see what's on the inside, and they don't like it? Worse, what if they twist and turn those inny bits around, and use them against me? It's happened before, which means that a precedent has been set for it to happen again.

Getting over that mental hump is always the hardest for me.

And it shouldn't be. My success rate on these things far outweighs my failures - it's just that the catastrophes weigh heavier on my mind than any of good things ever do.

That was a lot of preamble to say that, for the most part, my friends this year have surprised me in spades. The girls out here in Boulder, particularly, have been shoulders to cry on, arms to hug, even couches to sleep on when all the things inside me were just to raw to spend the night alone. (And then we got a sweet 7 hour musical performance from their neighbors. AWESOME.)

They have seen me at my lowest, and picked me back up, and called me and supported me and done all the things that friends are supposed to do. Lovingly. Selflessly. Patiently.

They're making me see, making me believe, slowly, that I'm capable of and worthy of love and support and affection, even when I'm stuck so far up in my head that I can't even fathom a way back to reality.

And with their help, I'm working on being better. If they can see it, if they can see my potential and my worth, then I have to believe that it's real, that it's really there. I want to believe in those things, so badly, but it's a forest for the trees sort've thing. But with their help, I'm getting there.

(Of course, this isn't to say that any of my other friends weren't equally spectacular this year. Sitting in front of this screen and commending everyone I hold dear to me would take far longer both to write and to read than anyone has any patience for.)

Maybe it's not a seismic life shift, or a radical realization. But knowing that I'm loved, enough to love myself? For me, I can't think of anything bigger.

You've Only Got 5 Minutes to Save the World

Prompt 15 – 5 Minutes Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2010 in five minutes. Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about 2010. (Author: Patti Digh)

Birthday bowling
Birthday Scavenger hunt
Peter and Matt H. getting stuck in the spaceship
Birthday scavhunt aftermath at Matt H.'s place (Drink more! I drank all the tequila, I CAN'T drink more! How are you not drunk!)
Ostrich/sea lion impressions w/ Pete.
Frozen Dead Guy Days
Study parties at Joanna's place in Boulder
Meeting Marcel
Meeting Joanna's CostCo problem
Metal shows with Dave, picking back up right where we left off
Fighting, poorly, with Austin
HoverRound ads with Dad
Wegman's with BJ
RPS season
RPS Championships
DAVID BOWIE'S FREEBIRD
B-Pac's house tournament, synching up commentary by accident
Oscar Robot's first encounter with cake
Waterworld w/ Joanna, Peter, Quinn, Matt E.
Matt E. charades dancing @ Batacombs, laughing so hard I hurt.
Korea - lotus pools, karaoke with my cousins, mahkoli, subways, stealing small asian children, introducing mom to body scrubs
Chasing down the mugger after Dave's show w/ Chris. Arby's afterwards.
Hiking Sanitas at night with Matt
Rockies game w/ Matt
Anxiety attacks with Matt, all the good that really did actually come out of them.
Fourth of July, NYC.
Freaking out in the middle of the pizza place, surrounded by friends
Austin B breaking glasses for his going away party
Nights with Rob + Pete + Brice @ Batacombs/Downer

And Atlas.
Chris D. making penguin lattes.
Hiding in the kitchen because I was laughing so hard.
Making an afterhours lounge on the street after their 1st birthday party
Feeling like I had a home.

I know I'm missing things.

Community

Prompt #7 – Community. Where have you discovered community, online or otherwise, in 2010? What community would you like to join, create or more deeply connect with in 2011? (Author: Cali Harris)

I was going to start this with a sob story. Back in 2008, moved across the country, no friends, waaaaahhhhh.

I mean, yes, that's what what happened, then, but that was 2 years ago, and that's not where I am now.

It's also time for me to own up to a salacious yet true part of my Boulder history: The only, only reason I have friends in this town is because of the internet. Specifically, OKCupid.

:shameface, dies, etc:

Against all the odds of the internet, I met someone on OKC who turned out to be one of my best friends here in town. Then I co-opted all of his friends. And then some of their friends, just to be safe.

(Speaking of the internet, I sort've totally love that I know that my very first friend from the internet is following this blog. Hi, Andy!)

I didn't really build a community, so much as I crash landed on the shores of a pre-existing one, and pillaged it for all it was worth.

This year was about testing the boundaries of that community - discovering whether or not it was a safe space for all the scary things that live up inside my head, that I'm embarrassed to show to the world. And, y'know what? It was ok. My friends here have been so good to me, so supportive of everything I've been going through (and that I've been putting myself through) that I almost can't believe it. I'm so grateful for them, for loving me the way I am, insecurities and proclivities and all.

Though it's currently in flux, I also may have stumbled on to a community in the most unlikely of places - Twitter. Next year, I'd like to work on turning the Boulder Twitterati into real people, and to fold at least a few of them into the community I've already built.

This post is also slightly bittersweet. In the last few months, I thought I'd become a part of a community at one of the local establishments here in town, but recent events have caused a bit of shakeup there. I don't know if I'm welcome there anymore, or how to reshape the relationships with the people there. I miss what we had, but I don't know how to move forward.

Three distinct groups that I am so excited about having in my life (well, 2.5 - let's face it, Boulder Twitterati overlaps with everthing), and I'm still not satisfied. I still want more. It's probably the nerdy girl from middle school in me who still just wants to be liked, but I'm still looking to branch out, to meet more people.

I want to get involved with the kids in this town - I'd love to work with one of the local synagogues on starting/running a youth group (NFTY still burns bright in me, no matter how many old boxes of photographs I unearth), or work with an after school program or something. I've thought about getting trained for the suicide prevention helpline, but those wounds might still be too raw to address through action.

I'd love to start putting on events again - art shows, basement shows, whatever - or at least get more involved in the community of people who are doing these things. I think about what is missing from my life out here, and y'know what? It's West Philly. It's crust punks (not transients, thanks) and sweaty basement shows and running in to people that I never see during the day, only with a brown bag of Yuengling in a venue that won't exist in a week. (I also miss Yuengling.) I left that scene just as I was starting to feel like a part of it, and I miss it.

And, as always, I want to keep up my bonds with my old communities. I always swear I'll do better, but somehow it always falls to the wayside. This is just a reminder to keep trying.