Ah Bugger

The vapid utterings of a neurotic mind.

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Location: DC, United States

I ain't too proud to bug.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Prude to be an American

So, I'm in Germany. My mom lives near this spa. It's a pool that takes its water from a natural spring. It's warm and a little salty. That last fact is rather unpleasant when you just took a razor to your monkey legs in an attempt to be more presentable. Otherwise, it is awesome. Also, there is an in pool exercise class every hour. I did two of them.
My mom decided to treat us each to a massage at this spa. Glorious, right? I went first. I went into the spa area whilst my mother splashed around in the pool. I was led into a small room by a young lady. In the room was a massage table and not much else. She told me to strip to the waste. I lingered a bit, wondering would she leave? Nope. Um.
Okay, no problem. I'm not prude, right? So I whip my t-shirt off with aplomb and throw it on a stool. Didn't even fold it!
Standing there in my bra and pants, I stop. Turning to her I say bra, too? She says, yeah. Or you can just lay down and unclasp it. Okay. yeah. I'll do that. At this point it has become weird for me. Weird that I am making it a big deal and weird that she stayed to watch me strip down.
I lay down on the table and unclasp. Then I start thinking about how that looks. Bra all tangled up under me. That leads me to thinking about what she's thinking about. Is she thinking that I'm weird? Prude?
In the mess of getting my pseudo naked body onto the table, I was too far up and when I put my face into the little face hole, the bridge of my nose was smushed. I could have just slid down a bit, but things were already uncomfortable, so I just stayed there. Hurting.
The massage itself was nice. But then when she was finished, I sat up and reached right for my over the shoulder pebble holder, awkwardly, of course. She said, relax. Enjoy this heat lamp I'm gonna put on you. Heat lamp? Okay.
She leaves the room and I continue to awkwardly lay there, still too high on the table and slightly undressed. The lamp still had three minutes on it, but I bolted out of there feeling like a teenager whose dad thinks it is a cool idea for him to have his first sexual experience at a brothel.
It's not my first massage. I dunno what my problem was.
Seriously, though. So prude. I am definitely not a real German.

Thursday, August 02, 2012

The process


How are ya? I'm good. Finally worked my way through the first draft of my pilot TV comedy script. (Well, actually I think it is the 4th or 5th, but those were completely different stories, so I am calling this draft 1 because it is the first version of this story). But yay! Seriously. It's so unfunny and I have tasked several capable and hilarious writers to aid in the punch up. But step one! Woo!

I have another script to write. I'm working on a spec script of The Middle. Tomorrow is the big writing day. We'll see how it goes. Did I tell you I only have a week to get my scripts up to par for submission as my thesis?

Oh, the thesis. The dreaded thesis. I am so bored of talking about it. I'm sure everyone else is even more tired of hearing about it. But who will I be without it hanging over my head? Will I just fade into oblivion like Marty McFly when George McFly gets sucker punched and the romantic liaison with Lorraine looks to be a no-go?

I think I need a camera on me while I write. You know, like the cameras they have in the zoo. I'm like a caged animal. I set the stage for myself. Notes, laptop, reference books all bedecking my dining room table while I pace anxiously nearby. Finally, I face the keyboard. Sweat dripping down the side of my face (I'm too poor for AC), I nervously peck the keyboard.


Now what!?! I stand, taking deep breaths. Can't quit yet, so I return to my seat and continue.


Exterior what? House? Town? Pawn shop? Crap. Is that a stain on my counter? Hold on. I'm going to wipe that down really quick. Don't want it to stain. Okay, I'm back.


That's it! The Armenian Pit Grill is in everyone one of my scripts. Let's start there. It's based on Bungalow Billiards, which we gently refer to as the Bunghole. Okay, good. We have a location.

The bar is filled with frats boys, dodgeball players, and hill staffers who are looking for a, shall we say, fun person to hang out with. 

Great. Situation established! What's that kitty cat? You want to look out the window with me? Is a storm coming? Doesn't look like it. Let's check the front door. Hey, the mail is here. Maybe someone sent money.

Checking... Insurance bill. Magazine. Oh, my, she is seriously photoshopped on that cover. Ooh, a Target coupon book. Man, doesn't anyone write letters anymore? Yay! Netflix! Hey, it's the next disc in the "Dead Like Me" series. Maybe I will just watch one episode. It's well crafted. It will totally inspire my writing.

1 episode

2 episodes

3 episodes

4 episodes

Shoot. I didn't mean to watch all of those. But I guess it's best. This way I can send the disc back.

Back at my computer. Why did I think starting at the bar was a good idea.? I mean, who's there? What are they doing?



The bar is filled with frats boys, dodgeball players, and hill staffers who are looking for a, shall we say, fun person to hang out with.




Screw it. That's just going to have to work for now. 

The bar coffee shop is filled with frats boys, dodgeball players, and hill staffers who are looking for a, shall we say, fun person to hang out with.  prepping for their long day. 

What are dodgeball players doing getting coffee? Do they get coffee? My friend Jacques plays dodgeball, but he brings a little flask of fancy coffee. I mean, come on, this is DC. We are fancy people.  You know, maybe I should take a little nap. I bet I'll dream the perfect situation. 

Wednesday, August 01, 2012

My heart is breaking

Ah, being human is a treat, isn't it? We beat each other up, kill each other, or just torment one another to the point of no return. Why are we so cruel?

I was transcribing an interview with Nancy Pelosi who spoke about women needing to kick down doors and start demanding their rights. How is it possible that in 2012 women are still being paid less money for the same job as men? The fact that the women in the Senate actually voted against the Equal Pay Act is beyond mind boggling. Yet, this behavior is exactly why women aren't getting ahead. Men have a tendency to support one another in their boys club attitude, but women have been fighting for so long that it winds up being a personal battle and all other women be damned. This HAS to change. And I think it is, slowly. I think my generation, and the ones following it are getting used to women being in charge and there seems to be a shifting current in the pride women have for each other. (I hope this is not wishful thinking).

But what a joy to be a woman, eh? Men all over this country have appointed themselves guardians of our womanhood, our health? Huh? Why are men chiming in on circumstances they have no right to speak on, much less make policy on? My ex boyfriend spent an inordinate amount of time adjusting his bits, which honestly? Gross. But I did not make rules about it, because I don't have those bits. So why on earth would a man think he has any say in women's health? I think the only time a man can chime in about a woman's reproductive health is if she is pregnant with his child, or she has given him that right and she can no longer speak/act for herself. I don't want to get tangled up in the complications that arise from a pregnancy that the man wants to keep and the woman wants to end, or vice versa. 

During the whole promotion of medical rape, there were several women in office who were advocating mens health and this was met with a chuckle. Why? Why are men taken seriously when deeming themselves master of all things female, and women are laughed out of the room when acting on the same behalf for men? Every female knows that there is not a single man out there that understands women. Not a one! Some just pretend better than others. But face it, guys. We befuddle you. So keep your hands out of my medical choices.

Finally, on my apple box (get what I did there? I'm standing on my platform which often was an apple box, but I am typing into my Apple computer) address about human rights, let's look at the latest thing to piss a lot of people off. Dan Cathy and Chick-fil-A.

I read today that Mayor Bloomberg (NYC) thinks that the mayors of Boston, Chicago, and San Francisco are wrong in blocking Chick-fil-A from their cities. (By the way, DC mayor Gray has also chimed in, calling it "hate chicken"). Bloomberg says that "You really don’t want to ask political beliefs or religious beliefs before you issue a permit. That’s just not government’s job." Now, I agree to a point. Freedom of speech, capitalism, and all that. Yet when the person running the company who is applying for a permit blatantly airs his beliefs and they go against the basic tenets of human rights and more importantly, human decency, I think that it does become the government's job to protect its citizens. Mayor Gray's spokesman seems to be right on the money: “We will not support and don’t want them here, but if they are legally entitled to a permit, they are legally entitled to a permit,” Ribeiro said."

In doing some research for this enlightening article that you are currently taking in, I learned that Chick-fil-A stopped its "Eat Mor Chikin"campaign during the mad cow situation so as not to seem insensitive. In fact, Dan Cathy, the president and CEO of the chain claims that Chick fil-A's mission is to "To glorify God by being a faithful steward of all that is entrusted to us. To have a positive influence on all who come in contact with Chick-fil-A". It's a Christian company, but to me it seems that by taking such a stand against homosexuality, they are completely snubbing their noses at the teachings of Jesus. The Bible says things like judge not, lest ye be judged and do unto others as you would have done to you and  thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. But let's forget the Bible for a second. What does David and Michael's romance have to do with you? (Unless you have a crush on one of them, then too bad for you). If they are happy, then let them be happy.

If you're concerned about pda's. Well, I'm always concerned about this. There is no need for anyone to be rubbing body parts near where I can see them, unless of course I am paying to see that, but that's a different circumstance altogether :). So boy on boy, girl on girl, girl on boy, boy on girl, I don't care! As long as they're both adults and consenting go have at it... behind walls... where I don't have to bear witness.

We've been through this, people! Seriously. Go watch "The Loving Story" and see that we've just traded who we are attacking.  Can't we just worry about our own problems and let others worry about their's? Stop making people feel so worthless that death becomes preferable to the unwarranted and unceasing torment from jackasses who misunderstand their religion.
The most shocking aspect to me is that it always seems to come from the people who really have no foot to stand on.

I'm going to be done here in a minute. I know I am hammering it in at this point, but I am so disappointed in us. We are a hair short of stoning people, for what? For loving? And people are proud of themselves for this?