it’s blogger boobiethon time :: donate cash and/or pix :: save boobies :: oct 1 -7 2009
If boobies bother you - yeah, you, over there, in the back - please go elsewhere for the next week.
A few years ago, I got in on the ground level of what would become the blog world’s most insane breast cancer fundraiser. Of course, we had no idea what was happening at the time. We just wanted help pay for a trip to Florida for a girl that could have really used one. We bloggers got a wee bit too excited, and donated way more than was needed for the plane ticket. Robyn donated the overage to Komen and the fundraiser was born. (There’s a more in-depth history, written by Robyn herself, available here.)
Anyhoo, with the exception of one year, I’ve been involved ever since. I’ve given my cash, my time, and yes, my rack.
Seriously, it’s quite astonishing to realize that my boobies have been made available on teh interweb since 2002. It’s not something I would normally do and I’m never quite 100% with posting pictures of The Girls online, but… I look at it like this: if some guy wants to pony up $50 to see a picture of my nekkid boobies, then more power to him. Give the cash to a good cause and enjoy the view. It’s just skin. At the end of the day, I still have my boobies. Thousands of men and women aren’t so lucky.
I didn’t used to have a “real” reason to get involved… I just did it because I’m a girl. I have boobies. I want to keep my boobies.
Then, a couple of years ago, I got my reason. A few months ago, I got my other reason…
As if I didn’t have enough different versions of cancer in my extended family, now I’ve got breast cancer attacking my loved ones.
This. Stops. Now.
Please check out the Boobiethon’s website and learn how you can help out.
The boobies (and those of us attached to them) thank you very much.
——> If you’re not comfortable with the Boobiethon’s modus operandi, please don’t hold that against any of us who participate. We all have our opinions about the best way to fundraise and this is something I look forward to doing every year. I do not consider it softcore pr0n or exploitation or anything else that has been flung at us… your opinion has been noted and duly ignored.
adam duritz :: mohegan sun, uncasville, ct :: august 29 2009
I’m writing this from the beautiful Millennium Hotel in The. Worst. State. Ever.
I don’t know what is wrong with Ohio and I, but this state apparently hates me. Hardcore.
Which is fine because the feeling is quite mutual…
I almost didn’t make it here yesterday. The incoming flight was delayed and every one (including the flight staff) was getting kind of antsy waiting for it. I don’t know if that had anything to do with us getting rushed onto the plane, but we left Charlotte ASAP only to have to turn back not too long after we left due to some sort of mechanical issue.
In the Charlotte boarding area, I saw a woman knitting so I sat across from her and pulled out the Retro Rib Sox. (Magic loop, toe-up, two at a time, if you’re curious. In a GORGEOUS red.) We knit for a bit and then others started noticing us. This woman came over to talk to us about knitting - she tried, it looked terrible and she gave up, so she basically came over to get some “how to” advice from the two of us. Sadly, tatmom was the more friendly of the two of us because I couldn’t seem to count past five without getting all confused and I spent a lot of time looking at my knitting going, “WTF” and counting stitch after stitch. Despite my issues, I did manage to be friendly and social. (Go me!)
You know how you fall into conversations with people and you just *know* their conversational boundaries? Yup. Between the three of us, we must have chased off six different people with our toxic ideas and free thought. Tatmom is a Christian (not THAT type LOL) who was brought up in a wicked conservative, whack-job offshoot of Christianity. She has since decided she likes being able to think freely and have certain freedoms, so she is no longer practicing that particular flavor… The stories she was telling were along the lines of the stuff you’d hear on like 20/20… you never meet people who have lived something that f’ed up. Fascinating.
It was interesting and challenging to talk to her. I like how she can’t come to terms with the biology of being gay (it’s not natural to be born “that way”) yet is able to fully believe that people should be allowed to be who they want to be, and that includes being gay. If you’re in love, it doesn’t matter what gender you’re in love with - it should just be enough that you’re in love. It’s awesome that she still holds to her belief but is open minded enough to accept alternate realities. So, anyhoo, we’re stitting there talking and the other woman decides to come out and tell us she’s been with her partner for 18 years and that she used to downplay the fact that her lover was another woman. They had gotten married when they lived in MA but now they live in the south where it’s a little different. It was awesome to see how happy she was that she could say that she was gay to someone. I had said something about being a bleeding heart, tree hugging liberal and she was thrilled. Her next comment was something like she “knew the three of us were of the same mind”.
After she made that comment, it dawned on me that you couldn’t have picked three more different looking people and come anywhere near close to assuming that they shared very similar beliefs. It made me wonder how it was possible that we just knew that our overt liberalism, subtle homosexuality and open minded, yet deeply religious world views would mesh. It’s something I’m still chewing on. How is it possible that you can just *know* where a random’s strangers boundaries are but you struggle with determining your friends’ boundaries? I’m talking about people you’ve known for years, even your spouse, yet you still don’t know what’s safe to talk about. You always know when you cross the line, but you never knew where the line was until that point.
It was weird. Very weird.
Just goes to show - you never know what’s going to happen when women start to whip out pointy sticks and play with string.
one of these things is not like the others
dido, baba, me, dad, mom, grandma :: manchester, ct :: april 1976
(Ya’ll can go grab the kleenex and curse Mr. CC Chapman for the inspiration for this entry... I’ll wait.)
Today, Sept. 19, is my father’s birthday.
Normally, I take it hard… aren’t birthdays a celebration of life? He’s dead. Has been for a while now. It makes it hard for me to be all “*happy dance* it’s my dad’s birthday!” because, well, he’s not here to celebrate it with me. And it sucks.
For whatever reason, this year started out relatively painless. To be honest, it started out on a kick-ass note. J and I headed into Boston for some retail therapy of the best sort. We hit the BU Bookstore for our traditional “stock up on new BU gear to wear to the hockey games” purchases. I had to deviate from tradition *just* a wee bit and get myself one of the National Championship shirts in addition to my long-sleeved t and sweatshirt. (Well, as much as I love my boys I have to bask while I still can. I really doubt they’ll repeat, but who knows what the freshmen class will bring. We’ll see on the 3rd.)
[Tangent: Can I just say that I LOVE the fact that the BU Bookstore is in a Barnes & Noble? I got to use my B&N discount card -saved $16!! On clothes!]
Then we went out to lunch at Fire+Ice. Eh. I’m wicked spoiled - in Ann Arbor, MI, there’s this awesome restaurant called BD’s Mongolian Barbeque. Basically, it’s a make-your-own stir fry place, and mere words can’t do it justice. It really needs to be experienced. Fire+Ice is good - for what it is - but God, do I miss BD’s. Crappy atmosphere aside, I did still manage to stuff myself silly.
After that, we wandered to the Pru. I had to go to Levenger to get supplies for my latest project. Oddly enough, I was out of Circa parts. I was in desperate need of rings and covers. I have no idea how that happened! *grin* I spent way too much, but amazingly, everything I bought was on sale. Levenger stock up sale FTW!
Came home all excited to watch Matty Gilroy take on the Bruins, only to find out the game was blacked out. BLACKED OUT! And not a single regional channel was showing it. NESN had tennis! TENNIS! W.T.F?!?!?! So not happy about that. I think I’m calling Comcast and getting NHL Center Ice. *sigh* Like we don’t have enough sports channels already. *grumble*
Since I didn’t have the hockey game to keep me from being productive, I came into my (still under freaking construction) office to work on Mr. B2’s b-day gift. HOLY CRAP. I am NEVER doing anything like that again. I think, all together, I lost 4 days to it. So, yeah - if you’re expecting anything that requires high levels of creative energy from me, you’ll be disappointed for a while. I’m done. Kaput. Finis.
So… before I started on the Project From Hell, I had to check in with Twitter and Facebook. I saw CC’s video in that little sidebar whoozey on FB and remembered I wanted to watch it. It’s really a beautiful and touching tribute to his family. The bits with his Dad are… they made me cry. I bawled through the entire 5 minutes and then watched it again. And one more time.
I don’t know - maybe I’m more emotional about it because of what today is. Maybe I’m just a big softie at heart. (SHHHHHHH! Don’t tell anyone!)
At any rate, it got me thinking. I spent a lot of time with my mother’s parents (the ukrainians) and I have so many great memories of my Dido. He wasn’t perfect but he used to take me to Carvel and the park all the time in this big old Buick that smelled like old man. Really, for a little kid, what more do you need than that? So many of my memories of him focus on meals in the dining room, watching him, my uncle and my father (and sometimes the in-laws) doing shots of Metaxa. (I have NO idea how I remember THAT of all things!) He got to meet his first three grandchildren at least. We were his pride and joy and we knew it.
I never got to know my father’s father. He died when my father was in Vietnam. My father never talked about him.
Since I didn’t know my grandfather, I started thinking about my father and what he would have been like as a grandfather.
To be quite blunt, he would have fucking LOVED it.
He knew that I was never going to have kids. He might have known it before I did because he never said a word about grandkids. Not ever. He’d talk about when I got married, and then, after the divorce, he’d tell me to never get married, but he never once brought up the idea of having grandkids. Instead, he put a lot of energy into joking about the business he was going to start - “Rent A Kid”. Basically, it was Big Brothers / Big Sisters without the commitment. You want to take Bobby to his first Sox game, but there’s no Bobby? Rent him! You want to take your daughter prom dress shopping, but your real daughter would rather go to the prom in a tux and Chuck Taylors? Rent a girly girl for the afternoon!
You have to admit, it was a pretty brilliant idea. It would never fly - especially not in today’s world - but there are days when even I think taking a kid to their first Beanpot would be fun, but there’s no way in hell I’m making that sort of commitment for two Monday nights in February!!! I’m positive, though, that my father would have covered all his bases. I’m pretty sure there would have been rentable reasons as to why birth control is a Good Idea.
I don’t know what impact his father had on him or if it had any thing to do with the way I was raised, but he was a good father. He was strict as heck some times. Other times, he was wrapped so tight around my fingers he’d cut off the circulation. We spent a lot of time together and he was my best friend. He used to joke that, at first, he was disappointed that he didn’t have a son and then he realized that he had a daughter who didn’t know she was a girl. When he was feeling playful, he’d introduce me to people as his son Tom. I grew up with some minor gender issues, but I’ve always been the uber-tomboy and my dad loved it. He did not like it when my body reminded him I was not his son. Our first trip bra shopping? I wish I had taken a picture of his face! He was totally not prepared for that or the other joys specific to being the father of a teenaged girl. (My mom was pretty much a non-person by the time I was 13; Dad was left to do this all on his own because she and I couldn’t be in the same room.)
I could go on and on… he had a lot of faults, and I hated him sometimes. REALLY hated him. But at the same time, he was the type of father more guys should aspire to be. He was amazing - he taught me so much, and instilled so many good things in me, that I know I wouldn’t be the person I am if he hadn’t been who he was. (And, yes, one day I *will* get that MBA and really make him proud, but I’m still recovering from the 2nd undergrad…) Seriously, I look back on all of it, even the way he died, and I’m thankful I knew him. I’d give anything for more time with him, but I’m beyond thankful I had 26 good, quality years with him.
I’m not sure how to end this, so I’ll share this joke. Someone sent it to me a long time ago, and it perfectly captures him. (That tweeting dad in the Verizon commercial (“I’m sitting on the porch”) is also very much like him…) Where was I? Oh yeah, the joke.
An old man was sitting on a bench at the mall. A young man walked up to the bench and sat down. He had spiked hair in all different colors: green, red, orange, blue, and yellow.
The old man just stared.
Every time the young man looked, the old man was staring.
The young man finally said sarcastically, “What’s the matter old timer, never done anything wild in your life?”
Without batting an eye, the old man replied, “Got drunk once and had sex with a peacock. I was just wondering if you were my son.”
sasquatch in his natural habitat :: agganis arena, boston, ma :: march 15 2009
It’s a little more than 2 weeks until the puck drops and the 2009-2010 BU season begins!!!
I. Can. Not. Wait.
Seriously. The hubby and I are all twitchy… we’ve been viewing videos on YouTube, obsessing over players we’ve watched at BU (Gilroy, Curry, Petey Mac, Baby Bourque, etc.), and I’ve been known to sing “The Song” from time to time. I like to sing it at stop lights. When I have the windows down. With the hand motions. Just because.
And did I mention?
WE’RE! GOING! TO! FENWAY!
WE’RE!!! GOING!!!!! TO!!!!! FENWAY!!!!!!!
(I think that deserves a “F*ck ‘em up! F*ck ‘em up! BC SUCKS!!!!” BU. BC. Fenway Park. I think that’s a Boston-area college hockey fan’s top fantasy come to life right there! Well, it’s mine at least… the media was calling it the “worst kept secret”, but how could you have the Winter Classic at Fenway and not include COLLEGE HOCKEY’S MOST INSANE RIVALRY? Especially when the two schools are just down the Green Line from Fenway…)
Anyhoo… let’s get to the point, shall we?
Three conversations. Three people who know me three different ways. One conclusion.
Freaks me out.
I’ve been thinking about this hard over the past few weeks now, and I’ve come a conclusion of my own.
When things are meant to occur in my life, they just happen. I fall into them.
Case in point # 1 - Hockey
Working in hockey was a pipe dream of mine, but I had no idea how to go from fan to staff. I started thinking about how to get my foot in the door with the Whale, and BAM! I was hired by the UConn Men’s hockey program as a student manager. I pushed that into an internship with the Whale. From there, I wound up in Toledo as the Director of Community Relations for the Toledo Storm (ECHL affiliate of the Red Wings). Granted, my career in hockey didn’t last as long as I would have liked it to, but at least I can say I did it. I achieved my goal… there aren’t a lot of people who can say that because the competition is so freaking ridiculous. I’ve tried to get back into the front office - I send my resume out every once in a while, but honestly, the desire isn’t there any more. I’d rather be a fan and watch the game rather than be staff and run around during the game.
Case in point # 2 - Accounting/Bookkeeping
I failed BOTH my accounting classes when I was getting my marketing degree. My dad was an accountant. He used to help me with my homework and I STILL didn’t understand it. (Yup. That’s right. I am the daughter of an accountant who couldn’t pass an accounting class if my life depended on it. RAWK!) After wandering around Toledo, aimlessly, looking for something that I liked doing as much as working in hockey, I took a job at an ad agency. Slowly, I started helping out more and more with the books and accounting FINALLY started making sense. (Almost 5 years after those classes. I’m a little retarded some times.) After that, I just got more and more involved into accounting/bookkeeping things over the years. After moving back to New England, I took a class for kicks, which turned into enrolling part time, which then ended with me graduating Summa Cum Laude with an accounting degree, and wouldn’t you know? I use that damn degree daily. And I love it.
Case in point # 3 - Indie music
This, of course, is the most recent thing and one of the oddest. I’ve been over-involved with instrument for a while now (photography, lame ass graphic design, tweeting, running their Facebook group, stalling like hell on the fan site, supporting them on the road) and was kind of thinking about how to take that further. They all seem wicked busy and I’m lost now that I don’t have homework to do after work anymore, so I thought I’d extend a helping hand. Then, I kind of chickened out. They know I’ll do anything for them, and they’ve been good at asking/telling me what they need from me, so I’m just going to back off and let them come to me. But it’s been in the back of my mind for a while and those conversations definitely didn’t help matters.
A few days ago, the amazing CC Chapman retweeted a request from his musician friend, Matthew Ebel. Matthew was looking for some virtual booking assistants. Without even thinking about it, I replied and before I knew it, I was hired. The funny/sad thing is, other than hearing CC talk him up a lot, I never really checked Matthew’s music out. I took the job based on my blind faith that CC wouldn’t steer me wrong.
I should have checked out the music the second I heard about him… instead I jotted his name down on my Someday/Maybe list and forgot all about it. (Note to self - check the books & music S/M list more often!!!) I am a freaking moron of the highest degree!
I love his stuff. I really love it. It’s my kind of music. After several days of listening obsessively to the music files he sent us, I can’t pick a favorite song. I’m torn between “Drive Away”, “Everybody Needs a Robot”, “Trees” and well, the rest of them. He’s got a unique sound all his own, but it’s comfortable. (That’s the same word I use to describe instrument’s music, too… hmmmm.) I’m wicked excited to help him get more exposure.
Three different “career paths” that just sort of happened. I don’t see myself quitting the day job to manage instrument, but working for both of them is great exposure to the industry. So… maybe. Just like hockey and the accounting jobs didn’t happen overnight, neither will the band management gig. We’ll just have to see…
While I’m figuring it all out, go entertain yourself and watch some Matthew Ebel videos—
1) Drive Away [vid]
2) Everybody Needs a Ninja [vid]
3) Everybody Needs a Robot - live from Accident Hash HQ [vid]
4) Trees [vid]
aaron :: dodd stadium, norwich, ct :: august 15, 2009
I keep thinking about the conversation Soup and I had outside of Up or On the Rocks last Saturday. We were talking about groupies vs. friends because Skinny was wearing a “got groupies” t-shirt. I understand that the original dictionary definition isn’t derogatory at all, but it has been twisted over the years and it’s a label I take offense to. There was a point during the show where Soup thanked the “fans” - the group I was with - and then changed it to “friends”. It’s nice to be thought of that way. During the conversation, I pointed out that with both Instrument and All Crazy, I love the music and the people in the bands. It’s this passion for the music and this connection with the members that makes me travel all over creation to see them. Granted, friends came first with Instrument and the music came first with All Crazy, but the end result is still the same.
Being able to travel the way I do and being able to see my friends doing what they love makes me all kinds of happy. I haven’t have this much fun in a long time. I know it’s kind of silly that I drop everything and rearrange my schedule (see three bands in one day), but it’s probably the most important thing I do for me after hockey.
A long time ago I was told that when I talk about hockey, I get this look on my face. It’s hard to describe but apparently my whole face lights up, my eyes get this insane twinkle and I look massively different.
The bands cause my “hockey face” now.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the three conversations I’ve had and my life’s path. I keep coming back to Bertis Downs. Will my path end at the same place his did? I don’t know. Do I want it to? I don’t know.
Like everything else in my life lately, I’m just going to go with the flow and see what happens.