If you’re going to get an annual update from a family, it usually comes in the form of a Christmas newsletter. Well, in 1974 my liberated mother decided to get her Erma Bombeck on and send out the update in the form of four-page article called “Dear Diary, or How I Spent My 35th Birthday.” If you’ve ever wondered how a blog-post would have read in 1974 (although, that’s something fairly specific to wonder, so likely, no one has), here’s your answer. Apparently, my mom had the makings of a blogger, long before the concept existed. She was, and still is, a woman truly ahead of her time.
And now, without further ado, I give you February 1974 and my mother’s 35th birthday …
My Actual Family, 1974-ish
“Happy birthday,” he said, as I gagged on the overpowering smell of his hairspray.
Where does it say that a wife should have to endure the noxious fumes of a man’s vanity? Where does it say that the husband has first crack at the hairdryer in the morning? I say, beware, girls, of the nice guy who fits in perfectly with your dreams of the ideal man and father for your children! I am convinced that these so-called “nice guys” are the ruination of the truly liberated woman. I’m so liberated that I find myself in a kind of oppressed liberation. With him sitting on the sidelines, full of self-satisfaction, watching my every move and thinking to himself, “You got yourself into this mess, Anita, and you can get yourself out of it.”
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One of the weird things about being a lesbian, and I assume the same holds true for gay men and others of a non-heteronormative persuasion, is that there’s really no societal rules to obey or milestones to reach. For instance, I’ve never looked at my watch and thought, “Oh shit! I didn’t realize how late it was. I better hurry up and find a husband!” And although things are much different now, it wasn’t all that long ago that no one would have thought to ask when I was going to get around to birthing some babies. Back then, lesbians just had dogs. Now we’re collecting babies like they’re on sale at J. Crew. Continue reading →
Most people are familiar with the warning “be careful what you ask for, you just might get it.” To me, it seems mostly applicable to situations where you find yourself with the opportunity to have a wish or three granted, but had to use careful wordage and phrasing due to the tendency of bottle-dwelling genies to be quite literal. Or maybe spending eternity crammed inside a bottle has just turned them into assholes. Continue reading →
I woke up fat not long ago. Not Lifetime Network and TLC fighting for the rights to my story fat, but definitely heavier than I’ve ever been. And logically I know it happened over time, but the older I get, the faster time seems to fly. Remember how long it took to go from your 16 year milestone of getting a driver’s license to your 21 year milestone of being able to drink legally? Eons! I had to drink illegally for years just to cope with time’s refusal to hurry the hell up. Those were the slowest five years of my life. Do you know how long the most recent five years took to pass? About 37 minutes. At this rate I’ll be dead before I finish this post. Continue reading →
I’ve written before about my obsession with The Murder Channel (better known as ID – Investigation Discovery) and how their programming line-up leads one to conclude that just about everyone in a person’s life is capable of murder. In addition to wiping out any trust I may have had in my fellow humans, I’ve also learned a lot. For instance, I’m pretty sure I’ve absorbed enough information to allow me to commit the perfect murder. I figure it’s good to have a back-up hobby in the event this blogging thing doesn’t work out. Continue reading →
I don’t have a bucket list. There are places I’d like to visit or re-visit, and a few things I want to try, many of them legal. But if that last day comes and I haven’t done them all, I’m not going to flounce out of the room in a huff, declaring my entire life a waste of time as I slam my bedroom door, fling myself on my bed and die … either out of spite or because flouncing and flinging can be dangerous in one’s twilight year Continue reading →
I can never remember the blogging rules. When returning from a hiatus, do you acknowledge the absence, or just dive back in as though you were never gone? Or are you supposed to hang up your Gone Fishin’ sign before slipping out the backdoor? If it’s the latter, that could be a problem for me since I generally don’t know when I’ll go off the grid until I’m well into the thick of it. Continue reading →
While filling my tank yesterday, I saw a woman leave the gas station’s attached convenience store carrying two enormous cups from the soda fountain. As she got closer she told the man at the pump next to mine that the drink he wanted wasn’t available, so she’d gotten him something else instead. Before he had a chance to reply, she slipped on something. She managed not to fall, but did instinctively raised her arms to maintain her balance, which caused her to squeeze one of the cups she was holding and sort of fling the other one a towards the man. He wasn’t hit by the refreshing airborne beverage, but a fair portion of the squashed soda did end up on her.
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I love television. I always have and I suspect I always will. I saw the first episode of Sesame Street, tuned in for MTV‘s first day on the air and generally fell asleep trying to stay up and watch Saturday Night Live during its early seasons. Television has been my companion, my babysitter and my teacher. I can walk into my kitchen and instantly forget what I went in there for, but I can remember theme songs and commercial jingles from better than forty years ago.
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The Writing Challenge of Indeterminate Duration – Day 15
It’s Sunday! And you know what that means! That’s right, it’s Anything Can Happen Sunday (ACHS) here on Pucker Up Buttercup! I’m your host, the Baroness Lesbiana Von Lichtenclit and have we got some fun lined-up for you! Continue reading →