Category: Crankypantsing

Crankypantsing, Ladybusiness, News & Politics

Free Whores

Shelly

Via Feministing, a letter from Republican Rep. Cynthia Davis on how only sluts use contraceptive. Obviously, that’s all sorts of wrong for a number of reasons, not the least of which is the fact that her underlying premise–that single women who have sex are whores–sucks. But, what made me choke on my PB&J was this gem:

When I was listening to the debate last week I wondered what kind of man would want to enjoy free sex and then expect her to provide for her own contraceptives? These are the kind of men who want free whores. Any man who would be so low life as that does not deserve to have any woman love him. Smart women will stay away from men who use them and abuse them.

What on earth does that mean? Seriously. Does she not realize that married women, too, are generally left with the responsibility of providing contraception?  That’s an awfully broad brush she’s wielding.  And, what exactly is a free whore, anyway?

And then there’s her baffling statement that state provided birth control for single women will increase the birth rate. WTF? Yes, I realize that it’s incredibly immoral to be poor. I also realize that poor folks should be punished for their transgressions. And I also, too, double-plus-as-well realize that single women who have sex should be pilloried in the town square. After all, they’re whores, right? Um, no, they’re not. They’re human beings who have every bit as much right to have access to physical intimacy and decent health care as do UberMoral Rich Folks.

The answer is not to take away access to abortion, and then to take away access to the means to keep from becoming pregnant. Good grief! No, if people like Cynthia Davis actually cared about women and children and all that “family values” stuff that they like to rabbit on and on and on about, then they’d be looking for solutions that

  • Provide for the care of the people who are already here. That means none of that ridiculous “poor mothers don’t deserve welfare” crap. Of course they deserve welfare, and so do their kids. You can’t help people to become contributing members of society by taking away their access to adequate schooling, health care, nutrition, housing, etc.
  • They’d trust women to make their own choices about whether or not they want to become pregnant. Period. That means access to birth control and to abortions. Because, if you can’t trust a woman to make those sorts of decisions, you certainly can’t trust her to raise a child./li>

The entire letter can be found here. But, I warn ya’, it ain’t pretty. Aside from the hemorrhaging from her logic centers, the woman obviously did not learn grammar from Sister Dominica.

Crankypantsing, Meta

Google-y Fun

Shelly

Gleaned from my various stats…

Animal related queries:

  • how i could write a rough draft about a cat (There are days I’m glad I’m not back in high school. Can you imagine what sort of writer’s block someone must have if they’re reduced to Googling for this?)
  • how to tell kittens apart (Apart from what? Dogs? Meatloaf? Hiking boots?)
  • Who is the voice of the gecko in the Geico commercials? (Beats me, and I have no idea why Google sent you to me.)
  • purple tongue cat dehydration (I sincerely hope they rushed the poor cat to the emergency vet, and that they were Googling as a post-visit, fact-gathering expedition, because those symptoms are seriously bad news.)
  • purple tongue pit bull (If it’s all purple, it’s not a Pit Bull. Any breed can have black or purple spots on the tongue/mouth, but only a few have solid black/purple tongues. And if it’s purple from dehydration, GET THAT DOG TO THE VET NOW.)
  • how do cats prints (I’m not even sure how to parse that.)
  • perineal urethrostomy pu surgery and cost (I get this basic query at least once a week. The surgery itself was around US$400, if I recall correctly. I mention it only because it seems to be something people go Googling for. But surely, asking one’s vet would be the most expedient and accurate way to find out what it’s going to cost you?)
  • mayan stingray piercing penis (Stingrays have ethnicity? Who knew? And, what, exactly, is a stingray piercing penis? Actually, I don’t think I want to know.)

Non-animal queries:

  • edward kienholz the cost (If you have to ask… Though, he’s on the wrong side of grass these days, so I don’t know why anyone would want to purchase him.)
  • things with three (Just any old things?)
  • why do shamans wear masks (42)
  • shape line color texture value of olmec head (Is that value in the monetary sense, or in the design sense? If the former, priceless; if the latter, they’re sculptures, so it doesn’t really apply.)
  • opposition to civil works administration cwa
  • aztec art monte alban skeletal head
  • which new deal agency hired artists to paint murals in public buildings
  • vision after the sermon iconography gauguin (Unfortunately, the paper in question was about Manao Tupapau, not Vision After the Sermon.)

Okaythen.

Crankypantsing

Rural Road Warriors

Shelly

Why, oh why, do I attract reckless drivers like a Chow attracts cockleburrs? I had two young guys in a Camaro attached to my rear bumper, until they decided–not to merely pass me. Oh no, that would’ve been too civilized–but to instead, wait until I stopped at an intersection to make a left-hand turn. Before I could negotiate said turn, however, they zipped around my left side, so that they could turn in front of me. Sweet fancy Jesus! It’s not like I was poking along, either. I was going 45mph in a 35mph zone, which is plenty fast, I think. They needed to be going even faster, I guess, because they zoomed off at an insane rate of speed.

Then, as I was going through Miller’s Flats (a stretch of straight two-lane highway, speed limit 55mph), I had an Explorer in front of me and a string of cars behind me, headed by a truck with dualies. We were going 65mph, which is plenty fast for that area, as it’s really windy and the road has some weird dippy bits it that want to toss you off into the ditch. Anyway, 65mph was not fast enough for Mr. Dualies, so he passed me. Only, he misjudged the on-coming traffic, and I had to slow down so that he could get around me in time. Then, he did the exact same thing to the Explorer in front of him. So, he made two cars slam on their brakes, put people’s lives at risk, and ultimately slowed down a long line of traffic, just because he had to be in front. And here’s the kicker–he didn’t go any faster than the Explorer had been going! He just wanted to be at the head of the line, I guess. Fuckwit.

I think people should be able to explore their own death wishes, an’ all, but I wish they would disinvite me from the festivities.

Crankypantsing, Pets

Good, um, Morning

Shelly

I’d really like to be sleeping in right now. I had fully intended to do so this ayem, and stayed up extra late onna counta that. So being wakened at 6am by a Beagle in full bay was not my idea of a good time. Not even close. He’s been trailing something in the woods behind me, and has been barking and baying for the last two hours. I am not amused.

I’ve been able to catch glimpses of him out my kitchen window, and I recognize him. He’s the same mostly white Beagle who was dumped here a few years ago. He attached himself to my landfolks’ pack o’ Bumpass hounds, but later took up residence at the Silver Mullet’s house. He nearly got hit by me last Fall as I drove past. Luckily, I’d seen movement in the tall grass and weeds by the side of the road, so I’d slowed way the hell down. He careened onto the road and ended up bouncing off my front tire, unhurt and, hopefully, a little better educated on the laws of physics.

Anyway, he’s having a grand time hunting on this gorgeous morning.

Crankypantsing, Photography

My Swiss Cheese Brain

Shelly

Happy, um, Friday. Or something. It’s clamid here–not exactly cold, but coldish, and grey and drizzley with what I’m pretty sure was a an occasional spittle of sleet. O ick.

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Despite–or rather, because of–the cloud cover, we had a nice little sunset last night.

I’d meant to spend the whole day at home, working on scanning, but I woke up at 3am and realized that I’d forgotten to take care of a very important errand. I ended up getting up relatively early, for a day-off, and going into Bloomington. Lemme tell ya’, that was about the last thing I wanted to spend the morning doing. I got my grocery shopping finished, though, so I should stop complaining. Except I’m not gonna, because I still forgot to pick up dish detergent, damnit! I’ve been out for over a month, and I keep forgetting to buy it. I remembered laundry detergent and camera batteries and lighters[1] and hand soap, sure, but not dish detergent. Hrmph. I’ve been substituting laundry detergent, which gets the job done, but it’s not as satisfyingly sudsy. Heck, I even remembered Kleenex and paper towels! And, no, a list wouldn’t be likely to help, because I’d have to actually take the list to the store with me. That’s the problem with lists, dontcha see?

Anyway, I’m back from errand running. Whew. I’m pet sitting for Ms. Lea’s menagerie this weekend, and I’m happy to report that the driveway ‘twixt here and there has been fixed! Yea, verily, ’tis true! She bought a metric buttload of gravel last week. Of course, the first time we have a big spring rain, the Chasm to Bism will inevitably re-open, but for now, it’s all nice and smooth and just darn peachy.

And, also, too, as well, a young adult bobtail cat turned up next door. I suspect some asshat dumped him, because he’s not at all shy. In fact, he’s heart-breakingly friendly. He’s obviously been someone’s pet. AND HE LOOKS JUST LIKE BASIL!!! But without the eeevilness. He even has a bitty Basil-sized nub. Ms. Lea has him locked in the bedroom, and will decide what to do with him when she returns. In the meantime, I get to go play with Basil’s Good Twin.

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[1] Disclaimer: I don’t smoke, but the electricity here has a bad habit of flaking out whenever it’s windy or really rainy. As in, when we’re having typical Spring-in-Indiana weather. When the electricity went out a few weeks ago, I had a hell of a time finding a working lighter so that I could light candles. I won’t mention how many times I’ve been to the store or gas station since then and I’ve forgotten to pick one up, but it was something on a par with how many times I’ve been to the store and forgotten dish detergent. My brain, it’s like a steel sieve, bay-BEE!

Crankypantsing

That’ll Learn Me

Shelly

I thought I’d have something moderately healthy for breakfast: poached egg on toast. I’m really picky about eggs, and will only eat them if they’re prepared Just Right. Poached eggs are one of my favorites, though. Mmmm

So, I started to make toast and cracked my egg into a bowl. I set the bowl on the stove and waited for the water to boil. When it began bubbling happily, I picked up the bowl and promptly dropped it. I’m a dork, you see, and didn’t stop to think that a ceramic bowl sitting rightthehellnextto a hot burner might get, oh, I dunno, a little warm maybe. Very warm, actually. I burned the hell out of my hand when I picked it up. The egg splattered all over the place when it fell. Half of it seems to have fallen into the burner pan, where it cooked to a crisp. The rest of it either coated the spice bottles next to the stove or ran down the front and sides of the stove-side cabinet.

I’m over the idea of poached eggs, so now I have to figure out what to do with cold toast. Maybe the birds will eat it? And I can’t even clean the burner pan–or cook anything else–until it cools off. Microwaving oatmeal would’ve been much safer.

So now I’m sitting here with an ice cube wrapped in a paper towel, typing whenever my hand gets too cold. I’m just glad that I managed to remember to buy paper towels, because I don’t even want to think of how else I would’ve cleaned up that unholy mess.

Can I go back to bed now?

Art, Crankypantsing

Happy Ides of March!

Shelly

Beware, this post contains crankypantsing.

First, certain people I work with speak far too often and far too loudly. I wish they would either shut the hell up or use their indoor voices. One of these days, I’m going to snap, and yell, “Shhh! This is a library!”

Second, I pulled a muscle in my neck and it’s killing me. I’m praying that little movement and much ibuprofen will be of help.

Instant Review: Creating Sketchbooks for Embroiderers and Textile Artists by Kay Greenlees

According to Amazon.com, it hasn’t been released yet. It came through my coworker’s cataloging queue, today, so I got a chance to check it out.

  • Eye candy galore
  • Chock-a-block with color plates
  • Hardback with sewn binding
  • Amazon.com has it listed for $15.72, but the US price listed on the cover is $24.95, which is still damned good value for money

The book is geared toward the use of sketchbooks for fiber artists, but I think there is plenty of information and inspiration for those who, like me, are fiber-challenged. It’s not really a journaling resource, as it focuses more on the relationship sketchbooks play in the creation of finished artworks. Not that journalers wouldn’t get their money’s worth out of it; I think they would. It’s just not a journaling-specific resource, so it deals less with personal exploration than it does with the process of creating visual concepts. Anyway, I’ve added it to my Amazon wish list and will be purchasing it when it comes out. I’ve definitely spent more money on lesser books.

Oh, hey! My neck/shoulder cramp is nearly gone. Hallelujah!

Crankypantsing, Pets

Over It

Shelly

Okay, that little taste of spring was quite nice, but I’ve suddenly reached my limit.  You see, I found a wee baby tick last night.  There is no creature on God’s green earth that is more loathsome than the tick. Ticks are repulsive, disgusting vectors of disease and they have no business bringing themselves within a country mile of me.  I want a restraining order.

So, I broke out the Frontline and have place an order for a Preventic collar.  Just the one.  And, wow, did that ever feel weird.  I’m used to stocking up by ordering 4-6 tick collars at a time.  There’s no need to do that now, though, since I’m down to one nekkid dog.  A tick collar will last Harriet a full three months, instead of the usual 30 days for the Chowy dog.

Crankypantsing

Linky Monday

Shelly

First, I bring you these fun filled time wasters:

  • Cats in Sinks. Yes, that’s right, pictures of Cats! In! Sinks! Rory would approve, I think.
  • Stuff on My Cat. Have you ever felt the need to pile stuff on top of your cat? Well, you are not alone.
  • My Cat Hates You. Some cats are bad seeds. Other cats are really bad seeds.

Happy Monday! It was a pretty useless weekend, so I didn’t bother to bore y’all with the details. Some highlights, though: I went to see The Libertine on Saturday. Johnny Depp does not disappoint. And, who knew he’d look so good with ’80s heavy aluminum hair? Then, I spent most of yesterday on the couch, watching fil-ums: The Road to God Knows Where (Nick Cave, like Mr. Depp, rarely disappoints), House of 1000 Corpses (revolting), and The Craft (I finally got around to watching it; not bad. At least I now know why Charmed insists on ruining The Smith’s How Soon is Now.).

At one point yesterday, the cat and the dog–who were lazing on the couch with me–started to yawn at the same time that I did. Now, that’s when you know you’ve achieved ultimate uselessness. I’m blaming it on the weather. I always get sleepy when it rains for days on end.

There’s not much to report from the Department of Arting. I didn’t finish anything over the weekend, but I did some preliminary work. I coffee-stained three pairs of toddler’s tights and a baby’s dress, which means my hands smell like coffee. I’d bought them–the tights and dress, not the hands–ages ago for a series of paintings, but they were so starkly white that I didn’t end up using them. I also primed several largish sheets of paper, which means I have a layer of gesso perm-a-bonded to my coffee scented cuticles. Because, you know, I apparently can’t apply anything even vaguely paint-like without using my hands.

While watching movies, I went through a pile of magazines, cutting out junk to use for collage work. Which reminded me of a tip from Andy. You can erase the clay-coat printing from magazine pages. A regular old eraser will work (but is a bit tedious). I found that a foam sanding block or super fine grit sand paper works great, too. Here’s the fun part, though: you can place objects, like coins, keys, or buttons, under the magazine page, then erase/sand over them, leaving a reverse rubbing of the object. Pretty cool, eh? You can do the same thing with larger patterns. The planking on my deck is old and weathered, with a raised grain that would lend itself well to this sort of thing. Many old buildings have interesting wrought iron grille work that might make nice reverse rubbings, as well. I don’t recommend doing any sort of rubbings of grave markers, though, because no matter how gentle you are, it deteriorates the stone. Sad but true. The kindest thing to do with grave markers is to take photos instead of doing rubbings.

And now, the inevitable crankypantsing: While upgrading some of the software on my computer, I decided to give iTunes a try. Boy, was that ever a mistake! For some reason, it doesn’t work on my system. I don’t know why, and I really don’t care enough to figure it out. I tried uninstalling it, redownloading it, and reinstalling it, and that’s as much effort as I’m willing to invest in it. The problem is that the audio is garbled. I assume it’s a compatibility issue. I can play music just fine with other programs, so I know my sound card is not faulty. I think I’ll stick to my old copy of MusicMatch Jukebox, thankyouverymuch. It’s not perfect, but it works well enough.