To Laugh Or Climb into a Belltower

I know you get so tired of hearing this, but Im so busy!! It's Nuckin Futs. I have 4 major events this week with our student orgs and 1 police forum to do. And everyone know that working with students and police is like herding cats on fire. So that's my excuse and I'm sticking too it.

I will say it has been a couple of interesting weeks. First I got invited to the President of the university's house by the first lady to attend a luncheon for the African American students. Why I had to be there was beyond me. My boss wanted me to talk a little about Mom's Weekend. Thats all. Nothing more. So I arrived, dressed in business casual, took special care with my hair and even dabbed on some makeup. Pretty good for me, and showed up on time. The next thing I knew, my boss was taking me aside to change into this purple tshirt that had the logo of our student orgs in our office on the front of it. OK. No problem. A little disappointed cause I agonized over my outfit for a day and being the only one wearing a tshirt among dressed up students? Not so professional. But if I as talking out our student orgs. it made a little sense.

Now there is being a minority, but there is also being a minority among minorities. The most awkward position of all. The only Asian among the African American students, first lady, faculty and staff. But everyone knows you need a little rice with gumbo right? (Quit ohhh and awwwing, Im evoking my brown privileged here to crack race jokes) So I was doing OK but still felt like everyone was staring at me. And not that nice polite, "Who the hell are you?" stare, but the "What the Fuck are you?" stare. Toward the end, I went to the restroom, did my business and was washing my hands and turned to dry them. Something caught my eye, so I turned and on the back of my shirt was a gigantic, and I mean gigantic, from neck to ass-gantic Nefertiti on the back of my shirt with Black Women's Caucus around it. So here I have been trouncing around this luncheon, the only Asian in my tacky T shirt with that on my back. I might as well been wearing black face. No wonder people stared at me. So needless to say, I spent as much time as I could with my back to the wall, wondering why in the hell this always to me.

Second, I had this ridiculous conversation with my mommy dearest about this hoarding show. She's a hoarder. That's why no one is allowed downstairs. My old room has turned into the QVC over order room and she has multiples of everything. So I was teasing her in a good natured way. She was laughing and denying. In fact, I made her laugh so hard she had to hang up the phone. Only to call back and tell me the reason she had called was that she wanted an ionizing salt crystal lamp for Christmas. 5 of them.

I told her, "Oh sure, I'll hoarder them off QVC for her."

Who's laughing now? It's my turn anyway.

My Big Fat Randomness

So you may have noticed my lengthy absence from blogging. I guess Im hitting that mid-logging period of my blogging. You know, it’s something you have been doing for so many years and suddenly you really start to wonder the about the point of what you are doing. Kind of like a mid-life crises. You start to have thoughts of abandoning your blog, only to start a newer more racy blog with complete anonymity where you eff this and that and post a photo of yourself 20 years ago and 20 lbs lighter and make up some cool name. Or, like me, you just sit and stare at the screen, hands poised on the keyboard thinking about that last doughnut on the countertop until you snap out of it, say Fuck it and go and surf for the latest news on a magic diet pill and decide it’s just easier to buy a size larger and cut the tags out.

Seriously, have you ever noticed at thrift stores that the tags are all cut out of the fat people’s clothes? Like someone is going to judge you instantaneously when you drop them off. Your taking it to Goodwill in a garbage bag for Pete’s sake, where it will be shipped out to Denver and de-loused! No one is going to pick up your fat tank in New Orleans and say, “holy shit” this belongs to Blinkin in Washington! Man, what a fat ass!!

Anyway, I guess this is my way to deal with my blogging plateau. Pick everything around me apart to make myself feel like I actually have a life and that someone out in cyberspace is really interested in what I have to say. So bear with me as I randomize my way through life.

On the upside, I finally decided what I am going to be for Halloween. It took awhile. I am far beyond the sexy nurse and slinky kitty costumes and being short and brown, have done the ewok thing to death in my youth. So I opted for people I admire and wish I could channel in real life. So I will be Frida Kahlo, ok an asian version of Frida and much plumper version….more like Frida-Lay actually, but Frida nonetheless. Koiboy is planning on Captain Morgan, I assure you it’s not because it’s my favorite thing he does naked, he just does it so well, and hey, who doesn’t think about a pirate in the bedroom? I think he would be a great Captain Morgan and have encouraged him to grow a “butt duster” (oh my lesbian friends, just think about it for a little while and you’ll get it) to be in character.

Welcome to my random world, where everything don’t mean shit.

Great White Hotness

So life goes on. Sorry to have been absent yet again. I was involved with planning our local police forum with the campus students. It went pretty well, a police intern even volunteered to be tased in front of the crowd. I must say, I never, ever thought I would see the day that I would be out on the campus mall, standing next to the police chief and other officers handing out fliers saying with unbridled enthusiasm, “Would you like to see someone get tased?” Never in a million years. I suppose I can blame it on my lack of being a mother. Having no reason to follow my moral compass as a fine example to any off spring, I have sunk to the lowest depths of self depravity were I may as well be peddling pain and crack. After all who is watching me?

I often find myself asking this question, only to answer with “Pthththbhth. No one!” before I think of doing something questionable. Who cares? Of course I have the part of me that always counters with “what would Jesus do?” and most of the time, albeit grudgingly at times, Jesus wins out and I tell Satan to go fuck himself. I suppose Im just getting comfortable in my childless life finally. Instead of constantly comparing myself to the measure of societal motherhood, I compare myself to those crazy looney old women that are well known for all the things they did wrong. Why not? I’ll be sashaying around in black with sandals, draped with crazy jewelry and scarves, lots of scarves, peering over thick black framed glasses that dangle around my neck with a chain in no time calling everyone “Hon” or “Sweetie”. Ok, probably not cause the stick up my ass would prevent me from bending over and pulling on my Birkenstocks. But the thought is nice.

In his own way I think Koiboy is recovering too, and not measuring himself against the tall order of fatherhood. Even though he doesn’t speak about it much, I know it’s been hard. Especially since his younger brother was killed in a car accident, he’s the only male left in his immediate family. But I notice he’s lightening up. Why just yesterday we went to lunch and he spilled something on the crotch of his pants. I told him to go to the bathroom but he wiped it up instead and said, he didn’t want to stand up and “overwhelm me with his great hotness. “ And Im afraid that just might happen someday, after all this is the same man that can fold panels from our 8ftx10ft dismantled shed into 2 garbage can loads. Now that’s hotness. And since it’s just us in the house, he can shine his hotness all over the place, and Im sure even Jesus wouldn’t mind that.

Here’s Blinkin, reporting from the depths of her depravity.