Snippets From the Last Couple of Weeks

aka Brain Dump...

1) I've acquired a 4th non-husband, TC. He's Acr0nym's brother which seems just slightly incestuous, doesn't it? But it makes sense to me. I mean, in his words, he already puts up with my shit anyway, he might as well have the title...and the shirt (once I've designed it).

That makes 4 non-husbands and a work spouse - a work spouse who is quickly becoming a non-husband too especially after the last two weekends of insanity and awesome chaos.

Collecting non-husbands is totally normal...right?

2) Saturday the 12th was the GeekShow - a fundraiser to benefit denhac, the Denver Hackerspace.

Designed by Spux and shamelessly stolen from the denhac website

While we didn't come anywhere close to raising enough money to install air conditioning at the space, we certainly raised awareness about its existence. Given that it was a rainy, sopping wet mess of a night, it was wildly successfully attended and people are already clamoring for more GeekShow goodness.

Highlights of the night included:

The Jacob's Ladder built by DK at the very last possible second when our scheduled Jacob's Ladder provider had to bail due to an unfortunate family emergency.

DK and I discussing the specs of the cattle prod he offered to build me for Defcon gooning...

Just a little voltage, k? Hee hee. Seriously. That's exactly what I was saying to DK here. Photo by Acr0nym.

A lot of top shelf gin for an unbelievably low price...thanks, 3 Kings Tavern!

DJ Another Mike providing stupidly awesome nerdcore and other geeky music for our pleasure.

The closeup illusionist stylings of Garret DePass who sincerely has me fooled about where that dollar coin went.

The fabulous MC job provided by one of Denver's fab musicians, Ukulele Loki.

(Hee hee. See if you can spot Spux in this video. Hint: starting right 'round 1:56.)

And I don't even know what all else. No, really. I don't even know what all else because I'd had gin and also because when you molest the bald head of a relatively new acquaintance who's just becoming a friend, you keep that shit to yourself.

Moving on...

3) This past Saturday was the 50th birthday celebration for one Megajoules and Gigawatts - the best of the best Mad Mad Scientists. It. Was. Awesome.

Not only did I get to hug on and talk to a very old friend circa the Alabama Years, who is, in fact, still one of Alabama's best friends and who, graciously, more than graciously, agreed to drive my butt home when Acr0nym bailed early, there were a number of people who came out that I rarely get to see in a social setting. I like this as it gives me even more bald heads to molest.

It was, I would say, an epic night, an epic party. I suspect I crushed on a lot of you that night if only for your all-out geekery and willingness to play hacky sack with an 8" dong (a gag gift to the birthday boy). Just sayin'.

Again with the moving on...

4) We've taken a brief hiatus from posting more episodes of Sharp Pointy Objects because:

A) Bomb Betsy's episodes 1 and 2 took a lot out of me

B) Acr0nym needed time to prepare for Geekshow

But we've got an episode in production now about goth/club culture featuring the input of the vocalist of the band, Synapse:

We've also scheduled a recording with some of the boys from Night Muzick - a pyrotechnic outfit that produces highly coveted fireworks displays all around Colorado and beyond.

Having said that and given that I clearly have access to people who run the gamut from transplant recipients, sex workers, semi-famous musicians, terrorist bombing victims, and pyros...what would you like to hear next from SPO?

That's what's been up. Mostly. You know...with the exception of what is TMI.

There's kinda been a lot going on that is TMI.

TMI

Several months ago, a friend of mine, without comment, sent me a link to a blog.

Based on the blog name, I knew it was NSFW but I had no idea what it might contain or why it had been passed on to me. At least, not until I got home that evening and began reading through some of the entries.

The blog, which shall remain nameless here, was an account of the author's *ahem* escapades with various people...in detail...along with her own psychoanalysis of each partner and other sundry content. And, as I read, it became abundantly clear why the link had been sent to me. The people the author was discussing, at least some of them, were clearly people I knew. Even though she did not name any names, they were easily identifiable by the descriptions she so liberally (thoughtlessly) disclosed.

Whoa.

Now, certainly there are people out there writing about their own escapades and shenanigans on a public forum and I don't generally take issue with the practice as long as there is clear warning prior to entering the site that it is not safe for work or children. I particularly appreciate it when the author goes to great lengths not to disclose personal identifiers about themselves so as not to accidentally out someone else. 

And, while it isn't my bag to share locker room stories with the masses, to each his own. It's the interweb. It happens.

However, when I inquired about how in the world my friend had stumbled across this blog, her answer shocked me. She said, "Oh well, [redacted] is posting all the links to her entries on Facebook."

WHAT?!

I was highly irritated.

Not only was the woman posting intimate, easily identifiable information about private, sometimes unflattering, and potentially embarrassing events - some that may have had severe negative consequences for the other parties, she was making sure everyone on her friend list was fully aware of what she'd been getting up to and with whom...without their knowledge or consent.

I wish I was kidding.

I've not been able to look this woman in the face or exchange polite words with her since. She has lost all my respect and I will not associate myself with someone who has such little regard for other people or their privacy. She cares nothing about consent - something I firmly believe extends far outside the reaches of the bedroom. 

Last week then, in another internet forum - not quite as public as Facebook but certainly public enough - another woman disclosed some shenanigans about another person who is quite well known to the forum at large...except this time, she named names.

Disgusted does not even begin to describe what I'm thinking or feeling.

What in hell is wrong with these people?!

Have they never heard of discretion, respect, consent?!

GAH!!!

Apparently not.

There is no excuse for this in my book. Whether the motivation was to bolster their own reputation/self-esteem or publicly destroy the reputation of someone else, was an attempt to gain some credibility, or was merely a drastically stupid lapse in good judgment...

They failed. Miserably.

All that they've accomplished, as far as I'm concerned, is to make themselves a laughing stalk and someone I have no desire to know. They've certainly lost a power advocate, a potential friend and ally in me.

I have been successfully unsubscribed.

1 Up, Dude. 1 Up.

I am able to write this post tonight because of The Bloggess. Because she is a fucking WARRIOR, People. Because her sometimes painful honesty regarding her depression, anxiety, and self-harming paved the way for me.

Even though it isn't diagnosed, I don't think anyone who knows me in person or who has been reading awhile will dispute that I've got an anxiety disorder.

Free-floating anxiety specifically.

Acr0nym has stated he believes I've got mild agoraphobia. Not that I'm house-bound or anything but sometimes my anxiety is bad enough that it controls what I will do socially. Sometimes, when the anxiety is particularly bad, I don't want to leave the house...but I will. I make myself.

You may be wondering why, even though I know I'm full to piping hot brimming with anxiety, I continue to go undiagnosed and untreated. After all, this is the 21st century and there are pills for that.

The obvious reason is that I don't want to experience better living through chemistry. That sounds ridiculous given that I've encouraged many friends to explore medicinal options for whatever ails them. I've supported and cheered on family members for their own willingness to try a variety of prescription medications for their mental problems.

But for me?

No. Thanks.

I have some excellent natural coping mechanisms for my anxiety...exercise (if that plantar fasciitis would ever go away), meditation, deep breathing...wine if it comes to that.

I also have Lex who, during the worst of it, talks to me. He strips away the layers when I'm hyperventilating - picks up each dust-bunny encrusted layer, holds it up to me as though it's a dirty sock he's picked up off the floor, and asks, "What's this one? Where did it come from? Does it apply?" He does that until I'm soul bare and we can look at whatever is provoking the attack rationally...together. It's rarely much of anything except my own neuroses. And he's right there with me, looking at the situation, evaluating it, and telling me, gently, "It's OK. You're only a little crazy. It's OK. Breathe. It won't hurt...well, maybe a little, but I'm here."

Anyway!

Yeah, so, you know how I have this imminent first date? It's coming up rapidly. And, while we were making arrangements for said date to be held at a restaurant, I started to feel stupid anxious about something so trivial you sane people - or, at least, those of you without anxiety - couldn't even begin to understand.

I started to feel anxious about where, in proximity to the restaurant, we are going to meet. Keep in mind, this is someone I know - have known for years - in real life, face to face.

See, normal people just say, "Hey! Let's meet at Such and Such 'round 2" and y'all meet without further arrangement and it's excellent fun.

Me?

It goes a little something like this: "Should I go in? Should I wait outside? What if he's already inside? What if he's not and HE waits outside while I'm inside?" 


And pretty soon I'm spinning out of control, ready to just pack it in and rush home to my pajama pants and a nonplussed cat.

So...we're making arrangements. And I'm afraid to say much of anything beyond, "Yeah, let's meet at Such and Such 'round 2". Except...I can already feel the anxiety swirling. "What if I'm there early and I don't know if he's already here waiting for me inside?" etc, so forth, ad nauseum.

Finally, I decide to ask if we can be more specific.

And then? A miracle happens. I decide to tell him why I need him to be specific. Because I'm anxious...because I'll worry I'm doing it wrong...because, fine, I'm crazy.

And you know what?

He said, "Just text or call me when you're near and I will be waiting right out front for you."


He didn't even bat an eyelash. Seriously? 


Triple word bonus points.

So...I'm going on this date. And he knows I'm crazy. And he's looking forward to it. 

He just got an extra Super Mario Brothers mushroom. 1 Up. Wow. I don't think that's ever happened to me before.

Thanks, Joe.

The Worms Crawl In, The Worms Crawl Out

I would just like to state, for the record, that I am relatively uncomplicated.

I mean, OK, so I wake up with this in my head on an alarmingly regular basis:



Or this:



And, you know, there was that unfortunate incident yesterday where it was randomly this:



Which, yes, I know is not in keeping with the whole lotta funk going on but hey! RATT, man. It was like...waking up in 1986 except with way better hair.

But mostly? I'm pretty easy (shutup).

I mean, I like simple pleasures. Cheese, for instance. And not even fancy cheese. Extra sharp cheddar will do this girl just fine. Wine too. Not extra sharp but, you know, under $12 a bottle and under $10 if I can get it. I like pajamas...comfortable ones...and I like hands and feet. I love music and I love to wake up to music in my head. I like to write. I like baking cakes and planning supper parties. I like to laugh a lot. I like to drink a lot. I like to kiss and hold hands and touch your face.

And I love to love. You and you and you.

What I don't particularly care for is having someone perceive me as this:

Photo courtesy of Pets Warehouse

See what I did there? Circling "Natural juices locked in the can!"? Because just...ew, man. Fucking ew. Imagine opening up THAT particular can o' worms. And what the hell kind of pet eats worms anyway? That's like watching WTF Japan, seriously videos.

Anyway!

So, yeah. I'm not a can o' worms. I'm direct, sure. I overshare¹. During certain times of the month, I can be a bit of a hormonal wreck. I am quick to laugh...and quick to cry. But mostly? Mostly I'm easy (shutup).

I like to know you like me...for a night, for awhile. I like radical honesty...transparency, if you prefer. I like knowing expectations. I like knowing boundaries. I can promise you'll hear mine.

I can be OK with pretty much anything...as long as I know about it.

And what's wormy about that?

Tell me. I'd like to know.


1: Hello, blog readers just joining us. Please take a moment to look at my various tags. With things like "Why does it all come down to bodily functions" or "My boobs are huge" or "This is why I should not be given sharp, pointy objects" I'm fairly certain you can ascertain that I am not above oversharing.