Sassmouth

Texts from That Time of the Month

Sunday.

Gretchen: I got my period! TELL ME I'M PRETTY.

Joanna: You're so pretty that everyone hates you. Like, a lot.

Gretchen: I want names.

Joanna: Me.

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Monday.

Joanna: I got my period. TELL ME I PRETTY

Gretchen: You are! Your nose is awesome and yer ass won't quit.

Gretchen: I lost four lbs on this, day three. So much blood.

Joanna: The hallway in The Shining.

Gretchen: Redruuuuum

Joanna: Oh my god the carnage in my paaaaaaants

Gretchen: Ryeeeeeet? Seh grehs

Joanna: Is there anything worse than period poop?

Joanna: It's like a Civil War battlefield in the toilet

Joanna: Like there should be a bayonet sticking out of it

Gretchen: No. There isn't. Ewewew

Gretchen: Hlk!

Gretchen: It's like a piece of poop was a person with a soul and organs and stuff and it got brutally murdered in a toilet

Gretchen: Play doh makes a tool called the chocolate popper, which I totes read as chocolate pooper. I can't stop giggling

Joanna: I'm posting this.

 

Offensive and Potentially Triggering Things I Don't Say on Facebook

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My imaginings about what I would like to have happen with an entire Cafette chocolate cake have a disturbing similarity to rape fantasies. 

Like, it wouldn't be my fault. Someone would MAKE me and I would pretend I didn't want to eat that whole fucking cake but SECRETLY IT WOULD BE SO GOOD.

I don't have actual rape fantasies. Just forced cake fantasies.

This article on Jezebel about getting a faceful of hot man-gravy -- well, let me just disagree with the esteemed Mr. Savage on this one. Why does it have to be enjoyable because it's degrading? Why can't it just be GREAT? I feel that way about a lot of things that are supposedly enjoyable because they're so degrading. No, they just feel awesome and some of us are wallowers by constitution -- some of us revel in different physical sensations. Not that there's anything wrong with enjoying degradation, but not everybody is walking around with a little Victorian valise of cultural sexuality baggage. 

(I would like to have one, though. Who knows what might be inside?)

You know what's degrading is making 70 cents on a man's dollar, but that's not what I think about when I party with my Pyrex.*

 

So what don't you post on Facebook, or say in mixed company?

 

 

 

*Why is there no link? Well, you know when you have a plumber in the house and he walks up behind you while you're googling glass dildos? I didn't have time to find the right one. So just imagine. 

 

Recipe for Disaster

Disaster, in this case, being a vaginal yeast infection. If you don't think that's a disaster, you've never suffered an intractable one that resists the best efforts of over-the-counter creams. And not had the time or cash to go to the doctor to get the scrip that might not work anyhow.

The good news: there is a relatively inexpensive and natural way to fight even a really horrible yeast infection. The only side effect is that you'll go on and on, in mixed company, about how great it is that you're finally shed of that horrid yeast, and would you like to hear about it, barkeep?

A word on the OTC creams/suppositories: I have three problems with them. One is that I suspect their greasiness sometimes "seals off" the yeast, leaving a few of the rat bastards stuck to your vaginal wall to multiply again when the barely effective medication wears off. The second is that sometimes they really BURN. And they make a big old mess. Third, they don't do anything to right the imbalance in vaginal pH or flora that caused the problem in the first place. How does cramming a bunch of mineral oil up in your snatch fix ANYTHING? 

Then there's the yogurt school of thought. Which is okay -- partial credit -- but marginally effective. The garlic clove method works a little better but your breath WILL smell like garlic, and garlic kind of kills everything. Plus you've done nothing to correct whatever's gone horribly awry in your vagina.

So. What I'm about to impart to you is hardly a secret -- you can find it in student health brochures and old-school medical professionals know about it -- but it's not widely used, which is a shame. Because it works so darn well.

Here's your shopping list:

• 1 bottle pharmaceutical grade Boric Acid Powder (this is the stuff you want) It can be hard to find -- I have found it at drugstores, one grocery store in the drugstore section, and a vitamin shop-type place. It might be with the opthalmic products, as it's used in making eyewashes as well. Ignore any scary warnings on the bottle -- diluted, you can put it right in your eye. Just don't eat it and you'll be fine.
• 00 Gelatin Capsules (like so) These are easier to find -- most health food stores carry them, and you can sometimes even find them in the bulk section and scoop out however many you want.
• Vinegar-water douche Summer's Eve makes one that's widely available. I mean, you could make your own if you wanted to but they're cheap and they're everywhere. Make sure it doesn't have anything besides vinegar and water and maybe benzoic acid.
• Acidophilus capsules The best ones are sold in a refrigerator case but if that's not an option the room-temp ones are okay -- as long as they're capsules and not solid tablets.

Take your boric acid powder and fill a few of the 00 capsules. About half-full is as good as you're going to get, but amount isn't that important. Set the filled capsules aside. 

Remove the lid from your douche bottle and dump a couple capsules' worth of the acidophilus powder in there. Shake shake shake. Repair to the bathroom and hose things out. "Won't all that vinegar hurt my poor tender ladybits?" you may wonder. The answer is no, it won't, because that part of your body is designed to be acidic anyway. In fact it may even feel soothing to irritated tissues. 

So! Now you've re-acidified your vagina, the bad guys are dying, and you've deposited a bunch of beneficial acid-loving bacteria in there to replace them. Take one of your boric acid capsules and insert it as far up as you can. The capsule will dissolve after a while, and the boric acid powder will leave your body as a whitish goo, so do it before bed and wear your period underpants or a liner of some sort. 

Repeat for 2-3 nights. You can usually get away with douching just once at the beginning of treatment and using only the boric acid capsules the other nights; if you have a really bad one that has resisted other treatments, you might douche, skip a night and just use the capsule, and then douche a third night before you put in your capsule. 

If you are treating preventatively (say, if you're starting a course of antibiotics) you can try just the capsules as well. 

And that's about it. Simple, cheap, easy to do. The hardest part is finding the boric acid powder. Big thanks to Jill for imparting this method to me many years ago. 

 

 

TMI Friday: Open Season

You know what, I started thinking about fixing to answer it well before Friday, but here we are on Saturday and -- hey, I'm actually SIX DAYS EARLY for next TMI Friday. So, yeah. Suck on it. I'm early to the party! Jerks!

So. Here is this week's submission.

Dear Sassmouth: It seems like "monogamish" relationships are cropping up all over the place these days. (It was in Savage Love again last week!) So, um...is this a thing we all have to do now? A guy I like told me that he was into me but that he wasn't ready to sacrifice "variety", and another friend of mine suggested strongly that I consider an open relationship with the guy but I really, really don't like the idea. I don't know if it's my upbringing (conservative Christian) or what, but it makes me uncomfortable. Am I just closed-minded and uptight? Is there something wrong with me that I don't want to share this guy with anyone?

-Signed, One...and Only?

No, sugar, there's nothing wrong with you. And a big bag of dicks to your friend for trying to convince you to do something that you're not comfortable with. Even if it's not with him. I don't take kindly to missionaries (though I've nothing at ALL against the position). If you know in your heart that nonmonogamy ain't for you, then you need to trust that. Don't try to make yourself be something that you aren't -- and it sounds like, in your case, you really aren't. Social conditioning isn't the only reason people want monogamy. That's just how some of us are wired.

The flip side of the coin is, of course, that some of us are wired the other way. And it's quite possible that your friend is wired nonmonogamous, and he just cannot understand why anyone wouldn't want that. (He still needs to shut it, though.)

Monogamy and non-monogamy are, I believe, orientations -- hardwired as any other sexual orientation. That's not to say that they are immutable and invulnerable to social conditioning -- the social consequences of being openly polyamorous, especially if you have children, can be shattering -- but there's always that kernel inside a person. A lot of potentially nonmonogamous people have simply never seriously considered the idea -- or are put off by a huge amount of chatter from the world at large about jealousy and the narrative of that one singular relationship. And again, orientations can shift over time. Sexuality is a far more fluid thing than most of us give it credit for, so I suppose it's a good idea not to discount the possibility that some day you might want to explore a different kind of relationship. But if you do, base it on how you feel, down deep, and not what someone else is telling you to do.

I have a lot of thoughts on monogamy and nonmonogamy from a sociocultural and evolutionary standpoint (read Sex at Dawn and get your mind blown, man, and read Gay Talese's Thy Neighbor's Wife if you feel like wading through an astonishing amount of bias to read some interesting and uncomfortable things about how NOT to make polyamory work), but the important thing here, I guess, is that probably more people are doing it, and doing it successfully, than most of us realize (according to good old Dan Savage, and he assures us we'll hear more about it in a future column) and that it (like pretty much everything in life and relationships) requires absolute frankness and full disclosure -- and constant checking in. And like pretty much anything else involving sex, it isn't for everyone -- and you should never let someone push you into doing something you feel is wrong for you.

So why would someone want to do it? What are the benefits and how does a couple (plus) make it work? And hey, just how prevalent is this? The internet is, unsurprisingly, chock full of information about the first three questions but the last one, who can say. I'm more interested in what this small pool of people reading the blog have to say -- both about the question and about the issue in general. Feel free to comment anonymously if it suits your needs. Does the practice appall you? Intrigue you? Does it work for you, or did you try and find it to be an utter fail? 

*An important note: this is NOT, I repeat NOT, about cheating -- about lying and deception and dishonesty. Because I think we can all agree that that's just shitty. And devastating. This is consensual, honest, all-parties-aware nonmonogamy we're talking about here.

 

 

What is the Sound of One Blogger Blogging?

THIS SOUND, MOTHERFUCKERS.

My sisters have this problem, dig. They don't know that in order to be a Truly Successful Blogger you just have to shit out a bunch of words, just completely turn off the part of the brain between the thinky part and the mouth part (or in this case the hand part) and inflict yourself filterless upon the internet. And trust that the net of your inherent awesomeness will make the post worth reading. Y'all are agonizing over not having anything to say or wanting to get a post in shape and to that I say, FFPPBBBTTTTT! 

That is a fart noise. By the by.

Listen! I will tell you some things.

- I think of myself as having had a pretty good childhood. This good childhood sometimes involved being dropped off at Dad's house and having to play in the backyard until he finished sleeping it off and woke up enough to hear us pounding at the door to be let in. It also involved a lot of dangerous unsupervised activity outdoors. And crawdads. And turtles. It was fucking great. Yeah, we all came out with some dings and scrapes in this family. But it could have been a whole lot worse. We might have had to stay indoors.

Note: I speak only for myself, because those 2.5 or 5.5 years between me and each sister were filled with interesting happenings, and each child in a family gets a different set of parents, you know? I had it a lot easier than both sisters in a lot of ways. And I was mostly growned up before Awful Ex-Stepfather became a factor. But you know what I didn't have growing up? An AWSEOME OLDER SISTER. So in some ways I GOT SCREWED. You guys owe me big at Christmas.* Cashay de la Monay, ladies.

- I have no idea what I look like. Every picture is a shock to me. My body has changed so drastically in so many ways over the past decade that my self-concept just hasn't caught up. And shoot, my face has changed pretty radically too, what with the skull-sawing surgery. So despite the fact that I cannot pass a mirror without preening and posing, I don't think I could pick my own body out of a lineup. Well, except for the tattoos.

- One of which I am currently having removed. Think hard, nubile firm-breasted youngsters, before you put anything permanently on your tit. Especially anything that will be obviously slanted once the inevitable journey south-by-southwest begins. Or southeast, depending on the side. Anyway, lasers hurt! Worse than a tattoo! And you will blister and peel and it is expensive.

Actually, lasers hurt most people. I have crazy good pain tolerance or something, or at least some good training from all the baby-having. Birthing from Within = Bene Gesserit training. Also useful for distance running. 

- I do have excellent pain tolerance. Can sit motionless with no breaks for extensive tattooing (or removing), deal with awful dental work, have successfully removed broken pencil tip from deep within heel (every time I grabbed the lead with the tweezers it powdered and scooted deeper into the flesh!). But I cannot STAND to wear a coat in a car, as it both makes me too hot and restricts my motion ever so slightly. I have a toddler meltdown/rage storm/panic attack if I forget to take it off before I'm buckled in.

- I am REAL FUCKING TIRED of talking about myself because I? Am the LEAST INTERESTING of the three of us right now. So one of you high-standards-having mofos needs to step the fuck up and TYPE something before I start putting up all those pictures I have of you playing Naked Tea Party.**

*Yes, I am Jewish, but you? Are not. You give me present. I give you latke. Maybe cheap chocolate coin. That is how it goes. 

**The ones from 1985, not the ones from last summer. 

TMI Friday, Weekend Edition

Dear Sassmouth Sisters- 
I need your help! There is a strange woman (a neighborhood mom) who has cyber stalked both my husband and now one of my best friends. I get a paranoid but not unjustified feeling that this woman has some sort of obsession with me or my husband. Let me give you some back story. This woman whom I barely know but sent her kids to the same daycare contacted my husband on both linkedin and Facebook. He had never had a conversation with her other than the polite hello you say to parents you pass in the hall and I barely know her either but i had accepted a FB friend request. The messages were about him referring her to a position at his firm and they were long winded (she discussed a lot of what they have in common based on his profile...even though we don't see the similarities.) He felt uncomfortable and politely (but awkwardly!) told her he could not refer someone he didn't know! She then sent him a Facebook request and said in the request message that she was more or less as chatty as me...strange! He declined the invitation and we were both a little freaked out at the weirdness of it all. I then noticed that she had looked through a lot of my old albums on FB and had "liked" pictures of my husband. I have since blocked her from seeing any of my info. A week later when we went to meet my sons teacher before school started, the teacher said to us. " oh I have heard all about your son! He is good friends with ----(her kid)". We have never had a playdate but my kid does know him from preschool although they were never good friends. This woman has an open marriage and both her and her husband (who is even weirder!) have been seen around the neighborhood holding hands with other people. Hey...to each his own but just think its an important detail because it shows that she could have interest with my hubby. She has since sent some strange FB messages to my good friend who she doesn't know at all (but knows she is one of my besties) inviting her kid to her kids b-day party. My friend politely declined and she got a mean message back.

So here's my dilemma. My son is in the same class with her son and my kid is very friendly. He likes almost everyone and makes friends super easy. I love this about him and would never want him to treat another kid badly just because someone is a little strange. (yes her kid is super strange too). BUT I also don't want my kid going over to their house. They are not good friends but her kid keeps inviting my kid over for a playdate and I keep making excuses....I have also overheard the mother telling her kid to chase after us and ask us where we are going. How do I address this with my kid? I don't want him to know that I think this kids parents are too weird to trust my kid at their house...but I also really don't want these people to be involved in our life. I swear I'm not a bitch ( most of the time!) and I hate popularity BS but all my maternal and personal instincts are raising HUGE red flags that something is not right here!!! I'm telling you...if you read the messages you would know this is not a mentally healthy person I'm dealing with! Advice please! Thanks!

Joanna:

Oh my hell, girlfriend. I don't need to read the messages to smell the crazy on this one. And I'm really, really glad you didn't ask how to handle the whole situation because YIKES is that way above my pay grade. Although it might be worth mentioning the situation and your misgivings to the teachers, just so everyone is clear that your two families aren't BFFs and that there is to be no offhand sharing about you guys with Unstable Lady, as often occurs in a close-knit school.

So how to handle with the kid? That's hard, because as you said, you don't want to give him the impression that all weirdos must be shunned (although the likelihood of that happening is probably pretty low). You also don't want to say anything that he might, in innocence, repeat to the other child.

It's possible your son might save you the trouble of figuring out what to do, though -- have you talked to him about this kid, and whether he (your son) is interested in getting together? It might be an opportunity to focus on how we always need to be kind to other people, but not everyone has to be your best friend. If he pressed you on the matter, would your son be receptive to something along the lines of, "I'd rather we spent our time playing with your friends X___ and Z___" ?

And when the kid or his mother asks your son for a playdate, just keep on refusing -- politely, but firmly -- and don't bother with an excuse (which inevitably leads to questions or further invitations). Just, "No, I'm sorry!" and "Thanks for asking, but no, we simply can't." No explanation necessary. Just no, and no, and no. It may not stop the invitations coming, but at least it's polite!

I've Got the World on a String

Joanna:

My reproductive years have been divided pretty evenly between taking sensible precautions NOT to get pregnant and feeling like a total chump for ever passing up any opportunity TO get pregnant as I found myself injecting synthetic hormones into the fat where my jeans dig in if I sit down too long. "I'll never use birth control again, and just take as many as I get," I proclaimed confidently, assuming that might total zero, or possibly one. 

For a long time that was working pretty well, what with all the subfertility, and then when Sophia was two, a mere couple months after my period returned (I know, right?! Talk about your lactational amenorrhea), I popped a second pink line and whaddaya know, it stuck. And is currently wearing footie pajamas with penguins, and insisting on one more drink of water. 

And then my period came back even sooner this time -- eighteen months, a mere eyeblink for me -- and it got regular. And stayed regular. Turns out all those things I do to manage my PCOS -- taking metformin, eating mostly protein and vegetables and healthy fats, exercising -- well, they actually WORK. So hey, my bloodwork looks great and now I have regular periods without pharmaceutical assistance for the first time since EVER, and maybe this is the height of hubris but I kind of feel like if I wanted to get knocked up it might conceivably (har!) happen. 

Except now I got some shit I need to take care of. Like finish my prereqs and get into nursing school and GO to nursing school and once in a while wipe my ass without an audience. And babies have a way of interfering with all of those activities. Because of my history of hellish reactions to exogenous hormones (from the Pill to the subcutaneous shots, I FEEL IT ALL) I didn't want any of the hormonal methods of birth control. Which left barriers and IUDs.

Oh, did I mention my history of ectopic pregnancy? Used to be that disqualified you for an IUD. So we bought condoms and then I came up with a million reasons that we didn't need to use one JUST THIS ONCE IT WILL TOTALLY BE FINE so I asked for a cervical cap and they don't make those anymore and so I got a diaphragm and had to chase all the fuck around town looking for one BIG ENOUGH FOR MY GIANT CUNT and then I think it might've actually been a little too big. At any rate it was always uncomfortable. For everyone involved. Especially all the pharmacists I harrassed.

Also? Some men are very sensitive to spermicides.  

I had resigned myself to monthly nail-biting sessions when a good buddy pointed out that the IUD recommendations had been updated recently, meaning that even with my history of ectopic pregnancy I could convince a nice lady to shoehorn a little copper T into my ladyparts. The putting-in was just fine, and the bleeding wasn't a big deal. I expected a couple heavy months. I did NOT expect the string to have to be readjusted by an unpleasantly surprised husband as often as it needed -- although now that I mention it, it's been a while since it was a problem -- and even months later I still reliably have midcycle bleeding. Not spotting, either. BLEEDING. For a couple days. Which is not cool but preferable to the alternative of BABIES. I forget about it when it isn't happening so I never do anything about it and just deal. Periods are pretty normal by now, though.

So. Yeah. Hormone-free Paragard works for me. It does highlight the relative paucity of options, though -- there's not really much variety. There are hormones, there are barriers/spermicides, and then there's copper. (Mirena counts as hormones in my book.) If you are in a position to require contraception (for example, nekkid on your back with your heels to the sky), have you found something that works well for both parties? 

Gretchen:

My period returned at a whopping 6 weeks postpartum with both babies.  I have never in my life used any form of birth control other than the occasional condom (oh, shut up) and knowing when I ovulate (I am so regular, it's stupid).  So I've decided to go on Mirena (my periods have always been excruciatingly painful and heavy) and would love to hear of any experience with it.

A Married Person Tells You How to Get Divorced

Allow me to preface this by stating that I have never been divorced. But since my own life is lacking in dramatics and that particular flavor of conflict, I have been able to devote a not insignificant amount of time and energy to observing the divorces of others. Some might condemn my interest as prurient, rubbernecking even, but hey, you people are the ones who call me on the phone and the facebook and tell me shit. As an Impartial Observer of All Y'all's Divorces, I would like to offer the following handy tips:

1. Don't even try to be friendly with Ex. Yeah, yeah, it's the nineties and shit and it doesn't have to beeee like that with the animosity but guess what? IT'S GONNA BE. It's gonna be that way for a while, in fact. And the more you try to be reasonable and rational and fifty-fifty and even-handed, the longer you will draw out the unpleasant angry ugly phase. The more opportunities you give your ex to be a douchebag, the more he or she will BE A DOUCHEBAG. And by "opportunity" I mean "slightest chance to disappoint you or your children or not show up as agreed or refuse to do anything not mandated by law or even some things that are."  
   
    
2. Ditto Ex's family, unless there is a significant family divide of the type that results in convoluted letters to advice columnists and everybody is cutting Ex out of their wills and inserting you. These people are, more likely than not, the people who helped make Ex the way he or she is, so not only do they know all the same shitty tricks, they've been practicing a LOT longer.  
   
    
3. Never argue. Never. Ex and probably some of his or her family will be watching your every behavior for the opportunity to start a fight -- did you maybe nod towards a person of the opposite sex? Then you are a whore who takes in gentleman callers in front of your children, who will soon be removed from your care! Did you go out for fries with a friend while your children were left in the care of their loving in-laws? Then...see above. Also you abandoned your children. House getting a little messy? See all of the above and then add in Child Protective Services for living in filth.
   
   They will pounce on any chance to prey upon your insecurities. They want to draw you into an argument because it gives them the opportunity to show off their making-you-miserable chops and because as soon as you're in it, they've won. There is NO winning for you. You cannot win an argument with Ex, no matter how righteous you are -- and the second you start trying, you're at a disadvantage. The only way to get out successfully is to refuse to engage. Delete the text. Delete the email. Hang up the phone. Turn on your heel and walk away.
   
    
4. Cut them off sooner rather than later if their behavior proves troublesome. I don't mean interfere with custody or anything like that; I mean, if ex-Grampa is giving you shit, then he sees his granddaughters on Ex's time and not on yours. If Ex can't be respectful to you, then ex interacts through your lawyer. Does it sound extreme to do that if Ex is just being a whiny little shit like he/she always was the whole time you were together? Maybe. But I'm right. Trust.
   
   
   
5. Prepare to be disappointed at every turn. Alternately, have zero expectations. Need a weekend to care for a dying grandparent? Don't expect any favors from ex -- and by "favors" I mean switching weekends or ceding as little as an hour of child care in order to help you. Did Ex agree to come over to take a kid to the park? Be ready for Ex to show up long enough to throw a coloring book at the child and then have to disappear on "urgent business" (read: booty call). Or just not to show up at all, leaving you to explain to the child.
   
   
   
6. Steel yourself to be hurt on behalf of your children, again and again. Because Ex doesn't feel like paying the child support on time (because you're just going to spend it on whiskey and red shoes!) and they get to eat ketchup sandwiches for dinner again. Because they are so obviously not a priority in Ex's day as evidenced by the string of broken "dates" or shuffled custody plans -- and yet those kids still need and love that parent and believe, every time, that Ex is coming over just like he or she said.
   
   Because Ex is willing to let them down again and again, just to get under your skin. The fact that they have feelings just doesn't even register in Ex's rush to piss you off or hurt you or inconvenience you. And somehow that is even more heartbreaking. 
   
    
7. It's possible that if you follow all those tips, some years down the road, you will have the comfortable, friendly, reasonable, rational divorced relationship you thought you could have. It's been done. But in the majority of cases I have personally dealt with, that peace only comes after years of really heavy boundary-drawing. So why wait? Start demarcating those lines right away. At best you'll end up with something that works down the road; at worst you will have made your reputation as someone who is not to be trifled with -- even if that doesn't change the day-to-day terms of your existence. 
   
   

Did I describe your divorce or breakup? Not on purpose. The examples I used, I only used if I had heard them from more than two people. More than two. I hear the same story again, and again, and again. Who are these shitty people and why are they marrying my friends in the first place? And is there some book they've all read?

Maybe you had a good divorce. Maybe you're one of the lucky few who can jump right to the peaceful phase. That's wonderful and I am genuinely happy for you. But don't assume you will be among them, no matter how willing to compromise you might be. It's so much easier to move the boundary back than it is to push forward belatedly. I'm not suggesting being combative or argumentative -- just be prepared for the other party to be. Just be firm. Be clear about your limits. Prepare for the worst. And for the love of god, remember that the argument is always a quagmire. 

Tuesday Night Tales: What Vermeer Never Painted

Once upon a time, there was a young woman who looooved her some hallucinogens. She loved them SO MUCH that she would do almost anything to experience their swirly pulsating charms -- even it if meant forgoing a reasonable sleep schedule. And that girl had a sister and a friend and that sister had an apartment and that friend had some connections that necessitated an eleven p.m. drive into the suburbs of Richmond to procure a few precious squares of blotter and you know what, why wait until tomorrow? When we could drop that shit toNIGHT, bitches? 

Yeah, it was midnight before they got back to that apartment. But they were young and must not have had jobs to go to the next day so put some sugar on that tongue, girl. At one point it seemed like a great idea to jump up and down! A lot! It was like flying! And the next day the young woman's knees felt like they were full of ground glass but it was totally worth it.

So in this apartment, the refrigerator was located at the end of a blind corridor exactly six inches wider that the refrigerator, and there was a seven-foot-high window that let in the light of the brightening dawn, and that light slanted golden into that corridor, dust motes dancing, sparkling, and the golden light on the ivory walls and the dark heavy moulding was like a Vermeer painting, rich with impeccably rendered detail and the heartbreaking light, oh god, the LIGHT.

And the young woman and her sister and her friend stood transfixed at the vision of an Old Master's painting right there in the apartment, the mind-bending improbability and yet undeniable rightness of the dingy refrigerator in that golden, golden light, the illusion of timelessness in a dead-end hallway, a painting come to life, the rising sun beaming through begrimed glass onto...onto...

"Wait a minute," said the sister, squinting into the corridor.  One solitary aqua can stood atop the ancient refrigerator, shattering the sepia dream into a million oh-holy-fuck-I'm-so-tired-of-tripping-where-is-the-goddamned-weed shards. Summoning the last of her discernment and disbelief she spat the words, "Vermeer never painted FRESCA." 

 

 

Tell Me Something Good

I'm trying to memorize a whole chapter of my Anatomy and Physiology textbook about digestion, but I'm getting all tripped up on the section about salivary glycoproteins. You know, mucins? That are, and I quote, "primarily responsible for the lubricating action of saliva?"

Yeah, so guess what I'm thinking about.

There are lots of heavy topics I want to get into -- the cost, for a woman, of speaking frankly and explicitly (and, okay, with obvious relish) about sex; sex ed in the home (you're going to need to sign this permission slip before your teenagers are allowed to have dinner at our house); some other things I have banging around in my head. But damn, I am exhausted and I have a lot of studying and busywork to complete before Tuesday evening. And I would love to know what y'all would like to talk about. 

So tell me something good. Or something interesting. Or something confounding. Give us a little to go on and we'll sass you back, but I think the Sassmouth girls are pretty tapped out right now.