Much Love To You On Christmas

Hey you guys.  Before I forget or have too much of the Christmas Spirits, I wanted to say thank you for helping contribute to the weirdness that is my life.  Whether it's in a small part, occasionally, or every other Tuesday when I'm on the verge of peeing myself, howling with laughter.  I say it every year, and I mean it just the same; I'm nothing without good friends, laughter, tough love, heated debates, and the occasional pinch on the bum.  Y'all keep the poly in polymath.  Merry Christmas.

The Gift of Loved Ones

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My One Night Stand with the Mexican Farmacia

The only thing that would have made the illusion that the inside of my head is an awful lot like an old school arcade better would be the nostalgic sound of a pinball game in play.  As I was stepping off the low speed treadmill workstation at work this morning, I noticed that my right hip was a bit sore, but not as sore as it could have been, having slept on the equivalent of a queen sized marshmallow overnight.  In years past, if I wasn’t sleeping on some plywood with a couple of cottonballs hot glued to the top of it, I’d be in a world of literal hurt in the morning.  

The Practical Mini

It’s Dec 16th, 2012, and there’s snow falling outside.  Not enough to have to shovel, or to even really stick yet, but the city noise is dampened, and kids out there have their hopes for a white Christmas renewed.  I figured, there’s no better time to go over why I have a Mini Cooper as my daily driver than when people are going to start considering it a foolish choice.

Week of Epic Proportions

The second to last week of October 2010 managed to cram a whole lot of stories into 7 short days.  On the 23rd, my short but intense relationship with Flyboy came to an end when he packed up the stuff I had left at his apartment, delivered them to my house, and told me that he didn’t see me in his life a year from now, much less next month.  I spent that evening in an “is that your bellybutton?” shirt, enjoying a drink or two with some ladies that are dear to me.  By Monday, I was more or less ok.  I’d come to the conclusion that since he was the first thing I could call a relationship I’d had since I’d opted for divorce, that I had been nearly ready to say I love you to the feeling I had around him, not the boy himself.

Which was good, because nobody likes a mopey birthday girl.  I ushered in the big three three two days after being dumped, and without the “bag of shit with penises on it” I had been threatened with if I didn’t tell Flyboy what I wanted.  (He was under the impression that I was only telling him what he wanted to hear when I said I didn’t have anything I wanted or needed, that if he got me something, it would be a pleasant surprise and not a necessity.  Really, I had a 3 bedroom house stuffed to the gills at the time.  I didn’t need anything else and didn’t give a damn about his paycheck.)  I can’t remember what I did to celebrate.  I’m not sure if that means I didn’t do anything, or I just had so much to drink that I blacked out.  Either way, it was the perfect setup for Tuesday when the legal system gave me the best birthday present ever.

The End Is The Beginning Is The End - The Living Wake Saga

Hey everyone, this is Thunderhead, Ephemily's boyfriend.  It is with a heavy heart that I'm writing this status update for you.  Last night Ephemily finally succumbed to the 1812 Overture that had been playing in her head the last few days.  Somewhere between 9:12 and 10:25, she suffered a massive heart attack.  We can only assume she was scared to death by an attack of her EHS after having been on edge and without sleep for the past several days.  I found her unresponsive, and rushed her to Creighton Medical Center, but doctors were unable to save her.  She was declared dead shortly after 1:00AM

I can't express how deeply saddened I am by her passing; she will be utterly missed by myself and her friends and family.  There is a little less leopard print in this world, and we are decidedly worse off for it.

We will be holding a wake for her tomorrow, Saturday, October 27th, at Vivace (1108 Howard St) starting at 6:30 PM.  Please come and visit with everyone and pay your respects as we share stories of Ephemily's (mis)adventures in life.  May she find peace at last in that great sex shop in the sky, where the lube is ever flowing and batteries never run out.

Please note, this will be the final status update I'll be able to post here.  Ephemily left behind explicit instructions regarding her computer hardware (ever the planner), and after I run this giant magnet over every hard drive in the place, I won't be able to access the page again.  Even in death, she refuses to share passwords.

Please join us Saturday evening for a celebration of her life or comment here.

*Disclaimer - This post is part of a series.  It is meant to build up to my party for my 35th birthday and is a work of fiction

Dinner - The Living Wake Saga

I will hold it together. I will hold it together. I will hold it together. How many times do you have to say the same thing in your mind for a lie to yourself to sound like the truth? Family dinner tonight, and I don't want to worry them about this mess in my head. Gotta be on point. Man, I hope they have diet soda with extra caffeine at the restaurant.


*Disclaimer - This post is part of a series.  It is meant to build up to my party for my 35th birthday and is a work of fiction

Sharp Teeth - The Living Wake Saga

Have you ever tried to be polite AND helpful when you’re running on no sleep?  I haven’t gotten a full set of 40 winks under my belt in days.  I’m so frazzled that every time I hear a new explosion, it jolts me to attention and my heart races like I got caught with the neighbor boy in the back of dad’s chevy.  It’s like watching the Hunt for Red October; action sequence, lull.  Action sequence, lull.  Action sequence!  . . . Lull.  Fuck this noise, literally.  I make no promises the be able to hold my tongue today.  You hear that world?  You’ve been warned.

*Disclaimer - This post is part of a series.  It is meant to build up to my party for my 35th birthday and is a work of fiction

Bedtime Longing - The Living Wake Saga

Since my bedroom windows leak like a sieve, I figured it's time to put the flannel sheets on the bed. Now that it's done, all I can do is stand here, staring longingly about the night's sleep I want, but know I won't get. I've been nothing but stressed and sleep deprived for what seems like forever. This wears on a person. I miss you, Mr Sandman. We had such good times together; you, me, and the boys from the car wash fundraiser.

*Disclaimer - This post is part of a series.  It is meant to build up to my party for my 35th birthday and is a work of fiction

Vapors - The Living Wake Saga

The upstairs apartment is being renovated, and there have been loads of workmen tromping through the building. Today, it was re-seal the floor day, apparently.

Fun fact; strong odors give me migraines. And my head is doing its best M80 impression. God dammit. This is torture. *Indignant fist* Cosmos, we're gonna have words as soon as the Vicodin kicks in.

*Disclaimer - This post is part of a series.  It is meant to build up to my party for my 35th birthday and is a work of fiction

The Decline - The Living Wake Saga

Oh, what a beautiful world.  I’m not sure my day could get much worse.  It’s been silent on the cranium front all day.  Well, all day until a few moments ago when I had what sounded like a 5 car pile up happen behind my left eye socket.  I was so shocked, I yelped out a “Motherfucker!” at hockey volume.  Not only did the call center go deathly silent, but the cantankerous biddy I was talking to thought I meant that for her and immediately took offense.  Now she’s on the line with my manager and I just *know* nothing good will come of this.   I mean, Exploding Head Syndrome made me do it?  Come on.  Even *I* think that sounds like the twinkie defense.

This can’t be good for my blood pressure.

*Disclaimer - This post is part of a series.  It is meant to build up to my party for my 35th birthday and is a work of fiction

Dance Party - The Living Wake Saga

What do the noises in my head and “Party Rock Anthem” have in common?  They’re both loud, and have a beat you can dance to.  *bangs on skull*  Hey you in there!  Keep it down already.

*Disclaimer - The following posts about my health for a few days are fake - they're to set the mood for the Living Wake this weekend. Please don't take me seriously.

Morning Commute Music - The Living Wake Sage

I think I'm going to add the William Tell Overture to my morning commute music. I might be playing my theme song on the violin that is my nerves today, but I'm at least going to try and have a sense of humor about it.

*Disclaimer - This post is part of a series.  It is meant to build up to my party for my 35th birthday and is a work of fiction

Rock Me All Night Long - The Living Wake Saga

Apparently, Exploding Heads have no concept of noise ordinances.  All.  Night.  Long.  zzzzzzzz.

*Disclaimer - This post is part of a series.  It is meant to build up to my party for my 35th birthday and is a work of fiction

Research - The Living Wake Saga

You know, when you’ve got some weird kind of thing going on that you just don’t understand, I’m pretty sure WebMD should suddenly be off limits to you.  Come to find out that SSRI withdrawal, which can cause “brain zaps” can also trigger this EHS crap.  I detoxed off Effexor years ago and went through all the pains associated with it, including the sweats and zaps.  Now my overactive imagination has me thinking that this is like an LSD flashback, only a whole lot less fun.  Fuck you SideEffexor!

*Disclaimer - This post is part of a series.  It is meant to build up to my party for my 35th birthday and is a work of fiction

Diagnosis - The Living Wake Saga

I have always said my head was a noisy place.  I say was, because it has apparently exploded.  No, really.  That’s what the doctor said.  When I first told him what was going on, he looked at me like I had two heads.  I had to insist that I only had the one, but it was awfully noisy in there, like sudden, window shaking thunder out of the clear blue sky.  He was dubious, but pulled out his iPad (I love that they have those at Creighton.  Always on the cutting edge!) and after a few “hmmmms” and “interestings” he excused himself for a moment.  When he came back, he said he’d spoken with his colleagues, and they came up with a diagnosis.  Ladies and Gents, it should be so fitting that I have Exploding Head Syndrome.

*Disclaimer - This post is part of a series.  It is meant to build up to my party for my 35th birthday and is a work of fiction

Doctor's Visit - The Living Wake Saga

Grrr.  Forty minutes and $150 later and I’m still sitting in the waiting room.  For this, I’m going to ask for the doctor to look at every single thing that I have questions about. That’s going to be everything from these repeated batman noises *bam!* *kapow!*  *bang!* in my head to whether or not these new brown patches are age spots or cancer.  I’m getting my damn money’s worth.

*Disclaimer - This post is part of a series.  It is meant to build up to my party for my 35th birthday and is a work of fiction

First Attack - The Living Wake Saga

Holy FUCKNUGGETS! Apparently, my inner monologue is celebrating the 4th of July instead of Halloween this year.  I just heard an explosion that was like what the last sound a suicide bomber might hear.   I hit the deck like it was all out war, and my neighbors looked at me like I sprouted a second head for doing so.  They didn't hear a thing.  It happened while Moxie and I were outside and let me tell you, she’s not the only one to crap on the grass this afternoon.  I gotta call a doctor.  Thank goodness my primary care guy has evening hours.  

Man, why couldn't it be voices like any normal crazy person?

*Disclaimer - This post is part of a series.  It is meant to build up to my party for my 35th birthday and is a work of fiction

It Begins - The Living Wake Saga

Ug. Rough day. I really don't feel right. So help me if Web MD tells me I'm going to die again. . . Might be a good day for an early bedtime tonight. Going home from work early, gonna walk the dog, and take some Advil to see if I can shake this.

*Disclaimer - This post is part of a series.  It is meant to build up to my party for my 35th birthday and is a work of fiction.

For My Birthday, I'd Like A Midlife Crisis

For easily the last 18 months, I've had this idea in my head about how I wanted to celebrate my 35th birthday.  I had this fear that my wish would go the way of my 32nd, which I wanted to be my saccharine 32 since I had a sweet 16.  Alas, time, money, and circumstance kept that from becoming a reality.  Which is really too bad.  I mean, I could have kept Deb in business with all the pseudo prom dress sales that would have come out of that.  However, celebrating my mid life crisis with a living wake seems like it's going to be a thing.

Pass the Beer and Banish the Ghost.

From the "This town is so damn small" files, have you ever found yourself in the presence of someone who was a part of your life during some of your lowest moments, years later, only to have them not realize it was you?  There's some real satisfaction in that, isn't there?

Lessons, Doggy-Style

I'm sure you've heard the phrase, "Once you go black, you never go back.".  And it's true.  There's something subconsciously dangerous about them, menacing even.  But, I can tell you for certain, my big love of a black, mixed breed dog is one of my proudest associations.  Moxie has taught me an awful lot over the years, but most of her lessons have come in the last several months.

Canine Houdini

Tally ho!

I grew up in a household where my dad, my sister, and for a while, even I, foxhunted.  I'm talking, dress up in fancy clothes, gussy up your horse, and head out to harvested corn fields in Iowa at the break of dawn, foxhunting.  I say I did it for a time because I frequently was awarded the groundtester achievement.  Meaning I was able to prove gravity was more than a theory on a very consistent basis.  The funny thing about that though is that I managed to hold on for dear life until the horse came to a complete stop.  Only then would I hit the dirt.

My sister continued hunting until a severe back injury put an end to her Sunday morning rides.  My dad, however, still gets up on winter mornings when you can see your breath and hear the turkeys in the fallen corn, scavenging for breakfast to go out and chase the elusive, furry scoundrel.

I tell you about the hunting because it was regular thing around the house.  When it wasn't hunting season, my sister and I would participate in dressage or jumping competitions at the stable where we kept our horses.  (Yes, I was that kid who asked for a pony as a kid and actually got one.)

It was at a horse show when  I was little that we first ran across Jack Russel Terriers.

2:00 AM Paranoia, X-Files Style

I’ve found myself telling this story twice this past weekend, so, I figure it’s time to write it down.  That, and it's a continuation on a theme of rednecks gone wrong.  So, it's a gimme, really.

As a teenager, I was a fan of the X-Files.  I watched the entire first season on the couch with the then love of my life.  For later seasons, I was in college, so I’d catch them when I could.  It was tough since it was on a Friday, but now and again, I managed to catch a new episode.  I’d either find myself in one of the campus lounges, or I’d be perched in my desk chair, craning my neck to see the picture on my tiny 13” TV/VCR combo.  Home was one of those I saw as a first run.

A Very Deliverance Breakfast

After I wrote the sea beaver piece, I was talking to Stumpy about it, and how we've got a bunch of stories that really need to be told.  I think I'll be working on a few of those in upcoming posts.  However, as a followup to the honeymoon sea beaver story, I gotta tell you about my Deliverance Breakfast. 

Contrary to popular myth, there is not a buffet open 24 hours a day on a cruise ship.  They shut down for a few hours each day.  Not many, mind you, but they do.  I guess they eventually have to do dishes, or something.  Now, because Stumpy can't get central standard time out of his head, when his internal alarm hit "breakfast o'clock" he was awake and ready for his pop tart.  Or, whatever he was eating those days.  So, groggy as I was, we tromped up to the Lido deck to get ourselves good and gorged on the breakfast buffet.

Let us not forget that this is the fogey boat, so half the guests have been up for over an hour, and the dining area is a beehive of activity by the time we get there.  The only place we have the option to sit is at a table that makes up half of a two-table booth horseshoe.  Not a problem.  I like people, and I'll talk to anybody.  We'll take it!

Sea Beavers, Bean, Bean, & Ham Soup, & Other Ancedotes

Why I didn't immediately say "Thanks for playing, here's a copy of the home game as a consolation prize." when my now ex-husband said I could call his house and ask for "Stumpy", I'll never know.  True to form, we met online.  I've been meeting people through the tubes since I was a teenager in the 90s.  You know, before the internet when the BBS scene was the geek chic.  He was not so much a geek, he was trying online dating because it's hard to meet women when you're a mechanic.  There aren't a whole lot of women in the car biz.  Oddly enough, that's what we had in common.  I turned wrenches on computers and had worked selling cars when the original .com bubble burst in the early 2000s.  So, we could talk cars.

Lightfooted Linebackers

It had been ages since I've seen my buddy Willis.  Ok, so that's not his real name, but it's what I knew him by in high school.  He was part of a group of friends who played probably more tabletop roleplaying games than was healthy.  (I still credit that to my lack of melanin.  Later, it would be my choice to go into IT.)  Our game of choice was anything that White Wolf produced.  Of course, we were also LARPers.  Yes, we were the kids moping around public parks after sundown, waving boffer weapons and skulking around with Halloween fangs in our mouths.  And we liked it, dammit!

Like I said, it had been ages.  But then, through the 6 degrees of Samurai, we got back in touch recently because of our penchant for standing up in front of people and saying whatever the fuck we wanted to.  It was just tonight, after I was able to usher him to the stage after I was done performing with a throwback "What'chu talkin' 'bout Willis?" that I was reminded that I have a story about the old gang that's just aching to be told.

Humility in Knee Socks

I either learn something new about my fellow Samurai, or have an experience with members of the audience that convince me that I gotta keep doing that whole spoken word thing.  Last night, I got to hear that our own Travis and Dave met at a book signing when Dave was waiting in line to have Jim Butcher sign his latest book.  Travis was there signing one of his novels as well.  Interesting how the world throws us into each others' paths, isn't it?

Later, after the show, as I'm tearing down the setup we've got to stream the event on the internet, two gals come up to me and tell me I'm their hero.  I don't think that's quite sunk in yet, so if you hear a story on the news about a woman passing out in her soup for no good reason, the idea of being a role model finally caught up with me and my brain suffered vapor lock.

I still am seriously not used to the appreciation of the people who come to watch our gigs.  It boggles my mind that people have been to more than one event, remember my schtick, appreciate the plus sized pervert in the mini-dress, or know me as Ephemily before they know what's on my birth certificate.  Shit guys, I do this for fun and because it comes naturally.  I never expected anybody to take me seriously!  Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that you do.  It feels kinda good.  But, I'd do it even if nobody was listening.  Thanks for playing with me so far.  It's a wild ride!

Mouthpiece For a Rant

When I think about fan fic, normally in involves some illicit romance between two characters that have no interest in each other in the original source material.  However, today changed my opinion.  After waking up to a back knotted tighter than a BDSM playroom swing, I gave the world the finger, took the good drugs, and went back to sleep.  When I finally woke for good a few hours later and could manage to sit up without groaning or swearing, I checked my favorite social networking site.  There I found a message from a gentleman I have only had the pleasure of sharing the same space with on two occasions.  Our very own Samurai, Dave Nesbit was actually there to help facilitate the first meeting at the Valentine's Day social for the Steampunk Society two or so years ago. 

In this message, he tells me that he has written a spoken word piece that he thinks I could really give voice to, and asks if I'd be interested in reading it.  Then, a few hours later, he sent the completed story on, asking if I'd let him know what I thought.  I missed the original message, but responded as soon as I could saying, I'd love to read it, and I'd get right on it. 

This is what I was given:

My First Cougar - The Planned Parenthood Experience

Some of you know that I’m a long-time supporter of Planned Parenthood.  I’ve been with my local clinic since I was a teenager.  I’ve seen them through 2 states, 3 clinic locations, and countless checkups, depo boosters, and positive experiences.  I’ve seen all walks of life pass through those doors; scared teenagers, mature women, young men accompanying their girlfriends, and mothers offering support to their daughters.    I have not once felt judged, shamed, intimidated, or unwelcome after passing through those front doors.  I know where the roots of the organization lie.  While I can’t say I endorse all of the things the founders and major contributors stood for, I stand behind their mission as it is today.  I would also gladly confront those who would picket their locations, spread hate and misinformation, or employ harassment and scare tactics to further their agenda based on “moral superiority”.  I fully support Planned Parenthood, and I don’t care who knows it. 

Mini Cooper Owners' Cheat Sheet and FAQ

I am the proud owner of a 2008 Mellow Yellow Mini Cooper whom I have named Donovan.  I joke that not only is my relationship with him the longest, most stable one I’ve had, but that I like to ride him hard and put him away wet.  I’ve had people roll down their windows at stoplights, flag me in parking lots, and corner me in elevators to ask me about him.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ll talk to anybody and I adore the car.  But, I thought perhaps it might save time to have a list of the questions I get asked all in one place.