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.