My Mood Dramatically Improves

When I got home today, there was a small box in the mail from the Wayward Boy Scout.


A note that says only “Follow your dream” and six yellow, smiley-faced ping pong balls.

He’d already set the bar dramatically high as far as establishing what fun things Tiny Cat Pants readers might do with me, and now?

Now he’s sent me the best gift ever.

My readers rock, even the ones who vote Republican.


Lexington Barbecue

That’s what I’d have to eat as my first lunch as a free woman–Lexington barbecue–, if I were to get into my car this evening and decline to go home.

I’d get the slaw on the meat, because, Christ Jesus, that’s where it goes. And the crinkly fries.

And by tomorrow or the next day, I’d be sitting on the beach watching the ocean, just me and the gulls and the few locals who wandered out to see who would bother to drive out to the outer banks at this time of year.

Sometimes, I just get tired of being predictable. Of course I’ll go to work and come home and let out the dog and bring in the cats and go to bed and get up and do it again and again and again. I’ll continue to bitch about the shit I always bitch about. I’ll be here tomorrow and the next day and the day after that.

I’ve got shit to do and stuff and folks depend on me. I can’t just cut and run. But…

Ha, maybe it’s a good thing I don’t have the car that often.

Hours of Emotional and Mental Preparation?

Could this day get any better? First, I have the car. Second, the Butcher is cleaning the living room, which will hopefully get rid of the weird smell. And third, from Harper’s, via Broadsheet, this gem from the government’s abstinence-only materials:

While a man needs little or no preparation for sex, a woman often needs hours of emotional and mental preparation.

5 Major Needs of Women: Affection, Conversation, Honesty and Openness, Financial Support, Family Commitment

5 Major Needs of Men: Sexual Fulfillment, Recreational Companionship, Physical Attractiveness, Admiration, Domestic Support

No, wait, it gets better:

Sexual relationships often lower the self-respect of both partners–one feeling used, the other feeling like the user. Emotional pain can cause a downward spiral, leading to intense feelings of worthlessness.

Anyway, go check it out for yourself.

Dad Wants to Talk about the Men in my Life

So, my dad called me up last night to ask me about the men I met at the park.

“What?” I asked.

“Your mother said you met some men at the park and that they took you to dinner last week.”

Now, here’s the thing about my mom. She just makes shit up. I mean, she uses real facts–like I know some guys, I go to the park, and I go out to dinner when I can swing it–but she puts them together in ways so interesting that you’d think anyone she was talking about would barely have time to sleep or work*.

“Mom told you I was dating two guys? Is this still about Thanksgiving?”

“Those drunk gay guys that called you? No, not them.”


“Your mother said they were partners.”


I hear my mom in the background yelling, “They were drunk? I thought they had Parkinson’s.”

“What?” I ask again.

“Oh, Parkinson’s,” my dad says. “Not partners.”

“You always accuse me of making up stories and how can you know if I’m making things up when you never listen to what I’m saying?”

“Why should I listen to what you’re saying when you’re always making things up?”

“Anyway,” I interject.

“Okay, listen, you need to be a cheap date. When I met your mom, we went on three dates. I took her to the movies. And I took her out to eat a couple of times and then she said we should get married. And I figured, she had bad eye-sight and a teaching contract, I could do worse. So, we got married.”

“I thought you got married so quickly** because you didn’t believe in premarital sex and Mom had needs.”

“Who told you that?”


“Well, there you go. Your mother’s always making things up.”

* I just realized that my mom would make an awesome blogger.
**They met in September of 1968 and were married in June of 1969.

You Might Not Be a Redneck

Comedy Central is playing “Blue Collar Comedy Rides Again” at this very minute. I flipped by and was reminded of David Cross’s eviceration of “Larry the Cable Guy,” who, it turns out, is not even really named Larry.

Yep, he’s pretending to be a good ole boy. Cross explains:

But you also specifically dumb down your speech while making hundreds of purposefully grammatical errors. How do I know this? It’s on page 17 of your book wherein you describe how you would “Larry” up your commentaries for radio. What does it mean to “Larry” something up? Take a wild guess. The reason you feel the need to “Larry” something up? Because you are not that dumb. I mean you, Dan Whitney, the guy who’s name the bank account is under. You were born and raised in Nebraska (hardly The South), went to private school and moved to Florida when you were 16.

That bugs me.

I don’t know why. I guess if Larry the Cable Guy’s audience doesn’t feel like he’s making fun of them, if they think he’s laughing with them, not at them, I guess it’s not my business.

But it still bugs.