I pride myself in maintaining a diverse household, and my dog is no exception.

Babylon (Baby, Bobo) is a pure-bred, upper middle class show dog and firmly established laissez-faire venture capitalist. He considers himself the direct descendant of Italian nobility (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Volpino_Italiano) , and a true Republican by the grace of God. He is also a closet homosexual.

Among his many money making initiatives are the following:

(1) Au de Bobo- a perfume line based on his doggy breath. Au de Bobo, by most critics’ accounts, failed on three counts. First (foremost?), the scent itself was putrid, rancid, and crippling to the human sense palate.  Second, Au de Bobo was (arguably? God knows Bobo still argues it) overpriced at $100 USD for a 4 oz. bottle. Lastly, when Bobo undertook surgery to remove the teeth harboring the decay and infection fermenting the scent, he inadvertently removed the creative source of his genius (think of J.Lo, minus her phat-fine-a**). Bobo had invested millions in this initial venture and subsequently went into a deep, dark depression–which would  ultimately lead to his next economic scheme:

(2) Poster Child for a pharmaceutical line being introduced to treat DD (doggy depression) in pets. Bobo, of course, refused to participate in the clinical trials (knowing full well the mastermind behind the drugs had no formal training in chemistry, pharmaceuticals, medicine, health and well-being, pets, etc.). However, he agreed to contractually obligate himself to being photographed as the Poster Child for the brand, permitting several photographs to be taken and released for DD’s media blitz/brand launch. However, Bobo would once again be slapped in the face with financial disappointment when his payment came not in the form of hard earned wads of sweaty cash, but instead in the form of Chef Micheal’s brand doggy food. What is more, things would later heat up in court over the disputed rights to a number of photos from an ‘undisclosed shoot’ the company threatened to release. While Bobo insisted the shoot resulted in, ‘only the most tasteful of nudes’, he nevertheless reprimanded the company for not acquiring formal approval (and providing proper compensation) for the release of these additional photos, per their ‘gentleman’s agreement.’ Needless to say, this whole  scandal resulted in more bad publicity for the young Hans Bobenstein, and coupled with another severe bout of depression, led to very little in the way of work…and much on the reliance of what little capital Bobo had accrued financially (in the form of a month’s supply of Chef Michael’s and a lifetime supply of black-market DD pharmaceutical pills) for his nutritional and emotional sustenance. The result? Babylon became chemically addicted to not only the pills of a failed clinical study, but to a high-end doggy food brand he couldn’t afford.

To Be Continued…

his words are mangled and floating
in mindless meandering of mine
it was so lovely     he could see her quintessentially
 could articulate so eloquently      appreciate so sincerely
the creative beauty inherent in her insidious web

-Dolly Parton

-Arthur Schopenhauer

I peek ahead

2010.12.12

when I start to get bored
and I did it again
and now I know
I'm coming to the end
of another chapter.

Addiction

2010.12.10

Me: I just think I have an addictive personality, so I just stay away from most things..

Cary: No, yeah. I feel you. I’m sorta the same way–it’s like when I’m twirling pubic hairs..

Me: I’m going to stop you right there—-and probably quote you later.

It’s freezing in my house right now, but I’m being a total cheap ass and seeing how long I can make it without turning on heat –see if I can’t get that JEA bill down, y’know.  Anyways, like most peeps, it’s always ‘my nosie, toe-ee’s, and fing-fings’ that get icy first so I try and sap warmth from those around me by being so-super-cute and acting like I’m cuddling. Yesterday, I decided to pull these moves on Sean. Mind you, I have a bad habit of digging my toe-ee’s under people’s butts for warmth (FYI you don’t have to be particularly close to me– literally or figuratively–for this scenario to unfold). Once toe-ee’s have slithered into place under the radar of detection, I begin wiggling em around to generate the heat that then runs my whole system (one of a handful of unique evolutionary adaptations that make me a poster child for natural selection). Okay, but back to story, so I dug my toe-ee’s under Sean and began wiggling (very slowly and sporadically at first to avoid detection) and then began to pick up speed methodically until I’m closing in on (roughly) twenty to thirty wiggles per minute (which I have found is about optimal for sustained operation in the 30-50 degree (F) temperature ranges). I must have been a little overzealous though, b/c Sean caught me like twenty seconds into the act–

S: What the hell, Marebear? You’re feet are f***n freezing!

M: (muster up cutesy, feminine voice I’ve been working on in case of just such an obstacle) It’s not me, Sean–it’s my toe-ee’s, they are trying to get warm! My nosie is cold too! And well, I just assumed you would want to help keep my toe-ee’s and nosie warmy for me?

S: Well, you know what they say about assssuummmmmingggg, right?

M: No, (this isn’t going to be good–just got to buy time) what do they say (voiced with feigned intrigue at the opportunity of being imparted with any new parcel of knowledge by my male friend)? If I can by just 15-25 more seconds, all systems will be a go..

S: It makes an ‘asssssssssss’ out of ‘uuuuuuu’ n ‘mmmmeeeeeee’.

::Mission Aborted::

Ungrateful Heathen

2010.12.10

Cary's farewell note, left on my kitchen table on the morn of her departure:
Marebear-Seanie,
Thanks for the time.
 You guys are the worst hosts ever, make no mistakes.
 See you in hell!
-Cary
(insert poorly scribed scene of one stick figure getting butt-f***d by another stick figure)

Shits and Giggles

2010.12.10

I was really thinking about this expression–i.e. ‘I’m just doing this for shits and giggles’. It’s odd, right?–but I know I’m not the only one who says this…I think. Am I the only one who says this? The giggles part is cute–sorta, depending on context. What situation would provoke both phenomena simultaneously? Off the top of my head, I really can’t say. This is probably an(other) idiom I have managed to learn wrong (see below). That said, I don’t plan on living through the past (if you know what I mean-wink, wink–nudge, nudge–wink, nudge, etc.) sooooo I’m not saying this one anymore until I do a fact-check!

here’s the marebear idiom list to date (non-exhaustive):

‘keep your eyes pierced.’ (keep your eyes peeled)

‘that’s a steal even at 1/2 the price!!!’

‘another caseless point’ (case in point)

‘if it’s good enough for the goose, count me in’ (good for the goose, good for the gander)

‘breaking your asshole, break your ass’ (busting ass)

‘don’t beat off behind the bush’ (don’t beat around the bush)

‘throw a bone at a dog, why don’t you? (throw a dog a bone)

‘it’s high time!’  (right phrase, wrong context)

‘just got to get my foot through the door’ (get one’s foot in the door….this one surprised me too)

Perfunctory means superficial (e.g.  he/she only had a very superficial/topical/perfunctory/general level of understanding of the subject matter). That said, the best way to retain new words is not just to have the definition rattled off to you once. What you need is a unique-thought-sentence or memorable-quirky-cute anecdote illustrating the given word and it’s meaning. That said, allow me to draw your attention to the following (1a) unique-thought-sentence and (1b) corresponding memorable-quirky-cute anecdote. Thank me later, b-words..

(1a) I realized I had only a perfunctory understanding of my own perspective regarding my self-image as a result of my very odd dream wherein I was announced the winner of a beauty pageant.

(1b) Here’s what happened, homies. I was fast asleep dreaming my always-G-rated, sweet lil mare-bear dreams only to find myself having transitioned from a dream taking place in some sub shop (where there was no veggie sub on the menu and the sub-maker refused to just make a veggie sub and charge me for like a meatball sub and so I called him a little jizz-bucket–which I wouldn’t usually do–but that’s neither here nor there) to being in line with a bunch of super-fine-hotties in front of a huge audience (which made me nervous-anxious b/c I’m pretty shy and I started thinking I was sweating which made even me more nervous). Anyhoo, I started looking around and finally got a sense (b/c that’s how dreams work) that I was in some kind of beauty pageant and then I hear an announcer-voice building anticipation through his long-winded remark that the winner of the pageant would now be announced then–he calls my name. At this point, having confirmed in my mind that I was indeed in a beauty pageant and that I had just been announced as a the winner my subconscious-mind-stuff immediately inferred that this had to be a freak’n dream and I immediately woke up. What makes this pretty fun to me (as opposed to sorta sad and pathetic) is juxtaposing this situation to the countless dreams wherein I was doing or seeing all kinds of completely impossible scenarios and my subconscious-mind-stuff did NOT register that the experience I was sensing had to be the result of a dream (like how did I just magically go from sub shop to beauty pageant stage); these scenarios include (but are not limited to): playing chess (which I refuse to do in real life, based on principle) with an alligator (I swear), being asked on a date by Rachel Maddow, greeting my mother (with a huge crowd of patriots all waiting to greet her home) upon her return from some war she had been in for several years (and she was fully geared up in military attire with weapons–whole nine yards), and being hired on by Justin Timberlake to write his speeches (what speeches? how the f*** should I know). And no, my friends, none of those wild ass scenarios sent up any red-flags on my Reality-Check-O-Meter. Honestly though, that’s how dreams are–the part of your mind that makes those rational inferences that certain scenarios are entirely improbable given your social-historical situation and what you know about the world around you is maybe the only part of your mind that is actually asleep and resting when you are. So, to bring this full circle, while I like to believe I have a healthy, feminist-informed understanding of any distorted perceptions of my physical self-image (and that I’ve grown out of my angsty-teenage-disdain for it) this dream made me call into question that taken-for-granted assumption and wonder if my understanding of my perceptual relation to my self-image was only perfunctory in nature, and that perhaps there are still issues that need to be explored and unpacked….and not just the -wah-wah-my-daddy-called-me-fat BS. I  have always been of the opinion that dreams are wonderful resources for self-reflexivity–so this anomalous experience ought not be exempt from analysis, I figure.

-lyrics, Neutral Milk Hotel

Morning Invective

2010.12.02

Preliminary Note: I could have just as well substituted the obscure term ‘invective’ (use of abusive language or tone) for the commonplace word ‘exchange’–bbuutttttt I just took the GRE (yes friends, scored a perfect 1600…the rumors are all true…I should know…I started them). Anyhooo, I intend to see to it that you enjoy the intellectual windfall of my (entirely frivolous and convoluted ) vocabulary gain (approximately 200 new words).

Okay, picture it…cool December morning, winter 2010 (about 20 minutes ago in real time)….small (but undeniably quaint) townhouse off the southeast coast…two young amigos, co-habitating because that’s what poor misguided hippies do. Let’s tune in and get a quick snapshot of the overall healthfulness of these two queers’ relationship.

Mary: innocently observing I think you need to brush your hair.

About a fifteen second pause ensues, which ran concurrently with Sean’s death stare-down, then:

Sean: I think you should be a lady…and leave the thinking to me.

Mary: I don’t know if you should be talking to me like that..

Sean: swiftly crosses the diameter of the room, puts his hand gently behind my head, nuzzling it firmly against his chest, he then whispers ever so calmly and quietly into my ear:

What you don’t know….could fill a book.