2005-01-11 
 

dirty swedish maids

Yes it's late, but I can't sleep. Checked my stats for the first time in a couple months and People, you might want to stay inside. It's getting a bit odd out there.

Or maybe you want to go out in it. Who am I to judge your kink? Lord knows I've got a few of my own. Warning: I feel this post taking a turn in a direction I would normally block and send over to the backroom, but I'm tired of trying to keep it PG all the time. Backrooms are for X, not PG-13 or R. I suggest that anyone feeling a bit of trepidation right now should scroll quickly past the rest of this Tuesday entry below and read Monday's entry instead. A nice and quiet entry about Australian candy. (Although, I've already been told it was oddly subversive. Go figure.)

Anyhoo, my stats engine lets me know what search strings bring folks to my little hole in cyberspace. Faves of the past 30 days:

dirty swedish maids
edwardian masters and maids
strange love facts
hen strange love
st barts marijuana
tests on if you and you boyfriend still love each other

Honey, if you gotta take a test to find out, I'm doubting that you did in the first place...and while I'm meowing, let me add that it's "YOUR boyfriend" not "you boyfriend."

Hey! Who let the queen out? (whoot, whoot...ah whatever)

My favorite string so far this month: animals that begin with b. So Sesame Street and kinda sweet, but also troubling for a moment or two.

I do worry about kids stumbling in here unaware. Little kids, not teenagers. Hold on a second while I get up on my soapbox and slalom the topic a bit. Steady...okay.

I honestly feel that people don't give teens the credit they deserve. I read Portnoy's Complaint and Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up to Me at age 12. Both contained rather adult subject matter, but like most teens I dealt with what I understood and stored the rest away for future referencing. Now I'm not saying to hook your kids up with these books, especially not at age 12. However, should you find them lying by the kids bed it's time for a conversation and not a scolding...you might also want to prepare them for their future as an English Major...but I digress.

For me, those books, and several other items I found in my parent's collection, kept me from killing myself as a teen. Portnoy, and a mild addiction to the Playboy Advisor, convinced me there'd be no blindness or hair growing on my palms due to my shameful addiction...or from the images I conjured up while indulging in it. (In fact, after enough backlogging through old Advisor columns, I learned that my shameful addiction was actually quite normal. A wonderful spot of calm hope in my otherwise anxious existence.)

Unintentially, Portnoy's, also glamorized therapy. When I eventually lay on the couch myself, the eventual acceptance of surviving abuse had the added bonus of leaving my innerGoth feeling like a true antihero.

Been Down So Long was mostly indeciphrable to me the first time I read through it, but I came away with the sense that everything would be alright if I could only make it to college. For anyone familiar with the book that may seem a strange takeaway, but it was mine and it kept me holding on to life through some tough years. Getting older meant I'd finally get to do things my way and be true to myself and, as an added bonus, college was a place that the mouthbreathers from school wouldn't make it into.

Aside: I actually met a dear friend in college with whom I still have a Pooh/Piglet connection. Radically different from the one in the book, although we did do acid together once...and oh the tea!

And we return you to your regularly scheduled blog: So I've decided that I'm going to trust the internet powers that be and responsible parenting to filter my site away from impressionable young eyes, because while I've been pretty good at keeping myself PG, I have occasionally faltered into the PG-13, or even (GASP) the rare R. Apologies to the more sensitive of you but self censorship of that sort makes me itch, and I'm stopping it right now.

Never fear, X will remain firmly in the backroom with the other consenting adults, but I'm not escorting R out of the room anymore should she make an appearance.

All that being said, let me leave you with a favorite string of curse that I stole outright from another college chum long ago and which I still sing quietly to myself when some unsavory character gets too close to me on public transit.

Shit damn fucking damn fucking damn shit.

Please note that normally this is said alltogether as one word, sort of like supercalifragiletcetera. Shitdamnfuckingdamnfuckingdamnshit. I've just added in the spaces above to help those content advisors filter me out.

Refreshing!

Labels: blogging, dose of mikey, memory lane, reading

* posted by me at 3:24 AM

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