Monthly Archives: June 2009

feel free to mess with texas

Jesus fucking Christ, this happened – police officers in Fort Worth raided a gay bar on the anniversary of Stonewall.  Are you joking me? Hey Texas (also one of the last states in the Union to have an anti-sodomy law, and actually use it to try to prosecute), go fuck yourself. If you leave in or near Texas, please take one for the team and make a fuss about this. If you don’t live in or near Texas, please do yourself a favor and never go there ever.

PS Sorry this blog has been so angry and also gay lately. I would love to stop focusing on this kind of thing, but it’s hard when it just won’t stop happening. Help keep HeatherandRachel fun and pointless by keeping your local homophobes in check!

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what the hell?

EA is releasing a video game based on Dante’s Inferno.  I don’t know if I want to play it or cry.

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shoot ’em up cowgirl

Thesis Pages: 24

Ohmigod ohmigod this exists. I have no words.

PS Make sure you scroll down far enough to see the “Guns are for fags” one, it’s a winner

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Stuff Rachel Fucking Hates

Oppression. This week, the things that have been most on my mind are Iran (like everyone else) and Stonewall (perhaps not like everyone else.) For me, these things seem to have a lot in common. They concern groups that are vastly different in terms of time, place, and demographic; to be honest, I feel like Stonewall rioters and Iranian protestors might not really get along if put in the same room together. But both groups of people are performing incredibly courageous acts of resistance against pervasive police brutality and unchecked state-sponsored violence; both are fighting tooth and nail for the freedom to make their own choices, even when those choices aren’t approved of by the people in power. Both are groups of people usually seen by the larger world as helpless victims at best, and at worst dangerous to society. (Can you remember any other time we’ve celebrated images of brown Muslim men rioting?) Not to get all Obama-fangirl on you, but I think what he said in his statement the other day is deeply appropriate. To quote Dr. King, “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” Forty years ago almost to the day, there were a series of violent and unprecedented riots by queers in New York City in reaction to years of violence, discrimination, and abuse by police. Today the police cordon off city streets just for us, and their job is to stand on street corners to make sure that no one disrupts Pride or bothers any of the people in it. The President himself used the words gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender on national television when he declared June GLBT Pride Month.  That’s a pretty long fucking way to come. I don’t know for sure what will happen in Iran; I hear a lot of people using the word “revolution,” maybe without thinking through what it means. But I think it’s true that Iran isn’t going to be the same after this, that no one will let it go back to what it was. From here on out things are moving forward. Maybe I’m 20 years old and naive, but I really do believe that there comes a point where people have put up with too much for too long, and they are too sick of it not to make change.  (I am thinking, obviously, of the election debacle, but also of the Iranian government’s cruel and bizarre treatment of its gay citizens, whom are often pressured to change their sex surgically so that their sexuality is “normal”.) And to quote again – JFK this time – “those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable.”  People in power, take heed, and people without power, take heart.

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Stuff Heather Thinks is Super Great

Weird Al’s “Craigslist.” Also, Craigslist.

A Model World, Michael Chabon. By this point it is an automatic reaction to enjoy reading Michael Chabon’s work.  But regardless, the stories in this collection are fascinating technically just because they take place, typically, over one day or event; many of them last only one encounter.  My favorite is probably “S ANGEL,” though the one with Bobby Lazar –– can’t recall the title now –– is really good as well.

“The Dinner Party,” Joshua Ferris. Like the stories in A Model World, this story unfolds during a singular evening.  The way Ferris illustrates an entire marriage through dialogue about babies and couple-friends and Kung Fu Panda is amazing.  I have an official writer-crush on him.

Cats. Specifically: of course my own, who  has taken this hanging-out-with-other-cats thing more in stride than I expected, but also the shelter’s Amigo (a very friendly adult male who, due to nasal congestion, constantly sneezes when awake and snores when asleep) and as-yet-unnamed white kitten (who has a large mysterious wound by its shoulder and likes to push its head against the cage door, purring loudly when you cave and pet it).

Texts from Last Night. Raunchy, personal, bitchy, quirky, usually drunk –– TFLN is wildly inappropriate for work and totally hilarious.  Like looking into someone’s mind, really.  The best ones are conversations, and here’s an example:
” (410): can you sing with all the voices of the mountain? can you paint with al the colors of the windddd
(443): wasted?
(410): im pocohantasssss”

Leave an Idea, Take an Idea. What a good idea!

The sun! Thank you for making an appearance, however late.

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what misfortune

Books down: 10

New additions to the reading list: Julie Hecht’s Happy Trails to You, Gish Jen’s The Love Wife, Russell Greenan’s It Happened in Boston?

I finished reading The House on Fortune Street.  Because Rachel disliked it –– if I recall her words were that she didn’t want to read about “boring British people and their sex lives” –– I assumed I would thoroughly enjoy it.  British people?  Sexual intrigue and the emotional entanglements therein?  A London setting?  An awesome title?  Those are all things I like!  Inconceivable I wouldn’t love this book, but I did not love it at all.  I stuck with it in the hopes that the next page, or the next one, would somehow suck me into the story but that never happened; I closed the book feeling like I barely knew the characters.  So how could I care about them?  Presumably this is because the characters didn’t feel quite real to me: the way they spoke, for example, felt elevated and unlikely.  They felt like what they were, literary creations. What is with everyone in this book talking about their feelings all the time, and why are they so earnest and outright about it?  I mean, I am all for heart-to-hearts, but no one has them all the time.  And furthermore, whenever they had these heart-to-hearts their language felt all too literary!  Whole sentences always, the content of those sentences meticulously phrased.  Real people do not speak like that; real people start speaking without thinking, or interrupt others, or phrase a thought disjointedly.  They do not always say exactly what is on their minds, but the characters in this book do.  The back of the book jacket quotes several other authors saying Margot Livesey, the writer, is “at the pinnacle of her craft” and “a master,” so… what the hell?  There was no reason for me to dislike this.


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top five: things Rachel wants to cook

Holy macaroni, Batman! It has been a long time since I wrote something. Sorry about that! Mostly I am spending my whole summer either driving to and from my job, working on my thesis, or wishing I was asleep. That does not leave much time for blogging. For the same reason, probably none of these things will get made anytime soon, or maybe not even this summer. But I want to make them so bad!

Bhel Puri. As is evidenced by the fact that I have a whole other freaking blog about it, I am pretty into Indian street food. It is not even hard to make! In theory! Except maybe tamarind juice will be hard to find, and also I will be forced to cement my reputation as the local White Girl Who Hangs Around The Indian Grocery Way Too Much.

Steamed Red Bean Buns. There are only a few ways to immediately make something more appetizing to me; one of them is stuffing the product at hand with a shit-ton of sweet red bean paste. Aside from how delicious these would be for eating, there is the added appeal of a recipe that is not too complicated, but entails new and exciting cooking methods that I am unfamiliar with – yeast! Steaming! Fucking finding red bean paste! Why did the only good Asian grocery near me just decide to relocate?

Curried Lentils and Sweet Potatoes. As Heather’s post from a few days earlier alludes, the weather here lately has been straight out of early March. Cold, rainy, blustery, disgusting. So even though it is technically June, I find myself wanting to eat warm, filling, slightly spicy foods. Also, I love lentils! I love sweet potatoes! I love currying things! Let’s all hug!

“Jolly Old Nob Cookies.” This is not Indian street food, but it does fall into the category of “attempting to recreate foods that I miss and that are only obtainable in India.” Let me tell you, young ‘uns, I’ve eaten many a Hob Nob Biscuit in my day. Sometimes with a Rs10 Cadbury Dairy Milk bar, sometimes straight up. That is a good biscuit, and I can’t wait to eat it again.

Blackberry Peach Cobbler. Unggggh so good

I have no idea when any of those things will happen! I have a little more free time tonight than I thought, so there is a chance I will take a stab at some brownie roll-out cookies, which have been pretty good in the past. Wish me luck!


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row row fight the meower

I started volunteering at an animal shelter, guys!  I have to get up at seven in the morning, something I cannot remember doing for a very long time –– somehow, through scheduling trickery and living in close proximity to anywhere I work, I do not think I’ve not gotten up at seven o’clock for a few years even –– but it’s worth it.  Today was my first day so I got apprenticed in cleaning cat cages.  Mostly it will be hard withstanding the whining; when you clean the cats in other cages will meow or push their bodies against the cage doors, hoping to be petted.  Some of those cats, while their own cages are being done up, will nudge or rub their heads against any part of you they can (your leg, elbow, hand carrying their food dish, whatever).  Then after you put them back in the cage and move to the next one, they meow again.  Forever.  The first cat I helped with, named after a Beatle, got so whiny he could’ve been named “Chris Carrabba.”  He had huge thumbs, separated from the other digits like on a human’s hand, and he kept sticking said thumbs through the bars to paw at me while meowing reproachfully.  It nearly killed me.  “You,” I told him, “are a troublemaker.”  But on the bright side, did I mention all the kittens?

The animals there are so impossibly cute that this job will probably break me.


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1. Marked by injustice, partiality, or deception.
2. Not equitable in business dealings.

Example sentence: “Mother Nature acts unfairly when she makes it rain steadily throughout June while, in order to avoid charges of reneging on her summer contract, she maintains temperatures just warm enough to keep you from sleep.”

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here’s to the dads!

My dad is not actually here right now; he and my mom have met my grandparents for brunch at Cracker Barrel.  But in his honor I am playing the Wicked soundtrack, specifically “Something Bad,” his favorite track (he enjoys when Dr. Dillamond sings “baa-aa-aad” like a goat).  When they get back, we will probably watch Ice Road Truckers or an old action movie of his choice on Movieplex while he complains about the cat harassing him for attention.  Then, cake!

So here’s to not just my own dad, but all the dads out there –– the ones who watch Keith Olbermann and the ones who watch FOX News, the ones who can’t figure out the backspace key, the technophiles, the ones balding and ones with full heads of hair, the fishermen, the hippies, the fantasy footballers, the comic book men, the ones who sing along with Kristin Chenoweth when no one’s looking, the ones who don’t know who Kristin Chenoweth is, the fans of Tolkien’s trilogy and the fans of Peter Jackson’s trilogy, the ones that think LOTR is for nerds, the day-before-Christmas shoppers and those that pride themselves on holiday involvement, the Homers and the Flanderses, the ones that don’t care about Homer or Flanders, the ones that tried to read Homer and failed, the ones that tried reading Dickens and failed, those that did read Dickens (and a whole lot besides), the ones that pretend to know what you’re talking about, the text-messaging trainees, the ones who think they can fix the leak in the roof because of their Y chromosome, the ones that actually can fix the roof, the grillers and the burners, the bakers, the ones who wear black socks with sandals and khakis, the ones who let moms dress them, and the ones who have always thought (in their humble opinions) that they are quite cool thank you very much, kiddo.

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