Category: Twitter Tells Me

Four Questions and a Statement

I thought nobody responded to my desperate plea for topic suggestions, but reader Wotusay has come to the rescue. And just in time. I literally wrote out my daily tasks and their corresponding hours because there was nothing else in my head.

1– When was the last time you did something completely out of character, IE – something nice you did for someone for no other reason than you just could.

Being nice isn’t that far out of my character these days. I’d say that the one thing I’ve done that is crazy out of character for me lately is that I’ve been spending a lot of money on the businesses. I hired another guide on the tour before it had the income to support her, which was a really smart thing because things got pretty crazy after that and I’ve really been happy to have her there. This week, I also hired on friend and occasional copywriter Katy as a virtual assistant to help me take care of admin stuff, which is another really good decision. She’s helped me a lot with research this week and just knowing I can call her has really calmed me down during what is turning out to be the busiest week of my entire year.

I’m usually pretty cheap, and I don’t spend money on things I can do myself, but I think I made the right call here, despite my crippling fear about having to make sure I make enough to pay people other than myself. Especially when it feels like the time when I couldn’t actually pay myself wasn’t that far away.

2– What do you get from doing your podcast? Is it therapeutic? Relaxing, or do you have a burning need to leave a record of your existence after you’ve shuffled off your mortal coil?

It’s all of those things. I don’t have many listeners, and I don’t get a lot of feedback, so it feels a little like I’m alone, but also like I’m leaving a permanent record. The fact that it’s my voice on the recording, and not just words like here on the blog makes it somehow more real-feeling. Sometimes I think about my children or grandchildren having those recordings if they want them. And then I get a little creeped out, not because I speak frankly about sex, but because I said a still say some really fucking bone-headed things when there isn’t the filter of a re-read.

3- Marriage – what are your expectations, are you apprehensive about giving up your chastely, and being at the Becken call for your hubby

I don’t think I have any apprehensions about marriage. Ben and I have a lot of practice living together, supporting each other, and that kind of stuff. I do have this one paranoid fear that we’ll get married and then once of us will change drastically and start having massively different expectations of the other one, but I don’t think that actually happens, except where one partner is straight up lying to the other. When you communicate your expectations honestly and repeatedly with your partner, the only surprises should come as a surprise to both of you.

Deciding to get married wasn’t a surprise, it was a natural progression of a series of discussions we’d been having for years.

My only real apprehensions are about the wedding and whether or not I’ll be able to keep it together and have a good time and not completely freak out over something stupid thereby alienating all of my friends and family forever and ever.

4– I’m of the opinion that arguments become more intense when you’re married because it’s harder to say ” fuck you ” and leave. What do you think

I don’t agree, but then again I’m not married. The reason people think it’s harder to leave, or to say fuck you is because they perceive the stakes to be too high. So they do things that are against their nature in order to not rock the boat, which leads to further discord, which comes out in other ways like intense arguments. It’s the perception that the partnership is too important to be honest, or to take care of yourself before the other person is what’s really making things more intense.

5- less about dogs, please or I will reluctantly be forced to unfollow

I haven’t written a single word about that dog since Sept. 4, 2015, more than a month ago. What’s your deal with dogs anyway? This is the second time you’ve asked me to stop talking about my awesome dog. I have to say, I get more requests to talk about her.

I joked about it on the podcast, but the truth is that I’m going to write about anything in my life, and the dog is a part of that. As is my sex life, and my feminism, job, etc. etc. If somebody asked me to bee less feminist, I’d tell them to fuck right off with such vehemence that the sidebar would shake. I love you because you’re my only human podcast listener, but I have to tell you this: I will be talking about my dog. Not necessarily more than usual, but definitely not less.

I’ve had people email me asking me if I will let them pay me to write what they want, and I have told them to fuck off. In the rest of my life I do the smart thing. I say the smart thing, I plan hard and I stick to the plan, I work myself into the ground (it’s 11:30 pm right now, I’ve been working non-stop since 8:00 am. I’ve taken a 30 minute break to write this blog, and when it’s done, I’m going back to work for at least two more hours). In my personal life, which consists of this blog, the podcast, Facebook and Twitter, I do what I want. Even if it’s not popular, even if it gets no clicks and no follows. Even if it gets unfollows.

I’d hate to see you go, but I understand that you have to do what’s right for you, and the only reason I’m not cussing a blue streak about being told what to do on my own blog is because I know you’ve been a loyal commenter and contributor for many years.


Here’s that schedule I wrote, if you guys were wondering:

730a Wake up

8-915 Work on client project

930-6p Work a new organizing job. Use lunch break and bathroom breaks to run my business.

630-730 Stuff envelopes for business association

745-805 Stand for Thursday tour. Listen to a very drunk man yell at passersby. Write blog.

830-?? (it turned out to be 130am, if you were wondering) Work on organizer stuff that didn’t get done. Hit client deadlines.

730a Again

Dwayne The Motherfucking Rock Johnson

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You think you can smell what The Rock is cooking? Well, you fucking can not. Because The Rock wakes up at 3:50 in the ass splitting, eye shitting morning y’all.

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Three motherfuckin’ fiddy.

The Rock has these same headphones in two different colors.

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Also, the same work-out shirt in alternating colors. That’s the kind of man The Rock is. The Rock will color coordinate his audio accessories. Because he can, bitch.

We have to appreciate The Rock while we still have him. The Rock is not a renewable resource. The Rock is finite. It’s important to take the time we have to appreciate the gifts The Rock gives us.

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By the way, I recorded the making of this mess on Periscope, if you guys want to hear what I sound like at the end of a 16 hour day on 4 hours of sleep, follow @marinaisgo.

Are You Happy Now Ben Bateman

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Fine. I do say that I’ll always answer any blog request.

Preparing yourself to visit the tax person is excruciating and I hate it. For all my careful record keeping, there’s always some random obscure thing that I’ve missed.

So I just hyperventilate into my check registry like WHY DIDN’T ANYBODY EVER TELL ME THAT BOTH THE COST AND NUMBER OF STAPLES WAS RELEVANT IN THIS SPECIFIC INSTANCE AND NO OTHER OH MY FUCKING FUCKING GOD!! It’s dumb.

I’ll be really glad when this ballsackery is over. Just thinking about it has my blood pressure up.


I’ve had this song stuck in my head all day. This music video is fucking strange.

How to Blog on Vacation

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I’m sitting at my office desk on Saturday before my vacation, writing this so that it will publish next Tuesday as if I were here blogging the whole week when really, I will be in Rockaway Beach, OR with my amazing boyfriend on our first ever non-family vacation.

Previous vacations, I have blogged through, or I’ve scheduled some of the blogs. But this is the first one where I will not be blogging again until the Friday after Thanksgiving, when I will post my annual Thanksgiving Twitter Hall of fame, showing what America’s best and brightest did over the holiday. Previous HoFs include 911 calls, vomit, and stabbings.

So, this is how I plan to blog on vacation this vacation: I won’t.

I’m going to write all of next week’s posts today and tomorrow, and then I’ll be blog-free for the first time in more than two years. I don’t know what I’ll do with myself. There is a small fear that I’ll stop and never start again. But I don’t think I’ll do that. If I need to, I’ll just write blogs to publish the week after next. When I first started blogging, I used to write 10 posts ahead of schedule. But that was because I wasn’t sure I’d really be able to blog every night.

While we’re vacationing, I plan on taking a ton of pictures so I can write about it when I come back. And you guys know me, I can’t stay off social media to save my life. If I’m not online it usually means that something’s wrong with me. So it’s not like I’ve really gone anywhere.

Of course, there’s the other fear that once Ben and I finally get together by ourselves without work or family to distract us, we will realized that we’re horribly wrong for each other and break up. But, I feel more sure that if we don’t spend some real time together here soon, we’ll be headed for a break up anyway. Not like we’d skip one date night and then have a falling out the likes of which will never be reconciled, just that We’re both stressed out, exhausted, and we both tend to bury ourselves in work when we’re scared. I especially feel the need to work constantly. At dinner, in the car, in bed, even in the middle of a conversation from time to time.

So, this vacation is kind of an experiment.

I even have a contingency plan. If it turns out I really do need to work, I’m reserving about two hours a day where work will happen and no more than that.

Then if that doesn’t work, I’ll just cry and move to a state where it’s legal to marry a cell phone.

Cinco de Stinko

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Some Mexicans get annoyed that white people love Cinco de Mayo. That would be like the Irish getting mad that everybody celebrates St. Patrick’s Day.

Not being a fan of loud drunks in multitude, I abstain for aesthetic reasons.

Everything Tastes Better Than Crazy Feels

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Your wish is my command. But first:

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Regular readers know that I suffered from anorexia and bulimia between the ages of 11 and 13. I consider both my mother and grandmother to be lifelong anorexics. Their eating habits are crazy self-destructive and sick as fuck.

So, having been raised by these two wackos, in an abusive household, in a society that values attractiveness over substance where I was teased mercilessly for being fat, although I now know that has more to do with being completely unsocialized than anything that was physically going on with me, I built on my already unhealthy ideas about food with some really stupid and shitty diets. This started as early as nine, but was definitely a regular part of my life and my thinking by ten.

Eating disorders by themselves are not actually about weight loss, although that’s a big marker. At their core, they’re about control.

During this time, I was being shuttled back and forth between my mom, grandma, and dad. Each house had different rules, and every player had a reason to try to manipulate every other player. Sometimes their interests coincided with mine, sometimes they did not. Sometimes they were downright hostile. At one point, I was packing a bag every three days in order to accommodate my mom’s swing shift schedule.

The only thing in my life that belonged to me at that point was my eating. Crazy food habits being a longstanding tradition in my family, I was actually applauded for skipping meals.

Controlling my food intake was a way to have something that belonged to me.

More as a consequence of my insanity than anything else, I was the thinnest I have ever been. And the craziest I have ever been. I was suicidal, I had no ability to think abstractly. I exercised instead of sleeping.

Eating again was the best decision I ever made. Putting on weight was life-affirming. It was also a complete slap in the face to every outdated, codependent idea that had been taught to me about a woman’s worth.

I learned to love my fat body, and fuck with the lights on, and stop comparing my outsides to other people’s insides. It was great.

Then about five years ago, I had the first significant weight loss of my adult life and everything went to shit almost immediately. I wrote a blog about it here. I eventually stabilized, at least mentally, and I’ve been basically normal ever since then, but I also stopped losing weight.

Until this year.

Moving to Portland has made me incredibly happy, working from home makes my food choices way healthier, and doing work I love in a city I love with a man I love has me over the moon most days. I dropped 15 pounds in three months. So far, the galloping crazies haven’t returned. Then again, nobody here really knows what I looked like before, so I don’t get comments, thank God. And, on top of everything, people in Oregon just don’t give as many fucks about fat vs. thin as people in LA did.

I’ve heard a lot of people talk a lot about food, but aside from the gluten frees and the vegetarians, nobody has said word one about the things they can’t eat. It’s amazing.

So maybe this time I won’t be quite so insane. But the truth remains. In my life, the fatter I am, the saner I am. Weight loss makes me feel small and weak, and gives me freaky ideas about self worth. It’s altogether gross and sad.

Twitter Looks Out for Drunks and Fools

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@Teddy_Picker: Well, I just got a handy while topless and driving* down Cesar E Chavez Blvd at 1 a.m. So I’d say this is one of my better drunk experiences. As for worst, I usually go get in bed when I’m really drunk.

One time I was in the middle of Manhattan, it was actually after a Keith and the Girl event, come to think of it, and I just thought “I’m too drunk for this” so I went back to my hotel and went to sleep.

The next morning I had to be at a work thing at 8 a.m. all the way in the financial district. I woke up at 5 completely hung over, went to the hotel gym and ran on the elliptical as fast as I could until I knew I’d be sick. I ran back to my hotel room, had a puke, took a dump, then showered, got ready and showed up fresh as a daisy and completely hangover free. It’s probably one of the more bad ass things I’ve ever done, but couldn’t tell anybody at work because that’s totally unprofessional.

@Forducks: I don’t think I’m doing this right.

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*Editor’s Note: Driving in the sense that Ben, who was completely sober, was driving.

MLK 2014 Twitter Hall of Fame

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Stay classy, PETA.

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If you were wondering, aye papi lists his location as “Pizza Hut.”

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That’s Richmond, Virginia, if you were thinking of places to avoid on your next family vacation. As far as I can tell, this was a national Klan action.

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Is this a thing?

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Obviously.

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Actually, insomuch as he died for anything, I’d say that this is exactly it.

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The Curious Incident of the Megaphone and the Mother-in-Law

 

For those of you who haven’t read those tweets, my review of Thích Nhat Hanh’s talk at the Pasadena Civic Auditorium, or the subsequant day’s post where I reiterate how much I hate LA and how I really super want to get the fuck out of here, there may or may not have been a shooting on my street last Saturday morning.

The facts of the case are this:

-At approximately 1:30 a.m. the motherfucking Hawthorne P.D. woke me up out of a dead sleep to let me and every neighbor in a two block radius know that they were attempting to convince someone to put their hands behind their back and get down on the ground. Why they couldn’t have said this directly to the suspect in question, and not to all of us asleep in our beds, I do not know.

-I immediately ran through the house to make sure that every person and animal was healthy and safe. Because when the cops show up, you have no fucking clue anymore.

-Then I got on twitter and checked for any news about my street, the cops, or Hawthorne in general. Got a face-full of some damn show Jada Pinkett Smith is on. Don’t Care. Meanwhile all my neighbors are talking all around me and playing music. Some of those crazy jerks are even outside watching the cops. But none of them are on twitter. Which is an outrage. It’s it supposed to be the new black CNN or something? (Seriously, read that article. If that writer isn’t a million years old and at least NPH levels of white, I’ll eat every hat I own. The phrase ‘Twitter Forums’ is in the title. The fucking title for balls sake!)

-I decided to brave the harsh, cop-filled reality of the outside so I could try to get the scoop. My kindly neighbor said she was waiting for her daughter to get home when she heard 3 gunshots, although she wasn’t specific as to exactly when those were. But she was also coming back from walking the dog, so she must not have been that concerned. Or she really hates that dog.

-After that I just sat on my couch refreshing Twitter, Reddit and the Hawthorne PD website to no avail. Eventually I did get back to sleep around 4:30 a.m.

-In the morning, I called the police department and they said that there was a report of shots fired, followed by a single arrest. I asked the woman on the other end of the line why they had to wake us all up. She said that it was only a general report and that she didn’t know. I also tried to reassure Ben’s mom that our neighborhood isn’t really that dangerous and make sure that she at least got some sleep, and she said that she knew she was safe as soon as the cops showed up. At first I thought she was joking. I mean, who in their right mind is relieved to see the cops? Trustworthy, honest women from the Pacific Northwest. That’s who. So of course I had to tell her about the dog they shot and how maybe the cops aren’t that trustworthy afterall. Because I am rain cloud and this is my purpose. To tell people that the things they believe in, like honor and justice and law enforcement are false and full of corruption. Did you know Gandhi was a misogynist? Now you do. Also, John Lennon was a wife-beating junkie.

-Of course, the reporter who does the local police reports was on vacation last week. Her vacation notice suggested we go to the LA Sheriff’s website with is just about the most difficult to navigate, slow-loading and broken piece of crap I’ve ever seen.

-I went to my local police website just now and learned nothing, except that they have a Pinterest. So there’s that.
Basically, the cops dropped by, fucked with my night and then left. And nobody but me seems to care. Sleep is a rare gift for me as it is. I really don’t appreciate it being interrupted for any reason. Especially not by cops.


Anyway, it’s Friday, so you know what that means! A new Jake and Jessica Poll. I can’t grantee it’ll be out on Monday, but it’ll be out next week, barring serious accident or injury. Unlike the other stories, I’ve been so busy this week I haven’t thought about them at all. So this should be interesting.

Since I’ll be out of the house at the usual close time, this poll closes at 2 p.m. PST Saturday, Oct 26, 2013.