Tuesday, August 21, 2007

An Open Letter to the Asshole Sitting Next to Me While Watching "Superbad"

Its hypocritical of me to despise someone for talking during movies, as my friends and I usually have a running dialogue if the movie is even slightly sub-par (I'm looking at you "Sunshine"). But last Friday night was over my limit.

My brother and I went to see this flick for a little bonding before the madness of my ensuing wedding. It was really disgusting, but hilarious. What's not funny is the douche sitting next to me trying to impress some chick by yelling "faggot!" at the screen and at others in the theater.

How small is your manhood that you need to yell offensive and homophobic remarks at fictional characters? The scene that most offended this redneck was when "Evan" (aka George Micheal from the ever-fabulous Arrested Development) refused to sleep with a girl because she was a totally wasted VIRGIN. Clearly, Evan was a big homo.

How is it that a guy who probably finds a loving mutual relationship between two people of the same sex morally repugnant can simultaneously yell at someone to take advantage of a drunk 17 year old? Does this seem skewed to anyone else?

Looking at statistics in this country for the multitude of people who oppose gay marriage always astonishes me. Who are these people? Have they never met a gay person? Do they not have the capacity for empathy with our homosexual brothers and sisters? I can never believe that so many people can be so ignorant....but then I encounter one of my fellow Missoulians who feels comfortable enough being homophobic to flaunt it in front of a full movie theater and I have my answer.

If karma is really true this guy will experience the joy of being labeled a "faggot" someday. We'll see if he has empathy after that.

Friday, August 10, 2007

All's Fair

Contrary to what most people think about Big Sky Country, I grew up here with very little animal experience-- other than a mysterious parade of short-lived dogs and cats we had when I was between the ages of 9-15. (When a large bird of prey carries off your chihuahua, you know something more powerful is at work.)

At any rate, my current nanny job took me to the Western Montana Fair once again this year, only instead of casually walking through the livestock section to look at some freakishly feathered chicken, I spent the last 2 days there.

4-H and FFA (Future Farmers of America for you city slickers) certainly have their own culture. Some of the stereotypes are true-- the Toby Keith "put a boot up the terrorists' butts" attitude and all, but the kid I watch for 3 days a week is a very sensitive, intellectual type. He entered a lamb in this year's competition, and as I watched him and his sister today I learned some very interesting things about this foreign culture.

What do you think they use to wash the sheep before the competition? Guess. Shampoo, dish soap, special livestock soap? No. Woolite. I'm totally serious. After their bath many are dressed in sheep leotards-- I'm not lying-- to keep them clean. Talking to another 4-H participant, apparently they make them for horses and cows as well. They come in 2 piece options for larger animals. I couldn't make this stuff up.

The actual competition took well over an hour. I'd guess probably 100 lambs were shown, grouped together by weight. To "show" the lambs, kids (ages 6-17) have to hold on to their lambs' heads (no leashes, ropes or anything!) and lead them around a ring, which, as you can imagine, is a lot easier said than done. Many of the lambs outweighed their tiny masters, and jerked them around the ring.

The judge seemed bizarrely knowledgeable about how sheep loins were supposed to look and feel (uh oh, I think a bad farmer joke is coming on....fight it....) The only truly disturbing thing about the whole process was that at several times the judge would switch from talking about the beauty and gentleness of the animal to mentioning what a "desirable carcass" it would be when it was "hanging up." Seriously.

In a way, it was like watching Miss America. The judges compare the muscle and shape, the way the sheep/lady is presented, and both are judged completely on appearances and assumptions. I think the only real difference is that when beauty contestants are being judged, they don't piss on the floor.

Saturday, August 4, 2007


The other day my mother and I (in a more sane mood, thankfully) made the epic journey over the mountains to Spokane. See, I took my wedding dress to an experienced seamstress to be altered in APRIL and not only had she not completed it by the time I got back from Seattle (end of June) but she had, in fact, hijacked my dress to Spokane without even calling us!

We had already driven over once for a "final fitting" which actually meant she hadn't done anything except rip off the sleeves and cut the hem....not even ironed. Well at this point I was ready to snatch the dress and run screaming out of the house, sleeves or no sleeves. But my mother, in all her mandatory Southern politeness, insisted that the progress was acceptable because "For heaven's sake she just moved! Its a wonder her house is unpacked, she must be very busy!"

Take a moment to wrap your head around that.

Moving on, we did get the dress yesterday and it is "finished" and by that I mean she somehow decided to narrow the sleeves so they are each about 2" too small for my arms. Any brides out there with 10" biceps who want a dress? Anyway, we decided to take it home and fix it ourselves. She had the audacity to charge us $450, but we just wanted to get the hell away from her house of dress butchery.

So we stopped for lunch at the lovely Northtown Mall. And this was truly an experience of observing local culture. Firstly, the Chilis in that mall is full of people who don't want to be there. While this is probably true of many Chilis, these employees were actually very vocal about it. When the hostess was showing us to our table she asked how we were, and we asked her the same, of course expecting the obligatory "fine." Instead: "Well pretty damn good because I think this is my last day working here!"

As she left I leaned over and whispered to my mom how glad I was she wasn't our server, then our bizarrely chipper waiter came over to ask us how we were at auctioneer-pace, we repeated this little dance and he said "Great, its Friday and I don't have to come back to this awful place for 3 days!"

Also sited at Chilis: 4 waitresses with ponytails so ratty I'm sure they're a healthcode violation, 1 Asian waitress with hair so blond that when I saw her face it took me a second to process she was Asian, and 1 obese customer lifting up her top to display- and scratch- her muffin top.

And the rest of SpoKompton was pretty similar: lots of girls wearing see-through shirts with ratty bras, a giant detour that circumscribed the city and took us back to exactly where we started, and gold rims on cars with chipped paint. Why, Spokane, why?