Month: February 2016

“Um…like…totally CLUELESS” outfit

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With themes based on 90’s movies, it’s been a blast from the recent past at Story Story Night this season. Like tonight was CLUELESS: Airhead & As If Stories. I usually exploit my outfit as my first joke/theme intro, and I really wanted to call this one “Cher from Clueless Becomes Hillary Clinton’s Stylist,” because no one rocks a matching, totes profesh two piece (slash pantsuit) like those two ladies. Unfortunately, though I searched most of the thrift stores in Boise at the last minute looking for a yellow plaid pantsuit (because, like, duh, perfect Cher/Clinton synergy), I only had a red plaid combo that Hillary would likely never be caught dead in (because Republican red state fashion bias) that I had to make into a Cher-style mini-skirt with safety pins and duct tape. Also my only knee highs are super weird and look like a wild animal clawed them up on the sides. My red Gucci bag is a definite knock-off. And since I don’t quite have Cher’s thigh gap, I had to sit down very carefully …

“Joy Division” outfit

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Inside my head, everything is changing. Like spring for a brain stuck in a perpetual winter. My depression came back this winter (because it thinks it’s my best friend from way back, but it’s really just an intrusive asshole forever creeping at my psyche’s door like the Dementor in Harry Potter or maybe that death spirit who looked for the blood of the lamb on Israeli doorposts before smiting most of the first born sons of ancient Egypt. What a stalkery, judgmental, passive aggressive prick of an angel, am I right? (And also, there’s a freaky amount of baby-killing in the Bible.) But all this only makes sense if you’re into Exodus, and mental illness, and off-beat metaphors). Anyway, I finally cried the celestial “uncle.” I am finally taking Wellbutrin, and for the first time, treating this like a boss. Taking fucking care of business, is what I mean, brain-chemistry-wise. It’s been pretty intense. I feel so much. And I forgot how to feel so much, except for 50 distinct levels of sad, like the Eskimo word for snow. Now I feel the full spectrum of …