MeMe Roth vs. the folks at Reason.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 11:02 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Is it ever possible for a female to wear shorts with high heels and not look like a complete whore?

If not, it's rather mysterious, no? I mean, put a skirt on her, and make it even shorter, and it just looks like she's about to go clubbing. More fabric, more modesty as shorts, and . . . instant [ironic] sluttitude.

Why?

Posted by: Attila Girl at 12:59 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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this isn't me. It's the other Joy McCann.

Though Joy McCann's refusal to bow to her son's wishes in how she runs this foundation is absolutely inspiring to me (a non-lawyer, IANOL). Once I pass the age my mother is now, I won't just wear purple—I'll drive a purple freaking convertible.

Because . . . why not?

I am positive that my 96-year-old grandmother (my only surviving grandparent, and dad's mom . . . thanks for asking) has never read this poem, or heard of this society..

And yet, her life is suffused with lavendar, a color she didn't pursue when my grandfather was alive (he had been very partial to red).

If anyone knows where I can find a lavendar flag that can be mounted on her scooter, that would be awesome. Bonus points for a cross or a fish on the flag (I have a vision of it being a purple pennant, but I could be wrong about that).

Just no rainbows, please--or woman-identified-woman symbolism. I do not want to have to explain that to her.

Thanks.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 12:53 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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It means an orange glow beyond the horizon as my constant companion, driving up through Chevy Chase canyon just after midnight.

It means devastation around the Hollywood sign, and the peak—Mt. Hollywood—from which one can see it best. It means farewell to countless movie sets, and the site of several early dates between my husband and me, back in the days when we assumed we'd grow out of this madness.

It means that there is soot in the air, and there are weird noises around the house—from hyperacive insects, and from the particles in the air as they begin to settle.

It means that the venue wherein I saw the Bangles in the 80s is now a staging area for LAFD.

How strange. I'm lookin' for the good in this, but it isn't visible yet.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 02:38 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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for why males seem so enamoured of IM-ing their female friends. (Scroll down to the third entry on the page, David Linden's.)

Of course, there is a sort of corollary from high school. Those of us who were female and cute and brilliant and not computer jocks would often call our male friends for emotional support, understanding, and practical advice. As time wore on, it became more and more difficult to ignore the sound of the keyboard tapping that accompanied these conversations . . . fucking computer programmers. Fucking guys.

But, you know. We needed the eggs.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 01:23 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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