Fed Ex: A Covert Operation

For the past several days I've been housesitting for a friend who lives on one of the busiest streets in Eureka. It's not a very tough job and consists of feeding the cat, sleeping in the giant comfy bed and bringing in the newspaper and mail. Oh, and spying on Fred (that's not really part of the job, just a bonus.)

Yesterday I arrived at the front porch to see that Fed Ex had paid a visit and delivered a couple of packages. Realizing that it was a busy street, the delivery person very carefully hid them so they would not be observed by casual passersby.



And just in case I happened to miss them, there was also a note left on the door.



Super stealth, guys. Good job!

I love the Academy Awards.

I know, I know...a bunch of self-indulgent egomaniacs congratulating themselves, etc., etc. But I can't help it. I love them, and I was so excited yesterday when I was able to talk the owners of a giant high-definition television into letting me spend the evening reveling in the sparkly pretentiousness.

But this year my heart felt like a wine-stained and wrinkled evening gown in that horrible grey color everyone was wearing when I saw the winner of the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award, Jerry Lewis. And I just have one thing to ask the Academy:

Are you fucking kidding me?

Here's what Mike Ervin had to say about it in The Progressive.

The Oscars are about to insult people with disabilities.

At the Academy Awards ceremony Feb. 22, the board of governors of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences will present its Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award to Jerry Lewis.

Lewis is notorious for making disparaging remarks about others, particularly gay people and women.

But he has said equally degrading things about people with disabilities.

For decades, disability rights activists have criticized how his annual telethon for the Muscular Dystrophy Association exploits people with disabilities by making us into objects of pity.

To this, Lewis responded in 2001, “You don’t want to be pitied because you’re a cripple in a wheelchair, stay in your house!”

Lewis becomes particularly enraged when those who protest against his telethon and him are people with muscular dystrophy — like me.

In a 1993 article in Vanity Fair magazine, he said about me, “This one kid in Chicago would have passed through this life and never had the opportunity to be acknowledged by anybody, but he found out that by being a dissident he gets picked up in a limo by a television station.”

The damage Lewis has done to the disability community goes far beyond name-calling. He and his telethon symbolize an antiquated and destructive 1950s charity mentality.

This says that people with disabilities have no hope and nothing to offer unless we are cured, so the whole focus should be raising money for behemoth charities that can find that cure.

This is a dangerously simplistic outlook.

It devalues and dehumanizes people with disabilities by suggesting we can be worthy contributors only if we first shed our disabilities.

It gives people permission to avoid addressing the daunting task of creating an inclusive society if they simply make an annual contribution to Jerry.

Disability rights activists still fight daily to shatter the barriers that exclude and segregate people with disabilities. Those barriers are rooted in the outmoded charity mentality.

Lewis and his telethon are the primary force that perpetuates that mentality.

By giving Lewis this honor, the board of governors of the Academy shows that its view of people with disabilities and our potential has not evolved in 50 years.

Sigh.

Sometimes things shift.

Life is fluid. Change is often needed for growth.
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.


Damn, I'll miss you Eko.
You and your refined palate.

xoxox

Just a tiny little sappy pre-valentine's day post

Two weeks ago I was lying naked on my stomach on a really comfy bed in San Francisco with my eyes closed listening to the city sounds outside the window. It was late afternoon and warm in the room; I was tired and the cacophony of sirens, cars honking, people shouting and cable cars clanging was lulling me into a near-sleep state.

Suddenly ice cold water plunged over my neck and down my back, soaking both my ample torso and the sheets I was lying on. I sat straight up screaming "Damn it!" and looked crabbily at my roommate, a cute tall guy with big hands who had accompanied me to the city and who was suspiciously holding a large empty glass.

"Sorry," he muttered sheepishly with a sideways grin and a shrug of his shoulders. "I thought it would be sexy to dribble a bit of water on your back and lick it off...but it didn't quite work out that way."

And in one small dorky moment of humanity I began to think that happily ever after may not be quite as elusive as I'd thought.

Saturday night souvenir

My friend
Boy Most Likely To
went to San Francisco,
















and all I got was this lousy chocolate-covered penis.

Friday Crafty Inspiration

If I wasn't going to be stuck in traffic school this weekend (damn you, Trinity County and your 55 mph speed limit and your no-online-or-home-study rules) I would so be making one of these, but I thought I'd post it anyway for any of you who need a weekend project.

I especially like the tattoos. Happy Crafting!

I also heart being tagged.

Really. I know some people think it's a pain in the ass but grudgingly play along. Others won't play at all. But I love discovering things about people - especially if they're really weird. The things, not the people. No, the people too. You know what I'm saying.

Indie over at the Bitten Apple tagged me. The instructions are to post the sixth photo of your sixth folder, then tell the story behind it.


These are my friends Julia and Angie. Aren't they cute? Yes, those really are name tags made from maxi pads on their shirts. We belong to a little group called "Not Yo Mama's Craft Nite." About once a month or so we get together for eating, drinking, kvetching and, of course, crafting. This picture was the product of a few too many lemon sorbet martinis. Mmmmmmm. My mouth is watering just thinking about them. I believe Julia's just about to hold the knitting needles she's hiding behind her back up to Angie's throat to threaten the last martini away from her. We're a tough bunch.

The group's been on hiatus for awhile, but we're going to regroup in March and are looking for new members. If you've got a crafty side and are interested (Indie, Monica, Carol, Beachcomber...?), shoot me an email for an invitation. It's a great time.

So now, I tag (Don't worry, I won't hold it against you if you won't play. Maybe.).....

Hank (Sorry, Hank. It was so fascinating the last time I tagged you, I just had to do it again.)

Jen

Jack

Eric

My favorite headmaster

and another Jen