Monthly Archives: August 2012

The Vesta Party

Posted on by
43

My political views are like a bag of trail mix – there’s all kinds of shit in there. I feel passionately about them, yet I rarely discuss politics with anyone outside of close friends and family. Usually I try to stay away from political talk on my blog, and discourage others from leaving political or religious (including anti) comments. Those things simply have no place here. Yes, we sometimes talk about women’s issues and feminism, but since that’s a given considering the name of this blog, I figure anyone reading understands what they are getting themselves into.

With regards to women’s issues, most of you have a pretty good idea of where I stand. Other than that, I typically keep my political views to myself. If in conversation someone brings up an issue I happen to disagree with, I try to assess the situation and decide whether to shrug my shoulders and give a noncommittal smile, or voice my opinion as rationally as possible. Therefore, I find it annoying when people start yapping about politics (or religion) and just assume everyone agrees with them. Recently I was at my book club meeting, and right from the get go, this woman started bashing Republicans -

“Gawd, I hate them. They’re all so disgusting!”

That’s a direct quote, followed by many more details about how much she hates them, and how awful they are. All I could think was, really? You hate every single member of a political party, and they’re all disgusting? Sure, some Republicans are revolting (I’m looking at you, Rush, you misogynistic ass munch), and so are some Democrats – there are assholes in every group, it’s the way of the world.

Keep in mind this was a book club, not a political group, and none of us really know each other, so it seemed in bad taste to waltz in and declare hate for hundreds of thousands of people (I think she was just an incredibly negative person all around, she had almost nothing nice to say about anyone, including the characters in the book we were reading. Ironically, we discovered about half way through she only made it 60 pages into the 900-plus book, so I have no fucking idea why she even bothered to show up).

I run into this sort of thing more than I would like. Ultra-liberals assume just because I live in Southern California, I must agree with their views. Or people who live in Texas and think because I live in California, I’m a granola head, tree hugging liberal. And people in California that discover I’m from Texas, and then automatically assume I’m a gun-toting, evangelical, right wing nutjob.

I am none of those things. Besides, my husband doesn’t want me to own a gun, he’s afraid I’ll accidentally shoot him.

Here’s the deal, I have a lot of views that are very far to the left, and just as many that land me squarely in the conservative camp. For that reason, I find most diehards on either side don’t want me, which is totally fine. My views are my own, and I accept people think differently. I’m neither on the right or the left, because each group has core beliefs deeply at odds with some of my own (and yes, there are other political parties aside from red and blue, but none with any chance of becoming top dog…yet. With any hope, one day we’ll have other viable options, instead of it always coming down to the lesser of two evils).

I am so tired of all the hatefulness on both sides. When did we lose the ability to rationally discuss things and have an open dialogue? And more importantly, why do so many people adopt this mentality of ‘You’re either on my side or you’re evil’? Opinions, folks. We are all entitled to them, and that’s all they are. It’s fine to disagree, but no matter what ‘side’ you’re on, you really should hear the other one out. How can you know what you oppose if you won’t listen long enough to understand what the other person is saying?

I know the elections are coming up, and a lot of people have their knickers in a knot over it, but November is a long ways off, and I am already sick and tired of all the mudslinging.

Scatter Brain, Scatter Brain, Rah Rah Rah!

Posted on by
12

It’s one of those days. I have three different posts in the works, and the attention span of three-year-old, so none of them have come to fruition.

It happens.

I was having a discussion with my husband about Naomi Wolf’s newest book, Vagina: A New Biography. This led to a wildly inappropriate conversation, which I found hilarious, but would probably offend a large number of people. And while it doesn’t bother me to offend, it does bother me to think about my parents and various other family members being offended, so…

You’ll have to insert your own vagina joke.

I guess I’ll write about being all growns’d up instead, which only officially happened in the last week, at the ripe old age of 35. During our trip to Austin I found my first gray hair. I was utterly shocked, not only because I check for grays regularly and this one just appeared out of nowhere, but also because I made a deal with God for that to never, ever happen, and he totally broke his end of the bargain. So, I pulled it out, set it on my travel bag, and yelled for my husband to give him the bad news.

Oh, wait, lemme back up a minute. I set the hair atop my travel case because I planned to take a picture of it, to mark the beginning of the end and whatnot. When my husband walked into the bathroom, he picked it up and said, “It must be mine” and then he tossed it on the floor. He threw my hallmark moment on the ground, where it disappeared. Naturally, I became pissed (look, I was on the verge of tears anyway, it only snowballs from there folks), and an argument ensued. It was mostly one-sided, because if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s completely ignoring irrational female shit.

I’m hoping the gray was a result of stress, and it was just a one time thing. It could happen, right?

Anyway, all growns’d up item number two happened yesterday. We made a budget. I am good with money, always have been. But I’ve never made a budget for myself. Prior to getting married I kept track of everything in my head. Once we tied the knot and everything became one big ‘we/ours,’ that went out the door. I haven’t thought much about it, but while trying to figure out how much we spend on a monthly basis, we realized the answer is ‘I have no freaking idea’. That’s not good. So I made a monthly budget, and because I am one militant little mo-fo when I get a bee in my bonnet about something, we will stick to the budget.

Holy crap y’all. We’re so grown up that we’re, like, one step away from having kids.

Hot damn, it’s book time!

Posted on by
21

Well hell fire and little fishes, y’all, today is the day!

What day?

This one:

You know how the British have those miniseries that are longer than hour television shows, but shorter than a movie? Well that’s how this book is, except there are no British people. There is, however, a Swede, a bitchy botanist, and a lot of Guatemalans, if that helps.

Wait, where am I going with this? Oh, right, so originally I thought this would be one book (as opposed to book one). Then I started outlining, and writing, and forcing my husband to sit patiently and let me bounce ideas off him, and the story grew into a monster. So I had a choice, write a book so long, no one would read it, or break it into a series. I chose option two.

Now, in the interest of full disclosure, Kikki Killmé: Ixcotep is totally different than Human Resources, Martinis, and Other Bad Things. It isn’t women’s fiction, but a mystery-ish story that contains a dollop of supernatural and occult (which plays a larger part in books two and three). It has Mayan ruins, a bad ass archaeologist with a secret past, and a botanist on the look out for a plant that’ll fuck you up. And no, this is not a book about 2012. No lame, written version of a John Cusack movie here, thank you very much.

And most importantly, it’s available on Amazon today – Kikki Killmé, Book One: Ixcotep.

It wasn’t stupidity. Oh wait, it was.

Posted on by
17

I know what you’re thinking, “Oh Vesta, could you really not figure out how to post from your phone? It isn’t hard, you know.”

Yeah, but it is hard to do when you left your phone in the car at the airport. Which is what I did, because I am a dumbass. So no posting on my trip, and I also made the harsh discovery that somewhere along the line, I became one of those people lost without my phone.

Anyway, before I share about the awesomeness that is Austin, I’d like to address this article. Perhaps because I just had two terrible flights in a row, this whole thing annoyed me. Now, there is no photo of the cleavage woman in this article, so I haven’t the faintest idea how revealing her top was. However, just this week I witnessed a ridiculous amount of young girls and women wearing shorts so short their ass cheeks were hanging out (literally, like, a couple inches of cheek). Please explain how it’s okay to show butt cleavage but not boobs. It seems to me that if oodles of women can let it all hang out of their shorts, a little top of the tatas shouldn’t be that big of a deal. If some flight attendant told me to get off the plane because of what I was wearing, I would be pissed. And speaking of flight attendants, how are you not going to say anything to the lady with the screaming kid on the plane that let her child screech while roaming unaccompanied for the entire flight? Before anyone gets their knickers in a knot – yes, I know you can’t control temper tantrums, but she let the kid run up and down the aisle, crying and screaming. Not cool. Many times I’ve seen a tired and harried mom or dad walk their cranky little one down the aisle, trying to soothe them. That is perfectly fine, and you can’t help but feel bad for both parent and child. But for Pete’s sake, don’t just turn them loose while you flip through a magazine and tune out (I know for a fact I wasn’t the only one that felt that way – there was a little kid right behind us on the flight that sang nursery rhymes the whole trip. The louder the screaming kid got, the louder she sang, completely determined to drown out the wailer. Her little face was scrunched in an expression of sheer rage while she belted out Mary Had a Little Lamb, it was priceless). Or, and this was my favorite, the person with gas so foul, I could only assume he or she had giardia. If you are having issues, then get up and go to the restroom, do not pollute the entire cabin. Frankly, I would much rather be next to the person with cleavage. Boobs don’t scream, and they don’t stink. They pretty much just sit there, not bothering anybody.

I really hate to fly.

Okay, rant over. On to brighter things. The good news about the trip was that my face did not melt off. It was hotter in Pasadena than it was in Austin. The bad news is that I forgot you can’t stand still outside in the evening, because mosquitoes will bite you. And, I also forgot just how much the skeeters love me, and about my body’s violent reaction to insect bites. Yuck.

Other than that, the trip was fantastic, I saw my dad, and ate far too much Tex Mex.

That would be the capitol building in the background.

I don't eat meat, but I will admit, it's a good name.

I love shopping at places where you can buy both horse feed AND fancy cowboy boots. Mounted deer head not for sale :(

Same store, I think this is some sort of sex toy. Or something.

This has nothing to do with Texas.