"STOP ME...?"

Now, this is about as awesome as it gets for fundraising! This marathon, The 26.2 with Donna (a women who beat breast cancer twice and is about to start treatment for lung cancer), gives 100% of race entry fees to support breast cancer research at the Mayo Clinic. One hundred percent. Jacksonville Beach, eh? February, eh? Hmm... I think I need to consider this one very seriously. Hmm...

Jeff Galloway, running guru I totally listen to, recommends it, and even recommends buying a bib (that's the piece of paper with your runner number on it that you clip to yourself for you non-runners out there) if you can't make it down there to run just to support.

Also, don't forget to click for free and fund mammography to women in need and to give to my fundraising efforts for the Making Strides Against Breast Cancer event on the 21st if you can. I only need a bit more to reach the goal!

Now, let's talk. This morning, I got an anonymous comment here on Bigmouth that instead of publishing to my comments section, I thought I would plop it out front and center for everyone to enjoy. Anonymous writes (By the way, not leaving your name immediately strips you of so much credibility in my book.):

"Amy: no offense, but we're all a little tired of the breast cancer links you're doing. Are you seriously going to do this for the rest of the month? I like your blog but it's pretty lame right now with breast cancer shit being pushed on us. I don't know anyone with it, you wrote about a near-miss but you don't have it so drop it, will you? no offense. it's just annoying and seems like a you're wasting your time with the hassle of it all."

Really nice fucking attitude, huh? Readers of Bigmouth, Anonymous seems pretty confident about speaking for you. Anyone care to comment? I'm formulating my answer and will post it there shortly.

"(TWO) DIFFERENT WAYS"

Just overheard, "Mao, yeah. Mao killed everybody. He was a bad dude."

Overheard earlier on the train, "Honey, did you see that, uh, (insert n-word)...?"

And, a couple of nights ago, I had my window cracked a bit, and as most of you remember me mentioning before that my apartment overlooks a busy street, so almost everytime I crack my window, I hear something stupid. And, that night was no exception. Two guys were walking by, and one explained to the other, "Dude, she, like, took all of her makeup off when we got to her apartment, and I was like, whoa. I didn't even want to fuck her then. She was all plain and shit then with her eyes all disappearing without that stuff."

Uh... this was moments before I was going to get ready to go out. So, I made up only half of my face. Not to make any point, per se. I mean what point would I be making? Look, makeup can only do so much? or How transformative is makeup, anyway? Or maybe just putting my half-devoid-of-makeup mug out into cyberland makes me feel like I'm sticking it to this guy a little, even though I am, in fact, not at all...?

In any case, it's a funny picture. No glasses, hair in ponytail, half a face of makeup. Good times. Now, get a Post-It and place it on alternating sides of my face. See? What a funny game. Eh, not really. But, it's something to pass the time.



I'm working from a coffeeshop today. It's a good thing. A slightly noisier crowd came in a bit ago, but it's still fine, just fine. I have a lot of little ods and ends to attend to today, and I'm tearing right through all of it nicely. I, grrls, guys and otherwise, am almost Caught Up On Work.

"DIAL-A-CLICHE"

Why do I find this so fuckin' funny and yet so fantastic...?

Isn't hilarious, boys and girls, when a scored lover digs her claws in and plays her lost love like a cut-throat game of asshole? Oh man, women, I'm telling you, we'd move fucking mountains if we'd knock off the pissing match and play nice. But, that's just the thing. We're so easy to squash when we're divided and we're hard to respect when we don't respect ourselves, much less one another. I don't know about the rest of you, but the catty business makes me laugh and just shake my head.

In fact, I was thinking about this earlier... it takes so much to get me pissed off at another person. I most certainly enforce my boundaries very clearly, but there's a difference between not tolerating rudeness or a lack of consideration and being pissed off. People are just various shades of reactionary and that's the best way, in my estimation, to deal with them. Every action is really a reaction, no? Inanimate objects, on the other hand. Whoosh. Remarkable. I can sit down and have a spirited discussion all day about various controversial topics and not break a sweat, but I was endlessly frustrated that I couldn't fix my vacuum a week ago. It's really ridiculous. At least the situation eventually finds its way into the funny category in my brain.

I was just listening to "Black Metallic" by Catherine Wheel. That's still a really great song.

"WHY DO I GIVE VALUABLE TIME TO PEOPLE WHO DON'T CARE IF I LIVE OR I DIE?"

It's nothing short of heartbreaking to think of the number of us, especially freelancers like me, who do not have health insurance and/or pay out the nose to self-insure. A friend of mine broke her wrist, demanded to be taken to the shit-ass county hospital and still nearly had to file bankruptcy. Bah! Further, I have been dealing with many different health insurance companies lately, as I'm shopping around, as I often do, to make sure I'm getting an okay deal, and blongity-bloong it's fucking confusing. I really appreciate when someone in a particular industry uses coded jargon only other industry insiders know. Sure, it pisses me off when people condescend one another, too, but, c'mon, there is a middle ground. I asked a customer service representative what a string of initials stood for and he scoffed. Audibly. It turned out to be something specific to pediatric emergencies. I don't have kids! So, how the hell would I know what it stood for then? Jeebus. Then, when I attempted to end the call by thanking the representative and insisting I needed a day or two to think over my options, the dude exploded. He said, "Sweetheart, you don't want to make a decision today? After all I've done for you?" Bling! Blam! Bloom! Did you hear that? Sweetheart? And, wait-- was that an attempt at making me not feel like a pleasing and nice girl for troubling you to do your fucking job? Get real. So, when it was over, I called the supervisor and let him know that I wouldn't be pursuing health insurance with any company that would allow their employees to speak to a customer or potential customer like that. Boo!