The top comment says it all: “When I first saw the title of this song, I was expecting it to be a stupid, stereotypical song mocking gays… instead, I got this incredibly deep, beautiful song about love. “I’ll love you still in hell” is the line that gets me the most.”
Archive for category And then she said…
Look at this!
I know sometimes I am a bit slow with the uptake, but someone on twitter pointed this out to me and, well, I think it deserves ten times the views it has. If you ever watch Stephen Fry (in anything) you will know that very often the most poignant and truthful messages are couched in satire and silly. Cosmo Jarvis does a wonderful job of bringing a very real message home in a somewhat silly fashion.
2011 Posts in Review
It’s time for the 2011 wrap-up. I know I’m late getting this done, but my main blogging laptop had an accident. An I-can’t-read-the-screen accident, so I had to wait until I could pull off my photos and such. And here we are!
Posts first-
Most popular posts
1. My take on the Japan disaster and whether or not you should donate.
2. How I got my feelings hurt, and then moved on.
3. Where I gave my daughter some very un-Cleaverly advice.
4. Y’all liked my letter to nameless PR people everywhere.
5. Of course, any mention of my sex life brought out the readers.
And, of course, my favorite part of the year, 2011 in photos. Enjoy!
2011 In Photos from Amy Phillips on Vimeo.
Amy Translator
You’ve heard of Google translator, right? Today, I am going to introduce you to the ‘Amy Translator’. Much like the Google version, I will put in common phrases and then you will get a glimpse of what someone with my crazy brain actually hears when you utter this drivel.
Ready? Great, let’s go.
What I hear:
Live your joy!
What it actually means (according to the Amy Translator):
Quit whining about your dead end job and be glad you get a paycheck, buddy!
What I hear:
Helping others succeed!
What it actually means (according to the Amy Translator):
Couldn’t succeed on my own so now I take your money and tell you how to avoid all the mistakes I made.
What I hear:
Community Builder
What it actually means (according to the Amy Translator):
I tweet a lot.
What I hear:
PR Friendly
What it actually means (according to the Amy Translator):
I wouldn’t dream of writing anything negative, anywhere. Also, I am a swag whore.
What I hear:
Living my passion
What it actually means (according to the Amy Translator):
Trust fund baby.
What I hear:
Brand builder
What it actually means (according to the Amy Translator):
I get paid to talk about products I don’t really care about.
What I hear:
I am influential
What it actually means (according to the Amy Translator):
(Hahahaha, who am I kidding? Nno one believes you when you sprout this shit).
What I hear:
You are such an inspiration.
What it actually means (according to the Amy Translator):
Tell me more about your pain, so I can feel better about my crappy life. Because, hey, at least I’m not you, right?
What I hear:
Mom to missperfectpants and mrhandsomeboy
What it actually means (according to the Amy Translator):
I gave up my identity when I became a mother. I stay at home because I am a white middle-class mom who can afford to do so, but I am going to call it a ‘choice’. I receive validation only through what my kids achieve. Also, I am better parent than you.
What I hear:
Ignoring the haters.
What it actually means (according to the Amy Translator):
I am oblivious to everyone but me.
What I hear:
No matter what anyone says we’re going to make it! I love you [insert current husband here].
What it actually means (according to the Amy Translator):
We will be divorced within a year.
What I hear:
Photographer
What it actually means (according to the Amy Translator):
I got a DSLR for Christmas and now I think that certifies me as someone who should be charging for photos.
What I hear:
Professional Blogger
What it actually means (according to the Amy Translator):
Stay at home mom.
That’s all I could think of for now, but if you have any more phrases that you think sound like maybe they could really be code for something else, don’t hesitate to let me know in the comments.
The one where I tell you why I disappeared….
Yes, I have been gone two weeks. TWO WHOLE WEEKS. I know you were inconsolable during my absence. You were brave, you tried to hold up. I admire that about you. Keep on, keepin’ on or whatever it is people say.
Yes, but the burning question. WHERE WAS I?
Good question.
Answer: GOING FUCKING CRAZY
That is no lie. I know what you you’re thinking – I am already crazy, so how did I add more to it? Talent, folks, talent.
Actually, it creeped upon me in a very unusual way. In an email. In a lot of emails. Suddenly, I couldn’t answer emails. I was so scared of getting behind in something that I couldn’t answer one email for fear of forgetting another. And then deadlines were passing, projects were crumbling, and I was in the deer in the headlights. Of course, I handled it in my normal calm way, but looking in the mirror and shouting at myself: WHO DOES THIS SHIT?
Me is the answer. Yes, I was beset by the anxiety plague. Let me tell you that shit blows. Hard.
In addition, I had quietly came upon the second year of this blog and it was time for a little introspection. Did I want to continue? Is it worth the effort? Well, here I am. Not because I actually answered those questions but because I did not want to leave you grieving.
I’m here for you.
Except when I’m not.
But today? Today I totally am, and for the first time in about eight weeks I was able to answer some email. TAKE THAT GMAIL!
I’m BACK baby!
Celebrating Six Things
Tonight is #sixthings. My friend Laverne over at Kindred Adventures wrote a great post about it. Thank you, Laverne!
She also made a great button, please feel free to grab and post it! And then join on us on twitter for #sixthings at 8pm (EST) and tell us what makes you interesting.
What’s your number?
Recently there was a silly movie called ‘What’s your number?’ Don’t worry if you don’t remember it, it isn’t worth seeing or remembering. But the premise of the movie caught my attention. Here is the IMDB synopsis;
A woman looks back at the past twenty men she’s had relationships with in her life and wonders if one of them might be her one true love.
Got that? A woman who realizes she has had twenty relationships/lovers/boyfriends reads (in some magazine) that she has had too many relationships/lovers/boyfriends to find true love. She sets off to find all of her old boyfriends, convinced that she has missed the love of her life. I am not even going to touch the premise of the move, so insulting is it. Go ahead and fume at home. I have other things to talk about.
It got me thinking. What is in that number? You may not know this, but I know my number. I’m going to tell you what it is in a moment. First, what does this number mean to you? Don’t fool yourself into thinking you are not judged on it. According to a recent poll:
Cosmopolitan and AskMen.com recently surveyed thousands of women and asked them what they considered to be a woman’s “slut number”: 37 percent said it was 20 sexual partners, 35 percent said it was 10, and 16 percent said it was 50. Just 9 percent of respondents said a woman can never be a slut.
What is wrong with this? First, the terminology. “Slut number”? Really? I have never seen an episode of Sex and the City, but I know the archetypes of the women portrayed, and I’d rather be a Samantha than a Carrie any day. ANY DAY. Do you know how grateful I am for my number? Each person who makes up that number has been a learning experience. I know what works for me and what doesn’t, what turns me on and what turns me off. I know how to vocalize all those things to my partner. I also know what men like even when they don’t know how to vocalize it.
But many of those sexual encounters were easily forgotten, and for that I am little wistful. Too much time with a sexually incompatible partners led to boredom, and a jaded view of sex. All of this before I married my (now) ex at 25. (For reference, I did not start having sex until I was 18). Even my ex and I weren’t sexually compatible. That should be no surprise to anyone. I don’t care how bad things are in your marriage, if you are having hot sex things are usually going to work out. Now, again I have to stop and say this. That is not a dig at my ex, nor a comment on his sexual performance. It is only a statement that we were not sexually compatible. It led to a loss of closeness in our marriage early on and loss of intimacy near the end.
Back to my number. Ahem.
I look at my daughter. Do I want her to have the same number? The honest answer is ‘I don’t know’. Is she having sex because she is comfortable with her sexuality and her body or is she having sex to fill an empty void left by someone or something? If it the former, then go get busy. If it is the latter, then slow down and have look at what is wrong. Also, do not start having sex until you are 30. Thanks.
I reject the idea that women have a slut number. I reject the idea that I am ashamed of my number because it is high. I reject the idea that I forfeited true love by sleeping with more than a certain number of people. I reject the idea that I have found my sexual soul mate (because if that’s true, men, you need to step up your game. No joke.) and discarded him, I reject the idea that I won’t find my sexual other half. And above all I reject Anna Faris movies.
So what is my number?
40 (39 of those before I married at 25)
Seem high to you? Well, I am taking a walk down my sexual memory lane as I write this. And I am smiling. This is all that matters to me.
Bring on number 41.
Do you want to vote?
I’m not going to lie, it’s a pain. You have to sign up and register and all that crap. But if you want, it is time again for the Mobbies. So here’s the link. Do your thing. If you want.
Also, you can vote everyday. woohoo!
And after you do that it will take you to…
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Buy this awesome thing!
#Sixthings
