Okay, really, I just have to say something. I don't know if any of you keep up with my little section over there called "Search Engine Terms That Bring People Here", and I don't know if you understand what that means or how it works. Here's a short explanation from a person who is pretty much a tech-dumby (me): let's say you go to Google and search for Etsy, and the first link that comes up is Etsy and you click on it and it takes you to Etsy. Okay, let's say you type in something less specific, like "boot cut jeans". After a few sponsored links, there's a link to an article on Wikipedia called "jeans" and then a link to the Levi's website, etc. etc. etc.

Well, apparently if you search "sexy old ladies" or "porn appendectomy" or "flu sex", one of the links in the list that comes up is to this blog, this one right here, and someone somewhere has actually searched these terms and ended up at my blog.

So I'm looking through this morning for anything new or interesting that all you FUCKED UP weirdos have been looking for on the World Wide Web, and someone is looking for "sexy douche pictures". And, you know, I figured I'd help a brotha out (It has to be a dude, right?).

Looking for a sexy douche can be a tricky, tricky thing.

Perhaps you're looking for the douche who might need help turning door-knobs:



Or maybe a gap-toothed douche:



Black douche:



A couple of white douchi:



Many, many douchi:



A very rich douche:



An inexperienced, future-rich douche:



Two of the stupidest douchi you've ever seen:



A couple of ironic douchi:



No really:



And then of course there is the reigning Doucho Supremo:



Sexy douche pictures: you're welcome. I like to be helpful.

I am in love with J.D. Salinger.

Some quotes from this Wikiquote article on J.D. Salinger:

He said I was unequipped to meet life because I had no sense of humor.

The fact is always obvious much too late, but the most singular difference between happiness and joy is that happiness is a solid and joy a liquid.

Life is a gift horse in my opinion.

You'd better get busy, though, buddy. The goddam sands run out on you every time you turn around. I know what I'm talking about. You're lucky if you get time to sneeze in this goddam phenomenal world.

She said she knew she was able to fly because when she came down she always had dust on her fingers from touching the lightbulbs.

I'm a kind of paranoiac in reverse. I suspect people of plotting to make me happy.

Marriage partners are to serve each other. Elevate, help, teach, strengthen each other, but above all, serve. Raise their children honorably, lovingly and with detachment. A child is a guest in the house, to be loved and respected - never possessed, since he belongs to God. How wonderful, how sane, how beautifully difficult, and therefore true.

Please accept from me this unpretentious bouquet of very early-blooming parentheses: (((()))).

What is it but a low form of prayer when he or Les or anybody else God-damns everything? I can't believe God recognizes any form of blasphemy. It's a prissy word invented by the clergy.

How terrible it is when you say I love you and the person on the other end shouts back 'What?'

Spreading it thin.

And now I'm writing a movie blog. It shall be one part critique and three parts ass.

The low tonight is 8 degrees farenheit. I need a hot toddy.

One of my favorite bitches came over last night to cut some of my hair off. Good times.

It's funny how things turn out. So much of what I hear these days is at once predictable and surprising.

Reed has noticed my perplexedness lately. "Don't be sad, mommy." He breaks my heart. I have been taking some very good advice and telling him, "Yes, I'm sad, but it will go away in a minute. I love you." That seems to help.

I am working on my life in a lot of ways, and letting it go in a lot of ways. I am writing a lot and coming up with new ideas. I'm working at a great job.

I'm about to change a lot of behaviors that I thought were for the best, for me and for everybody, but I realize now were only hurting me and keeping everyone else in the dark. This just goes back to my saying that I'm going to trust myself more and be more vocal about what's going on in my head and heart. I think it helps me to say it over and over, to remind myself that I'm supposed to be telling folks what's bothering me. I am just so accustomed to trying to be nice all that time, to trying not to stir anything up, trying to smooth things over. It's hard to change behaviors that are so ingrained in me that they come like reflexes, just pop up quickly without my even thinking about it. I am retraining myself to stop and think about it, think about my feelings, what I'd really like to say.

Some people are born without a filter between their brains and their mouths. I need to trim mine back a little. Please pass the scissors.

Have you ever wondered what all has happened on January 15th throughout history?

A day in the life of Buffy's iPod.

I figured Doolittle would be a perfectly good album to start off the morning with. Nothing says "Christmas! Baby Jesus!" like "Whores at the door, whore in my bed."

Then onto my own mix of David Bowie, both oldies and newsies. Starman is my groove right now: it makes me feel resplendent.

Then I listened to Maggie May by Rod Stewart. That one makes me feel kind of kicky in a I-KNOW-WHAT-IT-IS-TO-BE-WRONGED-BUT-FUCK-ALL-I'M-ALIVE kind of way. "Maggie, I wish I'd never seen your face."

I went for Saves the Day, Stay What You Are, in the spirit of rememberance and nostalgia. I associate a lot of these songs with several different people, Josh and Stephanie and Adam, mostly; also with my old apartment, a tiny little efficiency that, if intense memories took up space, would never even begin to hold even a tenth of what I associate with it, love and fights and beginnings and endings and hangovers and sleep and music and screaming and laughing and gathering and drinking and eating, saying hello and saying goodbye. "Well here I am, don't know how to say this. Only thing I know is awkward silence. Your eyelids close when you're around me to shut me out."

Then I suddenly wanted Toadies, Hell Below/Stars Above- sexy, sexy music that makes me think about sexin' up my husband. Nothing like some hard and fast guitar and a little bit of screaming. "Swimming in pride, my sweet thing. It's such a pretty night for losing our innocence, our tenderness. It's all been kissed away, and now you know you're a free soul, and you can't fight that little sin." Also, "Chase the stars as they fall down and light up where you are; they are yours for the keeping. Trace the curves of the sheets, a riddle of desire when I watch you sleeping."

Then I listened to Wallflower Girl by Better Than Ezra. I really like this band although I don't listen to them very often. The band makes me think of my old friend Nicki; we used to sing their songs and laugh. I don't see her any more and I don't know where she is. This song, though, makes me think of being 18 or 19, not because I was a wallflower girl, but because I loved LOVED this song. That's about the time that I found my singing voice, found my inner musician, found myself, the self that I am now. "Well you used to read the tarrot cards but you don't like what you find. Well I suppose we both know your future anyway." I listened to it twice.

I have a short day at work today, so I've decided to close out the day with Erotic City by George Clinton. It makes me feel like dancin'. Nothing like the F word on a religious holiday. I'm going to dance my way out of here in a minute. Y'all have a merry Christmas.

Don't hate the player- hate the game.

I'm not really sure how to respond to this comment; it's really all over the place.

First, I'm sure that A and B are connected. Most feelings, opinions, and ideas people have are interconnected.

Second, I wasn't raised to think that "evil controls the world" and I was CERTAINLY not raised to think that I am powerless. I was raised to understand that just because someone is the president, or a senator or governor, or a politician in general doesn't mean that they are a good person, or a smart person, or that they have people's best interests at heart. For a lot of people that is a no-brainer, but let's be honest: there are people who don't realize that.

Third, my feelings of depression, anger, helplessness and doom grew out of a nasty case of post-partum depression. They may be deep-seated, but they don't stem from the way I was raised. I wouldn't say that I have ever been perfect, but I can say with total certainty that until after I had a baby I had never felt totally hopeless, never felt like my life might never change, never felt that I might feel this awful forever and that it might effect my family, my relationships, my ability to cope.

Fourth, I think I heap a generous helping of blame on myself as well as other things that I can control. Besides those two crabby dudes that hang out in the balcony on the Muppets, no one lives inside my head and therefore most people aren't aware of all the many things I blame on myself, and all the effort, the sheer infinity of mantras and prayers and notes that I make to remind myself to fix mistakes and stay on track and make things better for my family, my friends, and myself. And I guess all I can say is that it's working okay. I'm not great, but I'm not dead, and that's a good thing.

Thanks for your questions.

How's anonymous internet-hating working for you?

Schmeitgeist.

Oh, Lordy.

I know that I start a lot of posts that way these days, but I seriously go about my day thinking that phrase, shaking my head, and taking deep breaths.

I finally watched Zeitgeist with Jason today.

Let me just say that he's been talking/raving/freaking out about this movie for a couple of months now. I refused to watch it for this long for a couple of reasons:

A) I have always hated the government, resented it, understood how duped we all are. I don't know everything and there was certainly a lot of stuff in this film that I didn't know, but at the basis of all my thoughts and curiosities has been that the government=bad. I was raised by MY MOTHER, for shit's sakes; if you know me, you know what that means.

B) I've been having a rough time with depression, anger, and hopelessness over the last few months. Now is not the time for a movie that shows me every way in which I am stupid, every way in which I am doomed, every way in which all the bad things that happen to and in this country are the fault of THIS COUNTRY, or at least the the fault of the powerful few at the top of this country.

I didn't really have much to say after it was over. I was just kind of, "Yep. That's what I thought- that I would want to crawl under the bed after I watched it."

If anyone else wants to feel the need to crawl under the bed, you really should watch it. Also I'm absolutely aware that one musn't believe everything one hears/reads/sees on the internet. Let's just say that a lot of this hit awfully close to ideas that I've had before. It's all just a little overwhelming.

In other news I just want to say that someone I love very much found out that he has Crohn's disease. I just wanted to say that I'm thinking about you and I know everything will be okay.

Today I did something fun.

I donated a whole lot of hair to Locks of Love.



Here I am before I left this morning (with wet hair):



And here I am now (after much sweating and kid-wrangling):



Tomorrow I will style it and take more pictures.

My best impression of what will send me to an early grave:

"MONEY MONEY MONEY! I WANT SOME MONEY! GIVE ME SOME MONEY! YOU PAY FOR IT! I WON'T PAY FOR IT! WHY WOULD I PAY FOR IT WHEN I CAN JUST SIT HERE AND SAY THAT I WON'T?! I WANT TO NEVER SEE THEM AGAIN AND GET PAID FOR IT! YOU TAKE 'EM AND AS LONG AS YOU'RE COMING BY YOU CAN JUST DROP OFF THAT CHECK! WHY WOULD I PAY FOR THEIR CLOTHES OR SUPPLIES OR FOOD?! WHERE IS MY GOD-DAMNED MONEY?! I'M GOING TO GET THERE LATE BUT WHEN I PULL UP YOU HAVE MY MONEY READY! MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY!"

On the proving of points.

So Kane and Jude's mom called them last night on Jude's cellphone- DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED OF COURSE I KNOW HE'S TOO YOUNG TO HAVE A CELLPHONE- and I overheard both Jude and Kane saying something about how Fridays were pretty much "off days" for them and they could "totally" miss that day and it wouldn't matter, etc. Being as shameless of an enforcer as I am, I immediately brought it up with them after they got off the phone.

Turns out she figured it would be a GREAT idea if they went to her house a day early (Thursday instead of Friday) so they could go to the MIDNIGHT PREMIERE of Ironman. ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. Because they can just totally miss school on Friday. Since it's an off day and all.

Listen, I am not nearly as much of an over-reactor or hard-ass or wet blanket as I may seem on this blog. But FOR THE LOVE OF MY SANITY, PLEASE, PEOPLE. Right when she is saying they ought to be living with her during the school year, right when I have already been re-iterating to folks that one of the main reasons that Kane and Jude live with us is that they missed school all the time when they lived with her, right when she expects us to agree with her that it would be in their best interests to totally change school systems and daily routines, THEN SHE DOES THIS.

Nevermind the fact that Jude has a field trip on Friday that we've already paid for. Nevermind the fact that Jude missed so many days from the flu and the ear infection he had the next week that now he has to have a doctor's excuse to miss any more. Nevermind the GLARING OBVIOSITY of his EIGHTNESS (because, and I'm sorry to be such a square, but really? An eight-year-old at a midnight premiere?).

Thank you, mom, for proving my point. This list I'm making titled "Reasons Why This Plan Is Ludicrous" just got one item longer.

No carns, no mums, no babies breath.

The weather has been so summery, so breezy and comfortable and sunny and happy, that this sudden cold spell is making me very grumpy. I'm cold and irritated and my nostrils hurt.

But Reed made me feel better a moment ago. He's obsessed with this little pink pirate dude that came with a pirate ship bath set his Grandmommy 'Cile gave him for his first birthday, and he takes it with him to bathe every night. When Jason was getting him out of the tub, I heard Reed saying "I give it to mommy! I give it to mommy!" Jason brought him in to me (into my crack den, where I smoke the crack), and he handed it to me and said, "There, mommy. He loves you."

Just about as sweet as it gets.

It's like a midget rodeo around here lately. My two-year-old does handstands- I am not shitting you.

The past few days I've thought about little else besides getting ready for our show at Speakeasy this Thursday night. There is a lot of photo-matting that must be done, and I'm feeling kind of nervous. I've been right on top of Jason, reminding him to print this and paint that and go get stuff and check stuff out. It's MARVELOUS for our marriage, as well as for Jason's opinion of me. He thinks I'm great. Really. The nagging- that's sexy. Just a little marriage advice from me to you.

At work today, I learned how to make corsages. It's a big deal, and I'm very excited about the learning because the more I know about what I do, the more valuable I become. That and one day I will rule the world, and the ruler of the world must wear the best corsages on a daily basis. Now I know how to make my own.

"hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

DSC_0109.jpg
Originally uploaded by buffpuff

I'm waiting patiently for my ribs to heal. This has happened before, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

I'm really excited about our show at Speakeasy on April 17. It feels really good to be working towards something. Jason is working on some amazing paintings, and I have a whole lot of new jewelry to show off. We have a new lens and it's amazing; we've been hired to photograph a few upcoming weddings, and I'm feeling good about the future.

Jason's infinitely rad brother fixed his car, so we don't have to worry about that. Jason is about to fix the plumbing, so we're about to not have to worry about that.

Things get rough around here sometimes, and I'm lucky that I am surrounded by people who care and want to know what's going on and want to help. It's like a roller coaster- I feel bad and worried, and then I feel good and hopeful.

My karma is loving me, and I'm loving it back. I work hard to take care of three little people who aren't able to do anything but depend on me, and I work hard to make my husband glad that he knows me. i work hard to attempt to give back to all the people who take such good care of me. I may never repay all of you, but I will keep trying.

Love, Buffy.

Coming home from a trip is always depressing for me; I'm not really sure, maybe it's the end of something I've looked forward to, or having to leave the people I've been dying to see, or going back to work, or going back to a stinky catbox and moldy leftovers in the fridge. Whatever it is, it's the way it's always been.

Today I'm particularly overwhelmed; I'm not afraid to reveal that I am having the first period I've had since the beginning of November. It has been a while, and the intense rush of hormones is really hitting me hard tonight. The melancholy and fear and loneliness and just the absolute ache, it's like a large blunt object hitting me in the back of my head from inside my stomach.

It's a bad night for the Oscars, and YES, the Oscars should always be planned around my menstrual cycles, because every speech and every look and all the subject matter is just keeping me in tears and I'm running out of tissues.

I've always been a movie-watcher, a person who enjoys films- comedies, tragedies, documentaries, musicals, cartoons, whatever there is. There was a time when I knew a lot about film, the making of, the content of, the best actors and best performances. I am no longer so much in the know. Since I had Reed I have been, shall we say, emotional, and it makes me avoid things that bring too much to the surface. Really, the sadness or fear or regret that a good movie brings out in me will last days, sometimes weeks, and I've found myself in a place where I just don't even pay attention to what's coming out and what's on dvd and what's nominated and who's a hopeful, if only as a defense mechanism. I'm too afraid, really, of what I might feel and how long it might take to go away to get involved. It's sad, because when I was invited to join an Oscar pool I realized that I hadn't seen a single film that had been nominated in any category this year. While it's true that the pool was about guesses, whether educated or not, and I was welcome to join in and give my best guess regardless, it's still sad to think how much good shit I'm missing. I mean, I'm thoroughly aware that I chose not to see the movies, that this isn't something that is being done to me or something that is just happening to me, but it's still all sad.

In other words, I'd be sad if I was watching them, and now I'm sad that I'm not watching them.

Right now someone needs to be handing Jason a medal for staying married to me.

Anyway, I decided that I would write the Oscar speech that I will give if ever I win one. I mean, with all those speeches about not giving up and never recognizing the impossible, I am realizing that I could one day win an Oscar in any one of the many categories. So I decided to think about what I'd like to say.

Thank you to the Academy for recognizing my intense dedication to my craft. This Oscar for Best Jokes Ever/Most Stylish, Affordable, and Unique Jewelry Ever/Best Most Serious Actress/Best Friend/Most Attention to the Picking Up of Socks/Best On-Set Cheerleader/Best Keep-Your-Drinks-Full Lady really means so much, because it reinforces my deep love of actors, movies, entertainment, and the art of getting away from it all (thank you, Jack Nicholson).

Thank you to my husband for being able to deal with it all, for taking care of my children when I can't, and for being so supportive, attentive, unwavering, trustworthy, and so different from every other man I've ever spent any time with.

Thank you to all the other people in the film- Johnny Depp, Leonardo DiCaprio, Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Çasey Affleck, I love you all. I'm sorry that I can't say yes to all of your lovely, heartfelt marriage proposals, but Jason Agan is a sexy motherfucker, too hot for words really, but just in case he ever wises up and leaves me I'll keep your numbers so I can call you and cry and read you haikus that I wrote for Jason that he won't respond to when I send them to him on Myspace.

Thank you to Russell Means, Sherman Alexie, John Kennedy Toole, and Kurt Vonnegut for writing that makes me at once so sorrowful and joyous that it has inspired me to keep living, if only to see if maybe life is as interesting, as heart-breaking, as unforgiving and callous, as rewarding as you all make it out to be.

Thank you, finally, to God and my mother for bringing me into this world that is so terrifying, horrifying, beautiful, and odd, but bringing me into a particular place where I am not in the middle of a war, not physically or mentally abused, not afraid for my life (in an immediate sense), not homeless, not alone, not forsaken. Thank you both for giving me this life in which I am surrounded by these crazy, ridiculous people who love me and take care of me, without whom I would be so lost, so lonely, so abjectly pointless, that I would have to just bash myself on the head with this Oscar and get it over with. Thank you for bringing me into a world where there is a Reed to talk to me about playing guitar with his pick, where there is an Aunt CJ and an Uncle Rog to laugh with me and remind me why life should be celebrated and to teach me how to make a latte, where there is a Kristi to come home to even if I have to wait a few days because she's in law school WHAT AN EXCUSE, where there are beaches and big water and sand and family and parties and dancing. AND DANCING.

Thank you, Nick Agan, for not ripping my arms out of their sockets. This has allowed me to keep writing, keep typing, and keep picking my nose at red lights.

And thank you, True Baker, for just letting me know that there exists a seven-foot-tall, John Kennedy, Jr. look-alike who is sweet and loves his mother and asks me to dance. You may not be quite as sexy as my tattooed, red-headed husband, but that's an awful lot to live up to, especially with all that equine-vetting you have to do, and I will definitely recommend you to all of my friends.