#kathy-ass motherfuckers

[mieczyhale]

someone:: fight for all marginalized people, even the ones you don't like or agree with

you fuckers:: yes! except zionists : )

someone:: all humans deserve to live in safety

you fuckers:: true! but not zionists

someone:: *insert literally any sentiment on humanity and support and love and safety*

you fuckers, apparently unable to stop yourselves:: this!! zionists not included tho

me::

[wawamouse]

Oz Rewatch 3: S5E02: Laws of Gravity

Plotlines:

Miguel and Chico at odds, Miguel makes the deal to get stabbed

Augustus and Burr talk about his mother

Rebadow’s grandson needs a bone marrow transplant; Rebadow becomes obsessed with finding the cure to leukemia in herbal medicine and decides he needs to raise money to pursue the cure in alternative medicine

O’Reily turns Stanton on Montgomery, who Stanton then stabs

Suzanne gets her sentence commuted to 2 years of community service and starts a theater program at Oz; Ryan introduces her to Cyril

Brass returns to Oz, Eleanor O’Connor arrives at Oz

Schillinger is sad about Jewel going to Montana

Pancamo flashback; Peter Schibetta returns to Em City; Pancamo is interrogated by the FBI over Hank Schillinger; Robson shanks Pancamo; because Pancamo is revealed to be behind the hit on Hank, Keller is to return to Oz

Angry!Said gets put on Omar babysitting duty

Mukada and Kirk argue; Kirk tells Burns to kill Cloutier; Cloutier appears to Burns in a vision, telling him to kill Hoyt, who then kills Burns; Cloutier appears to Hoyt in the Hole

Sister: Which one? Miguel: ...Being that you only got one good eye, droopy-eyed motherfucker Sister: That’s what I said!

Sister: THAT’S what he got from the old man’s speech?

Sister: What’s his vendetta again? Me: Uhh…

Sister: [Sister] don’t want to watch this. So embarrassing. (holds up blanket and peers over to watch)

Sister: A fellow bisexual!

Sister: He’s like a little gremlin.

Sister: Off to disappoint his mother.

Sister: Tell her about the chicken incident! Me: What chicken—oh, right. Sister: Mr. Muttonchops (Beecher). Me: Yeah. Sister: Turned him into a rotisserie chicken. Me: I got that.

Sister: Why are you back?? You should be suing their asses off and retiring. Me: Maybe their union sucks… Sister: Look, he’s still limping even. He should be on worker’s comp… He still needs physical therapy…

Sister: Who are these random people sitting at the table? Me: Well, they did one time say that there are 10 other units like Unit B, so they’d have to have other unit managers I guess…

Sister: How does his friend not know who his ex-wife is? Me: I think they were like friends when they were younger. Sister: Or they weren't married that long...

Sister: He’s just trying to stir up shit.

Sister: He’s getting the Chinese athletes treatment.

Sister: He’s getting the military treatment.

Sister: I don’t like it when people use the toilet as a chair. Especially if then they get on their bed later. Gross! (Said gets on his bed) Sister: NOOO!

Sister: Wow...

Stray Thoughts

Sister was very gleeful over Eleanor being McManus’s ex because it means not another workplace relationship storyline

Stab count: 3 (and today is national knife day!)

While watching this episode, I noticed that the camera direction felt more ambitious/had more intention. Out of curiosity, I went to check and IMDb says that this episode was directed by Kathy Bates!

Sister: Did you notice the only one they didn’t give a grieving arc to in this episode was [Arif]? All the other characters with relatives on the bus got a little storyline.

[gar0uu]

changed by the unchangeable (part 1/?) story will be continued on my wattpad!!

word count: 2,112 or sum

My stomach was in knots as I walked through the cafeteria. Every. Single. Time. 

It was always the same, the stares.  

Mom says, “They’re curious.”  

Well, Mom can go fuck herself.  

Of course, I had gotten used to it now. The prying eyes, the fucking snickers.

“Why does she walk like that? Does it hurt? I feel bad for her.” I hear a laugh.  

One) It doesn’t hurt. Two) Fuck your pity. My whole life I've been pitied. Pity can suck my dick. And so can they.  

I looked straightforward. You know, after looking at your feet your whole life, it gets tiring. I stared those motherfuckers right in the face, raising my eyebrows. This is when they all look away.  

I smile to myself. They’re so confident until I make eye contact. It’s laughable. A bunch of cowards.  

I made my way over to a table with two boys. Only empty table.  

“Hey,” I said. “Can I sit here?”  

“Oh, I don’t know...there’s a line waiting to sit at this table. We’re pretty popular, you know,” one of the boys spoke. His eyes were playful. He was pale, had chocolate brown hair. He looked weak.  

The boy next to him was staring at the table, hunched up. Trying to make himself look invisible. Knew that feeling all too well.  

He looked up at me, and he had that look in his blue eyes. Fear. He had a scar on his upper lip, when he saw me looking at it, he self-consciously reached his hand up to cover it.  

“Don’t worry. I’m not judging,” I smiled.  

He stared and I sat down.  

The other boy, the weak one, said, “that’s Eli. A man of few words. I’m Demetri.”  

“Nice to meet you guys.” I said my name.  

“You know,” Demetri smiled, his eyes glittering. “Eli was talking about you before you came over here. I think it’s fate.”  

Eli groaned. “Shut up, Demetri! I was not!”  

A quiet, cowardly voice. I was that person once.  

I chuckled. “It wasn’t mean, was it? If it was, I might have to beat your ass.”  

I raised my brows at the blue-eyed boy.  He shook his head quickly.  

“No! I wouldn’t.”  

Demetri laughed. “Nah., He thought you were pretty, though.” He wiggled his eyebrows teasingly.  

Eli quickly covered his face with his hands. “Demetri!”  

I held back a smile. “You’ll have to take a number, then. I got men and women linin’ up for me.”  

I leaned back against the chair, laughing at my own joke.  

“I’m sure,” Demetri rolled his eyes.

“Hey! You don’t believe me? Loser. Tch.”  

I heard a chuckle and looked over toward Eli. He was laughing.  

My heart jumped. Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me. He’s just a boy.  

“Oh, did I make the man of few words laugh? Guess you’ll have to pay me now.”

“Pay you? For what?” Eli shook his head, still laughing.  

“For my comedic services, obviously. It’s hard being this funny.”  

He smacks his teeth. “Oh, yeah? So, there isn’t a 101 Funny Jokes book in your bag?”  

I gasp, pretending to be hurt. “How could you? Getting my amazing jokes from a book? I’m just natural.”  

I looked over to Demetri, waiting for his sarcastic reply. Instead, he was silent, looking over my shoulder. He elbowed Eli.  

“Shh! Kyler’s coming over here.”  

Eli went silent as well, going back to his shell.  

I laughed. “Kyler. Who the fuck names their kid Kyler? Kinda feel bad for the dude.”  

Demetri made pleading eyes with me, mouthing, “shut up!”

“I see you guys have made an addition to the loser table,” a voice said behind me, laughing.  

I turned. “Who the fuck you calling a loser? Have you looked into the mirror lately?” I sneered at him. He had a pathetic Mohawk, black hair. His face looked punchable.  

“Hey!” Demetri whisper-yelled. “You’re gonna get your ass beat.”  

“Yeah, yeah,” I dismissed him with my hand. “Like to see this bitch try.”  

“I see you have an attitude, bitch. Looks like I need to put you in your place,” Kyler said and I stood up, grinning.  

“I’ve heard worse, from better.” I spat. “Fuck outta here.”  

“I don’t take orders from cripples.” He laughed, signaling his goons. “Get her.”  

Cripple. Cripple. He called me a cripple. I’ve heard that word so many times you’d think it wouldn’t affect me by now.  But it does.  

“You’re DEAD!” I snarled, with such hate in my voice, they all took a step back. “Fucking dead.”  

I walked towards him; his eyes full of surprise. Someone must’ve never told him off.  

I reared my fist back, using all my might and hit him square in the nose. He stumbled back, surprised and fell on his ass. While he was down, I straddled him, making sure he couldn’t get up. I balled my fist again, this time hitting the side of his face. I planned to break his teeth.  

I don’t know how many times I hit him. Next thing I knew, I was staring at a white ceiling. I looked around blinking.  

My head was pounding and my left hand felt broken.  

“What the...”  

“You’re awake. You passed out after the fight. You broke Kyler’s nose and knocked out three of his teeth. Suspended on the first day of school,” a woman said next to me.  

I looked over and saw a name tag, Nurse Kathy. An old lady, her hair graying. Her eyes were tired.  

I smacked my teeth, sitting up. “Only three teeth?”  

She gasped. “Are you serious? You did some serious damage, young lady! You should apologize to Kyler.”

I looked at her, and scoffed, “he’s a damn bully. I’m not apologizing for shit. When someone calls me a... cripple...” I grimaced. “They deserve everything they get from me.”  

“It’s just a word,” she replied.  

I whipped my head towards her and stood up. “So, if I call you a cunt, it’s just a word, right?”  

Her mouth formed an O shape and I ground my teeth together. “I'll take my leave.”

“Hey!” She yelled, “you can’t just leave!”

I ignored her, walking out. I had to find Eli and Demetri anyway.  

===

“Hey! Eli, Demetri!”  

They were standing at the bus stop, talking quickly.  

 “What the fuck was that? Now they’re gonna be aft-”  

“Demetri, shut up. She saved our asses. You should be thanking her.”  

I was surprised at Eli’s interruption of Demetri, and even more surprised when he put his arms around my waist, hugging me.

“Thank you,” he muttered. “Thank you.”  

“Y... you’re welcome? Um... I...”  

“What is it?” Eli separates himself from me, his hands on my shoulders. “You okay?”  

I nod my head. “Yes. I just wanted to say, I know what it’s like.”  

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, so I continue speaking.  

“I know what it’s like to be afraid of every person around you. Thinking they might make fun of you. I know what it’s like to want to give anything to change, one, single part of you. You’d give anything and everything, I know.”  

He brings his hand up to his lip again, but I grab his wrist.  “Don’t. It’s cool.”  

“You don’t know anything,” he sneers and I step back.

“Eli-”  

“Get away from me! You don’t know shit!”  

He turns and grabs Demetri’s arm. “Let’s go.”  

Demetri looks back at me, worried. I smile and jerk my head, signaling for him to go. I sigh.  

“Alone, once again,” I mumble.  

Do things ever change?

Eli

The girl’s words swirled in my head while laying on my bed. I was restless.  “I know what it’s like to want to give anything to change, one, single part of you.”  

My mind went back to her leg. Is that what she was talking about? Her limp? Kyler’s face comes to view in my mind. “I don’t take orders from cripples.”

When he said that... I almost got up. I was angry. But then, I saw her face. I saw that flash of grief in her eyes before it turned to rage. A rage that scared me to the core. I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt horrible for saying those things to her. I should’ve known better. She’s probably the only person in the school who understands how I really feel.  

Sure, Demetri relates. But he doesn’t understand. To not be able to cover up something you’ve had your whole life. You’d give anything and everything. Like she said.  

I groaned and rolled over, her face occupying my dreams.  

===

“Hey! Lip! Fuck-face.” I heard Kyler’s voice and groaned internally, but kept walking through the halls.  

“Guess your little cripple girlfriend isn’t here to help you now,” he mocked. I was pulled backward and my back slammed against a locker. I looked down.  

“She isn’t a cripple,” I mumbled.  

“What’d you say?” Kyler taunted.  

I thought for a moment. When she fought against Kyler, I was jealous. Jealous of how confident she was, how she carried herself as she walked over to our table. How easily the word fuck and bitch came out of her mouth. I thought of what she said.  

“Don’t worry. I’m not judging.”  

“Don’t. It’s cool.”

I thought of her eyes. The fire in them, that immediately drew me in, like a moth to a flame. I wanted to have that flame too.  

I want that flame too.  

“I said, she isn’t a cripple. You, on the other hand... she crippled your fuckin’ face.” I grinned.  

Kyler’s eyes widened, at least he tried to widen them, he had a black eye, the side of his face purple. His bottom lip was swollen.  

“I’m gonna fucking ki-”  

“Hey! Do I really gotta beat you to a pulp, AGAIN? Have you not learned your lesson, boy?”  

I looked over Kyler’s shoulder and saw the one and only. Was it just me, or had she gotten prettier overnight?

I shook my head.  

Kyler was silent as he ran off. She flicked him off behind his back before turning to me and I looked down.  

“Where’d that boost of confidence come from, Eli? I like it.” She grinned at me, putting her hand under my chin to lift up my head.

“Did he hurt you?” She examined my face with her prying eyes, and I went hot.  

“N-no...” I turned my neck, to get away from her curious look.  

She frowned. “What’s the matter? Your face is all red.”  

I took a deep breath and looked at her. She was inspecting me. “You aren’t, um, mad at me for yesterday?”  

She beamed at me. “No, dummy. I probably... went too far. I mean, I had just met you and I was already scrutinizing you. So, I’m sorry.”  

“No, don’t apologize. I was rude. I should be sorry.” I smiled sheepishly at her.  

She chuckled. “Nah. Let’s get to class. No apologizing.”  

“But-”  

“No buts either!” She laughed.  

I laughed with her. “Alright. Can I at least thank you for saving my ass?”

“You can pay me. No, I’m kidding. But seriously, where’d that confidence come from? ‘She crippled your fuckin’ face?’ That was cool as hell.” She looked at me expectantly.  

“It came from you.” I spoke. “The confidence. I’m honestly jealous of how confident you carry yourself. How do you do it?”  

She burst out laughing. “Hmm... A magician never reveals their secrets.”  

“Oh, come on! Please...!” I playfully pouted, making puppy dog eyes and she giggled.  

“Who cares? We’re all gonna die, you know. So, why give a flying fuck about people who won’t matter in 5 years... Except they’ll remember you, as the person who put them in their place.”  

She grinned and her eyes, honestly, scared me. They were cold and dark.  

She raised her eyebrows. “Hell, in a few years, those same people might even be working for you. They’ll call you Boss. And you’ll give them their pay. Bullies are pathetic and insecure. Are you really gonna let little bitches affect you? Put them in their place.”  

I stared at her.  

“You are the coolest person I’ve ever met.” I blurted.  

She looked surprised before chuckling. “I know. Anyways, I gotta get to class, mmkay? Think about what I said, real hard. It’ll be hard, at first, changing your mindset; but once you do, it’ll be the best thing you ever did, you know, besides meeting me.” She giggled and I scoffed playfully. “Adieu.”  

I watched her walk away.  

Time to flip the script.  

~~~

yes this is sort of a self insert cuz no one writes for bitches with limps. except me cuz i am one. yea, ur welcome. also im in love with hawks. *punches him in the face with love*

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

I Wonder What It’s Like (2/3) - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jon Kent, Kathy Brandon Pairing: jondami Summary: Damian is a mess. A big, sappy, romantic mess. A/N: This hot *~garbage~*. Sorry.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

~~

He was just walking down the hallway in their team’s shared apartment. A loft that overlooked the city of Chicago, the ridiculous rent paid for by his father, no questions asked.

The little kitten he’d found on patrol the night before was pattering excitedly after him as he walked, Titus protectively on the little thing’s tail while she meowed loudly. Damian was laughing as he walked, and had just felt her jump at his ankle and stumble, so turned to make sure she was righting herself.

But then he froze.

In his attempt to glance down at the kitten, his gaze caught movement nearby, in the bedroom he was passing.

Jon’s bedroom.

The door was open and Jon stood there in front of a mirror, fiddling with the collar of a white dress shirt he was already practically busting out of. Not that Damian noticed the shirt too much. No, he was too busy staring at the perfectly form-fitting black slacks that hugged Jon’s ass and thighs – and that in the mirror he could clearly see they were not buttoned yet.

“Jon…”

He felt the name come out of his mouth without consent, and instantly snapped his lips closed, practically sucked them between his teeth.

Kept staring, though.

Refocused back on the shirt, on the sliver of chest he could still see, and the muscles rippling as Jon shifted. Stared at those long fingers fumbling against each other. Felt his breath catch in his throat, as Jon slowly glanced over his shoulder at him.

Jon blinked and his face brightened, and Damian – motherfucking Damian goddamn Wayne – felt his knees go weak as Jon smiled at him. As his violet eyes shone, and absolute joy radiated from his being.

“Hey, D.” He said. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I…” Damian cleared his throat, thanking his lucky stars. Jon had heard him, but he hadn’t heard his…tone. Good, that was good. As he exhaled his relief, he glanced down and saw the kitten, Titus still tight on her heels, stomping forward into Jon’s room. “Theadora!”

The kitten mewed grumpily as Damian stepped into the room and swooped her up into his hands. She wiggled even as he held her to his chest, and tried to bite at his fingers.

“We do not enter rooms uninvited.” He scolded, touching his finger to her nose. He looked back up at Jon. “My apologies.”

Jon snorted. “You know you and your animals are welcome any time. I don’t mind.” He turned back to the mirror. “In fact, I enjoy it. Always a nice break.”

Damian hummed, biting the words on his tongue. A nice break from what, doing nothing? No, that would be rude. He was working on not being rude, on saving the sarcasm for when it was warranted, not every word out of his mouth. He was better than that. He should be better than that.

(Especially to Jon.)

“…What’s the occasion?” Damian nodded towards him. “I don’t recall you being much into suits.”

“I’m not. It’s some shindig at the Planet. Mom’s getting an award. Again.” Jon chuckled as he rolled his eyes. “She said since I’m barely home any more the least I could do is come tonight.”

Damian couldn’t stop his eyes from darting downwards again. “I doubt it’s an…ahem…open-trouser affair…”

Internally, Damian winced at himself. It wasn’t sarcasm, but it was still rude. Jon wasn’t an idiot. Obviously he wasn’t done getting dressed. There was no need to tease. There was no need to open his stupid mouth.

But Jon laughed anyway. “I’m getting there, I’m getting there.” He stuck his tongue out thoughtfully, returning to his task at his collar. “I’m going to tuck my shirt in, but I can’t get these stupid buttons up top, here.” He tried for another second, then spun back to Damian. “A little help?”

Damian felt himself smiling, almost instinctively stepping forward. “Sure.”

Jon cooed as he grabbed Theadora from Damian’s hands, petting her as Damian took over button duty, gently folding the little round plastic through the fabric of the shirt. He ignored how close he was to Jon’s skin, how easily it would be to reach out and just touch him.

(Just caress his jaw, just lean forward and kiss him, just–)

The buttons were finished, and he quickly stepped back. Jon twisted his torso back towards the mirror. “Perfect.”

But then he turned back to Damian with a sheepish grin. “Help with one more thing?”

Damian shrugged.

And he watched, almost bewildered, as Jon didn’t give his kitten back (much to Titus’s disappointment in the doorway) but instead placed her on top of his head, right in the center of his nest of curls. Then he turned towards his bed, hastily shoving the shirt tails into those unbuttoned pants before grabbing a red ribbon that was lying across his comforter.

“I know you’re going to think it’s cheesy, but it’s kind of an inside thing between me and my dad.” He spun around, balancing Theadora perfectly, and held the ribbon out. “But I never learned how to properly tie one.”

Damian glanced between Jon’s kitten crown, and the ribbon in his hand. “A…bowtie?”

“It’s a thing, I promise. Inside joke.” He walked closer. “Please?”

Damian sighed, annoyed that his default exhale made him sound put off, when in reality, he really wasn’t. Not at all. He was happy to help.

He was always happy to help Jon.

But he took the ribbon and looped it carefully around Jon’s neck. Ignored the urge to pull the other forward with it, ignored those thoughts already popping back into his brain, and began to knot it.

“…I’m really only going to make my mom happy.” Jon let out his own sigh as he finally buttoned the stupid pants. Damian was happy to have a task, anything to stop him from looking down again. “These things are so boring.”

Damian snorted. “Welcome to my life.”

“Hey, I bet your dad will be there. And Diana. Apparently this is like. A huge award. Wouldn’t be surprised if Bruce Wayne showed up for some reason. You know, beyond my dad inviting him and Diana as a friends or something.”

“Unfortunately I do not know my father’s schedule.” Damian hummed. “I can call and ask if he or any of the family are going. While my siblings are complete Neanderthals, they might ease some of your boredom.”

“Or better yet…” Jon grinned. “Why don’t you just come with me? I’m sure no one will mind if I bring a plus-one. Besides, it’s been a while since you’ve been home too, right? Might be nice to see your dad.”

Damian laughed before he thought about it. “Absolutely not.”

And he wanted to absolutely stab himself, immediately, at the disappointment that flashed through Jon’s eyes, the way his smile faltered just a little. All because Damian laughed.

At him. In his face.

God, he was the worst.

“I mean,” Damian coughed. He slowly pulled Jon’s bowtie through its last loop, and then carefully tugged Theadora from Jon’s hair. “I’m on monitor duty tonight. And the girls are already out for their own night off.”

Jon’s grin, though it never disappeared, softened now. “D, when was the last time you took a night off?” Damian opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out because he didn’t have one. “The world would survive if all four of us were out acting like normal people for one night.”

“That’s how all apocalypse stories start, isn’t it?” Damian mumbled, keeping his gaze lowered. “Besides, if it’s like you said, half of the Justice League will be at this event. Someone needs to be out there watching.”

“No one said it had to be you.”

Damian glanced up, felt his cheeks warm as he realized Jon had stepped closer. Was staring gently down at him, that simple smile still on his face.

But Damian was a coward.

Emotions were a weakness. Wanting was selfish, and selfishness was unbecoming. Rejection was a useless pain and so easily avoidable.

He would not mess this up. He would not mess up one of the only friendships he had. He would not mess up Jon.

So he stepped back, an apologetic smile on his face. “Enjoy your party, Jonathan.”

He scurried from the room with his pets before he could see Jon frown.

~~

“Damian?!” Jon practically screamed, even over Maya’s attempts at soothing him. He smacked his hand against the door again. “D, please, just open the door!”

Damian, instead, turned away from it, rubbing his fist angrily against the tears pouring from his eyes.

“He just wants to help.” Kathy whispered from the desk. “You know him.”

“And he knows me.” Damian spat. “He knows better than to do this.”

“You just heard your mother might be dead, what else did you think he was going to do? Shrug it off and go play video games?” Kathy snapped back. “You’re his best friend, of course he’s going to want to comfort you. Take care of you.”

“I don’t need it. I don’t need comforted. I don’t need…” His face twisted in disgust. “Taken care of.” He shook his head. “I don’t even need you here.”

“Well, sucks I was there when Batman called and can move faster than you, huh?” Kathy smirked. “Jon may respect your boundaries, but that doesn’t mean I have to.” She let her smile drop. “Besides, I know what it’s like. Losing…questionable family. Not knowing how to feel about it. I…I get it.”

“…I know.” Damian sighed. Sniffed and ran his hand across his nose. “I know you do, Kathy. And I…despite everything, I do appreciate it.”

“Damian, please!” Jon whined.

“I can’t.” Damian whispered, twisting purposefully away from the door. “I…I can’t look at him right now.”

“Why, because he’s trying too hard? Or because he wouldn’t get it?”

“Both, maybe.” Damian shrugged, reaching for the tissue box on his nightstand. “And because…it’s embarrassing.”

“What is?”

“I’m mourning the not-yet-confirmed-death of a mass murderer, and here the son of fucking Superman wants to make sure I’m okay.” He shook his head. “This is not worth his time. I’m not worth his time. When’s he going to see that? Why does he think I am?”

“He’s your…best friend.” Kathy reiterated, but she seemed to struggle with the words. Like best friend wasn’t supposed to mean that. “He just wants to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am okay. I’m always okay.” He dabbed the tissue at his eyes. “I have to always be okay.”

“Why, because you’re the son of Batman and anything less than okay is a weakness?” Kathy mocked. “I thought you were over that line of thinking. Years ago.”

“It’s…I am, it’s not just that, it’s…” Damian sighed, dropped to sit on the edge of his bed. He pulled the photo of him and his mother back into his hands, the one he’d had in his desk drawer up until his father had called. “If I’m okay, people think I’m good. That I’m a good person.” He gently touched Talia’s face. The smile was warm in this photo. It wasn’t always. “If I’m not okay. I’ll…then I’ll go back to being bad. I’ll lose control. I’ll…be that monster again. The one I used to be.”

Kathy blinked. “And?”

Damian waited a beat. Listened as Jon continued to bang on the door, desperately call his name.

“Jon deserves better than a monster as a best friend.” Damian whispered.

“Wha…that’s it? You have to be okay for his benefit?” Kathy drawled. “That is the most convoluted bullshit I’ve ever heard. Especially because Jon loves you no matter how messed up you are. Jon loves all of us, no matter how messed up we all are.”

Damian remained silent. Listened as Jon pleaded with him still to open the door.

“Meanwhile he’s crumbling at the mere idea that something’s wrong with you and he can’t personally fix it.” Kathy grumbled, standing from the chair. She paused there, for a moment, looking between Damian and the door. “…You know?”

Damian glanced up at her.

“If you asked me, it almost sounds like you’re more upset about upsetting Jon than your mother potentially being dead.”

Damian didn’t answer the accusation, just shrunk deeper into himself, into his own brain. Let guilt swirl in his gut, both for Jon and Talia.

He closed his eyes. He truly was a monster, wasn’t he? In more ways than one.

After another second, Kathy sighed, and Damian opened his eyes to see her moving. “…You two, I swear.”

Damian watched as she walked over to the door, throwing it open.

“Jon!” She yelled. Jon jerked back at her tone. “Give it a rest, okay?!” Gentler, as he lowered his hand. “He’s fine. He just needs a little time to himself.”

Jon, the epitome of a kicked puppy, glanced over Kathy’s shoulder. “D?”

Damian sniffed, wiped at his eye. “It’s fine, Jon. I’ll…be out later.”

“You shouldn’t be alone right now, D.” Jon rattled off immediately. “I can-”

“You can leave him alone.” Maya cut off, pulling Jon back. “Now you saw him, okay? With your own eyes. He is alive and he’s in his room.”

“Damian…”

“Don’t worry on my account, Jon. Please.” Damian tried, offering a weak smile. It just made Jon frown deeper. “I’m fine. In fact, feel free to take Kathy with you.” Kathy glanced back at him. “I give you full permission to give him all the details of my father’s phone call, and everything we’ve talked about, if you believe it will help.”

Kathy looked at him for a moment, then rolled her eyes.

“You need therapy.” She sighed. Then she turned to Jon. “Both of you.”

Jon blinked dumbly as she took his other arm and began to pull him down the hall. Maya leaned into the room to grab his doorknob and gave him a wink.

“Preferably some couples therapy.” She hummed. “And, like, soon. Or Kathy and I are gonna lose our minds.”

She pulled the door shut. Damian just sighed, rubbed at his tears, and stared at the picture of his maybe-dead mother.

~~

Damian Wayne didn’t dream.

He had nightmares. He had flashbacks, absolutely. He woke up in cold sweats, screaming, crying, whatever. You name it.

But he didn’t dream. He had nightmares, or nothing at all.

So…this didn’t make sense. This didn’t make any sense. He was lucid, he knew this wasn’t real. He recognized it as a dream.

Because he didn’t own an antique shop.

But here he was, behind the counter of one, refurbishing an old cabinet, carefully painting along its edges, listening contently as a pair of customers were rung up.

By…by Jon.

“Thanks for stopping by K.W. and Sons. Have a great day!” He called as the old couple waved and walked out the front door, bell above the door chiming. As soon as the door slammed shut, Jon gave a happy sigh. Damian, still facing the cabinet, sensed more than heard Jon turn around. “…I still can’t believe you did it.”

“Hm?” Was all the response Damian had.

“I cannot believe you found the book Mr. Hamada used to propose to his wife.” Suddenly there was a weight on Damian’s back, arms wrapping around his waist. “Like…how do you find that? How do you even know where to start looking? They didn’t even realize they’d accidentally given it away until three years after the fact!”

“Well, for starters,” Damian laughed as Jon kissed his cheek. “It’s nice to know a private detective or two. Then it’s just a simple retracing of steps.” Damian placed his paintbrush along the edge of his paint tray. “Also – the internet is a great tool. There’s only so many books with the phrase ‘will you marry me?’ written in English and Japanese in the front cover. That kind of thing goes viral all the time.”

Jon hummed, leaning his chin into Damian’s shoulder. “Mrs. Hamada cried when I brought it out. It was sweet.”

“Such a shame I missed it.” Damian drawled cheekily. Jon squeezed his sides.

“Don’t be rude.”

Damian turned his head, keeping his smirk. “You love it when I’m rude.”

Jon hummed again, glancing downwards. Damian was so distracted by the lashes splaying across his rosy cheeks that he didn’t notice Jon dipping his finger into the pastel teal paint until he was dabbing it against his nose.

“I don’t know if I said love.”

“I don’t know.” Damian said thoughtfully, leaning over until his nose brushed Jon’s, smearing the paint against his skin as well. “I think you did.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“Nuh-uh, times a thousand.” Jon countered, dragging his nose along Damian’s jaw to make a bigger mess. At the same time, he squeezed Damian’s torso again in an attempted tickle. “No take-backsies.”

And despite the childishness, Damian laughed, leaned into Jon’s embrace. Accepted paint-filled butterfly kisses and real ones too. Gently twisted in Jon’s arms to face him completely, and take a tender hold of Jon’s face.

He had a beard here. A small one. And it was graying. How old were they? Do you age in dreams? Damian found himself not caring.

He let his laugh drop into a sigh, stroking a thumb across Jon’s face as he stared into his eyes. After a moment, he smiled. “I love you.”

Jon beamed. Like it was the first time he’d ever heard it. Like it was the only thing he ever wanted to hear in his whole life. He pressed his forehead to Damian’s and closed his eyes. “I-”

“I love you too.”

Damian jerked, his head shooting up.

Wha…what?

He blinked rapidly, wiping at his lip instinctively. There was drool there. Since when did he drool while he slept?

Since when was he sleeping?

He blinked a few more times, the room becoming clearer. It was still a dark space, but he recognized it. Their apartment living room. The girls were in the loveseat nearby, also asleep. There was light coming from the TV across the room.

Oh yeah. It was their monthly team movie night.

“You okay?” Came a whisper to his right. He flinched again, spinning around to see Jon staring down at him with an amused look. Damian let his eyes dart around, and the situation became clear.

He’d fallen asleep during the movie. On Jon’s shoulder.

And dear god, he was drooling.

“Uh…y-yeah.” Damian stuttered, throat dry. “Is the movie over?”

“Just about. Guess I’m the only one who made it.” Jon laughed softly. “I don’t blame you though. It’s pretty boring.”

Damian nodded silently, trying to look at anything but Jon. Glanced over to their teammates. No modesty there, Maya had Kathy’s head pressed to her breasts, her own legs contorted around Kathy’s waist. He frowned – there was no way that was comfortable for either of them. Freaks.

“You can…uh…go back to sleep, if you want.” Jon murmured. Damian turned back to him as he yawned. “I was about to fall asleep myself, actually. And…honestly, I don’t feel like getting up to go back to my own bed.” Even in the dark, Damian noticed Jon’s cheeks brighten. “And, uh…you’re warm.”

Damian smirked. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Jon snorted, fiddling with a nearby blanket, and throwing it over the both of them as Damian resituated himself closer. Without a word, Jon slouched, throwing his arm across the back of the sofa, forcing Damian closer into his side.

“Team slumber party.” Jon said absently. “Been a while since the four of us did one of these.”

“Indeed.” Damian breathed. His heart was pounding as dared to lay his head back on Jon’s shoulder. Waited for the other shoe to drop, waited for Jon to say something. To tell him off.

Instead, Jon just…leaned his head against Damian’s in return. Whispered: “Goodnight, Damian.”

Damian – giddy, frozen, and oh-so pleased – just closed his eyes once more.

“…Goodnight, Jon.”

[staygoldponebone]

The Outsiders as Chrish Vines

Pony: that is not correct because according to the encyclopedia of akdfalkdjfa;ldkj

Johnny: one rule here, and it’s do not lie. liars get stabbed to death here. other than that, it’s so chill 

Soda: she was like “that’s fine. it’s ok that you’re ugly. hahahahaha,” but i’ll remain pretty! yes! 

Darry: i may smile all the time, honey, but i got a mean fuckin’ backhand and i’m not afraid to use it on your ugly ass

Two-Bit: who, obama? oh, i’ve heard of him. he’s pretty good. i think his lyrics are really mellow and, like, thought out. it’s pretty interesting

Steve: 1+1=2, 2+2=4, 3+3=6, and you’re still a bitch! ha!

Dally: bitch, you ain’t smooth with anything you do and you ugly as hell, so you naturally stick out. ha. unfortunately.

Tim: like, i really wanna teach yoga and zen and over all centeredness, but i also like to really kill and stab people on the weekends... 

Curly: my favorite opera singer? uh, probably iggy 

Angela: 1, 2, 3, 4. that’s how many men are between those doors. sarah, you are a slut! get out of my house! 

Sylvia: can i ask a quick question? do you like it when your hair remains on your scalp or do you like to run your mouth and somebody rips that shit off? 

Sandy: to me, you’re actually extremely ugly, but to somebody else you’re attractive. it’s all about perspective

Evie: i didn’t hit you with my car. your car happened to get in my way and i was like “i ain’t gon’ stop here. i gotta go!”

Kathy: well, sarah said “could i try the solo this time?” and i said “fuCK YOU, YOU DUSTY-ASS, WACK BITCH!” 

Cherry: my two favorite drinks are probably the “shut-the-fuck-up-achino” and i also like the “try-me-one-more-motherfucking-time” latte.

Marcia: *wheezy laughter*

Randy: I LOVE JESUS DAMMIT!!! and that’s why I go to church on Sunday. 

Bob: you don’t like the christmas gift? oh. it’s not your color of lamborghini? well, shove it up your fuckin’ ass! 

~bonus~ 

Mama Mathews: hey! hey, hey. kids, kids. PATRICIA!!!! honey, can you be quiet? i’m just trying to do something. 

[hellyeahrpmemes]

※ MORE SHIT I HEARD AT COLLEGE ※

a thrilling saga of shit i’ve heard at college, continued; these are all from my second semester of sophomore year. feel free to change names/pronouns/etc.! more ‘shit i heard/said’ starters!

"Please clap for me.”

“I’m gonna be playing Spanish Sims.”

“Why do they need my middle fucking initial?”

“Just support me as a friend!”

“I don’t care if you think I’m being whiny as fuck, because I probably am, but still.”

“Scandal: professors are people.”

“We’re fucking men here, we have full-sized Rice Krispy Treats.”

“I ate a lot of yogurt, I had great digestive health.”

“There’s a shoe in the kitchen...?”

“I don’t really eat meat, but I’d fuck with some Chick-Fil-A.”

“I could write a whole thesis on how men ain’t shit.”

“I actually started an illegal gambling ring, once.”

“You called me a raging bitch yesterday, so...”

“I’m so lazy, I don’t want to do anything -- ooh! fidget spinner!”

“What the fuck do I look like, Cracker Barrel?”

“Fix my flatbread motherfucking pizzas!”

“Did I tell you the bread story?”

“These fancy rats don’t like crust on their bread.”

“I said that’s not gonna happen again, and it happened two more times.”

“He’s seducing this nice lady.”

“My sheets are still pink. Will anyone know why? The answer is no.”

“Why would you lick a Bible?”

“If it makes you feel better, I won’t kill you and bring you back to life.”

“I don’t cuddle my box of tampons on the beach with my white dress and my white bikini.”

“Now I know where to hide my dead body.”

“I was a bigger fan than you, sorry to break it to you, suck my ass.”

“His hair looks like french fries.”

“Not my salad bar.”

“Wow, that’s not very delicious, it tastes like sand.”

“I have simultaneously the best and worst idea ever.”

“This man’s dick just won the Super Bowl.”

“Wait, don’t laugh yet.”

“Groutfits are the future of this generation, don’t at me.”

“It smells like poots in here.”

“I just had this horrifying vision of dropping my Chipotle.”

“I didn’t want lettuce, I wanted guacamole...! I mixed them up in my head... now I’m pissed.”

“I’ve just been here for a really long time.”

“You think I want his hand up my butt right now?”

“Queso doesn’t belong, even though queso always belongs.”

“I thought I got a 100 but I got a 33.”

“I wonder if the ice is slippery.”

“The only ticket I’ve ever gotten was from a bicycle cop.”

“Muffin men stay there for muffin conventions.”

“I just paid a stranger $10 to paint my tits, happy Mardi Gras.”

“I cut my finger on a chainsaw, but it’s fine.”

“You’re so optimistic, and I’m, like, dying.”

“Get off of that zebra, young woman.”

“My parents didn’t let me watch the Teletubbies because they thought I’d be brainwashed.”

“Did you just say swag? You just imploded your whole argument.”

“He’s perfect in every way, he loves the Lord, except the Lord is Satan.”

“I have a problem with authority.”

“I don’t make these rules. Nuns make these rules.”

“The only things in that town were a movie theater and a pecan store, and we’d already been to the pecan store.”

“Be right back, I have to go fight a war. Should only take a few hours, though.”

“If you put purple on anything smelly, it’s lavender.”

“I can’t see, you can’t hear, and what can’t Jess do...? Math.”

“Are you shitting me? They called at 10 o’clock to say the dog has diarrhea?”

“I’m gonna punch a child.”

“I’m stressed, I’m stressed, I’m so fucking stressed (hell yeah).”

“Who the fuck is in Mountain Time? Utah? Dakota, North and South?”

“She’s a certified side hoe.”

“There’s no crying in the club. Fortunately for me, this is not the club.”

“I asked the void to rate me on a scale of one to ten.”

“Oh, no... don’t defile the fruit...”

“Did you just call a hospital a medical salon?”

“That sad moment when you’re bleeding to death and you can’t eat peanut butter crackers.”

“They called me the flea, I ran so fast.”

“Today, instead of carrying a plastic fork with my Lysol, it’s a napkin. We’ve changed secondary weapons.”

“I injured myself snapping too violently.”

“Son of a fuck cracker.”

“Don’t be alarmed, but has anyone seen my gun?”

“My whole life, I’ve always thought that those orange strips in salad was cheese. Turns out, it’s been carrots this whole time.”

“Jesus is one, he’s two.”

“Science is dead now. No more science.”

“I mean, you could also, theoretically, have sex in the woods.”

“I just wanna make movies and cry.”

“Hi, I’m depressed, but my name is David.”

“I thought there was one... turns out that there’s five.”

“My name is Kathy, I’m a pissed off soccer mom, why is my child not starting? I paid all this money.”

“We could all bring cardboard cutouts of ourselves, and it wouldn’t be the same.”

“I’m five. Six on a good day.”

“I can’t catch a break -- everything just breaks.”

“I strive to be the best-smelling person people know.”

“I did a push-up yesterday.”

“Not to be dramatic, but I’d rather die than walk across campus.”

“Y’all look like scary-ass nuns.”

“Wait, that’s not in Hamlet.”

“Our lord and savior is Nicolas Cage, fuckers. Get it right.”

“It’s always tracksuit weather.”

“I owe you either an Icee or my firstborn, whichever you’d prefer.”

“Okay, Black Panther characters, let’s see. We’ve got T’Challa. We’ve got... bad T’Challa.”

“Without sororities, the glitter industry would’ve been dead years ago.”

“Honeymoon is just a nicer way to say fuckfest.”

“Oh my god, someone wants my drugs.”

“I was driving here to take this exam, and a car accident happened right in front of me and almost hit me, and I almost wanted it to hit me so I didn’t have to take this exam.”

“He has the emotional range of a teaspoon.”

[lornahansonforbes]

The late summer sun was slowly going down as we approached the corner of Melrose and North Robertson. Granted it was almost 8:00pm, but the sun was still blazing away as were the paparazzi and people milling about and waiting to go inside to have dinner meanwhile expecting a certain someone to make an appearance, but she slowed the car down for a millisecond and then kept going. I didn’t ask. She made a sharp left turn, an absolute fucking miracle, Sister Mary of The Perpetual Parking Spot must’ve been smiling down on us, she pulled up and backed in like a racer car driver. One, two, and the keys were being shoved into her vintage LV handbag.

“We’re here. Let’s go!,” she said cheerfully. Again I didn’t ask but the sign said, Ty’s Thai Tie Dye - An Indochina Conglomerate. I just looked at the sign again, “You’ll love it, trust me,” she said over the din of traffic.

We walked in and was greeted by a friendly hostess who appeared to be only like barely 5 feet tall.

“Two for dinner? You come now. Inside or outside table?” Our hostess grabbed two menus and shuttled us to an outside table without a confirmation. The slice of lemon meringue sky was wafting over us as we entered a small sort of possibly could have been an alleyway with beautiful plants everywhere and a trellis with Passion flowers just over head. My words can’t describe exactly how beautiful it was. The immense shades of green, the flowers and their beautiful aromas melded amazingly with the smells of garlic and cilantro emanating from a mysterious kitchen tucked away from the patrons.

Dressed in the classic little black dress and simple pumps, all Chanel, all understated and she was a vision. The extremely simple and understated gold jewelry brought it all together and yet oozed money from every pore with hair pulled loosely back in a black silk ribbon. She smirked gently as she began to seat herself and smoothed her dress down. I know I didn’t look out of place in “vintage” Black on Black Calvin Jeans. Yeah, I’ve had them for longer than I care to remember but dry cleaning is a good thing and my classic Brooks Brothers Oxford cream colored shirt. However my cordovan penny loafers had seen better days.

“You like something drink? Water? Flat? Fuzzy? Maybe soda? No? I bring you wine or something else?,” our hostess queried with a generous megawatt smile.

“Water, flat, slice of lemon and no ice for both of us. We’ll start with that,” she said looking at me with a twinkle in her sable eyes. Our hostess clicked her heels and walked away.

“The food here is incredible,” she said calmly.

I opened the menu and saw what made up of Indochina, plates by country. Mostly vegetarian but with plenty of dead animals for all the other food tourists and truly bougie wannabe We-Ho reject motherfuckers scratching their way to being not known for anything other than doing their worst James Dean high atop Griffith Observatory, but I did mention that they got chased out of the “nature’s reserve” by 5-0? Yes, those are grass stains on their jeans.

I pursued the menu as our hostess returned and glided the glasses of water and lemon on the table.

“You decided? What I bring you?”

I chose the vegetarian Pad Thai and some Vietnamese dish I couldn’t pronounce. We both also chose a lemongrass Larb with fried tofu salad. Our hostess disappeared into her Jasmine perfume and we lifted our glasses of water and clinked them together and quietly said, “Cheers, lovey.”

“I’m so delighted that we came here instead of trying to get in and see people fawn ever so patronizingly over her. It’s just the worst selfie moment you’ll ever see play out,” she said as she leaned back in her seat. I smirked at the image playing out like some silent movie with the Scott Joplin-esque ragtime jangling piano.

We had bits of conversation that really didn’t go anywhere other than “Well, did hear?” and “Some idiot who asserted that…” But nothing of substance and nothing really was said and the next thing I knew she pulled up in front of my flat.

“Darling, I’m sure we’ve had a wonderful evening but I feel bad that my husband is all over us these past few weeks. I’m just so sick and tired of seeing his gold Audi here and there every time we go out. Why can’t we agree to disagree with the fact that I’m who I am and you are you and we aren’t able to carry on like this anymore. I know I should break it to you gently but just rip the fucking Bandaid off, it’s over. Don’t speak. Let’s go our separate ways with our splendiferous memories and as the cliché states, when you do speak of me, be kind,” she blurted out without looking at me.

It took me a moment and then I crawled out the Jaguar Vandam Plas. I barely closed the passenger door and she glided away and I saw her turn right and disappear.

The full moon was reminiscent of Klieg lights at some old school Hollywood premiere and I saw the curtains move ever so slightly out of the corner of my eye. It was the Grand Dame, Marieke, my tuxedo cat meowing silently behind the window.

We locked eyes and she stood up, stretching her full length and her white underbelly up against the window pane. I fumbled for my house keys, still near comatose, I took those first tentative steps towards my house and then I got in my car. I pounded the steering wheel with tears in my eyes. “You ungrateful little bitch,” I screamed so loudly I felt my ears ringing worse than tinnitus at Rush concert.

The night was gorgeous as I drove cursing her very name. I couldn’t believe that not that long ago our tongues were lashing about like in a porn as we tore our clothes off, she’s moist, my turgidity…and fade to black.

Here I was on Pfeiffer Beach, Big Sur, hours away from the cesspool that is Los Angeles. I heard voices in the distance. I turned to see anything about but it wasn’t the ghosts of Burton and Taylor.

I don’t remember much after that but now the sun was rising over this beach was a backdrop for “The Sandpiper.”

The sounds of the waves were crashing just over there, the wind was gently nudging me as it was cold it was reassuring to me. Nothing left. My clothes were rumpled beyond and the sand in my toes. My ass was damp. No sugar free Chai latte beckoning me into a new day. Stumbling around I made it back to car only to see CHP stopped by and that bright orange ticket was neatly tucked under the windshield wipers. Fuck.

The radio blared as I turned the key, a voice said, “Now, I’m strong enough. Now, I’m strong enough to accept change. Yes my darling, if you want to live in another place, I can understand it. It’s gonna hurt for a little while, but I can understand it, but before you walk out that door, touch me in the morning.”

It was that classic 120 beats per minute but this voice and her rendition of the Diana Ross anthem, her anger and hurt were front and center. Just like me, we were both in a world of hurt at that time but she wasn’t feeling it and neither was I. She and I we’re pissed. Okay a little poetic license here and there but fuck you. I was transfixed on that song and she like I wanted to be Kathy Bates swinging that sledgehammer but we were going to leave that thing, that thing, right there to suffer and none of that dirty little bird bullshit either. I was going to be Mike Tyson if Bette Davis pops up screaming something about having a dirty little affair with a married woman. Hold up for one second, bitch! I’ll piss on your grave long before I say Kaddish.

I picked up phone, tapped Shazam, Marlena Shaw. Thanks, Miss Shaw. Touch me in the morning and you’ll lose that entire arm. Trust. I then tapped my phone one more time and my playlist abruptly cut in.

I merged into traffic on Route 1 South heading back home leaving Pfeiffer Beach in the rear view mirror. I’m a man on mission. Happy endings? Not on my dime. Better beginnings is more like it and I’ll take back me. I will not yield. The Grand Dame awaits and she will always love me for all my mistakes, my foibles, my insecurities and I have everything I need for the time being, my 15 year old cat, Marieke, and I couldn’t be happier even after the hurt.

[avanneman]

Kevin Costner’s “Highwaymen”: A plateful of fascism, racism on the side

Kevin Costner? Kevin “Dances With Wolves” Costner, who defended the Lakota against the genocidal white patriarchy? Kevin “Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves” Costner, who was, you know, the prince of thieves, and defied the, you know, genocidal white patriarchy? That Kevin Costner is a fascist?

Damn straight, dude. Big Daddy Kev has had with these kids, who are, it seems, nothing but a bunch of damn murderer-worshippin’ hippies, brainwashed by the damn media into turning their backs on everything that’s decent, wholesome, and capitalist in American life. It’s time to whup some sense into their damn heads, or maybe just damn kill ‘em, because, come to think of it, that would solve the problem pretty damn quick.

That seems to be the message of Kevin’s latest, Highwaymen, done for the small screen and available on Netflix. Highwaymen didn’t seem to get much press when it premiered a couple of weeks ago, either pro or con, but, as a retelling—and, basically, a point-by-point rebuttal—of Warren Beatty’s neo nouvelle vague masterpiece, Bonnie & Clyde, which hit the American movie-going public like a bomb back in 1967, made Pauline Kael famous, and (so I said in my review) allowed American movies to go up once and for all, it certainly makes a statement, which I am going to disagree with, at length.

Maybe Kevin Costner, who was all of twelve when B&C came out, couldn’t understand why Warren “Pretty Boy” Beatty was getting all his press, or maybe Kevin is just souring with age, or maybe Trumpism is catching—which God forbid—but, whatever the reason, it’s clear that Kevin decided that, 50 years after the fact, it was time to take 82-year-old Pretty Boy down a peg. Surely few films—particularly one of such expense and quality—have been so closely crafted to “refute” an earlier film. Highwaymen scarcely makes “sense” if not viewed with constant awareness of Bonnie & Clyde.1

The film is visually very well made, like Bonnie & Clyde working very hard to convey the harshness of Depression-Era Texas. The film opens by showing us an old timey car pulling up in a field and a dainty gal, obviously Bonnie because she’s packing a tommy gun,2 firing it into the air as a signal for jail break (actually a “prison fam break”) that she and Clyde are apparently coordinating. She’s deliberately shown to us in a long shot, letting us know that (probably) we won’t be getting a real look at either Bonnie or Clyde until the end, rather like Mrs. Bates in Psycho.

Afterwards, we cut to the offices of the Texas governor—canny, soulless “Ma” Ferguson (Kathy Bates). Ma’s a fraud, like all politicians, all image and no substance. She’s taking heat from the press for all this Bonnie & Clyde stuff, and it’s time to find someone to blame for her own incompetence, time to pull “legendary” Texas Ranger Frank Hamer out of retirement. Ma shut down the Rangers for some unspecified reason, but, since she’s a chick, you can bet it was some kind of chickenshit chick shit, like some little Missy got her little nose all out of joint because some dude might have given her ass a little pat. If it’s not for sale don’t advertise, sweetheart! Yeah, the gals always be whinin’, but when there’s a real job to be done, all of a sudden they’ve got to find a real man to do it.

And Frank, well, he’s a real man, living large and in charge, got a big house and fancy young society wife to run it for him. He sure don’t need no job, and no need to do Ma no favors, but Bonnie and Clyde, they’ve been killing peace officers. It’s a job that’s got to be done, and a real man don’t quit till the job’s done.

Frank sets off in the fancy new Lincoln he just gave his wife, a car whose elegant lines will be featured over and over again in the film, with near fetish-like devotion, seemingly a compulsive echo of all the gleaming thirties roadsters that Bonnie and Clyde pilfer in Beatty’s film, though none of them, I think, were luxury models like Frank’s Lincoln.3

Once Frank’s got the car, he needs a companion, and he finds one in fellow dinosaur Maney Gault (Woody Harrelson). Maney don’t look like much, and he has to pee a lot (which, when you come to think about it, is pretty damn funny), but Frank, he’s looking for guts, not glamor, and Maney’s got the real stuff in his belly.

And so off they go, taking shit from all kinds of snot-nosed fancy-pants kids in the state police and even the FBI. They got airplanes and shit, they can even listen to your telephone conversations and you can’t do anything about it! How scary is that!4

Frank and Maney, they don’t have nothin’, nothin’ but smarts, smarts and a whole shitload of automatic weapons that Frank buys, in a wet-dream gun lovers’ sequence—surely ten thousand dollars of cargo or more, practically none of which is actually used in the film.5 I would be very unsurprised to learn that Costner is a gun lover and has all of these items in his collection, weapons that he probably enjoys hefting and then throwing at his guests. What’s the matter, sissy boy? Can’t handle a piece?

For most of the rest of the film, Frank and Maney just drive around in their shiny new Lincoln, Frank raining contempt on all the punk kids in the FBI, the damn newspapers, and damn general public for making heroes out of a pair of murderous brats, while Maney has to take a leak every ten minutes. (Okay, that part’s funny.) At one point, Maney almost gets a shot at Clyde, but then he’s mobbed all these damn broads, like he’s a celebrity or something, before Maney can pull the trigger.

The film goes to absurd lengths to make Bonnie, who was not a very nice person, not merely a hardened criminal but, well, a sadistic, castrating bitch. At one point, Hamer “deduces”, from footprints at a crime scene, that Bonnie wounded a policeman, then rolled him over with her foot in order to force him to watch before she blew his brains out. But we are both told and shown that Bonnie is tiny (90 pounds) and walks with a limp.6 I’ll bet Kevin Costner couldn’t roll a 90-pound woman over with his foot, much less a 200-pound man. Women issues much, Kevin?

Finally, Frank gets a solid lead, beating the crap out of some punk to find out what Bonnie and Clyde are up to, because beating the crap out of people is pretty much the best solution to any law enforcement problem. He learns that the Barrow gang is headed to Louisiana to hole up with the father of one of the gang. Frank makes a deal with the father, as happened in real life and the Beatty film, arranging for an ambush. None of this fair play bullshit for him! He also insists that a young deputy come along with them to identify Clyde, setting up a ludicrous (and fraudulent) finale to teach the kid and the audience about “real life”—from real life actor Kevin Costner.

Naturally, the kid, being a kid, is a little squeamish about the prospect of seeing two people shot to pieces from ambush, so Maney has to explain the facts of life to the kid. (Many rather than Frank, because Frank is more or less a god, and gods don’t explain themselves. If they did, they’d lose caste.)

Maney tells the kid a story about when he was a young Texas Ranger. The Rangers have located a huge gang of Mexican desperados, but when they try to arrest them, announcing “Manos arribos” (or something like that, meaning “Hands up!”), well, instead of putting up their hands, the Mexicans start shooting. Day after day, it goes on like this, the Rangers losing a man or two every day until Frank shows up. No more “manos arribos”, motherfucker! We shoot first, and we shoot to kill! And that’s how it goes down, and Maney even blows away this innocent, unarmed, fifteen-year-old kid, who just wanted to escape, putting six slugs in the little fucker. Cause that’s what a man does! Adios, muchacho!

Uh, really? If a gang shoots a cop, the cops will come back time and time again, trying to arrest the gang peacefully? Really? They needed Frank Hamer to tell them they were doing it wrong? And, why, exactly, did Maney have to put six slugs in a non-combatant? Is this like one of those “Kill ‘em all, Let God sort ‘em out” tee-shirts you get at a gun show? In fact, of course, they didn’t need to have the kid come along in the first place. Maney knows what Clyde looks like, and was going to drop him earlier, if only he could have gotten a clean shot. The kid’s just a lazy plot device.

But the kicker comes when Frank, Maney, the kid, a couple of local police finally ambush Bonnie and Clyde, because it isn’t an ambush. Frank steps out in front of the car and gives the two a chance to surrender, just what Maney just told us ls what pussies do, and is why pussies never get the job done. Yeah, Kevin Costner wants to give us this hard-ass “moral”, that civilization depends on the occasional cold-blooded murder. But, at the same time, he wants the audience to like him. What a coward.

When I saw the 1998 Gus Van Sant shot for shot remake of Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960), I walked out of theater thinking “Now he should remake it again, except this time showing us everything that Hitchcock didn’t show us!” Dunno if it would work, but maybe. ↩︎

Tommy guns, with their drum magazines, though (I’ve read, though Wikipedia says different) they often did not work very well and were not often used, were a legendary symbol of gang violence. When I was a small boy, the conclusion of the visitor’s tour of the FBI was a demonstration of a tommy gun in a special shooting range in the basement, though I don’t know if FBI agents ever used one in a fire fight. In those days the FBI had a fairly low-key building across the street from the Department of the Interior, which a had very low-budget aquarium open to the public. You could see a guy shoot up a target with a tommy gun and then walk across the street and look at the two-headed turtle (for real). ↩︎

In my original review of B&C, I remarked that all of the cars Bonnie and Clyde steal are in sparkling condition, with gleaming chrome and, often, two-tone paint jobs—just what you wouldn’t find in East Texas during the Great Depression. Beatty starred in Splendor in the Grass (1961), featuring all the polished roadsters that director Elia Kazan didn’t get to drive while working his way through Williams College back in the day. Many film directors, ranging from Jean-Luc Godard to Steven Spielberg, compulsively feature in their films the cars they didn’t get to drive when they were young. ↩︎

In the thirties, every phone call was individually placed by an operator, who could listen in if she wanted to (all telephone operators were women), though of course they weren’t supposed to. Furthermore, in rural areas, if there were phones at all, houses were connected on “party lines”. Anyone on your line could listen to your call. ↩︎

If you’re wondering, Bonnie and Clyde were killed before the National Firearms Act of 1934 was signed into law, a law that, in any event, simply put a tax on automatic weapons, so that only respectable people could buy them. ↩︎

The real Bonnie Parker, by the time of the events in the film, could not walk unassisted, after suffering third-degree burns on her leg during an automobile accident. ↩︎

[southernconundrum-blog]

Making a Case for 13 Going on 30.

I can still remember my Wednesday evening History of Film class in Film school. (Yes I went to film school, we can still like cheesy rom-coms) And the night my professor, a former DP for Columbia during the “golden age of film” stood in front of the entire class and proclaimed we were about to view, what most experts call the greatest film of all time. You guessed it, Citizen Kane. 

He went on to explain that what made it so great was the technicality and the innovation of it. The first film to use flashback and continuous wide shots, blah blah. I thought it was a snooze fest of straight white male nonsense. Yeah technically it’s cool they did all that with cut and paste film. I respect that shit, I do. But Citizen Kane is one of the most un-relatable stories ever. At least to me as a gay woman. It’s like the Catcher in the Rye of film. I have a hard time identifying with rich white dudes who feel like they don’t belong in a world created for and by them. If anyone actually read this blog I bet I’d get ALL the haters up in here leaving me comments about how oppressed men are now. Do it. I masturbate with male tears.

ANYWAYS. Fuck Citizen Kane in it’s boring ass face. I’m here to talk about the greatest movie of all time. The movie that is best picture every year in my heart and soul always and the one movie by which every other movie is measured. 13 Going on Motherfucking 30.

Yes it’s entertaining. Yes it’s a feel good romish-com with a cute cast. Yes it has Judy Greer. But what makes it the best? I’ll break it down for you.

CAST:

We all know about JGar and MRuff, and before we get to Judy Greer, let’s talk about the supporting cast: 

Christa B Allen 

For you true Jgar fans you’ll note that this was not Christa’s only time playing a young Jen. She also does in Ghosts of Girlfriends Past (another one of my faves but more problematic). Christa’s got the looks and the chops. She’s not only a dead ringer for the younger Rink, she’s also actually a great actress. Here’s what she looks like now BTW.

Pretty fucking spot on from the casting director I’d say. So if Christa B. Allen was the homerun, Sean Marquette (young MRUFF) is the grand slam. 

Then and now:

Yeah that could be Mark Ruffalo in the early 2000′s. And Sean does a great job himself in the younger role. Moving on.

BRIE OSCAR WINNER CAPTAIN MARVEL LARSON

In a bit part with ONE freaking line. She nailed it by the way. That’s how extra this movie is. Oscar winners as basically extras.

FUN FACT THAT ONLY A PSYCHO WOULD KNOW:

When Jenna is looking at her yearbook with Matty years later, it flashes this picture of the Six Chicks:

Notice Jenna is now “practically their leader” and Brie Larson is nowhere to be found. Presumably she has already been kidnapped and is in ROOM. Too dark? Or too REAL.

ANDY FUCKING SERKIS

You can use IMDB to go through this guy’s laundry list of amazing credits. And don’t stop at Gollum in LOTR because he was basically just getting started in this bitch. He’s also an accomplished director. He plays Jenna and Lucy’s (tom-tom) boss and the editor of Poise magazine. He’s also gay bc representation in 2004 hella mattered.

KATHY BAKER (Jenna’s mom)

Where have you seen her? Bitch, everywhere. She has a staggering list of nominations and awards from film, tv and stage where she’s had a phenomenal career. My favorite roles are between that gem up there in Edward Scissorhands and the woman of many marriages in the Jane Austen Book Club. She’s a legend and she’s NOT EVEN THE STAR OF THIS FILM.

Marcia DeBonis (Jenna’s admin asst)

It’s easier to tell you what she HASN’T been in. Like Kathy Baker, she’s made a career out of small, scene stealing roles. She also has a pretty impressive career in casting. 

I’m not going do Jen and Mark because we all know all of their shit. I’m the biggest JGar fan on earth so don’t get me started, but they are obviously mega stars and I need to save some room for.......here it comes...it’s finally here...you know it was coming..and here WE. FUCKING. GO.

JUDITH THERESE EVANS GREER

If Judy BAD BITCH OF LIFE Greer is in a movie? I’m seeing it. Why? BC SHE’s in EVERY MOVIE. Judy Greer is a brilliant silky chameleon with ferrari engine precision comedic timing. I would say she ties with Melanie Lynksey for all time underrated actress in history, but I think she pushes just past her since her body of work is unbelievably large. She has done indie, rom-com, sci-fi blockbuster, you name it. She can and has done anything and everything and I love her with every sad and broken cell in my fangirl body. She doesn’t support scenes, she carries them. And the only reason you think someone else is the star is because Judy wants you to think that. There are like 2 people on this Earth I love as much as I love Judy Greer and they are basically my mom and Claire Danes. She is an angel we do not deserve sent to us straight from a place we can never know. I legitimately worry that not enough people know what a treeey zzzurrre we have in Judy. I will do whatever I can to always spread the Gospel of Greer in this flaming shit bag of a world. If you haven’t seen Addicted to Fresno, please excuse yourself from whatever meaningless nonsense you’re doing right now to go watch it. Thanks.

STORY

A perfect cast, and yes this is one, does not a good film make on it’s own (see all those shitty Gary Marshall vignette films). 

Lucky for us we also have a perfect story.  This film has everything: redemption, friendship, love, betrayal, materialism, capitalism, competition, fucking TIME TRAVEL. And a dance number to goddamn Thriller. 

This movie created the catch-phrase, “Fabuloso”, which would eventually become the best smelling cleaning product of all time. It brought back Razzles, no doubt saving that entire brand from bankruptcy. It has complicated parental relationships, complex female friendships, a pre-wedding love confession scene, an NYC fall photoshoot montage, an accidentally fall-down kiss scene, a popular high school guy now a balding loser scene, a heroine saves the magazine scene, and a Pat Benetar slumber party pillow fight. 

SETTING

NEW. MOTHERFUCKING. YORK. CITY. Is there any other place where a 30 year old can be the editor of a fashion magazine and live in an $8 million apartment???

SOUNDTRACK

I mean, you’ve got The Go-Go’s, Whitney Houston, Madonna, Billy Joel, Liz Phair, Rick Springfield, Talking Heads, Soft Cell, I COULD ON AND ON. 

CONCLUSION

I am a rom-com SLUT. I have seen all of them, but this one is the stand out. Instead of limiting Jenna to the “she falls in love and finally changes her life” trope, it explores ALL the reasons Jenna’s life went off track. Not just because she lost her best friend along the way, but because now she’s dishonest, disloyal, and though she has the trappings of the life she dreamed of, she isn’t the person she thought she would be. In fact, Matty is not even the main thread of all of it. 

The takeaway here is that being present is more important than worrying and wishing about the future.Which is actually some intense deep Buddhist shit. 

By living in the moment we’re in, we can shape our lives however we want. Jenna was so intent on creating her idea of a perfect life, that she missed what was right in front of her. When she got a glimpse of what she thought she wanted, she realized how empty it was. The money, the cool job, the $8 million apartment doesn’t mean shit when you don’t have any real connections to anyone. And is there any better moment then when she goes back to her closet birthday party, kisses Matty and slams Tom-Tom’s drink in her face and calls her a “Biatch”? NO. It’s the most satisfying moment in American cinema. 

TWO THINGS

1.This movie has 0 diversity and is 100% straight white people problems. I acknowledge it. It is problematic. I don’t know what to say. It was the time, I didn’t make the movie, and thank the lorde things are changing.

2.Lucy’s take on Poise re-branding was 100,000% better than that Abercrombie bullshit Jenna came up. Don’t @ me.

JUDY GREER 2020

[in-the-midst-of-everything]

Hey today was one fuck of a day!!!

Idk if I should bitch about it first or talk about yesterday, cuz yesterday was pretty good. But damn. Today just fucking sucks. I think I will do that first cuz ending with happy thoughts sounds like a better idea. And I gotta get this off my chest.

So we went to biolife yesterday and couldn't donate, so we both loaded up on iron and tried again today. Nothing. Both of us got turned away for one point below safe iron levels. Idk how?? I usually have good luck with donating, only if I haven't eaten enough I get turned away, but I had plenty of food in the prior 24 hours, ate a bowl of toasty-o's (80% daily iron value???) Which usually does the trick but nah. A wasted trip up to point, planned on coming home with $50 in gas money but NOPE. Now I'm down to 13 (?) on my biolife card and $75 to my name otherwise. That's it. That's all I got. So much for getting my shit sorted out in 2k18 cuz I am waaaaaaaaaaay behind on that plan. I have money coming from uncle Tim and Kathy, plus 2 art commissions I need to kick my ass into gear for, so I'll be ok but FUCK man. It's fucking July in a week and I'm STILL fucking scraping by

And I am PISSED at Sharon but I don't know how to tell her cuz I've been trained out of being confrontational my entire life and I don't wanna lose my damn job cuz she's been an absolute bitch lately. But I'm STILL getting half fucking paychecks cuz I guess I'm still paying off the forwarded money from this winter, I wasn't aware this would be going halfway the fuck into summer, I've drained my savings paying bills and fixing my fucking car I have next to nothing left. I can't buy food. I can't buy alcohol to cope, I can't do literally anything cuz I'm motherfucking broke. I was supposed to have money saved up to take the cats to the vet, get my motorcycle liscence and start looking for a bike, save money for a road trip this fall, but fuck ALL of that cuz I'm cruzing through the year by skin of my teeth.

And the big kicker, the motherfucking cherry on top, I haven't been getting my full 40 each week. Sharon has some kind of crisis going on that she's watching her money, so I missed 5 hours last week cuz she didn't have anything for me to do??? Bull fucking SHIT there is SO MUCH that needs to be done around that fucking place but she sent me home. ON TOP OF cutting my summer hours from 10/day to 9.5 to 9.75. Which isn't a huge change but really???? Just. WHY.

And I also mentioned she's been damn near unbearable all year so far, everything I thought she wanted from me is flipped now. I started clocking in right from the start 5 mins early. Cuz she specifically sat me down and told me last year she hated me being there on the dot, that I could punch in 5 mins early. Well now I guess I clock out early too, "just in case you go over time". Which is easy enough to fucking fix, just clock out sooner next day BUT WHATEVER. IDFK SHARON.

And I didn't say anything when she first told me this shit cuz I can't process information that fast and what it means on my end so I just agree on the spot and fuck myself over.

SO. I went into work today an hour later by her request, after a whole morning of low key panicking about money and doing the nasty ass dishes. She left almost immediately after showing me what to clean up by the big garage, and after I washed the rtv I fucked off and sat in the office with Holly for an hour. Cuz I needed someone to talk to, just bs with and not anything important. And it was pretty good. I had developed a migraine on the way home from point and chilling out in the office helped it. I spent the next 7 hours weed whacking the shit outta the mess around the big garage, pulling water line tubing from the matted grass, and organizing the trash into a burn pile and pick up pile. It sped time along really fast actually, and I was actually pretty ok for most of the day, aside from itchy, sweaty and frustrated. I cleaned the bathrooms at 10 and sat around wasting time for a bit to push my time to midnight to make the most out of my night, and on the walk back to put my shit away 2 things happened.

1st Sharon texted me at 11:40 asking if I was still cleaning bathrooms. Fucking yes, I have til midnight and I came in late, I'm not going over time in anyway ffs.

2nd one of Rome's buddies caught me on my way past and asked me over for a shot of his long island iced tea, which ofc I accepted. It was good, I haven't had hard liquor in so long it was actually really good. He asked what I was up to and told me about how Sharon busted them last night at 1am having fun in the camper. Cuz it was past "quiet time". On a Friday night, really Sharon? God, no fun allowed. He offered me a ride back to put my cleaning shit away, and I mentioned that I had to clock out and head home. Immediately after getting in my car I thought wtf, I should've made better conversation?? Like, at least act like I would hang around if they invited me, cuz I totally would, I've been so socially deprived lately it's not even funny. But I didnt??? I just was like....ya...I'm headed home. And he didn't push, but like. Idk. It all boils down to I have a paranoia about my image at the campground. As stupid as that sounds. But I'm literally always doing manual labor, usually focused on a job or have headphones as earplugs in so I can't talk (not that Sharon would let me anyway) and I leave right after I clock out cuz no one invites me over cuz I don't talk to anyone. Like I feel like my presence there isn't impacting literally anyone, I'm just the Employee That Does Work and that's it. And this paranoia was cemented recently when I finally followed the Facebook page, saw how often she updates and all the pics and videos she uses have like, Bill and Holly and other campers in them, she was showing off the jump pad and stuff and like...that wouldn't be there without me. I spent days digging the fucking trench for the electric line by hand, AFTER clearing the field and leveling the plot. AND I helped roll it out and set it up. Like idk I feel like I do all the hard work but don't get to join in any of the fun? And it just feels really shitty when none of your work is acknowledged. And going back to my intial(?) point, I'm so socially deprived and downright //lonely//. And I feel bad saying it cuz Hope and I live together, we're literally always sharing space together but I feel like I have no one else. Kenzie's barely existing being dragged down by work and money stress, I try to stay in close touch but it's hard. And out of this circle? Nothing. Kenzie has Dan and her coworkers to talk to, Hope is constantly on discord talking to the chat there, she tells me all about that. And I have...no one else. I message my sisters frequently but they're both insanely busy. I'm seeing Nikki and Cassy on Wednesday to help them move, but despite Nikki and I really hitting it off we don't actually talk regularly and that kinda makes me sad. But I'm conflicted there too, I'll rant in another post about that.

And idk. I'm just so. Genuinely. Lonely. I have no one to go see (not that I'd have the fucking time lmao) no one to talk to, starting new aquaintenceships is exhausting as all hell, and when I'm not around Hope I'm alone with my own thoughts. I've always been a loner, I'm comfortable in my own company and I can have fun by myself...but it's really taking a toll on me. Especially since Hope and kenzie seem like they can't keep up with me. I'm ready to do almost anything, anytime, but Hope needs several days' warning to do anything big and kenzies always tired. We managed a friend day out a couple weeks ago, we went out to Rabbit rock and I could've explored and climbed for another 2 hours, but their legs hurt and it was hot out, and they headed back to the car while I was still on the rock. There was plenty of daylight left and I would've loved to visit the woods or go hang at the lake, but we ended up heading back home and chilling at the apartment. Which was fine. I wasn't mad or anything, I just wanted more outside time. I miss the excitement, the sense of adventure. Kenzie and I made it out to the woods once this spring, and we didn't even wander. We just drove out to scope out the trails and left. And it's getting so hard to hang out in general, our work schedules never align and we're all broke af. I'm so exausted. I'm sick and tired of working our asses off but not getting ahead. We're all fucking behind yet despite all our efforts, it's just not good enough.

I came home tonight with all these thoughts knocking around in my head and doing all I could to hold back tears. Immediately grabbed my 2 beers from the fridge and got in the shower, tried to relax myself and drown out some of the panic, but it's not feeling like it's working. I'm just mildly dizzy Andy headaches coming back from crying. Idk what to do anymore. I have plans for once in my life but even the simplest goals are continuously just out of reach. I tell myself to just keep rolling with it, try to build momentum and you'll get there eventually. But I'm so far from making any headway. I'm keeping my head up but it's getting so, so hard....