Would the real Reticula please stand up?

I've been watching the third season of The Big C. In the show, Laura Linney plays a high school teacher, Cathy Jamison, who deals with a cancer diagnosis and subsequent treatment by going a little crazy pretty much insane. Oliver Platt, who is the sexiest ugly, fat man on the planet, plays her husband, Paul. These are some heavy hitters.

Laura Linney and Oliver Platt

It's a good show, but like a lot of third seasons, this one has some weaknesses, some shit where they try too hard, make the problems these people face too ridiculously big. It's Showtime though, the station that made a serial killer sexy.

I still watch it anyway because this season Cathy does one crazy thing that makes me want to do the exact same crazy thing. OK, two things.

The first has to do with my biggest girl-crush ever, Susan Sarandon, who plays one of those self-help gurus who make people joyful. She kisses Cathy right on the mouth. Right on the mouth! I want to do that -- kiss Susan (because that's what I'd call her after I kissed her, Susan, instead of Susan Sarandon), and there's nothing crazy about wanting to kiss Susan Sarandon on the mouth can I get an amen!

My crush.

The crazy thing Cathy does is sneak to a bar where nobody knows her, and where she creates a different Cathy. She pretends to be someone other than herself, someone who doesn't have cancer. She smokes cigarettes, drinks martinis, tells the patrons and the bartender she's an airline pilot to explain her absences. She makes up stories about her family, and even creates a child after she finds out she can't adopt a baby because of the cancer.

She makes friends there. People care about her. The bartender knows her name .... ish. It doesn't matter that it's not her real name. She becomes part of the bar family.

Cathy at her bar

I want to do that. At least I think I do.

What would it be like to visit a micro-culture and re-make yourself into the person you want to be? To try on a new person just like you'd try on a pair of jeans at the mall? To be brand new and traveling light with no baggage? What the hell would that be like?

I want to do it. I daydream about doing it. I imagine different stories I might tell about myself.

Let me be clear that I don't want to do it so I can do hurtful things I wouldn't do normally. I don't want to be a sociopath or a bully or a slut. I'd want to make up a normal story, a normal persona, but one I could control. I might wear clothes I'd never wear in real life. I'd make up the people I want in my life -- even though I'm blessed by practically perfect friends and kids already. Maybe I'd wear a wig.

I want to do it.

But then I run into the ethical dilemma because, as my mother has told me thousands of times, I think too much. Would it be fair to create relationships with people based on a total lie? Yes, I'd still be myself, but the details of who I am would all be false. Doesn't that potentially go beyond crazy to cruel?

I've known people who do that -- pretend to be someone or something they're not. It hurts like hell to find out who they really are. I've written before how I feel about liars. I don't want to be that person. I've been hurt by people who pretended to be someone they're not.

On the other hand, I could maybe justify doing it because I'm a writer and I could call it research. I could write a novel or even a memoir about it. I could open a blog under that persona. I could call it professional .... something.

But if I grew relationships with the patrons of this place and they ever found out I'd lied about everything, I think it would potentially hurt those people deeply. Buying a round for the house wouldn't fix that shit.

I have no doubt I would develop relationships. I've sometimes gotten too friendly with the natives and had to stop going to certain places as it is. I have no problem meeting strangers.

It seems odd to me that I'm so intrigued by this idea. I'm always striving to be authentic. I try never to lie about myself (except my name) here on this blog. (And I know bloggers who pretend they're writing about themselves and lie big about themselves. I have no respect and I stop reading as soon as I smell the foul lies.) Doing this would be the opposite of authenticity. It's in the realm of sociopaths.

And yet -- I'm rationalizing here -- in some ways it could be even more authentic to be the person I want to be. To try out being the person I might be if I hadn't been potty trained and spanked and subjected to peer pressure. I could be so free!

I want to do it. I'm still working out the logistics in my head. And now I've opened the subject here.

Help me out. Would you do something like this? Surely many of you have wondered what it would be like to be someone else for a few hours. Is it crazy? Is it cruel?

That kind of night

Haters gonna hate, but they shouldn't legislate

Just before I started writing here I read the news that North Carolina has passed a constitutional amendment that defines marriage as a union between one man and one woman. They already had a law that bans gay marriage. I guess that wasn't enough though. They needed for some reason to encode their religious beliefs in their constitution too.

Shame on you, North Carolina. Shame on you. I never say that to anybody except myself, but I say it again. Shame on you, North Carolina.

Maybe I shouldn't be surprised. Marriages between black and white citizens were illegal there until 1971. Marriage between first cousins is legal though--as long as the cousins aren't gay, of course. (Or is this a loophole?)

Maybe we shouldn't let people who live in states where first cousins can marry make decisions like this. Decisions that promote hatred and bullying and worse .... because this isn't about love. Make no mistake: this is about hate.

I recently performed in a reading of The Laramie Project, followed by a discussion with the audience. Our local community college is gearing up for a production, and they asked community groups of actors to do readings to get the word out about the play. If you haven't seen it, you should. It's the heart-breaking true story of Matthew Sheppard, a young Wyoming man who was tortured, tied to a fence, and left to die because he was gay. We were crying during our practice read-through. It's a powerful piece of literature.

What happened in North Carolina today is the very reason young men are still being lynched in this country. Just like Matthew Sheppard was lynched. I don't understand how that many people voted to pass such a shameful piece of governance.

I had such naive hope when the high court in my home-state, Iowa, ruled that such laws were unconstitutional. Common sense in the heartland! I was never so proud to be from Iowa as I was the day that news broke -- except the day a few months later when I officiated at my cousin's marriage to her wife. (Note that I often joke that I married my cousin, but it doesn't seem very funny tonight. Besides it's not OK to marry your cousin in Iowa -- not like that.)

What the fuck do the people of North Carolina -- those who voted for this amendment --what the fuck do they think this will accomplish? Do they think all those scary gay people will suddenly wise up, find Jesus, and marry their first cousins instead of each other? Do they think men will stop falling in love with men and women will stop falling in love with women even if that's the way they're wired? I can't think that's the reason, because that isn't reasonable. Who would choose to be gay in North Carolina?

I truly do not understand it. I'm not being disingenuous. It blows my logic circuits. I just don't get it. What the fuck am I missing?

Anybody?

Hysteria Preview: Cured by cookies

I've been eagerly awaiting Maggie Gyllenhaal’s new movie Hysteria. One reason is because Gyllenhaal is an amazing actor. (OK, I didn't much like her in The Secretary, but she was fearless in Sherrybaby.) But there's a second reason somebody posted the trailer for this movie on my Facebook wall today and asked if I wanted to go see it. Take a look and you'll see why.

Yep, it's about the first vibrators. I'm not as much interested in the vibrator aspect of the movie as I am the premise that women get "hysterical" because they need cookies, and at some point a man decided he had just the cure.

I first heard about this movie months ago on Violet Blue's blog Tiny Nibbles. (NSFW. You've been warned.) I didn't hear more about it, so I thought it went the way of so many movies about women's rights -- into the straight-to-DVD crapper -- but I'm delighted to see that it's back again.

I've written here fairly often about the phenomenon of men trying to control women through their vaginas. Who hasn't noticed that struggle in the political arena in the past few months? As quaint as the idea of curing women of "hysteria" through womb massage is --womb massage! -- I don't think anybody can deny women are still fighting for our rights to control our own vaginas and vulvas and labias and, yes, our wombs too. Not enough has changed since the Victorians. 

I'll be back to review the movie as soon as I get a chance to see it. In the meantime, Gyllenhaal gives a decent interview in the New York Times. It's worth reading.

If it leaves you feeling hysterical at all ...... you know what to do. Hitachi to the rescue! Buuuuzzzzzzzzz. Ahhh. Ahhh. Mmmmm. 

There now. Doesn't the little lady feel calmer?

Bleach my what?

Am I the last one to hear about vagina bleaching? Tell me you haven't all heard of this. Vagina bleaching? Seriously? Vagina bleaching? Why would a woman bleach her vagina? To make it easier to see in the dark?

OK, I don't know about you, ladies, but before I go out I shave my armpits and legs and do some trimming -- you know, just in case I ..... ummmm -- run into Cookie Monster out there. But I have never even considered bleaching my vagina. I didn't even know it was an option.

And yet, vagina bleaching has a .org website. As I tell my students, the .org extension gives a website more credibility. So if you're interested in the most credible vagina bleaching site, go to vaginalbleaching.org*. What the fuckety fuck?

Don't believe me? I don't want to either. Watch this commercial though. Read the sales pitch under the video. Vagina bleaching will make your man want your lady parts. Because men don't want vaginas that aren't pale and ... pale.

Guess what, girls? Men aren't the ones who are doing this to us. If we're buying into this shit, we're doing it to ourselves. I've talked with a lot of men about sex -- it's my superpower -- and never once has a man said to me, "I like her, but I don't want to fuck her because she doesn't bleach her vagina." I have never been at karaoke and heard someone say, "Oh, man. Did you see her? I wonder if she bleaches her vagina." I've never heard a man say, "I broke up with her because her vagina was too dark."

Can you imagine a profile on Match.com? "I'm 6' 5" tall and weigh 210 pounds. I have all my hair and ride a Harley. My friends say I'm good looking and have a great sense of humor. Looking for a slender woman (don't hate me) who loves going to NASCAR and flea markets. Must be honest, romantic, and willing to bleach her vagina regularly."

It won't happen. Men don't care about pale vaginas. Ask one.

No, besides the marketing aspect of this ridiculous practice, this is something women are doing to themselves. It's not enough with the tanning and the eating disorders and the puffy lips. It's not enough that so many women shave so they look like little girls or Barbies down there (and I won't even get started on red bumps!). This is just one more on a long list of volunteer deformities to go along with 40-pound breast implants, labia amputation, and ... well, now vagina bleaching.

I'm disgusted. If you're a woman who bleaches her vagina, please tell me why the hell you would put a chemical like that on your sensitive, cookie-loving vagina just so it would look lighter. And then find a therapist. In fact, find two. One won't be enough.

My granddaughter is sleeping next to me as I write this. She is absolute perfection at nine months old. I want to run away with her to a desert island when I see women doing things like this to themselves. I don't want her to ever feel inadequate because of the color of her vagina. Can you imagine? Unfortunately, now I can.

When is this shit going to stop?

* Note: This website also looks like it was written by one of my students. That would be one of the ones who will be taking my class again next semester.