I'm Too Sexy for Beige

You know what? If it's subversively funny, I love it like Tom DeLay loves sweet freedom.

Evidence:

I owned a subscription to Spy magazine and worshipped every page of every issue ever printed. That is, until my ex-husband absent-mindedly pitched them out with the US Weekly and Elle magazines into the recycling bin. While it certainly constitutes good cause, this is not why I divorced him.

Evidence:

I once reached the finals of a Simpsons Trivia contest. I lost to a Trekkie who knew Krusty's inmate number.

Evidence:

-Growing up, I idolized Rosalind Russell, Madeline Kahn, Vladimir Nabokov, and Hunter S. Thompson.

-When I turned in a book report on Rabelais in the 9th grade, I got sent to the principal's office. He'd never heard of him either.

-All these boys were publishing gritty snark grunge 'zines that largely congratulated themselves for being cool; I published an all-glossy burlesque-for-girls 'zine called Hootchie Mama that really blew their baggy shorts up.

-I speak my mind, even if it's about sex, religion, or politics. There is no level of bullshit I'm willing to accept.

-I've survived heartache, loss, death, divorce, poverty, abuse, humiliation, illness, disability, and being de-pantsed on my first day of jr. high with grace and no small amount of righteous rage. For a tiny girl I can sure go ape-shit when needed.

-Ain't nobody or nothing gonna keep me down, bitches.

Listen, you say your self-affirmations, and I'll blog mine.