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the most epic christmas gift

Given to me, by my son.

He picked this out himself. That is a print of a cat with batwings with bonus spider and creepy dude in back.

The awesomeness of this defies any kind of words I can put to it.

 

To all of you and yours: have a fantastic holiday season.

Originally published at batty.us. You can comment here or there.

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strength of character

Boog’s really into minecraft. As in whoa-hold-up-lets-check-the-kitchen-for-boiled-bunnies into it. This obsession leads to many a lengthy discussion with him on the appropriate amount of said game. I am sympathetic, being an formerly obsessive gamer myself. I also understand that a healthy balance must be maintained.

Such a discussion surfaced this past evening, as Boog threw a royal shitfit when I told him it was beddytime. He wanted One More Video, and One More always leads itself to Five. Or 3 hours worth. Gotta cut em off somewhere.

During the conversation, he kept asking me what time I was going to bed. Over and over again. I found that to be odd as this wasn’t something he is typically obsessed with.  Well, now I know why.  At the apex of his shitfit, he told me that sometimes he waits for our bedroom light to go off, and he thinks he wants to sneak his laptop out and play some more minecraft. He *doesn’t* do it, but he thinks about it, and he wanted me to know.

 

My kid just totally ratted himself out.

There is not one malicious bone in this child’s body.

 

 

 

Originally published at batty.us. You can comment here or there.

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the world’s most expensive christmas tree bow.

We have an inordinate amount of boxes filled with Christmas tree ornaments, as I am sure many of you do. We have a handful of ones that have special meaning to us, of course – either ones that have been handed down to us through the generations, or ones commemorating special events. But the rest is just crap – meaningless filler purchased over the years to fill up space.

I don’t like crap too much.

 

So we decided to make our tree a bit more meaningful and uniquely us.  In case you missed the memo, we’re very much outdoorsy people. Most, if not all, of our vacations are spent in tents. This is us. D and I took a lovely hike through the pine forest a few weeks ago and collected pinecones and acorns to serve as the base of our decorations. We then spent an evening with Boog coating them in glitter and paint. Shut up, glitter totally occurs in nature.

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Originally published at batty.us. You can comment here or there.

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Guest Post: Eat Hard, Play Hard, Sleep Hard, Be Hard

This is the first in a series of guest posts from people who inspire me. Matt Stone of 180 Degree Health, with his often flame-inducing ballsy challenges to current nutritional beliefs, has often helped me pull my own head out of my powerfully strong ass. I don’t necessarily believe everything he says, but god damn does he make some good points.
His most recent book, Eat For Heat, was just released and is available online. Yes, I resell his stuff. I don’t resell a lot of anything, let alone anything that contradicts what I believe or stand for. You can find the other publications of his I endorse in the sidebar of my blog.
Enough of my drivel. Here’s Matt. 
–batty

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Originally published at batty.us. You can comment here or there.

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gender roles in the gym?

The latest to make its roundabouts in the social media:

The Flip Side: Workout

For the most part, everyone thinks it’s funny. Ok fine, it has its merits. Yes, there are things that women typically do in the gym, and there are things that men typically do in the gym. Stereotypes sufficiently played there, bravo.

There is an undertone to this video thats kind of rubbing me the wrong way, and I will tell you why.

That bench scene? That was totally my friend and I on Tuesday. We do that. In actuality, a lot of women do that. This video seems to suggest that it doesn’t and it is completely ironic and awkward.

There are women out there that act like “dudes” in the gym. Mind you, I am not talking about the lewd ass grabbing and come-ons that are nizz-asty and should not happen. I’m talking about the part where you see the women sweating their asses off under loads of weight, shouting encouragement at each other as they send that weight back to its origin, and hi-5 each other when its done.  We do that.

We sweat.

We push.

We act like “dudes”.

And there is absolutely, positively nothing wrong with that.

And we’re not freakshows, or a totally hilarious comedic concept portrayed in a joke video. I still have a vagina and the inherent sexiness of my bad self is not diminished because of this. I go to the gym, I grunt, I get sweaty, I yell, I sometimes forget to wipe my ass sweat off the seat, too – and I can still look killer in a hot pair of heels and fishnets.

I would like to have it so that when I hit the gym, these “roles” are not assigned, at all. More women, I bet, would be less intimidated to become the awesome, sexy-ass powerhouses they can be. We’re trying so hard for some equality around here – are videos like these actually helping?

Break that stereotype, women. We’re better than that. I will fight for your right to do whatever the hell you want to do in the gym without being judged.

Now wipe that ass sweat off the bench, because ew.

Originally published at batty.us. You can comment here or there.

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that’ll do.

I’ve been catching boog sporting two pairs of underpants at a time. Like, more than once. His reasoning is the arduous task of removing the old underpants takes way too long, and just putting the new ones on over them gets him to his morning game of Minecraft about 10 seconds earlier.

Way to streamline operations there, son. Mommy is so proud.

Things in my life right now are either all at 0 or ALL THE THINGS NOW. This week is one of the latter. I am thoroughly enjoying my stint with the railroad, although 10 hours of it straight with NO BREAKS EVER leads to some interesting post train land sickness in the evenings. We’ve been graced with some pretty glorious weather so it’s not all bad. Hell, what am I talking about? There was a torrential downpour Friday and it was still glorious and pretty because hi, I’m in the woods. And I get to watch the bald eagles all day, when you can catch them. I have indeed seen the baby and one of the parents.

I am the only female bike handler. The rest of the females either work concessions or at the ticket booths. This is not a reflection of any systemic sexism within the railroad, it’s just that the hired females have preferred to sling M&Ms and beer instead of bikes. Obviously I do not want to sling M&Ms.

We were a heck of a lot of understaffed this morning, to the point where the conductor got involved. Upon seeing my lovely visage as the only hired hand, conductor got on the horn to get more people. I kind of overheard him on the radio when he exclaimed WE ONLY HAVE ONE FOR THE BIKE CAR. ITS A WOMAN.

OH MY GOD, A WOMAN, Y’ALL.

…this is NOT how he meant it, he just didn’t know my name. It just sounds funny. I *AM* the woman, thanks for noticing!  I am sure I could have come up with an excuse to be offended or something,  but I was still wafting on a high from benching 120 this morning.  He *did* ask if I was ok with lifting the bikes into the car. Yeah, it’s ok, conductor. I think I got this. Thank you for your concern.

In all honesty, I do have issues with it at some of the stops because I’m shorter, and the floor of the car is sometimes forehead level. Sometimes I gotta shotput the damn things in there.

Later in the afternoon, a lady took a picture of me hoisting her bike in because she was very impressed and told me she had issues getting her bike just into the rack on the back of her car. It all balances out eventually.

Speaking of balance – I’ve got a string of guest posts lined up from people I admire, respect, and think you should listen to.  These will be posted intermittently and with no real schedule. But I am excited to have such awesome folk make words for my webspace.

 

Originally published at batty.us. You can comment here or there.

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Challenges and adventures

So my laptop took a crap last week, and it’s left me trying to run my life the best I can by my Droid. It’s been an interesting experience. I am also fortunate to have many geek friends who can help resurect my poor computer when I reach the limits with my own geek skill. If you have contacted me in one form or another and have not heard back, the above is probably why.

In my continuing quest for adventure, I am spending the fall slingin’ bikes on the bike car for the cuyahoga valley scenic railroad. I saw an opportunity when I took Boog there for a ride and grabbed the everliving crap out of it.

I’m working with kids half my age. But if you will allow me to puff my feathers for a moment, I was asked what school I went to. I guess anyone over 30 is not allowed to be inked and sporting a Mohawk. Not in my world, friends. Not in my world.

I also got dubbed “guns” by the boys by the end of my shift, because Mom unloads bikes from the car with one arm.

My office for the fall is a train in the woods.

Your turn.

I have a lot of plans for more blog stuff that will hopefully get moving once my laptop is back safe and sound. Watch this space, y’all!

Originally published at batty.us. You can comment here or there.

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dogma.

Our church is having an experimental service on Saturday nights throughout August. We decided to attend last night instead of the usual Sunday morning and now I am feeling strangely Catholic.

But I would like to tell you about the Homily. Mind you, this is my own recount and it might not be verbatim.  It ended with a guitar riff, pyrotechnics, and the priest moonwalking back to his seat, although D said he didn’t recall that part happening.

At the Homily, the priest talked about diet. We are told what to eat by various authorities – our doctors, nutritionists, yadda yadda. We make choices and consume things for various purposes – losing weight, getting healthier, getting stronger.

He then pointed out that we also have a Christian diet.  We are instructed to practice various things by our holy authorities. We make our choices and beliefs by these instructions, and our own personal reasoning. We choose what to consume as a Christian.

However, he pointed out, that there’s a lot of fear going on today and the instructions for both are reflecting that. Eat X because Y will kill you. Eat A because B will make you fat. Believe 1 because 2 is something scary. This is truth because Authority Told You So. Be Afraid. If you don’t, the consequences are disastrous.

He told us it was necessary to really take a look at what we are consuming, believing, and doing as Christians and really consider why we’re consuming, believing, and doing those things.

It never ceases to amaze me how, when, and where these Messages From the Universe come to me.

Do you practice your beliefs because it is good and right and it makes you – and those around you –  feel good, or is it out of some kind of fear of the alternative?

Are you suffering because Some Authority told you this is what you have to do in order to be a Good [insert Noun here]?

^^^^^ There are so many labels you can put at the end of that sentence.

Christian. Atheist. Person. Athlete. Skinny Person. Vegetarian. Paleo. $Label.

Are you killing yourself trying to get skinny because you’re afraid of being fat?

Are you dealing with the pain because They said if you don’t, you’re a pussy?

Consider this all today. Take a look at what you are feeding your body and soul and really think about why you’re doing that. Are you making the choices to be – and do – good because you want to be and do good? Or, are you consuming dogma out of fear of other things?

Do things and be things and consume things for the right reasons in every aspect of your life. Fear is not a very good reason.

 

Originally published at batty.us. You can comment here or there.

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technicality

Boog has a buddy down the street. He asked if he could go visit him. I say yes and that he needs to be home when it gets dark.

So the sun goes down, street lights come on. No sign of Boog. I give him another 10 minutes or so to see if he makes good on our agreement. He doesn’t. I walk down the street to find the boys playing in the front yard with light sabers.

I tell Boog that it’s time to come home and remind him that he needed to be home when it got dark.

His reply: I know! I CAN STILL SEE OUTSIDE!

Point, Boog: technicality.

Originally published at batty.us. You can comment here or there.