I found this incredible free storage tub, and I’ve been storaging my ass off.
Continuing in the fine old tradition of Twistational undeadness
Published October 13th, 2007 in Announcements and Austin.53 Responses to “Continuing in the fine old tradition of Twistational undeadness”
- 1 Pingback on Oct 21st, 2007 at 7:01 pm
I’m delighted to know you’re not dead, but frankly I’m surprised you have any ass to ‘off’ after all this shopping and storaging. Keep well, and we’ll try to wait patiently for your triumphant return.
You know, last week I was taking a train ride with my son and I forgot to bring a book of crosswords so I bought a magazine at the train station. I picked Marie Claire, and you know what? It actually had some feminist content. The least fashion-maggy article was by a lesbian whose partner had gotten breast cancer and was not keen on the pinkification of the support groups. She’d opted not to re-boob or wear prosthetics after her double mastectomy, and that freaked out the other women in the Breast Cancer Club. She didn’t get a wig (instead dyed her hair pink and blue before it fell out). She didn’t mask chemo-sallow skin with makeup. She didn’t try to make her cancer easier on strangers and the patriarchy. (Alas, I think there were other pages featuring things you can buy to show your support for cancer pinkification.)
There was also an article about a budding trend in England for women to go to strip clubs to pay men $40 for naked lap dances, and to binge-drink. The trend was not overtly criticized as much as one would hope, but the editor’s column did inquire, “Is this really what feminism is all about?” (It is not.)
In the Jennifer Garner profile, she mentioned breastfeeding her daughter for 14 months, and nobody said, “Ew” or inquired as to how she fixed her postpartum body.
I just ignore the 150 pages of ads, hideous fashions, and makeup, and hey, overall it’s a decent read.
This has been your mainstream fashion magazine apologia for 2007. Carry on.
I’m surprised you have an ass left, after all that shopping.
Thanks for throwing us a bone. We were obviously getting kind of desperate. I hope you will be back in full throttle soon!
I am all for the Twistational Undeadness.
I was starting to worry. That storage tub rocks, lid or no lid.
I found this incredible free storage tub
Some girls have all the luck.
Glad to hear you’re still enjoying your undeadness.
It has been my experience that no matter how much I Whatever My Ass Off, it always returns pronto. Lately it’s always returned with more to it. I’m beginning to wonder where it’s spending those lost weekends.
Sometime soon someone’s going to ask you to put a lid on it.
But not me. I loves me some Twisty.
Happy, no, ecstatic to see you are still both Twistational and undead. Looking forward to further updates.
Twistational undeadness! [sigh of relief…]
Howling postponed, wimpering continues.
I hope all is well with you and yours.
May the light
always find you
on a dreary day.
When you need to be home,
may you find your way.
May you always have courage
to take a chance,
And never find frogs in your
underpants.
Why in the world would someone discard such a fine storage tub? Glad that you snatched it up at once! If you find a frog in your underpants, you’ll have somewhere to put it.
I must say, my little feminist heart soared when my daily check-in at IBTP was heralded with an empty green storage tub, and no longer “father’s love” and “knife sharpist.” Twistational undeadness is thrilling news. That green tub will only hold so much. When your storaging has filled it up, I do hope you’ll return to the land of public patriarchy blaming.
I would quite like to find a frog in my underpants, actually.
Well, this little Wolf wonders if Twisty will have to get those saline-filled prosthetic ass pads Hank Hill had in an episode of King of the Hill, so she can sit in comfort.
In a related story IBTP for the phrase “my ass off” in relation to physical activity, because I can only conclude it is in reference to women exercising to make their asses smaller for the benefit of the menz.
Twisty, hope your family matters, if that is indeed what’s going on, are happy ones or at least not tragic, and that the nieces are doing well.
I would quite like to find a frog in my underpants, actually.
I’ve known women keeping weirder things in their cooch so you might be able to pull this off.
I think I have your lid. I’ll send it to you with some tacos.
What’s all this about throwing us bones?
I’m glad you’re undead, and it’s just the season for it, too.
Hey
Are you really opening the Anne Richards Memorial Wine Bar? Really?
I was at the mall the other day (because that’s where the Borders store is.)
The water in the frigging water fountain was pink.
And Panera’s pink ribbon bagel is disgusting (they had free samples out). As cloyingly insipid as the entire campaign.
Speaking of pink-ribbon products, how’s this to turn your stomach?
http://prblog.typepad.com/strategic_public_relation/images/campbells_pink_soup_label_1.jpg
Thanks for being undead, Twisty. We miss your blogiositude!
Incredible storage, indeed. A festive shade of green, to boot! We delight in the undeadness of it all!
Twisty,
I have a lid that lacks a storage tub. It too was sort of free. It was left leaning against the inside of the porch in an uninhabitable old house on land we bought. It is a festive shade of red, which might smack a bit of Christmas when coupled with your tub. I think perhaps that the shipping and/or travel costs to couple the tub and lid might be prohibitive if looked at in a practical sort of light. If however one looks at this as some sort of karmic destiny that this particular tub and this particular lid must meet, then practicality be damned. At the moment though, I’m not feeling any particularly strong karmic thing.
rainie
Glad you still number among the undead. As others have noted, it’s just the right time. It’s peak undead party season.
No, no, no! It is not “undeadness”! Twisty is not undead! (Unless there’s something she’s not telling us.) The undead *are* in fact dead–”postdead,” really–but reanimated for the purpose of drinking our blood and eating our brains like good metaphors of the patriarchy. Whereas Twisty is not and has never been dead, so she is *notdead,* not undead.
That is all. Carry on.
Storaging is good, but it is not my immediate destiny. Throw-outaging is what I need to do. I need to rent or borrow a truck. I need to finally admit that I’m not gonna get it together to actually sell the stuff that might have value. The three categories have shrunk to two: donate or toss/recycle. There are too many spiders in my storeroom, though. I know that IBTP is a spider lovin’ zone. It has had an effect on me, as a few weeks ago, I saw a large neon-yellow and black behemoth of a spider outside, clinging to a screen, and I didn’t shriek. I admired her and looked her up (Golden orb spider) and did not bother her.
But she wasn’t in my storeroom. She was near the garden. If I saw her in my storeroom, I could not kill her obviously. But I could not work in there, either. If I’d already rented the truck, I might be able to use a winch or forklift to escort her out, and then drive her to the country and let her lumber out of the truck bed herself.
Five years later, I would resume the throw-outaging.
Now I need a nap. Twisty, hope the family and your furry animal companions are okay.
Hey, I remember many years ago, when I was a youngster, “buying a lid” referred to the purchase of a small amount of marijuana. Are small amounts of marijuana still called lids? Was it only ever a regional reference?
There was that Krofft show called “Lidsville”…it had talking hats on it, but pretty much everyone knew what it really meant.
My anarchistic weed-growing ex-husband giggled when I mentioned a lid of pot, so I guess they don’t call it that anymore. Or, he was high.
Hey, that’s a nice tub!
Can’t even fit a patriarchy in thar.
Hey, Twisty.
Flamethorn: WAS IT PUNCH!?!?! And if not, why the hell not? Oh my god, a punch water fountain. It’s like all my second grade dreams coming true.
Holla, Twisty.
Oh man oh man oh man, I love it when you post Twiztie.
Kudos to the shopping spree Twisty. I cannot wait ’till you come back to give us your refreshing blaming posts.
But now that we are on the subject of shopping for rather random things in Austin, TX: what are some cool restaurants or cafes to visit there? Any good jazz or music bars? And interesting shopping (besides the places you have mentioned in your blog)? I am visiting Austin for the first time in early November with my sister and I would love to get some advice from a fabulous feminist Austinian, thanks!
No, it wasn’t a regional reference (to a lid of pot), but I think it is, at this point, anachronistic. Or antediluvian. (Probably not the latter, but I just like the word, patriarchal/godbaggian references notwithstanding.)
Antediluvian, OMG. Some of y’all weren’t even born yet when I stopped smoking teh marijuana.
Lara: do you live near Rainie? Because maybe you could bring Twisty the non-smoketastical lid.
Also, Lara, be sure and check the archives so you and your sister can take the Public Twahlettes (aka Cans) of Austin Tour. Next time I’m in Austin, I am totally going to do that.
if you haven’t got a lid, you can’t do any storaging
how can you do any storaging if you haven’t got a lid?
stay undead Twisty
British Daily Mail columnist Melanie Phillips blames feminism for dirty hospitals.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/columnists/dailymail.html?in_article_id=487632&in_page_id=1790&in_author_id=256
Grrr!!!
For some reason, this post reminds me of this bit:
Bah. Okay, so this Hugh Laurie song intended to represent biting satire (you decide whether it succeeds).
No, no, no! It is not “undeadness”! Twisty is not undead! (Unless there’s something she’s not telling us.) The undead *are* in fact dead–”postdead,” really–but reanimated for the purpose of drinking our blood and eating our brains like good metaphors of the patriarchy. Whereas Twisty is not and has never been dead, so she is *notdead,* not undead.
Is postdead anything like postfeminist? If so, then I’m all for staking ‘em. Gives me nightmares, that stuff.
Here’s hoping for more Twist-atious blaming soon. Until then, that’s one kicking storage bin, lidded or otherwise.
Kind of like a uterus.
Is this some sort of sign Twisty? Is this an offer? Have you finally felt the ominous ticking of your biological clock?
You know, I wish you had a bug blog. I miss me some bug pictures. I am re-reading that Sue Hubbell book, Broadsides from the Other Orders, have you read that? It’s wonderful.
Twisty, I’m glad you’re still alive, but your blog is dead. RIP, IBTP.
The dream is over, kids. Long live the dream.
re: breast cancer
a strip club in my neighborhood is doing a fund-raiser for breast cancer research (every lap dance gets half the money donated, or something like that). there’s a gigantic sign out front that says
SAVE THE BOOBIES!!!
uhh… thanks, guys. if there’s anything else we women can do to reduce the pain and suffering that you men must go through when we get breast cancer, you just let us know.
Edith, it was just the standard water fountain that’s outside the mall. It’s a pool projecting up from the sidewalk high enough to sit on the edge of, maybe 8 feet across. When there is no water in it the fountain pipes still stick up looking quite deadly, and cause me to have mental images of random ninja fights where people get thrown onto them and impaled.
And they have dyed the water in it pale pink.
Oh that kind of fountain. I too, Flamethorn, thought you were referring to a drinking fountain. IBTP for the pinkification of every fucking thing.
Rectangular green uterus? Wait, have I missed something?
I hope somefemmibody’s at least thrown some nice sparkly bubblebath into that fountain by now.
Larkspur, you have an excellent idea - rainie can start the “Lid Across America” campaign whereby the lid is transported from one IBTP fan to another until it reaches Twisty’s abode. We could all do our karmic part, no?
I loved the visual of the spider being forklifted for the ride out to the countryside…
Hey, Nancy, I think there’s a movie in that there lid journey. Ooh, like the Olympic torch. Each person takes a snapshot while holding the lid, then affixes that photo to the lid, and hands it off for the next leg of its journey.
I am available for a Northern California segment, but I guess that depends on where rainie and Lara live.
Anyway. Wanna live, here to help.