Friday, August 22, 2014

Andre the Giant doesn't care if you obey the ice bucket challenge or not.

Obey. Or not.

Everybody is doing the ice bucket challenge. And honestly, I think it's great. That doesn't mean that you have to do it, too, to fit in with the cool kids like Amanda Palmer and Weird Al. (Hmmm. My idea of "cool kids" might be different from the norm.)

One of my friends has epilepsy. She probably won't be doing the ice bucket challenge. My mom is in remission from cancer. She is going to skip it, too. A lot of people suffer from severe public-embarrassment allergies. Which is what I have. The idea of filming myself being doused in ice water makes me mildly, meekly FREAK THE EFF OUT. That doesn't mean that I don't enjoy watching you being doused with a bucket of ice water. I enjoy watching your humiliation *immensely." 

Here is my introvert-approved ice bucket challenge. I sit down on a computer, log onto and donate some money to the cause. I can choose whatever amount I like. I don't have only two choices. It doesn't have to be either $10 or $100. Maybe I'll choose $32! or $300,200! At this point, I would like all of you to focus your magical energies on me actually having $300,200 dollars. Thank you. Point is, you can feel just as good and less wet by sitting down and donating money on the internet. You don't even have to put pants on. (If you are going to film the actual ice bucket challenge, please wear pants. Except for you Alexander SkarsgĂ„rd. Mrrrreow.)

Here's the thing. My grandma died of ALS. It was not a fun way to go. She sat there paralyzed, not able to talk or communicate. She was completely aware, but unable to say, hey! stop arguing about politics! Or, you there! I wanted a chocolate milkshake, not this lame vanilla crap! 

Eventually, she stopped being able to swallow or breathe and she died in the hospital. Really, not a fun way to go.

Now, to cheer myself up, I am trying to think of a fun way to go. Maybe a quick painless decapitation from the sword of your enemy while you're chest-deep in pirate gold? Or being split in half instantaneously when out of nowhere a giant dome comes down over half of you and all of your town? Or croaking while being loved to death by a succubus? I really need to take a break from reading ridiculous novels.

There's no need to trash talk the bucket challenge. A gentle snarking is fine, but don't go Matt Walsh all over it. It's just a fun fad. A YouTube sensation. (Please, Lord, let me never be a YouTube sensation, amen.) If someone challenges you and you don't want to do it, say NO. If you don't want to donate money, or much more likely, can't afford to donate money, don't worry about it. Lou Gehrig absolves you. The pressure reminds me of those chain letters from the 80's, where if you didn't forward the chain letter to ten people, you would be cursed blind and fall down a well.  

Go ahead and dump a bucket over your head. Or not. Go ahead and donate money. Or not. Just don't be a dick.

Friday, August 15, 2014

Adorable-izing the Hate

I don't expect everyone to like me. But considering how boring and hermit-like I am, I find it to be strange (and yes, hurtful) when someone absolutely hates me and my Cotton Floozy business. I recently learned about a steamy bit of internet hate written by someone I used to know and still care about.

So, whatevs. What was said was horrible and full of blatant lies and FUN FACT! Did you know that spitting on someone is considered a battery charge (as in assault and battery) of bodily fluids? So maybe you shouldn't tell everyone to go and spit on me. Alert security! And I have a lawyer, just an FYI. 

I decided to handle the situation by turning something mean into something frickin' adorable, so I lifted one sentence from the online hate rant, an admittedly awesome and clever line that didn't involve spitting threats or rampant f-bombs, and stitched it on some muslin and framed it in an embroidery hoop and gave it a pompom trim. 

And listen, everybody rants about somebody sometimes. Good people say horrible things all the time. And horrible people say good things all the time. I don't know how to sort it all out. 

Haters gonna hate, stitchers gonna stitch.

All I know is that stitching a bit of the hate directed towards me was immensely cathartic. It turned my tears (thin-skin) into laughter. If you have any bit of hate that you have received from a crazy ex or an online troll, let me know, either through this blog or my email (thecottonfloozy[at]gmail[dot]com.) Maybe I can adorable-ize it through the power of embroidery. Sharing this blog post will probably result in more hate mail for me, so I would definitely plan on seeing more hate-inspired stitchery in the near future. 

Meanwhile, I am going to focus on the positive people in my life, and tonight I am lucky enough to hang out with some wonderful people, including my friend Stephanie, who is celebrating her birthday. Stephanie has been my friend since we were kids and is one of the ballsiest, funniest people I know. Everybody wish Steph a happy birthday!

I am serious about stitching some of your juiciest hate mail. Lay it on me. My needle and thread are ready.