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Ann Brown
In my head anywhere I go
I am the only person in the Pacific Northwest who doesn't garden or ride a bike. When I left LA my friends said to me, "you are going to hate the constant rain. You won't be able to get out and do anything." Well, HAH. When your hobbies are overeating and reading, the rain really doesn't affect your lifestyle much.
Interests: thinking about shit and making up other shit and talking shit about shit i think about. also, making soup.
Recent Activity
Hi, remember me? I haven't blogged much since The Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Election. I've mostly been eating. You know, doing my part. But the other day, after mailing in my ballot for the midterms, I decided I'd check in with you. Because when everything goes to shit and people are so much worse than you could ever believe and the mean fuck in the White House is only the face of the problem, just the tip of the iceberg, and your vote isn't even going to count because of gerrymandering and voter suppression, well, it's time to... Continue reading
Well, it looks like Robin is going to live. And I guess I'm okay with it. Hahaha, I mean, I am very happy about it. I know, I know, about five years ago I blogged about how I thought our marriage was in such great shape because I wished he were dead only about 50% of the time, and everyone got all worked up about my mean sense of humor and my cold heart and blah blah blahbbaty blah. I still stand by my belief that if one is married for 37 years and wishes one's spouse dead only 50%... Continue reading
In the winter of 1965, the year I turned eleven, I turned my back on the Jewish people. My sister and I were bored. Mom said to go for a walk, surely counting on the fact that we wouldn't. But it was the last days of winter break and we had nothing to do, so we put on our sneakers and hit the streets to check out the goings-on in North Hollywood. We walked without talking. Suddenly, Karen stopped dead in her tracks. “Look,” she whispered, and pointed to a long driveway in front of us. I squinted but didn’t... Continue reading
The best Chanukah gift I ever got was when I was twenty-two years old: I was sprung from prison. I was on tour to promote my first album - Jewish folk music that was going to catapult me to the top of the pop charts. I was the girl singer, a last minute replacement for the original singer, who, as I see it now, got out just in the nick of time. Our trio, Serenade, sang in synagogues and Jewish Community Centers, places where the audiences were thrilled to see anyone under the age of ninety singing Jewish music, and... Continue reading
Hello again. It's been a while. I apologize for my long absences and spotty communication. Fucking GOP. They owe me my humor-writing career. And a good night's sleep. And about seven refills of Xanax. They can have the dozen or so pounds I've gained since Inauguration Day. As it turns out, protest marching isn't quite the calorie-burner I had hoped it would be. Particularly when I do most of my marching from my couch. On Facebook. With snacks. Bringing down The Man one Wheat Thin at a time. And I've had nothing to say. The right-wing clusterfuck in DC is... Continue reading
As I approach my 63rd birthday, I feel a need to account for the passing time. But I am coming up blank. It is concerning, and not just a little bit mortifying, I must say. I mean, sixty-three years. You'd think I'd have more to show for it than a blog about myself, five pairs of Dansko clogs, and a new cluster of liver spots on my chest that rivals Gorbachov's head. I should have kept a diary. Although if family photos from 1954 to 1957 are any credible indication, my first major accomplishments were smiling at food, pretending to... Continue reading
I officially put my bra on like an old lady this morning. Sitting on the bed. Hooking the bra. Then stepping into it. Pulling it up. Shaking it all in. God. I have aged, like, fifty years since the election. I should start calculating my age in trumpyears. Fifty to one. I'm 112 since January. And not a spry 112. My current fitness goal is simply to be able to step into my underpants without falling over. I have, so far, achieved very limited success in this endeavor. To see me in silhouette through the curtains - as my neighbors... Continue reading
I woke up this morning with a dog butt in my face and dried yak cheese in my hair. I slept fitfully on a corner of 1/4000th of my King size bed while the dogs mounted imperialistic campaigns throughout the night and finally, took over the rest of the bed. Including the TV remote. I'm wearing the same leggings I put on twenty-nine hours ago. I cannot remember if I peed today or not. I cry all the time and wipe my nose on my sweatshirt sleeve. Robin is out of town and I'm a single parent with two dogs.... Continue reading
Dear "Liberals Only" employment agency, I really hate to bring this up again. I know you are very busy, but things are pretty tight with me right now, too. Four visits a day to Starbucks to tell the barrister to write "He's Not My President" on my cup is taking a big bite out of my budget. I really need my paycheck. My hours: I made two trips to the airport this week to hold up a "You Are Welcome Here" sign for the Muslims who had been sent back last week. True, I waited at the wrong end of... Continue reading
Finally. I have a sign for the march this week. "No Dryer, No Peace!" Yes, it will confuse people. But the message will go to the heart of the true enemy: Sears Appliance Repair. They're gonna feel me. Two weeks. Two weeks without a working dryer. Five cancellations. Two actual visits where the dryer died, literally, hours after the technician left. Monies paid. Fourteen phone calls, eleven without my saying "fuck", and you know how much that had to take out of me. The phone conversations were very problematic. I had to ask everyone to repeat their names, sometimes twice... Continue reading
Once upon a time, there was A Very Angry American. In September, she donated one hundred dollars to ActBlue but she was Still Angry. In October, she made two hundred phone calls for Hillary but she was Sill Angry. In November, she convinced three undecided voters to vote Democratic, but treason won over reason and Trump won, and she was Still Angry. In December, she signed four bajillion Facebook petitions and blocked five FB friends who told her to chill out, but she was Still Angry. In January, she gained six pounds from stress eating, made approximately seven phone calls... Continue reading
5:30 am. Thursday. I wake up in pitch darkness, teeth chattering. The fireplace is empty, save for a few glowing embers. We ran out of firewood around 2AM. It's snowing outside and we have no heat. The power has been out for, like, a million days. Or two days. I have no idea anymore. I feel weak and confused. I reach for the wineglass I drained at midnight. There are a few crumbs of chocolate cake in it. But not for long. It's very dark down here in the lower floor of my split-level house. The only light - dim... Continue reading
Time to get out my marching boots. Gonna be doing a lot of protesting in the next four years. I'm dusting off my "End The War In Viet Nam" sign and filling my fanny pack with snacks and Advil. I'm ready. Just give me a little Wite-Out so I can change "Viet Nam" to "Trump Is a Lying Sack Of Deranged Hubris". Maybe a nice flower sticker for the "i" in "Hubris". Because love. Oh,and maybe I'll sneak a link to my blog on my sign. Boomer resisters have expendable cash (for now) and I wouldn't hate being monitized. Sturdy... Continue reading
Shit is just too fucking real now. My survival plan for the next four years is this: when they go low, I get high. Also, I watch Hallmark Channel Christmas movies. They are my secret Jewish shame. And - as my friend Monique pointed out - secret feminist shame. Those women. My God. All they want is a man. And they don't nab one by languishing, unwashed, in bed, watching TV, getting high and cursing at reactionary motherfuckers. Although that's totally how I got my man. Anyway. Getting high and watching Hallmark Christmas movies has got me thinking. This is... Continue reading
So. Welcome to Clusterfuckistan. I honestly did not expect to be here tonight. I thought I would still be in the country of my birth, dancing around in my pantsuit and drinking Mazeltov cocktails. There is more hate in this country than a lot of us realized. This is an exceedingly sobering fact for me who - despite my lifelong pessimistic re-set button - has secretly believed in the power of Good. But sometimes Good doesn't win. Sometimes Good gets its ass kicked because hatred and ignorance and gullibility get in its way. It happens. Maybe sometimes Good gets its... Continue reading
Oh my fucking God. This new puppy is going to kill me. I thought I was too old to get Phila four years ago. Now I am four years older, fatter, more exhausted and less motivated to put effort into doing the right thing with Louie. I am even too tired to do the wrong thing. Louie knows I'm weak. He probably thinks I'm just another omega, a damaged rescue living in the house. Which isn't completely wrong. Louie is currently into vibing me when I am eating, and stealing my bras. Is this what life is like in women's... Continue reading
Phila: Bark! Bark! Bark! Where is Robin? Me: Well, I need to tell you something...Robin went to Iowa-- Phila: --Bark! where is Robin? Me: I'm trying to tell you. Robin went to Iowa to get you a doggiebrother. Phila: Bark! Can I have a treat? Me: Later. So, listen, this is important. Your new doggiebrother has been kept in a cage for seven months and we are rescuing him from bad people-- Phila: --do you have any treats? Me: What???? Phila: Did you even buy treats when you went shopping? (rolls her eyes at me) FML. Me: Phila. Listen. We... Continue reading
Oy fucking vey (OFV), it's almost that time of year again: Atonement Day. Atoning. Why is this necessary? Isn't it enough that I feel bad about all the shitty things I've done? As I told my kids all their lives, the important thing is that you feel bad. And then you overeat afterwards so you feel shame. Hey, instead of having to fast on Yom Kippur, we should overeat. THAT would totally make us feel remorseful. The problem with fasting is that I feel so virtuous. Like I could go out and commit a transgression against humanity because, you know,... Continue reading
My First Seven Jobs: blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Counselor at an outdoor wilderness program in Quebec. Let's pause here. If you know me - if you know me at all, if you've read my blog, if you've ever run into me at the market or in my backyard (the only two places I go), you will think this story is a lie. You will be wrong. There are only two words necessary to explain how I wound up being a counselor in Quebec at an outdoor wilderness program that featured juvenile delinquents and untamed nature:... Continue reading
So, you know that Claire and I are great friends, right? We talk (and by "talk" I mean, Facebook or email. We don't talk) almost every day. We've co-written a novel and we're working on a really cool compilation of stories by some kickass awesome women, stories about food. We love each other's families. We talk (don't talk) about everything. We are connected in our heads and our hearts. We are practically the same person, we like to say to each other. Except this happened. Claire wrote an article today for Babymama magazine about walking. Well, it's about more than... Continue reading
My friend Katie's four-year-old son asked her if I have penis. The conversation went like this: "Well, she's a girl, so what do you think?" "Yes, she has a penis." "Actually, no. Girls have vaginas so she has a vagina" "Oh! She has a bagina?" "Yep!" "Oh, is it a dark bagina?" "Um, well I am not sure. I haven't seen anyone else's vagina." "Oh." This conversation is exactly why life is awesome. Whenever you feel a little bit down, you know, with all the shit going on in the world, with Donald Trump spewing his snake oil everywhere, all... Continue reading
I am wearing my dead mother's underpants. Is that weird? I packed them up after she passed away, and I took them with me. I did it because I felt protective of her privacy and I didn't want a bunch of estate sale people looking at them. But when I got back to Oregon with them, I just couldn't throw them away. It felt too...sad. Plus, I saw that they are really fancy high end, expensive underpants. Vanity Fair. And, as far as I am concerned, if you are looking for some Very Fancy Underpants, look no further than the... Continue reading
So, my mom died a couple of months ago. When I tell people that my mom died, they are sad for me. And then, when I tell them that she was 91 years old, they are less sad for me because, let's face it, the death of a 91 year old isn't exactly shocking or particularly tragic. But people who have lost their moms understand. She was my mom. Honestly, I thought she was going to outlive me. Other than the dying part, she was a brochure for living. She said YES to everything in life, and refused to let... Continue reading
Bobby Seale is on Facebook! This is huge. And thrilling. And alarming. Because Black Panthers on Facebook is the ninth sign of the Mainstream Apocalypse. With all the shit going down these days you might have forgotten to worry about the Mainstream Apocalypse. Well, I haven't. I've been seeing the signs. It started when pot became legal in Oregon. Wait, you say, that was a good thing. Who doesn't love pot? But here's my problem with it: I don't want to smoke legal weed. That's so lame. You get high and all you want to do is go to Chipotle.... Continue reading
I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe I have SADD, or something. Or MADD. Maybe I have GLAAD. Or all three. Maybe I am a drunk lesbian who languishes without sunshine. All I know is that I defo have ENNUI. And envy (NV). Everyone around me is doing so great. Which is really quite insensitive of them, considering my sad state of affairs. Even Oprah has a newfound joie de vivre, hawking Weight Watchers. Have you seen her? She's all, "we can do it together!" and "don't you want to be thin?" And she's looking right at me. I... Continue reading