The Essence of Man. Guest Post from Mr. Julius Williams

Love, silly goose


Advisory: If any of these products are in your possession, RUN

My dearest family and friends,

I come to you today with a heavy heart. But I feel that I owe a public apology to my friends, family and community. Tonight, I had a life changing experience. As my girlfriend and I were enjoying a quiet Sunday evening, we were both overcome with the most egregious, intense funk that I have ever had the unfortunate displeasure to experience. It smelled like a mixture of old man, dead fish, vinegar and bath salts to which my girlfriend exclaimed “ I know that funky smell!”

We raced through the house trying to find whatever demonic possession had taken hold in our happy home when I noticed a peculiar green slim dripping down the bathroom sink. Upon further review, it became clear that Beelzebub had not in fact began his 1000 year reign of terror on earth in our bathroom but instead my bottle of Brut had tipped over and had been slowing leaking for hours.

Although on the positive side, the colors I’ve been seeing for hours are pretty amazing and I now longer have to use my nose hair trimmer because the hairs have been permanently singed away I must confess that I had no idea what I was putting all of you through.

Do you have any idea how much good aftershave costs? I could have bought a house for cash with all the money I’ve spent over the last twenty years on colognes and after shaves. So when I saw the Walgreen’s special for 4.99 I thought I had finally overcome (halleyooyer!).

But I have seen the light. No human being, animal or earthy spirit (and I do believe this funk crossed dimensions) should have to smell that smell. So I humbly apologize to all of you.

In case there are other men out there who have followed down the same dark path, I beseech you, stop now. If not for yourself, for your loved ones and for your community. I’m pretty sure that the ingredients in Brut violate some environmental and/or humanitarian laws. I will be following up with the EPA and the UN in due course.

If any of you wish to help me banish this scurge from the depths of hell, I am starting a fundraising kickstarter to build awareness. You can find our webpage (when it’s up and running) at

Thank you for your support.

-Julius Williams, Jr.


Surprise: I’m getting married and having a baby!!!!!!!!!!!!

domestication, Love, silly goose

Well, technically, no. I mean not yet. I mean, maybe not ever. I mean I grew a pair and confronted my boyfriend in an email (I’m an adult) saying,

“Hey bro, just so you know getting married and possibly having another child is in my life plan and for the record I’m not getting any younger. You down?”

To which he replied. 

“I’ll move out”.

Ohh. Shit. Well, that didn’t really go to plan now did it.

For the record this is how that conversation is supposed to go: 

-Complicated female creature that loves you and is trying to be honest about her life intentions that have been drug out into the light by this little thing called “a new year” and the chest crushing pressure of society and all of the things right in this world to itemize and prioritize her life says:

“Heyyyyyyyy, I know that we just got in a semi-huge fight, so naturally I’m going to use it as an opportunity to say all of the things that I normally would never say to your face. No I’m not drunk. So do you wanna spend the rest of your life and the eternal afterlife with me and at some point in the near-ish future *even though I look like I’m 13 my eggs are nearing the 30 years old mark* wanna put a baby in me? I mean who doesn’t want a baby… with me, right? So yay or nay?”

-Handsome, charming, temporarily in an asshole trance but suddenly shaken into a deeply moved spiritual and love filled place boyfriend replies:

“Okay, sure. I mean yes. More than yes, absolutely! Let me work up some very thoughtful and romantic way to propose to you. We’ll streamline the whole wedding planning thing. It’ll be simple, elegant and expedited. Right after we’ll start making babies. Well, probably just one but hey you’re a level headed human being completely above the sabotage of your hormones so I’ll let you make that call, you always know what’s best.
P.S. I’m sorry for everything that happened earlier, again you’re right (I really can’t tell you that enough), I love you darling. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’ll be home straight away to reassure you all of the above mentioned things to your face and I’m brining wine, so that the next passionate and love filled email that you send me can actually be because you’re drunk.”

But things never go my way. I have absolutely no idea why. It just doesn’t make sense.

I’m accepting, flowers, cards, heartfelt condolences and these:


Couldn’t hurt.

The silver lining, I like to send J emails of really horrid weddings that I see online and say things like, “Hey babe, I love you so much that I’ll let you wear a mad hatter outfit to the alter”. He never replies. But he doesn’t reply no. And when I whisper about it in his ear right before he falls asleep, he says, “Ohh what you’ve set a date?” I think he might be being sincere, like he really just wants me to take some initiative. Yeah?

Right after our “pillow talk” I started whining about how we needed a kitten, a puppy, 2 sea stars and a baby (those are all real things that I really really really need and they need me, especially the sea stars). He said, “Oh what are we just going to go pick up a baby? Maybe we should get a red headed one?”
It’s like he knows that I can’t stand red hair (don’t get all hurt and offended I’m sure that your red hair is to die for).

So, in conclusion. I really think that he’s starting to come around.

J, I love you. Eh? No? You didn’t like this one? Whoops. Really big smile. Does that work?

All of the comments that I didn’t leave on Facebook today, in paragraph format.

silly goose

I’m back from my-life-was-in-shambles-and-I-couldn’t-make-coherent thoughts-much-less-write-something-entertaining-hiatus. Get excited.
But here’s the new problem. I’ve got all of this pent up nonsensical commentary and I don’t know how to moderate it. So, I’m going to just gonna lay it on ya, here’s what Facebook made me think today:

Lawrence Kids– technically adults that chose to behave like children: Jesus H Christ. Can we all just stop having the I’m the biggest hipster competition and the other half of you can stop acting like you’re hardened criminals. PLEASE.

Seconds first. Here’s the thing. You are from Lawrence Fucking Kansas. You did not grow up in the ghetto, maybe a trailer park, but not the ghetto. I grew up in that town just about as poor as possible and wasn’t emotionally wrecked by it. I was young and unsupervised, it wasn’t scary or traumatizing, sorry gigs up dude. Yes, the effects of poverty, socioeconomics, race and opportunity are vast and varied. But, you grew up and live in a beautiful place full of tons of initiatives and people that will bend over absolutely backwards to keep your life out of the gutter. Stop making that CHOICE.

Despite a few very gruesome murders in that town as of late (da fuck?) being part of a “violent culture” is of your own making and choosing. Fuck your street code. Fuck your “you don’t know me’s”. Fuck all of the things that you are doing that makes you feel like a big tough strong man because we all know you. You are from a small privileged place in this world. Do not expend your energy creating a parallel existence full of hatred, crime and being a ‘thug’. It’s not cute and you’re fooling any one, plus your mama is embarrassed.

And now the other half. Seriously I have watched the internet devolution of way to many of you normal nuclear family having, higher educated Lawrencians dive head first down the hipster tunnel, so hard that you broke your neck. (“Hey babe, what’s the opposite of evolution…… Christianity?” That’s real life. but really I’m pretty sure devolution isn’t a word, but I do what I want 🙂 )

hipster lawrence
The issue isn’t all of you boys wearing skinny jeans and Toms it’s the ones of you that decided that you are so incredibly beyond the main stream that you’ve chosen to be a homeless drug addicted drunk. You’ve utilized your exceptional free public education all over card board signs making quippy references to how your homeless and proud now please don’t pity me but give me your change….

Well fuck you. Being homeless is real, over 2,600 people in Lawrence are homeless. That includes an ever increasing number of single women with babies and children that have no where to go. Veterans. Mentally ill people. People who have fallen on extremely hard times and have no other options.  People that are not 20-something year old males that are “lost” in life and decided that living on the street or being a “traveler” was more exciting than working a minimum wage job. Maybe you’re right. But you know what isn’t that exciting. Hepatitis A, B or C. Being a drain on a way over stretched social welfare system and charities that are dedicated to helping those in need. It’s not amusing that you went to rehab. I don’t think that your mug shot is humorous profile pic. It’s fucking sad. You are fucking sad. Be better. The world doesn’t owe you shit and you’re not a victim. You choose this life be accountable.

In other news: 

Facebook: What the face?

I don’t appreciate it when you haven’t gone all Taylor Swift lyrics about your break up and more so about your DIVORCE! Seriously. Your lack of antics is really killing my social media stalking. And you know I like to be in the loop. It really takes a lot of time out of my day when all of the sudden up pops a picture of you and Joey…? Joey? What happened to Bill. I swear to god that you were just MARRIED to Bill. But now it’s all Merry Christmas from Joey, the dogs and I. I feel like you owe all of your vaguely friends (me) the courtesy of at least some documentation of the break up and the acquisition of a new significant other. I mean we’ll take an instagram pic, a slightly referential meme or heaven forbid a publicized Facebook relationship status. Throw us a bone 🙂

Yesterday, in real life, I was eavesdropping on two people discussing a project at a coffee shop. The older gentleman was on a rant about how “kids these days”… yup my 75 year old grandpa is on Facebook… think that their relationships on the Facebook are real.

Uh, well now I’ve got to disagree. They are real. They are different than conventional let’s meet at the local pub relationships. But social media relationships look like all sorts of different things to different people. Let’s not chalk the whole thing up to a fantasy land. Is it a lens into the lives that we wouldn’t normally be privy to? Yes. Is it a forum for people to share the array of their human existence with each other for better or for worse? I think so. Is it detrimental? Maybe. Is it entertainment? I think so. Is it a way for the world to feel smaller? For us to share information? Is it a way for the lonely to feel connected? Heard? Is it a real connection? A real community? I would argue yes.

To be honest I wish that we all still lived in small villages. I’m nostalgic for a time and place where I/we felt like we belonged to the physical place that we live. That’s fleeting. Is it the fault of the internet? Is social media a reaction to urbanization? Is it a side effect? I don’t know.

One day when I’m not so lazy and already don’t have 50 tabs open full of things to read I’ll cite some real research on the power of social connection even when it’s not in person. Until then you can disagree, I guess.

Blurred Visions

silly goose, social awareness
This mornin’ I drove back from dropping Ev off at school and scoured the radio for something listenable. Turns out if Mariachi music isn’t your cup o’ tea then your left with 1 questionable rock station, a semi-oldies station and a NPR that makes KCUR sound like a daily parade for your ears. So I settled on the greatest hits station. Because this was playing:
No freedom til we’re equal 
Damn right I support it 

Now I’m not going to pretend to be savvy to pop culture. Last time I checked Mclemore was getting drafted 🙂 Seriously. And the first time I heard Thrift Shop was from the mouth of a 5 year old. I’m not cool and that’s okay. But this song made me stop the dial. It sounded like semi-spoken word poetry. I just felt a sense of pride that main stream-cool kid-culture is getting something positive shoved down their auditory canals for once.Then Blurred Lines came on. And I turned it up far too loud for 9 in the morning. My booty shook under my seat belt. ‘Cause I’m an animal baby??? Allright. So I think the lyrics are fucked up. He had me until he was going to rip her ass in half. Seriously where is your mother? I do think it’s groovy and I wish I could unknow the lyrics. Yada yada yada google that viral post about how feminists want Robin Thicke to die. They probably have a point. I’m just not really surprised.

I mean I guess it’s good that people have found a cause. But where were they in 1999 when Sisco was bestoying this gem upon us.
Let me see your thong…. seems pretty appropriate for a junior high dance. Or hows about my good friend Sir Mix A Lot? I mean really Baby Got Back was more of a celebration of my backside than degrading. So let’s be real. Sometimes songs that we like, okay really like and most importantly inspire us to find a unsuspecting boy and grind our butts all over don’t have the most savory lyrics. Am I okay with that? I don’t know. Do I support an old skool dance party whenever possible? Sure do.

Now what I’m really angry about was this. In celebration of Beyonce’s 32nd b-day they had a Destiny’s Child/Beyonce marathon and this shiz came out of my speakers:

Let me help you
Take off your shoes 
Untie your shoestrings
Take off your cufflinks (yeah) 
Do ya wanna eat boo (yeah)
Let me feed you
Let me run your bathwater 
Whatever you desire…i’ll supply ya
Sing you a song, turn my game on 
I’ll brush your hair… put your du-rag on 
You want a foot rub (yeah) 
You want a manicure 
Baby I’m yours I wanna cater 2 u boy’

Let me cater 2 you 
Cause baby this is your day 
Do anything for my man 
Baby you blow me away 
I got your slippers, 
your dinner, 
your dessert
And so much more 
Anything you want 
Let me cater 2 u 
Inspire me from the heart
Can’t nothing tear us apart
You’re all I want in a man

Baby I’m happy your home 
Let me hold you in my arms 
I just want to take the stress away from you 
Makin sure that i’m doin my part (oh)
Boy is there something you need me to do (oh)
If you want it (i got it) 
Say the word (i will try it)
I know whatever I’m not fulfilling
another woman is willing (oh)
Im gonna fulfill you my body and spirit 

I promise ya i’ll keep myself up 
remain the same chick,you fell in love with
I’ll keep it tight,I’ll keep my figure right
I’ll keep my hair fixed,keep rocking the hottest outfits
When you come home late, tap me on my shoulder i’ll roll over
Baby I heard you Im here to serve you if it’s love you need 
to give it is my joy, all I want to do is cater to you boy 

Are you flipping kidding me ladies??? “I know whatever I’m not fulfilling another woman is willing.” “I’ll keep it tight, I’ll keep my figure right.” Are are fucking kidding. Is anyone else outraged? 

Maybe there’s a totally double standard here. I’m open to that debate. But I can brush off a dude telling me to shake my ass but a fellow group of women lamenting about all of the things that they have to cater to their man so they don’t run off and get fulfilled by another woman. Well fuck that dude. Be my guest. Run off. ‘Cause you’re gonna have to have sunshine coming out of your ass before I’m going to untie your shoes, brush your hair, run your bath water, make you dessert and “serve you if it’s love you need”. I’m angry that these words even exist. 

It’s one thing to listen to degrading words come from a mans mouth. But it’s another for women to say it to them selves and set that standard. 

Sorry bro, I ‘aint Beyonce, Kelly or Michelle. I’m also not an animal.  But I could use my bath water run. Any takers? 

To their credit they did write Bills, Bills, Bills… now there’s something that I can identify with 🙂 

*vintage post from when Blurred Lines was news*


Love, silly goose

Last weekend was super fun. Halloween came a little early here. Which is totally fine in our book. 2 weeks ago I wreathed and decorated our front window. Halloween is truly the most glorious holiday of the year.

Our actual costumes are still in the works. Ev is being frozen complete with gown and wig. Until then here’s her super adorable Charlie Chaplin impression. That makeup took 3 baths to get off. On Sunday and Monday she looked like a Chola. Just helping her fit in 🙂


Madrid is this magical little super hippy local art squat town off the highway place. People flock there to be bisare. I love it there, all of it except the no indoor plumbing situation. I really can’t get behind any sort of “intentional living” or off the grid situation if I can’t have flushing toilets. There’s a reason why I live in the 1st world. (Visit me we’ll go for just as long as our bladders will hold out then we’ll drive back to town). This year was their 22 (or some pretty big number) annual he/she bang.It’s basically a cross dressing get silly party and performance. This year was cowboy and aliens themed. Life doesn’t get much sweeter.

My original plan was to be Barbarella-esq. But it kind of devolved into being a Ross Dress for Less supplied fembot thing. Regardless I had cone boobs. They were such great fun.


My absolute favorite part of the night was when Julius and I were on a really crowded porch and trying to go back in. There was a group of middle aged guys ogling my geometric goodies. One of them very politely asked if he could “touch them”. He reaches out slowly like a junior high boy nervously trying to make it to the next base. In that split second I had the idea to jump when he touched them. Just as he gave them a little tweak I let out a scream and he go so scared. Backed up, fell into another group of people. I stood there laughing just long enough for him to regain his footing and say, “You would do that to me”. Ha. That’s what you get for touching my faux boobs.


We got there it was swell. We ran into Santa Clause. And his wife (gay lover? the jury is still out we have conflicting testimonies of the events) is the TOOTH FAIRY. It was so tracking funny to see Santa and The Tooth Fairy sexy dance in a bar. J was supposed to take pictures of it but he was, “Trying to not be rude” and too busy having a stroke from how flipping funny  that it was.

Here’s some pics of Santa and me. NBD.


Here’s one of him staring straight at my boobs. I feel like I automatically get off the naughty list for at least a couple of years.


Life is sweet and hilarious!

wild life

science says, silly goose

My friend Erin Brown wrote this lovely post about her recent experience with snakes. I just tucked that notion away for a rainy day..or ya know for the next time that I ran into a snake or bear and needed to find some inner peace to keep me from shipping my pants right then and there. (For real though, her post is beautiful, mine is ridiculous). Speaking of bears, here’s a fun story about how I live in the land of bears. And up until today when I heard real life stories about bears trying to come into Santa Fe homes I was really into crossing paths with a bear cub I thought it might go a little something like Blueberries for Sal and less like home invasion wild giant hungry animal edition. So dream ruined.

Back to my parallel Erin story. I keep running into fish. Well fish on the internet, fish in stories, the remnants of the fish formerly known as fishy fish fish fish.  The other day Julius and I were reading about Pacu fish that apparently have an appetite for human testicles….. well until further googling discredited the myth. But those teeth tho. Shizzz. I’ve never been so glad to have internal gonads.

fuuucchhhkkkkk teeth

Pacu, he must be British.

bad-teeth-tony-blairEvidence: Tony Blair.

This morning I was reading about the giant grouper, just a potentially 9 foot long 900 pound devourer of all things that I never even heard of before.

grouper                          Grouper it’s what’s for dinner.

15veraDesigner hand bag anyone? Or do you just want to make out? (Yes, I’m going to hell)

Maybe we should have covered this somewhere along to lines of avoid sting rays, jelly fish, sharks and GIANT FLIPPING SHARK EATING FISH. This isn’t the best video but the audio is priceless. Check out the youtube clip of a shark being eaten.

“I bet you 1000 million zillion ohh I don’t know. I bet the shark was like his day is fracked up already, it can’t get any worse.” 

Long story short. All of these fish run ins must mean one thing:

“Fish is a symbol of fertility, eternity, creativity, femininity, good luck, happiness, knowledge and transformation. In Christianity, it is said the fish is a symbol of abundance and faith as observed in the Biblical story of fishes and loaves. Pagan traditions recognize the fish as a feminine symbol of fertility and an attribute of the Goddess.”

I am a goddess, hear me roar.