Period Strike

According to science I’ve already bled enough for my period so if it’s all the same can it be over now? I know I only woke up with them this morning but fair is fair and my diva measuring goblet never lies. I’ve had my 60-80ml that textbooks claim is normal so I’m out now. I’ve been really patient about getting three periods worth in my first two days and then still continuing on fo a few more days before my period actually ends but I’ve had enough. I’m 36, I’m too old for this shit.

Science, I give you this ultimatum, either you stop my period once your specified amount of blood loss is over OR you modify your clearly ridiculous figures that you pulled out of your obviale arse that didn’t want to be bothered actually researching such a ooooickyladpartsnooooo issue. Robin out.

Confessions of a Mad Mooer: The Mad Robin in the Attic #rant

Everything is awesome

I like having a bit of a write (and evidently a lot of a rant). In my adult life I’ve now written three novels, two children’s fantasy novels and most recently a memoir or a me-moi as my daughter says. Add to that the three fabulous novels I wrote in Primary School (viciously slammed by the critics, siblings can be so cruel,  but take it from me they were sensational) and I’m quite the novelist. So it surprised me somewhat when I told a friend that I’d just written a me-moi and they responded by saying, “Oh, are you still writing? I thought you’d give up now that you’d spent time in a psychiatric hospital. Wouldn’t you be unpublishable now?”
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      WHAT THE ACTUAL F!!!!

I responded with something resembling a sentence and then disengaged from the conversation as soon as was politely acceptable. Clearly they’re unfamiliar with Susanna Kaysen and the now famous quote from Girl Interrupted, “Don’t point your finger at crazy people.” Obviously nothing bad happened to them, I didn’t explode or bark or start wailing or use too many ors in a sentence or forget to use commas… I just muttered something about liking writing and then retreated to the blanket fort in my head. Here’s what I should have said –

Serious, literary, lego me

In 1979 two great things happened, I was born (shamelessly arrogant but I feel the sense of drama was required) and The Mad Woman in the Attic was first published. The Mad Woman in the Attic was possibly my favourite text that I studied in University. And you Good Sir should read it. Because not only would you lock away the “mad woman” in literature but also in society. As soon as a woman is counter to your understanding she is to be boxed up and put away. Did it not occur to you that not all who seek help are snivelling,  messy haired, violent psychopaths? That we can be productive members of society? That perhaps the locking away and stigmatising of the “mad woman” is what forces them into violent gibberhood. And so what if I am a crackpot? At least I am in good company! Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, Virginia Woolf, Luanne Rice, Elizabeth Wurtzel, Suzanna Kaysen and Patricia Cornwell have all been considered raving loonies at some point. They’ve all spent time in “supportive environments whilst they recovered from exhaustion.” So when you think about it, being barking mad would pretty much be a prerequisite. If anything I should be expecting a bunch or marauding female novelists to come barging through my door at any given moment in order to clutch me to their collective bosom and shower me with literary agents’ contact details. I too am now a raving writer. I too drink tea like it’s on tap. Ich bin ein lunatic. And honestly what real writer doesn’t have a scarf, a beret and a jumbo sized pack of antidepressants on them at all times? (I’m pretty sure I stole part of that quote from a joke about stereotypes made by Destination Saigon authour, Walter Mason) So just go take your snivelling comment and stuff it down you fluffy, lemon, jumper.

Oh, on second thoughts, it’s probably better that I didn’t say that. Let’s face it, if I did he probably would have just said, “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense if you think about it like a crazy person.”

Unequivocal proof of my madness, not even my kids are safe from me logoising them.

Denise Scott, Mother Bare: A Reflection Statement*

Now when I go see a lady comedian I look for one thing,  and one thing alone, is there a lot of mention of vag. And I’m pleased to say Scotty not only delivered (oh yes, pun intended) but then gave even more. Some female comedians these days do a brief reference to the fanwah in order to tick off the stereotype but then move on to talking about other things like… I don’t know, not important things… cars or something? Not only did Scotty brush over the vajayjay she went deeper, much, much deeper.

Yup, that’s right, Scotty went uterus deep. I don’t want to give away too much (“Spoilers Sweetie,” as the Whovians say) but her plunge into the female anatomy had one young gentleman so excited that he had to run out and Google prolapse before the show ended. He certainly looked far more satisfied when he returned so I can only imagine he found the answers he was looking forward.

I have to say that Scotty didn’t just inspire a love of learning in the runner but also in the young women in the audience. When asked what a bicornuate uterus was one young lass answered “like two,” following up with, “well, bi means two!”

And of course it does. As an English teacher I can assure you her teacher would be proud. Very proud because knowing bi means two is one thing but knowing what cornuate (horn like) refers to is another level entirely. Have to admit I was picturing some sort of devil uterus with two horns, thank goodness I wasn’t asked because I can imagine that response would have opened up can of worms one show just couldn’t untangle.

Cesareans,  episiotomies and bitches who get through birth with no vaginal woes also got a nod. So if you like your comedy vag focused, you’re in for a treat. I do, I’m not thinking of getting Judith Lucy’s signature on my pelvis for nothing.

Apart from vages Scotty also told some stories of her early days doing stand up. I’m wondering if she is considering doing a “Where are they now” episode so that the rooster sucker can be heard over the voice over. “Suck my….” “Denise, do you remember this voice?” Oh my giddy aunt.

There were also some fantastic family stories that had us all rolling but again, Spoilers Sweetie. BUT I feel that I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that there are clown references and a photo is displayed at one point that is actually far creepier than the clown from Spawn. You have been warned.

Highly recommend that you grab a ticket to one of the additional shows put on. It is seriously hilarious. Just do me a favour. Take a male with you. Preferably a male like my mate Pete who said to me, “The only thing I know about womb is it’s how you start to spell wombat and both are dirty, hairy and belong in the wild.”

* Why a reflection statement rather than a review?  Firstly, I’m not a reviewer so wouldn’t do reviewing justice. I mean I don’t even drink coffeeor smoke, which I’m told are the base level requirements. If they change the criteria to bitchy tea drinkers then I’m in. Secondly,  I’m going through my existential phase at the moment so relate everything back to my life these days. It’s been going for around 23 years now so I’m thinking I may be coming out of it soon.