¿Piece of Cake?

On this here Hallow's Eve, let me offer you a piece of my wedding cake from Halloween 1993...

We're both still alive.

It was mid thirties outside, but the band that played in the woods where my ex-husband and I were married still insisted on playing nakedly, which was fine by me. The "minister" was a giant armadillo "Armadillo Tao" and my bridesmaid, who made this beautiful cake and was dressed as a witch, had me roll dice in the ceremony which only seemed to further mock the whole fabulous event. How else was I going to wear a white hippy dress at my wedding, but to have it be a costumed event? My grandmother, my only blood relative who attended (besides my eldest daughter- who I held the entire time) was very concerned about me when she asked me two weeks later if I belonged to a religious cult in a way that sounded like code for, "Do you need help?" It's still the best party I've ever attended or thrown (besides, maybe, my former roommate Sherry's thirtieth birthday party-another blog.)

It all reminds me of this song...

(except uncensored)

Happy Halloween!!! ¡¡¡¡mmmwwhhaaahaaahaaa!!!!


You Can Vote If You Want To

This video by thepoetryman is a finalist in a YouTube contest.

You can vote for the winning video here. The creator of the winning video is able to select a charity which will recieve a $25,000 donation.

I was a little confused about the voting initially. You can scroll through the videos and give a thumbs up to your selection. (And, just like presidential race voting, if you are for Bush in Ohio or Florida, you can vote multiple times., so do it!)

Go get to it while you are waiting to change your clocks back.



Change your clocks back today, as you have been trained to do all your life. THEY are just keeping us on our toes for when THEY implement the new CST.

That is the new Christmas Savings Time. Set your clocks forward at 8PM Christmas Eve, so the kids will sleep later and then set it back again at 11PM New Year's Eve... to build anticipation and improve the recently faltering New Year's Eve celebrations (and to increase drink sales.)

This message was brought to you by The Council of THOSE Who Wish to Improve the Ecomony by Clock Manipulation.

This message by TCTWWIECM should not be followed by a message from the Emergency Broadcast system.

If it was, proceed to the nearest shelter and watch TV all day.

Get your reminder clock for only $6,473.99


Who's Got Big Balls?

Benazir Bhutto's got the BIGGEST balls of them all!

Former Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto, daughter of former Premier Zulfikar Ali Bhutto has dared come out of her nine-year self-imposed exile to help restore democracy in Pakistan. Bhutto was the first female leader of a "post-colonial" Muslim state and has called for an investigation as to why her heavily guarded caravan hit a patch of road with lights out at the precise moment that two bombs aimed at her killed 136 people and injured 450 others on October 18th.

Let's compare statements of these two children of former world leaders who both are surrounded by rumors of corruption:

Bhutto is quoted as saying, "I find that whenever I am in power, or my father was in power, somehow good things happen. The economy picks up, we have good rains, water comes, people have crops. I think the reason this happens is that we want to give love and we receive love."

George Bush is quoted as saying, "See, in my line of work you got to keep repeating things over and over and over again for the truth to sink in, to kind of catapult the propaganda."

I'm just sayin'...

Big Balls?

Bhutto- YES

Bush- NO

*Note that the rest of my blog may be full of plaguarism, but the info in this article is from what I remember the NPR reporters to have said, Wikipedia and Bushisms (you know, credible sources.)


My Heart's Not In It Today

Today, I am the embodiment of internal conflict. I am going through the motions and even kinda paying attention from time to time, but I'm not into this, school, reponsibilities, forget anything resembling a chore. Not happening. I'm not sure how to descibe my feelings today, but there is an element of arousal from the fall air and cozy sweaters going on as well. Maybe this is the opposite of whatever you call what people get when they are frisky in the spring. It is similar in nature, but a moving from external to internal rather than the opposite. I have a feeling that the only way I can adequately express myself, short of humping some sensitive stranger that might happen to come into this classroom which is empty, but for the one woman also studying in here, is a poem. Maybe it's the new Radiohead album I'm listening to, but a nice sweatered androgynous, poetic sort of person really should convince me to skip Linear Algebra here in a few minutes and hold my hand while we walk over to some sweet creekside locale where we could do it and get dying grass in our pants. I'm waiting....

I guess a poem will have to suffice.

The cold earth
Supports my back,
Which is pressed
Between a rock
And your hardness,
But I am oblivious
To the discomfort,
Even of the possibility
That someone might pass
Near where we are
Silently breathing in
The cool air,
Transforming it
Into warmth
With our closeness.
Your partially clothed
Skin finds mine
Anticipating its touch,
All else until the
Darkness wakes me.
I find myself
Waiting, loathing
The space between
My present and
Future selves.
I erroneously imagine
It to be nonempty,
Or worse,
An illusion
Comparison seeks to
Perpetuate at the expense
Of my current happiness.


Let's Get It On!

I just like that title...

The Hermit's recent video was number one viewed last week with nearly 2 million views (so far.)

I started a facebook group: I want an Anti-War Rally at UT- Austin! Join up and down and all around!


Bee Meets D(Cup)

There are great hook ups and then there are great hook ups.........

Henry Miller and Anais Nin .....Jean Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir....Isaac Asimov and Janet Jeppson.....Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas....

Online, we can be whomever we choose. We can lay a foundation for a new persona, we can sculpt our bodies and polish our personalities. We can design one or more selves and be many amazing and interesting people, all at once.

Or we can be who we say we are. That's the better scenario if ever we decide to meet other selves who are created in cyberspace.

That was just the case this week in San Antonio. Two bloggers got a chance to meet. And how.

D: My take...
Freida Bee was nice enough to drive from Austin to San Antonio to hang out with me even though she had a test the next day. We started our visit by a walk through the Alamo. We were determined to take some fun and funny pictures to demonstrate what a fun afternoon we had. We ducked into the gift shop to see what kind of fun and funny stuff was available for purchase by the masses of tourists who pass through the Texas icon.

Did you know that every single person that I know who has toured the Alamo mentions how small it is? Did you also know that there is no picture taking allowed in the gift shop of the Alamo? Well, you know it now.

Bee and I were scoping out the ridiculous and memorable items to take pictures of.

Three men appeared to be doing the same thing. "I must have this....." said one of the men, holding up a wooden plaque with a laquered photo of the Alamo and a thermometer inlaid into the wood.

Bee and I laughed. She held up another of the plaques and I snapped a couple of pictures.

"Excuse me, m'am," said the very earnest-looking security guard. "No picture taking allowed."


Freida Bee was determined. She held up her cell phone smiling. "No flash."

In a very Breakfast at Tiffany's moment, we continued our quest for funny things to photograph.

This? That? The sheriff's badges with kids names? The toy guns? The Bowie knife? Finally, I donned the coon-skinned cap and Freida aimed and snapped this lovely photo of me....

Laughing, we only stopped to squash a couple of pennies for souvenirs for our kids and then dashed back out into the sunshine for a stroll down to the Riverwalk for lunch......the afternoon slipped by too quickly.

Bee: Then…
We headed to the riverwalk. It was a little awkward for me to be walking with "the DCup". I am a little less glamorous when I am not blue and in writing and found myself talking about, what seemed ridiculously mundane things, when we have read each others’ deepest thoughts in the blogosphere. When it comes down to it, I have never met anyone in person that I met online before. Several years ago my cousin met a man who owned a house down the street from hers and they even both worked in IT. They are married and have a child now, but this was new for me.

We ate at a Tex-Mex restaurant and I felt much more comfortable after we spoke for a while. I think the mariachi band really relaxed us and, in true blogger fashion, we got real with each other.

DCup did not mention that I was only able to stay in San Antonio a couple hours as I had to get my sons from school and had a test the next morning. I stupidly passed up the opportunity to accompany D to the gala event where she would be wearing that black dress we all know and love, where I could have stood up to that Ann Coulter bitch fearlessly because no one there knew me, but I studied instead.

Fortunately, we established that the next evening would be a fine time for us to meet back up, so we left it that, as soon as I ditched my family, who had planned to meet my in-laws one hour north of Austin to go away for the weekend, I would drive back to San Antonio on Friday, and so I did.

Disembodied voice's take:
Bee got back to San Antonio late and met D at CLO, a hotspot club at the corner of Navarro and Commerce. The place was crawling with people from D's organization so D introduced Bee to the coolest of the bunch, then they hit the dance floor. Occasionally, D would drag Bee back to the smoking section which was a bricked hallway. The best thing about the smoker's section was the eyecandy. But even that can't hold the attention of our intrepid girl bloggers for long. There was more fun to be had.

The party moved down the street to Beers and Steers or Steers and Beers, a karaoke bar. Bee and D marveled at what were some pretty good singers and danced some more.....

As it got later, it appeared that there would be little sleep, maybe a two, three hours, tops. D had an early flight and Bee had to be back in Austin for work at 8am.

Back to D's hotel room to try to catch some z's before the adventure came to an end.

Looking at the picture, I'd say, there was more adventure, less sleep......


If No One Has Done This For You, Let Me Turn You On...

to Sean Bedlam!

I'll have to link him after I leave my job where YouTube is blocked now.


Happy Birthday, Monkey Boy!

I baked you a cake.

Someone left the cake out in the rain.

I don't think that I can take it.

'Cause it took so long to bake it.

And I'll never have that recipe again.

I hope this next year finds you as curious as ever!


Can Hillary Be Man Of The Year With Colbert In The Race?

It looks like there will be a new contender in the already tight race for the presidency. Stephen Colbert announced his presidential campaign has begun. I suppose since he did not earn the Nobel Peace Prize, he's going for Man of the Year. For the second time this week I thought to post a Stephen Colbert video and then looked to see that Manila Rice had already posted it on his blog. So this time, since he posted Colbert's announcement (go check it out), I am posting Colbert discussing Jackass instead.

George W...

Kiss My Grits!


"Things Are A Lot Worse Than We Thought." -Nader

I don't think he knew what I was thinking very well, because I wasn't thinking anything good was going on here at all. Were you?


I'm Going to Have to...

Change this to a blog about complaining about school if I don't stop doing that. I have a political video I'll post later.

For now, I am going to go pull a Dr. Monkey Child Star stunt, just to make it through the rest of work!


I Amuse Myself, At Least

If I had any guts right now I would be taking pictures of the other riders of the shuttle bus I am on, because someone farted it seems and everyone has the same look on his or her face, like since “I am paying heed to this deed, but I did not do it and then act oblivious,” but of course no one will say anything. Maybe they’ll think that since I am kinda laughing to myself, that I did it, but that just makes me laugh more. And it’s Friday and that is another week down of school, ‘cause I’m seriously counting now. Well, actually, I count how many it’s been, but do not compare it to how many are left. I just know that we passed the halfway point, at least in my mind. I am the worst math major ever.

Instead I am going to write a poem:

Particularly frank participators
Like to rouse suspicions
And inhibitions
In order to shatter them
Until their own comfy
Nooks and crannies
Are poked and prodded,
Even if playfully.
Then they complain
That it tickles and they
Wiggle and squirm
And run to their rooms
And write blogs.

And by “particularly frank,” I mean
“Selectively frank”
And by “rouse,” I mean
And by “inhibitions,” I mean
“Major hang-ups”
And by “shatter,” I mean
And by “comfy,” I mean
And by “nooks and crannies,” I mean
“Fat ass”
And by “poked and prodded,” I don’t mean
And by “playfully,” I mean
“During a commercial.”
And by “complain,” I really mean
And by “tickles,” I mean
“Wakes me up”
And by “wiggle and squirm,” I mean
“Don’t care”
And by “run,” I mean
And by “they,” I mean
And by “blogs,” I mean


This selectively frank participator
Likes to mention suspicions
And major hang-ups
In order to tolerate them
Until her own lazy
Fat ass
Is not fucked,
Even during a commercial.
Then I complain
That it wakes me up and
I don’t care
And saunter to my room
And write this.


Math Humor, Part IV

I felt like this just yesterday, but I prefer banging my head against the wall.

(Click on the image to enlarge, but it won't help anything.)


Seven (More) Things

Mathman tagged me and I thank him, but ask, "Have I not bared enough of myself here?" (Methinks the lady doth protesteth too mucheth and is flattered nonethelesseth.) I've taken this opportunity to include a few things that have never come up here on the Freida Bee Show (OK, you've likely gotten the gleanings of #1 and # 4):

1. I am annoyingly honest.

2. My favorite color is brown.

3. A moan of mine was part of a radio ad in 1990.

4. My last drink of alcohol was on May 23, 2000.

5. I may or may not have had sex on the River Walk in San Antonio.

6. The only known (self-diagnosed) mental disorder I have (to my knowledge, besides those relating to #4- SHUT UP!) is the obsessive-compulsive need to pee as the last thing I do before I go to sleep. (Sexy!)

7. I'm not sure what they did to me to cause #6, but I must blame something. However, I will set the record straight that, as a child, my parents never forced me to eat fluffer-nutter sandwiches in exactly 23 bites as I previously stated in my own blog comments (See #1).

Now, I tag these 7 bloggerific people:

Angry Ballerina


Dr. Zaius

¡Mr. Splotchy!


Germaine Gregarious

Dr. Frank Muckenstein

Please feel free to leave some of YOUR things here in the comments.


The Freida Bee Diaries: The Real Feelings of a Fake Woman

Dear Diary,

Today, I am a work, as usual, on a Saturday, which sucks ass. (I think this is Angry Ballerina's blog genre I'm stepping into, here.) At least you're here with me. Last week they blocked employee access to YouTube and I heard rumors that they are about to do do the same about MySpace, to which I must confess, I am a Wal-Mart slut of sorts. I wish this blog notified me of when I get new comments like my MySpace one does, but here I am hidden from my kids and even my husband (who is interwebophobic unless there is a gun that reacts to a mouse clicking.) I've told him that if he wants to know how I'm feeling, he can read my blog, but am (not so) secretly glad he doesn't.

At least I get to blog while I am at work. I will confess this one time that my job entails an authoritative uniform under an ESD smock and the patrolling of a facility to insure fire and flooding is not occurring while no one else is (often) on site. My reliability over the past two+ years is compensated with ample space to blog and write and, supposedly, study with the occasional signing for a package in between. Only once has someone rushed up to me with blood flowing from the eye area, so I sacrifice my weekends while I am in school, which will last until Dec. 08. That and this is depressing, I admit. It almost makes me lament my Freshmanic skipping tendencies of yore.

I remember that day my dad brought me to the dorm where I was to reside while I went to college at UT after only having defied my parents' wishes that I come home every night once. That incident earned me a grounding that lasted up until that day my dad dropped me off a week before classes started because I was going to rush a sorority. I didn't mind his awkward leaving (I knew he had a long drive back to Arkansas) because I had been (thinking I was) hiding smoking cigarettes from my parents up to that point and was ready for a smoke.

The first decision I made, in my new-found independence, that day was to blow off that sorority meeting. Maybe I would have gotten into one by virtue of my grandmother's activities there or maybe they would have seen me as the uncultured Arkansas hillbilly who was just good enough at math on her SAT to get in on out-of-state standards to the huge university that I was.

I ended up changing rooms, as I maintained that I had said I smoked on the roommate questionaire (but hadn't) and they switched me to a room with three sorority girls. That lasted a few months. My Jewish roommate told the RA that she couln't hang with my non-Kosherness. I didn't even know what that was and she didn't bother to tell me. (A year later I was to become a vegetarian for the next five years.) Her room change request, coincidentally, followed a weekend during which my roommates were all out of town at a big game and I threw a party involving flaming Dr. Peppers in my dorm room and woke up with blood on the floor and had to walk with a huge gash in my chin (I knew because I looked in the mirror and saw my chin bone and deduced that I had fallen going to the bathroom and cut it on the open cabinet door) to the Health Center. That did a lot for my self-esteem, to have a huge bandage on my chin for the next month.

My next roommate and I were a great fit. She never went to class herself and had a car. I had made the mistake of signing up for Latin at 8 AM and never going to Calculus II and never knew until many years later what a syllabus was. (No one had ever told me what one was and this was before the days of the internet.) Fortunately, my second semester I got a little smarter and signed up for a Poetry class at 3 PM. That was my only A during those first two semesters and really the only class I attended with any regularity. It helped that I had a crush on a guy in the class, but I never spoke to him once.

My next door neighbor in my new dorm room was named Christos. Christos and I hit it off marvelously. He was from Cyprus (See what country I am in former post. coincidence? I think not.) and was gay. I also had no idea what that was either. It didn't sink in at all until I went to a gay bar with him and, OH MY GOD, saw men kissing men and women kissing women. It was as mindblowing to me as when I did 3 hits of acid the first time I did it a year later. Really. A couple weekends later I was macking out with a lady who unfortunately already had a girlfriend I later found out. That sucked because I really liked macking out with her. And I loved hanging out with Angie who was gay, but never really put two and two together and kept screwing around with guys (which is lovely, yes.)

Christos and I were not long for university life. He was in the intensive English program and had the help of me who told him that this (pointing to my elbow) was called a "cunt". It took a few days for him to come smack me in the arm for that one. But, we enjoyed each other's company. I would sleep (really sleep) in his bed with him and he said that one night he woke up and we were kissing in our sleep (which I don't remember- I am a blackout drinker who is off the sauce and will talk in my sleep from time to time. I have encouraged my husband to have his way with me in the night, but I don't think he takes advantage of that offer. Darn.) Christos told me I kissed like a man, which I took as a compliment since he liked kissing men. I can neither confirm, nor deny his claim, nor can I identify a huge difference myself, besides facial hair. He also claimed he had a genuinely gay dog back in Cyprus and that when he was in his term of required service in the Cypriot army that he had mastered the art of sleeping with eyes open while standing.

And so, dear diary, I am doing this college thing now, nearly twenty years later. At least I know what syllabi are and I attend class. Those things have gotten me through thus farly and I needed to remind myself that studying when it's the last thing in the world I want to do, is worth it.

Gotta go, time to make the donuts.

Flaming Dr Pepper Recipe

Don't use this!

Mixed drink
May be served flaming

Primary alcohol by volume:
High-proof alcohol

"Straight up"; without ice

Standard drinkware:
A pub glass and a shot glass.

Commonly used ingredients:
3 parts Amaretto
1 part Bacardi 151
1 pint (~13 parts) beer

Preparation: Layer the two spirits in the shot glass, with the 151 on top. Light the shot and allow to burn, then extinguish by dropping it into the beer glass.

Drink immediately!


I'll Be on BlogTalkRadio in 45 Minutes! Crap!

The World Wide Word Radio Network Presents

This Thursday on The Moe Green Poetry Hour

To listen to show click below

(The show is archived and you can listen over and over again.)

Call in number (718) 508-9717

Thursday October 4 at 7 pm Pacific time, 10 PM eastern

Join Moe Green (AKA) Rafael F J Alvarado and his lovely cohost Jane Crown as they listen to the poetry of...

Open Reader

Freida Bee. (That's me)


Kate Hall
Noni Limar
F.D Reeve

Freida Bee is the literary editor for the webzine No Cure For That, a student at The University of Texas and mother of four living just outside of Austin, TX. She has written for a few homegrown zines, a gardening newsletter, and was one of the original co-hosts of the Radical Mother’s Voice Program on KOOP radio in Austin. Though she has written in some capacity most of her life, her writing has become more frequent and formalized since first submitting Lit 101 items to new zine No Cure For That last spring. She also moonlights as a liberal blogger under the name Freida Bee.

She is always seeking new poems and short stories for No Cure For That at nocureforthat.com. No Cure for That produces The Hermit with Davis Fleetwood and your submissions can be sent to nocureforthat@mac.com or cwar.ncft@yahoo.com.

Kate Hall is a former poetry editor of Stirring: A
Literary Collection. Her poetry and stories have
appeared in such journals as Antioch Review, In Posse,
Mudlark, Big Bridge, Disquieting Muses, Poetry
Magazine, The 2River View, Perihelion, Mississippi
Review, Zuzu's Petals Quarterly, Mr. Beller's
Neighborhood and Rattle. She was awarded the Robert
Frost Poetry Prize by Kenyon College, where she
graduated Magna Cum Laude. She also holds a J.D. from
the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.

Noni Limar
A performer who can rhyme as well as sing, writing with as much passion as she performs, Noni Limar is force to be reckoned with. Where Lauryn Hill meets Nina Simone, her live performances are unparalleled. Utilizing her fearless skills as an Emcee to engage, educate and entertain a crowd, she is a popular performer in the Los Angeles music and poetry scene. With 23 years of experience performing in front of audiences as small as 10 to as large as 10,000, her poetry and song move seamlessly between the political and the social. With a gift for framing everyday struggles in a young urban paradigm, audiences leave with a sense of understanding, connection, and hope. A native of Los Angeles, she attended UCLA where she studied Theater and African- American Studies. She began working as an educator and workshop facilitator, doing diversity work with youth for over 7 years. She is trained as a conflict resolution specialist and has been commissioned to integrate the social and artistic in schools, non-profits, colleges and universities.

As a performer, she has been invited to New York's Lincoln Center, Lollapalooza Music Festival, The World Famous Apollo Theater, The Temple Bar, Viper Room, Anaheim Convention Center, Highways Performance Space, The Conga Room, Cali (IE) Hip-Hop Theater Festival, The Freud Playhouse and The Grahamstown International Arts Festival in Johannesburg, South Africa. A member of the Latino Theater Company, she worked extensively at the Los Angeles Theater Center for over two years. She served as Artistic Director of Equal Opportunity Productions, The 11th Hour Theater Company and Colors of the Diaspora. She was the subject of the international documentary, I am Woman, and has shared the stage with many artists including Kanye West, Saul Williams, Suheir Hammad, Mos Def, KRS One, Common and Talib Kweli. Currently, she is touring as a member of the live hip-hop band, Fresh City.

Poet, novelist, and critic, F. D. Reeve has had a varied career. After acting in summer theater, harvesting wheat in the Midwest and working as a longshoreman on the Hudson River docks, he became a Russian scholar and spent a year on an exchange with the USSR Academy. In the years that followed, Reeve published poetry, fiction, and literary criticism in journals across the country, reviewed for the New York Times and the Washington Post, and served as a professor of letters at Wesleyan University, often traveling to England and Europe, including Russia, for research and for presentations of his work.

Thirty years ago he moved to Vermont, where he built his own house, before settling in an old farmhouse in Wilmington. He is married to the novelist and Marlboro College professor Laura C. Stevenson.

Reeve’s two dozen books include the poems In the Silent Stones, The Blue Cat, Nightway, Concrete Music, The Moon and Other Failures, and The Urban Stampede and Other Poems, the novels The Red Machines, Just Over the Border, The Brother, White Colors, and My Sister Life, two volumes of short stories about the docker world A Few Rounds of Old Maid and North River, three works of literary criticism—Aleksandr Blok: Between Image and Idea, The Russian Novel, and The White Monk: an Essay on Dostoevsky and Melville—and Robert Frost in Russia. “Alcyone” and “The Urban Stampede,” long poems designed for musical accompaniment in concert performance, were premiered at London’s Barbican. Eric Chasalow wrote music for The Puzzle Master about Daedalus and his high-flying son Icarus premiered at Brandeis in May 2007 as part of the Boston Cyberarts Festival. The spunky, sassy The Return of the Blue Cat came out in April 2005 and led to many performances by poet and improv trio Exit 59 in venues from New York to Boston. Reeve’s translations from Russian began with a volume of Turgenev’s short novels, include the two-volume Anthology of Russian Plays and poet Bella Akhmadulina’s The Garden, and Anatoly Naiman’s Lions and Acrobats. Next spring will see his new translation of Leonid Andreyev’s haunting A Story About Seven Who Were Hanged. September 2007 marked the appearance of The Toy Soldier, a book of new poems, and in August publication of a lively sequel of Cat-&-jazz poems, The Blue Cat Walks the Earth, meant to be read and listened to (already in public performance), accompanied by a CD of Reeve reading the poems and Joe Deleault and Don Davis playing their improv music.

Reeve’s writing has won him Ingram Merrill, ACLS, and Ford Foundation grants, the Tate and Sarton Awards, an American Academy of Arts and Letters Award in Literature, the New England Poetry Society’s Golden Rose, and a Lit. D. from New England College.


Math (Well, Physics) Humor, Part II

I couldn't make these up if I tried. Clearly there is some real talent in these students. They have the makings of excellent bloggers...

(Click to enlarge.)

Now, get back to work.