Before I get to today’s post, don’t forget about yesterday’s contest. All you need to do is pick out the seven pop culture references I mention. The contest doesn’t end until tonight at midnight, so you still have a chance of winning an iPod Shuffle!
A little more than a month ago, Neil over at Citizen of the Month started The Great Interview Experiment. Essentially, each commenter interviewed the person before him or her and was subsequently interviewed by the commenter following. It’s been a huge success, with only a few people neglecting their interviewing duties.
Unfortunately, Feral Mom was one of those poor neglected souls. Neil was looking for people to step in and interview those who were left hanging, so voila! She’s funny, dirty-minded, and a new favorite read. So check out our interview, then go check our her site!
Avitable: Before I interview a blogger or review their blog, I always go to their archives and start with their very first post. It’s a good way to see how the blog has evolved. Since January 26, 2005, over three years ago, how do you think your blog has evolved and has it been for the better or worse?
Feral Mom: When I first started writing Gone Feral, I’d intended it to be the sordid chronicle of my deteriorating hygiene and decreasing ability to maintain normal social interactions as a stay-at-home mother of twin infants. Anyone who knows me well, however, knows that my hygiene has always been on the lax side and that I can usually find some excuse to gibber to myself quietly in the corner. Twin infants were just the icing on an already very sloppy, social anxiety-ridden cake. Shirts splotched with sour milk from my leaky jahoobies? The source of that persistent “magic marker” smell a rotting banana peel under the Lazy Boy? The highlight of my day being giving the Diaper Genie a fisting it would never forget? Squalid, oh yes, but bring it on, I thought. So stay at home motherhood was, in a way, a convenient cover for my already feral, disgusting tendencies. And Gone Feral gave me a venue to make shit jokes without even leaving the house.
After a while I discovered that there are only so many jokes (and lists) to be made about poop, butts, pubes, farts, and jahoobies. Oh, I’ve got more, but I’ve realized I need to hold some in reserve for the long haul. So I began to write about other things—my fraught relationship with my mother-in-law, whom I’ve come to love over the past three years. My return to academia, where I put on clothes to go to class, but remained naked, feral, and farting underneath. Eventually, I even began revisiting episodes from my past, like Catholic school, batshit crazy landlords, traumatic conference papers, tales from the front of a middle school library and other more serious fodder. I still try to write about turds—and believe me, they come up a lot in my life—but I also find that there’s plenty of other material out there. So the content of the blog has expanded quite a bit. I also don’t ALWAYS go for the immature, Beavis and Butthead innuendo anymore. If I want to try for a different tone or mood, I can usually go there without fearing that readers are going to be disappointed in me, or something.
Speaking of readers, they’re the other change. When I started Gone Feral, I had just a handful of friends reading—and they were all, I should note, very supportive, leaving me comments so that I wouldn’t be left hanging out there alone on the internets. Three of them even ended up starting their own blogs—excellent ones, I might add. But then I starting getting some visits from people I didn’t know, one link led to another, a few kind, more popular souls took me under their bloggy wings, and I found, quite unexpectedly, a community. The best part about blogging, other than the way it has of transforming trauma and tedium into material (and thereby making it bearable) is the connections (and sometimes, friendships) you make with total
strangers. I never imagined when I started Gone Feral that it would not only save my sanity, but help my shy ass make friends with other shy asses—foul mouthed, irreverent people who can hold their liquor AND write the hell out of a blog. I’m lucky to have found a corner of the blogosphere with so many generous, funny, and talented people.
Avitable: As I read, one word I keeping coming across (figuratively) is “tits”. You clearly are a huge fan of jahoobies – what are the traits you look for in a set of bazongas, and who, among the celebrity world, has the nicest sweater puppies?
Feral Mom: I love boobies, I do. But I am quite catholic in my appreciation of them. (That’s “small c catholic” though tits on a pope are also awesome…and hilarious!) Small ones, big ones, saggy ones, perky ones? I like ’em all. Hell, I even like old man tits, that’s how much I love jahoobies. That being said, I find myself in the celebrity boob realm most distracted by the tits on Lost. The entire cast has outstanding racks, including Hurley. Plus, they’re all in undershirts or shirtless most of the time. If I had to pick one favorite celebrity boob shot, hough, it’s Drew Barrymore in this photo. Sweater puppies unleashed!
Avitable: You recently moved to Los Angeles, one of my favorite places to live in the world. First, have you been to Pink’s? Fatburger? Second, have you used Pink Dot to order emergency supplies delivered to your home? Finally, have you noticed how everything clears up and gets beautiful as you cross over from LA County to Orange County?
Feral Mom: No, no, no, and no. I clearly need to get out more. When did you live in Los Angeles? What other recommendations do you have for a feral person in SoCal?
Avitable: I lived in Los Angeles from 2001 until 2004. For restaurants, I recommend The Engine Company and The Pacific Car Company (downtown) and Duke’s (Huntington Beach). I also recommend buying a Thomas Guide – makes everything much easier. And Zagat’s. Did you get the dentist recommendation I made on your blog? He’s a good one for feral teeth.
Avitable: Staying with the Los Angeles theme, here. What are your favorite aspects of LA so far? Your least favorite?
Feral Mom: I enjoy living in L.A. far more than I ever imagined I would. The weather, needless to say is outstanding. While I used to fancy myself a tough Midwestern broad weather-wise, truth be told, I spent a lot of time whilst living there bitching about the cold and the snow. No more. I also enjoy the year-round farmer’s markets, especially the outstanding citrus. Oranges have become very very important to me, as have avocados. Hands off my fresh produce!
I have a love/hate relationship with being on the western edge of the country. I love the feeling that I’ve escaped my old life for a while; that, while I’m reachable by car or plane, someone would have to put serious effort into coming to find me. Not that I’m hiding from anyone, you understand…but I do have a tendency to get restless when I’ve been in the same place, around the same people, too long. Living in Los Angeles seems like an escape—in a good way.
However, I HATE the fact that, by the time the kids are asleep, it’s too late to call or chat online with my East Coast and Midwestern peeps. I also hate that sense of removal from old communities, particularly this first winter we’ve spent in L.A. Not that I WANT to be back in the Heartland experiencing some of the worst weather on record, but I know that all my Midwestern friends and family will share a reference point (and a bond) for years to come that won’t include me. While they were finding creative ways to stay warm and remove snow, I was eating oranges while the ocean gently lapped my hairy toes. I know, I know. Cry you a river.
And speaking of hairy toes, my least favorite thing about L.A. is being called “sir” even when I’m wearing a Christless skirt. OK, not really…that’s material. My absolute least favorite aspect of L.A. is the fact that buying a house, hell, renting a house, is some kind of Impossible Dream. You know, a yard would be nice. It’s also that apartment living entails rubbing elbows with neighbors, and we have a sordid history with neighbors. I would like to be done with neighbors forever. Alas, it ain’t gonna happen here.
Avitable: Here’s a fill-in-the-blank for you: I’d rather fuck a _____ than eat a ______ .
Feral Mom: I’d rather fuck a leprechaun than eat a monkey.
I ate monkey once by accident in a Peruvian jungle and it was…distressing. As for leprechauns…those saucy wee people can’t help themselves. Fuck them! They’re Irish.
Thanks for interviewing me, Avitable! I’m grateful.