Hi, I'm omo trash :)

It’s been a hot minute since I had anything to say that exceeded 140 characters.  That’s a fancy way of saying that I pretty much exclusively use Twitter these days, because Tumblr is a fucking ghost town.  I find it amusing that I used to adjust individual bodily injury claims that cost more than Tumblr did in the end.  How’d that high morality work out for you there, huh?  Dicks.

Anyway.  I have something to say today.

I like to read.  I read exclusively mystery novels.  It’s a lifelong special interest, as is criminal justice in general, that I’m quite sure will never leave me.  Most times, I prefer mystery series in which I can get to know the characters involved and follow their crime-fighting exploits.  But sometimes, there will be a mystery-filled “chick-lit” type book that I’ll pick up (think Gone Girl, etc).  

I read Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty a while back and adored it.  I read the entire thing overnight and wasn’t even tired in the morning, it was that good.  I decided to pick up another book of hers at the library last week, The Husband’s Secret.

Within the first fifty pages, I came across something that nearly made me put the book down for good, despite such curiosity as to what the fuck the husband’s secret was.

One of the main characters had a friend that caught her husband masturbating in the shower, told her little circle of girlfriends, and they were all lowkey horrified.  

UHM.  NO.

Excuse me.  This is two thousand-fucking-nineteen.  EVERYONE MASTURBATES, MMKAY?  

This implication that it is a shameful act to be discussed amongst giggles over tea and cookies is abhorrent.  The main character has already had two asides about how she can’t look at her friend’s husband without thinking about what her friend told her about the shower.  Jesus fuck.  

This is the kind of shit we’re perpetuating in mainstream female-targeted literature?  Irresponsible, if you ask me.  

There are women out there delusional enough to consider masturbation cheating.  That’s some fucking bullshit if I’ve ever heard it.  And it really bothered me to see it portrayed as unnatural and something to be hidden away.  

Liane Moriarty, setting human sexuality back to the Victorian era single-handedly.  I’m not amused.

Oh, no big deal.  I just sang on stage with Hugh Jackman tonight.  What an absolute sweetheart he is!  Fucking surreal to sing in the same arena where some of the biggest acts in music have performed.  

Also, there were 50 of us selected to be part of this chorus.  Lots of nervous ladies...itty bitty bathroom space.  I was in absolute heaven hearing “I need to pee” ring out across the dressing room every five minutes.  

I also had the most delightful discussion with my cute friend who informed me that when she needs to pee, she cannot keep it to herself, like she’s overly squirmy.  So, naturally, I suggested we exchange numbers.  I feel like I need to invite her to the movies or something and just see what happens.