Caterwauling

I got served some Joe Alwyn content where he looked hot.

Then someone said he was Taylor’s true muse.

For better or worse, he inspired part or all of 5-7 albums.

Fair.

The poster didn’t like Travis, though. Probably a Gaylor Swiftie.

I don’t disagree that Joe was her greatest muse.

But we don’t always marry our muses.

And I’m not talking about me.

But hey, maybe he writes science fiction to escape the life he did choose.

So, sure, he got his muse. Let’s go with that.

In any event, that is not my problem, is it now?

As for the other sick fuck in my spam, I deleted your message unopened.

Cindy says you’re a hater. I would say abuser but she knows everything about me. Maybe you two can duke it out for who has wasted more of my time.

Welp, I was right about hot takes about Taylor Swift’s album were on BlueSky.

So as of today, I have now deleted my BlueSky account.

It joins the trash pile of every other social platform where I could read insults about me.

Now I truly cannot and WILL NOT see those.

What did it for me?

HER somehow thinking SHE is the protagonist in “Actually Romantic” — if I laughed any harder, I’d choke up the pumpkin muffin I had for lunch.

May you continue to get what you put out into the world. And if you don’t want that to be delusions, lies and condescension, only you can fix that.

Like Taylor sang on the last album, there wouldn’t be this if there hadn’t been you.

I’ll keep putting love and light into the world. Kind of like canceling out a tRumper’s vote, but karmically.

Made the mistake of scrolling through some hot takes of “The Life of a Showgirl.”

Given that I actually pay to publish my own hot takes, I’m going to do that!

One, the CD jacket. The songs are arranged in the shape of The Eras Tour stage. Genius.

Two, it’s so Millennial coded. We looked fire. Keep it 100. Etc. This is our yearbook for 2025 with all the sayings she immortalized.

Three, when we heard Max & Shellback came back to work on this one, half of Swiftiedom lamented that. Bitches, they gave us Red and Reputation — you don’t get to claim you’re a “Rep girlie” if you complain. That said, I remain a Red/Rep girlie. No skips, all good.

Four, Taylor and I have always gone through our life stages together. Every album was a mirror to my life. There are some serious, serious parallels in Showgirl to my own life. Though I wish there were more, like a man who’s breaking my back every night with his “hard rock.”

Five, the tracks:

The Fate of Ophelia — I’ll comment on the video, since the Showgirl Release Party focused on showing us the video, then the making of it, then the video again. Genius. Also, Tay got all her dancers and backup singers together on it. Was it shot during the tour? Or did she say let me get my people back together? Either way, dance captain Amanda Balen was always Mom’s favorite and she remains mine too.

Elizabeth Taylor — Gram used to wear her perfumes. She loved Passion, the violet one. And Gram bought me White Diamonds at a young age, so I’d grow up to appreciate fine fragrances. No wonder my average perfume bottle costs $350.

The song became an early favorite for me. “You’re only as hot as your last hit, baby.”

I haven’t figured out the direct connection to Liz yet other than “I’d cry my eyes violet.” But it will come.

Opalite — This is my overall favorite. I have plenty of opalite in the house. And this feels like a personal anthem.

I relate to “You were dancing through the lightning strikes.” I take it to mean that through all the failed “Ships” (relation and friend), she remained true to herself and what she wanted. And that she never gave up hope on finding it, because she knew what she was looking for all along.

Father Figure — I feel a way about this because I thought there would be more of a direct connection to George Michael. Not one lyric, not one sample, nothing.

That said, I see her coming to terms with the Scott Borchetta of it all. Scooter Braun is a cad. We know that. But the line about taking care of the family made me think family friend Borchetta said that.

Also the girl boss of it all — SHE is the father figure. And she sees herself through Borchetta’s eyes. Maybe as someone ungrateful and angry. Like, he protected her till he didn’t.

Some say this is her passing the torch to the Sabrinas and the Gracies. I don’t see her passing any torch. She’s keeping it. And drinking that brown liquor.

Eldest Daughter — I feel a way about this too. Track 5 is always “my” song. But it’s no, say, “Dress” or “All Too Well.” But … that’s not a bad thing.

It has grown on me because it’s all about how we hide what we like/want/need so people don’t fuck that up for us. And we hide our joy at “Ferris wheels, kisses, and lilacs” because others will find it uncool.

This is where she’s starting to say hey, I will always take care of you (parents, fans) but I also really kinda want to be married too. And if you find that uncool, well, that’s no longer my problem.

Ruin the Friendship — This was so lovely. She brought back Abigail! And name-dropped 50 Cent!

I love the recurring theme that there was no invitation. No invitation to kiss him, no invitation to his funeral. The one time she acted on her feelings, it was to fly home to his gravesite, rather than to see if there was something real when they had the chance.

“And my advice is to always answer the question / Better that than to ask it all your life.”

It explains my 40s. All those years we didn’t fuck up our friendships. Until we did.

And you know what? We lived.

We lived in the sense of having the time of our lives … and we lived through it, even if we walked away wounded.

Actually Romantic — I imagine there’s some hot take about this song on a BlueSky right now.

I love this one.

And not because I have this single white female type who’s obsessed with me.

I’ve long asked the question, why the obsession with me? Six years of running commentary (and some imagined scenarios on her part) about me is beyond weird.

But when I dare type how fascinating it is that a female would pay such rapt attention to me … her response reminds me of the DL-LGBTQs who crash Grindr every time the GOP gets together.

Taylor puts it more elegantly than I did, that “No man has ever loved me like you do.”

Sorry (not sorry), Charli.

I mean, my Charli is clearly concerned for my health.

Have I gotten a covid booster. Am I wearing a mask out to protect myself and others. I didn’t realize that when I read the screeching. I just assumed she wanted me to walk home from Vegas and sit shiva at home.

Now I see, she just loves me like no else did.

Wi$h Li$t — This is Eldest Daughter Part 2. Like you want things and I hope you get them all. But I want my man and my privacy. And goddamn it, I got it!

My favorite line was an ode to Kylie Kelce — “Have a couple kids / got the whole block looking like you.”

Kylie’s genes stayed home when those kids were made. Same with Mama Kelce. Might a Swift kid look anything like Mother? Not sure at this point!

And that she’s dreaming about a driveway with a basketball hoop — Kylie has all girls (four of them!) and I bet Tay goes on to have a couple boys. Which she alluded to in “Anti-Hero” that her daughter-in-law killed her for the money (“She thinks I left them in the will.”)

Tay is the manifestation QUEEN. So mote it be. I bet we get a surprise twin boy surrogate delivery within the next year.

Wood — Travis probably swaggered into work on Friday like the baddest bitch in the whole damn town.

Like yeah I’m marrying the most famous woman in the world, and she sang a whole song about my redwood-tree-sized cock.

Can I put having my own Travis Kelce on MY Wi$h Li$t?

Cancelled! — Oh girlie. The British spelling, really?

The trolls online say this is about that MAGA moron Britany Mahomes. No way.

“I like my friends cloaked in Gucci and in scandal” is all Blake. And “We’re the ones with matching scars” — Baldoni coded. for sure.

So many twits out there say she and Blake haven’t been together since the Baldoni shit began, so clearly Tay hates her.

Taylor dropped a whole fucking album and none of you idiots knew about it. She turns up at weddings and we don’t know till the pictures come out. Also haven’t none of yinz heard of FaceTime?

Taylor is the godmother to Blake’s four kids. I am sure she behaves like one.

Honey — This was my least favorite at first because of how hard it hit home.

Kelly’s awful roommate calls her “Babe.” And it just sets me on edge because it’s a term of endearment used as a weapon. Like Honey or sweetheart or darling or lovely.

Like Taylor points out, people say that shit to do everything to avoid paying them a sincere compliment.

“They were saying that skirt don’t fit me / And I cried the whole way home” hit me hard.

I was at Magic Kingdom last Christmas. In a very cute wintery outfit, with a red bow sweater and a red plaid Halara skort.

Well some well-meaning woman sidled up to me while I was taking a selfie and told me my underwear was showing.

That selfie.

“Lady to lady, I thought you’d want to know so you could fix it.”

Lady to lady has haunted me for 10 months.

Bitch, it’s a flouncy miniskirt with shorts attached.

And I got a bubble butt.

Mom always said we had “Bonga Butts.” I do not know what that means. But something that used to make me laugh now makes me so unhappy.

So BOY did I feel her that her “skirt didn’t fit right.” Says who? Some dumbass in Magic Kingdom?

Also I’ve gone to MK about 14 times since then. I have seen enough butt cheeks and ass crack on people from size zero to size 30. I am not saying I was gorgeous, but I am saying I was pretty well covered in comparison.

I imagine she really did mean well. Maybe she thought I was classier than most and that I’d appreciate it.

I didn’t. I still don’t. I like people like her Cancelled.

Extra L for losers.

The Life of a Showgirl (ft. Sabrina Carpenter) — I want to like Sabrina. I really do. But It’s hard and I don’t know why.

I think it’s because Sabrina showed up at NOLA Night 2 and my ticket was for NOLA Night 3.

Anyway the song is actual perfection, I grudgingly admit. Tay and Sab’s voices are perfect together as they tell Kitty’s story. The word lovely reappears here. But in a more sincere way.

The line that sticks with me here is when they both sing, “They leave showgirls for dead.”

Given all the hate online by MAGAs AND Swifties for the album and the Release Party, we really do leave them for dead.

The Life of a Showgirl is a perfect epilogue to The Eras Tour.

And unlike the MAGA Swiftiedom that’s waiting for TS13 to rip that apart too, I’m going to let our girl enjoy her getting a good deep dicking every night era … and maybe admit that I could use that too.

Got to attend the Taylor Swift listening party at the Delray iPic last night.

When I got there, a manager asked if I was the one who was unhappy about the just-ended show. I said no I’m just arriving but tell me more.

The girl who was unhappy was Alex, and we became fast friends.

She attended alone and was so pissed about all the kids who were screaming and being disruptive during her show.

Someone tried to explain that was encouraged. I said no, actually, children totally ruined The Eras Show for me and Mom. It’s one thing to sing and dance. It’s another to act like banshees.

I felt qualified to participate because said children were, in fact, terrorizing the entire lobby with their screaming and shrieking and running around.

Alex ended up with a free ticket to return today.

Too bad she didn’t take the 9 p.m. showing that I was there for. It was mellow as fuck and I LOVED IT.

Alex was funny. Not intentionally or actually. Just … she asked if I believe the whole Taylor-Travis relationship is real, because she doesn’t.

I’d said no, not at first. Taylor is a master marketer. And I remembered him being a dickhead on a dating show.

But now that I’ve sat through an entire song where she’s referring to his manhood as a “redwood tree,” I don’t need any more proof. It’s the real thing.

Well.

I never met one of those Gaylor Swifties live and in person before. But Alex is absolutely one of these wacko Redditors, even though she never copped to it.

She said she’s convinced it’s a lie and that the NFL is sponsoring this relationship. To give them both cover.

I said I would love to get your logic on that.

She said come to the 12:45 showing and we can chat some more.

My morning from hell ended right around 11:30 before my afternoon from hell began around 2.

Somewhere in the middle — the good part of the day — I thought about going back to Delray.

And then I laughed and was thankful that my three New Orleans Swiftie besties are normal human beings.

The NFL is sponsoring this relationship, really.

I’m also staying out of the comment sections in general. The people who hate Miss Swift the most have listened to the album more closely than I have.

And I sat in a theater with the lyrics in 120 point font so we could immerse themselves in them.

If there’s one thing I don’t need, it’s more unnecessary people’s unnecessary hot takes on the album I’ve waited two months for.

My review is simple: No skips. Another Max & Shellback masterpiece.

And the listening party was fun. It’s no Eras Tour Movie, and that’s fine. This one was a love letter to the real ones.

Had the best dream last night.

I was in a room with my mom, Grampy and Kadie.

None of it made any sense. There was grass growing through a rug, and mom made it disappear when I said that’s weird.

I feel like I didn’t pay enough attention to any of them, because there was so much weirdness in the dream.

But it wasn’t lost on me how cool it was to be with all of them again.

Not for nothing but I just made some bomb ass autumn chili and jalapeño cornbread.

The recipe needs work. But for memory’s sake…

Pound of ground turkey, seasoned heavily with salt, pepper and poultry seasoning

Stewed tomatoes with hatch chiles

An extra can of hatch chiles

Cannelini beans

Can of pumpkin

Yellow corn

Black beans (I think? I don’t remember)

S&P (not Standard & Poor’s)

Cream of tartar

Pumpkin pie spice

Ginger

Red bell pepper seasoning (I should have cut up the peppers in the fridge for bite/texture)

I think that’s it. Fry up the meat. Dump it all in a stock pot. Voila.

I had a bowl with yellow corn tortilla chips and some Cholula cheese from Sargento. Very good but the beans needed some more time to steam.

Had another bowl two hours later with warm jalapeño cornbread. (Make cornbread. Add jalapeños and cheddar.)

Perfection.

And you know you’re living single if you can shove a whole freaking pot in the fridge and have plenty of room to spare.

Called my freelancer at the crack o’ me this morning. As one does.

He had sent the file I needed on Friday. But it never arrived.

So he resent it this morning. And of course we got to talking about everything but.

He’s 57 and single. I’m 51 and single. And we had some fun moments comparing stories over coffee today.

A comedian recently did a bit that said it’s not that being single is hard. It’s dating.

Both of us are filled with wanderlust. Owned by pets. Financial analysts. Writers. Traders. People with insatiable appetites for wine, good food and other pleasures.

We got to talking about how he’s saved so much money from not dating, he’s doing a trip to Europe.

I got to saying my travel buddy can’t make it to my upcoming trip to (X) and (Y).

So I said fuck it, added a day at the beginning and end, and I’m shoving two days at Z in the middle. Because I can.

Like sure, we both agreed it would be nice to have someone along. Someone to make decisions with. But, not necessary at this point.

The thing with both of us is that we want to leave our current places. But neither of us knows where to go. And we almost need someone to give us direction.

He’s going through the ailing parent thing. Which I am not about to touch with a 10-foot pole, for any man.

As T&T said to me recently (no not Taylor and Travis, but close), they respect me knowing that boundary and not negotiating it.

Taking care of my Momma and doing All the Stuff was hard but worth it. Because it was my Momma.

But I do not want to care for some guy’s parents that way. Even if the care is simply just Caring and not doing all the Stuff. Dealbreaker.

He was telling me about dating among his big friend group there. Which he may or may not leave behind once the parental stage has come to its natural end.

And I told him about some ghosts who follow me around.

Not in the good Momma ghost way.

But the way in which, if you aren’t careful who you give your energy to, they could become a poltergeist.

He’s like yeah, single life all the way.

In any event, Taylor Swift’s new album comes out Friday and I have a ticket to (theater name) to listen to it with all my new Swiftie besties.

One of the songs is “Ruin the Friendship.”

Some Swifties speculate that it’s about Blake Lively because unfortunately there’s a subset of our fandom that votes red and therefore has no fucking clue about women supporting women. (That’s the mother of Taylor’s four god-children, you nuts.)

In any event, I don’t know what it’s about. But I’m of the attitude that friendships are worth “ruining” for the relationship. It’s either going to deepen it or end it.

And for me, I’d rather know sooner.

I waited all weekend for one of my freelancers to send a file.

It never arrived. And yes, I checked my spam.

I did find a sweet surprise in my spam though. Micah! I am so glad you said hello. We DC Bloggers are the best humans. Sending love right back to you!

So I said fuck it and had my Saturday pool/Ross day. Where I had all those signs from Momma.

I did the same Sunday, but headed to Coral Springs to Ross-hop.

Had a few more surprising surprises.

At the second Ross — Mom’s and my favorite, despite (for her) and because of (for me) me falling on my ass in the crosswalk — the door opened automatically.

This is one of those old Rosses where you still use door handles.

Like … IT OPENED when I walked up to it.

I walked five steps in, smiling.

When … and I can’t even believe I saw this with my own eyes … a cart dislodged itself from the corral.

That cart rolled backward and stopped right in front of me.

Dude. There was not a breeze. Not another living soul around for 5 yards in any direction.

So … she opened the door and gave me a cart in the same minute.

Oh but wait, Shamwow fans. There’s more.

I also hit a couple TJ Maxxes.

At the first one, I found the cutest fucking shirt that said, “Look What You Made Me Brew.”

LWYMMD is one of my favorite songs on earth.

Problem was, they only had an XL and I was swimming in it.

Searched the whole store for another, to no avail.

Went to another TJs.

Found two cute shirts, but not that one. I said OK Momma, if it’s here, walk me to it.

I — well, WE! — found the shirt where we didn’t expect it to be at all.

It’s a very perfect-fitting medium.

Like, I would have been happy with an L and that’s what I was hoping for.

But the M fit even better than the two L tops I bought with it.

So, as ever, Momma knows. She knows what I want and what I need, and she managed to get me both.

I’m normally not a medium in real life. But I really felt her absolutely everywhere, laughing with me at all the stupid jokes I haven’t said out loud in years.

It was a good weekend.

The best.

“I had the best day with you today,” Momma. Thank you for that!

“You can say there’s no such thing as Santa.
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe.”

Anyone who doesn’t believe there’s a veil and they are on the other side of it … bye.

In my previous post, I mentioned how Mom seems to be in the air for her old friend and me.

What happened next made her friend spit out her cookie when I told her.

I sat out in the sun today. Where I broke my new Betsey Johnson tumbler that I picked up in Orlando. First use.

I’d remembered seeing an identical one at the closest Ross to me. So I tossed my cover-up over my wet bathing suit and drove to get it.

They had a million tumblers, but it wasn’t anywhere.

I went to leave, and I don’t know how, but my dress somehow got caught on a display.

I went flying backward … and saw the damn tumbler at the back of a lower shelf.

The second I saw those pumpkins, I said, “Thanks, Momma!” I knew she had scruffed me so I wouldn’t miss it.

The new tumbler was also broken, but in a different way than mine.

So I got 10% off. Now I have a perfect tumbler for the cost of two.

Since I was at Ross, I ordered from the Italian joint in the same parking lot.

They do a pumpkin ravioli with pancetta special every September, and I thought, get one in Momma’s honor.

I won’t talk about how I ate the entire loaf of olive oil soaked Italian bread in the car on the ride home.

But as I was sitting on the couch with a face full of pumpkin and pancetta, her song came on.

“She’s in love with the boy.”

That was her song for Scumby.

Oh he was such a loser. But she was always running out the door to jump in his tin can.

Now the odds of this song playing in my house …

As I’m eating a meal she loved …

After she pointed me toward something I wanted in Ross …

AND I forgot to mention that I thought of her today and asked where Tuggy (the tugboat) has been and TUGGY LITERALLY DROVE BY AS I THOUGHT ABOUT IT …

Are fucking zero. OK? Those odds are ZE. RO.

Taylor Swift Radio is back on Sirius 13 for another limited run. So I’ve been playing that for the cats.

How the fuck has the channel changed … and it’s playing Trisha Yearwood?!

Well, I sure hope she got to sneak a taste of pancetta, because it was superb.

Funny enough, as I sat dumbfounded over the song, each cat came up and licked some pancetta off the ravioli.

Well, Momma always wanted us to eat as a family.

I love that today, we got to do that again.

Love you, Momma! Thank you for your visit. Come back for the Taylor Swift listening party on Oct. 3. And Practical Magic 2 is coming out! You better come get a “midnight margarita” with me!

Also … “Fly Me to the Moon” is playing now. That was on the “Once Around” soundtrack from 1990. Which we LOVED!

Keep DJing tonight, Momma. Loving it! And you!

Mom’s friend texted two days ago to say she was up all night thinking of Mom.

It’s her birth month. The veil is thinning. I wasn’t surprised.

But I noticed I hadn’t really been picking up signs from Momma in a while.

I thought of her last night, as I do every night, but for a few reasons.

One, I was watching the “Golden Girls” series finale. The one where Dorothy met the love of her life and married him. At whatever senior age they were.

That was a very dashingly handsome Leslie Nielsen.

Her mom Sophia was supposed to move out of Blanche’s house with her. But she decided to stay with Blanche and Rose. And let Dorothy have this phase of her life to herself.

I cried so much. I mean, all those amazing actors are dead. But also, I remembered thinking that would be me, you know? I’d meet someone in my advanced (hah) age and hopefully Mom would have had someone to be with, too.

At least Sophia got to see her daughter’s wedding.

The second reason I thought of Momma was because I am trying to redo a vacation that’s been booked for months.

She always told me to put the questions into the universe before I fall asleep. She used to awaken with answers that way.

Well, I was more confused about my trip than ever this morning. And I thought, What Would Wobin Do?

Well, other than tell me I’m going to get myself killed and I should stay home, I mean.

I used to feel like she doubted me. But she never did. She would have told me, “My baby got everything handled.”

So I did a “free writing” session. First, I wrote what I have planned. Then I wrote WWWD — What Would Wobin Do — and told myself, ok, now write down your ideal itinerary.

Man, that was easy.

I already switched around some hotel nights. I put some tickets up for sale on Ticketmaster. And basically put a wish out in the universe to sell one so I could put the proceeds toward a better ticket.

There’s still some flight juggling to do. But, I really do amazing things when I know Mom’s pushing me to do them.

But she was far from done with me today…