Hard conversations start with...

a sentence. ~ Thank you Selena for this and other memorable 'forgettable' moments.

Remember the accidental dinner party? I do. The kind of event that seemed like I prepared for days to impress people who are supposed to be immune to being impressed just by virtue of the fact that they already know me so well that it doesn't matter. And, by inviting these particular people I already know that it will be an awesome time because we all just really like to get a buzz on together because we can make the same references to tv and movies and music and nothing gets too heavy to bring anyone down ?!?. Those are my favorite.

While searching for my feminist foundations my mind wanders to my favorite fantasy accidental dinner party. It is an all girl power puff affair. XXs with some real and some fictitious genius. Me + no 'have to's', with Amy Schumer as herself, Selena Meyer, Mindy Kaling as herself, Sam Fox and Daenerys Targaryen. No disrespect to Julia Louis Dreyfus or Pamela Alden, these are hard calls, but Selena and Sam are so pivotal to the construction of me, I just need them both to come in character please. Deja Vu. Ecouté and Repeté.

These women all inspire a Je ne sais quoi, can do, fuck you, lost in space brilliance, par excellence that explains the female experience that I aspire to incorporate into my personal brand of feminine mystique. Plus I really want these icons as friends. Friendship is probably important to be my kind of feminist, that and techniques to trick folks into thinking that you are the epitome of a lady. I think I can learn a lot from my list of most iconic real gals and I think they'd have fun swapping taglines. Tags help the cause when you're a complex character. A cool customer. The most vivid character in the scene. Having icons as friends would be fun but not necessarily better than my real friends, because who better than your real friends to reflect back to you all the ways that you miss the mark and all the ways that it doesn't even matter so long as you are you. And, when you're friends by choice this makes you like them even more and have them over to your house on a whim for some G+Ts or just even a meet up in town for a pastry or a walk. My icon friends are only there because it's my fantasy so they have to come. Repeté and Repeté.

The icon ladies make stress seem fun, glamorous even. Nowadays, there's so much 'conversation' around the things that make us stressed. Why do we participate in this? Sometimes a cigar is a cigar ~ oui? I think that if we outgrow the need to be consumed by being busy, there's likely another side of hooey that we can root around for complaints as entertainment. This is the gift of all my dinner party guests, especially Amy and with the exception of Daenerys, because, you know, dothraki and dragons is all pretty stressful for reals... my icon gals are all swimming around and growing inside and out from the supremely silly to the sublimely stupid. Just like life. They're loyal to a fault to their friends (casting?) and they only outgrow places or faces when it's the end of a season. 100 p.

I moved from the megatropolis of Los Angeles to a small farming town to get 'back to the land' and my beloved dog Opie, named officially O.P.P. short for 'official platinum puppy', was my very best friend for a long time. He seems to appreciate the specialty blend of Amy-Selena-Mindy-Sam-Daenerys that I aspired to and was unequivocally forgiving of it. Perhaps it was simply the biology of imprinting because I was his food source that made him a one woman dog, but I like to think we were true friends. His pint sized name, morphed from O.P.P. into Opie because everyone thought that I was a lesbian from tv land and probably knew the fictional Opie Taylor from Mayberry/Hollywood. That name belied his oft misunderstood loyalty demeanor, that was a routine 'grrrrrr'. He hated blondes, little kids and power-libs. He was fierce like a polar bear and as loyal as a direwolf. The loss of him and the puncture wound his leaving leaves goes through me all the way down to my childhood and around the back of me to some future hollow on the light-absence side of my history. It's only from there that I can look upon him still. Ow. The farm folk in my town all liked my dog and said so at the breakfast place whilst he sat outside dutifully waiting for me on Saturday mornings. How they knew the name Opie was not yet a racist trope but was actually Naughty by Nature is almost as puzzling as how I grew out of a music video incubator and never knew what O.P.P. actually meant. Opie certainly didn't give two nickles. I sort of knew O.P.P. had a meaning beyond 'other people's privates' which is what my brother in law told me it meant, I simply had no reason to plumb. Amy Schumer would have most certainly set me straight. This garden variety of obsequious ignorance is a mark of beauty and freedom that I see as a keystone becoming a card carrying ASMSD dinner party feminist.

Menu and mis en place for my fun all girl soiree include:

Location. Beachwood Canyon, time traveled back to Blue Nile period. My place b/c.

Service. Me, b/c bishes, please. I am here to serve you queens and b/c I do not want a single extra human present. Outdoors at the Beastie Boys conference table - appropriate.

Weather. Trip hop chill with a chance of helicopter lights, Selena's S.S. or David Geffen.

Food. Cheese. Bread. Chocolate. B. Bushmills. Cigarettes.

Music. Mix tape from Sam Fox.

Attire. Game of Thrones fabulous, b/c we don't want Daenerys to be uncomfortable.

Ladies. Thank you for being just the way you are written to be.