The world is just getting less and less predictable. People I admire are coming out of the woodwork, and people I used to admire are withering on the Bush-supported vine. Hillary Clinton? Major douche bag. Rocky Anderson, mayor of Salt Lake City? Amazing. Today he led a protest against King George Bushwho was in town to address the American Legion. Particularly given that something like 80% of the state of Utah votes Republican and offers the highest approval ratings of this criminal administration anywhere in the nation.
Rock on, Rocky!
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Telling it like it is
I was digging through some old pictures on our computer and came across this one from a trip to Cleveland last summer. Husband and I went to the famous cemetary where many dead rich people are buried. I saw this sign and had to pose. (I swear I am not responsible for the graffiti!) I love this picture for a variety of reasons, the main one being that I think I look cute in it. I usually HATE what I look like in pictures. This picture also reminds me how much I miss having little piggy tails because my hair is too short.Husband also posed by this sign, but he pointed to the word "billionaire."
Winter (coat) blues
The only thing worse than shopping for a bathing suit is shopping for a winter coat. When I was a youth living in Chicago, this twisted situation was not the case. Chicago is obviously freezing in the winter. Hence nearly everyone buys a big, puffy down-filled coat. These coats tend to come with hoods because it is cold and snowing and you’d be stupid not to have one in the event of a storm. Anyone can wear a big puffy coat, no matter if you are tall, short, overweight, underweight, or just right. People in Chicago have worn them for years, way before it was trendy to wear a puffy coat on the East coast.
New York winters are much milder than Chicago winters. Big puffy down-filled coats are for the more part not practical because they are too warm and you will sweat to death in the subway station. I learned this when I moved here for college with my Triple Fat Goose coat (below, second from left).
This coat was so tricked out that it even had a whistle tucked away in a sleeve pocket for my safety, but I digress. Because New York winters are mild, and because New Yorkers, until two seasons ago, would not be coat dead in a formless puffy coat, everyone here wears long wool coats, usually in black or dark grey.
I resisted getting a wool coat all throughout college and grad school, relying on my Land’s End Squall Jacket (below, from Nov. 1995)
on moderately cold days and whipping out the Goose for those few times it was sub-zero. When I began working full-time, I began to feel like an idiot when I would go to meetings with outsiders and walk in wearing a coat the size of Alaska. I trekked over to Burlington Coat Factory (supposedly, they are “more than great coats,” although just having great coats fit my purpose just fine) and began perusing.
The reason why I hate shopping for coats is that I seem to violate some unspoken Law of Long Wool Coat Designers. According this super secret document, forged sometime around 2003, it is forbidden to make a long wool coat for a short woman that also includes a hood. Need a long coat for a woman under 5’4”? No problem. Need a long wool coat with a hood? Easy as pie to find. Need a long wool coat for a short woman that has a hood? Sorry, no can do.
I was lucky when I bought my last winter coat because the Pact had not yet gone into effect, apparently. I walked into Burlington Coat Factory, fell in love with a stunning Albert Nipon long black coat with princess seams with a lovely hood, and walked out looking like a million bucks. I love this coat more than a person has any right to love a coat.
Sadly, I discovered that the fabric on the back of my beloved coat was worn through. Not on the seams, as that would be fixable and I would have it done in two seconds, but in the middle of the back. Fabric would basically need to be rewoven. As much as I loved my coat, I needed a new one. I set out for a replacement. That is when I discovered the Law. After hitting every possible store – department store, chain store, boutique, whatever – and trolling the internet, including eBay, I gave up. It was not possible to buy a long wool coat for a short woman with a hood. The holes on my coat became bigger. I knew I would have to face reality the next winter season, which is coming up on me quickly.
Even if I could find patches for my coat to bring it through another season, I ate a few too many fried items on boardwalks or at state fairs this summer. My hips ain’t what they used to be, and that baby just is not going to attractively button over them any more. I am hoping that the Law has been nullified and that some brave designer will have decided that short women need coats with hoods, damn it! The hunt begins on Friday. Wish me luck.
New York winters are much milder than Chicago winters. Big puffy down-filled coats are for the more part not practical because they are too warm and you will sweat to death in the subway station. I learned this when I moved here for college with my Triple Fat Goose coat (below, second from left).
This coat was so tricked out that it even had a whistle tucked away in a sleeve pocket for my safety, but I digress. Because New York winters are mild, and because New Yorkers, until two seasons ago, would not be coat dead in a formless puffy coat, everyone here wears long wool coats, usually in black or dark grey.I resisted getting a wool coat all throughout college and grad school, relying on my Land’s End Squall Jacket (below, from Nov. 1995)
 - Suzanne Blows Bubbles-723088.jpg)
on moderately cold days and whipping out the Goose for those few times it was sub-zero. When I began working full-time, I began to feel like an idiot when I would go to meetings with outsiders and walk in wearing a coat the size of Alaska. I trekked over to Burlington Coat Factory (supposedly, they are “more than great coats,” although just having great coats fit my purpose just fine) and began perusing.The reason why I hate shopping for coats is that I seem to violate some unspoken Law of Long Wool Coat Designers. According this super secret document, forged sometime around 2003, it is forbidden to make a long wool coat for a short woman that also includes a hood. Need a long coat for a woman under 5’4”? No problem. Need a long wool coat with a hood? Easy as pie to find. Need a long wool coat for a short woman that has a hood? Sorry, no can do.
I was lucky when I bought my last winter coat because the Pact had not yet gone into effect, apparently. I walked into Burlington Coat Factory, fell in love with a stunning Albert Nipon long black coat with princess seams with a lovely hood, and walked out looking like a million bucks. I love this coat more than a person has any right to love a coat.
Sadly, I discovered that the fabric on the back of my beloved coat was worn through. Not on the seams, as that would be fixable and I would have it done in two seconds, but in the middle of the back. Fabric would basically need to be rewoven. As much as I loved my coat, I needed a new one. I set out for a replacement. That is when I discovered the Law. After hitting every possible store – department store, chain store, boutique, whatever – and trolling the internet, including eBay, I gave up. It was not possible to buy a long wool coat for a short woman with a hood. The holes on my coat became bigger. I knew I would have to face reality the next winter season, which is coming up on me quickly.
Even if I could find patches for my coat to bring it through another season, I ate a few too many fried items on boardwalks or at state fairs this summer. My hips ain’t what they used to be, and that baby just is not going to attractively button over them any more. I am hoping that the Law has been nullified and that some brave designer will have decided that short women need coats with hoods, damn it! The hunt begins on Friday. Wish me luck.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Snatch Temple and Howard Stern strike again
Yesterday, I opened up my little statistics page and was shocked by a sudden spike in visits to CUSS. Mere moments later, I realized that it was again due to the infamous site, snatchtemple.com. It seems that Howard Stern is again talking about Snatch Temple, which according to my own google investigation, is “where pussy is worshipped through acts of sexual…” Intriguing! I want to know more, but the link to the site brings you to nothing. Just a tiny message in the upper left-hand corner of the screen, noting, “This is exploreweb site.” Bah! Thanks for the info.
What is really cracking me up, though, is that the Campaign for Unshaved Snatch shows up as the first item in the google search. Poor horny Howard Stern listeners are excitedly clicking on the link, only to find that the site contains a single pussy pic of a less arousing nature (unless of course the picture of a Siamese cat with a yarmulke is someone’s fetish - who knows what desires lurk in the hearts of Howard Stern fans?), lots of bitching about sexism, and some random amusing stories. I’m guessing this is not what they had in mind.
If you are one of those people searching desperately for the real Snatch Temple, can you please take a moment and leave a comment here? Are you disappointed by what you found here, or did it turn out to be a pleasant surprise? Would you return for more insightful commentary on the irritating ways of the world? Just curious.
What is really cracking me up, though, is that the Campaign for Unshaved Snatch shows up as the first item in the google search. Poor horny Howard Stern listeners are excitedly clicking on the link, only to find that the site contains a single pussy pic of a less arousing nature (unless of course the picture of a Siamese cat with a yarmulke is someone’s fetish - who knows what desires lurk in the hearts of Howard Stern fans?), lots of bitching about sexism, and some random amusing stories. I’m guessing this is not what they had in mind.
If you are one of those people searching desperately for the real Snatch Temple, can you please take a moment and leave a comment here? Are you disappointed by what you found here, or did it turn out to be a pleasant surprise? Would you return for more insightful commentary on the irritating ways of the world? Just curious.
It is a joke, right?
Memo
To: Last Comic Standing casting director
From: Suzanne
Re: Casting suggestion for next season
This gray morning I was reading the formerly venerable New York Times, which generally provides me with a nice side dish of rage for my cereal (as often due to their shitty reporting and lack of critical analysis these last few years as much as for the dismal news itself), but this morning was a source of comic gold. In Maureen Dowd’s column, she reports on President Bush’s joke-y little visit to New Orleans yesterday, one year after Hurricane Katrina rained injustice on the city. Now, his bons mots were not all that funny - although they do offer up some good moments of “he-did-not just say that, did he? –but when he was approached by NBC news anchor Brian Williams, a truly funny exhange took place.
Williams asked Bush if he was asking his country to sacrifice enough. Bush replied, “Americans are sacrificing. We pay a lot of taxes.”
Hilarious, right? No one who was president and involved in a war, among other extremely costly disasters, and who cut taxes during this time when revenue is so badly needed, would seriously say that Americans are paying a lot in taxes. Bush is a fucking comedic genius. That shit is funny.
It would be cool if the American people would wake up and impeach this impish prankster, and then Last Comic Standing could scoop him up for your show. Watching him interact with the other comedians in the house will be gut-busting. Your ratings will be sky high. (Although beware a late season plummet, when people get pissed about any number of potential bombs that he drops.) The best part is that he already has the vote tampering down, but people will still call with their votes anyway. Like the electronic voting machines, there’s no paper trail, so the producers can cut Bush a sweet deal with a guaranteed victory!
Maybe you can change the title of the show when he wins to King George is the Last Comic Coronated. He’s the King of Farce, I tell you!
To: Last Comic Standing casting director
From: Suzanne
Re: Casting suggestion for next season
This gray morning I was reading the formerly venerable New York Times, which generally provides me with a nice side dish of rage for my cereal (as often due to their shitty reporting and lack of critical analysis these last few years as much as for the dismal news itself), but this morning was a source of comic gold. In Maureen Dowd’s column, she reports on President Bush’s joke-y little visit to New Orleans yesterday, one year after Hurricane Katrina rained injustice on the city. Now, his bons mots were not all that funny - although they do offer up some good moments of “he-did-not just say that, did he? –but when he was approached by NBC news anchor Brian Williams, a truly funny exhange took place.
Williams asked Bush if he was asking his country to sacrifice enough. Bush replied, “Americans are sacrificing. We pay a lot of taxes.”
Hilarious, right? No one who was president and involved in a war, among other extremely costly disasters, and who cut taxes during this time when revenue is so badly needed, would seriously say that Americans are paying a lot in taxes. Bush is a fucking comedic genius. That shit is funny.
It would be cool if the American people would wake up and impeach this impish prankster, and then Last Comic Standing could scoop him up for your show. Watching him interact with the other comedians in the house will be gut-busting. Your ratings will be sky high. (Although beware a late season plummet, when people get pissed about any number of potential bombs that he drops.) The best part is that he already has the vote tampering down, but people will still call with their votes anyway. Like the electronic voting machines, there’s no paper trail, so the producers can cut Bush a sweet deal with a guaranteed victory!
Maybe you can change the title of the show when he wins to King George is the Last Comic Coronated. He’s the King of Farce, I tell you!
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Modeling with a dangerous predator
Theo braved death (destuffing?) to bring you a very fashionable photo. The least you can do is check it out.
My friends on Jeopardy!, baby
In the past few years, two of my friends have appeared on Jeopardy! and a third one is heading to LA at the end of September to tape at least one show and hopefully more. When my friend told a mutual acquaintence of her plans to head West to find her fortune, he suggested that she and my other lady friend only appeared on the show because Jeopardy! is in desparate need of chicks to fill their airtime. (Yes, he is always a fuckface.)
I know that this suggestion should rankle and annoy me, but instead I want to run out and audition for Jeopardy! myself. Sort of sad to take advantage of sexism this way, but who cares when fame and fortune await?!?! Who's with me?
I know that this suggestion should rankle and annoy me, but instead I want to run out and audition for Jeopardy! myself. Sort of sad to take advantage of sexism this way, but who cares when fame and fortune await?!?! Who's with me?
Ripped from the headlines
Actually, this is not really an accurate title for this post because my beef is with the actual headline, but anyway... As I picked up today's New York Times Arts section for my daily crossword challenge (supposedly it will help ward off senility, but since it seems to have already set in, I'm not sure how that is going to work - maybe it will prevent me from being a drooling vegetable at 40, which is where I feel like I am headed), I stopped dead in my tracks at this offensive headline:
Hyperion Starts Imprint to Help Women Whittle the Book Choices
A publisher focuses on female readers in their 30's and older.
Hey! That's me! Funny, I don't seem to be paralyzed by the book choices out there, nor do I need "help" whittling it down. Reading on in the article, I am informed that it will have an anti-chick lit bent. Again, I don't need help distinguishing chick lit from non-chick lit. Usually it is pretty obvious to me.
The thing is, it seems that I might like a lot of the books that this imprint is putting out. The first will be a book that "argues that women who 'opt out' of careers to raise children forfeit the financial, intellectual, and even medical benefits of working outside the home." No arguments from me here. (Of course, the converse argument is that women who don't stay home miss out on time spent with the kids that they will never get back, but there are plenty of books out there dealing with that topic, so I am glad to see the flip side of the coin.)
Just as I was thinking that the issue was the Times coming up with a stupid headline, the problem resurfaces. "People are overwhelmed by choice, and what they want is someone who is self-selecting for them," [Ms. Dorman, the editor] said.
Nope, lady. I have my three bookclubs, book reviews, bookstore recommendations, and reading blurbs on the books to help me narrow down my choices. The number of choices of books is not the problem. Please stop "helping" me.
Hyperion Starts Imprint to Help Women Whittle the Book Choices
A publisher focuses on female readers in their 30's and older.
Hey! That's me! Funny, I don't seem to be paralyzed by the book choices out there, nor do I need "help" whittling it down. Reading on in the article, I am informed that it will have an anti-chick lit bent. Again, I don't need help distinguishing chick lit from non-chick lit. Usually it is pretty obvious to me.
The thing is, it seems that I might like a lot of the books that this imprint is putting out. The first will be a book that "argues that women who 'opt out' of careers to raise children forfeit the financial, intellectual, and even medical benefits of working outside the home." No arguments from me here. (Of course, the converse argument is that women who don't stay home miss out on time spent with the kids that they will never get back, but there are plenty of books out there dealing with that topic, so I am glad to see the flip side of the coin.)
Just as I was thinking that the issue was the Times coming up with a stupid headline, the problem resurfaces. "People are overwhelmed by choice, and what they want is someone who is self-selecting for them," [Ms. Dorman, the editor] said.
Nope, lady. I have my three bookclubs, book reviews, bookstore recommendations, and reading blurbs on the books to help me narrow down my choices. The number of choices of books is not the problem. Please stop "helping" me.
Doctors make me sick
No offense to my dear friends Dr. P and Dr. H, but I fucking hate doctors. Last Thursday morning a semi-intelligible message was left on my answering machine from someone at my doctor’s office, both confirming that I am scheduled for an appointment on Friday at 10:30 am and that I need to call with my new insurance information. Of course, I completely forgot about said appointment or I would have rescheduled it for September, as I am currently “between” insurance coverages. (Hence dropping the computer on my foot last week was not great timing. I’m pretty sure that it is not fractured, but I didn’t go to the ER or any doctor to find out for sure, either.)
Anyway, I was mad busy at work and did not have a chance to call the doctor’s office back until the end of the day. I carefully explained my situation (“I don’t have insurance right now. Can I reschedule the appointment for September?”) to the douche bag who is temporarily (I hope) replacing the normal staff, which consisted of two women who recently gave birth. Douchie tells me that Dr. So-and-So has a 24 hour notice of cancellation policy, and I will need to pay for my appointment if I cancel. (He seems to not notice that I am canceling because I don’t fucking want to pay out of pocket, and thus am not likely to pay their cute little fee.)
Coldly (my voice was an icicle dagger, I swear), I tell Douchie that is very nice and all, but I have been a patient for a very, very long time and I have never cancelled at the last minute before, whereas Dr. So-and-So has actually cancelled on me quite often at the last minute. Douchie thinks this over and says that he will mention it to Dr. So-and-So and see what he says. I suggest that he do that.
Later, when I relate this story to Husband, he tells me that there was once a Seinfeld episode where a doctor cancels someone’s appointment to go skiing, and all hell breaks loose. Normally I find Seinfeld annoyingly contrived, but that seems about right to me.
Fucking doctors.
Anyway, I was mad busy at work and did not have a chance to call the doctor’s office back until the end of the day. I carefully explained my situation (“I don’t have insurance right now. Can I reschedule the appointment for September?”) to the douche bag who is temporarily (I hope) replacing the normal staff, which consisted of two women who recently gave birth. Douchie tells me that Dr. So-and-So has a 24 hour notice of cancellation policy, and I will need to pay for my appointment if I cancel. (He seems to not notice that I am canceling because I don’t fucking want to pay out of pocket, and thus am not likely to pay their cute little fee.)
Coldly (my voice was an icicle dagger, I swear), I tell Douchie that is very nice and all, but I have been a patient for a very, very long time and I have never cancelled at the last minute before, whereas Dr. So-and-So has actually cancelled on me quite often at the last minute. Douchie thinks this over and says that he will mention it to Dr. So-and-So and see what he says. I suggest that he do that.
Later, when I relate this story to Husband, he tells me that there was once a Seinfeld episode where a doctor cancels someone’s appointment to go skiing, and all hell breaks loose. Normally I find Seinfeld annoyingly contrived, but that seems about right to me.
Fucking doctors.
Monday, August 28, 2006
CUSS: Now with more Jewish pussy!
I always try to please people when I can. So if someone wants Jewish pussy, I will deliver Jewish pussy. It's unshaved, too - just how I like it.
Actually, this type of unshaved pussy bothers my allergies. I do like the sullen, pissed off expression on its punim (face). It's like, "You'll be atoning for this little stunt at Yom Kippur, motherfuckers!"
The real irony is that this picture comes compliments of Bang It Out. As a secular person - a married secular person at that - I never heard about Bang It Out until this past January, when the Big O regaled me with tales of his Bang It Out New Year's Eve party.
What Big O and I did not know at the time he decided to attend said party is that Bang It Out organizes parties for Modern Orthodox and Orthodox singles. Big O showed up and was the only guy not wearing a yarmulke. (Even the fucking cat had a damn yarmulke, assuming it was there as Bang It Out's fun-loving mascot...) This did not stop him, however, from getting wasted with a young MoDox lass and engaging in a drunken one-night stand.
See? There really is Jewish pussy in this post.
Actually, this type of unshaved pussy bothers my allergies. I do like the sullen, pissed off expression on its punim (face). It's like, "You'll be atoning for this little stunt at Yom Kippur, motherfuckers!"The real irony is that this picture comes compliments of Bang It Out. As a secular person - a married secular person at that - I never heard about Bang It Out until this past January, when the Big O regaled me with tales of his Bang It Out New Year's Eve party.
What Big O and I did not know at the time he decided to attend said party is that Bang It Out organizes parties for Modern Orthodox and Orthodox singles. Big O showed up and was the only guy not wearing a yarmulke. (Even the fucking cat had a damn yarmulke, assuming it was there as Bang It Out's fun-loving mascot...) This did not stop him, however, from getting wasted with a young MoDox lass and engaging in a drunken one-night stand.
See? There really is Jewish pussy in this post.
Representing my peeps
Someone arrived at CUSS by searching for “Jewish pussy” on Yahoo.com. Really, what does that mean? Is that person expecting “Jewish pussy” to look very different from other pussy? Do they think that Jewish pussy has payisses (the ringlets that Hasidic men wear on their heads) or wear yamulkes or something? That would actually be funny, but I don’t think it is true, regardless of whether we are talking about Jewish cats or Jewish poon.
Sorry to disappoint you, whoever you are.
Sorry to disappoint you, whoever you are.
Damn, my friends are a talented and brilliant bunch!
My friend Sara was published in the "Metropolitan Diary" section of the New York Times today. For those of you unfamiliar with this feature, people send in amusing stories about life in New York. Here is Sara's opus:
Dear Diary:Congrats, Sara! Nicely done!
While riding a crowded D train back to the Upper West Side after a recent Mets-Yankees game, I noticed a man sitting and intently reading a guidebook. He was oblivious to the conversations around him and just sat tracing the maps with his finger.
A young man, taking pity on the tourist, asked him if he needed directions to someplace in particular.
The “tourist” shook his head and replied: “This is a guidebook for Toronto. I am from the Upper West Side.”
Upon hearing this, the young man shook his head sadly and remarked, “Yeah, I get confused in neighborhoods below 14th Street, too.”
You can't do that on television!
Husband: [says something during Virginia Madsen's Emmy award presentation, in which that necklace was centered exactly in her cleavage]
Me: What? I didn't hear you. I am distracted by her sparkly cleavage.
Husband: It looks cum dripping.
Us: Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
Sunday, August 27, 2006
There's drek on my TV
Is anyone else watching the Emmys? If so, do you agree with me that this must be one of the worst, schmaltziest productions in recent times? Other than Bob Newhart, none of the jokes have really worked. Also, all the gowns and the boobs in them (meant both ways) look hideous. Let’s not even mention Barry Manilow and his disturbing face lift/Botox performance. Yeesh.
I do give props to Mariska Hargitay who looks like she actually just had a baby, and did. It’s great that she didn’t “magically” lose 4 gazillion pounds like all the other celeb moms somehow do. Also, Dick Clark seriously choked me up.
Otherwise, it’s drek (shit)!
I do give props to Mariska Hargitay who looks like she actually just had a baby, and did. It’s great that she didn’t “magically” lose 4 gazillion pounds like all the other celeb moms somehow do. Also, Dick Clark seriously choked me up.
Otherwise, it’s drek (shit)!
Some props
Happy 33rd (or 34th, I'm really bad with these things) anniversary to Mom and Pop CUSS! I love you guys.
(I'll return to my regular program of seething humorous social commentary as soon as Blogger stops being a shitty program and lets me publish my rant about fitted t-shirts instead of giving me error messages.)
(I'll return to my regular program of seething humorous social commentary as soon as Blogger stops being a shitty program and lets me publish my rant about fitted t-shirts instead of giving me error messages.)
Squeezing in
Back in July at the BlogHer conference, my delightful friend Suebob of Red Stapler gave me this hilarious red stapler t-shirt
in pink. She had ordered it from Cafepress and when it arrived, it seemed to be in a girl’s size rather than a woman’s. The nice people at Cafepress refunded her money without asking her to send it back, and she brought it to BlogHer anyway. Upon seeing me and my non-existent torso, which results in me being the approximate height of a young woman in junior high school, she very generously gave the shirt to me.
I wore this shirt recently and realized something scary: it actually is a woman’s shirt. The shirt (but not the design) is manufactured by American Apparel, the controversial clothing manufacturer based in Los Angeles. On one hand (the positive one), American Apparel is made in the good old US of A and actually pays workers a very decent wage, in addition to providing health insurance. Very good! On the other hand (the negative one), American Apparel’s CEO, Dov Charney is a repulsive lecher and creates a work environment rife with sexual harassment. He also is leading the pack in pretending that grown women are the size of girls in junior high and thus making clothes on that scale.
True, there are a lot of women who like wearing tiny fitted tees. They look cute in them. There is only a problem when manufacturers and designers only produce clothing to fit this one particular body type. Last week, I wrote about the brouhaha that ensued at BlogHer upon the discovery that the free Elexa t-shirts only came in a size small. Yet even if they were available to the wide variety of BlogHer attendees in a wide variety of sizes, it still would not have solved the problem that they still look like they are made for girls, just slightly longer or shorter depending on the size. These fitted t-shirts are the same width pretty much regardless of size and meant to fit like a damn glove. Meaning: a large is meant for a tall skinny woman, and a small is for a short skinny woman. Any other size woman deviates from this thin norm. While some regular women wear them anyway, not all of us want to be flaunting our curves. (Let’s just say I am fine as long as I am standing up, but my lap gut is not well hidden in a t-shirt that fits like a second layer of skin. I wear my few fitted tees anyway ‘cause I like the message on the shirts, but I would far prefer regular tees.)
The point is that whether we are told that we should shave our snatches (to look like pre-teens) to be in style or being wedged into a teeny-but-hip t-shirts, once again “fashion” is forcing women to be like girls. And don’t even get me started about the re-emergence of bubble skirts, the more insidious design of the late ‘80s. (Yes, worse than shoulder pads!)
in pink. She had ordered it from Cafepress and when it arrived, it seemed to be in a girl’s size rather than a woman’s. The nice people at Cafepress refunded her money without asking her to send it back, and she brought it to BlogHer anyway. Upon seeing me and my non-existent torso, which results in me being the approximate height of a young woman in junior high school, she very generously gave the shirt to me.I wore this shirt recently and realized something scary: it actually is a woman’s shirt. The shirt (but not the design) is manufactured by American Apparel, the controversial clothing manufacturer based in Los Angeles. On one hand (the positive one), American Apparel is made in the good old US of A and actually pays workers a very decent wage, in addition to providing health insurance. Very good! On the other hand (the negative one), American Apparel’s CEO, Dov Charney is a repulsive lecher and creates a work environment rife with sexual harassment. He also is leading the pack in pretending that grown women are the size of girls in junior high and thus making clothes on that scale.
True, there are a lot of women who like wearing tiny fitted tees. They look cute in them. There is only a problem when manufacturers and designers only produce clothing to fit this one particular body type. Last week, I wrote about the brouhaha that ensued at BlogHer upon the discovery that the free Elexa t-shirts only came in a size small. Yet even if they were available to the wide variety of BlogHer attendees in a wide variety of sizes, it still would not have solved the problem that they still look like they are made for girls, just slightly longer or shorter depending on the size. These fitted t-shirts are the same width pretty much regardless of size and meant to fit like a damn glove. Meaning: a large is meant for a tall skinny woman, and a small is for a short skinny woman. Any other size woman deviates from this thin norm. While some regular women wear them anyway, not all of us want to be flaunting our curves. (Let’s just say I am fine as long as I am standing up, but my lap gut is not well hidden in a t-shirt that fits like a second layer of skin. I wear my few fitted tees anyway ‘cause I like the message on the shirts, but I would far prefer regular tees.)
The point is that whether we are told that we should shave our snatches (to look like pre-teens) to be in style or being wedged into a teeny-but-hip t-shirts, once again “fashion” is forcing women to be like girls. And don’t even get me started about the re-emergence of bubble skirts, the more insidious design of the late ‘80s. (Yes, worse than shoulder pads!)
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Something all Jews can agree on (no, not Israel!)
Recently the Mets acquired a new right fielder and a team Jew, Shawn Green. Once this happened, Husband predicted there would be zillions of articles about Sandy Koufax, Jewish pride, and New York’s Jewish community. He pointed out that while there are no Jewish sports stars, all the sportswriters are basically Jewish (not to mention the agents) and they LOVE writing about the rare Heeb that can make it in professional sports (not counting Quiz Bowels as “sports” despite the usage of the word “bowl”).
Sure enough, today’s New York Times Metro section – yes, the Metro section, not the sports section – has a front page article titled A Power Hitter. A Good Fielder. And a Source of Jewish Pride. While I am only guessing, it seems highly likely that the authors of the article, Andy Newman and Michael S. Schmidt, are – this is just too crazy –also Jewish! This article is hysterically funny in many ways, so I recommend reading it. If you don’t have the time to invest, here are a few highlights:
*not too expensive (a worry of every Jew, right?)
**craziness
***family; clan
****He can grow like an onion with your head in the ground (one of the first Yiddish curses I ever learned)
Sure enough, today’s New York Times Metro section – yes, the Metro section, not the sports section – has a front page article titled A Power Hitter. A Good Fielder. And a Source of Jewish Pride. While I am only guessing, it seems highly likely that the authors of the article, Andy Newman and Michael S. Schmidt, are – this is just too crazy –also Jewish! This article is hysterically funny in many ways, so I recommend reading it. If you don’t have the time to invest, here are a few highlights:
- The accompanying picture is captioned, “Shawn Green, perhaps the best Jewish ballplayer today, with Carlos Delgado.” (Here’s a fun game: how many other Jewish players today can you name? Husband named three.)
- ”But still the Jewish people hunger for a hometown hero to call their own.”
- “…a fan named Corey Mintz held up a poster with Mr. Green’s photo on it. “The messiah has arrived,” the poster read.”
- ”[Mr. Green] is arguably the best Jewish baseball player since Koufax.” (Ah, the inevitable Koufax comparison!)
- ”Everyone is asking me:.. “How can I get him to come to our temple?”
- “’He’s a team player, and he’s on our team, if you know what I’m saying,” Mr. Moskowitz said.”
- “…a husky Manhattanite with a billowing Jewish afro and a gold Hebrew ‘chai’ necklace outside his Dwight Gooden jersey, called Mr. Green a role model.”
- “Though Mr. Green arrives just in time for Jewish Heritage Day, which was scheduled long in advance, Mr. Horwitz promised that his acquisition was not a marketing stunt… This was a baseball decision.” (No shit! Here I thought they were trying to lure more Jews to watch baseball, since clearly none of us do, although the fact that they have Jewish Heritage Day at all at Shea Stadium is beyond amusing.)
- “I haven’t been this proud of a Jew since my brother’s bar mitzvah.”
*not too expensive (a worry of every Jew, right?)
**craziness
***family; clan
****He can grow like an onion with your head in the ground (one of the first Yiddish curses I ever learned)
Friday, August 25, 2006
This is the way to spend a rainy Friday afternoon
Husband and I slacked off our collective responsibilities this afternoon and spent some quality time together watching racist, sexist, and hilarious action entertainment. That’s right: I’m talking about one of my favorite movies, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. Man, I can’t get enough of that movie. Chinese people are all evil gangsters, Indians are all either thug cultists or innocent villagers living the simple life, Indy is a misogynist, and Willie is the type of woman who today would be running off to her favorite Eastern European waxer for a nice Brazilian to go with her manicure. But damn, it makes me laugh. From the infamous “Dr. Jones, no time for love!” (incorrectly quoted in Clerks as “No time for love Dr. Jones.”) to “Time to meet Kali – in hell!” to Willie singing “Anything Goes” in what I assume is either Cantonese or Mandarin to “The anecdote to the poison you just drank, Dr. Jones. Mwa ha ha ha!”, it is just full of great one-liners.
Incidentally, I am highly skeptical of the planned fourth Indy movie. Seriously, I really love that scoundrel as much as the next person, but Harrison Ford is so not cutting it for me any more. He has not gotten old; he’s become flat out gross, and I just don’t see anyone else stepping in to take over his extremely charming-and-yet-I-might punch-him-in-the-face-if-he-calls-me-doll-one-more-time role. The Harrison Ford of 20 years ago freakin’ is Indiana Jones. People probably felt the same way about Connery and Bond, but unlike Bond fans, I refuse to move on.
Incidentally, I am highly skeptical of the planned fourth Indy movie. Seriously, I really love that scoundrel as much as the next person, but Harrison Ford is so not cutting it for me any more. He has not gotten old; he’s become flat out gross, and I just don’t see anyone else stepping in to take over his extremely charming-and-yet-I-might punch-him-in-the-face-if-he-calls-me-doll-one-more-time role. The Harrison Ford of 20 years ago freakin’ is Indiana Jones. People probably felt the same way about Connery and Bond, but unlike Bond fans, I refuse to move on.
Hey Brother, Can You Spare Some Common Decency?
My colleague and I headed into the subway on our way home from work last night, only to be confronted by a nattily dressed man standing about ¾ of the way down the staircase. “Can you give me a dollar so that I can get home tonight?” he barked at us as we began descending the stairs. “Sorry,” I said politely.
This did not deter the snappy beggar. “Can you spare a dollar so I can get home tonight? Just a dollar?” He waved a handful of bills at us as we got closer, which made me wonder why he needed another since the subway is only $2 and it is possible to transfer to a bus for free. “Sorry,” I said again. He continued to block the stairs, so my co-worker and I proceeded single-file.
As I passed by him, he bellowed, “Aren’t there are good Christians in this City who love Jesus?” I’m unsure what this had to do with anything, as I doubt he was Jesus (he was too well dressed), and our denial of funds to him seems to me to be unrelated to our goodness as people. I cheerfully replied, “Not me!”
“No wonder why September 11th happened here,” he sneered.
Wow. I highly doubt that I could even come up with a more offensive response.
This did not deter the snappy beggar. “Can you spare a dollar so I can get home tonight? Just a dollar?” He waved a handful of bills at us as we got closer, which made me wonder why he needed another since the subway is only $2 and it is possible to transfer to a bus for free. “Sorry,” I said again. He continued to block the stairs, so my co-worker and I proceeded single-file.
As I passed by him, he bellowed, “Aren’t there are good Christians in this City who love Jesus?” I’m unsure what this had to do with anything, as I doubt he was Jesus (he was too well dressed), and our denial of funds to him seems to me to be unrelated to our goodness as people. I cheerfully replied, “Not me!”
“No wonder why September 11th happened here,” he sneered.
Wow. I highly doubt that I could even come up with a more offensive response.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Emergency Contraception for a Desperate Republican Party
I hate that emergency contraception (EC) is only approved now for over-the-counter use, ages after scientists and doctors deemed it safe. Of course, this is purely for political gain, which I find infuriating.
The battle is NOT over. Just because it is approved and legal to sell over the counter, will all women who need EC have access to it? A large number of women will not. Young women under the age of 18 are not going to be allowed to buy it without a prescription, and that’s even assuming that all drug stores and pharmacies stock it. It is sadly not uncommon for supposed life-loving pharmacies to refuse to dispense this vital resource. Several states recently had to pass laws requiring pharmacies to meet their obligations to give women their prescribed medication, for fuck’s sake.
The law doesn't force pharmacies to stock EC, so many women will have no more access to EC than they did before politicians found it expedient to make it available to women who vote.
The battle is NOT over. Just because it is approved and legal to sell over the counter, will all women who need EC have access to it? A large number of women will not. Young women under the age of 18 are not going to be allowed to buy it without a prescription, and that’s even assuming that all drug stores and pharmacies stock it. It is sadly not uncommon for supposed life-loving pharmacies to refuse to dispense this vital resource. Several states recently had to pass laws requiring pharmacies to meet their obligations to give women their prescribed medication, for fuck’s sake.
The law doesn't force pharmacies to stock EC, so many women will have no more access to EC than they did before politicians found it expedient to make it available to women who vote.
They're Here! They're Here!
Hurray! I am so excited! When I trudged home late from work (although the day was generally good, it was exhausting), I saw the box from stickerspot.com, and my tiredness evaporated. Thanks again to Tara Lynch for artfully and amusingly transforming my vague idea ("I want a cat and a beaver with their arms slung around each other, and the name of the blog, and the URL") into something so awesome! I regret to report that the colors are not quite as vibrant on the stickers, but they are printed on heavy duty (ha! ha!) vinyl, so they will last for quite some time.If you want some and already emailed me with your mailing info, I'll send you a bunch first thing tomorrow morning. (They are free - I'm just excited that people want to have CUSS stickers, but of course the design is so great, how can people resist?) If you want some and didn't send me your info, what the fuck are you waiting for? cussandotherrants@gmail.com
Flash!
My friend and I were standing around chatting on the sidewalk one night in August. Suddenly she said, "I wore this in your honor," and within seconds, unbuttoned, unzipped, and flash me her cute red undies that were not thongs. Her husband looked more than vaguely mortified that his wife exposed her undergarments to me on the street.
She's great, ain't she?
She's great, ain't she?
Sometimes Being in the Wrong Feels so Right
In the fall semester of my second year of college, my Danzig-loving anti-masturbation roommate from the prior year and I moved in with an awesome third roommate. Dianne and I somehow were on the same strange wavelength. One day, as we strolled through the East Village, we decided that it would be extremely funny to decorate our dorm room door with pictures of naked men cut out from porn magazines. We purchased a variety of select publications, and rushed back to the room, where we spent hours laughing hysterically as we snipped out pictures of men water flowers with their hoses and other cheese. Eager to share the laugh riot with our fellow students, we taped these pictures to the outside of our door, which faced the elevator.
Yeah, for reasons I cannot fathom, other students did not find the pictures as amusing as we did. The elevator door would open, someone would gasp, and then the doors would shut again and they’d be whisked away, their eyes bleeding. Several other residents on our floor insisted that they were degrading to men and that we take them down immediately. They took their case to our floor’s resident assistant, who knocked on our door on behalf of all the offended souls and told us to remove the obscenities.
I happened to hate our RA because he was an idiot, and while I was well aware of the fact that we had crossed a line with our artistic vision, I would not back down. I asked him why we had to remove our pictures of humans in their natural state. He replied that it offended people. I asked him who it offended. He said he could not tell me. I insisted that I had the right to confront my accuser. He had no idea what to say to this ridiculous, but official sounding charge, so he just told me that I could not do so. I asked why not. He said because. Blah blah blah.
At any rate, I eventually told him that I was offended by the pictures on his door (of photocopied Star Wars characters, one with a light saber) and said that he had to take his pictures down if I had to. He replied that there was nothing I could possibly be offended by, thus he would do no such thing. That’s when I nailed him. “But I am very sensitive to depictions of violence, and these pictures are upsetting to me because of the fighting portrayed.” Oh shit. He had no idea what to say to that. He just stood there with his mouth hanging open while I said I planned to report him to the building manager. The sad conclusion to the story is that the building manager moved him off my floor at the end of the semester because he could not handle me. (Really, he should have been fired for being an incompetent ass, but NYU management loves idiots.) To remain in housing, Dianne and I drew fig leaves and taped them over the crotches of our naked men and pretended to be incensed that we were so wrongfully censored.
Damn, that makes me laugh.
Yeah, for reasons I cannot fathom, other students did not find the pictures as amusing as we did. The elevator door would open, someone would gasp, and then the doors would shut again and they’d be whisked away, their eyes bleeding. Several other residents on our floor insisted that they were degrading to men and that we take them down immediately. They took their case to our floor’s resident assistant, who knocked on our door on behalf of all the offended souls and told us to remove the obscenities.
I happened to hate our RA because he was an idiot, and while I was well aware of the fact that we had crossed a line with our artistic vision, I would not back down. I asked him why we had to remove our pictures of humans in their natural state. He replied that it offended people. I asked him who it offended. He said he could not tell me. I insisted that I had the right to confront my accuser. He had no idea what to say to this ridiculous, but official sounding charge, so he just told me that I could not do so. I asked why not. He said because. Blah blah blah.
At any rate, I eventually told him that I was offended by the pictures on his door (of photocopied Star Wars characters, one with a light saber) and said that he had to take his pictures down if I had to. He replied that there was nothing I could possibly be offended by, thus he would do no such thing. That’s when I nailed him. “But I am very sensitive to depictions of violence, and these pictures are upsetting to me because of the fighting portrayed.” Oh shit. He had no idea what to say to that. He just stood there with his mouth hanging open while I said I planned to report him to the building manager. The sad conclusion to the story is that the building manager moved him off my floor at the end of the semester because he could not handle me. (Really, he should have been fired for being an incompetent ass, but NYU management loves idiots.) To remain in housing, Dianne and I drew fig leaves and taped them over the crotches of our naked men and pretended to be incensed that we were so wrongfully censored.
Damn, that makes me laugh.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
More about bruises
As I mentioned yesterday, I was setting up a new computer at my desk in my un-air conditioned cubicle that I share with another co-worker, when it slipped out of my sweaty little hands and fell on my foot. Immediately, a bruise and a bump appeared, so I put together an ice pack. By the end of the day, the swelling was down, and just the bruise remained.
Today the bruise has spread out over a larger part of my foot and is slowly creeping up three of my toes. The color ranges from a reddish purple to dark purple to blue to greyish yellow. Every hour or so, it changes just a bit, whether in hue or area. This is what I like about bruises - they are always changing. If you are bored, a bruise is way more fascinating to watch than paint drying.
I'm just saying.
Today the bruise has spread out over a larger part of my foot and is slowly creeping up three of my toes. The color ranges from a reddish purple to dark purple to blue to greyish yellow. Every hour or so, it changes just a bit, whether in hue or area. This is what I like about bruises - they are always changing. If you are bored, a bruise is way more fascinating to watch than paint drying.
I'm just saying.
Who are the people in your neighborhood?
Some time ago, I wrote about how much I liked living in our typical Upper West Side of Manhattan apartment. It is cluttered with random books, newspapers, magazines, strange decorations (like Husband’s disturbing movie poster from the Burt Reynolds’ movie Paternity, featuring Burt posing like Uncle Sam, except with his track shirt halfway unzipped to expose his manly chest hairs, and the slogan, “He wants you to have his baby, and my giant Vienna Beef hot dog poster, depicting a ginormous hot dog covering Navy pier with a helicopter dropped a hot pepper on it and a fire boat spraying it with mustard) and random ephemera, such as my Kinder Egg toy collection, which I hope to some day turn into a glorious home-based museum. Plus we’ve got all our moderate-liberal paraphernalia sprinkled about here and there. Again, it’s historically typical stuff for an Upper West Side apartment. No big deal.
Lately, though, I have been increasingly displeased with changes that are going on the neighborhood. Several of my favorite reasonable restaurants have lost leases as gentrification, a process long in the making, speeds up exponentially. My gym (granted, an expensive gym that we happen to have discounts for), the low key pool hall above it where I re-learned to play darts (my favorite bar game!), and the parking garage and take-out chicken place next door are all scheduled for the wrecking ball come November. This would be OK if they were being torn down for some affordable housing, which the neighborhood badly needs, but unfortunately, it is to create more luxury condos. I hate luxury condos and even more, I hate the people who live in them. Now I will have even more assholes for neighbors.
This all crystallized for me last night, when Husband discovered a box of “City Walks: New York” cards under some clutter that he was re-organizing. To distract myself from the self-pitying funk that envelopes me at night these days, I dove in. The box has 50 cards, each with a short walk through a neighborhood in the City, including ones in Brooklyn, Queens, and the Bronx, of which I enthusiastically approve. Card #31 is titled, “Upper West Side 2: Haute Bourgeois Broadway.” The subtitle is, “Once known for its concentration of left-wing politicos, Upper Broadway is now the capital of the SUV and the double stroller.” Ouch! The sad thing is how true it is. Worse is when the two are combined - if I see one more fucking sidewalk-hogging $679 Bugaboo stroller (and that’s the cheap one; it’s $750 for the “mid-range” and $879 for the “luxury” ride) pushed by an underpaid nanny, I will scream.
Well, at least there are some new households here that desperately cling to the ways of the olden days. Walter Mondale, any one?
Lately, though, I have been increasingly displeased with changes that are going on the neighborhood. Several of my favorite reasonable restaurants have lost leases as gentrification, a process long in the making, speeds up exponentially. My gym (granted, an expensive gym that we happen to have discounts for), the low key pool hall above it where I re-learned to play darts (my favorite bar game!), and the parking garage and take-out chicken place next door are all scheduled for the wrecking ball come November. This would be OK if they were being torn down for some affordable housing, which the neighborhood badly needs, but unfortunately, it is to create more luxury condos. I hate luxury condos and even more, I hate the people who live in them. Now I will have even more assholes for neighbors.
This all crystallized for me last night, when Husband discovered a box of “City Walks: New York” cards under some clutter that he was re-organizing. To distract myself from the self-pitying funk that envelopes me at night these days, I dove in. The box has 50 cards, each with a short walk through a neighborhood in the City, including ones in Brooklyn, Queens, and the Bronx, of which I enthusiastically approve. Card #31 is titled, “Upper West Side 2: Haute Bourgeois Broadway.” The subtitle is, “Once known for its concentration of left-wing politicos, Upper Broadway is now the capital of the SUV and the double stroller.” Ouch! The sad thing is how true it is. Worse is when the two are combined - if I see one more fucking sidewalk-hogging $679 Bugaboo stroller (and that’s the cheap one; it’s $750 for the “mid-range” and $879 for the “luxury” ride) pushed by an underpaid nanny, I will scream.
Well, at least there are some new households here that desperately cling to the ways of the olden days. Walter Mondale, any one?
A Personal Dilemma
What do you do when you are really good at something – something that very few others excel at, even – and you kind of hate it? Worse, what happens when you are good at something that few others are and it is something that could benefit the public? Do you sacrifice your own happiness for the greater good? Also, aren’t you supposed to be happy when you do things that you are good at?
This is a big problem that has been plaguing me of late. OK, more than of late – I’ve probably been struggling with this issue for about two or three years. For as long as I can remember, I have been committed to working towards a better America for low income kids. I dropped out of Fordham Law School after only two days and attended grad school at Columbia instead to further my progress along this path. Ever since grad school, I worked to create more quality, affordable child care in New rk York City. Along the way, I developed highly specialized knowledge in child care facilities development and finance. People respect my thinking and ideas on the topic; my expertise. It is nice to be only 30 and be seen as an expert. At the same time, I also discovered that I really hate child care facilities and finance for a variety of reasons.
Sure, there are days and times when I am excited by what is going on and all the opportunities that seem to be cropping up of late. More often, however, I am just depressed by the moronic decisions, bureaucratic inertia, and general fear of change. Yet every time I am on the verge of walking away from it all, I find myself distraught. Who else will do this? I’m good at it, damn it, and these kids need all the support they can get, even if they never know that people like me are out there for them. There are some great people out there that I would miss working with, and what else could I do, anyway? It's not like I have a back-up career. The guilt and doubt kick in, and it kills me just as much as my general unhappiness in my field does.
Damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.
This is a big problem that has been plaguing me of late. OK, more than of late – I’ve probably been struggling with this issue for about two or three years. For as long as I can remember, I have been committed to working towards a better America for low income kids. I dropped out of Fordham Law School after only two days and attended grad school at Columbia instead to further my progress along this path. Ever since grad school, I worked to create more quality, affordable child care in New rk York City. Along the way, I developed highly specialized knowledge in child care facilities development and finance. People respect my thinking and ideas on the topic; my expertise. It is nice to be only 30 and be seen as an expert. At the same time, I also discovered that I really hate child care facilities and finance for a variety of reasons.
Sure, there are days and times when I am excited by what is going on and all the opportunities that seem to be cropping up of late. More often, however, I am just depressed by the moronic decisions, bureaucratic inertia, and general fear of change. Yet every time I am on the verge of walking away from it all, I find myself distraught. Who else will do this? I’m good at it, damn it, and these kids need all the support they can get, even if they never know that people like me are out there for them. There are some great people out there that I would miss working with, and what else could I do, anyway? It's not like I have a back-up career. The guilt and doubt kick in, and it kills me just as much as my general unhappiness in my field does.
Damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Dear Elexa: I'm sorry I was so mean (although I stand by some of my charges)
In response to my rant about Elexa and gendered marketing, both Impossible Jane and Logan Levkoff made a very important point: that the most important result is that more women use condoms regularly. Logan even pointed out that Elexa is supposed to be shelved with tampons, pads, and other women’s “hygiene” products in stores so that women would be more encouraged to purchase them. Thus my ire in this case should really be directed at women, not Elexa. It is women who are demanding gendered marketing, and Elexa is merely responding to that desire, so to speak. It still annoys me that the burden of protection falls once again on women and men are not responsible, but if women are going to be idiots and have sex with men who refuse to buy condoms, then I would rather have them take care of themselves. I have long said that women will never be equal to men as long as most of us don’t want equality. This just seems to be one of those instances. Sigh.
Anyway, Logan also pointed out that Elexa is supposed to be shelved separately from the other condoms so that women will be more likely to buy them. Thus far, though, I have only seen Elexa up by the pharmacy counter, one the opposite end of the shelf with “regular” condoms, near the pregnancy tests. Elexa has to do a bit more educating of the pharmacies if they want to reach their goals. I do believe that would be important; I’m not being sarcastic here.
This whole shelving issue reminds me of something horrifying that Big O told me while we were in a pharmacy a few weeks ago. He said that the Washington Post did a big expose on pharmacies (I think specifically CVS) and condoms in the DC-area. It turns out that condoms are easily accessible in suburban and upper income neighborhood pharmacies, where anyone can go and pluck a box off the shelf to purchase. However, in low income areas, pharmacies lock the condoms up behind the pharmacy counter, requiring people to ask for them and eliminating access completely when the pharmacy is closed.
CVS defended their grotesque actions by noting that they allow individual store managers to decide what items are at risk for shoplifting and to decide how to deal with it. I’m very curious if these pharmacies will treat Elexa the same way they hide away other condoms, or if the idea that only women will want them and that they belong with tampons changes things.
Anyway, Logan also pointed out that Elexa is supposed to be shelved separately from the other condoms so that women will be more likely to buy them. Thus far, though, I have only seen Elexa up by the pharmacy counter, one the opposite end of the shelf with “regular” condoms, near the pregnancy tests. Elexa has to do a bit more educating of the pharmacies if they want to reach their goals. I do believe that would be important; I’m not being sarcastic here.
This whole shelving issue reminds me of something horrifying that Big O told me while we were in a pharmacy a few weeks ago. He said that the Washington Post did a big expose on pharmacies (I think specifically CVS) and condoms in the DC-area. It turns out that condoms are easily accessible in suburban and upper income neighborhood pharmacies, where anyone can go and pluck a box off the shelf to purchase. However, in low income areas, pharmacies lock the condoms up behind the pharmacy counter, requiring people to ask for them and eliminating access completely when the pharmacy is closed.
CVS defended their grotesque actions by noting that they allow individual store managers to decide what items are at risk for shoplifting and to decide how to deal with it. I’m very curious if these pharmacies will treat Elexa the same way they hide away other condoms, or if the idea that only women will want them and that they belong with tampons changes things.
Quick Question
So let's say that you got into work and discovered that there was no air conditioning and then managed to spill a large cup of water on yourself and all over your desk. After mopping up the flood waters, you decide that you might as well assemble your new computer since you are not terribly busy until 10 and have been putting it off too long. Then you drop the computer on your foot and it turns black and blue immediately. So you put some ice on it and finish plugging everything into the machine: monitor, key board, LAN connection, power supply, only to realize that the power cord does not actually reach the outlet because you have a table at the back of someone else's cubicle.
At what point would you say fuck it and go home?
At what point would you say fuck it and go home?
Don't Forget to Wear a Hat on August 26 for Women's Equality DAY
Ladies, break out your dancing shoes and your finest frippery. August 26 is Women's Equality Day. As the National Women’s History Project explains, Women’s Equality Day came about through the efforts of Bella Abzug (known her feminism and giant hats) in 1971 to commemorate the 19th amendment, which passed eighty-six years ago this week. (Quick reminder: the 19th Amendment gave women the right to vote.) The suffragists’ struggles were well told in the fantastic HBO movie Iron Eagles, which made me cry when I saw it while I was working out at the gym. (So beware because there is the danger of falling off the treadmill in these situations. The movie also features ginormous hats.)
Hurray! We have a whole day for equality! Who would have thought it possible that, in the year of 2006, we’d have this day?!?
Yes, I am being completely facetious, but once in awhile I do stop and think that we’ve made some pretty damn impressive progress, much of it in the last 40 or so years. Is there a long way to go? Damn straight. Not to rain on the Women’s Equality Day parade, but my suspicion is that the interests of many women (i.e. – non-white, low income, non-hetero) are overlooked on this special day.
As I learned in my Yiddish phrase book yesterday, genug ist genug (enough is enough)! Still, the women who forged the path ahead of us deserve to be commemorated for their work and hat wearing on our behalf. In their honor, we should absolutely celebrate Women’s Equality Day - and I will do so by wearing a big hat with a gaudy flower - but we should also continue to move towards Everyone’s Equality Years.
Hurray! We have a whole day for equality! Who would have thought it possible that, in the year of 2006, we’d have this day?!?
Yes, I am being completely facetious, but once in awhile I do stop and think that we’ve made some pretty damn impressive progress, much of it in the last 40 or so years. Is there a long way to go? Damn straight. Not to rain on the Women’s Equality Day parade, but my suspicion is that the interests of many women (i.e. – non-white, low income, non-hetero) are overlooked on this special day.
As I learned in my Yiddish phrase book yesterday, genug ist genug (enough is enough)! Still, the women who forged the path ahead of us deserve to be commemorated for their work and hat wearing on our behalf. In their honor, we should absolutely celebrate Women’s Equality Day - and I will do so by wearing a big hat with a gaudy flower - but we should also continue to move towards Everyone’s Equality Years.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Look who's stylin' now...
Holy shit! My “look” is “in” this fall! My friend in London spotted the following article (“Throw Your Tweezers Away”) in the Aug. 17 issue of The New York Times:
Lesson: If you stick to your style long enough, it will become fashionable at some point in time, and probably many. There’s no need to alter yourself in some permanent manner to fit in. I bet all those ladies who had their eyebrows lasered off are kicking themselves about now. Some day this will also come to pass for the snatch patch.
“With a stronger, more graphic quality to the clothes like the fall collection from Balenciaga, you want strong eyebrows that make you look intelligent and empowered, and you want to keep the rest of the face clean,” Mr. Kaliardos said. For the fall advertising campaign for Chanel, for example, he strengthened the already well-endowed brows of Daria Werbowy, a Polish-born Canadian model, by shading them with an eyebrow pencil, but he left her other features almost unadorned, he said.Forget that I am never, ever going to be wearing anything from Balenciaga, let alone this fall. (Yeesh, I can barely get over the prices at Nanette Lapore. On eBay…) Or that I was momentarily overexcited by the title and thought that female beards are in style. The good news is that it is now considered stylish for me to go about my business as I normally do, which is with out-of-control eyebrows and no make-up.
Lesson: If you stick to your style long enough, it will become fashionable at some point in time, and probably many. There’s no need to alter yourself in some permanent manner to fit in. I bet all those ladies who had their eyebrows lasered off are kicking themselves about now. Some day this will also come to pass for the snatch patch.
Why am I not a host of "The View?"
Oh, Elisabeth Hasselbeck nee Filarski. You were so cute on Survivor, when you stuck to blathering on about things that involved immunity and gym shoe design. When you first were invited to be on The View, I did not understand why, but mostly you were quiet, so who cared? Now, you have made the mistake of so many before you (Debbie Matenopolous, anyone?) and decided to “share” your ideas and thoughts with the rest of the world. According to Entertainment Weekly:
On Aug. 2, she went off on an angry, sometimes incoherent tirade about the evils of the morning-after birth-control pill, to the point where Walters told her to calm down (from the Aug. 18 issue). [Man, I wish I saw that.]
Two days later, she revealed the harsh mistress beneath her genial thoughtlessness by telling an anecdote about encountering a babysitter whom Hasselbeck felt was neglecting her young charges on a New York City street. She freely admitted to yelling at the young woman and read a description of her (she'd taken notes!) so that the girl would be identified and fired... and so, presumably, would scores of other babysitters who may have fit that description. Woe unto you should you be the luckless waitress, taxi driver, or other service employee who does not behave as Ms. Hasselbeck thinks you should (from ew.com).
(Cue the many Survivor jokes here.) Please, for the sake of your job and my sanity (as it causes me immense psychic pain when incompetent stupid people get jobs that I will never be considered for, although I am far more articulate and intelligent than they are), shut the fuck up.
On Aug. 2, she went off on an angry, sometimes incoherent tirade about the evils of the morning-after birth-control pill, to the point where Walters told her to calm down (from the Aug. 18 issue). [Man, I wish I saw that.]
Two days later, she revealed the harsh mistress beneath her genial thoughtlessness by telling an anecdote about encountering a babysitter whom Hasselbeck felt was neglecting her young charges on a New York City street. She freely admitted to yelling at the young woman and read a description of her (she'd taken notes!) so that the girl would be identified and fired... and so, presumably, would scores of other babysitters who may have fit that description. Woe unto you should you be the luckless waitress, taxi driver, or other service employee who does not behave as Ms. Hasselbeck thinks you should (from ew.com).
(Cue the many Survivor jokes here.) Please, for the sake of your job and my sanity (as it causes me immense psychic pain when incompetent stupid people get jobs that I will never be considered for, although I am far more articulate and intelligent than they are), shut the fuck up.
Hard Work
Sometimes even the most offensive statements are hilarious, despite my dour humorless feminist beliefs, if said by the right person in the right way. Steph always seems to manage to inspire her co-workers to tell her terrible and obnoxious stories that under no circumstances would they normally repeat to anyone else, at work or not. The latest: her co-worker admitted that he once asked his girlfriend for a blow job, and when she said she didn’t feel like giving him one at the time, he said, “Too bad. That’s why they call it a job.”
OK, I would never, ever laugh at something so fucking patriarchal except that I couldn’t help it. It is just funny. Especially when Steph’s co-worker later complained that he didn’t want to do something , and she retorted, “That’s why they call it a job.”
OK, I would never, ever laugh at something so fucking patriarchal except that I couldn’t help it. It is just funny. Especially when Steph’s co-worker later complained that he didn’t want to do something , and she retorted, “That’s why they call it a job.”
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Meeting of the Minds
Des and her partner Craig came over this afternoon for a challenging, and yet hilarious, game of Trivial Pursuit with Husband and I. Husband made his world famous deep-dish pizza, and a jolly time was had by all. I am very glad that we were finally able to meet in person!
Husband gets credit for the zinger of the afternoon. A question was presented to Des about which science that is concerned with the universe. She correctly answered cosmology, but several jokes were cracked by all about the fine line between cosmology and cosmetology. Husband said that the cross enables one to advertise that “I can make Uranus look beautiful.” Ha ha ha ha. That is still cracking me up.
Another good question: What sport has snatches and jerks? The answer is weight-lifting, but I suspected snooker, which is my favorite ridiculously named British variation of pool. Doesn’t it seem like snooker should have snatches and jerks?
Husband gets credit for the zinger of the afternoon. A question was presented to Des about which science that is concerned with the universe. She correctly answered cosmology, but several jokes were cracked by all about the fine line between cosmology and cosmetology. Husband said that the cross enables one to advertise that “I can make Uranus look beautiful.” Ha ha ha ha. That is still cracking me up.
Another good question: What sport has snatches and jerks? The answer is weight-lifting, but I suspected snooker, which is my favorite ridiculously named British variation of pool. Doesn’t it seem like snooker should have snatches and jerks?
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Wedding Lions and Another Type of Meat
My friend Joyner’s wedding was tonight. It was in Flushing, Queens, so Dr. P, Dr. H, Husband, and I piled into Fred the Red and motored over the East River. It was tons of fun. Joyner is Chinese, and there was an awesome Lion Dance. 
A lion approaches the bait (the lettuce, not the couple)... 
They start munching! 
Happily "fed" lions, with some lettuce carnage visible on the floor.
Even better, it turns out that the Lion Dance performers were part of the Chinese Free Masons! What are the odds?!?! I was ecstatic. (I should not be so surprised, though. It seems that the Masons really are everywhere. No matter where I have been lately, be it Ocean City, NJ or Cedar Rapids, IA or Harlem, I keep passing Masons Lodges…)
On the way home, Dr. H told us about a recent traumatic experience she had at work. An extremely obese woman came into the hospital, and Dr. H needed to do a vaginal exam. Except that she had a very hard time finding the woman’s “vah-jay-jay,” as she put it so us lay folk could understand. She said the woman had a body mass index of 65, and she had to try and push aside layers of fat to do the exam. (She described this while making motions as if she were doing the breast stroke and swimming through a pool of lard.) The grossest thing of all was the large wad of toilet paper that she found trapped in the patient.
I forgot to ask her if the woman maintained her pubic hair, but I suspect the answer would have been no.
A lion approaches the bait (the lettuce, not the couple)... 
They start munching! 
Happily "fed" lions, with some lettuce carnage visible on the floor.Even better, it turns out that the Lion Dance performers were part of the Chinese Free Masons! What are the odds?!?! I was ecstatic. (I should not be so surprised, though. It seems that the Masons really are everywhere. No matter where I have been lately, be it Ocean City, NJ or Cedar Rapids, IA or Harlem, I keep passing Masons Lodges…)
On the way home, Dr. H told us about a recent traumatic experience she had at work. An extremely obese woman came into the hospital, and Dr. H needed to do a vaginal exam. Except that she had a very hard time finding the woman’s “vah-jay-jay,” as she put it so us lay folk could understand. She said the woman had a body mass index of 65, and she had to try and push aside layers of fat to do the exam. (She described this while making motions as if she were doing the breast stroke and swimming through a pool of lard.) The grossest thing of all was the large wad of toilet paper that she found trapped in the patient.
I forgot to ask her if the woman maintained her pubic hair, but I suspect the answer would have been no.
Rogaine sure is effective when you do not want it to be
I can’t believe I forgot to mention this in my post about chin hair, but what got me dwelling on the matter in the first place was something that Husband told Friends while they were visiting a few weeks ago. We were talking about weight loss and exercise, and Husband claimed that the only reason he decided to lose weight was so that his head would get smaller and result in a better hair coverage ratio. He insisted that he was disappointed to find that weight loss occurs uncontrolled across the entire body.
In another past unsuccessful attempt to increase the amount of beautiful red hair on his cute head, he used Rogaine. Usually, he forgot to tell me that he smeared up his pate with it, and when we went to bed, I would nuzzle his skull. Thus my belief that Rogaine does in face stimulate hair growth, albeit on my damn chin, not on his head.
In another past unsuccessful attempt to increase the amount of beautiful red hair on his cute head, he used Rogaine. Usually, he forgot to tell me that he smeared up his pate with it, and when we went to bed, I would nuzzle his skull. Thus my belief that Rogaine does in face stimulate hair growth, albeit on my damn chin, not on his head.
Friday, August 18, 2006
New at "Theo is America's Next Top Model"...
The writing staff of America's Next Top Model may be on strike, but on Wednesday morning, Theo and I tromped up to the Bronx to visit the Lourdes of America Shrine. We do not need a writing staff to create evocative photo shoots.
This afternoon, we head to Chinatown and then onto the Crocodile Lounge (dangerous!) in the East Village in the evening.
This afternoon, we head to Chinatown and then onto the Crocodile Lounge (dangerous!) in the East Village in the evening.
Hair Raising Dreams and Real Life Confessions
This morning, I met a friend for a quick, albeit humid, stroll. (I barely rounded ¾ of a mile and the sweat is sogging up my undies. I hate that., although it would be worse without a snatch patch to absorb some of it.) As we walked, she told me that she had a dream with my blog in it.
Picture it: {dream waves commence.} my friend, an attractive woman in her 30s with lovely streaked straight hair, is pulling it out in chunks. She visits a doctor, who diagnoses her with trichotillomania. He tells her that there is no cure for this disorder, so she should pick at her pubic hair instead of her head hair. No one will see her pubic hair anyway…
She returns home and checks out the latest action at CUSS. Coincidentally, I wrote about women suffering from trichotillomania who pull all their pubic hair out, leaving them bald as a baby. I say that this is disgusting and will attract (create?) pedophiles, vaginal diseases, and other untold horrors. {Dream waves end.}
This post is so meta! On the other hand, I feel a little bit guilty. I would never ridicule someone with a disease that cause her to have no pubes. Sure, I am mean and critical and mocking of women who go out of their way to have hot wax poured on their cooches, purposely endanger their poonanies with sharp razor blades, or subject their snatches to scary lazer beams that can burn and scar, but a disease is a disease.
(Confession time: I actually went through a period when I was in junior high and pulled my hair out. They took me to a dermatologist because they didn’t know that that their freak daughter was pulling it out and I sure as hell was not going to admit it. He diagnosed alopecia, an extreme allergy of sorts that causes one to shed her hair, and stuck my head under some special hair regenerating light. Fortunately, I was so mortified when my parents noticed that I had a bald spot, that I pretty much quit cold turkey and my hair grew back as thick and bushy as it was before I picked it. In my eighth grade graduation picture, my hair is a huge triangle shape that bleeds out of the frame.)
Picture it: {dream waves commence.} my friend, an attractive woman in her 30s with lovely streaked straight hair, is pulling it out in chunks. She visits a doctor, who diagnoses her with trichotillomania. He tells her that there is no cure for this disorder, so she should pick at her pubic hair instead of her head hair. No one will see her pubic hair anyway…
She returns home and checks out the latest action at CUSS. Coincidentally, I wrote about women suffering from trichotillomania who pull all their pubic hair out, leaving them bald as a baby. I say that this is disgusting and will attract (create?) pedophiles, vaginal diseases, and other untold horrors. {Dream waves end.}
This post is so meta! On the other hand, I feel a little bit guilty. I would never ridicule someone with a disease that cause her to have no pubes. Sure, I am mean and critical and mocking of women who go out of their way to have hot wax poured on their cooches, purposely endanger their poonanies with sharp razor blades, or subject their snatches to scary lazer beams that can burn and scar, but a disease is a disease.
(Confession time: I actually went through a period when I was in junior high and pulled my hair out. They took me to a dermatologist because they didn’t know that that their freak daughter was pulling it out and I sure as hell was not going to admit it. He diagnosed alopecia, an extreme allergy of sorts that causes one to shed her hair, and stuck my head under some special hair regenerating light. Fortunately, I was so mortified when my parents noticed that I had a bald spot, that I pretty much quit cold turkey and my hair grew back as thick and bushy as it was before I picked it. In my eighth grade graduation picture, my hair is a huge triangle shape that bleeds out of the frame.)
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Elexa Licks Balls (and Not in the Way They Wish)
The very first time I saw an ad for trojan Elexa, I hated it immediately. There is nothing that makes my blood boil more than companies who take a basic product - in this case a condom – and then package it and market it differently to men and women. Guess what? No matter who buys it – woman or man – it will be used the same way (including the possibility of water balloons or just plain balloons with spermicide – balloons hate sperm!). The hideous corporate need to squeeze every last fucking penny out of something by creating and then exploiting social differences between men and women drives me up the wall.
Here is their obnoxious blurb:
Even more annoying is that when I looked up “Trojan” at Drugstore.com, it only lists regular Trojans, although Elexa is made by Trojan. To find Elexa by Trojan, you must specifically type in Elexa. (I guess they didn’t want to scare the manly men away from their condoms, lest they see the special boxes and get worried that they are buying something from a "woman's perspective.") I looked it up so that I could compare prices, as I was certain that Elexa condoms would cost more than the same condoms in non-pretty boxes. I was wrong, but only because drugstore.com discounts Elexa at a higher rate (19%) than Trojans (13%-17%). Actually, the prices are very close, and sometimes Elexa costs more without the discount, and sometimes Trojans do. Very interesting. For example, Drugstore.com sells both Elexa and regular Trojan packages with a vibrating ring and condom for $9.99. Elexa Stimulating Lubricant are $9.99 and Trojan with “Warm Sensations Lubricant,” which I assume is the same thing or similar enough – I mean, how many random sensation lubricants can they have? – are $10.49. Both types come (or at least that is the plan, wink wink) with 12 condoms. Trojans, however, are available in a economy pack of 36 for a mere $17-$19, while Elexa max out at 12. I guess women are just getting it less often. (If you need more than 12 at a time, you must be a total slut!) Whatever.
However, I tried very hard to like Elexa. Sure, it also annoyed me that the mere creation of condoms from “a woman’s perspective” seemed to once again put the onus for protection on women, as usual. (And, yes, it is smart to be prepared, but don’t fuck a dude who can’t even be bothered to pick up some dick socks, no matter how damn hot he is. Is that not the ultimate sign of laziness?) They are not charging women more to buy condoms than men, as so many products get away with. Most important, Elexa is a sponsor of BlogHer. I love BlogHer! They have many talented women writing on their site and even let little old me write things for them. Elexa also has its own blog, in which they hired some really great women to write for, even if it has the most gag-inducing title in the world, Sexy Smart. The women who write for it are honest and funny and full of great information. Just because it is corporate-sponsored, should I dis it? Also because its logo is an anorexic white chick in a dress with the front slit down to what would be her belly button except that she has the longest torso ever and a skirt that would be cootie-exposing on any real woman? No! I tried to keep an open mind. It is good, I told myself over and over.
What threw me over the edge into hating Elexa forever was their attempt at BlogHer swag. All of the BlogHer 06 attendees received a free t-shirt. This would be cool except that usually, when companies give out free t-shirts, they give out ones that are size large so that a wide range of people can wear their ads proudly. Short people like me can just cut the bottom of the shirt off or opt to wear it as a dress. Tall people can wear them without exposing their midriffs. Thin, overweight, and in-between people can all partake in the group t-shirt experience. It is good.
Elexa, however, only distributed very fitted tees in a size small. I heard many, many women complain that this shirt did not fit them, and was something they could ever wear out in public, if at all, because it was so ridiculously small. Thus this strategy indicates to me is that Elexa only wants a particular type of women to be seen in public advertising their product. That type of woman should resemble as much as possible the stick figure that is their logo. Everyone knows that fat women cannot possibly be sexy, right?
Fuck you Elexa. You are neither Sexy or Smart, which is a major bummer because the blog, once you get past all the pink and purple (a color scheme obviously chosen for its femininity), is pretty damn good. You almost had me in your evil corporate-profit-increasing clutches!
Here is their obnoxious blurb:
ELEXA™(For the record, I copied this blurb exactly – it said “A Women’s Perspective,” not the grammatically correct “A Woman’s Perspective,” but perhaps drugstore.com was at fault, not Elexa.) As far as I can tell, it is just a fucking condom. What is the difference between Elexa and any other Trojan condom? What exact “woman’s perspective” are these advertising nutjobs talking about? Oh, wait. I see. It is a pretty box... Women, if you are too fucking self-conscious to buy a regular box of condoms, I suggest that you are probably not mature enough to be having sex in the first place. Grow the fuck up! Just because it is in a “pretty” or “sexy” box does not mean that you are getting a better product.
A Women's Perspective by Trojan®
Enjoy the freedom to focus more completely on the pleasure of intimacy. ELEXA™ is a premium line of sexual well-being products created from a woman's perspective and designed to help you realize a more fulfilling sex life.
Even more annoying is that when I looked up “Trojan” at Drugstore.com, it only lists regular Trojans, although Elexa is made by Trojan. To find Elexa by Trojan, you must specifically type in Elexa. (I guess they didn’t want to scare the manly men away from their condoms, lest they see the special boxes and get worried that they are buying something from a "woman's perspective.") I looked it up so that I could compare prices, as I was certain that Elexa condoms would cost more than the same condoms in non-pretty boxes. I was wrong, but only because drugstore.com discounts Elexa at a higher rate (19%) than Trojans (13%-17%). Actually, the prices are very close, and sometimes Elexa costs more without the discount, and sometimes Trojans do. Very interesting. For example, Drugstore.com sells both Elexa and regular Trojan packages with a vibrating ring and condom for $9.99. Elexa Stimulating Lubricant are $9.99 and Trojan with “Warm Sensations Lubricant,” which I assume is the same thing or similar enough – I mean, how many random sensation lubricants can they have? – are $10.49. Both types come (or at least that is the plan, wink wink) with 12 condoms. Trojans, however, are available in a economy pack of 36 for a mere $17-$19, while Elexa max out at 12. I guess women are just getting it less often. (If you need more than 12 at a time, you must be a total slut!) Whatever.
However, I tried very hard to like Elexa. Sure, it also annoyed me that the mere creation of condoms from “a woman’s perspective” seemed to once again put the onus for protection on women, as usual. (And, yes, it is smart to be prepared, but don’t fuck a dude who can’t even be bothered to pick up some dick socks, no matter how damn hot he is. Is that not the ultimate sign of laziness?) They are not charging women more to buy condoms than men, as so many products get away with. Most important, Elexa is a sponsor of BlogHer. I love BlogHer! They have many talented women writing on their site and even let little old me write things for them. Elexa also has its own blog, in which they hired some really great women to write for, even if it has the most gag-inducing title in the world, Sexy Smart. The women who write for it are honest and funny and full of great information. Just because it is corporate-sponsored, should I dis it? Also because its logo is an anorexic white chick in a dress with the front slit down to what would be her belly button except that she has the longest torso ever and a skirt that would be cootie-exposing on any real woman? No! I tried to keep an open mind. It is good, I told myself over and over.
What threw me over the edge into hating Elexa forever was their attempt at BlogHer swag. All of the BlogHer 06 attendees received a free t-shirt. This would be cool except that usually, when companies give out free t-shirts, they give out ones that are size large so that a wide range of people can wear their ads proudly. Short people like me can just cut the bottom of the shirt off or opt to wear it as a dress. Tall people can wear them without exposing their midriffs. Thin, overweight, and in-between people can all partake in the group t-shirt experience. It is good.
Elexa, however, only distributed very fitted tees in a size small. I heard many, many women complain that this shirt did not fit them, and was something they could ever wear out in public, if at all, because it was so ridiculously small. Thus this strategy indicates to me is that Elexa only wants a particular type of women to be seen in public advertising their product. That type of woman should resemble as much as possible the stick figure that is their logo. Everyone knows that fat women cannot possibly be sexy, right?
Fuck you Elexa. You are neither Sexy or Smart, which is a major bummer because the blog, once you get past all the pink and purple (a color scheme obviously chosen for its femininity), is pretty damn good. You almost had me in your evil corporate-profit-increasing clutches!
Dear Jim Leach: I'm Sorry
All right, I feel bad for being so mean to Jim Leach in an earlier post. According to Wikipedia, Jim Leach is actually a decent guy who happens to be a Repugnantcan:
Leach is consistently one of the most liberal Republicans in the House. He voted against the 2002 Iraq War Resolution and favors abortion rights. He supports strong environmental measures. He was the only House Republican to vote against the 2003 tax cut. His district is considered Iowa's most Democratic district and became even more Democratic after redistricting in 2000. His hometown of Davenport was moved to Jim Nussle's district, forcing Leach to move to Iowa City. He faced his closest contest ever, winning by only four percentage points. Leach is a member of many moderate/liberal Republican groups such as the Republican Main Street Partnership (which supports Stem-cell research) The Republican Majority For Choice and Republicans for Choice (both support upholding Roe v. Wade), Republicans for Environmental Protection and Its My Party Too.In other words, he’s the type of Republican that I think makes government work because he is reasonable, but also serves as a bit of a balance.
Despite having served on then-Congressman Donald Rumsfeld's staff in the mid-1960's and later working with both Rumsfeld and Dick Cheney in the Nixon administration, Leach has been one of the few Republicans in congress reluctant to support continued expansion of the US military role in Iraq.
Getting (Un)Shaved at Salon
Not that I have not said this about 7,564 times in the last week, but people are fucking crazy! Have you seen some of the insane shit that people are saying about unshaved snatch over at Salon?!? There are over 330 comments regarding the etiquette of asking your girlfriend to shave her crotch. (Of course, I added my two cents and encouraged people to join the Campaign. As far as I can tell, my offer has gone unaccepted! The nerve...) For example, here is this brilliant insight from “Married Guy:”
Oh, help me:
From Player:
Here is an equal opportunity shaver:
Also, should you really toy with Mother Nature just cause it is “the big fashion craze?” I’m only 30, but I’ve seen many fads come and go. Permanently removing pubic hair with lasers seems like a very draconian solution. What will Slamboni and the others do if big bush (not big Bush) comes back in style? They’ll be left behind, naked and cold.
So sad, but to end it on a high note, I’ll quote thekiti: “…if you're that concerned about Big Bad Germs, don't ever kiss anyone. The mouth is filthier than the genitalia, by far.” You tell it to ‘em!
I believe it's about personal choice. So if you want to have a hairy vagina - go ahead - but ask yourself why you don't have a hairy face too.Why don’t I have a hairy face? (Actually, I kind of do, but that is beside the point.) Um, because it is not typical for grown women to have huge bushy beards and it is typical human development for grown women to have “hairy vaginas?” Where did this guy learn biology?
Oh, help me:
You wouldn't dump a guy who asks you to put your hair up instead of wearing it down. Why dump men who prefer a closely groomed pubic region over a haphazard, wild bush?I love how this anonymous guy equates putting my hair up in a pony tail with having hot wax poured on my crotch or scraping a razor blade over a sensitive area. And I actually might dump a man who kept telling me how to wear the hair on my head. If he doesn't like my style, he should find someone else who fits his ideals a bit better. (Fortunately for me, Husband seems to find my dowdiness endearing.)
From Player:
Asking a woman to shave can be a very mild dominance game. The last time I played that game was a number of years ago -- long before it became a fad…Each of the times I tried it, I found that the woman became incredibly aroused and preoccupied with sex for weeks. (You have to be careful what you wish for).Thank goodness its just about domination, not about making women resemble 9 year olds or accusing them of being dirty and smelly. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that S&M is bad, but this just sounds creepy and fucked up.
Here is an equal opportunity shaver:
My answer to Cary is to get rid of it all! It's gross! I'm a guy and I shave ALL the hair off! It's effin' gross and unsanitary. I've shaved and had lazer done on my bush/now not a bush and have no regrets. Cleaner and more erotic, to be honest. For sure I prefer bush-less women! (not to get political-but pun intended!). In Portland here the big fashion craze is shaving it ALL OFF both guys and gals. The alternative newsweekly here Willamette Week even did a cover story on it awhile back, naming all the hip places to be de-pubed.I respect Slamboni for putting his money where his mouth is, so to speak, and also for his anti-Bush joke. Yet I cannot understand where people get the idea that pubes are unsanitary. It is quite the opposite. I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a thousand times: pubes are like eyelashes for the genitals, keeping the bad things out.
Also, should you really toy with Mother Nature just cause it is “the big fashion craze?” I’m only 30, but I’ve seen many fads come and go. Permanently removing pubic hair with lasers seems like a very draconian solution. What will Slamboni and the others do if big bush (not big Bush) comes back in style? They’ll be left behind, naked and cold.
So sad, but to end it on a high note, I’ll quote thekiti: “…if you're that concerned about Big Bad Germs, don't ever kiss anyone. The mouth is filthier than the genitalia, by far.” You tell it to ‘em!
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Unedible Nuts at the Iowa State Fair
State fairs are supposed to be all about fun. People go to them to see the latest in tractors, ginormous vegetables, impressive animals, the projects of overachieving 4-H kids, and most importantly, to eat things that are fried or on a stick, or even better, both fried and on a stick. We do not go to them to be brainwashed. Or at least I don’t.
Imagine my horror when I passed by this scary booth:
Worse, it was innocuously wedged between a display of whirlpools (for some reason, there were many such displays – hot tubs seem to be the coolest thing in Iowa after tractors and combines) and vacuum cleaners in the Varied Industries Building!!! What does crazy zealot brainwashing have to do with industry? Unless, of course, the state of Iowa is suggesting that the business of denying scientific evidence like evolution has grown into an industry. (And they would be correct in that suggestion.) I was completely offended. If I want to be offended, I watch Fox News. I don’t need to see this shit at a fucking state fair! I want pig races and other entertainment. Bah.
Just as I was calming down about the religious nutjobs, I saw something even worse:
You can imagine the scene I wanted to cause. First, I wanted to point out that if you are printing ginormous, factually incorrect propaganda, get your fucking punctuation correct. The asterisk that footnotes whatever bullshit study you invented does not go before the 94%, it goes after it. Stupid fucks can’t get anything right, can they? I was tempted to tell them that there was a booth selling fried aborted fetuses on sticks, and that the teensy skulls have a nice crunch to ‘em. Then again, you never know how these life-loving loons might react. I could easily get shot and killed. I have found that anti-choice folks don’t have great senses of humor. Saving souls is fucking hard, serious work, you know? Maybe they should be outside the general store, protesting the hanging of the doll.
Speaking of the death of thousands of innocent people, I found this attraction at the carnival section of the fair to be in rather poor taste, albeit hilarious:
I don’t think it is clear, but the kids climb up the middle section of the angled, sinking, inflated Titanic in a section marked “first-class only” and then slide down the deck. Who the hell thought of this? I admit it is sort of genius, although the class issue annoys me. (All the steerage folks of course were locked underground and drown like rats.)
Also on the offensive yet funny side:
Sure, you can get a nice fountain, but why not go for broke and put your very own statue of a Vietnam vet on your lawn? (That is what the sign identifies this extremely white soldier as.) He's fending off the gooks for you and making the world safe for the George W. Bushes of the world to fuck up. What scares me are the people who actually do think that this is a great lawn decoration. They are usually those militant types I try to avoid, not to stereotype or anything.
Thus concludes my overview of my time at the Iowa State Fair. It’s been fun for me, and I hope you feel the same.
Imagine my horror when I passed by this scary booth:
Worse, it was innocuously wedged between a display of whirlpools (for some reason, there were many such displays – hot tubs seem to be the coolest thing in Iowa after tractors and combines) and vacuum cleaners in the Varied Industries Building!!! What does crazy zealot brainwashing have to do with industry? Unless, of course, the state of Iowa is suggesting that the business of denying scientific evidence like evolution has grown into an industry. (And they would be correct in that suggestion.) I was completely offended. If I want to be offended, I watch Fox News. I don’t need to see this shit at a fucking state fair! I want pig races and other entertainment. Bah.Just as I was calming down about the religious nutjobs, I saw something even worse:
You can imagine the scene I wanted to cause. First, I wanted to point out that if you are printing ginormous, factually incorrect propaganda, get your fucking punctuation correct. The asterisk that footnotes whatever bullshit study you invented does not go before the 94%, it goes after it. Stupid fucks can’t get anything right, can they? I was tempted to tell them that there was a booth selling fried aborted fetuses on sticks, and that the teensy skulls have a nice crunch to ‘em. Then again, you never know how these life-loving loons might react. I could easily get shot and killed. I have found that anti-choice folks don’t have great senses of humor. Saving souls is fucking hard, serious work, you know? Maybe they should be outside the general store, protesting the hanging of the doll.Speaking of the death of thousands of innocent people, I found this attraction at the carnival section of the fair to be in rather poor taste, albeit hilarious:
I don’t think it is clear, but the kids climb up the middle section of the angled, sinking, inflated Titanic in a section marked “first-class only” and then slide down the deck. Who the hell thought of this? I admit it is sort of genius, although the class issue annoys me. (All the steerage folks of course were locked underground and drown like rats.)Also on the offensive yet funny side:
Sure, you can get a nice fountain, but why not go for broke and put your very own statue of a Vietnam vet on your lawn? (That is what the sign identifies this extremely white soldier as.) He's fending off the gooks for you and making the world safe for the George W. Bushes of the world to fuck up. What scares me are the people who actually do think that this is a great lawn decoration. They are usually those militant types I try to avoid, not to stereotype or anything.Thus concludes my overview of my time at the Iowa State Fair. It’s been fun for me, and I hope you feel the same.
Iowa State Fair Highlights, Part II
Back to the chocurkey. 
I actually think that this looks a little like a turd molded into a turkey shape placed on a spray painted gold cardboard disk. Gobble gobble!
These are just cute.
No state or county fair is complete without ginormous vegetables and animals. Iowa did not disappoint when it came to the veggies.
The rabbits, however, were not so impressive (although they were damn cute!!!).
I mean, sure slightly under 18 lbs. sounds big for a rabbit, but last year at the North Carolina State Fair, I saw a 25 lb. Flemish giant. Tycho, my New Zealand white, is 13 lbs. sleek fur and muscle. I think Tycho can totally take down hat lame ass “Big Betty.”
The final highlights from the Iowa State Fair was spotted in the general store and in the Various Industries Building. As illustrated by this photo, the death penalty is not only barbaric for humans, but also for dolls.
Is this not freaky? If I were a five year old girl, I think seeing a doll hang from the rafters of the general store in a noose would give me nightmares. I’m surprised that it didn’t give me nightmares now. On the other hand, every home (or apartment, even if it is a 200 square foot studio like my first one was) needs an “Infrared Health Cabin.”
Hmmmm… is this not also known as a sauna? I like how they claim it can “balance” blood pressure (what the hell does that mean?) and lower your cholesterol. Is sweating your balls off really a way to lower cholesterol? If so, Husband, Brothers-in-Law (both of them, Sister’s Husband and Husband’s Brother), and various other men I know must have some of the lowest cholesterol known to man. At least it achieves something other than generating tons of laundry as they sweat through everything they own and change four times a day! Now if only sweatiness would reduce noxious gas emissions, they’d be set…
Stay tuned for the lowlights of the Iowa State Fair, including fanatics, lunatics, and zealots, plus one disturbing carnival attraction!
I actually think that this looks a little like a turd molded into a turkey shape placed on a spray painted gold cardboard disk. Gobble gobble! These are just cute.
No state or county fair is complete without ginormous vegetables and animals. Iowa did not disappoint when it came to the veggies.
The rabbits, however, were not so impressive (although they were damn cute!!!).
I mean, sure slightly under 18 lbs. sounds big for a rabbit, but last year at the North Carolina State Fair, I saw a 25 lb. Flemish giant. Tycho, my New Zealand white, is 13 lbs. sleek fur and muscle. I think Tycho can totally take down hat lame ass “Big Betty.” The final highlights from the Iowa State Fair was spotted in the general store and in the Various Industries Building. As illustrated by this photo, the death penalty is not only barbaric for humans, but also for dolls.
Is this not freaky? If I were a five year old girl, I think seeing a doll hang from the rafters of the general store in a noose would give me nightmares. I’m surprised that it didn’t give me nightmares now. On the other hand, every home (or apartment, even if it is a 200 square foot studio like my first one was) needs an “Infrared Health Cabin.”
Hmmmm… is this not also known as a sauna? I like how they claim it can “balance” blood pressure (what the hell does that mean?) and lower your cholesterol. Is sweating your balls off really a way to lower cholesterol? If so, Husband, Brothers-in-Law (both of them, Sister’s Husband and Husband’s Brother), and various other men I know must have some of the lowest cholesterol known to man. At least it achieves something other than generating tons of laundry as they sweat through everything they own and change four times a day! Now if only sweatiness would reduce noxious gas emissions, they’d be set…Stay tuned for the lowlights of the Iowa State Fair, including fanatics, lunatics, and zealots, plus one disturbing carnival attraction!
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
New Unshaved Snatch Debate and Sticker Promo!
While I researching something for a BlogHer post that I am working on, found a link to a debate about unshaved snatch (All the guys I'm dating want me to shave down there - Doesn't anybody like the full bush anymore?) over at Salon. (Unless you have an account, you'll have to view an ad before you can read the article and add your voice to the debate.)
This is the perfect opportunity to preview my new Campaign for Unshaved Snatch (CUSS) stickers.
(Thanks to Tara Lynch for her awesome design!) They are being printed as we speak, so if you want some, email me at cussandotherrants@gmail.com and let me know where to mail them.
Pro-bush, but anti-Bush! Resist the mass of hairless lemmings!
This is the perfect opportunity to preview my new Campaign for Unshaved Snatch (CUSS) stickers.
(Thanks to Tara Lynch for her awesome design!) They are being printed as we speak, so if you want some, email me at cussandotherrants@gmail.com and let me know where to mail them.Pro-bush, but anti-Bush! Resist the mass of hairless lemmings!
Some Highlights of the Iowa State Fair
On Saturday, my sister, my brother-in-law (BiL), and I set out for the Iowa State Fair in Des Moines, which is about an hour and a half drive from their house. As we left a bit late, we were too hungry to wait to get to the Fair for lunch, so we stopped at a roadside Subway attached to a gas station. 
Kum & Go is also known to locals as “Ejaculate & Evaculate.” Ha ha ha. I love it.
After ingesting a low-fat sandwich, Diet Coke, and Baked Lays for lunch, I met my healthy obligations for the day and was ready for some serious Fair eating.
Pork chop on a stick? Count me in! 
Taking Bil’s advice, I put a little bit of Cookie’s BBQ sauce on the chop, and an equal amount on my shirt. 
YUM! It was tasty on the chop. (Not sure about my shirt, though.)
After the chop, we headed over to the Agricultural Building. Sister and BiL assured me that there were many samples to be had. We tried various jellies and honeys, which were delicious. I bought a Dark Sweet Cherry jam, which Sister must ship to me because I could not bring it onboard the plane thanks to the terrorists. The Ag Building also housed the butter sculptures.
Does anyone else find the butter cow slightly disturbing? I think it is the veiny udders and prominent ribs. I don’t hang out around many cows, so maybe I just don’t know what they truly look like, but this one is like some weird starving cow on the Ganges or an anorexic bovine. I just never picture cows with their ribs sticking out or bulging veins when I think about them. 
I like Superman and his butter bulge much better than the cow. (Sacrilege, I know!) Insert your own “melt in your mouth” joke here. 
I’m not sure who Mr. State Fair is, but he rounds off the troika of butter sculptures nicely. For some reason, I think he has something to do with the Riley of “The Life of Riley,” but like the anorexic cow, I could be making that up. On a final note regarding the butter sculptures, I was amused to see a book about Norma “Duffy” Lyon, the woman who has sculpted the butter statues at the Fair since 1960, was available to purchase.
The butter sculptures were not the only food art on display. Oh no siree! But I can’t seem to upload more pictures to Blogger at the moment, so this will need to suffice for now. As soon as it is working again, I’ll bring you the amazing (drumroll) chocturkey! (Oooooh! Aaaaah!)
Kum & Go is also known to locals as “Ejaculate & Evaculate.” Ha ha ha. I love it.After ingesting a low-fat sandwich, Diet Coke, and Baked Lays for lunch, I met my healthy obligations for the day and was ready for some serious Fair eating.
Pork chop on a stick? Count me in! 
Taking Bil’s advice, I put a little bit of Cookie’s BBQ sauce on the chop, and an equal amount on my shirt. 
YUM! It was tasty on the chop. (Not sure about my shirt, though.)After the chop, we headed over to the Agricultural Building. Sister and BiL assured me that there were many samples to be had. We tried various jellies and honeys, which were delicious. I bought a Dark Sweet Cherry jam, which Sister must ship to me because I could not bring it onboard the plane thanks to the terrorists. The Ag Building also housed the butter sculptures.
Does anyone else find the butter cow slightly disturbing? I think it is the veiny udders and prominent ribs. I don’t hang out around many cows, so maybe I just don’t know what they truly look like, but this one is like some weird starving cow on the Ganges or an anorexic bovine. I just never picture cows with their ribs sticking out or bulging veins when I think about them. 
I like Superman and his butter bulge much better than the cow. (Sacrilege, I know!) Insert your own “melt in your mouth” joke here. 
I’m not sure who Mr. State Fair is, but he rounds off the troika of butter sculptures nicely. For some reason, I think he has something to do with the Riley of “The Life of Riley,” but like the anorexic cow, I could be making that up. On a final note regarding the butter sculptures, I was amused to see a book about Norma “Duffy” Lyon, the woman who has sculpted the butter statues at the Fair since 1960, was available to purchase.The butter sculptures were not the only food art on display. Oh no siree! But I can’t seem to upload more pictures to Blogger at the moment, so this will need to suffice for now. As soon as it is working again, I’ll bring you the amazing (drumroll) chocturkey! (Oooooh! Aaaaah!)
Monday, August 14, 2006
Back in the Saddle
OK, after many airport delays, I made it home. As always, it is good and bad to be back. I am of course very happy to see Husband, friends, and rabbit, so that is good. On the other hand, I am forced to confront the lack of direction in my professional life these days, which is unfortunate. Oh well.
Anyway, to save money, I took the public bus back from the airport. The M60 is probably one of the worst, if not the worst, bus route in New York City, but it is only $2.00 (less if you have an unlimited Metrocard or put lots of money on your Metrocard at once and got a discount), so I was willing to put up with it. The main problem is that the bus does not run frequently enough, so large crowds of people with luggage begin to accumulate and then try to jam on the bus all at once. The second large problem is although the bus is specifically identified as a route to LaGuardia Airport (which is more or less the end/starting point), the idiots at the MTA (controlled by people in upstate New York who never ride buses, let alone in a big city) placed a type of bus in service that is no different from any other City bus. Meaning: nowhere to put luggage, so it clogs up the aisles, so no one can move around, so people are extra crabby. Plus it makes random stops on the way to and from the airport since it is a regular bus route, thus there are non-travelers who are just trying tot get to work or home or wherever who are stuck climbing over people’s suitcases to get the fuck on and off the bus. While I applaud the effort to have a cheap means of transportation to the airport, this is not urban planning at its finest.
While I was on the bus, an attractive young man sat (actually, smooshed is a more accurate description) on the bench next to me. I wriggled around a bit so that he would not be sitting on the sweater that I had tied around my waist, which had draped itself onto his seat in the nanoseconds between when its prior occupant stood up and he sat down. He must have misunderstood my action and thought I was attempting to as far away from him as I could (which would be about an inch) because he turned to me and politely said, “I’m sorry I smell like garbage, but I just got off of work.”
What depresses me a little is that I hadn’t even noticed, and even after he said that, I still did not smell anything out of the ordinary. Ah, home sweet home!
Anyway, to save money, I took the public bus back from the airport. The M60 is probably one of the worst, if not the worst, bus route in New York City, but it is only $2.00 (less if you have an unlimited Metrocard or put lots of money on your Metrocard at once and got a discount), so I was willing to put up with it. The main problem is that the bus does not run frequently enough, so large crowds of people with luggage begin to accumulate and then try to jam on the bus all at once. The second large problem is although the bus is specifically identified as a route to LaGuardia Airport (which is more or less the end/starting point), the idiots at the MTA (controlled by people in upstate New York who never ride buses, let alone in a big city) placed a type of bus in service that is no different from any other City bus. Meaning: nowhere to put luggage, so it clogs up the aisles, so no one can move around, so people are extra crabby. Plus it makes random stops on the way to and from the airport since it is a regular bus route, thus there are non-travelers who are just trying tot get to work or home or wherever who are stuck climbing over people’s suitcases to get the fuck on and off the bus. While I applaud the effort to have a cheap means of transportation to the airport, this is not urban planning at its finest.
While I was on the bus, an attractive young man sat (actually, smooshed is a more accurate description) on the bench next to me. I wriggled around a bit so that he would not be sitting on the sweater that I had tied around my waist, which had draped itself onto his seat in the nanoseconds between when its prior occupant stood up and he sat down. He must have misunderstood my action and thought I was attempting to as far away from him as I could (which would be about an inch) because he turned to me and politely said, “I’m sorry I smell like garbage, but I just got off of work.”
What depresses me a little is that I hadn’t even noticed, and even after he said that, I still did not smell anything out of the ordinary. Ah, home sweet home!
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Sunday in Iowa
I’m having trouble uploading my pictures, so I will have a big photo extravaganza when I return home tomorrow, as well as more details on the Iowa State Fair because the pictures really tell the story.
Today my sister and I drove to Kalona, which is a real Amish and Mennonite town. I use the word “real” because everything was closed there due to the Sabbath (as opposed to in Amana, another Amish area we visited, in which there is a charming-but-fake downtown that was open). Sister and I had a jolly old time driving around and stopping to pictures of some of the odder things that we saw, which I will post tomorrow. (Maybe I will even set up a long-overdue Flickr account…) Unfortunately, I did not get pictures of the two Amish horse-drawn buggies that crossed the road while we approached a stop sign. It was cool.
Sister also showed me where she worked, and then we went back to Iowa City to pick up her husband, who had stopped into his office to get some paperwork done. From there we headed to Amana, which was chock full of cheesy-homey things. We went to a few stores, where I picked up a small bottle of cranberry-plum wine (perfect for our second annual wine, cheese, and chocolate party in October), a piece of Iowa blue cheese, a “Dutch letter,” which is a flaky cookie shaped like an “S” that has almond paste in it. (Yum!!!) Next we went to the only working wool factory remaining in Iowa, and I bought a completely ridiculous hat with a stuffed bear head (fake, of course) on it for a mere $12.95. I am very excited to wear it around NYC in the winter, although if Husband wants it, he would look very cute in it and I will gladly hand it over.
Our final stop was the 31st annual sweet corn festival in Cedar Rapids. It is a fundraiser for St. Jude’s Catholic School, a cause I am not very supportive of, but I bought a hilarious t-shirt for $8. Corn was 3 for $1, and Sister bought six. They gave her seven. While we waited in the corn line, it began to rain, so we ate quickly under a tent and then brought the rest back with us. I must say that the corn was too mushy, not sweet, and had too much weird butter goo on it.
Before I fell asleep in the backseat on the ride home, we passed a corn field with a big billboard that read, “GOD IS PRO-LIFE. ARE YOU?” This made me wonder why so many women die giving birth around the world, as it does not seem very “pro-life” to me. What do I know, though?
Thus I am now back at Sister and Brother-in-Law’s cute condo, where we will eat dinner and watch some quality films (The Warriors is on tap!). Tomorrow my flight leaves at 8:30 am. While I had a GREAT time here, I am looking forward to seeing Husband and Tycho again.
Today my sister and I drove to Kalona, which is a real Amish and Mennonite town. I use the word “real” because everything was closed there due to the Sabbath (as opposed to in Amana, another Amish area we visited, in which there is a charming-but-fake downtown that was open). Sister and I had a jolly old time driving around and stopping to pictures of some of the odder things that we saw, which I will post tomorrow. (Maybe I will even set up a long-overdue Flickr account…) Unfortunately, I did not get pictures of the two Amish horse-drawn buggies that crossed the road while we approached a stop sign. It was cool.
Sister also showed me where she worked, and then we went back to Iowa City to pick up her husband, who had stopped into his office to get some paperwork done. From there we headed to Amana, which was chock full of cheesy-homey things. We went to a few stores, where I picked up a small bottle of cranberry-plum wine (perfect for our second annual wine, cheese, and chocolate party in October), a piece of Iowa blue cheese, a “Dutch letter,” which is a flaky cookie shaped like an “S” that has almond paste in it. (Yum!!!) Next we went to the only working wool factory remaining in Iowa, and I bought a completely ridiculous hat with a stuffed bear head (fake, of course) on it for a mere $12.95. I am very excited to wear it around NYC in the winter, although if Husband wants it, he would look very cute in it and I will gladly hand it over.
Our final stop was the 31st annual sweet corn festival in Cedar Rapids. It is a fundraiser for St. Jude’s Catholic School, a cause I am not very supportive of, but I bought a hilarious t-shirt for $8. Corn was 3 for $1, and Sister bought six. They gave her seven. While we waited in the corn line, it began to rain, so we ate quickly under a tent and then brought the rest back with us. I must say that the corn was too mushy, not sweet, and had too much weird butter goo on it.
Before I fell asleep in the backseat on the ride home, we passed a corn field with a big billboard that read, “GOD IS PRO-LIFE. ARE YOU?” This made me wonder why so many women die giving birth around the world, as it does not seem very “pro-life” to me. What do I know, though?
Thus I am now back at Sister and Brother-in-Law’s cute condo, where we will eat dinner and watch some quality films (The Warriors is on tap!). Tomorrow my flight leaves at 8:30 am. While I had a GREAT time here, I am looking forward to seeing Husband and Tycho again.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
First Look at the Butter Cow (and Super Hero Friend!)
More detailed pictures to come, but my camera is acting up and refusing to transfer them to the computer...
Red Hot State Fair Day
We are going tot the Iowa State Fair today! I am so excited! Butter cow, here we come!
I thought I would wear my new red PVC dress.
Just kidding! I might suffocate in it. But I do find it hilarious.
I thought I would wear my new red PVC dress.
Just kidding! I might suffocate in it. But I do find it hilarious.
Friday, August 11, 2006
Devastation in Iowa City
While I saw all sorts of good things in my meanderings about Iowa City, I also saw the very depressing downside of living in a flat state in the Midwest along tornado alley. Earlier this year, a quick succession of tornados tore through Iowa City and surrounding towns in one night. My sister and brother-in-law were very lucky. They did not hear about the tornado alert and were driving around running errands that night. When they got to a pharmacy, they were puzzled to see that the store was closing despite the early hour. The pharmacist stopped them as they were coming in and essentially asked them what the fuck they were doing going to the pharmacy when a tornado was heading right for town.
They drove home as fast as they could during the violent rain storm that proceeded the tornados. When they arrived, they grabbed their two cats and went into their basement, as any Midwesterner worth their salt would do. Since there is a huge plate glass window down there, they turned the volume up on the TV as loud as it would go and shut themselves in their windowless laundry room to wait it out, much to the protestations of the clueless cats.
Tornados are random. One side of a block can be devastated, but the other side can be perfectly unharmed. Fortunately, their entire townhouse complex was spared the wrath of Mother Nature. Homes a mere three blocks away, and all over spots of town, were not so lucky however. I took some pictures of the damage that I saw, but this is only a fraction of it.
The house below is actually a sorority house. In some ways, it is a little less of a tragedy because it is not like some family is homeless now, but it is still awful to see what happened. Importantly, no one was hurt. The women were all huddled in the basement like they should, and got out safely as a result. I think this is the worst structural damage that I saw, though, so they were really lucky to be unhurt. 
They drove home as fast as they could during the violent rain storm that proceeded the tornados. When they arrived, they grabbed their two cats and went into their basement, as any Midwesterner worth their salt would do. Since there is a huge plate glass window down there, they turned the volume up on the TV as loud as it would go and shut themselves in their windowless laundry room to wait it out, much to the protestations of the clueless cats.
Tornados are random. One side of a block can be devastated, but the other side can be perfectly unharmed. Fortunately, their entire townhouse complex was spared the wrath of Mother Nature. Homes a mere three blocks away, and all over spots of town, were not so lucky however. I took some pictures of the damage that I saw, but this is only a fraction of it.
The house below is actually a sorority house. In some ways, it is a little less of a tragedy because it is not like some family is homeless now, but it is still awful to see what happened. Importantly, no one was hurt. The women were all huddled in the basement like they should, and got out safely as a result. I think this is the worst structural damage that I saw, though, so they were really lucky to be unhurt. 
I Get It Now
In the movie version of the musical Annie, there is a scene where Daddy Warbucks’s secretary, whose name I of course cannot remember, shows Annie around the mansion she’ll be staying at for a week (in a PR attempt to spruce up Daddy Warbucks’s image). As Annie is whisked from room to room, she sings in response to everything she sees, “I think I’m gonna like it here.” I have had this song in my head since mid-morning, when I started walking around the town.
After spending time in downtown Iowa City today, I really understand why my sister loves living here and does not want to move, even though she has not been able to find the type of job that she sought for the past 4 or 5 years. It is completely charming and is jammed with cool stuff. I am sitting in the public library, which is huge and beautiful and is open at least 10 hours a day, seven days a week, and offers free wifi. (It is also not over-air conditioned, which is great because I am all sweaty from walking around with my laptop in my backpack in 98% humidity.) On my way to the library, I stopped in a funky basement store called Ragstock (which also has a location in Chiago that I haven’t been to in ages) and picked up a rocking red vinyl button down dress with zippered breast pockets for a mere $15. (I’m not sure what on earth I will do with it, but for 15 bucks, I couldn’t turn it down. I’m sure I can wear it to a theme party of some sort with my kick-ass knee high black boots, whenever one comes up.) It has lots of restaurants, including a Japanese place, a vegetarian Indian place, a non-vegetarian Indian place, and a Thai place. Not bad. I always forget that it is one of the best college towns I’ve ever visited.
The other great thing is that it is full of Democrats and liberals. On my walk from my sister’s house to downtown, I came across tons of lawn signs supporting the Democrat running against Jim Leach in November, and only one bumper sticker supporting him. Last election, a pediatrician named Julie something or other did very well. Not that Leach is the worst of the Repugnantcans, but still.) I also saw this bumper sticker on a rotting van:
A few minutes later, I reached the pedestrian mall and noticed these two gentlemen were standing in the thick humidity quietly protesting the war in Iraq: 
Cool. Back to the charming aspects (not that people who hate Bush are not cool), here are a few houses I passed on my walk: 
This is just one of the cute stone houses in a row of five. My sister and brother-in-law call them the “hobbit houses.” BiL says he always expects to see a hobbit come out. Incidentally, I noticed that one of the houses is for sale and called the real estate agency. The broker told me that the house is approximately 1200 square feet and the sellers are asking $118,000. Adorable!
Further down the same street is this house:
I have never seen such cool statues on a lawn before. On the side street by this house is this friendly sign: 
Also, the town has a cute brick synagogue that reminds me of an old fashioned schoolhouse (probably intentionally),
a storefront Eastern Orthodox Chapel, and a Maharishi Meditation center that is a full block amongst the numerous churches one might expect in Iowa.
The sidewalk where the edge of downtown meets the University of Iowa campus my sister’s alma mater) had a set of inlays describing the history of the state, which cracked me up. My favorite:
I am having a great time, and I have not even seen the butter cow at Iowa State Fair yet!
After spending time in downtown Iowa City today, I really understand why my sister loves living here and does not want to move, even though she has not been able to find the type of job that she sought for the past 4 or 5 years. It is completely charming and is jammed with cool stuff. I am sitting in the public library, which is huge and beautiful and is open at least 10 hours a day, seven days a week, and offers free wifi. (It is also not over-air conditioned, which is great because I am all sweaty from walking around with my laptop in my backpack in 98% humidity.) On my way to the library, I stopped in a funky basement store called Ragstock (which also has a location in Chiago that I haven’t been to in ages) and picked up a rocking red vinyl button down dress with zippered breast pockets for a mere $15. (I’m not sure what on earth I will do with it, but for 15 bucks, I couldn’t turn it down. I’m sure I can wear it to a theme party of some sort with my kick-ass knee high black boots, whenever one comes up.) It has lots of restaurants, including a Japanese place, a vegetarian Indian place, a non-vegetarian Indian place, and a Thai place. Not bad. I always forget that it is one of the best college towns I’ve ever visited.
The other great thing is that it is full of Democrats and liberals. On my walk from my sister’s house to downtown, I came across tons of lawn signs supporting the Democrat running against Jim Leach in November, and only one bumper sticker supporting him. Last election, a pediatrician named Julie something or other did very well. Not that Leach is the worst of the Repugnantcans, but still.) I also saw this bumper sticker on a rotting van:
A few minutes later, I reached the pedestrian mall and noticed these two gentlemen were standing in the thick humidity quietly protesting the war in Iraq: 
Cool. Back to the charming aspects (not that people who hate Bush are not cool), here are a few houses I passed on my walk: 
This is just one of the cute stone houses in a row of five. My sister and brother-in-law call them the “hobbit houses.” BiL says he always expects to see a hobbit come out. Incidentally, I noticed that one of the houses is for sale and called the real estate agency. The broker told me that the house is approximately 1200 square feet and the sellers are asking $118,000. Adorable!Further down the same street is this house:
I have never seen such cool statues on a lawn before. On the side street by this house is this friendly sign: 
Also, the town has a cute brick synagogue that reminds me of an old fashioned schoolhouse (probably intentionally),
a storefront Eastern Orthodox Chapel, and a Maharishi Meditation center that is a full block amongst the numerous churches one might expect in Iowa.The sidewalk where the edge of downtown meets the University of Iowa campus my sister’s alma mater) had a set of inlays describing the history of the state, which cracked me up. My favorite:
I am having a great time, and I have not even seen the butter cow at Iowa State Fair yet!
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