A Slightly More Chipper Take on the New Year

This post originally appeared on January 1 at The Dana Files as part of the Blog Exchange. I just like it a lot, and want to have it up here, too. What can I say?

Many people dislike change. They feel it weighs down their pockets, causes unmanageable bulges in their wallets, or makes too much noise as it clangs together. My husband is one of those people. At the end of the day, he clears all his accumulated change and throws it into our household piggy bank. (He does, however, relish counting change, rolling it in money wrappers, and bringing it to the bank for large deposits.)

I love change. There is something appealing to me about having a variety of quarters, dimes, nickels, and even pennies at my disposal. The different sizes, colors, and weights of coins are romantic in a way, and soothing. If someone offered me a choice between a c-note or shiny quarter, I'd take the bill (I love change, but am not blinded by it!), but in my heart of hearts, I'd crave the heft of the coin. When people discuss abolishing pennies, I am filled with horror and sadness. All change has its place and usefulness. What would "penny candy" taste like if bought for a nickel? (OK, I concede that "penny candy" is not widely, if at all, available these days, but throw me a bone here.) Paying for anything with exact change delights me. Sure, it might annoy the less patient people waiting in line as I fumble for 67 cents, but I derive immense satisfaction from the transaction.

In the fall of 2006, I made a big, scary, and exciting change in my life when I quit my job as a senior program officer at a nonprofit financial institution to try to make it as a writer. So far, it has been a wonderful experience, but as a fiercely independent woman, I am uncomfortable about contributing no real income to my household. Whenever I fret about what 2007 will bring, I reach into the coin purse attached to my wallet and I scoop out a hand full of change. Holding a small amount of solid coins in my hand reminds me that change may come and go, but it will always exist. In the end, I'll be OK.

Something's Rotten in the State of Denmark

Dear Underwear Manufacturers*:

I know know that you think it is "cheeky" to cut the butts on your product narrowly so that my ass hangs out a bit when I wear underwear. You are wrong. It is, instead, uncomfortable and annoying, and the leading cause of wedgies. I am wearing underwear, including briefs which in theory offer more coverage, for a reason. That reason is that I do not want my ass hanging out. If I wanted my ass hanging out, I would wear a thong or g-string. Or I would wear no underwear at all.

Please put the full ass cut back in your products. Thank you.

Sincerely,
Suzanne Reisman

*Except for Jockey and Hanes Her Way Hipsters. These have very nice asses. However, if you can please use cotton that is not so thin that I can see what I ate for breakfast through them, I would be very appreciative. You used to use thicker cotton. You also recently raised your prices. I am not sure why I should pay more money for lower quality fabric. Unless I am paying for the extra centimeters that provide full ass coverage. Then it is OK. Although I'd pay even more if the undies were not made of some sort of cotton-gassamer blend.

Good Times in 2003

Husband's friend called a few nights ago to ask us what he and his wife should do while they are in Buenos Aires for vacation. Back in Jan. 2004, Husband, Stupid McFuck, and I joined Dr. P in her motherland for 6 days of one of the most relaxing vacations I ever went on. Since I could not remember what the hell we did except eat a lot of really delicious food and wander around, I looked back at our pictures from the trip. This led me to also view pictures of a roadtrip that Husband and I took in Oct. 2003 to Massachusetts and upstate NY. Here are some from the zoo, where the awesome wife of another one of Husband's friend's worked:
This is Husband in the giraffe compound. We were able to pet the giraffe, which was very cool. Little hairs were stuck to my hand when I was done. I didn't expect that.
Somehow, despite my awful hair, puckery eyes that look like I'm in some Dutch Renaissance painting, and retainer, I did not scare away all the butterflies. Thank goodness I finally cut my hair short, no matter how many people tell me I look butch!This is at the TePee, a tourist trap from the 1950s that is dying thanks to the NYS Thruway. I loved it there especially because there was a chili stand as well, run by a character with the nom de guerre "TePee Pete." The chili kicked major ass. I also bought some strangely delicious salsa. Now that Husband and I have a car, I hope to go back there this summer, assuming it is still around.

Husband and I sure have some good times. It makes me smile to think about them.

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire!

A few weeks ago, a "nonpartisan" book came out called "Who Really Cares: The Surprising Truth About Compassionate Conservatism" by Arthur C. Brooks. I was asked to look at this book and write about it by a friend who is starting his own magazine. Every time I touch this book, though, I feel like my soul just got a new stain on it.

The book is a great reminder of why I loathe conservative firebrands. They have a very special knack for looking at data, claiming to analyze it, hiding the figures at the back of the book, and then writing a book in which the data supports nothing they say it does. There is a word for this, and it is lying.

For example, look at this chart, which I copied directly from page 192. (I'll wait...)

OK, does that chart indicate that liberals are less generous than conservatives, as Mr. Brooks claims in his book? No it does not. It says that religious conservatives and religious liberals are equally involved with charity. It says that secular liberals are less involved in charity than religious folks, and it demonstrates that secular conservatives are the biggest fucking assholes on the planet. Overall, I am going to have to say that this chart does not support Mr. Brooks's point in the least. Not that it did not stop him from saying that it did.

And that, folks, what I call a lie. Or as Colbert would say, an "untruthiness."

Happy Birthday Mom!

Sixty years ago today, my granny braved a blizzard in Chicago and delivered a baby girl by c-section after the kid's nose got hooked on her tail bone and she couldn't be forced out. Can you believe that the person who wears this t-shirt out in public is 60 years old?Just in case the flash created too much glare from the glitter print and the message is not readable in the pic, it says: "Sex is a misdemeanor. De-More I Miss, De-Meaner I get." Ha ha ha. That cracks me up. She wore this shirt all the time when I was a kid. See? I am so easily explained....

Happy birthday, Mom! You are awesome, and I love you.

You Be the Judge

Here is the infamous "back massager" another teacher gave my mom as a holiday gift and the ensuing discussion that took place over birthday cake:
Husband: Are you sure someone gave you back massager?
Mom: Yeah, she even used it on me!
Granny: Oooh, look at that! It looks like a penis and testicles!
Bubbe: It's people who need to take Viagra.

So - back massager or phallic art? You decide.

12:40 PM update:
The "back massager" works by grasping the flat shaft and rolling the studded testicles on yourself.

Happy New Year and All that Shit

January 1 is probably my least favorite day of the year. I am not sure that I have ever not been depressed on January 1. It always seems to be a reminder of the fact that although I got excited the prior night about the coming year and all that it may bring, really, nothing at all has changed. It's just the same old shit going on in the world and my immediate life. (Husband just commented that this is very morose, but that is just how January 1 is. I can't help it.)

Oh well. Tomorrow is a new day. Don't worry about me. I'll cheer up sometime in February.