See? It's Not Just Me

CNN finally got hip to the catcall trend, but it all but ignores the genuinely creepy, grabby part of skirt season. It also misses the point when it suggests a progression from catcalls to actual assault. They're not all connected.

I'm glad that Slut Machine posted about it, but I think she completely misses the point when she asks this:

Here's my question: Although guys who shout out sexual things to women on the street are certainly assholes, are they automatically potential-criminals? Do women really think that some construction worker is gonna get off his scaffolding and remove his hardhat to assault them with his hard on?

No, SM, I don't think that every asshole on the street who kisses, whistles, or shouts is going to attack me. That's not the shitty thing about it. What sucks is that hearing the comments(or noticing the movements and leers as I walk past, when I have my iPod on) day after day adds up to a lot of extra stress. It's one thing to assume that all dudes are jerks who only view you as a set of tits and an ass; it's quite another to be reminded of it every day. I'm no prude, but I hate it, and it makes me feel less able - hell, less willing - to feel outrage when I have to deal with physical harassment. This sort of thing may not be criminal, but it's not harmless.

No no no no no

No Harvey. Not the Fraggles. Jim Henson created the Fraggles to teach children how to achieve world peace, not bombard them with fart jokes, puppet pratfalls, and stale pop-culture references. I'm sure your writers will manage to find obnoxious ways to suggest that the Fraggles were stoners, to orchestrate escapes from the Gorgs that involve a hit to the groin, and to dumb down Red and Mokey until they are nothing more than twittering idiots in search of shiny clothes and cute Fraggle boys. I'm sure Gobo will have to rescue Uncle Matt in the real world, all the others will tag along, and it will be just like The Muppets Take Manhattan but without the cameos by Joan Rivers and Gregory Hines and a far less believable romance than Kermit and Piggy's.

"They rely on a special sense called electro-reception that allows them to detect tiny changes in the electrical field generated by their prey."

Scientists have mapped the platypus genome. They are also investigating possible uses for its venom(!). Hooray for platypi!

UV-ABoys

As much as I loathe the winter and its accursed freezing darkness, all the warm layers provide extra protection against day-to-day molestation. It's a whole lot harder to assess whether an ass is grabbable when it's covered by a long, bulky coat. Summer may be the time for pretty dresses, sandals, and sunshine, but it's also the time for catcalls and groping. A small man with a Ron Jeremy mustache and a backpack was kind enough to slip his hand up my skirt yesterday as a friendly reminder of the change in seasons.

I took an informal poll of several female friends, all of whom have experienced varying degrees of harassment since moving to New York. Everyone agrees: dudes are going to say weird shit. My favorite comment came from Sunday afternoon, when a man shouted, "Damn, girl, I wanna wipe my sweat off on you!" at a friend as she walked into Target. The debate starts when it comes to the question of how to respond to unwanted groping, rubbing, and exposures. Only one friend can remember actually confronting someone who harassed her, and she readily admits that the jerks she shouted at were teenagers. Why is it so damn hard to turn around and slap some sleaze in the face?

I know the answers: patriarchy, shock, shame, the lingering fear that we may have somehow been asking for it., etc. I know that I could find a way to pretend they were the reason I simply turned away after I looked back and saw that creep leering, knowing he'd just gotten away with violating me(I've see the same look on the faces of a dangerously lecherous cab driver and a rapist). But I don't want to deduce the exact reason I chickened out. I want to wear my cute dresses and enjoy the part of my life where I'm not chubby and awkward and not wonder which Abercrombie-clad commuter is going to whip out his dick as the train pulls away. It shouldn't be MY problem. It shouldn't happen to me once a month. It just shouldn't happen.

I know it could be worse. I've dealt with worse. I read the story about the college student in CT who was assaulted while surrounded by a cheering crowd. I'm just tired of reminding myself that not all men do these things, that I can't let these experiences stop me from being my outspoken self, that I have to expect these things occasionally. Why can't one of these guys pass up a cheap, fleeting thrill, if for no other reason than that they wouldn't want someone doing the same thing to their mother?

I know that would be a magical utopia. There would probably be unicorns, and I could eat as much buttered popcorn as I want and never get fat. The only thing I can think to do is to throw my (totally undeserved but still present) shame and anger back at my (future) molesters. I'm furious with myself for not knocking Mr. Backpack and his stupid grin down the rest of those stairs. He knew he deserved it, and he knew I wasn't going to do a damn thing about it. I told myself the last time this happened, "Next time, there will be Hell to pay." Now that I have to look, again, to "next time," I finally understand why the first cab driver I ever had in New York gave me the advice he did: don't smile, and maybe carry a small knife. I like to smile. A lot. I guess that leaves the knife.

Just because, here's a list of obnoxious things people might do in upcoming weeks:

1. Eating heavily buttered popcorn at Erroll Morris' documentary Standard Operating Procedure.

2. Dieting obsessively in order to look good in bathing suits while food riots continue around the world.

3. Turning on air conditioning units while energy prices continue to rise.

4. Buying things with their recently received IRS checks while ignoring credit card debt.

5. Going to see Speed Racer and Sex and the City.

A Moment with the not so Coordinated Campaigns

In February, my sister voted in primary for an open seat on the Wisconsin Supreme Court. At 4:30 PM, she was voter number 37. Why , she asked me later, are people so captivated by the presidential election but oblivious to the local races that are much more likely to affect their day to day lives? I didn't have an answer for her in February, and after reading this piece about the struggles of politicians in Indiana, the only response I have for her is that we're not alone in our confusion.

CNN spends hours each day parsing the words of Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton, running and rerunning footage of Jeremiah Wright and Clinton's "obliterate Iran" comment, but there are voters in Indiana who don't know the names of the people vying to be the Democratic gubernatorial candidate. Governors are not exactly unimportant government figures; our last four presidents have been governors. Sadly, it seems that most would-be constituents slept through the American Government classes that covered exactly what state governments control. Or maybe they didn't go over that; it's possible the Governor and the Legislature didn't give enough money to the state university system to allow for more resources than what could be found in old Schoolhouse Rock footage.

Ugh. I was going to continue, but I just found this editorial in the Wall Street Journal.

Now it's a War?

Every time I walk to the ACE train at 50th and 8th from work, a gigantic Special K Challenege billboard shows me a woman in a bikini and asks, "Who Will Win?"

Who or what, exactly, am I fighting? Is it the bathing suit? Is it my body? Junk food? My own mixed feelings about my appearance? How do I go about "winning" against any of these things?

I'm really not that concerned with what I win in this battle; I assume that the advertisers would insist that I'd gain self-esteem and confidence, happiness, maybe even the admiration of a good-looking man, if I "won" their weight-loss challenge. I'm not that unhappy with appearance, and I'm already dating a total babe. Leaping into the fray would only lead to hypoglycemia and bitchiness. And yet I still wonder...what happens if I lose?

Here's what I see: I imagine being attacked by an army of animated two-pieces, bandeau tops wrapping themselves around my neck, all those sarongs twisting up and slapping me like an unpopular kid in a locker room, halter tops and bikini bottoms marching to orders barked out over a bullhorn by a 15 year old Russian girl. But the horrors don't end there. No gruel for meals, just the sickening banana smell of Hawaiian Tropic.

shudder

Germs!

Here's a poll for you: If you had to catch a tropical disease while in a British Colony, which would you catch? Here are some options in case you think your only option is malaria.

1. Yellow Fever
2. Scarlet Fever
3. Cholera
4. Malaria(it does have to be an option, I guess)
5. Syphilis(you know, like in Out of Africa)
6. Influenza
7. Write in your own personal favorite.

No, you cannot choose to suffer from consumption. That's what you catch if you stay in Britain!

Excellent post on This Recording that talks Exile In Guyville track by track. Best line in the piece, by far, about track 14, "Flower": You better believe she’d chew up Vampire Weekend and spit them back out without much thought.

I miss real women in rock and roll.

Black Holes

Baby black holes. Strangelets. Validation for fans of What the #$*! Do We Know?!?. The Large Hadron Collider in Geneva, Switzerland could produce any or all of these unlikely apocalyptic events, unless scientists in Hawaii can succeed in their lawsuit against the European Center for Nuclear Research(CERN).

CERN recently finished the Hadron Collider, saying excitedly in a blog post on February 22, "Soon, the first protons will be smashed together and the secrets of our universe will begin to unravel." The lawsuit alleges that the planned experiments have the potential to unravel more than just secrets. It states that there is a possibility that the particle accelerator could create a tiny black hole that would expand and eventually swallow the earth. Is it likely? No. Are the secrets of the Big Bang so sought after that the experiments are worth the risk? I have no idea. I'm not Lisa Randall.

CERN's response to these concerns is short and glib: Microscopic Black Hole Will Not Eat You, the website says. I'm inclined to let these dedicated physicists smash away under the ground, but I may change my mind when things start to feel a little heavy.

Novels

Stupid Bleak House. Thank you for sucking up 80% of my Thursday with your 7.5 hours of highly plotted drama. I curse Charles Dickens and his craven adjective-slinging plot intrigue. Thank God no one pays for fiction by the word any more(at least as they did for him). I read Underworld once, and one of the many things that book doesn't need is a bunch of knitting scenes. Back to Dostoevesky.

Put me down and shake me up, as Smallweed would say.

Fun with Abaci

I woke up this morning to Brian Lehrer telling me that the chief executive of Bear Stearns had assets that went from $1 billion to $13 million overnight. I know it's the stock market isn't *real* money, but I spent all day wondering exactly what I could buy with the $987 million that disappeared in the blink of a buyout eye. I discovered, after busting out my trusty EMILY's List logo calculator, that $987 million will buy:

24,675 24-hour "dates" with a seven-diamond Emperor's Club V.I.P. prostitute, including tips

129,019,607 packs of Camel Lights from the bodega at 19th Street and 5th Avenue in Brooklyn, New York.

123,375,000 vodka tonics at any non-Meatpacking District bar(again, including tip)

290,294,117 Grande Americanos from Starbucks

21,933,333 trips to the Union Square Virgin Megastore(if you buy compulsively from the $10 bins like I do)

49,473,684 months of subscription service to some random porn site I found on Google

7,050 full 4-year tuition scholarships to an Ivy League university

21,933 full 4-year tuition scholarships to a top-tier state school

1,000,000 coach round trip tickets to Warsaw, Poland(with plenty left over to travel for at least two years in Eastern Europe, the Balkans, and the -Stans)

1,410,000 trips to Chicago for the Pitchfork Music Festival, including travel, food, and accommodation

Medical care for assorted orphans and poor kids(costs vary, but I'm sure that kind of scratch would cover a couple of rounds of chemo and some lollipops)

What did I miss?

Rules are Made for Breaking

This is a real email conversation between me and a co-worker/friend/fellow sinner:

Me: Did you see this?

E: Yes, but they're sooo vague!

Me: It wouldn't be The Vatican if they told us what we're doing wrong! How will we live in a state of constant fear and guilt?

E: That's true, but I need specifics so I can judge my neighbor!

Dear Woman that CNN Allowed to Write About Gardasil,

I am glad you are not my mother. If you were my mother and I were still a teenager, I would very much enjoy rubbing my slatternly behavior in your face. I would also go to Planned Parenthood and ask someone there about getting the vaccine without telling you. It is a simple choice, it is the right choice, and you should stop whining. And probably ask yourself why you waited two years to seriously think about this. And also come to terms with the concept that your kids already know all about this because they're teenagers and they live in the world.

Thank you,
Meredith

PS: Please, please stop talking about the religious freaks that probably want their daughters' reproductive organs turn into a malignant goo(it sure does make a great mental picture for the next Silver Ring Thing meeting) like they're anything less than controlling, deluded, misogynistic abusers. You know very well they'd get it for their sons.

Friday

What does it say about me that when forced to stay in and convalesce I alternate between watching PBS and these clips from some of my favorite sci fi movies? I haven't seen all of the movies listed there, but I wonder which science fiction cranial explosions best suit our Oval Office contenders? I haven't seen Brain Damage or Deadlock, but I have seen Battle Royale and Suicide Club, two movies mentioned in the comments, so they're going to sub in for this exercise.

1. The first question I have to ask myself is, "Which Presidential candidates are Scanners? On the freedom-fighting, consciousness-raising, not-to-be-used as weapons side I lean towards Mike Gravel, Dennis Kucinich, or Ron Paul. Who gets to be Michael Ironside and lose his brain but keep his body? I'm less sure on this one. I'm thinking Mitt Romney. Who doesn't want to see Mr. Mormon slaver all over titian amazon Elizabeth?

2. Who do I want to see swell up like a balloon? The Governator was the star of Total Recall, so I think the best candidate for Mars-air-lock-head-explosion is his Arnold's candidate of choice, John McCain. There's no real need to overthink this one.

3. Wow. I don't know that any of the candidates really embody "body-eating, shape-shifting, evil alien from outer space?" The current administrations international military and economic policy already have that covered, so my evaluation will have to rest on who I would most like to see Kurt Russell waste with a flame-thrower. Mike Huckabee. Also, I think his head would make the best spider. The middle legs would fit perfectly around his ears.

4. Here's where things get tricky. My best substitute for Brain Damage is this clip from Battle Royale, only the greatest film about high school EVER. If you look at elections as a fight to the death that are also fraught with death traps and betrayal, this film connects most directly to our current political situation. I'm going to try to be optimistic, to give change a chance. I'm going to say the person most likely to brutally slaughter the remainder of the competition and survive, teddy bear in hand, is Barack Obama.

5. Finally, we replace Deadlock with Suicide Club. Frankly, I wouldn't mind seeing all of them lock hands and jump onto the subway tracks. Then we could start again and I could stop being so election-fatigued.

Funwall? No wonder he's got the youth vote locked up...

This website offers more compelling reasons for me to change my primary allegiance than ten debates!

How NOT to propose a NSA sexual relationship

A dear friend of mine received this email yesterday, and I'm still confused. I'd think it was just a bit of spam or some sort of chain email if it weren't for the overwrought email she received on Valentine's Day. I can't figure out what the author thought the outcome would be from this sudden burst of anonymous missives. If you're wondering how best to avoid scaring the attraction out of your potential fuck-buddy, or if you're the one making my friend feel like she's living in the Hotel Overlook from The Shining, my step by step dissection might help you.

From: Mister Rightnow <rightnowmister@gmail.com>
Two Words Mr. President: Plausible Deniability

You should have stopped when you decided this email address was going to seem clever to Your Object of Desire(from here on out, YOD). Also, "Plausible Deniability" is not something a woman as liberal as YOD wants to see in her government's bag of tricks.

So, how are you? Well, I hope.

This will not put YOD at ease. Pleasantries work better when they come from someone identifiable.

The subject line of this email is quite intentional; it's the operating premise for what I'd like to propose.

"Operating premises" tend not to play an important role in sex, unless you are Alfred Kinsey or Masters & Johnson.

We've been friends, of sorts, for awhile now. Friends who occasionally do things together, enjoy each other's company, but don't really share lots of mutual friends or are in everyday contact with each other.

This makes you sound like a stalker, not an acquaintance.

I like you, respect you, feel warmly about you, and think you're attractive, but that's never kindled into something more than friendship. I suspect you feel likewise.

Again, this is something that would be more easily evaluated if YOD KNEW WHO YOU WERE.

Because I value that, I don't want to see it disrupted by what I'm proposing. Thus the plausible deniability.

Normal people take this risk every day. If you are that worried about plausible deniability, you are probably a sociopath.

I don't think you're in a relationship, and don't even know if you're seeking one. Neither am I, and because I may be leaving Madison in a few months, and for numerous other reasons, I'm staying single.

But I really miss being intimate with someone I enjoy being with. And intimacy, for me, can't work with someone with whom I have no emotional connection. This is particularly difficult for me because I have a very healthy libido (in the classical sense). In the past, that has led to a series of monogamous relationships, but that's precisely what I'm taking a break from now.

So heading off to some bar, or browsing personals, won't work. The first has no emotional connection, and the second presupposes a relationship (usually).

You could do away with both of these paragraphs. They both make you sound self-centered. You've known YOD for a while and you don't know if she's single or anything about what she might want from her life? What exactly is the "classical sense" of "healthy libido?"

In thinking about how I could resolve this conundrum, you came to mind. She seems to have a healthy sexual appetite, is comfortable with herself, and would be capable of viewing this as something that might be good for both of us, I thought.

My head hurts. Is being lonely and horny really a "conundrum?" Also, it's not exactly the height of flattery to tell a woman that she seems to be just desperate enough to go along with your plan.

But how do I ask her? I don't want to wreck our friendship with some drunken, blunt come-on. Or make some dramatic, in-person appeal.

WHY NOT? People do it all the time, get turned down, and move on. Overcoming the fear of rejection is a natural part of dating. Besides, if YOD was drunk as well, she'd probably at least have made out with you(NSA too!).

That's why this message is deliberately framed so that if you're not interested you don't have to even acknowledge it, and our friendship will not suffer. Above all, I'd like to keep that intact, even if it may not last beyond my moving from Madison.

You might think that this email does that, but what it ACTUALLY does is make YOD apt to look at every male acquaintance askance. How will you keep your relationship intact if she's constantly wondering if you're the wordy creep who basically admitted he wanks to memories of her at night?

Rest assured about a number of concerns: I'm not seeking a relationship. I'm not possessive. I'm not *hyper*sexual, or into any bizarre kinks (Are you?!! Hmmm!). I'm great to snuggle with (I seem to generate a ton of body heat), I love to talk and listen, I'm generally supportive – oh, and I'm a very good, considerate lover.

This reads like a paragraph from a Craigslist Casual Encounters ad. Not. Sexy.

So tell me what you think. Or not. If the latter, our friendship will continue. If the former, it could take on a surprising new dimension.

OMG WHO ARE YOU AND WHY DO YOU THINK ANY WOMAN WOULD AGREE TO BE YOUR FUCK BUDDY BEFORE SHE KNEW WHO YOU WERE?

All my best.

-(Hah! and you thought I'd sign my name here? NOT!!) ;P

Snotty sign-off. Furthermore, only a pornographic emoticon is acceptable in this context. Why not go with "Best of luck with all your future endeavors?"

Mr. Right Now will not be receiving a response from my friend, but it may receive a response from some other ladies-I'm sending it in to Jezebel's Crap Email From a Dude.

OMG Racists!

Tyra Banks finally got around to reading Freakonomics, and today's show is all about what are names make people think. A multi-ethnic group of people were shown different names and encouraged to say what they thought those people would be like. My favorite quotes from the panel after only 20 minutes:

"Jose sounds like he should learn some English."

"[Ashleigh] is definitely promiscuous."

"Deedrica sounds black black, ghetto black."

The best part? The names they are evaluating are the names of CHILDREN who, conveniently, have names that tend not to match their races. And their moms are in the audience. Separated into different sections based on their races.

I wish I had TiVo.

Firsts

At 7:12 this morning, my mother was voter number 32 at the McFarland Village Hall. "I almost cried when I handed in my ballot," she told me. "I couldn't believe I got to vote for a woman for President!"

Don't feed the bears

Contrary to popular opinion, I am not, nor have I ever been, an evil, scheming wench. At least not without provocation. Elephants, you are on notice.

Opinion of the Day

With all due respect to my lovely boss, Ray Manzarek's keyboard part on "Light My Fire" is the greatest musical abortion in rock history. Or at least in "Classic Rock" history. Daughtry probably wins the general on that one.

Bad Analogies

Barack Obama heads into Super Tuesday with a bunch of new, serious endorsements, a ton of money, and enough charisma to keep all those JFK comparisons coming four years after his Democratic Convention keynote speech. He has managed to energize Americans from all walks of life, built an army of eager young campaign workers, and his inaguration speech is virtually guaranteed to include at least one moment that rivals Kennedy’s 1960 “Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.” And he still has another 9 months to inspire unity among the Democrats in a way that hasn’t existed in my lifetime. Why is that not enough to secure my endorsement?

I can’t fully support Obama because I can’t manage to forget one part of my freshman history class: for all the rose colored memories and inspring speeches, JFK wasn’t a very good president. The most apt comparison that causes me worry is JFK’s handling of Vietnam and his handling of relations with the USSR. The assassination of Ngo Dinh Diem? Bay of Pigs? Cuban Missile Crisis? The Kennedy administration was not exactly filled with high points. What does this have to do with Obama? Barack Obama has been in the Senate for 3 years, and his political experience before that consisted of local and state politics. He has served on a national level, and has had exposure to the intricacies of international relations, for a small fraction of the time that Kennedy had.

The damage wreaked by the war in Iraq cannot easily be reversed. Tensions with Iran and North Korea and the unrest in Pakistan cannot be defused through eloquent speeches alone. Hard choices are going to have to be made, unpopular choices, choices that damage idealism and probably hurt people. Can somone so renowned for his ability to appeal to a wide audience really be expected to alienate those who believe in him? This is a man who said he wasn’t going to run for President in 2008. Many of the best approaches to the problems America faces today are decisions that lead to a one term tenure in the White House. If keeping the White House for 8 years is the goal, where is the urgency to sacrifice the allure of legacy for the reality of change? I’m wary of the prominent place that that word has in Obama’s campaign. How much will really change?

I’m not sure about Hillary Clinton either. She has stonewalled the release of documents that would illuminate an important part of her political history, she is well known to be funded by large corporations and industries that I despise, and she is far too militaristic. My (already significant) reservations on the issues only get greater when I think of how polarizing she is and the unifying effect a Clinton nomination would have on the Republican party. Even so, I know how she’ll screw me over is she is elected. Comparisons to her husband are apt. She would most likely continue to liberalize trade in ways that cause Americans to lose jobs. She would probably couch her health care plan in language that obscures the real cost to middle-class and poor Americans. She won’t reverse the tax cuts.

Neither candidate has articulated serious, well-thought-out plans for the economy, withdrawl from Iraq, or health care. What good do comparisons to Presidents past do if neither of them will tell us what kind of president they will be? At the moment they allow us to fill in the gaps left by their silence on questions of substance. The only candidate who actually spoke in those terms was Edwards, and he was done in by his inability to call up memories of times better. That’s what is so screwy about politics these days. Actually admitting what kind of leader you want to be makes it too easy for people to knock you down for not being inspiring enough.

I don’t really want to be inspired anymore. I just want progress. Real progress. 2008 marks my ten year anniversary of political involvement, and for the first time in my life I’m undecided. I don’t want the next JFK or the next Bill Clinton. I want someone who is willing to ignore the siren call of historical significance and actually fix things. Both Obama and Clinton fail that test for me. Where do I go from here?

The Agony

That was embarrassing. Nevertheless, well done Eli.

The Playoffs

I was thrilled to see the New York Giants win tonight's football game, although I have not gone over to the dark side and become a New York City sports fan. I'm happy because next week Brett Favre and my beloved Packers will be able to trounce Eli Manning and company in Green Bay, and because my team has fans like Sister Sean Marie of Manitowoc, WI, whose essay won her an "honorary captain" spot and tickets to yesterday's game. This is the part that makes me want to pray along with Sister Marie when they have to go up against Satan Tom Brady in the Super Bowl:

My Dad taught me at an early age all the fine points of the game and expected me to know numbers, plays, rules and strategies....now for a girl, this was a novelty at the time. My last game with him was the "Ice Bowl" and by then I was already a Manitowoc Franciscan Sister who did most of her play calling from a chair near the radio or TV. This game was a challenge.I was stuffed, long habit and full garb into a sleeping bag up to my nose and almost bunny hopped over the bleachers on the last play. Lucky for me,the people in front of me had left a minute before the end so I had a spectular view from the 50 yard line. if the game had lasted any longer, my fingers would have been permanently stuck to my rosary beads.

Home for the Holidays

There are a few things that carry over from Christmas to Christmas in Wisconsin. One is champagne on Christmas Eve, one is the tape of Christmas songs played by classical guitar, one is the sound of my mother trying to understand her new electronic equipment. My favorite tradition is the debate about music that occurs when my sister and I open our Christmas CDs from our father.

This year's topic: Which Supertramp album is the best? In the "Breakfast in America" corner is my mother, in the "Even in the Quietest Moments" and "Crime of the Century"(which apparently should constitute one awesome double album if they'd really known what was good for them) corner is my father.

I sit in the "I can't believe my dad bought my sister two Supertramp albums for Christmas" corner.

Happy Holidays!

Mike Huckabee Prefers Rapists to Democrats

My grandmother left the Baptist church after she married my grandfather. I asked her once why she felt compelled to leave the faith in which she was raised, and she told me it came down to cultural shifts that left her feeling undervalued and disrespected(this from a woman whose father was so strict she had to sneak out of her house during Sunday "sitting hours" to see my grandfather play baseball). I can't imagine what her reaction would be to the current Southern Baptist Ambassador Mike Huckabee and this appalling cover-up.

I came to terms long ago with the fact that victims of sexual assault will always face undeserved skepticism and disrepect(Pennsylvania is home to some of the worst, at least lately). Reading about then-Governor Huckabee's behavior towards the victims of Wayne Dumond, and his obviously political decision to value a violent felon's words over the safety of his citizens, makes me dream of dispatching machete justice.

It's terrible that Huckabee let this man go free over the obvously anguished pleas of his victims and their loved ones. It's terrible that he did so at a time when religious zealots were slandering his then underage victim by implying her case was affected by her distant relation to Bill Clinton. It's terrible that he wrote in his own book that he felt the criminal justice system should be more compassionate and yet signed 16 death warrants during his gubernatorial tenure. It's morally reprehensible that his 2002 campaign for governor in 2002 covered up illegal dealings that resulted in the rape and murder of two women.

In a reasonable society, the documents and public statements of the victims of Dumond's crimes would be enough to disqualify Huckabee from contention for the Republican nomination. Of course we do not live in a reasonable society. Huckabee has naturally responded to questions about Dumond by accusing those raising the issue of engaging in the dreaded "partisan politics."

The "partisan slur" defense is hardly new, and it always seems to work in favor of Republicans. Decisions made while in public office are open to public scrutiny. This is why Freedom of Information and Open Records laws exist. Think back to past Presidential campaigns. Michael Dukakis and his opposition to the death penalty. Al Gore's involvement with the internet. John Kerry's "flip-flopping" votes on the Iraq War. These were all incredibly effective attacks on Democratic candidates, and NO ONE DIED as a direct result of their administrative decisions. If the United States press turns out to be too spineless to delve more deeply into this deeply misogynistic and hypocritical chapter of Huckabee's political career, I'm officially changing my party affiliation to Anarchist.

Mike Huckabee spends an absurd amount of time defining himself as the candidate of choice for conservative religious Americans. The obvious choice for voters who want to conserve the lives of their female relations is to not elect him. The choice for the rest of us is to do as my grandmother did and respect women enough to let everyone know what kind of governement executive this man really is.

(Thanks to Jezebel for the post that got me all riled up).

Monday Night Football or Triumph of the Will?

Does anyone else feel like Leni Riefenstahl should be filming the Patriots' games this season? Or am I the only person that sees a resemblance between photos like this:

and this?

Confessions

I have the hots for Graham Chase. It's no wonder I have such a thing for frustrated men reluctantly facing middle age.

Fitter, Happier, Less Productive

The cats are playing with the popcorn I dropped on the floor. I'm taking the advice of a wise individual. Until further notice, it's 1997.

Coming Soon: Dispatches from Drivers' Ed.

Ah, fall

Global warming may have skipped autumn, but that doesn't mean you won't still get a healthy dose of Seasonal Affective Disorder this holiday season. It's that glorious time of year when the leaves turn bright orange for one day and then fall off en masse, the skies are blanketed in clouds that would promise snow if it were 30 degrees cooler, and the only rational response to life is to score some vicodin, buy a bunch of fancy chocolate bars, crawl into bed, and crank up some depressing music(I prefer Portishead, Morcheeba, Massive Attack, and Jeff Buckley, but I'm also currently living in 1997). Some newer options include Jose Gonzalez, Royskopp, Dirty Three, Jens Lekman, Boards of Canada, or maybe even some Kid A-era Radiohead.

The other great part about our new and improved cold season is the all the uplifting films we can look forward to. A friend lovingly refers to the months of November and December as "Holocaust season" at the cinema. Terminal illness, cold-blooded killers, existential crises galore-it's a feast for the senses that only the well-medicated and lobotomized could ignore. I'm looking forward to the weekend that I'm so overwhelmed by entertainment choices that I just stay in bed with said chocolate and vicodin. My advice for the SAD and cinemaphobic-put a bunch of Jan Svankmeier, Wong Kar Wai, Nicholas Roeg, and Brothers Quay on your Netflix.
You'll thank me for your agoraphobia later.

Greatest Mix Ever

I discovered this playlist buried deep in the comments section of the AV Club. It's pretty amazing. What is it missing?

Alanis Morrissette, "Thank You" (bizarre, bizarre lyrics)
Live, "I Alone"
Temple Of The Dog, "I'm Going Hungry"
Third Eye Blind, "Semi Charmed Life"
The Verve Pipe, "The Freshman"
Don Henley, "Boys Of Summer"
John Parr, "St. Elmo's Fire"
Journey, "Separate Ways"
Any Pearl Jam song from Ten
Stan Bush (and Dirk Diggler), "The Touch"
Arrested Development, "Tennessee"
BoDeans, "Closer To Free"
Better Than Ezra, "Good"
4 Non Blondes, "What's Going On" (the worst one of the bunch)
Europe, "The Final Countdown"

My So-Called Mid-Twenties

I think the dye seeped into my brain while I was waiting for the color to set. Despite ten years, 2,000 miles, and plenty of current developments that all fall squarely into the "Life Doesn't Suck After All" column, I still feel an awful lot like I did when I was 15. A couple of days wouldn't be so bad, but my Angela Chase mood continues apace. What will it take to snap myself out of it? I can't go to college and lose 20 pounds again. That's really only a once in a lifetime thing.

I am angry with you, Target. The DVDs came out on Tuesday. Why are they not going to be in your store until Saturday? Why do you have to make me more prone to cry than I already am? Is it not enough of a clue for you that I walked in wearing a huge frown and an unfortunately pinkish/red dye job? I don't have enough Matthew Sweet on my iPod to sustain another day of this mood.

Do you even know what I listened to on my way to your store? Oasis. OASIS. Yeah, it was that bad. And you couldn't even meet me there. You couldn't even meet me in the late '90s. I'm so disappointed it you, Target.

Random thoughts

The movie that is called "Turkish Star Wars" in conversation happens to be the greatest movie never covered by MST3K. It wouldn't have been, since it is not dubbed, and is in fact subtitled, but the late-in-the-film description of the Koran's importance(and it's connection to "The Sword" and "The Brain") is the greatest visit from the exposition fairy EVER.

REDACTED: For further random thoughts, please contact the author directly.

If this were Livejournal

"Wonderful Life" by Nick Cave would be my song for the moment. Because it's that sort of day. Tomorrow might even descend to depths worthy of a female singer-songwriter.

Please, don't let that happen. If you see me, buy me a drink or a cookie. Only you can prevent pointless pseudo-feminist navel-gazing.

You Stay Classy, Philadelphia

As if it weren't enough to blow several mental circuits contemplating last week's tale of horrific sexual violence in Philly, I stumbled upon another reason why I think Pennsylvanian women must be the worst rape crisis counselors on Earth. If a men can gang rape a woman at gunpoint and walk away without being charged with any sort of sexual assault, it's hard to believe that anyone gets convicted of rape in that city.

Please excuse the terrible pun, but Philadelphia most certainly isn't in the running for "City of Sisterly Love." The primarily female jury that sat on the Marsalis case refused to believe that women might behave irrationally after being drugged and taken advantage of, and the judge in this more recent case clearly viewed the victim as nothing more than chattel and spoke derisively about her.

It's not exactly controversial to state that Americans collectively have a mangled sense of sexual morality. The appalling ruling made by Judge Deni reminds me of an episode of Oprah that infuriated me particularly. In one of her "hard-hitting" post-View reports, Lisa Ling went to hang out with a vice squad that worked an Oklahoma truck stop. Rather than picking up, arresting, and then exposing the drivers who waited for young, desperate women to knock on their cab doors, the prostitutes were arrested and subjected to Ling's "Why do you do it? Aren't you worried about your children while you're out here all night?" sympathetically-toned national shaming.

It never ceases to amaze me how vicious women are to one another. When female figures of authority dismiss women who work in the sex industry as unworthy of sympathy, as deserving of contempt and violent comeuppance, it makes it that much easier for men of all types to write all women off as sex objects. It's not a long road from "she deserved it because she was a hooker" to "she was dressed like a slut so I treated her like one."

This just makes me hate people, as well as to catapult Philadelphia to the top of my "Rapingest Cities in America" list.

The Prices that Fell to Earth

Is it wrong that I plan on attacking my local Target's menswear department this weekend in order to buy some of their new Bowie clothes? Don't fight me for the Man Who Fell to Earth trench coat. I will cut you.

Political Legacy via "Freaks and Geeks"

Yeah Al. Go Ozone Man.

I found out that Gore and the IPCC had been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize through a text message from my mom. That bit of intergenerational connection was cool; Al Gore winning a Nobel is less so.

It's not that I don't think that Al doesn't deserve recognition for his work; far from it. He's doing good work and he's a brilliant man. What worries me the most can be summed up by a scene from the last episode of Freaks and Geeks.

Geeks get cleaned out and arrive in the AV Room grumbling. AV Club Teacher runs the Geeks through the next several years, assuring them that the Jocks' lives will only deteriorate from high school and that the Geeks can look forward to lives of success and vindication.

This is how I feel about the Nobel Peace Prize and the Democrats at the moment. It's great that the world recognizes their ability to think and act on a global scale, but I can think of another arena in which I would like to recognize those abilities-the US Presidency. It sucks that the US voters would rather be led by men who treat international conflict like a football rivalry between neighboring towns. George W. Bush will never win the Nobel Peace Prize, but that doesn't mean that his actions won't be as memorable as Al Gore's.

This isn't an "Al Gore for President" post. It's not possible to apply "he who laughs last laughs best" to global politics. I would forgo any number of "I told you so's" to have a President who wasn't going to completely destroy the world, or maybe one that could manage to win the Nobel and be a political leader at the same time.

Freedom!

Well, sort of. If you're a sucker like me and you still pay for some of your music downloads, make the switch to Amazon's newly started mp3 store. It's cheaper than iTunes and all of their 2.3 million songs are DRM free. That means you can play them any time, anywhere, and copy them as much as you like, all for about $.89 a song.

Seriuosly, make the switch. If you're not cool enough to know where to get it all gratis, you're definitely cool enough to bust up a monopoly.

What am I supposed to do now?

Jezebel informed me that drinking three drinks a night will give you breast cancer.

Granted, pretty much everything gives you cancer these days, but if I can't hide from my body's inevitable collapse in the sweet, dark embrace of my favorite bar, where am I supposed to go? The gym? Hell no.

Off the top of my head, here are things that are going to give me cancer and/or kill me through other awful side effects:

Stress
Cell Phones
Alcohol
Hot Dogs
Diet Coke
French Press Coffee
Microwave Popcorn(!)

What's the point in living without these things?

Tension breakers

Sometimes, I have bad days for no real reason. Last night I was deep in the depths of despair(as Ann(e) Shirley would say) when my sister called. And it fixed everything.

S: I think that for my date tomorrow I'm going to wear my cute dress, tights, and these adorable ankle boots that I just got.

M: You have ankle boots?

S: Yeah, they're amazing. I might have to bring them with me to New York to visit you.

M: If you bring your ankle boots and wear them, I'm wearing my skinny jeans.

S: You have skinny jeans?

M: Yeah, I bought them for really cheap...shut up! YOU HAVE ANKLE BOOTS!

Commence insane laughter. End scene.

Betty Crocker meets Bettie Page

When Rachel Kramer Bussel is your go-to quote person, you know you're looking at a "hot" trend. Does this mean cupcakes are the new knitting?

My own Hot List

So I am starting my own list of things I think are "hot" as I go through and fact check this year's "hot issue." My first three entries:

Hot Rock & Roll Suicide: John Berryman. When you show up in songs by both the Hold Steady and Okkervil River, you're officially a muse.

Hot Tranny: Begum Nawazish Ali, Pakistani talk-show host(ess) and pro-democracy agitator.

Hot Job: Fact Checker. Because that's what I do.

What else belongs on the list?

(All credit for the tranny info goes to Coco. May you find a more receptive publisher for your political drag queen stories someday soon)

Good Content, but the execution...

Is it just me or is Barack Obama totally off his game in this speech? I know he must be tired, and he's staking what will be a lonely spot in the Democratic field, but he's not the Obama I remember.

I'm being too hard on the man, especially since he just called for an immediate end to the war. Nevermind his less than inspiring and somewhat stumbling delivery, he's got the right policy idea.

Drowning

Have you ever found yourself so totally overwhelmed by a seriously time-crunched project that you just want to throw it in the air and start sobbing? That's about how I feel right now. I'm about ready to curl up under my desk in the fetal position.

Banished from the Lexicon

Please, for my sake, do not ever use the word "mumblecore" in my presence. It is a word created to describe a genre that was created by and for pretentious emo jerks. Emo, incidentally, is the last adjective I hated with a burning passion. With any luck, these movies will not become popular enough to require me to add this particular "-core" to my vocabulary.

Teamwork is Important

I have nothing to add.

Drunk driving bust: 1 truck, 2 drivers

Gannett Wisconsin Newspapers

Two Dorchester men were arrested earlier this month for driving the same vehicle while intoxicated in the Colby-Abbotsford area.

Harvey J. Miller, 43, who has no legs, was steering the 1985 Chevrolet truck from the driver's seat while Edwin H. Marzinske, 55, operated the brake and gas pedals, according to the police report.

They were headed northbound on Hiline Avenue in Abbotsford when police pulled them over at 2:40 a.m. on Aug. 18.

Miller admitted he was too drunk to drive but argued he wasn't operating the vehicle because he couldn't push the pedals. He was issued a citation for a third drunk-driving offense, while Marzinske was cited for a second drunk-driving offense. Both men also were cited for driving after revocation.

A third drunk man in the vehicle walked himself home after the incident.

Nightmares

I keep having dreams about moving to L.A. I don't know why. I hate everything about the Los Angeles area with a bright and burning passion. There is nothing I can imagine enjoying about living there, not even the climate. Are L.A. dreams my new zombie nightmares? If so, I have clearly graduated to a new and far more frightening "most feared" scenario.

I want my "anywhere but here" dreams to be about places I might actually want to go, like Mongolia or Nepal or East Africa.

It's a little freaky that I'm dreaming of escape scenarios after only two months.

A Master at Work

Tonight I got to spend some time with a lovely young woman who has become a very good friend of mine since I moved back to New York. We sat and drank rose at a recently opened wine bar in our neighborhood and had a lovely time. The night would have been a perfect girl's night out if it hadn't been for the intrusion of a couple of obviously Jersey men who insisted upon chatting with us.

The whole night would have been ruined by their awkward attempts at conversation if it hadn't been for my friend's brilliant improvisation. In response to one of the trio's attempts at negging us for being from WI and IL, she asked, "What other stereotypes would you like to run by us?" To another's inquiry about whether or not we'd ever really behaved like psychos, she said, "I poured hot tea on someone after he made it for me." They tittered in an off kilter sort of way, and we left shortly after, confident we'd departed with the upper hand.

Blessed with context for her statements, I spent the intensely uncomfortable(for them) moments laughing heartily on the inside. After all, what's the point of having beautiful, intelligent, witty friends if they can't shut down chubby loser dudes and still be (classy and) hilarious while doing it?

I have a new heroine.

Do Unto Others...

I bet this little monster would shape up if someone walked up to him and told him "I really really don't like horrid little boys" and threatened to stomp on his head.

It's kids like these that make me believe occasional beatings for small children can't be all bad.

Bus Stop

For years I have thought that The Ice Storm featured the most horrible tragic electrocution scene I could ever imagine. I was so, so wrong.

After reading this story I might never take the bus again, even when it isn't raining. What is it with my Midwestern stomping grounds playing host to tragedies that mirror my worst nightmares?

Sick Sick Sick

You know things are bad for American health care when even the White House Press Secretary has to get a better job to pay his medical bills. Granted, "financial reasons" could mean any number of things, but the normal code words for "I want to make more money" are "I want to spend more time with my family." That Mr. Snow would come out and say that he is leaving because he needs to make some cash suggests that he may well be much sicker than he is letting on, and that even free government health insurance might suck just about as badly as that of most regular, paying citizens.

A family friend currently undergoing clinical trials to treat their cancer said that treatments would cost $17,500 dollars a month if they had not been admitted to the trial. At $210,000 a year, that would drain the bank account of even a well rewarded GOP hitman.

Normally I don't like to feel things for Republicans, but I almost feel bad for the guy. Almost. There's only so much sympathy I can have for a man who lies professionally for people who believe his life is worth more than that of poorer people.

Potato Sack

I feel awful for admitting this, but I've always despaired at the fact that I am not effortlessly, annoyingly pretty. As it is, I am lazy, so I'm not anything other than regular person thin, I need makeup to make my features look at all striking(and I never really learned how to put it on) and unless I'm going through a skim-lattes-and-despair-diet phase, I always have more than one chin in photographs. I think my self esteem is begging for one day of being the hot girl, but that's hardly realistic in New York City. Blurg. Perhaps I will work on being funny.

It'll all be Company Scrip someday, I tell you

This article on Salon reminded me how much I really loved the movie Matewan, and how awful it is to be stuck working in what remains of the American industrial complex. When I think about how wildly companies abuse their workers here on US soil, I shudder to think what it must be like to work in, say, a gold mine in Brazil or a diamond mine in Africa(check out Sebastio Salgado's book of photos Workers to get just a small glimpse of it). We many no longer live in a country filled with company towns, but we're no longer short on union busters. We're basically being ruled by a cabal of them.

I thought they loved unsexy things

With all the money the administration poured into its failed abstinence education crusade, it's no wonder everything is falling apart. Even our nation's physical structures are buckling under the weight of sexual repression.

“Governments do not want to pay for maintenance because it is not sexy,” said John Ochsendorf, a structural engineer and an associate professor at Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

This is not something to joke about, obviously. It's not funny that US roads, bridges, levees, tunnels, trains, etc. are in disrepair. It's not cheap, keeping a country running. There isn't enough tax money to go around as it is, and we're spending billions on contractors that don't build roads here or in Iraq. If the country's infrastructure is consistently considered to be at a "C" or "D" level of quality, we need some serious changes. There are talented people working for the government. When will the people footing the bill(we know who we are and who we should be) figure out it's actually worth spending money on these things? Maybe the fact that some of the victims in Minneapolis are bound to be white suburban soccer moms will convince Norm Coleman and his ilk to pay attention to the general state of disrepair so many people live in.

The Boys of Summer

So a battle is raging right now, and it is a heated one. In so many ways they are bitter opposites, and could be bitter enemies, but they share a common beginning. I'm speaking of course, of the battle between Shia LeBeouf and Zac Efron for the title of Dreamy Boy of the Summer Movies. Let's review their credentials:

Shia LeBouf:

Starred in the Disney Channel's Even Stevens
He was the original Norseman mascot in the Freaks and Geeks episode "We've Got Spirit"
Starred in totally awesome and genuinely creepy movie Disturbia
Stars in Transformers
Plays a greaser in the new Indiana Jones movie
Was on the cover of Vanity Fair wearing a stupid outfit
Currently sports unfortunate facial hair and slicked back 'do that may or may not camoflage a midstage jewfro
Is of legal drinking age

Zac Efron:

Starred in the Disney Channel original movie High School Musical but didn't sing
Stars in Hairspray as the chubby chasing dreamboat Elvis-like character
May soon sport a very unfortunate hat on the cover of a major magazine
His image adorns a wide variety of HSM merchandise, including magenta pillow cases.
Lost the role of Speed Racer to 2005's official Boy of Summer Emile Hirsch
Currently sports an unfortunately Clay Aiken-esque shag
Is a serious spray-tan/pancake makeup abuser
Is still a teenager

It's really a tough call.

UPDATE: I just saw Hairspray, and despite Travolta's close to ruinous performance, Efron wins in a landslide. EFRON EFRON EFRON!!!

PS: Michelle Pfeiffer looks SUPER OLD in this movie. Protect yourself. She is not a MILF. Not in the least.

PPS: He still looks 12. I'm not arguing. I just love him. There's nothing wrong with that. I just want him to wink at me. And swoon at my straight straight hair...

Shut up.

Memories

My mom called me yesterday just to thank me for bringing The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert home from the video store one day 13 years ago. She needed something to amuse her while she cleaned out boxes and put things away, and for some reason, drag queens in the Outback was just what the doctor ordered. We had a lovely conversation about exactly what sort of household leads to a 12 year old feeling comfortable enough to bring home a movie like that, and we decided that no matter the answer, it was a good thing. Who DOESN'T love a good drag queen movie?

When my best friend came out to me after we watched Priscilla, I remember how silly I felt about all the time I had spent worrying about whether he thought I was pretty, and I remember noticing just how much dark wood paneling there really was in his basement bedroom, and how inconvenient a waterbed would be for gay sex, or any sex, for that matter.

How did anyone every have sex on a waterbed? I really want to know. It seems like the worst idea ever.

Happy Birthday Harry Potter

The whole world has already seen the dirty dirty Details pictures and there really isn't any other photo that adequately objectifies him, so I will just say welcome to the world of the legal, Daniel, and thank you for finally reaching an age where I don't have to feel like a child molester.

Oh wait, I found one.

Quote of the Century

Morissey on Madonna(spoken at a PETA benefit in Norfolk, VA):

I wouldn’t be surprised if she made that African boy she adopted into and a coat and wore him for 15 minutes, then threw it away.

I may just take a vow of silence for the rest of my life.

[My artistic integrity] said, "I know what it's like to be dead," because someone just murdered me

Just when I was starting to think it might actually be uncool to love the Beatles with every fiber of my still 6-years-old-staring-at-the-illustrations-on-the-cover-of-Revolver-while-She-Said-She-Said-blew-my-mind being, Nate Rabin comes back and reminds me how awful it really is when people try and mess with the perfection that was Lennon and McCartney.

I love the "My Year of Flops" feature, but this is hands down the best pop culture writing I've read all week, which is saying something, considering what I've been up to.

For those keeping score, the Robert Fripp comparison I saw the other day makes for TWO King Crimson references in the last year; this may be more than I've seen since that time I analyzed the lyrics to "Cat Food" in one of my high school English classes.

Oh, and it's been 20 years since Appetite for Destruction came out. 20. Pretty soon we'll be seeing "20 years since Nirvana" stuff. At that point, I think it's safe to say, it will be Carousel for me.

Comparison Shopping

It's amazing that there could be such different environments mere feet from each other. It's great to get back to using the telephone to do my job instead of relying on the tubes. There's less gossip, but I won't have to stay at the office until 3 AM working on stories that make me want to commit suicide.

Fun with Message Boards

I'm learning a lot about what happens to women who work hard and have successful careers(yup, miserable and alone), and I just discovered that the average age for a woman's first marriage is 25.3. I'm practically 25.3. In lieu of feeling like a horrible failure and a an awful dragon lady, I read this fanfic post on IMDB. It's awesome. Clearly by "awesome" I mean, "High School Musical 2 themed." But it's "more mature" than the Disney Musical, so you can think dirty things about the stars.

Updates from the Harry Potter 5 message boards TK.

Things I Learned in East Harlem:

1. 81% of new HIV cases in NYC are Black and Latino.

2. People give away dogs at a rate of about an animal every two blocks(as determined by my experience being offered dogs between 3:55 and 4:10 PM EST 7/15)

3. If you are white and wearing a bikini in a pool at 114th St. and 1st Ave., someone will probably toss you into the pool. This should not be frightening. Accept the "This is the JEFFERSON POOL! DONT' JUST STAND THERE!" as a welcome. It's much friendlier than "Welcome to the O.C. BITCH!" and usually they people responsible try to talk to you afterwards.

4. 114th St. is actually a project-splitting sidewalk between 3rd and 1st, which is good to know when you have to walk between Lexington and 1st Ave.

Generally speaking, I like East Harlem. I really like the Thomas Jefferson Pool, white-girl tossing ruffians and all.

Dear iTunes

Whatever you did, you don't work any more. All of my music is just sitting, desperately wishing to be played, while you insist there is some sort of error. You worked fine this morning, and this new version tells me you can't find the file.

I hate you. I hope you die. I would smash my computer into a thousand pieces over your uselessness if I was not desperately poor.

I hate you.

And My Dignity Draws the Line at...

Bikini stories. Nothing kills self-esteem faster than reading all about how much starlets "totally love" veggies and lean protein.

This makes me so mad

I know I shouldn't be judgmental about this young woman's life choices, but I'm having a hard time not jumping up and down in a snotty, superior rage about how badly her whole existence reflects upon woman-kind. I read her epic length piece about dumping her quadriplegic boyfriend, and I thought she did the right thing in that situation. I also thought she came off as a pathetic, weak-willed, co-dependent moron. That she turned out to be all of those things and still managed to get a sweet job is sad, but hardly surprising. I don't know why this would be surprising either. As I learned from Knocked Up, women with good jobs get pregnant and decide not to abort all the time.

It's probably a good thing you had to stop buying your designer shoes, too. How sad it would have been if your clumsy, fat, pregnant feet slipped and you fell down some stairs, Crossroads style. If it worked for Taryn Manning it would have worked for you!

There is one thing I know from growing up in the Midwest, surrounded by young parents and relationships built on accidental pregnancies, and that is this: It almost never works out well. Maybe my old boss was right, maybe it is possible to be naive and provincial thanks to a priveleged East Coast upbringing. If you don't ever have to see just how trashy your life can be when you don't know how to support yourself before you poke holes in the condom, you might believe it won't be that bad. This young woman is clearly going to give her kid at least a decade's worth of therapy bills, maybe more. I'm not saying all single moms are stupid. Far from it, I've known plenty of them. I'm saying that this girl's breezy, "I'm still totally fun and materialistic even as I incubate my little parasite" tone suggests she's not ready for motherhood, probably not even for a serious relationship(who gets pregnant after 3 months and thinks it'll all work out?)

Maybe this will lead to a sea-change; maybe the dumb Coasties will ruin their lives and be single moms while all the smart Midwestern girls who actually remember to take their Ortho come to the Big City and take their jobs. I know I'm in position and ready to pounce.

Good luck in Omaha sweetie, because there's no way your pathetic blogging salary is going to pay for a down-payment on anything East of Cleveland. Then again, someone will probably give you a book deal to talk about the new "trend" of women under 30 having babies alone and still being totally fabulous! Just give some of your friends whatever it was you were using with your boyfriend and you can hit the "two means trend" mark in no time!

Get Your Head in the Game...

By resting it on this beautiful High School Musical Pillowcase! I'm so excited to rest my head next to dreamy Zac Efron every night! This is the best birthday present ever!

Kenneth?

We just talked about Anderson Cooper, mostly.

I'm just saying there's a resemblance...

SEIZED

The corner bodega is closed. The metal shutters are down, covered in orange stickers that say "SEIZED by the State of New York." Apparently they didn't pay their taxes. I bought coffee there this morning, and when I got home at 7:30, it was over. I don't know what I will do now. Where will I buy my tall boys? My coffee? My pasta? This is a tragedy. So long, my friends. So long.

Who Knew Oceanography Sucked so Much?

Popsci.com has a list of the Ten Worst Jobs in Science. And I thought it was rough cleaning hotel rooms. I didn't even realize people DID these things as careers. My favorite? Just the name alone wins: Garbologist.

What was THAT about?

I had a dream last night where I found a turtle and brought it back to the apartment I'm staying at, only to realize the turtle was obviously a bad idea but couldn't get it out of the apartment. I was stuck, fighting with this turtle, desperately trying to get it back to the outdoors before my friend returned. Then the turtle bit me. It hurt.

?

No Sleep 'til...?

I'm moving into my apartment on the 1st. I have my clothes, some pictures, some books I left in Fort Greene when I moved to Minneapolis, and my computer. I have to procure everything else I need for my bedroom. This presents a slight problem. There are countless ways to get a bed, a dresser, and a desk, but so far I can't think of any way I can transport these things without spending a small fortune that I don't have. What to do? I am at a loss. It is starting to feel like every time something good happens(I find an apartment, I get another job interview), something pops up that leaves me feeling desperate. Much as I would love to avail myself of the magic of Craigslist, I am still lacking a delivery method. Beds are expensive, and not that many people here drive trucks, or drive at all. This vexes me.

I think I'm going to have to buy blankets first and sleep on the floor until I have enough money to buy the bed to go with the blankets. It'll be pallet-tastic!

Feet

Another man complimented my toes this afternoon. Two equals trend! Is it because people walk so much here? Can toes be toned and fit? A friend tells me that Brooklyn is just Australia for foot fetishists. Or toe fetishists. Or whatever they are.

Some Things Never Change

In my experience, people tend to get less intolerable when they get sober. I shouldn't be surprised that I can count on Ryan Adams to be the exception to that. I know I'm probably late to the party on this one, but my God, this interview makes him seem even more annoying than when I saw him play in Chicago in 2002. That was a night he played his entire encore while hiding behind a Chewbacca cutout. I'm not saying I want him back on drugs, far from it. He simply epitomizes why some musicians are best enjoyed with a little mystique surrounding their painfully confessional songs. I should just be happy he hasn't had Jon Brion produce one of his albums. We all know what kind of musical abortions happen then.

So True

(Short conversation about men who cook)

Lauren: All girls really want is to be fucked and fed.

Word, my dear. Allowances should be made for those who sacrifice a little of the latter for skill at the former, however.

Stupid Weather

One major downside to outdoor concerts is their susceptibility to inclement weather. Take yesterday's Summerstage concert, for example. After changing trains three times and spending an hour and a half underground, my friends and I emerged near Central Park to see huge, threatening rainclouds and several lightning bolts. And then the deluge began. Needless to say, we did not see Television like we were supposed to. Maybe they'll play another concert in 25 years.

I did see a giant cardboard box of porn sitting inside the bodega where I bought a Red Bull. It was possibly the biggest box of porn I have ever seen.

Can Music be Ruined by a City?

If it can, then I think I am submitting an essay to Ruined Music about how Minneapolis, all several hundred thousand people and however many square miles of sprawl, rendered me unable to listen to more than five seconds of any Hold Steady song without wanting to burst into tears. When Craig Finn says "Lyndale South" in Hot Soft Light, I choke up, every single time. Isn't that stuff only supposed to happen to dudes?

The Interview Process

Looking for apartments is harder than finding a job. First, it seems that women don't live in two bedroom apartments; they only live in "cute" or "adorable" 3 and 4 bedrooms with other girls and want "fun," "neat," "quiet" roommates. I don't mind having a male roommate, I just wish there were more options, and that I could magically find a place that isn't super expensive and has more than two feet of space. I'll even take the two feet of space if it means I don't have to move to Bushwick. My friends have had great luck, and I worry I'll end up with something gross just because I don't have their magic touch.

Update: I hate this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Too Cool For School

No, it's actually too cold. It's June. It's 60 degrees outside. I know I should be happy that the metal grates aren't melting the soles of my shoes, but this is ridiculous. Why does my time of underemployment have to be so chilly?

The Myth of Myth #3

While I was working at my crappy temp job, I grew quite fond of Yahoo! Jobs articles. Every time I saw a little headline that shouted "Best Careers for Your Personality" or "10 Ways You Fucked Yourself Over at Work Yesterday" I had to read it. Today I saw "The 5 Biggest Workplace Myths" and was intrigued. What could they be, I wondered. You really can take those Hot Pockets?

I should have known. The Biggest Workplace Myth is still that women are welcome in it. Myth #3 says it all:

News flash: If you report sexual harassment it'll probably hurt your career. The law protects companies from getting sued for sexual harassment, and human resources professionals are trained to circle the company and protect it as soon as someone reports a problem. This isn't to blame people in HR -- there's nothing else they can do because the law dictates this behavior.

When you do report harassment, the most likely thing to happen is that you'll lose your job because of retaliation. Yes, that's illegal, but it's pretty much impossible to prove in court. But let's say you can sue and win: You'll get a settlement that's too small to allow you to retire, you'll be virtually unemployable in your field and career, and your harasser will probably do the same thing to your replacement.

Before you accuse me of being indifferent to social justice, please know that I'm not saying this is OK. I'm saying that unless you're independently wealthy, you can't afford to single-handedly face down the injustice of sexual harassment laws. So unless you're in physical danger, figure out how to make the best of a bad situation and move away from the harasser if possible.

As ususal, shut up and take it is the way to go. What if the "best" way to deal with it is to have an affair with the harasser and blackmail him into a promtion to a different department? Of course I don't think this woman is saying she thinks that sexual harassment is okay. I think she is saying that it is not important for women to support each other and create an environment that is legitimately safe and positive for everyone. That attitude is the same one that is threatening women's rights across the board. As long as women accept that the rewards lie in compliance and not organized revolt, we will be on the defensive.

I was glad to hear that gaps in my resume aren't a big deal though. That eases my mind a whole lot.

Small World

After I finished work, I decided I wasn't ready to sit at home, so I went to the movies. As I walked home, I passed a laughing couple. The girl asked me for a cigarette, and as I handed one to her, her eyes grew huge and she shrieked, "Oh My God! I know you!" And she did. We sat next to each other in our literary theory class senior year and spent more than a few hours discussing how totally hot our professor was. And Lacan, of course.

It was a brief encounter, and I spent the rest of my walk home thinking about how terrible I had been in that class, but it was a great way to end my first real day back.

Delirious

It doesn't feel real, and I don't know when it's going to start feeling that way. I feel a little like a kid on their first night at summer camp, sustained more by someone's assurances that everything will be fun than by real faith. That might explain why I keep crying and wailing "I wanna go home!"

No more whirlwind departures. It's too painful, and I'm too old. Yes, too old.

Seasonal Dissonance

Everyone has different CDs for different times of year, CDs that can never be separated from the time they were first heard. My iPod is shuffling today, and it keeps landing on winter songs. Really cold winter songs. Walking to class along Lakeshore Path while fighting the December wind on the way to fall 2000 finals songs. Mostly this just means it's playing too much Kid A and Homogenic, with just enough of Leonard Cohen's first album to remember how much I felt like a character in McCabe and Mrs. Miller every time it snowed that winter.

There is a massive thunderstorm headed towards the city, one that should bring tornadoes and big hailstones. It's supposed to be 80 this weekend. It'll be hotter in New York. It may be summer outside my head, but I'm shivering in my cubicle as if it was 20 degrees outside.

The iPod just warmed up a bit-Summer 2002, Liz Phair, and Fuck and Run. Just as long as it stays away from January 2004. Good music, Bad Times.

The Eli Roth Conundrum

He's a total babe, but his idea of "rescuing the girl" is to get her out of the torture dungeon AFTER her eye is hanging out of its socket. And then to have her jump under a train when she realizes she's not pretty anymore. He made Hostel II, but he hired Heather Matarazzo to star in it. It's such a close call.

Actually, no it isn't. Cabin Fever. "Killing former Boy Meets World stars with nasty flesh eating bacteria" trumps "he might kill me during sex" every time.

No, A.V. Club, Fall Out Boy Does Indeed Suck

Did I miss something? Can someone more knowledgeable about things musical and Chicago-related please explain this article?

I have two questions and one statement for Kyle Ryan:

Q1. Are the "hooks" in the new album's "hook-laden songs" fishing hooks? Because I had to fight the urge to blind myself when I found out that the TITLE of the first single was "This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race." Once I actually heard the song my car almost turned into a scene from Audition.

Q2. Are you married to the sister of one of these guys?

S. I admire your moxie, Sir, for trying to convince people who read your publication to reconsider their hatred of Fall Out Boy. I regret to inform you, however, that Patrick Stump is in the band responsible for bringing "guyliner" into regular conversation, and for the wicked bad haircut and dye job Blake Lewis got before Bon Jovi Week. You need a hell of a lot more than catchy pop songs to make up for that. Lest you accuse me of judging a book by its douchey, douchey cover, I have heard plenty of Fall Out Boy songs. They are not good.

Memo to Patrick Stump: Of course your work is going to be pared down to Wentzitals. Did you see them?

Return to Blogging: The Angry Woman Post

It wouldn't be a "blogging from work" day if I didn't link to at least one infuriating item. Thanks to Salon's Broadsheet for one of those stories that makes me want to take a bleach shower because I share some ancient common ancestor with the dozen or so scumbags who will suffer no consequences at all for what should be executable behavior.

And Just Because

Ren, I just want you to know that when I get back on Sunday, I'm BACK.

Imminent Departure

It's finally time. My last day as a professional highligher/typist is Friday, my flight leaves Sunday morning(7:00 AM?!?!? What was I thinking?!?!?!), and I report to work on Monday morning. What happens in the next week? A jam packed combination of social activity, packing, and panic(both the quiet and not so quiet kinds) awaits.

It has never been this hard to leave someplace before. I had less than a month to prepare the first time I moved to New York, and I moved to Minneapolis with close to the same amount of notice. I shudder to think that this might mean I'm more of a grown-up than I was when I arrived. Life in the Twin Cities has been quite a combination of highs and lows, but I will still miss everyone I know who hasn't started planning their East Coast move(there are a few foolish types who still think they're not included on my list of inevitable transplants).

Please, help me reverse this distressing maturation process. The going away party is Friday. Immature behavior should be rampant.

Loading and Unloading

Thank God none of the remaining furniture is worth all that much. Posting some of the remainders as free is going GREAT. The place should be empty by the end of tomorrow.

Hired!

I knew my tireless enthusiasm for popular culture would come in handy. It's time to pack my bags-I just found out I got the job I interviewed for yesterday.

Is Big Fun big in Korea right now?

This article reads like a summary of Suicide Club, except without the weird interlude with the Japanese David Cassidy lookalike stomping on puppies in a bowling alley.

Yes, that really happens in the movie.

Word on the Street

A few things I heard today while walking around Brooklyn:

1. No, YOU'RE the bitch I'm talking to right now(said into a cell phone).
2. How you doin', pretty toes(said to me)?
3. There are mushrooms growing in the bathroom.

Things I learned today:

1. A lot of work goes into showing people that stars are just like us.
2. You can tell the truth and still be sued for defamation.
3. If I don't pick an official "moving" date I'll probably never get a job.
4. I'm too old to function on two hours of sleep.

Too Much Sun

It is officially summer in my universe: after a lovely day spent with family and friends, parts of my arms and chest now match the dress I'm wearing. This would be less embarrassing if the dress were sleeveless and weren't a V-neck. As it is I have lobster colored decolletage.

Graduation Day

It's sunny, the temperature is in the mid-70s, the hammock is up in the shade, and my sister, the Greatest Classics Scholar on Earth(tm), is officially a college graduate. It seems like only yesterday you were crammed into University of Iowa "temporary housing" with eleven girls from West Des Moines, and today you're skipping your ceremony to drink champagne on the back porch with me. I don't think I've ever been so proud.

Congratuations, Dana. I love you. You're the best.

A Textbook Case

An article I wrote a few years ago has been published in a composition textbook. I get to call something I did a textbook example of good writing. I never thought that would happen.

The best part? The Nation paid me more for the permission than they did for publishing it the first time.

If only the piece could also clean up the atrocious mess I'm staring at in my soon to be ex-apartment.

Brooklyn Time Warp

I spent most of today drinking with an old friend from the long ago days of Nation interning(2005 seems so far away!), but it has been the time I've had to walk alone that have been my favorite. I got off the subway yesterday and found myself more than halfway to my old aparment(where I am staying) before I realized what I was doing. I don't think I've ever felt more at home anywhere, even at my parents' house. I have to remind myself continually that I haven't been living in New York for the past two years, I have been living in Minneapolis, because it just doesn't feel like any time has passed. I feel as happy and as right here as I did when I first moved, and it seems just as navigable as the town I grew up in.

Maybe that isn't such a good thing, what with growing up in a town of 5,000 people. Maybe Brooklyn is just an overgrown suburb now, filled with people too big for the Midwest but not big enough for Shanghai, or some such nonsense. I don't care. I still love the feeling of being one negligible part of one huge metropolitan unit.

And now I have to present my friend with her birthday present: a handbag sewed from vintage early 90s highlighter bright Beverly Hills 90210 fabric.

Goodbye Smut and Eggs

Things that have changed in Madison since I moved away:

1. "Smut and Eggs," your opportunity to watch hardcore pornography over breakfast and hair of the dog, is gone.

2. The State Street Arcade, well loved porn store, sex shop, and gay pickup joint, has been forced out thanks to higher rents. The Art Box strikes again! It has been replaced by a soon-to-open restaurant. The owner of that establishment has too much moxie and not enough bleach to make me eat there.

3. Duane, my coffee guy from college now owns his own cafe/art space/performance location/conference space/hippie/biker/furry hangout, the Escape Java Joint.

4. The Paradise(my most fondly remembered old haunt) now has Led Zeppelin on the jukebox. And not even decent Led Zeppelin; it was Houses of the Holy. Also, some of the female patrons wore tube tops. Thankfully, the beer was still cheap and the fried food is still the best in Madison.

The real motives for the abortion ban

My sister figured it out. Dick Cheney is basically the head of the skeksis, but rather than stealing the essence of podlings in order to maintain his shriveled, damned existence, he must drink the blood of unwanted babies. Soon he will have enough to return him to the power of his youth!

Morning

Nick Cave and I are spending some quality time together this morning. I wish he weren't twice my age; I think he's my soulmate.

Sleepovers

On Friday night I went to a sleepover. There were sweatpants, there was nail polish, and we drank wine with straws. It was the first time in 15 years I've been in a room with that many women my own age. It was pretty magical, or maybe I am just a spectactularly bitter human for not letting go of all that grade-skipping angst sooner. Either way, thank you ladies.

Out of Place

Despite my best efforts, I am not a very neat person. I don't put things away all the time, I am comfortable going to be without hanging up my coat, and a host's home would need a lot of disorder to attract my scorn. This is not Ethan's family philosophy.

Last night, I used one of the hand towels in one of the bathrooms, and when I was done, I placed it back on the towel rack folded neatly in half. When I used the same towel this morning, I found it refolded, in thirds, hanging next to its identical twin.

I do not fit in here.