Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Red Headed Step Child

I need to vent.

I am on a softball team. This team happens to be made up of people my X works with, i.e. a bunch of graduate students and a couple of profs. When X and I were a couple, we were both friends with everyone in the group. Now that we are no longer a couple, there is a very subtle shift in the dynamic. Especially among the girls. The guys are fine. They don't get subtlety and they are there to play a game, not to care about relationships.

So the girls. Obviously it makes sense on a certain level that they would sort of rally around my X. They work with him after all. But at the same time, I don't want to be made to feel like a second class citizen, or a third wheel, or what have you. I don't feel like I can talk to them about by current personal life, even though they can talk about my X's current personal life in front of me. Maybe we never had that kind of relationship in the first place. Maybe it's partly my fault. I guess I haven't exactly invited them over for tea either. But I made an effort by even being on this team. Most X spouses would not continue to participate if their X did. But I like playing, X doesn't mind, and for the most part it's fine.

You know what though? My X lost nothing but me in the divorce. In fact, he gained. His/our friends that happen to be more connected with him rallied around him and got him all social. (It was like pulling teeth to get him to go out before.) Then I lost those friends and those social activities. My family rallied around him as well. To the point where I can't bitch about what the hell happened because they'll feel bad for him instead of for me. I lost an open relationship with my sister because she's still involved in his life and I couldn't vent to her about things. In fact, she vented about me to him. WTF? I don't think she realizes that I don't share with her anymore. She's too busy hanging out with my X to notice. X has even been invited on the family vacation to Disney World. Luckily he had the good sense to, well, not exactly say no, but at least say he'd only stop by for a day while visiting his father in Florida.

So, you add my sister and my softball team and I feel a little like a red-headed step-child. No offense to red-headed step-children since I actually am one. Or at least I am when I bust out the hair dye.

Sinko en Mayo

Given that tomorrow is June and I lost nary an ounce during my Cinco en Mayo plan I have to wonder what is wrong with me. Actually, I don't really have to wonder. I know exactly my problem. I. EAT. TOO. MUCH. Plain and simple, I eat too much. Shocking revelation I know. So. What to do about that? Michael J. posts a clip on changing your behavior from Fast Company that may be helpful.

"If you want to change something in your life, it's common to try to stop the behaviors you don't like. While this certainly seems logical, it seldom works. The reason is simple - it unintentionally creates a vacuum where the old behaviors used to be. And since nature hates a vacuum it will fill it with anything it can find - usually the very behaviors you're trying to stop since they're so familiar. Instead of stopping certain behaviors, try focusing on what you want to create - and the new behaviors you need to get there. Eventually, with practice, new behaviors will develop enough muscle to naturally replace the old ones."

Try This:
1. Notice any place in your life where you say you've got to stop doing something. That would be my eating habits. Specifically my habit of eating sugar, usually in chocolate form. I'm not a snacker. I don't crave salt. I don't eat at night. But I do tend to eat refined sugars if they cross my path. And my portions are too big. And I eat out too much.

2. Shift your mind to think about what you need to start doing in that area. A) Smallerize my portions. If FG and I are eating we should not split the meal 50/50. He's 6'2", I'm 5'2." I cannot eat the same amount as he does and expect to be skinny. B) Write down what I eat. I think I think I'm eating well but if I actually looked at a week's worth of food I'd be horrified. I give myself leeway and reward myself because I'm exercising. Thank goodness I am exercising because I'd be a blimp. I'm only barely maintaining status quo. C) Pay attention to the nutritional value of my food. D) Eat like a diabetic.

3. Be specific. Write down the exact things you want to do. See #2. I think I may start writing down my food intake here so I have to be accountable. Replace chocolate and sweets with something else, fruit is good, Crystal Light perhaps? We have it free in the office. Attempt to eat items that are sugar free. I hate diet soda but maybe I could learn to live with it when soda is my only beverage option. Stop cravings with gum.

4. Don't admonish yourself for doing the old behaviors, rather stay focused on starting the new ones and the old ones will diminish on their own.

There you have it. My new plan to lose 5 pounds. Or at least not gain 5 new ones! 130 pounds by the time I'm 30 (in August)!

Food intake:
Breakfast: Bowl of Total with yogurt flakes, skim milk.
Snack: Apple
Lunch: Greek salad with chicken and balsamic dressing, baked pita chips, plain hummus.
Snack: Izzi Sparkling Blackberry drink - cheaper and less caloric than an iced mocha. And according to the label it counts as a serving of fruit. And I walked half a mile(ish) and back to get it. Up a hill.
Dinner: 1/2 pulled pork and roasted veggie quesadilla, salsa.
Dessert: Minute Made raspeberry lemonade popsicle.

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

"Discussion" with myself

Go running.


You have to. It's on your training schedule. And you've been a total slacker for the last week so you have to go.

But it's about to rain.

So? You liked running in the rain last time. And it's cooling off so you won't sweat as much.

But I'm so tired.

You'll be energized when you're done.

What if there is something wrong with me? Maybe I have Mono. I know someone who has it right now. I shouldn't run with Mono.

You do not have mono. Put your sneakers on and get your ass outside.

I don't have to. I'm a grown-up and I control my own destiny.

Of course you are. That's why you're whining like a little baby. Be an actual grown-up and go for a run. If you don't go now you'll pay for it on Saturday during your half-marathon. You do remember you're doing a half marathon in five days right?

Yes. *Huff* Fine. But I don't want to do 10 miles.

Ok. Let's compromise. Do five miles and call it a day.

I'll do it. But I don't have to like it.


Monday, May 29, 2006

TMI: Mons Pubis

I am so going to get nasty pervs on my blog from this post. Hi nasty pervs.

Let's talk about pubic hair shall we? In a general sort of way of course. People in polite company don't tend to talk about this subject. Hell, people in impolite company don't often talk about it either. And why not? My theory? It's icky and embarassing. Not icky in an "ew gross" kind of way but more in an "uncomfortable, I don't want to think about it" way. If that makes any sense.

Why would I find something natural that everyone, male and female, has icky and embarassing? I don't know. But I'm pretty darn sure I'm not the only one. Part of the problem is that in the U.S., whenever you see a naked woman, she is virtually hairless. That is not the way most women actually are. But how would we know that? All we know is that Exhibit A: goddess-like woman on screen, does not match up with Exhibit B: Less than goddess-like self in reality. The result of this comparison can be a quest to make self more like Exhibit A, or, in my case, a complete and utter ignoring of the area.

To be honest, I don't really know what to do with it. And I'm also kind of lazy. Plus, no matter what happens in my nether regions groomingwise, I'm still not going to look like Exhibit A. So fuck it, pardon my french.

Up until very recently - like this weekend recently - I had a little bit of an issue with pubic hair. I and my mons pubis had sort of a 'don't ask, don't tell' arrangement. What you don't know can't hurt you. I kept that area hidden (unless of course there was some sort of, ahem, action going on in that area at that moment). Even at times when everything else was pretty much exposed I'd cover up somehow. Roll over on my stomach, pull the sheet up, whatever.

But, if I've learned anything from my relationship with Friendster Guy, at some point my issues will rear their ugly heads and poor FG will have a blubbering girlfriend on his hands. Except that's not what happened folks. I am growing. You'd be so proud.

He's very blunt, that Friendster Guy, and I'm learning not to take the up-front addressing of things personally or as a judgement call. Things he says are more like statements. Neither good, nor bad, just statements. Perhaps he is judging but it is not a harsh criticism. Without going into too much detail, we had an actual discussion about pubic hair. While Exhibit B was on display. In the past this would not have happened. No way, no how. As it was, it was not the most comfortable of moments for me. I wanted to hide. I even covered my eyes as if that would, as in the case of boogie monsters, make me invisible. But I lived through it. Previously, I would have crawled into the fetal position and commenced a tearful self-berating pity fest. You know the kind. I probably would have been so uncomfortable I might have even left the premises in a huff of indignation and utter embarassment. Something along the lines of what I imagine I'd do if I was at a pool in 9th grade and my top fell off. That sort of horror.

But this was not what I experienced. Because FG is not saying anything to be mean. Unfortunately, in the past, there have been people who have said things simply for the sake of putting me down or making themselves feel more powerful. Perhaps my disregard for grooming of that area is in protest to the wants or needs of someone else. Screw you buddy. I don't care if you think it's unattractive or what-have-you. This is the one area over which I have control. If you want any part of it you're just gonna have to deal.

But FG is not like that. I trust him. I trust that he will not take my vulnerability and abuse it. It's hard to learn to trust, even after many, many years. It's easier to ignore things, or feign confidence. I didn't realize how much I didn't trust until I let down my guard with FG. To be fair, my X was not unkind (he was not the source of my criticism). But he also never pushed me to face things either. We lived with consistent indifference and mutual ignorance of anything that might actually make us feel something. That is not possible with FG and I'm learning to appreciate it. One reason is that we don't know each other. We each have three decades of information and experience to share with the other and it's going to take a long time. And sometimes that learning process will dig up old issues. More mine than his so far, but I know he has a couple hiding in there somewhere.

So, pubic hair. I may not become a consistent groomer. But I no longer fear it. Or wish it wasn't part of my body. And I'd have to think that's a good thing.

Narcolepsy and Northern Exposure

I am dog tired today. Dog tired being defined in this case as an inability to remain upright for longer than 30 minutes. It's not like I did anything all that strenuous or taxing either. And I even got plenty of sleep. My five mile run on Saturday morning should have worn off by now and my two hour nap today should have helped things. But lo, it did not. I feel completely fine, even mildly mentally aware, so other than an overwhelming urge to crawl onto any comfortable looking horizontal surface I'm good.

Well, my 30 minutes are up. Must go lie on my couch and watch Northern Exposure on DVD. Did you know that in season 3 Maggie O'Connell is the same age as I am right now - 29. I'm not sure how I feel about that. On the one hand, I think she's drop dead gorgeous and absolutely emulatable. But on the other hand, she seems so old and grown up. Am I old? I'm certainly not grown up.

Am I?

When the hell did that happen?

Saturday, May 27, 2006

"Ma'am, can you hear me?"

I spent today lying prone on the floor being groped by undergrads.

Let me explain.

Friendster Guy teaches an outdoor emergency class and he needed someone to be a victim for them to assess for injuries during their final exam. I pretended I had a ski accident, complete with helmet. I even had make-up on my face that looked like I had a head wound; fake blood, bruising. I spent about 4-5 hours prostrate on the floor pretending to be unconscious while 18 year olds came over and said, "Ma'am, can you hear me? Are you ok?" Then they'd fake call in to base and say they had a woman down and needed more assistance. It took every ounce of my being not to hug the ones who described me as a "college age female" One even said eighteen. (I told him he was my favorite after he was done.) All in all I had about 15 unsatisfactory massages while they "palpated" me for broken bones and wounds. I had fingers in my mouth checking for my airway or alternatively being stuck into the joint in my jaw if they didn't want to pull on my teeth. I also have a bruise on my sternum where they rubbed to see if I was responsive to pain. Some of my groans were not pretend.

And yet I had a really good time. I got to see what Friendster Guy does at one of his jobs. Plus, now I'm an expert at assessing an emergency situation - at least if the person is unconscious with a head wound.

Friday, May 26, 2006

Heebie Jeebies

I've been spending an exorbitant amount of time in a local bookstore recently. I've been using it as a way station between appointments and as a place to meet up with people. During one of my layovers there I started reading the first book in Ann Rice's Sleeping Beauty trilogy. I had thought I wanted to add it to my wish list for my birthday but after reading the first chapter I don't think I can stomach it. Maybe it gets better and justifies the first few pages but I don't think it's worth the investment of time or money.

In summary, the prince comes to wake up SB but instead of a kiss he rapes her into consciousness. He orders her around for a few pages refusing to let her put on any clothes. Then he calls in the king, her father, and with her sitting there naked and exposed, the prince tells him he's taking her as a prize for waking up the kingdom. The worst part is not the violence or subjugation, it's the romantic way it's portrayed. Ann Rice describes his orders as if he's in love with her and this is how woman wants to be treated. It's the worst kind of evil that Beauty has fallen into - someone who makes you feel just good enough to make you their lap dog. Perhaps the story plays out with her rising above the domination but after even those 5-10 pages I can't move forward enough to find out. You can read most of the first chapter on Amazon at the link above if you need to see what I mean.

I read a romance novel like this once and it absolutely horrified me. I don't have a problem with women having rape fantasies or every so often wanting to be submissive, but those are choices. It's when the choice is not theirs that I have a problem. And I'm going to protest by not reading the books.

That first chapter totally skeeved me out. I felt unclean after having read it. Ann Rice is a great writer. Too good in fact because I believed every unsavory moment. Ick. Shiver.

Thursday, May 25, 2006


I'm tapped out. I'm completely out of blogging ideas today. I've gone to the BBC, The Onion, my favorite bloggy haunts and even the stupid little "news" clips on Yahoo and Hotmail and I am finding a paucity of inspiration. By the way, I like the word paucity. See! That's as inspiring as it gets today folks. Misogyny and other things that piss me off have taken a holiday from my attention apparently. Friendster Guy and I are doing well. The sun is shining. I've been busy with work stuff. It's not a hard life I'm living.

Oh wait! Did I tell you I met Friendster Guy's parents? Well I did. And they are very nice and I can see where he gets many of his traits. It's been a long time since I've been involved with someone who's parents are still together. It was nice to be able to see all the traits in one place in one visit. I had to travel to two states to do that with the X and he had to do the same with me. FG gets to meet my Dad and step-mother this weekend. That will be 5 parents met, 1 to go. My step-father is currently doing some contract work in Maryland so it'll be awhile. Probably not until a wedding we're all going to in July.

Well, before I bore you to tears I will sign off. Here's hoping something will inspire a rant or at least a mildly interesting post. Maybe I should go visit our "friend" at Save the Males.

More randomness

1) I've decided that my favorite song is "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel. Any song that accompanies a movie instantly has more emotion behind it and this one packs a punch. And anytime John Cusack wants to stand outside of my window looking soulful and lonely I sure as hell wouldn't roll over and ignore him. Just for the record.

2) It's a good mail day when you think the two pieces of mail you receive are bills and one turns out to be junk and the other a refund check. Granted a refund check for 54 cents but I'm sure as hell gonna cash it. That's like what? Almost a pack of gum!

3) It's also a good day when you are about to toast your plain english muffin at work when suddenly someone comes out of a room with their leftover breakfast meeting food and offers you scones, bagels, lox, fruit and yogurt. I love serendipitous food!

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Random Stuff

I went shopping yesterday and managed to find a knee strap, $13.99 at Walgreens. Then I went grocery shopping and they even had them there. I'm glad I didn't go to a fancy sporting goods shop and spend too much. Of course I still may discover cheap is cheap for a reason.

Speaking of cheap, I bought a nice black skirt suit yesterday. Three quarter length sleeves, nice satin piping around the collar. Fits perfectly. Guess how much I paid for it. No really, guess. You'll never believe me when I tell you! Nine dollars and seventy seven cents. You couldn't even buy the fabric for that. Thank you JCPenney.

Question, when did sizes all of a sudden become odd numbers? Maybe it was just because I was cruising the clearance racks but all the sizes were odd - 7, 9, 11, 13. I felt like I'd been transported to Europe or something. It was great though because I'm more a 9 than an 8 or 10. One's too tight, one's too loose. Note: I can't believe 10 is too loose. I'm still psychologically a 14. Or a 14 desperately trying to breath in the 12s I bought because I wouldn't accept size 14.

I apologize for this completely random post but sometimes a girl has random stuff to say. Here's more, I'm not tapped out yet.

I went and saw the Da Vinci code. It's worth renting but you don't need to shell out the $8+ to see it in the theater. Add it to your Netflix list. I will say Tom Hanks's hair wasn't as bad as it was in Castaway but it was pretty bad. I prefer the buzz cut from Forest Gump to the pseudomullet, reminds me of my Dad in the 70s when he still had hair, hairdo. But I digress. (From what?, you ask. Yeah, yeah, pipe down.) Anyway, prior to the movie there were about 300 previews and commercials. Now, I love a good preview (Is it wrong that I'm now really interested in seeing the newest Keanu Reeves/Sandra Bullock romance feature - The Lake House? Yes. It is definitely wrong. I probably need some sort of shock therapy to snap me out of it but I tell you what, whoever edited that preview deserves an Academy Award. Or I'm a sucker for romance in 2 minute doses.) Anywhoo - one of the commercials prior to the movie was to get people out fishing. Yes, you heard me right, a commerical for fishing. There were little kid voice-overs saying things like, "Take me fishing so that we'll always have something in common." Then they got to a little girl, mouth full of cutely gapped/missing teeth, braids, all smiles. Her voice over said, "Take me fishing because my wedding is sooner than you think."

Well, not only was I creeped out by the thought of this 7-9 year old on her wedding day but WTF? She can't go fishing after she's married? She can't aspire to be anything but a bride? For the little boys it was all about bonding, presumably with their Dad. The little girl has to threaten her Dad with her imminent departure to get him to do stuff with her. "I will leave you and be some other man's property at some point so you better do fun stuff with me now before I totally diss you." As opposed to the sons who will continue fishing after marriage, leaving their wives at home to watch the kids while they go out, drink beer, and scare fish with their Dad.

Oh, and I was mistaken for a lesbian. It wasn't surprising. There was a gay couple who sat next to me at the movie (Thank goodness for small favors because I've had a nasty single-ish old guy sit next to me before and he totally checked me out whenever I stood up to let someone into the aisle. His young daughter was sitting many rows in front of us.) I had met one of the men in this couple before briefly and the context was a drag show to raise funds for AIDS hospice care type stuff. So to be mistaken for a lesbian was not really a stretch. But I did feel bad when they asked me about gay clubs or events in the area. Unfortunately for them there are none (that I know of at least) so I didn't have to back track and explain my sexual orientation in the middle of a movie theater. I probably would have said something along the lines of, "Gentlemen, I'm just a friend of the family." As Friendster Guy said though, of all the people they could have sat next to in the theater I probably would have been the one with my finger most on the pulse of all things Family in the Upper Valley. Too bad there is no pulse.

I think that's enough randomness for now. Ciao!

Monday, May 22, 2006

Cinco en Mayo: An Update

Surprisingly enough, my quest to lose 5 pounds in May is actually kind of happening. I have managed to lose 2 pounds with a week and a half to go. I'm just happy to see any number less than my original number. For awhile I was getting concerned because I kept seeing higher numbers. The tide has at least been stemmed, if not turned. If I lose one more pound it will be the first time I've seen this new number for about 2 years, and that was only for about a week or so. And before that I was 18.

It helps that I have little disposable income and have slowed down on eating out. Sort of. It also doesn't hurt that I ran nine miles yesterday. Nine! My left knee is making me pay for it today but I did it. I need to get some of those knee straps, like the straps people wear for tennis elbow, only for runner's knee. I have no idea where in the Upper Valley to go for that sort of thing but it's my goal for the evening.

I WILL have a 6 pack by my 30th birthday. I will! If I do I promise to take a picture and share. If I actually manage a six pack you won't be able to stop me. I'll be going up to strangers on the street and flashing my abs. Is that indecent exposure?

"Local Woman Arrested for Exuberance Over Finally Flat Stomach."

"Hundred Rally Behind Abs Flasher's Inspiring Story"

"Abs Flasher Gets 6-Figure Book Deal - How I Kicked My Own Abs: A Cinderella Story"

Hey. If you notice I'm missing one of your favorite links over there in the sidebar let me know. And look! I have learned to alphabetize. Although there are two sections of alphabetical without so much as an explanation - FYI it's blogs versus fun sites that aren't necessarily blogs.

The "L" Word

Well, I said it.

That's right. It took me almost a week of false starts, panic attacks, and even some hidden tears of terror but I finally got it out there.

The response was less than perfect.

And yet, in the long run I'd much rather have the sort of honest conversation Friendster Guy and I had as a result than receive a knee jerk "I love you too" with no thought whatsoever. Suffice it to say that I know I am loved and cared for and when Friendster Guy is finally ready to say it on a regular basis he'll really, really mean it. More so than probably anyone I've ever heard it from before. He's a thinker that Friendster Guy. As long as snuggles come along with all the thinking I'm ok with that. And they do so it's all good.

Until such time as he is comfortable saying it I have told him I am going to refrain from saying it myself. I'd rather not have a one sided exchange in that regard. But it's out there. And I didn't die. Or get turned away. So I'm happy. I'll take honesty, even if it hurts, over call and answer responses any day.

More testing

I'm doing more testing to bring Big Girl Underoos back on-line and as good as before. Technorati is giving me problems at the moment but I'm figuring it out. Ignore this post. Technorati Profile

Sunday, May 21, 2006

Dick and Jane, meet Jesus, Mary and Joseph

I went to college in central Pennsylvania, a place not necessarily known for its liberal politics. In addition, there weren't a whole heck of a lot of people that spoke any language but English, unless you were Pennsylvania Dutch. In other words, there weren't a lot of liberal democrats or people of color. When the local school board had a meeting to discuss the teaching of spanish in school the following was said by the chairman of the board:

"If English was good enough for Jesus, it's good enough for our kids."

And if that doesn't tell you who's voting for all the new "English is our national language" bullshit legislation, I don't know what will.

More ranting on the subject at I Blame the Patriarchy.

Friday, May 19, 2006

Aaaaahhhh!!! What happened to Big Girl Underoos?!

Don't worry. I'm playing with templates and such. It's about all I can handle today intellectually. If I was smart I'd start my laundry and them come back to this. I may yet but I wanted to stop any ensuing panic and rioting in the streets I may have caused by changing my template. Of course I didn't realize I would lose all my links but they will be back, and more organized than before. As soon as I get them off my work computer. Doh! I have a few here but don't fret if you've been linked to before and are no longer present. It will take me a few days but you'll be back. I promise. Cross my heart.

Enjoy the adventure of not knowing what to expect anytime you come back here.

Home and under the weather

I'm home today making sure a low grade cold/illness doesn't turn into a full blown sickness. I'm meeting Friendster Guy's parents this weekend so I gotta be at my best. Or at least my usual. I don't feel all that bad but I woke up with a sore throat. Then my water wasn't even luke warm so I thought I'd eat something and hope it would warm up in the interim. But then I realized I didn't want to eat. That's pretty much the equivalent of my Bat Signal for "stay home and let whatever you have run its course." I NEVER don't want to eat. So here I am. I'm going to go veg on the couch and watch Northern Exposure on DVD. Maybe I'll get my laundry done. Maybe. I'm not feeling up to that either. Or I could just be lazy. It's kind of a combo. Plus it's raining. The perfect day to curl up and do nothing.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

My little girl is leaving the nest.

Because of my success with finding a wonderful gentleman on-line, I have inspired a friend/co-worker of mine, a shy woman in her 50s, to give on-line dating a whirl. She posted a profile, got an email from a fellow, and is currently working on setting up a first date. I'm so proud of her!

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

the last time I checked, I wasn't an incubator.

Not My Spot pointed me to a Washington Post article about health care professionals treating women of reproductive age as if they are constantly on the brink of pregnancy.

I am of two minds on this. On the one hand, I am not a child producing machine. Yes, I can do so (or at least have all the right plumbing) but that is not my goal in life. It's not even one of my goals in life.

On the other hand, I think anything that will encourage doctors to actually talk to their patients about reproduction, birth control and sexual health is a good thing. But it's not a matter of making sure women are taking their folic acid, it's a matter of providing education so that the 50% of pregnancies that are unplanned become more of a thing of the past. If you don't have the facts about pregnancy and prevention, I don't think an expensive bottle of folic acid is going to fix things. It's a start, but it's the wrong approach. It gets around the Bible bangers a little because the doctors have to talk about sex, or at least the results of sex, sort of. But it doesn't help the poor kid who asks the pharmacy employee where the pregnancy tests are and then says, "I just new I'd get pregnant the first time I swallowed."*

*Actual comment heard by a friend of mine who worked in a pharmacy.

Deeper than most self-surveys

I thought these questions via Fetch me my Axe were better than most self-surveys so I thought I'd give them a whirl.

1. What was your favorite story (fairy tale, folktale, bedtime story, what have you) as a child?

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. It began my lifetime obsession with food. And not just any old food but free, serendipitous food.

2. If you were telling your own life as a story, what would be "happily ever after" for you personally at this point?

A comfortable home, lots of fun travel on the calendar, someone to do the traveling with, a comfortable couch - it's my goal in life to have a couch that is comfortable enough to sit and also snuggle on - lots of hobbies, no deadlines. Just a simple life without any ugly surprises. I'm actually not that far from all that.

3. Name something that makes you deliriously happy.

Knowing that someone out there cares about me, enjoys my company and lets me know it.

4. Something you couldn't live without.

I think in the grand scheme of things there isn't anything physical/material that I couldn't live without. I do enjoy indoor plumbing a lot but I could probably live without it if necessary. Life wouldn't be worth living without love though. Is that too tired and cliché ? It's true. You can live with "like" but it's not truly living. Trust me on this one.

5. Something that never fails to soothe you or calm you down.

Reading in bed. Specifically reading something that I want to read, not that I have to read.

6. Something or someone ("someone" can apply to the last three questions as well) that turns you on, sexually.

Oooh, inquiring minds want to know. Let's see - knowing that someone is turned on by me. And sounds. You know the ones.

7. You walk out your door tomorrow and utopia has been achieved. What does the world look like? How (very roughly) are people living and maintaining this world? Assuming there are no more political battles to be fought, and that you, personally, have all your material and health needs met, how do you spend your days?

I'm going to take a page from Robert Fulgrum here and say that everything we needed to know how to achieve this we learned in kindergarten.

  • Share everything.
  • Play fair.
  • Don't hit people.
  • Put things back where you found them.
  • Clean up your own mess.
  • Don't take things that aren't yours.
  • Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.
  • Wash your hands before you eat.
  • Flush.
  • Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
  • Live a balanced life - learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.
  • Take a nap every afternoon.
  • When you go out in the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together.
  • Be aware of wonder.
  • Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: the roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.
  • Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup - they all die. So do we.
  • And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned - the biggest word of all - LOOK.

I spend my days trying new things and traveling, making crafty things, napping, socializing, having dinner parties with interesting people, reading, writing, hiking, kayaking - anything I currently daydream about while I'm at work.

8. What's your metaphysical/cosmological worldview (including, but not limited to, religion)? How does it differ (or not) from what you were raised with?

I was raised Lutheran so my original indoctrination was that if you were good you went to heaven. My current worldview can be summed up in two ways, 1) Follow the Golden Rule, i.e. do unto others as you would have them do unto you, and then 2) "Be excellent to each other" - Bill and Ted.

Beauty, grace, and love - the feminine triumverate!

It isn't a good and productive week here at Sassy Pants headquarters if I can't write something about this guy over at Save the Males. He's written an article about sexual surrender quoting from a textbook from 1958. He laments that it is out of print because he really thinks this author was on to something.

There is good reason that it is out of print: one, it's from 1958. That is almost 50 years ago. Technology, human psychology, and everything but evangelical christianity has come a long way since then. Two, and by two I really mean the only reason it should remain out of print, is that its thesis is this - "A woman's identity lies in an "essential feminine altruism." A woman's self-expression and power is based on making her husband and children her first priority. Similarly, her sexual satisfaction and spiritual fecundity depend on self-surrender."

Going on, "Men are designed for mastery of the external (physical) world, and women for mastery of the internal (spiritual) world and the home."
Where does fixing a broken toilet fall? Under physical or the home? Because I'll tell you what, anytime there was any problem with the toilet I'd have to come running as my X went into a panic. If it was overflowing I'd yell from wherever I was, "Take the lid off the back, grab the ball cock - you'll know it when you see it - and hold on a second!" Sassy Pants to the rescue. And this from a guy in a family of plumbers.

"[Feminism] has brought frigidity and restlessness and a soaring divorce rate, neurosis, homosexuality, juvenile delinquency, all that results when a woman in any society deserts her true function." As opposed to the fact that we can finally leave men who are assholes and are now more free to love who we want to love. And what about deadbeat dads? Don't they contribute a little to the whole "juvenile delinquency" issue? Nah, blame the mothers and their crazy new found freedom. Gee, and maybe that fridgidity comes from us being told we're whores unless we keep our legs closed. You can't have your cake and eat it too guys (so to speak.) Either we're whores or we're opposed to having sex with you. Which is it?

And finally, "A woman can have a career. [Thank god he cleared that up] Robinson's work suggests that a woman need not give up her femininity if her career takes second place to her love of husband and family. The world ... is starved for the feminine principle: beauty, grace, love. [Have they seen me in the morning? These are not three words I'd use to describe me at that moment.] This article could as easily have been titled: "Wanted: A Few Good Women."

This article could have just as easily been titled, "Why I will never again get laid."

This guy's a total idiot. An idiot with a nostalgia problem. I bet his mom wasn't as happy as he thinks she was in her apron ironing his Dad's shirts.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006


In case you weren't sure what foods were "chick" foods and what foods were "manly," Burger King spells it out for you in this commercial here (click on "Manthem"). Now that I don't have cable I have to rely on web surfing and blogs to help me ferret out misogyny wherever it rears it's ugly head. Thanks Shell!

So guys, tofu, sushi and quiche (even though you can joke about it being a "quicky") are all out. You must eat beef. YOU...MUST...EAT...MEAT!!!

Does anyone else find it oddly amusing that they put up signs saying "Eat this meat!" and it's aimed at guys?

And what a waste of a perfectly good minivan. I hope he remembered to take the kids out first. Multitasking (being manly AND caring for his kids) might have been a little tough with all that testosterone flowing.

Monday, May 15, 2006

Yeah, what she said.

Purity Balls - like cotillions, only creepier

Dr. Nik sent me a link to this article about "Purity Balls" awhile ago. Although it sounds like some sort of fascinating "gynecological gizmongery" (my favorite turn of phrase from the article) it is in actuality a prom for fathers (also known at this event as "high priests." I kid you not.) and daughters where the daughters pledge to preserve their virginity until their father gives them away in marriage. And the father vows to pretty much scare the shit out of any suitors to their home with shot guns and what have you. Or so I assume. Anyway, it's an interesting read and the author is as horrified as you and I may be on the whole issue.

Promises are made to be broken. Education lasts a lifetime. What's that phrase?Give a man a fish and he eats for a day, teach a man to fish and he eats for a lifetime. There needs to be a whole lot more teaching and a lot less promising that you won't go fishing without yer Daddy. Er...whatever. Gross.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

I just want to curl up in bed.

It's a gray and rainy Sunday here on the Vermont/New Hampshire border, and throughout New England from what I hear. Yesterday it was even more wet and rainy and I competed in my first 10K. My times certainly didn't blow anyone out of the water (although there was plenty to be blown out of) but it was a good run. My knee behaved and once I started I didn't even really notice the rain - except that my pants threatened to come off from all the water weight. My goal was to finish in under 60 minutes and I managed to come in at 58:30ish. Very cool. Then, since I was as wet as a drowned rat and I was no longer moving, I got really cold so I stopped at my gym on the way home and soaked in the hot tub. Joy! Rapture! Nap time!

I didn't actually nap though. I watched the latest movie sent to me from Netflix - Vanity Fair. I am discovering that I dislike movies where everyone thinks someone is less than who they are and that person has to struggle on the way up and invariably finds heartache and ruin and embarassment and sometimes happiness but only after the heartache, ruin and embarassment. Yeah, I don't like movies like that. I have too much empathy and I feel too bad for the person. Except in this case I didn't feel too bad because, although Reese Witherspoon starts out all pitiable, toward the end I just want her to quit her whining and deal with the fact that she's a poor little guttersnipe who can't get anywhere in Victorian society because everyone is evil and thinks she's below them. Bah! I don't know why I didn't stop the movie.

I am trying to work up the interest to work on my thesis. I did a little earlier. I went through one interview and moved all the wording around to tell a more cohesive story. I am going to try to do that to one more interview today. Now I understand why my friend S took the whole 4 years alotted to him to finish his Masters. If no one is hounding you, even if you don't tend to be a procrastinator, it's hella hard to get up the initiative to do anything. But here I go. Ciao!

Friday, May 12, 2006

Tag! I'm it!

I've been tagged by Mrs. Harridan at Mean Girl to the Rescue to fill out this survey. My first tag! I'm so excited! I have a strange compulsion to fill in pointless surveys about myself so this is perfect.

1. First name? Sassy
2. Were you named after anyone? No. But when I was little it seemed that everyone else had my same name. I had two best friends and two step-cousins named "Sassy". Not to mention an annoying character on General Hospital. And the President's daughter. (Ooo! A Clue!)
3. Do you wish on stars? Yes. It can't hurt.
4. When did you last cry? It’s actually been a little while. Maybe even a month. I’ve been surprisingly happy for the last few weeks. And I don't remember what the reason for the last outbreak was.
5. Do you like your handwriting? Depends on the day. It changes. Sometimes it flows beautifully. Other times it looks like I switch from writing with my right to my left hand, each letter having a different tilt and changing from cursive to … whatever the hell is the opposite of cursive. What the heck do you call that? Print?
6. What is your favorite lunch meat? Turkey. Preferably fresh off the carcass.
7. When is your birthday? August 1976. I'm a Leo. Grrr… and a Dragon according the the Chinese calendar. I'm one dangerous chick. Don't mess with me.
8. What is your most embarrassing cd? Friendster Guy would probably say my Will Smith’s Greatest Hits. I’d have to go with my, not one, but two, Michael Crawford CDs. I remain unashamed of owning Clay Aiken.
9. If you were another person would you be friends with you? Absolutely. But I’d probably be annoyed with her/me and want her to shut up so I could get a word in edgewise.
10. Do you have a journal? Just this blog. I tried different journals throught my youth and now have several nice, empty, except for a page or two, notebooks.
11. (Number 11 is missing from the list so I'm going to make a question up.) Would you pose nude for an art class? (This is a set-up.) I've already done this. And I'd do it again except probably not at an undergraduate institution like last time. I want the people who are drawing me to at least understand the affects of gravity. Better yet if they've experienced them.
12. Would you bungee jump? I have. I’d probably do it again.
13. What is your favorite cereal? If I had no worries about my health or weight I’d say Cookie Crisp, Fruity Pebbles (until they get all mooshy), and original Captain Crunch, except those little treasure chests rip up the inside of my mouth. What I actually purchase and enjoy is frosted shredded wheat. A compromise between my health and my sweet tooth.
14. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? Yes. Otherwise I wouldn't be able to get them off.
15. Do you think that you are strong? Yes. Physically (if you were here I'd make you feel my bicep. It's a compulsion I have. I love the surprised look on people's faces.) and, most of the time, emotionally.
16. What is your favorite ice cream flavor? Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie.
17. Shoe Size? It’s shrunk down to a size 6. I used to be a 7 to 7.5. Why can’t my waist line do that? WTF?
18. Red or pink? Definitely red. I have an over-abundance of red in my wardrobe.
19. What is your least favorite thing about yourself? Hmmm. I’m actually having a hard time with this question. I currently think I’m fabulous. Physically I’d probably say my tummy but it gets me through the abs class I teach so it’s stronger than most people’s so that’s cool. Psychologically I wish I was a little more confident in my sexuality or sensuousness or whatever it is. But I’m getting there.
20. Who do you miss the most? Friendster Guy. What can I say? I'm smitten.
21. Do you want everyone you send this to to send it back? Nah. I’m not really sending it to anyone. But I will probably tag someone. Let's see, how about December Flower and Jennifer Myszkowski?
22. What color pants and shoes are you wearing? Black. The shoes I bought this past weekend for $2.50! They were already on super sale at $10 and when I got to the register they were 75% off! Killer.
23. Last thing you ate? Half a monsterous whoopie pie (The link is for those of you who don't know what one is. FYI chocolate is the only real kind. Do not be fooled by immitations.) What? I'm carbo loading for my 10K tomorrow! I only ate half because that half was 486 calories. I kid you not. I think my eyes are losing focus from the sugar. And good lord the fat.
24. What are you listening to right now? Someone chatting in the hall and the hum of various office electronics. Earlier it was NPR because I started to fill this out at home.
25. If you were a crayon what color would you be? Red. Red, red, red.
26. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? My step-mother. It was her birthday yesterday.
27. Fingers or toes? Toes. Mine are very cute and little. And make an almost perfect square. I am not a pointy toed shoe girl.
28. The first thing you notice about the opposite sex? Eyes. Smile. Whether they seem kind.
29. Do you like the person who sent this to you? Sure! I don’t know her but I enjoy her comments and her blog.
30. Favorite Drink? Mocha lattes, hot or iced.
31. Favorite Sport? Softball. But only because I play in a league. Not to watch.
32. Hair Color? Brown with auburn highlights (or so I’d like to think)
33. Favorite office supply item? I'm going to have to concur with Mrs. Harridan on this one. Sharpies. I wish I had more use for them. I'm a color coding freak. Seriously, I need to be stopped. I won't start reading a document unless I have a red, green, and blue felt tip pen next to me. Just in case I have to make notes.
34. Do you wear contacts? Nope. No glasses either. Lucked out I guess.
35. Favorite Food? This is so hard. Ethnic. Asian. Chocolate. Anything I don’t have to cook.
36. Last Movie You Watched? U-571 with Friendster Guy – from his Netflix list. 37. Favorite Day Of The Year? Any day I’m on vacation.
38. Scary Movies Or Happy Endings? Happy Endings. I hate scary movies. I empathize too much. I have a visceral response and it's uncomfortable. Plus, I live alone and a sleepless night waiting for some sort of monster/alien/psycho killer/ghost/virus to come get me is a bad scene.
39. Summer or winter? Summer.
40. Hugs or Kisses? Bring ‘em on
41. Favorite dessert? Strawberry Rhubard pie. Chocolate lava cake. One of each please!
42. What's On Your Mouse Pad? Plain, boring, gray. It came with the office. Same with my one at home. But that one has a wrist rest. I should get myself on Snapfish and order a cute one with one of my pictures on it.
43. What Did You Watch Last night on TV? I don’t have TV. I spent the evening doing laundry, washing dishes, and playing with Quicken hoping to find money I don’t have.
44. Favorite Smells? Anything baking – especially something chocolate, Old Spice (a new addition to my smell list. Gee, wonder why?), Spring, popcorn
45. Favorite Sounds? Laughter, Musak (just kidding)
46. Stones or Beatles? Beatles. I don't really like this question. It's kind of time to move on.
47. Where's the furthest you've been from home? Morocco
48. What books are you reading? The Number, by Lee Eisenberg – it’s about retirement, Harry Potter y el Prisionero de Azkaban, JK Rawling – a Spanish translation. I’m trying to improve my Spanish or at least preserve it. Something on the Scopes trial for a book club.

Thursday, May 11, 2006

Brrrrrr...I'll take the Dasani.

I don't drink Evian anyway, but if I did, I'd stop. What are they trying to do? Attract a more masculine clientele? Maybe they should just make the bottle less pink. I don't need to see a naked woman (who looks like she needs to "detox" herself) making snow angels.

By the way, the caption reads, "Return to purity with water from the French Alps that's been naturally filtered for over 15 years."

Yeah, and now some hoochie's gone and rolled in it. No thanks.

When I was 8 boys thought girls had cooties.

There is nothing to say. Just go here.

Too little, too late.

I'm peeved this morning. My X is asking for my sister's address because he wants to send her a Mother's Day card. I think that's very sweet and nice and thoughtful. I'll give him that. But where was this nice and sweet and thoughtful person when we were together?

Valentine's Day always went by with me having to make all the plans and also counter arguments that it is a made up holiday. "Yes, dear, it is a made up holiday but they are ALL made up. Arbor Day didn't just spring into existence out of the ether. They were created so we could take a step back and celebrate something. In the case of Valentine's Day that would be our supposed love for one another. It is not for hosting a 5 hour D&D game at our house."

For my last birthday I had to make my own reservations (after repeated and not subtle suggestions as to what I would like to do. I sent him a GD link for Pete's sake.) And I told him what I wanted, plain black earrings - small, maybe a little dangly, something I could wear with all my black clothing. He whined - on the day before my birthday - that he couldn't find any earrings and that we were going to a different restaurant and he wasn't making reservations because it was a Wednesday so we shouldn't have any problems. Gee. Thanks for making an effort.

Now you may think that I was a little bit of a nag giving him all these instructions. But after 10 years of similar behavior - or at least steadily dwindling behavior where I came to see myself as less and less important in his eyes because of his actions (or lack thereof) - I knew that if I didn't provide some sort of guidance I would end up cooking myself dinner on my own birthday. Not cool. So yes, he's being very considerate by sending my sister a Mother's Day card. But WTF? I won't even go into who had to buy his Mother's Christmas presents and then got complaints about her choices.


But luckily, not my problem anymore. Except in a way it is because he's still so attached to my family. No wonder they think he's wonderful - they're getting cards from him. Did I think to send my sister a Mother's Day card? No. But I'm not a card person. So look who's gonna be the golden boy. My X. I don't think my family understands why we got divorced in the first place. It's hard for anyone outside any relationship to understand. But if I try to explain now they won't even believe me. "What do you mean? He's so thoughtful! He sent me a card." Blah blah blah bullshit blah blah blah. Maybe he learned something from the divorce. Let's hope so.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Unimpressionable Youth

From Save the Males. (Written by the guy who inspired this post)

His own son thinks he's deluded.

"Tonight at supper I tried to impress my 19-year-old son with the heavy responsibility he bears as my sole heir.

"Some day you will inherit Save the Males," I said. "Perhaps you’d like to practice by writing a guest column."

"I already have a topic."

"What is it?" I am delighted.

"I'll write about how some people can't get ahead in life and pretend there is some grand conspiracy and blame society for their problems." "

Of course, he explains that his son lives with the ex-wife, a "feminist," so the kid is not to be blamed for his brainwashing. Me thinks the ex-wife is one of the luckiest women on the planet. She escaped this guys clutches and has an intelligent son. Go her.

Words I never thought I'd say

Here is what I said yesterday to convince myself to get off my lazy butt and go running.

"Sassy Pants, you can do this. It's only a short run."

It was FIVE miles. When the heck did 5 miles become a short run?! Good lord, I may be an actual "runner." Minus the runner's physique.

And it worked. I went out and ran the 5 miles. Crazy.

Help me stop a global pandemic!

I've decided that I'm going to stop believing in evolution. If I don't believe that living things change over time then bird flu is a figment of my imagination. If enough people don't believe it can happen, it can't happen, right? We've been duped by the liberal media to think that bird flu is a problem. Hell, we've been duped into thinking evolution actually happens. I mean really, so what if proof is everywhere we look? So what if children look like their parents, or farmers have bred cows to produce more milk, or the Cold keeps coming back in a new form year after year. It's all bunk! How naive we have been! If only we pray harder and suspend all belief in reality things will be ok. It's like clapping when Tinker Bell is dying. If we clap loud enough, those little viruses won't mutate and sweep the planet.

Who's with me? Down with evolution! Clap, clap, clap.

You'll have to forgive me, I've been reading a book on the Scopes "Monkey" trial back in the 1920's. How sad that in almost 100 years (!) the argument from the Christian right hasn't changed. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. They don't believe in evolution after all. At least they practice what they preach.

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Do I get to register for gifts?

I was with N this afternoon and we ran into B. She's in on the Sassy Pants/Friendster Guy saga but I hadn't see her in about a month so she asked how things were going. Our actual conversation:

Me: Friendster Guy asked me...

B: If you say he asked you to marry him I'm going to pass out right here in the street.

Me: (laughing) No! I was complaining that I kept forgetting stuff when I went to his house so he asked me if I'd like a drawer.

B: Oh! That's even better.

Not so anonymous blogging

Anonymous blogging is both fascinating and frightening. On the one hand it allows me to be very free with what I say but on the other, anonymity goes only so far. And is never as anonymous as you think it might be.

I ran into a friend today who I know mostly through some other friends who happen to be bloggers themselves. Apparently, he had found my site via one of their blogs and had been trying to figure out who I was for the last month or so. He could triangulate to a certain group of people based on our common cohorts so when we bumped into each other today he asked me if I was Sassy Pants. Actually, I was with someone and he didn't want to ask me in front of them so he told me he had a question for me and would email it. Amusingly, the someone I was with was NPapaya (if you read my comments you've seen her) so asking if I was Sassy Pants would have been fine and probably quite funny all around.

Anywho, it does give a person pause when you find out someone you do know but didn't publicize your blog to is a reader. How many other people out there read it? How many have figured out who I am? What have I said that could have offended them? In general I'm a pretty open person and I'm not writing anything that I wouldn't probably say in front of other people anyway but still. It makes you wonder. Are they shocked? Horrified? Amused? Are they my co-workers? My family has no idea this blog exists. I mentioned at one point to my sister that I was taking pictures of the things I am giving away and she was all, "Why? You're so weird." I didn't tell her I was sharing it with you. I'll just let her think I'm her crazy older sister. She thinks that already so whatever.

So, do I know you? Are you reading? Do I know you're reading? Who are you if I don't know you? Feel free to post a comment or send me an email (if you know me). It's an interesting experiment this so called anonymity. Someday maybe I'll come out. But for now, I like being somewhat mysterious. You don't often get to do that in "real" life.

Your 15 minutes are up

David Blaine is a waste of my brain cells. I'm not even going to link to anything about him because I don't think he needs any more publicity. He is a masochistic exhibitionist with a death wish and I pity the poor parents of the children who die while trying to emulate him. I hope his parents have already passed on because otherwise I'm sure he's slowly killing them.

Friendster Guy sent me the following New York Times quote with the same sentiment.

"Mr. Blaine explained that these exercises are all part of his 'journey,' that they 'make people think.' Magic, he said, 'brings people together who might not come together.' Well, so does the airport."

I enjoy layovers in the airport 300% more than watching any of his stunts. Unless of course all the TVs in the concourse were showing him. Then I'd have to curl up into the fetal position in one of the bathroom stalls and wish for the end of the world.

In God We Trust

A study published in the American Sociological Review has determined "that out of a long list of ethnic and cultural minorities, Americans are less willing to accept intermarriage with atheists than with any other group, and less likely to imagine that atheists share their vision of American society." Read a little more at the Chronicle of Higher Ed here.

I know why the American public thinks this. It's because the atheists they see or envision are kind of scary. As a highly likeable, cute, sweet looking person (if I do say so myself), people are very surprised when I say I'm an atheist. I think they expect an anarchist with a leather jacket, piercings, and a moral compass that's a little askew. When I told a Catholic boyfriend of mine, who had known me for over 5 years at that point, that I was an atheist he told me point blank I had no morals. Um, ok. My confession pretty much knocked all logic out of his head and our history together meant nothing. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I instantly had no morals in his view.

In some places, coming out of the atheist closet is just as scary, or even more difficult, than coming out as gay. We atheists don’t have Will & Grace to make us look fun, spunky and benign, not to mention riddled with good taste.

I know times are changing. My thesis, an oral history of the town I grew up in, is even playing this out. You should have heard the intolerance the Catholic priests had toward Protestants in the 50s. If you were Catholic and went to a friend's funeral at a non-Catholic church you were told you were going to hell. And that's with everyone still believing in God and having religious ceremonies. There was even a rumor among the Catholic kids that if you walked around a Protestant church 3 times you'd see the devil on the front stoop. Yes, times have changed. (Maybe not in the Bible Belt but in some places.)

You know what I think? I think atheists are even more moral than most religious people. I believe this is true because we have nothing to fear in the way of repercussions for our actions and yet we're still good. We don't need to have the threat of hell to keep us on the straight and narrow, we do it anyway. Stick that in your confessional and smoke it.

Go out and hug an atheist today. They may wonder what the hell you're doing, but you'll feel better having reached out to a maligned population.

Monday, May 08, 2006

Screw Friendster Guy, I got me a new man!

This is Craig. I do not know him.

He sent me this message on MySpace:

"my word you are so precious, your such a beautiful lil gurl !"

I just threw up in my mouth a little. And vowed to get stronger locks on my door.

At the same time though, the sheer and utter lack of proper spelling, grammar, and punctuation kind of turns me on. That and his love of tractor pulls, Sponge Bob, his two kids, his 65" TV, and his hero Burt Reynolds. (I'm not making this up, I looked at his profile.)

So ladies, if the following sounds good to you, give old Craig a holla!

"who id like to meet, well, mnnnnnnnn lets see, well, i dunno, i love long hair,i love lil precious dollbabys, the cute, nieve ones, someone who doesnt have alot of ex b/f issues, would like to find some one who loves the ocean, loves to cuddle, has a strong sexual appetite, knows how to braid lil gurls hair, ,some one who likes to travel around, or sit on the couch, on a sunday, and tune in to my 65" home theatre t.v. and just cuddle, watch a movie, or just send the kids out to play, and well, i ,umm, aw hell never mind ! so, i guess if ya wanna, hang out, go out, have a realationship,date, get married, or just knock me the hell out with a barn shovel, get me down on the ground, and rape the hell outta me, check me out, and say hi......actually, hold up, forget the whole barn shovel thing, im thinking im kinda all set with that !, .........seriously !"

Sunday, May 07, 2006

I'm like Forest Gump. Only with a really high IQ. And no famous run-ins.

Or a box of chocolates. So really I'm nothing like Forest Gump except I went running today and did 8 miles! Eight miles! I don't think you are comprehending the enormity of this. If you had told me in 2003 that by 2006 I'd be training for a half marathon and actually enjoying it I would have felt your head for a fever. Or stopped your bar tab.

In January 2003 I was a gym going couch potato with no aerobic capacity. A friend of mine of fairly equal fitness level had trained the year before and completed a Danskin triathlon. Somehow she managed to convince me to sign up and do it in 2003. I am so cheap that putting down $75 to register forced me to begin training. I figured if I could actually do any of the three sections (half mile swim, 12 mile bike, and 3.2 mile run) then I'd be fine. My goals were to 1) finish and 2) not die in the process. I very slowly worked up from jogging half a mile at 5.0 on the treadmill and wanting to die, to being able to run the 3.2 mile distance (yet still wanting to die). The same went for swimming. I could only do one length (not lap) of the pool, and with my head out of the water, before I was completely out of breath. Now, I can keep going and going with my face in and out of the water (although I have not yet managed to keep my face in the water at an actual race. Too much adrenalin or starting too fast or something. I'm winded the whole time.) Biking came pretty easily and after several evil Spinning classes a mildly hilly outdoor course at my own speed wasn't so bad.

I've now done 4 triathlons, numerous 5Ks, and I needed a new challenge. I won't work out as hard at the gym if I don't have a goal so I signed up for a half-marathon this year. My friend H suckered me into it with the true warning that it fills up almost instantly every year. Faced with a looming deadline I couldn't help myself from signing up and then instantly panicked that there was no way I could go from 3 miles to 13! And yet, here I am today running 8 miles with very little problems except a knee tweak now and then. Who knew following a training program actually works?

Cinco en Mayo here I come!

Saturday, May 06, 2006

Leave nothing but footprints.

Inspired by Josh's food/sustainability comment to my last post I am choosing to write about our footprint on the earth, i.e. how much everything we do, use, throw out, or purchase affects the earth. I am lucky in that I live in a community that has a more palpable and visible consciousness of the world and our affect on it. We have cooperative grocery stores, farmer's markets, recycling and/or transfer stations, more free public transportation than most rural/small town areas, and a highly educated liberal population. Not that uneducated conservatives don't want to protect the earth, but from my experience (at Texas A&M) they are more worried about our souls than the environment. Who cares about global warming if the rapture is on its way? Luckily, that is changing.

I was thinking about my footprint. I think I'm doing pretty well, although I can always do better. I stopped all magazines and newspaper subscriptions so I'm not killing trees in that way. I bring canvas bags to the grocery store - the place I shop gives you 5 cents back for every bag you reuse and also has a large selection of local/organic/bulk/environmentally friendly/sustainable products. I don't have TV so I don't have noise on 24/7 contributing to sound pollution or electricity drain. I use reusable containers as often as possible instead of baggies and other disposable items. I don't own any paper plates or plastic cups even though the allure of such modern conveniences is evident every time I stand in front of my sink full of dishes. I don't have a dishwasher so I'm saving water and energy there as well. My apartment's lack of hot water forces me to take really quick showers, and those co-showers I've been participating in of late, well, they may or may not save any water but they contribute to the overall happiness on the planet.

I rarely buy anything via catalogue so I don't get bombarded by too many of them but I do get a couple. The next time I get Hold Everything, Land's End or LLBean I'm going to do whatever they tell me to do to take myself off the list. In addition, I'm going to take some of the steps listed at the Mail Preference Service to stop whatever other fluff is coming in, mostly credit card offers. I had taken myself off the list once but then I did a balance transfer so I was activated again. Grrr. To get your name removed from all the credit bureaus at once go here. And presto chango, no more annoying credit card offers. Until you do something "unusual" with your credit card again and then all bets are off apparently.

What could I be doing better? There is a bus stop in front of my apartment for free transportation and yet I have never taken it. Mainly because I usually do things after work and the buses don't run very often. I want to say that if you miss the 5 o'clock you're screwed. But really, I could just be making that up. I'll just take a quick trip to Google and see...Yup, I was right. You can't get there from here after about 5. I have, however, been known to ride my bike the 10-12 miles to work. I need to get it out and "jiffy lubed" and try that again.

The next time I run out of laundry detergent I'm going to buy some concentrated, good for the environment, kind like this. Not only will I use less but if you think about it the product itself uses less water to make, and the packaging can be smaller and replaced less often. My grocery store carries the full line of stuff.

I just bought the newest version of Quicken and I'm going to set up bill paying on-line so I can stop generating mail from invoices and checks.

Next step - participate in the many farmer's markets I have access to. There is literally one across the street from me. Unfortunately, I think it's on a day I tend to stay late at the gym and it's closed by the time I get there. I'll have to see about some others I could pass on my way home if I tried hard enough.

I'd give myself a B if I were grading. Maybe B-. I don't carpool, my car is not a hybrid, my apartment leaks heat like a sieve, and I tend to forget to bring the canvas bags into the store. But that's ok. I'm not going to beat myself up. Every little bit counts. How large is your footprint?

"And Man created the plastic bag and the tin and aluminum can and the cellophane
wrapper and the paper plate, and this was good because Man could then take his
automobile and buy all his food in one place and He could save that which was
good to eat in the refrigerator and throw away that which had no further
use. And soon the earth was covered with plastic bags and aluminum cans
and paper plates and disposable bottles and there was nowhere to sit down or walk, and Man shook his head and cried: "Look at this Godawful mess." ~Art Buchwald, 1970"

Friday, May 05, 2006

Cinco EN Mayo

That's right, I said Cinco EN Mayo, not Cinco DE Mayo. The difference being "In" rather than "Of" for those of you without the benefit of a minor in Spanish - or rudimentary Sesame Street. Not that my minor has been all that beneficial in an area devoid of anyone speaking Spanish. We don't even get Univision. I would have kept cable if I could have watched some telenovelas. But I digress, as usual. Anyway, although Cinco de Mayo is a great day for us gringos to get our margaritas on, I thought it might be more appropriate to declare a goal for this day, ergo Cinco en Mayo. Five in May. As in five pounds. There is no real reason besides lack of will power that I can't lose 5 pounds in May. Especially as I will be continuing to train for my half marathon the first weekend in June. If nothing else I should be running a few of those pounds off. How nice would it be if I could also eat right and lose a couple more?

We'll see how it goes. My goals tend to fall by the wayside pretty quickly. Although I am still sticking to the small mocha lattes. And small anything else that comes in sizes. Of course anything that comes in sizes should be verbotten anyway.


P.S. I changed my cell phone calling plan and I save $12 this month. Yeah!

Happy Friday!

I've been in a good mood for the last few days. Part of that is the weather -sunny, warm, springlike - part of it is that I've gotten to see Friendster Guy pretty consistently. We had lunch yesterday and a couple of my co-workers saw us. One of them, my single and sassy friend V, saw me afterward and we chatted a little. Friendster Guy is very tall and slender and V said in singsong, "Tall, lean and lanky, and ready for hanky panky." Is that the grown-up (I use the term loosely) version of Sassy and Friendster sitting in a tree? I was amused. And replied with "No comment" and a big smile.

So, my good mood. I'm not going to knock it. I'm hoping to use it to my advantage and get a bunch of stuff off my plate today. By the time Friday rolls around I'm warmed up and ready to get stuff done. What I'm doing the other four days until then is beyond me.

Oh! And someone has said I am "hot." No wonder I'm in a good mood. He didn't even say it to me but to a female friend of his/mine so it was an honest to goodness compliment with no Sassy prompting. It makes a girl feel good.

Have a great Friday everyone. Whether you're in a good mood or not. Here's a picture of some happy sculptures I took when I was on Telegraph Hill in San Francisco last year. They were just hanging out on someone's roof saying hello.

Thursday, May 04, 2006

We must have eaten something weird

I had three very strange dreams last night.

In the first, I was having a telephone interview and my family (you know, the ones I liken to Munchkin landers) were all around me and I couldn't find a quiet place to do my interview. It was very frustrating. I almost killed them.

Then, in the second, a co-worker and I won $10,000 on a scratch ticket but Elle McPherson kept telling us we couldn't collect it because we were in some sort of Union or non-profit or something else ridiculous.

And finally, in the third I was part of some human pyramid competition where each row stands on the shoulders of the next and get really high up. People kept falling and I was desperately afraid I would get hurt. I was never actually in the pile but I was dreading it.

And then, in real life, I got up to get a drink of water and Friendster Guy was talking in his sleep. He said something about "maverick". And when I said "I'll be back." He said, "Unless they try some evasive maneuvers on you." Apparently, while I was interviewing, winning money, and making pyramids, he was being a fly boy.

This is what happens when you have lobster for dinner.

"Why don't they go back to where they went to?"

I wasn't going to comment on the subject of immigration. I didn't feel qualified and I didn't know exactly how I felt on the subject. However, I am a big fan of finding out what your opinion actually is by having a reaction to someone else's. I have had a reaction to someone close to me's strong opinion that immigrants are criminals who should be sent back home. I disagree. I disagree that "illegal" immigrants are criminals. For one, that would make pretty much all of our ancestors criminals. Unless of course you are Native American and then, well, you should feel free to kick us out on our mostly white heinies.

What I think is more criminal than someone coming here for a better way of life (and the better way of life they find here is certainly not what most of us would consider even livable) is the people who already live here and pay no attention to their rights and priviliges. How many people voted in the last election? How many people born here are abusing the system to keep up their own way of life? When was the last time you howed a row, picked an apple, or bussed a table? Are these the jobs you are looking for?

I do agree that there should be some kind of checks and balances. Obviously the system isn't right as it stands now. People are paying into a system of benefits that they will never see. People legally here can't find jobs at good wages. I don't think anyone should be benefiting from the many, well, benefits of living in the US - public schools, health care, transportation, what have you, without paying into it in some way. But this includes the really, really rich US born and bred people as well. How many of them know how to work the system to get what they want and keep getting more?

The arguments for and against immigration are all very gray to me. I do want to know who is in this country. At the same time, we already have laws in place that aren't being enforced. What would happen if we actually enforced the laws we have? Maybe those laws suck. I don't know. I bet some of those same people who want to kick out all the undocumented works are also against a national ID. "Tell me where the "brown" people are but don't you dare try to track my movements! I'm an Amerkin!"

I don't think the answer is to seal off our borders. I don't think the answer is to ship everyone back to where they came from either. I'm not going to find the answer with this blog entry and neither are you. I think it's important to talk about though.

Here is an article on the subject from the Onion. It probably won't help you too much either.

I never said Big Girl Underoos was a place to learn anything.

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Always be prepared.

You know what scares me about living alone? My potential to choke on something and die without being able to do something about it.

You don't know this about me but I have a propensity toward choking on things. Or at least to think I'm choking on things. It's genetic. I'm not kidding. My Dad and I both get stuff caught in our throats now and then. With me it's melted cheese or food that is long. I have moments of panic when I feel part of the food still in my mouth while the rest of it is going down my throat. The worst was when I was in Spain and I was eating a piece of calamari. The ring had been bitten in half but there was a piece of, for lack of a better word, sinew that connected the two halves together. I swallowed and realized I had a piece of calamari dangling in the back of my throat stuck to the one still in my mouth. Once I established that I was not in imminent danger, i.e. that I was still able to breathe, I tried to unobtrusively extricate the offending morsels from my maw. The two women I was with continued their conversation until I had almost removed it and they finally noticed that I had my hand halfway down my throat. Anyway, I obviously lived to tell the tale.

Well that was a completely asinine story. But it's something I think about on a fairly regular basis. I often look around my apartment to see what I could use to perform a self-hiemlich. Don't look at me like that. You know you have some stupid thing you think about and plan for too. Perhaps something like a nuclear holicaust or bird flu that will make it impossible to get food so you have a stock pile of Chef Boyardee and Dasani in a closet somewhere. Or perhaps you know the exact things you would grab in a fire and how you would swing down off the roof making sure to avoid the neighbor's grill and lawn tools. Or what you would grab as a weapon in the case of a break-in. I must say I am fairly unprepared in that scenario. Besides a lamp and maybe some Aquanet there is little between me in my bedroom/bathroom and an intruder. Perhaps I should get me some andirons, you know, just in case.

'Save the Males' 'cuz good lord knows they aren't going to save themselves

Thank goodness this guy cleared a few things up for me. I had no idea my feminist leanings were destroying the moral fiber, nay, the whole structure of our society. Just in case you too were duped into thinking you were fighting the "patriarchy" but in fact are a victim of a plot to bring down the birth rate by spreading sexual chaos among men and women, I share some "facts" with you below. Did you realize that by stamping out "sexism," feminists really want to expunge heterosexuality? I had NO idea. It's a gosh darn good thing I stumbled upon Save the Males.

I quote some of my favorite things from this article below [with color commentary]:

"Let's begin by reaffirming our distinct male or female identities...
The essence of masculinity is power. Isn't it obvious? It's what women respond to [that and bank statements. Give me Sylvester Stallone with a portfolio and I'm all over it. What ever happened to Sylvester Stallone anyway?]. Similarly, men are drawn to vulnerability in women. We want to protect them. [Except for those guys who want to beat them, rape them, and force them to submit to their every will. But hey, masculinity is power (see above if you don't believe me). Abuse of power is par for the course.]

To equalize power is to eliminate sexual distinction. This doesn't mean that woman are not powerful and effective as women, but not by becoming men.

Men -- steer clear of any sexual relationship where you are not in charge. [Because otherwise you are a pussy. And real men aren't pussies. Real men are powerful. If you aren't raping the woman, you damned well should be. You're in charge buckeroo. No matter what she says. No only means no until you wear her down with your masculinity.]

Just as femininity should be respected, so should masculinity. [Ok fine. I'll give him that.]

You emasculate a man when you take away his power. [But only because he 's told he is emasculated by society when his power is taken away. And what the hell is this "power" anyway? Can he make himself invisible? I'd be pretty ticked if they took that power away from me too. You get used to walking around with no clothes on. It saves a ton of cash.]

A husband will consult his wife but eventually someone has to make a decision. A man who is ruled by his wife is less a man. He feels like a little boy with his mother. [And we all know all men hate their Moms. The woman who nurtured them, kissed their booboos, held them after their Dad called them a wuss for crying after they broke their femur. And on the decision front, when was the last time the decisions didn't fall to the woman? What to eat, where to go on vacation, what schools the kids should go to...I could go on but you get the picture.]

On the other hand, when his wife accepts his leadership, he feels like a man. Women help to make men. [Biologically, I'm pretty sure it's the other way around.]

Similarly, a wife who follows her husband's leadership feels more like a woman. If she can't follow him, she should be married to someone else. [Here, here! If only I had someone to help me pick out my clothes in the morning. And tell me what to eat for breakfast. Or tell me what I should be cooking. Then, and only then, will I be fulfilled as a woman. Until that time I'm going to keep trying to find me a real man who won't value my opinions, will put me in my place, and will lead me around like dog. Wish me luck on my quest.]

There is no such thing as "equality" in terms of power. (Feminist "equality" is really a ploy for female domination. For example, you don't hear feminists calling for equality at universities where women often outnumber men by 2-1 .) [Are there any physics majors out there who'd like to refute this. I'm only a girl so I don't know anything about science or math but I think I might have had a boyfriend once who explained to me the whole negative/positive, potential/kinetic energy thing. I didn't get it though. Science is too hard for my brain to wrap around. Now cosmetology? I'm all over that.]

Men should avoid opinionated, aggressive, demanding women. It's too late to save them. This will spare you a great deal of time, money and anguish. [Oh good lord. I don't want a man who thinks like this anyway. Good riddance to bad rubbish. My dating pool is full enough as it is.]

The essence of femininity is for a woman to depend on the man she loves. [Wait? Did they have the internet in 1950? Did I just not check the date on this article?]

The intimate male-female dynamic is for woman to entrust worldly power to her husband, and for him to use it to make her happy. [Or dominate her and make her want to die with every breath.]

Man wants power. Women want love (not power.) They ARE different. [So glad he cleared that up. Does that mean that men don't want love? Why do they want a woman then? For sex? Ok. Then maybe all the guys should get together and just use each other for sex. They can play out power struggles all they want and not have to worry about making anyone happy. Problem solved.]

A man wants to make the woman he loves happy . Does he consult her? How else can he please her? [This is not how my past plays out people. I don't think men know this one. I'm all for it but lording it over her is not the way to do it.]

She reciprocates by making him happy. The energy flows. [Translation: She reciprocates by giving him blowjobs, beer and home cooked meals.]

Woman must give man the power to love her. If she is "strong, bold and independent," as she is being taught, he becomes redundant ( i.e. the true feminist agenda.) [Don't be fooled by the true feminist agenda ladies. Stand by your man. Be weak, timid, and dependent. You know, like all the mail order brides they are importing over here to make up for the lack of feminine women in the US of A. Like the author of this article is doing by the way.]

Woman shows she loves a man by empowering him, by surrendering and trusting. Women want to be possessed by a man's love. (They are not men.) [Actually, what I really want is some dark chocolate, a romantic comedy in the DVD player, and someone to rub my feet. I want to be possessed by a man's love as much as Linda Blair wanted to be possessed by the devil in The Exorcist. I want to be loved in an equal partnership, not possessed.]

Of course the contract breaks down if the man doesn't keep his end of the bargain. He must be her champion, loyal and loving to the end. If this contract breaks down, the marriage is over. [Well, at least we agree on that. Of course he also means if the guy is whipped the relationship should be over as well. You failed as a man now your marriage must fail. No matter that you as a couple are happier than anyone else you know. Too bad pussy boy. Your marriage is based on equality, sharing and communication. Get thee to divorce court.]

A feminist tends to try to control a man, to tell him how to please her (without being asked, and as if she always knows what she really wants.) These relationships fail. [Aaagghhhh!!! WHAT? "as is she always knows what she really wants." As if a man's going to know what I want more than I do. I can't be glib about this particular passage. I just can't. I'm not even going to give this guy the benefit of being a whacko. He's not. He's more scary than that. He's sane and really believes this shit. He's very, very dangerous.]

A woman is a vehicle by nature. She is waiting for a man's call. She wants to be used by the man she loves for a higher purpose. One such purpose is to create a healthy happy family. [Or, to be Napolized. After all, you do donuts with your car. You can mistreat your other "vehicle" the same way. Why not? It's her nature and she's just waiting for your call to fulfill her higher purpose.]

A man, therefore, should have a clear idea of what he wants, and the role he wants a woman to play. Then he finds a wife who meets HIS criteria instead of contorting himself for every sexually attractive woman he meets. [I agree. If you are a dickhead, I don't want to be with you. I feel very bad for the woman who ends up with you. Hopefully she finds some feminist blogs, cracks you on the skull with a kitchen appliance, and gets the hell out of there.]

A man's first passion should always be his work. As my father tried to tell me, "a man's work is his backbone." [And a man's backbone should be broken by the will of a strong woman. In addition, work isn't exactly all that nice to snuggle up next to at night. Enjoy your loneliness.]

Women think they want to be a man's first love, but they don't respect these men. [Huh?]

Age-old standards of masculinity still apply. [Since when?] A man must supply just leadership and sustenance to his family. Therefore he must have control.

These days men have no way to measure themselves. They are like little boys looking for love. A woman needs to be enlisted, not entreated. [Are you feeling patriotic ladies? Sign yourselves up.]

Woman's nature is to nurture and love her husband and children. She wants to be needed, honored and loved in return. A woman should never be taken for granted. (Nor should a man.) [Well duh.]

When a woman identifies with her husband, they become one in marriage. If they remain "independent," they remain roommates open to every temptation. Certainly a woman has her own interests and career but these are not her first priority. [Ok, I vaguely resemble that remark. Not the career priority thing but the independence in a marriage comment. But it goes both ways buddy. If there is nothing holding you together, it isn't going to work.]

A woman has a limited "window of opportunity" (approximately 12 years) in which to start a family. Millions have been duped into concentrating on a career instead of a husband. They are consigned to lonely frustrated bitter lives thumbing well-worn copies of "The Vagina Monologues". [Yup. He described my life to a T. Bitter? Check. Lonely? Check. Frustrated? Check. Only I also have The Feminist Mystique and Lorena Bobbitt's memoir in addition to the Vagina Monologues.] [I'm guessing his "12 years" is ages 18-30. Although it's more difficult, women can have kids until 45 or more. That's closer to 25-30 years to start a family. the only duping is if you fall for his shit.]

A woman wants to be an extension of her husband. She is the spiritual ground in which he plants his seed. [Barf] She is the recipient of his spirit. [SUPER Barf!] By "accepting" him wholeheartedly, he "belongs" to her. This union results in psychological maturity for both. Together they create a new world and bring children into it." [I like the concept of HIM "belonging" to HER. But I've never heard of psychological maturity coming to a man as a result of sex. Quite the opposite in fact.]

Blah, blah, blah. He goes on a little more but you get the picture. He has plenty of other articles to get your blood boiling. Enjoy.

Stick it to the man

You could never, ever pay me enough to be the White House Press Secretary. I would rather work at a septic system company with the logo We're number 1 in the number 2 business* than subject myself to that.

If you are concerned about free speech, check out Steven Colbert at the White House Correspondents dinner. It's a little long but he certainly takes his moment in the spot light to stick it to Washington. Hopefully his body doesn't wash up on the shore of the Potomac.

* Actual tag line I saw the other day.

Monday, May 01, 2006

And in the name of the Lollipop Guiiiild, we wish to welcome you to Munchkin Land!

Friendster Guy and my Mom met for the first time this weekend. That leaves only 5 more parents to go between the two of us.

My Mom said, "He seems very nice but it's hard to tell because he's so quiet. But that's probably a good thing because between you, me and your siblings it's impossible to get a word in edgewise in our family anyway."

There might as well be someone listening to the rest of us. That job is now filled by my brother-in-law, P. It took me years before P and I ever had a conversation and it's still pretty sporadic. My family is loud and fast. And small in stature. My Mom's only 4'11". I feel bad for Friendster Guy when he finally gets the full effect of all 10-12 of us at once. It's like entering Munchkin Land complete with dancing and sound effects. As an only child it took my X years to get used to all the motion and frenzy and overlapping conversations without wanting to hide. He slowly uncurled from fetal just in time for the divorce. But my family has adopted him as their own. He's going down for my sister's college graduation party with my whole family. And I'm not even going to be there!

Anyway, on slight prompting my Mom admitted that Friendster Guy was cute too. Which he is, and handsome to boot. Not just that, but we look cute together if I do say so myself. He sent me a picture of the two of us from this weekend and I swear to god I opened it like 20 times at work today just to look at us - or rather him. I showed it to anyone who stopped in my office. Luckily, the only people who stopped by were at least vaguely interested in the Sassy Pants/Friendster Guy saga. I sat there giggling, giddy, and goofy for half the day. I guess those behavior don't go away, no matter how mature you think you might be. Tee hee! : )