Why?

Why are drunk people so fucking loud? I'm including myself in this, of course, as I'm loud when I'm sober... But seriously? Do we just forget all rules of propriety and social kindness after imbibing a bit too much? In those lovely 18th and 19th century novels, being "too much in our cups" doesn't sound so bad for the innocents around us... but when I'm sitting on my couch watching a movie on a Saturday night and the people around me have partaken in too much sauce, I don't find it quite as amusing... Well, I guess others have said the same for me at one point or another, so I should stop being so reactionary. For now, at least... Cheers!

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Unsettled

... and unsure why.

Saddam Hussein was just executed. Listen, I'm not someone who thinks that the man is innocent or shouldn't be punished--he was an awful dictator who kept his people in constant fear through mass kilings and torture. Iraq wasn't more peaceful before the US invasion because of some goodwill on his part, but because it was a police state. I don't agree with what the United States has done by going into Iraq, but that's not because I think the Iraqis were better off under Hussein. I just don't think what they have now is any better.

But something about a hanging (or pictures of a man about to be hanged) unsettles me. I have a gut reaction to it--an emotional, visceral, negative reaction. I don't see how hanging someone, even a mass murderer, makes anything better. Is the world composed of living energies and now that his evil is dead, we're all fine and balanced now? I don't believe that or any other argument for executions... I think that capitol punishment is simply our base need for revenge and violence institutionalized in order to make it seem rational and logical... not to mention legal.

But then I think about the scope of someone like Hitler or Pol Pot's crimes... or someone who were to hurt my family... and a blazing anger rises up. I clench my fists and think about how I can hurt them. Or if someone were to attack me, how I would fight back so that they would never hurt again... Is that anger the same feeling that justifies (and would one day lead me to condone) a hanging or lethal injection?

I don't know, I guess that a situation like Hussein's brings gut reactions out of all of us and our individual natures move us towards one view or the other. I wholeheartedly believe that people feel what they feel sans thought. We use words and rational to create "reasons" that help us feel above our nature and justify our "illogical" emotions. So which is more telling to my true feelings: my small moment of rage at the thought of someone hurting my family or my complete disgust when looking at the picture of someone (even as detestable as Hussein) hanging? I'd like to think the latter and that my life-long reasons for being anti-capitol punishment and war are justifications for my innate aversion to the taking of any life for any reason.*

I just hope that I never have a situation where my family is hurt and I have to test this theory. And that we can change our society and world enough where we stop allowing dictators like Hussein to prosper... then we won't have to justify hanging them later for crimes we tacitly allowed them to commit.

*I know, I know, I'm pro-choice... doesn't that throw a wrench in this whole thing, you ask? Personally I'd rather leave that argument for another day, k? I'm being a little too philosophical and introspective for noon on a Saturday as it is.

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P.S.S.

My husband is aghast at the cloning thing and randomly pulled some factoid out of his head about how this will lead to the demise of food as we know it because of disease (you know, if all animals are genetically identical, they are genetically susceptible to the same disease) and gave the example of the Michel Banana as proof. I thought he was making it up as some knee-jerk reaction, but in fact, he's right. See this Science article and judge for yourself.

I know we totally sound like paranoid natural food health nuts, but we're really not. I had Chex Mix and Diet Coke for dinner... I just have a hard time trusting "scientific" rulings on food these days. Remember, not that long ago scientists and the FDA all swore that margarine was going to save us all from butter. And we all know how well that turned out. Trans fat, anyone?

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P.S.

Why is it ethical and not "against God" for us to eat an artifically created (nay, CLONED) animal, but not for women to have easy access to the morning after pill? Huh, FDA, why is that? Guess the anti-cloning lobbyists don't have as much pull as the Religious ant-choice ones... You know, like the President.

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My Husband Made a Good Move and Other Truths About My Bum

My Holiday is officially over... I have bronchitis, feel like death, didn't even comb my hair today for work and still managed to be objectified by a stranger...

"Ma'am, do you have a light?"
"No, I don't smoke"
"Oh. Well, do you have a boyfriend?"
"No, I have a husband."
"Oh. Well, that was a good move... Tell him he did a good job."

Yes, sir, I will, as soon as he gets home. And maybe I'll take up smoking too, just to complete your day, luvah boy.

In other news, I'm not sure which of these things gives me more of the heevey-bajeveeys:

One day eating these cloned cows


or

the thought of Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld young and in neutral-toned polyester...


Yeah, you're right. A young and virile looking Cheney does invoke much more fear than something as silly as cloned food. I mean, imagine how many more Americans he could have killed before his 7 heart attacks? Cloned cows don't carry any of the ill-tasting karma that man does... Mmmmm, good karma hamburger.

Finally, I would like to take this time to gives thanks for one of the few perks of working for the man: I have a four day weekend thanks to President Ford's passing. I guess that's a fair trade for him introducing the world to the ills of Rumsfeld and Cheney, right? Mmmmm, day of mourning for man who pardoned Nixon and ushered in the era of the New Right. Yum Yum.



*Photos captured from CNN and Wonkette...*

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XMAS is the new Christmas

1) Since when is there a "new" blogger? Gah, it's a been a long time since I've logged in. Not to mention the fact that as a 25ish year old, I sign in as an "old" blogger... Google is ruining my life.

2) We got exhibition approval! Coming soon (well, 2008) to an important global health site near you (7 to be exact)-- all my free time!

3) It's the Holiday Season! I get three days off! To go to Arkansas_ ... or is it "!"?

4) I love Dawson's Creek. And DVR recorders that enable me to watch Dawson's Creek. And the fact that Tom Cruise has only sorta ruined Joey for me, but only when with Dawson. Pacey is still sacred to me. And that's all the Christmas I need.

5) My local was robbed during trivia. Notice that the comments are more focused on the fact that the City Desk called it a hipster bar when it is no way obscure and cool enough to be called hipster anymore like that's a bad thing. That is, that being a hipster bar is a good thing. Wait, I'm confused... Do I like hipsters? Regardless, at least the Wonderland does have its "I live in a marginally safe neighborhood which means I'm not racist like you people who choose not to live where you might get mugged every day so there" cool factor back.

6) I am not only a lame blogger, I am also full of bad blog clichés.

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Slow Tube

My postings are going through the slow internet tube these days. I probably won't be writing much until after the holidays as I'll be back and forth to Arkansas and in and out at work. I might get some written, might not. If I don't, I'll be back full force in January (with a new design, even!), so I guess I'll "see" y'all then if not before...

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PS

I am currently enjoying the cheese/apples/pears from Harry and David that Em got us as a "thank you" while the guinea pig is enjoying the box.

Well done, Emily!

Best. Present. Ever.

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Mourning

My friend has moved out... I'm super sad. She's still in DC (and will probably/hopefully/better stay damnabit) staying at her brother's new place in Tenleytown. Although I've never had good luck living with people including my spouse (as some of my regular readers can attest), having Ms. Em around was WONDERFUL. We haven't had this much time to spend together since we were in high school and oblivious to adult responsibilities. Sure I have my couch back, but my best friend just moved out for good... Sigh. At least she's still in DC, right?

Love you Em!!!!!!!

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Taxation Without Representation

Today is a good day. The Democrats have taken the House, will probably take the Senate, Rumsfeld has resigned (for an Iran-Contra guy, but still), there are Democrat governors in Southern states like Arkansas, and Missouri (Missouri!!!) has protected the rights of researchers and patients to use stem cell research. Now that the voters have finally expressed what I've been saying for 6 years (ahem, Bush sucks and Iraq is a really bad idea), let's see what the Dems do with it. But, for one day, let's just lay our cynicism aside and bask in the idea that America can be a better place.

Well, that is, if you are actually one of the "privileged" Americans that have the right to vote. That's right, I, unlike all you other state-residing citizens, didn't get to vote for a House or Senate member. Well, I did, but it was for a "shadow" one. You know, like an imaginary friend Senator. Why? Because as a resident (mind you, federal income tax paying resident) of the District of Columbia, I have no voting representative in the United States Congress. Basically, the Federal Government can do whatever it wants to guinea pig DC and I have no office to call and no vote for recourse. That's right people, in 2006 in the United States of America, there are 500,000 citizens of the United States who pay taxes and are legal citizens, many of whom work for the federal government, THAT HAVE NO RIGHT TO VOTE. Sure, we get to vote for President, but seriously, what has the President done for any of us lately? Oh, that's right, he's changed his license plates.

If this bothers you at all, I mean, that there are disenfranchised citizens (and not surprisingly, says Ms. Cynic, a majority are black and/or working class and/or liberal), please call your representatives because there is currently a bill going through the House to give DC one vote in Congress. Apparently voting is a privilege and not a right these days... Guess it's a footnote on the Constitution that I missed.

But, if you're totally cool with this glaring violation of democracy in the United States, don't worry about it. Just make sure you actually use your vote before someone takes it away from you.

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I'm going to kick you in the face...

...if you don't keep moving into the middle of the Metro. Seriously. There are people trying to get into the doors before they lose an arm. I know you just LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE that pole right near the door, but you know what? You're blocking my way, you yuppie twat. I promise, if you move towards the middle at Chinatown, you WILL be able to get off at Metro Center. I promise! Why? Because I've been doing this for three years and every single day, THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS! EVERYONE GETS OFF THE FUCKING TRAIN AT METRO CENTER!!! EVERYONE! When the train is empty, it's really easy to get off of it, Mr. Suit, promise. So don't give me a dirty look, asshole, when I tell you to keep moving... And seriously don't give me another dirty look one stop later as you (and everyone else) easily get off the train.

Jesus Christ.

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Farmer Zombie Joe at the Annual Hoe-Down

Whew, I'm tired. And, I admit, a slight bit hungover this morning. Last night I celebrated Halloween with some friends across the river and had a little too much fun. I was a zombie this year and actually pretty happy with how the costume turned out (the pics are on a friend's camera, but I'll try to post them soon)... The past couple of years I've had some pretty elaborate and good costumes--I'm sure my friends out there will remember Ghostbuster Stantz with working proton pack (shot silly string instead of proton ray) and Tammy Faye Baker, Lee Press On nails and eyelashes galore...

This year we had a public event at work and I just couldn't come up with a costume idea. All my Halloween chutzpah was gone. I was seriously stressing over it as I'm aught to do. I finally settled on a zombie and in fact, this was probably the first time I've ever been an actual "scary" character... well, Tammy Faye was a frightening figure ablaze in fuschia horror, but you know what I mean. Anyhow, Zombie Farmer turned out to be a lot of fun. Creative use of green eyeshadow and copious amounts of white face paint and I was ready to rock and roll on the cheap.

The party I went to was a lot of fun. I only a knew a couple of the people from my old job at NARA, so at first the party was small talk ("where do you work/live/etc"), but after I became the virgin sacrifice to the Karaoke gods ("we belong to the night, we belong to the thunder, we belong...") everyone threw aside the niceties and began the karaoke battle. I ended up staying until 2:30 and probably sang during most of the songs. I really really really like karaoke. I mean, really really like it. Like, wish-I-had-my-own-machine-so-when-I-was-bored-at-home-I-could-throw-Karaoke parties-by-myself really like it.

I don't have too much snark to share, sadly... I know I promised more, but not much has happened to me lately* and I'm in just a generally good mood. I know, shocker. The party was a run-of-the-mill party, some fun costumes, boozing, so no need to recount:
and then I said to Joe the "don't ask don't tell" sailor, "blah" and he said, "blah" and then one of the Princess Leia's brought me a drink and said, "blah"... Riveting huh?

Actually, there was this one girl who kinda weirded me out. She took the karaoke a little too seriously. She was totally the kind of girl who when she saw on the invite there would be karaoke, got all excited and thought, "oh, a chance to show off my voice!" She kept "real singing" and moving the mike to and fro based on her voice volume. She had a major "serious face" problem and at one point, during a moving group sing of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" attempted to conduct us. Seriously, she was keeping the beat for us! Moving her serious little hands up and down to keep time for us less professional singers. For karaoke!!!! WTF? The girl probably took some voice lessons and sang in a college choir group and has it in her head that she can actually "sing." Dude, I took voice lessons and was in choir, but it's karaoke!!!! KARAOKE!!! In a person's house! At a halloween party!!! While people are dressed up as Princess Leia and Zombies!!! And the kicker? She wasn't even in a costume... Hmmm, maybe that was her costume! Professional Karaoke Singer, like in that bad Gwenyth Paltrow movie where Huey Lewis is her Dad and which spawned that awful song that was on the radio for forever (Groovin' Together or whatever)... Now I get it! Hahahaha!

Best. Costume. Ever.



*This didn't really "happen" to me, which is good as you'll see, but I was on the northbound train at the Bethesda Metro when this awful tragedy occured. We heard this scream and then my train shut off for about 10 minutes before finally going forward. All the lights were off so I couldn't really tell what was happening, but there were all these noises and people freaking out. So creepy. And very upsetting that it seems more people in DC were concerned with their commutes than the fact that a woman died. Typical DC attitude. I keep forgetting that the guy sitting next to me on the train is responsible for making the world go round all by himself. Silly me.

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Blah

By the way, I hate writing update post like the one below... but I haven't spoken to the out-of-towners in a while and it's one of the few ways I have to keep up with people. I promise that my next entries will be much more topical and way less diary.

I can't believe I'm apologizing for a blog entry. God, I'm neurotic...

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My Summer Vacation: Razorbacks, Bougie Cars, and Balls Galore

Marty Moose: Sorry, folks! We're closed for two weeks to clean and repair America's favorite family fun park. Sorry, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh!

Well, my summer vacation was nowhere as eventful as the Griswold Family's, but hell, I'm just happy I finally got to take some time off! Even if it was October before it happened...

Anyhow, that's why I haven't been posting; I was in a third world country otherwise known as "Arkansaw". Actually, I'm from the Land of Wal-Mart and Tyson's Chicken, so in fact, my "hometown" (actually 4 cities that run into each other) has become a small metropolitan area of around 500,000. Northwest Arkansas is pretty hoppin' these days. To give you some perspective, when I left for college 7 years ago, the population of my region was around 150,000. So yeah, there are Barnes and Noble Booksellers where there used to be old men driving tractors. In fact, the week that I went home the new, amazing, state-of-the suburban-art shopping center, the Pinnacle Promenade, opened. It's similar to the outdoor-shopping center the Plaza in Kansas City. And they're building ANOTHER similar style mall (Pleasant Crossing) just over the way. TWO MALLS!! In Rogers!!!! WTF?! Needless to say, I spent the whole weekend singing "Little Boxes" (the theme from Weeds and before that a famous folk anthem sung by the likes of Pete Seeger). I sang it so much I drove my entire family insane. "Little Boxes, on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky-tacky..." Well you get the idea. But in case you don't, here's a picture:




Other than coming home to an entirely new town than the one I last saw at XMAS, my trip to AR was great. My Grandpa's better than I expected him to be, although it's still hard to see a great American farmer weak and frail. He still has his temperament, though, and I ended up being kindly ordered to drive him around all weekend. For example, while we were the first quarter of the Arkansas/Auburn game (Go Hogs!), Grandpa sits up, starts taking off his permanent oxygen tank, switching tubes to his "travel" tank, moving his bed tray and asking me "You wanna drive around and listen to this on the radio?" As much as it sounded like it was a question, it was not. My grandfather expresses his opinion by saying something, anything, at all. A firm yes from his is "Well, that'd be alright..." I had a wonderful time and hope he feels well enough to take some more drives when I come home for the Holidays. It was really nice to scoot around town (get to the grocery store in about 10 minutes and home within the hour!) and get out of the city for a while. The kicker? They put me in first class on the way home! "Would you like some more wine?" "Yes, please!"

Since getting back from Arkansas, I have been working like a fiend to catch up. The curator and I are no longer dancing in circles and things are moving forward. Amazing. I was getting ready for a new song or I was going to shoot someone. Emily is still staying with us, so most of my friend energy is going to her...sorry for the lack of phone calls everyone... I'm having a great time with my alternative family, so y'all just have to wait until it breaks up.

But don't fret, I will leave you will a small update regarding the teaser from my last post--I wouldn't want to leave you hanging... I know how much all of you anticipate my posts. I know, I'm just that sexy. Anyhow, the teaser was about my end of season kickball events, so without further ado: we lost our first round in the tournament, but played really cohesively. Next season, we'll at least not be last... The best part was the party that night (open bar $5) at RNR in Chinatown. RNR was formerly a Coyote Ugly, and it must be said that it seems that the bar kept much of the same staff and clientele if you know what I'm saying...including the bizzaro Hill-types who were wearing SUITS! To a dance club! God I hate Hill-types... Anyhow, the mood was such that near the end of the night, even I was dancing on the bar! But it wasn't just random drunk slutty dancing. I swear it had a very important cultural point to make about the variety of women's body shapes. Really!!! During the beginning of my anthem "Baby Got Back" my teammates dragged me up to the bar to shake the junk in my trunk. All the other women up there were really skinny, assless, white women. I mean, I might be white, but I sure as hell ain't assless. Pear-shapes represent, what? what?! I have to admit that my favorite thing about dancing on the bar is that my teammates are almost all employees of the Feminist Majority. So, essentially, my lovely feminist friends were begging me to go dance and sexually objectify myself! All I gotta say is that there isn't much that vodka tonics, mixed with butt-pride songs, won't get me and my ample hips to do.

Well, folks. That's all I got for now. I've had lots of people annoying me on the subway and lots of new music/books/movie finds. But, as I said before, all my energies are going into actually hanging out with people in the real world. So, time for some dinner (Oop, there's the boy now), some TV, and maybe even some ice cream later tonight. This is all you're getting for a while, folks. Mmmmm, ice cream.

PS We got a steal on a 2002 Honda Accord EX! It even has leather seats. Eek. I feel very Bourgie now, as my flaming landlord would say. Oh well... Bourgie happens to the best of us.

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No, I'm not dead...

I've just been out of town, busy interacting with people in the non-cyber world, and/or feeling just plain lazy...

I will post soon I promise. Just to hold you off, here's a teaser:

"Even though I knew it was a hopeless situation... oppressed as I was under the shadow of the Washington Monument and overwhelmed by the enormity of our impending loss... I got back up, and, ignoring the mud now caked on my pants, shirt, and hands, I ran... I ran and ran and ran... Coach's voice echoed in my ears: "If you fall, get back up!" So, I did. And I made it to base. And even though we lost on that crisp fall morning, we all felt like Kickball champions in our hearts...and even more importantly, we felt like a true team."

I know, you can't wait.

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Gimpy Elephant George and His 6-Inch Heels

New people just moved into the flat upstairs. They are so fucking loud it sounds like landmines going off up there! They walk up and down the stairs making so much noise that my friend said they must be "gimps" (although this was after she searched for the nicer term of disabled) and my hubby said they "sound fat" (without searching for any nicer way to say that). By the end of the morning that we didn't get to sleep through and waste away, we had decided they were actually gimpy fatties wearing high heels who really really really get excited about stairs.

I'm being really hard on these kids, I know. In fact, they don't appear to be either, unless you call young and fresh-out-of-the-dorm gimpy and fat. I'm sure they are really nice people; they just haven't lived in an apartment/house with professionals before. I'm going to give them a couple of days before I lay down the noise law. Ambient noise is fine, but treating shared living space like you're still in college isn't. I know, I know, I sound like a cranky old person. But you know what? I am a cranky old person these days! I have a job and greying hair. I complain about "kids these days". I love when I can just go home, get in my pjs, and go to bed at 8:30pm after watching "Murder She Wrote." Okay, I'm kidding on the last one, but you get the point. I don't want a heard of elephants living above me; it makes me cranky and we all know how bad it is when I'm cranky...

But no worries friends, I'll break 'em in nice and easy with my Southern Charm and winning smile. By the end of the week, we'll have no more Gimpy Elephant George and his cadre of Heely-McHeelersons. Firm and fair, people. Firm and fair...

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Sleepy Sleep

Since my houseguest is still sleeping, I thought I'd post a little ditty.

Em's visit has been great. Just been going to work and coming home to a larger house, basically. I got the boy and the girl and we're all a little family. It's nice. Although, next week I seriously gotta get back into my schedule of going to the gym and going to bed before midnight. Things are still really crazy at work, although I definitely don't feel like the "new girl" anymore. How can you when the security guard tells you as you walk in, "You wearing my favorite boots today, miss. I love those boots!" When auxiliary personnel keeps dibs on your wardrobe, you've obviously made some sort of an impression, right?

Other than my growing relationship with the security staff, things are insanely busy for all of us at work. I know, I know, I always say that, but we really are in crunch time. The shift from planning to designing is about to happen. I feel like I'm dancing in circles half of the time, unable to do what I need to do because I need something from someone who's unable to do what they need to do because they need something I'm unable to do because of them. I just gotta step up and figure out a way to make this phase work. Sometimes it's hard adjusting to my level of authority--I slip back into being a peon instead of a peer. I'm young and have a lot of responsibility, especially for my first job. I'm not always sure how to use it, what the boundaries are, you know? It's like in chess, I never use my Queen even though she's the most powerful piece. I always lose her because I'm afraid of losing her. I guess, though, that when my biggest complaint these days is figuring out how to make an exhibition, things are pretty good.

All in all, things are great. We're still on the lookout for a used car, but that's about the largest of our worries. And I'm going home to Arkansas at the end of the week, which will be a great break from the city. I can piddle! Piddling is something my Grandma taught me--just go out, walk around, shop in flea markets, or sale racks, or wherever and all by yourself with no general purpose. Piddling really centers me and I haven't had a chance to do it in a long time.

I promise to post more scathing criticism of the idiots around me soon. I've had several run-ins lately and I know you can't wait for me to share. There's a particular gem about windstorms and starving children in the Phillipines. I personally find these "life updates" hard to write and rather saccharine. I'm sure they are just as boring to read, but whattayagoingtodo when you have long-distance friends you constantly fail to email and call back?

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Trapped in the...CT

My best friend, who was supposed to get here last week and save all you people from reading my asinine entries, has been trapped at her mom's place in Connecticut. Apparently the state recognized the potential the girl has and decided to keep her. At least she's not trapped in the closet! Bad and outdated joke, sorry. Anyhow, after colds and car trouble, she's finally heading here tomorrow! Yippee! Hilarity ensues!

Since my peep couldn't get here, I had another lazy hazy weekend. Cooked a lot, lost a bunch of chess games to my more spatially intelligent hubby, watched the awesome Hog game (I'm becoming a latent Razorback fan these days) and stayed up way too late drinking wine and watching Office mash-ups of Dwight on YouTube. Ah, it really is the little things in life that really make life worth living. And make it easier to justify that I've broken my publicly-made pact to stop ingesting empty calories.

Whatever, chess burns a lot of calories!

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Drunkification... I mean Clarichol... Oh Drat!

I'm writing a quick caveat to my earlier post where I stated I was going to start drinking and eating less crap, including booze. Since some of my readers apparently only skim what their supposed "friend" writes (I'm looking at you Fran),* I feel propelled by peer pressure to say, I AM NOT GIVING UP DRINKING! I am just as cool as everyone else! I am not the weirdo teetollar! I rock and roll with the best of them! Please still like me? I'll do anything!* Please be my friend!? Pleeeeeeeeaaaase!!!!!!

sob sob sob sob sob sob sob*

Okay, that's all I had to say. Ciao.

*I love you Fran!
*Well, except continue to consume copious amounts of calories derived from horribly overpriced fermented grains because I am trying to not be such a fatass and also save money for better things like vacation.
*That's me crying uncontrollably because I'm just not awesome

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I get the point...

My Grandpa is having to go into hospice. He went from independent old person to, I don't really want to say it, but...to dying. This blows. The past couple of years have been filled with death and I'm really fucking tired of it. Both of my grandmas, one of my best friends from high school, my dad's best friend. Okay, Life, I get the point. We all die at some time. Class over. I don't need any more lessons.

On a brighter note, I asked for more comments and I got them. Since comments often get buried way below, I thought I'd share my successful community project with everyone. For example, in response to my disgust at the 9/11 coin, I was blessed with this little gem:

Anonymous said...
there r bettr things in life than whininhg about 911 coinz. u need2learn2get alife.

HAHAHAHAHA!!!! I checked my statcounter and it seems like it's some kid from Weston Public Schools in Connecticut. You'd think one of the richest school districts in the country would have better English teachers. And what's more, twerp's entry link was a search for "kittens." Kittens!!!!! From the kid that tells me I "need2learn2get alife" HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

I replied (because you know I totally had to, even if it is some 10th grade putz):

Yeah, there are. Like learning how to spell.

You're probably just mad because you bought ten of the coins and I've hurt your little feelings. I mean, feelingz.

Peace out, byatch.

And just because I might mock, dear readers, please don't hesitate in leaving thoughtful comments like those featured above. Without you I'd have nothing to write about but the commercialization of 9/11 and other "whininhg" about world events. And that just wouldn't be any fun, now would it?

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Bosom Buddies

My best friend from home is coming to stay with me! Yippee! She just got back from a whirlwind Southeast Asia/Africa trip and now she's trying to figure out what's she's doing next. The only thing we have planned so far is the Arkansas vs. 'Bama game on Saturday. Since it's going to be televised on national tv, we're going to find some other Hog fans and pig sooouuuiiieeeeee till we pass out.

Basically, though, all this means is some good quality friend time for me and no blogs for you. I know, you're absolutely devastated. Please, really, stop crying, it's embarrassing.

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Fool Me Once...

Okay, so apparently this "special edition" DVD sctick is the new black.

LOTR (Lord of the Rings for those of you not cool enough to be in the abbreviation know) is now being released with the theatrical version on one side and the extended on the other... after many people (ahem, Allison) bought both anyhow. Mainly because they (ahem, Allison) just couldn't wait the three months for the extended release. I don't think I'll be getting this as I'm fine and dandy with giving away an extra hour of my time to watch my extended versions. Who wouldn't want more time with hobbits?

Also, and more likely to affect my bank account, Superman is getting a new box set, "The Christopher Reeve Superman Collection." This makes me a tad less angry to purchase because included in the set is Richard Donner's original cut of Superman II! We'll get to see exactly how that green crystal gave Superman back his powers instead of just going, sure, okay, have you ever noticed how blue Christopher Reeve's eyes are?! Plus it has more Marlon Brando as Jor-El and that automatically makes this version better. "Stella!!!!!" Ooop, I mean, "Kal-el!!!!" Also I never bought III and IV in the first place, so I'll at least be able to proudly display those gems in my film collection. *Cough Cough being sarcastic Cough Cough*

Go here if you want to a detailed play by play of how Donner's version is different from the theatrical release we all know and love.

And yes, I was much more likely to be friends with boys than date them when I was younger. Shut up.

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Lazy Bones

I didn't end up going to half of the things I had planned this week... Work was just too overloaded; I was too tired and a huge emotional mess. My grandpa had two heart attacks this week. He's fine for now, but it really blows. I had a pretty good rest of the weekend, though, considering. Played Nintendo and ate some pizza with a good friend Saturday...confirmed that I really suck at video games. My mom wouldn't let me play when I was a kid, so I never got much practice. She said I was "too anxious" a child to play. That I would take it too seriously and become emotionally dependent on winning. Instead, I'm still an anxious person, I suck at a skill all my peers mastered, and I get embarrassed when playing. So good job, Mom, you were totally right on! I actually told her all of this recently (she reads my blog so I have to be fair to her) and she still stands by her decision. And other than this one little thing, I turned out basically alright, no?!

Other than gaming I just loafed about. Spent most of today reading several of the magazines/journals I'm getting now. Ever since I finished grad school, I've been in a reading craze and just ordered stuff en masse: Bust, Bitch, Mother Jones, Vogue, Vanity Fair, Magnet, Museum News, Curator, Journal of Popular Culture, American Quarterly, etc. etc. etc. Good thing growing up I got lots of practice at reading while all the other kids were playing Mario Bros. Love you Mom!!!

The one event I did make it to is the only one that sucked. I went to a bar on Friday in Dupont with some old friends (all over the age of 30, several with kids or kiddies on the way) and I couldn't drink. The boy had my driver's license (he was making a copy of it for our car insurance claim) and the ABC people were on the block. I'm obviously not under 21 anymore people! I mean, it's not like I need to drink to have fun with my girls (like everyone says), but who am I kidding. I really wanted a drink. It was nice to see my girls' claws come out for me; they were determined to get me to drink. When ordering one for themselves and passing it on to me was called out for what it was, Barbara began harassing our waiter and loudly too. Every time he asked us how we were doing, she would yell at him about how he had ruined our whole night and keep yelling as he walked away. I thought he might flip out. Gotta love that lady. She's a spitfire. I ended up staying pretty late and even though one of my mates snuck me some bourbon for my diet Coke, I was blacklisted for the whole night. Even regulars, people that have gone to this bar every night for the last 10 years, couldn't get drinks if they were seen with me beforehand... seriously. Apparently, fascism is alive and well in many parts of DC and not just near Lafayette Square. I know, I know, law law law...and total misuse of the word fascism, but all I wanted was a G&T people! Sigh.


During this little melee, however, the thought did cross my mind that perhaps this is a sign from above to do a little less imbibing in the future. Truth be told, I've actually decided to cut back on the booze and other unhealthy life habits (read: chips, oven pizzas, take out). The past year has been so chaotic and I'm finally settled into my new job, house, pay scale... All the good habits I gained over the years (cooking, running, taking my vitamins) went down the drain during graduate school. It was eating whatever I could find, wherever I could find it, when I could find the time. Followed by a lot of diet Coke. Or beer. I haven't gained much weight, but I just don't feel as alert and healthy as I used to. I know that a lot of people have the philosophy that we only get one life, so live it up. I tend to be more of the thought that I only have one life and I'd rather not feel like crap during it. I don't want to get cancer at a young age, or have diabetes, or liver failure, or be a whale of an old lady. I'm 25 and I've already lost several good friends. I know that anything can happen. I don't want to fuck this body up because of something so ephemeral as booze or Doritoes.

Now, don't take this the wrong way. It's not like I'm becoming some sort of crunchy, granola health freak... or a straight edge. I got shivers just writing that... I just want to be more conscious of what I'm putting in my body, like I did before this city and graduate school took over all my energy. I'm still going to go out, probably more than now since I'll be less run down. I'm still going to get a beer when I do and I'm still going to eat popcorn when I go to the movies. I'll just make sure I don't drink every night I go out and I'll order a smaller size of kernels. But still with butter, of course. Moderation, people, that's all I'm saying. And now that I know where I'm living for a while and who's writing my paychecks, I can finally settle down and get back to making my life instead of reacting to it.

Now if only I'd been in a moderation state of mind before I ordered all those journals and magazines... and when writing run-on sentences. Oy.

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I can't help but love that man of mine...

I just spent $50 buying something I already have. And no, it's not some clothing item that I love love loooooooove so I'm getting it in all the rainbow shades available to my mass consumer hands. It's actually DVDs. Why, you ask, would a sane person buy duplicates of movies? One for the condo and one for the private jet perhaps? No, we all know that's not why. So what could it be?

The answer?

George Lucas is a twat. You heard me. A twat. After swearing, SWEARING, that he would never ever in a billion years a long time ago in a galaxy far far away release the theatrical versions of the Star Wars trilogy*, I bought the "enhanced version" set of the films. My logic was that these were better than ruining my original VHS versions. If I just needed a Star Wars fix, these DVDs would do.

And now? Now, Mr. "I have so much money stuffed in my neck I can make any movie I want exactly how it is in my head" has decided to make MORE money off us sad Star Wars junkies and release the original versions. The kicker? Disc 1 is the "enhanced version" of the films... THE ONES I ALREADY BOUGHT LAST YEAR!!!!!* Now I have two copies of the fucked-up Star Wars movies, all so I could get the wonderful, perfect movies* I wanted in the first place. Lucky me.

So thank you, George. I hope you're happy with all of my money. Oh yeah, and a bit of sage advice I've learned along the way:

Just because you can do it doesn't mean you should.

*Note I don't say "original trilogy." I'm sure you can surmise the reason behind that without a footnote. I just felt like doing one since I haven't written an academic paper in a while. I like footnotes. They are a geek's crack.
*Okay, I got them for XMAS, so technically I didn't "buy" them the first time... and this time I used a gift card my old coworkers gave me when I went to my new job... so none of my greens this time either... but the point still holds true, dammnit!
*Because it was created at a time when George Lucas couldn't do everything in his head. Apparently limitations are a good thing for old Georgie Peorgie.

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Wizard People, Dear Reader

I recently added a statcounter to my blog to see if I had any readers. Well, I do, including some regulars. Hello Indianapolis! Hello Kansas City! Hello Boston! Hello D.C.! Hello St. Louis!

But, my other loyal readers, who are you? I know your general locations, but not your names or who you are. I know, slight skeevy... I feel almost like I'm borderline stalking you even though you know all about my life and I have no idea who you are. Are we friends? Did we meet at a party? Have we ever made out? Did you randomly come across my blog and were just plain ole' smitten with my sardonic wit?

Go on, dear readers, leave some comments! Let me know I'm not standing up here on open mic night, staring out into the bright stage lights, hearing nothing but crickets. But, if you'd rather remain an anonymous unrequited lover (or secret hater), I promise I'll understand.

Kisses and Hugs.

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Lazy Hazy End of Summer Days

I'm not leaving my house at all this weekend. I'm not drinking any booze. I'm not using an alarm when I get up. I'm going to screen most of my calls... I am going to vegetate and detox and watch LOTS of television. Okay, I need to clean the kitchen and do laundry, but I don't have to shower for that. But I am going to get gobs of needed sleep, rest my brain, and prepare for my whirlwind week.

Itinerary:

Work:

Find English speaker in Spanish-speaking country to locate important Central American peace treaty.

Write 5 billion emails (like always) to beg beg beg people to a) respond to our pleas for help b) actually tell us what neat shit they have for an exhibit.

Enter about 1000 items into database...so not happening.

Meet with consultants (again) for new custom database.

Meetings, meetings, meetings!

Exhibition deadline, exhibition deadline, exhibition deadline!

Figure out where that damn brass fixture I found goes in the exhibition...it looks vaguely familiar...

And that's just what I have planned... no accounting for the constant "Elizabeth... do you know if we have or can you or what is (fill in blank)?"s I get.

And I'm sure I have post-its all over my desk with other things I have to do that I've totally not logged in my brain yet. It's true, I'm very important.

Personal Life:

MU Alumni event at the Capitol... might be fun. Might be lots of older people. 50/50 chance it'll be fun. Well, 70/30 if there's good food and cocktails...

Kickball!!! At a new field in Dupont area, with lights. Which my team doesn't even need because we got the kick-ass neon fugly green shirts! We glowed in the dark last week, people. I'm so not kidding.

Grocery shopping is on this list somewhere...

Happy Hour at Fox and Hound with my ladies-who-drink from WWH. One lovely lady is back in town so gaiety all around. And lots of gin and tonics.

Kickball party. Pre-gaming with Nintendo at the ol' Rowhouse. Minus: the bar is one frequented by GW undergrads and men who wear their polo collars flipped up
Plus: $10 open bar. So in DC, that adds up to about 2 beers at normal price. Sounds like a pretty good deal to me. Plus, I think the Adams-Morgan kickball crowd is essentially taking over the party spot. So hopefully the popped collars will all be worn ironically. One can only dream...

Housewarming party in Arlington. A good friend just finished rennovating her Bungalow. Probably get to see lots of people haven't seen in a while and enjoy the lower relative humidity levels of the Summer/Fall cusp.

Oh yeah, and finding time to write snarky blogs... That has to fit in somewhere.

I'm sure to a lot of you this isn't a super busy week... you probably go out every night after work, which of course, was filled with only a 15 minute break to smoke a cigarette, eat a cracker, and pee. But even though work is always busy for me, my weeknights are usually spent at home cooking and reading... I have kickball once a week and maybe go to a movie, get dinner with someone downtown, or to a show. Maybe. But this week I have something marked in my calendar for every night.

I guess it keeps me young, always being on my toes. And also slightly dizzy.

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Like I said...

People will do anything regarding 9/11 if it makes them money...




From the makers:

This historic 2-piece memorial transforms into a magnificent standing sculpture of the Twin Towers, and is clad in 24 KT gold and .999 Pure Silver recovered from Ground Zero!

This groundbreaking non-monetary issue will never be released for circulation. Now, it is available through this special private minting for collectors only!

This truly unique commemorative is created using two distinct struck pieces. First, a traditional round planchet is struck with frosted relief on a mirror-like background. Then, a magnificently engraved skyline featuring the Twin Towers is struck separately and fitted into the background. This World Trade Center skyline can be removed and inserted into a slot on the face of the commemorative. The effect is dazzling -- it is literally transformed into a standing sculpture of the Twin Towers! The World Trade Center skyline is lavishly clad in gleaming silver that was miraculously recovered from a bank vault found under tons of debris at Ground Zero. Now, to mark the fifth anniversary, the same silver that was reclaimed from the destruction has been used to cover the magnificent Twin Towers depicted in the 2001-2006 World Trade Center Commemorative. The stunning design of this magnificent September 11th memorial is a 15 mg. of 24 KT gold and 15 mg. of .999 pure silver clad tribute to all who were lost on that fateful day. $5 of every commemorative order is donated to official 9/11 family charities and memorials.

Oh, well that makes me feel better... a whole, huge, whopping $5 of your $29.95 (plus S&H) will go to help the families and charities of 9/11.

Sigh.

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Wash, Rinse, Repeat

Proof positive that my paranoia about blogging at work is not unfounded.

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Why I get my news from Mother Jones

Pull up a chair, grab some popcorn, turn on your computer and... watch one of the most horrific days in American history ALL OVER AGAIN!

That's right, CNN is showing the original coverage of the 9/11 attacks all day Monday to commemorate the 5th Anniversary. Cause the first time wasn't enough!? Seriously, is this CNN's idea of a tribute? It's journalism at its worst--tapping into the voyeurism of Americans...most who weren't even directly affected by the attacks. Well, except their loss of civil liberties, but they don't seem to care about that. Although I didn't move to DC until two years after the attacks, every day I'm cognizant that I'm in one of the most targeted cities in the world and not just by Al-Queda. There are lots of radicals that hate the American government... Even with this admittedly tenuous connection, I still recognize this brazen attempt to cash in on the basest of American sentiments-emotional glee when watching "sensational" events. People love to watch awful things, cry, and then pat themselves on the back for recognizing the poignancy of the event.

Perhaps this is really unfair and cynical, but it's honestly my first reaction. I'm sure there are better ways a multi-billion dollar news network could honor those lost on 9/11. Like, say, an investigation into why the war in Afghanistan is now the war in Iraq? Why our ports, borders, and airports aren't necessarily safer than they were 5 years ago? Why the hell we have Saddam Hussein in custody but not Osama bin Laden? Why has "9/11" turned into justification for the erosion of basic Constitutional rights? I personally believe answering these questions would be a more fitting commemoration than watching those towers collapse all over again.

Besides, as a friend pointed out, it would be a completely different thing if it were Fox News. I mean, what more can you expect from them?

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The Duggars Have Captured Your Hearts...

Since I've noticed some resurgeance in both Duggar news (via Discovery Channel) and views of my vintage Duggar post, I have decided to repost the blog below so those not yet acquainted with this lovely family of God can too bask in the glory that is the Duggars.

Enjoy.

Oops... the Duggars Did Again

and Again and Again and Again...

For those of you who aren't blessed enough to know of the Duggars, they are a Northwest Arkansas family (where I grew up) who have 16 children. Yep, that's right. As of 6:30am this morning, the Duggar brood numbers 16. And what's most interesting/scary/mind-boggling/weird/pickwhateverwordyouwant is that every child's name begins with the letter J. I'm not kidding. There's Joshua, 17; John David, 15; Janna, 15; Jill, 14; Jessa, 12; Jinger, 11; Joseph, 10; Josiah, 9; Joy-Anna, 8; Jeremiah, 6; Jedidiah, 6; Jason, 5; James, 4; Justin, 2; Jackson Levi, 1; and now Johannah. And their dad's name? You guessed it, Jim Bob. Poor mom, her name is Michelle. She's so left out. Other than the fact that she's birthing a baby every 9 months. And according to Jim Bob, they are ready to start for another, if God blesses them again. I quote: "We both just love children. I have asked Michelle if she wants more, and she said yes, if the Lord wants to give us some she will accept them."

I first became aware of the Duggars when Jim Bob ran for US Senate in 2002. He had previously been elected as a state representative by the good people of NW Arkansas and dreamt of bigger and better things. So, he sent a card to EVERYONE in the mail, knowing in his heart that the people of Arkansas would embrace him.



Now many of you are thinking, well of course Arkansas would LOVE this guy! I mean, look at his nice, Christian family... Look at how they are combating the falling white birth rate singlehandely! Look at their matching outfits--they must be a great jug band! Arkansans love jug bands like they love fried chicken, right? Sadly, too many of you have an incorrect idea of Arkansas and it's constintuents. Yes, the majority of Arkansans (I'm not speaking for myself, of course, being a socialist and all) love white, Christian men with strong values who tend toward the conservative side. Or are Bill Clinton. But there is such a thing as going too far for us and the Duggars do that... in more than one way. Wink wink, hint hint, say no more.

Don't believe me, the Arkansan expatriate living in D.C.? Well, here's the viewpoint from an Arkansas blog:

Oh lordy, I tried my best to pass up this blog....just let it go.....leave it be. But it's just simply too delicious. First all, my 2 kids just love the Duggar's, or at least the concept of a Duggar. They regularly scan the news, looking for something new, usually of the flesh variety, at the Duggar Barracks.

They use the name to describe many as in, the dog has fleas as thick as Duggar's. Or we have enough cookies to feed the Duggar's. The term Duggar used to mean 15, which came off as , how much money will it cost, hon? Duggar's daddy, so I'd know to spool out 15 bucks. Now I'll have to keep a bunch of 1's around in order to hand out 16 bucks.

Also if my wife and I disappear upstairs one of the kids will holler Duggar at us when we come back down. Man, I wish! And it made getting our oldest girl on birth control pills last month easier by reasoning that it would be best for our family if she didn't goof up and Duggar by accident. We tell her she'll have lots of time to Duggar in the future. Duggaring is natural, Duggaring is good, not everybody does it, but everybody should.

And we remind her that to be a good parent means at least 20 years of care and worry 24/7 for each Duggar. Let's see, 16 times 20 = 320 years. ...Hope Michelle takes her vitamins, she's got to live a long long time. And honestly, what's one more kid after you have 15? I say give the ole girl a few days to rest up and then let's get those legs back up in the air. My new motto is Make Duggar's, Not War!

So, what's the moral of this story? That Arkansans are just like the rest of the country thinks we are--dumb, ignorant, racist, Christian freaks with Pentecostal hair and matching doilie dresses? Yes, but at least we, including our most famous native son Bill Clinton, Duggar a lot!

For those of you who are interested in learning more about the Duggar way of life, here is a link to the family's website. They will even answer your yearning questions! Or you can just watch them on the Discovery Channel or the Learning Channel. Yes, they have shows about their life.

God, no wonder people make fun of Arkansas.

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Urban Myths

My long weekend was DEFINITELY not long enough. That's probably my own fault. I give, it is my own fault... During a MarioKart tournament on Saturday I had one drink (okay, okay, two) too many. Why didn't anyone warn me? Okay, you're right, why didn't anyone tell me to listen to the warnings?! Anyhow, I spent most of Sunday feeling sorry for myself (and, not to mention, old) and watching Quantum Leap (old again).
Monday was really great: my boss had a bunch of people over for brunch and then the boy and I went to get some beer with a coworker and her partner. And in doing so overturned a third urban myth of the District...enough for a bona-fide list!

Urban Myths of DC Uncovered!

1) DC apartment buildings (in Dupont, no less) do go co-op! I know someone! Not someone who knows someone who knows someone who this happened to in the 80s, but someone right now!
2) A permanent parking space. Not in a massive "urban" condo building garage. But in the rowhouse neighborhoods of NW. And off-street. The kicker? It's mine! Too bad I have no car...

Finally, the new addition...

3) A bar with no television. No constant playing of sports for the college wanks, no CNN (or Fox News) for the "I'm so important I have to constantly know what's going on" Hill-types who if they were that important would be on the Hill not at a bar... or have their drinks served to them in their schwanky Foxhall Tudor-style mansions. Just the chat of the patrons, the attentive-enough but not overly in-my-business bartender, the above-par bar food and the piped music create the mood. I think that Mr. Henry's on Pennsylvania in Capitol Hill might have to be my new local, even if it is in a different quadrant. The Columbia Heights local (Wonderland) requires too much attention to detail (read: Hipster and Suburban-hipster-wannabe clientele) to be truly enjoyable for both me, the sometimes-to-her-dismay-mistaken-for-a-hipster drinker, and my partner, the teetolar.

Of course, Wonderland is only three blocks away. And I hear weeknights are much less pretentious. Maybe I'll head over for just a bit... One beer of course. I swear I learned my lesson!

Aw, who am I kidding?! I'm not leaving the comfort of my house. And I'm most certainly not going to drink only ONE beer!

Cheers, ya'll.

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Jennipher and Ryan sitting in a tree
K-I-S-S-I-N-G
First comes love
Then comes marriage
Then comes Ryan pushing...a pooper-scooper behind their lab Bear

Congrats Jenn and Ryan!!!!!

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Snarky McSnarkison

As soon as I checked my email this morning, I noticed someone had left a comment on my recent post, Pigfaced Little Twit.

It reads below:

Anonymous said:

Between your profile and your ranting, I'd suggest to your husband to run for the hills now...

Normally posts don't annoy me, but lately my friends and I have been discussing the idea of anonymous comment-leavers. So, here is another open letter:

To Whom it May Concern,

Who is this "anonymous" who keeps leaving snarky comments on people's blogs? Are you a yellow-bellied chicken who can't even own up to your beliefs? Are you Joe Klein? (Get it? Because he wrote Primary Colors as "Anonymous"? Oh, nevermind...) Are you someone I used to be friends with who is attempting a lovely passive-aggressive subterfuge? Did a bunch of people name their kids Anonymous and I'm just totally unaware of the trend? You know, like how people are naming their kids after cars? Like Audi, Jeep, and Infiniti?

Come out and own your comments, Anonymous! Trust me, it feels good to own what you say, even when people don't agree with it. You'll even sleep better at night.

Love,
Elizabeth

P.S. Is it my love of Jim Henson movies noted on my profile that gave me away as a crazy man-eater? Because if the Muppets taught me anything, it's to be an angry, hard, cold, and humorless person.

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Kittens with Boxing Gloves

First, I realized people had put my blog on the dcblogs.com index. Then I realized it was the 27th most popular link for that week! Now (it's too much, I know) they have featured one of my entries on their page for Thursday!

The name of the blog is called Kittens with Mittens, but a more appropriate name might be Kittens with Boxing Gloves. This blogger pummels a writer who suggests that it isn’t a good idea to marry a career woman. It starts: Everytime I begin to think that things are changing, that people are growing, that our society is more open, that sexism is slowly crawling towards death, I am slapped in the face with the harsh reality that our country, people, and many men suck.

Okay, to be totally honest, I might have emailed it to them because I was really happy with the posting (as per their suggestions). But no one held a gun to their head and forced them to feature it amongst the hundreds of postings in DC!

Or did I?

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Oh the fickle hand of fate...

I'm watching a Lifetime Television movie right now. At the time it was produced, Jenna von Oy and Mark-Paul Gosselar were probably the headlining actors. Two relative unknowns, Sarah Chalke (Scrubs) and Hillary Swank (two-time Oscar winner) also star in the film. Oh, how fickle Americans can be. One day we can't get enough of teenage comedy stars and the next we reject them for oh-so-serious drama turns and Zach Braff vehicles. I have decided to write an open letter in order to address this great tragedy:

Dear Jenna von Oy,

I know that you are still getting paid to act (well, unless when UPN and WB formed the sure-to-be 16-35 demographic boo-HE-moth CW, your show got cancelled), so this is not meant to say you aren't doing want you want to do for a living. You are a paid actor. That rocks, Six. Seriously.

Rather, I am writing to apologize for how quickly America's passionate love affair with you ended. You spent the formative years of your childhood playing the spunky sidekick to Nosem, I mean, Mayim Bialik in Blossom. You were the jewel of many a made-for-tv movie, including one where you had to wear only your underwear on camera, have sorority girls draw marker circles around your lady humps, and then were pushed off of a very tall building by the above psychotic byatches.

All I'm asking, Jenna, is try not to take your short lapse with fame to heart. Rest easy knowing that all of your work led up to that pinnacle death scene, so that Hillary Swank, who played your best friend, could cry for your death. This acting experience widened her range and allowed her to play both a former-boxer-suicidal-paraplegic and a tragic-murdered-Midwestern-transgender. Jenna, those Oscars are for you.

Sincerely,
A recovering Blossom fan

P.S. I'm also certain that you and Sarah Chalke totally traded comedic timing hints around the craft table and that's why she's so funny on Scrubs. Because she wasn't funny on Roseanne. Prettier than that other girl, but not so ha-ha.
P.S.S. I so love how you rocked hats and big flowers decades before that fashion poseur Sarah Jessica Parker.

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And the day ends on a high note...

Hurumph

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Pigfaced Little Twit...

Everytime I begin to think that things are changing, that people are growing, that our society is more open, that sexism is slowly crawling towards death, I am slapped in the face with the harsh reality that our country, people, and many men SUCK. First it was the election of Bush and now some "journalist" working for Forbes has written an editorial empirically claiming "Don't Marry Career Women."

I'm not even going to fully debate this Neanderthal because 1) I don't have time to argue against every single sentence of a 10 paragraph diatribe 2) you all know how I feel 3) even most people will see the blatant idiocy if this guy's arguments. Instead, I'll just pick out a couple of the gems, along with some pointed observations:

Quote 1:
Why? Because if many social scientists are to be believed, you run a higher risk of having a rocky marriage. While everyone knows that marriage can be stressful, recent studies have found professional women are more likely to get divorced, more likely to cheat and less likely to have children. And, if they do have kids, they are more likely to be unhappy about it. A recent study in Social Forces, a research journal, found that women--even those with a "feminist" outlook--are happier when their husband is the primary breadwinner.

What?! What?! I especially love how "less likely to have children" is thrown in there with other life negative moments, like cheating and divorce. You know, the fact that my womb hasn't produce any children is EXACTLY the same thing as me choosing to betray the trust of my partner or for the family I created with my partner to completely disintegrate before my eyes, often with financial, emotional, and physiological consequence. In fact, in the dictionary it says "not having children" is a synonym to "divorce."

My other favorite part in this paragraph is the quotations around the word "feminist." I'm confused? Did he do this because feminism is a "concept"? Or are some women only saying they are feminist? I'm not sure the point. I mean, certainly he's not trying to imply through punctuation that feminism is some sort of abstract idea that is so outside of the cultural norm that said normal people laugh when they use to term and ALWAYS use air quotes. For example:

Claire: who's that girl over there Bobby? The childless one?
Bobby: Oh, I used to date her but she came out with the truth that she was a career girl. I knew that meant we could never get married, so I ended it.
Claire: Oh, so you mean she's a (moves both sets of index and second fingers together in air in an up and down movement) "feminist".
Bobby: That's a good one. (echoing Claire's movements) A "feminist"! hahahahahahahahahaahahahahaha

Quote 2:
Why? Well, despite the fact that the link between work, women and divorce rates is complex and controversial, much of the reasoning is based on a lot of economic theory and a bit of common sense. In classic economics, a marriage is, at least in part, an exercise in labor specialization. Traditionally, men have tended to do "market" or paid work outside the home, and women have tended to do "nonmarket" or household work, including raising children. All of the work must get done by somebody, and this pairing, regardless of who is in the home and who is outside the home, accomplishes that goal. Nobel laureate Gary S. Becker argued that when the labor specialization in a marriage decreases--if, for example, both spouses have careers--the overall value of the marriage is lower for both partners because less of the total needed work is getting done, making life harder for both partners and divorce more likely. And, indeed, empirical studies have concluded just that.

I think that "classic economics" is the key point here. Perhaps if we as a society provided for children regardless of the marital/working/income status of the parents, women wouldn't be so torn between their career choice and their forced status as caregiver. Perhaps if we as a culture valued the "traditional" work of women more, shock, even paying them for it, they might be more satisfied as caregivers. Or maybe, I know this is radical, men could stay home and the women could have careers! Why is it just accepted that the balance is out of order because women go to work? Yes, it is hard when both people have careers. Yes, maybe there is a logic to the division of labor. But why is that men get to keep their careers and women end up with divorce and children they were told they are supposed to have? Men have been the "breadwinners" since the dawn of basic trade. It's our fucking turn! Here's your apron. Over there's the dishes. Don't forget to wear a smile! See, "classic economic" balance restored! Wasn't that easy?

Quote 3:
In 2004, John H. Johnson examined data from the Survey of Income and Program Participation and concluded that gender has a significant influence on the relationship between work hours and increases in the probability of divorce. Women's work hours consistently increase divorce, whereas increases in men's work hours often have no statistical effect. "I also find that the incidence in divorce is far higher in couples where both spouses are working than in couples where only one spouse is employed," Johnson says.

I love how if it's "statistical" people assume that means its some sort of absolute truth. There are so many other factors involved in a situation than revealed in studies like this. Does statistics take into account the fact that an increase in women's work hours consistently increases divorce because women are also expected to take care of the home. When women work more, men, who are accustomed to a power relationship where they are taken care of, cry like little babies. But, because women have for centuries been conditioned to accept the longer work hours of men (and since less men handle the cooking, cleaning, etc.) there is little changed in the relationship. Yes, the woman gets less attention, but she still has the same amount of work as before. Not so when wifey isn't home to wipe husband's lazy bum. Oh yeah and one final thing--when only one spouse is working, let's say the man, the wife becomes financially dependent upon her husband. This means that she is less likely to divorce her husband because of the inability to support herself or her children. See, statistic explained.

Quote 4:
The other reason a career can hurt a marriage will be obvious to anyone who has seen his or her mate run off with a co-worker: When your spouse works outside the home, chances increase that he or she will meet someone more likeable than you. "The work environment provides a host of potential partners," researcher Adrian J. Blow reported in The Journal of Marital and Family Therapy, "and individuals frequently find themselves spending a great deal of time with these individuals."

There's more: According to a wide-ranging review of the published literature, highly educated people are more likely to have had extramarital sex (those with graduate degrees are 1.75 times more likely to have cheated than those with high school diplomas.) Additionally, individuals who earn more than $30,000 a year are more likely to cheat.

Oh yippee!!! I was wrong--there is equality now! Women can run off with their younger, skinnier secretaries just like men have been for... well, ever. Oh and they can also get the same higher education once refused them, where amongst other things, they learn the sexual mores their male counterparts have been privy to all along.
See, things aren't that bad, girls. Who knew we had it so good?

Quote 5:
And if the cheating leads to divorce, you're really in trouble. Divorce has been positively correlated with higher rates of alcoholism, clinical depression and suicide. Other studies have associated divorce with increased rates of cancer, stroke, and sexually transmitted disease. Plus, divorce is financially devastating. According to one recent study on "Marriage and Divorce's Impact on Wealth," published in The Journal of Sociology, divorced people see their overall net worth drop an average of 77%.

The moral of this story? If you marry a girl like me, you'll end up a poor, drunk, suicidal vagrant with herpes. Husband, you'd better watch out.

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Minute Mystery

It's 7:30pm on Sunday night. I have no idea where my weekend went. Seriously. I feel like I did a lot...and when I list it all up--helped friend move, went to BBQ, dyed hair, talked to friend who had been traveling world for two months, talked to parents, talked to Grandpa, talked with another friend, cleaned kitchen, cleaned bathroom, put laundry away, updated planner, worked a little, ordered some academic journals, paid bills, read Star magazine, watched some telly--it sure seems like a lot.

I guess I judge my weekends successful by how LITTLE I do... When I have busy weekends and don't spend enough time lounging on the couch, I feel my weekend was wasted. Weekends are for pajamas, beer, and Netlix, not errands.

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What I listened to today... the Sequel

I've decided to make "what I listened to today" a regular feature. So, without further ado, what I listened to today:

Apple Blossom, De Stijl, The White Stripes
The Man Who Couldn't Cry, American Recordings, Johnny Cash
Everything is Everything, Alphabetical, Phoenix
Julie (Remix), Oh You're So Silent, Jens Lekman
The National Anthem, Kid A, Radiohead
Outlaw Song, Folklore, 16 Horsepower
Signal and Sign, A Certain Trigger, Maximo Park
Three Hopeful Thoughts, The Execution of All Things, Rilo Kiley
Little Bunny Foo Foo, Sara's Mix, Moldy Peaches
Capture the Flag, You Forgot It in the People, Broken Social Scene
I Love Life, We Love Life, Pulp
Aren't All Parades Free?, In Plain Song, Higher Burning Fire

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What I listened to today...

I used to be an album-only person, even with my iPod. I wanted to hear everything in the order it was put together. But... I have so much music now (around 150 gigs... 1100 or so albums) that I've started listening to my iPod on shuffle. This way I can get snippets of what's new and then go from there. Sometimes it makes me feel like I'm not getting the full context of my music, the full experience as it was meant to be. Regardless, it makes the Metro ride shorter...

Anyhow, I thought I'd post what my iPod gave me today on my way to work and back. Some of it I like, some I need to take off old Sparkly. If iTunes has it, I've linked it up... Enjoy.

Cool, Ad Frank is the World's Best Ex-Boyfriend, Ad Frank
The Sidewinder Sleeps, Automatic for the People, R.E.M.
Don't You Know, Lovers, the Sleepy Jackson
Yesterday Never Tomorrows, Logic Will Break Your Heart, The Stills
Comrade's Twenty Sixth, When Your Heartstrings Break, Beulah
I Am a Sunflower, Breathing Tornados, Ben Lee
Untitled Track, In Plain Song, Higher Burning Fire
Back to the Old House, Louder Than Bombs, The Smiths
Can't Make a Sound, Figure 8, Elliot Smith
Anecdote, LP, Ambulance LTD
The Unthinkable is True, Set You Free, Chisel
The New Year, Transatlanticism, Death Cab for Cutie
Surface of the Sun, Retail Sampler, Richard Davies
Hiding All Away, Abattoir Blues, Nice Cave and the Bad Seeds
"Grounded", Wowee Zowee, Pavement
"Through the Swells", How I Learned to Write Backwards, the Aislers Set
"Cross Bones Style", Moon Pix, Cat Power
Films, The Pleasure Principle, Gary Numan
Drying Out, Rigging the Toplights, Pinetop Seven
"Woodgrain", Sad Sappy Sucker, Modest Mouse

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Ubiquitous Techno Remix

First go here.

Then here.

Or vice versa.
Whatever. Just do it. Oh, not safe for work. Seriously. Do three hail marys after listening.


This is courtetsy of my darling Erik. Mwa!

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One of those girls...

Those of my readers who were in grad school with me will probably remember me coining a certain term about the second-year students. The term was quite catty, but seemed appropriate for the class above us who were mostly administration and development museum people. Oh and Randy the hipster butt-crack. A different bag from collections and exhibition people, to say the least. Necessary for museums to stay open (and for me to get a paycheck), but different cats all the same. The term got around so much that I'm almost embaressed to admit this...but I have to get it off my chest.

I, too, have become a pointy-toe shoe. It's true. I have several pairs in my closet and several blisters on my toes to prove it. Sure, sure, I tend to wear my soft-sole white Minnetonkas and my grandpa sweaters more... but the point is that I've crossed a line into a world I can't come back from: fashion trends.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Run away, run away!

All kidding aside (can someone like me really say that with a straight face?!)...when I first moved from Missouri, I had a basic uniform of chunky glasses, short pixie hair, corduroys, cowboy shirts, and chuck taylors. Sometimes I'd mix in a jean skirt, overalls, or flip-flops if the weather was nice. Basically I wore Midwestern chic and nothing else. Even though DC is NOT a fashionable city by any means (seriously, are scrunchies required federal employee uniform wear?), but it was still more, ahem, "urban" than my "down-home" Arkansas-bred comfort clothes. I mean, time for the high school Widespread Panic concerts was over. Black Cat approved bans only for me now. I bought a nice wool coat (vintage, of course) to replace my Grandpa's chicken farm vests. And by Grandpa's, I don't mean style, but provenance. Somehow, someway (okay, it was at H&M) in the last three years I started buying feminine, multi-blend trend clothes. I also took out all of my all-the-way-up-my ear hoops and started wearing dangling earrings. DANGLING EARRINGS! Did you hear me? DANGLING EARRINGS! and POINTY TOE SHOES!!!!

FUCK!

Actually, I like it. Nothin' says D.C. gentrifying transplant like Midwestern chic mixed with pointy-toe shoes.

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PS.

Just to clarify, I'm certainly no Pollyanna. In fact, my bestest monkeyhead has dubbed me "Eliza-bitch" for my sometimes catty remarks about...well... anyone. But what I'm talking about is the complete disregard for someone's feelings. I mean, it's not like I actually ever went up to the nasty snatches at GWU who couldn't dress their body size and said "Nasty snatch, you need to dress your body size. Get a longer skirt." Of course not. Because one is funny among friends and the other is mean. Even if it is the truth.

Yes, I'm talking to you.

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"I'm just being honest!"

I am so tired of that excuse when people are assholes... Like Jeffrey on Project Runway... yes, I know, I'm ranting because of reality television. Whatever. And what's with that paranoia, by the way?!

Anyhow... I know I've written something along these lines before, but it still gets in my craw and won't stop driving me crazy. People who do this are treating honesty like it's some sort of absolute truth. They are giving their opinion, which is a judgmental, rude one. Whatever. Have that opinion. But don't hide behind "honesty" like it's some sort of badge of honor--I'm a stronger person than you, I say asshole things and hurt people's feelings because I'm honest. I exist at a higher level of self-awareness than you do. I have no regard for the fact that I am not the only person or only opinion in this world.

No! Fuck you. You just get pleasure and self-satisfaction out of being a jerk. And the thing that gets to me so much is that many of the people who use "I'm just being honest" or "I'm a bitch, what can I tell you?!" excuses are often liberal, progressive people who consider themselves open-minded, creative, and avant-garde. The one thing I have learned in my oh-so-many years on this earth is that liberal is not the same as open-minded. And that's a very important distinction to make... and no, open-minded about what chemicals you ingest is not what I'm talking about... Yes, I'm talking about you.

When the socially-open, supposedly caring people of my generation spend their time cutting other people down in the name of "honesty", it's no wonder everything's going further into the crapper. I don't expect us all to get along or to live in some naive peace utopia. But some basic human courtesy would certainly help things along. Especially when "liberals" are the people who are supposed to protect the rights of others during Bush's ushering of the New Dark Ages.

What?! I'm just being honest!

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Old Friends...

I just got home from a goodbye happy hour for a good friend moving to Maine this week... I got to see some old and dear friends from my time at NARA and it was really nice. Ate beef for the first time in a long time... The place was "Irish" and had little to no non-beef options, save the requisite "Chesapeake crabcake" on every menu down here. Sigh. We'll see how that goes over tomorrow morning...

Anyhow, I'm just really proud of my friend. She's leaving a good job, good money, and good friends to move in with the person that she loves. She feels all this pressure of modern feminism to choose career happiness (quote unquote artificial ideal of success) and I call bullshit. If family, partners (gay or straight) and love is more important to you than a high profile job, then that's great. The point of women's struggles was to create a world where women could CHOOSE how they shaped their lives. I have no problem with women who want to be stay-at-home moms as long as they are doing that because they WANT to, not because of some male-oriented, Christian ideal. Just as I think choosing to never have children (like myself...probably) is fine and dandy. My friend is one of the smartest women I know and very successful... but her heart is in Maine. And instead of following along with the new social pressures that discriminate against women who want love instead of prestige, she's going for what she wants...

And that's what a feminist looks like, bitches.

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Anybody?

I have the next two weeks to locate contact information for the Princess of Thailand and Nelson Mandela's Minster of Health.

Anybody?

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New Kid on the Block

So the job stress? Still not alleviated. Still love what I do but beginning to feel crunch time. Especially because someone needed something today and I couldn't do it...sure there are reasons, including one admitted by said someone--I don't have FUCKING time to do all the stuff I need to do. I felt really disappointed that I couldn't help this person, even though I have so many piles on my desk I can barely find my post-its reminding me of what I have to do. Yesterday.

This exhibition has been reorganized with me being the only exhibition coordinator in charge of assets. There used to be two. Other employees have also had duties shifted around and everyone is learning a new place. I'm certainly not the only busy person. And I'm not crying out for sympathy... I certainly don't want a pity party. This exhibition is huge--cosmic size huge. So many assets, so many contacts, so many storylines... but it's also wonderful, amazing, exciting, and challenging job. It's high profile. It makes me feel proud of myself. I brag about my job. If this is work, then I'll take it and the piles any day. It ain't pluckin' chickens, that's for sure.

In all honesty, I don't think it's all the work I have that's bothering me...it's more the uneasiness I still have as a new employee...much less one following an excellent predecessor. I have replacement lover syndrome... Am I as good? As pretty? As smart? As lovable? Of course, with a job, you can't actually ask those questions and keep the power relationship. You become a needy little girl. A child instead of an equal...

When do you stop being the new kid?

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and i don't want to know me better...

and i don't want to live forever
when the sky is full of little holes
exploding as they take my picture
let's explode...

why is it that even when i'm happy, these sorts of songs speak to me more than others? morose, self-critical, depressing, shoe-gazing. the sadder the better. the more internal struggle the better. is it because lively lizzy is really lugubrious liz at her core? is it because i've spent much of my life struggling with anxiety and depression... and songs like this make me feel that someone else out there knows exactly what's hiding on the inside of me?

or does the feeling of sadness, self-reflectiveness, or pensiveness give me some sort of high? an artificial sense of artistic and romaniticized sadness? does all sadness and depression have a little bit of this? the edgar allen poe, sylvia plath sexiness of moroseness?

i'm not sure. but damn i love that song.

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One moment...

...can change the course of human history. One person, one thought, one culmination of millions of coincidences can alter the afters unrecognizable from the befores. We just watched this very disturbing movie, C.S.A.: The Confederate States of America, which captures this truth. The film (mockumentary, I guess is more appropro) explores an alternate history of the US if the Dixies had won... it does so through a (fake) British documentary shown on Confederate network television... including commercials selling slave-based American products. Yes, it was funny...but, it was the sort of funny that is borne of uncomfortable, embarrassing realities. Like laughing at a funeral. It was not a Christopher Guest-type mockumentary. It was both a picture of how close we were to having a very different (inhuman, disgusting, abhorrent) future and how close we still are to a past that hasn't disappeared... it just goes unnoticed by most. Scary.

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In case you care and/or notice...

I only post blogs at night... in fact, I only write them at night because I work for the federal government, otherwise known as BIG BROTHER. All my phone calls and keystrokes are recorded somewhere by someone for some odious purpose that will someday restrict my civil rights. Yippee!!! My job is very very very far removed from Bushy-tail (in fact, run counters to many of his beliefs...like, for instance, education is good), but it's still a piece of pulled pork on the giant sandwhich of mass bureaucratictastic bureaucracy bbq... Yum yum.

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Stay Gold, Pony Boy

Jon Stewart just made an "Outsiders" reference... That makes me happy.

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It's not like it's a dog or something...

First off, I need to say that I love my job. It's amazing to not only do work that is creative, challenging, and socially relevant, but also for that job to be your dream job. But, from the very beginning, I've been very busy at work. A lot of people depend on me to do my job and I depend on them to do mine. It's a wonderful collaborative environment, but can also prove to be a vicious cycle of piles, plaintive pleas for help, followed by more piles. Normally, though, I leave my work anxieties at work. My piles don't attach themselves to my brain (okay okay I take some work home on weekends, but just reading). I let it go. Work is work, home is home. But the past couple of days, I have been stressing about work when I get home. I've been thinking about all the stuff I have to do the next day (which, because I work with museum objects, I can't bring home...) and being in a general state of fret. This is not good. It is just a job. A wonderful, exciting, good paying, important job. But a job, nonetheless...

So my solution? I've poured myself a drink, bought some celebrity trash magazines, put on my pajamas and am zoning out. I wasn't going to even turn on my Mac, but it was calling to me like a pitcher of beer on a hot afternoon. Yum.

Okay, now I'm seriously off to zone out. Ciao.

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All You Can Eat

Why do mosquitoes like certain people for chow and not others? Isn't it because some people have thinner skin to bite through? Or higher levels of nutrients? I have no idea... Anyhow, the point is that I was out watering my yard (okay, my 5ft by 5ft square in front of the rowhouse) for maybe 10 minutes and I am COVERED in bites. This happens anytime I go outside, skin covered or not. Seriously, I can be wearing jeans and somehow those damn buggers just munch right on down. Chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp. MMMM, yummy Elizabeth. Tastes like... blood.

In other news, why do people who sign up for kickball for the booze insist on taking it seriously? Against a group of (mostly) girls who not only haven't played team sports since elementary school, but also were last to be picked? Okay, it wasn't really that bad. Everyone was really nice, although it was a slaughter. In fact the ump politely suggested that we get some "base training" from any of us who might of played softball/baseball in the past. Husband, I'm looking at you.

I'm off to bed. Found out today in weekly staff meeting that our team is three weeks behind on a immovable deadline. Those three weeks are partly piled up on my desk, so I need to be ready for battle tomorrow. It probably doesn't help that my position was empty for a year... Funny how just because noone's doing the work, the work doesn't stop needing someone to do it.

Zzzzzzzzzzzz

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Meh.

I honestly think that the reason I'm not writing is that I'm constipated. No, I don't mean physically. Mentally. I have so many back stories here in my head that I don't even know where to start. I usually write most of my blogs in my head as they happen. I come up with trigger words and then at some later point, sit down and write. I use to do all of my papers this way... Anyhow. I have all sorts of new stories about the new place, idiotic eye exams debacles, new music, druken escapades... but I haven't gotten around to writing them and now I'm all clogged up.

So, here's the new deal: I will forget all the things that happened over the last four months. I was never there. You were never there. Blogs never almost came into existence. I'm aborting them. I change my mind. Fuck off, Jerry Falwell.

My writing bowels are now clean and hopefully blogs will starting flowing regularly again.

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Apparently things are good...

I love my job. I love DC. I love my new place (sans fruit flies...grrrrrrrr). And this translates to me not feeling that unending urge to vent, rant, cuss, and write in my blog. Saying that I've been too busy is a lame excuse, because I was just as busy (or busier) when I was in grad school and job hunting, and I wrote then. In high school I spent most of my free time writing free verse poetry and rants. And at the time, I was an huge basketcase with rollercoaster self esteem... Apparently writing is my way of focusing what I perceive to be the insane world around me. When things begin to fall into place, I don't need to create that order or vent those frustrations. As much as I'm happy that my lack of posts reflects some tranquility in the physical world, I want to try and change this pattern and start writing to stretch my brain out. I enjoy writing. I'm certainly not the best, most creative, analytical writer...but I like it. If expressing myself this way benefits me when my life is adrift, I wonder how much it can enhance me other times?

Anyhow... a short update for you loyal readers out there...

My job is fabulous! Every day I am excited to go to work, every day I am surprised that 8 hours have gone by. I'm overworked and underpaid, but it doesn't matter. I love the work. I love the staff. I love the pace. I still feel the need to pinch myself... Even though I've worked really hard, went to a great school, created a good portfolio, I still have a hard time believing the great job that I landed. I mean, I'm 25 years old and I am doing EXACTLY what I want to do. Not "sorta" what I want to do so I can do what I really want to do later, but RIGHT NOW, I'm doing what I hoped I'd be doing three years ago when I started my masters. Okay, now that I've tooted my own horn... I'm sure I impressed all of you out there and proven that I'm AWESOME.

In other news... the Honda was in a bit of an accident. Okay, it was totaled. Because of ducks. It's a long story, I'll post it and some pics later... We have to get a new car now, because even though I'm totally Metro-centric, my husband's job is not Metro accessible. It's a great system, but it's not perfect and it doesn't go everywhere we need to go.

We haven't had much time *cough cough money cough cough* to do anything "fun" lately. We started hanging pictures up in the house. That's very exciting, I know. We also have tickets to see the NSO perform the score to the Wizard of Oz with the movie playing in real time. It's supposed to be an awesome concert. Oh and I finally joined a kickball team. I know, now that EVERYONE's doing it, I finally find a team. I've been wanting to play for years, since I heard it was making a comeback back when I lived in Missouri. Kickball was one my better team sports. That's a relative "better" though... cause I suck at team sports. But still, it's cause for excitement. Play starts in a couple of weeks. I don't know too many people on the team, but I think it'll be a good way to meet some new people. Most of my crew has moved out of the DC area... which is good and bad... it means they have jobs, but that I miss them. It's also turning me into a bit of a hermit. I already have the propensity to hang out at home reading, watching movies, etc. In fact, I tend to go to dinner, shows, and movies by myself when I do get out of the house. I'm thisclose to crazy person living in a cave in the park. But if you find men's shoes in my cave, remember I'm not a weirdo transvestite, but an executive transvestite. If you get that joke, you are allowed to be my new best friend. Unless I hate you.

I honestly have to say the coolest thing lately is finding out that I'm three degrees of separation away from the woman who plays Tanya on Footballer's Wives. Seriously. One of my coworkers is from England, her mom is an acting professor, and Tanya was her student. Three degrees to awesomeness in the form of amazing coke-snorting nails and Satan-straightened hair. Rock on.

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