Are You Fucking Kidding Me?!

The Italian courts just ruled that if you rape a 14-year-old who has had sex before, the crime is less severe than if the girl had been a virgin.

Are you fucking kidding me?!!!

The case involved a step-dad who had forced his stepdaughter to perform oral sex on him. He claimed it was less traumatic since she wasn't a virgin anyhow. This kind of anti-woman thinking is along the same lines that claims you can't rape your wife or prostitutes. A 14-year-old's sexual experiences with peers does not change the horror of having someone that you trust, who is a parent, who is in a position of power, molesting you. When are people going to understand that rape is not about sex, it's about power. Sex is the weapon in which that step-dad controlled an innocent girl. By innocent I don't mean virginal, I mean without any blame in the situation. Virgin or no, slut or no, that individual sexual experience will change that girl forever. It will haunt her and will leave her forever changed, no matter how many times she had sex before or after. Period.

That man should be ashamed of himself. The Italian courts should be ashamed of themselves. We should be ashamed that Italy is hosting the Olympics when the men that rape 14-year-olds get lessened sentences based on a sexist, anti-victim culture.

Fuck, I'm mad.

Read More...

Moving On.

I've basically been out of commission for two weeks with bronchitis, so I'm now overwhelming all you loyal readers (ahem) with three blogs in one day! I know, you are in a tizzy about it, I can tell.

I haven't been able to do much the past couple of weeks, so there isn't much to write about. I've been bedridden and unable to participate as a productive member of society. I haven't been to the gym and my body is definitely feeling it. My first run this week is going to hurt. I have been able to apply for several new jobs and I actually have an interview this Thursday for a position in digital imaging/preservation at the National Archives. It's not exactly what I want to be doing in the long run but the people are great (I assisted them when I worked at NARA before) and the collection is top notch. I mean, it is the National Archives. Sort of goes without saying. Except I just said it.

I've also been applying for exhibits/curator positions all over the urban US. There are several in Manhattan, one in Brooklyn, and another in Kansas City. Although I'm not sure if I'm ready to go back to the Midwest, the position is at an amazing museum that focuses on the suburban experience. Think Tupperware, 1950s All-electric house, and TV dinners. I'm sure the place has great objects and a chance to do some great interpretation of class and gender in the 20th century. That just opened, so we'll see.

It's interesting that I'm applying practically anywhere with a bit of urban personality at this point. I really would prefer to stay here in DC because 1) I love it 2) I have a great crew here 3) We would have two sizeable paychecks for the first time in... well, ever 4) I hate moving. But there hasn't been much open here in the District, but a lot elsewhere. As much as I would rather stay here in the DC area, I want a better job. I want to spend the next 5 years at a place I really love being before I head back to grad school. I don't want to just work for the sake of filling time until I go back to school. Even if my work is at the Smithsonian. Prestige of name does not equal personal satisfaction, regardless of what many of my contemporaries feel about jobs/geography/clothing/etc.

Anyhow, I have about 5 more jobs to apply to tonight and more open every day. We'll see what happens. Perhaps a move is in my future. At least to Dupont Circle.

Read More...

So Fresh and So Clean

I don't tend to be a sentimental person... Okay, that's a lie, I'm a sap. A bitter, begrudging sap, but a sap nonetheless. Anyhow, all I have to say is that D.C. is so beautiful in the snow. All the snow against the white marble makes the whole city seem so quiet and peaceful and clean. It gives me buzzies in my stomach and makes me happy that I'm here.

It even almost makes me forget all of the bullshit coming from both the Congress and the White House. Almost.

Like I said, I'm a bitter sap, not a blind one.

Read More...

With Friends Like These...

If this is how Cheney treats his friends, imagine how he treats his enemies...

Oh wait, that's right, he tortures them, illegally detains them, and just generally violates their civil liberties. I forgot.

Read More...

Hell Freezing Over

I can't believe that roughly half of Americans are cool with illegal wiretapping, yet Pat Buchanan openly hates on Bush on the McLaughlin Group.

The world has flipped on its axis and no one else seems to notice. 'Cept all those D.C. people wearing flip flops in January.

Read More...

Tits on Fire

I recently discovered a BBC television series called Footballers Wives. It's aired on BBC America, but as I don't have cable television (it rots your brain and it's expensive... mainly it's expensive), I Netflixed the first series (seasons for you non-Brit watchers out there). This show is great! Apparently it's becoming quite the underground hit here in the USA. BBC America has already aired the first two series and is airing Series 3 soon. Or so I've heard from friends that have given their souls to the cable gods and from the BBC America website. While recently I've been preferring Britcoms like Last of the Summer Wine and Keeping Up Appearances, I decided to give this a try.

At first show, my husband and I were enthralled. However, this wasn't because of superb acting or social commentary on the lives of rich wives. In fact, it was like every other soaper (think Eastenders)... except that there was always one moment in the show where you go, whaaaaaaaa?

We have thus dubbed that type of moment "Tits on Fire." The inspiration for this term actually comes from a scene in one of the first episodes where one of the characters is being harassed by obnoxious, mysogynistic gits and somehow her breasts catch on fire. It's horrifying and I shouldn't make light or bastardize the event with a off-hand term... but I am. Well, not really. It's meant to apply to horrifying situations where the audience is horrified. Or shocked. Okay, I'm an uncouth person. I already know that. No need to leave comments stating as much.

Moving on.

We are actually now using this term whenever such a moment occurs in any series or movie, when one is left with his or her mouth gaping open. We even uttered "tits on fire" during an episode of Battlestar Galactica where a group of pilots get fried out of nowhere. Yes, I also watch Battlestar Galactica. I'm a bad person and I'm a geek.

Moving on. Again.

So next time you see something absolutely insane in a show (and please don't tell me that Desperate Housewives fits that bill...), feel free to steal my new term "tits on fire."

I promise not to call you a hater if I catch you.

Read More...

My Immune System Thinks It's Funny

I think my immune system knows that I don't have regular health insurance right now.

Why do I think this? Because I've been sick three times since the New Year. Why? I've been getting enough sleep, eating well, exercising when I can... And yet, still sick. It's so disrupting.

And not funny. You hear me immune system? Not funny.

Read More...

Betty and Rob and Woofwa

So me and my posse went out this weekend for a little round-up, shoot-out. Okay, not really. It was for boozing and dancing. But we were still a dangerous bunch. Okay, also not true. We're all pretty benign. Okay, very benign. Like little kittens. In fact, we didn't even go out... God, can't I James Frey a little bit?

Anyhow, we really did go out and it was a night of many weird-Os. First, at Heaven and Hell, there was the line-dancing, air-swimming girl who Antoine, Kelly and I decided is named Betty, works as a nanny, is from rural Montana (or Vermont... we were undecided) and drives a 90s model black Toyota Corolla that is rusting out. She rocked her body and boggled our minds. Who knew you could non-ironically line-dance to hip-hop?

After we left Heaven and Hell, we discovered our friend Corey had tried to get in but had been turned away because he was wearing a black hoodie and Heaven and Hell has a strict "no sweatshirt" policy... Don't they realize that sweatshirts are the indie boy uniform? It's not Corey's fault... it's just what he owns. It's in a rule book or something. So, Heaven and Hell was lame, but had strong gin and tonics. And Betty. Oh, Betty... I miss you already.

We finally ended up at the Blue Room, after Antoine and my molecules were squished together trying to get a drink at Angry Inch. We decided we wanted to remain separate entities, so we left. Blue Room didn't really have the music we were looking for, though, but it turned out to be fun. It had sort of a mix of hip-hop and house, which I don't tend to like, but it had a nice atmosphere. And a bar.

The most memorable part of the night actually happened while I was waiting for the restroom, which was near the bar. While waiting, I had an awful encounter with a man I have since named, Weird-O From West Africa(W-OFWA). Woofwa, if you will...

Woofwa: Hi
Me: Hi
Woofwa: You have to go to the bathroom?
Me: Yep.
Woofwa: Do you have to go bad? I'll help you.
Me (shifting uncomfortably): Um, I'm fine.
Woofwa (leaning forward and cupping his hands): If you have to go, I'll let you pee in my hands.
Me: Um... no thanks.
Woofwa: I'm just kidding, of course. Hahaha...
Me (turning to the girl next to me): Please pretend to be my friend. That man just asked me to pee in his hands...
Girl: Oh dear...
Me: Yeah, I know.

I'm not kidding. This happened. I'm still disturbed. It would have been less weird (but still inappropriate) for him to grab my boob or butt or something. But peeing in his hands? What?! Who says that? Woofwa, that's who.

On a brighter note, Betty actually ended up at the Blue Room too, although she had stopped air swimming. We had to find a new person to ponder and find did we ever. Next to us on the dancefloor was a short, chubby man with a red beard and glasses, bobbing his head and sort of wiggling his elbows. Antoine, Kelly and I decided that his name was Rob and that he watches anime. We were also convinced that he collects comic books and stores them in protective Mylar. Spurred on by gin and my belief in my deductive powers, I went up to Rob. I pretended to hit on him with the "what's your name, don't I know you?" line. His name is actually Rich... and he felt a strong need to tell me that we didn't know each other because he's from Boston.

Which I believe proves that he, in fact, keeps his comic books in Mylar.

Read More...

Keep Abortion Legal

I was writing a totally different post about boozing this weekend, but got interrupted by my friends Allison and Jeff who were heading out to look at the March for Life out on the Mall today.

I'm so mad now I can't finish my happy-go-lucky comedic rendering of Saturday night... We ended up walking all the way to the Supreme Court, holding makeshift signs, and protesting the Pro-Lifers with the 5 other Pro-Choice people who showed up on the steps of the Supreme Court. And you'd think that people who are supposedly so filled with love they can't bear for any baby ever conceived to die would be, I don't know, filled with love? Nope. Total jerks. We angry feminists were a thousand times nicer than these people.

God's love, my ass.

First, the median age of these protesters was about 14. These are kids who haven't even begun to learn how to think for themselves, much less ever known what it's like to have a job, yet not have enough money for food, much less for a baby. These are children... Stupid kids who want off from school so they can come socialize with other tweens and scream at people they've never even taken the time to really talk to...

Second, even though abortion affects women, the majority of these marchers were male. I'm not saying that father's don't have rights, but how in the hell can a 14-year-old boy know anything about being pregnant?! And what gives him the right to tell me that it's not my body?! I'm not kidding you, this was a so-called "conversation" I had while surrounded by angry anti-Roe activists. I was holding a sign that said "If you don't like abortions, don't have one. Keep your laws off my body" on one side and "More Trees, Less Bush." He apparently didn't like either of these sayings...

Boy: It's not your body!
Me: It's not? Really? Cause it seems to feel like it's my body... Like, when I pinch it, it hurts...
Boy: It's not your body until you have a child and you know what it's like to give life!
Me: How do you know I don't have children? How do you know I'm not a mom?!
Boy: Ummmmmmmm... well it's good if you do... um....

Apparently only childless women are against abortion... Of course, since I am childless and I was just confusing the poor, simple-minded boy, I'm not really disproving his point am I? Oh well... I disproved it in theory.

Finally, these people think that only they have the right to protest on the steps of the Supreme Court. We're not allowed to come to their rallies, even though they showed up en masse to the March for Women two years ago... The anger and belligerence seething from these marchers nearly suffocated the few of us protesting for women's rights. One kid stole my friend Allison's sign and tried to steal mine...while I was holding the Pro-Choice microphone and shouting "Women Will Decide Their Fate, Not the Church, Not the State!" He failed... And I nearly swore in front of major television outlets! Probably not good for our case for me to yell out "Fucking Kid! Give me back my fucking sign!" to a crowd-full of people.

Also, they kept "pretending" to fall into our sound system and turning it off so we couldn't be heard. They were literally and figuratively silencing women's right to choice. I was so angry. I know that all protests are like this... when I was in college I used to help organize the "Take Back the Night" march and you would surprised at how many people react angrily to an anti-rape march. I mean, really? What are you, for rape?! But this was different, as it was a National March on the steps of the Supreme Court of the United States of America, during a time when we are entering into another Dark Age... a time of anti-enlightenment and humanism and civil rights...

I know that last night was the candlelight vigil for Roe V. Wade, but I was disappointed at how few Pro-Choice people there were... Of course, I wasn't even planning on attending. My appearance was spontaneous activism borne of a lunch-time walk outside my office. Of course, when you work on the National Mall, I suppose it's easier to end up at the Supreme Court, holding a microphone and shouting at a thousand pro-life activists. I love D.C.

I'll leave you with one last retarded exchange, which occurred as we were walking back to make our signs... Jeff was smoking:

Idiot Kids: Smoking kills too!
Jeff: What?! Give me a break!
Allison: Shut the Fuck Up!
Idiot Kids: Go Home!!!!!
Me: I am home! I live here!
Idiot Kids: So do we!

Oooo, nice, Idiot Kids. Snap!

Read More...

Grrrrrrrr...

So, I'm not going to be able to take that class after all. It's going to take up too much time from work and if I take it, I can't volunteer at the Wilson. Which, seeing as how that's exhibits work, Wilson is better for me right now... Especially since I'm looking for a new job.

I was really excited. I even wrote out a little outline of edits. I started writing down call numbers of new books. Geek.

The bright side is that I can still edit my article on my own time... 'Cause that's gonna happen. Sigh.

Read More...

This or That

So, I love white wine.

Okay, okay, there's more to me than that... but essentially, I've been drinking vino throughout the night and have stayed up. My husband (tee hee, such a silly Victorian word) just went to sleep... and I'm still up. Of course, that was not without me sniffing his armpits repeatedly. He smells like snikerdoodle cookies. Now that's love.

Anyhow, I was staying up watching Poirot (see earlier post) in order to catch Dr. Who on late night public television. Yes, I watch PBS. Yes, I listen to NPR. It's true, I'm a liberal. But, here's the catch, I'm not from the coasts! Egads! I'm from... da da da... the middle of the US! Arkansas!!!!! Can it be true?

But I digress...

Staying up way past bedtime (in my case because of wine and a midafternoon nap, in his case because I made him) we caught This or That. It's this Burlesque game show that airs in San Fran, New York, Atlanta, and Arlington, Va (D.C.). It was hilarious. All I can say is "Sensual balloon popping." Wow.

Awesome what people will do...

I love not having cable. It forces me to find this stuff.

Fuck VH1.

Read More...

Hmmmmm

I just realized that in my sick delirium I put my underwear on inside-out this morning.

Too late now.

Read More...

Someone might see...

There are certain essentials that I always carry with me, no matter where I'm going. Even on days I'm not carrying my gym bag, I always have a purse big enough to carry a water bottle, my iPod, and a book. Yes, I always have a book. I'm a geek.

Well, the other day when I was packing up my bag, I couldn't decide what book to bring. I was reading two books at the time: Augusten Burroughs's Running with Scissors and (whew, this is hard to write...) Kathy Tyer's Star Wars: The Truce at Bakura. Even though I really wanted to continue the Star Wars book, which is set immediately after Return of the Jedi, I honestly thought this thought, "But I can't read a Star Wars book in public... What will people think?" So I packed Running with Scissors, which has the literary/hipster seal of approval. Plus it is a good book...

I was recounting this to a friend, because I was so embarrassed that I would think something so silly... I, in general, don't care what people think about me. I listen to what music I want to listen to, I dress how I want to dress, I drink what I want to drink... but there is a part in ALL of us (I don't care what you say) that makes those statements, the "someone might see" statements... In addition to this moment of weakness, I have also thought to myself that I don't want my iPod to be shuffling through my workout mix when I'm out and about because I don't want to die with Britney Spears playing... It's insane, so not how I really am about stuff... but there it is. I admit it. I care, even just a little bit, about what people think.

Well, when I was talking to my friend, I realized that I'm not the only person who does this. In fact, I realized that most people probably adjust their material expressions based on how others will respond. I also realized that the most retarded thing about it is that people end up impressing people who already agree with them!

How can I explain this? Let's see... Okay, for example, let's say you wear a certain brand of shoe in order to be seen as a certain type of person. The person that recognizes and validates the symbolism of that shoe you are wearing has to also inherently recognize the subjective value of the shoe. He has to think the shoe is already cool in order for you to be validated in the coolness of the shoe socially.

Let me put it another way: If I get on the train and I'm reading a copy of McSweeney's instead of the Star Wars book I really want to be reading, I am only capable of impressing other Metro riders who recognize the same social value of McSweeney's that I recognize. Metro riders who have no idea what it is don't care. Only other people placing the same symbolic value on my reading recognize the value of McSweeney's or would care enough to judge the value placed on a Star Wars book. Whether it be a yuppie with a Louis Vitton bag or a hipster with an Irvine Welsh book, it's essentially preaching to the same self-obsessed, image-conscious choir.

In the end, it's people trying for other people who care enough to try too. It seems so silly, when you think about it that way.

Of course, this is a harsh generalization. I know a lot of people read McSweeney's because it's frickin' hilarious and people who buy Louis Vitton because of the amazing craftmanship... I consider myself the type of person who wears what I want because I like it... But, come on and just admit it people! We all care what other people think, no matter how much we say we are above the fray, how alternative, how independent thinking, how unmaterialistic, how self-assured we are... No one lives in a social vacuum. Even if the only people we care about caring are the five other people who know the name of the obscure band we are seeing at a show at a club that opened for business only two days ago. Stop pretending! Embrace it! You care too!

And I guess I can give myself some slack for being embarrassed about Star Wars. I think it's fair to say that EVERYONE on that train would have been silently judging me for reading a Star Wars book. That's not just uncool... That's pretty geeky.

If you only knew...

Read More...

Frizzle Frazzle

Okay, so I promised to update on my to-dos with "Healthy Living 2006." As of now, I'm failing... not because I haven't been eating well, exercising regularly, and getting lots of rest, but because I've been sick for a frickin' week with what appears to be a sinus infection. I've essentially been sleeping for the past five days. Grrr... The week before, I went running three times and did free weights at home twice... I watched my money, worked hard, set up two new things to expand my resume while I'm working in preservation instead of exhibits... It was good. And then? And then sinus pressure, headache, and fatigue.

Grrrrr.

Well, hopefully next week I will be back on track for "health living." I can go back to work and digitize more fishies, get back to the gym, and make some of the yummy meals I planned for this week. Also, on Wednesday, I am going back to help the Curator at the Woodrow Wilson House on their next exhibit. It's on this French designer, Worth. I love the Woodrow Wilson House. When I was last there, I was given so much responsibility and had an entire exhibit script, plan, and research to show for my efforts. I won't be able to be as involved this time around, since I'm only able to work one day a week, but when I am there, I know I'll definitely be getting my hands dirty. I'm excited!

Also, because I'm a nut, I'm going to be joining an American Studies Writing Seminar to work on an article that seems so close to being done...but I know isn't. Right now, it's at about 35 pages and the interpretation of the primary sources is pretty good. But I need to do more with the historical context section. Plus I have to figure out what journals and what bent they are more interested in... The Professor who's teaching it is so wonderful to let me in the class, since I am no longer a student and I was never an American Studies masters student. I took several of her content classes when I was getting my masters in Museum Studies and we really took to each other. The class is basically for her PhD dissertation students who are writing there diss. chapters. I get no credit for the class and I can't put it on my transcript. I'm just doing it because I want to write and publish an article in my free time. God, I'm insane...

Of course, the subject is just so fun. And this is what I love doing. I love writing, especially academic papers. I would tell you what the article is, but I don't want you to steal my amazing idea. Hey, publishing in academia is cutthroat man! Some guy published a book on the same subject, like, one second before my dad was going to defend his dissertation. Seriously.
I will say that the article is a cultural studies/media studies subject with a women's studies bent. And that it involves watching lots of bad 1970s/80s soap operas. The way I see it, soap operas can't do nuttin' but help my "healthy living," man.

Rock on, Mr. Perm, rock on.

Read More...

Bye Bye Monkey.

I have a lot of different posts I'm working on right now, but I have have have have to post this first:

I found out yesterday that one of the best friends I've ever had is moving to Boston for an AMAAAAAAZING job in the costume/textile department of the Museum of Fine Arts.

I became friends with Allison the moment I saw her at orientation my first day at GWU. She had short, funky hair, cute clothes, a wonderful smile, and worn out flippity flops. I said to myself, that girl is going to be my friend. I know, it sounds so superficial and it's actually against my better judgment to find friends that way (as I'll explain in a later post) but it was less what Allison was wearing and more her presence. I actually became friends with my bestest friend Jennipher because she had an awesome red leather coat and wicked red glasses... Allison and Jennipher are the only two examples of people I continue to like based on these originally superficial assumptions... In both of these cases, I'm so lucky I used to be vain and superficial, because I don't know what I would have done these last two years without both of them.

Luckily for me, Allison thought the same thing about me. We immediately made plans to watch Girls Just Want to Have Fun and quickly became our own little twosome. Eventually, our group of friends filled out and now includes other amazing people I can't imagine being without... but Allison is still my Monkey. She's still that other part of my superhero team. When I see a mullet on the Metro, a great fashion faux-pas like hooker shoes, get great news, or have a clothing/hair/life crisis, Allison is invariably the person that I call first... Okay, sometimes I call my husband or mom first, but you get the idea. She's my girl. And she's leaving...

So, this post here is a shout-out to Allison Sloan Murphy, kick-ass Californian stuck on the East Coast and all-around amazing best friend. She's the kind of girl you feel lucky to have met, even if in order to do so you just spent $70,000 to get an ultimately useless, niche Masters. Allison being my friend is worth every loan check I write.

Good Luck in Boston, Allison. I'll miss you terribly. I'm just a MySpace comment away.

Read More...

All Aboard the Health Train!

So, New Year, New You, right? Although I usually make a very specific resolution, like "buy less celebrity gossip magazines," this year I'm going obtuse and mantra-esque... "Healthy Living" in 2006.

I know, I know, what does "Healthy Living" even mean and how in the world would one keep up such a resolution?

Essentially, the gist is that I want to eat better, work out more, have more patience, read more, be proactive... I want to be healthy emotionally, physically, and, cough cough, "spiritually." Okay, that one can go, it's just it's sort of a triumvarate and I couldn't exclude it.

This last year was a major stresser... I was always running around with my temper ready to flare, my mouth filled with crap food or beer, and my eyes filled with tears. I know, it's sounds so melodramatic, but it's true. I realized that all of the drinking, stressing, and life-changes were taking a toll on me and my personality. I was just so tired and anxious all of the time. So, I decided that this year, I will change the things that I can so I have a better chance of handling the things that I can't. Plus, I gained ten pounds and that has got to go.

Thankfully, it's not as bad as the great Zoloft incident of 2002, where I packed on 35 pounds in about a month, thanks to my lovely and less than forthright shrink:

Doctor: Elizabeth, we have decided that you have OCD and Panic Disorder. We think you should take some Zoloft, which is the only FDA approved SSRI for OCD.
Elizabeth: Um, okay. If you think it will help. Are there any side effects?
Doctor: Well, yes. You might have dry mouth, vivid dreams, and sexual disfunction. But probably not. Trust me.
Elizabeth. Well, okay. I guess it's worth it.

Two months and 35 pounds later, I discovered that Zoloft had one more side effect than the doctor had told me: Sudden and extreme weight gain... oh yeah and as long as you were on the Zoloft, you couldn't lose it. New diagnosis: Depression due to Zoloft side effects. What's the point of not having panic attacks if you don't like sex and your pants don't fit?

With the help of my best friend and health junkie Jennipher, a treadmill, and a healthy diet, I lost all of the weight and then some. But, with this last year, I just haven't been able to live and take care of myself like I want to. Thus, "Healthy Living 2006." I don't have Zoloft's extreme side effects as an excuse for my health this time, I just have me and my choices.

In order to facilitate this resolution, I am planning on doing weekly updates on my blog as to my progress, activities, etc. If I know people out there (some I'm sure I like, some not... you know who you are) are reading this, it pushes my results into the spotlight. People always perform better, make "right" decisions, behave when they think they are being watched. It's the best part of society, I think. Positive behavior out of guilt/legal action/shame.

So, if you don't like reading those sorts of posts, sorry. I promise there will also be cultural critiques along with my obsessive overviews of my diet. Unless I decide they aren't "healthy." Just kidding.

Cheers.

Read More...

New Year, Scmew Year...

Well, it's official. It's 2006. 2005 is finally over. Whew. Jesus Christ, it took a long time...

I was talking to my mom and her hope was that we don't have a repeat of 2005 and I heartedly agreed... but then I started thinking about it and a lot of good stuff happened last year. I got a contract at the Smithsonian, graduated with my Masters, wrote an entire exhibit for the Woodrow Wilson House, got married, had several parties celebrating this fact, went to other dear friends' weddings, made new friends... but then there was that one thing that seems to be fogging up my family's memories of 2005. It's insane how one bad thing, just one, can shape how we remember every other event. 2005 = the Year Grandma Died.

Hopefully, in time, I'll remember 2005 as the year that I got married, received my Masters, and started my life as a museum professional... that also happened to be the year my Grandma passed on.

As for 2006, I'm hoping for a year without a bad thing to define it... In fact, it would be nice to have a year of just ho-hum for once. So, here's to seeing the same old friends, drinking the same old beer, seeing the same old movies, and all the wonderfulness of a ho-hum life in 2006!

Happy New Year to All! May your 2006 be exactly what you want it to be!

Read More...

iTunes

Open iTunes/iPod or Windows Media Player to answer the following:

Go to your library.

Answer, no matter how embarrasing it is. Seriously. I even put that
I have Britney Spears on here and you know I'm a music snob... I used
my WHOLE library, not just what's on my iPod or what I listen to. So
there's stuff from Junior High on here. Isn't iTunes awesome?

How many songs? 18564

Sort by artist

First artist: !!!
Last artist: Pinchas Zuckerman

Sort by song title

First Song: "...Baby One More Time" by Britney Spears
Last Song: "Zum Gali Gali" by Yiddish Swingtette

Sort by time:

Shortest Song: "The Sky Is A Harpsichord Canvas" by The Olivia Tremor
Control (00:04)
Longest Song: "Sound of Confusion" by Brian Jonestown Massacre (33:02)

First Album: !!! by !!!
Last Album: "Zoot Suit Riot" by Cherry Poppin' Daddies

First song that comes up on Shuffle:
"Life Sentence" by Dead Kennedys

How many songs come up when you search for "sex"?
52

How many songs come up when you search for "death"?
109

How many songs come up when you search for "love"?
799

How many songs come up when you search for "you"?
1475

How many songs come up when you search for "why"?
47

Put the next 20 songs that come up on shuffle:

Note: I only used my iPod playlist because otherwise I would have all sorts of books/spoken word. I only shuffle with that playlist anyhow.

Put the next 20 songs that come up on shuffle:

1. The Ronettes "Why Don't They Let Us Fall In Love?"
2. Son Volt "Drown"
3. Scissor Sisters "Take Your Mama"
4. Elliot Smith "Good to Go"
5. Velvet Underground "Rock & Roll"
6. Cat Power "In This Hole"
7. Whiskeytown "Tennessee Square"
8. Iggy and the Stooges "Shake Appeal"
9. Deke Dickerson "Track 04 from Randy's Mix"
10. Bob Dylan "Mississippi"
11. Ani DiFranco "Cloud Blood"
12. The Promise Ring "The Deep South"
13. Serge Gainsbourg "Bonnie and Clyde"
14. Bjork "Army of Me"
15. Elton John "This Song Has No Title"
16. Talking Heads "Slippery People"
17. Billy Lee Riley "Red Hot"
18. Loretta Lynn "Miss Being Mrs."
19. The Softies "Fragile, Don't Crush"
20. Aretha Franklin "Drown In My Own Tears"

Read More...

Particulars

Well, I'd thought I would post a little update on what's been goin' on lately.

Today I'm getting a TON of work done. I'm digitizing like a fiend and I've had a lot of really nice illustrations to work with. Plus my coworker isn't here, so I have peace and quiet. If you know me, you know that I love talking. However, when it's worktime/papertime/readingtime, I get down to business like a squirell looking for his nuts. So, as much as I am great in a team or social setting or like a coworker, I really like working on my own sometimes.

As for the new job hunt, it's still going. I have my eye on some writing positions and a digital imaging specialist one too. Right now, I'm applying here and there to jobs I really want, since I'm not desperate. I've been extended at the Smithsonian with chance for another extension after that. So, I have full-time museum work until about June as of now. I'm going to start assisting (for free) on a new exhibit at the Woodrow Wilson House, where I wrote an exhibit last year. I will hopefully be going to the various archives around and digging into personal letters and other primary documents. I know, can you believe it? I'll work for free? Gotta love the museum field. We're all suckers. I think we fancy ourselves activists in a way. Our motto? Preserving and educating one obscure object at a time.

I've also been reading a ton lately. I admit that I actually read a Pride and Prejudice sequel, called Mr.Darcy Takes a Wife. Man, is it saucy. Whew. Apparently Austen purists HATE it, but I didn't care that much. The plot was okay, the characters pretty much in keeping with the original, the archaic language overused, and some of the sex scenes bizarre. But, if it means more Mr. Darcy, I have to admit I'm not that picky. I watched What A Girl Wants for Christ's sake, just for Colin Firth. Last night I finished Lamb: the Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal by Christopher Moore. I would definitely recommend this one. It's like Last Temptation of Christ, but the with word "fuck" (a lot), teenage angst, boyhood pranks, and Kung Fu. Hilarious, touching, and fairly well researched. I'm a big fan of reimagined historical figures. It shows that there are more dimensions to our "heroes" than a lot of the crap we're fed in public schools, even if it is fictional. Breaks that wall down, you know?

I've been reading some non-fiction too. Even though I'm not in school, I got the syllabi for some cultural studies classes at GWU and I have some of those articles set aside. I've been trying to reread Deleuze and Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, since I never really got my head around it the first time... And, since becoming obsessed with Lost I've been poking around Locke and Rousseau.

That's really about it. I've been trying to socialize as much as possible, since most of my friends start their new jobs starting the first of the year and we'll all go back to being exhausted. I'll be spending New Years here in D.C. for the first time ever. I've been in Arkansas for every other year. We're doing a Murder Mystery party that's a college reunion script. So, a keg, some pizza, jello shots and drinking games will add to the ambiance of our bad 90s clothes. Rock on.

Well, back to my Nectoliparis pelagicus, I guess.

Read More...

I hate shopping...

Well, Christmas is almost upon us and I have barely bought any presents. I have ideas, but a small budget for the festivities. Since this is the first XMAS since my Grandma died, we're all keeping it small. She was really the instigator of the Great American Potlatch, as my mom has dubbed Christmas at my Grandma's house. No more potlatches, I guess. Well, until my sister shoots out little ones. Don't look at me, man. My clock is ticking but I'm choosing to ignore it.

I guess things could be worse than having to go XMAS shopping. Like, I don't know, having to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge to get to work. And the way that Bloomberg keeps treating the strikers like they are criminals? Sometimes I wonder why we still have unions, the way that they are so bureaucratic and all... but then you get a situation where you realize workers need a voice. I don't know all the particulars, but it seems like to me that NY should just pay them more... The strike is hurting the big businesses more than anyone, because people are staying home from work. And it's Big Business that pushes an anti-union, low-wage culture in the first place. They (Big Business, Bloomberg and their 'Publican friends) are just shooting themselves in the foot with this one. Of course, I'm a commie so I'd side with the workers, wouldn't I?

On another note, the Danielson Famile is a weird weird band. My iPod just shuffled me a song from Tell Another Joke At the Ole' Choppin Block and I actually had to pause what I was doing and adjust my senses. That doesn't mean I don't like it, though. My favorite things are ugly.

Read More...

Bring 'Em Home, Mr. President

Well, well, well... seems as if Bush has realized the power of actually appearing before the people. The man seems to have given more press conferences the last two weeks than he did his whole first term.

In a recent one, Bush finally took responsibility for going to war in Iraq. And admitted that the decision was partly based on false information. Wow. Cause I didn't know that already. Thanks for catching up Bush. Nice to know you're up to date on what the hell is happening in the world.

While some might think that this is perhaps the sign of a new, humble, accountable President, I say bollocks. This admission is because his ratings are dropping, over 2000 American soldiers have been killed, and people are pissed at him. When he finally took responsibility for Katrina, his critics backed off a bit. You don't think this is the same ploy?

Here's the kicker, though. Even if you do believe Bush is being sincere, that he really claims responsibility for sending our men and women into Iraq, well guess what? He sure as hell ain't taking responsibility for bringing them home. At the Pageant of Peace, the White House's annual Christmas festival, Bush led a prayer. Yeah, I know, separation of Church and State is really entrenched, isn't it? But that wasn't even what pissed me off. It was this:

We ask for God to watch over our men and women in uniform who are serving overseas. Their families miss them -- hold a seat open for them -- and pray for their safe return.

So, Bushy, you're responsible for sending Americans over there, but God is responsible for bringing them home? Wow. It's amazing how delusional you really are, Mr. President. How exceedingly trapped in your six years of lies and trickery you have become. Because, if I'm not mistaken, you and your Republican cronies have the power to bring our soldiers home.

All you have to do, Mr. President, is say four simple words...

The War is Over.

Read More...

Poirot

"But Poirot," asks Hastings when Poirot arrives to a costume ball dressed as himself, "The idea was to come as someone famous."

"Precisely."

I grew up watching Mystery on PBS every Sunday night. I couldn't wait for the Edward Gorey opening and I tingled at Vincent Price's creepy voice. But my favorite nights were always those that included the great Hercule Poirot. My mom and Nana are both massive mystery buffs, so I was introduced to the great master Agatha Christie at a very young age. Even before Mystery I had loved that enigmatic Poirot with his funny moustache, his ego, and his egg-shaped bald head.

And then? And then I totally forgot about him. I grew up and started watching MTV. David Suchet, the actor who played Poirot to perfection, was not on MTV but on the British Stage. By college, I had nearly forgotten all about Poirot's beautiful egg-shaped head, his ever-present cane, his constant disdain for those who called him French or mispronounced his name, and his unparalleled mystery-solving skills. Oh, oui, c'est une grande perte.

Recently, however, I have rediscovered the Poirot series that aired on PBS. My local library has a bazillion tapes and my husband and I have taken to watching about one a night.

I have thus decided that Poirot is the biggest, baddest Queen to ever live.

I mean, seriously, what else can you call a person who has a meticulous appearance, an amazing intellect, and a sufferable ego about it all? Who has hordes of admirers and a constant British companion? A Queen.

Actually, a Reine, to be totalement correct.

Read More...

Rest in Peace, Borf. Rest in Peace.

Borf has plead guilty to vandalism and will help in the removal of his so-called "unwanted art." But here's the thing: what if it isn't unwanted?

Personally, I always enjoyed seeing the "vandalism" Borf strewed upon city bridges, buildings, and streets. I liked knowing that someone out there, even a teenage kid from the 'burbs, took the time to create, to express, to DO. Borf wasn't leaving racist or sexist hate speech. He wasn't leaving unrefined blobs of paint. Rather, he made finely detailed stencils. His graffiti felt more like art than vandalism to me.

Okay sure, sometimes all he (or his copycats) left was loosely scribbled white paint spelling out his name on a trash bin... But all the same, I liked knowing that somewhere out there, in the great expanse of D.C., Borf was holding a spraycan of white paint and creating new public art in this sometimes sterile city.

Read More...

Games + Music = Geek Fun

So, a friend on MySpace sent out this bulletin:




It's a picture with 75 bands in it, all identified by visual and word hints. I'm now sitting at my computer on a Saturday morning trying to get them all.

This is what I have so far:

1. Eels
2. Rolling Stones
3. Queen
4. Prince
5. Sex Pistols
6. Beach Boys
7. Hole
8. Black Flag
9. Led Zeppelin
10. Seal
11. Lemonheads
12. Talking Heads
13. Radiohead
14. Smashing Pumpkins
15. Scissor Sisters
16. Crowded House
17. Postal Service
18. The Pixies
19. Styx
20. Iron Maiden
21. Eagles
22. Iron Maiden
23. The Cars
24. B-52s
25. Spoon
26. Alice in Chains
27. Blur
28. White Zombie
29. Garbage
30. U2
31. Guns 'n' Roses
32. Matchbox 20
33. Blind Melon
34. Red Hot Chili Peppers
35. Ratt
36. Cowboy Junkies
37. The Black Crowes
38. 50 Cent
39. Madonna
40. The Roots
41. Whitesnake
42. Dead Kennedys
43. The Police
44. Deep Purple?
45. Plant?
46. Great White
47. White Stripes?
48. Phish
49. Yellowman
50. Candy
51. Pineapples
52. The Potatoes
53. Mannequin


Some of these items seem to have put in the picture just because they have object names, like "Potatoes" and "Pineapple." But who am I to talk? I only got 53 and some of those I had help on.

So post comments if you see anymore, people.

Read More...

My Husband Hates My Clothes... And I Like It.

The other day, I left the house wearing a bright pink blouse that had ruffles all up the button line, on up to the ruffle collar. Over it I had on a white cardigan with pink, green, and purple dogwoods printed on it. In short, I was a mish mash of collar, color, and bad taste and I loved it. I felt pretty. I felt cute. I felt like Elizabeth.

And you know what? My husband just laughed at me. Giggled and pointed, in fact. Then gave me a kiss on the head and we headed out the door. And you know what? I like it. I like that he thinks I dress funny. I like that he hates that I wear make-up and tells me. I adore that he rolls his eyes at most of the things I bring home from the thrift shop and that he's aghast that anyone would shop at H&M. While smiling at me, of course.

Some of you out there with romantic partners may think my husband sounds mean. That he's rude and insensitive. That he's belittling me or at the very best patronizing me. Well, you can go ahead and think that, because I think it's hilarious if you do. Obviously you don't know him or me very well. If statements like that hurt your feelings, I'm sorry. They sure as hell don't hurt mine. I didn't marry my husband so that he would validate my closet or me, to get right to point. I fell in love with him BECAUSE he hates my clothes and thinks I'm weird. I wanted somebody who was different than me, who had different ideas, different opinions, different styles and could appreciate mine. There are a bazillion hipster clones out there in this world and more power to you if you want to date someone who looks just like you, who likes the same music, who repeats the same ideological crap that you do. Me? I'd rather have someone who challenges me, who is independent thinking, who thinks I'm wacko and I wear funny clothes and that I'm the damned cutest thing ever seen. I want to go to an art museum with my husband and us like some of the same pieces, of course. But if we hated and liked all of the same objects, that would make for a pretty boring life of constant self-validation, don't you think? I want to have things in common with my partner, but I don't want a cookie-cutter of me.

So, here's the thing... My husband can giggle and point all he wants, but I'm still wearing my damned pink shirt with the ruffle collar. As long as at the end of the day he still treats me with respect, still considers me his equal, still values my opinion above all others, still wants me to be the person that I want to be not that he wants me to be, still thinks I'm pretty, still thinks I'm the funniest person he's ever met, I could care less if he likes my shirt.

PS I know that there are men and women that do criticize their romantic partners as a way to belittle, abuse and control them. I am not in any way saying that this does not happen. Just not to me.

PSS Also, I promise I'm not heterosexist. My partner just happens to be a male. I can't help that. Blame it on his parents.

Read More...