Real Santas in Overland Park

I have been charged with the task of finding a "Santa" for my boss's holiday party. I've always found this (American?) idea of meeting the "real Santa" really, really weird. Why would anyone want their child to sit on some strange man's lap just because he's wearing a funny costume and has a tobacco stained beard? Is any child over the age of 3 really that naive as to believe that Santa is hanging around in the local mall? And if they aren't 3 then why bother - they won't remember it anyway? Isn't it so much more magical, interesting and imagination cultivating to not spoil/cheapen the idea of Santa by having him appear at said mall?

Perhaps I am an overly skeptical person and perhaps I was from a young age, but I have distinct memories of telling my father I believed in Father Christmas (as he is called in our family) mostly to keep him happy, much in the same way I ate the pancake he made using the entire jug of batter while my mother was away - I didn't want to hurt his feelings. My brother was still living at home then and we were in Syria, so I couldn't have been older than 5, when I expressed to my father that I was worried Father Christmas wouldn't be able to get into the house, as there was no chimney. He made a big show of leaving the door open a crack and was utterly thrilled to do so. I stood back and watched him enjoy himself, knowing that there was no way a fat man in a red suit would be flying all over the world giving people presents. It made about as much sense as believing in a man who sat up in the sky watching and judging our every move.

But I digress.

In my search for the perfect party Santa, I came across this, the website for the Amalgamated Order of Real Bearded Santas convention taking place in wonderful, Overland Park, Kansas: "Overland Park is "The Natural Choice" for your vacation or business destination."

I've been to Overland Park, Kansas. My experience there reinforced every single stereotype I had developed about the Midwest, from the awful, sugary food from cans, packets or boxes, to the various amphetamine habits of the inhabitants, to the disgusting strip mall culture all the way to racist morons (I was, in all actuality, called a "Sand Nigger" when I was there).

It is not the "natural choice" for anyone's vacation and these poor Santas, traveling from such far away, nice, places such as Sweden or Germany are going to be utterly horrified. Much more than they were at last years convention which was in Branson, Missouri, also known as Vegas for Christians.

Moving on, I also came across this site and then burst out laughing. I am made uncomfortable by these sorts of things and thus resort to laughing: it smacks of pathetic effort. Look at Santa Dave from Vista, California. He's had professional photos taken, he probably has a head shot he sends out. Never mind that the photos were taken at Sears and he's looks almost as made up as Michael Jeffries, it's the effort that shows. And it makes me uncomfortable that so much effort is put into something so depressingly bad.


Santa Herbert of Vallejo and Napa Valley has a picture that looks like it was taken off of the Megan's Law website and Santa Randy of San Francisco just looks pissed.

Strange men. Again.

A few months ago I made a blog entry about this man:


He is (or was) featured in an American Apparel ad for a V Neck T-Shirt. I discovered today, through perusal of my old blog entries that they had replaced his picture. You can sort of detect a smugness about his expression: he knows he looks ridiculous and he also knows that tons of skinny jeaned, behoodied teenage boys will be staring at his picture going "Is this the new look?? I hope I hit puberty soon or I won't have the 70's porn star chest hair display and homeless man stubble in time for the Ladytron show!"

Anyway, they replaced it with something much more their style:

This man looks equally sad and pathetic, he just happens to look like a date rapist instead of Gene Wilder's illegitimate son.

I like to think that the change is because someone read my original blog entry. I really hope so.

Freecycle

My roommate Shawn has got me turned onto a program called Freecycle. The ultimate manifestation of one man's trash is another man's treasure, you advertise or peruse advertisements for free stuff. All done by email.

Granted, so far I have yet to find anything of use to me.

OFFER:

1 bag of used men's t shirts, slightly soiled.

OFFER:

1 slightly worn wooden table, comes with 4th leg. U pick up.

OFFER:

Extra roll of aluminium foil, half used up.

But, I have managed to get rid of some things. Like 2 sets of skis I've been hauling around from the days my ski fanatic landlord jilted me on a deposit. I assumed I could get something for them or at the very least, not have to rent my own, the next time I went skiing (whenever that was going to be). They were sitting in our storage unit for the 1.7 years I lived there.

Turns out all they were for me was an extra thing to drag around. Gilda has them now and I hope she's quite happy with them.

I can't stand owning these things and dragging them around with me. I'm glad Freecycle gives me the freedom to load my junk on someone else. I learned this frustration with clutter after living with a borderline text book hoarder for 3 years - he couldn't throw anything away and would get furious if I suggested it. He owned 30 t-shirts and finally, after begging him for months to give some of them away, tired as I was of washing them, I resorted to packing them in suitcases and dragging them to our storage unit. He never noticed. If I'd known about Freecycle, they'd have been gone forever.

My ex-boyfriend (the text book borderline hoarder) and I bought a set of side tables together for $50 at a garage sale. He wanted to sand them, refinish them and apparently they'd be beautiful. One had a sticky drawer - he'd get that fixed right up. He got as far as sanding the top off of one (the one with the sticky drawer) and when he moved out, he took the other one with him, leaving me with and ugly, unfinished side table that had a sticky drawer. Thanks to Freecycle, an old friend of mine from high school is stopping by to pick it up, he'll be here in a minute or so - not only is Freecycle helping me declutter, it's putting me in back in contact with people I'd lost touch with! He's also taking the TV that the hoarder's parents gave me for my birthday despite the fact that I never asked for one nor do I have a use for one!

Freecycle is great therapy. It helps people get rid of all sorts of things. House furnishings purchased with the best of intentions, woodworking projects gone wrong, "skinny" clothes hung on to in the desperate hopes of fitting into them. Unwanted toys for both pets and children -for me anyway, the relief of getting rid of that crap is more than worth the effort of selling it. Every time something goes away, I feel that much lighter and that much more prepared to face the world.

Decorate your coworkers office!

Perhaps I am a wet blanket or a scrooge or boring but I find the idea that there is a page dedicated to decorating your coworkers office strangely depressing. It might be fun for people who don't have lives or social interactions outside of work.

The article I stumbled upon on wikiHow (irritatingly labeled "the How-To Manual That You Can Edit) describes carefully outlines the steps necessary for curing a case of the Mondays.

The first step is "to find the office or cubicle of the person you intend to throw a party for." The next step is to "identify a good way to decorate it." I think that should probably suffice for anyone who plans to do such a thing, but in the spirit of Jean Teasdale, it continues. It suggests prominently placing a sign "so they know you really want to tell them something." How about a colourful sign made by sponge painting construction paper that reads "You're Fired and I really wanted to tell you!"?

It then suggests wrapping all the objects in there desk with wrapping paper and filling it with something fun, thus preventing them from getting straight back to work.
Instead, they have to waste time, climbing over balloons, and unwrapping individually wrapped office supplies.

"Oh and you even wrapped my pens and pencils. How thoughtful."

The last suggestion is to take pictures "so that you can remember the fun you and your coworkers had for years to come."

I think that if you had to take the step to find your coworkers cubicle or office, you probably don't have any cause to commemorate this event further than you already have.

The final tip:

"Only use certain party items for people who will like them. Otherwise they don't add to the fun."

Sgt. Podge needs a lift

Sgt. Podge is a 12 year old cat that has started disappearing at night. Every morning, his owner, Liz Bullard, on her way back from dropping her son off at school, goes and picks him up at the same spot. On the weekends and when her son doesn't have school, the routine continues.

"Back at home, Sgt Podge has breakfast before going to sleep by a warm radiator."

Although this story has almost no place in a newspaper (it came from the BBC, strangely enough), I'm going to suspend my usual sarcasm and say: I really enjoyed it. I can't think that an American would do the same thing, I think British people (at least in the case of my family) have a strong respect for their pets as individual beings with the capability of handling their own responsibilities, feelings and decisions.

I also like the idea that the cat has come to rely on his lift home and has somehow convinced Bullard to pick him up every day.

And that Bullard is the kind of person who would, every morning, go and pick up her cat with the same punctuality and solemness required of picking up another human being - it's something I bet my mother might do, given the right circumstances.

Ryan is in Russia

Here is what I have been thinking about:

Kaliningrad is 10 hours ahead. He arrives home on Sunday evening. Because of the time difference, he departs Kaliningrad on Saturday night. Right now it's Saturday morning (there). Which means he's leaving tonight according to his clock.

According to mine, he's leaving tomorrow night. What adds to the weirdness is the feeling of time stopping when you are on a plane. Like that time doesn't quite count somehow.

He's sitting in Kaliningrad thinking,

"I'll be on my way home tonight."

and I'm thinking,

"He's not going to be home for another 2 days, he's not leaving until tomorrow night."

Those two points, while one is much farther in the future for me and despite the fact that we are existing in the same moment presently, are actually one point: the point he arrives.

Alternatively, on the way there, he spend 2 days traveling. 2 days were lost to him, as the plane flight was not 48 hours - during this time loss, I went to work twice and had 2 full days.

What a weirdly exhilarating feeling.

Wagging the Dog.

How about this? In addition to us having to put up with images of Arnold Schwarzenegger and George Bush having a make up making out backstage of their press conference regarding the S. California fires, FEMA had their own press conference during which they had employees ask scripted questions.

" The Federal Emergency Management Agency, still struggling to restore its image after the bungled handling of Hurricane Katrina in 2005, issued the apology after The Washington Post published details of the Tuesday briefing.T "

Details on what the hell they were thinking here.

Sexy Research Assistant

The story so far:

Someone who has repeatedly flaked on me, to the point of absurdity, suggested dinner. The plan was for Wednesday, but, true to form, he flaked! I'm not sure why he flakes 90% of the time, if he's poorly organized, unable to reconcile some residual feelings for me (and is working through it by strangely suggesting meeting and then flaking at the last minute) or if he's just a rude person. Anyway, here was my response. I've included it in this blog because it'll be a good reference point in the future for what I was doing in late October, 2007.

I'm back from Austin on Sunday. It won't be as fun as it theoretically could be, it's a wedding. In addition to that, I'm in it.

!

I have to read a poem. Talia suggested that I read the following:

I carry your heart with me(I carry it in
my heart)I am never without it(anywhere
I go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
I fear
not fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)I want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart(I carry it in my heart)

e.e. cummings

I responded with the following:

>I read that one. Unfortunately cannot stomach it as the last time I heard it, it was coming out of Cameron Diaz's mouth, directed at Toni Collette in one of the sappiest, most awful movies I've ever had the misfortune of waking up in front of. God damn you, HBO!

>The scene was during the wedding which, I might add, took place at a jerk chicken restaurant. A jerk chicken restaurant.

>So, rather than risk vomiting (pre-reception party), on your special day and on my new dress, I'd rather not.

>xoxo ali

As for Halloween, I've retired my "sexy cop" outfit and my "sexy nurse" outfit as well as my "sexy dentist" outfit, my "sexy mcdonald's clerk" outfit and my personal favourite, my "sexy certified public accountant" outfit. I'm not dressing up: I've grown to appreciate Halloween for what it is, a reason to eat candy and wear bad and revealing clothes. As I can do that anytime of year, I usually don't celebrate it. What about you?

Preparing Fido

I found this today.


It's a cd of baby noises to help your pet get used to a squalling larval human before the larval human has actually been born.


Imagine sitting around listening to a cd of a crying baby while your dog freaks outs trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

Smoking Cessation Therapy

It seems that companies are now paying for smoking cessation programs for there workers. I found this interesting as my father returned to smoking after having quit for 10 years. He started for a number of reasons, one of them being finding a "smoking buddy" with my now ex-boyfriend. ("Reason # 103 for asking you to move out, you passively encouraged my father to continue smoking!")

These programs, as described in this NY Times article, often include nicotine patches, drugs to ease withdrawal and phone sessions with counselors.

"Spending as much as $900 or so to give a participant free nicotine patches and drugs to ease withdrawal, as well as phone sessions with smoking addiction counselors, can more than offset [the cost]"

I read that and thought about what a phone session with a smoking cessation counselor might be like.

"Hey! It's your smoking cessation counselor. How is everything??"

"Oh fine. I kind of want a cigarette right now."

"Why do you think you want that cigarette?"

"Well. I think... it's the nicotine addiction."

"And why do you think that?"

"Um. I think there's some fairly substantial scientific research to suggest it."

"And how does that make you feel?"

"It makes me feel like I'd like to have a cigarette."

"Where do you think this dependency comes from? Do you think that it might have something to do with what we discussed last session?"

"You mean the time my dog got hit by a car and my parents told me he ran away because I did not clean my room?"

"Yes."

"I'm not sure how that has anything to do with my..."

"Great. I feel like we've reached a breakthrough here. Same time next week?"

My Latest Evolutionary Quandary

A strange thing happened last week and it has raised this question for me:

How much of a persons personal situation should be taken into account when judging how to react?

EVOLUTION, the MOB MENTALITY and CHEATER DETECTION

Studies have shown that humans are far more likely to remember faces of those who cheated them than those who did not. This "cheater detection" makes evolutionary sense: If I wish to protect myself from further damage, I better remember their face. Maybe this is also why people hold grudges, are unable to forgive and developed such emotions as frustration, anger as well as the ability to plan ahead.

This need for protection must have also lead to loyalty and perhaps even the tool that so many dictators use: mob mentality. Mind, I am not referring to group selectionism, because it doesn't exist. Mob mentality would be beneficial because you are raiding or attacking a different group together and there is safety in numbers especially when you all receive similar advantages upon being successful. You go and steal women, adding to your gene pool. Chances are, you are already related to everyone in your group* so this has many advantages. New blood introduced into the group and your brother might find a mate, thus passing at least some of your genetic material, not to mention the chance to spread your own genetic material around some, with the women you don't steal.

People search for these mobs, false groups are created, people are constantly looking to belong to something or someone. No one stays in their home towns any more and home towns are much bigger than they ever used to be. It' s no wonder that things like facebook and MySpace are so popular - in the old days, you knew your ex-boyfriend was still working at the soda fountain because you saw him there. Nowadays, the curiosity is still there, but how to go about satisfying it, seeing as you can't just walk passed the shop window? What about Second Life? All the ease of belonging to something with none of the pressure that goes along with it.

WRITING LETTERS

So how do identify cheaters when you can't actually see their face or really know anything about them beyond what they have chosen to share with you (which may be a baldfaced lie from them, entirely misinterpreted on your part, half truths, whole truths, mostly truths, believed to be truths but in actuality false, preconceptions, misunderstandings and what is reality anyway?).

All these questions exist in face to face interactions but, true to form, the internet magnifies, aggrandizes and intensifies to absurd proportions. Take for example, written word. It both allows for complete descriptions of emotions and feelings but leaves the door wide open for any interpretation the reader chooses. For the purposes of this examination, let's say the email replaced the letter. It not only replaced it, it created it's own purpose, it's own language, it's own set of etiquette rules. But people write emails now instead of letters. Letters take a long time to be written, sent, read and replied to. They have to be drafted, reread and let's face it, having to find a stamp, an envelope and an address is much more time consuming than hitting the send button. So what we have is a magnification of misinterpretation, simply by reason of the fact that email is faster. This misinterpretation is augmented by the short, sharp nature expected of emails. The composition form of a letter, the use of descriptive language and lengthy material is inappropriate. To borrow from Orwell, we are developing a form of Newspeak.

THE MEAT: MY OWN ISSUE

This brings me to my own issue. How do I feel about a person who may or may not have undisclosed personal issues who has expressed, via several emails, deep and venomous disapproval the decision that Ryan and I have made to get married? Through the email that she may or may not suspect me to have read, she questions Ryan's true intentions and suggests that he has made a very unwise and rash decision for no reason other than his wanting to inflict intense pain on everyone he is close to. She uses members of his family as examples of people he has made miserable and by doing this she avoids any culpability.

In short, she sounds prideful, hurt and angry, but mostly tremendously unhappy and not necessarily because of Ryan. I think about her particular situation: cold, in a trailer, up north, with few friends. The winter is drawing near, it must just be getting colder. She doesn't drive, so she must take the bus to school. It's much wetter up north so that means standing in the rain. She is an older undergraduate student. She has no one to really commiserate with besides her husband and perhaps alienates herself as a matter of principal. She perhaps has made some mistakes and is too proud to admit them, to afraid to appear fallible for some reason.

None of this is revealed in any of her emails: it is all secondary information and conjecture. She doesn't mention herself being miserable at all in the email, her displeasure is expressed instead by her incense and moral outrage at Ryan's behaviour.

It almost feels dishonest and unfair that she is not revealing more of herself in the email. To me she has left the impression of a "cheater" to use the evolutionary psychology sense of the term. Her only mention of herself and her own experience is to assert that she was indeed a much more emotionally mature person as well as much more prepared for marriage at 19 than Ryan is at 26. She is also angered that he brought her experience up at all - claiming that the discussion was not about her, it was about him.

As much as I give people the benefit of the doubt, second chances, third chances, 50th chances, especially when I think about their extenuating circumstances or even just regular circumstances, I can't shake this feeling of dislike for her. I think I regard her, innately, as a "cheater" and someone not to be trusted. Someone who holds values that I find unattractive. This bothers me because is singularly uncharacteristic of me to abjectly dislike someone for not attacking me directly. Especially someone who's opinions bear little or no effect on my own life. Most especially someone I haven't even met. I consider it immoral and against my principles.

So I am in, once again, an evolutionary quandary. My genetic programming is telling me to be annoyed, mistrustful and to dislike her and yet my education, principles and culture are telling me that not only is it a waste of time, it's mean and unfair. How do I reconcile this?


*you're probably related to the next tribe over too, just not as closely - and beyond 1st cousins, the danger of deleterious recessives is as negligible as breeding with a stranger on the street

Here Come the Warm Jetsons

A few weeks ago, I made this remark to someone:

"I wonder how long it will take before shoulder pads come back into fashion?"

After the word "shoulder pads" I shuddered.

Well, they have hit the runways are featured in the spring collections. Far be it from me to keep an eye on the fashion world, I just couldn't not comment on the fact that it seems that soon, we will all be expected to dress like the Jtson's and that it seems TV shows from the 50's and 60's were absolutely correct about what life would be like in the "distant future" of the 2000s (at least in terms of clothes). Soon our houses will be filled with kidney shaped accessories done in silver and lemon yellow. The electric and hybrid cars will soon go out of fashion - what better way to reduce your carbon foot print than to make no print at all with a hover car! Of course, soon surprisingly humanoid aliens that bear a striking resemblance to a people wrapped in tin foil and duct tape will come and either dominate the earth and enslave us or their presence will become commonplace and they'll move in next door.

I can't wait!

Lists: more odd things

*Waiting on hold for some lackey to talk to me about some cameras and pondering this question:

"Exactly how obnoxious is it to post GPS coordinates on your website's contact us page?"

Lists: odd things

*Every time I go into my bank, the Food Network, on mute is on all the televisions. I think this is strange, but I also couldn't come up with a better option except possibly No Television.

*A friend of Ryan's acted poorly when he told her that we were getting married. I don't want to think about it anymore, yet my mind keeps wondering back to it. I feel like I should rise above it, I know that it doesn't really matter. Perhaps that's the concern - maybe she is worried that she doesn't matter and is trying to change that by behaving badly, to have some effect on Ryan's life, even if it is negative.

*Hubig's Fruit Pies mysteriously appeared in the office and then not so mysteriously disappeared. Well. Except the coconut flavour. Duh.

*I had a long dream last night and woke up with absolute determination to write a letter to the person who the dream was about - they weren't in it, it was a dream about their absence. I've had the dream at least twice before, somehow I wander into my beloved house in Santa Barbara and it's been done up with nice furniture, more loft space and beautiful artwork is on the walls. The house is empty, they are in Bend, Oregon except for one girl I've never met, who lives there now. I'm annoyed that she's there and she's uncomfortable that I'm there. I try and leave a note on the white board next to the 805 Joy-Walk phone but my handwriting or phrasing or words are all wrong and I keep erasing it. I woke up thinking I must write that letter.

Buddhism

"It's awful, but I just can't help it. Whenever I see the Buddha, I think of Rove. We used to call him "Buddha." Karl's lost weight. Still, if you ever pictured him in a diaper, you never forget it."

George W. Bush, talking to the Dalai Lama

Impending Weddings

I went to Sacramento this weekend to spend some time with Ryan's parents. I had a really nice time because he has a really nice, down to earth, strangely normal family. There is obviously so much unspoken love in that family.

I will say this though: it's strange to spend time with people that you know you are going to know for the rest of your life, but you don't know them very well -yet-.
I imagine that the feeling was mutual but possibly even weirder: here is some girl, you've only met once and you're son is planning on sharing his life with her, yet another reminder that your child is not only an adult, but has a whole life away from you.
------------------------------
In other news:

We've gotten as far as creating a guest list and I understand one is supposed to choose "colours" for the wedding. I've chosen peach and aqua (the bridesmaids will be in long sleeve, peach chiffon with aqua sashes and shoes to match) , but I haven't decided whether or not the theme will be "Disneyana" or "Classy."

I think I want a 4 tier cake, with custom made bride and groom dolls on top - I hear you can get them made with actual hair clippings - so they'll actually look like us too!

I'm hoping to have the reception in some sort of cheap, large, church. It doesn't matter what denomination although I like the modern look of Church of Christ churches and it is always nice when they have gift shops - that way, the guests can buy their own mementos of the weddings, in addition to the key chains and refrigerator magnets that I'll give out at the reception from my chair that's been elevated above everyone on risers so that I can feel like the princess I am.

The magnets will be pictures of me and Ryan and Jeeves. Jeeves will be in a little doggy tuxedo and Ryan will be wearing the jersey of his favourite sports team. I haven't decided on what I'll be wearing but it will either be my Tigger sweatshirt with those jeans I love, the ones with the 9 inch zipper or that floor length, floral shirt dress that I got from the JC Penney catalogue.
My hair: crimped bangs and pulled back into a pony tail of course. I want people to remember that despite the bitch I've been planning on behaving like since I was 10 years old and given my Super Wedding Barbie Doll, I'm still the same Christian rock loving, pressed penny collecting, zany, wacky me!

PS. Ryan and I aren't on speaking terms at the moment. He has flat out refused the idea of us leaving the reception in a horse drawn carriage or even hot-air balloon just because the reception is taking place in the back room of the local YMCA!

Internet Wives and Second Life

This is a bit of a disjointed entry that is an effort to preserve information for a paper.

Rather than writing about the Craigslist Goldigger I'm going to attempt to sum up a conversation that I had with Ryan yesterday regarding internet relationships, such as the one exemplified by this man.

The article that I linked to above is the one that started the conversation - it's about a man who spends all his waking hours (between 6am and 2am) living his "Second Life" with his second wife, that is, his internet wife as opposed to his real, legally bound one.

I made a statement that suggesting that his relationship wasn't real because it wasn't based on reality.

But, in fact, a great many "real" relationships aren't actually based on reality. Also, we go through the same emotions and behaviour with online relationships as we would in the non online world - we aren't equipped otherwise. The man in the story claims that he could express things to his internet wife much more easily than to his real wife - he could tell her "anything." So despite the fact that there is no actual bearing on his life, that there is no "risk" involved in expressing himself, people still get emotionally attached to avatars representing people that don't exist.

The emotions are real, the people aren't.

It's the same situation as seeing someone on the bus everyday and conversing with them. You could be anyone, tell them anything and it wouldn't matter.

Then there's this story, which is fodder for a movie.

Good Calories, Bad Calories and Troglodytes.

There is a current backlash towards the backlash towards fat. I first read about it yesterday in an article by Gina Kolata about Gary Taubes' new book "Good Calories, Bad Calories" (Knopf, 2007). Today, again in the NY Times there is an article about how wrong we are in regards to fat intake and whether or not fat is actually bad for you.

Unfortunately, Gina Kolata's article does little to debunk Gary Taubes other than this blurb at the end of the article:

"I'm sorry, but I'm not convinced."

I'm not convinced either and John Tierney's article today did little to convince me either.

"In the case of fatty foods, that confident voice belonged to Ancel Keys, a prominent diet researcher a half-century ago (the K-rations in World War II were said to be named after him). He became convinced in the 1950s that Americans were suffering from a new epidemic of heart disease because they were eating more fat than their ancestors.

There were two glaring problems with this theory, as Mr. Taubes, a correspondent for Science magazine, explains in his book. First, it wasn’t clear that traditional diets were especially lean. Nineteenth-century Americans consumed huge amounts of meat; the percentage of fat in the diet of ancient hunter-gatherers, according to the best estimate today, was as high or higher than the ratio in the modern Western diet.

Second, there wasn’t really a new epidemic of heart disease. Yes, more cases were being reported, but not because people were in worse health. It was mainly because they were living longer and were more likely to see a doctor who diagnosed the symptoms."

First of all, after WWII, we experienced a cultural and economic shift. We went from a country of farmers to a country of factories, corporations and office buildings. Since then, due to a number of reasons, our lifestyles have gone from active to sedentary, from physical labor to sitting at office desks all day. It would make sense that a fattier diet would not result in the same health problems that are prevalent today: we exercised more and thus needed to eat more.

Second, I'm not sure how often Mr. Taubes or Mr. Tierney has tried to catch game using nothing but a wooden stick, but it isn't easy. There is no way we ate meat in the quantities that we do today and when we did catch it, it was shared among family groups of 20-30 people. It's true we do need fats, sugars and salts. But we like them because they were scarce and hard to come by: Our ancestors who craved meat, went out, caught it, received appropriate nutrition and survived. The ones that didn't died from insufficiencies. Why else would we waste the effort? It's dangerous and hard work to hunt, physical labor or "exercise" is required - much easier to sit around eating roots.

Which brings me to another point. The list of "bad calories" that Mr. Taubes has put in his book:

"Bread and other baked goods, potatoes, yams, rice, pasta, cereal grains, corn, sugar (sucrose and high fructose corn syrup), ice cream, candy, soft drinks, fruit juices, bananas and other tropical fruits, and beer."

This list includes yams, potatoes and bananas - some cultures subsist on diets that are primarily made up of these foods. They do not have a prevalence of obesity. Americans, who live on a diet of McDonalds hamburgers, french fries and oreo cookies do. Bread, cereal grains, corn and beer are all things that we have been consuming for thousands of years. Mr. Taubes argument that "we used to eat it before" appears a little thin here - you can't claim that we've been doing it forever so it can't be bad for you and then suggest that something else that we've been doing forever is instead bad for you.

Unfortunately, this is getting a lot of press and it will provide one more excuse for the overweight troglodytes to eat crap and not exercise.

Addendum to Late For Work

I just arrived home, there was a chewed empty bag of Jeeves "Missing Link" supplement on the floor, Benjamin was missing, there was a trail if discarded cartons and bags out into the garden where Benjy lay on the grass chewed but still in one piece. My bed had mud and dust all over it and chewed tissues from the tissue box were strewn over it!

e

(From my mother)

Late for work

I was 10 minutes late for work this morning. I woke up at 5:15 am, got up and got out of bed and started to walk towards my closet. Something in the corner made me turn my head and I realized that Jeeves was in the corner of my room, in the process of waking up too. He was stretching out his front and back legs while he lay on his side. His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was open wide while his tongue curled upwards towards his top front teeth. I thought it was odd that he was even present, because I had left him at my parents house. I sat down next to him and put my arms around his neck. He was warm and soft and sleepy, so he let me. Normally he doesn't like being cuddled, but when he's really sleepy, he puts up with it. I try and take advantage of that when I can.
As happy as I was to see him, I thought it was really strange that he was there. Then I walked over to the closest, he followed me quietly, with his ears and head carried low and his tail wagging, silently. His nails clicked on the hard wood but it was clear he was trying to be soundless. I started to decide what I wanted to wear. I noticed something on the floor - it was one of his toys, which he picked up and then dropped as he noticed something else, also in the closet. I bent down although I was sure it was another toy. It was, in fact, but not one of his. It was one of mine, a soft toy of a Beatrix Potter character, Benjamin Bunny. He had been given to me when I was very small by my aunt Fran. He wore a little brown jacket and a green tam o shanter and had a red handkerchief in his pocket for stealing onions from Mr. Macgregor's garden.
The day before, Jeeves had savagely torn Benjamin's jacket into pieces and dragged him into the back garden at my parents house. But here he was, lying in my closet with his jacket in one piece. Upon closer examination, I noticed that it wasn't actually in one piece, but rather someone had carefully stitched the pieces back together.

I concluded that my mother must have visited me in the night, bringing both Jeeves and Benjamin, after mending Benjamin's coat. How she hadn't woken me or why she had done it was beyond me. It occurred to me that I might even be dreaming but that made no sense. I was up and awake and getting ready for work.

I continued to get dressed and finally went to turn the radio off. I was right on time. And then I saw myself lying in bed still.

Then I rolled over and looked at the clock only to realize that it was 5:57 and I was supposed to be at work in 3 minutes.

Offending Bits

My dog has earned a new nickname.

"Offending Bits"

Why?

Because he mauled a cherished stuffed animal. And then Ryan said something about getting rid of "Offending Bits" while eating a wormy apple.

Popcorn workers lung

So apparently popcorn is bad for your health. I realize this is old news, but I didn't post it until now because I didn't have enough material to provide a sufficient rant.

Until this entry in the NY Times Editorial Notebook. It's a poorly written article and it's also a general trend in laziness that is pervasive on the part of consumers.

The author describes in detail how for a brief minute, he was scared about all the horrid chemicals in his refrigerator. But instead of doing anything about it, he chose to ignore it.

Which is like an obese person reading an article about how being fat is bad for your health and then thinking,

"Gosh. I am Really Fat. I should do something about it before I die of some awful, obesity related disease such as diabetes. I should really stop eating all this crap and take some exercise."

And then thinking,

"You know, everything in my refrigerator at the moment is made of sugar or animal lard. I'm not going to bother after all."

I realize that it would be stressful and difficult, possibly even time wasting to absolutely make sure you controlled all the ingredients in your food - HOWEVER discovering that all the food in your refrigerator contains sodium poisonate is not a reason not to make lifestyle changes. It isn't hard to cook and eat fresh food and being too busy shouldn't be an excuse, because it isn't actually as time consuming as you would think. It's no less time consuming to make a pot of soup with fresh vegetables and spice than it is to cook a frozen pizza.

Here is an example of the authors thinking:

"Sodium benzoate is ubiquitous. It’s in the lime juice we use for cooking, the tonic water, the oriental chicken marinade, even the hummus...For a moment the anxiety floored me. Then I decided to deal with the burst of consumer angst in much the same way I have addressed other such choices: I looked the other way."

The ubiquitous nature of potentially unhealthy ingredients is not a reason to shrug your shoulders and then bury your head in the sand. Fresh limes don't make sodium benzoate naturally and it takes about 5 minutes to make your own, homemade marinade or hummus and they will taste much better for it. And for god's sake, why not just drink your liquor straight, you wimp.

His argument against trying to eat vegetarian or organic?

"But say I went organic or vegan or something. Might not the peanut butter or the wheat gluten assault me? Addressing these fears head-on would probably require devoting my life to the study of organic chemistry."

I don't need to point out the asinine suggestion that veganism requires a degree in organic chemistry. I do, however, need to point out that "because it's hard" shouldn't be something that so readily stops people from things that are better for their body, their families health and for the rest of the community, especially when it isn't actually that hard.

I don't like doughnuts.

Today I declared my dislike for doughnuts and was summarily told to get off my high horse. It wasn’t directed at me in order to make me feel bad or uncomfortable; indeed the person who made the comment stopped himself about halfway through the word “horse” seemingly realizing that it was coming off a bit callous. It still bothered me.

It bothered me the same way that being called a “movie snob” by photographer Jared Raskind, when I was living in Santa Barbara. He was a friend of mine that at one point refused to rent a movie with me on the grounds that I hated every movie we watched together and it wasn’t fun.

He claimed Steven Spielberg to be one of the greatest directors of all time because he’s made “like, a ton of movies that everybody likes”, a point I disputed by explaining that he was probably one of the highest grossing directors of all times due to his skill at making films that appeal to the lowest common denominator, but not one of the “greatest” directors. He also argued that there was no way I could know whether or not a movie was going to be good before I’d seen it – even if I’d seen the previews, read the book or knew who the director, actors, writers and/or directors of photography were and whether or not I’d hated all of there previous work.

I gave in and subjected myself to Black Hawk Down, biting my tongue and then summarily lying through my teeth at the end when he asked me what I thought, he responded with a satisfied priggish response: “See? You enjoyed it.”

I didn’t but I was still a little hurt and confused by his remarks regarding my taste in movies, much in the same way that I was a little put out by the comment this morning. I wasn’t trying to alienate myself in either case but the feeling that I had gotten was that I had given that impression. That the other person may have been lashing out at me with the same sentiment that I have towards people who only like bands you’ve never heard of or tell you that you wouldn’t “understand” Burning Man unless you’ve been. The sort of people who drive Prius’s powered by their own sense of self satisfaction and are so distracted by their own smugness that they cut you off and drive 5 miles below the speed limit in the fast lane.

A similar experience would be with restaurants. Ryan made a commitment to himself that he was no longer going to go to bad restaurants. This was after a coworker had called him a food snob for not wanting to eat at Chili’s or Chatchke’s or Chevy’s or somewhere like that. After making that commitment and then turning down another offer from a different coworker to go to a place of equally bad value for too much money, she told him he was being “ridiculous."

On the one hand I can see how this sort of behaviour comes off as affected, artificial and pretentious, but it’s really not. I honestly do not like doughnuts and never have. I do ­have guilty pleasures, such as watching only the beginnings of “How Clean is Your House” to be appalled at filthy people’s houses or staying up passed my bedtime eating cheese and watching Fry & Laurie sketches on Youtube.

This reflection has really brought nothing to light for me. I'm still uncomfortable at the thought of people sensing that I am purposely alienating myself but I'm even more uncomfortable at the idea of doing things I don't like, that cost money and make me feel physically unhappy just to make someone else not feel bad about their own choices.

I suspect that compromises are in order and I don't like those either.

Making fun of religious people. Again.

Found this article while doing research for a presentation at work. It's an excerpt from a book called Dressing with Dignity by Colleen Hammond, published by TAN Books. . Most of it is a review of women's fashions, starting with Adam and Eve and ending with the effect on trousers in marketing.

It seems that when women wear trousers, men's eyes immediately follow the line up their legs to the inevitable "woman's most private and intimate area. Not her face! Not her chest!". Apparently "Men's eyes will follow the lines right up her legs and finish the picture in their imagination. Women's eyes may do the same thing, but since women don't have the same type of temptations, their imaginations don't complete the picture in the same way as men's do."

This is my absolute favourite quote out of the article:

"When a woman is wearing pants, a man's eyes will (much to his embarrassment) fall to a woman's crotch. These men also pointed out that it is something that happens without their wanting to do it, or without their realizing it. It's the nature of men "to look" ... and they do!"

Transhumanists and American Princesses

An article about cyborgs, body modification and self-mutilation in Slate Magazine, mentions George Dvorsky, President of the Toronto Transhumanist Association. He "wants to use cyber- and biotechnology to elevate all animals to human status" [From Slate].

I think this is silly, selfish, a waste of time and plays to an idea, pervasive among uneducated and self absorbed individuals who don't understand that evolution does not have an ultimate goal or direction and therefore, one species is not "better" than another. All your genes want to do is reproduce and they don't care why or how. These same individuals also haven't stop to think that not everyone wants to be just like them and despite lacking the right design to speak, compute complex equations or make pancakes, they might not need to in order to be happy.

How about using common decency to elevate all animals to human status? Or even, dare I say it, elevate all
humans to human status?

----------------

Actually, upon reading this article about participants int the WE TV show American Princess, I might need to take that last statement back. I want these people out of my species, particularly the one that said,

"Getting a British title would make things a lot easier, I could put it on my card or my résumé."

Won't someone please think of the cupcakes!

According to todays New York Times, schools in this country are finally getting on Jamie Oliver's bandwagon and improving the food served in cafeterias. Unfortunately, this means that some schools are no longer allowing cupcakes to be served during birthday celebrations. Texas has taken measures to make sure this possibly psychologically damaging atrocity won't happen to their children and enacted the Safe Cupcake Amendment, adding it to the states nutrition policy.

Really. The states nutrition policy.

Don't Texas parents have something better to do than lobby to save cupcakes? For example, instilling the value of good nutrition and a healthy lifestyle for their children?

The Amplification of the Con.

Although the person who forwarded this to me reminded me that there are probably a million stories like it, I still think it's worth posting.


It's about a man who makes huge bids and attempts at takeovers over such companies as Sony Corp., Playboy Enterprises, Inc., but he's actually a homeless guy from the Tenderloin. At least he was, until he moved to Argentina "where he has a home, a fiancee and cats."

Here's some money, go and see a Star War.

Does anyone else think that General Patraeus' name sounds like a Star Wars character?

My Stapler

Upon losing my stapler for the 3rd time, I have since taped this picture to it. Hopefully this will serve as a gentle reminder.

What a strange, strange looking man.

Ryan emailed me telling me he needed more t-shirts. He asked me what I thought of this one, from American Apparel (in lapis).

For those too lazy to click the link*, I've provided the offending picture below and must ask the question: What the hell were they thinking?The man looks like it's laundry day and he's borrowed his mother's shirt in order to go to the laundromat between his Cheetoh snack break and the next episode of Judge Judy. Possibly, if he feels up do it, he might play some Playstation later on or watch a porno if his mother decides to go to bridge tonight. Either that or he's Gene Wilder's illegitimate son. Maybe he's both.

For more amusing t-shirts that are actually wearable: www.threadless.com


*Addendum 27 November 2007: They have since changed the picture. It is no longer of the sad, sad man pictured above, it is of the gaunt, large-headed man below. Please buy something from American Apparel. This man needs to eat.

Making fun of California

Years ago, after the gubernatorial elections resulting in California's current administration line up, I said to a friend,

"Shit. Now we can't make fun of Minnesota anymore."

Now, it's possible, that Michigan won't be able to make fun of us anymore:

http://www.maconareaonline.com/news.asp?id=18176

Although, I have to say that Ted Nugent is a far more appropriate person to run for political office, given the fact that he has, well, opinions about stuff, as opposed to Mr. Schwarzenegger, who has opinions about his hummer.

"At least he has an ethos"

It's interesting because on the point of catching his own food and not liking Hilary Clinton (albeit he is a bit more vehement on this point), I agree with him: I can't say I agree with anything Mr. Schwarzenegger believes in because as far as I can tell, he doesn't believe in anything, particularly.

Strange.

What's between California and New York City again?

Only people not from around here call San Francisco "Frisco" and California "Cali".

Craigslist, always entertaining.

Saw this ad, while perusing Craigslist. I clicked on it, not because I'm in the market to rent a 4 bedroom mansion in Hillsborough for $6500 a month, instead to see what a $6500 a month rental (that's $1650 a room, mind you) would get you.

Upon reading the ad, I realized that it gives you the right to abuse a thesaurus:

One of the parts of the "public living space" (the description of the house is divided into "public" and "private") is a "gated service yard". This was my favourite part of the ad. Why? because of this line:

* Service Yard is gated and a wonderful area to sequester kids, plants or pets

You know, in case your kids, plants and pets need to withdraw into monastic seclusion.

Animals wierder than me

I'm always on the look out for things that are weirder than I am. It helps me feel secure.

Anyway.

Here's the latest, an article from the BBC about a dog with two (2) noses. Forwarded to me by my brother and also seen on Fark.

"He said: "While we were there, sitting by the fire one night, I saw an extraordinary-looking dog that appeared to have two noses.

I was sober at the time, and then I remembered the story that the legendary explorer Colonel Percy Fawcett came back with in 1913 of seeing such strange dogs in the Amazon jungle.

Nobody believed him, they laughed him out of court."

Also from the article

"[The dog] was "quite an aggressive little chap" who stood about 16 inches in height and loved salt biscuits but "wasn't a terribly handsome dog"."

And

"He's very intelligent and with a wonderful sense of smell, as you might think."

Wholesome wear

My friend MargoBee sent me a link to this website about a new line of clothing featuring swimming suits designed to meet the apparent desperate need for modest swim wear. According to the website, their “Waterwear is the first [of their line] to be introduced because the need for modesty in swim wear is greatest and the supply is almost non-existent.”

I’d like to know who actually wrote the copy for the site because that is a strange, ambiguous, poorly constructed and nonsensical statement. Obviously if the need for apparent modesty in swim wear was “greatest” (I'm not actually sure to what context they are referring), this would have been capitalized on years ago. Since it isn’t, the supply is as, the website itself asserts, non-existent.

Until now. Or rather, since the 1850’s.

There are 3 kinds of swimwear, all featuring a spandex undergarment of some mildly offensive colour/pattern – designed to bring attention to the face - and a loose fitting black, purple or blue “Taslan” (whatever the hell that is) potato sack that they refer to as an “outer garment”. All I could think about was how ridiculously inefficient swimming in one of those things would be and that at a price of $50 - $70, one could just as easily swim in shorts and a t shirt.

But that would look ridiculous.

The designs are as follows:

“Culotte” – for the more active swimmer

"Skirted" - for more flexibility, appropriate for going "downtown" after swimming "Slimming" - unsnaps for modest out of water look and with colour lines to help give a slender look.

Awesome.

Reasons People Have Sex

I was forwarded a survey about reasons people have sex.

I skimmed it, because, well, it's a medical paper and I was only interested in "the gist", otherwise known as the abstract, and possibly the conclusion.

Basically,

"Historically, the reasons people have sex have
been assumed to be few in number and simple in nature–to
reproduce, to experience pleasure, or to relieve sexual
tension. Several theoretical perspectives suggest that motives
for engaging in sexual intercourse may be larger in
number and psychologically complex in nature."

This study attempted to learn what other reasons there might be for people to want to have sex, aside from reproduction, you want to and it feels good. The possibilities are quite numerous and amusing.

Here are some of my personal favourites, chosen because of the scenarios that could potentially cause them to occur:

"I wanted to change the topic of conversation"

"I wanted to see what it would be like to have sex with another person."

"It was a favor to someone."

"It seemed like good exercise."

and my personal favourite:

"I wanted to keep warm."

A Slippery Cyan Farmer

He is a slippery, cyan farmer.

^

need ,

I just found a sheet of note paper on which was written the above inscription in my hand. What was I thinking? It's really fun for me to find things that I wrote years earlier and now have not only no recollection of but also no idea why I was writing them.

Also on that sheet of note paper is a derivation of the Trapezoidal Rule for numerical integration of an arbitrary function of a single variable.

Things to do today:
1. I need to do about 3 loads of laundry
2. We should wash my sleeping bag for you
3. Increase the fidelity of plans for a trip to England

I opened the second jar of yoghurt today. It was thick, and yoghurty, and quite good. You should have some from this second jar; it's really much better than the first bit that we ate. I think, next time, it would be good to use whole milk rather than 2%.

Slippery, cyan,
-Ryan

Interspecies collaboration

This is totally cool.

After collecting the [caddis fly] larvae from their normal environments, he relocates them to his studio where he gently removes their own natural cases and then places them in aquaria that he fills with alternative materials from which they can begin to recreate their protective sheaths. He began with only gold spangles but has since also added the kinds of semi-precious and precious stones (including turquoise, opals, lapis lazuli and coral, as well as pearls, rubies, sapphires, and diamonds) seen here. The insects do not always incorporate all the available materials into their case designs, and certain larvae, Duprat notes, seem to have better facility with some materials than with others. Additionally, cases built by one insect and then discarded when it evolves into its fly state are sometimes recovered by other larvae, who may repurpose it by adding to or altering its size and form.

James Bond: Pawn of the Western Propoganda Machine

My father's views on the article mentioned below - he was able to see the original films when they were first released. He's that old. :

"But it all was tied up so closely to its time. The West was drunk over
unfounded claims of superior military power, technology was peeping its
head and amazing the donkey riders in the streets of London, the shock
of Soviet Sputnik only enlivened the imagination but pressured the
propagandists for more make belief.

When I watched Dr. Who in Leicester Square Warner Brothers theater, I
recall a mixture of three feelings: excitement at the unshakably self
confidence of Jamsie (something to emulate?), his gadgets, which were
not so many, but a distinct feeling of disgust at the subtle whipping of
anti-Soviet feelings.

The title of "From Russia with Love" was my confirmation - although, in
a sense, it did not take direct digs at the achievements of those who
sent the first man in space and helped many countries withstand the
onslaught of Uncle Sam... Still it achieved that aim in another subtle
and smooth take: by simply demonstrating that the reaction of Soviet
officials is exactly what the worst Right wing tabloids had been telling
the innocent sheep. Watching in the darkness the, dazed and bewildered,
how a single man, "with 2 liters of alcohol coursing in his system"
RELIEVE them of a nightmare the propagandists wanted them to have.

It was the time. And Jamsie Bondo was the man."

I'm assuming he meant Dr. No and not Dr.Who and his reference to "Jamsie Bondo" is really a reference to "Jerzy Bondov" from The Living Daylights.

James Bond: Incompetent Boob

Those of you who know me may not know that I am a James Bond Fan, as they say. I've seen almost every James Bond film, barring anything starring Pierce Brosnan as he is dreadful. More dreadful than, say, George Lazenby. Maybe.

Anyway. This article espouses the poor quality of Bond's spying abilities as demonstrated in the movie Goldfinger (for a more informative link, go here). For example, his managing to get two sisters killed, both of whom he has coaxed into bed with him at some point or another (one by raping in a stable yard!).

At first, I was upset and disappointed by the article. Who was James Bond if he wasn't a successful, magnetic, attractive (albeit usually somewhat flabby with the exception of Daniel Craig's portrayal ...sigh) debonair super spy, full of smarts and class and romanticism with a touch of a wifebeating devil-may-care attitude...?

Then I remembered that the reason I watch James Bond is the kitsch and the tragic ludicrousness... or perhaps the ludicrous tragedy.

And nothing is more ludicrously tragic than a drunk, incompetent spy.

You're stripping all the life force off of that swiss chard, man.

Today I was fortunate enough to have been made aware of these:

My brother brought them to my attention and we came to this end:

Can't you just imagine the person wearing these, speeding down the highway at 50 mph in a Prius, arguing about Burning Man on his iPhone, wearing those weird woven Palazzo pants that all the tourists in South America buy, with some over priced soy latte drink?

Can you pass The Mull of Kintyre test?

My brother sent me this link, with the question "Can you pass the Mull of Kintyre test?"

It's British bureaucracy at it's finest: to have a designation for erection appropriateness and to make is as arbitrary as a rudely shaped bit of geography.

I had a lot of responses;

"No. I fail it, constantly."

To which he responded:

"I'm quite disturbed that you can take it at all."

I countered:

"Well. The reason I fail it so resoundingly is that I have a constant erection.

In a jar."

Then:

"Actually, it's because of my little problem."

Finally I descend into childishness*:

"That's funny because I've got a thingy that looks just like a peninsula!"

And then idiocy:

"Mah Mull of Kintyre is too big.

Mah Mull of Kintyre is Too Big!

Mah Mull of Kintyre is TOOO BIG!

I AM A BANANA."


*(1m53s)

Charmingly awful

I'm collecting some of my favorite pictures from Lulu.


This is along the same lines as wanting to decorate a room in my house entirely with original artwork found at thrift shops and garage sales.


I like the idea that someone poured their heart and soul into something absolutely mediocre - whether or not they are aware of their mediocrity. I think that the idea is beautiful and smacks of effort that is so rare in today's sarcastic*, lazy world, albeit that it is somewhat painful for me, the observer.

Not to say that these people's books are necessarily bad, I can't say as I have not read them. I can say, however, that their pictures sure are.

I'd like to mention as I have already said, that I love the principal of Lulu, I just wish it was better organized. It is the ultimate representation of American democracy - the ability to take things into your own hands, faulted by it's own lousy programming. The opportunity for free speech for everyone, even those who possibly should not have it.

Coming Soon....

This blog, as seen on The Internet, published by Lulu.


*I am aware of the "pot-kettle" implications of this statement.

Plans

I will be here this weekend.

And then here.

And finally, here.

Oh Lulu Self Publisher, how I do hate thee…

Oh Lulu Self Publisher, how I do hate thee…

The principal is so nice

But my wrists I want to slice

Your system is so awful

It should be unlawful

How frustrating and clunky

Full of bugs and junky

Oh Lulu, I do hate thee…

And now, A Scotsmen with a Computer

I sympathise with this man and salute the police officer for being so understanding.

We made cheese

http://biology.clc.uc.edu/Fankhauser/Cheese/neufchatel/neufchatel.htm

We made neufchatel cheese. That biology professor has a recipe for
pretty much what we made.

-Ryan


Ryan and I made cheese this weekend. I had a particularly frustrating day at work on Friday, no thanks to the technical geniuses at Lulu.com. (I believe that Lulu hires people who weren't savvy enough to maintain positions at Fry's).

True to form, Ryan suggested making cheese upon my request for "something fun" to do, which is what we did on Saturday evening and part of Sunday. Interspersed with watching Fargo and Drop Dead Fred, of course, two memorable films.

The cheese turned out soft and salty, very creamy and delicious.

Next step, I'm going to suggest this to Ryan, is that we make an entire meal from scratch.

Soup, bread, cheese, fresh salad and PIE. All from ingredients picked and grown by us or at least locally grown/produced.

Following this will be our local stew incorporating indigenous plants.

Guns, Cold Beer and a Wedding Dress

Theme:

Marriage. Children. Settling down.

I can’t stop running into it.

Right now, it’s because I feel like I’m being left behind, like I missed some sort of memo, like my avoidance is going to result in my eternal unhappiness. Eternal unhappiness, because I see girls who are so adamant that that is what they want and are so sure that they’ll be able to stop worrying about everything when they are finally married and pregnant. And what if they’re right?

I don’t see the same stability that my contemporaries do. Instead, I see the commitment of having to stay in one place, the stress of having a sick child or being dependant on someone else – and thus being restricted. Arguments about money, compromising your lifestyle and the general worry and responsibility that comes with being part of a family.

I had a practice family for 3 years and I’m sure my fears were enhanced by the experience. When you make that kind of a commitment to someone, there is no going back. You put up with things, change in ways that might not necessarily be right for you and buy furniture you don’t like, all for the sake of keeping everything together.

Despite seeing all of this, I can’t shake of the nagging thought that I’m missing something. It’s not that I don’t want to get married and have children; it’s that I’m afraid to.

I’m not thrilled by the thought of a proposal, I’m nauseated by the attention it will illicit.

I have no need to “have a day”; I don’t think it’s my right as a female and having everyone make a fuss over me is not my idea of fun.

I don’t want to talk to people about babies and being pregnant, the idea that I might not have anything better to talk about is absolutely upsetting. Also, I am petrified of the idea of someone I don’t know rubbing my stomach and am concerned that were it to happen, I might have a somewhat violent reaction.

One might argue that I am generalizing. I don’t disagree, however my reaction is to my peers, who are excited and obsessed by these generalizations. I want someone to explain it to me without blaming their mothers or the media.

Sometimes I get the urge to animatedly and firmly tell my close friends that are in the wedding head-zone, that they should not be defined by their mates and that happiness is achieved by exploration and reflection, not by tying a man to themselves and proving adequacy through competitive child rearing. Occasionally though (and I don’t believe that it’s necessarily incongruous with the earlier sentiment) I think, maybe having someone express to me, possibly using more than words, that he wants to spend his life with me might be kind of nice.

And his little dog, too...

Who else finds this absolutely offensive?

It's a portion of www.whitehouse.gov that is devoted to Barney, the dog. You may remember him from starring in such films as Where in the White House is Miss Beazley? (Barney Cam III, 2004), Barney has found Miss Beazley (2005), Barney's Holiday Extravaganza (Barney Cam V, 2006), and My Barney Valentine (2007).

Its a testament to how seriously this administration takes it's voters that taxpayer's money has been used to have this on the same site used to research foreign policy, defense, education, health care and any number of topics of much more importance.

This weekend

This weekend

I had an awesome weekend.

Friday:
I made my first whiskey sours, from scratch I might add. I shan't go into the details of the evening, sufficed to say a good time was had by all.

People should have good times more often.

Saturday:
Larke picked me up, we headed to Reno for the REK show, picking up Nik + Amy in Davis. I can't explain the singular enjoyment of a road trip. It doesn't matter the destination although a good one helps.

I got back yesterday evening, cleaned my room and did laundry while Ryan read me a Roal Dahl story.