Saturday, August 07, 2004
Friday, August 06, 2004
the moratorium i've declared on anything political over the next few weeks is harder than i expected. it's everywhere. all the sites on my favorites list are political: newspapers, public policy sites, political blogs...
i'm going through withdrawal and at each tiny glimpse i have of speeches, appearances, news, commercials, or rumors of the campaign my heart leaps and a little tingle hits my knees. (that's where my political jones is, apparently. my knees.)
i've also made the rude discovery that the GOP mail i've been studiously and stealthily destroying doesn't belong to my boss but to her husband.
i'm going through withdrawal and at each tiny glimpse i have of speeches, appearances, news, commercials, or rumors of the campaign my heart leaps and a little tingle hits my knees. (that's where my political jones is, apparently. my knees.)
i've also made the rude discovery that the GOP mail i've been studiously and stealthily destroying doesn't belong to my boss but to her husband.
Thursday, August 05, 2004
august minutiae
in the words of my friend K-- this should be the most ghetto, dangerous and chaotic olympics ever.
let us thank the technology god (teknos) for tivo.
oh, and ralph fiennes is voldemort. we are pleased.
and look, a new bushism:
i'm so glad he's my president.
let us thank the technology god (teknos) for tivo.
oh, and ralph fiennes is voldemort. we are pleased.
and look, a new bushism:
WASHINGTON Aug. 5, 2004 - President Bush offered up a new entry for his catalog of "Bushisms" on Thursday, declaring that his administration will "never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people."
Bush misspoke as he delivered a speech at the signing ceremony for a
$417 billion defense spending bill.
i'm so glad he's my president.
confirmed
it's official:
the Librarian will arrive the first weekend in sept and will stay for a long time - 5 days.
is 5 days long? that seems long to me. very long. but since he's driving, i guess, that's two days on the road and 3 days with me. A-- asked if he was cheap. he's not cheap - he's a librarian. (he purchased a car for the whopping price tag of $150, however. so he's thrifty. extremely thrifty.)
also official:
i'm not calling the Ex this weekend. i think i need some Me-time. some time where i don't have to suffer the deleterious effects of pot-phallus.
the Librarian will arrive the first weekend in sept and will stay for a long time - 5 days.
is 5 days long? that seems long to me. very long. but since he's driving, i guess, that's two days on the road and 3 days with me. A-- asked if he was cheap. he's not cheap - he's a librarian. (he purchased a car for the whopping price tag of $150, however. so he's thrifty. extremely thrifty.)
also official:
i'm not calling the Ex this weekend. i think i need some Me-time. some time where i don't have to suffer the deleterious effects of pot-phallus.
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
my friend H-- went to a screening of brown bunny and vincent gallo made a point of making googly eyes at her.
he's sort of creepy.
he's sort of creepy.
snort
CNN.com - Girl testifies Disney's Tigger molested her - Aug 3, 2004
key quote: "This defendant knew where his paws were..."
key quote: "This defendant knew where his paws were..."
give me books or give me death
so since i'm taking a break from politics (and boys can only take up so much time) i need books. books that have nothing to do with politics. books that can make me feel like i'm on vacation (even a very bad vacation.)
when i go to bookstores i just shuffle like a lady of bag. so i need book ideas. any. email me titles.
anything - poetry, history, literary theory (god that would be great), cookbooks, travel, fiction. i need to read or my head will melt.
...
current titles:
the polished hoe (colonialism and a murder in the caribbean)
the fencing master (intrigue and more fencing terms you could shake a foil at)
when i go to bookstores i just shuffle like a lady of bag. so i need book ideas. any. email me titles.
anything - poetry, history, literary theory (god that would be great), cookbooks, travel, fiction. i need to read or my head will melt.
...
current titles:
the polished hoe (colonialism and a murder in the caribbean)
the fencing master (intrigue and more fencing terms you could shake a foil at)
comic obssession
THE HIGH HAT | MARGINALIA: Powers
a wordy piece on bendis' powers series. (thanks, bookslut.)
but the last book of volume 1 is coming out soon and i can't wait (totally tired of trying to track down vol 1: 27, 30).
a wordy piece on bendis' powers series. (thanks, bookslut.)
but the last book of volume 1 is coming out soon and i can't wait (totally tired of trying to track down vol 1: 27, 30).
the convention has exhausted me so i'm taking a couple weeks off from even paying attention to political news. my outrage-meter stays in the red so, for the health of everyone involved, i'm ignoring the president, the candidates and the awful news from iraq.
instead, i'm concentrating on boys. politics/boys: i think it's a fair trade.
...
saw the village over the weekend and i think i'm the only person who liked it. everyone's caught up in the 'i figured it out' contest that i think they miss the point. a movie isn't a puzzle. it's not a game of clue. a good movie is supposed to be about narrative - about story, not tricks.
it's a good story. is it the most complex story? no. is it a timeless story? no - it's a fable, people. it's robinson crusoe or any dystopic tale. the marketing of the movie harmed it, i think. it set up expectations of a horror fest that's not there. the structure could have been better. it peaked too soon and so the rest of the film you sort of feel cheated. as for the trick, or the twist - i think it's a victim of the structure of the movie. the reveal could have been more powerful if it had been staved off.
but i liked the story. the story's moral center is a little wobbly but the whole thing was rather clever and sweet. it's a familiar story, but it's a hell of a lot more intelligent than Bourne Supremacy (which doesn't even resemble the book in the slightest.)
instead, i'm concentrating on boys. politics/boys: i think it's a fair trade.
...
saw the village over the weekend and i think i'm the only person who liked it. everyone's caught up in the 'i figured it out' contest that i think they miss the point. a movie isn't a puzzle. it's not a game of clue. a good movie is supposed to be about narrative - about story, not tricks.
it's a good story. is it the most complex story? no. is it a timeless story? no - it's a fable, people. it's robinson crusoe or any dystopic tale. the marketing of the movie harmed it, i think. it set up expectations of a horror fest that's not there. the structure could have been better. it peaked too soon and so the rest of the film you sort of feel cheated. as for the trick, or the twist - i think it's a victim of the structure of the movie. the reveal could have been more powerful if it had been staved off.
but i liked the story. the story's moral center is a little wobbly but the whole thing was rather clever and sweet. it's a familiar story, but it's a hell of a lot more intelligent than Bourne Supremacy (which doesn't even resemble the book in the slightest.)
Monday, August 02, 2004
Thursday, July 29, 2004
slooooow at the office.
the summer is almost over - just one more real month left and i didn't have as much fun this summer as past summers. the lack of fun in my life is starting to worry me. it's like i've turned into the most boring woman on earth.
this is my typical day:
6 am - alarm goes off
6.30 am - alarm goes off again; get up and dress for the gym
7-8 am - dress for work; watch the news, listen to npr; take a vitamin
8.45 am - at office...drink fruit smoothie, drink coffee, check email, read papers
9-5.30 pm - work (yawn)
6-10ish - meet A-- at local bar, toss back a few; catch cable; read; smoke; wonder why i'm not partying my ass off
(on weekends, i skip right to local bar, tossing the few and then add a few movies and shopping)
i'm turning into a girly hermit and i don't like it.
the summer is almost over - just one more real month left and i didn't have as much fun this summer as past summers. the lack of fun in my life is starting to worry me. it's like i've turned into the most boring woman on earth.
this is my typical day:
6 am - alarm goes off
6.30 am - alarm goes off again; get up and dress for the gym
7-8 am - dress for work; watch the news, listen to npr; take a vitamin
8.45 am - at office...drink fruit smoothie, drink coffee, check email, read papers
9-5.30 pm - work (yawn)
6-10ish - meet A-- at local bar, toss back a few; catch cable; read; smoke; wonder why i'm not partying my ass off
(on weekends, i skip right to local bar, tossing the few and then add a few movies and shopping)
i'm turning into a girly hermit and i don't like it.
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
and another thing...
the desire to acquire barak obama as their ideological son also shows how incredibly ignorant conservatives are of african american intellectual history.
there isn't one thing obama said last night that wasn't said first by W.E.B. DuBois (or Ida B. Wells, Langston Hughes, or even Henry Louis Gates, Jr.).
there isn't one thing obama said last night that wasn't said first by W.E.B. DuBois (or Ida B. Wells, Langston Hughes, or even Henry Louis Gates, Jr.).
obama
last night barak obama (illinois st. senator running for senate) gave the keynote at the dnc convention. i watched it at home with A-- on msnbc (my roommate loves chris matthews; i don't know why).
it was wonderful - that is, until the pundits got to it. their main complaint: that he gave a speech full of conservative ideas. that self-reliance, responsibility, a good work ethic, faith and hope are all conservative ideals.
i think republicans are out of step with democrats. the old picture they've painted of democrats is far more suitable for the 60s or 70s than now. in particular, i look at my peers and we've never quite fit with this old picture of 60s liberalism. we appreciate the theater of it (as theater), but the real power is in policy and who it affects. while we may be supportive of those conservative targets (affirmative action, welfare, multi-culturalism) we recognize the nuances and limitations of these ideas and practices.
for instance, wouldn't affirmative action achieve its goals better if it focused on class, rather than ethnicity? isn't educational access really about who can afford it? and if my african american community is afraid to release our grip on affirmative action because we're afraid of losing that privilege, i think we need to look beyond our skin color and realize that so many of our issues are at the intersection of race and class. we need to realize that our interests lie in the empowerment of our urban poor, our rural poor, our working brothers and sisters whatever their color.
the conservative insistence that only conservatives can talk about faith, equality, responsibility and hope exposes the conservative's inability to take on complexity, which is itself an inherent conservative characteristic. they are talented at narrowing a discourse to a few signifiers, but complicate them, add color to those floating signs, and they get lost in the tall grass. suddenly, their discourse becomes petulant - 'we said that first!'
actually, they haven't. progressives have always expressed deep faith - but they've also realized that government is not in the business of imposing it on the majority. progressives have always espoused self-reliance - but they've also realized that government is also responsible for the basic needs of its citizenry. progressives have always believed in responsibility - but they've also thought that responsibility belongs to everyone, especially those in power. progressives have always fought for equality - but equality in the interest of those on the margin, not those already enjoying the fruits of privilege.
obama's performance was thrilling, moving and strategic in laying out how this party is the embodiment of traditional american values. best of all it put conservatives on the defensive, forcing an attempt to co-opt our language (and even our candidate)in order to blur the real differences between democrats and republicans.
it was wonderful - that is, until the pundits got to it. their main complaint: that he gave a speech full of conservative ideas. that self-reliance, responsibility, a good work ethic, faith and hope are all conservative ideals.
i think republicans are out of step with democrats. the old picture they've painted of democrats is far more suitable for the 60s or 70s than now. in particular, i look at my peers and we've never quite fit with this old picture of 60s liberalism. we appreciate the theater of it (as theater), but the real power is in policy and who it affects. while we may be supportive of those conservative targets (affirmative action, welfare, multi-culturalism) we recognize the nuances and limitations of these ideas and practices.
for instance, wouldn't affirmative action achieve its goals better if it focused on class, rather than ethnicity? isn't educational access really about who can afford it? and if my african american community is afraid to release our grip on affirmative action because we're afraid of losing that privilege, i think we need to look beyond our skin color and realize that so many of our issues are at the intersection of race and class. we need to realize that our interests lie in the empowerment of our urban poor, our rural poor, our working brothers and sisters whatever their color.
the conservative insistence that only conservatives can talk about faith, equality, responsibility and hope exposes the conservative's inability to take on complexity, which is itself an inherent conservative characteristic. they are talented at narrowing a discourse to a few signifiers, but complicate them, add color to those floating signs, and they get lost in the tall grass. suddenly, their discourse becomes petulant - 'we said that first!'
actually, they haven't. progressives have always expressed deep faith - but they've also realized that government is not in the business of imposing it on the majority. progressives have always espoused self-reliance - but they've also realized that government is also responsible for the basic needs of its citizenry. progressives have always believed in responsibility - but they've also thought that responsibility belongs to everyone, especially those in power. progressives have always fought for equality - but equality in the interest of those on the margin, not those already enjoying the fruits of privilege.
obama's performance was thrilling, moving and strategic in laying out how this party is the embodiment of traditional american values. best of all it put conservatives on the defensive, forcing an attempt to co-opt our language (and even our candidate)in order to blur the real differences between democrats and republicans.
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
these are the new comics in my life:
The Losers
The Establishment
i've become disillusioned with my x-men, who all need to take a welbutrin and a vacation - or get laid. and while the green arrow makes me laugh, he only comes out every couple of months...it's too slow for my greedy little hands!! as for bendis' powers...well, i can't find #30 (the one where deena quits) and the new #1 (where powers are outlawed). i am despondent and tired of calling all the comic book shops in town like a junky, and all the comic book guys think i'm someone's mother.
grr.
the other day, A-- was looking for a place for us to put all our comic books; we decided to just keep them on the bookshelf, hidden away, for to display them in our princess turret would be to expose our total dorkiness.
it would be one short step to sealing them in plastic covers and developing an opaque filing system for their order.
The Losers
The Establishment
i've become disillusioned with my x-men, who all need to take a welbutrin and a vacation - or get laid. and while the green arrow makes me laugh, he only comes out every couple of months...it's too slow for my greedy little hands!! as for bendis' powers...well, i can't find #30 (the one where deena quits) and the new #1 (where powers are outlawed). i am despondent and tired of calling all the comic book shops in town like a junky, and all the comic book guys think i'm someone's mother.
grr.
the other day, A-- was looking for a place for us to put all our comic books; we decided to just keep them on the bookshelf, hidden away, for to display them in our princess turret would be to expose our total dorkiness.
it would be one short step to sealing them in plastic covers and developing an opaque filing system for their order.
shooting the b-b gun
after four years arguing with my dad about politics, it seems i can claim victory.
or, rather, bill clinton can. his speech, his tan and his suit absolutely wowed and seduced my dad.
hee. i win.
...
to M--. i'm sorry i've been so boring lately. i'll try and write more about exciting things happening to me...but it seems nothing exciting happens to me anymore.
i have to live vicariously through others now.
or, rather, bill clinton can. his speech, his tan and his suit absolutely wowed and seduced my dad.
hee. i win.
...
to M--. i'm sorry i've been so boring lately. i'll try and write more about exciting things happening to me...but it seems nothing exciting happens to me anymore.
i have to live vicariously through others now.
Monday, July 26, 2004
Claims vs. Facts Database - Center for American Progress
stumped for facts when debating a conservative?
here's where you can go.
stumped for facts when debating a conservative?
here's where you can go.
poker, redux
some things we learned:
next time we're only inviting one guy. too many guys and suddenly they force you to use REAL money! um, $5 is too much for a card game with a bunch of women. we have other uses for our money: cigs, a cup of coffee, a candy bar, anything other than watching someone take it because of a flip of a card.
all we wanted was a nice girly game of poker learning. instead we got a baptism by fire lesson in How to Lose Your Hard-Earned New Economy Cash in 10 Minutes. bummer. what's the fun in that??
the fun appeared at the last round of Texas Hold 'Em. after a whole night of conservative play, H-- (a supermodel-tall redhead) pronounced 'Red nines are wild, 4's are 8's (if you so choose) and straights can pass the ace and go to 2.' the men tried to mount a complaint but if you say that dealer picks the game, then dealer picks the game.
every guy lost their pants that round (they forgot that 4s were 8s) and G-- cleaned up nicely for the evening, stuffing $26 in her pocket. heh.
next time we're only inviting one guy. too many guys and suddenly they force you to use REAL money! um, $5 is too much for a card game with a bunch of women. we have other uses for our money: cigs, a cup of coffee, a candy bar, anything other than watching someone take it because of a flip of a card.
all we wanted was a nice girly game of poker learning. instead we got a baptism by fire lesson in How to Lose Your Hard-Earned New Economy Cash in 10 Minutes. bummer. what's the fun in that??
the fun appeared at the last round of Texas Hold 'Em. after a whole night of conservative play, H-- (a supermodel-tall redhead) pronounced 'Red nines are wild, 4's are 8's (if you so choose) and straights can pass the ace and go to 2.' the men tried to mount a complaint but if you say that dealer picks the game, then dealer picks the game.
every guy lost their pants that round (they forgot that 4s were 8s) and G-- cleaned up nicely for the evening, stuffing $26 in her pocket. heh.
poo and spelling
The New York Times > International > Sri Lanka Pushing Stationary Made of Dung
a few things:
1. spelling is important (stationary vs. stationery); the lede paragraph got it right, why couldn't the headline?
2. who knew? pres bush uses poo paper.
3. who knew, #2? you can make paper out of poo.
a few things:
1. spelling is important (stationary vs. stationery); the lede paragraph got it right, why couldn't the headline?
2. who knew? pres bush uses poo paper.
3. who knew, #2? you can make paper out of poo.
Thursday, July 22, 2004
it's not the heat...
my sister and her husband are in escrow on a house on the westside of l.a. i'm so excited for them; they will live a teeny walk away from the only dive bar in l.a. where you can smoke illegally. i know where i'm staying for thanksgiving.
we talked on the phone a couple of nights ago and she gushed about a vintage wedgewood stove that's included (for $1) in the asking price. my sister is the only woman i know who can ramble breathlessly about a cooking appliance.
(it is cute, however - very lucy ricardo.)
...
it's the heat AND humidity. ugh. humidity at 90% and it's 80 deg. yuck yuck yuck.
madame is back in the office having beat back the tears of grief and i have temporarily shelved the Worst Romance Novel (at least until she's caught up and i can sneak back to it again). besides, i seem to be stuck at why my heroine is being such a bitch. i think my inner life is seeping through. not that i'm feeling partici--whoops. hafta run.
we talked on the phone a couple of nights ago and she gushed about a vintage wedgewood stove that's included (for $1) in the asking price. my sister is the only woman i know who can ramble breathlessly about a cooking appliance.
(it is cute, however - very lucy ricardo.)
...
it's the heat AND humidity. ugh. humidity at 90% and it's 80 deg. yuck yuck yuck.
madame is back in the office having beat back the tears of grief and i have temporarily shelved the Worst Romance Novel (at least until she's caught up and i can sneak back to it again). besides, i seem to be stuck at why my heroine is being such a bitch. i think my inner life is seeping through. not that i'm feeling partici--whoops. hafta run.
pinoy correction:
uh, thanks JP.
The Spanish actually learned how to wave fans from pinoys, who learned it from the Chinese of course. We also gave them the parasol and the cockfight, among other things. I learned this in the museum at the Cortez Palace in Cuernavaca. The Mexicans have no reason to lie.
uh, thanks JP.
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
flashback
The Believer - In the Penthouse of the Ivory Tower
this is dedicated to those who fled the paranoid, clammy and infantilizing air of graduate lit programs everywhere.
an ode to the MLA.
this is dedicated to those who fled the paranoid, clammy and infantilizing air of graduate lit programs everywhere.
an ode to the MLA.
homeless? go online.
U.S. Department of Labor -- Find It! By Audience -- Homeless & Homeless Providers
so...if you're homeless and need help, you can find help online.
i see.
so...if you're homeless and need help, you can find help online.
i see.
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
leave the pinoys alone!
Saying 'Yes' To Terror
considering my ancestral brethren have been the colonial punching bag for the americans in the pacific for a hundred years (and let's not forget the previous 300 learning how to be spanish and wave a fan), i think my fellow filipinos have earned the right to do what they want with their teeny tiny military force...
(and don't you just love it when the west uses the word 'emasculated' to describe asian foreign policy?)
considering my ancestral brethren have been the colonial punching bag for the americans in the pacific for a hundred years (and let's not forget the previous 300 learning how to be spanish and wave a fan), i think my fellow filipinos have earned the right to do what they want with their teeny tiny military force...
(and don't you just love it when the west uses the word 'emasculated' to describe asian foreign policy?)
i have no life
sunday night i baked a cake. my roommate A-- was out of town and i was so bored i had to bake something. so i baked and frosted a cake. but that's not the point of this story.
later that night i watched the sci-fi channel documentary about m. night shamalama...you know. and it totally scared the crap out of me. i had to turn on every light in the apartment.
they rebroadcast it last night and i taped it. so very lame.
...
yesterday i put in a solid 7 hours of writing (another slow week at work, it seems) and the Worst Romance Novel Ever is rolling along steadily.
later that night i watched the sci-fi channel documentary about m. night shamalama...you know. and it totally scared the crap out of me. i had to turn on every light in the apartment.
they rebroadcast it last night and i taped it. so very lame.
...
yesterday i put in a solid 7 hours of writing (another slow week at work, it seems) and the Worst Romance Novel Ever is rolling along steadily.
Friday, July 16, 2004
yay!
just had word that a poem of mine has been accepted into an anthology! some pretty good university presses and independent presses are interested!
yay!
yay!
hair of the dog
it seemed tame enough: treat a coworker to cocktails and celebrate her new career and acceptance into a fantastic grad program. civilized, orderly, work-oriented.
then, 5 hours later and god knows how many glasses of jameson's, it turns into a karaoke free-for-all up north. i'm singing bette midler's 'the rose' at the front of a dive bar and military guys on leave with their girlfriends and our guy receptionist is vowing to give his right nut to save country music.
1 a.m. - passed out on the couch.
then, 5 hours later and god knows how many glasses of jameson's, it turns into a karaoke free-for-all up north. i'm singing bette midler's 'the rose' at the front of a dive bar and military guys on leave with their girlfriends and our guy receptionist is vowing to give his right nut to save country music.
1 a.m. - passed out on the couch.
Thursday, July 15, 2004
i have another blog called churchgal; it's where i put all the strange churchy stuff rolling around in my head. lately, it houses my anti-christian right rants. growing up in a fundamentalist house gives me a special weirded out insight into the mind of a fundie.
good people, most of them, just not the most complex.
i've been maintaining it for a little while, about 6 months, and just received my first comment. it was typical: a guy who threw loads of scripture at me as if that proved his point.
on the other hand, it was sort of exciting.
good people, most of them, just not the most complex.
i've been maintaining it for a little while, about 6 months, and just received my first comment. it was typical: a guy who threw loads of scripture at me as if that proved his point.
on the other hand, it was sort of exciting.
euww and outrage
there have been blogland rumors of this for a while; it's been reported in the european press (der spiegel) and the irc and unicef have released reports about children imprisoned in iraq without contact with family.
there was even a hint of this when the photos at abu ghraib first emerged and senators spoke of unmentionable crimes. well, now we know what these unmentionable crimes were.
there's nothing in our corporate press (other than hersh's reporting) to follow up on this story.
our silence is our shame.
there was even a hint of this when the photos at abu ghraib first emerged and senators spoke of unmentionable crimes. well, now we know what these unmentionable crimes were.
there's nothing in our corporate press (other than hersh's reporting) to follow up on this story.
our silence is our shame.
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
A-- will be basking in the fruits of napa valley this weekend at a wedding while i languish here. oh, i suppose there are things to do (buy a level, clean out my closets, wash laundry) but they're all so...boring. oh, but there's my really bad romance novel. it's been a week and the writing goes apace. it's awful, truly awful (who knew plotting could be so difficult?), but the goal is to finish. i'll worry about quality later.
i've demanded the Librarian call me more often; he agreed he's been neglectful. (have not dropped the hammer because i decided...well, i decided not to.) we've both circled labor day weekend as a target for a visit, thus leaving me time to visit family in los angeles.
boss's father still dead; awaiting further instructions. office is horribly quiet and subdued. am carrying huge office secret and i can't say anything and the weight is killing me. i've told A-- because the pressure became too much.
birthday party for A-- upcoming in august. still have no clue how to celebrate it.
fighting huge urge to pull out the book in my purse and read it at my desk.
i've demanded the Librarian call me more often; he agreed he's been neglectful. (have not dropped the hammer because i decided...well, i decided not to.) we've both circled labor day weekend as a target for a visit, thus leaving me time to visit family in los angeles.
boss's father still dead; awaiting further instructions. office is horribly quiet and subdued. am carrying huge office secret and i can't say anything and the weight is killing me. i've told A-- because the pressure became too much.
birthday party for A-- upcoming in august. still have no clue how to celebrate it.
fighting huge urge to pull out the book in my purse and read it at my desk.
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
downer
my boss's father died this morning.
i'm all out of sorts. it's too close to the anniversary of my mom's death. the office is subdued and i'm just all weepy. crazy.
i'm all out of sorts. it's too close to the anniversary of my mom's death. the office is subdued and i'm just all weepy. crazy.
Monday, July 12, 2004
heat
at last, summer is here.
in chez ding, our dsl still hasn't gone on (thanks sbc, you suckholes) so A-- and i have been living in digital ignorance. i came to the office early, after working out for the first time in a month, to catch up on the news. ugh - mistake. kerry has a lead, bush's friends are busy rewriting history and guarding his flank (how convenient that the pertinent records of his national guard record were destroyed - mysteriously), and now the repubs want to explore the possibility of postponing elections - in case anything happens, of course.
if i was reading this in a novel, i'd be feeling something called 'foreboding' just about now.
there is a man who wears a sandwich board on michigan avenue. he thinks al gore is a british robot sent here to invade and signal the re-assimilation of the united states into britain. actually, i think his message has changed since shrub took office. i feel like joining him sometimes - i want to wear a sandwich board and tell strangers how bush has screwed this country.
my outrage has been at such a constant high, i feel like my brain is boiling.
in chez ding, our dsl still hasn't gone on (thanks sbc, you suckholes) so A-- and i have been living in digital ignorance. i came to the office early, after working out for the first time in a month, to catch up on the news. ugh - mistake. kerry has a lead, bush's friends are busy rewriting history and guarding his flank (how convenient that the pertinent records of his national guard record were destroyed - mysteriously), and now the repubs want to explore the possibility of postponing elections - in case anything happens, of course.
if i was reading this in a novel, i'd be feeling something called 'foreboding' just about now.
there is a man who wears a sandwich board on michigan avenue. he thinks al gore is a british robot sent here to invade and signal the re-assimilation of the united states into britain. actually, i think his message has changed since shrub took office. i feel like joining him sometimes - i want to wear a sandwich board and tell strangers how bush has screwed this country.
my outrage has been at such a constant high, i feel like my brain is boiling.
Thursday, July 08, 2004
have just ordered pizza for the office and have spent the past three hours reading the newspaper. so depressing - even the edwards coverage isn't making me gleeful anymore. i think the light summer, the slow work day and the rather monastic lifestyle i've been maintaining these past 4 months have take a toll.
i'm writing a really bad romance novel. like, totally bad. horribly bad. but what else are you supposed to do with 8 hours just floatin' free? write!
all i know about what i'm writing so far is that it's about reality television - and feminism. (what ELSE am i supposed to watch on my new cable? it's sucking me in!)
what could be more romantic than reality tv and feminism?
i'm writing a really bad romance novel. like, totally bad. horribly bad. but what else are you supposed to do with 8 hours just floatin' free? write!
all i know about what i'm writing so far is that it's about reality television - and feminism. (what ELSE am i supposed to watch on my new cable? it's sucking me in!)
what could be more romantic than reality tv and feminism?
Tuesday, July 06, 2004
this is why i don't introduce my family to anyone i date:
talking to my dad yesterday morning i mention the Librarian may visit in august, which could prevent a visit to los angeles.
dad says, "bring him to LA!"
i say, "while you're in new york??"
he says, "no, while i'm there!"
my family home is not large. think cute little bungalow. little. extrememly little.
"uh, that's weird. no way." i say.
then, clearly suffering from mild dementia, dad launches into a fantasy he has of marrying me and the Librarian over breakfast - he calls it the Pancake Wedding. and then we can honeymoon there! at the little house in south central! in my dad's house! euww!
talking to my dad yesterday morning i mention the Librarian may visit in august, which could prevent a visit to los angeles.
dad says, "bring him to LA!"
i say, "while you're in new york??"
he says, "no, while i'm there!"
my family home is not large. think cute little bungalow. little. extrememly little.
"uh, that's weird. no way." i say.
then, clearly suffering from mild dementia, dad launches into a fantasy he has of marrying me and the Librarian over breakfast - he calls it the Pancake Wedding. and then we can honeymoon there! at the little house in south central! in my dad's house! euww!
freedom....blah
when did the 4th become such a crap holiday? i remember 4th of july weekends where i'd lay out on a blanket, my mouth smeared with barbecue sauce, my hands a little sticky from all the soda and sugar, my keds dusty from the volleyball game, and i'm on the blanket with my eyes closed, smelling the grill, hearing the water from the pool, the music (ok, christian music) from the cassette player someone brought and waiting for my belly to go down a little before getting up to play volleyball again. oh, the baked beans, the potato salad, the ribs, the chicken, the bread, the hot dogs, the hamburgers, the red kool aid, the fat church ladies, the skinny deacons, the los angeles sun above and the scratchy blanket below.
now? now it's driving an hour to find a hot dog, rained out baseball games (damn those Cubs) and cable tv. the ghetto fireworks were better than the show by the pier, the air conditioning was preferable to the humidity, the bucket of kfc was worth the slight tummy ache later and catching all the movies i wanted to see was luxurious - but the holiday sloth and gluttony was missing. maybe you need to have kids to have what it once was.
...
saw F9/11 yesterday in a packed theater in evanston. it was great. depressing, but great. and awful. yes, totally partisan, but a lot of stuff not covered by mainstream media (the film's biggest target, i think, rather than bush.) like, who knew it took special ops 2 months to get on the ground in afghanistan? i had the impression we were kicking ass from the get-go!
the movie made me cry and gave the woman sitting next to me a nervous breakdown. our news outlets should be ashamed of not showing us what we were/are doing over there. the film of our bombs, the old iraqi woman, the bodies (ours and theirs) burnt and blasted apart - it was only a tiny part of the film but it was almost too much. and our young young young soldiers, who have to cover the sound of what they're doing with music - it's all so sad. the sound of the planes hitting the towers (the screen was black - i couldn't have taken it if i had to see it again) made my skin pickle and my heart beat faster. and that woman, the secretary whose son died over there, bent over in front of the white house sobbing - god. it was awful.
bush is an asshat. if i was only a little bit angry at our administration, now i'm pissed. sad and pissed. our asshat of a president made us do things we never should have done.
also went to a cubs game at wrigley field. they played the sox (who, despite being #1, field balls like they were blind) and i wanted them to lose so badly. alas. the rain, the mud, the lightning, the sox sucky field talents all conspired to deprive me of my victory. i will NEVER go to a weekend cubs game again. i thought i merely disliked cubs fans and the people who live in near wrigley. no. i've decided that my dislike has hardened into an active low-level semi-hatred. no - that's too harsh. it's contempt. men who don't act their age - sitting in seats purchased by their companies, swilling beer, treating ballpark staff like crap - they're privileged, bloated asshats. (that's my new word of the day.)
eesh. i think i'm pms-ing.
now? now it's driving an hour to find a hot dog, rained out baseball games (damn those Cubs) and cable tv. the ghetto fireworks were better than the show by the pier, the air conditioning was preferable to the humidity, the bucket of kfc was worth the slight tummy ache later and catching all the movies i wanted to see was luxurious - but the holiday sloth and gluttony was missing. maybe you need to have kids to have what it once was.
...
saw F9/11 yesterday in a packed theater in evanston. it was great. depressing, but great. and awful. yes, totally partisan, but a lot of stuff not covered by mainstream media (the film's biggest target, i think, rather than bush.) like, who knew it took special ops 2 months to get on the ground in afghanistan? i had the impression we were kicking ass from the get-go!
the movie made me cry and gave the woman sitting next to me a nervous breakdown. our news outlets should be ashamed of not showing us what we were/are doing over there. the film of our bombs, the old iraqi woman, the bodies (ours and theirs) burnt and blasted apart - it was only a tiny part of the film but it was almost too much. and our young young young soldiers, who have to cover the sound of what they're doing with music - it's all so sad. the sound of the planes hitting the towers (the screen was black - i couldn't have taken it if i had to see it again) made my skin pickle and my heart beat faster. and that woman, the secretary whose son died over there, bent over in front of the white house sobbing - god. it was awful.
bush is an asshat. if i was only a little bit angry at our administration, now i'm pissed. sad and pissed. our asshat of a president made us do things we never should have done.
also went to a cubs game at wrigley field. they played the sox (who, despite being #1, field balls like they were blind) and i wanted them to lose so badly. alas. the rain, the mud, the lightning, the sox sucky field talents all conspired to deprive me of my victory. i will NEVER go to a weekend cubs game again. i thought i merely disliked cubs fans and the people who live in near wrigley. no. i've decided that my dislike has hardened into an active low-level semi-hatred. no - that's too harsh. it's contempt. men who don't act their age - sitting in seats purchased by their companies, swilling beer, treating ballpark staff like crap - they're privileged, bloated asshats. (that's my new word of the day.)
eesh. i think i'm pms-ing.
Friday, July 02, 2004
my dad, a christian pastor, and i have been involved in a war of words over the past two years because of george w bush. we've exchanged emails on gay rights, the environment and the war. he's always been conservative and patriotic and extremely cynical about politics, which makes him the perfect sounding board for Fox News.
when he returned from a christian men's retreat last weekend, my dad went to see Fahrenheit 9/11. this is what he emailed me (edited for spelling - my dad's not the best speller...):
my father still has the ability to stun me.
when he returned from a christian men's retreat last weekend, my dad went to see Fahrenheit 9/11. this is what he emailed me (edited for spelling - my dad's not the best speller...):
Good morning D--. I went to see the 10PM showing in a packed house. I enjoyed the film. It made me laugh and cry, especially the poor ladies who wept for their dead. The best parts were when Bush lost his mind in front of people. I would just hope that no one would ever film me in my more horrible hours of being alive. But I know, you want me to address the facts that the film represents; I can't.
After seeing the film, I do not like GWB. As a matter of fact I do not like Moore. The movie is tearing my world apart. It was a sick display of all that is bad in human beings. It will prompt me to not even look at Bush anymore. I am getting out of the political thing altogether. I feel so poorly for the American lady who lost her son. The faces of the young black males broke my heart, I do not want to see them die. My 'son' Timothy is in the Navy stationed with the Marines ready to be shipped out to that death land in August. I want no part of any of this shitty situation. Hey, I thought that I'd send you the so called Christian response to the film. I read this article on "beliefnet.com" and could not believe it. What do we do with the facts that faced us in the film?
Lord Jesus help us, did you remember the scene of the lady from Afghanistan was crying out to God for help? I feel that way right now. Lord help us, we are living in terrible times. I have mixed emotions about the film. It is good for a person like me, who was looking for something to totally get me out of the mix, and then it hinders the good people that believe in what this country ought to stand for, and then on the extreme end, it prompts violence in others; I did hear a few outbursts in the theater last night. [edited - what happened at the men's retreat and how crazy some men are, blah blah blah...]
Love you. . .Daddy
my father still has the ability to stun me.
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
will be going to ravinia tonight to catch lyle lovett. against my better judgment, i'm going to sit on the ground, submit myself to mosquitos and try not to be too critical of my girl friend's new boyfriend. salon had a hilarious article on the Unevenly Cool Couple - the couple wherein one person is unbelievably fabulous and her partner just makes you wince and think, Did he hypnotize her? Is he blackmailing her into going out with him? my friend is way cooler than her boyfriend.
it's not that he's awful. he's successful, well-traveled, dresses well, remembers names and is appropriately solicitous when we all meet for drinks. but there's this nagging sense of...him being an android, faking human life for the benefit of his girl. but he's not awful.
he's just...a pod person.
it's not that he's awful. he's successful, well-traveled, dresses well, remembers names and is appropriately solicitous when we all meet for drinks. but there's this nagging sense of...him being an android, faking human life for the benefit of his girl. but he's not awful.
he's just...a pod person.
ouch.
New York's Premier Alternative Newspaper. Arts, Music, Food, Movies and Opinion
my boss walked in unexpectedly. i suppose some work should get done...
my boss walked in unexpectedly. i suppose some work should get done...
Tuesday, June 29, 2004
Nader's "illegal" GOP backers
Salon.com | Nader's "illegal" GOP backers
According to Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington -- whose name sounds as if Nader could once have been its founder -- the Nader presidential campaign received illicit assistance for its petition drive in Oregon last weekend from two local conservative organizations, which were "encouraged" by President Bush's campaign committee.
Last election, a few friends voted for Nader said there was basically no difference between Gore and Bush. I guess the difference between Nader and Bush disappeared when Nader's campaign decided to get in bed with the wrong people.
According to Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington -- whose name sounds as if Nader could once have been its founder -- the Nader presidential campaign received illicit assistance for its petition drive in Oregon last weekend from two local conservative organizations, which were "encouraged" by President Bush's campaign committee.
Last election, a few friends voted for Nader said there was basically no difference between Gore and Bush. I guess the difference between Nader and Bush disappeared when Nader's campaign decided to get in bed with the wrong people.
Monday, June 28, 2004
we can build a fort with all the boxes stacked in the apartment.
but the apartment is taking shape and it's rather exciting. the whole place feels so different - more adult, somehow. our cable guy spent 4 hours at our place on friday (a cute little russian guy named bogdan who carried a photo of his girlfriend in his organizer) and our dsl is about to kick in at any moment. any moment... the floors are redone, the carpets are cleaned, i've feng shuied my bedroom, there's food in the fridge and we're marking space on the walls to hang the art. of course, we've come across more things the previous roommate left in the apartment. stumbling over her detritus is eroding any bland goodwill i may have had.
j-- and her boyfriend g-- stopped by on friday night to congratulate us and they brought wine, beer and pizza. the dining table was littered with cig butts and empty bottles all night. someone looking in our windows could have said we looked like a california wine commercial.
but the apartment is taking shape and it's rather exciting. the whole place feels so different - more adult, somehow. our cable guy spent 4 hours at our place on friday (a cute little russian guy named bogdan who carried a photo of his girlfriend in his organizer) and our dsl is about to kick in at any moment. any moment... the floors are redone, the carpets are cleaned, i've feng shuied my bedroom, there's food in the fridge and we're marking space on the walls to hang the art. of course, we've come across more things the previous roommate left in the apartment. stumbling over her detritus is eroding any bland goodwill i may have had.
j-- and her boyfriend g-- stopped by on friday night to congratulate us and they brought wine, beer and pizza. the dining table was littered with cig butts and empty bottles all night. someone looking in our windows could have said we looked like a california wine commercial.
Friday, June 25, 2004
the move...
is over. roomie #1 has been displaced, after months of silent treatment, sullen packing, and furtive disappearing of furniture. (and no, we still don't know for sure where she is living...though we suspect she's next door. she's like a rumored WMD.) roomie #2 has taken her place and we look forward to a period of creative energy, fabulous food and much wine (and gin, vodka and scotch.)
long live A--, roomie #2!
the movers saw my photo on the wall. they looked at it, they looked at me (just rolled out of bed, in yoga pants and a work out shirt, hair in a bun and glasses on my nose. not wearing deodorant.)
"that you?"
"yes."
"really?"
"uh, yeah."
they look at it. they look at me. it's a black and white face shot. nothing particularly special, except my skin looks really blemish-free.
"really, that's you? how long ago was that?" nice.
"maybe two or three years ago."
they not and trudge back down the stairs.
come on - it's early! i'm not showered!
give me a few hours and you can see me dressed for work!
long live A--, roomie #2!
the movers saw my photo on the wall. they looked at it, they looked at me (just rolled out of bed, in yoga pants and a work out shirt, hair in a bun and glasses on my nose. not wearing deodorant.)
"that you?"
"yes."
"really?"
"uh, yeah."
they look at it. they look at me. it's a black and white face shot. nothing particularly special, except my skin looks really blemish-free.
"really, that's you? how long ago was that?" nice.
"maybe two or three years ago."
they not and trudge back down the stairs.
come on - it's early! i'm not showered!
give me a few hours and you can see me dressed for work!
Thursday, June 24, 2004
Monday, June 21, 2004
logan's run: not so crazy
The New York Times > Opinion > Op-Ed Columnist: The Zelikow Report
i was going to make a snarky comment about logan's run and people being sacrificed to the state after a certain age and then draw a certain line to a certain old mouthpiece for the administration, but then i changed my mind. it's too mean.
i'll just chalk up his column to senility or cognitive dissonance. yeah.
i was going to make a snarky comment about logan's run and people being sacrificed to the state after a certain age and then draw a certain line to a certain old mouthpiece for the administration, but then i changed my mind. it's too mean.
i'll just chalk up his column to senility or cognitive dissonance. yeah.
panopticon
AlterNet: Get Ready for PATRIOT II
will this crap never ever end? i have to say that NEVER in my life has one administration ruined my mood so consistently and repeatedly.
what's next? loyalty oaths, wearing insignia declaring one's agreement with the gov't?
will this crap never ever end? i have to say that NEVER in my life has one administration ruined my mood so consistently and repeatedly.
what's next? loyalty oaths, wearing insignia declaring one's agreement with the gov't?
unbelievable - the moonies in congress
i may be progressive and anti-fundamentalist, but i'm not nuts. and i think this qualifies as nuts.
(you'll need a salon day pass to read it in full. however, the photo is enough.)
(you'll need a salon day pass to read it in full. however, the photo is enough.)
cognitive dissonance
Newsday.com - Opinion
it was a word we used a lot in grad school - mainly, to sneer at professors who didn't make sense, but whatever. it's good to see it in political discourse. heh. makes me laugh.
it was a word we used a lot in grad school - mainly, to sneer at professors who didn't make sense, but whatever. it's good to see it in political discourse. heh. makes me laugh.
Sunday, June 20, 2004
snort
The New York Times > Magazine > Band on the Couch
why this made me laugh, i don't know.
but i need to see this movie.
brilliant.
why this made me laugh, i don't know.
but i need to see this movie.
brilliant.
Mistakes Loom Large as Handover Nears (washingtonpost.com)
heh.
BAGHDAD -- The American occupation of Iraq will formally end this month having failed to fulfill many of its goals and stated promises intended to transform the country into a stable democracy, according to a detailed examination drawing upon interviews with senior U.S. and Iraqi officials and internal documents of the occupation authority.
failure, thy name is bush.
heh.
BAGHDAD -- The American occupation of Iraq will formally end this month having failed to fulfill many of its goals and stated promises intended to transform the country into a stable democracy, according to a detailed examination drawing upon interviews with senior U.S. and Iraqi officials and internal documents of the occupation authority.
failure, thy name is bush.
9/11 Panel's Findings Vault Bush Credibility To Campaign Forefront (washingtonpost.com)
you know, this 'link' between iraq and al-qaeda would die if the press would refuse to recognize shrub's delusions. keep asking the administration if the link exists, of course they'll say yes. ask a different question - like, where's their proof?? aagh.
you know, this 'link' between iraq and al-qaeda would die if the press would refuse to recognize shrub's delusions. keep asking the administration if the link exists, of course they'll say yes. ask a different question - like, where's their proof?? aagh.
Thursday, June 17, 2004
details details details
The New York Times > Opinion > Op-Ed Columnist: Not So Frivolous
it's a cheap shot, i know. but it can't be helped.
...
roommate at large is still moving out. piece by piece. i can't tell if she's halfway finished or not. there's still stuff here. our 'divorce' proceeds amicably, and she has indeed moved next door.
very wakefield-ian.
it's a cheap shot, i know. but it can't be helped.
...
roommate at large is still moving out. piece by piece. i can't tell if she's halfway finished or not. there's still stuff here. our 'divorce' proceeds amicably, and she has indeed moved next door.
very wakefield-ian.
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
The Black Bloc Vote
The New York Times > Opinion > Op-Ed Contributor: Bush Shouldn't Write Off the Black Vote
What?!
I’m stunned.
Though Cole ends his column by saying Bush has a lot to say to black voters, he only mentions one: school vouchers. That’s it? We’re supposed to vote for another four years of this administration because of vouchers? I guess we’re also supposed to forget about the failure called Leave No Child Behind and forget that the Bush administration has cut funding for the most popular educational program that actually helps our community – Head Start.
And while corporations record increases in profits and consumer confidence slowly rises, our communities have yet to see jobs return and economic opportunities present themselves. Our middle and working classes hardly saw their quality of life improve over the past four years and I don't think we’re looking for four more of the same.
Rather than concentrate on actual policies that speak to black interests, Cole writes instead of the vehicle for Bush’s heavily reactionary agenda – black churches. Considering the homophobic social agendas the religious right pushes, this appeal is nothing more than an attempt to campaign on wedge issues rather than real policies that affect black lives daily.
And again, instead of offering real solutions from the Bush administration, Cole says black folk should be happy to vote for Bush because he hires other black folk—as if hiring practices can substitute for ideas. Are black people supposed to be this easily fooled? Is he serious?
Unless George W. Bush suddenly turns into someone else entirely, unless he says that he was wrong about everything (which he is), there is nothing he can say to independent black voters to win their votes that won’t smack of pandering.
His policies, both foreign and domestic, lack meaning and efficacy for everyone – black, brown, tannish, pink-like or white.
What?!
I’m stunned.
Though Cole ends his column by saying Bush has a lot to say to black voters, he only mentions one: school vouchers. That’s it? We’re supposed to vote for another four years of this administration because of vouchers? I guess we’re also supposed to forget about the failure called Leave No Child Behind and forget that the Bush administration has cut funding for the most popular educational program that actually helps our community – Head Start.
And while corporations record increases in profits and consumer confidence slowly rises, our communities have yet to see jobs return and economic opportunities present themselves. Our middle and working classes hardly saw their quality of life improve over the past four years and I don't think we’re looking for four more of the same.
Rather than concentrate on actual policies that speak to black interests, Cole writes instead of the vehicle for Bush’s heavily reactionary agenda – black churches. Considering the homophobic social agendas the religious right pushes, this appeal is nothing more than an attempt to campaign on wedge issues rather than real policies that affect black lives daily.
And again, instead of offering real solutions from the Bush administration, Cole says black folk should be happy to vote for Bush because he hires other black folk—as if hiring practices can substitute for ideas. Are black people supposed to be this easily fooled? Is he serious?
Unless George W. Bush suddenly turns into someone else entirely, unless he says that he was wrong about everything (which he is), there is nothing he can say to independent black voters to win their votes that won’t smack of pandering.
His policies, both foreign and domestic, lack meaning and efficacy for everyone – black, brown, tannish, pink-like or white.
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
The New York Times > Opinion > Op-Ed Columnist: Travesty of Justice
and, in an example of how brainy people apply critical thinking skills, here's krugman. i love him. he's cranky, probably dresses poorly, and wields statistics and facts like a truncheon.
and, in an example of how brainy people apply critical thinking skills, here's krugman. i love him. he's cranky, probably dresses poorly, and wields statistics and facts like a truncheon.
The New York Times > Opinion > Op-Ed Columnist: Bitter at the Top
i was going to write brooks another of my 'you make my head pop off' letters, but i'm just too tired. so...the current political bifurcation of the country is the fault of the educated classes? not the actual fucked up policies of this adminstration? it's just the intellectual wrangling of people too dilettantish to deal with real life.
give me a break.
i was going to write brooks another of my 'you make my head pop off' letters, but i'm just too tired. so...the current political bifurcation of the country is the fault of the educated classes? not the actual fucked up policies of this adminstration? it's just the intellectual wrangling of people too dilettantish to deal with real life.
give me a break.
Monday, June 14, 2004
a little local fascism
This is how it starts: just a few nutjobs harrassing and assaulting people with dissenting views. It's sick. A SF gallery owner was assaulted when she displayed an anti-war painting in her gallery. Now, she's shut down and other gallery owners are being threatened - in San Francisco.
The blogger, Orcinus, has more.
The blogger, Orcinus, has more.
V. Media Credibility Declines: News Audiences Increasingly Politicized
as exciting as rush limbaugh's third divorce is, i think this is much better reading. there is another poll out there that also looks at media credibility rates - like, which media outlets have a better factual record. i think that Faux News had one of the lowest, but I'll have to find it. paired together, they may explain why my conversations with conservatives make my head explode.
they overwhelmingly believe Fox News and distrust (almost to the point of paranoia) most other print and internet sources - despite the fact that Fox News gets the story right only half the time.
as exciting as rush limbaugh's third divorce is, i think this is much better reading. there is another poll out there that also looks at media credibility rates - like, which media outlets have a better factual record. i think that Faux News had one of the lowest, but I'll have to find it. paired together, they may explain why my conversations with conservatives make my head explode.
they overwhelmingly believe Fox News and distrust (almost to the point of paranoia) most other print and internet sources - despite the fact that Fox News gets the story right only half the time.
Friday, June 11, 2004
late to work
My first political allegory dream:
It’s a beautiful, sunny Saturday late morning in Los Angeles. The grass has been watered, the weeds pulled and Ali and I share my father’s house. We’re standing on our porch smoking and chatting with the married couple who live next door. They’re blonde and qentle. I’m holding a clutch of flowers and am about to go inside to put them in water when a young guy, about 25 or so, ambles up. He’s in a yellow shirt, khakis and you can see that he wears short sleeve t-shirts under his buttoned-down shirt.
I think he’s a Mormon and I try to hustle Ali inside so we don’t get stuck talking about Moroni or something stupid like that. He has wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and glasses. A surprisingly dark growth of stubble and it’s only 11 am or so. The next door neighbors also think he’s a Jehovah’s witness or something. The nosy old lady on the other side of us calls out, “He’s one of those young kids from the Republican Party. They’re going door to door. He wants to give you a Republican sticker.”
Ali says, “Dammit, I wish we had a Republican sticker. Then he’d leave us alone.” We both look at our John Kerry sticker on our porch post. Our Vote John Kerry sign on the lawn. We’re doomed. But we hope that his youth will let him be easily intimidated and he’ll go away.
He catches us just as we’re about to go inside. He walks across the lawn to us between the two houses and just stands there, smiling up at us, slightly squinting, his shirt a little wrinkled. He’s a little soft around the middle. He looks like he’s been walking a lot. Our neighbors wait on their side of the lawn.
Ali looks down. “We’re Democrats, you know.”
“Yeah, I probably got that.”
“Whatever you say, it’s not going to work.”
He looks around. “Well, a sticker’s gotta start somewhere. All you need is just one.”
Ali snorts. “Good to know you have low expectations.”
But he just laughs and stands there, his hands in his pockets. Green chili peppers start to bloom out of my flowers as I’m looking at him. Ali starts talking about how Republicans are weeds in the garden of democracy and how it’s the Democrats job to do it. To demonstrate, she plucks the peppers from my bouquet and starts flinging them at his feet. They spread and lay down a chili carpet on the front lawn that’s not so bad looking. Our neighbor looks across and sighs, “Oh, Ali, you’re so good with plants. I wish my lawn would do that.”
But the young Republican just stands there smiling. He’s not moving. Ali growls and stomps off to the side of the house and back into the backyard. We’re actually about to have a barbecue and are expecting people – some friends, some from work. You know. People. The neighbors think the show is over and go back inside. I’m still on the porch frowning down at the young Republican.
“Aren’t you going now?”
He says, “Is she mad at me? Should I apologize? I think I should apologize.”
“Uh, we’re having people over and I don’t think you should--“
But he walks down the driveway toward the backyard. I can hear Ali laughing with some people already out there. He’s going to make her freak out. So I scramble off the porch and run down the long driveway and skid to stop in front of him. I lean against the fence and smile and say, “You wanna know why we’re not republicans here? It’s not the fiscal responsibility thing; I think that’s ok. It’s the social stuff. I look at the Republican Party now and see a mean white man who hates everyone. I actually grew up a conservative. I was Baptist. Southern Baptist. So I know how you conservatives think.”
He protested, “But that’s not really who we are.”
I shrug, “Yes it is. You guys are mean and small-minded and remind me of the angry white guy who was our pastor who told me I couldn’t wear lipstick. I was fifteen! That’s all fifteen year old girls do!”
“And if I told you that the party had changed, that we’re different now?”
“Then what would be the point? I’m already a Democrat.”
By this time, we’ve wandered into the backyard. It’s large and green and there’s a cool little white tent in the back of the lawn, where a small group of friends sit drinking beer and laughing. Ali sees us and stomps over.
“Ding, what the fuck?”
“He just followed me! I can’t shake him!”
He says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I wanted to apologize and then we were just talking and now we’re here and I totally understand if you want me to go – “
Ali snorts. “Yeah!”
He continues, “But if I could just give you the Republican blessing. Then I’ll go.”
Ali and I look at each other. We’ve never heard of a Republican blessing. What new-fangled election stealing trick is this? I can see that Ali is curious as all get out. She wants to see the Republican blessing so that she can totally make fun of it and spread it around. So she says, “Well, we don’t want to be rude.”
The three of us are standing in the early afternoon sunlight of Los Angeles so everything takes on a tangerine glow. There’s a faint sheen of sweat on his upper lip. This boy comes from a cold climate if he thinks this is hot, I’m thinking. He’s squinting at me, he’s squinting at Ali. He’s awfully still, like a squirrel who thinks he’s hiding in the middle of an open lawn.
Then, he lunges across, grabs me by my shoulders and totally kisses me! I’m beating my arms against his chest, his arms, his chest, his neck, and he has me sort of twisted around. I can hear Ali totally guffawing in the background. When he lets me go, I smack him hard across the chest.
“What the fuck was that?? THAT”S the Republican blessing?”
And Ali is laughing her ass off. “Oh my god, oh my god, that was hilarious. He was totally eating your face. And you were squeaking!”
He’s looking all weird, then he’s like, “I gotta sit down.” Ali grabs me and takes me to the tent where everyone is sitting, also laughing their asses off. She’s totally like, “That was so funny!” and I’m like, “That was awful, I was kissed by a Republican!”
Ali says, “Oh, you know you liked it. You were into it.”
I say, “Ok he’s a good kisser, a really good kisser, but that was totally inappropriate. He has to leave – he’s nuts.” Then Andy, a coworker, winks across the table at me. I can’t really hear what he’s saying because the young Republican is coming up to the tent looking abashed yet determined. He creeps up behind Ali and puts both arms around her, pressing his cheek to her back.
She jumps. “Whoa, mister!”
“Everyone needs a blessing!”
Everyone scatters. It’s just me and him in the tent, warily circling the table. I try and fake him out, he blocks me. I try again. He blocks again. And now he’s chasing me around the table. “I have to give you the blessing,” he says.
“What is your deal?” I say.
“I have to give you the blessing!” He lunges across the table, knocks it down and I skip out of reach.
We’re running, we’re chasing, we’re out of the tent, I swerve onto the lawn (my father’s backyard has never accommodated a footrace before) and Andy starts giving a running commentary on the race: “the young Republican hangs in her left blind spot, just tracking her while Ding, faster than we thought possible, has trouble scaling the little garden wall…” Oh, it’s all so funny, isn’t it? But I’m running out of steam. I can’t keep running in little circles like this. And so I slow down, he leaps at my legs, I trip, I fall and he’s on me. It’s like gradeschool. The boy on top trying to kiss the girl on the bottom and she’s twisting away, kicking her feet up and down. And ok, it could also be like rape, but it wasn’t that dark. It was just annoying to have the kissing Republican wrestle me down in my own backyard.
It’s a beautiful, sunny Saturday late morning in Los Angeles. The grass has been watered, the weeds pulled and Ali and I share my father’s house. We’re standing on our porch smoking and chatting with the married couple who live next door. They’re blonde and qentle. I’m holding a clutch of flowers and am about to go inside to put them in water when a young guy, about 25 or so, ambles up. He’s in a yellow shirt, khakis and you can see that he wears short sleeve t-shirts under his buttoned-down shirt.
I think he’s a Mormon and I try to hustle Ali inside so we don’t get stuck talking about Moroni or something stupid like that. He has wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and glasses. A surprisingly dark growth of stubble and it’s only 11 am or so. The next door neighbors also think he’s a Jehovah’s witness or something. The nosy old lady on the other side of us calls out, “He’s one of those young kids from the Republican Party. They’re going door to door. He wants to give you a Republican sticker.”
Ali says, “Dammit, I wish we had a Republican sticker. Then he’d leave us alone.” We both look at our John Kerry sticker on our porch post. Our Vote John Kerry sign on the lawn. We’re doomed. But we hope that his youth will let him be easily intimidated and he’ll go away.
He catches us just as we’re about to go inside. He walks across the lawn to us between the two houses and just stands there, smiling up at us, slightly squinting, his shirt a little wrinkled. He’s a little soft around the middle. He looks like he’s been walking a lot. Our neighbors wait on their side of the lawn.
Ali looks down. “We’re Democrats, you know.”
“Yeah, I probably got that.”
“Whatever you say, it’s not going to work.”
He looks around. “Well, a sticker’s gotta start somewhere. All you need is just one.”
Ali snorts. “Good to know you have low expectations.”
But he just laughs and stands there, his hands in his pockets. Green chili peppers start to bloom out of my flowers as I’m looking at him. Ali starts talking about how Republicans are weeds in the garden of democracy and how it’s the Democrats job to do it. To demonstrate, she plucks the peppers from my bouquet and starts flinging them at his feet. They spread and lay down a chili carpet on the front lawn that’s not so bad looking. Our neighbor looks across and sighs, “Oh, Ali, you’re so good with plants. I wish my lawn would do that.”
But the young Republican just stands there smiling. He’s not moving. Ali growls and stomps off to the side of the house and back into the backyard. We’re actually about to have a barbecue and are expecting people – some friends, some from work. You know. People. The neighbors think the show is over and go back inside. I’m still on the porch frowning down at the young Republican.
“Aren’t you going now?”
He says, “Is she mad at me? Should I apologize? I think I should apologize.”
“Uh, we’re having people over and I don’t think you should--“
But he walks down the driveway toward the backyard. I can hear Ali laughing with some people already out there. He’s going to make her freak out. So I scramble off the porch and run down the long driveway and skid to stop in front of him. I lean against the fence and smile and say, “You wanna know why we’re not republicans here? It’s not the fiscal responsibility thing; I think that’s ok. It’s the social stuff. I look at the Republican Party now and see a mean white man who hates everyone. I actually grew up a conservative. I was Baptist. Southern Baptist. So I know how you conservatives think.”
He protested, “But that’s not really who we are.”
I shrug, “Yes it is. You guys are mean and small-minded and remind me of the angry white guy who was our pastor who told me I couldn’t wear lipstick. I was fifteen! That’s all fifteen year old girls do!”
“And if I told you that the party had changed, that we’re different now?”
“Then what would be the point? I’m already a Democrat.”
By this time, we’ve wandered into the backyard. It’s large and green and there’s a cool little white tent in the back of the lawn, where a small group of friends sit drinking beer and laughing. Ali sees us and stomps over.
“Ding, what the fuck?”
“He just followed me! I can’t shake him!”
He says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I wanted to apologize and then we were just talking and now we’re here and I totally understand if you want me to go – “
Ali snorts. “Yeah!”
He continues, “But if I could just give you the Republican blessing. Then I’ll go.”
Ali and I look at each other. We’ve never heard of a Republican blessing. What new-fangled election stealing trick is this? I can see that Ali is curious as all get out. She wants to see the Republican blessing so that she can totally make fun of it and spread it around. So she says, “Well, we don’t want to be rude.”
The three of us are standing in the early afternoon sunlight of Los Angeles so everything takes on a tangerine glow. There’s a faint sheen of sweat on his upper lip. This boy comes from a cold climate if he thinks this is hot, I’m thinking. He’s squinting at me, he’s squinting at Ali. He’s awfully still, like a squirrel who thinks he’s hiding in the middle of an open lawn.
Then, he lunges across, grabs me by my shoulders and totally kisses me! I’m beating my arms against his chest, his arms, his chest, his neck, and he has me sort of twisted around. I can hear Ali totally guffawing in the background. When he lets me go, I smack him hard across the chest.
“What the fuck was that?? THAT”S the Republican blessing?”
And Ali is laughing her ass off. “Oh my god, oh my god, that was hilarious. He was totally eating your face. And you were squeaking!”
He’s looking all weird, then he’s like, “I gotta sit down.” Ali grabs me and takes me to the tent where everyone is sitting, also laughing their asses off. She’s totally like, “That was so funny!” and I’m like, “That was awful, I was kissed by a Republican!”
Ali says, “Oh, you know you liked it. You were into it.”
I say, “Ok he’s a good kisser, a really good kisser, but that was totally inappropriate. He has to leave – he’s nuts.” Then Andy, a coworker, winks across the table at me. I can’t really hear what he’s saying because the young Republican is coming up to the tent looking abashed yet determined. He creeps up behind Ali and puts both arms around her, pressing his cheek to her back.
She jumps. “Whoa, mister!”
“Everyone needs a blessing!”
Everyone scatters. It’s just me and him in the tent, warily circling the table. I try and fake him out, he blocks me. I try again. He blocks again. And now he’s chasing me around the table. “I have to give you the blessing,” he says.
“What is your deal?” I say.
“I have to give you the blessing!” He lunges across the table, knocks it down and I skip out of reach.
We’re running, we’re chasing, we’re out of the tent, I swerve onto the lawn (my father’s backyard has never accommodated a footrace before) and Andy starts giving a running commentary on the race: “the young Republican hangs in her left blind spot, just tracking her while Ding, faster than we thought possible, has trouble scaling the little garden wall…” Oh, it’s all so funny, isn’t it? But I’m running out of steam. I can’t keep running in little circles like this. And so I slow down, he leaps at my legs, I trip, I fall and he’s on me. It’s like gradeschool. The boy on top trying to kiss the girl on the bottom and she’s twisting away, kicking her feet up and down. And ok, it could also be like rape, but it wasn’t that dark. It was just annoying to have the kissing Republican wrestle me down in my own backyard.
Thursday, June 10, 2004
it happens in threes
aw, man. ray charles is dead.
who'll sing 'america, the beautiful' on the 4th of july now?!
who'll sing 'america, the beautiful' on the 4th of july now?!
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
on principle
The Gadflyer: Not So Keene
am finding it hard to read the news today with anything more than a heavy sigh. despite smart little things like this, the awful possibility of Shrub winning another term looms large in the imagination. because we're cursed like that.
...
and the reagan things? they have to stop. i'm already tired of it. more mythmaking and hot air blowing.
am finding it hard to read the news today with anything more than a heavy sigh. despite smart little things like this, the awful possibility of Shrub winning another term looms large in the imagination. because we're cursed like that.
...
and the reagan things? they have to stop. i'm already tired of it. more mythmaking and hot air blowing.
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
roommate at large has surfaced. she is living next door to our apartment, though her stuff is still in this apartment. i can't help but think of wakefield, you know? (a few weeks ago on npr, paul auster read wakefield and i just wanted to curl up and sleep in his voice.)
my erstwhile roommate leads a double life, i'm sure. by day, she's the hot networking babe at an international banking giant. by night, she's a cia spy, or counter spy, or jewel thief, or car thief, or just a plain old neighborhood drunk who needs a secret apartment in which to tie one on. she skulks around the firecracker warehouse holding a bottle of jameson's and one night, if she's not careful, she'll drop a lit butt into a pile of sparklers and jimmy the clown's apartment will erupt in fiery light.
or, she smuggled her boyfriend back into the city; he's squatting in an abandoned apartment next door that's due for renovation, and she goes to be with him every night, taking him beer, cigarettes and crackers. when she leaves, she has to lock him in, like the guy from the pianist.
these are the ways i try and justify my roommate's weird behavior lately. any rational explanation wouldn't fit quite right.
my erstwhile roommate leads a double life, i'm sure. by day, she's the hot networking babe at an international banking giant. by night, she's a cia spy, or counter spy, or jewel thief, or car thief, or just a plain old neighborhood drunk who needs a secret apartment in which to tie one on. she skulks around the firecracker warehouse holding a bottle of jameson's and one night, if she's not careful, she'll drop a lit butt into a pile of sparklers and jimmy the clown's apartment will erupt in fiery light.
or, she smuggled her boyfriend back into the city; he's squatting in an abandoned apartment next door that's due for renovation, and she goes to be with him every night, taking him beer, cigarettes and crackers. when she leaves, she has to lock him in, like the guy from the pianist.
these are the ways i try and justify my roommate's weird behavior lately. any rational explanation wouldn't fit quite right.
Saturday, June 05, 2004
reagan
The New York Times > Obituaries > Reagan Had Long Struggle With Alzheimer's Disease
sort of sad. i was in elementary school when he was president, at least that's how i remember it. i suppose i could look up those dates right now, but i don't feel like it. what i remember most is that i didn't like him. not because i was, even then, a democrat. i didn't like that he had defeated jimmy carter.
jimmy carter was my favorite president ever, when i was a kid. (though not as handsome as pierce.) i had a dream once that he and i were having tea together. i laughed in my sleep, delighted that the president and i were so simpatico. my mother found me in bed laughing, holding my hand with my pinky crooked, as if holding a teacup.
and when reagan defeated him, i felt as if the universe had been destroyed. reagan was the man with weird black hair and a clown's face who had made a gentle-voiced man, who farmed a peanut (who can hate a peanut??), lose. and so, to me, based on a dream of tea with a president, reagan's two terms were hell.
irrational, but there you are.
it was the 80's. passions ran high.
sort of sad. i was in elementary school when he was president, at least that's how i remember it. i suppose i could look up those dates right now, but i don't feel like it. what i remember most is that i didn't like him. not because i was, even then, a democrat. i didn't like that he had defeated jimmy carter.
jimmy carter was my favorite president ever, when i was a kid. (though not as handsome as pierce.) i had a dream once that he and i were having tea together. i laughed in my sleep, delighted that the president and i were so simpatico. my mother found me in bed laughing, holding my hand with my pinky crooked, as if holding a teacup.
and when reagan defeated him, i felt as if the universe had been destroyed. reagan was the man with weird black hair and a clown's face who had made a gentle-voiced man, who farmed a peanut (who can hate a peanut??), lose. and so, to me, based on a dream of tea with a president, reagan's two terms were hell.
irrational, but there you are.
it was the 80's. passions ran high.
Friday, June 04, 2004
The New York Times > Washington > Cheney Reportedly Interviewed in Leak of C.I.A. Officer's Name
isn't this a little circular? president shrub's answer about retaining a personal lawyer in the plame affair:
"In terms of whether or not I need advice from my counsel, this is a criminal matter, it's a serious matter, I have met with an attorney to determine whether or not I need his advice. And if I deem I need his advice, I'll probably hire him."
isn't this a little circular? president shrub's answer about retaining a personal lawyer in the plame affair:
"In terms of whether or not I need advice from my counsel, this is a criminal matter, it's a serious matter, I have met with an attorney to determine whether or not I need his advice. And if I deem I need his advice, I'll probably hire him."
jon stewart...another love
COMEDY CENTRAL
so, if you weren't getting all your teeth ripped out yesterday, you probably noticed that our head cia guy resigned. (like, who couldn't see this coming when he stepped forward last summer and fell on his sword for the whole faulty intelligence thing?)
but who cares about all that - the daily show makes with the funny.
heh. hope the link works.
so, if you weren't getting all your teeth ripped out yesterday, you probably noticed that our head cia guy resigned. (like, who couldn't see this coming when he stepped forward last summer and fell on his sword for the whole faulty intelligence thing?)
but who cares about all that - the daily show makes with the funny.
heh. hope the link works.
The Gadflyer: Partial-Truth Abortion
The Gadflyer: Partial-Truth Abortion
on my soapbox, with the vicodin...
but it's a good read anyway. amy sullivan - she writes about stuff i wish more women read.
on my soapbox, with the vicodin...
but it's a good read anyway. amy sullivan - she writes about stuff i wish more women read.
hey, i'm working from home!
The Gadflyer: Fly Trap
gimme a break! all this time and i can't blog? no way!
anyway, this is a little morsel found on gadlyer; the capitol hill blue is an odd online washington paper. it's sort of nutjobby, but the fact that it totally called bush nuts the other day (or was it today?) and built a story around it made me laugh.
gimme a break! all this time and i can't blog? no way!
anyway, this is a little morsel found on gadlyer; the capitol hill blue is an odd online washington paper. it's sort of nutjobby, but the fact that it totally called bush nuts the other day (or was it today?) and built a story around it made me laugh.
Abriendo Caminos - yeah, right
Abriendo Caminos
so, to be fair, i didn't originally find this - thanks will have to go to the blogger Atrios/Eschaton. But it's basically the web page on the Bush campaign site that they're using to reach out to latino voters.
under 'soy' (I am), you have teacher, student, elderly, veteran/military employee and farmer. that's it. you're a farmer, teacher, student, vet or old person.
guess i better tell my brother in law that he apparently chose the wrong open path...
they really are dumb. like, really really dumb.
so, to be fair, i didn't originally find this - thanks will have to go to the blogger Atrios/Eschaton. But it's basically the web page on the Bush campaign site that they're using to reach out to latino voters.
under 'soy' (I am), you have teacher, student, elderly, veteran/military employee and farmer. that's it. you're a farmer, teacher, student, vet or old person.
guess i better tell my brother in law that he apparently chose the wrong open path...
they really are dumb. like, really really dumb.
Thursday, June 03, 2004
i'm a cheap dental date. one minute watching the IV drip, the dentist says "You should start feeling--" and that's it. i'm out. gone. under.
i come to missing four wisdom teeth, two new root canals and a nice warm heavy feeling all over. and i'm singing along with lionel richie with a gauze-packed mouth.
the next 24-48 hours: vicodin, antibiotics, warm yogurt and fashion magazines. how wholesome.
i come to missing four wisdom teeth, two new root canals and a nice warm heavy feeling all over. and i'm singing along with lionel richie with a gauze-packed mouth.
the next 24-48 hours: vicodin, antibiotics, warm yogurt and fashion magazines. how wholesome.
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
a few months ago i blogged about the past coming back - old lovers and past objects of desire suddenly announced themselves again, throwing me into a slight disequilibrium. then i felt the past was a fruitless complication that either needed to be ignored or neutralized. and, for the most part, this happened. i ignored one and the other...well, relocating to korea has a way of neutralizing any need for immediate action.
but this past sunday at the bridal shower, ryan the astrologer looked at my chart and noted several events ripping the fabric i've worked really hard (like, with gritted teeth) to smooth out in my life. work: smooth. friends: smooth. lover: long-distance, but smooth. everything has its place and every place has its thing. nice. i fluttered my hand at ryan, positive that these little whatevers were insignificant.
i said to ryan, 'yes, i'm about to have a drink with an ex, but that means nothing. it's one drink; we don't even particularly like each other. and okay, i have a date with an older philosophy professor, but that doesn't mean it's going to go anywhere. he's old! like, really old! and yes, so the librarian may be visiting in august - he's a horrible trip planner, it might not even happen! these are not ominous events - they're coincidences that will simply disappear without much help from me.'
ryan just pursed his lips and moved on to the next chart. i am a firm believer that things are instrinsically simple; they have a way of working out without much input from anyone. they only get complicated when you make them so.
but then, last night on the el platform, the dry cool wind whipping at my dress, the trains clattering past full of Cubs fans, the Ex (el Equis) asking if we could start from scratch after two years, the afternoon's email from the Professor bright in my mind, the possibility of the Librarian visiting never far from my thoughts, everything got very very complicated and muddled.
...
oh, and my roommate seems to have relocated to an undisclosed location, sort of like dick cheney. from her undiscovered hamlet she sends out emails and requests, but her exact whereabouts remain a mystery.
but this past sunday at the bridal shower, ryan the astrologer looked at my chart and noted several events ripping the fabric i've worked really hard (like, with gritted teeth) to smooth out in my life. work: smooth. friends: smooth. lover: long-distance, but smooth. everything has its place and every place has its thing. nice. i fluttered my hand at ryan, positive that these little whatevers were insignificant.
i said to ryan, 'yes, i'm about to have a drink with an ex, but that means nothing. it's one drink; we don't even particularly like each other. and okay, i have a date with an older philosophy professor, but that doesn't mean it's going to go anywhere. he's old! like, really old! and yes, so the librarian may be visiting in august - he's a horrible trip planner, it might not even happen! these are not ominous events - they're coincidences that will simply disappear without much help from me.'
ryan just pursed his lips and moved on to the next chart. i am a firm believer that things are instrinsically simple; they have a way of working out without much input from anyone. they only get complicated when you make them so.
but then, last night on the el platform, the dry cool wind whipping at my dress, the trains clattering past full of Cubs fans, the Ex (el Equis) asking if we could start from scratch after two years, the afternoon's email from the Professor bright in my mind, the possibility of the Librarian visiting never far from my thoughts, everything got very very complicated and muddled.
...
oh, and my roommate seems to have relocated to an undisclosed location, sort of like dick cheney. from her undiscovered hamlet she sends out emails and requests, but her exact whereabouts remain a mystery.
Thursday, May 27, 2004
ick
disclaimer: if girly topics make you squeamish, look away. it's a slow day at the office, i'm procrastinating about a conference in seattle, and i'm cramping. get over it.
i will be crabby and achy for 5-7 days. it's like the worst gas ever. like gas. it's not actually gas. and i just want to lean back in my chair, kick out my legs and put a hot water bottle on my belly and swivel back and forth. no midol. just hot water bottle and swiveling. (like being rocked to sleep.)
or, even better, stop holding in my stomach, let it all go and walk around chicago looking pregnant from all the water retention. yeah, waddle around chicago. niice.
i will be crabby and achy for 5-7 days. it's like the worst gas ever. like gas. it's not actually gas. and i just want to lean back in my chair, kick out my legs and put a hot water bottle on my belly and swivel back and forth. no midol. just hot water bottle and swiveling. (like being rocked to sleep.)
or, even better, stop holding in my stomach, let it all go and walk around chicago looking pregnant from all the water retention. yeah, waddle around chicago. niice.
The Gadflyer: Fly Trap
reaction from all over the place about the NYTime's lame-ass mea culpa. (the NYT reporter whose reporting was rather slipshod, Judith Miller's quote of the day in Salon is priceless. you'll need to get a free day pass.)
and now word the fbi is investigating a conservative think tank, making inquiries into who passed on classified info to chalabi.
those goopers and their willingness to traffic in top secret information...what do we call that? oh, yeah - espionage! ha ha ha!
reaction from all over the place about the NYTime's lame-ass mea culpa. (the NYT reporter whose reporting was rather slipshod, Judith Miller's quote of the day in Salon is priceless. you'll need to get a free day pass.)
and now word the fbi is investigating a conservative think tank, making inquiries into who passed on classified info to chalabi.
those goopers and their willingness to traffic in top secret information...what do we call that? oh, yeah - espionage! ha ha ha!
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
dKos 8
Daily Kos :: Political Analysis and other daily rants on the state of the nation.
this is the blog that has given me most, if not all, of my ammunition in my political skirmishes with my father, much to his chagrin. the writers for it are all unapologetic democrats, determined to win back the Senate from the GOP--and the White House - so if you like your rhetoric more centrist, well, this probably ain't for you. but check it out anyway. his blogroll is one of the most complete for progressive sites on the web: check out atrios and talkingpointsmemo (my personal faves.)
and i think the fundraising drive is a good effort. yeah, i know, throwing money at the DNC isn't the perfect answer, but do we have time to dicker about theory when the elections are a summer away? i'm sacrificing my netflix for a reason, dammit!
this is the blog that has given me most, if not all, of my ammunition in my political skirmishes with my father, much to his chagrin. the writers for it are all unapologetic democrats, determined to win back the Senate from the GOP--and the White House - so if you like your rhetoric more centrist, well, this probably ain't for you. but check it out anyway. his blogroll is one of the most complete for progressive sites on the web: check out atrios and talkingpointsmemo (my personal faves.)
and i think the fundraising drive is a good effort. yeah, i know, throwing money at the DNC isn't the perfect answer, but do we have time to dicker about theory when the elections are a summer away? i'm sacrificing my netflix for a reason, dammit!
hairy fairy and dork love
last night i sat in the basement room of garrett ripley's with 7 other presbyterian women who read the worst poetry known to man. sure, 'hairy fairy' by wolferama was my contribution, but that was meant to be funny!
a dying 12-yr old boy featured on oprah who writes about dandelions and being an autumn leaf? this ain't art. it took all of A--'s willpower to resist snatching that poem out of that woman's hand and making her eat it.
...
at the end of colonial house, A-- and i watched avidly for don wood, our favorite colonist. 3 months after the project, what was his life? where did he live? did he have a girlfriend? (a plane ticket is, what, $189??) and suddenly, there he was, wearing a parka and camo pants, walking his dog henry. in the background i spied an awning with a partial address - 55th 33--. in anguish i tried to remember what i saw of brooklyn when i was there years ago, but who am i kidding? i saw nothing except so&so's ceiling.
A-- said, the show's been over for ages. he has to have a girlfriend by now.
i said, we are the only single women watching this dorky show.
but the possibility of another dorky girl winning the love of the wood chopping/flea eating/profanity spewing/beer stealing colonist made me slightly sad.
then, a shot of don wood, sitting on a crate while petting his dog, in an apartment filled with other crates, bricks, a weird looking sofa and surrounded by paint-cracked walls. an old stereo tilted on a milk crate.
this man has no girlfriend, i said.
a dying 12-yr old boy featured on oprah who writes about dandelions and being an autumn leaf? this ain't art. it took all of A--'s willpower to resist snatching that poem out of that woman's hand and making her eat it.
...
at the end of colonial house, A-- and i watched avidly for don wood, our favorite colonist. 3 months after the project, what was his life? where did he live? did he have a girlfriend? (a plane ticket is, what, $189??) and suddenly, there he was, wearing a parka and camo pants, walking his dog henry. in the background i spied an awning with a partial address - 55th 33--. in anguish i tried to remember what i saw of brooklyn when i was there years ago, but who am i kidding? i saw nothing except so&so's ceiling.
A-- said, the show's been over for ages. he has to have a girlfriend by now.
i said, we are the only single women watching this dorky show.
but the possibility of another dorky girl winning the love of the wood chopping/flea eating/profanity spewing/beer stealing colonist made me slightly sad.
then, a shot of don wood, sitting on a crate while petting his dog, in an apartment filled with other crates, bricks, a weird looking sofa and surrounded by paint-cracked walls. an old stereo tilted on a milk crate.
this man has no girlfriend, i said.
Tuesday, May 25, 2004
Effing Brilliant
Exit Strategy - How to leave Iraq in three simple steps. By George?Saunders
Just read it for the last paragraph. I want to put it on a t-shirt.
(also to go on a t-shirt: "Anyone who wants to give you anal when you're sober does not love you." - Washingtonienne)
Just read it for the last paragraph. I want to put it on a t-shirt.
(also to go on a t-shirt: "Anyone who wants to give you anal when you're sober does not love you." - Washingtonienne)
why colonial house rocks
Dreams like this:
I'm a professor at the University of Texas and I have a crush on a tall guy with a beard (hello, Don Wood). He's a student or something and I'm totally stalking him. I cut classes early to watch him cut down trees in the middle of campus. I am whipping myself into a froth over him. When I get the nerve to ask him to lunch in the University of Texas cafeteria, I'm walking across the quad, mumbling to myself, ignoring the students running after me. He senses something is about to happen; he drops his axe and watches me as I walk toward him.
Just when I get a few feet away UP pops JAMES who's in a tizzy: "I'm totally nervous about moving to Albion, what am i gonna do, and you know what tomas says? blah blah blah blah!" The moment is past, Don goes back to his chopping, I have to console James--aggh! So we're in the cafeteria and I'm listening to James and I keep looking out the window at Don Wood. Sigh. Then here comes a tornado!! Trees uprooted, black skies, rain, tidal waves, the campus is flooding - oh, where is Don Wood?? James is sucked away by a funnel, the cafeteria is destroyed, but someone grabs me and we're running and running. Is it Don Wood? NO, it's Mr. VOORHEES! Even better!
We find a cave to protect us from the killer tornados. In his slow low voice he mourns the definite death of his wife and child; I mourn the definite end of my job and Don Wood (wrong time to wield an axe, dude) and in our mourning we turn to each other for some grief cuddling. (I must have been tired if cuddling was all that I could muster.)
The sounds of destruction fade away giving rise to hammering and sirens. The worst is over but we don't leave the cave - the death outside is too much! We're cuddling, we're cuddling, a shaft of light pierces the cave - it's not Mr. Voorhees - It's Mark - my boss's HUSBAND! Groosss! He's middle-aged and gray haired and pudgy and wearing pleated Dockers and he's kissing me with too much saliva and it's so horrific I can't stand it. I try and wake up but I CAN'T! He's whispering in my ear with that IT architect voice of his and my skin breaks out in skeevies.
I yank myself away and hurl myself out the cave, saying something about helping with the relief efforts. He takes my hand, helping me over all the debris. Oh, there's James on a stretcher. And there's DON WOOD! Apparently struck by flying pieces of statuary and masonry he was crushed. I am heartbroken. NOT-Voorhees tries to hug me and I run away, screaming.
This is how I wake up. (all that aside, PBS' Colonial House is fascinating. Dorky dorky fun.)
I'm a professor at the University of Texas and I have a crush on a tall guy with a beard (hello, Don Wood). He's a student or something and I'm totally stalking him. I cut classes early to watch him cut down trees in the middle of campus. I am whipping myself into a froth over him. When I get the nerve to ask him to lunch in the University of Texas cafeteria, I'm walking across the quad, mumbling to myself, ignoring the students running after me. He senses something is about to happen; he drops his axe and watches me as I walk toward him.
Just when I get a few feet away UP pops JAMES who's in a tizzy: "I'm totally nervous about moving to Albion, what am i gonna do, and you know what tomas says? blah blah blah blah!" The moment is past, Don goes back to his chopping, I have to console James--aggh! So we're in the cafeteria and I'm listening to James and I keep looking out the window at Don Wood. Sigh. Then here comes a tornado!! Trees uprooted, black skies, rain, tidal waves, the campus is flooding - oh, where is Don Wood?? James is sucked away by a funnel, the cafeteria is destroyed, but someone grabs me and we're running and running. Is it Don Wood? NO, it's Mr. VOORHEES! Even better!
We find a cave to protect us from the killer tornados. In his slow low voice he mourns the definite death of his wife and child; I mourn the definite end of my job and Don Wood (wrong time to wield an axe, dude) and in our mourning we turn to each other for some grief cuddling. (I must have been tired if cuddling was all that I could muster.)
The sounds of destruction fade away giving rise to hammering and sirens. The worst is over but we don't leave the cave - the death outside is too much! We're cuddling, we're cuddling, a shaft of light pierces the cave - it's not Mr. Voorhees - It's Mark - my boss's HUSBAND! Groosss! He's middle-aged and gray haired and pudgy and wearing pleated Dockers and he's kissing me with too much saliva and it's so horrific I can't stand it. I try and wake up but I CAN'T! He's whispering in my ear with that IT architect voice of his and my skin breaks out in skeevies.
I yank myself away and hurl myself out the cave, saying something about helping with the relief efforts. He takes my hand, helping me over all the debris. Oh, there's James on a stretcher. And there's DON WOOD! Apparently struck by flying pieces of statuary and masonry he was crushed. I am heartbroken. NOT-Voorhees tries to hug me and I run away, screaming.
This is how I wake up. (all that aside, PBS' Colonial House is fascinating. Dorky dorky fun.)
so i may have stepped over a line. i may have finally given my father an aneurism. but it's totally his fault. he asked me what i thought about mensnewsdaily.com (ugh.) and so i told him.
the site's not as bad as i thought it would be; it's not a slobbering at the mouth 'keep all women barefoot and pregnant' kind of thing. but it's ... weird. there's something about it that makes me go 'euww.'
it's sad. that's what it is. i can smirk at the blustery testosterone thing going on at Details, FHM and Maxim. Yeah, ok, they're gross but at least there's some humor there - sort of a broad wink. "Hey, look at me, I can grill, trade online, watch porn AND know the 5 Cs of diamond buying! Look - I shaved!"
but this site is just sad. and the fact my dad is reading it is even sadder! here is a group of guys looking at the world around them and they don't quite fit into it anymore- oh, they have some wacky idea that women are at fault at the new victimized status of men, but i'm not buying that. so it was the end of the day and i'm tired and cranky and suddenly some things come out about evolutionary changes and women adapting to cultural shifts better, blah blah blah, adapt or fall off, change or die, blah blah blah, pendulum swinging to the other side, human development, the New Man...public health policy, yak yak yada yada.
yeah. i totally pushed my dad over the edge.
feminism, evolution and the new man?? his head probably exploded.
the site's not as bad as i thought it would be; it's not a slobbering at the mouth 'keep all women barefoot and pregnant' kind of thing. but it's ... weird. there's something about it that makes me go 'euww.'
it's sad. that's what it is. i can smirk at the blustery testosterone thing going on at Details, FHM and Maxim. Yeah, ok, they're gross but at least there's some humor there - sort of a broad wink. "Hey, look at me, I can grill, trade online, watch porn AND know the 5 Cs of diamond buying! Look - I shaved!"
but this site is just sad. and the fact my dad is reading it is even sadder! here is a group of guys looking at the world around them and they don't quite fit into it anymore- oh, they have some wacky idea that women are at fault at the new victimized status of men, but i'm not buying that. so it was the end of the day and i'm tired and cranky and suddenly some things come out about evolutionary changes and women adapting to cultural shifts better, blah blah blah, adapt or fall off, change or die, blah blah blah, pendulum swinging to the other side, human development, the New Man...public health policy, yak yak yada yada.
yeah. i totally pushed my dad over the edge.
feminism, evolution and the new man?? his head probably exploded.
Monday, May 24, 2004
my father and i have been exchanging long emails about the War. (if i was from the south, or in the cast of 'cold mountain', i'd say it like waw-uh.)
our epistolary discussion began (this time) because of a particularly insane screed he had posted on his own site. apparently, my fruit doesn't fall very far from the patriarchal tree--except my fruit is right and his is just insane.
so i wrote a rebuttal to the insane article - a rebuttal which needs much editing, but i'm essentially right, and which he ignored. being ignored angered me so i sent another billet-doux, listing all the ways he and his ilk have been mistaken about the war (there are statistics and i thought i'd bolster my argument with some of those.) but his next message said that since he was on his way to church, he'd have to get back to me - he only wants, however, an admission from me that it's important to be loyal to our country.
this morning, when i read that, i gulped, chomped down a multi-vitamin and began another long letter that began with a quote from tom paine. one screedy nutbag deserves another, i say! anyway, my letter is finished and rests in the inbox of my pater familias.
i fear he and i will never stand on common ground on this matter and it pains me to lump my dad with the millions of those ignoramuses who watch Fox news and listen to Michael Savage. i'm sure it pains him, too, to have a daughter who can't see the world through a calm, conservative lens that efficiently bifurcates the world in to Good and Evil.
it would be useless of me to give him a fast tutorial on saussure, derrida, foucault, binary oppositions, hidden ideological values in language, etc., but i wish i could. ah, ucla. professor pecora...you've ruined me for my father. i have been tainted with critical theory.
our epistolary discussion began (this time) because of a particularly insane screed he had posted on his own site. apparently, my fruit doesn't fall very far from the patriarchal tree--except my fruit is right and his is just insane.
so i wrote a rebuttal to the insane article - a rebuttal which needs much editing, but i'm essentially right, and which he ignored. being ignored angered me so i sent another billet-doux, listing all the ways he and his ilk have been mistaken about the war (there are statistics and i thought i'd bolster my argument with some of those.) but his next message said that since he was on his way to church, he'd have to get back to me - he only wants, however, an admission from me that it's important to be loyal to our country.
this morning, when i read that, i gulped, chomped down a multi-vitamin and began another long letter that began with a quote from tom paine. one screedy nutbag deserves another, i say! anyway, my letter is finished and rests in the inbox of my pater familias.
i fear he and i will never stand on common ground on this matter and it pains me to lump my dad with the millions of those ignoramuses who watch Fox news and listen to Michael Savage. i'm sure it pains him, too, to have a daughter who can't see the world through a calm, conservative lens that efficiently bifurcates the world in to Good and Evil.
it would be useless of me to give him a fast tutorial on saussure, derrida, foucault, binary oppositions, hidden ideological values in language, etc., but i wish i could. ah, ucla. professor pecora...you've ruined me for my father. i have been tainted with critical theory.
Thursday, May 20, 2004
hmm.
i changed the template for screed and now some of the fonts are funny. of course, i don't know how to change it. looked at the tags in the template, tried to figure out how to change font size, but alas--incomprehensible.
a mild annoyance.
oh, and it's so hot and muggy today, my hair has its own gravitational pull.
i changed the template for screed and now some of the fonts are funny. of course, i don't know how to change it. looked at the tags in the template, tried to figure out how to change font size, but alas--incomprehensible.
a mild annoyance.
oh, and it's so hot and muggy today, my hair has its own gravitational pull.
hangin' with the boss
last night i had drinks after work with my boss.
the following are the insights culled from the middle-aged male mind:
-mid life crisis: all bullshit, made up by women to keep their husbands repressed. you get married early, have no money, have a family and so you sacrifice and know you can't have that fast car you want; then years go by and you're making money and suddenly you realize that you can have the car! so you get the car! and there are all these other things you've repressed and now you can have it because you have the money to have it and you want it! not when the kids graduate, now! [and you don't consider that a crisis?] it's not a crisis! it's a car and now you have it! big deal!
-taxes: there should be a flat tax. this is the floor of how much it costs to run the government; tax me on that amount! not a different tax for every little thing! just take it! one tax!
-why men watch sports: men like to solve problems, you know? and with sports, you have easy solutions to complex problems. who's good up against a left-handed pitcher? who's great on defense? who sucks and is paid too much? it's like being the coach, like having all the decisions to make of a phil jackson and none of the risk. you know why people don't vote? sports. it's easier.
my boss. he's like, uh, buddha.
the following are the insights culled from the middle-aged male mind:
-mid life crisis: all bullshit, made up by women to keep their husbands repressed. you get married early, have no money, have a family and so you sacrifice and know you can't have that fast car you want; then years go by and you're making money and suddenly you realize that you can have the car! so you get the car! and there are all these other things you've repressed and now you can have it because you have the money to have it and you want it! not when the kids graduate, now! [and you don't consider that a crisis?] it's not a crisis! it's a car and now you have it! big deal!
-taxes: there should be a flat tax. this is the floor of how much it costs to run the government; tax me on that amount! not a different tax for every little thing! just take it! one tax!
-why men watch sports: men like to solve problems, you know? and with sports, you have easy solutions to complex problems. who's good up against a left-handed pitcher? who's great on defense? who sucks and is paid too much? it's like being the coach, like having all the decisions to make of a phil jackson and none of the risk. you know why people don't vote? sports. it's easier.
my boss. he's like, uh, buddha.
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
deeply deeply mortifying
so. that party saturday night. 'flirted like a sailor' i posted.
on my way out, at the end of the party, i fell into light flirtatious conversation with a guy who, through my gin-soaked eye, was giving me an oracular once over of his own. yum, i thought and began to spin a web of sparkly chatter - all to invite this guy and his friend over to 'teach me and my friends poker', and perhaps not spend spring/summer sighing fitfully over my lack of company. ah, what well-laid plans.
i gave him my card; he gave me a compliment; i accepted the compliment and touched his arm; he made with the funny; i laughed with appreciation and tossed back my head, leaning in a bit more. we all said goodbye; perhaps i kissed his neck. (damn you, gin!) i warmed myself with thoughts of follow up emails and more flirting.
at work, i found myself replaying our brief conversation, convinced that True Animal Attraction had howled between us. i found myself wondering why i didn't go to friends' parties more often if this was how simple it was. i found myself on the original evite, cleverly stripping his email and tucking it away, just in case too many days passed without an email from my late night party swain.
today i emailed the host of the party, thanking him for a fabulous time, wishing him well in his new city, then slipped in an inocuous "So...about that RG...I think we had a moment; what's his story?"
i obssessively checked my email, waiting for the Host to come back with the skinny--just any kernel of information, anything that would allow me to unleash my earthquake of lust.
imagine my horror when the Host very gently said, "Um, sweetie, he's my brother in law. Are you sure you had a moment?"
aaagh! with a bad eye for detail like this, how can i be sure of anything anymore?? aagh! did i see his ring? aagh! i wasn't expecting a ring! he looked my age! only old people are married! gaah! yuck!
there's no graceful way to recover from something like that, you know?
on my way out, at the end of the party, i fell into light flirtatious conversation with a guy who, through my gin-soaked eye, was giving me an oracular once over of his own. yum, i thought and began to spin a web of sparkly chatter - all to invite this guy and his friend over to 'teach me and my friends poker', and perhaps not spend spring/summer sighing fitfully over my lack of company. ah, what well-laid plans.
i gave him my card; he gave me a compliment; i accepted the compliment and touched his arm; he made with the funny; i laughed with appreciation and tossed back my head, leaning in a bit more. we all said goodbye; perhaps i kissed his neck. (damn you, gin!) i warmed myself with thoughts of follow up emails and more flirting.
at work, i found myself replaying our brief conversation, convinced that True Animal Attraction had howled between us. i found myself wondering why i didn't go to friends' parties more often if this was how simple it was. i found myself on the original evite, cleverly stripping his email and tucking it away, just in case too many days passed without an email from my late night party swain.
today i emailed the host of the party, thanking him for a fabulous time, wishing him well in his new city, then slipped in an inocuous "So...about that RG...I think we had a moment; what's his story?"
i obssessively checked my email, waiting for the Host to come back with the skinny--just any kernel of information, anything that would allow me to unleash my earthquake of lust.
imagine my horror when the Host very gently said, "Um, sweetie, he's my brother in law. Are you sure you had a moment?"
aaagh! with a bad eye for detail like this, how can i be sure of anything anymore?? aagh! did i see his ring? aagh! i wasn't expecting a ring! he looked my age! only old people are married! gaah! yuck!
there's no graceful way to recover from something like that, you know?
Sunday, May 16, 2004
Saturday, May 15, 2004
van helsing: too much of a good thing
there's something wrong with a movie when you can't even enjoy hugh jackman half naked writhing on the floor.
there's something wrong with a movie when you spend most of your time wondering where they bought kate beckinsale's corset (it's totally hot, looked complicated, and i want one.) and her boots - love the heel.
there's something wrong with a movie when it fails to deliver what most movies exist to deliver: catharsis.
watching this movie was like...well, it was like sex on ecstasy - bright lights, big sound, felt sorta good, but never seemed to end. it just kept going until it ground all those good feelings into the mattress and then you were left with a stiff neck, gritted teeth and a tight pelvis.
tense, man, tense.
...
rant of the week:
you know those people who arrive late to a show and then, when the movie has already started, stand in the aisles talking about where to sit, and then ask you to move your seat so they can sit together?
yeah, they need to go away and here's why:
1. you're a dumbass for being late. i was not late. not being late gives me the privilege of sitting where i want-especially when there are other seats for you, the late person, to choose.
that's it - that's the only issue. there's no list.
you were late, i wasn't, leave me alone and sit in the front where all the rest of the late people sit.
don't ask me to move, because i won't. everytime i do, i get angry and it makes me feel like a sucker--a sucker to your poor planning and/or inability to manage your time.
there's something wrong with a movie when you spend most of your time wondering where they bought kate beckinsale's corset (it's totally hot, looked complicated, and i want one.) and her boots - love the heel.
there's something wrong with a movie when it fails to deliver what most movies exist to deliver: catharsis.
watching this movie was like...well, it was like sex on ecstasy - bright lights, big sound, felt sorta good, but never seemed to end. it just kept going until it ground all those good feelings into the mattress and then you were left with a stiff neck, gritted teeth and a tight pelvis.
tense, man, tense.
...
rant of the week:
you know those people who arrive late to a show and then, when the movie has already started, stand in the aisles talking about where to sit, and then ask you to move your seat so they can sit together?
yeah, they need to go away and here's why:
1. you're a dumbass for being late. i was not late. not being late gives me the privilege of sitting where i want-especially when there are other seats for you, the late person, to choose.
that's it - that's the only issue. there's no list.
you were late, i wasn't, leave me alone and sit in the front where all the rest of the late people sit.
don't ask me to move, because i won't. everytime i do, i get angry and it makes me feel like a sucker--a sucker to your poor planning and/or inability to manage your time.
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
Music for America
a totally cool site.
music, politics and a way to mobilize people who weren't born in time to see star wars in the theaters.
music, politics and a way to mobilize people who weren't born in time to see star wars in the theaters.
Monday, May 10, 2004
now i know why people register when they marry: shopping for dinnerware and silverware is a pain in the arse.
i'm at work (barely) and my thoughts are wandering...should i go after the kate spade pink plates or should i go for something less expensive and more...humble, like this?
and flatware...i thought i was being clever, ordering a nice set of flatware on sale online. on further investigation i only purchased one placesettng. my domestic ignorance is showing, i know, but when june leaves, i will be left with a spoon and a knife.
i'm at work (barely) and my thoughts are wandering...should i go after the kate spade pink plates or should i go for something less expensive and more...humble, like this?
and flatware...i thought i was being clever, ordering a nice set of flatware on sale online. on further investigation i only purchased one placesettng. my domestic ignorance is showing, i know, but when june leaves, i will be left with a spoon and a knife.
Office Wench, pt 2
I wasn't always an Office Wench. Sure, I did office stuff to put myself through college and earn summer cash in grad school, but that was all to fund the brain trust. (Actually, it was to give me cash to buy books that weren't on the reading list and to indulge in my newfound love of alcohol.)
But when I left grad school being an assistant was the thing I fell into - I was good at it, the perks were better than those found in academic life and I didn't have to sweat, wear a hairnet or a uniform. But I also didn't realize that an academic or humanities background seriously hobbled one's ability to deal with the real world.
For instance, independent thinking, while an asset in grad school just makes you a target in corporate hell - unless you're above middle management.
Critical thinking? Well, you're just an arrogant snob with a disturbing air of condescension, who doesn't know how to be a team player. (hah, and if you're a person of color, well, then you're uppitty on top of that.)
Questioning sources (i.e., authority)? Yeah, good luck with that. Guys with less education than you, and just a few years older than you, want you to bend over and pucker on their sphincter.
Make a few references to literature written before 1995? You might as well stand up naked in a conference room and admit you fellate homeless men for recreation, for the good that'll do for your corporate social life.
Working at a Big 5 made me realize a Gen X-er working in a corporate death star is a person just seething with rage. We work hard to tamp it down (we like to use humor - or sarcasm, whatever) but it builds. Really, the only thing that compensates for it is a big paycheck-and our sense of cultural superiority. Once that goes, well, look out. Explosive rage. Anarchic tendencies forced into repression have a way of leaking out in all sorts of inappropriate manner.
Some days I wish there was one day for bosses to hear what their assistants really thought about them. Everyone remembers the kid who was smacked around by Martha Stewart but that was nothing.
I've worked with some women who are poisoned with their own hate. They smile, get coffee and schedule your conference calls (the ones you never remember how to dial into), and in strides Bob - King of his Corporate Domain - thinking his assistant Cathy is like family, Cathy has been with him for years, Cathy is like his wife, but quieter and less expensive. Meanwhile, Cathy dreams of the time she enters an intersection on a rainy night, sees Bob, and her foot slips off the brake.
I know. It seems petty. But imagine spending 8 hours a day with a human being who refuses to learn anything; who refuses to care for himself; who can't remember things you've told them yesterday, this morning or whenever; imagine a whole day spent with someone who has no sense of porportion. It's not like having a screamer for a boss or working for a Republican, but it's just those moments, the ones that collect in your gut, when you look across the desk and you realize that you have to *serve* this pathetic corporate dweeb - he's boring, uninteresting, dull, myopic and cares about...crap.
It's like taking care of a baby.
But when I left grad school being an assistant was the thing I fell into - I was good at it, the perks were better than those found in academic life and I didn't have to sweat, wear a hairnet or a uniform. But I also didn't realize that an academic or humanities background seriously hobbled one's ability to deal with the real world.
For instance, independent thinking, while an asset in grad school just makes you a target in corporate hell - unless you're above middle management.
Critical thinking? Well, you're just an arrogant snob with a disturbing air of condescension, who doesn't know how to be a team player. (hah, and if you're a person of color, well, then you're uppitty on top of that.)
Questioning sources (i.e., authority)? Yeah, good luck with that. Guys with less education than you, and just a few years older than you, want you to bend over and pucker on their sphincter.
Make a few references to literature written before 1995? You might as well stand up naked in a conference room and admit you fellate homeless men for recreation, for the good that'll do for your corporate social life.
Working at a Big 5 made me realize a Gen X-er working in a corporate death star is a person just seething with rage. We work hard to tamp it down (we like to use humor - or sarcasm, whatever) but it builds. Really, the only thing that compensates for it is a big paycheck-and our sense of cultural superiority. Once that goes, well, look out. Explosive rage. Anarchic tendencies forced into repression have a way of leaking out in all sorts of inappropriate manner.
Some days I wish there was one day for bosses to hear what their assistants really thought about them. Everyone remembers the kid who was smacked around by Martha Stewart but that was nothing.
I've worked with some women who are poisoned with their own hate. They smile, get coffee and schedule your conference calls (the ones you never remember how to dial into), and in strides Bob - King of his Corporate Domain - thinking his assistant Cathy is like family, Cathy has been with him for years, Cathy is like his wife, but quieter and less expensive. Meanwhile, Cathy dreams of the time she enters an intersection on a rainy night, sees Bob, and her foot slips off the brake.
I know. It seems petty. But imagine spending 8 hours a day with a human being who refuses to learn anything; who refuses to care for himself; who can't remember things you've told them yesterday, this morning or whenever; imagine a whole day spent with someone who has no sense of porportion. It's not like having a screamer for a boss or working for a Republican, but it's just those moments, the ones that collect in your gut, when you look across the desk and you realize that you have to *serve* this pathetic corporate dweeb - he's boring, uninteresting, dull, myopic and cares about...crap.
It's like taking care of a baby.
Sunday, May 09, 2004
relationship retard
just left the eHarmony site; they sent me a message that i was about to be deactivated so i logged on - heaven forbid i should be deactivated!!
like little clams, two matches waited for me. poor things, they've been stewing for about a month. i had no idea they were there! one, clearly impatient with my lack of response, closed communication with me. the other was still open, waiting patiently for me to read about his willingness to share with his partner.
if you haven't been on eHarmony, i think you should. it doesn't give you the sweaty, panting breath thrill that Nerve gives ('ohh, baby, let's play...') and it's not the immediate horror of match.com ('i'm an IT adminitrator in Palatine and I just want to make you groove!'). eHarmony is like a soothing, brainy doctor in a white lab coat taking your hand and walking you through every step of mating like you're a retard.
(the dorky photo of amy and greg on the home page, engaged 2003, only reinforces your Rainman feeling.)
step one: take a personality quiz that will put the Meyers-Briggs to shame.
step two: take another test that will pinpoint your social skills and general likes/dislikes.
step three: fill out a profile
step four: launch your profile
step five: wait. and wait more.
(note: you can't browse for matches; they will bring matches to you, thus removing your habitual bad decision making skills from the equation.)
step six: if you have a match: read the profile and choose 5 ice-breaking questions. you have now entered the Guided Communication Process.
(note: you won't really be allowed to have Free/Open Communication until much further down the road.)
this is what's so weird about eHarmony. it doesn't trust you. it won't let you browse, it won't let you view photos, it won't let you make direct contact with a person because it doesn't trust you to behave like a rational adult.
and while it kills me to say this, they may have a point. i've done the online thing for about 3 years now and, i have to admit, my online dating ritual goes through a predictable lifecycle:
*find the profile that doesn't make me gag (preferably a guy with a snarky personality, who just wants to 'play' and lives several states away.)
*exchange steaming emails for a couple of months that would put the brownings to shame (not to mention anais nin)
*engage in some sweaty naughty talk, thus ramping up quickly to the inevitable online/face to face hook up (which usually entails someone buying a plane ticket)
*stop emailing, feel weird/disappointed/indifferent, move on to the next one.
eHarmony puts the kibosh on all that dead end-action. they run your meyers-briggs profile through some kind of scientific whammo and out of thousands of profiles, they match you with one. ONE. and they won't let you step out of line - no dirty talk, no phone sex, no lubricious emails, no running straight to bed before you discover that you're totally incompatible and will only make the other person vomit.
so there you are, a relationship retard, wearing a paper gown with your ass hanging out, led by the hand by a guy in a lab coat through the labyrinth of love - gently, scientifically, reasonably guided down a shiny white corridor.
sad that it's come to this.
like little clams, two matches waited for me. poor things, they've been stewing for about a month. i had no idea they were there! one, clearly impatient with my lack of response, closed communication with me. the other was still open, waiting patiently for me to read about his willingness to share with his partner.
if you haven't been on eHarmony, i think you should. it doesn't give you the sweaty, panting breath thrill that Nerve gives ('ohh, baby, let's play...') and it's not the immediate horror of match.com ('i'm an IT adminitrator in Palatine and I just want to make you groove!'). eHarmony is like a soothing, brainy doctor in a white lab coat taking your hand and walking you through every step of mating like you're a retard.
(the dorky photo of amy and greg on the home page, engaged 2003, only reinforces your Rainman feeling.)
step one: take a personality quiz that will put the Meyers-Briggs to shame.
step two: take another test that will pinpoint your social skills and general likes/dislikes.
step three: fill out a profile
step four: launch your profile
step five: wait. and wait more.
(note: you can't browse for matches; they will bring matches to you, thus removing your habitual bad decision making skills from the equation.)
step six: if you have a match: read the profile and choose 5 ice-breaking questions. you have now entered the Guided Communication Process.
(note: you won't really be allowed to have Free/Open Communication until much further down the road.)
this is what's so weird about eHarmony. it doesn't trust you. it won't let you browse, it won't let you view photos, it won't let you make direct contact with a person because it doesn't trust you to behave like a rational adult.
and while it kills me to say this, they may have a point. i've done the online thing for about 3 years now and, i have to admit, my online dating ritual goes through a predictable lifecycle:
*find the profile that doesn't make me gag (preferably a guy with a snarky personality, who just wants to 'play' and lives several states away.)
*exchange steaming emails for a couple of months that would put the brownings to shame (not to mention anais nin)
*engage in some sweaty naughty talk, thus ramping up quickly to the inevitable online/face to face hook up (which usually entails someone buying a plane ticket)
*stop emailing, feel weird/disappointed/indifferent, move on to the next one.
eHarmony puts the kibosh on all that dead end-action. they run your meyers-briggs profile through some kind of scientific whammo and out of thousands of profiles, they match you with one. ONE. and they won't let you step out of line - no dirty talk, no phone sex, no lubricious emails, no running straight to bed before you discover that you're totally incompatible and will only make the other person vomit.
so there you are, a relationship retard, wearing a paper gown with your ass hanging out, led by the hand by a guy in a lab coat through the labyrinth of love - gently, scientifically, reasonably guided down a shiny white corridor.
sad that it's come to this.
phone bankin' & bush whackin'!
total success, thanks to the friends who came over to burn their weekend minutes and call apathetic voters across the nation. sigh. it really is depressing - out of 525 phone calls, i think we got 15 email addresses. of course, the majority of those on our list weren't home because we called in the afternoon, but still.
Friday, May 07, 2004
and lest i forget...
the morning after pill - not gonna be sold over the counter. grrr. what is the deal??
and here's a post on dailykos about it (which also has a link to original article).
it makes me wanna holler, you know?
the morning after pill - not gonna be sold over the counter. grrr. what is the deal??
and here's a post on dailykos about it (which also has a link to original article).
it makes me wanna holler, you know?
'friends'...lame
what a waste.
i missed the fireman 'reveal' on extreme makeover - home ed. to watch the weak, lame, tired, used up, retread, sorry finale of 'friends.'
was it just me, or was it painfully unfunny?
rachel dumps her fab job in paris to stay with ross?? why not go on sabbatical for a year, ross, and go to paris with your girlfriend and child? after all, you *bought the ticket*!! i mean, wouldn't that just be a better ending - better than having one last coffee at the cafe?
i missed the fireman 'reveal' on extreme makeover - home ed. to watch the weak, lame, tired, used up, retread, sorry finale of 'friends.'
was it just me, or was it painfully unfunny?
rachel dumps her fab job in paris to stay with ross?? why not go on sabbatical for a year, ross, and go to paris with your girlfriend and child? after all, you *bought the ticket*!! i mean, wouldn't that just be a better ending - better than having one last coffee at the cafe?
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
working out
i now belong to a gym.
it's not one of those testosterone-laden Bally's sweat tanks or one of those uber-hip gyms like Crunch or Sweat or Grunt or whatever they're called now. and it's not the quiet chic sophisticated kind of gym like East Bank or Holmes Place.
no, it's Slim & Tone. it's a girly 'gym' for girlies who hate working out and don't want anyone to bother them. if those other gyms are for people with celebrity personalities, my gym is for people who feel like they're in the witness protection program. S&T is strictly no-nonsense: a circuit of machines, a treadmill, a shower, some fruit, a scale, and a perky girl who follows you around, working out with you so you won't feel lonely.
i like lonely, lady. that's why i'm here at 6.30 am. so i can be lonely while i figure out how to clench my ass and squeeze my thighs to the thumping house beats of madonna. when i took my workout personality test, i'm pretty sure Fuck Off was my key trait.
i hate working out and i do it furtively - it's not because i don't like showing my body while it's sweating and grunting (i'm consciously NOT going to make a sexual remark here.) it's not because i hate how i look in my yoga pants and red lycra tank (i also have the cutest polo footies ever!!).
i scuttle around the machines and watch the clock like a hawk because i HATE being in a gym. i hate thinking about form, reps, cooling down, over extending, whatever. it's the most boring thing on earth - next to golf and listening to a fundamentalist drone on about the proper role of women.
i also hate the people who talk about working out: the guys who drone on about the burn (whatever), the girls who chatter about their awesome spinning class (eat something) or the couples who drawl about their yoga (it's not attractive that you can now lick your own butthole.) they can all shut up and go away. i don't want to hear about how many inches you've lost or how many carbs you've dropped or how ripped your guns are.
it's boring. shut up.
i'd rather smoke an entire pack of cigarettes in a dark old guy bar while drinking rotgut than be in a gym. i'd rather sit through a derrida lecture than go to the gym. i'd rather hook up again with IncognitoLatino and have him bite my neck than go to the gym. and yet - here i am. sweating, grunting, lunging, bending, heaving, almost vomiting (too much cardio, too much cardio).
heh - but irony rears its head and forces me to admit that it feels really good. dammit.
it's not one of those testosterone-laden Bally's sweat tanks or one of those uber-hip gyms like Crunch or Sweat or Grunt or whatever they're called now. and it's not the quiet chic sophisticated kind of gym like East Bank or Holmes Place.
no, it's Slim & Tone. it's a girly 'gym' for girlies who hate working out and don't want anyone to bother them. if those other gyms are for people with celebrity personalities, my gym is for people who feel like they're in the witness protection program. S&T is strictly no-nonsense: a circuit of machines, a treadmill, a shower, some fruit, a scale, and a perky girl who follows you around, working out with you so you won't feel lonely.
i like lonely, lady. that's why i'm here at 6.30 am. so i can be lonely while i figure out how to clench my ass and squeeze my thighs to the thumping house beats of madonna. when i took my workout personality test, i'm pretty sure Fuck Off was my key trait.
i hate working out and i do it furtively - it's not because i don't like showing my body while it's sweating and grunting (i'm consciously NOT going to make a sexual remark here.) it's not because i hate how i look in my yoga pants and red lycra tank (i also have the cutest polo footies ever!!).
i scuttle around the machines and watch the clock like a hawk because i HATE being in a gym. i hate thinking about form, reps, cooling down, over extending, whatever. it's the most boring thing on earth - next to golf and listening to a fundamentalist drone on about the proper role of women.
i also hate the people who talk about working out: the guys who drone on about the burn (whatever), the girls who chatter about their awesome spinning class (eat something) or the couples who drawl about their yoga (it's not attractive that you can now lick your own butthole.) they can all shut up and go away. i don't want to hear about how many inches you've lost or how many carbs you've dropped or how ripped your guns are.
it's boring. shut up.
i'd rather smoke an entire pack of cigarettes in a dark old guy bar while drinking rotgut than be in a gym. i'd rather sit through a derrida lecture than go to the gym. i'd rather hook up again with IncognitoLatino and have him bite my neck than go to the gym. and yet - here i am. sweating, grunting, lunging, bending, heaving, almost vomiting (too much cardio, too much cardio).
heh - but irony rears its head and forces me to admit that it feels really good. dammit.
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
last night, exhausted by my political fervor and the ankle-grabbing day i had at work, i sat on the couch and ate cereal while watching 'unbreakable.'
this was a faint mirror of saturday night when i sat on the couch in my underpants, ate cereal, and read comic books.
more and more, my girliness is fading away only to be replaced by a comic book reading dork who blogs.
i am becoming a guy.
this was a faint mirror of saturday night when i sat on the couch in my underpants, ate cereal, and read comic books.
more and more, my girliness is fading away only to be replaced by a comic book reading dork who blogs.
i am becoming a guy.
Monday, May 03, 2004
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)