How All Good Things Seem To End

Whether I want them to or not.

Sometimes I just have to wonder about the stability of my interactions with others. Things never seem to get this bad with the people that don't matter to me, but I'm always having these explosive blow-outs with the people who I care about the most. And you'd think, if these people were so damn important, I would make more of an effort to salvage things, or to avoid the moment where damage becomes irrevocable and that bridge is burned.

But I don't. Or if I do, it somehow doesn't seem to matter.

Most current applicable situation - my boss. I admired her, wanted to be like her, saw her as the logical, cynical, liberal, Bay Area successful mom that I never had, considered her a friend, spent a full hour of my engagement party drinking with her, and thought we were a team. Somehow, a few mis-steps later, we're not even talking, I am leaving the company post-haste, and she spends her time looking for reasons to fire me. It's now a race against time. Will I leave, or will I be escorted out?

How did this happen? In spite of a Liberal Arts education, several classes in Psychology, living examples of what NOT to do, and a decent brain on my shoulders, I have no clue.

The Unintentionally Creepy Dude

I spend a lot of time thinking about the unavoidable judgments that come along with boobs, blond hair, and an ass. I worry that if I don't constantly demonstrate intelligence or seem too casual I will garner zero respect. More often than I would like I worry about being disregarded or overlooked because of surface appearances.

I don't think this is simply paranoia. I've been engaged in a battle to overcome the dumb blond stereotype my entire life, and have realized that for men of a certain age, sexism is so irrevocably ingrained into their psyches that there is nothing I could do to overcome it. (Luckily most of those dudes have only about 20-30 years left.)

However, I was walking by a guy at our office today, and I realized there is a far worse stereotype than the dumb blond. The old creepy dude.


It's the dude with the nose hair and the unpredictable sweat glands. The dude with an awkward laugh who hasn't yet mastered eye contact. Maybe he's got too many pictures of his young nieces hanging up in his office. Somewhere between 30-60, he's single, and is just too weird to be passed off as your laughable "dirty old man" or lovable "office nerd."

And whenever you see that guy at the office, you can't help but cringe.

I would hate to live in fear that every comment or off-color joke I made would lead people to assume I was a pedophile, or that I had a sex dungeon in the basement.

I suppose there could be some logical discussion of what's worse - with the right connections and proper grooming the creepy dude can still have the corner office, but the dumb blond can get laid - but it doesn't matter. I would rather be anyone than the unintentionally creepy dude at my office.

I am the Oyster

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
"Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed--
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed."

"But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
"After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!"
"The night is fine," the Walrus said.
"Do you admire the view?

"It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf--
I've had to ask you twice!"

"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"The butter's spread too thick!"

"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

"O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none--
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.

Why I am Sick of Television

For me, the last recent opportunity for political outrage was the Obama/McCain election. I became addicted to Keith Olbermann - whose indignant rants were always mollifying - I fought with friends and acquaintances on Facebook, and I truly believed that if McCain and Palin won the election, America as I knew it would be destroyed.

All that emotion -patriotism, fear, and outrage were absolutely exhausting, and I temporarily swore off politics in November of 2008.

Then came the health care debate.

This time around, I have refused to get up-in-arms about any of the issues - I definitely wanted health care reform, but was not concerned that the world would end if it failed. I am excited to see it passed, and to see Obama sign it into law, but my excitement has been somewhat dampened by the hyperbole and hysteria of the other side.


The public is always susceptible to media messaging, and it's been disheartening to hear people with a LOT of influence (Limbaugh and Beck are the two that stand out in this case) using their influence to incite. I know that this happens on both sides, but the level of extreme and hateful things being said by the Right seems unprecedented to me. Encouraging people to do anything in their power to destroy and "crush" the Left. Saying irrational things like "Progressiveness is a Cancer that must be destroyed" - or - "these socialists must be wiped out" - or - "This is the end of prosperity in America forever." Comparing Obama to Hitler (when it seems to me that calling a group of people "a cancer" is closer to Hitler-talk than anything Obama has ever said.)

It's talk that gets people off the actual issues, encourages radicalism and violence, and whips America into a frenzy. Using words like "socialism" "communism" and "fascism" in this debate to describe what really comes down to extra regulations on insurance companies, is such a divisive and at best, unhelpful way for people who supposedly "love America" to behave. It gets us away from working toward common goals (even if our methods of achieving those goals differ) and puts us in this "us or them" mindset where nothing can ever be accomplished.

And they say I'm dangerous for the future of the country.

Let My Boobies Go

In DBo's family, the tendency is to be super thin with a moderate rack. I mean, that's cool with me, I'm not one to hate on the fortune of others. I'm not particularly thin myself - I mean, I work at it, I'm fit, but I would say I am more of the "boobs-and-ass" variety than the "twig" variety. And that's generally cool with me too.

What bothers me, is that because I am curvy and they are not, I have been consistently held to a higher standard of prudish dressing than the women in DBo's family.

Whenever I wear something that is remotely cleavage-y, or a teensy bit shorter than normal, I get the same death stare I’d expect to receive if I walked in wearing stripper heels and a strap-on.

On the other hand, DBo’s sister is constantly prancing around in teeny rolled-down shorts (like she’s 13 and trying to impress a boy in PE class) spaghetti-strapped midriffs that seem to say ‘Yeah I’m slutty, who cares?” and dresses from Forever 21 that look more like slips than something one would reasonably leave the house in.

Yet somehow, this is all passable, because she’s a twig. And yes, she looks good in her outfits, but there is no way in hell I would get away with some of the shit she wears. (Proof: I have been pulled aside at family parties for wearing a v-neck.)

I decided to try and get around this issue this weekend at my engagement party, where I chose a somewhat tight/boob-a-licious Band-Aid dress.

In reality, it's the opposite of scandalous, but it shows a bit of tit. So in the eyes of the fam, it might as well be a thong.

I was super excited to wear this dress out, and spent the week before the party tanning, working out, and getting the necessary waxes. However, when I showed up on Saturday night, I saw DBo's sister in a conservative flowy dress, and his mom was in an age-appropriate skirt. Of course, I started feeling insanely self-conscious. And of course, as expected I got the surprised look from his mom that says, “You’re really wearing that!”

Long story short, I spent the first hour of the party pulling the hemline down and the neckline up, and it wasn’t until I had a couple of Flaming Dr Peppers that I began to feel like myself, and stopped giving a shit. I ended up getting quite a few compliments, a few that I didn’t hear about until after the party, and, I suppose that all-in-all it was a good outfit choice for a party that’s all about me.

What’s amazing to me though, is just how much the judgment of thin girls can turn me into an insecure wall-flower. The first hour, I was ashamed to be in pictures, I couldn't make eye contact, and I didn't feel like talking to anyone. It makes me sad that I try so hard to please people who don’t seem to understand that there are only a few years where you can wear crazy red dresses and not be called a “Cougar” or a “Home-wrecker” or a flat out "Slut" and that you need to take advantage of them.

I mostly hate the fact that I apparently need to have a minimalist body type to be able to wear what I want around my future family. Unless I develop an allergic reaction to food or boobs in the near future, this is a problem I don't see going away . . . . and I have no clue how to A. shut them up, or B. make myself stop caring. Fuck'n sucks.

If You're Gonna Do It, Do It Right

I got in an argument yesterday with my soon to be mother-in-law about the presence of old people at my wedding. It's not an issue on my side, I just have 2 grandmas to invite - other than that, my "family" consists of less than 10 people. On the other hand, DBo's Dad has 10 aunts + their husbands who are all over the age of 80, and apparently we "need" to include them and their old friends and family at the wedding. Oh - and apparently we shouldn't worry too much about having cool food because there will be a million old people there who won't appreciate it anyway. And we want to make sure our music choices appeal to the generations, cause they're all gonna be there. At that point, I had to resist the urge to puke in my mouth.

Here's something you should know about me. I am terrified of old people. Except for ones I know well, like Grandma P, my own grandma, and . . . well . . . that's about it.

Absolutely terrifying.

Old people smell funny, they don't know how to have fun, they still bitch about Kennedy, Ford, and Carter, they're often racist, they don't get my humor, they're shocked by anything current, they don't dance, you can't tell them anything, and, in a lot of ways, they just remind me of the inevitability of death. I don't want to be thinking about hip replacements, and caretakers, and lack of taste-buds, and widow-hood at my wedding. I want lights and beauty and friends and laughing and dancing and fun. Otherwise, what's the point?

I bitched about all of this to DBo, and he was totally awesome in reminding me that we have only been engaged for 3 weeks now, that we shouldn't be thinking about anything other than finding a location we like, and don't I have a Europe trip I should be planning instead of worrying about all this shit?

Very true, I just always envisioned my wedding being the best kick-ass party of the year, and I don't want to be reined into having this traditional, all-family-must-be-present event. I want to have the sort of wedding with the sort of guests who appreciate a wine pairing, know awesome music when they hear it, can taste awesome food when it's in front of them, and would love to get an invitation like this.

It's Not You, It's Them. Really. It's Them.

I am continually surprised by how poorly NBC does in the ratings, when they have some of the best shows on TV. All I can conclude is that there are a lot of idiots out there who don't appreciate a good thing unless it hits them over the head, shoves them into a bag, locks them into a trunk, and drives them into the river. Until then, they'll stick to Fox thanks.

NBC offers the following:

The Office:



30Rock:



Parks and Rec:



Community:



And the cherry on the top -



Conan O'Brien.

How can a line up like this fail?!

It just kills me to see Fox killing NBC week after week when Fox is obviously controlled by special interests during the day, and then offers tired, stereotypical programming that takes little risk in the evening (think American Idol.)

Even people who have been made rich by Fox knows they suck.