Yeah, Great Blog…

If there’s one thing this presidential campaign has brought to light, it’s that America is sexist. Now, we women knew that already because we have to deal with sexism as part of our day-to-day lives, but I can’t tell you how many men I know (my boyfriend included) that stubbornly insist that sexism is a thing of the past.

Just to put it out there: I don’t like Hillary Clinton. In fact, I hate her. I’m glad she’s not going to win the democratic primary, because she’s corrupt and her ideas would destroy America (okay… next time I’ll tell you how I really feel). 

So you understand that I’m not a fan.

But stuff like this t-shirt really makes me sick. It’s one thing to disagree with her as a politician, but to attack her because she’s a woman — and we’ve seen so much of that in the past year — is point-black unacceptable. Why does she get picked on for what she wears? Why is she called a “thing,” and “the right man for the job… Not,” and, most shockingly and important, why is she repeatedly attacked with nasty language, as you see above, that attacks her femininity, and not her occupation as a politician?

You don’t see anyone calling Obama a manwhore or McCain a gigolo… why are they calling Hillary a whore (and worse)?

So I was late leaving for work this morning (*sigh* big surprise) and I caught the first few minutes of The Morning Show with Mike and Juliet on Fox.  Now I had never heard of this show before, so I’m not sure how widely syndicated it is, but suffice it to say that it’s like Regis and Kelly on crack.  They pick the most ridiculous stories to cover and ask the most obviously poised to create drama and unnecessary controversy questions, from what I can tell from their website.

This morning one of their stories was about the growing trend of mothers taking their toddler daughters for spa treatments:  manicures, pedicures, facials, massages, waxing– the whole enchilada as some of the gringos at work say when they are trying to fit in with the Bilingual Editors.  In the interest of appearing to be fair, there were two sets of guests, one mother and her four year old daughter who go to the spa all the time and see nothing wrong with it and another mother and her sixteen year old daughter who is forbidden to go to the spa.  The spa loving mother’s argument was (and I’m quoting directly) “I want my daughter to know that she is a princess in my eyes and a princess in god’s eyes.”  She also said that she wants her daughter to know that she should be pampered and take good care of herself so guys in the future won’t take advantage of her.  How the hell is this little girl going to grow up with a healthy sense of self?  Once she is old enough to understand how the real world works, she is going to realize that she isn’t that special and she will no doubt be crushed and drown herself in the local spa’s hot tub.  I am all for promoting self-esteem, but fostering a sense of entitlement to be waited on hand and foot is damaging in the long run.  Perhaps a manicure as a rare treat or in preparation for a special event is okay as many little girls love doing “big girl” things, but having your daughter be accustomed to this sort of treatment on a regular basis will warp her sense of reality.  

On the other hand, I think forbidding your sixteen year old from attending the spa EVER is a little extreme.  Sixteen year olds, while not exactly rational human beings, are capable of recognizing the treatment you receive at a spa as a luxury and not a right.  Being a teenager can be wicked stressful and maybe girls would stop beating each other up and sleeping with their teachers if they got a massage every once in awhile.  Being able to relax is very important when the stress of life as you teeter on the precipice between childhood and adulthood is overwhelming.  This mother’s argument was that spa’s promote an unhealthy expectation of what women should look like, how they should groom themselves for society’s benefit.  I think that a sixteen year old can decide for herself if she wants to get her nails done or have a facial.  I don’t think participating in these activities sparingly will make a teenager think that she has to put this amount of time, effort and money into her appearance on a daily basis.  The teenagers who believe that are going to believe that whether or not they are permitted to indulge in a spa.  

Personally, I’ve never been to a spa per-se and have only had my nails done for the two proms I attended in high school.  However, I can see the benefit of getting pampered and perhaps when I have more discretionary income I will treat myself to such.  But seeing as the economy is being strangled closer and closer to oblivion with each day that passes, I don’t see myself being able to afford this luxury any time soon. 

I read this article about how the color of you car says something about you as a person.

People who own emerald green automobiles, it turns out, have the most positive attitude about the course of their own lives.

Dark blue and silver are other colors chosen by upbeat people.

Red supposedly connotes an aggressive, high-speed personality, while yellow, theoretically, is for folks with sunny dispositions.

I own a yellow car. But, I’d hardly say I have a sunny disposition. FAR FROM IT.

People whose car is:	Have confidence that is:
Emerald green	5.5% above average
Dark blue	3.2% above average
Silver	1.2% above average
White	Average
Sunny yellow	3.7% below average
Orange	4.1% below average
Bright blue	5.5% below average
Bright yellow	8.3% below average
Red	8.8 % below average
Black	14.6% below average

I mean, at least my confidence level is only 3.7% below average, right? Or would my car be classified as “bright yellow” and not “sunny yellow”? In that case, I’m a basket case!

I’d say this is a crock of shit, really. I know plenty of people who completely contradict those results. Who did they poll, anyway? Who are these 1,900 Americans?

Sedate colors, not surprisingly, correlate with consistent moods. But if a primary color suddenly fills your rear-view mirror—well, it’s probably best to get out of the way.

There are better clinical indicators of mental health, needless to say, but Art Spinella of CNW says car color can be a useful “people-matching” tool.

“Your accountant should drive something silver,” he advises.

Interesting.

People whose car is:	Experience:
Black, dark blue, or silver	Consistent moods
White, sunny yellow, or bright blue	Modest mood swings
Orange, red, bright yellow, or emerald green	The most pronounced mood swings

Well, I do have some mood swings when I’m driving, but the severity of the swings depends on the mood I was in prior to the change. Like, if I was pissed off already, chances are you’ll see some road rage! If I was calm, chances are I’ll let most things slide. Maybe.

I was riding the bus the other day when a woman with a baby stroller came on.  Now, there’s a spot RIGHT AT THE FRONT OF THE BUS for people in wheelchairs or for mothers with baby carriages, yet she chose to push the damn this all the way to the middle of the bus, almost cutting some people’s legs off and sneering at them for being in her way.

She settles next to where I’m standing and proceeds to make googoo noises, pull crazy faces and repeatedly CLAP HER HANDS at the poor child staring up at her.  Now, this was one of the youngin’s that I actually like, one that you could tell had a brain because he had intelligent eyes, taking in everything around him, that sort of thing.  No unfocused eyes and drool soaking his shirt, you know?  He was a little older (1? 1 1/2?  Not old enough to talk, but not a newborn, either) with a mat of silky black hair and big blue eyes.

Eyes that were staring at the woman standing over him AS IF SHE WERE CRAZY.

What really caught my attention was the little thing the child was wrapped in.  It looked like a space-aged sleeping bag, made of this shiny, reflective silvery fabric and totally encased the poor child.  He also had on winter clothes.

It was 65°.  It was the middle of MAY.

Then, SHE PROCEEDED TO PUT A WOOL HAT ON HIS HEAD!

The kid actually started whining at that point, I don’t know, maybe because he was fucking HOT?

Are you kidding me with this, lady?  You’re going to boil your poor kid to death with that shit, or else give him heat stroke!  It’s probably your first baby and you just want to be protective, but you need to loosen up a little bit.  Yes, he’s a baby, but he’s still HUMAN.  You’re human, or at least I assume so.  Maybe a sweater would have been okay, but would YOU have wanted to go around that day in a sleeping bag, winter clothes and a wool hat?  COMMON SENSE, please pick some up at your nearest Walgreens.

I have no words…

Okay, I lied… I have words.

Are you fucking kidding me?  This kid stands there, all proud of what he did, thinking he shouldn’t be punished except for NO GAMES FOR THE WEEKEND?  Did you SEE what he did to his grandmother’s SUV?  HE RIPPED THE FRONT AXLE OFF!  Don’t worry about getting arrested, honey, BEAT THAT KID’S ASS!

Oh lord…

Okay, so you all watched American Idol on Tuesday and Wednesday (shut up, I know you did!).  It was a really great night and had some TRULY great performances… and some truly SHITTY ones, too!

The two Davids knocked it out, no one can deny that!  And even, to my chagrin, Syesha did well…  Brooke totally fucks up, has to START OVER, and does a so-so rendition of her song, while Jason Castro… lord, DON’T GET ME STARTED!

Okay, here’s the thing about him.  He always sings these songs and turns them into fireside hippy crap.  You know what I mean, he makes them all sounds the same and all you can do is bob your head along to them.

So, below you will find Brooke and Jason’s performances:

Did he do anything but BREATHE?  I couldn’t get past all of the inhaling and exhaling.  And, it pretty much SUCKED.

Yet, on Wednesday, CARLY GETS ELIMINATED!  Now, I know what happened.  People felt sorry for Brooke (rightfully) and Jason (so WRONGFULLY), and decided to flood in votes because they didn’t think anyone else would.  So, because of that, CARLY and Syesha got in the bottom two!

You watched the above videos, now watch this one…  It’s of Carly singing “Jesus Christ Superstar”!

HOW AWESOME WAS THAT?  Right?  Oy vey.  America, SO got it wrong!

Now we have to go through another week with Jason!  I like Brooke, and think she just had an off night, so I’m glad she wasn’t eliminated.  But JASON!  Pur-LEASE!  GO AWAY ALREADY!

For the hell of it, here are the other three performances…!

(P.S. Robin - I added this post so the next one wouldn’t be the first thing you saw when you visited!)

This morning while I was walking to work (yay sunshine!) I saw one of the most peculiar contraptions ever created for toddlers.  This young mother was pushing her son along on this big wheel bicycle.  Not just helping him along or what have you, but actually pushing the thing along.  There was a tall handle attached to the back that was just at the right height for an adult to grasp.  The kid was sitting on this bike DOING NOTHING!  The peddles just flew round and round as his chubby little legs hung off the sides motionless.  When I passed them, the little kid looked up at me with these round blue eyes as if to say “I’m just as confused as you are!”

If you’re going to transport your kid around town, get a conventional stroller.  Making the process of not walking cool and fun will delay the child’s natural development to being independent and capable of movement on his own for an extended period of time.  No, I don’t have data to support this, but it just seems to make sense to me.  The kid should be ashamed of the stroller.  The kid should want to walk around as soon as it is physically able to keep up pace with its parents.  This desire isn’t going to develop if the kid sees his stroller as a fun toy.  

However, I must admit that if the kid had been actually riding his big wheel down the cobblestone sidewalks of Back Bay I wouldn’t have been too pleased either.  That sort of activity is best reserved for playgrounds and back yards where those of us lucky enough to not be at the having children stage of our lives are not present.  Big wheels are toys and toys do not belong impeding the free flowing traffic of America’s 2nd best Walking City.

Everyone remember the big thing that Dane Cook was able to get over 2 MILLION friends on MySpace?  Well, I was just curious to see what the number was now, and it’s up to 2,352,433.  BUT HALF OF THE PROFILES ARE DELETED.

On the first page of friends alone, 32 out of 40 profiles were deleted.  It gets a little better as you go in, but seriously, he needs to clear out his friends list!  I went through the first ten pages, and there was average of almost 11 people deleted per page.  Over the 58,811 pages of friends he has, that would equal almost 650,000 profiles that have been deleted!  Of course, I didn’t go through every page (that would be STUPID), and I’ll wager that that amount is on the high side, for sure… But still!  It was this BIG THING a while ago, and it’s a LIE.

Clear out your friends list, Dane, so we can get the REAL number!

To check out Dane’s friend list, make sure you’re logged into MySpace, and then click here.  I’m not sure if it’ll work if you don’t have an account, but you can try!

It’s amazing the things you learn about your parents as you grow older.  When you’re younger, you idolize them, think of them as infallable superpeople who are impervious to disease, distruction, and natural disasters alike.

But then they do shit like this.  More specifically, my father…

My parents made an arrangement with my sister that they would pay for her first year of school, so they passed on this offer to me.  They never told me about this, they just started paying it.  After my first year of college, I found out about it and told them to stop paying it.  It was an additional $250 bucks or so a month that they didn’t need to pay, and I knew I was going to have a shitload of debt anyway, and what was another $10,000?

So, a few months later they decided to refinance their mortgage, and pay off all of their credit cards, their cars, and a number of other things so that they would only have one monthly payment.  Sounds fair enough.  But, because I took back the loan, they offered to pay off my car, which was equal to the amount of the loan for my first year of college.  They did this BECAUSE I took back the loan, and was not part of any deal we hatched to exchange loans (this is an important distinction).

I was talking to my father yesterday, and expressing my idea to sell my car to pay off my immediate debt and give me a little cash cushion when I start my life after graduation (which is in 3 weeks!).  Because I am in Boston and the car is in Pennsylvania, I asked him if he would be willing to handle the sale, and I would be willing to give him 5% (which would be at LEAST $500, because I won’t sell the car for less than $10,000).  Sounds like a good deal, right?

He proceeds to tell me that, because he is permanently disabled, there is a way for him to get loans he signed for BEFORE he was permanently disabled forgiven, which would include my first year school loan.  Fantastic!  That would really help me out in the long run, because it would be $10K less that I’d have to worry about repaying!

The next few words out of his mouth were the ones that shocked me.  He claims that, because this loan might be forgiven and they are still paying off the consolidation loan they put my car under, that I should give him $8,000 from the sale of my car.

WHAT?

At first I thought he was joking, but he really wasn’t.  He thinks that, because he is changing the circumstances, that I should just give him $8,000 in cash?  $8,000 that I’m trying to use to start my life debt free?  Remember, my parents were the ones who OFFERED to pay off my car BECAUSE I took back my first year loan… something I did because I was concerned about THEIR finances, with no regard to how it would affect me in the long run.

Wouldn’t you think that any other father would see this as a gift for their child?  What person, in their right mind, would automatically jump to the conclusion that I should just hand over $8,000?

Dad, thanks, but no thanks.  If that’s the price of your GENEROSITY, I think I’ll pass.  I’ll just pay for the loan myself, LIKE I PLANNED TO DO FROM THE BEGINNING.

Rape Worn Not on a Sleeve, but Right Over the Heart

The above link is to a New York Times article about a new t-shirt that has been designed and is starting to be distributed by a prominent activist in the sexual assault awareness movement.  I found it on accident, and was intrigued by the concept, a commercially available t-shirt with a design of a safe open, containing a small handwritten note proclaiming “I was raped.”  Sounds simple, but what would wearing such a shirt actually accomplish?  Do the shirts empower survivors or reinforce stigmas of victimhood?

Would I wear this shirt in public?  Part of me wants to be able to proudly proclaim that I would be able to wear the shirt and bring awareness to the cause.  I think that putting a face to this CRIME is very important when so many survivors are forced into silence and obscurity for a variety of reasons deep seated in how our society deals (and ignores) rape.  However, one of the biggest reasons that it took me nearly eight years to tell my own mother about my rape was because I didn’t want her perception of me to change knowing that I was a victim.  I didn’t want anyone to see me differently, to be labeled as a victim.  This shirt would seemingly be such a label.  If people took it seriously, would they approach me about its content?  Would I be asked to talk about what happened?  Would people that I know who aren’t aware of my past feel hurt that I haven’t confided in them?  Even writing this blog post makes me a bit nervous, simply because it takes the knowledge of what was done to me out of my control and allows anyone who might stumble across this page to learn a very intimate detail of my life.  Would I have the courage to wear a t-shirt proclaiming something that I kept as a dirty, shameful and gut-wrenching secret for so long?  I want to remove the stigma surrounding rape.  I want people to know that rape survivors exist in all segments of society, that you’d never know who has and hasn’t been affected by this issue.  But am I willing to sacrifice my own anonymity and relative comfort to educate others?  Is that a fair trade?  

I have not yet been able to find specific information about how to purchase one of these shirts, but if I did I think I would be compelled enough to get one in my possession.  Deciding where and when to wear it would be a battle, but I believe that I deserve the option.  I think that no one has the right to tell me that I can’t wear the shirt because people who see it might be made uncomfortable.  The concept that rape needs to be kept secret, that it’s not polite to discuss it in public, needs to be deconstructed and proved illogical and harmful.  Would people get that message from seeing those three little words emblazoned across my chest?  Or would I simply be whispered about behind my back and made to feel even more ostracized and ignored?  

Some people that know me might be surprised that I’d have reservations about wearing such a shirt because I have a tattoo that pretty much proclaims in picture form this very sentiment.  On my left ankle I have a teal ribbon with a safety pin.  Teal ribbons are (among other causes) used for sexual assault awareness.  Because April is sexual assault awareness month, I have started to see these ribbons in various places and am reminded of my tattoo’s importance both in my life and in starting important conversations.  Because Boston is still so damn cold, no one really can see the tattoo at this point, but this summer will be the first full shorts wearing season that I have the tattoo and I wonder if I will get asked about it.  A tattoo is obviously more of a commitment than a t-shirt, I will have this picture of the cause on my skin forever.  My reasons for getting it were rather impulsive: I was fed up with the destruction that my recovery has caused and I wanted a symbol of healing and hope that I could look at whenever I wished, that I would be forced to carry with me at all times.  I am proud of my tattoo, but I must say that there are reasons I didn’t get it in a place that would be visible all year round.  Having the ability to easily cover it up was important, not because I am ashamed of it, but because I am not always in the mood to talk about the issue.  Perhaps this is how I would have to see the t-shirt, something I could wear when and where I would feel comfortable potentially being asked to discuss the topic.  

Here is a picture of my tattoo:

 

In short, I have very personal opinions that cannot be separated from this issue.  I just find it interesting that so many people have an issue with this t-shirt.  I guess people don’t like it when their norms are tested.