a two-year old girl whose legs were accidentlly severed in a lwnmower accident received new legs today.
CNN headline reads - Girl gets a leg up
Dude.
Not funny.
Who proof-reads this shit?
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Gloria, where did you put the keys to the Uhaul?
On Wednesday, Tara (the roommate) and I moved all of our shit (pardon the expletive, but after packing, moving and unloading everything I own, I am so sick of it all that shit seemed like the most fitting description) from the old apartment to the new one (about a quarter of a mile distance.)
I am never moving again.
Seriously.
Feminism was the order of the day. At 9am I picked up the 14 foot Uhaul. Had I ever driven anything that gigantic before? No. Was I sure that I could handle it? Hell fuckin’ yeah. The older lady who worked the counter at the Uhaul place took me outside to show me some things about the truck, since this my first time. She showed me the latch contraption in t
he back and said, “Don’t worry about this, honey; I am sure you’re husband or boyfriend will know how it works.” I just looked at her. Lady, if I had a husband and/or boyfriend overseeing this operation, do you think he would have sent the little woman to go pick up the freakin’ Uhaul? What about my lesbian lover? Will she know how it works? I was irritated, but not daunted. Today, feminism would win out. Today, we women would prove that we do not need men to unlatch our Uhauls. Period.
I did do a great job driving the Uhaul, if I don’t mind saying so myself. By about noon I had pretty much perfected the art of backing it up into a parking space perfectly straight. I am very proud of this little accomplishment, if you can’t tell. One comment about Uhauls – the mirrors are worthless. I’m not exactly sure what they are supposed to be used for, but you can’t see anything. Eh, I never really use the mirrors anyway. But ultimately, I felt very empowered by the whole experience.
For the most part, Tara and I did the move ourselves. Our friend Jordan came over and helped us in the morning with the three or four pieces of furniture that physically could not be moved without a third person. But then, for the next few hours Tara and I worked alone, loading box after box after random piece of furniture on the U-haul. We were soldiers. We were proving that we didn’t need men. We were independent and self-reliant. We were women, hear us roar. We were fucking exhausted.
By about 2pm, we had one last load of the u-haul to unload at the new apartment. By this time, morale was low. My feet hurt (flip flops = bad moving shoes). My back hurt. The roommates were getting on each others nerves. It was a thousand degrees outside. All we had the strength to carry was a toaster here and a throw pillow there. And then – our salvation. Out of nowhere swooped in two middle-aged gentlemen from across the street. Immediately, they began picking up bookcases and boxes and filing cabinets. At this point, the feminist in me was too tired to protest. We were saved. Thank goodness for men – big, strong, strapping men who can unload the entire contents of a U-haul in less than fifteen minutes.
It was an important lesson. As much as I wish to be free from the aid of men, I have to admit that there are times when they are needed. (Moving day, when the batteries in Mr. Dependable are dead, etc.) A friend of mine once told me that there is no “battle of the sexes.” There is no war. We are all on the same team and need to learn to work together. I am not sure if I buy this touchy-feely take on gender relations, but I see his point.
As for my feminist notions, I don’t feel they were compromised at all by allowing men to rescue us in our hour of need. We put in a valiant effort and managed to do about 75% of the work on our own. 75% is totally a passing grade. A bad grade, but passing nonetheless.
I am never moving again.
Seriously.
Feminism was the order of the day. At 9am I picked up the 14 foot Uhaul. Had I ever driven anything that gigantic before? No. Was I sure that I could handle it? Hell fuckin’ yeah. The older lady who worked the counter at the Uhaul place took me outside to show me some things about the truck, since this my first time. She showed me the latch contraption in t
he back and said, “Don’t worry about this, honey; I am sure you’re husband or boyfriend will know how it works.” I just looked at her. Lady, if I had a husband and/or boyfriend overseeing this operation, do you think he would have sent the little woman to go pick up the freakin’ Uhaul? What about my lesbian lover? Will she know how it works? I was irritated, but not daunted. Today, feminism would win out. Today, we women would prove that we do not need men to unlatch our Uhauls. Period.I did do a great job driving the Uhaul, if I don’t mind saying so myself. By about noon I had pretty much perfected the art of backing it up into a parking space perfectly straight. I am very proud of this little accomplishment, if you can’t tell. One comment about Uhauls – the mirrors are worthless. I’m not exactly sure what they are supposed to be used for, but you can’t see anything. Eh, I never really use the mirrors anyway. But ultimately, I felt very empowered by the whole experience.
For the most part, Tara and I did the move ourselves. Our friend Jordan came over and helped us in the morning with the three or four pieces of furniture that physically could not be moved without a third person. But then, for the next few hours Tara and I worked alone, loading box after box after random piece of furniture on the U-haul. We were soldiers. We were proving that we didn’t need men. We were independent and self-reliant. We were women, hear us roar. We were fucking exhausted.
By about 2pm, we had one last load of the u-haul to unload at the new apartment. By this time, morale was low. My feet hurt (flip flops = bad moving shoes). My back hurt. The roommates were getting on each others nerves. It was a thousand degrees outside. All we had the strength to carry was a toaster here and a throw pillow there. And then – our salvation. Out of nowhere swooped in two middle-aged gentlemen from across the street. Immediately, they began picking up bookcases and boxes and filing cabinets. At this point, the feminist in me was too tired to protest. We were saved. Thank goodness for men – big, strong, strapping men who can unload the entire contents of a U-haul in less than fifteen minutes.
It was an important lesson. As much as I wish to be free from the aid of men, I have to admit that there are times when they are needed. (Moving day, when the batteries in Mr. Dependable are dead, etc.) A friend of mine once told me that there is no “battle of the sexes.” There is no war. We are all on the same team and need to learn to work together. I am not sure if I buy this touchy-feely take on gender relations, but I see his point.
As for my feminist notions, I don’t feel they were compromised at all by allowing men to rescue us in our hour of need. We put in a valiant effort and managed to do about 75% of the work on our own. 75% is totally a passing grade. A bad grade, but passing nonetheless.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Goal for Fall....
Summer is almost over and as I sit here thinking about things that have happened to me in the past year, I realize that I need to set a few new goals for this year - goals that apply to every area of my life.
1) I will stop chasing after that which is unattainable.
2) I will be the best I am capable of being in everythng.
3) I will be content with my best.
1) I will stop chasing after that which is unattainable.
2) I will be the best I am capable of being in everythng.
3) I will be content with my best.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Too Soon.
I keep seeing the previews for World Trade Center, and am continually disgusted. I don’t know; it just seems wrong to me. Honestly, for artists/movie producers, it’s cheating. It’s one thing to take an older historical event like WW2 or the Civil
War about which most of us do not have strong emotional feelings, or to take a story most people are unfamiliar with and cause us to feel emotions about that event. That is art – a true accomplishment. But to just play off of the emotions already present in the national conscience surrounding a devastating event like 9-11 to sell your movie seems cheap. The movie won’t have to work to get us to feel – we already do. The wounds are still that deep and permeating. If World Trade Center were to come out in 50 years and cause audiences to cry and feel emotions that they didn’t have before, then it would be an accomplishment.
Your thoughts?
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Nostalgia and Rantings about Free Speech...
*looking back over MySpace this morning, I ran across some of my first blog entries and decided to trasfer them to this blog. A sort of house-keeping chore, if you will. The following blog entries were the first three I wrote. This one was the first, written last June. Awww..... :)
Dare I blog after all the crap I've talked about bloggers? I think the CNN blog coverage initially turned me off to the whole notion. I mean why do we need cute, 20-something women searching the internet for normal people’s opinions about world events instead of actually covering real news? Perhaps journalists have just gotten that lazy...
On the other hand, Blogging is the epitome of free speech. Here I am, a virtual nobody who, through the wonders of modern technology, can have my views posted for all the world to see. Will anyone read this? No. But that’s not the point. The point is, I can bitch about whatever global injustice I desire and feel like I have been heard. If nothing else, free speech may prove therapeutic. The sad part is that there is no spell-check on this program so I’m forced to type this in word and then copy-paste it, or else look like a total idiot... and since I’m hopeful that at least one person will read my deranged rantings, I guess it’s worth the effort. Hmmm.... It apppears rantings is not a word... damn spellcheck....
Note: I should point out that I realize this is not what the founding fathers meant by free speech. They invisioned free speach for rich, white males not poor, white women.. or anyone else, for that matter. But fortunately, the founding fathers are all dead, and what's more, it doesnt matter what they intended. The miracle of the constitution is that somehow a group of somewhat well-meaning men, despite their intolorance, racism, sexism, and any other ism we can think of, managed to capture truths beyond themselves. Hopefully, in 200 years, people will be able to say the same of today's leaders...
Dare I blog after all the crap I've talked about bloggers? I think the CNN blog coverage initially turned me off to the whole notion. I mean why do we need cute, 20-something women searching the internet for normal people’s opinions about world events instead of actually covering real news? Perhaps journalists have just gotten that lazy...
On the other hand, Blogging is the epitome of free speech. Here I am, a virtual nobody who, through the wonders of modern technology, can have my views posted for all the world to see. Will anyone read this? No. But that’s not the point. The point is, I can bitch about whatever global injustice I desire and feel like I have been heard. If nothing else, free speech may prove therapeutic. The sad part is that there is no spell-check on this program so I’m forced to type this in word and then copy-paste it, or else look like a total idiot... and since I’m hopeful that at least one person will read my deranged rantings, I guess it’s worth the effort. Hmmm.... It apppears rantings is not a word... damn spellcheck....
Note: I should point out that I realize this is not what the founding fathers meant by free speech. They invisioned free speach for rich, white males not poor, white women.. or anyone else, for that matter. But fortunately, the founding fathers are all dead, and what's more, it doesnt matter what they intended. The miracle of the constitution is that somehow a group of somewhat well-meaning men, despite their intolorance, racism, sexism, and any other ism we can think of, managed to capture truths beyond themselves. Hopefully, in 200 years, people will be able to say the same of today's leaders...
Gloria - Let's work on mastering power tools. As for the bra burning, I'm rather fond of mine...
*origionally posted on My Space last summer.
I consider myself an intelligent woman. My new roommate, Tara, is also brilliant and independent. In this modern age, we have managed to carve out an existence, attend school, work, and take care of out basic, Maslow-ian needs without actually needing the help of a man. Gloria Steinem would be proud. Yet despite our seeming self-reliance, yesterday evening we found ourselves helplessly lost when it came to figuring out how to use the cordless drill. Surely it can’t be that complicated. Why is it that I, a liberated, lip-stick feminist who has tried and tried to shatter gender roles and stereotypes since my adolescence, was unable to figure out where to put the bits or comprehend the function of the little, round, hollow, silvery pieces. Do my twenty-something male counterparts call their daddies and little brothers when they need to hang curtains or when something goes wrong with their cars? I seriously doubt it. So then, why do women end up having to rely on men in their adulthood?
Maybe the problem lies in childhood. Looking back, I do not remember being taught how to use an electric drill. My father, probably one of the least sexist men I know, did, however, involve me in “manly” projects around the house. I helped drain the brake fluid once, rotate tires, and build the screened-in porch. But these were special occasions and ones in which I did not play a major role. Maybe I just didn’t receive the same kind of experiences as a child that boys do. Maybe the toys I played with as a child, unlike my brother’s, failed to develop in me a love for electronics and power tools. Or maybe just the fact that my father was the only person in our family who tended to matters involving drills and tools and automotives led me to develop a mental set of duties for female that did not include such items. Perhaps many women are simply disadvantaged by well-intentioned family members who do not understand the psychological impact of their actions.
However, it has occurred to me that this explanation, while likely true to some extent, is an over-played copout. I have also considered the possibility that we women do this to ourselves because we are lazy. Case in point: instead of actually mowing the lawn, I would rather pay the neighbor boy 20 bucks to do it. Is it that I am incapable? No. As a teacher, I never did any heavy lifting and instead would ask some helpful, male student to do it for me. Was I too weak to do it myself? No. Why learn to mount my own curtain rods when I can just bat my eyelashes, play the helpless maiden and get some man to do it for me? We all know the dirty little trick men play – when asked to do something they deem unpleasant they intentionally fuck it up so as to never be asked again. This way, we deem them too incompetent to take care of menial tasks such as cooking, grocery shopping, packing the kids’ lunches, and folding laundry. But perhaps we, ladies, do the same detestable thing when we play too frail or too silly to work the drill, use a hammer, or lift a box, and too ditzy to learn how to change our own oil or to understand an automobile manual. Sure, it’s easier to let someone do it for us. But in the end, we are the ones who lose out. We throw away what could be true independence and equality because we are too lazy to fend for ourselves.
What am I going to do about this? I don’t know. The first thing I am going to do is sit back and enjoy the curtain rods I mounted, despite their many imperfections, reveling in the facts that I did it myself and that next time I won’t have to call my dad to figure out how to get the drywall anchor actually into the hole I just drilled in the wall. Then, I’m going to check out a book from the library on cars so that the next time I hear a funny noise, I can have a basic idea of what might be wrong instead of being at the total mercy of my mechanic. In the end, making the effort itself is half the battle.
The Truth Will Set You Free....
*this entry was origionally posted on MySpace last summer....
Prerequisite for this entry:
Bloggers Learn the Price of Telling Too Much
The above article is an interesting piece I found today on CNN. For those of you too lazy to actually read it, the overall message is that young people are irresponsibly fond of the truth, god forbid, and are shamelessly posting things about their personal lives online, for all to see, instead of being secretive and ashamed of everything they do. For example, Alan Keyes’ daughter dared to disclose her sexual orientation on her blog during her father’s political campaign! Gasp! Didn’t she realize that her right to be open about her sexuality was going to bite her conservative, homophobic father in the ass? These young people today… Not wanting to lie and hide the truth about themselves and what they think in order to save face and gain political power… how selfish…
"I would bet that in the 2016 election, somebody's Facebook entry will come back to bite them," the article quotes. Hmmm… that’s right. People talk about drinking and drugs and sexuality on their blogs. Gasp! And we all know that all politicians have the highest of moral standards. I mean I bet none of them have ever done anything like use drugs or have premarital sex or cheat on a spouse or have internet sex with an underage boy. Of course not.
Now obviously, posting your phone number or address or making libelous accusations about your ex-best friend is probably not a good idea. But when did honesty cease to be the best policy? Let’s take Bill Clinton as a case study (clearly an example of someone who was afraid to tell the truth.) Had he just come clean in the first place about his little White House romp, I think a lot of trouble could have been averted. Or better yet, what would have happened if he had come out in the beginning and said “So, me and Hil have an open marriage based on our work and political partnership. I schlep around with any young thing in a skirt I can get my hands on and she’s fine with it.”
Why couldn’t he have told the truth about smoking pot? I mean seriously, does anyone actually believe he didn’t inhale? What a gianourmous crock of shit. Even if that were true he should be lambasted for wasting weed! I hear that is a major party fowl. Why couldn’t he have said, “Yeah, like millions of other Americans I smoked pot during the sixties and seventies? This is what I did then and why. This is what I do now and why.”
My question is: do Americans truly expect each other to maintain the standards that we are all lying to uphold? Would we have voted for (insert favorite politician here) if they hadn’t lied about whatever it is they lied about in order to get elected. Do we need the lie in order to give ourselves an out, to continue the facade we’ve created? I don’t think we truly believe that everyone lives the cookie-cutter life they pretend to live, and yet, maybe we can’t bare the truth of it all, and so we need them to lie.
My other, less complex theory is that the politicians do it to themselves. If they would just be honest from the beginning, it wouldn’t be a big deal. I mean, I think most Americans are sensible enough to realize that people are all the same and they should be straightforward. Perhaps they would even respect it. No one could blackmail you or expose your dirty secrets to the tabloids if you were honest about it in the first place. Maybe all the lying and covering up sensationalizes the issue, kind of like real-estate inflation. At first, the “indiscretion” would have cost around $80,000, a reasonable price considering… but because of all the hype and secrecy and attention, the public begins to think it’s worth more and more and more and then next thing you know your piece of shit “indiscretion” in the middle of nowhere is gonna cost you half a million dollars. If only you’d just paid the price in the beginning before letting things get out of hand. Get my point?
The rest of the world needs to stop telling us that who we are and what we do is wrong and shameful and unique to us and should be hidden from society. I refuse to lie about anything that I have done. It doesn’t define me. It won’t control me. Will I have to answer lots of questions about why my car was frequently parked at Pamela’s lingerie and porn shop between the years of 2003 and 2005 when I run for president? Probably. But when the American people hear the amazing deal I was getting on indoor tanning, I really think they will understand. The truth, after all, will set you free.
Prerequisite for this entry:
Bloggers Learn the Price of Telling Too Much
The above article is an interesting piece I found today on CNN. For those of you too lazy to actually read it, the overall message is that young people are irresponsibly fond of the truth, god forbid, and are shamelessly posting things about their personal lives online, for all to see, instead of being secretive and ashamed of everything they do. For example, Alan Keyes’ daughter dared to disclose her sexual orientation on her blog during her father’s political campaign! Gasp! Didn’t she realize that her right to be open about her sexuality was going to bite her conservative, homophobic father in the ass? These young people today… Not wanting to lie and hide the truth about themselves and what they think in order to save face and gain political power… how selfish…
"I would bet that in the 2016 election, somebody's Facebook entry will come back to bite them," the article quotes. Hmmm… that’s right. People talk about drinking and drugs and sexuality on their blogs. Gasp! And we all know that all politicians have the highest of moral standards. I mean I bet none of them have ever done anything like use drugs or have premarital sex or cheat on a spouse or have internet sex with an underage boy. Of course not.
Now obviously, posting your phone number or address or making libelous accusations about your ex-best friend is probably not a good idea. But when did honesty cease to be the best policy? Let’s take Bill Clinton as a case study (clearly an example of someone who was afraid to tell the truth.) Had he just come clean in the first place about his little White House romp, I think a lot of trouble could have been averted. Or better yet, what would have happened if he had come out in the beginning and said “So, me and Hil have an open marriage based on our work and political partnership. I schlep around with any young thing in a skirt I can get my hands on and she’s fine with it.”
Why couldn’t he have told the truth about smoking pot? I mean seriously, does anyone actually believe he didn’t inhale? What a gianourmous crock of shit. Even if that were true he should be lambasted for wasting weed! I hear that is a major party fowl. Why couldn’t he have said, “Yeah, like millions of other Americans I smoked pot during the sixties and seventies? This is what I did then and why. This is what I do now and why.”
My question is: do Americans truly expect each other to maintain the standards that we are all lying to uphold? Would we have voted for (insert favorite politician here) if they hadn’t lied about whatever it is they lied about in order to get elected. Do we need the lie in order to give ourselves an out, to continue the facade we’ve created? I don’t think we truly believe that everyone lives the cookie-cutter life they pretend to live, and yet, maybe we can’t bare the truth of it all, and so we need them to lie.
My other, less complex theory is that the politicians do it to themselves. If they would just be honest from the beginning, it wouldn’t be a big deal. I mean, I think most Americans are sensible enough to realize that people are all the same and they should be straightforward. Perhaps they would even respect it. No one could blackmail you or expose your dirty secrets to the tabloids if you were honest about it in the first place. Maybe all the lying and covering up sensationalizes the issue, kind of like real-estate inflation. At first, the “indiscretion” would have cost around $80,000, a reasonable price considering… but because of all the hype and secrecy and attention, the public begins to think it’s worth more and more and more and then next thing you know your piece of shit “indiscretion” in the middle of nowhere is gonna cost you half a million dollars. If only you’d just paid the price in the beginning before letting things get out of hand. Get my point?
The rest of the world needs to stop telling us that who we are and what we do is wrong and shameful and unique to us and should be hidden from society. I refuse to lie about anything that I have done. It doesn’t define me. It won’t control me. Will I have to answer lots of questions about why my car was frequently parked at Pamela’s lingerie and porn shop between the years of 2003 and 2005 when I run for president? Probably. But when the American people hear the amazing deal I was getting on indoor tanning, I really think they will understand. The truth, after all, will set you free.
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