Chick Stuff - Set Lasers to STUN

Thursday, September 30, 2010
First, the requisite manly image for my male readers:


That's right. An M1 Abrams tank. I don't care who you are - that's some manly shit right there.

COMMENCE CHICK STUFF.

I have an appointment tomorrow at our local "anti-aging spa." I'm having some spider veins zapped with a laser, and beginning the process of removal for one of my tattoos. The spider veins shouldn't take too many treatments - the areas are less than the size of quarter each, and I'm getting it done before they turn huge and ugly. The tattoo, however, is probably going to take six (or more, probably more) treatments. 

I'm not complaining about the course of treatment. I knew when I got it that tattoos were PERMANENT and that having it removed would be costly and probably painful. I just have the horrifying feeling that each treatment is going to be more painful than the last, and I'll end up giving up at the mid-point. While I don't care for the tattoo anymore, I don't want it replaced with a big smudgy mess, either.

I suppose I'll just have to commit to finishing the treatment before I start it. Wish me luck, fellow Hot Chicks.

The Good Ole Days

Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Recently I got an e:mail from my 2nd-cousin-twice-removed-in-law Joe. He was asking if I'd seen that Red Skelton YouTube video where Red talks about the Pledge of Allegiance, and noted that the comments surrounding that bit were usually along the lines of "this country needs to get back to the way it used to be." Joe was trying to figure out exactly which used to be they are thinking about. The 50's? The 60's? And he wanted to know what my thoughts were.

Well, far be it from me to let an opportunity go to waste to spout my opinion about how fucked up the American public is, so that's the subject of today's blog post, with a hat tip to Cousin Joe for the inspiration.

What, exactly, are the "Good Ole Days," and why do people long for them? What's so great about how things used to be compared to today's social construct that we should shuck progress in favor of going backwards?

Are the Good Ole Days the time before germ theory, when getting an infection was basically a death sentence, and a young girl's fantasy consisted of making it out childbirth alive? No?

Okay, then how about the turn of the century, when social welfare programs were non-existent and losing your job and your home basically condemned you and your children to death by exposure and hunger? How about those? Were those the Good Ole Days? No?

Well, then, surely the middle of the century were the Good Ole Days. The G.I. Bill allowed an enormous number of veterans to achieve the American Dream, owning their own homes and becoming members of the middle class. That was a great time to be alive!

....Unless, of course, you were a person of color, and the simple acts of voting or getting a decent education were acts of courage and conviction. Those weren't really the Good Ole Days for African Americans living the Jim Crow South, now were they?

I've noticed that people who engage in the "this country needs to get back to the way it used to be" rhetoric are usually the ones who also engage in "America! Fuck, Yeah!" patriotism. And, yes, I'm going to say it - I strongly suspect they're also the ones that perceive the "Good Ole Days" to be a time when them uppity colored folks knew their place and stayed there.

Now I'm certainly not suggesting that waxing nostalgic for years past automatically makes you a racist asshat. Far from it. But I do think that such rhetoric is often used as code for racist opinion, and I'd almost rather they just came right out and said, "I hate that my unearned privilege is being threatened by an egalitarian social structure and I wish those colored folk were still second class citizens." But that's not how people's brains work, and such self-honesty is a rare, rare thing.

Progress is GOOD. It means that no one has to die from an infection, thanks to the discoveries made possible by the Theory of Evolution leading to modern antibiotics. It means that everyone gets a chance to educate themselves and move up (or down) the economic ladder depending on how hard they work and their own ability. It means that people who are "different" from the majority aren't ridiculed, aren't discriminated against, aren't deprived of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Based on our country's values and founding documents, these benefits must apply to everyone. Everyone, including people of color, and the LGBT population, and people whose religion isn't the same as the majority. Not just affluent Christian white folks, like in the GOOD OLE DAYS.

That's progress, and even if you mistakenly think your unearned privilege is your Constitutional right, you don't get to enjoy modern antibiotics, social welfare programs, and all the other wonders of our modern life and world without accepting the accompanying social progress, as well.

Some people may want to go back to dying of amoebic dysentery, but me? I'll keep looking forward, thanks.

Sexism? What Sexism? I Don't See Any Sexism Here...

Tuesday, September 28, 2010
I work in a male dominated field. This has been the case my whole life, and since I came of age in the environment of a pre-Tailhook U.S. Navy culture*, I have to say that my perception of sexism is a bit skewed.

In a lot of cases, I just don't notice sexism. I just don't. You'd think that coming of age in and working in male dominated fields my whole life would have made me more aware of sexism in the workplace, but it doesn't. Often I'm treated in a way that can easily be construed as sexist, and I attribute the behavior to other factors (like the person in question is just a generic jerk, rather than a sexist jerk). This has happened often enough, and the occasions have been pointed out to me by men often enough, that I think I see a trend.

It's not that I don't see or react to overt acts of sexism. When someone implies that my ladybrain is unsuited to the engineering tasks I've been assigned, I'm quick to note that they deserve a whack in the face with the Shovel of Doom™. When someone says that the reason women aren't in more leadership positions within an industry is because women just "don't have what it takes," I'm first in line to punch them in the throat. It's the more subtle forms of sexism that seem to elude me, such as the fact that I always seem to be the team member who's assigned administrative tasks, or the fact that it's never assumed that I might be the technical subject matter expert in a meeting (and I almost always am). It didn't even occur to me until THIS YEAR to find out if there were any women in leadership positions in my division (there aren't) or to determine what the percentage of engineering roles in my division are filled by women (8%).
 
I've been trying to determine what causes this situational blindness, and I think it's a case of what's normal to me. Just as laying awake at night for hours on end was my old "normal" for sleep, and I learned how to cope with an inadequate sleep schedule, I think I've never really had prolonged access to a work place or industry that was without significant amounts of sexism. Since that's the only thing I've ever been exposed to, it's "normal" to me, and I don't attribute marginalization to sexism.

This isn't okay.

Aside from the fact that I'm not seeing reality for what it is (cognitive dissonance FTW!), it means that I'm not accurately judging the behavior of other people in my professional life. It means that I don't have a true understanding of the men with whom I work, and how they look at the world. It makes my own judgment of interpersonal relationships suspect.

But I don't know how to fix this blind spot. I don't want to run around accusing generic asshats of being sexist asshats without sufficient observational proof to justify such an opinion. On the other hand, I'm not really interested in letting them get away with it anymore.



______
*209 years of Naval tradition unhindered by progress, basically.

The Help

Monday, September 27, 2010
I don't typically write about or review the books I read or listen to. Although I love to read, this blog really isn't about books, and I don't want to feel obligated to talk about everything I finish. In this case, though, I'm totally making an exception.

I've been listening to The Help by freshman writer Kathryn Stockett for the last week or so. From Amazon:
Eugenia Skeeter Phelan is just home from college in 1962, and, anxious to become a writer, is advised to hone her chops by writing about what disturbs you. The budding social activist begins to collect the stories of the black women on whom the country club sets relies and mistrusts enlisting the help of Aibileen, a maid who's raised 17 children, and Aibileen's best friend Minny, who's found herself unemployed more than a few times after mouthing off to her white employers. The book Skeeter puts together based on their stories is scathing and shocking, bringing pride and hope to the black community, while giving Skeeter the courage to break down her personal boundaries and pursue her dreams.
I have enjoyed this book IMMENSELY. The actors they hired to narrate the points of view (Skeeter, Aibileen and Minny) were outstanding, and their ability to bring the various southern dialects to life in the recording were exemplary. I think this is one of those instances where the audio version of the book brings something extra and special to the story.


I loved this book. Love, love, love. The author obviously has an intimate knowledge and understanding of the strange relationships between southern white women and the black maids who spent their lives serving them and raising their children. The shape of the story was delicious, and the evolution of the three main characters was fulfilling and realistic. Their journeys from acceptance, to anger, to courage was inspiring, and the true revelation of what the deep south was like during the civil rights movement was disturbing. Incredibly, all the horrible things that happen to the various characters ends in a conclusion that's hopeful, and new, and amazing.

I love books that demonstrate the resiliency of the human spirit, and show us that we can be more than we thought possible. Do yourself a favor and read this book. Or better yet - listen to it. You won't be sorry.

2010 Flower Pr0n - San Diego Edition

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Boogie Blogging Friday - Nice Day Edition

Friday, September 24, 2010

It's a nice day here in sunny Colorado, so the Boogie-Dog has been meandering in and out, enjoying the sun. Until he gets too hot, and then he demands to come back in for a snack. 

It's a dog's life.

SleepWin!

Thursday, September 23, 2010
So after bitching and crying about my insomnia for the last ten years or so, I finally took up NeuronDoc's offer to discuss the matter on the phone. As her name implies, NeuronDoc is a neurologist. She made sure I was aware (in no uncertain terms) that chronic sleep deprivation is NOT OKAY and causes all sorts of troubling results from both a physical and emotional point of view. She made a few suggestions and STRONGLY SUGGESTED* that I make an appointment with my doctor to discuss the matter, with another STRONG SUGGESTION* that if I didn't get appropriate answers from my GP to insist on a neurology consult.

So I did as NeuronDoc ordered...er, suggested, and made an appointment with my GP. I explained all the contributing factors and symptoms to my GP, and also told her how apprehensive I was about taking prescription "sleep aids." It is my belief that regardless of what the pharmaceutical companies claim about the habit-forming potential of such medications, they're addictive, period. With my highly addictive personality, such a course of action is most definitely NOT for me.

To my very pleasant surprise, my GP agreed with me about the sleep aid meds (even commenting that addiction to Ambien is the most common addiction in her practice), and essentially decided on the same course of action that NeuronDoc recommended:
  • Full metabolic panel to determine if there might be a physical cause for my insomnia.
  • A very low prescription for Trazodone, an anti-depression/anti-anxiety medication to help me sleep through the night.
  • A referral to mental health to see why I can't sleep through the night without help.
It turns out there aren't any metabolic issues, so apparently it's all in my head (bazinga!). The Trazodone is working exactly as intended, and with the exception of two or three nights, I have slept through the night consistently since starting the med. And today is my first appointment to get my head shrunk.

I can't tell you how much better I feel. As I explained to Mechanicky Gal, not getting enough sleep on a regular basis was my "normal," and I had learned how to cope. But (as emphasized by NeuronDoc), spending a portion of each sleep cycle wide awake and laying there is NOT NORMAL. And SHOULD BE TREATED.

Thanks, NeuronDoc. You gave me just the kick I needed to get this under control, and I owe you some sushi the next time we're in the same vicinity.


____________
*Okay, she was being a pushy broad. But in a good way - this is her area of expertise, after all, and she knows far more about it than me. Plus there's the whole "why have you suffered needlessly for ten years" dynamic.

On the Accumulation of Shit

Wednesday, September 22, 2010
The Smart Man and I aren't really hoarders. Years of military life (and its requisite moves) have made us a bit ruthless when it comes to deciding what to keep and what to get rid of. We make it a practice to clean out our storage areas about once every 18-24 months, reexamining boxes and making fresh "keep or ditch" decisions each time. We don't have goat paths in our house, and we both prefer an uncluttered living space.

This weekend we'll be in the middle of one of our periodic storage clean-ups, and I have to ask - where the hell did all this shit come from? Some of it I get - when I cleaned out my work cube before moving to my home office full time, I had to bring all my cubical detritus with me. My expense reports had to be retained for seven years, and I still had files of them from when we faxed receipts instead of doing everything on-line.* Christmas decorations and such have to be stored somewhere during the off season.

But the rest? I have no frickin' idea how all this crap ended up in the basement storage area. When you have to move every few years, it forces you to go through everything on a regular basis and weight restrictions on what you're allowed to move tends to keep the junk down to a dull roar. But I've lived here in the Big Yellow House longer than I've anywhere except the house where I grew up, and I've found that junk tends to spread, like mold.

Sometimes I feel like living in the same house for many years means a constant state of vigilance against the accumulation of shit. Get thee behind me, junk!

_______________
*With the exception of the few arts & crafts projects my kids made ("gummy lumps" in family parlance) I threw all that shit AWAY. Including the crystal statuettes given to me by my company as various awards. I suspect some of those would make good home defense weapons in the bludgeoning department, but at this point they don't mean much to me for any other reason.

No Earthly Reason

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

I have no earthly reason to love this video so much. But I do. I suspect anyone who wasn't one of the "cool kids" during their younger years probably feels the same.

I Are Smart

Monday, September 20, 2010
Or at least I'm trying to get there.

I have training for the next three days, which starts at 6:30 a.m. Getting up that early and not having time to exercise tends to make me grumpy, so I doubt you'll be getting much FABULOUS and SCINTILLATING content from me this week. I'll try not to spend the three days being a whiny git, as that doesn't sound too entertaining, so it's likely to be a thin week here at HCDSM.

Ye Olde 2010 Flower Pr0n - San Diego Edition, Ar!

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Ar! Admire the beauty of the flowers, matey, or walk the plank! Pass the grog! Ar!

For Shawn - A Manly, Manly Truck

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Satisfied?

Chick Stuff

I've been using the same mascara since I was approximately 14 years old, so recently I decided to see if another product might do me a bit better. Coincidentally, a work-mate of the The Mechanicky Gal recommended this new Maybelline product called Stiletto. ZOMG, this mascara is the shit. All you gals run right out and buy some IMMEDIATELY.

So you all know we recently got the floors replaced in the kitchen and bathrooms. And they looked so FABULOUS that it immediately became apparent that we needed to paint, and right this minute. The joys of home ownership.

So we've been painting one room a month, and doing some minor remodel work at the same time like window treatments and such. So far we've completed the two upstairs bathrooms and the kitchen, and this weekend we're doing the family room. Next month will be the Smart Boy's old room, and November we'll do the master bedroom.

Except I'm kind of stuck on the master bedroom.

Here's the master bath, which is painted a light aqua color. The shower curtain is a quilted, striped affair with a variety of complementary colors. We really like it, but it's making choosing a color for the master bedroom problematic. Brown is out, as the Smart Man makes a Calvin face every time I suggest it, and a darker shade of aqua would probably be just TOO MUCH. So I'm looking for suggestions on what to paint the bedroom that isn't yellow, doesn't make us feel like we're trapped in a Disney movie and doesn't give the Smart Man the Calvin face. Suggestions, Hot Chicks (and Smart Men, if you care) - I need them.

Boogie Blogging Friday Featuring Demento Dog

Friday, September 17, 2010

"...."

"What's that clicking noise? STOP IT. Or I'll CUT YOU."

I swear, Jakey is the strangest little dog.

The Dark Side, Join It I Have

Thursday, September 16, 2010
I've been a front line sales associate for my company for over ten years. During that time, I have fiercely resisted the temptation to integrate my mobile phone into my work applications. I never wanted to be one of those people - you know the ones. The ones who were constantly checking their Blackberries because THE WORLD IS CLEARLY GOING TO END IF THEY DON'T STAY TETHERED TO THE COMPANY NETWORK FOR EVERY SECOND OF EVERY DAY, INCLUDING VACATION DAYS. I never saw the point of that behavior. When I'm working, I try to give good value for the money my company pays me, but the idea of being constantly tethered to my e:mail and company phone number made my skin crawl.

But last night I finally relented and had my cell number changed to a Blackberry Storm with a data plan and this morning I put a request into IT to have my company's mobility application integrated to my number. But not e:mail. I still don't want my work e:mail to come to my personal mobile device.

::cue ominous music::


The reason I'm using the Smart Man's old Blackberry because this is a test. I'm counting on my meat friends to give me a good kick in the pants if I fail to maintain my boundaries with this new gadgetry, and if work starts to encroach on my downtime, I'll be disconnecting the damn data plan and the work application forthwith. If it turns out that I like having the integration, then I'll use my "free" upgrade and get the latest and greatest device.

Now get off my lawn...

I Wish I Was an Oscar Meyer Wiener

Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Sometimes I wish I was one of those people who didn't give a crap about politics, or public policy, or how decisions are made within our government. How blissful it would be to never read another word about what Newt or Sarah or Glenn think about this or that, or hear about whatever bit of dumbfuckery the political parties are currently spouting. Never reading another newspaper, never staying abreast of current events - how easy my stress management would become.

Of course living such a life would also mean I'd be a drooling idiot living in a trailer with tires on the roof and a meth lab in the bathroom. I can't have that. What would I blog about?

As we approach the mid-term elections, however, I find myself in the singularly uncomfortable position of thinking I may end voting a straight Democratic ticket. With the Republican's unthinking shift the far right in an attempt to placate and/or court the Tea Baggers, I can't think of a single Republican for whom I would vote. Not a single, solitary one.

I'm an INDEPENDENT. To me, that means I vote for the candidate whose positions best correspond to my points of view, regardless of their political affiliation. Republican, Democrat, Independent, whatever - I'm all about coming to the end of the election day with the best possible slate of public servants. I've never been the person who just voted for their party, regardless of the candidate's qualifications or positions. And it's starting to piss me off that the Republican's extremism is forcing me to become that person.

As Bob Cesca notes, it won't be too long before we end up with a three party system, then a two party system again as the Tea-Bag controlled Republicans fade into the ignominious obscurity they so richly deserve. But in the meantime, I'm stuck with basically zero choices, as the dearth of moderate, middle of the road candidates continues into the foreseeable future.

I wish I was an Oscar Meyer wiener
That is what I'd truly like to be
'Cause if I was an Oscar Meyer wiener
I wouldn't have to deal with the fucking retards that are pushing our political system to extreme positions in order to pander to the lowest common denominator in public life. Plus I'd be made of cow lips. Which is sort of cool.

Fair Winds and Following Seas, My Son

Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Today, my son becomes a man. He's shipping out for a six year hitch in the U.S. Navy. He'll be going through boot camp at the Recruit Training Command at Great Lakes, followed by Advanced Electronics School, also at Great Lakes. Once he completes his primary schooling, he'll be assigned a rate and will attend more specific training based on his preferences and the needs of the Navy.

This is quite a milestone. Today, he's a full-fledged adult - off the payroll, both literally and figuratively. He's making his own decisions, and his success or failure will depend entirely on the choices he makes.

I hope he's ready. I hope my efforts in preparing him for this journey have been sufficient to allow him to achieve all that his heart desires. I hope he learns from his mistakes, and makes choices that lead him to a rich, fulfilling life, full of happiness, accomplishment and service. I hope for his personal safety, for the profession of arms is never without risk. I hope he bears the burden and privilege of military service with pride and honor, in the tradition of his forbears. I hope he finds love, and family, and the generosity of spirit that makes this life worth living. I hope for all good things for him, while I know in my heart that he will have his share of sorrow and regret - the price of being fully human.

Today my son becomes my brother-in-arms. He progresses the circle of life a little farther along its circumference, taking my place in the ranks of young adults serving their country. I will take my mother's place in the ranks of parents with children in service, with all the pride and worry that entails. It's the natural order of things, and I have every confidence that I will take as much pride in my son's service as my own birth family took in my own.

Fair winds and following seas, my son. Like every mother's son before you, you carry my love, my pride, and my best hope with you. Serve with honor, with courage, with integrity.

Non sibi sed patriae.

Heading Home

Monday, September 13, 2010
I'm heading back to Colorado this morning after a fun-filled weekend of shopping, spa treatments, taco chop food and general debauchery. Tomorrow it's back to the grind, and since these were the last of my vacation days for this fiscal year, I'm going to be looking at a long stretch of work before my next mini-vacation. That's probably not a bad thing - between vacation and furlough, I've taken a lot of time off the last two years, and I'm getting spoiled. Kind of like the Europeans.

So once I'm home, I'll be going to Home Depot to buy paint for the family room to support the continuing mini-remodel of the Big Yellow House. Have a nice Monday, Hot Chicks and Smart Men. We're back to our regularly scheduled programming tomorrow.

2010 Flower Pr0n - San Diego Plumeria Edition

Sunday, September 12, 2010

The Return of Demento Dog

Saturday, September 11, 2010
While I'm here in San Diego, getting massages and pedicures, the Smart Man is holding down the fort in the Big Yellow House. And by "holding down the fort," I mean "supervising the latest visit from Demento Dog," whose human is off at points east for a professional commitment. As the Smart Man notes, this dog leaves no sun spot unused:



H/T to the Smart Man, who is keeping me apprised of exciting events as they unfold.

Caturday, Now With More Sewing (And Spam)


This is Lucy. "Lucy! I'm ho-ome? What have you been up to?" She is the great huntress, killing humming birds and bringing their twitching carcasses into the house for her mistress' inspection.


And behold - the sewing machine!

And now, in honor of the retarded Terry Jones (as opposed to the funny one) who has decided not to burn Q'urans on this, the anniversary of the worst terrorist attack in U.S. history, here's Monty Python's Flying Circus and the Spam Obsessed Diner.

Boogie Blogging Friday

Friday, September 10, 2010

Making Myself Scarce

Thursday, September 9, 2010
By traveling to San Diego for for a visit with long-time friend and occasional commenter The Mechanicky Gal. We intend to indulge in rolled tacos from the local taco chop and other forms of food porn. I'm leaving in the morning, and won't be back until Monday.

I may blog. I may not. We'll see how things go. And how much I have to drink.

In the meantime, I'd like to point out that I have more business travel scheduled in the next six weeks than I had in the previous year (White Plains, Chicago and Las Vegas). Which means I'll either A) blog like a crazy person because I tend to become more organized when I'm busier or B) drop of the face of the Internet because I'm too busy working and getting on and off airplanes. Feel free to start a pool.

Evangelism and Hypocrisy

Wednesday, September 8, 2010
I have a real hard-on for evangelists. Their very presence in my world offends me, and I can't understand how anyone could be so damn arrogant and presumptuous as to really believe they have some sort of exclusive corner on the Capital "T" Truth. Seriously- get over yourself, fucknut. It's not up to you to define someone else's spiritual journey, or to force someone to see a non-material world through your eyes.

The reason I've been thinking about this is because I saw this on one of the Atheist blogs I follow: 


It made me chuckle, of course, but I don't think it goes far enough. I would say BELIEF is like a penis. Including non-belief.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again - I consider belief to be an extremely private matter. Provided your belief doesn't interfere with my Constitutional rights or violate the human rights of others, I really don't give a good goddamn what you believe.

And that's what makes me wonder. Where do you draw the line between building community and evangelism? I have no issue with religious (or non-religious) organizations sharing their ideas in a passive manner through billboards or other forms of advertisement. While I find all those "Jesus is Lord/Jesus is the Reason for the Season/Jesus is Lord Over (Fill in Town Name)" billboards annoying, they're no worse than the recent spate of Atheist billboards, and they serve the same purpose - to build community. Community is a good thing, provided it's not built around some heinous idea like "I know! Let's kill all those dirty, dirty heathens!" and I think most religious and Atheist organizations fulfill that purpose.

But for myself personally, trying to convince others that my lack of belief is the Capital T Truth leaves a bad taste in my mouth and prompts one of those "Hypocrisy, they name is Janiece" moments. If I find it incredibly offensive that evangelical Christians think it's fine and dandy to think they have a corner on the Capital T Truth and they should try and convince me of that, then in order to maintain my intellectual honesty, I must apply the same standard to myself.

Lucky Me

Tuesday, September 7, 2010
At the end of this three day weekend, please take a moment to remember those who don't get many days off. Here's Lucky Me, a true story put to music by Helene Cronin.

To my brothers and sisters-in-arms, now and forever.


______
Wave of the flag to my Hot Mom.

Labor Day (Without the Labor)

Monday, September 6, 2010
I'm a tired human today, thanks to a busy, busy weekend. Saturday night the Smart Man and I went to see Government Mule at Red Rocks Amphitheater with the Incomparable Anne™. It was a fabulous show in a great venue, but a late night. Of course I woke up early on Sunday (thanks, brain).

We threw a going away party for my Smart Boy on Sunday, who is shipping out for U.S. Navy boot camp in about a week, so yesterday was a hectic (if fun) day. And last night - insomnia returns!

In any event, today is liable to involve nothing more complex than navel-gazing and knitting. So here's Government Mule for your entertainment.

2010 Flower Pr0n

Sunday, September 5, 2010

My Misogyny - Let Me Show You It*

Saturday, September 4, 2010
I was listening to the Bob and Elvis show last week, and Bob was complaining that his doofus neighbor let his wife mow the lawn. Bob thought this was an especially egregious example of not-manliness, and while listening, I had to agree.

But it did make me think about my own gender-based stereotypes.

I consider myself a feminist. I have definite opinions about equal pay for equal work, the ability of women to be considered on a level playing field with men, and the inclusion of women in public life. But there are some things about which I am decidedly backwards:
  • The mowing of lawns. If a man and a woman live in the same house, and there's a lawn to be mowed, the man should get his hairy butt out there and mow the damn lawn. The couple that owns the home behind us doesn't adhere to this truism - the woman mows the lawn. It makes me assume the man is a big putz. Disclaimer: This assumes, of course, that he's physically able to do so.
  • Dying of hair. If you don't like the color of your hair and you're a woman, feel free to join the 80% of American women whose hair color is not their own. If you're a man - learn to live with it. Seriously. 
  • Wearing of wigs/toupees. If you're a woman and you lose your hair for some reason, please enjoy the really remarkably realistic wigs available for your use if that's what makes you happy. If you're a man - again, learn to live with it, you big sissy. Shaving your head is so much more attractive than even the highest quality toupee. Trust me on this one.
  • Personal grooming. If I was a single kind of gal instead of happily ensconced in my contented rut with the Smart Man, I would never consider a man who spent more time on his personal grooming than I did. I'm not talking about health maintenance such as exercise and such. I mean personal grooming. If you take longer to fix your hair than I do, you're a write-off. 
Do I realize that this makes me a big ole hypocrite? Sure do. Do I realize that this is unfair, because everyone should be entitled to do whatever they need to do in order to feel good themselves? Yep. Am I going to change my mind? Probably not. Because I'm backwards. 

____________
*I'm not really a misogynist. But that sounds so much better than "The Awareness of my Gender-Based Stereotypes - Let Me Show You It."

Boogie Blogging Friday - Bad Dog Edition

Friday, September 3, 2010
Boogie's in trouble today, as you can tell from his shamed posture.

You see, the neighbor dog Chester, whom you met when he was just a pup, is now an adult dog, and he's full of piss and vinegar. Boogie doesn't have much use for him, growling "get off my lawn!" whenever they meet on neutral territory. But the real issue is the privacy fence we share with our neighbors on the South side of our property.

You see, whenever they're both out in our respective yards, they meet at the fence and neither one will admit that the fence might be neutral territory. Therefore, the only reasonable thing to do is to bark your fool head off while simultaneously jumping on the fence to show that uppity youngster/grouchy old man who's really in charge around here.

Needless to say, this isn't doing much for the integrity of the fence, or the nerves of anyone within earshot. So there's a lot of "BAD DOG! NO!" going on around here lately.

Not-So-Legendary

Thursday, September 2, 2010
I have to say - it drives me crazy when people say this person or that accomplishment is LEGENDARY.

Legendary. Really? Some overpaid high school graduate runs around a basketball court throwing a ball into a little hoop and he's legendary?

I don't think so.

Jonas Salk was legendary. Stephen Hawking is legendary. William Shakespeare was legendary. LeBron James? Not-so-legendary.

Which is not to say that sports figures can't achieve that status. But in my mind, their athletic prowess on its own isn't enough to grant them such accolades.

In order for someone to be considered legendary, I think they have to accomplish one of two things: Either fundamentally change the way we look at the world, or fundamentally change the way we live in the world. So while there is no question that Mr. James is an extremely gifted athlete who works his butt off to achieve a truly impressive skill set, he's not legendary. Jackie Robinson - he was legendary. Muhammad Ali - again, legendary. In my opinion, Mr. James just doesn't make the cut.


Who do you admire that fundamentally changed the way we look at the world, or fundamentally changed the way we live in the world?

Well Behaved Women Rarely Make History - Volume XXIX

Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Ruth Bader Ginsburg.

It seems like Justice Ginsburg often gets the short end of the stick when it comes to recognition for her achievements in American law. After all, she wasn't the first female Supreme Court Justice. But based on a recent article in Slate by Dahlia Lithwick, I have to say that she's done an incredible amount for gender equality in the country. From the article:
She scored five victories in six Supreme Court appeals, using the 14th Amendment to slowly and systematically eradicate gender discrimination in one law after another, pushing the courts to scrutinize laws that classify on the basis of gender with a standard higher than the deferential "rational basis" standard.

Indeed she did. And unlike the Palinistas referenced in Lithwick's article, I think it's dreadfully important to recognize the women who have made my life and my work possible. Thanks to the past and current work of this incredible woman, institutional discrimination against my gender has been slowly and surely brought to the light of day and seen for what it is - wrong.

For such a proper and elegant woman, Justice Bader Ginsburg is delightfully and thankfully ill-behaved.

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Flutter of the robe to UCF heartthrob Eric of Standing on the Shoulders of Giant Midgets, who brought the Slate article to my attention.