Jessica on Feministing posted a brief response today to MSNBC’s post debate coverage, in which Chris Matthews asked Sen. Chris Dodd, “Do you find it difficult to debate a woman?”
Jessica’s response – “You know, because vaginas have special debate-blocking powers.”
I nearly shot iced tea out of my nose. Seriously, do people really think that way? I guess they do. It never ceases to amaze me.
Wednesday night, I was hanging out with some bikers. I’d never been to Molotov’s. When we got there, Johnny Cash was blaring on the jukebox. The bar wasn’t packed, which was nice, but it also wasn’t empty. There was just enough for there to be a nice crowd, but not crowded. There were a few hipsters, but I didn’t see a single yuppie. It was that fabulous warm day, and so even at 8 in the evening, they had the door and windows open, and I was perfectly comfortable in my short sleeved shirt. After the Johnny Cash songs, some Beastie Boys and other songs that I didn’t recognize came on the jukebox, but smack dab in the middle of the night, out of nowhere, “The Israelites” by the eternal Desmond Dekker. And as we were leaving, more Johnny Cash. Coming and going to Johnny Cash is OK by me. Needless to say, I now have a crush on this bar.
So, we were sitting about, discussing the trip that J4 is planning for his birthday. He was to moto down to the tip of baja. As I am a “satin ass,” I’ll be flying down to meet the gang. Of course we got to reminiscing about previous trips we’ve taken togeter. Vegas last Labor Day, and Hawthorne, NV in May. I’m sure that if we make this trip, I will have lots of stories to tell. Wednesday was just a nice chill evening, hanging out with some friends in a cool spot.
Okay, I totally flaked on the skirt idea, but the weather is not disappointing. Today is one of a handful of days we’ll have in The City where it’s warm and comfortable enough to drink a Slurpee.
So that’s just what I’m doing.
I have Slurpee-tongue.
Saw this post today on Feministe regarding this article.
Basically, a couple of girls in Saudi Arabia pepper sprayed the moral cops who were trying to give them “advise” about how to dress more properly. Fight the patriarchy, people. Say no to the Commission for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice, and yes to short shorts.
I read a blog called Back in Skinny Jeans quite regularly. It’s written by a gal, Stephanie, who is a real woman trying to lose a little weight. I like to root for her, and I’ve also picked up some great exercise tips and what not from her site.
Yesterday she posted “Scientist shares the secret to perfect boobies” about an article in the Daily Mail. I think Stephanie did a good job of sending it up, so I won’t go into it to much, but basically the article tells that a scientist will be presenting his findings on the proportion of the perfect ta-tas, after studying many pictures of breasts, to the first international conference on breast enlargement, to be held in London this week. Awesome. You see, the “scientist” is a plastic surgery. The article in the Mail didn’t give any detail on the studies methods, of course.
I had no idea that the breasts of the world were under such scrutiny. Well, at least not from a “scientist”.
Today was one of the awesome, sunny, clear days in San Francisco. These are the kind of gorgeous days that make you forget when you were freezing your nose off in the middle of July in the fog. It was warm, brilliant, and comfortable out in The City today.
I went over to the farmers’ market at the Ferry Building on Embarcadero at lunch. I got a vegan tamale for lunch, and picked up persimmons.
I love the “fall” in the city. It’s funny, though, that in other parts of the country, it’s starting to turn cold, and people are unpacking their sweaters and coats. Here, we never pack up the sweaters or coats, because you’re just as likely to need them in June as you are in January. However, you also never know when you can wear skirts and sandals. I think tomorrow is going to be a skirt and sandal day for me personally. It’s nearly October.
I hope that this October does not disappoint me. It’s usually the warmest month of the year here, but this year has been very off. We didn’t get enough rain over the winter, and then it never got as hot inland as it normally does. It’s normal for it to be barely 60 in The City in August, but not in Concord. I guess only time will tell, but I’m hoping for many more brilliantly warm fall afternoons in San Francisco.
A couple of days ago, I read some terrible news on MySpace. It’s taken a couple of days to process. One of my favorite bands has lost a member. David Fuentes, the bass player for Hepcat passed away this last weekend.
If you’ve never had the pleasure of knowing a Hepcat show, then you have no idea what you’re missing. I’ve never met anyone who has heard their music, and not liked it. I have never met anyone who has seen them live, and not loved them. They will always be one of my favorites, no matter who or what else comes along.
I don’t know if the band will go on. I hope that they will, but I will understand if they won’t. There will never be another.
If I were a praying woman, he’d be in them.
David Fuentes: 1971 – 2007
http://www.myspace.com/hepcatlive
Current Mood: Bummed Out
Playlist: Scientific
Hepcat
There’s a shopping spree in me that’s been barely contained for weeks. I want new clothes. And I’m tired of buying them all at the same two stores. I want to branch out.
The problem is, I don’t know where to go. I have been getting my clothes at this one store for so long, that I wouldn’t know where to start looking for another option.
I suppose I could go to the mall. The big one. In San Francisco. Yeah, that wouldn’t be expensive. Not at all.
Part of me says, “suck it up”. But I’m still such a miser.
And maybe I should clean out my closet before I buy anything else.
I have the feeling that this is about to get ridiculous.
Current Mood: Antsy
Playlist: The Ramblers
Deal’s Gone Bad
They sent me home from work.
D’oh!
I am sick. I am trying really hard not to let it get any worse. I’ve had the OJ, the Airborne, the vitamins, Flonase, yogurt, water, Ricola. I’m fighting with everything I’ve got. I hate being sick.
I guess it was a little inevitable for me to get sick. First, I took two round trip airplane rides two weeks in a row. Then when I got back, I partied like a rock star with a bunch of different rock stars. No telling where those guys have been, and we were sharing beers. On top of that, I have not been sleeping well. Too much on my mind.
I confess to being the worst kind of sick person. First off, I’m always in denial about it. I’ll have completely lost my voice and have a fever, and I’ll still be saying, “I just didn’t get enough sleep last night.” When I finally admit to being sick, I’m so far gone, but still won’t go to the doctor. I absolutely hate going to the doctor only to hear, “you’ve got a virus. Drink more fluids and get more rest.” That’s so aggravating. I could have told them that.
The main reason I’m the most miserable sicky, though, is my attitude. When I’m sick, I don’t want anybody anywhere near me. I want to lay in bed for twenty four hours smelling like crap, looking like crap, and not have to talk to anyone. It’s impossible for anyone to do anything right when I’m under the weather. It’s best to just steer clear. Of course, you know this impossible to do when you live with someone, be they a roommate, family member, partner, spouse, whatever. They’re in my space, and I feel awful, and I want them to die.
So if you think it would be nice to make me some soup or something, think again. We’ll both be better off if you just ignore me while I try to ignore you.
I’m not really that sick, though. Seriously. I swear. It’s just a little runny nose. It’ll be fine.
Just sayin’.
Peggy Lu Who's Just Sayin' 