Halloween Facepalm

Yesterday was Halloween, a holiday which I am increasingly falling out of love with.   There’s the pressure on girls and women to sex it up.   There’s also the issue of cultural appropriation costumes.    All of this over the last couple of years has started to take a little bit of the joy out of one of my favorite holidays.

However, I did dress up for work yesterday, and my costume of Zombie Lenore & The Raven tied for third place (with Robert Smith from The Cure) in the office popularity costume contest.

First place was awarded to a co-worker whose costume consisted of a Disney princess gown and wig, pillow for a baby bump, a baby doll, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and a half full bottle of Jack Daniels.   He (a middle class, straight, white, cisgenerder man, for what it’s worth)  called it “Snow White Trashed.”

Holy misogynistic, classist trope, Wonder Woman!

Now, you may think that by taking offense to this costume, I am over-reacting, but I don’t think so.   It perpetuates a stereotype of working class women that is repulsive.  It holds it up, and it points a finger at it, and it laughs at it.  (Not with it.  At it.)    That stereotype is that the working class woman is too stupid and too lazy to better her situation, and it’s bullshit.  And if you’re me, that caricature is ever more offensive, because at a point in time, that was what my probable future looked like.  I was a working class girl, from a working class family.  My grandparents were migrant farm workers.  My parents were enlisted in the Navy.   We didn’t have much.  I grew up in an working class neighborhood, and I was educated in California’s desperately underfunded public schools.   There was a time when my parents thought I couldn’t make it out of high school without getting “knocked up.”   They had no idea how we would pay for me to go to college, if I could get accepted, other than enlisting like they had, and getting a G.I. bill.  I grew up afraid of my future.  Fear was my motivation.

My story is not the Horatio Alger myth.  This is not about my boot straps.  When I think about the working class women who haven’t managed to achieve the “American Dream”, I know that it’s not because they are lazy or stupid.  For some of us, it worked out.  For most of us, it did not.  I graduated high school near the top of my class and horribly ignorant.    I can say that when you’re ignorant, you do not know that you’re ignorant until someone or something slaps you in the face with it.  For me, that happened in my first year at a university that I somehow managed to get accepted into.  It was only then that I learned the damage that my public school education had done, that I didn’t know anything about learning, and that I had been the victim of a system that rewarded me for doing the bare minimum, and passed me into the world without any knowledge of how to succeed.   I got mostly A’s in high school simply because I was there.  The overworked, underpaid teachers who don’t have the time, the resources, or the energy at the end of the day are not to blame.  The young people in the schools are not to blame.  The system is not set up to help anyone succeed, the teachers or the young people, especially not the young women.   It is an institution that is broken, and the ill prepared students it churns out have little with which to build a future any different from their parents, nor the skills with which to fix institutions.

It wasn’t just the public schools, though.  My parents didn’t know what I wasn’t being taught.  My father was never good at school, and would tell you that he did just enough to keep his grades high enough to play football and baseball.   With a batting average above 400 in his senior year of high school, he thought he his future laid in professional baseball.  When he was not picked up by the Giants, he enlisted in the Navy.  My mother tried college, but after a year of struggling with it, she enlisted, too.  My siblings had children early, and some of them dropped out.  I was the only one who went straight to college from high school.  My family was not the kind of family that knew what successful education looked like.   All they knew was hard work.    They taught me hard work, but they didn’t know how to teach me to have more for myself than what they had, raising a family on too little, and working too hard.   When you don’t know what you don’t know, all your left with is what you do  know.   All you know to teach your kids is what you know.  They did the best they knew how to do, and I don’t fault them for it.

So, maybe you think I’m over-reacting.  Maybe you think I’m too sensitive, or too easily offended.  I think that you just don’t understand what it is to fear that trope, to fight against it, and to try to live it down.   I don’t have the luxury of laughing it off or not being sensitive to it.  I know Snow White Trashed all too well.   I might have been her, and if I had, so fucking what.  Being poor doesn’t make someone bad, stupid, pathetic, or lazy.  I was as lucky as I was smart and determined.  I did not get pregnant.  I graduated from college.  I got a nice cushy internet job.  The stars aligned.

There but by the grace of god go I.  

Just sayin’.

CSGL – The Test

So, here’s the thing – it’s come to my attention that I could probably benefit for being a bit more selective about who I go out with.   In fact, I’ve been flat out, point blank told that I’ve been dating morons who are well beneath me.     In an effort to help myself choose more wisely, I’m compiling a list of standards, a list of real or hypothetical situations and characteristics which would eliminate fellas from my dating pool.    Some of this shit may seem pretty obvious, but I’m just trying to be, um, comprehensive.   It’s kind of like a true or false test to determine a dude’s value as a potential date.     There is no curve, and this test is pass-fail.   This is 100% of your grade.   I reserve the right to add more questions as I see fit at any time.

And so, I present, the test!  I will not date you if:

  1. You are so drunk while you are hitting on me that you don’t notice that you’re dribbling or drooling beer down your chin and onto your chest.
  2. You do not have some sort of occupation (doesn’t necessarily have to be a 9-5 type job or even a job – you could be a student, for example).
  3. Your pick up line is “I have a really good job”.
  4. You live with your parents.
  5. You introduce me to a group of your friends as ‘my girlfriend’, but later claim to have nothing but platonic feelings for me.
  6. You ignore me.
  7. You don’t listen to me.
  8. You have a hobby that you insist that I adopt as a condition of our dating.
  9. Your favorite band is Limp Bizkit, Korn, Hoobastank, Creed, Coldplay, or Linkin Park.
  10. You work in law enforcement.
  11. You try to sleep with my friends behind my back.
  12. You’re mean to my cat.
  13. You’re married.
  14. You already have a girlfriend.
  15. You already have a boyfriend.
  16. You are in the middle of a divorce.
  17. You get arrested on our first date.
  18. You have no idea who Lloyd Dobbler is.
  19. You think making fun of me is a form of flirting.
  20. You are constantly giving me mixed signals.
  21. You haven’t read at least two books in the last six months.
  22. You have an issue of Maxim in your bathroom.
  23. You voted for George W. Bush.
  24. You try to get me to make-out with a girl so you can watch.
  25. You ask me if I have a Brazilian.
  26. You have a child out in the world that you’re not helping to raise.
  27. You don’t want to wear a condom.
  28. You come on to me so hard that I feel a little frightened.
  29. You knowingly try to hit on me the same week that I got dumped by some other dude.
  30. You don’t want to see my favorite movie at least once, even though you think it will probably be totally lame.
  31. You don’t like “kids’ movies”.
  32. You say my friend is ‘weird’.
  33. You say my friend is ‘gross’.
  34. You ask for a foot massage on our second date.
  35. You hate or fear children.
  36. You say something to me that is so absurd and ridiculous that I feel obligated to start a tumblr based on it.
  37. You refuse to meet me halfway.
  38. You act like you might be into men, but refuse to admit it.
  39. You scare me.
  40. You scare my friends.
  41. You want to put me up on a pedestal or treat me as a trophy.
  42. You are not supportive of my goals.
  43. You insist that I get into a serious, monogamous relationship with you immediately after I meet you without giving me a chance to get to know you first.
  44. You so much as mention that you might want me to change a single molecule of my body in any way.
  45. You try to move in with me without being asked.
  46. You use my toothbrush.
  47. You leave the bathroom door open while you’re using it.
  48. You over share about how you’re carrying baggage from your ex from ten years ago the first time we have a conversation.
  49. You give unsolicited advice and then get angry when I tell you that I have the situation under control and don’t need your advice.
  50. You offer me your phone number, and then get upset with me for calling you.
  51. You say “you’re not how I expected you to be from reading your blog”….. Seriously, get the fuck out!

EXTRA CREDIT:  You could get an immediate pass if one of my close girl friends gives you the thumbs up.    Let’s face it, their bullshit-detecters are much better than mine.

In Case You Were Wondering, Facebook…

Yes!  This is totally misogynist!!

“Because, OMG, skinny bitches are gross!  Who would want to fuck that?  Amirite?”

People’s bodies come in all shapes and sizes.   You don’t have to be attracted to them all, but you sure as shit don’t need to do line-ups of one type against another and then post (or repost) some body policing shame-a-thon up on a social network in order to get high fives and ‘likes’.

And if you thought this was somehow empowering, think again.   Our body shape and size is largely determined by genetics, so how is this compare and contrast line-up supposed to make anyone feel better, when all it’s really doing is saying, “If you look more like the women on the top, well then it sucks to be you, because you’re scary!”  And the overwhelming majority of us look nothing like either of those two sets of women. “Real women have curves.” No, actually, not all women do, and it doesn’t make them any less fucking real if they don’t.

Also, and why isn’t this the most obvious fucking thing ever, but all the photos featured in the bottom row are obviously from fashion shoots, while the ones on the top are candid shots of celebrities who happened to be at the beach?   No one looks in real life like they do at a photo shoot!  Even before Photoshop, they would still pose them, and stitch them into swimsuits that would be most flattering, do tall their hair and makeup, so comparing a model shot of Elizabeth Taylor to a shot of Keira Knightly just hanging out at the beach is fucking ridiculous.

If you want to encourage acceptance of women’s bodies, you should find an image that is a positive portrayal of multiple shapes, colors, sizes, without imposing a hierarchy.   Something like, I dunno, This…

Source: naturalmodelsla
Source: naturalmodelsla Borrowed from - http://healthyisclassy.tumblr.com/ Click to visit!

Also, Keira Knightly’s abs are fucking ridiculously jacked.  Holy six pack!  God damn, girl, you buff!

Just sayin’.

CSGL – I Can’t Be Gay For You

Buckle up, kiddos, ’cause this is going to be a whopper of a post.

So, I’m not regularly dating.  I am, however, irregularly dating.

I mean, I still have a profile up on a dating site, but since it’s not really breaking my heart to be single, I’m not fully invested in the whole process, am sort of half  doing it to be doing something, and it’s not going so well.  More than anything there have just been a lot of awkward exchanges, and some red flags a’waving.   But I digress . . .

I’ve met a couple of people here and there that I’ve been hanging out with.   It’s all very much just about as serious as Sponge Bob, at this point.   Yep, “still” (grr) single.  Still crazy.

So, last night I was hanging out with a guy friend, and the topic of threesomes came up.  I said that I wasn’t interested in having a threesome with a guy and another girl.  This lead him to say that he didn’t think that he and I could ever be compatible, because I’m too closed minded, since I wouldn’t consider a threesome.   I’m not closed minded.  I’m straight.

(It should be noted that I had not been considering having sex with him, so this is kind of a moot point.)

It reminded me of an exchange I had with another fella some time back.  I was trying to encourage him to stop with the endless flirting, and, you know, actually take me Out, instead of just talking about it.   Well, he had suddenly changed his tune, and let me know that now he had decided to only take out “ladies who like other ladies.”

What exactly am I supposed to do with this?   I guess whatever floats your boat, but what about actually floats my boat?  I also just don’t understand why this would be such a shock to anyone.   I mean, why would anyone assume that I would be into women when I’m so obviously into men, and haven’t shown any signs of being into women.   I guess it’s wrong to assume anything about anyone’s preference, but it’s equally wrong to assume that I can just turn gay all of a sudden.

It’s a huge double standard.  These same guys, they would never dream of having a threesome with me and another guy.   It would never even occur to them, and there’s not a lot of precedent for it in media, either.  While there are so many examples in pop culture of the portrayal that women’s sexuality is fluid, men’s is in most cases portrayed to be rigid.   For women, there are a gajillion porns, Girls Gone Wild, Katy Perry’s I Kissed a Girl, etc, where at any moment a woman who identifies as being straight could become attracted to other women.  Because it’s not enough that we face pressure to be beautiful, youthful, smart, and malleable in a hundred other ways, now we have to be bisexual, too.   Or at least be willing to have sex with someone we’re not the least bit attracted to in order to be attractive to the ones we are.

Pardon my French, but FUCK THAT SEXIST SHIT!

Message to the dudes of the world . . . .I can’t help it if I’m hetero.   Oh darn!  I actually am attracted to humans that have body shapes and appearances similar to yours.   What a bloody tragedy.   And this idea that I should have sex with someone I didn’t want just to prove something to you or that it means that I am closed, narrow, or small minded is fucking insulting.

I’m straight.  Get used to it.

Just sayin’.

And a side note to any bisexual women and/or women who do want to have threesomes with another woman, go get your get, and I just want to be clear that I got no problem with you.  In other words, I ain’t mad atcha.

CSGL [Crazy Single Girl Life] – The Year 2012

Every year, I get on here and start hyping about how this is the year I’m going to write this blog more.  Every year, I tell myself that it’s not a resolution, because resolutions are basically a setup to fail.  But if it’s not a resolution, and I still fail anyway, what the hell is that?

The last couple of years, I’ve put myself to the task of some really hard work.  I really haven’t felt like I had a lot that I wanted to say publicly.   Also, there was a somewhat threatening comment that someone tried to leave which didn’t make it out of my moderation queue.   Those two things really made me take a step back, and think about what the heck it is I’m doing with this space.  For the most part, this has always been just where I come to spout off about random shit that’s on my mind, be it dating, friends, travel, or baseball.   I tried to be funny, and it felt good to watch the daily page views go up, and to feel like I was writing something that resonated with other folks out there.   I look at it as a good way to work out things that I might want to write more about in the future, or to vent things in a way that makes me laugh at them, because I’m really big on not taking myself too seriously.  But do I really need to be putting myself out there in the world wide web like this?  Am I really just a self-centered wanker?  The answers are yes and yes.

Look, I’ve gotten plenty of ‘hatemail’ and ‘trollers’ on this blog before, but this was different.  This was a person who wanted me to know that they knew who I really was (no pseudonym) and where I could be found.  It was shocking, a little bit.  And I’ve been working on other projects, so it was really easy to just fall back into those other things, and let Just Sayin’ idle.

No resolutions, no promises, I’m just sayin’ that 2012 is the year I get over it.   Let that person be mad.  Let that person hate.  Let that person come find me.   This is pretty much what restraining orders were made for, so I would love it if ne would show nir face.   I doubt ne will, as obviously this person’s whole threat is based on the premise of making sure I know that ne knows who I am, while not letting me know who ne is.

Anyway, so I’m back, and I’m more badass then ever.   And yes, I am single.  Roar, or something.

I’ve got a lot of exciting things planned for this year, which I am going to share with all you strangers out there and the general population, including my ex’s wife and my mother.  (Hi!  I see you there.)

In no particular order, here is a list of things I plan to blog about in 2012:

  • My actual New Year’s Resolution, which is not to blog more
  • Boot camp fitness classes (also not a resolution)
  • Bicycling
  • Planned travel to Costa Rica and hopefully back to Kauai again
  • Elections!  (oh fun, more arguing)
  • Dating!  (oh fun, more arguing)
  • Feminism! (oh fun, more arguing)
  • San Francisco Giants back in the playoffs!  (Hello, Mr. Posey.  We’ve missed you.)
  • Music – shows and albums, oh boy
  • Oakland!
  • And possibly some pictures of my cat being cute.

So sit back, relax, and enjoy while I do my best to hold up my end of the bargain.

And if you have something nasty to say, well, you go right ahead sparky, but if you make it personal, I’m going to ignore the shit out of it from here on out.

Just sayin’!

CSGL – Some Guys Just Can’t Take a Hint

A couple of nights ago, I was out with some friends, and there was this very unusual dude who just couldn’t seem to see that Cookie was not having it.  This is, unfortunately, something I have seen more than a couple times before.  If you, like me, watched hours of Looney Tunes as a kid, you might remember that poor little kitty cat that was always trying to squirm out of the clutches of Pepe le Pew.   That is exactly what she looks like when this happens to her.  And this guy was certainly lePew-ific.  He showed up at the karaoke bar wearing Rambo style face paint and an unfortunate choice of bonnet.

So I wrote a haiku about it:

Creepy beret dude
Undesired Advances
Punch him in the dick

Just sayin’.

Labor Daying

I find myself sitting here, the evening of the Saturday of this three day weekend.  Historically speaking, this is the holiday to celebrate the greatness of the American labor force.  For the typical USian, mostly it’s about the last three day shebang of summer.  Next week, the kids head back to school, the summer melts away, and the downhill acceleration to the holidays begins.  There’s that feeling in the air that there’s a lot to pack in because somehow things are going to be different come Tuesday.

I spent a good part of my afternoon out and about.  I slathered up with some sunblock, and stepped out in my tank top, big floppy hat, and sunglasses.   I walked around the neighborhood, had some foods, ran into some good friends, enjoyed my leisure.  I came home and enjoyed some relaxing activities – reading, watching a ballgame, watching a movie.  Tomorrow could be really packed with a lot of activities.  There’s a lot going on, and we’ll see how much of it I manage to actually accomplish.  So, I felt like today ought to be mellow.  Monday?  I don’t really know what kind of day that’s going to be.

Now I find myself sitting here with a glass of wine, thinking about Labor Day, and of course, writing about it.   (Also listening to Raphael Saadiq and Marvin Gaye)

The funny thing about this, even though I’m not headed back to school, I’m still like a kid this weekend.  I still have that feeling like this is somehow my last chance at freedom for some time.   This is, amongst other things, completely unfounded.   I already have plans to take a Monday off in a couple weeks to go wine tasting.  I have travel plans for October and November already lined up.  I have a hard time remembering, a lot of the time, that I am not nineteen anymore, and this could be just another example of that.  I some times look at my life, and I wonder how it is that a nineteen year old has come to have her own apartment, car, career, etc, and I actually have to remind myself that I am not nineteen, but thirty-four, and that all these things are perfectly reasonable things for me to have.

But as I’ve spent some time thinking about this holiday, what it’s supposed to represent and what it actually does mean to so many of us, it has occurred to me that this next week will be the 20th anniversary of me starting my freshman year of high school.   Fuck!  I’m old.  Two decades since I became a high school student.   How the hell did that happen?

I wish I could remember a little better what I was like at fourteen.  I couldn’t tell you if I was more excited or scared to be starting high school.  I can’t really remember what my first day of school was.  I’m sure, me being me, there had to be some guy I noticed on that first day, and i wish I could remember who he was.   And really what I wish I knew more than anything is whether 14 year old me and 34 year old me have anything in common.  Am I still her?  Would she recognize me?  What would she think of this weekend I have planned for myself?  Would she be happy with how we turned out?  Would she see the beauty in the simplicity of my evening?  Would she be mad at me that we’re single or would she be pleased that we have a life full of so much that being unsingle isn’t priority number one?  Would she like our job?  Would she like our friends?  (Some of them are still the same)   Would she like this damn cat curled up next to me?

The thing is, even though I don’t really remember anything about what I was like at fourteen, I think I couldn’t have changed so much.  I mean, it wouldn’t be so hard to keep track of the reality that I’m an adult, if I had change so much in the process, would it?.   I don’t think I would be sitting here feeling like this weekend has to mean something, if I didn’t still have that memory ingrained somewhere of just how much Labor Day can change your life.   It’s possible that I’m over-thinking every damn thing about this.

So what is this weekend about?  Relaxing, getting out, running into friends, barbecuing, cocktail drinking, running, biking, jiving, grooving, writing, and being.  Make it whatever you need it to be.  Go nuts!

And just keep turning the page.

Stuff To Do

I am procrastinating.  There’s quite a few things that I should possibly be doing right now, but instead, I’m sitting here typing up a list of what those things are.   Maybe by public airing the extent of my laziness, I will somehow embarrass myself, and that will motivate me to get this stuff done.   Probably not, but anyway, here’s the list. (In no particular order.)

  • Call my dad to tell him that his fifth and sixth great-grandchildren were born on Friday
  • Brush my teeth
  • Floss my teeth
  • Wash my face
  • Write my novel
  • Balance my checkbook
  • Wash the dishes
  • Feed the cat
  • Take out the Trash
  • Put away my laundry
  • Dust
  • Write my building manager about the water that has been pouring out of the whole in the ceiling in my bathroom for the past month….again
  • Update LinkedIn
  • Take a shower
  • Drink a glass of water
  • Write my penpal back
That’s right.   I’m too lazy to even get up off the couch to get myself a glass of water.   I got home from work this evening, and I ordered too much Chinese food for delivery, and then I ate way too much of that Chinese food.  I’m either really useless, or super zen.   Let’s go with zen.
After all, I’m too lazy to beat up on myself.
And my fortune cookie reads: Are your legs tired?  You been running through someone’s mind ALL day long.
I think I just got hit on by a fortune cookie.  And the cat is so hungry, he just tried to eat the paper.
I am so zen.
Just sayin’.

Caffeine

Considering the severity of my lifelong battle with insomnia, I don’t think it should shock anyone to hear me say that I have a complex relationship with caffeine.  I’ve relied on it pretty heavily during the weeks when I’ve only managed to eek out a few hours of sleep.  It’s been my savior many afternoons when I sit at my desk, fighting the bobblehead after not getting a full night before.

The problem is, after I’ve had quite a bit of caffeine to keep myself awake all day, it continues to keep me up all night.  Or at least, well later than I should be staying up after not sleeping much the night before.   It’s a cycle, you see.  A big nasty gnarly cycle.  And the only way out of it is to suffer.

So after the last couple of weeks of really crappy sleep, I decided it was time to give it up.  Again.  This isn’t the first time, and if after a period of abstinence, I go back to it, it’ll happen again.

So, I haven’t had any caffeine since Saturday.  This week has been hell, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed by the folks around me.  Getting out of bed is just brutal.  I have been sleeping, but it’s just this exhaustion that’s been building as the week goes on.  I’m hoping some sort of reboot will be possible this weekend.  I’ve been powering through, though, and I know I’m going to make it.

The thing that puzzles me about all this, though, is the reactions of some co-workers.  “WHY!?!  Why would you do that?”,  ” You can’t do that!”, or “No, you don’t have to give up caffeine; you just have work out, or go to bed earlier, or something.”

Seriously, what’s the big deal about me not having caffeine?  It’s not like I’m asking them to do it.  What difference does it make to them at all?  If anything, it just means there’s more coffee in the pot for them.   But you’d think I had said that I was thinking about giving up my US citizenship or something.

And you can’t be a little bit supportive?  I mean, just a simple, “Dude, that sounds rough, but you can do it!”  I’m really not expecting much, except maybe a little patience.

I really like coffee and Coke Zero, but I can and will live without them.  And it’ll be fine.  I mean, in a couple days, when I’m not a raging asshole, because I’m so fucking tired.  And it’s not going to screw up anyone else’s day if I’m not having it.

Just sayin’.