I LOVE MARU THE CAT.
I wish Alice were nearly as cute as this cat. Unfortunately, she always has her bishface on.
4.25.2009
4.15.2009
Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it
I almost punched a security guard at the Connecticut Valley Historical museum today. I held it in, which is good, because he was probably an ex cop.
One of my coworkers left Benjamin Ricci's Crimes Against Humanity at work, and I borrowed it because I had Jury Duty today (again) and he's off until Friday. The book is about the class action suit that ultimately closed the Belchertown State School. I worked with three of the named plaintiffs in the case. He talked about the expose series written in the Springfield Union about the horrible treatment being given to the school's residents. Like beatings and rapes and humiliation and isolation. Deplorable sanitary conditions and an indifferent administration. It was called "The Tragedy of Belchertown."
The book had the wrong dates listed for the article's print dates, as did Wikipedia. So I asked the woman at the library's reference desk about looking it up and she sent me to the museum where they have clippings files for a lot of the news in the area. I paid $7 to get into the museum.
I was kind of greeted by an older gentleman sitting in a folding chair against the back wall of the building. He was talking to an older woman who had her back to the door. I asked where to find the museum (there are few records collections in this one building) and he directed me to sign in.
"What are you looking for?"
"Some articles about the State School."
"Oh, are you a student?"
"No. I was reading a book and they were mentioned...and I work for the state and both of my parents worked there..."
"I heard they're turning it into a spa or something."
"Yeah, they ran out of money or something."
"You know what they should do with it?" At this point I was prepared for some sort currently socially sound or environmentally friendly idea. Recreation parks. A golf course. Something of that sort. "They should open it back up."
The woman sitting across from him piped up with a story of a homeless man she sees in the winter who just sits there with no winter coat and they go back and forth about how it would be better for everyone, us and them, if they reopened those buildings. "I bet your parents would be for it."
This is the part where I almost lost it. "Actually, I'm pretty sure a lot of the old state school workers think community homes are a good thing. And the buildings have been stripped down by looters that they wouldn't be able to refurbish them."
"Well they should knock them down and put up a new hospital."
Of course they should. Because it worked so well in the past.
One of my coworkers left Benjamin Ricci's Crimes Against Humanity at work, and I borrowed it because I had Jury Duty today (again) and he's off until Friday. The book is about the class action suit that ultimately closed the Belchertown State School. I worked with three of the named plaintiffs in the case. He talked about the expose series written in the Springfield Union about the horrible treatment being given to the school's residents. Like beatings and rapes and humiliation and isolation. Deplorable sanitary conditions and an indifferent administration. It was called "The Tragedy of Belchertown."
The book had the wrong dates listed for the article's print dates, as did Wikipedia. So I asked the woman at the library's reference desk about looking it up and she sent me to the museum where they have clippings files for a lot of the news in the area. I paid $7 to get into the museum.
I was kind of greeted by an older gentleman sitting in a folding chair against the back wall of the building. He was talking to an older woman who had her back to the door. I asked where to find the museum (there are few records collections in this one building) and he directed me to sign in.
"What are you looking for?"
"Some articles about the State School."
"Oh, are you a student?"
"No. I was reading a book and they were mentioned...and I work for the state and both of my parents worked there..."
"I heard they're turning it into a spa or something."
"Yeah, they ran out of money or something."
"You know what they should do with it?" At this point I was prepared for some sort currently socially sound or environmentally friendly idea. Recreation parks. A golf course. Something of that sort. "They should open it back up."
The woman sitting across from him piped up with a story of a homeless man she sees in the winter who just sits there with no winter coat and they go back and forth about how it would be better for everyone, us and them, if they reopened those buildings. "I bet your parents would be for it."
This is the part where I almost lost it. "Actually, I'm pretty sure a lot of the old state school workers think community homes are a good thing. And the buildings have been stripped down by looters that they wouldn't be able to refurbish them."
"Well they should knock them down and put up a new hospital."
Of course they should. Because it worked so well in the past.
4.13.2009
What I remember v. what people think
this is the copy with the picture: "'Hallelujah' Lyrics, Belchertown State School
Kailey Peacey, Brian Snyder and I drove to the State School today that used to house the mentally handicapped. Story goes this is the worse state school in the country. It was abandoned in the 70's when it was found the patients were mistreated and often just left to die off by the nurses and staff."
The picture is amazing, but lets be for real: There is a lack of fact checking that irks the editor in me. There's a whole Wiki for the love of Pete.
Kailey Peacey, Brian Snyder and I drove to the State School today that used to house the mentally handicapped. Story goes this is the worse state school in the country. It was abandoned in the 70's when it was found the patients were mistreated and often just left to die off by the nurses and staff."
The picture is amazing, but lets be for real: There is a lack of fact checking that irks the editor in me. There's a whole Wiki for the love of Pete.
4.12.2009
The blind leading the fashion stupid.
I've been watching American Idol this season. One of my coworkers is really into it and there is no runway as of yet, so I need some reality competition to get into that doesn't involve "alliances." One of the contestants was (he was voted off this week) legally blind. If I remember correctly, he retains a small percentage of his peripheral vision. He's a really good singer and a phenomenal piano player, but his talent isn't what made him stand out to me.
It was the interaction he had with all the Idol Heads. Like Paula crying while she called him an inspiration for "being himself (blind)." Every week. Aside from the disability ass kissing, I kind of felt a perverse pleasure at watching what the producers were going to require him to do next. One week, when he was in the bottom three, Seacrest dragged across the stage, just to drag him back to the couch with his next sentence. The final group performance involved multiple stair ascents and descents. There were quite a few quick camera changes where he staring at the wrong camera.
I guess what I really am upset by is the fact that no one told FOX, Idol, or Seacreast anything about the ettiquette of being a sighted guide. Scott was literally dragged from one point to another by Seacrest. By the upper arm. Every week. For over a month.
Moving on. Am I the only person a little irked by the Sash and the Circle scarf and the multitude of other overpriced items being sold by American Apparel that could easily be called "One seam Accessory A" and "A ribbon does the same thing." Seriously. Both have multiple ways to wear them. And at $16 and $30-$40 for a $5 peice of fabric, it seems like paying for the lable is taking a new gouging stance.
Ugh.
It was the interaction he had with all the Idol Heads. Like Paula crying while she called him an inspiration for "being himself (blind)." Every week. Aside from the disability ass kissing, I kind of felt a perverse pleasure at watching what the producers were going to require him to do next. One week, when he was in the bottom three, Seacrest dragged across the stage, just to drag him back to the couch with his next sentence. The final group performance involved multiple stair ascents and descents. There were quite a few quick camera changes where he staring at the wrong camera.
I guess what I really am upset by is the fact that no one told FOX, Idol, or Seacreast anything about the ettiquette of being a sighted guide. Scott was literally dragged from one point to another by Seacrest. By the upper arm. Every week. For over a month.
Moving on. Am I the only person a little irked by the Sash and the Circle scarf and the multitude of other overpriced items being sold by American Apparel that could easily be called "One seam Accessory A" and "A ribbon does the same thing." Seriously. Both have multiple ways to wear them. And at $16 and $30-$40 for a $5 peice of fabric, it seems like paying for the lable is taking a new gouging stance.
Ugh.
2.13.2009
worded
I was an english major. Possibly the worst english major in the world as devoting YEARS of my young adult life to classic literature just never made sense. But my goal in life was to be a fact checker for Dennis Publications.
I married a vocabulary snob. I had to explain to my husband over lunch last week that feckless is not in the vernacular of his average peer. His argument was that they should have learned it by watching movies. I wanted to know what movies. His answer: British.
I work in a field where the combination of jargon, acronyms, and pejoratives could make your head explode. Do you know what a PCP is? Drug...? Doctor...? WRONG. It's Person Centered Planning. It is not uncommon to hear a house full of AARP eligible men referred to as boys. Watch how fast someone can lodge their foot in their throat by calling something retarded in front of the developmentally disabled. There seem to be two movements regarding words in the DMR. One is overly stuffy. These are not clients, consumers, boys, they are Indiviuals. The Individuals do not have tantrums, they exhibit socially inappropriate behaviors.
The other way is a more casual approach, towards which I lean. Replace Individuals with folks. I'm more likely to tell someone they are acting ridiculous than socially inappropriate. And I work with the guys and ladies.
I am a blog reader. Because you can't swing a cat without hitting a blog reader. I read Jezebel like it's the only internet on the tubes. And this came through today. So the initial problem was that Laura, of PR Season 3 fame, called her nannies "girls" in an interview. And maybe this makes me a bad feminist, or maybe just a product of my environment, but I didn't blink at it. It didn't even send a flare off in my brain that there was a problem. Or even that anyone would be offended by it.
Is it really that big a deal, or do people just need to lighten up?
I married a vocabulary snob. I had to explain to my husband over lunch last week that feckless is not in the vernacular of his average peer. His argument was that they should have learned it by watching movies. I wanted to know what movies. His answer: British.
I work in a field where the combination of jargon, acronyms, and pejoratives could make your head explode. Do you know what a PCP is? Drug...? Doctor...? WRONG. It's Person Centered Planning. It is not uncommon to hear a house full of AARP eligible men referred to as boys. Watch how fast someone can lodge their foot in their throat by calling something retarded in front of the developmentally disabled. There seem to be two movements regarding words in the DMR. One is overly stuffy. These are not clients, consumers, boys, they are Indiviuals. The Individuals do not have tantrums, they exhibit socially inappropriate behaviors.
The other way is a more casual approach, towards which I lean. Replace Individuals with folks. I'm more likely to tell someone they are acting ridiculous than socially inappropriate. And I work with the guys and ladies.
I am a blog reader. Because you can't swing a cat without hitting a blog reader. I read Jezebel like it's the only internet on the tubes. And this came through today. So the initial problem was that Laura, of PR Season 3 fame, called her nannies "girls" in an interview. And maybe this makes me a bad feminist, or maybe just a product of my environment, but I didn't blink at it. It didn't even send a flare off in my brain that there was a problem. Or even that anyone would be offended by it.
Is it really that big a deal, or do people just need to lighten up?
2.05.2009
I'd have flipped the second I had to say, "The engines are on fire."
I laughed really hard when air traffic was like, "We have runway one at teeterboro." And he was like, "We can't do that. We'll be in the Hudson." His completely flat affect struck me funny because I would have been screaming and convincing people to remove their seats for flotation devices.
This is in fact what he said....
I would have had a heart attack. "If you look out of the leftside of the plane, you will see a marvelous view of New York City. YOU MAY ALSO NOTICE(?!?!?!?) that the port engine is on fire."
1.27.2009
Two great videos.
I ran into these via reddit and think they are great. Top is the M/F version. Bottom is the M/M version.
1.13.2009
With the clarity and straighforwardness of a small child.
The winter holidays are gone. But there were a few highlights:
Basler xmas... Everyone was curious about married life. I told them it was pretty much the same. My aunt's dog humped a number of small children. There was A LOT delicious food. Stewart WiiFit the crap out of my cousins, because he cannot make himself lose. There was some sort of yankee swap related drinking game, but I don't participate in the swaps, so I didn't do that either. Ben cried this year, because he did not realize a Best Buy gift card in basically interchangeable with a Toys "R" Us gift card in as far as buying video games.
Awkward high: When my grandfather asked to see the Christmas in heaven ornaments my aunt had gotten to commemorate my grandmother's death. They did not get along.
Favorite moment: Sitting with my grampa looking at his pocket scrapbook of things he's made this year out of industrial scraps. I definitely get my craftyperson tendencies from that side of the family. Also the trash picking tendencies.
Funniest moment: My sister, Caitlin, Sticking my uncle Chris with a jewelry box at the end of the swap because she wanted a toothbrush. And because of the two toothbrush holder, Chris was less likely to break her wrists.
We spent xmas eve at my cousin's house with her family. Thses family gatherings are the craziest because of the kids. Ella, Brooke and Colin are the cutest kids evar. Best moment was Colin (age 4) stomping around the house in a frilly witch costume air punching and chanting, "Get out of my way, get out of my way!"
The day was uneventful, as was New Years. And now life gets on.
Most notably, I was transfered from the house in Amherst to Southampton. The difference is astounding. I went from working in a house with heavy behavioral intervention nonsense and low care requirements to a house with pretty much no behavior element and total care.
And to my own shock, I prefer it. I liked my old boss and (most of) the old staff. I definitely clicked with some of the guys more than others. But I love my new situation. It's great, the entire staff, the house climate--It's all great so far.
Basler xmas... Everyone was curious about married life. I told them it was pretty much the same. My aunt's dog humped a number of small children. There was A LOT delicious food. Stewart WiiFit the crap out of my cousins, because he cannot make himself lose. There was some sort of yankee swap related drinking game, but I don't participate in the swaps, so I didn't do that either. Ben cried this year, because he did not realize a Best Buy gift card in basically interchangeable with a Toys "R" Us gift card in as far as buying video games.
Awkward high: When my grandfather asked to see the Christmas in heaven ornaments my aunt had gotten to commemorate my grandmother's death. They did not get along.
Favorite moment: Sitting with my grampa looking at his pocket scrapbook of things he's made this year out of industrial scraps. I definitely get my craftyperson tendencies from that side of the family. Also the trash picking tendencies.
Funniest moment: My sister, Caitlin, Sticking my uncle Chris with a jewelry box at the end of the swap because she wanted a toothbrush. And because of the two toothbrush holder, Chris was less likely to break her wrists.
We spent xmas eve at my cousin's house with her family. Thses family gatherings are the craziest because of the kids. Ella, Brooke and Colin are the cutest kids evar. Best moment was Colin (age 4) stomping around the house in a frilly witch costume air punching and chanting, "Get out of my way, get out of my way!"
The day was uneventful, as was New Years. And now life gets on.
Most notably, I was transfered from the house in Amherst to Southampton. The difference is astounding. I went from working in a house with heavy behavioral intervention nonsense and low care requirements to a house with pretty much no behavior element and total care.
And to my own shock, I prefer it. I liked my old boss and (most of) the old staff. I definitely clicked with some of the guys more than others. But I love my new situation. It's great, the entire staff, the house climate--It's all great so far.
9.25.2008
Damn the man!
The wedding went wonderfully. It was the most perfect day Stewart and I could have had and it encompassed everything we wanted. We had this prety great party and got hitched at it.
We received two pieces of mail the other day that excited me unexpectedly. The first was our marriage certificate! Now we have a piece of paper to prove our commitment. The second was the electric bill. Our first piece of mail with the new name on it. The thrill was short lived.
Now, I'm ass-deep in paperwork trying to get the name changing rolling. For two. I don't mind filling out the forms. It's better that I do it anyway, being that my handwriting is mostly legible. What I am taking issue with is how many places want their own special copy of my marriage license. That is not one cheap piece of paper. At $10 a pop, for at least 5 different departments, by two...it's a bit pricey. It doesn't include banks or jobs either. Honestly, I'm disinclined to pay for any of them except for the social security office, considering I can use my license to get everything else. Except for Stewart's replacement passport.
Ef this beauracracy.
We received two pieces of mail the other day that excited me unexpectedly. The first was our marriage certificate! Now we have a piece of paper to prove our commitment. The second was the electric bill. Our first piece of mail with the new name on it. The thrill was short lived.
Now, I'm ass-deep in paperwork trying to get the name changing rolling. For two. I don't mind filling out the forms. It's better that I do it anyway, being that my handwriting is mostly legible. What I am taking issue with is how many places want their own special copy of my marriage license. That is not one cheap piece of paper. At $10 a pop, for at least 5 different departments, by two...it's a bit pricey. It doesn't include banks or jobs either. Honestly, I'm disinclined to pay for any of them except for the social security office, considering I can use my license to get everything else. Except for Stewart's replacement passport.
Ef this beauracracy.
9.08.2008
-licious
So, I've been bust planning the wedding and doing all the other nonsense that goes into getting married. It's making me realize a lot of things about myself.
I've acquired a label more shocking to those who know me than wife: I'm a feminist. And it's not in any mild way.
When Stewberto and I went to get our marriage license, we had to make a snap judgment about our last name. We had decided we were just going to append both names to both of us and go by Mylast HisLast. That way, if we ever had a family, both family names would be passed on. Upon entering the clerks office and filling out a series of paperwork (and never being asked for ID), the clerk informed us we could not just go by Mylast Hislast. It was either Mylast or Hislast or the hyphen.
I am opposed to the hyphen. I have always been opposed. But I also don't believe in just giving up my name. I've been me for this long, and my name is part of my identity. I offered just changing it to muffin as a solution. It was not well received. And I was on the edge of a meltdown when Stewberto said, "But if I change my last name, I'll have to fill out new paperwork for everything."
"What does this face say to you?" This is my stock tongue-lashing opener. "It says, 'Cry me a fucking river, Stewart.'"
The clerk stepped in and told us we could make our decision and call her in the morning, because it wasn't going to be typed up until the morning anyway. In the end, it was a financial concern. It costs $180 to add a middle name to your records in the state of Mass. So, now we are hyphenated. And we can sit together at the RMV, wait in line together at the social security office and apply for new passports together, Isn't that what marriage is all about?
But my stubborn refusal to give him the administrative easy way out isn't where the feminism comes in today. I worked double shift today. And the guys were watching the US troops, "We love America," kind of famous people studded Concert/circle-jerk. And Kathy Griffin (who, feminist or not, is one of my heroes for unabashedly embracing her loud, obnoxious, tactless self and forcing people to laugh at themselves) made some comment about how this group must be really talented because they were discovered by the Pussycat Dolls: GIRLISCIOUS! And she clapped and cheered in a way reminiscent of Kermit introducing the acts on the Muppet Show.
And out pranced Girliscious in their spangled tank tops and four inch stiletto boots. Oh, wait! Those aren't tank tops. They're dresses. And the majority of the dance move involve bending over? And wiggling. I understand this is a floor show for the troops, but I know enough about the pussycat dolls and their progeny to know that this is actually a mild costume, song and dance.
It isn't the sexual suggestive lyrics. It isn't bedroom hair or makeup. It isn't even the spangly tank top/dresses that all ti in the back. It's not that these girls can't sing, or that it isn't an impressive feat to do high impact aerobics and still be able to speak, let alone sing.
It is that these women, who do have talent, need to tease glimpses of their cooch to get a record deal.
And even more so, it's the hypersexualization of every aspect of the media.
Ultimately, the thing that I am opposed to is that there is no filter in between the writhing and moaning that is on the tv for the troops and Marissa, my seven year-old cousin. Because Girliscious isn't just a singing group. It's a burlesque troop. It's a brand. It was a competition. It was a reality show. Girliscious "oozes a sex appeal so innocent, it hurts." They are more than delicious...they're GIRLISCIOUS!
Aside from making me want to slap the website's copywriter for incongruent adjective and olfactory senses, it disgusts me by taking the Madonna/Whore issue to a whole new level. I can tell you there is nothing innocent about spangly aprons with hooker boots and that an allusion to blue balls should not be a selling point.
But I can't tell my cousin, who better not know what blue balls are yet, either of those things. I can't keep her from singing along with her peers when "I kissed a girl (And I liked It)" comes on the radio in her school bus.
I can only hope she doesn't get any of it. My righteous indignation doesn't do her any good.
I've acquired a label more shocking to those who know me than wife: I'm a feminist. And it's not in any mild way.
When Stewberto and I went to get our marriage license, we had to make a snap judgment about our last name. We had decided we were just going to append both names to both of us and go by Mylast HisLast. That way, if we ever had a family, both family names would be passed on. Upon entering the clerks office and filling out a series of paperwork (and never being asked for ID), the clerk informed us we could not just go by Mylast Hislast. It was either Mylast or Hislast or the hyphen.
I am opposed to the hyphen. I have always been opposed. But I also don't believe in just giving up my name. I've been me for this long, and my name is part of my identity. I offered just changing it to muffin as a solution. It was not well received. And I was on the edge of a meltdown when Stewberto said, "But if I change my last name, I'll have to fill out new paperwork for everything."
"What does this face say to you?" This is my stock tongue-lashing opener. "It says, 'Cry me a fucking river, Stewart.'"
The clerk stepped in and told us we could make our decision and call her in the morning, because it wasn't going to be typed up until the morning anyway. In the end, it was a financial concern. It costs $180 to add a middle name to your records in the state of Mass. So, now we are hyphenated. And we can sit together at the RMV, wait in line together at the social security office and apply for new passports together, Isn't that what marriage is all about?
But my stubborn refusal to give him the administrative easy way out isn't where the feminism comes in today. I worked double shift today. And the guys were watching the US troops, "We love America," kind of famous people studded Concert/circle-jerk. And Kathy Griffin (who, feminist or not, is one of my heroes for unabashedly embracing her loud, obnoxious, tactless self and forcing people to laugh at themselves) made some comment about how this group must be really talented because they were discovered by the Pussycat Dolls: GIRLISCIOUS! And she clapped and cheered in a way reminiscent of Kermit introducing the acts on the Muppet Show.
And out pranced Girliscious in their spangled tank tops and four inch stiletto boots. Oh, wait! Those aren't tank tops. They're dresses. And the majority of the dance move involve bending over? And wiggling. I understand this is a floor show for the troops, but I know enough about the pussycat dolls and their progeny to know that this is actually a mild costume, song and dance.
It isn't the sexual suggestive lyrics. It isn't bedroom hair or makeup. It isn't even the spangly tank top/dresses that all ti in the back. It's not that these girls can't sing, or that it isn't an impressive feat to do high impact aerobics and still be able to speak, let alone sing.
It is that these women, who do have talent, need to tease glimpses of their cooch to get a record deal.
And even more so, it's the hypersexualization of every aspect of the media.
Ultimately, the thing that I am opposed to is that there is no filter in between the writhing and moaning that is on the tv for the troops and Marissa, my seven year-old cousin. Because Girliscious isn't just a singing group. It's a burlesque troop. It's a brand. It was a competition. It was a reality show. Girliscious "oozes a sex appeal so innocent, it hurts." They are more than delicious...they're GIRLISCIOUS!
Aside from making me want to slap the website's copywriter for incongruent adjective and olfactory senses, it disgusts me by taking the Madonna/Whore issue to a whole new level. I can tell you there is nothing innocent about spangly aprons with hooker boots and that an allusion to blue balls should not be a selling point.
But I can't tell my cousin, who better not know what blue balls are yet, either of those things. I can't keep her from singing along with her peers when "I kissed a girl (And I liked It)" comes on the radio in her school bus.
I can only hope she doesn't get any of it. My righteous indignation doesn't do her any good.
7.31.2008
Apparently less of an asshole now.
I've been watching an unprecedented amount of political coverage. And Tucker Carlson is all over MSNBC tonight. It would seem that after his run in with Jon Stewart (was that four years ago already?), and his unceremonious departure from CNN, Tucker became a man. His O'Reilly buttboy schtick went out the window with the bow tie. He either gained some weight or lost some of his unbearable cockiness since the last time I paid attention to him on the tv, and he looks more mature. Even his voice doesn't make me twitch anymore. Ok, when he gets shrill and excited, it still does, but the normal tambor does not.
And on the flip side of my brain (and my attention span for the evening), this woman has the most amazing make up tutorials I have ever seen. And she does it in a personable way. So, go learn how to put on liquid eyeliner.
And on the flip side of my brain (and my attention span for the evening), this woman has the most amazing make up tutorials I have ever seen. And she does it in a personable way. So, go learn how to put on liquid eyeliner.
7.22.2008
Exorcising.
I'm pretty sure it is a combination of the impending nuptials, my annual reminder of my life's failings, the new season of Project Runway and this article that is making me do a relationship audit.
I do not own a pair of rose-colored glasses. Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows are just Lesley Gore to me. I am not pining for anyone. In fact, it is a much more common occurrence that I will be breathing in a paper bag over my memories of the people I've been involved with than longing for them. I'm not sure if other people experience it, but I still vividly feel the discomfort and anxiety of who I used to be at just a name drop. I would call it shame. My involvement with certain people make me feel ashamed. I am sitting here starting to blush and squirm thinking about where this post could be going. It is one of my only tells when I'm caught being truly shady. My ears turn red.
I want so badly to assuage my nerves. I am in love. I'm about to commit myself until one of us dies (or kills the other) to our relationship. It feels comfortable and perfect. It is more than I ever expected. Why can't I get beyond who I used to be?
When Stewart and I met, I was at the bottom. I had been broken up with by someone I wasn't even involved with beyond humping. I was in a delicate situation with my best friend over the rift, because the two of them were also very good friends. My self worth was at a record low, having realized that I was being used as a surrogate for an unattainable girl with whom I share some personality traits--again. I hadn't been sober for longer than it took me to open a bottle in the morning. I quit my job and didn't get out of bed for a week. I met Stewart at kareoke. We both had plans for the following night. His involved some drama queens. I decided to go to my favorite bar, my two closest friends and this guy who I thought I was cool with being around, and humiliated myself in a gallon of gin and tonic. The was I summed it up the next day, hung over and watching Ace Ventura, Pet Detective with my most sensible friend, "I have no dignity and I feel like shit, but I had a really good calzone, so I guess it's a wash." And I went westward. For good.
And I need to insert here that Mike was not the worst of them, but he hit at a time where I was definitely not the best of me. I did not have the motivation to pick up and go on like I had previously. I was isolated. I was in transition. I felt like I had failed and it was the camel that broke my back. But it was the start of my metamorphosis into the grown up I am. And I hope that at least that section of shame will leave me be.
I do not own a pair of rose-colored glasses. Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows are just Lesley Gore to me. I am not pining for anyone. In fact, it is a much more common occurrence that I will be breathing in a paper bag over my memories of the people I've been involved with than longing for them. I'm not sure if other people experience it, but I still vividly feel the discomfort and anxiety of who I used to be at just a name drop. I would call it shame. My involvement with certain people make me feel ashamed. I am sitting here starting to blush and squirm thinking about where this post could be going. It is one of my only tells when I'm caught being truly shady. My ears turn red.
I want so badly to assuage my nerves. I am in love. I'm about to commit myself until one of us dies (or kills the other) to our relationship. It feels comfortable and perfect. It is more than I ever expected. Why can't I get beyond who I used to be?
When Stewart and I met, I was at the bottom. I had been broken up with by someone I wasn't even involved with beyond humping. I was in a delicate situation with my best friend over the rift, because the two of them were also very good friends. My self worth was at a record low, having realized that I was being used as a surrogate for an unattainable girl with whom I share some personality traits--again. I hadn't been sober for longer than it took me to open a bottle in the morning. I quit my job and didn't get out of bed for a week. I met Stewart at kareoke. We both had plans for the following night. His involved some drama queens. I decided to go to my favorite bar, my two closest friends and this guy who I thought I was cool with being around, and humiliated myself in a gallon of gin and tonic. The was I summed it up the next day, hung over and watching Ace Ventura, Pet Detective with my most sensible friend, "I have no dignity and I feel like shit, but I had a really good calzone, so I guess it's a wash." And I went westward. For good.
And I need to insert here that Mike was not the worst of them, but he hit at a time where I was definitely not the best of me. I did not have the motivation to pick up and go on like I had previously. I was isolated. I was in transition. I felt like I had failed and it was the camel that broke my back. But it was the start of my metamorphosis into the grown up I am. And I hope that at least that section of shame will leave me be.
7.21.2008
The Bulk Shopping Dilemma
I've been buying my meat from a wholesaler who sells nigh exclusively in the form of a 10 pound bag. There are pounds of chicken, ground beef, pork chops, sausages... Everything except the really good cuts of steak, all in a bag large enough to feed Stewart, my fiance, and I for a month. For a maximum of $15. And I buy them.
Once I buy them, I bring them home and separate everything into approximately 1 pound sections and put each chunk into a small freezer bag. Then I label them with the type and date of home storage. Then I cram them into the freezer.
I feel compelled to buy in bulk. I'm fairly successful tricking myself into thinking it's for the price breaks, but it's really because I'm lazy. I don't want to shop more than once a month, if I can avoid it.
When Stewart and I moved into our apartment, we had to curb our bulk buying due to storage concerns. I don't have space in my kitchen for two months worth of mini-wheats. The freezer has no shelves, and I got sick of the avalanche of toe shattering chicken breasts that spilled out every time I wanted to get an ice cube. Now the freezer is empty except for the ice trays and a few loaves of bread I overbought 4 months ago when there was a buy one, get two sale at the Big Y.
The moment I realized I had crossed the bridge from "I spent $30 at the grocery store and all I have is several types of cheese and some Doritos" Erin to "responsible adult, Friday evening Shopper" Erin happened on the phone. My friend, Tara, and I were catching up after she had moved in with her boyfriend. We were sort of having a surreal moment realizing we were both wandering down a very traditional path, even though our younger selves never would have seen it coming. As it turns out, Tara is buying her meat in bulk, too.
Once I buy them, I bring them home and separate everything into approximately 1 pound sections and put each chunk into a small freezer bag. Then I label them with the type and date of home storage. Then I cram them into the freezer.
I feel compelled to buy in bulk. I'm fairly successful tricking myself into thinking it's for the price breaks, but it's really because I'm lazy. I don't want to shop more than once a month, if I can avoid it.
When Stewart and I moved into our apartment, we had to curb our bulk buying due to storage concerns. I don't have space in my kitchen for two months worth of mini-wheats. The freezer has no shelves, and I got sick of the avalanche of toe shattering chicken breasts that spilled out every time I wanted to get an ice cube. Now the freezer is empty except for the ice trays and a few loaves of bread I overbought 4 months ago when there was a buy one, get two sale at the Big Y.
The moment I realized I had crossed the bridge from "I spent $30 at the grocery store and all I have is several types of cheese and some Doritos" Erin to "responsible adult, Friday evening Shopper" Erin happened on the phone. My friend, Tara, and I were catching up after she had moved in with her boyfriend. We were sort of having a surreal moment realizing we were both wandering down a very traditional path, even though our younger selves never would have seen it coming. As it turns out, Tara is buying her meat in bulk, too.
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