StrongandBrave

This is a quick one because I have 10 million work things to do. However, too egregious not to share.

So. Walking to CVS with my friend Sarah, and some guy yells “Hey! Excuse me! You, in the green shirt!” I turn around, guy goes “You were supposed to have dinner with me last night!”

It probably goes without saying that I did not actually know this person, nor did I have meal plans with him last night or ever.

I politely informed him he had me confused with someone else and walked away.

However, this raises two important questions for me: has anyone I know ever actually tried to meet someone this way? And: if you have approached by/approached someone else in this manner, has it ever actually worked?

Please share. I’m dying to know.

[Insert requisite "oh hey sorry i haven't blogged in forever" here.]

okay great.

pop quiz: what’s wrong with this paragraph?

“On a chilly evening last fall, a raid on a dogfight in Chicago’s Englewood neighborhood on the south side turned up more than 50 people, including a pregnant woman and a few juveniles, in a basement watching dogs fight a bloody battle.”

so, yes, dogfighting is bad. and terrible and disgusting and sad. and i very much support the humane society working to eradicate it completely.

what i take issue with is the humane society specifically calling out the pregnant woman in the audience – as though her presence at a dogfight is somehow more immoral than the fight itself. because she’s merely a vessel for her fetus, you know? and when we see a pregnant woman doing something we don’t approve of, we have the right to judge her, on account of her precious, precious cargo that requires her to give up her right to self-determination…

gag.

yes, it sucks that 50 people attended a dog fight. bad news. but the humane society, like people for the ethical treatment of animals, needs to learn to stick to the issue at hand. dog fighting is appalling on it’s own, and there’s no reason to invoke a woman and reduce her to her reproductive status in order to prove that point.

so please, please, please keep up the good work — but stop practicing sexism while you fight animal cruelty.

thanks.

My Twitter addiction may be getting out of hand, but the reason I haven’t blogged in forever is that A) things got crazy busy with the move and such and B) I didn’t think anyone would notice.

There are things to blog about though. Here are some: I took a cross country road trip and now I live in Boston. So here are more than 140 characters worth of thoughts about things.

For starters, Boston. I live, actually in south Allston, about a mile from Harvard Square. I walk through Harvard a lot and have yet to run into Matt Damon. This is fine with me, because I hate Matt Damon, but I guess I sort of figured he’d just stick around there, reminding us that he wrote Good Will Hunting. Although now that I think about it, I read somewhere that he didn’t.

Things I have observed about Boston:

The “Massholes” thing is way overblown. People in Boston are not that bad. I mean, it’s nothing like the Midwest, but if everywhere was as friendly as the Midwest, other countries wouldn’t take us seriously. All you need to know to get around in Boston is: don’t make eye contact; don’t smile or say “hi” to anyone you don’t know; and saying “Excuse me” is for pussies.

For example: the mailman just walked into my office. When Lindsay said “hi” he said “hey”, but when she said “thank you!” he said “’kay” instead of “you’re welcome.”

Honking is a legitimate form of self-expression. You remember that old comedy bit about how “fuck” is the most versatile word in the English language? In Boston, it’s honking. You don’t just honk to avoid danger. You honk to express your feelings.

There are no corners or intersections. Only Squares. So Boston has so much history, they have declared every intersection of two streets to be a Square and named it after someone. On Saturday in Cambridge I passed Bunny Hill Square. In my neighborhood in Allston, every corner sorry, Square has a plaque and a little wreath and a little flag attached to the street signs.

Bonus trivia: I used to think there were no Happy Hours in Boston because they thought it would mess with their surly East Coast image. Turns out, it’s Blue Laws.

What I am doing right now is watching a blizzard from inside the terminal at DIA. Where I should be is on a flight to Los Angeles, but the blizzard that wasn’t decided to prove its existence at 3 p.m., which was when I left my office for the bus. I missed checking in for my flight by 10 minutes, spent the next 10 waiting for “Special Assistance” and am now booked on the next flight.
Even better, the next flight is scheduled to take off during the peak of this storm.
Power is fluctuating in Denver and we’re all gonna die.
I would like to point out that this is my second flight this spring that has been preceded by 70 degree weather but coincided with a giant snowstorm. Is this an argument for never leaving Denver because Nature clearly conspires to keep me here, or an argument for getting out of here as soon as humanly possible?
The person sitting at this gate with me has now called 7 people and had the exact same conversation about his flight status. Mr. Phone Guy, meet Twitter. Twitter, Mr. Phone Guy needs you.

Am I the only person who has not impressed by this article ? Or maybe it’s less the article itself and more that Scarlett Johansson thinks she should get a cookie for writing it…

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I hate tabloids…I had an eating disorder…I think a healthy body image is important. But there are some things here that leave a bad taste in my mouth. Like maybe the fact that Johansson is criticizing the tabloids, which exist to make famous movie people more famous…and being a famous movie person herself, she gets millions and millions of dollars by participating in this industry.

The whole thing seems a little defensive, first of all…like she has to talk about how healthy she is to justify that fact that she’s pissed that her weight is being criticized. Why not start from the premise that it’s fucking obnoxious and ridiculous to have your weight commented on in the press? That it doesn’t matter whether you weigh 200 pounds or 98, whether you exist on a diet of McDonald’s or cocaine and vodka, whether you work out daily or never? It’s no one’s fucking business but yours? Oh right. Because you get paid to look the way you do. So you need to say things like

Eating healthy and getting fit is about commitment, determination, consistency and the dedication to self-preservation.

Yes, and having the time to exercise – you know between the day shift and night shift, shuttling the kids from school to the babysitter, etc. Oh and being able to afford things like fruits and vegetables, and lean proteins. For an entire family. When you make minimum wage. In a recession. If only the average American could show a little more commitment…determination…consistency. If only we could dedicate ourselves to “self-preservation.”

Right. Then we start in on the eating disorders. And how “the media” is selling these unrealistic images that make us insecure. I will admit to starting my own subscription to seventeen magazine when I was all of 10 years old. And starting my first “diet” about a year later. But you know who was on the cover of the issues of seventeen that led to my unhealthy body image? Alicia Silverstone, Claire Danes, Brandy…what I mean is, “the media” (by which I think you mean just the magazines?) doesn’t just come up with “images.” Actresses, singers, talk show hostesses exist and make money on their unrealistic body images on our televisions and movie screens every day. The tabloids just appeal to the insecurities you’ve already created by allowing us to gloat a little that you’re “just like us” and you get bloated when you’re on your period, too.

And yes, it is appalling that the magazine can make $1.4 million dollars by appealing to that part of human nature that enjoys seeing our objects of lust and envy exposed. It’s gross and it’s sad. But think about how the exposure you get in these magazines increases your name recognition…and your box office. And, um, your paycheck.

You know what, Ms. Johansson? I bet that poor, sweet, naive 15-year-old in Kansas City is going to go see your movie, and be just as affected by the sight of you in your latex catsuit as she is by you on the cover of US Weekly. Perhaps you and a few other bankable female actresses could get together and say something like, “Hey, so Hollywood, we were thinking maybe you could take the latex catsuits and shove them up your collective ass because we are no longer going to appear in your shitty movies that exploit our bodies and waste our considerable talent to titillate the male movie-going audience.”

Because here’s the thing, Ms. Johansson. It’s not just the images in the tabloids that affect the way young women think about their bodies. The images you put on the screen make us feel inadequate and shitty, too. Oh, and they give men permission to have appallingly unrealistic expectations for what we should look like, so our first boyfriends feel comfortable commenting about our bellies, or thighs or breasts because they sure as hell don’t look like Scarlet Johansson’s in her latex catsuit. I still get nervous before I sleep with someone for the first time, because when I was 18 and it was my first time, my charming “boyfriend” offered to help me come up with a workout regimen.

And while we’re at it, maybe some actors could jump on this bandwagon, too. Because it would be really nice if they noticed that they get to wear twice as much clothing as their female action movie costars. That their cellulite and pimples are on the cover of US Weekly only half as much. And that they get to work well into their crow’s-feet-having, belly-expanding, grey-haired middle age, while the roles for women become fewer and further between.

Just a thought, you know? Maybe instead of whining about the unfair beauty standards of the industry you work in, you decide to take some responsibility for changing it?

[Sidebar, does anyone else remember when US was a reputable monthly magazine, with interesting interviews and really good photography? I used to subscribe and then one month I got a tabloid instead and I was very confused.]

I need to get unlimited texting on my cell phone plan. It seems like a funny trend to me, but people who I am newly friends with seem to prefer excessive texting to other forms of developing our connection. Maybe I’m a little old-fashioned about this, but I usually think actually hanging out in person is key to becoming friends and then texting is the shorthand communication for people you already know pretty well.

In other news, I met with my landlord yesterday afternoon to discuss the break in. He has a theory, which is that one of my friends stole the laptop and sold it for pot. There are a few things I explained to him, like all of my friends have nicer laptops than I do. And if any of my friends were really hard up for pot money they would probably just ask me and I would give it to them. He sort of smirked and said he’s been doing this for a long time. Good to know that my friends are delinquents. Thanks, landlord.

I am also getting bars on one of my three windows. What’s the point of that?, you might be tempted to ask. The answer is a mystery to me as well. But I assume I will now be 30% safer than I was before, which is great.

I think I’m going to be moving soon.

I have very good intentions about blogging about more interesting things soon, but it’s Friday and it’s 6 p.m. and I think I ought to be leaving the office.

i miss my cat. or, the story of how i came to be sitting on my friend’s couch at 1146 p.m. instead of sleeping in my apartment.

someone broke into my apartment on saturday night. they removed the screen from my living room window and came in and took my laptop. i was not home when this happened. to be honest, there is a good chance i was making out in a hallway when this happened, which i guess is what most of us would rather be doing than witnessing a break in.

i am now convinced this was their second attempt to break into my apartment. i think it was wednesday night that was windy and freezy and disgusting out, and i was sleeping, and my bedroom window suddenly opened. this woke me up right away because suddenly the windy and freezy was in my bedroom.

half asleep, i jump out of bed and close and latch the window, assuming a very strong wind had blown it open. but on saturday morning i looked out the window and realized that the very strong wind had also removed my window screen…and propped it against the side of my building?

but it’s amazing how niave a girl can be.  i thought nothing of it. on saturday i left my house at 830 p.m. went to a friend’s house and came home at 2 a.m. and my living room window was open. and i thought fucking a, it’s been really windy lately. closed the window, went to bed.

i slept in on sunday morning and when i got up i had some toast and decided it was a good day to play loud music and clean my apartment. i don’t have a stereo, so i was going to play music on my laptop, except it was not on the table where i had left it. it wasn’t anywhere in my apartment. it was at that point i noticed black smudgy fingerprints on the wall next to the window. yeah, the one that had been open when i got home. and dirt on the couch under the window. oh and the window screen was pulled off that window, too.

so i did call the police at that point. and they came over and confirmed that my apartment had been broken into (thanks!) and my laptop was indeed stolen (for the validation!). i also called my landlord, who has no intention of putting bars on the windows of my garden level apartment. he does want to meet with me on wednesday, in person, to discuss thevirtues of venitian blinds. fucking amazing.

anyway, so i mentioned this dirt, right? burglar dirt? on my couch? so this evening i was very, very brave and went home after work. but when i started to put clean sheets on my bed i found more burglar dirt. on my quilt. this means that my burgling friend spent some time in my bedroom, because the quilt was definitely on my bed. at that point i decided i was done with the brave and came here to kelly’s. she has two dogs, the larger of which is sitting next to me on the couch right now.

things i did before leaving the house saturday night when someone was possibly watching me and waiting for me to leave my apartment:

- watched the l word.

- peed with the bathroom door open.

- walked around in my bra and jeans.

- put on and removed three shirts.

- danced to regina spektor in the living room.

i hope you enjoyed the show. fucker.

I don’t have a lot of time for this post because it’s Friday and I have all kinds of things to do. One of them is going to the Colorado Ballet, for the record. It’s a performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream which is a longtime favorite of mine. So I was getting final directions and logistical information just now, and I noticed that the Ballet is also organizing Girls’ Night Out this spring.

Apparently this means you get a free drink with your ballet.  This made me think a little bit on some things. Primarily, why does “Girls’ Night” or “Ladies’ Night” or whatever always mean giving women free booze? Why can’t it be Girls’ Night featuring music that doesn’t suck, or conversations about equal pay, or a free subscription to Bitch magazine?

Secondly, why is it “girls” having a night out. As though adult women don’t have fun ever? Or in order to have fun we have to act very juvenile?

And finally, why do so many people insist on spelling it Girl’s Night? It’s not a night out for one “girl”, right? Ideally it’s a night out for a group of “girls” together, therefore the apostrophe belongs after the ’s’. Thanks for your consideration.

The FREE Mall Ride is simultaneously the best and worst thing about life in downtown Denver. First of all it’s FREE. And it takes you from one end of the Mall to the other. It’s very important to always capitalize FREE when referring to the Mall Ride. On the sides of the buses, signage and literature, it’s always the “FREE Mall Ride.” This is to remind you, should you be tempted to complain, that you didn’t pay anything to ride the bus, so STFU.

And public transportation really is the great equalizer. Everyone rides the FREE Mall Ride – businesspeople take it to and from the Light Rail (which takes them to the suburbs and is therefore not FREE), Downtown Denver employees take it from one assignment to the next, tourists ride it to ESPN Zone, high school students ride it because the acoustics are great for shrieking at each other…you get the idea.

Thursday is a raucous night for FREE Mall Ride aficionados. Out-of-towners are nearly done with their conferences and are ready to let their hair down. Things get a little crazy.

Tonight, I stood behind a guy who kept tapping his right shoe against one of the poles on the FREE Mall Ride. He’d tap the instep three times, tap the outside three times and then reach down and squeeze his calf. Then he’s squeeze the other calf, I guess to compare the two. Then he’d resume tapping. Three taps on each side, calf squeeze, calf squeeze, repeat. I guess we should all take every opportunity for physical fitness. Once or twice he’d interrupt the ritual to turn and wave to some people behind me.

I didn’t want to be rude, so I didn’t get a chance to see who he was was waving to until we disembarked. His friends were a man and a woman with some shopping bags. Not the craziest thing I have seen on the Mall. Oh and some teddy bears. The dude had a brown teddy bear and his lady friend had a pink one. But the bears were not in the shopping bags. They had zipped the teddy bears into their coats, facing outwards. Sort of like the yuppie baby transporters that allow baby to stare at people as you walk down the street. But with teddy bears. The only better time to ride the FREE Mall Ride is Saturday before noon. More on that later.

Also, two honorable mentions from the Classic Stuff I’ve Seen on the FREE Mall Ride files:

Guy Sniffing Paint Thinner from a Paper Bag;

and Seat Full of Urine.

i just wanted to let you know that after being accosted by yet another of your poorly trained canvassers today, i went home and burned some coal. and then i kicked a baby seal.

love,

mari