Comeback Bill

If only Bill Clinton would return to us as President, how happy I would be...

QAD 9/22/06

The deepest craving of human nature is the need to
be appreciated.
--William James

QAD 9/13/06

Whatever we expect with confidence becomes our own
self-fulfilling prophecy.
--Brian Tracy

We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not
by mechanical aid, but by an infinite expectation of
the dawn.
--Henry David Thoreau


I'm sad today.

Give Me a Break

The world we live in really concerns me when one of the top stories on the news this morning was, "Lindsay Lohan loses her purse at Heathrow Airport!" Maybe if she could bother to carry her own shit, this wouldn't be a late-breaking 'news' story. Oh, to be back in college discussing the state of the media today...

QAD 9/6/06

If I were asked ... to what the singular prosperity and
growing strength of Americans ought mainly to be
attributed, I should reply: To the superiority of
their women.
--Alexis de Tocqueville

An army of principles can penetrate where an army of
soldiers cannot.
--Thomas Paine

War is not the continuation of politics with different
means, it is the greatest mass-crime perpetrated on the
community of man.
--Alfred Adler

Education is not the filling of a pail,
but the lighting of a fire.
--Wiliam Butler Yeats

Peace is constructed, not fought for.
--Brent Davis

Hiding from Evil

Casey: i saw him at the mall sun.
Casey: didnt say hi
Casey: on purpose
Me: ooooh
Me: you're a badass
Casey: i dodged
Me: did you hide?
Me: like duck behind a garbage can?
Casey: ducked behind a rack at forever 21
Me: that's awesome

Grave Digger

I've been hearing quite a bit about Forbes article that some pigheaded moron (Michael Noer) wrote recently about the evils of marrying career women, so I finally decided today [while cementing my position in the land of indentured servitude by being forced to work 6 hours on a Saturday] to take a look at it. First of all, I think the definition Mr. Noer has placed on the term "career girl (not woman)" is offensive. Never mind the "girl" clause, but his definition is, "A career girl has a university-level (or higher) education, works more than 35 hours a week outside the home and makes more than $30,000 a year." I'm sorry, but in her mid-20s or higher, it's appalling that a man thinks that 30k and 35 hours a week is anywhere NEAR slaving away at a high-powered position. In today's global economy, 30k for a woman with a 4-year college education is barely enough to pay the rent and put food on the table for herself, never mind a family. It's practically an un-liveable salary in our nation's largest cities. We're also lucky if any job finds a 35 hour work week acceptable... this coming from a woman who has worked a total of just about 50 hours this week alone.

In the broader sense, I think this article brings to light some serious problems with regards to the way our patriarchial society pigeonholes women into 'acceptable' and 'unacceptable' modes of behavior. The "career girls" that Michael Noer is criticizing are doing nothing more than what society has pressured them to do for decades - be JUST LIKE MEN. "You throw like a girl," and "why are girls so sensitive? Why can't you be more like us?" are phrases we hear every day of our lives. So what have we done? In our effort to "please our men", we've gone ahead and done exactly that. They say immitation is the highest form of flattery. If so, why are men suddenly so vocal about their complaints? It's ok for men to be disgusting pigs around the house, it's socially acceptable (or at least understood) that busy "career men" have affairs at the office, it's alright if they don't want children, and they get a carte-blanche for behaviors that basically amount to inexcuseable in women. Is it really the women and their behaviors that Noer has a problem with here? I tend to wonder if it's not the fact that, when a mirror image of 'acceptable' male behavior is held up, they find that they don't much like what they see. If your expectations for women are held to such a high standard of excellence, maybe the critical lens needs to be turned inward. After all, Mr. Noer, you should be flattered - we're simply following in your footsteps. We want to be just like you. What part of that do you have such a problem with?

QAD 8/18/06

To love. To be loved. To never forget your own
insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable
violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you.

To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty
to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or
complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never
power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand.
To never look away. And never, never, to forget.
--Arundhati Roy

In this war – as in others – I am less interested in
honoring the dead than in preventing the dead.
--Butler Shaffer

FYI

Just for the record...

Do not, I repeat, DO NOT, ever call me and ask for your student ID and PIN number... and then tell me you don't have a pen. This is unacceptable. I am fully aware that I am experiencing hormone-induced rage blackouts, but that is just ridiculous, infantile bullshit. If you are calling an institution with the specific purpose of obtaining a series of 15 non-sequential numbers that serve the purpose of identification, unless you have some kind of verbal photographic memory, PICK UP A FUCKING PEN!

Take Note

I saw this on MSN and thought it was amusing.

1. Remember in old movies when women used to swoon and "take to the bed" for days at a time? That never happens. We're stronger than that. That being said, if we ever decide to "take to the bed" for days at a time, there's not a thing you can do about it.

2. Sometimes we think we really understand men. Then we regain consciousness.

3. Superskinny women really irritate us. We hate when they say, "Sometimes I just forget to eat." Now, I've forgotten my anniversary and where I parked my car. But I've never forgotten to eat.

4. We do like to have sex, just not at midnight when we have to get up at the crack of dawn to feed two kids, three dogs, and a pair of fat goldfish.

5. We'll gladly agree to stop complaining about our "time of the month" if men will kindly take over the little chores of childbearing, morning sickness, and postpartum emotional swings. Deal?

6. Women really do want to be on time. It's just that everything starts so darned early.

7. We know high heels are sexy, but we'll take our comfy black Uggs any day of the week.

8. Homespun wisdom from someone who knows: Just because we're southern belles doesn't mean we have bats in our belfries.

9. We really do like to cook. It's just that we cooked so much for our boyfriends before we got married that we're sick of being in the kitchen. Sorry you missed it.

10. Men are free to think they're the boss, as long as they know we're the chairman of the board.

You know you're an addict when...

On Sunday, I had my first shopping experience at my new local grocery store. I made the grave mistake of doing this ON a Sunday, as everyone knows this is optimal Kamikaze-Soccer-Mom shopping time. Needless to say, I was rather overwhelmed and under-caffeinated, so I did a less than stellar job. I've been back to the grocery store every single day since, picking up things I'd forgotten or given up on. I've also been feeling a bit off this week, and until last night unable to figure out why. I've had horrendous headaches and been feeling exhausted, as well as near tears. I've downed nearly a whole bottle of Advil, and even a few Excedrin to dull the pain. Last night, I was getting ready to set up my coffee maker for the morning. I pulled my new bag of Green Mountain French Vanilla out of the fridge... and that's when I saw it. The answer to all of my problems for the last 4 days. It was a sticker. A simple, small, burnt-orange sticker... with one very important word on it. That word, my friends, was... (brace yourself...) "DECAFFEINATED".

I'VE BEEN DRINKING DECAF FOR AN ENTIRE WEEK! No wonder my life has been so fucking miserable! I quickly rectified the situation this morning, stopping at good ol' Dunkin Donuts for a big, hot, delicious, CAFFEINATED beverage... and grabbed a bag of grounds while I was at it. Which I inspected for the evil sticker. Twice.

Mommy, wow!

After carrying about 30 boxes, sweating off 4lbs, bruising every inch of my body, pulling all of the muscles in my back and arms and stubbing all of my toes, I can finally say that I am almost completely moved into my new apartment. Today I fell asleep on my new couch while waiting for the cable guy. I take this to be a good sign. The best part? I did it all on my own. Who needs a man when you've got... biceps?

Should it be of any concern that I had martini glasses moved in almost a week before the furniture?

Palm Beach PD Saves the Planet!

This is JUST what the world needs: Limbaugh Loose With Viagra

Honestly, I'm not sure this is anyone I can think of that would be more appalling to be running around Florida with a permanent stiffy. Except for maybe Pat Robertson.

This Is Why I Love the Dixie Chicks

Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I’m not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I’m still waiting

I’m through with doubt
There’s nothing left for me to figure out
I’ve paid a price
And I’ll keep paying

I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should

I know you said
Can’t you just get over it
It turned my whole world around
And I kind of like it

I made my bed and I sleep like a baby
With no regrets and I don’t mind sayin’
It’s a sad sad story when a mother will teach her
Daughter that she ought to hate a perfect stranger
And how in the world can the words that I said
Send somebody so over the edge
That they’d write me a letter
Sayin’ that I better shut up and sing
Or my life will be over

I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should

I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s to late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should

Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I’m not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I’m still waiting

~Not Ready to Make Nice

Cheery Friday

I am in a certifiably foul mood today about life, the world, politics, the lack of universal health care, the environment, flag burning amendments, the weather, the fit of my pants, my shitty plans for the weekend, my new cheap sunglesses, and the bruise I have on my left thigh. Just to bring everyone around me down to my level, check out this fabulous blog a friend sent me the other day.

QAD 6/23/06

Life may have no meaning. Or even worse, it may have a
meaning of which I disapprove.
-- Ashleigh Brilliant

Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make
violent revolution inevitable.
--John F. Kennedy

In joining battle, seek the quick victory. If battle is
protracted, your weapons will be blunted and your troops
demoralized. If you lay siege to a walled city, you
exhaust your strength. If your armies are kept in the
field for a long time, your national reserves will not
suffice. Where you have blunted your weapons, demoral-
ized your troops, exhausted your strength and depleted
all available resources, the neighboring rulers will
take advantage of your adversity to strike. And even
with the wisest of counsel, you will not be able to turn
the ensuing consequences to the good. There never has
been a state that has benefited from an extended war.
--Sun Tzu

Sympathy

Casey's text message from the other day:

"Maybe they should change your job title to 'Everyone's Bitch'."

B-A-N-A-N-A-S

Casey: there was this group last night that came in to the Muddy Cup and rapped
it was 5 young white guys - they called themselves "the crunk masters of the universe"
they all thought they were Eminem - but their lyrics were basically spelling out "crunk masters of the universe"- over and over again
Casey: in the style of "go bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s
Casey: the crunk masters of the universe!
Casey: c-r-u-n-k-m-a-s-t-e-r-s-o-f-t-h-e-u-n-i-v-e-r-s-e
Casey: over and over again - five of them in unison
Me: well, y'know
Me: that takes talent!
Casey: my friend goes, you know, i bet they started as a rap group with three guys, and then one day they're all sitting around and they say "you know what we need? two more rappers!"

[If you find this hard to believe, they have a website - check out Crunk Masters of the Univerise, and their exciting feature song, "Where the Titties At" - sure to be a big hit. Feel free to leave them a comment and let them know how offensive they are.]

Becky's Batty

There is a very good chance that I'll be bringing a baseball bat to work tomorrow. Maybe the visual image and physical reminder of impending violence will make my bat-brained students pay attention to the very explicit, detailed, and uncompromising instructions I give them on a regular basis. For example, if I say, "Return this form with the signatures on it no later than 6pm today. If you do not return this form by that time, it will not be accepted," do not leave it here without your name on it, after 7pm, missing your advisor's signature and expect that form to be processed.. What part of my VERY SIMPLE instructions did you not understand?

I'm telling you, tomorrow I'm bringing a weapon.

The Old Maid

Getting old(er) sucks. I was reminded of this at the gym today. I haven't been to the gym in a while (I've been running outside), so maybe that was part of my jarring return to reality.

While I was working out, there was this teenage girl, maybe about 14 years old, on the treadmill. She was a smaller girl, running along for about 20 minutes. She had skinny little arms and legs, and was wearing cheap sneakers that looked like Keds you'd buy at WalMart. No water bottle, no towel, nothing fancy. All I could think was, "how can she run in shoes like that?" and, "God, I can't even remember when my arms were that skinny." She got off the treadmill and walked away, not sweating too hard, not breathing particularly rough. When I run these days, I sweat like a pig, I breathe hard, my face turns purple, and my ass jiggles. I can feel it jiggle, and I don't even have a big ass! I have NO ass, yet it jiggles with every step! I can't run in fucking Keds - my ankles and knees can't handle it. I have to buy fancy-ass expensive Adidas so I don't strain something. I have to make sure I stretch and drink water, otherwise I can't walk for three days, and I have to ice my knee every time I run. I was elated today when I was able to go down the stairs after my 2 miles without any pain in my knee. I'm only 10 years older than that teenager, but I'm OLD. And that sucks. At the rate I'm going, I'll need a walker by age 30.

Maybe one of the toughest things to accept as we age is the fact that our bodies just aren't as reliable as they once were. We grow up thinking we're invicible... that we can get thrown from a horse and bounce off the ground, or play three games of tackle football without the slightest repercussions. Our bodies are rocks or Hondas - they never break down or change much. But as we get older, they become more like driftwood or Fords - at a certain point they get sanded down to a new shape and start to break down repeatedly with bizarrely expensive necessary repairs. I used to get dragged by frisky yearlings and thrown against fences. With rope burns on my hands and hoofprints on my helmet, I'd get back up and right back on, without a second thought. One day, however, we wake up frighteningly aware of our own mortality and fragility. It's sad and it's sobering to be reminded that it's all downhill from here, so we might as well enjoy it, right? For my part, I have decided to try to run outside where there are fewer teenagers and attempt to avoid their blase youth and vigor for as long as possible...