Quodlibets

Two incidents that prove I'm an idiot (conclusively)

Yesterday, S decided to have a bowl of cereal for his snack after work, as he often does.  Being that we were at my Poodge's house, however, the cereal offerings were slightly different, and after some deliberation, S chose Cocoa Krispies.  I, even though I proclaim my dislike for sugar cereals, have a weak spot for cocoa flavored cereals, including Krispies and Puffs.  So when S left his bowl of cereal on the counter to get a tissue, I took a bite of the cereal.  It was delicious, so I took another bite.  In the meantime, S came back in the kitchen and asked me if I just wanted to eat the whole bowl.  I pretended to run off with it, and went to give it back, but not before stuffing another spoonful of cereal into my already full mouth.  I'm not sure if he laughed first, or if I did, but first I snorted, and blew cereal out of the bowl all over the counter.  Then, lauging hard, milk started leaking out of my mouth.  I went to the sink, let the milk go--and at this point, S was hysterical, I was hysterical--and the krispies started coming out.  I narrowly avoided choking, there were krispies in a smushy mess in the sink, and milk on the floor.  As well as the mess on the counter from where I snorted the cereal out of the bowl.  S decided to get himself a new bowl, declining the old one, thinking there might be snot in it.  I cleaned myself up and ate the bowl of cereal.  What choice did I have?

And today, I came home intending to get things done.  I started by picking up, unpacking a little bit, and just making sure things were in order.  I wanted to do a load of laundry, but I didn't know what I had, so I decided on towels.  I picked up some from the floor of the bathroom, took the ones on the towel rack off of the towel rack, and got a couple out of the bedroom, and put them in.  Then, I decided it'd be best if I got all of our dirty clothes in one place, so that when S showed up with the rest of the week's dirty clothes I'd be ready to go.  I started in the bathroom, leaning over to pick up a pile of underwear and t-shirts from the bathroom floor.  As I stood up, I WHACKED the top of my head HARD on the corner of the now-bare towel rack.  It hit so hard I thought I might be bleeding (it was a somewhat sharp corner).  Thank god, no.  But it still hurts like a bitch, as well as lending a dull ache to the afternoon.  I just felt that part of my head now, and there is a gigantic (GIGANTIC) bump on my head.  Could I be clumsier?  No, don't answer that.

A response to a response

Did you all see the comment some guy (too chickenshit [sorry, dude, but true] to leave his name or email address) left on my post about my Cosmo annoyance?  If not, please go read it.  And then you can move on to this, my response to this guy.

Dear Anon Male Commenter,

First of all, I think you should go read my sister's blog so that I don't have to smack you down on the issue of appearance and self-esteem/confidence.  I'm here to tell you that she's 100% right, and that appearance has fuck all to do with how much of either of those things a woman has.  If a "lady" looks like "crap", you can't assume anything about her, right?  Because according to you, "we all know what happens when one asumes [sic] something."  And I think you're assuming just as much as me.  It makes me sad that you're calling me out on something that you're doing.

Speaking of men, do you really think that I can't have "true insite [sic]" into men's minds?  Because you seem to think you have insight into women's minds--we have low self-esteem when we look like crap, remember--even though you're definitely not a woman.  I'm not saying that I could ever think like a man, but I think these stupid gender boundaries between minds is fucked up.  I know my boyfriend's mind far more than my mother's, and I'd bet you know your wife's mind better than some men.  It's all about how well you know someone, not what gender you are. 

And if I was a man, I think I'd be insulted by your talk of "types".  Do you really think that men are just looking for a type?  That's pretty damn incriminating.  In fact, in your first line, you say that it's silly to assume that men look at appearance first, but then you turn around and say that, yes, men do look at appearance first.  And looking at types only?  It says that men are nothing more than the robots you seem to think I think men are.  And believe you me, I don't think that men are robots.  I don't think men have types at all; that's not at all what I was saying.  I was saying that men don't look for confidence first, because they can't.  I think that men look at eyes, boobs, smile, what have you.  And I'm not saying women are different, either. 

In fact, all I was really saying was that I find it annoying when men say in magazines that one of the things that first draws them to women is confidence.  You just took it way too far; and you're unable to express your ideas civilly.  A few people told me that I should delete your comment, because it was so angry, but I think it'll stay, at least for now.  I know you think that you were schooling me on how civilized men actually are, but you're hurting your team with your argument, if you're arguing that you have to have a type in place before you can look at the interests of the girl. 

And with your slightly demeaning tone (calling women "ladies" and "bigger ladies" or your girlfriend/wife "your lady", talking down to me like I'm a little girl who can't possibly understand big, strong men), you come off as a condescending know-it-all.  How can you be so condescending to someone you don't know; how can you take something meant so lightly so heavily?  And I bristle at the suggestion that my opinion isn't informed.  It's entirely possible for a woman to have informed opinions on what men think.  How do we know your opinion is better informed?  Because you're a man?  I don't buy that, I just don't.

Manogirl

PS--If men really valued intelligence and confidence, then women wouldn't have been playing dumb for centuries.  And please don't tell me that women don't have to play dumb; I know they don't, but lots of them sure think they do to "get" men.  I wonder why they think that? 

Seven Months Later

Approximately, since I started WW.  I haven't talked too much about it on the blog, because it's important, but it's just not THAT important.  And it's intensely private for me, for whatever reasons. 

That said, I'm hoping that by airing this out there, I'll be able to find some sort of motivation or drive to commit for the second time. 

Seven months ago, I started this thing, and I was so good at first.  I was careful and deliberate, and I planned everything out.  Yes, I ate out, and I ate snacks, but always within the plan.  Now, I find myself constantly ignoring my inner voice.  I know that I should manage my snacks, but I don't.  I know that I don't need the second whatever it is, but I eat it.  And the frustrating effect of all this eating is that my stomach has gotten bigger, so that I'm hungry nearly constantly.  I'm pissed off about it, and I know that I need to rededicate myself to the effort.  I don't mind indulging a little when I'm doing well, but all the the indulging I'm doing is seriously bad for me.  I'm still exercising, which is really good.  But the lack of control (and make no mistake, it's definitely not about WHAT I'm eating right now, but the quantity.  If I controlled my quantities and ate the same things, I think I'd be okay.)  Of course, portion control has never been my strong suit; moderation, food and my family don't so much go together.  But I had gotten to the point, in the seven months, where I was EXCELLENT at gauging my eating at home.  In restaurants, I maybe didn't do so hot, but that was okay, because I was doing great at home.

Now, I'm not doing great at home, and doing even worse in restaurants.  I need a refocusing tool.  I think that going home, and finishing the housesitting gig will be good; I'll have my own food and my own kitchen to help me make better decisions.  But I'm seriously pissed off as I sit here.  How can I do this to myself?  It's like I'm resigned to failure.  But.  No.  I don't need to fail at this.  There's nothing stopping me from succeeding but a bowl of Cocoa Krispies and a slice of pizza--both of which I didn't need.

I'm going to have to find my way back to a place where I can maintain/continue.  I hope it doesn't take too long.

A Different Kind of Meme

I found this meme over at Rox Populi.  I went to Music Outfitters, entered the year of my high school graduation in the search box, and came up with this list of the top 100 songs of 1997.  I crossed out anything that I didn't like/don't like and bolded anything that I actually like.  There's not much.  And unlike Rox Populi, I didn't underline anything, because none of these songs are my favorite by that artist.  I think we can glean two things from this list:  popular music in 1997 was remarkably bad, and I clearly wasn't listening to what was popular.  I listened to classic rock, Dave Matthews, REM and the Indigo Girls, along with a smattering of alternative, none of which really appears on this list.

1. Candle In The Wind 1997, Elton John
2. Foolish Games / You Were Meant For Me, Jewel
3. I'll Be Missing You, Puff Daddy and Faith Evans
4. Un-Break My Heart, Toni Braxton
5. Can't Nobody Hold Me Down, Puff Daddy
6. I Believe I Can Fly, R. Kelly
7. Don't Let Go (Love), En Vogue
8. Return Of The Mack, Mark Morrison
9. How Do I Live, LeAnn Rimes
10. Wannabe, Spice Girls
11. Quit Playing Games (With My Heart), Backstreet Boys
12. MMMBop, Hanson
13. For You I Will, Monica
14. You Make Me Wanna..., Usher
15. Bitch, Meredith Brooks
16. Nobody Keith Sweat
17. Semi-Charmed Life, Third Eye Blind
18. Barely Breathing, Duncan Sheik
19. Hard To Say I'm Sorry, Az Yet Featuring Peter Cetera
20. Mo Money Mo Problems, Notorious B.I.G.
21. The Freshmen, Verve Pipe
22. I Want You, Savage Garden
23. No Diggity, BLACKstreet Featuring Dr. Dre
24. I Belong To You (Every Time I See Your Face), Rome
25. Hypnotize, Notorious B.I.G.
26. Every Time I Close My Eyes, Babyface
27. In My Bed, Dru Hill
28. Say You'll Be There, Spice Girls
29. Do You Know (What It Takes), Robyn
30. 4 Seasons Of Loneliness, Boyz II Men
31. G.H.E.T.T.O.U.T., Changing Faces
32. Honey, Mariah Carey
33. I Believe In You And Me, Whitney Houston
34. Da' Dip, Freaknasty
35. 2 Become 1, Spice Girls
36. All For You, Sister Hazel
37. Cupid, 112
38. Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?, Paula Cole
39. Sunny Came Home, Shawn Colvin
40. It's Your Love, Tim McGraw and Faith Hill
41. Ooh Aah... Just A Little Bit, Gina G
42. Mouth, Merril Bainbridge
43. All Cried Out, Allure Featuring 112
44. I'm Still In Love With You, New Edition
45. Invisible Man, 98 Degrees
46. Not Tonight, Lil' Kim
47. Look Into My Eyes, Bone Thugs-N-Harmony
48. Get It Together, 702
49. All By Myself, Celine Dion
50. It's All Coming Back To Me Now, Celine Dion
51. My Love Is The Shhh!, Somethin' For The People
52. Where Do You Go, No Mercy
53. I Finally Found Someon, Barbra Streisand and Bryan Adams
54. I'll Be, Foxy Brown Featuring Jay-Z
55. If It Makes You Happy , Sheryl Crow
56. Never Make A Promise, Dru Hill
57. When You Love A Woman, Journey
58. Up Jumps Da Boogie, Magoo And Timbaland
59. I Don't Want To / I Love Me Some Him, Toni Braxton
60. Everyday Is A Winding Road, Sheryl Crow
61. Cold Rock A Party, Mc Lyte
62. Pony, Ginuwine
63. Building A Mystery, Sarah McLachlan
64. I Love You Always Forever, Donna Lewis
65. Your Woman, White Town
66. C U When U Get There, Coolio
67. Change The World, Eric Clapton
68. My Baby Daddy, B-Rock and The Bizz
69. Tubthumping, Chumbawamba
70. Gotham City, R. Kelly
71. Last Night, Az Yet
72. ESPN Presents The Jock Jam, Various Artists
73. Big Daddy, Heavy D
74. What About Us, Total
75. Smile, Scarface
76. What's On Tonight, Montell Jordan
77. Secret Garden, Bruce Springsteen
78. The One I Gave My Heart, w Aaliyah
79. Fly Like An Eagle, Seal
80. No Time, Lil' Kim
81. Naked Eye, Luscious Jackson
82. Macarena (Bayside Boys Mix), Los Del Rio
83. On and On, Erykah Badu
84. Don't Wanna Be A Player, Joe
85. I Shot The Sheriff, Warren G
86. You Should Be Mine (Don't Waste Your Time), Brian McKnight Featuring Mase
87. Don't Cry For Me Argentina, Madonna
88. Someone, SWV
89. Go The Distance, Michael Bolton
90. One More Time, Real McCoy
91. Butta Love, Next
92. Coco Jamboo, Mr. President
93. Twisted, Keith Sweat
94. Barbie Girl, Aqua
95. When You're Gone / Free To Decide, Cranberries
96. Let Me Clear My Throat, DJ Kool
97. I Like It, Blackout Allstars
98. You're Makin' Me High / Let It Flow, Toni Braxton
99. You Must Love Me, Madonna
100. Let It Go, Ray J

Something else I find annoying

Today, I felt strangely compelled to read fashion magazines.  So while at the grocery store trying to find something to tame my allergies, I picked up Cosmo and InStyle.  (I only really bought the second one because of the promised shoe special section, which is basically shoe porn, the only kind of porn I repeatedly buy.)  InStyle was what it always is, lots of shiny, expensive products that I have no hope of affording at this moment.  There were some great shoes, no doubt, but every single pair that I liked, I could never afford. 

And then, Cosmo.  Cosmo is craptastic, let's just put this out there.  I KNOW it's craptastic; I don't really like buying it, but I do occassionally, just 'cause, you know, I need to know five sure-fire ways to bring my man to orgasm. 

Anyway, my pet peeve about Cosmo today is pretty common to all fashion mags; I haaaaaaate when men (famous or not) interviewed by a magazine say that the most important, attractive part of a woman is her independent nature/confidence.  I just don't think that the first thing that any man looks at is a woman's.....confidence.  Boobs, maybe.  Smile, okay.  Eyes, yes.  But you can't really tell how confident a woman is by those things.  Big fake boobs (or smile) don't equate to confidence.  Super-skinny (sickly) ladies aren't full of confidence, or they wouldn't feel the need to starve themselves to the point of ugliness. 

I'm pretty sure that any man on the arm of one of those types of girls isn't attracted to her confidence.  (And not all men are like this; one high profile man who I can think of that seems refreshingly normal in his taste in women is Hugh Jackman.  Then again, he's ridiculously good at playing gay.  This is a man who is COMFORTABLE with himself.  His wife isn't perfect; she's certainly not ugly, but she's no Nicole Kidman or Naomi Watts either.)  I just think that the above statement is a way for men to sound better to members of the opposite sex.  Because let's face it, if a man said that the most important quality a woman could have was the ability to sex herself up, we'd go running in the other direction, no?  And it's pretty damn shallow to insist that appearance is the most important thing; I think it's okay to like the way your lover looks, but making that the basis of the attraction is very scary.  Pretty much, confidence/independence is a winner answer, any way you look at it, if you're a man.

I just hate it. 

Allergies, Part Deux

Well, I feel possibly worse than I ever have.  The allergies are KICKING my ass around this massive house.  (S and I are housesitting for my Poodge and his GF, taking care of their dogs, and rattling around a very, very large house with perks like a hot tub and a movie theatre in the basement.  No, I am not kidding.  It's pretty sick.)  I feel itchy and scratchy and fever-y.  And to top it all off, I decided to start a new workout thing where I try running VERY short intervals among the walking.  Eventually, I'd maybe like to actually run faster, and you know, for a nice thirty-minute stretch.  But man oh man, am I feeling it now.  My heels hurt (the beginning of a hereditary heel disorder?  Methinks yes.) and my hips hurt.  My thighs feel like someone pounded them with a meat-hammer.  I know I'm bitching, but fuck.  I didn't know it would hurt like this. 

Also, I've been so tense lately that the headaches continue without abating, I've chewed my lips to a pulp, and at night I clench my teeth so hard that they're hurting when I wake up.  I'm a mess, in short.  Beware, because it's leading to moods that would scare the shit out of anybody.  I think I'm like a Medusa.  Snakes rise out of my head and hiss and snap at people.  Ask S.  I'm sure he'd be happy to tell you how awful I am.

What I thought I didn't want to do, I did

Okay, okay, wait for it....

I read Prep.  I wasn't going to; I'd flirted with checking it out of the library a couple of times before the Sittenfeld/Wiener flap, but after that, I decided no, it wasn't worth it.  But then, when I went Thursday (after the non-interview debacle), it was just sitting on the new fiction rack, waiting for me.  Isn't it better for me to hate the book having read it?  The answer is yes.

And I did hate it.  Okay, maybe that's unfair.  I certainly didn't love it.  In fact, I don't see what the fuss is about; I honestly can't imagine why it's marketed as simple fiction.  It's not necessarily chick lit, though it has a LOT in common with proclaimed chick lit.  I think that Prep is absolutely, 100% Young Adult.  It's about a high schooler, and it's about a shallow high schooler at that.  So what if she goes to prep school?  That doesn't make it any more adult.  The defining moment of the book, to me, happened  in the last 50 pages of an over 350-page book.  The first 250 pages or so were pointless; the characters weren't especially well-written or deep.  The relationships (or lack thereof) were so cliche.  The important moments were mere footnotes in the book--when the main character betrays her first sorta friend, every shared moment between the two best girlfriends in the book, the moment when hte girl betrays the entire school--and I absolutely wondered why.

In fact, the more I think about it, the more I think that the book was very poorly crafted.  The most important part of the book--the part the author really dwells on--is the girls' obsession with a popular boy named Cross, who ends up using her basically for sex.  It felt lame and contrived, especially because of the end of the book: the main character has a revelation at the end of the four years at prep school that "Oh my gosh!  Prep school isn't really that important!  It's not the real world!"  Perhaps it's apropos to say that all the important themes of the book felt juvenile to me; if this book had been marketed to teens, I would understand it better.  (Not that I would have liked it better, you understand.  It wasn't particularly well-done; I've read other YA books that better deal with topics like popularity and being used.) 

I really did go into the book thinking it might be good; even though I bear a (slight) grudge against the author, I thought that anything that got so much buzz might warrant the buzz.  I fought my dislike through the entire book; had it not been so much of an experiment for me to read it, I most likely would not have finished it.  Very disappointing.

But I think that I would love to hear other opinions.  Have you read the book and loved it?  Why?  I'm just curious.

Fecking Allergies

I hate when ragweed attacks.  Even though I'm taking Claritin, I still want to scratch the inside of my nostrils until they bleed, and I'd like to rip my eyeballs right out of my head.  It's so gorgeous it makes me sick.  Literally.  Also, the snot is a nice by-product, don't you think?

Cyrus Kar

Last night, a man named Cyrus Kar was on Nightline.  Kar was in an American prison in Iraq because a cab he was in had bomb timers in the trunk; the cabbie subsequently confessed, but Kar and his cameraman (he was in Iraq legally, with all the proper paperwork, doing a documentary) were in jail for 55 days.  Both American citizens, they were held without charge and without the chance to talk to the embassy, a lawyer, or their representatives in Congress and the Senate.  After 49 days, Kar was officially cleared of the crime, and six days later, he was released.  During the time he was in prison, his family didn't know where he was until the Red Cross visited, because the government wouldn't let him call his family.  His sister works for the Red Cross and the Red Cross employee that visited Kar knew her, which is how the word got out.

Incredibly, Kar doesn't bear too many grudges against the government.  He understands that they did what they had to do.  Or so he says.  But I think he made a great point about what's happening in Iraq.  He said that if we're trying to make it a Democracy, then we have to lead by example.  How can we realistically expect Iraq to transition to a democracy when we're ignoring the very rules of democracy ourselves? 

Start from the bottom up with their criminals.  I know they're terrorists, but our homegrown terrorists never forfeited their rights to a fair trial.  To a lawyer.  And I know they're not American, but we're trying to export American ideas to a country that had a Saddam Hussein justice system.  Like Kar says, it'd be great if we could lead by example, instead of saying "Do as I say, not as I do."  Then again, politicians are really, really good at that.

Friday Random Ten

For some reason, Typepad isn't letting me post in wysiwyg.  I only get wysiwyg posting when I save a draft and edit it.  What a pain in the ass.

1. Enemy Fire -- Ryan Adams
2. The Girl from Back Then -- Kings of Convenience
3. Wild Horses -- The Sundays
4. Feeling So Real -- Moby
5. Rain -- The Beatles
6. La Cienega Just Smiled -- Ryan Adams
7. Wide Open Spaces -- Dixie Chicks
8. Why Should You Come When I Call -- The Counting Crows
9. Creep -- Radiohead
10. Every Day Is A Winding Road -- Sheryl Crow

Two Ryan Adams' songs is so random, because again, out of 1800 songs, possibly 14 to 15 are Ryan Adams' songs.  Still, that's a great album, Gold, and if you haven't heard it, I would recommend a listen.

In other news, I got slightly drunk last night (you'll probably get a slightly different story from S) drinking that wine, and now I'm slightly hungover.  Just a wine headache.