I Just Live Here

So, this morning I stopped to pick-up a newspaper from the little grocery around the corner from my house. As I was paying, a guy in his late forties came in and whistled a tune that has replayed in my head all day. I have been racking my brain all afternoon to remember where I know this tune, and finally it hit me.

I suppose you're never too old to get your Smurf on.

His Ego may be Larger than Alaska...

but his stingers are hotter than it's governor. Karma, meet Sarah Palin.



I've avoided making any commentary on this election for a few reasons. First, that's not really the purpose of this blog. And no, I can't tell you the actual purpose of this blog. Second, I'm nervous to take a stance that creates a historical stamp. It's like people driving around with those Gore/Lieberman stickers on the bumper of their Chevy's.'

But Sarah Palin disgusts me. And not because she is a cliche, or a woman who clearly substitutes 'cute' for substance. No, the reason Ms. Palin tickles my gag reflex is because she makes us look bad. Or, at least the us that have a vagina. I am disappointed with a woman who has accepted the position for one of the most powerful positions in the country, and possibly the world. I'm disappointed when I watch her falter and stumble and ineffectively try to manipulate her way out of any situation that requires her to be everything that she is not. Bold, strong, intelligent, controlled, deliberate, and confidant. Oh yeah, and that whole leadership thing. I'm sad because I've watched her turn into in a wannabe bully. No original thought, no original purpose, absolutely no creativity. Just riding the coattails of the smart kids and makings quips that end in an -in.

I think Anne Lamott has a better idea. I think that as women, we should support those who possess the fire. There are enough women out there who incite support from being dramatic, mean, "sassy," and otherwise useless. We all could stand to channel a little Molly Ivins.

I still believe in Hope - mostly because there's no such place as Fingers Crossed, Arkansas.
- Molly Ivins

I Sure Hope That's It

So I was talking with a coworker last week and catching up on the happenings of him and his family. He told me that his wife and youngest daughter had started a MediFast diet earlier in the week, and jokingly mentioned that his household had been rather tense ever since then. I remembered that his daughter was young, and when I asked my friend how old she was, he told me she was 11.

It was rather difficult to get through the rest of the conversation, because this wave of emotion came over me that I hadn't really expected. Dieting with my mom was a staple of our relationship from the time I was 12 until the time I left for college. I couldn't help but wonder about my friend's daughter.

I truly hope that this is the last diet she ever decides to take on. I hope that she gets to a healthy weight and learns some healthy habits and never gives a passing thought to the number on the tag of her jeans. But from what I know, and from what I have learned from other friends and various influences, this is probably just the beginning for her. This is not the first and last diet she will start; it is only the first of many. She will probably lose some weight and it will be positively reinforced by her family, friends, and cute boys in the lunch line. I hope that she decides how to eat by listening to her body, and not to her mom or infomercials or by watching her friends subsist on diet coke and carrot sticks.

My true hope is that this doesn't lead to destructive behavior. And that she doesn't start marking important events in her life by how much or little she weighed. That when she starts dating, she doesn't question why someone would want to touch her or be with her. That she doesn't spend her days counting calories and carbohydrates and sugar content of everything she eats.

Maybe I'm just forcing my own situation on to someone else. The thought of an 11 year-old starting a diet makes me cringe, makes me relive those days of coffee-only diets. I wish I could change it for so many other 11 year-old girls who are about to repeat the same exact cycles.

I knew that to keep in touch
Would do me deep in dutch
Cuz it isn't the rush of remembering
It's just mush
And the signature thing
Is only growing harrowing
I should have no trouble now
To keep from following

Why I Love My Coworkers

My sentiments exactly. Except maybe replace 'socks' with 'bra.'

Check My Flow

So, awhile back I wrote about the Pink and Carey Hart split. A few weeks ago, I caught Pink's video for her new song So What. Or, as my friend Kate refers to it, the naner-naner song.

After seeing the video, I was even more bummed about the dissolution of the Pink/Hart relationship. Clearly, they get along and still care for one another. Why cut down the tree with carved initials and declarations of love? Can't Carey ride bitch on the back of her riding lawn mower?

I suppose I'm longing for a little dose of fairytale in a reality-laden world. What's so overrated about a great story that stays, well, great? Why can't I have my cake and eat it too, preferably with a scoop of ice cream?

I digress. I think I just wanted an excuse to hear this song again. Catchy, ain't it?

Synchronized Slimming

Sometimes I wish that as women, we decided to stop relating and foraging relationships based on diet and negative body image issues. I wish we could compliment each other's brain, heart, and character and not each other's size, dress, and skin.

I have shared many a meal with female coworkers since I started working in a professional setting eight years ago. And I can genuinely say that most of these meals play out in the same fashion. Everyone ponders over the menu for a few minutes, and then announces their meal plans. Except usually the statement is prefaced by declarations that go a lot like:

"I'm being good today!"
"I'm having a bad day, so I'm having the..."
"I haven't eat since yesterday, so I'm going all out!"
"Today is a cheat day."

How about we just eat? If it's a hamburger, a salad, a muffin, a potato chip, an oyster, a taco, or a jelly bean. How about we just do it? And we don't excuse it or justify it or mull it over once everyone else has made their decisions.

And I'm having seconds of that.

And before the might
of all that’s seen
I’ll raise my head
and wake to dream
with a clean pair of eyes

Inaudibly Irrelevant

I'm a big fan of words. I love consonants, syllables, contractions, similes, and everything in between. That said, hearing someone use incorrect tense, ending sentences with prepositions, or making up words makes me feel like I'm trapped in a phone booth with Fran Drescher and Bill O'Reilly.

Stop using 'mute' in place of 'moot.' Those words have two vastly different meanings. I promise. Look it up.

I opened my eyes
While you were kissing me once, more than once
And you looked as sincere as a dog
Just as sincere as a dog does
When it's the food on your lips with which it's in love