I was watching a news clip of Tiger Woods speaking at a press conference,
re: an Irish magazine saying his wife was a big dirty porn whore. Tiger was quoted saying, "It is unacceptable. I do not accept it". Wow, he speaks so well! But can I just say that this could all be a simple misunderstanding? His wife is so generic white woman it would be really hard to distinguish her in soft porn focus. She's medium height, blond hair, slim build, and attractive. I mean, for all we know, it could be Cuba Gooding Jr.'s wife in that porn.
Anyway, Tiger's eloquent words lead me to reflect on some unacceptable things I've noticed, so I thought I would share them with you.
1. Old man in restaurant
My friends and I went to a restaurant for our monthly "Diva's Dinner". When the girls get together and the wine is flowing freely, it tends to get a little loud. But hey, we're having a good time, talking, laughing, and enjoying our dinner. Then this old man behind us gave us the subtle sign that the volume was a little too high for him. That sign was scrunching up his eyes, plugging his ears, and then moving his hands in a "keep it down" motion. The truth is, any way he chose to tell us to shut the hell up would have probably pissed me off. But the hand motions? Unacceptable. I do not accept it. Except in that case I did, because he was mad old and I didn't want him to have a stroke or anything.
2. The return of domesticity
I don't know if you've all heard, but domesticity is back. Apparently there are women my age who are married or living with their boyfriends who simply have to make dinner. Like, they seriously can't go home and do nothing. Or get him to make it. And when they do have a night out, or go on vacation for a few days, they make dinner and freeze it for their men. Their 30-year-old men. They do it all--cooking, cleaning, laundry, feeding the dog. There's a slight possibility that garbage still falls under the man's jurisdiction, but don't quote me. Okay, I know I sound all judgy-wudgy. But the truth is, I'm just afraid my boyfriend is going to find out and realize that I've been scamming him with that whole, "independent women don't do things like that". Because these women are all independent and smart. So despite what Rina thinks, I've decided I'm much too lazy to get on the domesticity bandwagon. Now if my boyfriend would like to get on it, I would definitely accept that.
3. The Western clones
If you're a white girl and you go to Western, you have a new uniform for a night on the town: a tank top, a jean mini-skirt over black leggings, and stillettos or flip-flops. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with this outfit per se, but when you're looking at a line of about 200 girls outside of a club and 80% of them are wearing this outfit, it's a bit strange. And it's so Western. When I was 18, the Western uniform was B.U.M. hats, Western sweatshirts, hospital pants, and Teva sandals. I'm not saying absolutely everyone wears the same clothes, but I challenge you to honestly say there isn't some kinda crazy cloning going on there. You know how Western is known for its Science department? Uh huh. Just think about it for a minute.
That's my word,
sbg
My Life in 10 minutes or less
The sad thing is that the update about my life may not even need a full 10 minutes. But I digress...
Minutes 1-5
I made a fatal error in judgement last Thursday when I decided to see Metric without the Bean. What was I thinking? Don't get me wrong, Metric was great. But it seemed the crowd had a little T-dot-itis, as a large number of them stood in front of the stage with their arms hanging limply at their sides. It was also very un-crowded, for reasons unknown to me. Emily Haines kept thanking us for being a small crowd, but wondered if she too was a little peeved by the lack of enthusiasm when she asked (midway through a song), "Do you guys know this song?" And she wasn't being coy.
Minutes 5-10
I've started to really question why I am so inexcusably lazy. I complain about being unfulfilled and uninspired, yet I do nothing to change my life. I like to say that it stems from the womb, where I apparently found a comfy spot and never moved--so much so that my mother thought I had died in her belly. Fast-forward to right now and that comfy spot is the couch. Similar to the nurture/nature debate, I think this falls in the genetic/generation debate. Is this laziness woven into my DNA, or is it my peers and People Magazine that force me to do nothing but ingest pop culture?
Minute 11 (I need it, hooray!)
I'm using my connection to other people who know people to gain friends at work. A coworker told me that she really liked Esthero's brother. I told her that I had a good friend who was best friends with Esthero, which meant she was only 2 degress of separation away. She was duly impressed by my Kevin Bacon-ness.
(Bean, I might need your help in the future).
Minute 12
No time to proofread. I'm out.
sbg
Minutes 1-5
I made a fatal error in judgement last Thursday when I decided to see Metric without the Bean. What was I thinking? Don't get me wrong, Metric was great. But it seemed the crowd had a little T-dot-itis, as a large number of them stood in front of the stage with their arms hanging limply at their sides. It was also very un-crowded, for reasons unknown to me. Emily Haines kept thanking us for being a small crowd, but wondered if she too was a little peeved by the lack of enthusiasm when she asked (midway through a song), "Do you guys know this song?" And she wasn't being coy.
Minutes 5-10
I've started to really question why I am so inexcusably lazy. I complain about being unfulfilled and uninspired, yet I do nothing to change my life. I like to say that it stems from the womb, where I apparently found a comfy spot and never moved--so much so that my mother thought I had died in her belly. Fast-forward to right now and that comfy spot is the couch. Similar to the nurture/nature debate, I think this falls in the genetic/generation debate. Is this laziness woven into my DNA, or is it my peers and People Magazine that force me to do nothing but ingest pop culture?
Minute 11 (I need it, hooray!)
I'm using my connection to other people who know people to gain friends at work. A coworker told me that she really liked Esthero's brother. I told her that I had a good friend who was best friends with Esthero, which meant she was only 2 degress of separation away. She was duly impressed by my Kevin Bacon-ness.
(Bean, I might need your help in the future).
Minute 12
No time to proofread. I'm out.
sbg
Coming Out
Titles are becoming a problem for me. In the spirit of what this entry is going to be about, let me share this little secret with you: I just spent 5 minutes trying to think of a title. And I do this all the time--even when I'm just sending an email. There, I said it.
A coworker showed me this blog called PostSecret... In a nutshell, people write secrets on postcards anonymously and send them to this person who posts them on a blog. There's actually a book of them too. It's a blogspot thing, if you want to look it up.
So in the spirit of that blog, I decided to write some of my secrets in this entry. It obviously isn't anonymous because to the best of my knowledge, everyone who reads this blog knows me. And given that, these are probably "secrets" I would tell you if it ever came up anyway. But at least I'm posting, dammit. Here I go:
1. Sometimes I cry when I watch "What Not To Wear". When the people are all emotional, and they talk about how the experience changed their lives and they feel better about themselves, and then they see their families and everyone is so happy, I'll actually have tears streaming down my face.
2. Since they started airing, I've taped Beverly Hills 90210 every day.
3. When the TV Guide that has the new fall lineup arrived, my eyes lit up and I clapped my hands with glee.
sidebar: I just realized that the first 3 "secrets" have all been about TV and will probably come as a surprise to NO ONE.
4. I wish I was mysterious.
5. I wear Spanx.
6. Every night when I go to bed I spend at least 15 minutes having pretend conversations with people.
7. I make up speeches in my head, like if I won an award, at my sister's wedding, and even at someone's funeral.
8. I made a CD for the car and put Kelly Clarkson's Since You Been Gone on it twice.
9. I've eaten an entire box of Kraft Dinner for dinner on more than one occasion.
10. When I first saw Tom Cruise jump on Oprah's couch, I thought it was sweet.
Well, that's it. Some of my not-so-deep dark secrets. I expect ridicule and mocking to follow in the form of comments.
Feeling exposed,
sbg
A coworker showed me this blog called PostSecret... In a nutshell, people write secrets on postcards anonymously and send them to this person who posts them on a blog. There's actually a book of them too. It's a blogspot thing, if you want to look it up.
So in the spirit of that blog, I decided to write some of my secrets in this entry. It obviously isn't anonymous because to the best of my knowledge, everyone who reads this blog knows me. And given that, these are probably "secrets" I would tell you if it ever came up anyway. But at least I'm posting, dammit. Here I go:
1. Sometimes I cry when I watch "What Not To Wear". When the people are all emotional, and they talk about how the experience changed their lives and they feel better about themselves, and then they see their families and everyone is so happy, I'll actually have tears streaming down my face.
2. Since they started airing, I've taped Beverly Hills 90210 every day.
3. When the TV Guide that has the new fall lineup arrived, my eyes lit up and I clapped my hands with glee.
sidebar: I just realized that the first 3 "secrets" have all been about TV and will probably come as a surprise to NO ONE.
4. I wish I was mysterious.
5. I wear Spanx.
6. Every night when I go to bed I spend at least 15 minutes having pretend conversations with people.
7. I make up speeches in my head, like if I won an award, at my sister's wedding, and even at someone's funeral.
8. I made a CD for the car and put Kelly Clarkson's Since You Been Gone on it twice.
9. I've eaten an entire box of Kraft Dinner for dinner on more than one occasion.
10. When I first saw Tom Cruise jump on Oprah's couch, I thought it was sweet.
Well, that's it. Some of my not-so-deep dark secrets. I expect ridicule and mocking to follow in the form of comments.
Feeling exposed,
sbg
The Art of Communication
I realize that my mother is often the subject in this blog, and in that regard, often the object of my ridicule. But for God's sake, could the woman give me any more material?
Since I have mastered the art of driving, I am using her car everyday. Mostly for work, but I like to have a little "me" time out on the road too. So I guess my parents have been discussing giving me that car, and to that end, were wondering if I could afford insurance. This is an almost verbatim transcript of our conversation:
Mum: Do you think you can afford the insurance for the car?
Me: How much is it?
Mum: A lot.
Me: How much is a lot?
Mum: I don't know... I just know it's a lot.
Me: Well, how much do you pay?
Mum: Since I had that accident, it went up a lot.
Me: Uh... could you ballpark it for me?
Mum: I don't know... $500?
Me: A month?!
Mum: Um, yeah... uh... I don't know. Ask your dad. I just know it's a lot.
Me: (Sigh)
I'm not even going to recount the conversation I had with my dad about it... just decrease the "a lot" comments by half and replace them with the similarly vague, "it depends".
The art of communication at it's finest, folks. I guess you can see how I ended up the articulate woman I am today.
In other news, the job is going well. While I'm not necessarily more confident in myself, I think my boss is more confident I can actually do the job. As I explained it to a friend earlier today, whenever I manage to say something interesting and creative during our brainstorming sessions, my first thought isn't "Yay Me!", it's more like "Okay, I'm not getting fired today. Whew." Which means that sadly, my quarter-life crisis lives on. Insatiable bastard.
It's crazy... so many things that I dreamed about before I moved have come true: I got a job in my field. I got my driver's license. I'm not broke (thanks to today's paycheque). Yet still, I have these feelings of restlessness and discontent. I guess I'm more high-maintenance than I thought.
But I'm not unhappy. And while that doesn't sound like much, compared to how I felt in January, that's a lot (for lack of a less-used term). On the even brighter side, I think I've knocked off more than half of my New Year's Resolutions list, which is unheard of for me. I'm doing so well, I'm actually considering using my gym membership.
Look out 2007!
sbg
Since I have mastered the art of driving, I am using her car everyday. Mostly for work, but I like to have a little "me" time out on the road too. So I guess my parents have been discussing giving me that car, and to that end, were wondering if I could afford insurance. This is an almost verbatim transcript of our conversation:
Mum: Do you think you can afford the insurance for the car?
Me: How much is it?
Mum: A lot.
Me: How much is a lot?
Mum: I don't know... I just know it's a lot.
Me: Well, how much do you pay?
Mum: Since I had that accident, it went up a lot.
Me: Uh... could you ballpark it for me?
Mum: I don't know... $500?
Me: A month?!
Mum: Um, yeah... uh... I don't know. Ask your dad. I just know it's a lot.
Me: (Sigh)
I'm not even going to recount the conversation I had with my dad about it... just decrease the "a lot" comments by half and replace them with the similarly vague, "it depends".
The art of communication at it's finest, folks. I guess you can see how I ended up the articulate woman I am today.
In other news, the job is going well. While I'm not necessarily more confident in myself, I think my boss is more confident I can actually do the job. As I explained it to a friend earlier today, whenever I manage to say something interesting and creative during our brainstorming sessions, my first thought isn't "Yay Me!", it's more like "Okay, I'm not getting fired today. Whew." Which means that sadly, my quarter-life crisis lives on. Insatiable bastard.
It's crazy... so many things that I dreamed about before I moved have come true: I got a job in my field. I got my driver's license. I'm not broke (thanks to today's paycheque). Yet still, I have these feelings of restlessness and discontent. I guess I'm more high-maintenance than I thought.
But I'm not unhappy. And while that doesn't sound like much, compared to how I felt in January, that's a lot (for lack of a less-used term). On the even brighter side, I think I've knocked off more than half of my New Year's Resolutions list, which is unheard of for me. I'm doing so well, I'm actually considering using my gym membership.
Look out 2007!
sbg
