Monday, June 30, 2008

John's Date

This is, rather obviously, the girl John was on a date with on Friday night. Apparently, despite the yawning, it went pretty well. He posted this picture last night (and, yes, he knows he's one of my contacts on Flickr and thus see his pictures). This is the conversation that ensued with one of my friends:

me: ALSO john who i dated in the fall? posted naked pictures of his new GF on his flickr account
that's so wrong
me: no nips or anything, but the meaning is obvious
D: that nail polish is just awful
is she part Tic Tac?
me: does it matter?
that was the girl yawning at him last friday night
he knows i see his flickr
D: I'm just so not impressed
all I can think about looking at these photos is that she kind of has the same hair as that Kazakh model who leapt to her death yesterday
me: yeah
D: whose corpse I just HAD to go look at on Fox
D: obviously
me: (me too, i'm ashamed)
D: you'd never let yourself be photographed looking so utterly submissive
and I still hate the nail polish
me: WOW way to put your finger on it
D: everything about the photo screams "passive"
me: omg, totally
D: which is prolly what he likes about her
and which you are (I should think) constitutionally incapable of being
me: yes
pretty much
D: I bet she talks in a little girl baby doll voice too

Catching Up To Do

Glamocracy: The Pander-lympics
Glamocracy: The Dance Begins
Glamocracy: McCain Strikes a Pose
Glamocracy: We Don't Need No Stinkin' Unity

Jezebel: Crappy Hour
Jezebel: Harriet Harman Wants English Women To Make More Money
Jezebel: The Devil Wears Prada, The Pope Wears Straight Jesus
Jezebel: Boy George's Visa Problems Make The State Department Spitting Mad
Jezebel: What It Feels Like For A Girl
Jezebel: Ma'am, That Uterus Will Cost You Extra
Jezebel: Parents Still Messing Up Their Kids, Kids Still Having Sex
Jezebel: "Jokes" About Domestic Violence Are Never Funny
Jezebel: Crappy Hour
Jezebel: When Spite Trumps Common Sense, A Resentful Clinton Supporter Is There
Jezebel: Woman To Woman: How To Get The Money You Want And Deserve
Jezebel: Does Feminism Carry A Gun?
Jezebel: Crappy Hour
Jezebel: LaVena Johnson: Murdered By Her Colleagues, Ignored By The Army

Sunday, June 29, 2008

The Challenge

My friend, Spencer Ackerman, issued me a bloggy challenge:
Put your iPod on shuffle and see how long it takes to come up with a song that would disqualify you from the presidency.
I figured I needed a distraction, a reason to put my headphones on despite hanging out with my family and something to do while getting through a weekend's worth of news before writing tomorrow. Bonus points for being able to officially not notice my mom rolling her eyes about me drinking a beer.

Sadly, I might be disqualified on the lameness factor. I have almost 1,800 songs on iTunes and they pretty well run the gamut of, well, everything from country to classical, blues to rock, swing to pop. Sadly, it seems that in the transfer from my old desktop to my laptop it lost all my ratings and # of plays, so my shuffle button is really doing this blind.

  1. Under The Boardwalk -- The Drifters
  2. The Story -- Brandi Carlisle
  3. Mrs. Robinson (Live from Central Park) -- Simon and Garfunkel
  4. Breaking Up Is Hard To Do -- Neil Sedaka
  5. Thong Song -- Sisqo
  6. Best I Ever Had -- Vertical Horizon
  7. Ordinary World -- Duran Duran
  8. Faultline -- Elliot Morris
  9. Summertime -- The Sundays
  10. Into Action -- Tim Armstrong
  11. Fat Lip -- Sum 41
  12. Private Conversation -- Lyle Lovett
  13. My Immortal -- Evanescence
  14. Late In The Evening (Live in Central Park) -- S&G
  15. In the Still of the Night -- The Five Satins
  16. Bang Bang -- David Sanborn
  17. Get Gone -- Fiona Apple
  18. Everyone Needs Someone Sometime -- Jewel
  19. Piano Song -- Meiko
  20. Whip It -- Devo
  21. Rock This Town -- The Brian Setzer Orchestra
  22. Caramel (Trackmasters Joint) -- City High
  23. The Goonies 'R' Good Enough -- Cyndi Lauper
  24. Don't Know Why -- Norah Jones
  25. Dr. Feelgood -- Aretha Franklin

If I'm not disqualified by Sisqo at #4 or the overall girly emo-ness of the thing, hardly anything will. So I'm gonna just stop before I embarrass myself anymore. I'm possibly lame enough to be President, but not nearly cool enough to be an urban blogger. I blame the shuffle button. This is not representative of the music I have on regularly (other than the girly emo-ness of my song selection). The last two songs I bought: Chick Habit by April March and New Soul by Yael Naim (ok, the latter's a little lame because it's in a commercial).

Saturday, June 28, 2008


If you're ever driving down a rural highway late at night in the summer, hearing bugs hit your windshield like a summer rainstorm, and you happen to hit a lightning bug as he is glowing to attract a mate, he will die immediately. His light will take approximately another minute to die.

Friday, June 27, 2008

The road home

It started raining on the drive home, large splattering drops that made it hard to see. Working all day- and the 4 hours of sleep i got last night- made me kind of sleepy. I resisted the urge to pull over and stand in the rain just to feel it on my face and hitting my hair and my clothes. I ran almost out of gas near catonsville and cursed that i hadn't made it to 83. But gas was only 3.93 and at mcdonald's for dinner i got a free coke glass.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

A Note

I know I'm usually better about the comments, but I've been feeling overwhelmed. That said, they all come into my Inbox and I read them, so, thank you.

My grandma survived surgery and is in the ICU tonight. Thanks for your good wishes and prayers, etc., even if I'm not sure if He or She exists, I appreciate the possibility that they help.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

The smell

Today, I wrote about how kids associate alcohol with the emotions of the parent drinking it. Bullshit study? Maybe. But I just opened a jar of Nutella that I bought weeks ago for a dinner party for which I was making dessert (crepes with Nutella and strawberries), and one whiff and I was 15 again, in Germany. In some incredibly weird way, it's like the smell of my emotional home.

Working, Working, Working

Glamocracy: Everyone's Emotions Are Rubbed A Little Raw
Glamocracy: The $1 Billion Question
Glamocracy: The McCainiacs Are Back!
Glamocracy: John McCain, (Over) Ripe For Parody

Jezebel: Crappy Hour
Jezebel: Military Herstory
Jezebel: Daughters of the North: No Countryside For Any Men
Jezebel: For Better Or Worse, Maureen Dowd, Peggy Noonan Speak For Us All
Jezebel: Crappy Hour
Jezebel: Patrick Kennedy Won't Die (Yet)
Jezebel: If All You Have Is A Nucleus, Can You Really Be a Citizen?
Jezebel: Women and Science
Jezebel: Child Care Professionals: Worked Like Dogs, Paid Like Stay-At-Home Moms
Jezebel: My prom picture from 1995 (they made me)

Sound it out

I hate that the word metastasis is a cool word when you don't know what it means, or when it doesn't have implications.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008


I googled my therapist the other day to try to find her number and discovered that she's fairly well known for treating people with gender dismorphia. I felt bad, like i had wasted her time with me and my stupid little problems. Then i felt suddenly less important, like i wanted my problems to have been desperately important and unique be interesting to someone but me. I think when you want to be more personally important to your therapist, that's a sign you need to seek treatment for more than just depression.


I have a recurring nightmare. It always involves one of my teeth cracking and falling out in bits. In my dream, I have that sort of large gritty sensation from it in my mouth, like when you've gotten too much plaque build-up or (if you ever had braces) when they're scraping the remains of cement off your teeth. It's always realistic enough that when I finally managed to wake myself up, I end up checking all my teeth to make sure they're still there, after which I like, heart-pounding, in bed waiting to calm down enough to go back to sleep.

Most times in my nightmare, it happens when I'm chewing gum and it sticks to my teeth, and they come out in my hands as I try to pull the gum out. Last night's dream was a little different. I was in a parking lot, like the one were the Caldor's used to be in Crosstown Plaza, with a group of girls, and suddenly I felt my tooth crack for no reason, my right incisor, and could feel the pieces and the blood floating in my mouth. I spit into my hand, little bits of hard white with the blood, and reached into my mouth to pull out the remainder of my tooth, its root rotted to nothingness, from the top of my mouth and just stood looking at the pieces in my hand, tongue probing the empty spot in my gums. Then I woke up. I could still taste the blood in my mouth.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Things are only going to get worse before they get better

BMW is now advertising how relatively fuel efficient their cars are.

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Road tripping

I'm on the road with my friend Becca, and we aren't sure why a dino would make you want to buy a car, but we think maybe it's just to scare the guests at the hotel across the street? Who knows.

My Id Is Showing

I went out last night with my friend Rohit, who's always been a good shoulder. He was supposed to join us at the dinner/drinks that I brought to a close by being Debbie Downer but was late so he just picked me up and we went to our usual bar, which happens to be the bar at which he introduced me to John. John and I dated last year and he dumped me on my birthday, begged to work it out and then dumped me again when Wonkette fired me. Great guy.

Naturally, John was there because it was obviously going to be that kind of night. But since I arrived a few glasses of wine to the better and, oh, I don't know, hung up on more important things, I didn't notice him despite the fact that he was sitting on the patio next to the door. So he came in and stood directly behind me until I did.

He wanted to talk, of course, to "catch up" for the length of his cigarette. He told us he was smoking inside so that his date wouldn't see,because it was important that I know he was on a daaaate. I was like, yeah, my grandmother is dying. He took another drag, too confused by my non-caring about his date to speak momentarily. Rohit tried not to laugh.

He told me that his sick brother -- the ostensible reason that he didn't have time to date me -- was in the hospital and had been for a few days. I said, well, then, I guess that's why you have time to go out on a date, so that's good. He leaned into and over me to put his cigarette out in the ashtray behind me. He said, I felt like the last time we spoke it didn't end well. I said, it didn't, but that's fine. I wasn't even trying to be a cunt, but between having more important emotional crises and actually not caring anymore, I just said the first things to come into my head.

He went back outside to talk to his date. Rohit watched her yawn. I took phone calls about my grandmother from my sister and my cousin, outside on the street where I could hear and not be trying not to cry in a bar, walking by John and his date without even noticing that they were there until Rohit and I left. The bouncer hugged me as we were leaving, a big hug of the type you give an upset girl, while John watched and his date looked puzzled as to why he'd stopped paying attention to her. It's weird how you never notice that you don't give a shit until long after you do.

Stuff That Is Less Important This Morning

Glamocracy: Obamania, Campaign Finance Edition

Jezebel: Crappy Hour
Jezebel: What Is A Permissible Imperfection In A Child?
Jezebel: Michelle Obama And The Place Of A First Lady
Jezebel: Mario Lopez, A Big Hairy Liar?
Jezebel: There Really Aren't Ways In Which They Won't Lie
Jezebel: If She Doesn't Want Talk, She Probably Doesn't Want To Sit On Your Face
Jezebel: "Great Hat, Kim Kardashian... For Me To Poop On!"

Friday, June 20, 2008

The Call

Tonight, I was sitting at a bar with my friends, typical Friday night, and my cellphone rang. I usually don't pick it up unless I'm concerned it's important which honestly is a broad definition, but I saw it was my parents. My mom -- who has a phobia about calling my cell or my sister's -- was calling, I knew it was bad.

It was bad. I don't have words tonight.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Hungover Thoughts

I thought of this when I woke up this morning, but then I had too much work to do to blog it.

Drinking is my way of walking through the rooms in the mansion in my head (it looks like the one in the game Clue!) and shutting off the lights in random order. I can't possible be drunk and still carry on 15 monologues in my own head. The only real problem is I never know which monologue I'll be left with.

Northern Exposure

Glamocracy: Money, Money, Money
Glamocracy: MoveOn.Org Goes After John McCain

Jezebel: Crappy Hour (with Sinister Rouge!)
Jezebel: Mock A Woman For Her Crimes Against Fashion, Not Her Age or Her Ass
Jezebel: The Secret Sex Lives of Female Chimpanzees
Jezebel: People's Hottest... Whoa, Check Out His Package!
Jezebel: Money Might Buy Some People Happiness, Just Not You
Jezebel: ObamaMonkey Manufacturers Saddened By The Discrimination Against Them
Jezebel: If You Always Like The Emotionally Unavailable, It's Because You Probably Are, Too
Jezebel: I Won't Vote For A Man With a Moustache, But Republicans Should

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Press coverage! Whee!

I wrote another "Issue and the Single Girl" pieces yesterday for Glamocracy on the candidate's tax plans. This time around, it gets picked up by Ezra Klein at the American Prospect, Jonathan Cohn at The New Republic and Paul Caron at the Tax Prof Blog. That's kind of cool.


Glamocracy: Al Gore Loves Obama And the Environment Equally
Glamocracy: Obama Really Needs To Court One Woman's Vote

Jezebel: Monkey On The Lam!
Jezebel: What Is The Definition Of Birth?
Jezebel: Michelle Obama Is Going To Be In For It
Jezebel: Democrats Kiss And Make Up With Everyone Except Lieberman
Jezebel: Crappy Hour
Jezebel: Gay Marriage In California Makes Some People Happy, Others Blathering Idiots
Jezebel: "Social Q's," Answered By The Loser
Jezebel: Another Gay Wedding (I Just Have Something In My Eye! I'm Not Crying!)
Jezebel: What Patriotism Isn't
Jezebel: Heidi Harris Knows What Girls Want, And It's Not Liberal Justices
Jezebel: Beaver, Trollops and Drinking, Oh My!

The drive home

I drove a friend home tonight after a long dinner of catching up. We talked the whole way, so I didn't turn my MP3 player on until I was alone, and it's about a 4 song drive home. Rachel Yamagata was first out of the gate, and so with the humidity gone and the temperature under 70, I rolled down the windows as I drove through an empty city and sang along at the top of my lungs. Some prick in a huge SUV thingie pulled up next to me at a stoplight and stared, but I thought "Fuck that guy" and continued singing. I beat him to the next light.

As I was getting to the bridge, Augustana's Boston came on, and I thought about this song and last summer when I sang along to it alot. I sang along again, but I started to feel really guilty, too. I had partially committed to attending a friend's show tonight, but it was late in the evening and I was running late and had naturally overbooked myself. I suck at guilt. Actually, I'm truly excellent at guilt. It just makes me feel sucky. But the song, too, reminded me of a conversation with another friend this afternoon, in which we talked about just dynamiting our current lives and starting over. I know from experience that it doesn't change enough to make it worth it, but the nihilist in me loves the idea. The chorus came on as I was heading over the bridge and I was tempted to turn up the GW Parkway, to just drive for a while in the dark with the music blaring, but I figured I should come home and sang along instead.
She said I think I'll go to Boston.
I think I'll start a new life.
I think I'll start it over where no one knows my name.
I'll get out of California, I'm tired of the weather.
I think I'll get a lover and fly him out to Spain.
I think I'll go to Boston.
I think that I'm just tired.
I think I need a new town, to leave this all behind.
I think I need a sunrise, I'm tired of the sunset.
I hear it's nice in summer, some snow would be nice.

Sometimes my MP3 player's random setting just fucks with me. Next up was Ani's 32 Flavors, not that I haven't been listening to too much Ani right now. As I came over the bridge and made the turn, I could see heat lightening on the horizon but couldn't hear any thunder. I love lightening storms, I miss having a porch to safely watch them on, and some good company to watch them with. Tonight would've been the best night, with the cool night air and the wet grass, to have a west-facing porch and watch the show. I turned onto my street as the song was winding down, looking for the non-existent after-hours street parking and trying not to think about what I was missing at the show, both the good and the bad. It didn't work.

As I was realizing that I was going to have to suck it up and park in the back lot again, Imitosis came on. I like the weird, minor-keyness of it, let alone the the emptiness of the chorus "We were all basically alone and, despite what all the studies have show, what was mistaken for closeness was just a case for mitosis." But with raindrops hitting my windshield again and no desire to be sopping wet, I got out of my car instead of singing along until the end like usual.

While looking up the links, I emailed my friend whose show I missed an apology. I don't like agreeing to be somewhere and then not making it, not when it comes to friends. Even if it's not the sort of thing that would matter to him, it's the sort of thing that would matter to me if our situations were reversed.

Sometimes, I wonder if I try so hard to make other people happy because somebody ought to be, and that somebody is unlikely to be me regardless of what I do.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

They Like Me, They Really Like Me!

The Columbia Journalism Review's blog wrote another complimentary piece about my Glamocracy health care piece. Whee!

Friday, June 13, 2008

Remains of the week

God, I forgot how the Gawker pace sucks day after day.

Glamocracy: Political Meat and Potatoes followed by Impeachment Pie
Glamocracy: GOP Losses Are Only Sometimes Democratic Gains
Glamocracy: Hey Feminists—Why No Love For Michelle Obama?
Glamocracy: John McCain Just Wants To Be Loved
Glamocracy: On Michelle Obama, Sexism And Ill-Considered Rhymes
Glamocracy: John McCain's Media Death By A Thousand Pricks
Glamocracy: Sexism Sells, But We Aren't Buying It: The Video
Glamocracy: In Memory of Tim Russert

Jezebel: Crappy Hour
Jezebel: An Open Letter To Those Awaiting The Rapture
Jezebel: How Bad a Wife Would I Really Be?
Jezebel: A Porn Addiction Is A Little More Than Just An Interest
Jezebel: Unconditional Love Can Make A Jezebel Cry
Jezebel: So Many Abba-McCain Parodies, So Little Time
Jezebel: Just Another Sticky Night Of Abject Stupidity
Jezebel: Pregnant Justice
Jezebel: Crappy Hour
Jezebel: When Being A Born-Again Virgin Requires Surgery
Jezebel: There Ought To Be A Sign
Jezebel: Meghan McCain, I've Read Jenna Bush. And You Are No Jenna Bush
Jezebel: Shopping Is The New Porn Addiction?
Jezebel: Mary Roach Writes About Sex (And Not Even In a Dirty Way)
Jezebel: Cute Kids, Men And The Truth About Wine
Jezebel: Exorcising the Taint of Sex
Jezebel: Crappy Hour
Jezebel: The Incredible, Inedible Egg
Jezebel: Woman Breaks Barrier... By Cooking
Jezebel: So Long, And Thanks For All The Fish
Jezebel: Are All Women A Little Bi? In A Word: No.
Jezebel: Lessons in Good Parenting
Jezebel: According to Scalia, People Only Get Rights When There's Nothing At Stake
Jezebel: Crappy Hour
Jezebel: ObamaMonkey? There Is No Teachable Moment With Some People.
Jezebel: Beware The Man With A Drug Habit And A Boner
Jezebel: Egypt Imposes Taxes On Child Brides
Jezebel: Lakshmi: Now A Normal Girl, Still a Goddess
Jezebel: Can I Afford a Baby? Hell, I Can't Afford My Drinking Habit.
Jezebel: Goodbye, Tim

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Me on the radio!

Yes, yes, owe links from yesterday. It was busy! Anyway, it was partially busy because I lined up my first live radio interview! You can listen to me live on KQED at 12:00 ET on a panel talking about lobbying by clicking here. If you miss it, you can apparently find audio archives here after the fact.

Friday, June 6, 2008

Things I Miss Out On

They're playing in D.C. tonight, and I heard about it yesterday and naturally did nothing about it. This song... it's sad, actually. There's a guy who probably doesn't remember, but just as I was on the cusp of deciding whether I could really like him or not, just when I was in that moment when I could've walked utterly away without harm or pain, when I could've committed to it being nothing more than a fling, he called me his silver lining. And so I didn't. And it got fucked up anyway, like everything else. But I still listen to this and think of him and think of that moment when I was sort of stupidly hopeful. It's a good feeling, actually, now.

Have I been a little busy?

Glamocracy: Oh, I'm Sorry. You Expected It To Be Over?
Glamocracy: Obama Nabs a Kennedy
Glamocracy: Choose to Vote!
Glamocracy: The Sanctity of Marriage: A Study In Contrasts

Jezebel: Crappy Hour
Jezebel: What Hillary Did
Jezebel: Crappy Hour
Jezebel: Getting Him Out Once He Gets You Off
Jezebel: To Hose, Or Not To Hose? That Is The Question
Jezebel: Over 30 And Single? Obviously, You Can't Be Happy
Jezebel: Ah, Yes, The Boys Club And Their "Humor"
Jezebel: Oldies But Goodies
Jezebel: Crappy Hour
Jezebel: Girl on Girl Violence
Jezebel: How Being A Woman In Politics Can Help, And Hurt
Jezebel: Strange Gifts
Jezebel: Somebody's Getting Their Lands Wet
Jezebel: Idiocracy