My Top 3 Picks

With five contestants left, you might think trying to predict the top three America's Next Top Model-ites would be easy. And it is. This is who I think should be in it anyway. Dominique is too old and crazy, and Whitney is you know, plus-size. They'd never let her win. Although Fatima's been shaky, so I'm mostly just throwing her in there because she's really skinny and that wins every time on this show. Remember Jaslene?

Oh dear lord

Creepy.
My coworker just told someone how funny this movie was. Of course, she's the same person who was excited about seeing "Wild Hogs."

My nice but ridiculous squirrel-loving coworker has taken to listening to ALVIN AND THE CHIPMUNKS MUSIC. What is this, 1987? I mean, I've always been an unabashed fan of "All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth," but COME ON! The faint sound of their freakish helium-induced rodent voices wafting into my cube is just more than one person should have to take. Thank god for headphones.

40 mg of MAGIC

If you can get past ~1:30 in this video by my Australian boyfriend(s) without tearing up, then you either have no heart, or your meds are finally working. Either way, CONGRATS!

Quote o' the Day: Dudez want to join the feminist club edition

"Clearly the male experience of “anger and frustration” on his wife’s behalf is qualitatively identical to enduring the persistent threat of violence that every woman suffers whenever she leaves the house (and often even when she doesn’t), or the fact that white dudes own several of her internal organs, or living in poverty with 3 kids and no healthcare." -Twisty McAwesomeblogger* at I Blame the Patriarchy. God I love it when people joke about internal organs. Seriously. Note: I am all about men being feminists and/or allies, but don't patronize us. PLEASE. *I made up this nickname. Duh.

I thought the comics page was supposed to be "family-friendly"

I thought I'd pass over this latest depressing installment of "a life not worth living" AKA Saturday's Pluggers, but my roommate reminded me how horrible it was, and I had to blog about it. More evidence of drug abuse and the heavy, crushing dread that comes from last-ditch efforts to salvage a few more precious moments from a wasted and worthless life. Here are those pathetic pluggers, too bogged down by their own addiction and codependency to do anything but separate their pills into little piles all weekend long. I'd almost feel sorry for them if I wasn't also pissed off at the complete waste of prescription drugs on those sad shells of semi-human beings who probably don't even enjoy the high they get after downing their favorite drug cocktails. You couldn't even call their use "recreational." No, pluggers suck too much to have real fun. The real purpose to all the pill-popping is that it's the only thing that will actually keep them functioning. I know if I were a plugger, I'd have to be medicated out of my mind to keep from killing myself at any moment. But maybe that's part of it for pluggers. Maybe Mrs. Chicken Plugger really wants to off herself, but back on the farm, Ma Chicken ingrained in her to "never take the easy way out." So she plods* through her empty life that she shares with that giant hideous man-dog she once thought handsome. Every six hours brings a new wave of numbness to block out the shame and disappointment.

While Mr. Dog Plugger is just an asshole. He refuses to die, to give in. Instead he lives in a pharmaceutical company executive's wet dream of artificially extended old age, knowing each dose keeps him alive longer, forces his wife to take care of him longer. He would be miserable if he could feel anything besides his enjoyment in knowing how much his nagging wife resents him. Although, whatever combination they've had her on lately has made her a lot more agreeable. A lot more sleeping, a lot less talking. She's quit yelling out the answers to Jeopardy before the contestants, making him feel stupid and worthless. He hasn't felt stupid and worthless in, how long? Wait, is this a nursing home? When did we move out of the old house?! Where are our children to take care of us? Oh, hello nice nurse lady. Yes I will take my medicine. Thank you very muuuuuch......


*Do chickens plod? I mean, obviously they walk, but is there a good word for it?

In praise of Gardetto's®

Slightly classier than my usual straight-out-of-the-bag method.

Love. them. They are the perfect combo of carboliciousness and greasy/salty goodness. I remember I never liked the rye chips growing up, but now they are totally the highlight of the bag for me. (Although I have to say I bought a bag of just the rye chips and it was really salty and boring. Apparently the mix is the key.) Pretzels, crunchy seasoned bread sticks, chomp them down with a Diet Coke®* and for a little while, I don't want to just bang my head against my desk in boredom. Also, they are called "snak-ens®." And while I generally disapprove of ignoring standard orthographic conventions, the -ens part is so cute!

According to my current bag of Gardetto's® (original recipe, family size rather than my usual snack size, so it lasts longer), the Gardetto Family Bakery was founded by Baptiste Gardetto in 1932 in Milwaukee. (Another good thing to come out of Wisconsin!) Well, his wife (I assume, the bag doesn't go into details) Judy used to take the trimmed-off ends of breadsticks and throw them in with pretzels and whatnot with "her own blend of special seasonings." If by "special" General Mills means "full of delicious crack," then yes, I concur with that description. It is, however, important to have a napkin on hand while eating the Gardetto's®. They get your hands a little greasy/crumbly. It's totally worth it, though. NOM NOM NOM.

This blog endorses Gardetto's® as its Official Afternoon Snack of Choice™.

I obviously found a new fun internet® tool!™


*Although, the vending machine in my building is out of Diet Coke®, so I've been drinking Mountain Dew®. Anne pointed out that that is very junior high boy of me. But it sure as hell beats Diet Pepsi®. Ew.

GOT.

See previous.

You guys are all looking a lot blonder and thinner these days...

HEY KIDS-

DID YOU KNOW THAT THIS IS MY 100TH POST? HOW EXCITING!

Ahem.

Sorry about the caps lock. Tracking my traffic, it appears as though I have up to a couple dozen daily readers (about to break 500 with absolute unique visitors, too), which is AWESOME, since I've really only been at this for a few months. But you loyal and indulgent fans/siblings/roommates who feel obligated to check my blog should feel free to use this as an open suggestion thread. Is there any random shit you want me to write about? New features? Have I overlooked your favorite ex-President and/or obscure historical event in Thursday U.S. History Blogging so far? Just let me know. The internet and I are listening.

Love and vodka shots,

Lauren

I will not be ashamed

Just because I've been listening to this constantly (even though it came out like 2 years ago) and burned the CD from the Perpetual Roommate and am learning to play it on the guitar doesn't mean I have bad taste. It's catchy as hell. And seriously, gospel choir? How can you resist? There is something awkward about the gospel choir/Natasha interactions, however. The words "problematic" and "cultural appropriation" keep coming to mind. So mostly I don't really watch the video, I just have it playing so I can listen to it while I read blogs/do work occasionally.

Jefferson & Adams: America's First Frenemies?

Frenemy: I'd like to start out by saying that I was incredibly relieved to discover that that horrible bastion of pseudo-feminist mediocrity* and shitty storytelling Sex and the City is not the origin of this useful little word. So I'm going to feel free to use it in this instance. See, John Adams (did you know that he was a Junior?) and Thomas Jefferson were both pretty instrumental in shaping the United States as we know it, both served as President (#2 and #3), but they had a long history of political disagreements, and didn't really come together as friends until later in life. Ex-Presidents don't really have that much going on, from what I gather, so why not reconcile?

Born in 1725 in Massachusetts, John Adams attended Harvard and later chose a career as a lawyer. He represented Massachusetts at the various Continental Congresses, and was one of the major figures in the logistical execution of the American Revolution (securing money, foreign partnerships, etc.). He mostly wrote Massachusetts' constitution himself, was on Jefferson's Declaration of Independence back-up committee, and served as our nation's first ambassador to Great Britain after the Revolutionary War. Also, he did not own slaves and was a second cousin to American beer patriarch Samuel Adams. As George Washington's VP, Adams was constantly hanging around in the Senate, influencing legislation, breaking ties, and earning ridiculous nicknames. Due to his size and pompous tendencies, he was dubbed "His Rotundity" by his senatorial colleagues.

Thomas Jefferson was born in 1743 in Virginia and was a fucking genius. Blahblahblah, philosophy, French, Greek, violin, architecture, archaeology, etc., etc. Obviously he was super-cool and outshone Adams in pretty much every way because he has a fucking monument (Remember kids, no silent raves!). Jefferson went to the College of William and Mary where he was in the Flat Hat Club (god I love secret societies), studied lots of philosophy, and developed a taste for wine. He eventually decided on a law career, though he never really liked presenting in court; he much preferred writing. Know why? Because THOMAS JEFFERSON HAD A LISP (so did Jimi Hendrix, FYI). So he was Governor of Virginia for a while, pretty much wrote that whole Declaration of Independence thingy, served as minister to France in the 1780s, and argued with Alexander Hamilton about money and shit.

ANYWAY, so Adams and Jefferson had been working with each other for a few decades when the election of 1796 happened. Jefferson was like, "I'm bored hanging out at Monticello fucking my slaves, I should probably be President since I'm like, really good at everything." And Adams was like, "Oh no, you didn't." But the Electoral College had a silly rule back then that forced the runner-up in the presidential election to serve as Vice President. HAHA. So though Adams squeaked past Jefferson for the win, he was stuck with Ol' Thomas "Man of the People" as his #2. AWKWARD. Luckily, Vice Presidents have no real power or authority, and Adams ignored Jefferson as much as possible (just like Washington had ignored Adams). But Jefferson was all, "I'm going to work on this Democratic-Republican Party and fight with Hamilton," and Adams was like, "Hey, Hamilton is on my team (the Federalists), but we don't actually really like each other all that much, so this whole situation is really awkward for me." It didn't help that Britain and France were at war at this time. Jefferson and the Republicans were pro-French, but the Federalists were on Team Brit. There was this whole naval Quasi-War with France, the XYZ Affair that I'm too lazy to explain, but you know I'd just link to Wikipedia anyway so do it yourself if you care, but luckily Adams sent a guy to talk to Napoleon, and it eventually ended.

But the Federalists still had troubles. They were pissed off that an opposition party even existed, so they passed the Alien and Sedition Acts to muzzle the Republicans and screw over their immigrant-heavy base. Adams wasn't really involved in the writing of these laws, but he did sign them. And Jefferson was NOT PLEASED, to say the least. George Washington, the unifying figure of the Federalists, died in 1799, just in time for the party to drop the ball in the "Revolution of 1800." After a hotly contested election stuck in the House of Representatives (thanks again for the Electoral College, Founding Fathers!), Jefferson and the Democratic-Republicans proved that the United States could peacefully transfer power across party lines.

We all know that as President, Thomas Jefferson got lucky and was able to purchase most of America for like $.002/acre from Napoleon, and also he achieved some other things and promoted religious tolerance and its separation from government and blahblahblah. Adams was so depressed about losing, that he didn't even go to Jefferson's inauguration. I've got to admit, that's a pretty pathetic move. Take it from me, avoiding social situations like that just makes you look immature. But I guess they didn't have photo ops back then, so it was maybe for the best to just bypass any tense situations during the swearing-in. Adams did get one final jab into Jefferson, however: his midnight judicial appointments. Jefferson was stuck with Chief Justice John Marshall, who made the Supreme Court equal with the other branches of government. Jefferson was totally pissed again, but lifetime appointments are a bitch like that.

Anyway, Jefferson passed the executive baton to Madison after two terms, and eventually was reconciled with his old rival Adams. They became friends and wrote each other a bunch of letters. Jefferson founded UVa, Adams' son became President in 1824, and the two ex-Presidents both died on the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Competitive bastards until the end.

P.S. Don't you just want to pinch John Adams' little cheeks? Okay, just me.


*To play on a phrase coined by the Pretentious Ex-Boyfriend.

Blogwhoredoms

Hey, my friend and de facto roommate Josh (who encouraged me to get this blog up and running) now has a great new blog of his own: Embrace Your Inner Nerd. Go say hi and embrace the nerdery. Although if I'm honest, I've got to say that Josh's nerd is less "inner" and more "completely obvious at first glance." Just sayin'.

Quote o' the Day

"If there's anything this president will respond to, it's written criticism." -Rob Riggle of the Daily Show Via Crooks & Liars.

Comics, work-avoidance, etc.

"'Between Friends' is a contemporary comic strip that celebrates the essence and angst of three forty-something women friends."


First of all, all the Earth Day-themed comics yesterday were STUPID. Just throwing that out there. This is a particularly atrocious example of Between Friends AKA Cathy^3. Is that "little old lady" riding a hoverboard? What is this, Back to the Future? I see no Michael J. Fox, no Christopher Lloyd, no redeeming social value. Does she or does she not make you think immediately of Mr. Weatherbee from the Archie comics? No? Still no? Whatever, you are totally blind.

But speaking of shitty comics and the mocking thereof, I had become concerned recently that Joe Mathlete of Joe Mathlete Explains Today's Marmaduke had totally lost the inspiration for his awesome blog. He randomly decided to answer some emails of other concerned readers about his lack of passion/posting in general. My confidence has been restored and I look forward to much awesome Marmaduke assholishness. Also, Joe Mathlete draws amazing things on index cards. Like ten pirates.

One more random tidbit, is some guy who's reading the bible's take on Jesus over at Jezebel. He thinks Jesus was totally bros-before-hos and a huge mooch. I could see that interpretation. Luckily the bible is a post-written, multi-translated storybook that I no longer have any need to believe in. I'm sticking with the Sexy Gay Jesus all the way.

Playing with Barbies only skewed my body image as much as everything else in this world

This is a Barbie whose bangs I would have most definitely cut off as a child. Ew.

Barbies. My sister and I had a shit-ton of Barbies growing up. My mom passed on some of her old dolls, and it was a treat for us to get new ones for every birthday/Christmas/visit to Grandma's/whenever we saved up enough allowance to go to Toys R Us, etc. My grandpa built us some sweet wooden houses and furniture that are way classier than any plastic shit Mattel has ever manufactured. My sister's house even had removable walls! My mom decorated them with contact paper and felt. We had three cars and boxes full of Barbie clothes. We had a room in our house that was the sewing/Barbie room. It was ridiculous. And when I say "Barbies," I don't mean we had three or four dozen matching blonde ladies--no, I mean we had plenty of those, but also tons of Skippers, Courtneys, Kens, Kevins, Stacies, Midges, Todds, Alans, a random assortment of black Barbies, the Hart Family, an Asian one named "Kira" or something, a Claudia from the Baby-Sitters' Club doll, an Ariel/Little Mermaid Barbie, a bunch of babies of various races, and most importantly: an Indiana Jones action figure neither whose existence nor our possession of it was ever fully explained to me, but whatevs. By the time we played with him, our Harrison Ford doll possessed khaki pants, an awesome leather jacket, no shirt or shoes, a ridiculous tan, and could kick Ken's ass (and not really fit into his clothes very well).

So, Barbies. I mostly enjoyed choosing their clothes and setting up their houses. Sure, there were often emotional romantic sagas and complex family dramas, but by the time I was 12 or so, it was all about the aesthetics and very little about the "make-believe." But I never really wanted to be Barbie herself. Barbie was too old, her boobs were too big, I couldn't relate. I mostly preferred to create my own teen dramas with Skipper and all her friends. I had one Skipper (I actually think that one belonged to my sister) that I spent inordinate amounts of time dressing like Melissa Joan Hart on Clarissa Explains It All. It was pretty easy considering that most Barbie clothes are ridiculous and not something real people would ever wear. That was another creative challenge, trying to make the Barbies look normal. There were never enough pants to go around what with all the ball gowns and bikinis, but luckily my mom made us Barbie clothes, so we could fill in some of the wardrobe gaps. My brother would play with my sister and me on Sunday afternoons when we weren't allowed to play with our friends. We had some crazy adventures with those dolls.

So anyway, this post doesn't really have much of a point beyond reminiscing about Barbies. I mean, I was kind of inundated with the "girl" stuff growing up, but luckily my cynicism kept me from taking it too seriously. And I'd definitely encourage all kids (regardless of gender) to play with dolls. It's fun. And how else are the older kids going to tell them about sex without visual aids? Doll play promotes creativity and helps them explore interpersonal relationships. Or they could just make a big string of rubber bands, hang it from the ceiling, and make the Barbies "bungee jump" by their necks. Not that my brother ever did that.

UPDATE: I forgot to link to this story at Jezebel about how worldwide Barbie sales are down. NOTE TO THE CHILDREN OF TODAY/THE FUTURE: get off your fucking computer and take your Barbies on a camping trip outside. Seriously. Best idea ever. Helps if you have a Barbie camping set that has a bunch of pieces you lost, but then you use the remaining tent poles to build Barbie gymnastics equipment later, so it's all good anyway.

OMG Rich is a genius.

I know I am constantly touting Rich's recaps at fourfour. But SERIOUSLY. I practically just watch ANTM so I will have context for Rich's awesomeness. This diagram he made perfectly illustrates my feelings about the size of Saleisha's Cover Girl commercial hair:

Quote o' the Day WITH VIDEO

"You never see a rabbi on TV interpreting the New Testament, DO YOU?" -Lewis Black on how the Old Testament is the JEWS' book (~5:45-5:10) Via Pharyngula.

Your morning dose of stupid

So, apparently to be a plugger you must:

a) Wear men's shoes.
b) Be aware of where your ancestors bought their clothing and attempt to patronize the same businesses. If they still exist. CHANGE IS FRIGHTENING. MUST KEEP TRADITION.
c) Have an incompetent mail carrier. You can't just leave that shit hanging on the mailbox like that! On the other hand, who's going to steal a pair of boots that may have once been worn by a dead man?
d) Suck beyond all belief.

Monday wonday

I made delicious oatmeal chocolate-peanut butter swirl chip cookies yesterday. My Mormon upbringing was good for one thing: superb baking skillz. NOM NOM NOM.

It's a beautiful day here in Minnesota, and due to the fun-filled weekend I had, I've fallen a bit behind on my trivia research. By which I mean I haven't done any yet. So I'm working on that right now instead of composing insightful blog posts (or, you know, doing my job). One of these days, though, I swear I'll write one. In the meantime, though, here's an amusing post by Punkass Marc at Punkass Blog: Buy our product. Otherwise, vaginas win. Huh. According to Blogger's spellcheck, "vaginas" is not a word. "Vagina" is, but no plurals allowed. Apparently the gathering of more than one female reproductive system should not occur. I'll have to tell my roommates that so some of us can move out. Too many vagina"s" in one house. Awkward!

Anyway, I should do some work and continue to get ready for my weekly MONSTER TRIVIA MEETING with Anne. There has been discussion of wearing monster costumes. Unfortunately, this dream has yet to come to fruition. Maybe next week.

The internet is a many-splendored thing

"Imagine me half-naked."

OMG I am looking forward to taking a nap this afternoon. I've been looking forward to napping since I didn't take a nap yesterday. Since drowsiness is blocking my muse and I'm resisting the Diet Coke urge, I'm going to post some links to, you know, other stuff on the webernets.

First: Did you know that the park police don't like it when you dance at the Jefferson Memorial? Bastard pigs.

Second: Someone fabulous has created pictures of animated Disney guys as underwear models (NSFW). Including my favorites, Thomas from Pocahontas and the Donny Osmond-singing-voiced Mulan guy. If only Anastasia had been Disney; I had such a crush on Dmitri. He was drawn very well. Via Webster's Is My Bitch.

Third: I totally second Twisty that Feministing is a "feminist gateway drug." A great way to start exploring the feminist blogosphere. I found it kind of overwhelming at first, but they have tons of links and enthusiasm and I still check it multiple times a day for quick hits on various news stories.

I'm just going to go ahead and declare this the Quote o' the Day

"Thank you, Your Holiness. Awesome speech." -Our dear president, George W. Bush, to the pope. I'm not kidding. Everybody's favorite Jewish crush, Jon Stewart, covers the pope coverage (quote comes at end of video).

Martin Van Buren: He had a lot more nicknames than terms of office

Have you ever seen a more impressive pair of sideburns?

THE CAREFUL DUTCHMAN

Martin Van Buren served as President of the United States 1837-1841. He was a Dutch American. The first president to be born as a citizen (the country didn't exist yet when those other old fogies were born), he grew up in Kinderhook,* NY with his Dutch-American parents. They spoke Dutch at home. Roommate A was an exchange student in the Netherlands in high school, and she says once you start understanding Dutch, you start to feel really stupid for not getting it before, since it's so closely related to English. But we can all still hope that Martin Van Buren had a bit of an accent. Because that would amuse me. He was known as a deliberate man, "careful" in his political dealings, always polite to his enemies and never quick to anger. This is probably due to the fact that, as we all know, Dutch people spend all their time smoking pot and fucking whores. Keeps everybody on an even keel, is what I'm saying. Not that Martin Van Buren did that stuff. That we know of.

THE LITTLE MAGICIAN

So, of course, like all good politicians, Martin Van Buren started out as a lawyer. But he was too ambitious not to go into politics. Van Buren gained his reputation as a magician (or a wizard-- Expelliarmus!) by working with various figures and factions to help construct a political machine in New York state, and later help bring Andrew Jackson to power. He was totally all about building up a spoils system (James Garfield says thanks, by the way) and led a Democratic movement called the Bucktails. Why don't we name more political factions after animals these days? Is is because we'll be labeled as hippie environmentalist tree hugging spotted owl fuckers? Because I would totally agitate on behalf of, like, a sloth party. Maybe that sends the wrong message, I've heard rumors that people think Congress "moves slowly." Those people have never had to work at a gas station and wait for old people with shaky hands to write you checks for their gas with a huge line of annoyed customers waiting behind them.** No, maybe a velociraptor movement would be more effective. Oh yeah, Martin Van Buren. So Martin Van Buren was some sort of ridiculous political genius. And he was 5'6". Hence, "Little Magician," etc.

THE PETTICOAT PET IN THE KITCHEN CABINET

So, after holding some more local positions, Martin Van Buren was elected to the Senate in the 1820s. Some crazy shit went down, like the Corrupt Bargain of 1824, various tariff and slavery shenanigans, etc. So even though the snappily-dressed "Petticoat Pet" Van Buren was totally BFF with Andrew Jackson, he remained on good terms with John Quincy Adams and Henry Clay, managing not to alienate any opponents. But he campaigned hard for Jackson in the election of 1828, touring various states and using what are now known by political nerds as "grassroots organizing" methods. Van Buren had a brief term as New York's governor, but resigned when Jackson appointed him Secretary of State. Now, Jackson's cabinet was full of craziness. They called it the Kitchen Cabinet for reasons I am too lazy to look up, but there was one of my favorite political scandals, the Peggy Eaton Affair, which helped fuck over slave state-loving and bad hair enthusiast John C. Calhoun's political prospects, but due to his polite and politic treatment of Mrs. Eaton and ability to remain untouched by the various rivalries and political dust ups, Martin Van Buren emerged as Jackson's heir apparent.

Secrets of Andrew Jackson's popularity revealed. First presidential candidate to give me (or Martin Van Buren) a piggyback ride gets my vote. I guess McMaverick's out. ('Cause he's old, see.)

THE RED FOX

Some people called him the Red Fox. Because he had red hair. And he was a sly and savvy politician. He had helped build what became to be known as the Democratic Party. They held their first real convention in 1832. Van Buren was chosen as Jackson's vice presidential running mate, and they won in a landslide. He is credited with the spread of "Jacksonian Democracy," but as far as I know, vice presidents never really do much, so that's all I have to say about that.

OLD KINDERHOOK (O.K.)***

Andrew Jackson's tailcoats were awesomely long and pulled Van Buren (there were even "O.K. clubs" full of his supporters) right into the White House, defeating William Henry Harrison (Ol' Tippecanoe) in the 1836 election. Unfortunately for Van Buren, 1837 brought with it one of our young nation's first economic crises. They called these "panics" back then, and it was known as the Panic of 1837. Apparently everything fell apart, though it wasn't really Van Buren's fault. He totally got Jimmy Cartered. Or rather, Jimmy Carter totally got Van Burened. There were various treasury issues, border conflicts with the British in Canada, he refused to annex Texas (saved that for Polk-y!) and he got a new nickname from those suffering from the economic depression, "Martin Van Ruin." No Van Burenvilles, that I know of, however.****

THE FLYING DUTCHMAN

Maybe they called him this because he "flew" out of office in 1841 after being defeated by his old rival Tippecanoe (who died in office, haha). He tried to run again in 1844 and was nominated by some crazies in 1848, but nothing panned out. Also, he was once a slaveowner and was kind of ambivalent about that whole "free vs. slave states" situation, but supposedly he supported Lincoln later on. Probably because Lincoln was like 17 inches taller than him and could have broken his little Dutch ass in half. But that's not how Abe rolled. Anyway, Martin Van Buren died eventually of some sort of illness back in Kinderhook or something. Blahblahblah. Here's more nicknames:

-The American Tallyrand
-Matty
-Little Van
-The Little Dutchman
-Machiavellian Belshazzar


Some of the nicknames herein were affectionately borrowed from a newly-discovered presidential blogging compatriot at The Life Tussle.


*Which I believe means "murder your children" in Dutch. Or German. Whatever.

** Note to old people: DEBIT CARDS ARE NOT HARD. ASK YOUR GRANDKIDS HOW TO USE THEM. EVERYONE WILL THANK YOU. Thank you.

***Some people on the internet claim this is the origin of the word "O.K." I refuse to believe it or to research it any further. Also, I prefer the spelling "okay," because it's a word, not a fucking corrall.

****Hoovervilles. They're funny. So is the word "shantytown." It sounds like a place where you just sing ridiculous tunes about the ocean all day. Like sea shanties. Wow, this Diet Coke I'm drinking must have, like, super tangent-inducing powers or something, because I am on one today.

Some links... or whatever

I've fallen a bit behind on my blog reading due to actually having work to do, and thus my blog writing inspiration has fallen quickly into neglect. Also, I'm still waiting for my upped dosage of Prozac to finally kick in, and I've been lacking much motivation beyond just willing the time to pass more quickly for a while now.* So, everything's coming up dandelions. Though I do have more sweet presidential blogging in store for tomorrow, so get excited. Or at least start thinking about getting excited. But so since I'm lacking the ability to create my own content, I will point you towards some good stuff other people wrote: -The awesome (published! Have book, reading and review forthcoming. Someday.) Amanda Marcotte points out the injustices being wrought on America's prison population. Apparently risks of mail-borne "terrorist" substances warrant keeping prisoners from receiving mail on anything but postcards (I believe this is in Texas). We don't let these people vote, and now they can't even get letters from their families? What if their kids drew them pictures larger than a postcard? How are they supposed to carry on affairs with women who look for prisoners in the personal ads? But seriously, the way we treat people who have been convicted of crimes in this country is obscene. Luckily, as a middle-class white lady, unless grad school doesn't work out and I'm forced to turn to a life of crime to survive, I'll probably never have to go to prison. And that's kind of the problem. It's so easy to believe that chipping away at prisoners' rights doesn't affect the freedoms of non-convicts. But it's all part of the same oppressive system. So write Uncle Jim that letter on a series of twelve postcards (hope he gets 'em all!) and enjoy receiving your free American mail, for the time being, anyway. Prison looks askance at stable source of human dignity. (Pandagon) -At Shakesville, William K. Wolfrum responds to claims that he has anger issues. Choice quote: "I was once a fisherman. That's right, a fucking fisherman. I brought home food. I'm a fucking hero and anyone who has a problem with how I express myself can fuck themselves." Read the whole thing for more LOLs.** "Listen assholes, I don't have a temper problem, got it?" (Shakesville) -MENSTRUATION. Just wanted to get all the squeamish boys off the pages so us girls can have a chat. No, not really. I hate how many grown men are "grossed out" by periods. I mean, bloody tampons are kind of icky, but some of them freak out if they even KNOW you're bleeding. As if acknowledging a biological process will somehow rub off gross girl germs on them.*** But anway, M. LeBlanc at Bitch Ph.D. wrote an awesome post about periods and the constant social pressure to pretend we don't have them. Sometimes you've just got to be frank about how shitty you feel and why, and I think if we were more honest about these things, there wouldn't be so many misconceptions about how PMS works, etc. Anyway, I'm also glad to give a shout-out to another ex-Mormon so go read it. Coming out of the menstruation closet (warning: features possibly NSFW picture of someone's ass). (Bitch Ph.D.) *Is this information awkward for other people? Wait, this is my blog, I don't give a fuck. I think it's best just to be upfront about these sorts of things. Mostly I apologize for being lame; I'm working on it. **This rhymes with "rolls," (duh) like the bread. Mmm, carbs... ***Remember the fucking menstrual blood scene in Superbad? Yeah, it would be gross to get someone's period blood on you, but I'm pretty familiar with the biology and physics of menstruating, and there's NO FUCKING WAY a chick could get that much blood on your leg without it soaking through her own clothes (apparently she wasn't wearing underwear or any sort of tampon or anything) and have it dripping down her legs. I mean, COME ON. Another reason I would have liked that movie a lot more had I ever been a teenage boy. I realize this scenario is incredibly unlikely and represents misogyny at its dumbest.

Been bit by the lazy bug

But I am digging the new Kooks album.

Pluggers leads me to advocate legalizing assisted suicide*

HOW ARE PLUGGERS EVEN STILL ALIVE?! If they have so many doctors' appointments, maybe they should be hospitalized, or at the very least, residing in some sort of assisted-living facility. I mean, I realize a PDA would be WAY too fancy and newfangled for a plugger, but what happened to regular old paper day planners or calendars? Is this plugger just particularly bad a cleaning out his wallet, or does he really have to go to the doctor that much? If it's the latter, he should probably just show up every day and hang around the waiting room until it's his turn. Or maybe he should just look into getting euthanized. Just a suggestion. We do it to animals all the time, and really, it might be time to just cut his losses.** Goddamn pluggers.


*I actually already support this. But especially for pluggers.

**As well as the taxpayer's. That freak of nature must be sucking on the teat of social welfare if he's so poor and still able to get constant medical care.

Musical diversion in lieu of uninspired blogging

A few notes: a) The Commitments is a fucking awesome movie. b) The lead singer, Andrew Strong, was only 16 when they made the movie. He was the son of somebody working on the film, and they were like, "Hey, this kid is really good." c) Watch out for goosebumps. Seriously. I'm such a sucker for an awesome voice.

The Sexy Gay Jesus: Who's your god now?

OMG, Google image search for "sexy gay jesus" (risky at work, I know) brought me some Milli Vanilli. I love the internet. Have I mentioned that?

The Sexy Gay Jesus is my deity of choice (besides Mr. Deity, obvs). My crazy friend from freshman year of college made him up one day in the cafeteria. I was pretty sure god was going to strike me down for laughing. But the more I think about, the more I really believe that if gods were real, The Sexy Gay Jesus would totally be the way to go, worship-wise. And maybe it's just my (sadly neglected) inner fag hag that motivates this, but I could totally get on board a gospel taught by a hot, gay god. Of course, I picture The Sexy Gay Jesus just hanging out with me all the time. The Sexy Gay Jesus isn't for everyone, after all, and he and I like to get drunk and make each other laugh while checking out the same guys. He's more of a gay best friend/personal deity combo. And I may mention him from time to time, so you should probably get to know a little something about him. Because if The Sexy Gay Jesus were actually in charge of shit, he'd make some pretty awesome changes.

1.* The Sexy Gay Jesus would make it so hateful assholes could no longer use his name to promote their causes.

2. He would only rarely hold religious services, and they would mostly consist of an open bar and a sweet-ass dance party.

3. The Sexy Gay Jesus would be the greatest matchmaker of all time. Mostly I mean that The Sexy Gay Jesus would have a lot of hot hetero friends to hook me and me friends up with. And they would never turn out to be assholes because otherwise The Sexy Gay Jesus wouldn't hang out with them.

4. The Sexy Gay Jesus would probably kind of be a slut. But in a safe, fun sort of way. I'd fuck The Sexy Gay Jesus if he weren't so gay. I mean, have you seen his six-pack?!

5. You could pray to The Sexy Gay Jesus about ANYTHING, and he'd always answer and give you the best advice. Like, "Dump him" or "Never wear that shirt again" or "Take another shot." Yeah, The Sexy Gay Jesus would totally love getting drunk dials. And making them too!

6. The Sexy Gay Jesus would be fucking hilarious.

7. And he'd only turn the water into the most delicious wine.




*I am totally getting out of control with the outlines. I hope my grad school program will accept a master's thesis in the form of a ridiculous list of numbered but kind of unconnected thoughts.

Warren G. Harding: Tragically being stripped of his "Worst President Ever" title by the current administration

They say he was chosen because he "looked presidential." He just looks like an old white guy to me... Oh, right.

Warren "Gamaliel" Harding* used to be considered one of our nation's shittiest presidents. Ohioan Warren G managed to oversee (or more accurately, completely fail to oversee) a ridiculous number of political scandals within his administration in the two years he served as president. Yeah, he was wildly popular pre-Teapot Dome, the first sitting U.S. Senator to be elected president, helped officially end World War I, pardoned socialists, instituted the administration for veteran's affairs, blahblahblah other useful things. But Harding's career really served as a precursor for the newer, trashier brand of politics that emerged in the twentieth century. Some of the campaign tactics, personal and financial shenanigans, and general relaxed attitude toward corruption remind me eerily of some more recent events in our nation's history. I will now make an outline to help you understand our man WG. Ways in which Warren G. Harding helped ruin America: Part I: Personal failings 1. Suffered from occasional bouts with "exhaustion" that caused him to be hospitalized a number of times, beginning in his twenties. Now don't get me wrong, ain't nothing wrong with having a "nervous temperament" or mental illness. Duh. I'm just not sure that a history of institutional treatment for one's nerves isn't something we should maybe consider when choosing a U.S. President. Luckily for Harding, the press was a little crappier at digging up personal information about public figures back then. 2. Not so faithful to his wife. He had a long-standing affair with a woman named Carrie Fulton Phillips. After the Republican Party found out their presidential nominee had this skeleton in his closet, they sent her to Japan and paid her off big-time. Harding's descendants have successfully blocked the public release of the Phillips-Harding love letters until 2023, the 100th anniversary of Warren G's death. I know what I'm marking on my calendar! 3. May have had an illegitimate child** with another other woman. Never been proved, but still. Sleazy! 4. Was actually pretty shitty at public speaking. He insisted on writing his own speeches and made up words. His main platform slogan "A return to normalcy" (in reference to the end of WWI) was considered ridiculous at the time because nobody said "normalcy," they said "normality." But he liked the way it sounded so much that he kept it. What a jackass. H.L. Mencken said that "he writes the worst English that I have ever encountered." And he was, like, a famous writer, so he would know that shit.

Not to be confused with this guy.

Part II: All the shit that went down on his watch Subsection A: The 1920 presidential campaign 1. During a deadlocked convention, some "smoke-filled room" (I bet they had a sweet hookah) decided that WG would be a good choice for the Republican nominee. Sketchy. 2. Was subject to rumors that he had secret black ancestors. Good thing America has come such a long way and we totally aren't racist or accuse people of having secret black babies or anything anymore. This is actually not his fault, but you know, whatevs. 3. Was one of the first candidates to receive celebrity endorsements (Hollywood types and famous rich people like Henry Ford). 4. Increase in media exposure: newsreel coverage, election results on the radio, etc. Subsection B: The Harding Administration 1921-23 1. Brought in all his classy pals to run the country. They were known as the "Ohio Gang." I will have to watch out for gangs when I move to Ohio. Especially ones made up of lots of old white guy politicians. 2. Widespread government corruption. Apparently this gang just did whatever the hell they wanted to and Harding had no clue as to what was really going on in his administration. I find this hard to believe. But then again, I have a hard time believing people actually thought he was handsome, but supposedly they did, so I guess maybe I need to put on my 1920s glasses to really understand what they're talking about. 3. TEAPOT DOME SCANDAL. Supposedly Harding was blissfully unaware of what was happening until shortly before his death. If you're too lazy to actually read about it like I am too lazy to really explain it, all you really need to know is: oil, money, loans, money, bribes, money, disappearing records, money. After Congress started investigating, the FBI is said to have broken into the investigators' offices and wiretapped them. Boy am I glad the government doesn't do unconstitutional shit like that anymore! 4. Had a sketchy death. While on some lame countrywide tour, Harding suddenly fell ill. He died a week later, probably from a heart attack. HOWEVER: his wife Florence wouldn't allow an autopsy, so rumors flew about the "real" cause of death. All-around good guy Gaston Means published a book in 1930 that alleged Mrs. Harding was complicit in the poisoning murder of her husband. I support this claim. I think it's a lot more interesting that there was a conspiracy to save Harding's reputation before he arrived back in Washington to the mess of the erupting Teapot Dome Scandal, than that Harding had always suffered from poor health and just got sick and died for no reason. In all, politics has been just as a dirty a business as it is now since AT LEAST 1920. And I think we should all take our hats off to America's Second-Worst President for all his important contributions to our country's legacy. To learn more about Warren G. Harding, check out this reputable source. *This is not a nickname, it's his actual middle name, but it's funny so I put it in quotes. I can do that. I'm a writer. On the internet. **I use the term "illegitimate child" ironically. It's old-fashioned and judgmental, though a hell of a lot better than "love child" (worst. Supremes. song. ever.).

Putting a feather in my reviewer's cap: The Lookout

I rented The Lookout recently because it has Joseph Gordon-Levitt in it (sigh), was supposed to be good, and I thought my "I only like actually good movies" roommate Ka$h would want to watch it with me. I ended up watching it on my own last night, but I was totally not disappointed. The movie started out sad but slowly turned tense. You know if you're watching a movie alone and at some point find yourself yelling aloud to the screen: "No, no, no, no, no, no!" or "Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it!" it's gotta be good. Or at least engaging. The movie starts out showing (not telling!) us how Gordon-Levitt's character--Chris, a hotshot high school hockey player--got into a horrible car accident on prom night (he was driving) that killed two friends, took his girlfriend's leg, and left him with a serious head injury. Four years later, Chris is living with an awesome (and sweet) blind man named Lewis, who is played by the always-lovable Jeff Daniels, whom I have had great affection for ever since the eighth grade when we were forced to watch Gettsyburg in which he plays the walrus-mustached Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain. Anyway, the beginning of the movie does a great job of showing us what it might be like to live with a head injury. Chris has serious short-term memory problems, he sometimes has trouble censoring himself, he gets angry and frustrated easily--especially when he remembers what a charmed life he used to lead before the accident. He spends his evenings working as a janitor at a rural bank, where he has to write down all of his tasks for the day or he'll forget to do them. He becomes easy prey for sexy conman Gary Spargo (Matthew Goode), who gets a hot chick to sleep with him and pretends to be his friend. But what Gary and his sketchy pals want is for him to be their inside man when they rob the bank Chris works at. Chris is pretty easily convinced to help them, but on the night of the robbery, he tries to back out. BAD IDEA. Super-scary-silent Bone has got a shotgun and Chris is going to be their lookout and help them with this robbery, dammit. The movie does a great job of building up to this point. It seems obvious that Gary is a sleaze, and there's something weird going on with the girl (who has no real defining characteristics to talk about, she's just hot and played by Isla Fisher), Chris' rich family is shitty and unsupportive, and Gary does a great job of manipulating his guilt and frustration with his mantra "Whoever has the money has the power." Chris writes this down in his little reminder notebook. Now I will list some other good things: 1. Joseph Gordon Levitt = adorable and awesome. He does "desperate" really well, but not over the top. 2. I liked how Chris' tricky memory worked both for and against him. With the note-writing (to himself), the final long action-y sequence reminded me a bit of watching Memento. 3. Jeff Daniels in sunglasses, telling it like it is, swearing up a storm, and having a pretty good beard earns this movie, like, 45 extra points. 4. Despite the fact that you knew that they'd never pull off the bank heist and Chris was surely screwed by becoming involved, the plot never gave itself up. There were still even surprises to keep the suspense going until the end. 5. SPOILER ALERT: Chris and Lewis open up a sandwich shop called "Lew's Your Lunch." It amused me.

Think you can't drink straight liquor? You haven't tried this.

Ordering some sort of classy liquor on the rocks is one of my favorite things to do at a bar. I mean, I like the drinking the classy liquor part too, but there's kind of a badass feeling I get from saying "fuck you, mixers!" and just going for the gusto. (Is that, like, a thing that people say? Whatever, who cares.) This whole "drinking straight liquor" habit is also a great way to build up the ol' tolerance. After perhaps some unfortunate missteps. But seriously, say goodbye to your lightweight days, boys and girls, and say hello to spending way too much money on booze.

FIRST STEP TOWARDS ENHANCING YOUR FUNCTIONAL ALCOHOLISM AND LITERALLY DRINKING ALL YOUR MONEY AWAY:

Delicious, delicious Ketel One Citroen. Some people think flavored vodkas are girly. To this I respond:
a) If by "girly" you mean "inferior," then STFU you misogynist asshole.
b) I. am. a. girl. Again, not an insult.
c) It's too bad macho manly men have to spend all their precious drinking time on things that don't actually taste good, because I'll take another umbrella in that drink, thank you very much!

But anyway, as far as the top shelf-ish vodkas go, I definitely recommend regular Ketel One as pretty damn good for the price, only to be surpassed by the only good thing to ever come out of Iceland: Reyka.* It's like water, it's so smooth. But even better than water is CANDY. And this is what Ketel One Citroen tastes like. Fucking vodka candy. I like to order the ice on the side sometimes, so I can add it slowly and keep the booze cold without it getting too watered down, which would be a shame because it is DELICIOUS.** Sure, you could throw it in some cocktails and it would taste really good, but I recommend it on its own. Seriously: if you don't think you can drink liquor straight or even on the rocks, give this motherfucker a chance. Your tongue and your liver will thank you.


*Don't even fucking get me started on Grey Goose. Overrated, overpriced.

**Also highly recommended for this: Rangpur, AKA gin candy.

Things on the street

SPOTTED: one strawberry and one banana wearing a bathrobe, holding hands and skipping down the sidewalk. Kind of totally adorable Apparently it is "free small smoothie day" at Jamba Juice.

Quote o' the Day: How many times can I make a "cold, dead hands" joke before it stops being funny? Edition

He was a Great American, in the tradition of loud-mouthed political assholes who make generous use of our freedoms to say what the fuck we want, and I don't imagine it will come as a surprise to anyone who's spent any amount of time hanging around this juke joint that I found him pretty diggable for it, even as I daydreamed about kicking him in the junk. Metaphorically, natch. I mean, the guy had lots of guns.

-Melissa McEwan at my favoritest blog Shakesville on Charlton Heston

Confession: I love being Rick Roll'd

Look at that passion. And those teeth (British).

I'm totes singing this (again) next time I karaoke.

Nerdy nerd nerd nerdery/blogging

So I use Google Analytics to track my traffic, etc. Because I am a huge dork and I'm interested. If I'm going to be a world-famous blogger, it's important to pay attention to these sorts of things. In fact, did you know, that I had FIFTY unique visitors on March 26?! Probably only like three of those are me on different computers. Apparently, my page comes up under "Al Franken" Google searches, and people are willing to dig through like 8235687687 pages of results to get to me! But anyway, I'm actually getting to a point where some random/awesome keyword searches have been used to find my blog, and I'm going to post a few favorites: -"gloria estefan favorite color" -"hillary clinton favorite cocktail" -"jel pak" (?!?!?!) -"president polk hairstyle" -"badass words that start with a k" -"'facial hair' stereotypes" -"pluggers stupid" Oh, dear Googlers, I hope you found everything you dreamed of. I can only aspire to be the result of increasingly more ridiculous searches. Hooray for the magic of the internet! God I love blogging about blogging.

The Comics Page: Reinforcing Gender Stereotypes One Strip at a Time

I've been wanting to address this issue vis-a-vis the horrible daily comic The Pajama Diaries by Terri Libenson for quite some time. It's printed daily in The Pioneer Press, and I love to hate it much like I love to hate Pluggers. Except with less enjoyment and more exasperation. The Pajama Diaries is ostensibly about a freelance graphic artist/mother who is married and has a couple of kids. Most days' subject matter can be summed up as "being a working mom is crazy busy!" And though we have this main character who is a "working mom," the strip is rife with gender stereotypes. I feel like once a week there's at least one strip that makes me want to claw my eyes out. Wait, no. My reaction is never quite that strong, because it's not full of, like, shockingly insulting stereotypes, just stupid, unsurprising, Cathy-worthy examples of "women are like this but men are like THIS." And maybe these are true to Terri Libenson's personal family life ("Jill" is obviously a very thinly veiled version of herself), but it doesn't make it any funnier. A strip that can be summarized as, "I have way too much laundry to do, and sometimes my husband tries to help, but his penis prevents him from doing it in the correct (anal retentive) fashion," just strikes me as lazy storytelling. And sometimes I have to write graffiti on the comics page or harangue one of my roommates with cries of, "Why doesn't she just let him wash some goddamn clothes? If he doesn't do it "right," who cares? You don't get to complain about too much housework if you refuse to let him help!"

A certain amount of the "humor" in this strip is never going to appeal to me ("Kids sure do/say the darnedest things!" The Family Circus has this crappy market cornered.), though I basically find it inoffensive. What I do get peeved about, however, and I say this as someone who has never used the word "peeve" sans "pet" in spoken or written language before, is the constant reinforcement of lame gendered expectations. MAN LIKE SEX, SPORTS, BEER; KIDS AND CHORES CONFUSING. WOMAN TOO BUSY AND TIRED FOR SEX, OVER-EMOTIONAL, HAS NO OTHER INTERESTS BESIDES HUSBAND AND CHILDREN (despite token nods towards her career). I was particularly horrified this past month when Libenson had the husband, "Rob," take over the narration for a couple of weeks. You can only get a few days' worth of The Pajama Diaries online (probably for the best), and they finally put up the first, most blandly offensive in this series:

Oh, chicks and their feelings and whatnot! Rob is totally failing at the Manly Olympics. No medal stand for him.

But besides my simmering (not boiling, I don't care quite that much) rage for The Pajama Diaries, yesterday brought me the horrifying reality of crappy gender dynamics in For Better or For Worse. A universally either beloved or despised comic, the recent "flashback" strips have been even more heinous than the regular "present-day" bullshit. I almost gagged when I saw this on the newspaper page:


Oh, kids and their adorable malapropisms that can be interpreted as passive-aggressive swipes at the feminist movement! But besides this one stupid joke, I hate the way that gender expectations are played out in popular depictions of parenting. Often, it seems as though we're still stuck in the "Dad's baby-sitting tonight" phase (as if someone can "baby-sit" their own children) of talking about parenting. Now, I realize that we're still at a point as a society where women are the default caregivers and are much more likely to take time away from the working world to raise children. Obviously, there's nothing wrong with moms being moms, but I wish this were a choice that could be more freely made. American corporate culture certainly doesn't help--an ideal option for many families might be two part-time working parents who equally share childrearing duties. Without the pressures of patriarchy, I wonder what the home/childrearing workloads would look like. Certainly, the stupid "Mr. Mom" jokes would disappear, boys would be encouraged as children to be caregivers, more families would have more choices about when/if/how to have and raise children, and we would all recognize that dads aren't "filling in" when they parent. Once you get past the obvious gestation/childbirth/breastfeeding phase, caregiving is a gender-neutral act. Genitalia doesn't prevent anyone from learning how to change a diaper, help with homework, make a doctor's appointment, play Candyland again, etc. Perhaps I need to do a more extended fatherhood post soon.

But anyway, fuck the comics and their holdout gender binary propaganda. That is all.

WANT.

I don't care if my body hates piercings and does everything in its power to reject them, I'm getting one of these soon. Fuck the immune system!

Teddy Roosevelt: America's Most Cartoonish President to Date

I think a regular Thursday (or whatever day I feel like) U.S. history blogging feature has become necessary after the popularity of last week's ode to James K. Polk.

Seriously, we carved this guy's face into a mountain? He looks like a jolly walrus.

Theodore "Teddy" Roosevelt, Jr. really liked wars. He was the (Assistant, but pretty much acting) Secretary of the Navy leading up to the Spanish-American War, and was like, "Yeah, let's go fight those motherfuckers in Cuba. Let's get a bunch of ships and shit." Also, the media was totally agitating for a war. Newsies*-era newspaper barons Pulitzer and Hearst were cultivating what came to be known as "Yellow journalism," but back then it wasn't considered a racist term.** But as soon as war was declared, Teddy (or "TR," as lazy people call him) was not content to just sit behind his desk at the Department of the Navy (or whatever). Nope, he rounded up a bunch of rich friends and cowboys and the like and formed the "Rough Riders" cavalry. Have you ever thought about fighting a war on horseback? What if you fell off your horse and you got trampled? Or your horse got shot, and it landed on you? And even if it didn't land on you, then you'd be screwed, because all your fellow cavalrypersons would be able to ride off really fast, and you'd have to try and catch up to them on foot. I'm pretty sure even Teddy Roosevelt couldn't run as fast as most horses.*** Though it turns out only Teddy had a horse. I was wondering how they got all those horses to Cuba. But anyway, Teddy loved killing Spaniards. Also, he liked hunting animals. So basically, he liked shooting living things. Much like Dick Cheney. But more adorable. By the way: drawing or photograph? So hard to tell with him.

After the war and becoming the governor of New York, the Tedster was nominated as William McKinley's second-term VP. Apparently McKinley's first No. 2 sucked a lot, and I am too lazy to look up who he even was, because we'd probably have never heard of him anyway. Well, McKinley got assassinated by a crazy son of a Pollack**** and TR became one of our nation's most ridiculous presidents. I will now list some of his accomplishments:

1. He was a trust-buster. AKA not friends with the day's Halliburtons: Carnegie, Rockefeller, etc.

2. Because he like camping and hunting and whatnot so much, he thought we should maybe not cover the entire continent with railroads and steel factories. He established the U.S. Forest Service, and even got his own motherfucking National Park. Too bad it's in South Dakota.

3. He spearheaded that whole "let's build a canal in Panama so we don't have to sail around the southern tip of South America anymore" thing. Too bad we give it back to those crazy Panamaniacs.

4. HE HAD HIS OWN COROLLARY. Every ambitious woman or man should make it a priority to coroll-ize someone else's doctrine. I'm aiming for the Heaven's Gate Cult. But mostly Teddy was like, "Yeah, Monroe wanted to keep Europe out of our Western Hemisphere business, but now these Latin American countries, like, need money. Ummm... well only WE can interfere in their business because we live on this side of the Atlantic. Also, shut up or I will hit you with my big stick." Thanks for making intervention part of the Doctrine, pal! Who doesn't love the subsequent awesomeness of Iran-Contra, the embargo on Cuba, the War on Drugs, NAFTA, CAFTA, and any number of CIA-backed coups and assassinations? Seriously, who? But this is not his greatest legacy. Nope, that belongs to:

5. Teddy bears. 'Nuff said.

Unfortunately, after some safariing and Latin travels, Teddy really jumped the shark with that whole, "I'm pissed at the Republican Party and at my fatty fat successor Taft, so I'm going to form my own Bull Moose Party because it's a manly name, split the party, and hand over the 1912 election to Woodrow Wilson." He spent the rest of his life enjoying his poached elephant ivory and loudly criticizing public policy from his malarial bed. And that is all you need to know about Teddy Roosevelt.


*Did you know that "Governor Teddy Roosevelt" makes an appearance in Newsies? Oh, well you probably don't know all the words to "King of New York," either. Not that I do. Ehhh....

**This is a joke. Sorry. Racism has never been funny. And neither has sensationalism, the term "muck-racking," or tabloid magazines. Unless Bat Boy and/or Lindsay Lohan is on the cover.

***Though he is known as "the Roosevelt who's not a cripple."

****Is this slur out of the "offensive" realm and into the "ironic and HILARIOUS" usage realm yet? Whatever.

Latest ANTM fantasy lineup

JUSTIFICATIONS: I got bored with Fatima, and Claire really let me down with her photo shoot last week. Although, she did not let me down with her bitchiness. I'm hoping Dominique will continue to be an asshole, though not get eliminated despite looking like a man. Crazy Anya won that challenge last week, and despite her unplaceable accent and albino-looks, she seems to be doing really well. Also, the judges really like Whitney, and this is probably the best chance a plus-size model has had to be in the top three, like, ever. She'll probably also yell at Dominique at least once this week, so I'm totally keeping her. I hope Tyra is at least half as crazy as she was last week. Rich of the fourfour made a fucking awesome video tribute this week: I fucking love this man and his love/hate for Tyra. And good god, if you're NOT reading Rich's recaps yet, your life is INCOMPLETE. In all seriousness.

Favorite Cocktails: The Not-Bone Crusher

Totally my new boyfriend.

So, some time last year, Whatshisname took me out for a classy dinner and I swear to god I ordered what was called a "Bone Crusher" cocktail. I memorized the ingredients and adapted it for home consumption. However, I just did a Google search for a real recipe, and discovered that what I thought was a Bone Crusher was really NOT a Bone Crusher. Perhaps it was the jP American Bistro variation. Unfortunately, their website does not include a cocktail menu, so I can't be sure that I haven't just hallucinated the memory. But anyway, I find it easiest to just do everything in equal proportions, so that's the recipe I've come up with:

The Not-Bone Crusher

1 part gin
1 part triple sec
1 part Chambord*
1 part lemon juice
1 part cranberry juice
ALL PARTS DELICIOUS

This is one of my favorite drinks not just because it's tasty (though you may actually want to hold back a bit on the Chambord if you're not big on raspberries, as it has quite a strong flavor), but because it contains THREE SHOTS. In other words, I can actually feel it.


*I've decided that a post devoted to Chambord is required in the near future. Look forward to it!

Squirrels are just rats with bushy tales

I hope those nuts were delicious, Fluffy, because you're being deported!
This image was actually taken from the Washington Dept. of Fish and Wildlife website.

I have this middle-aged coworker who we will call "Debbie." Debbie is a nice but lonely lady who loves animals. Debbie has taken it upon herself to look after all the squirrels on campus. Squirrels do not need looking after. They are not endangered in anyway, and yet every day, Debbie goes and feeds them on her lunch break. She names some of them. Apparently it's possible to tell them apart. One day last week, while I was reading in my cube during my extended lunch break,* I heard Debbie emerge from the stairs, breathing very heavily. She proceeded to inform another of our coworkers that there was a SQUIRREL WITH A BROKEN LEG and she needed to find a box so she could scoop it up and take it to the animal rehabilitation center. And if she didn't hurry, a dog might get it.

Ahem.

SQUIRRELS ARE JUST RATS WITH BUSHY TALES. They need no extra protection. You'd probably be doing the neighborhood habitat a favor by allowing a few of the bastards to get picked off by canine predators.

Now, I'm not really an "animal" person, so I kind of don't really get people who are really into them. I mean, I'm not down with raping the environment or abusing animals or anything, but I eat meat, I don't plan on ever owning pets, and acting as the main food supplier for a college campus' squirrel population strikes me as SAD AND PATHETIC. I learned to hate squirrels the old-fashioned way: I was taught to by my mother. My mother fucking hates squirrels more than anything else that lives on this earth.** As I've mentioned, my family's Mormon, and they're on the "grow your own food" and "have two years' food storage" train. Well, they try anyway. But so we always had a vegetable garden growing up. Blech to: weeding, picking raspberries, and snapping beans. We lived in a neighborhood with many tall old pine trees (Washington, used to be a forest, etc.) that were filled with a booming squirrel population. At some point they got out of control and started pulling the corn stalk sprouts completely out of the ground, stealing veggies before they were ripe, destroying flowerbeds, and just generally causing garden shenanigans. My mother snapped.

She tried little fences, they dug them up. She tried rat poison, they ignored it. She told my brothers she'd pay them $5 a head to kill them with their BB guns, and the BBs just bounced off their little skulls. So she got a trap. A HUMANE trap, calm down. She'd put in some delicious nuts or a morsel of corn to entice them, and then SNAP! they'd be trapped. Then she'd take them in the little trap across at least one freeway and preferably also a body of water so they couldn't find their way home, and then release them. There was a least one tragic death while my family went on vacation, but left the trap set up. My oldest brother, who was staying at home and having parties that my mother had advised the neighbors to call the police on, neglected to release the trapped squirrel and it died. We found the trap in the woodpile in our backyard. I felt pretty bad about that. My brother should have felt worse. Anyway, we caught and deported over 90 squirrels that first summer. Out of control. My parents continue to trap a few dozen every year. And if you ever happen to be at their house when my mom catches a squirrel climbing on one of her bird feeders, don't think she won't open the window and scream at it. I believe it is far more terrifying for bystanders than it is for the actual squirrel, because it doesn't usually work.



*By extended I mean, "I take however the hell long I want to before I go back to working."

**Except for maybe people who let their children dress poorly.