Last day of work, personal ramblings, and linkage

Fact: The Pretentious Ex-Boyfriend, the Perpetual Roommate, and I beat up an old printer of mine with a baseball bat that the PR had "borrowed" from the athletic department in front of the middle school across the street from our apartment one night. It was actually really hard to break pieces off of it, but we made up for it by playing "Damn It Feels Good to Be a Gangsta" on some tiny speakers. And then we properly disposed of the debris.

Hey kids,

So... this is my last day of work. At my grownup desk job where I occasionally do data entry but mostly just fuck around on the internet while being paid too much money. The last several months of blogging have been a godsend. Seriously. And maybe it has something to do with the fact that I went back on antidepressants right around the same time I got serious about the blog, but I'm just going to go ahead and give the interwebs some credit for keeping me from hating my job too much and letting it completely suck my soul away. But anyhow, I'm going "back to school," as they say. Which makes me feel kind of old. To be able to say that. But I am. Things are going to be a little crazy for the next month, so I highly doubt I'll be able to top July's 50 posts. Anyway, this weekend I'm going on a random trip to Chicago to visit A Certain Someone Who Has Requested to Never Be Mentioned on This Blog (CSWHRNBMTB) and the Perpetual Roommate. I'll be back late Monday probably, so don't cry if there are no posts. Then I will have a few days to get my shit together for the SCANDINAVIAN TOUR I'm taking with the Perpetual Roommate, after which I have to pack and move to Ohio. And start grad school. And pretend to know what I'm doing.

So here's some links to get you through the weekend. Don't miss me too much while I am off galivanting in my newly-unemployed state!

-Amanda posits the idea that if we're going to interpret the Bible and take Christian doctrine literally, it really looks like god is kind of an asshole. He's playing games, trying to keep the upper hand, making sure he's got control of the situation. Luckily The Sexy Gay Jesus is aware of his male privilege and doesn't abuse it. But then again, I'm not trying to date SGJesus, what with him being gay and all. And Jesus. God, who doesn't return your phone calls. (Pandagon)

-Rachel Sklar over at HuffPo's Eat the Press compiled a sweet set of clips showing how Jon Stewart and the Daily Show crew have been all over sleazy Ted Stevens and his craziness and corruption for ages. It's pretty great. Jon Stewart Knew Ted Stevens Was Up to No Good. (Huffington Post)

-Paul Campos has great take on the whole "OMG the kidz is too fat!" moral panic. Not only is it a manufactured "problem," but as always, the pharmaceutical industry is both the instigator and the benefactor. Check it out. The Real Drug War. (Lawyers, Guns and Money)

-Kieran Healy discusses how we deal with douchebags in public places. Like ones who cut in line and expect people's inclination to avoid conflict to outweigh their sense of fairness. I myself tend to go for the resentful passive-aggressive approach to assholes who stand in front of me at concerts when my friends and I were clearly here first, like, since before the opening band, and WHY IS YOUR BOYFRIEND SO GODDAMN TALL?! No I will not take a picture of you!* Anyway, it's interesting how angry those kinds of situations can get you; angrier than all of the great injustices in the world. Because it's immediate. It's blatant. And whatever it is, it's totally not worth them being a dick about it. Norm Enforcement Is Hard, But People Do It Anyway. (Crooked Timber)

-Over at Jezebel, SadieStein really gets to the heart of the "Pretty Girl" phenomenon. As in, some girls are "Pretty Girls," and some girls (who very well may be totally hot themselves) are "Smart Girls" and/or "Funny Girls." Some of us were a little awkward in junior high and spent our time trying to write the most morbid stories or wear the most random item of clothing taken from our parents' old '70s stash in the basement. But you know what, I had a lot of fun. And though I now recognize my inherent hotness, I'm glad I've got other shit going for me. I like to think about how I am an awesome internet blogger and about to be paid to be a graduate student and how the hottest/most popular girl in our seventh grade class married some guy from our hometown a couple of years ago, and they both work at her dad's restaurant chain. Not that I'm gloating. SMALL BUT RELATED TANGENT: I used to date someone who would constantly tell me how hot I was. That's nice, sure. But I definitely felt pressure to maintain it, you know? I'm pretty lazy, so I only took it so far, but if let yourself be valued for attractiveness like that, you start to invest yourself in it too much. And god knows I don't need to think about my appearance any more than I already do, which is too much. Anyway, I think Sadie's hit the nail on the head with her analysis: Pretty Is As Pretty Does: The Middle School Moment. (Jezebel)

My internet presence will be spotty for a bit, but I'll try and dig in when I get the chance. Happy August, everybody! And happy Lauren's Last Day of Work!



*False. I will. I will take a picture of you and your drunk friends, but I'll still be seething over your drunk, view-impairing ass while I do it.

Friday: Frigg's Day*

After a long day filled with an extraneous work lunch, the somewhat-unintentional burning of some personal bridges, and what I will admit was a half-assed Presidential post yesterday,** I was so ready to have some fun at our trivia night last night. Anne and I were so pleased that our trivia mentors/heroes, Chuck and Sean came out to play and didn't even berate us for stealing 75% of their format. Also, Anne made people do a relay race physical challenge for bonus points that I must say has been one of the more successful activities we've done. Favorite category of the night: Childhood Diseases. Anne wouldn't let me ask questions about leukemia, though, because apparently she thought that might be triggering for some people. That might be true if I were like, "This kind of cancer kills innocent little kids by attacking their adorable baby blood and bone marrow and they slowly waste away in a hospital bed while their peers enjoy playing outside, going to school with their friends, and not having terminal illnesses." But I totally wasn't going to write it like that. Oh, well. Used mumps instead. But enough about me,*** I've got some good links for this Friday. And none of them are about rape, so hooray! -One of my blogging heroes and comics critic extraordinaire, Joshua Fruhlinger, recently appeared as a contestant on the classic TV game show Jeopardy! I knew he was going to be on, so I ducked out a little early on Tuesday to try and catch some action, but I only got home in time to see the credits, and they kept focusing on the other guy, so I assumed (correctly) that he was the champion. Now Josh has given his many well-wishers an awesome and detailed account of his experience doing the show. A salute to enthusiastic nerdery! Also, he gets extra points for referencing a Weird Al song (see classic video below). I lost on Jeopardy. (The Comics Curmudgeon) -You know, in the past few years, I've become a bit of a Kathy Griffin fan. Maybe it's her "meanness," maybe it's her status as a gay icon, I don't know, but either she's getting funnier, or I'm getting better at appreciating bitchiness. Maybe both. Kathy G recently wrote an ode to Kathy Griffin and praised her for "keeping shit real." Seriously. Nobody knows how to mock the cool kids quite like Kathy Griffin. She's totally invited to sit at the nerdy overachiever/as-of-yet closeted gay boys' table in the lunch room where my friends and I sat.**** Dame of the Day: Kathy Griffin. (The G Spot) -So: Jezebel. I read it. I really do love it. I don't necessarily go there for the hardest-hitting, most in-depth feminist analysis of current events, but I do go there for their smart, sassy smackdowns of pop culture and snarky commentary on whatever they fucking feel like writing about that day. Anyway, a particular post by SadieStein caught my attention, as it was about Facebook. I have a Facebook problem. Obvs. Anyway, check out a funny look at Facebooked: The Art of Choosing a Picture. (Jezebel) Oh, and: X-FILES MOVIE TONIGHT, BITCHEZ! Can't wait. *Frigg, eventually associated with Venus. **Come on, though, did I really need to rehash all the antebellum politics? You guys know what happened, and if you don't, you can come over and read the appropriate chapters in the copy of The American Pageant I keep in my living room. Yes. I do. ***Haha. This is a blog. My blog. There's NEVER enough about me. That's why you read it, isn't it? Come on. ****This is a metaphorical table, because once I hit high school, I stopped eating in the cafeteria, and my friends and I left campus every day as soon as we were allowed to junior year. But you get what I'm saying, right?

Dear Abby: You kind of dropped the ball trying to help that nice fat lady

I guess nobody really wins this game, huh?

Don't get me wrong, my day feels incomplete if I don't read Dear Abby, the comics, and attempt the recycled NYT crossword puzzle in the Pioneer Press, but sometimes the Abb-ster really gets it wrong. On a lot of issues, she is refreshingly progressive, but once in a while I read her responses to letters and kind of want to cry. Like when she totally missed that a RAPE had been committed, or that column last year where she told that awesome rock-climbing chick to act more feminine and then maybe her guy friends would want to go out with her. Ka$h and I were so pissed off, we seriously discussed writing a response. But we probably got distracted playing the X-Files Drinking Game, and it never happened. Whatever. Yesterday's column certainly wasn't Abby's worst offense, but her response was certainly lacking. Here's the letter:

DEAR ABBY: Before her death, I promised my mother that I would not get fat like her. Now I'm finding it hard to keep that promise. Ever since we lost Mama, I have slowly gained a little each year. I have tried to lose, but all I do is look at food and I gain.

If this keeps up I'll become the size my mother was. Does that mean I failed her because I broke my promise? I feel so guilty. Please help me. -- JUST LIKE MY MAMA IN TEXAS

Dear Abby was pretty much just like, "Stop feeling guilty. Everybody gets fatter as they get older. But you should probably diet and exercise. Or maybe you have a binge eating disorder." I feel as though she could've been more helpful and/or affirming.

Let us break down all the things about this letter that are sad:

1. This lady's mom died. That sucks. Especially since it sounds like she wasn't very old.

2. There was obviously an unhealthy fixation on food and weight in this family for the mother to bring it up ON HER DEATHBED and force her daughter to promise not to get fat. Notice that there is no mention of the mother's weight being any sort of contributing factor to her ill health or death. Also, notice we have no clear idea of how "fat" is being defined in this woman's case.

3. Given that this poor woman is obviously fighting genetics by trying to stay thin, it's especially heartbreaking.

4. It seems as though the mother found a surefire way to guilt-trip from beyond the grave by extracting a promise whose fulfillment her daughter largely has no control over. I have to say that's not very nice.

JUST LIKE MY MAMA needs a big ol' dose of Fat Acceptance in her life. Please, JLMM, if you're out there reading this, a) you probably found me by Googling James K. Polk, and b) PLEASE go check out Shapely Prose. Seriously, that shit will change your life. I feel a little bit awkward talking about the whole Fat Acceptance thing since, well, I'm not really fat, and I feel like telling people who are fatter than me to accept their bodies makes me look like a self-righteous asshole. Sometimes I think that I'm not thin* enough, but then I remember that that is fucked up. I realize that since I fit most regular people's definition of "thin," I have never really experienced fat discrimination. But I do feel the pressure to be/stay skinny. I've never been super-obsessed, but I know I've still spent an unfortunate amount of time and energy hating my body. This is stupid. But we all do it. We're, like, required to do it, as women and girls. This doesn't make us stupid, but it does keep us from caring about more important shit.

Anecdotal section: My mother has been on a diet for as long as I can remember. As far as I know, she has never had an eating disorder and is basically healthy. BUT: she is a lifetime member of Weight Watchers, and that coupled with various scattered comments over the years makes it clear that she cares about her weight. And I know she cares about mine. She told me when I was about thirteen or fourteen (right when I stopped being a stick-thin kid and started thinking I was getting fat because my thighs were slightly thicker than rolling pins) that I would have a really big butt if I ever got fat. And though this may be an accurate observation, the fact remains that I remember to this day where we were (trying on clothes at an outlet store), and I immediately internalized the idea that my ass was big and damn, I better not get any fatter. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to blame my mom for some sort of nonexistent weight obsession, especially since I know we're all just reacting to outside pressure to conform to unattainable beauty standards. And I can thank The Sexy Gay Jesus that she would never be like JLMM's mom and try and make me feel like shit about a body type I inherited from her while on her deathbed.

BUT: I am still working on Fat Acceptance, even if my fat levels** are rather low. I mean, I know it's fucked up to enjoy the weight loss that comes as a side effect of my depression,*** but I do. So, what I'm saying is, Dear Abby, next time maybe you could direct people like JLMM towards something that can help them accept themselves for who they are, and learn to be healthy no matter their size, and to stop trying to live up to the ridiculous standards. The guilt has got to stop. Fat has no bearing on morality. Here, let me try:

Dear JLMM: STOP FEELING GUILTY. YOUR DEAD MOTHER IS DEAD. Your weight is nobody's business but your own, and mostly genetically determined anyway. YOU CAN GO AHEAD AND THANK YOUR DEAD MOTHER FOR THAT. I'm sorry for your loss, but she's gone and she shouldn't be able to make you feel bad about yourself anymore. Please learn to love yourself. And maybe admit that your mom kind of sucked.

Love and delicious baked goods and high-calorie fruity cocktails,
Lauren


BTW: My coworker just announced that she has 600 calories left for the day. That makes me sad.


*Or blonde! Obvs.

**Shut up, this is totally a scientific term.

***I've started calling the appetite suppression the "Depression Diet." Though Abby was right to mention disordered eating, especially since grief and depression does lead some people to overeat, though it doesn't sound like it applies in this case. It sounds like this woman's body is just doing what it's meant to do naturally, despite her mother's ridiculous dying wish.