Thursday, July 1, 2010

Daily Snark: I'll take that to-go

I'm interviewing for a job today. Basically it's the perfect job, my dream job. Although I've already accepted the Field Coordinator position, the Planned Parenthood still may want me for this long term, full time position in the Public Affairs department. Woot!

For those of you who have not ever visited Planned Parenthood's new campus, there is a surgical facility in the same building as the administrative offices. This means they do the abortions there. So there are the predictable protesters and giant dead baby signs out front, which is just so great.

I was sending myself good vibes that today would not be surgical day and that I might dodge the protesters...

shelley: here's hoping it's not surgical day at the PP today
cause i'm going for my interview for the other PP job and i won't be in a car to protect me from the crazy people

Kris: you are interviewing today?
for the fulltime?

shelley: yes

Kris: nice!!!
good luck

shelley: thanks
i feel pretty confident about it
as long as i'm not shot walking in
they won't shoot me though because they'll think that i'm aborting my baby
they'll try to talk me out of it

Kris: on the way out you could always tell them that you decided to keep it ... and then hold up a little "to-go" box

shelley: i am loling ridiculously

Kris: i am too and it's my own joke

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Daily Snark: How have we not thought of this already?

In 2010, there are a lot of things I can't believe we haven't figured out. Hover cars. Computers that perceive our thoughts as opposed to requiring us to type. Etc.

And apparently, removable uterii...

shelley: i think i want a hysterectomy
my sister got one


and the doctor said it was the worst uterus he'd ever seen

elective or because her uterus had issues?

shelley: it had issues

Mari: uteri are terrible
we should get removable ones

fuck yeah

that we can keep in a safe place
and then stick them up there when/if we want to store a fetus in them

sounds good to me
i have a better idea
let's just grow fetuses outside
like in jars or something
and while we're at it, can we grow fetuses that are potty trained?

oh yeah

Mari: wouldn't that be fabulous
they would be like cabbage patch kids

shelley: but less ugly, hopefully

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Daily Snark: Why do people want to be ugly?

Kids today, I don't understand their fashion. It's like they want to be ugly. Matted hair, the ripped pants, mismatched suits with ugly ass bow ties...the 80's were bad in the 80's and they are still bad today. So when I saw a woman sporting what I thought to be terrible fashion this morning on the bus, I had to wonder if she is just clueless or if I am the one who's out of the loop. Naturally, I consulted with Kris, and the result is more Daily Snark gold...

shelley: i have this new intern and she is so cute. she has the hipster bangs and the big ugly glasses
i usually find that kind of thing hideous but on her it's so adorable
Kris: some of them are super cute. kinda like the dogs with the smashed in face
shelley: yes. i did see a woman with her ponytail held in place by a very large barette the way we used to do in the early 90s
and i was silently judging her until i wondered if that was popular again and i am the one who is square
Kris: god i hope the 90s are back
the 80s need to piss off
shelley: sure,but big barettes should not come back
Kris: what if they had fake birds or large flowers on them
shelley: that's already back
large flowers anyway
shelley: i saw some employee at home depot wearing a barette with a giant flower yesterday
she seemed out of place
Kris: okay well what if they had seaweed covered in oil?
shelley:how about if they had fake birds covered in oil?
Kris: love it

Too soon?

Anyway, it's not like I care that much if I'm the only square that doesn't embrace big barettes or whatever other awful trend happens. If being ugly is right, I DEFINITELY want to be wrong.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

New Feature: Daily Snark!

Sometimes IM conversations are just too good to keep to yourself, so I decided to share! It might not be daily and it might not always be snark but I promise you'll love it anyway. Enjoy!

In today's installment, thoughts on sneaker culture, whatever that is.

me: i think matt just got porn in the mail or something
it's this magazine and there's all these half naked chicks on the cover surrounding this really hip-ugly dude
russel brand?
Kris: it's proly a jc penny catalogue
me: the magazine is called Complex
it looks pretty useless
Kris: Complex is a metropolitan men's style/lifestyle magazine founded by Marc Ecko in 2002. The publication offers mainstream readers insight into the latest trends in urban America's niche cultures, such as streetwear, sneaker culture, hip hop, and graphic art. Complex targets men that are college-aged to early 30s in urban areas.
The "magazine" is essentially a compilation of advertisements aimed at a target market of 20-35 year old males. It can arrive without solicitation in one's mailbox, but the company is quite understanding about the environmental impact and will cancel a "subscription" if requested.
me: sneaker culture?
Kris: oh yeah that's actually really big right now
me: i weep for the future
Kris: well sneaker culture has been big since like hip hop started
me: was it called "sneaker culture" though
cause that's sadness
Kris: haha, no but they did were oversized shoes, kinda like how anime characters are now, to accentuate the "larger-than-life" visage of hiphop
i learned that in my pop culture class
me: very impressive
Kris: now the sneaker culture is just an echo though, like all other fashions right now, rip off of 80s high tops, vinyl, and neon
me: yeah wtf is up with neon
i told matt it is just a matter of time until those safety pin bracelets come back
Kris: it's hideous and really needs to go away already. it's been around for like 5 years
me: vomit
Kris: i admit, I have a shirt I bought like 4 years ago that's totally neon red/orange
but it has a dot design of a woman in s&M gear with her nipple showing blowing the smoke off a gun
me: well nipple never goes out of style
Kris: thank you!!
Kris's new status message - nipple never goes out of style 11:23 AM

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Old Navy, my frenemy

There are a set of things that females experience in life that are pretty common threads -- in my generation eating disorders and body image issues were second only to mean girls and catty, passive aggressive competition disguised as friendship on the scale of things that fucked us up. (Ok, maybe these come after divorce, alcoholic parents, and unrealistic expectations thanks to romantic comedies...but whatever, they're up near the top).

Somehow, though, I managed to make it through life without having these problems. I was always fairly happy with my body (or rather I didn't really think about it too much) and pretty much always felt free to eat whatever I wanted. I never really put too much thought into it. Until now...

I have now experienced another common experience -- I've reached the age where I can no longer just do whatever I want and be "thin" and "beautiful". As such I've put on about 20 lbs. over the last 3 years or so. Still, this didn't bother me that much until last weekend, when I went to the Old Navy to try on bathing suits.

This was a mistake for many reasons.

1. Old Navy DOES NOT make bathing suits for people approaching 30. They just don't. What they DO is make bathing suits for 14 year olds in bigger sizes as though doing so somehow magically makes these monstrosities age-appropriate and/or figure flattering in some way.

2. The lighting in the fitting rooms...this is not unique to Old Navy, it's everywhere. But something about the combination of glaring fluorescent overhead lighting and a pop-punk remake of You're Just Too Good To Be True made my back fat look even lumpier.

3. A woman shouting into a bullhorn about $10 bathing suits. Nuff said.

To make matters worse, I asked Matt to come back to the fitting room so I could show him the bathing suits. Now, right off the bat let me say that I never set foot out of that fitting room in a bathing suit. Because for some reason I was not willing to allow the person who regularly sees me naked to see me in one of these uber-flammable, ill-fitting sausage casings. I guess maybe this is because when I'm naked we're either about to or just have had sex and things like lumpy thighs and belly fat matter less.

Sidebar here, Matt is training for a marathon. He's not in spectacular shape (yet) but he's burning something insane like 800 calories a day doing all this running, so I figure it's only a matter of time until he's like, super man.

Given these factors, I decided it's about time I get my increasingly fat ass in gear and at least make an effort. So I started dabbling in some Comcast On-Demand workout videos. My favorite was Goddess Cardio Bellydance, in which the woman running the video would say ridiculous things such as the following:

"Just think of all the boring things people around the world are doing right now. And you decided to spend your time doing this."


"The next time you have an argument, like over a parking space, try doing the shimmy and see how the conversation goes."

But this and yoga was not cutting it, so I stepped it up and started the "10 Pound Slimdown" plan. Basically, this woman has created a calendar and 5 20 minute workouts. She's mapped out which workouts you should do on which day and promises that I will lose 10 pounds in 8 weeks if I do this.

I actually really like the workouts because they are hard but not so hard that I have to look at the television and say, "Bitch, you have got to be kidding me." or shout "No I fucking can't!" when she says "You can do it!"

I also like the structure of the calendar. I need some accountability in this project. Which made me think...surely there's some kind of fancy internet tool that will help me manage my food intake vs. my exercise and tell me if I'm basically in the right area.

Sure as shit, there are many such tools! I've latched on to one known as The Daily Plate, and I will say that it is very handy. Basically, you put everything that you eat into it, and all the physical activity that you do, and it helps you balance this all out and see how you're doing -- not just on calories but other things like sugars, cholesterol, all that shit.

Super cool, right? Shya! Except for...I've already spent the first two hours of my day entering food and exercise and calculating calories and basically geeking out over the chart and spreadsheet options. I am comforted by the neat and orderly nature my eating and exercise has taken, and the level of control this allows me to have over it all. And if you think that sounds dangerously close to an eating disorder, don't think that thought hasn't crossed my mind.

But wait, there's more! This particular website has a social networking component (how novel!) in which you can become "friends" with other users and do things like Share your food and exercise log on Facebook and Like other people's food and exercise logs. For a generation of people who grew up on Alicia Silverstone's Cher ("I had 5 peanut butter M&M's and I feel like such a heifer") how can this be good? I see the honorable intent of this (supportive environment, encouragement, etc.) but I can't imagine the "helpful" and "encouraging" comments that must come from the "friends" that one makes on this site.

Friend-making is another minefield of the female experience (evidence: the creation of the term "frienemy") to say nothing of the actual level of "friend-ness" that is even possible with social networking friends. So, thanks a lot, Daily Plate, but I'll take my computer or my Nintendo Wii judging me over strangers online any day.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Great Depression is the new black

So today I conquered many things. I put together a storage cabinet with a lock and faulty instructions while my supposed partner in crime sat and watched, claiming that he is "useless" (which I frankly don't doubt to be true) at putting things together. After many hours and about 4-5 tears, I made Mail Merge my bitch and printed not only labels but fancy personalized letters on Progressive Future letter head. And I found out, to my surprise, that the proposal for my big, ginormous final masters project was required to be 7 pages, not the 2-3 that I thought it would be. I finished that proposal before I finished this bottle of fabulous Pinot Noir (I've become a real wino these days).

None of this, however, compares to the utter triumph I experienced last Friday. I took the day off from work, you see, to recover from the minor nervous breakdown I was experiencing on account of everyone's needs that I have to meet in addition to a final Human Resources and Volunteer Management paper due the night before. I thought this was a good opportunity to take care of some things around the house, such as the vaccum cleaner (sidebar...I have trouble spelling vaccum. I am going to experiment with some spellings here and see which one suits me.)

So my vacum (see how I spelled it differently that time?) had been exhibiting some very strange behavior. In fact, it seemed to be doing the opposite of what I wanted it to be doing. Usually, you want a vaccuum (oh shit, is that the correct spelling?) to suck; however, mine seemed to be actually dispelling dust onto the carpet rather than sucking it up.

Some background on my vaccum (or is that correct? neither one is showing up with the squiggly red "you spelled this wrong, asshole" line). I purchased it at the local Wal-Mart for $28, which I felt was a steal for a vacuum, and a pink one at that. It wasn't even one of those gay "We're pink because we support breast cancer" products. This vaccuum is just pink because it wants to be pink.

So anyway, my $28 pink Wal-Mart vacum was malfunctioning. I took off all the filters and washed them to no avail. I was really feeling like I was going to have to make a repeat visit to the Wal-Mart to replace my pink vaccumm. I mean, I'd only paid $28 for it. I wasn't going to take it in to have it repaired, and even if I wanted to, like there are any vaccum repairmen anymore. (Or repair women for that matter.) And it wasn't like I was about to take the time to...wait a minute! I can repair this vacum myself!

I wish I would have photograhically documented the stuff that came out of my vaccumm when I took it apart. It was pretty intense. There was a lot of confetti (circa New Years Eve, courtesy of Wes Morgan.) Dog hair was abundant. I had to stick a broom handle down the hose to get a big clog out of there. Disgusting.

But it got me thinking about consumerism. I mean, I took like 15 whole minutes to do that. I could have been doing many other thing with that time -- baking brownies, walking my dog, looking at my vagina in a mirror. But I spent 15 valuable minutes of my vacation cleaning out my vacum cleaner. Instead of throwing it away and buying a new one, I took the time to google the users manual for this vacum (thank god for the internets!) and taking this vacum apart. I feel superior to most people in that I don't think they would bother to do that.

So good for me, I fixed my own vacuum. Women's lib, all that. But what about the poor vacum cleaner repair man? Now that I'm all empowered to fix my own pink vacuum that I only paid $28 for, what happens to him? He fucks right off, I guess. Because $28 is a small price to pay to feel powerful and accomplished enough to have fixed my own vacuum.

I didn't throw out my vacuum, and I'm so happy. Because $28 feels like a million bucks to me now that I have invested in this bonding experience with my vacuum. We're tight.

BTW, I like the looks of two u's together, as in vacuum. So I've decided to spell vacuum that way. Yay.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Mini pizzas make me simultaneously happy and depressed

Today I asked my friend to drive me to the bookstore because I'm having the panic about the 25 source bibliography I have to have turned in on Thursday for my final Masters paper. I figured that Barnes and Noble surely had the answers to all my problems. Sidebar -- I walked out of the B&N with one book pertinent to my paper topic and one called "The Cultural History of the Penis." How's a girl supposed to pass that up?

Anyway, after we left I said, "Oh, oh! Can we go to the 7-11? I need a frozen pizza for dinner."

She looked at me in this way that actually indicated pity. My friend who, let's be clear, I've bailed out of some tragic situations is pitying me because I buy my frozen pizzas at 7-11. She says, " you want to go to an actual grocery store for frozen pizza?"

Now, before I go any further, allow me to say that I pretty much love my life. I couldn't ask for a much better set up than what I have now. But there are a set of things that, no matter how great my life is, always make me feel like I am bordering on Stuart-Smalley-I'm-going-to-die-homeless-and-penniless-and-nobody-will-ever-love-me status. One is grocery shopping alone. The other is eating frozen pizza.

So we get to the King Sooper and I get unreasonably excited about a fabulous product called Digorno for One. It's just like what it sounds like -- a Digorno pepperoni pizza for one person. But just when I thought it couldn't get any better...4 for $10. I went ahead and got 4 because, you know, they're nice to have around the house.

It reminded me of an idea that's been rolling around in my head ever since I discovered my wages are being garnished by the State of Colorado (that's an unrelated story, though). I really think it's about time that we started an advocacy organization for single people. Think about much food have you wasted because all food comes in portions for a family of 4? Or at a minimum 2. And...where the hell is my "Hey, thanks for not popping out a kid and contributing to global warming and overpopulation and global food shortages, not to mention just generally fucking the kid up and adding to this world's dysfunction" tax credit? Am I right?

What we need are fair tax policies. Protection for single workers so that they're personal lives and time are valued just as much as married people with kids. FMLA to apply to sick pets. I feel like we could get the cat lady demographic with that plank of the platform alone.

So are you with me on the issue? If so, the best way to get involved is to make a donation of $25 today...

Coming soon to a blog near you, posts on the political acuity of 18 year old stoners and the cultural implications of vacum repair.