If You Were Heading to Los Angeles

What would you do there? If you had three free days. And a rental car. If you were me. Who burns easily. And does not drink. And probably can't get into any club where you have to look cool. And has a tendency to do inappropriate things like laugh at people who say, "Don't you know who I am?!" Yet digs people watching. And irony.

It's not definite. But it almost is. Really almost positive. I'll know for sure this week.

And, if anyone knew anyone whose uncle's friend's coworker's gay roommate's cousin worked at a television studio and wanted to give me an unofficial tour to show me the stuff regular tourists don't get to see, I'd LOVE to be hooked up. I'll even bring you some ummm.... unique-to-SF-stuff, once I figure out what that is.

Sometimes I Feel Stupid

But then I see things like this, and that feeling goes away.

Potential Fraud

Stick with me here. I know you read the title and your eyes glazed over, sure that I'm either going to talk about something boring or try to sell you something. Well, you're partially right - I want to sell you knowledge, but I think it's so important for you to have that instead of selling it, I'm giving it away for free.

About a week ago I got a two-page letter in the mail from Estate Trust Asset Recovery. It's a company I'd never heard of before. Immediately, I was suspicious. They have my current address in SF, as well as the address where I'd lived in Florida. The letter is a refund notice, saying Progressive, which I did have car insurance with years ago, owes me $405. And if I'll just send a copy of my driver's license along with providing the last four digits of my social security number, they'll send me $356.50, taking out $48.50 as their processing fee.

Hey, I'm out of work. Money sounds good to me these days. I can't figure out why on earth Progressive would owe me money, since I sold my car only a few days before my car insurance policy expired though...

And I was totally prepared to go claim my money up until I noticed where, on the second page, I'm asked for the last four digits of my social security number. You may think it's nothing, because what can they do without the entire SS#? However.

At least twenty years ago, the Yogurt Family was on vacation in New Hampshire with family friends. The adults were sitting on couches and chairs while the kids were on the floor playing. The other dad was talking about fraud, and he said that it's really easy to con people. He gave the example that if you tell someone the first three numbers of their social security number, they'll probably tell you the rest of it. Even though surely millions of people must have the same first three numbers. I don't know how I managed to remember that, but it stuck with me.

I'm one of those people who should follow their gut. My gut always protects me. Sometimes I put in more effort than I needed to, but I'd rather do that than not put in the effort when I should and have problems. Listen to your gut, people. The gift of fear really IS a gift.

The refund notice I got doesn't list any portion of my social security number. But I'm really careful about who I give any of it out to. So I did what any smart consumer would do. I called my daddy. Who suggested I call the Attorney General's Office in Florida. Which I did.

I spoke with a very nice woman named Samantha, explaining I wanted to check on the legitimacy of a refund notice. Samantha told me, in her deep Southern accent, that she'd already gotten 11 calls regarding this company. That if I wanted to know if I was truly owed any money, I should look at FLTreasureHunt.org. Which I did.

And I came to this page. Hmm. I looked at this page too. It's looking more and more like I am not owed any money. When moving West, I did not call Progressive to cancel my policy with them, knowing that it was only a few days. So they should not owe me money.

But I decided to call Progressive. Just in case. Because what I used to do was, each time my insurance policy was about to expire, I'd shop around to see where I could get the lowest rate. I switched between Progressive and Allstate multiple times. In speaking with Dara at Progressive, I was told that in 2001 (years before I sold my car to move to SF), I did cancel a policy with them after only two months and they DID try to refund me $405. I asked Nina how it is that they tried and failed, since I was living at the same address for four years. And that's how it is that I'm now on hold while Dara is researching the answer to that question with her accounting department.

My goal, now that I know I am in fact owed money, is to get all of it, as opposed to having a portion go to a company that handles refunding money. I'll let you know how that goes.

The State of Florida hires companies to handle refunds for them, and apparently they're allowed to take a percentage of the money owed. In looking at that Treasure Hunt page, I see that Estate Trust Asset Recovery is listed a company hired by the state. Thus, legitimate.

While on hold, Samantha called me back, and said I should pursue my money through the state, if not through Progressive directly. Dara said her accounting department needs to research this whole thing, since it's so old. She personally will call me back around the end of this week.

Obviously, since I was expecting nothing, $356.50 would be great, and I should be happy with that. However, if by simply making a few phone calls I can get almost $50 more, I'd like that. If I can't, then that's fine, and now that I see this is a real company. Though I can't help but wonder why Samantha said that she's gotten 11 complaints about Estate Trust...

Yeah, so I'm holding out for Dara. She's going to call me back by the end of the week, after having her accounting people research this.

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I blogged this all while making these phone calls and doing the research. You might say that since I found out everything is legitimate, I wasted my time. I disagree with that. If you've ever talked with anyone who's been a victim of identity theft, you'll agree with me that it's worth being careful to ensure you don't become another victim. It's worth spending an hour (and yes, I'd have spent this time even if I were working) to make sure you're not going to have to spend YEARS clearing up identity theft problems.

Also, I know the majority of my readers are from California. Here's the website for the CA Attorney General's Office. Don't get screwed over, people.

Whatcha Thinkin Bout?

Does everyone else think they're "done"? Like, you're as good as you'll get? That you're as open-minded as you need/want to be? That you know enough about a big enough variety of things for life?

My great-grandmother used to say you should learn something new every day. I can't say that I do, though yesterday I read three books and the day before I learned that I like bbq'd shrimp on sticks, but I definitely think I have many more miles to go before I sleep.

Thank goodness I have my world map shower curtain to help me along on my path to learning new things. Maybe after I've learned where everything is located, I'll move on to the periodic table of elements shower curtain. Who needs school when you have shower curtains?

Growing up, my mother was constantly telling me to look things up. I hated looking things up, so I avoided it whenever possible. Now I question multiple things on a daily basis.

Just yesterday, I questioned Trixie about those Aryian Nation people. There were some on the Tyra show saying they "don't mind" other races aside from white existing, but they should all go back to the countries they belong in. As in, Tyra should "go back to" Africa, even though she personally, was born in California.

Anyway, these white power people were talking about this in relation to inter-racial relationships, and saying God didn't intend for people to mix races. My question is, if God didn't intend that, then why did s/he allow people to be able to be attracted to other races? Why wouldn't God have created people to only be attracted to those in their own race?

Trixie had no answer. Today I'm questioning why my brand new power cord is not working very well. What are you questioning these days?

Listen to Firsts

For a variety of reasons, there are a lot of basic things most people have done that I haven't. One of those is going to concerts. Today I went to the last Stern Grove concert of the summer. True, when I was four years old I went with my parents to a Smothers Brothers concert, but I think we all know that doesn't count.

For those not in the know, Stern Grove is this huge wooded area (that reminded me of Usdan, complete with gigantic hills) where free concerts are held each Sunday in the summertime. Until an annoucement was made, I was not in the know that Stern Grove is 100% smoke free.

Last week Trixie and I had a talk about doing more fun things in the Bay Area. We have this talk about once a month. A couple of years ago I was determined to experience San Francisco more than I'd ever experienced South Florida. That holds true now too. We tossed around the idea of going to the Jelly Belly factory, but nixed it for Stern Grove.

The concert started at 2 p.m., and we arrived a little after 1 p.m., armed with an old sheet to sit on, magazines, and bottled water. Trixie also brought a sandwich, but I did not - she'd said something about a picnic, but the concept is so foreign to me, as I've only been on one picnic in the last twenty years, that I couldn't think of what was picnic food. Of course as we walked through the crowds of people and I saw what they'd brought, I understood about the food, but it was too late by then.

We set up "camp" near a log, and the girl sitting next to us had the same sneakers as me. We were on a steep incline, and there was loose sand all over, which prompted me to whisper to Trixie that I bet a lot of people would fall walking around. "I'll keep an eye out for ya," she replied.

I took a few pictures, read my magazines and listened to fancy yet free music. We traded food with the people sitting next to us (no Mom, I didn't eat food from strangers). We yelled to a volunteer to stop when a little girl was running after him with a dollar to donate. We did not get sunburns (yay for shade). Oh, and I was right about people falling - we held our hands out at least half a dozen times each to people walking in front of us who started to slide down the sandy hill.

SYTYCD: Holy Sunburn!

Do I know how to pick them, or what?!

Damn, Cat, way to not use sunscreen. For shame.

SYTYCD: Prediction

Sabra or Danny.

I have two issues with what Nigel said yesterday.

1. He said it would be nice if a girl one. No, no no no NO! I don't want a girl to win just because it's time that a girl won. I want a girl to win because she's the best dancer! Girls don't want token wins (at least, this girl doesn't)!

2. He also gave a little speech about keeping in mind that the winner should be someone who's shown a lot of growth. Look, you can go from being not able to stand at all, to someone who can push a piano two inches up a hill, and that's HUGE. But the person who got the piano to the top of the hill is the person who should win.

I disagree that people should vote for whoever has grown the most. The person who wins should be the person who is the best dancer of the four.

Personally, I hope Sabra wins.

SYTYCD: Clearing the Audience To Avoid Spoilers

I have been digging Sabra for a while now, and I'm glad she's a finalist. I've been hating Neil for a while now, and am bummed that he beat Pasha. Nigel said it well - Pasha seems like a gentleman. Neil seems like slime. Okay, Nigel didn't say that last one, just me.

Did anyone else notice that Cat didn't ask Pasha if he'd like to say a few words? Do you think it was an oversight or he told her when the cameras weren't rolling that he didn't want to?

Poor Pasha. I really hope to see him rise to greatness in spite of not winning, because I think he's capable of it.

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In other spoilage news, I really hated Hell's Kitchen when it first came out. In general, I dislike anything that involves screaming, and I'm sure old Gordo would say I'm an over-sensitive America, but ripping people to shreds emotionally is just not cool to me.

I never thought Bonnie should have made it to the final two. Should have been Jen. So I'm glad Rock beat her ass. Did you see that he kept pumping his team UP and she kept nagging hers? Her leadership skills were not impressive.

Welcome Back, Welcome Back, Welcome Back!

Growing up, one of the many rules Golden Boy and I had to adhere to was the no-playing-ball-in-the-house one. That's a hard rule for two active kids, especially kids whose mother made them ask permission to go outside in the backyard. And kids whose mother was a stickler for things like saying "Can I go to the park to play basketball? It's 4:15 now, and I'll come home by 4:30." We didn't have the kind of household where a kid runs out of the house yelling over their shoulder that they're going to the park, and it's understood they'll be home for dinner.

This didn't stop us from playing ball in the house all the time. Once, my parents went away on a business trip, only to return to find a broken back door. Whoops. Another time, my mom was in the front yard talking with a neighbor while Golden Boy and I played with a stuffed soccer ball in the upstairs hallway. Tons of fun, until I decided to turn around and throw my brother the ball, over my head. Because instead of throwing the ball out, I threw it up, directly into the hall light, which broke and came crashing down.

Trixie has just returned from a cross-country trip, helping her friend move from the Bay Area to D.C. for a job. It's so nice to have her back, and not only because she has geeky friends who fix things we're too girly to fix.

I loved having the place to myself for a week, if only to feel secure in knowing that when I got home I was home, and didn't still have to be on until I got safely into my bedroom. And don't get me wrong - Trixie is not a difficult person to talk with at all. It's just that sometimes, I don't have any talk left in me. Trixie's the type of person though, who will talk if someone's there to talk with (the mountain).

Trixie's mom picked her up at the airport yesterday, and then went back to her childhood home for lunch before coming here. When Trixie walked in the door struggling with bags, I jumped up to help, asking if she'd gone shopping. Trixie laughed.

See, my idea of going shopping is using Safeway, Whole Paycheck or Trader Joe's. Trixie's idea of going shopping is helping herself to whatever food in her parent's house looks good. She swears her parents don't mind. I swear her parents are good at picking out fruit.

Last night Trixie and I played catch in the living room, among vases and laptops and glass breakables, catching each other up on our respective weeks. We didn't break anything.

Frankly, I Give a Damn

Frank's got a new format. I love this, because it reminds me to love creativity.

SYTYCD: The Final Countdown

Sorry I'm late, peoples. Let's get started, sans links this time.

First of all, can we just take a moment for all the Fame jokes? And, how awesome would it be if there were a reality show that had Debbie Allen competing against Paula Abdul?

Pasha & Lacey - super cute schtick, and very solid dancing.
Pasha's solo - I think I have a crush on him.
Lacey's solo - the dancing was just eh, and I thought it was the wrong outfit for her.

Danny & Lauren - I loved their first performance as art, but didn't think it was impressive enough for a dance competition. Lauren was really cute, and they were very in synch.
Lauren's solo - surely it's wrong of me, but contemporary, especially for females, simply doesn't work for me at ALL.
Danny's solo - love that girly tank top he was wearing, and he was very obvious about his crush on Cat (whose dress I LOVED!).

Neil & Sabra - normally I love to hate Neil, but this was fucking awesome! They should win an award for Best Use of a Prop! If I were Mary, I'd do the scream for this routine, that's how much I loved it. I could have watched that first routine (which I think of as 'The Conference') for hours. By the way, were those leather pants Neil was wearing in the second performance?
Sabra's solo - totally solid, but again with the contemporary
Neil's solo - I dug it. Dude is definitely growing on me, though I don't think he should win.

I really hope Danny doesn't win just because of his extension.

Tag Bitch, Tag

Meeks tagged me, and since she was a recent inspiration, here I am, being all tagged and beautiful. Or something. Whatever.

The Rules: Each player lists 8* facts/habits about themselves. The game rules are posted at the beginning of the post. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment to let them know they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

* I will be listing 7 facts/habits. Not because 7 is my favorite number, but because I can’t come up with 8.

Between my 100’s lists, I can’t imagine I have 7 facts/habits about myself that I haven’t already told you, but let’s see what I can come up with.

1. For the last several months, I’ve been in the habit of checking out creative writing courses at local colleges. Haven't found anything that would be right for me yet. So I'm not signing up for them of course, but just looking at course descriptions to see what’s offered, how much it costs, etc. Anyone local want to take a night time writing class with me in the city?

2. When I was a teenager, one of the ways I could get my mom to let me borrow her car was to offer to go put gas in it. One afternoon, I was at the gas station and realized that due to my habit of locking the car doors, I’d just locked the keys inside the car. Whoops. So I asked the very nice man at the Hess station (who knew me by sight, because I was there so often, putting $6 of gas into my mom’s car two or three times a week) if I could use his phone to call home.

I called my mom, explained what happened, and asked her to come bring me the spare set of car keys. She wouldn’t do it. To be honest, I think I’d woken her up from an afternoon nap and she didn’t feel like getting dressed and driving that mile. But she didn’t say that. About 15 minutes after we hung up, our neighbor who lived two houses down the street from us pulled into the gas station. I knew her pretty well; I babysat for her kids a lot. She rolled down her window, handed me the spare set of keys, and laughingly called me an idiot. I smiled good-naturedly and thanked her for driving over, but I was hurt.

Adults shouldn’t call kids names. Even when they’re joking. Even when said kids are old enough to be driving. If I’m too young to curse in front of you, then it’s simply wrong for you to call me a name. Anyway, the moral of that store is, every time you take your keys out of the ignition, make SURE you’re holding them in your hands as you get out of the car. I rarely drive these days, what with not owning a car and all, but when I do, it’s a habit of mine to look at my hand and see the car keys in them before I get out of the car and lock the door.

3. Public transportation is great. I don’t use it because I’m doing my part to save the earth and cut down on pollution. I use it because I sold my car to pay for the move here from Florida, and despite all the times I get lost and call people crying to help me find my way home, it’s more convenient than owning a car. The saving the earth thing is just a bonus. But public transportation, despite how great it is, also happens to be filthy. The seat might look clean, but a homeless guy who slept in his own piss might have just sat there before you did. The silver pole looks clean, but the guy standing nearby just sneezed on it before you got on the bus. That’s why I’m in the habit of washing my hands as soon as I come home. I don’t walk around with Purell hand sanitizer, but that’s just because I hate the smell of it.

4. This one’s more factual than habitual: I have flowers on my sheets and teddy bears on my bed. Don’t panic – there are no doilies anywhere in my house. The two teddy bears were a Valentine’s Day gift – they’re the little kissing bears from Hallmark. The flower sheets? My excuse is that I got tired of my polka-dot sheets, and the flower sheets were my only other option. I know. But I promise you my bedroom is not all flowery and frilly. The one I grew up in was, and I hated it.

5. No matter what magazine it is, I always read the last page first. If I am ever in charge of putting out a magazine, the last page will be good stuff. I’ve noticed that I lose a tiny bit of respect for magazines that don’t have an interesting last page. The last page of a magazine can be a funny list, a short article, whatever. But it should be something interesting.

6. Since I was a little girl, it’s always taken me a long time to fall asleep. When I was younger, I found all sorts of ways to keep myself amused while waiting to fall asleep. What good is just being an understudy for one character in a play? Right, and that’s why I memorized every role in every play I performed in throughout elementary school. My poor dad probably went to bed himself with a sore throat many nights, from having to yell at me so often to stop singing every song from Fiddler on the Roof and Peter Pan. I also used to do the entire warm-up routine from my gymnastics class on my bed. Good times, good times. After I’d get a few of my nightly yelling-ats, I’d switch to a calmer activity. I would look at the clock, close my eyes for a while, then try to guess what time it was when I was bored. After a while (months? years?) I got pretty good at it.

I’m in the habit of always knowing what time it is. I look at the time approximately 9,583 times each day. I’m a light sleeper, and even if I just turn over in bed, that wakes me up. You know I look at the clock then. I look at the time each time I change activities. I have been known to do the following: look at the clock on my night table, realize I have to get out of the house to be on time somewhere, put on my watch (naturally I check the time on it), and then, while opening the front door, lean back to look at the time on the microwave oven before leaving the house. Okay, and yes, sometimes while waiting for the elevator I do check the time again on my cell phone.

7. 7 is my favorite number. And the song’s not bad either.

8. I’m in the habit of reading the following blogs, who should consider themselves tagged by the way:

- Wide Lawns - who I know will have interesting stuff to share
- The Daily Randi - Look Beyond the Capital Letters – Her Writing is Really Funny. Oh, and Always Click On the Pictures – Sometimes They’ll Take You to Funny Places
- Make Mine Mike - never mind his typing, griping and hyping, his writing is easy on the brain and he seems like such a nice boyfriend for Randi. One of the very few who probably could write about having toast for breakfast and actually could make it interesting
- Bad Beth & Beyond - I’m new to her blog, but am amused each time I read it
- [redacted] – I doubt Dan will do this, but I get so happy each time Bloglines tells me he’s got a new post that this wouldn’t be a proper list if I didn’t include him. Once you read his blog, you’ll wish he worked in your office, or lived next door to you
- Student Nurse Jack – one of the sweetest people I’ve never met
- Childbearing Hipster – like the Wide Lawns chick, I am also secure in her having interesting stuff to share. Some people have good, obscure facts about themselves that will make you like them even more than you already do. CH is one of those people. Plus, if this gets me a comment from CH’s mom (Grammy), I know I’ll have truly made it in blog-life. A girl can always dream.

Fat and Homely (With a LIttle Stupidity)

For the first time ever, I just watched Cold Case. Umm... I guess I should say there'll be spoilers. There'll be spoilers.

So, this episode disgusted me over and over with the messages it sends about fat women. And before you say it, yes, I know. It's entirely possible, and hell, even probable, that CBS wasn't trying to "send a message" with this show. They were probably just trying to make a show that would get ratings. Or viewers. Or both. Or whatever it is that tv stations try to do these days. None the less, I walked away focusing on some depressing shit. (Negative press is still press, I know.)

Here's the overall episode:

Fat, mildly homely woman ('FMHW') who has a penchant for reading romance novels goes to a video-dating service in the hopes of finding a man. She believes in love. It can come at any time. You could be sitting on a park bench, reading a book, and love will find you. Tall, dark and handsome man ('TDHM') expresses interest in her video, and it's all her dreams come true. They meet, and begin dating. Two weeks into their relationship, she and her (traditionally pretty) roommate come home to find the guy stealing her tv.

FMHW is SO desperate to continue having relationship with tall, dark and handsome thief that she begs him, when he says it's over to stay involved with her. In any way he's willing.

Let's pause right there for a moment, yes? And let's pretend, even though we know it's not, that it's reality. If you were fat and mildly homely, and the FIRST time you threw yourself out there, you bagged a hot guy who just so happened to be a thief, wouldn't you try again, this time hoping to find a hot guy who didn't steal? I would. The odds are good. A hot thief could happen to a pretty girl. I'd consider the stealing a fluke and try again. Why was she so desperate to hold on to the very first guy she'd tried for and gotten?

Oh wait, did I say she was desperate? Because that doesn't even BEGIN to describe the lows she's willing to go to. FMHW proposes to TDHM that he marry other fat and homely women. Why? Because they KNOW they're so fat and homely that there's little to no hope for them ever having a man take care of them, and that's why all fat and homely women have secret stashes.

Okay, for any men reading this, I just want to be very clear: I have no stash. No drug stash, no cash stash. I do have a Chapstick stash, but you wouldn't be rich if you killed me for that, just pathetic (with really smooth lips). Oh, and a murderer. Shouldn't forget that part. You'd be a pathetic murderer with really smooth lips.

Moving along. TDHM claims marrying fat women won't work for him. Divorce can be so messy, spousal support and all. But don't feel bad for him, because FMHW comes up with an even better idea. Marry them, and then promptly get rid of them. TDHM agrees. Because he wants the secret stash FMHW convinces him all fat women have.

Pausing yet again. Let's put aside that fat women are expendable. That they're just good for whatever money they can bring to a relationship. That all women have to give men is their looks. HELLO?! The implication that fat women would jump at any chance to be with a hot guy, no matter his morals, no matter anything else about him but his looks, disgusts me. What about how he treats other people? Whether or not he has good work ethics? Is nice to animals and old ladies? Clean fingernails? There's just so much more to a guy than how he looks! The idea that there's not, really pisses me off.

Am I the only person who thinks a person's looks get better or worse based on their personality? In seventh grade Jason Stein spent our social studies periods throwing spitballs in my hair for months at a time. And you know what? Despite the fact that I'd had a crush on him since I first saw him back in fifth grade, I let that feeling go. Because how could I like someone who was mean? If I continued to like him, I'd have to hate myself. You can't like someone who's mean to you without compromising your own self esteem.

So the two come up with a plan. He hooks other fat chicks, she pretends to be his sister. He marries said fat chicks at a quickie ceremony, then the next day, FMHW kills them by running them over with a truck. After killing five or so women, she magically grows a conscience and tells TDHM she can't do it any more. The guilt is too much.

You'd think seeing him fake being in love with all these other women would be too much too, but no. You'd think a lot of things during the commercials, but then realize it's just a tv show and you're getting way too worked up about it.

When FMHW tells TDHM she wants out, he realizes he can't let her walk away with all this knowledge of illegal things he's done. So he offers to marry her. Keeping your enemies close and all. FMHW finally has one small moment of clarity and realizes he always proposes to women when he's ready to get rid of them, when he's gotten all he can out of them.

********************************************************************

I won't spoil the end for you, though I can't imagine anyone actually Tivo's this show, but just in case. However, by now I think you've seen what my problems are with this. I have several friends who are not traditionally thin and pretty, and yet are married and happy. And they're not married to ugly guys.

When I was in college, one of the very few projects I actually did was for a Business Management class, and I chose the topic of sexual harrassment. To go along with my report, I created a little quiz (I was reading a lot of Cosmo back then) entitled "Would You Recognize Sexual Harrassment If It Slapped You On the Ass?"

After reading my report to the class, and handing out the quiz, I asked if anyone had any questions. A girl actually asked me, "So we take this quiz to see if we're being sexually harrassed?" My jaw dropped. I struggled to find words to answer such a question. "No, you know you're being sexually harrassed if your situation fits the definition of sexual harrassment printed at the top of the quiz." It was clear she wasn't clear.

Now, you might say she had learning disabilities, and that's why she had a hard time understanding the concept of sexual harrassment. You'd think since I have them, I'd be forgiving. But you'd be wrong. See, in general, people are either auditory learners or visual learners or tactile learners or some combination. She'd gotten the first two. Fuck it, you'll just have to take my word for it - this girl was stupid, okay? She just was.

To think that she'd be a better "catch" simply because she was neither fat nor homely, despite her stupidity? No way. That's an insult to my friends who aren't traditionally perfect. And no, I'm not saying my friends are fat and homely, because they're not. My friends are beautiful. Partially because they are, and partially because their personalities make them that way. I am however saying that there's more to people than their looks. And anyone who can't see that is stupid.

Anti-Sheep

So BlogHer is finally over. Well, this year's conference is, at least. Now maybe people will have time to get back to blogging like they usually do, about the things that amuse those of us who don't go to BlogHer conferences.

And hey, one of the things I kept reading last week (before I'd taken my blog-reading sabbatical, obviously) was that people kept saying that BlogHer was not like high school, and everyone got along. So, here's an idea that rolled across my brain: would people still have said that if Violent Acres had attended? Now THAT would have been some post-BlogHer interesting reading. Who would have offered to share a room with VA, to save money? Would everyone have invited her to sit at their table? Or would people have been too afraid of what she might say about them? I wonder. Then I decide it's all moot, since I doubt she'd go to a BlogHer conference.

Speaking of whom, can we talk about her blog? What's that? My blog, therefore my decision? Oh, well excellent. Let's.

I agree with a lot of the things Violent Acres writes. Yeah, I said it. I rarely say it out loud of course, because who does? But yeah, sometimes kids are annoying, or are being bratty, and I totally want to bitchslap whatever adult isn't minding them. Yesterday I was in line at a restaurant with a friend, and a little kid ran over my foot, hitting me in the leg as he went past me. "I fucking hate kids," I mumbled to my friend. She, a mother of a totally cute kid who I like, laughed. She wouldn't admit it, but I think in that moment she might have been hating kids a little bit too, since she was being repeatedly banged into also. Of course I don't REALLY hate kids - I like well-behaved ones. But I was still in the throes of having a bad day right then, and was seeing everything negative. If it had been a dog that had stepped on my foot, I probably would have said I hated dogs, even though everyone who knows me knows I love dogs.

Another reason I generally like VA is because she's not a sheep. She's not against agreeing with people, but if she disagrees with the masses, she'll say so, and I admire that. I care too much what people think to do that. Hey, it's the aftermath of growing up without friends.

Lately, I'm disappointed by people. I keep seeing people agreeing and encouraging cruelty to those who dare to disagree, even when it's done respectfully. And that bothers me. It's okay to disagree with people! You can like someone and disagree with them ALL AT THE SAME TIME! You know that whole "agree to disagree" concept? It works, I promise. I use it all the time.

Just because you're friends with somebody it doesn't mean you have to agree with every single thing they do and say and wear and promote. Sometimes I think of shutting my blog down, because it's served its original purpose. I wanted opinions from people who came from other backgrounds, from people who were outside of my immediate circle.

And now? Well, obviously, I don't get very many comments compared to some other blogs I read, and to be honest, while I, like everyone, appreciate encouragement, I sometimes worry that it's blind encouragement. I don't want to be patted on the back for every decision I make. I want to be challenged to think outside of my box, to see things in my life in new ways. I want to be pushed to be better.

I know I'm smart. But I'm not the smartest person out there, by a long shot. If everyone's patting me on the back ... where's my inspiration to do more, better? It's supposed to come from within? Fuck that. Despite my smarts, I'm a simple girl, and I need inspiration that comes from the world. From outside of me. Most people do. And it's okay to be like most people. As long as you've considered being a different way first. One billion Chinamen CAN be wrong. Little thing called WWII, anyone?

So please. Believe what you say, don't be afraid to disagree, comment early, and comment often. Oh, and in my effort to be more bold about disagreeing with the masses, it seems vests are making a comeback this fall, and I don't think it's a good idea.

Random Frustrations - Bulleted For Your Pleasure

• So far I have turned down two job offers, interviewed for two other jobs that would be perfect, been rejected for one, and am waiting to hear if I am being asked back for second interviews for the last. I am frustrated to not be working. I keep forgetting my plan to "do one fun and one productive thing each day" and that's pissing me off.
• Technical difficulties are difficult. My power cord falls out a lot. I spend more time than I should repositioning it just so. My laptop is in heart failure, and each time I turn it off, I'm not sure I'll be able to turn it on next time. There's an operation I could try that involves taking out the motherboard, but I don't have a small enough scalpel, nor did I do a rotation in this speciality. I'd buy a new laptop, but I'm trying to hold out until I have a steady paycheck.
• Starting today Trixie is driving cross-country for about a week, and left her smelly foods in the fridge.
• I am disappointed in the fact that not everyone seems to know what my parents spent years trying to drum into my thick skull - that not everything is black or white. I'm sure they didn't mean it, but I always got the impression from my parents when they were yelling at me that any asshole would know what they were saying. That I was way behind everyone else. Even though I'm 30, I still get surprised when I realize my peers don't seem to know what I thought were very basic lessons. I am disappointed at seeing people get dismissed in their entirety simply for having different opinions.
• People who don't e-mail me back. No, not you - you're good. But you, well, that's a different story*. When, in an effort to help you, people go out of their way to articulate their feelings about a subject that you've made clear is worrying you, it would be nice to respond. Just saying. Even just a quick, "Thanks, you've given me a lot to think about" would suffice.
• Shitty blogs. Yeah that's right - even though I may not be commenting, I'm reading. Between people having so much ad-shit on their blog that it takes MINUTES to load, people writing about crap that's uninteresting to me, and blog posts that make me sad at how cut-throat people are being, I think I should take a reading break. Maybe for a while I'll just stick to Newsweek and published authors with physical books.
• Speaking of Newsweek, I could have a gorilla live in my apartment, right? There's room for a family of them, isn't there? If I were a trillionnaire, I'd totally find some way to buy the land where those gorillas live and then protect it so they can live peacefully.
• Even though it seems to be a Vice President's job is to stay alive in case the President is unavailable to "serve" their country, I bet we could give the American people a different impression of what VP's do if Hillary were President and Barrack were VP. I am hesitant to vote for him for President now, but if he'd put in a tour as VP, then I'd definitely feel better about it.
• Lack of closet space. That's right, I'm frustrated by it. Surely I just need to rearrange and then I'll find space, but right now in the corner behind my bedroom door, three bath towels are piled on top of a box that a fan is in, and that's pissing me off.
• Know what else is pissing me off? That my list of Shit To Buy When I Have a Paycheck is growing so long.
• You know why all these things are pissing me off? I'll tell you.
  1. Because they're all being realized at the same time.
  2. Because some are out of my control.
  3. Probably not doing fucking yoga anymore contributes to my frustration aslo.
• Lack of Fucking Yoga. Why? Because my 90 days ended and I haven't gone in to ask what sort of deal they'll give me for more yoga. Why? No good reason, only lame excuses.
• You know what else annoys me? Cutesy spellings for random words for absolutely no reason other than to try to appear cute and Kre8ive. I hate reading blogs where people try to drop a cute version of a word in and I'm reading the sentence three times in a row trying to figure out what the fuck they're trying to say.
• My stupidity. I may be on a vacation from work, but my stupidity never takes a hike. It's always with me, like [insert some witty phrase here].

*Soon after posting this, I was e-mailed back. You don't need to worry it was you.

So You Think You Can Dance - We're BACK!

Problem after problem. First my shitty cable company wouldn't display the channel for a week or so. Then some asshole decided baseball was more important.

Finally, people got my priorities straight and I got to watch tonight. So, let's talk. Cat's hair. Normally, I'm retarded about things like this, but even I could see her roots glaring out at America. Cat, go get your highlights touched up!

Sara & Danny, Dance 1. Sara seemed a bit choppy at first, but smoothed things out towards the end. Dance 2. I love that song. In fact, I think I own the TAPE. But I really disliked their remix of it, disliked Shane's choreography, and HATED the outfits. Sara's spandex pants? Hated them. The bright yellow shirts with red graffitti writing? Hated that too. They took a song that had potential and stomped on it.

Dominic & Lauren, Dance 1. Again, with the wardrobe department. Were those people smoking crack? I could only have hated their outfits more if they were wearing what Sara & Danny wore. Thought their first dance was HORRIBLE, and a very anti-climactic ending. However, props to Lauren for admitting she fell when confronted by Nigel about it. With more practice, I think they really could have done much better. Dance 2. Their hips were unengaged. Way too stiff. Their milkshake did not bring me to the yard. Big mistake.

Lacey & Neil, Dance 1. She looked like she didn't trust Neil during their lift, I hated her dress, and apparently she and Lauren must be sharing a room, because her hips were also stiff. Do these girls need an hour-long dance class in isolations each day so they remember to move their hips?! Dance 2. BULLSHIT. In general I hate contemporary dancing. I hate it personally - it's what we used to call "modern dance" when I was a kid, and I hated it then too. Because I'm anal, and I hated the idea of bare feet on the floor. And how you have to have turn-in, rather than turn-out. I just hate the lines. Hate everything about it. CRYING? People were CRYING over this shit? PLEASE. I felt NOTHING.* And don't try to say I'm a heartless bitch - I cried watching Sicko.

Sabra & Pasha, Dance 1. They had high energy, great dancing, if I were casting for a Broadway play, I'd totally hire them. Dance 2. LOVED IT. They better not be in the bottom.

*I googled my favorite line and what comes up? A comment *I* made on someone's blog. That line is so wonderful, so fitting for so many occasions, how can I possibly be the only one who's written that on the internet?