Saturday, January 31, 2009
People who talk on the phone at a movie
Seriously? You just paid $12 to see Synecdoche, New York, and you are going to take a phone call in the middle of it and then talk on the phone on the stairs on your way outside? Ridiculous. More to the point, I paid $12 to see Synedoche, New York, and you have just interrupted my afternoon by being ridiculous. Save your money and stay home, watch something on On-Demand cable and don't bother the rest of us. Unless you are a doctor, there is no call that you have to take in the middle of my movie-going experience.
Parking Lots
Most of my ire on this subject has historically been directed toward the Whole Foods parking lot on Ashland, however, I was there yesterday and the direction signs seem to have entirely faded (THEY'VE GIVEN UP) and thus my righteous indignation is less righteous. However. Back to the point:
In many parking lots there are arrows painted on the ground showing the direction of traffic. I point this out because most of you don't seem to notice this. You know why those arrows are there? Because if people obey them, we'll all get out of the lot faster, with fewer accidents, and in an orderly fashion.
I live in a city. Even in this city with lots of land, most parking lots are not big enough for each lane to be two-directional and for cars to pull in and out easily. It may seem sometimes that it will be quicker to cut across several lanes in the wrong direction. If it's 4am and there's no one there, sure. That seems reasonable. But at, say, 6:30pm on a weekday at a grocery store...no. Unacceptable.
But, you say, if I don't do that the car over there will get that space I see! That perfect space. True. That may be true. But you know what? I'm in that car over there, and I followed the god damn rules, and you're being an a-hole.
Ahem. Rudeness aside, going the wrong direction also causes the entire system to slow down. Cars can't pull out of spaces for fear of hitting everyone else. The cars with their lights blinking waiting for the other cars that are pulling out sometimes have to back up and go around. (only to have their slots stolen by a-holes, most likely). It all becomes dangerous, slow, and incredibly frustrating.
Anyone who has occasion to be near the aforementioned Whole Foods on a weekday after work can attest to this. Traffic will back up for blocks as people can't turn off the street into the lot because there's too much traffic within the lot. Some of that is not fixable. But most of it is, or would be if they hadn't given up and let the arrows fade. (Also, the problem at this lot is compounded by the fact that the Whole Foods patrons seem loath to use the indoor adjacent parking lot that is also free. So there will often be many empty spaces inside while a dozen cars back up traffic for blocks with their idiotic, non-arrow-following, ways).
I see three solutions:
1) Bikes and backpacks
2) Get rid of surface parking. Move it all into lots underground with their elaborate one-way lanes.
3) Stop being a-holes. Follow the rules.
In many parking lots there are arrows painted on the ground showing the direction of traffic. I point this out because most of you don't seem to notice this. You know why those arrows are there? Because if people obey them, we'll all get out of the lot faster, with fewer accidents, and in an orderly fashion.
I live in a city. Even in this city with lots of land, most parking lots are not big enough for each lane to be two-directional and for cars to pull in and out easily. It may seem sometimes that it will be quicker to cut across several lanes in the wrong direction. If it's 4am and there's no one there, sure. That seems reasonable. But at, say, 6:30pm on a weekday at a grocery store...no. Unacceptable.
But, you say, if I don't do that the car over there will get that space I see! That perfect space. True. That may be true. But you know what? I'm in that car over there, and I followed the god damn rules, and you're being an a-hole.
Ahem. Rudeness aside, going the wrong direction also causes the entire system to slow down. Cars can't pull out of spaces for fear of hitting everyone else. The cars with their lights blinking waiting for the other cars that are pulling out sometimes have to back up and go around. (only to have their slots stolen by a-holes, most likely). It all becomes dangerous, slow, and incredibly frustrating.
Anyone who has occasion to be near the aforementioned Whole Foods on a weekday after work can attest to this. Traffic will back up for blocks as people can't turn off the street into the lot because there's too much traffic within the lot. Some of that is not fixable. But most of it is, or would be if they hadn't given up and let the arrows fade. (Also, the problem at this lot is compounded by the fact that the Whole Foods patrons seem loath to use the indoor adjacent parking lot that is also free. So there will often be many empty spaces inside while a dozen cars back up traffic for blocks with their idiotic, non-arrow-following, ways).
I see three solutions:
1) Bikes and backpacks
2) Get rid of surface parking. Move it all into lots underground with their elaborate one-way lanes.
3) Stop being a-holes. Follow the rules.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Rick Warren
This is not trivial, and not that recent, but it makes me mad, so I am going to say my piece. Rick Warren should not have been invited to give a prayer at Obama's inauguration. Seriously. This is probably a good guy, and he obviously inspires a lot of people, but he is not, to me, a role model of the Christian faith. He has spent time and money preaching on the evils of homosexuality and gay marriage. Boo to that. Boo, I say! What ever happened to love thy neighbor as thyself, and forgiveness and tolerance? Why give this guy a platform from which to speak? Why validate his hateful positions under the guise of bi-partisan cooperation? The Republicans aren't going to vote for the stimulus package because Rick Warren was on the dais. Plus, how many other amazing, inspiring Christian leaders are there in this country who could have given the prayer? There must be one of two? I always liked the crazy Catholic priests we had at Bond Chapel. They spent way more time talking about the evils of capital punishment and never once mentioned abortion while I was there.
Sigh, Prez Obama. Sigh.
Sigh, Prez Obama. Sigh.
Electronic Resources
Now, I realize that this is a first world problem of the highest order, and one that really applies only to people like me, whose work-study job is to conduct research on South Africa for a professor in my graduate school program. Now, I love this job, and I will be really sad to have to leave it in May, so I take this rather seriously.
It is my current assignment to proof a bibliography for this professor's new book, and it is so much harder than it should be. Half the newspapers that are supposed to be on LexisNexis aren't, and Factiva is a fucking joke. Seriously. I never thought I would ever care, but I really do. I take issue with this mainly because these newspapers are 2nd/3rd world publications, and they are not being properly documented, which I think is kind of racist. Anyway, it makes me super mad that there is no way to double check the page number of an article in the Mail & Guardian because it is not properly archived online. Dumb. This is what the internet is for!
It is my current assignment to proof a bibliography for this professor's new book, and it is so much harder than it should be. Half the newspapers that are supposed to be on LexisNexis aren't, and Factiva is a fucking joke. Seriously. I never thought I would ever care, but I really do. I take issue with this mainly because these newspapers are 2nd/3rd world publications, and they are not being properly documented, which I think is kind of racist. Anyway, it makes me super mad that there is no way to double check the page number of an article in the Mail & Guardian because it is not properly archived online. Dumb. This is what the internet is for!
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
New Haven
If you went to Yale, and someone asks you where you went to college, please don't say "New Haven." We know what that means; you went to Yale. Good for you- you are probably smart. Bad for us, you are totally pretentious. I do not think that you are modest and awesome. I think that you are assuming that I know that Yale is in New Haven (which I do, but still), and that makes me think that you are saying your university is so famous that I should be in awe of you and feel bad about myself, and that makes me think that you are a douche. Note: this also goes for Cambridge/Harvard. Similar unacceptable statements include "while I was in New Haven, I dated this guy..." No. Please say, "at Yale" or "at college." Exceptions are if you are talking about something New Haven specific- like "When I lived in New Haven, I ate a lot of pizza." That is fine but barely.
Interestingly, the same goes for if you went to New Haven Technical Institute. If you say, "when I was studying in New Haven..." I will think of Yale. And then it is weird when I find out that you didn't go to Yale, and wonder why you are ashamed of your school. I actually find that less annoying, though.
Interestingly, the same goes for if you went to New Haven Technical Institute. If you say, "when I was studying in New Haven..." I will think of Yale. And then it is weird when I find out that you didn't go to Yale, and wonder why you are ashamed of your school. I actually find that less annoying, though.
Ex-boyfriends Ruining Songs
So, sometimes you have a boyfriend (or girlfriend, or transgendered friend), and (s)he is the worst, or your relationship is terrible, or you break up because he wants to get back together with a Scientologist. This sucks. Truly. Not Trivial in the slightest.
But the worst is when you hear a song and you think of this person, and you cry and the song in RUINED.
That is so lame. Songs are for all people! I want to listen to "Lay, Lady, Lay" on repeat because it is great, not because this one time we heard it at a concert and it is so romantic. It's not romantic. It is sad as hell, and vaguely abusive.
I am happy to say that tonight, a number of songs that once belonged to the ages have helped me write my thesis. Take that, boys!
This is the first in a series of Valentine's Day related posts that have nothing to do with my non-existent love life.
But the worst is when you hear a song and you think of this person, and you cry and the song in RUINED.
That is so lame. Songs are for all people! I want to listen to "Lay, Lady, Lay" on repeat because it is great, not because this one time we heard it at a concert and it is so romantic. It's not romantic. It is sad as hell, and vaguely abusive.
I am happy to say that tonight, a number of songs that once belonged to the ages have helped me write my thesis. Take that, boys!
This is the first in a series of Valentine's Day related posts that have nothing to do with my non-existent love life.
Cake does not come from a mix
I make no claims on the cooking front. I agree with Dixie that modifying prepared food does not count as creating an amazing recipe, though I have recently become a big fan of Cooking With All Things Trader Joe's. I'm good at making marinara sauce, poached eggs and spinach (often together). Beyond that, I'm really good at delivery and leftovers.
However, when it comes to baking I have some feelings.
Thing 1, Cake does not come from a mix. Neither do cookies. Or pancakes.
Here's the secret about baking: the hardest part is cleaning up. Beyond that, it's chemistry. Unless you want to get fancy and make up your own new taste sensations, all you have to do is precisely follow the directions. Sure, you may have to make an allowance for an unbalanced oven or altitude, but beyond that....follow the directions.
You don't have to chop a million spices, use any fancy knife skills, or constantly taste for salt. Nope, just follow the instructions in the recipe. Easy. Baking a cake is much easier than making a killer entree.
Cake mixes require, and please correct me if I'm wrong, adding 3 or so ingredients to the mix, then putting it in a pan and baking it. Baking a cake from scratch adds a few more ingredients (but not that many more) and creates a much more delicious end product with many fewer chemicals.
Example. The internet tells me that Betty Crocker "super moist" chocolate cake mix contains: Sugar, Enriched Flour Bleached (Wheat Flour, Niacin, Iron, Thiamin Mononitrate, Riboflavin, Folic Acid), Partially Hydrogenated Soybean and/or Cottonseed Oil, Cocoa Processed with Alkali, Modified Corn Starch, Corn Starch, Baking Soda, Carob Powder, Propylene Glycol Monoesters of Fatty Acids, Lactose, Salt, Distilled Monoglycerides, Modified Whey, Artificial Color, Sodium Aluminum Phosphate, Dicalcium Phosphate, Monocalcium Phosphate, Sodium Stearoyl Lactylate, Monoglycerides, Xanthan Gum, Datem. Artificial Flavor, Aluminum Sulfate.
To that list of unpronounceables one adds vegetable oil, water, and eggs.
Do you even know what half those things are? They don't even bother to break out "artificial flavor".
My grandmother's super moist chocolate cake recipe, by contrast, calls for sugar, butter, eggs, milk, hot water, baking soda, flour, cocoa, and vanilla. 9 ingredients, all of which most of you have in your kitchen already. There are many simpler cake recipes that use fewer ingredients, this is just a compare and contrast.
I'll guarantee you that the "from scratch" cake takes only 5 minutes longer to prepare and tastes much much better.
I feel similarly about cookies and brownies, and please let's not get started on Bisquick for pancakes. Making pancakes from scratch requires flour, baking soda, milk, and an egg. Oh, and a dash of salt, and of course butter or oil for the griddle. Making pancakes from Bisquick does not save any time, and I'll put my pancakes next to yours any day. Plus then you have a big yellow box in your cupboard when you could just have flour.
Look, I'm all for laziness. I eat the occasional frozen dinner. But if you're going to make cake, it might as well taste delicious.
Oh, and frosting? It does not come from a can. It comes from mixing confectioners sugar with milk and butter. Or any number of other 3 ingredient options.
However, when it comes to baking I have some feelings.
Thing 1, Cake does not come from a mix. Neither do cookies. Or pancakes.
Here's the secret about baking: the hardest part is cleaning up. Beyond that, it's chemistry. Unless you want to get fancy and make up your own new taste sensations, all you have to do is precisely follow the directions. Sure, you may have to make an allowance for an unbalanced oven or altitude, but beyond that....follow the directions.
You don't have to chop a million spices, use any fancy knife skills, or constantly taste for salt. Nope, just follow the instructions in the recipe. Easy. Baking a cake is much easier than making a killer entree.
Cake mixes require, and please correct me if I'm wrong, adding 3 or so ingredients to the mix, then putting it in a pan and baking it. Baking a cake from scratch adds a few more ingredients (but not that many more) and creates a much more delicious end product with many fewer chemicals.
Example. The internet tells me that Betty Crocker "super moist" chocolate cake mix contains: Sugar, Enriched Flour Bleached (Wheat Flour, Niacin, Iron, Thiamin Mononitrate, Riboflavin, Folic Acid), Partially Hydrogenated Soybean and/or Cottonseed Oil, Cocoa Processed with Alkali, Modified Corn Starch, Corn Starch, Baking Soda, Carob Powder, Propylene Glycol Monoesters of Fatty Acids, Lactose, Salt, Distilled Monoglycerides, Modified Whey, Artificial Color, Sodium Aluminum Phosphate, Dicalcium Phosphate, Monocalcium Phosphate, Sodium Stearoyl Lactylate, Monoglycerides, Xanthan Gum, Datem. Artificial Flavor, Aluminum Sulfate.
To that list of unpronounceables one adds vegetable oil, water, and eggs.
Do you even know what half those things are? They don't even bother to break out "artificial flavor".
My grandmother's super moist chocolate cake recipe, by contrast, calls for sugar, butter, eggs, milk, hot water, baking soda, flour, cocoa, and vanilla. 9 ingredients, all of which most of you have in your kitchen already. There are many simpler cake recipes that use fewer ingredients, this is just a compare and contrast.
I'll guarantee you that the "from scratch" cake takes only 5 minutes longer to prepare and tastes much much better.
I feel similarly about cookies and brownies, and please let's not get started on Bisquick for pancakes. Making pancakes from scratch requires flour, baking soda, milk, and an egg. Oh, and a dash of salt, and of course butter or oil for the griddle. Making pancakes from Bisquick does not save any time, and I'll put my pancakes next to yours any day. Plus then you have a big yellow box in your cupboard when you could just have flour.
Look, I'm all for laziness. I eat the occasional frozen dinner. But if you're going to make cake, it might as well taste delicious.
Oh, and frosting? It does not come from a can. It comes from mixing confectioners sugar with milk and butter. Or any number of other 3 ingredient options.
I make great...
I get really annoyed when people claim that they make a really great (insert food here) and then you learn that they just modify some store bought thing. Such as, "I make really great chicken soup- I take the campbell's soup, and I add that roasted chicken from Jewel and some mushrooms." No, you don't make great chicken soup. My mom does. You have a good idea about how to make canned soup better. Don't get too excited about yourself.
Now, I am a terrible baker. I don't have the focus, precision or drive to be really good. So, when I bake a cake, I use Duncan Hines. And you know what? IT IS DELICIOUS and a lot better than it would be if I made it from scratch. Now, I am not going to go around saying "I bake awesome cakes" because I don't. But I might say, "yo, I baked this cake. From a box. Would you like a slice? It is delicious." and that is fine (HEIDI.) I'm not making any false claims there. But please, don't tell me about your awesome chili recipe, when we are talking about you heating up a can and adding cheese. But yes, I will have a bowl of it, thank you.
Now, I am a terrible baker. I don't have the focus, precision or drive to be really good. So, when I bake a cake, I use Duncan Hines. And you know what? IT IS DELICIOUS and a lot better than it would be if I made it from scratch. Now, I am not going to go around saying "I bake awesome cakes" because I don't. But I might say, "yo, I baked this cake. From a box. Would you like a slice? It is delicious." and that is fine (HEIDI.) I'm not making any false claims there. But please, don't tell me about your awesome chili recipe, when we are talking about you heating up a can and adding cheese. But yes, I will have a bowl of it, thank you.
Edison Plugs in Airport Waiting Areas
Seriously, it's the 90s people! We all have laptops! If there are only two plugs, and one teenager from Belarus is somehow using both outlets because his cell phone charger takes over the whole thing, the rest of us can't watch videos or play games or do emails. Seriously. Every airport in American needs to go to the Walgreen's and buy some power strips and make the airport just a little bit more civilized.
Fake Vegetarianism
Ann Marie feels strongly about veganism. I, having been a vegetarian for going on 15 years, feel strongly about vegetarianism.
Here's the thing. If you eat fish, you are not a vegetarian. You aren't. You're someone who doesn't eat red meat or chicken.
If you eat chicken, you are not a vegetarian. You are someone who doesn't eat red meat.
And so on. Vegetarians come in a couple flavors: Lacto-ovo vegetarians are people like me who don't eat meat, but do eat dairy products and honey and gelatin. We usually wear leather and aren't fanatical about products derived from animal by-products.
Lacto Vegetarians drink milk but don't eat eggs. Ovo-vegetarians (are rare) eat eggs but not milk products. Etc.
Vegans don't eat any food that once had something to do with an animal. This usually includes gelatin and yeast and sometimes honey. Vegans usually don't wear leather and are much more vigilant about what products they bring into their home.
There's one thing in common here though: no type of vegetarian eats animals.
Fish are in the animal kingdom. If you eat fish you can not in good conscience call yourself a vegetarian.
I don't care what you eat. I'm not judging your choices. I make my choices, you make yours, we all live happily together. I'm much more likely to lecture you about sustainable cleaning products than giving up meat.
So, in case I wasn't clear, if you eat any type of animal, you are not a vegetarian.
Here's the thing. If you eat fish, you are not a vegetarian. You aren't. You're someone who doesn't eat red meat or chicken.
If you eat chicken, you are not a vegetarian. You are someone who doesn't eat red meat.
And so on. Vegetarians come in a couple flavors: Lacto-ovo vegetarians are people like me who don't eat meat, but do eat dairy products and honey and gelatin. We usually wear leather and aren't fanatical about products derived from animal by-products.
Lacto Vegetarians drink milk but don't eat eggs. Ovo-vegetarians (are rare) eat eggs but not milk products. Etc.
Vegans don't eat any food that once had something to do with an animal. This usually includes gelatin and yeast and sometimes honey. Vegans usually don't wear leather and are much more vigilant about what products they bring into their home.
There's one thing in common here though: no type of vegetarian eats animals.
Fish are in the animal kingdom. If you eat fish you can not in good conscience call yourself a vegetarian.
I don't care what you eat. I'm not judging your choices. I make my choices, you make yours, we all live happily together. I'm much more likely to lecture you about sustainable cleaning products than giving up meat.
So, in case I wasn't clear, if you eat any type of animal, you are not a vegetarian.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Fake Veganism
Okay, recently I have tried a series of diets, none too noteworthy or, to be honest, none that have worked. Because I like to be informed, I decided to go see a nutritionist, who gave me excellent advice, as well as read the book Skinny Bitch. For fun, or so I thought.
Now, I thought this book was basically going to be funny and have funny advice like "drink wine," "don't eat microwaved meals while sitting in bed watching Hulu," and "have sex, it burns like 500 calories!" (All good dieting advice, btw.) But no, Skinny Bitch is a tome dedicated to convincing scared women that they real way to lose those last ten pounds is to become a vegan.
Now, I like vegans. I think people who are vegans are brave and have will power that I don't have. In short, that's great, but it's not for me. But this whole book is basically a less interesting version of Fast Food Nation, the moral of which is that being fat is the worst and being a vegan is the answer. Because everything we eat is disgusting. Forget it. So not my bag of gluten-free baked chips! It basically just seems like a great excuse for teenagers who frequent pro-ana websites to never eat a family meal ever again. But I digress...
So, my "diet" is going to have to consist of exercise, mainly my horrible, self-hating Bikram yoga, which will inspire a post on "integrated product synergy systems," or Why I Hate that my Yoga Studio Makes Me Feel Like I Have to Drink SmartWater."
Now, I thought this book was basically going to be funny and have funny advice like "drink wine," "don't eat microwaved meals while sitting in bed watching Hulu," and "have sex, it burns like 500 calories!" (All good dieting advice, btw.) But no, Skinny Bitch is a tome dedicated to convincing scared women that they real way to lose those last ten pounds is to become a vegan.
Now, I like vegans. I think people who are vegans are brave and have will power that I don't have. In short, that's great, but it's not for me. But this whole book is basically a less interesting version of Fast Food Nation, the moral of which is that being fat is the worst and being a vegan is the answer. Because everything we eat is disgusting. Forget it. So not my bag of gluten-free baked chips! It basically just seems like a great excuse for teenagers who frequent pro-ana websites to never eat a family meal ever again. But I digress...
So, my "diet" is going to have to consist of exercise, mainly my horrible, self-hating Bikram yoga, which will inspire a post on "integrated product synergy systems," or Why I Hate that my Yoga Studio Makes Me Feel Like I Have to Drink SmartWater."
Guest Stars
Sometimes a TV show will hire a slew of guest stars because it is popular. This seems to be the case with 30 Rock this season. The show is far from jumping the shark, in my opinion, but here comes the parade of guest stars and well-known actors in bit parts--like when Donna Moss from The West Wing played Jack's fake ex-grlfriend at Liz Lemon's high school reunion. Way below her pay grade (which now apparently involves playing Scott Peterson's lady-friend in made for a TV movie).
The more fascinating and troubled version of the guest star problem occurs when a show has definitely outlived its welcome, and this is where my complaint resides. I watch a lot of TV, mainly because I find it soothing and the long story-lines are interesting. So, as I write my thesis, I have been re-watching Alias, the JJ Abrams show, which was my favorite TV show for several years when it was still on the air. Season 3 was tenuous at best. Season 4 is insane, and completely ludicrous, in part because Jennifer Garner was busy having Violet Affleck. So, I get home and put on an episode as I begin to write, and I recognize a voice. It's Omar from The Wire! Sweet! But then, all of a sudden, another guy from The Wire shows up. It's Spiros Vondopoulos. Sweet Jesus! But then the 'piece de resistance' comes as I am checking my Facebook and chatting with a middle school friend who has a baby. It's that voice...it's Adminral Cain from Battlestar Galactica. In one episode! One!
So basically, this is all too much for me. I have decided that rather than this being some kind of sign that I have somehow jumped the shark, and should stop watching television altogether, I've come to the conclusion that this means something else. Desperation is a powerful motivator. And I guess when the female star of a spy show can't do stuntd or be naked because she is carrying Ben Affleck's baby, it's as good a time as any to parade cable television's finest actors all over your network show.
The more fascinating and troubled version of the guest star problem occurs when a show has definitely outlived its welcome, and this is where my complaint resides. I watch a lot of TV, mainly because I find it soothing and the long story-lines are interesting. So, as I write my thesis, I have been re-watching Alias, the JJ Abrams show, which was my favorite TV show for several years when it was still on the air. Season 3 was tenuous at best. Season 4 is insane, and completely ludicrous, in part because Jennifer Garner was busy having Violet Affleck. So, I get home and put on an episode as I begin to write, and I recognize a voice. It's Omar from The Wire! Sweet! But then, all of a sudden, another guy from The Wire shows up. It's Spiros Vondopoulos. Sweet Jesus! But then the 'piece de resistance' comes as I am checking my Facebook and chatting with a middle school friend who has a baby. It's that voice...it's Adminral Cain from Battlestar Galactica. In one episode! One!
So basically, this is all too much for me. I have decided that rather than this being some kind of sign that I have somehow jumped the shark, and should stop watching television altogether, I've come to the conclusion that this means something else. Desperation is a powerful motivator. And I guess when the female star of a spy show can't do stuntd or be naked because she is carrying Ben Affleck's baby, it's as good a time as any to parade cable television's finest actors all over your network show.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Waiter problems.
I have many friends who are or were waiters, so I understand that it is a tough job, but I also understand that you can do it right, or you can do it wrong. Yesterday, I had two opposite service experiences.
Let's start with Brunch....
It was a craze at Over Easy, and Heidi and I waited for around 25 minutes. Which is kind of a long time, but no big thing. Once we sat down, our food came quickly, which is cool, but then the waiters started trying to clear our plates about 5 minutes later. For crying out loud! Just because I am not at that moment stuffing food in my mouth, that does not mean that I am finished, and you should clear my plate. Seriously- my plate is half full of food, I have had it for maybe 7 minutes, I am taking a sip of coffee and you say- "Are you done with that?" No, I'm not. Calm down. I know that you want the table, I get it, but I should be able to sit for at least as long as I waited. So back off. I also hate it when the waiter clears my plate when my companion is still eating. Or the other way around. I mean, I'm not going to get up and go because you took my plate- we will leave at the same time, so just leave the plate there. Not hard. This didn't happen at Over-Easy, but now I'm on a roll, so, please don't ask me if I want to keep my fork between courses in a fancy restaurant. If I used it, I don't want to keep it. I'm not going to lick it clean and keep it. Just give me a new fork.
But then, for dinner, I went to the magnificent Publican...
This is the greatest restaurant. Not only did our handsome waiter laugh at all of our little jokes, but he was helpful but not long winded about the menu. He was around when we needed him, but didn't hover. He was relaxed but not overly familiar and cheesy. He cleared all plates at the same time, but only after we had finished all of the food. He cleared all of the silverware after each course. It just made the whole meal that much more terrific. I can't recommend that place enough- Sunday nights, family style set menu for $45 per person. Also, they played the new Mavis Staples album, and then Dusty Springfield's greatest hits. Be still my beating heart.
Let's start with Brunch....
It was a craze at Over Easy, and Heidi and I waited for around 25 minutes. Which is kind of a long time, but no big thing. Once we sat down, our food came quickly, which is cool, but then the waiters started trying to clear our plates about 5 minutes later. For crying out loud! Just because I am not at that moment stuffing food in my mouth, that does not mean that I am finished, and you should clear my plate. Seriously- my plate is half full of food, I have had it for maybe 7 minutes, I am taking a sip of coffee and you say- "Are you done with that?" No, I'm not. Calm down. I know that you want the table, I get it, but I should be able to sit for at least as long as I waited. So back off. I also hate it when the waiter clears my plate when my companion is still eating. Or the other way around. I mean, I'm not going to get up and go because you took my plate- we will leave at the same time, so just leave the plate there. Not hard. This didn't happen at Over-Easy, but now I'm on a roll, so, please don't ask me if I want to keep my fork between courses in a fancy restaurant. If I used it, I don't want to keep it. I'm not going to lick it clean and keep it. Just give me a new fork.
But then, for dinner, I went to the magnificent Publican...
This is the greatest restaurant. Not only did our handsome waiter laugh at all of our little jokes, but he was helpful but not long winded about the menu. He was around when we needed him, but didn't hover. He was relaxed but not overly familiar and cheesy. He cleared all plates at the same time, but only after we had finished all of the food. He cleared all of the silverware after each course. It just made the whole meal that much more terrific. I can't recommend that place enough- Sunday nights, family style set menu for $45 per person. Also, they played the new Mavis Staples album, and then Dusty Springfield's greatest hits. Be still my beating heart.
Women's clothing sizes
Men get it easy: while men's sizes are at first completely incomprehensible, they actually relate to measurements. This also means that sizes are consistent from store to store. The same can not be said of women's clothing sizes.
In my aforementioned hours of leisure in the morning, I spend perhaps (ahem) too much time online shopping. One of the many many things I have learned in the process is that no two stores label clothing the same way. This even applies to stores with the same corporate parent (I'm looking at you, Gap, Inc. The sizes at Old Navy bear virtually no relation to the sizes at Banana Republic).
I understand that stores want women to feel better about themselves and that consequently sizes have changed over time--today's 8 is yesterday's 14. My sister and I recently found a shirt of my mother's from college. It looked ridiculously small, like it was made for a twelve year old. We laughed at its itty-bittyness. Until we saw the "L" on the label. But I digress.
With no clear size consensus, the women of America are doomed to spend hours trying on different sizes and feeling badly about their bodies. Worse, women buy and then wear the wrong size all the time, in part because they self-identify as a certain size and refuse to buy something larger.
Some stores have "modern size" conversions so that you know that if you used to be an 8 but are now a 10 it's not your fault. Sizes at high-end stores (including those that don't carry above a 10) run much smaller than elsewhere. A designer 12 is smaller than an Old Navy 8. And so forth.
Get it together retail establishments. Make up new size labels that bear no relation to the past and are comparable store to store. Consider something radical like sizes based on letters if numbers are too judgmental. An "a" corresponding to a 0, and so forth. If the average American woman turns out to be an "h", she won't know that is supposed to make her feel fat.
In my aforementioned hours of leisure in the morning, I spend perhaps (ahem) too much time online shopping. One of the many many things I have learned in the process is that no two stores label clothing the same way. This even applies to stores with the same corporate parent (I'm looking at you, Gap, Inc. The sizes at Old Navy bear virtually no relation to the sizes at Banana Republic).
I understand that stores want women to feel better about themselves and that consequently sizes have changed over time--today's 8 is yesterday's 14. My sister and I recently found a shirt of my mother's from college. It looked ridiculously small, like it was made for a twelve year old. We laughed at its itty-bittyness. Until we saw the "L" on the label. But I digress.
With no clear size consensus, the women of America are doomed to spend hours trying on different sizes and feeling badly about their bodies. Worse, women buy and then wear the wrong size all the time, in part because they self-identify as a certain size and refuse to buy something larger.
Some stores have "modern size" conversions so that you know that if you used to be an 8 but are now a 10 it's not your fault. Sizes at high-end stores (including those that don't carry above a 10) run much smaller than elsewhere. A designer 12 is smaller than an Old Navy 8. And so forth.
Get it together retail establishments. Make up new size labels that bear no relation to the past and are comparable store to store. Consider something radical like sizes based on letters if numbers are too judgmental. An "a" corresponding to a 0, and so forth. If the average American woman turns out to be an "h", she won't know that is supposed to make her feel fat.
Radio call-in shows
I have an elaborate morning routine. Because I have an arts job, I am lucky to be able to work from 10-6 most days, unless I have an evening meeting. Because my husband leaves the house before 7 and I am a light sleeper, I usually have three hours in the morning all to myself.
While I occasionally take this time to be productive and clean the house or go to the gym, most often I read newspapers and blogs and listen to the radio.
Now, when I say "the radio" please understand that despite the availability of satellite and internet radio, I mean one thing only: WBEZ, Chicago Public Radio. I'm a member, are you?
My lovely morning routine (which includes only about 20 minutes of hygiene and beautification, the better to form strong opinions) used to end during 848, WBEZ's weekday morning show about Chicago. I had it timed just right so that if I left for the car during the third break I would miss only the tiniest bit of the show and get to work just after the 10am BBC World News Report. It's thanks to 848 that I know the names of many Aldermen and understand what the Cook County Board is supposed to do.
Recently, however, something terrible has happened. Whether it's because the new host (the venerable Richard Steele, who I otherwise adore) prefers it, or because of budget cuts, the show is now frequently that most horrifying of things, a call-in show.
I listen to WBEZ because it is chock-full of people who are even more well-informed than I (despite the aformentioned three hours of newspaper and blog reading). I'm a member because it gives what I consider neutral coverage to important issues. (Side note: a conservative friend of mine almost had a heart attack recently when I complained that NPR and WBEZ weren't liberal enough for me. He confessed that any time he turns it on, he wants to call in and yell at them for being lefties. And yet, we are friends).
If I want to know what my friends think about an issue, I ask. If I care about my neighbor's feelings, I shout across the fence. If I want to know what the "average American" feels, or how a certain segment reacted to something, I want survey/poll data. I want a smart person on the radio to analyze it for me. I don't want to hear interviews with people on the street for more than 2 minutes (and only then if heavily edited) and I never want just anyone to call in.
You know why? Because people whom I have to assume are perfectly intelligent and articulate in regular life turn into inarticulate monsters when they call in. They add in extraneous "ums" and "you knows". They ramble away from their point (if they even had one). They self-importantly agree along with the response or interject inappropriately. Too often they are mouth breathers. Furthermore, because of the delay between picking up a phone to call and when actually going on air (assuming these calls are screened first), the callers almost always have a question or comment about something from minutes earlier in the conversation, or that responds to a generic question as opposed to the ongoing conversation between host, guest, and audience.
848's new format has ruined my morning routine. I feel very strongly about this. No more call-in shows, please. Or if you must have people call in, please instruct them to ask a succint question and then take their answer off the air. If you really want audience interaction, if you think that is the future of radio, have people email in their questions, but for the love of god, do not let them talk into the airwaves.
Obviously this does not even begin to address conservative talk radio. That is a different subject entirely, and there is not enough time for me to describe the strength of my feelings on that issue.
While I occasionally take this time to be productive and clean the house or go to the gym, most often I read newspapers and blogs and listen to the radio.
Now, when I say "the radio" please understand that despite the availability of satellite and internet radio, I mean one thing only: WBEZ, Chicago Public Radio. I'm a member, are you?
My lovely morning routine (which includes only about 20 minutes of hygiene and beautification, the better to form strong opinions) used to end during 848, WBEZ's weekday morning show about Chicago. I had it timed just right so that if I left for the car during the third break I would miss only the tiniest bit of the show and get to work just after the 10am BBC World News Report. It's thanks to 848 that I know the names of many Aldermen and understand what the Cook County Board is supposed to do.
Recently, however, something terrible has happened. Whether it's because the new host (the venerable Richard Steele, who I otherwise adore) prefers it, or because of budget cuts, the show is now frequently that most horrifying of things, a call-in show.
I listen to WBEZ because it is chock-full of people who are even more well-informed than I (despite the aformentioned three hours of newspaper and blog reading). I'm a member because it gives what I consider neutral coverage to important issues. (Side note: a conservative friend of mine almost had a heart attack recently when I complained that NPR and WBEZ weren't liberal enough for me. He confessed that any time he turns it on, he wants to call in and yell at them for being lefties. And yet, we are friends).
If I want to know what my friends think about an issue, I ask. If I care about my neighbor's feelings, I shout across the fence. If I want to know what the "average American" feels, or how a certain segment reacted to something, I want survey/poll data. I want a smart person on the radio to analyze it for me. I don't want to hear interviews with people on the street for more than 2 minutes (and only then if heavily edited) and I never want just anyone to call in.
You know why? Because people whom I have to assume are perfectly intelligent and articulate in regular life turn into inarticulate monsters when they call in. They add in extraneous "ums" and "you knows". They ramble away from their point (if they even had one). They self-importantly agree along with the response or interject inappropriately. Too often they are mouth breathers. Furthermore, because of the delay between picking up a phone to call and when actually going on air (assuming these calls are screened first), the callers almost always have a question or comment about something from minutes earlier in the conversation, or that responds to a generic question as opposed to the ongoing conversation between host, guest, and audience.
848's new format has ruined my morning routine. I feel very strongly about this. No more call-in shows, please. Or if you must have people call in, please instruct them to ask a succint question and then take their answer off the air. If you really want audience interaction, if you think that is the future of radio, have people email in their questions, but for the love of god, do not let them talk into the airwaves.
Obviously this does not even begin to address conservative talk radio. That is a different subject entirely, and there is not enough time for me to describe the strength of my feelings on that issue.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Hot Guys
You know what really gets my goat? When extremely hot guys chat you up at lunch and make suggestions about your menu choices and are extremely hot, and then DON'T ask for your phone number. Uh, excuse me? Don't you know that you and me and your sexy Australian accent belong together?
This post might perhaps approximate an experience I had today, and may be peripherally related to my not having had a date in 7 months.
This post might perhaps approximate an experience I had today, and may be peripherally related to my not having had a date in 7 months.
Friday, January 23, 2009
The Giving Tree
This book by Shel Silverstein is inappropriate for children and adults. The boy and the Giving Tree are not friends; the boy abuses the Giving Tree, manipulates it and takes advantage of its kindness and generosity repeatedly. These are not lessons to teach our children. The Giving Tree should literally be renamed the Doormat Tree, and all people who are abused should have to read it as part of a program of aversion therapy.
Sexy Mrs. Claus
Dear lord, how I hate "sexy Mrs. Clauses". I find them to be totally creepy and weird and upsetting. Why are we blending Maxim style sex appeal with a folk character for children? WHY?!? I also hate most every "sexy" Halloween costume, but that is pretty mainstream, and is a topic that I think has been pretty well covered in your feminist blogs the internet over. But Sexy Mrs. Claus must be stopped. Christmas is not sexy. It shouldn't be, and those who think "Christmas- a time of giving, family and peace... yeah, it could really use some sexy-times" are really screwed up, and are messing up one of my favorite holidays. Now, I know that many people much more conservative than myself have other problems with how Christmas is celebrated, and I know that many don't even celebrate the holiday and their gripes about the season are more legit than mine, but please- please- can we all agree that women dressed in red mini skirts with white fur trim, crop tops & elf hats are gross? Can we? In the spirit of Christmas?
Thursday, January 22, 2009
In America, it ends -ER
Obviously English is spoken in many countries. Equally obviously, though somewhat incomprehensibly, in those different countries the same words are spelled differently. For the purposes of this blog, let's not bother with why this happened or whether it makes any sense and rather just accept as fact that British and American spellings are different.
British English tends to add an extra U here or there (favourite, colour), swap a z for an s here or there (analyse), swap the number of ells (counselling, enrolment, jewellry) and so forth. Oh, and reverse the -re ending. So, lets see, it's centre in Britain, center in American. Metre, meter. Most importantly, in Britain the relevant word is spelled T-H-E-A-T-R-E. In America? Where I live? T-H-E-A-T-E-R.
I've heard every argument. That -re is the art form, -er the building. Vice-versa. That it "doesn't matter". Etc.
Well, here's the thing. It matters. Any American theater company that spells it -re sounds pretentious. This may not be fair, but it is true. And it's obnoxious.
Some exceptions:
a) your theater is dedicated to producing only works by British playrights.
b) your founding artists are in fact British.
Otherwise? I'm going to judge. It may be trivial, but I feel strongly.
British English tends to add an extra U here or there (favourite, colour), swap a z for an s here or there (analyse), swap the number of ells (counselling, enrolment, jewellry) and so forth. Oh, and reverse the -re ending. So, lets see, it's centre in Britain, center in American. Metre, meter. Most importantly, in Britain the relevant word is spelled T-H-E-A-T-R-E. In America? Where I live? T-H-E-A-T-E-R.
I've heard every argument. That -re is the art form, -er the building. Vice-versa. That it "doesn't matter". Etc.
Well, here's the thing. It matters. Any American theater company that spells it -re sounds pretentious. This may not be fair, but it is true. And it's obnoxious.
Some exceptions:
a) your theater is dedicated to producing only works by British playrights.
b) your founding artists are in fact British.
Otherwise? I'm going to judge. It may be trivial, but I feel strongly.
Ayelet Waldman, my nemesis
Back when I had a terrible office job (another post), I used to read a lot on the internet. A lot. I would start every morning with my favorite online magazines, including Slate and Salon.com. In around 2005, Salon hired a new editor, who in turn hired a writer named Ayelet Waldman to write a weekly column about "Life," an idiotically named catch-all section of the website dedicated to things that relate to culture, family, women's issues and so on.
Ayelet Waldman is a mystery writer who is married to Michael Chabon (who a lot of people apparently mistakenly believe is gay). According to her articles, she writes these mommy mysteries and is obsessed with her husband, has like three or four kids and a complicated relationship with her anti-depressant medication. Now, I am as crazy as the next person, so far be it for me to judge this woman who has a ton of kids and an intense career and a husband who is extremely successful.
But Ayelet Waldman is ridiculous. She is completely ridiculous. She writes these articles about how she loves her husband more than her kids, how she wants her son to be gay, how she can't decide if she should go off her medication while she is pregnant with her baby. Honestly, all topics that could be treated well by someone with a lightly less tweaked vision of our world. But Ayelet just shanks it. Completely and utterly.
So every Monday, I would show up at mu horrible job, and I would eagerly await her insanity to be posted on Salon. God, it was amazing. Without fail, I would be so desperately offended by her lunacy, her selfishness, he utter encapsulation of what a Midwestern friend of mine calls "that Berkely upper-class mom thing" that was one of the reasons I had ostensible moved to Chicago so many years ago from the Bay Area. She made me feel bad for being a lady, feel bad for being from the Bay Area. But mainly she made me feel bad for her kids. And weirdly, for Michael Chabon.
She is my nemesis. There is nothing more I can say about it. Her columns were taken off Salon because they caused such a furor among the elitist feminist set of readers who would stop buying Dagoba chocolates advertised on the Salon website. She continues to write. I am sure she loves Obama. She is still my nemesis.
Check out her website! Seriously, it's amazing.
http://www.ayeletwaldman.com/
Ayelet Waldman is a mystery writer who is married to Michael Chabon (who a lot of people apparently mistakenly believe is gay). According to her articles, she writes these mommy mysteries and is obsessed with her husband, has like three or four kids and a complicated relationship with her anti-depressant medication. Now, I am as crazy as the next person, so far be it for me to judge this woman who has a ton of kids and an intense career and a husband who is extremely successful.
But Ayelet Waldman is ridiculous. She is completely ridiculous. She writes these articles about how she loves her husband more than her kids, how she wants her son to be gay, how she can't decide if she should go off her medication while she is pregnant with her baby. Honestly, all topics that could be treated well by someone with a lightly less tweaked vision of our world. But Ayelet just shanks it. Completely and utterly.
So every Monday, I would show up at mu horrible job, and I would eagerly await her insanity to be posted on Salon. God, it was amazing. Without fail, I would be so desperately offended by her lunacy, her selfishness, he utter encapsulation of what a Midwestern friend of mine calls "that Berkely upper-class mom thing" that was one of the reasons I had ostensible moved to Chicago so many years ago from the Bay Area. She made me feel bad for being a lady, feel bad for being from the Bay Area. But mainly she made me feel bad for her kids. And weirdly, for Michael Chabon.
She is my nemesis. There is nothing more I can say about it. Her columns were taken off Salon because they caused such a furor among the elitist feminist set of readers who would stop buying Dagoba chocolates advertised on the Salon website. She continues to write. I am sure she loves Obama. She is still my nemesis.
Check out her website! Seriously, it's amazing.
http://www.ayeletwaldman.com/
Balloon Pants
I'm sorry, why are these popular again? I remember as a child, when my parents would take me to Grateful Dead concerts, and I always thought that Jerry Garcia's jam pants were a huge mistake only barely pulled off by a former heroin addict diabetic. Basically, only Jerry Garcia could ever wear clothes like this in public, because he didn't care. But now, all women are suppose to look hot and skinny in JAM PANTS made of tweed. Sick.
Also, tapered at the ankles. What women's magazine would be okay with that? Hasn't What Not to Wear been harping on the evils of tapered-leg pants for its entire run on TLC? It's not the hypocrisy, it' the audacity with which the fashion industry perpetuates its criminal levels of bad taste on women over a size 2.
photo courtesy of Avante Guide, and possibly some satanic designer.
Welcome
We have, occasionally, been told that our opinions are perhaps a trifle too strong on certain matters.
We, in short, are judgmental.
About trivial things.
Enjoy.
We, in short, are judgmental.
About trivial things.
Enjoy.
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