Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Working stiff

Up for work. Have a meeting today with some head honchos in the school district. I've been led to believe it's good news, although any meeting of this sort automatically makes my stomach clenchy and makes me think thoughts along the line of, "I'm getting fired."

Although things like this exist on tumblrs I like, which makes the morning better.

There's also this sort-of-decent article from Scientific American about poly, and how communication in relationships = good. You don't say.

Monday, February 25, 2013

Clock is ticking

Since Now-hubby and I are getting to a certain age (read: late 20s), people find it their business to occasionally ask us about our plans to have a baby. Because, you know, we've been married for a few years and baby is like...the next step on the "things to do" life list.

There are a few tropes in society that fucking irritate me, and the top 3 are:

1. Having sex with a person = immediate love. Also that you must somehow try to make things "serious" between the two of you now.

2. Women and men are completely separate species and entirely unable to ever understand each other or communicate in any meaningful way.

3. Children are annoying and a lot of work, but "worth it" in some grander scheme.

For the last one, it's always the "worth it" part that gets to me. I went thrift shopping at Goodwill this past Friday (made out like a rock star - two pairs of jeans, one awesome skirt, a fun summer-type dress, and finally a proper LBD to wear to "fancy" events), and while I was waiting for a check-out lane to open, watched a child climb over the check-out counter behind the register until one of the Goodwill employees had to say something about the kid not being allowed back there. Meanwhile Mom is all:

There are people that I used to know who had exciting things to talk about. Now they have a child and talking to them is like talking to a zombie. Number one they're too freaking tired from meeting every stupid need of their kid to have any time for thought about themselves. So number two whenever they do have a chance to open their mouths for any other purpose but correcting and guiding their child's development, it's all they want to talk about even with other adults.

Every once in awhile I'll trick myself into thinking I want a baby. I'll see something like this and be all, "yeah, that wouldn't be so bad."

And then I have to work very hard to remind myself that the video was taken in one minute in the life of those babies, the rest of which probably looks more like this:

Now-hubby compared having a baby to owning a really unreliable cell phone, which is a lot nicer than the analogy I usually use when I talk about having children (which is willingly entering into an abusive relationship). I just...anything that sucks that amount of time and energy out of your life without any sort of reliable outcome wasn't "worth it."

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Bun in the oven

Few things in life make me absolutely Zen chill out as baking. I'm not like a crazy expert. The first time I made egg whites peak I may have taken a moment to do a victory dance because I had finally figured it out.

May have forgotten to make the fork hatching on the last batch of peanut butter cookies tonight, but that's a secret just between you and I, loyal readers.

I like every step of the baking process. Amassing ingredients, the way they blend when mixed together, the way my arms get sore from mixing sometimes (I'm pretty against electric mixers, not for any specific reason, just if I don't feel I really need to use one, I don't). Tasting along the way to make sure that everything is as it should be, and the freaking amazing smell of something baking as it permeates the whole house.

Saturday, February 16, 2013

Riding coattails

Been watching the new season of Project Runway recently. We're thinking of you, Gunnar, up in Project Runway heaven.

Also, ANTM's next season will apparently be all dudes. Which I'm sure Tyra will still find time for a fucking entire episode devoted to some "trademark" thing that she does that's not actually relevant to anything anywhere.

I'll just let Azmarie take it from here.

Related, here's a neat article from Time about a lady who does male modeling. Awesome sauce.

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Sports. You'll be good at them.

One day Now-hubby and I were out for dinner/drinks and stumbled across Reebok's Crossfit Games on one of the big screens at the restaurant. Specifically the women's events, which left us both with our forks halfway to our mouths and drooling like idiots.

Here's a fantastic link to an article about women's bodies in the media, also with a good perspective on male/female gaze. You know, when you're done ogling the pic above. Take your time.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Chesire cat moon

There's a perfect one out tonight. Which seems fitting, as I've been feeling a bit like this recently.

There's a specific reason that I have a tattoo of Alice meeting the Cheshire Cat. The whole encounter is incredibly pointless yet also gets Alice exactly where she needs to go. Really, the Chesire Cat's the only one in the entire story who gives Alice anything but a complete run-around when they're having a conversation (yeah, he's kind of a condescending dick about it, but he at least gives her some semblance of direction).


In reference to having a discussion with Frisbee recently about how the word "date" means entirely too many things (all credit to GWS).

Not entirely related, but I liked it quite a bit, so you get some excerpt from Terry Moore's afterword to Strangers In Paradise: I Dream of You.

I wanted to show that we really do need each other, that maybe men and women don't have a lot in common, but we're both here and we really need to try and get along. And we really ought to admit that there is nothing like the touch of the man or woman who loves you.


I mean, try actually standing next to a real woman (man) and really, like, talk to them, you know? Don't check out her breasts when she's not looking, don't check out his butt when he walks away. Quit hunting each other for a moment and talk, soul to soul. We might forget what the media told us to think. We might actually grow to like each other. We might even fall in love.

- - - 

Although I don't necessarily see "hunting" as entirely mutually exclusive from "soul talking" with somebody...I still like the message.

Saturday, February 9, 2013

How do you do and shake hands

Went on a pretty awesome date last night, which is always fun. They guy's a monogamist, I'm expressly not. But it's like I always say (or at least have said since Now-hubby made me watch this movie when we were first dating):

It's not completely impossible for the two sides to get along. Especially if meetings happen to involve lots of crinkle fries, adorable blushing smiles, and being shushed in the changing rooms at Target.

Here's a pretty decent article from Mr. Schwyzer on the subject of mono vs. poly.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Picture of a girl

I got my nails painted tonight in a color that is supremely reminiscent to the color they were when I went to my Senior year prom. This was fairly unintentional on my part, but the more I look at the color, the more I think about it. That prom was the first time I ever got my nails professionally "done." I remember the woman on the other side of the bench tsking as she surveyed my bitten-to-the-quick fingernails. Which is exactly what happened when I started going for regular manicures last month. Consider it sort of a New Year's Resolution (if I did those) that I don't want to have my fingers covered with band-aids anymore because I've picked my cuticles completely off. Also because I've got a little extra income coming in from working at Curves, and I want to use some of that in selfish ways that are purely focused on myself. Okay, so I'm using almost 100% of it in selfish ways focused on myself, and the manicures are just one slice of that pie chart.

I spent a lot of my formative years (see: high school and part of college) fighting to differentiate myself from the "norm." I wasn't that girl.

I wouldn't tell people until I knew I could really trust them (which, for me, is a process that could take years) that one of the first CDs I ever owned was Shania Twain or that I actually liked the movie Legally Blonde. Those were things I never told anybody about, because somehow in my mind they defied the image of myself that I had built up as this tough, sassy, queer chick who sweated along with the men on summer crew and fucked on the first date if she felt like it. I saw it as two completely different sides of myself, and it was damaging to admit those other preferences. They were going to tarnish my reputation or some such bullshit.

As difficult as it was to come out as "different," it was an entirely more difficult process to re-acknowledge the "mainstream" parts of myself after I had the whole "being different" thing settled.

I've reached a stage now where I'm pretty unapologetic about myself regardless of what aspect of myself I'm talking about. It's stopped being a contradictory thing that I feel like I have to excuse or somehow apologize for. "Oh, yeah, I get my nails done on a regular basis but I also really like eating bacon cheeseburgers." As if those two things are somehow mutually exclusive, and liking one makes it completely impossible for me to like the other.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013


So, the district decided to buy the student I work with an iPad. The district rep explained that it was supposed to be mainly used as a communication aid. It has an app on it where essentially my student can click on different pictures of things to put together sentences and then this little robot voice will read the sentence for her. We (as in, the teacher and I - my student can't hear the little robot voice) had a great deal of fun going through all the voices available. "Tommy the bad guy" was a close contender, but we eventually just settled with one of the generic default "female" voices. No, I'm not making up the "Tommy the bad guy." That's what the voice was called. When you played the sample, he said something like, "Hi, my name is Tommy and I sound like a bad guy."

The main reasoning behind the app is that the student I work with is Deaf, so she communicates pretty exclusively through American Sign Language. Which virtually nobody except for other Deaf people understands. So the app is supposed to give her a "voice" when she's trying to communicate with the hearing people around her. She can't hear the voice, but the people around her can. That's helpful to those around her, but not necessarily for her. I guess it's supposed to be a more independent voice vs. the voice I already provide by interpreting for her.

The main issue I have is the app is still a one-sided communication modality. If she uses Sign Language, most people are not likely to know either what she's expressing or how to express themselves to her. If she uses the app, she can express herself, but people still can't really express themselves to her unless they're versed in how the app works and unless my student can read the sentences the other person's put together, which she can't. Her reading skills are at about a preschool level. So it doesn't really do her a lot of good to be able to say, "hello, how are you?" to somebody if that person then has absolutely no way to answer her question.

It's not communication, it's just sort of putting a thought out there in the void. That's an incredibly frustrating and isolating world to live in - one where people are ignorant to the way you express yourself so you never really have anybody to talk to.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Keeping track

I've recently started tracking calories. I've lost about 30 something pounds in the past 3 years, so it's not exactly because I need to lose any more weight, I'm just generally trying to keep track of what I'm eating during a day. I use the loseit app, which is pretty fun and stuff. I like that I can scan bar codes on most foods and just have it show up how many calories are in that thing. Minor point of annoyance is eating at Subway, when I had to input the entire fucking sandwich part by part (wheat bread, turkey, spinach, tomatoes, etc. etc.). It took me like 20 damn minutes just to put in one 6" sandwich. Also, Curves workouts give me a specific daily calorie loss dependent on the workout, but the app doesn't have adjustable workout calories, so I have to just get as close as I can.

But then there's this "exercise", which is pretty hilarious:

There are three different "intensities" available: passive, general, and active. For future reference, you can make out with somebody for 3 hours and only burn 65 calories. Half an hour of "active" sex burns just as many. If you make out for 3 hours and then have half an hour of active sex, you've burned 130 calories!

Friday, February 1, 2013

Playing doctor

We need to take a break so I can talk about how incredibly sexy my optometrist is. Like...holy shit sexy.

I would add "optometrist" to my fetish list, but it's only my specific optometrist that I have dirty fantasies about. It's a very teenage girl crush where just thinking about him makes me all like this.

I'm fucking reading Dresden Files because he told me it was a good series (I'm pretty meh about it.)

But if I read it then that means we will have something to talk about and then he will fall in love with me and we can touch each other's lips together. That sounds totally ultra stupid, but seriously it's that kind of crush.

Irrational, stupid, and completely libido-based. He's an ultra-cute, nerdy ginger who gets very close to me in a dark room, and my brain sort of malfunctions around that.

He mentioned a "girl he dated this summer" today when I went in for my annual eye exam, and I seriously felt my stomach drop because he's supposed to be with me damnit. Then he said they broke up and I was flying in the air with happiness.

I fantasize about him sneaking naked pictures into the eye exam.

Then he pushes me back into the exam chair, and then fucking me in a completely awesome and sweaty way.

I make fucking terrible jokes around him and then when he laughs at them I get all stupid and blushy.

It's one of those things where if we ever did fuck it would either be really terrible and disappointing, or so completely awesome that I would literally turn into jello with how intense my orgasms would be.