World, it is time to talk about an important problem, and that is hugging. Why does everyone feel like they need to hug people nowadays? Listen. I don't know you that well. I don't need to come into close personal contact with you. It's not my thing. Quit trying to make hugs happen. I hate that. I hate the idea that I'm under some obligation to hug total strangers. I hate the idea that if I don't hug them, I'm somehow mean, or unkind. It's very nice to meet you, but how about we shake hands?
And whatever happened to hand shakes? Do people just not do that anymore? My Tupperware lady discovered I don't like hugging people I don't really know so she decided to fistbump me. I was totally confused. It was both hilarious and sad and so, so awkward. Really? A nice handshake wouldn't do it? A high five? Are we so confused by people having personal space boundaries that it turns into a last minute panic trying to find an alternative?
I hug people. People I like. People I know. People I am related to. People I have met one time? NO HUGS FOR YOU. And that bothers people. Why? Why do those people even want a hug? To enforce some imaginary level of intimacy that we haven't actually enjoyed? My personal space is valuable to me, and that means I don't want you all up in it.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Thursday, November 4, 2010
A Mini Moment of Crankiness
The fifteen ho-diddly million side bends I did yesterday in aerobics = major pain tonight. I feel like I have a stitch in my side...from all the sitting, clearly. CURSE YOU, SIDE BENDS!
Are we still pretending thongs are comfortable?
Ok, folks. While we are on the subject of women's wear, let's talk about underpants. Men basically have three choices. Boxers, briefs, and for the adventurous, boxer briefs. Sure, I know there are man things and banana hammocks, but those are outliers. Most people dismiss them as only for the weirdest or skeeviest among us.
But ladies' underwear. Here is a partial list: Briefs. Modern Briefs. Cheekies. Bikini. Thong. Boyshorts. Hiphuggers. V -Strings. Hipster. G-String. Hi-Cut. I...I am a lady, and I don't know what some of these are. Granny panties are even on the list, so how do I know if I'm accidentally buying them. And by accidentally, I mean on purpose, because no one is going to see them, and they are totally the best. What is a V-String? And why...why...WHY are we still pretending that deliberately giving ourselves wedgies by wearing thongs is anything but uncomfortable?No one wants to see your thong peeking out of your jeans, and no one needs to know that you're so worried about panty lines that you've gone with a g-string (and just what is the difference between a G-String, a V-String and a thong, exactly?). You want to know how to avoid VPL? Wear the dreaded granny panty in a size that fits you correctly, and stop wearing your pants so tight they cut off circulation. Muffin top doesn't mean you're fat, it means your pants are too small, by the way. Just a thought.
And this isn't even addressing the issue of bras. Full coverage, half coverage, demi-cups, underwire, soft cups, padded cups, minimizers, WonderBras, push-ups, strapless, racer back...ARGH! Is it any wonder that something like 75% of women are wearing the wrong bra size? Who has time to worry about size when you can't figure out what KIND of bra to wear? And let us not forget about sports bras, the best of which are so oppressive that you can't breathe, and the worst of which are basically no different that wearing an extra tank top.
And if you're worrying about who else is going to be seeing your panties? Well, as long as they are clean, and not full of holes, does it matter? Because ladies, if the guy who are sleeping with looks at your underwear and changes his mind...he probably doesn't deserve to see it anyway (and is imaginary).
But ladies' underwear. Here is a partial list: Briefs. Modern Briefs. Cheekies. Bikini. Thong. Boyshorts. Hiphuggers. V -Strings. Hipster. G-String. Hi-Cut. I...I am a lady, and I don't know what some of these are. Granny panties are even on the list, so how do I know if I'm accidentally buying them. And by accidentally, I mean on purpose, because no one is going to see them, and they are totally the best. What is a V-String? And why...why...WHY are we still pretending that deliberately giving ourselves wedgies by wearing thongs is anything but uncomfortable?No one wants to see your thong peeking out of your jeans, and no one needs to know that you're so worried about panty lines that you've gone with a g-string (and just what is the difference between a G-String, a V-String and a thong, exactly?). You want to know how to avoid VPL? Wear the dreaded granny panty in a size that fits you correctly, and stop wearing your pants so tight they cut off circulation. Muffin top doesn't mean you're fat, it means your pants are too small, by the way. Just a thought.
And this isn't even addressing the issue of bras. Full coverage, half coverage, demi-cups, underwire, soft cups, padded cups, minimizers, WonderBras, push-ups, strapless, racer back...ARGH! Is it any wonder that something like 75% of women are wearing the wrong bra size? Who has time to worry about size when you can't figure out what KIND of bra to wear? And let us not forget about sports bras, the best of which are so oppressive that you can't breathe, and the worst of which are basically no different that wearing an extra tank top.
And if you're worrying about who else is going to be seeing your panties? Well, as long as they are clean, and not full of holes, does it matter? Because ladies, if the guy who are sleeping with looks at your underwear and changes his mind...he probably doesn't deserve to see it anyway (and is imaginary).
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Abandon hope, all ye who enter here (here being the fitting room, of course)
This weekend I am going to visit my mother and among the many other things we have planned, we are going fabric shopping. I am a novice sewer. I started with skirts, moved up to aprons, and now I have my eye on pants. Why not just buy these things, you might ask. Well, as far as skirts and aprons go, you can get way better fabric with cooler patterns when you are making your own stuff than you ever could if you were buying off the rack. As far as pants go....
Any woman can tell you that shopping for pants is like descending to the 7th circle of hell. Actually it's more like the 8th circle of hell, because by the time you've tried on five pairs of pants and none of them fit, you feel like all clothing makers are frauds and pants sizes are lies and what is the problem? I recently tried on five pairs of pants all of them from the same manufacturer and found an 18 to be too big, a 26 to be too small, and a 20 to fit right in the waist and be so big in the legs that I looked like I was wearing a diaper and you want to talk about CRANKY? THAT will make you cranky. It makes no sense. (The irony here is that they were called Right Fit pants.) If I shop in one store, I'm an entirely different size than if I shop in another store.
People chalk this up to vanity sizing. I disagree. Sure, that's an aspect of it (and a ridiculous one. Hey, if we didn't put so much emphasis on being a size two, you wouldn't have to vanity size the clothes. People be a size 12 or 14 without hating themselves. Just a thought.), but it's definitely not the be all end all. Clothing sizes are so inconsistent. Ok. You want to vanity size me? FINE! Just be consistent. Manufacturers should be held to some kind of standard size chart.
And it's not just pants, although pants are the worst. It's underwear and shirts and shoes and it's all RIDICULOUS. I now wear, in shoes, anywhere from a size 8.5 to a size 10! I understand fluctuating a half size, even a full size up. I could accept that. But where does it end? How does it go from telling the person in the shoe store "can you bring me an 8" to "bring me one of each, I have no idea what size I wear." We're making ourselves crazy. We're making people in the service industry crazy. Every time you go to buy a piece of clothing, you have to try it on, probably in three different sizes going in both directions until you find one that works. Then they have to fold and replace everything you don't buy, and sometimes I don't buy anything because I get so tired of trying on clothes that I give up. Even men's sizes don't run true anymore, and those are generally based on measurements! HOW DOES THAT MAKE SENSE?
All I ask for is pants that fit, and if I have, I'll make them myself. And talk about cranky? Wait til you find out how I feel about pattern instructions.
Any woman can tell you that shopping for pants is like descending to the 7th circle of hell. Actually it's more like the 8th circle of hell, because by the time you've tried on five pairs of pants and none of them fit, you feel like all clothing makers are frauds and pants sizes are lies and what is the problem? I recently tried on five pairs of pants all of them from the same manufacturer and found an 18 to be too big, a 26 to be too small, and a 20 to fit right in the waist and be so big in the legs that I looked like I was wearing a diaper and you want to talk about CRANKY? THAT will make you cranky. It makes no sense. (The irony here is that they were called Right Fit pants.) If I shop in one store, I'm an entirely different size than if I shop in another store.
People chalk this up to vanity sizing. I disagree. Sure, that's an aspect of it (and a ridiculous one. Hey, if we didn't put so much emphasis on being a size two, you wouldn't have to vanity size the clothes. People be a size 12 or 14 without hating themselves. Just a thought.), but it's definitely not the be all end all. Clothing sizes are so inconsistent. Ok. You want to vanity size me? FINE! Just be consistent. Manufacturers should be held to some kind of standard size chart.
And it's not just pants, although pants are the worst. It's underwear and shirts and shoes and it's all RIDICULOUS. I now wear, in shoes, anywhere from a size 8.5 to a size 10! I understand fluctuating a half size, even a full size up. I could accept that. But where does it end? How does it go from telling the person in the shoe store "can you bring me an 8" to "bring me one of each, I have no idea what size I wear." We're making ourselves crazy. We're making people in the service industry crazy. Every time you go to buy a piece of clothing, you have to try it on, probably in three different sizes going in both directions until you find one that works. Then they have to fold and replace everything you don't buy, and sometimes I don't buy anything because I get so tired of trying on clothes that I give up. Even men's sizes don't run true anymore, and those are generally based on measurements! HOW DOES THAT MAKE SENSE?
All I ask for is pants that fit, and if I have, I'll make them myself. And talk about cranky? Wait til you find out how I feel about pattern instructions.
A brief political interlude
I had intended to make today's crankiness about yesterday's political tomfoolery.
I can't do it. Because RAND PAUL, people. I cannot address how incredibly crazy he is without losing my own mind. I will cuss and rave and froth and all for no reason, because you know what? We're stuck with him.
So instead. I will take a deep breath. Thank the people for electing Ben Chandler (d) and Jim Gray, Lexington's first opening gay mayor (it's progress!) and hope that this whole situation will finally light a fire under the democrats butts (or at least encourage them to grow a pair. seriously) and hope and pray for the best.
To those of you who voted, well done. To those of you who didn't? I strongly suggest you don't open your mouth to complain about politics of any nature for the next two years.
I'll be back later with a genuinely cranky post, folks.
I can't do it. Because RAND PAUL, people. I cannot address how incredibly crazy he is without losing my own mind. I will cuss and rave and froth and all for no reason, because you know what? We're stuck with him.
So instead. I will take a deep breath. Thank the people for electing Ben Chandler (d) and Jim Gray, Lexington's first opening gay mayor (it's progress!) and hope that this whole situation will finally light a fire under the democrats butts (or at least encourage them to grow a pair. seriously) and hope and pray for the best.
To those of you who voted, well done. To those of you who didn't? I strongly suggest you don't open your mouth to complain about politics of any nature for the next two years.
I'll be back later with a genuinely cranky post, folks.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Thanksgiving gets the shaft
It is November 2nd, and the only remnants of Halloween are the signs for half-off a variety of pumpkin and/or fang shaped candy. Of course, Halloween was basically over on October 30th because that's when Trick or Treat was. What's that? Halloween was actually Sunday? Tell it to someone who doesn't live in the Bible Belt, and move along. Naturally, this meant that when I went to the store on Sunday, the Christmas decorations were up.
This is because Thanksgiving gets the shaft. IF stores are carrying any Thanksgiving products at all, it's normally two dish towels and a slightly smushed papier mache turkey. The spell check would like you to know that's not how you spell smushed. I would like you to know that the spell check is wrong. If you have the guts to venture all the way back the craft section of your local Super Wal-Mart (smaaaaall tooooown liiiiiiiife) you might be blessed by the discovery of one type of ribbon printed with Thanksgiving is sparkly script shoved in amongst all the generic fall stuff. But wait! I see a cornucopia! That kind of counts! You just have to dig through the vast mounds of Christmas related tomfoolery to find it! Because Thanksgiving gets the shaft.
Some people, optimists, one might call them, like to say that this means that Thanksgiving is the last non-commercial holiday and we should embrace that time with our families as a day when the pressure to buy and give and spend! is off. Those people are not paying attention. Because Thanksgiving HAS been commercialized. In fact, Thanksgiving IS a commercial. It is one big advertisement for the day after Thanksgiving, also known as "You haven't finished your Christmas shopping? Better panic! Day" when every store in the area will put things on ridiculous mark down in the hopes of convincing you to do your shopping at 5 AM and risk being run over by someone who wants that Crock Pot just a little bit more than you do. The last time I went shopping on Black Friday my sister and I went to Toys R Us and I stood in line while she shopped. It was an excellent strategy that allowed me to entertain myself by watching a woman climb the shelves to get to a Cabbage Patch Kid (note: I cannot believe they still sell those. My nieces still have mine from when I was a kid. They have not gotten less hideous. I mean, I loved mine, but...What was with their faces?). While she was up there, people started yelling for her to throw them down dolls. Which resulted in her hanging from the shelf yelling "who wants a black baby boy?" Kind of hilarious, but not exactly in the spirit of familial bonding, as my mom was home in bed, my sister was trying to fight her way back from the art section and security was on the loud speaker saying "we can see you ma'am, please get down" because the store was so crowded they couldn't get to her.
So no, Thanksgiving is not the last uncommercialized holiday. Those of you who still aren't buying my argument should try watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, which is a treasured moment in my family and if they'd stop showing ads for Christmas shopping, you might get to see some of the balloons and floats. After the parade is over, you can argue over whether to watch football or the dog show. I argue for the dog show, because there will be plenty of time to nap AFTER the enormous meal is over. And really, football hasn't eve started at that point, it's just two hours of pregame in which you feel vaguely sorry for the Detroit Lions and wonder who the genius was who decided that they would have to play every single Thanksgiving and pregame actually the only thing more boring than actual game except maybe the postgame in which they talk about all the things that just happened that no one was actually watching because the sheer amounts of turkey, dressing and gravy has caused us to fall asleep.
Because Thanksgiving? Gets the shaft.
This is because Thanksgiving gets the shaft. IF stores are carrying any Thanksgiving products at all, it's normally two dish towels and a slightly smushed papier mache turkey. The spell check would like you to know that's not how you spell smushed. I would like you to know that the spell check is wrong. If you have the guts to venture all the way back the craft section of your local Super Wal-Mart (smaaaaall tooooown liiiiiiiife) you might be blessed by the discovery of one type of ribbon printed with Thanksgiving is sparkly script shoved in amongst all the generic fall stuff. But wait! I see a cornucopia! That kind of counts! You just have to dig through the vast mounds of Christmas related tomfoolery to find it! Because Thanksgiving gets the shaft.
Some people, optimists, one might call them, like to say that this means that Thanksgiving is the last non-commercial holiday and we should embrace that time with our families as a day when the pressure to buy and give and spend! is off. Those people are not paying attention. Because Thanksgiving HAS been commercialized. In fact, Thanksgiving IS a commercial. It is one big advertisement for the day after Thanksgiving, also known as "You haven't finished your Christmas shopping? Better panic! Day" when every store in the area will put things on ridiculous mark down in the hopes of convincing you to do your shopping at 5 AM and risk being run over by someone who wants that Crock Pot just a little bit more than you do. The last time I went shopping on Black Friday my sister and I went to Toys R Us and I stood in line while she shopped. It was an excellent strategy that allowed me to entertain myself by watching a woman climb the shelves to get to a Cabbage Patch Kid (note: I cannot believe they still sell those. My nieces still have mine from when I was a kid. They have not gotten less hideous. I mean, I loved mine, but...What was with their faces?). While she was up there, people started yelling for her to throw them down dolls. Which resulted in her hanging from the shelf yelling "who wants a black baby boy?" Kind of hilarious, but not exactly in the spirit of familial bonding, as my mom was home in bed, my sister was trying to fight her way back from the art section and security was on the loud speaker saying "we can see you ma'am, please get down" because the store was so crowded they couldn't get to her.
So no, Thanksgiving is not the last uncommercialized holiday. Those of you who still aren't buying my argument should try watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, which is a treasured moment in my family and if they'd stop showing ads for Christmas shopping, you might get to see some of the balloons and floats. After the parade is over, you can argue over whether to watch football or the dog show. I argue for the dog show, because there will be plenty of time to nap AFTER the enormous meal is over. And really, football hasn't eve started at that point, it's just two hours of pregame in which you feel vaguely sorry for the Detroit Lions and wonder who the genius was who decided that they would have to play every single Thanksgiving and pregame actually the only thing more boring than actual game except maybe the postgame in which they talk about all the things that just happened that no one was actually watching because the sheer amounts of turkey, dressing and gravy has caused us to fall asleep.
Because Thanksgiving? Gets the shaft.
Monday, November 1, 2010
In which I am cranky about pictures on Etsy
I love Etsy. Now, you may think that that is a weak way for a blog about crankiness to begin it's NaBloPoMo journey, but you would be wrong, and your judginess is irritating me. There are many things that I love that make me cranky, including the SyFy channel and most if not all of my family.
Now, for those of you who are not familiar with Etsy (and what rock have you been under?), it is a site that allows people to post their handmade crafts, their craft supplies (love the wool from the sheep your raised yourself, you crazy hippies) and their vintage items (vintage doesn't mean magic. Vintage doesn't even mean valuable, so dial it down on the $200 price tag for your grandma's salt and pepper shakers there, Antiques Roadshow.)
I love handcrafts, and I have purchased many things off of Etsy. I also love to window shop on the site. In order to do this, I need to look at pictures. And those pictures need to be good pictures. And by good, I don't mean "artsy" or "fartsy". Don't take the pictures with the Hipstamatic app on your iPhone. Don't take them from weird angles. Don't try to sell me a scarf by not wearing a shirt (and are you Michael Stipes? Wipe that crap off your face). The clothing sellers seem to be especially bad about it. If I am buying a skirt or dress, I need to know the length of the hem and waist size and if it will make my butt look good. I do not need to know that it looks totally awesome when you lay draped all over a couch that probably came from Ikea or Goodwill. I appreciate that you have fabulous collar bones but that's not going to convince me to pay 78 dollars for that dress (although in fairness, nothing would convince me to pay 78 dollars for that dress).
I want to know what I am getting. I am fairly sure I'm not going to get a skinny girl, Joan Holloway or your bra. And if all I come away with about the dress is that you look great in it? I'm not sold.
Now, for those of you who are not familiar with Etsy (and what rock have you been under?), it is a site that allows people to post their handmade crafts, their craft supplies (love the wool from the sheep your raised yourself, you crazy hippies) and their vintage items (vintage doesn't mean magic. Vintage doesn't even mean valuable, so dial it down on the $200 price tag for your grandma's salt and pepper shakers there, Antiques Roadshow.)
I love handcrafts, and I have purchased many things off of Etsy. I also love to window shop on the site. In order to do this, I need to look at pictures. And those pictures need to be good pictures. And by good, I don't mean "artsy" or "fartsy". Don't take the pictures with the Hipstamatic app on your iPhone. Don't take them from weird angles. Don't try to sell me a scarf by not wearing a shirt (and are you Michael Stipes? Wipe that crap off your face). The clothing sellers seem to be especially bad about it. If I am buying a skirt or dress, I need to know the length of the hem and waist size and if it will make my butt look good. I do not need to know that it looks totally awesome when you lay draped all over a couch that probably came from Ikea or Goodwill. I appreciate that you have fabulous collar bones but that's not going to convince me to pay 78 dollars for that dress (although in fairness, nothing would convince me to pay 78 dollars for that dress).
I want to know what I am getting. I am fairly sure I'm not going to get a skinny girl, Joan Holloway or your bra. And if all I come away with about the dress is that you look great in it? I'm not sold.
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