- Can’t get anything past you.
- Sorry?
To the man who accused me of being a “fucking white bitch” on the street out of the blue
- Can’t get anything past you.
- Sorry?
Category Archives: why?
Cruz wins the Iowa Caucuses, scares me
Last night ended with a dual cliffhanger for me. (I go to bed at 10:30, because I’m secretly eighty years old.) First, The Bachelor culminated in a “to be continued” BEFORE THE ROSE CEREMONY. Also, Hillary Clinton and Ted Cruz had marginal leads in the Iowa caucuses. When I woke up this morning, I found out that those marginal leads had become clear victories overnight, and that Punxsutawney Phil did not see his shadow, which means early spring and also that people will be quoting Bill Murray all day, but that would have happened whether he saw his shadow or not. There was still no resolution to the Bachelor conundrum.
On the plus side:
-Hillary’s emails addressed to me personally with the subject “hi” and “no subject,” in which she warned me that Bernie Sanders was outspending her and implored me to donate money, were ultimately just scare tactics. God, Hillary, I already gave you $15.00. What more do you want?
-Early spring! How early? I’m not clear on that. Somebody tell me the rules?
On the minus side:
-I still have to hear a lot about a twenty-two-year-old movie.
-I have to wait until next week to find out to whom Ben is giving roses, except for Jubilee, the army vet, who already got kicked off.
-A man who embraces carpet-bombing is a serious contender for president.
So yeah, rough day.
I went on a dog adoption site because I am a masochist
So after reading about a pet adoption site styled like an online dating app in The Daily Dot, I went on the site, PawsLikeMe.com, took the matching quiz, and fell deeply in love with my matches. This is all for naught because
- I live in New York and don’t have space or a backyard
- My commute to work is about 45 minutes so I can’t come home to walk said dog
- My apartment doesn’t allow pets
- My roommate is allergic
That said, I really, really want a puppy. Guys, there’s one who’s cocking his head and staring at me mournfully all “please love me.” I get you, dude. Don’t we all just want to be loved? His foster mom describes him as “friendly, loyal, cuddly, and smart.” I am all those things, too! We would be BEST FRIENDS.
Anyway, if you want a puppy and have the means to support and house one, check out this site. If you want the puppy and don’t have the appropriate resources, stay away, because you will end up crying in the bathroom at work like I did.
A trip to the Apple store to buy some 90-year-olds iPhones and the actual panic attack I had as a result: Part II
I know everyone here is an avid follower of my blog, so of course you remember the time I accompanied my grandfather and his girlfriend to the Apple Store to buy some iPhones. Did you anticipate a part II? Because of course there is a part II.
So welcome to part II of the iPhone debacle, in which my grandfather loses the device that he doesn’t actually use, but to which he has become very attached over the preceding months. (He likes the flashlight feature. It helps him read menus in restaurants. So basically, this is a $700 flashlight.)
So one day I was at work, and received the most chilling GChat from my mom: “You got insurance for Papa’s phone, right?”
I had, of course. But here’s the problem: insurance doesn’t cover loss.
Anyway, this was like a week-long debacle, but at least this time I didn’t have a starring technical role in the production.
He later found it in his pants pocket. He had changed his pants.
I’m not as excited about Boehner resigning as you might think
John Boehner and I have a few things in common. We both cry a lot, for instance. Republicans think we’re too liberal. (Admittedly, one of us is probably a little more liberal than the other.) We’re both into the government funding Planned Parenthood (Again, one of us may be slightly more excited about that than the other.) That’s probably where the similarities end. But now that the Boehner is resigning because the GOP is like, “You aren’t exercising enough control over women’s uteruses” (or is it uteri?), I’m concerned. Mostly because I’m terrified to find out whom they will choose next. Wikipedia tells me that Kevin McCarthy, the most likely pick, was one of the three founding members of the GOP Young Guns Program, which I didn’t even know existed but sounds scary as fuck. Also, he has pledged to vote against any Global Warming legislation that would raise taxes (as you do). And finally, homeboy wants to ban all abortions foreva and eva, pinky-swear. Where did they find this guy? It’s almost like the GOP crafted this dude out of clay and imbued him with a wish list of attributes Pygmalion-style.
Anyway, I’m foreseeing a future in which he is Speaker and Marco Rubio is president, and now I need to practice the deep-breathing exercises my therapist taught me.
I miss old school American Girl
Felicity was my spirit American Girl. Yours was probably Samantha, and you’re wrong. Felicity basically could have prevented the Revolutionary War if her parents weren’t so mad at her for like stealing her own guitar. Samantha was an heiress at the age of nine, and her big accomplishment was befriending an orphan, I guess to show how generous of spirit she was to hang out with people who weren’t rich like her.
But Samantha is still better than those “girls of today” they have now. The whole point of American Girls was that they taught us about history and girl power. They’ve retired most of the originals (i.e. best ones), including Felicity and Addy, who were both pretty badass. My grandpa gave me Felicity for Chanukkah when I was seven, and then my other grandparents gave me Addy, so the competition for my love worked out pretty well for me.
Fun fact: when I was eight, I was the flower girl in my aunt’s wedding and wore Felicity’s Christmas dress (specially made in the same fabric as the bridesmaids’ dresses). I was so cool.
Also, I wrote to Pleasant Company and asked them to create a Jewish American Girl. They didn’t, but they did introduce a Chanukkah set, which was a blue and white outfit (because Israel) and a mini menorah and fake gelt. I guess they have a Jewish American Girl now, but it took them fifteen years after that letter, so maybe I don’t deserve congratulations for effecting change.
In summary, the world was a much better place when Pleasant Company was in charge. Also, the dolls only cost $80 then, and I get that that’s super expensive for a doll, but now they cost like $100,000, and okay inflation, but still.
Shout-out to Betches Love This, who recently ranked the American Girl dolls by betchiness and inspired this post. (I still disagree with their rankings, though.)
Thoughts I had while watching the Bachelorette finale
-When are they going to announce that Ben H. is the next bachelor?
-When they do that, can we start calling him “Ben”?
-“I know I should be asking her father for her hand…” So feminism is dead.
-“Now I can stand up and defend my girl.” Now feminism is rolling over in its grave.
-They’re really not going to tell us Ben H. is the Bachelor yet?
-Although if they have a Bachelor who is younger than I am it will hurt my feelings.
P.S. I watched all three hours in realtime (thus with commercials) while sporadically doing crunches last night, so I have no right to judge anyone.
And I think this message speaks for itself
“I’m insatiably curious- do you by chance ever repeatedly attempt to tuck your (curly) hair behind your ear? If so, do you merely push it back or do you grab it and deliberately guide it around your ears? I’d love to serenade you with classical music in exchange for the opportunity to watch you doing the latter ;)”
-Stranger I will not be dating, who compels me to go take a shower…or straighten my hair or something
(Seriously though, I just copied and pasted that from my inbox.)
A trip to the Apple store to buy some 90-year-olds iPhones and the actual panic attack I had as a result
First, a special shoutout to the Apple Store employee who walked my grandfather and his girlfriend through the really pleasurable experience of purchasing iPhones a.k.a. “the most patient man in the world.”
This past weekend, my mother and I visited my grandfather (E) and his girlfriend (S) in Florida, an ideal place to vacation in July. My father, who was not present and thus did not have to deal with the consequences of his actions, suggested they buy iPhones, these 90-year-olds who previously had flip phones that they never turned on and kept in the car at all times. (See future posts for notes on their driving.)
We spent 3.5 hours at the Apple Store, during which the following things were said:
(In attempt to sign on the screen): “Can I start over?”
(In response to “It’s free to make and receive calls”): “Can I call Europe?”
“If we’re keeping our phone numbers do we have to give new numbers to everybody?”
“Why are we doing this?”
Here are some things E and S do not know:
-Their social security numbers
-Where their licenses are
-Their zip code
-The difference between an email address and a password
-Any of their passwords
-Where they put their chargers
Day 2 resulted in another trip to the Apple store and then Verizon, because, of course, something went wrong. It was between these two stores that I had a meltdown with real tears.
To the woman who was giving her children Starbursts on the train this morning
My mother denied me sugary cereal when I was growing up. Of course I resented her for it at the time. I wanted Lucky Charms, Cocoa Puffs, Cinnamon Toast Crunch. When my older brother went away for summer camp, he wrote me long letters about the dessert he was eating for breakfast, and I was jealous.
Did it make me a healthy eater as an adult? Not really. Could I really go for a bowl of Lucky Charms right now? Totally. But I appreciate my mother’s efforts towards keeping me healthy and not fat. So thanks, Mom, for not feeding me candy for breakfast.
Now a question for the woman who was actually feeding her kids candy for breakfast: Do you really dislike their camp counselors that much?
Come on. Lucky Charms are one thing. Straight up Starbursts? I know I’m not a parent, but I think I’m entitled to judge you for that. You’re not the one who has to deal with the consequences, after all. Think of those poor high school/college students who have to play charades with them all day, and now they have to do it while your kids are hopped up on sugar. (Side note: I could fill a book with my camp counseloring and babysitting stories. Another time.)