a trip to the office across from my office
1. We moved. Tolstoy wrote, “Happy moves are all alike; every unhappy move is unhappy in its own way.” Or maybe that wasn’t quite what he said, but you get what I’m saying. This move turned unhappy in its own way when J dropped the freakin’ television on her foot, and I had to spend five delirious and un-air conditioned hours cleaning our old apartment by myself on Saturday night while she whined about blah blah blah couldn’t move her toes blah blah blah swelled up to the size of a football blah blah blah soft tissue damage blah blah blah emergency room. What a baby. On the upshot, she gets to snap at zygote Tufts students when they don’t offer a seat to someone who’s, y’know, on crutches. That part is hilarious.
2. Speaking of zygote college kids, I went to the Porter Square Shaws last night and almost shot up the place, it was so amazingly packed with twelve-year-olds making back to school grocery shopping trips. Hell is being trapped in a sea of shopping carts full of pre-cut carrot and celery sticks and frozen pre-cooked boneless skinless chicken breasts. Some fetus tried to argue with me about whether or not I had cut in line in front of him at the deli counter, coming between him and his half gallon of pre-made macaroni salad. Reader, I almost clocked him.
(Ironically, I had come straight from the gym and was wearing the one piece of collegiate itema that I own, a ratty nine-year-old t-shirt from my alma mater. I felt really old. Not that I’m immune to first day of school syndrome, what with yesterday being the beginning of the first week of September and my first day at work after moving into a new place, I wore a corduroy skirt, for old time’s sake.)
3. But, speaking of hell on Earth, this weekend in Davis Square, I saw a toddler wearing skinny jeans. Swear to God.
4. But to go back to the move for a minute - our new landlord appears to be both a bear and a Log Cabin Republican.
5. And speaking of the back flips that all LGBT people must do in order to make peace with their political parties, I continue to harbor no illusions about the fact that the Democratic Party thinks it has queer people over a barrel, and can and could sell them down the river at any moment, but I will not pretend that I did not get a little misty-eyed when Barack Obama talked about motherfucking same-sex partner hospital visitation rights in his acceptance speech, because I have been banging the drum of “it’s not about white weddings, it’s about benefits” when it comes to same-sex marriage since supporting the Massachusetts state constitutional amendment was just a twinkle in John Kerry’s opportunistic eye.
(And, ugh, am I the only one who wants to just bury their head in the sand over the topic of Sarah Palin? Yesterday my mom was going on about how she thought that it was irresponsible that Palin even agreed to be on the ticket, because she had a seventeen-year-old pregnant daughter and a four-month-old mentally handicapped son, and I said that I thought that was unfair, because I doubt she would say that same thing about a man running for vice president with those kinds of family issues on his plate, and Republican evangelicals were willing to ignore the fact that Dick Cheney’s daughter is a lesbian, they ought to be equally willing to hypocritically ignore Sarah Palin’s daughter being an unwed teenage mother. And defending a female candidate whose politics I find abhorrent against institutionalized sexism is the right thing to do, but dude, it can be really fucking taxing. I also think there’s something to be said for the fact that there are lots of well-established and experienced Republican women in political office - Olympia Snow and Kay Bailey Hutchinson to name a few - who were probably passed over by the McCain campaign in part because they are pro-choice, but I’m not even sure if I can nuance that argument without slipping and falling into a puddle of hypocrisy. Mostly, I’m sad that the most viable female candidate for national office in my lifetime is a woman that I don’t respect. I know that’s childish, but that’s honestly how I feel. I’m just sad.)
6. I told Katie that, when I moved into a place without coin-op laundry, I was going to dig my Patriots sweatshirt out from the bottom of my laundry basket, where it’s been sitting, balled up, unwashed and untouched, since February, and prepare to get back on the horse. I’ve only got four more days to make good, I’m still not sure I’m ready.
2. Speaking of zygote college kids, I went to the Porter Square Shaws last night and almost shot up the place, it was so amazingly packed with twelve-year-olds making back to school grocery shopping trips. Hell is being trapped in a sea of shopping carts full of pre-cut carrot and celery sticks and frozen pre-cooked boneless skinless chicken breasts. Some fetus tried to argue with me about whether or not I had cut in line in front of him at the deli counter, coming between him and his half gallon of pre-made macaroni salad. Reader, I almost clocked him.
(Ironically, I had come straight from the gym and was wearing the one piece of collegiate itema that I own, a ratty nine-year-old t-shirt from my alma mater. I felt really old. Not that I’m immune to first day of school syndrome, what with yesterday being the beginning of the first week of September and my first day at work after moving into a new place, I wore a corduroy skirt, for old time’s sake.)
3. But, speaking of hell on Earth, this weekend in Davis Square, I saw a toddler wearing skinny jeans. Swear to God.
4. But to go back to the move for a minute - our new landlord appears to be both a bear and a Log Cabin Republican.
5. And speaking of the back flips that all LGBT people must do in order to make peace with their political parties, I continue to harbor no illusions about the fact that the Democratic Party thinks it has queer people over a barrel, and can and could sell them down the river at any moment, but I will not pretend that I did not get a little misty-eyed when Barack Obama talked about motherfucking same-sex partner hospital visitation rights in his acceptance speech, because I have been banging the drum of “it’s not about white weddings, it’s about benefits” when it comes to same-sex marriage since supporting the Massachusetts state constitutional amendment was just a twinkle in John Kerry’s opportunistic eye.
(And, ugh, am I the only one who wants to just bury their head in the sand over the topic of Sarah Palin? Yesterday my mom was going on about how she thought that it was irresponsible that Palin even agreed to be on the ticket, because she had a seventeen-year-old pregnant daughter and a four-month-old mentally handicapped son, and I said that I thought that was unfair, because I doubt she would say that same thing about a man running for vice president with those kinds of family issues on his plate, and Republican evangelicals were willing to ignore the fact that Dick Cheney’s daughter is a lesbian, they ought to be equally willing to hypocritically ignore Sarah Palin’s daughter being an unwed teenage mother. And defending a female candidate whose politics I find abhorrent against institutionalized sexism is the right thing to do, but dude, it can be really fucking taxing. I also think there’s something to be said for the fact that there are lots of well-established and experienced Republican women in political office - Olympia Snow and Kay Bailey Hutchinson to name a few - who were probably passed over by the McCain campaign in part because they are pro-choice, but I’m not even sure if I can nuance that argument without slipping and falling into a puddle of hypocrisy. Mostly, I’m sad that the most viable female candidate for national office in my lifetime is a woman that I don’t respect. I know that’s childish, but that’s honestly how I feel. I’m just sad.)
6. I told Katie that, when I moved into a place without coin-op laundry, I was going to dig my Patriots sweatshirt out from the bottom of my laundry basket, where it’s been sitting, balled up, unwashed and untouched, since February, and prepare to get back on the horse. I’ve only got four more days to make good, I’m still not sure I’m ready.