Enough already!
Best,
J
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
Yesssss
The small private conference room in our office that is generally reserved for telephone interviews with prospective employers (if you’re any number of my former co-workers) or paying off your traffic tickets, so the county will remove the two bench warrants filed against you (if you’re me). Today, I was walking by when I noticed that the lights were off – always a good sign of a juicy happening – and there was someone talking inside. The only words I could catch (before I was caught lingering outside) were “dirty-ass ho.” Beautiful.
In other good news, Kyle just called me and told me that one of his employers has agreed to finish my root canal for free, basically. He’s going to take what the insurance company is offering for both steps of the process (fitting me for a cap, giving me a temporary cap and then a permenant one) and nothing more, which is, like, totally rad, considering I am, as always, Brokey McBrokerson.
Next up: wisdom tooth removal! Woo hoo!
In other good news, Kyle just called me and told me that one of his employers has agreed to finish my root canal for free, basically. He’s going to take what the insurance company is offering for both steps of the process (fitting me for a cap, giving me a temporary cap and then a permenant one) and nothing more, which is, like, totally rad, considering I am, as always, Brokey McBrokerson.
Next up: wisdom tooth removal! Woo hoo!
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
This makes me so happy
This is one of the three freakin' adorable mascots for the Vancouver 2010 Olympics. Is it wrong to want to go to the Olympics just so I can see them in person? Love. There are some cute games on the event Web site, too. I think, at the very least, I'm gonna have to get a comemorative pin or somethin'.
And last night, I bought a new print. How lovely is this? And I get buttons with it, too.
More good news: I have had issues with my car for months now, and last night I brought it in for the dealer repair guy to have another look. Every other time I've done this, he's basically told me that I'm crazy, that everything's been fixed. This time, the voice mail he left on my phone was something like this: "Hey, just looked at your car, and, well, we're replacing the transmission ... [me, inwardly: SHIT!!] ... and it's covered by your warranty [sigh of relief]. I'll call you when it's done." Then, a few hours later, another message: "Hey, the car's all fixed, and as we were fixing it, the check engine light went on. It was your thermostat ... [ARGH!!] ... but it's covered under warranty, so we've replaced that, too."
Aaaah. I feel better now.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
And then there's this
Which both of my (semi-bitterly divorced, but politically aligned) parents have sent me in the last few days: We bruise our daughters when we bash Hillary Clinton.
Recently, I learned that some airport shops are selling a "Hillary nutcracker." She has a smile on her face and metal spikes between her thighs. I don't worry about the candidate, who has learned how to handle such misogyny, but I do dwell on the young girls who might catch a horrifying glimpse of those steel jaws and decide that no woman should invite such vitriol.
Recently, I learned that some airport shops are selling a "Hillary nutcracker." She has a smile on her face and metal spikes between her thighs. I don't worry about the candidate, who has learned how to handle such misogyny, but I do dwell on the young girls who might catch a horrifying glimpse of those steel jaws and decide that no woman should invite such vitriol.
Dreading March 4
For the first time I can remember, I don't know which Presidential candidate I will be voting for in the primary. And man, it is making me crazy. I just took one of those online quizzes where you can answer questions to see which candidate best suits you, and Hillary and Barack frickin' came in tied! Ack!
Annnnd ... I just took another poll, and it looks like my winning candidate is ... Mike Gravel, probably only because Kucinich is no longer a choice. Yeah, that's how I roll.
OK, another site has Obama matching me at 85 percent, tied (natch) with Kucinich, and followed by Hillary at 83 percent. In other words, too close to count.
[Edited to add: And the fucking USA Today poll has me with Kucinich first, Gravel second and McCain third. Perfect.]
Ugh. Rebecca Traister had an essay in Salon a couple of days before Super Tuesday that, well, it's like she has tapped into every single feeling I have had about this race. I had a hard time picking out the parts that most spoke to me, because, well, it all does, but here are some excerpts:
I think, every day, of what it would feel like to vote for Barack Obama. I can feel the pull of Obama-mania, how thrilling it would be to see the country come alive with excitement for a young person, someone with fresh ideas, a man beholden to few in Washington, a candidate who has lived around the world, who does not seem to take a cowboy approach to foreign policy, who has forsaken big business opportunities in order to address the problems of the working class. I think also that, in the United States, race (especially when combined with class) remains a more formidable barrier to professional, political and economic success than gender. Hillary Clinton may have a harder time getting elected than Obama because, frankly, Obama can be comfortably looked at as an exceptional black man, not as a harbinger of what's to come, whereas Hillary will stand in for all those pushy broads coming to take your jobs, college admissions letters and seats in Congress. If Hillary's success is less exceptional, does she deserve my vote as much as Barack?
And then I think of how, when I was 9, my dad took me into the voting booth so that I could pull the lever for the first female vice president, and how he told me that he hoped that in my lifetime I would have the opportunity to vote for a woman at the top of the ticket. And I think about the fact that this is it -- my chance to pull that lever for her, so that I can do it again come November.
. . .
But here is the honest part: Hillary Clinton is a woman. And so am I. And my president doesn't have to look like me, any more than she has to be a person I want to have a beer with, but I can't pretend that it doesn't mean something, something really important, that we've never had one who looked like me before.
Annnnd ... I just took another poll, and it looks like my winning candidate is ... Mike Gravel, probably only because Kucinich is no longer a choice. Yeah, that's how I roll.
OK, another site has Obama matching me at 85 percent, tied (natch) with Kucinich, and followed by Hillary at 83 percent. In other words, too close to count.
[Edited to add: And the fucking USA Today poll has me with Kucinich first, Gravel second and McCain third. Perfect.]
Ugh. Rebecca Traister had an essay in Salon a couple of days before Super Tuesday that, well, it's like she has tapped into every single feeling I have had about this race. I had a hard time picking out the parts that most spoke to me, because, well, it all does, but here are some excerpts:
I think, every day, of what it would feel like to vote for Barack Obama. I can feel the pull of Obama-mania, how thrilling it would be to see the country come alive with excitement for a young person, someone with fresh ideas, a man beholden to few in Washington, a candidate who has lived around the world, who does not seem to take a cowboy approach to foreign policy, who has forsaken big business opportunities in order to address the problems of the working class. I think also that, in the United States, race (especially when combined with class) remains a more formidable barrier to professional, political and economic success than gender. Hillary Clinton may have a harder time getting elected than Obama because, frankly, Obama can be comfortably looked at as an exceptional black man, not as a harbinger of what's to come, whereas Hillary will stand in for all those pushy broads coming to take your jobs, college admissions letters and seats in Congress. If Hillary's success is less exceptional, does she deserve my vote as much as Barack?
. . .
And then I think of how, when I was 9, my dad took me into the voting booth so that I could pull the lever for the first female vice president, and how he told me that he hoped that in my lifetime I would have the opportunity to vote for a woman at the top of the ticket. And I think about the fact that this is it -- my chance to pull that lever for her, so that I can do it again come November.
. . .
There is shame in voting for Hillary Clinton, make no mistake -- pulling a lever for someone who voted for Iraq and proposed anti-flag-burning legislation provokes its own brand of self-loathing. When I think about doing the deed, I consider the fact that she's brilliant, that she's competent, that she knows her shit inside and out, that she's battle-tested, tough as nails, and that she wipes the floor with Obama in the debates. She provides a steel-solid track record, he a nimbus of vague hope.
. . .
But here is the honest part: Hillary Clinton is a woman. And so am I. And my president doesn't have to look like me, any more than she has to be a person I want to have a beer with, but I can't pretend that it doesn't mean something, something really important, that we've never had one who looked like me before.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Can’t it ever lede without bleeding? Ever? Ever ever?
AngryJournalist.com is my new favorite thing on the internet.
A sampling:
Angry Journalist #185:
I’m pissed that community journalism is dying and being bought out by bullshit companies who don’t care about grass roots reporting and the important position it holds in small town America.
Angry Journalist #245:
I just want to punch someone
Angry Journalist #276:
Editors who tell you to “dumb down” the writing, not trusting the reader’s intelligence. The public who doesn’t give a shit about what’s going on around them. AP style, nut grafs, and ledes. The lack of balls in writing style. The large MSM outlets who skew the news and make community journalists look like assholes. The lack of truth in journalism. The fact that politicians try to make themselves look good in the press, rather than give the truth, and we have to take it as is. The fact that the state I live in has one reporter opening a month, we have a popular journalism major at a state university, and dozens apply to each job that comes up. What are the rest of the kids doing? The fact that I can’t pay off my debts as a community journalist, and in fact only create more. The fact that if I ever want to move up in this field I have to give out blow jobs. The fact that writing shitty stories over irregular hours makes me so numb I can’t bear to sit and write fiction during my time off. The fact that I am considering a trade job to get out of this field I worked so hard to get into. The fact that I love the concept of the news, but hate the way it is done, and am disillusioned by how I am told to do it. The fact that papers look to hire journalists with online and multimedia skills, but only take paper packet applications. The fact we have to write the same amount of stories we always have AND do more multimedia on top of it. The fact that there is never enough time to really spend out in the public chatting with the people who matter most — the readers. Shall I continue?
Angry Journalist #293:
I should have gone to refrigeration school.
(Via Gawker)
A sampling:
Angry Journalist #185:
I’m pissed that community journalism is dying and being bought out by bullshit companies who don’t care about grass roots reporting and the important position it holds in small town America.
Angry Journalist #245:
I just want to punch someone
Angry Journalist #276:
Editors who tell you to “dumb down” the writing, not trusting the reader’s intelligence. The public who doesn’t give a shit about what’s going on around them. AP style, nut grafs, and ledes. The lack of balls in writing style. The large MSM outlets who skew the news and make community journalists look like assholes. The lack of truth in journalism. The fact that politicians try to make themselves look good in the press, rather than give the truth, and we have to take it as is. The fact that the state I live in has one reporter opening a month, we have a popular journalism major at a state university, and dozens apply to each job that comes up. What are the rest of the kids doing? The fact that I can’t pay off my debts as a community journalist, and in fact only create more. The fact that if I ever want to move up in this field I have to give out blow jobs. The fact that writing shitty stories over irregular hours makes me so numb I can’t bear to sit and write fiction during my time off. The fact that I am considering a trade job to get out of this field I worked so hard to get into. The fact that I love the concept of the news, but hate the way it is done, and am disillusioned by how I am told to do it. The fact that papers look to hire journalists with online and multimedia skills, but only take paper packet applications. The fact we have to write the same amount of stories we always have AND do more multimedia on top of it. The fact that there is never enough time to really spend out in the public chatting with the people who matter most — the readers. Shall I continue?
Angry Journalist #293:
I should have gone to refrigeration school.
(Via Gawker)
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