Fight, fight, fight.
I had a fight last night with someone I really like. Of course, I only have fights with people I like. If someone I don't like and I have words I describe it as "So-and-so ran some bullshit on me."
How many fights we've had is a good gauge of where you place in my pantheon of loved ones. For example, my mom and I have at least a fight a week. With various boyfriends, I average a big fight a month. The friends I would place in my "inner circle" have all been subject to some period of silent treatment from me. Most people I know, if they say or do something offensive I just make a note to avoid them.
It's backwards, right? You should be nice to the people you like, and mean to the people you don't. But then again, fights don't usually start by someone being mean. They start by people being unaware, and then a childish attempt at communication ensues, and then people start getting mean. It's the childish attempt at communication that evidences a bond between people. The attempt signifies "I don't want to walk away from you." But the childish attempt usually sounds like "I think you're a jerk." Also backwards, because who bothers to talk to jerks?
I've been aware of how childish my communication becomes when I'm hurt or threatened since college. I've actually read a fair amount about how to communicate like an adult. But it's definitely a practice makes perfect kind of situation. And I need lots of practice. I think I'm being mature and reasonable, and suddenly I'm describing in quick succession everything my loved one has ever done wrong using only the choicest obscenities. Suddenly I'm telling them what they "always" and "never" do, and it's not "you always hold the door for me" and "you never go to the kitchen without asking if I want something."
Ah, human beings rubbing up against one another, not in the sexy way. It all makes me hope there's some kind of evaluation when we're dead. St. Peter shows me a graph and says, "This was your flying-off-the-handle percentage at 20, and look how low you got that by 76. Also, you really improved on remembering people's birthdays. But we were hoping for more progress on the watching 12 hour marathons of tv shows you don't even like; it was disappointing to all of us that you died while watching that 'Rich Girls' dvd."
(Well, that's a little misleading, because I loved "Rich Girls" and every so often will wonder what Ally Hilfiger is up to.)

You made me blog you (I didn't want to do it).
TOMORROW IS BLOGGAPALOOZA.
(What's bloggapalooza, what is she talking about?)
IT'S A PARTY FOR CLEVELAND BLOGGERS.
(Why is she yelling, is she caps lock deaf?)
I am not caps lock deaf, I wanted your attention. Tomorrow in the Beachland Ballroom's Tavern is Bloggapalooza. All the big names in Cleveland blogging will be there. There will be bands, food, alcohol, and LAPTOPS! From 1:30 to 2:30 the following comedians/ comic writers will be performing for the gathered crowd:

Carrie "What's this on my shoe?" Callahan
Michael "Harpsichord" Ivy
Jim "Cat-Macro" Tews
Zachariah "Snackariah" Durr
Ryan "Let me off this bus!" DeBiase

If you are privy to the inner workings of the weekly Chucklef*ck showings at Bela Dubby, this lineup may be startlingly familiar to you.
This is all part of the Collinwood Arts Festival, and there will be a Rock'n'Roll Flea Market occurring concurrently.
If you don't show up, how will you explain to the in-crowd where you were?

How to calm chronic anxiety

1. Light lavender scented candles and indulge yourself in a relaxing session of screaming at your neighbors from your window and threatening to call the cops.
2. Close your eyes and focus on your breath. When a thought comes into your head, simply tag it "thought" and imagine all the thoughts in your head as a massive, never ending to-do list which will pursue you until you die.
3. Clear your head by going for an afternoon walk in the sun to 5 places in a half hour, cramming your errands into your lunch break so you can return to work hungry and depressed.
4. Take time to look at the big picture, and realize all living beings are chronically anxious, because death is an inevitability and at any moment you may meet the flesh eating bacteria that has your name on it.
That tension extending from the back of your head down your shoulders, into your upper arms and back? Maybe that's your extremely heavy guardian angel. Who has hawk talons.

REMINDER: Fem-Space is tonight. I made brownies for it. I burned the first batch a little bit, then made my family eat them, and made another, better, not burnt batch. Come talk to me about why you're still alive!

MORE VIDEO COMMENTARY!


The Pussycat Dolls don't need men. Same as they don't need clothes. They don't need men for the following activities:
- intimacy
- getting off
- being financially comfortable

Oh wait, that last one is wrong. Because the Pussycat Dolls do need men to come to their burlesque shows, and jerk off to their Maxim photos, and affirm the desirability of the Pussycat Dolls brand. Somehow, men doing this leads to women buying Pussycat Dolls cd's- it's magical and I can't explain it. So the Pussycat Dolls do need men to be financially comfortable, but they don't need romantic relationships with men. I guess the Pussycat Dolls are into chicks.
No, no, no, we all know that's not what they want us to think. If the Pussycat Dolls were into women they might write some songs about how hot women make them feel, and how thrilled they are to be in romantic relationships with women, and I've never heard those kind of songs from them.
What the Pussycat Dolls are really saying is they don't need romantic relationships. For them, dancing around naked in front of a fan and pantomiming grooming rituals is sufficient.
Mmmmmmm. How divorced from reality can music videos get? From anecdotal evidence, I would venture that most women instead feel:
- that having romantic relationships is really great
- that getting off is better with other people
- that they are far from being financially comfortable on their own, and that being in a dual income household would finally let them pursue things like home ownership.
- that having your hair blown all over the place by a fan is annoying
- that they would rather dance around fully clothed.

So the Pussycat Dolls are the freaks of femininity- they don't need intimacy, they don't need shared sexual experiences, they don't need to share money, but they do LOVE performing for men as part of a transaction. You know what that's called? Empowerment.

(Also, in a news piece on semi-automatic machine guns getting more popular as consumer goods, a woman said that owning and shooting her two semi-automatic machine guns was the most "empowering" thing she's ever done. She's right- she has literally been empowered to kill up to 30 living things without changing the magazine. Empowerment is maybe the funniest word ever.)

In Which the Differences between Me and Beyonce are Made Explicit.

Whoo! Whoo, I love this song, whoo! ("Whoo": kind of like a train whistle, the sound you make while clapping for a band.) You might think a poor young woman might not relate to this song, or find it's message compelling. And you might think other incorrect things, such as cats will steal your breath. Why would a cat want your breath? It's not like they can sell or pawn it. Cats are the least entrepeneurial of the common housepets.
Enough silliness. I would love to be able to make the claims Beyonce makes in this song! But when I sing this song to myself in the morning, I know I can't offer a potential mate any of the resources Beyonce can. Line by line analysis below:

I hear you be the block
But I'm the lights that keep the streets on
- I am not involved with keeping street lights on. This line is in response to Jay-Z's claim that whereas before he used to "beat" the block, he now "be's" (is) the block. I think Beyonce is saying her presence provides beauty and joie de vivre to poor communities. To my knowledge, I have never been a source of either in my neighborhood.
Notice you the type that like to keep them on a
Leash though
- that's worrisome
I'm known to walk alone
But I'm alone for a reason
- now, this is applicable to me, I am also alone for a reason. Self- diagnosed social anxiety disorder.
Sending me a drink ain't appeasing
Believe me
- I love free drinks, especially unexpected ones. I can imagine feeling fearful about what was expected in exchange for receipt of the drinks, since men who traffic in free drinks also take rejection very personally. I think a fair exchange for a free drink is 5 minutes of pleasantries, serious consideration of a man as a romantic prospect, then an honest communication of his chances with you. Also, I would not say anything like "Hey, hound-dog-face over there sent me a drink."
Come harder this wont be easy
Don't doubt yourself trust me you need me
This ain't a shoulder with a chip or an ego
But what you think they all mad at me for
- Man, do I have some chips on my shoulders. It's like someone dumped a bag of Pringles on me.
You need a real woman in your life
Taking care, home is still fly
Imma help you build up your account
- I can't keep your home fly. I truly wish I could, but I don't see dirt until the bottoms of my feet turn black.
When you're in them big meetings for the mills
It take me just to compliment the deal
Anything you cop I'll split the bill
Believe me
- I can't pay for half your stuff. Maybe if you keep your spending to a minimum. Keep it to 3 dollars a week and I can try to do this for you.
I can do for you what Martin did for the people
Ran by the men but the women keep the tempo
- That's a lot of work just to 'keep the tempo'.
It's very seldom that you're blessed to find your equal.
Still play my part and let you take the lead role
Believe me
I'll follow this could be easy
I'll be the help whenever you need me
I see you hustle wit my hustle I
Can keep you
Focused on yo focus I can feed you
- I could feed you. All the food will be bought from Aldi's, but I could feed you. But, I am lousy at hustling. My middle school basketball coach can attest to that.

So Beyonce is by far the more attractive catch. In my defense, I would not go around putting expensive things in my mouth. You only need to get kicked out of Jared's: The Galleria of Jewelry once.

What is Fem-space?
It's a feminist discussion group

Who can attend?
Women

How about non-feminist women?
ok doke

How about non-women feminists?
No, it's more of a woman thing.

What topics will be discussed?
This week it's fighting and self-defense and creepy situations you've found yourself in and what you've learned about self-defense from them. This topic was just picked because Carrie has been thinking a lot about it. If you come to the meetings you can pick topics too.

MSN doesn't want me to date.

I can tell they don't want me to date because they throw articles like this up on their front page. Hey, at least they give both genders equal opportunity to convince me not to date. From the men: Dating is a cat and mouse game in which women have to earn getting respected by men. From the women: Dating is a cat and mouse game in which women believe "even the nicest guys" have to be cock-teased into respecting women. Goody-goody, that sounds like a lot of fun. Dating: Romantic like a job interview, with about the same chance of sex.
My two cents: I wouldn't pursue a relationship with a man who had sex with me on the first date. Because he's obviously got no self-respect. And who wants to be linked with a guy that everyone knows gives it away for free? No, better to date a man who makes you chase it for awhile. Of course, the flipside is he might be frigid. Either way, once he starts talking about his feelings I'm bailing.

Feelings, nothing more than....
Why is it I always want to tell the internet how I feel? There are so many notable events to talk about, but I'd rather talk about how I feel restless, or a little hungry, or irrationally enthusiastic. Me. Me. Me. Well, today I feel bored, and I moved work stations at work and can see a strip of the lake, and it's making the boredom worse.
I have this hunch that there are enough people on this planet that we could all work a 10 hour week and produce enough for everyone to be quite comfortable. Maybe a 20 hour week.
We'd have to eat at home more and not drive cars everywhere and we'd probably not have all the neat gadgets we have now. It would be worth it. Lots of time for napping, and conversing, and planning what to do with yourself. It would be just like being in the office, but with better lighting and coffee.
Someone told me last week that there are some men who will put peanut butter and jelly on their underwear for a week so that they can have a better understanding of what women go through with their menses. Oh ho ho. What a kick ass world we live in, that a man would contemplate keeping jelly right up next to his privates for a week. I declare this "The Gender Experiment Most Likely to Result in a Yeast Infection/Fire-ants."
I just love people doing freaky stuff. It's not that important to me why they do it. I just appreciate them breaking up the monotony of acceptable behavior.
I have done some crazy shit over the past year. But I keep wanting to do crazier shit. I won't be content until my inhibitions are beaten to a pulp and I can knock on people's doors naked asking for the batteries out of their tv remote.
Chucklef*ck was great last night. Next time you see Zachariah Durr ask him to tell you about God.

REVIEW: Not getting enough sleep
Last night it was hot as a motherfucker. HOT. Hot like Satan's armpit. I couldn't fall asleep for anything. (Also I had had a cup of coffee around 2.) Now I am paying for it. How? By being completely angry at everyone and everything that crosses my path.
Things I have been angry at since waking up:
- my phone
- the heat
- the evaporated milk can
- some people I vaguely know
- my bike seat
- the government for not making it easier for me to bike to work
- the cars on the road
- the pedestrians on the sidewalk
- the boat that caused the bridge to be raised
- the attorney in the elevator, who in fairness to me and my bad mood, was being a dick. Here is how: I bring my front tire up to my office, because it has a quick release and would be easy to steal off of my bike, and it makes stealing my bike even harder. This lawyer (and every man in a suit in my building is a lawyer, it's that kind of building) goes "What happened to the rest of your bike?" and I say "I take the front wheel off to make it harder to steal" and he says, "I know that, I understand that." Ok, well......and then he says, "People probably wouldn't steal your tire" and then I say, "Well, it has a quick release so it would be easy to do," and then he says, "No I understand that, I know that already." What is wrong with middle aged male attorneys that they get so defensive about how they already know everything in the whole world? The only thing you can say to these guys that doesn't result in a big fucking DEAL is "Haha, what a funny, funny joke, and what an impressive pair of suit pants you are wearing." I can't be bothered to run around all day protecting your precarious inflated self image- I have my own precarious self image to defend. After all, I'm the twenty something female with no money, remember? Don't you have a lexus for this sort of thing?
- my horoscope for being boring
- my boss for calling the office
- myself for not having done all of my work last friday
- and the internet, for not having interesting content today.
VERDICT: Not into it. Must spend more time asleep.

REVIEW: Riding my bike to the library downtown on a Saturday
So this is going to be my new gimmick, reviewing my life. I had several cd's and a book on hold for me at the main library branch downtown, and a whole lot of nothing special going on this morning, so I rode my bike downtown. It was pleasant. It was better than my bike ride to work, because there were less Audis going 50 down Scranton to worry about. I got to ride in the middle of the street, which on Scranton is important because the edges of that road are treacherous. I think what happened is that when the work crews went out to repair the crazy pot holes on Scranton, they were carrying the cement on their backs, and one brave workman said, "Hey, no one is watching, we could all just pour out this cement into mounds right where we're standing, instead of spreading it around and making the road even." And all the workmen thought that was a real good idea, so after they created their cement piles they got a bunch of beer bottles and had a glass shard making contest.
But today I rode in the middle of the road and then conquered the hill from the flats to the warehouse district. I actually beat a couple walking up that hill. Beat them meaning I was at the top of the hill before they were, not that I attacked them. And I picked up my cd's and my book, and set off the alarm walking out of the library. Then the security guard asked what was in my bag, and I told him guns, but then said "oh that's not an ok joke to make" to let him know I take the threat of guns seriously. So then he looked at my cd's and book, and told me he wasn't trying to be an asshole but he liked to see what people were reading. And I walked away, and I don't think there was a confirmation that I had checked those materials out of the library instead of just walking out with them. So really that guard is more of a banter guard than a security guard. Then I rode back home, and passed a wedding party. At first I thought it was a very colorful first communion, because there were all of these little girls in gowns. But there was a very young woman in a bridal gown, and a very young man in an army uniform, and also you have to wear white to your first communion because it's one of several practice weddings in a girl's life. Then I got home and played my cd's and started the book.
So in summary: an errand was accomplished, sights were seen, heart rate was raised.
VERDICT: Into it.
(That's the rating system: I'm either into it or I'm not into it. If my reaction to an experience is more complicated than that, I probably won't review it.)