accidental feminist

life imitates art October 7, 2008

When I bring the girls into the workout room, I usually try to make sure no one else is in there, so that they can docilely watch “The Suite Life of Zach and Cody” or other fine programming while I burn off my afternoon M&M fix. But, every so often, there’s people already in there, and when they are, they’re usually watching CNN.

That was the case yesterday, when I said to the girls, “Do you want to just stay and watch CNN? It’s about Sarah Palin…”

To which Bassie rolled her eyes and said, “Mom, I only like Sarah Palin when it’s Tina Fey.”

lullaby, and goodnight… October 4, 2008

Last night, yosefblog did a little bait and switch on Dina: when she asked him to tuck her in, he ended up getting her to read him a story and sing him a lullaby. Little did he know what he had just gotten himself into. When Dina claimed she didn’t know any lullabies, and yb told her she could just make one up, here’s what came out:

Close your eyes and go to sleep
Close your eyes and go to sleep
You never know who’s behind you
You never know who’s watching you

yb: Um, Dina, that’s a scary song; like someone’s going to kill me.

Dina: Daddy! I told you I don’t know how to sing a lullaby.

Look out, Wes Craven, there’s a new sheriff in town…

fun with grammar October 3, 2008

I think this will be my lesson plan for Monday. Thanks, yoblo.

rules, rules, rules! October 1, 2008

I’m sick of all these “feminism rules” about how women should treat other women just because they’re women. I was criticized when I supported Obama in the primary, because “It’s time for a woman in the White House”. And now, some women still feel as though they have to practically apologize for not liking Sarah Palin, or for not trusting her to run an entire freaking country based on some shaky credentials and a complete lack of understanding of complex issues; or for that matter, simple issues:

Pancakes or waffles, Mrs. Palin?

Well, this whole breakfast thing comes down to–to our ability to make–to make breakfast a thing that is for everyone that our candidate, the maverick, sees as essential to ending these health care issues that don’t give us a fair shake to get Washington movin’ in the right direction so as to–to get that nutrition we so desperately need in that morning meal that’s just exactly what I’m talkin’ about.

I will not tolerate someone just because that person happens to have the same type of genitalia as me.

An aside: Every time I try to think of a metaphor for what Joe Biden is going to do to her in the debate, I run into the problem of that metaphor (which I’ve used innocuously enough on many an occasion), suddenly taking on a misogynistic tone:

–reduce her to tears
–bitch slap her
–rip her a new one
–give her brain an abortion

See what I mean?

this post sponsored by jcrew September 24, 2008

The other day, over matzo ball soup at Zaftig’s, I inadvertently stumbled into a game with Bassie while trying to explain corporate sponsorship of ballparks:

Me: You know, like, Wrigley Field, that’s owned by the company that makes Juicy Fruit. They sponsor the field so their name’s on it.

Bassie: So who sponsor’s them?

Me: What?

Bassie: Who sponsor’s Wrigley?

Okay, I’ll bite…

Me: Uh, Sports Illustrated?

Bassie: And who sponsors them?

Me: Uh, Gilette?

Bassie: And who sponsor’s them?

I pause and, I guess, look at her incredulously.

Bassie: In the alternate universal where everything has a sponsor, who sponsors Gilette?

Me: Uh, Jewel-Osco?

Bassie: And who sponsors them?

Me: Wal-mart.

Bassie: And who sponsors Wal-Mart.

Me: Hell.*

You knew that’s where this had to be heading.

Bassie: Okay, who sponsors H-E-L-L?

Me: Wal-mart. It’s a mutual sponsorship.

Look, I had to end it somehow.

*To be fair, there were actually several rounds of this, not all of which ended so neatly; one involved the sponsorship of Fenway Park by Disney, which was in turn sponsored by Converse. Then I got stuck.

Now you try. One suggestion: start small; these tiered sponsorships build faster than that crazy Nintendo game where you roll stuff up into a ball and you start with little cookies and then move to furniture and then houses, and somehow you end up with a ball full of planets. What’s that game called? Damn it, this is killing me!

you catch more flies with foam September 18, 2008

I had a revelation today, at the Starbucks in Coolidge Corner. The barista made a particularly well-crafted latte. Clearly not from some pre-heated, half-hour old milk in a pitcher. This stuff was freshly foamed. It was creamy; it had heft; you could draw a maple leaf or a heart or something in it. Now, this is what I expect from a latte, and I don’t think you should be rewarded for making it correctly. But, you know what, sometime, just sometimes, I take off my misanthropic little beanie of judgment and don the feathered fedora of goodwill. So I stopped and turned back to the barista: “Did you make this?” “Yes,” she replied nervously. “Because this is a great latte. The foam is excellent. I know it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but it is, and I just wanted you to know that you did a great job”. And who doesn’t like to be told they do their job well? And who wouldn’t want to continue to perform well after a compliment like that? (No, seriously, yosefblog, what’s the research on that?) So all y’all who get a good latte at the Coolidge Corner Starbucks from now on, you just might have me to thank.

wanted: frequent flyer miles September 17, 2008

Dina has decided that each time she masters a new language, she gets to go to the language’s country of origin as a reward. Really, this is because she wants to justify going to India to buy a hot pink sari and ride on an elephant, but as it stands right now, she’ll be earning trips to at least China and Israel in the near future. Can’t I just take her to Cermak and Wentworth, and the mall kiosk where they sell Dead Sea Mineral Body Lotion?

“so this guy walks into a talent agent’s office…” September 16, 2008

Actually get to tell “The Aristocrats” to an unsuspecting friend at a bar: check.

(Here’s what many argue was the best telling of it they ever heard; by Gilbert Godfried, at the roast of Hugh Hefner, two weeks after September 11th. WARNING- DO NOT CLICK ON THE ABOVE LINK IF YOU ARE FAINT OF HEART; IT IS DIRTY, DIRTY, DIRTY.)

Indeed, Godfried’s telling of it was what inspired me to tell it when my friend said, “Man, September 11th; I guess it’s hard for anything to be funny today…”

Bonus:here’s a journalistic justification for it.

What has two thumbs and is creepily and obsessively collected by grown-women who can no longer justify keeping their American Girl collection? September 9, 2008

This gal!

(Enthralled? The creepiness continues here.)

p.s.- I’d put my money on the BJD in a cat-fight with a Bratz any day. Um, youtube, can you make that a reality, please…now? Okay, that’ll do for now.

bassie-son

You are ready for rice, now, grasshopper…

…and Mommy is ready to post countless videos of your precious behavior on youtube.