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Then You Must Fight the Bear

4 Dec bear

Ladies of the earth, in order to move forward, I fully believe we must take inspiration from menfolks, and demand that our needs be met. For starters, we deserve to have our physical pain taken seriously, and not ignored like the natural consequence of our wombs roaming free all over our bodies.

For example, every medical test for women is horrible: squish this between two plates, scrape that with a stick, etc., and if you ask if it will hurt, you’ll hear, “It’ll be uncomfortable.” (Which means yes, and shut up.)

Do you think for one second that men would put with this shit? They would not. If you told a man, “We’re going to screen you for testicular cancer right now. The process for this is to put your nuts on this plate and wait for them to be squashed by this other plate. No crying,” what do you think he would say?

I think his response would be a resounding, “Fuuuuuck yooooou. I’m gonna get out of this dump, and do anything else but that. In fact, I’m going to race out of here, still in my plastic-paper gown, and head toward the nearest woods. There, I will fight a bear, and if I live, I’ll take that as a sign that I don’t have ball cancer … AND IF I DIE, I SHALL GO TO VALHALLA WHERE THE BRAVE LIVE FOREVER.”


(See that, dudes? I like you a bunch. Don’t believe what those MRAs tell you; we hostile feminists don’t want to destroy you, we just want some of that cultural acceptance mojo. But I digress.)

My point is, women’s pain needs to matter. It’s not a question of male doctors vs. female patients, because all genders have to deal with unconscious bias, since it’s apparently part of the human condition. But for God’s sake, if you’re a healthcare provider, please ask yourself one question before telling a woman that a procedure will be “uncomfortable”: would you say the same thing to a man? And even if you would, might you not offer him some pain relief to go along with it?

For the rest of us non-doctors and non-nurses, the way forward is equally challenging and necessary. Women, we’re going to have to demand to be treated and taken seriously. And men, when your favorite female people tell you that they’re in pain, you’ll have to believe them.

Photo Credit: Tambako the Jaguar/Flickr

Terms Considered Difficult or Impossible to Translate Into English

8 Aug

Every so often, my brain shorts out toward the end of my work day, and I fall into an internet hole and find poetry at the bottom. This Wikipedia entry on terms that don’t translate is possibly the ultimate example of one of those holes.

A few examples:

cafuné: Brazilian Portuguese. The act of fondling someone’s hair.

pinchar: Spanish. To call a mobile phone once and hang up, either so that the other person can call you back and save money, or so that they can store your phone number. Could also mean to sting, flirt (or be flirted at), puncture, pierce, prick, or fuck. (I can see how the progression worked from puncture, but I’m wondering who was the first person to suggest that someone, uh, pierce their phone by calling it once, if you see what I mean.)

Sitzriese: German. A person who appears tall when sitting.

saudade: Galician or Portuguese. The feeling of missing something or someone.

Language is amazing and beautiful and enough of a miracle for anyone, really.


Image: Basilievich/Flickr

So You’re in Hell: 9 More Things You Can’t Do in This Christing Heat

16 Jul

Dear Con Edison,

I recently received, via my internet mailbox, a helpful missive from you entitled “9 Tips to Stay Cool in the Heat.” I used to compose email newsletters for one of my thousands of jobs, and so I was surprised and impressed at the helpful information contained in your message, which included such advice as “buy an expensive new air conditioner, and wait for us to mail you $25,” “close your blinds,” and “don’t turn your oven on.”

I couldn’t help but notice that all of your advice, except for the bit about the air conditioner, was appropriate for either a heatwave or the zombie apocalypse. Or, as my friend Kate put it, “Sit in the dark and don’t bake a cake.” Since that’s generally how I behave when I’m at home — sitting in the dark, not making food — I’m not sure that it will make a big difference in my quality of life, but I appreciate the thought anyway.

To show you how much I appreciate it, I thought I’d compose a list of things that you, Con Edison, the anthropomorphized corporate entity, should not do during this horrible heatwave. You are welcome in advance. I’ll not see you on the jitney, as I’m too broke from buying new energy-efficient ACs to go to the Hamptons.

1. Do not bend over and kiss your own ass. As amusing as this would be for me, I know from trying to do basic physical therapy exercises in my living room that it’s far too hot for anything that strenuous.

2. In fact, do not do anything other than lie on your sofa and suffer like the rest of us dumb animals. The good news is, it’s too hot to care about how boring you’re being.

3. Do not do anything involving the suffix “-out.” That includes brownouts, blackouts, wipeouts, etc. It’s very hard to get to my roof. I have to climb up the side of the building or out through a hatch with a wobbly ladder. This makes it very hard to catch a breeze and/or leap to my death when it gets to warm to live. Please have pity.

4. Do not suggest solutions that involve money. Your clients are already paying approximately $1.3 million each per month to have air conditioning. We don’t have any more money. You took it all.

5. Do not propose suggestions that involve leaving the house. How would I get this miracle AC unit of which you speak? I imagine I’d have to go out and get it. This being New York, I would also have to hump it home. It’d be like portaging a canoe, only without the refreshing river breeze. I’m a heavy sweater. You don’t want to see what happens when I try to do my own shopping in the heat.

6. Look, I know about AC vents. Stop with the AC vents. We all know we’re supposed to clean them and we never do. We’re all growing a new and deadly breed of Legionnaire’s Disease in our lungs, the bunch of us, but we’re too hot to be arsed.

7. Do not try to cool off by sticking your head in the freezer. I just tried it. It works for a minute, but then the ice cubes start to go and pretty soon you start to worry about the ice cream. And since we’ve already established that no one is going out until October, we need to hold onto all the ice cream we have.

8. About this item: “When you set your thermostat, keep in mind that every degree you lower it increases costs by 6 percent.” How much do I increase my bill if I keep turning the AC down, but the temperature on my thermostat continues to climb? Eventually, does it cancel out, causing money to spontaneously regenerate in my bank account? Is this a mystery of finance or physics?

9. Do not send me any more fucking email updates. I understand that this is my own fault for not unsubscribing, but it’s to hot to click links.

Thanks again for your assistance and understanding.

I am hot, and not in a fun way,

Your customer


Image: Todd Morris/Flickr

Things That Will Apparently Make Me Cry When I Have PMS

24 Jun

Obviously inspired by this genius Tumblr.

1. My hairpins are the wrong kind, and won’t stick into my bun easily on the first try.

2. Adam found out that “Ace Ventura: Pet Detective” had allusions to Sherlock Holmes. I hate “Ace Ventura.”

3. I found a typo on a second read of something I was editing, which is the whole reason I do second (and third) reads.

4. It’s too hot outside and the AC is too cold.

5. Adam wants to know what’s making me cry, and I can’t explain it.

6. We’re out of milk.

7. Something smells like garbage and I don’t know what.

8. I can’t find my favorite headband.

9. Seriously, the movie “Ace Ventura” exists on the earth. Is that not enough reason to weep?

10. Thanks to bloating, I don’t actually fit in my own underpants.


Image: Sethoscope/Flickr

Democracy Inaction

6 Nov

Dennis: I woke up early to go vote before going to work, but instead ate cookies and drank juice and took a long shower. Sorry democracy!

Me: Ha!

Dennis: I will be one of those schmucks on the line at 7 tonight.

Me: I haven’t been yet! Going soon.

Me: I just took an election-day picture of myself with my new camera and deleted it. I look like a portrait of Middle-Aged Worry.

Dennis: Definitely try to find the ideal time when it won’t be crazy busy. Whenever that is.

Me: I’m a) stressed, and b) not sure about these new 8 megapixel cameras.

Dennis: Every pore in full detail!

Me: Eye bags from Ambien! Wrinkles I won’t see regularly for another five years!

Go vote, everyone. Don’t let America look like a terrified freelancer with a brand-new phone.

Image: Yumbies

Here’s That Marriage Post You Never Asked for

17 Oct

So, I wrote this whole long post for our anniversary about marriage in general and Adam in particular and blah blah blah, but then I didn’t publish it, for the following reasons:

1. It would have embarrassed Adam, who does not share my compulsion to offer every little thought to the world.

2. It made me sound like a self-satisfied dick. There was a portion with advice in it, which in true internet rhetoric fashion, wasn’t really advice, but it came off like I thought I’d discovered something about relationships, when in fact, all I’ve discovered is that it’s a good idea to marry Adam.

So there’s my actual advice, for anyone who wants to know: don’t overshare about your relationship, marry Adam. The end.

Manderley, Again

9 Oct

I reread “Rebecca” yesterday, instead of doing any work, because I couldn’t face it. I just came off of about ten straight days of either slogging along on various projects at home, or sitting in a conference trying to cram more facts into my poor little head.

Monday morning, I woke up with every intention of getting ahead on a few things, only to find that my brain didn’t work anymore. I mean, it was on strike. I tried to convince it to do a little light editing, but it insisted that we stay in bed til 11 and read gothic fiction from the 1930s. What are you going to do?

The whole thing apparently turned me into an English Literature student again, because I’ve been thinking about the book ever since. This is not making work any easier today, but it’s making my IM conversations more fruitful. For instance:

Me: I feel like it’s secretly time for a vacation.

Dennis: Oh god, right?

Me: I can’t even. I just want to look up conflicting theories about Daphne du Maurier all day long. She was a lesbian! She was a man! She was a transman! She loved parties! She hated them!

Me: The antagonist in “Rebecca” was a) Rebecca, b) Mrs. Danvers, c) THE PATRIARCHY. (The answer, as always, is C.)

Dennis: Hahahaha.

Dennis: It was the Swiss nuns who made all of Rebecca’s PANTIES, let’s touch them together!

Me: Wow, that really was the gayest movie in all creation, wasn’t it?

Dennis: Thanks, Hitch!



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