I've never been a fan of my birthday, or other people's birthdays. Christmas either, but that's more recent, because of all the Happy Holidays/Merry Christmas kvetching.
I don't like having that much attention focused on me, and if you tell the restaurant crew that it's my birthday and they come and sing obnoxious songs at me, so help me, I'm going to leave you at the table with the bill.
Also, I've got enough stuff already. I keep moving to apartments and then not unpacking half my shit because I don't need it. There's a box under my bed right now that's been moved every time i move for about four years now without being unpacked all the way. It's mostly art supplies.
But, more, I hate getting gifts that I feel like I've asked for by telling someone it's my birthday. I hate people asking me what I want for my birthday. If you should be getting me a gift, you'd probably already have a decent guess. I'd rather get a gift that's not quite something I wanted, but the person put thought into it, than get a gift that they just asked me what I wanted and they got exactly that without thinking.
So, usually I just tell people to donate to a charity for me. A charity that I'd like-- I usually suggest one, so people don't go off donating to the GOP or various anti-gay-marriage "family" groups in my name. Last year it was America's Second Harvest/Feeding America.
People get pissy when I tell them this. I guess they're insulted, but I can't figure out exactly why. Maybe it's supposed to prove my friendship if I display the pointless crap they give me.
This is all leading up to the fact that I got an email from my brother the other day, wishing me a happy early birthday and telling me about my gift.
Turns out he just got to the FGM section of his human sexuality textbook in class. He says he apologises for any previous idiocy on his part, and has put a check in the mail to donate $50 to an organisation against it.
See? What's bad about that?
15.9.08
8.9.08
If your kid is a fuck up, you are a fuck up.
Okay, I think Palin is a bad choice for VP. I think this for a lot of reasons, mostly having to do with her lack of experience, blatant lying, and corruption charges. There's also that I think McCain should have said a hearty "Fuck You" to all the people telling him not to go with Lieberman or someone similarly moderate-- The Republicans are going to vote for you, the Democrats (barring the crazy ones) are going to vote for Obama. It's the undecided voters who you have to attract. If conservative voters think you aren't conservative enough, they aren't going to throw a hissy and vote for Obama (unless they're the parallels to the Clinton-> McCain people, who I suppose might exist). Go moderate! Attract the undecideds! Don't drive them away!
Anyway. I've been accused of thinking this because I'm sexist. I'm probably not going to convince these people that I'm not.
But, I think this image is hysterical. So apparently now I'm picking on her kids.
No, see, I'm not. I feel bad for Bristol. She's in an embarrassing situation (or I'd like to think it's embarrassing, but times change), and she's under media scrutiny to boot. Furthermore, I highly doubt that marrying her boyfriend is her idea (or his). I feel bad for all those kids, because there's five of them and I think that's a bad idea in general.
I'm picking on her mother. Because Bristol's pregnancy is her mom's fault. Or her dad's. Both, really. It's her parents' fault.
A teenage pregnancy represents a critical failure in parenting. I'm not saying all fuck ups get knocked up, or that if your kid isn't up the duff that you're doing fine. I am saying that, if your daughter is pregnant/your son knocked a girl up, you (singular or plural, depending on how many parents there are) fucked up bad somewhere down the line.
I highly doubt there are exceptions to this.
You, the Palin family, the Spears family, the family of anyone you knew in high school (or god forbid middle school) who was knocked up/knocked someone up, failed. There's no partial credit here. Almost doesn't count.
Your (their) failure was in one or more of these areas:
-Keeping an eye on your damn kid. I realise this isn't possible 24/7, but you should know who your kid is hanging around with and what sort of people they are.
-Raising your kid with your belief system (if applicable). I'm willing to bet Sarah Palin thinks you should stay a virgin till you're married, but evidently she didn't get that through to Bristol.
-Teaching your kid about sex and birth control. Even if you hope your kid will never use the information, even if your religion bans birth control entirely. Because (see last point) your kid may find themselves wanting that information. If you tell your kid that condoms fail more often than they succeed, and your kid doesn't use them, that is your fault. If you neglect to tell your kids that "pull & pray" is not a valid BC option, and they use that, it is your fault.
These three are supplementary reasons. They always go with this, the one thing that I've noticed in all teenage pregnancies (and related teenage fuckups like eloping with a random internet 30-year-old) :
You failed to instill the respect for her/himself and others needed to not have sex then.
Maybe you never paid enough attention to your kid and s/he thinks you don't love him/her.
Maybe you support your daughter's shopping habit instead of making sure she has self esteem that isn't contingent on others' approval.
Maybe you never had the chat with your son that every woman is someone's daughter, and possibly someone's sister or their future wife- treat her like you'd want someone else to treat your future wife.
Maybe you never told your kids that if their friends wouldn't be friends with them over something they didn't want to do, they're not their friends in the first place.
Maybe you didn't inspire your children to strive for anything better. The girls who got pregnant when I was in high school stayed in that small town, working jobs like gas station clerk and ice cream scooper. None have gotten any education after high school, not even stupid pottery courses at the local community college or anything like that. Some still live with their parents. But hey, why not have a baby in high school if no-one's ever showed you how life great can be if you get to go at it full force, if no-one's shown the confidence in you to tell you about it?
This is the vital one. Tell your kids that they don't have to have sex to be cool, they don't have to have sex to be loved. Tell them that they can see the world and have everything they never even knew they wanted, if they don't limit themselves by having a baby in high school. Make sure they believe you.
If you were a teenage parent yourself, is less damaging for you to say "I(we) love you and I couldn't live without you, but I could have given you a better life if I'd waited a few years to have you" than for you to let them believe that what you did was fine or even brilliant. If you have a first-hand example of how hard it was and how you never got the things you wanted, and you don't get it through to your kid, you are a double fuck up.
If you are the guardian of a teen who is/got someone else pregnant, you cannot call yourself a parent. Your lack of parenting ability has gimped your child's chances of a successful future. The fault for your kid's fuck up falls squarely on you. You are a fuck up.
Anyway. I've been accused of thinking this because I'm sexist. I'm probably not going to convince these people that I'm not.
But, I think this image is hysterical. So apparently now I'm picking on her kids.
No, see, I'm not. I feel bad for Bristol. She's in an embarrassing situation (or I'd like to think it's embarrassing, but times change), and she's under media scrutiny to boot. Furthermore, I highly doubt that marrying her boyfriend is her idea (or his). I feel bad for all those kids, because there's five of them and I think that's a bad idea in general.
I'm picking on her mother. Because Bristol's pregnancy is her mom's fault. Or her dad's. Both, really. It's her parents' fault.
A teenage pregnancy represents a critical failure in parenting. I'm not saying all fuck ups get knocked up, or that if your kid isn't up the duff that you're doing fine. I am saying that, if your daughter is pregnant/your son knocked a girl up, you (singular or plural, depending on how many parents there are) fucked up bad somewhere down the line.
I highly doubt there are exceptions to this.
You, the Palin family, the Spears family, the family of anyone you knew in high school (or god forbid middle school) who was knocked up/knocked someone up, failed. There's no partial credit here. Almost doesn't count.
Your (their) failure was in one or more of these areas:
-Keeping an eye on your damn kid. I realise this isn't possible 24/7, but you should know who your kid is hanging around with and what sort of people they are.
-Raising your kid with your belief system (if applicable). I'm willing to bet Sarah Palin thinks you should stay a virgin till you're married, but evidently she didn't get that through to Bristol.
-Teaching your kid about sex and birth control. Even if you hope your kid will never use the information, even if your religion bans birth control entirely. Because (see last point) your kid may find themselves wanting that information. If you tell your kid that condoms fail more often than they succeed, and your kid doesn't use them, that is your fault. If you neglect to tell your kids that "pull & pray" is not a valid BC option, and they use that, it is your fault.
These three are supplementary reasons. They always go with this, the one thing that I've noticed in all teenage pregnancies (and related teenage fuckups like eloping with a random internet 30-year-old) :
You failed to instill the respect for her/himself and others needed to not have sex then.
Maybe you never paid enough attention to your kid and s/he thinks you don't love him/her.
Maybe you support your daughter's shopping habit instead of making sure she has self esteem that isn't contingent on others' approval.
Maybe you never had the chat with your son that every woman is someone's daughter, and possibly someone's sister or their future wife- treat her like you'd want someone else to treat your future wife.
Maybe you never told your kids that if their friends wouldn't be friends with them over something they didn't want to do, they're not their friends in the first place.
Maybe you didn't inspire your children to strive for anything better. The girls who got pregnant when I was in high school stayed in that small town, working jobs like gas station clerk and ice cream scooper. None have gotten any education after high school, not even stupid pottery courses at the local community college or anything like that. Some still live with their parents. But hey, why not have a baby in high school if no-one's ever showed you how life great can be if you get to go at it full force, if no-one's shown the confidence in you to tell you about it?
This is the vital one. Tell your kids that they don't have to have sex to be cool, they don't have to have sex to be loved. Tell them that they can see the world and have everything they never even knew they wanted, if they don't limit themselves by having a baby in high school. Make sure they believe you.
If you were a teenage parent yourself, is less damaging for you to say "I(we) love you and I couldn't live without you, but I could have given you a better life if I'd waited a few years to have you" than for you to let them believe that what you did was fine or even brilliant. If you have a first-hand example of how hard it was and how you never got the things you wanted, and you don't get it through to your kid, you are a double fuck up.
If you are the guardian of a teen who is/got someone else pregnant, you cannot call yourself a parent. Your lack of parenting ability has gimped your child's chances of a successful future. The fault for your kid's fuck up falls squarely on you. You are a fuck up.
5.9.08
Diplomacy and the workplace.
I was talking to a friend about some stuff happening at my job recently, and she said "C, every time you talk about work, I'm glad I don't work in [your branch of the media]."
I was talking with another friend some time ago about the same things, and he said that what I was complaining about was why he quit the media altogether.
Now, I love my job. Really. The problem is the people I work with. I'd do it for free if it showed up under my door every morning and I never had to deal with anyone else. My meager paycheck is bribing me to show up to the office itself.
One of my coworkers, we shall call her "Evil Ad Cow"(She's not really evil, but she is quick to anger and indignation), is between me and part of my job. There are a few very small tasks I can complete in the morning without her, like opening the programs and Web sites I'll be using, but then I'm stranded until she produces the specifications of what I can use where. I have a morning prep shift from 9 a.m. until 11 a.m., this sheet of specifications was not coming into my hands until 10:40. Questioning her about it revealed that she had until noon to get it to us, and she got it to us by 10 or 10:30 as "a courtesy," but she'll see if she can't get it done earlier. (She is in another department, which has apparently not been in the loop about how we're going to get more work done across the day.)
This week, the sheet is in my inbox before I even show up! I finish my work, get it all done-- and I stop by her office on my way out, to thank her and tell her that I really appreciate her getting the sheet to me early.
"Thank you, C," she chirps back, "I had some time before a meeting this morning, I'll try to keep getting it to you early."
Look! Look how easy that was!
On the other hand, we have a co-worker of mine, whom we will call Dylan (for reasons that will become apparent if I ever tell the Other Story about him). Recently, Dylan looked over a project he had not been involved in and found it to be very sub-par.
Dylan took all the e-mail addresses he could find in our department (missing some people, including a few who did not work here anymore) and sent out a long email with the subject line of" [DEPARTMENT], You really dropped the ball!"
He went on to tell us how we (I say we, but it's two people per project and this wasn't mine) made simple mistakes that could have been caught if we had any idea what this had been about, and since we clearly didn't we should have looked online, that we should have changed X (what he wanted changed was a valid thing for this type of project, even if he disagreed), and dropped an all-caps F word along the way.
I guess in training meetings where I've explained how diplomacy gets you your results so much faster, I hadn't been looking pointedly enough at him.
"Hey guys, when you're trying to get something worked out with another department, I know sometimes it's frustrating. But if you go over and say, '[Department!] You got this wrong and you need to fix it right now,' they will get defensive and not work with you. If you go over and say 'There's a problem, and these are the options for you to fix it,' they will 99% of the time fix it on short order. So apply some tact and diplomacy, it works wonders."
Dylan's complaint about other departments is, verbatim, "they get defensive and won't work with me." But he goes over and says, loudly, "You got this wrong and you need to fix it right now" whenever there's an issue.
I'm baffled at how he's never absorbed this, never absorbed that this chat about diplomacy was based on how his own words don't work, but then I remember the Other Story and say "Well, I suppose he's an egocentric nutjob misanthrope, so I shouldn't be surprised."
At any rate. As you might guess, the people who "dropped the ball" did not come forward seeking absolution, and in fact a meeting was scheduled for our immediate boss, the boss of our department of departments, and the Editor in Chief to have a happy chat about Dylan and what they wanted to do about this.
However (breaking news, I found this out as I was typing this), Dylan opted to quit the day the meeting was supposed to happen.
Ha, ha, ha. Good riddance.
Moral of the story: If you don't want the office to think you're a dickhead who's impossible to work with, don't be a dickhead who's impossible to work with.
---
Grammar of the day: Dangling modifiers.
Incorrect: "The dump will only be taking tree branches from city residents that were damaged during the storm." Residents damaged during the storm probably have more important things to worry about than who will take their tree branches.
Incorrect: "The dump will only be taking tree branches that were damaged during the storm from city residents." The city residents were not what damaged the branches during the storm.
Correct: "The dump will only be taking tree branches that were damaged during the storm, and only city residents are eligible."
I was talking with another friend some time ago about the same things, and he said that what I was complaining about was why he quit the media altogether.
Now, I love my job. Really. The problem is the people I work with. I'd do it for free if it showed up under my door every morning and I never had to deal with anyone else. My meager paycheck is bribing me to show up to the office itself.
One of my coworkers, we shall call her "Evil Ad Cow"(She's not really evil, but she is quick to anger and indignation), is between me and part of my job. There are a few very small tasks I can complete in the morning without her, like opening the programs and Web sites I'll be using, but then I'm stranded until she produces the specifications of what I can use where. I have a morning prep shift from 9 a.m. until 11 a.m., this sheet of specifications was not coming into my hands until 10:40. Questioning her about it revealed that she had until noon to get it to us, and she got it to us by 10 or 10:30 as "a courtesy," but she'll see if she can't get it done earlier. (She is in another department, which has apparently not been in the loop about how we're going to get more work done across the day.)
This week, the sheet is in my inbox before I even show up! I finish my work, get it all done-- and I stop by her office on my way out, to thank her and tell her that I really appreciate her getting the sheet to me early.
"Thank you, C," she chirps back, "I had some time before a meeting this morning, I'll try to keep getting it to you early."
Look! Look how easy that was!
On the other hand, we have a co-worker of mine, whom we will call Dylan (for reasons that will become apparent if I ever tell the Other Story about him). Recently, Dylan looked over a project he had not been involved in and found it to be very sub-par.
Dylan took all the e-mail addresses he could find in our department (missing some people, including a few who did not work here anymore) and sent out a long email with the subject line of" [DEPARTMENT], You really dropped the ball!"
He went on to tell us how we (I say we, but it's two people per project and this wasn't mine) made simple mistakes that could have been caught if we had any idea what this had been about, and since we clearly didn't we should have looked online, that we should have changed X (what he wanted changed was a valid thing for this type of project, even if he disagreed), and dropped an all-caps F word along the way.
I guess in training meetings where I've explained how diplomacy gets you your results so much faster, I hadn't been looking pointedly enough at him.
"Hey guys, when you're trying to get something worked out with another department, I know sometimes it's frustrating. But if you go over and say, '[Department!] You got this wrong and you need to fix it right now,' they will get defensive and not work with you. If you go over and say 'There's a problem, and these are the options for you to fix it,' they will 99% of the time fix it on short order. So apply some tact and diplomacy, it works wonders."
Dylan's complaint about other departments is, verbatim, "they get defensive and won't work with me." But he goes over and says, loudly, "You got this wrong and you need to fix it right now" whenever there's an issue.
I'm baffled at how he's never absorbed this, never absorbed that this chat about diplomacy was based on how his own words don't work, but then I remember the Other Story and say "Well, I suppose he's an egocentric nutjob misanthrope, so I shouldn't be surprised."
At any rate. As you might guess, the people who "dropped the ball" did not come forward seeking absolution, and in fact a meeting was scheduled for our immediate boss, the boss of our department of departments, and the Editor in Chief to have a happy chat about Dylan and what they wanted to do about this.
However (breaking news, I found this out as I was typing this), Dylan opted to quit the day the meeting was supposed to happen.
Ha, ha, ha. Good riddance.
Moral of the story: If you don't want the office to think you're a dickhead who's impossible to work with, don't be a dickhead who's impossible to work with.
---
Grammar of the day: Dangling modifiers.
Incorrect: "The dump will only be taking tree branches from city residents that were damaged during the storm." Residents damaged during the storm probably have more important things to worry about than who will take their tree branches.
Incorrect: "The dump will only be taking tree branches that were damaged during the storm from city residents." The city residents were not what damaged the branches during the storm.
Correct: "The dump will only be taking tree branches that were damaged during the storm, and only city residents are eligible."
31.8.08
Walk, you fucking lazy bastards.
I went with my fiance and some friends this weekend to an event one state over. He remarked that gas was about 12 cents more expensive there than it was here. One of the girls in our car commented: "At least gas isn't $4 per gallon."
My response: "That's like saying 'At least the dog only shit on the rug instead of rubbing it in'."
People who whine about gas prices are beginning to infuriate me because I know that gas will be $12/gallon before some of them give up their precious SUVs. I'm sick of polls asking people what gas price it will take before they change their driving habits, because I changed my driving habits when gas hit two dollars per gallon-- but it's not saving me much money, because I'm using half the gas at twice the price because peanut-dicks in H2s keep the demand high.
I used to drive like a lunatic. I knew exactly what manner of speed my car could reach on the low-traffic bit of highway between where I was and where I needed to be. Then gas started hitting 2 dollars, 2.20, 2.50. I told myself that fuel cost too much to drive inefficiently, and that I'd go back to driving like a bat out of hell when it fell back below two dollars.
Admittedly I still treat the speed limit as a suggestion, because going 55 on a flat road with no visibility issues and no other cars is fucking stupid, but I don't reach triple digits and coast the last few miles into town like I did then.
3 dollars per gallon? I don't visit my parents as much anymore, and I carpool when I do.
Almost 4 dollars? My car is staying where it is, I'm biking to my friends' houses and taking the bus to go grocery shopping. This weekend's drive could have been 4 cars with 2 people each, but we did it with one car and a van.
My mother has driven a little Geo Metro as long as I can remember. She buys extras, even busted ones from repo auctions, and she fixes them up to drive around. They get about 50 miles to the gallon. She's allowed to bitch about gas prices, because she's doing everything she can to conserve gas.
My father, on the other hand, drives a car that gets about half that. He insisted on visiting my brother recently, because my brother had left something at his house. Instead of mailing it for ~$20, my father drove here and back for about $40 in gas. My mother suggested taking a Metro; my father wanted to take a car with air conditioning.(My mother and I both roll our windows down.) He is not allowed to bitch.
If you drive a vehicle that gets less than 30mpg, without good reason*, you are not allowed to complain about fuel costs.
If you drive a Hummer or any sort of Hummer cross breed, an earnest discussion with your doctor will reveal amazing strides in penis enlargements, from pills to pumps to surgeries.
I'm angry that gas is a currency now-- When his car broke down, my father paid the guy who fixed it by filling up his truck. In high school, I paid for a friend's gas as part of flirting with him, like you might surprise someone with a CD you thought s/he'd like; now, a tank of gas costs more than a dozen roses.
Yes, gas companies raise prices because of looming hurricanes and whatnot, but they also raise them because they can. You'll note gas companies posting record profits this year-- I'm not talking about record gross income, mind you. Record profits.
Last time you drove by the gas station and said, damn, gas went up 10 cents this weekend, did you pick up an ad for a motor scooter?
Last time you filled up your car for the second time this week, did you map the distance from home to work to see whether it might be walkable?
Last time your debit card crossed your daily withdrawal limit because you got gas in the morning, did you swing by the bike shop?
Last time you debated not going on vacation because of gas costs, did you check your tire pressure, your oil, and your air filter?
I didn't think so. Suck it up, fuckwit, they've got no reason to lower gas prices when you keep buying it. Your whining is not part of the solution. You are not part of the solution. You're part of the problem. Shut the fuck up and do something about it, because I'm not going to pull over and help when I see you stranded on the side of one of those long gas station-less stretches of highway-- I will laugh my ass off instead.
*Good reason will be defined as "I live someplace where an SUV is actually a requirement to get out of my driveway" (this is true for one of my aunts), "I have more children than there are seatbelts in a normal car, including having someone sit in the middle of the back seat," (although I point out that this is your own fault), and "I only drive this vehicle when I have to, if I'm not hauling something then I drive an appropriate car."
My response: "That's like saying 'At least the dog only shit on the rug instead of rubbing it in'."
People who whine about gas prices are beginning to infuriate me because I know that gas will be $12/gallon before some of them give up their precious SUVs. I'm sick of polls asking people what gas price it will take before they change their driving habits, because I changed my driving habits when gas hit two dollars per gallon-- but it's not saving me much money, because I'm using half the gas at twice the price because peanut-dicks in H2s keep the demand high.
I used to drive like a lunatic. I knew exactly what manner of speed my car could reach on the low-traffic bit of highway between where I was and where I needed to be. Then gas started hitting 2 dollars, 2.20, 2.50. I told myself that fuel cost too much to drive inefficiently, and that I'd go back to driving like a bat out of hell when it fell back below two dollars.
Admittedly I still treat the speed limit as a suggestion, because going 55 on a flat road with no visibility issues and no other cars is fucking stupid, but I don't reach triple digits and coast the last few miles into town like I did then.
3 dollars per gallon? I don't visit my parents as much anymore, and I carpool when I do.
Almost 4 dollars? My car is staying where it is, I'm biking to my friends' houses and taking the bus to go grocery shopping. This weekend's drive could have been 4 cars with 2 people each, but we did it with one car and a van.
My mother has driven a little Geo Metro as long as I can remember. She buys extras, even busted ones from repo auctions, and she fixes them up to drive around. They get about 50 miles to the gallon. She's allowed to bitch about gas prices, because she's doing everything she can to conserve gas.
My father, on the other hand, drives a car that gets about half that. He insisted on visiting my brother recently, because my brother had left something at his house. Instead of mailing it for ~$20, my father drove here and back for about $40 in gas. My mother suggested taking a Metro; my father wanted to take a car with air conditioning.(My mother and I both roll our windows down.) He is not allowed to bitch.
If you drive a vehicle that gets less than 30mpg, without good reason*, you are not allowed to complain about fuel costs.
If you drive a Hummer or any sort of Hummer cross breed, an earnest discussion with your doctor will reveal amazing strides in penis enlargements, from pills to pumps to surgeries.
I'm angry that gas is a currency now-- When his car broke down, my father paid the guy who fixed it by filling up his truck. In high school, I paid for a friend's gas as part of flirting with him, like you might surprise someone with a CD you thought s/he'd like; now, a tank of gas costs more than a dozen roses.
Yes, gas companies raise prices because of looming hurricanes and whatnot, but they also raise them because they can. You'll note gas companies posting record profits this year-- I'm not talking about record gross income, mind you. Record profits.
Last time you drove by the gas station and said, damn, gas went up 10 cents this weekend, did you pick up an ad for a motor scooter?
Last time you filled up your car for the second time this week, did you map the distance from home to work to see whether it might be walkable?
Last time your debit card crossed your daily withdrawal limit because you got gas in the morning, did you swing by the bike shop?
Last time you debated not going on vacation because of gas costs, did you check your tire pressure, your oil, and your air filter?
I didn't think so. Suck it up, fuckwit, they've got no reason to lower gas prices when you keep buying it. Your whining is not part of the solution. You are not part of the solution. You're part of the problem. Shut the fuck up and do something about it, because I'm not going to pull over and help when I see you stranded on the side of one of those long gas station-less stretches of highway-- I will laugh my ass off instead.
*Good reason will be defined as "I live someplace where an SUV is actually a requirement to get out of my driveway" (this is true for one of my aunts), "I have more children than there are seatbelts in a normal car, including having someone sit in the middle of the back seat," (although I point out that this is your own fault), and "I only drive this vehicle when I have to, if I'm not hauling something then I drive an appropriate car."
29.8.08
Hi Pot, I'm Kettle.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7588435.stm
Wait, so, you're going to attack Obama for being too young and inexperienced in foreign policy... And then choose a vice president who's not even finished serving one term as governor of Alaska (previously mayor of a town of 8,000*), and is in fact younger than Obama?
Your vice president, who becomes the President of the Senate and furthermore becomes president in the event that your 72-year-old self keels over, has two of the main qualities you've been attacking in your opponent, except she has them even more so?
My god, you're really riding this Clinton-Obama cattiness, aren't you?
*(spokesman in article quoted as saying 9000, a 2004 census pegs it at 7,738, claimed here .)
Wait, so, you're going to attack Obama for being too young and inexperienced in foreign policy... And then choose a vice president who's not even finished serving one term as governor of Alaska (previously mayor of a town of 8,000*), and is in fact younger than Obama?
Your vice president, who becomes the President of the Senate and furthermore becomes president in the event that your 72-year-old self keels over, has two of the main qualities you've been attacking in your opponent, except she has them even more so?
My god, you're really riding this Clinton-Obama cattiness, aren't you?
*(spokesman in article quoted as saying 9000, a 2004 census pegs it at 7,738, claimed here .)
13.8.08
Living and working in hellholes and paradise.
There's a saying about careers, "Do what you love and you'll never work a day in your life." I've got to add, "Work where you love, and every day is a vacation."
I've been on a camping trip the past week or so, followed by a few days of tooling around the city. And I loved them both.
Lucky lucky me, I work in a field where I can get a job nearly wherever the hell I want. I'm going to push to get my internship done out there, get my foot in the door for a long-term position.
I'm not one of those people who says that if you hate your job, you should just quit-- because I've had people say that to me (before my current job) and it's infuriating. While it's nice for a person to assume you have the requisite skills, it's not exactly sympathetic-- especially in the current economy and when one lacks things such as savings to fall back on.
But, I interviewed a career advisor the other day, and he told me what he says to get people to pay attention: If you work 40 years with two weeks vacation per year, that is 2,000 Mondays you will have to get up and go to work, whether you want to or not. His point is to be careful picking your major and make sure you go into something you actually like; my point is that it baffles me when someone comes home and bitches about work all day. Find something you enjoy about it, try to do something about it, pick up an other-field-you're-interested-in-for-dummies book-- don't resign yourself to another 1,950 Mondays of hating your life.
(The difference is that the unsympathetic fuckwads think you should turn in your two week's notice right now, damn the consequences, while I think you should start poking your other options.)
By the same tack, don't live somewhere you hate. Again, don't up and move with no savings or prospects, but don't resign yourself to waking up somewhere that's too hot, too cold, too liberal, too conservative, too quiet, too loud, too whatever. Right now? I like where I live, for the most part. It's reasonably liberal, has decent events, has a lot of hole-in-the-wall restaurants where you can get a pile of food for five bucks if you aren't afraid of trying something new. (How to tell your ethnic restaurant is serving authentic food: the kitchen staff the servers the owners the customers are the claimed ethnicity.) It does, however, spend six months of the year making me bitch about "What sort of crazy person lives here voluntarily?" as I languish in front of a fan or chip ice off my windshield. And I've found a place that has the attitude, events, food, and weather that I want. So I'm making my plans.
Upshot: If where you live or work makes you hate your life, then a change of venue is probably worth the effort, even if it's not advisable to move/quit right this second. Look around.
I've been on a camping trip the past week or so, followed by a few days of tooling around the city. And I loved them both.
Lucky lucky me, I work in a field where I can get a job nearly wherever the hell I want. I'm going to push to get my internship done out there, get my foot in the door for a long-term position.
I'm not one of those people who says that if you hate your job, you should just quit-- because I've had people say that to me (before my current job) and it's infuriating. While it's nice for a person to assume you have the requisite skills, it's not exactly sympathetic-- especially in the current economy and when one lacks things such as savings to fall back on.
But, I interviewed a career advisor the other day, and he told me what he says to get people to pay attention: If you work 40 years with two weeks vacation per year, that is 2,000 Mondays you will have to get up and go to work, whether you want to or not. His point is to be careful picking your major and make sure you go into something you actually like; my point is that it baffles me when someone comes home and bitches about work all day. Find something you enjoy about it, try to do something about it, pick up an other-field-you're-interested-in-for-dummies book-- don't resign yourself to another 1,950 Mondays of hating your life.
(The difference is that the unsympathetic fuckwads think you should turn in your two week's notice right now, damn the consequences, while I think you should start poking your other options.)
By the same tack, don't live somewhere you hate. Again, don't up and move with no savings or prospects, but don't resign yourself to waking up somewhere that's too hot, too cold, too liberal, too conservative, too quiet, too loud, too whatever. Right now? I like where I live, for the most part. It's reasonably liberal, has decent events, has a lot of hole-in-the-wall restaurants where you can get a pile of food for five bucks if you aren't afraid of trying something new. (How to tell your ethnic restaurant is serving authentic food:
Upshot: If where you live or work makes you hate your life, then a change of venue is probably worth the effort, even if it's not advisable to move/quit right this second. Look around.
5.8.08
Money and lingerie
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/7541675.stm
For male readers, the only difference between the bra pictured and one available at Walmart is that it says Polizei across the band. Admittedly there are no Walmarts in Germany, but the point is that there's nothing really special about this bra. If you read the article, it claims that they're like sports bras, butwith no underwires or clasps -- Two features not standard in sports bras in the first place.
One of my journalism professors, if we were stumped following a story, told us "Money, money, money. Follow the money until you find out where it's coming from."
3000 bras, plus the number of surplus or spares, + distribution, + R &D. I don't know where it's coming from, but I bet it costs more than distributing informational fliers suggesting female cops wear a sports bra under their bulletproof vest, perhaps one packaged with every uniform or vest.
This is just not an example of good journalism. The writer did not talk to people outside the PR department (Offhand, I don't know Der Polizei's policy on officers talking to press, but there are surely some lingerie store owners who might have something to say), which meant that no-one pointed out to her(?) that these are just normal bras, and didn't ask the #2 question on dealing with everything government/bureaucracy related: "Who is paying for this BS?"
(The number one question is always "Is it true?")
Seriously, who wants a bra with their work position printed on it, anyway?
For male readers, the only difference between the bra pictured and one available at Walmart is that it says Polizei across the band. Admittedly there are no Walmarts in Germany, but the point is that there's nothing really special about this bra. If you read the article, it claims that they're like sports bras, butwith no underwires or clasps -- Two features not standard in sports bras in the first place.
One of my journalism professors, if we were stumped following a story, told us "Money, money, money. Follow the money until you find out where it's coming from."
3000 bras, plus the number of surplus or spares, + distribution, + R &D. I don't know where it's coming from, but I bet it costs more than distributing informational fliers suggesting female cops wear a sports bra under their bulletproof vest, perhaps one packaged with every uniform or vest.
This is just not an example of good journalism. The writer did not talk to people outside the PR department (Offhand, I don't know Der Polizei's policy on officers talking to press, but there are surely some lingerie store owners who might have something to say), which meant that no-one pointed out to her(?) that these are just normal bras, and didn't ask the #2 question on dealing with everything government/bureaucracy related: "Who is paying for this BS?"
(The number one question is always "Is it true?")
Seriously, who wants a bra with their work position printed on it, anyway?
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