…I am afraid.
The accuracy of this comic cannot be denied. Do not deny it. You are afraid, too. That’s ok. We can be afraid together, and giggle about it when the sun comes up. But when the sun is down there can be only silence, for laughter enrages the beast and invites destruction.
Everyone knows that.
If Obama hadn’t won, we wouldn’t have this picture. Isn’t that reason enough?
you voted romney? hmmm. that’s too bad.
I’m kidding. Gay rights, people, amirite?
I’m still jazzed about Obama winning a second term in office. Maybe the right word is relieved. I’m very relieved that Obama won over the latest Republican maniac, Romney. What a loon. I was frightened to think what Romney might take away from women in this country. My right to have an abortion (a terrible last resort, but a necessary option that shouldn’t be decided upon by men), having birth control covered by health insurance (do they want us to have unwanted children?), funding for Planned Parenthood (cancer screenings and sex education for all? Yes please). As a woman, I worried.
As a straight white person, I worried for my friends, for people I’ve never met. I thought to myself the other day, “I don’t have that many gay friends…” Then I started counting them. Oh yeah, that person. Oh yeah, I forgot about her, and her too. Oh yeah, I have a ton of them, and I love them all. Let’s not even get started on immigration. The vitriol Romney could barely conceal when he talked about “illegals” was scary. Don’t get me wrong, if you’re here illegally, shame on you, pay some taxes already. But you can’t tell people desperate to escape a violent country to have a better chance for their kids that they should just fuck off, cus too bad you weren’t lucky enough to be born here, so GTFO. As a straight white citizen, I worried.
There was a lot on the line this November. I’m relieved America made the smart choice. We were unimpressed, and in the end, disapproving of any other candidate (see above photo).
touched by his noodly appendage
Here’s what I can’t figure out: Why is the Republican party walking backwards? What are they so afraid of? In particular, why all the misinformation about rape? Don’t they have wives, daughters, sisters? Haven’t they thought about what kinds of options they would want the women in their lives to have if something awful like rape happened to one of them? I have to conclude that they must keep the concept of rape in a hypothetical, airtight box which is what makes it so easy for them to take a purely hypothetical stance on abortion that demands that even a woman who is raped take the pregnancy to term. It’s insane. I feel like I’m taking crazy pills.
Thank FSM that Obama won the election. Where would we be without him? I loathe to imagine a Romney/Ryan America. Scares the shit outta me.
Everyone’s freaking out about GMOs like
and I’m just like
I keep asking for peer-reviewed, scientific evidence to support the fearful outcry for labeling GMOs, and I keep getting stuff like this:
-“Explains why teens are hitting puberty earlier, and other public health related issues. You have the right to know what’s in your food. I don’t like secrets….”
-“Why not use a precautionary approach. We know that women can drink some alcohol when they’re pregnant, but we urge women to avoid alcohol during pregnancy b/c we don’t have conclusive evidence about how much is ok.”
-“Why wouldn’t you want to know if the oranges you’re eating have been spliced with frog genes?”
Science, people. SCIENCE. Science to create, science to check what you just created, science to improve it. I asked for science, they gave me “but why not? I have the RIGHT TO KNOW.” Oh yeah? Know what, exactly? That corporations shouldn’t be held responsible for your unfounded fears about a food process that could help end world hunger, but you’re gonna hold them back because you think there might be something yucky about it? No, I don’t think you have that right. Do some research, read some peer-reviewed science papers, then get back to me.
Anyway, needless to say, I’ve probably lost some friends on Facebook.
Picture, if you will, a confident, happy, athletic young girl. One of her friends says she needs a makeover. The others girls nearby start to chatter about what they would do to fix her hair, face and clothing. Picture this confident, happy, athletic girl, listening to all the little ways her friends find her inadequate, not feminine enough, and generally lacking. Watch while she tightens her ponytail and brushes her hair out of her face self-consciously. Suddenly, playing football with the boys every morning before class is embarrassing. Winning arm wrestling contests is no longer allowed to be a source of pride. Watch her face fall while her friends tell her with great enthusiasm that her priorities are all wrong, that her appearance is a problem, that her favorite activities are something “tomboys” do (read: not ok). Her best friend looks her up and down, and says, “Yeah, we could do a lot for your makeover.”
The below video sums it up with stark accuracy:
I struggled to find a group of friends who did not do this to me on a more or less annual basis. I’m 28 now, and I’ve finally built good friendships with people who know me well enough to see that I have my own fashion sense, my own concept of beauty, and my own set of standards for what I find admirable and feminine. I thought I was past all that childish bullshit. Silly me.
One of my coworkers made an off-handed comment today: “I should give you a make-over.” It took all my strength not to throw my purse at her fat face.
lose some weight, fatass
First: What the fuck goes through people’s heads just before they say “You need a makeover”? Do they really think their opinion about someone else’s appearance would override that person’s own opinion?
Second: What do they think people’s reactions will be? “Thank GOD you brought it up. I’ve been sitting in my cubicle for years just WAITING for someone to FIX me!”
When I told her that was insulting, she said, “No it’s not,” because she would know, being the recipient of the comment OH WAIT, NO, that was me. I asked her what was wrong with what I was wearing, to which she (naturally) replied, “Nothing,” and then, “it’s just to enhance yourself.” WTF does that even mean? Why do I need enhancing? What the hell was she talking about?
Of course what she meant was, “You need to stop wearing pants and wear more dresses, makeup, heels, and do your hair for once. You need to dress more femininely.” I’ve had… I’m gonna go ahead and say a few dozen people tell me I need a makeover over the course of my 28 years. In case you’re thinking, “A few dozen people can’t be wrong, better call Bravo and get Tim Gunn on this girl stat,” here’s a quick rundown of my general appearance:
Casual attire: fitted jeans (skirts when it’s hot) and t-shirts (if they’re good enough for Natalie Portman, they’re good enough for me)
Office attire: slacks (dresses or skirts when it’s hot) and blouses or sweaters with flat shoes
Overall
-I wear clothing that is clean, presentable, and unoffensive.
-I never wear makeup. Ever.
-I wear my hair in a ponytail almost every day. I never dye, blow dry, curl, or otherwise alter my hair. It’s long, dark, straight, shiny, healthy, and often envied.
-I never wear heels of any height (I’m 5’8″ btw, a solid 2-3 inches taller than my coworker).
-I wear deodorant almost every day at work (especially when it’s hot).
-I almost never wear jewelry (my ears keep closing up). I wear one simple necklace every day: a citrine stone on a brown thread.
-My teeth are a normal white-ish color.
-I have always had clear skin.
this was once considered the height of fashion. I rest my case.
Picture the person I have just described. What makes this person in need of a makeover? That’s right, nothing. Not only that, I like the way I dress, and so do the people who compliment my clothing (both at the office and elsewhere). I look great and I feel good. What’s the fucking problem?
Obviously there’s no problem with me. The problem is with her: I’m not dressing/presenting myself the way she (or any other vapid cow who has told me I need a makeover) thinks I should dress/present myself. So who does a makeover help? The subject (read: victim), or the observers who inflict it upon them? What’s the point of a makeover?
There are loads of (ambush) makeover shows out there, and they all follow roughly the same formula. Let’s map it out:
-Hear how painfully sad the subject’s friends are for her because her fashion sense is inadequate in some way (in their opinion).
-Show footage of the subject wearing one of her typical (read: hideous) outfits. Cue collective cringe.
-Ambush the subject with a camera crew and token “Celebrity Makeover Expert” (CME) who has arrived just in time to “help” the subject.
-Watch the subject defend her clothing as “comfortable.”
-CME and subject’s “friends” shame the subject until she feels forced to obey CME.
getting drunk is the best way to feel fashionable. an inconvenient purse, standing pidgeon-toed in heels, and laughing at nothing works too, apparently.
Each step is necessary to convince the viewer that the otherwise useless CME is a valuable contributor to our society. It assures the audience by affirming the status quo, and feeds on their inadequacies by touting fashion sense as something precious, difficult to attain, and very necessary. It’s genius. But who does it help? What’s the point?
The audience is a willing participant in this circus, which cannot always be said of the subjects (poor little lambs). This is the part where we turn back to the little girl being gently rebuked by her supposed friends for her natural tendencies toward athleticism and “tomboyishness.” Who are they helping by encouraging her to be more like them? More recently, why did my coworker think she was being generous, when really she was being… I don’t know… hypocritical?
most women look like this to me. less is more, ladies.
For example, I am not enslaved by the need to wear makeup and “do” my hair every day. Many women (including my coworker) are. Why would she want to submit me to the same enslavement she currently suffers under? She complains about the time commitment and energy it takes to get ready in the morning, and how she feels “naked” without makeup on. Why would she wish that on me? What is going on in her head?
As I left the office, my coworker said to a student nearby, “You just watch, one day she’s gonna come in here wearing a pink dress, curled hair, makeup, the whole thing, hahaha.” I walked back to her office and blurted out, “I DO have a pink dress! A brightpink dress! I’ve worn it TWICE! I wear dresses all the time!” She said, “Really? Oh.” She’s so (insert insult to intelligence and ability to observe the obvious here), she doesn’t even notice when I do meet her ridiculous standards.
The bottom line is this: An offer for a makeover is an insult veiled by a childish level of enthusiasm for the dubious honor of being considered fashionable, a title unfairly withheld/bestowed by charlatans parading their “expertise” regarding a subject so fleeting and subjective, that any claim to have conquered it is a fantasy. Simply put: just because you’re excited doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be insulted. I’m not threatening you, my job security, the innocence of children, or the staunchly religious with my fashion choices. What the fuck should I care about what you think fashionable is? Why shouldn’t I just wear what I want?
No really. Why?
I cannot express how pleased I am that this is a thing. I love that people suddenly care about art restoration enough to poke fun at a botched up job to the extent that it becomes an internet meme, and a fantastic Halloween costume. Go on, humanity 🙂
how could it possibly be that bright orange color? did i forget to add the unicorn shit?
I’ve never really tried to cook anything ambitious, so imagine my surprise when I made a soup from scratch the other day and it turned out crazy delicious. It’s a butternut squash, corn and lemongrass soup, and it’s not difficult (assuming you have something that can puree soft vegetables). Sister’s really big on healthy food right now, and she loves vegetables (apparently, who knew?), so she went nuts on this soup, which pleased me to no end. It’s also really pretty, and super healthy. My first soup made from scratch: Win!
After this one success, I thought to myself, “Self, you can cook anything! Let’s make something else!” At which point I started to fail.
Goal: make a delicious pumpkin-themed drink for my pumpkin carving Halloween party next month. I landed on something called Pumpkin Cider. (see picture)
Actual outcome: brown, slimy, over-flavored, alcoholic muck I was reticent to pour down the drain for fear of angering it. (see picture)
I got all the ingredients together, and read the comments on the website (one person actually complained about it being too thick, but didn’t seem to follow the recipe). I followed all the instructions, except for the one that said to add the spiced rum after the whole concoction had simmered on the stove for 20 minutes. That batch quickly turned the consistency of snot, and was unceremoniously thrown out. I added everything in the right order the second time, and the result was… totally overwhelmingly unpleasant. It was a combination of things I love (pumpkin flavor, spiced rum, home made whipped cream, pumpkin pie spice, apple cider) that combined to create some kind of diarrhea-colored dream-killer.
Naturally I had boyfriend try it first. He said something very kind and diplomatic like, “…I wasn’t expecting that flavor. Let me try it again.” Then he stopped trying it and said, “It doesn’t know what it wants to be.” I could not agree more. Epic Halloween drink fail.
win!
Then I got kinda depressed. I really wanted this to work out. I really want a cute little treat for my friends when they come to carve pumpkins and play spooky games! The pouting went on for a good 24 hours, but I wasn’t about to give up because FUCK THAT. I LOVE Halloween. I was going to create something delicious for my friends for my favorite holiday, and they were going to love it, dammit.
So I tried again, this time with something called Liquid Pumpkin Pie. It used a milk base and significantly less canned pumpkin, which was already a good sign that my ineptitude as a cook would not be manifested a second time in the form of some kind of brown sludge and disappointment.
To my utter surprise, it turned out fantastic. (see picture) Boyfriend tried it, and nodded furiously with huge eyes, then asked for a mug of it to drink while playing WoW (pandas, ugh). It even remotely resembled the recipe photo. Success!
I thought it best not to post this until a couple of weeks after my grades got posted, lest the professor in question do a search and find my blog. I can’t say I honestly care anymore, so I’m posting it. Naturally, names have been changed.
My first semester of graduate school is over (except for those two papers I have yet to complete). Once those are done, I have a week before the next semester starts, at which point I will stop having a life once again, only this time I’m prepared, lol.
The funny thing about learning how to teach is that I’m constantly checking the teaching methods of my instructors. I took two classes this semester: one instructor was awesome (insightful, encouraging, engaging, the whole nine yards), while my other instructor was… worthy of the anonymous scathing review I just left for him (they could not have been more different. This semester was weird). It went something like this:
my professor grading my papers
What are the instructor’s main strengths?
[something about how he got along with another student with a similar upbringing, go figure]
How could the instructor improve?
He should pour himself a stiff drink and read my “additional comments.”
Additional Comments
-He said “friggin a” on the second day of class after becoming frustrated by the questions asked by students (time stamp: between 2:23:40-2:25:13). The student he said this to was visibly embarrassed. Toward the end of the semester, that student told me that he was still reticent to speak in this class because of that experience, even though two and a half months had passed since then.
-He did not leave time for students to formulate and ask questions.
-He often spent the first 30-45 minutes of class monologuing about the reading while referring to a PowerPoint presentation, and reviewed the readings almost verbatim. This is particularly ironic since the necessity of student participation in classroom discussion was often a topic. We were taught through monologue that we should not monologue a lesson to our students, since this is not conducive to learning.
-On one occasion, he emailed students 25 minutes before class was scheduled to start that he could not attend, saying he would record the lecture for us to view later. He sent an email four days later that the lecture was on the website, however it was not. Two students mentioned that they could not find the recorded lecture on the website two days before class; two more mentioned that they had the same difficulty the day before class, all without response from the professor. It was not until a student suggested, during class, that he may have uploaded it for private viewing rather than public viewing that he discovered that was the problem. He blamed the changes made to the online platform.
-Students’ group contributions were cut short and treated as unimportant. During a week 8 class (time stamp: between 2hr and 2hr8min), we were told to keep it short, and pretend we were calling into a radio show. He said, “You got 30 seconds!” He blamed the length of the class.
-Turning in papers early was impossible to do without being punished. The class before the due date, we always found a problem with the directions that demanded that I alter my paper and resubmit it. Inept Instructor marked me down in one instance when he said he would not due to conflicting instructions (when I reminded him, he said he would fix it–three weeks later I sent him an email reminding him that he said he would do this. Only then did my grade reflect the changes he said he would make weeks prior). He said he needed to check his rubric to see how many points he allots to each portion of the paper in question, then correct his mistake. The second time there were problems with a paper I handed in early, I resubmitted the paper with corrections, but he graded the wrong one, and asked me to fix problems I had already fixed (and handed in) a week prior. He blamed the class for not reading instructions closely enough, ignoring the fact that instructions for the various parts of assignments were often found in different documents, and just as often, didn’t match what the other documents’ instructions.
-He incorrectly pointed out a problem with my APA formatting on a paper (and docked me for it). When I emailed him pointing out the error, his reply was, “That’s awesome.” He restored one point to my paper, bringing it from an A- to an A. I heard from another student in the class that he mistakenly docked her for the same non-issue, and recommended that she bring it to his attention. I’m concerned about how many other students he may have wrongly docked for this same issue, and how it affected their grades. Although he changed my grade, he never admitted there was a problem, and dodged any blame for his mistake.
-He sent an email to the class reminding us that there would be no class on Labor Day, which would have been very considerate if he had not sent it at 8:35pm on Labor Day.
-He sent curt emails to the students for not handing in their papers on time, only to discover that he could not receive emails from non-USC email addresses. He blamed his IT department, and took no credit for the mistake. If a student were to encounter a problem like this, he would be penalized for not checking our systems beforehand to avoid this problem (we are told, for example, that it is the students’ responsibility to check our cameras and audio setup for problems well before class to deal with any potential issues because if a technical problem keeps us from being in class, we are punished by being considered absent, and receive no credit for that day’s class time).
During the last class, when a student asked where the class evaluation form could be found, Inept Instructor said he had no idea. He blamed the online platform format for hiding it. The professor for my other class not only knew where it was, but on the last day of class, directed us to it and reminded us to fill it out.
thank you, interwebz, for reading my mind
-I write this the day after the last class: 1/3 of my assignments remain ungraded. In addition, none of my class participation points have been posted. If I have received credit for going to class, I have yet to see evidence of it in the grades section of the online platform. Of all the forum postings, papers, and class time scores (not counting the final paper, for which the due date has not yet passed), only seven of the 23 scores possible (30%) for this class have been graded and put on the online platform. When a student asked Inept Instructor a month ago if he would be putting more of our grades up, Inept Instructor replied, “I think you’ve figured it out…I’m slow 🙂 Your analysis papers are graded and posted. I will be assigning individual forum posting and class participation grades.” The latter statement, at least, has proven to be untrue. I wonder what he thinks the purpose of the “grades” section of the online platform is, if not to PUT OUR GRADES UP.
One running theme in Inept Instructor’s teaching style was a complete lack of accountability on his part. Though all these mistakes, both big and small, were clearly Inept Instructor’s fault, not only did he take zero credit for any of them, but the only apology Inept Instructor ever offered was when he apologized for not being able to make it to class. Of course, he voiced this apology to his camera when he recorded the make-up class, effectively eliminating our ability to respond to him as a group, and sapping the apology of any authenticity.
I did not find Inept Instructor to be a motivating, interesting, or well-organized instructor. He did not seem to grasp the concept that, “Just because you’re talking doesn’t mean your students are learning.” I learned more about what NOT to do in a classroom from watching Inept Instructor than I did from our readings and discussions. Thanks for a valuable learning experience, Inept Instructor.
No matter where you go, people agree: bugs should be rounded up and killed, and they would be if they weren’t so damn useful and amazing.
i made this
he looked a little bit like this, pretty disoriented
On my walk to work today, I saw what looked like a plastic bag in the street. Then I realized the part in the air was a tail. It was a light gray kitten, and his head was resting in a small pool of blood. I thought, “How sad,” and kept walking. Then I heard it meow. Not a normal meow, but a loud, kinda of skreeching-howling meow. I thought, “O god,” and kept walking, trying to figure out what to do. I would be late to work if I helped it. I had to go to work, right? It was probably next to death and would die soon anyway, right? Its injuries were probably severe, so it would die any second, so I should just go to work, right?
I couldn’t say what stopped me. I just realized it wasn’t in line with my priorities to let a kitten die in the street when I hadn’t even checked to see if it was save-able. I turned around and walked back, searching on my phone for emergency veterinarians in the area. I knelt down to have a look at the kitten, which was still breathing, and struggle to open its eyes to look at me. The only damage I could see was to the part of its face that was on the ground. The rest of him looked ok. Fine, I thought, I’ll try to get him some help. I stood up next to the kitten as some cars approached to make sure he didn’t get hit. A mail drop-off at the base of my parking structure was open, so I walked over and asked around for a cardboard box. The guy who found me one said, “Is it for that cat? Is it still alive?” I nodded. [it only just now occurs to me that he may have hit it] He came out with me and held my Kindle while I scooped up the kitten as gently as I could and placed him in the box. I wiped some blood off my hand onto the box and thanked the man as I stood to leave. He called me back as I walked away and told me that there was an animal hospital not far from us. I booked it to the car and drove east.
The place I found wasn’t a vet, but was definitely cat friendly (there were young cats playing, sleeping, sitting all over the place. One slept on a pile of mail in an in-box, another dozed on a computer tower). She printed out an address for an animal rescue that could help. I sped west, keeping an eye on the kitten to make sure I could still see it breathing. Once I found the place, a blonde woman waiting for service inside took one look at the box and knew it meant trouble. I told her the details, and she thanked me for being a good person. “Hey,” she said to the woman behind the counter. “We’ve got a trauma case here.” They said they weren’t taking trauma cases right now, and that I should go to the shelter a few blocks away. The blonde woman next to me wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Is the doctor in? Yeah, we need to see her. We can’t leave this kitten like this.”
Turns out her name is Mary K, and she owns a shelter in Las Vegas called All the Same Wild and Tame. She drives to LA once per week to pick up animals that would otherwise be euthanized. Her “bestest friend” was also there. She gave me some pamphlets and info on their organization once I was done crying. She took charge of the situation, and for that, I was very grateful. I called work to let them know I’d be late.
looks accurate
We went back with the nurse (doctor?) to get the kitten checked out. She had a look at him, wiped some of the blood off his face, pulled his eyelids open one at a time, and had a look inside his mouth. Then she picked him up and felt along his body and legs to see if anything else was damaged. He tried to run away, but they wrapped him back up in the towel Mary K had brought in from her truck for me. She left to check on getting me an estimate, and a few minutes later, another nurse (doctor?) came in to let me know that they wanted to do x-rays to see if there was damage to the bones in his face in particular, and to put him on fluids and antibiotics, and keep him over for a couple of days. Total: $200. I said yes to everything.
I went outside and paid. Mary K gave me a hug and thanked me for being a good person again (at which point I almost cried again), and I drove to work. My coworkers wanted to know how the kitten was, and how I was. I gave the shelter a call a couple hours ago; they said the kitten’s x-rays were clear, and that he was fine. They’re still going to keep him for a couple of days, just to make sure he’s ok.
Now I just need to figure out how to convince Boyfriend to let me keep him (if I move in with him, STILL WAITING TO HEAR BACK ABOUT THAT PART OF MY FUTURE, GAH). I already told him all about it when he called me about an hour ago. He could not stop laughing and saying, “Adorable.” I don’t think he thought I was serious about keeping the kitten. But I think I’d like to. I think I’d really like to. And kinda not. I don’t know. Pretty torn. He’s so cute. They needed a name when I paid the bill. I wrote down “Shorty.” The nurse said he probably wasn’t gray, but white and filthy. A white cat named Shorty. Pretty cute.
Be Random, Be Clear 
