Monthly Archives: February 2013

Meet Me In D.C.!

forward-on-climate-poster_1When I was 8 years old I went to Washington D.C. for the first time. My only memories of the trip were $3 bottles of water, huge Lincoln knees, and first-time thigh chafing. Obviously, it made quite the impact.

Despite my love/hate relationship with politics I have never returned to D.C. as an adult. This weekend I have a great reason.

Sunday, February 17, 2013 will be the largest climate rally in history. Thousands of protesters around the country are joining together in downtown Washington to protest the Keystone XL Pipeline currently awaiting final legislation from President Obama. The Keystone XL Pipeline is a project designed by Trans-Canada to transfer crude oil throughout Canada and the United States all the way down to the Southern border. This damages the global environment not only by the increased use of oil, but it will threaten the very need and development of renewable clean energy that could help reduce green house gasses and global warming. But on a local level it is equally frightening, with water sources poisoned during pipe leaks, causing disease and death in thousands of individuals affected by the seizing of land by government and private corporations to force this project through.

But rather than preach to you about the pros and cons of the pipeline, I invite you to read up on it, learn about it, and decide for yourself what to believe. Should you determine for yourself that corporate interests are not worth continued destruction of the environment join me at the rally! I will be there with my able-bearded bodied man along with thousands of other people. If you are so inclined, send me an email woodstock788@gmail.com

Love,

The girl who hopes to see you there

Links to check out!

http://350.org/en/about/blogs/join-forwardonclimate-solidarity-rally-217

http://www.foe.org/projects/climate-and-energy/tar-sands/keystone-xl-pipeline

http://www.sierraclub.org/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Keystone_XL_pipeline

My Clumsy Transition Into Adulthood (In Pictures)

“All I get are dicks. Nobody needs this many dicks in their life.”

-This is something I just said out loud. A nice reminder that the world is better when not taken literally.

Anyway.

Today while at work I reviewed the contents of  two 5 year old flashdrives and one 4 year old external hard drive. Because I need something to do between people hanging up on me and hexing my first born. Along with a plethora of rhyme-heavy wrist-cutting poetry, pictures of Penelope Cruz (?), and tear-filled letters to my ex-husband I found three photographs that perfectly depict my clumsy transition into adulthood, ages 16-18.

1. (age 16, summer before senior year)

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I was very into looking homeless, when I was in high school.

And hunchbacked.

Like a homeless hunchbacked hippy.

With a huge rack.

2. Age 17 (Senior week, Ocean City, MD)

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I…I can’t even talk about this.

3. 18 (Alternative Spring Break – Assateague Island, Maryland)

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This is how I spent my freshman spring break. While my peers were doing body shots off of each other’s herpes scabs, I was logrolling down a sand dune. That’s me in the green. Don’t worry. I’m not pregnant. I just look that way sometimes.

 

That’s it.

That’s all I have to offer you right now. I’m in a funk de misery (not real French) with zero energy or desire to do anything but sit and stew in my own lack of motivation. It could have something to do with the mammoth storm pummeling the east coast and the fact that I work at the only school in a 4,000 mile radius of the storm that isn’t closing (not real figures). Or maybe that for the first time in my life, I referred to someone younger than me as “dear” during a phone call.

Either way I’m getting old. So old. We all are. All of us 80’s babies. These pictures coupled with this pop culture conversation prove how irrelevent we all are:

Me: But you do know who the Spice Girls are, right?
Him: Yeah. Beyonce and those two other chicks.

Even our memories are going. It’s sad. So so sad.

Love,

The girl no one believes when she tells them about her rape whistle. But it’s real. Very, very real.

This Blog is About Nothing

After 3 hours of Intervention, half of The Big Lebowski, and 2 more hours of Intervention, I fell asleep last night at 10:30, face down in the free Red Cross t-shirt I got for attempting to donate blood they ultimately rejected, as my able-bearded bodied man (who desperately needs a nickname less than 7 syllables) sat alone in the other room, likely asking himself why he ever bothered to move in. I personally believe he did, so I could have early morning conversations like this:

Me: (waking up, panicked) What time is it?

Him: (startled, disoriented) It’s 4 hours for each plant.

Me: (checks phone) It’s 6:53

Him: Right

 

I definitely find this funnier than it actually is.

Kind of like how he feels about The Big Lebowski.

Love,

The girl with the Dragon Tales tattoo

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No Facebook February

February 2013 is “No Facebook February.” Or so I have declared it.

 
I have been using Facebook to replace real friendships since the spring of 2006, as a senior in high school.

 
It followed me to college where I be-”friended” the entire University baseball team and weird Renaissance Club kids I never had any actual interest in talking to but was too nice and desperate for a larger friend count, to deny.

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I graduated from college and recorded the downfall of my “too-young-and-too-stupid-to-tell-the-difference-between-first-love-and-husband-material” marriage for two years; posting wedding photos, deleting wedding photos, quoting Bob Dylan lyrics, and depression-weight loss pictures.

 
Following up on that stellar life decision, I moved to Tennessee and used Facebook to screen romantic prospects, which didn’t help much when I was sitting in my living room with a drug addict musician whose only criteria for passing my Facebook screening was “liking” The Allman Brothers, revealed his recent release from a mental institution.

 
Moving back to Pennsylvania, Facebook kept me company as I bummed it on my mother’s couch for two months before getting a part-time job. It also continued to remind me of the incredible failure I am to the social advancements of the human race, with my lack of interest in interacting with anyone outside of a 2×2, blue and white chatbox.

 
It kept me relevant in random bar friendships, cultivated from my singular bar outing in 2012, when I moved to a new apartment, in a new town, where I had no friends, and no life plan beyond online dating and drinking alone.

 
But it lost its relevance when I fell in love with my able-bearded bodied man whose presence helped remind me of the value that could be contrived from life when real relationships were a larger focus than 2-dimensional cyber stalking.

 
Still it’s taken 7 months for me to stronghold the desire to break my Facebook habit, for me to actually do it. And even now I can only commit to a No Facebook February and not a No Facebook Life. I can only explain it with haphazard math that probably means nothing, but has to mean something, if you really think about it.

 
I have been on Facebook almost every single day for 7 years. I visit Facebook, admittedly, more than I visit my father, mother, brother, sister, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, or toilet, combined, each day. If I’m keeping it real, maybe 15 times a day, adding up to approximately 3 hours each day, give or take a few. Now here’s the (estimated) math that gives me ulcers:

 
7 years x 365 = 2,555 days on Facebook
2,555 days x 15 visits to Facebook per day = 38,325 visits since I started

 

 

Which ultimately means:
2,555 days x 3 hours a day = 7,665 hours on Facebook

 
Which further means that over my last 7 years of life, I have spent 319 days on Facebook, which is easily the most depressing, stupidest decision, I have ever made in my life. And the worst part is?

 
I have NOTHING to show for it.

 

SO…

 

For the naysayers, the nonbelievers, the bored readers who tuned out when I started doing math. If you are a Facebook user, I encourage you to do the math on your own Facebook life.
I then invite you to take the No Facebook February Challenge with me.

Drink the Kool-Aid. Drink it down.

Drink the Kool-Aid. Drink it down.

I started 4 hours ago and it’s been interesting. I have already had to deny myself Facebook log-in three time. It’s been brutal.

So to entertain myself I’ve been coming up with band names for the indie/punk/emo/folk-rock group I’m starting as soon as I get fired and learn to play the ukulele. This is what I’ve got:

 

Stench of Saliva
Ted Bundy’s Mother
The Waffle House Whores
Asian Impregnation
Chest Day Motivational

Rock n’ Roll.

Love,

The girl who maintains that the world would be a better place if candles were edible