Yes, I Am A Woman

There is one thing I find really absurd. Well, actually, I find lots of things absurd, but this is one of the things I feel like ranting about at the moment. It's hilarious when people get surprised that I like something. No one bats an eyelash when I tell them that I love Star Wars, Spiderman, and Xena (although, someone which hasn't seen the show once told me it was appalling that I liked it), but as soon as I wear heels, have a pink phone, or get caught watching a Disney movie marathon, the what bet did you lose jokes start.

It makes sense that no one is surprised at my standard guy nerd interests because to be fair I am likely wearing a T-shirt that states the fact. But what I don't get is why people are so surprised when I like "chick" things. Contrary to popular belief I am a woman. (Please hold off all gasp spasms until the end.)

I like fashion to some extent. (Hold it.) I'm not talking the runway bologna, but actual clothes that people wear. The way style changes over time just fascinates me as well as why a person chooses the clothes they do. Believe it or not I can actually help you pick out a nice outfit (if need be just hold your breath). I just don't want one for myself. I'll be the comfortable one over here thanks. Nothing compares to the wide-eyed looks of "did that just happen?" when I comment on how much I love that one character's dress. The shiney black dress in Shock Treatment made me all giddy. (Seriously, you're going to pass out of hyperventilation if you don't wait.)

I say I love the show Pretty Little Liars and some people's heads just up and explode. When I tell them I love the outfits the characters are wearing I have lost them entirely. They end up like the on ship computer when Arthur Dent tried to explain tea to it. It may have been easier to explain rocket science in a few of these cases.

When I say I love Disney movies it somehow manages to be the most baffling thing in the world to people despite it being something everyone loves. (If you say you don't love at least one you are a liar!) My theory is that this stems from my hatred of being called a princess that arrose from a very unique form of child rearing in which you drown your child in a subject until they hate it. In this case it would be called Princess Smoothing. I do love fairy tales, but hell will have to freeze over, explode like a Michael Bay movie, and then reassemble like a Dragonball Z villain before I will ever want to be a princess. (Though, if someone wanting to give me Amazon princesshood or a chakrum...)

Moving on, I am a big fan of the novel Pride and Prejudice. The fact people are surprised by this has to be one of the most baffling things to me. It's a famous example of early feminism. Come on people. That ass is not supposed to be a hat. I actually know very few people who have read the book (no the version with zombies doesn't count). But I say I like it and I get that same look as if I just declared I was a one eyed purple unicorn named Frank. The movie Lost in Austen (which is a must see for all fans of Pride and Prejudice) is one of my favorite things ever because it runs amuck with the story in the most hilariously respectful way. When I mentioned this fact to my older sister, the thing she said is, "it's funny how you'll get into such girly movies."

I know this may be hard for the world to understand, but I am a woman. (Alright, go ahead and gasp spasm already. You're turning purple anyways.) Can you people not see that I have boobs? I know the comfy clothing may abstruct your view a bit, but they are there I promise. I can like princesses without wanting to be one. I can read "girly" novels (except Twilight! Shoot me if I ever read Twilight!) I can even like dresses and still not want to wear one ever. (Sorry mom it's not happening.)

I find people's reactions so ridiculous when they find these things out. It's like I just told them Santa Claus isn't real and they didn't get the build up as a small child where they already sorta had it figured out. To be honest I could probably say the one eyed purple unicorn thing and get less weird looks than I do when I say, "damn, I love that dress!" (My actual statement upon seeing the black dress in Shock Treatment.)

More Accepted?

This is just something that has been bothering me lately. Everyone is always telling me that being a gay chick is more accepted than being a gay guy. To which I loudly declare, "Bullshit!" And go on a ten minute rant.

The truth is that it's not more accepted. Sure you do hear people bitching about two guys kissing more than two women doing so, but that is because the two guys kissing is taken seriously.

People only get upset when they think that something is a threat. Two guys kissing equals threat. Two women kissing equals entertainment. You have to admit there is a good deal of thought process behind women kissing that goes along the lines of, "they're doing it to impress guys." That thought process does not exist when it comes to two guys kissing. They're not doing it to impress girls they are just gay.

Let's look at media. Despite the fact that a shit ton of LGBT media is incredibly depressing (a rant for another time) there is always more graphic sex scenes in the movies about two women. Exhibit A: Brokeback Mountain vs. Black Swan. Both won Oscars and to be fair they aren't really the same thing, but think about it. Mila Kunis and Natalie Portman together was a far more graphic sex scene than Jake Gillenhall and Heath Ledger. In films about gay guys, the sex bit is danced around whereas just about any film ever with two woman it is played up as much as possible.

Another thing you will notice is that in films about gay men, they don't pull the whole well actually he's bi thing. I have read and seen a few to many books, movies, and TV shows where they pull that card to create drama or they pull the whole it was just a phase thing. Sure sexuality can be pretty fluid, but dear God, it's the same for men. Can we please stop seeing this plot twist or show at least one show in which that "gay" guy somehow falls for the chick. Please?

Then there is the one thing that bothers me just in general. Will and Grace. (Gasp Spasm!) I know I just blasphemed over the entire world of the gay best friend obsessed, but come on. I've seen episodes of Will and Grace, so I'm not just spouting from ignorance here and I will admit some of the jokes are fabulous. They just make them to much and if I watch more than an episode at a time I get monumentally annoyed. I actually did a little math. (Yes I'm a nerd. Moving on.)

After watching a few shows, I came to an average of about seven gay jokes per episode. In a television show that averages 22 minutes once you cut out commercials that leaves you with a gay joke every 3 minutes-ish. (If you want to get down to the second do the math yourself.) I don't know about you, but my sexuality is talked about not often actually. I do other stuff in my day to day life besides just be gay or do things gayly. (Gasp Spasm!)

Yes it does come up so I don't expect it to never be mentioned, but dear lord every three minutes is a bit much. There are about three television shows I can think of where these people (yes normal average people) actually act like they are normal average people. Pretty Little Liars, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, and Lost Girl. (I especially love Lost Girl for the fact that they don't label any of the sexuality stuff. It's just this dude has a husband and this chick has a girlfriend. Moving on.)

While other shows have gay characters they spend a bit too much time talking about being gay. Greek (which has great dialog and humor for the most part, but a shoddy plot) actually has a character that pretty much just complains about the fact that when you're gay all anyone talks about is your being gay. While I get your point, shut up already! You're not helping the cause!

Every single plot point for that character, of course, revolves around his being gay. The other more hetero characters have plot points about well stuff like failing classes, partying to much, or even the obligatory pissing off of the parents. Not the gay guy though he just gets to struggle with the ins and out of being gay. Like having a crush on your roommate or loving musicals and decorating, but not being able to admit it. (The true challenge of all gay men, apparently.)

Into that same show there is a plot point where a chick declares she's a lesbian and goes on the "obligatory" college lesbian fling, but then decides she was wrong. She's not gay. While I get annoyed with the way the gay guy was portrayed, the gay chick thing was far more obnoxious. The gay guy character was a gay guy. The gay chick character was a three episode story arch in which she was just going through a phase.

So, that would be my rant for this evening brought on by an abundance of free time due to illness and watching feminist documentaries in that free time.

Transportation

So in the past year that I've lived on my own, my transportation has evolved quite a lot.

One year ago, when I started out, I had a scooter. Most people upon hearing that say something along the lines of, "Oh cool. Is it just a little electric one?" No I had a foot powered scooter. I seriously just hopped on it and just ride down hill to school. It was pretty awesome and when I feel like I haven't put in enough effort getting from place to place I even still ride it.

After awhile my parents bought me a bicycle at a garage sale. It was a pretty decent bicycle. The problem was that I am short and it was built for a person who wasn't. I rode it a couple times before I decided being alive and uninjured was nice and continued on with the scooter.

When the second semester of college began my parents had boughten another bicycle off of some friends. This one was slightly too small, but with creative adjustments I had a fully functioning bicycle I could ride to go do things. I finally had timely transportation.

It was such a nice bike and hadthe added benefit if being pink so very few people weren't surprised when they learned it was mine. (I also have a pink phone which somehow happens to boggle everyone's mind.) This bike met a very sad demise though when I was coming home from work at 3:00am.

Some dill hole ran into the front tire with his car. I was crossing on the crosswalk. I wasn't even riding and I was doing so with the light, but this jackass decided that turning left was more important than my being alive and while he turned left plowed into my front tire obliterating my bike. The bastard didn't even slow down. Just kept going. And for added effect he was on the wrong side of the rode as well.

So for at least a month I had two bicycles sitting in my apartment neither of which was ridable for me. Then a couple weeks ago I got a brand new bicycle that is just my size and works wonderfully so I had three bicycles filling up my living room.

Since I first got the bicycle that was too big, I had been trying to sell it or even give it to someone. People would mention that they needed a bike and I'd say, "well, I have an extra one if you'd like it." Then they just shrug it off as if they realize that if someone gives them a bicycle they have no excuse to be out of shape.

That is until last night. I was taking the nonfunctioning bicycle down to the dumpster when a lady who had just moved in asked if I was getting rid of it and said she'd take it. This allowed me to offer her the one that was too big and she took it! Hallelujah!

It only took me ten months to get rid of the blasted thing. (It's like the worlds most unwanted bicycle.) I now have so much free space in my living room, I don't even know what to do with it.

No Plans

I, unlike most people, don't hate Mondays. This may be attributed more to the fact that Monday acts as a Saturday in terms of the rest of the world. This means that my standard plans usually consist of sleeping in until 4:00pm. (I know you're starting with the judging and I will have you know that I work until 2:00am, so bite me!) Then I nuke corndogs and pretend that watching The Middleman counts as being productive.

The past two Mondays have been quite different from my usually ones. In other words I actually went places. (Initiate gasp spasm here.)

(Insert exhale exhale exhale here.)

Last weekend (Monday for you people with normal schedules) consisted of a lot of insanity only made more absurd by a lack of sleep. The plan was for me to go to work and when I got home my younger sister and her boyfriend would be at my place where they were going to stay the night before we caught the first busses to Fort Collins to visit our older sister. This worked about as well as capturing a squirrel with a tin can while you're on crutches because you lost a leg.

My dad decided that since he was going up to Wyoming anyways he was just going to drive my sister and her boyfriend up to Fort Collins. My dad, being a master of passive aggression, decided that he was not going to pick me up on the way because "he didn't have room in the car." It was "not" because he has been pissed at me for the past three months about a blog post I wrote about the insanity of my sister's graduation in which he comes out as far less of a gentleman than he would have the world think of his "cowboy" ass. (I'd link you to it, but I took it down to end the email lectures argument I was having with my mother.) I was trying to think of a way in which his excuse may have actually been viable and for a little while was on the "well if he's driving the truck he wouldn't" page for about an hour and wasn't as pissed. Then I realized that even in the truck he'd have room and pissed off resumed. I don't care how pissed at a person I was, if they needed a ride somewhere I was already going so that they could hang out with their sisters before one moved to Texas, I'd give them a damn ride. Especially if I'm related to them. Maybe I'm a little preachy because I've never been in that situation, but if I did blow them off I could at least think up a solid excuse.

So my Friday (Sunday in normal world relation) was a shit day. It was in fact The Never Ending Day From Hell.

I worked all day as tech support (which is actually my job even though I sort of made it sound like it was a one time thing). It is normally not such a terrible thing, but when you are already having a shit day dealing with entitled assholes that think 28¢ a day entitles them to every movie ever made on a golden platter that is guarenteed to make the movie play perfectly without issue and that there is a magic fix all button because all they know about technology is what they've seen in 80's movies and Hackers (which is actually a fun movie despite it's inaccuracy), can make you want to pull a supervillain and destroy the world with that doomsday device I've totally been building because I'm a Bond villain.

Anyways, it was getting close to 2:00am and my day was finally almost over when I got a chat from a bored no life psych major who somehow thought that online tech support was the place to collect smart ass puns and use your psychological expertise. I was thus on a chat for an hour past when I was supposed to leave because Americans seriously need lives! So at 3:00 am I finally got to get off the computer and by 3:15am I begun my five mile trek home.

At 5:00am, after stopping for salty and surprisingly healthy snack food, I actually got home and had fifteen minutes to lay down and pretend I could actually stay in bed before I had to pack up my shit and catch the bus to downtown Denver. Where I then caught the bus to Longmont. I actually got about half an hour of sleep on this bus which worked quite nicely in getting rid of my urge to blow up the earth.

By the time I caught the bus to Fort Collins my reserve tank kicked in and I was somehow able to have a conversation with some vagabonds that had a kitty and not seem crazy. This was likely due more to the fact I was talking to vagabonds than that I actually seemed like a normal person. Then when I got to FoCo, I got to catch another, bus to meet my sister. Three hours from catching my first bus I was able to crash land on my sister's couch and not sleep because I get excited when I see people I like.

A steaming cup of coffee and an episode or two of Orange is The New Black later, my Dad arrived with the human cargo he's had a conversations longer than "Hey Dad! Happy Forth!" "Do you want to talk to your mother?" in the past three months. This led to an awkward lunch in which my dad said nothing to me before he quickly needed to leave and we shared a half hearted murmur filled obligatory hug.

After Pops left, we hung out which I don't really remember much about because my brain was sleeping even while I was fully awake. Then towards the end of the day we watched Jericho (which could not capture my sleep deprived brain's attention for shit), ate pasta and went to a carnival.

The carnival was just like any other one a person would go to. Obligatory mocking of the fully capable people that refuse to go on rides. Mocking the faces of people who do go on the rides. A ferris wheel. And of course eating vendor food which in this case was the Holy Grail of corndogs. (Maybe because I was sleep deprived and hungry, but my younger sister's boyfriend agreed so I think it was.) Then after I ate the corndog, my body started crashing so I took a bajillion photos to avoid falling asleep next to that spinny swing ride and being trampled by masses of carnival goers rushing to vomit.

I sleapt in the car back to my sister's place and managed to stay up for a couple more hours with both my sister's boyfriends and the pumpkin of my younger sister asleep on the couch. So, thirty-six hours from my waking up at 1:00pm on Sunday and running on a couple of small naps I finally passed out on my sister's sofa. 

So Sunday (Tuesday in relative terms), I woke up at what I claim as too early to fiddle music (not kidding) and me and my siblings with the younger one's boyfriend in tow went to get matching tattoos of the three stars from th Harry Potter books (something I didn't actually notice existed until my sisters mentioned getting tattoos of them). We then walked to get frozen yogurt while I debated Star Wars with the boyfriend. Then after buying henna in a pungently sweet Indian shop and purchasing Peace Tea we went back to my sister's and played Supernatural Risk (which is just  Risk, but no one dies just switches sides, so taking over the world is fucking difficult). Then after going to a nerd shop ("Hobby Shop" for the people too pompous to admit their nerdom), played D&D while drinking until 2:00am. Which as it turns out was plenty of time for me to be raped by a lizard woman until I was on the verge of death from aids. (Yeah D&D is weird with my friends.)

Then I woke up again too damn early and started the three hour bus ride with my younger sister and her boyfriend who stayed at my flat for the next two days and saw very little of me because I work nights.

So yeah that was last weekend. This weekend has been quite different despite being still on the quite crazy side.

Yesterday I got up early (and by early I mean 11:00am) to eat tomato free cheese pizza and discuss nerdy things with a friend from high school I hadn't seen in awhile on her way up Fort Collins. Then after she departed I went back into my apartment for a little while with the plans of watching The Middleman (seriously check this show out). This of course didn't work due to the fact that there was a black out in my area that left the windowless hallways of my building feeling like a level of Silent Hill. So I rode the bus downtown to check out the show my friend who is touring Colorado was playing in the basement of a coffee shop. I then hung out with this friend and his friend for the rest of the day whichever basically consisted of dark humor jokes involving dead hookers, while I navigated the drive in their man-stanky car to Westminster where me and the friend I went to go see play at the coffee shop cooked a pasta stir-fry (something we invented after I berated him for thinking canned ravioli counted was food) while his friend serenaded us on his guitar. We then drove back to downtown Denver where they played in a coffee shop bar combo where the audience fluctuated in its ability to give a crap. At this place my friend was told by J Megatron that his shit was dope but he needed to own it and recieved a free lecture on the magic of Tupac. We then went back to my place where my friend crashed and I hung out with his friend until 2:00am.

They woke up at 7:00am and I woke up with them, made them frozen waffles, then passed back out until 4:00pm. Then proceeded with my normal weekend plans of microwave food and watching The Middleman. (I do watch other shows this is just what I've been watching lately.) That's when I got a text that they forgot stuff. Stuff that I then noticed was laying in the middle of my floor and the two traveling musicians returned.

After a trip to the grocery store, in which I discovered men can't find things you send them to find, laughed a bit too hard at Naked! (yes the juice) related puns, and was told laughing in the produce section isn't allowed because produce is serious buisiness, we returned to my flat where my friend passed out on my sofa, I made fried cheese tortilla things (I'd say the actually name, but for some reason I can't remember how it's spelled), and my friend's friend did my dishes. I then chilled and watched The Middleman (is this reference number four?) for a couple hours before he went to bed. So yes as of right now I have two traveling musicians who haven't showered in a few days passed out on my sofa.

I do really enjoy having no plans because it leads to far more adventures and interesting things then having them. When you have a plan for the day you never get to experience the deliciousness of pasta stir-fry, the suffocating stench of being crammed in a man-stank filled car, or understand how serious the business of produce is.

The Sexy Scientist

Who doesn't love a good sexy scientist character? Even straight chicks can't deny the awesomeness of a well written sexy scientist type character. That being said, the sexy scientist has to actually, well, be a scientist not just boobs in a lab coat.

I spent last weekend as any self respecting nerdy film student would. That is working on a film set. I was production designer which was awesome because it was a science fiction shoot and I got to build some really awesome props and put together some awesome costumes. I seriously did more sewing and even some ironing than any person should do because seriously I was the only person that knew how. (The damn director didn't even know what was needed to work an iron.) It was a lot of work, but I enjoy making props and costumes a lot so I was fine with it.

The original script I liked a lot. It was a first draft so it probably needed a couple tweaks, but was over all pretty awesome! One of the main characters was a female scientist. Yes, she was the signature sexy scientist, but you could tell that she actually had the brain power to do science and I quite liked her character. So, starting out, I was pretty damn excited to work on the shoot. All the cool stuff I got to design and build as well as the cool characters made it a dream job.

Things only started to get iffy when the director decided to rewrite the script. It wasn't originally the director's script. A friend of ours wrote it and if it needed revisions, for all intensive purposes, it should have been the writer to make them, but the director opted to do it himself. The script suddenly ended up being twice as long (mostly because he pumped up the dialog), it made the assassin a guy who apparently doesn't know how to unfurl his eyebrows (this one at least worked), and stripped our friend the sexy scientist of a brain. Instead of the smart, but sexy scientist we all know and love, she has now become a woman who got the job apparently because she has boobs (which to be fair might know more about science than the actual scientist). The character felt a fair amount like a stripper doing a sexy doctor strip tease.

I must give kudos to the actress who played our doctor, however. Somehow when we started out filming and before the director gave her the instructions of "act slutty" she somehow managed to make the line "I left my makeup in the car. I wanted to touch up before the surprise party!" sound like it was coming from an intelligent woman and wasn't just written by some guy who apparently never talks to girls. That line physically made me cringe everytime I heard it. I had to fight the urge to either 1. Walk out the door and take all my props with me or 2. Confront the director and beg him to change that line to something someone might actually. Even the most stereotypical of woman don't say shit like that.

It was frustrating, very damn frustrating and I wasn't the only one who left that shoot more than a little annoyed. The guy who was the director really is a great guy, but there are two things he needs to do. 1. Learn how the hell time management works. (There was way to much waiting around for him.) And 2. Maybe just ask and actual woman how her brain functions. And possibly 3. Stop watching so much porn. (It's starting to show in your work, dude.)

Like I said I'm all for a sexy scientist, but can you please keep them as actual scientists. This director isn't the only one to do it. It's all over Hollywood movies. There's the sexy scientist that doesn't actually seem to know what science is, or in at least a couple cases, she knows, but is to preoccupied with love interests. (*cough* Suzanne Storm *cough*)

Come on filmmakers. Is it really too much to ask for a sexy scientist that actually knows and cares about her work. Sorry to burst your guy bubbles people, but we don't just get jobs with our boobs and there isn't a special branch of science where woman are chosen as scientists by the quality of said boobs under a lab coat.

An Amazingly Comfortable Shirt

I have a shirt that is so endlessly comfortable, it beats out the feeling of new socks ten fold. And no matter how many times I wear it, it still feels that comfortable. It clings to my body in just the right fashion using static cling to it's advantage. Then, throughout the day, the cloud like material stretches out perfectly. Upon washing it, the fabric contracts back to where it was when the day began. It is even so comfortable, I can't even feel itchy.

I kid you not, this shirt is like snuggling with a kitten on the inside of a new sock! It is just that comfortable. I don't even know what the hell it's made out of. (I could check, but that would involve taking off the shirt and I'm pretty sure the label is worn off anyways.) I just feel so cozy and relaxed like all is right with the world when I wear this shirt. Seriously if you want world peace, give everyone one of these shirts. (You have to try to want to blow something or someone up while wearing something this comfortable.) I'm pretty sure people aren't promised shirts this comfortable in heaven.

Just to demonstrate the power of this shirt, let me tell you a little story. This morning I woke up like an hour earlier than usual, so I had an extra hour to bum around before going to school. This of course ment that I spent the time reading Cracked.com. Somehow, I stumbled upon a website called Conservapedia. (I only suggest you click that link if you feel the need to induce forehead swelling via face palms.) Anyways, after browsing for a bit I  was feeling more than a little bit sad for the human race. I decided to get up and ready for school before I reached a point where I wanted to slap the dumb out of people so much I actually tried it. I then found this shirt on the top of the hamper and in no time I forgot all about the stupidity of people. Even one of my lead actors being an hour late didn't bother me. It's just hard to be pissed off when you're this comfortable.

While my shirt is so wonderfully comfortable, it really isn't a shirt for wearing in public. It started out as one of those long sleeved under shirts you wear to keep your arms warm and give you a schnazzy look when it decides to snow in May. (I'm talking to you Colorado!) It was never designed to be worn alone in public, but really just to make you feel wonderfully cozy underneath that T-shirt. Over time and due to lots of use, it lost the sleeves about half way down the arm giving it a bizarre cut off t-shirt look. So now when I wear it I just have these areas at the bottom of my sleaves where it's splayed out all funky. In other words I just look strange.

While before I put on the shirt I may contemplate how bizarre I will look, as soon as that shirt is on, I am so confortable, I don't care if I look like a homeless person. (Something my siblings accused me of for most of middle school. That is looking like a homeless person not actually being one.) I've always preferred comfort to looks, but this shirt just adds to the weirdness of my day to day appearance. (At least my hair no longer makes me look like a Muppet.)

The saddest thought, though, is that eventually this shirt will completely die. The already holey wonderous material, will eventually fall so far apart that I will be forced to do away with this shirt. I feel like a shirt this spectacular deserves it's own funeral. So if a few year down the road I invite you to it's funeral please just sit politely in the back giving me "what the hell" looks while I deliver the eulogy. (Also maybe call the nut house.)

Laughable

For years, my best friend has been laughing at my family when they argue. I've always found humor in my family's arguments, but I never got how absolutely hilarious they were until I got to listen to one objectively.

Normally, when my family argues, I'm right in the middle of it, so it's near impossible to laugh at until much later (usually when I write about it on my blog). But this weekend, when I visited them, I got to hear an argument I had no participation in. And damn it was funny!

Of all the absurd things they were arguing about bird seed. Not even about something like what type of bird seed to get or how much to use, but where to put it for feeding the birds. Apparently, she had put it in the wrong place. For a good twenty minutes at least my mom and sister were arguing like this.

My mom's argument:
The birds are used to it being on the picnic table. You should have put it where we normally put it.

My sister's argument: They're wild birds they'll find the food.

My mom's argument: You were just being too lazy to walk to the picnic table and back to the shed.

My sister's argument: That if you spread out the bird seed more birds could eat it without fighting with other birds.

Then the arguments just looped for twenty minutes. To be fair, my sister was probably just being lazy. (I spent all of high school and probably middle school doing the same things.) Also, i really doubt the birds give a crap where the free food is. (College students don't.)

While I have always found our family arguments ridiculous, I never realized how hilarious they were until I wasn't participating. I get it, Holly, my family truly is hilarious.