Archive for ‘deep thoughts’

January 13, 2013

some thoughts for the new year

by maria polonchek
  1. When someone’s been flamingoed, do they really need a sign that says, “You’ve been flamingoed!” ?

    thepinkflamingosite.com

    thepinkflamingosite.com

  2. Is spreading vegenaise on my ham-and-cheese sandwich what they mean when they say, “the road to hell is paved with good intentions”?
  3. The older my kids get, the more I like them. Babies are overrated.
  4. If your God is genuinely concerned with how many “likes” he has on Facebook, it may be time to explore other religions.
  5. For job-security purposes, it may not be in my therapist’s best interest to straighten me out.
  6. Is there an amendment in the constitution that protects my rights from other amendments?
  7. Is it possible to just give money directly to cancer research and admit that you enjoy shaving your facial hair into ridiculous styles for no reason?

    bitrebels.com

    bitrebels.com

  8. Are my aversions to the words “panties,” “membranes,” and “woman,” all connected to 6th grade health class?
  9. People who take pride in their jobs, no matter what the work, are so good to be around.
  10. Being a grown-up is actually pretty fun.

Feel free to leave your own in the comments…

November 28, 2012

the grocery bag thing (part deux)

by katie savage

Ooh ooh ooh. I have things to say about grocery bags! Yes, yes I do! Egypt? Libya? Fiscal cliff? The price of crude oil? Nope. Not a damn thing. If you mention those things, you can bet I will nod along whilst thinking about something IMPORTANT, like where Wills and Kate are and what she’s wearing whilst (my British word, apparently) being there. But grocery bags? Oh yes, you’d better believe I have something to say about that. I think we could do a whole month-long series in which we write solely about grocery bags. That would be fun, right, Audience?

I was going to try NOT starting out with the idea that one plane flight from Kansas City to California would be the Earth-wrecking equivalent of a lifetime supply of plastic grocery bags for an entire audience of One Direction fans, but then I got lazy and couldn’t think of anything else, so I guess we’re stuck with that.  Plane flights are on the brain anyhow, as I’ve got one coming up tomorrow, and I would certainly rather spend my Earth-wrecking points on a flight rather than a zillion plastic grocery bags.

Still, I’m with you when you say you wish there were no plastic option. It is one of the myriad reasons why I shop at Costco, where they don’t give a hot darn if you have to put each thing into your trunk ONE GIANT TUB OF HUMMUS AT A TIME. Their stuff typically doesn’t fit in those flimsy grocery bags anyway. The four pack of real butter laughs in the faces of those grocery bags.

Sometimes, if you get an extra generous cashier, and they notice how your two tiny children are on the edge of losing it and how your hair isn’t really combed and the clicker thingy on your car keys is broken, has been broken, and will probably remain broken until you finally give in and switch to a minivan with those awesome sliding doors so you don’t have to be stuck unlocking the doors manually LIKE A CHUMP, they might throw a box in the cart to hold all the hummus. But usually you’re on your own. This situation makes me happy because I don’t have to endure the guilt I always suffer at the grocery store for forgetting my bags. There are no bags, thus there is no guilt. My punishment fits the crime, and I’ll try to remember bags next time. (Side note: I never remember bags. I could count on one hand the number of times I have remembered bags, and not one of those times has been at Costco. Thus, while ingenious, your self-imposed punishment would not work as well for me.)

I must confess that I hate the cloth bags. I feel as though the cloth bags have become, for many people, an even more wasteful alternative to the plastic bags. And they feel like what evil would feel like, if, you know, you could touch evil. Here’s why: Like you, and many of our readers, I have a large stash of the cloth bags. Most of them have been given to me as freebies in stores or by friends. I MAY have purchased one or two at the beginning of the craze, or because they were cute. Some of these bags I have used only once or twice. And to be honest, I’ve got plastic Target bags that get WAY more play than that.

The cloth bags are on sale everywhere. Wherever anything is sold. And I will have to check with the Department of Materialism and Excess, but I think that flies in the face of their purpose, which was to REDUCE waste. Especially when our informal poll of readers has proved that most of us have a huge stash of those stupid bags and only the very best, most good-hearted, pure, and childless remember them on a regular basis.

Similarly, I was just listening to a story on NPR about how, since the Prius, fuel emissions have actually gone up. This is because Prius owners (not including you, of course, Mer) tend to drive more, as the consequences of driving (i.e. the price) are lower. The author of the book (sorry—I don’t know EITHER the name of the author nor the title of the book. I even Googled it. Yikes. That is some crappy journalism. Me rite blog.) said that, in reality, the most environmentally friendly vehicle would be an old beast that got five miles to the gallon, because the only thing that really motivates us not to drive is the cost of driving. He argued that one of the best years on record was at the beginning of the current recession: because people were broke and gas prices were high, we all found it within our hearts to be a little more nurturing to our beautiful home planet.

What I deduce from all this is that being broke or cheap or just actively resisting the urge to buy stuff is just as good a way to save the planet. Maybe better than buying all the stuff they market to environmentally minded consumers. So if they give you plastic bags, use them as trash can liners and feel vindicated because you are now SAVING an actual trash can liner. Bam! And I won’t even bring up what you should do with those tiny ketchups. #saveatomato

Now, I realize that this post is very stream of consciousness and not making a whole lot of sense to anyone who is reading oh look a squirrel. BUT, my point (I think) is that Wills and Kate have a way bigger carbon footprint than I do. So there, Royals. You should think about that.

May 4, 2012

that which shall not be named

by maria polonchek

I’m going to go there today. By the end of this post, I’m going to write out a word—which, unfortunately, entails having to think it about it, silently sound it out, and type the letters across this screen—a word that’s one of my “shudder words.” I hate hearing it, I hate saying it, I hate all the it stands for, implicitly and explicitly. But by the end of this post, I’m going to say it, write it, and OWN IT.

This word begins with “qu,” as in, “queen,” and rhymes with “leaf.” It’s another word for “vaginal flatulence.” Only one who has the great luck to possess a vagina is able to do it. It’s not a pleasant sounding word and the verb—the action being labeled—is not an attractive thing to do. The noun—the label one is assigned once she’s done it in yoga class—is not an attractive thing to be.

A fart in symbol form

It’s funny, right?
(credit: Wikipedia)

But, you know what? I’ve been thinking about this. Farting is funny, right? I can write about farting, joke about farting, laugh about farting. My friends think it’s funny. My husband thinks it’s funny. My 7-yr-olds think its funny. Even Sola—little, dainty, princess-girl—thinks it’s funny. Fart, fart, fart. Ha, ha, ha.

Do you know why I think farting is this big joke that we are comfortable with, relatively speaking? I’ll tell you why. Because, in 2012, we live in a patriarchal society, where a woman STILL EARNS 77 CENTS TO EVERY DOLLAR a man makes and because a woman has one little body part that is able to produce and distribute a funny little noise that MEN DON’T HAVE.

So we are ashamed and act like it’s not even a real thing. Obviously, this phenomenon had not become so relevant for me until I had three human beings emerge from my vagina which, apparently, can now suck in more air than a free-diver emerging off the coast of Oahu, and then I took up a physical group activity that has me twisting and bending in all kinds of crazy ways.

Fotografía hecha en Playa del Carmen, México, ...

Who has two thumbs, a vagina, and can suck in more air than THIS GUY? (credit: Wikipedia)

And now, Internets, from what I can tell, these are the rules of etiquette when it comes to qu***ing in yoga class (and I have been both the culprit and the witness.):

The Culprit:

  • Every time you move into a new position, clench all muscles from the lower abdominal to the upper thigh, even the ones you’ve only heard are there, but can’t actually confirm, as they are numb from being clinched all the time.
  • Move very, very s-l-o-w-l-y and hope that everyone will attribute your pace to the dancer-like grace with which you flow through each pose.
  • If you accidentally begin to relax for once in your life and a little (or a lot) of air escapes from your, ahem, lady parts, move more quickly now, to rustle up some other noise and wish, for the millionth time, that your yoga instructor would just play some music during class. It doesn’t even matter, at this point, if it’s Enya or Kenny G or whoever. JUST TURN ON SOME MUSIC!!!
  • As your face gets hot and turns very red and you try to cover as much of it as possible with your hair and wonder if you should apologize or joke or say something to your fellow yogis, decide not to and write about it on the Internet for complete strangers, instead.

The Witness:

  • Although you have just heard the funniest noise come out of the bottom end of a woman next to you who looks so perfect in her Lululemon pants and headband and supportive-yet-casual tank and you want to burst out laughing, you act like a zippy, airy, blubber-noise did not just interrupt an otherwise quiet, peaceful class and go home and write about it on the Internet for complete strangers, instead.

    Lululemon Athletica

    Lululemon Athletica: Wear our $120 pants and qu*** to your heart’s content. (credit: wikipedia.)

So, anyway. I queef sometimes in yoga. (I should have known. Spell-check doesn’t even recognize this as a word.) And it’s really funny. It’s embarrassing, but it’s also really funny. I don’t know whether to laugh, or apologize, or both. If it were a fart, it wouldn’t be worth a blog post. But it’s a queef, and there is something about the sound…the quickness and dryness of the air, I guess, that makes it so obvious it’s a queef, even for those people who try to claim it’s a fart, as if that is SO MUCH LESS embarrassing.

Petra's Yoga Poses around the world

You can never tell by looking, who will be a culprit. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

We queef, ladies. Say it above a whisper. QUEEF, QUEEF, QUEFF. Let’s say it and own it and hope that this is one more step towards the great equalizer: earning that golden 100 cents.

March 12, 2012

more tips for a quick sale

by maria polonchek

Like you described here, Katie, I’m one of those people who loves looking at homes for sale, even though I’m never actually buying one. I look online, I look for signs in the yard, I look at the photo ads in the newspaper that most people toss aside.

And if there is an open-house anywhere near me, I’m at it. Not just for the free mints and attractive realtors, either—I’m interested in design, architecture, and the way people live. I’ve even trained Luke and Taj in open-house etiquette. They take off their shoes at the door, say hello to other snoopers, and compliment the odd things they notice from their kid- perspective. (Last time we were in an apartment for sale in downtown San Francisco, Luke opened the door to the furnace and said enthusiastically, “This is a really nice heater, Mom!”)

After all this touring and, of course, help from HGTV, I’ve learned lots of tricks for staging open houses. We sold our house last year and are currently trying to find new renters to take over our lease in Palo Alto, so I’ve been hosting a few open-houses of my own lately. I pull out all the stops: I bake cookies right before the showing so the house smells yummy; I turn on all the lights so it’s as bright as possible; I leave glossy neighborhood brochures on the dining room table, next to the lit candles.

But these are the tips everyone knows by now, so I decided to come up with a fresh list of my own, of things that might not be so obvious.

6 New Tips for Home Staging

  1. Vaginal cream should not be on the coffee table, but in the bathroom, on a dark cabinet shelf that reaches far, far back.
  2. Your child’s money jar should also be tucked in a less conspicuous location. I don’t know who would actually steal money from a child, but you can’t take chances, as it comes in handy since your 6-yr-olds began constantly losing teeth and you aren’t in the habit of carrying cash. Also, the local Chinese-delivery-place doesn’t take checks.
  3. An empty bottle of high-quality red is OK left in the kitchen recycling bin, but the Costco-sized bottle of vodka is best placed in the outside receptacle.
  4. Try to conceal any evidence that children use the bathrooms. A seasoned pro might recognize the signs and detect that every fixture in the vicinity has been soaked repeatedly with urine to the point that no amount of bleach is effective at permanently eliminating the smell.
  5. No matter how much time you give yourself to clean, it won’t be enough. Once you have only a few moments to spare, throw anything that needs to be put away in a big laundry basket that you will place in your car trunk and drive around with for weeks because you’ve forgotten it’s there. This includes, but isn’t limited to: important papers and bills, small toys, mostly-empty packages of food, dirty coffee cups, dirty laundry, clean laundry, and your cell phone.
  6.  If you have small children, it may be effective to show up right before the showing is over, depending on their cute-to-annoying ratio. The better-looking the kids, the more likely they can charm potential buyers. If your kids aren’t cute, it’s best to stay away and take down family pictures. Nothing zaps the momentum of a sell like ugly kids.

Have fun and good luck!

-Maria

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