I know this is going to be an unpopular opinion, but I thought the Doctor Who Christmas special wherein the regeneration happened was terrible. There are spoilers below, so if you haven't seen it, you might want to stop now.
Okay, yet again, the Doctor and his companion are not together at the start of the episode. Why the fuck not? If she's the companion, why doesn't she actually travel with the Doctor? Why doesn't Moffatt want the companions to actually be anywhere near the Doctor?
They come together not because he needs her help or wants her around, but because she needs someone to play the part of her boyfriend at Christmas dinner. But the Doctor doesn't do Christmas - this is well established. And she needs him to leave a planet surrounded by every villain the Doctor has ever faced so he can pretend to be her boyfriend. And he goes. What the fuck?
The whole nudity thing was completely unnecessary time-filler.
So then there's this big thing about signal being heard through the entire universe and for some reason, the Doctor has befriended the head of a Cyberman which can translate the signal and identify the planet...that the TARDIS can't. What's wrong with the TARDIS that it can't identify the signal or the planet?
And then we meet another woman who has some rather forced sexual tension with the Doctor while Clara is exposed to the Silents. Why are the Silents there? Why are they not killing the people in the temple mainframe? But this temple mainframe thing can put the Doctor onto the surface of the sort-of-unidentified planet (or mis-identified planet), but he's not allowed to take technology with him and they see through his holographic clothing to see his TARDIS key, but they can't see through his wig? Which, again, completely unnecessary time-filler to have him be actually bald but wearing a wig.
So he gets his TARDIS back on the surface of the planet and finds the crack in the wall, because we haven't been saturated with enough throw-backs to rather dull things that happened in the last few years, and the signal coming through the crack is the question, "Doctor Who?" which the Time Lords are asking because they want to be able to identify that they have found the Doctor and can therefore return to this universe. Oh, and the Doctor also seems to have forgotten everything that happened in the 50th anniversary special episode, as he protests the possibility of the existence of Gallifrey and other Time Lords existing. But the Doctor is now in the position of either saying his name, which will allow Time Lords to return and the Time War to resume, or he can leave the planet, which means all of the baddies surrounding it will burn the planet and the seemingly dozen people who live there in the town called Christmas where you can't lie. So what does the Doctor do?
Nothing.
He does nothing. He takes no action. He sends Clara away via the Rose Tyler fake-out, and then proceeds to give up and grow old in this town called Christmas. Because apparently, if he just dies there of natural causes, the possibility of burning up the planet is taken away? And why don't the baddies, who hate the Doctor anyway (as evidenced by the fact that they keep trying to break into Christmas town to kill him) just burn the planet as some point anyway? His method of "protecting" the planet is disabling the tech that comes to kill him. (And seriously, who equips a wooden Cyberman with a flame thrower? Did nobody see that potential conflict of "technology?") He's not actually scaring the baddies away. If they all banded together to burn the planet in the 300 or so years the Doctor is doing nothing, the whole thing could be taken care of in a matter of seconds.
But then poor Clara has to return, and be sent away again, and return again, so she can tell the crack in the wall that he is, in fact the Doctor and that's all they need to know, so they send him some extra regeneration energy (which is, apparently also now a nuclear weapon of sorts), and he decimates the surface of the planet himself, thereby somehow magically saving everyone and taking his own sweet time regenerating into Peter Capaldi. Who did have a really fun line at the end.
So basically, we got sixty minutes of plot holes, forced sentimentally that ultimately failed, the Doctor doing nothing but talking about how he's lost hope and is going to die, and one funny line from Peter Capaldi.
Thank goodness for Peter Capaldi.
And can we get someone other than Stephen Moffatt to write the big, important episodes from here on out so they have, you know, something going on?
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Monday, December 30, 2013
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
November 19 - Nasty Habits
I was talking to someone over the weekend who said he was thoroughly disgusted by people who choose to chew gum. His argument was that it is akin to a cow chewing his cud.
Now, I will agree that it is perhaps odd to put something in your mouth that you chew and chew and chew but never swallow. It's a lump of mushy stuff that you infuse with your saliva and the bacteria that accumulate in your mouth and then you either stick it to the underside of a table to piss other people off or spit it out into a garbage receptacle where it will remain permanently adhered to the receptacle, never actually being disposed of. Gum chewing is not part of the digestive process, though, and is not semi-regurgitated matter mixed with stomach acid that has come up for a second go-around. And the kicker is, there are actually quite a few benefits to chewing gum. Particularly sugar-free gum. Particularly mint gum. Which happens to be what I chew when I chew gum.
The person who made this bold statement that chewing gum was gross also happens to be a smoker. Did I mention that? Yeah, he is. The person who inhales nicotine and tar that turn his teeth yellow and rot his lungs thought that chewing gum is more disgusting than smoking.
Now, I think we all know the dangers of smoking. And I think it is safe to say that most smokers don't give a rat's ass. In Europe, they put giant labels on cigarette packages with pictures of diseased lungs or that say, "Smoking Kills" and people keep smoking them anyway. For some, I'm sure it's turned into a "collect them all!" game with the warning labels. But from the very basest, very simplest, most mundane perspective, smoking makes you smell bad. We can tell you've been smoking because of the foul odor that accompanies you when you walk back inside. The stench that lingers in the air. And maybe that stench isn't the bit that is going to give me cancer, but I still have to smell it, the same as I have to smell my coworkers cooking their Lean Cuisine lunches in the kitchen. It is a distinctive, unpleasant smell that follows you everywhere, no matter how much perfume or cologne or body spray you try to use to cover it up. It just smells bad. You smell bad. And heaven forbid you try dating a smoker and feel the urge to kiss them...now you get to lick the tar and nicotine out of the inside of their mouth. Sounds like fun, yes?
I'll admit it - I've kissed smokers. And I'll also admit that regardless of technique, I'm tired of it. I'm tired of doing things like brushing my teeth, eating mints, chewing minty gum, or putting on lip balm to make the experience more pleasant for my kissing partner if he's just going to light up and taste like an ashtray to me.
I don't know that I've had much on my "dealbreakers" list before, if anything, but let's put this on there. No smokers. I'm done with it. I'm done with overlooking that "character flaw" when it comes to interviewing life partners (I'll overlook it for friends and casual acquaintances, but not for life partners). But I'll offer a deal to any smokers out there who were considering applying for the position - I'll give up chewing gum if you'll give up smoking. Deal?
Now, I will agree that it is perhaps odd to put something in your mouth that you chew and chew and chew but never swallow. It's a lump of mushy stuff that you infuse with your saliva and the bacteria that accumulate in your mouth and then you either stick it to the underside of a table to piss other people off or spit it out into a garbage receptacle where it will remain permanently adhered to the receptacle, never actually being disposed of. Gum chewing is not part of the digestive process, though, and is not semi-regurgitated matter mixed with stomach acid that has come up for a second go-around. And the kicker is, there are actually quite a few benefits to chewing gum. Particularly sugar-free gum. Particularly mint gum. Which happens to be what I chew when I chew gum.
The person who made this bold statement that chewing gum was gross also happens to be a smoker. Did I mention that? Yeah, he is. The person who inhales nicotine and tar that turn his teeth yellow and rot his lungs thought that chewing gum is more disgusting than smoking.
Now, I think we all know the dangers of smoking. And I think it is safe to say that most smokers don't give a rat's ass. In Europe, they put giant labels on cigarette packages with pictures of diseased lungs or that say, "Smoking Kills" and people keep smoking them anyway. For some, I'm sure it's turned into a "collect them all!" game with the warning labels. But from the very basest, very simplest, most mundane perspective, smoking makes you smell bad. We can tell you've been smoking because of the foul odor that accompanies you when you walk back inside. The stench that lingers in the air. And maybe that stench isn't the bit that is going to give me cancer, but I still have to smell it, the same as I have to smell my coworkers cooking their Lean Cuisine lunches in the kitchen. It is a distinctive, unpleasant smell that follows you everywhere, no matter how much perfume or cologne or body spray you try to use to cover it up. It just smells bad. You smell bad. And heaven forbid you try dating a smoker and feel the urge to kiss them...now you get to lick the tar and nicotine out of the inside of their mouth. Sounds like fun, yes?
I'll admit it - I've kissed smokers. And I'll also admit that regardless of technique, I'm tired of it. I'm tired of doing things like brushing my teeth, eating mints, chewing minty gum, or putting on lip balm to make the experience more pleasant for my kissing partner if he's just going to light up and taste like an ashtray to me.
I don't know that I've had much on my "dealbreakers" list before, if anything, but let's put this on there. No smokers. I'm done with it. I'm done with overlooking that "character flaw" when it comes to interviewing life partners (I'll overlook it for friends and casual acquaintances, but not for life partners). But I'll offer a deal to any smokers out there who were considering applying for the position - I'll give up chewing gum if you'll give up smoking. Deal?
Thursday, November 14, 2013
November 14 - Ugh
In typical Kitty fashion, I seem to be getting sick just in time for opening night. I know why it happens, and I know why it happens with such alarming regularity. I just wish I could figure out a way to make it stop happening.
See, by the time we get to tech week, my schedule has gone kablooie and I always end up spending a week not really sleeping. Wake up, go to work, run home, (hopefully) eat dinner before going to the theatre, rehearse until 10 or 11pm (or later), go home, try to sleep, wake up, go to work... I say "try to sleep," because I am often unsuccessful. I'm usually kind of buzzed after a performance, and as one who has problems falling asleep anyway, it makes it that much harder to quiet my brain down enough to get some sleep before I have to get up and do it all again. So by opening night, after a week of not sleeping well and sometimes not eating well, my body says, "Fuck this," and fills itself up with spare phlegm in an attempt to force me to slow down and take care of myself for a day. My skin usually likes to join in the rebellion, too, and starts sprouting volcanoes on my chin. Good fun.
And it is for this reason that I did just about every show I did in college on DayQuil. My dear friend DayQuil, helping me through theatrical performances since 1998. I'd like to avoid taking something before the show tomorrow, but I think the only way to do that may be to take a sick day.
We'll see how I feel in the morning.
See, by the time we get to tech week, my schedule has gone kablooie and I always end up spending a week not really sleeping. Wake up, go to work, run home, (hopefully) eat dinner before going to the theatre, rehearse until 10 or 11pm (or later), go home, try to sleep, wake up, go to work... I say "try to sleep," because I am often unsuccessful. I'm usually kind of buzzed after a performance, and as one who has problems falling asleep anyway, it makes it that much harder to quiet my brain down enough to get some sleep before I have to get up and do it all again. So by opening night, after a week of not sleeping well and sometimes not eating well, my body says, "Fuck this," and fills itself up with spare phlegm in an attempt to force me to slow down and take care of myself for a day. My skin usually likes to join in the rebellion, too, and starts sprouting volcanoes on my chin. Good fun.
And it is for this reason that I did just about every show I did in college on DayQuil. My dear friend DayQuil, helping me through theatrical performances since 1998. I'd like to avoid taking something before the show tomorrow, but I think the only way to do that may be to take a sick day.
We'll see how I feel in the morning.
Sunday, May 05, 2013
May 5 - Non-Issue
I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish physical appearance was a non-issue. Specifically mine.
I would like to think that in my life and my interactions with other people, a lot of the things that were once, I dunno, taboo? are now non-issues. I don't really care what your sexual orientation is or your religion or your skin color or your gender, if you are a kind person, we're going to get along just fine. I don't spend a lot of time thinking about my friend's sexual orientations because frankly, it doesn't matter to me who they choose to sleep with and who they want to spend their lives with. I don't care who my friends pray to, or if they choose not to pray at all. And I don't mean that to sound crass or dismissive or uncaring - I know that for a lot of people, these things are integral parts of their identities and these things are important to them. What is important to me in human interaction is communication and respect and kindness. If those things are taken care of, the rest of it is just the sprinkles on top of the sundae.
But somehow, I still find myself totally hung up on my own physical appearance. I realize that this blog is probably coming off very vain and self-centered, but apparently, I have some issues to work out at the moment. I'm sorry about that. But at the same time, maybe somebody else is having issues, too, and my talking about it might be useful to them.
I'm tired of having to think about what I look like, and what my clothes say about me, and how I'm being judged as I walk down the street for...whatever. For my pants being too lose or too tight. For my tattoo showing or not. For my preference for dark colors. I'm tired of it. I'm so freaking tired of it.
Side note for all the geeks out there: I tried to type "freaking" just now, but what showed up on the screen was "fraking," which I almost kept.
I tried to buy clothing today. I went to a bunch of stores I never go to and I went to one store I always go to and by the time everything was said and done, I walked out with pieces I think might work but I'm not really crazy about and an overwhelming need to go have a cry. Wait, let me back up a minute.
I read this blog post last week and fell in love with the author just a little bit. I think it is partially because I read that post that when I had to shoot myself in a video for work, I didn't cringe at the footage and pick it apart in my head, saying I should have worn different jeans or styled my hair differently or anything. I actually looked at that footage and thought to myself, "Hey, I'm actually pretty cute." It was a strange moment for me, but one that I felt meant I was making progress. And today, in rehearsal, I was standing on a platform on the stage and the guy understudying the lead was standing on the floor and he came over and picked me up in a fireman's carry. And I let him. I didn't grunt or groan or struggle or shriek, I let him pick me up over his shoulder and set me down elsewhere. He didn't break a bone or pull a muscle or anything. He just picked me up and set me down. So I was feeling good about myself. Comfortable. Somewhere along the way, I also decided that I don't like using the word "fat" to describe myself because I am not fat. I am not a size two, but I am also not morbidly obese. So I want to stop using the word fat to describe myself, even if it's in the context of a comment that never leaves my own head.
But then I went shopping. I needed a bathing suit, and something fancy and white. Honestly, trying to find a white outfit was more depressing than finding a bathing suit. I went to five or six stores, stores aimed at teens and twenty-somethings, stores aimed at the whole family, stores aimed at 30+. And in every single store, I had to grab just about the largest size on the rack. In some cases, those sizes were still too small. The pieces that did fit were not designed with a curvy girl in mind - the hem landed in the least flattering spot, or the waistband bulged in the back, or whatever. These clothes were designed for women with a very specific set of measurements - measurements I'm pretty sure most women don't have. Hell, even some of the sales people would obviously not fit into the clothes they were selling. One woman greeted me and it occurred to me after the fact that if I was buying the extra large bathing suit bottom, she wouldn't even be able to shop in the store where she worked. This poor girl probably never gets to take advantage of her employee store discount because none of the clothes they carry allow women to be any larger than a size 8 or 10. How fucked up is that? Seriously.
Now, I'm not advocating obesity. I'm not saying people with potentially life threatening medical conditions shouldn't seek help. But it has also been shown that overweight does not always mean unhealthy. Often times, yes, it does. But not always. And even for the overweight people who are unhealthy - they have to be able to wear clothes, too, right? Wouldn't it be nice if they could wear clothes that were comfortable and flattering?
The kicker for me in all of this is that I am not fat. I am not unhealthy. I am not a size four. And I can barely find an outfit in an entire mall full of women's clothing stores that is comfortable and flattering.
I know the fashion industry is a multi-billion dollar industry that provides jobs for thousands of people and a creative artistic outlet for a select few. But I wish it was a non-issue. I wish physical appearance was a non-issue. It shouldn't matter if I'm wearing this season's jeans or last season's jeans, and to many people it doesn't, but there are still enough people out there to whom it does matter that one afternoon spent in a mall can completely destroy the self-esteem of a woman like me. A member of Mensa. A musician. A brilliant actress. A kind and loving friend, sister, and daughter. And I can't be the only one who feels this frustration. I can't be. Which would seem to indicate that the issue is not that there is something wrong with me or the way I look or how I am built, but that there is something wrong with the clothing designers and the general belief that women shouldn't have breasts and hips because they are too hard to design around. Fuck that. Breasts and hips are amazing. My badonkadonk ass is glorious and deserves a pair of trousers that do it justice.
Or, the simpler answer, is to make physical appearance a non-issue. I don't care what you look like, or what you're wearing, or whether you have "gym hair" today or what. Let's just agree that we're both human beings and see where the conversation goes from there, shall we?
Please?
I would like to think that in my life and my interactions with other people, a lot of the things that were once, I dunno, taboo? are now non-issues. I don't really care what your sexual orientation is or your religion or your skin color or your gender, if you are a kind person, we're going to get along just fine. I don't spend a lot of time thinking about my friend's sexual orientations because frankly, it doesn't matter to me who they choose to sleep with and who they want to spend their lives with. I don't care who my friends pray to, or if they choose not to pray at all. And I don't mean that to sound crass or dismissive or uncaring - I know that for a lot of people, these things are integral parts of their identities and these things are important to them. What is important to me in human interaction is communication and respect and kindness. If those things are taken care of, the rest of it is just the sprinkles on top of the sundae.
But somehow, I still find myself totally hung up on my own physical appearance. I realize that this blog is probably coming off very vain and self-centered, but apparently, I have some issues to work out at the moment. I'm sorry about that. But at the same time, maybe somebody else is having issues, too, and my talking about it might be useful to them.
I'm tired of having to think about what I look like, and what my clothes say about me, and how I'm being judged as I walk down the street for...whatever. For my pants being too lose or too tight. For my tattoo showing or not. For my preference for dark colors. I'm tired of it. I'm so freaking tired of it.
Side note for all the geeks out there: I tried to type "freaking" just now, but what showed up on the screen was "fraking," which I almost kept.
I tried to buy clothing today. I went to a bunch of stores I never go to and I went to one store I always go to and by the time everything was said and done, I walked out with pieces I think might work but I'm not really crazy about and an overwhelming need to go have a cry. Wait, let me back up a minute.
I read this blog post last week and fell in love with the author just a little bit. I think it is partially because I read that post that when I had to shoot myself in a video for work, I didn't cringe at the footage and pick it apart in my head, saying I should have worn different jeans or styled my hair differently or anything. I actually looked at that footage and thought to myself, "Hey, I'm actually pretty cute." It was a strange moment for me, but one that I felt meant I was making progress. And today, in rehearsal, I was standing on a platform on the stage and the guy understudying the lead was standing on the floor and he came over and picked me up in a fireman's carry. And I let him. I didn't grunt or groan or struggle or shriek, I let him pick me up over his shoulder and set me down elsewhere. He didn't break a bone or pull a muscle or anything. He just picked me up and set me down. So I was feeling good about myself. Comfortable. Somewhere along the way, I also decided that I don't like using the word "fat" to describe myself because I am not fat. I am not a size two, but I am also not morbidly obese. So I want to stop using the word fat to describe myself, even if it's in the context of a comment that never leaves my own head.
But then I went shopping. I needed a bathing suit, and something fancy and white. Honestly, trying to find a white outfit was more depressing than finding a bathing suit. I went to five or six stores, stores aimed at teens and twenty-somethings, stores aimed at the whole family, stores aimed at 30+. And in every single store, I had to grab just about the largest size on the rack. In some cases, those sizes were still too small. The pieces that did fit were not designed with a curvy girl in mind - the hem landed in the least flattering spot, or the waistband bulged in the back, or whatever. These clothes were designed for women with a very specific set of measurements - measurements I'm pretty sure most women don't have. Hell, even some of the sales people would obviously not fit into the clothes they were selling. One woman greeted me and it occurred to me after the fact that if I was buying the extra large bathing suit bottom, she wouldn't even be able to shop in the store where she worked. This poor girl probably never gets to take advantage of her employee store discount because none of the clothes they carry allow women to be any larger than a size 8 or 10. How fucked up is that? Seriously.
Now, I'm not advocating obesity. I'm not saying people with potentially life threatening medical conditions shouldn't seek help. But it has also been shown that overweight does not always mean unhealthy. Often times, yes, it does. But not always. And even for the overweight people who are unhealthy - they have to be able to wear clothes, too, right? Wouldn't it be nice if they could wear clothes that were comfortable and flattering?
The kicker for me in all of this is that I am not fat. I am not unhealthy. I am not a size four. And I can barely find an outfit in an entire mall full of women's clothing stores that is comfortable and flattering.
I know the fashion industry is a multi-billion dollar industry that provides jobs for thousands of people and a creative artistic outlet for a select few. But I wish it was a non-issue. I wish physical appearance was a non-issue. It shouldn't matter if I'm wearing this season's jeans or last season's jeans, and to many people it doesn't, but there are still enough people out there to whom it does matter that one afternoon spent in a mall can completely destroy the self-esteem of a woman like me. A member of Mensa. A musician. A brilliant actress. A kind and loving friend, sister, and daughter. And I can't be the only one who feels this frustration. I can't be. Which would seem to indicate that the issue is not that there is something wrong with me or the way I look or how I am built, but that there is something wrong with the clothing designers and the general belief that women shouldn't have breasts and hips because they are too hard to design around. Fuck that. Breasts and hips are amazing. My badonkadonk ass is glorious and deserves a pair of trousers that do it justice.
Or, the simpler answer, is to make physical appearance a non-issue. I don't care what you look like, or what you're wearing, or whether you have "gym hair" today or what. Let's just agree that we're both human beings and see where the conversation goes from there, shall we?
Please?
Wednesday, May 01, 2013
May 1 - Question
Why do we, as a culture, insist on eating grains with forks? Rice, quinoa, couscous, even small pastas like orzo, we insist on eating them with a fork. The least small-item-friendly utensil in the general American utensil set. Granted, there are other cultures that like to eat these things with chopsticks, which are even less small-item-friendly, and I myself enjoy using chopsticks whenever I can (especially my light saber chopsticks that I got at Comic Con), but really, this makes no sense. We are so addicted to eating things with forks in the United States that often times, spoons are not even included with the set of silverware laid out at the restaurant table. If your server deems your order worthy of a spoon (i.e. soup), then he or she will bring one when he or she brings the food. Otherwise, no spoon for you! You must eat these tiny grains of rice by stabbing them with the tine of a fork!
I recently decided that I was going to eat small grains with a spoon instead of a fork. It makes me feel like I am three years old, but it is a lot less messy and much more efficient. I don't have to stick my face in the bowl and scoop the remaining grains in like one of those arcade machines where you try to get the arm to push quarters over the edge. I can eat my food like a grown-up. Who uses a spoon to eat small grains.
And suddenly, there is ukulele music in the background which has completely distracted me from my forks vs. spoons rant. Now I feel tropical.
Yay nice weather! Happy May, everybody! And hooray for eating small food items with a spoon!
I recently decided that I was going to eat small grains with a spoon instead of a fork. It makes me feel like I am three years old, but it is a lot less messy and much more efficient. I don't have to stick my face in the bowl and scoop the remaining grains in like one of those arcade machines where you try to get the arm to push quarters over the edge. I can eat my food like a grown-up. Who uses a spoon to eat small grains.
And suddenly, there is ukulele music in the background which has completely distracted me from my forks vs. spoons rant. Now I feel tropical.
Yay nice weather! Happy May, everybody! And hooray for eating small food items with a spoon!
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
March 27 - I Just...
I have an email address that, apparently, many many many many many many many many many many many people wish they had. Sorry, kids, it's mine. I got there first. And because of the way that this particular email service works, even if you put a period or a dash or something between the words in the email address, the email still comes to me. Which means I get a lot of emails that are not intended for me.
I know, I know, you're thinking, "Those are called SPAM messages, and it's okay to delete them." I'm not talking about spam. I'm talking about people's order confirmations from All Things Edible that include home addresses, full names, itemized lists of what was ordered and what it cost, and telephone numbers. I'm talking about emails that say, "Hi, Parent. Your child has signed up to play Innocuous Learning Game Number 6 and needs your approval to set up an account." I'm talking about emails that say, "Your phone number 919-xxx-xxxx {phone number removed by me for privacy purposes} is almost at it's data limit for this billing cycle and will be charged $1.69 for every extra kilobyte of data." These are not spam messages. These are messages meant for someone who input the wrong email address when signing up for a service of some sort.
Now, recently, I switched cell phone providers because there is a certain cell phone company that I despise that I wanted to get away from. Everything was fine, I'm okay with my new provider, but then I started getting emails from my old provider in regard to an account that was not mine. I got a full name, a full address, and a couple of phone numbers - apparently, it's a family plan. I marked these emails as spam so I wouldn't have to receive them anymore. Nope. They still arrive in my inbox every month. So I tried texting the phone number associated with the account to ask them to update their email address on the account and remove mine in the process. Didn't hear anything. Got another email. Then another. Then another. I even tried calling the phone number in the email to ask them politely on the phone to update their preferences. They sent me to a voice mail box that hasn't been set up yet.
I'm at the point where I don't know what else to do. I'm trying to help this person protect their own personal information by making sure the right contact information is in their account, in addition to trying to stop being contacted by a cell phone company I hate for something that has nothing to do with me. If I was a less honest person, I could very easily get into their account and gain access to their personal, identifying, or financial information. I'm not that person. I don't want another person's identity. I don't want to screw with someone's life like that. But I would really really really like these emails to stop.
So I'm starting a spam text campaign against the offending phone number. Random facts sent with the intent of getting this person to change their email address. Things like, "All 10 million bricks in the Empire State Building would love it if you took my email address off of your phone account," and "It is physically impossible to lick your own elbow, but it is very easy to stop these texts - remove my email address from your cell phone account." Informative, and hopefully just annoying enough to get this person to wise up and use their own email address instead of mine. Because seriously, why haven't they updated their account yet?
If you have any suggestions for texts I can send to this person (I would prefer to avoid profanity and threats of violence), please share them in the comments. Thanks!
I know, I know, you're thinking, "Those are called SPAM messages, and it's okay to delete them." I'm not talking about spam. I'm talking about people's order confirmations from All Things Edible that include home addresses, full names, itemized lists of what was ordered and what it cost, and telephone numbers. I'm talking about emails that say, "Hi, Parent. Your child has signed up to play Innocuous Learning Game Number 6 and needs your approval to set up an account." I'm talking about emails that say, "Your phone number 919-xxx-xxxx {phone number removed by me for privacy purposes} is almost at it's data limit for this billing cycle and will be charged $1.69 for every extra kilobyte of data." These are not spam messages. These are messages meant for someone who input the wrong email address when signing up for a service of some sort.
Now, recently, I switched cell phone providers because there is a certain cell phone company that I despise that I wanted to get away from. Everything was fine, I'm okay with my new provider, but then I started getting emails from my old provider in regard to an account that was not mine. I got a full name, a full address, and a couple of phone numbers - apparently, it's a family plan. I marked these emails as spam so I wouldn't have to receive them anymore. Nope. They still arrive in my inbox every month. So I tried texting the phone number associated with the account to ask them to update their email address on the account and remove mine in the process. Didn't hear anything. Got another email. Then another. Then another. I even tried calling the phone number in the email to ask them politely on the phone to update their preferences. They sent me to a voice mail box that hasn't been set up yet.
I'm at the point where I don't know what else to do. I'm trying to help this person protect their own personal information by making sure the right contact information is in their account, in addition to trying to stop being contacted by a cell phone company I hate for something that has nothing to do with me. If I was a less honest person, I could very easily get into their account and gain access to their personal, identifying, or financial information. I'm not that person. I don't want another person's identity. I don't want to screw with someone's life like that. But I would really really really like these emails to stop.
So I'm starting a spam text campaign against the offending phone number. Random facts sent with the intent of getting this person to change their email address. Things like, "All 10 million bricks in the Empire State Building would love it if you took my email address off of your phone account," and "It is physically impossible to lick your own elbow, but it is very easy to stop these texts - remove my email address from your cell phone account." Informative, and hopefully just annoying enough to get this person to wise up and use their own email address instead of mine. Because seriously, why haven't they updated their account yet?
If you have any suggestions for texts I can send to this person (I would prefer to avoid profanity and threats of violence), please share them in the comments. Thanks!
Sunday, March 17, 2013
March 17 - St. Patrick's Day
I am proud to be Irish. I love being Irish. And as such, I refuse to don seventeen shades of green clothing on the Saturday night before St. Patrick's Day and drink myself into a stupor. There is so much more to being Irish than loving green and drinking whiskey and beer. Yes, I like those things, but there is more to being Irish than that and to be honest, it bothers me that this is the bit of Irish culture that is most universally celebrated in the United States.
Today, since it is officially St. Patrick's Day and I am officially Irish, I am going to eat a shepherd's pie, allow myself to drink a non-vegan Guinness (because I am more Irish than I am vegan and gosh darn it I miss Guinness), and listen to some Irish music. Spend time with friends. I had a brilliant morning with my mother (also Irish). That's what being Irish is about to me - friends, family, art, and good food.
Slainte!
Sorry for the crap post - I have too many ideas in my head to be coherent right now and I watched 50/50 today which is absolutely brilliant. I'll be better tomorrow. Promise.
Today, since it is officially St. Patrick's Day and I am officially Irish, I am going to eat a shepherd's pie, allow myself to drink a non-vegan Guinness (because I am more Irish than I am vegan and gosh darn it I miss Guinness), and listen to some Irish music. Spend time with friends. I had a brilliant morning with my mother (also Irish). That's what being Irish is about to me - friends, family, art, and good food.
Slainte!
Sorry for the crap post - I have too many ideas in my head to be coherent right now and I watched 50/50 today which is absolutely brilliant. I'll be better tomorrow. Promise.
Monday, March 04, 2013
March 4 - A Little Bit of a Rant
I went to the movies last night with a couple of friends, and I had decided long before I even got to the theater that I was going to buy some candy to eat during the film. Going to the movies is still sort of an indulgent experience for me. You spend more money than you want to spend to get lost in some fantasy world for a couple of hours, and you might as well have a snack while you're doing it, right? At the very least, a beverage so you can stay hydrated while watching the movie (despite the fact that almost all available beverages at the movie theater are known to dehydrate people, but whatever. You know what I mean).
So my friends and I had a beverage or two in the bar before going into the theater, and I stopped at the concession stand on the way in, looking for Dots - those little gumdrop thingies - because in all honesty, I miss gummy candies. I don't eat gelatin, and most gummy stuff contains gelatin, so I miss it because I used to love the squishy sort of texture. Dots do not contain gelatin, so they are my go-to for when I want something chewy. So I went to the concession stand and looked at the boxed candy and almost didn't see the Dots because they came only in a 2.25oz box. Something smaller than a box of cigarettes. I was looking for the 16-20oz box they usually have a the movie theater. The box big enough to share with your friends. The box big enough to put you into a sugar coma and make you feel ill. The box big enough to make sure every single tooth in your mouth gets covered in gummy goodness that you have to use your tongue to peel off throughout the film and halfway home afterward. I almost missed the 2.25oz single-serving box - the box smaller in size than what you find at your local drug or variety store - hidden between the Twizzlers and the chocolate covered peanuts. But I found it, and bought it - two dollars.
Now, I realize that in general, candy sizes have gotten smaller to save movie theaters money and to discourage people from overeating. Like that whole outlawing of super sized soft drinks thing in New York City - people figure if only smaller portions are available, people will consume less. This may be a valid point - since I only had one serving of Dots to eat, I only ate one serving, as opposed to the two or three I would likely have eaten if the larger box had been available.
But at the same time, I was incensed that my movie candy was now only available in mini. What if I want to indulge at the theater? What if I want to gorge myself on sugar and get really hyper? What if, god forbid, I wanted to share with my friends? This tiny candy portion discourages sharing, unless you and your group are each okay with eating two Dots. Who wants to eat just two Dots? Yes, I know I could have purchased more than one box, but that then falls into the shame spiral - an effective method to keep people from overeating. And at a movie theater that still offers a 32oz soft drink and a vat of popcorn the size of a six-year-old's head, it seems a little odd to shrink the size of the candy boxes so drastically. If we're trying to prevent people from consuming so much sugar, shouldn't a 12oz or even a 20oz soda be the limit? It's like drinking a diet soda while eating ten glazed donuts - why cut back on one but not the other?
I realize that this totally falls under the heading of First World Problems. There are millions out there who don't have enough to eat in the first place, so the thought of getting a candy treat now and again is completely foreign and something they maybe dream of. Complaining that there isn't enough candy to eat themselves into a diabetic coma is the last thing on their minds. I know I have no right to complain. It just struck me as odd and cheap and a really strange marker of these changing times in which we live.
Now, if movie theaters wanted to start serving hummus and veggies in an effort to make things healthier, I'd be all over that. Until then, allow me my sugar coma. Please?
So my friends and I had a beverage or two in the bar before going into the theater, and I stopped at the concession stand on the way in, looking for Dots - those little gumdrop thingies - because in all honesty, I miss gummy candies. I don't eat gelatin, and most gummy stuff contains gelatin, so I miss it because I used to love the squishy sort of texture. Dots do not contain gelatin, so they are my go-to for when I want something chewy. So I went to the concession stand and looked at the boxed candy and almost didn't see the Dots because they came only in a 2.25oz box. Something smaller than a box of cigarettes. I was looking for the 16-20oz box they usually have a the movie theater. The box big enough to share with your friends. The box big enough to put you into a sugar coma and make you feel ill. The box big enough to make sure every single tooth in your mouth gets covered in gummy goodness that you have to use your tongue to peel off throughout the film and halfway home afterward. I almost missed the 2.25oz single-serving box - the box smaller in size than what you find at your local drug or variety store - hidden between the Twizzlers and the chocolate covered peanuts. But I found it, and bought it - two dollars.
Now, I realize that in general, candy sizes have gotten smaller to save movie theaters money and to discourage people from overeating. Like that whole outlawing of super sized soft drinks thing in New York City - people figure if only smaller portions are available, people will consume less. This may be a valid point - since I only had one serving of Dots to eat, I only ate one serving, as opposed to the two or three I would likely have eaten if the larger box had been available.
But at the same time, I was incensed that my movie candy was now only available in mini. What if I want to indulge at the theater? What if I want to gorge myself on sugar and get really hyper? What if, god forbid, I wanted to share with my friends? This tiny candy portion discourages sharing, unless you and your group are each okay with eating two Dots. Who wants to eat just two Dots? Yes, I know I could have purchased more than one box, but that then falls into the shame spiral - an effective method to keep people from overeating. And at a movie theater that still offers a 32oz soft drink and a vat of popcorn the size of a six-year-old's head, it seems a little odd to shrink the size of the candy boxes so drastically. If we're trying to prevent people from consuming so much sugar, shouldn't a 12oz or even a 20oz soda be the limit? It's like drinking a diet soda while eating ten glazed donuts - why cut back on one but not the other?
I realize that this totally falls under the heading of First World Problems. There are millions out there who don't have enough to eat in the first place, so the thought of getting a candy treat now and again is completely foreign and something they maybe dream of. Complaining that there isn't enough candy to eat themselves into a diabetic coma is the last thing on their minds. I know I have no right to complain. It just struck me as odd and cheap and a really strange marker of these changing times in which we live.
Now, if movie theaters wanted to start serving hummus and veggies in an effort to make things healthier, I'd be all over that. Until then, allow me my sugar coma. Please?
Friday, March 01, 2013
March 1 - Human Sexuality
First of all, if you've not seen this video, please take the three minutes and forty-nine seconds to watch it because it is so beautiful. If you didn't already love Hank Green, or if you don't understand why I love Hank Green, this is it. Right here. I've seen the video probably half a dozen times and it still chokes me up. So please, go watch it and then come back to read the rest of this post. I'll still be here.
Watched it? Yes? Good?
Okay. So that's the starting point for this discussion, and I just want to say really quickly that the beauty of two shiny boxes exploding into millions of shiny boxes is what gets me every time. So much beauty and so much love. It reduces me to the point of not being able to use words. I love that image of millions of shiny boxes, each one as beautiful as the last, in all of the colors of the rainbow. I like thinking about human sexuality that way.
I realize that not everybody looks at human sexuality that way, though, and it makes me sad. Because for me, it kind of goes like this.
Let's say your entire life, you've been attracted to redheads. Who isn't attracted to redheads, right? They're gorgeous and graceful and every time you fantasize about who you want your ideal life mate to be, that person always has red hair. And then one day, you meet this brunette who just knocks you on your ass. This brunette is kind and thoughtful and intelligent and likes the same leisure activities you do and the two of you communicate well and have similar life goals and spiritual beliefs and you just can't imagine your life without this person. Suddenly, the fantasy of the redhead seems so much less important than the idea of spending your life with this specific brunette, yes? I think most people can wrap their brains around that - the idea that you fall in love with the person, not necessarily the package they come in. So let's extrapolate that same idea out further and say it's not just the person's hair color that isn't what you expected yourself to love, but their eye color is different than you imagined. Or their body shape. Or their skin color. Or their genitalia. Are you not still falling in love with the person instead of the package they come in? At what point is it okay to draw the line and say that's not acceptable? At what point is it okay to say, "No, you and this other consenting adult are not allowed to enter into a relationship because of x?"
(I point out "consenting adults" because I think it is important for me to clarify that I think pedophilia is the point at which lines must be drawn. Kids who are too young to understand what is going on should not be subjected to the sexual desires of others. For that matter, adults who are old enough to understand what's going on should not be subjected to the sexual desires of others with whom they don't agree, though one would hope the adults have the tools to be able to say "no" to such situations whereas children may not know how to stand up for themselves.)
I bring this up because a bill passed the Illinois State Senate which would make gay marriage legal. It is now being debated in the Illinois State House. I'm not the praying sort, but if I was, I would be praying with all of my might that this bill passes and Illinois legalizes gay marriage. It's a no-brainer to me - if two people choose to spend their lives together, they should legally be allowed to do so, and they should be afforded the same legal rights that go along with marriage as every single other married couple. I can't think of a good reason why they shouldn't.
Granted, there are those who say it is "against God." Maybe your God. But if I don't believe in your God, why do I have to be subjected to his laws? The United States grants separation of church and state in many areas, why not this one? There are so many religions and spiritual orientations in this country, and we all have the right to practice whichever one we want; why does one religion get to dictate who everyone is or isn't allowed to marry?
There are those who say it undermines the institution of marriage. Well, I hate to point this out, but marriage is a man-made construct, and an "institution" that has gone through quite a few changes since it's original inception. It came about likely around the time people figured out that men were involved in the baby-making process and and some men didn't want to be raising another guy's kid, so marriage was invented to pair up a man and a woman for procreation purposes so the guy could make sure he was only providing for his own offspring. Romantic, no? These days, marriages exist that have nothing to do with procreation - some couples just choose not to have kids. Marriages exist between more than two people in some religions so there are more people around to take care of the kids. And somewhat recently, we introduced this concept of "love" into marriage - the idea that you should like the person you're going to spend the rest of your life with instead of just entering into a contract with them to share lands and rear offspring. The notion of a romantic marriage seeped into the legal system, allowing spouses the right to visit one another in the hospital when others are not, allowing spouses to inherit from one another when one passes away, allowing tax breaks, and the like. Because if you love someone, you should be able to share in those things and provide for one another, right?
So if we take the idea that you may fall in love with someone you didn't expect to fall in love with, and the idea that you should be able to share your life with the person you love and provide for them and whatnot, the logical conclusion as I see it, is that this right should be extended to everyone, regardless of the sex or gender pairings. Right? Because where and how can you draw that line?
I know, I know, the homophobes are saying you draw the line at two people of the same sex getting married because that idea makes them uncomfortable. You know what? Denying gay and lesbian couples the right to get married will not prevent them from being together. It will not prevent them from falling in love and dedicating their lives to one another. It will not stop them from making love to one another. It will not stop them from building families or building homes or raising brilliant, beautiful children together. All it does is prevent them from being able to be there for each other when they die. It prevents them from being able to provide for one another's future. And why would you want to do that to someone who has done nothing but love another human being? In what world does that make sense?
I wanted this post to be eloquent and thought provoking and...better than I think it is. I wanted it to be one of those things that people read and can't argue with the logic of, but I don't know that it is that. I guess I mostly wanted to say that I want to live in a world where every shiny box is treated with the same love, reverence, and respect as every other shiny box, because there are so many, they are so beautiful, and because ooo! Shiny!
Watched it? Yes? Good?
Okay. So that's the starting point for this discussion, and I just want to say really quickly that the beauty of two shiny boxes exploding into millions of shiny boxes is what gets me every time. So much beauty and so much love. It reduces me to the point of not being able to use words. I love that image of millions of shiny boxes, each one as beautiful as the last, in all of the colors of the rainbow. I like thinking about human sexuality that way.
I realize that not everybody looks at human sexuality that way, though, and it makes me sad. Because for me, it kind of goes like this.
Let's say your entire life, you've been attracted to redheads. Who isn't attracted to redheads, right? They're gorgeous and graceful and every time you fantasize about who you want your ideal life mate to be, that person always has red hair. And then one day, you meet this brunette who just knocks you on your ass. This brunette is kind and thoughtful and intelligent and likes the same leisure activities you do and the two of you communicate well and have similar life goals and spiritual beliefs and you just can't imagine your life without this person. Suddenly, the fantasy of the redhead seems so much less important than the idea of spending your life with this specific brunette, yes? I think most people can wrap their brains around that - the idea that you fall in love with the person, not necessarily the package they come in. So let's extrapolate that same idea out further and say it's not just the person's hair color that isn't what you expected yourself to love, but their eye color is different than you imagined. Or their body shape. Or their skin color. Or their genitalia. Are you not still falling in love with the person instead of the package they come in? At what point is it okay to draw the line and say that's not acceptable? At what point is it okay to say, "No, you and this other consenting adult are not allowed to enter into a relationship because of x?"
(I point out "consenting adults" because I think it is important for me to clarify that I think pedophilia is the point at which lines must be drawn. Kids who are too young to understand what is going on should not be subjected to the sexual desires of others. For that matter, adults who are old enough to understand what's going on should not be subjected to the sexual desires of others with whom they don't agree, though one would hope the adults have the tools to be able to say "no" to such situations whereas children may not know how to stand up for themselves.)
I bring this up because a bill passed the Illinois State Senate which would make gay marriage legal. It is now being debated in the Illinois State House. I'm not the praying sort, but if I was, I would be praying with all of my might that this bill passes and Illinois legalizes gay marriage. It's a no-brainer to me - if two people choose to spend their lives together, they should legally be allowed to do so, and they should be afforded the same legal rights that go along with marriage as every single other married couple. I can't think of a good reason why they shouldn't.
Granted, there are those who say it is "against God." Maybe your God. But if I don't believe in your God, why do I have to be subjected to his laws? The United States grants separation of church and state in many areas, why not this one? There are so many religions and spiritual orientations in this country, and we all have the right to practice whichever one we want; why does one religion get to dictate who everyone is or isn't allowed to marry?
There are those who say it undermines the institution of marriage. Well, I hate to point this out, but marriage is a man-made construct, and an "institution" that has gone through quite a few changes since it's original inception. It came about likely around the time people figured out that men were involved in the baby-making process and and some men didn't want to be raising another guy's kid, so marriage was invented to pair up a man and a woman for procreation purposes so the guy could make sure he was only providing for his own offspring. Romantic, no? These days, marriages exist that have nothing to do with procreation - some couples just choose not to have kids. Marriages exist between more than two people in some religions so there are more people around to take care of the kids. And somewhat recently, we introduced this concept of "love" into marriage - the idea that you should like the person you're going to spend the rest of your life with instead of just entering into a contract with them to share lands and rear offspring. The notion of a romantic marriage seeped into the legal system, allowing spouses the right to visit one another in the hospital when others are not, allowing spouses to inherit from one another when one passes away, allowing tax breaks, and the like. Because if you love someone, you should be able to share in those things and provide for one another, right?
So if we take the idea that you may fall in love with someone you didn't expect to fall in love with, and the idea that you should be able to share your life with the person you love and provide for them and whatnot, the logical conclusion as I see it, is that this right should be extended to everyone, regardless of the sex or gender pairings. Right? Because where and how can you draw that line?
I know, I know, the homophobes are saying you draw the line at two people of the same sex getting married because that idea makes them uncomfortable. You know what? Denying gay and lesbian couples the right to get married will not prevent them from being together. It will not prevent them from falling in love and dedicating their lives to one another. It will not stop them from making love to one another. It will not stop them from building families or building homes or raising brilliant, beautiful children together. All it does is prevent them from being able to be there for each other when they die. It prevents them from being able to provide for one another's future. And why would you want to do that to someone who has done nothing but love another human being? In what world does that make sense?
I wanted this post to be eloquent and thought provoking and...better than I think it is. I wanted it to be one of those things that people read and can't argue with the logic of, but I don't know that it is that. I guess I mostly wanted to say that I want to live in a world where every shiny box is treated with the same love, reverence, and respect as every other shiny box, because there are so many, they are so beautiful, and because ooo! Shiny!
March 1 - The Things They Teach You In School
Rabbit, rabbit, it's March 1! When did that happen?
I remember as a kid in elementary school, when we were learning about the seasons, they made us learn the phrase "March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb." Meaning, spring happens in March, so at the beginning of the month the weather is annoying and winter-like, but by the end of the month, things have changed and the weather is happy and spring-like. I don't know why this particular phrase was so important to my elementary school teachers, but I remember it being on a test. They wanted us to remember "in like a lion, out like a lamb" so desperately that they tested us on it.
Sadly, Mother Nature is completely unaware of this phrase and does whatever the hell she wants with the weather.
Happy March, everybody!
I remember as a kid in elementary school, when we were learning about the seasons, they made us learn the phrase "March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb." Meaning, spring happens in March, so at the beginning of the month the weather is annoying and winter-like, but by the end of the month, things have changed and the weather is happy and spring-like. I don't know why this particular phrase was so important to my elementary school teachers, but I remember it being on a test. They wanted us to remember "in like a lion, out like a lamb" so desperately that they tested us on it.
Sadly, Mother Nature is completely unaware of this phrase and does whatever the hell she wants with the weather.
Happy March, everybody!
Saturday, January 12, 2013
January 12 - Really? Really?
I realize that vegans only make up about two percent of the population in the United States. That's fine. I know I'm in the minority. I also know that I am not a particularly annoying vegan. I don't point at those who eat meat and call them names. I don't make people feel bad for eating meat around me. This is my choice for my life that works for me and I like it.
That being said, when I order food for delivery or in a restaurant, I do sometimes ask them to tweak things a bit to accommodate my dietary choices. Pizza without cheese, for example. Most places are fine with this sort of thing. Those that aren't don't get my business. I'm sure they don't even notice.
So imagine my surprise when I place a phone order for pizza, specifying that it should be their vegetarian special and asking that it not have cheese on it, and the pizza arrives with sausage all over it. Not just one piece that accidentally fell onto the pizza due to an unorganized work station. All over the pizza. Sausage on the VEGETARIAN SPECIAL.
What the fuck?
I wish there was a kinder way to say that, but I think that swear is deserved. Who looks at an order for a cheeseless vegetarian pizza and thinks, "I should put sausage on this?" Even if the handwriting that took the order is bad, wouldn't you maybe ask? "Hey, did this customer really ask for sausage on their cheeseless vegetarian pizza?" Are people so obtuse that they don't realize that most of the people who order the VEGETARIAN SPECIAL order it specifically because it DOESN'T have meat on it? Do they think the customer wouldn't notice?
I don't mean to rant, and I don't want to be that person. But you know what? Fuck you for putting sausage on my cheeseless VEGETARIAN SPECIAL pizza. You have reduced me to the basest of curses, and tainted my impression of your usually delicious pizzas. Fuck you for fucking up my pizza.
That being said, when I order food for delivery or in a restaurant, I do sometimes ask them to tweak things a bit to accommodate my dietary choices. Pizza without cheese, for example. Most places are fine with this sort of thing. Those that aren't don't get my business. I'm sure they don't even notice.
So imagine my surprise when I place a phone order for pizza, specifying that it should be their vegetarian special and asking that it not have cheese on it, and the pizza arrives with sausage all over it. Not just one piece that accidentally fell onto the pizza due to an unorganized work station. All over the pizza. Sausage on the VEGETARIAN SPECIAL.
What the fuck?
I wish there was a kinder way to say that, but I think that swear is deserved. Who looks at an order for a cheeseless vegetarian pizza and thinks, "I should put sausage on this?" Even if the handwriting that took the order is bad, wouldn't you maybe ask? "Hey, did this customer really ask for sausage on their cheeseless vegetarian pizza?" Are people so obtuse that they don't realize that most of the people who order the VEGETARIAN SPECIAL order it specifically because it DOESN'T have meat on it? Do they think the customer wouldn't notice?
I don't mean to rant, and I don't want to be that person. But you know what? Fuck you for putting sausage on my cheeseless VEGETARIAN SPECIAL pizza. You have reduced me to the basest of curses, and tainted my impression of your usually delicious pizzas. Fuck you for fucking up my pizza.
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