Okay. Well, it’s New Years Resolution time again. 2010 was the Year of Small Meals. And I would call this year a draw at moderately successful. I did pretty okay, but you know sometimes that thing called “life” would happen and some days were better than others. But I was pretty could about jumping back in the saddle every time I fell off. And that’s okay in my book. Of course, the Lent thing, which was supposed to be temporary pretty much stuck to me like glue. I’m about 85% off high processed foods. And I’m feeling pretty good (though I’m feeling pretty pissed about feeling pretty good – life was a lot easier when I could eat Lantz peanut butter crackers at will).
So. The diet thing has been working for me for resolutions of short or long duration. Dammit. I think there’s one I need to work on. The generally accepted recommendation of 5 servings of fruits and vegetables a day. Dude. That is not easy. Especially given that I don’t like vegetables.
So here’s the plan. I’m going to have as a goal that by the end of March I will be hitting the 5 a day. But if it’s 5 pieces of fruit that’s okay. Then by the end of the year, I will be eating at least 3 vegetables and 2 fruits a day. And I’m not going to p**** out like some people do by counting dried beans. That’s just weak. Real actual vegetables like zucchini. Shudder. And I’m actually going to keep track of things, and chart my progress. Accountability!!
And, gawd as my witness, I will figure out a way to like vegetables. And vegetables for their own sake. Not just as a convenient method for ingesting cheese, sour cream and bacon (though one friend made brussel sprouts with bacon for Thanksgiving – you could hardly taste the sprouts). My Mom used to threaten my brother and I that if we didn’t stop fighting she was going to find a rope and tie us together kissing until we loved each other. Maybe if I tie myself to an eggplant I’ll have some sort of vegetable epiphany. I hope it doesn’t come to that.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
About face!
Okay, to protect the innocent (not me in this instance) I’m going to have to be oblique. Possibly this will make the overall story pretty incomprehensible. But when has that ever stopped me before? We’ll just see what happens.
Anyway. I hate it when I have to revise my opinions on people. I don’t make snap judgments. Well, rarely. But when I’ve formed my opinion, I just want things to stay that way. I especially hate it when I’ve decided not to like someone, and then have to about face and like them. A little.
Basically, someone unexpected did me a solid. And now I’m kind of forced to like them. Huff. Not that it was actual dislike in the first place, mind you. I’d just decided to not form any sort of temperature for toward them. Neither warm nor cold. Sort of like the San Diego of opinions. Then came the solid. Well, poop. Now I’m going to have to like you. A little. Not more than a little. And I’m just not budging on that.
Because that whole like/dislike axis colors everything about how you take in information about a person. When you like someone, you give them a Mulligan on anything they do. You just assume that it came from a good place and they had good intentions. But if someone you dislike does the same thing, you assume that there is some dastardly ulterior motive. Honestly, when Dick Cheney is supportive of the lesbian daughter, don’t you kind of suspect that there’s some kind of nasty endgame there? Like maybe he’s going to bring down P-Flag from the inside.
So, somebody did something nice, for which I can find no possible ulterior motive. So now, the like. A little. Now I’m going to have to give the benefit of the doubt all the time. Huff, huff, huff. This is why I don’t automatically like many people. It’s nothing but work, work, work after that.
But forget it, Dick. I’m just not going to give in on you. You could donate your kidney to an Iraqi orphan and be a guest judge on Rupaul’s Drag Race. I’m just not budging.
Anyway. I hate it when I have to revise my opinions on people. I don’t make snap judgments. Well, rarely. But when I’ve formed my opinion, I just want things to stay that way. I especially hate it when I’ve decided not to like someone, and then have to about face and like them. A little.
Basically, someone unexpected did me a solid. And now I’m kind of forced to like them. Huff. Not that it was actual dislike in the first place, mind you. I’d just decided to not form any sort of temperature for toward them. Neither warm nor cold. Sort of like the San Diego of opinions. Then came the solid. Well, poop. Now I’m going to have to like you. A little. Not more than a little. And I’m just not budging on that.
Because that whole like/dislike axis colors everything about how you take in information about a person. When you like someone, you give them a Mulligan on anything they do. You just assume that it came from a good place and they had good intentions. But if someone you dislike does the same thing, you assume that there is some dastardly ulterior motive. Honestly, when Dick Cheney is supportive of the lesbian daughter, don’t you kind of suspect that there’s some kind of nasty endgame there? Like maybe he’s going to bring down P-Flag from the inside.
So, somebody did something nice, for which I can find no possible ulterior motive. So now, the like. A little. Now I’m going to have to give the benefit of the doubt all the time. Huff, huff, huff. This is why I don’t automatically like many people. It’s nothing but work, work, work after that.
But forget it, Dick. I’m just not going to give in on you. You could donate your kidney to an Iraqi orphan and be a guest judge on Rupaul’s Drag Race. I’m just not budging.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Clean Slate
I’ve been reading Slate.com for about, oh, 6 months. Initially, I kind of liked their sort-of outsider perspective. They always had a different take on issues than anyone else.
Then I slowly realized it’s not so much outsider as . . . they’re kind of just haters. The reason they always have a different perspective is that they disagree with EVERYTHING. I haven’t actually figured out what anyone there stands for other than against anything anyone else may have thought up. They even recently had an article with a polemic against the caps lock key. Seriously. This is what ruins their days at Slate. Oh. And they have Christopher Hitchens. ‘Nough said. Usually they only have positive columns of the “best of” variety. Everything else is “What Just Happened and Why It’s Bad – and You’re an Idiot If You Think Otherwise.”
I’m not against the contrarian viewpoint. I like a little versus. It ain't all gumdrops and daffodils. But honestly, just statistically speaking, not everything can be wrong. All the time. Here’s an editorial assignment for the people at Slate: go out and do a human interest story about, I don’t know, puppies or rainbows or baby smiles.
And don’t turn it into a column about how puppies are so over-rated.
Then I slowly realized it’s not so much outsider as . . . they’re kind of just haters. The reason they always have a different perspective is that they disagree with EVERYTHING. I haven’t actually figured out what anyone there stands for other than against anything anyone else may have thought up. They even recently had an article with a polemic against the caps lock key. Seriously. This is what ruins their days at Slate. Oh. And they have Christopher Hitchens. ‘Nough said. Usually they only have positive columns of the “best of” variety. Everything else is “What Just Happened and Why It’s Bad – and You’re an Idiot If You Think Otherwise.”
I’m not against the contrarian viewpoint. I like a little versus. It ain't all gumdrops and daffodils. But honestly, just statistically speaking, not everything can be wrong. All the time. Here’s an editorial assignment for the people at Slate: go out and do a human interest story about, I don’t know, puppies or rainbows or baby smiles.
And don’t turn it into a column about how puppies are so over-rated.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
If you don't have anything nice to say . . . come sit by me.
Well, Miss Gwyneth is getting lots of buzz for being a "best dressed" for this one. And I agree. She must have been the prettiest girl at Scores that night. Nothing like a laced up side-slit to say, "They don't call this a "gentleman's club" for nothing, mister." Course, given the view we have, I'm not really sure where the tip would go. G-strings are fun and functional, Gwynnie.Alright, alright. I know I'm being a bitch about this. But sometimes, if you're going to wear something, yes, I'm going to talk about you. Yes, she looks gorgeous. Yes, she can get away with it. Yes, the dress is hot as hell. Hot. And whorey. Or strippery. Because, frankly, I've seen way too many dresses like this on actual strippers (don't ask me how) to not recognize the inspiration. Of course if this were an actual stripper, she wouldn't have the nun neckline.
And I'm from Texas. I have a genetic predisposition to point out when somebody showed up at the party showing off the good china. But, here's a little secret, if you are the girl who shows up in the little cha-cha dress, we just love you. Don't ever stop. You're the bit of sauce that makes the dish. Every party needs a little something to talk about.
Cheers, Gwynnie. You look . . . amazing. Yes, that's the word. I truly am amazed.
Monday, December 13, 2010
The Corps de Ballet
http://news.yahoo.com/s/yblog_thelookout/20101213/us_yblog_thelookout/sugar-plum-fairy-doesnt-want-apology-from-critic-who-called-her-fat
Okay, this is about the ballet dancer that the ballet critic said was a few sugar plums over fairy weight. I’ve seen the footage. Let’s just start with, she’s not fat. And the fact that she considers herself “womanly” is a measure of how wonky the ballet perception of body types is. Womanly? Not by a long shot, Slim. From the description I was expecting, if not a Fantasia-style dancing hippo, then at least something that approached voluptuous. Instead, she has the kind of build most women won’t see after their 18th birthday. And, at least to my eyes, she appears light and floaty, like any other dancer.
And actually, I think it’s one of those things where when you’re inside the group you just don’t see the group think. Yes, there’s a certain ideal in ballet. There’s an ideal in the fashion industry. There’s an ideal in professional football. But that doesn’t mean that someone who doesn’t fit the ideal can’t achieve. Could a ballerina who is truly overweight achieve something graceful and visually appealing? Possibly, but you might never get to see it if she could. Because she isn’t what a choreographer sees in their mind’s eye, she might never get a chance.
Sure, every industry has the right to set their own standards. But ballet would do well to remember what happened to the American car industry. They fell into group think about what an ideal American car should be. And slowly but surely, that ideal became less and less what actual Americans wanted to buy. They idealed themselves right out of the market. Fashion is seeing this with their waif-like ideal. Major fashion houses are going under for sticking to that ideal, and Jessica Simpson is approaching the $1 billion dollar mark in sales designing for people who aren’t stick figures (gawd I love that – go, Jess). And people like my Mom, who appreciate a fast-paced version of football that the titans of the NFL aren’t able to achieve, are now watching college ball, where the players still look like someone you could actually meet on the street, without worrying about being squashed.
But apparently, the fact that so few people have any interest in the ballet as an art form hasn’t penetrated yet. Maybe if more parents hesitate to send their daughters to ballet class out of fear of their child developing a warped body image, maybe then they might get the message. Or maybe they’ll stick to their ideal right into oblivion along with the Humvee. A shame, considering how much grace and discipline the ballet can teach.
Okay, this is about the ballet dancer that the ballet critic said was a few sugar plums over fairy weight. I’ve seen the footage. Let’s just start with, she’s not fat. And the fact that she considers herself “womanly” is a measure of how wonky the ballet perception of body types is. Womanly? Not by a long shot, Slim. From the description I was expecting, if not a Fantasia-style dancing hippo, then at least something that approached voluptuous. Instead, she has the kind of build most women won’t see after their 18th birthday. And, at least to my eyes, she appears light and floaty, like any other dancer.
And actually, I think it’s one of those things where when you’re inside the group you just don’t see the group think. Yes, there’s a certain ideal in ballet. There’s an ideal in the fashion industry. There’s an ideal in professional football. But that doesn’t mean that someone who doesn’t fit the ideal can’t achieve. Could a ballerina who is truly overweight achieve something graceful and visually appealing? Possibly, but you might never get to see it if she could. Because she isn’t what a choreographer sees in their mind’s eye, she might never get a chance.
Sure, every industry has the right to set their own standards. But ballet would do well to remember what happened to the American car industry. They fell into group think about what an ideal American car should be. And slowly but surely, that ideal became less and less what actual Americans wanted to buy. They idealed themselves right out of the market. Fashion is seeing this with their waif-like ideal. Major fashion houses are going under for sticking to that ideal, and Jessica Simpson is approaching the $1 billion dollar mark in sales designing for people who aren’t stick figures (gawd I love that – go, Jess). And people like my Mom, who appreciate a fast-paced version of football that the titans of the NFL aren’t able to achieve, are now watching college ball, where the players still look like someone you could actually meet on the street, without worrying about being squashed.
But apparently, the fact that so few people have any interest in the ballet as an art form hasn’t penetrated yet. Maybe if more parents hesitate to send their daughters to ballet class out of fear of their child developing a warped body image, maybe then they might get the message. Or maybe they’ll stick to their ideal right into oblivion along with the Humvee. A shame, considering how much grace and discipline the ballet can teach.
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