And sometimes, I really hate where I work

Bring on the unisex jump suits

You'll notice that my hair changes. It does sometimes, maybe I have pig tails, maybe it is down. But usually it looks shitty and I don't have bangs because I have a mother fucking cow lick which I have no idea what is but prevents me from being able to rock bangs.

When I draw comics of myself I try to make my dress a different color for variety's sake but in real life, I'm very boring and stick to black, gray, and navy/denim as much as I possibly can. It is a rare day indeed that I'm not wearing either black or jeans so really, if I were to be true to who I am comic style, I would look boring and depressed. Really, I'm just lazy and play it safe. Do you know how easy it is when you only wear a handful of colors? Super easy is how. The clothing in my closet that doesn't get worn is the clothing that is some random color or style that doesn't match a fuck thing I own (or else won't fit my fat ass without fishing wire and crisco). But black matches EVERYTHING! Why wouldn't I just wear that?

Actually, if I had the balls (figuratively of course), I would wear all black every day with maybe a pop of color in the shoe. In my dream world, I wear black leggings or tights, a black skirt, and a black top every single day. I'm all for uniforms. I don't need to 'express' who I am through what I'm wearing. The denim jacket and black ballet flats that I'm wearing right now don't say a mother fucking thing. They just keep me slightly warm and prevent me from fucking up my feet. Who gets dressed thinking "I want my outfit to scream to every sighted person who I am and what I'm about" other than hipsters?

I like people who say they don't care about physical appearance and so they dress really shitty on purpose to show you just how above the whole superficial melee they are. But guess what dicks, you put just as much effort into buying shitty crap to make sure people think that you don't care as other people do into buying non shitty crap. The only people who probably truly don't give a shit are farmers who wear overalls and plaid shirts.

So get over yourselves hipsters and too cool for school types. When you die you'll probably shit yourself like the rest of us regardless of your interesting facial hair and tight pants.

What's up blog? I feel like I've been a bit dull

Awesomeness Russian Nesting Doll Style

The blogging world fucking rocks. Sometimes you find a really great site that you started following like a year and a half ago and still enjoy and then, every so often, that great blog gives you the gift of another rad as shit blog to follow! When that happens it is a two for one on par with buy some tonic get the vodka free or something.

I've been reading the fantastic Whoopee! for quite some time now and not only have I enjoyed the writing/stories/comedy but just by checking regularly, I've found this big bag of greatness! Seriously, check it out. I now have another new obsession!

Sometimes I really love my office

I just had the following conversation with the general manager of my company.

Him: "That contract you forwarded takes up 25 jigawatts of space."

Me: "Jigawatts? What's a jigawatt?"

Him: "It's what powers the flux capicitor."

Sometimes it feels like I married a moody teenager. I love J to bits but lately there have been too many sighs and grumbles and black moods...

Let me stop right there. Do you ever find yourself wanting to tear your hair out, wanting to scream, wanting to complain to your best friend about how you just can't take it because you significant other is complaining and griping all the time and then, on top of the frustration and upset, feel the added weight of tremendous guilt because it isn't like your significant other chooses to feel these things? I do, all the bloody time. I continually complain in my hard copy journal about how J is depressed, how he moans and bitches but doesn't seem to do much about it and then I feel guilty and ashamed for not being more sympathetic. Some days I dread going home. I dread hearing him say how he can't keep doing what he is doing, that he hates school and wants out, that no one is hiring, that he is crazy, and so on and so on. I want to yell at him to do something about it. Fucking quit school and spend all day looking for work. Or else deal with it and continue with school because not everyone loves their job. And go see a fucking shrink. I know you think they are useless, you tell me so all the time. But guess the fuck what... some times they work! Sometimes people have their lives saved by them. I did. I will take medication for the rest of my life because I have a disorder that is treated by the psychiatric world and it sucks but not as bad as being untreated sucks.

Suck it the fuck up, kid.

And then I feel terrible because I love this person and he was treated cruelly by his parents and he was born without part of his left arm and life just hasn't been good to him so the people who love him should.

Ferraro

Geraldine Ferraro ran as the vice presidential nominee in 1984 when I was three years-old. She has died, at the age of 75 and when J and I spoke about it, he made a comment that essentially said "who cares that she ran for vice president? She lost. People don't care about who lost." When I realized that he was serious, I wanted to hit him. He went on to say that it only matters in this backwater country because other places have had female prime ministers and presidents and vice presidents for years. That did not make me feel better but simply made me angrier that he didn't think it mattered that this woman paved the way for other hopefuls and that her ground-breaking achievement in 1984 pointed out all too clearly how non-progressive our country is.

The world as a whole still does not treat women as equal citizens. We have come a long way but we are still second class. We do not have 100% control of our reproductive rights (men do), we still do not receive equal pay in the work-place, and our body parts are still considered items that must be shielded from both children and adults (Ohio recently passed a law to enforce the use of pasties in strip clubs... nipples are evil). Tits are to be covered and hidden in shame. Women in the locker room at my gym do all sorts of tricky maneuvers in order to undress and dress without showing any skin because we have had a lifetime to learn to be ashamed of our bodies.

And this is in the US, the land of opportunity. I'm not even outlining what it is like to be in a country under the rule of the Taliban or one under a religion that calls for women to cover up from head to toe and not be seen unaccompanied by a man. The US is so incredibly fortunate that it is appalling that we have not yet had a female president. Did I vote for Hillary Rodham-Clinton to run as the Democratic nominee during the last election? No. You know why? Because I felt it was more important for Democrats to win than to push the feminist agenda and I knew my country would vote for a black man before they would vote for <<shudder>> a woman. I was more concerned with not continuing under a Republican regime than with asking people to open their eyes and understand that my gender is competent, intelligent, and capable. It was a difficult choice.

That being said, it was a choice I am glad I had to make. And I thank Geraldine Ferraro for making it a choice I actually had to make.