October 2009


It’s that time of year again. The time when men get to use Halloween to wear dresses, makeup and pantyhose out in public and pretend they don’t like it.

It’s the time when women are required to dress like sluts. Slutty nurse, slutty devil, slutty Catholic girl … you get the idea. witch_halloween

I’m not the first woman to bitch about this phenomenon so I’ll keep my soapbox ranting on this brief.

Here are four reasons single ladies should dress like a Geek, not a slut, for Halloween.

1.    Guys like geeks. The good guys really do appreciate a girl who knows some obscure pop culture or video game reference. I.E. Wow – this girl is beautiful AND fascinating. Even a basic She-Ra costume is likely to get more “awesome!”s than the slutty devil.

2.    Guys like creativity. ANY girl can grab the nearest set of fishnets and some four-inch plastic platforms from Priscilla’s. But hand-painting that cardboard box and making a cardboard hat to make yourself look like the Wicked Witch of the East? That’s taking it to the next level.

3.    Almost EVERY OTHER FEMALE in the bar/at the party will be dressed as a slut. Why not stand out from the crowd? Your androgynous Boba Fett outfit is going to get a LOT more attention.

4.    If you MUST be a slut for Halloween, at least geek it up a bit. Be Kitana from Mortal Kombat.

I need to hear from the guys on this one. Maybe I’m waaay off base here. Are you excited that once a year the conservative gals strip down to high heel military boots and a spiked collar? Or would you rather chat up the chick in the Princess Leia white drape and buns?

I pedaled frantically, but I could not keep up with Kevin on a bicycle. I waved for him to go ahead … the 3 p.m. deadline was nearing and we had to get more clues.   ring_box

Red-faced and sweaty, I continued biking at a steady pace, watching him weave in and out of traffic on Wilmington Street.

When I arrived at the history museum, I found him standing near the statues. He’d gotten the answer, and had another clue for us. And off we went on our bikes again.

The Bailey’s Scavenger hunt for the ring was AWESOME!

Kevin and I competed Saturday with at least 1,000 people for a $20,000 ring. If you saw people running around downtown in red “Bailey’s” shirts, that was us.

They used a texting service to organize it, which meant we signed up with our phones and received text message clues, directing us to a location in downtown Raleigh. First, we had to answer correctly with the location. Then we were given at least one, sometimes two other clues about that spot. Most of them were historical spots around Raleigh – the ones you see with plaques by the road. The governor’s mansion, Shaw University, the Haywood House.

Generally, you had to be there to know the answer.

We had to get as many answers as we could by 3 p.m. when the competition ended. After competing in the not-so-organized Raleigh Typhoon this year, he and I were thrilled about how easy, fun and fair this was.

Even if I worked my ass off on a bike to do it.

Along the way, we saw many angry couples. Women screaming, “Get over here NOW!” to their partners. Dejected looking couples standing with maps on corners, arguing about which way to find Hargett Street.

Kevin and I are near-experts on downtown, so we knew a lot of them without going, and when we went, we knew where to be.

Which is probably how we scored in the top 10! No, we did not win the ring.

But our consolation prize of Hurricanes’ tickets is just fine. I would do this again. And we learned that we can be competitive together and still remain happy afterward.

That’s a prize worth more than any jewelry.

OMG! Tomorrow I MIGHT be the proud owner of a very expensive ring from Bailey’s Fine Jewelery. ring_box

Most women spend years looking for a ring — and the man who is going to get down on one knee and pull out the tiny black box with that ring inside.

But my ring hunt is going to be a little different. It’s a scavenger hunt in downtown Raleigh. To even get in, Kevin and I to register and explain why we were worthy of running all over downtown looking for a shiny piece of compressed overpriced carbon inside a black-and-white striped Bailey box.

Did I mention that piece of carbon is worth $20,000?

Apparently the clues are given out via text message and the first one to find the box gets to keep it and the diamond inside!!!

My fellowship of the ring — that’s Kevin and I for you non-geeks — know a LOT about downtown, so we’re very excited about this. And no, if we win, that won’t make us officially engaged.

But hell, for a ring like that I’d marry Frodo.

parachute

I don’t think I could ever go skydiving.

I know a lot of people see it as a bid adventure, and I think I’d probably like it. But could I really do it? I don’t know.

What gets me is the “jump out of the plane” part. There you are, how many thousands of feet in the air, and you’re going to intentionally fling yourself out into the great wide open expanse of sky, hoping a thin piece of material catches you?

Sounds sketchy to me.

I’m also slightly afraid of children. Sounds dumb, right?

Not afraid, really. It’s more that I don’t know how to act around them. My younger sister is only 18 months younger. I rarely babysat as a kid, and a post-grad school overseas stint as a nanny didn’t last long or endear me to 4-year-old Italian boys.

So when a girl I know mentioned not long ago that she and her boyfriend-to-be-husband someday aren’t going to have kids, I couldn’t blame her.

LOOK OUT!!! KA-SMACK! [This is where an ACME safe falls on my head.]

NO KIDS??? At all?? EVER? REALLY?

It’s not that such a decision is that shocking I suppose. What’s more shocking is that I would even question it. These days, it’s not like women are child-churning factories expected to stay home with babies and do little else.

But in the past, she has occasionally mentioned the casual, “When I have a daughter someday, I’ll dress her up in that” or “when I have kids I’ll do x-y-z” or whatever along those lines.

Of course, now we’re older and we each know more about ourselves and what we want.

No kids = more money, more travel, sex, fun with the love of your life. Freedom from crying babies, 2 a.m. feedings, teething, saggy boobs from breastfeeding, teenagers who talk back and sneak out of the house. (more…)

♫ Should I stay or should I go now? If I go there will be trouble … if I stay there will be double. ♫

Leslie sat there, humming this little diddy, wondering what to do.longdistancecomms01_003370_tns

OK, she wasn’t really humming, more like crying. And she knew what she needed to do, but that didn’t make her choice any easier.

It was time to dump her hot, amazing boyfriend.

He was going to be moving within a few months for another job — to far for long distance even if they were interested in trying it. He said they should keep dating until he left. She didn’t want to be the girl who dated him for something to do. If it’s not going to work out, it’s not going to work out. No sense in prolonging the inevitable.

So she broke up with him.

A few months later, the were back together. She’d run into him and he wanted her back. His job situation had changed. Insert blissfully happy few months here.

Then, a few weeks ago, he was offered an awesome job – this time in D.C. — and he will be moving out of the Triangle soon. Besides, she told me, “there were a few other things that led me to believe he wasn’t it.” And so, once again, it’s over.

Once again, she’s sad, but Leslie is a strong woman, and knows she made the right choice. Kudos to her. I’m the fool that stayed with a guy for four months after he moved. I spent my weekends driving the four hours between us to see him. All this after only a month of dating.

Then one day over the phone he tells me he’s “unhappy” and “depressed” and he doesn’t know what to do. This time, he’s the one humming the song, “Should I Stay or Should I go Now.”

These days, I know that’s code for “I want to breakup but I’m too chicken shit to just find my balls and say so.” But then, in my more naive times, I thought he just needed more space, or needed to see me. Weeks of drama, tears, arguing. He even got me a Valentine’s Day gift just to confuse me.

No more long distance for Suzanne, who is now a stronger woman for it. So Leslie, this is for you. You kick ass, and I’m proud of you and impressed.

This blog is often about relationships. Our relationship with the planet is a big one.

world_earth_106863_tnsToday, I’m straying from topic, because it’s Blog Action Day. On this day each year, bloggers can volunteer to devote their space to a particular topic.  This year’s topic is Climate Change. I agreed to participate, because I’m a big fan of improving the way humans live on the planet.

I will always argue to recycle if you can. I will also tell you to turn off lights you’re not using, and to switch out those old bulbs for more efficient ones. But even though I personally like to tell others how to be more green, I don’t want to stand on a soapbox and preach about this.

So I will just say this.  (more…)

I rolled my eyes at Kevin the other night. The milk in his fridge had gone bad, and I was planning to eat a snacktime bowl of cereal. He says his milk has always lasted until the stamped date – in this case Oct. 20. He looked at me as if my sniffer had gone bad. I dumped the milk. milk_sour_104871_tns

I admit I sounded irritated about it. Later, I realized it was the closest we’d come to getting cranky with each other – ever – in six months. Wow.

I could sit here and complain about how annoying men can be. Doesn’t he trust me to say the milk is gross? I obviously have superior smelling skills.

I could brag about how lucky I am that we’ve still never had a real argument yet about anything.

But that same day in the news I heard some people marched to bring awareness to domestic violence homicides.  Apparently there have been four in Wake County this year.

I also saw an item about a military spouse whose play on abuse is coming to Fayetteville State University’s Seabrook Auditorium, Oct. 31.

The play, “Women Shoptalk While Real Men Wait” is by Carolyn Louise Herring Moore, a playwright from Colorado Springs, Colo.

According to the Fort Bragg article on it:

The woman she sees in her bleaker yesterdays is unrecognizable to her now, almost a stranger. For one, her fear is gone and there is strength in its place. She is outgoing again and pursuing dreams that for so long an abusive husband kept frozen in a life of total control and violence. What’s more, she’s doing her part to help people in the community suffering or recovering from domestic violence.

“Women Shoptalk While Real Men Wait” tells the story of Moore’s 10-year-long relationship with a controlling and abusive man. It details not only how she was affected, but how her entire Family and community were impacted by the violence.

There are women out there with real problems. Abuse is a serious issue. Women — and men — every day out there suffer abuse.

Flickr Creative Commons

Flickr Creative Commons

I’m not always serious on this blog, and I know this isn’t  a fun topic, but it just got me thinking about sour milk.

If that’s the worst taste I have to deal with, it’s not such a bad deal.

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