Posts Tagged 'jerkstores'

Cruelty

My friend Sara commented on my last post, asking if I had seen the Marie Claire hoopla (her brilliant phrasing).  I had not, and so I immediately took to Google and learned that some genius had recently blogged about her aversion to seeing fat people making out.  Actually, she went so far as to say she is grossed out by fat people doing anything.  Of course, a lot of people responded with criticism.

Here’s the thing for me.  I think it’s great she posted what she posted.  In part.  I wish, though, that she weren’t so Brad Pitt about it and had even half of a sensitivity chip.  Not sensitivity as far as offending people (because she obviously knew she would), but sensitive enough to know that what she said revealed herself as a hateful, cruel person. 

It doesn’t bother me that someone would say, “I get kinda grossed out by fat people” as long as that person goes on to say, “And I know it’s mean and I feel bad about it.”  It’s sort of like the Juan Williams thing…He was expressing how he feels when a man in Muslim-wear gets on a plane.  He certainly didn’t seem to be condoning his feelings or bragging about them (at least I didn’t think so).  This woman, though, has the audacity and ignorance and general jerkstore-ness to say that she gets grossed out by fat people and then goes on to tell people not to eat processed foods.  She has no awareness that her feelings are horribly mean.

She stated in a national magazine for women that she is grossed out by overweight people doing anything.  Anything!  She is grossed out by fat people going to the gym, being at the movies, sitting in their car, breathing.  She is telling people — women — that fat people have no business existing in this world.  Or, I suppose, they can exist, but they should make sure no one sees them.

This really breaks my heart.  It is such a deliberate and cruel attack.  It is a sick statement that instantly dehumanizes so many people.  Her offer of “advice”  to get 30 minutes of exercise five times a week and to eat more fiber is trite and insulting.   People are overweight for any number of reasons, but almost never because they didn’t know that exercising is good for you or high-fructose corn syrup should be avoided. 

She’s just cruel. 

Burned, take twenty-seven

Favre.  That’s really all I can say right now. 

Well, and this: what an ^%$#&*(%.

Open government

Building — sort of — on my last post, I am again perplexed by The Right.  I really am not trying to be partisan here, but what the hell are people talking about?  The latest: this brouhaha over whether members of the Bush administration should be prosecuted for advocating, apologizing for or carrying out torture.  I think that it’s probably a reasonable question about which reasonable people can disagree.  But this is ridiculous.

Peggy Noonan, on Meet the Press this past weekend said, about the so-called torture memos, “Some things in life need to be mysterious,” and” Sometimes you need to just keep walking.”   Additionally, “It’s hard for me to look at a great nation issuing these documents and sending them out to the world and thinking, oh, much good will come of that.”

This is insane.  At a time when the GOP is struggling to remain relevant, I would think the last thing that you’d want to advocate would be for less government accountability and transparency.  Whether or not you are proprosection is beside the point.  Open records laws are at the very heart of our government.  There is little, really, that I consider more American than being able to publicly investigate our government’s goings-on and to take them to task for their actions.  Her position is unreasonable and unAmerican, really.  And it also just seems like dumb strategy.

Of course, Russ and others are already all over this. 

Teapots

I guess I was the last to hear about these imaginative tea parties being hosted by our nation’s finest today.  Well, I’ve heard now.  I just came back from outside where I was checking on what these folks were up to across the street at my beloved Capitol.  There are hundreds of them!  There are buses pulling up and depositing very un-Madisonians all over the Square.  Many are carrying signs that say things like, “Stop taxing me!” or whatnot.  I’m slightly puzzled by the timing of this, as I had more money than before in last week’s paycheck.  I understand, of course, that some people hate paying taxes.  I am not one of them.  I think taxes are very helpful in creating an orderly, civilized society.  I realize, also of course, that these taxes are not always spent by the gov in great ways.  I, like everyone else except people who control these things, am not a big fan of all these bailouts.  I get protesting against stuff like that.  I understand being worried about the debt the country is getting itself further and further into.  Protesting against that makes sense.  But it doesn’t seem to me that that’s what the people across the street are protesting.  I don’t know what the hell they’re protesting actually.  It seems everyone might have a different agenda.  One sign complained that Obama is violating the Tenth Amendment (what?).  One that urged us to make sure we exercised our Second Amendments rights.  Several people had tea bags affixed to their signs.  Someone said they were “Tead off!”  [Side note: some people had some wicked ugly homemade signs.  That always irks me.  You know, like the ones where the person starts out writing something like, “STOP TAXING me” and they have to make the “me” really small because they ran out of room.]  Then there were others who expressed their anger with Doyle, others advocating term limits and still others who want the US out of the United Nations.  Focus, people!  The biggest offender, though, goes to whomever made their eight year old hold a sign that says, “Don’t forget: everything Hitler did was legal.”  Yes, this country right now is strikingly similar to Nazi Germany.  Sharp minds.

LA stories

So, I just flew in from LA and I’m exhausted.  Ok, yes, I didn’t “just” fly in and yes, it is fun to say that and it makes me feel cool (just the letters “LA” resonate with coolness), but I am tired.  That part is true.  I took my first (and last?) redeye home from LAX on Sunday night.  Only it wasn’t quite “home” since I don’t live in Cleveland.  I had to wait almost three hours in Cleveland (from about 6:30 am until 9:15 am) before getting to take an almost two hour flight home.  And then I slept and slept and still wish I were sleeping.

I had such a nice trip, though.  The weather was so lovely, despite what Angelenos may tell you.  Sunny and 60s beats cloudy and 30s every day of the week, if not the year.  It was so ridiculously fun not to have to wear a hat, mittens or even a coat.  Though I was grateful for the long cardigan I  had just splurged on at Anthropologie.  The clerk had told me I would wear it all the time and she was right.  So, I arrived on Thursday night and broke my nail trying to help some guy get his luggage off of the baggage claim and he barely muttered ‘thanks.’  Welcome to California.  But not really because the rest of the trip was peppered with strangers saying things like, “Hi, you guys!” while we passed them on the sidewalk.  I like friendly, but sometimes it was scary — I would wonder if people were mistaking me for a celebrity.  Ha.  Ok, not really.  Anyway, we went to dinner at a joint called Chaya and I’m sure it was good, but I was so nauseous that I thought I was going to hurl.  So, what do I do?  Order a martini and tuna tartar.  What?  Yes, it’s true.  The martini I managed to get down but the tuna tartare looked how I felt.  Why did I order it?  I have no idea.  I’ve never had it before and never want to.  Sarayu had some yummy looking meat, which she was assured had no butter in it when she told the waiter she was gluten-intolerant.  This meal was on the house as Sarayu knew the marketing person or something and called in a fun favor.  It was a bit of a bummer, though, because a free meal at a posh LA restaurant should not = 1 martini + a couple of Sarayu’s raspberries.  Oh well. 

The next day we got up and drove to Griffith Park and went on a hike.  This was quite a feat for two reasons: (1) it took us forever to find the trail head, which is weird because it was clearly marked and had about 100 people on it (with their dogs) and (2) it was steep and hard and I am out of shape.  It was warm and sunny, though, which made it bearable and we got to talk a lot in between breaths.  The view of LA was grand — though views over big cities are always kind of weird to me.  It’s sort of, yes, there are a lot of buildings and cars.  Anyway, the shots I got of the Hollywood sign with Sarayu looking super Hollywood were fun, I thought.  Back down the hill we went and stopped at Griffith Observatory for more observations and for some learning about tides and eclipses and such.  Back down the hill some more and we had lunch OUTSIDE at a super cute place called Alcove.  It was across the street from a small-looking Scientology center (more on Scientologists in a bit).  After this we drove around, poked in a couple of shops and then headed back to Casa de Rao.  That night we had a yummy dinner (mussels, salad and garlicky spinach) at a place called Pace on Laurel Canyon.  It’s weird how everyplace has valet and how you have to valet even when there is a parking lot.  Oh, LA.  So, as we walk in, we run into a casting director that Sarayu knows from a couple of auditions.  As Sarayu said, it was so very LA.  She’s talking to him, giving him a hug, being her charming self.  I have no idea who he is so I’m staring at everyone else around us.  You’d think with the amount of staring I did, I would have spotted some celebs, but no.  I had to keep having Sarayu point them out to me!  At dinner, she discreetly informed me that Anna Faris was at the table kitty-corner behind us and that Ian Ziering was at the bar.  Then came John Henson of Talk Soup fame (fame?) who sat at the table next to us.  Yay!  Celebrities!

The next day we saw Peter Brady at lunch at Hugo’s, which is also famous for serving Kate the most delicious turkey burger she has ever had.  Weirdly, while in LA, I ate two veggie burgers, one turkey burger and one mozzarella panino.  That’s a lot of sandwiches.  I couldn’t shake my sandwich yen.  I think, though, that I’m now in the clear.  This day was Sarayu’s birthday so we did what every girl dreams of on her birthday: going to a super crowded Target.  And it was Saturday.  We did have fun, though, and I got to buy Sarayu some fun stuff to spruce up her already cute apartment.  We got manicures and pedicures at a cute place Sarayu frequents.  This was good except (a) the woman giving me my services kept chastizing me for having such dry, broken nails (being from Wisconsin did not count as an excuse in her eyes) and (b) I ruined my manicure almost immediately.  After this, we rushed home to get ready for the Big Night Out.  We had dinner with Sarayu’s very close friends, Patrick, a professional musician and Scientologist (my first encounter with a real, live one!), and Lacey, a professional actor and all-around nice, nice gal, and their significant others.  Despite the obnoxiousness of the table seating (extremely large table for five tiny Californians and me), it was really pretty fun.  I get nervous talking to strangers (and even friends sometimes), but I thought I did ok and what did it matter?  All eyes were (rightfully) on Sarayu anyway.  I took some pictures that I will soon post.  After dinner, the Lacey contingency left and while the Patrick contingency lingered for a bit, they were gone soon, as well.  Then the rest of Sarayu’s enormous group of LA friends started filtering in to the bar part of the restaurant.  It was fun, but exhausting, meeting everyone.  Sometime after 1, we headed home.  Sunday was spent having a yummy lunch (and no one told me it was the start of DST!  I’ve never been so unprepared!) and going to open houses in North Hollywood and thereabouts.  The least expensive place we saw was $775,000.  It was two beds, two baths and about 1,000 SF.  Hmm.  Cute, but really?  Shocking.  The most expensive one we went to was $1.8 million and was so not cute.  We did, though, find a gem in the Burbank hills.  Built in the 1930s, it had been lovingly restored and had the most beautiful living room with enormous french doors that opened to a lovely backyard. Mmm!  Scruptious.  And it was only $1.3 million.  Hooray!  Sold.

Alas, that night I boarded my flight to fly east.  Before I could do so, however, I had to bear witness to a jerkstore in the aisle of the plane, singing while he boarded.  Singing.  It’s 11:30 pm and he has no ipod, but he does have on aviator sunglasses.  He must have bumped the guy seated in the aisle behind me because a little fracas ensued.  Aviator jerkstore started calling the Aisle Guy “baldy” and “old brother” and stuff, while Aisle Guy just ignored him.  Aviator jerkstore said to the flight attendant standing patiently behind him, “This guy just assaulted me!  I bumped him and he pushed me and said, ‘Don’t do that again!’  You should do something about this.”  And then later, as he made his way down the aisle, “Are you going to follow up on this?”  A couple of minutes later, a sort of official-looking woman comes on the plane and the flight attendant asks Aisle Guy to come with her.  He does.  They leave the plane.  Flight attendant then goes to the back and gets Aviator jerkstore.  They leave the plane.  Aisle Guy comes back, Aviator jerkstore doesn’t.  Hooray!   Justice and common sense prevail!  And we take off…


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