Why don’t people steal zip cars?

Because:

The Zipcar system knows when a given car was reserved and by which member. When that time comes, the member can hold his Zipcard up to the windshield, and a dashboard-mounted card reader automatically unlocks both the door and the engine. Zipcar’s proprietary systems are so deeply embedded in its fleet that burglars couldn’t steal the car even if they broke in and cracked the steering column.

Bang! Bang! BANGS!

Bangs (known in most other parts of the English speaking world as “fringe”) – I’m pretty sure it’s safe to say that at one point or another – we’ve ALL had them. They keep coming and going as a desirable and acceptable hairstyle. My roommate recently got bangs cut across her forehead, which prompted me to review the history of bangs. Seeing as wikipedia had no concise history of their presence, I’m making my own.

The Ancient Egyptians, along with like, miraculously building the pyramids, created the hairstyle where the front part of the hair frames the forehead. I will venture the guess that they also created the headband.

Check the hair on Julius Caeser … I present the man bang:

And the incredible bang of the Romans:

Renassance period – the bang was way out:

The Elizabethan bang tuck:

The 18th century wig bang (can also be found on several of the US’s founding fathers). NOTE: the fully-exposed-forehead-curled-bang:

The awful Victorian parted bang:

1920-30s bangs. Most prefer the long bang or the grown-out-bang-bob:

The Betty Page bang:

The Farrah-flip of the 70s:

The art-deco bang of the 80s:

And the amazing man-swoop of the 80s:

Rachel’s long-layered bang pretty much sums of the style of the 1990s:

And, finally, what is most-popular today (Betty Page? 1920s Bob? You decide.):

Make your own conclusions about the cycle of the bang thru the ages.

Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters

Courtney Martin, one of the Feministing girls, recently wrote a book, Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters. She was in Berkeley in June (totally bummed I missed it) and I recently caught this clip of her reading an excerpt from her book:

I’ve been totally self-obsessed lately, critiquing every part of myself: and the way the world sees me, the way I see myself, basically, who I am. (I’m told this is relatively normal at my age?!) Parts of what she read are along the lines of what I’ve been thinking lately. I have a full planner and an axiety disorder - I’m judgemental about myself and forgiving of others – I must get As - I must make money – I must make it look effortless - I get homesick – I am annoyed with this part of myself – I cry when I have serious conversations with my friends – I can never show enough humility – I got passed over for a job – Have I dropped out of the race? – I want a hug – I want to change the world – I want to sleep away the days – I would like to believe I love to be busy – I have no faith – I wish I could believe in a God.

I’m sure if I’m just being melodramatic … bits of this probably hit home with most everyone. It’s interesting, none the less. I would like to hear other’s thoughts!

how does this shiz work?

Grab a calculator.
1. Key in the first three digits of your phone number (NOT the Area code)
2. Multiply by 80
3. Add 1
4. Multiply by 250
5. Add the last 4 digits of your phone number
6. Add the last 4 digits of your phone number again.
7. Subtract 250
8. Divide number by 2

             Do you recognize the answer ??

feministing

I read feministing about five times a week. In fact, it was that blog that got me into the whole “blogosphere,” and the idea that I could possibly have something to say.

While I think that the girls over at feministing raise important issues, like court cases about women’s reproductive rights and rape crises and diversity/race issues and how high-heels are bad for posture, the more I read the bloggers over there, the more I’m, well, kind of disgusted.

You see, feminism is all fine and dandy… but, this new-age-making-feminism-hip stuff is kind of weird. I mean the logo for feministing is this:

And the bloggers over at feministing author books with covers like this:

I suppose I get the message. They’re trying to make women’s issues accessible and applicable to younger generations of women and girls. But, aren’t they just playing into the gentrification of women? I mean the cover of Full Frontal Feminism is a naked, skinny, white woman. Hm?

linksies…

go here. comment and let’s talk.

homo… homosocial.

Growing into an adult at a women’s college is a unique experience. I arrived at one of the top women’s colleges on the West coast three years ago and have seen my social circles change dramatically. Throughout my experiences, I have had friends of all different genders, and have enjoyed being challenged by the different perspectives gender inevitably brings to the table. However, now my friends are all biological and self-identified females. In fact, I can go days without even interacting with an XY. What’s more is that I don’t mind. I identify as heterosexual – and yet, it doesn’t bother me that I interact with boys only at college parties and on summer break.

Last summer, Oprah Winfrey’s magazine, O ran an interview about Oprah’s relationship with her best friend, Gayle. For months rumors had been swirling in the media that the two friends were actually lovers. Oprah combated the frenzy by explaining, “I understand why people think we’re gay. There isn’t a definition in our culture for this kind of bond between women. So I get why people have to label it—how can you be this close without it being sexual? How else can you explain a level of intimacy where someone always loves you, always respects you, admires you? Wants the best for you in every single situation of your life. Lifts you up. Supports you. Always! That’s an incredibly rare thing between even the closest of friends.” 

Having the bonds that I do with my close girls-that-are-friends (not to be mistaken with “girlfriends,” which you can’t say in today’s world, unless you are actually referring to your romantic partner) I could relate to Oprah’s sentiment. When given the option of dating – entering that fiercely competitive, overly-emotional and just plain boring environment – and hanging out with my network of women, I always choose the latter.

 

Does my lifestyle make me gay? Is it really that strange? Someone once told me that I lead a very homosexual lifestyle. I thought for moment and could only disagree. I’m not afraid to be called gay – in fact, given my circle of friends, people generally assume that I am a lesbian. I never really feel the need to correct their assumptions, because usually my sexuality is none of their concern. But the expectation that I’m homosexual just because I hang out with girls is kind of astonishing. I argued that no, I do not lead a homosexual life – none of my interactions with my girlfriends are ever sexual. I offered that my life is probably homosocial.

church.

I find myself at church a few times a year. ALL of my family is Catholic (to varying degrees) so trips home often entail Saturday evening mass. I’ve been baptized, had my first communion and reconciliation. I’ve been confirmed (holler Joan of Arc).

Ok- all of that’s boring. What I’m trying to say is that, I grew up Catholic, attending weekly one-hour masses and going to CCD (Sunday school). What I realized this past Saturday, during a 3 hour (!) Easter Vigil, is that I have no clue how to pray.

 

Here’s how my ritual goes:

1. Once I have successfully found my place in the wooden pew, surrounded by people too close for comfort – I pull out the little stool and kneel.
2. I look around at people, who bury their faces in their palms and wonder what they are praying about. Do they address God in their prayer? Who/What do they pray for? Do they pray for same thing every week? If not, how do they remember what they’ve committed to pray for throughout the week?
3. I fold my hands.
4. I get side-tracked by my cuticles and finger-nails.
5. I start picking at them.
6. Then I say (names will be abbreviated using the first letter of the name), “Dear God, I would like to pray for my Mom, Dad, C., M., Jeb (dog), Chloe (other dog), Junior (bird).”
7. Then I feel bad for not praying for people outside my immediate family, and feel that if something bad happens to them, it will be my fault for not praying for them. So, “I would also like to pray for N., D., T., L., V., J., D., R., G., P., J., D., E., W., K., L., M., T., L., B., M., R., T., S.”
8. Then I notice the pile of discarded finger-nail clippings that have accumulated in the pew in front of me. Gross.
9. All the while, I’m not even sure what “praying for” means… so that gets me mad.
10. Then come the friends, “L., E., T., J., S., T., J., M., K., R., K., M., H., T., N., B., S., S.”
11. I realize this is taking a lot of time/energy to remember all these people, and I’m not even sure what the point is.
12. More family, I had forgot about earlier: “M., S., J., B., R., D., B., P., M., M., K., M., D., S.”
13. I get distracted by the pain-in-the-ass kid sitting in front of me who is putting her arm up her Mom’s shirt sleeve and snapping her bra.
14. I pray for myself… that I get through school alright and pass all my exams.
15. Then I hope I haven’t jinxed myself for praying for it. Then I think that God knows this is important to me, so he’s just going to make it so that I fail so that I learn my lesson and worship him more.                                                                        
16. Then I get pissed. Really pissed. “Ain’t no one have control over my grades but me, God. Just lay off.”
17. Then I give up, and heatedly slump back to a seated position in the pew. I spend the rest of the mass mad that I’m even there.
18. But, I make sure God knows I was for real when I prayed for people, just in case.

Obviously, I have greater problems than just not being able to pray. But, I refuse to believe that I am the only person who finds herself in this situation at church. I would like to learn how to pray… not just for churching, but for meditation, or for addressing that larger idea I know is out there (God? Spirit? Force?). Thanks for reading this… I’m sure it was difficult.

one of my many questions… answered.

I have a million and two questions everyday.

Today, after studying the striped cat that lives with me for about an hour (I am spent), I wondered how cats clean their heads.

When my room mate informed me that they lick their paw and then rub their heads with it, I wondered if they had control over the amount of the saliva they produce. Because I have petted (is that the past tense of pet?) the cat as he was cleaning his back, and it is dry… he produces no saliva. And if he is just rubbing his head with a dry paw… what is that doing?

 

It’s not cleaning it. And, I mean, the cat’s head doesn’t stink or anything. So, how does this whole thing work?

I have also been wondering if cats have a race. I know it is bad to racialize the cat, but I can’t help myself… I think about it, and I’m not going to deny it. I also contemplated if all of a sudden the girl cat that I live with was actually a boy. How would I have to adjust my identification of her?

 I won’t even get into all of the questions I have about dogs. I will say, I was excited to see this story and learn (finally!) why some dogs are smaller than others.