Archive for the 'Dipshittery' Category

I guess this is how you know

Published at May 4, 2011 in Cali, Life with pets and Dipshittery. 1 Comment

I got an eviction notice yesterday.  I’m not entirely sure why, since my landlord hasn’t called me back. But I suspect it’s because the neighbors complain every time Junebug farts.   And every time that the dog next door barks, which is somehow my fault.

I spent the month of January and part of February leaving a voice-activated digital recorder running in the apartment when I was gone.  With only one or two exceptions, the length of the recordings were between 8 and 16 minutes.  Over the course of 9-12 hours.  Which also included me and my dogwalker announcing the time, traffic noise, leaf blowers and lawn mowers, and the cat meowing.

The property managers met with me, met with my neighbors, reviewed the materials I gave them (a month’s worth of recordings plus a huge memo) and told me everything was fine.  That was the last I’d heard from them until now.

It’s now official:  I hate this place.  I can’t leave for at least another year, but I hate this place.

UPDATE: I just got off the phone with the property manager, who of course won’t tell me much because they want me to come in.  But I highly suspect that he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.  Why?  Because he denied that he served me with an eviction notice, then when I said it damn well was an eviction notice BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT IT SAYS RIGHT ON THE DOCUMENT, THAT YOU’RE TERMINATING MY LEASE IN 60 DAYS, he sort of cavalierly dismissed it as “just procedure” and “I don’t know why it was done.”  This is of course after an entire fucking day in which he didn’t bother returning any of my increasingly frantic phone calls asking why I was being evicted.

As I suspected,  it’s about the dog.  Why he has to send me an eviction notice to get my attention instead of, oh, PICKING UP THE PHONE AND CALLING ME I’m not quite sure.

But I’ve decided I’m going to take them at their word.  They want to send me a termination notice?  Fine.  My lease will terminate within 60 days and I will be moving out by the end of June.   They can pay for the movers.

And I still hate this place.

In which my eyes roll out of my head

Published at May 1, 2011 in Dipshittery. 6 Comments

You know, not everything is “triggering.”   If you’re so sensitive that you find disagreement triggering, you should probably stay off the fucking internet.  Because while it behooves us to avoid some of the major triggers, like violent language, rape imagery, abuse, etc., if your triggers are idiosyncratic and esoteric, you should maybe take it upon yourself to avoid putting yourself in situations where they might be tripped.

Also? I hate to say it, but maybe Kos had a point about the “sanctimonious women’s studies set.”  It appears that the strawfeminist may be real.

Oh, mercy! It gets better!

Published at September 13, 2010 in I will die alone eaten by my pets, Terrorists ruin all my fun, New York Fugging City, Anxious masculinity and Dipshittery. 3 Comments

Continuing the saga from OK Cupid:  I responded.  Yeah, probably shouldn’t have, but the Wingnut Christmas thing really pushes my buttons.  So here’s what I wrote to him:

Well, now I’ve seen it all. 9/11 as a pickup line. Though you’re not the first member of the Giuliani administration to be macking on the bodies of the dead.

Even if I didn’t find that offensive, your spam approach, not to mention your association with that authoritarian asshat Giuliani, would have killed any chance you and your blank profile would have with me.

I see some grammar issues.  Probably should be “macking over” instead of “macking on” (as “macking on” implies necrophilia) and “would have had.”  Nonetheless.  His response [misspellings his own]:

You know, I often wonder if framing my relationship with a political figure would be a mixed blessing, or for that matter, wise. The land in which I come from, obviously not liberal-land as do you, character means a great deal. I’m proud of my association with Mayor Giuliani and proud of my character and the way I have conducted myself thoughout my life and with others. Obviously, these virtues are meaningless to you. So be it.

I dont know what rock you have crawed out from under in answering my reply to your profile the way you have, but most assuredly it is to my benefit. A good dinner and better glass of wine would have been otherwise wasted during a dreadful encounter that potentially we would have had.

Oh, and one more thing, when you have engrained in your mind the experience of having pulled parts of people out from under debris and rubble, yeah, you have a right to talk about it all you like…

Because shut up, that’s why!

I suppose “I was there on 9/11″ as a pickup line was inevitable.

Published at September 13, 2010 in I will die alone eaten by my pets, Anxious masculinity and Dipshittery. 5 Comments

I just got this email from someone at OK Cupid [redacted for privacy, emphasis mine]:

My name is P[], I’m 45 and an attorney from New York City. I was browsing the profiles and came upon yours and thought your photos were just incredible. I’d love to learn about your personality.

As you can see, I do not place much info about myself online. I do Love to travel within the States- especially the great south west, am into fine dining, good wines, producing (TV documentary) entertainment and charitable events. - I worked for Rudy Giuliani for 14 years, 8 of which as a NYC Agency Bureau Director while he was Mayor of New York. I was with him on 9-11.

If you’re interested in saying hello or are curious about what I’m like, let me know and I’ll get back in touch with you.

I’m [] on AOL and MSN instant messenger & []on yahoo. com for email and Instant Messages.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Oh, let’s count the ways this message offends me, shall we?

First, it’s clearly spam from someone who hasn’t actually read my profile.  He opens with a generic “loved your photos,” and that’s as far as we get in terms of showing me that he’s interested in meeting me.  The rest of it — odd capitalization, random punctuation, and all — is all about him.  Mind, you should let the person you’re trying to pick up know what’s in it for them, but you also want to make sure they know that you’re interested in them, and why.

Second, his “I do not place much info about myself online” is rather an understatement — his profile is blank except for a few pictures, his age and hometown (listed as Boca Raton).  FFS, man, put up a little breezy twaddle.

Finally:  HE’S USING RUDY GIULIANI AND 9/11 TO PICK UP CHICKS.

Fat and Health: A Response

Published at September 6, 2010 in Health, I see fat people and Dipshittery. 17 Comments

I swear on a stack of pancakes that I didn’t read Atheling’s piece before I wrote this.

    First Things First:  What’s It To You?

I’ve been living in New York a long time (and am reluctantly about to leave it).  One of the most useful sayings I’ve picked up here is, “What’s it to you?” *

That handy phrase pretty summed up my first reaction to reading Monica’s post about fat and health.  Why, if she doesn’t experience any kind of weight-based discrimination at the doctor or elsewhere, does she get invested in defending the BMI against feminist criticism?

And then I got to the donuts, and all became clear.  Monica appears to have fallen into the trap of conflating weight and health, and attributing moral laxity to the overweight — who of course couldn’t have gotten that way had they just eased off the donuts.  Donuts being the go-to shorthand for the moral failings of fat people.  Oh, sometimes it’s pie, occasionally it’s cake, but it’s usually donuts, those tasty little rings of deep-fried sloth.

While I don’t relish having to address such misconceptions again, it’s worth doing the pushback.  However, I don’t want to do a point-by-point fisking of Monica’s piece, partly because comments are closed and I missed the window when they were open.  Partly because it’s somewhat jumbled, and there were some points raised in comments that throw a different light on the original post. Also?  The commenters did a pretty damn good job of refuting particular points.  I also don’t want to make this about Monica.

Instead, I want to talk a bit about fat and health and why fat hatred is a feminist issue.

Continue reading ‘Fat and Health: A Response’

Herding cats; or, why Zuzu hates group projects

Published at September 13, 2009 in Library stuff, Edumacation and Dipshittery. 2 Comments

Library school is very big on the presentations and the group projects. I understand why; after all, during an interview for a position as a librarian (especially in the academic context), you will be expected to do a presentation for about an hour (including Q&A) to show that a) you can successfully research something and b) you can convey the results of your research, which is something you’ll be expected to do frequently on the job.

The value of group projects I’m less sure about. Sure, you can show that you work well with others, but I’m going to guess that most of the time, when you have a group project on the job, it will involve someone assigning work to various people, who will then have clear goals.

The group project I’m currently working on isn’t quite like that. We have 10 people — the entire class — working on the same project. We will all get the same grade. We’ve had to decide how to split things up ourselves, and nobody’s in charge (though, thankfully, someone has taken the reins by setting up the wiki and doing the kind of administrative stuff that will shape the project).

These things *can* work, if you have clear areas of responsibility so that one person isn’t stuck doing all the work and everyone else free-rides. Or if you don’t have any problem children who don’t work well with others.

We’ve already had a problem child emerge. Continue reading ‘Herding cats; or, why Zuzu hates group projects’

This week in fat hatred

Published at August 14, 2009 in Health, Food, I see fat people, Woman-Hating and Dipshittery. 4 Comments

Item the first: Anti-donut signs can get you fired from your job as a county health director, but only if you name and piss off local businesses:

A 38-year-old former Army doctor who served in Iraq, Newsom returned home to Panama City a few years ago to run the Bay County Health Department and launched a one-man war on obesity by posting sardonic warnings on an electronic sign outside:

“Sweet Tea (equals) Liquid Sugar.”

“Hamburger (equals) Spare Tire.”

“French Fries (equals) Thunder Thighs.”

He also called out KFC by name to make people think twice about fried chicken.

Then he parodied “America Runs on Dunkin’,” the doughnut chain’s slogan, with: “America Dies on Dunkin’.”

Some power players in the Gulf Coast tourist town decided they had had their fill.

A county commissioner who owns a doughnut shop and two lawyers who own a new Dunkin’ Donuts on Panama City Beach turned against him, along with some of his own employees, Newsom says. After the lawyers threatened to sue, his bosses at the Florida Health Department made him remove the anti-fried dough rants and eventually forced him to resign, he says. . . .

In May, lawyers Bo Rivard and Michael Duncan, co-owners of a new Dunkin’ Donuts, asked Newsom to take down the “America Dies on Dunkin’” message. Newsom already had run other anti-doughnut warnings, including “Doughnuts (equals) Diabetes,” and “Dunkin’ Donuts (equals) Death.”

The businessmen had the backing of County Commissioner Mike Thomas, who owns a diner and a doughnut shop. Thomas called for Newsom’s ouster, saying the doctor shouldn’t have named businesses on the message board.

Note the two statements I’ve bolded. If that’s not conflation of health and thinness/aesthetics, I don’t know what is. But what I find a little disturbing is that his bosses were okay with this kind of hatefulness being funded by the taxpayers until the businesses he called out by name lawyered up.

Continue reading ‘This week in fat hatred’

A train of thought about public health brought on by a glimpse of ironic facial hair

Published at May 14, 2009 in Health, Misbegotten health care, Political theater and Dipshittery. 4 Comments

My mind goes to some odd places sometimes.  And today, the sight of a hipster with ironic facial hair on the subway (and of course he got off in Williamsburg) led to some thoughts about public health.  The sight of ironic facial hair led to thoughts about such facial hair worn non-ironically, which led to thoughts about men who wore such non-ironic facial hair, which led to thoughts of C. Everett Koop and his Gorton’s Fisherman beard and naval-looking uniform, which led to thoughts of the whole debacle of Obama nominating Sanjay Gupta as Surgeon General, which led to the realization that it’s been over two months since Gupta withdrew his name, we’re in the middle of a public-health crisis, and . . . we have no Surgeon General.

And Obama hasn’t even floated any names to replace Gupta, as far as I can tell.  This isn’t like not having anyone helming HHS at the start of the swine flu; the problem there was that Kathleen Sebelius’s nomination wasn’t being acted upon because the shit-for-brains forced-birth contingent decided to demagogue.  At least there was a nominee.

But as important as it is to have a Secretary of HHS in place, it’s the Surgeon General who leads the Public Health Service, and pandemics and epidemics are under the aegis of the Public Health Service.  We’re in the middle of the beginning of a possible pandemic, and Obama doesn’t even have a backup after his completely ill-suited first nominee withdrew?

Oh. Boo. Hoo.

Published at March 12, 2009 in Female trouble, Sex miseducation, Anxious masculinity, Woman-Hating and Dipshittery. 7 Comments

How little sympathy do I have for Travis Henry?

Travis Henry was rattling off his children’s ages, which range from 3 to 11. He paused and took a breath before finishing.

This was no simple task. Henry, 30, a former N.F.L. running back who played for three teams from 2001 to 2007, has nine children — each by a different mother, some born as closely as a few months apart.

Reports of Henry’s prolific procreating, generated by child-support disputes, have highlighted how futile the N.F.L.’s attempts can be at educating its players about making wise choices. The disputes have even eclipsed the attention he received after he was indicted on charges of cocaine trafficking.

“They’ve got my blood; I’ve got to deal with it,” Henry said of fiscal responsibilities to his children. He spoke by telephone from his Denver residence, where he was under house arrest until recently for the drug matter.

Henry had just returned from Atlanta, where a judge showed little sympathy for his predicament during a hearing and declined to lower monthly payments from $3,000 for a 4-year-old son.

Three days after the telephone interview, he was jailed for falling $16,600 behind on support for a youngster in Frostproof, Fla., his hometown.

“I love all my kids,” he said in the interview, but asserted he could not afford the designated amounts, estimated at $170,000 a year by Randy Kessler, his Atlanta lawyer. Kessler said Henry was virtually broke.

$170,000 a year works out to $18,888.88 on average per child.  Obviously, some are getting more, such as the 4-year-old in Atlanta, but it works out to an average of $1574 per month per child.  Which is neither a huge burden for a pro football player with a $20 million contract *nor* a huge amount of money relative to what it costs to clothe, feed, educate, shelter, entertain and transport a child.  His cocaine habit probably cost more per month.

Actually, he got cut loose from the team because of injuries and the cocaine thing.  So he’s only been paid $6.7 million.  Are those tiny violins I hear? Continue reading ‘Oh. Boo. Hoo.’

David Brooks soils himself in fear over Michelle Obama’s biceps

Published at March 8, 2009 in Political theater, Anxious masculinity, Woman-Hating and Dipshittery. 5 Comments

Let’s ignore for the moment all the other dreck in this typically specious MoDo column. Let’s focus on the glimpse she gives us into the psyche of David Brooks:

Let’s face it: The only bracing symbol of American strength right now is the image of Michelle Obama’s sculpted biceps. Her husband urges bold action, but it is Michelle who looks as though she could easily wind up and punch out Rush Limbaugh, Bernie Madoff and all the corporate creeps who ripped off America.

In the taxi, when I asked David Brooks about her amazing arms, he indicated it was time for her to cover up. “She’s made her point,” he said. “Now she should put away Thunder and Lightning.”

I’d seen the plaint echoed elsewhere. “Someone should tell Michelle to mix up her wardrobe and cover up from time to time,” Sandra McElwaine wrote last week on The Daily Beast.

Washington is a place where people have always been suspect of style and overt sexuality. Too much preening signals that you’re not up late studying cap-and-trade agreements.

David was not smitten by the V-neck, sleeveless eggplant dress Michelle wore at her husband’s address to Congress — the one that caused one Republican congressman to whisper to another, “Babe.”

He said the policy crowd here would consider the dress ostentatious. “Washington is sensually avoidant. The wonks here like brains. She should not be known for her physical presence, for one body part.” David brought up the Obamas’ obsession with their workouts. “Sometimes I think half the reason Obama ran for president is so Michelle would have a platform to show off her biceps.”

Oh. My. Continue reading ‘David Brooks soils himself in fear over Michelle Obama’s biceps’