Dr Horrible's Sing Along Blog is pretty awesome.

I got on a kick of dancing to 80s music over a month ago, and now it's like I can't hear anything else.

This morning I was crossing the street coming back from the beach (I'm on vacation in Nags Head with my parents and their 4 dogs), and a dude on a motorcycle drove by playing "Heartbreaker" at full blast. It was a little like walking into Grand Theft Auto: Vice City.

[ETA: Either he or someone else on a scooter just drove past playing "Hit Me with Your Best Shot". Fer. Reals.]

It's not easy being a political hardass sometimes.

Did I tell you about my colleagues' shenanigans with their weight/fat loss pool? It's like a football pool, but they're weighing and fat-measuring themselves. As you can imagine, my initial reaction was OH $DEITY NO GET THAT AWAY FROM ME, and it's morphed into WILL YOU SHUT UP ABOUT IT ALREADY? as time has worn on. They're using the "I'm doing it for myself" argument. Also, the "but I'm a feminist!" argument (which totally makes everything okay, cause it's all about CHOICE, you know). And the "argh my clothes don't fit and I desperately hate shopping" argument. So, okay. That is at least practical. I mean, I don't like losing weight for the same reason. I'm still bitter about the gorgeous party dresses that couldn't be taken in.

It's hard to be uber committed to my point of view on this one, though. I mean. The email they sent introducing this craziness let you vote "yes", "no" or "I find this completely offensive". Many of them are also discovering the magic of the gym, too, so I have people to bond with over that.

So. I find myself surprisingly not bothered by other people's weightloss talk all of a sudden. WTF?!

The California gay marriage photos made me all weepy. Especially the ones of people who look totally ordinary, maybe even a little frumpy or dorky, who got married in unglamorous towns like El Cerrito.

Lovely local peeps, I just had a thought: I love Richmond in the summer time. And you know what would be fun? Doing classic Richmond things all summer!

So, tell me: what are the Really Richmond places you frolic, drink, eat, etc. (or the places you used to do those things, back before you got all aged and cynical)?

I just got lunch from Stuffy's. I remember going there when I was in college, and the one out at Gayton Crossing was one of a few places to eat in miles (back before Tuckahoe was really built up, let alone Short Pump).

That thing with the alfredo pasta craving, I wasn't kidding. So last night I skipped the gym and made the damned sauce from scratch. I've been trying to buy and cook only organic pastured dairy, and I still haven't found an organic cheese/cream sauce I like.

It was really very good pasta. I added a tuna steak and itty bitty baby spring squashes to it after realizing that buying fish on Tuesday night that you don't mean to eat till Thursday is probably a dumb idea. Where I won, though, was this sauce:
One small container of creme fraiche (which gave it a nice nutty tang)
Half of a cup of hemp milk
One small container of grated parmesan
Healthy doses of paprika, salt, pepper & basil
Bits of Spanish goat cheese not yet finished from last week's groceries

Mix. Simmer till all melted. Done.

I had a little for breakfast when I couldn't talk myself into my normal vegan breakfast, and the sauce had basically hardened into a brick of parmesan - a characteristic it shares with my favorite pasta sauce from Chianti (that mom & pop place in Gayton Crossing).

The problem with the gym is that it makes me hungry. Like. Giant sucking void of food-wanting. Persistent hind-brain messages like We need pasta. With alfredo. NOW. This would be fine if I went to the gym at like 5pm, but I keep going at 8 or 9 (after a perfectly sufficient dinner, mind you), and I don't want to be eating again at 10. I do that enough with dance stuff. It keeps me up late. And I don't usually have pasta in the fridge.

So, yeah. That's annoying.

Also annoying is the back-of-my-brain reaction (namely, glee... tempered with front-of-brain horror) to the realization that I'm going to shrink again this summer. I'm taking 3 dance classes in addition to the usual practice schedule (though I expect a light performance schedule), and trying to make it to the gym for 2-4 hours each week. Past experience shows that new activity, especially 5 hours a week of it, will make my body different. Past experience also shows that I may lose my shit when that happens. I hope it will be better if I'm prepared for it, and at least I know now that I'll stabilize size-wise within a year. If I keep feeding the giant sucking void, maybe I'll only shrink at the rate my clothes wear out. I hate wasting perfectly cute clothes.

Other than these persistent annoyances, the gym continues to be a rocking good time. I found a stability ball exercise that hits a lot of what I need to do floor work well, and I had the pleasure of surprising little bitty trainer boy with my core strength. It's so loud and busy at the gym, but what struck me tonight was just how peaceful it is [If you stay away from the people trying to destroy their joints on the elliptical machines. I hope we have universal health care before they get old, cause some of them are just leaping at those machines. They sound like storm troopers.]. Focusing on form and counting repetitions in this strange chaotic setting reminds me of going out to practice tai chi in the middle of the theater building at BillnMary - in some ways the internal quiet is more intense for being hard-won. At home I can create the exact right environment to focus in, but having to work for that focus is - well, it's another dimension of working out, I suppose. I like it.

In other news, I realized this week that I feel called to coaching as a career. It's unclear exactly what form that needs to take, but I'm sure that path is not old-school plan-driven project management. And that narrows the field of my job search. Mostly, though - it excites me, and that's... heh, it's exciting.

I'm starting to look forward to my life again.

I had no idea. Going to the gym? Is RIOTOUSLY FUN.

I've been going once or twice a week for... just under a month, I guess. The classes are greatly entertaining - I've been going to yoga, a yoga-pilates-fusion thing, and one with silly pop music and barbells, and they change routines pretty much every time I go, so it's a tiny little surprise for my whole body. Sometimes my fun friends are there, too! The trainer recommended to me by that dude I gave such a hard time? Is not only not a narrow-minded dumbass but is amusing and fairly insightful for a 12 year old (and has pretty eyes). He's no my-old-coach, but he'll do.

I declare the gym a success. Yay, gym!

In other news: I forgot how in all Jane Austen's books "you're looking fatter" is a total compliment about how you're not miserable and depressed anymore. Yay, 19th century!

Brilliant readers, thank you for the poetry suggestions. I will assemble them before my next library & bookstore trips. Yay!

I have another question for you. Is there a proper expression of detached indifference in IM/email/text/chat emoticons? There's definitely an ambivalent expression - :/ or :\ - but is there one that says "I am not iffy on this subject; I simply do not care" without any air of snark or pissiness?

Just a moment ago, I typed "whatever" meaning "whatever you want, I am untroubled by any possible outcome" but it read "whatever" as in "whatever, loser... talk to the hand". And there was really no appropriate emoticon to back up my text with emotional content.

I am troubled by this. Please assist.

I would like to read more poetry.

What should I read?

There's a cute post on Shapely Prose that uses the 'get a bikini bod in 2.5 minutes' articles in most magazines to talk about getting comfortable in a bathing suit.

Which reminds me of a question I had awhile back!
Poll #1191050
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All

All weather being equal, do you feel most comfortable...

I personally think I look better not-quite-naked, or sometimes in dance costume. Clothes never quite feel designed for the shape of my body.

Guess what I did last night?

No, really. Guess!

You didn't guess "joined a gym", did you? Because if you know me at all, you know of my passionate hate for the gym mindset. The pain = gain. The appearance = health. All the wildly simplified equations and just the general unpleasantness of the places. Ick.

Anyhow. I joined a gym. My trainer has disappeared off the face of the earth, and I need program design help to figure out some of the dance-prep strengthening I want to do. So when arovd suggested that we practice together in her gym's (fantastic slippy-floored, mirrored, nicely lit) space... eh, okay.

The environment is... not as bad as I expected. There was one poster that bothered me enough I. Um. Sorta hid it. It was a small act of subversion. We went to a yogaish workout class that I enjoyed, and the space really is fantastic. The people there were reasonably diverse. The guy who showed me around was remarkably tolerant of my continuous ripping on his profession. We'll see if the trainer recommendation he made pans out.

There are a LOT of treadmills. That? Is creepy.

I hadn't intended to post anything about the whole "Open Source Boob Project" thing that so many of my friendslisters have been talking about cause, honestly, y'all have way stronger opinions on the subject than I do. On both sides. And I don't know - I can imagine a kinder, more utopian form of sexuality where people were simply curious about touching (which is how I read the thing when I first saw it, and how I'd still like to imagine it), but I also realize that people can get way out of hand with the public skeevitude without the aid of a regulated invitation to groping... especially at cons. Which are, oh, by the way, places where women often really really really hope to get away from that physical-appearance-and-sexual-availability-defines-us crap. Alas, geekitude does not guarantee a safe, grunch-free, space. Note the massive "milady, blahblahblahblahblah" comeons at Pennsic, ferinstance. And the Boob Project? It doesn't help that the dude who posted it comes of as King Skeeve in other posts. Or that, you know, they're "boobs" all jeering middleschooler style.

But. Whatever perspective one may have on free-touching passes in public spaces, I think it's safe to say that interpreting participation in such a 'project' as self-victimization and an invitation to sexual assault is RANK BULLSHIT. It isn't the only "don't walk alone at night" style post I've seen on the subject, but it & its comments are by far the worst. There's some nice sexism with a hint of classism and racism in a variety of the other counter-projects, too.

It disturbs me greatly how much wrong shit surfaces when we start to talk about sex and sexism.

We? Are stuck in Hawai'i.

Well, more specifically one of our flights got cancelled, so we had the option of being stuck here over the weekend, or flying back to Dallas, staying in the airport all day, then taking our chances on a flight to Baltimore that may well also be cancelled, renting a car from Baltimore (assuming we actually arrived there) and driving home. So we chose the option that's guaranteed to get us home without stranding us somewhere we don't want to be, even if several days later.

This? Is after my flight from Hilo to Honolulu earlier this week was cancelled because the airline ceased to exist. At least this time we actually got rebooked on a new flight.

I think this is an appropriate moment for this message from AA.

Last week I voted for Clinton. Which I did, honestly, because both she and Obama are decent candidates on many issues I care about, enough that they were essentially even in my mind. And she's female.

And someone turned her likeness into a nutcracker figurine. You know, her thighs crack nuts.
And people who don't like her often do so for the bumbling, inarticulate reason that "she's a cunt".
And every damned person in the country likes to call her by her first name and all the dudes by their last ones.
And because I live in the state of Virginia, and have never even voted in a county where a woman's name was on the ballot.
And because, when talking about her leadership ability, someone invariably brings up that she either does or does not "stand by her man" as they believe she should or shouldn't.
And because Shakesville can list 62 citations of sexist talk about Clinton in the last six months.

I understand not wanting a specific woman to be president because she has political views with which you disagree. But "BECAUSE SHE'S A CUNT"? Seriously? That's just stupid. I worry, given the overt and depressing sexism that people and the media are directing and targeting at Clinton that Obama, when he wins the Democrats' nomination, will face just the same thing - but less overt, cause I just don't see even conservative pundits getting by calling him a "porch monkey" the way they do with calling her a "she devil". Is this country backwards enough that we still can't really handle the concept of a woman (or a black man) in charge?

Some dude called my decision "sexist". Emotional, it may be. But sexism isn't just making choices based on gender, idiot: it's systematic. There are 86 women in the US Congress (out of the 425 total, in case that number isn't at the front of your mind). And 62 ways Clinton is a fulcrum for this country's sexism. Damn straight in an even-to-me contest, I'll pick the candidate who gets excoriated for looking like me.

And she has a fucking last name, okay?

My FTP server is being wicked slow tonight, so I figured I'll make this upload go even slower by doing even more shit with my internets. From chubbyninja.

How many songs total: 3407
How many hours or days of music: 9 days
Most recently played: Aicha - Khaled
Most played: Whatever It Is - Ben Lee
Most recently added: Aide Razbole Se - Pirin Bulgaria

Sort by song title:
First Song: A - Barenaked Ladies
Last Song: 1981 - Adam Arcuragi

Sort by time:
Shortest Song: The Mustard - Buffy Musical (20 sec)
Longest Song: Flying Blind (Speranza fanfic at ~1 hr)

Sort by album:
First album: ABBA
Last album: 1200 Curfews (Indigo Girls)

First song that comes up on Shuffle: Pink Bullets - The Shins
Search the following and state how many songs come up:

Death - 67
Life - 25
Love - 155
Hate – 7
You - 368
Sex – 7

I don't know what it says about me that my first response to this post about some over-the-top gym in Denver's godawful advertising [The ad shows a fat woman talking to her friend about only having beer in the house - cause she can lure men there with it, and if they still reject her, she can drown her sorrows. It's pretty damned offensive, both politically (between actually throwing pies at fatties, the implication of coercive sex, and the stereotype... sheesh) and artistically (more poorly acted and filmed than an infomercial).] is to wish that I had a silkscreener. *

Because I? Now want a t-shirt that says "I have BEER!" even though I'd probably end up punching a LOT of people every time I wore it. [ETA: But you know? I haven't been getting much punching practice in. It could entertain my mind AND my body. Hmm...]

I wonder how many straight guys are convinced they won't sleep with a fat woman? I imagine it's quite a few - I remember from dating websites that almost no guy ever checks the box equivalent to "giant fatty" when they're listing the body types they'll accept in a date. Almost no guy INCLUDING the guys who've hit on me, I might add. It's that same thing with calling yourself fat; for a lot of people, it means something more like "ugly and bad". Those are the same guys who think I weigh 110. I've been thinking about this lately because I'm lonely. And being lonely reminds me that fat is supposed to be something people aren't attracted to, that I am fat, and that people are attracted to me. Three things that don't logically add up. That makes me sad, people. The failure of things to make sense depresses me.

I had a point beyond just saying again that our cultural attitude about fat fucks with people's heads. And the obvious rant that this notion about fat is present in so much asshattery. Gah. I mean, really? The PIE in the face thing? Why does anyone tolerate that way of thinking about themselves? Why would a fat woman be in that ad? Why would ANYONE go to that gym?

* I'm afraid that what this says about me is that chubbyninja has finally rubbed off on me.