Brakes and drama

Glory effing hallelujah, I have brakes that work again. opaljax came over with tools, and we did stand out in the bitter cold for far longer than one would think, and now I have nice new ceramic pads, and opaljax has a nice bottle of polish vodka, and all is right with the world.

There's behind-the-scenes drama, though, there always is. Mom called yesterday while I was on the way to the auto parts store, and I foolishly divulged that the car was in need of repair, and that I and a friend were going to do said repairs. Mom was wary of this, but willing to allow it to pass. However, Grandma was not. Some time while Jax and I were actually working on the problem last night, Grandma called and left a plaintive message expressing that she would send me money to get my brakes fixed, and that under no circumstances should I, or any other person with a vagina, ever work on a car.

I didn't get the voicemail until this morning, so, dutifully, and also stupidly, I called her to say that the job was already done and she didn't need to worry about it. She informed me that even though it might seem like a simple job, there was no way that it actually could be simple, that I probably only thought it was simple because I couldn't understand it, and in any case I would ruin my health doing these things. She then launched into a twenty minute exhortation to the Lord God of the Israelites to make it so I would have to move back to the Family Homestead where I could be properly taken care of. Creeped me right out.

And she'll probably send me the money anyway. I have made a habit of sending donations in the amount of her gifts to organizations like Planned Parenthood, or HRC, or PFLAG, and that sort of thing. That's probably a violation of some sort of hospitality rule, but it makes me feel a lot better.

Brakes and drama

Glory effing hallelujah, I have brakes that work again. opaljax came over with tools, and we did stand out in the bitter cold for far longer than one would think, and now I have nice new ceramic pads, and opaljax has a nice bottle of polish vodka, and all is right with the world.

There's behind-the-scenes drama, though, there always is. Mom called yesterday while I was on the way to the auto parts store, and I foolishly divulged that the car was in need of repair, and that I and a friend were going to do said repairs. Mom was wary of this, but willing to allow it to pass. However, Grandma was not. Some time while Jax and I were actually working on the problem last night, Grandma called and left a plaintive message expressing that she would send me money to get my brakes fixed, and that under no circumstances should I, or any other person with a vagina, ever work on a car.

I didn't get the voicemail until this morning, so, dutifully, and also stupidly, I called her to say that the job was already done and she didn't need to worry about it. She informed me that even though it might seem like a simple job, there was no way that it actually could be simple, that I probably only thought it was simple because I couldn't understand it, and in any case I would ruin my health doing these things. She then launched into a twenty minute exhortation to the Lord God of the Israelites to make it so I would have to move back to the Family Homestead where I could be properly taken care of. Creeped me right out.

And she'll probably send me the money anyway. I have made a habit of sending donations in the amount of her gifts to organizations like Planned Parenthood, or HRC, or PFLAG, and that sort of thing. That's probably a violation of some sort of hospitality rule, but it makes me feel a lot better.

And another thing (or three)

This week has been a bang-up week for my practice of Competence. I expanded my skill set with the whole brakes thing, I learned a couple of new tricks for upkeep (and eventual modification) of our awful website, and I've gotten enough work done to be able to see the woodgrain of my desk and generally be able to clean up my office. Also, I'm moving the Winter Bazaar stuff along, and I think it will not eat my soul after all.

Sadly, this week is not the week where I was supposed to focus on Competence. It is the week where I am supposed to focus on Creativity. But I will take Competence anywhere I can get it. Not that I haven't been creative, too -- I've been doing graphic design in addition to my usual work here, and making little Christmas ornaments for this tree competition thing we're doing, and I've been working on the jewelry thing quite a bit ("I'm just going to give you all my beads," said opaljax.) So that's all good too.

Also, vaguely related to virtue, we had a goofy meeting with our goofy consultant yesterday. In the middle of some unrelated thing, he said something like "Your character is more important than your actions", or something. And I'm thinking to myself, "That's bullshit! Your character is only available for review via your actions -- everything else is just empty wind. If you don't act on a thing, how is it part of your character?" I worry that I may be becoming a behaviorist in my old age.

Also, completely unrelated to anything, it is generally held to be true in my household that anything that is a)dipped in garlic butter or b)deep-fried is tasty and good. I'm sad to report that this is not true. Long John Silver's down by the office has langostino tails dipped in garlic butter and then batter-fried, and they're .... not good. Not inedible, but not good. I don't know what the world is coming to.

And another thing (or three)

This week has been a bang-up week for my practice of Competence. I expanded my skill set with the whole brakes thing, I learned a couple of new tricks for upkeep (and eventual modification) of our awful website, and I've gotten enough work done to be able to see the woodgrain of my desk and generally be able to clean up my office. Also, I'm moving the Winter Bazaar stuff along, and I think it will not eat my soul after all.

Sadly, this week is not the week where I was supposed to focus on Competence. It is the week where I am supposed to focus on Creativity. But I will take Competence anywhere I can get it. Not that I haven't been creative, too -- I've been doing graphic design in addition to my usual work here, and making little Christmas ornaments for this tree competition thing we're doing, and I've been working on the jewelry thing quite a bit ("I'm just going to give you all my beads," said opaljax.) So that's all good too.

Also, vaguely related to virtue, we had a goofy meeting with our goofy consultant yesterday. In the middle of some unrelated thing, he said something like "Your character is more important than your actions", or something. And I'm thinking to myself, "That's bullshit! Your character is only available for review via your actions -- everything else is just empty wind. If you don't act on a thing, how is it part of your character?" I worry that I may be becoming a behaviorist in my old age.

Also, completely unrelated to anything, it is generally held to be true in my household that anything that is a)dipped in garlic butter or b)deep-fried is tasty and good. I'm sad to report that this is not true. Long John Silver's down by the office has langostino tails dipped in garlic butter and then batter-fried, and they're .... not good. Not inedible, but not good. I don't know what the world is coming to.

Porn!

After reading some pretty intense stuff on the flist about people's pornography addictions and the other associated evils of porn today, I am left with a single stupid question that is completely out of place in the original thread:

Why doesn't anybody ever complain that porn objectifies/degrades/devalues men? (I mean, provided that there are men in the porn. Obviously, lesbian porn doesn't objectify men, but, you know.)

(Also, can you tell it's a slow day? I can.)

Porn!

After reading some pretty intense stuff on the flist about people's pornography addictions and the other associated evils of porn today, I am left with a single stupid question that is completely out of place in the original thread:

Why doesn't anybody ever complain that porn objectifies/degrades/devalues men? (I mean, provided that there are men in the porn. Obviously, lesbian porn doesn't objectify men, but, you know.)

(Also, can you tell it's a slow day? I can.)

I'm in your jurnal, spammin your frendzlist

This cracks me up for no good reason at all. More kittay goodness here.

I'm in your jurnal, spammin your frendzlist

This cracks me up for no good reason at all. More kittay goodness here.