To whomever was searching for
"little girls in swimsuits beauty pageant pictures"
and found my blog, I apologize.
You will not find any pictures of little girls in swimsuits. Ever. At all. Not even once.
*hoping and praying that this searcher is just some pageant mom looking for ideas for her pageant daughter's competition swimwear, and not some dirty perv*
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Trying hard not to be bitter.
My officemate is pregnant. About 2 months along. And really, truly, deep down I am genuinely happy for her. She and her husband had a miscarriage 8 years ago, and they've been trying/not preventing ever since. So they really are over the moon. And I'm so glad for them. They'll make wonderful parents.
But it's also been non-stop pregnancy/baby talk since she found out. And even though it's exciting and fun, and I get to remember when Bean was little, it's kind of hard.
We've pretty much decided that we're getting to the point where we probably won't have any more kids. Hubs is 7 years older than I am, and he has said that he doesn't want to be 55 when the youngest graduates high school. So our window of opportunity is getting smaller and smaller. We want to get into a home of our own right now, too, and that's expensive enough. Nevermind factoring in prenatal visits, hospital fees, pediatrician copays, diapers, clothes, baby furniture. Not possible.
Because we're not having any more kids, I will not ever know what it's like to have anyone be excited about my pregnancy. Hell, I won't even know what it's like for me to be excited. I won't ever know what it's like to have an excited husband present at an ultrasound. I won't know what it's like to have the birth of my baby celebrated without the underlying feeling of anxiety, apprehension and disappointment. As supportive as my family was, no one was exactly happy that my barely-graduated self had a newborn of my own.
I just feel cheated, and that it's my fault for doing things so ass backwards in life. I'm trying really hard not to feel that way and to just let the happy, excited feelings take over. But I just wish I could know what all of that feels like.
No more baby talk, I swear I'm done now.
But it's also been non-stop pregnancy/baby talk since she found out. And even though it's exciting and fun, and I get to remember when Bean was little, it's kind of hard.
We've pretty much decided that we're getting to the point where we probably won't have any more kids. Hubs is 7 years older than I am, and he has said that he doesn't want to be 55 when the youngest graduates high school. So our window of opportunity is getting smaller and smaller. We want to get into a home of our own right now, too, and that's expensive enough. Nevermind factoring in prenatal visits, hospital fees, pediatrician copays, diapers, clothes, baby furniture. Not possible.
Because we're not having any more kids, I will not ever know what it's like to have anyone be excited about my pregnancy. Hell, I won't even know what it's like for me to be excited. I won't ever know what it's like to have an excited husband present at an ultrasound. I won't know what it's like to have the birth of my baby celebrated without the underlying feeling of anxiety, apprehension and disappointment. As supportive as my family was, no one was exactly happy that my barely-graduated self had a newborn of my own.
I just feel cheated, and that it's my fault for doing things so ass backwards in life. I'm trying really hard not to feel that way and to just let the happy, excited feelings take over. But I just wish I could know what all of that feels like.
No more baby talk, I swear I'm done now.
Monday, February 25, 2008
When you don't fit.
I have always kind of felt like I don't fit in one way or another. I've always felt kind of awkward and out of place. I still do, sometimes.
Lately, it's been overwhelming, and I've all but shut myself off completely from anyone not related to me. I don't get together with my Quinn's friends, didn't go to the holiday party, I put my headphones in during my day job and just tune everyone out.
I think a lot of it has to do with mothering. When my daughter was small, none of my friends had kids. And they didn't want to hang out anymore, really, because I was suddenly in another class. I didn't belong. And we lacked things in common. And the women I would run into who did have little ones my age were usually older, and they didn't really want much to do with having a teenage mother as a friend.
Now that my daughter is older, and I'm pretty sure I'm done having babies (yes, I realize I only have one child), all of my friends are having babies. Or they have very young children. And I feel... irrelevant. Not that I don't matter to them. But when I give advice or talk about my experiences (to try and find a common topic), I wonder if they think, "Well, that was AGES ago. It's hardly relevant now."
And I still don't feel like I fit with my childless friends because even though my daughter is older, I'm not childless. We have completely different life paths, and I feel so out of touch.
I feel like my friends are becoming members to a club that I was kicked out of when my Bean started kindergarten.
Lately, it's been overwhelming, and I've all but shut myself off completely from anyone not related to me. I don't get together with my Quinn's friends, didn't go to the holiday party, I put my headphones in during my day job and just tune everyone out.
I think a lot of it has to do with mothering. When my daughter was small, none of my friends had kids. And they didn't want to hang out anymore, really, because I was suddenly in another class. I didn't belong. And we lacked things in common. And the women I would run into who did have little ones my age were usually older, and they didn't really want much to do with having a teenage mother as a friend.
Now that my daughter is older, and I'm pretty sure I'm done having babies (yes, I realize I only have one child), all of my friends are having babies. Or they have very young children. And I feel... irrelevant. Not that I don't matter to them. But when I give advice or talk about my experiences (to try and find a common topic), I wonder if they think, "Well, that was AGES ago. It's hardly relevant now."
And I still don't feel like I fit with my childless friends because even though my daughter is older, I'm not childless. We have completely different life paths, and I feel so out of touch.
I feel like my friends are becoming members to a club that I was kicked out of when my Bean started kindergarten.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Vegan strip club
Oy.
There is now a vegan strip club in Portland, OR. It's supposed to be the first ever. All of the alcohol and food is vegan, and I guess a lot of the "dancers" are also vegetarian or vegan.
I haven't blogged about this since I didn't really have an opinion about it until recently. I found a YouTube video from a Portland show Good Day Oregon in which a reporter went to the club and reviewed the club's owner, Johnny Diablo.
And now I'm pissed (not work-safe).
So... the girls are meat? "The only meat we have is up on the stage." "We put the meat on the pole, not on the plate." Okay, I fucking get it. I get the pun, I really do. But something tells me that this guy lost a lot of vegan support in the community.
For someone who has dedicated over 20 years to reducing the suffering and exploitation of non-human animals, he sure doesn't seem to mind exploiting and objectifying the human ones. (I'm sure there will be comments about being a feminazi, wah, wah, waaaaah!) I really don't care have a problem with strip clubs. But I have a huge problem with, essentially, the idea that staring at naked women who are paid to dance is some sort of "replacement" for meat. Like that's what these women are. Meat for men to savor.
Well fuck.that.
Also, did anyone else notice? The one time one of the "dancers" did actually speak in this interview, her face wasn't shown. Hm.
I'm going to go scream into a pillow now.
There is now a vegan strip club in Portland, OR. It's supposed to be the first ever. All of the alcohol and food is vegan, and I guess a lot of the "dancers" are also vegetarian or vegan.
I haven't blogged about this since I didn't really have an opinion about it until recently. I found a YouTube video from a Portland show Good Day Oregon in which a reporter went to the club and reviewed the club's owner, Johnny Diablo.
And now I'm pissed (not work-safe).
So... the girls are meat? "The only meat we have is up on the stage." "We put the meat on the pole, not on the plate." Okay, I fucking get it. I get the pun, I really do. But something tells me that this guy lost a lot of vegan support in the community.
For someone who has dedicated over 20 years to reducing the suffering and exploitation of non-human animals, he sure doesn't seem to mind exploiting and objectifying the human ones. (I'm sure there will be comments about being a feminazi, wah, wah, waaaaah!) I really don't care have a problem with strip clubs. But I have a huge problem with, essentially, the idea that staring at naked women who are paid to dance is some sort of "replacement" for meat. Like that's what these women are. Meat for men to savor.
Well fuck.that.
Also, did anyone else notice? The one time one of the "dancers" did actually speak in this interview, her face wasn't shown. Hm.
I'm going to go scream into a pillow now.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
It's the lyrics, man.
I can be kind of a music snob. Not like my brother. Also, if you've ever seen me dance in my underwear with a hairbrush microphone, singing along to Journey's "Don't Stop Believing", you'll probably just have to take my word for it. I can be kind of a music snob.
I don't always necessarily listen to the most obscure stuff that would win me major street cred with my aforementioned music snob brother (I love you, Ian, promise!). But the lyrics, man. I love being able to pick up new little nuances or find new metaphores and symbolism the more I listen to a song.
Lyrics are sexy. Good lyrics, anyway. And that's probably why I don't develop middle school crushes on movie stars and why I DO develop middle school crushes on musicians like Colin Meloy, Mike Doughty, Paul Banks, or Mark Lanegan.
I put some videos below from Mike Doughty. An amazing, phenomenal musician and lyricist. Phenomenal, really, I promise. And since I was telling the lovely Badgergirl (http://www.velocibadgergirl.blogspot.com) that she might like Mr. Doughty, I picked out a few of my favorites.
Rising Sign
Unsingable Name
40 Grand in the Hole
White Lexus
I don't always necessarily listen to the most obscure stuff that would win me major street cred with my aforementioned music snob brother (I love you, Ian, promise!). But the lyrics, man. I love being able to pick up new little nuances or find new metaphores and symbolism the more I listen to a song.
Lyrics are sexy. Good lyrics, anyway. And that's probably why I don't develop middle school crushes on movie stars and why I DO develop middle school crushes on musicians like Colin Meloy, Mike Doughty, Paul Banks, or Mark Lanegan.
I put some videos below from Mike Doughty. An amazing, phenomenal musician and lyricist. Phenomenal, really, I promise. And since I was telling the lovely Badgergirl (http://www.velocibadgergirl.blogspot.com) that she might like Mr. Doughty, I picked out a few of my favorites.
Rising Sign
Unsingable Name
40 Grand in the Hole
White Lexus
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
