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A Rant from the Feminine Abyss

2 Dec

I’m think God gave women periods so that the times that they aren’t miserable, volatile, sour beings they actually seem to be quite lovely.

Or is that just me?

Sometimes I wish guys had to go through something similar.  I really do.  Because I’m sure it seems to some that if you go through something once a month every month for decades, eventually you get over it.  But you don’t.  Maybe other women all over the world do, but I totally don’t.  I don’t get over the feeling of going about my regular business and getting attacked by what feels like little feral mole rats grinding at my innards.  And the stupid commercials that make periods seem like a holiday parade make me want to throw a shoe at the television every time.  Not to mention the fact that we’re more likely to attract sharks.  Sharks.  About one quarter of my life can’t be spent in open waters. That’s serious business.

One time I found a very small hole in my sock while I was walking around the house and was so sad that it took 30 minutes for me to be coaxed out of my deep depression.  

You know what else I find annoying?  The fact that it costs so much to simply endure one week of the month.  Heating pads and drugs and magical cotton wonders of all kinds come at a high cost.  Sure, you can buy generic.  But you’ll regret it.   

Where, exactly, is the inconvenience for guys? There are no boobs to strap up, no heels to don, no cramps to endure… and to make a baby all they have to do have a romp in the hay, while women have to watch their bodies morph into monstrous human incubators – swollen and waddling, waiting for the beast to come forth.  And then when it does, it gets its food from the woman’s body. 

I’m not seeing where the compromise is here.  Can someone direct me to it?

So here’s my proposal.  I’ll endure the once-a-month.  Or the baby-incubating.  Or the baby-feeding.  Or the boob-containing. Or the menopause.  

But can we please just give one of those to the men?  It only seems fair.

Puppies and Sprinkles,

Obviously Menstrual Jackie ♣

Look at these. These hearts and butterflies aren't fooling anyone. I wish packaging could just be more straightforward. Maybe I'll start my own tampon line. "Feel gross? Buy these. You're welcome." Yeah. A snarky tampon company - that sounds like a legacy to leave.

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A Shameless Plug for Blood Donation

1 Dec

I remember the first time I gave blood; it was my freshman year of college and I was quietly waiting for a friend to finish and texting my family on my super awesome TracFone, which cost me .5 units per text.  The blood drive was finishing up and a nurse came out to ask me if I was waiting.  I assured her that there was no way I was going to give blood and that I passed out at the sight of it (a problem for about 2-5% of people).  She said that if I could make it through, I would save three lives.

That’s when the guilt set in.

It was a good guilt.  I needed to feel obligated to do it.  Because sometimes I forget that just because a problem isn’t staring me in the face doesn’t mean it’s not a very serious problem that I can help alleviate.  I continued to give blood when blood-sucking events were being held at my school and struggled each and every time.  When I graduated, there was a sense of relief surrounding how inconvenient it was to donate now that nurses wouldn’t just come to my house and line up with needles.  But then I got a job with a hospital system that has very well-organized donation days in my business unit every single quarter.

That’s once every 3 months that I have to attempt not to completely pass out.

I heard a rumor once that if you pass out while giving blood, they can’t use it.  I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I use it as a sort of endurance test for me.  I can either hang in there and make the pain and awfulness worth it by saving three lives, or I can give up like a little pansy and succumb to the sweating and lightheadedness all for naught.

Today I did really well.  Like, seriously well.  I barely even sweated, and that’s huge for me. 

So here’s the thing: You should donate blood.  Really, you should.  There are lots of perfectly healthy, perfectly lovely people wandering around and not donating blood while there are lots of unhealthy people in hospitals in need.  Blood banks are pressed for supply so they offer gift card incentives, cholesterol screenings, and some workplaces even offer Paid Time Off Incentives for their employees because people need blood.

Do you understand what that means?  It means that people are suffering and in need of blood in order to get well and live and not only can you help three of those folks in one donation, but you get gift cards and a host of other incentives while you do it.  You can even go to some places and get cold, hard cash. 

So why aren’t you doing it?

This morning when I went to donate, there were several empty cots and no one in the hallway.  My coworker and I were the only ones there.  I think that’s unfortunate.   You don’t have to do it quarterly, although you can.  Trust me: if I can go ice cold, pale, and sweat until I’m on the brink of passing out and still make it through, you’re going to be fine.

So hey: it’s World AIDS day.  Consider making a life-saving appointment today.  It can be your good deed of 2011. ♣

Sidenote: Did you know that if you identify as a male that has ever had sex with another male, you are ineligible to donate?  Even though blood is tested for HIV before being accepted, plenty of healthy, uninfected homosexual males are turned away for donation.  It wasn’t until November of this year that the UK lifted their ban.  Consider raising your voice for the U.S. to do the same. 

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Flight of the Wildebeest

30 Nov

Disclaimer: These are not my legs.

I’ve begun to run.

This is huge, because I’m made of blubber and fat and mostly squishy things.

I’ve attempted to run before but it hasn’t gone well.  And actually, it wasn’t so much “running” as “jogging from one light post to another and then walking the rest of the way”.   But now my endeavor is far more epic.  I’m doing Couch to 5K.

For those of you unawares, I’m 1) happy to be a source of constant education for you and 2) happy to tell you that Couch to 5K is a running schedule that takes couch potatoes and whips them into being able to run for 30 minutes straight (or the distance of a 5K) in 9 weeks.  You don’t pay for it.  It’s just a program someone whipped up and decided to share.  And it turns out it’s been effective for lots of folks.

I absolutely hate running.  I hate it with the fire of a thousand suns.  But one cannot deny that I am startlingly out of shape and in need of emergency intervention.  After all, a child was just put into foster care by a state here in the good ol’ US of A for being morbidly obese.  If the nation is going to start sweeping up all the fatties and placing them into programs against their will, I’m going to have to get on the trim trolley.   And surprisingly enough, I kind of enjoy this.  All I have to do is download a podcast that has music that fits the interval I’m on, and a dude’s voice that tells me when to walk and when to run.  There’s something about it that’s really satisfying, aside from the feeling that I want to hurl and my loud pleas with God to please make it stop.

People tend to stare.

Dave has kindly decided to join me.  He’s in much better shape than me since he’s a black belt in ninja studies and he does me the favor of allowing me to set the pace.  But since that bores him, he side steps and twirls around me while I struggle.  It’s an interesting dance: ballerino meets wildebeest.

I’ve had this sort of revelation.  There are two different kinds of endeavors in my world.  There are the things I want to do and give a shot, not caring if I make it to the end and willing to stop at any point I please (P90X, biting my nails, general acts of adulthood) and then there are things that I make stick, regardless.  Like this blog.  This is a no-excuses sort of deal.  I do it every day regardless of whether I’m inspired, feeling entertaining, have had anything interesting happen for the past two weeks, am sleep deprived, grumpy, or have all my fingers chopped off.  It happens.  It’s a force beyond me and there is no negotiation.  I simply decided to do it and kept doing it.  This is a sort of… trial.  What if I apply that thinking to other areas of my life?  Just simply do it because I’ve decided to do it.  In a blogging way, not in a ho-hum-maybe-I’ll-stop-when-I-want-way.

This could be a powerful unlocking of the psyche.  It’s also a good excuse to don a Jackie Blog shirt at a 5K.

And so it commences: the flight of the wildebeest. ♣

I owe you an update.  Long ago in a land far away, I started the search for the best macaroni and cheese recipe ever.  I’m still cooking, and still eating.  I don’t have much father to go, but each recipe is about a pound of pasta and there are only two people in my apartment.  It’s taking a while.  That being said, the Martha Stewart recipe is the front runner at the moment – but I have a promising recipe yet to be carried out.  A $25 Visa Gift Card is on its way to a lucky reader in the month of December.  Here’s hoping it’s you!

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I Forced Myself to Watch Twilight

29 Nov

Another tween sucked into a hole of unhealthy relationships. Pity.

I feel icky inside.  Angsty, even.  I didn’t want to do it, but that’s exactly why I had to, don’t you understand?

Happy Lollipop Tuesday, kids.

I see some new faces.  I really don’t know how you find me, but I’m flattered that you hang out.  As a result of your fresh, sparkling smiles, I am obligated to direct you to the top of this page where it explains what exactly a Lollipop Tuesday is.  It doesn’t have much to do with Lollipops.

Moving on: I watched the Twilight movie.  It doesn’t feel any better saying it the second time.  I still haven’t really come to terms with it.  I did it because I have this thing about judging things that look stupid without ever actually having an interaction with them.  It’s this awful personality trait that convinced me I hated the movie Garden State until I realized one day that I hadn’t even seen it. 

I had the same problem with kickball and banana peppers.

I was perfectly happy to go on with my life having never experienced the angst of Bella and Edward and their incredibly effed up relationship.  But I started to feel like everyone I know has seen it.  This past week one of my highly respected chick friends mentioned that they were going to go see the most recent installment at the theater.  I was shocked.  Then over Thanksgiving, my brother made an off-handed comment about Dave being a Jake, not an Edward.

I was in a flurry of confusion and discomfort.

So I sat down and rocked myself through it.  I was over it about half way through.  Or maybe when they said her name was Bella Swan.  And not in the “oh Twilight totally sucks” kind of way.  The baseball scene was pretty groovy.  More like a “this is really awkwardly acted, written, and not entertaining” sort of way.   I also have some pretty strong feelings about how it reinforces completely unhealthy relationships for tweens.   Come on – she lies to her family, runs away from home, completely blows off would-be friends and high school experiences for a guy who says he’s bad for her, will hurt her, and ultimately wants to feast on her flesh.

There’s something about the way she was ready to give up her entire life at the age of 17 if only it meant she could be with this one guy for the rest of forever that made my stomach feel all funky.  I imagine it has the same effect on tween girls but the funky feeling is a little farther south.

And that makes me sad.

But hey: angsty vampire-loving girls will be angsty vampire-loving girls.  Let their nether regions be tickled by whatever creepy love stories they please.

You know what the real downer to all of this is?  I was going to go see the most recent one at the theater because I have a few free movie passes sitting around. But the cost of the bus back and forth for Dave and I was the same amount as buying the movie online.

…So I bought it.  Now I own it.  It’s mine.

That’s real heartache. ♣

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Returning to the Corporate Jungle, or, The End of Bliss

28 Nov

Oh man.  Who likes coming back to work after a 4-day weekend? No one, that’s who.

I got a little greedy last week and took two days off (heaven forbid!).  Throw the natural God-given weekend in there and I feel like I’ve been on a real vacation.  Except instead of sunshine and new experiences, I have a decorated tree and an empty box of wine.

I like to keep it classy.

Sometimes when I’ve been away from a job too long, I feel like I’ll forget how to do it.  What if I go in today and when I answer the phone I just scream nonsensical words instead of a warm greeting?   Or when I have to take minutes, I just type “flamingo” over and over again? I’m not even entirely sure I remember how to make a meeting request on Outlook.

Oh man. I have to talk to people? And tell them things? What happened to sitting on my couch and petting my cat for 4 days?

I always harbor this fantasy after long weekends and holidays that the whole world will come to the conclusion that working is silly and we should all just stop.  Wouldn’t that be lovely?  You go to work today and your boss swings by to visit and tells you all about how their weekend away was wonderful and reminded them of the important things in life.  And that they’ve been thinking a lot about this and they’re willing to turn the workplace into a hippie commune, where people can hone their personal hobbies and crafts and receive a paycheck all the same.

It hasn’t happened yet; I’m not sure why.  Maybe my bosses don’t have vacations as awesome as mine.  Or maybe they just don’t like hippies.  Which obviously makes them racists.

At any rate, I’d better strap in; it’s going to be a long day of typing ‘flamingo’. ♣

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Does Anyone Actually Accomplish New Year’s Resolutions?

27 Nov

I’m running out of time to accomplish my New Year Resolutions.

Remember those old things? Way back from 1/1/11. I don’t even know what mine were.  I’m sure there was something to do with my nails and something to do with my weight.  That’s usually how it goes.  Oh, and I was going to do a 365 blog.

I guess I’ve almost locked in that last one, but by golly if I could trade the blog for looking bangin’ in a swimsuit and having a good set of talons, I probably would.  It’s nothing against you guys.  You guys are great.  It’s just that if I keep going on like this, I’ll need a Hover Round just to lug around all this blubber.

I wonder if there are people out there who really set up for themselves and then accomplish resolutions.  I don’t mean goals throughout the year – I’ve got those and I whoop them appropriately.  I mean the things we tell ourselves on January 1st.  Does anyone actually do those things?  I’m not convinced that anyone does, really.  January 1st resolutions tend not just to be goals that we have for ourselves, but things we actually want to change about ourselves.  I want to change that fact that I’m a nail biter and a junk food lover.   But just yesterday I tore down one of my nails to the point that it hurt and bought a bag of powdered donuts and chocolate milk for breakfast.  

Maybe the only resolutions that are actually kept are those that don’t require a great change in us.

So I’m curious, ya’ll.  We’ve got about a month to go before we have to take a good look at the things we said we’d do versus what we actually did.  

How are things looking for you? ♣ 

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My Cat’s Christmas Protest

26 Nov

My cat has taken up residence in the box that harbors my (fake) Christmas tree.

Actually, the tree harbors it no longer, as my apartment is now officially decked with boughs of holly.  So many, in fact, the Dave has begun to question whether my holiday spirit is too strong for him to tolerate.   He was even a little embarrassed for me to light up our Christmas tree for fear the neighbors would think we jumped the gun.

Besides Dave’s naysaying, Christmas decorating comes with a slew of obstacles.  Well, really just two: Lola and Hobbes.  Together, they’re a tag team of holiday terror, batting around ornaments that haven’t yet been added to the tree, eating half the garland strand before I notice and pull it from their intestines, and chewing ever so loudly on the tips of the artificial tree.

This year Lola carried out all the duties on her own.  I wondered where her partner in crime was until I went to put the Christmas tree box back in storage and instead found it as the new home to Hobbes.    It was adorable when we started, but now it’s day two.  I’m starting to think this is some sort of Occupy movement.  Is my cat against Christmas celebrations?  Is he fighting against the consumer-focused aspect of the holidays?  

I never knew he was so political.

There was only one other time that Hobbes took up residence in a box.  It was a banana box – one of those great rectangular ones that are relatively shallow and have a hole cut into the top of them.  I had finally gotten around to emptying items from it that I never really needed to have in storage in the first place and instead of taking the box right to the trash, I let it dwell in my living room for a day.  When I finally went to take it to the garbage, I found Hobbes inside, the curve of his rotund paunch resting ever so gracefully against the thin wall of cardboard.  We thought he would eventually move on, but he didn’t.  Every time we passed through the living room, he was inside. 

Since we couldn’t bring ourselves to throw away his favorite toy but also didn’t want a banana box hanging out in the living room, Dave and I decided to decorate it.  We sat down one night and painted the box brown, with blue waves and fish on the bottom half.  We secured a pole to one corner of the box and hoisted a handkerchief to the top, thereby making Hobbes the captain of his own sailboat.

My favorite was when he stood up in the center of the box where the rectangular hole was and it looked like he was sailing the seas.  I’d have given him an eye patch if he weren’t so squirmy.

The problem with the Christmas tree box is that it’s just so darn big.  I really can’t justify redecorating it and keeping it around; it’s enormous.  Plus, why get him all excited only to throw the tree back in and haul it to the basement in a few weeks?

Still, I’m not sure I have the heart to evict him.  I might fashion it into a canoe.  Or I could make it simple and hoist a banner that says “Occupy Christmas” across the top of the box.  

Let’s just hope the neighborhood cats don’t catch wind and come join the cause. ♣♣

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Milking Christmas

25 Nov

You realize there will be Christmas music soon, don’t you?

Oh yes.  Oh yes it’s time.

I have this habit of just floating on through the month as if it will never end.  We have so much time, I think. Golly, December is oodles of days away!  Lies, all lies to the self.  Hideous, shameful denial.  December, my friends, is a mere six days away.

November is almost entirely consumed by Thanksgiving and plans for Thanksgiving and thoughts of Thanksgiving, which is immediately followed by Christmas and plans for Christmas, and thoughts of Christmas, and then before you know it, you’re shoveling down sauerkraut and hot dogs and singing Auld Lang Syne.

Or however you celebrate the new year.

Every year I tell myself to cherish every single day and every year the holiday decorations on shelves and Christmas music on the radio still slap me upside the head and rattle my brain around.  …Christmas? Already?! 

On one hand, I’m excited to get on with 2012.  After all, 2011 was a poop storm and it’d be great to close the books.  On the other hand, once Christmas if over there’s really nothing to look forward to until, oh, I don’t know – it’s not so cold that I wish I were dead?

I have a strategy for all this too-soon angst.  And it’s that this evening will be spent decking the halls of my apartment (or hall, rather) with boughs of holly.  I’ve never really known what those are but by golly I’m going to google it and make it happen.  I’m going to blast Christmas music and light candles that reek of wintertime.  I’m going to put up my Christmas tree in the front window and light it up proudly in my overwhelmingly Orthodox Jew neighborhood.

I want this kind of Christmas joy. Every single day.

And every day until Christmas I will stare at the decorations and smell the candles and yoink my cats out of the tree they will inevitably be hidden in and praise God for my favorite time of year.

Here’s to a slow and steady celebration.  May we all stay warm and bright. ♣

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Thanksgiving Pseudo-Haikus

24 Nov

In celebration

of this joyous holiday

I wrote bad haikus

 

Face your food.

I.  “Stuffed”

Losing self-respect

I’m sure the pie is awesome

I just can’t do this.

 

II. “Baby food”

New babies this year

So hard to resist the urge

to feed them turkey

 

III. “Saran Wrap”

Take your vitamins

They help with memory loss

and save me store trips

 

Happy thanksgiving, all. ♣

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What Happened to Black Friday?

23 Nov

Okay, let me be frank here.  What the hell happened to Black Friday?

Oh it’s still there, sure.  But it looks funny this year.  Don’t be fooled: November 25th is not what it seems.

Every year, my brother and I have a Black Friday tradition.  We get the flyers ahead of time and scope out the deals.  My brother is a total nerdy nerd so for him this means assessing the tech needs of the family.  Need a new television? Mike’s got it covered.  Want to watch your favorite movies on Blu-Ray but can’t justify replacing your DVDs? No worries: Mike will heed your concerns in November.  Heck, last year he got three DVD/Blu-Ray players for 20 dollars each just in case the family decided they wanted them.

The year before, we stood like ice statues outside Best Buy at 3am to be one of the first in line for Mike’s most coveted item of Black Fridays past: The Logitech Harmony Remote.  This baby is a fully programmable remote that suits all your entertainment center needs.  You program the step by step process for everything from your old school Nintendo to your shiny new DVD/Blu-Ray player (courtesy of Mike, perhaps?) and when you’re finished, it turns on everything you need for a single task with one beautifully orchestrated ballet of genius.  Simply push the button beside “play a game” and the correct sound system boots up, the TV turns on, and your video game console emits a soft glow that whispers it’s ready.

That’s a beautiful purchase, my friends.

It’s not just about paying only a fraction of the price for life-changing goods.  It’s a hardcore bonding experience.  There’s nothing like forcing yourself into a vertical position and prying your eyelids open with your fingers on a still-digesting stomach full of turkey to reinforce that brother-sister love.

Mike and I are highly evolved species in a capitalistic society.  It’s a test of evolution, do you understand?  We have to stand in line looking like hell frozen over, shaking with coffee that was cold the moment it was put in our hands and yet keep our limbs warm enough to dart through aisles to nab those deals before nimble and ever-persistent soccer moms.  Success means we’re at the top of the food chain.  And we’re always successful.

But this year it’s different.

What a sham.

Some stores are opening at midnight.  That means that there’s no scraping our skins out of bed – we simply have to go to bed late the night before.   There is no early morning coffee and driving home as the sun comes up, laughing at our delirium and celebrating a wagon full of gadgets.  There’s no test of evolution.

Even worse, some folks are opening their doors on Thanksgiving Day.  It isn’t enough to test your ability to get out of bed in the morning or to stay up late at night; now we must test family loyalty.  In order to get the brightest and best catches this holiday season, you’ll need to skip the egg nog around the fire or the sneaking of cold turkey throughout a good game of cards.  You’ll have to end the festivities of one day to embark on the capitalistic traditions of the next.

So thanks, but no thanks, Black Friday.  You’ve been a great, unexpected festivity born of exhaustion and early morning laughter.  But I’m not forking over conversation with family and late night board games for bright flyers and percent-off signs.  You’re in uncharted territory.  You can’t compete.  I wish you nothing but failure this year.  

Next year I want my Black Friday back. ♣

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