this ain't livin'

Vacherin | 24Dec06

Vacherin Mont D’Or is a delightfully interesting cheese.

Stinky, gooey, and flavorful…just the sort of thing I like.

I found myself eating Vacherin tonight because my father is visiting and a friend of his brought it over along with an assortment of delicious cheeses and olives…a most enjoyable evening to be had by all. For the most part, I enjoy interacting with my father’s friends, because they are from a generation of interesting, well educated, respectful, and thoughtful people. I always learn interesting things from them and always enjoy the time we spend together.

I say usually. This friend is a marked contrast, I must say, from the other friend of my father’s who dropped by and spent the entire time being rude to me.

I had very mixed feelings about this. I mean, to begin with, I think it is generally not cool to be rude to someone in their own home. As a guest, politeness is kind of expected of you, especially when you are supposed to be “older and wiser” than the person hosting you, because in theory this would demonstrate your superior level of maturity. I really cannot imagine any of my youthful thoughtless friends treating a host like I was treated, though…within the first ten minutes of being in my house, she called me stupid, said my spotless home was “amazingly clean for a house where young people live,” and made a host of other lovely comments.

Being a generally direct person, I suggested that perhaps she should leave, since people who insult me are not welcome in my home.

To my amazement, despite the fact that she had been intolerably rude to me beyond the standards of acceptable social behaviour, I was the one who was branded as rude, merely because I requested that she modify her behaviour or leave.

I found this quite fascinating on a number of levels. As usual, the assumption was made that because I am younger, I am somehow less able to comport myself in polite society. Futhermore, it is apparently socially acceptable to treat your house like a piece of garbage if he or she is younger than you, and therefore stupid. When challenged by your host, you are allowed to be even more rude…simply because, being young, your host must therefore be incapable of being right.

I am, needless to say, quite infuriated. I do not invite people over to my home to insult me. Nor do I appreciate it when other people invite people to my home to insult me, and do not remonstrate their unruly guests.

I mean, is this really what “adults” do? Insult young people? Because, if so, I have no interest in adulthood…I’ll stick with my hopelessly rude young friends, who would never dream of arriving at the house of someone they didn’t know very well without a present, and certainly would not spend their entire visit talking trash about the host. My hopelessly rude and socially inept youthful friends would not behave thusly…because usually that type of behaviour is considered to be childish.

So what gives here? Am I seriously expected to accept abuse simply because someone is older than me? Am I supposed to host people who are rude as some sort of learning experience? When is it ever socially acceptable to be rude to your host, and was I out of bounds for asking her to be respectful or leave?

I give up on “polite society,” I really do.

I suppose I’ll go back downstairs and enjoy some more Vacherin. And seethe. Quietly.

[rudeness]

At the Cutting Edge | 23Dec06

I was in the bathtub last night reading Cosmo*, and in between “New Hot Sex Tricks!” (hint: touch his penis during foreplay!) and “Cosmo for Men: The Morning After” (hint: don’t be a dick), I stumbled across a truly fascinating, and dare I say enlightening article. You see, it is important to understand that I approach Cosmo from the stance of an interested outside observer. It’s like tracking chimps in the wild for me, a glimpse of a radically alien culture with its own complex power and social structure.

What this article was about, essentially, is how babies are the newest fashion accessory. It contained a brief overview of babies in the news and pregnant celebrities. What is also had was a fashion guide. Yes, that’s right: show off that bump in designer duds! The best bags to accessorize your baby with! How to gain a minimal amount of weight during pregnancy, and get it off as soon as possible afterwards!

I was rather horrified.

You see, the thing is…I don’t particularly like babies, as a general rule. I could do with quite a few less in the world. So any magazine encouraging people to breed is a cause for concern for me. But beyond that, babies are people. They have souls, and minds of their own. The thought of using a living being as a fashion accessory, whether it be a toy dog or an infant, is disgusting. What kind of life does a child live when it only exists because its mother needed to follow the latest hip trend, and what happens when babies fall out of style? Tossed out, like last year’s handbag?

This article also worries me as a feminist because it makes some generalizations about female society that are a bit disturbing. The first, of course, is that all women should follow trends, and that we will only be widely socially accepted if we keep up with the times. If you aren’t ready for a child, that’s too bad, because now really is the best time, and you’d better get knocked up as soon as possible so that you don’t miss the season! If you are infertile, you’d better consider in vitro fertilization, because adoption won’t cut it, ladies. Thinking for yourself is not to be encouraged, because it might lead you to dangerous conclusions. (Which would also be erroneous, because you are a woman, but the damage would have been done anyhow.)

The second concern I have about articles like this is the issue of reproductive rights. I am a bit uncomfortable with the idea of encouraging people to breed, which is a life changing decision. Ultimately, even in a very committed couple, the nine months of the pregnancy are very hard on a woman—far more than her partner. That’s a lot for a body to endure for the sake of fashion…just like corsets and high heels are a lot to endure. Of course, at the end of the day, you can take a corset off, or throw the high heels in the back of a closet. You can’t really do that with junior, though, unless you want to spend some time getting to know child protective services. Using your reproductive abilities to follow fashion…seems a little ominous to me. Family planning is a calculated choice, akin to buying a house, not a new pair of pants. I know a lot of very happy parents, and I am very happy for them…and I also know that their choice to have a child was calculated, and not done on a whim to follow the latest fashions. I also know that their children will be loved and well cared for throughout their lives, which is as it should be.

So here we have women being told to get pregnant for the sake of fashion. We are being informed that it’s the new in thing to do. Let us disregard the human lives that might be damaged by this trend, shall we? Now is the time to wear designer maternity gowns and dress your infant in humiliating outfits, to flaunt your cute baby and pass it to the nanny when it gets dull.

This is not, by any means, a celebration of fertility: not when curvy, fertile women are maligned for being too fat. Nor is it a way of growing a closer connection with nature: not when women schedule their births via cesaerian section so that the birth won’t stretch their precious vaginas or interfere with a vacation. It isn’t even really a celebration of love and family when the focus is on social status.

I pity the fashionista children being born, because I suspect that they will live half lives of misery and disappointment after their mothers toss them away. There are lots of perfectly good reasons to have a baby, I’m sure, but I really don’t think fashion is one of them.

*Why yes, I do read trashy magazines in the bathtub. Everyone has a guilty pleasure, and this happens to be one of mine. At least I’m up front about it. And I always think it’s better to know the enemy: while most of the articles in magazines like this amuse me, others are also horrifying. Take, for example, the myriad of articles about second guessing the opposite sex, manipulating people into giving you want you want by using your body, and critiques of “fat” celebrities.

[Cosmo]
[reproductive rights]
[fashion]

Comcast Totally and Completely Sucks | 22Dec06

So, our internet connection has been patchy the last few days. I’ve mainly been pirating other peoples’, but today I was having trouble doing that as well, so I thought it was time for my weekly Comcast phone call to see what was up, and also to find out how much money they think I owe them.

Call number one:

“Hi, thank you for choosing Comcast, this is—”

“Verizon Wireless Network Message 562: Call Lost.”

Call number two:

“Hi, thank you for choosing Comcast, this is John.”

“Uh, hi John, I just got cut off. I’m having trouble connecting to the internet? I’ve reset the router and modem multiple times and they aren’t working.”

“Right, could I get the phone number associated with the account?”

“Sure, 123-456-7890.”

“Great, and your—”

“Verizon Wireless Network Message 562: Call Lost.”

Call number three:

“Hi, thank you for calling Comcast, this is Jane, how may I help you?”

“Hi Jane, I was just cut off…I am having some problems with my internet?”

“Ok, could I get the phone number associated with the account?”

“123-456-7890.”

“Great, and your name?”

“Defenestrate Jones.”

“Great, Defenestrate…so what seems to be the problem?”

“Well Jane, our internet hasn’t been working all day, and I have reset the router and modem, and it is still not working.”

“Hrm, ok…well, I don’t see a modem online at that address. How many lights are blinking?”

“Uh, the one on the right.”

“Ok, I’m going to have you unplug the modem for at least fifteen seconds and—”

“Verizon Wireless Network Message 593: Call Terminated.”

Call number four:

“Hi, thank you for calling Comcast, this is Dave. How may I help you?”

“Hi Dave…I’m having problems with my internet.”

“Great! Can I get the phone number associated with the account?”

“123-456-7890.”

“Ok, and your name?”

“Defenestrate Jones.”

“What?”

“D-e-f-e-n-e-s-t-r-a-t-e.”

“Oh, ok. So, uh, I don’t see a modem online at that address.”

“Yeah, uh, the last tech I had said to unplug it and plug it back in…I’ve tried resetting it a couple of times.”

“Hrm, well, I guess I had better send a tech out then.”

“Uh, yeah, that would be great.”

“Hrm, well. Looks like the whole block is out!”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, we can get someone out on…the 28th. Does that sound good?”

“No.”

“Ok, great! How about between one and three?”

“Fine, whatever. Dave.”

“Now, I should tell you that if the problem is outside the home or with our equipment, then we won’t charge you. But if it is your equipment, we’ll charge you $50.”

“Well, it certainly sounds like your problem if the entire block is out, now doesn’t it, Dave?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so. So I’ll make that appointment for the 28th then, okey dokey?”

“Yeah, uh, Dave, I was also wondering if you could tell me the outstanding balance on my account?”

“Sure thing, uh…one moment, let me confirm this appointment…yeah, $173.84.”

“Oh, great, Dave. That’s great. Thanks.”

“Verizon Wireless Network Message 592: Unable to Complete Connection.”

And how I am connecting to the internet right now, you ask? A lady never tells.

[Comcast]

Harry Potter and the…Deathly Hallows? | 21Dec06

Yeah, I’m a Harry Potter fan. Wanna fight about it?

In keeping with her annual tradition, J.K. Rowling has put up an early Christmas present on her site for readers. I suppose the title of this post is kind of a give away, but, yes, the title of the seventh and allegedy final book in the series has been released. Like the rest of the titles, it does not give much away, although the grammar choice of the title is interesting: deathly rather than deadly.

My gut instinct on reading the title was that it had something to do with Halloween (which was the night Harry’s parents were killed), or perhaps something to do with hallowed or sacred ground. I wonder if we are going to learn about a particularly sacred spot in the wizarding world in the book, and if this is perhaps where Harry and Voldemort will have their final show down. Either way, it is going to be deathly for someone…and I suspect that we are going to learn a lot more about how exactly Harry’s parents died, because the sequence of events that night may turn out to be very important.

The question is when the book itself will come out, and there are a couple of theories on that. Here are my bets, in order of closeness:

• 21 June, 2007. The books tend to come out around the summer solstice. I, of course, would love to see it come out this early, but it seems unlikely. The book still needs to be finished, edited, prepared for print, printed, bound, and distributed. I’m not sure that this could be accomplished by that time, although perhaps if she is close to being finished…
• 7 July, 2007. 7/7/07 has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? And wizards are all about trifectas of numbers. Unfortunately, as many theorists have pointed out, Rowling is unlikely to release a book on the anniversary of the London bombings. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is being released in movie theatres on the 13th, as well. The book could serve to promote the movie…or no one would go to see the movie because they were all reading…either way, this date seems pretty unlikely.
• 31st July, 2007. Harry’s (and Rowling’s) birthday. I would lean pretty strongly for this date because I suspect that a summer release is likely.
• 31st October, 2007. I may actually explode if I have to wait this long. But…hallows?
• Some unknown date…most likely related to an event in book seven.

Here’s hoping for 21 June, because that would be awesome! But right now I am putting good money on 31st July.

I am a little disappointed in the title, but then again I was underwhelmed by Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince as a title, as well, and it has turned out to be my favourite book so far. I just hope she sends the damn thing to press soon!

Gleeful giddy gladness fills me.

[Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows]

Season of Giving | 21Dec06

The Chronicle today has one in what I am sure will be a series of Christmas tearjerkers designed to fill us with guilt and pity. Read it if you’d like: it’s tragic need for organ donation meets poetic love story. Or don’t. It is a story that is repeated all over the country on a frequent basis.

According to the article, 10-15% of the people in the United States who critically need organs will die before they get them. That means that if you are ever on a transplant list, you have an 85% chance of getting the organ you need, and that chance goes down if you are a severe case: the bleak truth is that if you are in urgent need, you may not get an organ in time.

To match for an organ, it must be from someone who has the same blood type you do. That person also must be a candidate for organ donation, which usually involves being brain dead. In addition, the individual has to be close enough for the organ to logistically be brought to you, which means you stand a better chance of getting an organ if you live in an urban area.

In some cases, organs and tissue can be harvested from the living, as is the case with some skin grafts, getting a single kidney, or something along those lines. In most cases, though, someone has to die for your organ. Which is a sobering thought, that in the moment of celebration over your new lease on life, someone somewhere else is mourning.

It is even more tragic that thousands of organs are wasted every year. Perfectly good, usable kidneys, lungs, livers, hearts…thrown away, incinerated, buried in the ground. Some people may have a personal objection to organ donation, or may be disturbed by it, but it seems silly to waste your organs when you are dead. You don’t have a use for them, most religions including Islam support organ donation, and there might be someone in need somewhere that you could help.

By donating your organs, you have the potential to save multiple lives, to save someone’s vision, to help a burn victim. That is a pretty neat thing, that in death you can be generous. Especially at this time of year, when everyone is harping on generosity and gifts, why not talk to your loved ones about organ donation? Make sure that your wishes are clearly expressed now, because it will save your family from making a heart rending decision later.

If you are eligible to donate organs, make sure that you carry a donor card in your wallet and that your family understands that you would like your organs to be donated. When the time comes, it may not even be practical or feasible to donate, but wouldn’t it be a pity if two people died instead of one?

If you would like to learn more about the organ donation process, Mary Roach has a great chapter on it in Stiff, talking about beating heart donation. Several other journalists have written about the process, from determination of brain death to the transplant of an organ. And in case you are worried about having your organs taken before you are ready to give them up: the process to ensure that you are brain dead is a complex one, and numerous medical tests are run to determine that you will not recover from your injuries.

You can offer yourself as a donor at any age, so why not let other people use your body when you are done with it?

[organ donation]

GVTV | 20Dec06

I think it has been pretty well established at this point that I am a huge fan of Good Vibrations. It’s a sex positive, fun place to be with lots of great toys and an awesome staff who are always very helpful and great at meeting your needs. They also have a series of workshops and other public outreach events to educate people about sexuality, the body, sexual health, and all that fun stuff.

Recently, they launched Good Vibrations Television (GVTV). You can find a list of the episodes here. All of the episodes are under five minutes long, and are really interesting and informative. They have features on safe sex, harnesses, BDSM, the clitoris, and a host of other interesting topics. The quickies have a sweet sort of homemade feel, featuring staff in the stores and on the street interviews.

In addition to introducing people to the range of services Good Vibrations offers, GVTV also is a great educational tool. As if sex education in the schools could ever get this good—they debunk myths about sexuality, talk about how to use cock rings, and discuss various lubricant options. It’s certainly worth checking out and, er, turning your friends on to, no matter what your level of sexual experience is.

I think that open discussion about sexuality is important, and something that doesn’t happen nearly enough in our society. I am hoping to see future episodes covering sex and disability, STIs and an active sex life, and similar issues. It’s refreshing to see the on-street interviews with people who seem to range from looking distinctly uncomfortable about the whole affair to being deeply into it, talking passionately with the interviewers about topics that interest them. I would hope that if nothing else, GVTV will open eyes that were previously closed, and might, er, stimulate some interesting conversations.

It is also, of course, a great way to waste a good hour or two when I should have been working, but that’s beside the point.

[GVTV]

Google Reader | 19Dec06

So, I realized the other day that I was wasting an alarming amount of time trolling through all the websites I check every day. I had been resisting the use of an RSS reader because I am not really an early adopter. This new fangled technology, you know.

Now I am really regretting that choice, because I could have saved an obscene amount of time by not being recalcitrant.

I love Google Reader a whole lot. I am kind of a Google slut—I am sure that there are other great readers out there, but I try to centralize things and Google is very central for me. So yeah, Google Reader. I’m still slowly loading it with all the sites I read, which is going to take awhile, and there are already about 70 feeds going on.

And I love it. I pop on in the morning and just troll through everything new. No more opening up eight million tabs to figure out what is going on in the world: oh no, I can catch up on everything in a central location. If I want to read comments and such, I jump over to the actual post.

I realize that many of my readers already use RSS readers, and are rolling their eyes at this post. But for the rest of you—you really ought to check it out. It’s an excellent time saving device, and most blogs make it super easy for you to subscribe to their RSS feed. (Here’s a link to mine, for example.) I’ve separated the sites I read into categories, allowing me to go through all the food posts at once, all the sexuality posts, etc, which is awesome. It marks things as read after I read them, allowing me to go back at leisure and read things when I feel like it.

And…good God, how much time it saves. Efficiency, thy name is Google Reader.

[Google Reader]

Annual Review | 18Dec06

My most read post, interestingly, is one from last December: Omnis Animales Post Coitem Triste Sunt. Apparently my readers have a burning interest in annual exams. I actually received a lot of commentary from medical professionals, who said they appreciated hearing a patient’s perspective on the experience. Since it was such a popular post, I think we’ll make it an annual tradition (hah hah).

Without further ado, kiddos: Annual Exam 2006! YAY!

Naturally, having moved, my doctor has changed. Since I’m poor, I go to Planned Parenthood. It’s an interesting experience. I hadn’t been to a Planned Parenthood before…the Mendocino Coast Clinics handled all kinds of stuff, so it wasn’t just a reproductive health center.

It didn’t really occur to me until I arrived that people, you know, bomb abortion clinics. Even in progressive places like San Francisco. So it was a little intimidating walking up to this super secured building, taking an elevator up, and having to be buzzed through a series of doors to sit and wait in the waiting room.

My appointment time? 1:30.

Now, I know that Planned Parenthood is a busy place. There are all sorts of emergencies that need to be handled, and an annual exam is pretty routine care. So I figured it might take a little while to be seen, and in fact it did: I was ushered through the back at 2:00, where I had a quick interview with Hazel, who totally rocks. (Shout out to Hazel! I love Hazel!) She basically asked all of those “new partner in the last year, any side effects from the bc, etc” kind of questions and we went through that pretty fast. Then she used a wicked cool disposable thermometer on me, and I sat in the hall to wait…for another half hour.

Curiously, no clean catch urine sample adventure for me. And I had even prepared, too. Damnit.

Then a nurse practitioner came to collect me and ushered me into “Room Six.” It was actually a really nice exam room…it had these, uh, bay windows (with blinds on them), but natural light still streamed in and made it really comfortable. There was also an ultrasound machine in there, which reminded me that Planned Parenthood handles baby stuff too. (I think it wasn’t a regular exam room, and was actually specifically an ultrasound room, because it was so roomy and nice.)

The nurse left while I changed into the exam gown, although “gown” is not the word I would use. I’m used to looking like death on a cracker in a faded exam gown with at least one broken snap, but this thing…yeah, you know what, Planned Parenthood? D- for exam gowns. I had a paper vest, I shit you not, with a bigger piece of paper that I was kind of supposed to drape across my middle. My ass was hanging out. My, uh, other stuff was hanging out. Everything was hanging out. I think I would have preferred out and out nudity, honestly.

The nurse came back in to do my examination, and let me tell you: this lady got down to business. She asked if I had been before and I said no, I have recently moved, and I mentioned that I was living on Treasure Island. So she kept asking me about the Island all through the exam, which was a little wierd.

Have you ever had someone palpate your bosoms and ask if you live with a bunch of poor people? Yeah, it’s a little wierd. Not a little wierd…it’s really wierd. While I stared at the ceiling, she chattered on about low income housing and how she was really intrigued by the Island.

Then the fun part began…the part where I got to put my feet in the stirrups and scoot down the table.

“Uh,” I started to say. “Er, I have kind of a…”

And with that, she impaled me with the speculum. No foreplay from her, no teasing about palpating the ovaries—she just went for it.

“Do they have a grocery store on the Island,” she says, all casual like we are meeting for coffee.

“Ugh,” I say. “Uh, no, we have a little convenience store thing, but we have to go into the City for stuff. Ergh.”

“Really? Wow, you think there would be a store or something, don’t you?”

“Agh.”

And with that, she was out, snapping off her gloves and tossing them in the trash.

“Well great,” she said. “Everything looks normal, I’ll step out so that you can get dressed, ok?”

Slightly shell shocked, I nodded. She stepped out, I dressed, and we moved on with our lives.

I must say, although it essentially took me an hour to be seen, I did like the efficiency. I can see how other people wouldn’t, but I kind of enjoyed just getting it over with as quickly as possible. I’m certain that had I asked questions or expressed needs, they would have been addressed, but otherwise: I’m busy, they’re busy, let’s just get in an get out, you know? Overall I would say it was a pretty positive experience…but next time, I’m bringing my own exam gown.

[annual exam]

Love Hotels | 17Dec06

In Japan, a society where many young adults live with their families and generations share a small space with thin walls, love hotels seem like a logical extension of life. A quiet place where you can slip away for a few hours to satisfy your basic human needs. They run the gamut from grim and minimalistic rooms by the hour to elaborate love dens, and the prices vary accordingly as well.

While I have never stayed in a love hotel, I am intrigued by the concept. A love hotel is a simple and honest thing which does not hide behind a facade. You come to a love hotel to have sex. You pick out a room you like, you pay for it, a key is slipped across the counter, and you go get it on. When you’re done, the sheets are changed and the room is tidied up for the next customer.

We have many skewed perceptions about the sexuality of other nations. Japan, especially, seems to confuse the Western mind because from Japan comes tentacle porn, but also the tea ceremony. Shibari, and cherry blossam festivals. Japanese erotic art is some of the most intriguing, stimulating, and…interesting in the world.

Misty Keasler has a photo set up at Photographs Do Not Bend which consists entirely of shots of love hotels. The technical skills demonstrated in the set are impressive: the composition and lighting of the images is impeccable. But in addition, the photographs have a strange poignancy about them. They are glimpse into another, magical world, much like love hotels themselves.

I particularly like the traditionally styled Japanese room with sliding doors and tatami mats that is obviously fitted out for bondage. Another bondage room features a giant red and black bed along with traditional Japanese erotic woodcuts on the walls. A number of the rooms artfully integrate a St. Andrews cross—I think I might need to acquire one. I think it would accent the hall beautifully.

[love hotels]

Guerrilla Garden | 17Dec06

Today Puff and I went on a gardening extravaganza. She didn’t really sleep last night either, and when we woke up, it was decided that the back yard should be tackled. The back yard has been kind of a sore point with us—it was filled with overgrown weeds and lumber when we moved in, and the leasing agency kept promising that it would be fixed…but it wasn’t.

So we got proactive, put on pants, and hurled the lumber over the fence for someone else to deal with. This is my general course of action with a lot of things in life right now, so why not backyard lumber?

Then, I coaxed Cap’n Boysenberry into taking us to Home Depot for plants and planters. Cap’n Raspberry came along as well, although the two of them stayed in the car while we wandered around the garden section. So now I’ve done the heterosexual hipster couple wandering around Home Depot talking about plants thing, and the ambitious lesbian gardening couple wandering around Home Depot talking about plants thing. The staff must assume I’m poly.

We ended up spending around $120, getting six ten inch terracotta pots and four twelve inchers. We used three of the big ones to plant climbing vines: jasmine, passion flower, and something with cool pink flowers. We lined those suckers up against the back fence, staked them, and hoped for the best. I suppose we will need to repot them at some point if we want them to get really big, but I think for now things will go well. We planted lavender in the third pot and put it under the window.

In the small pots, we put an assortment of colorful flowers. We staged them artfully around the back yard, and it looks so much better back there already. The grass is still weedy as all get out, but the plants make it a much nicer place to be. It is my sincere hope that all of them thrive, which means I probably shouldn’t touch them too much. I am hoping that by summer time, the vines will be climbing well and everything else will be in good shape too.

Our next garden adventure, of course, is taming the grass.

Where does the guerrilla part come in, you ask? Let’s just say that our potting soil did not come from Home Depot, and leave it at that.

[gardening]