When I am Queen of the Universe, I’m going to ban dreadlocks on white people.
Dreadlocks on black people look cool and are often flattering. Dreadlocks on white people look dirty and gross.
White people, we’ve had like, ALL the advantages for hundreds of years. We can give up this hairstyle to the people who wear it better, okay?
…poisonin mah d00dz!!
A friend and I were talking yesterday about people who make these foul, epithet-filled, racist rants and then blame alcohol or whatever for them (cf Mel Gibson, those frat boys in Borat).
Guys, alcohol lowers your filters, it doesn’t put stuff in your head that wasn’t already there.
I’m just incredulous. I mean, when I’ve had too much to drink, some crazy stuff might come out of my mouth. Some of it might even be personally offensive. But it’s all stuff, and all vocabulary, that’s already in my mind, and usually it’s stuff that it would occur to me to say even sober, but I filter it out. So after some of Mike’s sangria, my sentences might be more profanity-laden, and they might be more bawdy, but now matter how buzzed I might be, racial epithets and insults are not going to be part of my conversation.
I suppose it’s a statement about the quality of my upbringing that it was never a matter of learning to catch myself before saying, but instead I just never learned to say them to begin with. That’s probably a whole other blog entry, starting with the time my biracial friend in junior high said that the white kids didn’t like him because he was black, and the black kids didn’t like him because he was white. I was mystified by this, and could not imagine such a thing being the case…
Anyway, my point is, suing Sasha Baron Cohen because he plied you with alcohol and coaxed you into saying racist things on camera is stupid, because no amount of alcohol is going to create racism where there isn’t any.
(Which is not to say that I’m a pristine person with no racially-based hangups- I think we all have baggage. But some people’s baggage leads them to call people n-ggers when they’ve had too much to drink, and some people’s baggage leads them to be extra-polite to black people they encounter lest said black people think they are being rude to them simply because they are black.)
Also, while those of you who know me know that I am the most iconoclastic when it comes to urging people to get over their hangups about specific words, even I choke on racial epithets when I have to say them for the sake of a discussion about them. Like, I think it’s ridiculous that we have to tiptoe around and refer to “the N word,” but I still hesitate to let the actual word pass my lips.
Of course, I also think that my blonde-haired, blue-eyed self doesn’t have any moral position to tell entire ethnic and racial groups that they should just “get over it already” when it comes to insulting terms applied to them.
I love the Christmas season. I love the lights and decorations and music and all that stuff. I hate the Cult of Santa and crass materialism, of course, but I’ve gotten pretty good on focusing on all the good stuff and blocking a lot of the bad stuff out. Before Thanksgiving, I avoid listen ing to Christmas music, I avoid pulling out decorations, I don’t do holiday shopping unless I run into that Perfect Thing that I won’t find again, but… on the day after Thanksgiving, I kick it off. the red sparkly sweater come out of the drawer, the Christmas music is nonstop on the iPod, the decorations come out, and I enjoy every second of it until New Year’s.
So with that in mind, I invite you to join me in kicking the season off with a little commercialism of the uplifting and edifying variety. Eat ‘n’ Park has put their Christmas star commercial online for viewing and download. It’s the heartwarming story of a star who wants to get to the top of the Christmas tree, but who can’t until he gets a little lift. It’s worthwhile, y’all. I find myself watching it several times during the holiday season from my hard drive since I no longer live in a market where I can see it on TV.
Happy Holidays, all.
Happy Thanksgiving to all my US friends, family, and readers. Here are a few of the things I am thankful for this year:
- My husband Tom, who… well, too many reasons to name here. 
- Our families, who have adjusted to these marriage-induced changes in holiday traditions with grace and flexibility.
- Our friends, who form our family-away-from-family, and who stand with us in both times of joy and sorrow.
- The many material blessings we have received, which can be so easy to lose sight of. We are exceedingly fortunate to have abundant food, clothing, and shelter.
These are just a few, but they’re the big ones. And now, a blessing for our Thanksgiving feast:
Blessed are you, O Lord, maker of heaven and earth. You have blessed us in Your abundance this year, and we humbly ask Your blessings again as we gather to count them and celebrate Your care and provision for us. Nourish us with this food, and make us mindful that it is Your hand which provides it for us. In the name of Your Son, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.
Tom and I are at the Baxendell Family Compound in Pittsburgh this weekend, having made the journey to my homeland for a joint celebration of my brother’s birthday and my 10 year high school reunion.
It’s been a pretty relaxed weekend, aside from some moron in a Beamer rear-ending us on 885 and pushing us into the rear of the car in front of us.
My high school dedicated a new building today, a gorgeous new facility, directly across the street from the existing building, designed to house the Upper School while allowing the instruction space in the existing building to be devoted to the Lower and Middle Schools. There was a cocktail party Friday night, at which I quietly enjoyed blatantly walking around in front of former authority figures while holding an alcoholic beverage in my hand- it’s the little things that remind you you’re an adult. The dedication ceremony this morning was a little on the long side- endless litanies of people who had to be acknowledged and applauded for their efforts in raising the millions of dollars it took to build the structure.
As much as I enjoyed exploring the new Upper School and hearing about all the things WT has planned for the future, the real treat for me was walking through the old building, the one I spent four years of my life roaming, on the way over to the party. We entered through the cafeteria, which has been refurnished and didn’t feel quite as familiar, but then walked up the center staircase to the entry hall, always and inexplicably one of my favorite places to pass through. I put my right hand on the railing, looked up at the light fixture at the bend, and smelled the faint scent of that familiar place, walking slowly and breathing deeply.
Suddenly, and just for a moment, I was 13 and it was the first day of freshman year, hoping fervently that this new school would be everything it had promised me when I had visited the spring before. Wondering if my new classmates would like me, and if I would like them. Wondering if I would grow to hate the uniform I had been so relieved to put on instead of choosing a first-day-of-school showoff outfit. Excited, frightened, and hopeful all at once.
I ran into one of my classmates at the party. I mentioned how nice it had felt to walk through the old building and up those stairs and she said, “It still smells the same, doesn’t it?” It does, and it felt like home.
Unlike a lot of people I know, I have mostly fond memories of high school. It’s not that I pine for it, or that there’s enough money in the world to pay me to go back to being a teenager… it’s that my school was (and I’m told still is) a special place. High school is a difficult time for us all- figuring out who you are, who you want to be, and how to get there is hard work- but I always had a lot of support and encouragement from the people around me there. It was a place where you’d always find people to cheer you on while you pursued your passions and they made it safe to try new things, even if it turned out that you weren’t any good at them. 
So while I hesitate to admit it, I actually misted up a little bit at the end of the dedication today when we sang the school alma mater. It’s a ridiculous song, set to the tune of “Pomp and Circumstance,” but the last time I sang it was 10 years ago, at graduation, as I was saying goodbye to this place that had been (and still is, in a way) such a huge part of me.
I still remembered every word.
By the way, our Flickr MiniCards came over the weekend. SO very excited. They really do feel fantastic in your hands, and I’m thoroughly pleased with the quality.
I haven’t taken a photo to post to the FlickrPool yet, but that’s because I’m having a crap week and am trying to keep all my grouchiness to myself.
As we settled in for Monday Pub Quiz last night, Tom, Kimberley, and I were discussing how much we look forward to it each week. We enjoy having this standing date with our friends to catch up with one another, enjoy a meal together, and just generally relax.
It’s sort of like Sunday dinner with the family, only it’s Monday dinner with the urban tribe. Oh yeah, and we won, too.
I saw a posting on Craigslist yesterday for “BRAZILIAN HOUSECLEANING.”
All I could think was, “Is this some new housecleaning technology whereby you pour wax around the house, and when you pull it out all the dirt comes with it?”
Alas, it was just a posting for a Brazilian person who wants to work as a house cleaner. Damn.
Whilst out and about this weekend, Tom and I ran into more people than usual who asked us that standard question people ask newlyweds:
“So, how’s married life?”
I’m not sure what the expected response is. We’ve been married just over two months- I’m sure people don’t expect much detail about, um, the ways in which we spend our free time.
Do I tell them about how, although I thrash about and protest when Tom tickles me as I fall asleep, I’m actually enjoying the fact that he has the opportunity?
Or the ridiculous little things like the fact that we’re now in competition for the username “tbridge” on every service we both use? (Even funnier is when I am auto-assigned the username “bridget,” which I think I might adopt instead whenever it’s available.)
Or about high-fiving Tom at my cousin’s wedding when they called “all single ladies” to the dance floor for the bouquet toss?
Or having the elderly couple I sat next to in church telling me what a lovely voice my husband has and how much they enjoyed his offertory solo?
Or maybe about sitting on the couch, watching a Food Network promo about a dream wedding contest in which they ask, “Planning a wedding? Overcome with details?” We yell in reply, “Not anymore, SUCKERS!”
In the end, we just smile and answer, “It’s good. We’re very happy.” It’s not a particularly interesting answer, particularly considering that people who ask the question are just trying to make conversation.
But it’s accurate. We’re very happy.