Do I wake or sleep?

Last weekend was Griffin's birthday--he'd planned some kind of get together at the bar where he used to work, the invitation to which I hadn't responded but was planning to go. But I ended up playing a TON of soccer--90 minutes in the morning (and the rain) and another hour in the late afternoon. All good (and I scored 6 goals overall) but playing in the rain is murder on my horrible flat, bunioned feet. I texted him that I couldn't make it and said we'd hang out next weekend (i.e., this past WE). I have a like/hate relationships with those kids of large, casually-defined birthday hangouts anyway--I have found that *frequently* bill shenanigans occur. Last year Susan invited me and about 6-7 of her friends, none of whom I knew, to dinner at a not-cheap restraurant. I really couldn't affored to drop $60+ on dinner so I showed up for dessert. When the bill came around one of her friends looked me in the face and told me, in front of everyone, "yeah, we decided everyone's going to put in $17 extra for Susan's portion." I'm not exaggerating when I say I could feel the blood go out of my face. I was OUTRAGED. Do NOT--DO. NOT.-- *EVER* spend my money for me. The absolute, unmitigated HEIGHT of rudeness and presumptuousness. How DARE you put me on the spot like that, how DARE you assume I have that kind of extra money. I showed up for dessert only FOR A REASON. So this year when Susan invited me again, I was all "sorry, can't make it!"

So anyway Griff came over Friday night and we hung out--mostly at my apartment but I also wanted to try out a cute cocktail lounge a few blocks away which I LOVED. The owner came over and was asking me what I thought and I was showering praise on them. Great tapas and bar food, great (creative) cocktails that weren't ridiculously expensive, great atmosphere. I was worried it was going to be clubby but it wasn't at all. Griff stayed the night and we had breakfast at another local place with excellent coffee before going over to Cemtral Park to play softball. I have to say--I may have reached a certain saturation point with Griffin this weekend. I love him but he has this way--he absolutely refuses ever to admit he might be wrong, and he will hammer whatever point on which he feels defensive over and over. Where this usually comes out with him and me is gender issues. Last summer, he posted something pretty stupid, and frankly inflammatory about the whole Daniel Tosh debacle. It was sarcastic (he thought women who objected to what Tosh said were overreacting), it was dismissive and glib, it was really, really, really dumb. Just a few days after that he wanted to come to Hoboken to see the Pirates opening night and I emailed him and told him, as nicely as I could, "Anya and I are both pretty upset about what you wrote and I don't think it would be a good idea for you to come tonight." We ended up having this loooooong conversation about it that was actually quite frustrating--Griffin's fatal character trait is that he thinks his friends should know he "isn't like that." Griffin says stupid shit, espouses or enacts problematic ideas or behavior but then is stunned that his friends get mad. He thinks he's established enough of a track record as a friend that we shouldn't get mad. He kept telling me how "hurt" and "stunned" he was when I emailed him not to come and I kept turning it right around. "Well, now you know how Anya and I felt when we read your glib, sarcastic post on Facebook defending a guy who joked about gang rape in public and mocking the women who object to that comment." So then he didn't speak to me for six months. When he finally came around in February, he still went ON and ON about how hurt he was, how "I'm not that kind of guy!" and how hurt he was that he felt he was being smeared as a rape apologist and oh my Lord. You're the victim here, amirite? I let it pass--I really, really didn't feel like arguing all that AGAIN--but noted it. But I have to say, I don't even know what he learned from all that (meaning, the time we didn't speak). Guys like Grifffin cling so hard to this belief that there are two kinds of guys--rapist, asshole tools, and Good Guys. That's not how it works, kid. These beliefs operate along a spectrum, not a binary. When you let Tosh shit slide, when you don't call out your dudebro friends when they spout misogynistic jokkes or minimize rape--you're furthering those ideas. I know it's hard to rock the boat but you don't get a cookie for not actively being a dick. Racism and other isms work much the same way. I kept stressing over and over--hey, I have a lot to learn as well. Where you are with gender issues, I am to some extent with racial issues. Stop insisting you're the victim and just shut up and LISTEN.

So last weekend we had another exchange like that although this turned out slightly differently. At cocktails he'd brought up something that happened at Duncan's b-day bash at Marie's. He said to me at one point about all the "cute" girls who were there and I'd said well, don't hit on them here, a gay bar is kind of a safe place and girls don't necessarily appreciate or expect to be hit on there. Apparently this RANKLED. Two months later Griffin brings it up, I think mainly because he'd said this to other people, including Duncan, and he was worried it would get back to me :) Again, same objection--as a friend I should know him better than that, he wouldn't make them feel uncomfortable. He went on for awhile and I just let him talk and kind of tuned him out. Feel better now? The next day we're on our way to the breakfast place and he was talking about a voiceover audition he'd gone to--the holding room was also being used for a Coach runway show casting. Griffin had said he'd considered making this "self-deprecating" joke about how usually at voiceover auditions he was surrounded by a bunch of schlubby guys but today (obviously a reference to models). I was like--Griffin, that would not be a good idea. He *immediately* got defensive and started talking a LOT. I said first of all, any attractive woman *especially* one who's being sent on go-sees for runway shows, has heard it ALL before. She's heard it on the street, on the bus, on the subway, in the elevator--she's heard it, all the self-deprecating jokes, all the lame jokes, all of it. It's little more than static at this point. She probably doesn't want to hear it now, during an audition, when she's in her head, preparing for this. If she does--if she thinks you're cute or has her eye on you--the signals will be easy to read: she'll look up, she'll make eye contact, she'll smile. If no one in the room is looking up, I'd advise not making jokes and basically trying to get a reaction from them. Because I've been there before and frankly it's annoying as hell. He was talking with this long, elaborate explanation, this defense of why he *should* be allowed, why he had the *right* to do something like this, a response that basically showed how much he DIDN'T GET IT. I...well, I kind of exploded. I said "Griffin, why are you arguing with me about this? I don't get why you ask my feedback on these matters and when I tell you that's not a good idea, you never, ever accept it--you go ON AND ON AND ON AND ON AND ON about how you should be able to hit on women anywhere. I'm the expert! I'm the one who's been in this position--I can tell you what works! Why do you always get so defensive? Why can't you just listen? Just read the signals, that's what I'm saying!" He went DEAD silent--he's used to me just letting him go on but man...I kind of blew it off and was nice to him after that and after awhile he came around. Then Saturday of course he had to follow it up with a bunch of long explanatory texts and then Sunday in person he did the same thing again. DUDE, LET IT GO. For fuck's sake. Stop talking and let it go!

So--I love him but yeah, I reached my limit for a little while.

So the Vagina Monologues is over--we actually went up (and down) nearly 2 weeks ago. Unfortunately the last several days of it were overshadowed by a truly creepy experience. One of the women in the cast was a writer for the Jersey Journal, so she set up an interview with me and one of their other writers. The article came out the day before we opened, Friday the 26th. I went on to the website to check it out and saw--to my horror--a really creepy comment. Some guy had posted, saying it was disgusting, that I was unfit to direct The Vagina Monologues because this person had googled me, found my website and strongly disapproved of this clip (the second one down, "The Promise"). The guy said "I didn't know that being in a low-budget porn qualified you to direct The Vagina Monologues" and "Mayor Zimmer really dropped the ball on this one" and urging a BOYCOTT of the production. Also, he "was going to bring my daughter to this, as I approve of the pro-vaginal message" of TVM, but not now.

My blood ran cold. I was seriously, seriously freaked out for many reasons--uh, what the hell are you doing googling me? My website wasn't listed in the article. Second, I'm an ACTRESS, I played a PROSTITUTE. That happens. No, it wasn't real. That wasn't actually I--that was a character. Does this really need to be explained?! Third, what could possibly be more contrary to the message and spirit of TVM than to try to bully a woman out of the show because she played a character you don't like? The whole thing left me sickened--I was literally shaking.

Trish, one the the older actresses in the cast, had posted below this freak, ignoring what his comment and just saying what a great experience she'd had and how supportive and strong a director I was. I was shaking, and I tried to "report" the comment but our browsers at work are wonky so I was never sure if I was getting through. I checked the article a little later and both comments had been removed--in fact the entire article had been slightly rewritten. Interestingly in the first article I was quoted as saying "as a self-identifying feminist..." which I think is what triggered the guy. There is a certain kind of guy out there that is very, very threatened by even the word feminist. And by God he's gonna make the bitch pay for it. I frankly doubt he even has a daughter, much less one on whom he wanted to impress the "pro-vaginal" message of TVM. No one talks like that.

I saw Trish at rehearsal that night and talked about it with her, thanking her. Rehearsal went late that night--the process had been so compartmentalized (most of the pieces in TVM are single monologues, not group pieces) that the cast hadn't had any time to bond, so I'd had everyone bring in some wine or munchies or something, which loosened up everyone. But I did get out late! I got home well after midnight and was puttering around on the computer--I decided to check the article again. At about 2 am, the freak posted the exact same comment--the one that had been removed--again. I reported it again, and when I check Saturday morning, it had been removed.

Saturday afternoon. He posted it again. I reported it. Again. It's removed again.

Late Saturday night. He posted the same comment--the exact same comment that's now been removed three times--TWICE. And now he's escalating--he also posted a direct link to my website.

At this point, extremely upset that the Jersey Journal site hasn't banned this person, I email Summer (the cast member who'd originally set up the interview) and Dave, asking for help. Dave was horrified and said he was going to email the site directly as well. Summer said she'd seen the "disgusting" comments and had also reported them and was going to contact them directly. She also gave me a contact name/email, so I send off yet another email to this guy, John, asking them to please ban this obsessive poster who is slandering me.

I get back this email Sunday afternoon that starts off

"I think he's concerned about this video on your website--the one here [links to "The Promise"]...."

WHAT THE FUCK. Asshole, have you ever heard of the term "concern troll"? WHAT THE HELL does it matter what his "concerns" are? No one forced him to google me AND then go to my website! That has nothing to do with the article. Who set up this freak as the arbitrator of who is fit to direct TVM? I sent back this painfully restrained response saying "I'm an actor. I've played prostitutes. This happens in the industry. But that has nothing to do with: a) this production of TVM, or b) the fact that this loser posted the exact same slanderous comment FIVE TIMES and is now escalating by posting my website directly."

Jesus. I cannot believe I actually had to explain this to "John." I'm also frankly disappointed with Summer--I forwarded John's response to her and she kind of defended it, saying they didn't want to interfere with his right to free speech (bullshit, then why bother deleting his comments in the first place) and how my website was "public" (so? The point is it wasn't mentioned in the article, and the guy is trying to get me fired). It's not about free speech. It's about whether or not you want your forum to be abused by a fucking psycho. Five times? The exact same virulent, angry, slanderous comment that was deleted before--five times?

So I will never do another interview with the Jersey Journal. Not if it means they won't do shit to stop neckbeards from typing out shitty pathetic slanderous posts over and over and over. I've been checking that article ever since that weekend--every day I check it just to make sure. Thanks for looking out for me, "John"! A real boon to the community, you are.

The sad thing is I actually had a great time directing the show, and we did VERY well. More about that later. But God forbid a bunch of women put on a pro-woman show--nope, some fucking basement dwelling loser gotta shit all over that. Can't have that.

Fantastic softball game yesterday.

My friend Eric has a softball game every year, and this is the third year I've played in it (in 2009, we did it for four weeks in a row--so much fun! Wish we would do it again...) Yesterday was this year's game, rescheduled after Irene. A few weeks ago Eric and I were talking about the game, and I begged him to find a way not to stick me with Annoying Person Who Insists On Playing First. He decided to make me one of the captains, and as it turned out Tamara, another of his friends, was the other one. (And also as it turned out, Annoying Person wasn't even there yesterday. Crisis averted.)

There were actually not too many people there--in the end we had only about 12-13 people. One of the players, a red-headed guy who'd brought a friend and both were very good players, came up with the idea of 3 teams of 4 people each. (This is done sometimes--how it works is that two teams are in the field while the third one bats, and you rotate in and out. When the batting team gets their third out, they take the place of one of the teams in the field.) Red-Headed Dude explains it to the people who'd never played before and then says "so I'll be a captain, Dave can be a captain, and (Some Other Male Name) can be a captain." I was PISSED. Dude. You are new here. This isn't your game, this is Eric's. And he already has captains. FEMALE ONES. Obviously you just didn't even see us which I get from asshole male athletes like you all the time. STFU and sit down.

Eric comes in, it's explained to him what we're doing and Eric keeps me as captain. I guess Tamara didn't particularly want to be captain, so he chose two other ones. I chose Dave, a guy named Hughie who's played with us several times before, and Tamara. Eric asked us what our team name was and I was thinking, Balls to the Wall--no, that's not appropriate, how about Ovaries to the Wall? The guys on my team loved the name and totally embraced it.

Now, the best part--We. SMOKED. Them. Absolutely blew them away, and from the beginning--in our first inning at bat, we scored five runs. The final score was 3-4-13. We didn't even have any heavy hitters, we just got on base and then kept batting each other in. And our fielding was great as well--Hughie asked me where I wanted people to play and initially I put him at short and then said "no, you should be at third, you have a better arm than I do. I'll play short." And in one inning, I made all three outs! Eric accused me of padding the stats ;) I was chatting throughout, telling Tamara when to run ("it's two outs, run on anything"), talking through what's next ("play is to second, let's try for two") and reminding them not to get complacent toward the end, that's how you lose games. A huge factor in athletic success is hustle--being sharp and on top of things, reminding yourself of your goal, and not taking success for granted. Being hungry.

We were all chanting "O-va-RIES! O-va-RIES!" afterward. And Eric awarded the Rossignol Least Embarrassing Player trophy (a tradition with this game) to me, calling me a "spark plug" who reminds everyone why they're there. Aw! The trophy is a decorated empty bottle of malt liquor--I told Eric this is probably the first time a bottle of malt liquor has ever been in my apartment!

Afterward we all went out to Brother Jimmy'z, and we talked a little bit about 9-11. It has hit me much harder than I thought it would, and that's all I'll say about that for right now. When I went home, Anya joined me for karaoke at the Piper's Kilt, and Eric, Tamara and some of the other players joined us later. One of the players was talking to me about how I played, how he "liked my spark" and competitiveness, etc., and how good a singer he thought I was. I think I was kind of oblivious at the time, but now I realize he was probably hitting on me! At any rate, he bought me a beer at the bar after the karaoke had closed down, and another guy sitting at the bar joined our conversation and then things got very weird. The player and I were talking about language--he's a comedian like Eric is--and the guy (who was drunk, BTW) started talking about how "I use [N-word], I'm cool with [N-word], I love [N-word]." I was stunned and really, seriously creeped out. I said "uh, I am not at all comfortable with this conversation" and the guy was all "people use this word all the time" and I said "that's a really complicated matter and I don't feel like discussing that right now, but at the very least, that is a contextual thing, and as 3 white people, we do not have the appropriate context to throw around that word." The guy said "I'm part-Puerto Rican!" (I am not at all sure what that has to do with ANYTHING.) I said "whatever, I can't be part of this conversation." As I walked away, frankly quite shook up, the guy was accusing me of CENSORSHIP!

One time, a long time ago, a Nice Guy wrote into Dan Savage in the Voice--a loooong diatribe about how he was Nice but he never got any action and no girl was ever interested in him and blah blah blah, entitlement-cakes. Note that nowhere in the letter did the guy talk about wanting to share his life with someone, about wanting to "traverse the fall line of our aloneness" (in Diane Chambers's memorable phraseology from the Cheers episode where she and Sam first hook up--God, I remember that entire script! Hilarious!)--nothing that indicated he saw women as human beings with agency. No, he wanted to get some. Well, that problem is easily solvable--go to a prostitute. Oooooh, you want free sex? A relationship? (Although, frankly, it doesn't sounds as though he wants a relationship, because that would mean seeing women as human beings with agency, instead of lying bitches who won't accommodate you). Well, then you have to charm the woman, don't you? She has to want to have sex with you. So you need to improve your game. Don't get mad because she's not responding--she has every right not to find you attractive, not to be interested. Every woman has that right. Life gives you no guarantees about relationships, sex, anything like that. (And the madder you get, the more pathetic you look--see below. If you want to have a connection, find a way to appeal to her, up your game--ideally of course by treating her as an intelligent human being. And if you've indicated your interest and she doesn't find you attractive, accept it gracefully and move on.

And as someone wrote back "LAS sounds crazy, desperate, and driven by rage. That is not any woman's idea of sexy. That he calls all women 'inherently self-destructive, lying, shallow whores' suggests that LAS is a guy with some issues about women. Frankly, LAS sounds like he'd rather chop me up into bite-size pieces and store me in his freezer than fuck me. I would strongly recommend 'Lonely and Suicidal' get himself laid somehow, even if he has to pay for it. Like halitosis, the stench of desperation is obvious to everyone around him, even if he can't smell it. After LAS finds a hooker, he should forgive his mother, and drop his pathetic 'I haven't been laid in four years' schtick." I wrote to Dan (although the letter did not get picked for publication) "Newsflash--you may NEVER again get laid. It's not in the Constitution, you know. You need to make your peace with that and stop blaming women for not finding you sexy."

See, what Nice Guys don't understand is the appeal of [Nice-Guy-styled] assholes. (Frankly, to some Nice Guys, an asshole is anyone who gets more action than he does.) It's not that women like Assholes as such, or particularly want to have someone dismiss their feelings. But at the same time there's something very refreshing about not having to deal with The Whining. If an Asshole hurts you, you can get the hell out of Dodge City. Your feelings might be hurt, and the damage might be bad but at least you're out of there. And you avoid that intensely annoying experience when you're forced to fend off a Nice Guy months later, who's been nursing a grudge about "that time you totally ignored me when you saw me at that party." (It's always about being ignored with Nice Guys--they have this whole game of social Battleship mapped out in their heads where people at parties are always sweeping past each other majestically, like ships in the night. This is similar to the Angry Guy, who also seems to be ignored a lot.)

( BOY, do I speak from experience )

The thing is--he was interested, obviously, but he didn't want to come right out and say so, because then he risked rejection. He was doing the "hopeful signals" strategy. Okay, that's fine, it can be tough to put yourself completely on the line--there's no shame in just sending out signals to see if she responds. But when the woman correctly reads your signals and 1) doesn't respond (which IS a response), or 2) gently alludes to the fact that this will not happen, don't get pissy and coy with her. "I was never interested in you, why would you think that?" clutching his pearls coyly. Oh bullshit, BOB, you were too. You made a play, it didn't pan out, man up and move on. Stop trying to preserve your fragile ego by putting the blame on the woman for some last-minute, trumped up transgression--every one knows what you're really blaming her for is not finding you attractive.

Coda to the New Year's Eve party--I DID have lots of champagne (FINALLY) and ended up flirting quite a bit with an ex-boyfriend of mine (Joni, you remember Marcus? He's on Facebook now, BTW) and THAT started up again for a few months. *smug smile* The Mean Girl part of me hopes that "Bob" saw us lingering at the door and making out. :->

The kicker is that a little over a year later, Joni and I were doing a show together, The Boyfriend, and he came to see it. By that time he and I would play the occasional game of tennis together. He came to see the show, brought me a full bouquet of flowers and included a note card on which he had covered every inch with a long, personal note about how much our "friendship" meant to him and how much he valued it. I mean, every. square. inch. was covered. I remember popping it open to another castmate, Jill, who knew the whole story, and her eyes got very big--"Oh my God, that took effort!" I said "I know, right?!"

There's even more to the story, but it doesn't involve me. Suffice it to say, Bob didn't really learn from this episode.

Had an annoying experience Saturday morning. Preparatory to leaving for rehearsal, I was walking downstairs with a bag of recyclables in my hand, to leave in the trash alley next to the building. I had my iPod shuffle on, although it was not very loud. As I approached the front doors, I passed by the mailman who was facing the wall at one of the panels with the apartments listed. I heard him say something but didn't pay attention, assuming he was trying to buzz someone. I'm almost at the door and I hear a noise behind me--finally I turn around and the mailman is facing me, saying something. I take my earphones out and he's saying "Hel-lo-o? Como es-ta?" in, frankly, an inappropriate tone, as though he were annoyed. I kind of shook my head, and say "Sorry? What's going on? Do you have a package for me?" Once he saw that I'd had the earphones on he said "Ah, ok-kay--what, you don't want to say hello to your mailman?" Again, I shook my head, like "Huh? What is this?" He saw that I wasn't playing along and tried again, saying "what apartment do you live in? Are you home during the day?" I paused and said "sometimes...?" He was trying to sound more important, saying "see, sometimes I might have a package and if I can't reach you, then you have to pick it up at the post office." WhatEVER--what a loser! Who cares? Unless I'm expecting someone, I do not answer the door--there's always someone who wants to be buzzed in and I don't feel like dealing with it so I guess any packages we get, we'll have to pick up at the post office which is a whole three minutes away!

First off, the guy was facing away from me--I had no idea he was talking to me in the first place, and I could hardly hear him in any case. Second, if you say hello to someone and for whatever reason they don't want to say hello back or don't respond, the polite thing to do is smile, or not, and MOVE ON. You don't track them down and start dishing attitude with "hel-lo, como es-ta?" How pathetic are you, running after a woman who's listening to her iPod and getting all pissy because she didn't hear you say hello? And even if she did, she has a right not to respond. This is the city, people have different levels of comfortable social interaction. You do not try to FORCE someone to say hello, you cannot force someone to be sociable. What a loser! There is a certain kind of self-important guy that really does think he can force a hello out of you--I run into that with the building where my dentist is, one of the doormen gets very pissy if you don't chitchat with him. I'm not your girlfriend, or your friend. I don't know you, and I don't owe you friendliness. And I think it's likely that if I were 80 years old, there would be a lot less attitude from you about whether or not I say hello. So this isn't about neighborliness--it's about the blonde who you think is ignoring you, and your ego can't take that.

I exited the building, putting my earphones back in and dumped the recyclables and when I came back up out of the alley, Annoying Mailman was there on the sidewalk, asking me something again. Again, I took out my earphones and he repeated "do you think the fire station is open?" (We have a firehouse next to us.) Again, I gave him this "What the hell?" look and said "uh, I guess so...?" He said "see, you got to know that I joke around like that--I'm always joking with my customers, the firehouse is always open..." I paused and gave him this very baffled expression, kind of shook my head, and moved away. Stop trying to force me to engage with you! Just let me go on about my day, for God's sake.

If I see him again, the earphones stay on, and I'll just pretend I don't see him.

I've been thinking about the choice of Palin this weekend. I had very mixed feelings at first--I desperately want a woman in the Oval Office. I want to see myself reflected up there. No offense to my many white male friends :) but I'm tired of the same type of people getting elected to positions of power. I'm tired of the message being sent, over and over--you don't belong here. You are not welcome here. And yes, when you never see yourself up there, that IS the message. At the same time, you certainly don't vote based on identity alone--you vote on the issues. But I won't deny, the identity is getting more and more important when more than 20 years after Geraldine Ferraro got the VP nom, we STILL haven't had a woman VP or President, or even a shot at one. STILL. India has had a head of state before the US has. I was very disappointed that Hillary, whom I love, did not get the nomination but with Obama--well, okay, we're still making history, a new path is being forged, that's good too.

Then the news on Friday. I was stunned, and at first, very impressed. No matter who wins, history will be made. We could have a woman in the Office! I figured she was probably conservative but I will admit, the allure of having a woman in that VP slot was pretty strong. Then I did some research on her stances on the issues. She's very pro-life--calls herself a "Feminist for Life." Uh, no. You cannot call yourself a feminist if you would force me to have a baby if I'm raped. No. If I get raped and a pregnancy results, the FIRST thing I'm doing is getting an abortion. You do not get to tell me what to do with my body. Full stop. She was coy on creationism being taught in schools (the fact that this is EVEN AN ISSUE in this country makes my teeth hurt. Creationism is for CHURCH!!!! It is not science!)--she wanted both to be "discussed," framing it as "don't be afraid of information." Gu-whuh? Creationism is not information. It is an attempt to explain how we came into being with no way to test it. Which is why it's religion and NOT SCIENCE. And she doesn't think global warming is man-made. Which is just silly and ignorant.

And with this whole pregnant-teenage-daughter thing--well, it illustrates how silly the abstinence-only dogma she promotes. And finally, if you're trying to pass laws that invade my privacy, you'd better be prepared for your family's privacy to be invaded. Someone commented on the NYTimes site: "Family decisions are a private matter for most people, but they should not be private for someone who has no respect for the decisions of other families. Because Governor Palin wants to use the power of the government to force all women to be just like her, voters should be entitled to examine Governor Palin's family life to view the consequences of her policies regarding reproductive rights." Yup.

Somebody posted:

I don't think I can adequately express how much I hate reader comments, though. In my opinion, *that* is the story (and I'll read that Traister article as soon as I get a chance.) The mob mentality. The sheer unadulterated viciousness. I just absolutely hate it. I was reading a story on a newspaper website about a 29-year-old reporter who killed himself. Wouldn't you know that one of the first comments, like maybe within the first five, was someone talking about what an asshole coward he was?

This is why I really hold back on the piling on of the likes of Linday Lohan and Paris Hilton. The sheer nastiness that pervades so much public discourse now is poisonous and it bothers me. It really bothers me. I posted in reply:

I subscribe to New York Magazine which stopped running LTTE, which I really miss. I thoroughly enjoy a well-crafted LTTE; it's like a brief or a thesis to me, how can you argue your point elegantly? I've had a few LTTE printed myself and I've always been proud of that; now New York Magazine reports on the Comments section with quotations and summaries. Most of the comments are interesting--they must moderate it--but some of them make me sad. They had an article a couple of issues ago about a 15-year-old Russian girl whose millionaire father is pushing her as a fashion brand--her particular style is the basis for a chain. The girl was like any other 15-year-old--a little dizzy, naive, sweet, obsessed with pink, there was nothing objectionable about her. Some of the comments were pretty critical though and it just struck me as hitting a mosquito with a mallet. I mean, what is the point of saying nasty things about her nose? Or calling her a bimbo? She's just a kid. It's mean. She seemed very sweet nonetheless, and I just hoped she wasn't reading the comments.

Why is there so much gratuitous shittiness? So much pointless viciousness and tearing down? Why is so much of it directed toward women, and so much of it from women? Why are women so hard on starlets and why is appearance picked apart so badly? Why are women so proud of disliking other women and seem so eager to say "my best friends are all men" and "other women dislike me"? Why is it when a man cheats, he gets off easy and the "other woman" gets called a whore--and why are women so quick to use that term anyway? Why do women on the red carpet get slammed for the stupidest of things (again, usually by other women), but the men can show up in almost anything? Why is it no matter what weight a female celebrity is, it's the wrong one? Why do Paris and Lindsay get so much more attention of all kinds, but overwhelmingly negative kind, from the press? I mean, who are we kidding, there are tons of male stars out there who act just as foolishly (hello, Robert Iler, Charlie Sheen)--why do the women get so much more attention? Why did the media swarm all over Janet Jackson in the aftermath of the wardrobe malfunction, but leave Justin Timberlake mostly alone? It just all sickens me. People really depress me sometimes.

I'm glad I went to a women's college where female friendships were the norm, and not something to disavow. I'm glad that my mother and stepmother modeled healthy female friendships for me, and didn't habitually tear down other women. Sometimes I think I grew up in a charmed environment--I wasn't prepared for how nasty some women can habitually be to other women, how pointlessly competitive. I don't think it's the default setting (and it annoys me when people assume it is, "ooh, all women are catty"), but it's certainly assumed to be.

Last week I bought the Season 1 & 2 DVDs of The Facts of Life (the TV show)--they FINALLY released it. Yay! This show was one of my big favorites during my early adolescence (I lost interest a bit after they entered the "Over Our Heads" years--couldn't stand those nasty '80s mullets all of them seemed to have). My favorite season was the first, which was very different from the other--the show had seven main girls instead of four, and they lived in a dormitory where Mrs. Garret was the house mother. There were a LOT of blondes, including my favorite, Blair. She's remembered as the snobby rich girl, but her character was a lot wilder--she dated a LOT, and even had to fight off an older guy in a van on one date. She was in a clique where the girls--*gasp*--smoked pot. The best was when Blair ever so delicately hinted that Cindy, the tomboy who played baseball and ran track, might be gay. "You're really WEIRD with all that HUGGING and 'I love you'--you'd just better be CAREFUL." Even at the tender of age of 11, I knew what she meant--that was eye-opening stuff for that era! Especially coming from a Mousketeer (Lisa Whelchel and one of the other girls, Julie Piekarski, had both been on the '70s-era The New Mickey Mouse Club which I also watched religiously with my BF Beth. We even choreographed our own dances in the back yard. "Hurry, hurry grab a seat/This is to the rhythm of the Mouse-ka-beat/We're gonna sing/We're gonna shout/We're gonna show you what it's all about/It's Showtime...with the Mouseketeers." I ADORED all those disco-tastic color-coordinated jumpsuits they had on).

Molly Ringwald was also in the first season, and Julie Anne Haddock (who'd played the youngest daughter in The Great Santini) played Cindy, the afore-mentioned lesbionic athlete. And if anyone remembers that classic '80s cheese-fest, Zapped!, Felice Schachter was also a regular cast member. After the first season, though, the long knives came out and they fired four of the girls (Molly, Julie Piekarksi, Julie Anne Haddock and Felice) and then hired Nancy McKeon to play Jo, the tough-as-nails biker from the Bronx who fought with Blair at every opportunity. The show became different--and, I must admit, better-written. The smaller focus lent itself to better character development, and there were some genuinely sweet moments between the girls, as when Blair goes after a family friend--a teenage boy who attends the school down the road--who asked Jo to a dance but instead, took her out on the 9th green to pressure her for sex, saying later to Blair, "c'mon, she's that kind of girl..." I love it that her sense of sisterhood--and she and Jo were arch-rivals--was stronger than her desire to feel appreciated by the guy (and of course she also recognizes what he's saying is an insult to all women). Interestingly, after sacking all those girls, they still used them for featured guest roles and under 5s, which couldn't have been easy for the fired girls.

I've been sleeping on the living room floor since last week, and just leaving the blankets on the floor folded up. I got home Friday night and just curled into bed, as it were, and watched one of the two DVDs I'd rented, Legally Blonde. As I'm sure everyone here already knows, a thoroughly delightful movie. I loved it. DVDs are so wonderful; I really enjoy the audio commentary tracks. The LB DVD is packed with extras, including tracks with commentary by the director and Reese Witherspoon, and another track with commentary by the screenwriters. I didn't get to watch the latter, sadly, but I did watch the RW track. One comment I loved was when she said a theme of the movie was female camaraderie. Yes! Love that! Thank you for not playing into the tired stereotype that all women hate each other and our default settings are "catty." I love the scene when Vivian comes into Elle's room and Elle introduces her to Bruiser. The changing relationship between those two was fascinating to watch. I also liked how they didn't focus on her romance with Emmet (played by the always-appealing Luke Wilson--ever since his X Files episode, I've been hot for him), and was interested to see that's one thing a couple of reviewers criticized. The trivia track was fascinating as well--apparently more women end relationships than men. Hee hee.

Saturday was a beauty day. I got my hair cut, got my legs and bikini area waxed, got a pedicure and a fill-in. I managed to fit in a nap somewhere there, around 3:30, when the storm hit. Saturday night I watched the other DVD, The Princess Diaries. Umm...sort of meh. Mildly enjoyable, not as engaging as I'd hoped. Saved by some great performances by Anne Hathaway, Heather Matarazzo and the mother, but the corn factor was a bit much. Very Disney, and not really in a good way. But again, Anne Hathaway was just a delight to watch. My favorite thing she did was at the end when she's all dolled up at the ball looking soigne in this beautiful gown with her hair up, and she's dancing the robot dance all serious, reverting for a second to the geek she is underneath. I loved that bit. Truly hilarious, and in character as well.

And--after my motorcycle class on Sunday, after I passed the test and was leaving, Dan, one of my teachers, asked me out. I was completely caught off guard and reflexively blew him off. I thought about it and decided to send him a note, thanking him for the class and giving him my phone number. We ended up going out last night. I enjoyed myself...not sure about the chemistry but I had a good time. But--the guy is 50. What is it about the 50 year old men that are drawn to me? Because I know I don't look 35 and the whole thing is just...odd.

Anyway, yesterday during the day, I finally got off my ass and went downtown to the Lower East Side Tenement Museum. I've been meaning to go for awhile now and finally did it. Y'all, this museum kicks. Butt. It's so interesting. They recreate how immigrant families lived in these tiny railroad apartments. When you walk in there's so little light, and the stairs are so tiny. I just love it that these buildings still exist here so we can explore them--NYC is full of such history, every building is so old, and has so many stories. I went on the "Getting By" tour, that showed an apartment from the 1870s that housed a German Jewish family, and one from the 1920s that housed a Sicilian-Roman Catholic family. So, so interesting. I want to go back and see some of the other tours now.