Beware the Edibles

Don't eat the cookie, Alice.For the record, I’m not totally inexperienced when it comes to marijuana. Since I first tried it,1 I’ve smoked very occasionally, I guess you could say. I might go years without having any and I might have some a few times in a month. I’ll have some if it’s around but I don’t seek it out and I’ve never bought any myself.

When I was pregnant, a former neighbor came by one day and gave us a few weed cookies. “Be careful,” he told us, but Ben was all yeah whatever beanpole teenager.

We put them in the freezer, where they stayed for maybe a year. One day, Ben ate two of them and made onion soup. He said he was pretty messed up but he was able to function.

On July 2, 2010, I ate one of these weed cookies before we went to the Rockies game. The actual cookie is pictured at right, for some reason on an issue of Westword. As you can see, the cookie isn’t particularly large or anything. It tasted like what eating marijuana in Russia might taste like (this isn’t a bad thing).

I sat around and waited for something to happen. Nothing much did until we got out of the car and were walking to Coors Field. All of a sudden I was all what and whoa and whattheeverlovingfuck. I wasn’t quite sure how I was able to walk and it was kind of like being afraid of flying, such that if you fail to believe this giant, heavy, metal thing is capable of soaring through the air it’ll come crashing to the ground. So you believe you can use your legs to get from one place to another and you do, but the whole time you’re doing it you’re increasingly paranoid that the people you pass: (1) can tell you’re totally fucked up; (2) are able to discern something deeply wrong and troubled with you; (3) can see inside your brain and know your very thoughts.2 The police officers you pass are especially problematic.

This was also the only time we’ve ever had club-level seats at Coors Field. From what I can piece together from the shards of memory lying in the back alleys of my mind, this was magnificent — long, well-lit, glowing hallways filled with the kind of people who would not result in fans of your team being included in a “Top-10 Ugliest Baseball Fans” list. Shiny floors. I think there were windows? Air conditioning? The ability to fly.

The fact that I made it to our seats was monumental. I sat in one seat and Ben and Soren sat in the other. I was completely lacking in any ability to interact with a child. This made me feel deeply guilty, which is really saying something because I’m generally not one for guilt. I had no idea weed could fuck you up this much. No idea.

While I sat in my seat at Coors Field, bathed in a cold sweat, I engaged in the type of bargaining you might do when you’re in a dire situation from which you might not escape alive. I’ll be a better person. I’ll do more volunteer work. I’ll stop making fun of people on the internet. Just let me get through this.

Eventually I became incapable of even this relatively simple thought process. I tried to watch the game but couldn’t tell where I ended and the game began and didn’t really understand what the game was. I felt like Dock Ellis and the LSD no-hitter only not nearly as awesome:

The ball was small sometimes, the ball was large sometimes, sometimes I saw the catcher, sometimes I didn’t. Sometimes I tried to stare the hitter down and throw while I was looking at him. I chewed my gum until it turned to powder. They say I had about three to four fielding chances. I remember diving out of the way of a ball I thought was a line drive. I jumped, but the ball wasn’t hit hard and never reached me.3

Then I realized I had to go back in time so I could learn how to think again. I melted into my chair. I picked at some french fries Ben insisted I eat. I said, “No, I can’t” every time he suggested we get up and walk around. Aside from that, I didn’t move. I worried about what would happen after the game ended and the fireworks were over and I’d have to get up. First I was afraid. Then I was petrified.

From our seats, you could see the right 1/3 of the fireworks. Ben took Soren to a spot where there was a better view and I stayed in my seat and watched 1/3 of the fireworks as best I could. By the time we left the game, I think I was feeling a little better and at least marginally able to function. I got home without incident.

This experience was absolutely nothing even remotely like what happens when you smoke weed. I don’t imagine that it was a typical edible experience, but I have to say I’m probably not going to try pot brownies any time soon. I don’t know if it was these particular cookies (Ben agrees that they were pretty jacked but they didn’t mess him up nearly as much), the length of time they spent in the freezer (not sure how this could have any effect on anything), or what. That said, if I had any advice to someone about to try marijuana for the first time: beware the edibles.
_______
Notes
1. The first illegal drug I ever tried was LSD, also junior year of college. I did that maybe 5 times, all during college. I don’t know how you go about finding a reliable LSD source these days but I have to say I kind of recommend that everybody try it at least once.
2. Since medical marijuana became available in Colorado, I’ve never gotten that weird paranoid feeling you sometimes get after smoking weed, where it’s like everybody is talking and all of a sudden there’s silence and whatever you just said was the most awkward, ridiculous, and loud — very loud — thing anyone has ever said. In my non-expert opinion, the greatly increased quality of marijuana has eliminated that unpleasant side effect.
3. See www.snopes.com/sports/baseball/ellis.asp.

WTF Wednesday: More Pictures, Please

I’ve decided to become a person who posts more pictures of herself on the internet.1 Just what the world needs!

This is a dumb idea and I’ll probably give up on it after realizing that I look like some sort of fundamentalist who lives in the boonies and homeschools her 12 children (not that there’s anything wrong with that).2 But the thing is, I’ve realized that I like when bloggers post pictures of themselves. Wait, let me qualify. I don’t want to see your post-workout sweat. All due respect,3 I don’t want to see you in your bathtub. I don’t want to see 827 painstakingly overdone closeups of each element of your outfit. But in general, if you have a blog, I want to see you sometimes. Why? I don’t know. Maybe for the same reason I like looking in everybody’s windows when I’m outside and it’s getting dark. That sounds totally creepy, but doesn’t everybody do that? I mean, I don’t want to see you in your underwear or anything. I guess I like getting a little glimpse of people’s lives, whether it’s through pictures or a little glance at their living rooms. And if I’m reading your blog, obviously I want a little glimpse of your life in particular, and I guess I like when people do that with pictures in addition to words.

I look like a hipster hairball that was puked up by a hipster cat.

Aside from needing a haircut, the problem is that I generally have designs on looking decent that fail to materialize when I wait until the last minute to get ready to go anywhere and end up looking like a hipster hairball that was vomited up by a hipster cat. (In my defense, we were going to a baseball game, where it is reasonable to represent for your super-awesome team that happens to be in first place (Go Sox!!) and you could tell it was going to rain, like, the whole time, so the least you can do is wear a hat in a futile effort to prevent your glasses from getting wet.) Soren and I ducked into the restroom to grab some paper towels to dry our seats (sorry, trees) to avoid unsightly butt wetness. Nobody else was in there. I put my beer on the counter and said, “Soren. Let me take a picture of how ridiculous I look.”4

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m a big fan of taking pictures of myself in the bathroom, because I guess I find that less weird than letting anybody see me take pictures of myself or asking anyone (i.e., Ben5) to take pictures of me. In an effort to perform a full Monty of hipsterdom, I had to use Instagram. And the result was, as you see, nothing special and not really worth posting, but whatever. I’m on a mission.

Okay, so I need a better mission. Maybe I should finally learn to crochet.
_______
Notes
1. I will never, ever, ever refer to these as “selfies.” Just typing that word out to tell you I’ll never use it has resulted in existential angst.
2. I need a haircut.
3. This is generally code for “Hey asshole.”
4. I’m not one of those “OMG the children of bloggers are going to end up damaged and in need of continuous therapy beginning in the early teen years and continuing even after they Salinger themselves into isolation in a desperate attempt to reclaim the privacy and personal boundaries so cruelly taken from them at a young age” curmudgeons, but objectively speaking, this is probably kind of weird.
5. Ben is many things, almost all of them awesome, but he is not a photographer or particularly patient with people hell-bent on doing stupid, self-indulgent stuff.

Homeless People Now Illegal in Denver

I don’t usually write about political stuff here, but the latest development in Denver has me so steaming mad I have to today. First of all, the civil unions bill was killed last night, which is gross. But what I want to talk about now is the fact that Denver pretty much made homeless people illegal.

I apologize in advance for how long this is going to be. In an effort to keep things as short as possible, here are some links where you can get more information about what’s going on, including a link to a pdf of the draft ordinance:

Here is the draft version of the ordinance:

Sec. 38-86.1. – Unauthorized camping on public or private property prohibited.
(a) It shall be unlawful for any person to camp upon any private property without the express written consent of the property owner or the owner’s agent, and only in such locations where camping may be conducted in accordance with any other applicable city law.
(b) It shall be unlawful for any person to camp upon any public property except in any location where camping has been expressly allowed by the officer or agency having the control, management and supervision of the public property in question.
(c) No law enforcement officer shall issue a citation, make an arrest or otherwise enforce this section against any person unless:
(1) The officer orally requests or orders the person to refrain from the alleged violation of this section and, if the person fails to comply after receiving the oral request or order, the officer tenders a written request or order to the person warning that if the person fails to comply the person may be cited or arrested for a violation of this section; and
(2) The officer attempts to ascertain whether the person is in need of medical or human services assistance, including but not limited to mental health treatment, drug or alcohol rehabilitation, or homeless services assistance. If the officer determines that the person may be in need of medical or human services assistance, the officer shall make reasonable efforts to contact and obtain the assistance of a designated human service outreach worker, who in turn shall assess the needs of the person and, if warranted, direct the person to an appropriate provider of medical or human services assistance in lieu of the person being cited or arrested for a violation of this section. If the officer is unable to obtain the assistance of a human services outreach worker, if the human services outreach worker determines that the person is not in need of medical or human services assistance, or if the person refuses to cooperate with the direction of the human services outreach worker, the officer may proceed to cite or arrest the person for a violation of this section so long as the warnings required by paragraph (1) of this subsection have been previously given.
(d) For purposes of this section:
(1) “Camp” means to reside or dwell temporarily in a place, with shelter, and conduct activities of daily living such as eating, sleeping or the storage of personal possessions in such place. The term “shelter” includes, without limitation, any tent, tarpaulin, lean-to, sleeping bag, bedroll, blankets, or any form of cover or protection from the elements other than clothing.
(2) “Designated human service outreach worker” shall mean any person designated in writing by the manager of the Denver Department of Human Services to assist law enforcement officers as provided in subsection (c), regardless of whether the person is an employee of the department of human services.
(3) “Public property” means, by way of illustration, any street, alley, sidewalk, pedestrian or transit mall, bike path, greenway, or any other structure or area encompassed within the public right-of-way; any park, parkway, mountain park, or other recreation facility; or any other grounds, buildings, or other facilities owned or leased by the City or by any other public owner, regardless of whether such public property is vacant or occupied and actively used for any public purpose.

My main problem here is that the law, as it currently stands (with no additional resources added to the Denver community as a result of the law) does nothing to solve the problem of homelessness. It just says Denver doesn’t want to deal with homeless people other than to allow for their arrest if the police feel like it.

A Hypothetical

The law is also, if I can be blunt (and I can), a stupid law. Let’s say a police officer finds a homeless guy (we’ll call him Ralph) sleeping on the 16th Street Mall at 2:00 a.m. Here’s what the ordinance says should happen. First, the officer orally tells Ralph to stop being homeless on the 16th Street Mall. I suppose Ralph could comply in one of two ways — he could magically obtain a home on the spot, or he could leave the 16th Street Mall and go be homeless somewhere else. Option 1 is impossible and option 2 doesn’t solve the problem because Ralph is still homeless. If he fails to comply, the officer gives him something in writing telling him that if he fails to comply, he may be cited or arrested. This is great because we totally need to use more paper, and if someone didn’t magically obtain a home on the spot or go be homeless somewhere else when verbally requested to do so, I’m sure receiving the same request in written form will make all the difference.

Then the real fun begins. The officer gets to “attempt[] to ascertain whether the person is in need of medical or human services assistance, including but not limited to mental health treatment, drug or alcohol rehabilitation, or homeless services assistance.” Before continuing with our hypothetical, I have some questions. Why does the officer just have to attempt? Shouldn’t she have to actually ascertain? What standards does she use when attempting to ascertain whether Ralph needs medical or human services assistance? Why doesn’t the ordinance provide these standards? Will there be standards (If so, who makes them?), or does an officer just get to use her own judgment? By the way, I hope serious crimes aren’t happening while this attempt to ascertain business is going on, because this ordinance doesn’t provide extra funding to the police to help with the extra work they’re going to have.

So, let’s say the officer determines that Ralph may be in need of human services assistance. Now she “shall make reasonable efforts to contact and obtain the assistance of a designated human service outreach worker.” What are reasonable efforts? Assuming she, through reasonable efforts, contacts a designated human service outreach worker, that worker “shall assess the needs of the person and, if warranted, direct the person to an appropriate provider of medical or human services assistance in lieu of the person being cited or arrested for a violation of this section.” How, exactly, does that work? Let’s call our designated human service outreach worker Bob, because that’s fewer letters. Does Bob make this assessment based only on what the officer tells him? Does the cop say, hey, Ralph, come use my phone so you can talk to Bob so Bob can assess your needs? Does the cop take Ralph to wherever Bob works so Ralph can stand in line with all the other homeless people who have been rounded up that night? How much time does this take? If Bob determines that Ralph needs human service assistance and directs him to an appropriate provider of human service assistance, does Ralph have to go right then even though the provider probably isn’t open in the middle of the night? While waiting at the door, will Ralph be approached by police and told to stop being homeless again, or does Ralph get a free pass for the rest of that night?

Now, let’s say our officer is unable to obtain the assistance of Bob or any other human service outreach workers. (How many human service outreach workers are working in the middle of the night in Denver every day? I assume [just kidding, I don't really] there are several, because this ordinance does not provide for additional human service outreach workers.) Let’s say Bob is in the bathroom and doesn’t answer his phone, and any other human service outreach workers are busy with other homeless people. In that case, the officer is free to arrest Ralph. Yay, Ralph goes to jail. This is great because Denver is rolling in extra tax dollars and jail space. If Bob determines that Ralph is not in need of medical or human service assistance, or Ralph refuses to cooperate with what Bob tells him to do, Ralph can be arrested. This is great for the reasons listed above.

I think it’s fair to interpret this ordinance as making homeless people illegal in Denver (compliance requires one to stop being homeless or leave the city or, I suppose if you want to get technical, sleeping outside with no shelter other than the clothes you’re wearing and no possessions you couldn’t store on your body, which would be dangerous in the winter and pretty much impossible), which I think is completely disgusting. I also think it’s unfair to require homeless people to sleep in shelters. And it’s ridiculous to have this law on the books while there is not nearly enough shelter space for the homeless people of Denver and there are not nearly enough resources to deal with homelessness. The right way to do things would’ve been to set up the resources and then, if necessary, start talking about making a law.

Support for the Anti-Homeless Law

As a side note, every comment I’ve seen on the internet that’s in favor of the law has been something like this:

  • I own a business and sometimes homeless people sleep by it. (This is especially rich coming from restaurant owners who opened restaurants in areas where many homeless people have been sleeping for years.) This makes me and my customers uncomfortable.
  • I see homeless people on the street. Sometimes they talk to me and ask me for money. This makes me uncomfortable.

Holy crap. You know what I do when a homeless person asks me for money? I generally decline to give him or her any money because I don’t have any. Then I go on my way. If it’s an especially egregious interaction, I might complain to Ben when I get home or write a blog post bitching about it. Because here’s the thing. Unlike the people who support this law because homeless people make them uncomfortable, I don’t believe I’m entitled to live in a world where nothing ever makes me feel uncomfortable. Hell, if I got to make things that make me uncomfortable declared illegal, people who support this ordinance would be illegal.

Let’s Talk About Albus Brooks

Here’s a fun (to me) tangent. To try to get an understanding of where he was coming from when drafting and sponsoring this ordinance, I spent some time on my City Councilman Albus Brooks’s Facebook page. I ended up becoming even more disgusted. The most recent post was this:

Tonight was not about winners or losers, it was about beginning a long process of providing smart services to individuals that need it the most. Time and patient application, not rhetoric, will reveal the true nature of this ordinance. Now it’s time to begin working on securing support for the next step-a 24 hour resource center.

I have so many questions. Shouldn’t the true nature of this ordinance have been revealed before it was passed? Shouldn’t Albus Brooks have begun working on securing support for the next step, a 24-hour resource center, before working to get this law passed? Shouldn’t he maybe have not only secured support but also built/established this center before working to get this law passed?

Here’s an exchange from the comments under the above entry:

Rachel: When I spoke at East High the day after you did, a girl said that you made the bill seem like a “bowl full of cherries” and she was dead on. Sketchy politicking, a lack of knowledge about the population this will affect, and a lack of humility in really listening to those who work with them. Bringing diverse communities together? When you have folks like Charlie Brown backing you on issues such as this, you know you have lost your roots.

Albus: Rachel, that was one girl, how about the whole class. You only get half the story, your view is flawed. To be apart of transformation you need to see the whole picture. Sad that we can’t work together because of pride. Smh

First of all, it’s a part. Second, I have more questions. Why does he think she only has half the story? Why hasn’t he told the other half? Why does he assume her view is flawed because she disagrees with him? How does Albus Brooks expect anyone to see the whole picture when he doesn’t even seem to know what it is? To what pride is he referring? How did he determine that they can’t work together? It sounds to me like he’s making a personal attack on Rachel. Also, I can’t take you seriously if you use “Smh” in a professional capacity. But hey, because Albus Brooks thinks personal attacks are cool, I think Albus Brooks is a dismissive, patronizing, smug elitist who doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Scrolling through earlier entries on his Facebook page (which he lists on Twitter as his website, so I assume it functions as an official site), I discovered that when people left respectful comments that are critical of what was then the proposed law, he gave responses like this (extra assholery bolded):

I am disappointed you did not call our office and seek to understand what was being offered before you jump to conclusions. 1. When this bill is released it will be accompanied with 300-350 bed(please call me so I can give you detail…s 7203378888) 2. New services to the top 200 district court offenders ( which are all homeless) 3. We are currently in talks with the Mayors office to develop a 24 hr shelter through a public private partnership run by a non profit the first 24 hour resource center for homeless in this city. Lastly, I had businesses support me, but a GROUNDSWELL of D8 community support, would be happy to show you :).
_______
I am surprised at you, I thought you would at least call or email me to find out the facts before you jump to conclusions like everyone else. First i want to know what are you doing as an engaged residents is doing to get people off of the streets? It will take a the community but the community has not been engaged in what is actually going on there are only few advocates actually working on solutions and MANY naysayers throwing daggers. This is what I am doing with this bill 1. We opened up a church in our district house women who are homeless nightly 2. Waivers to increase shelter space in two specific shelters. 3. Working in conjunction with the Mayors office to develop a 24 hour resource center for homeless individuals.

The way he responds to concerned citizens is completely unacceptable. It’s not their job to call his office to hear his explanation. It’s his job to get his explanation out there. He sounds defensive and, frankly, a little creepy. The smiley face doesn’t help. His plans are vague and there is no evidence that any actual work has been completed. Where are the 300-350 beds (I added that “s” for him)? What are the new services to the top 200 offenders? Being “currently in talks” means nothing has actually happened. Having the support of businesses and a GROUNDSWELL of D8 community support does not negate the fact that some people disagree with this law or do anything to substantively address the issues. Some of the people who oppose this law, like me, live in D8. Also, asking a concerned citizen what he’s doing to get people off the streets is unacceptable and makes Albus Brooks look defensive. It also makes me think that if I ever contact Albus Brooks with a concern, he’ll just ask me what I’ve done to solve the problem, which is not really what I’m looking for from my Councilman. If the community has not been engaged, why hasn’t he been trying to get them engaged?

Finally, I respectfully suggest that he hire a professional editor.

I considered sending my concerns to Albus Brooks directly, but I don’t see the point of giving him the chance to say that he’s disappointed in me for forming an opinion based on the information he’s put out there or to virtually shake his head at me. Albus, you’re welcome to contact me should you like to discuss my concerns further.

All that said, maybe there is good news for the homeless people of Denver. I’m working on finding out his address (as you may have guessed, he did not return to the thread to post it) so I can let everyone know they’re invited to stay at Albus Brooks’s place.

 

Still Here, Still Sick

So hey I wrote a post called “Still Here, Still Sick” two weeks ago and guess what? I’m sick again, sick enough I’m to the point where I skip my workout (oh, the horror) and all I want to do is sit around and complain about how sick I am. This time, there’s less coughing but lots more congestion, runny nose, and sneezing. I don’t mind the sneezing so much, but everything else sucks a whole lot of ass. The bottom of my nose is bright red. Everybody else is sick, too, so that’s fun. Ben slept for 12 hours last night and took 2 naps today (I worked from home today and he stayed home). I slept for maybe, what, 5 or 6 hours last night.

I suck at sleeping anyway, but do you ever get that thing where one side of your nose is so stuffed up you can’t even sniff, and then your nose starts running and you can’t sniff so it just keeps running and running and eventually you’re like a 2-year-old with dried boogers all over your face? Only I can’t get to that point because as soon as my nose is running and I can’t sniff, I wake up. Ben said he can sleep through this (for the record, he can sleep through anything — runny nose, coughing his own head off, me next to him coughing my head off, cats playing with that goddamn thing where the ball is stuck in the track and it’s really loud for some reason at like 5:45 every morning now that it was recovered from the cave under the couch). I can’t. It’s like I’m deeply offended by my nose running, like people who don’t signal before turning while driving and bloggers who center their text, and I have to stop it at all costs. I wish I could just ignore it, but I can’t. I might try stuffing some tissue up there like NBA players do when they get bloody noses in the line of duty and have to keep playing.

Speaking of NBA players, this will never not be funny.

Which reminds me of the case of Farnsworth v. Fan, which can be summarized as follows.

When I’m sick, the only things that make me happy are beer; spicy-ass Thai food (the panang curry (with tofu, hot or Thai hot) from Tommy’s is A++ would eat too much again); and athletes getting into altercations with inanimate objects.

111MEGADETH

WTF Wednesday: I hate changing my work password.

Every once in a while, the password I use to log into my work email and the network connection at the office expires. I always know when this is going to happen because the computer will tell me: “Your password will expire in 10 days. Would you like to change it now?” No, I would not like to change it now. Thanks for asking.

I don’t want to change it now because changing it now would require me to come up with another password, which is nearly impossible thanks to the ridiculous password-changing rules. It’s not just that you have to change your password all the time. You have to change it to something exceptionally, well, passwordy, which  means hard to guess and hard for you to remember, and it can’t be anything you’ve used in the last 27 years of having a password. That means even if you have a child and 900 animals, at some point, you’ll have cycled through versions of all of their names, even weird combinations no hacker would ever be able to guess because you’re not dumb enough to make your password, like, Soren or Peep or some shit.

When it comes to making a new password, I never have any good ideas. So each day, I decline to change my password and each day, I have one fewer day during which to come up with a new password. By the time I get to 3 days, I know I should change my password but I still don’t have any ideas. Then I get sick, miss work for a few days, get locked out of my accounts, and have to ask one of the overworked IT peeps to reset the password for my dumb ass yet again.

Today, I triumphantly returned to the office after my recent infirmity and figured I should change the IT-bestowed password forthwith. Every attempt failed. Here’s the actual error message:

The password supplied does not meet the minimum complexity requirements. Please select another password that meets all of the following criteria: is at least 8 characters; has not been used in the previous 12 passwords; must not have been changed within the last 2 days; does not contain your account or full name; contains at least 3 of the following 4 character groups: English uppercase characters (A through Z); English lowercase characters (a through z); Numerals [sic] (0-9); Non-alphabetic [sic] characters (such as !, $, #, %). Type a new password which [sic] meets these requirements in both text boxes.

My next attempt:

B1TEme!$#%

The response:

The password supplied does not meet the minimum complexity requirements. Please select another password that meets all of the following criteria: is at least 8 characters; has not been used in the previous 12 passwords; must not have been changed within the last 2 days; does not contain your account or full name; contains at least 3 of the following 4 character groups: English uppercase characters (A through Z); English lowercase characters (a through z); Numerals [sic] (0-9); Non-alphabetic [sic] characters (such as !, $, #, %). Type a new password which [sic] meets these requirements in both text boxes.

Then I’m disappointed with myself for having gotten to the point where I attempted to use some form of “bite me” twice within the previous 12 passwords. But then I remembered that the IT peeps changed my password within the last 2 days. So I waited until later in the day and tried again. This time my password took. And I have no idea what it was. Some crazy shit with letters and numbers and probably %%&?

Little-Known Facts

I have to do one of those goddamn things tomorrow where you have to reveal a little-known fact about yourself. In an ideal world, this little-known fact will demonstrate that you are awesome and hilarious but in a totally unassuming, who-me sort of way. This will be occurring with a group of lawyers, so I traditionally try to make the little-known fact law related. I’ve already used the pioneering-use-of-the-not-my-pants-defense thing, the not-my-pants defense being the defense wherein an individual accused of possessing illegal drugs says, “Well, sure, there was a crack rock in the pocket of the pants I was wearing, but they were not in fact my pants.”

The other law-related facts are few and uninteresting:

  • I wrote an independent study paper on defensive tactics to employ against hostile takeover attempts. (Related: I think mergers and acquisitions are totes sexy.)
  • I wrote my law review article about why and how animals should have legal rights and humans should have standing to pursue lawsuits on their behalf. (This was not published because, in the words of the editorial board, it was well written but there were more important topics covered by other articles, such as how the Rehnquist court handled states’ rights issues.)
  • There was that time I asked that guy from the DOJ what animal he’d be during a job interview.

The problem with being put upon to come up with a little-known fact about yourself is that it reveals that you are, in fact, the Most Boring Human in the World. Anything about me that is little-known is not, in fact, worth knowing. If it’s worth knowing about, you already know it. Trying to come up with anything you haven’t heard before is like completing one of those A-Z Facts About Myself memes on Livejournal that nobody but the author ever wants to read.

I’ve been agonizing over this all day. I’ve enlisted help. I don’t know what to do. There’s just no material.

  • I have 100 pets.
  • I watch The Bachelor and I’m totally not embarrassed about it.
  • I listen to Pumped up Kicks and dance around the house at least once a day because it’s my 2-year-old’s favorite song.
  • One time I bought a bottle of Cristal and shared it with complete strangers at a bar.
  • I gave birth in my living room.
  • My husband and I went to Minneapolis for our first date.
  • I’m deathly afraid of Alec Baldwin.
  • I’m deathly afraid of people dressed up as animals.
  • I dream of being vegan one day.
  • I hate Tim Tebow (this is not a little-known fact).
  • I have a friend who grows cheddar weed. I did not know that cheddar weed was a thing.
  • Sometimes when I’m sitting on the couch writing a blog post about how there’s nothing little-known and interesting about me that is appropriate to share in a work-related environment, I tie my hair in a knot and I wonder whether this is a trend that can happen.
  • In general I oppose the death penalty, but I believe people should be executed for using the word “utilize.”
  • Sometimes I get bummed out that there are no more ideas somebody hasn’t come up with before I did. For example, the other day, I thought of breakfast nachos. I wasn’t sure about breakfast nachos, but I suspected that with the proper materials and a plucky go-getter attitude, I could make them happen. I mean, breakfast nachos are kind of crazytalk, right? No. If you google “breakfast nachos,” just like that with the quotes, you will get 22,500 results.
  • I really like Jose Mesa.
  • I’ve never lived in Cleveland and I know who Jose Mesa is.
  • I’m drinking beer right now.
  • One time, I had cheese fries with Snoop Dogg at The Weiner’s Circle in Chicago.*

*I think I’m going to have to make something up.

Oops I’m a Hipster

Are you ever just walking around, minding your own business, when all of a sudden you realize oh shit, I’m a fucking hipster?

Here’s the song that goes with this post. It’s what I was listening to this morning as I arrived at work. I can’t guarantee this is a hipster song, but I know of its existence only because it’s in a video game my significant other used to play on the Wii, which sounds like something a hipster would do.

After arriving at the office, I realized the following. Well here, let me show you.

giant glassesI’m wearing gigantic glasses

inappropriate jeansand inappropriate jeans that indicate a certain level of I-don’t-give-a-shit-ness

vintage-style athletic shoesand vintage-style athletic shoes

Is a bunny wallet hipster?and I don’t know if this counts but I have a bunny wallet that was purchased at Urban Outfitters.

Also I didn’t shower yesterday, so I’m a dirty hipster, which, as I understand it, is the best kind.

It’s not looking good for me. Let’s check with Urban Dictionary:

Hipsters reject the culturally-ignorant attitudes of mainstream consumers, and are often be seen wearing vintage and thrift store inspired fashions, tight-fitting jeans, old-school sneakers, and sometimes thick rimmed glasses. Both hipster men and women sport similar androgynous hair styles that include combinations of messy shag cuts and asymmetric side-swept bangs.

Well, shit. Asymmetric side-swept bangs? Check. Bonus points for going almost a year without any professional hair services? Stick a fork in me I’m a fucking hipster.

Also, and I don’t know that this has anything to do with anything, but I had an avocado and some tortilla chips for breakfast.

tortilla chips for breakfast?I’m ready for this work week to be over. I need a beer (I hope it’s a mitigating factor that said beer will not be a PBR.)

WTF Wednesday: Bangs

Bangs. I always get them and I always hate them.

It’s as certain as death and taxes. As soon as my bangs finally grow out and I am freed from the prison of having annoying hair in my face all the time and the associated problems including but not limited to greasy bangs (and the existential dilemma of whether to wash them more often even though I know that just makes them more determined to be greasy) and sweaty bangs that bug the crap out of me while running (I can’t wear headbands because they, like, move around and also my head is gigantic have you seen it) and bang separation issues, I’ll go right out and get them again.

I made an illustration of my relationship with bangs using my toddler’s LARGE washable crayons. I call it “The Cycle of Bangs” and it is destined to repeat itself over and over and over in my lifetime.

cycle of bangs

I’m currently in Why?!! territory, headed toward Aaaaah!! Fun times.

Maybe one day I’ll learn.

WTF Wednesday: I take pictures of myself in the bathroom.

When you realize

My mini bar is cash only.

I’ve finally figured out that if you want to make it as a blogger, you have to post alliterative, gimmicky stuff on Wednesdays. I can understand this. It’s hard to come up with shit to write on Wednesdays. You might be coming off a hard day at work, where, among other things, you’re trying to organize a meeting for a group of people with a median age of 97 who have trouble operating technology you and I take for granted. (“The document I submitted wasn’t attached.” It was. “I submitted information to a different person for a different project 27 years ago. Can you find it for me? I’m going to be on Hoarders this week so you can understand the difficulty I will have trying to locate it myself.” I’ll see what I can do. “I’m a mysterious and unknown person you didn’t even invite to this meeting but here I am! I can’t open half of your documents. I’m running Windows Holes in Caves OS.” Of course. Let me save down to .rock format. I hope you have the Times Old Roman font installed on your computer.) You ran your nonexistent ass off at the gym and came home to dinner on the table (yes!) and a grumpy-ass toddler (boo!). You’re tired and uninspired and have no idea what to write about on Wednesday.

I mean, just take a look at the Wednesday blog offerings out there. We have “What I Ate Wednesday” (some food) and “Wordless Wednesday” (_______). I don’t have much to offer in these areas (and I already do “Photo Fridays” with some regularity, which is more than enough contribution to contentless blog posts from one person), so I figured I should come up with my own Whatever Wednesdays. How about WTF Wednesday? I can use it to make fun of myself for stupid shit I do. That should provide enough material for several Wednesdays, should I be so dedicated to pursuing something that probably shouldn’t have seen the light of day instead of never thinking of it again after today.

Speaking of things that shouldn’t have seen the light of day, let’s talk about my bathroom photos. Yes. My inaugural WTF Wednesday is the groundbreaking post wherein I admit the embarrassing fact that I take pictures of myself in the bathroom. And if we’re being honest here, which we are because we are nothing if not brave in confronting our demons on the internet, we’ll admit that I’m not the only one.

Why do people, bloggers (and those weird Facebook women who often show underboob while seductively standing in front of a toilet and have a penchant for friending former NBA players) in particular if my theory is correct, take pictures of themselves in bathrooms? It could be because we’re vain assholes like everybody else on the internet. Or we’re always the ones with the camera and sometimes we worry that one day we’ll pass on and the only photographic evidence of our existence left to our children will be our hideous driver’s license photos. Maybe we’re a little self-conscious about having other people take our pictures because nobody is going to want to take the 27 shots required to ensure that there’s at least one that doesn’t feature an unappealing chin/nose/face-in-general angle. Maybe it’s an innate thing, not unlike the toddler “mine,” that comes to the surface as soon as we’re alone in a bathroom with a camera, which happens quite often when you always have a camera with you.

The good news, if there is good news, is that I now strictly adhere to an unofficial bathroom photo code of conduct (as you’ll see below, I didn’t always). Rule #1 is “no visible toilets, especially, for the love of all that is good and right in the world, no visible toilets with the lid or seat up holy crap.” The other good news in this situation . . . does not exist.

This wouldn’t be WTF Wednesday without presenting the incriminating evidence, which consists of photos I’ve taken of myself in bathrooms over a number of years and voluntarily posted publicly on the internet. These should be marked NSFLife.

*trigger warning: bathroom photos*
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I WANT MY ***RANCH***

Some pizza places today don’t know how to take your order. Sometimes, I honestly have had better luck getting my order correct at fast food restaurants at times. It’s sad, it really is.

A good example is that several times I have requested a side of RANCH with my bread sticks, or cheese sticks or cheesy bread as the case may be. “A side of ranch.” Almost EVERY TIME, my order arrived with the default marinara sauce and ***NO RANCH***.  WHY is it that they ASSUME that I do not want the ranch I specifically requested? Don’t you think that’s RIDICULOUS to that I request ranch and yet time after time after time ranch is not what I receive? WHAT is it with people taking your order who don’t LISTEN to what you ordered?

WTF DO SOME ORDER TAKERS NOT LISTEN? WHAT IS THE PROBLEM HERE? These type of order takers need to learn HOW to take an ORDER. If you are taking ORDERS but you do not actually know how to take an ORDER, what does that say about the state of our **world** today? It’s sad, that’s what it is.

Hi, I'm Amish.

In addition to being crazy, I'm Amish.

I feel WHAT IDIOTS are OUT THERE taking our orders and not ***LISTENING**** to WTF WE ARE SAYING?

WHY NOT BRING ME MY RANCH? WHY?!! All I wanted was a side of ranch. Just one side of ranch. And they wouldn’t give it to me. Just a side of ranch!

Other times, I order ADDING or even at a time or two ordered by saying “I would like the bread sticks and I would like to ADD a side of ranch” or a few times I have said “I would like the bread sticks with a side of ranch.”

Here’s a menu description for example:

BREADSTICKS
Breadsticks baked to a golden brown. With marinara sauce for dipping.”

This means that if I order bread sticks, I AUTOMATICALLY am ORDERING the marinara unless I SPECIFICALLY say I don’t want the marinara, which is the sauce it comes with that I am PAYING for, which at most places, they don’t even charge for extra condiments.

WHY is it that they ASSUME you could ONLY POSSIBLY WANT ONE SAUCE, especially when APPETIZERS are normally SHARED, which means that one person may want ranch, the other may want marinara or both people may want more than one sauce. WHY is it that SOME people are too STUPID to take an order at times?

I shouldn’t even have to say “I would like to ADD a side of ranch” to get both sauces, because the MENU has that I am supposed to get the other sauce, which in this case is marinara. I should be able to just say “I would like the bread sticks with ranch.” Quit thinking it’s totally impossible to have more than one dipping sauce and if it’s free to the customer, WTF should you give a care if you give me both? The customer is already paying for the sauce it comes with in the price of the item.

They should NEVER ask if I want both sauces if extra sauces aren’t being charged to the customer if I don’t say I don’t want the sauce it comes with or if I don’t say it’s a substitution, because the extra sauces are free, so the customer isn’t going to be affected by the extra sauce because it’s on the SIDE anyway, so it’s not affecting the food itself.

Now, if the restaurant DOES charge for extra condiments, that’s when a good employee may ask if the customer wants both sauces, but ONLY THEN. Don’t waste customer’s time asking questions if the extra sauces are free to the customer. I mean honestly if the sauces are free to the customer, YOU SHOULD BRING ME ALL OF THE SAUCES ANYWAY. NOM NOM who doesn’t love sauces and condiments?! !!!

It’s kind of like one time when MY CHILD WOULDN’T GO TO SLEEP and that happened AFTER we had pizza and cheesy bread sticks for dinner and I asked for RANCH on the side either instead of or in addition to the DEFAULT MARINARA and I did not receive the RANCH and I ended up writing a WHOLE ENTIRE BLOG POST IN THE STYLE OF ***SPRINGS1*** with a Suicidal Tendencies reference so obscure nobody will get it because I might actually BE going completely INSANE.

Asking about sandwiches or anything that can be inherently affected and altered in a profound, existential manner by the food that isn’t on the side but is incorporated into the aforementioned item should ALWAYS be asked by the server if unsure, such as just because the menu states the sandwich for example comes with lettuce, tomatoes, and pickles, the customer may not realize it or just didn’t read the menu or whatever, so it’s a GOOD IDEA to ask if they want all those things on their sandwich, even if this practice would be completely ridiculous and inefficient and in reality would annoy me so much if anyone ever did it to me I would start an entire new blog where I would write exactly one post about how much that annoys me and then get like 607 comments and then never even think of that blog again.

I know people make mistakes, but 9 times out of 10, they just deliver-your-food-n-run and don’t care about what’s in the box, which in fact they have probably not even seen, which is tragic. Most pizza delivery employees do not compare the final order to the original order as it was originally ordered by the person placing the order. WTF is that?

And I know I could just make my own RANCH DRESSING, but that is not the point.

Disclaimer: I hope this goes without saying, but I don’t actually think restaurant employees are STUPID.