Folsom Prison Blues

I can’t believe I’m talking about this again, because I KNOW how painful and stupid it is, but you guys. YOU GUYS. THE SNOW. IT WILL NEVER STOP. I know, I’ve seen the tweets about how there’s a winter whining warning! OH HA HA. Clearly these people don’t live in Boston, is all I’m saying, because as of right now, after ten more inches today, the piles of snow are bigger than my house. MY HOUSE. And it’s not stopping! It just! keeps! coming! My sister called this morning and said precisely what I’ve been saying on repeat, WHY? WHY? WHY?

And Jesus, sweet longtime reader Leigh was so totally right when she said it’s contributing to any sort of lingering sadness, because feeling like your house is going to be eaten, because of the walls! of! snow! and not being able to go anywhere and having playdates canceled over and over again is like, WHOA OH MY GOD WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE HERE. As I write this, I have dirty hair and am wearing these hideous blue toile pajama bottoms from Target, because it’s what I wore to bed last night, and it’s all feeling very futile, this getting up and getting dressed business. After all, where are we going to go? Nowhere! NOWHERE, THAT’S WHERE.

Ahem. I’m sorry. If you need me, I’ll be here in my hideous toile pajamas (WHO PUTS TOILE ON PAJAMA PANTS? WHO BUYS THEM?), spending hours coming up with new marinades for the fourteen pounds of London broil I have in the freezer. Oh, and fingerpainting. By myself. Or perhaps coloring with my box of 64 crayons that Adam got for ME ME ME for Christmas, because it appears that I enjoy coloring more than Sam does.

Here! Have some bullets:

– I’m on Day 17 of The Neverending Post-MC Period, and no, my doctor isn’t concerned for a bunch of detailed reasons you don’t need to hear right now (or, um, ever), but if you were wondering if THAT is as special as it sounds, I ASSURE YOU, IT IS. SEVENTEEN DAYS. GOD CREATED THE EARTH IN FEWER DAYS.

– I’ve always wanted to write a post on this, but it’s a little self-important and all kinds of complicated, but MAN, does it ever GRATE MY CHEESE that somehow the definition of feminism has become, for some, particularly in the pool my blogging peers swim in, WE MUST SUPPORT WOMEN, NO MATTER WHAT. I … what? Look, I’m not going to agree with a woman just BECAUSE she’s a woman, and I remain unclear how it turned out that it means that we can’t CRITICIZE something a woman does! I certainly have no issue criticizing something a man does if I disagree with it and/or dislike it. (I’m looking at you, Ryan Murphy and your sexist approach to character development.)

Oh, but wait — we CAN criticize women. We, as women, are free to criticize celebrities. Yes, we have free reign to make fun of celebrities’ boobs, hair, makeup and outfits. How very progressive of us. Oh, wait. And Sarah Palin. We are free to criticize Sarah Palin. But other than that, not so much. We are supposed to SUPPORT each other, didn’t you know? We’re supposed to support women’s right to speak up for what they believe in! Unless what I think or what I believe in contradicts what another, more docile woman believes in, in which case, I need to sit down and be quiet, because I’m just jealous, and what I said wasn’t nice and I’m just creating drama. Because women are supposed to be strong and outspoken, but we are also not supposed to say anything at all unless it’s something nice.

No one, for the record, would dare say that to a man. And yet, people say these things, out loud, without even considering for a second the irony in what they’re communicating.

(And I swear to God and everything that is holy, I am not thinking of a specific instance here, and my friend Kate can even attest that I have been thinking about this post since at LEAST the summertime. AT LEAST.)

(Edited to add that I, too, make fun of celebrities, so weirdly, I don’t object to the practice. I’m a People subscriber, for heaven’s sake! I BUY US WEEKLY. I AM WHAT IS WRONG WITH AMERICA.)

– Given the shitshow that was January, I haven’t even begun to look at my 2010 goals to see how I stacked up, or come up with anything for 2011, but I have exactly one, so far, and I think it’s a decent one: Read for fun. Just fun. Yes, I want to read at least 40 books (a wussy number, but whatever), but I’m also tired of reading things I SHOULD read, and right now, I just want to kick back and read stuff that entertains me, even if it’s embarrassing, which means Franzen’s “Freedom” will have to wait, because I’ll be busy with something lame and pink-jacketed over here.

Have a happy Wednesday!

*Johnny Cash. Because honestly, I feel IMPRISONED. BY SNOW.

35 comments February 1st, 2011