Name this product!

So, I bought one of these the other day. The iPod, not the hand. It was a completely unnecessary purchase, and, frankly, I'm surprised that I didn't have a heart attack at spending so much money. I must have really wanted it, 'cause I was very easily talked into it. And it's hard to talk me into spending money on anything over five dollars.

Anyway, the rule around our house seems to be that if something costs more than $100, it gets a people name. There are a few exceptions, as the television and a few other products are still referred to by their product names. But we've had cars named Ellie, Chuck, Lucy, and Sylvie. My scooter was named B.B. (short for Bella Bleu). The PDA is named Petey. And the Sansa mp3 player is named Santa (pronounced Sanna).

But so far, we haven't thought of a good name for the new iPod, and it's so fucking cool that it deserves a name. Going with the Petey and Santa process (giving names based on product names), we considered Poddy. But its homophonic partner ruled that one out. We also considered Ippy, but that was just dumb.

So, I'm opening it up to you, dear readers, for suggestions. I should be careful about this, as the last time I left something open for a vote it was decided that my next job should be as a circus performer. But I'm taking a leap of faith and putting it in your hands. Don't let me down*.



*Amy, I'm lookin' at you here.

Friday Weigh In, 6/29/07

Break out the champagne, folks, 'cause Gender Blank is 30.4 pounds lighter than she was in January! Wahoooo!

I weighed in at 183.6 this morning. Rock the fuck on. But the best part of it all is the following three things, in no particular order:

1. The last time I went shopping for clothes, I got to look on the non-Fat-Lady side! And I bought two belts, which I wear nearly every day. Not at the same time. But belts!

2. When I see my reflection in glass doors, I can now see the muscle that runs down the front of my shins. What is that, the shin muscle? Wikipedia says it's the tibialis, but you just can't trust that source. I think it's called the shin muscle. Anyway, I can see my shin muscles, which have been hiding out for a few years, tucked away under a nice, thick sheath of fat. Welcome back, girls!

3. I walked up the stairs from the second floor mailroom to my seventh floor office yesterday! In one stretch! By the time I got to the fifth floor I was feelin' it. When I got to the sixth floor, I considered taking the elevator for the last floor. But I didn't want to look stupid or lazy, so I trudged on. When I got to the top, I hung out in the stairwell for a few seconds trying to catch my breath. And I was still trying to catch it as I walked down the hall to my office. And a minute later when I walked to the bathroom. My lungs felt a little like they were about to explode, but what a grand feeling! I haven't taxed my cardiovascular system like that in years! It really did feel like shit, but I felt morally superior afterward, so it was worth it.
What chaps my ass about the whole thing, though, is that some douchebags who are trying to promote health (which is not a bad thing) placed stickers on the front surfaces of the stairs with sayings like "Take the Stairs - Your Heart Will Thank You" and other such shit. Four stairs out of every fucking flight. First, do they think people just don't know that taking the stairs is good for you? We got the memos, and thanks for the heap of guilt. 'Preciate it. But, more importantly, you can only see those stickers if you're already on the stairs! If you really want to lecture people about their health behaviors (which I don't recommend, 'cause it makes you an asshole), wouldn't the elevators have been a better place for those stickers? Kee-rist, people, use some common sense!

Anyway, as they say on Celebrity Fit Club, the scales don't lie. And this morning the scale took one look at me and said, "Congratulations, kid. Y'ain't quite so fat." That scale. She says the sweetest things.

Happy weekend, all!

Who needs men, anyway?

So, it looks like men are slouching toward irrelevance once again. 'Cause, see, researchers in Germany were able to take bone marrow and create something rather sperm-like. Which means, as you could very well guess, that women everywhere will kick their men to the curbs any minute now. Any minute now. Just you wait. Any minute now all those bitches are gonna shit all over the Nice Guys^TM who have done nothing but love them and take care of them. Bitches.

MSNBC contributor Brian Alexander is clearly worried about just such a situation. After acknowledging that all the fear-mongering about women making babies without Teh Penis is silly, he still comes out with this gem:

"I just want to know why you women are in such a rush to get rid of us. Sci-fi and fantasy literature are full of all-female societies like Wonder Woman’s home island. New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd penned a friendly little book in 2005 called “Are Men Necessary?” Are you trying to give us a complex or something?"

He goes on to say that men are nearly irrelevant now, what with all the neglect they experience at the hands of women who are interested in something other than men's every fucking desire. But he sees a place for a few lucky fellers down the road. "Frankly, you only need a small tribe of us guys equipped with porn magazines and plastic cups. You could feed us, groom us and give us a little exercise — pretty much like you do now," he says. Isn't it cute how he envisions himself as one of the Chosen Ones we'd keep around, well-fed and plied with porn? What I want to know, among other things, is why after this inevitable revolution women will STILL be expected to feed and groom men. Can women never escape this lot? Fuck you, sir.

He closes by offering a threat to women's currently oh-so-cushy existence, which, as we know, is supplied solely by these Nice Guys. "So ladies," he says, "laugh it up while you can because once those artificial eggs and the artificial womb hit the market, you’ll be buying your own dinners at Chez Francoise."

And he wonders why some of us are in such a rush to get rid of men.

PortlyDyke tagged me...fer real!

Rules (per PortlyDyke): Each person posts the rules before their list, then they list 8 things about themselves. At the end of the post, that person tags and links to 8 other people; then visits those people’s sites and comments, letting them know that they have been tagged, and to come read the post, so they know what they have to do.

It's doubtful that I'll tag anyone, as I hate to be a nuisance, and I realize that not everyone likes to do shit like this. But here are eight random facts about me.

1. I was outed on the evening news when I was in college. Pretty good way to announce something to the world, I guess. This was in November of 1997. There was really no looking back after that.

2. I am horrible at tending to things. This is why I don't garden. Or decorate for the holidays. And why I have six closed (and four scarred) piercings. And an outdated MySpace page. And several abandoned hobbies. I am terribly resentful of things that require any sort of upkeep (except, strangely, for this blog).

3. My first fall-hard crush on a girl came in seventh grade. She was my chorus teacher. And there was one each on my seventh grade and eighth grade volleyball coaches. And my eighth grade assistant softball coach. And then another chorus teacher. And then an English teacher (who had been the eighth grade volleyball coach). A definite pattern. Oh, and I married that last one. Scandalous!

4. When something funny catches me off guard, I laugh real loud like a monkey. People turn their heads at this. Sadly, monkey laughs have been in short supply in New Hampshire. It's lookin' up for New York, though.

5. I have hairy legs, but I watch America's Next Top Model.

6. On my birthday in 2001, I stopped eating red meat with the intention of becoming a vegetarian. I was going to give up something every year until I was offa meat altogether. I never got beyond that first step. There's still hope, though.

7. I can't stand Ben Stiller. Or Bill Paxton. Or Jerry Van Dyke. Can't. Stand 'em. But I love Will Ferrell in spite of myself.

8. My favorite movies to quote are Stand By Me and The Goonies. They fit almost anywhere.

All right. That's it, folks! Please feel free to tag yourselves or leave your peculiarities in comments.

I heart Shakesville

So, some fuckers have messed with my homies, and I'm prepared to throw down. Shakesville, which occupies the top spot on my blogroll, has been subjected to a DoS attack, and the site has been down for a couple of days. They're working to get it back up as we speak.

The current theories are that said fuckers launched the attack in response to either the post on the Brazilian yogurt company and their fatphobia or the post on how Jerry Seinfeld made light of rape. Of course, they say all sorts of controversial shit over at Shakesville (stuff like how women are people and other crazy shit like that), so it could have been anything that set off the latest Neanderthal attack.

Bark Bark Woof Woof has a roundup of other people writing about the issue. If you care about free speech and kicking silencing fuckwits in the crotch, go give these people some traffic. They're missing their beloved community as much as I am. You can also check out Shakesville's old site, Shakespeare's Sister to get an update and give Shakes and her crew some love.

In the meantime, I noticed some rape joke fights on the tubes on which I need to go weigh in. My work around here is never fucking done.

New blog rating

I made it! I graduated to NC-17! I knew I had it in me.

This latest rating is based on the use of:
fucking (7x)
suck (3x)
crap (2x)
asshole (1x)

I'm still unclear on why "suck" and "crap" are so bad, but I'm proud of the rating, so I'm not going to split hairs.

See ya later, crap suckers!

Friday Weigh In, 6/22/07

Zippity fucking doo-dah, folks! I'm back on the WWagon, and this week's weigh in reflects that. My previous low, adjusted for the new scale, was 184.5. This morning I weighed in at 184.3. And then I raised my arms in triumph. And I prolly did some sort of dance. 'Cause that's what I do. I'm very entertaining.

For those of you who haven't been following the progress, I 'fessed up last week to having fallen off the Weight Watchers wagon (WWagon) and both enjoying and hating it. It was approximately three weeks of food chaos, and the scale didn't keep the secret. Fucking scale.

Anyway, we got back into the groove last Tuesday or so and have been following the plan pretty rigidly. We nearly doubled our walking route and made healthy choices for dinner, and it felt good. I would have been happy even without the dramatic loss this week (which I suspect is partly due to dehydration), but it's nice to get the numerical pat on the back.

So, that makes 2.8 pounds this week and 29.7 overall. I'm shootin' for the 30-pound mark for next week. I don't want to get too far ahead of myself, 'cause last time I did that I managed to gain three pounds over the following three weeks. So, three tenths of a pound it is. Anything more will simply be a bonus.

I hope you'll all be around to celebrate if it happens.

Happy weekend, all!